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unholyhelbig · 2 months

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I just want to say I'm already hooked on the beast you made me. I can't wait for the next chapter!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 2/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 5151

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Blood, fatal injuries, animal bones, mentions of death, containment, and horrible grammar because I don't proofread

[a/n: Thank you all for the overwelming support on the first chapter! I truly didn't expect that much reception. I'm going to be traveling for the next week so the next chapter might be delayed a bit]

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1917, Rural Pennsylvania

A sweeping river cut through the patch of sweetgrass on the south side of the farm. It emitted a gurgling sound that often soothed your nerves. There was a rocky clearing sandwiched between the tree line and the plain of grass that had become a perfect spot for you to settle in and read the hard-covered books you’d gotten from the corner store.

Your father would bring back any book you requested from the city during his travels. You devoured them faster than he could provide them and had read ‘Eight Cousins’ ,Lousia May Alcott’s foray into the adventures thirteen-year-old Rose, enough to nearly tear the pages from the binding.

The book itself held the clean honeyed scent of the earth, of the secluded spot that you called your own. Your muscles would thrum from loading the bales of hay into your fathers ford. Your fingers were calloused, and dirt caked around your ankle in a dark ring. All of that vanished when you cracked open the book about a girl that was so much like yourself.

It was easy to lose yourself in the paragraphs, the hum of the river sometimes lulling you to sleep. Your mother would pack you a sandwich on warm, hand-kneaded bread, usually some salted meat and mayonnaise. She’d pack sweet tea and send you on your way, knowing that you wouldn’t return to the house until you saw a flicker of a firefly.

Today, you’d fallen asleep under the sun. The book was discarded, and your forearm draped across your eyes. It was easy to drift, and easier still to dream about leaving the small dairy farm for something bigger- the very city that your father would return from with new literature and arts, and spices that made your mouth buzz with flavor.

You were in a haze when the ear-piercing scream cut through the air as if it were a natural solid. Your ears pinched at the sound, heels digging into the coarse sandy shore. Maybe it was a dream. It could have been an animal that had sunk its pointed teeth into the artery of another.

So, you waited, panting with your heart in your chest and the corner of the book barely lapped by the muddied water. And there was this sound. It was no fox caught in a trap or bovine tangled up in the barbed wire fence around the property- no, this was familiar. This was your sister.

Helena was quiet, often described as demure and borderline submissive. Despite being younger than yourself she carried a certain poise about her. Mother would often boast about how she would have no trouble finding a husband, how the boys already fawned over the child of hers that was not feral and unkempt.

Her cry was the loudest you had ever heard her and it had you on your feet, scrambling up the bank. Once past your small world of wonder, you were greeted with an endless sea of sweetgrass that was waist high in some areas.

A warm breeze created waves against the landscape, the farmhouse a small speck among the expanse of land. Your head was spinning, it was hard to track exactly where it had come from. It took another cracking screech to set you North.

Your legs pumped until you were consumed in a blind speed. You’d been renowned for your quickness, for your dedication to get from point A to point B. The kids in your town often joked that you were steadier than a steed. Not only were you the fastest in the class, but the fastest in the county according to some. Still- only a child of fifteen, and no man would want to wed someone with speed. It wasn’t a practical skill.

There was a pit deep in your stomach whirled, instinct knowing precisely where Helena was yowling from.

Jorge had gotten there at the same time you did; his brow was leaking with sweat and he panted against the hot air that surrounded you both. Your older brother was tall and lanky, serpent-like with beady black eyes and pitch hair to match your father’s. His shirt hung low against his midsection, his skin pale despite his hours in the sun working the fields.

“Stay back, y/n.” He demanded sharply.

The old well was a mere foot in front of you both but neither made the effort to move forward. The aged wooden plank that covered the stone shaft had been splintered through the middle, worn from age and weather.

Helena’s soft cries echoed up. When your father had first acquired the property, the previous owners explained that it had been boarded up after of the bulls had fallen down and snapped it’s neck. It was too large to pull out and they left it to starve and then rot.

Your father never let any of his children peer down into the well. You wondered if something had pulled Helena here, or if she had simply forgotten of it’s existence. Jorge dropped down to his knees and did a cautious crawl as if his own two feet couldn’t’ hold him anymore.

You saw the exact moment his skin became waxier, almost a gray porcelain paleness that had a green tint. He was swallowing too much, his white shirt coated in the red clay dirt.

“What?” You asked, voice breaking “What is it?”

“Go get Mama.”

It would have been easy to listen to your brother. He was the man of the house when your father wasn’t there but with him pleading for your mother, for an adult, you got a rancid taste in your mouth.

Against your better judgement you edged close enough to the abandoned well. The sun was setting in a fire-filled orange haze with enough color and angle to get a good view of the bottom; a slosh of fallen grass and rainwater, and muck, and yes; the bones of a beast once left to decay and rot in its own silence.

Your sister was wedged within the ribcage of the befallen bull, almost as if she replaced the beating heart that stopped pulsing long ago. Her hands gripped at the sun-bleached bone, knuckles nearly the same color.

It took you a moment to make out the slick, and the red that stemmed from the center of her stomach. The head of the bull had shattered under her weight, all expect the stretching length of it’s curved horn. That was wedged through her abdomen, surrounded in a vibrant rose red that puddled and had already coated her hands.

Prints from her struggle were against the limestone edges of the well. Her eyes pleaded up at you; your kind and caring, and animal-loving sister was trapped inside the remains of one. You fought back the urge to vomit, the rash thought that if the bone ripping through her flesh didn’t kill her, then infection would.

“Y/n get mama!” Jorge hissed again, and this time you didn’t hesitate. You nearly tripped over your own boots with the fever it took to back away from the scene, the metallic scent of blood mixing deliciously with the turn of rotted soil.

You had never run so fast in your life.

Wanda Maximoff had never felt the cold that wormed its way to her bones before. It was the type of cold that almost wasn’t, a stinging, horrible feeling that had her startled from the folded metal chair. It collapsed within itself as the blinked the wine-dark color from her eyes.

She stumbled backward, only to be brought back to the starkness of the room by a soft grip on her elbow. Wanda allowed herself to be held, if not for stability but for comfort. Steve Rodgers had a welcoming hand on the small of her back, the other steadying her.

He was a solid force, and her reaction stirred him.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from her lips, “Jesus Christ.”

There was quietness to the room in the aftershock of the fallen chair. It was nicer than a standard holding cell. The walls were cream colored, triple enforced to keep people like you inside. There was a bed bolted to the wall, a bunk that was almost like a summer camp endeavor.

A charged glass wall was blocking you from the rest of the world. It was seemingly unbreakable, and in this moment, so were you. Wanda didn’t want to test the glass, nor did she know how to make sense of the memories- your memories- that had flooded every inch of her body.

You were asleep, chest rising and falling at a normal pace, as if none of what Wanda had just seen was flitting around your mind. Soft snores pushed past your lips, one arm hanging over the side of the bed while the other followed the flow of your breathing as it rested on your chest.

Wanda didn’t understand the secrecy and the precaution that surrounded you. The Avengers compound was a constant ebb and flow of different heroes, Inhumans and mutants. What made you so different? What made you an 0-8-4?

It was a term that Natasha had used only once that was usually attached to objects, not a person. It was an object of unknown origin and in that case, it was a power-filled object from space. Space. She’d been through different dimensions, but that, for some reason, struck her as terrifying.

0-8-4’s were never brought here, but then again, they’d never been alive either. Steve had told her that your energy signal was off the charts, and that they wanted her to dig around your head. Something that she denied doing at first. It was an invasion of privacy.

But, there was a certain pleading within Captain America’s eyes that scared Wanda more than the personal rules she set for herself when it came to her power. What she had seen, what she had felt was barely scraping the surface of what your mind contained. She wasn’t keen on pushing past that barrier for the conclusion of that story. Was it even yours?

“What? Wanda, what is it?”

“I… I don’t” She shook her head, eyes hardening as she stared into Steve’s “Where did you find her?”

He hesitated to answer, his eyebrows furrowing before he looked away from the witches’ prying eyes. She’d been part of this team for years now and they were still reluctant with what they were willing to share. Wanda clenched her jaw, then unclenched it before her stare flashed back to your resting form.

There was a small frown that creased your features. You looked so… harmless. You had shifted, folded into yourself as if you were scratching the surface of what flashed before her. Your arm was folded under your head, knees flush to your chest. A small, beautiful whimper escaped you.

“She’s in distress, Steve.”

“Discomfort, more like. It’s better for all of us that she stays in there for right now. The last thing we want to do is harm anyone but if that requires some temporary-“

“Imprisonment?”

“Containment.” He said firmly, eyes hard. Wanda crossed her arms over her chest but stayed silent, letting him continue. She was sure she wouldn’t have been asked if not for her ability to worm her way into minds, to rearrange things. “What did you see?”

“A memory, one that can’t possibly be hers. The timeline doesn’t fit, this is a woman in her mid-twenties and who I saw was barely a teenager on a farmstead. To experience that much tragedy, that much fear and heartache.”

She started to pace, trying to not only work through her own thoughts, but yours as well. It could have been a story, and she was convinced of the fact save for the vividness. There was the feeling of grass tickling her arms and the sharp, undeniable stench of blood.

“Her younger sister died, fell through some rotted wood and fell to her death.” Wanda’s fingers pressed against the edge of her hairline. “She could have lived, but I have my doubts.”

He lifted a perfectly sculpted brow at her. His expression betrayed his compassion towards you, his stance uncomfortable with the topic. While the revelation was heartbreaking it hardly made you extraordinary. They’d all lost people, none had stirred Wanda as you did.

Wanda’s stare found his after darting to you once more, “Steve, I have the sinking feeling that what I saw was only scratching the surface. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of memories that were pressing in on all sides.”

The sensation of being observed is what pulled you from your fitful sleep. Exhaustion had washed over you like a tidal wave, all at once and leaving your mouth dry like a spoonful of salt. There was a stiffness that rivaled that of the grave you’d crawled out of, and you hoped that it was all a dream.

You were in your bed, in your apartment, after having one too many drinks. It was a horrible stretching nightmare that had plunged you into one sea of darkness from another. But even you weren’t that naïve.

Just as you felt a stranger’s eyes on you now, you had felt the dirt under your nails, the cold sodium-filled takeout as you attempted to chew it. More than anything, you remembered the burning feeling of the Black Widow pressed fully against your back, bending you over Jenn’s kitchen counter.

“I would prefer if you kept the feeling of my wife’s body against yours out of your mind.”

You shot up with a dizzying amount of quickness, heart suddenly in your chest. There was an imbalance to the bed that you were laying on. It was smaller than your own and unfamiliar. The room was stark white. It hurt your eyes and you had to blink the color away. You pressed the heels of your palms close to your eyes.

It felt as if you were locked in a glass shower with an audience and stage lights. The more you looked, the more you realized it was a room, something with no personal effects but a bed and a dimmer switch that you itched to utilize.

A pitcher of water was on an end table. It wasn’t color exactly, but it was more than the rest of your surroundings. Possibly with the worst manners you’d ever exhibited, you drank straight from the pitcher, not remembering the last time you had a drink. Suddenly, you were parched enough to soak your collar.

Despite your audience, you continued until you felt your stomach protest. You used the back of your hand to wipe away the moisture, black dirt was smeared across your skin. It was then, and only then, that you forced yourself to look past the walls of your prison, your enclosure.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” The woman said, walking close to the glass. You could see her clearly now, there was an heir of recognition about her, in the same way that there had been with the Black Widow.

“You were in my head.”

“For a while. It’s my job. But your thoughts are also deafening.”

“Sorry,”

This woman was intoxicating. Alluring and beautiful in her presence. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt hugging her form. You weren’t positive what time it was- what day it was- but it could be late into the night. She looked like she was roused from sleep, and a part of you felt guilty for the fact.

“Don’t apologize, sweetie.” Her voice was much more tender than it had been a few moments ago. “You can’t control being brought back from the dead. A lot of trauma comes with that.”

You stood shakily and walked closer to the glass. They’d taken your shoes and the tile under your feet was frigid. You crossed your arms over your chest and shivered into yourself. You didn’t want to think about the fact that they had undressed you, probably taken your clothes for testing. Instead they left you in a blue set of scrubs.

You averted your stare from your own reflection, not willing or ready to look too hard. You’d much rather look at this stranger, your heart not slowing, your head pounding. Nothing but a simple pane of glass separated you.

“And I was brought back from the dead, wasn’t I? That wasn’t a fucked-up dream where I got hit by a car and then poof God, if there is one, decided that me of all people was worth bringing back.”

She lilted her head, quirked an amusing brow at you. A chill flushed down your spine and seemed to fizzle out at your toes. This woman was gorgeous and terrifying and made you want to squirm. But if this was prison, you had to assert dominance. Right? That’s what Wentworth taught you.

This cell didn’t look or feel like Wentworth, and this Warden had an amused smile tacked to her lips like she had heard your every thought. And she had. At least you assumed that she did. She’d mentioned her wife earlier, and the woman’s body against your own was plaguing you like a runaway freight train.

When she didn’t say anything, you clawed to fill the silence “I want to talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce? Honey, he’s off world.”

“Off… world.” You laughed, softly at first but then almost manically, tears forming in your eyes that you wiped away with your cold fingers. “No, no, that’s really cool. I worked a 9-5 and now I can’t talk to Bruce because he’s in Outer Space.”

“Maybe not outer space, maybe another dimension.”

You leveled her with a humorless glare. She had both of her hands up as if she wanted to comfort you, or the caged animal you had become. You had to give her credit, she seemed just as horrified as you were. She offered up a dim, faltering smile.

There wasn’t a way for you to process this in a gentle manner, there was no one to guide you through it other than Jenn. She’d done this before, lived a whole life that was flipped upside-down and she’d come out on the other side. It was the uncertainty that scared the hell out of you.

“You were in my head earlier,” You stopped suddenly, pressing your fingers against the glass. The woman didn’t flinch. Your frantic breath fogged with each exhalation. “Do you know why I came back?”

She shook her head, “No. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?”

“No.” A weak chuckle, you let your hands drop. “At least we’re on the same page.”

The nurse they allowed to enter through the side of the containment unit took cautious steps towards you that made your chest ache. All your life, people had said how welcoming and kind you were; how they were never afraid to come to you with their worries. It had bothered you before the incident, before your death, but now you missed seeing the stare of those who didn’t harbor any fear.

She was small, a mouse of a thing that had pale blonde hair and startling blue eyes. Her name tag read Julia. Your mind rushed with the paths she’d taken to this place. She must be interning here, much too young to hold a classification herself.

Your finger twitched on your knee, palm sweaty. It’s heat radiated through the thin blue fabric of the pants they’d provided you with. You hated needles, always had. But, you struggled to stay still and the effect that had on poor nurse Julia was making you fidget more.

There was a scent about her. It was under the layers of hairspray, nail polish, and shea butter. It was a sweet metal that made your stomach swirl. Was it her sweat? You’d never smelt anything past walking by the bomb that was the boys locker room, and it certainly had never been this tantalizing before.

Your eyes met hers, crystal blue and uncertain. “You’ll just feel a little pinch”

This is when you pulled your gaze back and instead focused on the cream colored walls. There was no problem with needles, you’d dutifully sit for your flu shots, but something about the sharp edge pushing through a layer of skin and fat before hitting your vein made you nauseous.

“We just need enough to run a few tests.” Julia soothed.

She was a normal nurse in that one, small way. Your mind was itching, blood seeming to congeal. It refused to cooperate and her burning touch was all but dominant against your skin. You both waited for the small tube to fill with black liquid.

Finally, you felt her press the gauze against the crook of your arm and withdraw the needle. Another small pinch and then a massive relief. Her smell hung around you and filled the room. There was an undeniable urge to sink your teeth into her. To taste her.

You’d stopped the elevator just hours before to assess your penchant for brain consumption, but this wasn’t that. This was an intoxicating pull. This was animalistic, the same rush of emotion that had flooded you without prompting during your earlier conversation.

Julia squeezed your shoulder calmly, not entirely over her own reservations, but on the penance that she was a nurse and this was her job. You kept yourself rooted to the bed, fingers digging into the wood. She left the room and you could hear the compressed lock reseal you inside, breathing a sigh of relief.

That sweet odor lingered, and your reaction to it scared you more than anything. The wood beneath your fingertips splintered, and suddenly that anger, that fear, rolled away to shock. That wasn’t… normal. None of this was normal, but you weren’t exactly picked first in sports either.

You were a middle kid, a I guess I wouldn’t mind having you on my team kid. Suddenly your fingers were cutting through wood like it was butter. You let out an indignant squeak and shifted the blanket until the slashes were covered.

“Is everything alright?”

Wanda, you had learned that her name was Wanda, occupied her usual spot in front of the window. A slick sweat covered your forehead. She was holding a small tray that had a steaming bowl of soup and a delicious hunk of French bread.

“I figured you were hungry,” She lifted her chin towards the panel next to your door. “May I?”

“I’m at your mercy.”

And you were, truly. You hadn’t seen anyone but her since you’d woken up. There were shadows of others, people that made the pit in the center of your stomach grow three sizes. You knew exactly what they were doing, you watched enough true crime with Jennifer to know.

Here was this beautiful and powerful woman offering you food and words of comfort, and you allowed yourself to fall for all of it. Listlessly. Because what did you have to lose? You’d already died, and the thought of putting your family through the heartache of resurrection and then possibly enough committal to the ground was too much.

So, let her Stockholm syndrome you. The food smelled divine.

Wanda didn’t hold the same fear that Julia had. In fact, once the compression of air signified that it was okay for her to enter, she did so without hesitation. She set the food down on the equally dull side table and lowered herself onto the corner of the bed, making herself at home.

She’d changed into a pair of jeans, a simple t-shirt that had the outline of SHIELD on its sleeve. You frowned, for a company that does everything in its power to keep itself hidden, they sure loved that stupid bird so much.

“Go on, sweetie. You can eat.”

Wanda had a command about her that made you fold and listen despite any reservations. You took up a spot on the far end of the bed and shoveled the first spoonful into your mouth. An explosion of heady flavors coated your tongue, coaxing a low moan from your lips.

Blush rushed to your cheeks at the spark in the set of stormy eyes that watched you like a hawk. You rushed to break the tension. “So, what’s the plan here? Run a bunch of tests and keep me locked up?”

“Somewhat.” She paused, carefully thinking of her next words. “Y/n, I have the ability to get inside the psyche. Not only can I read every thought, every action, but I can control them too. It’s not something I like to do, nor something I want to. Not without permission.”

You frowned again. You certainly hadn’t given her permission to enter your mind before, and she tensed at the realization. But, you took another bite of soup and swallowed down the spiced broth. What’s done was done. You didn’t expect her to ask, much less admit to her wrongdoing.

“I prefer to ask. Can you tell me what you do for work?”

“Paralegal, the bar seemed like too much stress. But I’m good at my job. I was good at my job before a car turned me into sidewalk art.”

“Right, and your family, what about them?”

There was no desire to think of them and their perfect lives that you’d shattered with your death. Your mother used to sit in the tepid air on the porch swing, downing a glass of wine before she turned to you with tears in her eyes. She’d urge you to be careful working in the city. She’d plead for you to come home. More than anything, she’d utter the phrase a mother should never outlive her daughter.

“My mother is a seventh grade biology teacher and my father runs a painting business that’s been operating my whole life. They’re not very exciting people. They must be worried sick about me.”

Wanda nodded, “Any siblings?”

“Not anymore.”

She stilled at your words and didn’t pry. You were well aware of the fact that she could push through your deflections and learn the information that she wanted to know. But, you respected that she didn’t. Instead, she stared at you, and you stared right back, suddenly not hungry.

Wanda was someone that you felt the need to open-up to. Unlike the brief encounter you had had with her wife. Not that you let that word stick with you, not in the same way that her touch did. Again, you had to push the thoughts to the back of your mind, even if Wanda wasn’t prying.

Instead, she placed a warm hand on your thigh, sending a wave of shivers through your body. You suppressed a whimper at the sudden contact.

“I had a brother named Pietro. He was fast, unnaturally so. Neither of us ever wanted to be heroes, we didn’t think about the future like that. So, when the Avengers, these so-called saviors of the world, recruited us, we knew about the dangers. But it still shocked me when he died. He was my brother. He wasn’t supposed to be fragile like that.”

You stared at her with an amount of tenderness in your eyes that she wasn’t used to from the others. They cared, sure, but in the way that a co-worker would care enough to purchase cut flowers and a ‘sorry for your loss’ card. You were different.

“They’re our protectors.” You swallowed hard, mouth dry “when something drastic happens, it doesn’t seem real.”

“It still doesn’t.”

There was a lapse of silence that pushed memories in your direction. The burning cold weather on the day your own brother had died. You remember the scream that died in your throat and the way you’d knelt in the cracked snow until you couldn’t’ feel your legs or your fingers. It took an EMT with a heated blanket and a horror story about hypothermia to pull you to your feet.

“Jonathan.” You whispered.

She let out a questioning hum, pulling her feet from the floor and making herself more comfortable on the less-than-comfortable bed. “Your brother?”

“My older brother. I followed him around like a lost puppy, but he never complained. He was a hockey player and a damn good one too. He’d use the lake behind our house in Jersey to practice and one winter the ice broke underneath him. He drowned, and I was too weak to save him.”

Wanda let out a shuddered breath. You couldn’t read her facial expression. It was a mix of confusion, or sadness, but not pity and that was something you appreciated. You’d had enough pity, just as your family had enough grief without you adding to it.

She opened her mouth to reply, but both of you were startled when three quick knocks shattered the silence. The Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, stood on the other side. She showed no interest in breeching the containment unit. Instead, she leveled her wife with a dark stare and held up a folded piece of paper.

“Excuse me,” Wanda whispered, giving your leg a settling squeeze.

She left the plate and exited the holding cell. Her words were muffled, but those unripe green eyes that Natasha possessed kept flicking to you nervously. She too, didn’t’ show pity. It was interest and if you were being honest, you thought you saw the smallest spark of fear.

Wanda took the paper from her wife, squinted at something you couldn’t’ see. You felt like you were at a parent teacher conference, just out of bounds of hearing but you could see their body language; the way that Natasha itched to move closer to Wanda, the fingers that the taller woman pressed to her lips, thumb creasing the paper.

Finally, Wanda turned back towards the glass. Natasha met your stare without issue, hitting the intercom on the other side of the cell. It was her who spoke, her raspy voice falling from the speaker.

“In the spirit of transparency, we want to be honest with you about your blood results.”

You stood from the bed, moving to one side of the barrier. They were intimidating like that, standing shoulder to shoulder with a natural beauty. It made you want to shrink. If not for the paper in their hands you would have curled into yourself at the sight.

“Don’t tell me I’m dying.”

“No, honey.” Wanda shook her head, “Quite the opposite, you’re getting stronger.”

“I don’t understand.”

Natasha lifted an eyebrow and pressed the paper against the glass so you could read it. None of it made sense, it was lines of DNA that looked like musical notes. You shook your head, giving her a confused look.

Natasha scoffed, peeling the paper from the surface of glass. Wanda bit her thumbnail nervously. “According to these…You’re Asgardian, Kitten.”

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trappolia · 2 months

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NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR ── dan heng x gn!reader x blade, former dan feng x gen!reader x yingxing, 2.4k

you dream of blood.

the golden ichor that seeps through the jagged cracks of an old, divine blade. the deep red that drips from your wounds as a cruel reminder of your mortality, an ever existing shadow that haunts you through all the ships you travel through.

you dream of love.

a golden hairpin that catches your eye while walking through the bustling streets of a marketplace. the red paint that smudges on a lover’s lips when you exchange kisses. strokes of black ink upon parchment, reading words more poetic than one can ever have the courage to say aloud.

it is dizzying, in the way all dreams are. you are sitting under the moon and sharing a drink with someone you consider your friend, family, lover, and the next you are driving your spear through his chest. there are no blades of grass on this ship, no grassy fields for you to hide in, and the tendrils that you feel swaying, rustling, in waves past your ankles, are the chains of the sins you bear as someone they call their beloved.

the crew of the astral express are a welcome distraction, kind and warm as they offer you their companionship in their own personal ways. you help march 7th pin up photos in her room, laughing as you reminisce over your past travels through silly selfies and scenic photos. you sit with himeko during breakfast over a cup of coffee (yours brewed by yourself rather than the gorgeous redhead, thank the aeons) and indulge in the peaceful silence, a sense of normality that the woman is more than happy to give you after all that you’ve been through. mr yang tells you stories of other universes, weaving the already existing threads of all the lives you’ve seen around you into something completely different yet the same— and sometimes you can’t help but wonder if he lived a different life before all this.

but no matter what, you always find your way back to dan heng.

though you have your own assigned room, the simple arrangement of a flat pillows and a blanket on the floor of the archives is as much of a home to you as it is to dan heng. you’ve spent many a night in his room, poring over texts and books with him, more often than not passing out on his lap or in his sleeping area.

( “they come as a pair,” march 7th once told the trailblazer when they asked about the two of you. “himeko said that arrived on this ship together. whatever they went through in the past, they made it through because they had each other. but that’s just what i think.” )

it’s true, in a sense. what would you have done without dan heng, travelling through all those ships that always met the same end? you wonder if you would’ve lasted long enough for himeko to find you and bring you to the astral express.

probably not.

dan heng feels responsible for you. he doesn’t say it, but it’s obvious. you once confessed your insecurities to him on a dark night, back when the two of you were still getting used to having a proper roof above your heads without fear of the ship getting attacked or waking up to security banging through the door.

( “what if they think i’m useless because i’m always clinging onto you?” you had asked him in a small, weak voice.

“…they don’t seem like those sort of people.”

“but what if?”

dan heng had looked at you, his expression tired and soft all at once as he sighed.

“then they’ll have a problem with me too.”

“why?”

“because,” he brushed his fingers over your gaunt cheekbones, worn from all that you’d been through. “i’m just like you. if something took you from my side, then i might as very well be useless to them.” )

there’s a known truth between the two of you, one that you never speak of; but you both know that it’s a fact. if you hadn’t been involved with dan heng — with him — you’d still be at home in the xianzhou alliance. you’d be blissfully oblivious to the convict on the loose, the exile who has returned home. you’d be living your life— a normal life.

but you aren't.

instead, you dream of him.

it should be impossible. bracers are not meant to be shared between a trio, and whatever gift you had been planning to share between the three of you was lost upon the exile. and yet, even without the ancient magic of the vidyadhara, he somehow manages to make his way into your dreams, haunting you like a ghost.

some nights, you dream of those arms that had always held you with such certainty, an impenetrable shield even when bloodied and battered. other nights, you dream of those hands driving a blade through dan heng’s heart, squeezing your throat until you take your last breath through a broken windpipe.

and every night, when you wake up from those dreams in dan heng’s arms, you feel that pain welling in your chest, settling for days as it finds comfort in its new home, made up of your aching lungs and your shattered heart. the days and nights blur together like this— haunted by a man still living and breathing, though not quite human, in the nighttime, and traversing through the worlds like a ghost searching for meaning in the daytime.

you don’t remember how it ended up like this. or do you? it all feels like a dream, all the details and images blurring together to be forgotten by morning. but it isn’t morning, and you can’t wake up from this reality. your head throbs. a concussion? who cares.

you can’t afford to let your guard down on this ship you once called home. you’re here for a reason, and though that reason is your top priority, you can’t afford to be caught either. the cloud knight that found you and dan heng — sushang — doesn’t seem to recognise either of you, and neither does the strange tradesman luocha, but you still can’t take any chances. panic blossoms in your gut, unsettling as you grip your weapon in your weak hands.

ah. that’s right. you’re fighting. reason grounds you with the fuzzy memory of your enemy standing before you— an ambush, because whatever forces are at work here clearly play just as dirty as the antimatter legion and that damned aeon they serve.

a fight you can’t lose, no matter how badly your head is throbbing right now, because you still have to find the others, have to save them from— from—

“ren,” your grip on your weapon loosens as the dust clears, revealing the man standing before you.

the enemy, your brain screams, though it can’t even make you move away. the word that slips through your lips is familiar, and yet not. your head hurts thinking of calling him by his true name, the name you called him before he turned into this.

blade, is what kafka called him.

ren, is what it means in your mother tongue, the language spoken in moonlit nights as the three of you sat under the stars, the silence broken only by a whisper of their names.

the name comes out as a quiet, pathetic croak, staring wide eyed at his figure. he’s frozen just as you are, his broken blade aimed straight at you with an arm that wavers just the slightest.

it’s like a domino effect; your walls crashing down the moment you see his mask slip for the smallest moment.

“yingxing!” your voice breaks as you call out to him again, almost desperately (it does not occur to you that you've let your memory slip, called out for a man long dead). your feet are moving from under you before you even realise it.

blade lunges forward, his sword drawn.

a desperate cry of your name wretches itself out of dan heng’s throat in a way that makes your heart ache, but it’s too late now. his warning comes only seconds after you’ve begun to run straight to danger, death, a threat to your life seemingly unseen to you as you surge forward like a blind lover, but you can see him.

the sharp angles of his face, the familiar bracer on his calloused hand, the searing heat of his vermilion eyes. he’s so close— close enough to kiss, close enough to kill, close enough to be reality rather than an illusion forged by a dream.

his blade is not what meets you. instead, it’s his hand. dan heng’s panicked screams is barely audible over your hammering heartbeat, your pulse quickening as blade’s calloused fingers wrap around your throat. he’s stronger than you — you would know even if he hasn’t been haunting your dreams all those years — and so he can easily snap you in half the second you’re in his clutches.

but then you’re pressed against him, back to his front. blade pulls you as close to him as humanly possible until you’re both flush, sharing the same, saccharine oxygen after years of breathing stale air through stone lungs. despite the sharp end of a sword held over your throat, you allow yourself to close your eyes, reveling in this single moment as if you’ve lived an eternity where the three of you had never once hurt each other. though he had an eternity without a single regard to how you’d hurt each other. in these stolen moments, you let yourself be stupid, oblivious, selfish, just to breathe properly for the first time in what feels like a millennium.

“let them go,” dan heng hisses, breaking you out of your reverie.

“no,” blade’s eyes narrow. there is no mocking in his expression, no sardonic smirk or cruel taunts. his walls are still up, none of that broken emotion that you’d only seen for a split moment when your eyes first met, but he lets himself drop the bravado. between the three of you, there is no such thing.

you whisper a soft cry of his name, making dan heng’s grip tighten on cloudpiercer as he moves to snatch you out of blade’s grip, but your former lover only growls.

“come any closer, and i’ll cut them.”

his voice is scratchy, worn like the calloused hands that are wrapped around your nape, squeezing almost painfully. a distant memory flashes in your mind, of these same calloused palms washing your back after a long day, cleaning the blood and grime.

these same hands could be stained with your blood, if he so wishes.

“you won’t,” dan heng hisses, and you hear something in him break like glass shattering on the floor. “you can’t.”

he sounds so sure of it, that this man will not slice that blade over your throat and take your life just as he had taken dan heng’s in so many eternities.

you’re reminded of the fact that no matter how many times the hourglass has turned over for dan heng, no matter how muddled his memories become, he once loved this man just as you did— once relished in his presence and touch as it lulled him back to sanity, masking the weight of all the sins the three of you had committed over the lifetimes your strings of fate had been entangled.

blade moves as if to cut your throat, to finally take the first life, the first step in the nth round of this cycle of violence, but his sword only manages to press down just the slightest against the skin of your neck before he stops himself. his hand — the one adorned by that damned bracer — shakes as he glares at dan heng with a look that can kill.

“fuck,” blade mutters under his breath. the word is not meant for you, but you hear anyway. blade pulls back from you roughly, and a barely audible whimper tears out of your throat when he suddenly pushes you forward and into dan heng’s arms.

dan heng’s eyes widen, clearly just as surprised as you when blade relinquishes his hold on you. he catches you with unsteady arms, trying to keep cloudpiercer levelled at blade as if the man will suddenly lunge forward and take him from you again.

blade stares at the two of you for a moment, watching as dan heng clutches you to his chest like you’ll disappear if he let go, as you hold a palm to your neck where the thinnest line of red bleeds through. his eyes narrow, and the only other indication of emotion in his face is the slightest downturn of his lips.

“i’ll be back,” blade says, and then there’s that cruel smile on his face again, a taunting glint in his eye as he looks at dan heng. “i’ve stolen your little eternity countless times before. what’s one more to the tally?”

dan heng growls, his grip tightening on cloudpiercer, “you damned—!”

but then blade’s already making his exit, leaping off the platform in a manner that gives you deja vu.

( a memory flashes in your mind, the image of him jumping off your balcony as jing yuan knocked on your bedroom door to make sure you were still asleep while dan feng dove under your bed for cover, a mundane moment of peace and carefreeness almost forgotten from where you had pushed it deep into crevices of your mind. )

i’ve stolen your little eternity countless times before. what’s one more to the tally?

after a breathless moment that seems to drag out for an eternity, dan heng’s arms finally uncurl from your frame, his eyes tracing your figure to make sure you’re unharmed. his eyes drag over the thin cut across your neck in an adagio, his breath hitching as he sees you bleeding the same colour of blade’s eyes.

“he didn’t kill me,” you breathe out. you don’t know why it’s only settling now. the relief is clear in your tone, but it’s obvious from the violent tremor of your hands that it’s only to mask your own uncertainty. "he didn't kill me."

dan heng is quiet. you’re too scared to look at him, at the expression on his face. you just stare at your shaking hands, and watch as he rests his palm over your own to soothe the tremors.

“he always had a soft spot for you,” dan heng whispers, something breaking in the tenor of his voice.

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hey-august · 5 months

Text

A Favor for the Captain - Chapter 2 | NSFW (Buggy x afab!reader)

→ Chapter 1

Description: The day after helping your captain with a favor, you end up stuck on night duty again. As much as Buggy wanted to avoid you and his feelings, he still has something he needs your help with. Word count: ~2.3k A/N: This is the last chapter for this story. Sorry it took so long, perfectionism and imposter syndrome fight dirty, lol. I hope you enjoy this! Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x afab!reader, no use of Y/N, dry humping, heavy petting, buggy is still bad at feelings and communicating. All parties are consenting adults. Tags: @angeli-fucking-cat

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You woke up the next day as restless as the sea. Waves swayed the ship as you slept, rocking your body through memories of the night before, cloaked in dreams. A party of stars laughed and danced around you, each one burning brighter than the next, until they all exploded into darkness leaving you behind. Whispers of loneliness and confusion slipped away like sand as the mid-morning sun carried you to consciousness.

A big yawn and stretching didn’t shake the sleep from your body as efficiently as sharp knocks at the door, followed by words that flipped your stomach with an icy chill.

“Hey, you ‘wake? I need a favor.”

With the weight of an iceberg in your body, you cracked the door and were greeted by a face of desperation and hope worn by one of your crewmates. You slumped against the doorframe as relief melted the tension in your body. The pirate frantically explained that he was scheduled for night duty and needed to switch, but everyone he asked so far had refused. The reasoning was difficult to follow. There was something about a friend of their cousin, dancing, a dinner party, and not wanting to let down family. Once the pieces were cobbled together, you were able to see the whole puzzle.

“So, you don’t want to miss a date with a townie?” you asked bluntly.

“I mean- well- that’s a part of it. Ya’ see, I told him that…”

You cut off the rerun by agreeing to swap duties - one overnight shift for two bathroom cleaning shifts. After an appreciative handshake with both of his hands wrapped around one of yours, he bounced off to prepare for the date. His jubilant exit left you wondering if you should have bargained for a better deal. At least this gave you a reason to look for the meteor shower again. You ignored the pit in your stomach, choosing to believe it was from the last-minute changes and not related to anything else that might involve stars or favors.

With only a half-day left before your shift, you headed to town for food and freedom. Elsewhere, someone breathed easier knowing that you were no longer on the ship. It was only a coincidence that the captain was watching the dock when you departed. He’s responsible for his crew and should monitor who comes and goes - that’s what Buggy told himself. Truthfully, he kept finding reasons to stay near portholes so that he could look for you without the risk of getting too close.

Buggy felt dirty. Shame had him in a vice grip - stuck between remorse about what happened and guilt because he enjoyed it. Commitment to the crew had you willingly follow your captain’s filthy, degrading orders. Every lecherous detail - the way you felt, how you sounded, your sinful expressions - was etched into his memory. Yet, he still wanted more. For that reason, he also wanted to avoid you.

The second desire was bypassed when Buggy went to check on the night guard. Unaware of the shift change, he didn’t expect to see you lounging against the railing, back to the sea. Most of the crew opted to stay on shore when they weren’t working, and the rare few who did come back only returned to sleep. Unfortunately for Buggy, you were awake, alone, and alert. Despite darkness flooding the deck, the captain was in clear view. What fucking luck. He considered a wordless exit, but before he could retreat, you called out to him.

“Good evening, Captain.”

A simple greeting. One that tugged at his achy heart and added to the guilty pressure he felt. He knew that walking away would only add to the restlessness. Pulling courage from the part of him that was glad to have an excuse to be near you, Buggy walked over to return the greeting. He joined you in leaning along the railing, foolishly hoping that your presence might actually pacify the turmoil in his body.

The tension radiating from your captain mirrored the nervousness you felt. It was obvious you startled him and you didn’t know why. Not exactly. Did he want to see someone else? Was he trying to avoid you? Both questions were similar and neither offered comfort. You stared at the illuminated town, hoping to find clarity in your tangled thoughts. The ambient sound of waves from the sandy shore and trickles of music emphasized the silence on the ship.

“On guard duty, again?” Buggy repeated his questioning from last night, feeling stuck in the stillness between you two.

You wondered if that was the answer you were looking for. The captain of the ship wasn’t aware of who was protecting the ship and expected to see someone else. That sounded reasonable and the thought made your heart lighter.

“Yeah, I was asked to swap shifts. Something about going on a date,” you explained while waving a hand towards town.

“You- going on a date?” The question cannonballed out of the pirate’s mouth faster than he thought it, along with an uncontrolled glare. Both were met with a confused look.

“Not me… I just swapped shifts,” you responded with a softness that disarmed him.

Buggy nodded silently, his jealousy collapsing into humiliation. Unlike yesterday, being near you was anything but peaceful. Each piece of him was screaming to get closer and he could hardly control himself. Everything he did or said added to the rubble of guilt he was trapped under.

“It gives me another chance to look for shooting stars, though.” You continued talking, desperate to move past the awkward miscommunication by clinging to one topic that felt safe.

“I guess you haven’t seen any yet. If I knew you were here, I woulda came prepared.” Buggy picked up on your unspoken cue. Following the script, he aimed a finger towards the sky above the town and cocked his hand back as he let loose an imaginary shot.

“Well, there’s always next time.” And with that, the space between you two shrank.

Buggy marveled at how you handled his clumsy conversational skills with ease. Each step he took with uncertainty or pushed by feelings he couldn’t handle, you redirected until he was on the path he really wanted. One that he could pretend he was walking with you, hand in hand.

“You don’t mind being stuck on the ship while the island is all freaked out?” Buggy chuckled when you groaned at his choice of words.

“Not at all, actually. I like it here…I like the ocean.” You turned your back to the town and spoke to the water’s horizon. “I also don’t mind helping out when I can. I’m just glad to be part of your crew.”

His crew. You watched Buggy in the corner of your eyesight, hoping he understood what you were telling him. Nerves had you dancing around the subject, afraid to get too close to the fire burning in your chest. But the light and the heat were too much to ignore or keep inside.

The spark you sent his way ignited thoughts that were far too flammable. Fragile ideas that housed his insecurities. Buggy heard that you liked to help the crew. That must be why you indulged him yesterday - you simply wanted to help the captain of the crew you belong to. Anything beyond that was a shadow puppet cast by his desire and used to chase away loneliness. Something inside the pirate clung to that puppet, begging Buggy to say the words that would let the errant fire consume him entirely. He listened to that small voice and chose to believe the ache in his body was just physical desire.

“In that case, I need you to help me with something,” Buggy said before stepping behind you.

The familiar tone in his voice had your heart pounding wildly. A similar sensation was mirrored down lower as Buggy pressed his body against yours. With gloved hands holding the railing on each side, you were surrounded. Buggy rested his head on the back of yours as he fitted his body around your form, only softening when you eased into his touch.

You weren’t surprised by his hardness this time. Actually, you may have surprised Buggy with how you accepted his request. His grip on the railing tightened as you pressed your ass against his erection to make sure it was nestled and snug.

“Is this what you need help with, Captain?” You hoped the shake in your voice was unnoticeable. A nod against the back of your head confirmed both hopes, so you began to grind against him.

Buggy’s face was buried in your hair and the roll of your ass against his cock took away what little breath he had left. In need of fresh air, he moved his head until his cheek was resting on your shoulder. Now he could clearly hear the quiet huffs you let out as you rolled your hips. The sweet sounds enticed his body to buck against yours, making the soft sounds crescendo into throaty moans that you tried to hold back. Craving more, Buggy pressed his lips against your neck. Your skin was hot and smelled delicious. He needed a taste.

The feel of his tongue and heavy breath on your neck sent electricity through your body. Every nerve was lit up, lighting the way for instinct to come and overtake your mind and body. The slide of Buggy’s cock against your ass did nothing for how your body desperately craved more. Your underwear was soaked and you could feel the slickness as you angled your hips to grind against his entire length. The slippery feeling filled your head with images of his thick cock sliding deep into your dripping cunt before fucking you like an animal.

“C-captain, can I-” Your words were cut off as a hand flew up and squeezed your cheeks, silencing you like the night before. Frustrated, you snatched Buggy’s hand off your face and shoved it between your legs.

“I wanna come,” you whined as you pressed his fingers against your clothed folds until there was contact with your needy clit. You guided his movements, making his digits circle and massage exactly where you needed them.

Buggy’s hips stuttered, before moving to a rhythm that your unrestrained sounds orchestrated. His thrusts were hard, wedging his aching cock in your ass and helping him imagine he was fucking your pussy. Imagining how it would hold and squeeze him, as if it didn’t want his cock to leave. As if it belonged there. As if he belonged with you. Giving in to those feelings, Buggy smothered your neck and shoulder with sloppy kisses in between mindless moans that tickled your skin.

His impassioned attention was fierce and intense, overwhelming you until your body gave in with a loud cry. Trembling against your captain, ecstasy took over. Your blissed-out sounds and movements carried Buggy with you. His hand continued rubbing your clit under your shaky grasp as you both rode through your climaxes.

Eventually, his movements stilled and your sounds quieted down. Buggy’s chest pressed against your back with each heavy breath. His hand returned to the railing, taking its warmth away. He felt weak, both physically and mentally. Seeing, hearing, feeling your orgasm against his body was more than he ever hoped for, but it only happened because you were following your captain’s orders. Because you’re a nice person.

“That felt good…I’m glad you needed my help.” Your breathless voice cut through the noise in Buggy’s head, but didn’t bring comfort.

“Don’t say that,” he snapped with a little more bite than he meant. He didn’t really need your help, he just took advantage of your willingness to help.

“Why?” you asked as you turned to face him, despite being caged by his arms.

Buggy avoided your gaze, wishing that his body would finish recovering so he could leave. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have. He would rather have his perverted memory tainted by self-pity, not by vulnerability or because he hurt your feelings.

Cautiously, you placed a hand on one of his before picking it up. You removed his glove and repeated the question, breaking through the wall he hid behind. Green eyes finally met your gaze as he succumbed to your request for sincerity.

“You were just following orders. Doing something nice for the captain of your crew,” he spat. “Saying that kind of shit might make me think that I could be more than just your ‘captain.’”

The words hardly left his mouth before they were replaced by your lips. You pressed into the kiss, ignoring how his mouth twitched with words that died under the contact. Pulling back, you were greeted with eyes opened wide in shock and you had to hold in a giggle.

“You can think that. I would like it if you were more than that…if this was something more.”

Buggy studied your face, looking for any hint of a joke. Deep inside, he knew you wouldn’t tease him like this. You refused to waver under his scrutinizing stare, holding fast until he accepted your unabashed confession.

“Me?” he finally croaked out. You nodded in response so quickly that Buggy felt butterflies fill his chest with the same eagerness.

You watched patiently as he leaned in, hesitated, and then closed the space for another kiss. This one was messy and full of nervous excitement. Buggy started talking against your lips long before he pulled away.

“M’gonna extend the stay.” He planted kisses on your cheeks. “You’re also off guard duty - there are more important things that you should be doing than this.”

“Like you?” He set you up for the response and you couldn’t resist sending it back with a grin.

Buggy could have sworn he fell into the sea and died. Even if that had happened, his oxygen-deprived mind couldn’t have concocted a story like this.

Before he could say another word, something caught his attention. Buggy twirled you around and tilted your head up towards a shooting star. Your shout of joy seemed to encourage more stars to begin their journeys and soon the sky was full of dazzling light - a beautiful show for two.

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x you #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #buggy smut #buggy the clown smut #one piece smut #x reader

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derangedanomaly · 5 months

Note

so, what if you do a Comedian reader x Classic, Nightmare, Cross, Dust, and Killer?

(You can add horror if you want, I just would've guessed he'd be delusional to the jokes the reader makes)

AU SANSES X COMEDIAN READER

(Classic, Nightmare, Cross, Dust, Killer)

Classic:

Oh, looks like Sans found his soulmate!

The first time you told him a joke, he swore that he fell in love. Even more when you told him more.

There's never a dull moment between you two! Always cracking up jokes. (Papyrus might be going a little crazy from your puns 💀)

Is going on all of your comedy shows. Every. single. one. Don't worry, he wouldn't miss this, EVER. In return for him going on your shows, you're going to his! :)

Slowly, but surely, becomes your fan. He has your jokes memorized at this point.

No matter how much he's heard your jokes, he'll always laugh.

You give each other tips for jokes. (Each one more ridiculous, but you guys find it funny 💀)

Well, what else can I say? You're just two cuties.

Nightmare:

Rolls his eyes at your jokes. Is really not all that impressed...

Nightmare's more of a fan of dark humor, so the right way to get to him, is by telling him a dark joke.

Trust me, it'll take EVERYTHING in him to not laugh at that joke.

You decided to take on the challenge. Beginning your plan to make the king of darkness laugh.

You send many dark jokes his way, which cracked him up. But he was still holding back.

After this, he got curious and decided to go to see your comedy show. It wasn't really for him, since he doesn't share the same sense of humor, but it wasn't that bad. (Bro's actually complimenting you? 😯)

From this day forward, he'll be going to your shows undercover. (Doesn't want to get caught lacking 💀)

Cross:

Bros a lil emo, so he'll probably act like your puns are not growing on him. (They are)

You once offered to take him to see your comedy show. He denied. 🙄

After you left to your show, Cross literally LEAPED from the couch and ran to see your show! He just needed to know if your jokes are as hilarious on stage as it is in real life.

He can't lie...but he laughed his ass off over there.

He immediately paid for the next show, with you not finding out he was even there!

He can't let you know that he's really not all that mysterious! That would be embarrassing.. ;)

Loves your puns! But you'll never find out.

Killer:

He's that one type of monster to yell; "LMAO, LMFAO, LOL" out loud. His cringe ass always gets you💀🙏🏻

He'll be so proud of you! Look at you, running your own shows, bringing people joy. He's so supportive.

"YOU SEE THAT HUMAN UP THERE!? THAT'S MY HUMAN!"

You would often find yourself embarrassed on stage cause of him...

The first time he found out about you having a show, he immediately wanted to see! (Even after you denied him multiple times)

He never stops encouraging you after that. It's always one praise after another. (I need him in my life bro 😭)

Is willing to punch someone just for you, so if there would be someone creepy, trying to get a feel of you, he won't hesitate to kill him.

Dust:

He's probably the one that encouraged you to start your own show.

Look, maybe he's a little emo...but he's not that big of an emo to not at least let out laughs at your jokes.

Out of all the bad sanses, Dust is probably the one that's the most closest to his original self. (Classic) So it's not a big surprise when he starts saying his own jokes back to you.

He was the one that also helped you make your dream into reality. (Since it was his idea.)

Truly proud of you when you're on stage. Also compliments you, but not as much as Killer. Look, he doesn't wanna embarrass you. 🤷‍♀️

"Hey, you see that human up there, on the stage? The star of the show??" "Uhm...yeah?" "Heh.. that's my partner.." Cue the scene of Dust looking up at you, with a dorky look on his face. "WHAT?!"

Your fans were never the same after that. You and Dust became the targets of what's called, shipping.

Not like Dust wasn't enjoying the thought of you two being a thing ;)

#sans undertale #sans x reader #undertale #undertale fandom #nightmare sans x reader #dust sans x reader #killer sans x reader #cross sans x reader

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moodymisty · 5 months

Note

Listen I know the wall husbands heads are full of concrete but I'm interested in what you could do with a black templar

Maybe having a cleric darling (Thinking more of a lay person vs someone like a sister of battle) so there can be some delicious religious subtext

But I also know some black templars are very much into seeing when normal baseline humans can overcome the odds and rise above with their own zeal.

Maybe she isn't a combatant but by the God Emperor she will help out however she can even if it is just passing him boltgun magazines.

I got ideas for Black Templars but they're all over the place! Maybe you can make more sense of my ramblings and since it's still on the brain it could be Yandere or not just however you can make a Black Templar with a Darling work

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: So... I went apeshit. I apologize. I just fucking love doing religious subtext and whatnot. Also the frail maiden with her knight. Combining them? Awooga. Like this is my dream prompt. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: His thumb presses against your lips, and your mouth opens. You can taste the metal on your tongue, like bitter iron. His hand despite being so inhumanly large is so dextrious and gentle, and the thoughts that enter your mind are sickening.

Relationships: Unnamed Black Templar/Fem!Reader (there aren't pronouns used but the lady/knight vibe is super intense)

Warnings: A smidge lewd but not NSFW, Vague traditional gender roles-like talk (being gentle/needing to be protected etc), Religious under(over)tones, Forbidden romance undertones, Vague yandere/yandere beginnings, Armor kink if you squint, Brief mentions of blood and murder, General 40kness

Word Count: 2209 oops uwu

Ceramite boots thud against the floor like the thunder overhead, echoing in the high, vaulted ceilings.

He hears a tile crack underneath his right boot as he shifts his weight onto it mid-step.

He was always heavier than his brothers. His armor had to be adjusted three different times to fit him as he outgrew it.

'Leave him, he’s off to go for his prayers, and to stalk the locals.’

His one battle brother had laughed at the other’s comment, as he left them all behind to return to the cathedral. It's far from his first time here, in these sanctified halls. He finds himself returning here after almost every patrol, every outing, every moment alone.

His armor shifts with his movement, and he rolls his left shoulder during his walk. He’s had the armor fixed after a stray round hit him in the shoulder, but it still feels off. Like the motion is ever so slightly delayed in comparison to his other interface ports.

He'll get it looked at again. For now he has a different pursuit.

It’s the dead of the night, moon high in the sky as he walks through the nave past pews filled with nothing but air. At this time of night he knows it will only be you here, keeping candles lit and rolling scrolls. A stray servoskull might flutter past every now and again, but other than that, you remain in complete solitude.

No distractions, no needless fluff. You're always busy, fluttering about, making yourself useful where you can. You aren't able to fight, not this threat, but your obedience in cleaning armor- weapons when an Astartes allows- and other such duties has earned you enough to stay where your fellows have left.

Many of the other human refugees have been shipped off at this point, to become the Militarium's logistical problem. You and a few others however have earned your keep. At least in the eyes of the Black Templars.

You'll be far safer here than in a Militarium camp stuffed in with hundreds to thousands of others; Like animals waiting to be shipped off world.

You'll be far safer here with him.

There you are. He can spot you from across the cathedral, and a part of him wonders why it has such an effect on him. His hearts beat faster and his neck tenses; It feels like how he does whenever he's about to fight, but also distinctly different. It almost makes him feel like he's sick from an illness he can't explain.

The moment you hear him however, knowing the sound of an astartes this late and this far away from his brothers could only be him, your back straightens. You've been leaning over for awhile, and your body makes uncooperative cracks as you stand at his approach.

He stops in front of you, at the bottom of the ambulatory steps that rise up to the main altar. You stand at the top of them, quickly moving aside so he can come closer. When he does, you can feel his gaze through the lens of his helmet. It always feels heavy, even when his helmet isn't tilted you way you swear you can feel whenever his eyes are on you.

With both hands he unseals his helmet with a soft hiss, grasping it by the rim before handing it to you. It’s almost too heavy for your grip, but you manage to hold it close to your chest and avoid dropping it. Meanwhile he takes a knee, elbow on his knee as he drops his head in prayer.

His chainsword shifts on his back, over top of a long, tattered cape that's stained with mud and blood at the bottom hem. Astartes don't leave their armor during war, and so the cloth holds the weeks long stench of iron and rotting flesh. It simply burns however, until a few minutes later and then you can no longer smell. For the best, more than likely.

The cathedral is cast in complete silence, his shoulders shifting underneath plates of ceramite. He always is whenever he prays, unlike his brothers in the few times you've seen them. Perhaps it's just a quirk of his. Or maybe they're the odd ones.

Then again, they aren't the ones visiting an empty cathedral in the dead of night, only to meet a single person. Over and over again.

When he rises, he gently takes his helmet from your hands and latches it onto his belt. You speak up for the first time since he appeared.

"Have you made good progress out there? The weather seems to only be getting worse."

He looks down at you; His short, hastily chopped hair dry and pressed in odd places from the pressure of his helmet. It's mostly dry now, but you can tell it was wet not long ago. He must've taken his helmet off in the rain and was instantly soaked to the bone.

"The Emperor watches over us. We will prevail despite the deluge."

Said deluge batters on the tall glass windows of the cathedral, and thunder cracks not much later. The sound gives you a momentary jolt. This particular storm has been going all day, but the area has been battered with rainstorms for weeks now on and off. It might not slow them down, but you can see dried chunks of mud where they've had to trudge through it to progress. Most of it is washed away on him now, the rain having cleaned his armor significantly.

Your hands grasp each other tightly, no longer having his helmet to act as some sort of grounding.

"I tried to pray like you do, this morning." His eyes noticeably brighten ever the slightest, as your voice echos in the empty cathedral. "I wanted to pray to the Emperor that you stayed safe out there."

You don't know if he finds it amusing; But the corner of his mouth quirks upward ever so slightly anyways.

"Then pray for our victory, not our safety. What matters is that we succeed," He states.

You hear the mechanics in his armor shift as he leans slightly more on his left leg than right. It's like the armor is simply an extension of himself, and you suppose it is.

He is the first astartes you've even seen, so your knowledge is sparse. A small part of you has so many questions you'd wish to ask him, not knowing if he'd even entertain you with an answer.

You're fascinated by him; You wonder if he thinks the same of you. The way he acts lends you to think so, but you don't know how to feel about it.

In the corner of your eye you notice movement, and turn to the right just a bit and see someone walking across the nave. But when they catch sight of you and one of the Black Templars, the scurry out of the main hall like death was on their heels.

It isn't the first time someone has made a conscious effort to avoid you, now that you have an astartes taking such an interest in you. People are keen to spend as little time around them as possible- as despite them being the primary source protecting you all, they have more than displayed their fickle nature. One misspoken word and you could be gone. It's happened before. You know of a few faces that have disappeared with little a word.

You must look away from him for too long, as suddenly his armored hand grasps your jaw, turning your face back to him. The awkward angle due to his height makes your neck ache, and you grasp at the seams of his gauntlet for any sort of support.

"Are you going to try and run like they did?"

He says, watching you like he's looking for something more than a simple answer.

You wonder what he sees. If he notices the way your heart has begun to race in fear and something else, as he overtakes your vision. That something else was only for those rare moments of solitude where your reasoning left you, and your mind wandered to areas it shouldn't. If you'd known any better, you might've thought such things were blasphemous, or something of the sort.

Suddenly, you remember that he's waiting for an answer; You watch as the scars on his face move when he shifts his jaw.

"No."

He takes a step closer and with no more room your back presses against the altar just behind you. You risk nearly bending over it from how close he is, his dominant leg taking root just close enough that your legs have to part to let his knee past.

The shadow of the window mullions decorate the back of his armor, the light making the shadows against his face even harsher. You can even see the shadows of large rain droplets against his pauldrons, sliding down as if they've actually fallen on him. You can hear them hit the glass as the wind whistles outside and rattles the glass.

You watch him wondering; His eyes and face are completely unreadable. Astartes are so stoic, any little emotion is held invisible deep within themselves. Trying to figure out what he's thinking is an impossible task, though it's clear the interest he has in you is no longer just curiosity. That thought makes your heart pound against your chest as if it's trying to escape, your blood hot.

His thumb presses against your lips, and your mouth opens. You can taste the metal on your tongue, like bitter iron. His hand despite being so inhumanly large is so dextrious and gentle, and the thoughts that enter your mind are sickening.

It feels like he's toying with you; Experimenting with something new as he watches the way your soft skin gives under his armor. Your hands and gentle skin have faint crumbles of candle wax and ink on them from your work, as they grasp his armor.

You're terrified. You want more of him. You'll be happy to burn if that's what it requires.

"You'll come with me, when we are finished here."

You whisper his name, telling him yes as if you were foolish enough to think you had a choice in the matter. No one but him is here to hear it.

If someone was you wouldn't be able to see them from the way his massive armored form overtakes almost all of your vision, swallowing you in a sea of shadow and pitch black armor. They would see as he leans down, his thumb leaving your lips. You can feel his hot breath on your skin. The way he almost seems to suffocate you with how much of his body looms over you, just to get close. You can hear your own heartbeat so you just know he can, his eyes dilated and nearly total black.

Your back hurts pressing against the edge of the altar, feeling vulnerable underneath his unreadable stare. The fabric of your clothing bunches in places and rises up on your body, catching on the seams of his leg plates. His armor might be cold, but astartes run hot; Like their blood is boiling, so beneath that metal chill is the heat from the skin visible on his face and neck. You think if the cathedral was any colder, his hot breath would be visible.

His lips hover over yours, brushing as if he's so thoroughly detailing every step of this. Savoring each moment, or perhaps just toying with you. Watching the way a human so much smaller than him writhes under his grip at his mercy. You want to finish it, but the hand clamped around your jaw won't allow you, as much as you want to yearn and beg and plead to k-

'Brother. Return from toying with the refugees, the chaplain has returned with an update.'

Suddenly audible is a deep voice shaken by vox distortion emanating from his helmet; His head turns ever so slightly in it's direction. The bow of his upper lip brushes over yours as he does so. His brow furrows and he seems visibly irritated, interrupted during the worst possible time. You are as well, though it's more of desperation as you try to silence the way the your body aches for just him.

But as quick as it had begun it all ends, as he rises to his full height and removes his hand from your jaw. It complains with the promise of a hefty bruising, as he uses the same gauntlet to one handed slip his helmet back onto his head.

You can feel him stare at you even through the lenses, as he shifts in his armor and walks past where you stand splayed against the altar, clothes a mess. Your legs wobble as if about to give out from underneath you without his support, a weight like a rock in your lower belly.

He walks down the ambulatory in silence and leaves you alone once more, but you know it won't be for long.

#if you want me to name him and design him feel free to say! but for now you can make him the astartes ken doll of your dreams #warhammer 40k x reader #space marine x reader #black templar x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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rainintheevening · 1 month

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The day 19-year-old Peter Pevensie ships out for the Mediterranean, lieutenant's commission and a COs commendation in hand, he's all tall, golden boy in British khaki with a soft smile and a merry laugh and oddly old eyes.

His socks are hand-knitted, with his initials PWP worked in around the top. He wears a small golden lion on a leather string around his neck, tucked under his shirt alongside his dogtags.

In his kit bag he carries a Bible, new, brown leather, not too big to be jammed in a pocket. The writing on the first page is tidy, a little squared off, no blots: June 1943, Peter, my brother, my captain, my king. We are all held safe between the paws of the Lion. Ephesians 6:10-18.

Tucked in beside that is a small, chunky book of Spurgeon's sermons, with Prof. Digory Kirke in the corner of the flyleaf, and a loose-leaf of paper that Peter uses for a bookmark, precious though it is, covered in his father's barely legible scratch.

There's a hand-bound book of poems, copied by Lucy and collected with several of Susan's watercolours, all trees like old friends and flowers like stars and rolling English hills. It will take months for those pages to stop smelling like home.

Next to that is tucked a sturdy little journal, pencil attached and fat with empty cream-coloured pages. It will take only a week for it to lose its clean smell, and the many words scribbled there will make it fatter still.

Three others are piled in around those—a beat-up hardback novel stripped of its dust jacket and stamped as White Fang, a bright new George MacDonald novel with Be brave, my son, and may the adventure always bring you safely home. Mother penned inside, and another naked hardback identified along its spine as The Aeneid.

Some eyebrows get raised at the extra weight of that library, but Peter is charming and humble, and he'll be the only one to suffer from it anyway.

A little more than two years later Peter Pevensie will return with a captain’s epaulets on his shoulders, and the same soft smile on a leaner, browner face.

He will be wearing an entirely different pair of socks, but still ones that have PWP worked into the stripes along the top.

The leather string will be gone, and so will the little gold lion, folded into a shaking hand, given with a murmured prayer and a kiss pressed to salty fevered forehead, somewhere on the side of an Italian mountain.

The books will be nearly all there. The Bible, wrinkled with water damage, fingerprinted with little dark smears, it's cover scored with a smokey black streak. The poetry, cared for so carefully; the sermons, well earmarked and notated; the MacDonald novel now sans dust jacket, spine cracked, and with grit worked into its creases.

The Aeneid will still be there, though greatly altered thanks to the bullet buried in the upper half of it.

White Fang will be missing, left in the hands of a wildly curious, dream-eyed Arab boy, who will pick up English like a starving man picks up food, and will cry when the Fighting Fifth gets shipped back to Italy. There will be a black and white photograph tucked into its pages— four soldiers surrounding a tall, fair-haired one with a thin dark-headed boy standing high atop his shoulders, arms raised as if he would fall forward into flight, all smiling.

Peter will carry the journal home in his pocket, all muddy and smoky, all smeared with pencil lead and sweat, bloody fingerprints on a few pages, heavy with a thousand and one thoughts, the unburdening of his heart, all ready to be placed in his brother’s hands.

Peter Pevensie will return like his books, with dirt in the creases, a little worn, a little tattered, a little scarred. But his wise old (kingly) eyes... they shine the same way when he smiles, sun in his golden hair.

#peter pevensie #ww2 #books #narnia fanfiction #my writing #i have been working this one out in my head for a few days now. finally got it to work.#also i LOVE researching ww2 #narnia #oh and i gave him the middle name william

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bluesylveon2 · 10 months

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600 Follower Special: Holding Out For a Villain ft. the first years

This is a gift to my followers as a thank you for making it to 600 followers! This is my take on Yuu getting kidnapped and having the first years save her. Enjoy!

Summary: When Yuu gets shipped off to an all-girls school, it is up to the first years to save her. What can go wrong?

Note: platonic first years x Yuu/reader, crack, chaos, humor, and the author not being good at naming things

Warning: not beta read and possible ooc characters

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist: here

CRASH

"Ugh, five more minutes Grim." Yuu groaned and buried her face in her pillow, letting her eyes drift off once more…

WOOSH

"Ah!" Yuu screamed as her blanket was rudely taken away from her. She opened her eyes to find her window broken, glass scattered across the floor (she could not wait to hear Vil crying over his masterpiece), and Crowley grinning at her.

"Good morning, Prefect! I have a big surprise for you because I am so generous!"

"Can't this wait until later today?" Yuu asked, pulling the blanket over her head. Her mind was begging her to go back to bed.

Crowley shook his head. "No, no. In fact, you are going to a new school!"

Yuu uncovered her face. "A what?"

Crowley wiped a tear from his yellow eyes. "You sound so excited already! The school is an all-girls school called Royal Princess Institute."

Yuu's mind was finally awake at the revelation. "You signed me up for another school?"

"Yes, and you are going right now!" Crowley randomly pulled out a large brown sack, big enough for one of the Leech twins.

"WHAT?!" Yuu's vision became dark. She kicked and punched everywhere but, to her avail, was only met by a cloth.

"Have fun!"

---

"Yuu! Yuu!!! YUU!!!" Grim called out as he entered the shared bedroom. His eyes landed on the empty but disarrayed bed; no human in sight. "Yuu!" The cat monster jumped on the bed, searching for his friend, only to find her discarded phone lying on the nightstand. Grim picked up the phone, trying to figure out what to do.

"Do I call a teacher? Her friends? What do I do?"

"Grim, is that you?" One of the ghosts asked, entering the room. "Did something happen?"

"Yuu is missing, and she left her phone!"

"Oh, I see. Crowley came by this morning telling her some news. Something about her going to a new school."

Grim's eyes widen in fear, and he felt his heart break. Did his human not care for him? Was she tired of him? He wanted to apologize for their massive tuna budget and would gladly cut it if she returned.

The ghost sensed fear coming off of Grim's fur. "Don't worry. It was unexpected, and Yuu didn't have much say in it."

Grim let out a sigh of relief. "Which means…she was kidnapped?!" The ghost nodded, and Grim felt the fear come back.

He needed to do something and fast.

---

Moments like these would cause Grim to gather up the best of the best. An elite team, if you will, of the brightest students of NRC. A group of people who could barge in and save Yuu from the dangers of the pink and glitter of an all-girls school when she should be back in NRC, surrounded by many teenage boys (with trauma, might he add) who overblot every month.

It was clearly obvious which one was the favorite.

And who was the dream team? A group who could slip in and out without suspicion? The all-star, Avengers-level (Grim had no idea who these people were, but Yuu mentioned them once. Maybe they were a band?) group that would save the Prefect?

The first years.

Well, what the first years should be. Grim began doubting his choice as Ace and Deuce fought over something meaningless. Jack watched them disapprovingly, Epel was happily chatting with Ortho, and Sebek was talking about Malleus. Just an average day in NRC.

Maybe he should have consulted a second year like Riddle about this. Or beg one of the third years like Leona to help.

"Oi! We have a very important topic to discuss."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to the cat monster.

"What is it?" Epel asked.

"You better not be asking for money to buy tuna?" Deuce frowned, but Grim shook his head.

"It's about Yuu. She has been kidnapped and is forced to go to an all-girls school!"

Anyone could see the six brain cells processing everything. They were all imagining Yuu wearing poofy dresses and being covered in glitter.

"WHAT?!!"

"WHY?!"

"Who knows?" Grim replied, tears forming in his eyes. "Yuu must be in danger! Who knows what kind of stiff frilly dresses she might be wearing?"

"I understand the feeling," Epel said, recalling the times Vil had him wear the tightest outfits known to man.

"Exactly! This is why we must save her before it is too late."

Jack crossed his arms and looked at Grim expectedly. "And how are we going to do that?"

"We could send in someone to infiltrate the school…" All eyes landed on Epel, who furiously shook his head.

"NO! Y'all are not gonna send me to that darn school!"

Ace grinned. "Why not? You already look the part."

Epel looked at the redhead with a glare similar to Vil's. "What did you just say?"

"I said. You. Look. Like. A. Girl."

Epel saw red. "Oh, that's it!" He lunged at Ace, only to be stopped by Jack. The boy kicked and screamed in Jack's grasp.

"I think that is a horrible idea," Sebek said, and Ortho agreed.

"I think we should blow up the school. I have a feature Big Brother added that can-"

"NO!" Everyone screamed, including Epel, who stopped flailing and lay still in Jack's arms.

Deuce slammed his hands against the table, a look of determination in his eyes. Grim smirked; it looked like Deuce had a big brain today.

"This is getting us nowhere. Look, I have an idea that might work.

---

The plan was simple: break in at night, grab Yuu, and run.

Why was there chaos as the first years ran back to the Magic Mirror?

Let's rewind.

After traveling long and far (read: they used the Mirror to get there), the group landed in front of a tall, sparkly, pink, and gold castle. The castle had one tall tower overlooking many smaller ones and a big wall surrounding it. There was also a drawbridge leading to the entrance.

"This looks like something Vil would like," Epel said aloud, and everyone nodded.

"I wonder how Yuu is surviving here? There is too much pink!" Ace exclaimed.

Grim was already imagining it. His precious human going through how to be a princess, what fork to use first, or balancing a book on her head. Oh, the poor thing!

"We need to save Yuu before she starts balancing books on her head!" Grim yelled, shaking the nearest person's (aka Deuce) head.

"I've scanned for Yuu's whereabouts, and it looks like she is right there," Ortho said, pointing at the tall tower.

Ace grinned. "Great! Now let's get her!" He said and marched into the castle. The group thought their plan was a piece of cake to disable the cameras, sneak into the school, locate Yuu's dorm, and take Yuu back. The group was walking down a hallway when Epel accidentally tripped and landed on Sebek. The school security was alerted of their presence after Epel and Sebek started arguing about who caused it. Grim facepalmed as Epel cursed loudly in his Harveston accent, and Sebek yelled at the Pomefiore boy.

Which led to their current situation.

Ace and Deuce rode on Jack in his wolf form through the castle. Ace told him where to go while Deuce carried a sleeping Yuu in his arms.

Ortho teamed up with Sebek and used their magic to hold off their pursuers.

And Epel?

He was busy holding Grim out like a weapon and used the cat monster's fire to ward off the many girls asking what his skincare routine looked like. Epel cursed Vil out for making his skin flawless. At least he and Sebek put their earlier argument aside.

"We need to get out of here!" Deuce yelled.

"We are trying to!" Ace replied.

"Get away from me, you girls! Back away!" Epel yelled as he finally caught up to Jack and jumped on him with Grim. The boy immediately regretted not bringing some of Vil's products to his dorm to throw at them. They would react like a child with candy.

"We still have time to blast them out of oblivion," Ortho suggested.

"NO ORTHO!" The boys yelled, causing Yuu to shift in her sleep. Seriously, how was she sleeping through all of that?

Ortho sighed in defeat. "You guys are no fun."

The group swerved through different teachers and almost returned to where the Mirror stood. They were a reasonable distance away until Grim held out his paw.

"Look! They're raising the bridge!" Both ends of the drawbridge were slowly coming up.

Ace looked at the mob and the bridge. There were only a few seconds to decide until they were stuck in the school. "We might have to jump."

Deuce looked at him like he was a madman. "Jump?! Are you crazy?"

"Trust me." Ace turned to Ortho and Sebek. "On my signal, I want you two to create a diversion." The two nodded and continued holding the mob off. "You know what to do, Jack."

"Of course," Jack said and sped up. The bridge was getting higher the closer the group got.

"Hold on tight, you guys!" Ace called back to Deuce and Epel. "NOW!" He yelled to others.

"Finally!" Ortho exclaimed. He and Sebek combined their magic to create a beam using Ortho's and Sebek's lighting. As their magic created an explosion to stop their pursuers, Jack used his momentum to climb up the raised bridge to jump.

The group landed on the other side as Ortho flew in with Sebek.

"We did it!" Ace whooped and high five the first years.

"That's great, but I think we should run," Deuce said, pointing at the mob, who was currently trying to lower the bridge.

"Agreed. Let's make a run for it."

And at the end of the day, the first year group saved Yuu and returned to the school. Yuu woke up and did not question how she came back, and the other first years made Crowley promise that she would stay in NRC.

Everyone found peace for the rest of the school year.

Except….

Riddle drank his tea as Cater and Trey were sitting around nearby. The redhead was enjoying the peace when Cater suddenly gasped.

"No way!"

Riddle raised an eyebrow and looked at Trey for an answer, to which the vice-housewarden only shrugged. Riddle sighed and set his cup down. "What are you looking at, Cater?"

"Take a look at this!" Cater held his phone to Riddle's face to show a post on Magicam. The post was talking about a commotion at Royal Princess Institute. "You need to see who's in the picture."

Riddle felt a familiar feeling go through his body as he read the post. He continued scrolling until he saw NRC mentioned. "What is going on here?" The redhead took Cater's phone and continued reading. He ignored most of the unimportant information until he saw the photo. A big white wolf was in the center with three familiar boys and a cat monster riding its back. In the background was another familiar duo; one was flying, while the other was next to some lighting.

Riddle felt a vein pop out in his forehead. "ACE! DEUCE! IT'S OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!"

Meanwhile, as the other housewardens discovered the news and the first years were getting reprimanded, Yuu slept peacefully on her bed with Grim.

"Yuu, we need more tuna," Grim said while shifting in his sleep, unaware of the chaos outside Ramshackle.

At least the window was fixed.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst first years #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #ortho shroud #sebek zigvolt #twst grim #platonic ace x reader #platonic deuce x reader #platonic jack x reader #platonic epel x reader #platonic ortho x reader #platonic sebek x reader

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cosmic-crybaby · 7 months

Text

Break My Heart Again- Tommy Shelby x Reader

Part 2

Summary: After being childhood friends, you and Thomas made a promise one day to get married, but when he returns from France, he comes back a completely different man.

Warnings: ANGST, Tommy being a jerk, talk of trauma/death/etc. Platonic(?) betrayal.

It had been what seemed like weeks after the men were shipped off to France to fight in the war. When in reality, it had been only a week. [Name] had went back to work rather quickly, her mother preferring not to have her daughter mope around the house like a widow. So, she wrote her first letter to him.

Thomas,

You've just left us and it's already quiet here. Too quiet. The betting shop, the street, and the pub are all silent compared to the liveliness we were used to when you were home. When we came back from the platform, Polly, Ada, Martha, and I had walked in silence. Even Finn wasn't being his usual disorderly self. It's almost as if no one knew how to fill the silence. No one can fill the void that you three left.

In all honesty, I am scared. Terrified something will happen, and you won't return home to us. I want you to know how much I think about you, how much I need you to come home to me. I want you to be my first everything, I want you to keep that promise you made me before you left. Even now, as I write this letter, I stare at the ring on my finger, imagining how our future would be. We will pray for you every morning for a safe return.

Stay safe and please watch over each other. We are sending our love and prayers.

Sincerely, Your love [Name].

The whole of Small Heath seemed to be silent the first few days, but the women quickly took over while most of the men were gone. She had worked and worked everyday with the other women in the shop. Polly and Ada were strong women, and they were cracking down on the books like no other. They had involved themselves with their work that [Name] didn't expect her letter to come a few weeks later. Ada came running in with the post, handing her Aunt Polly the letters, and dropping Thomas' letter on the desk in front of her new close friend.

[Name] had never pulled out her letter opener so quickly. She nearly missed the blade as her hands shook to open it. The pages of parchment fell on the desk, unfolding it to read the letter he sent. Her colorful eyes went wide as she read the first page, heart fluttering and beating fast as she imagined his voice saying these words.

[Name],

When the train had left the station, I had already found myself missing home. We Small Heath boys sat together and no one knew what to say. We try to stay optimistic but news is that the odds are not in our favor. It hits harder the further we are from home. I am currently at a training camp, and even when my face is in the mud I still think of you. Your eyes, your smile, your voice. You visit me in my dreams, even when I'm in this hell you still feel like home.

No matter how long this will last, it will be difficult for you as it is for us. But Polly with take good care of you, you are no doubt a part of this family already. You will soon be a Shelby. I had never forgotten my promise to you. You are my dearest friend, and the most beautiful girl I had ever met. I knew from the day we met, you were special.

I will be safe [Name] I promise you that. We are going to make this out alive and you and I will get married and have our future together, building our legacy. Keep your thoughts clear and your mind positive until our return.

Until I write again my Love, Tommy.

The single tear ran down her cheek. Smiling a bit as she folded the paper again, placing it back in the envelope and into the drawer. Hearing Polly and Ada read the letters out loud from Arthur and John as they laughed through the sniffles. It made her lean back into her chair, looking up from the ring to the ceiling.

"[Name]! What did Tommy say?" Ada ran into her office, leaning on the door frame. [Name] turns to the younger Shelby sibling.

"Wouldn't you like to know," She teased with a light-hearted smirk.

"Come off it, lemme see!" Ada skipped to the desk, sitting down on top as [Name] gave in and took out the letter again, handing it to Ada. She smiles brightly as she read over the letter.

"Oh, [Name], that's so nice...I've never heard him be so...well, that before," She laughed. The girl tsked and grabbed the letters back from the Shelby.

"You'd be surprised, he's quite the romantic," She arched a brow at Ada.

"Yeah sure..." She shook her head.

"How are John and Arthur doing?" She had asked, putting the letters back.

"As good as they can be, [Name]...as good as they can be..." She paused. "Have you talked to Martha?" Ada asked. [Name] shook her head.

"Is she still sick?" She asked, her voice laced with worry.

"We think so, Polly's gonna visit her after work today, give her some medicine make sure she's okay, but just don't say anything to Tommy about it...She doesn't want John to worry," Ada explained.

"Of course, your secret is safe with me," Her lips formed into a tight lipped smile.

"I'll leave ya to write your letters," Ada hopped off of the desk and left her office. [Name] lets out a heavy sigh, moving the record books out of the way to pull the typewriter forward, placing the paper in before thinking of what exactly to write. How she could pour her feelings into one letter. Taking her fingers away from the keys to take a quick prayer, the same prayer that Polly taught all of the girls at the shop.

---

It had been years since the men from Small Heath had left. During those years, the two of them wrote letters back and forth as often as they could. At some point the letters began to slow. Anyone could imagine the reason why. In the last letter Tommy sent, he gave [Name] an idea of what he had to endure. The carnage and violence was only the beginning. The deaths he encountered, the injury and damage that had happened to him physically and mentally was enough to hurt her. Just from reading it. It was the middle of July of 1918. She was writing another letter to Thomas.

Thomas,

I received your letter last night. I miss you more than words can describe. Everything is starting to feel like normal again, as normal as is can be. I suppose the women taking over the jobs while most of the male population being away was the norm for the time being. It was still strange though. However, business has been slow recently. Ever since Martha had passed Polly and I had been taking turns to take care of the kids. Cooking for them and cleaning up after them nearly every day was just as hard as I imagined, Martha made it look so easy. Please give John my condolences once again and that we are thinking of him. And let me know how he is holding up.

The horses are looking healthy, Curly has been taking good care of them. My mother and I take walks in your uncles yard after dinner nearly every night just to see how the horses are doing, and so far he has been doing a wonderful job.

As much as I want to keep this letter forward-looking and cheerful, I do hope you are doing alright Tommy. The last letter you sent me had me worried for you. You told me you were going to be in charge of digging tunnels to bury explosives, I just hope you make it out alive. You had been there for me when my father had passed, and I hope you will let me be there for you after this is all over. Of course I have no real insight of what you are going through, but I hope you are safe. You were always so determined and strong. Make us proud, you always do.

Please give my love and support to your brothers.

Your Love, [Name].

It took months to receive a letter back. Longer than usual, but you didn't question it as you knew his job was hard, but you'd be lying if part of you didn't think the worst. But those clouds that plagued your mind were clear upon seeing his letter. It was a short one this time, but you imagined that he barely had any time to write these days.

[Name],

I am writing this by candlelight, Danny and Freddie doing the same. Writing wills and writing home. I have left everything I had to the family, you included. I'm sorry it's not much or what we had planned, but this is inevitable.

Knowing what's waiting at home encourages me and I will do my best to come out alive.

I will make sure to relay your kind words to John next time I see him.

Until I write again, SMG, Tommy.

Her hands shook as she read over the short letter. Again and Again she couldn't believe what he was saying. She set the letter in the desk drawer, along with the other piles of letters, before shutting it. She didn't want to believe it, not one bit. She was still hopeful that he would live. He even said 'Until I write again,'...but she didn't expect the letters to completely stop coming after that. No matter how many letters she had sent his way, she still didn't receive one back.

Weeks had passed, as Ada and Polly were receiving letters back to back every week, while [Name] came to an empty desk, but she never told them, afraid to hear if they received his letters as well or not. It made her heart hurt to think of the possibilities.

On November eleventh, a boy ran through the streets blaring the news. The war had ended. There was a shift in the air after the news broke of the war ending and the men finally returning home. The entirety of Small Heath seemed to be rushing to prepare for the return of the soldiers. Even Polly seemed increasingly distracted as she prepared for the return of her nephews, leaning on [Name] to review additional books and records. But tensions arise further as the official date was announced of the soldiers arrival.

Ada and the other girls grew giddier with each passing day, making [Name] just want to smack them. She was happy for them of course but, how could she witness their excitement for their men if she hadn't heard from hers in months. When the day finally arrived, it felt like the entire town was rushing to the station. Polly and Ada were waiting in anticipation for the train to arrive, while [Name] kept her brows stern in worry as she kept her gaze to the cement floor. She honestly had no idea what to expect. If he wasn't to return she would be heartbroken, if he was she would be confused by the cold shoulder he gave her. The sound of people cheering and screaming caught her attention as the train approached. Polly and Ada pushed their way forward as the train came to a stop. [Name] made sure to hold onto Finn as tight as she could so he wouldn't get lost in the crowd.

"Where are they?" Polly asked, excitement seeping in her voice.

"I dunno, [Name], do you see 'em?" Ada asked as she pulled her quiet friend along. Her eyes barely scanned the area as families reunited in tears, the boys finding their family members and just melting into their embrace.

"Um..." [Name] tried to get a better look, but the hordes of people blocked her vision.

"[Name]!" Ada called next to her...and she felt your heart drop. "I see them! Aunt Pol, look! There they are!"

[Name] couldn't catch her breath as Ada pointed somewhere in the distance. She squealed as she pulled [Name] with her. The closer they got, the more her heart began to beat. It felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest. She almost didn't want to lay her eyes upon them. In fear she would end up like the women receiving bad news that their own soldier had died in the battlefield.

But, she finally looked up. Ada, Finn, and Polly running to hug Arthur and John. [Name] stood in her place as she met this eyes. Those icy blue eyes and suddenly the air flew back into her lungs.

He was alive.

"Thomas?" She called, he stared at her. "Thomas!" She took off from her planted state and ran towards him. Throwing herself in his arms as she held him tightly, his arms wrapped around her tightly as he burred his face into her neck, inhaling deeply. She smelled like florals, an exotic blend of jasmine and violet. She smelled like home.

"You're okay...you're alive," She whispered to remind herself that he was in the flesh. She lifted her head to look at him, tears flooding her eyes as she rekindled with him. His hair was cut, short on the sides and back, nearly to the root with longer hair on the top that draped just across his forehead. The square of his jaw was clenched and sunk at the cheeks, sharp cheek bones...sharp enough to cut glass. Dark circles under his eyes and pale skin, but the same freckles littered his nose and cheeks. He looked so different. But nothing could beat the look in his eyes. He looked like a man that had gone through hell.

She supposed he actually did.

"My love? Are you really here with me?" She asked him, bringing her hands up to his face.

"I am...[Name], I'm here," He slightly smiled at her as he kissed her forehead. She knew he was physically here, but part of her knew mentally...he was distancing himself.

As the days passed, his once beautiful, vibrant blue eyes turned dull and emotionless. Just like before, he was sweet with her at first, but he started to grow cold. On some nights, she would sleep in his small bed, just waiting for him to come home in the late hours. When he did come home late, he would be drunk and simply stumble into bed, the faint smell of roses on his neck. He was a shell of the man she used to love.

One morning, she walked into his office.

"We need to talk," She told him, standing in the doorway sheepishly. He barely looked up at her before lighting a cigarette.

"What is it [Name], I am extremely busy," He huffed. The woman rolled her eyes, clenching her jaw as she closed the door behind her and walked to his desk until she were standing in front of him.

"You have been acting strange with me all these weeks, Tommy...What's happened?" She finally asked.

"Nothing happened, [Name]…Is that all this is about?" He asked, standing to grab some books from his shelf to look over, still avoiding her eyes. She almost felt delirious as she just wanted him to look at her. Her eyes followed him.

"You barely talk to me-"

"We're talking now," He quipped. She refrained from tearing her own hair out at how dismissive he was being.

"Hardly..."

"What is the point of this conversation [Name]?" He asked, arching a brow as he went back to his desk, again her body followed him, facing him again.

"The point is you don't treat me like I matter to you anymore, you hardly treat me as your bride-to-be let alone a friend! Does our friendship even matter to you anymore?"

He stayed silent as he just kept his head down.

"For Christ sake Thomas, look at me!" She shouted in frustration. His head snapped up to look at her. Surprised she had raised her voice as she had been so quiet since his return.

"You want to know what really happened, [Name]? Eh?" He quickly stood up and stalked towards her, her breath shuttered a bit as she was backed away into the wall, he stood tall over her.

"I saw people die, for four fucken' years! I nearly died in those tunnels, drowning in the mud and still, you assume I'll forget that ever happened?!" He shouted, getting closer.

"I don't blame you for what happened while you were gone...I understand-"

"No you don't [Name], stop fucken' saying you understand me when you don't! You weren't there, you will never understand what happened to me out there!"

"So what changed Thomas?" She asked, her lip trembling a bit. "What did I do to make you treat me this way?"

He scoffed, shaking his head as he pushed himself off of the wall and distanced himself from her.

"I thought you died out there Thomas, you didn't respond to my letters for weeks, I...I was so scared, and to find out you were alive and now? You treat me like a stranger... What did I do wrong?" Her voice was stern, but even Thomas heard the unstable wavering of some of the words. Thomas eyed her, looking at her like she was some common woman, not his closest friend and love of his life.

"You drain me...just being with you is exhausting, I mean for fucks sake [Name], you cling to me more that a fuckin' leach from the cut,"

"A leach?...That's what you think of me now?" She shook her head.

He hesitated.

"So that promise you made me was all fake?"

'What can I say? France gave me clarity..." He shrugged. [Name] was fuming. This wasn't the man she loved. Not anymore.

"I don't know who you think you are, but I loved you Thomas...But you're not the man I fell in love with,"

Thomas bit his lip before reaching into his pocket to grab another cigarette. There was still light in his eyes but he was too deep in his memories of France that he couldn't get out. He hardly slept as he heard the digging in the walls every night. She would have made those noises from his head and those terrors in his dreams if he had just given her the chance. He'd rather spend his nights elsewhere getting drunk and sleeping with the prostitute he met shortly after returning home.

"The old me died in the tunnels..." He spoke softly. She wanted nothing but to just kiss him and tell him everything would be okay. But the memories haunted him. And therefor turned her love away.

"I suppose the new you doesn't have love for anyone?"

"No," He replied quickly.

She nodded slowly. Reaching into her left hand and debating if she wanted to return the ring he gave her before he left. Tears brimmed her eyes as she slipped the gold band off of her finger. Thomas' eyes widened ever so slightly as he watched her walk over to him, grabbing his hand and placing the ring in his palm before folding his fingers over it, moving past him as she left his office without any last words.

she had stormed to her own office, slamming the door and quickly gathering her thoughts before gathering her things. She had left the shop in silence, Polly had called her name as she watched [Name] leave without a trace.

"Where has she gone, why is she leaving?" She asked her nephews and niece before going to investigate the now empty office. Thomas watched in shameful silence as Polly confirmed that her things were gone. Though the reason was unknown, Polly accused of Thomas being the reason for the young woman's departure. After she had voiced her (harsh) words, she left him in silence again.

"Trouble in paradise?" His brother asked, smirking a bit after watched their aunt butchering him with her words.

"Shut up John," He rolled his eyes before returning to work.

---

[Tag List]

@mysticalbouquetwolf-posts @milljane @cyphah @diosa-ahre-blog @badlandsbrunette

#Spotify #peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #x reader #peaky blinders #peaky fucking blinders #tommyshelbyxreader #light angst #friends to lovers

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mandos-mind-trick · 1 year

Text

Stella

Summary: You never thought it would happen. It wasn't supposed to, but it did. You're on the run from the Empire, pregnant with Crosshair's child. Feelings come to light and you get the chance to live your dream life both with the man you love, and your child's father.

Pairing: Hunter x reader, previous Crosshair x reader

Warnings: Pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, brief discussions of abortion, mentions of a casual relationship, lots of discussion of pregnancy related stuff, lots of feelings, repressed feelings, description of labor but nothing graphic, may cause baby fever, brief mention of PTSD, major AU, kind of a crappy ending.

A/N: This was originally a very early version of how Midnight was gonna play out and I decided to change it and make it it's own story. I was going to post this for Father's Day but I just couldn't get a good feel for it that day and so I'm posting it a few days late. I'd also like to say I've never given birth, I based most of this off of what I learned going through my landlords pregnancy while she still lived with us.

Part 2 here

MASTERLIST

It comes out of nowhere.

The nausea, the uncontrollable vomiting. The smells. You know they don’t smell good. Getting them to shower is like trying to brush a tooka. You had quickly grown accustomed to the sweaty man stench that permeated the air in the ship, only noticing it when it got exceedingly bad.

Now it’s almost unbearable.

You groan, pressing your head back into the wall behind you. Every little movement of the ship is sending your stomach rolling, but there’s nothing left in it to puke back up. You’re exhausted, but the thought of sleep is so far from your mind.

“Are you...alright?” The gentle hand on your shoulder is almost too much.

Sweet, sweet Hunter always looking out for you.

“Don’t feel good.” You murmur, your words almost a slur in an attempt to move as little as possible. The last thing you need is to puke again.

He moves away from you, speaking quietly with someone. You crack your eyes open as the presence returns, this one a little different. You jerk back as a datapad is thrust in your face, your hand weakly batting at Tech’s arm.

“Body temperature is normal.” He says, moving the datapad down as he scans your body. “No sign of any respiratory distress either.” He lowers the datapad as you smack his arm again.

“‘M fine.” You murmur, curling up in a ball. “Nauseous.”

“Yes, it’s likely just a stomach ailment.” Tech says, moving to stand. “Bacteria related, from either food or contaminated water.”

“But we eat the same food.” Wrecker says, listening in on the conversation.

“Yes, but we were designed to be resistant to most common illnesses that nat-borns can be ailed with. They pass through us with hardly any symptoms.” Tech says.

“Lucky you.” You murmur, leaning your head against the wall. It’s cold and feels nice against your skin.

“She’ll be fine in a day.” Tech says, unconcerned as always.

***

You are not fine.

Your stomach had settled a bit later that day, enough to eat a ration bar and chug some water. You’d gotten some sleep, at least for a few hours.

Then you’d puked through the landing on Ord Mantell.

You drag your feet as you follow the guys to Cid’s, exhausted from the constant sickness. You lean against the bar, considering downing a bottle to either knock you out or at least give you an excuse to be puking your guts out.

“I want you to stay here.” Hunter says, pulling you aside. “No offense, but you’re not exactly in the best shape.”

You nod. “No complaints. I don’t think I’d want to go anyway.”

“Omega is staying too.” He says.

“Oh good. Maybe she can kick some ass at dejarik again.” You jest.

A smile pulls at Hunter’s mouth. You’re still making jokes which is a good sign. “Keep an eye on her.”

You wave your hand. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not going anywhere.”

You slump over towards one of the booths, stretching out on it.

Your eyes snap open as something hits the table in front of you. You look up blearily, seeing a cup sitting there. “What is that?” You slur, pushing yourself to sit up.

“Water.” Cid says. “The kid says you need it.”

“Thanks.” You murmur, shocked she’s not charging you for it.

“What’s the matter with you anyway, sassy?” Cid asks.

“Been sick to my stomach the last couple days.” You say, taking a sip of the water. It’s room temperature, likely from the tap, but it’s still water. “Tech said it's probably some bacteria. Something I ate.”

“You sure you’re not pregnant?”

You sit up a little straighter, the fog clearing. You stare at Cid, wide eyed. “What?”

Cid shrugs. “I just figured, cute thing like you cooped up on a ship with a bunch of men...” She begins walking away. “They’re a bunch of fools if they haven’t even tried.”

They have.

Successfully.

It started because you hated each other. Crosshair pushed your buttons more than anyone you’d ever met. He enjoyed it, pushing you to the point you were seeing red. He rarely ever saw consequences, Hunter stepping in before you could break his teeth or rearrange his face.

You hated him. He was rude, crass, and downright mean to you for literally no reason other than things that were out of your control. You hadn’t chosen to be added to their squad. In fact, you would have preferred literally anything else. They weren’t unkind, well, most of them weren’t, you just weren’t happy about being cooped up in a far too small space with four, eventually five, men.

Something shifted after you quite literally saved their asses. The 100% success rate would have been broken had you not been there to save the day.

That was the first time you and Crosshair fucked.

He had been seething, more so at his own failure and you having to be the one that saved the day, than anything else. You had wound up pinned to the fresher wall, his hips slamming into yours as his teeth drew blood on your neck and shoulders and his fingers left bruises on your hips.

It became something after that.

Hate fucking turned into just fucking which turned into...something.

You wouldn’t call it love, at least not to him. You’re not sure he’s capable of that much. Lust, perhaps, was a better word.

You fucked after every mission. Even between missions. You fucked in the fresher, in the bunks, even once in his bunk on Kamino.

You felt bad for Hunter, but he never complained.

He’d been the one to hold you while you cried endlessly about Crosshair’s betrayal. When you’d shut down, going through the basic emotions because a switch had been flipped in Crosshair and he’d turned into someone else. Someone who didn’t care.

You’re still not over it, but at least you can ignore the pain now.

Or, you thought you could.

It couldn’t be possible. You both had implants. It was supposed to be impossible.

It would have been...right before Kaller.

That only makes it so much worse.

****

Your hands are shaking as you make your way down the street. You had left Omega with Cid, not telling her where you were going, but she probably knew. You hadn’t even thought it could be a possibility. The symptoms checked out, though. The nausea, vomiting, sensitivity to stimuli. All the stereotypical signs you knew of.

You hope to the Maker it’s some sort of bacteria, some foreign parasite slowly eating your insides.

The clinic isn’t difficult to find. It’s tucked away in a corner, inconspicuous, unless you’re looking for it. You had considered going to the medical center, but you couldn’t trust they wouldn’t report you to the Empire. You had to be on some sort of wanted list now.

So you had sought out a rather sketchy private clinic, paying upfront. You’re led back into a small room with old medical equipment. You take a seat on the table, anxiously awaiting the doctor’s arrival.

An older woman steps into the room, giving you a quick once over. You probably look like most of her clientele. Young, desperate, nervous. You tell her why you’re there, the symptoms you’ve been experiencing. She instructs you to lay on the table, doing a quick scan head to toe. You stare at the screen, watching the results pop up.

“There.” She points at a small dot in your uterus. “There’s a fetus, all right.”

She zooms in, showing the small, deformed looking thing that could barely be described as human-like. Tears blur your vision for a moment and you hastily blink them back.

“But...but how? We both have the...the implant.” You ask.

“Implants are only 99% effective.” She answers. “They work most of the time, but then there’s still that 1%. If the conditions are right, viable pregnancy is still possible.” She studies the scan. “I’d say you’re about 8 weeks in. Still well within the realm of a safe termination, if that’s what you want.”

You should. You can’t raise a child. Even if circumstances were different, you’re by no means capable of taking care of another human being. But...this is Crosshair’s baby. This may be the only part of him you ever get to see again. Can you really throw him away so easily like this?

“I...I don’t know.” You whisper, staring at the screen still.

“Well, I’ll remove your implant while you decide. Keeping it in any longer runs the risk of harm to the fetus. Replacing it will be easy.” You barely feel it, the quick cut and pull and then the cold bacta spray. You’ve gone numb. “Think on it.” She says, patting your shoulder. “Come back if you decide.”

You walk out of the clinic in a daze. You’re not sure where you’re going, the world around you spinning. You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant with Crosshair’s baby. There’s a baby inside you. You feel like you may be sick.

***

You’re not sure where you are. You’ve been wandering. You’re not even sure how long. You’re half dazed and lost. Even if you had been in your right mind, you’re not sure you could have found your way back now. You should stop, you should sit down, find a map, anyone that can point you where to go.

You can’t stop walking.

If you stop moving, you’ll have to feel.

You don’t want to feel.

You nearly walk straight into someone’s chest, a strong hand grips your arm to keep you standing. Your name is being called, drawing you from your dazed state. You look up, meeting a familiar pair of brown eyes.

“Echo.” You say, blinking in surprise.

It must be far later than you thought.

“I’ve located her.” He says into his comm, looking you over. “She appears unhurt.” He holds you at arm length again, staring down at you. “What could you possibly be doing clear across town?”

“I’m...what?” You look around. You don’t recognize anything.

He pulls you slightly closer, looking at your eyes, checking your head. “No head injury that I can see. Cid said you left on an errand. You’ve been gone for hours.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say.

“Hunter is not pleased.”

The words bring tears to your eyes. Of course he’s not. You’re in for a brutal reprimanding when you return. You’re not sure you can handle it. You don’t have much of a choice as Tech all but pulls you along behind him in the streets, leading you back towards the spaceport.

At least Cid wouldn’t have to bear witness to your reprimanding.

You’re already in tears by the time you’re climbing the steps to the Marauder, the others already back. Hunter turns on you as soon as you enter, his face stern and eyes practically blazing.

“What the hell were you thinking?” He snaps, stomping towards you. “Running off alone like that, wandering around the city unprotected. You put all of us at risk being that careless!”

“Hunter,” Echo warns, taking a step closer to the angry clone, but Hunter ignores him.

“You can’t keep making these stupid mistakes. What if you had been seen? What if something had happened? You left Omega alone, wandered off somewhere doing what? What was so important that you selfishly put all of us at risk?”

You can’t help it. You deserve the reprimanding for being so careless, but you still can’t help it. The tears come, flooding down your cheeks and dripping onto the floor of the Marauder. A sob tears from your lips, your body folding in on itself as you cry.

Hunter and the others blink in surprise. You never cry. Not all the times you’d been injured, not when you watched the regs shoot General Billaba, not when Crosshair had betrayed all of you. You wanted to. You desperately wanted to cry over Crosshair, over losing everything, but you hadn’t.

Now everything comes out at once.

“I’m pregnant.” You sob, squeezing your eyes shut, hoping it might stop the tears. It doesn’t. They still keep falling.

The Marauder is still in stunned silence. Your legs threaten to give out, Tech guiding you into one of the seats. You bury your face in your hands, unable to stop the tears from falling.

Echo puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, kneeling down next to you. “It’s Crosshair’s, isn’t it?”

You nod, inhaling shakily. “Eight weeks. Right before Kaller.”

“But you both have implants.” Echo says. “That should be impossible.”

“Technically the implants are only 99% effective. Though the chance is small, there’s still a chance of pregnancy even with both parties being protected.” Tech says. “We’ll need to remove the implant if you intend on seeing the pregnancy through.”

“Are you going to keep it?” Echo asks.

“I don’t know.” You sigh. “I shouldn’t. I can’t raise a baby in this. It’s too dangerous. The Empire and bounty hunters chasing us, the dangerous missions we’re being sent on. We live on a ship that’s too small for us already, I can’t have a baby in here. I shouldn’t.”

“But...it’s Crosshair’s.” Echo says, voicing the unspoken.

You curl in on yourself again, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure you’re ready to let Crosshair go yet.

“I think you should take some time. Consider your options.” Echo says.

“We don’t have time.” You croak. “I can’t go on missions like this.”

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” Hunter finally says. “I think we all need to get some sleep.”

He at least has the heart to look guilty.

***

You can’t sleep.

You had ensured them you were fine on the floor still, at least for now. You knew you weren’t going to sleep, so the thought of taking one of their spots is too much. You’re not sure what you’re going to do. You don’t want to terminate the pregnancy, but you may not have a choice. You can always leave, go off on your own. You don’t want to, though. The boys are like family now.

You rise from the floor, heading towards the front of the ship. Hunter is in the cockpit, having stayed up to keep watch. You’re still in the dock on Ord Mantell, and the ship is locked and secured, but still he insisted on staying up.

You sit in the pilot’s seat, not bothering to announce yourself. He knows. He probably knew you weren’t sleeping.

It’s quiet between you two for a few moments. You’re both staring out the viewport, refusing to look at each other.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.” He finally says, glancing at you. “I had no idea.”

“You couldn’t have known.” You say. “Cid was the one that suggested it. When I told her I was sick she immediately asked if I was pregnant. I had to know. I went to some backdoor clinic. Somewhere that wouldn’t ask questions.”

“Do you want to keep it?” He asks.

“It’s a baby, Hunter.” You chastise. Over the last few hours, you’d been thinking more and more about the fact there’s an actual human growing inside of you.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

You finally look at him, meeting his gaze. It's the serious look you recognize, the look of a Sergeant worried about one of the soldiers under his command. But there's something deeper. Something more under that gaze.

"The smart thing is to terminate. You know that and I know that." You say. "Before the war, I never thought about having children. I never considered it. I never wanted it. But then Omega came into our lives and...I started to think maybe I do want a family. Maybe I do want children." You look back out the viewport. "I don't want to keep the baby just because of Crosshair. That wouldn't be fair." You shake your head. "The war's over. If the situation had been different, I would have gone back to my life and had to decide what comes next. Maybe...maybe I want to settle down. Maybe I want kids and a house and a boring job. I don’t want to leave, but...Hunter I’m tired.” You turn to look at him again.

“I know.” He says. The look is still there in his eyes. He knows. He knows better than any of them. “It’s your decision. Whatever you decide to do, you know we’ll support you completely. I think you’ll make a great mother.”

You smile, leaning your head back against the seat. “Thanks. In my daydreams about my life, I’m not a single mother, but I guess some things don’t happen in the order you expect them to.”

“Crosshair isn’t the...paternal type.” Hunter says. “Even if he knew...”

You shake your head. “Crosshair wasn’t ever part of those daydreams.” He looks at you in surprise, but your gaze is out the viewport again. “I know he didn’t love me. I don’t even think he liked me. We fucked because it was easy. Stress relief. I...I don’t think I loved him either. He...He was rough. He hurt me sometimes, but I never said anything. I know he needed it, and it was easy to pretend with him.” You lift one of your legs, resting your heel on the edge of the seat. “I...I liked someone else when I first joined. But they were unattainable, and Crosshair just...jumped right in. I don’t regret it. I knew it would end when the war did. I just never thought I’d be here.”

“I don’t think any of us did.” Hunter says. “None of us could have guessed what was going to happen two months ago. I never knew how you felt about Crosshair. I thought...maybe he was the one you liked. I could hear your heart rate pick up, the way your breathing quickened, I could smell the sweat, see and hear every little nervous twitch and shift. I thought it was about him. I tried not to let it bother me. I shouldn’t have...I would have been decommissioned if anyone just heard my thoughts.”

You turn the seat, staring at him wide eyed. Your heart is pounding harder than it was a moment ago. “Hunter...”

“I was in love with you from the first time we met. You already knew our names, knew all about us. You...cared. Kriff, I wanted to tell you. I wanted to confess, but I knew it was a risk. Then Crosshair...I had to accept that you didn’t feel the same way.”

Tears pool in your eyes once more as you stare at him. Had he felt the same way? Had he been willing all this time, even after you had fallen in bed with Crosshair to forget?

Hunter moves from the copilot seat, kneeling in front of you. “I’ll find us a place, somewhere safe to settle down. Someplace you can have your house and your family and Omega can be a kid. Just tell me that I’m the one in that daydream.”

A tear slides down your cheek as you stare at him. “You can be.”

He cups your face, brushing the tear from your cheek. “Can I kiss you?”

You nod, closing your eyes as he leans in. The kiss is soft, hesitant but you can feel the emotion behind it. All those times he’d had to lay there, all those times he’d been forced to listen to you and Crosshair and he never said anything.

He wraps his arms around you, tugging you onto the edge of the seat. You feel tears prick your eyes once more. He shushes you, pressing small kisses against your lips.

“Hunter.” You quietly sob, trying to pull away. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He says, pulling you against his chest. “I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but I thought you were happy and that’s all I ever wanted. I could live with it, so long as you were happy.”

You cling to him tighter, clutching onto the edges of his armor. You hate crying. You hate it, but you can’t stop. “Stupid pregnancy hormones.” You cry. “I hate this.”

“It’s alright.” He says, rubbing your back. “We’ll get through this.”

His words don’t help, only making you cry harder. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the whole galaxy, cyare.” He says, kissing the side of your head. “While I can’t give all that to you, I’ll give you what I can.”

***

You don’t get your chance to find your new home right away.

Instead you find yourselves back on Kamino. You had avoided all of the action, Hunter refusing to allow you to join them.

You stand on the landing platform, staring at Crosshair. It’s been weeks since you’ve seen him. The last time, he’d been so willing to kill you for the Empire. You also hadn’t known at that time that you were pregnant.

You walk up to him, staring hard at him. He glares at you, not unusual for him. He was being stubborn, determined not to come with you despite the Empire having just tried to kill all of you. You know they don’t care. However loyal he is, he’ll never be anything but expendable to them, just like to the Republic.

“Crosshair,” You hate the way your voice wavers. “I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant and it’s yours.”

His glare hardens, staring hard at you. He knows you’re not lying, at least about being pregnant. You’re beginning to show, hardly more than a small bump but it’s very noticeable that it hadn’t been there before.

“You deserve to know that what happened between us was nothing more than physical.” You continue. “I never really had true feelings for you. I don’t expect you to be with me. I don’t expect you to even be a parent to this child, but they deserve to have you in their life, and you deserve to be in theirs. So march your ass over there and get on that ship.” You point behind you at the ship.

He narrows his eyes at you. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Don’t be a prick, you know damn well that the Empire doesn’t care about you. You’re expendable to them, just like you were to the Republic.” You curse the tears gathering in your eyes. “Your brothers love you, Crosshair. Yes, they left and I can attest to the fact they regret it. Get your ass on that ship now before I have Wrecker come out here and drag you on board.”

He continues to glare at you for a moment before his shoulders sag a bit. You know you’ve gotten to him, but you don’t back down, even as he walks past you. He climbs the steps to the ship slowly, passing Hunter as he goes. Hunter puts a hand on your back, and you feel a bit of a weight come off your shoulders. Crosshair’s back and safe, and you’re all dead in the Empire’s eyes.

***

You put a hand on your stomach, breathing for a moment. The pressure is getting worse, something you can no longer ignore. You push yourself to stand, making your way towards the fresher.

“Again?” Crosshair asks as you pass the couch.

“Well, if your child would stop kicking me in the bladder, I wouldn’t have to go so much.” You snap, though you’re not so much angry as annoyed.

It’s been nine months since that fateful day before Kaller, nine months since your lives had changed and fallen apart. You’ve been working hard to piece your lives back together slowly. It will never go back to being the same, and you all know that.

Finding this planet has been a lifesaver. Far off the beaten track, filled with nothing but farmlands, it hadn’t been hard to decide this was your new home. You had found an abandoned, worn down place and fixed it up, making it your own. Tech had built more than enough rooms, but they had quickly realized sleeping alone was a lot harder when you’d had someone around you your entire life.

Wrecker had quickly moved into Tech’s room, both of them usually keeping different sleep schedules, and Tech usually passed out hard enough Wrecker’s snoring didn’t bother him. Crosshair had moved into Echo’s room silently, both of them still plagued by nightmares. Omega was the only one thrilled to have her own room, and a real bed.

Of course, you and Hunter had taken the largest room, which had quickly become stuffed with things for the baby.

You knew the change had been a bit jarring for Crosshair. Even if he hadn’t felt much of anything for you, you hadn’t missed the jealousy that had crossed his face whenever you and Hunter were close. He never said anything, he never acted on anything, just silently brooding as he usually did.

Things changed when you’d held him one night, his head in your lap, fingers laced with his as he shivered through another nightmare. Something shifted between you two, an understanding. Even though you weren’t involved physically with each other any more, he was still the father of your child. You still cared for him and wanted him around.

You were in love with Hunter, but you still cared about Crosshair.

It had come so easily, the love and affection between you and Hunter. He loved your unborn child like she was his, even if she was technically his brother’s baby. Tech had proudly jumped in, correcting you that since they were clones, technically the baby could genetically be all of theirs. Of course, with Crosshair’s enhancements, it was uncertain how much they would affect the baby, how much of those enhancements would pass on to offspring.

That only made you worry, and it often kept you up at night. Would something like their accelerated growth pass on? It was hard enough coming to terms that you would likely outlive all of them. You can’t stand the thought of outliving your children too.

You sink down on the couch next to Crosshair after finishing in the fresher. He passes a sideways glance at you before going back to whatever he was doing on his datapad. You let out a sigh, stretching your legs out. Your feet and ankles are swollen, something you’ve come to terms with. They’re always swollen, always aching. Something’s always hurting.

Being pregnant certainly had its ups and downs. Did you regret it? No, but you couldn’t wait for it to be over. Of course, once it was over, there was an entirely new battle to face. You’d have a newborn baby, another human entirely reliant on you to care for them. That idea scared you more than actual childbirth.

You lean your head back, relaxing on the couch in the quiet of the house. Wrecker, Tech, and Echo were in the barn working on some upgrades before the harvest season. Hunter had gone into town to pick up Omega from a friend’s house. It was just you and Crosshair, both of you happy to sit in silence.

You’re nearly asleep when the door opens, Omega and Hunter coming in. Omega is talking about something animatedly, Hunter only halfway listening.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up then you can help start dinner.” He says, steering her down the hallway. He bends down, kissing the top of your head. “Feeling alright, cyare?” He murmurs, leaning over the back of the couch.

You open your eyes, smiling up at him. “Yeah. But if I have to visit the ‘fresher one more time because this baby is kicking me in the bladder, I might scream.”

He chuckles lightly, kissing your forehead. “She’s going to be a fighter.”

“She already is. She’s been beating me up for six months.” You pout. “I can’t wait until she’s here.”

“Tech says any day now. If she’s not here in two weeks, we may have to consider inducing.”

You make a face. “I’d rather not. It’s bad enough Tech is going to be the third member of this squad to see my vagina.”

Crosshair’s shoulders shake as he laughs silently.

“We might as well invite Wrecker and Echo in, make it a full set.” You push yourself up from the couch. “Everyone gets to see my vagina.” You start making your way down the hall. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to scream in the ‘fresher.”

***

You can’t sleep. It’s early, the sky still dark out the window. Hunter is awake too, his arms wrapped around you, cradling your stomach. She’s been moving a lot, every time you’d settled and gotten close enough to rest, she’d move again, pushing on some organ inside you.

You’d given up on sleeping. Hunter had snoozed for a bit, but he’d been awake most of the night too. He had told you not only could he hear her heartbeat, but he could also hear her moving. It freaked you out, and you can only imagine how he feels. His nose is pressed against your neck, inhaling deeply.

“Are you smelling me?” You ask quietly. It wasn’t unusual, he smelled you more than what most would consider normal, but you knew with his senses he could pick up even the smallest change if he focused.

“I think it’s going to happen soon.” He says, kissing your shoulder. “She sounds different.”

You sigh. “I hope so. I can’t stand this waiting.”

You’d lost your mucus plug a week ago. Tech had said she could come at any time now. AZI’s predicted due date was technically tomorrow, but if you didn’t go into labor by next week, Tech said you’d need to be induced.

You were hoping that was not going to be needed. You’ve been having some light cramping since yesterday, but nothing substantial.

You smooth your hands over your stomach, breathing out a sigh. “Come on, baby girl. I know you want out as much as I want you out.” You push yourself up to sit, rubbing your eyes. “Hunter?” He grunts in response. “Will you get me some of the leftover meat from last night?”

You can practically hear his smile as he pushes himself up. “You want some fruit too?”

“No, just the meat.”

He gets up, heading down the hall to the kitchen. He had grown used to your strange cravings quickly, keeping many things on hand just in case. There was never any waste, as Wrecker would eat anything and everything you didn’t want. You move to the rocking chair in the corner, hoping you can get her to settle enough that you can get some sleep. Once you go into labor, you know sleep will be impossible.

Half the day passes and there’s no sign yet. The cramps have started to increase a bit, getting more uncomfortable than painful. Hunter sticks close, watching and waiting. He’s hovering a bit, but you know it’s just what he’s going to do.

You spend a lot of the day on the couch, trying to relax and sleep as much as possible. You get up every so often, stretching your legs. You’re in the kitchen when it happens, something wet leaking down your thighs.

“Well, either this is very embarrassing, or my water just broke.” You say.

Chaos erupts, both Hunter and Tech trying to see. Omega is jumping excitedly as Echo tries to contain her, poor Wrecker looking around confused. Crosshair is the only calm one, seated at the table. The only movement he makes is moving the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.

You move into the bedroom as planned, having refused Tech’s offer to give birth in his lab. It was much more sterile, he insisted, but you wanted to be comfortable. This was already going to be awful, the least you could get was some comfort.

The contractions begin to get stronger into the night, most of what you had to do now was more waiting. At least things were moving. Sometime in the next two days the baby would come. You shift through various positions sitting and standing, just trying to be comfortable through the contractions. Tech and Hunter wait patiently, Hunter helping support you when needed. AZI does regular scans, checking on the baby’s progress, making sure she’s not in distress.

The only thing that’s missing is Crosshair.

You wanted him to be present for the birth, since this was his daughter. He deserved to see the birth of his child. Even if he wanted nothing to do with her, he deserved to see her be born.

“Go tell Crosshair to get his toothpick chewing ass in here.” You grit out after another contraction. They’re getting closer and closer together, the time getting closer and closer.

Hunter steps out, leaving you leaning against the side of the bed. He returns shortly after, Crosshair stepping in. Whatever Hunter had said, it had motivated him without much of an argument.

You wave him over, leaning against his chest. “I’m gonna kill you after this.” You murmur, wrapping your arms around him. “This sucks.”

He wisely keeps his mouth shut, wrapping his arms around you. You squeeze him as another contraction tears through you, the night getting later and later.

It’s not until early in the morning when it happens. Hunter sits behind you, propping you up and supporting you. Crosshair kneels beside the bed, holding your hand as you push. Tech kneels at the end of the bed, AZI keeping a live scan to make sure everything is going fine.

You’re half delirious, weak and exhausted as you bring your daughter into the world. Tech lays her on your chest, getting the warm rags to clean her off. Tears blur your vision as you listen to her cry, letting go of Hunter and Crosshair to hold her. She’s so small, so delicate. You can hardly believe it’s happened, it’s finally over.

Tech has to practically pry her from your arms to check her over and clean her up, Hunter helping clean you up. He and Crosshair get you settled in bed, Tech bundling your daughter in a blanket before passing her off to you.

You hold her, staring down at her in awe. You can hardly believe she’s really here, your baby is finally here with you. She’s so tiny and pink, with a shock of white hair on top of her head. You smile, tears rolling down your cheeks as you stare at her.

“She’s so beautiful.” You whisper, holding her close. “You made a beautiful baby, Crosshair.”

“I think that’s all you.” He says, moving closer to you as Hunter all but shoves him closer.

You smile. “Would you like to hold her?”

He blinks at you for a moment. You shift, offering her over. He takes her hesitantly, like he’s scared of breaking her. You adjust her in his arms, making sure they’re both comfortable. He stares down at her for a long time, like he can’t believe he really made her, like she’s not real.

You smile, watching him as his eyes soften a bit, his finger lifting to trace her cheek. She opens her eyes, staring up at him. They look like little shining stars, and you hope they’ll be brown like his.

“Have you thought of a name?” Tech asks, cleaning up the rest of the mess.

You had discussed it with both Hunter and Crosshair, the latter being less enthusiastic about having to choose. You wanted his input, even if he was positive he wanted nothing to do with raising her.

“Stella.” Crosshair answers, still staring down at her face.

You had brought that name forward as an option, adding it to the neverending list of possibilities. You had decided to wait to officially choose, wanting one that would match her perfectly.

You glance at Hunter and he gives a small nod. “Stella it is.”

Hunter wraps his arms around you, letting you lean against his chest. “Get some rest, mesh’la.” He says, kissing your head. “You did a lot of work. She’s in good hands.”

Crosshair glances up at Hunter, Hunter giving him a reassuring smile. Maybe he does want to be part of her life after all.

Taglist:

@bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @rosechi, @lune-de-miel-au-paradis

#star wars #star wars fic #the bad batch #the bad batch fic #crosshair x reader #hunter x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb hunter x reader

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the-fluff-piece · 11 months

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Hi, Idk if I'm doing this right, but I love your work, and I want to request something. Could you do 18(what was that noise?), with either Law or Sanji? And funny, but like, in-character. I kind of read y/n fics as bedtime stories and I love cracking up to your imagines :)

Hello anon!

Thank you for your kind words! It's great to hear thay you get my Humor 😆

I like fun prompts and I think I have just the thing for you 😉

I just hope it's not too scary before bed!

This is part of the now closed Follower milestone event.

Also check out my masterlist!

Here's

Midnight Sunny

Things that go bump in the night...happens a lot on a ship, especially on the grand line!

Sanji and you heard some very strange sounds and investigate the thousand sunny at night - when it's dark and empty. And scary.

Sfw, funny fluff about what the crew does at night.

You were still unfamiliar with the ship, the crew. The noises. Something went bump in the night - hard. You looked around, Robin and Nami were fast asleep. Well enough- you're a pirate now, you had to act like it and protect your friends. You got up, not bothering to get a jacket or anything in the warm night.

Outside, you couldn't hear or see anything at first. You carefully walked down the stairs to the main deck and enjoyed the fresh air and the scent of Gras in the night.

Maybe this was nothing? You surely just overreacted. Besides, Zoro was holding watch in the crow's nest, if he couldn't handle it, no one could. Reassured, you turned to return to bed. When you wandered back towards the stairs, you heard it!

Loud snoring indicated that your evaluation of the situation was a bit optimistic, your night watch had fallen asleep. But nothing was here and you decided it was time to sleep - when you almost slipped on something. It was wet and sticky when your naked foot touched it. You bent down and saw...it was blood!

A strange groan could be heard behind you, you spun around. Dark and tall, a figure was moving towards you, groaning and heaving. But no steps could be heard.

Sanji

Sanji has lived on ships for most of his life. The splash of the water against the wood of the ship's belly, the creaking planks, all familiar sounds. In fact, he needed that to sleep. The silent nights on land, in towns, were hard for him.

On the sunny, most of those sounds were drowned out by Zoro's snoring and Luffy's sleep eating (you know how he dreams about food all night? He's chewing and talking all the time).

So when something really went bump in the night, Sanji was sure something was wrong.

He routinely checked the other's beds - all seemed to be in their hammocks, sleeping and wrapped in their blankets.

He air-walked just an inch from the floor to be absolutely silent and went to investigate. Who else was on the ship?

Nami-san and Robin-chan, Y/n-chan, Zoro sleeping in the crows best and the rest of the boys here with him.

He got a flash light and headed outside into the night. Someone was there! He inched closer, soundless. He was ready to seize the intruder, when his body held him back. Those hips? That ass? He felt his nose trickle and a noise escape his throat: "y/n chyaaaaan" He mumbled, enchanted.

You

The creature said your name! It sounded like a Zombie! You swung the hardest punch you had - only realising to late that you smashed poor Sanji across the grass. Luckily, he took the blow like it was nothing and was up on his feet in seconds, already hurrying back towards you with flailing arms.

"Y/n chyaaaan! Don't be afraid, it's only me! Your Sanji!" He chanted. Blood was running from his nose.

"Oh! I am so sorry!" You apologised, trying to find something to remove the blood. He stared at you with heart eyes, making you realise that you only wore hot pants and a shirt. He wore a shirt and shorts as well, he had probably already been sleeping, too.

He looked a bit creepy with his bloody face and confused eyes, but you had no handkerchief with you, so you decided to take the corner of his shirt to wipe some of the blood off his face. Lifting the fabric up revealed his six-pack and made him hyperventilate, it also almost gave you a nosebleed, so you quickly abandoned the plan.

"Sanji, I heard something" You told him, trying to change the subject a bit. He was a monster on the battlefield, too, he could handle any intruders. Or ghosts.

In a second, he gathered himself and answered seriously:"yeah, I heard it, too! I'll protect you!" Just what you needed to hear!

"Let's investigate it and get back to sleep" You said with worry and shivered a bit.

"Of course! Leave it to me!" He boasted. And, seeing your shiver, he added: "are you cold? Do you need my shirt?" He already lifted it, showing his creamy white skin. You would absolutely love to see some more, but you also had to focus and declined politely. Instead, you opted to hold onto his arm for warmth and comfort, which he gladly accepted.

Together, you started towards the lower decks, where the sound had originated. Sanji had turned from a mindless, mumbling idiot back into a sexy badass, leading the way with his arm around you. Only the sideways looks and pink cheeks betrayed his serious demeanor.

He opened the door that lead to the kitchen and the storage rooms. It was dark and quiet, the creaking of the ship could be heard clearer now. There was a trace of some sort - like cobweb? Thoughts of giant spiders invaded your mind and made you hold on to Sanji tighter. A small gasp escaped him, but he stayed strong. You pointed to the trail of thin strings and he nodded, walking in front of you. You followed the trail to a wooden chest in the corner that was usually reserved for Sanji's kitchen supplies. He carefully lifted the lid, ready to strike, when he stumbled back from a terrifying scream!

A high pitched shriek echoed through the ship, followed by loud wailing.

"I am so sorry Sanji!" A high voice cried.

"Chopper! What are you doing here?!" Sanji asked the reindeer. Chopper lay in the chest, covered in what you now identified as...

"Stuffing your face with cotton candy? That was for tomorrow's breakfast!" Sanji scolded the smallest crewmember, that quickly began to cry from shame.

"Sanji! I am so sorry! I woke up and got so hungry, and than I smelled the cotton candy!" He munched on a hoof full of sugary webs.

Sanji couldn't stay mad at him and just sighed. Poor chopper looked so guilty, you had to pick him up and comfort him. His fur was a bit scratchy, but you hugged the little guy and let him sit on your arm. He was really sticky and smelled like sugar.

"Chopper, did you make a loud noise?" You asked him.

"No, I was in the chest for a while and ate. Di...did....d..did something go bump in the night???"

After calming chopper and storing him securely on your shoulders, the three of you moved further through the inner rooms of the ship.

Next came the storage rooms - especially dark for their lack of windows, extra creepy because of all the stuff in them. Chopper clang to your shirt as Sanji held your hand. He went in front of you and opened the first door, slowly, shining his light inside - crates, barrels, nothing. He moved the stream of light around, making the shadows dance. Nothing! What a relief.

Bump

Something, somewhere in thay corridor, dared to go bump. The three of you got closer together and Sanji pushed you behind him again, taking the lead. He swallowed hard, shining the light around the dark hallway. The doors were all closed and it was silent again.

Taptap

The sound of something walking could be heard, but nothing was there.

Taptap

Like naked feet on the floor. Sanji's light moved more erratic now, searching the hallway.

"Gh...ghost...ghost" Chopper whined into your ear. It was hard to disagree.

"What the...?" Sanji screamed as he moved the light up to the ceiling! An inhumane contortion of limbs hung there, clad in a red shroud. It looked like...

"Goddammit Luffy get down!" You screamed at your captain, who tried to sneak a massive chunk of meat on the bone past Sanji.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Sanji exploded as Luffy landed with his cheeks full. "I was so hungry! I couldn't wait for breakfast!" He protested, holding his cheek while trying to stuff more meat into his mouth before Sanji could reclaim it.

One hour later

"IS ANYONE SLEEPING TONIGHT???" Sanji screamed, ready to beat the marbles out of Zoro (who was caught sleeping in the cooler), Franky (who did some night-repairs on the mini merry) and Robin, who just wanted to get in on the fun and terrorised you with endless nightmarish creations out of hands and eyes.

"How could you Robin-chan??" Sanji asked with tears in his eyes.

"It was so fun" She chuckled.

"Anyway. I think I am done for tonight." Sanji turned around and left the rest of the crew in the dining room with a late night snack. He looked a bit disappointed and you decided to cheer him up before bed.

"Would you bring me back to my room? I think I am a bit scared after all of that..." You told him and brought the smile back to his face.

"Of course madame!" He offered you his arm and you took it gladly. He led you out to the grass again and looked up at the stars. The nights in the city with all its lights couldn't compare to the clear sky above the open ocean with its abundance of sparkling stars. You looked up for a while in silence, together. Or so you thought- when you saw a movement in the corner of your eyes and looked around, Sanji's big blue eyes were fixed on you. They were so beautiful, reflecting the colour of the sea and the sky alike. His lids closed and his lips moved closer as he leaned down.

Bump

Both of you jumped at the sound. It came from the big lion's head! You looked at each other and nodded.

"Bet it's Nami." You said. Not many possible culprits left.

Sanji took you into his arms and air-walked towards the sound. A dark silhouette stood on the figurehead - a strangely thin, tall one. It turned around, slowly. Empty, dark eyesockets stared at you.

"yoooooooo-" a thin, ghostly voice wailed.

"AHHHHHHHH!" You both screamed as Sanji fire-kicked the thing with full force. It's clothes caught fire so that you could see it fly like a comet to the horizon and come down in the water several miles ahead. While it followed its trajectory you could hear a "HOOOOOOOO" ending in a splash.

"Did you just kick Brook into the sea?" You asked the cook.

"Yes." He answered, swallowing.

"He'll lose all his energy and sink."

"Yup." He answered.

You looked at each other, tired.

Wordless, Sanji pulled his shirt over his head and threw it in your arms. With a perfect form, he jumped into the see, diving smoothly down to save his friend.

A thing behind you went bump in the night.

"Fuck off Usopp I've had enough now" You informed your cremate without turning around. Enough for one night, you thought and looked at the shirt in you arms. It smelled like cologne and cooking.

I hope you liked it and that it was a good read before bed!

#one piece fanfiction #one piece x you #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji #sanji x you #blackleg sanji #sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji fanfic #x you #odp follower event

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kiwiana-writes · 6 months

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WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the "early" (by which I mean it was the middle of Wednesday for me but well before WIP Wednesday usually kicks off) tag, @getmehighonmagic, and to @suseagull04 for one at a slightly more expected time 🤣

I feel a little mean for sharing this? I am asking y'all to a) trust me; b) trust the process; c) trust that any stylistic quirks or inconsistencies, both within itself and in comparison to the rest of my back catalogue, are part of the process. I guess that's all I'll say for now 👀

There were a great many things Alex did not enjoy about waking up. There was the act itself, of course; blinking his eyes open only to be momentarily blinded by the sun pouring in through a crack in the curtains no matter how tightly he shut them the night before. There was the way his dreams slipped away from him as he woke, trailing through his memory like snowflakes, impossible to catch for more than a moment before melting into nothing. There was the immediate caffeine craving his body inflicted upon him, despite it having only been eight or so hours since his evening cup of coffee. Seven hours, perhaps. Certainly at least five, most nights. Though worst of all was the way his phone would light up with notifications—no matter how early he set his alarm, politics was a nonstop calling, all day, every day. Still. Perhaps if Alex had known how few opportunities he would have left to do so, he could have found it in himself to embrace the sensations of returning to consciousness a little more.

Forever feeling feral for whatever y'all are up to, so tags below the cut and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

@affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @celaestis1 @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @dumbpeachjuice @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @hypnostheory @iboatedhere @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @lilythesilly @myheartalivewrites @nontoxic-writes @orchidscript @rmd-writes @roseapothecary @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland

#wip wednesday #kiwiana-writes #wip: STFAU #I know at some point either someone will figure out what this is or I'll spill #but in the meantime I feel like I'm leaving a really patchy trail of breadcrumbs lmao #my writing mojo is weirdly busted at the moment so I'm just rolling with whatever appears at the ends of my fingers haha

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awritesthings1 · 7 months

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How to Disappear (Epilogue)

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Anakin says goodbye to you on Naboo.

ao3 link

Anakin never thought he would have to bury another body.

Yet here he was, on Naboo, staring at the foot of a white marble statue beside the lake where he had found you. It was of a woman posing with her hands laced at her stomach, gazing mournfully in the distance. She stood at least a few feet taller than him and didn’t seem bothered by his presence. He wondered how long she stood there. By the discoloration, cracks, and vines that snaked around her body, he assumed a while.

Anakin liked that about statues; they never died. They remained frozen in time, unable to leave, unable to understand, and immortalized into precious stone. Maybe that was what charmed him about Naboo. Life is vividly captured in its foundations, unlike Tatooine, where it drained like grains of sand down the dunes, or Coruscant, where the sun only reached the towering skyscrapers.

Green fields speckled with unusually colorful flowers painted the hills of Naboo. Not one leaf, twig, or rock felt out of place. The warmth on his skin is welcomed, and the dark robe he usually wore is forgotten in the cockpit of the small ship he had stolen on that fateful night.

The halls of the Imperial Palace follow him in his dreams. Marble pillars line that never-ending rug, which reached in either direction with no end in sight. This dream isn’t like any other he had. No amount of pinching or prodding is enough to keep them at bay. The bloody shoe prints return, staining the never-ending rug, and the hairs on Anakin’s neck shiver violently. The sharp tug of a taut string vibrates in his ear; it’s the blood rushing to his face. You call his name from somewhere far away. And then, and only then, will he wake up in a sweat.

In a strange way, he haunted that place as much as you did.

But here, on Naboo, there was life. Life lived on, and so he would too, even if you weren’t here to experience it with him. Which is why he chose to bury you here, at the foot of a Nabooian statue, to protect you wherever you were. It helped that the statue looked somewhat like you. If he really wanted to, he could close his eyes and imagine that the shadow cast on his face was you. Maybe he would fall for the ruse, but ultimately, no matter how hard he tried, he would open his eyes, and the stone-cold woman would still be staring off into the distance.

His shoulders fall.

Anakin never found your body. After Palpatine’s death, he left half alive, stumbling through the halls of Coruscant, shivering with a throbbing headache and a gaping hole in his stomach. The only evidence he had been there were the bloody footprints after he limped through the pool of Palpatine’s blood and down the never-ending rug that he sees in his dreams. He stole a small ship to escape—the smallest one he could find—while bleeding out in order to make his departure as discreet as possible. The next days were a fever dream, where he relied on his botched memory of Obi-Wan teaching him how to administer first aid to himself. He had only been a Padawan then, and he thought Obi-Wan was only trying to waste his time because why would Anakin need to learn something so trivial when there were always medical droids and ships nearby?

Weeks passed until Anakin could stand without the feeling of fainting or the urge to vomit. He had been extremely lucky to survive the attack and have half a mind to set his new cramped ship to autopilot before he lost too much blood. It was when he was starting to come around that he grabbed his dark robe, which had been tossed aside carelessly, and found your lightsaber buried in the pocket. He cried that night and popped a few stitches from his effort.

Anakin returned to the Imperial Palace when his wound was healed enough. He planned to recover your body so he could bury it on Naboo with your mother. But when his small ship rattled into the Coruscanti atmosphere, all that was left of the Imperial Palace were ashes. Rioters and rebels alike mobbed the place, trashing the ancient marble foundations and setting fire to the remains of the Empire, taking what was left of you with it.

So he figured if he couldn’t bury your body, he would do the next best thing and bury your lightsaber at the foot of the marble statue on your home planet. Anakin didn’t necessarily believe in trivial things like an afterlife. Neither the Jedi nor the Sith believed in it. But he would be damned if he didn’t honor you in some way. Later, he would try to find your mother so he could give her the respect she deserved in her death since he never gave it to her that day when she was alive.

On Naboo, the wind whistled through the trees and water lapped at the sandy shores, but Anakin could not hear a thing. The silence, he realized, was his own. A great, big, loud silence deafened the rustling of leaves and the howling air.

The thundering rhythm of his heart beat inside his chest, roaring into his ears. The more he listened to it, the louder it grew. Live, live, live, it told him. But how could he, when his heart was trapped in a prison others call a ribcage and its true home belonged to a body that was lost in the ashes of Coruscant?

When the ringing in Anakin’s ears settled, he heard the crunch of a twig behind him. He must really have gone mad, he thought to himself, because his gut twisted in an eager way as if somehow your ghost would be approaching him. He could feel it now, your hand reaching out to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it in that reassuring way that was so uniquely you. As if you had the power to fight away all his monsters with one gentle action.

And it all came down to one thing: Anakin couldn’t move on. Even during his time as Vader, he haunted the remains of the Jedi Temple as a clothed, dark figure—a ghost of who he once was. And while he didn’t have a glowing blue figure, he floated through the halls as one, haunting the late hours of the night like one. Some people whispered his name as if he were one. Death followed him like that.

“Anakin.”

He could hear her voice whistle his name in the wind. If he weren’t straining his ears, he would have missed it like he missed most things in his life. Palpatine, you, even the Jedi Council. And how about those untold stories that unfolded behind closed doors, distant whispers, and Obi-Wans tired eyes? Flames consumed them when the Jedi Temple burned. The hungry fires would devour all those unsaid words, leaving behind ashes scattered across the galaxy. It would be fruitless to attempt to stitch those brittle grains back together.

The wind whistled again, beating violently at his robe that flapped in its path. There was that sound again, and that airy ghost that climbed his spine like a ladder. The wind was his new ghost.

The wind causes his robe to flap so violently that he mistakes the feeling for a hand on his shoulder. Of course, this was the wind’s new way of haunting him.

“Will you turn around?”

His blood runs cold. The weight on his shoulder was a hand made out of skin—the flesh and bone kind. It was too good to be true. It couldn't be.

The wind, his new ghost, strangled the air out of his windpipe, sucking all the oxygen out of his lungs for itself. Which was fine; Anakin didn’t have a use for his breath anyway. But suddenly you were standing before him as you did many years ago, and it took everything in him to not lunge forward and trap you in his arms out of fear that you might slip away.

“How?” Anakin felt like he was floating outside his own body.

“The Force?” You shrugged.

You stood in front of the white marble statue, facing him as if it were perfectly normal to rise from the dead and stand on the soil that was supposed to be your memorial. Anakin doesn’t understand it, and he never thinks he will.

“Do you remember that night I nearly died?”

Anakin’s eyebrows furrowed. No, Anakin wasn't there when you died. Palpatine told him that you crashed on your mission to the Outer Rim.

As if you could read his mind, you add, “no, the night I nearly died. When I was trapped in that cave with all those people?”

Anakin nods, still confused about how this was supposed to make any sense.

“I think I did die that night. I was bleeding out in that cave, and then the next thing I knew, I was at the top of a cliff, watching that village burn..." You trailed off. “But I wasn’t alone. I could feel the Force, it was there with me. I think the Force took half of me that day; I never felt whole after that.”

Anakin tried his best to listen, but he was too overwhelmed and had to fight the sickness that quelled in his stomach. “Then how are you here? Am I imagining you?”

Your hand reached to cup his jaw with a small smile.

“No,” you laughed, a buttery sound that melted his muscles. “What I meant was that I think I’ve been split between two worlds. The living and the dead. Half of me was with the Force, and the other half of me was with you.”

Anakin’s head was too full to process the information. All he could think of was you, you, you…

Your flushed cheeks burn against the back of his eyes in a hauntingly delightful way. He refused to blink until it was engraved in his mind.

Alive, alive, alive…

“I saw your body on Coruscant,” Anakin tried to breathe.

“I know…” You stepped closer, holding his head more firmly between both your hands. “I was—”

The look in his eyes stopped you. You could see frozen lakes beginning to crack under the pressure.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, pressing your forehead to his. “It’s all over now.”

You could feel Anakin’s heartbeat thundering against your chest, and with a shuddering realization, he could feel yours too.

Anakin licked his dry lips. "So... this is only half of you?” His arms held you firmly to his chest, afraid to let go.

“With you, Anakin?” You brushed the scar across his eye. “With you, I am whole.”

And after spending what felt like eons adrift in the Force and feverish nights spent fighting off nightmares, you closed the distance and pressed a kiss of life against his lips.

It took Anakin a month to tell you about your mother. Not that you ever asked him, but he knew he would have to break it to you eventually. You were cuddled against his bare chest with his metal arm draped comfortably around your waist when he told you.

The Nabooian wind that blew through the cottage window sent a shiver down your spine. Anakin had forgotten to close it the other night, being too absorbed in the summer heat of the countryside, only to forget how the temperature dropped once the sun sank beneath the horizon. It was a strange but welcome feeling to awaken like this, wrapped in his arms. Anakin had developed a summer tan and the habit of hogging the sheets, the latter of which you summed up being because he kept forgetting to shut the window.

It had been a month of this routine. Shiver, roll over, pry the sheets from Anakin’s grip, and snuggle into his body for warmth. Usually, you both stayed like this for a while until you begrudgingly retreated away from your nest to begin your day with the window still ajar. It was either the rattling of the plants at the open window or Anakin’s own tossing and turning that would rouse him.

Today, it was neither. It was your ice-cold nose poking into his collarbone and the tickle of your hair against his skin. He watched you sleep, slowly running his metal fingers up and down your arm as tenderly as he could. You shiver in response, and the hairs on your arm stand up.

Guilt consumes him immediately.

You were still fast asleep, but Anakin hated disturbing you in any shape or form. Which is why he lay there that morning staring up at the ceiling while ignoring the growls of his stomach. A month of selfish bliss he spent catching up on lost time. A month spent putting off all the ugly truths that would shatter their blanket of happiness.

Your mother was the largest shadow that hung over him. He knew he had to break the news eventually. Since living in Naboo with you, it would only be a matter of time before curiosity got the better of you and you went out in search of your mother. It burdened him greatly that he would have to be the one to break the news to you, but he supposed it would burden you more if he never told you.

The truth left his lips that morning while you were tangled with him in bed.

“I know.”

You said it so plainly that his blood ran cold.

“You knew?”

“Yes, I saw her when I was dead. We hugged and talked. She forgives you.”

Anakin inhaled sharply. Forgiveness was the last thing he deserved. His mouth opened to try to make sense of it, but he was at a loss for words. Your mother had no reason to forgive him. He wondered if you only said it to appease him before pushing away the thought, knowing you better than that. Anakin’s flesh hand grabbed one of yours, which was resting on his chest, giving it a squeeze.

“Do you forgive me?” Anakin’s voice was only a crack above a whisper.

You blinked up at him blankly, the same way you did when you were a Force ghost. It was somewhere between curious and confused.

In that moment, you saw him for all he is, for all his shades of blue refracting off him and into your light.

It was quiet, then:

“Yes.”

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yakool-foolio · 7 months

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Something I've always loved about Yakou, from when I first read his prequel story all the way to playing his DLC, is that he's so utterly passionate about the Nocturnal Detective Agency. Even when his ideal office was just a kid's dream, name written in sharpie on a makeshift badge, he never lost his creativity. The process of understanding how much his agency means to him went as follows:

Going through the prequel story first, as I did when playing through all of Rain Code, this section stands out.

In hindsight, it harkens back to his childlike wonder of becoming a detective, a Master Detective at that. To teen Yakou, Mitsume made his career seem not all like it was cracked up to be. Even though Mitsume turned out to not be a Master Detective, there's no doubt his perspective on what his future job would be like dampened ever slightly. After Mitsume eventually moved out to get married, Yakou remained sanctioned in what's most likely the same office building he and Mitsume worked in, the one with his favorite rooftop lookout. When Yakou was brought in to be trained at the WDO, it probably didn't help much either with his extravagant expectations. From what we see of the footage provided by Makoto, it's simply a tall office building. Obviously we don't know what it's like on the inside, but it wouldn't be surprising it it isn't far from the bland office he's grown used to. But despite the lame facility, it's filled to the brim with the most interesting, fantastical people in the world.

When he returns to Kanai Ward after his training and eventually gets kicked out of the office building, what exactly does Yakou do next? HE GETS A MOTHAFUCKIN' SUBMARINE! I have a headcanon/theory that Yakou found the submarine in a ship graveyard after the Blank Week and the city's isolation. After having a hole punctured into his heart by the loss of his wife, this is probably the most love he's poured into anything since then. That ship is his baby and he cherishes it! He loves Kanai Ward, but he loves his new agency just as much, maybe even more. It's a home inside a home. A place that is truly his own. And boy does he love to show it off!

He is so proud of his agency--his home--he's made for himself! After being bummed out by Mitsume's regular office, Yakou took it upon himself to be far from boring. He gets to do what his teen self wished for with Mitsume, and excitedly shares it with his detectives whom he now mentors.

It makes the sinking of the agency at the hands of the violent Yomi all the more upsetting. I'm sad and glad we don't ever see Yakou's initial reaction to realizing his agency is gone, cause on one hand you can imagine his sorrow flaring into absolute fury at Yomi, fueling his mission to bite back at Amaterasu; on the other, I don't think my heart could take seeing him so upset. But hey, Makoto replicated and recovered as much as he could of the agency in the end, and Yakou is beyond ecstatic.

Fuck that Makoto most likely wiretapped the place to all hell, Yakou gets his home back! Let him be happy, he deserves it!

And now we skip, or well, rewind, to Yakou's DLC. This is when we finally learn that the Nocturnal Detective Agency has always been with him, a childhood friend that he rekindled his companionship and love for. Home is where the heart is. Written in sharpie, his dream lies right in the palm of her hand.

And five years later, long after that dream became a reality, when he's loved and lost so much, he still carries it with him.

#our house in the middle of our house #passing out at my desk and never waking up #master detective archives: rain code #rain code #rain code spoilers #yakou furio

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m3r1m4r5u333 · 22 days

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Hey buddies... LET'S GET TRULY DELUSIONAL. And talk about buddie and curses!!!! How

"I see crows." truly is

"I see dead people." ... And how that is...

"I know you... I met with you once upon a dream..."

Because I FREAKING KNOW THIS CROSSOVER WE ARE WATCHING, with Eddie's journey into this delulu ✨dreamland ✨

to date his dead wife.

And no, I'm not talking about Vertigo now. (Though I don't doubt that either. The show is super into intertextuality)

It's the Sleeping Beauty!

And it has been foreshadowed a lot!

The team being superstitious:

worrying about .

CURSES...??!!

Worrying about birds who are omens of death and illness? (Maleficent's was a raven, another bird who is an omen of death. Ours are crows!)

Remember Buck being warned not to go chasing waterfalls? Well he did!!

Recognise this scene from the 9-1-1?!!!

"YOU TWO HAVE AN ADORABLE SON!"

And rewatch that scene in which Eddie enters Buck's apartment with Chris, before he goes to meet Kim!!

Buck talks about baking a lasagna (a dish with many layers!) and when he says he might have cracked himself trying out this recipe, and ended up burning the dish, since Eddie is smelling smoke...

As Buck says this, he glances up at the

very familiar bicycle hanging on the wall.

Burning spinning wheels, that's the lasagne written here!!

Eddie suddenly sleep-walking, dreaming about dating his dead wife.

Really, Eddie is simultaneously dating Marisol, Kim, Shannon and Buck. That's a damn bicycle in flames, alright!!! How bisexual is this love square? Very!

So it's...

"Don't go chasing waterfalls, Buck!"

And

"You two have an adorable son!!"

And Chris, waking up, screaming, from his nightmares,

And Buck asking what Eddie thinks triggered the nightmares - maybe Shannon returning at Christmas?

Remember what initially triggers the whole curse plot in the Sleeping Beauty?

It is Maleficent being excluded from the celebration, the party celebrating Aurora's birth!!

Isn't that quite a parallel to Shannon being excluded at Christmas, the birth of baby Jesus, right?

This is her, outside, looking in.

And when Chris wants to make a wish (another parallel to the movie, fairies and wishes!) to Santa...

Eddie invites Buck, not Shannon.

She is again excluded from this birthday party, like Maleficent was.

Really, remember the team worrying about curses,

Remember how we were warned not to torment, anger, attack crows.

Remember crows being named.... Buddie?

Remember one particular crow following the team around.

Remember being told crows are the birds associated with death and pestilence.

Well, isn't that bird Shannon, Kim?! Isn't she also a crow, a bird associated with death?

So...

maybe buddie isn't just Buck and Eddie.

Chimney does name a crow buddie, so crows are Buck and Eddie,

and Buck and Eddie are crows...

But there were lots of crows in that episode.

Maybe Shannon and Eddie were the "original buddies".

Friends to lovers, and both of them crows in their own way. They certainly lashed at each other when they hurt each other. But they're also loyal. They tried again, and even after divorce and death... Shannon still shadows Eddie as a ghost...

So maybe buddie isn't just about Buck and Eddie. But also... About another ship.

"Bud... Dies."

After all, in this crossover... Aurora, the princess, the one who was destined to die... She was also called "Rose". And in the world of Disney, roses symbolize love.

And what is young love, like Eddie's and Shannon's, but a young rose: a bud.

Bud... Dies.

So yes, I rather feel like we are watching a crossover of 9-1-1 and

The sleeping Beauty

and that powerful sleeping curse... It has just been activated in Eddie. He is dreaming, delusional!!

And hey, Hen just revived a dog called rosie!!

She revived rosie, right before we get Eddie spiraling to madness, into a dream land, trying to date his dead lover. That's a dead bud, revived!

So yeah our prince got too close to the spinning wheel (Buck? coming out as bi, maybe triggering something)...

And the way Eddie excluded Shannon at christmas, threw her out, didn't invite her, angered her, inspired her to show up at the team's Christmas event, to embarrass Eddie by loudly airing details of their sex life to his collegues...

Maybe that's what triggered the nightmares, Shannon returning at Christmas. Being uninvited, excluded, that's what made Maleficent dish out her revenge, and cast the sleeping curse on the kingdom.

The are just so many similarities between this film, and the show.

Maleficent's outburst after realizing her cronies have been looking for a baby all this time...

In the Monsters, the team slipping past the crows in disguise, disguising the boys to look older, hurt... To avoid being recognised by the disgruntled crows.

Then these persistent crows...

Remember how Chimney starts talking about the crows to Maddie? He asks her if she wants to know a secret:

"I see crows!"

Much like... the famous line...

"I see dead people."

Eddie seeing Kim, and dreaming that this will surely all work out perfectly, that she won't be at all freaked out this stranger who thinks he knows her, is his husband, and she his dead wife??

Yep. Eddie thinks this will all work just as nicely as in the Sleeping Beauty,

when the Prince just shows up, being a total stranger, and sneaks behind her, takes hold of singing Rose's shoulders to dance with her (like a total creep!)...

and when this freaks her out,

he just tells her not to fear her because

"He recognises her from a dream??" (And he kinda does actually, in the movie Philip meets Aurora when she is a baby, so they saw each other when they were younger. Like Eddie thinks he knows Kim, from his past life.)

Isn't this scene of Philip and Rose meeting really curiously similar to Kim's and Eddie's meeting.

In the Sleeping Beauty... Rose is just having fun, singing to herself in the Woods, not meaning anything by it when she sings "Once upon the dream"...

Isn't that similar to Kim basically singing to Eddie

"I know you, I met with you once upon the dream"

when she shows her the beach candles, ones she doesn't know Eddie associates with memories of Shannon?!!!

So Eddie is receiving messages she never intended to sent. There is no "I know you", Eddie just thinks there is.

So yes, I think this is what we are watching right now. A sleeping curse that's been activated.

Kim and Eddie. Shannon and Eddie.

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

Yet I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream

But if I know you, I know what you do

You love me at once

The way you did once upon a dream

I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream

I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem

But if I know you, I know what you'll do

You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream

And ultimately...

It's Eddie, finally having that long overdue meltdown about Shannon dying. After all, he's never had it. We see him destroy a room when he learns about the death of his friends. With Shannon? No strong reaction, ever, just some quiet tears. That's barely a reaction!!!! Obviously Eddie is quite capable of meltdowns!!

So. Eddie hasn't really faced it, that she really is GONE.

This is what's happening here, Eddie is starting to spiral because he hasn't processed Shannon's death.

This is why we are getting Once upon a Dream, now. Because no, Shannon wasn't perfect, their love had lots of fractures, but he did still love her. It's apparent from the way he keeps trying to find her again and again. Like she isn't dead.

Remember the way Ana dressed so similarily to Shannon? Really, their clothes were almost identical.

And then Eddie startles when Ana visits the fire station and Ravi thinks Ana is his wife, Eddie keeps staring at Buck, and when Buck asks if he's sleeping or just pretending...

Eddie says he doesn't want these things to wilt, looking between Ana and Buck. It's not about salads, he doesn't want his roses to wilt. His great loves.

So asked about sleeping? Eddie says he was trying to, until Buck interrupted. Because that's how the curse is broken in the film, with true love and persistence!!!

And Buck? What does Eddie say to him?

"You never give up, do you?"

Yes. This is the "locked yard mystery"!!!!

"There was never a ring, there was a fence.", Buck and Eddie, talking in the kitchen before Buck tells Eddie he'd still take him. I rather think this "fence" is built of roses!!

And Buck... He is the type to hack that fence down, to get to Eddie, to wake him up!!

He's a fire fighter. He can take down any door, all he needs is the right tools, and enough time. That's what he says in his coma dream.

Oh, and the reason why I think we have crows instead of ravens? I think it's because our story is very bisexual, and ties to a film that looks super bi-coded to a modern queer viewer. Because Maleficent is basically the bisexual fairy, okay! Her signature color is purple, she enchants a woman who also loves a man,

she is the fairy who is too wild and scary and excluded from a party celebrating Aurora's birth (go watch Verilybitchie on YouTube, learn your queer history. How another weather phenomenon's, Pride's 🌈 birth wasn't actually an inclusive celebration. Bisexuals not welcome, among others.)

And the buddie mascot animals being crows...? Crows are also queer history. They are queer subtext, and distinctly bi.

The show has made references to the Wizard of Oz before, that's a classic film full of queer subtext. So go watch the scene in which Dorothy meets Scarecrow. He's the character who Dorothy doesn't at first notice... Who is stuck at a crossroads and tells the audience that he cannot make up his mind, and People do go both ways!)

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vinciwolf · 1 year

Text

Loyalty Pt 5 (2/2)

(Recom)Na’vi!Miles Quaritch x (fem)Na’vi!Reader

Warnings: SLOW BURN, THIS IS AN EVENTUAL NSFT SERIES, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, capture, romance, reader is female

Warnings for this chapter: reposted this bc I found some errors and also the tags weren't working Finally, the second half of part 5!!! Bring tissues!!! Fluff, tension, angst, violence, animal death, things are finally boiling over!

Notes: Na’vi spoken in italics AND brackets now to clear up any confusion in this chapter.

Tags: @deliwrites @ikranwings @lovekeeho @luciddasher @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @avatar-lover @justasimps-blog @mechformers @perseny @dakotali @ragingloser @worldofmunson @whxre-bxby

You awoke to the hint of sunrays ascending into a purple hue of morning dawn on the horizon. The corner of your lip upturned when the arm around your waist pulled you closer atop the chest you rested your head on, ear listening to the soft thumps of Miles’ heartbeat, your hand lazily set upon his sternum.

Sand shifted beneath your body when you stretched up to peek at the sturdy Marine who still kept his eyes shut, not wanting to move for a few more minutes. It had been a very late hour into the night after starwatching when the two of you laid down to get off your feet, only to slowly descend into sleep on the beach shoulder to shoulder.

“Miles…” you start, tone soft and hushed. “Miles, we…should go back…before anyone thinks we’ve run off.”

A hint of a smirk inched forward on the Recom’s cheek, finding a small bit of humor at your recall to what he had told you inside the floating mountains.

Getting up was hard as the sand was pillowy and warm, but brushing off the particles from your clothes was even worse seeing that your pants had a hole in it for your tail, allowing some of the granular substance to get into your ass crack. Maybe sleeping on the beach wasn’t so much a good idea let alone a romantic one.

The walk back to camp was quiet save for the sounds your feet made shuffling through the pale beach, sun entering the sky and casting itself onto the waking world around you. Not wanting to disturb anyone, you gently got onto your bedroll and stilled yourself, making it seem as if you never left. Miles did much the same in his cot. But there was an eye that peeked open and sneakily watched your elusive return, making the kid grin briefly before returning to his dreams.

You soared fast above the water’s edge. Sprinkles of water dusted your face as the large waves crashed into each other below. The sounds reverberated your soul, making the head of your Ikran tip up to glide higher away from the oceanic chaos. Soon the objective of this rough flight came into view: the SeaDragon. It was mighty in size and glared the bright light of the sun off its giant, metallic frame.

Flying in with Miles and Lyle, Sylway flapped hard and landed atop the helm of the SeaDragon. Your feet landed with a bang on the roof as did the other two large Recoms when they dismounted, just for them to hop down with audible thuds onto the deck where the captain stood with a long scowl. Being only seconds behind them, you were about to do the same until you halted when Miles rotated his weight and extended a hand, the light blue of his palm welcoming for you to take—and you did with a visible smirk. The Colonel’s hand firm as he helped you down. Then the captain let out his voice causing your ears to tip with annoyance since you knew a voice like that was attached only to the worst of insufferable douchebags.

“Are you the arsehole commandeering my ship?” Scoresby whined with a heavy accent.

That was Miles’ cue to saunter toward the captain, having an elbow arched from his fingers idly sliding to rest over his pistol.

With a fanged smirk, he admitted huskily, “That would be me.”

Your cheeks flared hot at the cool touch of his voice hijacking your senses. From this angle, your eyes feasted along the arm resting on the holster, studying the flexed muscles swollen under azure, striped skin. He knew what he was doing and it was unfair how he withheld himself last night, only sparing you a kiss to the fucking forehead, so you gladly drank up whatever you could find during these missions.

Not realizing the air passing over your mouth dried out the skin, you padded your tongue to wet them. But there were another pair of lips that weren’t exactly dry, instead quite the opposite.

Inside, Scoresby and Garvin introduced themselves as you stood near the scientist from the other side of the glowing table that showed a map of island locations.

“There’s probably fifty villages out there,” one had mentioned.

“Fifty—one hundred—we’ll search them all,” Miles countered.

“You can’t just come in here and take over my ship! I have quotas to meet!”

Your eyes that were fixed on the captain slowly trailed to the Colonel who leaned his body and lengthy arms on the holographic surface.

“I’ll be nice once, then I won’t,” he smiled with mock friendliness, ears folding back.

You heart skipped when he said that. He was ready, by any means necessary, to finish what he started. Then it dawned on you just how deep with was getting. War was here. Nothing could prepare you for the coming storm – the whole point of the Recombinants’ existence – and that made you anxious, and fearful. You hated how the RDA would waste life just to consume everything. Hated how Miles and every person that was rebirthed as Na’vi would perish eventually while Ardmore could care less.

Inwardly, you scoffed. Just cogs in the machine. Nothing more.

But maybe you could keep at least one of the Recoms alive.

You had to. Your heart begged of it.

You knew the RDA was ruthless, so you begged Eywa to prolong those brief moments when Spider laughed or to feel the hairlike touch that set your body on fire when Miles' pinky grazed yours amidst a crowd at a boring meeting. But stalling was not their forte. They would claw forward, burning the whole world down, to get what they wanted. You understood this, teeth grinding together as your heart wrenched witnessing village after village ravaged. Ardmore would have her scalp, no matter how much it pained you to see her loyal Recom at his worst.

The Metkayina were shoved onto their knees and threatened with voltage weapons swelling a knot into your throat too hard to swallow down. You understood that power too well.

Stood before you were Miles, Prager, and Lyle holding the chief and Tsahik hostage. The Colonel lifted up a portrait of Jake and demanded them to tell where to find him.

“These are sea people. Forest people don’t come here,” Spider earnestly explained.

Then the Tsahik regarded you desperately, “[Please, stop this madness! You need to leave!]”

“They don’t know anything!” Spider shouted.

Your heart was torn, unsettling your whole body while begging the villagers to help find your friend. But several of the Metkayina around you kept talking and yelling which made the Recoms and human soldiers angry and begin yelling themselves. Trying to keep up with the scrambled threads of conversations, you got onto your knees and focused on the Tsahik in desperation.

“[It doesn’t matter what you tell me, just give me a direction! Any direction!]” you spoke fast.

Mentally, your cussed yourself out for asking her to lie, but then quickly recalled that these people didn’t even have a word for lie. Her voice was swift as she told you that she didn’t know where Jake was, but you kept interrupting her in an attempt to get her to understand that she didn’t have to tell the truth – you only needed a random location to suffice. But being scrambled with your try at buying time, you didn’t notice that the Recoms were tired, especially Miles, who got increasingly irritated behind you. Then your blood ran cold when three bold words came from the Colonel.

“Shoot that animal!” he shouted, pointing at an Ilu.

Then a loud blast rang through your ears causing them to sting, whole body curling in from the sudden noise. Then the villagers cried and hollered watching the creature float dead in the water. You swiveled where you crouched and looked to the water, eyes rounding in shock, lungs deepening with hard breaths.

A few feet away, the kid made it clear his disgust. “What the hell are you doing???”

No… no, no, no!

You felt like a failure. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Your feet were faster than your thoughts as you stood and said very firmly, almost a hiss, “…Miles.”

“They don’t know anything! What you’re doing here is wrong!” Spider screamed. “Please!”

Then Lyle was pushing the end of his rifle into your backside, stinging your flesh as the barrel was still freshly hot.

“Choose your next words carefully,” he warned.

That was when you had enough.

“You’re not pressing the knife where it hurts—” you turn around and face the Corporal, image reflecting off his black shades, this time his gun at your ribs “—and next time you threaten me—” you glare through your brow with a hint of your sharp fangs glinting in the sunlight “—do it to my face.”

Then you took Spider, who you loved and raised, and trudged away from the chaos, Miles not even stopping you. You couldn’t cry, not in front of them. The deep rot in your chest returned and ate away the last lingering bit of hope you tried to salvage in this daily hellhole. Why did you even stay again? Oh, right, the thing around to your neck. You were trapped.

Had he felt nothing? Had those moments of touch and comfort mean anything, or was he just playing along to get a kick out of it. Did he get off knowing that if he wanted to take you, nothing could stop him. How could you resist? You wanted so badly for things to be better, despite the gaping hole manifesting itself in your heart having to watch countless communities destroyed.

Eclipse had fallen hours ago. The dock was quiet and lifeless from the Recoms and crew tucked away in the hull of the ship to catch some sleep. The air was still aside from the critters going about their business zipping through the air or the occasional scampering of something in the woods far off beyond the ship's pier. Despite the deep ache to run towards freedom as you looked at Sylway, who had perched herself for slumber, you hugged your knees from the sting in your eyes, a lone tear crawling down your cheek, tail furling. Ears then flicked to the oncoming sounds of a grunt and shuffling behind you. Part of you wished it was Spider, but you knew those footsteps with the heavy thuds atop the spacious roof of the ship’s bridge, only part of the ship that gave you some semblance of privacy, belonged to someone else.

"You found a good hiding spot," Miles' voice reached through the endless silence that had settled long ago.

Your stomach lurched as you tried to contain your emotions with tears begging to trample forward over the ravine. It was hard to look at him, heart jumping in response to his presence nearing to where you sat. He was so close yet it felt like he was far away where you could not reach him. You yearning to be at his side faded into sorrow. Mourning for what could have been if things were different. Mourning for what could still come to pass if you caved selfishly and said fuck it all.

“I couldn’t find you when we were debriefing. I could’ve used your input...”

You sneered, "Just your box of secrets to exploit whenever you please."

“Don’t make this difficult. We both knew this would have to happen to weed out Sully.”

Enough rage was flowing through your body that you hadn’t realized how quickly you stood up.

“Did you actually care!? Or would you have kept me collared all along like a good pet until you’d find the time to discard me and Spider when you were done with us!?”

Your words struck a chord in Miles causing his tempter to rise and piss out his mouth, like the jarhead he was, not thinking why he let the bitterness flow effortlessly as he spoke.

“You think I care about some kid!? We ain’t even the same species!”

Blood boiled and ran hot through your veins triggering a reflex you didn’t know you could possess. You swung your hand to slap him, but he caught your wrist midair, clasping it hard enough to leave a mark.

"Don't try me, woman!” he spat with venom. "I could have you down cold in a heartbeat!"

Yanking yourself from his vice, you laughed mechanically. It was unnatural and forced as you dwelled in the irony, the burn of your wrist still fresh as you rubbed the pain.

"You're right—" you meet Miles' stare with equal fierceness, tears wiggling along your vision "—you could take me right here, right now, in front of everyone—” your arms spread wide open “—and there'd be nothing I could do about it.”

Then you clutched the device on your neck and jingled it loudly in front the Colonel, pointing out the obvious truth to his statement. You were a dog. Nothing you did since Ardmore strapped this bloody thing on you has been free will. And it tore your guts up knowing you had still fallen for the Marine bastard anyway.

Miles’ eyes widened when it became clear what his words meant, aggravation causing his jaw to tighten when he grasped that he had been stupid and blind. Not once did he have to use the collar for his advantage. Not once. But it was still there waiting and smiling for him to indulge. Shoving a hand in his pocket, he brought out the device to your collar and hit a button.

Everything moved slower as you absorbed the clanking noise hitting the roof below.

Your raging temper rapidly smoothed itself into a calm stream of clarity.

Free.

You were free.

Fingertips with a featherlike touch, careful and unsure, hovered where the bulky collar should have been to then finally press along your exposed skin, breathing shallow and overwhelmed. It felt strange for your mind to process but your heart raced. Then your senses came to with the loud drumming of Miles’ steps. He hunched over and snatched the circular device.

“I don’t want your loyalty bought!” he shook the collar in your face before chunking it over the bridge, landing somewhere forgotten on the dock.

Within, your gut screamed at you to keep your feet still but you were at your breaking point. Lungs felt like they were filling up with something hot, like you’d float away if you didn’t get fresh air despite being outside. Your face displayed fear, yet something else was being calculated behind your look. Miles’ brow drew close as he put together what you might do next, silently pleading for you not to do it.

But you were off and skipping down the human stairways with great thumps as you sprinted to Sylway with only one instinct playing through your every fiber: run.

"Motherfu-" Miles whispered irately to himself while he bounced down and ran to Cupcake, taking off into the night sky after you.

Your heart raced, exhilarated by being in the air. It felt wrong to run, almost like a betrayal, but you wanted to flee for so long that you didn’t recognize yourself in this moment as running.

Miles then appeared beside Sylway, causing her to screech, Cupcake batting her wings harshly to keep up with your Ikran’s crazed flying as you desperately searched for anywhere to be safe.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" you yelled across the loud thunder of wind passing your body.

But the Recom held firm, not knowing if he had lost his goddamn mind or kept up because he didn’t want you to hurt yourself as you flew like crazy over the giant waves roaring below.

You got excited when you noticed a giant fracture that split up the side of a mountain, banking hard to enter the fissure. Sylway passed under the thick vines that hug down the rocky opening, the walls of the tunnel humming as you made your way deeper into the cavernous heart.

Inside, bioluminescent spores and other huge fungi covered the long columns of the stones jutting up to the dark ceiling above. You hid behind one just in time as Miles flapped into the cave moments behind you. While the disturbed air stilled, glowing speckles from the plants floated down to cover you and Sylway.

Then a voice rang out to you in the darkness.

“(Y/N)!” Miles hollered.

“Please, I know today was—” he inhaled deeply “—not a clean search like the rest…it was fucked up.”

He felt awful for not being able to fit the right words together.

“I—” he halted again, cussing himself out.

How could he say sorry? He justified his actions because it was in his entire DNA, the only reason he’s alive, to hunt down Jake Sully. But was it worth it if it meant losing you? Something tugged low in his chest as he thought about how he was possibly talking to no one in these caves, that you had lost him – that he was alone.

With nothing left to lose, he exhaled just above a whisper, “Please come back to the ship.”

Please come back to me.

Your face twisted with sadness as you listened to his tired plea. Defeated and lost, you revealed yourself by Sylway’s flapping and readying for flight, the lustrous dust kicking off her wings.

When in the air and outside the mountain, your heart slowly began pulsing normally, so you landed on a beach and hopped from your Ikran, Miles not too far behind leaving his own mount. Your legs plodded through the sand without a destination in mind still feeling the need to get away.

"Now where're you going??"

"I don’t know!” you fling your arms in the air “—just away! Away from you! Away from everything!”

"I know you can't run away from the kid! He needs you!"

"Oh, and like you can't take care of him yourself!? You need mommy's help?"

"Quit acting stupid!"

Miles grabbed your elbow and roughly shoved you around, to which you pushed him away.

"LEAVE ME!" you screamed harshly to then whimpered, tears flooding your vision and dampening your cheeks. "What you’re doing—what you did to those people was wrong!”

"I DID IT TO PROTECT YOU!"

You were taken aback as he snapped, but he wasn’t angry, he was confessing.

“Jake Sully is my mission, but they put a fucking noose around your neck and a chip in the kid’s mask! I had—I can’t just do nothing!”

“But Ardmore doesn’t give a crap about you or the others! You’re just fodder to her!”

“Fucking Christ—” Miles turned and rubbed a hand over his face. He wanted Jake defeated. That was his whole purpose. He tried to alter his decisions subtlety when the General couldn’t see, but this war coming to a head was inevitable. Taking a deep breath, he returned to facing you.

"You can run away. I know you fucking hate me. But please come back, at least for the kid."

Your palms covered your nose and mouth, eyes wrinkling shut hard in an attempt to stop the flow of tears. Could he not see that he was being fooled? The RDA didn’t give a damn about anyone or anything.

This was too much. You faced your back to the Marine and gazed heavenward.

Why did Eywa put you here?

Then quietly on a shaky breath, you said, "I would've followed you into the fire if it meant keeping Spider safe... if it meant keeping you safe."

Miles perked at your hesitant voice, edging him to step closer.

"My loyalty… it was never bought—” you could feel his breath on your neck “—not for you.”

A pressure weighed against the back of your head when Miles’ crown gently leaned into your hair. No words needed exchanging.

You inched your body around until you were face to face with the Colonel.

Then you connected lips.

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