#wide awake and alive than i’ve ever seen you. like finding half your heart in a car falling off a cliff and hating what you find

[mendingbone]

Loey & Adam— ꜱᴘᴇɴᴄᴇʀ ᴀʟʟᴇʏ, ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛʀᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʀᴇꜱᴛᴇꜱ - ɪᴍᴀɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏʀᴅ//ꜱᴏᴘʜᴏᴄʟᴇꜱ, ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛʀᴀ//ɢɪʟʟɪᴀɴ ꜰʟʏɴɴ, ɢᴏɴᴇ ɢɪʀʟ//ɴɪᴄᴏʟᴇ ꜱᴘᴇʀʟɪɴɢ, ᴊᴏʀᴅᴀɴ ᴘᴇᴇʟᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋꜱ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʜɪꜱ ɢᴇᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ-ᴜᴘ: “ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠɪʟ ɪꜱ ᴜꜱ”//ʀɪᴄʜᴀʀᴅ ꜱɪᴋᴇɴ, ᴀ ᴘʀɪᴍᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴍᴀʟʟ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ//ᴊᴏɴᴀᴛʜᴀɴ & ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴏᴘʜᴇʀ ɴᴏʟᴀɴ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴋɴɪɢʜᴛ (2008)// ʟᴜᴄʏ ᴅᴀᴄᴜꜱ, ᴛɪᴍᴇꜰɪɢʜᴛᴇʀ

River & Loey & Adam— ʟᴜᴄʏ ᴅᴀᴄᴜs,ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ sᴛᴀᴛᴇ...//sᴜsᴀɴ ʜᴏᴡᴇ, sɪɴɢᴜʟᴀʀɪᴛɪᴇs//ғʀᴀɴᴢ ᴋᴀғᴋᴀ, ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴍɪʟᴇɴᴀ//ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀɪᴀssɪᴄ ᴄᴜᴅᴅʟᴇ//ᴇᴛʜᴇʟ ᴄᴀɪɴ, ᴛᴡᴏ ᴄʜɪʟᴅʀᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴍᴏᴛᴇʟ ʙᴇᴅ//ɪsᴀᴀᴄ ᴍᴀʀɪᴏɴ, ᴡᴀʀᴍ ʙᴏᴅɪᴇs//ᴍᴀʙᴇʟ, ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ 𝟸𝟾: ᴍᴀᴛʀʏᴏsʜᴋᴀ//ᴇʀɪɴ sʟᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴛʜɪs sᴛᴏʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜɴ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜɴ.

[lovetorn]

in chains for you [dream]

Dream x Fem!Reader Criminals!AU

Summary: The Dream Team is an underground crime group that works for Techno Industries. But what happens when one of their most valuable members is taken for ransom by their enemy, Schlatt?

Warnings: Swearing & mean insults :(, kidnapping, death, violence, uhhh nothing else? message me if you see anything else!

Word Count: 8.1k+

A/N: I’m so sorry for any mistakes/plot holes, my adhd said no❤️ when i was editing :(

Note: Please remember these are all characters! Since I do not know any of these people in real life, I have created all aspects of their lives, personalities etc. and apologise for any OOC moments. I portrayed Schlatt as the villain purely from his role play in the Dream SMP, obviously, I do not believe him to be like this irl in any way. He is also written as much older than the Dream Team to enhance the villain-like characteristics. Remember, this is just fiction! Thanks! 

Night had fallen over California, and the icy breeze from the South blew through the city of Beverly Hills. The lights from several luxury hotels and displays lit up the streets and exposed the city. It was more alive than half the people that resided there. Here, people only cared about their money and their assets; barely any room left for emotions towards others that didn’t benefit them. 

“Hurry the fuck up, Sapnap!” 

The gravelly sound of Dream shouting prompted Y/n to run faster. Tensions were high as three criminals rushed to the dark SUV that sat running outside of the tall building. They clutched black duffle bags in both hands when the sound of familiar sirens cried a few blocks away. 

Unlocking the car, George threw open the back car door and launched his duffle bags onto the car seats before hopping in. Dream rounded the car and opened the door to the driver’s seat, Y/n doing the same for the passenger’s side. And whilst they were shoving the bags in, Sapnap came running out of the building, another duffle bag in his hand and a briefcase in the other. The ends of his white bandana flew around in the wind behind him as he missed a dip in the floor.

“What the fuck has he got now? We’ve gotta go!” George exclaimed, hurrying the boy by waving his hand. Dream put the car in drive as Sapnap slammed the door, “Go, go, go!”

The car squealed while Dream pulled off of the curb, the wheels screeching against the tar as he pressed his foot heavily on the accelerator. 40, 50, 70, 100, 130mph. The speedometer jumped by 10s and then by 40s as the car barrelled down the long strip of road, the wailings of sirens fading behind them. 

George, Y/n and Sapnap were laughing as they took their masks off. The sound pissed Dream off as he gripped the steering wheel harder; why is nobody taking this seriously? 

Ripping his white mask off his face and throwing it into his lap, Dream looked at Sapnap through the rearview mirror, “Why did you take so long? That could’ve fucked our whole plan!” 

“Jeez, chill out.”

Dream shot him a glare through the mirror as Sapnap put his hand up, “Schlatt said he had a briefcase full of Chick-Fil-A gift cards, so I grabbed the first one I saw.” 

George lolled his head to the side, mouth agape as he stared at him in disbelief. “Are you shitting me?” 

Sapnap shook his head, resting the case on his thighs and popping open the clasps. 

“Fuck yeah!” He cheered, turning the case around to show the rest of the car the bundles of hundreds of red and white cards that laid on a sheet of red velvet. Sapnap’s eyes remained as wide as saucers the entire time he tilted the case at different angles to ensure everybody saw. 

Y/n turned around in her seat to face the boys in the back and giggled. 

“Can I have one?” She asked, holding her hands up in a praying gesture. Sapnap laughed and nodded, “I’ve got enough for a whole country! And anything for you, Y/n.” Y/n smiled at him, mouthing a quick ‘thank you’ before turning back around to face the road that was gone as quick as it came. 

The deep sigh that came from Dream in the driver’s seat caught the attention of everybody in the car. Sapnap rolled his eyes and shut the case. “Calm down, green boy. She’s all yours.” 

Arriving at the motel George had found, the four lugged the black duffle bags in the small room. Locking the room door, Dream spun around to see everybody sitting on one of the single beds. 

He eyed the black duffle bags in the corner with a frown, each one full to the brim with thousands of 100 dollar bills that they had to transfer back to base. George cleared his throat when he saw his friend looking at the bags and raised his eyebrows, “Dream?” The man turned at the sound of his name and nodded once. He had an odd feeling in his stomach but decided to ignore it and face the problem at hand first before anything else.

Dream sighed, “We did good tonight,” The three on the bed hollering softly, fist-bumping each other before Dream continued. 

“But...” Y/n, George and Sapnap all groaned, throwing their heads back at the oncoming disappointment that Dream was going to throw on them.

“Sapnap, what the fuck was that? You can’t go off on your own tangents during a plan this big! What would’ve happened if—”

Sapnap’s eyes widened when he realised Dream’s rage was aimed towards him. “Dream! It’s okay, bro. I’m right here, we’re all alive—”

“Don’t talk back to me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Y/n avoided Dream’s gaze when it landed on her. She didn’t want him asking her to back him up; not tonight. 

“Anyway, I hope you all know what comes next.” The three nodded, heads down and eyes trained on the worn carpet. Sapnap and George stood up and went to different sides of the room, George to the bathroom and Sapnap to the desk where he pulled out his iPod and earphones. 

Dream watched as Y/n lifted her head back up, meeting his gaze. She gave him a soft smile and patted the space on the bed next to her. Dream ran a hand through his tangled blonde hair and walked over to her, sitting where her hand once was. 

“You okay?” She asked softly, placing her hand over his that sat in his lap. Dream nodded before huffing. “I just don’t know how successful this plan actually is. Something’s off.” He whispered, grabbing her hand. Y/n leaned forward to try and meet his green eyes; the ones that made her weak at the knees when he looked at her a certain way. But he didn’t need to know that considering they were just friends.  

“We did good today, look! We’re here, alive and well. And if something’s bothering you, just know that I’ll always be here to help you. Now, I need the bathroom.” She smiled, squeezing his hand before standing up. 

“George? When are you done?” She yelled at the bathroom door. Dream tilted his head to the side as he admired her, what would he do without her?

“Soon! Stop being annoying!” 

It had reached a point in the night where Dream couldn’t sleep. The single bed he laid in was uncomfortable, and the nagging feeling of doubt kept him awake. Something was wrong. 

He looked over a Y/n who laid in the other bed across from him. His top priority was to keep her safe; he had to. His eyes then travelled to his two other best friends—Sapnap in the desk chair and George on the brown couch. 

He smiled softly. Dream rarely got emotional, but seeing his friends and partners in crime—literally—so vulnerable, had his mind plagued with vicious scenarios that brought tears to his alarmingly vacant eyes. 

They weren’t always void, but seeing death as he did, had pushed the soul of nature out of his once striking eyes. He thought they looked dull now, matching the rest of his face, but Y/n always told him they were the prettiest she’d ever seen. He’d always flush when she said that which always elicited a poke in the ribs and a teasing comment from her. 

Dream forgot how long he’d been lying there, his mind drifting in and out of sleeping until a high-pitched squeak came from the main door. He reached for his knife that held a place under the pillow and sat up, holding his knife and facing the door. 

On the floor next to the door, sat an ominous black envelope. Dream chewed the inside of his lip, his heart beating rapidly with panic. How did they find them?

— 

“How the fuck did they find us?” George asked, his palms sweaty as he held the letter in his hands. The gold foiling around the letters was both alluring and terrifying. 

Palm Casino.  Wednesday Night. 12am.  Be there, or face death. 

Dream had rolled his eyes when he read the letter for the first time; Schlatt was so dramatic. And although fear and doubt had set in his stomach, he didn’t let his friends know. 

How did they find them? They had been careful with the robbery, getting everything they needed without leaving a trace, nothing out of place, except for—

Dream shoved his partners out of the way and leaned down to pick up the briefcase with the Chic-Fil-A gift cards. Sapnap went to interject, primarily to save his prized possession when Y/n grabbed his elbow and shook her head when he turned to her. 

Dream opened it then turned it upside down, emptying the cards onto the rotting carpet. 

“Dream—” 

“Shut up.” He then continued to rip the velvet from the inside of the case to reveal a small box with a red flashing light. Sapnap stopped his wriggling and stood staring at the device. 

“This is your fault, you dipshit.” 

Sapnap was silent. Y/n softened her grip to rub his elbow comfortingly instead, the action making Dream narrow his gaze. The girl rolled her eyes and spoke up, “How was he supposed to know it was in there, Dream? You can’t blame him for this at all.” 

Dream shook his head and dropped his gaze to the floor before huffing and scrunching his nose in a disgusted manner.

Midnight had arrived quickly, like a thief in the dark, and the crescent moon hung high in the sky. A light breeze swept into the city, making the palm trees sway in the delicate moonlight as a black SUV pulled up to the Palm Casino. 

“Okay, here we go. I want you all on your best behaviour,” Dream joked. And as his mask only hid half of his face, a lopsided grin graced his face as he popped the door open. Y/n knew that smile; it was one that was begging for chaos, but she knew it was just a deflection from his real emotions. 

Walking to the entrance, Y/n reached up and placed her hand on Dream’s shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Dream let out a laugh, “Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

The boys sported black on black suits with matching Rolex watches, the gold of the timepieces shining in the low light. The only differences between them being Dream’s smiley mask, Sapnap’s white bandana in his hair, and George’s white glasses upon the top of his head. Y/n, on the other hand, wore a fitting dress with gold jewellery. She would’ve worn anything else, but considering the situation, she complied. 

As the waitress walked them over to the poker table, Y/n caught Dream’s hand in her own, squeezing it once before letting go. She knew he was worried and the action in itself was enough to calm Dream’s nerves for the time being, but as soon as he made eye contact with Schlatt, it all went away. 

“Boys! How are we doing?” The man yelled, throwing his arms up with a smile on his face. Dream nodded once and sat down at the table, Sapnap and George following. Y/n went to sit beside Sapnap but was cut off by Schlatt who took it upon himself to police the members at said table. 

“I’m sorry, gorgeous. I’m afraid this game is only for the men.” He gave her a tight-lipped smile and clasped his hands on the table. Y/n narrowed her gaze at him before rolling her eyes and moving to stand behind Dream. 

Schlatt then stood and excused himself from the table, making George throw Dream a confused look before the man spoke up. He walked towards another room, guarded by velvet ropes, but not before shouting, “Let the games begin!” 

—  

Dream sat observing the last man in the game next to himself, ensuring he wouldn’t lose, not that he ever did. He had learnt from his father early on to read the expressions of the players around him and how to benefit from the folds and raises. People were shocked when they found out his age, bewildered that such a young man could earn numbers like that. 

Dream stared narrowly at the man; his eyebrows raised as he wore a sly smirk. The man in front of him was profusely sweating, his hand reaching to grasp a tissue from his pocket as the last community card was placed down. The surrounding men groaned; their expressions irritable as the Dream Team gained another win. Dream threw the cards onto the Poker table and stood up, offering his hand to the gentleman. He reluctantly accepted then hurried out of the room, four of his acquaintances following.  

Y/n watched as Dream swapped seats with Sapnap, allowing him his turn at the game. She then moved and leaned down to Dream’s ear, “This is bullshit, where’s Schlatt gone?”

Dream shook his head and shrugged quickly, “Fuck knows.”

“Let’s go, Sapnap,” A man they recognised as Fletcher spoke, sitting down in front of the young man as his buddies filed around the table to take their seats. Sapnap didn’t talk, he only glanced back at Dream who tilted his head, holding his forefinger up to indicate this would be their last round.  

Once Sapnap had collected his two starting cards, the game began. Dream watched as each of the men were eliminated through folds and how they apologised to Fletcher for letting him down. The man brushed them off, telling them to “watch how it’s done”. Dream, Sapnap and George stifled a laugh as they watched the second last man fold. Behind them, Y/n grew impatient and began mumbling to herself about how ridiculous it was.

“Excuse me? Can’t you see we’re in the middle of a round? Get the fuck outta here.” Fletcher said, his voice harsh as Y/n’s eyebrows flew to her hairline. Dream went to interject before the man spoke again. 

“A scotch on the rocks.” He then said. 

“I’m not a waitress.” Y/n’s voice was monotone while the man waved her away. Y/n scoffed before she moved towards him. Dream’s hand flew out to catch her wrist, and Y/n rolled her eyes. As angry as Dream was, he wasn’t going to start something with Schlatt’s men before the meeting actually started. Sapnap didn’t pay any attention to the conversations around him, focusing only on winning.

Fletcher chuckled, holding his cards close to his chest, “you dumb kid”. Sapnap’s facial expression went from serious to amused, watching as the dealer placed down the final community card. Sapnap’s eyes flickered to Fletcher’s grey ones as he slammed his cards down on the table. Sapnap then reached to gather his winnings in chips, earning pats on the back from George and a gentle laugh and fist-bump from Dream. 

Fletcher sat in disbelief; he was sure he would win this one. Sapnap stood up and embraced George in a hug before moving to Dream as Fletcher circled around the table. 

“You cheating bastard!” Sapnap held his hands up in defence, clueless as to why this man was coming at him. 

“No cheating here, Fletch, just plain luck,” He grinned, clearly not fearful of him. 

“Dude just take the loss and move on, it’s not that deep,” Y/n said, catching the attention of Fletcher again. 

“Not now, you whore. The men are talking,” Fletcher glowered, looking intimidatingly down at the girl. 

Y/n, however, wasn’t fazed by his words, “Look, it’s not his fault that you lost. I guess you just suck at Poker.” Fletcher’s face went bright red, and Y/n swore she saw steam coming out of his ears. Her eyes widened as she took a step back slowly. George pushed her behind him despite her protests of being able to handle herself. 

“Come on Fletch, there’s no need to go after an innocent woman,” Dream asserted, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. He soon realised that his actions were a mistake as Fletcher spun around and threw his fist towards Dream’s nose. Dream’s mask had cracked slightly on impact, his green eyes widening in panic as he stumbled back slightly. 

Sapnap scanned the other men around them and calculated their next moves before he ducked a punch from a redhead. George’s hands gripped under Dream’s armpits as he pulled him up, dodging fists from the older men. Dream’s eyes were watering from the unexpected hit to the nose, and he could barely see.  

But what he did see was Y/n raising the metal drinks tray she found on the poker table next to them and slamming it down on the back of Fletcher’s bald head. Her eyes were wide as she stood behind his figure that was now on the floor, groaning. Her eyes met his and Dream felt his breath catch in his throat, but he couldn’t acknowledge it at the present time because there were five other guys to deal with. 

Dream regained his posture and cocked his head to the right, stretching his neck before standing off to the others. The men stood with their fists raised in front of their faces and their feet apart, ready to engage. George, Sapnap and Dream were just as confused as Y/n was, who was making sure Fletcher stayed down. 

“I really fucking hate you guys. Let’s get a move on with the meeting, shall we?” Y/n said lazily, she just wanted to get home. 

—

Dream sat in a large black chair, the lower half of his face covered in blood, the top half covered by his stained, cracked mask. Y/n had her legs crossed, with a stern expression, glaring at Schlatt as he rounded the table to sit at his obnoxiously large desk. 

Schlatt had demanded it only be Dream and Y/n in the office with him, making George and Sapnap wait outside. The two boys had angrily complained about it, but Dream assured them it would be fine, leaving them to sulk next to the heavy wooden door that led to Schlatt’s office. 

“You two make a good pair, eh?” Schlatt smirked, bringing his hands to interlock in front of him on the desk. Dream glanced at Y/n, who gave him a bored look. 

He then turned back to the front, “Why are we here, Schlatt?” 

“Oh, not very friendly,” He laughed, earning no responses from anyone in the room except for his assistant, Quackity, who stood in the corner. “That’s Quackity by the way.” 

Dream shrugged, uninterested with the introduction of his assistant and remained still until Schlatt continued.

“Now, tell me where the money is, Dream.” There it was—the literal million-dollar question.

The masked blonde didn’t react. Y/n cast her eyes towards him, seeing nothing but the white mask that covered his face. The smile on the front was a harsh contrast to the anger Dream felt. And when Schlatt huffed and wiggled his fingers at Quackity, then Dream perked up. 

Suddenly, Y/n wrists were being grabbed by Quackity, who had crossed the room in seconds. Dream immediately stood, only to be pushed back by Schlatt who had moved in front of him. 

Y/n opened her mouth object when Quackity whacked his free hand over her mouth. She let out a whimper at the smack, tears welling in her eyes in shock. Nonetheless, she continued to struggle against his harsh grip on her wrists. Y/n’s breathing became heavier, her thoughts clouded with fear of the unknown; what would Schlatt want with her?  

Quackity dragged the girl from the large chair towards the other side of the room, where another door lay, but he didn’t take her in yet. Dream’s gaze was locked on Y/n, everything else slipping away as he watched her thrash against her captor. 

“Let’s call it leverage?” Schlatt’s haunting voice echoed through the room, and he had an evil gleam in his eye. “You tell me where you hid the money, and I’ll let her go.” 

Dream’s head was on a swivel when he turned back to face Schlatt. Panic blossomed in his stomach; if he gave up the money, they’d all be dead. And as hard of a decision as it was, Dream knew what to do—he had his full faith in Y/n. He remembered what she had told him when they first started working together and drew in a breath. He nodded at Y/n once, receiving a pleading look in reply, and sighed.  

“Give ‘em hell, baby.” 

—

“Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” Sapnap spat as the three men got back into the SUV outside of the casino. George shook his head in the backseat, scoffing as Dream ignored their questions. 

Meanwhile, Dream drove in complete fury. He knew what he did was wrong and stupid, but Y/n once demanded he let her go if she was ever held for ransom. It was an odd request at the time. And this was an irrational move that could get her killed, but he had no choice—it was her or the whole operation, and Dream was loyal. 

“Hello? You fuckin’—” 

“Sapnap.” 

The youngest froze at Dream’s tone and sunk into his seat, choosing to look out of the window than at him. He flexed his hand against the steering wheel, refusing to meet their gazes.

“Y/n asked me before any of this started, that if she were to ever be held hostage, for ransom, whatever, to trust her and let them take her. I don’t know why I never asked her why, but we have to trust her, and you have to trust me for making this decision.”  

“Call Techno and tell him that Schlatt’s taken one of us for ransom.” Dream said to no one in particular. Sapnap scrambled to get his phone from his pocket and dial their boss’ number, but not before turning and facing Dream from the passenger’s seat. 

“I—we trust you, Dream. And we’ll be with you till the end, okay?” Sapnap mumbled, gesturing to George in the backseat.  

“She’ll be fine.” Dream had a hard time believing George, “We know Y/n, she’s a strong girl—a whole lot stronger than us—she’ll get through it.” 

The piercing sound of metal against metal made Y/n cringe, distracting her from the burning of the new rope bound around her wrists. Quackity’s heavy breathing almost made her laugh, they hadn’t even walked for that long.

He didn’t say anything to Y/n when he guided her inside a cell. She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked around the dirty space, scrunching her nose in disgust as she noticed the damp walls and the stray cockroach that scurried across the floor. 

“I’m sorry about the state of this, we don’t have visitors often,” Quackity said, exhaling a scoff he let go of her arms. Y/n’s face dropped when she felt the rope loosen and fall off her wrists. She remained still as Quackity rummaged around behind her. 

The screech of the cell door closing startled Y/n—she thought she’d have more time to fight back. She heard Quackity shuffle away from the cell, and shortly after, the sound of dress shoes tapping on the concrete floor caught her attention. 

Y/n slowly turned around when someone cleared their throat behind her. She rolled her eyes as she came face to face with Schlatt. He stood with his hands behind his back in his usual arrogant suit and his deep red tie.

“Do you know why my tie is this red?” He asked, his head tilted to the side with a patronising smirk. It was an odd question, but Y/n could already guess the answer, she just didn’t want to hear it when she was this vulnerable. 

Schlatt leaned down and closer to the cell, his face fitting perfectly between the bars as his eyes glared into Y/n’s.  

“It’s so you can’t see the bloodstains.” He winked before sanding to his full height, his mood shifting entirely, “Anyways, I’m gonna keep this short. Get comfortable, Princess, you’ll be here awhile knowing Dream and his goons.” 

With a clap of his hands and a small chuckle, Schlatt left, his shoes clacking down the hallway and into the elevator at the end of the hallway. The machine dinged and then it was gone, leaving Y/n in a deafening silence. 

She sank to her knees, crestfallen, onto the concrete beneath her, still in her tight dress. As strong-minded as Y/n was, she couldn’t bring herself to give a witty remark. She was absolutely defeated. She knew Dream would get her out, eventually, but at what cost? Would Dream let everything the Dream Team has worked for in the past 3 years go to waste? For her? 

She didn’t let herself cry as she picked herself up, and hesitantly sat on the cot in the corner of the cell. Her dress was uncomfortable, and the feeling of satin against her skin irritated her immensely. 

Y/n had no idea how far underground she was; she sat in complete darkness and utter silence, nothing but the ringing of her ears and her screaming thoughts to keep her company. 

—

Dream paced the small space, tearing at his hair roots with his fists, his face red with panic and anger. He was so in his head; he couldn’t hear his two friends calling his name from 3 feet away. The thought of Y/n alone with Schlatt made him so infuriated he could punch a hole through the brick wall next to him. The ringing in his ears was deafening, and the stinging of his nails digging into his palms was numbing. 

Sapnap threw George a concerned glance, his brown eyes pleading George to do something to stop Dream from falling further into an endless loop of guilt and despair. 

“Dream!” The sound of George calling him in that tone caused him to pause his pacing. He turned to look at his English friend with wide eyes, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“You need to stop! Y/n wouldn’t want you having an existential crisis over her, she’d want you to hurry up and figure out a plan to get her back.”

Dream stood frozen for a moment; what would Y/n want? It was like a switch flipped inside Dream when he stood up straight, sending him into autopilot. All emotion wiped was from his face, leaving his eyes vacant and face blank. And as much as George hated to admit it, this cold version of his best friend knew what to do and how to do it efficiently. The sudden change shocked Sapnap slightly, leaving him frightened as he grabbed onto George’s sleeve. 

“Ok boys, let’s get to work.”

Emotion is a weakness, and they sure did not need that right now. 

Y/n had been suffering in the same tight dress and uncomfortable heels for a week; Schlatt’s lack of humanity and human decency (as well as kidnapping her in the first place), had put him in Y/n’s bad books.  

The only human interaction she had was Quackity bringing her meals twice a day and the small conversations they would have as she ate. He didn’t talk about his work much, only hinting at his eventual betrayal and escape from Schlatt. Although, he continually spoke of his family to her, telling Y/n that he was there against his will and was threatened with death if he left. She felt sympathy for the boy, he was so young. 

When Alex, as she now calls him, left her, Y/n was back with her mind. She had remained seemingly sane despite being in solitary confinement but was going insane without Dream. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his emerald ones gleaming at her through the darkness, their vibrance giving her shivers. 

She missed his touch: his cold hands in her’s, their knees brushing slightly when sitting on the motel bed, his hand on her thigh in the car, despite complaints from the boys. She cared deeply for him, and she knew he did too, but they were both too scared of rejection to get together. Sapnap always teased them for being ‘pussies’, and George would roll his eyes whenever they would flush at their closeness—god, she missed them too.

Biting her lip, Y/n tried her best to prevent tears from falling down her cheeks. But she hadn’t let them fall since being held ransom, fearing she would be seen as weak by Schlatt, and even Alex. The burning at the back of her throat was fiery as she let them out. She struggled to breathe, clawing at her throat when she felt her lungs tighten. Y/n tried to sit upright to calm herself down, but her pained cries filled the cold, concrete basement and rattled the cell bars. She sobbed for hours, only falling asleep when the last ones dried. 

—

As Dream put the car in park, he turned to face George in the passenger’s seat.

“You ready?” He asked. George exhaled and nodded, “Let’s get her back.” 

Dream smirked. His attitude had flipped entirely from last week, leaving him cocky and ready to fight the world. However, George saw through his best friend’s act. He heard Dream’s choked and ragged cries in the bathroom at 4 am, and noticed his red, puffy eyes at 7 am when they woke up. He saw the way his hands shook every time he drove, and he caught onto Dream’s routine of not eating until Sapnap would force him away from the table with the plans spread across it. 

George was concerned for his best friend, and Dream was oblivious. But despite everything, George knew he was determined to get Y/n back, above all else. Her life came before his own, and that scared George to his core, how far would Dream go to save Y/n?

“Ok, Geor—” The piercing screams of fire alarms made Dream jump as they echoed down the street. The two boys shared a surprised look before they hopped out of the SUV. They jogged down the road towards the Palm Casino with black duffle bags on their shoulders.  

Flames rose as high as the sky and embers rained on Dream and George as they ran through the smoke to the entrance. Employees darted out of the main doors, crashing into the boys as they continued to the central control room of the casino. George heaved the heavy door open before closing it firmly behind them. They dropped the bags and began drinking in the clean air as they set their eyes on Sapnap who sat behind a desk with his feet up on the table. 

“Well, boys, how did I do?” He said, arms out as he cocked his eyebrow up. George laughed in disbelief, “I can’t believe that worked.”  

Sapnap shook his head quickly, “You had no faith in me, did you?” He threw his hand on his chest and stood up from his spot. 

“Sap, you did great!” Dream exclaimed, walking over to slap the boy on the back. Sapnap’s pained expression turned into a smile as he watched George do the same. 

“Ok then, where’s the security office?”

—

“I can’t fit my fat ass through there, Sapnap.” Dream’s jaw dropped as he measured the gap with his hands, “There’s just no way!” 

George rolled his eyes and pushed Dream towards the duct, “Just go! Do you want Y/n back or not?” Dream’s face scrunched up, much like a child when having a tantrum, and whined. 

“Why don’t you just go? I simply just cannot fit! Here, you wanna see?” George and Sapnap nodded, amused looks on their faces as they watched him dive headfirst into the air duct. 

His body slipped in in such an elegant way that it made them burst out laughing. Dream, who couldn’t see his friends, exhaled deeply before he began crawling along. His movements heightened their laughter, seeing him wiggle through, but it only made Dream more determined to pursue the journey. 

“Oh yeah, you have such a fat ass, Dream! Throw it back for me, baddie!” Sapnap yelled after him, his giggles interrupting the sentence a few times. 

George and Sapnap’s antics were long gone, and all Dream could hear was the squeaking of an elevator and the creaking of the metal beneath him. He had memorised the layout of the ducts in his head and decided that this was the spot to drop down into.  

The first basement looked usual,  with a boiler in the corner and some filing cabinets lining the walls. Dream dropped from the ceiling with no sound, moving silently towards the elevator in the opposing corner of the large room. The sound of shoes slapping the hard ground paused Dream’s movements before he moved quickly behind a cabinet. 

“—He said not to go down there, Tubbo. What do you think he’s hiding?” 

Dream furrowed his eyebrows, were those kids? He adjusted his mark slightly before he peeked around the corner of the filing cabinet. Sure enough, Dream saw two teenage boys, one significantly taller than the other. But nonetheless, they were definitely very young. Why did Schlatt hire two British kids to guard his secret underground prison? Dream shook his head, glancing down at the floor as he crept out of his hiding spot. 

“Oi!” He heard. Dream looked up, seeing the taller boy stalk towards him. The blonde boy stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening as he looked back at the other boy. 

“Tubbo, do you know who this is?” The blonde asked in disbelief. The shorter one nodded, his expression lifting at the sight of Dream. Their jaws dropped as Dream exhaled deeply. 

“Dream? As in the Dream Team? As in Techno Industries?” Dream rolled his eyes behind his mask. He didn’t respond as the two boys inched closer to him. 

“Listen, I’ll give you a few bucks if you don’t mention this to Schlatt, got it?” Dream growled, shoving his hand in his pocket and pulling out a few hundred-dollar bills. The boys’ eyes shone, the shorter one reaching forward to accept the bribe before the blonde pushed him back. 

“That’s all? I was expecting at least a grand each from THE Dream.” He smirked. Dream remained expressionless and went to decline before the blonde continued. “It’s a grand each or I tell Schlatt you were snooping around his casino.” 

Dream shook his head and pulled another $600 from his pocket and shoved it into their hands, “Now shut the fuck up, or I’ll do it myself.” 

The taller one went to reply, but the other one pulled on his sleeve and shook his head. He rolled his eyes and mumbled a string of curse words before turning and stomping away. The other boy muttered a quick ‘thank you’ with a small smile on his face and hurried off in the direction of the staircase that went up to the casino’s main floor. Dream guessed that the fire had been taken care of by the way they fled carelessly up the stairs. 

Dream sighed and trod over to the elevator. He pressed the arrow to go down and groaned when the scanner next to it blinked red. 

He scrunched up his face when he glanced back towards the air duct. The only other option was to try and get down the air duct and into the rafters in the basement below. 

Dream had the urge to throw a temper tantrum at Sapnap’s shitty planning. He pulled himself back up into the duct and crawled towards the wall where the elevator was. Reaching a sharp drop, Dream looked over the edge, his eyes widening at the height. He grunted as he positioned himself above the fall; all he had to do was slide down. 

He could hardly see the bottom, but he knew if he slid down as planned, he would go straight through. So, instead, Dream slowly moved his arms and legs into the small space and gradually let himself down, inching closer to the bottom with every move.  

Sweat dripped down his temple, and his muscles ached as he went, his palms becoming slippery against the smooth and thin metal. He held his breath as he reached the bottom, scared any sound he made would attract unwanted attention from whoever could be in the vicinity.  

He let out a quiet, steady breath, and he returned to his hands and knees in the horizontal air duct. His original plan was irrelevant, so he didn’t know the map of the air ducts in the second basement, leaving him guessing. 

Once he thought the spot was right, he harshly pushed on a panel of the duct below him, hearing it clatter on the concrete as it hit the ground. He cringed at the sound and slowly lowered himself onto the beams that were directly below him. How convenient. 

The sharp sound of the panel dropping had caught the attention of several guards. On this level, there were actual security guards with weapons and not lippy teenagers. Dream made eye contact with one of them, scolding himself when the man scrambled for his walkie talkie as he spotted Dream on the beams above. 

Dream rolled his eyes and dropped from the ceiling, crouching as he landed before standing up. He brought his pointer finger to his lips before bringing his fist to his neck and dragging his thumb across the skin. The action itself made the security guard’s eyes widen and freeze his movements. Dream’s sadistic smile and seemingly wild nature made the guard move backwards into the wall as he passed. 

He went around another corner and was met with an entirely different area he wasn’t expecting. But, Dream was sure he was going to succeed in finding Y/n and escaping as soon as possible. And of course, the echo of a sinister whistle made him freeze. Fuck.

“Dream! Hey, buddy, how’s it going?” As Schlatt rounded the corner, a smirk spread across his smug face, Dream squeezed his eyes shut. 

“A little friend of mine told me you were here! Just thought I’d come and say hi,” He chuckled as Dream cracked his knuckles. Damn kids.

“Schlatt, where’s Y/n?” Dream demanded, cracking his neck when he jerked his head to the side. 

“Now, that’s not a nice way to greet a friend, is it, Dream?” 

Dream’s eyes widened behind his mask. He stood stunned, no words coming from his mouth. 

“Dream, she’s not yours. She never has been. So why do you think you have to save her?” Dream’s expression remained the same as Schlatt continued, “You’re too pussy to even ask her out, let alone be her boyfriend.” It was a ridiculous argument, Schlatt knew that, but he was positive he was going to get a rise out of Dream this way. 

He sneered at Dream’s silence, the deep rumble of his cackle rattling Dream’s bones. Suddenly, a scream added to the ominous atmosphere that Schlatt had created, and Dream jumped into action, launching himself at the older man. 

“Where is she?” His voice became raspy as he threw a punch at Schlatt’s temple. Schlatt growled at the attempt and hurled his arm back at Dream. He dodged it, barely, but stepped back and rushed towards the cell Y/n was in. 

“Y/n?” He shouted, ducking and searching for the girl through the bars of the numerous cells that lined the basement. 

“Here.” 

The sound of her broken voice snapped Dream into action. Sprinting down the hallway, he was met with Y/n’s grubby and exhausted body. His heart broke at the sight of her, and he gripped the bars, pulling and pushing them in an attempt to break them. 

Dream was so caught up in getting Y/n out, he didn’t notice Schlatt coming from his left. 

The impact of a fist colliding with his temple sent Dream stumbling to the right, his mask cracking slightly in the corner at the force. He grunted in pain before spinning to meet Schlatt again, who had his arm raised in its previous position. Dream tried to shake his head from his dazed state, the unexpected hit stunning his consciousness. 

Schlatt aimed once again and swung his fist to hit Dream in the face. But, Dream saw it coming and swivelled to the left to dodge the incoming punch. Schlatt let out a guttural sound, growing frustrated with his miss. The hit to his temple left Dream seeing stars; however, he managed to duck and strike Schlatt in his stomach, earning a deep groan. The older man recovered quickly, picking himself back up to his full height as he mumbled, “bastard.” 

Dream was losing shamefully, lazily avoiding punches and swaying lightly as Schlatt grinned at his anticipated win. 

Whilst Dream stumbled slightly, Schlatt snickered, his fist coming across to hit him again. This time, the punch followed through and cracked his ceramic mask fully, the object dropping to the ground and shattering on impact. Schlatt barked out a laugh as he watched the pieces scatter.  

“And here we have, the real Dream! You know, you’re not what I expected. Definitely uglier.” He cackled, doubling over in laughter as Dream watched. He blinked and was void of any emotion as Schlatt stood back up. 

“What? Can’t take a joke?” Dream clenched his jaw, and he lunged forwards, his hands coming to grip onto Schlatt’s shoulders and bringing his knee up to jab him in his stomach. He groaned out in pain as he doubled over, yet again, but this time not in joy. 

The back of Dream’s belt that held his handgun was screaming at him. So, reaching behind him, Dream revealed his firearm. The weapon had wiped Schlatt’s smug look off of his face, replacing it with one of fear. His expression mocked Dream, although he didn’t catch onto Schlatt’s taunting. 

“Dream, listen, buddy—” 

“Shut the fuck up, Schlatt.”

But, Dream’s face contorted to something of confusion and horror when Schlatt started chuckling. He pulled the side of his suit jacket to the side to reveal a similar Glock, making Dream freeze his once confident motions. 

“You see, I’m always 3 steps ahead of you, Dream,” Schlatt tormented, pulling the gun from its secure place in his jacket.  

“You’re fucked now.” Dream went to lunge at him again, but Schlatt stepped to the side and pushed him down.

Dream’s gun went sliding across the polished concrete and out of his reach. The blonde swore as he saw Schlatt stumbling towards his fallen body. He lifted himself off of the ground, panting heavily as he ducked another punch from the older man. Dream stepped back, balancing his weight on his right foot, and threw his fist out towards Schlatt’s cheek. The punch landed, and Schlatt staggered backwards slightly, blood dripping from his lips as he grinned. 

“I see how it’s gonna be,” He lifted his arm and aimed the gun towards Y/n, who stood in the cell behind him. Dream leaned to the side to catch Y/n’s pained gaze. 

“Please,” Dream’s strained voice was barely audible through Schlatt’s booming psychotic laughter. Clenching his fists, Dream glared at him, “Don’t do this, Schlatt.” 

“Oh, Dream, I could do this all day!—” A flat crack bounced off the concrete room and was soon followed by a heavy thud. Dream swallowed in shock as he watched deep red blood spill across the floor, oozing out of the fresh wound. He was frozen in his spot as he watched the body twitch and then loll, unmoving. 

“Dream?” Dream’s eyes flickered from Schlatt’s body to Y/n, who stood with his gun loosely in her hand. 

“Y/n?” His voice was weak as he struggled to stand. The clatter of the gun dropping on the hard surface didn’t come close to silence the thoughts running through his head.  

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m okay, I’m here. Dream?” Y/n cried, wrapping her arms around Dream’s stiff body. His hand came up to feel the wetness on his cheeks, and he pulled it away, seeing red smeared on his fingers. 

“He’s gone?” He whispered, earning a nod from Y/n, “It’s okay.”

“No, I know. It just shocked me, that’s all. I thought he killed you.” 

Y/n sighed, tightening her grip on him, pressing her face into his shoulder, “I’m right here, see. I’m not hurt, I’m fine, with you.”  

Dream turned his head towards her, an unsure expression on his face as he threw his arms around her. 

“Fuck, I thought—” 

“Dream. Deep breaths.” He nodded, following Y/n’s motions in breathing evenly. 

“Jesus, usually you’re the one helping me calm down from something like this,” Y/n giggled, her hand coming to run her fingers through his hair, not minding the dampness of drying blood. A smile broke out on Dream’s face before he noticed Y/n’s eyes widen and her head fly to the side to search for something. 

“What’s wrong?” Dream asked, seeing Y/n’s eyebrows crease, “Your mask.” She whispered, spotting the shattered ceramic feet away from where they sat. 

Dream breathed out a laugh, bringing her face back towards his, “My mask is the least of my worries right now.” 

“I’ll buy you a new one tomorrow.” 

“Of course, you will.” 

“Y/n!” Sapnap yelled, running towards the girl as she pushed open the security office door. Y/n locked her arms around Sapnap’s shoulders as they embraced, the pair giggling in disbelief. 

“How have you guys not been kicked out yet? The fire’s out.” Dream said, closing the door behind them. George shrugged, “Paid ‘em off.” Dream snorted in response.

When Y/n pulled away from Spanap, she hugged George, who was eagerly waiting behind them. 

“Don’t do that ever again. You left me with two dumbasses for so long,” George mumbled. Y/n felt tears fill her eyes as she squeezed George tighter, “I missed you guys so much.”

And after a teary reunion, the group sat around the desk in the middle of the room. 

“Where’s the big man himself?” Sapnap nervously laughed, dread ate at his conscience at the thought of Schlatt coming after them again. 

“Schlatt’s dead.” The news had George raising his eyebrows and pushing his head forward, “Huh? Sorry? What?” 

“He’s dead, Y/n killed him.” Dream stated, earning a small smile from Sapnap that Y/n laughed at. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. Sapnap’s reaction made me giggle.” 

The group shared a collective rumble of laughter before Dream suggested they went back to the motel. 

“Hey,” Dream whispered at Y/n when she passed him, gently grasping her elbow. “You guys go ahead, I just need to speak with Y/n,” He continued, waving the boys in the direction of the car. George and Sapnap shared a knowing look and tried their best to conceal their cheeky smiles. 

“What’s up with them?” Y/n asked, throwing her thumb over her shoulder at the boys. Dream shook his head slightly, “No clue.” 

“Anyway, I just wanted to ask how you are. You know, after everything.”

Y/n nodded, “I’m okay, I think. I don’t think anything’s really hit me yet.” Dream sighed in response. 

Y/n sucked her lips between her teeth, throwing her arms around Dream’s neck in a hug. He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

“Thank you,” She whispered in his ear, her voice cracking with emotion. Dream’s heart clenched at the sound and tightened his grip around her. 

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. I’d go to the ends of the earth for you, you know that,” He murmured, hiding his reddening face in her neck. He flushed, even more, when he felt her lips against his neck, “I love you, so much, Dream.” 

Dream’s heart skipped a beat before he pulled his head from her neck. His green eyes looked into hers, the closeness of them making Y/n inhale sharply. 

“And I love you. Don’t forget that, okay?” He replied, his voice low. Y/n nodded shortly, inching her lips up to his. 

“Kiss me.” She muttered, nudging his nose with hers. Dream laughed breathy before leaning down and brushing his lips against hers. 

Their bodies had become flushed against one another, her hips against his as they shared a heated kiss. Dream pulled away first, his cheeks pink and his lips plump. Y/n whined silently, bouncing in her heels at the loss of his lips. 

Dream smiled widely at her, “I guess I want you more than I thought I did.” Y/n gasped, taking her hand from his neck to slap his chest, giggling like a schoolgirl at his teasing. 

“Shut up, you’ve wanted me since you met me,” She said to which Dream nodded. 

“You got that right, baby.” 

Feedback is greatly appreciated, always xoxo

[forever-rogue]

Can you do one where reader (who's partners with them) goes on a date and Javi happens to already be at the same bar the date takes place and at one point the reader doesn't feel good so she seeks out Javi and he quickly realizes she's been roofied?

I love protective Javi, but then again, don’t we all?

Warnings: drug mention, mention of violence, mentions of sex but nothing descriptive, language, 18+ only!

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier was a lot of things. A walking contradiction as much as he was steadfast in his ways. When you’d first met him, you’d been severely tempted to punch him right in his smug handsome face with that stupid charming grin, and that singular dumb dimple that already made your heart flutter.

It was your first day on the job, a fresh, brand new agent and the bastard had the nerve to ask you to fetch him a coffee. Not only that, but the way he had the balls to end the request with a slow, drawn sweetheart.

You’d exchanged a wry look with Steve, the golden haired man you already decided you liked much better. He had shrugged innocently and turned back to his papers with what you were positive was a smug little grin on his face. Back then you’d been annoyed, but looking back on it now, several years later, you realized it had been a sort of pseudo-test; to see if you’d meld into Javi’s advances or hold your own.

“No,” you’d told Javier firmly, watching as surprise look slowly crept into his features, “go fuck yourself and get your own coffee, old man.”

You’d never seen Steve laugh harder or Javier more in shock than that morning. To say you had proven yourself to both men was an understatement.

To say you ended up developing feelings for that stupid, dark haired, motherfucker was a gross understatement. Fallen in head first and through stuck in lust love with him was a much more accurate sentiment. Although you would never admit that to him or anyone else, let alone yourself.

Instead you settled on other things.

I love your cock. I love when you fuck me like this. I love when you use your mouth on me.

Yeah...it had quickly turned into that.

But Javier reciprocated in kind.

I love your pussy, just like you were made for me. I love when you get on your knees. I love how you look covered in my cum.

It was a lot of lust turned into love, but neither of you would ever admit that. Besides, it was never going to amount to anything; it was just some stress relief between two coworkers that understood each other more intimately than anyone else. No one knew the horrors of what either of you when through on a daily basis. But the two of you knew, and took solace in that fact.

You weren’t sure when the lines became so blurred, but you were almost positive it was around the same time that Javier made your relationship trysts an exclusive thing. No one else, just you and Javi. And damn. You liked that more than anything else.

But it wasn’t going to last forever; no, you knew that well from the start. What started out a one time thing that slowly stretched into more was never going behind that. You were sure of it, despite how good, how alive and protected and safe he made you feel, it was never going anywhere besides your dirty secret. Even the brightest stars burned out at some point.

Which is why when an agent from another department, a non-noteworthy average man, asked you out for dinner and drinks you said yes. It wasn’t an enthusiastic yes by any means, and the way your eyes had flicked to Javier before you agreed to go wasn’t lost on either of you. But he remained still and said nothing while you offered up a small yes.

Before the end of the day, you’d wandered over to his desk, ready to explain yourself, but he was quick to cut you off, not even looking up from his papers. You’re free to see anyone, Dulzura, he insisted in a gruff tone, have fun.

The part that hurt was the most was the fact that he didn’t bother to stop you as you walked out, even lingering for a moment at the door. The light bit of foolish hope you’d clung onto was for no reason after all. But at least you had an answer now. Javier was nothing more than a release.

»»————-　♡　————-««

All this nodding and smiling was going to give you a sore face and a headache, you realized. For a man that seemed so unassuming, he sure did love talking about himself. At one point when you drifted off from the conversation and let your mind wander, you’d looked across the crowded bar, and noticed him.

Of course he’d decided to come here to unwind after a long. Typical. Part of you momentarily wondered if he’d overheard you making your plans in order to come and watch you, but you weren’t going to flatter yourself that much. Chances, coincidence, mere happenstance. Besides that, it was a popular bar, and not an unsurprising place to find anyone on a Friday night.

But when you’d caught his eye, he offered you only a stiff little half smile, and you could visibly see the muscles in his neck stiffen as you raised your glass lightly in a mock salute. It didn’t a genius to figure out he was in a bad mood.

After some time, when you’d downed your greasy bar food, and finished off yet another drink, you still found yourself unable to handle your date. You couldn’t just sneak out, no that would be too obvious and awkward, especially come Monday when you were all back at the office. Instead, you settled on excusing yourself to use the restroom, hoping that if you spent long enough there he would take the hint.

Slipping off the stool, you almost dashed to the bathroom, making your way through the crowd and brushing against past Javier. He watched you bolt away with a curious expression, wondering what had caused the sudden escape. Internally sighing, he studied the man that was your date and frowned. You could have chosen anyone in the world, preferably him, but you’d chosen David of all the people. The man was a joke, a downright fool, and yet you’d said yes.

Fuck. But he could only blame himself. He’d never made a move, and every time he wanted to, especially after you started falling asleep in his arms, he talked himself out of it. It was just sex and companionship, he was sure of it. And now? Well, he been a fool and missed his chance. He narrowed his eyes at your date, wishing it was socially appropriate to go and beat the shit out of him. But he had reason to, and didn’t need to stir up anything. Instead, he decided to silently simmer, and told himself that he’d cut things off with you soon.

It was the right thing to do. Or so he thought.

He watched as you slowly flounced back and downed the rest of your drink, pretending to be engaged in conversation. He knew that face anywhere; the one you used when you feigned interest. Usually it made him laugh, but no? It caused a pit in the bottom of stomach.

But Javier was determined to stay, to keep an eye on you. Something in his gut was telling him that was something was off. And although he knew his instincts were clouded by his overwhelming feelings for you, he always knew that his feelings were rarely wrong.

So he stayed, long after his own companion had left and watched. Watched as you started acting more odd and more strange as you consumed another drink. It was a dramatic shift from your previous demeanor but your date was unphased. At one point, you swayed dramatically in your stool and almost fell to the floor.

Javier almost jumped to his feet as you straightened up and excused yourself again. He could see you mumbling something as the asshole man in question nodding, giving you a grin not unlike that of a wicked wolf.

Slowly stumbling through the crowd you knew something was off. Nothing felt right and the world seemed woozy and far away. You did however, recognize one thing...well, person. Javier. You wobbled over to him on unsure legs as he leaped to his feet, large, strong hands going to your waist to steady you.

“Javi,” your mouth felt heavy and dry and his name came off more than a whimper, a pathetic plea, as you met his dark eyes. His expression was somewhere between intense concern and furious anger as he helped to sick you down in the both, shoving a glass of water at you, “I don’t feel good. Feels weird...wrong. I-I don’t know what to do.”

“Look at me, Dulzura,” he gentle took your chin in his hand as he tried to study your face, but your head kept wanting to lull around. He gritted his teeth as he quickly put two and two together. A growl, primal and instinctive sounded deep in his throat as he look back at your date. Your date that was suddenly mysteriously disappeared.

The rat bastard had made a hasty escape as soon as you saw go to Javi.

He was a dead man.

“Javi,” you mumbled softly, “can you help? Please? I know you hate me now, but I dunno what to do.”

“I could never hate you,” he insisted as he held up the water for you to drink. You made quick work of downing it, feeling slightly less parched than before but still as miserable. Javi easily scooped you up in his arms, clutching you tightly to his chest as you mumbled incomprehensible things, “we’re going home. I’ve got you now.”

“’s okay Javi,” you managed to get out as you buried your head in his chest, “‘iloveyou.”

He stiffened at your words, unsure if you’d actually said those words, or if he was just a hopeful fool. Either way, that wasn’t his name concern at the moment. Getting you safe and into bed was top priority.

»»————-　♡　————-««

“J-Javi?” your voice cracked on his name as you realized just how dry your throat still was. Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you studied your surroundings, only realizing after a few moments that you were in his bedroom. A tall glass of water was on his bedside table, along with some pain killers. You took both without hesitation.

On cue, almost as if he could sense you were awake, a soft knock came on the door before he slowly opened the door. He let out a long exhale of relief when he realized you were awake and seemingly okay. Your eyes were wide and worried with your lips pulled into a small frown.

“How are you feeling?” he came in and sat at the foot of the bed, studying you with those eyes you swore you could see right into your soul. You shrugged as you set the glass down and tried not to cry.

“Alright I guess,” you sighed, feeling like an idiot, “I’m a fool. I can’t believe I let that happen. I don’t know I didn’t see it last night...I’m a fucking DEA Agent and I can’t tell when I’m getting drugged. I should be fired and sent right back home.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he reached over and gave your knee a gentle squeeze, “it could have happened to anyone. Please don’t blame yourself for it. That guy was a fucking asshole.”

“Javier,” you leaned forward and reached for his hand, taking it gingerly in yours as you studied it. His dominant hand, as well as the other was covered in cuts and bruises, all sorts of colors already and swollen. He made a small sound in the back of his throat as your mouth dropped open, “what happened....Javi. Oh, Javier, please tell me this isn’t what I think it is...”

“He had it coming,” was all he said as he held your hand in his, holding onto it protectively, “he’s lucky I didn’t kill him. I thought about it...”

“What if he tells-”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“Javier-”

“Listen,” he stopped you gently, “I had been thinking about doing it all night. From the moment I saw him with you. This just gave me a reason to do it.”

“What do you mean?” you bit your bottom lip as you met his eyes, the two of you watching each other with a silent intensity as you tried not to let your hopes get the better of you. Javier reached up and gently touched your cheek, brushing his fingers over your soft skin and stopping at your lips, “please don’t say something you don’t mean. Please.”

“Why do you think I won’t mean it?” he asked as you dropped his gaze, playing with your hands as you tried to keep your heart from beating out of your chest, “god, I’ve fucking meant it for years. I just can’t ever say it, but when I saw you with that piece of shit, I knew. I should have just-”

“I love you,” and just like that those three words the both of you had danced around for years were out in the air. And it had been so easy, so simple - effortless. But it didn’t stop the nerves, the fear of rejection, the fear of the unknown. You chanced a peek at him, watched as a look of sheer panic crossed his features before settling into the softest expression you’d ever seen.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a slight nod of head, laughing at the absurdity of the situation, “that’s what I’ve been trying to say.”

“Say it then, asshole,” you laughed lightly, feeling your heart settle as your normal rapport started to bubble through, “or you can kiss my ass.”

“I’m not opposed to that-”

“Javier,” you jokingly groaned as he pulled you forward, but just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips, “some things never change, huh?”

“Nope,” he laughed, “but it’s true.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

[mxvladdy]

Hi! just finished reading your Tumblr request on AO3 and I just looooove your writing ;; if it's not a problem I wanted to ask how you imagine that Lucifer, Mammon and Beel would react to a MC who is usually very quiet and not very expressive, impossible to embarrass or make nervous, to suddenly, one day manage to make her blush for the first time (Also, English is not my first language, so I hope this is okey) I wish you a lovely week ❤

A/N: This is adorable! Sorry for the slow turn around, I hope you enjoy!❤

Lucifer

Stoicism is something he normally finds very attractive in a woman. To be able to keep such a level of calm outlook during even times that might even shake him. He loves the idea of a power couple, and the way you hold yourself. You definitely make one.

It does grate him that he can’t fluster you like you do him, especially during your time together in private. He tries multiple ways to even just draw some color to your cheeks. Flowers in the classroom, hand written invitations to private dining establishments and venues, he even went to the human realm just to find some kind of familiar comfort to give to you. You love them all he knows but he wants, craves to see an uninhibited reaction from you. He’ll get it one day, his pride depends on it at this point.

Luck graces him one evening after a hellish work day. A fight in the school yard leading to property damage he had to do extra paper work for. The only saving grace of that was it wasn’t one of his brothers, this time. Only followed soon after by a report of yet another racket engineered by Mammon. Then, to top off a horrible day one of Belphie and Satan’s little “pranks” blew up half his office.

All his loose or unprotected paperwork, gone. Nothing but smoldering bits of ash. He was now more than ever thankful to have you by his side. Before he could get his hands on the two you stepped in shooing him away to deal with the other fires that needed to be put out while you handled his office.

Things got done, in record time for once. He was able to rewrite his notes for the next council meeting, but at the cost of your weekday dinner together. A pity, but he knew you understood. Trudging up to his room he looked forward to perhaps a few hours of sleep before the next crisis struck. Then he found you.

He chuckles to himself quietly leaning against his door frame. You had beaten him to his favorite resting roost. You sat on his favorite armchair, rolled up tight in his comforter. All he could see was a tuft of hair and the very tip of your nose. Beautiful as always, but he wanted to rest. Well-two birds, one stone and all…

He scoops you up envious of how deeply you could slumber and places you on his lap. Kicking off his shoes he sighs blissfully before resting his head back on worn leather.

Mini fic

You didn’t expect to see Lucifer tonight. Today has been the absolute definition of a shit show, on nights like these it wasn’t uncommon for you not to see him at all. You would normally place your bets on him being unconscious at his desk. Though, he couldn’t really do that tonight. You pat yourself on the back mentally knowing that he would be pleased with the work you and the brothers did cleaning up his office. While you couldn’t get them to apologize to Lucifer you at least got them to clean up what was salvageable in his study.

After a few hours of cleaning his office was back in working order and your feet were screaming for a break. Bidding the two miscreants farewell and making them promise to hold off on the pranks for at least a week you let your body lead you to Lucifer’s room. The room was how you left it that morning. Your slippers next to his by the door and your robe tossed haphazardly on his linen sheets. You make a beeline for the only piece of furniture Lucifer loved dearly. How many nights had you snuck in only to see him melting into the old chain. His long legs sprawled out and tangled in his foot rest, while his body sinks into the imprints he has left from years of use like a lover's embrace.

Yanking the thin comforter from his bed you curl into the divots with a yawn. Before you know it your eyes close and the crackling of the fireplace lulls you to sleep. You awake with a jolt, confused and disoriented for a moment before your sleepy brain catches up. You fell asleep alone on the soft leather but woke to something unyielding beneath you now.

Lucifer sits underneath you snoring softly. His arms rest around your blanketed body. His head tilts down over you, his nose tickling your hairline. Like always he sports a mild look of annoyance. His lips were drawn in a scowl, brows crinkling in displease. You could tell his jaw was tense even while he slept.

Freeing your arms from your cocoon you reach up from him moving to cup his twitching jaw. With practiced ease you began to message the pin joints. You smile to yourself moving down to his tense neck and shoulders. This had become a nightly ritual for you when you shared a bed. When you knew he was asleep you would start trying to work away some of his tension from the previous day. You swear in the morning that he looks better on the nights you get the chance to.

This was your little secret though. You couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing you did this. Not that you thought he would disapprove. Lucifer appreciated acts of service, but just the thought of him knowing made your whole body heat in a flush. You push the thoughts away focusing instead on the extremely tight muscles underneath his brow line. It amazed you that he didn’t have any wrinkles after all this.

So engrossed in your perusal of his features you didn’t notice him stirring till his warm palm traps your hand to his cheek. Before you realize it his lips push a firm kiss into the flesh of your palm. Scarlet eyes meet yours crinkling around the edges. They were warm and radiant. “You’re blushing.” His voice was deep and husky from what little sleep he got.

“What?” You stammer.

Lucifer leans in tapping his forehead on yours. He studies your wide eyes and pink face for a moment before cracking a smug grin. “I’ve never seen you flustered before. Your blush looks good on you.”

“You caught me off guard.” He nods, kissing the tip of your nose tenderly taking impish glee in your squirming.

“Good-I will strive to do so more often. I wish to see you as undone as you make me.”

Mammon

Stoic MC? Rare pair? Rare pair. Mammon wears his heart on his sleeve. Nothing about him is slick. From week one everyone knew he had it bad for you. He is so open with his affections whether he likes it or not. Unlike you.

Honestly, how were you always so controlled. Ain’t the dame supposed to be all blushy and giggly too? It-it makes him think he isn’t doing something right. Is he not treating you right? Were you unhappy?

So he goes to do what he does best. Scheme. There has to be someway to crack that stoic disposition of yours. He gets clingy-well clingier now. He starts springing random vacations on you. Expect to skip class whenever he thinks he won’t get skinned alive for it.

He’ll take you anywhere all his internet research tells him to. Black sand beaches, crowded boardwalks to see the lights, deserted hiking trails late in the evening to watch the fireflies. He is sure it will work. But nope, nada. You love every moment of it and show him with a soul searing kiss and sweet words of praise. But damn you if you aren’t always so cool about it.

He is about to throw in the towel when he finally gets what he wants. At work no less. It was completely by accident but he isn’t one to complain. Perhaps he should go to work more often.

Mini Fic

“Pucker up!” Mammon’s make-up artist orders, squeezing his cheeks between her thumb and forefinger. “And for Diavolo’s sake put your phone down.”

“Shove off Cazzin.” Mammon sputters around the sour tasting lip stain and plumper. His eyes still glued to his screen. His freshly done nails swiping at picture after picture of fancy hotels and spas. Just thinking about taking you a private spring got his blood boiling in the best ways.

“Woooow.” Cazz whistles through her fangs looking at his screen. “Who is the lucky lady you are trying to impress this time?

“Mammon bristles, shooting her a murderous glance. The smaller demon blanches, purple skin turning ashy with fear. Her eyes drop to the floor immediately in submission, a sincere apology falling from her lips. “My girlfriend.” He says finally after cooling down. “I’m-I’m trying to impress her or something.”

“Well, pretty sure with a price tag like that anyone would be impressed.” Mammon only grunts barely glancing at the excessive amount of zeros on the page. Any other girl he knew would be a blushing mess after getting a gift like this. Hells, even Cazz was eyeing the site with open envy and excitement. Yet, this wasn’t the first time he had done something like this with you. Every time he did all he got was a blisteringly radiant smile and kisses that probably could send him back to heaven if he didn’t have a life long ban there. Not that that was a bad thing...but he just wanted more.

“You would think so…” He trails off clicking his phone off to focus on the rest of his routine. No sooner had his hair and make-up artist finished then his director was stomping and shouting down the hall for him to get his ass on set. Grimacing Mammon slides off his seat stretching to spare himself a few more seconds of peace. He stops at the door taking one last look at his get up for this shoot.

Damn, he looks good. It was time for a new spring collection, but more importantly, his most popular season. The light spring colors always brought out his best features. The pastel cotton shirt they “fashionably” threw him in hung casually around his frame. Buttons “tastefully” undone to show the smooth planes of his freely waxed and oiled skin. The linen board shorts and finishing touch of leather sandals gave him the perfect beach vibe. At top dollar mind you.

Hmmm-perhaps he could borrow this outfit for your next beach outing.

Unable to tone out his bosses shouting anymore Mammon makes his way to set. He thinks hard on what else he can go or take you to impress you, ignoring the poking and prodding of his camera men and set designers. His partners today, two incubus twins stood sourly next to him. They had been at this for hours and even he was ready for a break from the sweltering heat of the lights.

“Alright! Alright!” The director broke an hour later tired of the twins whining. He throws his hands in the air in exasperation. “We’ll break for an hour for lunch- lost the light as is.” He huffs stumping off for a smoke break.

“Finally,” Mammon sighs from his pose on the ground. “Think I got sand in my ass.” He gets up from the ground grimacing as he tries to brush the grit off his legs. “Shit starts to burn when they get hot.” One of the twins nods looking down at their own arms. Tiny burn marks showing on their fair skin, they will heal by the time the shoot resumes, doesn’t mean they will be happy about it.

“Want to grab lunch?” The twins ask tossing him a towel to blot at his sweating brow. “New food truck is coming in today.” Mammon shakes his head. You had packed him something to eat this morning and he kind of wanted to enjoy it in peace for once.

Waving the two off he hurries back to his room already salivating at whatever tasty food you got him. Halfway to the door he stops, the fine hairs on his neck standing up. Someone was in his dressing room. Devil’s please don’t let it be another rabid fan. He pleads before creeping forward to check. Whoever it was left the door ajar, peaking in he stares enraptured.

When did you get here? It wasn’t abnormal for you to just drop by while he was working, but you usually waited for him on set behind the cameras. You sit humming to yourself reading something on your lap, feet kicking out innocently while you wait for him. Flipping a page he gets a glimpse of what you’re reading. His feathers ruffle in satisfaction. He had plans on showing you these shots before their release date. They still needed approval from his director but he knew they were great. You flip through shot after shot humming or nodding at some. One shot makes you stop fully, eyes growing wide.

Mammon snorts to himself, knowing exactly which photo you stopped on. The next issue was focusing on “Elegance in the work space”, whatever that means. His designer for the projects went a little overboard with the cuts and designs of the business suites he was to model. The sketches and drafts she had thrust at him had made his head spin. They were all amazing in his opinion, but one had been killer, everyone had agreed on that. If he didn’t know any better he was certain that it would put him on the cover. By the way you were looking at it, he was hoping it would.

That suit really complimented all of his features. It was form fitting accenting his slim waist but hid the slight sloping of his shoulders. The gold of the threading of his vest was done up in soft floral patterns that popped against the dark navy blue of the suit's fabric. The dark blue really brought out the lightness of his eyes. The look was topped off with a bright yellow silk pocket square, polished leather wingtips and gold cufflinks. He was about to interrupt you when he saw it, that one thing he wanted more than anything.

The pink starts at your ears swiping across the bridge of your nose before blooming on your round cheeks. It was breathtaking. Thinking he was being sneaky, Mammon whips out his phone for a quick picture, no one would believe him unless he had solid evidence. But the flash gives him away.

“Mammon!” You jump caught, hands flying to cover your warm face.

“Oi! None of that!” Mammon moves quickly snatching your hands away from your face beaming. “I’ve been waiting for ages to see this face on ya, an’ all it took was a picture of me?”

“You- you clean up really nicely, Mammon.” His hearts flutter at your soft admission.

“Huh,” Mammon scratches his neck, feeling his own blush coming forth. “Well- I mean I could do that more often, so long as you keep looking at me like this when I do.” He picks up the stack of photos from the floor where you dropped them in surprise. “Ya know- I still got that suit.”

Your face turns molten- oh he was going to have a field day with this.

Beelzebub

Doesn’t even notice at first. He is kind of the same way with expressing himself too- unless food is involved. So if you are content then he is content, so who cares if you don’t show it on your face?

Well- he didn’t care, until Belphie brought it up. His twin didn’t mean anything by it; he knew that, but it made him wonder. He trusts you when you say you are happy, you have no reason to lie to him. But date nights, game nights, and family dinners you were always so impassive.

It makes him wonder, not enough to ask you though. Truthfully, he is a little embarrassed that he can’t read you as you do him. He won’t force it like his brothers might. He is patient and hopes one day it will just come naturally like it does for him around you.

Mini Fic

Beel watches you over his lunch. You two were silent as you ate, but that was to be expected on days like these. The school cafe was packed with students all jockeying to get a place in line for today’s special. He had gotten there early for the both of you to gap a few of the specials and sides before they were gone. “Are you ok?” He puts his fork down leaning in close to speak to you across the small table. It creaks dangerously under the weight of his elbows on it. You look up from your tea mug. He smiles at your perpetually mild expression, your eyes were hard but your lips and brows were relaxed giving away nothing.

“Of course.” You smile up at him, face smooth and controlled. “Just excited about tonight.”

Hmph, could have fooled him. Beel leans back, studying you intently. He hopes you were as excited as he was for tonight. A new arcade had opened on the edge of town last week and he thought it would be a great date night for the two of you. He had expressed to you on several occasions how he was looking forward to the roller rink and the hoop games. You seemed eager, giving him a closed lip grin every time he brought it up. “Me too.” Beel says finally turning back to his food. “Think we will win any prizes?”

You snort dismissively. “Us? The dream team? I would be surprised if we didn’t win something. Have you seen the plushies?” You pull out your phone and show him their Devilgram. “I want to try and get the hydra one…” You prattle on and scroll through all the cute prizes on their site. He nods along taking a mental note of all the ones that you pointed at, determined to get each and every one for you.

School goes by quickly, far too quickly for him. Each tick of the clock caught him by surprise, jacking his nerves up more and more. It wasn’t like it was his first date with you, but it never stopped the butterflies from starting in his stomach. After school he changes quickly and waits for you by your bedroom door. He fiddles with the zipper of his jacket until you finally open your door.

“Ready?” The smile you throw up at him is breathtaking. “Hope you don’t mind my get up. You mentioned a roller ring so I figured something sporty and functional would be appropriate.” You kick out a leg waving a hand over your bright sport leggings.

Beel chuckles offering you his large hand. “You look adorable as always.”

Being with you was as easy as breathing to him now. After all your time together in the house getting to know you you became one of his closest friends, even before you started dating. You shared many of his interests and wasn’t afraid to argue your point if you saw fit. You fill the train ride to the arcade with idle chatter, goofy selfies to send to his siblings, and annoying the other passengers with your ill-contained chuckles.

The place itself was packed but well spread out to handle the massive throngs of demons and beasts coming for drinks and a good time. “Come on!” You shout over the other very drunk and very loud customers tugging at his sleeve. “Let’s get some coins and find an empty station.” He lets you lead. You take full advantage of his impressive frame to part the crowds around you as you hunt for a free spot. “See anything?”

Beel peers over the heads of most of the demons and looks out. In the far corner sat a few jump rope games that were free. “Stay close.” He murmurs in your ear wrapping a protective arm your shoulders so you wouldn’t be swept away in the flow of the crowd. The games were...hard. Mentally Beel kicks himself. Of course an arcade in the Devildom wouldn’t be geared for humans. They were built for demons' fast reflexes and inhuman strength. You were a good sport about it though, cheering him on when the games began to move too fast for your senses. If a game broke in his zeal to get you tickets, well you were both fast walkers.

“Think we have enough?” Beelzebub asks hours later around a popsicle. His jacket pockets bulge with multicolored tickets screaming to be spent.

You hum around a scoop of ice cream. “Possibly-” Your eyes flick to the prize booth. “And extra, you want a plushie too?” He shrugs. No doubt the moment it got into his room Belphie will steal it to add to his horde.

You end up getting your stuffed hydra and a giant fuzzy minotaur to keep it “company”. You clutch them close to your chest, seemingly happy with your bounties. After that you spend a bit at the roller ring before you finally had to call it a night. Exhausted you lag behind Beel as you make your way back to the train station, feet dragging with each step.

Wordlessly, Beel stops just in front of you. “Here,” He squats, offering you his back, arms stretched out behind him. “I can take us the rest of the way to the stop.” He feels you hesitate for a moment before climbing on to his back.

“Thank you.” He thinks nothing of how soft your voice was, just barely a tickle at the base of his neck. Beel treks one once you are secure, stuffing his hands in his pockets to lock you in place. The rest of the walk was quiet but he didn’t mind it, your warm body and soft breathing in his ear was a comfort.

He stops at the benches with a few minutes to spare before your train. “We are here. Do you want-” He gasps quietly, cutting himself off before he could accidentally wake you. You sleep on unperturbed by his voice. Your hold on around his neck was tight, your head buried in his neck.

It seems only when you're sleeping do you let your guard down. A blush sweeps across your face, your lips pulled up into a serene smile. You looked-happy. Happy in a way he never saw before. He won’t say anything about it, he decides. He’ll cherish this tiny expression all the same. Perhaps one day he’ll see when you're awake too.

[foli-vora]

worlds collide

A/N: Hi, I’m in my feels tonight so have some angst! (That gif is breaking my fucking heart.)

Pairing: Din Djarin/gn!reader

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: violence, blood, death

+++

Din didn’t know how or when it happened. All he knew was that it did happen. He awoke, however long after the initial blast, in a startle, hand shooting to the beskar covering his face as he pushed himself into a sitting position. People were screaming, running erratic paths through the fire and debris. Stomach lodged firmly in his throat, he looks to his side where he expects to find the Child, his child, tucked up safe in the sack he had fashioned from old pieces of scrap material he found on the Crest.

He whips around in alarm when he finds nothing but ruins. Where was the kid? Why wasn’t he here? Dust coats the gloves covering his hands as he pushes through the remnants of fallen buildings around him, showing away piece after piece of rubble, desperation clawing away at his insides as he continuously comes up empty.

Where was the kid? The kid. Where was the kid?

And then a memory hits him.

Your smile. Not the polite half smiles you would offer others, mere strangers passing by on the streets, no. This smile was all his. The smile that he swears brings the stars he travels through to your eyes. The smile that is seared into his mind, that’s painted across his eyelids every time he finds a small amount of time to rest.

You grin up at him and make a sly little comment about his stiff armour digging into the soft sack carrying the sleeping baby, gently lifting it from across his body and hanging it upon your own, hand automatically rubbing soothing circles over the little lump through the coarse material.

“I told you he wouldn’t wake,” you shoot him a smirk, walking further ahead to admire the various materials and trinkets laid across tables throughout the market.

He pauses, coming to a stop between the bustling patrons, taking a moment to watch you. Watch the way you tread between the buyers, the way your hand automatically cradles the sack protectively if someone pushes too close, the way your eyes soak up each new object and entity you encounter with eager, curious eyes.

You notice the absence of his intimidating presence only a few steps ahead and turn to him questioningly. Tilting your head, you smile inquisitively, taking a small moment of your own to admire him and the incredible gleam of his armour against the bright backdrop of colourful banners and busying shoppers.

Peace.

That’s what he had felt in that moment. And though you had never seen him without the heavy helmet covering his face, he knew you saw him. In more than the physical sense. But where did it go wrong? When did the peace meet its end? When did it melt into the overwhelming sense of loss he feels now?

Your eyes flicker to something over his shoulder, brows pinching together. The immediate sense of dread that crashes over him the second your eyes widen in fear has him moving instantly, not caring about what’s there, what you’re seeing – just filled with the drowning need to reach you, to reach the child, to protect.

Had you called for him? In his current state, he doesn’t recall. The explosion had been so loud. He knew he had called for you – your name ripping from his modulator with a blinding urgency that left his throat feeling raw and then… nothing.

Frantic, he continues to push his way around, ignoring the people that pull on his armour-clad arms and beg for his aid. He doesn’t have time. He refuses to help them while you and the Child are missing. He won’t help a soul until he knows where you are, knows that you’re both unharmed, that you’re both safe.

He’s not sure what sound falls from his lips when he catches sight of your boots sticking out from beneath a piece of fallen wall. The breath gets sucked from his lungs, bile rises in his throat, and then he’s running, not caring about who he shoves down along the way – he just needs to get to you.

The adrenaline pulsing through his system has him hefting the piece of rubble off of you and then he’s on his knees, gloved hands gently, urgently, pushing at your shoulder until you’re on your back. He can’t see you, not the real you. Dust and blood cake your face and no matter how hard he scrubs along your skin; he can’t find you.

His hands follow along your frame, feeling along the side of your body and then… there he is. The Child chirps sadly, blinking dust from his wide eyes, and wiggles from the soiled sack, stumbling onto unsteady legs. He turns to look at you, large ears dropping in sorrow at the sight of your battered body.

“I know, kid. They’re gonna be fine.”

You were going to be fine, because there was no other option. You’d have a bump on the head, complain about it for a few days, get on his nerves, and then be fine. Healed. Alive.

He swears his heart jumps a beat when your face pinches, features contorting in discomfort. He hates knowing you’re in pain, but he’d take it. Quite happily. At least that meant you were still here, still with him. He waits, but your eyes don’t open and he gets impatient. He taps your cheek once, twice, again just a little bit harder.

Why aren’t you waking up?

He shakes you; hand locked firmly onto your shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. The desperation that’s leaking into his voice starts to intensify the longer your lashes stay against the skin of your cheeks. Come on. You’re alright. You’re alright. Wake up –

And then finally – Stars, finally – your eyes flutter. The two suns hovering in the sky blind you, and you lift a heavy hand with a groan to cover your face. Relief floods him in an overwhelming wave and he crumbles over your body like he’s just ran nonstop for miles. You’re okay. You’re fine, everything’s fine.

His hands are everywhere when you eventually sit up – cradling your ribs, supporting your shoulders, a gloved palm against your cheek as you blink blearily at the scene around you. What happened? You don’t have the strength to ask. His grip is tight as he holds your hands, gently pulling you to stand. He doesn’t move away once you’re on your feet and it’s a good thing, too – you tremble, head melting into a vicious spin, and your legs give out from under you.

He has you in his arms before you’re even halfway to the ground.

“I’ve got you.” Always.

He cradles you the entire hike back to the Crest, the Child cuddled up to your chest as he coos gently at you, keeping you awake and as alert as possible. Din doesn’t stop moving, powered purely by the desperation to get you back to the ship, back home, somewhere safe. He kicks blankets across the cold grated floor and delicately lies you down, careful not to jostle you too much.

Your face puckers in agony, but soon you relax with a soft exhale, watching him through tired eyes as he moves the kid to his hammock before rushing back to your side. The gloves come off in an urgent tug and soon you’re rewarded with the heat of his fingertips trailing across your skin. His touch disappears, and you wish you could voice your protest, wish you could beg him to put them back.

You watch as tanned hands reach and grasp at the helmet, pulling it up and off and then – oh. Din blinks down at you with wide brown eyes, assessing every bit of damage he could see without his visor hindering his view. A scratch here, a scrape there – nothing bacta won’t fix. You’re fine. Everything’s fine. His eyes fall back to yours, and he half smiles, somewhat shyly, as you study his previously secret features.

Beautiful.

Your hand moves, fingers desperate to feel the scruff covering his jawline, but it falls short and you try to frown in frustration but lack the strength to contort your features. His own hand shoots up and helps yours on its journey, and soon you can feel it – scratchy against the skin of your palm.

His other hand is warm across your forehead and you smile weakly at the look of pure adoration on his face, his dark eyes flicking over your features. He had no regrets removing his helmet. He would have removed it in front of you one day, anyway.

“I’ll get you some water, cyar’ika.” He murmurs, bending to press a soft kiss to your forehead. You weakly move your head ever so slightly, greedily chasing his lips with your own, desperate to feel them just once, and your heart bursts as he grins, eyes crinkling and dimple appearing. What a sight. He lets his nose trail softly against yours before moving to your lips. His kiss was everything you had dreamed – tender, loving… and it chased away the chill that seemed to have taken a hold of your body, even if just for a few seconds.

“D-Din –” Why is it so hard to speak? You feel so weak. You want to tell him so much. He needs to know what he means to you. You’ve never been able to say the words and now you’re filled with regret. But surely, he knows. He must. You need to thank him for… for everything. For showing you the stars, for making you believe in yourself, for showing you that it’s okay to stand your ground when someone tells you to move. Maker, you need to speak. He needs to know. “Din,”

He hushes you lightly, dancing his warm fingers across your jaw affectionately. “Save your strength, cyare.”

Your eyes well as you watch him stand and leave. No, stay. Stay, please. He tries to be quick as he retrieves you a drink, but the water pressure on the Crest is questionable to say the least. He also fills a small bowl to start cleaning your skin of the filth that cakes it, desperate to see the horror of the day washed free from your skin. He returns after a short while, expertly juggling the many bits and pieces in his arms, and stops short of the makeshift bed.

You’re still. Completely unmoving. Your chest no longer moves, fighting for gasps of air. Your eyes were open, pointed to where he had disappeared into the fresher, but they lacked life. They’re vacant, hollow. They stare right through him. He all but drops everything in his arms, falling right beside you.

Swallowing around the bitter taste in his mouth, he tries to speak. “C-Cyare?”

His hands move to your face, and he recoils at the chill of your skin. Heat, you need heat. His thumbs rub across your cheeks, desperate to work some sort of friction against your skin. He wills your eyes to focus, to gaze back into his. Breathe. Maker, please, breathe.

“Cyar’ika, I’m here.” He moves closer, hands darting over your body, indecisive of where to touch, where to hold you. No. You’re fine. You’re fine. He feels the cracks start to form, his world quickly falling apart in his hands. “I’m here. Please, cyare – I’m here.”

Yes, he is… but you’re not.

+

Tags: @anu-simps @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @withasideofmeg​ @you-got-me-starry-eyed​

[doctoranon]

I Must Be Dreaming

Written for the MGI Civil war for Team Jason Supremacy

TW: Angst, Major character death, swearing

~~~~~

“Come on, baby. We’re going to be fine.” Jason mumbled into Marinette's dirty matted hair, desperation colouring his tone. “Gonna get us out of here, we’ll be fine.” he huddled close to the semi conscious woman, being careful as possible to not disturb any of the rubble that trapped them where they were.

They’d underestimated how desperate the Joker was this time, underestimated how many bombs were placed and now they were paying the price, he and Marinette were trapped under fuck knows how much rubble with sketchy comm links and no way of knowing quite how far off a rescue would be.

They had at least garnered that one was underway through the static of the comms, that they’d called in the big guns with Supes and the Flash to help with getting to them quicker. Still, he wasn’t sure that- no, no of course they’d both make it. Their wedding was next month and then they were starting their life together. The one they’d always dreamed of. But looking at the flow of blood from Mari’s head wound his heart kept shooting straight to his throat. Logically he knew that head wounds bleed a lot and he was trying to stem the flow with a ripped piece of his uniform. But he’d been a vigilante for more than half his life at this point, and he’d seen-

Shaking the thought from his head roughly, he placed a kiss on Marinette's hair line, smoothing it out of her face as she watched him in a daze, mumbling incoherently every now and then. Everytime she did so his heart calmed a little. Consciousness was good. As long as she kept awake and stayed with him they’d both be fine.

“Jay-” his attention diverted quickly to Marinette and he smiled down at her, tears pricking at his eyes.

“Hey, Baby.” he warbled, dropping a kiss to her lips. “You’ve scared me.” he admitted, feeling his shoulders relax slightly. Help was coming. Mari was awake.

“‘M not-'” the words were slurred and seemed to take all of her energy and concentration to push past her lips. Taking a small breath, she let go of a longer one before uttering “‘M Tired.”

“I know baby, but you can’t fall asleep right now. You know that.” he explained, moving his free hand to his comm and trying to get someone's attention, growling angrily when all that could be heard was a static reply. He knew Tim was trying to reply, but he didn’t know what he was saying, and wasn't even sure if Tim was getting his own messages.

Wincing when he bit his already split lip, Jason sighed and kept a watch on Marinette, before he started to feel a shift in the rubble surrounding them. Straightening himself as much as he could he gave a yell. If it was Supes then he probably already knew exactly where they were, but anyone else might have needed the sound to redirect them.

As more and more pieces of rubble started to shift, he bent over Mari, protecting her from as much debri as possible. “See, toldja we’d get out of this, didn’t I?” he smirked down at her, before noticing her closed eyes and shallow breaths.

Immediately becoming panicked, he patted at her cheek. “Hey! No! No, you stay with me for a little longer Baby. They’ve almost got us.” he insisted. Before shouting at whoever it was to hurry it the fuck up.

Patches of light started to come in and he could hear the others now, he wasted no time to relay Marinette's condition to them and their efforts seemed to double. But, as Marinette liked to remind him, Too much of a good thing can sometimes be bad. The universe balances itself out and all that jazz.

One wrong movement of the concrete had a rather large piece dislodge. Jason's position protecting Marinette had put him directly in its path and with a solid crack hit him in the back of the head, whiting out his vision with pain. Ears ringing he tried to shake it off and check on Marinette, but that only served to make him dizzy as fuck and spots dace across his quickly dimming vision.

The last thing he saw was a silhouette against a bright light where a large body sized gap now was in the rubble they’d been trapped in. Then his vision went black and he was swept into unconsciousness.

~~~

Feelings came back to him slowly and consciousness felt just beyond his grasp, but through sheer will he opened his eyes to look around. He was in a med bed in the bat cave. So at least that meant they were out, but Marinette was nowhere in his sight and he needed to make sure she was okay.

Struggling to sit up, Jason had already started to get out of bed when Dick rounded the corner and rushed to his side.

“Get back in bed!” he was scolded, as Dick tried to stop him from getting up, and failing miserably. Jason was going to find his Fiance and no one was stopping him.

“Not till I’ve seen Mari.”

“Well that’s not happening.” he was told, as Dick called for the others not far out of hearing range. “You’re getting back in that bed.”

“Get the fuck out of my way, Dick. I’m seeing Mari.” Jason insisted, trying to push his brother away from him as he staggered under his own weight for a moment. Reinforcements arrived under the guise of Tim, Chloe and Alfred and he groaned internally before noticing the red rimmed eyes the blonde was sporting and his heart froze.

Doubling his efforts, he pushed Dick away successfully this time. “Where is she, Tim?” His tone was frantic as he started on his way past his other brother. “Where the fuck is Marinette.” her name brought a whimper from the blonde and Jason's frantic eyes zeroed in on her. “Please.” he begged, refusing to believe the worst.

When no one moved or tried to answer his question he growled angrily, moving to push past them again before being stopped by both Dick and Tim.

“Jay, please, get back in bed. We’ll explain-”

“NO!” Jason struggled against the two former robins, his eyes beginning to drake on a greener hue. “Let me see Marinette!”

Feeling a presence come up from behind him, he felt rather than saw as something pricked his skin.

“I’m afraid, Master Jason, you need to calm down.” came the guilt laced tone of the Wayne butler. Something Jason felt triple his anxiety before the sedative began to kick in and his weight was caught by Tim and Dick.

“Mari-” he mumbled, before unconsciousness took him over again.

~~~~

The next time he was aware, he felt a hand in his own and a soft humming coming from his left. A familiar humming. A beautiful humming that belonged to-

 “Marinette.” he mumbled, opening his eyes and searching for her visage, smiling sleepily at her when he saw her sitting in a chair next to the bed. Bandages wrapped around her head.

“Hey, Sleepy head. It’s about time you woke up.” she smiled, squeezing his hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “You gave everyone a scare earlier.”

“You scared me. You weren’t here when I woke up- I thought-” he choked but he grinned at her through his tears. Pulling their hands to him and returning the kiss on the back of her hand. “I was worried, beautiful.”

Chuckling at him, she booped his nose with a scrunched up grinning face; A scrunched up, grinning alive face. “I’m not leaving you that easily.” she comforted, before letting go of his hand and waving her engagement ring in his face. “Besides, you put a ring on it. I’m yours. Forever.” she teased him, gaining a chuckle from him as he relaxed back into the pillows.

“If Dick-head had just old me you were okay-”

“Hey, don't blame your brother for your half cocked plans and jumping to conclusions!” she scolded him, a grin still fixed to her face. “You need to wake up when i'm here next time.”

Chuckling Jason felt at peace, knowing they were both okay. “Or you could not scare me in the first place”

Resting his eyes, he breathed a sigh of relief, letting go of all residual tension he had been holding onto. “So, any chance you’re going to show me that dress before the wedding now?” he teased, opening his eyes and over acting a pathetic look on his face. “Please?”

“Never. The day I walk up the aisle or not at all.”

“I had to try.”

Both chuckling at their antics, Marinette moved to cuddle up on the bed with him. “I can’t wait until the day after the wedding.” She told him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “When I wake up as Mrs Jason Todd.”

“I can’t wait for that either.” he beamed, kissing her sweetly and pulling back to stare into her eyes. “For that day, and every day afterwards.”

~~~~

Over the next few weeks, Jason felt like he was walking through a dream. The days felt like they moved slowly and quickly all at once. They both healed up and anticipation grew as the big day was suddenly upon them, and he was there, standing at the bottom of the aisle waiting for his soon to be wife to join him. 

As the song he didn’t even remember picking played, the most beautiful woman in the world walked towards him. Ready to commit her love and life to him forever. Something finally all his. Something permanent.

Dick leaned over his shoulder and nudged him with a wide grin. “You look mesmerised, Little Wing.” he whispered, the proudest grin Jason had ever seen aimed at him.

“I feel like I'm dreaming.”

Dick chuckled lightly as he faced the front again, eyes on the procession. “Then you better wake up, Jay. Because she's nearly here.”

As Marinette reached him at the altar, he reached for her hands, pulling her towards him and stealing a small kiss.

“Hey, save it for the end.” Tim, who was officiating at the behest of his brother teased them, as the seemingly faceless congregation chuckled in the background.

“I couldn’t help myself.” Jason laughed, feeling so full of love and life. Everything was perfect. Just like he and Marinette had dreamed.

Clapping his hands together with a bright and wide grin, Tim turned to face the audience. “Welcome, to the wedding of my Big brother, Jason Todd, and the girl I introduced him too, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

“Both the Bride and Groom have written their own vows and Marinette won the coin flip to go first.” Tim joked, before gesturing to the vision in white.

“Jason, the day we met, I knew you’d be a pain in my ass.” she teased, gaining a chuckle and ‘hear, hear’ from the people present, himself included. “And you are,” she added to a few more chuckles, as tears formed in both their eyes. “The day you first kissed me, I knew forever was what I wanted from you.” she grinned at him, tears falling down her cheeks, and he moved his hand to wipe them away.

“And the day I died, I knew I would leave you heartbroken.” Jason froze, the smile was still plastered on her face, and looking at Tim showed the same, as if Marinette had said nothing wrong at all.

“Wait, what?” His brow furrowed and heart starting to beat quickly in his chest. “I don't understand, Mari?”

“You need to wake up, Jason,” Tim was speaking now, the happy smile still plastered on his face as if he wasn’t breaking Jason's entire world.

“No. No I don't. We’re getting married,” Jason said frantically, looking around him at the guests and feeling a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.

“Please, Little wing. Wake up.”

The world both fizzled out to black, the image of Marinette in her wedding dress fading quickly, and also gained a more realistic feeling behind closed eyelids.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jason felt his lips tremble as he turned his head and slowly opened his eyes to his brother sitting next to him in a med bed in the bat cave.

His brother met his eyes, red rimmed and full of pain.

“She’s gone, isn’t she?”

The pause was a hundred years and no time at all.

“I- Yeah, Little wing. She’s gone.”

He closed his eyes again and turned to face the ceiling, tears spilling from under his eyelids.

“We were getting married.”

“I know.” was the choked reply, and he could hear the pain in Dicks voice, but he couldn’t feel anything over the rush of absolute nothing he felt.

“I love her so much, Dick.” he whispered, teeth clenching as he began to cry in earnest. Breathing felt strange, the whoosh of in and out feeling nothing like it should, and two arms encircled him as a low keening noise escaped from behind his still clenched teeth.

He was supposed to be stuck with her, forever. And as the thought of forever filled his mind, a forever now not including Marinette; Jason felt something in his chest shatter so explosively he knew he’d never find all the pieces again.

[lobakmerahs]

Morning Breeze

Summary: A morning routine that Levi and reader go through before they start off their day. 

Warning: none, except for some spelling or grammatical errors if I may put some.

A/N: This is my very very very first one shot that I have ever written in my entire existence in this world lol, this scene that I wrote had been in my head for days so I had to pour it out, not that I’m complaining though. Oh and I suck at giving title, welpp sorry hehe. Whoever stumble upon this post, I hope you enjoy reading it and I apologize if it is too boring or detailed. Thank you, for reading anyway :)

You are laying on the bed while facing the window as you watch the sky starts to change colour and the sun starts to rise slowly, having the sunshine creeping through the window and travelling through the translucent curtain of your bedroom. The atmosphere is so calming, it fills your heart with calmness.

You turn your body around slowly and carefully not to wake up your bedmate that has his muscular arm hugging your waist. You wish your little shiftment won’t wake him up since you know how hard it was for him to get such a decent sleep. As you fully faced him, you indulge into his sleeping features, his steady breathing and his peaceful sleeping face. He looks so calm in his sleep and you sincerely pray in your heart that his insomnia would slowly be recovered because there is nothing else that you wish for him except his well-being.

What felt like a few peaceful moments, probably sensing that someone is staring at him or probably due to the room that has gotten brighter from the sunshine, Levi slowly opens his eyes, to land his soft gaze at you, breaks a lazy smile before pulling you tighter to his warm sturdy body and closes back his eyes. You return the hug gratefully and inhale his body scent that smells just as fresh as the morning breeze, you feel your heartbeat synchronizes with his and feel beyond happy to be able to just wake up in the morning to him being alive, well and completely yours.

Not long after the hug, you move back a bit, creating a distance between the both of you and continue staring at him in awe. Presumably feeling a bit embarassed with your stupidly adorable stare, he moves his hand that was on your waist, to your eyes as an attempt to cover them from keep staring at him. You giggled and took his hand to place them back to your waist. You then bury your hand into his hair. His dark hair was thick and soft, you played with it and tucked some of his long strands behind his ear. Then, you moved your fingers to his wide forehead, thumbs rubbing circle on his forehead which made Levi hums in relaxation, for someone who is as touch starved as Levi, having you to touch him like that feels so good that he is almost sure that he’s still dreaming. Slowly, you drive your pointing fingers to his long and sleek eyebrows that frame his eyes perfectly.

You recalled how his eyebrows were always either furrowed with worries or twitched with annoyance when he was awake. From the eyebrows, you move your finger to touch his eyelids carefully. Under those eyelids laid a pair of eyes that was always stare intensely at people which made those who was in his sight shivered uncomfortably, but you are always exceptional from it, always receiving a look that shines with care. Moving on from the eyelids, your finger travels to his short but compact eyelashes and to his dark circles under his eyes. You notice that Levi's dark circles are not as prominent as they were before he declared you his, probably effected by your sleepyhead that he was able to get more sleep when he was with you than he ever was in his entire life. Meanwhile, Levi stays quiet and calm as if he is sinking into your smooth touches on his face, feeling grateful with how you appreciated his facial features. Gently, you laid your hand on his cheek, his skin was just as soft as silk as you rubbed circles on it in a loving manner. Then, you traced his sharp jawline using your pointing and middle finger, his jawline was one of your favorite spots on his face for you  to kiss.

“Ouch,” you suddenly said and looked at your two fingers with furrowed eyebrows as if you were really in pain. Your voice made Levi’s eyes shot opened and you could see his eyes were gleamed with worries. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Your jawline is so sharp....... It cuts my fingers.” You said slowly and showed him your fingers that were totally fine and perfect, you spoiled little bratty brat. You couldn’t tell whether he wanted to smile at you or glare at you both for the same reasons. Yet he chooses to take your fingers to his lips, kisses them and places them back on his jawline expecting you to continue your little morning adventure on his face which you certainly do. Levi decides to keep his eyes opened on you to drink in his morning view as his heart swells with love and affection for you. Your long, thick and wavy hair with just the perfect amount of mess from your sleep spreads across your pillow, your face is the definition of serenity and what boosts his pride even more is how focused you are on him as you are appreciating every single detail and every inch of his face much to his pleasure.

You move you fingers slowly, touching his jawline and move to his sharp chin. You are holding his chin with your thumb and pointing finger, while caressing it with your thumb. From there, you gently move your thumbs upwards, to rest it on his lips. His lips are plump, soft and in the perfect shade that contribute to his masculine features. His lips though rarely crack a smile, yet still are able to warm your heart with his love through his soft kisses as well as his comforting words that are delivered in his deep husky voice. Then you use your pointing finger to run it along his pointed nose, to both sides of his nose and stopped at his nose bridge. As you leave feathery touches on his nose, you remembered how he always buries his nose into your hair to inhale the smell of your hair, one of his favorite scents as he always claims.

You held his nose with your thumb and pointing finger, then.....

"BloOop bLoOopP bloOoOopPp," you make that weird sound while pinching and releasing his nose alternatively with your two fingers before you crack a small giggle and look at Levi to find his reaction.

Levi smiles helplessly at you before lets out a small, deep chuckle using his husky yet sexy morning voice that successfully brought butterflies to your stomach.

"Weird brat." He finally spoke.

"Your weird brat." You corrected him.

"Hell yeah. My weird brat, mine, forever."

~🌞

You were tucking your shirt into your pants while standing in front of a long mirror when you saw Levi was buttoning his grey crisp shirt.

"Levi, wait---". You suddenly said which caused him to stop and looked at you in confusion, you were two buttons late anyway. So you walked towards him, hands reaching to his half exposed body, showing off his sturdy front since you stopped him from buttoning his shirt.

"Did you forget...? I want to do it." You firmly said and grabbed his shirt to continue sealing his body while he rested his chin on your head. It is your favorite routine among many others, to help each other getting ready every morning because both of you are always busy and the moments before you both start to work are always precious and they are always utilized to the maximum. Once done, you grab his wrist and walk to the chest drawer that is located beside the mirror, you take his cravat and carefully tie it on his neck just the way he likes it. Levi obliges obediently and watches attentively as you work your fingers on his cravat while he twirles his fingers to your long strands. As you are done with his cravat, you help him putting on the leather strap of his ODM gear as well as his light brown cropped jacket that proudly displayed the Wings of Freedom.

Once Levi has done getting ready with his uniform thanks a lot to your loving help, he feels like it is his turn to return the favor. He notices that you are fully dressed now, in your crisp shirt, same type like his but in your favorite colour, black trousers and knee high boot, but you haven't worn your cropped jacket and haven't done your hair as it is still covering half your clothed body. So he takes the hair comb that was on top of the chest drawer and grabs your wrist to stand in front of the mirror while he stands behind you. Then, he starts to comb your hair as gently as his can to avoid causing you pain from your tangled hair.

"Let me do your hair today, Y/N." He says as he brushes your hair. You always style your hair in a hairbun since one, it was your favorite hair style, two, it was easy and fast but only if you'd practiced enough though, and three, because it would keep your hair away from your face so it wouldn't disturb you from your work. But, Levi has never actually done it himself although he enjoys watching you with your hair routine. 

"Levi, are you sure? You've never done it before though." You ask while feeling partially worried about the outcome and partially grateful for his simple gesture of showing affection also knowing how he loved your hair just as much as you did. 

"Tch, nothing to worry about. I've seen you done it countless time and it looks pretty easy to me." You smile upon hearing his answer and your smile grows wider since you can tell that it won't be the perfect hairbun that you always style just from the feeling of Levi's tough hands twirling your hair to the way he brings it to your head. Nevertheless, you wait patiently for the result. You felt hair pins being inserted into your hair and fingers mindlessly touching here and there around your head.

"Done." Levi said, the slight hesitant wavering in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed by your sharp ears.

You look with excitement at your so-called hairbun that was made with care and love by none other than the love of your life, Levi Ackermann, humanity's strongest soldier and you bite your lower lip so hard to stifle your laugh that your body shakes. But since you feel worried that you might bleed your lip from biting too hard, you let out your controlled laugh.

"Levi........ That's a bird nest!" You exclaimed, pointing at the reflection of yourself in the mirror, precisely to the hairbun and proceeded to cover your mouth while you are laughing. Levi can’t help but smile at your laughter probably because his silliness for being so confident with his hairstyling skill was received as a source of happiness to you which is also to him eventually and the fact that he effortlessly makes you laugh without even needs to crack a dark humour as well. Most importantly, both of you got up early that morning and didn't delay on getting yourselves ready, so both of you are not in a hurry at the moment, so you can mess around with each other while not having to worry about being late. 

"Let me try again. I'll get it right this time." Levi sounds eager to try for his second attempt which you just nod with a huge beam. This time, you guide him with clear and precise instructions of doing your hair bun, from rubbing the hair oil onto your hair, then hold your hair in the centre of the back of your head, twirling it slowly and bring it back to your while swirling it. Finally, you ask him to clip your hairbun by using your favorite hair claw clip - the one in the shape of a butterfly coated with your favorite colour, it’s one Levi bought for you on your birthday knowing the obsession that you had for hair accessories. He proceeds to clip your hair carefully and takes a step back when he has done. 

Hairbun? Done.

"Perfect." You stare in awe as he releases his hands from your hair, his furrowed eyebrows due to his extreme focus on your hairstyle seem to relax upon hearing your word. He smiles in relief to you through the reflection in the mirror.

"Thank you, Levi. You finally made it," you say wholeheartedly and grin at him. Then you turn around to face him and planted a quick peck on his nose when he seems like he has been waiting for his reward.

"Not enough, one more." He demanded with one arm strongly held your waist-not wanting to let you go, greedy old man. Then you place a few more kisses across his face before he helps you with your cropped Survey Corp's jacket and both of you head to the door together to begin you and Levi's day as the soldier, serving humanity. 

Levi opens the door for you, which you walk out with a soft pat on his chest as a sign of gratitude. Both of you walk side by side towards the mess hall to have breakfast while sharing each other’s schedule for the day as well as the works that need to be done. That is how the mornings goes for today, tomorrow or any other day, a morning that starts off with full of gratefulness, love and care for each other in hope that the love that you both shared remain fresh as the morning breeze. 

[free-pancakes]

Dreams and Nightmares

Summary: Canon-Divergence fic

Hange barely survives the final fight against Eren, and is saved by inheriting the Beast Titan from Zeke Yeager in the end. However, the Scouts soon find that this would come with a heavy price--particularly at Levi's expense.

Chapter 2/? Chapter 1 crossposted to ao3 here: link

Notes: Didn't expect this quick of a turn around for the next chapter, but i couldnt sleep last night, so i finished it! hope you all like it <3

CHAPTER 2

Night fell, moonlight peeking through the open window and a dim lantern lit up the small room. Jean walked holding two cups and a pot of freshly brewed tea. He stared at Hange sitting up in bed, who was pretending to read the book in her hands. However, this didn't fool him--clearly something else was on her mind. Jean had never seen Hange like this and it distracted him, so much so that he accidentally missed the cup and poured some of the piping hot tea onto his hand.

He inhaled sharply, shaking out his hand from the burn, his eyes bulging in pain. For whatever reason, a distant memory of Sasha came to mind, laughing at him when he spilled hot coffee onto his hand once before—he whipped his head back to face Hange, hoping she’d react the same way. But to his disappointment, she continued to stare down, her brows still furrowed in a tired frown.

He walked over to her, replacing the book with a cup of tea and sat on the bed next to her. They sat for awhile, sipping tea without a word.

The silence made Jean uneasy—it was not the Hange he knew. And earlier... well that was something he never expected to do. Hange had always been a shoulder to cry on, for so many years. To him or any of the 104th…Hange was someone who never broke, at least in their eyes. And the events of this morning simply shook him and Armin to their core.

All of them had been worried sick, starting when Hange oddly burned up with a fever immediately after the battle, remaining unconscious ever since. And now that she finally woke up, she immediately returned with a genuine fear of Levi? He didn’t know what was wrong, and he wanted nothing but to help Hange. But he could think of nothing else but let her cry. He couldn’t think of a way to cheer her up like she used to do for him and everyone else.

It took her hours to calm down since she woke up that morning.

“Jean.”

He turned to Hange, happy to hear her voice finally, although weak and raspy after being out for a whole week.

“Can you... tell me what happened? The last thing I remembered was... falling...”

Jean calmly told her everything, and most importantly, explained that Levi saved her by having her inherit the Beast Titan from Zeke. Luckily from the events of the battle, the titan curse was no longer in effect in that now, all the remaining titan shifters would be able live a full life. However, they would would live the rest of their lives still having the ability to use the power of their titan, and they would each be the final wielder.

“I see...”

Hange felt dizzy, her head reeling with thoughts and hypotheses. Jean’s story seemed to fall in line with what she had been thinking over the past couple hours, though.

And that made her heart drop.

The dream she had while she was out, was not dream at all, but real memories from Zeke Yaeger. It all lined up--this had to be what had happened right before she found Levi half-dead in the grass that horrible day.

“It seems… that Zeke’s memories have entangled themselves into my own.”

Jean’s jaw dropped slightly, and locked eyes with Hange. She quickly looked away with shame. Jean took her hand—“Hange-san, it’s not your fault.”

“But it is, Jean!” she yelled, angry. Her memories of the battle bled in and out of her head, patchy flashes of Levi carrying her, risking his life when she was pretty much a goner. And now here she was, thanking him with a literal slap at the wrist, nothing but deep and utter hurt in his eyes as she cowered in fear of him. It was her fault that she wasn’t strong enough to separate Zeke’s memories from her own.

“Every time I’ve tried to think of Levi as I’ve sat here, his expression is replaced by one filled with hatred, and all I feel is the pain Zeke endured. I felt... blood dripping from my wounds, and... Levi holding up a blade to my face, his eyes cold and unrecognizable...”

Jean stared at Hange, wide-eyed. The thought of Levi hurting Hange was absolutely preposterous to him.

“You all had woken me up in the middle of a memory—I was, Zeke. I think. Levi didn’t recognize me, and dug his blade deep into the wounds I already had, and... I had this urge to hurt him. And I... I—“

Hange buried her face into her hands, guilt eating her alive—she had wanted to kill him in that moment. Obviously, this had to be what Zeke was feeling before he sent the wagon into a fiery explosion, but it felt so real. It was too real, and she almost felt like she couldn’t separate Zeke’s emotions from her own. She felt like those feelings were becoming one and the same. She couldn’t remember if she even tried to fight it in the dream. If she couldn’t fight for Levi in a dream, how could she trust herself not to hurt him now?

She explained all of this to Jean, and soon felt herself fall into panic, hyperventilating, overwhelmed at all of this. It was all beginning to feel like one, horrible nightmare. Once Jean helped her calm down, he begged her to rest. She wanted to keep gnawing at her memories, trying to separate them from Zeke’s, but exhaustion quickly fell over her. Sleep tugged at her eyelids, and before she drifted off, she quietly asked Jean not to tell Levi about anything she had said. She didn’t want Levi to feel any more upset than how she made him feel this morning.

Jean breathed out, his heart wrecked seeing the person he looked up to the most crumbling before his eyes. The only comfort he had now was seeing her face relaxed as she drifted off to sleep, her chest rising and falling evenly. All he knew was that he had to talk to Armin about this, maybe even Annie and Reiner—he thought titan shifters would be the best people to ask for help in this case, it’s not like he had any advice for something like this. But not telling Levi? That man knew when he was lying from a mile away.

Jean quietly closed the door behind him. He sighed, and turned, almost yelping out in surprised. Levi stood right in front of him, and he almost smacked right into him.

“Oh Levi, umm, Hange-san is asleep.” He stared at the reddened skin glowing under Levi’s eyes. Had he been... crying? Jean hesitated, but figured it’d be safe for Levi to go in now. He knew he wouldn’t wake Hange anyway. He stepped aside, pushing the door open for him.

“Thanks, Jean,” Levi said softly, without turning around.

“O-of course, Captain,” Jean responded before hurrying off to find Armin, avoiding any opportunity for Levi to ask him if Hange told him anything about what happened.

Levi stepped in, staring at Hange lying in the bed just as she had all week, watching her chest rise and fall rhythmically. He wanted to be happy, but all he could feel was anger as he replayed Armin’s voice in his head for the hundredth time.

“Captain, there may be a chance... well, it’s quite common to have realistic dreams when you inherit a titan--essentially reliving memories of previous shifters. And considering you didn’t have the best relationship with the previous Beast Titan...”

Levi grit his teeth—he thought he had defeated Zeke once and for all, that once he fulfilled his promise to Erwin, he could finally move on. He never imagined that it could get any worse, but it just did.

Even in death, Zeke was trying to steal the last good thing that tethered him to this earth. How could he fight someone who was no longer living? He crouched down at the foot of Hange’s bed, and buried his head in his knees. What did it matter to be considered “humanity’s strongest” if he couldn’t save any of his friends in the end?

He felt darkness swirl around him like a storm cloud. He’d say he was utterly hopeless, but he had one thing to keep him going—Hange was alive.

If she couldn’t handle him being with her while she was awake… then so be it. It was painful to think about, but he loved her enough to do just that, if it meant she could live the rest of her life happily, even without him immediately by her side. But he could only hope that this would be the absolute, last resort.

Levi stood up, his eyes softening as his gaze fell upon Hange. He walked up next to her and reached out his hand. Before he could touch her, he hesitated, flashes of the fear in her eyes permeating his mind. His hand shook, but he was soon able to steady at it as he focused on listening to Hange’s even breaths. Levi carefully placed his hand on her head, combing her soft, brown hair in between his fingers. He leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead before leaving the room, stealing one last glance at Hange before closing the door.

Armin thought it’d be best he’d stay away from Hange for at least a week, let her rest and sort out what it meant for her to hold the power of the Beast Titan. Levi was hesitant, but he trusted Armin.

He could do it. Only for Hange.

Just a week, he thought. And then he could see her again. He balled his hands into fists once more, and let the tears fall as he stood outside the room.

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

In the Still of the Night

Here is my contribution for the Captain Swan Neverland New Year event! You guys, I am so excited to be writing again!!!! Thank you @xhookswenchx for beta reading this baby for me.  Kudos to the mods of @neverlandnewyear for thinking up and putting together this treasure that is Captain Swan in Neverland. Tag list at the end, please let me know if you ever want to be removed or added. 

Summary: Set after Henry is safe (no Pan switch) but before the gang is able to leave Neverland. When Emma is woken in the still of the night, from dreams of a devilishly handsome pirate captain, she decides she needs a midnight swim to cool off. In which Hook and a daringly open Emma have a meeting of the mind, body, and soul. 

     Rated M          8K          ao3           ffnet          Story under the cut, promise

It was the middle of the night when Emma woke, a sweltering, sweaty mess. “Why is this island so fucking hot,” she muttered into the darkness. Having a lascivious dream about Hook had absolutely naught to do with her elevated temperature, it was undoubtedly this goddamn jungle. Now that Pan had been conquered, and Henry was safe, Emma found she was having an increasingly difficult time keeping the smoldering, blue-eyed pirate off of her mind. She needed to get back to Storybrooke, back to some semblance of normalcy... or whatever. She silently cursed Gold for not having found a way to get her father home safely yet. 

Ripping the covers from her body, she got up from her bunk below Henry’s and checked on him. Seeing that he was sound asleep, she headed topside. The deck of the Jolly Roger was blessedly deserted. Emma leaned against the railing, looking toward the vast jungle that was Neverland and she shuddered despite the hot, humid air that surrounded her. The shudder wasn’t due to the jungle itself. Since they’d defeated Pan, Hook had shown the group many of the island’s hidden beauties. He had stories for every spot he showed them, some hilarious, some melancholy, some quite ordinary, and others downright terrifying. There were quaint trails, refreshing springs and ponds, fascinating wildlife and vibrant plant life. It was actually quite a dream destination when a maniacal man-boy wasn’t playing psycho. 

No, it wasn’t the jungle causing that shudder. She couldn’t get that goddamn kiss off her mind. Emma bit her lip as she reminisced about the way his lips had caressed hers, the way his tongue had slipped into her mouth hungrily but also tenderly. A one-time thing, she’d told Hook. Now if she could just maintain that lie, because that’s what it had been. She really needed Gold to find a way to magic David’s health back so they could get off this god forsaken island already. 

She decided that the time for sleep was past, she was wide awake now, with thoughts of that damn pirate. A midnight dip would be ideal, especially while everyone was asleep. Emma left the Jolly Roger and headed toward the secluded pond that Hook had shown them. Once they’d no longer had to worry about being attacked, they’d created a regular schedule for bathing, so everyone had their own time. Luckily, no one’s time was right now.

Traversing quietly through the jungle, Emma admired the beauty around her. The greenery was lush, the effulgent dew made it seem more alive than any plants she’d ever been around. The blossoms surrounding the path were some of the largest she’d ever seen - they were dazzling pinks and oranges. She wondered if she had missed all this in her haste, fatigue, and desperation while finding Henry, or if the jungle had only come to life since the man-child was no more. 

She followed the trail Hook had shown them, until she came upon the pond that was shrouded below an overhang at the base of what Hook had referred to as Dead Man’s Peak. The name hadn’t initially inspired comfort in the group, but when David explained to them that the water at the top of the peak was what had cured him, their perspectives changed. Emma swore there must be some restorative properties here at the base because she always felt rejuvenated when emerging from the water.

Stripping as soon as she broke the tree line, she discarded her clothes beneath a tree along the sandy shoreline. Her flesh pebbled as it met the open air, and she felt a freeness as she walked to the water’s edge. She dipped her toes in tentatively, knowing the water would be agreeable as always. Emma was immersed thigh deep before diving down below the surface and swimming toward the middle. 

The water sluiced around her body soothingly while she held her breath as long as she could, before breaking the surface. Emma pushed her hair back then ran her hands over her face before opening her eyes. She enjoyed this spot, a sandbar of sorts, deep enough to cover her body, shallow enough that she could still reach, and far enough from all surrounding shore should anyone happen upon her.

The silence that enveloped her was serene and she looked up at the star filled sky. A shooting star floated across the heavens, but just as Emma was about to make a wish, the water beside her opened up as something emerged. The scream that started to bubble up from deep within her, as a hundred thoughts filled her mind on what unimaginable Never-beast this could be, was cut off by a voice she was not expecting to hear.

“Evening Swan!”

“Jesus Christ, Hook!” Emma gasped. Thank god she was in shoulder deep water. “Wait, did you… were you watching when I… you know,” she asked while motioning toward her body.

“Did I what?” Hook asked, genuine confusion furrowing his brow.

“Did you see me undressing?”

“You wound me, Swan… I would never!”

“Oh, tonight you’re the gentleman?”

“I told you, I am always a gentleman,” he claimed in a rich tone as he took a step closer to her. “Spying on a lady as she undresses would be unthinkably bad form.”

“Then where the hell were you?” 

“I was underwater.”

“For the whole time?” she asked disbelievingly. 

“Aye. I’m a pirate, love, when you live a life on the water, it’s best you be able to hold your breath for longer than the average landlubber. Never know when you might find yourself keelhauled.”

“Landlubber,” Emma scoffed, “I can hold my breath just fine.” 

“I’ve no doubt you can, just not as long as meself,” he smirked.

Emma narrowed her eyes at the challenge in his tone. What was it about this man that had her wanting to comply with his every whim? She’d held her breath for as long as she could when she dove into the water, if he’d been under from the time she’d stripped until he popped up to interrupt her wish, that had to be like two full minutes? No way, she thought, he must have come up for air while she was under.

“Bet I can,” she challenged back.

“Is that so?” Hook asked, crowding her a little more, eyebrow cocked in interest. “And just what are the terms of this bet?”

If ever asked under oath, Emma would swear his eyebrows spoke a language all their own. “If I win, I get the Captain’s quarters,” Emma replied, crossing her arms over her chest smugly - as if she’d already won.

“I told you before, Swan, you and the lad should have my quarters.”

“I don’t want it given to me, I want to take it from you.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “such a stubborn lass. And if I win?”

“You tell me,” Emma said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Hmmmm,” he hummed, as the tip of his tongue swept along his bottom lip. “How about…” he continued, tapping his pointer finger to his lips.

Emma leaned toward him with anticipation as he pondered the terms to set. 

“I get to ask you any question I want.”

“Seriously?” Emma sputtered, head tilting to the side, it was rhetorical at best, not an actual question. “You’re taking this gentleman schtick a little over the top. I thought you’d want me to flash my tits or another kiss?”

“I told you, love, I am always a gentleman, and as such, I would never want to take a kiss from you in victory, I want it given to me, willingly. I want you to want it as much as I do.”

Emma blushed as he spoke, damn him for being a chivalrous pirate. “Whatever,” Emma muttered, “I’m winning this bet anyway.”

“So, we have an accord?” he questioned, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“Deal,” Emma said, shaking his hand. “How will we know no one cheated?”

“I do have a code, Swan,” Hook scoffed, “pillaging and plundering, yes; swashbuckling, yes; swindling beautiful maidens, never.” He held his hand over his heart as if he were making a pledge. 

Emma smiled at the actual drama queen standing before her, laughing lightly, it felt good. “Okay, so how are we doing this thing?” Hook held up his hand like he was about to take an actual oath, and Emma was half inclined to high-five him, though she was sure that was not his intent. 

“Take my hand then,” he prompted, nodding his head toward his hand. Once her fingers were laced with his, he explained that he would count to three and they’d both submerge to the bottom, first one up was the loser, and the winner would know, because the loser would release the winner’s hand to reach the surface for air. 

On three they submerged, and Emma could not see a thing. Hook was inches from her, and the only indication was his hand in hers. Feeling the comfort of his grasp in the eerily dark abyss, she pondered over the fact that she’d interlocked their fingers, instead of just holding hands palm in palm. She really needed off this island, she couldn’t be falling for him. Life was too hard for a relationship. Or was it really too hard, the rarely heard from, softer side of Emma Swan’s mind butted in. It could be so easy, this voice told her. 

When Hook had told her that he would win her heart without any trickery, Emma’s heart had beat a little stronger just for him, she’d wanted to pull him into her arms to make out right there. Alas, there had still been the issue of her beloved child to save.

Would it really be so bad to let Hook try to win her heart though? He truly was a gentleman, a pirate scoundrel sometimes too, but it was part of his charm. Plus, her lie detector said that everything he’d told her regarding how he felt about her, about what the kiss exposed, it was all true.

Emma’s mind wandered back to Storybrooke, to what it might be like to have someone who understood her, someone who was like her, to spend time with. The squeeze he gave her hand at that moment had her picturing what it might be like to walk through town with him, hand in hand. Was that even something she could still do, be that vulnerable, for the world to see her care for a man? She’d been on her own for so long, independent; free from any man who could hold her heart with the possibility of crushing it. 

Suddenly she felt dizzy, head spinning and heart pounding loudly in her ears. Had she held her breath too long, or were her outlandish imaginings too much for her stoic heart? Releasing Hook’s hand, Emma rose to the surface and gulped in the air. Pushing water and hair from her face, she panted deeply. She wondered how long they’d been down there already as Hook continued his underwater mission. Leave it to him to not only win, but really show her up. 

A full minute later, Emma began to worry. Unless she’d been down there an inordinately short amount of time, he’d been under for at least two and a half minutes. Was that even possible? Had he passed out in his endeavor to “best her”? She started to actually worry for his health when another thirty seconds passed. 

“Goddammit Hook, where are you?” she muttered.

“Miss me, love?” 

“Oh, goddammit!” she yelled as she flailed so hard, she was pretty sure she’d just flashed her breasts unwittingly. The bastard wasn’t even out of breath when he popped up right in front of her. “Stop doing that,” she laughed as she pushed his chest. “Why’d you stay down so long, you big showoff?” 

“On the contrary, I could feel you thinking down there, the amount of body language just in your hand told me you were contemplating some things. I merely wished to give you enough time to escape, should this game have become too much for you.”

“Escape?” she scoffed.

“Now, now, Swan - we both know of your affinity to run,” he said lightly, no accusations or contempt in his voice.

“Says the pirate who sailed away when asked to be a part of something,” Emma retorted. 

“I came back, didn’t I?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow. “You, on the other hand, left me to be eaten by a giant atop that beanstalk.”

“You’re so dramatic,” she laughed. “I made a deal with Anton to release you after ten hours, I just needed a head start, in case you…” Emma’s voice lowered to a whisper, not wanting to voice her early assumptions about his motives and intentions.

“In case I betrayed you,” Hook finished. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, looking straight into his eyes, imploring him to believe the sincerity of her words. Although she’d had her reasons at the time, it didn’t make her feel less terrible now. 

“Long forgiven, milady,” he whispered in turn. Then, in the next breath, he was back to the cocky pirate she knew. “Now, I do believe I won, and per our accord, you owe me the fee of one truth.”

“Congratulations,” Emma offered, extending her hand to shake, “you won, fair and square.” No trickery, she thought. Then she crossed her arms over her chest, which was still underwater, so it didn’t make her look menacing at all as she jutted out her chin and raised both eyebrows in a silent challenge to do his worst. 

“Why thank you, Swan. Hmmm, what shall I ask you?” he spoke, as if pondering his many choices. “There are truly so many things I wish to learn about you, I want to know everything, really.”

Emma’s eyebrows lowered as a shy smile crept over her face. It was stupid, she knew, but having this man before her, admit that he wants to know everything about her made her feel… cherished, adored, wanted. It was a foreign feeling after so many years of being alone. “Well, you only get one free question,” she said, trying to deflect the saccharine sweet feelings he was stirring within her.

"Pity, that, but I do remember the terms of our agreement. I do have one question picked out that I simply must know the answer to, before I endeavor to learn more. Fair warning, I may not have an Emma Swan internal lie detector,” he said as he leaned in closer to her, “but as I told you before, you are a bit of an open book, so I’ll know if you’re twisting the truth.” 

“I would never,” Emma objected dramatically, holding a hand over her heart as he had so often done when feigning injury to his pride.

“Good,” he replied, taking a step even closer. “Then tell me, love, when you said our kiss was a one time thing, did you mean it? And if you did mean it when you said it, do you feel the same now?”

 His close proximity was making her feel a little less confident than the facade she was putting on, but Emma didn’t break the heady eye contact he’d made, a beautiful shade of blue, looking into her, reading her. And how was the kohl that rimmed his eyes unaffected by the water? She might have to pillage some of that from him, it put her realm’s cosmetics to shame. God he was gorgeous as the moonlight shined down on them, she’d never noticed the hint of red to the scruff along his sharp jawline. “That’s two questions,” she murmured breathily as she thought of nibbling along that jawline. 

“Shall I rephrase?”

“Oh, the hell with it, I never meant it,” she confessed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her bare chest against his and kissing him soundly. 

As their lips collided hungrily, over and over, Emma was pretty sure she heard Hook mumbling thanks to the gods. She felt a little of that same relief, as she finally admitted that denying herself this thing that she wanted was ridiculous now that everyone was safe. Running her fingers through his thick hair, she gave it a little tug, angling his head so she could deepen the kiss. The groan he elicited was sinful and it kind of made Emma want to rub herself all over him. 

Instead she ran her other hand over his chest, deciding to take her time, she’d wanted to feel that chest hair since the first time she’d seen it proudly on display. It wasn’t quite what she expected since they were both wet and it was matted to his chest. She smirked when he jumped, his hand tightening involuntarily in her hair as she ran a thumb over his nipple. 

“A little sensitive, Captain?” she teased, looking up at him through her long lashes.

“Aye,” Hook chuckled, “‘s been awhile.”

It’d been a long dry spell for her as well. And it’d been even longer since feeling any true emotion when with a man. It had merely been scratching an itch for so long that she was a little scared what this all meant. The tingling, unadulterated want she felt in every nerve of her body far outweighed the fear though. “Touch me,” she whispered as she wrapped both arms around his waist.

 “Bloody Hell, you’ll be the death of me, woman,” he muttered as he kissed her once more. He wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her in close. Trailing a path from her mouth to her ear, he bit gently on her lobe, and it was his turn to smirk as a shiver ran through Emma’s entire body.  “Would you be opposed to taking this back on land?” 

“We just got clean, I don’t want sand in every crack and crevice,” she giggled while wrinkling her nose. 

“Aye, that would be less than optimal,” Hook agreed, “though the place I have in mind won’t get your nether regions sandy.”

“What’s wrong with right here, right now?” Emma challenged. She was pulled up short when Hook’s cheeks went pink and he scratched behind his ear as he did so often when he was feeling slightly unsure of himself. Truth be told, Emma found it cute, although she’d never tell him that, she doubted the fearsome pirate captain wanted cute to be correlated to his reputation. 

“It’s just, I’d rather…”

Brushing the hair from his forehead, Emma smoothed her thumb over the worry line that creased his brow.  “What’s wrong?” she asked. When he made no attempt to answer, Emma decided to employ his own tactics against him. “Try something new, Hook. It’s called trust.”

Emma internally cheered as one of Hook’s mega watt smiles overtook his face. The smile that showed those adorable (another word she was sure he would not want associated with him) dimples, and crinkled the corners of his eyes. 

“Touché lass,” he conceded, “I’d rather be able to have use of all my appendages.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, gazing very obviously in the direction of his most manly appendage. “Ummm, it felt like it was working just fine to me.” 

“Christ, Swan,” he chuckled, “I assure you, everything is ready, willing, and able in that department. I’d like my hook.”

Emma’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she thought, not for the first time, about what that hook would feel like against her heated skin. 

“It’s okay, love, if it repulses you, I can just wear the brace without the hook.” 

Emma shook her head, a frown downturning her brows and her lips, “Stop-”

“But I assure you,” Hook continued without letting Emma speak, “if the hook repulses you, the wound will surely-”

Emma’s hand over his mouth was more effective in shutting him up. “Stop it,” she demanded, “right now.” 

Hook was a little taken aback by being commanded by the fiery version of Emma, he’d seen her fiery side before, and he liked it, he liked every part of her. He wasn’t taken aback by her fire, rather he wasn’t used to being bossed around. He was the boss. But as he stood there, with her hand over his mouth, he realized he’d follow her orders any day. 

“Do you think I’m unaware that you don’t have a left hand?”

Hook shook his head in the negative, since her hand was still covering his mouth.

“Do you think I’m so shallow as to be repulsed by your hook or your brace or your wound?”

Hook took longer to answer this time, contemplating what he’d said and what she was asking. He supposed his words may have left room for misinterpretation. Slowly shaking his head no again, Emma removed her hand from his mouth.

“Good,” she stated simply, reaching for his left wrist before he even realized she'd made a move. 

His head spun when he felt Emma’s touch upon his scarred flesh and his knee-jerk reaction was to pull away from her grasp. He struggled to find the words through the haze. “It was not my intent to imply you are shallow, Emma. It is my own reticence.” 

“Trust me,” she whispered as she took his left wrist again. Wrapping both of her hands around his forearm and blunt wrist. Emma repeated the words comfortingly as she placed the arm he was so ashamed of between her breasts and held it there, where he could feel her heart beating. 

“Your hook, your brace, or just this,” she squeezed his wrist, “has no bearing on how I feel about you. I care about you, Hook.” Her voice sounded shaky, even in her own ears. “You came back for me, you helped save my son, you make me feel wanted, you make me feel good about being me.” Removing one hand from his damaged skin, Emma wrapped it around the back of his neck and pulled his forehead to hers before closing her eyes and continuing. “I’m not ready for this part, and I apologize, because that is my hang up.”

“Hang up?” he questions.

“A simpleton’s way of saying reticence,” she answers with a small smile before continuing. “I hate words, they make things real, and messy, and although I mean everything I’m saying, that’s all I can handle right now. Please just…” she inhaled sharply as she tried to articulate her plea to let this be enough. 

“I understand,” he whispered, voice just as shaky as Emma’s. He placed his hand on her cheek, lovingly caressing the softness of her lower lip. “And I do trust you, love.” He pecked her lips once before continuing. “I know you don’t like words, that much was clear from the start,” he said with a knowing smile and another peck to her lips, “but I’d like to respond, if you’re amenable?”

Emma nodded her head, eyes still closed, still reeling from her own confessions. 

Hook kissed her gently again before prodding her to open her eyes. “I want you to see the truth of my words.” 

Emma inhaled deeply, then opened her eyes to look at him. She bit her lip, a nervous habit from her teen years, as she waited for his words.

“I want to be the one to bite this lip,” Hook growled, as he used his thumb to massage her lip from her teeth.

“Truth,” Emma giggled despite herself, nodding to let him know her lie detector was working.

Hook waggled his eyebrows and smirked at her, before resuming his more resolute demeanor. “I have never felt more naturally drawn to a woman than I do with you. Your fire and passion brought my dormant heart back to life, and for the first time in decades upon decades, I want to be a better version of myself, a version that has been long forgotten, the old Killian Jones who was an honorable man, with good intentions, and hope in his heart, not revenge.”

“You may have lost your way for a time, but you’re still an honorable man, Killian.”

“Gods above,” Hook murmured as he wrapped both arms around Emma and pulled her into nothing more than a loving embrace. He was in love with her, but now was not the time. Emma would undoubtedly run if any grand declarations were made. He hadn’t felt this vulnerable maybe ever and he longed to hear her call him by his given name again. 

“Emma? Hook?! What the hell?”

Emma froze in Hook’s embrace as the familiar, and annoying, and currently very judgmental voice sounded from the shore.

“Bollocks,” Hook cursed. “How shall we handle this, darling?”

“Can we just pretend he’s not there,” she deadpanned, face still buried in her neck, trying to keep reality at bay.

“Somehow I doubt that will work, but you are The Savior, you could give it a go.”

Emma sighed deeply before turning around in Hook’s arms, her back to his chest, so she could face their interloper. She placed her hands over his hand and wrist where they were wrapped around her waist. It was still dark as she faced Neal, so hopefully he wouldn’t see the eyeroll she’d just given him when she saw this silhouette of his hands on his hips like some outraged father. 

“Good morning, Neal,” she called to the shore cheerfully. “I must have lost track of time, I didn’t realize it was already your shift for bathing.”

“It’s not,” he muttered, “it’s still the middle- not the fucking point,” he interrupted himself. “It’s not your shift either, what the hell are you doing out here?”

As much as Emma wanted to tell Neal that she and Hook were doing exactly what he assumed they were doing, she abstained.  “I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she snapped. 

“It is my business,” he snarled back, “we’re supposed to be here for Henry.”

“Don’t you dare!” Emma started, voice rising with rightfully earned indignation. “We came here to save Henry who is now safe and sound aboard the Jolly, but the reason we are here is because your deranged fiancée dragged him through a portal to sacrifice him to a madman.” 

“So you’re just going to throw away any chance of rekindling what we had, of being a family with Henry; so you can get laid by a dirty pirate.”

Emma pulled Hook’s arms around her tighter, keeping him anchored to her when she felt him start to pull away. She didn’t need these two getting into it again. 

“Oi! I bathe quite frequently, mate,” Hook quipped. “I was doing so when Swan and I happened upon each other.”

“Shut up, Hook,” Neal retorted.

“The one good thing that came from us, was Henry, but our relationship is long over. There is nothing to rekindle,” Emma sighed. She didn’t want to be mean, but she needed Neal to understand that she wanted nothing to do with him romantically. And she was not going to be lectured by the man who’d already blown up her life once. “Maybe one day, you and I can be friends for Henry’s sake, but that is the most we will ever be.”

“Ems, you don’t mean that. You’re under his thrall, it’s not real.”

Emma completely ignored the bait, choosing instead to stop this exchange in its tracks. “Hook and I are kind of busy,” she said with a lighthearted tone, while turning back around to face Hook. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she called over her shoulder, ”If there’s nothing else, we’ll see you later.”

“You mark my words Emma, when he abandons you after taking what he wants, you’re going to look back and regret this moment.”

“He’s stuck around through more shit than you ever did,” she called back, looking straight into Hook’s eyes.

Properly dismissed, Neal stormed off, muttering curses the whole way.

Emma dropped her head to Hook’s chest, exhaling with relief. “That felt good,” she said. 

“Well done, lass, though I’ve yet to see you fail, so I am not surprised Baelfire is no match for you. But perhaps we should make our way back as well,” Hook suggested. “I do believe he will be stirring the pot, come morning. You may want to be there to head off the storm.”

“I don’t care if he goes back to tell everyone, it’s not like it’s a lie, and at least this way, they will know we’re safe, and not missing. With any luck, we’ll be left alone for a bit,” she purred.

“Are you sure your parents will approve of you spending time with a dirty, one-handed pirate with a drinking problem?”

Emma’s head jerked up and she eyed him scrutinously. “First, you need to get Pan and Neal out of your head. Second, the only person who gets to decide who I spend my time with, or how I spend it, is me. And third, how do you know I don’t want you to be dirty,” she teased as she took command of his mouth with her own. 

Not giving him a chance to think further, Emma quickly kissed him again. She slid her tongue past his lips, rolling it against Hook’s, who was quick to reciprocate. She wrapped her lips around his tongue and sucked on it, eliciting one of the sexiest noises she’d ever heard. It was half growling and half begging for more. The buoyancy helped him to easily lift her and she instinctively surrounded his body with her legs.

Hook broke the kiss, in favor of exploration. His hot mouth trailed down Emma’s neck, licking here and nibbling there, never too rough, he didn’t wish to mark her, at least not where it would be visible. He palmed one of her breasts with his hand while running his thumb over her already pebbled peak. “Gods you are perfect,” he murmured before taking her other breast in his mouth and alternating between gently suckling and the graze of his teeth. 

Emma moaned softly in pleasure and torment as Hook worked her up, her clit throbbed and she longed to feel his hand or his mouth between her legs. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she pulled his head back and gazed into his eyes, want and desire evident in her pupils which were blown wide and the way her tongue licked salaciously over her bottom lip before she bit down on it. 

She unwrapped her legs from around Hook’s torso, in favor of standing again. Sliding her hands down his back, she squeezed his ass cheeks before pressing her body against his. “I want you,” she whispered when she felt his hardness against her stomach. Emma reached between them to wrap her hand around his thick length.

“Swan,” Hook choked out, pulling her hand gently away from his overly eager cock. “I really don’t want this to be over before it starts.”

Emma smiled knowingly, the very thought of making him come early amping up her need. “Okay, you lead,” she agreed.

“Come with me.” Hook led her toward the far end of the pond, which was actually far larger than she’d realized. They rounded a large looming rock which cloaked the entrance to a small cave by the shore.

“You just know all the secret spots, don’t you?”

“I discovered many hiding spots over the years I spent on this cursed island,” Hook acknowledged. “I usually walk to this side of the water’s edge to deposit all my belongings before bathing. One can never be too safe with the keeping of his hook.” Extending his hand to Emma, he led her out of the water and into the shelter. 

They entered far enough to have a little privacy, but not so far as to be pitched in blackness. Hook pulled her over to a natural, rock-formed shelf. “Do you want a towel, milady? Perhaps my shirt?”

“I want you,” Emma growled, yanking on his hand and pulling him flush against her body and attacking his mouth again.

“Mmmm, as you wish,” he uttered between ardent kisses. 

Emma whined when he broke away from her again, “Hook!”

“Patience, darling,” he teased. Then he quickly grabbed his jacket and his towel, laying first the jacket down on the cave floor, followed by the towel. “So you don’t get sand in every crack and crevice,” he advised with a mock bow. 

Emma laughed at his naked bow before tackling him to the makeshift bed and straddling his hips. She wove the fingers of her left hand with his right, and wrapped her other hand around his wrist before pinning them above his head. 

She didn’t miss the way he jumped when she embraced his wrist, a fleeting look of helplessness crossing over his face. She kissed him softly, tenderly, wanting to calm his nerves about his perceived flaw. When she felt his body relax against hers, she started to trail kisses across the line of his jaw before veering back up to his ear. “Has anyone ever told you, you are beyond gorgeous?” she whispered before sucking his earlobe into her mouth.

“I tell myself this all the time, but it does sound much lovelier on your luscious lips.”

“These lips?” Emma asked, sitting up just slightly and running her tongue along her bottom lip.

“Aye, the very ones,” Hook struggled to get out of her hold, as he tried leaning up to taste her lips.

Emma kept a firm hold on him though, enjoying this little bit of control. She could feel his cock against her ass, hard for her, twitching each time she nibbled and sucked at his skin. She continued to trail kisses downward, along his neck, across his pecs. His hips thrusted upwards when she bit down on his nipple and flicked her tongue over the sensitive flesh. “Patience,” she mimicked his earlier command. 

Hook’s melodramatic exhale made her giggle as she scooted further down his body, gently rubbing her wet core along his cock. “Bloody hell!” Hook cursed while deftly flipping them over.

“Don’t you want to see what else these luscious lips can do?” she asked with a wicked grin. 

“Gods above, I do. But I swear you will unman me the moment you wrap your lips around me.”

Emma smirked at him, eyes alight with lust.

“You little minx, you like that idea don’t you?” 

“Maybe,” she admitted, a confession really, despite the ambiguity of the answer. She’d already resumed stroking him.

“Fuck,” Hook hissed at her touch. He was torn between his ego needing to pleasure her first and his baser instincts demanding he let her do her worst. 

Emma watched Hook, saw him struggle with the decision, his eyes squeezing shut when she ran her thumb over his tip. Without waiting for his answer, Emma rolled them back over and licked from his base to his tip before sucking the head of his cock into her mouth while continuing to pump him.

  Her clit ached as she reveled in the wrecked expression on his face, Hook was watching her every move, lip pinned between his teeth as he struggled to hold out. She knew he was close when his hand balled into a white knuckled fist on his stomach and she gently cupped his balls to massage them. The sound that left his mouth was positively feral as he came hard, warm and wet in her mouth.

She savored the moment, he hadn’t lasted long, and she’d been the one to do that to him. But that was all she had, a fleeting moment before she was being rolled to her back. 

Hook held her in his blunted arm and dove in for a kiss, not caring at all that his taste was still on her tongue. He smiled against her lips when he felt her spreading her legs beneath him. “Eager, are we?” he asked between kisses.

“Don’t tease,” she panted into his mouth.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Hook slowly caressed his hand down her neck, stopping to play with her breasts for just a moment before continuing down to where he knew she was desperate to be touched. He parted her lips with two fingers and slid his middle finger into the warm wetness waiting for him. “Gods, Swan, you’re soaked.” His cock was already coming back to life as he thought about sliding into her wet heat.

Emma’s eyes rolled shut as Hook massaged her clit with her slippery wetness and any response she could’ve made was forgotten. Her mouth parted with an involuntary whimper when he switched it up, suddenly, but oh so easily slipping two fingers deep inside her. She contracted around his fingers, then pushed down, welcoming the penetration. 

Hook fucked her with his fingers, circling his thumb over her clit, while watching her cheeks flush pink and her breasts bounce as she rode his hand. Longing to taste her, he repositioned himself between her legs, chuckling at her whine of protest when he had to stop for a moment. 

“Oh fuck,” she panted when he resumed loving her clit, this time with his tongue. He alternated between licks and flicks and sucking. Emma’s head spun dizzily, she’d experienced oral sex, but apparently she had never experienced mind blowing oral sex. She threaded both hands into his hair and tried desperately not to be too rough. “Oh my god, I’m gonna… I’m gonna…”

Hook chose that moment to thrust his fingers back inside her and Emma was gone, she came harder than she ever had, warm and tingly and wet as Hook continued to thrust his fingers into her and suck on her clit. She saw stars or dots or something behind her eyelids and there was a rush of waves nearby, or maybe that was just the adrenaline coursing in her ears. The little aftershocks pulsing and throbbing in her clit were heavenly and oh my god, that was fucking amazing, she thought.

“Get up here,” she purred, pulling on his hair.

“It seems someone was just as primed as I was,” Hook smirked as he slid back up the length of her body.

Emma silenced his smugness by wrapping her legs around waist and flipping him to his back. The rush of air that left Hook’s chest made her chuckle as she placed her hands on his cheeks and whispered to him between kisses. “Well, you’re very, very skilled,” she praised.

“You set the bar very high, love.”

Emma beamed at his compliment, her cheeks warming. She wasn’t sure what it was about this man that made her feel unlike she’d ever felt with another man. Like she was special and desired, it made her feel sexually free in a way she never had. Sitting astride Hook’s solid body, she caressed her hands along his chest, exploring his now dry chest hair, it was just as thick and glorious as she’d imagined. 

Emma could see the scars littering his flesh and she’d felt more when they’d been in the water and her hands had explored the expanse of his back. She wondered how rough his life had been to have this many physical scars. Her heart constricted a bit at that thought, especially already knowing he had just as many emotional scars as she did. She was both taken aback and a little frightened when she realized she wanted to know so much more about Hook. Maybe it was time to stop running from good things, Emma thought, her mind once again weighing the pros and cons of a relationship. Her train of thought was lewdly interrupted by a thrust of Hook’s hips, his hardness tapping at her back.

“Ready so soon, pirate,” she said in a husky tone while rising up on her knees and guiding him to her core. She ran the tip of his cock through her wet folds, both of them moaning with unadulterated lust. 

“Fuck yes,” he growled, thrusting his hips upward again. 

Emma cried out as his tip slipped inside her, a wave of arousal pooling and her belly tightening with want. She slid down his generous length, slowly savoring the drag against her slippery walls. She planted both hands on his chest and stilled her movements when he was fully seated, adjusting to his size. 

“You alright, love?” Hook asked, squeezing her hip gently while he circled his thumb over her hip bone.

She nodded her head and opened her eyes, which she didn’t realize she’d shut, to gaze down at the gorgeous man below her. “You feel good,” she praised, lifting her hips and sinking back down on to him. Emma set a languid pace, delighting in the sensation of fucking, the drag along her walls, angling herself so he hit that spot.

“That’s it, lass, take what you want,” Hook encouraged as Emma rode him; slowly at first, then building in pace as her cheeks flushed and a light sheen of sweat broke out across her forehead. He wished, not for the first time tonight, to be able to touch her with two hands. He encouraged her to touch her breasts as he changed course to play with her clit. 

Emma’s thighs began to burn as she worked to bring them both to that sweet edge of release, and the delicious friction between them built higher and higher. She palmed her breasts, tweaking her nipples and watched as Hook thumbed her clit in time with her thrusts. His hooded eyes roamed her body, and he bit down on his lip as he watched his cock disappear inside her heat over and over. She liked watching him watch her and the small grunts he gave each time she impaled herself and ground against him were hot. Emma found herself at the edge of bliss again and she whimpered as Hook began thrusting up into her.

Hook was having a hard time controlling his ardor, he wanted to flip them and plunge deeply into her. She was a vision, flushed pink, sweaty, breasts bouncing as she rode him to the edge. And then he heard her...

“Come with me, Killian,” she panted.

...and he was undone. The plea in her tone as she said his name and the massage of her walls against his cock as she began to come, ended him. He came hard and hot with a cry of her name, filling her with his seed until it began to spill as she continued to ride him through both of their releases. 

As euphoria traveled throughout her body, Emma slumped into Hook’s body. She’d never felt so gratified as her entire being thrummed with bliss. Hook turned them to their sides and kissed her fervently. Wrapping both her arms around him, Emma gave as good as she got, their tongues and lips engaging lovingly. She lost track of all time as they lay together, parting only when they needed breath. “That was-”

Hook covered her mouth much as she had covered his earlier. “Don’t,” he whispered with a pleading look in his eyes.

Emma wrapped her fingers around his palm and removed his hand, giggling quietly. “I didn’t mean it the first time, and I damn sure wouldn’t mean it this time,” she assured him, noting how his shoulders sagged in relief. “I was going to say that was amazing… brilliant,” she murmured into his ear. 

Hook chuckled, remembering the time he’d said those words to her. “Aye, Swan, we still make quite the team.”

Emma could only smile at the seamless harmony that flowed between them. And she kissed him once more before snuggling into him. 

As a sated exhaustion made itself known in her body, Emma rejoiced that it was still dark outside of the cave. A vigorous yawn and stretch wracked her body, and Killian chuckled lightly again.

“Did I wear you out?” 

Emma laughed as the same yawn tore through Hook, no sooner had he spoken his teasing words. “I think we wore each other out,” she snickered. 

“Aye lass, I believe you’re right. How about we get washed up and head back to the Jolly? I’ll give you the captain’s quarters, even though you lost.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Brag much?”

“What is the fun in winning a wager if I cannot gloat?”

“Such a pirate,” she muttered before rolling him to his back again. “How about we share the captain’s quarters?”

“Deal,” Hook accepted without hesitation. 

A half hour later, they were standing in the cave, bathed, and mostly dressed, Hook had gone to get Emma’s clothes for her from the opposite shoreline. 

“Shall we?” Hook asked, offering Emma his hand. He frowned when she made no attempt to move.

“I’d rather…” she started, a blush coloring her cheeks.

“Ah, I understand,” Hook said, quickly understanding. “Shall we head back in separate directions? Or perhaps, I’ll just stay here for a bit and come back later in the morning.”

Emma rolled her eyes again, this time with a bit of frustration, as she placed her hands on her hips. “That is not what I was going to say.”

Hook raised an eyebrow in question, waiting for her to explain.

“Has nothing I’ve said tonight gotten through to you? Or did that mind blowing sex make you forget?” She took his heavier than expected leather duster from where he had it draped over his arm and turned around to lay it out on the cave floor. 

Turning to face Hook again, she cupped his face in both hands. “Let’s recap, I like how you make me feel, I’m not worried about everyone finding out, best oral ever, sensational sex, no running away. I fancy you, Killian.” Emma finished her statement with a gentle kiss.

The gobsmacked look on Hook’s face made her laugh out loud. “I was going to say I’d rather spend the rest of the night here with you. We already know everyone else will know we’re safe. Even if Neal doesn’t outright blab; if Mary Margaret and David start to worry, he won’t hesitate to spill what he knows.” 

“You fancy me, love?”

Despite heavily stroking his ego by admitting he was the best she’d ever been with, it figured the part he’d pick up on was the closest she’d get to any kind of outright confession of feelings. Emma smacked her hand to her forehead. “Yes, Killian, I fancy you. Don’t get all cocky about it.”

“On my honor, I’ll not get cocky,” he promised before leaning in to kiss her, “as I quite fancy you as well. But you already know that.”  

Laying down on his jacket, the two snuggled together, Emma in panties and Hook’s shirt and Hook in his birthday suit.

“You needed to get naked again to go to sleep?” Emma asked with a little sarcasm in her tone.

“I’ll have you know that style and comfort do not go hand in hand, Swan. Those leathers, though appealing to the eye, do not make for great sleep clothes. Besides, all pirate’s know the only way to sleep when there’s a lovely lass in his bed, is in the nude. You know… easy access.”

“Why am I not surprised by that, Killian?”

“I’ll never tire of hearing you call me that,” he answered. 

“Killian,” she whispered.

“Aye, love?”

“Nothing, I just wanted you to hear me say it again.”

A boyish smile broke out over Killian’s face as he pulled her in tighter to his side. “Good night, Swan.”

“Goodnight, Killian.”

The End

Tagging some lovely shipmates - please let me know if you don’t want to be tagged - or if you’re reading and want me to tag you. 

@laschatzi @qualitycoffeethings @hookedonapirate @wordsmith-storyweaver @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @wyntereyez @hooklineandswan @teamhook @let-it-raines @whimsicallyenchantedrose @spartanguard  @tiganasummertree@apromisednightcap  @xemmaloveskillianx @elizabeethan @cocohook38 @optomisticgirl @darkcolinodonorgasm @jennjenn615 @timeless-love-story @girl-in-a-tiny-box @thesschesthair @galadriel26 @ultraluckycatnd @lifeinahole27 @therooksshiningknight @kday426 @djlbg @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @lfh1226-linda @delightfully-difficult-pirate @thejollyswan @csalltheway @xarandomdreamx @vvbooklady1256 @withheartfulloflove @resident-of-storybrooke @mcakers @gingerchangeling @searchingwardrobes​

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

General Hux x Female Reader

A/N: Continuing with this fic and now apparently I need to do a new board for every chapter because I am that invested! @autumnleaves1991-blog little tag for you as you inspired all of this 🥰

Warnings: some angst, I was tired when I wrote some of it 🤣 i.e Hux & Phasma, alcohol, drunk feelings, bit of a filler chapter.

Word Count: 3661

Read Part 3 here on AO3.

Hux marched down the corridors, he knew he was late. The silence that permeated the ship told him only a skeleton crew was on right now. He had got wrapped up in work and making sure Ren and the Knights had something to occupy their tiny brains away from the ship. Away from you. He tugged on his gloves, pulling them even tighter against the tips of his fingers, ignoring the way the leather seemed to chafe all of a sudden. His hands were clammy and he hated the sensation, it was like emotion was leaking out of his very pores and he felt disgusted by it. When did the corridors become so warm?

He tugged on the collar of his uniform as your door came into sight and he paused. It was so late. Maybe you weren’t awake, he should leave and return in the morning, but would you think him rude if you had stayed up and he didn’t even knock? He rolled his eyes at his stupidity, this was his ship. If he wanted to knock on someone’s door at whatever o’clock. He would. His knuckles rapped smartly on the durasteel and he instantly curled them behind his back, clutching his hands together to try and ground himself. This was stupid so stupid. He was about to move away thinking you’d fallen asleep when the door opened to reveal you in a light night dress and gown that trailed along the floor, it had wide sleeves that flared around your arms and you held a glass of wine. Your eyes flashed, a toothy grin split your face and before he could react you’d grabbed the material of his uniform and hauled him into your room. The door closed behind him and he swallowed loudly, smoothing the front of his uniform down but not forgetting the way you’d grabbed him. His body had instantly reacted with panic and he tried to ignore the way his hands shook.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it!” You exclaimed slightly louder than normal. His eyes did a quick study of your room, noticing the half empty bottle and to his dismay the covered dishes that were no doubt cold now.

“I must apologise for my tardiness.” You snorted loudly and he looked up in surprise at the noise, his eyebrows shooting up before he managed to control himself.

“I started without you.” He watched as you flopped down on the sofa, the light gown billowing around you, highlighting your curves in the dim light and he snapped his gaze back to the table.

“I had to oversee the departure of….” He started to explain but your hand waved in a dismissive way and for the first time he felt annoyed with you.

“I expected no less General.” Oh. His spine straightened at the use of his title.

“I shall take my leave, my Lady.” Your head whipped around at his haughty tone, pinning him to the spot with a glare he’d never seen before. He felt a flush begin to creep down his body and his brain slowly stuttered to a stop at the power you wielded in that moment.

“You said you would stop by for dinner. So dinner we shall have.” Hux nodded curtly, not entirely sure what was happening and he felt lost as you stalked towards him. You slammed your glass down on the table and sat with exaggerated flair, he moved from habit to push your chair in before you completed the movement but you ignored his effort. He sat opposite you, removing his gloves and feeling his fingers breathe for the first time all day. He couldn’t stop his eyes from being drawn to your face, your mouth was set in a hard line and you refused to look up. Hux held in a sigh and wondered if it was such a good idea having you on the ship, maybe he could send you back to Arkanis and he would then forget you existed. His heart skipped a beat at the thought and he instantly knew that wasn’t an option, but if you didn’t want to be here…. He took a mouthful of food controlling his expression to a blank one as the cold food rolled around his mouth. He should be used to this, the amount of meals he left to go cold before he managed to nibble on them or the amount he outright missed. Food was never delicious anymore but he could tell this meal would have been, if he had arrived on time. He forced himself to swallow not wanting to offer any more insult to you, recognising the native Arkanis herbs spicing the meat and he deduced you’d cooked this yourself. That feeling was creeping up on him again, the one that left him shaken and questioning who he was. Guilt.

“Did you cook this?” He asked after forcing another mouthful down. He looked up when you didn’t reply, seeing you shove the food around your plate in a halfhearted way.

“I needed something to occupy myself,” you said softly and his heart ceased beating at the wistfulness of your tone.

“Do you miss it?” He asked desperately, trying to engage you in some sort of conversation. He felt you were slipping away from him already and you’d been here less than a day. He had been so ready to trust someone and yet he had ruined that in the first few hours of being anywhere near you. Because that’s who he was. It’s all he was capable of.

“Arkanis? No.” He watched the column of your neck as you drank the last dregs of your glass and he automatically rose, the noise of his chair loud on the floor. You straightened as he neared you with the new bottle, the only sound was the soft splash of the red liquid as it emptied into your glass. Hux tipped the bottle until it was empty and went to retrieve a new one from the cooler. He tried to ignore your heavily lidded eyes watching him break the seal on the new bottle. He needed a drink. It had been a long day and he was having palpitations at the thought of sending you back to that hellhole of a planet if this didn’t work out. “Do you miss it?” You asked, your arm was across your chest as you sat back in your seat, your other hand holding your glass to your lips, staring at him over the rim.

“No. This is my home,” he replied, gesturing around you. “This ship is the only thing that holds any good memories for me.” He pursed his lips, swilling the ruby liquid in his glass. How did you do it? He’d never been this honest, this bare with anyone before and it was alien to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so angry before. I am not used to coming….second.” He cocked an eyebrow dragging a gulp from his glass. It seemed he wasn’t the only one prepared to break down barriers. “Why did you marry me? It didn’t benefit you in any way.” He knew you were fishing and it piqued his interest as to why you cared. That tiny spark of hope flared in his chest and he met your steady gaze, he took another sip while he contemplated his answer.

“It got me you.” Oh. It seemed not eating all day and some good wine loosened his tongue and he chose the bold route. The change in your demeanour was noticeable, your gaze went from curious to smouldering with just a subtle movement of your head and Hux knew he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. You captivated him, trapped him in a prison he didn’t know could exist. His fingers tightened on his glass, he had to finish it, maybe if he did it would erase the self doubt in his mind. Maybe it would remove his inhibitions about contact, maybe he’d be able to let go. And right now, there was no one he’d rather let go with.

“Am I just a prize to be paraded around?” Your question surprised him and then it dawned on him, you were testing him. Finding out his reasoning as to why he said what he did.

“You’re so much more,” he offered, his arm resting nonchalantly over the back of his chair. He poured more wine into his glass before sliding the bottle across the table and you caught it.

“How so?” You asked cocking your head inquisitively and he shifted in his seat feeling uncomfortably warm again.

“You make me say things, pieces of myself that I’ve never shared with another living soul.” He sounded stupid. This wine was making him stupid, but he drank more anyway to try and rid himself of the shame that clouded his mind.

“I do?” His breath hitched at your soft tone and he nodded not knowing what else to say. You hummed slightly, your eyes lowering as you rolled the glass against your lips.

Hux found himself focusing on your face, every tiny infliction that crossed your expression, the way your eyes moved side to side, your bottom lip dragged through your teeth and he felt himself melting into his chair wondering what that felt like. “Armitage,” his name seemed to revive him from his thoughts but you weren’t sitting down anymore, you were standing next to him. His heart jumped, the butterflies in his stomach coming alive at a moment's notice, your hand was hesitant before settling on his shoulder. Even through the padding he could feel your feather light touch and it raced down his body right to his crotch and he shifted again. No one had ever had this effect on him before, not even in the academy days, not as an adult not ever. His eyes closed briefly before snapping them open again as you bent forward, your flimsy gown revealing far more skin than he’d ever seen of a woman and he tried to focus on your eyes. Your clean scent washed over him and he breathed you in, your hair brushed against his nose as you gently pressed your warm lips to his cheek. It was intimate, so soft, so perfect he found himself turning and your lips met his almost by accident. You pulled away, licking your lips, savouring the taste of him. Hux was frozen, trapped like a purrgil in the lights of a ship not knowing which way to turn. So you took control.

You tipped his head back, capturing his wine stained lips with yours again, your hand brushing his cheek feeling the hint of stubble that you couldn’t see in the dim light. His hand hovered in midair as though he was unsure if he should touch you until it finally settled on the back of your head, applying more pressure to the kiss and he exhaled softly though his nose. Pulling away, you turned and headed to the sofa, maybe that was enough for tonight, your head was already swimming but apparently, it wasn’t. Hux stood up, his bare hands grabbing yours, stopping you from moving away from him. He tugged on you, spinning you back round and boldly grabbing your face. His lips were so soft and you found yourself melting against him, your hands fisting in his uniform at his hips pulling his body even closer. You teased his lips, manipulating him to open up and sliding your tongue inside his heated mouth, the groan that rose from his chest surprised him as much as it surprised you and he withdrew. His bright green eyes were blown wide and he knocked into the chair behind him, stumbling slightly in his haste.

“I-I should go.” Before you could draw in a breath to protest the door was closing behind him leaving you in deafening silence.

Hux spent the night staring at his ceiling as every feeling imaginable coursed through his body. You had kissed him, you had kissed him back, the feel of your lips hadn't left him all night and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to concentrate at all today. He contemplated sending a memo that he was ill but he didn’t need rumours flooding the ship now. Plus, without the influence of wine you’d probably see him in a different light, an ugly light and wonder what you were doing. The thought deflated him, and he rose ready to put aside all these ridiculous feelings and get stuck into work.

He entered the bridge and instantly he saw Dopheld talking to someone he didn’t recognise, they were in an officers uniform and Hux frowned. Was he really that hungover he didn’t recognise one of his own officers? As he drew level with the pair the officer turned and his entire world stopped. It was you. Standing there like you’d been doing this your whole life, the uniform made you look like you’d been here since the ship had been built making Hux feel jittery. He had hoped to keep your identity secret at least for a time, until people had got used to you being onboard. Dopheld noticed the tension between you both but chose not to comment and instead addressed Hux like he did every morning. But Hux was barely listening, the bright glittering lights of hyperspace reflected in the depths of your eyes and he couldn't look away as you gazed at him. The kiss came to the forefront of his mind and the alien tingle erupted all over his body again rendering him utterly useless on the bridge of his own ship.

“When we arrive at Coruscant, Commander Ren and the Knights are requesting permission to disembark upon the ship…”

“Wait. What?” Snapped Hux. His voice was rough from lack of use and he cleared his throat before addressing Mitaka again. “They finished their mission?”

“A-apparently so.” Damn. Hux’s intense gaze alighted on you briefly before orders began to fall from his mouth.

“The officer here needs to have mental resistance training today.” Mitaka’s eyes widened and he dutifully tapped into the datapad.

“There is an opening, in 5 minutes.”

“Escort her.” Said Hux abruptly before turning away and heading to his office. He didn’t want to say more, not on the bridge where the hub of gossip originated. He slumped at his desk with a sigh, staring at the notifications he had left last night. They blinked wildly from his datapad, mission reports, planetary statuses, fleet positioning, it was all here at his fingertips. He sent a request for Phasma before getting stuck in and approving what he needed to approve. She arrived in all her silver finery, removing her helmet to reveal her piercing blue eyes and shock of blonde hair before seating herself at his desk.

“You summoned me?”

“I did,” he answered, not even looking up. “I need you to watch the VIP in the officers deck.”

“You mean your wife.” Hux’s jaw clenched tightly, the pain shooting to his brain before working to release the muscle, his eyes rose finally to meet Phasma’s curious blue ones.

“Where did you hear that?” He asked, a dangerous edge to his tone, but Phasma wasn’t phased.

“You know Dopheld can’t keep his mouth shut.” She replied with a smirk. Damn it. He was going to have to lay down some ground rules with you and he already knew you weren’t going to like them.

“Can you shut him up?” He asked quietly and Phasma’s smirk widened.

“So it’s true?” She asked gleefully.

“Yes it’s true but can you stop the information spreading anymore?” She snorted softly.

“Gossip spreads on this ship like Bantha disease. You’ll be lucky if the technicians don’t already know.” Hux threw down his datapad with a groan, rubbing his tired eyes trying to bring some life back to his face. “It’s not the worst thing that could happen,” she offered, trying to reassure him. “Makes you seem human at least. There was rumour going around that you were a droid.”

“Excuse me?” Phasma shrugged like it was nothing.

“That one started organically, no one sees you eat or drink caf or pee…”

“Why would I let people see me pee?” He asked incredulously.

“I don’t know. To prove you’re not a droid.” She finished.

“This is ridiculous.” He huffed. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“What’s this I hear Ren is coming back? It’s only been a day or so and I’m already missing my sparring partner.”

“You know I don’t approve of your closeness with the Commander.” Phasma shrugged. She knew the hatred that existed between Ren and Hux and honestly she didn’t care. Ren was a good sparring partner but Hux had given her a life and that gave him her undying loyalty. Until she didn’t need him anymore. “But yes he is returning to the ship so I need you to watch the VIP.” Phasma stood, she read between the lines, she noted Hux’s posture and registered little things about him that no one else would. He was worried for you not that he’d ever admit it.

“Consider it taken care of, General.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

The day was arduous making Hux feel exhausted and he automatically went straight to his quarters. He felt he wouldn’t be welcome in yours after leaving so abruptly the night before. It was late and he stifled a yawn as he punched in the code for his door, it opened and he froze. You were sitting at his table, the hat you’d been wearing was on the table, your boots placed neatly next to your chair, your uniform was undone to reveal the standard black tank top underneath and he momentarily forgot to breathe. He forced himself to step inside letting the door close as he struggled to find something to say.

“Seems I’m not cut out for this,” you murmured. He saw you’d found his bottle of liquor, two glasses were on the table but only yours had the brown liquid in. “I thought I could pretend to be an officer for the day but people kept asking me questions…” Hux’s blood ran cold, he’d never assumed people would look at you as an actual officer, but then he did refer to you as that on the bridge. Damn it. He thought his staff had more sense about them, though he did take the time to memorise every face and name that was under his command; he doubted anyone else took the time and effort to do that.

“What do you think you’re playing at?” He asked, his voice low and pointed as he tried to keep the command from his tone. He was tired and he could feel his patience slipping.

“I thought I could fit in…”

“You were supposed to stay in your quarters.” He enforced, stepping forward. Your eyes flashed as you finally turned to look at him.

“Right. So I am a prize. Or am I a prisoner?” He felt his anger flare at the venom in your voice and he realised this could get heated fairly quickly.

“You chose to come aboard my ship!”

“Yes but I didn’t really know what I was letting myself in for, did I?” You spat. “If I’d known it would be like this I might as well have stayed on Arkanis and looked after that big house all on my own.” Hux bristled. What did you expect? This was a battleship, his pride and joy. His sweat, blood and downright determination had gone into acquiring this position he held now and he wasn’t going to let anyone ruin that and if it meant sending you home….it meant sending you home.

“Maybe you should.” He turned away to lean on the back of the sofa, he was too exhausted for this. He thought this could work but you were too headstrong, too curious. And he worried it was going to get you killed or worse, undermine his position.

“I guess I shall make the necessary arrangements.” You said standing up. “I clearly know when I am not wanted.” Hux closed his eyes trying to suppress his rising temper, but he didn’t succeed.

“What do you want from me?” He snarled, spinning abruptly to face you. “You chose to come aboard my ship,” he advanced on you, his height an advantage in creating an imposing figure as you backed away from him. “This is a working battleship. The very flagship of the First Order I am in charge here, this is all mine. I don’t have time to play husband and wife.” The hurt was evident on your face as your back nudged into the wall, the boots you’d been wearing were held tightly in your hands and Hux was suddenly thrown back to a memory with his father.

He had done something wrong, he was always doing something wrong in Brendol’s eyes. He remembered his father yelling all ruddy faced as he backed Hux into a corner, the sting of a back slap following swiftly after. It appalled him, especially now when he saw his own hands balled at his sides, trying to stop from raising them like his father had done. His eyes slowly met yours, the anger melting away in the face of your wide eyed worried look. He wanted to apologise but the words wouldn’t slip past the obstruction in his throat so he stepped back. He closed his eyes as you silently slipped past him leaving his quarters in such a hurry and he silently cursed himself over and over again. Why was he like this? Why did he ruin everything? He stalked over to his table, aggressively pouring a large glass as he fought with the fasting at the collar of his uniform. First thing in the morning, he was sending off the details for your transfer back to Arkanis.

[faetxlity]

Here’s A Health To The Company

@save-a-witcher-bingo  Prompt: At Sea Characters: Witcher Gerd, Togeir the Red, Jerome Moreau

 Torgeir was looking up at the ruins of what had once been his home. What      was     his home.      Is.    The flames were spreading quickly, Fort Tuirseach was all but destroyed. Like the Jarl who had filled its halls with laughter and mead- ruined.

 At his side, stained in blood, sat the Witcher Gerd. His jaw was tight, his hands were fisted in the fabric of his own filthy shirt, but his eyes were clear. He did not watch the ruin of his adopted home, rather he watched the blood seep from the bandages that he had wrapped around Torgeir’s leg. Already they were in need of changing but they had no fabric with which to do so, his original job had been so hasty... Unless they ripped apart the sails there was nothing to be done. But to do such a thing as that was a death warrant.

 The little ship they had taken was not meant to go much further than around the cape but they had set out for sea with no choice. They had with them five men and a woman, of whom only two were well enough to take up oar, not counting the Witcher who had rowed them the first half hour from shore nearly on his own with eyes blacker than coal.

 The Witcher rested now though, so much as he could with his life burning on the shore.

 “We will die out here.” The Jarl said, voice was devoid of emotion. Gerd looked to his friend’s face then, to his lover’s eyes. The anger, the      grief    , all the emotions he had expected were nowhere to be found.

 “No.” Gerd replied, “we will live. We will see them pay for this and you      will     see it rebuilt.” He received no answer, no acknowledgement as the jarl’s hand did not return the gentle pressure that he put upon it. Gerd looked at the island they were sailing from, the land they may never get to set foot on again.

 They would live; he would accept no other outcome.

 ~seven days~

 For seven days the ship rocked, sailing for some imagined safe haven on the mainland but without hope or half a crew. One man had succumbed to his wounds on the first dawn and another had followed two evenings after. Torgeir had said nary a word since his ominous assertion of their fate, his leg had steadily grown worse over the days and it left him with little ability to do more than lay down and sleep. When awake he stared across the sea as if expecting death to appear to him with an outstretched hand.

 Gerd had taken over easily enough, tucked Torgeir into the captain's quarters and spent both days and nights looking for either a miracle or their end.

 On the seventh day it came to them in the form of a ship thrice their size. No man aboard their own was fit to fight but still Gerd drew his steel and braced himself. The dark hull of the incoming vessel felt like an omen and he was flanked by Andrea and Koll, the only two who remained in good health- though weak from hunger they would die on their feet. Of that they were sure.

 A figure leaned over the edge of the ship above, their back was to the sun and so Gerd could not discern any features.           “Are you in need of assistance?” The voice was, clearly, not Nilfgardian and that alone was enough for the man on Gerd’s left to sag. Andrea looked to the Witcher, her eyes wide and hopeful.

     Please, let this be a mercy.  

 “Yes!” He called up. “We are!”

 The ship called itself a merchant’s vessel though a pirate’s den is what it looked. They had been pulled aboard with canvas and rope, the men of the ship quick to provide them with fresh water and food while their medic checked each refugee for wounds. If the crew were upset to have a witcher in their midst they did not voice it. Their captain was nowhere to be seen.

 “Oh dear.” The medic said, in his hands were the bandages that Gerd had re-applied to Torgeir’s leg on the third day of their voyage, made from scraps of a shirt found in the captain’s chest.. The odor once they were removed turned even the Witcher’s stomach. “I need a knife.” Gerd tensed but produced his own blade, edging closer to see what was going on.

 Torgeir was sweating, his skin deathly pale and feverish as he had been for the last day. In that moment though the jarl’s eyes were wide open- “Where’s Gerd?” It was slow and slurred but clear enough.

 “I’m here, Torgeir.” He sank to his knees and took one scarred hand in his own. With his other hand he brushed the tangled mess of the jarl’s hair back from his forehead. The infection was nasty, but it hadn’t spread far. He smiled though surely it was more of a grimace, “Just here.” It took all his strength not to snatch the medic by his throat when the knife began to cut away flesh. It took nothing at all to blame himself for the state of the wound. He was a witcher, he should have known better.

     You had nothing on hand to help. You did what you could.    He reminded himself. It could have been much worse, the beam that had splintered and slashed the jarl’s thigh had nearly taken his head instead.

 Green eyes rolled back and the man’s labored breathing evened.          “Witcher?” The medic hedged, “I’ve patched what I can but he will need someone to keep an eye on the wound. We’re still some ways away from the next port but we’ll find a proper healer there.”

 “I’ll look after him. Thank you…” he pushed himself to his feet. “Where is your captain?” The men pointed him across the deck to where a slight man was coiling rope, seemingly unconcerned with the new arrivals. He was dressed in a loose fitting shirt and a pair of garish calico pants.

 “Cap’n.”

 The supposed captain turned and Gerd’s first impression of the man was ‘pretty’. He had light brown hair and blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was handsome in a plain sort of way, surely a charmer in any tavern he wished. The bear’s second impression was      Witcher.    Which couldn’t have been right.

 There was no such thing as a blue eyed Witcher.

 “Jerome Moreau.” The man-maybe witcher introduced himself as he passed the rope off to a deckhand. At the silence he continued, “Maybe we should speak somewhere private.”  Gerd followed him across deck, listening to the slow beat of his heart. The captain’s quarters were decently large and Gerd had the ability to put space between himself and ‘Jerome’ once the door was closed and the lantern lit.

 “As I said, I’m Jerome School of the Griffin.”

 He wasn’t sure       why     he snapped. Perhaps it was the time at sea, trying to hold together men on the brink of death while the only one who he could have turned to for help laid on a cot in pain. Perhaps it was how long it had been since he’d seen another of his kind. Perhaps he simply needed to hit something to keep his meager sanity. Perhaps, it was because there were no witchers with blue eyes.

 It was a laughably short fight. An      embarrassingly    short fight that Arnaghaf himself would have thrown Gerd from the highest mountain peak should he have witnessed it in his youth. Seven days at sea with limited water and only small bites of food to stop the hunger pains had done him no favors: against a man he would have been fine, perhaps even against two or three by sheer luck of size. But against a witcher? He hadn’t stood a chance. The Griffin-turned-pirate ducked his blow and tripped him backwards, before he could hit the floor a strong hand pushed against his chest and slammed him against the wall, pinned him there on the floor while the stranger watched him with those      blue    eyes. Jerome bared his teeth and Gerd found himself far too close to fangs unlike any he’d seen before, a feral snarl tore from the other’s chest like a beast. It was a sound that the bear could do without hearing ever again. But, just as quickly as the anger came, it left and the Griffin spoke softly,

 “I am not your enemy. Do not bring such strife onto my ship or I will not hesitate to feed you to the first kraken that threatens us. You and your men have been through a lot; I can see that.” Jerome shifted back on his heels and eased the pressure on Gerd’s chest. “If I cared about having another Witcher on board I would have left you to die. We Griffins are not quite as fickle as your lot.” he smiled as if sharing a joke. “Well, you are here, so tell me your name.”

 “Gerd.”

 “And your friend is Torgeir the Red then.” The Griffin moved away so that they were both sitting on the floor, Jerome with crossed legs and Gerd with legs akimbo from his fall. “Don’t worry, your safety on this ship is assured so long as I’m alive. We’ll reach a port in a week’s time, you’re welcome to go ashore and we won’t expect any payment for our help; though we’ll discuss other options later. For now, I think it best if you have a meal and rest. You can answer my questions once things have settled.” It was a very one sided conversation but Gerd had both too many questions to begin with and not near enough energy to ask them. If most of them were about the captain himself? Well,

 He was a strange thing, even for a witcher.

 Gerd was given a water skin for himself and Torgeir and the captain put them in a private room that was used to store trade cargo. It was empty for the next weeks, as had been explained to him by a young lad, and therefore made for a good place to rest. An extra cot had been dragged within. Torgeir’s fever broke after some hours and in the darkness Gerd watched him crawl from his heavy slumber. He hadn’t allowed him to get a word out before pressing the water skin to his lips.

 “Drink.” He urged and the skin was nearly empty by the time Torgeir pushed his hand away.

 “Where are we?” The room was black as pitch once the sun went down.          “A ship came through to help us. We’re a week from port. Your leg… we’ll get you medicine for it soon.”          “What?” Torgeir asked.          “Fucking thing got infected. They’ve got a decent healer on board though. Stitched it up fairly nice.”

 “Fucking great-” the red head pushed himself up and Gerd was quick to move closer and support him. “The others?”          “We lost Ragnar and Beorn. The others are having dinner and resting. No sign of Nilfgaard chasing us so far.” With his lover awake and clear eyed Gerd felt the weight of the last week and a half hit him in full force. His eyes drooped and he began to list to the side like a sinking ship.

 Torgeir shifted and pressed their shoulders together more firmly. “Come on, y’ bastard. Lay down.”          “Can’t.”          “You said we’re as safe as we can get. When’s the last time you slept?” Torgeir’s hand squeezed his thigh, kitten weak compared to what it should have been. When Gerd didn’t have an answer for him the jarl sighed. “Tha’s what I thought.” Gerd let himself be poked and prodded until he was reclined against the hull of the ship with rags and old feed bags piled behind him as a comfort. One leg stretched out in front of his while the other hung over the side of the cot, Torgeir laid between them. It was a familiar enough position even if the environment around them was not.  He had planned to meditate again, afraid that if he slept then he would not wake for quite some time,  but the moment that he had Torgeir’s weight against his chest his eyes closed and sleep dragged him under.

 He woke when light spilled across his face, feeling only half as rested as he should have and mortified that he hadn’t been able to fight off the slumber.

 Jerome was standing in the doorway, a white shirt half open across his chest and a look on his face that was far too soft. “Your crew demanded that I bring you something to break fast with. Andrea, I believe? She said that if you didn’t take it, I should send her in here in my place.” Again, that smile graced his lips. “I can leave it here and let you sleep.” It sounded good, to be able to close his eyes once more and sink into slumber. Perhaps to wake only when they were docked. He extended a hand instead.

 “I’ll take it.” They were hunted men for all he knew. They would need their strength.

 “Good,” as witchers they did not need to light an oil lantern and Jerome closed the door behind himself, some sunlight crept in from above. “While none here should voice any judgement, I would advise you to keep any overtly forward displays within this room or in my study should you need it. My men are good but they have loose lips in port, drunkards are not half as lovely.”

 Gerd was handed bread and a bowl of thin porridge. It was meager for a man his size and even more so for two. But, they were a week from port and The Hawksea, as the Griffin’s ship was called, had not been prepared for five more bodies on board. Particularly not those of warriors and witchers.

 “Thank you.” The words were rough.

 “Don’t mention it. I’ll be putting you to work before long. Lots of things to do here that could use a witcher’s strength.” Jerome sat on a crate, one leg pulled up to his chest with his arm draped over it. “Can’t have any freeloading going on, might start talk of mutiny.” His eyes crinkled at the edges as if he’d spent a lifetime laughing rather than fighting monsters. Maybe he had, with a face like that.

 “I thought you Griffins were supposed to be chivalrous bastards.” Gerd grunted.

 “Chivalrous? Yes. Bastard? Most certainly.” Those fangs were flashed at him again. “I was under the impression you bears were the loner sorts.”

 “We are.” Gerd didn’t miss the way Jerome’s eyes lingered on the redhead asleep on his chest. Caught even longer on the scarred arm wrapped around the human like a shield.

 The Griffin hummed, “I see.”

 The witcher left them alone with their breakfast and somewhere above them a man began to sing.

[lastluvbug]

Oh my god I read the one about Kalim’s suicide after waking up and got emotional all morning. The angst hurts but I can’t have enough of your writings. Can I have a continuation of it, with Kalim’s friends (the second years, the light music club, even Vil) after the whole thing? Like they try to go on with their life but it’s clear that nothing’s the same anymore and they miss the sunshine boy more than they thought they would? Thank you so much!

Toxins (Part 2)

Here we are, love! Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Language, referenced suicide

Crying wasn’t like Cater.

But after Kalim’s school-held funeral, that was all anyone could ever see him doing.

Oftentimes, it was silent sobbing into his hands, makeup streaked and runny, hiccups stifled. Comfort did little to provide solace, as he’d simply wipe away the water still leaking from his eyes, smile, and pretend like nothing ever happened. By the outside... it almost appeared as if nothing had ever happened. He was still as camera addicted as usual, still attended class and mingled with his fellow students.

The only difference was perhaps the breaks he had to take between every period, when he’d run to the bathroom to clear his eyes of the built up liquid they’d collected, or maybe it was the way his laughter felt dull, robotic even, or the way he began eating bigger and bigger portions at mealtimes. No one batted an eyelash at Cater when he had to be wrestled out of the mess hall by Trey, who already had himself busy with tending to a Riddle Rosehearts who’d become increasingly strict in upholding the Heartslabyul rules once again.

The serene noiselessness that enveloped the Music Room seemed all but soothing, a vacant memory filled with empty afterthoughts of what it used to be.

Sitting before Kalim’s abandoned drum set, Cater stared at his foggy reflection in the suspended cymbals, inept hands clutching drumsticks that should’ve been used to make a song. Eyes slitted, Cater cried once more, beads of translucent agony dripping onto the forgotten brass.

“...Cater? What are you doing here?”

The ginger looked up stiffly, the lights flicking into action as he made brief visual contact with the last remaining member of his club, Lilia Vanrouge. The shorter tilted his head slightly, standing at the foot of the door, as Cater exhaled a breathy laugh like he’d been so accustomed to doing. “Lilia... I just... needed some time alone, is all. Nothing to worry about.” He grinned, betraying the droplets that formed pretty trails over his visage.

“It’s... It’s about Kalim, isn’t it?” Lilia prodded, voice low as he stepped fully into the room. He didn’t require a reply, as Cater’s sagged shoulders and clutched drumsticks revealed everything he wanted to say. Solemnly hanging his head, Diasomnia’s vice lumbered over to his grieving peer, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“It’s not fair...!” Cater wailed before Lilia had even touched him. “Kalim, he’s—he’s not here anymore, and it seems like I’m the only who cares! He was suffering, so much... and I didn’t... didn’t have the brain to see it!”

Lilia’s wide magenta orbs locked onto the weeping boy, whose blood red diamond had nearly been washed away thanks to the water pouring over it. Kneeling, he gripped his shoulders firmly, forcing Cater to meet his stare. “Cater, you can’t blame yourself for this. You couldn’t have known what he was feeling, none of us could. It’s a tragic thing, to have lost someone full of so much light, but you have to understand that—“

“...You don’t get it either... didn’t he mean anything to you people?!” Lilia froze midsentence, his hands pushed away harshly. “Why? Why am I the only one who cries over him?! I didn’t even know him that well... but I don’t want Kalim to be forgotten! I don’t want to wake up everyday, knowing he’ll never speak to me again! Never make music, with these stupid sticks!” He lamented, tossing said drumsticks away, the carved wood skidding across the hard flooring.

Draping his palms over his face, Cater sniffled, Lilia speechless on his knees. Huffing a petulant sigh, the ages-old student spoke quietly, as if afraid to shatter the glass he knew he treaded upon. “Cater, in all my years... I’ve seen my fair amount of demises.”

“H... Huh?” Cater stopped, makeup-blackened tears ceasing as well.

“I’ve had to watch friends, loved ones, even family, fall. Some by the hands of fate, and some by their very own. And thus, I’ve seen how humans react when it comes to such occurrences. You aren’t the only one who cries over the loss of Kalim, I guarantee it.”

“Th-That’s...” He trailed off, squeezing his eyes shut. “That’s not true! Riddle does nothing but hole himself away in his room and behead people anymore! You can’t call that coping!”

Lilia stared him in the eye, words frank and pithy. “Cater, tell me, what do you think he does behind those closed doors? Why do you think he’s become so sensitive to even the smallest of mistakes?”

“Because...! Because...” Cater caught himself, finding that he had no answer to retort with. “...I don’t... I don’t know.” He responded after a pause, holding his head in his hands.

“This is Riddle’s way of coping. Kalim was a dear classmate to him, and now, there’s no getting him back. He’s gone, we have to live with that truth.”

“Then what about you?! Why aren’t you reacting at all? Wasn’t he a dear clubmate to you?” Cater shot, voice thick with emotion as he felt the weight of Lilia’s authenticity asphyxiate him.

“Simply because I know that wherever Kalim is now, he’s happy,” he smiled softly, folding his hands in his lap, “I didn’t know that Kalim was suffering so, but now he’s cradled by the arms that come past death. He can finally rest easy, the way he was meant to in the first place.”

Cater looked down to Lilia, glassy eyes widening to see the glittery tears that pooled in the corners of the other’s, a soft smile at his lips. For a split moment, Cater could see no one but Kalim as Lilia opened his arms, amaranth streaked hair and magenta eyes shifting into pure white and candy red.

Hiccuping, Cater fell from the seat before the drums and onto his knees, being carefully pulled to Lilia’s smaller, yet wonderfully soft frame. Hit like a bag of bricks to the stomach, misery stole Cater’s oxygen as he sobbed, clinging to Lilia like a petrified animal.

“Don’t worry guys! We’ll do great at the performance tomorrow!”

“Keep it up, Cater! You sound amazing, just one more practice song!”

“Oh, a picture? I want in! Haha, cheese!”

Kalim’s childish voice echoed in the room, the ghost of a caress against his cheeks making the ginger bury himself under his peer’s chin. He felt as if he’d never forgive himself for overlooking Kalim’s pain, every heartfelt compliment or encouragement from him becoming bland and tasteless upon the realization that they were all empty words, meant to fill him up with false courage.

“Cater, he may be gone, but as long as he stays tucked in here,” Lilia tapped on his head, stroking his messy orange hair, “the magic will keep his memory alive. That’s perhaps the best gift we can give him; the guarantee that he won’t be forgotten. Not as long as you, and I, remember him, right?”

Cater inhaled a quivering breath, nodding as he parted from Lilia’s warm arms. “R-Right...” He nodded, using the back of his hands to clear away his streaked makeup, leaving a smudged mess instead.

“Let’s get you back to Heartslabyul. It sounds to me as if you could use a little conversation with your dorm leader.” Lilia prompted, standing and offering his hand, to which Cater accepted.

“If I must... oh! I need to get those first!” He cried, spinning on his heel and traipsing over to the discarded drumsticks. “I’ll keep them safe for him.” He grinned, earning a sly smirk from Lilia, who now stood outside of the club room.

Joining him, Cater sent a glance over the lone drum set, replaying the times from when Kalim would lean over them with a smile, waving as he entered, guitar strapped across his back. It didn’t hurt any less, but it reminded him that somewhere out there, Kalim was waiting for him, for that day when he’d return his drumsticks.

Switching the lights off, Cater shut the door cautiously, heart simultaneously lifted and sinking as he left, those invisible hands drifting away as he strode farther from the Music Room.

<————>

Treading down the busy hallway felt more like wading through swamp water to Silver, each student seeming to obstruct his path in any way they could.

Heading by the open walled courtyard, the grey haired Diasomnia boy’s gaze softened, looking to the vacant blue sky holding the warm sun as it’s only attraction. Running a finger over the rim of his grasped textbook, Silver sighed out of a brew containing both frustration and awe, feet instinctively guiding him about the corridors as his mind wandered elsewhere.

Every single waking day had been the shining example of a picture perfect storytelling, like something that had hopped from the pages of a fairytale since Kalim’s overcrowded funeral. No rain, no clouds, just the pure sky and the giggling sun.

Silver had half of a mind to call it unfair, for a tragedy to be celebrated and honored with such weather. Though, he had to admit he didn’t know Kalim as well as he wished. The boy had waltzed into and out of his life with alarming ease, both of them sharing the same class together and bonding over their blatantly oppositional personalities. If it weren’t for Kalim’s persistence, Silver probably wouldn’t have even remembered his name, let alone dig himself deep enough to call him a friend.

After his passing, Silver’s academic world just went... dull, following the same drearily tedious routine, and beginning to fall behind in even the most basic of lessons, simply because he found it impossible to keep himself awake for more than five minutes at a time.

Kalim had been the one to help him in class, had been the one to discover how to shake him to consciousness, both physically and mentally. Whenever Kalim was around, Silver wanted to skip his unhealthily long naps, painstakingly addicted to the boy’s light that practically radiated from him, filling any room he set foot in with warm magic.

Now that he laid still, taken by the hand of never ending slumber, Silver felt blank, like he was caged in the perpetual state of an emotional reset that declined progression.

So lost sorting through his muddled mind, Silver nearly fell backwards as he slammed headfirst into something firm, making his eyes water as he rubbed the liquid away, a yawn escaping his throat. “Hah? What’s this?” Growled a scratchy voice, making Silver snap to attention. He came face to face with a brawny Savanclaw lackey, a freakish two heads taller than Silver, the student nearly shrinking into a ball at the murderous glare sent down his direction. “Ah, it’s one of those Diasomnia pricks. What, beating us to a pulp in Magift and trampling over our test scores isn’t enough? Now you gotta own the whole damn hallway?”

“H-Hey, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about... If I could just—“ Silver attempted to reason, trying to get past the wall of muscled students, all bigger and stronger than him.

“You wanna play dumb now?” The other rasped, grabbing Silver by the collar of his uniform and lifting him in the air as he stalked dangerously close. “Listen here, bastard, just because my dorm leader tucks his tail at the sight of you doesn’t mean I’ll do the same! I have no idea who you think you are, but to me, you’re no better than baby cats who yip—“

“Alrighty fellas, that’s quite enough!”

Twisting with what little leeway available to him, Silver found the source of the voice to be Ruggie Bucchi, another member of the beastly dorm. “Ruggie? The hell do you think you’re doing?” The bigger boy barked, tightening his grip on Silver.

Crossing his arms and smiling slyly, Ruggie marched over to him, not an ounce of fear on his baby-face. “Look at him, bud. The poor guy’s practically shaking in his shoes! I think you’ve done enough to scare him, so put him down, you’re tarnishing the Savanaclaw name.”

“Enough? He ran into me! If I don’t threaten him now, then who’s gonna put him in his place later?!”

Ruggie clucked his tongue, floppy ears twitching in annoyance. “Let’s get one thing straight here; you weren’t threatening him, you were aggressively complaining. First, comparing him to a baby cat, which by the way, would be called a kitten, is neither intimidating nor masculine. Second, dangling him in the air like a doll proves nothing more than what you lack in brain, you make up for in brawn, hence why you’re practically a brick wall of muscle. Third, if you’re going to threaten someone, do it properly, you brutish simpleton.” Ruggie smirked, standing on his tip toes as he narrowed his eyes.

“Now, I suggest you tuck tail and scram before you show everyone here that you’re as composed as a bitch in heat.” He threatened, hands on his hips as the animalistic boy’s ears drooped, heeding the maliciously ingenious hyena and dropping Silver, who was close to choking thanks to the constricting pressure on his throat. Legs too weak to stabilize his body, he collapsed in a heap on the ground, textbook flying a few feet away, hacking his lungs out while trying to drink the sweetly refreshing air.

After the roughly uncivilized students scampered off, whispering curses and profanity Ruggie scoffed at, he huffed, bouncing over to Silver and extending a single gloved hand. “Um... you okay? They didn’t hurt you, right?” He asked.

Spluttering into his elbow, Silver took the hand, brushing the dust off of his black school suit and suppressing the yawn that fought to rise in his newly released esophagus. “...I’m fine. Thanks for the save...” He bowed awkwardly, avoiding the shorter’s stare. Without anything left to say, he stood turning away. “See you.” He sluggishly bid, starting to leave.

Ruggie was inches away from letting him go, until he tossed his glance to the floor, noticing the thick book fallen face first a few steps from him. Scooping it up, he flipped through a few of the pages, hoping to find something interestingly personal before returning it to the original owner. What he found was... beyond what he’d imagined.

It was a history textbook, the very first page carrying Silver’s signature, a cursive so intricate, it bordered calligraphy with all of its whorls and intercepting lines. At a glance, it didn’t look anything worthwhile, a few scribbled notes here and there but nothing out of the ordinary. Secrets weren’t revealed until Ruggie flipped to the center of the book, his normally neutral face contorting out of shock and intrigue.

The writing on the edges of the paper, where the fine print of knowledge past left indents and gaps of white space lay, were little notes penned in two vastly different handwritings, one quite obviously belonging to Silver. The other was unrecognizable to Ruggie, but reading the script was what led to him the creator.

“Silver-kun, Silver-kuuuuun! Did you hear what Trein said? I was too busy doodling!!”

“Kalim, you’re going to fail the class if you keep nodding off, y’know.”

“Yeah, I know I know..... but at least I stay awake most of the time!”

“Pssh, so mean, using that against me! Sit with me at lunch today, and maybe I’ll share my notes.”

“Oh! Alright, Silver!”

Ruggie was blown away by the authored conversation he stumbled upon, reminded of the distance growing between owner and eavesdropper as he sent a startled look up from the book. “H-Hey! Silver!” He called, having learned the sleepy Diasomnia student’s name.

The other paused, looking over his shoulder to watch as Ruggie weaved through the river of people, holding out the textbook once he’d managed to stand beside the grey haired. “You dropped this back there... it is yours, isn’t it?” He asked, feigning an ignorance Silver doubted.

“Yes, thank you very much. But... how did you know my name?”

“Eh, you’re from Diasomnia. I bet the whole corridor of people here know your name.” Ruggie waved, almost sweat dropping.

“...If you say so. Thank you for returning my book... I’ll be out of your hair now.” The other sighed, tucking said book under his arm while wearing an expression that simply felt subdued.

“Ah—wait! I’m pretty sure you’re a second year, can I walk you to class? Wouldn’t want to run into someone again, right?” Ruggie wasn’t given a verbal response, only a hitch in Silver’s movements and a mild nod.

With his arms fanned out from his head, Ruggie walked alongside the enigmatic teen, who remained eerily silent, his hazy eyes and apathetic stare giving him the hint that he was lost deep in thought, a thought that must’ve been distasteful. All too altruistically eager to break the silence, Ruggie brought up thr only topic that seemed to occupy anyone’s mind. “So... you were friends with Kalim?”

Silver flinched, directly halting in his tracks, eyes hidden by his overgrown bangs. “W-What... What did you know about him?” He asked, the flow of students never once ceasing around them.

“I... well, other than the fact that he was rich... not much.” Ruggie admitted, fiddling with an ear.

“That’s it? That’s all you knew about him, even as a second year yourself?”

“Wait, how did you—?”

“He talked about you like you were some kind of idol. He talked about everyone that way.” Silver whispered, eyes still hidden. “He was what everyone wanted to be, the only real person here who didn’t carry any ill intentions for anyone. Even that Viper, who used him for what? Years?” He continued, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt.

Ruggie had nothing to say. What could he say? Kalim, to him at least, was a fun acquaintance, a buddy he’d occasionally fall back on for spare change or home cooked meals, of which were made by Jamil Viper, the Viper that Silver was quite obviously placing the entirety of the blame upon.

While drama wasn’t something Ruggie was aiming to stir up, the hyena had to admit... he didn’t find anything Jamil did to be wrong. Kalim had ideas, grand as they may be, but he hadn’t the skill or the focus to execute them, pushing the work onto Jamil and Jamil alone. Ruggie saw no problem with the vice using his talent the way he did.

“I wonder how he feels now... knowing that he’s the one who drove Kalim to such measures. But... I can’t say I’m any better. How could I have been so ignorant...? I may as well have damned him to death too, watching him deteriorate every day. Watching him... fake that cheery smile, and never doing a thing about it.” Silver seemed to be working himself into a craze, hands covering his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hey, don’t take this on yourself y’know...”

“Why not? Tell me Ruggie, why. Not? My ignorance is what killed him, and now, I have to sit through class after class after class of reminders. Reminders of how I failed my duty to—“

“Geez, you’re annoying,”

“H... Huh?” Silver froze, finally opening his eyes to meet Ruggie’s cheeky grin.

Ruggie offered no explanation as he grabbed a hand, dragging him off through the hallway. “I may not be the best at comforting, and I’m certainly no Kalim, but... I think it’ll be okay. That’s what he liked to say, right? Yeah, he’s not here anymore, but are you really going to let what he believed in die?”

Struck speechless similarly to his rockstar guardian, Silver gaped like a fish out of water, silently allowing Ruggie to pull him along. “He knew there was good in everyone,” Except himself, Ruggie thought, but had the brain to hold his tongue, “he’d want you to move on, to love in his place. This, what you’re feeling now, is the farthest thing from what he wanted. So... you should smile. You can live without Kalim, you’re stronger than that.”

Ruggie stopped, a few steps away from Silver’s designated classroom, holding his clutched hand up as he spoke, smiling gently, like he actually believed the speech he by chance strung together. Still, any excuse for a better hope was a good one to Silver, so, he ducked his head, forcing out giggles that after a minute, ended up too real. “U-Uh... did I say something funny?” Ruggie stammered, eyes wide in confusion.

“No, it’s just—“ Silver let go of Ruggie, lavender eyes shiny with the aftermath of laughter, “—you remind me of him.”

Ruggie flushed, turning red to his ears as he spun away, covering his mouth and pretending to cough. “Y-Yeah, sure, whatever. Come on, let’s get you to class!”

Chuckling, Silver sped up to close the rapidly growing space between them, running a clammy hand through his argent hair. In complete honesty, he meant what he’d said.

Albeit too assiduous and orderly to be a carbon copy, Ruggie held one same trait that so painfully reminded him of Kalim; his confidence. While Kalim was a leader, Ruggie preferred to follow. While Kalim was extravagantly grandiose, Ruggie was self-effacing and simple. While Kalim had dreams of far off lands and magic carpet rides, Ruggie stayed firmly planted on the ground.

But for certain, the one thing they both shared the same substantial confidence to just... be themselves.

And it was that confidence that made Silver wish to cling to Ruggie, protect the light that he failed to do before.

“Oi! Silver! You coming?” Ruggie called hands on his knees as he waved from further down the hall.

“Hm? Oh, yes, yes I’m coming!” Silver smile back, having realized he stood alone in the middle of the passage. Once again dashing to join the hyena, Silver made a vow, a vow that no one would hear other than himself.

“I promise Kalim, I’m not forgetting you. I’ll never forget you. But this time... this time I want to do things right.”

<————>

The rushing of water from the tap was the sole sound in the Mostro Lounge, accentuated only by the brisk chill that followed the lifeless restaurant-esque space.

It’d been that way since morning, the hollow flooring catching the footsteps that walked over it and tossing the sound against the walls, creating an echo Floyd Leech didn’t think was possible, what with the amount of furniture and decor lined about. Switching off the water, and the only audible commotion in the lounge, he tossed himself onto a stool before the polished bar, setting his hat aside as he laid his head within his large, white gloved hands. A sigh escaped him as he threaded his fingers through his deep teal hair, almost feeling as though he was glued to his seat.

Despite the deafening quiet that would blow any normal person’s eardrums out, Floyd closed his eyes, heavy from premature exhaustion, and heard not the empty silence, but instead voices. More specifically, he heard Kalim’s voice; his cheering, the laughs and giggles that seemed reserved for Floyd and Floyd exclusively, even his sobs after he was thrown across the desert by one of his trusted companions.

Swimming through the sea of his memories made his eyes burn with an indescribable solemnity, his hands tugging rather roughly at his hair as the memories grew into a thousand pictures behind his shut eyelids, each of them painting Kalim an angel in all of his bubbly optimism. And while Floyd was naturally agile in water, even he found himself drowning in the sorrow that replaced a past stemmed from charm and delight.

Broken like a hammer through glass, he was all but ripped from the isolation of his over imaginative brain by the doors of the Lounge being thrown open, the conversation of the two welcoming themselves in drifting over to his sensitive ears. He paid them no heed as he slumped on the bar counter, inexplicably cold while heartache whittled away at his chest.

“Ah, Floyd. Jade and I were just discussing, and there’s been an alarming drop in the amount of customers attending— Floyd?” Azul faltered, cutting his debriefing short as he noticed the state of the lithe eel.

Hunched over, head collected in his hands as he carded his fingers through his hair, Floyd looked the model of a kicked puppy, not a trace of his carefree smile on his lips. Beyond confused, Azul turned to Jade, who simply folded his hands and smiled politely, mincing over to his brother.

Jade didn’t need to do too much investigation to find the source of Floyd’s troubles, already knowing full well that the reverse of his brother’s attitude was a byproduct of Kalim Al-Asim’s death. The funeral was what sealed the transformation, Floyd’s laugh disappearing altogether as he turned away from the outside world, whether he was aware of it or not. Most days, he tucked himself away in the Mostro Lounge, polishing the same glass until in could be used as a mirror, or staring blankly into the distance, becoming especially clingy to both Jade and Azul. Any prodding was met with a lackluster response, any attempts to push him towards re-venturing back into the convoluted world of society with dejected refusals.

Sitting in the stool beside the mourning boy, Jade reached out, settling his hand on Floyd’s back as the other jumped at the touch. “Floyd?” He asked, earning his brother’s familiar glazed attention.

“Jade...? Oh, Azul, too... I’m sorry, did I do something wrong~? You guys look like you’ve seen a ghost...” He laughed unimpressively, placid smile not quite reaching his dual colored eyes.

“Floyd, please explain what is troubling you. I hate seeing my brother this way.” Jade pleaded, leaning on a fist as he expectantly stared at him.

“E-Eh? Where’d you guys get that idea from? Hehe, I’m alright, Azul, Jade.”

“No, Floyd, you’re not. As your colleague and friend, I ask that you indulge us on your turmoil.” Azul chimed in at Floyd’s nonchalant display, years of memorizing his roller coaster-like moods revealing the cracks in his façade.

Drooping defeatedly, his smile vanished as he fell onto the counter, tracing imaginary shapes into the smooth marble. “I... I miss him...” Floyd whispered, only audible because of the noiselessness.

Jade perked up, sharing a pitiful look with Azul before rubbing circles onto Floyd’s back. “You’re referring to Kalim, correct?”

The other nodded, sighing heavily as he hazed blankly at the positively reflective surface below him. “It’s—I just can’t... wrap my head around the fact that he’s gone... Sea Otter is gone, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” He said quietly, the sting in his eyes returning as he swallowed thickly.

Azul tipped his hat as Jade’s circles ceased. The passing of Kalim hadn’t particularly affected Azul, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It, at the very least, was supposed to attract more customers, in need of a distraction in the form of fine food and drinks. But for Floyd to have lost his spark... the cogs in Azul’s brain couldn’t comprehend how the two had even managed to become close after Jamil’s overblot.

“I remember,” Floyd started, sliding a thin finger over the edge of the counter, “how he used to laugh at everything. Sea Otter was so energetic~! Always bouncing to and fro, like a hyper little siren. When did... when did that all stop? Why did it all stop? Is it a curse from land-dwellers to feel this way...?” Floyd asked his friends, seeking genuine answers to his inquiries.

“Floyd, what you are feeling is grief. You are mourning over the loss of a... a comrade.” Jade hesitated, speech for once unrehearsed.

“But he was more than a comrade to me, Jade! I didn’t feel so... out of place with Kalim. He embraced the world around him, in all of it’s cruelty, with open arms. I don’t get it! He—he... he...!” Floyd wavered, hand reaching up to prod at his gold eye, which now spilled thin water over the rim of his cheekbones.

He was... crying? Why was he crying? Wasn’t that something said to be impossible for merfolk to accomplish?

“Hey, Azul... what’s this?” He asked with a joyless laugh. “Am I melting...?” He smiled bitterly, the current dribbling down in an irritatingly slow pace.

Not half a second was given to Floyd before he was enveloped by two arms, in all of their lissome strength. Azul couldn’t think of another thing to do; he’d never seen him genuinely cry before. “No, you’re not melting, Floyd.” The hug was stiff, the tallest eel’s hands on the edge of his seat while water scattered about.

“I’m scared, Azul...” he whined, sniffling. Jade flinched, the downright hopelessness of Floyd’s tone striking a place in his heart that nearly brought him to tears as well. “I can’t—I can’t lose you two. I can’t. Please, promise you won’t leave me, like Sea Otter did?” The very thought of being alone was enough to bring Floyd to trembles, was enough for him to toss away his pride as he looked to his brother, his friend.

Moving as swiftly as the flowing waters of the sea, Jade lifted himself from his seat, twining his arms around both Azul and Floyd, most of the focus turned towards the latter. “Don’t be ridiculous. As your brother, it is my responsibility to always be by your side. Always. The death of a friend doesn’t change that, nor will anything else.” Jade soothed, pressing his forehead to Floyd’s.

“Ah, Jade is right. While I may not share familial ties, I believe it is my duty to stay with you two. After all, who else would have the impertinence to stand up to your spontaneity, Floyd? Certainly no one from around here, I’ll say that much.” Azul added, earning a chuckle from the comforted.

“So... it’s a promise then? You won’t leave me?”

“Never,” Jade and Azul replied confidently, successfully sealing off the last of Floyd’s tears as he used his gloves to soak up the excess.

Finally returning the hug with ten times the force, Floyd sighed out of relief. Though, he still felt the incomparable pang of gloom over the loss of one of his companions, the twang was cushioned by the soft words of his near-family, their eager reminder that even if their world was changing, they’d have one another to rely on.

Nothing could replace a life, Floyd knew that eerily too well, but that doesn’t mean that he couldn’t move on. It might take a week, it might take a year, but as long as he still had them to guide him, then maybe the pain would ebb away in a matter of months.

With their promise written across the slate of his heart, Floyd let his laughter splash across the lounge.

Some part of him felt that if Kalim could see him, hear him right now, he’d been laughing too.

<————>

“Roi de Poison, may I come in?”

“Door’s unlocked, Rook.”

Granted access by the curt invitation, Rook welcomed himself into Vil’s room, having returned from yet another rowdy wrangling session of dealing with Epel. The blonde was expecting to see his dorm leader fussing over his presentation, either in the form of reestablishing his blade sharp cosmetics, or redoing his naturally flawless locks. Instead, he was met with a scene that broke his fully enchanted heart, the magical symphony in his ears screeching to a halt.

Vil sat at his elegantly carved vanity, a thick book with yellowed pages flipped to somewhere close to the center spread before him, twisting an equally as golden bottle in his hand while the other tousled his loose hair, free of it’s usual braided crown. What perhaps made Rook double-take the most was the all natural look Vil wore, the tips of his nose and ears dyed an unhealthy red as not a smear of makeup hid the semi-wet trails reflected in the spotless mirror.

“Vil? Fairest, what ever is the matter?” Rook inquired hastily, skidding over to the beauty’s side and kneeling before him, feathered hat temporarily set on the floor while his head of canary hair still rose beyond the edge of the vanity table. “Vil...?”

“Do you know... what this is, Rook?” Vil asked out of the blue, holding the golden vial to the light.

“...If I had to guess, I’d say that would be an antidote.” Rook responded, having studied nearly as hard as Vil on the subject of poisons and cures.

“Correct. This... This is the antidote that could’ve saved him. I could’ve saved him.” Rook could taste the burn of Vil’s self doubt, the blame he took upon his shoulders as he desperately tried to look into Vil’s lavender irises.

“Non, Vil. It’s been said before, and I’ll not stutter when I say it again. You cannot control anyone but yourself. What Kalim did was of his own volition, you could not have done a thing to prevent it.”

“Do not lie to me, Rook Hunt!” Vil shrieked, rattling the table after he slammed his fist onto it. “If it weren’t for the poison I handcrafted, Kalim would be alive right now! If I would’ve chased after him the minute I realized the bottle was missing, then maybe—no, he would not have had the opportunity to use it! It’s my fault this happened, and now the blood’s on my hands!” Vil shrilled, delicate hands concealing his face.

Struggling to create a refute, Rook placed his hat back onto his head, standing to his full height. Circling behind Vil, he stared into the mirror, at the broken beauty who wallowed in the depths of his own despair before him. He loathed seeing Vil in such a state, poise and elegance replaced with a fiery fury aimed at no one but himself. He couldn’t bear to see him tear himself down.

Exhaling quietly, Rook laid his gloved hands over Vil’s, gently prying them away. Picking up a brush, he let it hover above his mauve-and-platinum hair, only setting it down on his scalp when Vil nodded ever so marginally. “Vil, my king, the fairest of us all, it pains me to no end to see you like this. Do you realize how dishonest it is to harbor this blame?” Rook rhetorically asked, noting the way his green orbs locked with purple for a split moment.

Brushing through the last section of Vil’s thin hair, he set the brush aside, peeling off his gloves to instead grab a comb, folding and looping the strands as he continued to speak. “What Kalim did was out of your jurisdiction. Yes, you may have made the poison, but he was the thief who stole it. Yes, you were too late to have realized it was missing, but had you sent me after him, he would’ve drank it before I could save him.” Rook assured, sealing off the crown and moving onto the next area in need of his expertise.

Lifting Vil’s chin with a curled finger, Rook brought a new besom to his eyes, painting on a deep violet shadow over the lashes, of which he diligently extended with top of the line mascara. Having someone else so casually apply his cosmetics made Vil’s shoulders sag as they released their tension, almost leaning into the affectionate sweeps were it not for his budding insecurity.

“How can you say that when it’s quite obviously my fault?” Vil murmured once his vice paused to reach for a shimmery lipgloss.

“Don’t you see? Kalim would’ve found a way to end his life with, or without your assistance. You were just naive enough to fall for his game, and thus, you now hold within you a guilt that doesn’t belong. Mon ange, let this grief go.” Rook finished, capping the gloss and smiling broadly, waving towards the mirror.

Turning to his reflection, Vil did nothing to hide the satisfied grin that formed, appreciative of the effort the blonde-haired hunter was investing to comfort him. “What if... deep down, I still blame myself, at the end of the day?” He asked, twirling a section of his hair around his painted nail.

“Fret not! I shall sing you lullabies until you can rest soundly at night. This tragedy will be a memory far faded after I’m done!” Rook sang, offering a hand as he bowed.

“Alright, Rook...” Vil chuckled, taking his hand and squaring his shoulders as he stood, balancing on his thin heels. “...I hope you will make use of that promise.”

“Anything for you, Vil. Now let us depart for supper, the dorm was ordered to keep their paws to themselves until you arrived.” Rook urged, spinning over to the door. Swinging it open, he gestured out to the hall, smiling. “Shall we?”

“Indeed. Let’s go.” Vil nodded, clicking out as Rook followed close behind.

Kalim still weighed on his mind, the boy’s peacefully shut eyes as he laid in that glass casket forever an image burned into his brain. He made a dire mistake that day, leaving the poison unguarded in his bathroom, even just creating it in the first place, but Rook helped Vil realize a truth that eased the sting, if only lightly.

He hadn’t known Kalim well, the first full conversation between them only occurring the day of his demise. Part of Vil found solace in the fact that Kalim’s death was quick, a brighter alternative to anything else Kalim would’ve attempted. The other part wept for what his knowledge of poison brought, the pain he’d inflicted on not only Kalim, but the rest of the school in tandem.

Still, holding his head high, Vil wasn’t going to let the suffering crumble him. Antidote clenched in a fist, Vil dropped it in his concealed pocket, the vision of elegance and poise.

Though he may have had a hand in Kalim’s downfall, he wasn’t going to let himself make a foolish mistake like that again.

<————>

Kalim Al-Asim’s death did not come in an ear piercing bang or an uproarious festival. It came not in sweet whispered nothings or love brimmed words. It came not as peaceful or soothing, but by preference spotlighted with nothing except a dark room, a clear night, and the whitest moon the sky had to offer.

Time had been at fowl play, some days passing within the sound snap of a finger, and some lasting for aeons painted in dull colors of anguish and shame. The people were mortified by the discovery, even more so to find that the act hadn’t been committed by the sinful nature of another, but instead the self destructive hatred of himself. Blame had been a projectile, shot into anyone who even held his name inside the confines of their brain, running amongst them like a smooth stone over a pond of ice until there was no one left to terrorize.

The wayward mechanism of coping bore down on everyone, weighing them with ten thousand pounds of a hopelessness they could neither hide nor run from. At their darkest hour, the entire venerated school of Night Raven College was brought to their knees by the passing of optimism personified, their trust a fractured knife used to stab skepticism and condemnation into the hearts of anyone who dared raise their bowed heads.

But even the dark of night must soon come to an end, the sun of a new day bringing a dusk painted in the hues of resumption over a horizon of black. It started with an idea, a finicky thought that grew until it could no longer be held within the sole mind of the creator, escaping from a pair of lips upturned in a rare smile that shortly spread to the listeners.

The idea spread like a contagion, from one to another, dorm to dorm, student to teacher, until every person shared the unison objective, some setting upon a laborious work to meet the desired outcome. Tirelessly, the students used the extents lf the gifts bestowed upon them, whether that be the farthest reaches of magic, or the unique skill to create banquets of delectable food.

It was far from a single day job, many returning to their rooms with sore muscles and blistered hands, the only thing driving them through their hard hours being the vision of the payoff come the conclusion. The prize of their exertion was a spectacle even a stranger would find extraordinarily echanted.

On a pedestal above the normal person’s head, crafted from the best brass up for the taking, stood a perfect recreation of Kalim Al-Asim, each detail scrutinized by the expecting eyes of none other than the mourning Jamil Viper.

Though he took it upon himself to mold the finer minutiae, he accepted every numerous offer of assistance with the bulky creation of the base, sending out handwritten thanks to each participant. Using too many sleepless nights, Jamil poured his strength, his breath, his heart into smoothing out the edges, refining the statue until it looked so real, he wouldn’t have been surprised if it up and moved.

The unveiling had been as palatial as Kalim would’ve wanted it to be; Jamil planning and throwing a celebration that welcomed nearly every resident of the campus, brandishing and explaining the statue in a way that made even Mozus Trein’s heart of steel melt.

Still... standing before it felt surreal, almost sorrowful. Dressed in his dorm garb and clutching his signature staff in his left arm, he waved out to the Scarabia he protected with his free one, a broad smile swelling his cheeks, eyes wide and curious. It had been the students’ choice to place him at the entrance of their dorm, believing Kalim’s face a fitting first sight upon entrance.

Drenched with gold in the early morning light, he smiled angelically as a lone figure knelt before the pedestal, hand tracing over the plaque carved into the stone base.

“I hope... I hope this did you justice. It was all I could give you for now; I know it’s not much, but this way, your legacy will carry on.” Jamil whispered, laying his forehead on the smooth metal.

Though he may not live to see it, Jamil wished with the very power of his soul that Kalim’s statue would last a lifetime, perhaps even longer as he stood and left, the words engraved finally visible:

He who breathed laughter,

He who stood proud,

He who was strong as the current of the ocean.

In fond memory of Kalim Al-Asim, the light in a world of shadow.

May we all discover the same strength he held.

Oki dokes! I didn’t originally plan for a continuation, so it took a little long bit to spark my ideas.

Regardless, I hope you enjoyed, and thanks for reading! Special thanks to @lionheartanotheraccount for the request!!

Stay lovely!

[allegra-writes]

"Fine line" part I

Peter Parker x SHIELD Agent! Reader x Harry Osborn

Teen and Up

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Part of the "Fine Line" series. Welcome to the endgame.

SERIES MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

He had never seen you fight before. It was stupid of him, and potentially dangerous, to stop and think about something like that in the middle of a freaking battle, but he just couldn't help it. You were graceful, deadly. You and Kate Bishop moving together like a well oiled machine. Strike team Delta, Fury's pride. A blur of perfectly shot arrows and high kicks. 

But not even you were enough to stop the giant monstrosity in its path of destruction, not even him was. And it had hostages now. 

"Six!"

"I know K, I'm seeing it!"

"I'm on it guys!" Peter called back as he swung by you like a red and blue meteor, following the greenish abomination currently climbing up the side of a skyscraper, carrying a sports car on his free hand as effortlessly as if it was a toy. 

"One little question though" He switched to coms, "What the hell is that thing??"

"That thing" You explained, "is Norman Osborn…"

Peter's hand slipped, sending him flying face first into the building wall,

"Say what?!" 

"We'll fill you up later, Spidey" Kate quipped, "For now, would you mind giving us a hand before King-kong over there kills anyone? I don't trust his butter fingers not to drop that Audi"

"Yes, ma'am" You could hear Peter's smile in his voice, "S.H.I.E.L.D girls are so bossy"

"Well, we are your superiors..." You noted, finally arriving at the entrance of the building when he was already halfway to the top. 

"Ugh, I hate it when you pull rank on me" He groaned, swerving to dodge the shards of broken glass raining upon him.

You snorted, 

"No you don't"

"No, I don't" He admitted, "Kinda turns me on"

"Ew! Guys, I can hear you" Kate catched up to you, shooting an arrow hooked to a line around her belt. Peter wasn't surprised to see it hit its mark flawlessly on a ledge above his head, "Hi, hot stuff, need a ride?" 

You rolled your eyes, but wrapped your arms around her shoulders nonetheless, holding on tight. 

"Hey!" Peter protested, mid swing, "No flirting with my girl!"

"I saw her first!" Kate released the latch, and soon you both were ascending at breakneck speed, easily surpassing Peter, "Race you to the top, Spidey!" 

His laughter resonated through the coms, as he sped up to follow you, guns blazing into the battle.

…

There was no laughter anymore. The friendly banter and quick comebacks had died long ago, the second you had realized it was a trap. The goblin creature was far more intelligent than you were led to believe, having set the ploy from the very beginning, his seemingly driftless rampage through the city, not so random after all. 

And far more psychotic, as you had learnt when he tore open the car in his hands to reveal the terrified blond man inside. 

"HARRY!"

Peter's horrified scream matched your own.

"Well well well, it seems you awake quite the loyalty" a massive hand closed around Harry's torso, his indigo orbs finding yours across the rooftop "for such a pathetic little worm"

"Let him go, Goblin" Kate's tone was placating, almost gentle, "you don't know what you're doing…"

The creature laughed,

"That's what you think? What your imbecilic little investigation concluded?" Kate and you exchanged a look. Of course. Your investigation about the Green Goblin and other Oscorp shady experiments relied heavily on Norman Osborn personal files. The thought of the passionate scientist, who valued his work more than his own son, lying in his own research had never even crossed your minds. He had played you like a fiddle, misled you every step of the way, and you had bought right into it.

"I worked with S.H.I.E.L.D longer than you had been alive, and Fury thinks he can sic you after me? Two little girls playing spy and my own creation??" Harry looked about ready to pass out as the Goblin waved him around, gesticulating with his hands as he spoke.

Through the corner of his eye, Peter caught a glimpse of Kate inching closer to the beast, and was only half interested when he inquired,

"What do you mean your creation?"

"Everything special about you," The Goblin's deformed visage twisted in what Peter assumed was supposed to be a smirk, "came from one of my labs!"

"That might be true, you might have involuntarily given me my powers, but you didn't make me Spider-man" Peter countered, "Mister Stark gave me the suit, and showed me what it meant to be a hero, and I loved him and admire him more than you will ever be able to understand, but he didn't make me Spider-man either. 

I choose to be Spider-man, every day. I created myself, cause it isn't who we were made to be that makes us who we are. Our choices make us who we are! You might have the powers and appearance of a monster, but you don't have to be one!"

"If you really think that, you are even more stupid than I thought, Peter Parker"

"Pe-peter?" Harry gasped through the creatures crushing grasp around his torso. Peter hesitated for a second, before taking his mask off. 

"Yeah, it's me, buddy" He admitted, watching his friend's eyes go wide, "It's going to be ok, Haz. We'll get you out of this, I promise…"

Famous last words. Peter should have known better by then than to jinx things like that. Because not two minutes later, he was seeing Kate's little ambush fail, the creature's tail whipping around with enough force to send her flying against a wall and knock her out, Peter's own kick just a little too slow to stop the Goblin from grabbing you in his free hand.

"Wings? It has fucking wings??" Peter cursed under his breath, scrambling to follow the monster as he flapped his enormous, membranous wings, soaring across the city. But the creature had no intention of going too far.

"You say our choices make us who we are, very well" The Goblin challenged him, hovering above 700 feet of empty air, and Peter's heart stopped. "Let's see what yours are. What is it going to be, your friend… or your lover?" 

"Don't do it, Goblin!" He yelled, standing on a ledge, ready to pounce, when he saw it. Or rather, saw her, purple hair blowing in the wind, standing on the air, a little lower and further behind from the Goblin, one palm pointed down, creating some sort of sonic wave that kept her up. She signaled a series of orders with her free hand, and Peter nodded almost imperceptibly, but enough for you to realize something was happening. You twisted in the Goblins grip to see what was going on at your back. Oh, fuck.

"Make your choice, Peter. Now!" 

Norman Osborn let go of you and Harry at the same time, leaving you to watch your boyfriend dive for your ex. But you weren't falling, you were floating, cushioned by a column of vibrating air. 

"Don't worry, rookie," You heard an annoyingly familiar voice say, "big sis is here…"

Great. You were never going to live this down, now. 

Meanwhile, Peter had problems of his own, the momentum the Goblin had thrown his own son away making it difficult for him to catch Harry on time.

And even after he had the other man safe in his arms, he wouldn't stop squirming, fighting in his hold. 

"Noooo! Go after her! Save her!!"

Peter managed to land the both of them in a terrace, 

"She's ok! She's fine, see? She's got this! She's got this…" Peter finally released Harry, pointing up to the place where you still were hovering in the air with that other agent. 

"She… she's… flying?" 

"I think that is actually the other one's making…" Peter shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. Harry started pacing back and forth, obviously overwhelmed, trying to make sense of everything that had just happened.

"And you're Spider-man…" he turned to Peter, who nodded. "And that thing… what the fuck was that thing?" 

Peter hesitated,

"Apparently, a crazy scientist" he finally decided on a half truth.

"A crazy… Mate, what even is your life?"

"Honestly? I've been asking myself that same question for years…"

Harry barked out a watery, hysterical laugh. He wanted to punch the shorter guy, he wanted to throw himself at his feet and thank him for saving his life. To apologize for all the drunken midnight calls, and also stab him in his boyishly handsome face for being so fucking noble and heroic and brave and impossibly perfect and for stealing his girl. 

He clutched as his chest, the burn almost making him double over in pain, and he realized he was hyperventilating.

"Harry, Harry, look at me. Look at me! Do you feel my chest? Can you feel my chest under your hand?" 

Harry noticed then that Peter was pressing his open palm, splayed against the spider logo on his own chest. He nodded his affirmation.

"Good, feel how it moves? Breath with me" Peter ordered, "inhale…" 

Harry breathed in, in time with his friend's expanding chest.

"Now exhale" 

Harry let go of his breath.

"That's right, you're doing so great" Peter's praise warmed up something inside his gut. "Inhale…" and Harry did, catching a faint whiff of your perfume. Peter smelled like you, the realization making him notice just how close to each other they were, only inches apart. And he wondered idly if that was the view you were used to, the one you favored over everything else: warm brown eyes, staring into your soul, right before leaning in. He wondered if you appreciated those hard, muscular shoulders under your hands, before pulling him close. He wondered if Peter's lips still tasted like you.

And before he knew it, Peter found himself with Harry's mouth crashing on his.

He knew he should stop it, step away, but he was rooted to the spot, caught off guard by the sudden onslaught of sensations. It was different from kissing a girl. Hard planes where he was used to soft curves. The tickle of scruff, and slightly chapped lips where he was used to your strawberry sweet lipstick. But as Harry's tongue licked his bottom lip, begging for entrance, Peter couldn't help but open up to him, to surrender to him, as his tongue conquered every inch of Peter's mouth, a greddy, hungry victor. 

"I hate you so much" Harry breathed against Peter's mouth, even as his big hands came to frame the brunet's face, the metal of his finger rings cool against Peter's cheeks

"Doesn't feel like hate…" He quipped, before scraping his teeth against Harry's lips, tearing a moan out of him.

"No, it doesn't" the taller boy admitted, pushing one thigh between Peter's, gasping as he felt one of the hero's hands coming to rest against his lower back, pressing him closer. 

"You taste like cigarettes" Peter marveled, for some reason finding the bittersweet taste delicious. 

"And you taste like her" Harry replied, diving in again.

Peter froze. Her. You. His girlfriend. 

"Harry… Harry stop" Peter muttered, between nibbles "we need to stop. This is wrong"

"Feels right" The heir protested, teeth latching onto Peter's lower lip to stop him from pulling away. Peter groaned, but managed to break the kiss anyway. 

"It's not. We can't do this to her." 

Harry sighed, resting his forehead against Peter's, still reluctant to let go completely,

"I know…" he admitted. 

They stood like that for a few moments, willing breathings to calm, and hearts to slow down.

"You should go" Harry spoke finally, taking a step back, Peter immediately missing the warmth of his body in his arms. He wanted to say something, anything, to chase away the heartbreak, the loneliness in those pale blue eyes, but he couldn't. The knot in his own throat would not allow it. 

So he just stepped away, slipping his mask on, and jumped. He caught a glimpse of Harry's teary, red face, sticking out from the balcony to watch him go, before shooting off a web and swinging away, back to the skyscraper where Kate had fallen. Because if he knew you at all, that was exactly where you were going to be, taking care of your best friend.

…

"...I'm telling you, I had everything under control!"

"Is that why you were hanging 700 feet in the air?" The purple haired girl argued, crossing her arms over her chest, "Admit it, rookie, you're lucky I arrived just in time to save your ass. Again."

You were fuming, face flushed and eyes bright, and Peter found himself struck yet again by how gorgeous you were. A pang of guilt stabbed his stomach. 

"I didn't ask you too" You replied, petulantly, "and stop calling me 'rookie', I'm a level 9 agent."

"... I'm still higher than you"

"For one level!" You cried in frustration, "One single fucking level!"

"Would you two shut up?" Kate stumbled up, and Peter broke free from his haze to hurry and wrap a stabilizing arm around her shoulders, "You're giving me a headache"

"Yeah, that would be the concussion," purple quipped, "don't worry, Simmons should be here any minute to take a look at that"

"Yay, finally a sane person to talk to" Kate deadpanned. Purple ignored her.

"And you must be the boyfriend…" She singsonged, nudging you with her shoulder, "He's cute under the mask, how did you managed to get him to go out with you?" 

"Hey!" Peter and you exclaimed indignantly, in unison. 

"I'm kidding, jeez!" She raised her hands in surrender. "Come on, won't you introduce us?" 

You rolled your eyes, but complied anyway,

"Daisy, this is Peter Parker. Peter, this is Daisy Johnson, weirdo fancies herself my sister"

"Ooh, 'fancies'! You've spent way too much time with that brit boy, didn't you?"

"Daisy, I swear to god I will-"

"You need to tell her" Kate whispered, taking advantage of your distraction.

"Wh-what?"

She scoffed, Kate had never had much patience for anyone's bullshit.

"About what just happened with Harry. She will understand, Peter, I promise. But only if she hears it from you"

"H-how do you know?"

"I see better from afar" The archer smirked, before returning her attention to you and, apparently, your sister.

"Are they always like that?" Peter whispered, a little alarmed. Kate snorted,

"Just wait till you meet the rest of her old team…"  

"Yeah, what do you say, boyfriend?" Daisy smirked, mischievous glimmer in her eyes so much like yours, "Ready to meet the family?" 

Peter gulped, he really wasn't. 

To be continued...

[give-seconds]

Survival of the Fittest

Summary: Welcome to the Badlands of Montana! This will be the setting of our game. What’s the name of the game? Simple, make it out alive. In which you and Jaemin are kidnapped and forced to try and find your way out of the Badlands.

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

---Part 7

Warnings: There’s a gun

You know Jaemin is afraid; you’re terrified. Looking at the almost completely hidden building, you find yourself rooted in place.

“So, what’s it going to be, Jaemin?” you ask.

You won’t be surprised if he says he won’t come with you. You know what you’re risking, and you don’t expect him to follow you. You’re hoping, however, that you won’t have to continue alone.

He takes a deep breath, pulling you from your thoughts, and slowly nods his head. “Okay.”

“Wait, you’re coming with me?”

He smiles, nervously laughing. “That’s what the ‘okay’ meant.”

You smile at him, happy you don’t have to continue alone. “Thank you, Jaemin.”

“You don’t have to thank me; this is my life as well.”

A silence settles between you two before he takes a deep breath and adjusts the bag. “Off we go then.”

The first five minutes or so went okay, and the worry you held about this plan started to fade.

That is until the walkie-talkie came alive.

“What are you doing?” You heard Theos’ voice from inside the bag.

You and Jaemin exchange a look, the sound of your captor's voice enough to make all the worry come rushing back. Jaemin slips the backpack off his shoulder and opens it to take out the walkie-talkie.  

“You’re going to die out there,” Theos hisses after neither you nor Jaemin respond. “You saw the building—I know you did, so you know where the end is. You’ll die without my help.”

Again, neither of you responds.

“Fine,” he huffs. “You’ve forced my hand. You won’t get away with this. You don’t get to change the rules of the game just because you want to. I’m coming to get you.”

After he said that, the line goes dead. Wordlessly, Jaemin slides the device back into the bag.

What does it mean he is coming to get us? Obviously, you know it means he is coming out from that building to get you, but how?

You’ve never thought about it until now, but how was it that he is able to carry out the punishments he mentioned? Did he have a gun?

“Y/n?”

You take a deep breath, temporarily pushing the thoughts away, and turn to face Jaemin. “Yeah?”

He motions with his head to continue walking before he swings his body around and continues walking away from the building. “What should we do? He said he’s coming?”

“I-I don’t know. I mean, what can we do other than continue to walk? Should-should we run?”

“Maybe? But how long could we keep that up? I don’t know about you, but my stamina wasn’t that good before coming here, and I can’t imagine it’s any better now.”

You nod your head, nervously clenching and unclenching your fists. “Okay, that’s fair. But he’s chasing us now. We’re being hunted. What do we do? We can’t just let him do this to us.”

“I don’t—”

“Okay sorry,” you interrupt, taking a deep breath, “I know there isn’t anything we can do. I just feel sick thinking about how there isn’t anything we can do. I knew walking past that building was going to get a bad reaction, but seeing is believing, you know?”

Jaemin silently nods his head. He reaches out with his hand, lightly grabbing yours. Once he sees you’re not pulling away. He gently squeezes your hand. “Whatever happens happens. We did our best, and that’s all we can do.”

You’ve always hated holding hands. It made you self-conscious about how sweaty your hand would get. But Jaemin has seen you at your worst and vice-versa. Sweaty hands are the least of your worries.

“Thank you, Jaemin. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiles softly. “Right back at ya.”

You know what you’re doing is the right thing. Even if you and Jaemin don’t make it out, with Theos out looking for you two, maybe the other people could have a chance to escape.

“Thank you for trusting me,” you whisper, squeezing his hand.

He didn’t have to come with you. He could have walked straight into that building and avoid whatever punishment comes out of this should he catch you. In reality, Jaemin has no responsibility to follow you this far. The only loyalty he had to you was at the start when you needed each other to survive. Now though, you’re testing your luck.

He lightly swings your connected hands. “Of course. This is arguably the most scared I’ve ever been, save for that snake,” he jokes. “But I wouldn’t want you doing this alone.”

You’re about to respond, maybe tell him something about how if fear wasn’t coursing through your veins, you’d be touched. Instead, you feel your heart drop as you hear what you assume to be footsteps running in your direction.

You catch Jaemin’s eye, and you assume he hears the same thing you do because his eyes grow wide. Quickly, you pull him forwards as you start to run. You can see the end of one of the hills that surround you. Maybe if you can make it to the end before he catches up with you, you can hide behind it.  

This is it. Before, when you first woke up, you thought you couldn’t get any more afraid. When you first went up that hill and looked out at all the rock, you thought that would be the most shocking thing to make you realize this was real.

You are being chased now, hunted really, and you know if the adrenaline wasn’t coursing through your body, you’d be frozen in fear. This is it. This is how you know what's happening is real.

“Stop.”

You and Jaemin freeze in place. You feel your heart pound in your chest, and you squeeze Jaemin’s hand. He’s here; he’s right behind us.

“Turn around.”

Jaemin squeezes your hand back before letting go. You look over at him as he lets go, watching as he slowly turns around. Taking a deep breath, you follow his lead and turn around to face the man who captured you both.

Whenever you heard Theos’ voice, you always pictured him as this faceless power. He was someone you didn’t think was human; because how could one human do this to another?

So turning around, you’re almost surprised when you see a man in his mid to late twenties pointing a gun at you and Jaemin. He’s good-looking, and you’re sure that if this were just someone you passed on the street, the girl who sits behind you in English would whisper something along the lines of: “Oh my God, look at that man.”

He smiles at you, the gun never wavering. "It's nice to meet you two while you're awake. You look so different.”

Chills ran across your body as you stared back at him. You still can’t understand how someone so normal-looking could do this to you and twenty-four other people.

“You’re going to come with me now,” he says, his smile never fading. He uses his free hand to reach behind him and pull something out from his pocket. Handcuffs.

“We’re going to go back, and you’re going to meet the other participants. Now,” he walks towards where you are standing, “You’re going to let me handcuff you two. I assume I don’t need to remind you of the consequences for disobeying me?”

You watch him as he approaches, eyes wide. We lost our chance.

You watch blankly as he keeps the gun pointed at your chest, reaching forward with the handcuff and attaching it to your right hand. Attaching the other end to Jaemin’s left hand, he smiles before walking behind you two and pushing you both slightly.

“Move.”

The walk back to the camouflaged building can’t be more than ten minutes, but it feels like hours. Your half of the handcuff feels as if it is burning your wrist, and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep from rubbing at the area.

It’s the same emotion you felt when you saw Theos in person. The fact you are trapped in a rock maze was already very real, but feeling a physical restraint made you process, once again, you had been kidnapped. It made you remember there was nothing certain about the situation you were in.

You take in a shaky breath and glance over your shoulder at Jaemin. He has been doing an amazing job keeping his emotions hidden. The only time you can remember him showing any signs of how he truly felt was after Theos told both of your backstories.

But when you look at him now, you see his sadness. His eyes held a faraway look and were glossed over. You force yourself to bring your attention back in front of you as you see him quickly wipe away a tear. It isn’t your fault you’re in this situation—the person holding a gun to your back is the one to blame for that. At the same time, you can’t help but think maybe if you hadn’t suggested it, you two wouldn’t be in this situation now.

As the building comes into sight, you feel the breath leave your body. You know you can’t get away; it's the end. Once you’re in there, there’s no getting out unless you’re incredibly lucky.

You gasp as your foot catches on something, and you fall forward, subsequently dragging Jaemin with you.

“Get up,” Theos sighs.

You and Jaemin push yourselves up, wiping your hands together to brush some of the dirt off. You hiss slightly, looking down at your hands as a sting shoots up your arm. Your hand got scraped.

“Keep moving.”

You hear Jaemin take a shaky breath before he continues walking. You fall back into step with him, and a few steps later, the full the building comes into view.

You’ve never felt intimidated by a building before. But the way the sun was suddenly cut off as you walked to the entrance of the building was terrifying.

“Open the door and take an immediate left,” Theos instructs, pulling your thoughts away from the building.

You and Jaemin exchange a quick glance before you reach forward and pull open the door. The room on the other side of the door is empty save for three computer monitors on a plastic table and a chair sat in front.

Following what Theos said, you and Jaemin turn to the left and walk down the hallway. The hall is lined with two doors on the left and two doors on the right. At the end of the hallway is what you assume to be a closet.  

“Number 24 in here,” Theos says, pointing the gun to the first door on the left, “Number 25 in there,” he points to the opposite door on the right.

“What?

“Contestants have to be separated,” he puts the gun in the back of his pants and grabs your linked hands, quickly unlocking the handcuffs before pushing you towards the door on the right, “Now, number 24 on the left, and 25 on the right.”

---

Thank you for reading! I know updates have been slow (and I feel as if the quality in these chapters has been declining) but I appreciate all of you who continue to support me through this. I would love to know what you thought about it and I hope you have a wonderful day/night. 

Previous 

[perseusjackson-jasongrace]

Hey...I am AN ABSOLUTE jercy TRASH like A HUGE JERCY FAN and I was wondering if you could like a one shot of jealous percy...I have seen a lot of jealous jason fanfics but never really saw a jealous percy!!! Thank you and I LOVE YOUR BLOG SO MUCH...

Hello darling Anon!! Adore that you're #jercytrash (is there really any other way to be????) and I'm so happy you enjoy the mess of content i have🥺💙all the heart eyes

Anyway I loooovvveeeeeddddd this prompt and this is evident by the very many words I couldn't help but write! I do hope you love it as much as I loved writing it☀️please excuse any mistakes it's like 3am here and Ciara be tired as hell

Masterlist

"Are you coming to the party tonight?"

"Gods no," Percy shivers, face pulling into a look of distaste.

"Why not I heard Annabeth is gonna be there," Leo's eyebrows waggle, earth eyes sparkling.

He wants to laugh, to cry a little too. If only that is the blonde he is so infatuated with.

"Nah bro those parties always end up much wilder than they need to be and nine times out of ten they're shut down by the cops."

"That's half the fun Jackson!" Leo's smile widens.

"I'm good thanks, my idea of fun is sitting here playing Playstation and gorging myself on M&Ms."

"Will you at least promise to come on the trip this weekend?"

"I don't know man," He shakes his head, "I've got a psych test to study for and there's like three assignments due by the end—"

"Oh excuses, excuses Jackson you haven't gone out once since we started. It's gonna be winter break soon and we won't see each other for at least a month." Those brown eyes are puppy wide.

He sighs, half-ready to give in, "Who's gonna be there?"

"The usual gang. And Jason finally gets to come this year! His dad is on a business trip so he isn't spending the weekend for once."

Percy's ears get hot and he hopes they don't look flushed, "Oh that's nice I guess. If you leave me alone tonight I'll come on the trip."

Leo's answering whoop is enough to make him laugh. When he collapses on the couch, after waving goodbye to his friend, there is a warmth blooming in his chest.

Three hours, five packets of M&Ms and a stream of curse words at the TV later, he finally decides to head to bed. But as he's shoving on a pair of sleep shorts there's a knock at his door. He frowns, considers ignoring it but his mind whirls with all the possibilities.

What if someone got hurt? What if someone needs his help? What if someone is....oh gods he doesn't want to think about it. He brushes his fingers against the wooden headboard, rubs at his head, grabs his elbow and then he takes a deep breath and opens the door.

"Peerrccccyyy," A slurring, smiling Jason Grace stumbles into him.

"Jason?" He grabs hold of the blonde's arms and pulls them both into his apartment, "What are you doing here?"

"I came over because–" Pearl white teeth flash, "Wow you're so pretty." Those golden hands grab Percy's chin, pulling their faces together until there is nothing but tension and breath between them.

"What are you doing?" He swallows.

"Has anyone ever told you your eyes look like emeralds glistening at the bottom of a river?"

"Uh no can't say they have," He wants to laugh but Jason's lips are so close and his hand is still on Percy's face and oh gods he needs to move before he does something he shouldn't.

"Have we kissed before? No I'd remember that." Eyebrows scrunch, "I think you have a beautiful mouth."

"I think—" He inhales sharply as Jason's fingers dance along his collar bone, "I think we should get you to bed."

"Aw," Full pink lips pout, "But we are having so much fun."

"I think we'll have more fun when you're sober."

The blonde giggles, "I'm not drunk silly. I only had like... fifteen shots of vodka."

"Jesus Grace how are you even standing?"

"When you're this tall it takes forever for the liquor to do its thing and you need a lot of it otherwise it all goes to your toes and you never get drunk."

Jason is frowning again and all Percy wants to do is kiss the crease in his forehead and pull him closer. Instead he tugs him by the hand and guides him to the bed.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll take the couch." He pushes the blanket aside and let's the blonde fall into the sheets.

"Are you sure? You can always stay with me?" Those blue eyes are bright and big and so full of, of, of... "I promise I won't kick you. I stopped doing that in first grade."

He can't hold in his laugh this time but when he recovers enough to reassure his friend he'll be fine he is greeted by the peaceful sight of a sleeping blonde. He shakes his head softly, allowing himself a moment to take in the scene. Tangled white sheets, golden hair, soft deep breathing, a tiny splattering of freckles, and the wonder of tomorrow carried on the wind that stirs the chiffon curtains. This moment will live within his soul for the rest of his life. Of this, he is certain.

***

The treadmill beeps incessantly indicating the end of the session and the end of Percy's day. He's about ready to pass out from exhaustion and he couldn't be happier. The days are long and blurry and he would do anything to escape the weight on his chest. A blue-eyed, golden-haired weight. He snorts at the innuendo. If only the actual person was sitting on his chest, entertaining each other. But no it's just the feeling, the emptiness, the lack of anything weighted. His eyes shudder closed as he steps into a red-hot shower and let's the memories of his last meeting with the blonde wash over him. There is a time, mere months ago, where Percy would have scoffed at these feelings. Would have told himself it was ridiculous and stupid and there were much more important things to be focusing on than some boy. But every interaction with Jason Grace feels like the middle of a fireworks display, feels like crawling into the sun, or falling off a cliff only for the water to catch you. Every interaction feels electric. And he cannot help but overanalyse each touch, smile, lingering look. Are they for him, or for the world? Jason had always been easy. He could make you feel like the most important person in the world just by glancing at you. It was beautiful, magnetic, but it also meant Percy never really knew if anything they did was genuine. If the extra squeeze when they hugged was as a friend or something more. If those blazing eyes over the campfire was a trick of the light or... But tomorrow it's their annual WastedWinter trip and at the very least he can look forward to a few nights of bad decisions and sinful delights.

The day dawns bright, cloudless, and icy cold. He breathes in the fresh winter air and lets the sting travel through his lungs. There are few things as lively as the winter morning air. With a look through his apartment window to see the birds flying and the wind shaking the trees awake he ducks into the shower and gets ready for the trip.

At exactly eleven a knock echoes through his apartment. He clicks submit on his assignment and races over to throw the door open.

"Good morning Jackson! You're looking especially radiant this find day."

"Must be the seaweed face mask I put on last night."

"Oh," Annabeth Chase frowns, "And here I thought you got down and dirty with someone."

He snorts, stepping aside to let her in. "No such luck Princess, I'm down and out on laundry."

She smacks his arm, grey eyes sparkling, "I hope you know you're driving for most of this."

"Is this because I'm the only one who can be trusted to get us there in one piece,"

She gives him an incredulous look and then turns her nose up, "No Jackson it's because the rest of us want to get wasted and you don't drink."

"Ah, glad to know I'm of some use to the group."

"Oh you're plenty useful," She winks.

He laughs at that, mind flashing to the fling they had at the start of their undergraduate years. Both had realized pretty early that life was leading them in different directions and it would be better to stay friends. But tumbling in the sheets with her had been fun while it lasted.

"Alright who's in our car?"

"We got me, you," She starts tapping her fingers, "Leo, Jase and Rey,"

"Great so I'll be talking to myself for most of this trip." He rolls his eyes.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well Leo and Reyna will fall asleep about five seconds after we start driving and you and Jason will talk incessantly about gods knows what, which leaves poor old me."

"We will not!" Annabeth's ears go pink as she glares at him.

"Mhmm okay Princess."

"Shut it." She grumbles, shoving him.

Some minutes later they're all piling into the car: Percy driving, Reyna in the front, Leo at the back on the left, Annabeth in the middle and Jason on the right.

"Hello everyone ready to roll?"

"I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night," Leo mumbles and then he's fluffing his pillow against the door and closing his eyes.

"What was he doing?"

"Engineering project," Jason grins, "He forgot and had to sit up all night to submit before we left."

"I'm also out," Reyna throws up an uncharacteristic peace sign and settles into her seat, eyes already shut.

"And her?" He asks, a little sore his right-hand passenger is ditching him for dreamland.

"No idea," The two blondes shrug.

Percy refrains from rolling his eyes and puts the car in gear. With a final check to make sure everything is in its place he pulls onto the road and starts the long journey to Lakeside Lodges.

The music is soft, some pop song that everyone is raving about, and the city is alive with the lunch hour rush.

"Jason," Annabeth starts, "What are you doing for the structural—"

Percy tunes them out, content to let their university talk become background noise. He glances at the rear-view mirror and sees shining blue eyes staring intently into serious gray ones. He looks away, focuses his attention on the road.

Sometime later they leave the city behind, the sound of cars and sirens and endless people fading into calmer, more lilting noises. The quiet of the empty road, and the crackle of the radio, and the soft chatter from the backseat. He cannot help but feel at peace, feel as if the world is balanced just right.

Annabeth giggles, catching his attention and he watches in the mirror as Jason lays a hand on her thigh and laughs into her shoulder. Quickly he adverts his eyes, swallowing the sinking feeling and turns the music up to distract his thoughts.

"Percy," At tap on his shoulder. "Pers?"

"Yea what's up?" He smiles and it feels like surgery with no anaesthetic.

"Did you hear what Jase said? It was such a stupid joke I said you'd appreciate it."

He shakes his head, "Wanna tell it again?"

"Nah," Jason mumbles, "Won't be as funny the second time."

"Aw come on Jase," Annabeth pouts, "For me?"

He watches from the mirror as those blue eyes light up, "What do you mean for you? I thought I was telling the joke for Mr Driver?"

She giggles, shoving at his arm, "That's what I mean."

Percy isn't sure he can't take anymore of their whatever it is so he clears his throat and asks them for a pack of Sour Patch Kids.

"Oo I love those!" Jason gasps, rummaging around in their snack bag. A packet drops into the cup holder and he thanks the blonde.

"Jase throw them at me, let's see if I can catch!"

The six gummies shoved in his mouth turn bitter as he watches the two giggle and joke and share space. By the time Jason throws the last gummy Annabeth is practically in his lap to catch it. Percy wants nothing more than to get out of this damn car. His skin is hot and he's sure his blood is about two degrees away from boiling. The stones in his stomach are stacking up like rock scultputres. Pretty but destructive. Nothing can get passed but nothing can leave either. And the heavy, sinking feeling certainly doesn't seem to be going anywhere. Finally though they arrive at the lodges and after check in he practically vaults himself out of the car and disappears into a bathroom.

There staring in the mirror he can see his misery reflected back at him. His green eyes are stormy, and there seems to be a permanent crease in his forehead. His mouth is down turned and his hair is in a state of complete disarray. Tugging at it when he's frustrated is an unbreakable habit.

He stays in the little bathroom for longer than he thought because he is sharply pulled to the present by a rap on the door.

"Percy?"

"Coming," He sighs. He straightens his back, attempts to tame his hair, and plasters a smile on his face.

"You good?" Frank frowns when he walks out.

"Yea sorry, drank one too many slushies."

His friend laughs, "Tell me about it. I think my tongue is going to be stained red for a month."

"I mean that's your fault. Blue is clearly the superior slush."

"Blue is the worst flavor," He scrunched his nose, "It isn't even a flavor. They somehow managed to give colour a taste."

"Well red is nothing but iced medicine."

"Hey guys," Frank waves their friends over, "Percy thinks blue slushies are the best flavour, care to tell him he's wrong?"

There is a pause amongst them and then everyone is talking at once.

"No,"

"I mean I kind of agree."

"Green is obviously the best."

"There is no way, it's red all the way."

"What about-"

"Okay!" Annabeth shouts, "Let's settle this WinterWasted style,"

Leo rubs his palms together, a gleam in his eyes.

"Everyone who says red stand on one leg, everyone who says blue stand on anything but the floor."

They all shuffle around, pushing each other over and generally causing chaos but soon they're in their spaces. Everyone observes the room.

"That's four to red and three to blue." Leo announces.

Jason, Percy and Hazel are standing on the couches and counters. Piper, Annabeth, Leo and Frank are on one leg in the middle of the lounge.

"Yes! We won." Frank smirks, "Alright losers you know the drill."

"No!" Percy yells, "We're missing a person. If Reyna joins us then we're even and we go into death round."

"Okay Jackson, I see you can't take the loser title sitting down so we'll get Reyna's opinion. But if she chooses us you guys have to drink and jump." Frank's black eyes sparkle with mischief.

Percy narrows his own, pinning his gaze on his friend, "Deal Zhang."

Just then Reyna walks in and seeing the odd scene sighs heavily. "What are we trying to settle? We haven't even had lunch yet."

"First of all it's six o clock so it's a little late for lunch and secondly are you Team Red Slush or Team Blue Slush?"

She scoffs, looks over them and grins, "I'm Team Purple because grape is obviously the only valid flavour."

Everybody groans, cursing her.

"Grape is the absolute worst Arellano." Leo gives her a look of disgust.

"Mhmm," She simply smiles.

"Well if you had to choose between blue and red which one?" Percy asks.

She taps her head for a moment and then looks to the ceiling in exasperation, "Guess I'll choose Red."

"Hell yes!" Frank whoops, laughing as the blue team groans. "Guess who's doing the BigFalls jump tonight!"

Percy grumbles but there is a light in his eyes and as he swats away a hand ruffling his curls he decides it was worth it, even if his friends are wrong.

That night they all stumble to the GreatCliff, an area that had witnessed many a fall, kiss, and confession. Most importantly a place that held some of their favourite memories.

Percy, being the only fully sober one, constantly counts his friends, making sure none of them have gone over-cliff or landed in a ditch somewhere. Soon enough they make it to the clearing and lay down the picnic basket and their towels.

"Alright losers," Piper smirks, "You ready for this?"

Hazel pouts, "Do we have to?"

"Yes!" Annabeth exclaims, blonde curls bouncing as she jumps up and down in excitement.

Jason whispers something in her ear and she dissolves into giggles. Percy looks away, refuses to let their closeness ruin his night, weekend, forever.

"On the count of three," Frank starts.

Reyna takes off her sarong and settles down on the blanket with a smirk.

"One..."

Hazel bounces nervously.

"Two..."

"Don't get hypothermia," Piper laughs.

"Three!"

Jason, Hazel and Percy are sprinting, racing for open air. With a yell they jump and then they're free falling, flying, screaming.

Percy hits the water in a neat dive, barely flinching at the icy temperatures. When he comes up for air the world is noisy with laughter and cheering. He waves to his friends at the top of the cliff and checks to make sure his fellow jumpers are okay.

Hazel is grumbling about being fully sober again and Jason's teeth are chattering but there are smiles on their faces and stars in their eyes and Percy knows the weekend has just begun.

They all swim up the stream and climb all the way back to the cliff where a small fire is crackling and their friends are dancing sporadically to a bawdy ukelele tune being played by Leo.

"Oh gods," Jason groans, "How are we already at this stage of the night."

"Whatever Pipes put in the punch is going straight to our lungs," Annabeth giggles.

Reyna shakes her empty glass in confirmation and request. Soon everyone is hopping and bouncing and singing badly around the fire. Percy settles into the blanket and watches his friends. They are full of life and magic and he can't help but tear up at the love he has for them. Even Reyna is joining the revelry, laughing bright and beautiful at something Hazel says.

His attention catches on the twirling figure of Annabeth. And then Jason grabs her mid spin and pulls her to him.

"Dance with me,"

"Of course Mr Grace," She bows.

They draw together, his hands on her hips, her head on his chest, swaying slowly. Annabeth mumbles something and Jason's shoulders shake with laughter. She looks up, their eyes meeting. Percy can't stand to watch anymore. Abruptly he gets up, throws the blanket aside and stalks into the trees.

"Pers?" Someone calls. He doesn't bother to respond.

He hears scattered conversation and then footsteps are running towards his retreating figure.

"Percy wait!"

He manages to hold in a groan as he realizes who followed him.

"Pers slow down, what's going on?"

"Nothing," He grits, "I just needed some air."

Jason laughs, "We are literally in the middle of a forest how much more air do you need?"

They're still stalking through the woods, dead leaves cruching under their feet.

"Come on, what the hell happened? You just up and left?"

Percy stops in his tracks, whips around to face the blonde, "I'm surprised you noticed."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've been so wrapped up in Annabeth all day I wouldn't be surprised if you forgot to breathe unless she told you to." He spits.

Jason's face crumples, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Percy instantly regrets his words but he can't take them back, "Just nevermind. I'm going to the cabin. Be careful walking back." He turns to walk away but a golden hand on his arm yanks him back

"Um no, you're going to explain right the fuck now because this isn't like you at all."

"Isnt like me?" He laughs sharply, "What isn't like me?"

"This," Jason motions up and down, "You walking away, being angry with us? What is going on?"

"I'm just tired," He sighs, "Can we drop this?"

"No Percy. I've seen you tired. I've seen you so exhausted you couldn't even see straight. I've seen you sad and angry and frustrated and happy and excited and calm but I have never seen you so... volatile. So just tell me—"

"I'M JEALOUS OKAY!" He yells, "I. Am. Jealous."

Jason reels back, lightning eyes blinking, once, twice, widening, "You're jealous?"

"Yes," He breathes, "And I'd appreciate it if we stopped talking about this."

"Oh," Is the blonde's intelligent reply.

"Yea oh," He scrubs at his face, running a hand through his hair.

"You're jealous of me? If you liked Annabeth why didn't you just say so? I wasn't flirting with her, we were just being dumb. I've had a few too many tequilas and she's hilarious and gods I'll back off I swear I didn't mean to hurt you. I'll even hype you up to her if you—"

"You are such an idiot," Percy growls and then he grabs the blonde by the t-shirt, pulls him in and sears their lips.

Jason tastes like the sky, like winter breezes and lightning storms and home. He tastes like home.

When they break apart Jason is gasping, mouth opening and closing.

"Do you get it now?"

"You- and I- and we- and Anna- and just- and-"

"Are you speechless because you don't know how to let me down easy or because I took your breath away?" Percy winces.

He needs to know. Needs to understand if this is a one-sided thing, if he's been dreaming up their dynamic all these months.

"Do that again," The blonde breathes.

A slow smile spreads across his face and then Percy Jackson cups Jason Grace's cheek and comes home at last.

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

all i know is gone (but i am not alone)

summary: “I want you to make me a promise, Avatar Aang,” Katara whispered. This time, when she placed her hand on top of his, he didn’t pull away. “When this is all over, when the war is won… Promise me that you’ll grieve.”

(alternatively: grieving is hard. aang’s friends work harder. a series of missing/expanded scenes from a:tla exploring aang’s grief through his friends’ eyes.)

i’ve been wanting to write an atla fic for a while now because there is not enough aang-centric content in the fandom and i am determined to fill that void (by myself if i must!!). if the read-more doesn’t work, please let me know!

~*~

1. katara: the world should have protected him… instead he has been asked to protect it. what an honor. no… what an injustice. (kids shouldn’t be fighting wars.)

It wasn’t fair was Katara’s immediate thought as she stared up at the starry night sky. If she was being honest with herself, ‘it wasn’t fair’ was often Katara’s constant thought, cruel proof of their painful reality that forever lingered in the back of her mind. A thought she wasn’t sure she’d ever be rid of. Her people hadn’t been free of it for a hundred years.

It wasn’t fair that her and Sokka’s dad had left to fight in an unwinnable war, that he’d abandoned them when they were only kids. It wasn’t fair that she’d had to be the one to find her mother’s brutally slain body, her mother who’d sacrificed her life to protect her. It wasn’t fair that she and Sokka had been forced to grow up before they had a chance to be young, that they’d been robbed of their childhood before they’d had time to be a child.

And Aang… Well, the world was cruelest to the kindest, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t fair that Aang had been the one to discover Monk Gyatso’s skeleton. It wasn’t fair that his entire people, every Air Nomad had been slaughtered a century ago and that he’d been forced to experience such an incomprehensible loss all at once. It wasn’t even fair that he was the Avatar, that the responsibility of stopping the war and saving the world was solely his to bear.

And even if that responsibility didn’t have to be his and his alone, Katara could tell Aang would make it so. Because that was simply how he was. He was hope incarnate, kind, unabashedly good - and Katara prayed the war wouldn’t strip him to the bone.

Waterbenders rose with the moon, hence why Katara was awake in the dead of night when she knew she should have been sleeping. The sky was clear. She couldn’t say the same for her mind.

Sokka had wrapped himself tightly in his sleeping bag, his lips parting ever so often to release a quiet snore, a sound that was usually annoying but now provided her at least a semblance of normalcy to life in the South Pole. The lemur - Momo, she was pretty sure he’d been dubbed - was curled up at Aang’s feet, while Aang himself lay snuggled into Appa’s side. His eyebrows were furrowed with an odd intensity that she wasn’t used to seeing on his face, and she absentmindedly wondered what he might be dreaming about.

Of course, just because she wondered didn’t mean she would die if she didn’t know, but the universe had a funny way of thrusting things upon her.

“No,” Aang murmured, rolling flat onto his back, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “No. Gyatso…”

Katara noticed a slight breeze picking up through their makeshift campsite, and she pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders.

“Gyatso… I’m sorry. No - please, no!”

Katara’s eyes widened as she realized the wind was only getting stronger - and that its gradual increase seemed to be in perfect synchronization with Aang’s distressed mumbling. Was he going to enter the Avatar state?! Spirits, she didn’t know.

Okay. She needed to think rationally. She - She could do her best to calm him down and make sure their camp didn’t get blown away by Aang’s dream-induced bending. Yes, that was her plan. And hopefully she’d avoid waking Sokka up in the process.

“Aang?” she whispered, crawling over to him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Aang, you need to wake up.”

He didn’t seem to hear her, his eyes still stiffly clenched shut. Momo had moved, too, having been woken up by the newfound breeze stirring around the camp. He was chittering next to Aang’s head, though the additional noise again seemed ineffective as the wind only picked up further. It was amazing how Sokka was sleeping through it all.

“Aang!” Katara tried again, raising her voice and trying to lightly shake his shoulder. “Aang, you’re going to blow away the camp! Wake up!” She was exaggerating, maybe, though the wind had increased to the point where her braid was starting to whip around over her shoulder. “Aang, please!”

“I’m sorry,” Aang whispered, and Katara’s heart skipped a beat before she realized he hadn’t been speaking to her. “It’s my fault, Gyatso. They’re all gone.”

Katara’s heart proceeded to drop into her stomach as what he was dreaming about finally clicked in her mind. “Oh, no,” she breathed. She redoubled her efforts to wake him, no longer caring if Sokka accidentally woke up, too, in the process. “It’s just a dream, Aang! It’s not” - spirits, it was real, she couldn’t lie to him - “You’re with Sokka and I now! We aren’t at the air temple anymore. Please, wake up!”

With one final shake, Aang sat bolt upright, and the wind that had been swirling around him like the beginnings of a tornado was suddenly blasted outwards, and Katara couldn’t stop the yelp that escaped her lips as she found herself literally being blown violently across the camp.

“Katara!” Aang cried, his eyes still hazy with sleep but rapidly clearing. He jumped to his feet, reaching out before pulling his hands back towards him. The air obeyed, and Katara breathed a quiet sigh of relief as she was slowly lowered back to the ground in front of Aang.

For a moment, neither spoke, both simply staring at the other as they tried to get a grasp on everything that had transpired in the last minute and a half. At least that was what Katara found herself doing. Maybe Aang was still trying to fully wake up.

Then Sokka let out a particularly loud snore, and the quiet moment was shattered.

“I’m so, so sorry, Katara!” Aang apologized, his words tumbling out of him like a waterfall. “I haven’t - I haven’t bended in my sleep like that since I was - maybe five? I don’t know what happened!” He hesitated, then looked up at her with wide, concerned eyes. “Are you okay?”

And if Katara’s heart fluttered, she ignored it.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him, sitting next to Appa’s leg and taking one of her friend’s hands to gently pull him down to the ground beside her. “I’m more worried about you, Aang.” She released his hand, placing both of hers in her lap. “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

The color drained from Aang’s face. “What?”

This was harder than Katara thought it was going to be. “You were having some kind of nightmare,” she pressed on. “About Gyatso, and… the other Air Nomads?”

Aang stiffened at her words, breaking eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Aang…” She gave him as soft of a smile as she could muster. “You are incredibly talented at many things, but I don’t think lying is one of them.” She reached out to place her hand on top of his, wincing slightly as he pulled away. “It’s… It’s okay to feel sad, Aang. Today has been really hard and confusing for you” - her descriptions didn’t even begin to cover it, she knew - “and if you want to talk about it, then I’m here to listen.”

At first, Aang said nothing. Then he sighed. “I… can’t believe it’s been a hundred years.”

Katara couldn’t either, if she was honest. The idea of him surviving in an iceberg for a century was impossible for her to wrap her mind around.

“And… And now I’m the last airbender in the whole world,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “All of the other Air Nomads are gone because I wasn’t there to protect them when the Fire Nation kil-” He took a shuddering breath, cutting himself off. “I’m the Avatar. I should have been able to do something, saved someone -”

“Aang, no,” Katara said, horrified by the thought that he’d blame himself for the death of the Air Nomads. “The Fire Nation, Fire Lord Sozin - they’re the ones to blame for…” Spirits, she couldn’t even bring herself to articulate the atrocity that had been committed. “For what happened to the Air Nomads. Not you. There was nothing you could have done, Aang, except…” Except die with them, she realized. And then… there would have been no hope at all.

She would never have met him, either.

“It’s not your fault, okay?” she finished. “And - And maybe there are still airbenders left!” Even if they hadn’t been seen in over a hundred years, who was to say that they hadn’t gone into hiding? Blending in among other nations? She herself still held out hope that waterbenders besides her from the Southern Water Tribe were still alive, maybe in the Earth Kingdom or even with the Northern Tribe.

There was a heaviness to Aang’s shoulders that told her he didn’t believe her words, but he didn’t argue, either. “The monks taught me that happiness is a choice,” he finally said, his fists clenching in his lap as his expression grew steely. “I’m the Avatar. That means I can’t let myself be weighed down by what happened a hundred years ago. I have to master the other three elements so I can end this war and save everyone, but I - I can choose to seek joy during my journey, too.”

Although he sounded almost as if he was reciting a creed or a mantra, Katara knew his words were sincere. Just from his one assertion she couldn’t help but be reminded of how the Air Nomads were the most enlightened of the four nations, or so Gran Gran had told her when she was little. Of all people, Aang deserved to feel devastated. He had suffered a loss greater than the world could comprehend. He should have been the angriest, bitter and driven for revenge more than anyone else - and yet here he was, still determined to choose forgiveness, to seek happiness from it all. Even so…

“The monks were very wise,” Katara mused after a pause. “But… I don’t think there’s any shame in feeling grief, either.” When her mother had died… sometimes Katara felt like the worst thing she’d done to herself was immediately stepping into her mother’s shoes. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much if she’d given herself more time to breathe. To mourn. To feel.

Aang’s gaze hardened. “I’m the Avatar,” he repeated. “My duty is first and foremost to the world. I’m not letting anyone else down.”

And if Katara’s heart shattered, she ignored it.

What could she say? How could she possibly remind him that he didn’t have to bear that burden alone? That she and Sokka were his family now? How could she help lift a century-old weight from his shoulders, a weight equivalent to tens of thousands of lives?

How could she comfort her new friend?

“I want you to make me a promise, Avatar Aang,” Katara whispered. This time, when she placed her hand on top of his, he didn’t pull away. “When this is all over, when the war is won… Promise me that you’ll grieve.” He needed to let himself feel - grief, anger, pain, relief. Whatever emotions he needed to process, she wanted to be certain that he wouldn’t bottle them up for the rest of his life.

It was undoubtedly advice she needed to take for herself, too.

Aang hesitated, then gave her a small smile. “Okay. I promise.”

Katara breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Good.” She let go of his hand. “Now, I think we both need to get some rest. We have a long day of travelling ahead of us tomorrow.”

Aang laughed, and spirits if Katara wasn’t relieved to hear that sound. “Yeah. You’re right.” He snuggled back up against Appa, but not before giving her another grateful smile. “Thank you, Katara.”

She could do nothing but return his smile with one of her own. “You’re welcome, Aang.”

And while he drifted off into a more peaceful slumber than before, Katara remained awake, still energized by the bright glow of the moon. Perhaps when Aang mastered waterbending he’d be able to join her.

Spirits, it wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that Aang had been given no time to grieve. It wasn’t fair that his mourning was ancient history for everyone else. It wasn’t fair that no one else could ever come close to understanding his loss, because spirits knew all she wanted to do was help ease his pain.

Aang was so, so strong. And she desperately wished he didn’t have to be.

They were just kids. All of them. Even Sokka could hardly be considered an adult. No, it wasn’t fair, it never had been and never would be, but… It was reality.

The word left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

At the same time… Katara believed Aang could save the world. It was a conviction stronger than anything she’d ever felt before, and she was determined to do everything in her power to make sure he was given the chance. As long as Aang was there… The future looked bright - didn’t it?

~*~

continue reading on AO3 for bumi’s, sokka’s, toph’s, zuko’s, suki’s, and katara’s (again!) povs :D this bitch is 14k and i didn’t want to kill anyone’s dash lmao hence why i’ve only put katara’s first pov here.