#but then they met some really dangerous monsters and it turned out they were bad hunters

[gunsmoketrash246]

Designs I made for monster hunters au last year (they don't deserve to stay in folders forever)

[trumpkinhotboy]

I’ll keep an eye on you

pairing: jacob black x reader

type: not requested

genre: a bit spooky, but mostly fluffy and comforting vibes

warnings: mention of blood and being chased after (but nothing too intense)

word count: ~ 2K

requests: open! for twilight wolfpack, narnia and harry potter

a/n: honestly, i’m really excited about this fic. i think it’s very sweet and comforting :3 my brain is bubbling with so many ideas lately so expect new pieces from me in the close future hehe. also if you have any requests feel free to message me!!

i recommend listening to a Twilight Comfort playlist while reading this. Hope you enjoyy <33

part II part III

*gif is not mine!!

summary: After the reader survives an encounter with a vampire, they are still haunted by the memories of it. Luckily, they have a caring and protective friend who is always ready to ensure they feel safe and cared for, even in the middle of the night.

Wrong place, wrong time.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to erase the terrible images invading your brain. For a week now, they have been omnipresent, taking up all the space in your mind. They are the center and focal point of your thoughts for days on end. As you open them again, your vision adjusts to the darkness just enough for your gaze to fall on a strange form crouched in the corner of your bedroom. You could swear it’s alive. Swear it’s stalking you.

You jump out of your bed to turn your nightlamp on. Your heart feels like it might spring out of your chest of its own accord. Your breath is short, and for a moment, you think you’ll never be able to take one that will actually get air in your system.

The menacing form in the corner turned out to be a pile of dirty clothes, but you knew that. Since that day, you feel irrational and paranoid. Everything feels like a threat, and you are now constantly looking over your shoulder, paying close attention to any suspicious sound or absence of it. You’ve talked about it with Harry Clearwater when you unexpectedly met at the Reservation one day. You did not hear him coming, and he had set his heavy hand on your shoulder to get your attention. Which resulted in a glass shattering scream for you and a bad fright for the poor man. As he invited you in for a calming cup of tea, you unloaded the weight on your shoulder to him. It felt good to talk about it, knowing you could never do so with your dad and your friends. He assured you that it unfortunately was a very normal reaction from your nervous system. You had faced the world's most dangerous predator and had survived it without a single scratch. Of course it would take some time for your traumatized brain to go back to normal. You could never take credit for the fact that you even had a chance to go back to normal, and would never attempt to do so. Knowing very well that without Paul, Jared, and Embry’s arrival, you would not have lived to talk about this encounter.

When you focus and let your mind drift off, you can live the event again, as if you were back in time. The paralyzing fear, the blood in your veins feeling like icy water. There was nothing to be done against a creature like that. You remember the horror you felt as everything became silent around you. You were headed to Emily's cabin, a simple, straightforward walk through the woods. The birds suddenly stopped singing, even the soft wind had died down. The forest knew it was in the presence of something truly horrible and had seemed to hold its breath, along with every creature. The color of its eyes was like in every legend you had been told; crimson red, like fresh blood. Not one ounce of humanity in those orbs, just a bottomless pit of cruelty and hunger. The worst thing was the pull you remember feeling for a split second toward that monster. You knew it was its sole purpose, but felt embarrassed you had fallen for it. Shivers crawled down your spine as you recalled its ethereal and hypnotizing appearance. It’s like you can hear again the faint swooshing sound it made as it sprang towards you. You remember sending out a quick prayer to literally any entity who would be listening right now, but the blow never came. Next thing you knew, three giant beasts tackled it to the ground, gnarling and dismembering it in a matter of seconds.

You open your eyes and shake your head to try and physically get those horrible memories outside of your skull. You lay back in bed, anxiously watching every corner of your room for some sign of danger. You left the light open, you knew there was no chance you could fall asleep without it. You tucked yourself back in bed and tried to calm your breathing. You tried every technique you knew, hoping sleep would grace you with its embrace, but nothing worked.

You look back at the clock after a while. 1:15 am. It was too late for you to get out of bed, and morning was still so far away. You had school the next day and knew that if you spent one more night without sleeping, you wouldn’t be able to explain to your teachers why you dozed off again in their class without them calling your father.

In a last effort, you tried thinking about reassuring and comforting things. Curiously enough, one kept coming back to mind. A giant wolf, its fur a multitude of shades of brown and red. Its eyes were sweet and reassuring, containing a particular warmth. You looked at your phone, hesitating, but remembered his voice: “If there’s absolutely anything, call me okay?”

And so you did.

Twenty minutes later, you got a text. You quietly walked to your window, glad to see Jacob’s familiar shape outside your house. He was standing next to a tree, representing for once a friendly and reassuring shadow in the night.

He spoke quietly. “Having trouble sleeping?”

You nodded, a bit ashamed to admit such an infantile fear. Although, deep inside, you knew there was nothing childish about being afraid of the monster you had been warned about as a child, once you had come face to face with it.

“Are you sure you want to do this? I'd totally understand if you'd rather not stay. I mean it's late and you need to sleep. I don't know what I was thinking…”

“Don't be ridiculous." he cut you off. "I’m already here. And once you’ve been asleep for a long time, I’ll go home and catch up on my beauty sleep, okay?”

You knew it wouldn’t take much convincing from him, there was no point in lying. You needed him. You needed the reassurance and sense of security he always brought you.

"If you're sure then… but Jake. You won't leave too soon uh?"

You heard his low chuckle in the distance.

“I promise.”

You slowly and quietly closed your window. The last thing you would want is for your father to wake up and see Jacob standing below your window. You looked back outside, only to see a giant russet wolf had replaced your tall friend. He was standing under the covers of the woods. Forks was a tranquil little city, but you could never be too careful. He gave you a quick nod, encouraging you to go back to bed. You sent him a little thumbs up before heading to your fort of blankets and pillows.

As stupid as it might have seemed, you did feel a thousand times better knowing that Jacob was right outside, watching over you like a guardian angel. To your surprise, sleep quickly came to you, and you fell into its black hole without any resistance.

//

You’re in a dark forest, running and running and running. You can’t breathe, your hands are bloody, everything hurts. All you can hear is an echoing, cold, cruel laugh. You trip over a root and fall. Something is rushing through the dark woods, coming at you. You get back up and run in the opposite direction, but it feels like you’re not getting any further, like you're running in place. You scream for help, calling out for Jacob, Paul, Embry, Jared, ANYONE, HELP ME. But no one answers, you’re alone, and you’re about to die a horrible death. You trip once more, your leg hurts like hell, there’s no point trying to get up again. You turn around to try and decipher who, what, is running after you. Suddenly, in the dark void of the night, all you can see is that horrifying pair of bloodthirsty eyes. You let out one last scream as it sinks its teeth into your skin. //

“Y/n, y/n, wake up! It’s okay I’m here, Y/n!”

You try to run out of bed but feel a strong pair of arms holding you back. The embrace is warm and smells familiar, but you’re not controlling your limbs anymore. Your whole body is in flight mode. Luckily, the thing (person?) holding you back is strong enough to withstand it, and even though you try as hard as you can to run away, your feet aren't even touching the ground anymore.

“Y/nn, Y/n, shhh. It’s okay, I’m here, it’s me. It’s Jacob.”

You focus on the reassuring tone of the voice and try to convince yourself you're not in the woods anymore. You can see your surroundings poorly illuminated by your little mushroom night light. You're in your room, you’re safe, you’re okay.

Your breathing is still fast and shallow. You blink a few times. Sometimes, the vision surrounding you is one of the cold woods. On other, it's the familiar vision of your room. You slowly turn to face your friend’s face. His brows are furrowed, and his traits have worry written on them in bold letters. He scans you, not quite letting go of your body. Too scared you might start screaming and running again.

“Jake?” “Yes, hi. Welcome back. You really scared me there Y/n.” “What- what are you doing in here? What happened?” Your tone is feeble, and you feel exhausted. You look around once more, afraid this might be some other kind of twisted and terrifying nightmare.

“Am I still dreaming?” You dare to ask. “No, you are awake. We’re in your room. You asked me to come to keep an eye on you, remember?”

You nod, still unsure. What if this was a dream inside a dream? What if the warm limbs of your friend suddenly turned ice cold? What if you looked at him and his eyes turned red, fangs slightly poking his lips?

He can see doubt dancing in your eyes. You don't trust him, or yourself. He holds up his palms towards you, trusting you won't bolt and run.

“See for yourself. I’m real, you can touch me.”

You reach a hesitating finger, carefully poking his own. Seems real enough, feels real. It's warm, the skin is wonderfully tanned, familiar. You’ve seen those hands at work a thousand times. You know them by heart. You poke his cheek, and he gives you a tender smile.

“Convinced?”

You nod once more, letting out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding, as your legs start to shake. That's the thing about dreams, isn’t it? Even if it’s only happening inside your head, your body reacts to it as if it were actually living it. You look at your hands, feeling reminiscent of the pain as if you did scorch them in the woods.

He interrupts your thoughts with a low and soft voice. “Come back in bed. I’ll tuck you in.”

He wraps your hands with his huge ones. They’re warm and feel incredibly good. You let him guide you back to your toasty blankets, but instead of leaving, he takes a spot next to you, shielding you from the window.

“What are you doing?” You ask with a timid voice. “I’m keeping an eye on you, dummy.” Your feet are poking from under the covers. You move to offer him a bit of coverage, but he declines. He is already hot enough as he is, although he can’t deny that his heart seemed to grow a size or two at the kind gesture.

You wait a minute before asking how he ended up in your room. You're not sure you want to know, but curiosity wins over embarrassment.

His expression darkens for a second before he starts talking. “I was just keeping guard outside when I heard a noise. You were calling for me… I didn’t even think, I just got in. You were twitching in your bed. I tried to calm you down, I didn't want it to wake up Charlie, but nothing would do. I was about to forcefully wake you, but you ran out of bed and woke up by yourself.”

“Oh.” You finally let after a few seconds of silence.

“Yup.”

Unconsciously, you're not sure, he took ahold of your hand and lightly played with your fingers. He finally lifted his gaze from your joined hands to look at you, all caring and reassuring. You slide in closer to him. All you want is to feel his comforting warmth and maybe offer him as much as you can too. You feel so bad for worrying him so much. He opens up his arms and cradles you in a bear hug. He won't say it out loud, but he's also in dire need of comfort.

You match your breathing to him, and for the first time in a little while, you’re not scared, not even a little bit. If only you could stay like this forever.

After a few minutes of silence, in which you almost fell asleep, you hear him whisper.

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I should have been there. I should have protected you. I’m so sorry, you don't even know.”

“It’s not your fault Jake.” You mumble, and realize you're telling the truth. These are more than empty words. Never has it crossed your mind that this might have been his fault.

“It partially is, if I didn’t drag you into all this you might have been far away. Safe, away from monsters most people don't even know exist."

“I chose to follow you into this Jake. I would be lying if I said this wasn't one of the most horrifying experiences of my life, but it was not your fault. Please get that idea out of your head, okay? I’ll get over it. I guess I just need some time, as Harry said.”

You feel almost fully awake again. He nods, but you know you haven't convinced him. The look on his face is one of guilt, one you've come to know more and more since you learned about his secret. He mindlessly played with a feather poking out of your duvet, avoiding your gaze. Once again, you realized how mature he looked, while still being so young. Too young to carry such heavy burdens. You wanted to hammer the idea out of his thick skull, but you knew there was nothing to do about it tonight. Jacob felt responsible for what happened to you, and convincing him of the opposite would take some time.

Your eyes focused on his tanned skin, and you suddenly became hyper-aware that he was in your bed while only wearing his jeans short.

You inched away of him. “Uhm, want a shirt? I’m sorry, I didn't even think that, since you were in your wolf form, you uh… wouldn’t have one?” You let out an awkward laugh. You were used to seeing him like this, but it was different when you were both lying in bed together in a space that felt so intimate.

“That's nice of you Y/n, but I don't think I'd actually fit into one of your shirts.” He snickers as you get up. You're still wrapped in a blanket as you forage in the pile of clothes next to your bed. You get out of it with a dark cotton t-shirt in hand. It's humongous for you, but you know it will fit Jake like a glove. Probably because it is one of his own.

“There, dummy.” You hand him the t-shirt before jumping back in bed to wrap yourself properly, like a human burrito.

He looks at the piece of clothing and then at you for a good 10 seconds. “You still have this?”

He genuinely looks surprised, but his expression seems mixed with a hint of… satisfaction?

You nod, your nose and eyes being the only part of your anatomy still out of the blankets. You still remember the day he lent you that shirt when you had been caught in the rain at La Push. You never returned it to him, loving the way the gigantic piece of clothing felt on you.

He didn't add anything else before putting the shirt on. “It smells a lot like you.” He adds, a slight tremor in his voice.

“That might be because I wear it a lot to sleep.” You shamefully admit. Your words are nothing more than a whisper, but you know he didn’t have any trouble hearing them. You pull the covers even higher, trying to hide the blush creeping on your cheeks.

“Is that so?” He's smugly smirking. No doubt anymore that he is satisfied with that new piece of information, which makes you want to crawl even further under the covers.

You mutter a quick 'dumbass' before turning away from him. He chuckled before grabbing and pulling you on his broad chest like you weighted nothing more than a feather. You and Jake have always been comfortable with physical touch, but you feel like this is special. You have never done this before. Fine the circumstances were a bit peculiar, but that did not keep you from relishing in the warmth he diffused in waves. You didn't even bother to fake protest. This, is all you need, and you will not be foolish enough to ruin the moment. He wiggles even closer, and you can feel his chest come flush with your back through the layers of blankets. He rests his chin on the crown of your head before lightly stroking the side of his full cheek on your hair.

“Little human burrito.” He mutters. His voice is barely a whisper. Its husky tone makes you shiver. “I’ll watch over you, now go back to sleep.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok vampire hunter!König is hot but how about vampire!Engel with vampire!König who seduced and turned her?

König is the meanest vampire there is.

He never lets his angel become an independent, strong creature of the night; instead, he keeps her in his tower and “teaches” her, telling her she must never venture out because the world is a dangerous place and mortals are more cunning than she can even imagine, and Engel, poor fresh young fledgling that she is, just looks up at him wide-eyed and lips drawn into a thin line and believes everything he says.

And so there’s really no one to tell her that König is shunned by all the other vampires: he has a reputation, he’s more feral than any of them and always keeps to himself, never comes to the balls or burdens himself with the need to charm anyone or even dress properly, he’s like a relic from the past when vampires had to scour their meal from wherever they could get it, filthy docks or poor cottages in the hills, bothering lowly peasants whose blood tastes like dung. König lives in a time of war even though there’s peace now, and plenty of good blood to feast on, he has even killed some of his own – Engel really doesn’t know the full depth of the trouble she’s in... She couldn’t have bumped into a more unfit, berserk, depraved sire.

He always picks her meal for her: always fragile, meek women, dragged to the tower screaming and pale and filled with fear and horror: and he doesn’t even let her feed alone because he likes to watch. No one tells her that this isn’t supposed to happen: that a lamia’s meal is a sacred ritual, it's between her and the sacrificial lamb, and it's also a moment when a vampire is at her most vulnerable... But no: König watches her like a mortal would watch pornography or an obscene play, and Engel thinks it’s perfectly normal, she just wants to please her master, as difficult and hard as it is to do so at times.

And sometimes she feels this odd yearning – she was such a cute, well-behaved mortal, she had her whole life ahead of her, she never did anything wrong, and she never asked to be turned... (yes Engel keep telling yourself that) She just wanted to talk to this mysterious highwayman who walked her home when she got lost in the woods, who gave her the most intense hand-kiss she had ever received and after that, left her a blood-red rose on her windowsill every night... And now she finds herself here, in this ungodly tower with a monster – a monster she hopelessly loves and adores.

Sometimes the need to feed grows too strong and she floats down the stairs, helpless and weak, only to be met with König’s imperious form as he opens the heavy oak door and immediately catches on to what’s going on. His heavenly angel was about to disobey him; clearly, she doesn’t yet understand the danger she’s in (in truth König is getting pale even at the thought of her finding some other mentor, were Engel to leave him he would crawl into his coffin and never come out again).

So into the coffin she goes, without breakfast, and has to stay there alone until he's sharpened his knives. Only when dawn is already about to break, only after the sturdy old pine box echoes with her pitiful little whimpers, König finally joins her, gathers Engel in his arms, asks her if she has learned her lesson now, hmm? She must understand that this is for her own good: he’s just ensuring that nothing bad happens to her. After all, she's his responsibility; it was fated that they met. She’s exactly where she belongs; she has nothing to fear.

Then he feeds her himself: another taboo and a perverse act of him, and even sicker than anyone could ever imagine because König pushes them both to their limits, getting lewd pleasure out of Engel drinking from him until he's near the point of going into rigor mortis, groaning that she needs to stop (secretly wishing she wouldn’t… Not just yet…)

And König never tells her that their kind is supposed to sleep in their own coffins for a variety of reasons. He allows her to sleep in his, never even gets her her own, getting sick satisfaction from the way she curls up and clings to him like a pathetic, helpless human.

The only things he gets her are stunning, gorgeously large white dresses: pompous and flowy and frilly and so heavy she can’t possibly even dream of escaping while wearing those. The only time there’s a slightly more benevolent look in those piercing cold blue eyes is when Engel laughs and spins around in them, fresh blood on her lips, eyes outshining all the night stars...

She’s truly the most innocent, beautiful creature he has ever seen. He almost feels… what was it that mortals called it?

Ah, yes. Love.

[pigcowboys]

Hi boo(i hope that was not too cringe)! Could you pls do a percy jackson, enemies to lovers! story? Like in everyone in the Camp knows their hatred against each other but then they get send on a quest together and end up kissing each other to disguise their quest?!

I would really appreciate it!

Have a good Day!

pairing: percy jackson x gn! reader (2nd pov is used but someone does say 'chick')

summary: much to your displeasure, you find yourself on a quest with the one person you hate the most.

warning(s): BICKERING. mutual pining (they just don't know it yet.), kissing, swearing, enemies to lovers.

a/n: IT WASNT CRINGE DWW HAHA, i tried my best!! school starts for me pretty soon so im trying to write as much as i can before i have to go back.. (also im sorry abt the images i dont know whats going on with my computer.)

you hated them, everyone of them.

that wretched camp and it's obnoxious staff oh, and don't even get you started on that stupid oracle. she set you up! they all did.

gods, why of all people did it have to be him?

perseus jackson - most of the time shortened to just percy jackson, maybe even peter johnson at times. what an ass he was.

believe it or not when you first came to camp half-blood you had actually taken a liking to him. he was cute, full of energy and full of endless bravery, your exact type.

you weren't sure when it begun, your hatred for him, that is. it kind of just..started. when? not sure. your exact guess must've been that one valentine's day when he accidentally sneaked the last muffin at breakfast. yeah, that must've been it.

to be honest though, you didn't need a reason. you just did, and you weren't exactly quiet about it either. from the day you started to hate his guts all his advances to be nice to you were met with a glare or a huff. sometimes you'd just straight up walk away from him.

so, it basically didn't take him long to send you back the same glares or huffs or even the smallest mutter of 'geez, not this chick again..' everyone hoped the feud would dissipate, that the two of you would grow the fuck up and call a truce.

too bad their prayers didn't help.

infact, you were pretty sure that even if the gods themselves came down from olympus and said 'get along or die right here' you'd pick the latter in a heartbeat.

so, when you'd initially been called into chiron for some 'great news' you'd expected him to tell you that percy had finally decided to leave camp - or that you'd won the lottery. fuck, you wished that was it.

"hey, stay on your side, bucko!" you said, nudging percy to the side aggressively. "i'm not on the market, especially for you."

"can you be serious for second!" percy snapped back, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "we have to prove to chiron that we can do this." he turned back to face the front. "or...we're in for another lecture."

"i wouldn't mind, really," you grinned. "i've perfected the art of sleeping with my eyes open."

"if only you could perfect the art of silence.."

you glared at him.

the two of you were submerged underwater at the moment in one of percy's bubbles. chiron had asked of you to go to queens in order to do..something? you didn't really pay attention to chiron at the time - besides, you were thinking about drowning yourself in the nearest lake when you'd heard the percy going on the quest with you in tow. the only thing you could remember was that it was super important to not let anyone see you.

something about the appearance of two demigod children to monster being dangerous? you weren't sure why he thought the things wouldn't be able to sniff you out anyways.

the bubble wasn't even your idea to be fair. you'd suggested just taking the train, as it much easier but percy disagreed - as usual. said it would be quicker to just swim over via bubble transfer and although you wanted to disagree, you settled on the idea that the station at this time would be packed as hell.

so you bit your tongue and allowed yourself to be trapped in a bubble with percy for about a half an hour or so.

"ugh, how much longer..?" you asked, adjusting your clothes uneasily. the bubble wasn't by any means uncomfortable just..kind of warm? weirdly enough. percy didn't spare you a glance only opting to shurg his shoulder slightly as he focused on the vast ocean in front of the two of you.

you glared at him from your spot in the bubble, uncomfortably crossing your legs as you turned away from him, jumping when you realized a never before seen fish was staring into your soul from outside the bubble. it wasn't a surprise to you to see the fish, percy was the son of poseidon, you expected him to go full aquaman one day and pull up to camp half blood with a stream of wild dolphins and squids.

still, the beady little dead eyes scared the shit out of you. and in your natural knee jerk reflex, you moved back, inching into percy and bumping his shoulder. he turned to face you with a distasteful look, face contorting in confusion when he noticed the small school of fish now gathering.

your face morphed into one of uncomfort as you gazed at the tons of fish that seemed to spawn out of nowhere. "uh..can you call your friends off?"

percy seemed to share a look with the fish, a look of embarrassment flashing over his face briefly as he glared at them intensely. you looked on at the exchange in silence because, was he really talking to fishes? the fish eventually scrammed after a while and you and percy were back on your way. silence fell over the two of you before you spoke up suddenly.

"i didn't know you spoke fish.."

"drop it."

"i think we're here." percy annouced as the bubble started to drift closer to shore. were you guys there? you weren't sure at all. you were just happy to be out of that bubble - the close proximity was making you break out.

you were in fact there, somehow. and it was by then it hit you that this was a quest - a really important mission for a demigod and since it was assigned to specifically you and percy, it meant you had to deliver.

your duo walked towards the city, looking around for any suspicious looking civilians or any sign of irregular activity. it would've been an easy task to scope out the objective of the mission if it wasn't for percy's loud breathing.

seriously, you could hear him practically breathing down your neck as the two of you walked. him and his stupid big nostrils - you couldn't focus.

"mind breathing a little less loud?"

percy blinked at you. "these requests are starting to get literally concerning." his face contorted in confusion. "how the hell does one 'breathe a little less loud' ?"

"they not be percy jackson."

"that wasn't even english??"

you were about to say something else smart when a couple of people ahead caught your attention, they weren't inherently weird looking but, you got this vibe from them - that they weren't completely human. your mind raced as you looked around as nonchalantly as you could.

there were people here. to your right, 2 parents and their one hyperactive son who clawed at the ice cream in front of him with his tongue, a bright smile on his face and to your left a group of younger looking teenage girls who were chatting brightly. most likely about hair dye because their highlights were so bright they were giving you eye cancer.

you thought fast. pulling percy by his wrist as you dashed down the street, rushing into the nearest store slash tourist attraction you could as you pushed him into the corner roughly, looking behind you to see if the people had followed you.

he gave you a completely surprised look, slight annoyance forming on his face as he exhaled heavily. "is there any reason you felt like dragging me into this.." he looked around, eyes landing on a random cowboy hat that was situated on a hook in the corner of the place. "slightly..cool place?" he finished, grabbing the cowboy hat and observing it curiously.

"i saw them, well - i think i did.." you mumbled out, looking around erratically as you watched out for any signs of being followed. percy quirked an eyebrow at you.

"the IRS finally caught you orr.."

"percy, this is serious!" you exclaimed, growing slightly embarrassed when the store owner shot the two of you a look. you smiled at the owner awkwardly, ushering percy into a corner with your hand.

"look, i'm pretty sure i found the guys we were going here for." you said, still stealing glances behind you. "i saw them..just now, when were walking."

"did they follow us?" percy asked, more seriously now.

"i'm not sure," you frowned.

percy thought for a moment before speaking once more."they wouldn't do anything with all these humans here - we just have to make sure we blend in."

"and how do you suppose we do that?"

percy grinned at you, reaching over to grab another hat that was right next to the one he'd picked up earlier.

you grimaced, who's idea was it to put you two together?

"do you think we lost them?"

"nah, we definitely still need the disguises."

the two of you were situated on the street currently, attempting to look as normal as possible. though, it was pretty hard to with these stupid cowboy hats percy insisted the two of you had to wear. claimed it would be "inconspicuous" but in reality it was extremely, eye catching.

you figured he just wanted you to wear it so he could laugh behind your back about how utterly foolish you looked. it didn't help that he'd picked out the hat with the corniest design for you - and it was bedazzled.

you let of a huff of frustration. "can we switch? this one's too big on me., i'm half blind here, man."

"you'll live," percy reassured. "besides, it's better if they can't see your face."

"what's the use? they'll just sniff us out eventually."

percy shot you a look. "you're no fun."

you opened your mouth to say something when percy's face changed as he locked eyes with something behind you. you barely had time to react when he pulled you into a brutal bear hug, turning you away from whatever it was that was behind you.

your muscles tensed as your face started to burn with embarrassment. a "what the fuck, percy?" was muffled into his shirt as you felt the presence of the monsters nearing closer. your heart sank to your feet as realized how near they were really.

"whatever i do.." percy whispered in your ear. "just promise you won't be too mad."

"what're you talk-"

and then before you knew it, you'd lost your lip virginity. i mean, it wasn't the worst first kiss story you'd have to tell people. boy kissed me in order to distract the bloodthirsty monsters that were tracking us down! wow, how romantic.

in all honesty, you knew percy just did what he had to do. you knew he just had to keep you to keep your disguises up. that was probably the rest why you leaned into the kiss, hands coming up to rest on his chest as his brutal bear hug eased into more a gentle hug, his hands moving the hold your hips.

the kiss had to look real - romantic. that's why you pretend to be so into it that you let out a satisfied hum. you weren't sure if the monsters had moved on from the two of you, you weren't even sure if you were safe at all in the moment. but, it was starting to get hard to think as your mind swirled with various conflicting thoughts that stemmed from your actions at the moment.

percy broke the kiss, his eyes gazing into your curiously as he removed his hands from your hips slowly. you removed your hand from his chest, pulling away gently. your eyes searched his own for any sign of discomfort or disgust as you started to grow weary of the fact he'd just stolen your first kiss.

yet, you were surprised to find that there was none - just confusion and surprise. you tore your eyes away from him, clearing your throat. as you fixed your outfit. "i..i think i saw them go somewhere over there." you pointed at the secluded alleyway not too far from where you and percy stood. "let's go - we can get the drop on them."

percy stared at you for a moment before nodding, slightly dazed and following you towards the alleyway silently.

the ride back home - or should you say float back home was silent, as it always was. though, something different seemed to be hanging in the air this time. a feeling of awkwardness that was mostly unnatural to you and percy.

you wanted to ask about it - the kiss, why did he do it? why was that first thing he came up with? why did he lean into you slightly? why did the world seemed to stop for a second when your lips met and most of all whyyy the hell did you want it to happen again?

you stole a glance at percy. the two of you were a few feet away from each other, on opposite sides of the bubble. maybe you were going crazy or something but did percy look..good? you swore it was just because of the mixed feelings you had about him being your first but you couldn't shake the thought about how beautiful he looked in the moment.

okay, something's not right.

"do you wanna talk about it?" you blurted out suddenly, shifting positions as you leaned forward slightly. percy turned to look at you, he wasn’t annoyed nor angry, not even suicidal. he looked, enamored — and slightly caught off guard by your question.

"talk about what exactly?"

your eyebrows furrowed. "you kissed me, percy jackson." you pointed at him accusingly. "and you liked it."

percy blew a raspberry, a slightly surprised look on his face. "what makes you think i liked it?"

you paused. had you read something wrong? you thought about dropping the idea but thought against it, deciding to die on that hill. "because your hands somehow found their way onto my hips," you started. "and your lips pursed — and your heartbeat picked up little by the little the longer it lasted."

you crossed your legs, inching away from percy as you gave him a small frown. "and..you looked at me weird." percy's face was flushed as he looked at you silently from his position on the other side of the bubble.

"how did i look at you..?"

you glanced at him. "like you didn't want to drown me in the lake and leave my body for the fishes." you joked. "like..you didn't hate me."

"i don't hate you."

your head spun towards percy, your eyes widened comically. you opened your mouth to say something but the words were caught in your throat. percy analyzed you before speaking once more.

"i don't think i ever have, it's just - you're very annoying." percy sighed. "and it sucks because you're more attractive than you think you are." you stared at him in silence. your heart pounded in your chest as you gulped.

"do you like me?"

"do you like me?" percy repeated with emphasis on the me.

you laughed, inching towards percy on the other side of the bubble. "i do." you stopped in front of him, a warm smile on your face as you watched a smile break out onto his face. "i like you too." he whispered, staring at you quietly before leaning forward slightly to test the waters.

you instantly took the bait, leaning forward as well as you locked lips with percy one again. a bolt of lightning shot through you as you leaned into his touch, placing your hand on his shoulder as you climbed into his lap. percy seemed more than happy to have you there, his hands coming to rest on your hips so he could keep you steady.

you broke the kiss, hands slithering around his neck as you looked down at him with a small smile. you were about to say something when your attention was brought to the sickly sight of a line of fish outside the bubble once again. you yelped in surprise, stumbling back slightly and if it wasn't for percy's grip on you, you probably would've busted your ass.

percy looked behind him, slightly annoyed at the presence of the fish. it lingered for a bit longer before dashing off reluctantly. at which point, percy turned to you with a frown. you eyed him curiously.

"what?"

"he's going to tell everyone about the '2 demigods getting it on in the bottom of the sea'. "

[cas-spirit]

Have some of my utmv headcannons

Dreamtale is, in universe, called ‘The Tale of Emotions’. Over time, however, It got ‘Killertale’d. This upsets both twins, but there’s an infinite number of au’s with an infinite number of people. Everyone close to the twins, however, calls it the correct name.

While everyone in the multiverse went from calling it ‘The Tale of Emotions’ to ‘Dreamtale’, Ink originally called it ‘Dreamtale’, because that’s what the creators called it. He switched after realizing how upset it made Dream.

After leaving his AU, goopy 6 year old Nightmare wanted to establish himself as the scariest, most dangerous threat in the multiverse. So he followed around Error, the most dangerous threat in the multiverse. Error had a dad arc.

Ink and Error are best friends.

Error’s goal to destroy the multiverse is impossible (that’s canon, I just think it’s really cool). It’s a sunk cost fallacy, which is when you invest so much into something, you can’t stop, or else why for you waste so much?

Ink knows that too. He’ll sometimes fight Error if the au is pretty new, and because he knows their fights inspire creators. Most of the time, however, he leaves Error be. After all, who are they to intrude on Error’s story?

Most AUs fall because they’ve been forgotten. They crumble like a dry, dead leaf, which is when Core Frisk gets monsters out and into the Omega Timeline.

When a creator destroys their own AU, everyone in universe forgets that the AU existed in the first place, Gaster style. The only ones that remember are Ink and Error because they’re both connected to the creators. (For example, Fell knows he’s missing a drinking buddy, but only Ink and Error know that was Flowerfell Sans, or anything about Flowerfell in the first place)

Error and Ink are both Aroace.

The multiverse just… pops shipkids into existence. Most of the time, the parents aren’t even together. (Fr though, why are all ship kid’s origins that their parents are terrible and abusive? I thought we all liked these funky skeletons?)

Ink loves the shipkids. He views them as precious gifts from the creators and takes very good care of them. He’s almost the multiverse’s CPS. Any and all of his kids are absolutely and undeniably loved.

All the Swap universe Sanses know eachother. They take turns having a training day/movie night sleepover in the others AU’s and consider each other cousins.

Blueberry is Swap’s kid.

The Fell brothers are friends with Dust and Horror. They want to fight Horrortale Undyne so bad. They had to be stopped multiple times.

Classic, Red, Swap, and Horror because a friend group after Swap and Horror had began fighting with/for Dream and Nightmare. It was awkward at first, but Swap was determined to make Horror his friend.

Ink didn’t really have a house until he met Dream. When the 6 year old broke out of stone, Ink brought him to his Dad’s house for a few days while he made a home in the doodleshpere for them. Ink had his first father arc of many.

Geno, Error, Fatal Error, and Fresh are siblings.

Geno and Dream friendship my beloved.

Geno has been asked to babysit both Dream and Nightmare at the same time before. It was always very awkward, but no fights broke out (thankfully).

Outer is the youngest Sans. (In the og Undertale, they say all kids wear stripes, and Outertale Sans does wear stripes.) He’s still an adult, and the big brother, he’s just a little bit younger than most other Sanses.

Whether or not an AU has the events of Undertale Yellow is it’s past is entirely random. Most things that happen before Frisk falls down are.

Ink has the ability to look at other multiverses. He just dislikes doing it because other Ink’s unsettle him a bit. He did once, however, because Dream asked him if he and his brother were destined to fight in every universe. Ink chose not to answer.

Despite their being an infinite number of Underswaps, everyone knows the same Swap. Blueberry has, like, a hundred babysitters.

There are a few bittybones aus. Ink has a very firm stance that no one touches them because so many creators go into bitty aus/interact directly with them.

Every story that involves the outcodes on a non multiverse scale is its own AU within the multiverse. (For example, Seabound Souls is it’s own AU, as it’s not on a multiversal scale)

The end of the multiverse is kind of like far lands in Minecraft. It’s a wall with many large, traversable holes in it. The reason people don’t tend to go into other multiverses is just how big of a distance any AU is to the multiverse boarder. If someone did manage to go that distance, however, nothing really stops them from going into another multiverse.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 3

Summary: Drama continues at camp, following almost directly along with S1 E3

Relationship: Daryl & Reader, Shane x Reader

first warning of this multi-chapter series: Age gap relationship (not Daryl & fmc)

other notes: By now if you're still reading this, you've probably noticed I'm a heavy dialogue writer. I love dialogue. That's just my style and I don't plan on changing it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Lmk your thoughts :)

The guys at camp are packing up the car, getting ready to head into Atlanta. Glancing over your shoulder, you catch the women at camp staring at you from the RV. Huffing, you turn back to Daryl. "What's the deal with everyone here?" you ask.

Daryl shakes his head, mumbling that he doesn’t care. You shift your gaze to the firepit, absently digging your boot into the dirt.

After spending a few hours around camp, it’s clear to you who’s close, who’s just friends, and who’s on the outskirts. You glance up and spot Carol sitting with her husband and daughter. Her husband gives you the creeps—something about the way he looked at you earlier. Carol, though, seemed sweet, even if she was quiet. You figure in time, she might open up to you. The sisters, Andrea and Amy, were fine, but Amy’s remark about Merle left a bad taste in your mouth. You couldn’t really blame her, though. Merle was a jackass, the way he spoke to people was downright unbearable at times. But you and Daryl knew a different side of him, as much as Merle let anyone know him. He wasn’t always like that. As a kid, he’d been funny, even sweet. But their father ruined him. Then, Merle left, abandoning you and Daryl to face that monster on your own. Your mom was so absent even when she was in your childhood home, so you found sanctuary in the Dixon house. Or maybe it was just a sanctuary wherever Daryl was. 

The person at camp you couldn’t quite decipher was the woman you found out was Rick’s wife. You were never really around Shane’s friends or spent much time around anyone he knew when you two were together. You might have seen a photo of Lori somewhere with their son Carl, but you never met them. She was…distant. Friendly to your face but short and tense from the few minutes of chatting with them while things got packed up. 

Rick calls out to Daryl, causing you to get up and brush off your pants, following him over to the van.

“You’re stayin here,” Shane says as you approach.

“Like hell I am,” you shoot back, crossing your arms. “Merle’s as much my family as he is Daryl’s.”

“You are not leaving this camp for a douche bag like Merle Dixon,” he growls at you, pointing at Daryl with an accusatory finger. 

“You better choose yer words more wisely,” Daryl snaps.

“No, I did. Douchebag is what I meant,” Shane retorts.

You can’t help but feel a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, though you quickly stifle it.

Daryl grunts. “I don’t want ‘er outta my sight again, Walsh.” His voice is rough, full of warning.

“Oh yeah, out of your sight, Dixon. When’s the last time you saw her anyway? How many years has it been? When she left for college?” he spits.

Daryl bristles, charging at Shane with his fists clenched. You quickly step between them, holding your hands up.

“Daryl, please,” you say softly, locking eyes with him. “It’s fine. I’ll stay. It’s not a big deal.”

But you’re lying—to Daryl and to yourself. The last thing you wanted was to be left behind. It had been so long since you’d seen Daryl, since you were partners in crime. Truth be told, you didn’t want him out of your sight either. But you knew going to Atlanta was dangerous. You weren’t good with a gun, and you’d only hold them back if things went sideways.

Rick approaches as the others start gathering to leave. You turn away from Daryl, facing Shane.

“I’ll stay. But you,” you jab your finger in Shane’s chest, “you’ve got some explaining to do.”

As the group heads out, you feel the weight of unresolved tension settling over camp. Shane is clearly frustrated with Rick taking such a big part part of the group into Atlanta, while Daryl is with them, fuming about something—whether it’s you, Shane, or just the world at large, you can’t tell.

“Them walkers are gettin closer and closer to camp,” Shane sighs, running his hands over his face.

“Walkers?” you ask, in stride with him. 

“That’s what we’ve been callin’ ‘em,” he says, not looking at you, his tone gruff. He stops walking for a moment, hands on his hips, staring out into the distance. Then, almost reluctantly, he glances back at you. "Alright, spit it out."

You blink, caught off guard. “Spit what out?”

“How’d you end up here? With Daryl?” you demand, your frustration bubbling over. “No one’s telling me anything. I’m just some redneck girl who walked out of the woods with an angry Daryl Dixon, and everyone’s acting like that’s all I am.”

Shane looks at you, then away, clearly uncomfortable. “Can we do this later?” he mumbles, his eyes already darting elsewhere.

Before you can press him, a young voice cuts through the tension. “Shane! Show me how to find the frogs!” You both turn to see Rick’s son, Carl, wiping his eyes as he comes out of his tent. His mother stands in the doorway, her own eyes red and puffy.

Shane’s expression softens as he looks at Carl. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth before he looks back at you. “I’ve got a date with some frogs,” he says, walking away without waiting for a response.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・❥・・❥・・❥・

x flashback x

Your first date with Officer Shane was the most romantic date you’d ever been on. Not that he had much competition—most of your dates had been with high school boys taking you to the lake, their grubby hands creeping under your shirt after a couple of beers. Or they always ended up fleeing once they realized your best friend was Daryl Dixon, who was always nearly in Merle's shadow back then. But Shane was different. He picked you up at 8 p.m. on a Saturday, that shy smile playing on his lips. You could’ve sworn there was a twinkle in his eye when he looked at you. His truck was the cleanest, shiniest vehicle you’d ever stepped foot in, and the new car smell hit you the moment you slid into the passenger seat. Shane leaned over, gently grabbed your hand, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his eyes glancing up at you.

“I’m happy you came out tonight,” he said, his voice low and gravelly.

You blushed, shrugging, “Got nothin’ better goin’ on.”

He chuckled, putting the truck in reverse. “I’m sure you and Dixon would’ve gotten up to some kinda trouble.” You smiled at the thought as he backed out of the driveway of your childhood trailer home.

Shane drove you into the heart of Georgia farmland, where the night was quiet, the air crisp, and the sky clear. The truck eventually pulled off the road into an open field, and you glanced over at him, curious. He just smiled, that broad, confident grin of his, and stepped out. You watched him round the front of the truck, opening your door with an old-fashioned charm no boy had ever shown you before. He extended his hand, and you slid out of the passenger seat, your hand in his, warmth spreading up your arm from his firm grip.

Okay, a hot gentleman, you thought, fighting back a grin.

He didn’t let go of your hand as he led you around to the back of the truck. Your steps faltered when you saw what he’d set up. A wide smile spread across your face. The truck bed was transformed—a soft blanket laid out, pillows scattered around, snacks arranged neatly, and a bottle of wine nestled in a basket. Two glasses sat nearby, everything perfectly strapped down with bungee cords. You turned back to Shane, your heart swelling at the thoughtfulness of it all.

He was watching you, his warm gaze never leaving your face, his hand still holding yours.

“What do you think?” he asked softly, his voice almost a whisper.

“I love it,” you whispered back, beaming up at him.

An hour later, you found yourself sitting between Shane’s legs, leaning against the back of the truck. His arm rested around you, his fingers absently stroking your hair while his other hand held a glass of wine. The night was peaceful, the air cool, and the sky scattered with stars.

“What’s your job like?” you asked with a playful smile, looking up at him.

He chuckled. “My job?” He paused for dramatic effect. “I’m the deputy for King County State Police, little lady.”

You laughed, nudging him gently. “So what’s it like?”

He thought for a moment, taking a sip of the deep red wine. “A lot of it is pretty boring,” he admitted. “The serious stuff? It’s just about good judgment—keeping people safe.”

“I can’t wait to get a real job. A career ,” you sighed, staring up at the sky.

Shane glanced down at you, curiosity in his eyes. “What’s your plan?”

You thought about it, your mind wandering past the obvious desire to get out of this town. When you really pictured your life in the next few years, it was more than just leaving.

“I want to help people,” you said quietly, feeling the weight of those words as they hung in the air. Shane’s hand stilled in your hair, and you felt his gaze on you, waiting for you to continue. You took a deep breath. “I’d love to be a part of the Red Cross. Be sent out to disasters, help those who need it the most. But first, I want to go to college… if I can.”

“You can,” he said softly. “You will.”

You leaned your head back against his chest, looking up at the stars, then back at him. The sky was lit with a million specks of light, vibrant colors streaking through the black night. It took your breath away.

“So beautiful,” you breathed out, marveling at the sight.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his eyes locked on you instead of the sky.

Before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours.

・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・❥・・❥・・❥・

x flash forward x

You walk down to the quarry, the crystal blue water glimmering under the sunlight. Thoughts of Daryl leaving angrily in the van flash through your mind—he barely looked at you today. Something was different. The last time you’d seen him, things hadn’t exactly been good between you two. Back when the world was still normal, you hadn’t spoken for months, maybe longer. But even then, Daryl would never turn his back on you. Today, though, it was like you were just some nobody he found wandering in the woods.

The women are gathered by the water, washing boards in hand, while Shane and Carl splash around near the rocks, laughing. The women talk about the things they miss from before—cars, coffee makers…

“Hey,” you greet quietly, stepping behind them.

Carol glances up with a warm smile. “Hey, come join us,” she says, waving you over. Jaqui, a slender woman with short black hair, dark skin, and kind eyes, scoots over to make room between her and Amy. Carol hands you an extra wash basin and board, her smile soft but welcoming.

You sit quietly with them as they chat, lost in their conversation. Your eyes keep drifting over to Shane, and every once in a while, you catch him glancing back at you, his expression unreadable. You watch as Lori also makes her way down the hill into the quarry, hands on her hips, visibly annoyed. You shake your head, but your ears prick at the sound of the women giggling around you.

“I miss my vibrator,” Andrea says, breaking the quiet. Laughter erupts from the group, and Carol looks around sheepishly. “Me too,” she admits, and the laughter intensifies. You all dissolve into giggles.

Then, heavy footsteps approach from behind, and Ed’s voice cuts through the laughter. “What’s so funny?” he asks, his tone laced with irritation.

“Just swappin’ war stories, Ed,” Andrea replies smoothly, her eyes flicking to yours before returning to her washing. You sigh inwardly—Ed’s not exactly the company you were hoping for. You glance back over to Shane, who’s now deep in a hushed, heated conversation with Lori. She’s pushing at him, clearly angry about something. Your brow furrows. What’s going on between them? You’d think they’d be in better spirits, now that Rick’s back, not to mention Shane’s girlfriend standing right here.

Shane watches Lori turn and head back up the hill, and you watch him, your thoughts spinning. The voices of the women around you escalate, drawing your attention back to them as they crowd around Carol, now standing. Ed’s mood has shifted from irritation to outright anger. He’s yelling something about "prodding the bull," and before you know it, he slams his fist into Carol’s face.

You lunge forward, catching Carol as she crumples into your arms. Shock surges through you, but before you can react, Shane is suddenly there, ripping Ed away from her. His fists crash into Ed’s face, over and over, each punch landing with a sickening thud.

“Shane, please! Shane!” you shout, grabbing his shoulders. He hesitates, pulling back, his breath ragged as he wipes his bloodied knuckles across his sweat-soaked forehead.

You stumble back, wide-eyed and shaken. Ed’s moans mix with Carol’s sobs, the air thick with tension and fear.

[ghostieyanyan]

Is it ok if I can ask for a yandere Rollo Flamme? I like the idea of Rollo because he’s already based off a yandere villain so it makes sense. And I think Rolli would like to get close to Yuu cuz they don’t have any magic so they’re seen as ‘pure’ in Rollo’s eyes. Maybe Rollo can be seen trying hard to control his urges at the fireplace or he captured MC and tried to burn them at the stake like in the movie? Your choice.

hehehe... why not just add salt to injure? what if mc has pyrophobia, a fear of fire?

~Let the fire purify you~

Yan!Rollo x Pyrophobia!Mc

Warnings: Fire, burning, kidnapping, anxiety attack, chains, gag, breakdown,

~~~

Rollo hated magic... with a passion. A passion that burned so bright that hurricanes, rainstorms, floods, and tsunami together couldn't extinguish this flame of pure hatred.

How does no one sees the danger of magic? How many lives have to be taken in the hand of magic for people to understand this is a problem? He guesses that its one of humanities sin, playing dumb, playing ignorant, until it becomes someone they care about that gets hurt. its always like that... why could people just see things through his lenses BEFORE someone got hurt...

But for now, he just has to do gods work for everyone else, until they see things his ways...

He had a plan. a plan that will solve this problem before it could get worst. The plan to get rid of magic, from one of the most powerful mages in twisted wonderland, to the student "prodigies" of that sick, sinful school, to the townsfolks of Fleur city, to every inch of Twisted wonderland.

With this crazy plan, he'll make, no, he'll force everyone to see how he sees life should be. he didnt care on who got hurt-

until-

he met Night Raven College's gem in the rock, their Perfect. When all the students were introducing themselves, when it was your turn. He swore the world stopped and he would have swore on his life that he saw wings and a halo on you. You looked, spoke, and acted like an angel. you even allow these sinful... beasts... breathe the same air as you. then you have an ACTUAL beast as a familiar. don't tell grim that.

your heart and soul must be made out of pure gold. he has to protect it at all cost. he will use his own body to shield you from magical blast and then some to keep your purity in tact. he will move mountains and redivert lakes, rivers, seas, and oceans for you. Rollo Flamme will make you into his deity that he worships.

~

All the students decided to split into groups and explore Fleur City, after they got changed.

to say Rollo thought you looked breathe taking in your glorious masquerade outfit was an understatement. he was about to come up to you and compliment you, maybe even starting small talk with you but a certain lizard decided to be the first to do so...

Of course that monster would be charmed by an angel like you. Evil loves to tempt with good.

no matter, he'll just have to see you another time but if he gets too busy..? He'll make time for you.

~

Rollo lead you into his office, you didn't mind too much because he was telling you all about the school's history and art. it is a really pretty school, it gives very romantic feelings.

when you finally made it into his office, you froze at the doorway at seeing the fire place. Rollo quickly notices and puts out the flame with a very helpful near by bucket. You were grateful that Rollo was very accommodating to your fears.

you thanked him and sat down across from him while Rollo sat in his chair.

"I'm very sorry for asking you to meet me at this ungodly hour but i just needed your input on something and if i didn't ask you, i would have had a sleepless night tossing and turning." Rollo said as he got everything on his desk organized.

"hehe, its alright. I just happen to have a restless night myself.. but i don't mind the company."

"oh my that sounds awful. what seems to be troubling you?"

"w-well.."

It was really hard to tell someone you only just recently met that you had a "bad feeling" about something and how so far, in twisted wonderland, its always comes true...

"well.. i think... maybe, its just the 'sleeping at a new place' feeling and I'm just not getting use to it. but I'm sure its fine. heh.."

"hmm.."

Rollo seemed satisfied with that answer and continues, by leaning towards you on the desk.

"i know i asked you about this before, but id like to discuss it with you more in depth... hmm?"

since Rollo put out the fire place, there was only a small lamp on the desk to shine light in the room. you kind of wished that the fire place was still lit... cause everything in this scenario was telling you to run and never look back..

"o-okay..? what would you like to know..?"

Rollo smiled and leaned back into his chair.

"as a magicless student in a full school of magical.. mages, aren't you scared they might... turn and hurt you..?"

the way he worded that made you feel more unnerved.. you trusted your friends in Night Raven College. Even the ones that did try to hurt you, they still came to your defense and help and protected you when you needed them.. you trusted them with your life and having this man tell you "you shouldn't because they can use magic" was... laughable...

"no.. because they've earn my trust and I've earn theirs..!"

"Earned..?"

Rollo's face darkened as you stood up from the chair you were sitting in.

"I'm sorry Rollo. Thank you for your hospitality but i have to go."

you start walking to the door but stopped.

"with however you feel about magic, i wont sit down and let you disrespect them just because they possess a special ability and i don't. It doesn't make them less of a person. Magic or no magic."

you walked to the door but before you could even touch the doorknob, you feel a body press against your back, pinning you against the door. you couldn't even move, much less move the door.

"I'm sorry my sweet angel~... i guess.. I'll just have to show you myself then~"

you see a quick purple blur and then tightness around your throat. Rollo was using his signature purple and gold handkerchief to strangle you! you tried to struggle. you tired to jab your elbow into his chest but his uniform was too thick for it to do any good.

You started to feel light headed then everything you saw was slowly turning black. the last thing you saw was Rollo, and the insanity in his eyes.

~

you had so many questions...

why you? was it because you don't have magic so you were "easy"? aren't there other people in twisted wonderland without magic? you just happened to go to a school "for" magic users so of course you'll see it a lot.

what's so bad about magic? ya it almost killed you here and there but it also almost killed either the user or other people around you.. but afterwards everything would have been fine. Plus you didn't blame the magic for those situations. you couldn't even say you blamed the user. some deserved the blame.. but not everyone..

how did you get here..? probably from your big mouth, you should have been smart when you were talking to Rollo. he was already giving you weird vibes and you just had to make it worst

you had more questions but you knew none of them would get answered..

you started to slowly open your eyes..

where are you..? what's this sound..? why cant you move..?

you slowly looked around, you remember this place... Rollo showed you, with your friends. the big bell, the bell of Solace. you noticed that you were alone though..

you looked around some more, you looked out from where you sat on the floor. it was dark out but with an orange hue... was the sun rising..? what's going on?

you went to take a step, to look out but something stopped you. a cold hand..? no..? a chain?!

if you weren't fully awake then, now you are! the chain was short, at least 2 feet long from the floor, it was attached to both your ankles. you could only go so far out.

what happened?! what's going on?!?

you started breathing heavily, tears started to form. you felt so confused, so lost. someone, anyone, please hel-

"oh my dear! you're awake."

your blood became ice, you looked up to see an uncomfortably happy Rollo.. he had a basket of breads and fruits.

"i was so worried that you'll never wake up. I'm very happy you did~"

with a heavy chest, you spoke.

"what's going on, Rollo!? Why are we here? why am i-?"

"oh within time my dear angel~ we just have to wait for those flowers to do their miracles. in the meantime, eat. you've been sleeping for a while and-"

"flowers..? what are you-...? Rollo...."

you took a deep breathe to try to settle your nerves.

"Please, Rollo... I'm scared. please tell me what's going on."

he looks at you and sighed, placing the basket down on a near by table. He then walked over to you and sat beside you, motioning you to come closer to him.

You did. you don't really have a choice right now..

"I'm making our perfect little world my love~ our paradise~"

you looked at the man like he was crazy. he was, at this point. But he continues.

"the Crimson flowers, the one that looks like fire, the flowers i shown you when you toured the city, they have the ability to take a mage's magic until they are just magicless people.. like you."

you stared at him but he kept smiling.

"magicless.. like me..?"

"yes my dear, then everyone in this world would have to understand magic is like a poisonous weed that has to be pulled out. or it'll spread to the other crops."

you just stared. you couldn't bare to keep looking at him so you turned to look at anything else..

magicless like you... no.. this isn't right. this cant happened!

Rollo thought the conversation was over and sat up to get the basket.

"Before this started, i made sure to get some food. i thought you'll be hungry so-"

"...mon...ster..."

Rollo froze. he was facing the backet and didn't turn around.

"excuse me..?"

you stood up, leaning against the wall, as best as you could. You knew your big mouth was gonna put you in a tough situation again but- what were you suppose to do?

"you, Rollo Flamme, are a monster."

he slowly turned to you, his eyes screamed murder. even if your body is shaking, from fear, from anxiety, from anger, maybe all of them at once's, but you kept your eye contact with Rollo.

You knew a comment like that will hurt him. you knew you couldn't physically harm him but you just wanted to hurt him like he planned to do the same to everyone you cared for..

the silence was deafening.

Rollo took some slow steps to you and leaned down to your level.

"take. that. back."

"no. cause i didn't say anything wrong.."

you hear Rollo take a deep breath and he quickly snaked his hand to grab the nape of your neck. you let out a gasp, from the sudden movement. he straighten his posture and brought you to his eye level.

"it's seems that those... mages.. have filled you with their poison. I'll just have to purify you myself. don't say i didn't warn you, my angel.."

he dragged you to a window and made you look outside. the entire city was filled with those flowers but... the looks of those flowers... made it look like you were in the middle of a raging firestorm. you felt your stomach drop. you felt cold shivers, and you didn't even realized that tears were falling. when you looked more, you noticed that the "fire" was slowly climbing the tower you were in.

you were about to let out a blood curdling scream but you were stopped by Rollo tying that purple handkerchief into a makeshift gag for you.

After that, he threw you, face down into the ground. Your body was shivering from fear so intensely, to the point that it feels like you lost complete control over your body. you couldn't even fight back when Rollo tied your hands together.

"i, really, am sorry for this my sweet angel~ but i have to get rid of the poison that those mages put in you... you have to be purified."

Rollo walked off and came back holding a fireplace poker. it was glowing red and you could see smoke coming off of it. where he got that, you didn't know but your attempt to get away from him was met with a wall against your back.

you felt your head spin, you were trembling to no return, the hot tears wouldn't stop, and the makeshift gag he put on you was now soak with tears, saliva, and snot.

Rollo kept walking towards you, in an agonizing slow pace.

"don't worry, my angel love~ after this, all will be forgiven~"

when he went to grab your face, he-

"MC!!"

those are.. familiar voices.. you know those voices..

"tch.. i suppose your punishment will have to wait my love. apparently, ill have to finish these pesky mages off myself."

[thaliagracesgf]

i hail a cab with a goat, and make some questionable decisions at a party

next

author’s note: i want to make it, like, really, really, clear that this is not a fic glorifying sa or being a victim. what the reader goes through here is a horrible experience, one that’s happened to me and countless other women (and other people!!). this fic is for anyone who, in the words of rachel sennot in bottoms, has been “gray-area-d,” and felt completely lost afterwards, not knowing how to feel or what to think. this is one example of how you deserved to have been treated, and i’m sorry if this or something similar wasn’t your experience. 

content warnings: sexual assault (not graphic and not by luke! r is sort of tied down and has their shorts undone), violence (luke is not happy about this situation), alcohol (r is drunk), talking about it afterwards?, talking about monsters (on a regular pjo level), swearing. 

word count: 6.6k. i had a lot to say. so sorry.

this is the first fic i have written in a while, i hope you enjoy it!

⭑

seven a.m. in the camp half-blood dining pavilion saw the same faces every morning. you, silena beauregard, clarisse larue, and annabeth chase. your little group of friends spanned six years, at seventeen, fourteen, thirteen, and eleven, and your best friend, who had been off at college all year, made it eight. 

you didn’t remember becoming friends with silena and clarisse, although you figured hannah, your best friend and silena’s older half-sister, must have introduced you, and clarisse came along with her. 

you had met annabeth and hannah when you were just thirteen, when you had followed a friend to connecticut in the middle of pre-algebra. 

“do you understand any of this?” you whispered to grover. he gave you a look as if he had never seen a fraction before last week, and you sighed. your teacher, a kind old woman named ms. lucy, gave you a look. when she gave the class a new problem to work through, she came and knelt by your desk, looking over your shoulder at what you had managed so far. which was a whole lot of nothing, unless you included a sketch of grover that would make picasso proud. you shrunk sheepishly in your chair. 

you looked to your right, as if trying to see how bad it really was compared to your model, but he was gone. you turned back to ms. lucy. 

“did you see grover leave?” 

“hmm?”

“grover. did he go to the bathroom?”

“i assume so, dear. if you convert the decimal—" but grover’s things were gone. you felt terrible. you knew you were a terrible student, and ms. lucy was so kind to you anyways, but it wasn’t like grover to walk out of class like that. he was terrified of authority.

“i have to go,” you mumbled to ms. lucy, throwing your things in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “stomachache.” 

she looked genuinely concerned. “would you like me to let the nurses know you’re coming?”

“no… no. that’s okay.” and you ran out the door. 

it wasn’t too hard to find grover. he was sitting in an empty classroom just a few doors down, but what was weirder was that he was watching a video on the projector. weirder still, he was talking to it. you knew it was rude to eavesdrop. it didn’t stop you from doing it. 

“chiron, i can’t just leave. she’s here, and she’s in danger. she needs a protector. anything could come for her at any moment—" was he talking about you? 

a deep voice over the projector, whose face you could hardly make out through the low-quality image, answered: “i will inform her mother and she will go home. she will stay there until we can send gleeson to collect her and—"

“why can’t you send gleeson for these kids?” 

“he’s too far, it would take him a day at least to reach them. i already told you, this was a request from hermes himself. he wants his son and his friends collected as soon as possible, and—" 

who the hell was gleeson? and hermes… who names their kid after a greek god? at least choose one with a better name than hermes. it sounded like a disease. your mother had named your brother after some greek hero, but he didn’t go by it. and at least it was, like, a human name. 

“he’s the god of travelers.” you were starting to worry that grover might be on drugs. what on earth had they put in those enchiladas at lunch? “can’t he get him, like, a car? a day could be too long for—"

“grover.” the voice boomed. that shut him up. “you will go. you will escort the son of hermes, the daughter of athena, and the daughter of zeus to camp, and then you may return to the city. this is not up for discussion.” you were really starting to think that the booming voice might have been two booming voices, but the door was closed and the audio was already crackly, so you decided it didn’t really matter. 

you heard grover’s voice say, “alright,” defeated and almost mournful, and then the message cut off. your eyes widened as you realized that grover would probably step outside any second, and you would have no excuse as to what you were doing with your ear to the wall. you turned slowly, and winced as your shoe squeaked on the linoleum floor. you started speedwalking. no sense in trying to hide anymore, you were just interested in getting as far away as possible before-

“oh, gods.” grover’s voice echoed between cinder block walls and metal lockers. “how much did you hear?”

you turned, your fingers nervously twisting the straps of your backpack. “i mean. not everything. just. you know.”

“almost everything?”

“yeah.”

“this is not good. this is really not good.” grover wasn’t talking to you anymore. he was pacing the short ways of the corridor, head in his hands, muttering to himself. “my first mission and i’ve already messed it up completely.” 

“how could you have messed it up completely? you haven’t even met these kids yet.”

“oh, gods,” grover groaned.

“woah, dude. are you like, hindu or something?”

“what?”

“you said gods. plural. i read this book—"

“okay,” grover interrupted. “you need to go home.” 

“okay. that was rude. also, it’s like the middle of the day. my mom’s at work and my stepdad will kill me if i come home early.”

“your stepfather. perfect. just climb in the back window of your room, and when your mom gets home, tell her that chiron says you need to go to camp immediately.”

“what? what the hell are you talking about? who— is that who you were talking to on the phone?”

“what?”

“the phone call. the one you were mad at me for overhearing…”

“okay. first of all, that was not overhearing, that was eavesdropping. second of all, i’m not mad. this just complicates things slightly. third of all—"

“dude, you need to—" grover glared at me, and i shut up. 

“third of all,” he repeated, “that wasn’t a phone call. it was an iris message.”

“a what?”

“nevermind. not important. ask about it at camp.”

“why do you keep talking about a camp? i haven’t been to camp since music camp in second grade, and they don’t want me back. i was really, really, bad at the recorder.”

“you played the recorder?” grover looked suddenly very interested. “nevermind. you need to go home.”

“dude. i’m telling you, i. can’t.” 

“you have to—"

“take me to connecticut,” you suggested. 

“what?”

“isn’t that where you’re running off to?”

“you can’t come to connecticut with me—"

“why not? you seemed pretty adamant on the phone—"

“iris message”

“that you needed to be with ‘her’. based on how insanely you have freaked out, i’m guessing that was me. so take me with you.”

“i know you have no idea what is going on right now—"

“thank you for finally acknowledging that important part of this conversation.”

“- but taking you to connecticut would be an astronomically bad idea. like i-would-get-fired kind of bad idea.”

“you’re twelve. how on earth would you get fired? child labor laws are—"

“i’m nineteen.” 

you laughed at that one. “yeah, sure.” 

grover rolled his eyes. “look, i really, really, wish i could explain more, but i need to go. and i really, really need you to go home.”

“ok.”

“like really, really need you to listen—" he paused. “okay? great!”

“if it means that much to you, i’ll go home.” grover sighed with relief. 

he was eating his words. and a tin can he had picked up off the street. you had followed him out of the building, watched him call a cab, and then, at the last second, jumped in after him, slammed the door, and told the driver to drive before grover could figure out what was going on. 

after your initial panic, when you realized you were hurtling up fifth avenue at three-hundred miles per hour with three old ladies behind the wheel, you had straightened yourself out, and made grover explain everything. he had, reluctantly, when he came to terms with the fact that you were in too deep to back out now.  

he explained camp, the greek (not hindu) gods, and the ladies in the front (who had one eye between them) were very helpful about filling in the details. so, so many details. he explained that he didn’t know who your parent was, just that you were powerful, and that he was planning on asking your mom before everything went up in flames.  

he explained that he was going to connecticut to escort three (now four) demigods to camp half-blood, and that they would likely be tailed by monsters the entire way back. four demigods as powerful as you, and one forbidden child — a child of zeus, poseidon, or hades, as he had mentioned — would attract a lot of attention. 

and you did. it took you a month to get to camp after you found thalia, luke, and annabeth, constantly being thrown off course by monsters, over which you got to know them better than any friends you’d had in your life (with the exception of maybe grover and your little brother). your mother was worried sick, but you iris-messaged her (grover finally got through on that one) every so often, letting her know you were okay. she was surprisingly understanding about camp. she apologized that she hadn’t been the one to take you herself, and that she had been forced to hide the truth from you for so long. the calls always ended though, when she tried to tell you who your father was. the water would shut off suddenly, the rainbow disappearing along with your mother, so you learned to avoid the topic if you wanted to continue talking. 

when thalia died, you were in shock. you sat at the edge of long island sound at camp for three days, staring into the ocean. you didn’t speak, even when you were claimed, as you sat, by your father, poseidon, and shuffled your things from the hermes cabin into cabin three. it was just another loss — you could no longer sleep in the bed next to luke’s. there were no familiar faces in cabin three — no faces at all. you were completely alone. 

eventually, an older aphrodite girl came by the cabin. she introduced herself as hannah, and she showed you around camp, forced you to sit with her and her siblings at dinner, dealing with chiron and mr. d’s disgruntlement herself, and at the campfire. she dragged you to the center of the amphitheater, dancing slowly at first, and then faster, until you were laughing and finding luke and annabeth in the crowd and dragging them to dance as well. 

you missed hannah so much. she wasn’t that far, a first year at barnard this fall, where you would hopefully be in a couple of years. you weren’t ready for college yet, you thought, so you would take a gap year (though you hadn’t been in school for years) and stay at camp, while chiron would help you convince the admissions committee (using the mist) that you had a perfect gpa, excellent extracurricular activities, and a stellar recommendation letter from a highly admired ancient greek scholar by the name of professor c. brunner.  

sitting at breakfast with you was probably miserable, you could admit. you were counting down the days until hannah came back, and your friends were definitely tired of it. but for some reason, this morning silena was practically jumping up and down with something. 

“will you stop?” you asked. “you’re shaking the entire table.” 

“i can’t, i’m sorry.” she seemed sincere in her apology. “i just— oh, you’ll see.”

you didn’t see, in fact, as someone jumped out from behind you and wrapped their arms around your head, their sweatshirt covering your eyes. “who—" you started, before you got a whiff of lavender-vanilla perfume and jumped up from the table. 

hannah. you shrieked, probably waking up half the camp. you spun around and tackled her to the ground, hugging her so tightly you would probably cut off her circulation. 

she pushed you off, laughing, and got to her feet. “it’s good to see you too, babe. what’s up with all of you? you never call, i feel like i’ve been completely cut off.” (you had iris-messaged her last week for five hours). 

“your sister is still absolutely obsessed with beckendorf,” you said, sitting down.

“hey!” silena protested.

“but of course he has no idea that he likes her.” silena turned pink. “no one here is good enough for annabeth, obviously—"

“i never said that, clarisse doesn’t let any boys near me.” you stick your tongue out at her. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” clarisse said, feigning obliviousness. “you hang out with luke all the time.”

“he’s always hanging out with that new kid.” she grumbled. “or—"

“speaking of, clarisse definitely thinks this hermes boy is so cute— you haven’t met him, he got here a few months ago, but his name is chris, and i think they would be so cute together. she’s out of everyone’s league, obviously, but if anyone would be good for her—" 

“gods, you would think you’re the aphrodite kid, listening to you.” hannah smiled. she stole a bite of your french toast. 

“i’m just excited to see you,” you said, laying your head on her shoulder. silena and clarisse smirked. 

“she’s leaving somebody out here,” silena said, smiling. 

“i know, it’s weird, she never shuts up about him otherwise,” clarisse added, narrowing her eyes at you teasingly. 

“oh, who could you possibly be talking about?” hannah twirled a piece of hair. she hasn’t even been here, but one doesn’t forget their best friend’s crush of four years in a few months. 

“i do not,” you protested meekly. 

“you knew who we were talking about, though” 

“i spend a lot of time with him, that’s all. there would be a gaping hole if i told you about my day and didn’t bring him up.”

“would you stop pretending as if you aren’t in love with each other, please?” annabeth interrupted. “you’re worse than them, at least they can admit it.” she gestured at clarisse and silena. 

“i am not in love with him, annabeth.”

“you’re always starting at him.”

“i’m in conversation.”

“with your eyes. that is literally textbook romance.” 

“i could so admit if i was into him,” you say, cutting her off. “i admit things like that all the time. i told you i thought jack was cute. you know that kid from demeter?”

“we all know you made that up,” annabeth said, crossing her arms over her chest. silena gave her a light push. 

“don’t be so quick to accuse, annie.” only you and silena ever called her that. “i don’t think she made it up. i just don’t think she’s as into him as she is into him.”

“would you drop it, about luke, please?”

“hey, you said his name, not me,” silena smiled. “but sure. i don’t believe that you’re not into him, but i’ll drop it if you can prove that he isn’t into you.”

your heart sank. you weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt nauseous at the thought. hannah’s hand rested on your knee, as if she could sense it. 

“how am i supposed to do that? i can’t read minds.” 

“hook up with jack at the campfire.”

“what?”

“flirt with him! you were just talking the other day about how you’re eighteen and you haven’t even had sex yet.” hannah covered annabeth’s ears, to which she shoved her off and glared. “jack’s, like, really hot. i saw you staring the other day.”

“when luke wasn’t around,” annabeth added, one eyebrow raised.

“you want me to have sex with jack?” 

“i’m not saying that. just flirt with him. see what happens. we’ll— she gestured between herself, clarisse, annabeth and hannah— see how luke is doing.” 

“okay, he isn’t going to be doing anything,” you said. “i don’t see what this accomplishes.” but even as you were saying it, your mind betrayed you. you thought for a second and conjured an image of strong arms holding you, soft lips kissing yours with the bonfire light in the background. maybe you were near the beach.

“we’ll see,” silena smiled. 

you didn’t want to go all the way, or anything. you knew that. but… jack was really hot. and sweet. he was always catching little kids falling off of obstacle courses with soft bushes, and growing them flower crowns. it couldn’t hurt to talk to him, see what happened. maybe he’d ask you out, or something. bring you flowers on a date. and you guessed you wouldn’t mind making out with him. 

the campfire roared in the middle of the amphitheater. the only people there were the older campers, and some counselors trickling back in from tucking kids into bed. you had helped luke with the hermes cabin, because he had so many kids to take care of, and you had none. 

you pulled the covers over katie, a girl a little younger than annabeth, who had gotten to camp a few months ago. she was still unclaimed, but with the way she spent all day in the strawberry fields, and the plants tended to shoot up around her, you were fairly sure where she belonged. 

you kissed the top of her head, and stood up, looking around the dark cabin for luke, seeing him kneeling beside a little boy, probably about the same age as katie. the boy sounded like he was crying. 

 “hey, connor,” luke whispered, rubbing circles on the kid’s back. “it’s okay. it’s okay. i get them too.” you realized that the boy must have been afraid to fall asleep. “travis is right above you, he’ll protect you, okay? nothing bad can happen to you here.”

he looked over at you, before turning back to connor. “and we can play poker tomorrow, you’re getting pretty good.”

“are you leaving?” the boy whispered, choking a bit on his tears.

“just for a little bit, kid. i’ll be back soon, i promise. i’ll be here when you wake up. i’m not going to leave you anytime soon.”

“okay,” the boy mumbled. luke pulled the covers over his shoulders, and ruffled his hair before turning to you. 

“let’s go,” he mouthed, gesturing at the door. the two of you crept outside, luke much more stealthily than you, closing the door silently. “god of thieves,” he shrugged, but he didn’t grin as he usually did when he bragged. you didn’t have to ask why, but you played along. 

“yeah, yeah, i know,” you said, rolling your eyes. “can we go now?”

“yeah, ‘course,” he said. he slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him as you walked, and you couldn’t help but think of silena’s words as you rested your head on his chest.

arriving back at the campfire, you pulled yourself away from luke, walking over to hannah. she smirked at you, pulling you in for a hug. 

“you don’t have to do this, you know,” she said. 

“i know,” you replied. “i want to. he’s cute.” 

and he was, you thought, as he led you away from the campfire. you’d sat for an hour, letting the flames dance over your skin as you talked with him. he made you laugh, even blush when he grew a flower out of the stone to tuck behind your ear. when he grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet, you felt dizzy, though that might have been the alcohol. 

as you walked further away from the amphitheater, you spun around in the grass, laughing, and he laughed with you. or at you? you couldn’t really tell, and you didn’t really care. you just wanted to kiss him. you didn’t notice that you weren’t heading near the cabins until he stopped in a little cove at the edge of the forest. 

“why are we here?” you asked, a little dazed. 

“come on,” he said. “you know why.” 

and then he was kissing you. it was messy, and made you kind of uncomfortable, but you told yourself to get over it. you couldn’t expect it to live up to the time luke had kissed you, on a dare, when you were thirteen. nothing would ever live up to that, because you couldn’t have him. he hadn’t even cared when you had left him at the party, talking up some girl you couldn’t really see on the other side of the fire.

you blinked, pulling away from jack. you hadn’t realized as you were thinking it, but you had admitted to yourself for the first time that yes: you did want luke. really, really, wanted him. you pushed back on jack lightly. 

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i can do this right now,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth on the sleeve of your hoodie — luke’s hoodie, that he had given you that night after he kissed you, when you were shivering outside, staring into space because you couldn’t understand what you were feeling. 

“come on, it’s fine,” jack replied, pulling you back into his arms. they weren’t like the arms you were picturing earlier. no, you could admit to yourself new that those had been luke’s. your mind was reeling— you knew that you couldn’t have him, that he would never like you like you liked him, but kissing jack felt wrong. not that you had really been kissing him back. 

“i want to go home,” you said, and you weren’t sure where you meant. back to the campfire, to luke and hannah, back to your cabin? maybe even back to your mom on the upper east side, who you missed every day but couldn’t live with during the year for the sake of your little brother, who was too young to know that he, too, was a son of poseidon. 

“really? you were flirting with me all night,” jack mumbled into your lips. “stay a little longer.” it was true, you had been flirting with him. you figured you could at least make out with him for a bit. you resigned, letting him lower you onto the grass, and reluctantly letting him run his hands along the hem of your shirt. 

hannah was getting worried, and luke could tell. he had forced himself off when you were clearly interested in that demeter guy, who luke knew and was friends with but suddenly hated with all his guts. he had forced himself to be interested in getting the details on silena and beckendorf, which he didn’t really realize he was getting to share with you later, resigning to glancing too often through the flames of the fire at your face, and the way the flames made you look like a goddess. no, he thought. you always looked like a goddess. 

but hannah, who had just arrived back at camp for the summer that morning, was biting her lip, and looking around with a bothered expression on her face, and luke had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, that he needed to know you were safe immediately. 

he walked over to hannah, probably too quickly, and didn’t waste time asking how she was, or how college had been. “where is she?” he demanded, too forcefully. he would have to apologize to hannah later, but he only had one thing on his mind.“what’s wrong?”

“oh. hey, luke,” she said, still in a sort of trance. he snapped his finger away from her face, shaking his head.

“hannah? where is she?” 

she shook her head and widened her eyes. it was clear to luke that you had picked up that habit of staring out at nothing when you were deep in thought, usually not about pleasant things. “she’s with jack,” she said. “they left a little while ago. i just… i don’t know. i should go check that she’s back at her cabin by now.” 

“yeah, yeah we should,” luke grumbled, and started taking the steps out of the theater two at a time in an effort to get out. hannah followed— you had told him that his stress could be contagious. 

you weren’t in your cabin. you weren’t in the demeter cabin either, and the pair of them woke up a bunch of kids as you barged in, which he was sure mr. d would have a lot to say about in the morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

he ran across the basketball court, hannah close behind. 

“i have an idea of where they might be,” hannah said, pointing in the direction of the woods.

“how do you know?” 

“because i showed jack that spot when we were fourteen,” she said, grumbling. luke clearly wasn’t the only one who cared about you. 

“i thought you were gay?” luke questioned, not slowing down. 

“yeah. like i said, fourteen. people explore things, figure themselves out.” gods, she thought, men could be so incredibly stupid. 

they ran faster than ever to the edge of the woods, where sure enough, they found you, lying on a mossy stone with jack hovering over you. luke wanted to run to you immediately, but hannah held him back — no easy feat, but she managed. 

“hold on, romeo,” she strained. “you can’t just barge in there and—” then she heard it— the unmistakable sound of your voice, and the word stop.

“jack…” you mumbled. you were so drunk. you weren’t sure where you were anymore, and you didn’t really remember walking over here, though you knew you had. “jack, we can do this later, i’m tired—” 

“you’re fine, it’s fine,” he said quietly, starting to undo the zipper of your shorts. you reached down to stop him, but he pushed your hand away, and as it hit the stone, moss started growing over it, holding it there. 

“jack, stop it,” you said, more forcefully this time. you realized that he didn’t even know what he was doing, and for some reason that scared you more. he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but he wanted it— he wanted you held down, and he didn’t care that you didn’t. 

he shushed you, but looked up at a rustling in the trees, and a familiar grunt. 

luke broke out of hannah’s arms, but it didn’t really matter, because she had been letting him go anyways. he stormed across the clearing, and while you were still dazed and confused, you couldn’t miss the entirety of jack’s weight being ripped from on top of you, and you thought you saw a fist collide with his face. 

hannah, however, rushed to your side. she didn’t particularly want to see luke end up bloody and beaten in the infirmary, but she had bigger fish to fry right now: namely, you. she tore up the moss, no longer strong as jack’s focus was elsewhere, and redid your shorts for you. there were tears on your face as she pulled you to your feet. 

there was so much noise. jack was shouting at luke, but you couldn’t make out the words. you could hear the music and the gleeful sounds of counselors from the amphitheater, but it seemed worlds away from you. 

as hannah led you out of the woods, much faster than you could really manage, your head began to pound behind your eyes. a splitting pain hit your forehead, and your vision went black and spotty. you stumbled forward, relying entirely on hannah to keep you upright, but one stray tree root took you down. you swam between consciousness and a dark, dark sleep. there was screaming, it was hannah, and then the familiar deep voice of clarisse, barking orders. you thought you heard annabeth’s name, and then two strong sets of arms lifting you up, and carrying you away. 

you woke up at the bottom of the sea. no. that wasn’t right. the bottom of the sea was soft, covered in mud and sand. you tried to stretch your body, hitting plastic walls. as your eyes focused, you could make out cartoon fish swimming entirely too close to your face, and you sat up with a start, splashing water all over a corner of the infirmary. 

a kiddie pool. they had filled a kiddie pool with salt water, and left you in it overnight to soak, like one of those colorful dinosaur toys that grew in water. and the worst part was that it seemed to have worked. you felt brand new, like you had slept for a hundred years, and at the same time followed a very strict workout regimen, taken a juice cleanse and eaten like a king. you groaned, and slipped back under the water. 

you stared at the ceiling, watching wooden beams ripple with the surface of your personal ocean. you wondered if your father ever felt like this is in the pacific, if he could be that big if he wanted to. your camp necklace floated up before your face, crossing a familiar face lurking over you. 

you sat up. cara fletcher, hannah’s friend, held out some nectar. you shook your head. 

“i’m okay.”

she raised an eyebrow. 

“fine,” you sighed, taking the flask and drinking. it did help. you felt like you could take on the minotaur. 

“your friends were here all night,” she said. i kicked them out around ten because they were falling asleep on each other, and i didn’t need any more cracked skulls when they fell off the stools. 

“more?” you asked. she sighed, looking over her shoulder. 

“your boyfriend beat that kid up pretty bad last night,” she said. you didn’t see jack lying on any of the cots, but a head of dark curls lay a few beds down, and the body attached to it did not look to be in great shape.

“he’s not my boyfriend.” you answered quickly, not taking your eyes off of luke. “is he okay?”

cara seemed to make out which he’s you were referring to. “i wasn’t talking about him,” she said. “hannah told me what happened. if you ask me, luke didn’t do nearly enough damage.” 

“don’t tell him that,” you said. “and he’s also not my boyfriend,” you added as you processed her words fully. 

“not yet, he’s not.” hannah said, strolling in with three bagels in hand.

“i thought i told you to go to bed,” cara scolded, taking her bagel. “you’re going to drop dead one of these days.” hannah smiled, ignoring her as he sat down next to her and put her arm around her shoulders.

you glance between them, ideas churning in your mind, but they were quickly interrupted by the bagel being shoved in your face. you had always thought that the harpies must have spent some time in the city— they made a dam good bagel.  

“so.” hannah started. “you are going to tell us everything you’re thinking right now, because i see you looking over at him every two seconds, and don’t think you’re getting out of any of it.”

“i’m eating,” you grumbled. hannah reached to snatch the bagel away, but cara swatted her hand back. 

“she’s recovering.” you stuck your tongue out at hannah. 

“i don’t care,” hannah said. “spill.” 

“look, i don’t even know what happened last night—” 

“because you were really, really, drunk,” she interrupted. 

“do you want me to speak or not?” you demanded. 

“okay. fine. but just so you’re aware, he swooped in and defended you, and beat the shit out of that little asshole, who, just between us, mr. d is fucking fuming with.” trust hannah to get distracted two seconds in. demigod adhd was no joke. “he dragged him to the big house this morning himself, severe concussion and all, and according to lee, chewed him out for about an hour. something about the sanctity of drunkenness and how it is not to be weaponized… even chiron was surprised.” she paused for breath. 

“anyways, the point stands— he,” she nodded her head at luke, “was quite literally your knight in shining armor, and if you still don’t think he is absolutely enamored with you—” and you were pretty sure you heard a cot creak— “then i swear on my mother i will call her down and force her to do something about this because i cannot take it any longer.” 

“he was just being a good person, hannah,” you muttered. “he’s just like that.” 

hannah looked as though she were about to scream, but cara rubbed her hand along her thigh, calming her before she spoke herself. 

“there’s something more than that, isn’t there?” she asked softly, and you thought she was staring directly into your soul. “there’s a reason you don’t think he likes you.”

you hesitated, splashing the water around in your pool and making eye contact with a cartoon fish as you worked up the courage to say what it was you knew you had to get off your chest.

“before last night,” you started, your voice cracking as you spoke, “it was just me thinking i wasn’t pretty enough, or good enough for him. that he wouldn’t look at me because there are so many other girls at this camp who are obsessed with him. and i don't think i realized that i liked him either. but now…” a sob came from the back of your throat, and you looked up at hannah, tears streaking your red face. 

“why would he want me now?” you sobbed.

“hey. stop that,” hannah started. “what jack did to you wasn’t your fault, and everyone knows that.” she was trying to make you feel better, but the news that your pathetic love life was the talk of camp wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“it was, though,” you said quietly. “i led him on. i never told him no that strongly, and i was flirting with him all night. what reason did he have not to think… not to…” you were hyperventilating now, your words coming out in broken syllables. 

“i’m a fucking slut, and now everyone knows it,” you managed. you sank back into the water to slow your breathing, but tears still streamed down your face. 

“that’s bullshit,” came a voice from elsewhere in the infirmary. you could have thrown up then and there. you pulled yourself up by the walls of the kiddie pool, looking down the aisle as luke castellan limped towards you. his scarred eye was bruised and bloodshot, and he had a massive scrape running up his left arm, and that was just what you could see. the tears began to fall faster. 

“luke…” 

you were thirteen years old again, at the top of half-blood hill, holding grover upright. you were watching desperately as he stumbled upward, through the pouring rain, carrying a screaming little girl who was trying with all her might to run back and help her friend. all four of you were sobbing, exhausted and beaten. seeing them all like that was ten times more painful than the gash in your side. 

“that’s bullshit,” luke repeated. you got up from the pool and held his face in your hand, inspecting the bruise. you took the rest of the nectar cara had given you, holding it to his lips, but he pushed it away. “you’re not a slut,” he said. suddenly everything about your conversation came rushing back to you, and it hit you that you had just admitted to him that you were in love with him. 

you turned your head. hannah and cara were gone, slipped out the back door. you turned back to face luke, face red and tears pouring over your skin.

“that wasn’t your fault. you didn’t owe him anything. he‘s disgusting, and deserves to have his fucking dick cut off.” you laugh, despite everything. 

“i think mr. d may have actually taken care of that,” you whispered. 

“good.” you looked at him for a while. his eyes were so beautiful, a deep, deep, brown that reminds you of the otters that hung mysteriously around your upper east side apartment when you lived in the city.   

“why did you have to fight him?” you asked, reaching up to his face again. 

“you were in trouble,” he said. 

“luke.” the tears were threatening to fall again. “you could have seriously hurt yourself. i just… why? why not just pull him off of me?” you needed an answer. you needed to know why, why on earth he had put so much of himself in front of you, in front of jack’s fists.

he looked down at you, a pained expression on his face. “you know why,” he whispered. 

he looked down at your lips, and you shook your head softly. you looked down at your feet. you were so afraid, afraid that he wouldn’t be interested now that you didn’t want… that. from him. yet— that you considered looking up and letting him kiss you.

he shocked you when he wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him, holding the back of your head into the space between his chest and his shoulder. 

“okay,” he whispered. “that’s okay.” then, softer. “i love you.”

you couldn’t say it back. not yet, not now. but you held him tighter, holding on to him like he was the only thing stopping you from falling into tartarus. 

“i’ll be here forever,” he spoke into your hair. and you believed him. 

the hermes cabin hosted a movie night that night. you were watching the incredibles two, at a request from connor stoll, who was currently involved in an intense argument with annabeth over which installment was better.  

“i think i’m going to start calling you that,” luke whispered in your ear. “jack-jack.” you glared at him. “‘cause, you know, your last name’s jackson-” 

“yeah, dude, i got the joke,” you said. you rolled your eyes, nuzzling your head into his chest. you could stay like this for a while, you thought, and as you closed your eyes, you felt him press a kiss to your head — something you had told him was okay. you couldn’t wait to bring him home for a weekend. maybe annabeth, too. you couldn’t help but think she would get along great with your brother.

⭑

a/n: hello loves! i hope you enjoyed this, please please leave any feedback or anything, and let me know if you would like me to continue this story/write more of luke and the reader's past. i hope people enjoyed the little hints at percy! so excited for this reader and to explore all her relationships.

[pininghermit]

Green-Eyed Monster

AN: gotta love D. Can't wait to get to Lawrence Valcua and be obsessed with him.

Genre: fluff

Pairing(s): D (Vampire Hunter) x gn Reader

Summary: Were you jealous? Absolutely. Would you ever let D know? Not in a million years.

“And then the girl… what was her name?” The hand prattled on, its voice ringing loudly in the attic as you wiped down the dusty relics D inexplicably loved to hoard.

“Doris Lang,” the dhampir replied without hesitation.

You paused mid-swipe, the lamp in your hand suddenly feeling a little too throwable. Of course, he’d remember her full name. That detail alone scratched at your every nerve, but you clung to your carefully constructed air of indifference.

With a nod, you pretended the name meant nothing to you. It was as though you hadn’t heard it at all, as though it wasn’t setting your teeth on edge.

Ignorant of your rising temper, the hand carried on relentlessly. D, naturally, made no effort to stop it.

“Yes, Doris Lang. A beauty, that one. Too young for my tastes, but sweet girl, really. She even offered herself! As if—”

Gods above, were they testing you?

He’d been home for less than a day after so long away, and this was how you were welcomed. The damned hand wouldn’t shut up about Doris Lang.

Were you jealous? Absolutely. Would you ever let D know? Not in a million years.

You turned, forcing a sweet smile in his direction. D sat nestled in the corner of the attic, blinking sleepily at you as if utterly unfazed by the chaos unfolding around him. Despite his exhaustion from the road, he had insisted on following you during your furious cleaning spree.

If only he’d just go lie down and let you stew in peace, you might have been able to let off some steam battling the cobwebs alone. But no, here he was, stoic, irritatingly perfect, and blissfully unaware of your mounting irritation.

So here you were, crammed into the attic you couldn’t air out, trapped with the relics, the moronic hand, and the infuriatingly oblivious man himself. The air itself felt suffocating, the weight of unspoken tension pressing against you.

“Did you end up eating that breakfast Doris made?” The hand rattled on, its grating voice slicing through the stillness of the attic.

D nodded, maddeningly calm as always. “I did.”

The hand snickered, clearly enjoying itself. “Of course you did. It wasn’t bad for human food. And the wine? Truly excellent.”

You froze mid-swipe, the rag trembling in your hand. Slowly, deliberately, you turned, your face a picture of sweetness masking the storm brewing beneath.

“Oh, did you?” you cooed, every word dripping with false delight. “How remarkable. Sounds like you had an amazing adventure. No wonder it took you so long to come home.”

D, oblivious or indifferent to the edge in your voice, nodded again. His expression remained unreadable, his calm utterly infuriating. “The sights were good. The girl was brave.”

For once, mercifully, the hand fell silent. Even it seemed to sense the danger in the air, though not for long.

You crossed your arms, leaning back slightly, still holding onto that too-sweet smile. “Brave, you say? And what exactly did this brave Doris Lang do to earn such glowing praise?” Your voice was light, almost teasing, but the sharpness beneath it cut clear.

D met your gaze, calm but deliberate, and the hesitation before he spoke was louder than his words. “She stood up to nobility. Foolishly.”

“Oh, how generous of her.” You tilted your head, the mocking lilt in your voice sharpening. “What was it, then? Battling monsters? Offering shelter? Or…” you waved a hand airily, “…pouring you more of that excellent wine?”

The hand seized the moment, its chuckle breaking the charged silence. “You forgot Larmica—the count’s daughter. Girls practically trip over themselves for D, you know. She—”

You didn’t take the bait, though your grip on the rag tightened until your knuckles ached. Instead, you arched an eyebrow, feigning disinterest.

“The count’s daughter? My, you’ve been busy.” The words came out smooth, but they left a bitter taste on your tongue.

D watched your back in silence, something about your posture gnawing at him. The way your shoulders were drawn tight, stiff with tension, told him it wasn’t just fatigue. You were upset. But why?

You smiled when you spoke, yet it wasn’t the same. The warmth he was used to had been replaced by something sharp, something brittle. His brow furrowed as his left hand rambled on, oblivious to the charged atmosphere. You nodded absently, but your focus wasn’t on the conversation.

And then it hit him, a stark, undeniable realization.

You were jealous.

The curt smiles. The pointed remarks at the recount of his travels. The restless energy of your impromptu cleaning spree. It all made sense now.

Straightening where he sat, D silenced the hand mid-sentence with a sharp glance, its chatter dying instantly. Rising from his seat, he crossed the attic in a few long strides, stopping just behind you.

You barely noticed his approach until he gently took the candelabra from your hands, setting it aside with care. His hands moved to your shoulders, steadying you as he leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours. The gesture was careful, deliberate. Without the brim of his hat in the way, it felt easier, closer.

The silence between you was thick, but unspoken words hung in the air. D studied you, the way your gaze stubbornly fixed itself to the floor as though it had personally offended you.

“I missed you.” His voice was quiet, a murmur just for you.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, the vulnerability in them unguarded for the first time all day. For once, D didn’t retreat into silence. He let the words come, steady and sure.

Cupping your cheek, his hand lingered as if grounding himself in the moment. He took in every detail, no longer content with the fleeting glances he’d stolen earlier.

“They don’t matter,” he said softly, his gaze unwavering. “I missed you. And I hurried back because I wanted to be with you.”

He paused, watching as his words sank in. The irritation that had hardened your expression began to melt away, replaced by something softer. And then, to his quiet wonder, your cheeks flushed with a charming red that warmed the cool air of the attic.

In the deepest recesses of his heart, D was surprised by the revelation. The realization of your envy, however, did not fill him with dread or discomfort. Instead, its sweetness lingered, an unspoken truth warming the cold edges of his being.

You desired him. You waited for him. And now, this was yet another undeniable proof of your affection.

You glared at him harmlessly, the irritation clear in the way your lips pressed together in a pout. The sight only made it harder for him to suppress the faint smile threatening to curve his lips.

“Don’t be so smug!” you scolded, swatting his shoulder with the dusting cloth. Your tone was sharper than your swing, but the effort to appear stern was betrayed by the slight flush in your cheeks.

It was already too late. The sudden giddiness of the realization had taken hold of him, a rare and quiet joy blooming in his chest. It was subtle, as everything with D often was, but it was there, unmistakable and steady.

He tried to rein in the smile, but the twitch at the corners of his lips betrayed him.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What do you think Jacob's personality like if he never shifted? Did his activated wolf genes make him more impulsive or did they mess up his hormones which in turn dialed his possesiveness and impulsivity toward Bella (but did not really change other aspects in his life)?

A Caveat on Thoughts About Jacob

Why is Jacob Like This?

The thing about Jacob is that he has a lot of reasons for why he might have ended up with the questionable choices he makes throughout the series.

He's a young man who's had to take care of his disabled father for years, his mother is dead, his friends all join a weird gang, he then finds out he's stuck joining the weird gang and oh that gang is "you become a dangerous wolf against your will and could hurt the person you care about the most, and good news, you may not have any choice in loving a person as you'll 'imprint' on some rando you've never met!" And then he learns the details of what's going on with Bella and that only goes from bad to worse.

I'm sure there are deeply weird werewolf hormones, it's strongly implied in canon that there are as all the shapeshifters are suddenly much more aggressive and emotional than they were previously, but while they're in the cocktail of why Jacob acted the way he did--

He had a lot of reasons to act the way he did.

But No Shifting

I think what you're asking more, is what if Jacob had the chance to live a normal life. I think he'd be a perfectly normal guy, the very sweet boy that we saw in Twilight as well as the early part of New Moon.

He wouldn't be under the same immense stress, he wouldn't have his free will stripped from him, he wouldn't know that Bella is in this death-seeking relationship with a literal monster.

I think he'd be a perfectly ordinary person, good to those he's friends with.

Now, per canon, Bella would disappear and ghost him as she did all her human friends (or else not ghost him, specifically, but for some reason he can never meet her in person and 'here's a photo of my niece who looks exactly like me and Edward') which would cause him untold amounts of hurt and stress, Jacob would lose all his friends to shifting and never get resolution on what the fuck is going on, and he'd have an all around miserable time.

But I don't think he'd necessarily act the way he did in canon, as the stakes wouldn't be as high for him and he wouldn't have shifting forced upon him.

[flowercrowngods]

a study in grief, because barb was mike’s friend, too — and steve knows

🤍 also on ao3

November never feels right in Hawkins anymore, and it’s especially bad for the Byers and the Wheelers, with Will‘s Upside Down-iversary and Barb’s death day — except she doesn’t just get a day, she gets a whole week. From the day she went missing to the day that is written on her tomb stone, the day of the lie, the day that will always remind them of the shit they got mixed up with.

The week, really. To some extent Steve feels like this week of grief belongs to all of them, not just Barb — because something died inside all of them, something that sounds and looks and feels a lot like childhood and innocence that could never be restored.

Not like he could — or would — ever say that out loud and burden himself with anymore guilt when it comes to Barb. She should have her week. Fuck, she should have had a life. A lifetime lived, not a lifetime mourned.

God, how she should have lived.

He never even knew her, not really, other than snide and sassy remarks that he would have loved sometimes to acknowledge with a grin or a laugh or even a good natured shove if things had been different. He never even knew her, learned more about her posthumously through Nancy’s and Karen’s and the Hollands’ stories and pictures. And something about getting to know someone rather intimately once they’re dead just never sits right. It haunts you in a way you wouldn’t be haunted had you known them properly.

It’s a different kind of grief, the one that cannot be expressed without the danger of insensitivity. So Steve keeps his mouth shut and visits her grave. Her empty, empty grave. And he listens and he waits and he hugs and he thinks.

He murmurs, sometimes, when nobody’s listening, that he doesn’t swim anymore. That he hasn’t been in the pool in one, two, three years now, and that it’ll turn into four, five, six years. He whispers, sometimes, when nobody’s listening, that he’s made a stone for her in his garden, written on it with black sharpie and trembling hand.

In memory of Barb. 8 Nov 1983

Tells her that it feels dumb, and that he’s sorry, but he can’t remove it because that would feel worse, and that he’s so, so sorry. Because she doesn’t even like him. And he’s kinda come to love her. And because everything about that is wrong, and that she shouldn’t have to be bound to someone she doesn’t like just because she doesn’t have the chance to leave anymore now; because she’s already left, and—

He’s so, so sorry.

And then he leaves. He’s always the first to leave, with Karen’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing as if in thanks or in need for someone to hold her for mourning the girl she’s come to love as a daughter. Steve smiles at her, a sad grimace though it is, and gently squeezes Karen’s hand. Because Karen’s grief is real, and she must feel so much worse.

If he were any younger and had met fewer monsters, had gotten fewer head injuries and near-death experiences, Steve would wonder if worse was even possible. But now he knows. And he squeezes.

In his car, blinking away tears and clawing away the itch under his skin, Steve realises and notices and remembers that only one who never comes is Mike.

So he drives, almost aimlessly; trying not to think of sorries, of empty caskets and lies and NDAs, of murmured comments in the hallways and eyes rolled behind thick glasses and the occasional smile reserved only for Nancy. Trying not to be haunted by could have beens and would have beens and should have beens, and instead remind himself that they weren’t friends. She wasn’t to him what he knows about her now.

He has no right to feel this hollow.

But there’s someone, he knows, who does. Someone who won’t let himself grief, because he was never told how to. Because he was never told it was okay to mourn your older sister’s best friend who practically lived at your house on the weekends for years. Someone who grew up with her, someone who looked up to her, because Barb was a nerd and she was cool!

And that someone can be found sitting on the curb by his house, ripping out strands of grass and littering the street in green blades and clumps. Ted would freak out if the man was capable of one single emotion.

Steve parks the car a good few feet away and walks over — slowly, so it’ll look casual enough to not make Mike suspicious.

“Steve?” the boy says, grimacing up him, squinting against the horrible grey of the sky that is both gloomy and blinding today. “What do you want?”

Steve holds his eyes for a minute, mustering his posture, his chronically horrible posture and the good amount of lawn that’s already fallen victim to his needing an outlet of… whatever he’s feeling.

He nods at the curb, the side where the lawn is still intact. “Mind if I sit?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I wanna?”

After a while, Mike shrugs. “Not like I can stop you from doing anything ever, so.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all year, man,” Steve says, unable to suppress his grin, and Mike groans beside him, rolling his eyes in a long-suffering way.

There’s something subdued about him, though, something muted. Suppressed.

And he remembers how three years ago Mike went through the end of the world several times. Will disappeared. Will died. Barb disappeared. Barb died. Will came back, but changed, and Mike couldn’t reach him anymore. Not like before. And then El. There and gone. And Mike, among everyone’s grief and trauma with a hefty dose of his own. Steve remembers, right after, doors slamming and Nancy crying, yelling at her little brother that he’s not allowed to be sad, how can he be sad, when his best friend came back! How dare you, Michael, shut up!

Steve’s never seen Nancy like that — and didn’t, after. It was just that one time, but he’s sure that it wasn’t easy in the Wheeler house for a while. Still isn’t, maybe, with how emotionally stunted Nancy has become, guarded and cold and quiet, dangerous, while Mike turned… loud. Prickly. Like a gaping wound, the blood still seeping from it not in a lethal way but steady nonetheless, and ever so painful, because it was told it’s not a wound at all.

He remembers, too, sitting with Mike afterwards as Nancy sent him away, told him to leave, she’d call tonight but she couldn’t right now. He remembers the twelve year-old boy with a frown on his face and angry, sad, confused tears in his eyes.

“She was my friend, too!”

“Yeah?”

Mike nodded, curling in on himself where they sat on the bottom of the stairs. “I knew her! I shared my pizza with her and we watched movies together and she talked to me about Dungeons and Dragons and about how I could join her campaign, maybe, if she ever gets around to be the dm, and— and she knows things! Knew, I mean. We’d do our homework, the three of us, and Barb would help me when Nance wouldn’t and— She was my friend. She liked books but hates the Catcher in the Rye because Caulfield annoys her, and I don’t know what that means but I know that! I know because…”

“Because she’s your friend,” Steve finished for him, realisation and a new understanding for their dynamic dawning on him. And it’s an awful, awful understanding that makes him feel gaping and hollow in a visceral way.

Mike nodded and sniffled, wiping his face on his sleeve that came away wet and snotty, and somehow that sound never made it out of Steve’s head, and he can hear it even now, three years later as they’re sitting on the curb.

And he’s gaping once more.

“Went to see Barb today,” he says, an offering that hangs between them, a truth for Mike to ignore or build on.

There are not many times Steve’s ever looked at someone and thought they withered, but Mike does. Right now, he does. His face falls, his shoulders slump, and he frowns because anything else would lead to tears and an emotional breakdown he’s been holding off for three years now.

“I don’t care.” His voice is pressed, his face halfway buried behind his shoulders as he throws a handful of grass at Steve.

“Mike,” he says, sounding frail even to his own ears. Tender. “She was your friend.”

“I don’t care!” Mike repeats, his voice even worse. Maybe his lungs are withering, too, maybe the air grows rotten with each lie he tells to protect himself from feeling everything he’s been keeping at bay for three years. Maybe denial has an expiration date.

Steve watches. Waits. It’s what he does, the second week of November.

And then, after a few lungfuls of air that looked like they were fighting him for it, hidden in his arms and away from Steve’s gaze, Mike’s voice breaks.

“They don’t care.”

They. Steve knows. Remembers rather helplessly. Still he asks, “Who’s they?”

Another breath, but this time it sounds like a gasp. Like a sob. “Mom. Nance. They don’t— They don’t care! I don’t get to be sad, I don’t get to see her, I don’t get to think of her without Nancy telling me it’s unfair that I do, without mom giving me that… that fucking look! I don’t get to feel, because I’m a boy and because my best friend didn’t die and that just— that feels like an unfair bottom line, but they don’t care!”

Steve wants to cry with him, because he’s right. It’s not fair. None of it.

Mike hides his sobs in his arms, pulling the hood of his sweater further over his face, like he’s scared to find that the world will start caring when he’s at his lowest.

“And, yknow what’s the worst? I hate that you know. I hate that you’re the only one who knows, and I hate that you’re here, and I just… I hate it.”

“Sorry,” Steve offers after a while.

“Shut up,” Mike says. “You shouldn’t know. They should! Why doesn’t Nancy see? Why won’t she let me? Why doesn’t she know?!”

“I don’t know,” Steve offers, a whispered half-truth, because he does know. Because everything Mike feels, Nancy feels, too. But she also feels guilt and a hole in her heart and her life and her future. She feels the lack of teenage innocence because it was ripped from her, stolen and dragged to another dimension before it was brutally executed.

He can’t tell Mike that, though; not right now. Because it’s not a competition, and it’s not an honest question but a desperate, hurting one.

“Talk to her,” he says at last, quietly, when the sobs have calmed down and Mike has gone endlessly still beside him. “Tell her everything you told me. That she was your friend, too, and that you miss her, and that you feel like you can’t and shouldn’t, and how that makes everything worse. Tell her she’s not the only one who lost Barb. I think she’ll listen now.”

At last, Mike looks up, his face still largely covered by the hood, but Steve can see the tear tracks and he can see the wariness. But also hope. Or yearning, a longing for the version of reality Steve’s just opened up to his mind.

“Why do you think that?”

“Because she’s your sister. Because it’s been three years. And because Barb was your friend, too.”

Another tear, two, three, four, before Mike sniffles again. A wet sound that takes Steve back to three years ago, when they were sitting together and he was watching what was still the beginning of Mike Wheeler breaking over loss and trauma he was never allowed to work through.

“Okay.” A sad little sound. It makes Steve smile, because if he doesn’t smile right now, he’ll cry and scream at the world, burn it down and tear it apart so it won’t hurt Mike anymore.

“Good,” he says at last. “Do you wanna—“

“Can we go to the cemetery?” Mike interrupts him.

Steve inclines his head. “Right now?”

A shrug. He waits. Watches and waits and thinks. Allowing him to find his footing.

“Tomorrow?”

He smiles, warmth and pride blooming inside him, slowly stitching together the gaping wound and allowing him to breathe.

“Sure. Absolutely.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

Rather abruptly, then, after a beat of pause, Mike gets up and kicks at Steve’s foot.

“Get up, asshole.”

Steve sputters, taken aback by the whiplash and the sudden change in mood and energy, but he does as he’s told. The minute he stands, he finds himself with an armful of a fifteen year-old, holding on like his life depends on it.

“Thank you.” It’s mumbled into his sweater, sounding wet again, but Steve doesn’t care about that as he wraps his arms around Mike’s shoulders and holds him, too, deciding he won’t be the first to let go.

“Anytime, dickhead, you know that.”

Mike snorts, and it’s better than the sniffle, and it makes Steve smile into the hug.

[sequinsmile-x]

Noble

/ˈnəʊbl/ adjective.

having or showing fine personal qualities or high moral principles.

Emily and Aaron, along with the rest of the BAU, help look for a missing little girl who has the same name as their daughter.

-x-

Hi friends,

This started as an idea I had yesterday and, as always, spiralled wildly out of control. It's less a bit less of a case fic than I initially intended, but it is angsty, full of feelings and hurt/comfort as well as a good dose of domestic Hotchniss.

I really hope you like this, and I would love to know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 5.5k (really really got away from me.)

Warnings: kidnapping, canon typical themes

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She’s woken up by tiny hands pressing into her face, familiar warm and little fingers digging into her cheeks. Emily blearily opens her eyes, struggling at first as if they’d been glued together by a lack of sleep, and she’s met with her little girl's face, her dark eyes shining in the low light of the room. 

“Alice, honey, are you okay?” she asks, reaching to the nightstand to turn on the lamp, internally winching when she sees it’s only 4 am. She rests her elbow on the mattress to get a better look at her little girl. 

The movement causes her husband's arm to slip from its place over her waist, the weight of it now resting on her hip. She can feel from his breathing against the back of her neck that the small amount of light in the room hadn’t woken Aaron up. When they first started sleeping together, in the very literal sense, they’d both been light sleepers. Both so used to being alone and facing their monsters by themselves, their demons who had faces of very real men prone to coming out of any shadow. Any sound no matter how small enough to draw them from sleep and into a reality where danger was waiting for them. 

After close to five years together, four of them married, they were both heavier sleepers now, aware of the safety they brought each other even in sleep. A kind of security their children often sought out, her and Aaron’s bed a frequent sanctuary for Jack or Alice, sometimes both, when they woke up in the middle of the night. 

She feels her heart clench at the sight of her 3-year-old daughter. Ever since she was born everyone had always told her that Alice looked exactly like her, something that only seemed to be more true as time went on. If she looked at photos of herself when she was Alice’s age they looked identical, and she often wondered if she’d once been like her little girl, full of life and wonder and joy, before she was taught she needed to be ‘better behaved’. 

Emily knows what’s happened before Alice responds, the signs of a nightmare all there. Her hair was unruly, dark curls that Emily couldn’t say where they’d come from escaping the braids Aaron had diligently done under the toddler's instructions at bedtime. She has visible tear tracks on her perfect cheeks, her eyes shining with more, and her lower lip trembling as if she was trying to stop herself from crying, as if she was trying to be brave. 

“Bad dream,” Alice replies and Emily sighs sympathetically, reaching out and tucking some of Alice’s hair behind her ear, smiling sadly when the toddler leans into the affection. 

“I’m sorry baby,” she says quietly, aware of her still-sleeping husband behind her, “Want to sleep in here with me and Daddy?” Alice nods as she rubs her eyes and Emily pulls back the covers so the little girl can climb under them. She tucks her against her chest, smiling softly as Alice curls into her, her head tucked under her chin as she snuggles in, her tiny fist clasped in Emily’s pyjama shirt.  Emily turns the lamp back off and wraps her arms around her daughter, rubbing comforting circles on her back, “Want to tell Mommy about the bad dream?” 

Alice shakes her head against her, “No,” she says, rubbing the material of Emily’s shirt between her thumb and forefinger to self-soothe, “Mama sing?” 

Emily smiles before she nods, pressing a kiss against the top of Alice’s head as she continues to rub circles on her back, easing her back asleep. It was something she’d done for Jack before Alice had been born, something she’d done on a whim one day when she was home alone with him early on in her relationship with Aaron and the little boy had a nightmare. He’d climbed into bed with her and she’d started singing, hoping it would calm him down and it had. Ever since then, he’d asked for her to sing when he was sick or sad, and she’d happily comply. It seemed natural to do the same thing for Alice, and she’d done it before she was even born. More than once Aaron had walked into a room to find her with her hands pressed into her bump, as she sang quietly. 

“Of course, sweet girl. What do you want me to sing?” 

Alice yawns, already getting heavier against Emily’s chest, her mother’s embrace her favourite safe place, “The sunshine song.” 

She rests her cheek on top of Alice’s head and starts to sing, making sure she stays as quiet as possible so she doesn’t wake up Aaron. 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

She feels Alice’s grip on her shirt loosen, and her breathing even out against her neck, and she blows out a slow breath, pressing a kiss to the little girl's forehead before she rests her head properly on her pillow, ready to try and find sleep again herself. Just as she closes her eyes she feels Aaron’s arm move, his hand shifting from her hip to rest over hers on Alice’s back, enveloping them both in his embrace. 

“Is she okay?” He asks sleepily, his voice thick with sleep in a way that never failed to make her stomach flip, a delicious part of him that was only for her and their children. 

“She’s okay,” she replies, turning her head to look at him, the sleepy concerned look on his face enough to make her smile. She stamps a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “She had a bad dream. Sorry we woke you.” 

He shakes his head, letting her know he doesn’t need her apology, that he’d never be mad about how much she loved their children. He kisses her lips and then her shoulder as she lays back down properly, and he hums, “There are worse ways to be woken up than to you singing our daughter to sleep.” 

___

They get woken up early the next morning by Penelope, an urgency to her voice that sends shivers down both of their spines when she says they have an amber alert in New Mexico that they’ve been asked to help with. 

Aaron calls Jess whilst Emily gets Alice and Jack ready for the day, and they exchange hurried goodbyes once Jess has arrived. Hugs with their children that feel too quick as they rush out of the door, well aware that another child’s fate rested well and truly on their shoulders. 

When they get to the jet they finally have a chance to ask for the details of the case, of the little girl who’d been snatched from outside of her home the evening before whilst her mother took in the washing. 

Emily’s breath catches in her chest when she sees the file, and Penelope hesitates before she says the name of the missing girl. It’s a momentary reaction she can’t control, something that makes the rest of the team look at her, and makes Aaron place his hand on her thigh under the table. She rests her hand over his and links their fingers together, squeezing tightly as she clears her throat. 

“Sorry,” she says, smiling tightly as she makes eye contact with JJ before she returns her attention to the laptop, “Pen, carry on.” 

Penelope hesitates for a moment before Aaron clears his throat, making it clear he doesn’t want anyone drawing any more attention to his wife’s reaction, and she nods, blowing out a slow breath before she continues. 

“Our victim's name is Alice Holmes. She was last seen…” 

The rest of the briefing fades out for Emily as she stares at the screen of her iPad, the face of a little girl who had her daughter's name staring back at her. 

___

It feels like she’s on a knife edge, every one of her nerves fried as she stares at the board with the victimology scattered across it.

This Alice looked nothing like her little girl. She was a couple of years older, the baby-fat Alice still had nowhere to be seen. She was blonde and had blue eyes, her hair almost pin straight in all the photos her parents had provided. Emily felt like it should be enough to convince herself that this was fine, that this wasn’t her daughter but someone else's and that she needed to hold herself together. 

It didn’t make it any easier anytime someone said ‘Alice’ as they were describing the kidnapping, or when they talked about the awful things she was likely enduring if she was still alive. Every time she closed her eyes her little girl’s face flashed across them and she felt like she wanted to scream.

She knew Aaron wasn’t faring any better. His shoulders tenser than normal, his fuse short as they hit a few dead ends and had to go to their hotel at the end of their first day on the case. He holds her close as they Facetime their children, some of the tension that had built throughout the day eased by the sight of Alice and Jack happy and healthy under the care of their aunt. 

Neither of them sleep well that night, waking in fits and starts. Taking it in turns to comfort the other when their subconscious taunted them in their dreams, very real things they’d both seen twisting into the situation they found themselves in. 

By the end of the second day, they worry they won’t find Alice until it’s too late, the chances of finding her alive diminishing with each passing hour. 

It’s Spencer who figures it out, his eidetic memory coming into play when he says he recognises the van for a cleaning company that had been parked outside of the Holmes’s house from the footage of the day Alice disappeared in CCTV from another, up until then, unrelated kidnapping. 

She leans in and she spots it too, the large letters on the side of the van clear even in the grainy footage. 

Ray Dawson Cleaning Services.

Penelope finds his address in record time, her relief palpable when she tells them he only lives an hour away. 

___

After the arrest is made, Dawson claims his innocence as Derek roughly takes him away, shoving him into the back of a cop car with what she knows is restraint, Aaron asks her to go into the house first. 

She understands why, knows she’s done it before, but it doesn’t help the way she feels. The way her chest feels hollowed out as they find the perfectly decorated bedroom for a little girl, something that looks like it was pulled out of a magazine, in Dawson’s basement. They have to force the door open because it is triple locked from the outside, the keys nowhere to be found and Dawson's decision to say this had nothing to do with him absolute, so she knows that Alice has to be somewhere in the room. 

The light switches on, the small windowless room floods with light, and Emily hears shuffling under the bed. She turns and nods at JJ before she tilts her head at the door, silently telling her to go tell the others they’d found her. Once she’s alone she kneels near the bed and peers under it, her breath catching in her chest at the sight of the little girl she’d only seen pictures of curled up against the wall, fear painted across her face that was far too much for a five-year-old to feel. 

“Hi Alice,” Emily says as she lays down, her body flat against the floor as she turns her head so she’s facing under the bed. Alice whimpers, holding a toy tight against her chest as she shies away, “My name’s Emily. I’m with the police.” 

“Is he coming back?” Alice asks, her voice shaking, tears spilling out onto her cheeks, and Emily wants nothing more than to pull the little girl into her arms, to hold her like she’d want someone to hold her little girl until she could get there, but she knows it has to be her choice. 

“No, honey. He’s not coming back,” she assures her, “When you’re ready, I’ll help you outside and your Mommy and Daddy are going to meet us at the hospital,” she adds, watching as Alice shrinks back into herself curling tighter against the wall at the mention of getting out from her place of safety. Emily sighs and tries to think how she could help, the sound of footsteps outside the room let her know the others were all there, waiting on her to bring the little girl out. She thinks of her daughter, and an idea starts to form in her head, “I have a little girl, she’s called Alice too.” 

Alice makes eye contact with her for the first time, furrowing her brow a little, “Really?” 

“Really,” Emily confirms, smiling as the 5-year-old relaxes a little, “She’s three so a little younger than you. My Alice…” she starts, having to clear her throat when she hears the shake in it, knowing this wasn’t the time for her emotions, how she felt about the last couple of days, “My Alice, when she’s scared or hurt she likes me to sing to her. Would you like me to sing to you?” 

Alice nods immediately, loosening her grip on her toy, “Yes please.” 

Emily smiles and puts her hand between them, still leaving space so she doesn’t get too close to Alice, but giving her the option of holding her hand if she wants to. 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away.”

As she sings Alice scoots closer, at first placing her hand over Emily’s, squeezing her hand around hers before she gets even closer. By the time Emily finishes singing Alice is near enough Emily can feel her breath on her face. 

“Emily?” Alice asks, her hand tight in her shirt, wrapped around the material sticking out from the top of her bulletproof vest. 

“Yes, honey?” 

“Will you stay with me?” 

Emily nods, taking a deep breath, pushing the rising emotions back down into her stomach, feeling it turn over with them, nausea she knew would take to shift making itself known, “I’ll stay with you until we see your Mommy and Daddy, okay?” 

Alice stares at her for a moment before she nods and Emily smiles at her before she stands up, not even leaving it a second before she bends down and picks Alice up, hoisting her onto her hip. She tries to ignore the desperation in the little girl's hold on her, how tightly she clings to her neck. She carries her out of the room, cupping the back of her head as she presses her face into her neck, clearly not wanting to see the place where she’d been held or the people who had come to rescue her. It’s only when they get outside, when the fresh air hits them, that Alice looks up just as they are approaching Aaron who had been outside directing everything, his face serious as he talks to the lead detective. When he spots Emily and the little girl they’d been looking for sitting on her hip he pardons himself from the conversation and walks over. 

Alice shies away from him, wary of men after everything she’d been through, and she whimpers as Emily tries to soothe her. 

“It’s okay,” she says, “You remember I told you about my little girl?” 

She sniffs as she looks at Emily, seemingly never ending tears slipping down her cheeks, “Your Alice.” 

“Yeah,” Emily says, exchanging a look with her husband, “My Alice. This is her Daddy,” she says softly, “He’s going to take us to the hospital so you can see your Mommy and Daddy, is that okay?” 

Alice nods, her grip on Emily only loosening a little bit, “That’s okay.” 

Emily smiles and steps past Aaron to open the car door, settling into the back seat with Alice on her lap. Before she closes the door Aaron stops it, his hand on it as he looks at her, his concern clear, his stern expression fading away no one but her and the little girl they’d rescued could see her. 

“Are you okay?” 

He felt guilty for sending her in here first, for asking her to do something he knew would be difficult. It hadn’t been lost on him how hard the last couple of days had been on her, how the little girl that had been missing having the same name as their daughter had made a case that would already have been tough, even tougher. But she was the best at this, child advocacy something she was skilled in and cared deeply about, and it was no secret children largely trusted women over men - especially in a situation like this. 

As her boss, he knew that sending her in had been the right thing to do. As her husband, he wished he didn’t have to be the one to ask it of her. 

She smiles tightly at him as she holds Alice closer, grateful that the journey to the hospital was short because they didn’t have a car seat, “Later.” 

He nods, knowing it’s the best he’s going to get for now, and he reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, a silent show of the love he’d wait to give her, “Later.”

___

They head straight from the hospital to the jet where the rest of the team are waiting. 

Emily keeps her promise, she sits with Alice, the little girl all but glued to her side, until her parents arrive. Aaron stands in the corner of the room, answering the doctor’s questions as well as he could, keeping vigil over the little girl, who had the same name as his, and well as his wife, her nerves clearly close to fraying. 

It felt like a lifetime ago when he hadn’t been able to read her, when he would have thought she was unaffected by most of the things he saw. He knew her better now, and had done since before their relationship shifted from friendship into more. She was good at compartmentalising, that was true, but it was because she’d been taught since she was young that her emotions weren’t as important as what was going on around her. A side effect of the political world she’d been raised in, a past she’d never quite outrun. 

He could see it now. Could see how she ran her fingers through Alice’s hair like she was their Alice, how she clenched her jaw for a moment before she blew out a long slow breath whenever the little girl against her side asked her a question, getting herself ready to sound unaffected by what was going on around her.

It was nothing short of a privilege that he was the one those barriers would crumble around, that he was the person she trusted more than anyone else. He loved being there for her, he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone else. 

When Alice’s parents arrive, they are horrified she’d only been an hour away whilst she was missing, so close and yet so far out of reach. The little girl clambers out of Emily’s embrace and into her mother’s, her tears back with a vengeance as she sinks into her arms, her father’s arms around the both of them. Once Alice has calmed down a little, her parents hug both Emily and Aaron, their embraces a little tighter when the little girl tells them their daughter is called Alice too, a hint of innocence in her voice as the weight of her words settles over the adults in the room. 

The ride to the jet is silent. Emily stares out of the window, focusing on the town passing them by, the place she hoped to never have to visit again. 

As they board the jet she ignores how the rest of the team is looking at her, the empathy on their faces almost too much for her to bear. They had purposely left two seats for her and Aaron together, an unspoken rule that had existed since the team found out about their relationship, and she lets Aaron slip into the window seat, something he doesn’t argue with as she sits next to him, her eyes fixed on the table in front of them. 

The moment they can take their seatbelts off Emily is out of her seat, her back to the team as she steps into the kitchenette, the curtain pulled behind her so she can have a moment of privacy. She blows out a shaky breath as she places her palms on the small counter in the back, leaning some of her weight on it as she tries to catch her breath, to force everything she desperately didn’t want to feel until she was at home, until after she’d hugged her kids, back down. 

If she started crying now, she wasn’t sure she’d stop. 

She hears the swish of the curtain and familiar footsteps behind her. She doesn’t have to turn around to know it’s him. 

“Em.” 

She presses her lips together and turns to look at her husband, her arms crossed over her chest as she leans back against the counter. She clears her throat, her eyes fixed on him, how he stands in just in the entryway to the kitchenette, his shoulders tense as he doesn’t know how to approach her. She clenches her teeth and blows a breath out through them. 

“Can you make me some tea?” She asks, even though she’s closer to the hot water and the tea bags. He knows it’s an olive branch, her letting him look after her because she knows he needs to. 

“Of course,” he says, stepping closer, purposely not touching her as he pours some hot water into a paper cup and grabs a chamomile tea bag. He looks at her, his gaze fixed on her side profile as she continues to stare ahead. She’d always been beautiful to him, even when he was married to someone else, and even now, simmering in her grief and where she’d let her mind wander the last few days, she was still gorgeous. The slope of her nose, the cut of her jaw, and her long lashes that were casting shadows onto her cheek. She was beautiful, and she was all his. “This feels like a stupid question,” he starts, his focus back on stirring her tea, “But I have to ask it, how are you?” 

She scoffs, her arms tightening over her chest. She purposely keeps her voice low so it won’t be heard over the hum of the jet in the main part of the cabin, “Are you asking as my husband or as my boss?” 

He turns to look at her, his eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Does my answer change yours?” He asks curiously, and she finally looks at him, her eyebrows raised, and he knows what she hasn’t said, “Your husband.” 

She smiles sadly, her lower lip shaking in a way both of them ignore, “I had a hard day at work.” 

“Sweetheart,” he says, moving to reach out for her but stopping, not wanting to push her, to be the thing that tipped her over the edge, “I’m sorry, I-”

“No, it’s…” she chokes on a noise somewhere between a sob and laugh and she shakes her head, “It’s not your fault. It was the right call, I’ve done it before it’s just…that was hard. And I really wish it wasn’t your job to make the call, even though it was the right one.” 

He sighs, familiar guilt filling his lungs, making it momentarily hard to breathe as he looks at his wife, her jaw tight as she avoids eye contact with him, “I wish it wasn’t my job either.” 

“I know,” she nods, her smile strained as she looks at him, “And I know this wasn’t easy on you either,” she adds, “I’ll be okay, honey. I just need to get home and hug the kids,” she says, her chin trembling, “Hold them until I stop imagining them in her place,” she chuckles humourlessly and shakes her head, “But we’re still five hours from home and they’ll be in bed by the time we get back.” 

He watches as she reaches up to fiddle with the necklace he’d bought her last Christmas, two tiny disk pendants with the letters “J” and “A” stamped on them. He can’t hold himself back from touching her anymore and he places his hand on her hip, turning her to face him, a smile he hopes she finds comforting on his face. 

“I know it’s not the same. But, until we get home you could always hug me,” he says, warmth spreading in his chest when a flash of a genuine smile breaks out over her face, “If you want to.” 

She huffs out a laugh and closes the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his neck and sinking into him, something deep inside of her easing slightly when he holds her back just as fiercely, one of his hands firmly on her back whilst he uses the others to run his knuckles up and down her side. She presses her face into his neck and breathes him in, one of her hands shifting to cup the back of his head, her fingers digging into his hair. 

“I always want to hug you,” she says softly, turning her head so her cheek is resting against his shoulder. She sighs contentedly, feeling something close to relaxed for the first time in days, and she smiles when she looks at the cup of tea on the side next to them, steam rising up from it and reaching her nose, the scent of her favourite tea to drink when she was stressed hitting her. She pulls back to look at him, her smile soft as she leans in to kiss him, her lips delicate against his, “Thank you for making my tea.” 

He hears what she hasn’t said, what she won’t say until they are back at their house in the sanctuary they had built there together. No well-meaning friends just on the other side of a thin curtain desperately trying to hear them over the hum of the jet. 

Thank you for loving me.

Thank you for being here. 

Thank you for being you. 

He leans in and kisses her, his hand on her cheek as he holds her close, “Anytime, sweetheart.” 

___

When they get home, she’s up the stairs before he even closes the front door. She toes off her shoes and shrugs off her coat on her way, leaving him to pick them up so she can go and see their children. He does it gladly, not making any gentle teasing comments he usually would about cleaning up after her. 

He didn’t mind, he loved picking up the pieces of her that she’d allow to fall apart around him.

She barely says hello to Jess as they pass on the stairs, and Jess looks up the stairs at her curiously before she walks towards Aaron as the door to Jack’s room briefly opens and then closes. 

“Is she okay?” Jess asks, her brows furrowed as she hugs him. He sighs as he hugs her back and he steps away, looking for her jacket for her.

“It was a case about a missing little girl,” he says, looking upstairs as Jack’s door opens again, only to be quickly followed by Alice’s, “Emily was the one who found her. Alive thank god.” 

Jess winces sympathetically, and takes her jacket from him, “That’s rough.” 

He hums, “Even rougher when you know the little girl is called Alice.” 

She places her hand over her chest after she shrugs her jacket on, “Poor Emily,” she says, looking up the stairs before she looks back at him, “Poor you. Are you okay?” 

He sighs and scratches the back of his head as he thinks about it, “I’ll be okay once I see her. And once I stop feeling guilty about sending Emily into the room she was being kept in first.”

Jess pulls him into another hug, “She understands your job, Aaron,” she assures him, patting his back before she steps away and heads towards the door, “It’s what makes you guys work. You’ll hold this against yourself a lot longer than she will.” 

He hums and puts his hands on his hips, his eyebrow raised at her, “What made you such an expert on human behaviour?” 

She chuckles and winks at him as she opens the door, “I’ve known you most of my life, some of it was bound to stick eventually,” she says as she steps onto the porch, “Get some sleep. Hug your wife. Everything will feel better tomorrow.” 

He nods, “Thanks, Jess.” 

She smiles at him one more time, “Any time.” 

He sighs as she closes the door and he locks it behind her, double-checking the locks out of habit before he steps further into his quiet house. He puts their go-bags in the laundry room and then decides to head upstairs, desperate to see his family. He pops into Jack’s room and sees he’s fast asleep, his covers tucked up around him in a way that lets him know Emily had adjusted them when she came in to see him, the boy well known for wriggling out of them as he slept. He drops a kiss on his forehead, whispers his love against his skin, and then slips back out of the room, not wanting to wake him. 

When he walks into Alice’s room his breath catches in his chest at the sight he’s met with, his two girls fast asleep and wrapped around each other. Emily was pressed up against the wall on top of the covers having climbed in with Alice when she came in to see her, still wearing her clothes from work, curled up so she could fit in the small bed. Alice is pressed against her, her hand loosely tangled in her mother’s shirt, and Aaron can just picture her waking up just enough to realise Emily was there with her before she fell back asleep, comforted by the fact her mother was home. 

Aaron briefly considers waking Emily up, knowing that her back wouldn’t thank her for sleeping in this position in the morning, but he knows she needs this, that their daughter was the comfort she’d been seeking since they’d last seen her. She was an excellent mother, better than she ever gave herself credit for, and he never felt anything less than blessed when he thought about the fact she’d chosen him as the father to her children. 

He briefly walks out into the hallway and pulls a blanket out of the linen closet before he steps back into the bedroom. He lays the blanket over his wife, making sure to tuck it around her so she doesn’t get cold. He kisses the top of Alice’s head, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of her no tear shampoo, and he whispers against her hair. 

“Love you, Princess,” he says, kissing her head again before he turns his attention to his wife, tension in his chest easing when he sees how relaxed she is. He kisses her cheek, “Love you, sweetheart.” 

She grumbles, waking up ever so slightly, “Aaron?” 

“Go back to sleep, baby,” he says, kissing her cheek again, running his fingers through her hair to soothe her, not entirely convinced she was actually awake, her eyes still closed, “You and Alice get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you in the morning.” 

She hums, tightening her hold on their daughter, and he kisses her cheek again as she mumbles just loud enough for him to hear, “Love you.” 

“Love you too, Em.” 

He sleeps fitfully in the big bed all alone, not used to all of the space to himself, for a couple of hours until she comes in, her eyes bleary with a sleeping Alice in her arms as she passes the little girl over to him so she can actually get ready for bed. She smiles gratefully at him as he settles their daughter against his chest and she leans in to kiss him, her lips pressed against his as she silently thanks him again for knowing her, for always knowing what she needed even when she didn’t. 

When she climbs into bed with him, Alice sandwiched between them, they fall asleep quickly. Safe and content in their own home with their daughter with them and their son asleep just down the hall. 

-x-

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[italoniponic]

𝓑𝓲𝓽𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 - mini-project

Runaway Shrimp

Notes: this is based on a very fun request I made with Malleus, Leona and Azul where Reader accidentally confessed their feelings to them and instead of facing them and waiting for a reply, they just… “bolts” (as the Anon said lol). So then @gilswifey asked if I could do a part 2 with Jade and I thought, huh why not? 

Jade Leech x g!n reader who runs really fast / headcanons / fluff & comedy / part 2 / use of “you” pronouns

“Our house will be a mushroom farm like this…,” you blurted out. It was a big mistake on your part, considering that the alchemy workshop was so empty that your voice projected better than ever, and above all, Jade had enviable hearing. Especially because he was right next to you. So much so that he took his eyes off the poisonous mushroom he had in hand just to face you;

There were no great excuses to be made, no means of deflecting the subject. The implication that you imagined living together with Jade in the future — and the awareness that the constant presence of mushrooms would be inevitable — was right there, heading for more things. More clear that this would have been to have asked for his hand at that moment;

But you chickened out. Well, you never intended to let him find out your feelings, let alone reveal them in this way. Jade still stared at you for another minute, his heterochromatic eyes going from wide in surprise to slowly relaxing into gentle amusement — mostly from your expression of horror — when…;

... you ran away. Few things really impressed Jade in seventeen years of life, being two years of earthly experience. He could be fascinated by various things, develop curiosity about human habits, and wanting to know different things without further ado. But that was the day he was most taken aback by things. And all this is your work;

You ran out of the workshop faster than a flock of sardines when they spotted a monster whale. Jade congratulated your speed — even though you were out of sight to hear it. Calmly, he got up, put away his newest mushroom in a terrarium and made a little call;

From the point where you were, you had two directions: the outskirts of the Ramshackle or some point near the library, near Main Street. That’s considering you were running in a straight line. A third option would be the Hall of Mirrors region. The Leech’s aquatic predator ability aside, you personally had the advantage of knowing how to run really fast. But Jade had an idea that would save him time;

You thought you were out of danger. Your legs had carried you to the other side of the school, somewhere in the woods near the library. Not a sign of Jade following you. You leaned against a tree to catch your breath, but the fatigue wasn't all that was making you feel bad. It was a mixture of guilt and a certain disappointment that you were really alone after all;

Not for long though. Someone took you in their arms by surprise, putting a frightening distance between you and the ground. When you turned around and saw turquoise hair, you even thought it was Jade... but Floyd’s laugh totally broke your expectations;

“I see you’ve managed to catch a runaway shrimp for me, Floyd. What a good brother you are,” Jade smiled when he met the two of you. Floyd carried you in his arms to the courtyard of the Botanical Garden and dropped you into the arms of his twin — the game was good while it lasted. Floyd had mentioned that Jade would spear him from eating the test shiitake dishes if he looked for you in one area of the school while his brother went in the other side;

A master plan, you had to admit. Although there was still the problem that you had nowhere else to run and hide — not with Jade carefully holding you in his own arms, purposefully not giving you that opportunity anymore;

“I personally don’t understand why you ran away like that. It’s not like your feelings aren’t reciprocated,” Jade said gently. It caught you off guard. The feeling was so clear on your face that the merman had a little chuckle. Jade had a docile smile, something very uncommon to see — especially for how sincere it was. But the truth was that he always had that one smile when you were around him.

| Special notes: not very necessary to the story but I imagine that Floyd was still there when they solved things up and he's like "oh for Ursula, get a room you two! gross! this? right in front of the school facility for everyone to see? disgusting, I'm telling mom" :P while they only smiled to each other bc he's that type of supportive brother lmao |

[dullgecko]

(Look, this was going to be a quick little thought about the aftermath of the goblin situation, but then my angst-loving brain got all excited. Oops?)

Once the whole "oops all goblins" ordeal is over, Riz definitely feels some kind of way about how the rest of the school treated his friends while they were goblins.

Had they all been turned into halflings or other small species, he was pretty sure there wouldn't have been anywhere near as much of a reaction. Sure, some people would have had the reaction of "Oh they're so small now, that's cute" but that would have been it because halflings are still much more respected than goblins are.

Instead, there had been a weird mix of "Oh that's so cute" and "Oh that's so weird" because obviously goblins ~are~ weird, but these little hybrid ones were also pretty adorable and that made it okay. Riz did his best to shield his friends from the worst comments, but he still heard and internalised every single one of them.

Aside from the occasional Helio kid, no one was outright racist towards the bad kids while they were goblins, and even the most racist Helio kids didn't physically hurt or threaten any of them. And that was good, Riz obviously didn't want his friends to get hurt, but he also knew why they were getting a free pass on things that he had been routinely bullied for and that hurt more than he cared to admit.

Him getting overwhelmed by light or sound was disruptive and something that he should just deal with. Adaine getting overwhelmed was met with sympathy and patience.

Him needing to bite things was gross and harmful and dangerous. Fig biting things was funny and cute.

His tail had been a target to step on and cause him pain. Kristen's tail was treated with utmost care, even when she tripped over it herself.

Him eating strange foods was disgusting. Fabian eating strange foods was cool and experimental.

Him being angry made him dangerous and monstrous while also not taken seriously because he was so small. Gorgug's rages were still taken seriously, no matter his height.

Riz knew that he was weird (practically everyone he met reminded him of that), but he had also grown up as one of the only goblins, and he was well-acquainted with the various forms of racism. Seeing his friends get treated so well really really hurt, because maybe it was just him that was the problem after all. (Later, with both of them crying, Fig would vehemently disagree with him about this).

So once it's all over, and Riz has had a chance to recover from the hypervigilance of watching 5 new goblins, he falls into a really bad dysphoria/dysmorphia/self-loathing spiral and he ends up with a whole clue board for all of the ways he has decided that he is Wrong based on the ways people treated his friends compared to how he is treated. He kept it hidden for a week or so, withdrawing more and more until he stopped talking with his friends beyond basic necessities, flinched away from any touch, and by the end of the week just fully stopped spending any time with them or replying to any messages.

That weekend, they all broke into his office where they found him just staring at an alarmingly cluttered clue board, surrounded by piles of even more "evidence", including extracts from old monster manuals describing goblins as dangerous vermin, old research papers that claimed that goblins don't feel emotions but use signals like tears to manipulate "actual people", and a hastily scribbled note saying that dominate monster had been specifically used on him and no one else.

Once the bad kids worked out what the board was, Fig confiscated and destroyed it while Adaine removed all of the other "evidence" Riz had gathered but hadn't yet added. There was then a very tearful and intense conversation about everything (or as much as Riz could put into words, which definitely isn't everything but is still a lot to be dealing with).

He begged them not to tell his mom about the board, and eventually they agreed, on the condition that he talks to Jawbone or some other therapist instead.

Not long after that, a lot of the outdated and harmful information about goblins mysteriously disappears from the school library. In an entirely unrelated event, a huge bonfire party is held at Seacaster Manor :)

(A couple of weeks later, Riz still isn’t doing well exactly, but he is doing a little better and has finally started accepting hugs again even if he has to fight against his brain telling him he shouldn't).

I love getting this kind of stuff its so juicy.

The whole 'his friends get treated well as goblins' thing definitely hits a nerve. Mostly because everyone who saw them at school knew who they were (they've saved the world several times they are lowkey famous except for fig and gorgug who are just famous famous). They're not real monsters they're just cursed/sick so they got a lot of free passes for things that Riz would never be able to do without putting himself in actual danger.

Plus, the whole situation with them being hybrids? Yeah, they were pretty. Riz wouldnt say cute because they were the same size as him and almost adults for fucks sake. It makes him wonder what the fuck is wrong with how he looks if he's constantly being told goblins are disgusting, but only if the goblins look like him apparently.

And hey, maybe he was just manipulating people by pretending to have emotions? More than one research paper was saying it, and right now he wasnt feeling much of anything. Had he ever felt much of anything? Maybe he was just tricking people the entire time.

[salty-croissants]

IK YOU'RE REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, BUT PLEASE I BEG OF YOU, NEW YEAR'S KISS. RAYMAN, RAMON, BULLFROG PLESSEEEEE

Thank you for the request ! Sorry it took so long -

I had the idea of doing this prompt right here for the New Year but ended up getting busy with other things and couldn’t do it in time , so I’m very happy I get to write for it now :D 

Hope it turned out okay ! 

Details : use of gender neutral reader ; 

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

< Can you believe it … ? A whole year just went by , don’t you feel like it didn’t last long enough ? > 

< Oui … 

Though time does tend to fly by a lot faster whenever I’m with you , mon amour ~ > 

You couldn’t help but smile in front of Bullfrog’s comment , wrapping one arm around him as the two of you sat on the rooftop , waiting for the fireworks to sign the end of that very chaotic , very crazy year :

so much had happened , you had made so many memories fighting with the Ghosts … both good and bad … but all of them with your beloved frog by your side .

You laughed together … you suffered together … you fought against so many dangers and deadly times , and yet the bond between you never faltered . 

You sighed , lost in your thoughts for some time , before Bullfrog excitedly pointed up … 

< y/n , look ! > 

And there they were : 

colorful fireworks filled the night sky , some of them big enough to cover the entire city in a sudden , bright burst …

As much as you hated Eden , you had to admit that they had prepared quite a spectacle .

< Wow … ! 

I gotta say , they really do look beautiful ! > 

< Mhm … c'est vrai ~ > 

You turned around to look at your boyfriend , only to find him staring at you with those adoring eyes you loved so much …

< Pfft - I meant the fireworks , not me ! ~ > 

< Heh , well I still stand by what I said : you have such lovely eyes , they shine way brighter than the fireworks tonight ~ > 

Bullfrog had a smug smile on his face , as always more than happy to see you blush in front of his compliments , but before he could add anything more you suddenly leaned forward to meet his lips with yours for an unexpected , loving kiss .

< … happy New Year , Bullfrog ~ > 

, you quietly whispered to him while pulling away to catch your breath .

The assassin stared back at you in awe , holding your face with both of his hands as the lights from above illuminated you both …

< Happy New Year … je t'aime tellement y/n , and I will love you always ~ > 

Rayman 🧡

< Woah - Ray , did you see that one ? 

It looked so cool ! > 

Rayman’s reaction to your adorable enthusiasm was a soft chuckle , the fireworks shining outside the windows of his lounge …

Since it was located at the very top of the Rayman Estate , you both agreed that it was going to be a nice spot to observe the sky and get a good view of the New Year’s celebration , and it had definitely been a good choice . 

You sighed , looking down at him with a smile while placing your hand on top of his …

< I’m so happy we get to watch this together , you know … ? 

Being able to spend time with you is always amazing ~ > 

You could see a faint blush appear on your boyfriend’s face , his free hand traveling up to tenderly caress your cheek .

< y/n , I … 

Heh , I honestly can’t even begin to describe just how grateful I am to be here with you . You’ve really changed my life my love , for the better .

I couldn’t ask for a better partner . > 

You leaned into his touch , and before you could even think of a response Rayman’s lips had already met yours , the colorful lights shining outside the only spectators to that sweet little moment of intimacy …

You were the only one who had never once judged him for who he was … the only one who had been by his side even in his worst moments , and to Rayman ? 

It meant absolutely everything . 

It didn’t matter if there were people out there who still saw him as a freakish monster despite of his fame , or if the Board of Directors overworked him almost constantly :

as long as he knew you would be there , he would be able to push through it all .

< I love you … I can’t wait to make more wonderful memories with you this year , my beautiful darling ~ > 

Ramon 🖤

While your view of the New Year’s fireworks wasn’t exactly the best , given that you and Ramon couldn’t exactly go outside freely with Eden’s watchful eyes patrolling every corner of the city , that didn’t stop you from enjoying it …

< Oh - I think one flew by pretty close to the window ! 

Man , they’re really giving their all tonight … > 

< Mhm … > 

You turned to look at your boyfriend , who was sitting on the living room couch with a … less than festive expression , and your gaze softened .

< Are you still feeling bad because I can’t watch the fireworks tonight to stay with you ? > 

He didn’t respond … he just released a long sigh while avoiding your eyes . 

< It’s … not just that , y/n . You know that . 

I hate the fact that you’re missing the chance to have a normal , happier life for … this . > 

He pointed at himself . 

< I just - you don’t deserve to suffer because of me , because of what I decided to do … it’s not fair , and I hate it . > 

While he was talking , Ramon didn’t even notice that you had approached him , sitting next to him before immediately locking him in a tight embrace …

You could feel his body momentarily tense under your touch , before slowly becoming more relaxed the more you held him .

< Ram , sweetie …

If I’m here right now it’s because I’m making the choice to stay , and trust me when I say that there hasn’t been a single time in which I’ve regretted it . > 

He slowly lifted his head to look up at you , each and every one of your sweet and caring words making their way into his heart …

He knew that you really meant what you were saying , and that was enough to make those worries he had go away , at least for a moment .

< I promise you this : this new year is going to go well for the both of us , I’ll make sure of th - >

Your sentence stopped the second you felt Ramon’s lips on yours , and as you kissed him back you felt as if the booms of the fireworks outside were becoming more and more distant …

He had you , and you had him , and that was all that really mattered in the end : 

no matter how hard they were going to try , Eden would never be able to make your endless love for your boyfriend go away . 

< Thanks , y/n … god , I really don’t know where I’d be without you …

Oh , and happy New Year my love ~ > 

[the-and-sign-anon]

The Third Independent: 7

Word count: 1,613

Series Masterlist

One Hundred-Fifty Years Post-Fall

Meryl, Roberto, and Vash were sitting in a saloon in a town a day’s drive away from the now destroyed Jeneora Rock. While there, they overheard a few men discussing a monster in the dunes. It had been spotted a few weeks before in the next town over and everyone was on edge because of it. Vash just groaned quietly and dropped his head back. 

“What’s got you all upset, Stampede?”

“Is it that thing those men are talking about? Have you ever seen it?”

“Not a thing. But they are what I’m thinking about.”

The two reporters shared a look, Roberto gave a little ‘go ahead’ gesture, and Meryl turned back to her new friend. 

“What are you talking about?”

“The ‘Worm Beast’ they’re talking about. They have it all wrong.” Vash sat back up and took a sip of his water. “They aren’t dangerous and they would never hurt anyone.”

“You talk about them like you know them personally.”

Vash shrugged. After more than a century spent exploring Noman’s Land, he knew to keep certain things to himself. And he just couldn’t risk saying too much about you without worrying that it could put you in danger. 

“I’ve met them before. They aren’t some monster. They’re not that different from me, actually.”

Roberto chuckled before sipping at his own drink. 

“You’re saying there are two naive, well-meaning, freakishly skilled weirdos with bad reputations wandering around this planet?”

Meryle lightly smacked his arm and kept focused on Vash.

“How many times have you met this person? If they aren’t what people say, then how did they get their reputation? Where did all these stories come from? And how old are they? These stories have been circulating for over seventy years-”

Roberto clapped a hand over her mouth, earning a fiery glare in response.

“That’s enough for today, newbie. I’d rather drink in silence now.”

Meryl rolled her eyes and stood to go get the group rooms for the night. Vash offered the senior reporter a little half-smile. 

“Thanks, Roberto.”

“Don’t thank me, that kid won’t ever shut up.”

Vash muffled his soft laughter with his glass. Roberto wasn’t about to admit it, but he didn’t mind Vash as much as he pretended to. Or Meryl for that matter. With the conversation successfully stopped, Vash didn’t have to worry about it any further that night. 

After Meryl hit Wolfwood with her car two days later, you drifted into conversation again. As the group drove through the scorching sands, Wolfwood shared a bit about his travels. He, of course, had encountered the fabled Worm Beast. 

“You actually saw it?”

“Swear on my life, shortstack. It had to have been something like eight feet tall. Glowing eyes, surrounded by Worms, the whole deal.”

Vash couldn’t help but chuckle at the mental image Wolfwood painted. You, in all your weird glory, enjoying a night with your little friends while unfortunately freaking out any passersby. 

“What, Needle-Noggin? You don’t believe me?”

Meryle snorted and glanced at the two men in her rearview. 

“Oh, Vash knows the Worm Beast.”

Wolfwood stared at him so hard Vash tucked himself against the window and looked out at the sand. 

“I said I’ve met them. And I have. They aren’t dangerous or anything.”

That wasn’t accurate and he knew it. Probably one of the biggest lies he could possibly tell. But you weren’t dangerous in the way Nai was. You didn’t hate humans, so you would never lash out at them without good reason. He did wish you were a little closer to him on the pacifism scale, but there was no changing that at this point.

“There’s no way something that big isn’t dangerous. How trusting are you, Blondie?”

“I’m not naive. I don’t trust people who don’t deserve it.” Vash took a steadying breath and tried not to get upset. “Just don’t talk about them, alright? You don’t know anything about them.”

Roberto studied Vash in the mirror. He wasn’t a tense or defensive guy, he’d seen that much. But this Worm Beast, whoever you really were, was clearly a sore spot for him.

The two went on bickering in the backseat for a while, only stopped by their arrival at the rundown rest stop. It was all action from there, with the bodies to bury and the fight with the Grand Worm. The argument in the car was not forgotten, but at least brushed aside for the time being as the whole group sat down to eat with a trio of bandits they met. 

Vash was subdued, but a little less so than the day before. He ate at least, but wasn’t too interested in talking at first. Meryl stuck next to him, ducking to hide behind him when Wolfwood tried to shove a chunk of roasted Worm meat in her face. Vash nudged Meryl into a sitting position, grabbed the meat from Wolfwood, and closed his eyes for a moment. He whispered a quiet thanks to the Worms, then dug in. Meryl opted to push aside the image of his teeth, too sharp and too many to be entirely normal, as they tore into the meat.

“What was that you said?”

Vash took his time chewing before answering quietly. 

“I was thanking the Worms. It’s because of them that we have food to eat. It’s only right to express appreciation for that.”

She looked contemplative for a moment. 

“Huh… I guess I never really thought much about that.”

Vash shrugged as he continued eating. 

“Most people don’t.” He barely whispered as his eyes studied the flames. “I might not have, if it weren’t for my Mayfly.”

Meryl wondered at the reverence in his tone. She couldn’t think of a time she’d heard someone speak that way. 

“Mayfly?”

She tried for an encouraging expression. She wanted Vash to open up, but if he backed out now, she’d leave it for another day. She could wait for him to take that first step if he wanted to trust her with it. 

“My Mayfly. My partner. I haven’t… I haven’t gotten to see them for a long time. To be honest, as difficult as it is to deal with the bounty on my head, I’m a little bit glad it keeps me moving. I can look for them better that way.”

“... did something… happen to them?”

Vash tossed the clean bone to the fire. 

“Not exactly. We both like to move around, we have for years. But we…” Vash had to tread carefully. He couldn’t put you in any kind of danger. “We had to go our separate ways for a bit. I think they might be searching for me too, especially if they’ve seen the wanted posters.”

Meryl winced in sympathy. She couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be separated from your significant other, only to discover in some worn down town that he had a multimillion double-dollar bounty on his head.

“What are they like?” Meryl curled in on herself, some part of her mind telling her to seem as non-threatening as possible. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

Vash looked a world away as he watched the flames. What could he share about you? What felt safe to share? What was he willing to share when he wanted nothing more than to keep you all to himself forever?

“They’re… strong. Strong willed, strong mind, just… strong. And they’re smart too. They just have this… particular way of looking at the world. Like it’s so much bigger than what humanity sees.”

He wished you could be here. Despite the messages you managed to send each other, it was rare that you actually got to meet up. He hadn’t seen you in over a decade; you had seemed so tired then, like you wanted to stop moving. But you’d only do that if Vash could stop with you. 

“If I didn’t have a bounty on my head, I think things would be different. I’d build them a home, somewhere they don’t have to leave behind.” 

It was like opening floodgates. He couldn’t think of anything but you, couldn’t stop himself now that he’d started. He described the life he wanted to give you, once he could finally settle down. Meryl listened thoughtfully as he talked about the towns he’d seen that he wished he could explore with you beside him. For an hour or so, Vash just got to… talk. About you, and your future together, and he wasn’t so afraid of it being used against him. 

Eventually, his words slowed and his eyes began to droop. Meryl nudged him and helped him to his feet, ushering him towards the truck to sleep. He certainly needed it. His dreams, as they often did, brought him to you. Images of a small, comfortable home where you never had to worry about anything again. 

Meryl tried to look out for Vash after that night. She couldn’t imagine how hard it must be to deal with everything he dealt with, so she just did what she could. She offered him food whenever she was certain he hadn’t eaten and made sure he knew she was a listening ear whenever he needed it.

After stopping the sand steamer, the group headed for Home. Vash barely managed an introduction before collapsing into bed. Meryl, as much as she wanted to investigate, agreed to sleep too, her exhaustion overtaking her before she could ask much of anything. For the first time he could remember, Vash slept at Home without you, leaving him more restless than ever. It just didn’t feel right. It wouldn’t, until you were back in his arms.