#I can barely recognize my own face. there is too much weight on this too young body. and I will simply have to live with it

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

winter crash is really hitting hard tonight fuck this god damn season (it has always been my favourite season)

[circuitcircus]

in defense of kabumisu……..

addressing things I see people say about why kabru being shipped w mithrun is ‘bad’ or why their canon relationship ‘doesn’t mean anything’ while also clearing up misconceptions of the characters some fans have

listen it keeps popping up and I just gotta do this or my brain will melt (if you don’t see it around then god I wish that were me) there’s an age gap!- erm there’s also an age gap in farcille (ily), the most popular ship in the series...also chilchuck looks like a kid but a lot of fans recognize him as a dilf because of his relative age, so there should be no age gap discourse among adult characters because it feels so conditional tbh

kabru taking care of mithrun is racist!- marcille likes to take care of others as well. is that sexist, or just an aspect of her character?

kabru isn’t treated like a servant, waiting on mithrun hand and foot…I mean he gives mithrun a foot massage but no one told him to do all that lmfao

he's also not the only one to care for mithrun. pattadol is shown to worry for him and milsril was the one to start taking care mithrun in the first place after he…...y’know. speaking of which-

they probably met when kabru was a kid!- neither of them showed signs of recognizing each other the entire time mithrun was introduced nor when they were together. and im pretty sure KABRU of all people would show some kind of recognition if they'd met before. it's kabru!!! the people person!!! mr. "i-noted-down-50+-characters-in-this-dude's-backstory-for-fun-and-actually-enjoy-social-gatherings"

you would think some kind of memory would come back to him especially after hearing mithrun’s backstory if milsril had even told kabru about him as a kid. but nope. it’s just fan speculation unless there's a side comic suggesting otherwise that i haven't seen

mithrun doesn't care about kabru, his shapeshift double looked like shit!- it's obviously because of mithrun's (then) lack of desires that it looked like that, but they really grow on each other

i think it's safe to assume it'd look more like kabru after they spent so much time together (also laios can barely even remember kabru's name..also saw his face multiple times and didn’t recognize him when they talked for the first time)

mithrun is racist!- he’s actually the least likely character to be racist since he lost his desires and that includes a desire for superiority over others. he even calls his past self out on that part of himself. the other elves in that side comic were being just as racist to shorter lived races but just didn’t use ‘outdated slurs’

(unfortunately literally every main character in dunmeshi is at least a lil prejudiced, but I believe it’s worldbuilding and a sign of the times rather than a reason ryoko kui is giving to hate each character)

taking care of others is a pain in the ass!- saying this as a reason kabru and mithrun shouldn't be together is basically saying disabled people shouldn't be allowed to have romantic relationships because they're a "burden"...if someone is actually willing to put in the work, then let them be.

that's not even all of their relationship, mithrun is the fighter of their duo and kabru would've been killed by the shapeshifter or something if he'd fallen down the hole on his own since he sucks at fighting monsters. mithrun helps collect ingredients for cooking every time, too (barometz fruits and griffin egg). he pulls his weight and then some!! i feel like people forget that part of mithrun a lot somehow.

+senshi literally cooks for everyone all time. it's kind of an important aspect of the narrative.

+also, while it is a popular fan thing I see around that kabru handfeeds mithrun, he literally never does lol this is mithrun using his own hands to eat:

also here we have him washing his own body

just saying because people like to treat mithrun like a baby even though the narrative respects him as a capable adult who also has special needs because of an accident. he’s captain for a reason

kabru hates taking care of mithrun!- not exactly, he was initially surprised and put off but got used to it quickly. i’m sure he’s grateful for all the times mithrun saved him from a monster and teleported them out of danger as well

he even starts doing “unnecessary” things for mithrun’s comfort and safety like when mithrun pushes himself too hard fighting, even after his mission to take care of him was complete when the canaries came back

here is even kabru resting while mithrun keeps watch (mithrun let him sleep for 5 hours before waking him up from the nightmare earlier, too):

there's nothing more to their relationship!- they actually have had a very tight and consistent dynamic since they met and they incite the most change within each other by the end. kabru is the one who inspires mithrun to create new desires so he doesn't waste away, and mithrun is the first person we see kabru being genuine with and it leads him to be more honest with others by the end instead of tiptoeing around everyone all the time (that mask was also the reason some ppl initially disliked kabru…)

kabru’s relationship with mithrun is honestly so important for his character and vice versa, but it’s often disregarded because of one over exaggerated aspect of it (an aspect that isn’t even the first way they interact with each other) or because people want to just straight up ignore it for some reason 🥲🥲

kui dedicates many panels to them that don't particularly serve the narrative as a whole in order to demonstrate this and i think that's pretty significant

you're taking this too seriously!- as if i'm the first person in the world to be crazy about a ship or the characters 😭 i love analyzing text and it's upsetting to see them mischaracterized when kui lays out the characters so clearly and deliberately

also they end up touching each other like all the time and have the kind of canon validation most ppl can only dream of lol i feel so insane look at this:

and this is just when they're first getting to know each other cuz there's a fuckload more

kinda hard to explain how i don't actually need them to get married or whatever but i'd die on this hill for them and i enjoy their dynamic immensely

haha you thought you were reading ship discourse but it was actually a character analysis 🤪🤪🤪

also don’t somehow take this to mean I think anyone has to ship them, I just need everyone to understand these accusations kind of don’t make sense especially when they can also apply to other pairs or characters

bonus kabru just looking at mithrun:

[theowritesstuff]

Yours No More

Nikolai Lantsov x gn!healer!reader

Summary: Hiding an almost-relationship with the Prince of Ravka is hard enough, but it gets even harder to navigate feelings when he’s engaged to a Saint

Prompts: “are you really so oblivious?” & “it hurts, just how much I ache for you.”

A/N: What can I say? I love writing healer!reader. Also once again I’m mixing book canon and show canon

Sobachka - puppy

Moi tsarevich - my prince

Moi tsar - my king

SHADOW & BONE S2 SPOILERS

When thinking about your life, the young prince of Ravka seemed to be a prominent feature. There was before Nikolai, the life you lived before the palace, then there was after Nikolai, the life surrounded by other Grisha, serving the royal family.

You were offered up to the Lantsovs as somewhat of a personal healer, ready to tend to them whenever needed. The king and queen didn’t really have a need for a healer most of the time, and the older prince was often far from the palace. They younger prince however, the sobachka, had a tendency to dive headfirst into danger whenever he liked.

While this very well could have made Nikolai a thorn in your side, you’d quickly grown fond of him. It was impossible not to, what with his crystalline blue eyes, the blonde waves that adorned his head, and his charming, carefree spirit.

You’d been given an easy role. You’ve seen how other Grisha are treated amongst the other royals, sometimes even the soldiers from the First Army. Your poor friend Genya was dealt a terrible hand when it came to the roll she played in the palace, so you were grateful for the young prince’s kindness.

He became just as infatuated with you as you did with him just as quickly though. Whenever you ran to him healing a scraped knee, or when his parents sent you with him when he joined the First Army specifically to tend to him, you stole his heart little by little, until he could no longer call it his own. He almost looked forward to getting hurt, because it meant he could call upon you.

If asked he’d deny it, but he begged his parents to let him take you with him whilst he studied for his apprenticeship. They were hesitant to send you away, to lose their best healer, but Nikolai was persuasive.

He asked you to tailor him, just enough that no one would recognize the prince of Ravka on a ship. You reluctantly agreed, slowly waving your hands over his face, changing the features you’d grown to find comfort in. His blonde waves now a bright red, stark against his pale skin. His once sparkling blue eyes were now a muddy green color. The only thing that really remained of your prince was the ever present smirk he had.

“How do I look?” He asked you.

“Different.” You nodded.

“Good. No one will be able to pick me out of a crowd.” He looks over himself in a mirror.

“I could.” You stand behind him. “I think it’d be quite easy to pick you out.”

He smiles, but furrows his brows. “How so?”

“Well, let’s start with your posture. You’re still too regal. Relax your shoulders a bit. You’re no longer carrying the weight of a prince.” You place your hands on his shoulders, using your thumbs to massage the muscles. “Then there’s your charm-”

He quickly turns his head to face you, a bold smirk resting on his face. “You think I’m charming?”

You laugh. “I think you’re confident, sometimes overly so. I think you have this air about you that draws others to you.”

“Are you?” He asks, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Am I what?”

“Drawn to me?” He leans closer to you, his eyes shifting down to your lips.

Before he could press his lips to yours a sharp knock sounded from the door. You pulled away from each other quickly, both trying to hide your flustered states.

“Come in.” Nikolai called.

Tamar opened the door and poked her head in. “Love the new look captain.” She laughed. “Ready to go?”

Sailing the seas with Sturmhond took some getting used to. The few Grisha you knew helped you settle into this new life, while others in the crew wondered why their captain kept a healer so close.

You shared a bunk with a few of the other crew mates, but more often than not, Nikolai pulled you away to the captain’s quarters. He wanted to keep you close to him.

“What if someone breaks into my room and stabs me?” He asked, shrugging.

You shook your head. “Then you’d probably want the Bataar twins here to protect you.”

“Here I’d be. Laying on the floor, blood pooling out of my chest.” He collapses to the floor with a loud thud, a hand over his chest. “Slowly letting the life drain from my body.” He closes his eyes for a moment.

“Don’t be so dramatic sobachka. I know you wouldn’t take death laying down. You’d fight it until your very last moment.” You roll your eyes at him, but can’t help your smile from growing. “Even then, you’d probably drag your corpse to me.”

“I would.”

Occasionally, in the quiet night, he’ll allow you to wipe away the tailored face you’ve created for him, and bring back his softer Lantsov features. You brush a hand through his gold locks, pushing them away from his face.

He lets you admire him in silence. A clever quip waiting on the tip of his tongue, but he never allows it to escape in fear that it will ruin these moments with you.

“Moi tsarevich.” You sigh as your fingertips travel from his hair down the side of his face, tracing over his cheekbones.

“You don’t have to call me that.” He whispers to you. His eyes remain locked on yours as yours travel around his face, memorizing every detail of him.

“Nikolai then.” You give him a soft smile.

You reluctantly pull yourself away from him after a while, ready to tailor him back into his privateer persona. “It’s probably time for Sturmhond to return.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Well,” now you smirk at him. “I think the prince is decidedly more handsome than the pirate.”

“Privateer. It’s an-”

“Important distinction. Yes, I know.” You laugh as you slowly tailor him back into Sturmhond.

Once finished you walk over to the other side of the room, where he’s added a bunk specifically for you. You blow out the few candles that were lit, and climb into your bunk.

“Y/n?” Nikolai calls from the other side of the room.

“Yes?”

“Do you really think I’m handsome?” You can hear his grin.

“Good night Nik.” You roll your eyes affectionately, rolling over to face the wall.

He falls asleep with a smile on his face, your new nickname for him floating around in his head.

You’d fallen into an easy routine with Nikolai aboard the Volkvony. You spent time with the crew during the day, tending to injuries, sometimes even practicing the heartrender specialties with Tolya or Tamar. Then the evenings you’d spend with Nikolai. You keep him company as he makes plans for where the ship is going and why, you show him what the twins have taught you.

“Watch this, I can adjust your heartbeat a little bit!”

He watches as you do the heartrender motions in front of his chest. He can feel his heartbeat quicken just a little bit, but whether it’s from your powers or your close proximity he’s unsure.

“You don’t need to use your powers to make my heart speed up.” He takes your hands in his and holds them to his chest. You feel his heartbeat through the thick blue coat he’s got on, and sure enough it’s beating faster than usual.

He’s smirking down at you, proud of how flustered he’s seemed to make you as you pull your hands away from his chest. You excuse yourself, and quickly leave him there, wondering whether or not he holds the same power over your heart that you do his.

Evenings are spent sharing moments with Nikolai, both of you teetering on the line that divides friendship and more. Quiet moments shared where you both wonder what would happen if you crossed that line. If you just leaned into each other, and took what your hearts most desired.

When Nikolai had taken in Alina Starkov and Mal Oretsev you were nervous. You knew Nikolai had a penchant for adventure, but harboring the sun summoner and a deserted First Army soldier was an entirely new venture.

You knew that he wanted to take them back to Ravka, to regroup with the First and Second Army there to find a way to destroy the Fold and take down Kirigan. He helped them find and kill the sea whip, giving Alina another amplifier to use, while you stayed behind on the ship, away from the danger.

Nikolai grew closer and closer to Alina as time went on, well after she learned who he actually was then punched him out of frustration. It was clear he was trying to create some sort of relationship with her, a type of alliance between the Ravkan royals and the living Saint.

Whilst Alina became closer with the prince, you started to form a bond with Mal. He was a bit hesitant about you at first, having a hand in keeping Nikolai’s identity a secret was a little hard to forgive, but he found you were a nice change from the air that Nikolai brought with him wherever he went.

“You spend practically every minute with him. You must find him insufferable.” Mal scoffs, watching Nikolai attempt to win over Alina.

It breaks your heart a little, watching him with her. It almost feels like you’ve been pushed to the side in his life. What was once a life long friendship has now turned into a mere partnership. He’s replaced you in his heart with a new Grisha, one much more powerful than you.

“No.” You shake your head. “His company means the world to me.” You tell Mal, quiet enough so he’s the only one that hears you. “You know what that’s like though. To spend so much of your life with someone that you form what you think is an unbreakable bond with one another.”

He gives you a sympathetic smile. He feels the same way. He knows Alina loves him, he’s sure of it, but like you, he fears that something could pull her away from him.

Being back in the palace separates you even more from Nikolai. Instead of sharing a room with him, you now occupy a room at the other end of a hallway from him. You both long for one another in the quiet night. His room is far too empty, and his bed far too large for just himself.

You think that maybe he’ll ask you to stay with him, like on the Volkvony. That you���ll share a space with him again and you’ll have that little bit of peace you once shared. But he never comes to your door, and you never go to his.

Nikolai doesn’t fail to notice your relationship with Mal starting to grow. While you once sat by his side during meals, Alina now occupies your seat, and you sit with Mal, laughing with each other about something only the two of you can hear.

He feels something in his chest, a sharp pain to his heart. This is something even you, the best healer he’s ever known, couldn’t fix.

You feel the same pain when he announces his engagement to the sun summoner. Unlike Nikolai, it takes a moment. He announces it at dinner, while the First and Second armies are gathered together, that their marriage will help heal Ravka. You’re frozen, too shocked to move. It’s Mal that pulls you back to reality, his hand on yours.

You feel the pain in your chest, a twisting sensation in your stomach, as you turn away from Mal to look back at Nikolai. He’s looking around at the cheering soldiers, but his eyes catch yours for a moment. He sees the red that begins to outline them, and the tears welling up. He looks like he might go to you, to assure you that you have his heart, and not Alina. But he straightens himself out, then sits back down.

He desperately wants to follow you as you quickly exit the room, no doubt heading back to yours. He wants to chase you down the halls, to wrap you up in his arms and wipe away the tears he’s the cause of, to whisper words of love against your lips. But he can’t. He must marry Alina for the sake of his country.

He keeps an eye on you at the engagement party his mother threw for him. You’re talking with other Grisha. You look breathtaking. The only thing missing from your ensemble is the Lantsov emerald. You don’t spare him one glance at all that night. That is, until chaos ensues.

Shadow monsters destroy everything in sight, and take the lives of so many. You search for Nikolai in the bustling crowd, but a hand grabs your arm, pulling you away. Zoya drags you away from the scene before you, tugging you through numerous hallways.

She leads you to a series of tunnels underground, all while you try to pull away from her.

“You won’t be of any use if you die trying to save the prince.” She grumbles at you. “You’re one of the few healers here, and we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

You hate to admit it, but as usual she’s right. There are dozens injured, some worse than others. You’re about to get to work when someone calls out your name.

You look down to the other end of the hall to see Nikolai. He looks fine, no visible injuries, but he does look distraught. He practically sprints to you, and pulls you into a tight hug.

“I couldn’t find you. You weren’t there, and I thought-”

“I’m fine, I’m fine Nik.” You pull away just enough to be able to look him in the eyes.

His scan over you, searching for injuries, until you lift his chin so he’s looking at your face again.

“I’m okay, I promise.”

He nods and takes a deep breath.

“Besides, shouldn’t I be the one worried about you? I am your healer after all.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Right.”

Alina pulls Nikolai away, asking if he’d seen Mal anywhere. You take that as your cue to leave. You start going from person to person, helping heal them in any way you can.

When it comes time to make a plan for Ravka’s next move, and Nikolai and Alina suggest finding the Neshyenyer, your mind starts to wonder. He’s sending Tolya and Zoya to go to Ketterdam and recruit the Crows to find it.

You think selfishly for a moment. It would be a way to get away from the soon to be king and queen of Ravka. A way to alleviate your heart of the pain you feel when you’re around them.

“I’d like to accompany Tolya and Zoya.” You tell him.

He looks surprised to say the least. “Why?”

“Well, there will be seven people looking for a mystical weapon, danger is bound to arise, they may need a healer.” You attempt to convince yourself and him that this is the reason you’d like to go.

“No. You’ll stay here.” He shakes his head. He can’t fathom so much space between you. “You’re my healer.” He puts emphasis on the word my, you don’t know if he notices it, but you do.

You listen intently for his heartbeat. It’s pace slowly accelerates as he starts to pace around the room.

You step in front of him, blocking his continuous path, and take his hands in yours. He closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling of having you so near. He leans his forehead against yours.

“I think we both know, I am yours no more sobachka.” You murmur.

He shakes his head and opens his eyes. You can see tears slowly start to build up. “If you insist that you must go, take this.” He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out his gold compass. “So you can always find your way back home.” Back to me.

The trip to Shu Han was definitely an eventful one. Tolya kept a watchful eye on you after being told explicitly by Nikolai to protect you at all costs. The Crows were an eclectic bunch, no one quite like the other.

Seeing Nina again was nice. She was still the same witty friend you remembered her to be.

“What? The prince let you off your leash?” She laughs when she first sees you.

“The king.” Zoya corrects her.

“Yes, he’s tending to his country, and his soon to be wife at the moment.” You tell her.

Her face falls slightly as she looks between you and Zoya. “Oh. My apologies, I didn’t-”

“It’s alright Nina. I’m really here to help forget about him.” You lower your voice. “Besides, he was never mine to lose.”

You stayed with Tolya through the heist, getting nearly killed by poisonous gas, and choking down a butterfly to save yourself.

Other than the poison slowly making its way through your body, the gas didn’t harm you physically. It lulled you to sleep, pulling you into a sweet dream.

You were with Nikolai, of course, in the palace. Light shone into his room from the large window, making the gold in his unkempt hair shine. His arms were wrapped tightly around you as you both lay the soft sheets of his bed.

“Hello my love.” His voice is deep, still strained from sleep.

“Moi tsar-”

He nuzzles his face into the crook of you neck, pressing soft kisses against the column of your throat. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.” You can feel him smiling against you.

“Pirate Prince then.” You smirk.

He scoffs, then pulls away from his assault on your neck to look at you. “I wish we could stay like this forever.” He says, moving to cup your face with one of his hands.

You reach a hand up onto his bare chest, just over his heart. You listen, searching for the all too familiar rhythm, but you don’t hear anything. You give him a sad smile and shake your head. “Me too Nik. But I know this isn’t real.”

He pouts. “Promise me you’ll come back. Back to the palace. That you won’t find a new life in Shu Han, or Ketterdam.”

You know he isn’t real, that he isn’t actually asking you to come home to him, that it’s just what you wish he’d do. Even so, you press a kiss to his cheek.

“I promise.”

You wake with a burning sensation in your throat, in the dark temple. Tolya and the Crows are with you, some in a coughing fit, others completely silent.

Tolya comes over to you, and rests a hand on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

You nod. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

His eyes scan your face. “What did you see?”

You know he can hear your heartbeat spike. He glances down at your hand as you subconsciously reach for the compass that hangs around your neck, hidden under you clothes. You know you won’t get away with lying to him, but you do it anyways. “Nothing.”

You’re grateful that he doesn’t push for an answer.

After retrieving the blade, you all head back to Ravka together. The Fold has now expanded, nearly covering the entirety of the Spinning Wheel.

“Stay with Zoya.” Tolya tells you. “You’ll be able to help Alina.”

Your heart yearns to go with the other group, to find Nikolai, but you know saving the sun summoner takes precedence over anything at the moment.

“I’m sure he’ll be okay.” Nina tries to assure you. “He was always headstrong.”

Kaz glances at you as you wring your hands, about to follow Zoya, Nina, and Inej.

“Y/n.” He calls to you. He walks over to you and speaks lowly. “Watch over my wraith, and I’ll keep an eye on your king.”

You give him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

The journey into the Fold was terrifying. You kept yourself as silent as possible as the four of you searched for Alina. She and Mal were near the edge of the fold, fighting what looked to be a volcra. It had a hold of Alina’s hair, pulling her further into the darkness.

Inej slashed the monster with the Neshyenyer, killing it. They both looked grateful to see your little group.

“We need to get further into the Fold to destroy it.” Alina nods her head towards what looks to be nothing but pitch black.

You check over Alina for any injuries as you head further into the darkness. You heal any small cuts or scrapes you find on her, quietly watching her skin mend back together.

“There. In perfect condition to destroy the Fold and save Ravka.”

She snorts out a laugh. “No pressure, right?” She creates a small bundle of light in her hand and stares at it.

You smile at her. You want to dislike her, but you can’t. The living Saint who has stolen Nikolai’s attention from you is actually amiable. She’s kind, very brave, and willing to do anything to end this war.

“You’re going to make the perfect queen when this is all over.” You tell her.

She looks up at you and shakes her head. “I never wanted this. Nikolai thinks this engagement will strengthen Ravka, but I know my heart belongs to another.” She glances to Mal. “Just as his does too.” She turns back to you with a pointed look.

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t love me. I don’t think he could love anyone the way he loves you.”

“He doesn’t-”

“Oh, I assure you. He does.” She scoffs. “When I accepted his proposal I thought that maybe we could learn to love each other, but I see the way he looks at you. I hear the way he talks about you. I may be the sun summoner, but to him you’re the brightest. You’re the shining light in his life.”

You feel warmth spread across your face. Did Nikolai really feel that way about you?

“If we succeed today, the crown may be mine, but I promise you, the heart of the king will be yours.”

You understood just how strong shared love could be when you saw Alina light the fold. Combined with Mal’s power she was able to cast an immense light into the darkness. Flashes of gold and pink spread around you.

Kirigan arrived not long after, ready to fight Alina, but she was able to assail him. You rushed to Mal’s side when he collapsed, trying your hardest to help him. Kirigan had delivered a near fatal blow. In all your years of healing Nikolai, you’ve never had to heal something this large.

Alina falls to her knees next to you, taking his hand in hers. You do everything you can for him, focusing all of your power on keeping him alive.

Streaks of light flew from Alina. Reds, purples, and golds flashed through the sky, breaking apart the Fold. She takes a dagger from Mal’s side, and plunges it into his chest, screaming out as bright blue lights surrounds you. You shield your eyes, but can still see the blue behind your eyelids.

When you open your eyes again, the Fold has dissipated.

“Can you heal him?” Alina asks you, with tears down her cheeks.

“I’ll try.” You nod at her, then turn your attention back to the now unconscious boy.

Kirigan slowly rises up, and walks towards you. Alina stands up, taking a protective step in front of you and Mal.

“Now, you know sacrifice.”

“Beyond anything you’ve ever known.” Alina tilts her head up at him. “And look what it did.”

“Indeed. Look what it did.”

You try to start Mal’s heart again, but can’t seem to get it. Nina kneels down next to you, lifting her hand to his chest.

“I’ll get his heart started again. You focus on the wound.”

You take a deep breath, then pull the knife out of him, quickly moving your hands to sew his skin back together.

You’re so focused on saving Mal, that you don’t realize Alina has knelt down next to you again.

“He’s putting up a good fight, this one. Like something’s holding him on the other side. Give him a reminder then, of what matters over here.” Nina tells her.

After a few moments Mal wakes up, gasping for air. You sigh in relief, leaning back to check over the rest of the group. Inej and Zoya are both unharmed, staring down at Kirigan’s body.

Zoya stays with the body, while the other five of you start the hike back to the Spinning Wheel. Your spirits lift as you get closer and closer, and enter through one of the walls.

There are bodies strewn about on the ground, and groups of people gathered with hushed conversations. Their attention all turns towards your group as you enter though. Most of them are watching Alina, giving her silent thanks for finally destroying the Fold. Kaz’s eyes are locked on Inej, only briefly scanning over her, before he looks to you and gives you a slight nod.

You look past him to see Nikolai sitting with Tolya and Tamar. He’s got blood smeared on the side of his head, and he struggles to rise to his feet. He can’t seem to take his eyes off you, slowly limping in your direction. You rush to him, holding his waist with one hand, and the other pressed against his chest.

“Nik, what happened? I leave you alone for a few days and you nearly get yourself killed.” Your words are teasing, but your tone doesn’t quite match.

“I’m okay.” He smiles at you.

“Let’s go sit down so I can heal you, alright?” You guide him away from the group to a more private area. He sits down on a crate, groaning at the pain in his leg.

You heal his leg, then sit next to him, with your hand hovering over the wound on his head. He’ll have to wash the dried blood off, but you’ve closed the wound.

His eyes wander over your face as you heal him. He feels whole, complete with you here next to him.

“I should go see if anyone else needs any help.” You say quietly, rising to your feet.

He grabs your hand in his, softly pulling you down next to him again. “Allow me to be selfish for a moment, and keep you here all for myself.”

You reach into your top, and pull the compass out from underneath it. You lift the chain up over your head and hold it out for him.

“It seems you need it more than I do.”

“No.” He closes your hands over it. “It kept you safe. And it brought you back to me.” He whispers.

His eyes glance down at your lips, then back into your eyes. It looks like he’s having an internal battle with himself. A battle that only ends when he leans forward and brushes his lips against yours. You lift your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself. He pulls you closer to him, deepening the kiss.

Everything comes rushing back to you in that moment. You softly push him away, breaking the kiss, and turn your head from him.

“What? What’s wrong?” He asks, reaching for your hand again.

You pull your hand away from his reach quickly. “This isn’t right Nikolai.” You stand up and take a step away from him. “We can’t do this, not when you’re engaged to Alina. I can’t-”

He’s quick to get up and move to stand in front of you. “Y/n, I assure you, my heart belongs to you.”

“You can’t say that Nikolai. You can’t just play around with my feelings.” You shake your head and wipe away the tears started to form in your eyes.

“Play with your feelings? Are you really so oblivious?” He scoffs. He takes your hands and holds them to his chest. “Listen to my heart. Hear the way it beats for you, just for you.” He takes a tentative step closer, so close to you that his nose brushes against the tip of yours. “It hurts, just how much I ache for you.”

“But Alina-”

“Was just a political move. I thought that an alliance with the sun summoner would strengthen Ravka.” He takes a deep breath. “But a marriage with her wouldn’t mean anything to me, not when I could’ve had you.”

“Nik…” You trail off, attempting to gather your thoughts.

He lets go of your hands, and moves to hold your face. “Tell me to leave. Tell me you never want to see me again, that you’re going to leave and live in Ketterdam, and I promise you, you won’t ever have to deal with me ever again.”

You can’t fathom doing any of that.

“Or, tell me that you’ll stay here with me, and that we’ll work this out. Tell me that you feel the same way I do. Because I will find a way to rule Ravka with you by my side, I swear to you.”

A smile starts to spread across your face. “You always have been stubborn sobachka.”

Before he can retort you pull him into a kiss, sealing your own promise to him, that your heart does in fact belong to him.

[zepskies]

Wake Me Up - Part 2

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Thank you so much for your lovely responses on Part 1! Last week's angst was very physical. Now let's get into emotional...

Song Inspo: “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers.

Word Count: 6.4K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, PSTD, hurt/comfort, medical trauma and injuries…and a bit of Nurse Benjamin? lol

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 2: “All in Your Eyes”

At first, it was all shapeless color.

It felt like a small eternity before your vision cleared, and you dimly became aware of being in a hospital room. Your steady heartbeat clipped away on the monitor.

You had an IV in your hand and wires suction-cupped to your chest. Your raggedy clothes had been replaced with a blue paper gown, hidden under the blankets keeping you warm.

It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well-trimmed.

His head soon rose, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”

You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.

“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.

His green eyes went blank for a moment. His hand fell from your cheek. 

Then he chuckled in disbelief.

“Eyes are barely open, and already you’re fucking around,” he said.

That confused you even more. You were saved from answering, however, when there came a knock at the door. A blonde young woman peeked in. She brightened with a shocked, but happy smile when she saw you were awake.

“Hey! Oh my God, you’re awake,” she whispered in excitement. She went to your bed on the other side and picked up your hand. It took you a moment to remember her name, but you did recognize her.

“A-Annie? What…what happened?” you asked. You didn’t recognize the roughness in your own voice.

Annie shared a sobered look with the man sitting beside you, and she looked down at you again.

“Oh, hun. What do you remember?” she said.

You tried hard to think…but you couldn’t. It was all blurry and muddled in your mind.

Then, it was incredibly painful. A sharp, piercing pain that permeated through your skull and rattled down your spine, waking up the rest of your body in the worst of ways.

You whimpered, and the monitor began to beep more incessantly as your heart rate began to climb. You uttered a cry of pain while you held your aching head. You felt the gauze wrapped across your temples, forehead, and under your chin, half-covering your face.

The man turned to Annie with an angry frown.

“Get the goddamn doctor!” he snapped. But he reached for your closest hand and held it gently. He met your tearful eyes. Part of him didn’t know quite how to comfort you though. His eyes flit over your pained face, the way you were gripping your head with one hand.

He brushed his thumb over the one he held.

“…It’s okay, I got you,” he said eventually. “Just breathe.”

You couldn’t respond. There was too much pain, too much confusion. The last thing you saw was the worry in his eyes, before your head fell back against your pillow.

Your world faded away once again.

Dr. Helen Jeong, the neurologist Grace hired specifically to attend you, had been with you for a while. When she came out, Ben, Annie, your mother Marie, your sister Louisa, and the rest of the team (except for Butcher) were in the waiting room. All of them wanted to hear how you were doing, as well as the doctor’s prognosis.

Ben stood with his arms crossed, and Marie and Louisa followed suit. Technically, Marie was your next of kin, considering you and Ben weren’t married. She was close to tears again, but Louisa was supporting her.

“She’ll need a few more tests to confirm, but it looks like dissociative amnesia,” said Dr. Jeong. “It could be selective. Meaning, she remembers parts of her life, but not others, specifically tied to the past few days and the past year.”

“And me,” said Ben. He was frowning angrily. “Why doesn’t she remember me?”

She gave him a patient look.

“Her skull is fractured, but she’s also gone through an emotional trauma, as well as a physical one," she said. "The memories she’s lost are likely linked to that trauma, and so, her brain is trying to block out anything related to that painful time. It’s the body’s way of coping.”

Somehow, that explanation didn’t make it any better. Something dark and unfamiliar had been churning in Ben’s gut for days, but now he was forced to reckon with it.

It was guilt, and it was eating at his insides, clawing up to his throat. He covered it up with a hot layer of anger.

“Aside from time to heal from her injuries, it’s important that she be taken care of in a familiar, low-stress environment,” said Dr. Jeong. She aimed that last bit at Ben.

“How long until she’s better?” Louisa asked. “Will her memories come back at all?”

Ben shot her a dark look for even asking that question, but the doctor bobbed her head.

“It may take a while. Weeks, or even months, but have patience with her. As she heals, and with therapy, her memories should come back eventually,” she said. She gave Ben in particular a more reassuring glance.

He wasn’t interested in being reassured. He wanted results.

The doctor moved on so she could schedule an MRI for you, among other tests. Annie went over and laid a tentative hand on Ben’s arm. He glared at her touch and slid his gaze over to her.

“Look, we’re here for her…and for you,” she said. Even though she withdrew her hand, she looked sincere. “Whatever she needs, just let us know.”

Hughie was just behind her with a sympathetic look of agreement. M.M., Kimiko, and Frenchie were quietly supportive, if somber. You’d recognized Annie and Hughie earlier, but the others were strangers to you as well—likely because you’d met the other two at Supe Affairs, before you took on one fateful mission that would lead you to Ben. And him to you.

He let out a breath and gave Annie a minimal nod.

She smiled a little, and she and Hughie went back into your room to say goodbye for now. They promised to come back and visit, along with the others.

Meanwhile, Marie and Louisa were talking quietly. Ben’s ears perked up to it.

“I think she should come stay with you, Mom, until she’s better,” Louisa said.

When Ben heard that, he approached them. His darker frown was back in place.

“She’s coming home with me,” he said, in a tone that boded no argument. He should have remembered that your sister was too much like you sometimes. Fucking stubborn.

“If she doesn’t know you, she’s not going to be comfortable with you,” Louisa pointed out.

Marie gave her daughter a look, one that said she could’ve had a little more tact there.

“The best way for her to get her memories back is for her to stay with me, in a familiar place. In her home,” Ben said, his voice terse and shoulders tense.

“But trying to remember is hurting her,” Louisa said. “She needs to heal from her injuries first. And oh, how about this? No one will even tell us how the hell this happened in the first place!”

Ben’s frown deepened. Your younger sister had been warming up to him a bit more since the Christmas holiday you all spent together last month, but it seemed she was just as protective of you as you were of her.

Fine. Ben understood it, but Louisa was just a college student, not even old enough to order a fucking beer. He wouldn’t have this little girl telling him what was best for you.

However, as he glanced at your mother, he also couldn’t bring himself to answer Louisa’s non-question. At least, not with the whole truth.

“It was retaliation,” he replied, “for a supe we put away a while back.”

Louisa sighed heavily. Her lower lip trembled as tears welled up in her eyes, and she bit her lip and shared a look with her mother.

“Why did they want her though?” Louisa asked Ben, sniffling.

He held the tremor of unease deep inside, and he thought fast.

“He had connections in the CIA. She was the only part of the team here at the base, so he singled her out,” he said. The lie rolled off his tongue without much effort, even though part of it did add to the dark churning in his gut. His gaze fell beyond them.

“All of this is a moot fucking point,” he said. “All she needs is my blood, and she’ll be just fine.”

Louisa wiped under her wet eyes and scoffed.

“You think she’s going to accept a blood transfusion from a supe? Look, I’m sorry, but she’s not the person you know right now—”

“All the more reason to fix this sack of bullshit,” Ben snapped.

He turned on his heel and headed for your room. By now, Annie, Hughie, and the rest of them had cleared out. You were dozing, it seemed, but your eyes opened when Ben thundered in, followed closely by Marie and Louisa.

“Ben,” Louisa warned.

“What’s going on?” you asked weakly.

Ben shook his head and went to your bedside. He took up your hand and didn’t notice (or ignored) the apprehension in your eyes.

“Look, I know you think you don’t know me. You’ve been through…a lot,” he said. He paused when he considered the hell you’d probably endured the past few days. His gut began to roil again, but he pushed forward.

“Last year, you got hurt. Bad enough that you were going to need surgery,” he explained. “But I gave you some of my blood, and you healed right up. I’m gonna do the same for you now.”

You saw that he was serious, that he probably believed he was telling the truth. You just didn’t know this man—this supe that they’d told you was actually Soldier Boy. Instinctively you tried to pull your hand out of his grasp.

“No thanks,” you said, trying to hide your nerves. “I think I’m good healing on my own.”

Ben frowned. He held your hand a fraction tighter.

“Look—”

“No, you look,” you said in frustration, and a frisson of wariness. “I know you think I’m your…girlfriend or life partner or whatever the fuck, but I don’t know you.”

Just as the words left your lips, something sharp and painful flashed in your skull.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

“But you do. You fucking know me!” Ben insisted. His grip on your hand tightened enough to make you flinch, a whimper sounding in your throat.

“Hey!” Louisa snapped at him.

“Ben,” Marie said, more gently, but not without urgency.

He realized what he was doing, and he forced himself to relax his grip. He watched you take your hand back and look at him like he was some kind of animal. He also realized then that you were scared. Scared of him.

Fuck me…

By degrees, he relented. Heaving a sigh, he carded a hand through his hair and gave a short nod.

“All right,” he said, and he met your eyes. “I’m, uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

He held your wary gaze until you nodded in acceptance. He took in your face, bruised, and still stained pink from the blood that had been cleaned away with antiseptic wipes. Your neck, arms, and chest were the same; your other wounds were stitched up and bandaged.

According to the first doctor who evaluated you after you came out of emergency surgery (Ben had already forgotten the broad’s name), you’d also sustained broken ribs and a fractured cheekbone, aside from your other injuries.

“And…what about the rest of it?” Ben had asked. He spoke alone with the doctor, just outside your room. Marie and Louisa were in there with you now in the ICU.

The doctor shook her head, offering a look of professional reassurance.

“No. There’s no evidence of sexual trauma,” she said.

Ben took that information in with a nod. Inside his chest, however, the clenching around his heart eased a great deal.

But even with that relief, just your battered face, and the way you were looking at him now…it was all too much.

Ben ignored the voice deep inside that said this was what he deserved.

He stood up, and he left you with your family.

While Louisa had to go back to her dorm for school tomorrow, Marie stayed with you that night. You zoned in and out while New Girl played on the little TV on the wall.

Marie caressed your hair gently, though she was mindful of the way most of your head was wrapped after surgery to fix your skull. If only they could fix your mind too.

“That man…” you trailed. “Um, Soldier Boy. All that crazy shit he was saying…was it true?”

Marie gave you a look for your use of language, but she nodded gravely, and with sadness.

“Yes, Ben was telling the truth,” she said. “He’s the one who saved you. Believe me, he’s very upset that you’re hurt like this.”

You tried to process that as you frowned in contemplation. He’d certainly been…pushy. And determined, like he could actually heal you.

It didn’t matter though. You weren’t about to let a supe feed you his blood like a damn vampire, or whatever Compound V-tainted shit he tried to give you. You weren’t Bella Swan, and this wasn’t fucking Twilight.

“Ben” was rough, and demanding, and gave off a real assholish exterior. Just before he left, though, you also saw his upset. He had taken in your injuries like he was angry, just at the state of you. Like he was mad that he hadn’t been able to prevent it.

“I guess he went home,” you said. Marie shook her head.

“No, he’s still here.”

Your brows knitted together. “What?”

“He’s in the waiting room downstairs,” she explained. “Grace made sure he had a special pass so he could stay with us in the hospital, just in case…”

“In case of what?” you asked. Marie smiled and continued to brush your hair back.

“In case we need him,” she said. “For protection, he said.”

Her eyes shone with sadness again, like she knew something you didn’t. It made you suspicious, but you were surprised that he was still here, despite what you’d said to him.

…Huh, you thought.

Thanks to the (fucking awesome) power of morphine, you fell asleep shortly after.

A week later, you were still recovering in the hospital. The shitty fact of it was, between the medication for your injuries and the risk of pulling your stitches, you could barely move. Dr. Burke was pleased that you at least had feeling in your extremities. One of her main concerns for you had been mobility issues.

Well, you still had to use a bedpan, and sometimes you missed your mouth when you ate pudding, but at least you could feel your feet.

Marie took the whole work week off from her job in order to stay with you. Louisa visited you every day she could after her classes, but she had a recital coming up, and you didn’t want her to lose focus. You encouraged her to only come if and when she finished getting in all the practice she needed.

And Ben…well, he came often. Mostly when you were sleeping. And every time you woke up, you saw something new from him: a beautiful bouquet of flowers, imported chocolates, a snack from the deli down the street from the hospital, a good breakfast from your favorite café in the city, or even several orders of takeout for you, him, and Marie.

You also noticed how your mother doted on him almost as much as she did on you, offering to grab him cups of coffee, or laying her blanket over him while he napped in the big lounge chair close to your bedside.

The guy just refused to leave. So you didn’t say anything about it. You just watched him whenever you were lucid enough to notice he was there.

As it became easier for you to stay awake, and to observe his quiet, but solid presence, the more your wariness of Ben bled away.

You soon began to realize that you were curious about him. If you really had been with him before, how had you two met? And what had made you get with a supe, let alone the original supe Vought ever introduced to America?

You considered him now while he dozed in that uncomfortable looking chair. His brown locks had once again swept over his brows, almost obscuring his eyes. Part of you itched to lean over and brush it all away from his face. If only you were close enough.

You could admit, if just within the safety of your mind, that he was a damn fine specimen of a man. Between the cut of that bearded jaw, the broadness of his arms and chest, the length of those widespread legs…

“Keep staring at me and you’ll wear a damn hole in my face,” he muttered.

You inhaled sharply, and his eyes cracked open. A small smirk raised his lips in amusement. You smiled as well, more in embarrassment at being caught.

Ben let out a long breath and rolled the cracks out of his neck, confirming your assumption that the chair was even more uncomfortable than it looked. You felt a bit bad for him, that he was putting himself through all that for your sake…for someone who didn’t remember him.

He turned to you in askance. “How’re you holding up?”

You shrugged.

“Okay. Pain meds are finally kicking in, at least for the hour.”

He nodded, dragging a hand over his beard. He knew that you’d eaten lunch with your second dose of the day not too long ago.

“You still hungry?” he asked. “I don’t know how they could give you that shit. What was that, some poor fucking excuse for baby food?”

“Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant,” you agreed, but the doctor had requested something you could easily digest, with all the medication you were on.

Ben shook his head and rocked onto his feet. He’d get you a candy bar or something. He knew Twix was your favorite.

“Um…Ben,” you said, halting his steps. He turned to you with a raise of his brows. You pointed over to the folded quilt at the foot of your bed. Your mom had brought it from home.

“Would you give me that blanket over there?” you asked. “I’m a little cold.”

You’d get it yourself, but it pained you to fold yourself over. Ben was gracious enough to go over and get the blanket for you. He even opened it up and covered your body up to your chest. His face was stoic, more or less, but there was care in his hands. You found yourself staring up at his face. He leaned against the guardrail of your bed and met your eyes.

“Thank you,” you said, in a near whisper. “And, um…my water?”

You pointed to the plastic cup and jug on the rolling tray to his left. He shot you a look, but he did as you asked, pouring some fresh water into the cup and handing it to you. His fingers brushed with yours on the pass, but you tried not to focus on the warmth of his hand. Instead, you took a few sips from the cup and handed it back to him. He set it back on the tray for you.

“What’d I do to get the hot nurse?” you couldn’t help but tease.

Ben’s brows rose again, somewhat incredulous this time. Then, he was unable to restrain a cocky smile.

“Hmm, I’m a let that one go, since you’re laid up,” he said. 

His gaze roamed your face. He noted that your purplish bruises were easing up somewhat, to green and yellow. Your lacerations were beginning to heal. And before, where there had been wariness, he now saw curiosity in your eyes.

“Can I ask you something?” you drew enough courage to ask.

His lips twitching to one corner, he lowered the guardrail and sat down on the edge of your bed. He gave you an expectant look. You sucked in a breath to steel yourself.

“How long have we been a…a thing?” you asked, pointing between the both of you.

Ben quirked a brow. “About a year now.”

You nodded, though your eyes were wide in surprise. You actually began to blush.

Ben smirked. He reached for the phone in his pocket and handed it over to you, after scrolling to find his photo album.

“Does that look like we don’t know each other?” he asked.

You shot him a wry glance, but you took the phone and started looking through the album. Many of the pictures that featured both of you looked like ones you’d taken, just from the angle. One picture was rather innocuous of him sitting on a couch, presumably watching TV, while you rested on his shoulder and smiled at the camera. His arm was wrapped around your waist.

Another was of you glaring at him in surprise, mid-bite on a large chili hot dog. He wore a Cheshire grin while leaning in close to your cheek.

There were several more than you flipped through, but each one made you sting with the unfamiliarity of it all. You couldn’t remember any of this, but it was undeniable what you and Ben were to each other.

Then you happened on a picture of just you, fresh out of the shower with a towel barely wrapped around you. You looked annoyed, but by the evidence of your smile, also amused that he’d surprised you with the picture.

Your blush intensified as you scrolled past that one. Then you encountered more pictures of you and him, each position filled with more bare flesh—and even more compromising than the next. You refused to press play on any of the videos.

“Oookay,” you said with a full flush heating your face and neck, and the tips of your ears. You minimized the album and all but tossed the phone back at him.

Ben’s smirk had deepened the longer he watched you peruse through the pictures. Now he chuckled and pocketed his phone.

“Like what you see, huh, sweetheart?” he couldn’t help but tease.

Frankly, you were adorable, getting all embarrassed, crossing your arms and pulling the blanket up to your neck. You shot him a look of warning.

What, you could eye him like a honey-glazed ham, flirt with him even, but you couldn’t take a little on the return side?

Ben chuckled some more and reached for your hand, to uncross your arms. You allowed it with a thinly veiled wariness. You weren’t afraid of him…anymore. But that didn’t mean there was no reason to keep your guard up around this guy.

Meanwhile, Ben actually struggled to figure out what he wanted to say to you. Something that wouldn’t put you off, or come off too strong. This was just too fucking strange…

He met your gaze with a heavy exhale.

“You’re going to be let out of here soon enough,” he said. “You don’t need to be scared of me. I’m not gonna hurt you. Matter of fact, I saved you.”

I’ve saved you more times than I can fucking count at this point, he thought wryly.

You stared back at him in contemplation. He sensed you were listening, really trying to hear him.

“You do care about me, don’t you?” you asked, almost in wonder.

Ben didn’t answer you right away. Your question took him off guard a bit, but he also found himself meeting your gaze.

“I think that’s pretty fucking obvious,” he said. You frowned at him then.

“Not entirely," you said. "Not if you don’t say it, Romeo.”

Ben stilled. Against his will, he remembered the last real words he’d said to you before this nightmare began.

“I love you,” you’d said. He could hear your pretty smile through the phone. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Mhmm,” Ben replied, smiling himself. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”

He could also hear your disappointment, there in your brief silence.

“Come on, say it,” you implored.

Ben restrained a sigh. He cast a subtle look from the corner of his eye, watching Butcher, M.M., and Kimiko loading the car with their weapons, along with the supe they’d captured. They were all too close for comfort.

“Say what?” Ben asked, feigning ignorance. Your sigh reached him, stinging him.

“You know exactly what,” you replied.

He knew what you wanted, but he still didn’t give it to you.

He didn’t allow himself.

Now, he brushed a thumb over the back of your hand, and he sighed. Sometimes, regret weighed just as bad as guilt, even if you couldn’t admit to either one.

His gaze now slid up to yours.

“Well, I do… I care about you,” Ben said.

You’re fucking mine, his selfish heart added. He just didn’t think you’d react well to that admission.

“What do you say about coming home with me?” he asked. “I think being around all your stuff will help you…get better.”

You debated his proposition, and you realized his idea made sense. If this man was really your boyfriend, and you’d been living with him for a year…then maybe you could trust him.

Just not entirely.

“I want my mom to come too,” you said.

Ben smiled. It was a small, but true smile, and it took you by surprise. But you only felt your face getting warm again when he pressed his lips to the back of your hand. 

“Yeah, she can come help me take care of you, ‘til you’re feeling better,” he said.

You regarded him for a moment, still wondering if you could trust him. The longer you stared into his eyes, the more you found yourself relenting.  

“Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll go with you.”

After you were finally discharged from the hospital, Ben drove you and Marie out of the city to his apartment in Scarsdale. Technically, it was your apartment too.

He promised that it had been fitted with a much better security system, now with motion cameras around the apartment, and sensors on the roof. (You didn’t know that Hughie would have to explain to Ben how all that shit worked on his phone.)

The apartment itself was familiar to you, but it felt fuzzy in your mind. Like you had a dream of being here, living a life that wasn’t yours.

Thanks to the stairs, Ben left your bags at the foot of them, before he carefully maneuvered you into his arms without pressing on any of your stitches. You sucked in a shaky breath and held onto his shoulders, squeezing your eyes tight for a moment as the movement jostled your sense of equilibrium.

“You okay?” he asked. You blinked your eyes open and met his. His brows were furrowed in concern, but it was the intensity of his eyes that stole your breath. Part of you wanted to smile, half out of nerves, but you tempered it.

“Peachy,” you replied.

His lips twitched. He then moved carefully up the stairs.

He set you back down on your feet once he reached the top, at your insistence. Marie came in from behind with her suitcase and your forearm crutch, but Ben still kept a supporting arm around your waist.

“I’ve got it,” you told him, a bit nervous and hasty to escape his hold.

He released you, and reluctantly watched you head further into the apartment on your own two feet (and crutch). You wandered into each room like you were looking for a damn portal into Narnia.

It was hard for Ben to watch you like this. With a sigh, he went back downstairs to grab the rest of your things. He set them down in the living room while you ambled off into the guest room. Marie touched his arm in comfort.

“It’ll be okay, honey,” she said.

She’d developed a soft spot for Ben not too long after meeting him. And though he’d never admitted it, the sentiment was reciprocated.

He didn’t answer her, but after a moment, he nodded. She rubbed his arm with a faint smile and went to check on you.

Marie soon found you in the office you and Ben shared. It didn’t look like he used this room often, while your desk was covered in papers and files. It did, however, smell like his cologne in here.

Or, well, the scent was masculine and woodsy—like sandalwood and spice (and a hint of weed, as evidenced from the ashtray on his desk). You had to assume the scent belonged to him, even though you didn’t think he’d worn cologne at all in the hospital. Or maybe you just inherently recognized it as his.

Huh. Smell is the strongest sense, you mused to yourself.

The thought of you remembering anything at all from what you’d lost had you the slightest bit excited, and nervous. Dr. Jeong said you’d been through a terrible trauma. The evidence of it now littered your body and had nearly broken you. So you were fairly certain that there were things you didn’t want to remember.

The touch of your mother’s hand on your shoulder had you jolting. You breathed in relief when you saw her. Her eyes widened and she held up placating hands.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” she said. “You okay?”

You nodded, though you continued to take in your surroundings with a small frown. She helped you sit in one of the office chairs, as your strength was already waning.

“It seems like everything he said was true. It’s just…it’s a lot,” you said.

“Of course it is,” said Marie. “But if it helps, you seemed very happy here. You were just glowing all night with him at the Christmas party.”

Great, yet another event that was entirely blank in your mind. If you couldn’t remember celebrating your favorite holiday, then what was the point? You huffed.

“I just find it hard to believe that I’d end up with a supe,” you admitted. You worked at Supe Affairs for God’s sake.

Marie only laughed and rubbed your back. 

“Well, you found a good one,” she said. 

A good one, huh? you shook your head in true wonder.

Now that was food for thought.

When you first arrived, Ben had led you to the master bedroom and said it was your room. So why the fuck was he climbing into bed with you?

“Excuse me,” you frowned at him, drawing the blankets closer over your body. You only had on a large shirt over your underwear. It was how you preferred to dress for bed, and it was easier than pulling a pair of shorts over the healing scars on your legs.

Ben had on a gray shirt and some plaid pajama pants. He’d shucked off his old man loafers before making the right side of the bed dip with his weight. He raised a brow at you.

“What?” he asked.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked.

“Going to bed, sweetheart. Been a long fucking week,” he retorted.

“I thought this was my bed,” you said.

“It’s our bed,” he corrected. He grabbed the edge of the blanket to pull some of it towards him, but you pulled it tighter against you.

“Look,” you said flatly. “I agreed to come here and stay with you, but I didn’t agree to this kind of close quarters.”

Ben stared back at you in annoyance and willed his temper not to snap. So fucking what if he shared the bed with you? It was a California king. The odds of your bodies even touching were slim to none.

However, he saw that stubborn look in your eyes. It was all too familiar.

Christ on a cross. He forgot how goddamn difficult you were in the beginning.

And really, you two were at the beginning, all over again. He’d gotten you to trust him, slightly, but he knew the rest would take time.

Is this really fucking worth it? came an insidious thought deep inside. The selfish part that had ruled for most of his life.

Then, he spied the silver Rolex on his nightstand—the one you’d gifted him for Christmas, along with the photo album that you’d put together for him. It included the only pictures he kept of his mother, and new ones you’d made with him. They were pictures you’d collected and captured of your life together so far.

With a deep sigh, Ben wordlessly got out of bed. He grabbed up his pillow and a throw blanket that had slid to the floor, and he made his way to the living room. Marie was taking up the only guest bedroom, so he supposed he was relegated to the couch in his own home. How the fuck did that happen?

He sat down heavily in the middle of the couch and had to take some deep breaths. His head slowly fell into his hands, elbows resting on his knees. With both hands, he tried to rub the exhaustion and frustration from his face.

There were words he couldn’t say. However, within the safety of his mind, he was forced to reckon with it.

This was his fault. He knew it, down to his bones.

It was all really his fucking fault.

He should’ve gotten you a protective security detail from the beginning. He just didn’t think anyone would have the balls to…

Ben breathed past the tightness in his chest that was once again clawing at his throat. 

Well, this fucking blows like a cheap whore, he thought.

And as you might expect, he slept fitfully that night.

The next morning, you winced at the ache in your head that was now customary for you. You had practically drowned in this giant-ass bed, but the reality was, you’d barely slept. You just couldn’t get comfortable enough to stay asleep.

You didn’t know if it was because it was an unfamiliar place, or because you now had a lower dose of pain meds than you’d been given in the hospital, or if it was because there was just something missing here.

You sighed and hauled yourself out of bed to freshen up. Really, you should’ve waited for your mother or Ben to help you out of bed, but you weren’t used to being incapacitated like this. And even when you were down, it had been ingrained in you (through your father’s special brand of “parenting”) to play through the pain.

So you grabbed your crutch from beside the bed, and somehow you managed to make it to the bathroom by yourself.

After dressing in sweatpants, a bra, and a tank top, you padded out into the hall. Your mom was still sleeping, but you found Ben in the living room.

He was sprawled out across the couch. Half the covers had slipped off his body and pooled on the floor. Again, you tried not to admire the length and broadness of his form, and the way that shirt stretched across his chest and arms.

His arm was curled across his closed eyes, but he lowered it when he heard you approaching.

His eyes were a bit red and bleary. It didn’t look like he’d slept very well either. You felt bad for that, as you leaned on the back of the couch to greet him.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” you teased him a little. “You slept like shit out here, didn’t you?”

“What was your first damn clue?” he groused. You had a feeling he was grumpy in the morning, regardless of how well he slept.

“Okay, I’m sorry about that,” you said. Even though you had every right to sleep alone, you still felt bad for making him sleep out here. “How about I make us some coffee?”

He nodded with a grunt. You smiled and teetered only slightly on your way to the kitchen. Ben frowned as he realized it.

“You shouldn’t be walking around like that yet,” he called after you.

He forced himself to get off the couch, rolling to his feet. You shot him a stubborn look.

“I’m fine,” you said.

Ben’s frown deepened with annoyance.

…Right. Okay, you weren’t exactly fine.

You were still exhausted. Still felt like utter crap, as stiffness pulled at your muscles and pain at your stitches and broken ribs. And, oh yes, your head was still broken.

But, this was the most mobile you’d been in a few weeks. You were determined to do at least one normal, productive thing today. Even if it was just making coffee, then you were going to count that as a win.

By the time Ben joined you, the coffee was done percolating and you handed him a mug. He took a sip before he remembered to tell you…no cream.

He looked into the mug in wonder. You’d actually made his coffee with sugar, no cream. Just like he liked it.

Noticing the look on his face, you paused.

“Oh, sorry. I forgot to ask how you take it.”

“No,” he said, sitting across from you at the breakfast bar. “It’s just right.”

You blinked in surprise, but then you shrugged and sipped at your own cup of coffee, which had both cream and sugar. While you were preoccupied with brainstorming where to order in for breakfast, Ben allowed himself to smile a little.

You were in there, somewhere.

He just needed to help you come out.

AN: See? I promise, there's hope. 💚

(But there's also still drama ahead...)

Next Time:

“We’re not gonna have this discussion again. You need to fucking eat,” he said. “I could feed you, though I promise you’re not gonna like it.”

His surly, frowning face was annoying you. His deep voice was annoying you. His tall, ridiculous wall-of-man body in your line of vision was annoying you, clothed in a rumpled shirt and the sweatpants he’d slept in.  

Everything about him annoyed you right now.

But that could also have something to do with the pounding ache in the back of your skull, radiating forward and between your eyes.

“Bro, I’m on like, three kinds of medication,” you replied in weary irritation. “With what appetite do you expect me to eat?”

Bro? His eyebrow twitched.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@mrsjenniferwinchester @lyarr24 @xoxovienna @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28

@nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022

@emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @theonlymaninthesky

@kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun

@lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420

@tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67 @deansbbyx

[hyperfixiation-station]

Lighter

Summary: You and Ghost are on a mission and you take a bullet for him. With evac too far out and next to 0 medical supplies, the only way to keep you alive is to cauterize the wound.

TW: Blood, graphic depictions of injuries, angst

Part 2

Part 3

You had been shot, the bullet lodging itself in your hip, just barely nicking your artery. You were headed back to the extraction point, mission completed, when something rammed into your left hip, sending you stumbling back. The white-hot pain came a second later. 

Ghost dragged you to cover, cursing your stupidity the whole way. He tore your shirt off, using one hand to stem the bleeding while the other fumbled with the med kit.  Now, you were propped up against a wall, pale and shaking as Ghost labored in vain to stop the bleeding, pressing gauze into the wound, then replacing it ten seconds later in a never-ending cycle. 

"I don't think gauze is going to stop the bleeding." You wheeze, breath ragged. Your eyes flick to the growing pile of red-soaked cloth, then to your blood-slicked skin, then to Ghost’s masked face. 

"No... No, it won't. But it buys us time." Ghost murmurs as he applies more pressure. One hand comes up to his shoulder and he clicks the radio. 

"We need a medevac to our location. ASAP." You shake your head, knowing that they won’t get to you before you bleed out. Your eyes flick down to your belt, where a lighter sits, and you get a terrible, horrible, possibly-only-option idea.

"I have...a lighter..." You rasp out before you can change your mind. 

"You want to cauterize it?!" Ghost asks you incredulously. "You’re fuckin’ insane."

"It's better...than bleeding...to death" You gasp, eyes fluttering. 

Ghost hesitates, the thought of causing you such intense pain making him wince. "You're right... but, bloody hell…I can't do it. I can't hurt you."

"Do...you want...me to die?" You wheeze, smiling weakly at him. 

"No... No, I..." Ghost bites his lip and closes his eyes, visibly trying to find the strength to do this. He gently pulls your jacket off, folding and tying it around your mouth, shoving the cloth in between your teeth so you don’t bite your tongue off. 

He hesitantly pulls the lighter from your pocket, flicking it on. He straddles you, holding you in place with his thighs as he brings the flame to your wound.

“You ready?" he asks softly. You nod shakily, and Ghost hesitantly lights the flame. As he brings the lighter closer, the heat sears your skin. You scream against the gag and try to escape the source of pain, body involuntary jerking away from it. Your skin and blood bubbles, quickly sealing the wound shut. 

Your body seizes, your screams muffled by the gag. Ghost lets go of the lighter, certain that the bleeding has stopped, but he doesn’t get off of you. He holds you in place as your body jerks involuntarily, wiping tears from your cheeks. 

"I'm so sorry," he whispers, "I'm sorry...I’m so sorry." Ghost winces and places his hands over the burn, trying to apply pressure and dull the pain as much as he can. He brushes your hair from your face, frowning at how clammy and pale your skin is. He places his fingers against your neck, feeling for your pulse. Your breath comes in ragged, rapid gasps, and your pulse is quick and thready.

He finally gets off, his hands deftly tape gauze over the burn, protecting it from the elements. 

You let out a ragged sob, curling up around your injury, pain radiating through your body. A weight is placed over your body and distantly you recognize that Ghost put his jacket over you. You float away, the only tether to your body being his hand on your shoulder. I don't think seeing my own body is a good thing you think, but it's a passing thought, not concerning you. From above, you watch him tap your cheek, trying to get you to wake up. But you just stare at him with unfocused eyes, trembling. 

“C’mon Y/N.” He says, gently tapping your face. He looks at your unresponsive form worriedly.

"Fuck." He moves your body, positioning it so that your legs are slightly elevated, resting on his lap. 

“Soap,” He calls into the radio, “You’ll have to come to us. She’s gone into shock.” 

"Fuck. Alright, we’re three minutes out, Lt." His voice is distorted and staticky, “we’re going as fast as we can.” 

Ghost nods, though Soap can’t see him. He looks at your pale, ashen face and prays to a god he doesn't believe in that you’ll make it to tomorrow.

The next three minutes pass agonizingly slow. Every time your breath hitches he fears it's your last. His heart hurts at the pain etched on your unconscious face, and he rests his hand on your thigh, hoping to provide some comfort. 

The sound of an approaching helicopter grows louder, and Ghost’s could almost cry in relief. 

Dust and debris blow around as the helicopter hovers, ropes dropping down from above. A medic drops down, followed by Soap, and they help Ghost load you onto a stretcher, securing you and letting you be pulled up before following. 

“Hang in there Little Bird.” Soap says, placing an oxygen mask over your face. The medic tucks a shock blanket around you and takes your blood pressure, unable to do much else with limited supplies. 

“You alright Lt?” He asks Ghost, checking over to make sure he isn’t injured either.

“Fine.” He snaps, pausing to take a deep breath before continuing in a softer tone, “They took the bullet for me.” Soap nods in understanding, looking at your limp form before looking back to Ghost. 

“They’ll be okay.” He pauses as the helicopter hits turbulence, steadying your stretcher with his hand, “They’re one of the toughest people I know.” 

Your eyes flutter open several minutes later, vision hazy, ears ringing, and head spinning. There’s people talking to you, at least, you think there are, but the voices are quiet and distorted. The last thing you see before being pulled back under is Ghost, standing above you. 

Ghost sits in the waiting room, still dressed in his blood-soaked clothes. He sits in the hard plastic chair, not moving an inch for the entire 4 hours the doctors have you in surgery. 

Soap and Price sit with him in silence for the first couple of hours, but are called away before you get out of surgery. Ghost doesn't even acknowledge them as they leave, eyes fixated on the OR doors had been rushed through. 

The second the door to the OR swings open Ghost is up, towering over the surgeon who came out to deliver the news. 

"How are they?" He asks harshly. 

"They, um, lost 1.2 liters of, um, blood, and their, um, left hip bone was, um shattered. A bone fragment, um, broke off and ripped through some important bits, causing some, um, internal bleeding. They are, um, stable now, but they did, um, flatline 3, um, 3 times on the table." The nurse stutters out.

"Are they awake?"

"Um, no sir, um they are, um, in a coma, we're not, um, we don't know when, um, when they are, um, going to wake up, um, of they, um, wake up." The nurse, who couldn't be older than 20 says timidly, "if they can, um, make it through the, um, night then we-we believe they'll pull through." 

"Can I see them?" Ghost asks, voice marginally softer. 

He's led to a bed in the ICU, where you lay pale and lifeless. There's a tube down your throat, tubes in your arms, and wires crisscrossing everywhere. He sits down, tentatively grabbing your limp hand, careful to avoid pulling your IV out. 

His eyes unfocus as he stares at your limp form, your blood-curdling screams echoing in his ears. The guilt he feels at the fact that you got shot protecting him, that he caused you pain, makes him physically sick. He didn't deserve to be saved, and he definitely didn't deserve to be sitting in your room, holding your hand. 

The atmosphere of the ICU did not help with Ghost's silent existential crisis. The constant beeping, the lighting, the moans and groans, the ever-constant presence of the nurse were all succeeding in putting his nerves even more on edge. 

He tenses as the monitor by your bed starts beeping wildly, lights flashing. Medics rush in, shoving Ghost to this side as they check your body.

"-pressure is dropping!" 

"-oxygen to their-"

"-failing. Need to-"

"-already had one!"

A nurse grabs Ghost by the arm, marching him out of the ICU and pushing him into a chair in the hallway.

"You just wait right here, sugar. I'm gonna go get you a glass o' water while they try to save your sweetheart, okay?" She says gently.

His hands shake, barely, as he takes the cup, his eyes trained on the window of the ICU, through which he can see multiple medical professionals surrounding you. 

Please, he begs silently, I need to apologize. Please hold on for me. He knows it is selfish and he feels disgusting for even thinking it, but he doesn't know what he'd do if he never got to tell how sorry he was he hurt you. Please.

Pt.2?

[whumpsoda]

can I request what you think your previous prompt about the thralled whumpee and whumper would be like in day to day life? definitely picking up Lima syndrome vibes. i’d even wager a bet and say that whumper probably dresses whumpee in beautiful expensive clothes, and finds it adorable how spacey and easily entertained they are. the whumper does care deeply for them in a messed up kind of way afterall.

WOHEO Masterlist

Of course!! I’m glad so many people liked that first one!!

cw: vampire whumper, human whumpee, intimate whumper, hypnosis, pet whump

———————————————————————

“Oh my goodness!” A delighted gasp rang out, prior to a shrill squeal. “This one is most definitely my favorite! You just look your absolute cutest!” The vampire exclaimed joyously, captivated by the sight in front of them.

They took a step back, admiring their handiwork with love stricken eyes and a giddy smile. Biting their lip excitedly, they curled their hands together. “My delicious little thing.” They cooed. 

The vampire pinched the human’s pudgy cheeks, mushing his face between fingers like putty. Malak barely even recognized the touch, his head too much of a sticky pool of pleasure. The only sensation his body registered was the far too bright flash of a camera in his face.

Adrastus had left on a shopping spree that evening, returning to the mansion with an unimaginable amount of frilly, extravagant gowns for their pet. For what could’ve been hours, they had been adorning Malak with each outfit, and obsessing over his appearance.

With each new article, Adrastus made it a point to flash as many pictures for their endless collection as possible, determined to capture the moment.

They allowed their camera to settle around their neck, instead using two hands to lift Malak by the armpits. The human’s head lolled as his limp body was hauled from the comfort of the padded arm chair, a slight groan escaping his lips from the harsh movement.

The weight of Malak’s sluggish, large figure was no issue for the strength of a vampire, especially one as powerful as Adrastus, even if they appeared skinny and frail.

“Oh, forgive me, darling. I just need a better look at my precious little pumpkin.” For a moment, they simply studied Malak with doting eyes, before resting the drowsy man against their bony shoulder. One hand lie on his back, as to prevent them from slipping to the floor, while the other sifted through his freshly cut hair.

After a period of tenderly holding the large man, Adrastus gently lay him down on their plush bed. Malak sank into the rich fabric, leaning into the satisfying tickle of a blanket against his skin.

“So docile tonight, aren’t you? So dozy.” Towering over Malak, they contently grinned down at the man. “I have just the gift for you.”

In the blink of an eye they disappeared from the thrall’s vision, only to return a moment later with a small contraption in hand. 

“I just had to get this for you. I knew your empty little head would just adore it.” Adrastus flopped onto their stomach, adjacent to Malak, after placing the object between them. After a short second, dull light cascaded over the dimly lit room, carefully transitioning from color to color.

They watched in charmed fascination as Malak shifted their head to gaze over the ceiling with foggy eyes. He ogled in cloudy allure at the patterns projected above him, a distant smile forming on his lips.

Adrastus sighed pleasantly. The two rested in individual serenity, the sound of silence filling the atmosphere.

In a daze of mindless enchantment, Malak drifted into the delicate graze of fingers on his neck. Distantly, he recognized the sensation of limbs intertwining with his own.

“Look at all those pretty lights, darling. The way they twist and turn over each other, so captivating.” They whispered into his ear, curling into the warmth of their thrall’s body. “Absolutely beautiful, aren’t they? Just utterly engrossing, filling up the space inside your head.” 

Malak felt himself getting caught in the swirling glow above him. “So riveting, so enthralling, that all else just melts away. Master will keep you safe as you lose yourself in the sight.” The rippling visuals blossomed a blissful warmth in his chest, seeping into his frame.

Hot breath beat against the skin of his neck, forcing him to subconsciously crane his neck to open the space.

Even under such a heavy spell, he couldn’t help but expell a strained mewl over the pierce of two aching pricks in the tender flesh of his neck.

Soon though, the wash of overwhelming pleasure was far too strong to mull over it for more than an instant.

As the blood drained from Malak’s system, it was almost as if his mind drained as well. His head throbbed slightly, and soon the pull of unconsciousness krept upon him. Before his head became too light, sharp fangs released from his flesh, replaced by supple kisses to the puncture.

“My apologies, sweetie pie.” Adrastus cupped his face, forcing him to break from his trance and meet eyes with the vampire. “I lost control of myself a bit, there. You’re just too cute to resist the calling of an extra meal.”

[bonbunnydreams]

Protect

Prefacing this by admitting I'm at the whims of hyperfixation when it comes to fandoms and I am apparently incapable of sticking to one. My interest in DMC came back and I have too many feelings about Vergil.

Vergil x GN Reader

summary: Vergil is there to protect you when a demon unsuspectingly threatens your life. content/warnings: SDT Vergil, canon-typical violence, angst with a happy ending (aka the only angst I will write) semi-fluff?

A sudden flash of steel enters your vision. Before you can so much as make a sound, a shadow is beside you. Vergil’s Sin Devil Trigger, Yamato clenched tightly between his claws as the blade clashes with a demon’s scythe-like arms. A sharp hiss rumbles in the demon’s throat as one of its bladed arms bounces harmlessly off of Yamato, though Vergil remains almost still. The only movement coming from his tail, as it wraps around your waist, ushering you behind him. The wings on his back stiffen, before unfurling slightly as the opposing demon rears back for another attack.

As if to shield you should the demon reach for you instead.

Unable to see past his Sin Devil Trigger’s bulk, you can only remain still behind him as both combatants let out a low growl. The demon screeches as it attacks. Vergil remains still, until his arms thrust forward in an instant. You hear the sound of the Yamato piercing flesh, followed by the demon’s cry of agony, gradually fading into blood-soaked gurgles as it’s split open by Yamato.

A thud rings in your ears as yourr would-be attacker falls to the ground, lifeless after a single thrust from Yamato. The tail coiled around your waist tightens its grip slightly, his shoulder still stiff, his grip on Yamato unrelenting even after the threat has passed.

You call out his name to no avail. His head doesn’t even turn to glance behind him. Whether it’s because he didn’t hear you or he’s ignoring you. you aren't entirely sure.

“Vergil!” You call out again, louder this time.

His tail squeezes you again, but still, he refuses to move. Without thinking, you reach forward, your hand touching one of his arms. You barely have an opportunity to feel the shudder that runs beneath his scales before he suddenly turns to face you. Blood is splashed across his face, his jaws parted slightly as his chest heaves. The glowering blue of his eyes slowly fades as he recognizes you, his grip on Yamato relaxing as he finally lowers the blade. Though his tail remains tightly coiled around your waist, unwilling to let go.

You swallow, your fingers curling gently around his arm. “I-It’s gone now, Vergil. I’m here, I’m safe.” Your voice comes out softer than you intend, but it still seems to reach him. Gradually, you feel the iron grip of his tail begin to loosen, one of his wings adjusting to drape itself over you. His eyes still glimmer their familiar molten blue, but less intense than before.

A soft growl rumbles in his throat before his tail finally uncoils itself from your waist. You release his arm as a shroud of darkness engulfs him. After a moment, the shroud fades, leaving Vergil standing before you once more. Now as the man you fell in love with all those moons ago, rather than his inner demon made manifest.

He remains silent, his expression as impassive as ever. And yet, you can see the familiar heaviness in his eyes. The weight of his nightmares on him when they become even too much for him to bear.

You close your eyes, loosening your inner restraint as you embrace him tightly.

He stiffens beneath your hands initially, before gradually returning your embrace. He brings your head to rest against his chest. A long-held breath escapes him as you gently nuzzle against him.

“I’m here now, Vergil.” You murmur softly, a similar heaviness filling your own eyes now as you will tears not to fall right now. “I will... I will always be here with you.” He offers no verbal response, but brings a hand to the top of your head, his fingers gently running through your hair.

“I know, little one.” He murmurs after a long silence, his voice strained as his fingertips scratch lightly against your scalp. You hum softly in response, knowing in your heart this is as vulnerable as he can be with you out in the open like this. It does not matter if any of the surrounding people fled at the glimpse of the first demon, let alone his Sin Devil Trigger. That feeling of being exposed still remains, a feeling that is all too familiar to you too.

“Let me take you home. You should rest after today.” He says, the strain no longer present in his voice. Gradually, he loosens his grip around you, letting you slip from his embrace as you give him a curt nod. You bring one of your hands to his own, gently squeezing it before he begins to guide you through the now barren streets.

[diazheartsbuckley]

I have such a weak spot for this one: Soldier!Eddie/ (frustratingly annoying)war correspondent!Buck

Any updates or snippets you can share? 🥺👉👈

Hi Hippo! 🩵

I’m sorry this fic has been pushed so far back in my mind because life has been a mess lately but let me offer you a little snippet 😚

The idea is here for those of you who don’t know about it. And check out the amazing cover that @ronordmann made 📸

Ask me about my wips 💌

More under cut ✂️

As Eddie’s superior officer, Captain Nash, delivered the news of the impending arrival of the war correspondent, Evan Buckley, Eddie gritted his teeth.

“Why do I have to talk to that guy? We all know what he’s after” Eddie said, the disdain and contempt that he holds for reporters clear in his words. In his eyes, they were nothing but vultures, just picking at and digging into the worst moments of people’s lives for a few minutes of spotlight.

“My friends haven’t been dead for-…” He turned his wrist, wanting to look at the time, only to be distracted by small dried out blood splatters across the clear glass. Eddie swallowed harshly, pushing down unshed tears. This morning, he was leading a team of four soldiers. Five if he included himself. Now all that was left, were him and Mills.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head and lifted his head to look at his Captain, an understanding but stoic smile plastered across his face. “They haven’t been dead for more than eight hours. Their bodies are barely even cold yet, Cap. Why now?”

“I get your reluctance, Diaz, but Buckley’s inquires can’t wait. He’s got friends amongst the higher ups and I’m just relaying the message to you” Captain Nash explained, arms folded across his chest. “And we have to provide him with the information that he’s seeking, no matter the timing of it”

Eddie’s jaw clenched, hands curling into fists at his sides. “With all due respect, Cap, their deaths are still pretty fresh in my mind. I’m not sure that I’m the right person to talk to a reporter right now. Why not take Mills?”

Captain Nash’s mouth curled into a straight line and Eddie instantly knew what that meant. “Right, of course he’s requested to talk to her too. Isn’t there anything we can do?” Eddie could feel the grief weighing heavily on him but his stance never wavered, willing to do almost everything to get out of talking to a fucking reporter.

Having worked with Captain Nash for years, Eddie could recognize that solemn smile from a mile away. “I’m afraid not but I hear you, Eddie. And your concerns are duly noted” Bobby replied, his tone reflecting a deep understanding of Eddie’s pain. They had both lost people before but he could tell that this was taking a toll on the younger man. “But orders are orders. We need to cooperate with Buckley’s investigation, even if it’s the last thing we want to do right now”

With a heavy sigh, Eddie unclenched his fists and nodded in acceptance. He brought his hand to his chest, fingertips carefully tracing the cold metal of his St. Christopher’s medallion. It made him think of his own family and it made him think of the families of his dead friends. PFC Norwahl had done nothing but rave about how excited he was to go home on leave in two weeks and finally meet his newborn daughter, even sharing pictures with the entire team who had shared their joy with him.

The weight of duty bore down upon Eddie, mingling with the grief that clung tightly to his heart, threatening to squeeze the life out of him. In the midst in all the loss and turmoil that the ambush had caused, Eddie knew that he had no choice but to face Evan Buckley, no matter much he wished that he could delay the inevitable.

Using this as my fuck it friday/inspiration saturday ✨

I was tagged by @tizniz @diazsdimples @cal-daisies-and-briars @daffi-990 and @spotsandsocks 🌹

Tagging!! @watchyourbuck @wikiangela @jeeyuns @honestlydarkprincess @loserdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @wildlife4life @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @giddyupbuck @jesuisici33 @vampbuckley @athenagranted @exhuastedpigeon @elvensorceress @whosoldherout @weewootruck @puppyboybuckley @poughkeepsies @rogerzsteven @underwater-ninja-13 @actualalligator @butraura @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @evanbegins @disasterbuckdiaz 🩵🦋

[corvus--rex]

This got a pretty "meh" response on the bird app. Let's see how it does here. This is parts 1 & 2 as of right now

~~~

pt 1

Ever think that the tight clothes, gloves, tiny jacket that does absolutely nothing are because Keith believes he doesn't deserve care, comfort, softness? Lance hadn't, until he really noticed Keith's body language for the first time after the Blade trials. The tightly crossed arms, how he kept himself separated from everyone else even when in the same room, how he always looked ready to bolt at the slightest whisper. He kept everyone at arm's length, reinforcing that distance with sharp-tongued jabs and insults.

It got so much worse after Shiro disappeared. Keith's normally prickly at best exterior had been dipped in venom and no one could stop him from disappearing for hours in Red, scouring space for any sign of his missing brother. Lance couldn't even begin to articulate the relief he felt when it came time to have Black pick a new paladin. He didn't want Keith to be forced into a role he was in no fit state to be in and had already decided that he wanted it to be himself instead. Keith may be an asshole, but Lance cared about that asshole.

Lance reluctantly sat in the pilot's seat, running reverent fingertips over the controls. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, the silence of the cockpit holding the weight of a tomb until he finally let out a shaky breath.

"Hey, Black. I-I know you probably don't want me, but it's only me and Keith left, and I know what Shiro said about him leading the team if anything happened, but…I don't think he can do it, and I know I'm not the best option, but I'd rather it be me than him. He needs time to come back from this. He needs to be taken care of for once, and if this is only way I can do that, if it means I have to lead the team, I'll do it. I know I'm not as smart as Pidge or Hunk, but I'm stubborn as fuck and I'll get there. Just, please, let me take this on so he doesn't have to."

If the silence had been heavy before, now it was oppressive. Slowly, the weight became pressure, a focused pressure in the back of his mind, silence growing into a whisper. A soft purr rolled through the cockpit as the controls flared to life, filling the space with an ultraviolet glow.

Lance released the breath he'd been holding all at once. "Thanks. I'll give it my best."

He tried to get up, but Black's mental presence pushed him back down, the projected image feeling more real than illusory. He recognized the mechanical angelic wings from when Shiro had last flown the lion, but then the image shifted, a fully formed Voltron taking up his field of vision with similar but much larger wings. The feeling he got from Black was one of reassurance and a hint of things to come. With another soft rumble, the mental pressure dissipated, and Lance stood, Blacks head lowering as he walked down the ramp to the collective shouts and cheers from the team.

Lance couldn't help but notice one voice missing. Keith stood leaning against the wall but instead of the closed-off posture he almost always adopted, his arms hung limply at his sides, the shock on his face overshadowed by the tears of pure relief threatening to spill over. Lance shot him a small smile, one that said 'it's ok, I got you'. Keith understood, shooting one back in thanks as he wiped the tears away and slipped out without anyone else noticing. Lance watched him go, a realization just as startling as Black accepting him as his paladin hitting with the force of that very lion.

'Oh,'

Lance thought,

'Oh shit.'

He could barely hear the rest of the team over his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

'I think I'm falling in love with him.'

-~-

pt 2

Lance tried to make the adjustment period as smooth as possible, but they were all dealing with Shiro's loss, all grieving in their own way, although none quite like Keith. He tried to accommodate him as much as possible - Lance knew too well the pain of losing family - but he still needed to run the team through drills, both on the training deck and in space, forming Voltron again and again until he was confident they could do it in the heat of battle, especially with Allura flying Blue.

Outside of training, Lance was having a harder time keeping his newly realized feelings in check. Keith was more closed off than he'd been in a while, so Lance kept an eye on him as best he could, inviting Keith to game and movie nights in the lounge, including him in more conversations during mealtimes, but never pushing, and always respecting the answers he got.

Keith had actually started to relax a bit, accepting invitations when he was up to it sitting alongside the team but not always participating in whatever they were doing that night, letting himself get drawn into conversations even if he wasn't actively adding anything, just listening. Lance was starting to think they were making progress, both as a team and with their healing process, until Thayserix.

They'd lost Lotor in the gas giant, and Lance had to watch as Red took off beyond the shortened range of Black's sensors. He knew Keith couldn't possibly hope to track Lotor through the gas, and landed on a nearby mineral structure to wait.

He couldn't contact the team, and there was nothing to see within visual range, so he was left with only his own thoughts. Lance thought about how he was handling leading the team - he was honestly a little surprised they'd accepted him as Black Paladin, but when Lance brought it up just after training one day Allura had said that Black chose him for a reason, just as all the lions had chosen their Paladins. Both Hunk and Pidge told him that they had been friends for a while, far longer than they'd been in space, he'd been their pilot back when they were a flight crew at the Garrison, and while he may have been a little unhinged, they trusted him then and they still did. Coran echoed all of their sentiments, adding that he understood how hard it was to push forward while so far from home and that he was genuinely proud of Lance for continuing on in spite of everything. Lance nearly broke down in front of the whole team, instead accepting one of Coran's patented Dad Hugs™.

What Keith had said surprised him. He'd gotten pulled into what became the group hug with Coran on Lance's other side, and when they broke apart, he'd said quietly, for Lance only, "Shiro trusted you. He'd be happy it was you to fly Black. I trust you too. Black picked you and I'm happy he did. You're a better leader than I could be."

The soft, /shy/ look on Keith's face made Lance's brain short-circuit. He scrambled to come up with something, anything, even remotely coherent as he watched Keith walk out with the rest of the team.

The only thought that came to mind was 'How dare he be that cute?' Lance froze. 'Oh I am so fucked.'

[ezraischell]

Tags: angst, mentions of yingxing, reader is a short lived human, what lemon? i only have onion, dan feng is still pining for yingxing, ooc dan feng.

“a moth to a flame.” —dan feng x fem!reader

Dan Feng's heart shattered into pieces as soon as death took Yingxing into its embrace. The wind howls through his empty soul; you know he has not moved on.

What hurts most is that he will never love you the way he loved his now deceased lover.

You make him feel some semblance of happiness again, yet the pain within him is still raw. Perhaps it's because just like Yingxing, you are also a short lived species.

"I love you, but..." he declares, his words followed by haunting silence. The tension has increased as you await his next answer.

"But you're not him."

You remained silent upon hearing his voice, his words acting as though they are that of a thousand swords, mercilessly impaling your heart through and through, and yet, you never uttered a single word and never have you broken out of your stoic character just to breakdown in front of him. No, you wouldn't do that, you couldn't.

"I understand." Was all that she could say. Despite that, she knew deep down that it definitely hurt more than what she had perceived for herself.

He knew that he had inflicted pain upon you with his words, but he couldn't bear to lie. Despite his love for you, his heart still ached for Yingxing. The void in his soul persisted, a constant reminder of his lost companion.

He reached out to gently stroke the side of your face, his touch tender and reassuring, despite the weight of his words.

"You deserve better than this," he murmured, his voice filled with a hint of regret. "You deserve someone who can love you fully, without any reservations."

"..."

You wanted to recoil from his touch but you didn't, you remained still under the influence of the remaining respect and attachment that you still bore for him.

His hand, no matter how much it seemed like that of a cold touch burning painfully against your skin, remained.

And yet again, he was right. You deserved better than a bare minimum treatment from him, you were simply too blind and incapable of recognizing it for yourself.

As Dan Feng observed your stoic demeanor in response to his touch, he couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration with himself. He wished for you to react, to express your feelings, to show that he meant something to you.

But instead, you remained quiet and still. It was as if you had built a wall around your heart, refusing to show any vulnerability.

"You know I can still love you in my own way, right?" he whispered quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of longing and softness.

No matter how much he tried, you wouldn't budge or give in. Why would you? You were built and molded by the cruel world into a being incapable of ever finding the key within yourself to free your emotions.

No matter how much he loved you, you will never be able to find it in yourself to reason with him nor his words. You were simply crafted that way by the world.

"I sometimes wonder why you have walked into my life of solitude, only to ruin its peace the longer you stay."

While you understood that he could not move on from his dead lover, It always left you wondering silently to yourself why he chose to give you hope, only to take it away and break it when he realized that he cannot love you the way you expected him to.

Frustrated by your lack of response and hurt by your cold demeanor, Dan Feng couldn't help but express his confusion. He was at a loss as to how to connect with you, how to reach you.

"If you're so upset with my presence, then why do you tolerate it?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of anger and despair. "Why do you allow me to be near you if it brings you nothing but pain? You have the power to push me away, yet you choose not to."

"Just like how a moth is drawn to flame, no matter how harmful it may be to them, I feel something similar akin to that.."

Despite your cold exterior, had always been drawn and attracted to his affection like a moth to a flame, always seeking the light in the dark and the warmth in the freezing world.

No matter how painful it may be, you knew what you wanted. If you truly love him, you wouldn't leave no matter how harmful he is to you.

Just like how harmful a flame is to a moth. However, you didn't need his pity, you never will. You do this out of your own will, even if he still cannot move on from his dead lover and sees you as a mere replacement.

He sighed heavily, his anger slowly fading away to give way to a deep sense of sadness. He took a moment to compose himself before replying.

"I wish I could love you the way you deserve," he said softly, his voice tinged with resignation. "But I'm afraid that a part of my heart will always belong to Yingxing. It's not fair to you, and I know that. But..."

He trailed off, his eyes downcast. He knew there was no justification for hurting you like this, and he hated himself for it.

"I am aware.. that's why, i would like to leave you and end our relationship. I wish to sever my ties with you, Yinyue-jun."

Perhaps it was out of the impulse influencing your feelings and causing you internal turmoil. But you knew better than to be selfless and disregard yourself, that would be very disrespectful to your own being.

You can't live without him, or so you thought, but then again, can you live with him while knowing he is hurting you? No, you could not. You knew better than that.

His expression grew grim as he heard your words. He knew this moment was coming, yet he still felt a pang of disappointment in his chest.

"If that is your decision, then I cannot stop you," he said quietly, his voice tinged with resignation. "But I want you to know that I truly cared for you, and I never wanted to hurt you."

He reached out a hand towards you, his eyes clouded with sadness. "Will you give me one last embrace before you go?"

"Unfortunately, i cannot."

With that being said, you walked away. You walked away, severing your ties with him and freeing yourself from the shackles of his love that you assumed for yourself.

"Farewell, Yinyue-jun."

[jackdelroys]

hihi!!! i’d like to request either surprise or seductive for jack delroy or murdoc please, take your pic!! (honestly ive been in a slump with my own dd fics and your prompts have been a joy to read, ty for the lovely content!! 💕)

hi!! ty for the request 🖤 im very glad to hear people are enjoying! i decided to go with murdoc for this one, because as of late hes taken over my brain entirely : (

[ surprise ] a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard

YOU always kept the bedroom door locked at night.

nestled deep in the covers of your bed, you were already drifting off by the time the darkened figure slipped through the open window -- that was a precaution you'd forgotten to take this particularly warm evening.

you didn't hear the soft thud of boots on the carpet, nor the distress of leather as he flexed his knuckles once, twice, hand gripped tight around the handle of a sharpened blade. he brushed back his hair, it was a long journey to get here. but he'd made it.

it wasn't until he reached the far end of your bed, eyes trailed on your sleeping figure did he even remember to breathe. once in, deep, then out, exhaling the sting of exhaustion with it.

he's on you before you can even wake.

you panic at first, until you recognize the familiar scent of lavender detergent and, much more prominently, gunpowder. you barely whisper his name before he silences you with a feverish kiss, forcing his knee between your legs and pressing his weight against you. he swallows the dazed groan you let out and trails his tongue over your lip, nipping at it. he drinks in the way you shudder underneath his body with a wicked, self-satisfied grin and dark eyes grow wide in intrigue as you squirm under him. he pulls away and allows his coat to drop to the floor, followed quickly by the thick sweater he's wearing underneath, and the gloves that get in his way of removing it.

"anyone could have come through that window," he breathes, mouth still working its way down your neck, hands brushing the ragged shirt you'd worn to bed up, just enough for his fingers to trace your sides, it was a figure he'd committed to memory already, but old habits surely die hard. it was one of his favorite pastimes.

"you're lucky it was me."

"lucky?" you choke out, "you fucking scared me. and then you --" you're cut off again by his lips on yours, one hand tugging gently at your hair, tilting your neck just up enough for him to return to it.

"-- and then you do this."

he pulls away suddenly.

"i can stop, if you'd like, doll."

"god, no, don't."

that shit-eating smile is back on his face, and then it's gone, buried in your skin again. your fingers reach up to weave into his hair, pulling harshly as you feel his teeth sink into the flesh just above your collarbone.

"shit --"

"so sorry, doll. can't help it."

you hiss his name, drawing his attention once more. his head falls slightly to the left as he hovers over you.

"i love you, but i was sleeping, murdoc. i'm tired."

with an inconvenienced roll of his eyes, he's also rolled off of you, and instead into the empty space of his pillow next to yours. his arms stay wrapped around you though, and his larger figure curls in on yours, pressing you close to his chest. you wonder if he's ever really comfortable like that, or if he's just so used to sleeping that way that he can't otherwise while he's home. he's still trailing his hands across your torso, just as he always does, almost as though he was curious, eager to study each and very part of you. and perhaps he was. this idea of permanence was all very new to him too, after all.

you fascinated him. it's why he kept coming back, over and over. it's why he breathes against you and kisses your head once more, and it's why he waits for you to fall asleep again before closing his eyes himself. he looks beyond you, to the now-locked window. he can feel your pulse in your chest as you resign to slumber once more. he almost laughs, knowing how quickly you'd fallen asleep in his arms, knowing full well the capabilities he has and the things he's done. things he was willing to do.

what a curious creature you were to someone like him. perhaps he'll keep you.

[weaveandwood]

Weave and Woods Chapter 12: Light and Darkness

Gale/Named Tav | Slow Burn | Angst | Read on AO3 | Entire Work

Summary:

After a wondrous night under the stars, Auroria and Gale have to head back into the gloomy grey reality of the Shadow Curse and the Absolute

“It’s not your fault.” He repeated again, softly punctuating each word, the pads of his thumbs brushing away the wetness on her cheeks. He knew she was thinking about her friend, still feeling like it was her actions that caused her death. That, coupled with this new guilt would lead her into a spiral. He could see it on the fringes of her eyes - recognizing his own experience when he isolated himself from the world after the orb took root in his body and again after receiving Mystra’s demand that he take out the Absolute via detonation. She had been unrelenting in dragging him away from that place in his mind. She still was. It was his turn to protect her, to fight for her

AN: This chapter is emotional whiplash and I'm sorry. CN: death

Auroria stirred as she woke up early, the sun’s gentle beams hitting her face and the distant sound of morning birdsong rousing her from her peaceful slumber. She stretched, feeling like a housecat as she laid in the warm light, comfortable in the soft bed watching dust motes float by. The weight of Gale’s arm draped over her bare waist and the gentle sound of his breathing in her ear only made her want to delay the inevitable return to gloomy, grey reality indefinitely. No, let her stay here in this idyllic setup for just a while longer.

She felt his thumb start to move in languid circles on her hip and she smiled to herself. He would live, he would choose to defy his goddess. For her, for their love. She turned over, and was greeted with a lazy smile and half-lidded eyes. 

“Good morning, my love,” he said, his voice gravelly from sleep. Oh, she could listen to that voice forever. 

“Good morning,” she said with a smile, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen loose during the night behind his ear before settling in next to him, her head on his chest, his arm wrapped around her. My love - she had never been called that before. “You brought me the sun.” 

“I know you’ve been missing the sunrise each morning, so I wanted to surprise you.” He kissed the top of her head.  “You inspire me. You deserve the sun, Ora. You deserve so much more than just illusions - you deserve everything. I hope when all of this is over, you will still find me worthy so I can attempt to give it all to you.”

“You are already worthy of me, you know that, Gale. I thought I made that clear.”

“Speaking of…” he hesitated.  “I wanted to speak with you about last night.”

She furrowed her brow and sat up, her hand tenderly placed on the orb marking as she looked in his eyes, thoughts racing through her head. Was it acting up again? Did he think last night was a mistake? Was he having second thoughts about them? About defying Mystra’s command?

“What about it?” she asked. 

He paused, as if gathering his thoughts.

“Have you ever stood at the edge of a great precipice and shuddered at how easy it would be to just…take one step forward and fall into the void?” He asked, staring up at the sky.

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Ever since Elminster delivered Mystra’s demand of me, it has felt like I have been balancing on that edge every minute of every day, a great drop to nothingness never out of my sight or my mind.”

He looked at her and took her hand, pressing a gentle kiss along her knuckles. 

“You led me away from that edge, Ora. Your words and your touch have reminded me what living can feel like. I no longer want to seek solace or purpose in that void - only in your love for me and my love for you.” 

Auroria’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears that she blinked away. It may have been an illusion, but the sunrise was too beautiful for tears. 

“You flatter me,” she smiled. “But I believe you did a lot of the work last night between the illusions and…other things,” she teased. 

He sat up and pulled her close to him. “They do say generosity is a noble virtue, whether in the streets, the charity box, or betwixt the sheets,” he said with a devilish grin before sweeping her underneath him, laying her back on the bed as she laughed in surprise. He settled between her legs and leaned down to speak softly into her ear.

“Besides, given my propensity for verbosity, it can’t be surprising I have a practiced tongue,” he teased before kissing her neck gently.

She laughed, tilting her head to the side to give him access to the one spot just below her ear that drove her wild. “How much time do you think we have until everyone else is awake and we have to start the day?”

He kissed her. “Enough time for me to get a little more practice in.” He smiled and pulled the sheet over them before moving down her body, placing gentle kisses along each of her scars until he reached his destination, the sound of her laughter and pleasure merging with that of the distant birdsong.

******

As the party edged closer and closer to Moonrise Towers, the horrors grew worse and worse. Perhaps because he was so preoccupied with his own imminent demise, Gale had never fully noticed the carnage outside of the Last Light Inn before that afternoon. Now that his mind was clear he could finally see, though he wished he couldn’t when they came around a bend in the path they had taken. Ora froze and fell to her knees ahead of him, a large group of slain tieflings in front of her. They hadn’t been as lucky as the ones who were in the prison.

“No, no, no,” she moaned, a far different sound from the ones that morning - this was one he never wanted to hear again. She looked around, searching everyone’s faces before finally locking eyes with Gale. “We didn’t…we didn’t see them when we went to the prison, we took a different path to Moonrise. We told them to come this way after the party, I said it would be safe,” she said, scanning the corpses of so many of the tieflings they had seen not long ago at the grove, everyone in a jubilant and hopeful mood after the goblin camp was neutralized. “I said it was safe. This is my fault.” Her face crumpled and she buried her face in her hands and cried. Gale recognized some of the tieflings he had spoken to at the party and earlier when they were exploring the grove itself. They knew there had been an ambush, but he wasn’t prepared to be confronted with just how many died. He felt his own eyes grow wet with tears.

He rushed up to her, dropping to his knees in front of her. “Ora, Ora…no. This isn’t your fault.” He wrapped his arms around her and stroked her back as she clutched at his robes, heavy sobs pouring out of her. She was always so quick to blame herself when things went wrong. 

“This keeps happening. I make plans that other people count on for survival and they die,” she sobbed, losing herself to grief and despair.

He looked at the rest of the party, their faces showing nothing but worry. He made eye contact with Wyll. “Give us a moment?” He asked softly. Wyll nodded and they congregated a few paces up the road, around a small bend to give them privacy. 

He held her tighter, his hand lightly resting on the back of her head, pressing her gently to his chest. He rocked her slowly as she let it all out. “It’s not your fault my love, it’s not your fault,” he repeated. “You couldn’t have known they would be ambushed. And think of the ones you saved - they are so grateful for you, Ora.” 

She pulled away and looked at him, her eyes red-rimmed and her face puffy from crying. She wiped her eyes, unsuccessfully trying to stave off future tears from falling. He put his hands on both sides of her face, angling her to look at him so she couldn’t see the fallen tieflings. 

“It’s not your fault.” He repeated again, softly punctuating each word, the pads of his thumbs brushing away the wetness on her cheeks. He knew she was thinking about her friend, still feeling like it was her actions that caused her death. That, coupled with this new guilt would lead her into a spiral. He could see it on the fringes of her eyes - recognizing his own experience when he isolated himself from the world after the orb took root in his body and again after receiving Mystra’s demand that he take out the Absolute via detonation. She had been unrelenting in dragging him away from that place in his mind. She still was. It was his turn to protect her, to fight for her. 

“But…how can you keep putting your faith in me when this is the result?” She whispered, looking down at the ground, studying a particularly gray pebble between them. 

“Ora. I will say this a thousand times. This is not your fault,” he said as he placed a finger under her chin, tilting it up so he could look into her eyes and smiled softly. “You have such a big heart. From the beginning, you’ve taken everything on yourself - no matter how many times I tell you to let others help to carry the burden, you try to be the savior for everyone. These are dark and dangerous times. We cannot save everyone, but we must remain grateful for the ones we can. You cannot sink into the pits of despair. These lives are lost, but think of all the lives we will save when we defeat the Absolute. Together. Because of you.” 

He kissed her gently, feeling her lips trembling underneath his as she resisted breaking down again. He knew this one conversation would not assuage her guilt over the fate of these tieflings, but he would do his best to keep her afloat just as she had done for him since he met her. 

“All of us are here because of you. We are only here because of how much you care, how deep your love is for anyone who needs help. It’s who you are as a person, as much as you’re a ranger or I am a wizard. We would all be wandering separately without you. You are the gentle bond that formed this group and holds it together. So yes, we will put our faith in you. We will put our faith in you until the end of our journey and even farther than that. And I will put my faith in you until the end of my days.”

Ora looked over the bodies of the tieflings once more, as if trying to burn the memory into her mind so she wouldn’t forget what they were fighting for - not just for their own reasons of ridding themselves of the tadpoles in their brains. Their fight had taken on a larger purpose, though Gale couldn’t exactly pinpoint when. Perhaps it always had once they stepped foot in the grove. 

He stood up, holding out his hand for her. 

Her brow furrowed and she got that determined look in her eyes that he loved so much. There was a fire inside her that wouldn’t be put out, a fight that would never end as long as there were those in need who couldn’t defend themselves. She took his hand, standing up and kissing him deeply.

“Let’s go,” she said before stalking off down the path, leaving everyone in her wake. 

There she was, his fierce ranger. 

******

This place was exhausting. Whenever Auroria thought they were moving forward on their plan to take down the Absolute, five additional things were added to the long, long, long list of things they needed to do first. After seeing the tieflings on the path, helpless and ambushed and murdered, Auroria wanted to do nothing more than put a flaming arrow right between Ketheric Thorm’s eyes. Or maybe a void arrow - being sucked into an endless void seemed like an appropriate end for such a monster. Though it wouldn’t have mattered which arrow she chose anyway - Ketheric apparently couldn’t be killed. They just hadn’t figured out his secret yet. Add that to the list .

At least she got to get out some of her seething rage when she dealt with the goblins on Z’rell’s orders. Not another word - in fact, not another breath from any of you. It gave her satisfaction to watch them struggle, then finally die without lifting a finger. She felt the tadpole in her brain squirm with delight as she gave in to its influence for just those briefest of moments. She remembered feeling Gale’s hand on her shoulder after that, an unspoken question between them - Are you okay?  

She was not, but her boiling rage had quieted to a warm simmer. 

Trudging back to the campsite at the end of a long evening of pouring over maps and developing strategies with Jaheira, a few Harpers, Lae’zel, and Wyll, all she wanted to do was turn time back to that morning with bright sunshine in her eyes, laughter, and Gale pressed against her. It felt like so long ago, like it had happened to a different person. As she opened her tent flap she thought about finding the biggest glass they had in camp for wine. Maybe she’d just drink straight from the bottle. 

On her bedroll was a note. She smiled, recognizing the elegant script easily. 

My love, I know today was difficult for you. Come to my tent when you’re comfortable.P.S. I have wine at the ready.

She entered his tent and was greeted with a warm embrace. His arms wrapped tightly around her, and his hand moved to the back of her head, pressing her into him just as he did on the path earlier that day. He pressed a soft kiss on the top of her head and she melted into him.

“I never told you thank you earlier,” she said. “For pulling me out of the darkness. Twice.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, this is what we do for each other. I promise to pull you out of the darkness, just like you pull me back from the precipice,” he said before kissing her softly.

“Deal,” she said, smiling. “Now, I believe you mentioned something about wine?”  “Right this way, my lady,” he gestured to the side of this tent, two glasses and a bottle on a small table beside his bedroll, which had been combined with one of the spares to be twice as wide. He settled down onto it, patting the space beside him. He grabbed a book of poems and as they drank and laughed, he read passages out of it to her, his warm voice instantly relaxing her and draining her tension away. When the wine was gone and she was curled into him, her arm draped across his stomach as he continued reading out loud, she thought of the unasked question from the tower again - Are you okay? As long as he was with her, she would be.

[punsmaster69]

30/DEC/20XX

[It's not Sans' handwriting. It appears to be Toriel's.]

Heya.

I've tasked Tori with transcribing for me right now as actually 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 is a bit of a task in of itself at the moment.

Oh. Not to mention the shaking. That's also not helping in the slightest.

If you wanna say hello here you can, T-

Er. I was not supposed to write that part, was I?

~-

Hello. I am Toriel. Currently helping Papyrus keep a level head while assuring Sans' recovery.

The following and previous will be narrated exactly as Sans says, not as I.

~-

I think my eye's fine, but the pain is where the main issue arises.

Something about head pain always messes up my vision.

"Dunno" why.

(I do not know if he writes it as such, but he really does say it that way.)

Pretty irritating that I can barely walk myself to the next room without feeling like I'll collapse into a pile of bones within seconds.

Considering I'd usually be more than happy to let others do everything for me...

It's weird, isn't it?

.....

"No. I feel that this is quite different, is it not?"

"The difference between choosing to be lazy and being forced to do nothing may not seem obvious, but it is most likely about the amount of control. You cannot control what is happening to you here, even despite your best efforts."

"Of course that is irritating."

"......."

~-

He returned but a shrug.

~-

Not sure how much of this Paps covered, but I think the last thing I wrote on my own was about 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲, right?

Well.

Tried them.

Didn't go well.

Eye... might not work the same as it used to. Or maybe it'll work itself out. Who knows.

Gotta say.

For a body that needs me to use more magic so badly, it really hates when I use magic.

That might be my fault too, though. Probably way more out of practice than I thought (or hoped) I was.

The next step would be to try blue magic for real this time, I guess.

But not today.

Maybe not tomorrow.

"....."

"paps."

~-

Papyrus' pacing continues.

~-

"paps."

~-

Still, pacing.

~-

"Papyrus."

~-

Startling a bit, he's turned on his heel to face us.

~-

"YES?"

"can you do me a favor?"

~-

Papyrus got closer. Sans pushed himself to the upright position, rising his skull from my lap. He's pointing to the open seat beside us.

~-

"test that seat for me?"

"TEST? I- I GUESS? BUT WHY..?"

~-

It was a trap that Papyrus would have surely recognized, were he less mentally frazzled at the moment.

Using his weight, Sans has his brother trapped to the couch seat now.

~-

"your anxiousness is rubbing off on me."

"relax, bro."

"I DON'T HAVE A CHOICE RIGHT NOW, DO I?"

"you could choose to throw me off of you."

"...."

"NOT A CHOICE."

"Is that all for the entry?"

"yeah, unless you wanna give some closing thoughts of your own."

~-

....

There is not much I can say that will not come across as solely pity towards him. It is quite the worrying situation.

I am glad to be of assistance today. A time too many has he pushed himself while down.

Ah.

You will likely reread this at some point, Sans, will you not?

Truly, pity is not the only feeling I hold towards you, my dear.

I care so, so much about you.

More than I think you accept, at times. There are so many words I could use to describe those feelings I hold.

At least a little bit...

I'd like to believe you know how truthful I really am being.

P.S.

Please be nicer to yourself.

Even if it is difficult.

[mechformers]

Ma Miles - Ch. 15

7k words

Chapter warnings: Injuries, depictions of wounds, blood, Mo'at's mind is dirty, the reader is giving Quaritch a "sponge" bath (I swear, I tried my hardest not to make it...sexy), soiled underwear (I'm really so sorry, but the guy's been unconscious for quite a while - I don't make the rules lol)

I'm a day late, I'm so sorry... Thank you so much for leaving comments, though! It's my absolute weakness and it makes me so incredibly happy to know what you're thinking and feeling. So really, thank you so much!

(If you want to be tagged with the updated chapters, please leave your @ myusername in the comments! ) Previous chapter | Masterpost | Chapter 16

The worst was not behind you. In fact, the worst stood right before you in the form of your worst nightmare come to life. You hadn’t been long in the air on the second day when a screeching sound of an obviously distressed ikran called in the distance, only for Hawnu to call back to it, responding to the call. Your ikran sent worrying emotions through your bond but it wasn’t before the other ikran came closer, and you recognized it, that you understood why. 

Cupcake flew toward you, her distressed, desperate screeches almost painfully loud as she flew in circles before you. She was still wearing the heavy armor that the sky people had adorned the ikrans with. It seems to have been ripped in places by something big and strong enough to inflict such damage to an ikran. Hawnu chirps at Cupcake, before changing direction, silently asking you to bear with him through the bond. Putting your hand on his neck, you shift Neteyam’s weight against you before turning your head to look at Mo’at. The older woman just nods, her expression one of surprise, yet…not? You don’t have time to wonder what it was about as Hawnu picks up altitude before rounding a corner you knew all too well. 

Looking to the other side of the cliffs, you gasped at the forest view that plagued your dreams as much as it soothed you. The what if’s had been spinning around in your mind for weeks, never leaving you alone for long enough to find rest. Would things have turned out differently if only… Hawnu lands on the edge of the cliff, his powerful wings folding forcefully as he steps further from the edge before lowering down. Already, you can see the Na’vi laying motionless a few yards away. While Mo’at and her ikran land, you steel your nerves before absentmindedly breaking tsaheylu with Hawnu. Securing Neteyam on his back, you look back at Mo’at before stepping down. In the back of your mind, you already know who it is.

A heavy weight settles in your stomach as you approach the demon. He’s lying on his side by the tree line, the shadow just barely covering his body. Turning the demon around on his back, your heart clenches painfully at what you see. The demon’s face is swollen, blood long since stopped running, the fluid caking over where gravity had led its trail. The cuts littering his body are just as swollen as those on his face are, the infection has long since started. He’s too pale, his breaths shallow and his body alarmingly thin compared to how massive he had been only a few weeks past. Beside him, rotting meat and fruits lay all but untouched. Cupcake had obviously tried to fend for him alone, the ikran most likely with him when... 

“Does he live?” Mo’at asks, her voice clipped, almost emotionless. 

“Yes,” You confirm, your own voice hard. “He’s badly hurt,”

You say it more as an afterthought as you rise. Looking around the cliff clearing, you try to collect your thoughts, try to decide what to do. In reality, it shouldn’t be a question at all, not after what he had done to your son, to you - to the Na’vi people and Pandora. Leaving him here would mean death. Of that, you were fairly certain. If he was this close to his home without the sky people having picked him up, it would mean that he truly had no one else than Cupcake to take care of him. 

Turning your back to him, you walk back to Hawnu. The demon had caused all of this, had brought this on himself. Eywa was ready to accept him into her warm embrace, but he had rejected her and all of her children in the worst way possible. Getting up on Hawnu, you spare him one last look, seeing how Cupcake moves closer, nudging his motionless body as she chirps at him. His body is all but lifeless as he flops around to his side. 

Shouting angrily to the skies, to Eywa, to… everything, you get off of Hawnu again. You can hear Mo’at’s approving hum as you all but stomp over to the demon. Rolling him over to his back again, you take your knife and start cutting at the armor-like coverings he’s wearing. Huffing to yourself, you wonder what good it is when the material gives way too easily before your knife. You fumble a bit with the big chest piece, even though you had watched the recoms take them on and off before. Having removed all weapons and armor from his body, leaving the demon in his tight-looking little tweng, you try your best to sit him up before hoisting him over your shoulder. 

It’s almost impossible, his sheer mass, although he’s grown thin, almost too heavy. You wobble your way over to Hawnu before falling to your knees when you try to put him down again. Kicking his deadweight off of you, a split second of fear strikes you at causing even more damage to him. The demon’s body just slides against Hawnu’s flank, however. Getting up to your feet, you walk over to Cupcake, trying to get a handle on how her armor works. It’s punctured in odd places, as if something had bitten her neck, but when you touch your finger to the holes, there’s nothing but firm skin beneath. The armor had obviously protected her, but it needed to go. 

Turning back to the discarded weapons, you take the big knife out of its sheath. Cupcake is surprisingly calm as you struggle to cut through the armor binding her. Only when the last piece of armor falls, does she screech loudly and spread her wings as she shakes her long neck. Her joy is enough to put a smile back on your face. Putting the knife back in its sheath, you stare down at it for a moment before bringing it with you, stepping over the demon as you reach for Hawnu’s bag. 

“Can you do anything for his wounds?” You ask Mo’at, noticing how she’s still staring at the demon. 

It is not lost on you how the story goes. You had been at hometree yourself during the attack, but when some people had fled with the first smoke, you had been lucky enough to have been grabbed, escaping the massacre that had followed. Your Olo’eyktan, Mo’at’s mate, had lost his life that day, and shortly after, Tsu’tey had followed. All thanks to the demon before you. 

“When Eywa spoke to me of change to come, I did not expect it to happen this soon,” Mo’at starts, deep in thought as she continues to stare at the demon, “That this change would be him…” 

She didn’t have to finish her sentence, you already understood, and why she had joined your journey suddenly became so clear. Mo’at had stayed behind when her family left the Omatikaya, the Tsahìk no doubt training her replacement for the day when she could join her daughter again. 

“How long have you known?” You can’t help yourself from asking, not even when Mo’at’s all-seeing eyes shift to you, pinning you down.

“Eywa spoke of a difficult change to come shortly before Neytiri and her family left the Omatikaya. I interpreted the challenge would be to let them go, but when you arrived with Neteyam still alive, the Great Mother showed me that the changes were still to come, that it would be the hardest challenge of my life,” The way Mo’at clenches her fist lest you understand just how difficult this was to the Tsahìk. “No challenge will ever be more difficult than the demon, Y/n,”

“No medicine will help him in this state. The demon will need to be cleaned.” Mo’at hums cooly before looking at Neteyam, “Your ikran cannot carry his weight in addition to the two of you. My grandson will fly with me,”

There’s nothing you can say about that. She is your Tsahìk, your clan’s spiritual leader, and therefore the one in charge. What she says goes. Walking over to Neteyam, you’re grateful that the young man sleeps well.  They would need to find a place for him to rest soon anyway, so you might as well search for somewhere safe to stay for the night. The demon would, undoubtedly, need a thorough cleaning with the way he stank and his wounds caked with old blood and puss. You just hoped he wouldn’t wake up anytime soon. 

Carrying Neteyam over to Mo’at, helping her lift the young man up to sit in front of her on the ikran, you turn back to stare at the demon again. His heavy mass had been daunting the short distance you had carried him over to Hawnu, but to actually lift him to sit astride your ikran would be a nightmare. For a second, you wondered if hauling him over Hawnu’s back would be alright, but you quickly cast that idea aside. For some unfathomable reason, you had decided to help the father of your son, and help him, you would. It still didn’t mean you had to be happy about it, but at least you could look Spider in the eyes and say that you tried. 

Sighing deeply, you pray to Eywa for strength as you pull his arms over your shoulders, hoisting him up to lay over your back. On wobbly legs, you manage to rise high enough to lift his leg over Hawnu’s neck, but as you try to push, the sheer mass of the demon slides down your back instead, his weight too much for you to hold back. Like a bag of seeds being dropped to the ground, the demon coils into a heap as he hits the ground. 

Growling, you bend down to harshly pull on his stupidly heavy arm. The demon is impossibly heavy, impossibly long, and stupidly uncooperative in this unhelpful state of his. Eventually, you manage to drape him over Hawnu’s back, his long legs dangling on each side as you try your best to balance him on Hawnu’s back, only to realize that he’s sitting the wrong way around. Hissing with annoyance, you step up on Hawnu’s back, shoving the demon back as you take your place. Balancing his body you push your legs beneath his, grunting at the added weight it brings to your own balance. In the end, the demon is all but sitting in your lap, his massive body held against yours. Making tsaheylu with Hawnu, you beg for his forgiveness, asking him to be strong while you try to balance the demon’s weight. 

Looking back at Mo’at and Neteyam, you signal that you’re ready to move. The smirk on Mo’at’s lips is not lost on you, nor is the raised eye when you huff at the demon as his head slides down your shoulder. He stinks and it pains your nose to have him this close to you. Taking off after Mo’at, you wobble slightly to find your balance until Hawnu manages to stretch his wings in the warm midday air. You needed to find a safe place to stay for the night, somewhere, preferably, close enough to a pond. But proximity to a pond also meant proximity to predatory animals in the woods. You would need Hawnu’s help to both get the demon up and down from a fitting tree. 

Following Mo’at, you let your mind wander to the demon in your lap. On so many levels, you wanted to just let him slide off Hawnu, lean your head over to watch him plummet to his death, and shrug your shoulders as you continued on your way. But you knew that this was your bleeding heart talking to you, its bruises fresh as the gashes bleed uncontrollably. You don’t even want to think of the reason why, but the thought springs forth anyway. 

During your months as the demon’s captive, you saw a side to him you hadn’t expected. Qualities that spoke straight to your heart, to your mind, and most importantly, to your soul. It was a young girl’s foolish hope to deny it any longer. You had fallen in love with the man in your arms, fallen in love with the father of your child in the most horrible of conditions. Yet, if you really dug deep, you couldn’t regret it. The man before you had such potential and you could only guess that it was what the Great Mother had seen in him when the atokirina had embraced him in his entirety all those months ago.

You don’t notice how your hand finds its way up to cup the back of his head, holding him protectively closer, nor the way Mo’at’s smiles as she looks back at you. Deep in your thoughts, there’s only you and him, fighting your way through the wilderness of Pandora to get to your son. There is no betrayal, no harsh foreign words as he takes your son away from you for a second time, there’s no anger and disappointment over making your son cry. There is no burning of innocent villages or killing of sacred animals.

A sharp whistle pulls you out of your musings, however, Mo’at gesturing for a descent toward a mountainside. Confused, you follow the older woman’s lead. Looking back you were relieved to see that Cupcake followed your lead, still flying close to Hawnu. Your confusion, however,  only increases when, upon landing, you’re met with nothing of significance. There’s nothing there but the wild beauty of the Great Mother. 

“Send your ikrans away,” Mo’at hums as she breaks tsaheylu with her own ikran before gathering Neteyam in her arms and siding off. 

Following suit, you ask Hawnu to stay safe and to watch over Cupcake, before clumsily sliding off of his back while balancing the demon. Leaning him over your shoulder, you back up until his long legs slid off of Hawnu and his full weight rested on you. Grunting, you fold your arms under the demon’s bottom, careful to slide your hands under his tail so as to not put pressure on it. Hawnu doesn’t need to be asked twice before taking off, his mighty wings spreading as he lifts off of the ground, cupcake and Mo’at’s ikran following his lead immediately. 

“Come,” Mo’at calls to you, the older woman already moving toward the mountainside. 

Walking with the demon hoisted over your shoulder like this is difficult. You’re not the strongest Na’vi, neither warrior nor gatherer. Your contribution to the clan never depended on your physical strength. Still, you put one foot in front of the other as your thighs burned under the demon’s weight. 

“What you are to see stays between us, child,” Mo’at turns to you, her expression one of stony seriousness, making your spine straighten as you nod your head in understanding. 

Giving a minute nod of her own, Mo’at shifts Neteyam in her arms before turning back to the mountainside. Stepping up to the vines climbing up the rockside she reaches into one of the small pouches on her hips with one hand. There’s a powder-like substance in her hand when it emerges and you watch with big eyes as she blows the powder over the vines, the flora glowing brightly before pulling back from the rocks, creating a door to what hides behind. 

“Do not touch the vines. They are poisonous,” Mo’at’s clipped voice calls as she enters the tunnel that has just been revealed behind the vines. 

The passage is small, meant for only one to pass through, but as you maneuver both yourself and the demon though, you move slowly to ensure that neither one of you touches the vines. What greets you once you pass through the dark opening is nothing but a narrow, dark passage. Still, you follow Mo’at as she continues to walk further into the tunnel. It continues for a long while, the temperature dropping the further into the tunnel you walk. The scent of moist cave increases and just for a second, you let yourself doubt your Tsahìk. But like everything else, your doubt is unfounded as the tunnel suddenly opens up to a huge cave. Before you, bioluminescent light awakens as you step further into the cave, the huge space waking to life as it reveals its wonders. 

“What is this place?” You hear yourself ask, wonder and awe icing every syllable of your words. 

“This is a sacred place, one of many hidden, only to be shared between Tsahìk for safe travels or spiritual guidance,” Mo’at hums as she places Neteyam’s still sleeping body up against a rock. 

Stepping further into the cave, you let your eyes wander over the illuminated walls to the right, following its lights until they rest on smaller illuminated cups of water, steam rising from the surfaces. On the other side of the cave sat what looked to be a couple of nests, the blankets removed as if the place had been unused for quite some time. To your left, a cooking area was made, the firestones neatly laid in a circle under a pot. The cave had everything one would need, but what truly took your breath away was the huge pond before you, its round surface nestled up against the rock wall. It was huge and when you stepped up to it, you could see that it continued underwater and further into the mountain. 

“You should wash the demon,” Mo’at speaks up as she fluffs a folded blanket before laying it down on the closest nest. “The cups over there are heated, the water changes with the current underneath, so don’t drop him,”

Once more, you feel the sheer massive weight of the demon on your shoulders, his presence momentarily forgotten as you inspected the cave. Now though, your shoulder burned as you tried to gently put him down, failing miserably when the mass of his body came rushing down once his weight was shifted. His bottom hits the ground hard and you hiss in sympathy as his tail takes the full force of his descent beneath him. Stretching, you look down at him, wrinkling your nose at the state of him. He’s soiled and downright disgusting where he’s discarded, his tweng beyond ruined where it holds onto his narrow hips for dear life. Cleaning him would be a nightmare.

“There are some spare clothing stored in the cave, but I do not know if any of them will fit him. The demon is quite big,” Mo’at calls from behind you, still fussing over Neteyam, changing his wound. 

Making sure that the demon won’t fall into one of the cups of water, you walk over to Mo’at, moving to the chest she points at. Opening it, you’re met with different kinds of clothing. There are capes, chest pieces, twengs, and leg protectors. They’re all in different sizes, but the demon is huge. Although his waist is narrow, it’s still thicker than any Na’vi you had ever seen, the sheer mass behind his body making him bigger than usual. Neither of the twengs you held up would fit him, his big bottom would be taking up most of the cloth, giving him little protection. But then again, the tweng he wore now offered no front or back cover so maybe it would be alright? 

Picking the longest tweng, a deep green with leather straps, you hold the cloaks up, hoping that one of them would be big enough to cover him. Eywa smiles upon you when the very first cloak you hold up turns out to be a broad and long one. Happy with the choices, you neatly place the other items back into the chest, bringing the tweng and cloak with you. However, when you approach the devil once more, the daunting realization of what you have to do dawns on you. It’s been many years since the last time you’ve had to clean a soiled tweng, and back then, it had been your son’s small toddler tweng. 

The man before you was certainly not a toddler and certainly not small. Hesitating, you look pleadingly back at Mo’at, hoping that she might show you mercy this once. As a healer, she surely must have dealt with this before, right? However, when your eyes meet, the older woman shakes her head firmly before getting back to whatever she was doing in the cooking area. Sighing deeply, you close your eyes as you once more ask the Great Mother to lend you her strength. It doesn’t work… When you open your eyes, the demon still lies there motionless and dirty.

Clenching your jaw, you put the new clothing down a safe distance from the cups of water before you kneel before the demon. Turning him over on his side, you try to look for the fastening of his tweng, but after a while, it becomes clear that there are none. Much like the demon’s leg coverings, his tweng does not have straps to hold it in place. Grabbing your knife, you cut his tail free before you turn him over on his back once more. Taking hold of the impossibly soft material, you cut the first leg free before moving over to the other, closest to you. 

It’s not lost on you how his bare body would be revealed to you without his consent, on how you would see his bare form for the very first time in a situation like this. But he could not stay in the state he was in. The alternative would be to tell your son that your stiffness cost his father his life when it easily could have been saved, had you not been so shy. Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you let your knife slice through the material, bending it back and pulling the twengs down between his legs. 

“Hmm… not bad,” Mo’at hums from behind you, her face clouded with impressed humor as she stares at the demon. “Here, you will need this to lean him,” 

Taking the bowl and cloth from her hands, you put them down by the cup of water closest to you. Removing your own tweng and chest piece, you step into the water sighing with relief as the warm water soothes your nerves. For just a moment, you let your eyes wander over the demon’s body, his powerful muscles still impressive, despite how thin he had grown. Your gaze followed as his massive chest rose and fell with each shallow breath he took, his stomach moving as it caved between his ribs and hip bones. His thighs went on for ages, making way for his incredible height, where he towered over most Na’vi. The gift toe on each foot made your ears twitch. Although you were used to the extra digits from having Spider, to see the adult Na’vi version of it made you stop for a second. 

Sighing, you grab his ankles, gently pulling him inch by inch into the cup of water. His heavy body forces you to use everything you have to be able to pull him in, but slowly his knees rest on the brim, his legs dangling into the hot water. Clenching your teeth, you look up over the rest of him, dreading how the heaviest part of him still remained. This time, however, you were unable to stop your gaze from landing on the demon’s genitals. Immediately, your cheeks heat at what you see. You’re unable to keep the gasp from leaving your lips as your eyes grow big with intimidated shock and curiosity. The demon was, indeed, big. Even in his rested state, his member nestled heavy and thick in the crook of his hip, his testicles full and big beneath. 

Averting your eyes, you’re met with the knowing shrug of your Tsahìk, the older woman’s smirk bringing you even more embarrassment at getting caught. With cheeks burning, you reach for the demon’s hand, pulling him sideways until he is ready to tip over into the water. Stepping forward, you lift his arms to rest over your shoulders before pulling him in. It’s not ideal, the demon’s height and weight immediately pulling you down with him as the rest of his body follows. Gasping you hurry to keep his head over the water, spreading your legs to hold his weight as he drapes over you. 

Locking your arms around his waist, you breathe heavily as you let the moving water do its thing. Distantly, you wished you had something like this at home, the constantly shifting water bringing fresh, hot water to the surface as the dirty water disappeared. When you deemed the demon to have soaked long enough, you clumsily moved over to the edge to grab the cloth and bowl that Mo’at had offered you. Immediately, you recognize the strong scent of soap. Dipping the cloth into the water, you squeeze it gently before dipping it into the bowl. Gently, you let the cloth drag over the demon’s shoulders, letting the lazy studs form before being washed away again. 

Inch by inch, you clean the demon’s back. Pushing your thigh between his legs, you gently lean him back until his head rests on the brim and he’s spread out before you. All too gently, you wipe at the crusted blood on his face, wincing at the swelling as fresh blood bubbles forth, only to slide down his slack face. He looks almost gentle while his face is slack with sleep and it reminds you of how his face should have looked, all nuzzled up and content as he snuggles close to you. The thought makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest, your ears flattening against your skull as you wince. 

Dipping the cloth into the bowl of soap, you continue to clean the demon, letting the studs gather over his arms, his chest, his torso until there is only one area that remains. Steeling yourself, you take a deep breath as you dip the cloth into the bowl of soap once more. Resting both of his arms over the brim of the water, you grab the cloth while cupping the demon’s member in your hand, bringing it down. Guiding the cloth, you clean his privates, making sure to get every crook and cranny as you lifted his tail out of the way. In the end, the only thing that remained was to hoist him up and out of the water. 

Which proved more difficult than you had first anticipated. In the end, after the demon slides you both back into the water, Mo’at offers to help. With an arm in each of your hands, the two of you manage to drag him out of the water. Sitting down beside him, you breathe heavily as Mo’at walks back to Neteyam, the older woman chuckling as she mutters to herself. Getting your breath back in your lungs, you take the offered blankets that Mo’at holds out to you. Picking a nest a little further away, you place the blankets around in a comfortable manner before stepping over to the demon again. 

Lifting him up while wet was even more difficult, but you managed to bend him over your shoulder as you wobbled your way over to the nest you had prepared. Gently laying him down in the middle, you take one of the blankets and start wiping his body down, drying off what little water remained. Holding up the tweng, you roll him over on his side as you place the leather over his hips. Binding it around his tail, you fasten the fabric before placing it comfortably between the demon’s cheeks. Rolling him to his back again, you gently cop his member and testicles as you drape the fabric over them, making sure to pull them back as you fasten the fabric to the front. Tightening the leather, you step back out of the nest, walking over to the cup of water to put your own tweng and chest piece on. 

When you finish, Mo’at is already sitting by his side, binding his wounds in paste and leaves while she chants silently. Something you didn’t know you were holding back shifts inside of you as relief washes over you. Turning her head, Mo’at looks at you with a knowing expression on her face. 

“Come,” Mo’at gestures with a shift of her head, “You should learn how to do this,”

And just like that, you find yourself learning how to dress the demon’s wounds, learning what to apply where and which salve and paste to use. Smiling to yourself, you enjoyed learning about this, enjoyed the fact that you now would know how to help if it ever was needed again. 

“What makes Neteyam sleep like this?” You find yourself asking when you’ve finished and Mo’at has approved of your work. 

“I mixed a sleeping paste with his food to make his travels easier. I had not expected our journey to be interrupted so soon,” Mo’at replies as she lays down beside her grandson, “The Metkayina clans are not too far from here. I had hoped to reach Awa'atlu tomorrow before eclipse,” 

“Do you know the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk?” You ask while sitting down beside the demon, looking at him while he rests. 

“I do,” Mo’at looks at you, studying your face as she thinks. “They assisted Jake Sully after the attack on hometree. Toruk Makto gathered what clans he could reach before the sky people came for the Vitraya Ramunong, before he came,” She points at the demon. 

“Did they know each other, is that why they’re arguing?” You find yourself asking, flinching when Mo’at narrows her eyes. 

“The demon was Jake Sully’s leader when he first came to us. They wanted what was in the soil, beneath the hometree, and once they got that, they wanted more. But it did not seem as if the demon wanted anything other than Toruk Makto,” Mo’at starts, her face getting a far-off stare. “Jake Sully betrayed the sky people to be one of us, to protect the people and Pandora. This Colonel Miles Quaritch did not like that,”

“I’m sorry, “ You don’t know what else to say, “Is that why Neytiri never accepted Spider?”

“My daughter holds great anger for the demon. He caused the death of her father and the death of so many more than Eytukan. Spider is the son of the demon, yet he is your son,”

“Spider is nothing like the demon,” You hiss, your ears snapping back close to your skull in defense. 

“Spider is Omatikaya, Y/n,” Mo’at shoots back with such strength that it makes goosebumps spread over your skin, “Yet, he cannot deny his parentage. He has a foot in both worlds, it yet remains to see if it will be his strength or downfall,”

Closing your eyes, your tail wraps tightly around your thigh in an attempt at comforting yourself. I don't work. You want your son, you need to know that he’s safe, that he’s not hurt or lonely. Although Neytiri did not care for him like she would a Na’vi-born child, you knew that he was safe with her and Toruk Makto. Lo’ak and Kiri were with them and so, Spider would not be lonely. Sighing deeply, you open your eyes to stare at the demon. He had caused so much suffering and pain, and yet, here you were; taking care of him, nursing him back to health. 

“Trust the Great Mother, Y/n, she will guide the way,” Mo’at speaks before fluffing a blanket, “Everything happens for a reason,”

And just like that, the older woman lies down to sleep, leaving you to stare at the demon alone. Sleep doesn’t come easy that night. As you stare at the demon, your mind wanders the memories of your time together, analyzing, remembering, soaking up the hurt and pain, and when you woke again, your heart felt heavier than it had been for quite some time. You went through changing his wounds with Mo’at by your side, surprised to see the swelling and infection already starting to heal. You feed him enriched fluids, helping him swallow the small amounts of liquid before eating something for yourself. Packing up, you clean and put away what you had used before once more hoisting the demon up over your shoulder. The trek out of the cave this time felt longer and heavier than the previous night. 

You don’t struggle as much as you did the previous day when getting the demon up on Hawnu’s back, getting settled easier than before. You drape the cape over the demon’s shoulders in an attempt to protect his body from the unforgiving sun and the cold air as you flew. Smiling, you huff a small chuckle when Cupcake wanders over to smell the demon’s body, obviously approving when she chirps at you. 

It’s not until the first break that Neteyam awakens, the young man’s eyes widened as he realizes what his grandmother had done. He was not pleased, Neytiri’s frown mirrored on his face as he grumbled at Mo’at for keeping him ”out of the game”, claiming that he was supposed to be a warrior. To the older woman’s credit, she doesn’t rise to his childishness, only waving him away as she helps you prepare more paste and salve for the demon. Too late, you realize what seeing the demon with them does to the young man. 

“What is he doing here?” Neteyam hisses and it’s the most venomous sound you have ever heard in your life, “Grandma?!”

“Hush child,” Mo’at barks, but it’s of no use. In a matter of seconds, Neteyam has grabbed a knife and is charging for the demon. 

Before you know what you’re doing, you’ve discarded the salve you were mashing into a smooth paste and thrown yourself protectively over the demon’s body. You’re just in time as Neteyam’s knife slices through the air, the blade nicking your skin as you manage to dislodge it from his hand. It’s not lost on you that had he not already been weakened by his wound, the knife would have gone straight through your arms and into your chest. 

“Step aside, Neteyam,” You hiss furiously as blood drips down your arm. 

“You’re protecting him?” Neteyam shrieks and the sound makes your heart ache because you feel his pain. 

Protecting the demon goes against everything in your mind, yet, your body had reacted before you even had time to register what was happening, your body instinctively knowing what to do before your mind did. 

“It is the Great Mother’s will, Neteyam,” Mo’at interjects, wrapping her hand over her grandson’s shoulder. “We cannot question Eywa’s choices, no matter how much we disagree with it,”

“He killed Granpa, he killed Sylwanin,” Neteyam hisses, and the words sent such an instant reaction through Mo’at that it made Neteyam step back. 

“Who says this, child?” Mo’at hisses furiously. 

“Mom and dad said that-”

“Your mother and father are fools, blinded by rage. The demon did not kill my mate. A piece of wood from the hometree did. And Sylwanin’s rage was what got her killed,” It looked like the words pained Mo’at to admit, but at the same time, it looked like something loosened inside of her as her face mellowed out. 

“The sky people have caused much devastation and sorrow, Neteyam, but they are not to blame for every bad thing that has happened. They are not to blame for every warrior's death or every accident that has happened, no matter how much we will it. The Great Mother has a plan for all of us and for some, that journey ends before others. I believe that’s why we were given the Vitraya Ramunong so that we can speak with their souls,”

“My Eytukan knows and accepts his death, knowing that Jake Sully will do what he can for the people. Sylwanin and Tsu’tey are reunited, finally together like they always wanted to. Their journey has ended while ours still continues,” Mo’at holds Neteyam to her chest as the young man cries, her eyes meeting yours as you stare open-eyed at her. 

“The path Eywa has created for us is not always the easiest, but it is the right one,” Mo’at finishes, and for a moment, you feel as if she’s speaking to you directly. 

Looking down at the demon, you stare at his peacefully resting face. The ugly bruises have all but disappeared, the swelling has almost gone too. His cuts still remain, but even they have scabbed over, the paste and salve Mo’at have mixed, working faster than you thought possible. Stepping away from the demon, you clutch the cut on your arm, relieved to see that it’s not deep. Wiping the blood away from your skin, you take some of the salve you had been mixing, hissing at the sting that it causes when you apply it. 

Turning your back to the others, you start the process of changing the demon’s bindings again, getting him ready for the journey ahead once more. You’ve just finished feeding the demon, helping him swallow the liquid when Neteyam moves closer, his ears pinned back against his skull, his tail wrapped tightly around his thigh. 

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt you,” He stutters, unable to meet your eyes, “I’m sorry,”

“How is your wound, Neteyam?” You decide to ask instead, smiling gently at him.

“It hurts, but it’s getting better,” He mumbles, still unable to meet your eyes. 

“When the demon took spider, I went after him,” You start, deciding that the young man deserved to know how you had ended up where you were today. So you tell him everything, tell him about how you had taught the unit the Na’vi way, told him how they had accepted Eywa in their hearts, about how their minds started to follow suit. You told him about how the Great Mother had embraced the demon, sending a sign so strong you could not deny it. And when you had told him everything there was to tell, you told him about how something had changed, about how everything fell to ruin and the events of the Metkayina had happened. It’s not lost on you how Mo’at listens in on the conversation, or how her tail flicks as she comes to her own conclusions, filling in answers to questions only she knows. 

“I thought they would go home after everything,” Neteyam mumbles, his gentle eyes finally meeting yours. “I thought they would bring us home, that we would stop running. I didn’t know they… I didn’t know they stayed behind,”

“It’s alright, Neteyam. Spider is safe with your family and now, your grandmother is with us. Everything is as it should be,” Smiling at him, you lift his chin with your fingers, chuckling lightly when his ears twitch with embarrassment. “We should get moving so that we can see them again,”

“I would like that,” Neteyam smiles and you pull him close, giving the young man a hug. It seems it’s what he needs when he melts into you, his arms wrapping around you so tightly it almost borders on uncomfortable. Cupping the back of his head, you kiss the top. “You’re alright,”

Packing up, you’re on your way once more, soaring through the warm wind as the breeze of the Metkayina area greets you. It isn’t long before there’s nothing but sea around you and then, in the distance, the island groups of the Metkayina clans. The closer you get, the more horrifying the realization is that the villages you’re meeting are the very ones that the demon in your arms burnt to the ground. 

As you fly past the first one, you can see they’ve started to rebuild, but it’s a small comfort as you fly past it. The next two did not fare any better, until suddenly, there were no more burnt villages. Your confusion only rises as Neteyam guides you through the island tribes until you reach a huge smattering of seawall terraces, the pools beautifully glittering as the Metkayina people go about their day. Awa'atlu is beautiful where it opens up before your eyes, the sandbanks in the see-through water making a soothing pattern from the skies. 

Circling back to the seawall terraces, you call to announce your arrival, giving the people time to gather and collect themselves before you circle back, preparing to land. As the Tsahìk, you let Mo’at take the lead as your ikrans slowly descend on the furthest sandbank where the people have gathered. Cupcake follows Hawnu as he spreads his wings widely to make for a gentle landing, his powerful legs supporting you as he touches down, quickly tucking his wings back to make room for Cupcake to land beside him. 

Breaking tsaheylu, you scoot back on Hawnu’s back while getting the demon’s heavy legs off of your own. Balancing the huge man on Hawnu’s back, you slide down from your ikran, your toes curling happily as they land in the warm, wet sand beneath you. Leaning the demon to rest over Hawnu’s back, you step away from him to follow Mo’at’s lead, watching how Neteyam is waiting for you while Mo’at greets the people and the Olo’eyktan as he steps forward. But before you manage to finish your greeting, a voice that immediately makes your knees buckle calls from just behind the Olo’eyktan. 

“Mom!”

Chapter 14 | Masterpost | Chapter 16

[lonesome-witching]

Doesn't the Hero Get the Girl?

The second (and currently last) Spider-Robin prompt. Thank you for the anonymous prompt. It's been a blast writing this even if it was very far out of my comfort zone.

You can read my previous prompts here. Or if you want you can even send in your own prompt.

Nancy fell down on the couch. It had been torture to get home. The subway had gotten stuck and it had taken an hour longer than it usually would have. So, opening the front door to her humble apartment had never been accompanied with this much relief. 

Relief that evaporated into thin air when she turned on the TV. 

“Spider-Man is taking a beating.” The news reporter said, microphone clutched in his hands and Nancy recognized him from the office. The guy was a jerk. Every time they ran into each other he started flirting with her as if she hadn’t already rejected him a dozen times.  

But right now he had her undivided attention, something he apparently craved. Blurry images of Robin in her Spider-Man outfit flashed on the screen. Flashes of Robin falling to the ground, hard enough for the camera to shake. Flashes of Robin crawling back to her feet, slightly shaky and clutching at her shoulder for a brief moment. 

Nancy shuffled toward the edge of the couch. Her right hand pressed to her mouth. 

“Oh.” She gasped when Robin got knocked down again. 

She shouldn’t watch this. But she couldn’t look away. Her heart beating heavily in her chest. They had only been dating for a little while. And this was the first time since their first kiss that Robin seemed to be losing a fight. 

She’d get back up. She had to get back up. Why wasn’t she getting back up? 

Nancy hadn’t even noticed that the fingers of her left hand were tapping against her thigh. This was worse torture than the subway. 

“Come on. Come on. Come on, Robin. I can’t lose you.” She mumbled to the grainy image on the TV screen. 

A dark figure slowly approached Robin who was still on the ground. 

“Please, Robin. Get up! GET UP!!!” 

At the very last second, Robin jumped up, kicking the figure back. 

Nancy breathed out a heavy sigh. But as the camera zoomed in on Robin who was now taking the upper hand, Nancy noticed the cuts in the suit, she noticed the blood and the soft bruises that were forming. She definitely noticed the way Robin’s arm was angled, as if she was trying not to move it too much even though she kept hitting the dark figure. 

“It looks like Spider-Man did it once again. The people in this city can sleep tight tonight knowing Spider-Man is here to keep them safe.” The jerk said, the camera once again focused on his smug face. 

“Spider-Woman, you idiots.” But Nancy had a smile on her face. Robin would come waltzing through that door any second now. 

It took 5 minutes before Nancy turned off the TV. Her eyes focused on her own front door instead. But the door didn’t open. Robin didn’t come in. 

Nancy got up from the couch and started pacing the room. Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. 

“Nance?” 

Nancy jumped up. Right outside her kitchen window, on the fire escape, stood Spider-Man still fully suited up. She was holding on to her waist. Nancy quickly slid open the window, pulling her girlfriend into the apartment.

“Careful, Nance.” Robin’s voice was muffled by the mask. 

“Oh God, Robin. You scared the shit out of me. Are you okay?” 

“Sorry.” Robin slumped against the kitchen counter. “I couldn’t walk through the front door like this. You have too many neighbors.” 

“Robin, are you okay?” Nancy was pulling at the mask, she needed to see Robin’s eyes. She needed to know Robin was okay. But she didn’t look okay. She was barely standing, half of her weight being supported by the counter behind her. 

“I’m fine.” She sighed as Nancy dropped the mask to the floor. But there were red bruises on her cheeks. 

“You don’t look fine. Come here, you need to sit down. And you need to get this damned suit off.” 

“Want to undress me already? I just got home, Nance.” Robin tried to smile but her face turned into a grimace when she tried to walk towards the couch. 

“She’s still got jokes.” 

“Always.” 

“Come on, lean on me.” Their eyes locked and Robin’s expression softened, the pain vanishing for a brief second before returning full force. But she softly nodded and put one of her arms around Nancy’s shoulders. In return, Nancy carefully wrapped her arm around Robin’s waist and pulled her along one step at a time. 

Once Robin sat on the couch, they maneuvered around each other to get the suit off, revealing a plethora of cuts and bruises and open wounds.

“Just give me a second. I’m gonna get the first aid kit.” 

Robin was softly groaning when Nancy came back, falling to her knees next to the superhero. 

“You ought to be more careful next time, babe.” Nancy whispered as she cleaned the wounds. Her fingers softly caressing the skin around them, careful not to cause anymore pain. 

“But then we wouldn’t have these fun patching up moments. I really like the way your hands feel.” Robin sounded sleepy, exhaustion quickly overtaking her now that she was in the comfort of Nancy’s home.

“Well if you weren’t broken and bruised you could feel my hands in a lot more places and it would be a lot more pleasurable.” 

Robin hummed with a smile. “I’ll heal.” 

“You better.” 

“And I’m fine. I’m sure we can have some fun.” One of Robin’s hands tangled into Nancy’s hair. 

“Okay there, Casanova. You’re all patched up. Let’s get you to bed.” 

“Take me to bed, Nancy Wheeler.” 

Nancy took Robin into her arms, holding her upright and slowly walking towards the bedroom. She placed Robin on the bed, tucking her in. Just as Nancy tried to move away, Robin’s hand grabbed for her wrist, pulling her on top of her. 

“Be careful.” Nancy laughed. 

Robin didn’t reply. She simply leaned up, pressing her lips to Nancy’s. Their lips slotted together perfectly. Like they had always been meant to kiss each other. Sometimes Nancy liked to believe they had been. 

“You need to get some rest.” Nancy pulled back slightly, stroking Robin’s bruised cheek. 

“Doesn’t the hero get the girl?” Robin sighed, already trying to close the distance once again. 

“You’ve already got me, Robin.”

[heliads]

Hi, I was wondering if it would be alright if i could request a peter pan x female reader with the prompts 1 & 5? Congrats on 5k btw !

ty! and it is most certainly alright

masterlist

On Neverland, favors are worth their weight in gold. If you can’t step foot off of the island, you have to make what you do on its shores count, and that means making your own utility higher than anyone else’s. Power is played back and forth like a round of cards, and if you’re not careful, you’ll end up on the bottom.

You’ve been at this game for quite some time now, and it wouldn’t be too strong a suggestion to say that you’ve learned how to make it your own. No one can make it work quite like you, and they never will.

Still, you do have to admit that having Peter Pan himself ask for your help does come as a surprise. He makes sure to do it as casually as possible, because Peter will never be able to truly deflate his ego long enough to be on the same level as the rest of you, but it is rather satisfying nonetheless.

He asks his favor as simply as he can, late one afternoon when no one else is around. The hour is late, and you’re barely awake yourself. Many of the other Lost Boys have retired for the evening already, trickling out of the campsite in twos and threes as they head for bunks and hammocks and whatever will hold them for the night.

This already lends strength to Peter’s conquest, knowing that no one can hear him other than the two of you. He keeps his eyes fixed on the endless waves of trees as he walks, you by his side. When he finally speaks, his voice is so carefully quiet that you almost don’t hear him, the words carried away by a sudden breeze that is either nature’s best coincidence or Peter’s doing, just like everything else here.

“Seamen will be coming here tomorrow.”

You arch a brow at him. “Pirates, you think? How can you be sure?”

He gestures vaguely towards the darkened sea. “You’ve seen the ship on the horizon, haven’t you? I recognize the sails. They’re a band of traveling merchants, really no better than pirates. I can call them what I will.”

You bite back a grin. “Peter, you hate pirates more than anyone. Try not to pollute the name by assigning it to anyone else.”

Peter gives you an exasperated look. “Perhaps the fact that I’m even comparing these merchants to pirates in the first place should give some indication of their terrible status. They’ve been here a few times before, and every time, it’s an absolute nightmare.”

You can’t deny the fact that you’re intrigued by this. “You’re the closest thing to a walking nightmare I’ve ever met. What could these merchants have that could possibly make your skin crawl?”

Peter shudders violently. “It’s not just the main group. There’s this one girl in their party who seems quite taken with me. Every time I see her, she’s winking or grinning at me. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that she might actually be flirting with me.”

You can’t hold back a laugh. “Try not to sound so disgusted, Peter. I’ve heard that flirting is often taken as a compliment.”

His stare is acidic, although it does absolutely nothing to quell your high spirits. “It’s not a compliment when she’s tracking me throughout the island. I can’t get a moment’s peace when she’s here.”

You nod solemnly, face twitching as you try to keep your composure. “Alright, then. Peter Pan is afraid of people who like him, that’s not much of a surprise.”

Peter glowers at you. “If I knew you were going to be this supportive, I would have complained to Felix instead.”

You refuse to be cowed by this, and instead just fold your arms across your chest. “Why didn’t you talk to Felix, then? You want something from me, don’t you? If it’s murder, I want to at least meet the girl first. I can’t assassinate someone without knowing for sure that they’re a scoundrel. I have my limits.”

Peter grimaces. “As much as I like that plan, I can’t do it. I need the merchants to like us so they can keep drawing in unsuspecting ships. It makes Neverland more exciting, you know? Murdering one of their crew doesn’t exactly win us any points with them.”

You tilt your head to the side, considering this. “I can see why that would be a problem. What’s your plan, then?”

Peter refuses to look you in the eyes as he explains himself. “Well, the way I see it, this girl would only leave me alone if she truly thought she had no chance of convincing me to return her feelings. I would need something obvious, something like me having feelings for someone else. Feelings that were returned, of course. I would never be caught dead pining for someone like a simpleton.”

You’re confused for a moment, and then you begin to put together the pieces. Peter’s obvious embarrassment to ask something of you. The one thing that could convince a serial flirter that someone is off the table.

A delighted laugh bursts from you before you can stop yourself. “You want me to be your fake girlfriend?”

Peter groans. “Don’t seem so pleased with yourself, I wouldn’t be doing it if it wasn’t a last resort. I have no choice. If I see that girl batting her eyelashes at me one more time, I’ll gouge out my corneas.”

You grin wickedly. “Say all you want, Peter. I’m just trying to appreciate this moment.”

He swats you on the shoulder. “Appreciate it when I’m not here. So? Will you do it or not?”

You let him suffer in silence a second longer, then nod. “Of course I’ll do it. Like there was a chance that I wouldn’t. This is much too fun to ever pass up.”

Peter seems to encounter all of his regrets in an instant. “This is a mistake, isn’t it?”

You beam at him. “Of course it is. That’s why it’s going to be so great.”

Peter seems to take some convincing on that front, even though it’s his idea. You couldn’t be happier to see how this pans out. What would it be like to have Peter Pan pretend to be in love? You don’t know that you’ve ever seen him display a stronger emotion than malice in all the time you’ve ever known him.

As it turns out, Peter pretending to be in love doesn’t seem to be all that different from how he normally acts around you. He tips Felix off, just in case, and you swear you hear the scarred boy mumble something like ‘about time’ under his breath as Peter walks away. After that, all you have to do is wait for the merchants’ vessel to anchor on the shores of Neverland, and see whether your plan will be worth it or not.

Although you can’t remember when these merchants last visited Neverland, you immediately understand Peter’s apprehension the second the docking party touches down on your beaches. They’re all vaguely insufferable, ranging on a broad scale to merely impolite to downright vulgar. 

You’re honestly grateful for the protection of seeming to be in a relationship with Peter on your own front. The merchants have barely been on the island for ten minutes before one of them is looking you up and down. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more relieved as when Peter appeared out of nowhere to stand by your side, idly taking your hand in his when the staring didn’t stop.

Peter’s merchant girl is there too. You could tell which one she was from the moment she arrived, just judging on the way her face fell when she saw you standing so close to Peter. The sight fills you with an odd amount of vicious joy. Yeah, you want to say. Yeah, it’s me and him. What could you possibly do about it? 

Forgetting the fact that all of this is fake, it’s kind of fun to walk around in front of all these people as if you were the one who could convince Peter Pan to fall in love, to feel as if you matter to Peter more than anyone. You think you’ll miss it when this charade ends, that sensation of being more powerful than you have ever known, lighter than air and twice as bright.

Perhaps Peter will miss it too. He seems to maintain the act even when you swear that none of the merchants can see you, just in case they happen to stumble upon you and suspect something otherwise. The two of you used to walk together frequently before the merchants came, but now the outings are longer, and often end in both of you just sitting together, enjoying the company of being alone with someone important to you.

It makes you laugh to think of how little you had before all this. The merchants end up staying for a week and a half, and you don’t know that any ten days have ever been sweeter, even in all the decades you’ve spent never growing old on Neverland. The thought of this ending, of going from having everything to having nothing at all, makes you want to sink the merchants’ ship or do something to keep them there just a little longer. At least then the act could stretch further out into forever.

The end comes, of course, just as you knew it always would. You and the rest of the Lost Boys bid a not so tearful farewell to the merchants at the end of ten days’ time, and you stand on a rocky cliff watching their vessel disappear into a grainy speck on an endless blue horizon.

Then, and only then, do you retreat back into the emerald depths of the forest. You tell yourself that you’re not intentionally seeking out Peter, but you find him anyway. Your feet might have always been oriented towards him, constantly trailing after him, never quite close enough to make it all the way by yourself.

Judging by the look of surprise that flits across his face when Peter looks up and finds himself in front of you, though, you might not be the only one prone to wandering in search of someone. 

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, messing up those same strands of light brown hair that never seem to sit straight. “So, the merchants are gone.”

You nod. “Guess that means you’re free of me.”

Peter chuckles, although his face spams briefly with pain before he manages to control himself again. “Oh, it wasn’t that bad. Honestly, it was kind of fun. I’ve had plenty of time to explore every possible kind of life choice, but never that one.”

“Well,” you hesitate, “if you ever need a fake girlfriend again, know that I’m here. I think we work together marvelously. I’ve never heard a lie that felt so real.”

Peter almost winces. “What if it wasn’t a lie?”

Your gaze jerks up to him. “What?”

He can’t seem to look you in the eyes. “What if it wasn’t a lie?” He repeats, “What if it was real? What I felt was real, I know it. Didn’t you feel the same? Wasn’t it better than anything we’d ever had? Is it asking too much to be young and in love, Y/N? Is it asking too much to let me have you like that forever?”

Peter’s voice builds in intensity until he’s practically begging you to answer him. Even still, it takes you a while to collect yourself long enough to say what you will. “It isn’t,” you whisper, “it isn’t too much to ask. Not to me. I haven’t wanted anything but this.”

As you say it, you realize that it’s true. Being so close to Peter has made you feel more than you have in quite some time. You don’t want him as a friend again, you want him like this. You want him as someone to love. This or nothing at all.

Peter smiles at last. “It’s settled, then. It’s us against the world.”

Just as it always has been, you think. Just as it always will be.

peter pan tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie, @w1shes43, @lost-ender