#lets get wild up in hur

[chronically-ghosted]

unintentional tumblr hiatus hopefully over 😮‍💨

back to what matters - horny old man smut

[cyberrose2001]

Under Pressure

MTMTE Rodimus x Reader

GRAHH SURPRISE!!!!

Relic and I have been... discussing... very hard about an ask they got a couple days ago so I wrote this eheh (THANK YOU FOR DISCUSSING THIS WITH ME AND LETTING ME WRITE THIS ILY)

Also please yell at me if I forgot any warnings!

Loosely based of this ask over on @callsign-relic's blog

Warnings: Human reader, Giant/Tiny, Dub-Con(?), Nocturnal emission, Crack fic(?)

Word count: 1,887

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Rodimus denies it every time, but he's a heavy sleeper. He snores like a congested rhino; he constantly sets twelve alarms that only barely stir him from his slumber. Despite being captain of the ship, his sleep schedule is far from tip-top shape.

And no, you're not a stalker. You're just Rodimus' observant little 'pet' human, always there, with a California king on his bedside dresser. Yeah, you're treated like royalty by an incredibly hard-to-deny hot alien robot.

So, as the ship ventured further into deep space and the nights got colder, you whined and begged to stay with him.

Rodimus was very hesitant to let you join him in the berth. As much as he cared about you and would kill an army for you, he didn't want to accidentally kill you, which was very much a possibility in any scenario on this ship. But he caved. You had mastered the sad, wet cat look, and Rodimus had the willpower of a rock.

Relishing in victory, you're curled up comfortably against Rodimus' lower plating for the third consecutive night in a row, warmed by the large servo of a sleeping giant. The entire palm of his hand covers your back in subconscious protection, and every so often, you feel a twitch of one digit. It's tranquility and a rare comfort, the touch of another you haven't felt since being on earth.

Until he rolls over.

Rodimus, choking on his snores, flips over onto his stomach and nearly tosses you off the berth if not for the grip he has on you. Despite almost winding you and making an audible 'Oof' sound, he doesn't wake up, his unconscious body assuming another comfortable position.

It takes you a few moments to register what the fuck just happened, but you realise that you're now underneath Rodimus. Almost his entire body weight is now pressed against you and pins you to the berth.

Oh god, you think to yourself.

This is less than ideal; this was not supposed to happen. How the hell are you, a tiny ass human, supposed to get out from under him? You probably shouldn't even be alive right now with how restricted your breathing is, not to mention how hard he flopped on top of you. But thankfully, with how Rodimus' legs have fallen into position, it leaves you with just enough room for your chest to rise and fall.

"God." You whine, muffled as your cheeks squish against his abdominal plating.

Your mind runs wild as you try to think of a way out. Maybe he'll just roll over again soon? God, you hope so; you can handle only so much weight, and Rodimus feels like he could hold down a cargo ship. Probably because he can.

But until then, however long that may be, you need to try something at least.

"Rodimus?" You try to wiggle but to no avail. He has you pinned pinned, and you use what little breath you have to yell out to him, "Hello? Are you awake or what?"

A loud, seemingly exaggerated snore replies to you. He's still deep in recharge, ruining any chance you have of waking him up yourself. You try to use your nails to scratch the surface of his frame, hoping it would tickle him or something, but that doesn't work either.

"Great." You roll your eyes, only you would ever end up in this type of situation. If only you had listened to Rodimus when he first said no, then you wouldn't be currently experiencing a near death experi-

"Y/n..." Rodimus' hoarse voice crackles above you, sending vibrations through your bones.

"Oh, thank god," You sigh in relief. You attempt to wiggle around some more, hoping to get his attention this time, "Listen, can you get off me now? This kinda hur-"

You squeak softly in pain as his sharp pelvis presses against you, and you hear your name again. This time, though, the tone of his voice came out as a whine, like a soft plea.

Because of where you were positioned before you became a pea under a princess' tower of mattresses, Rodimus' lower panels rested right against your stomach. This means you can feel his panels start to bulge slightly.

Oh no, you think to yourself bleakly once again. You're not sure how similar Cybertronian anatomy is to humans, apart from a crude explanation by an engex drunk Swerve. Still, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you're feeling him getting hard. Putting two-and-two together using two out of the five senses, you've realised that Rodimus is nearly boner deep in a wet dream.

And not to assume, but you're thinking that the star of the show is you.

It's also the wrong time to cackle to yourself about getting crushed by your crush.

You might have some issues to work out after with Rung.

"Oh fuck," You reasonably panic, trying to push against his heavy frame weakly with your pinned arms, "Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck-"

You start to thrash against Rodimus when your arms fail, your tiny body rubbing up against him. This doesn't help at all, you've come to realise but actually digs you in a deeper hole as he begins to rock his pelvis into you.

Rodimus moans your name again as he sleepily grinds against you. Whatever he's dreaming of, it must be an insanely hot pornographic fantasy of you. The bulge grows bigger, pining you down further into the berth. He shutters and lets out a soft groan before his plating shifts, and you feel a very thick, very hard, and very hot object slide up against you.

Oh god, it's his dick.

Swerve might not have told you all the details, but he seemed to conveniently leave out how fucking huge Cybertronian cocks are.

As if you thought this couldn't get any more debilitating, you now have the head of Rodimus' spike pressing against your face. It's as if the Alaskan bull worm had slithered up between yourself and Rodimus to give you a kiss. The behemoth of baggage has already started leaking what you would believe would be the Cybertronian equivalent to pre-cum, smearing all across your face.

At this significant turn of events, you've realised you have come to a crossroads.

Either struggle and continue to wiggle and wrangle your way out from under him, but risk pleasuring him, whether or not he could feel you squirming against him anyway with how small you are compared to it. Or, the more realistic and obtainable outcome, lie still and take it until he wakes up from an orgasm.

Who are you kidding? You don't have much of a choice at all. Both options risk you drowning in alien robot cum. It's wishful thinking as Rodimus starts to rut against your entire body again.

"Y/n..." He whimpers again, though very garbled and unintelligible. Every roll of his hips causes more pre-cum to dribble against your face and down your chest, and with each, it spreads all around in between yourself and his train-sized spike. Making an absolute mess of you.

If you weren't getting humped up against right now, you would indeed find a way to kill him for ruining your only set of pajamas.

"Rodimus-" You gag as a spurt of pre-cum falls into your mouth, "Guh- Rodimus stop-"

His work of venting increases, and so does his rutting. The comatose mech gasps and hitches his breath, oblivious to your cries and pleas for him to stop. He pushes up against you in heated desperation, fucking into your soft body like a grind pad.

"Rodimus! Wake the fuck up!" You start to heat up yourself; the increased pressure and friction of his plating will give you a fucked up version of carpet burn if he doesn't wake up. Sweat drips from your skin, adding even more lubricant to his incessant grinding.

"Wha- Oh, Primus!" Rodimus rears his drool-covered helm and cries out in equal confusion and unrestrained pleasure. He's woken up by his overload as he shoots his load up against you, flooding the minimal empty space left between you both with hot transfluid.

"Oh god-" You couldn't close your mouth in time when a spurt of transfluid hit you in the face, causing you to cough and spit it back out, only for more to splat you in the face.

Rodimus moans tiredly, shuttering violently as his spike pulses and leaks the remainder of his overload against the berth.

Or what he thought was the berth. Since when did he use a self-service mod on his spike? Especially when he shares a room with-

"Hey!" Cough, "Are you done?"

His optics slam open in horrific realisation.

"Oh no," Rodimus rolls over onto his back, his softened wet spike flopping against his abdominal plating, "Oh no, no, no..."

He looks down where he once lay, and his face plates flush a bright blue. Laying in a puddle of his transfluids was you, his little human, sopping wet with a highly unimpressed look on your tiny face.

"Oh Primus, Y/n," Rodimus scoops you up in his servos, gently tossing you from hand to hand as he wrings them off his transfluids, "I am so sorry, I- frag what was I thinking!" Rodimus babbles and holds you to his face, "Are you okay? God, I'm so stupid-"

"Ughh," You lay limply in his palm, exhausted and out of breath, "After that... I don't know anymore."

Rodimus hides his blush with a servo before pinching the bridge of his nose, "I'm glad you're okay, but what were you doing down there?"

"Great question," You lift your head up to deadpan him, then eventually drag yourself to sit up. Sticky, pink transfluid drips down your body. Your face, and hair, are all drenched in him, "It's not like you rolled over in your sleep and had me pinned for nearly half an hour. What the hell?"

Rodimus blinks, and his face turns a deeper shade of blue as he rubs the back of his neck, "Oh, so that's why I had that dream about you..."

Is he serious right now?

"Oh, you think?" You wipe your lip when it starts to drip into your mouth, "I think I could tell when you started moaning my name in your sleep."

"Well, you're just so tiny and soft and-" The red and yellow mech bites the knuckles of the servo not holding you in embarrassment. "But what was I supposed to do, huh? Hold it in?"

God, he is.

"I'm literally gonna kill you, Rodimus." You shiver, his transfluids cooling against your skin. You can't believe he dares to look you in the eye, "I am never begging to nap with you ever again, or maybe at least warn me next time."

"No offense taken," Rodimus nods in agreement for once, watching you wring your hair out, "I'm sorry, Y/n, I really am. I can help clean you up? As a sincere apology from yours truly?"

"As long as I don't come into contact with more of this stuff," You flick a bead of transfluid off your finger into his direction, "And you better be sorry, or it'll be a long time before I might actually let you fuck me."

"Wait, you'll what-" Splat, "EWUGH!!"

[joelscruff]

I have a prompt for you: Joel, reader and pillow humping. Do with this what you want 😁

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YES. (this is short and not proofread don't come for me) i'm also combining this with another request i just got: joel and reader with the sentence “you say it’s big but you take it. ride cowgirl.” from frank ocean pyramids😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 when i say this isn't proofread, i mean it!!! it's probably bad!!! i'm sorry!!!!!!!! i just wanted to write something lmao

you wake in the middle of the night with a fire burning in your tummy. you can barely remember the dream you just had but the lasting effect is evident as you shove your hand down under the blankets and feel your pussy, wet and sticky beneath your fingers. fuck.

joel is fast asleep beside you and you know better than to wake him; he's had trouble sleeping these past few nights and this is the first time in a while that he hasn't been tossing and turning. you don't want to deprive him of that pleasure.

but you don't want to deprive yourself of pleasure either.

you start to rub yourself, scrunching up your face in satisfaction as you give your clit the treatment it deserves, releasing some of that ache and pressure in your belly. but it's not enough; the angle isn't right, the feeling of your fingers. you don't like masturbating, not anymore, not since you met joel and he started keeping you more than satisfied almost every single day. touching yourself has lost its spark and after rubbing your clit for a few moments you realize it's not gonna get you where you need to be.

you sit up, being careful not to jostle joel too much as you grab your pillow and slide off the bed. you place it on the floor, watching from the corner of your eye to make sure he's still sleeping. then, with quick hands, you yank your panties off and settle easily onto the pillow, spreading your legs around it and kneeling on the floor. the coolness of it against your wet heat makes you bite back a whimper.

you dig your hands into the carpet, baring down on the pillow and letting the edge of it slip past your puffy and swollen lips. it rubs perfectly against your clit, foreign enough that it no longer feels like you're getting yourself off.

you turn your head to look at joel, lying there looking peaceful and relaxed as he sleeps through your sudden depravity. he's so handsome, hair grey and tousled against his pillow, forehead and jaw solid and firm, lips parted and slightly wet beneath his scruffy beard and mustache. a few hours ago he'd had that mouth against your pussy, suckling at your clit and fingering your hole until he'd made you come. you keep that image in your head now as you grind against the pillow, soft and supple.

it's only after a few more gyrations that you realize his eyes are suddenly open. you freeze, staring back at him and wondering what he could possibly think of you right now, crouched on the floor like some kind of wild animal while you fuck yourself against a pillow.

"what are you doing, baby?" he murmurs, not moving from his place on the bed.

"i don't know," your face is red but you start to grind against the pillow again, no longer worried about the whimpers bubbling past your lips, "i just wanna come."

he sits up in bed then, pulls back the covers and tugs his boxers down; he's already half hard from watching you, "come here, baby, sit on it."

you scramble up from the floor, leaving your wet pillow behind as you climb back in bed and crawl over to him, pulling yourself up and hovering over his dick. he holds it in place, watches you sink down on it with no preparation whatsoever.

"fuck," he groans, "what a way to wake up."

you're too distracted by the stretch of him to know what to say, squeezing your eyes shut and biting down hard on your lip as his girth stretches your hole. you regret not fingering yourself; why'd you have to go straight for the pillow? his cock feels good inside of you but the burn is almost too much.

"i should've prepped," you whimper, "it kinda hurts."

his brow furrows, "what? baby, why didn't you tell me?" he moves to pull out of you and you bare down on him quickly, shaking your head.

"no, joel, it's a good hurt. it's so big," you look at him with hazy eyes, feeling simultaneously half asleep and wide awake, "and it's getting bigger. fuck." you whine then, a high keening sound that has you wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning in closer, "oh my god, it feels amazing."

he holds you close and lets you get used to his size, growing larger the longer he's inside you. you've taken his cock countless times before but never without him fingering you first, and never when he was only half hard to begin with. the sheer size of him just continues to fill you up the longer you sit there, a deep groan emitting from your throat when he's finally at his peak size.

"oh, fuck," you moan, "okay, fuck me. fuck me." you suddenly feel frantic, lips against his ear as his hands find their familiar place on your back. he hears you loud and clear, immediately fucking up into you and giving you what you need. the head of his cock pounds fervently against your cervix and your eyes roll back, already feeling like you could come at any second.

"what's gotten into you, baby?" he asks between thrusts, gripping you tightly as he bounces you up and down, "you need cock that bad, huh?"

"yours," you whimper, "your cock, no one else's."

"needed it so bad you fucked a pillow," he groans, fucking you faster, "just had to have something touching that needy little pussy. absolutely shameless. does it still hurt, baby?"

"n-no," you shake your head, "doesn't hurt."

he suddenly stops thrusting, stills inside you and leans back against the headboard, "then you do the work for a bit, i'm tired."

"joel," you whine, pulling back to look at him, "that's not fair."

"you woke me up, baby," he whispers, the ghost of a smile on his face, "i was sleeping so good and you woke me up with your pretty little whimpers."

you pout, "it's too big," you're laying it on thick, hoping he'll come around, "i'm tired too, can't do it by myself."

he smiles, "it's not too big, baby. it's made for you," he reaches down and lands a playful smack against your ass, squeezing your cheek tightly, "now ride it."

it takes a few seconds for you to get back into a rhythm but before long you're pulling yourself up and down on his cock, loving the way it slides all the way in and hits the deepest part of you and then pulls all the way out. joel just watches you with sleepy eyes, squeezes your ass and smirks every time you cry out.

he knows when you're close, has seen that expression on your face and felt the way your pussy tightens around him too many times to not know what it means. he reaches down and rubs your clit, smiling when you moan his name and start twitching in his lap.

"there it is," he murmurs, "that's what you wanted."

you're vaguely aware of him finishing a few seconds later, coming inside of you without having to ask; he knows you want it. your legs are shaking when he pulls you off, lays you beside him and strokes your hair. you can feel yourself drifting off again but before you can fall asleep you feel him place his pillow beneath your head.

"but-" you start to protest, opening your eyes again and watching as he leans over you on the bed, reaching down onto the floor for the pillow you'd fucked yourself against only moments ago.

"shhh, go to sleep baby," he whispers, picking it up and placing it on his side of the bed, "i want this one."

[shanniees]

— ?̸ Stress

Warning : sex, this will be a short oneshot, Bruce dominant, oral sex, vaginal sex, fingering, spanking, tie dolls.

Synopsis : Bruce returns to the mansion after a stressful night being Batman and fighting crime, so he comes to you to relieve his stress.

Note : My English is not my main language, so please forgive me for any spelling mistakes.

the way your gummy and wet walls are gonna stretch to take him, the way you’re gonna tighten around him like a vice as he whines and whimpers when he pumps into you.

— "Fuck, shit, you're so tight" — He grunted, the thrusts were going faster, his movements were so strong that you couldn't help but moan loudly from the pleasure that was overwhelming you, your moans echoing throughout the room. You hope Alfred or Damian doesn't hear your loud moans.

How did you get to this? Your husband now fucking you like he was a wild animal in heat, well that was because because he came to the manor with stress, entering the batcave. He had just arrived from an investigation, he still has not solved the case, and there are more missing people, it is only known that there is a murderer on the loose out there in Gotham.

He arrived so stressed that he literally threw his mask on the table and left the Batcave, just saying one something to Alfred — "No" — and he went to his shared room where you were, his wife, he needed you now.

—"Bruce, y-you're going too fast" — You stuttered but your voice was silenced when his lips crashed onto yours, swallowing all your words and moans from you, his tongue sliding into your mouth, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan.You closed your eyes tightly, you couldn't do anything because your wrists were now over your head, tied with a scarf that he found in the room while he was fucking you.

— "Shhh, shut up" — he growled, his hand rose to slap one of your buttocks, you moaned loudly, arching your back upwards, you gasped, surprised by his act, you were blushing, small tears betrayed themselves in the corners of your eyes. — "Who is my little bitch, tell me? Tell me who you belong to" — He said while his thrusts were accelerating.

— "You! "I am yours my love!" — You moaned loudly as you climaxed, coming on his thick cock. Bruce smiled along with a moan of pleasure as he felt your walls tighten around his cock. He continued thrusting into you until he reach the climax.

He let out a grunt of pure pleasure, his fingers went to your center, gently rubbing your clit, you gasped and moaned, writhing beneath him as he pulled his cock inside of you.

Suddenly you felt Bruce's hand grab you, turning you back, leaving you on all fours and your pretty ass exposed to him, he couldn't help but give another spank towards that pretty ass of yours, making you moan. You opened your eyes, surprised to know what Bruce was going to do. — "Bruce w-wait that's going to hur-" — You couldn't finish the sentence when his cock slid hard into you, you screamed loudly as you felt his big cock in your little hole, it hurt a lot.

— "I'll make you moan my name all night" — He growled before starting to move.

[velvet4510]

I guess I’m one of those weirdos who so deeply feels the essence of an instrumental leitmotif from a film score associated with a particular character or couple, that I start associating said leitmotifs in my head with ANOTHER character from an entirely different film/book/series. And I’ve built up a whole library of leitmotifs for LOTR characters even though I ADORE Howard Shore’s original score for the trilogy. I consider these leitmotifs to be add-ons, NOT replacements.

Nor do I intend to completely disassociate all of these themes from their intended films/characters; some of them are perfect fits for the films they were written for. It’s just my mind going wild like usual. (But I admit, in some cases, the pieces are from films I dislike, and thus I would rather see these great songs associated with something of LOTR quality rather than what they were actually stuck with, especially when the lack of lyrics gives you the freedom to let the melody take you wherever it takes you, personally.)

In the case of Silmarillion characters and relationships, well, it’s a different story - it really is my attempt to cobble together what could be a hypothetical score, if it were brought to the screen. Obviously it’d never be this exactly, but I would hope a composer for a potential screen adaptation of The Silmarillion might be inspired by themes like these.

In some cases, the characters these themes were originally written for don’t resemble the corresponding LOTR characters very much, or at all. Also some of them have titles that by themselves could not be more different from and unfitting for Tolkien’s world. It’s just the melodies on their own, without context or even name, performed by these gorgeous orchestras, that have come to remind me of particular Tolkien figure(s).

I also have found lots of “love themes”, both romantic and platonic, for character relationships, as you’ll see. I’ve included romantic themes for canonical couples, as well as for pairings that I personally ship. I know Shore already gave Aragorn and Arwen a theme, but as I said, these are all extra additions and not replacements.

And yes I have a lot of Star Wars stuff in here, because I love Star Wars…but I love Tolkien more.

For the heck of it I’ll share some of these, with links to each song on YT. It’s hard to explain why I made these choices/associations, but maybe you’ll get it if you listen to some of them.

CHARACTER THEMES

The Valar = “Guardians of the Whills Suite” by Michael Giacchino

Lúthien Tinúviel = “Once Upon a Time in the West” by Ennio Morricone

Túrin Turambar = “Anakin’s Theme” by John Williams

Nienor Níniel = “Helena’s Theme” by John Williams

Frodo Baggins = “Romeo” by Nino Rota

Sam Gamgee = “Rey’s Theme” by John Williams

Aragorn = “The John Dunbar Theme” by John Barry

Gandalf = “Yoda’s Theme” by John Williams

Legolas = “Rose Tico” by John Williams

Éowyn = “Marion’s Theme” by John Williams

THEMES FOR LANDS/LOCATIONS

The Undying Lands = “Out of Africa” by John Barry

ROMANTIC LOVE THEMES

Frodo x Sam = “Love Theme from Ben-Hur” by Miklos Rozsa

Beren x Lúthien = “Love Theme from The Godfather” by Nino Rota

Faramir x Éowyn = “Han Solo and the Princess” by John Williams

Aragorn x Arwen = “Love Theme from Cinema Paradiso” by Ennio Morricone

Sam x Rosie = “Love Theme from Dances with Wolves” by John Barry

Bilbo x Thorin = “Andante Cantabile” by Bernard Herrmann

Thingol x Melian = “Indecent Proposal” by John Barry

Fingon x Maedhros = “Wuthering Heights” by Alfred Newman

Galadriel x Celeborn = “Central Park” by James Newton Howard

Finrod x Bëor = “Somewhere in Time” by John Barry

Aegnor x Andreth = “Love Theme from The Scarlet Letter” by John Barry

Finduilas x Gwindor = “Deborah’s Theme” by Ennio Morricone

Túrin x Beleg = “Midnight Cowboy” by John Barry

Mablung x Nienor = “Wanda and Vision” by Christophe Beck

Tuor x Idril = “Conversation Piece” by Bernard Herrmann

E��rendil x Elwing = “Tennessee” by Hans Zimmer

Elrond x Celebrían = “And Then I Kissed Him” by Hans Zimmer

Pippin x Diamond = “Love Theme from East of Eden” by Leonard Rosenman

Merry x Estella = “Love Theme from Rebel Without a Cause” by Leonard Rosenman

Elanor x Fastred = “Theme from A Summer Place” by Max Steiner (arranged by Percy Faith)

PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP THEMES

Elrond & Elros = “Brothers” by Hans Zimmer

Merry & Pippin = “Flying” by John Williams

Legolas & Gimli = “Rain Man” by Hans Zimmer

Boromir & Faramir = “Luke and Leia” by John Williams

Bilbo & Frodo* = “The Mother’s Love” by Miklos Rozsa

Sam & Elanor = “The Ludlows” by James Horner

I may add to this as I think of more, or even replace certain songs entirely if I come across a better match. Always return to the pinned post here to see the most recently updated list.

* Bilbo & Frodo’s melody is heard in the first minute of the linked track, 0:00–1:01, and again at 1:48. Also, the love theme I associate with Frodo & Sam starts playing at 1:03, making this whole thing fit all the hobbits even better.

[imawreck]

Escape

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x Original Character

Summary: Max continues to pursue her mission, and Wanda is intent on stopping her… no matter what.

Warnings: wounds, blood, gore, cursing, mental manipulation, most warnings from the other chapters as well.

Word Count: 3,548

Bucky-

"-Uck. Bucky!" 

I stalled in the hallway at Steve's sudden voice in my ear. "Steve? Why weren't you answering?"

There was a pause before he answered. "I think being down so far is messing with the Comms. I had a run in with Max. She headed up towards the second floor."

Hearing him set my nerves at ease, if only a little. "Alright, so we regroup and head up. The others are still up there. We can corner her."

"We could miss our chance and I don't want to risk it. I'm following her up. Whatever you do, don't go down the hall I took. She did something to the doors." 

The sound of metal wrenching open echoed from further into the building and I quickened my pace away from it and back towards the stairwell we had come from. "We're supposed to stay in our teams! Splitting up down here was a mistake." The groaning of metal was getting louder as I hustled down the hall. "Steve, just wait up. I'm almost to the stairwell."

"Bucky!"

My boots skidded to a halt as I whipped my head around. It hadn't come from the stairwell.

"Bucky, that's not me!"

Out of the darkness, I caught a glimpse of red, white, and blue. The silver star glinted in the red emergency lights as Steve hauled himself down the hall towards me. He looked like shit, an arm limp at his side as he tried and failed to kick up his pace towards me. 

I frowned at him, hurring over to throw an arm around him. "I heard you on the comms—"

He coughed, clenching his fingers around his side and pinching his face in pain. "That's the thing, it wasn't me." Steve took a shallow breath in, "Max stole my Comms."

It didn't make any sense at all. I had heard his voice, not hers. "That can't be right. I swore I heard you."

"I know what you thought you heard, because I thought I heard you too before she showed up and threw me into a wall. She used your voice to lure me in." Steve's eyes went wide and a little wild. "She can copy us like some sort of voice recorder.”

I stared at him for a long moment, letting his words settle in. "So... you're telling me that Max is the one on the Comms."

He nodded, "She's using my voice to get to you."

Like he had summoned her, Steve's voice trickled through my ear again. I stared at his unmoving face as I heard his words, "You said you were almost to the stairwell, right? What's taking you so long? If I run into her again, I can't take her on alone."

My breath caught in my throat as I tried to detect a difference between the voice in my ear and the one I had just heard from the very man in front of me. There wasn't one. With a shaky hand, I pressed my finger to my ear, "Max?"

There was silence that followed until a tired sigh filtered through the speaker. "Game's up, huh? Captain is more resilient than he looks."

My hand went clammy with sweat as my heart raced behind my ribs. I motioned for Steve to follow me as I shuffled as quietly as I could up the staircase. She could be waiting up there for us and Steve was in no shape to hold his own. I would have to be a buffer between them if she attempted to ambush us. 

Her next words had my blood freezing in my veins. I could practically hear the smile in her voice. "Somebody is coming to play, gotta go boys."

_____

Max-

Footsteps thumped in the darkness of the hall. It was more confined on the second floor, less places to hide and less room to maneuver around. They were coming faster, two sets. One pair was light, less weight to it and far too practiced to be anyone other than the Widow. The other was heavy, but restrained nonetheless. The archer.

An odd weight sat on my chest, roiled in my stomach as images—memories—flooded my head.

Slender fingers cupped around a shadowed jaw, lips against each other. The thought set my blood alight like fire. Orders rang in my head, 'Play with them.'

Handler didn't omit maiming, or killing. 

Knives found themselves a home in my palm as their steps grew closer. I had left the stairwell, pushed away by the need to put distance between the Soldat and I. Something about him unsettled me deeply. Being near him had my heart rattling abnormally in place and my limbs seemed to forget their practiced stillness. Like he was a weakness to this body.

At the first glimpse of red hair, I let loose a blade. The Widow barely had time to drop out of the way before it could bury itself in her head. The archer was quick to cover fire with arrows that sent smoke crawling up the walls. The scent of fire burned thick in my nose as I moved several paces back, putting distance between the target and myself. Smoke was a quick move, a smart one, but it stole their vision as well as my own. 

I heard a bowstring draw and waited until the arrowhead split the air before I made any move to avoid the oncoming shot. The arrowhead pounded into the concrete, burying itself into the cement six inches from where my side would've been. A nonfatal hit.

They weren't trying to kill. Their objective could only be capture.

"Any reason for the death-blade you tossed over here? It seemed a bit personal." Her fluttering feminine voice was laced with sarcasm.

"Maybe it was." The words forced themselves from my lips without my consent, and I shook my head as I tried to restrain any other words from spilling out. Having them all near was... confusing me.

"Maybe Max is still in there after all." The archer spoke this time, and I heard them shift behind the receding smoke.

I didn't offer up a response before I launched into a run, dropping low and sliding against the ground with the momentum. I kicked the archers legs from under him and snagged an arrow from his sheath, burying it in his thigh. His scream was harsh and grating as I shoved back to my feet just in time to avoid a kick to my sternum by the Widow.

Her fist crashed into my ribs quick and forceful, knocking the breath from me and jostling me enough to have me stumbling a few steps. She took the opportunity to get in a few more precise hits before a searing hot bolt of anger had me stepping into her space close enough to ram my hand against her jugular. She sputtered, clutching at her neck while I struck again at her knees. Her back hit the concrete hard and I craved to finish her off, but my chance was abruptly cut off as an arrow buried itself in my calf.

A scream tore through me as I clutched at the wound, baring my teeth at the archer with his bow still drawn. I took a short breath and tore it out before I pushed back to my feet. Loosing a pair of knives from my belt, I launched them both towards his legs. One caught his knee, slicing along the side deep enough to have him stumbling to the side with a grunt. I was on him in seconds with an uppercut to the jaw, laying him out cold on the bunker floor.

Before I could register the pounding steps behind me, a weight had settled onto my hips and a wire was looping around my neck. I forced my hand under the cord as I sucked in a shallow breath, backpedaling hard into the wall. The Widow grunted but her wire only tightened itself around my throat.

Panic began seeping into my bones as I struggled to fight with my depleting oxygen. I reached up, clawing at anything I could get my fingers on. My vision was getting spotty and in a few moments I would be either out or dead. Neither of those were my orders and the protocol instilled inside of me refused to allow me to fail. In a spur of fear, something triggered inside of me. I felt something along my spine shift, clicking into place and releasing a sudden pressure. The Widow screamed, her wire disappearing with her weight as she fell to the floor.

I dropped to the ground with her, scrambling away from her as I choked in air. I peered over my shoulder at her form laid up against the wall. Blood was painting her uniform in a dotted line straight up her torso. Her hands were pressed against parts of it to staunch the bleeding.

The clicking that happened right before she fell repeated itself, the muscles in my back tightening and pinching before a distinct 'shick' echoed through the corridor. My muscles eased once more and only the dull thrum of pain was left. The Widow looked at me with horror painted over her face as I shoved up from the floor and leveled out my feet, favoring my injured calf.

I moved over to her and she inched away from me in turn. My foot landed harshly on her extended leg, eliciting a sharp snap and her pained cry. "Follow and I'll kill you." It would be her only warning.

I turned sharp on my heel, heading for the stairwell to catch the two super soldiers. As I was about to round the corner, Iron Man's voice met my ears. "The Chairmen has evacuated the building and is awaiting his chopper. Any intel on Max?"

I stilled, calculating where the best place to land a chopper would be. Maybe the valley just before the building's entrance. It was the flattest terrain closest to the building, and the Chairman and his guards wouldn't fair well in the cold for very long. The longest it would take the chopper to land would be thirty minutes at the longest. 

I had thirty minutes to get to him.

_____

Wanda-

My fingers were stiff from the cold drifting in from the broken doorway. Vision and I had once again scoured the first floor for any signs of Ghost. Every room was checked and Vision found every nook she could hide in. There was nothing. She hadn't made it back up yet. 

All of the team had heard about Steve's run in with her and gauged their position based off of the words exchanged between the pair of super soldiers. They were somewhere between the second and third floor. I knew that Clint and Natasha had made their way to the second floor and hoped that they would somehow corner her and resolve this mission quickly. 

A part of me didn't want them to find her, though.

I wanted her to pay for what she did to my brother, for the life she stole from him and the pain she had caused me. He was the only family I had left and she took him from me. 

She deserved to pay.

I wanted to find her and pick her apart, find out what really happened in those memories of hers and find what made her tick. Then I wanted to snuff it out just like she had done to Pietro. My powers would allow me to.

They had grown in my bout of rage, done things I never even fathomed I could do. I could read people's minds and see what they saw. I could influence them too, make them do things to bend to my will. I was powerful, unstoppable.

The soft whisper of Vision passing through the wall in front of me drew my attention back to the reality of our situation. Ghost was somewhere below us throuncing around and causing mayhem and I needed to get to her.

"Vision," I called, "I think we should make our way towards the stairwell to the second floor. Maybe we can stop her from getting up here."

There was a moment when a flicker of thought flashed over his features and he nodded, floating down the hall towards the stairs. I followed him close behind.

"I know you are angry, Wanda."

My eyes snapped towards him and I couldn't help the bite that followed my words. "She killed my brother."

He nodded as if he understood. "She is under the influence of a serum. It was against her will."

"That doesn't make it any easier. Let me ask you something. You know how dangerous she is, the threat she poses just walking around. Do you think she should live?" We had stopped our trek toward the stairs in favor of looking at each other. I waited for him to say something, anything at all.

"Well," he paused, eyeing the wall besides me deep in thought. "Tony has the power and potential to be a very dangerous man. We all do, really. That's not far from asking if you should live even though you have the power that you possess."

I should've expected such a reply from him, but it didn't stop the brewing anger I felt writhing in my stomach. "Let's get moving." My heel spun on the pavement before I pushed away from him on my march towards the stairwell. 

I didn't get very far before I came face to face with a silver-eyed assassin.

She looked equally as concerned as I did until her haunting eyes snapped to something behind me and she took a couple steps backwards. The bolt of fear I felt at the thought of her fleeing had me sending a surge of power out and around the fallen doors and yanking them from their place down the hall and hurtling towards the empty hallway behind her. I aligned them with the hall and crammed them into place, the echo of metal scraping cement filling the air. 

Ghost didn't so much as flinch as she watched the dust settle from beneath them. Her eyes only shifted back towards me with a chilling steadiness. A hand came up to press against her side and for a moment her eyes dragged down to the bloody leg of her uniform and the small pool of red that had begun to collect under her boot. Having her injured gave us an advantage.

Vision still hovered at my side in silence, watching her every move. Ghost plucked a knife from her belt and sent it flying towards me, but it stopped short as my power stole its momentum and left it hovering mid-air. 

Ghost tilted her head, clicking her tongue, before she threw her body towards us.

I could almost laugh, really. She was closing in, barreling down the hall towards Vision and I at full speed, and all I had to do was wait for the right moment before I could deliver a blow. My powers itched to be released, whispering around my fingers and winding over my shoulders. Her feet pounded the ground a foot away from me, and I released a surge towards her in hopes it would knock her clear into the barrier I had created. I almost felt giddy at the thought.

That was, until her fist connected with my nose with a sickening crunch and pain erupted across my face.

Vision yelled my name, and a blurry image of his form flickered into view before a splotch of white whizzed by. He turned away from me and shot off down the hall. I pushed myself up and wiped viciously at the blood trickling down my nose.

Why hadn't it worked? How did she evade my powers? It was impossible! She should be smashed against the barrier doors!

Anger fueled me to my feet as I caught sight of Vision and Ghost down the hall circling each other. Ghost's eyes were wide and her jaw was clenched. She stood a little to the left, keeping her weight off her right leg which continued to bleed across the concrete floor. Vision shot forward and gripped the front of her uniform before he slammed her against the wall beside him. She struggled against him, clawing at his arms and chest, but it was no use. 

Her fist connected hard with his face, knocking him back a step and easing his grip on her uniform enough to give her other fist a chance to knock into the stone glowing against his red skin. Vision recoiled, blinking rapidly in a daze. She tried to shuffle away to escape down the hall, but he grabbed the back of her utility belt and pulled her to the floor. With her pinned below him, vision lifted his fist and smashed it across her left cheek, knocking her head to the side. Our eyes connected as she spit blood across the ground, anger lighting her silver eyes. 

My body stilled, vision tunneling in on her. Something akin to vines snaked across the floor, vibrant and blue. It wasn't until they inched close across the floor towards me that I realized they weren't vines at all. Much like my own power, the blue tendrils twirled and crawled as they reached towards me. I tried to move, to shift away, but I was locked in place. One of them curled around my leg and another sprung up to wrap around my waste and suddenly I was being lurched forward into darkness.

Complete, and utter darkness.

The tendrils of blue were gone and so was the floor and the chill of the mountain. It was quiet, eerily so, and my body felt like cotton. I turned, but I was met with more nothingness in every direction. "Vision?"

No one responded. My voice didn't even echo. The darkness just swallowed it up. I began taking hesitant steps forward in hopes that I would find a way out. I had no idea how I had even gotten here or where here was.

I walked for several minutes until something cold caught my foot and sent me stumbling a few steps. I twirled around, spotting a cold metal handle protruding from the ground. A withered wooden door was attached to it and it groaned as if a weight was pressing up against it. 

Something about its appearance sent a chill running up my spine. It was the only thing I had seen other than pitch blackness for several minutes, but something about it wasn't right. The wood groaned again, and a cry resounded from behind it muffled by the surface. I dropped down beside it as I heard it, pressing my ear against the rough exterior and willing my hearing to catch it again.

And it did, soft and pleading.

I wrapped my fingers around the handle and pulled hard, yanking against whatever force held it in place. It took a few tries before it snapped open and I hauled it to the side, peering into more darkness below. But the cry came again in the form of a scream. With the door out of the way, I could tell it was from a child. Their voice was high pitch and filled with fear and sobbing.

"Please," it cried, "it was an accident! I didn't mean to Commander, please!" There was a harsh thump and the child wailed louder.

 I clamored down, my heart pounding in my ears. Why was a child here? What on earth was happening?

I pushed my arms out, fumbling around in the darkness. There was another door illuminated by a single lantern hung on the wall. It looked old and weather worn, barely clinging to life as the flame fluttered inside it. The handle was cold under my fingers as I swallowed, hesitating to open it. "Hello?"

I didn't have to pull for the door to open this time, it opened on it's own. I was thrown back by the force of it, colliding with the floor as it swung open and crashed into the wall beside it.

Screams filled the air, thousands of them, in a cacophony of noise that slammed into me. Hands reached out from the doorway covered in blood and grime as they clawed towards me. A whip cracked from somewhere beyond them in the darkness and the child continued to wail in the chaos of all the noise. 

I covered my ears, overwhelmed by the sorrow and horrors that began pouring out of the doorway. I couldn't shut my eyes in time though, not before a body fell out of the frame and flopped to the floor beside me. My eyes were drawn to his familiar face, to the blonde curls sprouting from his head and the smooth shape of his nose. 

Pietro.

But his eyes were grey and empty, and his body was limp as black blood pooled out of the wounds he had died from. It colored the bottom of my boots and spread across the floor towards me. I shoved away from it, mortified by the sight of his dead body here of all places.

And I screamed.

Tags<3

@blackbirdwitch22 / @greatmistakes / @greatenthusiasttidalwave / @cjand10 / @hzdhrtss / @calwitch / @imdoingathingmom / @readawaythereality2

[kpeverlyfiction]

Before the Dawn: Ezra Talon RO POV

Ezra sat in a quiet tavern in the late night. He was nursing his second mug of mead. He could hold his drink fine due to his size. Ezra stared down into his nearly full mug as if the answers would somehow be at the bottom of his drink. He pushed his drink aside, he was tired of posturing. It was part of his job.

He had received a tip from an anonymous informant that his next mark would be here at this tavern. He had been here at the time he was given. But no one even remotely close to his mark ever showed.

Ezra leaned back into his chair as his blue sleeves on his simple tunic were pushed up. He had discarded his cloak and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander something he rarely every does.

As an assassin and one of the higher ranking Red Scales, an elite assasin's guild in Solara. He rarely let his guard down. But tonight, without his mark in his sight he just decided to let go for just a moment.

Of course he never had his back to the door, always swept the perimeter of the room out of habit. He rarely slept. He did not like to sleep. With sleep came the dreams...the face...the voice...the laughter.

Your face.Your voice. Your laughter. Everything Ezra ever loved about you...but just as soon as the dream was there...it was gone. Ezra sat up in his chair quickly as the wooden legs of the tavern chair hit the wood floor with a hard bang. He had let himself become too relaxed.

Luckily the tavern was mostly deserted save for Gev the tavern owner. Gev Gevshin was a middle aged balding dwarf with a red long beard and a proud demeanor as all dwarves tend to exude. He and his elven wife Evira had moved with their three boys and another on the way.

Ezra knew all about the Coals district. Most dwarves resided there in the undergrounds of Solara. It was cooler but it was becoming derelict and most dwarves were moving their families out of the Coals for fear of collapse.

Gev being one of them had moved him,Evira his heavily pregnant elven wife and three young boys to the surface. He had saved enough coin to be able to afford to get out of the Coals. Now mostly it was just penchants and dwarves holding onto their old traditions who still resided there.

Rumors had flown like wild fire across Solara to every district. The Blood Red Dawn was coming. Some doomsayers were saying. Some believed it but others did not. But Solara was not the same as it had been when Ezra was growing up with you...

Ezra still brooding as you would call it if you were here, was pulled back into his thoughts. Despite the chair incident, he had not even heard Gev approaching, which was very rare for someone to sneak up upon the second in command of the Red Scales Assassin's Guild. One of the top assassin's guilds in Solara.

Ezra had worked hard for years from the bottom up to become Anders, the Golden Scale and guild master of the Red Scales, Silver Scale. Second in command of the Red Scales. Anders was the guild master of the Red Scales but not even Ezra knew much of what his superior's life was like before establishing the guild. And as the Silver Scale (second in command,) he knew better than to ask.

Gev knew Ezra as a long time patron and friend. Ezra had not outright told him what he did but Gev was not stupid. He had been around the Hell's Rise district long enough to know the shady and sketchier parts of what people did to survive in Solara. He knew what Ezra did was not good. But he liked Ezra well enough and did not mind Ezra spending his off days at the Boot and Shine.

Ezra still was unsure of how the tavern received its name sake. He suspects it had something to do with Gev’s wife,Evira, who influenced the name. She always wanted everyone's “boots to shine" before they step into her tavern.

“Gah! Gev! By the name of Sul, I insist you do not sneak up on me as such. Unless you want a blade to the throat. " Ezra says, his heart pounding in his ears. Of course Ezra would never hurt let alone kill Gev. Despite the older dwarf initially heckling him he enjoyed his company. And Gev was one of the few people that had broken through Ezra’s stony exterior.

Gev just laughs a hearty laugh as he takes a sit across from Ezra. He looks at the young man with a twinkle in his warm brown eyes.

“Looks like the mighty Silver Scale is not as good at his job as his reputation would make him seem." Gev chuckles

Ezra’s deep blue eyes stare up at Gev as he studies the older dwarf carefully.

“How did you find out?" Ezra’s deep voice rumbles quietly echoing only in the silence of the empty tavern. Ezra is very alert now jolted out of his reverie as his fingers twitch for his spear.

“ Easy there Ez. No need to get feisty. It does not take a clouding to figure it out. “ Gev chuckles (clouding is a nickname for a young upset child. Solarans use clouding because it never rains on Solara or has not for ages.It became a slang term in Solara.)

Ezra eases slightly. He should have figured that Gev of all people would know. Gev is established in Hell's Rise, a more prominent and upper societal part of Solara. The Boot and Shine was a regular watering hole right in the middle of the inner district. Ezra had started frequenting there for his more lucrative contracts.

“Would you like to talk to your old friend Gev about what's on your mind Ez?" The dwarf prods gently.

Ezra stares into the still full second mug of mead to take a moment to compose himself. He is not used to being this way. This open, this vulnerable. He spins the mug in his hands as he continues to see his deep blue eyes staring back at him. A boy no longer. An assassin. Someone whom had no heart. Someone who he lost his heart to10 years ago…

“ It's (MC) again isn't it?" Gev asks more gently than his normal boisterous self.

Ezra nods solemnly as he takes a sip of his mead before pushing his mug away.

“I cannot help it Gev… (MC) was my best friend, my partner in crime, and I fell harder and harder for (MC) each day. Today marks 10 years since (MC’s) disappearance…” Ezra says his voice strained which was unusual for the usually stoic assassin.

Gev sighs. He looks at the young man sympathetically understanding of his plight.

“Listen Ez, it's been 10 years son. 10 years without a trace of (MC.) Do you not think it might be time to move on? You're a good looking, kind, young man. Apart from the fact that you kill people for a living.” Gev mutters under his breath.

This warrants a small smile from Ezra. He takes a moment to think over Gev’s words. He knows Gev is right…but for 10 years …he has not stopped looking for you. He cannot. He will not stop searching for you. What happened to you? Where did you go? Why? These words haunt Ezra day in and day out. He has not given up hope. That somewhere out there, in Solara, in the universe you still exist.

He has to believe you would not just vanish without a trace. Without a word to him. Your best friend since you were kids. He has never stopped looking for you. The night you disappeared….the night of your birthday… Ezra had made his way to the usual spot you and he would spend on that same hill. Every birthday at midnight. Just you and him alone watching the stars. Dreaming of something else out there in this world.

Dreaming of traveling together, making plans together, hopefully becoming something more than just friends. That's when the memories come flooding back. Memories that Ezra had tried to bury deep inside the darkness that looms inside him. But in that moment the tavern disappears, Gev is no longer there. Ezra is transported back into a memory he thought he had long burned….but in that moment he is taken back to that fateful night. The night that changed everything for Ezra…

That night Ezra had made up his mind. He was going to tell you how he truly felt…that he was in love with you. As he made his way towards the hill the air was cool for once on Solara. The night was clear and beautiful. The night air was still and quiet. Ezra had paced nervously back and forth in his small village hut…he had rehearsed for hours on end what he was going to say to you. How he was going to say it.

The hours ticked by slowly till it was time to go. He had quietly left his house as he kept rehearsing in his head the words he was about to say to you. The words that could change everything. You and he had been dancing around the feelings you both felt for months now…now Ezra was going to finally do something about it.

He had picked a sunrisa ( a beautiful glowing yellow flower that was so exquisite that at night it would bloom and glow like the sun. It was your favorite flower.) Ezra began to make the climb towards your usual meeting spot. His heart was pounding in his ears, his palms sweaty as he tried not to grip the flower too tightly. As he reached the top of the hill he took in a deep breath as he made his way towards the spot you usually already were there waiting for him.. He expected to hear your voice, your laugh like music in his ears, your smile as if Sul were blessing you himself.

But he stopped and paused. He did not see you anywhere. That was odd considering you always were the first to show up. Ezra had an uneasy feeling in his gut…something did not feel right. He spun around on his heels still gripping the sunrisa, as he looked in every direction calling your name only to hear his own voice echoing back at him. As if some kind of sick joke. His stomach dropped, chills ran down his spine as he sprinted down the hill as fast as his long legs would carry him.

He ran up and down the street of your small village. He ran into the neighboring aristocratic city. He ran and ran not caring about the pain in his ribs, his lungs aching for air, his voice hoarse from calling your name. He probably looked and sounded like a lunatic and probably woke some people up. It mattered not. He kept running and running each moment intensifying his desperation to find you.

Finally as dawn began to rise, he finally ran to your house hoping against all hope you would be there….hoping that you would open the door like you always did and greet him with that smile that even Sul himself would think was the most beautiful smile in all of Solara. He knocked and waited. He knocked and eventually began pounding on your small hut’s door. He was calling your name desperate. But when no one answered. Not your parents, not you. He finally got up the nerve to peek through a small window of your hut to see if anyone was inside.

Gone. Nothing. No one or anything was in your now empty hut. Ezra ran around the small hut looking for any clue but finding none, he decided to take drastic measures. He easily kicked open the wood door as it splintered and went flying across the room. He could hear nothing but the heavy breathing coming from his chest, the blood roaring in his ears. As his adrenaline came in waves pumping throughout his veins.

The exhaustive state he had felt dissipated as he began to search for any sign of you or your family. There was none. Not a trace. You were gone….the sunrisa flower fell to the ground as the sobs came in waves. Ezra dropped to his knees as the tears fell from his eyes like a dam breaking. The sobs racked his whole body as he shook and the aching pain was too much as his voice hoarse from hours of calling your name, the heart wrenching wails echoing through the now empty hut…. With the realization that you were gone.

What was worse was that Ezra had no idea where you had gone too. No note. No secret messages you used to write to each other. Nothing. Gone. As if you vanished out of thin air….

As the memories faded back into the recesses of Ezra’s mind and he was brought back to the present. Back to the empty tavern with him clutching his fists as he felt the tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Fuck. He thought to himself. Assassins do not fucking cry. Especially the Silver Scale of the Red Scales Assassin's Guild. He reprimanded himself.

“Kid, are you alright?" Asked a concerned voice. It took Ezra a moment to remember who he had been speaking with before he was…before he was pulled back into his unwanted memories. Ezra looked up out of his reverie to remember he had been speaking with Gev at the Boot and Shine tavern. His mind seemed to wander a lot these days. Which was unlike him to say the least. He could feel his mask slipping.

He could feel the vulnerability that he masked so well. The memories he made sure were locked behind doors never to escape. Buried along with memories of you. Memories he refused to relive, talk or even think about. But here he was once again for the third time that day slipping. Slipping into the abyss he refused never to go to.

“Yeah Gev, sorry I got lost somewhere in my memories. " Ezra replied putting back on his carefully masked stoicism.

“ I would say so. " Gev replies, looking Ezra up and down, not at all convinced he is fine. “ You were somewhere lost in Solara for a good 10 minutes. I could not seem to snap you out of whatever was holding you back. Are you sure you're ok kid?" Gev asks once more his protective fatherly instincts kicking in. “Because you look like shite and smell like it too." Gev says giving a small smirk. “You know you're always welcome to stay for the night in the inn. Why don't you stay Ez?" Gev suggests gently.

As expected Ezra shakes his nod no and politely declines as he stands up rising to his full height. He begins to put on his midnight blue cloak and wraps it around him as he straps his bow to his back and picks up his spear.

“Thank you for the offer Gev. " Ezra says as he finishes packing up his things “but I really need to find out more about this person or Anders will feed me to his hell hounds. Tell Evira and the boys hello. I'll be seeing you.” Ezra says as he makes his way to the wooden heavy doors of the tavern.

" Alright kid. Stop by whenever you can. You're always welcome here. But hey take care of yourself alright? “ Gev says as he walks Ezra to the door. Ezra simply nods and waves as Gev watches on in fear and concern. He cares for the young man. Like another son. He just hopes that whatever is stewing at the bottom of the pot won't consume Ezra.

As Ezra mounts his black stallion named Phantom, he pats his horse who is almost exactly like Ezra in personality. Except he is a horse. Ezra pats Phantom’s neck gently as he says to his horse soothingly in a deep rumble.

“ Let's go boy. Let's see what mischief we can cause today. " And for just a moment Ezra lets a small smile form on his face as he gently kicks Phantom's flanks and nudges him into a trot.

Before Phantom picks up speed to a steady gallop Ezra spots a beautiful sunrisa blooming that night. The same night on your birthday when you disappeared 10 years ago.

As Phantom gallops on at a steady pace, Ezra stares into the night sky as he silently vows to himself,

I will find you (MC.) You have my heart and I do not want it back until you're safely back in my arms. I will stop at nothing to bring you back home. To Solara. To me. Keep my heart safe. Everytime it beats, it beats for you.

[goatakiart]

Please don't forget me (Part 2)

(Mirage x Reader)

Art by me 🥰

Warning! (Adult themes, triggering topics, blood, alcohol etc.)

A month has passed

Mc could befriend Mirage in the end, he accepted to be in her squad and everything was fine at first but they had some conflicts...

The battlefield is going wild, the sun is hot and their lives are at stake all over again. Mirage wears a painful expression, his clothes ripped and dirty and his hair messy, strands falling all over infront of his face, hastily he is closing the door behind him where he has trapped mc inside, she yells at him conflicted "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING???",she bangs at the door till her hands bruise, while on the other side of the door, Mirage falls down, you can only face his back from the glass of the door where he now rests ,he is groaning and sweating in agony while holding tight on to himself, she can see blood trailing on his clothes, all while an enemy team is fighting nearby, she tries to convince him to let her out but no use, his breathing is heavy and his eyes are losing focus, unable to hear mc's voice anymore.

She frowns and gets up in steady, heavy movements as she's mumbling angrily, taking off her jacket, "MOTHERFUCKING DOOR!!!" She screams at the top of her lungs as she suddenly raises her leg to kick the barrier between her and Mirage. He falls down from the force together with the door, he whispers to her not to go, her furious stare is piercing him, she feels the urge to murder him herself, however she choose to ignore the anger at this urgent moment. Everything is loud, explosions are heard and the smell of blood and gun powder is making her feel dizzy, anything is barely seen beyond the smoke and the strong sunlight, she kneels down to Mirage and caress his hair away from his face, he gives her a pitiful look as he's unable to move and stop mc from fighting, "You're really cute when you can't get in my way." She smiles at him seductively and slide her hand lower to his belt, his cheeks flushed, "Wha--", the moment doesn't last long, he couldnt finish his sentense as he realized mc actually stole his gun, her smile now is turned to a grin as she gets up and stands in front of Mirage's collapsing body, "Let me handle this." She takes both weapons on her hands, she shoots maniacally towards the enemies, nothing is clear through the smoke, a grenade comes their way, a second of silence falls between him and mc, she panics for a moment looking around but having no time she decides to kick the grenade towards the enemies and shoot it without hesitation before it explodes on her face, blasting everyone away from them. He definitely thought she's cute but now she seems a bit scary. "Not bad right?" She turns to face him proudly, he shakes as he can barely move and does thumbs up with an awkward smile then passes out from blood loss.

The next day

Mirage was taken to the hospital for treatment, Mc sat next to him, waiting for him to wake up, brought him some snacks, and placed a glass of orange juice on the table. She is not surprised at all and looks rather annoyed, not because she doesn't care, but because he keeps trying to play the human shield every time they are on the battlefield. This has happened four times already in a whole month. "Unacceptable..." she mumbles. When he finally wakes up he raises his head, knowing exactly where mc sits thanks to the frequency of these accidents, he's awkward about the whole situation and tries to smile but he finds himself hurting even with that simple gesture, she doesn't even turn her head from her phone, just sitting and playing a game, "The meds are doing this, the doctor said all your muscles will be stiff for awhile, you luckily didn't break any bones again, you just hit your head, leg and you had a small internal bleeding, it stopped immediately after the shots the nurses gave you." His expression changed, he's thoughtful, he opens his mouth to talk even tho it hurts, but he'd rather not stop."I'm sorry." She raises her head slowly radiating a threatening energy as she puts the phone down, she tilts her head to stare at him in anger and he knows why "It's not that I don't trust you, you know that right?" He makes an attempt to calm her down, but her expression remains cold, she replies to him, not moving an inch "But I don't trust you. I can fight, you can fight too, then why do you make our survival chances thinner and thinner? You're not a shield, Mirage, and I'm NOT gonna die if that's what you're scared of." She gets up and walks up to him. She leans on top of his head, placing her arms on the sides of the bed, "Why are you doing this? The others won't tell me anything, and you just avoid having this kind of conversation with me, I didn't know you're a coward." She let go of the bed, straighten her position, preparing to leave, but in her surprise, Mirage grabs her arm pulling her back in, thanks to the force now their faces are inches away from each other, the room suddenly feels hot, they stare at each other unable to talk, he finally tries to make a move "Y-you're right. Thank you for coming to see me again." He smiles innocently, her eyebrows frown in embarrassment as her cheeks feel warm, but she moves away before he notices "Of course I would, you're my squadmate." She throws the snacks at him "Get well soon. We have a drinking party in a week." Now she walks out of the room and closes the door behind her, stopping to relax on the wall outside his room. She feels her heart flying out of her chest. "This fucking idiot, I swear..." She mutters as she walks away hastily to meet the other legends outside the hospital.

[empressaraceli1992]

So, we've all read one-shots or parts of stories where Ghost reacts violently to a nightmare, and (depending on the writer) usually stops before any real damage is done. I.e. knife to the throat, punch to the face nothing broken or irreparable harm done. So what happens if Ghost DOES hurt the person? Badly.

You knew what it was like to have nightmares. You knew the horrors that you faced everyday did things to your mind. So when you heard the low keening of someone fighting a nightmare, you didn't think twice. Slipping out from beneath your warm blanket you padded over to the suffering party.

To your surprise - though it really shouldn't be considering the man went through the same hell you did day in and day out - it was Ghost who was keening. Ghost was not a fan of being touched when conscious, there was no telling how he would respond unconscious. But you knew, sap that you were, you could not let him suffer alone. Gently, oh so gently, you lay a hand on his back.

Three things happened in very quick succession.

Ghost whirled -

A flash of metal -

Pain, oh God the pain! -

Ghost buried at blade into your left shoulder between the bones. You gasped. You knew he didn't mean, knew he didn't want to do, but God it hurt. You could feel blood gushing down your arm. Ghost's wild eyes bore into you. You feel like you're going to puke, but you know if you move wrong he will kill you.

Breathing carefully through your nose you loft your right hand, slowly, to Ghosts. Wrapping your fingers around his wrist you speak to him in a soft voice.

"Simon, it's me. It's _____." You rub your thumb across his wrist. It takes a moment, several minutes in fact for Ghost to calm down enough to see you. When he does his dark eyes go wide in horror.

Shit, no he cannot panic right now.

"Simon, Simon look at me." He's shaking. "Simon, come on you've done training for this." You soothe him despite the growing dizziness. "Come on, access the damage. Is the wound life threatening?"

Ghost examines your injury, carefully letting go of the hilt of the blade he places his fingers on either side of your shoulders.

"N-No." He sucks in a deep breath through his mask. "It's clean, between the bone, no major arteries have been hit."

"Good." You run your tongue across your lips. Why were you so cold? "Is it safe to remove the blade?"

Ghost nodded, but he made no move to pull the knife out. "We need to get you to medical."

"Am I stable enough?" You argue, careful to keep your voice level.

"Yes...if I hurry." Ghost scooped you up, apologizing when you hiss in pain, and sprints to the infirmary. "Stay with me___. No don't close your eyes."

You wake up, alone, three days later. The doctors inform you that you almost bled out on the way there despite no major arteries being hit - your attempt to soothe Ghost nearly cost you your life.

Not that you minded. You you would do it again. If it meant saving him, and ultimately someone else from him. Price had his hands full trying to avoid disciplinary action for Ghost.

You tell him there will be none, you're fine, and Ghost didn't mean it. Ghost, who sat in Price's office pale, and obviously exhausted looked at you funny. You pat his shoulder and ask him to come speak to you later.

When he arrives in your room sometime later you tell him to lay down. He does, confused, wondering if this is his punishment. You curl up next to him, your left arm draped carefully over him.

"Sleep, you need it."

"I don't want to hur-"

"You won't." You assure him. "You didn't before."

He snorts angrily gesturing at your bandaged shoulder.

"You want to make it up to me?" He nods. "Shut up and sleep. You need it, I need it, we'll deal with the rest later."

[heliads]

Can I request a Peter Pan imagine? Based on the pic of what I wrote

i don't write for OCs anymore so i just made this a y/n fic, but i really liked this one so i hope you enjoy!

masterlist

The night is getting to you again. You’ve felt it in the recent months, or even in the recent years, this all-encompassing wave of grief for a family you never had, but it seems to hit especially hard once the sun goes down. None of this is really your fault, of course, and there’s nothing you can do about it, but still. There is something horrid in knowing that your mother was the Evil Queen Regina, a woman who could handle any spell or challenge that came her way except her own daughter. 

You suppose you should be grateful that you’re not dead. She tried to leave you that way, anyway, had her guard leave you out in the Enchanted Forest unprotected the day you were born. You ended up surviving by pure coincidence, taken home by a farmer and his wife who didn’t really want another mouth to feed but could use a strong set of hands when you grew up. To this day, you don’t know if you’re glad they found you or not. Perhaps it would have been better to fade into that forest as an infant, to let the dark greens and murky shadows take you away. 

Now, however, you don’t have that choice. Whatever glimmer of appreciation the farmers may have had upon seeing you for the first time has quickly faded. They thought they were getting a workhand they wouldn’t have to pay, but instead, they got a witch. 

You are, after all, still your mother’s daughter, even if you don’t know how that’s supposed to shape you. You’ve been careful to keep your magic under control, but it just adds another set of chains tying you down. You don’t know how your mother felt when she looked at you for the first time, but it must have been something like how you feel now, as if she knew then and there that she would never have an ounce of freedom again. 

Tonight, you escape the cluttered, cramped farmhouse and retreat to the very edge of the farm, where the carefully cultivated rows of crops meet the wild, untamed forest. You stare into its depths as if expecting to see someone staring back at you, yet it still comes as quite a shock when you do. 

You blink hard, but when you open your eyes again, the boy is still there. Now, he’s smirking as if pleased that he’s startled you. He glances around, then gestures for you to follow him into the woods. It’s a terrible idea, certainly, but you do it anyway. 

The boy is waiting just a few yards within the limits of the forest, leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree. In the shadows of the night, his eyes seem just as sharp a green as the grass beneath your feet. 

“You came,” he says almost proudly, “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

You fold your arms across your chest. You may be talking with him, but that doesn’t mean that you have to trust him. 

“I was curious. It’s not every day that you find some strange boy in the woods.”

His smile deepens, although you’re not sure that what you said was a compliment. “I have a question for you. Do you know who I am?”

You tilt your head to the side, considering this. “Seeing as you’ve gone out of your way to ask me, I’m assuming it’s someone important.”

The boy chuckles. “I’d certainly like to think so, yes.”

You raise a brow at his comment. “I don’t know. Who are you?”

The boy leans idly back against the tree. “You’re not even going to try and guess? I have to say, I’m disappointed.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Why do you care? You don’t even know me.”

The boy grins, and his teeth flash in the moonlight like blades. “Ah, but I do. Your name is Y/N L/N, and you live here with people who aren’t your true parents. Your real mother is Queen Regina, and you’ve inherited her magic. I can keep going, if you like.”

You back away from him. “Whoever you are, I’d suggest that you leave me alone. I don’t know what you want with me, but you aren’t going to get it.”

The boy rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you, obviously. If I wanted you hurt, you’d be dead.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?” You ask. “Because it’s not really working.”

He seems proud of that. “I’m not typically one to reassure people. Either you trust me or you don’t, that’s up to you. If you want to, you can leave right now.”

You certainly could. It would be quite easy to turn back around and return to the farmhouse. You’re not even sure that your adoptive parents would notice that you’d left. That, however, is exactly why you stay. 

“So you know who I am, and you have to emphasize the fact that I have magic. Can I guess that means you have magic, too?” You ask.

The boy looks pleased that you’re responding. “You can. Is that your answer?”

You consider this a second longer, then nod. “Yes. You’re a boy who can use magic, someone who likes messing with other people’s heads. Is life a game to you, then, that you can go up to whoever you want and expect them to play along?”

He nods. “Precisely right. If you want a name, you can call me Peter Pan.”

The boy bows as he says it, like his name alone is a title fit for a king. 

“And what do you want with me, Peter Pan?”

Peter straightens up from the tree at last, and starts to walk past you, towards the open fields of the farm. “I suppose I’ll ask you about that tomorrow,” he says. 

You call after his retreating figure. “I’ll make sure to have a better answer, then.”

Peter pauses long enough to turn around and smile at you again. “I hope you do.”

Then he’s gone, no trace of him anywhere even after you hurry over to the spot where he’d just been. It’s as if he’s vanished, practically materialized into thin air. You shake your head slowly, and wonder why you’re grinning. 

True to his word, Peter comes the next day, and the next, and the next. Each time, he asks you some sort of question. The second and third days are about him: what you think he’s doing, where you think he would be going. The next three days’ worth of questions are about you: if you would consider yourself lost, whether or not you’re afraid of your magic, what would you do to get revenge on Regina for abandoning you. You do your best to answer as truthfully as you can, and in return, Peter starts talking more about himself as well. 

On the seventh day, Peter doesn’t bother with the usual routine of engaging in parlor conversation, merely strikes at you with a question the second you meet up. 

“Would you go home with me?” He asks, voice eager. “To Neverland, I mean. Would you go with me?”

Peter’s eyeing you almost hungrily, as if the entire fabric of his being will be torn into pieces if you don’t answer. All the same, it’s a rather difficult thing to consider. You don’t always enjoy your life here, but it’s all you have. These people saved you from certain death as an infant. 

Also, you don’t know anything about Peter’s Neverland other than what he’s told you. He could be lying about every little detail down to the sapphire depths of the oceans lapping at its shores. Are you really going to stake your future on what you know of this boy, the one with the bloodthirsty smile and penchant for driving you mad?

The answer, as it turns out, is yes. Peter looks delighted once you tell him so, and holds out a hand for you to follow him. You take one last look over your shoulder at the farmhouse, still looking gravely out at the surrounding night, then turn back to Peter and accept the offered hand. It is time for your new life to begin. 

Neverland is one of the best things in the world. You forget your doubts the moment you step foot on its shores, too busy taking in every sight of your new home. It’s as if it was meant for you, this life, and you can scarcely even imagine a time before it. 

You find that you fit in remarkably well with the other Lost Boys. You get along swimmingly with them, and you pose enough of a threat with a knife or your fists that they have no choice but to treat you as one of their one. Peter likes that, you can tell.

Admittedly, he didn’t like it quite as much when some of the boys started developing crushes on you. There was a time when Devin was practically shadowing your every footstep in a misguided attempt to get you to notice him. Peter had been simmering with an ill concealed rage for weeks during that experience, and it took a turbulent confrontation between the two of you for him to admit that he was actually jealous of the other Lost Boy because he was secretly harboring feelings for you. 

After that, it was easy. You love Peter, and he loves you. The days stretch into hundreds, then thousands, and you never grow tired of a single minute. All is perfect, all is well, and then it isn’t. 

Peter tries to hide it at first, and when he can’t manage it any longer he tells you the truth. He’s dying slowly, a river running dry, and as he does the last vestiges of magic start to leave the island. There’s nothing either of you can do except search for a cure, and that’s far more difficult than it sounds. 

At last, Peter happens upon something. It’s called the Heart of the Truest Believer, and should infuse the possessor with enough magic to defeat any curse, or, say, stay alive despite the fact that their clock is actively ticking down the seconds they have left to live. Getting to the actual Truest Believer will be hard, but their son, Henry, should do the job.

Henry Mills. That’s the part that makes this infinitely harder, isn’t it? To kidnap Henry, you’re going to have to risk the wrath of Henry’s family coming after him. You can handle a Truest Believer, but Henry’s adoptive mother is Regina, your birth mother. After all this time, you might finally come face to face for the first time since she left you to die. It is both terrifying and thrilling.

However, you’re not about to let your own hesitation about meeting Regina come in between Peter and his only shot at survival. Within a week of finding out the truth, Peter has sent for a couple mercenaries of sorts to go kidnap Henry and bring him to Neverland. After that, you and Peter are going to have to figure out how to convince the boy to give up his heart to Peter, but you’re fairly sure that you can handle that. If there’s one thing that the two of you can do well, it’s persuasion. You both lie with the same gilded tongue.

You get your chance to meet Henry a while later, and the boy quickly grows to like you. You’re sure that he’s a nice kid, but every time he opens his mouth and talks about how fantastic it was to grow up with Regina, you want to cut his heart from his chest yourself. How could he possibly have it all when you grew up with so little?

Peter knows this, and he gives you a chance to act upon your vengeful feelings. By now, Regina and a small traveling party have arrived on Neverland in the hopes of getting Henry back. They won’t manage it of course, not if you and Peter have anything to say about it, but you don’t want them stumbling into trouble while either of you are distracted.

Peter offers you the opportunity to act as a false friend of sorts. You can pretend that you’re a Lost Boy in need of rescue, and keep an eye on Regina’s group while reporting back to Peter all the while. It sounds good to you, and soon enough you traipse through the woods and just happen to stumble by their camp long enough for them to find you.

They’re desperate, you can see that. It truly haunts Regina to be so separated from her child. You don’t think she recognizes you, and you certainly don’t tell her your name, but she keeps regarding you with far more suspicion than the others, even excluding the fact that you’re obviously a Lost Boy. Could she suspect that the two of you are closer than first meets the eye? Maybe, but she doesn’t have any proof except her own rambling thoughts.

Still, if anyone’s being affected by your presence at Regina’s camp, it would have to be you. It’s odd to see her after all of these years, to pretend to guide her through the forests as if you’re on the same side. She abandoned you, and now you’re right there beside her as if she never left. 

The worst part is that after a couple of days, you’re starting to lose your grip on that familiar hatred. Regina is cruel and calculating and utterly without morals as compared to, say, the Charmings, but she’s doing all of it for her child. The child isn’t you, but she’s been starting to turn some of that focus on you as well. 

It all comes to a head about a week after Regina’s party first touched down on Neverland. You and your mother have been cautiously lowering your guards around each other, and tonight, you were pretending to scout out the edge of their campsite when Regina approached you, alone. 

Her voice is quiet, her gaze trained on some cluster of ferns on a nearby bank. “Why are you helping us?”

You shoot a quick glance her way. “Pan’s island is a prison. I want a chance to feel like the entire world isn’t against me.”

It’s the excuse you and Peter agreed on when you were first drawing up this plan, and Regina seems to buy it. It’s what she expects to hear, so of course she’ll believe it. 

“You can come with us, you know. After we get Henry. Storybrooke isn’t exactly a paradise, but after this place, it can’t be that bad.”

This time, your eyes stay on her. “You mean it? You’d let me stay in your town?”

Regina chuckles. “No need to sound so surprised. You help us, we help you. That’s how things work. Besides, not all of us are as evil as we like to think.”

You nod slowly. “Wow. I’ve never really had another place to call home other than here.”

Regina’s brow furrows. “That’s why you came here, isn’t it? You figured any place was better than where you came from.”

You remain silent, figuring she’s said enough to make your point. After a moment, Regina picks up where she left off. 

“Listen, I don’t know what happened to you beforehand, but it’ll be better with us. I swear it. You’re one of us now. Just don’t let Swan hear that I was nice or she’ll never stop making fun of me for it.”

You laugh. “I appreciate it, honestly.”

Regina almost smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Like I said, you’re one of us, and we protect our own.”

That’s the part that gets you, in the end. ‘We protect our own.’ Like she had protected you when you were a child and she left you for dead? Is that Regina’s protection, letting you die? You murmur excuses about needing to get back to the Lost Boys’ camp before someone notices you’re gone, and all but vanish into the woods as soon as you can. 

Peter is waiting for you in his quarters, and you’re grateful for the walls protecting you from view. Peter’s face twists with concern when he sees you, and he’s scarcely crossed the room to pull you close before the tears start to come, pouring like a flood and leaving you dazed, your head a dizzy mess. 

Peter stays with you the whole while, hand rubbing comforting circles on your back. In the end, it is the reassuring sound of his heartbeat that makes you calm down. Him, and nothing else. 

At last, you step away, and dash a frustrated hand over your eyes to wipe away the last of the tears. “Let’s give Emma the map,” you say, “I want them to feel like they’ve lost.”

Peter agrees, and the next day, you get to pretend as if everything is normal while watching Emma and Regina struggle to figure out how to solve Peter’s clue. Their fighting is going to tear the party apart, which is exactly what you’d hoped would happen. 

You don’t think you’ve ever acted a better part. You color your expression with nerves, especially after Regina gives up and tries to use her magic on the map. 

“I don’t know, I really think you shouldn’t do that. Pan doesn’t take kindly to people who don’t play his games the right way. Trust me, I know.”

You actually know quite well, but even Regina in all her charity doesn’t want to hear it. “Yes, but this is different. He can’t stand against us, not for long.”

She pushes recklessly ahead through the wilderness of the island, and you wait until nobody can see the look on your face to smile. They have no idea what’s coming for them. Peter Pan always wins, does he not? Regina is about to find that out for herself. 

Indeed, when Regina triumphantly rounds the final bend to see what should be Henry standing with his back to her, she couldn’t be happier. The delight starts to leach from her face, however, when her so-called son starts to speak with Peter’s voice. 

“You know, you really should have listened to Y/N. I don’t like people who break the rules.”

Emma and the rest stare at Peter in horror, but Regina seems stunned the second Peter says your name. You use your magic to appear by Peter’s side in a second, further confirming her suspicions. 

Regina looks as if the ground has been pulled out beneath her feet. “Y/N? You’re alive?”

You smile, although the expression is as cold as frost. “Yes, mother. Although you had nothing to do with that.”

Emma swings around to stare at Regina. “Did she say you were her mother?”

Regina starts to answer, but she’s cut off by the loud whoops of the other Lost Boys arriving on the scene. All of a sudden, fighting breaks out, and you couldn’t be happier to see it. It feels like revenge, your true family having your back against the family that could have been yours if your mother hadn’t given you up. 

Regina tries to use a spell to knock out a large cluster of Lost Boys, but you block it just as easily. She looks stunned that her powers are equal to yours, which makes you laugh. 

“Oh, come now. Your magic is mine. Surely you don’t think you could take me down that easily?”

You raise your arms and a wave of shadow crests around Regina, blocking out all signs of the fight around her. No sound makes it through, nor a stray beam of light. Regina calls out to her friends, but she hears and sees nothing. You can see the terror on her face, how horrified she is that she could be left alone. 

Then Peter’s calling for the Lost Boys to fall back, and you go with them. You lift the spell only once all of your boys are gone, and Regina stumbles out of her daze, face drawn in sickening fear. 

Peter laughs, later at the campsite. “You certainly look pleased with yourself. Having fun ruining your mother’s life?”

You can’t help but smirk at that. “Only a little bit, of course. Let’s get to Henry, I want this done. The longer we wait, the more chances Regina and the rest have at stopping us. I’m not risking you, not if we have a chance to get that heart.”

Peter presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Sounds good to me. What do you say we get him tonight?”

What you want to do is solve this now, but it’s Peter’s life counting down, not yours, so whatever plan he wants is good with you. You nod your assent and watch Peter slink off into the forest to go talk to Henry again. You know he wants to convince the boy to give up his heart without a fight, so he’s taking his time about it, but you still can’t fight the fear that something is going to happen before the two of you can save Peter’s life. 

As the night draws to a close, though, the plan seems to be working accordingly. You and Peter take Henry to Skull Rock once the young boy proves himself capable of believing, and Peter starts the spell to prepare for the change of hearts. You watch the entrance of the cavern, eyes flickering between the hourglass, which has scarcely any time left at all, and the mouth of the cave. 

About twenty minutes after your arrival, you hear footsteps and call them out to Peter. “We’ve got company.”

He nods, brow dotted with sweat from concentration. “Keep them at bay for as long as possible.”

You may not be able to calm your own fears, but you can do that. Regina, Emma, and the rest of the party burst into the cavern, but they find themselves unable to progress any further due to the magical barrier you’ve created to impede their movement. 

Regina tries to break through, and the combined force of keeping her back while maintaining the barrier is harder than anything you’ve ever done before. Still, it's saving Peter, and that is all that matters. You could do this forever if it meant saving the boy you love. 

Regina must realize this, because all of a sudden she stops her magical attacks and walks towards you, as much as the barrier allows. “Y/N, listen to me. You don’t have to do this.”

You laugh, voice strained from the effort of maintaining the magical barrier. “Of course I do. If Peter dies, I die with him, and not just because Neverland would cease to exist.”

Regina nods slowly, realizing what that means. “You love him. Alright. I love Henry too, though—”

You cut her off. “What, like you didn’t love me? You left me to die when I was just a baby. Growing up, I wished you succeeded, but being here with Peter makes me want to live every single day. If you’re such a concerned parent, maybe you shouldn’t have abandoned me first.”

Regina’s voice is quiet. “I know. Leaving you behind was one of the greatest mistakes I ever made. I tried to find you the next morning, did you know that? You were gone by then, but I searched for weeks. I wanted you back, Y/N. I know I can’t heal what I did to you, but let me try. Please.”

You shake your head, although you’re feeling decidedly less sure of yourself than when you started. “You’re just saying that to get Henry back. You don’t mean it.”

Regina inches forward. “I do. You can tell that, can’t you? I need Henry, yes, but I need you too. I’m not asking you to forgive me, I’m just asking you to spare Henry’s life. He hasn’t done anything to you. Please, let him go.”

You risk a glance over your shoulder at Peter, who’s going to take Henry’s heart at any moment. Henry looks absolutely terrified, and it— oh, it reminds you of you, how it had been to grow up knowing that you were utterly alone in the world. You can’t fault Henry for having better luck than you did, and you can’t kill him for it. This would be so much easier if Peter needed a heart from some nameless kid, but it isn’t. 

Across the room, Peter meets your gaze. He knows what you’re thinking, you can tell, but he doesn’t try to stop you. Perhaps he knew all along that this would never work, perhaps he’s been counting down the days until he would well and truly fail. At least now he won’t do it alone. 

You drop the barrier and Emma surges forward, snatching Henry away from Peter, who just backs up. Regina approaches you hesitantly, but you hold up a hand before she can say anything. 

“I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for Henry. You owe me, you know? You owe it to me to treat Henry like he’s the best you’ll ever have. Never make him feel like I did.”

Regina nods slowly, looking almost regretful. “I will.”

You jerk your chin towards the door. “Now go. Let me be alone with Peter.”

Regina nods again, murmuring something that almost sounds like a goodbye under her breath. The rest of the party sweeps from the room, leaving you with Peter and the resounding stillness. 

You run to him, you have never been able to stay away for long. “I’m sorry, Peter. I’m so sorry. I just can’t let Henry die for something he never did.”

Peter’s hands touch your brow, then dip, tracing the curves and contours of your face as if he’s afraid that he’ll never see them again. Maybe he won’t, if you’ve damned him by letting Henry go. 

“It’s alright, Y/N. We can find another way. That’s what we always do.”

It’s true. You reach for every healing spell you know, combining some with Peter to see if the two of you can come up with something, anything, to give him at least a few more hours of blessed life. Nothing works, though, and out of the corner of your eye you can see the hourglass relentlessly ticking down the time you have left. 

Eventually, when the sand has all but disappeared from the top of the hourglass, Peter takes your hands, forcing them to still the never ending stream of magic. 

“This is it, then. Don’t waste your energy on a dead man, huh?”

You shake your head desperately. “There must be something else. Anything.”

Peter’s eyes flash a somber shade of green. “There isn’t always a way to win, love.”

You hate hearing that from him, from Peter Pan of all people. Through sheer desperation, you lean forward and kiss him, so you don’t have to keep seeing that dejected look if anything else. You kiss him and wait for him to die in your arms, but for some reason, he doesn’t. 

Indeed, when you pull away, you realize that Peter’s glowing, or perhaps that’s the light emanating from the hourglass as all of the grains of sand fly back up towards the top. This time, they refuse to fall, but stay there victoriously. 

When you look back at Peter, he’s grinning ear to ear. “True love’s kiss. Why didn’t I ever think of that?”

You laugh incredulously. “It worked. Oh, Peter, it worked.”

You don’t know that you’ve ever felt as lucky as you do right now. A strong contender might be when you arrived on Neverland for the first time, or even when you first met a strange boy in the woods back when you were still living on that farm. The connecting thread, though, the one person who always makes you feel worthwhile, is Peter. Now, you have him forever. You couldn’t be happier. 

ouat tag list: @lovesanimals0000, @amortensie

[teaandfiction-28]

🗄 + Alexis + “No, don’t look at me like that.”

The alternative to @acdassenza​‘s prompt - hope you enjoy!

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

“Yo Sarg, I think she’s finally asleep.”

Hank lifted his gaze from the ever-growing stack of papers on his desk to the doorway of his office at the sound of Kevin’s soft tone, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards at the sight of one of his most trusted officers cradling his six-month old daughter against his chest with a gentleness that belied his hulking frame. 

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon and, despite the fact that every desk in the Intelligence bullpen was occupied, the 21st district was surprisingly quiet. His team had spent hours on end sifting through video footage, phone records and financial reports in an effort to track down the sender of the sinister package.

It had been almost a week and still he refused to let either Kate or Alexis out of his sight which naturally meant that the Intelligence Unit were operating in shifts to keep their newest member occupied. While she was generally a laid-back, easy-going baby, the major disruption to her daily routine had made her spectacularly irritable until ‘Uncle Kevin’ had scooped her up, swaddled her in her favourite blanket and paced around the bullpen until she had eventually succumbed to exhaustion. 

“Thanks Kev.” He murmured, placing his pen down and jamming the heels of both hands into his eye sockets in an effort to ease the dull throbbing.

“Hey, you mind if I tag out? I gotta meet a CI in Pilsen in thirty.” 

Rolling away from his desk, Hank pushed to his feet to met Kevin half-way so that he could gently transition the slumbering baby into her father’s arms, both men holding their breath when she stirred slightly before burrowing her face against Hank’s chest and immediately drifting back off to sleep. 

“Take Adam with you. I don’t want any of you ridin’ solo at the minute.”

With a nod and a quiet ‘yes Sarg’, Kevin turned on his heel and strode through the bullpen, tapping Adam on the shoulder as he passed and Hank watched their retreating backs until they disappeared down the steps. 

Adjusting his sleeping daughter so that her head was nestled in the crook of his neck, he slowly lowered himself down onto the black leather sofa and took a moment just to breathe in her sweet baby scent, reassuring himself that she was here in his arms. She was safe. 

A subtle movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he turned his head towards the doorway where Trudy was leaning against the doorjamb with her arms folded across her chest, a wry smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she watched him rub soothing, rhythmic circles up and down the baby’s back. 

“No, don’t look at me like that.” Hank mumbled after a few long moments of silence, the weight of Trudy’s stare burning a hole into the side of his head. His eyes tracked his friend as she moved further into his office only to brace her weight against the edge of his desk, eyeing him cautiously.

"Like what?” 

“Like I’ve...” He tailed off as though the words had stuck like treacle in the back of his throat.

“Go on.” She coaxed, clearly having no intention on making it easy for him. 

“Like I’ve gone soft.” He ground out the last word as though it were particularly offensive but, in truth, he was irritated with how vulnerable the threat had made him feel. The thought of somebody, anybody, getting close enough to harm a hair on his daughter’s head made him feel wild with rage. 

When he eventually met Trudy’s eyes, they were shining with something that looked suspiciously like pride. 

“Hank, I’ve known you for over thirty years and, believe me when I tell ya, this right here...” She lifted an index finger, gesturing towards him and the slumbering baby. “...is as far from soft as you could get.”

Pushing away from the desk, she paused at his elbow, reaching down to place a comforting palm on his shoulder.

“You know, protecting your family doesn’t always mean puttin’ a bullet in whoever wants to hurt them, Hank.” She said quietly. “And needing to keep them close certainly doesn’t make you weak.”

Just as she was about to leave, she hesitated briefly in the doorway, her eyes suddenly alight with mirth.  

“Besides, s’not like anyone would believe me if I told them that babies liked to sleep on the chest of the dreaded, dangerous Hank Voight. It’d be like trying to convince Adam that he’s not God’s gift to women.”

With a parting wink and a squeeze of his shoulder, she left him alone to consider, perhaps for the first time in his adult life, a solution that didn’t involve actual, physical violence. 

[fartoo-sensitive]

our cross to bear

i've been working on this for like?? two weeks??? idk it's been a long time lol but i finally finished it<3 i hope y'all like it^^

word count: 1498

warnings: canon typical violence

character(s): vincent sinclair x gn!reader

deep breaths. in. out. stay quiet.

you had to keep reminding yourself of that. well, not yourself. the girl. your eyes flickered over to her. she was shaking like a leaf, her breath coming in huge gasps. you were sure her sides had to be cramping by now. tears had been steadily falling from her big brown eyes for hours now; not surprising considering the things that’d happened to her and her friends. you whispered softly for her to stay quiet.

the hand that wasn’t holding the paring knife imbedded in your side in place - “never pull anything outta ya if ya get stabbed, y/n,” your father’s voice echoed in your head, his chuckle along with it; a silly memory from watching an old movie together - came up to shove the hair off your forehead. you knew bo hadn’t meant to get you with the knife, but even with as small as it was you weren’t gonna pull it out until you had the supplies to keep yourself from bleeding all over the place.

you weren’t 100% sure where the girl - tessa, you thought her name was - had led you. acting as another victim was hard, but you weren’t too keen on giving yourself up and having her turn on you so soon. you knew how desperate a scared human being could be, and the sinclair brothers - especially vincent - would never forgive you if you got irreparably injured after you’d begged them to let you help out.

a soft groan from your side broke you from your thoughts, and you turned to see the girl standing and looking around carefully. ambrose was quiet. you knew the boys were out looking for you.

after a few seconds the girl touched your shoulder, silently pointing up the road to the house of wax. you looked around, realizing you were in the gated part of the old churchyard. not really a good hiding spot, but you guessed you hadn’t been found yet so she’d done okay so far. you nodded at her, a hidden smile taking over your lips when she turned to carefully make her way out of the yard.

the sign on the door still said closed but that didn’t deter her, not that you expected it to, and she slowly pushed it open, wincing visibly when it creaked. her wild eyes flashed back to you and all you could think to do was shrug helplessly. she finally pushed it open enough to slip through and you went through right after her, shutting the door closed as quietly as you were able behind you.

nighttime fell long ago, and while sometimes bo had the town turned on especially when visitors were around, he’d cut the power sometime before sunset to make it harder for the girl to navigate. he knew you’d be okay; you knew ambrose like the back of your hand at this point.

you followed the girl - sometimes your brain made you want to call her tessa, but you knew you couldn’t do that, not when she was gonna die soon - through the house of wax. she was a jittery little thing, her head whipping back and forth, looking around at all of the figures, scared they were one of the brothers come to get her like they had her friends earlier. eventually she came to sit beneath a window, her back pressed against the wall. she closed her eyes, trying to even out her breathing. you sat down beside her and leaned your head against the wall. you were starting to get sleepy. maybe that was the knife in your side.

a noise from outside the window jolted the both of you, a hand flying up to cover the girls mouth before a whimper could come out, and then a voice sounded.

“where the fuck is she, vincent?”

your heart stopped in your chest for a second, eyes flickering to the girl before going back to the window. you prayed bo wouldn’t say your name. he couldn’t be that dumb, could he? you listened for a moment while vincent gave his reply.

“well you better fuckin’ find her. she’s one girl. how far could she have gone? an’ what if she’s hurt y/n?”

a scuffle beneath the window for a few seconds.

“get your shit together, vincent.” a pause. “i’m sorry.”

a muffled bang, then silence.

your heart was beating a mile a minute. you didn’t wanna look at the girl. she knew now. she had to know; you weren’t helping her, you weren’t another insect caught in the brothers’ web. you were a key player in their game, leading her right to them.

“you tricked me.” her voice was barely more than a whisper, and you hear the tears falling again.

immediately you stood up, shoving yourself back from the wall and away from her. sharp pain from the knife raced through your abdomen.

she stood up on unsteady feet, stalking towards you. “how could you do that?”

“i was just helpin’ the family, sorry.” your voice was shaky, but you shrugged and put a small smile on, flippant.

she glared at you. “you’re all monsters.”

“maybe we are, but that’s our cross to bear.”

the girl roared, grabbing the closest thing she could get her hands on - one of vincent’s smaller sculptures from a side table - and threw it with all her strength. it hit you square in the shoulder, painful, yes, but that wasn’t really what concerned you.

“hey, be careful with those!”

“oh, fuck you!”

and that’s when she lunged at you. you’d never been in a physical fight, not since you first came to ambrose a few years ago and you’d stupidly gone toe-to-toe with bo on your own. you didn’t win that fight and although you were a bit bigger than this girl, you did have a knife still sticking out of you and you had lost some blood.

maybe this whole idea of acting as a victim to help out had been a terrible idea from the get-go. that’s all you could think when the girl wrapped her hands around your throat with surprising strength and rammed your back into the piano. vincent hadn’t been thrilled with the idea, even bo thought it might be a stupid idea, lester wasn’t really up for debating with you on it because he never won those with you, but they saw how excited you were and said fuck it. now you were thinking maybe, maybe, they were right.

“vincent!” it was hard getting anything out with someone choking you so hard but you thought you did a pretty decent job, and hopefully vincent was still close by and would hear you.

in either a stroke of pure genius or stupidity, your hand shot down and yanked the paring knife from your side. the thought went through your head that it didn’t even hurt coming out, but that was probably the adrenaline, then the thought was gone when the girl shoved you harder against the piano, a low whine escaping your throat.

just when you were about to use whatever strength you might have left to stab the knife into whatever surface you get to on the girl, she was ripped off you and thrown back against the wall you’d both been sitting against not 10 minutes ago.

you collapsed to the floor, your legs too weak to hold you up any longer, and watched as vincent stalked towards the girl who was now slumped back under the window. he had a knife in each hand and you turned your head away when he reared back with both of them. the sounds of them impaling the girl went on for awhile before he was finally back in front of you, kneeling.

vincent's hands were covered in blood, fluttering between the weeping wound in your abdomen and the bruises already forming around your neck.

you tried to give him an encouraging smile. "i'm okay, vinny."

he shook his head, damp hair slapping the sides of his mask and the shoulders of his sweater. the anger and worry was evident in his eye.

"just-" you stopped, having moved towards him too quickly and incited a sharp pain up your side, "just a scratch."

he growled low in his throat. <<bo.>>

"it was an accident, vincent, you know that. don't start a fight."

<<fine. tomorrow.>>

you almost laughed. "no, not tomorrow. let's just go to the workshop, okay? get me patched up, i'll be okay." you reached out and took his bloodied hands in yours, bringing them to your lips and placing soft kisses on the knuckles. "i'm okay."

he took a deep breath through his nose. "never..again."

you nodded. "never again. promise."

vincent stood up, carefully pulling you with him and up into his arms. he would get you patched up and take care of you for the night, the girl could wait. maybe he wouldn't even yell at bo tomorrow.

maybe.

[miabrown007]

brutal

(aka a 600 words S4 meltdown fic)

now with follow up hurt/comfort on [AO3]

"Marinette, can I ask you something?"

She looks up from her notes, a small smile on her lips. "Anything, Adrien." 

"Do you ever feel replaceable?" 

She just blinks at him, as if not understanding the question. Maybe she doesn't understand why he is asking her this. They aren't all that close, after all. But he can't ask Chloé, can't ask Kagami, and sure as hell won't ask Nino or Alya, so here he is. Explaining. 

"I have this friend. My best friend, actually. Or I used to think of her as such for quite a long time. But lately, she acts differently. She's ditching all of our meetings, she's keepings secrets, and it's really hur— I'm not a fan," Adrien says, running his thumb over the cold band on his ring finger. Over and over.

Marinette's expression darkens, her lips a single thin line as she searches for the right words. "You know, if this friend of yours doesn't appreciate you — I mean, I don't want to be too quick to judge but secrets are a pretty serious issue. So, if you confront her about it, and she doesn't change anything…" Marinette shrugs. 

She is clearly thinking of Chloé. Adrien won't correct her. 

"You have to set your own boundaries. Sometimes a friendship just doesn't serve you anymore, but that's okay. You don't have to stay friends only because that's how it used to be." 

Adrien smiles at her, his fingers digging into the flesh of his palm under the table. "Thanks, Marinette. I'll keep that in mind."

***

And he does. But the first part of the advice can't escape his mind, because he can't help hoping, that somewhere, deep down, it hurts Ladybug just as well. Can't help hoping that she still cares, that he still matter, that they are still something to be saved. 

But Adrien knows he's too much of an optimist for his own good. He knows he can't let go, so with trembling stomach, he asks. After an akuma attack he — as usual — barely contributed to, because patrols are a special occasion lately, just him and Nino.

"Ladybug, do you… Do you still think secret identities are inevitable?" 

Her head whips up, her eyes searching his in a wild panic. He can see she's calculating how much he knows. So he smiles at her, his most reassuring smile. 

Ladybug takes a sigh of relief. At least she has the decency to look guilty when she says, "now more than ever. I'm sorry, Chaton."

His heart breaks on the concrete in front of the Louvre. Adrien's sure, she can hear it too.

***

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Plagg asks, for once paying attention, just as tired of the cheese as Adrien. 

"Yes." Adrien nods earnestly, swiping the sudden dampness from his face. "Will you stay with me?" 

"No one has ever asked that from me before," Plagg laments, his voice almost touched. 

"Well, there is a first time for everything, right?" Adrien smiles weakly, pushing in the door of his father's office.

***

It's easy. Really. Gabriel is technically ecstatic to fulfill his son's wish, and enroll Adrien in a prestigious boarding school overseas.

It's the most batshit crazy thing but maybe he'll get lucky. Even if luck is not his department.

He doesn't tell Ladybug, though. And he doesn't tell Marinette. 

But they notice. 

They must. 

Because Hawkmoth does, and he rages and goes on a rampage, but Chat Noir doesn't show. Not like the heroes need him to defeat their enemies. 

And then, just as swiftly as he started his akumatizations, Hawkmoth stops. And for once, unbeknown to all parties involved, he and Ladybug are of the same opinion.

Without Chat Noir, what's the point?

[cigarettesmokerkaite]

Losing the v-card

Summary: your 16 and alex is 18 you've been dating for a few months and you decided that tonight you and alex take the next step in your relationship

(Smut)

Word count/1069

❥┈┈┈•˼͝ʹ͜ ˓̇͜∙͡∘ ∘͡∙̇͜˓ ͜ʹ͝˼•┈┈┈❥

I was 16 when I met Alex Turner he was 18

I moved to Sheffield with my mum and dad about a year ago that was when I met Alex we only stayed a few doors down from each other

Me and Alex started dating three months after I moved to Sheffield I became friends with him a few days after I moved

We only kissed and cuddled but we never had sex I was too nervous I knew Alex wasn't a virgin like me but he didn't want to make me do anything I didn't want to he wanted to wait until I was ready

My mum and dad where going to visit my grandparents back in London for a few days

So I invited Alex over since I had the place to myself

The door bell rang I ran downstairs to open the door to Alex

"Hi Alex" " 'Ello luv" Alex replied

I moved to the side to let him in

"So what do yeh wanna so 'en" he asked taking his shoes and jacket off by the door

"Well I was watching a movie in my room" I said looking at him there was something about a bit different but in the best way possible

"What movie?" He asked

"R-rocky horror picture show" I said blushing as we walked upstairs to my room

"Yeher favourite" Alex pointed out making me blush more

We sat in my bed cuddling until the movie ended

"Luv yeher singing Y/N" Alex said smirking

"Oh shut up you can't watch that movie and not sing along to the songs" I said pretending to be offended

"I kno' luv I'm sooreh" he said kissing my lips

We started making out the kissing was passionate and did things in my stomach like butterflies you would call it but it felt like a dozen birds trying to get out a cage

I moaned in the kiss and got on top on him straddling him

"Y/N what yeh doin" Alex asked raising an eyebrow at me since I didn't do this before

"I'm ready al" I said kissing his neck

"Are yeh sure I don't want yeh doin anyfin yeh don't want to" Alex said in a shaky voice

"But I want to Alex I want you" I said I started to remove his brown polo shirt and I removed my top to reveal my bra

it was Alex first time seeing my body I immediately got nervous again

"Yeher absolutely gorgeous Y/N" he said running his hand up and down the sides of my body

He flipped us over so he was ontop his fingers on the waistband of my leggings

"Are yeh sure luv" he asked again

"Yes Alex I'm 100 percent sure" I said look into his eyes I could see the wildness and lust in them

He pulled my trousers down and threw them on the floor

He kissed my thighs sucking and slightly biting definitely leaving marks

He then removed my underwear and bra leaving me completely exposed feeling a bit self conscious about myself

He then removed his trousers and boxers

He crawled on top of me "are yeh sure now" he asked again "yes" I said back  he then started toying with my clit he didn't really need to I was already wet for him

I whimpered at the feeling

"Yeh ready sweetheart" he said

"Wait" I said he looked at me worryingly

"Whats wrong" he said panicking

I sat up a bit and reached into my draw beside my bed and pulled out a condom "you need this" I said blushing

"Where did yeh get tha' from" he asked

"I stole it from my mums drawer"I said

"Safe finking" he chuckled opening with wrapper and placing it on his hard member

"Right this will hur' a bit luv" he assured me

I nodded he then slid into my entrance

I winced at the pain he paused "dya want mEh to stop" he said worrying he hurt me

"No no keep going" I said

He slid further into me he kept sliding into me a little bit further every couple of seconds for me to get used to him

Once he fully inside me he stayed still for a few minutes until I told him to move

He slowly moved in and out of me

"Fook Y/N your so fookin tight" Alex groaned while I moaned

"Fuck Alex faster please" I said bucking my hips towards him more

"Yeh sure" he asked

"Oh god yes" he started to pick up the pace

Our breathing become more heavier and our moans filled the room with the sound of our skin hitting off each other

I dug my nails on Alex back whilst he dug his head on my shoulder

"Fuck Alex I'm gunna cum" I cried feeling the not from in my stomach

"MEh too luv" he said he then started to rub my clit with his hand again causing me to moan loudly

"Oh fuck" I said

My hand where running through his hair tugging at it causing him to groan in satisfaction

"Cum luv" Alex said thrusting harder into me

I felt my walls tightened around Alex

And a wave of pleasure over me I moaned Alex's name loudly as Alex came a few seconds after me he was riding out our highs

"I love you Alex"

"I luv yeh too Y/N" he said pulling out of me I whimper at the feeling Alex took the condom off and tossed it in the big he got his boxers back on and handed me my underwear and his polo shirt to wear

He climbed back on the bed and I cuddled into him with my head on his chest

" what yeh wanna watch" he asked me pecking my head

"Grease" I said smirking

"Not another fooking musical" he said chuckling

"It's other one of my favourites and you like that one" I said I knew he secretly likes that movie

We stayed like that for the rest of the night cuddled up with movies and sweets

Sharing a few kisses and telling each other things we love about each other and what we Love in general

Alex was really the best boyfriend a girl could ask for

And for him to be my first was a even better thing to have

[reallyprofoundkryptonite]

"Beached" (Giant merman Krogan and marine biologist Viggo)

A/N: Welp hello greetings i am alive lol I also may just turn this into a multi chapter on ao3

Characters: Viggo, Krogan

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: N/A

Summary: Krogan gets beached and severely injured after a storm and is taken in by a marine biology campus, where Viggo Grimborn is his handler.

Krogan's ears pinned back. Slowly, he shifted awake to cuts and scrapes on his flesh. Rocks had battered him, in the bit of shallow water he was in, however, it was only smooth silt that stuck him down because of his weight.

He drug his nails into the silt, as he spun, trying to thrash his tail enough to get himself moving. It only splashed water on his back and sides from his partially submerged tail.

Slowly, he pushed himself up onto his arms, and then he blinked. His dark eyes shone with a deep fury, one that radiated with pain and anger. Foolish. It was quite foolish to go out during a tropical storm.

Krogan snorted, looking up, towards a cliff that overhung the beach. It soared hundreds of feet above his head, sheer and dangerous, however for his 27-foot long self, it would be even harder to scale if he ever wanted to try, as his fingers wouldn't have as many handholds to grasp onto than if he was smaller.

He gritted his teeth, and shook out his hair, flaring his fins out, as he settled back into the silt underneath himself. It was damp, and comfortable enough. He couldn't do anything with himself anyways, not until the tide came back in, anyways.

He snorted, and closed his eyes, a wary sort of look in them. He stared for a moment, at the darkness under his lids, until it all washed away from him.

_____________

While Viggo had seen some... interesting sea creatures in the past, he had never quite seen anything like this beauty. The creature was curled haphazardly in the bottom of one of the deeper pools at the aquarium he worked at.

Never would he plan on actually showing the being to guests, no that was against international magical creatures laws, as mers and sirens were and have been shown to be just as intelligent as humans themselves, but because of their tendency to not do well among their land-faring brethren in large numbers due to disease.

Viggo sighed deeply, watching the large mer- a male, probably in his mid to late twenties, judging by his teeth, because he hadn't yet grown iin his rear teeth, which would replace the front ones in the case that the mer ever lost any of those.

The creature shifted, long ear fins twitching slightly, as his long, eel-like tail curled and coiled along the smooth bottom of the pool. Twenty-Seven feet long. He was one of the largest specimens Viggo had seen to date, and it was unfortunate that he was going to be unable to physically be re-released back into the wild, due to the massive gouges in his tail, that would cause permanent damage to both the stability of his fins, as well as nerve damage, which would make the mer susceptible to poaching for his scales, or for harvesting his tears, which, while valuable, were most of the time, unethically sourced.

Viggo knew they could heal and cure most ailments, however the way they were harvested- through torture- was sickening.

The mer mumbled something underneath his breath, as he slowly opened his eyes, and blinked at Viggo. He had dark, brown eyes that were large, almost puppy-like in innocence, however this mer was covered in scars. Most likely from other merfolk, or from boats, or from even being tangled in fishing line.

Viggo slowly leaned over the edge of the pool, reaching a hand down into the water.

"If the water is too cold, you can let me know." He said simply, and the mer slowly lifted his dorsal fin, a slight expression of panic on his features.

Viggo sighed, shifting the strap on his wetsuit slightly.

"It is alright." He said, lifting his hands for emphasis, before he gestured around himself. "This place is a safe haven for those who have been injured. We do not hurt the creatures in our care here."

The mer slowly lifted himself in the water, until his dark-haired head was poking from it. Thick, black curls swirled around his face in long, puffy strands.

His skin was olive in complexion, dark, elegant, with a light smattering of freckles across his cheeks, and on his shoulders.

"You are not like the other place?" The mer questioned. His voice was deep and silky smooth, however it was tinged with nervousness. He'd had bad interactions with humans in the past, Viggo surmised.

He nodded.

"You... will probably need to stay here." Viggo said, looking to the side. "The damage to your tail is too great, and we were lucky to be able to fix it before you... bled out." He blinked his eyes slowly, gauging the reaction of the large mer, who slowly moved up, and placed his large hands on the side of the pool, next to Viggo. His gills still had a few fishing hooks stuck in them, so when the mer leaned down to inspect him, Viggo reached up, and quickly pulled the hooks from the delicate flesh.

The Mer hissed, however he shook off, drops of blood beginning to drip from his neck.

"Easy. Had to pull something out of you there." Viggo said simply, as he strode back over to the table, and set the hooks down on it.

He could feel the mer watching him carefully, as he then turned back around.

"I have been formally assigned as your caretaker for... however long you need to be here, so I would like to formally introduce myself." He smiled.

"I am Doctor Viggo Grimborn, however I would prefer if you simply referred to me as Viggo." He tilted his head. "What would your name be?" He then asked.

The mer blinked at him quietly.

"Krogan." The mer watched Viggo for a moment longer, and then he slipped back off into the water. His long tail coiled around the outside of the tank for a moment longer, and then, it was gone.

Viggo sighed softly. There was always more to that, he supposed. He wasn't scared of the mer, but eventually, he'd need to get him some food, which... they didn't exactly have much on hand at the moment.

He slowly walked out of the more private room, and into an office space, hopefully to talk to someone about ordering different things for Krogan.

[star-killer-md]

Dream a Little Dream of Me Pt. 8

Well folks I have returned after a long break. I was hit with a wave of no motivation and life shit but thank you to everyone who has read all my other shit and left me such nice feedback. I am patently horrible at responding to comments but I see them all and love them so much. There is not much Kylo in this chapter, so apologies in advance but I promise there will be plenty of him to come. 

AO3 Mirror

Part 9 to come

Warnings: Angst, angst and more angst, not much else except for that so buckle up. 

Summary: In which you discover sometimes knowing is worse. 

Ship: Kylo Ren x Negotiator!Reader

Word Count: 6.4k

Your breathing stopped along with the footsteps at the door. One hand remained pressed firmly against your mouth while you shrunk as far under the desk as possible. There was only horrid stillness for the next few moments. You got the distinct impression that whoever stood at the entryway was tasting the very air, sniffing like a predator for blood spilled into the sea. And a chill ran through you the second he caught your scent. A voice like ice and stone rang out as the hunt began in earnest. 

“You know, it’s impolite to enter a room without permission,” Atreus mused from behind you. 

The sound of it coupled with the knowledge that he was only mere footsteps away made your limbs shake. Like a wild creature caught in a snare, you were flooded with instinctual fear at the sound of the door clicking shut. 

“Though I will admit, I was hoping you would pay me a visit.” 

He was pacing now, footsteps softened by the carpet but still perceptible. To your right the embellished wardrobe doors were flung open accompanied by a dissatisfied grunt. You frantically searched the immediate area for paths of escape—or potential weapons if it came to that—but there was nothing. Your back was to the door and Atreus stood directly between you and the only way out. 

As the likelihood that you would walk out of this office dwindled, you cursed yourself and your hubris for ever taking this job in the first place. 

There must have been a saying about this type of thing somewhere, but you couldn’t seem to recall any at the moment. 

“You ought to show yourself,” he continued, every word laced with mockery and disgust. 

He was getting closer with each step. There were only so many places to hide and judging by the fading noises of clutter being moved, all but one had been exhausted. He was going to find you and you were going to die. 

At least you would be right about one thing. 

Kylo Ren really was a liar. 

 “I never took you for a coward,” fingers drummed on the desk above you and it creaked as Atreus leaned his weight over the top, like a ship's hull as it kicked into hyperdrive. 

He was so close now you could smell him, all artificial cologne and shoe polish. If you hadn’t been trying so hard to hold your breath before you certainly were now. His own came in calm, measured puffs and you closed your eyes tightly as if that could hide you any further. While your last moments alive and breathing wasted away, you recalled all the times the Commander had called you arrogant or prideful or any other combination of synonyms that all meant the same damn thing: foolish. 

Before you might have called it confidence. Might have thought he and all your other superiors were simply threatened by their inability to tear you down. Now you just kicked yourself for being cocky enough to leave your back turned. 

“Seems I was mistaken, Ren.” 

What? 

You recoiled at the name and very nearly said the word aloud as your eyes flew open in shock.  But the legs which came into view—unnervingly long and thin— and situated directly in front of the desk turned anything you might say to dust on your tongue.    

Why was it, even at the moment of your imminent demise, that the Commander was inevitably mentioned? 

Could you really not be executed for political gain in peace?

“I know you’re here. I can feel it,” he began but was interrupted by two more approaching footsteps and a blessedly familiar voice. 

“No, I’m sorry sir, I’ve been away sampling catering options,” Lem’s soft, clear tone was more relieving that you’d care to admit. 

You swore if you lived through the next five minutes, you’d apologize for every rude thing you’d ever said to him. 

Well, all the rude things you’d been wrong about. 

“You were in your office just before I left,” Gahl grumbled and stopped just outside the door, wrapping twice. “Atreus, are you quite finished in there? I’d rather not be late to dinner just because you’ve stained your tie.” 

The creak of hinges nearly had you slamming your head into the desk in shock. 

“No sir, I lent the space to our guest from the First Order,” Lem prattled nervously and you heard Atreus growl as he shifted in place. 

“You shouldn’t be letting just anyone wander around here, Alba,” the advisor huffed before adding under his breath, “You never know what they might get into.” 

“Really, you’re the one that suggested we invite—” Lem was drowned out by another soft knock and the creaking of a door across the hall. 

You didn’t bother tuning into what Gahl had been mumbling about as Atreus’s knees slowly bent and you were once again filled with the rush of dread at the prospect of being discovered. At best you’d be labeled as a conspirator and sent back to the Finalizer for Hux to have you killed himself for destroying Order relations to Coruscant. At worst, you were destined to die on the goddamn floor at the feet of a greasy, poor excuse for an advisor. 

But in fact, neither of those options played out. 

Instead, you found the world going black for just a split second—no more than a blink—and when you woke it was to a hand gently rocking your shoulder. 

You bolted upright, startled to find yourself no longer cramped on the floor, but seated in Lem’s office. There was a small puddle of drool on the desk and Lem himself staring down at you, brows knit in concern. 

“You alright?” he asked quietly. 

But you didn’t respond right away, just looked wide-eyed out the door as Atreus rose from the floor and met your gaze with his own indecipherable expression. 

From beside you, Lem squeezed your shoulder again and you turned to face him. 

“Yes, sorry,” you muttered, shrugging away from him and rolling your neck. Every joint and muscle in you felt stiff. “I must have dozed off a bit.” 

“I can see that,” he chuckled but his face never lost it’s questioning look. 

“Right, well,” you continued, hastily gathering your things.  The air felt thick and stuck in your throat. You wanted to get out—needed to get out—immediately. “Thank you for the office, I’ll be on my way and send the drafts to you later this evening.” 

Passing by Gahl at the doorway, you gave him a friendly nod and a quiet, “Representative, I hope you have a lovely evening.” 

You were nearly out of the wing entirely when that god awful voice sunk it’s claws into your leg again. 

“Oh, but you must join us for dinner,” Atreus hummed. 

He had sauntered back out to stand behind the Representative and was pinning you down with a horrifically sweet smile. It was so wrong on his face you shuddered at the sight. Gahl, annoyingly, nodded along as he looked you up and down. 

“A good suggestion,” he said heartily. The redness of his cheeks and the slight sway in his step suggested he’d had more than just one drink before returning. “We haven’t had the chance to speak much since you came.” 

Shit. That bastard knew you couldn’t refuse a personal invitation lest you run the risk of seeming rude or suspicious when you were here to supposedly mend ties. Gahl might have been drunk enough to forget the impasse but Atreus was not as dimwitted. 

“Well, I suppose I can’t refuse such a kind invitation,” you gritted out as politely as possible. 

Gahl clapped once, loudly and turned back, calling to Lem, “Wonderful! Lem my boy, you’ll meet our friend in the lobby, yes?”

“Of course,” he said, blonde head popping out of the doorway and offering you a sympathetic smile. “You can go drop your things off and change if you’d like, I’ll wait for you.” 

You sighed and flashed a hopefully convincing grin at the three men, “Thank you, I shall see you momentarily.” 

With that you tried your best not to turn and bolt, but waited at least until you got three corridors down before collapsing to the floor in a pile of stuttering breaths and shaking hands. You tucked your head between your knees and tried to inhale deeply. The insides of your head pounded with the slick, viscous sound of Atreus’s words. The only thing that pulled you to your feet again was the insistent need to get as far away from it as possible. 

The hallways blended together as your feet carried you father and father from the offices, the Representative, and your almost murderer. You had hoped your room would offer some reprieve from the panic, that there may be someone waiting for you inside to spin comforting lies of safety. 

There was not. 

The room contained nothing but freshly made sheets and a white blotch on the wall where a hole had been patched. 

Nothing at all to indicate the Commander had set foot there since your return. 

You considered calling for him briefly. It had worked before, and the shame of crawling behind his hulking form to hide away was incredibly alluring. But instead you found yourself discarding your jacket and top in favorite of something slightly more upscale. The clothes landed in a pile by the bed where you sat for a moment. 

With the door and several floors of high rise architecture between you and that slimy bastard of an advisor, you thought again about what your second dive into espionage had dredged up. 

‘In his head’, Atreus said you were in his head long before you ever came on this assignment. Kylo had bristled at the words, shut you down quickly and you were used to secrets—you had many yourself—so you knew one when you saw it.   

Bond. 

The word rolled around in your skull, burned on your eyelids in that awful, messy script. 

It hurt to think about. 

Physically hurt, like someone was digging needles into your spine. 

So you didn’t think about it. 

Not yet. 

Instead, you finished fixing your outfit and walked back out of the empty room. There were answers and you would find them, but it was clear you’d have to get them on your own. So you let the door click shut behind you and took a deep breath. It was just dinner. You could do dinner and you would get your answers. 

On your own. 

****

The food looked painted onto the plate, contrasting colors and lovingly set out, but tasted like sawdust in your mouth. A shame too, it smelled better than anything you’d been served yet on Coruscant and was certainly a hundred times more extravagant than anything the Finalizer’s cafeterias stocked. 

But having the man who was seconds away from killing you just a short hour ago stare diagonally across the table with his corpse like eyes every time you moved did quite the number on your appetite. 

Thankfully, Lem was seated in front of you and had been prattling away for most of the meal, leaving you with little silence to fill. Part of the way through your fourth or fifth wood-chip bite, Gahl decided to change that. His voice was low and grated with age as he turned in the seat beside you to speak. 

“So, how are you enjoying your stay on Coruscant?” he asked, inching his leg out of the chair and closer to yours. 

“You’ve been very hospitable, Representative, I have absolutely no complaints,” you lied through your teeth, smile just as purposefully arranged as the food in front of you. 

Gahl’s hand patted your thigh just as he’d done at your first meeting, “Glad to hear it, I’m sure it’s nothing like those Star Destroyers.” 

You cursed every social rule of polite society which kept you from putting your knife through his hand. 

“It’s certainly a change of pace,” you mumbled around another flavorless mouthful. “Lem has been a wonderful guide.” 

In fact, you would give anything to be surrounded once again with nothing but bland, grey durasteel and the eyes of officers who were more than happy to pretend you didn’t exist. You’d even take standing in General Hux’s office, watching his ginger head flit about between sifting through files and insulting your diction in reports. If the Commander would even bother to look your way, you would have taken his cold, inaccessible stare over this as well. 

As your thoughts drifted further in the direction of Kylo Ren, another chilling voice joined the conversation. 

“Oh, don’t feel the need to flatter him,” Atreus chose that moment to chime in, scoffing into his napkin. “No doubt Alba’s simply talked your ear off about his low class, wait staff dalliance.”

Lem bristled, cheeks a comical pink with rage, “He has a name.” 

“Well, I’m sure he does, but I simply do not care to learn it,” Atreus sipped his drink and scowled. “You shouldn’t be fraternizing with the servers at all, it’s unbecoming of an aide to the Representative.” 

Across the table, Lem deflated and looked between you and Gahl. You were given the distinct impression this was not a new topic of conversation. 

“He’s right about that my boy, you can buy whoever you like now on the salary I pay you,” the Representative chuckled and downed the contents of his glass. 

“I’m sure our guest would agree,” Atreus’ eyes were trained on the plate but you felt his gaze on you all the same. 

“Relationships between superiors and subordinates are...frowned upon in the Order, I suppose.” 

You only caught a glint of the light off Lem’s slicked yellow hair as he turned toward the man beside him. 

“Certainly but it must happen,” he said.  

“Of course it does,” Atreus looked at you then, the blue of his iris was so light it nearly blended into the whites. “But it would be quite a dangerous predicament, especially somewhere like the Order, would it not?”

You were sure to keep your face blank and unassuming, though it was either much less convincing than you believed it to be or Atreus was actively capable of hearing the panicked screaming of your internal monologue. 

“Yes, yes it would be,” you nodded and looked back down to the table. 

“Particularly with someone of your standing, working directly under the General, I can only imagine the implications of a relationship with anyone high enough to be your senior.”

You could feel your eye twitch and your jaw tense almost against your will, as if Kylo Ren himself was choosing this very moment to inhabit your body. Really, you almost wished that he would, especially with his aggravating ability to remain completely unreadable in even the most stress inducing of situations. But alas, the only part of you Kylo inhabited was your mind in the form of an incredibly inappropriate slew of evidence for your so-called ‘dangerous predicament.’ 

“Hm,” you hummed quietly in agreement, hoping he’d drop the subject. “It would be quite unsightly, I’m certain.”

Meanwhile, Lem stared at you incredulously and hurriedly excused himself from the table mumbling something about the restroom. His blonde head quickly disappeared into the crowd and you were left alone with the Representative and his advisor, a pit developing in your stomach. And it was only made deeper by the muted betrayal in Lem’s parting tone. 

“The boy has always been too sensitive,” Gahl offered by way of explanation and Atreus nodded slowly. 

“He cracks too easily under scrutiny. He should know by now that softness is not a very useful trait in this line of work.”

You frowned and shifted in your seat, swiftly moving the Representatives gnarled hand from your leg. 

“Some amount of give is crucial in politics,” you said, gaze flicking between the two men. “It’s important to be able to bend to your adversary every so often. Being underestimated by your opponent often means you’ve been unwittingly awarded the high ground.” 

Gahl laughed heartily again as you excused yourself as well, though Atreus remained stony calm even when you glanced back between the sea of tables and waiters and expensive suits. 

Lem emerged from a side door not long after you’d posted yourself in the short, empty hallway leading to the restrooms. He would have walked straight past you if not for your hand swiftly yanking him back by the arm. 

“Wait,” you hissed as he turned to face you huddled in one of the doorways.

“What?” he hissed back.

Well. That was a fair enough question, though you hadn’t exactly thought that far. 

Lem stared at you with brows furrowed, obviously less than thrilled with how things were left off. A small part of your mind, which you were more than happy to bury and ignore, whispered that you ought to apologize. But that was most certainly not why you came after him. 

No, leaving the table was simply to punctate your last statement. 

Not because some part of you felt...guilty. 

Absolutely not. 

In fact, this was a perfect opportunity to do some more digging. Lem was your pseudo-informant and that was all. 

Right. 

That was certainly why the following words left your mouth in a tumble. 

“Are you okay?”

Lem paused as you let your hand fall from his arm, shuffling back so he could stand out of sight in the door frame across from you. He still looked cross, but his lips quirked up just a bit. You supposed he’d asked you the same so many times in just the last day, it would be appropriate for you to return the favor.  

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “That was by no means a new conversation.” 

“Under different circumstances, I would have been a bit more…” you trailed off and Lem offered you a signature toothy smile. 

“Appearances and all, I get it. Atreus uses any excuse he can find to bring up Jane since he caught us a week or so before you got here,” Lem sighed, running a hand through his neat hair. 

“Who?” 

The look you received was even more incredulous than before. 

“Jane, my—”

“Right, the waiter,” you nodded and raised your hands in apology, “so, why exactly does it matter who you’re seeing?”

Lem shook his head, “It doesn’t really, since I’m just an aide, but I’m fairly convinced he’s been trying to get rid of me since he was brought on.”

A gaggle of restaurant staff rushed past to the bar where a woman was loudly complaining about her food. You welcomed the attention her display drew away from you. 

“Oh, he wants me gone too,” you muttered and quickly waved off the comment when Lem leveled you with another confused glance. “Any particular reason why?”

He shrugged and hunched over so he could lower his voice, “Not sure, but I do know he’s been butting his greasy head in whenever the opportunity presents itself. He climbed the ranks quicker than most of the other staffers.” 

Now that was interesting. Bless Lem and his affinity for gossip. 

“That seems odd,” you frowned. “I hadn’t heard of him until this assignment, and I like to think I’m fairly well informed.” 

Lem scoffed and peered over his shoulder as if he would find Atreus there, breathing down his neck, “I’m sure you are. He just happened to materialize one day, determined to take my job.” 

Yes and your life as well, but Lem needn’t know about that. 

“Strange.” 

“Yes it is,” he replied. “And they’ll think the same if we’re gone much longer.” 

You nodded and watched him turn to merge back into the crowd, but he paused halfway into the hall. 

“Thank you,” he said simply and slipped away, past the bar and into the waves of diners. 

You waited another few minutes after Lem disappeared, and allowed yourself a small, secret smile. If for no other reason than your success at finally piecing together some information about the spiraling mess your life had become. But mostly at the rosy cheeked and chuckling sincerity that alleviated some of the uncomfortable fluttering in your stomach. 

And you found the food a little less like chalk, the nerve wracking stares and inappropriate touches a little more bearable the rest of the night. 

***

The elevator ride back to your room was far more excruciating than any of the other unpleasant encounters you’d experienced that day. At least when you were cowering on the floor making peace with the fast approaching end to your mortal body, you couldn’t feel the bearer of your death breathing down your neck. 

It was so uncomfortable, you actually wished that the touch-happy, drunken Representative had tagged along instead of staying back till last call at the bar. Your heartbeat racketed up three times its normal rate when Lem pressed the button for his room a few floors below yours instead of riding back with Atreus to the office suites. 

“Did you want to discuss my notes for a bit?” you asked, trying and somewhat failing to keep the desperation out of your voice. 

Lem looked at you with a strange expression on his face, nose turning a darker shade of pink than usual, “Oh, ah, another time maybe. I have, um, someone waiting for me.” 

From behind, Atreus scoffed. 

“Truly, you are shameless, Alba,” he said and you heard him shift behind you. 

“Right,” you wanted to push the issue harder, but it would be worse if Atreus suspected you knew anymore about his plot than he already did. “I’ll see you later in the week then.”

The panel above the transparent sliding doors rang and Lem stepped out into the hall, “Yes, well not too long till the big reveal, so I’m certain we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.” 

The soft hiss of the doors closing again reverberated in your bones like the thunking of an executioner's blade. You swallowed as your tongue turned to stone in your mouth. There were only a handful of floors in between before your stop but that would be more than enough time to maim your body beyond recognition and throw it down the incinerator shaft. 

You reminded yourself sternly that it was unlikely Atreus would exact whatever assassination plan he had in place in such a secluded space, but fear responses were not easily reasoned with. 

Atreus remained resolutely out of your line of sight and that only made the deep, instinctual part of your brain howl for you to run, claw, bite. Oh if only it were that simple, there would surely be far fewer aggravating superior officers in your life. 

The numbers on the panel moved far more slowly than you thought they ought to. With every extended second you spent in that horribly cramped lift, the air grew thicker with tension and the rancid smell of panic. Finally, finally, the panel flashed your floor number and the doors moved aside to reveal the beautiful sight of an empty hallway. But just before you crossed the threshold to freedom, an iron grip clamped hard down on your wrist. 

“So sorry to keep you,” Atreus began and you spun to face him. “It has only just occurred to me I haven’t had the opportunity to discuss anything with you regarding the Representative and the subject matter of your speech.” 

He really had to wait until now to do this, now when escape was dangling over your head like an unfortunate prisoner hanging over the maw of a hungry sarlacc. 

“Yes, well Lem has been providing council with respect to the Order’s representation of Representative Gahl in all our official statements,” you replied calmly. 

The slightest twitch of your hand revealed a shocking amount of force hidden in the advisor's lanky arms. You stuck your foot back as the doors began to close, unable to bear another minute trapped behind them. 

“Of course, I simply wouldn’t want you being led astray by any of Alba’s short comings,” the grip on your wrist tightened almost imperceptibly, “I’d like to work more closely with you as we approach the first campaign endorsements.” 

 “Certainly,” you forced a tight smile in his direction. “I would greatly appreciate your input.” 

The words sliced your lips as they tumbled out. You were accustomed to lying, yes, but stars that was potentially the least believable statement that had ever left your mouth. 

“I’m sure.” 

Staring hard into his dead man’s eyes, you tried not to breathe a sigh of relief as he unfurled his fingers from your wrist. Stepping back clumsily into the hall you waited until the doors hid his cheap imitation of a smile before you heading down the hall to your room. Better he not know which turn you took. 

You ran the rest of the way back. 

The tightness in your chest subsided by degrees the farther you got to safety and you didn’t even bother denying to yourself the hope that your Commander in all his black cloaked, looming glory would be waiting to stand between you and the reality waiting just outside. 

You really should have known better than to put any faith in his promises. 

“Kylo?” you whispered into the empty room. 

He didn’t answer. Of course he didn’t, and maybe that was the only reason you were brave enough to call out for him. 

There was a familiar black bag propped in the corner by your luggage which indicated Ren had at least returned to the Federal District at some point during the evening. That at least was something of a comfort, though a very small one. 

You grabbed one of the chairs from the table and shoved it securely back under the door handle. It scrapped against the floor and your shin throbbed as you kicked it in place. Once again the clothes on you wore seemed to have been permeated with whatever disgusting, oily sheen that leaked off of the absolute slug of a man currently puttering around in his office planning the best way to choke the life out of you. They itched and stung and you tugged at them quickly, pulling each item off in a flurry like coals blistering your bare skin. 

Free from the growing pile of discarded laundry you dug around through your cases. Your hands still shook as you scattered the contents, pulling on fresh bottoms that didn’t reek of lies and aftershave. You paused as your fingers brushed against something far softer than any of your Order regulation garments. 

Large, flowing, and predictably black, Kylo Ren’s undershirt hung in your hands like a shroud. 

You battled with your instincts. Half of you—the portion still living in the past where hatred was a simple comfort—wanted to ball it up and stomp it full of dusty boot prints. That side did not win and its screaming reduced considerably as the shirtsleeves made their way down your arms. You were enveloped immediately in a sense of sheer relief coupled with the feeling that what you were doing was profoundly reckless. 

But even if it was a false sense of security, your hands and knees were not shaking as badly as before. 

The Commander was intimidating and cold, but in addition he was intimidating and cold and standing resolutely between you and danger which was more than you could say for just about any other coworker. 

You supposed he was probably a bit more than that now. 

Eyes shut, you recalled the warm, full feeling of his approval upon seeing you in his clothes. The way it rushed through you and pulsated when he let his voice echo in your head. You wondered what it felt like for him. Was your voice a grating nuisance or was it a tingle at the back of his neck, the shiver of cool hands or maybe the surge after a well won battle. 

How did he do it, you wondered. How did it feel to read you so easily? To know all your doubts and fears and micro-defiances before they left your mouth. And how did he remain so resolutely aloof? 

Even now, as you tensed your jaw and tried to focus on the smell of him surrounding you and conjure his presence, there was nothing but dead air. You sighed and let your knees thunk down to the floor.

Unsurprisingly, it seemed that Kylo Ren only appeared when he wanted to, only answered your thoughts when it suited him. You could scream his name into the void of your mind but you couldn’t force him there—couldn’t Force him there. Which was unfortunate for many reasons. Being capable of wielding the throat crushing, invisible fabric of the universe at your will would have come in handy in so many situations. As you rubbed your eyes and prepared to wallow more thoroughly in the mess your life had devolved into, something caught your eye amongst the sea of clothing. 

From the Commander’s open bag, you could see something brighter amongst the masses of black fabric. Further inspection revealed that the item was shoved into the back pocket of his trousers and when you looked closer, it was clear what you were looking at. 

Your underwear. 

Your underwear was hidden away in Commander Ren’s luggage. 

And in your half shocked, half strangled endeared state, a memory surfaced. 

The night you’d spent writhing on your bed as Kylo sat, watching as the Force fucked you open. The image of him was clear in your head—a princely, demonic being refusing you the luxury of pleasure through his touch and taking your soaked panties along as a trophy when he was finished with you. 

 It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

You’d thought it was a dream then. 

And wasn’t it? The lines between waking and fantasy were blurring more and more with every passing day. But Kylo hadn’t left. He was there when you woke, that you did recall clearly. But these were the same, still unwashed from all those nights ago. 

Kylo had said there was a difference between dreaming and projecting, and to be fair you’d never been able to tell them apart. The Force was somehow involved. The same Force which seemed to have a questionable relationship with existing inside you. But it stood to reason, if someone as incompetent and disconnected as you could think yourself into Kylo Ren’s presence on very specific occasions, that he could do so whenever the hell he wanted. 

And while the implications this knowledge had on all your other sexual escapades was at the forefront of your mind and burning your face to a crisp, another inkling was forming amongst the embarrassment. 

If the Commander truly had projected himself—whatever that really meant—into your room to fuck you into oblivion without lifting a finger and kept what he’d taken, maybe you could do the same. 

Maybe, sitting inside your coat pocket was your own dream contraband. 

Crawling across the floor, you sifted through the mess at the foot of the bed until your hand felt something small and hard. Your breath stuttered in your chest as you pulled a familiar leather bound notebook from the pile and turned it over in your grip—hefty and solid and so very real in your hands.  

Staring down at the book you were at once intensely excited and overwhelmingly terrified. Logically, you knew that you were alone here and free from prying eyes no matter how desperately you wished not to be, but delving into what promised to be the source for so many of your questions felt too risky in the open of your bedroom. 

Quietly, you leaped over the bed and scrambled into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and sliding down to the floor. Only then, with your back barricading you in with the tile cooling your heated skin, did you crack open the cover and begin to read the sloppy, looping scrawl across each page. 

A picture began to form in your mind growing clearer with every passing page. 

It was very much like reading the ramblings of a madman, and upon passing the first ten or so pages, your initial deduction of mad ravings only grew more accurate. The entries were similar to that of a diary, each one detailing a new piece of intel discovered. And just as you’d noted before, almost all of it had something to do with Kylo Ren. 

And you’d thought you were a bit obsessive. 

There were names you didn’t recognize, and some you did—members of the Order, high ranking and not, scattered about. Occasionally passages were quoted from what seemed to be incident reports and older texts of galactic history. And of course, there were consistent references to the ever mysterious Force. All of which were written in such personal detail that you could be certain they came from someone who, unlike you, could and knew how to use it. 

The words were so jumbled, you had to reread each line and follow it like a hunting trail to the next running sentence. And the farther you got, the deeper you dived, the more you felt your insignificance looming—that tight in your throat feeling of being so small in the grand scheme of things. 

In this scheme of things at least.  

From what you could understand, all the events leading up to your assignment to Coruscant and everything that had transpired since your arrival all boiled down this: power and the struggle to possess it. 

And at the center of it all was Atreus, Kylo Ren, and, inexplicably, you. 

In this story, you began as nothing more than another pawn on the chess board. Your name appeared maybe twice in the entire first half of the nearly full notebook. You were a footnote, a name scribbled in the margins connected to the General due to your position. After that, it seemed Atreus had gotten his hands on some more confidential documents, dozens of them in fact judging from his lists. Some were immaterial and contributed nothing, but from what you could gather, buried amongst them were dozens of your correspondence all pertaining to the Commander and all of which more than hinting at the small grudge you carried for him. 

He’d even quoted lines from you. 

As you progressed, the text became even more garbled, the handwriting rushed and nearly illegible but it was easy enough to see where it was heading. 

You were meant to be an example—of that you were certain. But not for the First Order, not because one Coruscanti representative wanted to stick it to its totalitarian overlords. Oh no, the threat of your death was meant as an example to Kylo Ren himself. It was a message, a lure, cast down from Atreus. When you first began to piece this together, it sounded intensely nonsensical. 

Almost entirely due to the fact that this plan hinged on Commander Ren of all people, having a vested interest in your life. Which, up until very recently, you would have deemed impossible. If anything, you’d have guessed he would greatly benefit from your demise seeing as you were at best an annoyance and at worst a roadblock between him and forceful galactic takeover. 

But then you reached that word. 

Bond.

Scribbled over and bolded with arrows and circles. You still couldn’t truly grasp the gravity of what it meant, but looking it over again, you knew it was true. Whatever this thing was, between you and your Commander, this was its name. And having read the journal in its entirety, you understood now why that singular word had struck you so thoroughly to your core. 

“You aren’t going to die.”

How many times had Kylo said that to you now? 

And it was constructed to bring your downfall. This was exactly what it seemed Atreus was banking on. It seemed all this want, all this hypothermic, desperate searching for one another was manufactured. The sense of wholeness,  a sham. The pit inside you, the anger, the balm of Kylo moving inside you—all orchestrated somehow to fit into this master plan to remove the Commander and take whatever he was standing in the way of. 

Without this, you would have remained a nuisance swearing at Ren from across conference tables. Nothing more than a bug to be smashed against the wall and left to rot.  And that sat terribly on your shoulders. 

Just as the book fell from your hands and onto the tile floor, you heard a familiar rattling coupled by a crash from the room just outside. Heavy footsteps rang out against the floor and a door slammed. 

Your name was called softly into the stillness. Just as you had called for him. A few moments of silence passed before you could answer, and when you did your voice felt strange in your mouth. 

“In here,” you replied quietly, listening to his foot falls approach the door and come to a halt. 

When you closed your eyes, you could almost hear his breath. Kylo paused at the door, the soft thump of his hand coming to rest against the wood the only other sound he made. You didn’t move from the floor and he made no attempt to open the door. The tingle at the back of your neck, the slight tugging of your strings, told you he could feel the thoughts racing in your head. 

Only minutes ago you would have been relieved to feel the warm of him spreading slowly down your spine. Now it felt strangely soured. For a moment you thought he might rip open the door, maybe bend you over the vanity again and teach what happened when you called for him out line. 

But he didn’t. 

When you didn’t shift from your spot to step into his grasp, you felt him pull away and heard the rustling of sheets and clothing outside. You didn’t know what you would say to him now, so instead you got up slowly and turned the water on. The mirror fogged over as you stripped and tucked the little notebook away under your clothes so the steam didn’t seep into the pages. 

You could wash now, you thought, and hopefully Kylo would have fallen asleep or left to stalk the halls again when you finished. Then you could buy yourself some time to think, unbothered by other prying eyes in your head. 

You stepped into the stream and scrubbed your skin raw, and all while the little black book watched you from its place on the sink, ever plotting. 

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