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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 1 year

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Monster Like Me (Tyler x Addams!reader)

Monster Like Me (Tyler Galpin x Addams!reader) Word Count: 3888 Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Warnings: mentions of prison treatment, bad mental health, self-hate, a gun, medical procedures, bloody crime scenes, and (obviously) SPOILERS for Tim Burton's Wednesday tv show on Netflix

Tyler Galpin doesn't regret what he did. Or so he liked everyone to believe, even himself. But a visit from a certain empath Addams girl to his prison has him reconsidering his true feelings five years on. Is he truly alone? Or is she a monster like him?

I was never planning on posting anything I write on this account but the show Wednesday inspired me to write a bit of flash fiction (so don't expect a sequel) that I thought you guys would appreciate. Just a silly idea but fun nonetheless to write.

The overhanging light in the interrogation room flickers, casting shadows of ghosts long gone on the two faces presently staring at one another.

The boy sits in his chair rigidly, restricted. Despite his smirk - the kind that oozed charisma, carelessness, and smug satisfaction of being right where he wants to be - he looks uncomfortable. But that’s to be expected when one is bound in a straight jacket and chained to the ground. A catheter tube is strapped into the back of his neck, hooked up to a machine pressed against the back wall.

A caged, raging animal. That is what he is. All he has been since the day he was brought in.

The girl still stands by the door, unwilling just yet to join the chained boy at the worn table that separated them.

Curious eyes scan the boy’s figure. His usually dishevelled curls are even more unruly than before he was taken away. Colour is drained from every inch of him - even his chestnut eyes hold no spark of fireplace warmth like they used to. His cheekbones protrude grossly from under his taught, moon-sick skin. The gashes from his fight with the wolf have long since healed, but as their eyes lock, she senses that the mental scars still remain. Still fresh in his young but twisted mind.

‘You look good,’ she says, breaking the suffocating silence.

The boy raises an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider, more lethal. ‘I’m so glad you noticed. It’s this new treatment I’m using called enslavement. Maybe you should try it some time. It might just bring some colour to your dead life.’

Oh yeah. Very fresh, still.

‘You mistake me for my sister,’ she says taking a step towards the table finally. ‘Unlike her, I won’t break out in hives at the mere sight of another colour other than black.’

His eyes darken at that, and the smirk twists into a sneer. A wave of fury hits the girl as they stare at each other again. He no doubt still hates Wednesday for ruining his life. And despite the fact that he is a psychotic, shapeshifting murderer, she can’t help but feel a little sorry for him at the thought.

‘I’m not here to talk about her,' she continues. 'I came here to talk about you.’

‘You mean you were sent here to talk to me. Not by choice.’

She nods. ‘Indeed, I didn’t have much say in the matter, but…’ She pulls the seat out and finally sits down, her eyes meeting his equal level with equal confidence. ‘I am here, nevertheless. And we will talk.’

The boy scoffs and leans back from the table, shaking his head. Her heart twinges slightly at how his curls droop low over his eyes as he does it, bringing flashbacks of the times they would sit like this and chat. Except the flashbacks included sitting opposite sides of a coffee table, and his curls bounced and drooped because he laughed.

Venomous, hateful eyes peer up through his sandy blond curls. ‘What’s there to be said?’

‘You can start by telling me how you’ve been since we all last saw you.’

‘Do I really have to spell that out for you?’

‘I can make an assumption, but I’m not one to assume without concrete evidence. You should know that.’

‘Should I, though? Because you and Wednesday made it pretty hard to get to even know what your favourite colours were.’

‘Now, do I have to spell that out for you?' The girl crosses her arms, attempting a bored posture. 'Wednesday is a black and white person. Literally. She never hides anything except her subjectivity because it is grey… and she hates grey, ironically enough.’

The silence that ensues is only made more ominous by the haunting shadows of the flickering over-head light. They act as masks as they pass over the twos’ faces, hiding, revealing, and changing their true emotions in flashes.

‘Do you regret any of it?’ the girl asks softly, hesitantly.

The boy chuckles darkly. ’So we are going to talk about this, then.’

‘Eventually,’ she quips, ‘I just wanted to see if you would deflect or accept the bait.’

‘Did I pass your test, then?’

‘That is yet to be determined.’

She pulls up onto the table a briefcase - one of them olden day ones with buckles and latches but made of good quality black leather. Unlatching the main lock, she opens it and reaches in to pull out a manilla folder. With a carefree flick of her wrist, it lands just on the table’s edge in front of the boy.

‘Go on,’ she urges impatiently.

He looks at her incredulously, the snark and the anger from before now replaced by confusion. ‘Really?’

After a moment, she laughs, clinking the side of her head lightly with her palm. ‘Oh my, how silly of me! Forgot that being a psycho means you lose hand privileges,’ she says, her over-enthusiasm cracking a smile on her dark lips.

Before he can have a dig at her, she pulls out a key from her sweater’s sleeve, and he gives her a curious look.

‘How did you get that in here?’ he asks.

‘Wednesday might be the more daring and riskier of us two,’ she says, standing up to walk around to stand behind him, ‘but I have a more subtle way of being rebellious.’

She bends to start unchaining him, then moves to unbuckle the numerous straps holding his arms and legs restricted in his straight jacket. Once she is done, she walks back and sits in her chair, folds her arms, and waits for him to move.

He slowly moves his arms and legs, giving them a stretch he no doubt hasn’t been allowed to have in a long while.

‘Better?’ she asks, her tone impatient.

He chuckles, dead eyes watching her wearily. ‘You must have a death wish, or something.’

She rolls her eyes. ‘Oh please. If you were going to kill me, you would’ve ripped out that gene-repressant medicine and changed into the Hyde by now.’ Her patience is wearing thin now as she leans forward, sparking her to push the manilla folder closer to the boy. ‘But you haven’t, which means I have your curiosity. And I intend to keep that. Now - look.’

His smirk returns, sharp as a knife. ‘You have my curiosity, I’ll give you that. But not my respect.’

The girl mutters something irritable under breath as she opens the briefcase to show something else hidden among the documents stashed inside. Something dark and shiny. Metallic. ‘Make one wrong move and I will-’

‘You’ll what?’ His following chuckle is mirthless, humourless, empty even of despair. ‘You’ll blow my brains out? I’ve heard that threat before.’

‘I was going to say I would blow my brains out,’ she corrects, patting the hidden gun lightly before withdrawing her hand. 'If only so you don’t get the satisfaction of ripping me apart yourself. And isn’t part of the fun hearing the screams of your victims... Tyler?’

That brings a small smile to his face, even if it does edge on manic. 'As much as I would love to chat about what fun it was killing all those people… I see what you’re trying to do, Addams.’

Wednesday was a much more memorable name than (y/n). To everyone back then, she was just her less-psychotic older sister that stood to the side quietly and pulled Wednesday out of trouble when needed. Still weird, but not weird enough, she supposed. But despite her seniority, she was never considered cool like Wednesday, who wasn't afraid to be who she was on a large scale. (Y/n) was happy to be herself too, but in the sanctity of the library, her bedroom, behind her camera. It's why she was subjected to being merely Addams. For the only cool and outcast-y thing about her was her lineage.

But Tyler never used that. Not once. It was always (y/n) when they hung as friends. And despite her objections to her nickname, hearing her real name always brought a little light into her dark and twisted life.

We're not friends anymore, though.

‘I’m not trying anything,’ she replies, batting her eyes innocently at him.

‘Oh yeah, then what’s with this folder? Why risk freeing me just so you don’t have to dirty your own hands?’

‘Why don’t you open the folder and find out.’

They’re dancing a dangerous dance, stopping each other at exactly the right moment when one wants to turn away. By the irritated look in his eyes, she knows it bothers him.

He contemplates the folder for a moment, and she worries that he will try to escape. But he opens the folder, his boney hands shaking as he does.

Surprise softens his features for the first time since she’s entered the room, and he looks like he did the day her and her sister first met him in the Weathervane coffee shop in Jericho. Actually, his face was screwed up in annoyance the first day they met, having to deal with a broken coffee machine. But when Wednesday fixed it, his features softened, and the girl couldn’t recall a moment where someone had looked so… appreciative of their presence.

He flicks through pictures that were previously enclosed in the folder, slowly, shakily. Like he wants to make sure what he is seeing is true and not just ghosts. After all, for those of them on the outside of the prison, pictured in the photos, the boy was just a ghost to them now, five years on.

The pictures are of the town, of the new and old structures that made it up, of the festivals that have come and gone since he last saw it. The pictures are of people, too. She watches him carefully as he holds onto those ones in particular. There is pain as he glides his fingers softly over the aging faces of his friends, she can sense it. His gaunt face tightens even more when he spies a particular pigtailed, dark-lipped girl, the photo capturing her in the middle of showing one of her infamous rare smiles.

‘That was our graduation day,’ the girl says, her voice gentle and quiet. Anything louder seemed inappropriate. But she did not lose her edge. ‘Enid thought it would be a great idea to try and jump off the top of the fountain in the quad on our final day. She ended up breaking four bones and howling like a baby wolf. Wednesday found the whole thing… well, you remember how she was. Rest assured, she is pretty much the same.’

The boy traces the photo, his eyes wide with a wonder and tenderness that the girl is surprised to see. A flicker of the past lights up in his chestnut eyes, and a spark of hope ignites in her chest.

But that flicker dies out, his lips drawing up in a sneer as he suddenly rips the photo in half, then again, and again, until the photo is nothing but scraps on the table. ‘What the fuck is the point of all this?’ he asks, his voice of a mixture of both anger and hurt. ‘What does any of this have to do with me?’

‘It has everything to do with you,’ she replies. ‘Considering your reaction, I don’t believe you’ve fully let go of the past. That maybe after all this time… you still care.’

‘What? Are you a psychiatrist or something now?’

She shrugs. 'I’m an Empath, it’s unavoidable for me to not extrapolate and decipher people’s thoughts and emotions. Especially strong ones like yours.’

‘Well, you’re wrong,’ he snaps back, shoving the photos away. ‘I don’t care about the past. I don’t care about the future. I played my part and it pleased my master. That’s all that matters!’

‘I don’t believe that for a second. And neither do you.’

‘What do you know?’

‘A lot more than you think. As usual, you underestimate me.’

‘Well, try this.’ He slams his hands on the table so hard it makes a thunderous clap that is almost deafening. ‘The only thing that I care about is getting out of here and destroying Wednesday Addams. The only regret I have about the past is that I didn’t kill all of you when I had the chance.’

The words sting, undoubtedly, like a thousand bees stabbing her heart. But the girl holds still, willing herself to keep her composure. She’d heard from the Sheriff himself that his visits usually ended here, when the boy threw insults at his own father and drove him away.

Let’s see what happens when I keep pushing.

‘You speak with such hateful words,’ she says calmly, daring to look him straight in the eye. ‘And yet they hold no meaning.’

‘What?’ he hisses, spittle flaying from his furious sneer.

'Sorry, do I need to speak in laymen’s terms? You. Don’t. Mean. That.’

A feral snarl erupts from him as his hand reaches over the table to grab at her throat. But her hand is in range of the gun, and she is quick to draw it from the bag, unlock the safety and push it hard against his forehead. He immediately stops, his fury dissipating slightly as he reassessed his new situation.

‘I said I’d blow my head off, but I never said anything about not shooting you first,’ she says, each word clipped with deathly promise.

They are so close she can feel his breath caressing her placid face. Surprisingly, it is fresh, like the gently falling snow starting to build up outside as winter settles in. The warmth it brings contrasts the cold of the room, and she stops herself from leaning closer just to feel the sensation once more.

A war wages in their eyes as they stare each other down, but she presses the gun more forcefully against his forehead, and he seems to take the hint. He takes deep breaths as he slowly backs away, his hands raised in mock surrender as he finally sits down.

‘Wise choice.’ The girl places the gun back in the briefcase, safety back on, and folds her hands on the table once more. As if they were just having a civil conversation.

‘You know, pushing people away isn’t the solution,’ she continues. ‘But it does tell me one thing.’

‘And what’s that, Doc?’ he asks, his smirk no longer as sure or as wide. He looks exhausted, the dark circles under his lifeless eyes indicative of the sleepless nights, the mistreatment to his body, the baggage he still carries but does not wish to anymore.

‘That you don’t want people to see you like this,’ she answers. ‘Especially those who love you, and who you love in return.’

‘They don’t love me,’ he spits, venom in every word. She senses that he truly believes it. ‘If they loved me, they would understand. If they loved me, they wouldn’t question why I did what I did. If they truly loved me, none of this would’ve even happened!’

His eyes redden with salty tears, and it is the enormity of his pain and hurt and sadness that has the girl resisting the urge to cry, too.

He wipes at the tears that trail down his face, but still more fall. A beat passes, then another, and another until he calms down once more. His red eyes look over the photos again, brushing aside the picture he tore to inspect the rest. When he is done, he leans back and looks up at the girl.

‘Why?’

She raises an eyebrow. ‘Why what?’

‘Why are you not in any of these?’

‘This isn’t about me.’

‘How do you expect me to open up to you Addams after five years of not seeing you, and expect me not to ask you some personal questions?’

The girl shrugs. ‘Fair point.’ She gathers the photos and turns them to face her. She flicks through them herself, a gentle tilt of her lips the only indication of the joy the memories brought.

‘I’m a professional photographer now,’ she says after a moment. ‘I have a blog where I post the pictures and write about the things I photograph. I'm also commissioned for photoshoots, occasionally. Sometimes it’s places I visit, or people I get to meet. Sometimes they’re wonderful, but other times not so much.’ She takes a breath to compose herself, flashes of torn body parts and frozen bodies coming to the forefront of her mind. Crime scenes, no matter how many she visited, were always the worst jobs.

She wills the memories away before she continues.

‘This is a collection of photos from my perspective. How beautiful the world is through my eyes.’

‘You don’t think you belong in that kind of world.’

It isn’t a question. The girl looks up, expecting the hateful eyes she’s come to know from him. Instead, she is met with curiosity and wonder. He stares at her openly, and she reciprocates.

‘Yes,’ she breathes, nothing lighter than a whisper.

‘Why?’

She pauses to contemplate her answer. She is meant to be interrogating him, not the other way around. But his words come back to haunt her, and the truth ringing in them spurs her to speak.

‘Because… I can’t see myself. It’s like I am ghost in my own body. I am surrounded by people who stand out, who have their own minds and hearts and stories to tell. From a young age I have felt other people’s wants and needs, desires and emotions that I have no business feeling. I feel them so intrinsically that I imagine those emotions and desires were my own. And if I think hard enough, I might just be able to… shut it off.’

‘Shut what off?’ he asks, though the caution on his face tells her he already knows.

‘Their humanity,’ she replies as quick as flicking a light switch on. ‘The very thing that makes them human. I can just turn it off at the snap of my fingers.’

‘I’m sure Wednesday would love that.’

‘It is not something I wish to impart on anyone.’ Her words silence his amusement, turning the room colder with the icy bite they come with. ‘Because once I switch it off, turning back on... has proven to be a challenge. And you may think Wednesday is a soulless, unfeeling creature, but her emotions are just locked away, carefully concealed and only to be revealed when the right person warrants it.’

She gives him a pointed glare, and he has the right mind to look ashamed. If only for a second.

‘However slim it is, her humanity remains her sole reason to do what she does. Otherwise, I would’ve been sister-less a long time ago.’

‘That still doesn’t answer my question, Addams,’ he interjects. At this, he leans forward on the table, curls bouncing as he stares directly in her eyes. She remembers those eyes, how they smiled at her sister so many times. How they proclaimed their love for her sister so many times. How they bulged and raged and went insane as he transformed into the Hyde all those years ago. But now - now they seek answers, and something else.

‘Why do you think you’re a monster like me?’

A cynical smile stretches her lips as she leans back and gestures to the photos spread across the table. Of Xavier painting; of Enid and Ajax snuggled up the first time they went camping as a group; of Bianca and some other Fangs dressed up for the final Raven they all attended. All of them smiling, having fun, being human.

‘Because there’s a small part of me that would enjoy crushing their happiness,' she replies, the strength in her delivery reflecting the truth of her words. 'And good people don't think like that.’

The same cynical smile appears on his face, and for a moment it’s just them. Two monsters revealing their darkest desires.

‘I know the feeling,’ he says, and a flicker of guilt flashes in his eyes.

Hope sparks once more inside of her, and she does her best to sound genuine. ‘You’re a good person. Before Laurel got to you, and even now. I can see it. I can sense it.’

He shakes his head, his mirthless laugh echoing throughout the room. ‘Don’t try to brainwash me into thinking I can be saved. Because I can’t, and even if I could, I wouldn’t fall for it. Like I said, I don’t regret what I did. I took pleasure in it.’

‘I’m sure you did, but you’re wrong. I’m not here to brainwash you.’

He cocked a skeptical eyebrow at her, curiosity winning over his resolve. ‘Then what are you here for?’

‘This is the longest conversation you’ve had with someone since you were first sent here,’ she said, packing the pictures up in the folder and placing it in her briefcase. ‘The people who brought me in may want me to help you open up and try to get you on a path of redemption. But I feel as if that is a decision you should make on your own. Obviously, I am biased to their aim, but I believe in freedom of speech, of choice, and of action when it comes to a person’s life.’

She stands from her seat and looks at him, the shadows from the flickering light no longer as scary as she first perceived.

‘You’re a good person, Tyler,’ she repeats, her lips pulling up in her first genuine smile in ages. 'But, arguably, so am I. Everyone is capable of being good or evil. It then just comes down to what we want out of life, and how we utilise our flaws to attain that life.’

When the boy says nothing, she turns and walks to the door. She gently knocks on it, and a few seconds later it is opening and guards are flooding in and straight to the boy.

He struggles a little as they strap him back down, but stops when he realises the girl is leaving. ‘Wait! When are you coming back?’

She pauses at the door and turns, a chagrin smile on her dark lips. ‘Aw, are you going to miss me? Don’t worry, I’ll be back.’

‘But when, (y/n)?’

The fear in his eyes paired with the use of her name, her real name, almost causes her to falter, to stay just a bit longer. She senses the impending loneliness that he fears, that he has known these five years of incarceration, and the heaviness it brings causes her heart to ache with longing and hope. She must leave, but...

I can spare him one last goodbye, though.

She walks back over to where the guards hold him, their eyes locked the entire time. Once she’s close enough, she uses her pointer finger to tilt his head up to meet hers.

‘Whenever I need to talk to another monster like me.’

With a flick of her finger his head drops and she is walking out of the interrogation room, already anticipating the next time she can see him again. And as she leaves, she catches one last emotion from the boy.

Mutual anticipation.

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sillspore · 5 months

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Now that brambleclaw and squirrelflight aren't mates, how would Alderheart and Sparkpelt being born? Most AUs (not saying those aus are bad) just have Bramblestar as a nothing character either as a villain with no personality or forgettable, with the personlity of wheat bread "man wife"

A lot of Bramnleclaw's character in/is about Squirrelflight and their love triangle with Ashfur. I can't really see (again no offense to you. Just airing my thoughts) as him being nothing character, if he isn't her mate than how would TBC happen or would that series never happen because Ashfur or Brambleclaw aren't mates with Squirrelflight. How would plotpointd such as his relationship with firestar would become? It would be jus them as adoptive siblings?

beware, this shit is long! soooo much more under the cut.

i’ve been thinking about this! basically, squilf would replace leafpool in the forbidden romance plot with crowfeather. during tpb, all of squilf’s romance will be with crowfeather. we get his pov during the journey, where he will be close with feathertail but crushing on squirrelpaw. we get squilf’s pov when they get home, where we can hear her internal debates over her feelings about crowpaw and missing him. she is attached to brambleshade (brambleclaw), but in a sibling way. in my head, firestar is a pseudo-dad to bramble, so a sibling dynamic makes sense. however, this isn’t reciprocated the same way. bramble grows to be in love with squirrelflight.

in twilight, squirrel and crow debate leaving, but decide against it and amicably agree to split. at the same time, leafpool is having the same issue with mothwing — mothwing cares little about the warrior code, and would much rather leave the clans and live their lives in peace, with a bonus of the fact that hawkfrost would never follow her and she’d be free of him. they run away, but come back just in time, like the leafcrow romance in canon.

as a note, because tc doesn’t share borders with rc, they had no idea it was mothwing that leafpool ran away with.

afterward, in sunset, squirrelflight grows closer to bramble and ashfur is scorned, much like in canon. she realizes he assumes she’s in love with bramble, and she lets this happen to dissuade him from trying to “win” her back. she feels safe doing this, because she assumes her sibling feelings towards bramble are the same from his side.

(note: squilf did date ashfur while she was arguing with bramble, but at first it was just friendship. she thought he’d make a great mate, and she could forget about crowfeather and maybe even have kits. but as he grows more controlling, she breaks up with him. soon after, she reconciles with bramble and ashfur takes this as badly as possible.)

after the whole saving her dad thing, squirrelflight is delighted. (side note again: bramble does become deputy, because longtail retires early. longstar would be too good of a leader, we need a shit one, for plot reasons.) bramble is delighted, because he thinks this means she loves him “again”. leafpool had no idea about the crowfeather thing, and tells squilf about the dream starclan sent of squilf and bramble walking side by side. squilf takes this to mean starclan wants her and bramble as mates (they absolutely do, the meddling weirdos), but with the way she feels about him? she isn’t fond of the idea. however, at the book’s end, leafpool tells her she’s pregnant. squilf knows exactly who’s they are — and she is both petrified and delighted. it’s complicated situation, she’s so overjoyed to have her love’s kits, but he will never know them and the clan will be suspicious. everyone knows she was courting ashfur but spends all her time with bramble now, so they’ll assume it’s one of theirs. so will the two cats in question. if she refuses to say who, it’ll be very obvious their father is not thunderclan. she tells this much to leafpool, who advises her to follow starclan’s wish and become bramble’s mate, for real. squilf tries to convince herself this will be okay, because it’s what starclan wants.

later, leafpool tells her she’s carrying mothwing’s kits, and they (TOGETHER) devise the plan to have squilf raise them, which will be easy because she’ll actually have milk here. bramble is over the moon at the news of kits, and squilf is dying inside. it’d be a depressing inner monologue, her trying to convince herself she can be happy like this.

leafpool fakes a starclan vision, saying squirrelflight must visit the moonpool immediately, for plot reasons. squilf gives birth up there, and crow stumbles upon them. there’s a unique herb growing in the cave that he was sent to retrieve for his “mate” (they’ve come to an agreement: crow takes night as his mate to look loyal, and the kits she has won’t appear as if they were fathered by a rogue, like they actually were), nightcloud, who’s about to give birth. he sees squilf’s kits, they get emotional and sappy. there’s two kits, unnamed. together, they name them hollykit and breezekit, and crow takes breezekit (the one out of rhe two without red on him) back to wc to be raised by nightcloud with her kits. he’ll blend right in with the litter.

a few hours later, leafpool gives birth to jaykit, lionkit (still haven’t decided his name change), and dovekit. after another day, a tc patrol comes to get them, wondering what took them so long, surprised to find squirrelflight’s four kits! they carry ‘em home, and squilf settles in the nursery, fussed over by brambleshade. about a week later, dovekit dies, and squilf is heartbroken. she grows listless and finds it hard to take care of her remaining kits, but later recovers and is a great mom.

power of three goes pretty close to canon, major plot wise. hollyleaf is not a member of the three, but it makes SENSE bc she wasn’t actuallt part of the three’s litter. dovekit was, who was later reincarnated into whitewing’s kit, dovekit, in order for the prophecy to be fulfilled. for the fire scene, it goes the same mostly, squilf claiming they aren’t her kits, ashfur says idc you love them anyway. i think i may have firestar save them from ashfur here, losing his final life. after the fire, squilf admits that hollyleaf is her kit, but the other two aren’t. hollyleaf pries the whole story out of leafpool, and goes STRAIGHT to brambleshade, before he goes to receive his nine lives. he thanks her for telling him, and he is heartbroken (because, apparently, his wife never loved him.) and furious. none of his kits were his, some of them were even leafpool’s! after he’s made bramblestar, he appoints hollyleaf as his deputy, citing that she’s the only one he can trust. things go to shit, sol, hollyleaf snaps and kills ashfur, hollyleaf tells the clans everything, including the prophecy, etc etc. hollyleaf dies, killed by the falling rocks in the tunnels. her role in the great battle stays the same, as does firestar’s, bc their ghosts can still kick ass.

after this, during omen of the stars, we see bramble actively punishing squirrelflight. everything is shit. i don’t know who i’ll have him pick as deputy, but they’ll die during the flood of bramblestar’s storm. jessy happens, etc etc, squilf and him make up. she apologizes, and he apologizes, but he kinda makes it about him, hmmm….

anyway, spark and alder are bramblesquirrel kits still. i haven’t thought about major plot for avos yet, i’ve barely thought about pot and oots. but, squilf is made deputy, and the broken code is a thing. bramblestar is freed of rhe possession, but there will be a scene where squirrelcrow have a Moment and bramblestar loses his shit. he accuses her of betraying him, of being cruel and evil, yada yada. brambleshade is a little weird, maybe kinda vindictive, but bramblestar is out of his mind. the sheer amount of power he has and his desire to use it against her is dangerous. he is very clearly an evil person, despite the sympathies he has. anyway, bramblestar tries to exile her, but spark stops him. she, and the clan, are OVER bramblestar, who was just as bad a leader as the imposter. he is stripped of his name and lives via rhe new warrior code rule, and the clan watches in horror as he loses all but his last life in real time. he’s moved to the medicine den. meanwhile, squilf becomes a star, and appoints ivyclaw (ivypool) her deputy. she gives brambleshade the option of leaving the clan or retiring, and he hobbles his old ass to the elder’s den.

after all this, crowfeather decides to join thunderclan, and squirrelstar happily accepts him, daring anyone to argue. they get their happily ever after, and it’s very sweet. maybe breeze even comes with his dad, tired of his clan’s scorn? regardless, it’s a very awkward time for nightheart watching his grandad spit obscenities at his step-grandad. wild.

pls tell me if this is incoherent ive never written my ideas out for the squirrelcrow bramblesquirrel plot before !!!

#erin hunter warriors #warrior cats #warriors #warriors rewrite #warriors au #squirrelflight #squirrelstar #crowfeather #brambleclaw #bramblestar #squirrelcrow #bramblesquirrel #i fucking hate bramblestar so if you like him don’t read this #you wont enjoy it #i tried to stick to the story but made it more enjoyable for me #i’ve grown attached to an enemies to friends to lovers to strangers to lovers with squirrelcrow

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wild-karrde · 8 months

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Guarded - Part 1

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A/N: HI HELLO HOWDY! Alright, so a while back, I decided I would rework "Guarded" and "Reunion" a bit, so THIS IS THE START OF THAT EFFORT. This rework will not be as extensive as what's happening with "In Command", but this fic will be getting upgraded to an Explicit rating (with the M option still available on AO3). So if you're new to this fic, I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT, and if you've already read it and decide to revisit it, I HOPE YOU LOVE IT AS MUCH AS I ALWAYS HAVE. And for this go around, I WILL HAVE MY OUTSTANDING BETA READER HELPING FOR THE WHOLE TIME (TJ came on halfway through this fic last time), so THANK YOU as always to @teletraan-meets-jarvis for her stupendous support and beta-reading!

Chapter Rating: T (entire work is rated E, but M-rated version can be found on AO3)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, character death

Word Count: 3.4k words

She could feel it, something in the darkness, just out of reach, creeping towards her.

Not another dream.

The presence shifted, and with it, her certainty that she was in fact imagining it.

DANGER.

The word flashed in her mind like a siren. She rocketed to a sitting position, her hair sticking to her face and neck with sweat that was pouring from her brow. A dark figure loomed in the corner of her room, body half in her window. Their eyes met and his widened at the understanding that his quarry had detected him.

Oh, Maker.

Diving out of her bed, she rolled behind one of the ornately carved nightstands as a blaster bolt ricocheted off the light that stood on it. She coughed from the smoke as she yanked open the drawer on the front of it, pulling her blaster from its hiding place. Her assailant advanced, firing at her as she ducked further behind the nightstand. She heard him chuckle darkly as he stepped up onto her bed to get a higher vantage point.

She was exposed.

Without thinking, she launched herself from her crouched position, tackling the intruder. Her shoulder slammed into his ribcage, and she heard him grunt as her momentum carried them both to the ground, his helmeted head smacking hard against the floor.

He’s dazed at best. Got to keep moving.

She somehow still had her blaster in her hand and tucked it against the attacker’s exposed throat.

“Make a move and I will kill you without hesitation,” she panted.

She heard the same low chuckle again.

Suddenly, his wrist wrapped around hers as he tried to roll on top of her, but he had underestimated her strength. She squeezed the trigger once, twice, and the bolts hit him in the clavicle and throat. He gasped and wheezed, rolling off of her. She stood, her hair hanging in her face as she leveled the blaster at him again, ignoring the metallic smell of blood and charred flesh.

“Who sent you?” she demanded.

“It doesn’t matter…more…will…come…” he wheezed before falling silent.

She knelt down next to him, feeling for a pulse that no longer beat, and she cursed silently as there was a sudden banging on her door. She stood, tucking her hair behind her ear as her security protocols were overridden and her door burst open, the room immediately filling with guards. The captain stood next to her, gently taking her arm to turn her towards him.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, attempting to hide the fear in his voice.

“No, I’m fine. Can’t say the same for our friend here.”

The captain’s brow furrowed. He snapped out a few orders to the guards, and they all rushed to comply.

“They’re growing bolder. This is no longer safe, and you know it,” he whispered quietly.

“Gregar, we can’t let them win.”

“If you die, they win, and they came close tonight.”

“You don’t give me enough credit.”

“Oh, I think I give you plenty. But I’m making the call.”

---

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Three chimes echoed throughout the darkened ship. Only one of the clones was awake, and he didn’t move in his bunk, hoping one of his brothers would get it.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The comm panel was insistent.

Peering over the edge of the bunk, Hunter could see Tech was asleep at the comm station, his feet propped up on the console and his neck tipped back over the chair at a perilous angle.

How does he even sleep like that? No wonder his posture is terrible.

He could see the flashing indicator trying to tell them they had a new message, but Tech’s snores continued uninterrupted.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Hunter sighed in frustration.

He’s clearly not getting up.

He looked around in the bunk for something to throw at his sleeping brother but was unsuccessful. Groaning one more time as he stretched his shoulders above his head, he rolled out of the bunk taking care not to step on Wrecker in the bunk below him and made his way over to answer the message. He could see Echo asleep in the copilot seat in the cockpit and Crosshair was stretched out on the floor in the back of the ship. Hunter wasn’t sure how long it would take him to re-integrate with the team, but it seemed like the sniper was determined to keep his distance for the foreseeable future, even when he was sleeping. He sighed before moving over to the comm console.

Hunter shoved Tech’s feet off the console, jolting him awake.

“Hmmm…what is it?” Tech asked, readjusting his goggles, which were askew across his face. It never failed to amaze Hunter how alert his brother could be after being woken from a dead sleep. It almost unnerved him at times.

“We’ve got a message.”

Hunter punched a few keys and a hologram illuminated in front of them in the form of Senator Bail Organa.

“Greetings, Clone Force 99. I hope this message finds you safe. I have received a request for protection from one of our closest allies. I have been asked not to disclose the name over this channel for security purposes, but I am transmitting coordinates for your rendezvous with their representative. While this may seem unusual, the situation is…complex, and requires special attention, which is why I’m asking you specifically to take this. The contact has stressed that it is imperative that your presence there remains a secret, so please take the necessary precautions. Send a confirmation once you get this message and are on your way.”

The hologram dimmed and Hunter leaned against the wall, rubbing his hands over his face as he attempted to ingest all of the information.

“Well that was…ominous and vague,” Tech muttered.

“Whereabouts do the coordinates put us?” Hunter asked.

Tech punched a few buttons on the console, and a blue and green planet popped up on the display. “Naboo. Looks like we’ll be putting down well away from any major cities. Theed will be the closest one.”

“What do we know about what’s going on there?”

“So far, minimal Imperial presence. Currently ruled by Queen Kestia Nodala, who seems very anti-occupation and has thus far been successful in keeping large forces away. There’s been some rumored tension between her and the Empire recently, but nothing confirmed.”

“Over what?”

“Resources, allegedly.”

Hunter grunted as he ran the information over in his mind.

“Alright, well, let’s get heading that way. Set a course for Naboo and send Organa a confirmation and an ETA that he can provide his contact with. Also, let Omega know we’ll be unreachable for a while so she doesn’t worry if she tries to contact us.”

Tech nodded wordlessly, standing up and stretching his limbs and cracking his neck before heading to the cockpit to lay in the coordinates.

---

The green of Naboo’s forests glowed like a cut and polished emerald below them as Tech brought the Marauder in to land in a small clearing. They’d been met with no suspicion, and that was enough for Hunter’s nerves to be strained.

Nothing is ever this easy.

Quickly, the five clones exited the ship, armored and armed.

“Heads on a swivel for the contact,” Hunter’s voice buzzed from underneath his helmet.

“Do we even know who we’re looking for?” Echo grumbled, scanning the treeline.

“Me,” a voice said from behind them. A tall, dark complected man sporting an eye patch stepped from the shadows, hands raised to show he wasn’t a threat. “I’m your contact.”

The clones whirled on him, raising their blasters.

“And who are you?” Tech asked.

“Gregar Typho.”

Tech’s head cocked in recognition at the name.

Wrecker noticed. “You know him, Tech?”

“I know of him. He was the personal guard for Senator Padmé Amidala prior to her death, and he now currently works as head of the Royal Naboo Security Forces.”

Hunter stared at Typho. “The Royal Naboo Security Forces?”

The captain’s expression didn’t alter beyond a slightly raised eyebrow. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll explain on the way, but we need to get moving. We’re too conspicuous out here.”

“What about the ship?” Wrecker grunted.

“It’ll be fine. Step this way please.”

They walked to the edge of the clearing and Typho punched a few buttons on his vambrace. The ground underneath them rumbled as the Havoc Marauder slowly sunk beneath the grass, being lowered into large hexagonal opening below them. They peered down into what appeared to be a large hidden hangar below the surface. As soon as the ship was completely submerged underground, two grass-coated plates snapped shut seamlessly, and the clearing was again empty and seemingly undisturbed.

“The very precise coordinates make more sense now,” Tech stated.

“Impressive,” Hunter muttered.

“You’ll get it back,” Typho reassured him with a hint of a smirk. “Now come, my speeder is this way.”

The five clones and the captain piled into the speeder that Typho had hidden beneath the trees, and without another word, they were zooming along under the treeline, mostly obscured from view. Hunter noticed that once again, Crosshair had been largely silent since exiting the ship. In fact, he wasn’t sure if his brother had said anything since learning of their mission. When he’d given them the briefing, Crosshair had been leaning back against the hull of the ship, quietly working on yet another of his toothpicks. All he’d given was a nod of acknowledgement before starting to gear up. Now, he was sitting in the back of the speeder, his rifle tucked next to him while he stared out into the trees.

Just give him time. He needs time.

Hunter turned back to their newfound companion in the seat next to him.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Captain, can we possibly get an idea of what we’re doing here?”

Typho gave him a look out of the corner of his eye before sighing.

“You are persistent.”

“I prefer to know what I’m getting my team into. We trust our mutual friend that set this up, but faith will only get you so far.”

The captain nodded. “You’ll get more details once we reach our destination, but for now, the person I represent –“

“The queen?” Echo asked.

“The person I represent” Typho insisted, giving him a glare, “is in grave danger, and I have been assured that your skillsets are best-suited to protect them.”

“Better suited than your own?” Hunter pressed.

“There are… limitations to what my guards and I can do. Naboo is not a planet of warriors, and we believe in peace at all costs, even if those costs are sometimes great. A military force is not something we possess or something we welcome.”

“And yet you hired us,” Tech said.

“Yes, I did. Please understand the desperation of the situation for me to do so, and the risk that comes with it.” He glanced at their armor. “We’ll have to get you changed once we arrive. You’ll stand out too much with your clone armor.”

Wrecker groaned from the back of the speeder. “Ugh. Nothing ever fits me.”

Typho gave him a once over. “I’m sure we’ll find… something.”

They rode in silence for the remainder of the trip, the wind whistling by their helmets as Typho piloted the speeder through the forest. They could see the city of Theed rushing into view on the cliffs above, but the captain never turned the speeder towards the main entrances, instead steering for the bottom of the bluffs. Echo shot Tech a look, and he shrugged as they pulled into a large cavern. A few hundred meters into the cave, there was suddenly dim lighting along the floors and walls, and Typho expertly piloted through the tunnels.

“Where are we?” Wrecker shouted above the roaring winds.

“These tunnels run alongside the catacombs under the city. Best way to get in and out without being seen,” the captain replied.

Wrecker shuddered at his reply. “I don’t like dead bodies.”

Echo looked at him, tilting his head. “You see dead bodies all the time.”

“It’s different when I’ve killed ‘em.”

Echo started to ask another question but appeared to accept Wrecker’s logic as Tech shook his head, still typing away on his datapad. Crosshair didn’t budge, continuing to stare into the tunnel ahead of them, the dim lighting gleaming off of his visor.

After seemingly several klicks, Typho pulled the speeder to a stop in a tunnel that led to a staircase cut into the rocky walls. He pulled his helmet from under his seat, tucking it under his arm as the clones assembled in front of him. Making sure he had their attention, he spoke.

“From here on out, it’s imperative that you not be spotted by anyone outside of the small group of people that are aware of this plan. You must do exactly as I say, is that understood?”

The rest of the clones turned to Hunter, who nodded. “We understand, Captain Typho. We’ll follow your lead.”

The captain dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement, placing his helmet on his head, but Hunter could sense his continued unease. He turned and began climbing the stairs, and they followed. As they neared the top, Typho reached into his pocket to pull out a commlink, raising it to his lips. “Iden, do you read?”

A female voice responded. “Loud and clear, Captain.”

“Is she ready to receive her private appointment?”

There was a brief pause on the other end. “Affirmative. You have a clear shot all the way. I’ll lock down the entrances and have guards posted outside.”

“Excellent.” Turning back to them, Typho sighed. “Alright, let’s go. Try and stay away from windows if you can.”

They all nodded in acknowledgement. Typho keyed in the door’s code and they stepped through into a well-lit passageway with marble flooring and stained glass windows lining the hall. The corridor was empty, and they moved quickly to keep up with Typho’s pace. Echo had to keep elbowing Wrecker to hurry as he turned, taking in the architecture around them, slowing his strides to stare at the colorful windows.

“You’ll have time to be a tourist later. We’ve got to keep moving.”

Wrecker grunted but obliged, picking up the pace to keep up with the captain.

Typho led them up several flights of stairs and down several corridors before pausing outside a large set of closed double doors. “Iden, confirming we are clear?”

“All clear. Come on in, Captain.”

The doors swung open, and Typho motioned for them to follow him. The room they walked into had massive pillars encircling a seating area that was arranged around an ornate wooden desk. There were guards stationed around the room along with six women in matching dark robes, their hoods pulled low. A large window illuminated the room and the woman staring out of it. She turned to face them as they entered, clasping her hands in front of her.

Queen Kestia Nodala stood taller than most, her dark hair braided elaborately into the headpiece she wore, a silver diadem with dark blue stones that hung low on her forehead. Her gown billowed out, making her appear wider and more imposing with sharp shoulders and wide sleeves that hid most of her hands, only her white thumbnails poking out from the cuffs. Matching silver ornamentation lined the bodice of her gown, fanning out to the hem of the skirts, which flowed towards the floor. The queen wore the traditional white and red makeup of Naboo royalty, the red dots on her cheeks giving her face symmetry while a red line divided her lower lip in two, the Scar of Remembrance. Her green eyes glowed in the sunlight as she stepped forward to meet them.

Typho strode to her, removing his helmet again to tuck it under one arm as he bowed. The clones took their cue from him, removing their helmets as well.

“Queen Nodala, may I introduce Clone Force 99,” he gestured at them to step forward.

Hunter led the group, bowing stiffly. The queen watched him unwaveringly as he straightened, meeting her eyes.

“Your highness,” he said quietly.

His brothers bowed awkwardly behind him, doing their best to show respect even though they were all well out of their depth. There hadn’t been much time to meet politicians of any level during the war, much less any that were considered elected royalty.

The queen stared Hunter down for a few more moments before turning to Captain Typho. “I see my wish to handle this internally has been disregarded then,” her voice boomed with a slow, deliberate tone that made Wrecker shift uneasily on his feet. Her eyes snapped to him, and he quit moving, instead opting to stare at the floor.

“M’lady, we’ve discussed this,” Typho said quietly, his voice strained. “I do believe your safety warrants this measure.” Leaning closer and speaking so softly even Hunter could barely hear him. “And this was a compromise in my book, if we’re being honest.”

She watched him carefully for a few moments before letting her sharp eyes return to the clones, roving over each of them in turn. “Very well. As it appears my captain has decided you are necessary for my safety, I will accept his judgement. For now.” She swept forward, extending a hand to Hunter.

The rest of the clones watched as their sergeant fumbled with how to best greet the royalty before him. Finally, after several awkward moments, he clasped her hand, bowing again. He saw Tech nod slightly out of the corner of his eye and internally breathed a sigh of relief at somehow managing to get that right.

“Hunter, your highness.”

“M’lady,” Tech coughed behind him less than subtly.

Hunter shot him a glare before correcting himself. “M’lady.”

I guess I should be happy he at least tried to be sly about it.

As Hunter lifted his head, he could have sworn a smile tugged at the corner of the queen’s lips as he released her hand. Tech moved in next to make sure his brothers could see the appropriate protocol.

“Tech, m’lady,” he said, dipping his head as he clasped her hand gently. Hunter noted the muscles in her forearm flexing as she gently squeezed Tech’s hand before he released her fingers, raising his eyes to meet hers. Despite her initially stoic demeanor, the queen seemed slightly amused by Tech, her eyes sparkling and her mouth quirking upwards at his bespectacled brother.

Her reaction surprised Hunter, but then again, if she found Tech somewhat entertaining as a first impression, he wasn’t about to shatter that illusion.

We’ll see if she’s as tickled once he starts correcting her every move, he thought with a smirk.

Not everyone had the patience for Tech, and this queen seemed at least somewhat impatient based on her interactions with Typho. The captain was behaving as though he’d been anticipating a fight ever since they stepped into the throne room, and while one hadn’t materialized, Hunter could still see he was tensed in the way his spine was ramrod straight and the way his jaw was clenched, watching her carefully.

Once they’d all been introduced, the queen turned back to Captain Typho. “I suppose we should get these men into clothing that’s less conspicuous.”

He nodded. “Yes, m’lady. I had planned on disguising them as security officers.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What exactly will differentiate them, then?”

“They’ll be stationed right next door to your quarters and at least one of them will be with you at all times.”

Her mouth tightened into a thin line, and they could all see she was half a second from arguing with him again before another guard strode into the room. She was short with her hair pulled back into a slick plait. She appraised the clones for a moment before addressing the queen.

“Apologies for the intrusion, m’lady, but your next appointment is here.” Hunter recognized the woman as the Iden that they’d heard speaking with Typho during their walk to the throne room.

The queen narrowed her eyes at Typho in annoyance as she turned to acknowledge the information. “Thank you, Lieutenant. I shall receive them once Captain Typho and our guests have departed.”

With that, Typho bowed stiffly before turning on his heel and leading the clones out of the throne room the way they’d come, the massive double doors swinging shut behind them with a dull thud.

*Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @staycalmandhugaclone @readheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @wizardofrozz @ariadnes-red-thread @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @kaminocasey @echos-girlfriend @lucyysthings @obihiddlenox @merkitty49 @littlemissmanga @clonecyaree @baba-fett @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @samspenandsword @babygirlrex0504 @ladytano420 @fxlsealarm @runforrestr @djarrex @corrieguards @the-cantina @witchklng @wolffegirlsunite @fives-lover @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall

*If you do not wish to be tagged in this rewrite, please let me know (same goes for Reunion)

30 notes · View notes

vamps-hmu · 5 months

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Veyle, my altmer nerevarine :3

plus me rambling abt him in the tags hehe

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shadebloopnik · 2 years

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Dying to find a Huntlow fic where Willow meets Hunter in the Golden Guard persona.

Give me young Golden Boy Official falling for this buff and strong schoolgirl.

Give me an anxious teenage girl developing a crush on a mask.

Give me witty banters between 2 people on opposite sides

Give me starcrossed lovers

Give me second most influential person in the isle awkwardly visiting willow in secret

Give me willow placing a kiss on his mask

Give me Willow vowing to love him no matter how he looks like

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nathanwinter · 1 year

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"Tell me who hurt you.” His voice slides out from between bared teeth in a low, threatening growl, hands tightening on your waist, and you are shocked to see him so angry.

No, that’s not right. His nostrils flare with each hard breath, and his gaze does not wander from yours for even a second. There is no lascivious amusement edging his features, no chance that he might break into a grin or make some sly remark that is equal parts frightening and teasing. He looks like he is barely holding himself back from tearing something – not you, but something – to shreds.

Viktor is not angry, he is furious.

We're back in business baby

#nw update #nw writing #vampires #vampire hunter #original writing #original work #bgth #ao3 #commissions #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers #heehoo emotions #writing #monster #writeblr #the next one will be e rated i promise

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beautifuldreamlandwonderland · 2 years

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𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬 (𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Quick Summery: A short story based on a song of a slow burn love story between Hunter and (Y/N) that sadly ends in tragedy.

Reader Key: (Y/N) = Your Name

Warnings: Slight Angst and small amount of cussing

Adding Notes: Collage is made by me! I found all the images off of Pinterest, and this imagine is based off the song Cardigan by Taylor Swift <3

𝑽𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒕𝒆𝒆, 𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒑𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆

𝑯𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒉𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈...

𝑺𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒏 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆, 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌

𝑺𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈...

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒏' 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝑳𝒆𝒗𝒊'𝒔

𝑫𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒌 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝑰

𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒕 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒚, 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝑰

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒏

𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒅

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆...

��Get off me, you asshole.” You said through gritted teeth, eyes furrowed in frustration, as your winced from the pain in your back, since the boy who was now on top of you.

He chuckled while keeping his hands tight around your wrists above your head, shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t think I will.”

Then, a few moments later, you kicked your leg up, slipping it around his waist and flipping the both of you over to where you were now on top of him, taking him by surprise, grabbing your palisman quickly and pinning it above his head holding his wrists down, having you be the one smirking above him. “Hey there, Hunty.”

Hunter blinked rapidly before furrowing his brows with a slight blush on his cheeks. “I let you do that.”

“Sure you did, Hunty.”

“Stop it, (Y/N).”

“Nah, I don’t think I will.”

𝑨 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒆

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝒔, 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆

𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏'...

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒆-𝒂𝒏𝒅-𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅

𝑮𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝑰

𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝑳𝒊𝒏𝒆

𝑶𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝟐𝟎 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝑰

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒈𝒂𝒏

𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆'𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒅

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆...

“Come on out, (Y/N)! You can’t hide forever. I’m done playing these games with you. I’m taking this seriously this time, and you are not making it very easy, which you do not want to do, trust me.” Hunter called out, his dark magenta eyes darting around the forest scene around him, sighing in annoyance after getting no sign from you or response.

He had been chasing you for the past hour, trying to get information on you, and your best friend Luz Noceda. You had no idea what needs he had for her, but you weren’t going to allow him to lay a single finger on her. But, to put it simply, your relationship with the so called golden guard was extremely complicated. You weren’t friends, but were you really enemies? You had fights every time your paths met, but it was never aggressive to the point you wanted to hurt him...only knock him off his feet, slap his ego down a notch, and say a little witty comments to him before making your escape, awaiting your next meeting.

Clash!

“Long time no see, Hunty.” You smirked, pressing your palisman against his own, which he seemed to be putting no effort in strength to his defense, simply looking at you with a blank expression.

“No more games, (Y/N).” He whispered, twisting the staff around, jumping back a few feet away from you, twisting it around his fingers, eyes never breaking from your own.

“Aw, c’mon it’s fun. Don’t be a poor sport.” You laughed,

Then, as you blasted and cursed spells to each other, eventually it got to the point where your gripped his wrist above his head, palisman in hand as he gripped yours, you both staring intently in each other’s eyes,

“Stop it.” He snapped, trying to wiggle his arm out of your grasp, while keeping a hold of yours.

“Nah,” You giggled, leaning closer to his face, “I don’t think I will.”

𝑻𝒐 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒔

𝑾𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒘 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰'𝒎 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒏' '

𝑪𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝑺𝒕𝒆𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏' 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒏

𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝑰

𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈

𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒚, 𝑰

𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝑳𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏' 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

𝑹𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓, 𝑰

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈...

“Shut up and kiss me you idiot.” You cried, cupping his face, resting your forehead against him, with tears streaming down both your faces, he pressed his lips to yours, holding you close to him.

After a few seconds, he pulled away and looked at you, letting out a small laugh. “Took you long enough to do that. After...what, a year and a half?”

You rolled your eyes, coughing for a second, half-lidded eyes looking into his as one hand gripped his shoulder. “Oh please don’t tell me how long I took. You just didn’t know how to accept defeat.” You smiled and rested your head on his chest. “You didn’t know how to admit that you, mr golden guard had fallen for me.”

He shook his head with a laugh, tears escaping from his eyes as he held you tighter. “Nah, I don’t think I will.”

You both giggled with each other, before he slipped his hand gently into your bloodstained one, lifting it up and kissing the back of it, before beginning to choke on sobs, squeezing his eyes shut. “Idiot, idiot, idiot...” He repeated.

You smiled weakly before tracing a finger gently on his large scar near his chin, before beginning to close your eyes. “Hunter, I love you.”

The sentence that left your lips only seemed to break him more, since all he did in response was scream, not daring to look at you. Eventually, fifteen minutes had passed, and he hugged you tightly around him, kissing your forehead. “I love you.”

He said in that small voice, and if only he could’ve told you that while you were still alive. But all he did until Luz came to grab him, was repeat those three words even after your body had fallen limp and cold.