#hang hitch kick or sail

[foomoosworld]

Stars Too Far

CHAPTER 4 - Your Air Hurts My Skin

Pairing: Mandalorian X Fem Reader

The Mandalorian crashes his ship on a little known planet on the outer rim that is uninhabited... well... almost. Except for you, a feral woman who has been on her own most of her life and is doing everything in her power to get off the deadly planet.

MINORS DNI - Explicit content. Smut. Fluff. Violence.

A/N - I had a day off and promised I would go outside today. I. Did. Not. I wrote and listened to music intertwined with playing with my dog and attempted to feed myself healthy food like an adult. So I hope you enjoy the next chapter as I shamefully order shitty Panago Pizza and tell myself, "Welp, maybe I'll be a healthy, exercising, normal person tomorrow." (Shakes 8 ball) "Hm... 'outlook not so good'" Welp! That's all the reassurance I need to continue being a hermit! Also, I hid a little "The Last Of Us" Easter Egg in there for all you Pedro fans!

You sat in the co-pilot’s chair next to Din as he captained the ship.  You couldn’t stop the anxious rush of relief and nervousness as you put your deadly home planet behind you and forged forth into the universe of the unknown.  Needing to channel your pent up energy into something you pulled at a long thread of your tattered clothes then knotted it up between your hands and began playing Cat’s Cradle.

“We need to get you some new clothes.”  Din says noting the dilapidated state of your attire.

“You mean, swamp rat fashion isn’t turning you on?” you smile.  Din punches in new coordinates into his console.  “Where are we headed?” You question.

“I know a place with a good market, and friends, and somewhere we can get a bounty puck.  Since my last bounty, obviously, didn’t pay off I need to get some credits.  We’re going to Tatooine.”

“Never heard of it.”  You say dismissively as you inspect your fingers tangled in the thread.

“You’ve never heard of anywhere.” Din corrects you.

“Touche.”

“We’re about to go into hyperspace.”

“Into what?”  You cock your head, dropping the thread.  Din suddenly realizes that you have never been on a functional ship or experienced space travel.  Things that seem like everyday experiences will be brand new to you, like a newborn experiencing the world for the first time.

“Hang on.”  He says as he pulls some levers and pushes a button.  The ship lurches forward and the stars outside the windscreen blur into bright blue hues and race by the ship.  You grasp the arm rests of the ship, startled as the ship kicks into high gear and takes off like a whip.  As the Razor Crest steadies it’s self into flying smoothly in hyperspace Din turns and looks at you as your breath hitches in your throat and you slowly stand up with your jaw dropped and wide-eyed as you stare at the blur of universe sailing by out the window.  Slowly, you walk to the windshield and touch it with your hand as if to feel the stars.  He stands up and moves next to you, realizing the beauty of space again as if for the first time.

“It’s… beautiful. Like fireworks running away from us.”

Din snakes his arm around your waist.  “It is beautiful,” he whispers staring squarely into your face.

“Don’t you have to drive the ship while we’re going this fast?”  You question as you put your arms around him.

“No.  It’s automated to navigate to the location.  I usually sleep while traveling long distances in hyper-space.”

“Why do I get the feeling you don’t want to sleep?” you tease with a small smirk on your face.

Din grabs you tightly and pushes you back against a control panel.  Some emergency lights suddenly begin to flash from your body pushing some buttons.

“Dank Ferrik!”  You jump back up and look around with your hands out defensively, but not actually knowing how to fix the issue.  Din reaches around you and pushes a button just past your body and the emergency warnings stop.

“You think you can fly my ship?”  He growls, his voice dripping with lust.

“How hard could it be?” you cock an eyebrow at him cheekily.

Din lets out a grunt and exhales,

“Bad girl…”

Din grasps your ass and lifts you up and you wrap your legs around his waist with your arms snaked around his neck. You happily squeal as he sits down in the pilot's seat with you in his lap.  You stare at him lustfully, both of you breathing heavily.  All of the sudden you reach back to try and push a button on the console but Din’s strong hand grasps your arm and wrenches you back around to look at him.

“Looks like someone needs to learn a lesson.”  He said as his hand trailed down to the top of your pants and slowly slipped under your underwear.  You gasp as his gloved hand slowly circles your clit.

“Who’s gonna teach me that?  You?” you stammer as your pleasure climbs through your body.

Din grabs your hips and effortlessly flips you around in his lap so your ass is in the air.  He yanks down your pants revealing your bare skin to the cool air of the ship.  With one hand still slowly circling your clit he leans down and whispers next to your ear.

“I know you like that.”  

You bite your lip and swivel your hips trying to suppress your hot yearning.  You don’t want him to win.

“Tell me you love how I touch you.”  He growls into your ear.

You peer back at him with slim eyes, taunting, “Do something I like and maybe I’ll say it.”

He straightens up, with a small smile you can’t see under his helmet.  He rubs a small hot circle on your bare ass with his palm then raises his hand in the air.  It comes crashing down with a loud slap and you jerk forward over his knee.  Your eyes close in pleasure and mouth drops open but you stifle your moan into silence, not letting him get the satisfaction.

“Bad girl…”  Din lowers his head and rasps quietly into your ear.  He watches as you slowly move your hand back to the console to push another button.  He speeds up the circles he’s drawing on your clit and you arch your back and moan out loud.  Din whispers to you, eyeing your outstretched hand towards the console, “I dare you to try…”  Slowly you turn your head to him and smile slyly.  Your hand touches one of the buttons.  He grasps your arm and with the other spanks you hard three times consecutively.  You’re screaming out in pleasure, pussy dripping onto his lap.

“I want you…” You push up and grasp around his neck and straddling him.  Your hips buck against him but you are confused when he doesn’t respond back.

“No.”  He says simply then flips you over in the chair, kneels on the ground in front of you and spreads your legs.

“Wh-What?” You stammer.  His gloved hand continues to furiously rub your clit and your body writhes back and begins rocking with waves of ecstasy, “Oh Din…  That’s so good… I need you in me…”

“WIll you be a good girl from now on?” He asks.  You shake your head frantically, grasping the back of the pilots chair and bucking your hips as he fingers your clit.  He slowly slides two fingers into you and you sigh with relief that you’re finally being filled as you thrust against his hand.  “That’s a good girl…”  Din purrs as he starts moving his fingers faster and faster bringing you higher and higher towards your orgasm.

“I’ll be good from now on!”  you yell.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”  Din states as he pulls his hard cock out and pulls you on top of him in the seat.  He bounces you wildly as his cock throbs in your pussy.  His hands clench your skin and he lifts his head to the sky as he chases his orgasm.

No longer able to hold back, you cum wildly on his cock.  The feeling of your pussy fluttering with your orgasm spikes him into his own.  He pulls you tight against him and pushes as far as he can into you until he can’t even thrust anymore and releases his load moaning your name over and over.

You collapse into each other breathing heavily until you raise your sweat glistened face and look at Din’s helmet reflecting the bright blues of hyperspace whizzing by out the window.  He traces the lines of your collar bone and neck with his gloved hand and you watch as his helmet tilts left and right as he takes in all of the curves of your skin.   His touch is now gentle and docile.  He moves to get up and smoothly pushes you to your feet.  He stares at your naked body and his hands trace your silhouette.  He takes a step back and begins pulling off his armor, then his flight suit.  As he stands in his boxers and helmet he holds out his hand to you.  You take it and he leads you to bed for some much deserved rest.

The two of you cuddle up in the makeshift bed of blankets and pillows he made for you on the floor of the hull.

“We’ll be at Tatooine in the morning.”  He says to you, as you nuzzle against his bare chest.

“Okay…”  You say tiredly with your eyes closed.  He pulls the blanket up around the both of you, embraces you close and you both gently fall into slumber.

………..

The ship shifts out of hyperspace and you stir from your rest.  Sleepily, you pull your tattered tunic and pants on then fumble with your boots.  You make your way to the cockpit to see Din at the controls, bringing the ship down towards a large orange planet.  Din shifts his head up to look at you while he guides the ship into the planet.

“We’re going to land in a few minutes.”

“Okay.”  You chirp, excited to experience another planet.  

“I should warn you.  It’s much hotter down there than your home planet.  You may not be used to it.”

You shrug nonchalantly, “Are there monsters covered in eyes and teeth that will kill me?”

“No. But we are landing at a surly mechanics home and she can be… abrasive.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” you say confidently.

Din nods once looking at you and still unsure if you’re ready for this exposure.

Three small droids with wobbly heads and skinny arms flag the Razor Crest in to a landing.  Sand clouds up around the ship as it gently sinks onto the ground.  A woman with wild, curly hair and a dusty mechanics jumpsuit walks confidently up to the ship waving her hand happily with a wide grin.  The hull bay ramp lowers and Din strolls down to meet the Mechanic.  You lack the courage of your previous conviction as you clutch the doorframe of the hull ramp and peek out at the wild haired woman and her chaotic droids.

“Mando!”  She exclaims, “Good to see ya, buddy!”  Din nods his hello and walks up to her, “So where is this passenger of yours?”  She swivels her head and looks around to find you.  Din looks back over his shoulder to see you suspiciously peering out from behind the doorframe of the hull ramp.

“She’s… uh… shy.  She’s never been off her home planet before.”  He motions with his hand for you to come down and you step out onto the top of the ramp and cautiously begin descending towards them.

“Skinny little thing, aint she?”  The mechanic says eyeing you up.

Din puts an arm around you to guide you forward and shake hands with the woman.

“This is Peli… a good friend of mine.” 

Peli sticks her hand proudly out to you and you question it at first but then slide your hand meekly into hers as you look around your surroundings.  Her mechanic shop reminds you of home with random dusty ship parts scattered around.  There are a few ships in various states of repair parked around the lot.

“Your air hurts my skin.”  You say wrinkling your nose in discomfort at the heat and loosely shaking Peli’s hand without making eye contact and peering around your new, suspicious, surroundings.

“Yeeeeah…” Peli trails off side-eyeing Din slightly confused, “The desert will do that.”

One of her droids approaches and looks up at you with some questioning beeps.

“What’s that?!?”  You excitedly exclaim as you rush over to it and pick it up.  As you are distracted with inspecting the droid wiggling in your grasp as it tries to escape, Peli leads Din aside.

“Hey, so… Is she okay?  She looks like she crawled out of a tomb.”  Peli comments on your lack of socialization and general appearance.

“She’s never been off her planet and was the only human on it so she’s not very… " Din pauses to find the words, "accustomed… to society.”  Din chooses his words carefully so as to not dissuade Peli from interacting with you.

“Poor thing…” Peli trails off looking at you with pitty as you rigorously shake her droid upside down by its legs, curiously.

“I need to get in contact with some people.  I need a bounty - a big payout one.  So I need to contact someone for some help with it.  While I do that, can you take her to get some… uh… more appropriate clothing?” 

“Girls day?”  Peli asks excitedly, “Of course!  I’d love to!”  She opens her arms then claps them together and rubs them excitedly.  “But you know, a woman’s touch for things like this will cost you extra.”  She tilts her head and smiles slyly.

“Of course.”  Din hands her a small bag of credits.  “And tune up the ship while your at it.  All the credits you will need for the clothes, ship and your services are in there.”

“Well..”  Peli licks her lips as she opens the bag, “I’ll be the judge of that!”

She walks towards you stretching out her arms happily.

“Hey!  Guess who’s gonna have a spa day with me?” She calls to you.

“What’s a spa?” you question back to her dropping the droid who frantically scurries off.

“Oh honey,”  Peli says to you, “You have to find better taste in men if he hasn’t treated you to a spa…”  She looks back over her shoulder and eyes Din.

Din crosses his arms as Peli harshly plants her arm around your shoulders and begins walking you out of the premises and towards the market.

Return to Masterlist

#star wars #din djarin #mandalorain fluff #din djarin fluff #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #razor crest #star wars fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #peli motto #mandalorian smutt #din djarin smutt #tatooine #din djarin fanfic #mandalorian #pedro pascal

[lizardlicks]

📝 💗 🔍

💗 already answered!

🔍Give a clue (a picture, emoji, a word, etc) and let your followers guess what a WIP is about. 🌨️🐺🍆🥰

📝Share a snippet of an unposted WIP, with or without context.

Azula is screaming. He’s never heard her scream before. Never seen her writhe, and snap, and snarl like something has possessed her. Guilt hammers his already aching heart with every hitch and shudder of her breath.

His feet begin to move. Katara holds his hand in both of her, trailing behind him as she says his name, low and warning, but she doesn’t try to stop him. When Zuko is almost close enough, only one more step away from being able to reach out, Azula’s eyes snap up to him.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Her back hits the metal grate so hard it rings as she throws herself away from him. She kicks, lashing out with an arch of fire that sails harmlessly over Zuko’s shoulder. She could have hit him. She had no reason to miss. That isn’t what stops Zuko short. What has him dropping his outstretched hand to hang limply at his side is the fear dancing behind the reflection of fire in her eyes. It it burns the whole way down his throat when he swallows, and settles like poison in his belly. Zuko understands, with sudden, and sickening clarity that he never wanted, why Uncle looked away.

#wip ask game #atla #zuko #azula #katara #the last agni kai

[bananakarenina]

The Origin and Purpose of Baseball - Richard Behm

It began on the veldt

when snakes were common,

and a woman

searching for food

saw the moon and thought

it was an egg

that her children might eat.

She plucked it from the sky

and took it home.

Her children kicked

and clawed and fought

and called each other other names,

until the woman and the moon

gave order to their games,

rules based on the rhythms

of the sea, birth, the geometry

of hope, the mysteries

of nines and threes.

So in the last of the ninth,

bases loaded, two out,

the pitcher hitches his belt,

winds, kicks a leg

at heaven,

and the egg spins toward the plate

where a child with a stick

that his mother used to batter snakes

waits.

When the child connects

it is the moon that rises,

that long line drive

into tomorrow, the crowd

thundering to its feet,

the ball sailing out of the park,

climbing again the night,

hanging there, cold, perfect,

out of reach.

#poetry #richard behm #baseball #line drives book #totality

[venushasvixens]

October 11th - Small Spaces (Spike Spiegel x Reader) / Kinktober 2021

[A/N] none. Except that I still have 6 more kinktober prompts to do and I am running of out juice.

WARNING: 18+, contains adult content

“Alright, now push the thrusters slowly.”

“Okay.”

Voosh!

“What the hell, (y/n)?! Stop, stop, stop!”

Skreeech!

The compacted space was full of tension and disappointment. Sitting in the driver’s seat, you put the brakes back on the Swordfish. There was no way you were ready to fly this ship, that was for damn sure. Sighing, you glanced back at your upset boyfriend, whose fingers pinched the bridge of his nose.

Flipping back around, you turned off the high-powered engine. This was Spike’s baby, the cowboy’s prized horse. Wrecking this would be the end of your relationship and a swift kick out from the Bebop. It would be best if you never touched or controlled the ship, even if this was your first time in it.

“I-I’m sorry.” You apologized, getting ready to get up and have Spike park it back into the hangar.

“Don’t be, I think I know why you’re not getting the hang of it.” He replied, his deep voice bouncing off of the clear glass dome of the cockpit.

“And what’s that?”

“You’re tense. You need to relax and work with the machine.”Spike proclaimed, putting both of your hands back onto the thrusters. You blushed as his back brushed against yours, shadowing over you.

“Go again.”

Putting yourself to it, you reversed back into position to launch. But even doing that stressed you out enough to just put it into park. Unlatching your seatbelt, you began to open the glass dome in defeat before having it forcefully shut back close.

“Let me give up while I still have my dignity.” You pleaded, wanting nothing but to save further embarrassment.

“I don't think so. Once you let your tension go, it's smooth sailing from here.” Spike replied. “Here, let me help you.”

Thinking that he’s going to get into the driver’s seat, you start to stand up, only to have Spike pull you into the back passenger seat with him.

“What are you doing-“ you protested before Spike’s lips were on yours, your head firmly being held in one place by his hand on your jaw. You respond back, slipping your tongue into his mouth, whimpering softly. A pep talk would have suffice, but this was better. Spike ran his hand down your heaving chest, giving each of your tits a nice squeeze before unbuttoning your pants.

Breaking away, you looked around the hangar. “S-spike, what if someone catches us?”

“They’re not, just relax.” He said before peppering your neck and shoulder with kisses. Wrapping his arm around your waist, keeping you locked against him. Your breath hitched in your throat as long, skilled fingers moved your panties to the side gingerly. Letting one digit slide up and down your slit slowly, you shivered at the sensation. And all the while, Spike just kept kissing you.

Pulling away, you watched as he used two fingers now, teasing you to annoyance. You whined, begging for further friction. Feeling your wetness drip onto your pants, you grew more desperate for Spike.

“P-please, I need you now.” You cried, showing your submissiveness to him by kissing his jaw and cheeks. Spike gave a smile out of the corner of his mouth, enjoying your torture and anything you would do for relief.

Sighing as one finger slid in between your folds, you gripped onto Spike’s arm. Moving it in and out steadily, he massaged your walls tenderly, careful not to rush. He was going to take his time with you, leading your focus onto yourself.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl.” Spike whispered in your ear, his voice gravelly and low. A normal conversation could get you going just hearing the deep growl in Spike’s voice, and he didn’t even have to try. “Do you like that?”

“Uh-huh.” You moaned, outstretching your hand up to cusp Spike’s stubbly face. God, you loved him so fucking much. “I c-can take more.”

Adding another finger to your dripping pussy, you sighed wistfully as Spike stretched you out. In and out, letting out a licks of pleasure. Words of affirmations and praise were quietly given from Spike, with lustful kisses implanted on those sweet spots on your neck.

“Do you think this can help?” Spike purred, allowing one digit out of you and delicately rubbing your clit. You squirmed at the touch, wanting to either laugh or cry. That’s all he was doing now, small slow circles all over the soft bud, tingles racing up your thighs. You felt the steps getting higher and higher, on the agonizing road to your orgasm. You were still some ways away, but it was getting closer. Wetness trickled out of you, leaking onto the seat below you. In no way were you concerned about getting the seat dirty, you just wanted to cum.

“Yes, yes! P-please keep doing that.” You cried, clutching on for dear life.

Spike’s head was resting on your shoulder, his cock getting rock hard from watching his hands at work, unraveling his sweet girl. He tried not to focus on it, wanting instead to put you in his spotlight. There was no change in his tempo, just at the right speed, and that's where he would stay. He didn’t want to have you uncomfortable, or else it would’ve been back at square one.

The need to cum grew stronger and stronger with each soft stroke. You closed your eyes shut, trying to center in on yourself. Your legs shook, threatening to clamped together. Spike took immediate notice, his other hand coming off your waist and under your thigh, forcing you open.

“Don’t give up now, c’mon baby,” he urged you on, hissing as your grasp on him grew tighter. Your loud moans reverberated off, music to Spike’s ears. He knew you couldn't take it anymore, you were nearing the top. “You can do it, cum on my hand.”

You let out a throaty short scream, all Spike’s hard work coming to an end. Your legs spasmed as you climaxed, hot tricklets streaming down from your pussy. Ecstasy flew from your fingertips and toes, finally alleviating the pressure you carried. Your body sunk into your beloved’s, a small head rub helping you recover. There really wasn't that much room to do anything, but to be held closely to each other.

“Thank you.” You exhaled, fanning your sweaty neck. Spike grinned, kissing the temple of your forehead.

“Anything to help ya.” He murmured, his hands kneading your shoulders and back gently before giving a small energetic pat.

“Alright, lets try this again.”

#fanfiction #cowboy bebop #faye valentine #90s anime #jet black #radio free mars #see you space cowboy #spike spiegel x reader #spike spiegel #spike spiegel requests #kinktober2021 #kinktober

[paellaplease]

Hi, I see you're taking requests! If it hasn't been done yet, could you do aspectabund with Revali please? I love your writing <3

2. aspectabund - letting emotion show easily through the face or eyes

pairing: revali x reader

summary:  he knows you’ve been avoiding him and he can’t seem to figure out why.

  Shaking the snow from his feathers, Revali surveyed the layered red rock of Mount Agaat with a scrutinizing gleam in his eyes. The reconnaissance flyby over the ice covered peaks had proven successful, with him safely scouting out several bokoblin camps under the cover of cloud. 

Mindful of the tripwire, he entered the makeshift campsite to find you and the Gerudo Chief conversing quietly by the fire. You appeared in deep contemplation, and out of respect (and perhaps partial curiosity) he made no move to announce his arrival. 

Urbosa crossed her arms, turning to you with a sly smile adorning her lip. “You can’t keep dancing around each other forever.” 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, fiddling with one of your winter gloves. “It’s highly likely he won’t understand anyway.” 

“I’m sure his feelings on the matter are not as dissimilar as you think. Besides...” She leaned forward, whispering something into your ear. 

Warmth creeping up to your cheeks, your face was in your hands in an instant, body leaning forward as Urbosa let out a short laugh at your exaggerated reaction. Cute.

The mortified groan you gave in response made him chuckle, finally alerting you both to his presence. 

The Gerudo Chief angled her head and gave a brief nod in his direction, most likely having sensed his presence ages ago. In stark contrast, you quickly spun in your seat, mouth agape. 

Nearly falling from the log, Urbosa reached out to snag the hood of your coat, saving your face from smashing into the dirt ground. Revali tsked, you should really be more aware of your surroundings. 

"Revali!” Immediately, you bit down on your lip, schooling your face into something more subdued. “Welcome back." 

Tilting his head, he found it odd how difficult it was for you to maintain eye contact. Your cheeks were darker at this point, the tip of your nose slightly red. His wings itched to readjust the scarf wrapped loosely around your neck. Perhaps you were cold. That won’t do. 

"Did I miss anything?" He asked, looking pointedly at Urbosa. 

He would never admit it but the Chief maintained a steadfast poker face. “I have nothing to share.” Standing up, she moved to add more kindling to the fire. “No monster has dared approach us yet.”

Judging by the impressive blades hanging from both your hips, he wasn’t surprised. Rubbing at his shoulders, he swiped a wing over the rocky expanse before them. “Good. And thanks to me, we now have a greater chance of avoiding them on the way up.”

He didn’t miss the way your body froze when Urbosa offered for him to take her seat. Not seeing any issue and assuming it to be a response to the cold of the mountain, he acquiesced. 

The mission was completed without a hitch, the swing of your blade delivering the killing blow to the fierce lynel that guarded the peak of the mountains. Revali tried not to stare as you cleaned your blade on the snow, ignoring the errant beat of his heart as you turned to smile at him, skin still flushed from the heat of battle. 

“It comes to no surprise that you are the Gerudo Chief’s apprentice.” He nodded, unable to hide the hint of admiration in his voice.

Tugging at the sleeves of your flowing blue jacket, your eyes were wide and shining, mouth close to admitting something profound and important. Revali kept his beak shut, waiting for you to say what you needed, disappointed when all it came to be was a simple “Thanks.” 

You then proceeded not to speak to him for the rest of the week. 

It was a shame really, you were one of the few allies he could stand for more than five minutes. The Rito thought you were diligent; a fighter that could tame a tempest, and most of all a worthy opponent when it came to the odd verbal sparring match. 

Never had you shied away from a challenge, especially one posed by him. He was invested in your progress, secretly standing guard on the nights you would sneak out to train, ensuring that no person nor creature would disturb you. What's worse, a part of him honestly thought that you had begun to consider him as something close to a friend. 

And now...

“I’ll scout the area!” 

Revali sighed as he watched your retreating form once again, the remaining Champions looking at each other with equal confusion at your sudden disappearance into the forest. He didn’t know what your problem was, and honestly one more day of these mixed messages was going to drive him insane. 

Slipping past him like water, you evaded him at all costs. Taking your meals alone or with different people, changing the location of your training sessions, waking up unbearably early or extremely late. 

Then, on day eight of this madness, he found you sparring with a particular golden-haired knight that he couldn’t stand. That was the last straw. 

“Fight me,” he said to you, uncaring of the other knights on the training field that stopped to stare at him approaching. The sword in his wing, though blunted, felt foreign and heavy. Long has it been since he last held a blade like this. 

Taking off your helmet, you rubbed at your eyes to see if it was truly him. “Revali?” Funny, that was the first thing you’d said to him in days. “Where’s your bow? Ah, it seems you’ve forgotten.” You were already in the process of collecting your things. “Perhaps next time. It wouldn’t be fair if you had to fight me with a sword, after all…”

He scoffed, watching as you turned to leave. “Oh, so you plan on running away again like a scared fledgling?” 

The training sword sailed past his head, missing his cheek by only a fraction. You didn't give him a second to flinch. 

Revali side-stepped away, making a move to swing his sword at your back. Feet sliding, you blocked it with ease, sword already there to intercept his own even before it completed its arc through the air. 

Experimentally, he pushed back on the blade. Dead still, it refused to budge. He tilted his head to capture your eyes, thrilled to see the burning embers behind them, all passivity long abandoned. There you are. “Nice to see you,” he grinned wryly. 

Both of you separated quickly. Circling each other, his eyes took in the determined clench of your jaw and the steady rise and fall of your chest, waiting for when you’d launch yourself forward again. 

"Not bad," you smirked. “Another one from that bag of tricks Chief Kamori taught you?” Your confidence in the moment was rather enthralling. Once again he found himself memorizing the planes of your face, reveling in the way your emotions would flit past—clear as day. 

“Just you wait til I’m in the air with a bow in my hand." 

"That's surprising!" You grinned, teeth sharp. "Didn't think the Great Revali was so reliant on keeping to the skies.” A cloud of dirt was kicked up as you propelled yourself forward. Taking the hilt with both hands, you raised your sword to strike heavily down on his head. “But isn’t it pretty when he finally comes down to your level.” 

With a grunt, Revali barely had time to strengthen his stance, bringing his blade up to block your attack. The clashing of swords sent his talons skidding back on the dirt, the muscles in his arms straining against the weight of the blow. 

“You’re insane!” He laughed breathily. “That could have cleaved my skull in two.”

“I knew you’d block it.” 

The fight soon became the only other sound in the training field, many of the knights having left to complete their drills somewhere else. Even that quiet Hylian was no longer there, taking his leave once confident you could hold your own. 

Of course they can defend themselves. He wanted to call out in mocking arrogance. And if they ever were in trouble they wouldn’t need you anyway. Because I’m here. 

Taking a deep breath, you launched yourself at him again, delivering several attacks in a series of sweeping motions. Revali found himself having to focus intently on each one, blocking one after the other, eyes following the movement of your arm in an attempt to anticipate where the blade would next appear. 

As such, he doesn’t notice the sweeping motion of your leg, the action sending him falling backwards into the ground. 

Unlucky for you, the Rito had known the feeling of falling all his life. And before you had the chance to step away, he discarded his blade, reaching out to drag you down with him. 

The air was knocked out of him as you landed painfully on his chest. Your sword slipped from your hand, clattering to the side. Revali pushed it further away when you tried to reach for it, trapping you against him with his other wing. 

Stilling, he could feel the rush of your heartbeat against his own. From on top, you glared at him. “Let me go, fights not over.” 

“Call it an intermission, darling.” You went red at that, smushing your head into his chest so as to hide the wild blush on your cheeks. “This fight is on hold until you tell me why you’ve been avoiding me this whole week.” 

“Because you’re…”

“What was that?” He said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. 

“Because you’re you!” You finally let out. An angry scream left your throat, except because your face was still pressed to his front it came out as muffled and rather adorable. 

Revali rested his head on the ground as he exhaled, finding peace in the never ending sea of blue stretched out above you both. “Well,” he said, interrupting the little breakdown you were having. “Of course I’m me, there’s no one else really.  Unless you’ve met another Rito of the same name with razor sharp wit and devilishly good looks.” 

You huffed a laugh, finally lifting your head to look at him. This close and he could see the fan of your eyelashes and the kiss of the sun on your cheeks. It took everything in him not to reach out and trace the line of your mouth, wondering if your lips were as soft as they appeared. 

“I’ve been avoiding you because I like you, silly bird.” Blinking, you gazed at him with utter softness and sincerity. “And I apologise for running. I intended to tell you earlier— on the mountain. But self-doubt got the best of me and I didn’t want you to stop being my friend if you didn’t feel the same.”

Revali’s wings fell to his sides as you shifted, propping yourself up with both your arms. “Guess there’s nothing to worry about now that it’s out in the open.” A watery laugh escaped from your lips when he said nothing. “Come on, Revali. Say something. Or at least stand up so I can kick your ass.” 

His arms were around you once again in an instant, crushing you to him in a tight embrace. “Rito, if this is some kind of trick to knock me off my guard I swear…” He could feel your smile as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck. 

“I like you too.” He shook his head, poking you in the side and smiling when you yelped in response. “You are amazing and skillful. I enjoy every moment I spend with you. Though you overthink too much. Alas, but the curse of one so perceptive.” 

“Still don’t know if that’s an insult or a compliment.” You mouthed into his neck. His feathers raised at the feeling of your warm breath against him. “Though I’m extremely relieved that Urbosa was right.” 

Revali thought back to the mission at Mount Agaat, wondering what exactly the Gerudo Chief told you back then. “Right about what?”

“That you can’t take your eyes off me, even if you tried.” 

#revali x reader #revali botw x reader #revali/reader #revali #revali botw #botw #rito #botw x reader #monkey brain: revali with sword #mutual pinin with a hint of hot fightin #liberosis part 3 coming soon i just needed to get this off my chest

[hualianff]

Untethered (Bonus II) 《Bonus I》

For the first time in his life, XL feels like he can speak without the pressures and expectations of being a prince weighing down on his shoulders. He watches his facial expressions in the mirror as he rambles about the various meetings he had for the day. The subtle dancing of his eyebrows, rapid blinking of his eyes, and pinched corners of his lips—all indicative of how animated he is when summarizing his duties that seemed more like work than anything else.

The fact that HC is here, brushing his hair, and listening with occasional intrigued hums make XL reinvigorated as his role as prince. Despite the demanding energy, control, and fairness the role takes, XL is incredibly grateful for the privilege and promises himself to continue to fulfill this purpose to the best of his abilities.

So far, XL believes he’s done a sufficient job, preparing to ascend to the throne. After hearing him speak, he secretly hopes HC thinks so too.

“Ah, San Lang, thank you for kindly tending to my hair. It looks wonderful,” XL says once he feels the final knots come undone by HC’s broad strokes.

“Of course it looks wonderful. It is His Highness, after all,” the pirate captain comments smoothly. XL can’t help but smile at the compliment.

HC goes to place the comb back on the vanity. He switches it out for a short ribbon that shimmers silver when hit by the moonlight.

“Allow me to do one more thing,” HC adds. He gathers all of XL’s hair to fall behind his shoulders, the strands still a bit damp. With practiced movements, HC parts the prince’s hair into three sections, then begins braiding the pieces into a thick, tight section.

XL licks his lips in anticipation. Though he’s had his hair styled a thousand times before, this is HC who currently braids his long locks, a gesture that seems a bit intimate.

Not that you mind, XL briefly thinks.

“How have the last few weeks treated San Lang?” He asks, reminding HC of his promise to talk about his days on the ocean. HC pulls the pieces of hair tighter, focused on creating a simple yet consistent and neat braided pattern for the prince.

“Troublesome. There’s a new pirate ship we have encountered several times. They said they want to challenge us for our water territories, which is a load of shit because the sea belongs to no one,” HC spits out heatedly. His tone is harsh but his touch is gentle as ever. “I honestly think the captain wants to mess with me. Make me question my reign as the ‘most feared, ruthless, and violent pirate to sail the waters.’”

“Oh. I see,” XL says hesitantly. He’s not very familiar with the inside knowledge of pirate ways and society other than what is generalized by the public. And the palace’s gossip, of course.

Suddenly, a rush of hot air tickles XL’s ear. XL locks eyes with HC through the mirror, heart stuttering at the dark, hungry look in the pirate’s eye.

“What does His Highness think?”

“Think about what?”

“My reputation. Does the real thing live up to your imagination?” HC questions with a sly smirk, quickly tying the ribbon at the end of the braid, then moving it to fall over XL’s right shoulder. XL only has a few seconds to marvel at the stunning handiwork before HC leans forward even more, urging XL to turn toward him, their faces mere centimeters apart.

The pirate captain smells like manly musk mixed in with the ocean breeze. XL nervously gulps.

“I- um,” XL starts, feeling his face heat up. “Hmm, maybe not entirely...”

HC’s eye slowly flits down XL’s face. XL remains still, mentally kicking himself for wondering what it would feel like to close the small gap and-

“Fair enough,” HC remarks, pulling away, leaving a rush of air in his wake. “I suppose I’m not the madman people say I am. After all, His Highness wouldn’t have let me into his room otherwise, no?”

Something hot burns inside XL’s gut. He had to let HC in! If the pirate were discovered by the palace guards, he’d be imprisoned indefinitely for sure! XL was simply doing an act of service for HC...nothing too outrageous like HC implied.

Nope, none at all.

“You’re blushing.“

“San Lang better take a good look around lest this is the only time I invite him into my room,” XL huffs out, resolutely facing forward and avoiding HC’s penetrating gaze.

“Forgive me, Your Highness. I was simply teasing,” HC says, though he doesn’t sound all that apologetic. “A prince like you must have many admirers to choose from. I shall not take this privilege for granted.”

“Admirers? Where on Earth did you get that from?” XL asks, appalled. He hasn’t taken interest in any of the brides his father provided, much less traveled to other kingdoms in a serious pursuit to find one to marry.

“Is there not a ball happening this coming week? For you to choose a suitable woman to become your queen?” HC inquiries nonchalantly. He tucks a rogue curl behind XL’s ear, the prince subtly leaning into the touch.

XL whips around in astonishment, braid flying to his other shoulder.

“How did you know!?”

“I have ears on land, my prince. Even when I’m out sailing the sea,” HC says. “We have also passed numerous royal ships carrying your guests for the celebration.”

XL wilts in his seat.

It’s not much of a celebration if XL hadn’t wanted to host an engagement ball in the first place. Years of his father’s insistent pushing have led to more frequent gatherings with other royalty in hopes that XL finds a fiancé.

Unlike his parents, XL wasn’t betrothed from a young age. Furthermore, he hasn’t expressed  any interest in marriage even once becoming an adult.

(“Your mother and I were married at twenty. You, my son, are already twenty-two,” the king always said. “You should quickly find a princess who catches your eye. The sooner you get yourself a wife, the sooner she will start learning her duties as queen.”)

XL has successfully put off marriage for a couple of years, deferring to his rigorous training schedule and duties as prince as an excuse. Fortunately, his mother is willing to let XL take his time, as the king isn’t set to retire anytime soon. After all, XL learning his responsibilities as king is the most important task.

HC instantly notices XL’s deflated expression. He attempts to backpedal.

“I had no right to bring that up. If this is something Gege does not want to discuss, then, by all means, he may change the subject,” HC says quietly. Respectfully.

“No. It is fine. It is by no means a secret at all. The ball has been scheduled for weeks now,” XL murmurs while looking at his bare feet. He fiddles with the long braid, smoothing over the tightly wrapped strands absent-mindedly. “I’m not actively looking for a wife or anything. At least, I don’t want to...”

“Your Highness-“

“San Lang.”

HC’s mouth snaps shut. He straightens his back with his shoulders set square, standing at attention in front of the Prince of Xianle.

“Could you do something for me? A small favor, if you will.”

“Anything,” HC immediately answers.

XL subconsciously chews on his lower lip, a habit that his closest friend SQX reprimands him for doing because it tears up both the old and healing skin. Easy to overdo, not a quick fix, SQX claims.

XL rises to his feet. He holds his hand out to the pirate, palm facing upwards.

Where’s My Love – SYML

“Will you dance with me?”

“I’m afraid gege will be sorely disappointed with this one’s lack of skill,” HC says as a matter-of-fact, but he doesn’t hesitate to accept XL’s hand, his long fingers blanketing XL’s own.

The prince’s heart skips a beat as the pirate pulls him close until their chests almost touch. XL feels small; HC’s heeled boots to XL’s bare feet exaggerate their height difference, XL only coming up to HC’s chest.

XL feels small but strangely, he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“San Lang needs only to follow my lead,” XL says, looking up with a smile. He properly intertwines their left and right hands, then places HC’s other hand on his shoulder. Finally, XL goes to hold the pirate’s waist, the thin fabric giving way to the hard muscle underneath.

“Gege must have danced with a lot of pretty women before,” HC muses, moving his feet as XL slowly guides him into a waltz. XL hopes it isn’t just him imagining a slow, romantic piece to harmonize their movements.

“Is San Lang jealous?” XL asks without thinking.

Goodness, did those words seriously just come out of his mouth? Other than his eyes widening in slight horror, XL schools his face into a calm expression, not wanting to seem conceited or even desperate.

HC peers down with a lazy smirk, almost crowding into the prince as they turn to dance in a circle. Despite XL’s effort to appear unfazed by the prospect of HC envying those who’ve had the opportunity to dance with the Prince of Xianle, the pirate still catches the hopeful flicker of XL’s eyelashes.

“A little bit. Though in a way, I’ve had my fair share of dances with Gege myself,” HC states proudly, referring back to their previous sparring sessions. The break in focus has HC stumbling over his feet, prompting XL to squeeze his waist as a reprimand to concentrate.

“Ah, yes. San Lang’s skill is undeniable in that aspect,” XL says, laughing. “He’s also the first and only man I’ve danced ever with.”

“What an honor,” HC purrs out, and then he lowers XL into an abrupt dip, holding the prince by his hip and upper back.

XL’s breath hitches, wondering how they seamlessly switched positions. HC tenderly stares down at the prince, a twinkle dimly reflecting in his left eye.

“San Lang...” XL whispers, clutching onto HC’s shoulders. His long braid feels heavy like rope where it hangs down, nearly touching the ground.

“Your Highness.”

Their faces are millimeters apart, skimming each other’s noses. They’ve never been this close before, especially not in the absence of any sort of weapon. No one besides the king and queen, palace servants, and bodyguards are even allowed to touch the prince.

Now here he is, in the arms of the infamous Crimson Rain, on the verge of letting himself want.

Tentatively, XL licks his lips before asking, “Why do you always come back?”

“Gege knows this answer too,” HC solemnly says.

XL tilts his chin up, eyelids starting to lower.

“I come back for you, my dear Prince.”

As HC leans down—still supporting XL’s weight—XL meets him halfway for their first proper kiss, alone together in the prince’s room where the pale moonlight spills through the balcony doors. It’s a light and airy peck, one that ends way too soon for XL’s liking.

When they pull apart, HC stands XL back up. The pirate notices XL’s robe has slid off one shoulder. He goes to pull it back up but XL quickly grasps his jaw for another kiss instead.

They part again.

“Just...one more-“ XL breathes out, adrenaline coursing through his veins. HC’s lips are warm and firm, easily pliable as they press deliciously against XL’s own. “...one more.”

HC gladly obliges.

Their kisses gradually pick up in pace, HC’s hands respectively exploring the span of XL’s back, his hips, and sides. XL eagerly pulls HC over to the edge of his bed, spinning them around so he can climb onto the pirate’s lap.

HC groans low in his throat, comfortably looping his arms around XL’s waist.

At this point, all of XL’s reservations have been cast aside and he’s going to act on the desires concerning a certain pirate that have been taunting him for months now, damn it.

XL surges forward with a force that knocks HC back against the soft mattress.

“Your Highness,” HC growls between kisses, still trying to cover up XL’s shoulder, and now his chest where the robe is loose enough to reveal noticeable cleavage. XL shifts a bit to align their hips, unintentionally rubbing against HC. “Shit-“

“Hua Cheng-“ XL hums, belatedly realizing his slip up. HC nips at his lip for his mistake.

“San L-lang,” XL mewls like the starved for affection prince that he is. HC’s tongue darts out to swipe across XL’s upper lip. Then, his lower lip.

XL naturally opens up for him, gasping as HC’s hot tongue licks inside his mouth with a dominance that consumes XL. The more XL lets his lust cloud his movement, the faster he feels himself harden.

When XL’s hands brush along HC’s hair, they accidentally graze onto his eyepatch. HC grunts in surprise, which has XL springing back as the situation of the last five minutes dawns upon him.

He sits up on HC’s thighs, placing his palms on the pirate’s chest. Underneath him, HC is a gorgeous vision–thick, wavy hair splayed out on XL’s pillow, lips swollen and spit-slicked.

“Oh my- oh my lord,” XL chokes out, completely breathless. “Was- was that t-too much?”

“Not at all, Your Highness,” HC replies with a rogue-ish smirk. “Come here.”

HC embraces his prince with long arms, squeezing tightly and pressing a series of kisses to the top of XL’s head. XL hesitantly rests his cheek on HC’s sternum, aware of how close their bodies are pressed together.

“Who knew Gege could kiss like that?”

“Like what?” XL questions petulantly.

“Like a shameless minx,” the pirate captain answers, chuckling when XL whines at the implication.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” XL shyly admits.

“Me too,” HC murmurs. XL lifts his head, crosses his arms on HC’s chest, then sets his chin on them. “Since the moment I saw you sitting alone at the pub.”

“You wanted to kiss the crown prince at first sight?” XL asks, pretending to be scandalized. HC kisses the tip of XL’s nose. XL scrunches it up in response.

“Hmm, my prince now.”

“Well, your prince would very much like it if San Lang stays the night.”

“I must be back at the harbor before dawn,” HC says, stroking XL’s hair. “However, I can most certainly afford to accompany Gege while he sleeps.”

XL happily snuggles close to HC, not worrying quite so much about the ball now that he has something going on with HC. To his astonishment, the pirate seems to return his affections quite enthusiastically. As a prince with the duty to serve his people, XL reckons he deserves this moment of happiness.

After another hour of blissful exchanging kisses and aimless conversation, XL feels himself begin to drift. He hears a whispered promise from HC who protectively curls around him.

“I will never bring you harm, Your Highness. Your heart is safe with me.”

XL falls asleep into a dreamless slumber.

***

Present...

As if it happens in slow motion, XL swings the sword with all the power he possesses. HC’s arms stretch open in vulnerability, lips forming into a small, understanding smile.

“Gege.”

Something inside XL shatters. The familiar term of endearment is for XL’s ears only. His heart pounds against his rib cage with the ferocity of an imprisoned soul, screaming at XL to ask not what he would wish for in death, but what is he willing to live for?

The answer is right in front of him.

“I’m back.”

Three things happen at once.

A deafening BOOM fires at the royal ship from the opposite direction, pitch-black flags with the symbolic skeleton of a fish piercing through the chilly air.

Simultaneously, a blinding flash of lightning strikes across the sky, signaling an even more intense downpour of rain that obscures everyone’s vision. Surprised screams echo somewhat mutely among the roaring winds.

Lastly, XL swings his sword so it barely skims the open blouse HC wears and keeps rotating until it crosses behind him, where he lets it go flying back to the royal ship.

At that moment, XL leaps forward into HC’s embrace, where those long arms encircle his waist, and both men are sent tumbling down into the crashing waves of the raging ocean.

《VI》

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #pirate & prince au #cerdrabbles #TBC #tian guan ci fu #the bonus had to be split into two #I really just wanted to write Hualian’s first kiss here hehe #we back in the present babyyy

[honey-sweeeet]

blind devotion; erwin smith

(cross posted from my ao3)

You and Erwin have always danced around each other, and you have funny ways of showing how you care. 

cw; major angst?

word count; 8k

It felt like the ground was being torn up, dust was rising and mingling with the flares, colouring the sky the worst shade of black. The abnormal flares were rising, steadily ripping through the right wing of the squadron, and they were heading straight towards the centre ranks. They were completely ignoring the left side, and they were all coming from the same direction in what seemed like a coordinated attack, but this was impossible. Titans are not herd creatures, they do not flock like sheep or hunt like wolf packs. They mindlessly trample and devour, with not a thought in their steam filled skulls. Theoretically, it was completely impossible for this to be happening.

But it was.

"Commander! Your orders." Came the harrowing scream of one of the messenger cadets as they came hurtling towards Erwin's ranks. He did not even move, staying perfectly astride his horse as the ground continued to erupt around you all and the sky was slowly clouding over with black flares like spilled ink over a notebook. Erwin thought for a moment, completely blocking out the frantic screams of the terrified child beside Miche. From your position on the other side of Erwin, you could practically feel the thoughts churning through his head.

"We head for the treeline, send the wagons into the forest. The outside ranks are to turn around the forest and take position in the trees. Then await further orders." He finally enunciated, not even showing the slightest bit of concern or panic. As the cadet peeled back over to the remnants of the right ranks, you peeled away to relay the message to the left rank. Miche was completely impassive too, knowing the order was to give away no hint of knowledge about Erwin's master plan. If you were to act as if you expected this to happen, then the game would be up. The order last night was to stay impassive, give nothing away, and to focus on the real mission here. Your horse swerved suddenly around a ditch, and you leaned into the movement for fear of overbalancing and going flying into the meadow at full speed. Nobody would come find you then, not until they were about to run right over you.

A group of 104th cadets came into your view, the brunette you always caught sneaking into the officer's kitchen and her bald accomplice.

"Orders from Commander Erwin Smith. You are to head for the treeline, at which point you turn around the forest to allow the wagons inside. You are to hitch your horses below and take position in the trees to await further instructions. Relay the message cadets," You yell over the thundering of hooves and the screaming of birds sailing fair above you.

"At once!" The bald one cried, half saluting with reins in his hand as he whirls his horse away to the next line of soldiers. You nod to the brunette, and immediately beeline back towards the Command Rank where Erwin was likely preparing for you to head into the forest, and to lay your trap. The closer you got to the centre rank, the blacker the sky was becoming. More and more flares had been released into the sky, but the single green one cutting right through towards the forest was an ominous sign. The trap was likely already set, and on the horizon behind you, Levi squad was preparing to lead the female titan into the forest, using Eren as bait. Your horse swings around into the treeline, kicking up a burst of dust as the dry floor littered with tree roots takes over. You can tell the wagons have already beaten you here, as their distinct wheel tracks lead you to the trap site. The technicians Hange brought along fly over your head on ODM gear as they rush to pin the harpoon barrels in place. Those things were packed to the brim with gunpowder, they had the explosive power of a cannon, but instead of firing buckshot they fired hardened steel harpoons. One of Hange's best creations - you'd been floored when they came to you in the Officer's quarters, asking for you to help piece together something capable of holding a titan in place. You thought it couldn't be done, but you'd seen the test firing of the harpoon barrels on covert scouting missions. Those things had a kick that had you worried if one were to backfire and explode rather than fire, would the operator be done for? You spot the horses and the wagons, a few metres into the woodland - well away from the main trail running through the forest. Erwin didn't want your transport to be caught in the crossfire of the female titan, so he'd ordered them to be hitched well away from the harpoons lest something go astray. Slowing your steed, you turn it towards the group and one of the wagon crew came running over to take your horse from you.

"Ma'am!" The short man yelled, saluting as he took the reins of your horse and allowed you to dismount.

"At ease." You replied, tilting your head directly backwards to scour the tree branches for signs of Erwin. The scout capes blended into the forest alarmingly well, and it left you wondering if that was the reason behind their design in the first place. The emerald green could barely be distinguished from the foliage, and the oak brown boots could barely be told apart from the branches - only the crisp white trousers of the uniform gave away any sign that there were people hiding in the trees, waiting.

Despite telling your subordinate to be at ease, you were truly on edge. You only hoped that this plan would work as well as you had imagined it, all of those late night meetings in Erwin's office, gathered around his table with Miche and Hange, listening to Erwin and Levi bounce ideas back and forth about how to best uncover the female titan's identity.

As you paced along the dusty ground, walking towards the main trail through the forest, a shrill whistle split through the air. That was it, that was the signal. Without a second's hesitation, you took off into the trees and watched as the rest of the supply chain also launched to position. You found your place beside Miche, crouched on one of the thick branches about twenty meters off the ground. Erwin was on the branch in front of you, hood pulled up ominously. Distant thundering of titan feet echoed between the branches, heeding destruction heading towards you. You know what you have to do, the priority is capturing the female titan alive, so any scouts privy to the plan that weren't in charge of harpoon barrels were ordered to cut down anything in the way of the plan.

It was somewhat chilling that Erwin had stated 'anything' rather than simply saying 'titans' because that implied that people would be crazy enough to interfere...

You tried to not think about it too much.

Not too far away, you could see a small cloud of dust rising through the leaves. Levi squad would be on you within a few minutes, and Erwin would raise the signal to fire. There was no movement aside from the branches swaying in the breeze. Not even the birds dared to leave their nests, and none of them chirped. Since the whistle had been sounded, there was no sound aside from the rustling of leaves and pounding of titan steps. In that split second, you realised what it meant to be in the calm before a storm. That eerie silence that settled over the world, that would usually be peaceful but instead you only feel that heavy weight of dread knowing that something terrible was about to happen.

About twenty metres in front of you, charging at full speed, was Levi squad. And less than a second behind them was the hulking form of the female titan. She was even more grotesque than a regular titan - no skin, only muscle. You could see every single sinew and tendon sliding over each other as she moved, faint wisps of steam evaporating from the joints in her knees and hands. Where the cartilage slid over the muscle fibres, you wondered if you could see blood vessels. But she was moving too fast for you to properly observe her.

When she was just in range, Erwin screams from beside you: "Fire!"

He held his sword aloft, and it glinted in the sun for a second before the crackling of harpoon barrels began to take over the sounds of branches rustling. Levi lead his squad onwards, careening out of the range of the harpoons. Taken completely off guard, the female titan was locked in place, and you watched as Hange's barbed metal began to tear through the titan flesh. It locked in place, and could not be pulled out backwards without taking chunks of skin with it. It was effectively created to prevent struggling, pinning it in place while it could be observed.

A second round was fired immediately, before the barrels had even finished smoking. One of the harpoons ricocheted off the back of the titan's shoulder and it was sent off course flying directly towards you. Miche lunged to grab you by the cape, pulling you backwards from the line of fire.

"Erwin! Get back!" You screamed, free falling in Miche's grasp as he panicked to anchor you both. Erwin did not move, he did not even flinch, he watched as the harpoon bounced off the branch just inches from his foot. He did not blink.

A huge chunk of the wood was taken out as the harpoon lodged into the tree and promptly dropped back to the ground, unable to pierce the depth of the branch. You lurched as Miche anchored you to the tree trunk, and winced as the sudden stop caused you to jostle in his grasp. He had managed to grab you by the strap of your harness, and as you dangled there, it was tightening around your ribs and painfully digging in. It was undoubtedly less painful than if you'd been struck by that harpoon or left to free fall all the way to the forest floor, though.

"You okay?" He asked, wincing as the leather of the strap bit into his palm.

"Winded but alive," You gasp, attempting to manoeuvre yourself into a position in which you could utilise your ODM gear properly.

Above you, Levi dropped onto the branch beside Erwin, and glanced down at you and Miche clinging onto the tree desperately. Judging you both to be safe, he reported to Erwin while you set to returning to your position.

When you returned to the tree, Erwin ordered Miche and Levi to extract the occupant of the female titan. Hange down below was in charge of deploying more harpoons at their own discretion, trusted with ensuring the titan could not move to escape. You watched as Levi and Miche's swords shattered time and time again as they went after the hands covering the nape of the titan's neck.

"Erwin, it appears that it can selectively harden parts of it's body at will," You observed out loud, squinting at the captured titan before you. Miche returned to his post beside you, shaking his head as he held the remaining stumps of his blades for you to see. Erwin signaled over one of the technicians, not shifting his gaze from the titan. You knew he had heard you, but this was Erwin's way. He would listen without giving a hint of acknowledging your point until he had thoroughly thought it over and then worked through different solutions. He never seemed to give in, he just changed his mind depending on the situation, and the information available to him.

"Prepare the explosives. Blow off it's hands." He ordered.

"Yes sir, but the firepower of the explosives we carry may also damage the person inside." Warned the technician.

"Then set it to amputate at the wrists. Set them off at my signal."

"Roger." The technician retreated, ordering explosives to be brought up from the supply wagons at once.

"I don't trust this." You observe. "That titan is intelligent, it knows we don't have the time to throw away dissecting it. It's going to try hold out as long as possible and seize the first opportunity we give it."

"Then we don't give it any chances to move. You and Hange engineered these yourself, you know the firepower behind them. Do you believe that titan is capable of escaping the harpoons?" He asked, and you could tell it was a genuine query rather than a patronising jab.

"I don't believe that titan could escape the harpoons." You confirm, glancing back towards it. "But, I do believe it isn't going to be this easy to capture the person controlling it. If they've managed to evade detection for the last five years, they likely have many plans in place for such events." You both returned to watching Levi stand on the head of the titan, goading it with all of the insults in his arsenal. He likely had a lot of hate harboured towards that specific titan, especially since you'd heard the report that the rear guard reinforcements were completely wiped out buying time for Levi squad to arrive at the trap point. You had to wonder if his tactic of angering the titan was a smart thing to do, especially knowing that the titan was capable of rending every single person present into hundreds of bloody chunks of meat. Because if the titan somehow got out of the harpoon trap, you were all undoubtedly done for if you had no hope of even beating it. Erwin turned to you, likely to respond, but he was cut off by the most horrific sound you'd ever heard. The titan was screaming, a high pitched wail splitting the sky. Everyone was covering their ears and wincing, trying to block out the ringing in their skulls. A few of the technicians closest to the ground pulled their hands away from their ears to find them bloody. Levi angrily kicked at the titan's head, stomping on it as it screamed wildly in what sounded like some form of death throe.

Miche hopped up onto the branch beside Erwin, clearly unhinged by something.

"It stinks, Erwin," He frowned, staring the commander down.

"What direction?"

"All directions, multiple sources at once."

"Ready those explosives! Now!" Erwin ordered, and the technicians in the air rushed to affix them to the wrists of the female before the horde was upon you all.

"Erwin, the first wave will come from the east. They're almost here." Miche informed, staring off into the treeline.

"Cart team, intercept!"

You gasped, looking down as titans came charging into the trap site, and you panicked thinking that the cadets had all been wiped out as they defended the forest. They charged in, ignoring the technicians on the ground blindly scrambling for their ODM gear. The titans were heading straight for the female, and Levi did not stop kicking at it's head. The cart guard intercepted, as ordered, but the titans breezed straight past them. It was as if they were all abnormal, and you allowed yourself to hope for a second that maybe that meant the cadets were all still intact and had simply been ignored all of a sudden. But you couldn't figure out why. What were they even heading for? The female titan? Was she their target? But you knew titans did not eat their own kind, so you were positively puzzled watching the titans from the east completely breeze past the cart guard.

"Levi! Retreat to your post!" You yelled, finally flexing your authority. He needed to answer to you, you were his superior. But you had a terrifying idea cross your mind that maybe Levi would completely ignore your orders, as he often did. The only problem was that usually him ignoring your orders resulted in nothing serious, but this time he was at serious risk of losing his life. The first three titans that had approached from the east were quickly cut down by Levi, but a fourth, smaller one had latched onto the leg of the female titan and began to gnaw at her. They truly were trying to eat at her. It was unbelievable, no scout had ever witnessed a titan eat another titan. They only ate humans, and titans were, quite clearly not human. Unless-

You stopped your train of thought immediately, passing off the titan behaviour as them targeting the female because there was someone inside. That had to be the only rational explanation. There was no other way to explain what you were all witnessing before your eyes.

"Titans from all directions!" Came the warning cry as another dozen of them broke through the treeline, headed straight for the female titan. Levi was still in the midst of it, completely ignoring your orders to withdraw. The technicians couldn't get close enough to plant the explosives and things were looking grim. "All men, engage! Defend the female titan, even if it means your lives." Erwin ordered. Everyone moved into action, leaping for the first target they could isolate. Miche was just ahead of you in the throng of moving bodies, and it was hard to isolate a single titan in the dogpile below.

As you dove down to sever the nape of a five metre titan chewing on the female titan's leg, you were sprayed with blood. You were coated in it, and you couldn't figure out if it was human or titan to begin with. All you could hear was the whirring of ODM gear above you, the screaming of the female titan behind you and the thudding charge of footprints below you. There was some vague yelling from your comrades as orders were bounced around the ranks, but nobody was taken down. There were no fatalities from the attack, simply because the titans did not care about the humans buzzing overhead - they were laser focused on destroying the female titan, ripping her to bloody shreds before your eyes. But no matter how quickly the ranks descended on your target, their jaws were too fast. They were tearing bloody chunks of the female titan away, spraying blood and harpoons high into the air.

"Retreat men!" Came the order from above, clearly Erwin had also realised that things were futile, those titans were making short work of the female, and there was now no hope of extracting the user from inside the nape. Hange dropped from their ODM gear to land beside you, observing the horde destroy the muscle and sinew of the female titan.

"Back in formation! Return to Karanes!" Erwin called out. You glanced to Hange, and turned to look to Miche. You were all panting and soaked head to toe in slowly evaporating titan blood. The steam from the carcasses was slowly rising into the canopy of the forest, and if you waited around any longer it would surely conceal the entire squadron. Erwin was probably right to turn and leave before the casualties climbed any higher, but you worried that the female titan was not actually down for the count. If you were to leave without ensuring the user was dead, there was a very high chance that you would be seeing a reappearance of the female titan in the near future. If they were after Eren so badly, then nothing would stop another attack from happening aside from executing the user. And that was assuming there were no other titans in the ranks - after all, nobody had yet found who the armoured or colossal titans were, or where they were hiding. The only clear assumption that could be made was that they were all after Eren, but the motive was a complete mystery. Another mystery was the number of potential titan shifters out there in the world. Just how many of the remnants of human-kind were able to turn into titans like this? And what exactly did they want?

Above you, Erwin and Levi talked. Clearly they were stumped for what to do about the loss of the target, but just as you saw Levi move out to call for his squad, something odd occurred. Erwin ordered Levi to restock his blades and gas. Why? Was Erwin anticipating something happening? Or was it just pre-emptive in case Eren needed defending? Either way, it didn't sit right with you. Erwin had been secretive recently, and you understood his motive for that. What you didn't understand, however, was how he was keeping these secrets from the people he was entrusting to plan this entire trap. How could Erwin expect you to engineer a titan trap without even telling you everything that was going on? It seemed that he only revealed what he wanted you to see.

It didn't sit right with you at all.

Blue signal smoke rose up, the retreat order had been placed. It was loud and clear what was to happen now - the scouts were to turn tail, disgraced once more, and return back to the wall. No doubt when you all returned, the military police would revoke custody of Eren and effectively silence the scouting missions henceforth. It seemed like that would be the first course of action. There was so much movement, such a mad dash to secure the wagons and the horses as fast as possible before the titans turned attention away from the carcass and onto the live bodies surrounding them. Most of the scouts were already gone towards the horses, but a select few stayed behind in the event the abnormals began looking to eat the scouts again. You were anchored on a tree above the horde, Hange and Miche also anchored opposite you. A few select members of Miche squad were also in the crowd, keenly watching for movement that seemed suspicious. It was tense, almost silent aside from the grotesque chewing noises from below.

Confusion rippled through the small gathering when a green smoke flare went up a short distance from you all. You all glanced between each other, unsure what to make of it. Was it a misfire? That made no sense, as it was a vertical shot. If it was misfired it would likely be at a low angle or pointing straight towards the ground. This one looked like it had been deliberately set off. The second thought that crossed your mind was that it was genuinely an order from Erwin, but since you were not involved in the private plan between himself and Levi, how were any of you to know what order to follow? A second green flare went off, almost as if in response to the call. People continued glancing around.

"We have orders to watch the titans until the wagons are clear! We wait until direct orders from Erwin are passed along." You called into the clearing. Some of the members present seemed nullified by your sentiment. You still felt highly uneasy. Soon, a messenger came flying towards you all, shouting that Erwin had called for your retreat, the wagons were clear and moving out once more. Double checking the titans below were unbothered by you, the final members of the scouts fled the clearing, heading for their mounts.

A column of horses was beelining towards the entrance to the forest, and they were leading all the horses that were waiting for the rear guard. Miche and Hange dropped into their saddles just in front of you as you all gathered around Erwin in the command rank.

"Erwin, why did you order Levi to resupply?" Hange asked, turning around to search the crowd for the return of Levi squad. They should be back by now. "There's no time to waste."

"The female titan was eaten, but did you actually see the person inside get eaten?" Erwin replied, staring straight ahead at the path. "Because I didn't."

"You mean to say they're still out there?" You asked, nudging your horse forward.

"If your original hypothesis is correct and they can still move to a degree after returning to human form, and if they'd equipped themselves with ODM gear in advance..." Erwin trailed off.

"Then the one within the female titan is wearing our uniform now." You conclude. "The enemy is now camouflaged as one of our men."

"When the colossal titan disappeared, whoever was inside was wearing ODM gear in order to disguise themselves and escape in the steam."

"But at the time, based on what we saw when Eren emerged from the titan, we concluded it would be impossible, His equipment was destroyed and his uniform was gone. Above all, Eren was so weak he couldn't even stand unassisted." Hange argued.

"The female titan was able was able to attract other titans with it's cry. We failed to predict this, and the operation failed. If titan abilities vary depending on skill, it was a mistake to use Eren, a total novice, as the basis for our assumptions." Erwin retorted. You watched as Hange digested the information, mulling over if this was actually a possibility. "If we are to outwit our enemy, we'll need to think outside the box."

"So if the enemy is more experienced with titans, they will have some way to retain its strength. Therefore, it may be able to transform once more." You say, voicing your thoughts aloud. The more you discussed this, the greater you began to worry about Levi squad not yet returning. Just as the words were out of your mouth, a bolt of lightning tore through the forest. A distant wail could be heard, and you recognised immediately that you were correct. Your blood ran cold with dread. There was some one out there fighting that female titan, and you had a terrifying thought that it would be Levi squad laying down their lives to protect Eren.

If Eren were to fall into the enemy hands, the entire mission would be one of the greatest failures.

You glanced behind you, knowing something was terribly wrong. Just before you could begin to speak your mind, a second bolt of lightning scrambled into the sky. Wild howling of titans spread through the trees, rebounding from every tree trunk. Erwin turned, finally showing the first signs of shock. Determined, you kicked away your stirrups and reached for your ODM gear.

"Two lightning bolts - two titans are fighting. If two are fighting then it is safe to assume Levi squad is out of commission. Levi may or may not already be there." You point out, standing on your saddle.

"If I don't return then you are to continue to Karanes and declare Eren Jaeger lost. Do not turn around. That is my order." You say, staring down Miche and Hange. You don't dare try direct your gaze to Erwin, because he would immediately shut you down. No matter how high in the ranks you were, you were always beneath Erwin in the chain of command. You could order Miche and Hange around, and try as you might with Levi, but Erwin would never answer to you. He could order you down at any point, he could order you to cease actions and continue on the retreat, but you both knew that you would ignore that order if he issued it. If he was going to be secretive with you, then you could risk a little insubordination without the repercussions of it.

You fly through the trees, navigating by the sound. Your hands were scraped bare by stray twigs that appeared out of nowhere, lacing your skin with long scratches. From somewhere in front of you, a small trail of steam wound around the branches. Someone else was also pursuing the fight. It had to be Levi - nobody else would be flying around the forest, ignoring orders aside from Levi and yourself. The closer you got to the chaos, the more the ground began to rumble.

It was footsteps, and judging from the heavy thud that followed, one of the titans was down on the ground. One of them was screaming, no, both of them were screaming. There was no way to figure out which one of them was on top until you got there. You arrived on the scene to see two titans battling it out. Watching them dodge and trade blows made you hyperaware that there were people inside, controlling the actions. At one point, the female titan was tossed into the air and you wondered if Eren was capable of extracting the host, but then you were taken over with the awe of realising you'd never seen something with the strength to throw another titan. That was an immense amount of power, something you weren't even aware another being could possess. You anchored yourself to a tree, observing from a distance. Could you take out that female titan if Eren couldn't? Were you even capable of that? She'd torn through the entire Levi squad at once, you alone could do nothing. And just when you were mulling this over, the female titan delivered a sweeping kick to a tree, slicing through it and Eren's titan in one smooth motion. The top of Eren's titan soared through the air in a spray of blood, the limp flesh of the forehead arching under the velocity. Completely awe-struck, you had no idea what to do. You watched as the female titan dropped to her knees before Eren. What was she planning to do? You pondered, preparing yourself to take off from the tree.

You sprung to action when you realised that the female titan intended to eat Eren. You launched away from the tree, hoping that she would be too distracted with attempting to devour Eren that she wouldn't notice you approaching. Your cover was blown when a scream ripped through the trees.

"Eren!" Screamed a female voice. It was a dark haired cadet, the one that would never leave his side, she was tearing through the clearing in an attempt to attack at the same time as you were. Maybe you could co-ordinate an attack, you pondered, but you were broken from your thoughts by the sight of the female titan's jaw snapping closed and clenching down onto the nape of Eren's titan. Without even pausing, the female titan threw her head back and devoured him, taking off at a sprint towards the other end of the forest. You shot after the target, leaving the cadet dangling in the clearing, visibly distraught. Less than a second later, though, that same cadet came breezing through the trees and passed you at a blinding speed.

"Give Eren back!" She screamed, whirling around the female at blinding speeds. You both caught up to the target, and in some unspoken agreement you knew to stop it rather than kill it. Aiming for the ankles, shoulders, knees, you were both just trying to get it to slow down. One of the titan's hands was being used to cover the nape, leaving her only one hand to attack with. She couldn't catch two people with one hand, especially not at the speeds the two of you were moving. A well placed slice sent a chunk of the titan's ankle flying and she completely lost balance. Unable to flex the Achilles rendon, the female titan slumped and skidded to the floor only to land on her face. Steam was swirling out of the large wounds you'd both left.

"Give Eren back!"

"Don't! It can harden, you'll only shatter your swords." You cry in warning, watching as the cadet attempted to swing for the nape. The female cadet cursed and swore, spitting insults at the titan. You wished you still had the technicians around with their explosives to blow her hands off at the wrist. As the cadet went to launch another attack, she was swiped out of the air by something. Confused, you looked up to what it was. Levi was soaring overhead and had yanked the cadet back by her harness. She was yelling and thrashing in his grasp.

"Fall back for now." He ordered, and you launched after him. "Maintain this distance, it may be tired. It does not appear to be going very fast."

"Erwin is still maintaining the retreat orders, I'm here to return Eren. If that isn't possible then we are to neutralise all targets." You relay, overlooking the cadet and talking straight to Levi. The cadet was angrily scowling, not shifting her gaze from the female titan for a split second.

"He seems to have been bit right out of her neck. Is Eren dead?" Levi asked. The cadet grimaced, not answering straight away.

"He's alive. The target appears intelligent, and its goal seems to be to capture Eren alive. If it wanted him dead it would have crushed him. The target is fighting to escape after going through the trouble of putting him in it's mouth." The cadet finally replied.

"Its goal may have been to eat Eren, in which case he's already inside the stomach. It's more reasonable to assume he's dead." Levi countered.

"He's alive!" She screamed in response.

"I hope you're right."

"If you'd only protected Eren, this wouldn't have happened!" She accused, turning to you.

"Countless scouts are dead because we were protecting Eren," You spit back, staring her down.

"First, we give up on killing the female titan," Levi stated, completely ignoring the two of you. "We pin our hopes on Eren being alive, and rescue him before it leaves the forest. We tear away at it, and you," he sneered, turning towards the cadet. "Draw it's attention." The cadet dropped low to the ground, aiming to take out the ankles once more. You and Levi remained above, readying yourselves to swoop down onto the target.

"Cut away at the jaw and Eren may still be in the mouth." You state, pointing at the hinge of the jaw with your blade. Levi drew his swords, ready to slice. The titan almost knew what Levi was planning, as she turned at the last second to swing. She struck a tree a few feet to your right, but Levi dodged and began to slice along the length of her arm. The tree she had struck completely folded in half, the trunk snapping almost immediately.

Your ODM wire was snagged under the falling weight of the tree, and you tried to set yourself free using the other wire. Panicked, you attempted to latch onto a tree across from you, in an attempt to stop your free-fall from twenty metres up. It seemed almost useless, as the wire would not recoil from under the weight of the falling tree.

The last thing you're aware of is gravity shifting. Because suddenly you're weightless and hurtling in a direction you can't quite identify. It's just trees, forever, and the patches of sky fighting through make your vision hazy as you're thrown around. Then there is the reckoning, the earth catching up to you. Your trajectory must, at some point, be interrupted.

That is when the tree comes up to meet you, and all you can register is a sickening crunch. Before you can quite hit the ground, you realise that something very terrible has happened, indeed.

//

You feel warm. Too warm. Something hurts and you're not sure what exactly is hurting, but everything is swimming beyond your vision. Every time you blink, the light in the room changes somewhat. Shadows move around the corners of the room and you feel sweat gathering on your brow. The only thing passing through your mind is several strings of words, non-sensical phrases stuck in your memory that repeat on loop constantly.

Your head feels dull and heavy, your jaw has been clenched tight for so long that when you finally unclench it, the muscles feel sore. Sometimes when you wake up, your body feels too heavy for you to move and your mouth is so dry your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth.

And no matter how many times you drift back into sleep, you still feel confused.

One time when you wake up, Hange is sat in the corner of your room. You roll your head to the side, conscious of the heavy pressure on your spine from barely moving for so long. Every joint feels stiff and you feel so dehydrated.

"She's awake!" Hange yelled, scampering over to the door and wrenching it open quickly. From behind the door, Moblit jumped in shock and dashed off down the corridor to alert Erwin and Levi to your reawakening. Hange shoots back over to you, pulling the chair from the corner to sit beside your head. The splintered legs scrape along the stone floor, screeching and groaning as you watch their face grow closer and closer.

"How are you feeling?" They asked, hands cupping their jaw as they peered as close to your bleary eyes as they could. Your first attempt to speak produced only a dry croaking sound, your rasping throat and pounding headache clouding your mind. The door swung open as you continued to wheeze and rasp into the silent room.

"She needs water, you idiot." Levi mumbled from where he was leaning against the doorway. "For someone who is supposedly smart, you're such a fucking idiot sometimes." He added under his breath. Moblit handed you one of the dented old tin mugs used for rations on field expeditions, raising the cold metal to your mouth. Hange ignored Levi's jabbing and helped you into a sitting position, pausing every time a random grunt of pain left your lips.

"Be careful with her ribs." Erwin pointed out, standing at the foot of the bed. "They're potentially broken according to the field hospital." With several large mouthfuls of water finally in your dry throat, your cracking voice finally carried across the room.

"Where am I?" You asked, screwing your eyes up in an attempt to block out your headache.

"Headquarters upon the 57th expedition beyond the walls being cut short after the attack of the female titan." Erwin replied, folding his arms.

"What happened?"

"You decided to fucking ignore retreat orders and go off after the female titan, that's what." Levi interjected. "And then instead of just sticking to my rescue plan, you played the hero and got yourself almost killed saving Jaeger."

"Did we get him back?"

"Unfortunately." Levi piped back up. "The brat is more trouble than he's worth."

"And I assume the MPs have absolutely no problems with this." You deadpan, limbs feeling heavy and breaths coming laboured.

"We've been summoned to the interior with Cadet Jaeger, preparations are being made." Erwin sighed, leaning against the small desk in the corner littered with dirty bandages and empty vials, likely containing the medicine you'd been pumped with while you were out cold.

"When do we leave?"

"We move in two days, to arrive in the interior within a week. You aren't going anywhere anytime soon." Levi grunted, turning to look down the corridor at the approaching doctor. "Not after that stupid fucking heroics act you pulled out there. The order to retreat was in effect and you decided that you're just too good to listen to orders and played the silly little hero."

"Don't talk to me about following orders, Captain." You spat back at Levi.

"Regardless, you're officially unfit for action." Erwin interjected, stopping you both from a screaming match.

"I'm awake now, that's good enough. I can go to the interior, it's hardly going beyond the walls." You reason.

"Titans or not, broken ribs need time to heal. You are retired from active duty for the foreseeable future, until the field hospital discharges you. No sooner than that."

"I can sit in a cart all the way to the interior. Sitting in a bed or sitting in a carriage, it makes no difference to me." You protested.

"If it makes no difference then you can stay here." Erwin stated again, narrowing his gaze at you.

You open your mouth, attempting to rationalise joining them to the interior. But judging from the stares of Moblit and Levi, there was something else going on that you weren't privy to. Some bitter part of you began to resent them for that, as if you hadn't been by their sides for years. Before you managed to say something you'd clearly regret, the doctor entered.

"This is for your own good." Erwin stated, putting an end to the discussion.

//

A small drop of blood gathers on your fingertip. You frown at it, staring into the small slice where the splinter had worked it's way under your skin. The broom handle slides down your sweaty palm, the wood grain smooth with years of wear and tear.

Someone shouts not too far away. There might be laughter if you listen close enough. The only people left at the barracks are those who occupied the field hospitals. The scouts were not here. They had left you behind, reasoning cited as you were still too damaged to be of use to them.

The stables had been cleaned out in anticipation of returning soldiers, the kitchens had been cleaned and prepared to handle feeding the survivors. The infirmary had been supplied and stocked as best it could be with the meagre funding the scouts received. There was really nothing much left to do aside from wait.

Being confined to barracks meant your paperwork was always finished early, every part of your room had been cleaned several times over. Your gear was well oiled and ready for when you were back in commission. Your horse was even growing restless, not used to long stints without stretching it's legs. You spent a fair amount of your time reading, or were often spotted pacing the grounds restlessly for hours of the day. You simply couldn't sleep anymore, there was too much energy in your body to allow your brain to shut off, and often bitter flashes of anger and resentment crossed your mind and left you lying in bed for hours at a time frustrated and feeling hopeless.

Until the shouting started.

There was some screaming to accompany it, echoing around the square in the middle of the barracks. Blood smeared horses and pale faced scouts poured into the cobbled courtyard, some shakily dropping from their horses, others slumping out of wagons. It was hectic, and anybody standing around was already in action - pulling people towards the infirmary and hastily tying tourniquets where they could. Horses were rearing up on the spot, ears flat back and whites of their eyes showing as they panicked. You took the reins of two nearby horses and pulled them out of the way of limping soldiers.

You closed them in the first two stables you could find, knowing they could be placed in their rightful stable later on. One young man staggered towards you, bloodied hands smearing your face and uniform as you caught him before he hit the cobbles. He was garbling something unintelligible, clearly starting to go delirious from the blood loss. He was caked in blood and you couldn't find the source of his injury until he grabbed your hands and pressed them to his stomach. A long, thin line of flesh had been peeled open. His eyes looked manic inside his skull, white in a face bathed in dark red blood.

He slumped, leaning entirely onto you as you realised he passed out.

You pulled his weight along with you down the corridor towards the infirmary. It was teeming with soldiers running in all directions, towards and away from the chaos. You fought along with the tide heading for the clean beds waiting for the injured. When you pushed your way through the door, another cadet - almost a boy- helped lift the soldier into an unoccupied bed. You turned around quickly, heading back to the court.

As you stepped into the outside, a tall, wiry man came jogging over to you.

"Ma'am. The commander has been severely injured. What are your orders for us?"

Faces turned to you, the people surrounding the court turning to you as their salvation.

"Prioritise the injured. Able bodied soldiers from the rear guard are to supply the infirmary with supplies from the nearest warehouse - under the authority of Erwin Smith himself, they are to hand over medical supplies. 104th cadets, you are to take care of the horses, and you answer to the stablemaster. Every other scout is to bring the injured inside. Is there a squad leader around?" You call, making decisions on the fly. Your priority was the health of the scouts in the infirmary, everything else could wait until later. Taking stock of equipment and fixing wagons was low on your list currently.

"Ma'am! Squad leader Vantis!" Shouted a short, middle aged woman from the back of the gathered company.

"Form two teams to prepare food and clean the courtyard."

"Ma'am!" She saluted, and as you turned away towards the Officer's wing, hundreds of feet went scrambling in different directions to carry out your orders.

You headed down the long corridor of offices, the length of the walls punctuated by pairs of doors leading to Hange and Moblit's quarters; further along, Miche's opposite your own; and at the very end of the hallway, Levi and Erwin's.

You push open the last door on the right hand side, the heavy oak swinging on age old hinges. Miche steps past you into the corridor, likely heading for the infirmary for whatever they can spare to ease Erwin's pain.

When he moves out of your line of sight, you see him.

He lies in the bed, face almost completely drained of blood, only propped up by the pillows against the headboard. His shirt is dusty and bloody, stained and smeared with the marks of battle. You stare at him for a moment, clenching your fists in a fleeting display of anger. His right arm is missing to the elbow, with a messy tourniquet and his sleeve completely cut away to the shoulder. You sigh, looking at the mangled flesh torn to shreds just above the joint of his elbow, looking clearly as if it had been ripped from his body. The uneven surface of his flesh show gouges from monstrous teeth bigger than your hands.

You drag a chair from the desk over to the side of his bed. He is still awake, somehow. Sweat breaks out along his ashen brow and sticks his hair to his forehead. For a while you don't know what to say to him.

"You should have taken me with you." You sigh, resting your bloodied hands in your lap.

"You were out of commission for a good reason."

"I could have protected you, it's my fucking job!" You yell, weeks of frustration built up finally bursting through.

"I guess we'll never know." He admits, meeting your gaze. With tremendous effort, he lifts his remaining hand to wipe a drop of still-wet blood from under your chin.

"It's not mine." You say, staring at him.

"I know." He admits, letting his arm fall, smearing the droplet down your neck.

"If you leave me behind again, I'll never forgive you."

"I know." He mumbles. "You're nobody's fool."

"Then don't make me one."

"I'm not."

You snort, knocking his hand away. "Stop lying to me."

"Even if I tell you the truth you never believe me."

"You don't give me reason to believe you. You keep secrets from me and leave me behind, you throw me away when I'm no longer useful and expect that I'll always come crawling back to you. You might as well laugh while I bleed over your boots." You turn away from him, folding your arms across your chest sullenly. "Blame it all on yourself."

"Do as you please."

You stand up to leave. "I think I just might."

#angst #attack on titan #erwin smith #erwin smith x reader #fanfic #heavy angst #emotional hurt

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (69) || atz

You’re too late to reach him.

By the time your footsteps come thundering up the gangplank of the Treasure, wood creaking beneath your boots, Mingi comes to greet you midway, face drawn with concern and barely veiled fury.

“Where is he?” Your captain asks urgently, immediately, and you feel the pit in your stomach sinking more than it already has. San has had his hand on your arm the entire time, a reassuring presence but unwilling to divulge any information to you about that mysterious white ship.

White ship... you think, eyes glancing over over the hull, following the harbor. What meets your gaze is an unassuming, slender ship a few docks down, hull painted a stark, bone white, the same colour of ashes long burnt out, cold and dead.

“He’s in the sickbay.” Mingi runs a hand through his hair, eyes hard and distressed. He makes a soft, helpless noise, turns to your captain. “Captain, I really didn’t know this was going to happen, I-”

“There was nothing you could do, you couldn’t have predicted it.” Hongjoong says with a sigh, his fingers tracing the stitching along his eye patch. Next to you, San’s hand falls from your arm, chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he glances at the door to the sickbay. “How is he?”

“Wait.” You cut in, unable to bear not knowing about what is going on anymore. This is Wooyoung they’re talking, dolphin laugh Wooyoung, chatterbox Wooyoung, brighter than the sun Wooyoung. Why is the mere sight of a single ship sailing into the harbor of Tortuga enough to unsettle all of them so much. “What’s going on?”

San’s mouth works soundlessly for a moment, trying to find the right words, before it abruptly closes. He glances between you and the white ship and back again, then swallows nervously. “Chin Hae, that ship is-”

All of a sudden, the door to the sick bay slams open with a bang and you nearly jump, whirling to stare at the source of the noise.

“Wooyoung, wait!” You hear Yeosang cry out, and your eyes widen when you see the purple haired gunner burst out of the door, stumbling on shaky legs and eyes wild. He looks about frantically before his eyes zero in on the gangplank, and takes off at a run, frighteningly fast, barreling straight towards you. You don’t recognise his eyes, lost in the waves of something dark, a place where you can’t see.

“Wooyoung, stop!” Hongjoong grabs him by the arm and tackles him to the ground, and the younger gunner goes crashing to the ground with a painful cry. You merely watch in horror as Yunho follows behind his captain, dropping from the rigging to pin his other hand to the deck as Wooyoung continues to struggle and flail, panicked tears streaming from his eyes, mumbling unintelligible nothings under his breath.

“They’ve found me, they’ve found me, need to run, need to escape,” he moans, tears slipping down his cheeks as you can only stare on in horror - what on earth is happening? “Need to hide, need to run away before they find me and chain me up again, I-”

What?

“Wooyoung, listen to me-” Hongjoong tries to say, but Wooyoung shivers uncontrollably even though the sea breeze is warm, teeth practically chattering from fear. “Wooyoung, please, you need to listen-”

“Who?” You find yourself saying, even before you realise you’ve spoken. “Who is ‘they’, Wooyoung?”

“He’s here.” He sobs, and you can feel each individual piece of your heart shatter and crack at his heart wrenching wails. “He’s found me, I need to escape, I need to-”

“Wooyoung.” Your captain grabs him by the cheeks, forcing the younger man to look at him with tear filled eyes. “Listen to me. You are Jung Wooyoung. I gave you that name myself years ago, when I broke the chains on your hands and brought you with me. You are one of my crew, part of the Treasure.” He squeezes Wooyoung’s hands tightly, as if trying to will him to understand. “No one is going to hurt you ever again.”

Wooyoung stills, the fight deflating from him like a ship’s sails that have lost the wind. “No hurt anymore?” He whimpers quietly, eyes still clouded with fear.

Hongjoong nods once.

“No more hurt.”

>>>

“Master, what’s going on?” You ask the second he steps into the storage hold. San draws in a heavy breath, as if it carries the weight of the world, and sits down in front of you where your blanket is wrapped around your knees. Because of Wooyoung’s current sensitive condition, your captain has ordered for the beds in the sickbay to be given to Wooyoung and Yeosang for now, the navigator apparently being one of the few people able to calm him down. Thus now, you’re bunking down in the storage hold, lantern flickering dimly overhead, illuminating the weary slant of San’s eyes, the tight purse of his lips.

“I brought you this.” San says quietly, holding out something red - fox fur! - you realise. Thanking him, you draw the half stitched coat into your lap, fingers fondling the stray ends like they’re old friends, before you ask once again.

“Master, please.” You say quietly, fingers of your real hand curling around his, a reassurance of your presence, a persuasion for the truth. You can see that it’s weighing him down, that he’s dying to tell you, but there’s something holding him back. “Master, Wooyoung is...” you trail off, searching for the right words. What exactly is Wooyoung to you? But regardless of the answer that you do not yet have, the truth is still the same. “He’s a very precious person to me. I can’t just-”

“He’s an important person to me too, Chin Hae.” San says softly, squeezing your hand back tight. “He’s my best friend.”

“But you know.” You insist, desperation welling up in you. You feel your lower lips trembling, struggle to keep your tears from falling. “Master, what happened to Wooyoung?”

San lets out a groan, letting go of your hands to run his own through his hair harshly. “Wooyoung’s past is... complicated. He’s been through a lot, and-”

“Master.” You say, and he turns to stare at you with pained eyes. “Please, just tell me. I want to know.”

San holds your gaze for a moment longer before his eyes drop from yours, a soft breath leaving his lips. “I just... don’t want you to think any differently of him, or any lesser about him because of his past.”

“I couldn’t.” You answer instantly. When San looks at you, confused, you add on earnestly. “Nothing you say about his past could change the way I view him now, Master. He’s the one,” your breath catches a little, and you turn away, looking instead at the fox fur in your lap, “who saved me from the very beginning in Nassau, even before he really knew me. I care for him a great deal, master.”

“I know.” San says softly. A breath passes before he looks up at you, manages a grin. “Scoot over?”

You do instantly, shifting so that San has space to sit next to you, shoulders pressing together. He’s warm, you think quietly, letting your head rest against his upper arm. “So?”

San exhales. “Well... did we ever tell you how Wooyoung came onto the Treasure?”

“No.” You shake your head. As far as you know, Wooyoung’s past has been cryptic at best, with San and Hongjoong dropping the occasional comment before about how he’d been like you, without a name. The circumstances behind that are unknown, but you wonder if you might finally get to find out today.

“I was in the sickbay alone a few years back.” He raises his hands, looking at them as if trying to remember what he had been doing that day. “I was still relatively new on board the ship, after captain picked me up, but I know we were docked right here, in Tortuga.” Your breath hitches. “I was doing something at the table, whether grinding herbs or mixing salves, I can’t remember. But then all of a sudden Captain burst into the room, Mingi behind him. And I remember so clearly, the small, pitiful shape Mingi was carrying in his arms.”

You can see it playing out in your mind, San sitting at his little table, back turned to the door, spinning around in shock as your captain crashes in with his quartermaster in tow. “He was nothing but a bag of bones,” your master continues, voice hushed, cracking a little at the ends, “but the scariest thing were his eyes. They were so dead, Chin Hae.” The despair in his words is enough to make tears well up in your eyes. “If I hadn’t seen him breathing, I would have thought he might have been dead.”

Wooyoung with dead eyes? His eyes have always danced with life since the first day you’ve known him, bright and vibrant like the pulse of the sea and the life it brings. You don’t want to even imagine what he could have looked like, the mere thought of it too painful for you to handle.

“There were broken shackles around his wrists, heavy padlocks hanging from each.” San adds on, voice growing more and more solemn with each word. “Captain didn’t tell me the reason behind them, only instructing me to take care of him and feed him till he got better. And I did. I fed him and bathed him, and that’s when I saw the marks all over his body, bruises, deep scratches, bite marks...”

You still. “Bite marks?” You repeat hollowly, the words echoing around your mind. San sucks in a deep breath, buries his face in your hair. Your arms come up instinctively to wrap around him, and San continues, words heavy.

“Bite marks... from the women he was sold to.” The words seem to be nothing more than white noise now, ringing emptily in your skull. “Chin Hae, his old captain was a slave trader, but kept Wooyoung on board as a pet since he could remember. He was kicked, abused, beaten within an inch of his life as he grew up.” His tears soak into your hair as you stare silently at the wooden beams opposite, unable to think. “And when his captain thought he was pretty and exotic because of his purple hair, he started trading Wooyoung with high ranking women in towns for favors, and the things they did to him, he still has nightmares about them sometimes, and he-”

There’s nothing but a dull, throbbing ache in your chest. It hurts so much it stifles your breath, poisonous chains wrapped tight around your throat and lungs.

“-that’s why he’s so afraid of women, Chin Hae.” San says helplessly, seemingly unaware of the way your breath is trapped in your lungs. “He slept with them so much afterwards as his way of convincing himself he’d finally left his demons behind, but when you came, he-”

“Please stop.” You manage to croak out, and immediately San falls silent. Your head is spinning, a painful, raw feeling in your chest, breath trapped painfully in your lungs. Rising to your feet, you try not to let the tears slip from your eyes, refusing to look at your master.

“I need some time, please.”

Without waiting for his reply you stride out of the storage hold, climbing the stairs to the main deck, away from the stifling air beneath the deck that seems far too choking. Here the air is calming, and you step to the edge of the ship to cool off, trying to keep your emotions under control.

Wooyoung was hurt, is all you can think. People hurt him.

How could anyone hurt a person like Wooyoung?

You let out a long, shaky breath as you look down at the rippling surface of the sea. Your image is distorted, reflection half glancing off with the lights coming from the harbor, the other half submerged in darkness. There’s a feeling that only builds in you, deep and roiling, far beneath the surface, somewhere deep within you, like the beginning of a tidal wave.

Fury.

Like waves lapping at shore, slowly but surely, eating away at the edges. You glance up at the white ship a little while off, and thunder rumbles in the distance from the sea.

You’re furious.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #san #mingi #wooyoung #jongho #ateez pirate king #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

[alolowrites]

The Neighbor from Apartment 512

Summary: You have a crush on your new neighbor, Izuku Midoriya, who lives right across the hall.

Author’s Note: This is my fifth story for @bnhabookclub​‘s Hero Camp Bingo event. The prompt I used was “Boy Next Door” and inspiration came from Selena’s song “El Chico Del Apartamento 512″ (English translation: The Guy from Apartment 512). This story is also for the the Celebrating Deku event! It’s been a while since I wrote a story for Midoriya (last time was in May I believe).

I apologize for taking so long to publish another story. Work is really kicking my butt and I don’t want to force myself on writing something that’s half-assed. 

Without further ado, please enjoy!

Word Count: 1.8K+

A gust of cold air blows across your face the moment you open the freezer door. An empty ice cube tray greets you while a dangling icicle chips off from the corner. It’s a pitiful sight, and you pout—there’s no ice cream. However, there’s a convenience store five minutes from your place. The downside is you have to walk, and you’re not feeling it right now.

Except you are desperately craving for something creamy and sweet. You gaze into the freezer to weigh your options. After two minutes, you groan and snatch your gray sweater off the chair. Guess you’ll be making the trip. Before stepping out the door, you do a quick once over at the mirror to make sure you look decent.

Especially if he’s outside—Izuku Midoriya, the neighbor from apartment 512.

He recently moved into your building and settled right across from you. There was lots of commotion going on outside the hallway, disrupting your usual Saturday cleaning spree. If you couldn’t hear your music, then what was the point of cleaning anyway? You remembered whipping the door open, mouth wide open to complain, when a pair of emerald eyes stared straight at you. He introduced himself as Izuku Midoriya and apologized profusely for the ruckus. You didn’t care if he fired up a jackhammer against your wall, he was handsome.

Long story short, you fell for him. Hard.

Subconsciously, you make sure to put your best foot forward. And yes, that even means doing a quick breath check in case you both end up in the elevator together. Once satisfied with your reflection, you peek at peephole and leave the apartment. It’s relatively possible Midoriya is not even home, but you can never be too sure.

Someone calls your name, and regrettably, you recognize their voice. Turning around, you shoot him an awkward smile. “Tarou, hi…”

Tarou is a fellow neighbor who lives two doors down from you. Everyone in this entire building knows his massive crush on you, including yourself. The guy is sweet, yes, but you don’t have the same feelings toward him. You settled for being friends, but the lovestruck look in his eyes is painfully apparent.

Tarou gestures to what he’s holding, “Just taking out the trash!”

“I can see that.”

“Yeah, always gotta keep this place clean, y’know?” He follows you down the hall, his black bag swishing sideways. You call for the elevator, but keep a polite distance from him. “Where are you heading?”

You shrug, “To the store to buy some ice cream.”

“Oh, well, I have some!” Ah, crap…

“What flavor is it?”

“Mint chocolate chip.”

You click your teeth, “Ooo, sorry, not really my flavor. But thanks for the offer!”

A ding cuts off Tarou, and you look at the elevator. When Midoriya steps off, your heart races, the sleeves on his black dress shirt rolled up until his elbows. He scratches his head and smiles when he spots you. All your focus is on him, especially when he sings out your name in that deep voice of his. As Midoriya sends a curt nod at Tarou, your eyes are permanently glued to the viridian-haired man’s retreating figure.  

Yup, you definitely have fallen hard for him.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

“Bill…bill…bill…bi—oooh coupon! I’m so keeping this.”

You continue to check your mail as the elevator heads to your floor. With the mail sorted through, you skim through the magazine that arrived today. Not once did you look up the moment you exit the elevator, your eyes soaking in the pages filled with colorful photographs and words. You’re not worried bumping into anything, or anyone, since you know the place like the back of your hand.

Keys jingle and you peer over the magazine. Your hands crumple the pages as you watch Midoriya lock his door. He’s wearing a fitted lichen blue shirt that accentuates every muscle on his upper body and a pair of black shorts that stop just above his knees. Midoriya shoves his wireless earbuds and strolls away from his apartment.

Your breath hitches when his face lights up. “Hey! How’s it looking outside?”

“G-good,” you stammer before clearing your throat, “Perfect weather for running.”

“Sounds great!” Midoriya is a fairly busy person, but the few times you run into each other, he always flashes his winning smile. It sends your heart racing faster than the Hayabusa train. He checks the time and waves goodbye. “Catch you later, neighbor!”

“You too!” That’s where you should have ended, but nope—your mouth runs on its own and betrays you when it blurts out, “Have fun running and sweating!”

The sheer horror dawns on your face when those five words echo down the hallway. Midoriya stops to glance over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. You scramble to your door and fumble with the keys. Your eyes stay firmly on the knob until you’re able to rush inside. The magazine falls out of your grasp as you slide down against the door in embarrassment.

“Have fun running and sweating?” You moan, head banging on the door. “What kind of response is that? Ugh!”

This is the last time you’ll get your mail at this hour.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Both legs dangle over the couch’s armrest, and you stare at the ceiling. Days have passed since the humiliating incident, the conversation replaying inside your head like a broken record. However, Midoriya continued to greet you like normal. Was it done out of pity, who knows? Interestingly enough, his smile was more playful than usual.

Your crush on Midoriya skyrockets since then.

A pillow slams over your face. How is it possible for a person to make you feel this way? Midoriya is continuously in your thoughts when awake, and in your dreams when fast asleep. It’s a miracle that your heart hasn’t exploded from all the giddiness building inside. But your thoughts and dreams can only go so far. For you, the best moments happen whenever you both cross paths outside the hallway.

It’s definitely that smile of his.

You move the pillow away from your face and sit up. Although you know you like Midoriya, you wonder if he feels the same way. There’s only one way to know for sure, and you become absolutely nervous just thinking about it. Still, you don’t want to keep waiting around. For once, you want to take charge.

After many attempts in front of the bathroom mirror, you settle with a simple confession: “Midoriya, I like you.”

Yup that should do it.

You shake the nerves trapped inside and gently tap your cheeks. Hopefully, Midoriya is home right now. You’re running on pure adrenaline and who knows when that will disappear. With a final check near the entrance mirror, you stride toward his door.

The number 512 shines underneath the warm light, making you gulp. One foot takes a step back, but you move forward again. One fist rises, but stops just at the door’s smooth surface. You end up fighting against yourself for a few minutes until a rapid knock attacks the door. Nothing happens as you hold your breath.

Then the knob turns, and your face falls; another woman answers instead of Midoriya.

Abort mission, abort mission, abort mission—

“Hi, may I help you?”

“Um, hello,” you meekly wave, a forced smile hurting your face. The woman looks pretty and around your age, but definitely not related to Midoriya. There’s a massive pit in your stomach. “I’m the neighbor from across the hall. I came to ask Midoriya if he has any, um, flour! Yes, flour!”

Flour, really? Is that the best you can come up with on the spot?

“Oh, well, I can ask him—”

“A-Actually no! It’s fine!” You give an awkward laugh. “I, uh, just remembered the recipe doesn’t need any flour. Yeah, it’s a flourless cake. Says so on the name! Sorry if I bothered you. I’ll be heading back now…um, have a great day!”

You bolt back into your apartment again and slam the door.  

Guess he doesn’t like you.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

There’s an imaginary dark cloud looming over your head. It follows you everywhere, from brushing your teeth in the bathroom to visiting the postal office to drop off a small package. You purposefully take the longest route back home, not ready to face the sad reality awaiting on the fifth floor.

Now you understand why people call it a crush. One moment you feel excited or hopeful for a chance to be together. The next moment, those same feelings start crumbling and crush you without a single warning. You hang your head low; all that’s left now is for you to move on with your life. The S.S. Midoriya has officially sailed, and you’re not on it.

The dark cloud starts raining.

Even in my imagination, I can’t catch a break.

You arrive at your apartment complex and enter the elevator. A sharp ding breaks the silence as you step off to drag your feet on the floor. Fishing for your keys, you don’t hear a door opening from across the hall. Someone coughs out your name, and you freeze before peeking over your shoulder to see Midoriya.

“Sorry!” He flails his hands, green eyes filled with panic. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“No, it’s okay,” you say, turning around to face him. Midoriya sighs in relief, and you hold back a snort. “So…what’s up? Do you need something?”

“Actually, I heard you stopped by my door yesterday. Looking for flour?”

“O-oh, about that!” You grip the keys, the heat rising behind your neck. “Yeah, I thought I needed flour for this recipe, but I forgot I was making a flourless cake. I didn’t mean to bother you or your girlfriend, so…”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, she’s the one who answered your door?”

“Oh, you mean Uraraka!” Midoriya lets out a genuine laugh, leaving you confused. “She’s just a good friend of mine from college. She’s came by for a visit after not seeing me for so long.”

Well, you certainly jumped the gun there. The dark cloud vanishes, and you almost jump at the thought of Midoriya being single. Before you could speak, Midoriya shoves one hand in his pocket while the other scratches behind his neck. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks as he tries to find his words.

Eventually, he does when he confesses, “Besides, I actually like you. A lot if I’m being honest, but I was too nervous to say something until Uraraka gave me the courage, so yeah…”

You’re gaping like a fish, the keys barely hanging on your shaky fingers.

Say something, anything! Just don’t stand there!

“I love your freckles!” Oh my god. You slap your forehead and pinch the bridge of your nose for a second. Finally, you take a deep breath and shoot him a shy smile, “What I meant to say was, I also like you. A lot, too.”

Somehow Midoriya’s face glows even brighter than before, his green curls bouncing in celebration as well. A surge of confidence runs through his veins as he stands straighter and asks you out for dinner tonight.

“Sure, pick me up at 7pm, neighbor?”

“On the dot, neighbor.”

Your grin never disappears. After all, you have a date with Izuku Midoriya, the lovely neighbor from apartment 512.

Fifth prompt is crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading! 

Previous prompt: Crime AU

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

#midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya izuku #bnha imagines #bnhabookclub #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #hero camp bingo #boy next door #selena #selena quintanillla #bnha x reader

[unlockthelore]

Waiting

Lumine sighed. Another day passed with tasks and errands fulfilled but little clues to be found. Although her spirits were fairly dampened by the lack of progress, Paimon’s were still elevated. Her floating companion twisted and spun end over end in the open air, mottles of light drifting off her cape like snow, while her giggling joined the gentle winds rustling.

“Cheer up, Lumine,” Paimon urged, spiraling in circles around Lumine’s head and nearly blinding her as they walked past the fountain in the courtyard. Its waters dark and glimmering with stars, reflecting the clear blue-black sky overhead. Paimon skimmed the toe of her boots sending ripples across its surface, and kicking up a spray that Lumine batted away with a quick wind current. “That lady we met outside the city said she’d keep an eye out for your brother.”

“Yeah, but she also said that she only remembers the food she eats with people,” Lumine reminded, dull agitation wresting with appreciation for the woman’s effort to even remember. “She’s likelier to feed him then send him on his way than tell him where I am..”

Paimon hummed, her small hands twisting in the flared cuffs of her sleeve. “But wouldn’t it be a good thing if she fed him? Unless your brother’s a good survivor in the wild like you are.”

Lumine started to climb the stairs wrapped around the lower tiers leading up to the Cathedral. “Aether learned how to survive on his own just as well as I did, but that doesn’t mean I like him being on his own.”

The sooner she could find him, the better. A light particle drifted between her eyes and Lumine focused on it, bewildered. She tipped her head back to find Paimon staring at her while floating upside down. Her wide, dusky blue eyes crinkled at the corners as she smiled widely, rounded cheeks tinted pink. “Paimon thinks you’re a good sister, Lumine, but you’re a worrywart too.”

Lumine choked on a gasp and pressed the toe of her boot down on one of the steps, glaring up at Paimon as she danced ahead. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Instead of answering the question, Paimon laughed cheerily and zipped ahead, leaving a trail of starlight in her wake. Lumine smiled faintly and hustled up the staircase after her companion, peering up at sloped tiled roofs and warm amber lights filtered through nearby houses. Her heels clicked on the stairs noisily and she tried not to trip in her haste to keep up with Paimon.

Her companion spinning around in a flurry, her wings and white hair fanned out as she floated up the wall separating the stair flights. Lumine shook her head. If it wasn’t for decorum, she would have scaled the wall to hop across and chase after Paimon but it’d been raining naught a bell ago, and the walls were still a bit damp. If she slipped and fell, that would be embarrassing. Needless to say that Paimon wouldn’t spare her the embarrassment by not laughing. Resigned to her fate, Lumine climbed the staircase and turned on each landing until she reached the second tier.

In spite of Mondstadt’s penchant for drink and revelry, the City of Freedom was blissfully quiet during the night. Lumine sighed as she stared out at the stone walls, and buildings housed on rises, windmills turning lazily in the balmy night air by the occasional crisp breeze. Posts with lanterns hanging from their bent necks cast warm pools of golden light across the cobblestone, lighting up the skyline as far as the southern gates. A cricket’s chirping caught her ear along with Paimon’s not-too-quiet giggling, and another voice, softer in volume and curious.

“Is someone there?”

Lumine’s breath hitched and she pulled away from the parapet, jogging across the terrace until she came upon a few benches. One which was occupied by a young woman with straight brown hair, layered bangs brushing shy of her brow nearly covering the beginnings of thick bandages wrapped around her eyes in a bandana. Her lips formed an ‘o’ and she turned her head from one side to the other, then tucked her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it lightly. “.. Maybe not..” She murmured defeatedly, leaning back against the bench, and seemingly unaware of Paimon hovering centimeters from her face.

To Lumine’s chagrin, Paimon seemed evident on exploring the young woman’s faculties as much as possible. She floated around her head while trying to make as little noise as possible then made faces in front of her. Even going so far as to disappear in mid air then reappear. Lumine frowned and marched over, trying to be as quiet as possible as she plucked Paimon out of the air by the back of her cape so quickly that the little fairy squeaked. Lumine yanked her close to body and away from the young woman surveying the air curiously, likely trying to find the source of the noise.

Keeping her footsteps as quiet as possible, Lumine treaded a few paces away then let the squirming Paimon go. The little fairy turned on her then paled as Lumine folded her arms and glared disapprovingly. “That was very rude, Paimon,” Lumine scolded, and the little fairy bowed her head while picking at her sleeves. “You shouldn’t be making fun of her like that.”

“I’m sorry…” Paimon whined and dropped her hands, descending until she was about eye-level with Lumine, her head hanging and arms swinging loosely at her sides like torn sails.

Lumine sighed. Despite how much knowledge Paimon possessed, she was a bit too honest and often came off quite rude and childish. Her little companion would get herself into a world of trouble if Lumine wasn’t there to pull her out of it. Such a thing should have become troublesome ere long but if anything happened to Paimon, Lumine wouldn’t have been able to forgive herself. The fairy sulked deeply, unwilling to lift her head even when Lumine unfolded her arms and set her hands on her hip.

That’s enough scolding for one day, don’t you think?

Lumine gasped and looked over her shoulder, scanning the terrace for the voice’s source.

“… Lumine?”

Her eyes shuttered and she sighed, turning back to Paimon, dusky blue eyes peeking from beneath her bangs. It wasn’t as if she could be angry at her for long but it was better that she understood what she did and apologized. Lumine shook her head then opened her arms. Paimon lifting her head and inspecting the gesture with a tip of the head then smiling wide, her cape fluttering around her as she darted into Lumine’s arms and hugged her tight around her neck. Lumine sighed, burying her nose in Paimon’s hair. It smelled like something familiar but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. The rose-gold crown floating above Paimon’s head drifting to one side as the fairy rubbed her cheek against Lumine’s shoulder.

“You still have to apologize,” Lumine reprimanded when they separated, the tip of her finger poking Paimon’s nose lightly. The little fairy wrinkled her nose then wiggled it before nodding sullenly, drifting past her slower than before. Lumine watched her as she went then followed suit, smiling to herself. If only her brother could see her now - scolding a fairy of all things.

Lumine looked on with trepidation as Paimon hovered in front of Glory, worrying the tips of her fingers together. She seemed to be struggling with the words to say and glanced back at Lumine for assistance. As hard as it was to believe, despite how outspoken she was, Paimon rarely admitted when she was wrong. Lumine sighed and shook her head, walking over to the empty side of the bench and laying a hand on its back. “Excuse me,” she began softly, quieting her voice when Glory flinched and sat up straighter, turning in her direction. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

There was a bit of hesitation then Glory nodded, a smile curving her lips and brightening her face. “Of course, please..”

Lumine waved lightly to Paimon as she sat down on the bench’s cool surface, opening her arms to the fairy who occupied them and burrowed her face against Lumine’s chest, peeking out at Glory thoughtfully.

“Is your little friend with you as well, miss?” Glory asked, and Paimon squeaked while Lumine gasped softly then stroked the fairy’s hair reassuringly as she burrowed closer. “O-Oh, I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to scare her..”

“P-Paimon isn’t scared,” Paimon insisted, quivering as she peeked out from Lumine’s arms, her brow furrowed and cheeks puffed. “Paimon was just trying to find a way to say sorry and you made Paimon forget!”

Glory’s brow furrowed and she bowed her head, her fingers curling in the hem of her skirt. “Oh, I’m sorry…”

Lumine frowned, clearing her throat and shooting a glare at Paimon. The fairy wiggled free from her arms then floated closer to Glory, swinging her hands back and forth. “No, Paimon is sorry,” she said. “Paimon didn’t know you couldn’t see, and was making fun…”

Glory lifted her head and turned in Paimon’s direction, her lips pursed. “I see…”

“It’s my fault as well,” Lumine chimed in and Paimon gaped at her while Glory turned toward her with a start. “I should have kept an eye on Paimon while we were in town. Being around so many people, I believe she’s a little more excited than usual. We’re both very sorry.”

A tense pause followed. Sorely, Lumine was reminded of what she hated most about apologizing. It didn’t have to be accepted, and in some cases, it often made the situation worse. Seconds stretched out painfully long and Lumine wracked her brain for something to say.

“It’s alright,” said Glory, her hands folded in her lap, thumbs overlapping. Lumine recoiled, blinking with wide eyes. Paimon drifting lazily through the air and watching the woman with keen interest. “I felt the little one.. Er.. Paimon nearby.” Her head tipped to one side and Lumine noticed the ends of her hair curled close to her cheek, brushing shy of her jaw while the rest cascaded down her back. “Some of the children like to play a similar game with me, so I don’t mind at all.”

Lumine hardly knew how to respond to that. Mean-spirited as the act could be, Glory seemed happy to simply be included. When Lumine nor Paimon spoke, Glory pressed on in the silence and leant forward to where Paimon was levitating centimeters in front of her. “Paimon,” she began, and Lumine almost giggled at how the floating girl stiffened up at the sudden address. “If you’d like to play again, perhaps we can when…” Her voice trailed off and curiosity coiled tight in Lumine’s chest as Glory turned toward her direction, prompting a flustered introduction.

“L-Lumine, I’m…” Lumine winced and shot a glare at Paimon as she giggled at her distress. Clearing her throat, her cheeks felt warm as she shyly muttered. “Lumine.”

Glory kindly didn’t mention anything about her slight stutter, seeming happier by the introduction if her widening smile was any indication. Paimon smiled in return when Glory addressed her again, her initial trepidation forgotten.

“When Miss Lumine isn’t busy, okay?”

Paimon nodded enthusiastically then remembered she needed to respond verbally, chirping excitedly, “Okay! Next time, you can make faces at Paimon.”

“I don’t know if they’ll be as entertaining,” warned Glory, and the pair giggled while Lumine looked on confused and relieved.

After that, the mood seemed to settle and Lumine reclined against the bench, half-listening to Paimon’s glowing accounts of the food she’s eaten since coming to Mondstadt. The night is warm and quiet with few save for the occasional knight patrolling the terrace. Lumine waved to a few who knew her. The title of ‘Honorary Knight’ coming with a bit of skepticism and recognition she wasn’t sure she liked. Still, it made her less of an outcast in this world.

Outlander, she thought derisively. Paimon was a native to this world and knew it well but Lumine herself didn’t fit in at all. She wouldn’t have mind it as it wasn’t the first time she and her brother traveled, only to be regarded oddly by the locals. But at that time, it was her and Aether. Like this, even with Paimon’s chattering and joyous companionship, she felt alone. The colorful individuals she’d come across only served to remind her that while she could be part of this world, she didn’t truly belong. And the only person she belonged with wasn’t there.

The same person who was always by her side.

Lumine closed her eyes and curled her fingers in the cloth of her bracer, exhaling through her nose.

“Is something wrong, Miss Lumine?” asked Glory.

Lumine looked over, surprised to find both her and Paimon looking at her. In her lull of presence, the pair had gotten significantly closer with Paimon going so far as to rest a hand on Glory’s shoulder as she floated parallel to her shoulder.

“Mmm,” strained Paimon, squinting at Lumine with an intensity to her wandering gaze. “Oh!” Her mouth formed an ‘o’ and she bobbed her head, seeming to come to her own understanding. “Paimon knows. Lumine is thinking about her brother, and she’s worrying again.”

Credit had to be given for her perceptiveness although Lumine didn’t like the dry look Paimon gave her. A rebuttal on the tip of her tongue until Glory interrupted with a light pat to Paimon's hand.

"That isn't anything to be ashamed of, Paimon," scolded Glory gently, her voice so soft Lumine would've almost mistaken it for the wind. She seemed wistful as she turned to face ahead and laid her hands in her lap. Her thumbs overlapped once then twice and Lumine wondered what it was she was thinking over. 

"I was meaning to ask, but it is late.." Lumine pointed out. "Why are you still out here?"

Glory pressed her hands firmly to her lap, the corners of her lips tightened as they lifted into a smile. “I’m waiting for someone… a few minutes longer won’t make much difference.”

“Waiting on someone?” Lumine asked, tipping her head to one side.

“Mhm, a Knight of Favonius, his name is Godwin.”

Paimon gasped loudly, “Godwin?!”, she laughed and spun around then held out her hands to Lumine who frantically shook her head. “We’ve met him before!”

“Really?” Glory perked up immediately, turned toward Paimon and Lumine inwardly groaned. “You must have come a long ways, he’s currently on an expedition so he hasn’t been home in awhile…”

Paimon cocked her head to one side, pouting. “What? But he’s right out—”

“Still,” Lumine quickly interjected, shooting Paimon a glance and shaking her head again. This time, the floating girl seemed to understand and clamped her hands over her mouth. Lumine tried to quell the panic from her voice, and it wasn’t hard to summon a sympathetic and empathetic tone when she noticed how desperate Glory seemed as she waited for one of them to continue. “I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to make yourself sick waiting for him..”

Glory lowered her head, nodding. “Maybe, but this isn’t solely for him.”

“It’s not?” Lumine asked, tilting her head.

Glory shook her head then clasped her hands over her heart, pressing them close to her chest til the fabric puckled beneath her quivering fingers. “I want to hear his voice and know he’s well,” she said, her smile withering. “It’s a little selfish. Sitting here and waiting for him to come back… he’ll only feel guilty.”

Lumine’s lips parted then closed, her thoughts drifting to Aether. Their entire lives had been spent together and while she knew her brother was somewhere out there - potentially hurt or needing help - would he have been happy to know she spent time looking for him? That she never stopped hoping, praying that their paths would meet again? Or would she have been just as selfish to put him before all of Treyvat? Was that selfish?

Lumine shook her head and said, “No, it’s not,” simultaneously answering her own question and Glory’s. Her smile soft as she relaxed on the bench and pressed her hands to her lap. “I’ll wait here with you, if that’s alright.”

Paimon cheered and flailed her arms. “Ooh ooh~! Paimon will too!”

“Thank you,” Glory sighed, giggling softly as Paimon floated around her. “You’re both very kind.”

Lumine hummed. “No, thank you.”

“Me?” Glory turned to her, lowering her hands.

Lumine nodded. “You reminded me to be patient..”

What was a little longer waiting if it meant they were together in the end after all?

#genshin impact #genshin impact lumine #paimon #fanfiction #my fanfiction

[dewitty1]

Celestial Bodies

shiftylinguini @shiftylinguini

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Characters: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Additional Tags: Bonding, Accidental Bonding, Auror Partners, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, First Time, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Telepathy-gasms, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Draco Malfoy, Forced Proximity, Space Magic

Summary:

“An astrological anomaly induced bond,” Harry repeats, deadpan, as the Head Healer of the Magical Malfunctions ward finishes announcing his prognosis.

“Space magic,” says Draco, tapping long fingers irritably against the arm of his chair. “You’re saying we’ve been zapped by space magic.”

The Healer huffs. “That’s rather simplifying things, gentlemen.”

Excerpt:

The rap of knuckles against Harry’s door is startling in the quiet of the room, and yet not surprising in the least. Harry doesn’t move, except to turn his head to look at the closed door. His fingers still linger along the waistband of his joggers.

“Come in,” he calls out. His voice sounds rough.

The door creaks gently, the faintest sound, as Draco pads into the room on bare feet. He’s shirtless; Harry can see him well enough by the light of his bedside lamp, casting them both into long shadows across the polished floors. Harry doesn’t move from his position at the end of his bed, leaning back on one hand and legs spread wide. Curiously, he doesn’t feel any embarrassment at Draco seeing him like this. If anything, he’d spread his legs wider if he could.

“Hi,” he mutters. His pulse feels like it’s thundering in his throat, but his voice steady.

“Hi.” Draco steps into the room, then backwards again as he closes the door behind him. He leans against it. “Are you just sitting here in the dark, Potter?” he queries softly.

He hands are behind his back, his pyjama bottoms slung low on his hips. Harry can see the jut of his hip bones, leading up to the smooth muscles of his abdomen. He smiles, lets his eyes linger obviously over the bare expanse of Draco’s stomach, his torso. They’re criss crossed with the faintest white scars, thin lines that are too neat to be anything other than magical. Harry knows he should feel guilt at the sight of them, that he left those marks on Draco, but he doesn’t now.

Water under the bridge, Draco had said, the first time Harry saw him with his shirt off. Nothing worse than what I chose to have put on me, he explained while gesturing at his left forearm and the pale serpentine scar etched along it. Harry’s own body is mottled with scars from the past, too, on his chest and hand and forehead. They make a nice pair, Harry supposes, with their blemished and tarnished bodies―all these marks that cover them. Harry wants to put his mouth over every single one on Draco’s skin.

“It’s not dark. The lamp’s on.” Harry inclines his head behind him, indicating the bedside. His fingers scrunch against the bed covers as his arms bears his weight behind him. “What were you doing?” he asks, moving his other hand away from his waistband and resting it back behind him. The change in position opens him up even more, his arms behind him and his legs parted. He watches the bob of Draco’s Adam’s apple as he swallows. He wants to lick at the dip of Draco’s flushed throat. His mouth waters with it.

“What do you think―” Draco cuts himself off and swallows again. He pushes himself away from the wall, hips first, and starts to walk over to Harry. Harry can see the shape of his cock through the material of Draco’s pyjama bottoms, the heft of it as it punches out the dark satin. Harry shifts a little, his own prick semi-hard and pressing against the soft fleece of his joggers. He doesn’t try to hide that he’s watching Draco walk. There’s no point in hiding it now, and no need to. Harry feels giddy with that knowledge.

Draco stops in front of him, right between Harry’s parted legs. Harry’s thighs strain slightly, tension thick through his muscles. He curls his fingers into loose fists, his face tilted up meet Draco’s eyes. The air between them feels charged, electric. It isn’t magic, Harry knows this. It’s just them.

“You know what I was doing,” Draco says after a moment. His voice is soft and low, his cheeks flushed pink. He’s so pale, Harry thinks, that he never gets quite red when he blushes, just goes pink all over instead. Harry wants to press his thumbs against Draco’s skin, watch the flush fade to white and then spring back again. “Don’t you, Harry?” Draco leans closer, so close and yet not touching Harry at all.

Harry blinks, the movement slow even as his heartbeat kicks up in his chest. He nods, arms straining behind him. Draco’s mouth twists into a smile, his eyes dark and his expression hungry.

“I thought so.” He licks his lips, eyes flitting over Harry’s face. Slowly, he raises his hands, long fingers reaching towards Harry. Harry holds his breath, then lets it out in an audible rush as Draco pulls his glasses off his face, gentle as anything. He folds them, the click of metal on metal so faint in the quiet, lamplit room. Harry watches his hands, the barely visible shake in them. Nervous, Harry thinks, his stomach somersaulting. He feels it inside himself too. Nervousness, excitement, anticipation. It buzzes through him in the echo chamber of this room, of the chemistry between them, with the bond exacerbating that what which was already there into cosmic proportions.

Harry shivers at the feeling of Draco’s magic, so familiar in this new terrain, as Draco gently sends Harry’s glasses sailing towards the bedside table. They land silently beside the lamp. Draco steps closer between Harry’s parted legs.

“Are we doing this, then, Harry?” His hair falls across his forehead as he raises his hands back to Harry’s face, stopping just shy of touching him. Harry breathes in deeply, drinking in the sight of Draco, warm and real and right in front of Harry. Ready for him.

“Better be.” Harry’s voice is a low rumble, his eyes wide and his whole body thrumming with anticipation.

Draco smiles, the curve of his lips sweet and enticing, as he moves his left hand closer to Harry’s face.

“No touching,” he whispers, his smile so beautific it makes Harry’s breath catch in his throat. “Isn’t that the rule?”

Harry breathes out harshly on a laugh. He swallows, every inch of him wanting to turn his face into Draco’s cupped hand. “Never been great at rules,” Harry croaks.

Draco presses his lips together, then runs his tongue over then. “No.” Draco’s smile returns. “Nor I,” he whispers, bringing his fingers to Harry’s cheek.

At first, Harry feels nothing, except the soft touch of Draco’s fingertips against his skin. He wants to curl his face into the touch, but that’s hardly surprising; he’s wanted that for weeks. He isn’t sure what he expected, perhaps a zap or a zing of something as soon as they touched, but he doesn’t feel anything new―just the low rumble of excitement in his belly, the weighty hang of his cock between his legs, and now Draco’s soft touch lingering over the stubble on his jaw.

“Strange,” Draco mumbles, flattening his palm over Harry’s jaw and letting his fingers cup behind Harry’s ear. “Do you feel…”

Harry shakes his head, gently so as not to dislodge Draco’s hand. “Nothing I didn’t already feel.”

It seems like a bigger admission than it is, and Harry shuts his eyes against the fondness he sees on Draco’s face. When he opens them, he looks down at Draco’s wrist. He can see the pale blue lines of his veins, the ropey stretch of tendons. There’s something vulnerable about this place, Harry thinks, where the skin seems so thin. He opens his mouth, lets his breath gust over Draco’s wrist. Draco’s fingers press more tightly against the soft hair at the back of Harry’s head.

“I thought I would―” Draco swallows, cutting himself off as Harry breathes over his skin again. Harry’s face feels warm in all the places Draco is touching him. “I thought it would feel more― oh.”

Draco bends forwards, his words sliding off into a gasp as Harry presses his lips to the thin skin of Draco’s inner wrist.

“Yeah.” Draco huffs a laugh. “That’s what I was expecting it to feel like.”

Harry hums, kissing over Draco’s skin again. He can’t describe what he feels, beyond a heightened awareness of every place his lips touch, his mouth almost tingling. He feels starved for it, and he cups his own hand over the back of Draco’s, shifting his hips restlessly as he brings Draco’s wrist closer. Draco lets his wrist go lax, easier for Harry to manoeuvre. He rests his knee on the bed between Harry’s parted legs, inches from his groin. Harry feels so aware of everywhere Draco is, feels like he could almost whine with it.

He kisses up Draco’s arm, lets his tongue slip out to taste him. Draco’s breath hitches, and Harry does it again, his kisses turning wet and open-mouthed. He’s never cared much for this before, never wanted to taste every bit of someone. Right now, he’d lick Draco’s armpit if he would let him, and he feels no shame in it. There doesn’t seem to be room for doubt when he can feel how turned on Draco is. It crashes over him like waves in the wake of Harry’s mouth and tongue moving over his skin. Harry’s own arms, the soft skin above his wrists, prickle with sensation too. It hardly seems real, but all of it is. Above him, Draco is breathing hard already.

Harry stops at the crook of Draco’s elbow, letting his lips rest against the tender skin there. It’s another private, vulnerable place that Draco is letting Harry see, letting him get to. He swirls his tongue lightly, gasps in the echoed sensation against his own elbow. He sits up, both hands holding Draco’s arm now, keeping it close to his mouth. The movement brings his groin closer to Draco’s bent knee.

“I like that,” Draco murmurs, something almost dazed in his voice.

Harry breathes in deeply, watches goosebumps rise along Draco’s skin as he breathes out again. “I want to kiss you,” he manages, the words mostly a breathless jumble against Draco’s arm. Draco understands him well enough, though.

“Yeah,” he replies, voice rough as he brings both hands to cup Harry’s head and tilt it back before he leans down, pressing his lips to Harry’s.

(*˘︶˘*).｡.:*♡

#Celestial Bodies #shiftylinguini #Drarry #Drarry fanfiction #drarry fic rec #fic rec #my recs #Drarry smut #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Drarry bond fic #Drarry accidental bond fic #accidental bond #Drarry auror partners #Carey's bookmark fic recs #Carey's personal Bookmarks

[blackbutterfliescal]

A Storm Of Trouble

A Michael Clifford One Shot

Pairing: Pirate!Michael Clifford & Reader

Word count: 3.3K

Rating: Just For Fun

Requested by: Not requested but it was supposed to be part of the Michael Week @sadistmichael hosted. I’m late as always but I’m still gonna post it 🤷‍♀️

Content: second person POV, gender neutral reader insert, best friends finding themselves in a night of chaos, drinking, swearing, violence but no graphic details, reader as a sex worker, brief appearances of Calum being A Little Shit

A/N: This all started because of that damn earring... I know that romance (in any form) does well on here, but I thought it would be fun to write a friend fic. Sue me. Big thank yous to @mashlums @haikucal @sexgodashton @jae-writes-fanfiction and @cheekysos for encouraging me on this one!

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———

The wooden slats above Michael’s head groaned, heavy with footsteps and many years of wear on the high seas. It was clear that the ship was docking somewhere for the night to restock supplies, but Michael couldn’t be stirred from the hammock where he rested just below deck. Several minutes passed as he concentrated on the slow drip of water into the pail in the corner, looking for some sense of peace in the chaos the rest of the crew was creating. The metal made a sharp sound with each drop that hit, but it was a tone he’d grown accustomed to after many months aboard this particular ship. He often used it to lull himself to sleep, struggling to ignore Calum’s incessant snoring. It wasn’t until one of his crewmates shouted the name of a familiar port that Michael paid much attention to the commotion happening on the surface. Usually preferring to stay aboard the ship and not risk any potential scuffles on land, he now understood why so many of the crew were anxious to disembark.

Port Royal was notorious for the wide array of debauchery around every turn. Especially this time of night, it was always crawling with other scoundrels just looking for a bad fight or a good fuck. Or maybe a good fight and a bad fuck. The derelict port had such a reputation for its treatment of outsiders that none of the king’s men ever dared a visit, leaving the people who were floating through to act as their own law and order. 

The grimy, dilapidated buildings just past the worn dock called to Michael. He’d lived a pirate’s life since he was orphaned as a young boy, sailing far and wide, but this port was the closest thing he had to a home. He only hoped that he could find his oldest friend still in the hut just past the wall where the land met the sea.

———

Michael made his way beyond the wobbly old dock, peering in the dimly lit pubs only briefly as he passed. His well-worn leather boots carried his tired feet through the filthy streets to an all-but-forgotten yet somehow still familiar scene. Covered by the shadow of the night couples of every sort were pressed against each other, no doubt trading secret desires. At his unfamiliar approaching figure, the silhouetted couples all vanished into the brothel before him quicker than he could blink an eye. 

Hidden from easy view in the moonlight, the door slammed against the frame just as Michael approached. His hands, rough from years of work as a swabby, landed hard against the faded green wood thrice before it swung open. It rested uneven on its hinges and revealed a plump young woman in dark red corseted dress. The ruffles around her neckline were no longer a crisp, clean white but still managed to pull Michael’s attention directly to her ample bosom. His eyes continued to work over her figure. He didn’t miss the way her stomach pushed out against the ribbed garment covering it. She was such a sight that Michael considered a short detour before beginning to search the brothel for you.

“Well, ain’t ye a handsome devil. Fancy cracking Jenny’s teacup, eh?”

Before Michael could let a smooth response fall from his mouth, footsteps landing hard under long strides sounded down the hallway. Michael’s eyes, dark with lust, brightened as he took you in. You were exactly as he remembered and somehow completely different. It had been years since Michael was last in Port Royal but the two of you had kept up through letters as you were able. 

“Back off, wench. This one’s wit’ me.” The woman in red threw a scowl and a few choice curses at you as you squeezed past her in the doorway, arms quickly finding Michael in a tight embrace. “Oi, s’that a hornpipe in yer pocket or are ya just happy t’ see me?” You offered him a cheeky grin as his face warmed, caught red-handed, and he cast his gaze past you to find the woman in red missing from the door frame.

———

As seemed natural, you and Michael found yourselves kicked back in the corner of the closest pub. Boot-clad feet resting high on the table and a second bottle of rum nearly gone, you shared laughs and stories between swigs that were drowned out in the raucous noise of the other patrons. Two large men were attempting to settle their score through a game of fisticuffs at the bar and neither seemed to have their wits about them, stumbling on their own feet. A number of recognizable faces from the brothel were here to pick up company for the night, or maybe just the next few minutes. The most familiar face among them was Ash. A wordsmith of sorts, he had settled in close to a pretty, young blonde with eyes so blue that you could make them out across the room. Michael could pick out the back of Calum’s head as he raked in a pile of coins, no doubt employing his sharp mind in a game of liar’s dice.

Unphased by the rowdy crowd, the two of you were content in a universe that was contained entirely at that corner table. Michael told you stories of all the places he’d visited since you’d last seen him. Tales of India and China and all the bounty you could imagine. To be no older than he was, he’d done a lifetime’s worth of travelling. It didn’t come easy though. Work aboard a pirate ship, even with a fair captain, was endless and often meant risking life or limb to secure loot. He also listened intently as you recounted your tale of the one who had left you high and dry after a broken engagement. It had left your heart with an unhealing wound as deep red as the rope burns on Michael’s calloused hands. His eyes remained soft as you spoke of the person you thought was finally going to pull you out of the life you led. Routinely selling your body to the highest bidder had never much bothered you. You often found a sense of power at being the agent of someone’s deepest desires.That was until this one particular person became a frequent caller of yours. You knew no shame about the way you earned your coin but now you were crushed under their broken promises of a steady life, a life that didn’t mean hiding from the law or rousing up drunk sailors just to put food in your stomach.

Neither of you would have chosen life as a criminal for yourselves, but any trace of life before this felt like it belonged to someone else. As Michael began to yell for another bottle of rum, the back door to the pub flew open and landed harshly against the wall behind it. The man standing where the door had been was intimidating.Twice as large as Michael and covered in tattoos. He was flanked by a woman whose arms looked strong enough to crush you with ease and a bald man with a weathered scar down the right side of his face, covered only briefly by the leather patch on his eye.

“I knew I smell’d a bilge rat. Clifford! We ‘ave a debt t’ settle!!” His accent was heavy and you thought maybe it was Irish. His eyes landed on Michael, lounging in the far corner. As Michael’s eyes went wide and he leapt to his feet, he felt his head spin from the booze. The man that had barged in drew his sword and that was enough to bring Michael back for just a moment, long enough to process that he was in trouble. He quickly pulled you to your feet and tugged you behind him. “Shame! We’re jus’ leavin’!”

It took most of your self-control not to spray out the last burning chug of alcohol you’d just thrown back before being snatched up from your seat. You made a quick recovery, considering the amount of rum you’d already swallowed down, crashing out the front door and spilling into the muddy road. You weren’t sure how long the two of you had been in the pub but you’d clearly missed any indication of the current downpour. You splashed through the streets, following Michael’s already soaked form in and out of countless doorways. As he cleared what had to be the twentieth doorframe, he stepped quickly into the corner and pulled you with him. You landed against his broad chest with a thud. It would have knocked the wind out of you if you hadn’t already been breathing heavy from the zig-zagged marathon.

As you took a step back from Michael, he let his fast grip fall and looked around at where he’d landed the two of you. He saw the pigs in the opposite corner sleeping in the cool mud and the horse’s stall just next to the pig pen. He held his index finger to his pursed lips, signaling you not to disturb the livestock. Just as you were finally able to catch your breath, you felt it hitch in your throat again as the large brutish man called out to Michael. “Alright ye filthy animal. I know yer hidin’ ‘round ‘ere somewhere.” You shared an amused glance at the choice of words. Michael began to slowly draw the large blade looped through the belt hanging against his hip, preparing to go down fighting. You felt a brief sense of panic at the realization that you’d left your own sword behind. Spying a smaller handle on Michael’s other hip, you reached your hand out to grip the tarnished handle and pulled it up in front of you. The knife flashed in the low light, smaller than the blade you were accustomed to, but desperate times....

Taking careful steps, or as careful as possible after two bottles of rum, Michael inched his way out of the barn door and into the rain. You were a few steps behind him and hadn’t cleared the door yet when the scar-faced man appeared behind Michael with a taunt. Just as he raised his blade to engage Michael, you brought the heavy handle of your weapon down on top of his head. The man immediately fell face-first into the water at Michael’s feet. Michael’s hair clung to his face in the rain as he spun to give you a wide-eyed but silent thank you, hoping the others that were still after him weren’t close enough to hear.

No sooner did the thought cross his mind than two menacing shadows appeared at the other end of the barn. You stashed Michael’s knife in your belt, bending down to snatch the sword from the man lying on the ground, and took off again hot on Michael’s heels. You followed him around the back of another house and down a pitch black alley.

As you emerged on the other side, a loud grunt sounded beside you, followed by the clang of Michael’s sword meeting the Irishman’s. It was shortly followed by his partner’s blade meeting your stolen one. Though you’d had your fair share of practice with a sword, you felt like a novice next to Michael’s skillful hand. Metal clashed as the storm raining down on the island intensified, lightning strikes flashing through the sky with every scrape of swords. The woman you were up against was clearly a better swordsman than you and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep up. You weren’t sure how it had happened, but she had you backed against a wall. Your sword was the only thing keeping her blade from bearing down on your throat. As quickly as you could manage, you brought one hand to your belt, pulling the knife out again before landing it in the woman’s side. Her mouth fell open and she stumbled back from you as you removed the blade. Her sword clattered to the ground and it wasn’t long before she fell beside it. The wound wasn’t enough to kill her but it would keep her out of your way so you could help Michael.

You hadn’t been able to spare him a glance as you fought for your own life but you weren’t shocked to see that he was holding his own against the giant. You ran up behind the man with a yell and he spun around to meet your blow. After sending you stumbling back a few steps, he turned to face Michael again. He wore the shock on his face as Michael’s blade came to rest in the hollow of his throat. The man slowly lowered his weapon, realizing Michael had bested him. You heard a shuffle behind you as the woman reached for her sword. Your boot landed heavy on top of the metal as you trained your sword on her, daring her to make a move. Behind you, Michael’s words were lost in the sudden boom of thunder. Only when you heard him call your name did you take your eyes off the woman on the ground in front of you. Michael was backing away as he lowered his weapon, seeming to have settled his debt. You slowly removed your foot from the sword on the ground, giving the most menacing look you could manage, and ran after Michael’s retreating figure. When you caught up to him, you noticed that the sleeve of his open shirt had been torn and under it there was a gash in Michael’s bicep. After much persuasion, Michael agreed to follow you back to the brothel to get it cleaned up. If it became infected, it could cost him his life.

———

Bringing Michael in would have caught attention in any state, but as he held onto his arm and dripped rainwater everywhere, you gathered more stares than you would have liked. He leaned over the kitchen table, waiting for you to gather supplies. It wasn’t pretty but you doused the wound with alcohol and Michael seemed more upset at the loss of rum than the burning it caused. Once it was cleaned to your satisfaction, you ripped the hem of your clothing to tie it around his arm.

“Thanks.” His eyes were soft as they met yours. “I would ‘ave been a dead man without yer help.”

“Yer goddamn right! But what else are friends fer?”

You shared a laugh as Michael pushed himself back upright with his other arm, following you back to the front door and out into the night. The storm seemed to have run its course and left only a light drizzle in its wake as you made your way through the streets again, walking under cover of any roof you passed. You walked with your heads ducked between coverings as you laughed and recounted your astounding victory over Michael’s assailants, wondering what happened to the scar-faced man. 

Up ahead, you spot a familiar figure walking in your direction. Without warning, you shove Michael into a dark alley and shush him with wide eyes. Luckily for you, your unfortunate recurring caller had kept their gaze on the ground in an effort to keep the still-falling droplets off their face. They hadn’t seen you disappear but you hadn’t noticed how incredibly narrow this alley was. You shivered as you felt Michael’s warm breath fall across your rain-slicked face. Your feet stood between his and there was hardly enough room between your chests to take a full breath in. Michael’s eyes stayed trained on you, looking for any sign of an all clear. You watched intently, waiting for the caller to pass by. Once they made their way by the narrow opening where you hid without suspicion, you placed your hands on Michael’s sides to steady yourself and pushed your head toward the street. As the figure made a turn, you counted to three silently and stepped out into the street again with a dramatic exhale. Michael slowly followed you with a quizzical look on his face.

“Ya can wipe that look off yer face, ya smug bastard. I ain’t talkin’ ‘til ye explain the burly man and his goons chasin’ ya earlier.” Michael’s expression dropped with a humorous scoff, unwilling to share what had landed him in such trouble. Nights like tonight were exactly why he preferred to stay aboard the ship. He just couldn’t resist the chance to catch up with you. You also knew that tonight would cost you. Literally. You’d have to up the ante the rest of the week to make up for the night out but you felt that Michael was worth it.

———

Conversation continued to flow easily, as if nothing between the two of you ever changed. You weaved through the streets, careful to avoid main thoroughfares for worry of any more excitement. Two close calls was enough for one night. It didn’t slip your notice that both of you took to yawning big, deep breaths much more frequently as the last few hours slipped by, a sign that the morning light was well on its way. You knew you’d be able to catch a few hours of sleep once Michael was back on the water, but you also hoped he’d be able sweet-talk someone into letting him curl up in his hammock for a little while. You didn’t give it too much worry though. You knew Michael never had trouble sweet-talking his way through anyone. He’d always been a charmer.

As you made your way through the last side street and onto the dock, you heard a loud rumble of footsteps and immediately braced your newly-found sword. Your other hand fell on Michael’s knife, still tucked into your belt, and quickly handed it over to him as he drew his own blade. A flash of surprise crossed his face as if he’d gone all night without realizing the knife was missing. The sounds of enraged men grew louder as they rounded the corner. Michael immediately recognized Calum at the front of the crowd, realizing quickly that Calum’s clever antics had landed him in trouble yet again. You followed Michael’s lead and dropped your weapon as he let out a full-bellied laugh. As Calum dashed past you down the dock, he yelled out a casual greeting and flashed a cheeky grin. “Michael!” One hand raised to meet his brow in a salute. “Michael’s friend!” Another salute.

You joined Michael in another fit of laughter. As he turned to watch Calum running down the dock to their safe haven, Michael saw their ship and realized the ropes were being pulled off the dock as the ramp to the ship was being dragged back over the railing. A few curses fell from his lips as he took off in a dead run after his friend, yelling something unintelligible over his shoulder that was surely meant for you. You thought it was something about not groping for trout in any peculiar rivers but had no idea what he could mean and dismissed it as Michael being Michael. Your sides began to hurt from laughter as he passed the angry mob to catch up with Calum. Both men leapt through the air at the same time as their ship pulled away from the dock. Calum’s hands grabbed hold of the railing while Michael employed his knife to keep hold of the ship. Calum pulled himself overboard with ease and turned to quickly bring Michael onboard with him. A few brave, but ill-fated, members of the mob risked a jump but landed in the water with a splash. They resurfaced with enough curses to make Blackbeard blush. Michael threw an obscene gesture at the disgruntled men before lifting his gaze to wave goodbye to you as they made off into the bright sunrise under a clear sky.

———

taglist: @easierlftv @haikucal @mashlums @youngblood199456 @calumbroutledge @atlcalm @another-lonely-heart @castaway-cashton @itsjen223 @bloodyoathcal @vapor5sos @myloverboyash​ @justhereforcalum​

#michael2020 #michael fluff #michael clifford fluff #michael x reader #michael clifford x reader #michael one shot #michael clifford one shot #my writing #mine

[greenninjagal-blog]

I’m soft for your anxceit so 18/19 with Virgil and Dee?

Oh boy here we go. 

Summary: Virgil’s trading ship is attacked by pirates.

Words: 2281

TW: blood, killing, human trafficking

Quick Taglist: @chelsvans @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3 @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @thenaiads @treasureofpriam

Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist

600 Pieces of Eight

19. 

“Tie him up,” The man says.

Virgil is not panicking. He is far past panicking at this point. Panicking is an island that Virgil can’t even see on the distance and he is drowning in the sea of hysteria around him.

He struggles against the arms holding him down on the deck, ignoring the threat of the blades hanging just over him– blades that were already slick and red in the mid morning sun and smelled like copper. His arms strain against the grips on him, his feet kick and his back arches. It’s useless though, and he knows it. For every sailor on their ship there had been four pirates, and now?

Now it is just Virgil.

The gruff man who is holding him throws him to the salt dried deck of the merchant ship ignoring the screams from behind Virgil’s gag, the pleads, the curses. His head lands just shy of the puddle of blood that was the only reminder of the First Mate, splattering of crimson that glistened in the sunlight. 

Virgil and the First Mate hadn’t gotten along at all, but Virgil had watched the Pirate Captain run his own cutlass right through him and Virgil had screamed so loud they stuffed his mouth with a leather patch.

Virgil twists his arms until he thinks they’re break right out of their sockets, tears burn behind his eyes, and the gag makes it near impossible to swallow. He feels the rope twist around his wrists too many times to count, knot in an intricate way that only a seaman would have known. 

He had thought they would kill him.

Instead the Pirate Captain, with eyes so light they looked yellow, had looked down at Virgil, as his crew cut into the hapless sailors. Virgil could still feel where the man had clutched his jaw with those silk gloves and forced Virgil to look up at him, at those unreadable eyes, and he could still hear the ringing voice in his head as the man called him “Pretty” and said he’d “fetch a good price”.

They were going to keep him like a pet. They were going to sell him.

And Virgil thinks he’d rather have been tossed overboard or run through with a saber or anything else. 

His chest scrapes at the floor, someone’s hands were in his hair forcing his cheek into the deck. The salt spray tastes exactly like his tears. Some nameless form towering over him shouts a command, but Virgil can’t hear it at all. Their shadows are huge compared to Virgil’s. They block out the sun itself.

Sounds blur together.

The shadow over him swings something downward, heavy and metallic.

And when Virgil wakes up again his legs are being dragged over the gangplank to the Pirate Ship. His head stings and there’s something sticky rolling down his forehead that makes it hard to focus on anything. There’s a pirate on either side of him, dragging him, like he’s a piece of cargo, just another thing stolen off the merchant ship that was stupid enough to attempt to sail this passage when the rumors of pirates and sunken ships were floating about the sea foam.

He blearily watches two sailors lighting torches. The smell of oil burn the back of his throat and his head lolls forward again.

Mercifully, Virgil’s unconscious before they send his trading ship down to the sea floor in a blistering funeral pyre.

When he comes to again, he’s on the floor of a room. For a tantalizingly awful second Virgil truly thinks it had all been a nightmare, that he was still in the seaside inn of Valerie. But the sway of the floor is too familiar, the rocking of a ship was engraved in Virgil’s bones and it makes him want to throw up the mutton they had for dinner the previous night.

A dinner which Virgil realizes, he had with people who are all dead now. They’re dead and he’s not.

They replaced the ropes, and it takes Virgil too long to notice: instead of the chafing hemp fibers, cutting into his skin, there are chains that rattle as he moves sluggishly. The cuffs hook his wrists together and his neck and bind him to the floor with padlocks thicker than than Virgil’s fingers. The black metal shines in the oil lamp light, dark and cold and unforgiving. It’s polished like brand new and unbreakable.

There’s movement across the room, movement that makes Virgil’s breath hitch right in his throat until he can’t breathe at all. 

Its a large room. There’s a physical bed, and a desk not far away where the oil lamps sit surrounded my star charts and maps. The windows behind the desk are covered by dark red curtains that make Virgil think of the blood dripping from the low ceiling to the floor. There’s gold on the desk too, gold piece and an sixpence and pieces of eight that look to be more than Virgil could make in a year of selling his cloths and embroideries. The bookshelves are full, but Virgil gets sick looking at them. 

Someone once told him books are a gateway to the soul, and Virgil wants no part in knowing the soul of a pirate captain who killed handful of innocent men and now had him chained up like a pet.

The Captain is sitting at the desk rolling a six pence between the fingers of his yellow gloves staring at it as if it is the most interesting thing he has ever seen. Virgil is acutely aware that the only thing between them is that desk.

“If you had to guess,” The captain says without preamble, “How much do you think you are worth?”

Virgil is a merchant. His mind runs the numbers even when his throat is to dry to do anything other than gasp for air. He tugs on the chains,putting as much space between him and the Pirate as possible.

“I think perhaps 300 pieces of eight,” The Captain held up the coin and peered down at Virgil. “Unless you are the sickly sort. Are you?”

He’s not, but he feel like he is. His skin burns and bristles at the same time, and his traveling outfit feels like a second skin he is quickly growing out of. His lungs twitch gasp in his chest and his dark hair falls over his left eye.

The Captain watches him for a moment, two, three, before pulling his boots down from the desk and standing up. His steps are measured and sure and Virgil tries to shrink back from them but there’s no place to go. The metal collar around his neck holds his head in place as the Captain forces him to look up at him again.

They’re barely a breath away from each other, barely an inch, and Virgil tries to burrow his head down but the man’s hold is too tight on the soft flesh under Virgil’s jaw.

“Your Captain asked you a question,” The man said.

Virgil squeezes his hands into fists, “You’re– You’re no captain of mine.”

“It speaks,” The Captain sings mildly amused. “Does it sing too? Tell jokes like a court jester?”

Virgil strains to turn his head but hold tightens and the pain causes Virgil’s jaw to lock. He’s body shakes, but his glare is something he got from his mother, and his mother never wavered. “It bites, picaroon!”

The Captain laughs right in his face. With his free hand he uses the pad of his thumb to roll over Virgil’s cheek bone, stilling Virgil with the touch. 

“What a fearsome creature we found at sea,” He muses, watching as Virgil’s face darkens with humiliated blush.

With less than a hand full of inches between them Virgil can see the detailed work in the collar of his black jacket: the golden finery that swirled like snakes up the folded collar and around the hems of the sleeves. It was done with an unsteady hand, an unpracticed hand.

“So speak, creature,” The Pirate says, “How much to do you think you are worth?”

“I’ll make you loose money,” Virgil snarls. 

“I doubt it,” the Captain says oh so calmly. “With hair as dark as yours? Skin pale as snow? Eyes like whirlpools? I do believe you’ll be the talk of the port.”

Virgil gnashes his teeth, but the Captain merely tuts at him and brushes back a lock of his hair. “Unless of course there is a reason you can think that I should allow you to stay on my ship.”

Virgil doesn’t respond beyond tensing his shoulders. The captain seems to find it fit to twist the lock of hair in his hand as if analyzing it. Acutely, Virgil is aware that this was the man who called him pretty.

Not that Virgil had never heard that before: his mother had said his slim face was more fitting for a girl and his father had had joked that a beard wouldn’t have looked good with his eyes. The girls in town had hummed and haaa-ed over him before he had taken to the sea with his parents that first time. Then with salt in his hair the drunken boys in the taverns had begged him not to leave. Their affections had been wasted.

The Captain hums. “350 piece of eight, I think.”

“You’ll pay 350 to get rid of me,” Virgil shoots back.

Those yellow eyes flicker in the lamp light, the corners of his lips twitch. “Then I must know the name of the man who’d cost me so much.”

Virgil’s jaw snaps shut.

The Captain hums again. “Interesting.” He let go of Virgil’s jaw finally allowing him to burrow his head back to his chest. The Pirate took a step back with a dismissive way of his hand.

“I am Captain Dee, The Serpent of the Sea,” He says. “You are aboard my ship the Siren’s Song.” 

“You’ll toss me over board if you know what’s good for you.” Virgil hisses.

Captain Dee’s head tilts ever so slightly, although he doesn’t even bother to look over at Virgil at all. “I wasn’t aware the fish could admire such beauty.”

“I wasn’t aware that the Captain of a ship was a bilge rat.”

Captain Dee hums infuriatingly again. He walks a few more paces to his book shelf and removes a book, with careful intensity. Then without paying Virgil any mind he settles back on his bed and flips it open to a predetermined page.

Virgil isn’t sure why that annoys him. He rubs his own hands over his jaw where the Captain had touched him to where the metal collar kept him stationary. There was something intense about the Captain that made Virgil’s skin prick, the way his focus seemed to zero on what was in front of him, unwaveringly. 

Virgil didn’t think anyone had looked at him that intently before.

And to be suddenly dismissed just as easily?

Virgil grits his teeth as he sits on the floor, listening to the silence of the room. The walls creak and wail, singing their own ode to the sea but beyond that there’s no sound of the crew running the sails.

The silence should have been nice.

But instead all Virgil can think about is how he’s on a pirate ship and if he doesn’t die here, then he’ll auctioned off in some marketplace where he’ll never touch the sea again. About how he’s never going to see the hills of Valerie again and his parents will live on believing that he died at the hands of a Pirate like everyone else on that ship. 

“Why did you kill them?” Virgil asks before he really thinks about it.

Captain Dee raises his eyebrow at him from beyond the book, “I wonder if you realize that any other Pirate would have killed you for talking like that to them.” 

“I don’t,” Virgil picks at the hem of his trousers, “There’s a reason they’re smarter than you.”

Captain Dee smirks ever so slightly. “Mouthy little sea creature.” He flips a page. “They pissed me off, so I killed them.”

“And I didn’t?”

The Captain takes great care to look over at him, “400 pieces of eight.”

“In a choice between getting rid of me and buying yourself a decent cloak, I hope you are prepared to leave the market empty handed.”

“What’s wrong with my current cloak?”

Virgil blinks. “Besides the terrible stitching and embroidery?”

“450.”

“There goes your new hat too.” Virgil snaps.

Captain Dee just laughs at him, yet again. “Will you cost me my entire fortune, little sea monster? 500 pieces of eight.”

“I don’t think you know how currency works.”

“Oh?” He says. “I believe I do. The more valuable a thing is, the more I should sell it for, correct?”

Virgil doesn’t say anything to this because the Captain had put down his book and leaned on an arm to stare at him. In the lamp light he looks like a nightmarish creature that stole children from their beds and terrorized villages like the one Virgil grew up in. His yellow eyes spoke of a promise of something and Virgil can’t quite put a name to the feeling that rose up in his throat.

“And if there is something I decide I can’t live without,” The Captain says slowly, “I should not sell it for anything at all, yes? No matter what price is offered to me?”

The metal cuffs around Virgil’s wrists and his neck feel too cold and too tight.

Dee hums again and leans back to his book. “600 pieces of eight.”

#virgil sanders #deceit sanders #Anxceit #sanders sides fic #pirates #tw blood #human trafficking #oh dear my hand slipped #greengabs #unsympathetic deceit #which wow #I never use that tag #I think I physically hurt myself typing it out

[let-it-raines]

Storybrooke Haunted Farms

“Want to be chased through a corn maze? Take a ride in a trailer full of hay in the middle of the woods? Play paintball with zombies? Explore a haunted ghost ship? If this sounds like fun to you, come to Storybrooke Haunted Farms where the fun is cheap and the thrills are terrifying. Open from October 1st - October 31st.”

Emma Swan has been working at Storybrooke Haunted Farms for the past four years, and she’s done everything from work the haunted hayride to chasing paying customers through a corn maze with a fake chainsaw. It’s always been a good way for her to make a little extra cash for the holidays for her son, and it’s most likely the best time she’s ever had working.

That is until her assignment changes and she’s made to work on the pirate ship exhibit with Killian Jones, quite possibly the most obnoxious man alive.

Rating: Teen-ish

A/n: I told myself that I didn't have time to write a Halloween story, but then my brain was like “what if” and I figured I’d do something for @cshalloweek​ even if this doesn’t really fit a theme. So here we are! I hope you have a spook-tacular time reading 🎃

Found on AO3 | HERE |

Tagging: @captainsjedi @wellhellotragic @galaxyzxstark @thejollyroger-writer @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @tiganasummertree @xellewoods@idristardis @karenfrommisthaven  @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @ultimiflos @jamif @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke  @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81

-/-

Laces tighten around Emma’s back, and her breath hitches as her lungs are very literally constricted from the corset that’s being tightened to cinch her waist and push her breasts up several inches higher than they should ever be.

The money may not be worth this.

There’s another tug, and Emma gasps as she leans forward to curl her fingers around the edge of the antique vanity in front of her, her eyes squeezing shut as she imagines herself to be literally anywhere else.

Anywhere.

And she hasn’t even had to put on the skirts or the top or had her hair pinned back so that bobby pins are sticking into the back of her neck to give her a headache.

“Mary Margaret,” Emma gasps before clenching her teeth as yet another lace is tightened, “it’s too tight. I’m not going to be able to breathe.”

“You’ll become accustomed to it. I promise. It’s really not that bad.”

“You only say that because you’re not wearing one, which is complete and utter bullshit by the way.”

Mary Margaret sighs behind Emma as she tugs again, and Emma’s eyes fly open so that she can see her face in the mirror. And her boobs. And an unnaturally tiny waist. This is not normal, and there’s no way that she’s going to become accustomed to it.

“You know I don’t make the decisions on the costumes. That is completely and totally out of my hands.”

“Your mother owns the place.”

“Step,” Mary Margaret corrects. “Step-mother. She owns it.”

“Yeah, but your mom owned it first. It was her brain child, and I feel like you should get some say in what costumes and attractions people get to work in. I wore jeans and a plaid shirt last year, Marg. I’m having to wear a full-on corset and medieval dress this year. How the hell am I supposed to run?”

There’s a final tug, and Emma almost pops out of the corset. “I don’t think you are. I mean, the haunted ship is our newest attraction, and it’s not going to be like the hayride or the corn maze. There’s not a lot of running after people. It’s more like jump scares.”

“But I hate jump scares.”

“You like the money, and you fit into the costumes we ordered. If you really hate it, I’ll see if you can get put on the rotation for the zombie paintball.”

“I would rather walk around this place in nothing but my underwear than be a team member for zombie paintball.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

It takes another fifteen minutes for Emma to fully get into the costume. There are layers to it, far too many skirts than should ever be necessary, but it’s apparently some kind of authentic costume for a bar wench that would serve pirates in whatever century is being depicted on the ship. Emma doesn’t know, and she doesn’t really care about historical accuracy. All she cares about is the fact that every night for all of October, she’s going to be putting on fifteen layers of a dress and a corset and having her hair teased to look like it hasn’t been brushed in days. At least her makeup is relatively normal.

If smearing mascara down her cheeks and powdering her face to make her look paler than usual is normal.

At least they’re not doing her hair or her makeup today. Just this dumb costume.

Leaving the trailer where the costumes are kept, Emma makes her way outside as a gust of chilled air moves over her, causing goosebumps to immediately rise on the exposed parts of her skin. At least her legs won’t be cold with all of their layers. The rest of her might just freeze to death, however.

It’s only September right now, but from experience Emma knows just how miserable October nights are when not wrapped up in coats and scarves and the warmest knit cap that Emma owns. With how things are now, she knows that this year is going to be even more miserable.

Sucking it up, Emma kicks her leg forward to give herself more space to move, and she follows the pathway in the woods down to get down to the pier. The leaves have already started to change colors, most of them beginning to fall to the ground, and they crunch underneath her feet as she follows the familiar path. There are men up in the trees setting up rigging and hanging props, and she spots Jeff hooking up the speaker system that plays throughout the grounds for music and in rare cases, emergency announcements. Emma has only heard of children getting separated from their parents in her time here, but she does know that there was once an issue with a chainsaw and someone’s foot.

That’s why everyone has to sign waivers now – employees and customers alike.

Welcome to Storybrooke Haunted Farms: The Scariest Place in Maine.

Emma’s been working here for the past four years. It’s a seasonal job, only half of September for training and costume fittings and the month of October for actual work, but it pays better than being a waitress at Granny’s does all year. It’s a great atmosphere working there, but the tips are not great unless she gets one of the good shifts. She needs more money than she’s getting, and scaring the shit out of people isn’t a bad gig.

Well, it wasn’t when she was hopping up onto a moving trailer full of hay and people and frightening the people who were screaming the loudest as well as those who were quietly shaking in fear. The haunted hayride through the woods is by far the least terrifying attraction that they have here, but it’s definitely the most fun for employees to work. Then again, Emma loved working in the corn mazes where people paid her to chase after them with a chainsaw (fake) or in the set that was made to look like an abandoned hospital wing. Though, in that last one she had to wear one of those awful slutty nurse’s costumes, and heels, and that was difficult to move around in as well.

Not like this costume though.

She keeps having to kick her legs to not trip over the stone pathway as the thatch of trees thins out and the ocean comes into view, salt thickening in the air and the sun shining a little brighter down onto her skin. And there, in all of its glory, is a massive ship with tall white sails that are currently being sliced up and painted to look battered as fake moss is added to the sides of the dark wood. None of this will be noticed in the dark, of course, but Regina is nothing if not excessive in her decorations. Anything to make more money when she doesn’t exactly need it.

At least she never shows up to the actual site. That would be more of a nightmare than any of the attractions.

(It’s also how she’s going to get out of having to wear this costume every day.)

“Emma,” a voice calls out, and she twists around to look at Graham Humbert standing with several planks of wood over his shoulder like that’s not big deal.

“Hey,” she greets, not really stepping closer for fear of getting accidentally knocked out. “What do they have you building today?”

“The bridge to the ship. She’s a beauty, don’t you think? Are you working on her this year?”

“What gave it away?” Emma reaches down to grab at the sides of her skirts, picking them up before letting them fall down with enough power that leaves scatter beneath her. “I don’t exactly know my role yet, but they’ve got me in this costume for it. I wish we could do dress rehearsals in normal clothes.”

His eyes flicker up and down her body, and instinctively, she wants to reach up to cover her chest. However, she knows that will just make her boobs looks bigger, and as nice as Graham is, she’s simply not as interested in dating him as he is with her. He’s more of a friend to her than anything, and he’s a really good influence in Henry’s life. If she were to date him, she’d just fuck things up and make him no longer want to spend time with Henry. That’s what happens every time she gets involved with anyone.

“Authenticity, I believe,” Graham finally says back, his eyes landing on her face. “I think it’ll be a fun attraction to work. I’ll have to come by and check it out once you guys open.”

“Is the Sheriff really supposed to pay to be scared by other people?”

“It’s a fun time. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t come here at least once a year.”

“Well,” Emma starts, already the slightest bit uncomfortable with the way that Graham is swaying closer to her with the wood, “thank you for your contribution that goes toward my son’s Christmas gifts. I’ve got to go to rehearsals now. Make sure that this bridge is steady so I’m not falling into the ocean, okay?”

Graham salutes her before she’s stepping away from him and heading down to the docks, nearly tripping over her dress and the uneven ground. If this continues, she’s going to the costume department and getting a pair of pants to work in. Pants would definitely be better than this.

People are already milling around down here, most of them in tattered pirate costumes with cups of Starbucks in their hand, and while she recognizes a few of them, most are new to her and must not frequent Granny’s too often or only come during Ruby’s shifts at night so that Emma would have never run into them. She recognizes Will Scarlet, though, and she waves to him before turning to take a shaky step up onto the ship where she comes face to face with a man dressed in all black leather with a red vest that’s nearly unbuttoned all the way to his navel.

What in the world?

Emma trips again on a piece of loose board before catching herself and looking up past the dark chest hair and skull and bones silver charms only to a stubble-covered jaw that belongs to a man with some of the bluest eyes that she’s ever seen. He must have gone through makeup today because his eyes are lined with black eyeliner and his hair is messily coiffed, and Emma feels the slightest bit of fire stir in her belly that she immediately tampers down.

Who the hell is that?

“You okay there, lass?”

Emma almost stumbles again at the deep timber of his voice, and she is definitely asking if she can get an alternate costume that includes pants. This is ridiculous.

“I’m fine,” she huffs, brushing her hands against her skirts and turning away from him. “It’s this damn costume. I’m so uncomfortable.”

“Your discomfort is a cross I’m willing to bear”

“Ha,” Emma scoffs as her eyes roll and her mind immediately decides that she hates this guy. Who is he to try to joke around and compliment her? She doesn’t even know him. “You’re hysterical. Is the abundant amount of cleavage you have showing your choice or the company’s?”

“A combination of both.” He uncrosses his arms and his legs and steps forward so that he’s back in her space. A chill runs down her spine as the ship rocks beneath them. “I’m not particularly modest.”

“I assumed.” “What about you, love?”

“Not your love, and what about me?”

“Is the amount of cleavage your choice?”

Emma curls her hands into fists and turns to look at this obnoxious man who is way too comfortable with her, and the smirk on his lips does nothing to lessen the hatred that’s simmering beneath her skin. “It is obviously not my choice.”

“It’s a pity nothing can be done about that.” He sticks his hand out in front of her, and she almost laughs before she realizes that he’s serious. Begrudgingly, she reaches forward and takes his hand in hers. “Killian Jones.”

“Emma Swan.”

“Swan,” he repeats back, his tongue visibly running behind the back of his teeth. Is it possible to hate someone so much within one-hundred and twenty seconds of meeting them? “I like it.”

“Oh, well, if you like it, I guess I’ll have to keep it forever, won’t I?”

Killian winks, and she imagines him having to wear a corset so tight that he can’t breathe too. It’s a weird form of torture, but it’s all she can focus on right now. Obviously the blood can’t reach her brain right now, and there’s only so long she can live like this.

She’s got at least six weeks.

Shit.

Emma opens her mouth to say something, most likely to tell him to go screw himself but in less friendly terms, but then there’s a loud clap from across the deck where David is standing on top of a barrel with a clipboard in hand. He was made to be a detective and a cruise director all at once. Emma doesn’t think that he married Mary Margaret simply so that he could be a part of the Blanchard-Mills Storybrooke Haunted Farms legacy, but she wouldn’t be surprised if it was part of the initial appeal.

Holidays are kind of a big deal in this town, and being in love with them is pretty much a requirement for living here. If they (whoever they are) find out that you don’t buy flowers for Valentine’s Day or candy for Halloween, they have the power to kick you out.

Probably not, but Emma has heard rumors. This is the best place she’s ever lived, and she’s not really a big fan of the thought of having to leave. Henry wouldn’t be either. He’s too in love with Ruby for him to want to leave.

“Okay,” David starts, his voice louder than the sound of a hammer hitting against wood and a saw cutting down the beams for the bridge between the docks and the ship. “So welcome aboard the Storybrooke Haunted Farms team. We’re excited to have you here, whether or not you’re new or have worked for us before, and my wife and I want you all to remember that while we want you to scare the ever-loving shit out of people, we also want you to have fun. But also to be safe. If you haven’t signed a waiver, please see Belle to my right to sign your forms.”

People shuffle across the dock over to Belle, and she begins handing out papers as Emma shifts her weight to one side, trying to put as much distance between she and Killian Jones as possible. He’s got to be one of those obnoxious people who thinks his looks can excuse his actions, and she is not here for that. But she’s also not here for causing issues at work before it even really starts, so she doesn’t want to make it too obvious that she’s moving away from him.

“So, this our newest attraction,” David continues with his arm outstretched to show off the ship, “and you guys are going to be our guinea pigs, so please bear with us on any issues or problems running it. We’re counting on you guys to notice problems and report them, so if you see a way we need to improve, don’t be scared to ask. Only our customers are supposed to be scared around here.”

There’s an awkward laugh that emits from everyone. It’s really a shame that David isn’t a dad yet because he’s already got the jokes down.

“Now, after all of our waivers are signed, Belle and I are going to hand out your roles before we start practice out here. We’ve got two weeks before opening, and while that’s not a lot of time, I know that you’ll all get the hang of things.”

“The Nolans are quite the optimistic bunch, aren’t they?” Killian questions, his breath hot as he leans into her ear. She jumps away, this time visibly putting space between them, and if someone doesn’t smack the smirk off his face before the end of October, Emma is doing it the day she gets her final paycheck.

“How do you know the Nolans?”

“Dave went to the Police Academy with my older brother.”

Great. That means Killian is here as some kind of friend to David, and Emma is going to have to be nice to him. This feels a hell of a lot like when she tells Henry to be nice to his classmates even when half of them are six-year-old devils.

She’s a really good mom, obviously.

“How do you know them, love?”

“Not your love,” Emma repeats as she steps away from him and moves to where Belle and David are handing out paperwork. “And they’re pretty popular in the town. Everyone knows them.”

“Well, I’m new to town, so I guess I’ll have to get used everyone who is popular  in town.”

“Okay.”

At that, she tries to dodge out of his way, but that’s a bit difficult when it’s a small area crowded with dozens of people all headed into the same direction, so he’s constantly at her heels. At least he’s not talking any longer, but it’s almost like there’s this overwhelming presence following her around, like he’s peering over her shoulder and waiting for her to slip up or fall into the charms that he very obviously thinks that he has.

“Emma,” David smiles when she walks up to him. The annoyance she’s felt from Killian fades away, if only for fifteen seconds, at the sound of a familiar voice who isn’t going to annoy her or try to flirt with her. “Your costume looks fantastic.”

“You know, that’s what I said, mate, but she didn’t seem to like my compliment too much.”

David’s eyes glance at her before fliting behind her to look at Killian, and from the smile that’s still on his face, Emma can tell that he does, indeed, know Killian Jones.

Of course.

“Do you two know each other?” David asks.

“No,” Emma blurts out.

“We just met a few minutes ago,” Killian explains as he bumps his shoulder into hers like they’re old pals. “I think we might be fast friends, me and Swan.”

Emma can’t hold back her scoff, even when David’s eyes slant at her. “Yeah,” Emma sighs as her hand moves behind her to slap Killian’s back, “fast friends. That’s exactly how I would describe the two of us.”

Her stomach drops, which really doesn’t help anything when the corners of David’s lips turn up and stretch all the way up to his eyes.

“That’s actually perfect.”

“And why’s that?”

-/-

“He has me playing some kind of damsel in distress,” Emma huffs out as she paces back and forth in the kitchen of her apartment, a glass of wine in her hand that she really wishes had more alcohol in it. “I mean, it’s not technically a damsel in distress, but it pretty much is. I have to work with this jackass who thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips with his pirate costume and deep accent and the way that he swaggers across the deck, and the two of us have to act like some kind of old-timey couple on the bow of the ship pretending that we’re in love and having a fight to distract everyone from the people sneaking up behind them before he’s pushing me off the side of the boat.”

“What’s a jackass?” Henry asks her from his seat on the couch in the living room, and Emma immediately reaches her free hand up to cover her mouth.

“I shouldn’t have said that, kid,” Emma apologizes, flashing him a smile as Ruby snickers from her spot sitting on the counter. “That’s not a word we use. I’m sorry.”

Henry shrugs his shoulders and goes back to watching his Ninja Turtles Show. There’s no reason she should have such a good kid, but the universe obviously decided that she needed some kind of good luck.

By far the best thing ever to happen to her even if the circumstances of her pregnancy sucked.

“Is it really that bad, though?” Emma’s head snaps back over to Ruby to see her tossing a piece of popcorn into her mouth. “Like, I saw this guy when he got into town. He’s apparently moving here and staying at Granny’s until he gets an apartment. He’s not a bad looking guy, Ems. In fact, I would say that he’s attractive. How bad can it be to be paid to flirt with him while he’s wearing all kinds of leather and eyeliner and looking sinful?”

“I am hooked up to a rigging system and get thrown off the side of the boat.”

“Okay, granted, that part is bad, but it’s not all bad. You literally used to have to run for hours a night with a chainsaw to scare people. This is much better.”

“I don’t think you understand how bad this guy is.”

Ruby arches a perfectly manicured brow and tilts her wine glass to her lips. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“I usually don’t.”

Ruby’s eyes look over to Henry, and that’s when Emma knows that she really  doesn’t want to hear what Ruby is going to say. “Henry is how old? Six?”

“Mhm.”

“And you’re twenty-four, correct?”

“Yep.”

“And you’ve had one boyfriend since he was born, right?”

“It’s been more than one.”

Ruby holds up her hand and bends one finger back before pointing that one finger at her chin. “Walsh Osbourne is the only one I can think of. Would you like to enlighten me as to who the others are?”

“I have been on dates with men other than,” Emma makes sure to lower her voice so that Henry can’t hear, “Walsh, but I haven’t introduced any of them to Henry after him. I can’t take the risk that Henry is going to get attached.”

“Which is exactly why you won’t date Graham.”

Emma’s cheeks flame up. She really needs more wine, but she’s working the early shift at Granny’s tomorrow and still has to go to practice tomorrow night. “I don’t want to date Graham. He’s a nice guy, but I’m just not in the mood for dating. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I literally spend most of my day working multiple jobs. When I’m not working, I’m taking care of my kid. That’s what happens when you get knocked up at seventeen and have literally no resources.”

Ruby raises her hands in the air, an apology already on her lips, but then the volume mutes on the television and Henry is moving over to them in the kitchen, his mop of brown hair messily situated on top of his head as he opens up the fridge.

“What are you looking for, kid? I’m pretty sure you ate dinner at Granny’s with Ruby.”

“Yeah, but I’m thirsty, and water just isn’t cutting it.” He turns to smile at her then, and Emma’s heart aches over how much he looks like Neal. Couldn’t he at least have gotten a little bit of her in him? Would that have been too much to ask? “Can I have orange juice?”

“No,” Emma says as she steps over him and grabs the gallon of milk from the shelf and turns around to place it on the kitchen countertop while Ruby hands her a glass from the cabinet. “There’s too much sugar in orange juice for you to have it this late at night.”

“But it’s Friday, Mom.” “And?”

“I don’t have school in the morning.”

“Yeah,” she smiles as she pours him a small glass of milk, “I know. You’re spending the day with Mary Margaret and David tomorrow while I’m at work, and I can almost guarantee that one of them will give you all kinds of sugar so that you never go to bed ever again.”

His lips stretch into a smile so large that Emma can see them under the clear plastic glass. “That would be the coolest thing ever. Can I wear my Ninja Turtles costume tomorrow?”

“Now, that, is something I can agree to.”

Henry nods his head and walks back to the couch, and Emma smiles to herself before turning back to look at Ruby who is sipping her wine. Emma wonders if maybe just maybe she’ll have forgotten the conversation they were having, but that’s unlikely.

“Hot pirate dude makes you all tingly inside, and you’re nervous that you’re going to act on it.”

Yep. Ruby isn’t going to let this go.

“That is not true. I am not going to sleep with him.”

“Whatever you say. I think he’d be a good one to bang one out with so you can release some of the tension in your shoulders.”

“I’m going to kick you out.”

“No, you’re not,” Ruby sighs as she gets down from the counter. “You and Henry love me too much to do that. Isn’t that right, kid?”

Henry doesn’t say anything, too furiously blushing at having Ruby talk to him to form words. Poor kid has it bad.

-/-

The morning shift at Granny’s on Saturday is as hectic as ever, none of the tables ever emptying out and nearly every single person being annoyed until they get their coffee, and if Emma didn’t like the tips that came with working one of the busiest times of the week, she’d request another time. One day she’s going to have to find another job, garner some skill set that will actually give her normal pay and normal hours, but she hasn’t exactly figured that out yet.

Thankfully, cost of living in Storybrooke is not high.

Being a waitress still sucks sometimes, though. She has enough of cleaning up after other people at home, and if one more person tells her to smile when she’s cleaning a table where their kid spilled syrup, she will lose it.

And then probably lose her job.

But she does finish work around two with a little bit more cash in her pocket, and that’s all that really matters. That’s also all that matters as she drives her yellow bug across town to Storybrooke Haunted Farms so that she can get into costume and go to practice.

(Mary Margaret agreed to letting Emma buy a costume with pants for some of the nights, and she’s never been so excited over such a little thing.)

The grounds are pretty much empty when she gets there, and it’s weirdly peaceful that way. It’s a beautiful place, almost completely out in nature, and if it wasn’t for the fact that someone is driving around in a golf cart with a pile of fake dead bodied behind them, Emma could forget that this is all one big Halloween event.

Mary Margaret said that she was down by the docks with Henry supervising the continuing construction on their pirate ship, so Emma heads down that way, not bothering to change out of her uniform quite yet. She just tugs her red leather jacket a little more tightly around her as the air gets a little bit cooler the closer she gets to the ocean.

Emma sees Mary Margaret first. She’s sitting in a golf cart, the red one she always drives, but there’s no Henry. If Emma didn’t know that Mary Margaret was one of the most responsible people on the planet, she’d take off running looking for her kid, but there’s no way that Mary Margaret has lost him.

“Hey,” Emma greets as she slides into the seat next to her and catches a glimpse of Mary Margaret’s text to David, “where’s my kid?”

“Killian is giving him a tour of the ship.”

Emma blanches, and it takes everything in her not to run down to the docks and pull Henry out of there. Why the hell would Mary Margaret pass him off to a stranger?

“You just let my son go hang out with a stranger? That seems safe.”

Mary Margaret looks over to her with a shake of a head. “Killian is not a stranger, Emma. We’ve known him for years. Plus, you know him. He’s your scene partner.”

“I’ve known him for less than a week. I don’t send my six-year-old off with people I’ve known for a week.”

Mary Margaret clicks her tongue, and Emma scoffs before crossing her arms over her chest. What is this guy’s deal?

“Killian is a nice guy, maybe a little rough around the edges, but Henry saw him walking around in his pirate costume and lost his mind and begged to go talk to him. Killian played along with it, acting like he really was a pirate, and Henry asked him if he could show him the ship. It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“The big deal is that the guy is a flirtatious ass, and he didn’t need to know that I had a kid.”

Mary Margaret’s lips part, but she never gets to say anything. “Mom,” Henry yells out as he runs toward the two of them at what she knows is his fastest speed, “Mom, Mom, Mom.”

“What?” Emma laughs, willing away all of her negative emotions to put a smile on her face as Henry gets closer to her, Killian unfortunately following right behind him. “You’re going to be out of breath if you keep running that fast.”

Henry keeps running until he comes to a skidding stop right in front of the golf cart. His cheeks are red and his chest is heaving, but there’s an undeniable joy in those brown eyes of his. As annoyed as she is that Mary Margaret sent him off with a guy who she doesn’t like, at least he’s happy.

“Mom, I have had the best day. I got to eat pancakes with David and then they let me go up into the treehouse and then I met Killian and he gave me a tour of the pirate ship. Is it true that you get to work with him on it? Really? Do you get to be a pirate? I want to be a pirate! Can I be a pirate for Halloween?”

“Woah,” Emma laughs as she pulls Henry up onto the cart so that he can sit in her lap as she pushes some of his hair back, “slow down and take a deep breath. Not even the Flash goes this fast.”

“I want to be a pirate for Halloween,” Henry says a bit more slowly, his words still coming out the slightest bit stilted, “because pirates wear cool clothes and have swords and get to talk all funny sometimes. And they hunt for buried treasure. Do you think there’s buried treasure here?”

“I – ”

“There might be,” Killian adds in, and Emma is going to bite off her tongue and fill her entire mouth with blood to keep from spewing every word she’s told Henry that he can’t say out at Killian. “I think we’d have to find a treasure map to know for sure.”

Mary Margaret gasps next to Emma, and she quickly turns to the side to look at her.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, seriously. What? You don’t get to just gasp like that and then not tell me what’s going on.”

“I will tell you later when we aren’t around so many people, but I have an idea for an activity.”

Emma narrows her eyes, but Mary Margaret doesn’t pay any attention to her, immediately pulling her phone back out and typing something in that Emma can’t see because Mary Margaret turned the brightness down.

“Or,” Henry suggests to Killian, obviously still stuck on this whole treasure map thing, “we could use those things that old men use on the beach to find money.”

“We could, lad, but do you know where we’d get one?”

“Probably from an old man.”

Emma squeezes Henry a little tighter and buries her face in his hair to try to stop laughing. He needs a shower, but that’s going to have to wait until after her practice.

“Henry,” she begins, “why don’t you and Mary Margaret go check out what else is going on around here while I go to practice? I’ll come get you when I’m finished, and then we’ll go to dinner, yeah? I’m thinking grilled cheese.”

His eyes light up with his smile, and Emma’s heart pangs the slightest bit. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” She leans down to kiss his cheek over and over again until he’s a giggling mess. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It takes a few minutes before Mary Margaret and Henry drive off, and then she’s left alone with Killian as he kicks his heel into the ground and digs up a bit of dirt and sand. He’s in his costume today, the same one as before, but this time a long black duster has been added. If it’s anything like her dress, Emma knows that it has to be heavy, but he doesn’t seem to have any problem moving around in it. And she swears that even more buttons are undone on his shirt so that she can see more of his stomach and the hair that seems to go all the way down.

Who even is this guy?

“That’s a nice kid you’ve got there, Swan,” he tells her. She nearly jumps at the sound of his voice, and Emma realizes that she let her defenses down, if only for a moment.

She shouldn’t have.

“I tend to think so, and no, I’m not biased at all.”

Killian flashes a smile, and her stomach flips without her permission. “I think so without any bias. He was so curious about everything. It was great. I think I’ve turned him into a pirate yet.”

Emma’s lips curve up before she remembers who she’s talking to. It’s so easy for her to forget things when someone is gushing about Henry – she likes to think she isn’t a total screw-up when it comes to him – and she doesn’t need to be doing that, especially not around this guy.

“Look,” Emma starts as she crosses her arms over her chest, “thank you for spending time with Henry today. That was really nice of you, but I’m not going to suddenly fall into your arms because you know how to charm a kid. And I don’t want you thinking that I’ll date you if you’re nice to Henry. That’s not how this works, so if you’re using him to get to me, you can stop.”

His brows furrow together, two dark black patches of hair nearly forming into one, and the smile that was on his lips curves downward into a scowl as his shoulders straighten up to make him taller than she knows that he is. “You may not believe me, love, but I had no intention of using your kid to get in your pants. Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

And at that, he turns around and walks away, his coat swirling behind him, while Emma is left standing there wondering what the hell just happened.

-/-

For the next two weeks, Emma splits her time between waitressing, spending time with Henry, doing final run-throughs for Storybrooke Haunted Farms, and very occasionally sleeping. It’s hectic. Honestly, she might be delusional and imagining some of the things that have happened, but she’s going to chalk that up to lack of sleep and extreme physical activity. Her feet probably don’t fit in anything other than her sneakers because they’re so swollen from her standing for about eighteen hours a day.

It’s a lot.

But it’s also her favorite time of the year.

The temperatures have officially dipped to the point where she can wear jeans and a thick sweater every day while sipping on hot chocolate, and all of the leaves have changed colors so that everything just feels like fall. It’s the best time of the year, and Emma will not change her position on that.

Except, well, the fact that working at the Haunted Farm is an actual nightmare for her this year.

(They do, however, have a new kid’s attraction that’s a treasure hunt and not at all scary, and Emma is thankful that Mary Margaret got the idea and executed it so that Henry has somewhere to stay for a little while before Granny picks him up and takes him home to go to sleep.)

It’s going smoothly, relatively speaking. She’s got her routine down, even the part where she falls off the ship and suspends in the air while a speaker plays a splashing sound as fake thunder roars above them, and she’s got all of her scenes with Killian memorized to the point where she doesn’t jump when someone screams anymore….but it’s all like torture.

Emma has always prided herself over not caring too much about people she’s not close to so that she can save that emotional energy for something more important, but something about Killian Jones makes her feel horrible for pretty much being a bitch to him all the time. He is most definitely still this conceited, self-centered, far too flirtatious guy, but he is also the first person to help someone out when they get too freaked out by the jump scares, the guy who will bring people coffee (even her), and he never fails to make Henry smile even though Emma’s pretty sure that she scared Killian more than she has scared any of the people who pay to come to the Haunted Farms.

She hates it.

She hates that he’s probably a good person who wasn’t actually using Henry to get into her pants. That’s not something she’s totally decided on, but she feels a little more guilt every single time he opens his mouth to say something, takes one look at her, and then either turns away or makes some kind of innuendo that causes her cheeks to flame up.

Nothing about Killian Jones makes any sense, and for some reason her mind wants her to care about him.

It’s the law of proximity or something. That has to be it. They’re spending over half of their day together, every day, and it’s some kind of biological reaction to be tricked into wanting to know the other person so that things aren’t awkward.

Emma would honestly rather things just be awkward.

At least right now they’re in the middle of a shift, and there’s not exactly time to make awkward small talk. Instead, she’s sitting on a wooden barrel in the corner waiting for a new set of customers to walk across the bridge so that they can get this show on the road.

Or on the sea. It’s whatever.

The music starts playing over the speakers that are attached to the ship, and Emma slowly stands from the barrel, smoothing out her skirt and rubbing her hands over her arms to try to get the chill bumps to go away. It’s a little past ten o’clock, the sun having set several hours ago, and the only real light is coming from the way that the moon reflects off of the ocean. They’ve got these smoke machines out here to make everything look a little hazier, but it’s really not needed. It’s already hard to see a damn thing.

Killian follows right behind her, his duster hitting against her back, and she’s the slightest bit jealous that he gets to wear a coat. It’s under forty degrees out here right now, the ocean not helping that at all, and Emma is never going to be warm again.

“You ready to do this again?” she asks Killian.

“Aye,” he whispers back. “You know, I don’t mean to upset you Emma, but I think we make quite the team.”

A chuckle escapes from her without her permission, but she quickly corrects it and gets into position so that she and Killian can begin their fake fight.

Getting paid to fight with an (kind of) asshole? Quite possibly the greatest job she’s ever had.

They start their back and forth as people move closer to them, their eyes wide as they take in the ship from a new perspective, but Emma makes sure that her eyes only stay focused on Killian as he glowers above her with his hands resting on the buckle of his belt.

“But you said you loved me,” Emma screams out, pushing her hands against Killian’s chest.

“I’m a pirate, darling,” he seethes, stepping into her space and dipping his head down so that they are eye-to-eye. “I don��t love, especially when it comes to a bar wench like you. You’re more entertainment than anything else.”

Emma pushes back at him as she steps backward, moving closer and closer to the edge of the ship while Killian crowds her in, still spitting words at her to keep everyone entertained. Emma feels her harness tighten, the technician obviously preparing to fling her off of the ship now, and Emma sucks in a deep breath in preparation.

She is not working this attraction next year.

“It’s a pity that you thought I loved you, truly. I think you would have been nice to keep around.”

Her heart quickens at the sound of Killian’s words, the ones that are the final warning sound before she’s flung off of the ship, and then she’s being pulled back and suspended into the air, the harness tightening around her chest as the fake thunder rolls over the speakers and the audience gasps. They’re about to be scared shitless too. They just don’t know that part yet.

And then there’s a snap.

And Emma’s falling.

It’s quick, really. She doesn’t have time to think or do anything, not that there would be anything for her to do, before every last breath is being shocked out of her as sharp icicles poke around her and everything goes black.

The water is freezing around her, and her lungs are like bricks inside of her, the heaviness of her dress weighing her down, and even though Emma knows that she needs to swim to the surface, the shock of it all is making it a little difficult. She can’t see or breathe or even think, and her legs are simply kicking while her arms are flailing in search of something, anything.

She is not going to drown in the ocean wearing some kind of medieval dress.

She is not going to leave Henry this way.

Henry.

Oh shit. That seems to knock a bit more sense into her, or at least some kind of panic, and her arms are even more frantic as she’s moves through the icy water, just trying to find air.

She needs air.

Suddenly, Emma feels hands on her arms, and there’s actual movement happening, her body feeling it as she moves in what direction she thinks is up, and then for the first time in what feels like hours, she can breathe.

And she can see.

“Swan,” a voice gasps out, and she blinks away the salty water to see Killian’s face directly in front of hers, his hair matted down against his forehead. “Swan? Are you okay? Emma? Emma, are you alright, love?”

“Cold,” she manages to gasp out, and he nods his head in response before they’re moving again.

Emma’s senses are beginning to come back, but her head is still foggy. One moment she’s drowning in the darkness and the next she’s being pulled onto soft sand, her clothes feeling too heavy for her body to hold up. There are so many noises, voices and screams and the damn music still playing over the speakers, and Emma can’t focus on any of it. It’s too much stimuli, too many distractions, and she barely even notices the fact that Killian rips off a few layers of her dress before hoisting her into his arms while murmuring words she can’t quite pick up or understand.

What is happening?

“Emma,” Killian repeats, and all the sudden she looks around and she’s inside of one of the offices near the front of the farms. “Emma, I really need you to look at me, okay?”

She blinks a few more times before turning away from looking at the office to looking at Killian. His eyes are so blue. How is that possible?

“Do you think you can strip out of these clothes yourself? Or do you need help? I can do it or we can wait for Mary Margaret to get here. She’s on her way.”

Those words snap Emma back into reality, and she can feel absolutely…everything. Her lungs are burning, her skin is like ice, and it hurts to breathe right now. She probably hasn’t stopped shivering in hours.

“I need…you’ve got to undo the corset, and then I can do it.”

Killian nods his head before walking around her, his fingers quickly undoing the corset until it’s no longer constricting her chest, and that makes her breathe the slightest bit more easily. When he’s finished, he tells her to undress and change into the clothes that are sitting on the chair in front of her while telling her that he’s going to step into the other room to do the same.

Why does Killian have to do the same?

Oh, right, because he was in the water with her. He pulled her out of it.

Laughter bubbles up within her belly, warming her, while she sheds the last of the wet clothes and picks up a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that have Storybrooke Haunted Farms written across them in this awful orange color. But it’s either freeze to death naked or put them on, so she puts them on with still shivering limbs and laughter still escaping her lips.

Her harness broke, and she fell into the freezing cold ocean.

Holy shit.

“Swan?” Killian asks as he steps back into the room wearing the same awful clothing that she’s wearing. “Why are you laughing?”

“Did I,” she starts, unable to finish. “Did I…did I…did I fall into the fucking ocean and have to be rescued while working at a fake haunted ship? Is that a real thing that just happened to me?”

“Aye,” he says a bit hesitantly before picking up a blanket and wrapping it around her while his hands rub up and down her shoulders. Holy shit that feels good. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Emma laughs, leaning forward to bury her face in Killian’s shoulder. He’s warm. How is he warm? He was in the water too. She knows that she didn’t hallucinate that. It was real. “No, I’m not okay. What even is happening? This is ridiculous, and I’m still not convinced that I’m not going to roll over in bed and wake up to find Henry having poured a bucket of ice down my back or something like that.”

Killian’s chest moves beneath hers, and she feels his hand shift from her arm to her back, quickly moving up and down over the blanket. It feels so good and warm, and she might stay like this forever.

“Is that something the lad would do?”

“No, not at all. He’s too good for that. It’s something I did as a kid, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, I hated my foster dad one time, and he refused to turn the heat up to make it warmer in the rest of the house, so I poured a bucket of ice on his bed. I got reassigned to a different house two days later, but let me tell you, it was worth it.”

Killian laughs again, and she feels it underneath her cheek. “That sounds exactly like something you would do. My brother used to pull shit like that, too, to our dad. He was always getting onto me for misbehaving, but then he’d cut holes in the crotch of Dad’s trousers.”

“This the brother that went to the Police Academy with David?”

“One and the same.”

“Where does he live now? Is he moving here too?”

Killian’s hand stills against her back, just for a brief moment, before starting up again as Emma nuzzles her nose a little further into his t-shirt that smells like detergent. Later, Emma knows that she’ll regret holding onto him like this, but right now, all she cares about is the fact that she’s finally starting to feel warm.

“Liam was killed in the line of duty two years ago, so I don’t think he’ll be moving from his plot in Boston.”

Emotion burns in Emma’s throat, weighed down by everything else that’s happened tonight, and someone should probably take her to the hospital for lack of airflow. This can’t be healthy. “I’m sorry, Killian.”

“Don’t be. ‘Tis not your fault. It is why I moved here, though. Believe it or not, it wasn’t to push you off of a ship while people are chased around by zombies wielding paintball guns. It was somewhere with a familiar face without having to move back to England, where I haven’t actually lived since I was a teenager.”

Emma huffs into Killian’s neck before wrapping her arms around his waist and rubbing up and down his back in the same way that he’s doing now. She doesn’t like to think that she needs saving, and she usually doesn’t…but tonight she did, and the least she can do is help to warm him up in the same way that he’s doing to her.

“I moved from Boston too, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “That’s where…I met Henry’s dad the summer before my senior year of high school. He was older, cooler, you know? And I found out I was pregnant halfway through that year. It was…” She stops, not really wanting to get into all of it with this man she doesn’t really know as well as not wanting to relieve it for herself. “It wasn’t a good time, pretty much, and I needed someplace new. This town has pretty much been the only thing that’s kept me on my feet.”

“Technically, it knocked you right off of them tonight.”

It’s the perfect time to make a joke. Honestly and truly it is because Emma could already feel herself pulling away and becoming uncomfortable with where this conversation was heading. She doesn’t just tell people about Neal or being in foster homes or any of it, and here she is letting it all out to a man she told herself not to get close to.

It’s also the exact moment that Mary Margaret walks in followed by David, and she and Killian spring apart so that they’re no longer standing together. Mary Margaret worries over the two of them, talking far faster than usual and giving them both jackets and more blankets along with socks, all of them from the merchandising table, before David hands them cups of hot chocolate, which may be the best hot chocolate that Emma has ever had.

That’s saying a lot considering how Emma is with her hot chocolate.

Things are overwhelming and wild as David explains the mechanics behind her harness snapping, and as quickly as David and Mary Margaret come in to check on the two of them, they’re having to leave to go check on the crises that are happening around town, and she’s left sitting in an office, still shivering the slightest bit, wondering where the hell does she go from here.

The answer to that question is apparently nowhere. She and Killian get sent home that night with instructions to come back in the morning for new assignments and to fill out some paperwork over the incident. They’re having to alter the performance that happens down at the ship, apparently, and while Emma expects to simply have her role slightly change, she ends up getting assigned to the hayride path with Killian. It’s a little sad to have to do this halfway through the month, but at least now she can wear jeans and flannel and hide her hair under a terrifying mask instead of having to have it teased every day.

And she won’t be falling into icy cold waters either. That’s definitely a plus.

Killian takes to scaring people on the hayride like a champ. He easily manages to jump up onto the trailer, oftentimes without anyone noticing, before screaming bloody murder and making everyone else do the same. One time, he manages to sit down between two couples without them noticing because they’re too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats, and the way they jump when Killian claps his hands together makes Emma jump off of the trailer and stumble back into the woods so that she can laugh without breaking character.

What she would give to have their faces on camera.

Things…shift in a way once they start working on the hayride instead of the ship. Emma had seen Killian’s good side before, had acknowledged it if even only to herself, but she still rejected it in a way. She didn’t want to see him as anything other than a cocky asshole who was using being nice to Henry to get into her pants, so Emma didn’t let her perception of him change.

Not until now.

Killian’s still a cocky asshole, but Emma’s starting to understand that the innuendos and his flirting might be a defense system. There’s something underneath the smirks and moving eyebrows, and while Emma doesn’t necessarily want to find out what it all is, she wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.

And he really is good with Henry, which Emma actually appreciates.

Apparently, when Killian isn’t scaring people for money, he works at Henry’s school as a receptionist for the front office as some kind of temp job, something no one seemed to deem important enough to tell her. Emma only found out when she called up to check Henry out to take him to a dentist appointment and she heard a familiar voice on the phone.

And now, somehow, he’s sitting across from her on a park picnic table as Henry climbs up and down the playground, his movement only slightly stilted by the giant puffer jacket that Emma has on him. She has no idea how Killian was out here running with only a thin pullover on.

“So, is he still going to be a pirate for Halloween tomorrow, or has that changed now that his mum has gotten pushed off a pirate ship and shunned to the hayride? I guess he could be a scarecrow, but I’m pretty sure six-year-olds aren’t into that.”

“No,” Emma sighs as Killian moves across the monkey bars and Emma braces herself for disaster, “I don’t think he would be. He’s got the pirate costume and still wants to do that. I’ve had to keep him from wearing it around the house so that he doesn’t mess it up before tomorrow.”

Killian raises his brow. “How exactly are you going to take him trick or treating when we have work? Isn’t that something that happens once the sun has set?”

“He’s six. we go in the middle of the afternoon, and then I drop him off to stay with Granny for the night. It’s not the best situation, but it’s what works for us.”

“You’re a good mum, Swan.” Emma feels hear rise in her cheeks, and she reaches up to brush her hair behind her ears. “With a good kid.”

“Yeah, he is pretty great, isn’t he?”

“Mom,” Henry shouts as he jumps down from the playground and runs toward the two of them, his cheeks flushed and hair pushed back off of his forehead, “I have an idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

He nods his head, bright smile on his face, before stepping closer to her and cupping his hands around his mouth up against her ears. “Killian should come trick or treating with us tomorrow, and you can give him some candy to tell him that you like him.”

Emma nearly falls off the bench, and her heart takes off like a freaking rocket. For one, Henry just said that loud enough for everyone in Storybrooke to hear, but mostly, he just said that so that Killian could hear.

But also, why in the world does Henry think that she likes Killian? Where the hell did he get that idea.

Hesitantly, Emma looks over to Killian to see that he’s on his phone, very obviously faking texting someone, and as much as she appreciates it, there’s no getting around the fact that he heard Henry say that she likes him.

Which she doesn’t.

Not at all.

That would be ridiculous. And dumb. And a horrible, horrible idea.

But he is a very pretty man on, like, a vain level, and Emma will admit that she can sometimes be a little bit into vanity. And he is good at banter and flirting and making her laugh and causing a smile to curl onto her lips. Maybe, just maybe, there might be butterflies the flutter around in her stomach, but Emma has very adamantly been chalking that up to the fact that her eating hasn’t been the most healthy lately.

No, she doesn’t like him. That’s not a thing that happens.

Except maybe it is because she does get excited to go to work, possibly a little bit more than usual, and there are times when she purposefully makes sure that she inches a little bit closer to him so that they have to talk.

Oh shit, her six-year-old just had an emotional revelation for her, and she doesn’t know how to feel about it.

Feelings are not her strong suit.

And neither is dating a man who her son is attached to. That’s just…what happens when he leaves? They always leave, and while Henry hasn’t known Killian for that long, she just knows him not showing up anymore would upset him.

But Killian wouldn’t do that, right?

“You know what, Henry,” Emma starts slowly, her voice cracking a little bit, “you have to ask Killian if he wants to come with us, okay? He might be busy.”

“Okay,” Henry whisper-shouts back at her before walking across the table and whisper-shouting into Killian’s ear as well. “Will you come trick or treating with us tomorrow and let my mom give you candy because she likes you?”

Emma groans and lets her head fall to the picnic bench, not caring about the weird stickiness that’s left there. Anything could be better than this.

“Yeah, lad,” Killian chuckles, and Emma peeks up to see Killian winking at her, “I think I can do both of those things.”

Killian shows up at her apartment the next day wearing his full-pirate garb, eyeliner and fake jewelry included, and it goes along perfectly with Henry’s costume as well as the costume she’s wearing. It’s not the bar wench one because that is in a trashcan somewhere, but it is the one that includes pants and these really cool boots and a vest that she’d probably like to wear on days that it’s not Halloween. Emma ignores the fact that they look like a family, especially when at least ten different people comment about how cute they all are, because this is about Henry and his happiness. This isn’t about the battle that’s been happening in her mind for the last thirty-six hours.

There is absolutely no reason for her to be able to have good things like this. She’s a screw up foster kid who has never had anyone love her the way that she thinks she’s supposed to be love, but she has this kid who, even on his worst days, she would do absolutely anything for. He came from such a dark place in her life, one that she didn’t think she could get out of, but here she is in a town that supports the both of them.

With someone who has spent the past hour talking in a strange accent to indulge Henry and make him laugh while they stuff their face with more candy than Emma would usually allow.

Today is a good day.

And it continues that way when she drops Henry off with Granny so that she and Killian can go to work, the two of them changing out of their pirate garb and back into comfortable jeans and flannel with the ridiculous masks that they’ve been changing up every day. It’s one last day, one last night, and Emma can’t wait to share the shit out of some people.

-/-

“Did you see her face?” Killian chuckles as they walk through the woods back to the clearing behind the front office building. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone be so terrified by a clown mask.”

“Clowns are creepy. That’s why they make horror films about them.”

“Aye, I know, but you have to admit that the woman’s face was priceless.”

Emma bumps her shoulder into Killian’s, and he looks down at her to smile, the moon reflecting off of half of his face. Those damn butterflies are not moving around in her stomach at the sight of his smile. Nope. Not at all.

“It was,” she admits as a few hundred people come into view, all of the employees over the past month gathering together for the wrap party that Mary Margaret and David throw for everyone full of drinks and junk food and all of the Halloween candy in the world. “That’s what will have to carry me over until next year.”

“Good. You want to grab some pizza and a few beers and go hit the hay?”

“You want to go to sleep?”

“No, Swan,” he laughs as his hand comes up to wrap around her shoulder, “not quite yet. I meant we can go sit in the trailer of the hayride. No one seems to have occupied it.”

Emma’s eyes glance over to where the trailer is parked, and it is, indeed, empty. “Yeah, I think that would be okay.”

They load up on food and drinks, carefully balancing them in their hands, before walking over to the trailer and easily climbing up onto the trailer, settling down into the middle and placing their plates of food up onto the haybales. She’s probably going to have hay stuck in her clothes and her hair for the next week and a half, but it might almost be worth it.

The pizza and beer are cheap, but after hours of running around, that doesn’t matter to Emma at all. Besides, the conversation is good, Killian telling her about his adventures in interviewing with Leroy to see if he can get a job on his construction crew since that’s apparently what he did back in Boston after he left the Navy earlier than planned due to Liam’s death.

There’s so much that she doesn’t know about him, that she can’t know after only knowing him for a month and a half and only tolerating him for a little less than that, but maybe Henry was right in his assumption that she might just like the guy who pushed her off a ship and almost caused her to accidentally drown.

Something she likes to remind him quite frequently only for him to remind her that it wasn’t his fault and that he did save her.

They can agree to disagree.

(They’re both technically right.)

A sharp wind comes moves through the woods, and a shiver runs down Emma’s spine so that she has to tighten her coat around her a little bit more. She needs a beanie, pretty much desperately, but there’s not a lot she can do about any of that right now. She’s been colder than this before. She’ll last.

And it’s such a nice night with the stars up in the sky and the moon shining overhead, no deadlines or schedules looming over her for at least a few days, and all Emma can do is relax in it, leaning back into Killian’s shoulder and sighing in relief.

He taps his foot against hers then, and Emma ignores it. But then he does it again and again and again until she looks over at him to see him holding a Kit Kar bar in between his fingers.

“What?” Emma groans. “Why are you being so annoying?”

His eyelashes flutter down then, just for a moment, before he’s looking up at her with a soft smile that she’s only seen from him a few times before. “I want to give you this piece of candy.”

“Um, why?”

His eyes roll, and Emma doesn’t know what to think of it because there’s really no reason for him to be so exasperated. “Your son, brilliant lad that he is, told me that if I like you, I should give you some candy. This is me giving you candy.”

Oh.

Emma’s heart stutters. Actually, it probably completely stops. She’s having a hard time knowing exactly what’s going on when her head is a mess, a mix of alcohol and confusing feelings and a little bit of being terrified of making the wrong mood, but Killian most definitely just took dating advice from a six-year-old and told her that he has feelings for her.

She’s really not ready for Henry to start dating if he’s going to be able to do things like this.

With a small, trembling smile on her face, Emma turns around and finds a red Starburst on her plate and reaches over to hand it to Killian, whose smile stretches up to his eyes now. “Okay, but just so you know, this candy is going to come with some stipulations, okay?”

“Like what, Swan?” Killian asks even as the rough pads of his fingers come to cup her cheek, pulling her closer to him so that their mouths are so close that she can’t tell whose breath is whose as it comes out in white puffs of air. “Because if it’s about Henry, he’s already given me a stern talking to about how I’m only allowed to make you happy and not sad like his dad did.”

“Did he really?”

“Aye, love, he did. And I understand that there will be boundaries and limitations and that Henry comes first. I want him to come first, always. I just – ”

Emma doesn’t let him finish before she’s pressing forward and gliding her lips over his and wrapping her arms around his neck in one swift moment. They’re both still at first, and Emma takes in the fact that his cold lips taste like pizza, beer, and chocolate. It’s not the best combination in the world taste-wise, but it is pretty good in general. So is the kiss when Killian starts moving his lips against hers, tugging her closer with his hand and tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss, mouths quickly opening and tongues lightly swirling together in a slick, wet slide.

She’s had first kisses before, more than she’d care to admit, and as absolutely magnificent as a lot of them were, Emma doesn’t think her heart has ever felt quite this way – like a mix of happiness and magic and a little bit of Halloween spirit.

It is the best holiday of the year, after all. She can be whoever she wants.

Right now, though, she doesn’t want to be anyone other than Emma Swan or be anywhere other than in this moment.

-/-

They don’t tell Henry that they’re dating for four more months. It’s hard to keep from him, honestly, but Emma knows that it’s for the best. Things could still go wrong, her fears are still valid, and Henry is easy to accept the fact that Killian sometimes spends a little bit more time with them than usual. But still as his mom’s friend.

It’s pretty easy for Henry to accept when Killian makes the transition from friend to boyfriend.

Even easier when he goes from his mom’s boyfriend to his step-father. It makes picking out family costumes for Halloween even easier.

(Emma is ignoring that Henry will eventually grow out of liking doing that.)

Killian gives her a piece of candy every day to make sure that Emma knows that he has feelings for her.

She’s got a pretty good idea.

#Storybrooke haunted farms #cs hallloweek #cs fic #cs ff #captain swan fic #Captain Swan #captain cobra