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gay-dorito-dust · 6 days

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I have been binging your work!

I don't know if this breaks your trauma rule or not, but (with the guys of your choosing as long as Ratio is there) how would the guys react to losing reader (they haven't confessed feelings yet) during a mission and thinking they died. Then, the reader reappears a week later bandaged up, but alive. Maybe spouts their confession first? ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

I adore your writing. Thank you!

This is way too fucking long, so be warned. It’s like I rammed 4 mini stories in one but got lost at some point cuz I left this ask to collect dust. Also thanks for enjoying my writing it’s much appreciated. :) 🦦🐿️

Sunday:

The moment he got news that you’ve been assumed dead in the aftermath of a dangerous mission, he looses composure really quickly.

Loosing Robin was one thing but loosing you on top of that was the straw that broke the camels back.

He originally doesn’t believe that you were gone, he refuses to as he practically tears his office to shreds in a fit of anger and grief before forcing himself to regain composure and clean up after his outburst. He needed to in order to keep up the illusion that he was the levelheaded leader The Family needed in these moments of chaos and mistrust.

Even if he himself was breaking down internally alongside everyone else, hellbent on finding the culprit for your death and punishing them so severely that they’d beg for death. He’d avenge you in anyway he could, even if it meant sending out the bloodhound family on a wild goose chase that only ends in dead ends, he would get you justice no matter how it may come.

His heart had died alongside you that day.

So when a week passes and he finally has you back in his arms, all the while being carful with your wounds as his eyes searched you over in a way you weren’t use to.

‘You’re alive.’ He breathes out in relief as he then begins to laugh and rest his head against yours, breathing you in deeply as he relishes in this long awaited moment. ‘Of course you’re alive.’ He mutters.

‘Sunday,’ you began but Sunday was quite to cut you off.

‘Do you know how I felt thinking you were dead? Driving myself insane to prove that you were still alive anyway I could as not to bear the idea of walking through this life without the one person I love so dearly.’ Sunday takes a brief pauses in his monologue, feeling out of breath after having put everything out into the open before continuing. ‘I thought my heart had stopped beating that day and now I have you bad in my arms.’ Sunday then chuckles darkly as he gripped you tighter. ‘I’ll ensure that I’d never have to revisit that part of my life ever again.’

‘Sunday-‘

‘Shhh.’ Sunday cuts you off once more, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he holds you close to his chest, rubbing your back soothingly. ‘Just know that what I do after this, I do out of my love for you.’ He says against your forehead before pressing another kiss there for good measure.

Jing yuan:

Loss wasn’t new to Jing Yuan.

He has experienced it in multiple forms throughout his life, but that didn’t made the news of your death any less painful for the General.

While his mind might’ve made peace with the fact that you were gone, his heart however did not as he would find himself in the places that you often vacated to in moments of stress, or to just be left alone for a while with your thoughts. So to no longer see you in any of those hidden spots -waiting for him to find you like you usually did- only worsened the grief he felt in his heart as he sat himself down and allowed the memories to pass over him in waves.

You were both so happy together and felt a sense of fulfilment that could only be achieved when you were within the other’s presence; A feeling that was uniquely yours and yours alone that could never be replicated, ever. For no one could ever come close to replacing you, nor the companionship you and he had for each other that many assumed would blossom into something more; Jing Yuan also shared the same sentiments as they did, but just as he built the courage to push that boundary between the two of you, you were taken from him before he could utter a single word.

So when a week passes and Jing Yuan found your battered and beaten form in one of your secret spots, back resting against a tree with your eyes closed.

‘Y/n?’ He called out and your eyes opened upon hearing his voice and looking at him with a weak smile. ‘Hey General, miss me?’ You said as you struggled to get up to your feet, only to stumble forward and into Jing Yuan’s chest as his strong yet gentle hands hold you in place.

‘More than you could ever hope to know.’ Jing yuan said as he focused on how you felt beneath his hands, warm and alive.

‘I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ You muttered against his chest as his warmth made you realised just how tired you were from everything you’ve experienced this last week alone. ‘I never meant to keep you waiting in fear that you’d forget about me if I don’t stay in your life long enough.’ You admit and Jing Yuan instinctively presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, holding you protectively.

‘I could never forget about you my beloved.’ Jing Yuan reassured you as he looked you deep into your eyes. ‘You’ve managed to carve your place within my heart and soul, so much that there isn’t a day where you aren’t all I think about, regardless of whether or not your by my side or far away.’ He finished by pressing a gentle kiss to the gauze on your cheek, chuckling upon seeing your cute attempts of burrowing your face into his chest.

‘How long have you’ve been waiting to say this.’ You asked, thankful that he was the one to admit his feelings first, as you would’ve had a hard time articulating your words as fluidly as he could.

‘For a very long time.’ Jing Yuan replied with a small smile as he then proceeded to lift you into his arms, cuasing you to squeal in surprise, as he made sure to be carful of your wounds and began walking to the nearest medics to make sure your wounds weren’t going to be trouble later on.

Aventurine:

He didn’t know what to think when you were pronounced dead, all Aventurine could feel in that moment was an overwhelming numbness that encased him entirely.

The only light left in his life had been snuffed out, plummeting him into utter and total darkness he had once been well acquainted with until you came along, giving him a reason to keep looking forward despite everything.

You were no longer here to hold onto his left hand before he could even think of hiding it behind his back out of habit, you were no longer here to be his reason, his comfort, his safe place. You were taken away from him unfairly and once again Aventurine found himself asking the same question he has been asking himself for a long time; why everyone was born into this life just to die.

So when a week passes and Aventurine finds himself sat on a bench somewhere, still not dealing well then than he was the week of your assumed passing, lost in his own thoughts when someone took a seat next to him. Aventurine was just about ready to tell them to go away, when he saw just who was sitting next to him; you.

‘I know, I look like shit but you don’t have to look at me like that.’ You spoke upon feeling his eyes gaze upon the gauze on your cheek, then towards the array of bandages that littered the rest of your body.

‘I thought you died.’ He hissed, emotion was heavy in his voice as his eyes became bleary with unshed tears as he felt his breathing become heavy with the reality that you were alive. He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t in that moment as his mind raced. And it wasn’t until you reached out to grasp his left hand and intertwine your fingers together, squeezing, did everything finally became clear to him.

‘I thought I was too at one point but there was something that kept me from journeying over to the afterlife.’ You admit, looking over at him and smiling sweetly, wanting nothing then to calm his thoughts and reassure him that this wasn’t a dream.

‘And what was that?’ He laughs humourlessly as he stares back at you, wanting to hear what excuses you could come up with for faking being dead for a week. ‘Willpower? Determination?’

‘You Kakavasha.’ You replied straightforwardly and his breath hitched in his throat. You rarely used his actual name unless it was absolutely serious. ‘You were all I thought about as I pushed through my injuries.’ You told him as you continued. ‘Kakavasha is waiting for me was just about all I could think about for a week straight.’ You finished as though you didn’t just confess that he was your soul motivator in staying alive.

‘Really?’ Aventurine said softly, finding it impossible that he could possibly be your reason for anything. ‘Why?’

‘Yes really.’ You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder. ‘As for why, it’s because I like you more then did let myself admit, but i just wanted you to know incase anything truly bad were to ever happen to me-‘

‘No.’ Aventurine cut you off suddenly, squeezing your hand as though he were afraid. ‘Nothing is going to happen to you, not now. not ever. I just got you back.’ He adds resting his head against your own in a desperate attempt of feeling more of your against him. ‘Just stay with me…please.’ He begs you in a whisper as he nuzzled further into you. ‘and don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I don’t think I can bear the thought of loosing you again.’

You smiled softly as you just whispered back against the skin of his neck. ‘As long as you don’t go anywhere I can’t follow. I like my crush to be alive and close by even if he can be a pain in my ass sometimes.’

Aventurine chuckles, his heart becoming whole again as he made you cuddle into his side, kissing your head once more as you took this moment to familiarise yourselves with each other. ‘At least I’m a pleasurable pain in the ass.’ He teased and you pinch his side, causing him to flinch, but his smile remained and this time his smile was genuine.

His light has came home.

Ratio:

Fully believed that he’d see you when the mission ended, knowing just how talented and dedicated to the craft you were, and having faith that this would be a measly walk in a park for you.

Only to receive word that you were one of the many who were assumed dead when you weren’t found amongst the living nor the dead.

Veritas tries to remain as levelheaded and logical as possible during this time and continue life as normal. However found himself retracting from everyone else and going none contact, more so specifically with the people you were once associated with, and instead focused heavily on his studies and academics to an unhealthy extent.

A week passes and Veritas feels as though he’s seen a ghost the moment he saw you in his peripheral vision, bandaged and dressed in ripped clothing but still somehow finding it in you to smile.

‘You idiotic Buffon!’ He exclaims as he walks towards you.

‘Well that’s a nice way to greet someone you care about.’ You replied as you readied yourself for a massive rant about how stupid you were and so on, but instead you were held against his chest as he burrows his head into your neck.

‘I thought you died.’ He says in a whisper as he breathed you in. This went against all logic but in that rare moment Veritas didn’t care, you were alive but he still couldn’t let go of the fact that you didn’t tell anyone you were still alive. ‘Why didn’t you tell anyone that you were alive, send a signal, anything.’

You shrugged as you made yourself comfortable in his strong arms. ‘All communications were badly damaged or completely cut off.’ You told him. ‘I was on my own for a long while before finding my way back to you.’

‘Me?’ Veritas asked, pulling away from you. ‘Why not a medial facility for a proper treatment of your wounds? Have you hit your head so hard that common sense had been left on the back burner when making that decision?’

‘I wanted to see you first you dickhead!’ You exclaimed, shutting Veritas up rather quickly with your confession but you didn’t care. ‘is it so wrong of me to let the man I love know that I’m okay? So go ahead and call me an idiot all you like but that won’t change the fact that I felt more fear about not telling you how I truly feel then dying on some stupid mission.’ You finished your rant.

‘You’re insufferable.’ Veritas said after a moment of silence and you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed at this that you didn’t notice that Veritas has began to close in the distance between the two of you.

You scoffed. ‘Oh sure call me insufferable as if you-‘ Veritas cuts you off by cupping your cheeks and planting a sweet short lived kiss against your lips before pulling away with a smirk.

‘Glad to know that the feelings are reciprocated.’ He says, taking enjoyment of rendering you speechless as he gently guided you to medical, and remaining by your side for the remainder of the day.

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letsquestjess · 7 months

Text

The Call of Home (Crosshair x GN!Reader)

Summary: When Crosshair comes home after another fight, you make a decision that will change your lives for the better.

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: Established relationship. Mentions of injury and blood. Bit angsty but has a fluffy ending. Going to put an 18+ and an MDNI on this one for slightly suggestive themes towards the end.

-- -- -- -- --

Sleep teased at the threads of your consciousness and the final images of your cosy dream faded. An enticing voice in the recesses of your mind told you to snuggle into the warmth of your duvet, to ignore whatever had disturbed your rest and to slip back into the world of slumber again, but a crash outside your room wiped away any chance of settling. A distant hiss drifted in, followed by a mumbled curse and noisy rummaging.

Wide awake, you startled upright. You fumbled blindly in the dark until your fingers met with the cold drawer handle, easing it out and finding the reassuring shape of the knife hilt inside. The wedge of light slipping through the ajar door illuminated the weapon as you swung your legs from the bed and removed the protective cover.

Outside, the noises subdued, but you could hear muffled scrapes and tearing fabric. This better not be what I think it is, you thought, fearlessly swinging the door open and bracing to strike. Faint shadows danced on the wall and an all too familiar silhouette moved within the mellow glow.

“What are you doing with that, sweetheart?” Crosshair said as you pattered into the kitchen, the knife still firmly in your grasp. He clenched a packet between his teeth, tore it open, and forced the wipe over the gash in his hip. “Unless you’re going to cut some bandages with it, you can put it down now.”

You flung the blade onto the work surface and dragged a chair around the table to sit in front of him. Streaks of blood had dried on his cheeks to mingle with the sheen of sweat. “You need to see a medic,” you said, checking him over for any other injuries. As you tended to the dripping red nicks near his shoulder, you noticed the crimson and purple bruises blooming on his knuckles.

“No,” he grunted, breathing through a wave of searing agony and shaking his head. “No medics. Just do what you can.”

“Cross-”

“Please.”

The anguish in his weary, sunken eyes was enough to tear you apart, and freeing a lengthy breath, you wriggled out of the chair to crouch by his side. “I’m sorry, I’ll be quick,” you said, helping him lift the blood-soaked wipe and trying not to let the whimper he gave shake your resolve. You angled yourself a little closer to assess the extent of the damage. “It’s not too deep, you won’t need stitches, but you’ll have to rest for a couple of weeks while it heals. Properly, this time.”

He humphed, and a whistle hissed through his gritted teeth as you returned the wipe and placed another one on top.

“Keep pressure on that,” you told him, washing your hands and donning a pair of surgical gloves from the first aid box on the table. With deft fingers, you snipped open a slim packet and extracted the bacta pad, pulling it taut. It took a few mild prods and no small amount of coaxing, but you managed to get it to stick over the exposed wound. “Are you going to give me an explanation as to what happened or…?”

Crosshair didn’t respond, his breaths labouring in his chest as he hunched over the table. His face contorted while the cold pad numbed the sharp throbs in his side.

“You wake me up, again might I add,” you said, removing the gloves and throwing them into the bin, “trailing blood through the kitchen, and you decide to stay quiet?”

“I got caught by blaster fire,” he grumbled. He didn’t have the energy to argue. Not tonight. “What does it look like?”

Your heart raced as you bit back the urge to yell at him for putting you in these situations. You understood why he did it, why he came home so often covered in blood and bruises. Following the war and the Empire’s control, the general sentiment towards clones plummeted. Many who had despised them during the time of the Republic now felt more justified in their detestation, and much of it boiled over into violence.

The chair let out a faint squeak on the tile as you lifted him from it, leading him to the refresher. After selecting some loose sweat pants from the dresser, you placed them beside the sink and switched on the shower. Once the water was warm enough, you handed him a bar of his favourite soap. “I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me, okay?”

He couldn’t look at you, nodding instead at the ground, and you left him to it.

For over ten minutes, you paced outside the refresher, the plush carpet sweeping the soles of your feet until you’d carved a warm path for yourself in the flooring. You made sure the shower was still running before you wiped at the tears trickling from your lashes. You hated seeing Crosshair hurt. Every time he returned to you in a broken state, you wondered how long it would be before he wouldn’t come home. If the blaster fire would shift ever so slightly and…

In a stifled cough, you snatched a tissue from the beside cabinet and rubbed at your sleepy eyes. It wouldn’t happen. You wouldn’t allow it.

A few moments after the shower hushed, Crosshair emerged from the refresher. His dark gaze scanned yours. The instant you offered him your arms, he buried his face in your neck, breathing you in as though you alone could remedy all his wounds.

Edging back, you guided him to the bed, propping him on the soft pillows and making sure he was comfortable before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Stay here,” you whispered. “I won’t be long.”

His eyes followed you as you left the room, and he picked at the dry skin on his thumbs, almost startling as you strode back in with purpose and perched yourself next to him. The screen of your datapad lit up your features as you scrolled through the list of messages. You found the one you were searching for and handed him the device. “This came through this morning,” you explained. “Your brothers want to see you, Cross.”

Crosshair read and re-read Hunter’s message. You had kept in contact with them since your last meeting, and it brought him a sense of relief. Relief that if anything happened to him, if his recklessness cost him his life, they would ensure your safety.

“I haven’t replied,” you told him. “I wanted to show you first.”

What had he done to deserve your love, your thoughtfulness, your kindness? Nothing. That was what. And yet you stayed, even after hearing all the awful things that lay in his past.

Retrieving the datapad from his grasp, you located the next item and returned it. “Saw this the other day. I calculated everything, and we have enough.”

The sniper squinted at the ship listing and read down the specifications. “Why would we need a ship?”

“To visit your brothers,” you replied, snuggling up beside him. “Perhaps Pabu might be a nice place for us to settle. Or we could travel a bit, see where the Empire hasn’t touched.”

“I’m not having you packing up your life and leaving everything you know just so I’ll stop getting into fights,” he said sharply, shame sinking its razor claws into him and hacking away another chunk of his soul.

Your intuition kicked in, and you slipped your hand beneath his to squeeze his long fingers. “What if I wanted to move on from this place? What if this planet hasn’t felt like home for a while and I’d like to make a new start with the man I love?”

Crosshair’s analytical gaze locked onto you. Your sagged shoulders and the resigned drop of your eyebrows spoke volumes, conveying everything he needed to know about your true feelings on the matter. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

You shrugged and rested your head on his upper arm. “Never seemed to find the right time to bring it up.”

His arms roped around you and drew you into his warmth, encompassing you in his protection. “I understand you fight with those people because they don’t like clones,” you murmured into the crook of his neck, “and because you want to make up for what happened after the war. You won’t get that from fighting, and I…” You huffed a drained sigh. “I’m scared you won’t come home.”

With your admission, Crosshair’s grip on you tightened. Although he didn’t relish the thought of fighting, he couldn’t ignore the fact that it was what he had been created for. His hands had been made to cradle a rifle, and his mind had been finely tuned for precision and accuracy. His entire being had been honed and fashioned for the sole purpose of engaging in and dying in battle. But whenever he was in your presence, he contemplated being made for something different. Arms formed to hold you. Lips crafted to kiss you. Heart moulded to love and cherish you.

When you looked up at him, he met your loving gaze with a comforting smile before leaning in to capture your lips. He guided your hand to his cheek and nuzzled your palm, a welcome change from the sterile surgical gloves you’d worn while tending to him. “A ship of our own sounds nice,” he whispered, his breath warm against your splayed fingers before he lowered them to his bare chest so you could feel the beats of his heart.

In perfect tandem, you followed Crosshair’s shifts and gentle pulls until you were seated in his lap, peppering his jaw with slow pecks. Each press of your mouth to his heated skin placed whispers against his doubts. ‘You are loved,’ they promised. ‘You are cherished.’

Upon hearing the subtle grunt, you stopped. His nose crinkled. “Okay, none of this until you’re better,” you teased, climbing from his lap and settling into your space in the bed. Patting your chest, you coaxed him down and caressed your fingers through his silver strands. “We’ll find a home, Crosshair. Somewhere safe and peaceful.”

“Wherever you are is where I want to be,” the sniper hummed comfortably. “You are my home.”

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