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moonmaiden1996 · 2 months ago

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The Monster Maomao Created Part 3

Your father had not returned that night.

Part 4

These things took time. Time to orchestrate, to implement, to get right. Time you, unfortunately, did not have.

In truth, you had seen him only in passing for weeks now. One glimpse from a corridor, another when he handed off urgent reports to aides as he rode through the outer gates. Between strategy councils and leading drills with the troops, he seemed more like a ghost than man lately. The latest dispatches from the northern border had stripped away ambiguity—rumors turned to warnings, warnings into facts. War no longer loomed like a distant shadow. It advanced—quiet, steady, inevitable.

And with it, your father had vanished into his duties, leaving you alone in the palace with your own battle to wage.

This was not the battlefield he knew—no clash of swords, no banners raised to the wind. This war wore rouge and whispered behind fans. It traded in glances, not arrows. And you had to fight it without him.

Which is why you had done the unthinkable: stepped directly into the lair of one of the most powerful women in the palace—alone.

The private chambers of Empress Gyokuyou were a place of cultivated tranquility, where even silence felt intentional. Amber light spilled through silk-paneled screens painted with cranes in mid-flight and branches of plum blossom that never faded. The delicate scent of camellia oil lingered in the air, subtle and clinging. Toys rested in artful corners—a carved rabbit, a painted drum, a silken ball—placed not haphazardly, but with care. Even innocence was curated here.

The Empress sat before you on a raised cushion of brocade, her robes a symphony of reds and pinks, her posture as precise as calligraphy. Her face was unreadable, carved with years of composure. She watched you with jade-colored eyes. Her lips curved into a faint smile—not cold, but not warm. Perfectly balanced.

"I do not want us to be enemies," you said softly, voice clear despite the weight of the moment. "My path seems already set. I must walk it, whether I would or not."

She lifted her cup and sipped slowly. The soft sound of liquid moving was the only reply for a long moment.

"I have always admired your father. He is an honorable man. Loyal beyond question. He has supported the Emperor since the beginning of his reign."

"It is true," you said, nodding. "My father respects and loves the Emperor deeply. And he holds equal respect for you, and for your children."

Her gaze lingered, searching, as though peeling layers you had thought well hidden.

"And you?"

You bowed your head, the jeweled hairpin in your crown catching the midday sun. Light glanced off it, a deliberate gleam—subtle, but unmistakable. A token from him.

Everyone knew what the pin meant. The pin had been given months before, hidden away in your dressing box, ignored. It was beautiful—carved of white jade and inlaid with white gold—a design too fine, too significant to be random. The Moon Prince's pin. In the court, such a gift was no mere ornament. It marked imperial interest. You were being chosen. Endorsed. And by wearing it now, you stated the choice you had made to the Empress herself.

"I came here because I wish to affirm my devotion to my empress. If this marriage… if it comes to fruition might cause some upset. I wish to ensure that doesn't happen" You straightened your posture as you met her gaze.

She paused. The silence was long, but not empty. Her eyes flicked once to the toddler nestled against her side, to the baby in her arms, before she turned her gaze back to you.

"Would you care for more tea?"

You had not been dismissed. That was something. A small victory, in a place where such things mattered. If you made an enemy of her now, you could very well be suffering the death by a thousand cuts.

"Yes, please." You smiled, demure and serene. A smile shaped not for affection, but diplomacy. You had long ago learned how to wield your expressions like weapons, same as the Empress in this you were equal.

At her signal, her ladies-in-waiting quietly stepped forward, bowed, and disappeared through a side door, their silk robes whispering as they moved. The hush that followed was deeper now, the room emptier. Just the two of you—and the Empress’s children, her preoccupied daughter and son, tucked against her side.

The children were the reason for everything. The reason for Jinshi—or whatever his name was to be in the rear palace, the reason for you needed to be here. Children were always sources of trouble—the need to secure their future, to keep them safe, to even have them. You did not know the Empress well, but you knew she was a good mother, and despite her kindness she would be as savage as any bear to protect her children. You appreciated that. You would be the same. But it made this even more difficult.

Then, without warning she spoke again.

"Could you love him? Truly?"

Your fingers hesitated on the rim of your cup. The question hung in the air. Did you? No. Could you? Maybe. As a young girl you might have been giddy, gushed around the Prince—but as a women you know how truly dangerous it was .

"I think… I could." You pondered. "I know I will be a good wife."

She looked down into her tea. "Jin... Ka Zuigetsu is shy after being isolated from much of court life due to his...illness. He... lacks confidence, even despite the front he wears. He is dear to me… I owe him much. I only want him to be cherished, as I cherish the Emperor."

"I can only try." You offered the words carefully, letting your tone soften just enough. A small show of sincerity—but never vulnerability.

She studied you again, not with suspicion, but with calculation—the kind that had become second nature to women like her. "You would be a fierce wife. Sharp. Loyal. Intelligent. The court would do well to fear you. And you would make a strong mother, no doubt."

Her hand moved gently, almost absently, to brush a lock of hair from her son’s face. He shifted slightly but didn’t wake, safe and warm beneath his mother’s arm. "This war comes too soon, when everything is unsettled.,. It gives people ideas," she said quietly.

You shifted slightly on your cushion. The Empress rarely spoke carelessly. But she was right, the prince was still a babe and with the war, it meant power struggles . And "ideas" could be the most dangerous thing of all in a place like this.

"They wouldn’t dare," you said, voice firmer now. You leaned forward, ever so slightly. "Your son is the only rightful choice."

Her gaze narrowed, not with anger, but with testing intent. "He is young. And there is no guarantee…"

"You will be blessed with more sons. All destined for greatness," you said quickly. It was true the young prince was young, and there were many dangers in the palace.

"And you? You want children, do you not?" Her eyes lifted sharply to yours.

Here it was—the threat. If you bore Jinshi children, they would not be minor princes to be married off to distant provinces. They would be born of imperial blood and martial lineage, noble on both sides. Children with your father's steel in their veins and your mothers connections to the western world, and Jinshi's royal blood, court-born charm and beauty and in anyone's eyes a dangerous weapon. Any child would be a threat that no amount of diplomacy could ignore.

Even now, the Empress must have seen it. How could she not? She was no fool. Her smile had been warm, but beneath it there had been calculation. The measured look of a woman who understood all too well how easily people turn.

You were not the enemy today. Not yet. But if you could establish a truce or an understanding, you and your family might just survive.

"I do." You held her gaze. No point lying. "But… these things take time. I doubt I will be blessed until there is a strong second born to bare the weight of the Emperors legacy."

You hated these layered words, this careful game of hint and half-meaning. Even if you did have a whole brood of strong boys, you would never let them near the court. It was too dangerous. You wanted a safe and happy family. Give them a childhood like you had. But that was not the game. No one would believe you. Why should they? So you played the game anyway, as all women at court did.

"You cannot know that," she said, though her voice softened around the edges. Her daughter toddled past the table, chubby legs wobbling slightly as she made her way toward her mother, giggling.

"There are ways," you replied. "Women have known them for centuries."

She understood. The knowledge passed between you, wordless but potent. Until the heir was secure—until a second son was born—you were not to conceive. It was easy enough to do. The safest thing you could do.

"It would be safer not to have children," she murmured, almost to herself.

A ripple of chill traveled down your spine, though you didn’t let it reach your face.

"I am still young. I have time to take a more leisurely approach," you said, still smiling, lifting the teacup with steady hands. "Though you do tempted me, especially when you show me your beautiful children to sway me into motherhood.'' You smiled the toddler as it chased a rather bashful cat across the room. ''Besides, I do not think you are cruel. You would not ask me such a thing."

"I would never ask that of a woman." Her voice shifted, and then, unexpectedly, laughter slipped from her lips. Not sharp, not mocking. Laughter that came too freely to be false. "I suppose that means you’ve thought about your future with the Prince… He is pleasing to the eye and kind… so kind… If he’s anything like his brother, he’ll certainly enjoy the act of making children." she teased.

Heat crept up your neck, though your smile remained composed.

"I’ll do my best."

"I'm sure you will—if the apothecary has anything to do with it. She has taught me more in keeping the Emperor happy than any other." More laughter, lighter this time. ''I am sure he wont know where or what to do with himself when he finally has you all to himself.''

You paled. For now you did not want to think about what or where he would put himself. Instead you would return home to your home. A tantrically retreat to regroup and plan your next steps. The hairpin shimmered again as you lowered your head, rising to stand.

"Then I think we understand each other. I look forward to our friendship. I will take my leave of you." You smiled and left.

Moments later, the lady-in-waiting returned with a steaming porcelain pot, blinking at the now empty spot.

"Your guest has gone, my lady. Is everything all right?" Hongniang whispered as she poured her lady a fresh cup of tea.

The Empress didn’t answer right away. She watched the steam curl from the teacup in her hand.

"I think so," she said quietly. "I hope so." Brushing her fingertips across her son’s soft cheek.

Xxxxxxxxxx

For now, you had the Empress on your side—tentative though her support might be. Still, it was something. In a court built on hidden knives and folded fans, the smallest alliance could mean survival.

Outside, the sun filtered through the latticework of the garden pavilion, tracing delicate patterns on the polished floor. The boys played among the chrysanthemums and peony bushes, their laughter echoing across the stone paths as they chased each other. When the food was laid out on the low lacquered table, the children rushed over like hungry foxes, settling onto the woven mats with eager hands.

Then—

“My lady, are you well?!”

Jinshi, his cheeks flushed the color of plum wine, his voice rising in panic. You really hoped none of the younger servants were nearby. The last thing you needed was a chorus of swooning girls gossiping about a blushing eunuch fluttering over your well-being or in his current state of dishevel. If one gushing girl saw the sight of his flushed skins you might have a riot on your hands.

“I came as soon as I heard,” he said, kneeling beside you, eyes darting over your form like a physician’s apprentice. “Should you be out of bed? Where is the physician? I—I’ll get you some congee, or ginger tea while you wait. You’re pale—too pale.”

Your brothers froze mid-bite, dumplings still in their mouths. A moment passed—then they burst into peals of laughter, delighted by the spectacle of the flustered young man circling you like a worried crane.

“I…” You blinked up at him, unsure whether to laugh or scold.

“Let me carry you to your chambers,” he continued, voice thick with concern. “The apothecary was right behind me. Apothecary! Where is she? Does your sister have a fever? I’ll send for herbs—a hot bath— maybe your father should be called he —”

Maomao entered just then, a little breathless and very irritated. “I told him not to come,” she muttered with a bow, “but he wouldn’t hear a word of it.”

“How can you say that right now? Tend to her!” Jinshi snapped, hovering so closely you could smell the faint trace of floral incense on his robes.

You sat still, trying not to laugh, as your brothers giggled behind their sleeves.

“Master Jinshi,” you said calmly, placing a steady hand on his arm. “Please calm yourself. I fear your concern is misplaced. I’m quite well.”

His eye twitched at your words. Something like frustration—or maybe embarrassment—flashed across his face.

“If you’re well… then why did you call for my apothecary?” His voice dropped. Behind him, Maomao tensed, her eyes fixed politely to the floor.

You hesitated, realizing your simple request for her to join you had been intercepted by a very nosy eunuch which could unravel far more than you intended. Damn him. You could not tell him your real desire to see his servant.

“I… I have been having trouble sleeping,” you said gently. Not a lie, but not the truth “Yes… And I thought your apothecary might have a remedy to ease my rest. I didn't mean to trouble you… I didn’t think you would get the message.” You eyed him as he blushed bashfully at you. “Please forgive me. That was not my intention.”

You bowed deeply, and when you lifted your gaze, Jinshi’s expression had softened.

“My lady… you need not apologize. I’m only glad you’re well.”

“I’ll prepare a medicine for My Lady,” Maomao added quickly, already making her exit with swift, efficient steps.

Coward, you thought, glaring at her back.

Jinshi, meanwhile, was staring at you again—moonstruck, dazed. His beauty was… unfortunate. Smooth skin, lashes long enough to shame a courtesan, the gentle slope of his nose too perfect for a man. Even his robes did nothing to hide his physique. Too perfect for your peace of mind.

Handsome husbands cause problems. But perhaps, you considered, they were at least easier to bed—easier to maneuver once there. You had heard tales and tricks from women in the bathhouse of all the methods and positions they used to avoid looking at their husbands while they gave them pleasure. At least you would not have to deal with that. It would make taking him to your bed as a husband and a lover easier. You wondered how he would be as a husband. Would he even be interested in that? Perhaps only one way to find out.

“Please,” you said, composing your features into something soft and sincere, “won’t you join us?”

“I… I couldn’t possibly—”

“Please, Master Jinshi,” you interrupted, leaning closer. “As an apology. For troubling you.”

You smiled—not a practiced court smile, but a coy smile, not seductive, but warmer than you had given him before. You regretted it immediately.

Jinshi blushed violently and seemed to melt into his own shadow. “It would be… my pleasure,” he managed.

“Then please,” you said, bowing your head slightly, “sit beside me. Let me serve you.”

xxxxx

The food was a masterpiece of imperial luxury. Steamed buns puffed like clouds, glossy with sweet glaze. Thin slices of roast duck curled atop a bed of lotus root. Tofu steeped in a spicy sauce shimmered beside bowls of pickled cucumber, delicate and pale green. Long platters bore fish dressed in ginger and spring onion, while bamboo baskets steamed with dumplings stuffed with shrimp, pork, and wild chives. Fragrant jasmine rice steamed beside braised mushrooms glistening with soy and sesame oil.

Jinshi writhed—visibly—when you plated his meal with your own hands. He peered down into the soup you poured him with hesitant suspicion.

“I assure you,” you said with a sly smile, “the food is quite safe. All prepared by the palace kitchens, and my servants are thoroughly trustworthy.”

Your eyes flicked toward the silk screen, behind which a couple of blushing maids giggled uncontrollably.

“I… I’m sure,” he said weakly.

You lifted your spoon, plucked a glistening slice of mushroom and broth from his bowl, and slipped it into your mouth. Chewing slowly, you stared directly at him.

“I promise,” you murmured, “you are safe here. No women will chase you.”

You plucked another bite—tender chicken, still steaming—and held it to his lips.

He stared at you, eyes wide, wild, and a little glassy allowing you to bring the spoon to his lips— directly to where you put your lips. His eyes never left yours as he drank greedily, lips lingering too long on the spoon. You might have giggled had it not been so thoroughly satisfying. It would seem he was very interested in you.

The meal continued in lively spirits. Jinshi proved himself surprisingly charming, if a bit overly fawning. But he was attentive to your brothers, which you rather enjoyed. He was good with them, he might be a good father, if the time came, if not a bit of a pushover.

“I want sesame buns!” your youngest brother pouted, lower lip wobbling, while the elder had already begun to sniffle.

“I—I will ask the kitchen!” Jinshi blurted, starting to rise from his seat in panic.

“You will get sesame buns when you finish your vegetables,” you said, voice calm but cutting. “And don’t even think about hiding them in the plant pots again like you do with Father.”

Your brothers flinched, wilting a little under your stern gaze and they weren’t the only ones.

Jinshi went scarlet—and then pale. A thin stream of blood trickled from his nose. It would seem Maomao was right—he did like to be told off.

“Master Jinshi—are you well?” you asked, arching a brow.

“A-ah! Yes!” he coughed, dabbing at his face with his sleeve. “A piece of sweet potato went the wrong way…”

He tried to compose himself with a cough and a dazzling smile, but his eyes flicked up—locked on your hairpin.

“That pin…” he said quietly.

You were surprised it took him this long to recognize it, but glad. If he was to interrupt the evening and spoil a chance at speaking with the indebted apothecary, you were going to make the most of it.

“It was a gift,” you replied, lowering your gaze modestly.

From the corner of your eye, you saw the bob of his throat as he swallowed.

“…It suits you,” he murmured, eye transfixed on you.

You smiled. Yes. Handsome husbands were trouble. But trouble could be useful.

So let me know what you think of this chapter and the concept in general. The reader is going to play hard and dirty but she has a way to go. I would love to know your thoughts on the reader or Jinshi

LIKE> COMMENT> REQUEST

More to come soon

@one-piecelover

#jinshi apothecary diaries #jinshi x reader #jinshi #apothecary diaries #the apothecary diaries

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rollinouttahere-writes · 1 month ago

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Breaking Point Chapter 4

Whitebeard Pirates x Teen GN Reader

7.2k words

First / Prev

Summary: Akainu realizes he has been duped, Whitebeard has a conversation with the mystery caller, and you are left facing your most dire foe yet. Boredom.

Warnings: choking, suicidal ideation, brief mentions of anxiety, depression, and self harm, descriptions of past child abuse, invasion of privacy, brief pregnancy mention

I made some major changes to chapter one since the last update, so please make sure to go reread it if you haven't already. Enjoy the extra long chapter lol

tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap

A trench was going to be imprinted upon the deck at this rate. Akainu couldn't stand still. Not when his mind was racing in every direction all at once.

Those pirates are fucking late.

Akainu stops sharply and shouts up to the crow's nest, “Can you still not see them?”

“No, sir! There's no one around for miles!”

His blood may very well be literally boiling. A vein in his forehead throbs uncomfortably, and he can hear a faint sizzling coming from somewhere on his person.

A hesitant, meek voice calls out to him, “The wind is pretty weak today, sir. Maybe they're just running behind because of that?”

“That didn't stop us from getting here on time!” Akainu snaps at the marine. He stomps closer to the man, easily matching his hasty steps back until he is towering over him. “They are damn near five hours late, and you want to blame it on the fucking wind?! What's next? Did they stop at an island because they were hungry, too? What other excuses are you going to make for those things?!”

“I-I-I wasn't trying to excuse them, sir, I promise!” The marine is bent backwards over the railing in a desperate bid to put some distance between them. “It's just- I have a kid at home, too! I know that I would be worried sick if I was in your shoes, so I was trying to say something encouraging!”

Akainu grabs the man's neckerchief and yanks him closer, not caring to notice that he was choking him in the process, “I don't need encouragement, I need those damned pirates to keep their end of their deal and get here already!”

“I'm sorry, sir!” The marine was clawing at the fabric around his neck and wheezing.

Such a pathetic display. Whatever. He wasn't worth the effort of dispatching. Akainu shoves him away, nearly sending him over the railing and into the sea.

The seething Admiral turns to face the bridge, “Return to port, they aren't coming.”

Surprise flashes across the helmsman's face. “Are you sure, Admiral?”

“Positive.” Akainu strides to where his private office is, “The longer we waste time here, the more time they have to scheme. We are returning at once.”

He doesn't wait for a response. His crew knows better than to disappoint him. He can hear a flurry of boots hitting wood as everyone rushes to unfurl the sails and raise anchor.

It's only because he's on a ship that he can't afford to sink that he's able to keep his magma in check. He can feel the flow of it under his skin, just begging to be unleashed. But, alas, he would be stranding himself in the ocean if he did.

He's too fired up to even consider sitting down right now. He rips open the drawer that his transponder snail is in and tunes it to the desired frequency before sending out the call. It rings twice, then the gruff voice of his superior answers.

“Let me guess. They never arrived.” Despite the conversation having only just started, Sengoku already sounded exasperated.

Akainu inhaled deeply in a vague attempt to calm himself. “They didn't. They violated the terms of our agreement.”

“Pirates didn't keep their word? How surprising. Should I tell the papers about this?”

Sarcasm was the last thing that Akainu wanted to put up with right now. His hand tightens around the receiver and he spits out, “This isn't a joking matter. My (Y/N) is still with them, and I haven't been given any proof of life since the initial communication.”

“I'm aware.” The sound of papers being shuffled followed by pen on paper trickles in from his side.

Teeth grind against each other painfully to the point that he should be concerned about cracking a molar, but he can't be bothered to focus on such a thing. “Is that all you have to say? That Emperor is holding a Commodore hostage, and all you can say is that you're aware?”

“An ex-Commodore.” Sengoku says plainly, as if it was nothing of note. Like he just fired a janitor. “I've already taken the liberty of terminating their position and reallocating their unit.”

“You can't be serious. You better not be serious.” The nails on Akainu’s free hand dig into the varnished wood of his desk and smoke begins to rise.

“I am. You were made privy to my stance on this matter beforehand. (Y/N) abandoned post and got themselves captured. That isn't the kind of behavior I want to see in an Ensign, much less a Commodore.” The sound of a pen being dropped can be heard. “And just in case you need to be reminded, my decision still stands on not permitting any action against Whitebeard. A civilian isn't worth that effort or trouble.”

The wood of his desk smolders, then catches to fire. “Do you honestly expect me to do nothing about this? Am I just supposed to leave (Y/N) in the hands of pirates and not do a single fucking thing to retrieve them? Is that genuinely what you are expecting of me?”

A deep sigh can be heard through the receiver. After a bout of silence, Sengoku speaks again, “I understand that this is your child, and that you have a duty to them as a parent. But, you also have a duty to the Marines. You have a duty to not upset the delicate balance between us and the Emperors. There is only room for one of those duties to be your top priority.

“I'm not going to reprimand you for being distressed, but I hope that you will make the correct decisions going forward. You're an excellent Admiral, and I want to help you where I can, but I can't continue covering your ass when you let your desires and impulses control you. You need to be wholly dedicated to the greater good, and let's be honest here, (Y/N) is no longer a part of that category.”

Sengoku allows him time to stew in what was said. To take it all in and try to force himself to come to terms with it. But he can't. This isn't right. You have always been a star soldier. You've given your life to the cause, and now you're getting chewed up and spit out because you were overpowered by a fucking Emperor.

“If it's any consolation,” Sengoku pauses as he carefully chooses his next words, “I anticipate that (Y/N) will be released eventually. Of all the pirate crews that could have abducted them, the Whitebeard pirates are about as tame as one can hope for. They don't have a history of executing hostages. Once they realize they've gotten as much out of this situation as they can, I'm sure (Y/N) will be released without incident.”

Loath as he was to admit it, Sengoku had a point. If a crew like Beast pirates had gotten ahold of you, it would practically be guaranteed that you would die in their custody. The Whitebeard's, as powerful as they were, didn't pose the same risk level. The worst that had ever happened involving them and Marines outside of direct warfare was the occasional conversion, but he knew that you would never fall for such a ruse. You were far too independent and intelligent to be tricked like that.

But even if you were released, that still begged the question, “Will you reinstate (Y/N)’s position once they've been returned?”

“What?” Sengoku sounds completely flabbergasted, “No. Where did you get the idea that I would? I already explained why (Y/N) is no longer fit for the Marines. Were you not listening to a word I said the other day?”

“I heard you, but that doesn't mean that I agreed with it. You aren't being fair. Anyone of their skill level would have lost against those pirates. I know my soldier, and I know that they have what it takes to do good for the Marines. You can't cut their career short before they've even reached their maximum potential.” Akainu exhales sharply and drags his hand down his face, “What would they even do if they weren't a marine? They would have nothing.”

The sound of Sengoku drumming his fingers makes it through the transmission. “(Y/N) is a sharp individual, I know that they would succeed in anything they applied themselves to. I did them and you a favor and labeled them as an honorable discharge. They should have no trouble finding employment elsewhere.”

That answer wasn't good enough. Akainu didn't want you to wander around until you found something else to do to get by. He wanted you to stay in the Marines and do what he knew you were meant to do. This is all so frustrating, he feels like he's talking in circles.

Without thinking, he barks into the receiver, “What's the damn point if they can't even be a marine?”

The drumming coming through the line stops instantly. “Pardon?” He can hear Sengoku's chair creak, followed by a hand slamming down on the desk, “The damn point is that you'll have your kid back alive and well! The point is that you won't be left to wonder what became of them as your mind fills in the blanks with nothing but worst case scenarios! You could stand to be a little more grateful for the fact that you have a very good chance of being able to see your kid again!”

Indistinct words are grumbled under the Fleet Admiral’s breath. He inhales deeply, then lets it out. He speaks clearly and concisely, “I'm done with this conversation. Do not bring this up to me again.” The line went dead.

This didn't feel real. It was like a nightmare. He's worked so hard to get you to where you were, and now Sengoku has callously ripped it all away based purely off assumption. Was his life's work not good enough to be worth fighting for? Was he insinuating that Akainu had raised a useless marine?

Did he have any idea how bad this would make Akainu look?

There's a tug on his hand. His transponder snail is trying to escape the flames encapsulating the desk but is being held back by the receiver still in his grasp.

… It would be inconvenient to have to make a trip just to acquire a new one.

Akainu picks up the snail and drops it onto a nearby shelf. He stares at the burning desk with apathy. Was there anything important in it? Probably not. Some paperwork at most.

Glass cracks and then shatters loudly. His eyes dart over to the source of the noise. A framed photo of you that was taken after your recent promotion to Commodore. Oh, shit! He lurches forward to try and salvage it, but he's too late. The picture singes and curls in his hands as flames consume it.

Your emotionless face distorts, then vanishes as it's reduced to a pile of ash.

—

Everyone had left the room upon Whitebeard's request to do so. Now it was just him, the transponder snail, and whoever was on the other side of this transmission.

Whitebeard situates himself comfortably and speaks in the commanding voice expected of someone of his status, “We're alone now. You can speak.”

There's a beat of silence, then a stern but feminine voice comes through, “Captain Whitebeard. I appreciate you agreeing to speak with me regarding this urgent matter.”

“It isn’t often that someone from Totto Land wants to speak to me. May I know whom I'm speaking to?” He was running all of the voices of Big Mom's children that he knew through his head, but none of them were a match. It could be one of her daughters that he hadn't met before, or maybe his memory simply wasn't as sharp as it used to be.

“You may have heard of me under the alias of Ms. Edmonds. I used to work with various pirates by giving them insider information on the Marines, but I've worked exclusively with Charlotte Linlin for some time now.”

Whitebeard had heard the name floating around several years back. A former disgraced marine turned informant, either out of spite or genuine necessity based on who you asked. The question still stood on why she was so insistent on getting in contact with him, and what exactly his most recent addition to the ship had to do with it.

“Is (Y/N) still aboard your ship?” Her voice had a noticeable tinge of desperation to it.

His arms cross over his chest and he leans back in his chair. “They are. They’re on the deck with my sons as we speak.”

A loud sigh of relief comes from Ms. Edmonds. Seemingly encouraged by his response, she begins speaking at a fast pace, “Whitebeard, I must implore you to not return (Y/N) to Marine custody. I am prepared to pay whatever ransom you deem necessary. Treasure, medicine, I could even connect you with new potential crew members. Just name it, and I will make it happen.”

“I have already decided that (Y/N) won’t be going back to the Marines.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, then a quiet, “Huh?”

“(Y/N) made it clear that they didn’t want to go back. I’m not in the business of forcing people to do things against their will, much less a child.” Whitebeard leaves the explanation vague. Ms. Edmonds hasn’t shown her hand yet, so he has no reason to either. She’s given him no reason to divulge precisely why he’s made the decision that he has. “What I want right now is to know why you are so invested in that child. I take it Big Mom is interested in them?”

A few theories are swirling in his mind, but one was especially prominent. It wouldn't surprise him in the least if Big Mom was interested in getting a turn using you as a bargaining chip. Linlin loved having leverage over others, and she no doubt knew that she could get a lot out of having you in her custody.

If that is the case, she is going to be sorely disappointed. He has zero intention of putting you in harm's way or triggering another attempt. You aren't going anywhere.

There is a lengthy pause as Ms. Edmonds mulls over her next words, and Whitebeard doesn't rush her.

She lets out a deep breath, then finally breaks the silence, “I'm their mother. I'm sure you've heard the… unsavory rumors about me. I was dishonorably discharged when the affair I was having with my superior came to light after I discovered I was pregnant during a medical exam.”

A bitter chuckle comes through the connection, “They raked me over the coals. Called me every name in the book and told me I had no right to my own child. They took (Y/N) from me the second they were born. I've never so much as held them.”

None of this had been what Whitebeard had been anticipating. Her story was extreme, so much so that he was dubious of how honest she was being. Especially since she had yet to give a real name. “Do you have any proof for this story?”

“I do.” Her words are firm and confident, “I managed to snag my file before I was thrown out on my ass. It includes details about everything I described to you. It will be under the name of Portgas D. Louise, and I can send it over to you right now if you will let me.”

Whitebeard wasn’t sure which struck him harder. Her having the same surname as his son, Ace, or the fact that she just admitted to having the Will of D. And if this tale turns out true, that would imply that you do as well. If he had to guess, you didn’t even know this about yourself.

This situation is becoming increasingly complicated by the second. It’s an insane story, but something in him is telling him that it’s true. He concedes, “Yes, I would appreciate it if you could send it to me at your earliest convenience.”

The woman, who he now knows to be Louise, can be heard shouting orders to mail the file to Whitebeard right away. The voice of the other person is too far away to be made out, but he does pick up on the sound of a door opening and closing.

“Thank you so much for being willing to entertain this. If it’s not too much to ask, I have another favor to request from you.” Louise’s voice is tentative as she asks.

“Go ahead.” Whitebeard can about guess what she’s after.

“I need to see my child. It may have been a bit presumptuous, but I have already begun preparations of a ship to make the voyage to get to yours. Can I trust that I will have your continued cooperation and that I’ll be allowed entry onto your ship?”

Whitebeard lets the question hang in the air as he thinks it over. It will likely be a few days before the evidence gets to him, but if Louise is coming all the way from Totto Land, there will be a wide margin of time for him to lose them if the proof proves itself to be illegitimate. He nods to himself and answers, “Yes, you will have our continued cooperation so long as the evidence confirms your story.”

She lets out a loud sigh of relief, as if she’d been holding her breath. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

“Think nothing of it.” At this point, he had as much of an interest in seeing this woman as she did in seeing her child.

Just as he was planning to end the communication, Louise speaks up again, “... How is (Y/N)? Are they well?” Ah. He had admittedly been hoping to avoid this question. He pauses to try and gather his thoughts, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Her voice takes on a more urgent tone, “What’s wrong? Are they hurt?”

“Not physically… but I’m not sure that I can say that they are well, either.”

Louise urges him again, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s upsetting.”

That gives her pause, but she presses on, “My life has been upsetting. Tell me what’s going on with (Y/N). I’m their mother, I have the right to know.”

“Very well,” Whitebeard relents. He takes a moment to attempt to find the most delicate way to say what he needed to, but there simply isn’t a nice way of putting it. He’s just going to have to come right out and say it. “When we were still planning on trading (Y/N) for safe passage to and from an island, they became despondent. After they were told that they would be back with their father soon, they went into a panic. They managed to wrestle a knife away from someone… and then they attempted to end their life.”

Silence. He can’t even make out the sound of her breathing anymore. After a few seconds, he hears some shuffling and the flick of a lighter, followed by a long inhale. She exhales shakily, and her voice tremors just as much, “How hurt are they?”

“Ace caught the blade before they could do any damage. They are unharmed, and we have them under a constant watch to ensure it stays that way. (Y/N) is in good hands, I can promise you that much.”

“Ace…” Louise mumbles something under her breath that he can’t quite make out. She clears her voice. “Okay. Thank you for informing me. I need to leave to assist with preparations for our ship. I’ll be in contact with you later.”

He reaches forward to terminate the call, but she interrupts him, “Oh, one more thing. I don’t want you to tell (Y/N) that I’m coming. I don’t know what- if anything- they’ve been told about me. I would prefer to be there to plead my case in person rather than letting them stew in whatever Akainu has told them about me.”

The call comes to an end before he even has a chance to respond. She apparently had a good deal of faith that he would honor that request. Which she wasn’t wrong about. He would. You already had too much on your mind as it stands, he didn’t need to be adding more to your plate. The transponder snail’s eyes shut, and it promptly retreats back into its shell for a much needed nap after the lengthy back and forth.

Whitebeard leans back in his seat to take in everything that he just heard. While he still wanted to see the proof for himself, he already felt certain that Louise was telling the truth about who she was in relation to you. Frankly, the bigger question to him was who she was to Ace.

And what Big Mom was hoping to get out of this.

—

There have been many complicated hurdles in your life. Brutal training sessions, unforgiving missions, merciless foes, but now you’re facing a whole new beast.

Boredom.

Due to how heavily structured your life was as a marine, you were never left wondering what you should do. Everything was already pre-established ahead of time, and there wasn’t a single second that was unaccounted for. So what were you supposed to do when that schedule was ripped away from you?

During those few weeks on the run, you had been away from your usual routine, but you were kept plenty busy with surviving and making sure your path would be an untraceable one. But now? Now you have nothing to do, and it’s driving you crazy!

It’s been two days since your capture by the Whitebeard pirates, and it has been a wild ride.

Marco returned last night with the medication they used you as leverage to get. True to Elise’s word, he did not proceed to immediately drag you back to the Marines. Instead, what followed was a private interrogation between you and him where he asked you all sorts of invasive questions.

At first they were pretty tame. Have you eaten? How much? What has your sleep schedule been like recently? Then it started to get more uncomfortable. Do you have a history with depression? Do you often find yourself feeling anxious?

And then he asked the question that you knew was coming. Are you having any thoughts of self harm or suicide?

All of your answers were short. This wasn’t an exchange that you wanted to entertain. You gave vague answers where you could, and outright lied when you couldn’t. None of this was any of his damn business. And what the hell kinds of questions were these? Do you have a history of depression? As if you could have done everything you did as a marine if you were depressed and anxious. How absurd.

And self harm? Please. Akainu harmed you plenty. Why would you do more than that unless it was to end it all? Of course, you still had the desire to do just that, but there was no opportunity to. These people were watching you constantly.

There was a rotation of nurses that stayed up to watch you as you slept all night. If you wanted to go to the bathroom, someone had to be with you. A humiliating experience, but at least the nurses had the decency to turn their back. You declined to bathe last night because of that whole experience. You did not want to be completely naked around these people. Fuck that noise.

Ever since your release from the confines of the medical gurney, you’ve been hovering around the nurses. You didn’t exactly trust them, but they felt safer to be around than any of the pirates. In an attempt to stave off your boredom, you’ve taken to helping the nursing staff out. Cleaning medical equipment, organizing supplies, washing laundry for the infirmary. It kept you busy last night and into the morning, but they eventually ran out of things for you to do and even went so far as to shoo you out of the infirmary with orders to “relax already”, whatever that meant.

Ah, yes. You’re just going to kick back and chill out around a bunch of savage pirates that hunt your kind for sport. Who wouldn’t do that? What a silly goose you are for your apprehensions!

Much like yesterday, all of the pirates were being weird as all hell. The act they had going on yesterday was still in full swing. They were all pretending to be friendly with you and drag you into their games and hobbies to lower your guard. Thatch tried luring you into the kitchen under the guise of showing you how to make bread. You declined. His division had probably been lying in wait to stab you to death with kitchen knives. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. You’d much rather die by your hand than theirs, thank you very much.

The rest of the crew followed suit. Izou tried waving you over when he was making tea. A group of them tried to get you to join them in fishing over the side of the ship. Ace attempted to get you to play a game of cards with him. Admittedly, you had almost agreed to that one just to distract yourself, but you held strong.

Presently, you were sitting against the railing, staring blankly up at the sky while absent-mindedly fiddling with the seastone cuff on your wrist. Marco hadn’t taken it off. Your lackluster response to his questions were probably to thank for that. At least the IV was removed. You’d been anticipating a rush of energy and increased alertness now that there wasn’t a steady stream of presumed sedatives flowing into you, but that had yet to come. You felt just as aloof as you were. You suppose that the seastone exposure was preventing you from fully recovering.

This location choice of yours seemingly had the pirates on edge. You were still being watched closely, that much was obvious. As soon as you approached the taffrail, Namur abruptly declared that he was going for a swim. So killing yourself by diving over the edge was a no-go.

“You look bored.”

There went your peace and solitude. You look over to your left to find a Division Commander looming over you with a smile on his face. It goes to show how desensitized you’ve become that all you felt in response to a clear threat was annoyance.

Swift-Saber Haruta. You’ve seen his face on wanted posters, and you recall him being in the crowd yesterday, but this is your first time interacting with him directly. You aren’t interested in making a good first impression. You scowl at him, “What the hell do you want?”

It does nothing to dissuade him. He laughs and hops up onto the railing, “You sound like Ace when he first got here.”

“Don’t compare me to some damned pirate.” You scoff at the observation. How insulting.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your marine pride,” his mocking tone indicated that he was anything but.

That word bothers you, too. You huff and bring your knees to your chest while mumbling, “Don’t call me that…”

“What? Are you not a marine?”

“Not anymore.” Those days were long behind you. Arguably, you never really were a marine. Not in spirit. Not in the way that someone like Garp was. You never had the passion, the drive. You put in the effort, but it was just an obligation to you. A job that you were forced to do under duress of what would happen to you if you dared to underperform.

“Oh?” Haruta inches closer to you on the rail, “You want to elaborate on that?”

“Not at all, thanks.” You lean against the bars of the railing again and close your eyes, hoping that he’ll take the hint and leave.

That doesn’t happen. Haruta lightly nudges you with his leg, “Okay, well if you don’t want to do that, how about sparring?”

“What?” Did you mishear him? Your eyes open, then narrow at him.

“Vista’s usually the one I spar with, but he’s busy, so I was wondering if you wanted to take his place?” He looks to you, and when all you do is stare at him in confusion, he continues, “You don’t have to, I just thought you might want something to do. It’s your call.”

Sparring with a pirate would be a horrible idea. Suicidal, really. Lucky for him, that’s exactly what you are. You feign confliction, then sigh, “Sure, fine. Why not?”

“Great!” Haruta drops down from the railing and holds a hand out to you. You ignore it and stand up on your own. If he’s insulted by the display, he masks it well. He nods his head to the side, “The room we use for sparring is just over there, follow me.”

You trail behind him slowly in an effort to look casual and not like you’re planning to grab the first weapon you can get ahold of and use it on yourself. He doesn’t appear to be monitoring you as closely as the others. If you make it quick, you should be able to succeed.

As soon as you’re inside the sparring room, your mood sours. There are weapons here, but they’re all wood. Fuck. Taking yourself out via bluntforce trauma isn’t technically an impossible feat, but it would be difficult to do quick enough to be effective. You’ll either be stopped before you’re done, or you’ll just knock yourself out and have nothing more than a splitting headache to show for it.

Should you leave? You don’t really want to be here anymore.

“Any preference?” Haruta is standing by a wall lined with wooden swords.

… Well, this does beat being bored. You sigh and join him by the wall, “My specialty is hand to hand combat, but I’m well versed in many weapons.” You grab the nearest sword, one designed to resemble a cutlass. Standard issue for marines. It’s one of the first weapons you learned to use.

“Works for me.” Haruta picks up a wooden sword of his own and walks to the center of the room, “I’ll go easy on you since you’ve still got that cuff on you.”

You scoff, “Don’t you dare. I’m just as capable with this thing on as I am otherwise.” That was a boldfaced lie. You’ve been lethargic ever since it was slapped onto your wrist. But your pride couldn’t handle being seen as weak regardless of whether or not you had what could be considered a valid excuse.

The attempt to talk tough fell flat. Haruta chuckles at your response. “How feisty, you really are like Ace. Are you sure you two aren’t related?”

“Keep talking like that. See where it gets you.” You meet him in the center of the room and raise your sword into a front guard.

Haruta raises his sword, but when he fails to make the first move, you lunge at him and thrust the sword toward his chest. He easily parries and sheds the attack, then advances toward you with a strike of his own. A clean and beautifully executed riposte that has you retreating.

His smile remains, “You’re only making my case for me by talking like that, you know?”

“Shut up.” Such a witty retort. You’re really bringing your A game here. You guard yourself against an onslaught of attacks from your opponent. Much to your chagrin, you can tell that he’s holding back. This slow speed is nowhere near what you’ve heard he’s capable of, yet you find yourself struggling to hold your own regardless.

He shrugs nonchalantly, “What? I like to talk when I’m sparring. Give me something else to focus on if you don’t like the subject.”

You feint an attack to the left, then strike from the right, making him step back and successfully regaining some ground. Sparring has never been a social affair for you, but you’d rather entertain his request than continue being subjected to him spouting off his inane observations and speculations over your heritage.

Conversational skills have never been your forte. What do people usually talk about? The weather? Themselves? You pick the latter and run with it, “How did you end up among pirates? According to your file, you used to be a prince. That’s quite the dramatic career shift.”

Haruta brings his free hand to his face and closes his eyes, “Aww, you’ve been keeping tabs on little old me?” Despite his eyes being shut, he was still expertly deflecting your attacks.

“Don’t flatter yourself. The Marines keep tabs on all pirates, especially when they’re associated with an Emperor.” You charge forward to try and overwhelm him, but he disengages you with a circle parry and sends you stumbling back. Damn it all, he’s making a fool out of you! You grit your teeth and correct your stance, “Are you going to answer my question, or are you going to deflect that, too?”

“Temper, temper!” He laughs and backs off slightly, which only enrages you further. He isn’t taking you seriously at all. “I will answer it, so hold your horses. And straighten your feet while you’re at it, you’re going to trip over them again.”

This fucker. You straighten your feet, furious that he was right about your footwork being off. Your strikes become more aggressive, but your foe remains unphased. “Did you leave to become a criminal out of boredom? Were you too good for your cushy lifestyle?”

“Eh, something like that,” Haruta stands his ground, blocking each attack with a practiced ease, “but it had more to do with my father.”

That answer wasn’t what you had been expecting. “What? Did he make you leave?” That didn’t line up with the file. The king had put in a request to the Marines the day Haruta vanished, so it would seem that he did want the prince around. He wouldn’t have offered up such a handsome reward for his capture otherwise.

Haruta shrugs, “In a sense, I suppose.” He begins countering your attacks again. “He kept saying that I wasn’t doing enough. No matter what I did, he had a problem with it. My sword fighting skills weren’t good enough, my academics weren’t good enough, my etiquette around the other nobles wasn’t good enough, nothing was. So, since I was such a disgrace in his eyes, I did him a favor and left.”

A pang of familiarity thrums through you. Memories of Akainu criticizing, but never complimenting reared their ugly head. You didn’t appreciate the reminder.

He frowns and rolls his eyes exasperatedly, “And you would think that he’d appreciate that, but no! He got mad about that, too. There’s just no pleasing some people, am I right?”

That was painfully true. It made you feel strange to hear such a sentiment from a pirate. Since when were pirates relatable? You shake your head and throw yourself back into the match. You don’t want to dwell on that, “So did Whitebeard immediately pick you up like some sort of posh stray?”

“Ha, no! I was on my own for a while after that. Around a year, I think? I got by as a bounty hunter, and that worked pretty well for me.” He retreats in small steps as he takes your flurry of attacks. “But then I got a little too big for my breeches. I got greedy and thought for sure that I could take on one of these guys. Thatch seemed like easy pickings. I thought, oh, he’s just a chef, how tough can he be?”

Your swords clash again, and he holds strong as you put your full weight into trying to make him budge. He continues speaking as if this wasn’t a strain on him in the slightest, “As it turns out: very tough. He made a fool out of me and had me disarmed and on my ass in a matter of seconds.”

Haruta pivots sharply, and the sudden absence of resistance sends you tumbling forward. Your arms flail as your torso tips forward in a desperate effort to regain balance. It works, and you right yourself and whip around, visibly frazzled. Your combatant chuckles, “I bet I looked a lot like you do right now.”

Bastard. Why must he insist on comparing you to pirates? You scramble to correct your stance. He lets you, which has you feeling more angry than grateful. You were nothing more than a joke to him. You lunge forward and cut down at him, but he easily avoids it with a fade.

“Your story doesn’t make any sense,” you all but snarl at him. “I asked you how you ended up with the Whitebeard’s, and you tell me a tale of trying to kill one of them. You wouldn’t be here if that was true.”

“Come now, do you really think me a liar? You wound me.” Oh, how you wish you could! Calling his previous move a fade had been a mistake on your end, he quickly revealed it to be an empty one when he leapt forward again. You just barely manage to parry it in time. “I’m telling the truth! After my humiliating defeat, pops offered to let me become his son.

“I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Like you said, it didn’t make sense. He just saw me lose a fight spectacularly after trying to take the head of one of his sons, yet he wanted to keep me around? I thought for sure that it was some cruel joke or a plot to finish me off.” Haruta kept yapping carelessly, yet you couldn’t find a single opening. If you could just rip this fucking cuff off, you would be able to make him take you seriously, you’re sure of it!

“I acquiesced, but more so out of a morbid sense of curiosity than anything. For weeks I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Weeks turned to months, and now I’ve been here for years.”

This story was so baffling that you stopped just to stare at him, “And they just… let you? They were okay with what you did?”

Haruta lightly taps your sword to get you back in the game. Akainu would have taken such an opportunity to show you what exactly happens to someone when they lose focus like that. You’ve got scars for making that mistake around him. Why didn’t this pirate add to your collection of marks?

While you’re floundering in internal confusion, Haruta carries on, entirely unbothered, “I mean, I guess so? One attempt on Thatch was nothing in the grand scheme of things. Ace tried to kill pops like a hundred times, and he’s still here.”

“He fucking what?”

Rather than calling your attention back to the fight, your opponent exploits your shock. Before you can even blink, he hooks his sword around yours and breaks it from your grasp. Your weapon is sent clattering across the floor, and you fall down with it. The thin mat on the floor does little to cushion your fall, but it’s not too bad. Nothing you can’t walk off. Your pride is infinitely more bruised by this than you are.

There’s a gentle tap of cool wood on your sweat dampened neck, “Looks like I won this round.” You glance up and find Haruta grinning down at you. “You aren’t bad, but you could use some more practice. I’m guessing you didn’t keep up with sword fighting much since you prefer hand to hand, right?”

“Something like that…” It was exactly like that. Upon reflection, you’d only ever been shown the basics of other weaponry. Hand to hand combat was the only thing that you ever trained in consistently since that was also what Akainu favored. Your skill level in any weapon that wasn’t yourself simply couldn’t hold a candle to a real master.

A hand is held out to you. Haruta had a relaxed smile on his face as he waited to see what you would do. It was a stark contrast to the rage that would be plastered over Akainu’s face when you collapsed. Akainu would yell at you for the pathetic display. Akainu would kick you across the room if you didn’t get up fast enough, not caring if a rib or two was cracked in the process.

But Haruta wanted to help you to your feet.

You take his hand, and it proves itself to not be a trick. He pulls you into a standing position without incident. That doesn’t prevent you from taking a step back after he does. You aren’t about to be too lax around him.

“That was fun!” Haruta is practically beaming. It’s unclear why. You know damn well that you didn’t pose any real challenge to him. What was a full body workout for you was little more than a warmup for him. “Same time tomorrow?”

He… wants to do this again? He wants to spar with you more? Well, referring to this session as sparring was generous. He no doubt had to have felt as if he had taken on the role of a teacher, and with a very unimpressive student at that.. There was absolutely nothing for him to gain from engaging with you in this way. Yet he wanted to.

“... Sure.” You avert your eyes and pick at your nails. “If I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Excellent! I look forward to it!” Haruta slings an arm over your shoulder and brings you into his side as he makes way for the exit. You’re forced to walk awkwardly alongside him.

What the hell was he doing? You squirm against him, “Knock that off. I can’t walk with you holding onto me like this.”

Rather than relinquishing you, his arm tightens. One of his hands pinches your cheek as he speaks in a taunting tone, “You can’t? Ah, well, I suppose that isn’t too surprising. You could barely walk straight when we were sparring.”

“You asshole-” You flail in his grasp and manage to shove him away. You choose to tell yourself that it was because you overpowered him, and not because he let you.

Haruta laughs at your agitation, no remorse in sight. Piece of shit. How dare he? You storm away from him in a huff, eager to get the hell out of this room and away from him. When you look up at the door, you find it cracked open with several heads peeking through.

Ace, Marco, and Elise are all blatantly spying on you. How long have they been there? How much of that did they see? Your face heats up and you snap at them, “What are you three looking at?! Go away!”

Nonsense. This day was utterly ridiculous!

Taglist: @twotrucksinatree @tigerstarstorm @mu5hro0m @brooks-real @one-piecelover @ratchetprime211 @ithoughtthinks @simpfor2dpeoole @vinillies @selfindulgenceisthekey @deleted-1-800 @weirdothatreads @eravariety @qhevy

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britannias-god-of-war · 5 months ago

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Noted.

We know that the captain is the last to leave the ship when it is sinking. We also know that rats are the first to leave a sinking ship. From this we can deduce that if we make a rat captain on a ship with at least one non-rat crew member or passenger, this ship's sinking would create a paradox wherein the rat captain would have to leave both before all non-rat living crew members or passengers (rat) and also last (captain). Therefore, a ship captained by a rat is unsinkable.

#dispatches from the admiral #signals from hms victory

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britannias-god-of-war · 8 months ago

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Is it appropriate for a flag officer to tell his captain how you love them

Asking for a friend

#dispatches from the admiral #event: trafalgar day #unedited post #shipposting

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rockingbytheseaside · 4 months ago

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✦ When you are his arch-nemesis

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Tartaglia

(Slight tw: mentions of violence and scheming)

✧ The black rook captures the pawn, putting the white king in check.

For Pierro, 500 years of strife do not compare to the centuries of toil between you and him. Your dissension against the Fatui has swathed the organization in a bigger tribulation than any Heavenly Principles or centuries-old feud could. Yet to comprehend your tactics, it left The Jester to spend innumerable evenings in his office, hands clasped as his pondering ends to further frustration.

Two enigmatic masterminds, one of the Fatui Harbingers and the other of the Abyss Order. Like opponents of a cunning chess match, you and Pierro quarreled over each piece and pawn, the cool chessboard transforming into your mutual battlefield.

The white queen moves closer, allowing for the exchange of queens, and placing the black king in check.

To the inexperienced gaze, your whereabouts are unknown, and your moves even more indecipherable. However, to the Jester, whose sharp eye learned to seek nothing but your trail, he learned to dissect your every move like a jeweler appreciating a rare cut gem. He does not shy away from using his pawns wisely, sending out more powerful Harbingers against your Abyssal Heralds.

And just like him, your hand doesn’t shy to strike his pawns. If he sent the Doctor, you’d retaliate with Rhinedottir. And if he dared to dispatch The Captain, your next knight piece, Surtalogi, would respond. You were no simple competitor, you were the rightful opponent to the Director’s scheming mind, his own talents put to the test as you used the Sinners of his homeland against him. He may sacrifice all his chess pieces, yet to reach you is a most stifling feat.

Perhaps the longing for a single glance of you is worth the weight of centuries spent plotting. Whenever Pierro pushes the gnosis piece against the familiar chessboard, he imagines your piercing gaze in the shadows of the Zapolyarny Palace. Is your smile one of derision or provocation? Whatever it is, your hand emerges from the shadows, and the opposing pieces shift. The queenside pawns are traded, a rook stands on a 3 vs. 3 on the kingside, and as ever, the futile waltz of trading and jettisoning pawns continues between you and Pierro.

Yet, for over five centuries, this dance has been his greatest anticipation. Even if he must sacrifice everything to reach you, your elusive nature keeps rendering him motionless in awed admiration.

Draw agreed, neither side can make progress.

✧ The only mutual language between you and Il Capitano has always been the clangorous clash of swords. The sound of steel against steel would reverberate throughout the plains in a tempest of precision, each strike a measured step in your relentless contest. But while the Captain respected you as a rival whenever a duel is foreseen between you two, you abhorred the Harbinger with simmering disdain.

The Captain wore the weight of people's admiration like a cloak woven from responsibility and honor, each accolade another thread in his solemn mantle. You, however, cradled the world’s fear as one might clutch a bouquet of thorn-laden roses. You were not a warrior basked in glory, but a defier of Teyvat’s natural order, remaining in the periphery of shadows as you carried out your tasks. Until he'd show up. The Fatuus would bow to you, knowing soon you two would duel once more, while you stared at him like he's an irksome inevitability one must deal with in their job.

“Do you have to be present everywhere I go? Please make yourself scarce.”

“Then we do not have to clash. Our confrontations can avoid bloodshed.”

But you never heeded him. You despised his calm attitude, how he was cautious with you, how he sidestepped the storm of your onslaught rather than meeting it head-on. Even if his fighting spirit told him to linger closer, to know what it's like to let you dig your fingernails across his back, it was a silent pull he refused to indulge. Instead, he concealed his ambition, his lingering gaze tracing your form behind that pitch-black helmet.

When you fought, Capitano knew you’d accomplish everything to overwhelm your opponent. You would sooner shatter your own bones than concede an inch. The force you exhibit in a single strike leaves an inhuman impact that crushes mountains into rubble, yet the agony that ripples through your limbs remains buried beneath practiced silence. Never once did you step back when you felt the strain of your legs when Capitano retaliated against you.

It took the Captain a while to find you after your ‘tactical retreat’. As he suspected, each battle leaves you in lonesome dishevelment, clutching your sprained limbs, barely able to drag yourself from your secluded refuge.

“Do not lecture me on the fragility of life, Captain. Your words would be hypocrisy against your goal to pursue death from the Shade.”

You hissed, stifling your cry of pain when ice was applied to your sprained ankle. Il Capitano listened gravely to you, his hand gently holding your leg while spreading careful doses of cryo against your skin. His armored fingers gently glided across your skin, careful even when you reluctantly allowed him this close.

“So you knew of my intentions…”

He sighed. It seems the 1st Fatui Harbinger wasn’t the only one clawing toward the leylines, seeking passage beyond the veil. Or perhaps you always noticed how he clutched his chest. Either way, whether you despised him as an enemy or not - he hoped he’d never meet you in the Leylines of the Night Kingdom. He hoped that, at the very least, once all was said and done, you would find solace in never having to see him again.

✧ Il Dottore loathed you. Immensely. The moment he unearthed the truth of your rare blood and unnatural constitution, his obsession took root. He pursued you with relentless precision, weaving elaborate schemes to ensnare you within his grasp. In his usually imperious tone, he introduced himself at last as the 2nd Fatui Harbinger, his title laced with the weight of infamy. Your first response?

“...Who? Never heard of ‘em.”

He gritted his teeth silently. Pursuing knowledge requires finding rare specimens as a test subject, but in his hunt for you, his patience and sanity became the test subjects instead. Due to gratuitously absurd circumstances, The Doctor never managed to capture you. You always slipped past his trail, as if casually waltzing off his snares and several ambushes that revolved around Fatui subordinates capturing you. You don’t even break a sweat, forever conveniently escaping his grasp when the 2nd arrives on site. No fights, no arguments, not even a courtesy of a glance.

…How he wishes to just grip your wrists and cuff you to an operation table to-

Yet the battle of wits must be omitted and instead, a more physical approach shall be initiated. If you deem yourself so highly that you won't spare the Harbinger a word, then it is time he calls you on a proper fight.

“I have waited for far too long. If you continue to be a coward, you'll leave me with no choice but to seize you by force.”

You blinked at him, unfazed by the favorably advanced claymore he materialized within his grasp. Your response?

“...ok?”

Except when you arrived prepared for the fight, you didn't come unattended. A Khaenri'ahn woman stood beside you, far from pleased to be in this confrontation as suddenly this wasn't a private reckoning between you and Dottore. Rhinedottir — "Gold” was now entangled into this.

“What? Did you assume you were the only visionary scholar out there, trying to sample me? You mad scientist folk are all too boisterous. Rhinedottir, you can beat this Fatuus to a pulp and I will rightfully give you a drop of my blood as a sample. If the Harbinger wins, he shall receive it instead.”

Why, you smart little- Dottore felt a vein throb at his temple, your audacity driving him to grit his teeth and lash every curse word in 20 languages available in the Akademiya's archives. You dare all this because you couldn't even bother to fight him head-on, utilizing one of the Five Sinners against him out of malignancy. Yet his time of rebuttals was cut short; the Harbinger found himself now fighting one of the most dangerous inventors of a fallen kingdom. And unfortunately for him, the old hag was as cunning as he is.

Il Dottore swore an oath to do the unimaginable once he wins this competition and captures you. To yank you by the hair and drag you to the deepest part of his lab. You, however, sat there, leisurely at ease, as if indulging in an afternoon picnic while watching the chaos unfold. Young Blood vs Old Blood. The truth is, you know these two would rather annihilate each other to ashes before either of them concedes.

How convenient for you – killing two birds with one stone.

✧ Scaramouche's Inazuman origins are known to many throughout the Fatui Organization. However, few are aware of his keen hatred for the holy Narukami Shrine of Inazuma. Alas, who would be better to oversee the illegal distribution of delusions under the nose of the Shogun than the 6th of the Fatui Harbinger?

Thus, here he was, sent to a formal negotiation to alleviate the tension between the Fatui operating in Yashiori Island and the vigilant Narukami Shrine maids. Formal meetings like these are prevalent in the discourse of politics, and unfortunately, the Harbinger was to represent this operation. Luckily for him (or unluckily), it wasn't Guuji Yae who was dispatched from the Grand Shrine. The Balladeer was met with a different high maiden, sitting elegantly by the tatami mat when he arrived.

“Hm? Just some lowly shrine maiden to bid the fox’s bidding? Let’s hope we’re not wasting each other’s time.”

“And the Ichimatsu doll has returned to its homeland after wandering the foreign theater. Fret not, Harbinger; this is but a formal meeting.”

Oh, so that's how you want to play this. Clutching his fists against his lap, the Harbinger continued:

“The Fatui are just conducting international trade business with the Kanjou Commission to ship local resources like Crystal Marrow from Tataratsuna. Surely the people of Narukami can comprehend that? Unless the Sakoku Decree shut off not only borders but people’s minds too?”

You showed no discontent at Scaramouche’s tone. Instead, you delicately reached for a parchment paper and ink brush - “We have a rare saying in the Grand Narukami Shrine that aids in dispelling unpleasantries in the presence of evil,”

“Spare me your blessings and ofuda talismans, I do not wish to hear your prayers to the “almighty” Shogun fo-”

“We say “screw off” and the bane of all evil shuts its mouth,” - you lifted the talisman with your handwriting, presenting it with an austere smile. The ink is still fresh in the words 'screw off' you just scribed. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

He sees why they sent you specifically.

This went on for months. Each time the Harbinger oversaw the discreet operations between the islands, you were there - convenient as ever. Wasting the Balladeer’s time about how it was a shrine maiden’s duty to “perform cleansing rituals around the infested land of Yashiori” or “to ensure the well-being of all common folk, even if they were Snezhnayan soldiers”. Scaramouche was not blind. He knew you were handily posted there under the innocent pretense of a meek maiden - in truth, you were gathering intel, prying into every shadow where the Fatui’s misdeeds festered.

He couldn’t afford the Shogunate to uncover the truth; that the Fatui were siphoning the wrath of old gods to forge delusions. And you concealed what you knew. Thus, forced to play by your game, the two would end up with passive-aggressive “business talks”

“Surely the Grand Narukami Shrine doesn’t send lonesome shrine maidens so far off? Unless you are as blind as you are horrible with navigation to wind up all the way here.”

“Ah, your concern flatters me. But do not mind me, maybe I am not the only one lost here. Maybe a wandering puppet is also somewhere he ought not to be.”

“Hmph. Watch your insolent mouth. Your Archon will not save you once your pretty face gets decimated.

“Oh? Is that part of your Kabuki theater performance? I do love performances. What’s the name of your role? Is it still the “6th of the Fatui Harbingers” or the previous name?”

You were truly more insolent than that pink fox. This is why Scaramouche abhorred low-profile missions. The most demanding aspect of running an undercover operation is stopping himself from striking thunder into your whole body and putting you in place. Perhaps then you will no longer smile so slyly at him. Even if it fueled his fixation to bicker more with you behind a polite cup of sencha.

✧ “Ancient Moon fragment shard, an inestimable gem, setting for 30 million by Lord Harbinger Pantalone. 30 million mora, Do we have a higher bid than 30 million?”

The auctioneer’s voice rang out in a poised yet urgent cadence, addressing a room brimming with influential faces. Amidst them, Pantalone sat with effortless elegance, a composed fixture among the eager bidders, his assistant sitting nearby as they took note of the ongoing bidding progress. The rare silver debris sat in an enclosed glass casing, displayed in all of its glory to future buyers. They say it was unearthed from the outskirts of Nod-krai. However, tense silence soon settled in the auction hall, for it was clear who the highest bidder was.

“Seems this was faster than I anticipated,” – The Regrator smiled, whispering to his assistants “Get ready to send invoices to the auction staff, we will be leaving so-”

Suddenly, an unwavering voice rang out from the back – “50 million.”

A wave of hushed murmurs rippled through the grand halls, bustle returning to the room. Pantalone didn’t even register the number at first, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion when the auctioneer announced:

“50 million, a giant sum! Now against you, sir. 50 million. Do we have a higher bid than 50 million?”

Pantalone's composed demeanor shifted into uncertainty. He cleared his throat and raised his number – “51 million”

“51 million, do we have a-”

“60 million.” – that same voice called out. More gasps of disbelief ensued.

“75 million!”

“110 million.”

An entourage of ridiculous numbers volleyballed back and forth between the Harbinger and an unknown new bidder. The audience of businessmen and former contenders shot their glances from you to the Regrator. What had begun as an easy acquisition had spiraled into a staggering war of hundreds of millions. All for a single fragment of celestial stone. At last, the auctioneer brought the gavel down for the final closing in your favor – 170 million mora for the Ancient Moon fragment shard, and for the first time in ages, someone outbid Pantalone.

“Find out who this newcomer is,” – Pantalone whispered sternly to his assistant, adjusting his shirt cuffs to conceal his simmering frustration. How does a first-time bidder easily swoop in with hundreds of millions when none have heard of them? When he stood up under the pretense of making light conversation with his “new opponent” he was surprised to see you wasting no time with trivialities with fellow noblefolk. You just came in, received your auctioned item, and left silently just as you came in.

"You see, ever since that auction, I had difficulties reaching out to you. And I couldn't leave such a rare mystery escape me with no introduction," - he spoke when you two met at last, his smile suave as he handed you a glass of champagne "Pantalone, the Regrator. With pleasure, dear."

You looked unimpressed but obliged - "Perhaps you mean a rare luxury getting bought right under your nose, mister Harbinger? No need for introductions. Everyone knows your name."

It was a rare crack in his impenetrable veneer. One minute he is smiling politely at you, but beneath that polished exterior, his mind reeled. Negotiations with you were a lost cause. You never entertained his offers, never indulged in polite courtesies, never once left room for cooperation. Instead, you outbid him: on assets, on stocks, and, on rare occasions, even in exclusive dealerships.

An endless struggle of one-upping the other, a silent war waged in wealth and influence; especially when he sought your company whenever you were present. Yet what deal cannot be sweetened by Mora? As a sign of peace, he sent out gifts of gold and luxuries to you. You would respond with an appreciative nod, stepping closer until you could whisper alluringly in his ear:

“I have no need for such cheap trinkets. Save your pocket change next time. You might need it once I bankrupt you.”

✧ In the days of old, when Tartaglia was a mere merry child in kindergarten - you and him were childhood “friends”. Well, friends, according to his parents. In truth, on the first day of kindergarten when little Ajax greeted you with a big toothy grin - you silently blinked at him and threw a ball in his face.

“Hey! What was that for, you big meanie?!”

“You’re too loud. You could’ve caught my ball instead of standing.”

When Ajax was still a schoolboy, he had the misfortune of being in the same school and class as you. Probably the misfortune of growing up in a small, Snezhnayan town. Now in elementary, recess was a fleeting paradise of snow angels and playful battles, children laughing as they hurled snowballs at one another. Amidst the flurry of winter playtime, he spotted you peacefully building your snowman nearby. So naturally, he scooped up a small lump of snow and threw the ball at your back, a camaraderie way to invite for play.

What you did is run full speed at the boy and tackle him. It was a good thing that the teachers were nearby when they heard Ajax scream as you two almost rolled off a snowy hill.

“They tackled me first!”

“No, he attacked me first.”

These were the fond memories of the 11th Fatui Harbinger, filled with mischief and boyish adventure. Occasionally, he sighs with nostalgia whenever he sees children playing in the snow. He wondered how life had shaped you, now that time had pulled you both onto separate paths, adulthood sweeping away the reckless days of youth. Perhaps he could say he even misses those childish fights with y-

Nope, never mind, you are standing right in front of him now.

“Huh? What… what are you doing here?” - he pointed at you in utter bafflement, seeing you in a unique Fatui uniform.

“Hm? Haven’t you received the news? I am your supervisor from now on.”

He took his words back, he absolutely didn’t miss you. He didn’t miss how calm and collected you were, from childhood to current adulthood, as if nothing fazed you. Most absurdly, how in Tsaritsa’s name does a Fatui Harbinger get someone like you as a training supervisor? He is the 11th; associates such as yourself work under him, even if Tartaglia would never enforce such principles.

“Hold that thought, is this a crude joke?! Who even assigned you?”

You reached for the clipboard in your hands – “Uh, someone by the name… Punella… Pulcinella? Chicken?”

“You don’t even know the name of the Harbinger that employed you?!!!”

This was outrageous. A cruel jest of fate. Why would The Fatui even accept someone for the likes of you in their ranks? Judging by the fact you are sent by the Rooster, you weren’t some lackey either, but one who overlooked formal matters and ensured strict adherence to Fatui standards. Noticing his aghast tone of denial, you crossed your arms.

“Watch your tone, young man. From now on, all your progress as the 11th will be delegated to me. You better show some respect.”

“We are literally the same age!”

Perhaps those two little kids had never truly disappeared, only their playground had changed. Where there were once snowy schoolyards, there were now cold, disciplined Fatui training halls. Whenever you and Childe were in each other’s presence, any semblance of civility or maturity was promptly discarded. Bickering comments and familiar acts of physical nagging always remained. Only Pulcinella, the 5th Fatui Harbinger, stood by the hallway from afar, chuckling with parental mirth.

“Ah, childhood sweethearts. How delightful.”

I am back! Requests are back, feel free to chat or just share your headcanons with me. Otherwise, you may check my art or masterlist with the rest of the fanfics. Thank you for reading.

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etherealrin · 5 months ago

Text

⋆.˚ call it what you want

in which proplayer!sae could care less about what the media was calling you two, if it means being with you again

warnings: none // wc: 647

note: fem reader! badly proofread

the star midfielder of re al, itoshi sae, has a spotless reputation. there wasn't a single stain on his image, not one rumor or dating scandal. it was a matter of heated debate online; there were multiple twitter threads regarding sae's love life. was he truly single? perhaps not into women at all? did he have a secret relationship with another celebrity? if he did, he was remarkably good at never being caught.

so when a photograph of sae leading a girl to a secluded room, shot at an angle where one could only see a flash of glimmering hair, goes viral, the entire internet was wholly appalled.

sae scoffs as you read another article from your phone's news feed to him. "hey, look at this!" your tone is joking as you point towards the device's screen. "they're questioning if i'm some top hollywood celeb. is it because i dyed my hair recently?"

"love, that's stupid. you know dispatch reports more lies than truths." he replies, nose wrinkling at the thought. sure, you were beautiful, more so than any actress, but he really didn't enjoy all of the media speculation he received. was it so wrong of him to want something normal, to have a private relationship?

you'd known sae since before he went to spain, when you were just two simple kids trying to go through life the right way. when he had left, it'd caused a huge buzz in your town, japan finally receiving international attention for football. and you'd long since been regarded as sae's closest friend, so everyone was clamoring to ask you: would he ever come back? the drama queens threw their fits (sae had no shortage of admirers even then), many people called you a liar when you said that you didn't know, the pressure caused you to isolate yourself—done with how nosy the world was being. and of course, you missed sae more than anything. you'd mindlessly twist your fingers through the silver necklace he gifted you right before his flight, the 冴 character shining in the pale moonlight. no one else knew the words he'd suddenly whispered into your ears before he boarded without sparing a glance back; "i love you, i'll swear i'll see you again."

you'd kept that necklace for years, until itoshi sae appeared in japan once more, to play for a mysterious soccer match; and a front row ticket was mysteriously sent to your email. which you had never changed from before he left. nervous anticipation floods you, you were about to see your best friend who you hadn't heard from in years. when you finally spot him on the field, he looked nothing less than a daydream, dark pink locks impossibly perfect even against the wind and sweat. as he's being introduced, sae's gaze somehow found you amongst the crowd—you might have died. though he knew you would show up, he couldn't help but look for extra assurance. and you couldn't have predicted the whirl of events that happened after. his manager pulling you aside, saying that "itoshi sae needs to meet you," sae walking towards you with his head down, evidently trying to avoid the paparazzi, grabbing your hands and guiding you into an empty interviewing room; teal eyes glimmering with unsaid words.

your lips inevitably crashed into each other, you both had heard the cameras click and seen the flash of brilliant white, but none of you cared. "at least i did one thing right," is what sae had murmured after a few minutes, deft fingers tracing across your cheeks. his eyes flickered over the chain he gave you, one you'd never taken off. the media could call it what they wanted, because in that moment it was only you and sae. though perhaps it had always been that way—all it took was for one of you to see it.

a/n: dude i'm so obsessed w this song rn. also i finally stopped slandering sae who would've thought this day would come so soon!

masterlist.

#i keep thinking ab fics to this song so yeah...#i do actually like sae's character a lot #his brother lowk better tho #sae x reader #itoshi sae #sae x you #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi #blue lock sae #blue lock x reader #bllk x you #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock x you #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #Spotify #冴 ; sae x reader

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llamagoddessofficial · 8 months ago

Note

I don’t know if you’ve got this already but what about MC being the boss of the mafia Bad Sanses?

Villainous devotion is the only love I want

With you in charge, Dust is a different beast entirely. You might recall from the previous mafia posts that Dust doesn't want to be under Nightmare's command, so he does precisely what's required of him, nothing more and nothing less. Well... now, he's got a reason to remain. The one calling the shots is someone he loves and admires. He's not just your confidant and secret keeper, he's your secret weapon, the one you send when the job is so important you need to guarantee success. When you want a whole room of 'problems' dispatched so quickly and so silently no one even notices they're dead for several hours. Some say love and LOVE don't mix, but... Dust disagrees.

Horror is definitely not as clean as Dust, let's say that. And he requires a little more affection. But sometimes, unclean is exactly what you want, sometimes a message needs to be loud and clear, and what could be clearer than blood? There's no one he can't find for you, no scent he can't follow back to the source. Dust is precise but Horror is sudden and unstoppable, he strikes a real, tangible fear into everyone. He's a force of nature and he's perfect if you need the world to know you aren't to be trifled with. When he's not ripping people into pieces for you, he's baking! He loves providing for the people he cares for. And when he's visiting Crooks, you're always free to join him and his brother for dinner.

If mindless devotion were a person, it would look like Killer. The others go out and cause scenes, but he stays in and causes scenes, staying close by and warding away any embarrassments that besmirch the good title of 'assassin'. If you want him to go stretch his legs and kill someone, he'll do so happily, but his favourite place is wherever you are. He often seems unaware and silly and borderline clumsy... but it's a front. If anyone thinks they've snuck up on either of you, they are gravely (hah) mistaken. His dark sockets make it impossible to tell where he's looking, and he'll have spotted someone long before they make a move. He's heard many insults - people frequently call him your lap dog. It only bugs him because he's a cat person.

You'd think Nightmare wouldn't do well in the number two position. Considering his history and family feud. But it was never the act of being 'second' that irked him so much - it was feeling invisible, unappreciated, unrecognised. You very much make him feel appreciated. He's your right hand, and he's a damn powerful one, his iron fist solves any issues you may have with not being respected as a small human in an underworld of monsters. He's had proverbial skin in this game far longer than you have, his resources and knowledge are vast, you greatly value his advice and insight. People often mistake him for the boss... he takes great pleasure in correcting them. no, that would be my beloved. He can be the moon to your sun. That suits him just fine.

#llamagines #bad sanses #mafia au

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mystic-writings · 9 months ago

Text

nice to meet you

PAIRING — poe dameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY — despite being placed on parental leave by leia, poe has to leave for a last minute mission. you go into labour.

WARNINGS — pregnancy, fluff, real-word cursing, (likely incorrect) depictions of birth, author has not had kids before, depictions of panic, author writes some cliche stuff at the end but its fluffy so it doesn’t matter

WORD COUNT — 3,227

NOTES — this was supposed to be written a lot sooner than two months after the first part was posted. oopsies? anyway, this can be read as a standalone, but you can read part one here!

masterlist | taglist

“What do you mean, ‘emergency rescue mission?’” Poe glared. “I’m on leave! I’ve got a kid on the way!”

“I’m sorry, Commander, but you’re the only available pilot with the skillset to pull this off this kind of mission,” Admiral Horne sighed, her face showing nothing but apology as she handed the datapad to him. “All of our other qualified pilots are off base.”

Of course, Poe thought. Of course, he was being shipped off to Mustafar for a rescue mission while you were just about ready to give birth.

After looking over the information, he placed the datapad on a nearby console and huffed, one hand on his hips, the other scrubbing at his face. “Where’s Leia? I need to talk to her.”

“She went to Coruscant this morning with Vice Admiral Holdo,” Horne informed him, driving his stress levels even higher. “She won’t be back for another few days, I’m afraid.”

Great.

“Fine. I’ll do it. But the second things get too dangerous, I’m coming back. You hear me?”

Admiral Horne only nodded before dismissing him for immediate dispatch. Poe, ever the rebel, stopped off at the hangar after he suited up, finding you watching Jess as she tweaked something in the underbelly of her X-Wing.

The second he caught sight of you, sitting patiently with a hand cupping the swell of your stomach, laughing gently at something Jess said, everything in him begged not to leave your side. To strip the flight suit from his body and stay right here, by your side. But then you glanced over at him, and your eyes roamed over his body, and he knew from the look in your eye that if he wasn’t going to be facing your wrath, someone else was. And he much preferred that it be someone else.

“What’s going on?” The worry swimming in your eyes as you stood to meet him broke Poe’s heart. He reached up, brushing some hair from your shoulder before his hand slid up to cup your jaw.

“I have a mission,” he said, heart shattering as the worry completely consumed your features.

“But you’re on leave,” you reached up, placing your hand over his. “You’re not supposed to leave the base.”

“Admiral Horne—”

“Does she know you’re not supposed to leave? Does she know we’re having a kid?”

“She does, but—” Poe sighed, his hand leaving your cheek, turning over to grasp yours and pull you a bit closer. “I’m the only one on base that’s qualified to do this. She said it’ll only be a few days. It’s a low-risk rescue mission, I promise I will be just fine.”

You nodded, fighting back the tears that seemed to sneak up on you at any given occasion recently, squeezing Poe’s hand tight. “Be careful, Poe. If something happens, so help me I’ll—”

“I know, you’ll kill me yourself.” Poe chuckled, lifting your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles before taking your other hand and doing the same, pressing a kiss to the ring that now rested on your finger — the same ring you used to toy with when it rested on a chain around Poe’s neck. When he lifted his gaze, meeting your eyes, his voice was quiet. “I promise. I will make it back to you. Both of you.”

“I love you,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to Poe’s.

He leaned forward, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your lips, whispering, “I love you, too,” before dipping lower, pressing the most featherlight of kisses to the top of your stomach. “Stay right there for me, got it kiddo? I love you.”

Poe relished in the giggle his comment pulled from you, smiling bright and kissing you once more before slipping from your grip and out of the hangar, praying to the Maker that he got back before he missed the birth of his firstborn. He’d wring Admiral Horne’s neck if he did.

Three days.

Poe’s been gone on some stupid rescue mission for the past three days. You’d been utterly useless, facing sleepless nights and anxiety for most of the time he’d been gone. Between it all, though, you’d been dealing with false labour pains, the same you’d been experiencing before he left, but it only heightened your panic all the more now that Poe was off-planet.

Rose and Jess had been rotating staying with you, the pair being the only other relief you could find between Poe’s holo-calls every few hours. Every moment in between, though,when you were alone, you twisted the ring on your finger, teeth gnawing your lip with worry. It was the worst you’d ever felt, and the false contractions were doing nothing to ease your fears.

It was the middle of the afternoon as you stood with Jess, arranging and rearranging the items Leia managed to import for your baby on the dresser top that was now home to a change station. Ever since your fourth month, Leia had moved you into a larger room, a mini-apartment with its own refresher and two rooms bordering on the smaller side — but it was more private space than you’d ever had on the base, and you would never stop being grateful for it.

“You know, you’ve put that stack of diapers back in that very spot three times now.” Jess commented from the loveseat. “You need to stop worrying,”

“I’ll stop worrying when Poe gets back.” You told her, wincing as another false contraction rippled across your back. “Besides, Leia said this sort of stuff is normal. She called it ‘nesting.’”

Jess chuckled, leather creaking as she stood from the couch and came to stand beside the dresser, fiddling with a stuffed runyip plush before setting it down. You watched her admire the small set up you had for the baby, multi-coloured blankets and stuffed toys packed neatly into bins, a single crib resting under the window with jungle themed sheets on the mattress. “I can’t believe you’re gonna be a mom. I can’t believe Poe’s gonna be a dad,”

“You and me both,” you laughed, a hand resting on your bump as another small, less painful contraction tightened the muscles in your abdomen. “Seems like ages ago when we first met.”

Before you had the time to reminisce further, the door slid open with a woosh, revealing a very breathless, brightly smiling Rose Tico. “He’s back. Poe’s X-Wing landed, like, ten minutes ago.”

You huffed, relief flooding your veins and soothing the false contraction. You rested a hand on the change table and leaned against it, thumb rubbing at the ring on the same hand as Jess met your eye, smile widening to match your own. “Thank the Maker. And he’s alright?”

“Not a scratch. He’s debriefing with Horne and Leia now.” Rose reported back, stepping into the room. “How’ve things been today?”

Before you even had the chance to open your mouth, your stomach tightened and you gripped the change table, nearly doubling over. This pain was worse than the ones you’d felt before, and as you felt a rush of water down your legs, you knew that this was no false labour.

Your panicked eyes flitted between Rose and Jess, eyeing the puddle on the floor as the pain worsened before subsiding. You heaved a breath through your mouth, desperately trying to calm yourself. It did little to help, a whimper escaping you as you straightened your back. “Oh, fuck.”

Poe wanted nothing more than for this — quite honestly, completely useless — debrief to be over. It was just him, Leia, and Horne in the room, discussing the details of the mission. “Look, it took me a day to find them, and another to tail him and get him to lead me to our guy. The place wasn’t heavily guarded, so I took them out in no time. No one followed me, and I got him back here without any issues. Now can I please go see my wife?”

Of course, you and Poe weren’t married yet, but the moment he put that ring on your finger after finding out you were pregnant, you might as well have been.

“Of course, Commander, you may—” Leia’s datapad beeping cut her sentence short. Poe nearly groaned as she held up a finger to check the urgent message, a grin splitting her lips as her eyes trailed across the screen. “Apologies, Poe. You may go, but I suggest you head to the medbay. It seems your child has perfect timing.”

The wide, bright smile that spread across Poe lips, lighting up his features, sent warmth straight to Leia’s heart. She was glad to see him so happy, and entirely unbothered as he shot from his seat, barely waiting for the meeting room door to open before he slid through the gap, footsteps echoing through the hall as he ran for his life.

By the time Poe reached the medbay, you were already in a private room, sweating and gritting your teeth with Jess and Rose on either side of you. One of the few non-droid nurses conversed with a med-droid as you lay in the bed, dressed in a medical gown with a blanket draped over your lower half.

The door slid open, revealing the sight to Poe, who sighed and was by your side immediately. “Hey, baby, how’re you doing? You okay?”

“Well, my body’s currently trying to tear itself apart to get this baby out of me, so I’d say I’m doing just fine, Dameron,” you gritted the words out, squirming in the bed as Rose and Jess slipped from the room with quiet praises and hands on shoulders, wishing you both good luck.

Poe’s hand instantly slipped into yours, squeezing once as he rested the other above your head, leaning down to press a kiss to your sweat-slick skin. He felt you squeeze back, your grip tightening as you gritted your teeth, another contraction passing over you. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay,” he whispered, leaning his forehead on your temple.

Just as the wave of pain began to pass, the nurse, Jane, approached with a gentle smile. “You’re almost there, love. Is it okay if I check your cervix?”

“Mhmm,” you whimpered with a nod, blowing out a shaking breath as Poe lifted his head.

“How long have you been in labour?” Poe asked, squeezing your hand.

You huffed, tossing your head back onto the pillows. “No clue.”

“What do you mean, ‘no clue’?” Poe furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at the nurse and back at you. “Wouldn’t you have felt the contractions?”

“Not between the constant false ones,” you grimaced. “And before you ask, my water broke when Rose came to tell me you were finally home. So I’m kind of blaming all of this on you.”

Poe laughed, trying to ignore the tears blurring his vision. “Blame it all on me, baby. I don’t mind.”

Jane stood, peeling the glove from her hand as she smiled again. “Almost there, mom. If you feel at all like you have to push, let me know and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice breathy and tired as you squeezed Poe’s hand again. “Will do. Is it okay if my signal is screaming bloody murder? Because I might have to do that if this gets any worse.”

The nurse laughed, heading back to the med-droid, who Poe noticed was now preparing some sort of incubator for the baby. He wondered exactly what was going to happen. He’d heard often that this would be a defining moment in his life; a moment that would change who he was to the very core. Poe had heard plenty about the day he was born from his father growing up, but he hadn’t believed what he was hearing until now, standing in the room with you, watching the med-droid and nurse work simultaneously to get everything ready for the arrival of your child and to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be.

As another contraction passed over you, you whimpered, tears building in your eyes as you breathed your way through the pain. “Poe,” you whispered, your voice tinged with pain, sending a deep ache straight to Poe’s chest. “Poe, I don’t— I’m scared,” you admitted, glancing up to meet his eyes, watching the worry pool in them to meet the fear shining in yours. “I’m so scared,”

“Hey,” Poe called, his voice gentle but firm as he stroked the hair away from your forehead. “We’ll be just fine, okay? All three of us are gonna be fine. Maybe it isn’t how we planned, but we’re safe. And I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Our baby isn’t going anywhere. And neither are you. I promise.”

You nodded, another whimper passing through your lips as you brought your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and scrunching your face as another, longer contraction wracked your body. You grunted and groaned, one hand gripping the sheets and the other crushing Poe’s hand. But he kept smoothing your hair, whispering to you, his voice soothing you through the sound of blood rushing through your ears.

“I think— oh, fuck— I think I need to push,” you huffed, voice strained as the pressure built in your abdomen, stretching and pulling at every muscle in your body. “Jane, I—” your voice crackled, fizzling out with a powerful groan as Jane rushed you, a stool under her and gloves on in an instant.

“You’re doing great, mom. When you feel another contraction, I want you to give it all you’ve got, okay? Put everything behind it and just push.” Jane advised, peeking her head over the sheet that the med-droid had put in place of the blanket.

“Is— Is there anything I can do?” Poe asked, his voice breaking as he adjusted his hold on your hand, the other still resting on the back of your head. He looked like a mess, hair mussed from running and eyes wide, shimmering and worried.

“Be there for her.” Jane answered. “However she needs you to be.”

Poe only nodded, adjusting his stance to bring his lips to your forehead again as you grit your teeth. Your grip on his hand tightened again, the force of the contraction and the effort you were exerting pushing your chin into your chest. Poe slid his hand to rest between your shoulder blades, supporting as much of your weight as you would let him.

The pain had been bad before, but the added pressure of actually pushing made the ache in your limbs unbearable. Your muscles were sore from the constant tension, your fingers numb from the pressure you’d squeezed Poe’s hand with. When the pain subsided, and your head fell back, tears mingled with the sweat covering you. You took gulping breaths, huffing in and out to try to bring some relief to your body. Nothing was registering in your mind anymore; you could hear voices speaking to you, giving you words of encouragement, but the pain was blinding. Every inch of you felt broken and aching, and you knew that even after it was over, you would still feel it.

Then the cycle repeated itself — once more, then another, and then… everything stopped. Relief flooded your body, numbing everything in you as muted cries flooded the room, growing sharper as you came back into yourself. Your vision cleared, catching Poe’s trembling hand as the nurse handed him a pair of medical scissors. Finally, you were able to breathe. Your head fell back onto the bed, the pillow beneath you providing comfort as you watched Jane bring the baby over to the incubator.

Poe had never felt so much love until he heard his child cry. The wails of fresh life, untouched and full of possibility, filled his heart impossibly full, leaving it with no choice but to hurt with every beat, to ache with every breath his daughter took. He cut the cord with blurred vision, tears already beginning to fall as Jane smiled, carrying the baby over to the med-droid to clean her up. As she did, the baby still wailing loudly, Poe returned to your side, cupping your cheek and bringing your gaze to meet his.

“Hey,” he whispered, not trusting his voice. His heart warmed at the tired smile that spread across your face, eyes opening to meet him. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” you muttered. “Is the baby—?”

“Fine. She’s perfect.” He smiled, watching your face light up.

“It’s a girl?” You whispered, voice laced through with emotions even Poe could feel. “We have a daughter?”

Poe nodded, sniffling as fresh tears began to fall. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find Jane standing at your side, holding a loosely wrapped baby Dameron.

“I think someone wants to meet you,” she spoke gently, smiling down at you.

Wordlessly, you took the baby from Jane, who adjusted your bed so you could sit up straighter without injuring yourself. The moment your daughter was cradled in your arms, then against the skin of your chest, you knew nothing else mattered as much as this did. As she did.

“Poe, look at her,” you breathed, choking on your own voice as the baby gurgled, deep brown eyes latching onto nothing in particular with her cheek squished into your chest. “She’s beautiful.”

Poe nodded, his eyes stuck on his daughter as she squirmed, face flushed and brows furrowed. When they flickered up to you, Poe found you staring down at your daughter, a finger stroking her back gently as she lay against you, moving slightly with every breath you took. “Are you still scared?” Poe whispered.

“I’m absolutely terrified,” you whispered back. “But we’re doing this together, and I know you’re scared, too. And that makes me feel a bit better.”

Poe huffed a quiet laugh, his hand settling on the back of his daughter’s head as he kept his gaze on you. “Of course I’m scared. I’m scared shitless. But if I’m sure of one thing, it’s that she’s worth it.”

You sniffled, nodding and lifting your head, capturing Poe’s lips in a quick, loving kiss. When you pulled back, both of your gazes fell to your daughter, who now seemed to be fast asleep, mouth slightly open and a fist curled against your medical gown.

“I think I have a name for her,” you said as Poe sat on the edge of the bed.

“You do?”

“Yeah. I know we were thinking about using Alex, because it would work either way, but…” you glanced down at your hand, resting gently across your baby girl’s back. “I think we should name her after your mom.”

If it was even possible, Poe’s eyes filled with more warmth, tears glistening within them once more as he moved his gaze from the baby to you. “Are you sure?”

You smiled gently, your right hand grasping for Poe’s where it rested on the bed. “Of course I am. Your mother was an amazing woman, Poe. I want to honour that.”

Poe’s smile matched yours as he nodded, adjusting himself to press a featherlight kiss to the baby’s forehead and rest his hand over yours on her back. “Okay.” The baby cooed, adjusting herself under her parent’s combined touch, settling back into sleep as Poe spoke. “It’s nice to meet you, Shara.”

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

poe dameron taglist: @aria725 @eyelessfaces @klillaah (open!)

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x pregnant!reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fluff #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader

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clairewritesfanfics · 2 months ago

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Hi main system 👋. I wanted to ask if you could to invincible variants reaction to reader having a crazy stalker that's just started following her to their home (the stalker just first been writing scary letters to her ) . Stalker ain't even gonna make it an hour but I'd like to see what they're do to the stalker .

Trigger Warnings: violence, gore

It started with notes. Red ink on white sheets, likely torn notebook pages, folded in half and left on the table you considered your spot at the coffee shop. It was just a mild crush. Probably a fellow cafe patron who thought you were cute.

They were relatively harmless, even a tad bit flattering, if you were being honest.

“You look pretty today.”

“Your blouse brings out your eyes.”

“We ordered the same thing today :)”

Then they got longer. Weirder. Your secret admirer upgraded from scratch paper to scented letters.

“You smell nice. Did you change your perfume? Maybe your shampoo? You seem like a put together girl, I’m sure you use the good, fancy stuff. It would be nice if you told me what products you used. Then it would be like we’re together, always.”

“I noticed you came here with some girl friends. They are lovely, but no one can compare to your beauty. You will always be the most gorgeous thing in my eyes. Your face, your hair, your curves. I love every part of you. I promise never to look at anyone else but you.”

Then they outright terrified you.

“Dear angel of the coffee shop,

Who was that man that came with you last Sunday?

You two sat so close to each other I felt jealous just watching.

Is that your type of man?

I didn’t think you would be so shallow. Is it because he’s six feet? Is your gender really that obsessed with height?

Maybe it’s because he’s built like an athlete? You know he will leave you when someone prettier and younger comes along.

I will never treat you like that. I will love you even if someone better wants me.

I also noticed that you haven’t been coming to the cafe as frequently as before. You used to come here every Monday through Wednesday and sometimes during Saturday. I know it can’t be because you’re avoiding me. That’s impossible, because I already told you how much you mean to me. You would be one giant BITCH if you were avoiding me.

I stayed away because I was too shy, but maybe it’s time for us to officially meet.

If you refuse to come to me then I will have to come to you.”

He would resist the instinct to dispatch the man immediately, because he could see you shaking from the corner of his eyes. So he knocks the stalker unconscious first and has his people imprison him, with strict orders to keep him alive and isolated. His priority is you. He apologizes over and over and holds you in his arms until you fall asleep from crying. Mark is struck by guilt all at once. He should’ve taken those “love letters” seriously. But he was too arrogant, believed that when your admirer saw you with him just once then he would back off.

After tucking you in and kissing your forehead he finally confronts the one responsible for all your tears. The man is too weak and too pathetic to serve as breeding stock for the Empire, and death would be too merciful. So Mark chooses the only logical option. He gauges the eyes that dare gaze upon you, tears off the hands that tried to touch you, shatters the legs that ran after you. Mark breaks the stalker methodically, until he begs to be killed.

flaxan, target, VILTRUMITE

Mark is furious. Not at you, never at you. But at this insect that threatened your safety. He hated how upset you were about the letters. He saw enough of human society to know that the madness was not going to stop at letters. He told you as such, so he had you go to the police, and that was why he accompanied you every time you left the house. But you were too selfless for your own good; you didn’t want to wake him up from his nap so you decided to go buy ice cream alone. He woke up groggy, but heard your screaming from the front door. He moved instantly and now, he held your stalker by the throat.

Voice taut but not raised, he tells you to get inside. You’re too afraid to protest so you run back into the house.

When he hears the front door close with a click, he shoots up into the sky, the attacker still in his grasp. This Mark isn’t especially bloodthirsty. He sees torture as a tool for interrogation, but unnecessary otherwise. Face devoid of emotion, he clenches his fist and the man in his hand goes limp instantly. He then throws the corpse in the nearest volcano before flying back to you.

He finds you sobbing in the bed and the ice melts off his body. He joins you under the covers and promises that no one will bother you again.

FULL MASK, maskless, OMNI-MARK, prisoner

His usual swagger is gone. There is no trace of a smile to be found on his face when he stands between your trembling form and the bastard that broke into your house. Mark glares at him. Then you tug his shirt and he takes a deep breath and forces himself to smile as he talks to you, “Go lock yourself in our room, I’ll handle this.”

But you shake your head against his back. Your muffled voice tells him you don’t want to be alone.

He sighs, but he’s not annoyed. He reaches behind him and gives your thigh a squeeze. “Okay. When I give the signal, cover your ears and don’t look.”

He turns his attention back at your stalker, who is glaring back at him, spouting crap about you belonging to him and that Mark is a fuckboy who doesn’t deserve you. That hits a nerve in your husband and he lifts his knee.

“Now, angel.”

With a single strike, the man’s brain and blood splatter on the walls and the floor.

When Mark realizes what he has done he swears under his breath and gently turns around so he could lift you up and carry you to the living room. “I should’ve done it more cleanly,” he says, wiping your tears away, “I’m sorry, I promise I’ll clean it up.”

You let out a laugh and bury your nose in his chest. Protective arms cover your shoulders as Mark kisses the top of your head. He holds you like he’s afraid that you would disappear. He hates to say it but that asshole was right, you deserve everything. He should’ve been better. Should’ve done more.

head cap, mohawk, SHIESTY

Unlike the aforementioned variants, he didn’t wait for the harassment to escalate. When he identified the man who had been sending you those sickening notes, Mark wasted no time in grabbing him when no one was looking. Brought the sicko to an abandoned cabin deep, deep, deep in the woods somewhere on the other side of the world. Mark doesn’t like being away from you for too long, so he tries to work fast.

Mark tries to act cool when he plays with his newest victim. But the fucker keeps calling you pet names and slurs, even sharing his deepest fantasies about you. So Mark rips out his tongue, then his arms and legs, and watches him bleed, all while sharing precious memories you two made together.

sinister, no goggles

image lifted from: https://gamerant.com/invincible-all-alternate-dimension-invincibles-fates/

MASTERLIST | request rules | ask box

#reader #y/n #invincible #mark grayson #imagines #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #invincible x y/n #invincible variants #invincible variants x reader #stalker #dead dove #fem reader

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britannias-god-of-war · 7 months ago

Text

Excuse me?

He looks like my cat that just bathed

#dispatches from the admiral

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harveybwabbit92 · 1 year ago

Text

Grocery girl: Ken Sato x reader Pt. 2

You were a delivery girl who was frequently dispatched to the famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....

Part 1 ,Part3,part4

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It had been almost a month since that strange incident with Sato. R/n tried bury it in the back of her mind but it always seem to find it's way back to the surface, it also didn't help that he was the main topic on every news outlet or at every water cooler gossip R/n has accidentally eavesdropped on. Apparently things weren't going very well for Mr. Sato's career.

Heck, even Meimei seems to have lost her earlier admiration for the baseball player as the younger girl had stopped asking R/n about him and switched to swooning and gushing over some K-pop group she fell in love with to anyone that would listen; R/n included, but that's teenagers for you they loose interest in things too easily, not that Meimei's uncle AKA the Boss was complaining he was just happy the kid was taking her job seriously now! So was R/n cos that meant Meimei would stop following her around asking about Mr. Sato every time she got back from a delivery.

Speaking of...

R/n pulled into Mr. Sato's driveway it seemed like the usual drop off situation until R/n got out of the van and nearly dropped the box of groceries at the sight that waited for her outside, R/n had to take a minute for her brain register what she was looking at first.

She thought it was a dummy left outside, before realizing it was person passed out on the steps and not just any old person. "Mr. Sato!" R/n put the box down and ran over to the downed baseball player she rolled him over to get look at his face and winced. Cripes! he looked like he'd been dragged through hell and back again!

R/n quickly tried to rouse the knocked out Sato by shaking him but that did little other making him mumble incoherently, R/n then through great struggle managed to lift him up off the stairs and was stunned at how heavy the baseball player was as his weight damn near sent them both tumbling backwards!

But R/n managed to steady them both as she pretty much dragged his limp body up the stairs. "This would be so easy for me if you'd just wake up." R/n grunted as she readjusted Ken so she could knock on his door; Hopefully his assistant was here and she could take care of him.

However when the front door opened on it's own there was no one there waiting. R/n stared nervously into the seemingly empty house, she heard nary a creak or breeze as she reluctantly took a step inside and tried not to yelp when the door suddenly shut behind her leaving the house in almost complete darkness.

Then the thoughts started creeping in and for brief moment R/n wondered if this was all possibly all a ruse and that Mr Sato was secret serial kill and that strange noises she heard last time was screams of his last victim...After all, who would suspect the famous baseball payer?!

But then R/n's more rational side reasoned how that ridiculous that was! if there was a killer on the loose there would've been some kind of news about it. R/n calmed herself down and dragged Mr. Sato to the first couch she found before getting his abandoned groceries from outside, R/n went against policy and opened them, grabbing a bottle of water and a Melon pan from it.

She left them on the coffee table for when he wakes up and was going to leave Mr. Sato for his assistant to find, But then R/n felt something off...did the floor just vibrate? Her brows furrowed as her eyes looked up at the ceiling and saw the boxy looking chandelier was swaying around; R/n shook her head. No, it wasn't her business... She got ready to leave, but then the thoughts about Mr. Sato possibly being a covert serial killer came back with a vengeance and she thought if he was hiding someone could that vibration them calling for help?

Checking to make sure Mr. Sato was still sleeping R/n cautiously crouched down low and pressed her ear to the floor only to jumped back with a gasp when she heard the same wailing from a month ago echoing from the floor below, R/n stood up and looked around the house for a way downstairs and found her only option was the large glass elevator cos of course the rich boy's got an elevator.... R/n stepped in and looked for a control button only for the elevator start moving on it own.

R/n tried to duck down in poor attempt to hide herself as it got closer to the bottom floor when it finally stopped and the delivery girl cautiously peeked out to see; well, she expected some kind of blood soaked torture room to be waiting for her, instead her eyes widened in awe at her futuristic surroundings if this was a basement it was like one she'd never seen before! The thoughts about Mr. Sato being a serial killer were quickly replaced with him possibly being a superhero fanboy.

This whole place screamed 'Batcave' as R/n stepped out of the elevator and began to wander around she wondered how much this place cost the baseball player to build? While R/n was gawking she failed to notice the large shadow slowly rising up behind her until it was too late.

R/n looked down and slowly turned around looking up as did her awe struck face slowly contorting into fear as she stared up at the beast behind her and shuddered.

"I never knew the harbinger of death would be so... pink!"

*hours later*

Ken is woken up to by the baby squealing and his alarms going off like crazy! He looked at the time 11 pm...Oh, he missed her 9pm feeding, he wondered Mina didn't wake him up? when he spotted the water and Melon pan on the coffee table and ate and drank those as he made his way to the elevator but it was already downstairs causing him to pause.

Ken's mind was still hazy from juggling everything he couldn't remember if he'd gone downstairs earlier and went outside through the airlock to get back up into the house? Or maybe Mina brought something downstairs for the baby to use?

The answer was the last thing Ken expected as he descended into his base to find the baby playing Daruma-san (statues/red light green light for us yanks) with Mina and...Ken choked on his food when he saw his grocery girl standing in the middle of his base in posed like Hamlet (she holding Mina in the Alas poor Yorick pose) She nearly fell over when she saw Mr. Sato gawking. "What the heck is going-Oh, nonono!" When then the baby noticed him and she immediately run up to Ken and picked him up much to his protest.

While this was going on R/n used this as her attempt to escape to the elevator only for Ken to notice her sneaking away and changed into Ultraman and block her path with his hand... R/n gasped as she looked up at the silver giant completely flabbergasted. "Okay, So not a serial killer." Now it was Ultraman's turn to be confused. "What?"

Cut to R/n trapped in her own containment chamber sitting down bored as she watches a frustrated Mr. Sato pacing around his base. "Y'know, You'll go bald if you keep tugging at your hair like that" she said with a sigh the baseball player ignored her as the delivery girl tried to readjusted herself in a more comfortable position but the tube was to narrow for her legs to properly stretch out. "Couldn't you have given me a bigger tube? this one's too cramped." Mr. Sato shot her a seething glare that shut R/n up as he walked up to her tube.

"Oh, I'm sorry, maybe you should've called ahead before breaking into my house!" He sneered The delivery just rolled her eyes. "For that last time, I didn't break in I found you outside..." Ken snorted obviously not believing her. "Hey you, floating eye lady" R/n called out to Mina who floated over to them. "Doesn't this place have cameras or something" Show this knuckle head I'm telling the truth." She said crossing her arms, while Ken barked a Mina not to listen her and wait for the cops, who were taking their sweet time getting here.

"The police are not coming because I haven't called them." Ken looked at the orb in disbelief. "What? why not?!" Mina played the footage from a few hours ago showing Ken staggering up his front steps and then dropping like a sack of potatoes 15 minutes later R/n's van pulled up showed her jumping and quickly checking Ken over before picking him carrying him inside, and showed how she got into his base.

"Told ya, if this is the thanks I get for helping; then maybe I should've left you there for the birds to crap on!"

"Okay, okay... but that still doesn't mean you're off the hook."

"Oh? what are you gonna do? keep me in this tube forever?"

"No, You going to help me...With her."

Mr. Sato points at the baby Kaiju in the tube next to R/n's who babble happily and waved when he pointed at her, R/n meanwhile got this shell shocked look on her face, she thought he was joking until R/n was free from the tube; but by the next morning found herself in a moving van with her belongs hastily stuffed inside headed back towards Mr. Sato's house.

{Bonus, how R/n ended up playing with Emi:

R/n tried to back away from the pink dragon thing that was staring her down when it took a step near her, She gasped and instinctively covered her face...But, nothing happened? The delivery girl curiously peeked between her fingers and saw Pinky was staring at her; she put her hands down.

The monster moves again R/n throws her hands back up and the monster did the oddest thing it smiled while chirping and clapping at her. R/n was very obviously bewildered by it's strange behavior as she repeated same action a few times before something clicked in her head; Peek-a-Boo.... It's thinks R/n was playing Peek-a-boo with it . "You're just a baby, aren't you?" The Kaiju tilted it's head at R/n bemused.

*Ken Sato has a baby Kaiju in his basement...what the crap?!*

The delivery girl screamed mentally as the baby Kaju chirped and covered it's face with it's hands; R/n knew what it was doing and played along "Oh no, where'd the baby go?" The delivery girl pretended to look around while side eyeing the elevator which the baby was currently blocking, The kaiju pulled it's hands away from it's face as R/n cheered "Oop, there you are!~" the baby squealed excitedly as this floating eye-ball robot suddenly appeared and started asking questions.

R/n explained herself and promised that she wouldn't tell anyone about this if the eye would let her leave. However, as soon as R/n took a step towards the elevator... The baby started sniffling and tearing up causing the delivery girl to panic. "No, no, I'm not leaving I'm not leaving, I promise, I'll stay here!" R/n said petting it on the leg and not realizing just how true those words would end up being in a few hours.

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Cross posted on my A03/Squidgeworld/Wattpad.

#Again pulled another all nighter for this I think I fell asleep at 3am #ultraman #tokusatsu #ultraman rising #emi ultraman #ultra series #ken sato #kenji sato x reader #afab reader

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