#there was never any point in the final battle where i felt in danger of actually game-overing

[willosword]

hmm the ending was a little too vague for me to be that emotionally invested in it but regardless. good game! 

[desideriumwriter]

could you write a hurt/comfort where in the battle of hogwarts reader sees fred get hit by an explosion and goes on a rampage until a weak and limping fred stops them from casting the killing curse bc even tho he’s seriously injured he’s worried about them?

(also i absolutely love anyone but you)

i wrote this in one night can you tell lmao, anyways tysm!!! i hope this breaks your heart and puts it back together all at once

wc: 829

cw: talks/depictions of explosions, blood, injury, death, dissociation, reader literally almost kills a man, barely proofread

“Bombarda Maxima!” You heard his voice, you saw his face, you recognized it from the wanted poster you saw of him. Augustus Rookwood, a death eater.

You saw the spell hit right where Fred was standing. You witnessed him go down, disappearing in smoke and debris from the attack.

Once your ears stopped ringing a painful amount and the smoke cleared. You could see his body laid against the wall, head hanging down and his body still.

In the distance could see Rookwood standing there, staring at the destruction he caused with a pleased look. 

Body moving faster than your brain, you were sprinting towards him now. He began to runaway.

You were screaming an array of offensive spells as you chased after him. Reciting every one that you remembered from your dueling classes.

You were able to knock his wand out of his hand when he tried to cast something back at you, it flew somewhere out of reach of the both of you.

Throat sore and legs aching, you didn’t stop chasing after him.

“Diffindo! Confringo!” You moved onto more destructive spells, not caring about the pillars and stone you accidentally hit when the spells missed him.

“Sectumsempra!” A white bolt shot out of your wand, hitting him right in the back and knocking him forward into the ground.

You didn’t expect the spell to work, more of you didn’t know what to expect. You’d never used it before, never learned about it.

The only time you heard it and witnessed it being used was when Snape casted it and cut off George’s ear.

All you knew is that it did damage, harm, pain. That’s all you wanted to cause towards Rookwood.

You came to a stop once you were just a few steps away from where he was, grunting and squirming in agony on the ground. 

There were slash marks all over his body, blood soaking all throughout his clothing.

As you stood there in front of him, the only sounds were your sharp breaths, out of sync with Rookwoods pained ones.

Fred was gone. You saw him yourself. Limp and lifeless in the debris.

All morals were gone as you stared at him, your wand pointed and ready to cast.

It’s not fair he gets to live while Fred doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve to.

The call of your name and a hand on your shoulder was enough to make you spin around, pointing your wand threateningly at whoever was behind you.

“It’s me! It’s me!” Fred shouted, putting his hands up in innocence. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Fred’s shaky hands hovered over your shoulders, not sure if you were okay to be touched yet. You wanted to lock eyes with him, to comfort him with your gaze if he needed it, you knew he did. But a large part of you didn't want to see the state he was in.

You weren’t sure there was any comfort in your eyes either, only anger and fear. It was this strange  dissociated daze you were stuck in. Fred tried to shake you from it with his words.

“Look, it’s me. It’s only me.” He held your face with weak and bloodied hands, wiping the dirt and strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty face.

Your breaths were still sharp, body still tense, hand still tightly grasped around your wand, still looking around for any danger.

He kept repeating his words, saying your name, pleading for you to look at him until you finally did.

As your eyes locked with his, your sharp breaths turned into shaky sobs. 

“I thought you were…you looked…” Your hands roamed all over his upper half, “You’re here…oh God, you’re hurt.” you sobbed as you felt a warm soaked part on his torso. 

“I know, I know, let’s just…let’s just sit.” He limped and directed you to sit down with him on a knocked over pillar. You noticed more of his injuries through bleary eyes.

“Your leg, it’s all-“ You stared in horror at his damaged body, blood bleeding through his shirt and pants.

“I know. Let me just..” Your wand was now in his hand. He must’ve taken your wand from you while he was trying to bring your focus back to him. “Ferula.” He casted and bandages appeared, wrapping around his wounds. He closed his eyes and let out a relieved breath in response.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He breathed out, his voice soft yet out of breath. Your only response was to cry even more and wrap your arms around him.

Fred rubbed your back and shushed you. 

He held onto as if you were built out of ash, like you would crumble into his hands if he applied too much pressure. While you gripped onto him, his shirt balling up in your fists, refusing to let go. You practically were crumbling in his hold.

“It’s alright. It’s all over. It’s done. I’m here. I’m here.”

[youremyonepiece]

sweet idiot

pt. II of soft terror, but can be read as a stand-alone!

zoro x f!reader (she/her pronouns used), alternating pov

you know that zoro doesn't have feelings for you, not in the way you do for him. there's no way... right?

warnings: mention and description of a nightmare, mostly fluff! (please lmk if there are any i should add!)

word count: 2.6k

you have a feeling that zoro doesn’t know how easy it is to read him.

never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine you would meet pirates that were so kind, but that's exactly how you'd describe the straw hats. they didn't expect things from you, didn't make you prove your worth to them or earn your place amongst them. no-- instead, they welcomed you with open arms and protected you fiercely, simply because you were their friend. because you were one of them.

and somehow, you found the gruff swordsman to be the kindest of them all.

how could you not? without him, you wouldn’t even be a straw hat. somehow, he had seen you, had chose to save you, had trusted you without even knowing you. no matter how stoic he may try to seem, you know the truth. you know just how kind he can be.

not that you would ever admit it out loud to him. it’s undeniable you’ve been feeling more and more comfortable with him as your tenure with the straw hats grows, and it’s also undeniable that you’re more comfortable around him than you are around anyone else (a fact that nami and robin love to tease you about), but...

but you know he doesn’t feel the same way. you can see it in how tense he grows when you move closer to him, his pointed stare anywhere but at you. the way he never seems to feel comfortable around you. so you satisfy yourself with quick brushes and quiet company, knowing that you’ll never get to do more than gently tease the swordsman, careful to never push too far but grateful for even this.

you're running.

it's dark-- you can't see anything around you, not even yourself.

but you're running from something, this you know.

and you know that it'll all be over if it catches you.

you can feel it gaining on you, getting closer and closer--

something wraps itself around your wrist and jerks you backwards.

into danger.

a scream erupts from your lips-- this is it, it's all over, you're going to--

you awake with a start, coated in a sheen of sweat as your breaths escape heavily from you.

a nightmare. it was just a nightmare. it wasn't real. it isn’t real.

you're safe.

you're safe.

you're safe.

(but what if you're not?)

you feel your breaths increase in pace, panic rising within your chest as you struggle to distinguish dreams from reality. you might be safe, might know for a fact that nothing can touch you here, not when you’re surrounded by the safety of the sunny in the midst of your crew, but you didn't feel safe. and that's all that matters, isn't it?

in your half asleep state, still not quite fully in grasp of reality, there's only one place you want to go.

only one place you wanna be.

(only one person you wanna be with.

after all, you're craving safety, and there's only one person who always makes you feel safe.)

you're on your feet before you realize where they're taking you, but you don't stop once you do. you pad soundlessly through the women’s sleeping quarters, careful not to disturb your snoozing shipmates. it's not long before you're standing silently in the middle of the men's sleeping quarters, eyes already seeking out that comforting shade of green that follows you into your more wishful dreams.

you know where he is, which bed he's in, and you feel your heartbeat slowing down almost immediately when you finally fix your gaze on zoro’s sleeping face.

maybe the effect that the swordsman has on you should embarrass you, but it doesn't. never before had you met someone so steady, even in the heat of battle. even as he struck absolute terror into the hearts of his enemies, you felt at ease just by being in his presence.

even now, as you stare at his sleeping face in the dim moonlight. here, it's much easier to catch your breath. to believe you're safe.

of course, around zoro, you always are.

you quietly step closer until you're directly in front of zoro’s bed before sitting down, back against the wall and head resting sideways against the barrel next to you. it isn't long until your eyelids begin to droop, heavy as you watch zoro’s chest rise and fall slowly with his slumbering breaths.

this time, thankfully, your sleep is dreamless.

zoro knows he should probably move.

probably leave before you begin to stir, before you see him staring at you.

but his feet are frozen in place.

what were you doing here?

what were you doing in sanji’s bed?

why?

(why not his?)

your eyebrows knit together as a soft groan escapes from you, breaking the spell that held him captive. he spins on his heels and is out the door before your eyes can open, thoughts raging in his head and pounding in his ears.

sanji?

really?

you could do so much better.

(like maybe a certain crewmate with three swords.)

“so," usopp begins conspiratorially, causing you to look up from your breakfast at him, "sanji, huh?”

immediately, your face flushes a bright red, and zoro wants to punch something. this is not what he wants to hear during breakfast, not when it’s all he’s thought about in the few hours since he found you in sanji’s bed. if he has to listen to you talk about how dreamy you find the damn chef... zoro quickens his pace shoving spoonfuls of rice porridge into his mouth.

sanji seems to notice your embarrassment as well and is quick to smack usopp on the back of his head.

“don’t tease her,” he snaps, fixing usopp with a glare.

“what's he teasing her about?" franky wonders aloud.

usopp chuckles, completely unfazed by sanji's warning. "oh, nothing. just that someone was in sanji's bed when i woke up this morning.”

your blush deepens, and zoro's grip on his spoon tightens (it's a miracle the utensil hasn't been bent out of shape yet). "i didn't--” you start, but sanji cuts you off.

"oh, give it a rest. i moved her there when i woke up today morning. she was sleeping on the floor of our room,” he says, eyes trained on the sizzling pan in front of him. he sounds irked, as though he didn’t want to admit you hadn’t been there of your own volition. zoro, on the other hand, is suddenly a lot more interested in the conversation.

you shoot sanji’s back a grateful smile, causing a current of annoyance to run through the swordsman. “i was wondering how i ended up there,” you say, still blushing but not quite as brightly.

“okay, sure,” usopp cuts in, undeterred, “but what were you doing in the men’s quarters in the first place?” he waggles his eyebrows teasingly at you as your cheeks flame up again.

zoro catches your eyes as they flit towards him, seemingly without meaning to since you quickly look back at usopp. “i just couldn’t sleep.”

“you couldn’t sleep, so you went... to the men’s quarters?” nami asks, but her voice makes it clear she knows something zoro doesn’t. he frowns and looks back at you to find you glaring at the orange haired navigator.

you glance quickly at zoro again, causing his heartbeat to thunder loudly in his ears. why did you keep looking at him? did you... come to the men’s quarters for--

“that’s enough teasing her,” sanji says, placing the pan of eggs on a trivet in the middle of the table. “i’m happy you feel at ease in my presence, mon amour,” he says to you with a suave smile, but his quick glare at zoro before he takes the seat next to you doesn’t go unnoticed by the swordsman. you laugh at his words with a teasing comment, causing sanji to joke about you crushing his dreams, and just like that the conversation has moved on. but zoro’s still stuck on the exchange, at your furtive glances at him.

what is going on? why is the chef annoyed with him this time? is... is he right?

did you come to the men’s quarters for him?

zoro tries to push the conversation out of his mind-- it’s no big deal, he’s probably overthinking it, you probably just wanted to be around more people-- but he’s entirely unsuccessful.

could he be right?

appetite gone, zoro pushes his bowl towards luffy before getting up from the table and excusing himself from the room.

maybe a couple hundred sets of his workouts would help get his mind off things.

your eyes worriedly follow zoro as he walks out of the dining room. did he realize that you had actually gone to the men’s quarters to see him? is he upset with you for pushing the boundaries? what are the boundaries, anyway?

you think you’re the only one who notices him leave, but usopp and nami break into laughter almost immediately upon the door swinging shut and robin wears a cryptic smile as she takes a sip of her tea. sanji sighs dramatically next to you, leaning backwards to sling his arm around your chair.

“he sure is dense,” he comments, and you freeze at his words. what? did everyone know about your crush on the swordsman? you look around at your crewmates faces at the table and realize with dull horror that only luffy and chopper seem to be confused.

“sure is!” usopp says between chuckles. “i thought for sure he’d realize this time!”

“what do you mean?” luffy asks before you can-- you’re too busy stuffing the panic back down your throat. maybe you’re wrong. maybe they’re talking about something else, not your feelings-- but no, luffy’s question only seems to make everyone but chopper and you laugh harder.

“don’t you think zoro seemed a bit annoyed just then?” sanji asks luffy with a smirk.

annoyed? at you? has zoro realized you like him? you feel yourself grow red all over, embarrassed beyond belief as you push away from the table. no use sticking around, not when zoro might be upset with you for dragging him into drama. not when you might need to apologize for potentially ruining one of the best friendships you’ve ever had.

nami giggles as she watches you follow after zoro, face red and eyebrows worried. “we know that zoro has no clue about how he feels about her,” she says with a grin, “but do you think she knows?”

“‘feels about her?’” chopper echos, confused.

“he likes her, chopper,” usopp supplies through laughter.

luffy frowns. “doesn’t everyone like her?��

“not like that,” sanji says with a smile, but doesn’t elaborate. “and no, nami, i don’t think she does.”

“they make a good couple,” robin comments with a smile, making usopp howl with laughter.

you find zoro, predictably, in the crow’s nest. he’s working out with his weights facing away from the door, but you see his back muscles tense when you step inside.

not that you’re looking at his back. or his muscles.

(okay, maybe you are.)

“um,” you start, closing the door behind you and leaning against it. “can we... can we talk?”

zoro freezes at your voice-- though you hanging out around him when he’s working out is common, you speaking during then is not-- but is quick to thoughtlessly drop his weights and turn around to you with a frown at your question. “are you okay?”

“yeah! yeah, i am. but, um,” you fidget as you wince, struggling to meet his eyes, “are you okay?”

“why wouldn’t i be okay?” he asks, clearly confused.

you stare at him, trying to gauge how much he knows. did you overthink it? it doesn’t seem like he’s annoyed at you...

“why couldn’t you sleep?” he asks when you don’t answer.

you’re happy for the diversion-- you definitely did overthink it, he seems normal, not at all annoyed-- and shrug nonchalantly. “nightmare.”

he turns back around away from you, leaning down to pick the weight back up. “and the shitty chef helped you?”

you blink. is that... resentment in his voice?

“what?”

“you seemed pretty cozy in his bed.” yeah, he definitely seems upset, but you’re confused-- it doesn’t seem like he’s upset with you. if you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s jealous.

“sanji wasn’t lying-- i fell asleep on the floor. i guess he moved me when he woke up to do his kitchen prep.”

zoro pauses, then sighs and drops the weight again. he turns back around, rubbing his hand across his face. “yeah. yeah, i know. sorry.”

did he just apologize?

... for what?

but he continues before you can ask, fixing his gaze on you. “you never answered usopp. what were you doing there in the first place?”

you avert your eyes, shy about what you’re about to admit. “um. because i wanted to feel safe.”

zoro just looks more confused, eyes still steady on you. “and you feel safe in the men’s quarters?”

“no, i... i feel safe around you,” you say, finally looking back at zoro.

he looks stunned, frozen in place, eyes wide and lips slightly apart.

(you don’t notice it yet, but the tips of his ears are turning red.)

you take his shock as a sign you should continue and look down at your hands wrung in front of you. “i’m sorry. i know you don’t feel the same-- i wasn’t trying to make a big deal out of it. i’ll--”

“what do you mean? why are you sorry?” you look back at zoro but quickly look away-- you’re too embarrassed to maintain eye contact with him.

“um. because everyone was talking about it? i know you don’t like being in the center of attention with things like this,” you shrug.

he frowns. “so then they should apologize. why are you apologizing?”

you’re at a loss for words. what he’s saying makes sense, but... “aren’t you annoyed with me? isn’t that why you left?”

he doesn’t answer, making you look back at his face. you’re immediately taken aback-- his entire face has turned an endearing shade of red and he’s looking off to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. “not exactly. i was... i...” he trails off before clearing his throat and looking back at you with a frown. “i’m not annoyed with you. i don’t think i can be.”

you can tell from the way his eyes slightly widen that he hadn’t meant to say that last part, but your stomach grows warm when you hear it.

maybe... maybe zoro isn’t quite as easy to read as you initially thought.

or maybe you’re just not that good at it.

“so... we’re okay, then?” you ask, voice soft.

“yeah. yeah, i think so.” his ears and cheeks grow red again, but he maintains eye contact this time. “um. next time, you can just tell me.”

“next time?”

“next time you have a nightmare. you can wake me up. i won’t be upset.” his blush has traveled all the way down his neck now, spreading to his collarbone.

“are you sure? i-- i thought you didn’t like being woken up.”

you have never seen zoro’s cheeks be so red. “i don’t. but... i don’t mind when it’s you. it’s better than seeing you in his bed, anyway.”

you feel your own cheeks grow warm. “oh. um. sure. i mean, yes-- i’ll... i’ll wake you up next time. thank you.”

zoro nods before picking his weight back up for the second time, this time remaining facing your way but no longer looking at you. his face, though, is still red, a clear sign he’s still very much aware of you and your presence.

you feel like you’re in a daze. did... did that just happen?

he basically admitted that he's jealous of sanji, right? why is he jealous?

did he... maybe...?

yeah, you think, you’re definitely bad at reading zoro.

[kyumisyumi]

would you consider continuing eldritch nikto? (no pressure)

im so curious about him

Honestly yea, I wanted to make it a little longer originally but was battling writer's block and didn't want to push myself too much.

Part 1

It took you a long time to realize your eyes were open and that you were, indeed, awake. There was nothing but black in your vision no matter where your eyes shifted but you were certain your lids were peeled back, pupils dilated in its attempt to take in any available light. There was a constant buzzing in the back of your head that only got worst as you tried to sit up. The sound creeping through your ears as if seeking to fill your skull, it shifted and morphed until you realized it was voices. So many of them. Soft whispers yet they felt so loud, so intrusive against your ears. Your own thoughts lost to theirs as they announced your awakening. Your hands balled against your ears in an attempt to block them out but it barely helped.

"Quiet... please." Your words were soft and pleading, as if instinct had you trying to mimic their tone. Trying to conform. "Please." You begged but they just went on and on, conversing with themselves until finally you could take no more. "QUIET!" you snapped, voice hoarse against your dry throat, sounding more like a petulant screech. You immediately regret it when the sudden silence filled the air. While the voices felt like too much, the quiet felt like too little. Unnatural almost. Ominous. You couldn't see anyone depart, nothing but the writhing black walls endlessly pulse and squirm, but you felt it. Like a crowd dispersing as an event comes to an end. It was only then that you remembered where you were, your memory settling uncomfortably where the voices once filled.

You were in hell.

You curled up, body going defensive as you tried to figure out where to go from here. You looked around, your eyes had adjusted somewhat, the room was black on black on black but at least you could made out the shape of the square room you were in and the weird geometry within. You were a top some rectangular platform, like a bed but devoid of sheets and covers. At least it was soft. You stretched out your legs, they were no longer littered with the cuts and scratches from earlier's fray. At least you think it was earlier, it could've been days since it all happened.

As your mind began to ponder you felt a change in the room. It began with the hairs at the back of your neck standing, an awakened prey instinct warning you of danger. Your eyes darting around in search of the threat but you're unable to pick up its location. Ears straining some unnamed muscle to zone in on any sound but nothing. No one was near. You stayed like that for a while, hyper vigilant in a way that was opposed to your usual carefree nature, but nobody was around.

Nobody.

And yet you didn't feel alone. Your lips parted to speak; a greeting? A warning? You weren't sure. All you could muster up was a quiet "um" before you shut them again. For a long time there was nothing but you and the invisible eyes around you. Discomfort quickly set in and after a moment of weighing your options, you tentatively got up and left the dark room.

Outside the whispers returned. Every now and then a voice would offhandedly acknowledge you. 'The human' or 'It moves', occasionally there would be a reference to food but you'd rather believe it had nothing to do with you.

The structure you roamed was nothing but a series of tunnels. You were unable to find any rooms aside from the one you had woken up in, just dead ends and more passages ways. You'd managed to lose the feeling of being watched but you knew deep down you were never alone down here. The only point of interest you found was the entrance. You'd almost missed it, no beams light could manage to permeate the gloom of the pit but looking up you could see the circular patch of yellow-ish white trying to make it's way through. You had no idea what your next action should be. Was this the game? To have humans mull about until they inevitably died of starvation? Was that how you wanted to go out? No. But looking up at the miles of ick leading towards your only means of escape, you felt helpless. Truly helpless. And that stirred anger inside you. You who always held your life in the palm of your hands. Who walked through the world like it could do nothing to you. You didn't want to die but you'd rather face the creature that would kill you than waste away over time.

You turned away from the entrance, eyes scanning the darkness. You couldn't see the thing that stalked you but you knew it was here. Had always been here, only an arms reach away. For a moment, common sense tried to reach you but your lips were faster.

"If you're gonna eat me, just do it."

Of all the things to say.

Your eyes could barely register the speed at which it's tendrils moved, wrapping around your limbs and pulling you towards a wall. You resisted the best you could but for naught. A hard, gross smack as your back is forced against it. You couldn't see them but you could feel tens of smaller tendrils latch onto you, pulling you further and further into the semipermeable surface. A frightening numbness overtook every inch of you encompassed by its form.

"No, no, no no no no. Wait! Stop! " You begged, tears stinging your eyes as fear becomes terror becomes desperation. Oh, how you hated the feeling of regret."Don't, please don't. I didn't-"

When the panic subsided and you opened your eyes, you realized you were no longer being pulled. A dark, all-too-amused chuckle filled your ears. The sound eerily close to your neck.

It didn't even try to hide the mocking tone. "But you said..." The creatures voice was masculine, low and accented, though you couldn't quite place it. Wouldn't know where to begin since you'd never been outside your village.

"I know what I said! I didn't mean it." You quickly interjected. Numb wasn't even the right word for how half your body felt. The parts of you that was absorbed into him felt... Lost. "Please, please let me go."

"Why would you say words you do not mean?" You weren't sure how to respond and in your silence, his tendrils began pulling again.

"I don't know! I-" you thought. You hate having to do that, having to find reasons for your actions as if they weren't performed at the roll of a mental die. As if your entire existence wasn't one impulsive decision after the next. "I was frustrated." You admitted.

"Hmm... " you could feel the wall vibrate as he thought. His viscous limbs lazily sliding over your body, in a way that felt a little too explorative, but at least he was no longer pulling you in. "I know this emotion."

You almost fell over when he released you. Feeling slowly returned as you shivered, your limbs desperately trying to reacquaint themselves. You turned back to look at him but there was nothing but a wall behind you. He was there though, you felt it.

"What is wro-" You wanted to have an attitude but this time your brain stopped you, pleading with you to be careful. To choose your words and tone properly. "I want to leave."

"That's unfortunate."

I hate to cut this off abruptly but I felt like it was getting too long + brain machine broke (mostly the last one)

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Woooo chapter 3 finally

Probably going to at least start the next chapter tonight because I’m so looking forward to writing Mihawk again. He is in this chapter as I promised, but...we do not wake him from his nap. We know better.

But Bogard and Garp have been so much fun honestly. Especially Garp giving Luffy vibes because the brainless dumbassery for sure runs in the family.

Not sure if that applies to Dragon but…look it’d be hilarious if it did—

Anyway, chapter threeeeeeeee

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch. 3 of like four or something maybe six at most idk, I have a clear ending in sight but I’m not sure how long it’ll take to get there

Brief summary of The Story So Far: So Garp, in his infinite wisdom, had this brilliant idea about how the Marines could use reader's devil fruit ability (zoan type, gray parrot) to spy on this particularly dangerous and elusive pirate up close, and now reader is stuck scoping out Kuraigana Island to see if there are any signs of him there. Bogard may have a coronary before this nonsense is said and done.

First Chapter link, Next Chapter link

SFW for now, but not in later chapters

Possible trigger warning for blood. Possible future trigger warnings for imprisonment, mild torture (definitely psychological, maybe physical)

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count: 3,057

Haven't really proofread this much but I will in a minute I promise

No tag list yet, I do not expect one but if you're interested in seeing where this bullshit goes just lemme know

♫♬I’m Gonna Be Your Elvis — The Fratellis♬♫

I could not pretend that I was even half amused

When all they ever told me left me shaken and confused

It would have been a beautiful night for a flight, if not for the destination ahead of you.

Kuraigana Island loomed closer as your wings cut through the soft breeze in your transformed state, and catching the wind would ensure that you could simply glide most of the way there without expending too much energy. The chilly night air barely cut through your thick coat of gray feathers, and your dull coloration and the dim light of the crescent moon gave you some reassurance that you would be able to see any potential threat before it could notice you.

Something near the shore by the forest caught your eye, and you swooped in a bit closer to be positive of what you were looking at—and your stomach did a backflip as you confirmed it.

A small vessel was moored there, a boat in the shape of a coffin.

That was confirmation enough that he was here. Part of you considered circling back around the battleship cutting silently through the water a mile or so behind you and reporting this alone to Garp.

But…no. You had been told to fly over, to see what you could from a high enough elevation to avoid detection, and you intended to do just that. This was your first real chance to show your value as a Marine. You couldn’t blow it by turning tail and running the moment you felt the slightest pang of fear. Hardening your resolve, you regained your elevation with a few flaps of your wings, circling the island until you were at a height where you felt safe.

As safe as you could, at least.

The forest was quiet enough—there were no signs of the population of primates Garp had mentioned to you, perhaps all asleep for the evening. Save for the sound of nocturnal birds and insects cutting through the night air, nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the dense forest, or the narrow path that cut through it from the shore. You flew a bit lower, squinting down across the path.

His boat was there. You knew he had to be there somewhere. He never worked with anyone else, so chances were slim to none that he could possibly be anywhere else.

The clearing around the castle was half overgrown itself, littered with ruins and evidence of battles long since ended beneath a thin veil of fog, but the castle itself seemed mostly intact from your vantage point.

Intact, with a dim orange glow glimmering from one of the windows that made you briefly halt in midair, flapping your wings lightly to keep yourself aloft. Fire light. It had to be, there was no other explanation, perhaps the dim glow of a candle or a lantern. There was someone there, someone in a high room of the tower straight ahead of you. That would be enough for you to go back with, more than enough information to all but confirm the reports.

But…if you could get just a little closer, if you could confirm it with your own eyes…

This was a bad idea. It had to be a bad idea. Garp had told you to keep your distance, but you were already swooping down, stopping just beside the window and gripping your talons against the grooves between the stones that comprised the solid wall.

Folding your wings back behind you, slowly and quietly creeping closer to the window.

Closer, just a bit closer, craning your neck the slightest bit to the side to glimpse inside…

The light, as you had thought, came from an oil lantern situated on a small end table, illuminating what appeared to be a sizable den. Most of the visible surfaces in the room were covered with a fine coating of dust that glinted eerily in the flickering glow, from the bookshelves lining one wall to the adjacent hearth. It was quiet at the moment, still, but there was one sign of life that made your heart skip a beat and your breath catch.

Leaning alongside the hearth, unmarred by a single speck of dust, stood a massive sword with a jet-black blade and hilt in the shape of a cross, a glimmering blue gem set into the base of the hilt that seemed to glow in the firelight. Holding your breath as you stared at the weapon, unable to take your eyes off of it, you realized that the room wasn’t quite as silent as you had thought.

The faint whisper of slow, even breathing met your ears.

He was there. He was really there. You considered the likelihood that you were the first Marine to ever get this close without being killed within seconds, considered the idea of taking off back for your ship right that instant.

And then you slowly shifted a little closer to the window, looking around the edge of the windowsill to the other side of the room.

You barely stopped yourself from letting out a gasp.

Reclined back in an old armchair, a book open across his lap, his boots propped up on the table in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and head tilted down slightly—it was him. There was no question about it. Even with the small difference from his most recent bounty poster of the angular moustache and goatee, there was no question. You were barely ten feet away from the Marine Killer himself, Dracule Mihawk.

And he was fast asleep.

His chest rose and fell slowly with his deep, even breaths, his eyes closed. His plumed hat sat to the side on an end table, his signature trench coat draped across the back of his chair. You had done it—more than simply scouting for activity, more getting the lay of the land, you had found the man himself.

You jolted in alarm when he shifted in his sleep, quickly pulling your head out of the window, your heart racing.

That, you decided, was more than enough for you to report back. You shifted a careful distance across the wall of the tower, taking care to ensure that your talons didn’t so much as scratch against the stone surface, and took flight back toward the shore, toward the battleship barely visible against the dark water and midnight sky. Gliding just above the treetops, buzzing with adrenaline, you were already swelling with pride. You, a cadet that had spent weeks being taunted and treated like a joke, had managed to use the very ability that had made you a laughingstock to do what no other Marine had yet managed.

For the first time, you had more than just a glimmer of hope that this plan, however ridiculous it sounded on the surface, could actually work.

And then something whizzed past your left wing.

You faltered in your flight, looking around as you flapped your wings a few times to regain your equilibrium. Whatever it was had passed by so fast that you had registered no more than the whistle of wind around it. Maybe a smaller bird or a large bug—

And then it happened again.

And again.

And, as you realized that the objects were coming from below you and looked down, you let out an audible gasp that left you like a strangled squawk.

You were too close to the trees, you realized disjointedly, as you took in the sight of several enormous, ape-like creatures below you. You were also the only bird in the air, which you guessed had a great deal to with the fact that these particular apes were wearing what appeared to be some sort of armor and wielding very human weapons. Swords, spears, axes, and—to your stunned realization—bows.

Another arrow zipped past your right wing, close enough to brush across your feathers.

What the hell what the hell what the hell—

Soaring higher into the air did you little good. The beasts had already spotted you and were following your flight path with ease, still firing arrows, throwing spears (though these, thankfully, didn’t manage to come nearly high enough to pose any threat). You were more than halfway across the expanse of the forest, you could make it, you knew you could.

Nearly to the end of it, dipping higher and lower, zig-zagging through the air to throw off the aim of the strange primates.

Right there, right at the edge of the trees, when a searing pain tore through your right wing, causing you to screech out a swear, glancing down to watch the offending arrow fall and land on the shore below you.

You didn’t even dare glance toward your wing to see how bad the injury was. As long as you didn’t look, it might have only been a scratch. It might have just been a light graze. You tried to ignore how unsteady your flying was, to ignore the fact that you were slowly losing elevation and seemed unable to regain it, that you were swerving to the left no matter how hard you tried not to.

You did focus on the fact that if you fell now, you wouldn’t ever make it back. You’d fall into the nearly black waves below you and sink down into the ocean like a sack of stones, and that would be the end.

Your ship drew closer and closer, growing larger and larger in your line of sight, and you focused on that.

Until you were close enough to glide awkwardly onto the quarterdeck, where Garp and Bogard seemed to be arguing quietly in front of the doors of the Vice Admiral’s cabin, and skid past them across the floorboards, hitting the railing on the starboard side.

Whatever argument your superior officers had been engaged in ceased the moment you transformed, pulling yourself up to sit against the railing, already half-shouting at the older man, “You could have told me they knew how to use weapons!”

You didn’t like the way they stared at you for a long moment, both of their gazes flickering to your right arm, no more than you liked how limp the appendage felt at your side as you gripped at the railing with your left hand.

Garp mumbled something to Bogard, who gave a short nod before disappearing into the cabin.

Garp tilted his head the slightest bit to the side, lifting his eyebrows as he slowly approached you. “That—exactly who knows how to use weapons?” he asked slowly.

“The goddamned apes, that’s who,” you said through your teeth, briefly forgetting every ounce of formality that your time as a Marine had instilled in you. “They had swords! And bows! And armor and spears and—”

“The ap—never mind that for now,” he said slowly, holding up a hand. “You need to calm down, cadet. And we need to get you patched up.”

“Patched up—I could have been killed!”

You still hadn’t looked at your arm. The adrenaline still coursing through your veins made the sharp, throbbing pain seem like an afterthought, like a distant reality as you pulled yourself to your feet. “By a bunch of damned monkeys that evidently—”

“Enough.” You jumped at the harsh command, straightening yourself out completely and snapping to attention in an instant. Your eyes briefly darted to the cabin doors as Bogard emerged, unwinding a belt as he strode over quickly, tossing a quick glare at Garp before lifting your arm and wrapping it around a couple inches below your shoulder. “We can discuss it in a few minutes. We need to get you down to the sick bay first.”

You still didn’t look down, shaking your head at Garp as you stared at him in alarm.

“It was just a scratch, I’m fine—ow—” you added as Bogard abruptly tightened the belt around your arm, glancing over.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the large, deep gash extending nearly from your right elbow to your shoulder.

At the blood steadily spurting out from what was no doubt a pretty important vein or artery.

“O…oh,” was all you could force out, your eyes lowering to the puddle of blood at your feet, the adrenaline rush fading in nearly an instant, leaving you more than a little light-headed. “That’s…”

The makeshift tourniquet around your arm did gradually slow the bleeding by the time you sat down at the edge of one of the cots in the infirmary, but you were still woozy from the blood loss, still lightheaded from everything you had witnessed during your flyover of Kuraigana Island, only catching the vaguest gist of Garp and Bogard’s continued bickering.

“And you didn’t think to inform me of this hare-brained mission beforehand?” Bogard was saying, and while his face was shadowed by the brim of his hat you were sure his expression matched his sour tone.

“It was just recon,” said Garp, sitting at the edge of a cot a few feet away, striking a match and holding it to the end of a cigar clamped between his teeth. “In and out, ten minutes. Didn’t seem like a big deal.”

“And yet here we are,” he said through his teeth, not bothering to glance up at your flinching as he cleaned the gash with an alcohol drenched cloth.

“How the hell was I supposed to know a bunch of goddamned apes would know how to use weapons?” he said, slouching over against the wall. “Wonder if the psychopath trained them…”

“Seeing as we know next to nothing about him aside from the fact that he seems to derive joy from committing mass murder, I don’t suppose anyone knows,” said Bogard, tossing a sidelong glare at the vice admiral, who gave a noncommittal shrug. Bogard tossed the cloth aside with an irritated growl and shoved a clean one into your hands. “Put pressure on that.”

“Yessir,” you said automatically, wincing as you pushed the rag against the wound.

“With all due respect, Garp, this entire farce was your idea,” said Borgard, straightening out from where he had been kneeling next to your cot to cross the room and begin rifling through drawers and cabinets. “I’m sure you can imagine what we’d have to deal with were we to return to headquarters and have to inform Sengoku that our operative was killed en route by a bow-wielding monkey.”

“Eh…” Garp shrugged a shoulder, his own expression souring at the thought. “But hell, at least we know why no one’s made it out of the place now. So we did get some information.”

“And suppose the target had been there?”

“He was.”

Both men froze when you spoke up—Garp halfway through pulling his cigar from his mouth to flick the ashes from the end, Bogard with a drawer halfway shut, both of them slowly turning their heads to look toward you.

“You should probably tell someone at headquarters to update his bounty poster,” you added, tapping at your chin. “He, ah, has a goatee now.”

Both men continued to regard you in stunned silence for several long, tense seconds, glancing at each other as your words slowly sunk in.

Garp’s face split into a grin, and his hearty laughter a moment later completely drowned out his partner’s weary sigh. Bogard slowly closed the drawer, turning around to lean back against the counter behind him, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Were you not instructed to keep your distance?” he said loudly, glowering over at Garp as the older man threw his head back in laughter. You sat up a bit straighter when Bogard turned his glare on you, crossing his arms, frowning at you with the same measure of exasperation. “Had you been seen—”

“I was careful,” you said quickly. “I noticed a light in one of the castle windows. Most of the place is in ruins but the castle is still standing. I only peeked through the corner of the window, he was asleep.”

You decided as his frowned deepened that it was best not to mention how long you had lingered in the windowsill.

“Sounds to me like the kid passed her test with flying colors,” said Garp, still chuckling to himself. He gave you a nod of approval, pointing toward you with the smoldering end of his cigar. “Good work, cadet.”

“It sounds,” said Bogard, pulling the drawer next to him open sharply, “as if our cadet was taking wholly unnecessary risks for the sake of an unnecessarily dangerous and unauthorized ‘test’ of her abilities.” Garp rolled his eyes at the indirect scolding, leaning against the wall of the infirmary again. “Needless to say,” he went on, fishing through the drawer and retrieving a suture kit before shoving it closed, “the next time any of your commanding officers sees fit to pose you with such a mission again…”

He grabbed a clipboard off of the counter, flipped over an empty medical report to its blank side, and tossed it onto the cot next to Garp, before heading back over to sit at the cot across from yours. You watched as he retrieved a large, curved needle and set to threading it, tossing a sharp look at you.

“…you are both advised and encouraged to run it by me first. Understood?” You nodded quickly as he pulled the cloth out of your hands and away from the expansive gash across your arm. “Good. Then you’ll relay what you witnessed during your reconnaissance, and our esteemed vice admiral will take down the report—”

“Why the hell do I have to—”

“Because you’re terrible at applying stitches,” Bogard snapped before Garp could finish his protest. The older man rolled his eyes, snatching up the clipboard and digging a pen out of his pocket. Bogard leaned over with the threaded needle in his hand and added, “This is going to hurt.”

“Probably not much more than nearly having my wing shot off,” you reasoned.

Garp snorted.

Bogard sighed, muttering something under his breath about being surrounded by idiots, before grabbing your wrist and pulling your arm straight, not bothering to give you any warning before jabbing the needle through your skin.

“Just stay still,” he said over the sharp hiss of air your drew in through your teeth at the pain, “and relay your report, cadet."

Next chapter link again, for your convenience

First Chapter Link again, for your convenience

[cloudmancy]

I have no desire to get you in trouble but I would be curious to hear your thoughts on the new episode and the preview because I also have.. thoughts and I'm interested in what other people clocked as not great or kinda.. idk. other people's concerns, because I have had a lot of them and I never see people really talk about those things

they're doing a new format this season where they film a bunch of rp episodes in a row then take a break when there's a battle so the crew can get the battleset ready, so I understand the dissonance. but the tone of this episode from the tone of last episode was SO jarring. I was ready to chew drywall at the end of episode 17 but we head into the episode 18 fight and at the end all I can say is... damn! that sure is a battle that happened. the entire fight felt really low-stakes even though objectively a few of the bad kids were in mortal danger, but the mood at the table was so relaxed and chill and there was almost no roleplay at all... which drove me so crazy

>no rp except for fun silly party stuff (no callbacks to the adaine elven oracle in a storm thing? after all the fun setup last time??)

>fought 8 different antagonists and none of them said a word

>nobody questioned why or what oisin's grandma or all those dragon were doing there they just started taking them out one by one like raid battles in world of warcraft

>cassandra/nightmare king showed up only to not make any impact or get a single word in

>dos2 lady vengeance fight did the floating boat/ballistas/dragon fight better SMH

and then after all of that we're headed straight into ANOTHER battle episode judging by the preview... and it's against the rat grinders and porter/jace! let me out I want PLOT & DIALOGUE fhjy cannot end like this (5 hours straight of battle where they just kill everyone that moves). there's 2 eps left so I really hope they do the last ep as a 4 hour long roleplay only epilogue episode because as we've all seen ending campaigns on a battle leads to frankly really rushed character and world decisions. it's ultra disappointing too because I loved this entire season so much so far. the setup and buildup and plot points and mystery of fhjy is the best they've ever done it in dimension 20 period

ep 18 fhjy battle was a letdown to me... not giving the party an rp episode after 3 hours of loredump + going straight into a final battle without being able to interact with the world after gaining info is bad. they should've had a chance to process everything they learned about house sunstone, porter's plan, the rat grinders being used as ascension fodder, whatever the whole deal behind ambrosia and lucy frostkettle and why they needed a helios cleric in buddy IN ROLEPLAY. I don't want all this stuff explained to me after the battle by brennan or in some throwaway lines in the adventuring party - I want the bad kids to talk to people! I want them to investigate! I want fig to pull some BS with porter knowing the full extent of all his plans. it really sucks for us as an audience too to be hit with all this lore and get approximately 0 time for it to sink into the implications of how the worldbuilding was shaped by it or realizations of "ohhh that's why that happened at the beginning of the season" before we go straight into killing everyone.

with the way this is going I don't have any confidence they're gonna be able to actually empathize at all with the rat grinders too before they start lopping heads off because in battle episodes everyone kind of just. becomes numbers and an objective to take out except for pet favourite npcs of the cast. and they've mostly been interacting with the rat grinders as nuisances all season 😭 I'm PRAYING to be proven wrong and the last 2 episodes of this are fantastic but it's not looking good folks

[mvrtaiswriting]

Hi!

I’m wondering if I could request a sanjixreader about the reader taking a hit that was meant for Sanji but he didn’t realize, yet the reader kept fighting? I’ll leave the ending up to you.

Thank you, and I hope it’s ok

Keep fighting x Black Leg Sanji ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :

i'm really sorry for the amount of time this request took me?? it had been sitting in my drafts FOREVER and I kinda forgot about it I am so DEEPLY SORRY. this was so fun the to write and literally one of my favourite requests ever, so I hope this matches your expectation and that it would be worth the wait!! thank you for being patient with me. hope you enjoy this <;33 +1k words | gender neutral | mention of needles? | usual one piece violence. feel free to reblog, like, and leave a comment. i would very much appreciate it. if you enjoy my works, click here to read more or buy me a coffee.

A soft breeze blew out Sanji's burning cigarette, brushing through his blonde hair almost revealing his left eye. There was no way he could have survived the next attack - he was exhausted from the battle, his enemy being the strongest he had ever met before. Trying to take a puff from the cigarette he kept holding between his lips, Sanji wanted to taste nicotine one last time. As death approached him, all he wanted was the bittersweet company of his dearest friend; he wanted to feel his lungs being hugged by the warm smoke entering his airways, like a mother holds her child. That was it - he didn't have any strength left. Maybe that stupid marimo was right all along, maybe his captain deserved a stronger wing by his side.

Sanji stood still in the middle of the battlefield, waiting for his final act. He kept his eyes closed, his mind wondering what could have been if only he had a better father, if only he didn't let everyone down.

"Wake up, you useless cook!"

Was this death? Did Zoro follow him into the afterlife? No, no. It couldn't be.

"Sanji!"

Zoro screamed again, the metal sound of his swords almost serving as a background melody for the horrors of the battle. Passing an hand through his hair, Sanji noticed he wasn't bleeding - he wondered where was the headache coming from. Running his hands over his body, he noticed how he didn't feel any excruciating pain: no broken bones, no bleeding. Yet he passed out - maybe he just overestimated his enemy; maybe, he underestimated himself. Finally regaining conscience, Sanji looked around the battlefield - and a part of him wished he never did.

Your figure was moving swiftly on the battlefield, but your attacks were slower, weaker than usual. All you could do now was avoid any fatal blow, trying to recover from the one you just received. It didn't take long for Sanji to notice how you were covered in blood, your usual combat style being impeded by the metal piece stabbed in your leg, crossing your limb from one end to the other.

Biting his bottom lip, Sanji lit another cigarette. He was furious, rage galloping through his veins and giving him a rush of adrenaline he never felt before. He felt his muscles tighten, full of a strength he didnt believe he possessed - you protected his life with yours, using your own body as a shield. How could he be so weak? How dare he put you in so much danger? A sea of emotions flooded Sanji's thoughts; he was proud of you and your strength, yet he was scared, frustrated - mad at how he failed to protect you. His eyes were filled of admiration and worry - you endured a critical hit yet you kept fighting.

"Let me."

Sanji was quick to step in, putting his body between you and your enemy. Winking at you with the sexiest smirk painted on his lips, Sanji finally put an end to the battle you both had been fighting for too long. Before he could realise it, you were already lying on the floor unconscious, exhausted from the battle and all the wounds you endured.

The next thing you saw when you opened your eyes was a torchlight, pointed directed at your pupils. Too confused to follow the light as Chopper just ordered you, you tried to stand up. An heavy hand on your shoulder stopped you from moving, forcing you to lay on the mattress.

"Not so fast, mon coeur."

A familiar voice finally said, the French accent in his words revealing his identity straight away. You smiled weakly, realising the hand on your shoulder was Sanji's. Sighing, you stayed still whilst Chopper finished his job. You were full of bandages and stitches, an IV drip connected to your arm.

"Was it really that bad?"

You whined, when Chopper finally closed his medical kit bag. You saw the reindeer nod, dragging one of his little hoof onto his face.

"You're lucky to still have your leg!"

Chopper whined, frustrated with the way you were minimising your injury. Tears started forming in his tiny eyes, making you nod and fall silent - you knew he was genuinely worried and he was probably right about it.

When Chopper finally left the room, you felt Sanji slowly sitting down on the side of the bed, your mattress slowly sinking.

"You shouldn't have done that."

Sanji finally says. His tone is calm and full of worry, yet his words stung like salt on an open cut. His hand slowly reached your face, caressing your cheeks, his fingertips delicately tickling your skin. Biting your tongue, you hold back your explanations - he probably knows you were only trying to protect him, yet he was ready to scold you like a little child. You were fine, injured but alive. And you would do it again if you had to - protecting the love of your life from a potentially fatal blow? You would do it again in an heart beat.

"I love you."

These three words slip out of Sanji's mouth in a whisper, almost as if he didn't want to let them go. But now they were out in the open, filling the hospital room you were lying in.

"I love you and I want you to stay alive."

Sanji reiterated, clearing his throat. The words almost got stuck in his throat - flashback of the battles coming to him again in a blur. Seeing you collapsed on the floor, covered in blood with countless wounds all over your body. It was too much to take. He always thought nothing could scare him anymore, he always thought that there couldn't be a bigger pain than the one his father inflicted on him. But that was before this, it was before always losing the love of his life because he wasn't strong enough.

"I love you too, stupid cook. I love you and will stay alive to save your ass." You giggled, causing him to blush. Sanji stared at you for a second, the softest of smiles forming on his lips before he leaned down, placing a sweet kiss on your lips. You were safe, you were his.

[inlovewithpandora]

- Let Me In -

Pairing: Hobie x fem!Spider!reader

Request: [ 🎸 anon ] Hello! I have a request for a Hobie x reader:) | If you are okay with it (it's ok if not!) can you do a comfort fic where reader is struggling with suicidal thoughts + self harm and they haven't really been taking care of themselves properly and is just always thinking they shouldn't be alive ect. Then one day Hobie comes to their house through their bedroom window (who needs doors?) but he finds them in their bathroom abt to self harm and comforts them.

Synopsis: Being Spiderwoman hasn't been an easy task for you. The sacrifice, dedication, and having to turn your life upside down to accommodate your powers was making living day to day difficult for you so you begin to wonder if you should take matters into your own hands and end your suffering.

Content: Angst, hurt/comfort, suicidal thoughts, act of self-harm (and lightly descriptive) mention of blood, mention of scars and wounds, crying, reader struggling with depression/illness, Hobie comforting reader and being there for her

If any of the content above makes you uncomfortable please DNI!!!

Author’s Note: Thank you for sending this req in! I hope you enjoy and that it meets your expectations! This was a really good request and I enjoyed writing it even though my heart was breaking for reader. Let me know what you think by sending an anonymous ask or comment if you feel comfortable!

Word Count: 1.1k

Extra: Requests are open! Please read rules before requesting! || Likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated❤️! Links: Navigation || Atsv Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

As you sit on the rim of your bathtub, you couldn’t help but look at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was scattered across your head, your eyes were sunken and puffy, and your body was covered with old battle wounds from fighting different evils of the universe, but the most fresh scars were the ones that adorned your arms.

Being Spiderwoman hasn't been an easy task for you. The sacrifice, dedication, and having to turn your life upside down to accommodate your powers were making living day to day difficult for you. Coming home with fresh wounds every night began to take a physical and mental toll on your health. The stress and pressure of protecting the city of Brooklyn was starting to become too much. You wanted to talk to Hobie, but you didn’t want to worry him with your problems, so you decided to keep your feelings bottled up which made you resort to self-harm, hoping to release some of your tension and finally feel a sense of relief.

The more you began to cut, the more you distanced yourself from the world. You haven’t been to HQ, spending time with your friends, and most importantly you haven’t talked to Hobie in almost a week. Your new way of spending your time was cooped up in your apartment, drowning in your sorrows.

It has gotten to the point where your pain became so insufferable that you began to think if living was worthwhile anymore. You couldn’t go on like this, dealing with the weight of being Spiderwoman on your shoulders. Thinking about putting yourself in the face of danger and praying that you didn’t get severely injured or even worse: ending up plummeting to your death.

You felt like if you were going to do that, you might as well leave the world on your own terms, the way you thought would be appropriate. Were you currently thinking clearly? No. This was the illness talking. The older, happier version of yourself would never even let thoughts like this cross her mind, but now… now it was too late. This was the only way to make that dark cloud that hung over your head move away.

Hobie has been worried about you. The only time he talks to you now is through text and when he finds a way to get a hold of you, the conversations were dry, so he can’t even get a true feeling to see how you’re doing.

When he finishes his patrol duties, he decides to swing by your apartment, just to make sure you’re okay. Once he’s outside your window, he opens it slowly and climbs inside. When his feet hit the floor, he turns around and closes the window behind him, then tries to figure out where you are.

As his eyes scan the room, he locates the sound of sobs from the bathroom which alerted him, thinking you got hurt from slipping in the shower or something of that sort. When he reaches the bathroom door, he peeps his head inside, which reveals you with tears pouring down your cheeks while you run a razor across your skin. As Hobie watches the blood trickle down your arm and drip onto your marble floor, his stomach churns and his heart breaks at the scene unraveling in from him.

As you raise the sharp object again, almost pressing it deep into your arm, Hobie barges in, not being able to watch you hurt yourself any longer. When the door widens and you see him looking at you with a concerned and worried expression, you drop the razor, pull your jacket sleeves down, and rush over to the other side of the bathroom.

“Leave, Hobie.” You turn your back towards him, not wanting him to see how you’ve completely let yourself go. This isn’t how you wanted your reunion with him to go, you cutting and him bearing witness, having to see you in such a distraught state, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

Hobie walks up to you, attempting to wrap his arms around, but you swat them away as more tears fill your eyes. “Hobie, I said leave! I don’t want you here! I-I don’t want you to see me!” As you attempt to raise your voice, it begins to crack due to the sob trying to make an appearance.

“Love, please,” Hobie's heart gets so heavy with each moment. He didn’t know you were doing this, he never knew that you had a burden so heavy that you had to resort to this method to find a sense of peace. At this moment, all he wants to do is be here for you and help as much as he can provide.

He gently places his arm on your shoulder, hoping you would turn around and face him. “Let me in, allow me to help you. I promise I won’t judge. I-I just want to help you, please.” The sincerity in his voice soothes you enough to turn around and face him. Without wasting another second, you run into his arms and begin to cry into his chest. Hobie immediately embraces you, wrapping his arms around you to make you feel secure and comfortable, to let you know that he is here specifically to comfort you.

“It’s okay love, let it all out. I’m here for you now. I’m gonna help you through this.” He kisses your head softly as he rubs your back, continuing to comfort you with sweet and reassuring words, letting you know that he’ll never leave your side no matter what.

Once your cries begin to lessen and you begin to calm down, you and Hobie sit down together. “I know you probably don’t wanna talk right now and that’s fine. I don’t want to push you into anything you’re not comfortable with, but I want to let you know that you don’t have to go through this alone. I will forever stand by your side through thick and thin, good and bad. No matter what, I will always love you and that’ll never change.” At this moment, you are so thankful for Hobie. He didn’t freak out on you, shame you, or force you to do anything which you appreciated. Knowing that Hobie saw you at your lowest and still accepted you meant the world to you.

“Thank you, Hobie.” You speak softly as you look up at him with glistening eyes, new tears ready to be shed, but this time they are tears of joy that you had someone like Hobie to lean on.

“Of course, now let’s clean up these cuts and then for the rest of the day, it’s just me and you.”

I hope you enjoyed❤️!

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Editor - @justmemyselfandthemoon

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[hurtmyfavsthanks]

spinning off of the death being peaceful idea, what about possession? like. character is possessed, and instantly thrown into a bone deep peace, floating in darkness away from their body, oscillating between the void that held them and awakening within their own most peaceful memories. after they’re freed, the can’t sleep. they’d always had anxiety, but after feeling what it was like to be safe…they couldn’t function.

(context)

Oh I love that!! Honestly I’m a big fan of ideas that focus on Whumpee’s mental state and experience while being possessed/mind controlled/ect. I think it can be very interesting, not to mention what sort of recovery would be needed after. It’s a niche interest but VERY high on my list of favorite tropes. 

I really like this idea, because it makes possession tempting to some capacity. It’s helplessness yes, but it’s helplessness that comes with a level of relief you couldn’t get otherwise. It’s control that makes you miss it afterwards, even after you’ve come back to your senses. And I’m so normal about that (lying). 

Just like, imagine. A team coming into fight a superpowered Whumper, unsure of what exactly they’ll face but armed to the teeth and hopefully ready for whatever they’ll face. 

There are more dangerous people on the team than Whumpee. There’s the powerful leader and their trusted second in command, both staring ahead with sharp eyes and trained confidence. There’s the medic standing near, prepared to offer support at a moment’s notice. The team would be greatly hindered with the loss of any one of them. But Whumper isn’t looking for the short term victory.

When Whumper’s eyes glow with power, when their hand extends towards their opponents, it’s Whumpee that they point to.

There’s a reason for it. The shadows beneath their eyes, the anxious wringing of their hands, the perpetual look of worry plastered on their face even before the battle began…one look at Whumpee and Whumper knows exactly who they’re dealing with. Whumper knows their type very, very well.

Whumpee feels the domination like a chill that settles on their body and refuses to leave. A chill that grabs onto their very being and pulls them down. Down beyond their body and the ground beneath them, down into  a darkness miles away from their team. 

 The last thing Whumpee does before their eyes go blank is let out a startled, choked scream.

Whumpee had expected it to hurt. They’d prepared for it, every muscle tightening in the millisecond between realizing they’d been targeted and succumbing to Whumper’s power. But the force pulling their mind down never tightens to the point of agony. Whumpe isn’t crushed, but embraced, swatted in a grip that's both gentle and inescapable. 

 It doesn't hurt. Despite the chill they’d felt, the darkness they’re sinking into isn’t cold. It’s warm and cozy, like the tempting comfort of their bed on a cold morning. They can’t hear the tense voices of their teammates or even their own pounding heartbeat. The dark is silent, but not unplesantly so.

It’s peaceful.

And I LOVE the idea of their positive memories being used to trap them. In the brief moments where their consciousness isn’t entirely engulfed in peaceful silence, Whumpee is surrounded by their friends. Smiling and peaceful and happy, not a hint of stress on any of their features. When the darkness splits apart, Whumpee finds themselves reliving the most comforting moments, surrounded by joy and free from stress. 

Whumpee knows something is wrong. They haven’t forgotten Whumper, haven’t forgotten those finally, terrifying moments before they were overcome. And yet the terror that should come with that memory never comes. There isn’t an ounce of fear or stress left in them, as if those emotions remained in their now distant body. Even their usual anxiety—the constant vigilante their work required, the general worries and stresses of life—had simply vanished into thin air. 

Whumpee felt light, as if the very concept of fear had been stripped from their mind. There were no worries about the future or even the present, no discontentment. They hadn’t felt that content in their entire life. 

There, embraced by that peace, it’s hard to care about something happening so, so far away from them. It’s easier to snuggle into the warmth, embrace the peace, and rest. 

The next time they open their eyes—their eyes, the ones sat in the body they’d been locked out of for minutes or hours or days—Whumpee is on the ground. 

They hurt. They’re becoming aware of throbbing aches across their body, something wet and warm dripping down their face. They can feel snapped bones in their fingers, pulsing with the heartbeat that sounds too loud in their ears. Whumpee’s body was returned to them bruised and aching. 

Their heart is pounding, mind swirling with disorientation and growing dread. Their fear pours back into them alongside the pain. 

It takes a moment for their vision to clear. When it does, they see Caretaker’s face above them. There’s tears in their eyes, expression warped with fear and hope. They’re bleeding, littered with bruises just like Whumpee is. 

Slowly, with Caretaker’s help, they sit up. Their teammates look down at them with worry and poorly hidden anxiety. Whumper is nowhere to be seen. 

They all return to their base, eventually. Whumpee doesn’t remember anything of the fight, They only remember the quiet, peaceful rest.  But the bruises on their fists match those on Leader’s face. Their body aches from a struggle they can’t remember, there’s blood under Whumpee’s nails that they know isn’t their own. 

Whumpee doesn’t ask what Whumper made them do. They let their eyes glaze over as they’re debriefed, mind skittering away from that painful truth. Nobody pushes them to remember. 

It’s difficult, trying to return to normalcy. Everything is simply overwhelming. Whumpee’s filled with a constant anxiety that can’t shake, their nerves burning with a newfound sensitivity. Their body aches with the evidence of a fight they don’t remember, making proper rest impossible to achieve. They can’t stop noticing the worried glances their team gives them, the bruises still lingering on their bodies. 

Whumpee can’t stop noticing the way Caretaker flinches when Whumpee moves too quickly around them, only to hide it behind a guilty smile. The guilt Whumpee feels at the sight hurts most of all. 

It’s exhausting. Existing, suddenly, is overwhelmingly exhausting. They’re on edge like they’ve never been before, guilt and pain burning holes in their mind. 

Whumpee misses the quiet. They miss the peace helplessness provided, the safety from the anxiety they’re constantly faced with. It makes them sick, sends a nauseating wave of self loathing up their throat, and yet that feeling itself only makes the longing stronger. 

Nothing compares to it. No amount of sleeping medication desperately swallowed, no amount of weighted blankets, nothing can recreate that serenity. Whumper gave them a taste of true, pure peace, and now their mind cannot settle for anything less. 

Whumper isn’t surprised when, two weeks later, Whumpee crawls back to them like a sick dog. 

They look horrible. The deep eyebags carved into their eyes are darker than the bruises still littering their body. They’ve lost weight since Whumper last saw them. 

Whumpee looks exhausted. They look disgusted with themselves, a look of self loathing etched into their face. They look desperate. 

They look exactly like Whumper expected them to. Whumper knows their type very well. 

This time, Whumpee doesn’t flinch as Whumper calls their power. They don’t brace themselves for pain. 

This time, the last thing Whumpee does before being submerged is gasp out a sob of relief.

[im-just-a-bug]

Finished In Stars and Time last night and want to put down my thoughts bc that was nuts. Spoilers ahead v

Theres still much I havent seen, and ive only gotten one ending but man this game blew me away. Here are some things i loved about this game.

Timeloops are such a common plot device, a way to help the mc level up for the big bad, and the way they flipped that narrative on its head! The instant shift from "this is a gift to help me!" To "who did I think I was, how stupid," is so satisfying.

The music, at the end, terrified me. That first time Headmaiden broke down, and the music glitched and deteriorated, i realized oh. Oh fuck this is a kind of horror game isn't it. I wasnt wrong.

The changes in character art!!

The subtle things; the mirror never catches you by surprise again. Your battle sprite looks bored. You stop making silly noises at the birds.

That moment in act 3 where everything is finally going right, your companions love you and youve never felt more content, and Siffrin wins and gets to the end and they loop anyway. The way that the first time his party notices anything wrong is when he is completley and utterly heartbroken, the way they run to him. And he wakes up in the meadow, to allies that don't love him anymore. Who have no idea what hes going through. Who aren't grateful. And love didnt win the game so they go searching for answers and it makes sense but it makes everything worse.

You talk to King, and for a second you think everything might work out because stranger things have happened. And after a whole game of Bonnie being safe, Bonnie running away. Bonnie never being in any real danger. King picks them up and crushes them in front of you to 'teach you a lesson.' And the terror on Sifs face the next loop they reach the King startled me deeply, and reminded me that this game is a god damn masterpiece.

The way this game sets you up to stop caring about how you treat others, only to give you a real ending after what was essentially the WORST loop youve ever had?? Incredible. Siffrin doing everything he can to manipulate his way to the end, even if everyone hates him bc hes just so desperate. There's no point being nice, there's no point pretending in the end, bc he hopes there won't be another loop but in their heart they Know there will be, so what's the point? And he fumbles every interaction, makes every one of his friends hate his guts, and then has to fight the King alone. And then they save him anyway. They follow him and pick him up at the end (which cinematically is a God damn masterpiece all on its own God DAMN) and you figure out the whole time Siffrin was looping not bc the country fumbled a Wish, but because he didn't want his friends to go. He wanted to stay with them so badly he wished for it on accident, and the universe listened.

I haven't even gotten into how in awe I was, putting together the little puzzle pieces of Sifs backstory, of his island. Even in act 1 I was squinting my eyes. Several mentions of a whole island wiped from existence no one can remember? A protagonist with severe memory issues and no connection to or knowledge of any culture left? God I love this game.

And Loop. I didnt learn Loops story on my playthrough, but i looked into it and man. Its so incredibly neat that you have this character, this other siffrin, who went through these loops so many times they got desperate enough to make a whole NEW wish, unspecified and uncaring, just wanting something to change. Wanting help. And got shoved into our Siffrins reality instead, because wishes never work how you want them to. Finding their star room and their journal and trinkets and lore was so incredibly cool!! Though im confused why the journal says they made a cooy of themself, but their battle dialogue says they got shoved into a different reality. Idk, but it's still cool. And their anger, that someone else got their happy ending? Fucking mwah.

These characters are so complex and interesting and a day later im still in awe about it. There are so many parts of this game i havent even mentioned here that are like a punch in the face. So many little interactions, so many art shifts.

I loved this game deeply, and the only thing stopping me from playing more is guilt at taking away that ending. When a game makes u care about the characters that much, you know its a great game.

[magicjesuscup]

I have feelings towards solo-romanced Halsin's ending/epilogue.

Halsin and Tav celebrate all night, and in the morning Halsin starts throwing out mixed signals. He's leaving to take care of the kids that were orphaned after the netherbrain fight and doesn't give any indication that he wants Tav to go with him, but it also doesn't sound like his feelings for Tav have changed.

I would've been (1) confused by the lack of an option to go with him, (2) hurt because this sounds like a break-up speech (like a "we shouldn't be together anymore, but let's stay friends" type thing), and (3) concerned that something's wrong because he's otherwise been a very good communicator up until this point.

It looks like originally going with him wasn't even an option (which was a weird choice to offer him as a love interest, but not give players a way to stay with him at the end of the game), and when that was patched in, they did it in the meanest way they could. Tav's line is:

Visit as soon as I can? Don't be an ass, Halsin. I'll come with you right now.

Oof. I wouldn't talk to my lover like this, and I don't know that I'd stay with someone who talked to me like that. I also want to note that I think you only get the cute, bragging "I love Halsin" lines to say to the other companions at the party if you call him an ass here first. Thanks, I hate it. I wish it was something more along the lines of:

Why can't I go with you?

Either option could've led to (most) of Halsin's dialog that followed.

But what about all that you'll miss out on? Your name will be feted in this city - there will be parades, medals, feasts, hands to be shaken, babies to be kissed…are you truly sure.

I know in the epilogue he's still surprised Tav chose him, and I'm trying to figure out why, and why he didn't throw out Tav accompanying him as an option. I get that a lot of people he loved/cared about didn't stay in life, but none of them left him voluntarily. His parents, the archdruid before him, and his peers died to either illness or the shadow curse. Thaniel's absence is only temporary if you lift the shadow curse, and the only reason he "left" in the first place was because he was trapped by the curse.

It would've made way more sense to me if he had a little freak out after falling in love with Tav and having the realization that the person he loves could turn into an illithid thrall. They would be gone, and he might have to kill what's left if they tried to eat his or someone else's brain. Also, it would absolutely be horrific to watch Tav go through ceremorphosis. Having a mind flayer parasite isn't the same as being sick, but it is a physical affliction that Halsin can't fix. He's weirdly positive that they'll find a cure, and they never do (at least not in the sense of medication or surgery).

It also would've made sense if he had a bit of a breakdown if Tav asks for one last kiss before the final battle starts ramping up. Things are getting stupid dangerous, and this has historically been when his friends start dying. But, nope he's still super calm here too and optimistic that they'd live (although after their night together, he admits he didn't dare believe they'd actually survive).

I'm not sure if they did the whole, "I'm going to ride off into the sunset, but watch the horizon for you everyday," thing to add some drama, but it feels out of place considering these other options. If Tav was going to "leave" it would've been due to the parasite or not surviving the battle. In the epilogue, those dangers have passed. If anything, it's at this part of the story where he should've felt most secure in their relationship because he's never had someone leave him "just because."

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐠 𝐈𝐧 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮 - Javier Peña

"you've got me in a...CHOKE. HOOOOLD. even if it huuurts meee, even if I can't sleep. show me the waaaaaaaaayyyyy" - Chokehold, Sleep Token. Mood for my Pedro Pascal era

Summary: It seems the only way to get Javier to talk about his feelings is by having the person he cares about having a near death experience. Not the most healthy way to confess your feelings for someone, but hey, it works.

Warnings: unrequited but not actually unrequited love, inaccurate descriptions of how the DEA operates, Javier needs a therapist, bad wingman Steve, character study ish? that's mostly in Javi's POV, gun wounds and violence, hurt/comfort, whump, kinda forced proximity, eventual fluff, sexual refences but no smut this time (shocker, right?)

word count | 7.7k🤙🏻

Javier’s team had found out where one of Escobar’s men was. This was huge. If he and his team could catch him, get him to flip on his boss; he could snag the man that week.

The whole building was hustling and running around, preparing to go after this guy as soon as possible, just as soon as they got word everybody was in position. Javier’s nerves threatened to overflow, just the thought of being one step closer to catching Pablo Escobar and taking down his cartel after evading justice again and again, his body was set ablaze and his fingers twitched with excitement.

There was just one problem.

As Javier was putting on his bulletproof vest, from across the office, you caught his eye. That wasn’t abnormal in the slightest, you had always unknowingly begged for the attention of Javier’s gaze ever since he met you years ago; but this time, seeing you put an unwanted pit in his stomach. To everyone else, you looked normal, getting ready for this upcoming battle like the rest of the people on this mission. But all Javier saw was you preparing to meet your demise.

Javier wasn’t normally so nervous about things like this. In this line of work, people get hurt, some even die, that’s just what happens unfortunately. But the thought of it possibly happening to you didn’t sit right with him at all. If it was his call to make, he’d make you stay here away from all the action. You wouldn’t be in a ten mile radius of a single cartel member. But of course, that wasn’t his call to make, all he had was his convincing charm and his history with you to get you to even consider sitting out. Before thinking about it any longer, Javier started taking the steps it took to make it to your desk, the one that was always just a couple feet away from his but somehow always felt too far.

From the reluctant expression on your face as you looked up at him, Javier could already tell this conversation isn’t going to go the way he wants it to, as most conversations with you; but it was too late to back out now. “Almost ready, Peña?” Peña, always fuckin’ Peña. You made a point never to call him anything other than his last name. Though, he couldn’t blame you, not after everything he’s done to you. But it still made a tiny dagger go through his heart every time you refused to call him Javi. 

You clearing your throat awkwardly made Javier suddenly aware of how creepy he was being, just staring at you, lost in his own thoughts. He cleared his own throat to avoid any possible voice cracks or stutters before finally responding to your very simple question. “I am.”

You raised an eyebrow, a look of amusement gracing your features which Javier always found adorable and would’ve still thought that if it wasn’t for how goddamn humiliating it was to have that expression directed at his being an idiot. “That’s it? You walked over here to tell me you’re ready?” A ghost of a smirk played at your lips, your very kissable lips.

Fuck, Javi, be professional. “No.” He stuttered briefly. “No.”

“Just out with it, man, we don’t have all day.”

Javier sighed in annoyance, placing his hands on his hips and looking down at you with a frown. “Look…, we all know how dangerous this guy is-”

You scoffed, already shaking your head. “No, no, no-”

“So, I was thinking you’d be of more use here. Hold down the fort while we try to bring this guy in.” He tried to keep his heartbeat under control as you stood up from your sitting position on the top of your desk, standing at your full height, obviously trying to come off as a bit intimidating; but you weren’t, not in that way, at least. Javier was more afraid of what was about to come out of your mouth.

“Will you be staying here?” You asked, looking him straight in the eyes; he could practically see all the obscenities floating around in your head that desperately wanted to come out, but couldn’t as to be somewhat professional.

Javier sighed quietly. “No, obviously not.”

“Why not?” You shrugged nonchalantly. “If this guy is so dangerous, you should stay here too. With me. Right?”

Ignoring the butterflies swirling around in his stomach as with me kept repeating over and over in his head, he grit his teeth to mask his expression into subtle anger. “It’s different.”

You crossed your arms and leaned against your desk. “Okay, Peña, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go on this mission.”

Peña, his thoughts screamed at him. You used to call him Javi. Because I can’t bear the thought of losing you… “Because you’d be a liability. You’d only get in the way, and we can’t afford that right now.”

“Remind me, who was one of the first women to ever get assigned this case?” You asked, trying not to sound smug as everyone in this office knew the answer to that question.

“You were…” He replied with a scowl, his words sounded pained like they were being ripped out of him.

“Exactly. So, there’s no way in hell you’re gonna keep me from trying to catch this motherfucker. Okay? I can take care of myself.” You shoved your pointer finger directly on his chest, pushing him back a tiny bit.

Javier tried to ignore Steve’s shit eating grin as he walked back over to his desk dejectedly. That fuckin’ asshole. “Shoot. I’m surprised you ain’t dead as a doornail, with the way she’s lookin’ at ya.” Steve started as soon as Javier sat back down in his creaky old chair, massaging his temples from the oncoming headache that was surely going to feel like he was being bludgeoned with a hammer. “What did you do this time, Peña?”

Javier scowled and rolled his eyes, pouring himself a drink. “I just told her, I think she’d be better off staying away from the front lines.”

Steve snorted obnoxiously. “And what? You think she’d stay here? God, Peña, you really ain’t yourself when you’re smitten.”

Javier resisted the urge to throw his glass of whiskey right at Steve’s hillbilly face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Dude, you wanna get in her pants do bad it makes you look stupid. And makes you act even stupider, no offense.”

“Offense taken. Asshole.” He growled. “And I’m not smitten. It’s just…this mission is dangerous.”

“She’s a big girl, Javi. She can take care of herself. I’m sure she told ya as much after chewing you out.” More like tearing me apart into itty bitty pieces until I was nothing but ground fuckin’ dust. “You know what you need, Javi?” Oh, this should be good. “A therapist. I’ve recently been seeing one and man, let me tell ya, there’s stuff I’ve learned about myself that I didn’t even know.” Javier laughed. Like, really laughed. “I’m serious, man. Might help you figure out those commitment issues.”

“I already have a therapist.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to laugh. “Oh, yeah? Who?” Steve’s amused grin quickly turned into an annoyed grimace as Javier held up his bottle of whiskey that read: Jack Daniels.

Nah, Javier didn’t need a goddamn therapist. He was just fine…

He was, in fact, not fine.

Javier couldn’t stop the nervous twitch in his hands as everyone filed out of the office as soon as one of their undercover officers finally gave the signal that the cartel member was in place, rushing to the trucks to get to the place in town as soon as possible. He gave one last glance over to you as you got into a different truck that was going to be part of the surrounding force to make sure the member couldn’t escape. Honestly, Javier would’ve felt better if you were on his team instead, but things just didn’t work out that way. You’d be fine…you were going to be fine.

The drive over felt like forever when in reality it was probably around a few minutes. Javier knew he never should’ve talked to you before this mission, conversations with you always put him on edge, for various reasons. But he also knew he’d curse himself later if he didn’t try to talk you out of it once. Now, he couldn’t stop thinking about all the possible outcomes of this attempted arrest. What would happen if they fail? What would happen if this cartel member had a machine gun on him? What would happen if, god forbid, you get shot and killed? Would Javi be able to live with himself?

God, I’m so fucking stupid.

Javier couldn’t escape the onslaught of memories that flashed through his mind, each one causing a heat to rise to his face and guilt chew at him from the inside out. 

It was only several months ago that you confessed your attraction to him. The office was celebrating a recent successful mission and people were drinking. You had gotten drunk, Javier being a little buzzed. You both did teasing dances around each other ever since you met, but Javier never thought you’d want to take things further. But with a few shots loosening your tongue, you told Javi that you really liked him. You loved dancing, but your legs were threatening to give out in exhaustion if Javi kept spinning you around in his little tango. You were gorgeous, of course, but Javier didn’t really know what to say and you noticed that. For a drunk person, you were very astute.

It’s not that Javier wasn’t attracted to you, he was, very much so. He enjoyed your company, he loved the back and forth that seemed to come so naturally to the two of you, he could actually imagine dating you and maybe even more. But Javier didn’t date, not anymore. He fucked. He had one night stands. He didn’t have time for dating. He didn’t have commitment issues, he was just…okay, he was afraid. Javier wasn’t afraid of much. He was a DEA agent, he got shot at on a regular basis, putting his life on the line every day to keep drugs off the streets. And yet, somehow, you managed to be the one thing he’s scared of the most and he can’t even tell you why.

Your face when he turned you down would be forever etched into his mind. It wasn’t even noticeable, it was a split second of sadness crossing your features that he almost missed it. But he didn’t. Every smile you ever gave him, your flustered expression whenever he flirted with you a bit too hard, all burned away by that one subtle despondent look. It sobered you up pretty quickly. You said you didn’t take it to heart, that you understood and apologizing if you made things awkward. He was your carpool that night, so the ride home was…tense, to put it lightly. You lived in the same apartment building, hence the carpool, but you lived a floor up. Javier thought about walking you to your apartment, like he usually would do just to spend that extra time with you when he didn’t have to, but he just couldn’t. Little by little, that mask of nonchalant withered away as you got more tired, unable or just unwilling to keep up the façade. Javi couldn’t look at you anymore, not if he wanted his heart to stay intact. His friendship with you would never be the same after that night. 

He fucked up. He really fucked up. But he thought it was the best response at the time. He couldn’t get into any type of relationship, much less with a coworker. How unprofessional is that? How stupid would he be, in this line of work, to potentially put a target on your back by being someone he cares about? But of course, the way you slowly distanced yourself from him after his rejection made the wall he built around his heart melt away like acid and he couldn’t stop himself from caring about you even if he tried. And try, he did. He kept telling himself it was for the best. Even when you stopped carpooling with him to work, he tried not to care. Every time he felt jealous when he noticed someone else flirting with you, he told himself coworkers don’t feel the urge to put thirteen bullets into another person’s skull just by smiling at you. Because that’s all you were and would ever be: a coworker.

A coworker.

A coworker.

But coworkers can care about each other’s well being and want what’s best for them though, right?

…fuck.

Javier was losing it. He was fuckin’ losing it, and at a time like this? When he was about to try to catch a highly dangerous criminal? At a time where he was being counted on? No. He couldn’t think about you now. He cleared his mind. All images of your face were being shot out of his brain by a M16 assault rifle, just in time for the trucks to arrive at their destination.

The cartel member tried his best to escape, shooting plenty of rounds at every officer and agent that came into view. But it was proven all for nothing, for him and the police. The motherfucker shot himself before they could arrest him. Of course. They could never catch a fuckin’ break, could they?

Everyone was in low spirits, some now spiritless. To think, being in this field for so long that Javier might get used to seeing the dead bodies. To a point, but he couldn’t help but frown when he saw the lifeless faces of people he knew, people he worked with. Hijo de puta, Javier wishes that cartel member was still alive so he could torture information out of him himself. He’d get over it, same as everyone else. But Javier found himself a secret weapon that always made him feel better after a mission went wrong, he’d just look at you, safe, and all stress would leave him in that moment to know that you made it out alive at least. It was so secret that Javi didn’t even know he did that, not until he tried searching for you after the dust cleared and everything settled down a little bit. Steve was with you, so you’d be easy to find. All he had to do was look for a bright blonde redneck sore thumb.

Javier’s frown deepened when he found Steve, only to not find you standing with him. The look on Steve’s face as he saw Javi coming didn’t bode well either. Where were you? “Javi.” Steve acknowledged in a soft voice…way too soft.

Javier looked around before fixing his gaze on Steve’s downcast expression. He was just upset about the mission failing, right? “Where is she?” He didn’t even have to say your name, anyone who knew Javier would immediately know who he was talking about. Steve sighed heavily, unable to meet his gaze. Javier burst like a dam, scowling and enraged, pulling Steve to him by his collar roughly. “Where is she?” He yelled, forcing the man to make eye contact with him.

“Javi, Javi, calm down.” Steve pleaded, placing his hands on his shoulders to try and soothe him. “She got shot, but she’s gonna be fine. Okay? She’s on her way to the hospital right now.”

Javier’s heart jumped into his throat, making his next words come out shaky and desperate. “Drive me there. Now.”

“But Javi, we gotta-”

“Now!” There was no arguing with Javier whenever he got this way, this angry, this violent. Steve would’ve had better luck fighting a bear.

Javier almost punched Steve when he kept giving him worried glances as he drove. Javi could not keep still. His hands were twitching, his leg was bouncing, he bit the dead skin on his fingertips, and when he started biting the not so dead flesh, he moved on to his lips, which wasn’t much better. It didn’t take but a minute until he tasted copper spreading across his tongue. Anything, he was doing anything to keep himself from screaming, resorting to pulling at his hair. No, there was no way you were leaving him like this. Steve said you’d be fine, but Javi didn’t even know where you got shot, he didn’t know how deep the bullet wounds were or if you were already being treated in the ambulance. He didn’t fucking know. God, please, he just wants to hear you call him Javi again. He doesn’t even care if you say it how you say his last name, full of annoyance and resentment, it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters until he sees you alive in a hospital bed.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Steve all but had to hold Javier back as he tried to check in, the impatient attitude and short fuse threatening to get them kicked out. Besides, it’s not like they could visit you now, you were still in surgery and it would take another hour or so before you’d get out. Javier could tell Steve just wanted to yell at him, say some stupid phrase like “hold your darn tootin’ horses” or some bullshit like that. Javier didn’t want to wait, he wanted to see you. He didn’t want to sit in some uncomfortable plastic chair for an hour not knowing if you were okay or not. So he stood, and he paced. He paced and paced until his legs started to wobble. He would stay here, he would stay all night if he had to. There was no way he was going home without seeing you. But in actuality, he wouldn’t have to wait that long.

It was only an hour and some change until the doctor finally came out into the waiting room, Javier and Steve shooting up from their chairs instantly. “She’s okay. The bullet didn’t go too deep into the abdomen and we managed to remove it without doing any more damage. We’ll keep her here for about a week and then we can send her home if there aren’t any more complications. She’s still under anesthesia but it’s wearing off now, so she should be awake soon. We’ll let you know when she’s ready to see you.”

“We can’t see her now?” Javier almost growled, causing Steve to place his hand on his shoulder before turning to the, quite frankly, startled doctor.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Such bullshit.” Javi grumbled under his breath, sitting down in the same seat, not even standing up long enough before his ass stopped tingling from being numb. His back hurt like a bitch, and his joints felt all stiff. God, he hated hospitals. 

“Don’t worry, Javs, you’ll be able to see your girlfriend soon.”

“Shut the fuck up, Murphy. She’s not my fuckin’ girlfriend.”

Steve wasn’t phased by his hostility, only shrugging with a smirk. “But you want her to be.”

Javier groaned, running his hands over his face as his headache came back in full force. “Now, Murphy? You wanna have this conversation now?”

“If not now, when?”

“Never.”

“Exactly.” Javier rolled his eyes, wringing his hands together and avoiding eye contact with the other man. “You like her, man. It’s nothing to be ashamed about. You know, before I met Connie, I never thought I wanted a girlfriend either, much less a wife. I thought I’d be…tied down, I guess. I wanted the freedom to do whatever I wanted. But now…I can’t imagine life without her.”

I already can’t imagine a life without her… “She’s our coworker.”

“Hey, you can’t help who you fall in love with, man.” Javier cringed at the word love. He wasn’t in love with you. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, pendejo, his inner thoughts told him. “As far as I can tell, and I do have better vision than you, I think she feels the same way.” Oh, buddy, you have no idea. “I say go for it. We get this extremely short life once, a chance of it being even shorter in our line of work, you can’t take things for granted and you can’t risk missing out on something that can be beautiful.”

Javier looked over at Steve with a raised brow. “Getting wifed up has made you way more sentimental, man.”

Steve shrugged. “But you know it’s true.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“You know what, this conversation is making me miss my wife. Let me know how this whole thing goes, okay? Seriously. I care about her too.” And with that, Steve took off, leaving Javier alone with his thoughts, along with the occasional cough or sneeze from other waiting room patients. But other than that, deadly silent. One of the things Javi hates most about hospitals. The silence. The people waiting to hear if their loved ones have survived or not, or waiting to see if they live or die themselves. It reeked of death and he thought: you don’t belong here. You’d never belong here. This place isn’t lively enough for your standards. You shined most working with other people, making others feel at ease with your attitude, caring and compassionate, one of the reasons you even got into this job in the first place. You cared about what happened to people, and you wanted the best for everyone. Maybe that’s why Javier was so drawn to you, ever the pessimist, your light was like a breath of fresh air. Being in the DEA hardened him as a person, seeing the worst in people almost on a daily basis, it can make a person jaded. But you never let the stuff you see change who you were; you still loved, you still cared, you still tried to find the fun in any situation and Javi admired you for that, not that he’d ever admit it.

“She’s ready to see you now.” The doctor’s voice knocked Javier out of his thoughts, his reminiscence being replaced by nervous eagerness.

It was only then, a few steps away from entering your hospital room, that Javier realized he was still clad in his bulletproof vest. He hadn’t gone home to wash off the light splatters of blood or his sweat coated body, and his hair was a tousled bird’s nest. He surely looked like a hot mess. But then he started to wonder when he ever got nervous about his appearance. Jesus, you really fucked him up. He couldn’t help but fix his hair a little before entering your room, hopefully managing to pat down some wild curls. But the smile on your face as he finally came into view told him he didn’t look as bad as he thought. That smile also pierced right through his hardened exterior, a breath of relief when he saw that you were okay.

“Hey, stranger.” You spoke lazily, clearly still a little loopy from the anesthesia.

Javier took a seat next to your bed, looking you over and frowning when he saw all the tubes attached to you. You could’ve lost her…

“Where’s Steve? The doctor said he was with you?”

She’s asking about Murphy when I’m right here? “Oh, he uh, went home, to make sure Connie knows he’s okay. He did want to see you though.”

“Yeah, I believe it. You should’ve seen the look on his face when that bullet got me. I’ve never seen him so scared shitless.” You chuckled. Again, always finding humor in a situation even when you literally got shot. It almost infuriated him, but the mental image of Steve freaking out did make him smirk a little.

“How are you feeling?”

You shrugged. “Tired. No, I'm exhausted. Who knew getting shot would make you wanna sleep for a week?”

“Are you hurting at all?”

“Just a little sore. They’ve got me on a shitload of painkillers right now, so I’m unlikely to feel anything at the moment. Embarrassment, however, I do feel.”

Javier furrowed his brows. “Why would you ever feel embarrassed? You got fuckin’ shot.”

“Exactly. I told you I could take care of myself and yet, here I am.” You huffed. “I never thought this would happen to me. I guess…I just got too comfortable.”

Before he could stop himself, Javier reached out to place his hand over yours, almost gasping when he felt how cold your skin was. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed, okay? You’re alive, that’s all that matters. Some of us don’t get so lucky. I’m relieved.”

He didn’t miss the subtle flustered expression on your face. “Oh…so, you’re not gonna say I told you so?” You smiled weakly.

Javier grinned. “Well, I can’t exactly say that when you’re laying in a hospital bed.”

“Eh, you could. You’d just be a massive asshole. But then again, you already are.” He knew it was just a joke, but it was true. He was an asshole, especially to you. Maybe it was the medication you were on, but he had no idea why you were being so friendly to him. If he were rejected by someone he likes, then that person proceeded to talk down to him when they were annoyed, he’d have little kind words to say. In fact, he was surprised you weren’t currently punching him in the face. You frowned, and Javier wanted to curse himself for giving his feelings away. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s-”

“Visiting hours are over.” A nurse interrupted, rather rudely.

You both frowned. Javier nodded to the nurse as he reluctantly let go of your hand, giving you a double take at the door, imprinting the image of you weakly waving goodbye with a small smile on your face to memory so he had something to hold onto before the next visit.

The week went by way too slow. Not even a week. You were recovering really well, so the doctors cleared you to go home sooner than expected. Javier found himself being anxious all the time, even at home after work was over. He drank a bit more than usual, until Steve came over one night and saw the state of his apartment and quickly intervened. He’d never admit this, but Javier was thankful for his partner. He was a good man, he supposed that’s why he made such a good DEA agent.

Javier had implicitly volunteered to be the one to look out for you when you were allowed back home, since you two lived in the same apartment building. Couldn’t really have been anyone else, and he wanted to. He wasn’t there for you when you got shot, but he sure as hell could be there when you recovered. Though, after a long conversation, you both decided it would be best that you stayed in his apartment until you could walk around on your own. The doctor had put you on a strict bedrest regime, to make sure you didn’t tear any stitching and reopen the wound. You lived alone, so staying with Javier just seemed like the most logical choice. Though, it put him in a near stupor.

Javier never cleaned so much in his life. He wanted everything to be perfect, nothing out of place and he’d be damned if there was even one speck of dust on any surface. It only increased his anxiety to the point he almost considered punching a hole into his wall. It’d be okay, he told himself, you were just staying until you could walk. That wouldn’t take that long. Yeah, he could do this. He could be professional while being in close proximity with you for more than the usual work hours. You’re fucked, man.

Steve helped drop you off at your apartments after picking you up from the hospital. Javier quickly put out the cigarette he was smoking as he heard the knock on the door, opening it to see you in a wheelchair with Steve behind you. “Someone order a damaged DEA agent?” He joked, only to get a slap on the arm from you. “Bad joke, sorry.” He coughed nervously, Javier stepping away so he could push the wheelchair inside. “Anyway, take real good care of her now.” He winked, earning a glare from Javier. “Alright, I’ll be going now.”

“Idiot…” Javier mumbled, earning a quiet giggle from you. Thankfully, Javier had a spare bedroom that he never used. He mostly used it as a storage room but cleaned it up a little and bought an extra mattress to use for the time being, while he insisted you stay in his own bedroom. “Sorry, it’s not much.” He spoke as he helped you to his bed.

“Don’t worry, it’s great.” You huffed as you laid yourself down, a small wince on your face. The doctor had been weaning you off the pain meds, so you weren’t the most comfortable. “Thanks again for letting me stay here until I get my bearings. I really appreciate it.”

Javier shook his head. “No problem. Just, uh, let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you…Javi.” You spoke softly as he turned to exit the room.

He almost ran into the door as soon as you said that, his heart fluttering inside his ribcage. He closed his eyes briefly to just savor the sound of your voice when you finally said his first name, finally after so long. He knew it was just out of appreciation, but he could take the little victories. He stiffly nodded before closing the door on his way out, letting out a sharp exhale when he got to his living room. How was he going to survive you staying with him for a couple weeks when he gets flustered within just a couple minutes around you in general? He hated to admit, but Steve was right. 

Javi was fuckin’ smitten.

With this newfound acceptance, Javier found himself just standing at the island in his kitchen doing nothing but blankly staring into space. You were here. You were safe. You were just in the other room. And yet, Javier was itching to go back and make sure you were doing alright, even though, logically, he knew you were probably just sleeping. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes and figured it was difficult trying to find any sort of peace inside a hospital. He knew he wouldn’t, but then again, he always had trouble sleeping. Even more so after you got shot.

For the first time in a while, the nightmares he was plagued with actually got to him. It wasn’t like all the other times he was shot or stabbed, betraying his own department, or Pablo always managing to escape when he was just within reach (although, that was more reality bleeding into his dreams). He almost always saw the dead bodies of the people he’s killed, especially the innocent ones. But then he started to see you.

It was always the same. You were calling out for Javier, begging for help. He ran to you, but it was like he was trying to run through mud or quicksand. He tried so hard to get to you before you were shot, but he was always too late. As soon as he reached you, you were already dying in his arms. Over and over again. To think those dreams would’ve stopped once you were home from the hospital, but nope. He went to sleep that night waking up in a similar cold sweat and racing heart. He almost couldn’t bear to look at you, guilt eating away at him even though it wasn’t his fault. He absolutely hated the fact he still had to go into work. This mission was put on hold for no one, not even you.

He was always anxious at work, to the point everyone noticed. He still did his job, but his eyes were vacant and it seemed anything he did was just instinct. He just kept thinking what if you needed him and he wasn’t there to help you? It didn’t bother Javier that everything figured out his affection for you, it was bound to happen sooner or later. He just hoped it didn’t get back to you before he could tell you himself.

But after he came home, he went back to his old behaviors. It’s true what people say: habits die hard. He did attempt to act more warm and accommodating, for both your sakes. But he made sure to never cross that line of professionalism. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or be forced into a situation when you were practically still dependent on him to move around. He didn’t want to cross any unspoken boundary. No, he’d keep his feelings to himself a bit longer. After you can walk on your own, or maybe even after you come back to work…or maybe when the mission is over and Pablo is dead or behind bars.

But after another gruesome nightmare, Javier got into the habit of peeking into your (his) bedroom. Just to make sure you were still there. Even when his nightmares mellowed out, he still did it. He even started to sit by your bed and just watch you sleep peacefully. God, he felt like such a creep. And what was it he said about boundaries?

Javier thought he’d just stay quiet, pretend like he never memorized every part of your face as you slept. Like how he noticed your nose twitched like a bunny sometimes, or how your lips pulled into a tiny and almost unnoticeable smile. But of course, he couldn’t do that forever. You started to be able to move around on your own, albeit extremely carefully. But still, that just meant you could go back to your own apartment soon…

Javier had a really bad dream that night after seeing you take baby steps into the living room, a giant smile on your face as you finally were able to do things yourself. And of course, it was the same exact dream. He went to your bedroom right after, anxious to see your peacefully sleeping form that would instantly calm him, only to find you whimpering and slightly stirring in your sleep. Ah, so he wasn’t the only one plagued by nightmares.

He thought about leaving you alone, letting you wake up on your own, but when he heard you whispering mumbled “nos” and “stops” with tears trailing down your cheeks, he couldn’t just let you suffer.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Javier slowly sat down next to you, brushing a hand over your cheek delicately, the action only slightly stirring you. “Hey, sweetheart.” Fuck, the name just came out naturally. He’s so glad that it didn’t wake you. He called your name, gently shaking your shoulder until you shot up with wide eyes, winding back your fist to punch him before he caught it. “Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s me.”

You slowly relaxed, bringing your hands down with an exhale. “Javi…” You whispered his name like a prayer, like you almost couldn’t believe he was actually there with you.

“Must’ve been some nightmare.” Javier guessed, and you winced.

“Was…was I loud?”

“You were crying in your sleep…” He didn’t really answer your question, it was true, but Javier never would’ve heard you if he wasn’t creeping around your room in the first place.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. I usually don’t get nightmares like this.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Javier could’ve probably guessed, and from the expression on your face when you looked at him, he was right.

“I haven’t had nightmares about it before. Not even the nights right after. I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I guess…my theory, now that I can walk around without tearing myself apart, I guess that means I can go back to my apartment. And I'm glad I’m better. It’s just, you’ve been so kind and made me feel safe here, and the thought of having to live all alone again, even if I know you’re just downstairs…” You shook your head, curling in on yourself in embarrassment.

“Then…you can stay here a bit longer.” That felt like a confession, to Javier anyway. And he almost regretted saying it until…

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t do that to you. I know you’ve been counting down the days until I could handle walking myself again.”

Javi furrowed his brows, his heart dropping to his stomach. “What? I haven’t-”

“I’ve made things awkward, Javi. I know that. I know I haven’t been handling that whole rejection thing very well, but I’m trying, okay? I really am trying.” You sighed. “I never should’ve told you then, but I figured, you can get over a person a lot quicker if you just confessed early on. I’m sorry but, it hasn’t been working much. That’s not your fault, of course, it’s my problem. Living with you these past couple weeks have not made it any easier though.” You chuckled bitterly, wiping away a few shed tears as soon as they fell over your cheeks, making Javier’s heart clench painfully. “God, I’m such an idiot.” You whispered to yourself.

Javier exhaled shakily, turning away from you, looking down at the floor. “You remember back at the hospital, you called me an asshole?”

“It was a joke, and I apologized, Peña.”

Javier winced at the sound of his last name. No. No, no, no, he was not going to go through this. Not again. Just swallow your pride for once, man. “I didn’t get to finish what I was gonna say back then, 'cause that bitch nurse told me I had to leave.” He growled.

You chuckled weakly. “And what were you going to say?”

Now or never, right?

“I was gonna say you’re right. I am. An asshole. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

You made a confused noise. “What’re you talking about?”

Goddamn it. “I’ve been an asshole to you since that night…”

You sighed. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Peña. I get it.”

“Please, just let me talk.” He begged, and Javier never begged. The pleading look in his eyes finally got you to shut your mouth. His heart was racing. He thought about taking a deep breath but he was just afraid it would turn into hyperventilating, so not helpful. “Sorry, I’m no good at this. Talking. Damn it…” He whispered. “Fuck it, I like you, alright?” He spat, sounding more angry than he meant.

“W-What?” You stuttered, suddenly sounding much more awake and sitting up against your pillows.

“You heard me.”

“I did, I just…” You shook your head. “I don’t understand. Are you saying this to…mess with me or something?”

“No. No, I’m not. I mean, I’m-” Javier groaned in frustration. He wasn’t used to this, he never really did this, talk about his emotions. He didn’t know it would be this hard. Man, maybe he did need a therapist. He flinched when you placed your hand on his shoulder, but you didn’t pull away.

“Hey, it’s okay, Javi.” You spoke softly when you noticed how on edge he was. “Calm down. Just take a deep breath.” He did as he was told, for once. Taking deep breaths while focusing on the heat radiating from you, using it to ground himself before he even tried talking again.

“When Steve told me you were shot…” He stuttered shakily, his voice betraying him. “I feared the worst. I thought…I thought there was a chance I’d never see you again.”

You frowned, your bottom lip trembling. “Oh, Javi, come here.” You pulled him to you, allowing his head to rest on your shoulder, gently running your hand through his hair while your other hand guided his hand to rest over the pulse point on your neck. “I’m safe. I’m alive. See? I’m not gonna be so reckless again, I promise.”

Javier closed his eyes, snuggling further onto your neck, breathing in your calming scent, spurring him to keep talking. “I thought that I didn’t want to be with anyone. I convinced myself that I don’t need anyone but me…then I got to know you and I started to realize, I’d rather give up this case than see you get hurt. That night you told me how you felt, I thought I was sparing you. But I was just afraid, a coward. The truth is…I fuckin’ need you.” From where his hand was laying on your neck, Javi could feel your pulse quicken. He called out your name in concern, more of hesitance. He finally lifted his head to look at you, immediately noticing the tears in your eyes but a bashful smile on your face.

Letting go of his restraint and not worrying about the consequences for once, Javier surged forward, capturing your lips with his. The little gasp that came from you was probably one of the cutest sounds he’s ever heard, besides your laugh. Your lips were so soft, moving against his languidly. He smiled into the kiss as he felt you rake your hands through his hair, bringing his body to yours as close as humanly possible. Javier wasn’t the best with words, but this he knew how to do. He tried to pour every single emotion he had for you into this kiss: adoration, care, frenzied lust, and maybe even love. The only reason he finally pulled away is because he heard you wince.

Oh, he’d pressed against you too hard and put some pressure on your stitching. Damn it, of course, your first kiss with her and you have to fuck it up somehow.

“I’m so sorry.” He spoke, panicked, wildly looking over your expression to make sure you weren’t in any more pain.

You shook your head with a grin, a mildly dazed gleam in your eyes. “You’re okay. You’re more than okay.”

“I got…a little carried away.” He blushed, having to forcefully put a little bit of distance between you. “God, I’ve thought about doing that for so long.” He admitted.

You smirked, trying to cover up your nervousness. “Did it live up to your expectations?”

More than you could ever know. 

“I probably should’ve asked this before I kissed you, but…do you wanna go out with me sometime?” He didn’t know why he sounded so nervous, like you’d ever say no, but he didn’t know that. His body untensed as you gave him the most bright smile he’d ever seen from you.

“Of course, Javi.” Javi, Javi, Javi. The beautiful sound repeated in his mind.

“Say my name again, please.” You leaned forward to kiss him again, repeating it after you broke apart. He never thought his name could sound more alluring than when you said it. God, he wanted to absolutely ravish you, but he’d never risk hurting you. He was a patient man, he could wait, however long you needed. He was already planning it in his mind. He wasn’t the most romantic, but rose petals did come into mind, making him chuckle to himself. “I guess I’ll…let you get back to sleep now.”

Javier moved to stand from your bed, but you stopped him by grabbing onto his wrist. “Would it be too much if I asked you to stay?” Your best puppy dog eyes were on full display, making his heart swell. He could never say no to that face.

“Mi tesoro…” Javi whispered as you both settled in for the rest of the night, him laying on his back while you leaned your head against his chest, a protective arm wrapped around you. Yeah, he could get used to this, especially with you. The both of you fell fast asleep pretty quickly. And what d’ya know? He didn’t have another nightmare after that.

You decided to stay at his apartment for a little while longer. Well, it was more of an insistence from Javier. He was almost always on you like a leech, but he never heard you complain. From the constant stream of giggles and smiles you threw his way, Javi was pretty sure you enjoyed his company. Now that the tension finally broke, it was back to how it used to be between you, only more intensified. That damned gunshot wound was the only wall between you, but that wall wound was broken soon enough. Of course, when that happened, you also had to get back to work, which you were missing greatly. You wanted to catch Escobar just as much as everyone else, so you were ecstatic to get back on the case.

Javier tried his best not to helicopter you around, he knew if someone was doing that to him he’d want to claw their eyes out. He gave you your space, but that anxiety came back in full force whenever they’d try to make an arrest. From then on, you were always right by Javier’s side whenever the guns had to come out. Maybe he was overprotective, but he didn’t care; he needed you safe.

It wasn’t really a shock to anyone that you and Javier got together. Some even made bets, which infuriated him. Steve was the worst about it, teasing Javi whenever he got the chance. At least no one teased you, not that anyone would be stupid enough to try.

As the team had gotten word about where one of Pablo’s men were hiding out, the station started to shift into that similar tension, much too similar to that day you were shot. Javier felt like he was going to have a panic attack. But at this point, you had been around each other so constantly that you developed a sort of sixth sense to whatever he was feeling. You didn’t hesitate to grab his hand, bringing it up so his palm could cup your cheek. “Hey, we’re gonna be fine.” Javier forced himself to nod. “You’ve got my back?”

He cracked a smile. “Of course I do, cariño.” 

Javier leaned down to kiss you passionately, taking you by surprise. PDA in the workplace wasn’t really strictly forbidden, but it was common courtesy not to lock lips with your partner. But Javi didn’t care, he needed you when he needed you. 

No one was going to take that away from him.  No one was going to take you away from him. Never again.

like i said...chokehold. he has too much power. someone save me.

[imnotsimpingyouare]

HELP YOURSELF

NSFW Akaza X Reader - Minors DNI

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So basically??? Idek fem!reader is some sort of good guy with a sword tryna fight a bad guy with no sword but with dangerous hands ig but she likes them hands a little too much

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It was a gust of air that set you off. It took only a moment to realize what it was, flying through the forest with eyes directed ahead.

An Upper Rank demon.

You were no hashira. You were somewhere close, but still so far away, and even farther knowing this could very well be your last battle. You didn't even bat an eye at the disintegrating demon behind you now, you had an important matter to attend to.

It was running.

From you.

It sent you into some predatory trance, relying on your instinct to guide you in the right direction. You would run all night if you had to. It wouldn't get away.

What motive would it have to run? What drove it towards you in the first place? All questions you'd have an answer to soon, seeing as you saw a break in the dense forest ahead.

You halted for the first time in a while. You knew better than to run into the clearing where it could attack openly from any direction.

Where did it go?

You felt all of the hairs on your neck stand up before something tried to grab at your sword. You swung, but never made contact.

"Come out, coward!" You shouted into the woods, knowing that wherever it was, it could hear you. You stepped into the clearing. Since it was trying to disarm you, it'd be better to give it less places to hide.

A voice called to you from what seemed to be all around.

"Put your katana down, demon slayer. You have no reason to worry."

In a flash he was there, a relatively tall demon with edo tattoos and bright pink hair.

His eyes were unique, yellow with the kanji "upper three" framed by what seemed to be cracked sclera.

His chest was toned and his pants were baggy. You spent only a moment admiring the state he was in, before returning his intense gaze.

"Why the hell would I do that?"

His hands remained rested at his sides and his face was completely serious.

"I do not harm women."

In his eyes, you could see what looked like something you knew all too well.

Pity.

You hated pity. You wanted it from no one. To see others stare at you, and your smaller frame, battling huge demons. You knew what they were thinking. You always knew.

"And why is that." You nearly growled, knowing the answer.

His eyes narrowed at your... offense?

"They are..." He began, but was interrupted by the moonlight reflecting off your blade, which was now pointed at him.

"Do not..." you started to say, clenching your free hand against the fabric of the uniform pants, "insult me with your pity."

His eyes widened, and you were before him in an instant, swinging your blade at his neck.

You caught him with the tip of your katana ever so slightly, causing him to jump yards away from you. You spared no time for him. Your attacks came in a series of swift blows, and he never sparred back, only blocking against you. It was with every blow the anger in your chest seemed to grow larger, until you finally stood before him again, his arms regenerating from the small cuts he received from the attack.

"Little demon slayer, I have no wish to fight you." He said, in a quieter voice.

"Shut the hell up. " You spat, digging your heels into the firm ground below you. "There is no bigger insult than to go easy on me. I wouldn't be standing here today if I couldn't handle myself."

His eyes were apologetic almost, pink eyebrows furrowing together.

"Demon slayer, I-"

"Y/N."

You huffed. If you were going to have a conversation, you'd tire quickly of the name "demon slayer".

"Y/N." He repeated in thought, one hand coming up to run through his pink hair.

"I am Akaza." He said.

You didn't know what he wanted with you. In truth, he didn't want anything, only to get away from this interaction, but your words intrigued him beyond reason.

"If that is your wish, Y/N, I am sure you will die from this battle."

A smile formed itself on your lips. It had been a while since someone considered being fair towards you, and a demon no less.

"Better to die a warrior than a coward."

There was a pause between the two of you before you both dissappeared in a blur, dust kicking up around you.

For the first time, it felt like you weren't having to prove yourself against this demon, and he was actually considering your strength. Newfound confidence flowed through your veins and into the tip of your katana, following through on every attack and every block.

Akaza was taking real swings at you, and you were taking every opportunity to strike at his neck. But the tides changed when he kicked your sword from your hand.

Your katana flew several yards away, and you were forced to resort to hand-to-hand, the only area of combat you possessed real weakness. It was as if Akaza could see it, could see through you, and into where your weaknesses lie.

The first blow you truly received from him was a kick in the stomach, sending you flying in the opposite direction of your katana. In an instant he was on top of you, pinning your limbs down with his own. He held your hands above your head and watched as you choked out labored breaths, trying to catch up with yourself.

"You're so strong, Y/N."

You looked up at him, and he was staring down at you, not a hint of dishonesty in his yellow eyes. Only wonder and excitement.

"Please, become a demon? We could train together. No one would ever view you as weak. Never again. Could you imagine that?"

Your legs moved, looking for the room to curl up to your chest, but he placed his knee in between your thighs, keeping you from kicking him off.

"I... don't want to become a demon." You say.

But Akaza wasn't going to take no for an answer. He leaned in even closer.

"Y/N. If you don't become a demon, there will always be people who don't respect you. A warrior like you will die of old age, shriveling away with your weak, mortal human body. I cannot bear to see you meet such a fate." He said, caressing your wrists with his thumb.

Your heart began to beat a little faster at that. Did he even care about that? Why would a demon care who respects you?

You looked up into his eyes. "Death is always chasing you. You can never get away."

But he only smiled at that. His lips grazed yours, sharing air with you as he spoke in a whisper.

"Then let's run from death together, Y/N."

In that moment you were dying for a connection, and his lips met yours as if he had read your mind. It was a sweet and gentle kiss, none like the ones you've had in your life, where they had been taken from you. This kiss was shared between two equally wanting individuals, whose fate intertwined at this moment for this purpose.

"Don't you want to see.." he pulls away to gaze at you, "how long we can make it?"

He released your hands and placed them on either side of your head, allowing you to take them down and ruffle his hair. How could a demon be so loving towards you?

His lips curled into a smile before meeting yours again, this kiss needier than the last. It felt so inexplicably good to be connected to him, and the warmth pooling in your abdomen only gathered with the passing time.

You let out a soft moan when he slid his tounge into your mouth, body pressing yours down onto the ground. He pulled away for a moment to admire the state you were in for him now, saliva dripping down your chin, face flushed beet red.

"Love, are you alright? That expression you're making... would you like to continue?"

His eyes bore into yours, feeling the way his breath hitched when you nodded your head.

"Use your words love."

"Yes.. I want to keep going."

It was in that moment you confined yourself to your fate, as he slowly unbuttoned your uniform to reveal your chest. "So lovely.." He whispered, kissing and sucking on your boobs, making you squirm under him. Moans began to fall as he grinded his hips into yours, groaning in your ear at the sensation. "Akaza.." you mumbled out, causing him to look at you with half-lidded eyes, lost in the trance of your hips grinding against his.

"Fuck, keep saying my name that way, I never want you to forget my name leaving your lips." He said in a soft voice, teasing one of your nipples as he undid the buckle of your belt. Your hands tugged at his hair the more you longed for him, hips lifting up so he could take off your pants and underwear.

"Look at you, so wet for me." He moaned at the feeling of your soaked panties against his fingers, before thumbing at your clit.

Your back arched at the sudden contact, reaching for him, only to be pinned back to the ground with his free hand. "Want to feel you inside," you hummed, staring into his eyes as his fingers danced around your hole. "Want you, Akaza."

Two of his fingers pushed their way in, making you gasp at the feeling as he kissed you. "Don't worry, love, m'gonna make you feel good." He breathed out in between kisses.

His fingers found a slow, but satisfying pace inside of you, curling to press against that spot inside of you that make your toes curl. He watched your face intently, focused on your poor bottom lip, which had been bitten so harshly it looked as if it may bleed. "My poor thing." He whispered against your lips, trying to kiss all of your thoughts away.

The pace of his fingers soon had you on the edge, but he kept you there, whispering sweet nothings into the shell of your ears. "Please wait for me, love. Will you?" He coos, with full knowledge of the effect he has on you, hearing your moans grow into desperate whimpers.

"A-akaza, wanna cum so bad.." you whimper, resting your head against the ground in complete submission. He laughs ever so softly, kissing your neck before taking his fingers out to lick them clean of your juices. "Be patient.." is all he has to say, taking off his own pants to reveal his dick to you.

You sit up to push him back against the tree nearby, straddling his hips. "I wanna do it." You say to him, and he presents no arguments as you ease yourself down onto his cock.

He groans in your ear, hands holding your hips close to him. "So fucking tight around me, Y/N." He breathes, before you raise your hips and lower them again.

You set the pace, bouncing your hips on his dick, and he holds your chin in his hand. "Don't dare look away, love. I want to see you." He purrs.

His tip just barely kisses your cervix, and he's trying as hard as he can not to thrust up into you and ruin you. He keeps his hand on your chin, watching as a slew of moans and whines fall from your lips. You were putty in his hands. His free hand roamed your body freely, massaging all of your worries away.

The sound of your skin colliding is nearly enough to banish all other noise, the only other thing you can hear being Akaza's sultry voice.

Your legs begin to shake and tears prick at your eyes, desperately chasing the release he denied you earlier.

"Oh sweet thing, are you tired? Do you want my help?" He coos at you, finding it adorable how you can't keep up with your desires. You nod your head, pleads leaving your lips in the form of whispers.

"Words." He says. His fingers pull your chin closer to his and he looks you in the eye.

"Akaza, please... want your help, m'gonna cum, wanna cum so bad...ngh!" you moan, giving up all pride you had before he thrusts up into you, causing your legs to nearly give out. He continues to slam your hips down in time with his thrusts, sucking on your neck while you moan in ecstasy. He groans, holding your chin still as he slams into you at an inhuman pace. "Thought you were strong hm? Do you like begging for my help?" He said in almost a growl.

You found yourself frantically nodding. "Please Akaza, please..!" You cried out, eyes rolling back into your head as you neared your high. He groaned, squeezing your hip harder. "I'll fuck you like this every day for the rest of your life love, would you like that? Being my cocksleeve every night?" He felt so desperate, hips erratically thrusting into you, chasing that release he's been needing. You gripped his shoulders and nodding, trying so hard to keep your focus on him. "I love you," you cried in that sweet voice of yours, "want your cum, want it so bad."

He suddenly let out a load moan, releasing into you as you clenched him even tighter than before. You cried out his name, squeezing his shoulders. He continued moving his hips slower now, fucking you through your orgasm. Eventually he stopped, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

"My sweet Y/N. All mine, forever."

[clouds-by-me]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓼𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓼

Character ;; Scaramouche Warnings ;; Angst, character death, blood Word count ;; 1.3k An | i had fun making this tbh, and i loved the way it turned out<3 Part 2

As the wind blew past you, everything felt nice. The cold air bit at your skin, but it still felt nice. Your thick fur coat, given to you not long after you had started living on this forever cold land, kept you warm. You watched the evening horizon, no thoughts in your mind as the sun set behind the mountains off in the far distance.

Though it looked as if you could touch it if you just reached For it, you knew in you mind that it was far away. That however, didn’t stop you. Pulling your hand out of the safety of the warmth within its pocket, you reached for it. Only for your hand to reach nothing.

Your hand fell back to your side, and your head tilted slightly, as if confused. As if you didn’t know why your hand touched nothing instead of touching the horizon. You missed the warmth that the sun used to bring.

You missed your sun.

The light of your life, rather he admit it or not. He did questionable things, and he wasn’t nice by any means, but he loved you. He protected you, and was interested in the things that you believed, rather he agreed with them or not. He’d never let you be disrespected, let alone hurt by any means.

Scaramouche loved you.

The day you found out that he wouldn’t be returning, was the day you cried so much that your tears started to freeze as they rolled down your cheeks.

You cried for hours, all by yourself. You’d been told that he died. That the experiment that he had been apart of failed, and he was destroyed during a battle against the new dendro Archon, and a blond traveler.

You had been told that they killed him.

For a while you wanted to be upset, no you wanted to be outraged. You wanted to loath everything about those people, the people who hurt the man you loved. You wished to hurt them, to see them hurt at your feet, begging for mercy that you wouldn’t give.

Yet, as soon as it came, that feeling was gone.

You knew that the experiment was dangerous. You knew that he could’ve gotten hurt. He knew as well. But you didn’t know that puppets could die. If you would’ve had known, you would’ve tried to stop him. You would’ve made him stayed, or so you tell yourself. Now that he was gone, it seemed that everything reminded you of him. Somehow, where ever you looked, you saw him.

And it hurt.

It didn’t make sense to you. How did something like the snow remind you of Scaramouche? Maybe it was the way his skin was always so cold, or the way he’d melt for your warmth. You could hear his voice in your mind.

“Ugh, you need to move faster, the snow isn’t hard to move in. Mortals…why must you be so weak..”

He’d complain about everything, from the cold to the heat. He complained about light and darkness, the air and the uneven ground. The only thing he never complained about however was you.

He would never admit it, but he loved you. The puppet would do anything for you. From the small things, when you asked him to get you some water. To literally challenging the way of life and trying to become an archon, to be strong and protect you. He wanted the best for you. Anything you wanted, it’d be in your hands before you could even say think about it.

He learned and studied you to the point where he could understand what you were thinking just by being around you.

You blinked again, the sun was almost fully down by now. Softly you sighed, you cloud see the cloud of air that contrasted against the unforgiving cold air.

Though you dreaded this walk, you made your way back to the icy cold place of Snezhnaya. As your feet hit the snow with a loud crunch, you couldn’t help but think about him still. It seemed like he couldn’t leave you alone. Even when gone, he still found a way to be around. The last words that he said to you before he left for Sumeru were word that would haunt you to your final days;

“I’ll see you when i get back. Don’t do anything stupid while im away, and stay away from Sumeru. No matter what….Please. I love you.”

He didn’t even let you say it black before he quickly kissed you then left. Bitterly you chuckled at his words. It seems like he was the one to do something stupid, now look where it got him. You remember hearing the love behind the hiss in on his tongue.

The irony, you thought. The walk to your current place of residence was short, to say the least. And anything besides peaceful. As soon as you entered the castle, subordinates of your lover crowed you. Questions of various kinds were shot at you to the point of gaining a headache.

The lack of respect, and distance between you and them, for some reason angered you. The feeling of heat covered your body more instantly as more questions were asked. Irritated, you began actually moving people out of your way as you continued to walk, now having no care about who was going to get hurt.

All of the questions blended together, until your ear twitched at the sound of one particular question;

“Are you going to take lord Scaramouche’s place as the new 6th harbinger?”

You froze in your tracks, that question upset you. Were they really that ready to replace him? Everyone agreed, and started on with how ‘you’re so much nicer than lord Scaramouche’. Had they not realized how hard this was for you? Had they no respect? For his loss at the very least.

“You will not speak of him of the sort.” you turned around, looking down upon everyone, even those who were taller than you. “And just who do you think you are? You bow before you speak to me, I should have you all behead for such an act of disrespect!” Immediately everyone stoped their movements.

Fear struck a majority of the group, everyone else, a sense of confusion. Since when were you, of all people, as harsh as Scaramouche? It seemed almost out of your character. Never did you make them blow to you before, or even threaten them. Everyone fell to their knees, bowing before you, some even shook.

Everyone besides one, a newer recruit to the fatui. She stood with a high level of confidence, and ego. As if she had the right to face you.

Thoughts of the way that Scaramouche would discipline these very subordinates played in your mind. You remember at that time, thinking those punishments were too harsh. You’d believe that they deserved a second chance, at that time as least.

“Why are you still standing.” You didn’t ask a question, it was a warning, now, you were at the point that you were ready to hurt everyone around you. If Scaramouche was still be around, you wouldn’t be doing this. That fact hurt you much more than it should’ve, but it’s true.

Scaramouche was the one to apply harsh treatment upon the ones beneath him, while you would apologize, and try to get him to stop.

“You keep being nice to them, and one day they’ll try to take advantage of you. That’s why you are so weak now, you are too kind, and forgiving.”

Is this what he meant? You wonder. You wasted no time in killing the woman. Your eyes so dull, that even the lights didn’t reflect off of them. A collective gasp filed the room. You watched the body fall, and the blood spill. No mercy was left in you heart, nor did you care.

“Someone clean up this blood now! Let this be a warning, i show no more mercy.” You started to walk away, but stopped before they were out of earshot. “Never talk bad about Scaramouche around me ever again, i will kill you. On sight.”

With that you walked away, only the sound of your shoes hitting the ground filled the silence of the cold halls, and your now hallow heart.

[ihatesocialmedia45]

Chapter 11: Ultraviolence

gm!! Homelander and Reader FINALLY say I love you!! Ignore the gif, this is a love story!

The woman clung to Homelander as he breezed above the crowd at Voughtland, grinning alongside him as the cameras flashed and the masses screamed his name. She didn't need them, but watching the world give him the praise he deserved filled her heart to bursting. Yes, she thought, pressing a kiss to Homelander's cheek. This is exactly how it should be. The two of them, soaring above them all, collecting their worship and kissing the traces of it from his mouth. The people below could spend the rest of their lies trying to match her devotion to him, to see what she'd seen in his eyes, but they'd never do it. Still... it warmed her from within to watch them try.

As he lowered them smoothly to the ground, she kissed him one more time, an indulgent grin lighting up her face as Homelander dipped her dramatically for the crowd, giggling when his lips graced her throat. He could feel the spike in her pulse, Homelander marveled, nibbling at it lightly. She was excited - not even for her own brush of fame, but for him, finally receiving his dues. She was happy, for him.

They rose to a standing position, looking around the amusement park, a mile-long bundle of tickets in her hand. Homelander had scoffed ('I can get us into any part of Voughtland,'  he'd said, exasperated), but the woman had insisted, fixing him with a puppy dog gaze that had broken down his defenses ('yes, but it's about you having the most tickets!' she'd cajoled) And so he'd bought $500 worth of them, fighting the boyish grin on his face as the Voughtland attendant had to replace the ink in the machine to print them all.

She grabbed his hand, making a beeline for the photo booth and slipping inside, feeding the tickets into the machine and selecting the romantic border, Homelander's hands hot on her waist.

Snap! Homelander and the woman, beaming into the camera.

Snap! The woman's mouth opened in mock surprise, pointing at him as if to say, Can you believe it?

Snap! The couple, wrapped in an embrace.

Snap! Homelander, his face the picture of delight and surprise, as the woman turned to him, drawing her tongue up his cheek, the lascivious glint in her eyes unmistakable. 

Homelander turned to her, a growl building in his throat, pressing her against the wall of the photo booth, his hungry gaze raking over her fully. "Don't start," he whispered dangerously, licking his lips when her pulse raced in response.

"I can't help it," she murmured, taking him into her arms, kissing him deeply. "You'll have to take me in hand.. make sure I behave myself..."

Homelander kissed her hard, fingers tangled in her hair - but the moment would not last. At the sound of a child's petulant whine, they parted, rolling their eyes, and exited the booth, collecting their photos, Homelander's copy burning brightly in his pocket.

The woman unfolded the map of the amusement park, pursing her lips. "Where to, Captain?" she asked him playfully. Homelander grinned.

"Hmm... I don't know, my intrepid explorer. What say you to... the Whack-A-Moles?" A flash of something dark crossed over her eyes when she grinned, and Homelander felt his own pulse jump. She really was... just like him. They walked over to the Whack-A-Mole station, pushing past people in line, each grabbing a mallet and smiling warmly at each other, before attacking the moles with a voracity that made the attendant eye them warily. The woman set forth valiantly, smashing down on the plastic moles like her life depended on it, eyes narrowed, a cruel little quirk on her lips. Homelander paused in his appraisal of her; the way her hair flew around her, the chaotic glimmer in her eyes, the thud of her heartbeat... it was like he was watching a mirror of himself, incensed from the heat of battle. She panted out her breaths as she raised the mallet high above her with both hands, bringing it down with a force that rattled the machine.

Not to be outdone, he smashed the moles on his side in turn, teeth bared in a wolfish grin as he heard the squeal of the metal beneath. The woman looked over at him, breath catching. He looked like a god of war, like Mars' reincarnate. A vision of him, covered in blood, flashed before her eyes, and she swallowed down a moan. There would be plenty of time to divulge this fantasy to him later, she thought, returning to her mission.

Finally, the game was over, and the attendant handed them their tickets, which, added to their comically large reserve, slipped out of her hands as she reached for it. A child behind them watched, eyes wide - and the woman was struck with an idea, turning to give him her share of the tickets.

Homelander quirked a brow. "Why'd you give him our tickets? He didn't even win," he pouted. The woman graced his arm with her hand. "Because... I'm with the richest, kindest, most generous man alive, who takes such good care of me. I don't need to worry. And besides," she said, jerking her thumb in the boy's direction, "Look how grateful he is." Homelander looked, annoyance fading, as the child jumped up and down, waving heartily at Homelander, eyes shining. 

"Better to let them see you provide - it's good for them, in the long run."

Homelander felt something within him swell at her words, her acknowledgement, and licked his lips, and the thought came to him that she'd picked such a public place for Valentine's Day on purpose, to tease him until he lost control, and pulled her into a dark alley somewhere. He grinned darkly, hand snaking around her waist. There would be time for that later, he thought, pressing a kiss to her temple as they carried on.

They visited the hot dog eating contest, their lips curled in equal parts fascination and disgust at the contestants, cheering all the same when the man they'd betted on won, sat in on the theatrical rendition of the Seven's first battle as a team (' I hit that guy way harder when it happened,' Homelander whispered into her ear, grinning when she laughed), and won another bushel of tickets that Homelander made rain from the sky when they guessed the weight of Porkchop, the city's largest pig: 2,500 pounds. Homelander reveled in the sound of the crowd's cheers, thinking that maybe the woman had been right about letting the masses see him as benevolent; it was different from their fear, or their subservience. It was almost akin to... love. Adoration. He twirled in the air, the woman's arms wrapped around his neck, drinking in their cheers, kissing her deeply as the descended.

I'm in love with you, Homelander thought, the force of it shaking him - and he pulled her into his arms, lifting her off her feet and onto his back, her weight solid against his back, a shimmer of something softer in his eyes as he faced the amusement park.

When she'd suggested coming here for Valentine's Day, at first, Homelander had been derisive - almost angry. She'd claimed to know everything about him, tracked his every move for years... and yet, she'd wanted to go to a place that only filled him with the memory of his solitude, his exclusion from public life. He'd been to Voughtland so many times that he thought the idea of returning would make him sick; all those events he'd hosted, leaving backstage because he couldn't stand to see the couples embrace... all the times he'd watched the Seven huddle into that photo booth without him... he would have chosen to get as far away from this place as he could. But she'd changed that ugly memory into something precious, something worthwhile. Maybe that had been her plan - to bulldoze over the memory of those who'd hurt him, and plant the garden of their love in its place. To tear it all down, to make room for the effigy of their union.

She'd done this for him, as much as she'd done it for herself, Homelander realized. The world seemed to go silent as the thought travelled through him. He looked up into her face, the back of her head eclipsing the sun, closing his eyes contentedly when she bent to kiss his forehead.

The woman pointed then, eyes sparkling at the scene before them; the kiosk section, a mini marketplace within the amusement park. Homelander craned his neck, looking to see what had caught her eye, when he finally saw it, a slow grin lighting up his face. He lifted them off the ground, speeding towards the stands.

"I'll take this one, please!" the woman said, pointing to the biggest shirt on the rack, a replica of his suit, with matching shorts - and Homelander almost pulled her off of him and laid her on the concrete. His suit. She'd wanted to show the world she was his.

The man at the kiosk traded her the shirt for her tickets, and she bent down again, lips grazing Homelander's ear. "We should go somewhere more private. I don't want to wear anything else," she whispered to him, tone dark and honeyed. Homelander swallowed, flying them into the changing stations.

They clambered into the changing room, shooing guests out of the stalls and locking the door behind them - and instantly, they were on each other. Homelander stripped the clothes off her body, letting them flutter to the ground, when he felt a spike of anxiety grip him at she worked at the collar of his suit. At his reticence, she relented, and he let out a small, relieved sigh. It wasn't that he didn't want to; he did. It was just... he was Homelander. The thought of shedding his suit, especially in public, filled him with a deep sense of unease. In the dark of her apartment, it had been different - safe. But under the fluorescent lights of the Voughtland changing room, he stopped cold. A flit of worry crossed his mind - would she push him? Or worse - not see his disquiet and try to strip him anyway? Homelander buried the panic in his eyes, waiting.

But she didn't push; she kissed him, slowly, removing her hands from his collar and pulling him close instead, and he moaned out his relief, pressing a hand to the wall as she mouthed at his pulse, her lips kitten soft. She palmed at the tent in his suit, eyes ravenous now, bending low to kiss him there, too, before the whisper of her pants sliding off her body, like sand in the wind, sounded in his ears. She stepped out of them smoothly, tongue laving across him as he shuddered, licking up to his neck as she rose to her full height, before she looked him in the eye.

"I want you to burn it off of me," she whispered, tugging at her shirt. Homelander licked his lips, a question in his eyes. Use his lasers? On her? He almost refused, imagining her flayed corpse, smoking and gruesome, crumpled on the floor beneath him, the idea like a nightmare. But then she reached forward and kissed him, murmuring of his power, her desire to see it, to feel it... and he felt that hunger from before return, swirling viscous in his eyes. She trusted him.

So, fixing her with a heated glance, he started, the red glow of his eyes dancing across her face, between her eyes, down her cheek, her lips... settling onto her pulse, growling when she bit her lip.

Come on... she thought, rubbing her legs together. Please...

Homelander let out a gusty sigh, kissing her once, before pulling back, and painstakingly dragging his lasers down the front of her shirt, the hint of heat grazing her flesh as he went. He couldn't stop the gasp that left him as the article ghosted off her body, peeling from her skin and onto the floor, his lips parted as she stood bare before him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist, and he unzipped himself quickly then, sliding into her and chasing the moan that poured out of her with his lips, kissing her open-mouthed and reckless.

Cradling her in his arms, he rutted into her, her hands in his hair, gracing his cheek, her lips all over him - he nibbled her earlobe, pressing into her tightly. She moaned for him, the sound unrepentant, as he worked them to the edge and back. Usually, he wouldn't go so far as to take her in public - but she'd wanted this, wanted him. Pushed him, really, Homelander thought ruefully as he tweaked her nipple. She was right; he would have to take her in hand  - she was trouble. 

"Burn them," the woman whispered hotly, gesturing to her clothes on the floor. "I never want to see them again."

Homelander's jaw dropped, brow furrowed as she pulsed around him, voice threadbare and reedy. He held onto her tighter; in that moment, as he looked into her flushed, gleaming face, he saw the rising of the sun, eclipsing all else - and he pressed his lips to her jaw, floating away from the tangle of fabric, before incinerating the last vestiges of her clothing into dust, biting his lip till he tasted blood when she moaned into his ear at the sight. He kissed her, once, twice, three times, the room's tension fading with the delicate curl of smoke, dancing from the ashes of what once was.

They stilled then, breathing in each other's pants, before he deposited her lightly onto her feet, smiling dazedly as she donned the Homelander set, delivering a small steam of saliva onto the pile of ash before they unlocked the changing room door and left, laughing boisterously at the long line of patrons who'd clearly heard the commotion in their wait.

Homelander carried the woman bridal-style in his arms, sweeping her into a dizzy circle, her laughter weaving around him. "I can't believe we did that!" she squealed, grinning wildly. Homelander chuckled. "Me, neither - you're a terrible influence," he teased. She batted her eyelashes. "Who, me?" He dipped his head to kiss her, lips soft. "Yes, you..." he murmured, sighing when she looped her arms around him. "Just terrible... downright rotten, really. Someone should stop you."

The woman feigned remorse, pouting her lip as she looked up at him. "There must be some way to resolve this..." she said teasingly. Homelander pecked her on the lips again. "Maybe there is," he breathed, lowering his feet to the ground and looking up at their destination: the Tunnel of Love. "But... we'd have to negotiate at a location of my choosing... that's standard business practice, after all."

The couple made their way to the Tunnel's seats, and strapped in, the woman's eyes glowing with warmth as the soft, rosy lights engulfed them. They sailed slowly along, the faint churn of the water beneath them, and the woman faced Homelander, taking his hand in hers.

"You know... I've never told anyone this, but... I've never celebrated Valentine's Day before." Homelander raised a brow. "Really?" 

He remembered, in the beginning, in those searching days, imagining a life for her in the wake of her absence online. She had no following, no platform but a lonely blog, her voice faint as vestiges of perfume on the breeze - and so he'd crafted, envisioning the full image of her. She was... private. Quiet. Loyal. Perceptive. Perhaps she owned a cat - something to love. Enjoyed sipping her coffee on the balcony in the early morning, had a favorite book store, rapport with the employees. That had angered him - the thought of a shy smile shared between her and this mystery bookkeep, maybe one day, his number scrawled on her receipt, in the corner of the book's page. 

But as he'd come to know her, to let her know him... he realized: It wasn't true. None of it. She hadn't been the girl he'd imagined, the one with the warm get-togethers, the bookkeep lover... she walked into an apartment that she'd stuffed with furniture that would hold her, because nobody else would. A vision of him, frozen and alone, on his Mount Everest settlement, played through his mind. She held him close, because she knew the bite of the winter.

"I... me, neither," Homelander said quietly, holding her close. He sat his chin on her crown. "This... was the best Valentine's Day I could have asked for. You.. really did this for me, didn't you?"

The woman nodded, her smile soft. "I wish I could give you everything," she breathed. Homelander felt his eyes grow hot.

You do. You already do.

I love you, she thought, pressing him closer.

Homelander felt a quaking within him, the same as when she'd shut the door on New Year's. He'd wanted her to see him then, he recalled, chest tightening. Even now, even as they'd merged into a new being entirely, he felt that longing, resting heavy on his heart. He bent to kiss her instead, a soft croon escaping him at the feel of her pulling him in.

Call me John, he thought, heartbeat crashing into hers. Say it now. Please.

They lost themselves in each other, her hands carding through his hair, murmuring her love for him into his mouth, the hushed whisper of his fingers across her skin making her shiver. She held him in her arms, first with him resting his head on her chest, the lull of her heart melting him - and then, with his head in her lap, eyes closed as she smoothed his hair.

The ride came to a gentle halt then, and Homelander reluctantly rose, his face warm as she smiled at him. He stood, offering his hand to her, and they walked out of the tunnel together - to be met with a swarm of fans, cheering, applauding. 

They clamored for them, shouting their support, their love, Homelander thought, face split in a genuine grin as he took photos with the fans, the woman. He held children on his shoulders, kissed babies, posed with men and women dressed as him - but in the hoard of the Americana-colored commotion, something caught his eye: a flash of darkness, a glint of black steel. All of a sudden, all was wrong; one moment, the woman was in his arms, grinning up at him, and in the next - she was gone, whisked away and banished from his sight, like she hadn't been there at all.

Homelander wheeled around at once, the once-wanted throng of fans now suffocating in their unwelcome embrace. He spun wildly, pushing past them, calling out the woman's name - but to no avail. She was nowhere to be seen.

Not that the fans, the fucking fans, seemed to notice; they clambered for more of his time, someone even having the gall to touch his face in their desperation. He bored his gaze into them, shoving them away and stalking hurriedly through the crowd, heartbeat racing.

Where had she gone? Homelander craned his neck, bursting free from the masses and into the sky, scouring the area. Fuck! They were all wearing that damn costume - she was wearing the costume. Regret pooled in his gut, cold and suffocating. Why had he burned her clothes? It had seemed so sensual before, but now she was just another face in the crowd. He swooped lower, calling for her again, fist clenching at the crack in his voice.

Had this been her plan? To teach him the meaning of love then disappear, like some fucking Ghost of Christmas Past? 

Had someone taken her?

Was she even fucking real?

The thought pierced him, and suddenly he saw it - him, sitting at the coffeeshop alone. No wax warmer on his mantle. Him, lying his head on the cold seat in the Tunnel of Love, his heartbeat the sole, lonesome sound echoing in the rosy chasm.

His eyes burned hot for the second time that day - and fueled by that monstrous ache within, he unleashed a torrent of aether from them, the warmth radiating from him like rays of the sun. Instantly, blood erupted onto the scene beneath him. He veered dangerously low, shutting off the blast, searching for her again, finding nothing, and hissing in rage. His vision sparked red as he zoomed by, skating a hand along the ocean of carnage as he went.

The screams of the patrons rang in his ears, so similar to the praise from before - just as useless. He listened for her voice, her call - and grit his teeth only when the terror of the people answered him.

He blasted through the crowd, viscera flicking across his face and into his hair, and for a dark moment, the thought that it was her blood raced through him. He bit back a moan, a sob, and fired on, a growl building in his throat.

None were spared from his wrath in the wake of this theft - theft of joy, theft of love. Theft of her. Homelander hovered then, a dying remnant of his soul begging her to call to him, pleading with his thoughts, lip just shy of quivering. 

Please, answer me.

Please, at least have been real.

But no answer came, the silence ripping him apart, leaving him mauled and bloody. Homelander climbed higher, his face twitching, eyes trained on the roller coaster thirty feet away - and sent a jet of heat in its direction, the thunderous echo of its collapse tinny in his ears. All at once, the screams stopped.

Homelander let out a ragged breath, running a slick hand through his hair as he took in the destruction, gray smoke billowing into the sky. He sat on a ruined chair, head in his hands, the orange sky the sole witness to his despair, when the cry came, desperate in its shout.

"Homelander!"

Homelander whipped his head around, heart clambering up his throat, and rose at once, eyes wild. He hovered, calling out the woman's name, the ghost of hope flickering on his voice.

"Homelander!!"

He flew to the sound of her voice, skidding to a stop before her, taking her in with disbelieving eyes. She walked to him slowly, her wide eyes trained on him. She looked hesitant - afraid.

No. Please.

She couldn't be afraid - she'd promised him. And yet, there she was, shivering and withholding - scared to touch him.

No...

Homelander closed the distance, hands on her cheeks, his plea just shy of bursting from his lips, when she launched forward, kissing him hard, wrapping him in so tightly he could feel the pulse in her wrist against his neck.

"Where did you go?" he whispered frantically, eyes searching hers. She panted into his mouth. "The Seven. They took me. Just outside of the Tunnel of Love. Sage, Maeve, Noir, Deep... they took me, and told me all of these horrible things, told me I shouldn't have come here... trying to take me home. Trying to take you away from me."

Homelander darkened, his grip on her tightening. 

"That won't happen. Never."

But even as the thought calmed him, the memory of the horror on her face unsettled him, left him raw. It had been one thing, to tell her stories of his destruction, fables of the monster within... but now she had seen it, smelled the rotten tang of blood in the air as he pressed her to him.

She thought back to just moments earlier, the fantasy of Homelander as Mars, adorned in blood like so many droplets of rubies, clinging to his face, running down his chin. Had this really been what she'd wanted? Was this the fantasy, actualized?

No, she thought, wiping a freckle of blood from his cheek. It was better.

Because she hadn't lied to him - not once. Not about the asylum, or her hatred for the cold, or the shrine... but especially not about the murders.

Maybe she saw it as inevitable, she remembered, taking him into a kiss, the shower of blood sprinkling around them, turning the world rosy. Maybe she was angry for him.

Or maybe, she considered, pulling back to face him, heart pounding. Maybe...

"I love you," she breathed, eyes shining like the birth of stars. Homelander exhaled, crushing her to him. Her heartbeat found his then, and they stood, the slickness of the blood clinging them together.

"I love you," Homelander whispered, nodding. He pressed his forehead to hers.

The woman took a deep breath before she spoke again, eyes... almost amused. "You know... there's still one last thing we didn't get to do," she said, looking up at him. Homelander quirked a brow. She pointed to the Ferris Wheel.

"I also didn't win you that teddy bear..." he said almost sheepishly. She chuckled. "That is true... but I seem to recall someone saying something about getting me the world's largest teddy bear." Homelander laughed. "Oh, you recall, do you?" The woman pecked him on the cheek, face glowing.

Homelander wrapped his arms around her again - she was real, he thought, soothed - and flew them to the top of the Ferris Wheel, where the faint sound of sirens reached them. The woman turned to him, worried.

"Vought will likely stage the scene - oh, look! There they are!" he said, pointing down at the Vought personnel who'd arrived, cleaning up scorch marks, framing the carnage into something new.

"Probably a terrorist act," Homelander mused. The woman giggled. "They're like... worker bees," she said thoughtfully. Homelander felt something in his heart give at her words, the glow of the setting sun ethereal behind her head.

He leaned to kiss her one more time, the hint of blood on their lips, and she melted into his arms, sighing into him.

Best Valentine's Day ever, indeed.

[am-i-obsessed---maybe]

Disordered (Shadow Of A Bluejay Ch.9)

Whoooo, angst (light angst but angst) in general it's a shorter chapter because it's mostly reformatted from Shadow Of A Bluebird seeing as it covered much of the same ground.

My current plan is three more chapters (including the finale) and a few more mini chapters to cover the remaining episodes and milestones we need to hit to be ready for the finale one of which is gonna be Blue's first time meeting their fellow sidekicks!

Wordcount: 1.2k

Series masterpost

Mount Justice October 23, 17:30 EDT

It’d been a week since Batman put you and the team through a train for failure mission. A week to sit on everything that occurred in the increasingly horrifying experience where no matter what you did the situation kept getting worse. You refused to speak after the exercise. You didn’t leave the cave. You simply trained, and trained and trained while rerunning what had happened in the exercise in your mind.

Simulation Alien Mothership October 16th

Artemis was dead. Kaldur was dead. Connor was dead. Dinah was dead. Ollie was dead. Roy was probably either dead or dying and you felt anger that you haven’t felt in a very long time. You were full of rage, rage that bubbled under your skin as your friends and everyone who tried to help them died before your eyes and it bubbled until you reached the boiling point.

Once you, Robin, Kid Flash, Miss Martian and Martian Manhunter were almost out of the mothership. Almost saved the world you snapped. Not at your allies but at the aliens that surrounded you. The strange bug like creatures surrounded your and you let your anger take control and you stormed the Aliens, screaming a battle cry.

“How dare you?! You killed Artemis! You killed Dinah! You killed Ollie! You killed everyone, and I’m going to make your deaths painful!” You sneered, you jumped into action. Muscle memory took control and almost every blow you landed hit hard. Energy consumed your veins and you began zapping or electrocuting the aliens, it was unclear to you. It didn’t matter though and your rage filled alien murder spree continued. Robin forced the Martians to escape and joined your fight only for you to be zapped by an alien he was fighting.

That’s when you woke up. You looked around, you listened to the explanation and all you could do was look down at your slightly shaking hands in guilt.

You stayed away from the rest of the team after that, refusing to talk to anyone. The only person you talked to was Dinah and only to tell her you were fine and didn’t wanna talk about it.

Mount Justice October 23rd

Kaldur had gone in to see Dinah, Connor and Artemis already spoke to her and M'gann felt too bad to look any of you in the eyes. all had left the room, leaving only you, Robin and Wally sitting in the lounge.

The TV was black and silent and the three of you just sat there.

The three of you had all "died" together in the simulation. Wally was your best friend and Robin was his and leaving you three alone well...

"Blue, your floating again" Wally said. He sat on the couch opposite you.

"Sorry, my mind was drifting" You said, falling back onto the couch with a lack of grace the two had never seen before.

"This is awful" Robin said.

"Do you ever think, maybe we shouldn't be doing this?" You asked.

"What do you mean?" Wally asked.

"I know we're the good guys but maybe we're too dangerous to be so freely fighting, I mean, you saw how quickly all of us became soldiers in there" You said.

"Is this because of that weird laser thing you did on the mothership?" Wally asked.

"It's because we're dangerous! Because if we're not careful, if we don't control ourselves we could so easily hurt so many people" You said.

"I mean, Wally you could theoretically break the sound barrier, and Robin and I could kill someone with just our bare hands" Yo looked down at your hands.

"Is it really safe for the people around to us to be around us?" You asked.

"Of course it is" Robin said.

"Yeah, we'd never do anything to hurt anyone" Wally added.

"But it would be so easy for us" You said.

"Is this because of your um... meltdown in the simulation?" Robin aske.

"No, just forget it" You said, getting up and walking out.

Mount Justice October 23, 20:03 EDT

You sat in front of her in a green chair and took off your glasses.

“I’m glad you chose to come talk to me Y/N” She said and you laughed dryly.

“As if I could ever escape it” You joked but Dinah stayed silent, waiting for you to speak. She knew you. She knows you. She knows that those dry, sarcastic jokes are a sign you’re going to open up.

“It was weird at first. I didn’t feel bad after seeing you and Ollie disintegrate but when Artemis died, or when we thought she did this feeling in my chest just appeared. Like a promise or an oath I had to uphold.” You explained and Dinah nodded. “And what was that promise?” She asked, you answered, though still didn’t look up from your hands.

“To get revenge. To painfully tear apart those who killed her… And you and Ollie.” You answered truthfully and finally looked up at her. “And I did. I killed them, so many of them.” Your voice started to shake and you looked back at your hands.

“Did you try to hurt them when you killed them?” She asked and you nodded.

“I wanted to— I did enjoy seeing them squirm as I did it. And seeing them all explode, it just felt…” A single sob escaped you. “It just felt right.” You confessed and you looked down at your rapidly shaking hands. “I promised— I said I’d never do it again. I’d never take a life like that again, but I felt good as I did it.” Warm tears began to flow down your face but you didn’t try to wipe them. You simply stared at your hands, trying to stop the shaking by tightly gripping your knees and Dinah simply sat. Waiting for you to feel good enough to continue.

"You're not at fault Y/N" Dinah said.

"Aren't I though? Four years of progress and yet all it took for me to snap was some stress" You said.

"It wasn't just stress. M'gann's mental state infected you. You thought you lost everything. In a situation like that regressing is natural" She said.

"It's not just that, between the mission in Bialiya, my mission with Roy and this, it feels like, like it's all coming back to haunt me." You told Dinah, though that wasn't the whole truth. You didn't tell Dinah about your meeting with Lady Lilith. You didn't tell anyone that.

"Is it really coming back to haunt you or are you scared it will? Your past will always be there Y/N but you have friends, close friends who care about you. Maybe it's time you told them at least some of it" Dinah said.

"No!" You yelled.

"Absolutely not. They'll hate me" You said.

"Y/N, we classified your file to keep you and everyone around you safe but it's been four years and they haven't come after you. perhaps it's time we think about declassifying some of it?" Dinah suggested.

"No. Not yet." You said and reluctantly Dinah nodded.

"Whatever you decide. You set the pace." she said.

The next week was rough, Canary let you off school and you spent a lot of time in the cave and with Roy. Ollie wasn’t joking when he said that even Roy was worried and he came by to help you try and return to normal while you coped. You were incredibly grateful for the distractions and to spend more time with him. It had been four months since he went solo and in that time you didn’t get the chance to hang out like you used to before. Unfortunately not everything was going great.