#v; meet me on the battlefield

[legaciestold]

@honorhearted continued from x

sounds reverberate throughout the tunnels under the palace, dirt and stones shifting and falling as a battle of magick and swords and dragon fyre encases everything above. her body feels numb, not even the bloody wound to her skin felt as she's half drug along, deeper and deeper until they turn and then begin moving upward again. 'would you truly let your father's sacrifice be made in vain?' sir ben's words ricochet within her mind, the image of her father's gaze as he'd pushed her into ben's arms so clear. the high queen was dead, a prince was dead. the high king was dying or dead, and she'd been forced to flee as men and women died in her name. it was wrong. oh it was so horrifically atrocious! the princess doesn't remember ben raising her hand to the painting to allow them passage. she doesn't remember her screams or the way she'd thrashed in his hold. 'be strong, lyli -- live for him...for your kingdom!' when she'd recall these moments later she thinks that was the moment she'd stopped fighting. when something else had taken hold of her, wrapping around the horror and encasing it in a broken heart, using it as fuel and deciding she had to survive. her people were dying. her father was dying but she remained and her other brother did too. the horrors of this night would be too horrific if such a toll held no purpose. if she died and her people were left to the venomous wrath of an evil witch to rule them in terror.

and so she had stopped fighting ben and instead began leading them through the labyrinth of tunnels until sounds and smells met their senses, day blackened out by rising smoke as they meet quickly waning daylight a distance from the palace, and her dragon standing high and tall at the ready. there's one man too, a man she'd always fondly seen tending to the royal family's dragon companions. he's wounded, she can see, the bodies of three others laying splayed across the ground where they'd worked to aid him in preparing the riding harness on apophis. if their princess was to take to the skies she would not do it without some precaution. without the best chance for her survival and escape. these people had given their very lives to ensure it. other dragons, wild, spiral through the skies as they clash with two who have been enthralled, covering the activity taking place below. apophis moves closer then, laying flatter as the man meets her and sir ben and urges them forward toward the dragon. everything happens in quick succession then. her forcing benjamin with a commanding authority she'd lacked in her previous shock to get onto the dragon first because she hadn't trusted that he wouldn't attempt to cause her to escape and stay behind and her following quickly after, seated in front of him. she seeks to grant the man who had ushered them forward some form of comforting words yet apo rushes onward as a dragon crashes feet from them and takes the man with him in a cloud of dust.

she wants to scream. this time she doesn't.

the battle had raged around them, apo maneuvering in the way sir poe had taught them never having intended for her or the dragon to have to use such teachings in practice. dragons flank them, dragons fall, the capitol is in ruin. there's a point when anger begins to overwhelm everything else, as she watches myra's men slaughter people in the streets below. she knows they can not stop their escape yet she does have her dragon lower toward the ground, a single command for fyre uttered, engulfing myra's men and their dying victims with it before they surge back into the skies and away from the city, out over the water and into the night. fyre did not care what it touched, it was brutal, but it could be wrath and mercy in one. she thinks that's the moment she truly became something new. when youthful innocence had been tore from her and fyre had remade her. the serpentine princess lyliana had never taken a life before this day. in fact she had strived to protect it even when a plot to take her own had once befell her. in the chaos of the usurping she had killed in defense. but in that moment she had killed as justice. she had killed as the queen they'd need her to become.

she'd nearly fallen off apo soon after, consciousness lost in the dampness of flight and apo's voice spoken into ben's mind to hold her before she slipped. much of the following hours had been cold and chaotic, any pursuers lost to the depths of the sea and darkness of the night. they nearly crash through the raised wards of the kingdom of eldenvale. sir poe had made it. he'd warned them. they'd prepared. soldiers meet them with prince jayson pushing past to meet her as she's passed down off the dragon. unspoken words passed between the last remaining children of a dead king and queen. chaos ensues when her uncle commands sir benjamin detained, untrusting of anyone so near to his niece and nephew when reports came of trusted friends having been turned against the royal family. the princess that would be queen can barely stand, though she rages immediately. authority in her voice that causes pause to even the warrior king-uncle before her. they let sir ben remain with her, escorted to rooms and only the carefully spoken words of her queen-aunt causing lyliana to allow healers into the rooms. they use their magicks to close their wounds and restore their skin though the fatigue and blood loss is not so simply remedied. that would take time.

the princess, like ben, argues the moment sir ben leaving the chambers is suggested by members of court though how she has the energy to have such powerful conviction in her upset is a wonder. they concede to her because they have to. the realms are in chaos but the high king and queen are dead. this girl may be exhausted and in turmoil yet she had become their queen the moment her dragon had made landfall. they call her 'her grace' in respect and in mourning, as a symbol of what was to come in the wake of what was transpiring around them yet the title is lost to her because she's beginning to fall apart again the moment the door closes. the moment the world and reality begin to enclose around her again. the moment she can't be strong as ben had commanded of her anymore. she doesn't remember anything after that. she doesn't remember the exhaustion consuming her or how she'd been laid in the bed. she doesn't remember refusing to let go of her hold on him either.

time passes, hours, as others in the castle move about directed by her uncle and aunt. prepare for war. prepare to protect the castle should myra send others upon them. they do not bother the chambers lyliana and ben occupy, not yet though the small trails of colors begin to play in the skies. it's early, extremely early when she awakens with a strangled scream upon her lips, her surging upward in the bed in horror as if she's back in the moment. her breath is labored, eyes searching wildly until they settle on sir ben. thankfully no one has heard her, no one but him and she knows as her light hues meet his that it wasn't a dream though she wishes it all had been some horrid nightmare. it had all happened. it was all real and the weight of that is gut-wrenching. "they're all dead, ben. she killed them. she killed them all and i want her dead!"

[yeonban]

POV you're me reading Seiroku's birthday reply

[iron-strangers]

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Description: It's all true, Jedi can read minds. You've been trained to keep people's thoughts about you for so long. It went well until the day you caught Din's fantasy involving you.

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Female Jedi!Reader

Series: Expanding Clan Mudhorn

Tags: Established Relationships, Mand’alor Din Djarin, A Sprinkle of Family Fluff, Sexual Fantasy, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex (f receiving), Unprotected p-in-v, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Lactation Kink

CW: Reader has AFAB characterization, uses she/her pronouns, is able-bodied, has depicted body changes related to pregnancy and breastfeeding, and hair that can be pulled during sex. No Use of Y/N. Consent Issues: Reader peaks into Din's fantasy. NSFW MINORS DNI

Length: 2.7k

-

According to urban legends, jedi can read minds. That's true, well, to an extent.

Jedi can read unshielded minds. A Jedi’s mental shield helps to prevent their minds so they’re not easily read, but also to prevent them from accidentally reading a non-force sensitive’s mind. This knowledge helped you survive being chased around the galaxy during the Empire’s reign. Imps are weak-minded and you could easily get any information you needed by reading their mind.

As you grew older, some thoughts people had about you turned sexual. Some got you blushing, like the one from a spacer who fantasized about sweet-talking you into having a quickie in the back of the cantina, some others were just plain disturbing and had you slamming a mental shield as quick as you can before fleeing the parameter with your blaster clutched in your hand.

During the old Jedi-Mandalorian war era, Mando'ade have found a way to keep the jetiise out of their head. Beskar helmets are effective for as long as you can remember, but apparently, there's a loophole. Beskar can't block a jedi who's already soul-bonded to a Mandalorian. There might not be any data about this, but let's be real, there's barely any noted soul bonds between a jedi and Mandalorian throughout history.

This explains the weird sync you and Din have. People have mentioned how you complete each other, that you have almost the same opinions on things, how you two always make the same decisions, both politically and on the battlefield. Some might even suggest that you and him finish each other's sentences. It's a cliché, written in teenager’s holonovels. So you're used to laughing it off, deflecting that you probably just spent too much time together, that between leading and parenting, agreeing on the same thing is just what spouses do. The Armorer called you ‘two halves of one warrior’ at your wedding ceremony. It should’ve ring an alarm in your mind, but in your defense, you were too busy getting swooned off your feet.

It became apparent one day when you met him in a small bakery, just a few minutes away from the Keldabe Palace, when he wasn’t supposed to be done until much later in the day. You’ve been craving Keshian Spice Rolls all day and you figured it was a great day to take the kids out, enjoy the sun and a little sweet treats, then surprise your hard-working riduur with a box of pastries back in the palace. Imagine your surprise when you stepped into a bakery and saw him already queuing.

“Rid’ika!” He called, waving to you from the line. You skipped over the lines, smiling and nodding to everyone as you made your way to your riduur. Din took Grogu from you so you can lift Aranar, who’s busy charming everyone off with his toothy grin, up.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, holding his offered hand. “You have to meet the Prince of Bespin in half an hour.”

“I know, but I heard they are baking Keshian Spice Rolls. So I went to buy you some.” Din shrugged, not once caring about the Prince having to wait for him to get back from spoiling his riduur. “And what about you? I thought you have a bes'kad class for the verd’ike this afternoon.”

“The class won’t start for another two hours and I really want a spice roll.”

You heard people behind you aww-ing and you buried your face into his shoulder, humming when you feel cool beskar against your blushing cheek. Din smiled behind his helmet, paying for three spice rolls to go, never once he let your hand go. You got back to the palace with twenty minutes to spare and herded the ad’ike to the Mand’alor’s office.

“Knock when you need him and don’t come in before I answer.” You rushed into the room when you spotted Kryze marching to stop you.

“You two better not be having se-”

“Young ears, Kryze! Manda, we’re just gonna eat Spice Rolls!” You held the pastry packages up for her to see, holding your laughter when you saw her scowling.

“Spice rolls better not be a code for something else, Djarin! You have a meeting in twenty minutes!”

Din closed the door on her face and you locked it with the force for good measure before dissolving into giggles. Din lifted his helmet up and immediately pressed a longing kiss to your lips. The kiss was uncoordinated since the two of you couldn’t stop grinning. The kiss, and the pastries were heavenly, Grogu and Aranar shared a piece, for your peace of mind. After all, it was you who had to wrangle two sugar-high toddlers in the training yard as you teach advanced sword techniques to a group of heavily armed teenagers who happened to be Mandalore's newly sworn warriors.

The impending knock finally came and you shared another sugary sweet kisses with your riduur before you put his helmet back on and sent him away to his duty. The door was barely closed when you were hit with realization.

Fuck, you thought. We’re soul-bonded.

**

Overall, there are worse people to be soul-bonded with. Having one with your own riduur is not a bad thing at all. Having one with your riduur without any source to soul-bond knowledge, however, is another piece of work. Putting a mental shield up against your own riduur feels wrong but you do it anyway, respecting his privacy to his own mind.

Until today.

Today, you feel a gentle nudge at your brick wall of a mental shield, laced with Din's warm force presence. You could've brushed him off and shielded yourself better, but you thought to yourself that a small peak wouldn't be bad.

You're wrong. Oh, you're so wrong because it's bad. Your hand directly flies towards your mouth and you try to stifle a moan as a yawn.

In his fantasy, Din had you bent over the meeting table and he's pounding into you. He has his hand on the small of your back, pressing you down to the table. You're completely naked against the table, pinned beneath the beskar of his armor. You can hear the filthy sound of his cock ramming into your sopping cunt. Din grabs a fistful of your hair, making you cry his name out loud, losing yourself to the stretch and the hard thrusts of Din's cock.

“Oh fuck-” you grit your teeth, clenching your fist on your thigh. You sit there, stunned, breathless, unable to stop watching.

“Can you feel how good this pussy stretches around me, rid’ika?” Din grunts, holding you so close to his hips while his fingers reach down, rubbing your swollen clit. “Such a good girl, do you wanna cum, mesh'la? Wanna soak my cock and make me give you another ik’aad?”

Maker, yes! You thought, trying your damn hardest not to whine while the version of you in his mind is whimpering and begging him to make you cum. Din leans to your ear, telling you to come. You’re shuddering in his arm, moaning his name in a punched out noise with a telltale sign of orgasm, and you snap yourself out of his imagination.

You put your strongest mental shield up and you lean to the plush seat, blinking and looking around the room as you settle yourself back to reality. Din is sitting on the head of the table, looking over his own datapad as he watches a member of his council talk about Mandalore’s quarterly budget report. If you didn’t know better, you’d think your riduur is actively listening to the report instead of daydreaming about fucking you over this very table.

You tread carefully when you're back home. You put Aranar and Grogu to sleep late, making sure they are a little bit more tired than usual so they sleep soundly later tonight. Once the kids are out like lights, you take the baby monitor with you and change into one of Din’s loose shirts.

You find him still seated on the dining table, tapping things into his datapad. You smirk to yourself, walking towards him and leaning over the dining table to take your own datapad that you could easily reach if you make an extra trip to the end of the table. Din can't stop staring, making no move to help you, instead he stands up from the chair and moves to cup the swell of your ass, just like how he imagined before.

“Careful, rid’ika, you don't know what kinda game you're playing here.”

You whine when his hand moves underneath the shirt, trailing up your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. He whispers praises to your ear, biting down your jaw and your neck.

“Fuck, look at you, mesh'la, you're expecting this, huh?” He lifts the shirt up, revealing nothing underneath other than your glistening cunt. “I haven't even done anything, rid'ika, and this pretty pussy's already all wet for me.”

You moan softly when his fingers find your clit, rubbing on it as you shudder in his arms. Din sinks two fingers into your wet heat and he groans when he feels how wet you are. He thumbs on your clit as he keeps pumping in and out of your cunt, spreading your arousal all over his fingers and your inner thighs until you shake beneath him, then he pulls off of you.

“No, cyare please, I'm so close- Ah!” You cry as his fingers leave you, only to moan loudly when he kneels behind you and he slaps your soaked pussy.

“Needy girl,” he teases, slapping your clit again, ignoring your cries. He parts your folds with his tongue until his smart mouth finds your clit and he starts sucking on the sensitive nub. You grip the edge of the table tightly as you grind against his face, smearing your arousal all over his lower face. Din tuts, holding your hips in place, chuckling when he sees your hole clenches around nothing.

“You know what you get for being such a good girl, cyar’ika?” Din asks, his fingers are back on your clit, rubbing the bundle of nerve in a tight circle as you buck violently against his fingers. “Good girl gets to come on my face.”

His lips are back on you, kissing, lapping, and sucking until you're a whimpering mess. You let out a high pitched whine and you come on his mouth, flooding him with your arousal as he keeps on sucking on your lips as you ride your orgasm.

Din grabs your chin towards him and he kisses you hard, his lips are glistening with the mixture of your cum and his spit and you can taste yourself on the tip of his tongue. Din pulls off of you and he turns you around, lifting you up to the edge of the table. He lays you down and he parts your legs with a steady hand on your inner thigh, keeping them apart so he can admire his hard work, your drenched cunt glistening with your sweet come. Din groans then he spits on your cunt, adding to the mess before smearing everything around with the thick head of his cock. He's painfully hard, his foreskin is pulled all the way back, revealing the flared tip, steadily leaking precum all over you. He lines himself up with your entrance and fucks all the way into you in one push. You watch as his thick cock stretches your hole, feeling yourself clinging to his girth, fluttering around him as you struggle to take his size. Both of you moan when he finally buries himself deep inside you, still holding tight to each other.

“Maker, been thinking about this sweet pussy all day.”

Oh, I know. You thought. “Yeah? Did you think about fucking me, ner riduur? Thought about how my pussy clenches around your cock? Did you think about filling me up with your cum until I'm swollen with your adi'ka?” You taunt him, circling your legs on his hips to keep him buried deep inside of you.

“Fuck!” Din swears, hissing while he steadily leaks precum all over your wet heat, leaning his head to yours and rutting deep against your sweet spot. “You're playing with fire, rid'ika. Can't just say things like that.”

“But I want you to,” you beg, moaning wantonly when he starts pumping in and out of you. “Want you to keep fucking me until I'm so full and swollen with your baby.”

Din growls, pounding deep into you with punishing pace. He's watching you, watching your cunt swallowing his cock, watching your face grow slack with pleasure. You slip your hands under the shirt, covering your breast and squeezing them, making your milk leak until there's a wet patch over the shirt.

“Filthy girl,” Din grunts, pawing on the piece of clothing. “Lift it up baby, let me see.”

You lift the shirt up, revealing your breasts for him, shiny from both milk and sweat. Beads of your milk trickling from your nipples, leaking steadily as he fucks into you. He slips one engorged nipple to his mouth, sucking until he can taste you on his tongue while his fingers play with the abandoned one, rubbing and squeezing, spraying him with milk.

“Everything about you is just so sweet, rid'ika, my perfect girl.” He praises. He licks your nipple clean before switching to the other side, pressing open mouthed kisses before bringing the sensitive buds to his mouth and sucking on it, drinking you until he's full while his hand loves on the other one. His cock never stops pounding into you, bringing you closer and closer with each snaps of his hips.

He folds your legs into a mating press, tucking your knees against your chest and his cock is so deep inside you. So deep he reaches your cervix, kissing your womb with his tip. You clench hard around his length, your wall seizes violently around him, milking him irresistibly as he keeps hitting the spot that makes you see stars, begging him to please, never stop. You're wailing as your whole body shakes, tipping your head back and moaning Din's name so loud he has to cover your mouth with his palm, worried the filthy noises of the snap of his balls slapping your ass, your loud moans, and the squelching sound of your wet pussy might wake the sleeping kids up.

With a shaky shudder, you come down from your high, whining as Din keeps fucking you, chasing his own orgasm. After a few brutal thrust, your riduur groans loudly, shouting punched out moans as he peaks. His cock twitches in your soaked, messy cunt, filling you with his hot cum, flooding your insides and claiming you his. He kisses your lips, muffling both your moans, only parting to plant another kiss to your temple while he pumps you full of his cum, murmuring sweet, loving praises and filthy promises to you.

“That's a good girl, rid'ika. Take it, baby, gonna get you all round and pregnant. That's what you want, right? Want to give me another? Want to be bred all over again?”

Din keeps rutting with you until you both shake from overstimulation and he gently pulls out of you. He admires your blissed, fucked out face, trailing soft kisses down your jaw and your neck, sucking his marks all over your body. You tip his jaw up and catch his lips in another kiss, laced with a content smile, before breaking away to whisper sweet I love yous to each other.

Din gathers you in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom and lowering you gently into your shared bed. He leaves for the fresher, fetching a damp rag to clean you up before slipping into his side of bed beside you. He pulls you close, kissing your lips lovingly and rearranges the covers, tucking you into his arms.

“You're my dream girl, you know that right?”

“I tried,” you smile contently, caressing the scruff of his jaw softly.

“You don't have to,” Din mutters, humming when you snuggle closer to him, pressing your heartbeat over his. “You're perfect just the way you are.”

You exchange more kisses, lazily making out in bed until sleep takes over, safely nestled in each other's arms.

About a few weeks later, you start to feel the tiniest flutter in the force.

[icysnails]

Hello. I was wondering if you could you write a platonic angst story where the reader is Blade's child. I was thinking that because Blade barely spends any time with the reader unless it's during one of their extremely harsh training sessions the reader decides to run away especially after one particularly rough training session where the reader was injured after they accidentally talked back and that night the reader starts packing their stuff but they accidentally left behind their late mother's pendant and Blade found it the next morning. (I hope you're okay with writing this and I wish you a good morning, afternoon or good night ☺️)

Family.

A/n: Hello Anon!! Thank you for your request!! I am so sorry this took so long- school + extracurriculars started so I had way less time to work on writing outside of school (TvT) But this was so much fun to write! I got a little bit carried away and it ended up being a found family type thing with all of the Stellaron Hunters– I tried to focus on Blade being a father figure as much as possible though! I hope you have a fantastic day, and I hope you enjoy!! ૮꒰ ˶• v •˶꒱ა ♡

Warnings: all relationships are platonic, found family trope, betrayal, suicidal ideation (Blade), mentions of death, reader's parents are dead, flashbacks, reader runs away, mention of bullets + broken glass, overthinking, Blade being insecure, reader uses a sword, reader gets injured a couple of times (If i forgot anything, please let me know!!)

Genre: angst, slight fluff

Pairing: father figure!Blade x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), mother figure!Kafka x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC), sister figure!Silver Wolf x gn!child!reader (PLATONIC)

Word count: 7.3k

Blade is a cruel man. 

There is no love in the red pools of his irises, no signs of any humanity. Dark circles adorn the skin just below his merciless stare, eyebrows slightly furrowed in an eternal state of aggravation. It was no wonder enemies cowered at the mere mention of him. He holds nothing back, and if an enemy was unfortunate enough to meet the steely edge of his sword, they were sure to be broken and lifeless by the end of the encounter. Unfortunately, he isn’t much different off of the battlefield either. 

Blade is bitter and selfish and cold, to the extreme that even Kafka and Silverwolf are convinced that he has forgotten how to feel.

The thorns of the mara in his veins torment him constantly, the pain never faltering, even after decades. The other Stellaron Hunters had begun to wonder if those thorny, agonizing vines had punctured through his heart as well. It would be understandable, to an extent. After all, he is a man who has experienced endless with suffering and loss, his mind poisoned with grief and the sole desire to die. No more pain, no more fighting, just darkness- the mere thought was enough to drag a bitter smile out of him.

He was used to the dark, used to feeling like an empty vessel. 

But why, if he was so familiar with agony, would he impose that same feeling on you as well? 

You had always been alone. You were only a toddler when your parents were taken from you, the only proof of their existence being a necklace your mother left with you before she died. You had spent your youngest years void of any parental guidance, hopelessly wandering between foster homes and planets, hoping someone would take you in. You gave that up by age ten, running away from your home planet to travel the galaxy. From that point on, most of your time was spent sneaking onto Starskiffs, hiding in empty cargo compartments on any moving vehicle you could find, and even stealing authorization keys to search occupied space stations, all in search of someone whom you could call family. 

But what exactly did the word family mean?

You always thought it was a strange word. It had such a subjective meaning, yet it was talked about so often. You didn’t understand what it meant, and no textbook definition could help you. All your efforts to find its meaning were in vain. And yet, your curiosity haunted you. 

With every new destination, the word family buzzed among the crowds constantly. No matter where you had landed yourself, all you could do was spectate. You watched as children laughed and clung to the legs of their guardians, as relatives sobbed in unified grief over flower dressed gravestones, and as teenagers linked arms with each other, growing away from the protective grasps of their parents. 

Every planet you traveled to, every dragging, lonely step you took, that sickening, seemingly joyous word that made you feel so isolated was there.

Six months after you had ran away, you went out alone to buy food. It was late at night, and you were preparing to head off to another planet the next day. Luckily, you bumped into a nice shopkeeper earlier who gave you some extra credits because she thought your coat was cool (in reality, she was just worried about you wandering off all alone, but didn't want to pry about your parents' whereabouts). So, you headed out amongst the crowds as you always did, pouch of credits in hand and determination plastered on your face.

But a woman stopped you on the way there and asked why such a young child was wandering around alone at night. She had a little girl with her, who looked no older than you. 

She asked you if you had any family she could call to come and get you, with the assumption that you were lost. You couldn't say anything. Instead, you just stared, your wide-eyed gaze pinned on the child that almost mirrored you. Almost. Perhaps if the world were kinder, your eyes could have donned the same innocent, joyful light. One of her hands was encased by her mother’s, while her other hand kindly reached out towards you. A cheerful “hello!” rang through the air as she tried to shake your hand. 

You stepped away from her. It was hard to breathe. You had seen all this before. Yet why was it so painful this time? 

Internally, you demanded the Aeons to tell you why the truth of your situation had to be rubbed in your face so blatantly. You were alone. You wondered if it might be good to explain that to them, to create some kind of connection with these people, but no words would leave your throat. Your heart felt like it was splintered in two.

You didn’t know how long you stood there staring, but you were sure the devastation tearing you up inside was evident on your face. The woman called out to you one more time, her worry falling on deaf ears as you backed away slowly. You took one more look at the girl before turning on your heel and running as fast as you could, sobs wracking your chest so deeply it hurt. 

You hadn’t returned to that planet since then.

You wanted the life that little girl had. You wanted to have a guardian.

But as the years went on, nothing changed. Your travels continued, and you came to terms with the fact that you might never know what family felt like. You made acquaintances as you traveled, friends, even. They never stuck around for long, though. The darkness always swallowed them up one way or another. And with every loss, the painful void in your chest numbed and steeled over a little more.

You thought that your life would always be this way. In truth, you had forgotten that there was any other way to live.

However, that was before a certain group of Stellaron Hunters swept you away from your life of solitude, and recruited you into their dangerous yet thrilling world. 

A year later, you found yourself on a sand covered planet. You were on a train, heading to one of the planets' larger cities from a smaller town. There wasn’t any way you walk- it was too hot and the distance was too far. Otherwise, you would have spent your savings on something other than train tickets.

The trip was uneventful and for most of it you just stared blankly out the window, exhaustion and boredom settling in your bones. You were tired from running errands for the previous town's residents- it was onerous but it happened to pay well. Though you were happy to have a break, your mind wasn’t used to the quiet. The barren landscape outside did nothing to help. It was a dry, flat expanse that was dotted only with dead weeds and the scraps of broken automatons. In short, nothing of interest.

Aside from that, all was going well. You had enough credits to last you at least six more train rides and get food and extra supplies, and you had several acquaintances with whom you could stay in the next city. You made a point not to talk about your budgeting skills, as it would usually spur a torrent of questions from whoever you were talking to. You couldn’t blame them though, children your age typically didn’t devote themselves to a life of aimless travel. 

The train stopped right on time, and you stepped onto the platform that was crowded with people. As usual, you were met with the sight of teary-eyed relatives hugging each other, children running around and playing, and couples greeting each other. You kept your head down, feeling more inconvenienced than sad. In their excitement, the crowds always seemed to block your path to the other platforms. Besides, they say time heals all wounds, so why would you care, anyway? You awkwardly shoved your way toward a nearby stairwell, grunting as several people bumped into you. Just as your fingers made contact with the stair’s banister, ear shattering sirens echoed throughout the station.

Emergency lights flashed on and off in a blinding rhythm, the red glow engraining itself into your mind. Suddenly, pixelated bullets flew towards the ceiling, shattering several of the glass panels. Screams rang out in response, and the previously happy crowd flew into a panic, ducking to avoid the broken glass. However, the glass shards evaporated into more pixels before they could hit the crowd, preventing any damage from being done.

Amidst the swarms of people trying to escape, you cautiously walked closer to the source of the commotion. You really shouldn’t have, but the nagging curiosity in the back of your mind compelled you to do so. And even if it seemed dangerous, there was something off about this incident. After all, if the initiators were out for blood, wouldn’t they have attacked the crowd directly? If whoever caused this wasn't intending to cause harm, they must be looking for something.

As you got closer, you saw three figures: A magenta haired woman with lightless eyes, a pistol in one hand, and a glowing thread of purple silk in the other. She was leaning back against one of the platform’s pillars, watching the whole scene with fake amusement. The second person you saw was a smaller girl decked out in a myriad of purples and blues, her drill style ponytail swaying as she typed up coordinates on a hologram screen. And lastly, you saw a red eyed man with a glare so sharp it made your heart sink. You certainly did not want to be subject to whatever rage he had stored away. From the looks of it, he could kill you in a split second.

For some reason, all three of them seemed familiar. You couldn't quite place it, but you quickly realized, you knew who they were. Their faces were plastered on all of the IPC’s wanted posters, which were scattered on literally every planet you had been to so far. You couldn’t remember their names exactly, but you knew that, together, they were known as the Stellaron Hunters- the universe’s most wanted criminals. You should have recognized them from the pixelated bullets earlier- how could you have been so naive?

You could have tried to run, but it would be futile. You were already out in the open, and they had already seen you.

Your eyes widened in sheer panic as the man dressed in black set his gaze on your shaking form. There was no way you’d survive this encounter. Absolutely zero chance. He stepped toward you but was interrupted by the sound of a clanging of a spear. The station’s security officers surrounded the Stellaron Hunters, demanding that they freeze and turn themselves in immediately.

You covered your ears and ducked as a fight broke out, the Stellaron Hunters throwing themselves into battle. Your eyelids were screwed shut in fear until the sounds of fighting had ceased. When you opened your eyes, you looked up to see that all of the guards had been knocked out, and that the taller woman standing above you, watching you in a way that was eerie, yet... comforting somehow. Even so, your better judgment caused you to back away, frantically scrambling on the hot cement of the platform. The red eyed man yanked you to your feet before you could stand up, and a panicked noise left your throat as he dragged you toward his two companions. you caught a glimpse of his sword that was poised in his other hand, taking note that he was ready to strike if necessary.

“It’s a kid.” He grumbled, still glaring at you. 

The tall woman chuckled and took a step forward, observing the way you struggled to get out of her companion’s grasp. You were getting more anxious by the second, she could tell. No matter how strong and collected you acted, you were still just a kid, and you had the minimal strength of one.

“Let them go, Blade. I don’t think they mean any harm.”

Small, scared breaths left your throat as you were released, your shaking legs failing to hold you up. You fell to the ground, staring in shock at all that had occurred. What would have happened if they didn’t let you go? How much danger were you really in, and how the hell were you still alive?

Then, the monotone voice of the grey haired girl met your ears. 

“What a waste. Looks like those signals were nothing but a glitch.” She sighed. “There's nothing for us here.”

The scary man who grabbed you- Blade, as the woman called him- looked down at you crumpled form, eyes softening just the tiniest bit. Your fearful gaze met his, and you didn’t dare move. The two other hunters made conversation about their next moves in the background, while Blade narrowed his eyes coldly.

“Why aren’t you running?”

…What?

“Go. Lingering here will only bring you suffering”

Your fearful gaze then turned to one of confusion. It was unclear if his words were meant to be a warning or advice. Either way, it gave you the strength to pull yourself off the ground and attempt to respond, but all that came out of you was a strangled groan. Your body hurt, and everything had happened so fast that your mind was still trying to catch up. It wasn’t that you were trying to make an impression by staying, you just couldn’t bring yourself to run because of the adrenaline coursing through you. You hunched over and placed your hands on your knees to get your bearings. After a few minutes, you finally responded.

“Y- yeah, I… uh…” You hesitated, unsure of what to say. “...I have another train to catch...?” 

It came out like a question, which was unintended. It was the truth, but you were so nervous that you would say something wrong and provoke him. Your life may have been spared for the moment, but they could still change their minds, and you didn't want to re-dig your own grave.

The man beside you let out a small sigh before turning his gaze back to his two companions.

“Fine.” He muttered.

A few moments passed with you and Blade sitting in comfortable silence. or, it was comfortable him, at least. He was still and silent, ignoring you entirely. You just kept fidgeting the whole time, unsure if you should stay or run for the hills. It was borderline suffocating. thankfully, the tall woman came over again, ending your misery.

“Well, we’re off.” She said to Blade, prompting him to walk towards the edge of the platform where the smaller girl stood. Before walking off, she turned to you one last time. 

“Take it easy, kid.”

Something in your heart screamed at you to speak up. A strange urge began eating away at you, telling you that if you didn’t do something right now you’d regret it for the rest of your life. But do what? What could you do without potentially dying? It was stupid. And dangerous.

But that old feeling of longing, that desire to be a part of something wouldn’t leave you alone. Your desperation to attain a family of your own had been reawakened. Your undying hope, which laid dormant for years, was now ruling your judgment.

Just as they turned to leave, you stumbled forward and cried out.

“Wait!”

All three heads turned towards you. 

A purple set of eyes knowingly scanned you as you trembled, a smirk growing on the woman’s face. 

You anxiously gripped at your clothing, trying to summon up the courage to put on some kind of brave face for them. Before you think, pleas for them to take you with them were spilling from your throat. You told them that you wanted to see the universe and that if they gave you that opportunity, you’d do whatever you could to assist them. It was a partial lie- exploring the universe did sound fun, but it wasn't what you were truly after. Your true motivations were far too personal to tell them just yet. It felt like a wound had unexpectedly reopened ever since they arrived, and you were sure you’d crumble if you forced yourself to explain.

Luckily, you didn’t have to. You had the strangest feeling that they already knew your story to some extent. Even without the influence of your longing, you couldn’t deny that it was the opportunity of a lifetime. It wasn’t every day that you came across three highly skilled fighters who could quickly travel anywhere they wanted. You could save years worth of credits and injuries if you went with them.

Once you had finished your frantic explanation, you took a breath to calm your pounding heart. The silence you were met with was deafening, which you took to be a bad sign. A deep chuckle reverberated through the elegant woman’s chest as she took a decisive step closer to you. She hummed in amusement, holding her hand out for you to take.  

“You may not be crucial to our mission,” she leaned down to your height, voice almost a whisper, “but if that’s what you want, then who are we to disagree?”

You took her hand, heartbeat slowing to a calm pace as you did so.

The days you spent with the Stellaron hunters were some of the most peaceful days you had ever experienced. 

You weren’t constantly slinking around trying to find information and resources for your travels, and it was the first time you had slept in a room that had officially been dubbed as your own. You weren't hopping between inns and the homes of your few friends. Even expenses weren't an issue anymore. It felt strange to have time on your hands. Guilt inducing, even.

You didn’t get too caught up in that though, since the confusion and questions plaguing your mind happened to be stronger than your melancholy. It was beyond your understanding how three of the most dangerous criminals in the entire universe could be so kind and willing to take you in. Perhaps it was because you had seen too much. You were a witness to Blade knocking out over ten armed guards. However, they were so powerful that they seemed to be able to get away with anything. Either way, you were a part of their goup, and that's what mattered.

As time went on, you grew closer to the Stellaron Hunters. Especially Kafka, who you learned was much less intimidating in regular life, and Silver Wolf, who was still as deadpan as before, but seemed subtly happier with you around. You also were officially introduced to Blade, and were promised that he wasn't always so brooding. That was hard to believe, though.

Silver Wolf was like a sister to you. She dragged you with her everywhere. She said it was a part of your duties to accompany her on errands, but in reality, she just enjoyed having you with her. Whenever a battle presented itself, she would have you on the sidelines cheering for her as she obliterated enemies in the blink of an eye. It was clear that your support went straight to her ego, but she also secretly wanted to impress you so that you'd view her as some sort of mentor. Silver Wolf wanted to be a reliable guide and friend to you, especially after you had been alone for so long. Thankfully, you didn’t mind spending time with her. In fact, chatting and playing video games with her became one of your favorite ways to kill time. The latter was clearly her passion– after all, her combat techniques were solely revolved around her exceptional hacking skills. 

Silver Wolf taught you how to play all her favorite games, staying calm and patient with you when you kept losing. Often, she would discreetly take you out to arcades during your free time, and every time it would be humbling due to your lack of gaming experience. However, losing meant that you had more time to watch her win, which was never boring. In any other situation, you might have been jealous, but it was just so mesmerizing to watch her play. Besides, she gave you all her prizes, so you weren’t going to complain. But what you found to be even more amusing was watching her lose it over the few games she hadn’t mastered yet. Her face would contort into one of sheer disbelief and anger as she held onto the machine tightly, aggressively mashing buttons and mumbling insults. You would always laugh and try to cheer her up in response. It always gave her a huge ego boost, and convinced her to try again, despite still being angry. You never expected to gain such a dear friend when you joined the Steallaron Hunters, and you wouldn’t trade any part of your friendship for the world.

Kafka was another story, though.

At first, Kafka terrified you. She held so much power over the other hunters- well, really over everything, that you were sure she’d destroy you if you stepped out of line. Her empty eyes and ruthless reputation didn’t help either. 

Ever since your arrival, Kafka kept a close eye on you. She made sure that you were alright as you settled in, and that you weren’t feeling unsafe or lonely in your new environment. She offered you comfort and advice and cared for you like the mothers you had witnessed on your past journeys. 

One night, a month after you had arrived, you hurt your leg on a walk and Kafka was right there to patch you up. She shushed you gently as you tried to protest that you were fine, and dragged you to the nearest chair so you could sit. She took a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet, and began tending to your wound. You winced as rubbing alcohol combined itself with your blood, and you quietly explained that you had been doing this your whole life- that it wasn’t her job to take care of you. Kafka paused and looked at you, eyes showing a rare glint of sadness. She whispered to you that those days were over. You weren’t alone anymore, and you should ask the three of them for help whenever you needed it. You weren’t a burden to them. 

Kafka wasn’t sure what the cause of it was, but something in her chest began to ache when she saw you injured. She had never felt fear before. She deemed it impossible before you came along. She had always been known as a ruthless, unshakeable force of danger, who would stop at nothing to achieve her goals. But now, she had to keep you safe. Part of her wanted to berate herself for getting so protective over someone, for willingly weakening herself by caring about you. But you needed safety and a group of loving people to return to. You were just a kid, after all, and even after the short time you had been traveling with them, she had begun to feel like your guardian.

Tears filled your eyes, her words weighing down on your lungs. You couldn’t truly believe her. Not after all you had been through. But even so, Kafka was right in front of you, smiling softly, waiting and willing to take care of you. She wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. It was a foreign feeling, one that scared you more than anything else. But you were safe. You were at home. 

So you let yourself cry. Your heart split open, all the bottled up agony from your past finally bursting out. You curled into yourself, the gash on your leg long forgotten. Kafka kneeled before you and gently wrapped her arms around your shaking form. One of her hands carded through your hair, while the other rubbed your back soothingly. Gentle whispers fell from her lips, promising you that she was with you. You were safe.

You weren’t sure how long had passed when you calmed down. Maybe it had been hours. Whatever the truth was, Kafka remained by your side, not pulling back until she was sure you were okay. After you had stopped crying, she leaned back, meeting your sad, exhausted stare. She looked down at your bleeding wound, grabbed a roll of bandages, and cautiously wrapped it around your leg. When she was finished, she smiled and stood up, placing a hand on your shoulder. You matched her smile, assuring her that you were fine.

However, after a moment, Kafka’s comforting smile was replaced with a teasing smirk. Confusion sparked in your eyes and your eyebrows furrowed as if to silently ask what the problem was. She just chuckled and took a seat across from you, crossing her arms over her chest and tilting her head back as though she was assessing you. Her next words not only shocked you but caused your entire being to wilt in annoyance and anxiety.

“I think it’s about time we start training you in combat. If a scrape has you in this much pain, imagine the damage a real battle would do. We can’t have you dying on us, now can we?” 

She paused, thinking for a moment before reaching her conclusion. 

“Yes… I’ll have you train with Blade. His abilities never disappoint.”

And that was how your ongoing feud with Blade began. 

When Kafka decided to pair you up with Blade, you were pissed. However, you knew she was right. If you were falling apart just from accidentally scraping yourself, how were you supposed to handle actual threats? You would be utterly useless in a fight. And if anyone managed to get past the Stellaron Hunters and attempt to harm you, you would be dead on the spot. There wouldn't be a fight, just abrupt darkness, and a very disappointing end to a life such as yours. It would shatter the hearts of Kafka and Silver Wolf, who had already sworn to protect you at any cost. As you got older, the target on your back only became bigger. With the Stellaron Hunters’ reputation becoming more notorious by the day, civilians and authorities alike were bound to find out about you. Self-defense was a necessity.

But Blade never spoke to you. You felt as though you were a nuisance to him. Just another issue to be dealt with, another soul to pester him throughout the day. The way he glared at you made you wonder if you had done something wrong, or if you were imposing by being around. He made you feel out of place. Even after thorough reassurance from Kafka and Silver Wolf that his behavior was entirely normal, you still couldn’t help but worry. It was only after several months had passed that you came to understand that it truly wasn’t you- he was just grumpy. And that began to annoy you. If he wasn’t open to being somewhat nice, then why should you bother? You could glare back just as hard, and ignore him just as easily. If that's what he was getting at, then so be it. However, Kafka was the leader of both of you, and she wanted you to train. Despite your mild hatred of Blade, Kafka already had done so much for you. She only wanted the best for you. You could at least attempt to abide by her wishes.

So you gave in and begrudgingly stated training with Blade. 

For a few hours every day, you and Blade would find any open area and he would walk you through different defense techniques. You expected the technical side of it, but you did not expect that you would be sparring right off the bat. On the first day of training, he threw you into your first match and charged at you with the assumption that you had sharp enough reflexes to block him successfully. Obviously, you weren’t at all prepared since you had zero experience with combat. Turns out Kafka really wasn’t kidding when she said Blade knew how to fight.

Lessons carried on like this for weeks. You would return from sparring exhausted and bruised, feeling completely done with everything as you limped to your room to sleep. You felt generally bitter, making it hard for Kafka or Silverwolf to help, and Blade just acted like it wasn’t his problem. The most he did was help you up, and that was only if you put up a good fight. But thankfully, after a while, Blade began to notice how badly the sparring affected you. It wasn’t like you were on the brink of death, but you were still in pain. And given your age, there was no doubt that it was a lot more overwhelming than anticipated. So Blade subtly began to take care of you a little more. It wasn’t much- he mainly just gave you icepacks whenever you needed them and helped you walk, but it was the most he knew how to do. He was clueless when it came to caring for people, especially children.

You were a persistent kid, which Blade found surprising. He thought you would have given up within the first week of training, but you just kept working at it. And while Blade found your stubborn behavior annoying most of the time, it assured him that you had enough courage to fight alongside him and the others. He knew you didn’t like him much, and he knew a part of you blamed him for the injuries you got, which was reasonable. As annoying as you found him, Blade never gave up on you, even when you messed up or got so frustrated that you cried. He never babied you during these moments either. Instead, he would walk you through what went wrong and have you run through the solution until you had it down cold. Even if you were upset, he wanted you to push through it and use your anger to become stronger. You had been fighting your whole life. You had the tenacity and potential to gain the strength that you required. Blade could tell that, even after joining them, you wanted a purpose. You wanted to explore the universe and find your place among the glowing webs of stars. However, the beauty of the galaxy came with dark and unfamiliar territory. If you were to traverse the universe, you had to learn how to handle to darkest parts of it.

Little by little, you improved. You worked as hard as possible until you were able to withstand Blade’s strength and evade his attacks properly. You had a long, long way to go before you could actually defeat opponents, but you could at least hold them off, which was just as important. Despite how grueling Blade’s teaching methods were, you did come to respect him more as your mentor. He looked out for you in his own distant ways and seemed to actually care about you. In truth, Blade had started getting protective over you- not that he would admit it. It wasn’t an overbearing kind of protectiveness- he just wanted you to stay out of trouble. It was nice to pass knowledge onto someone, and protect them from the world's dangers by doing so.

The truth was, even if Blade acted indifferently toward you, he secretly was really proud of you. He admired your kindness, even after all the pain you had been dealt. You kept smiling and picking yourself up, finding your back to the light time and time again. Perhaps that's what made you so different from him. His will to keep fighting was growing fainter by the day.

Even with your differences, you both became closer. Blade kept an eye on you whenever you left the ship, talked with you whenever you got bored, and even helped you whatever chores you had to do. Sure, you were stubborn, but Blade never grew to dislike you. Your relationship felt routine and safe- it held a sense of comfort that felt normal. Blade caught himself questioning if this was what family was meant to feel like. He couldn't remember, but a faint, distant memory assured him that it was. If he could contribute to the familial safety you longed for so much, he would gladly do so. 

Was that even possible, though?

Blade had very little experience with love of any kind. Any memories he had of his past friend and family were long gone. His own sense of self was unstable, so how could he provide stability for you? He couldn't bear the thought of causing you pain. Or, there was a chance that he would rub off on you. That you would start to become like him. That prospect was enough to make him feel sick. So he began distancing himself from you in any way he could.

Now, whenever you crossed paths he would treat you especially coldly. Most times he saw you, he walked past you and pretended you didn't exist at all. He was back to being rude and dismissive, even more so than when you first met him.

Instead of encouraging you during training, he would call you weak and pick apart everything you had done wrong. This was not received well by you. After all, you didn’t know if Blade’s behavior was your fault, or if this was just how he truly was. You felt dejected and lonely, even with the support from Kafka and Silver Wolf. Though you loved them immensely, Blade was also someone you cared about, and you didn’t want to lose another parental figure. After weeks of being ignored, hatred replaced any good image you had of him. What used to be a safe, happy friendship soon morphed into an incessant rivalry. 

It felt like Blade only wanted to see you unhappy. You imagined that he was secretly gloating over your distress- that you were nothing more than a temporary amusement to him. But you were wrong. So, so very wrong. Blade hated seeing you upset because of him. He was failing you by ignoring your wellbeing. You were just a kid. More importantly, you trusted him.

But it was for your own good, wasn’t it? His past was dark, and perhaps he was too, by nature. He would never forgive himself if he allowed harm to come to you. Even if that meant leaving you behind. No, he would much rather watch you grow up and live happily from afar. 

Kafka still wanted you to train though, so Blade couldn’t avoid you entirely. Sparring was the only time he saw you anymore. Your sessions with him were difficult, but not because the material was hard. In fact, it was harder for Blade than you. You would glare at him constantly and show complete indifference to everything, making it nearly impossible to communicate with you. He wasn’t doing much better either- he couldn’t bring himself to say anything to you. It felt like the consequences of his neglect were crawling up his back, ready to snap at him at any moment, and he knew that any day now, you would finally break. Soon, everything would fall apart.

You knew Blade was heartless, but his cruelty was amplified when you trained with him now. He went all out, forcing you to scramble for scraps of knowledge he had previously given you to win. But that wasn’t enough this time. You were too tired, physically and emotionally, to continue. You felt smaller and weaker than you had ever felt before.

Lightning-fast blows struck you from all sides, the scent of bloodstained spider lilies clouding your senses. You weakly pulled your sword out of its sheath and tried to block his attacks, but doing so would knock you off balance from the force of his blows. You fell back on the ground, coughing and clambering to your feet, promptly hurling yourself towards Blade with hopes of hitting him just once. Built-up anger from the last few weeks rushed through your heart, tears of desperation dripping down your cheeks. God, you were tired of this. Blade used to be your friend. You wanted to know what changed, and you wanted that piece of your family back.

In your fury, your reaction time fell short. Blade darted behind you and shoved you to the ground, watching coldly as you crumpled over in defeat. A glint of regret shone in his eyes, but he quickly covered it up by turning his back to you. Once more, you picked yourself up, your throat burning from the lack of a break. It must have been hours since the start of your match, but it might have just felt that way because you were the one getting injured. Never before had Blade fought you this hard. You weren’t prepared, and he knew that. You internally questioned if he was actually trying to make you despise him, albeit sarcastically. It hadn’t occurred to you yet that it might actually be the case. You shakily lifted your head to look at him, angrily mumbling something that Blade couldn’t understand.

Blade took a breath and turned around to face you, blank expression unwavering. 

“What was that?” He growled. The world seemed to fall silent as you locked your gaze with his in an act of defiance.

“I said, I hate you!”

You hated that you were crying. You hated feeling weak. You hated what he had put you through.

But you didn’t hate him. Not entirely.

You wanted to hate him fully. You wished you were strong enough to. But even then, as you wiped your tears and walked out, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him. Maybe it was the memories you had of when he felt like family, maybe it was inherent kindness or just plain stupidity. You couldn’t feel hatred. All you felt was dejection. So naturally, you began spiraling. 

If Blade didn’t want you around, there was a chance Kafka and Silver Wolf didn’t want you either. If it was possible that they secretly hated you too, you wouldn’t allow yourself to withstand their rejections as well. You might as well just get out of their way, and save yourself the trouble. It was nice feeling happy for a while. But it wasn’t what you were made for. It wasn’t how you were used to living. Perhaps this was a sign that your destiny rested in the familiar arms of solitude, away from the glowing crowds.

That night, when you returned from training, you bid Kafka and Silver Wolf goodnight and began packing your bags. When you were sure everyone had gone to sleep, you took your leave. You slipped out of the ship’s main entrance, the frigid night air numbing the uncertainty in your chest. You started walking, not sure where you were headed. You were out of practice with your usual travel routines, but that wasn’t important. As long as you were away from the Stellaron Hunters, you would be safe. Lonely, but safe. But even with your half hearted reasoning, you still felt a sinking feeling that this wasn’t right. That you might regret this. You shoved it off, cursing at yourself quietly for getting so softhearted. It was time to cut ties. It was for the best.

However, you had made one vital mistake. While preparing to leave, you had purposely left behind any photos or items given to you by Kafka, Silver Wolf, or Blade. In your rush to leave, you accidentally left behind something incredibly important to you: your mother’s necklace. 

You took it off and left it on your desk by accident. It was the last existing link between you and your biological parents and you cherished it because of that. So when Kafka found it the next morning, along with your neatly made bed and discarded photos, she knew something was very wrong. Silver Wolf burst into your room shortly after she found them, questioning Kafka about your whereabouts. She had no answer, all she could do was say she hadn’t seen you. Silver Wolf left worried and agitated, grumbling about how they had to find you. As Silver Wolf left, Blade approached your doorway with the intent of finding you for your training session, because at this point you would have been late. Gripping the necklace tightly, Kafka turned to face Blade. She knew there tension had been growing between you and him for the last month. If he was the cause of your absence, she would not let him get away unscathed.

Blade’s expression was serious, but Kafka could see the glint of confusion in his eyes. He seemed entirely clueless, so perhaps interrogating him wouldn't do much.

“There’s no sign of them anywhere on the ship,” she said softly, trying to keep her voice steady. “There’s only this.” Kafka gestured to the thin chain that lay forgotten on your desk. Dread immediately shot through Blade’s heart.

You had left.

And it was all his fault.

He neglected you. You had every right to leave. He was meant to be a guardian to you. It was his job- no, his privilege to keep you safe, and failed to do so. And now you could be anywhere in the galaxy, wandering aimlessly once again. Blade carefully took the necklace, trying to keep his composure as questions and visions of the worst raced through his mind. What if they never found you, or what if you had gotten hurt? What if it was too late, and you were already–

He didn’t allow that thought to finish itself. Catastrophizing would only slow the process of finding you. 

But would you even want to come back? Why would you, when you felt unwelcome enough to leave in the first place? And even if, by some miracle, you came back, would you ever trust him again? If you ever granted him forgiveness, would he even deserve it?

This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? That was why he pushed you away- so you would leave him alone. You were gone now, and he had gotten what he wanted. Was he truly so terrible that he would still be unhappy, even after he had achieved his desire?

It wasn't meant to go like this.

You weren't meant to leave them. It was his fault though, so maybe it was best to let you go.

Kafka’s piercing gaze bored into the side of Blade's head as she watched the gears turning inside his head. She took a short breath before heading towards the door. She was scared of losing you, and angry that they hadn’t noticed your absence until now. There was no time for emotions such as anger. You were missing. They had to find you.

Blade stood in the center of your room, now entirely alone. The metal of your necklace dug into his skin as he clutched onto it for dear life, his eyes falling to the pictures on your bed. You seemed so happy before. So did Kafka and Silver Wolf- he was happy too, though he was reluctant to admit it out loud. He had broken the loving family you had brought together. A strange family, but a family nonetheless. 

Blade kept staring. He wished he could go out looking for you. Unfortunately, wishes are not reality.

Blade would not search for you that day. He would be chained to where he stood, fighting with himself internally as time slipped by quietly. You could have died already. And he was just standing there, staring.

No, he would not look for you.

Because the truth cannot be denied, nor masked with excuses- in the end, Blade is a cruel man.

One who cannot be changed by anything.

[alastwhorez]

A Soldiers Love

♡ Pairing: Soldier!Alastor x Nurse!Reader

♡ Summary: Alastor is injured during the war, and you're there to care for his wounds

♡ Warnings: 18+ MDNI, unprotected sex, human alastor, oral, pet names, war, injuries, p in v, afab!reader, I think that's everything

♡An: I know Alastor wasn't alive in 1939, but for the sake of the story, let's pretend he was. Not proofread, possible spelling errors.

The year was 1939, and the world was engulfed in the flames of war. Alastor, once a charismatic radio host, now found himself in the uniform of a soldier. His sharp wit and charm were still intact, but the horrors of the battlefield had etched a new depth into his eyes.

You, a compassionate nurse, worked tirelessly in a field hospital, tending to the endless stream of wounded soldiers. Despite the chaos, your hands remained steady, your heart driven by a fierce determination to save lives.

One fateful day, Alastor was brought into the hospital, his body riddled with injuries, passed out from the pain. Your breath caught as you recognized the man who had once captivated the airwaves with his voice. Now, he lay before you, vulnerable and in need of care.

“Come on, stay with me,” you whispered, your voice steady despite the turmoil around you. You worked quickly, your hands moving with practiced precision to tend to Alastor’s wounds.

Alastor’s eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, the familiar spark of mischief returned. “Well, isn’t this a twist of fate?” he murmured, his voice weak but still carrying a hint of his old charm. Memories of Alastor saving you a few weeks prior from an enemy soldier flood your mind.

“Please, save your strength,” You replied, your focus remaining on tending to his wounds. “You’re not getting out of this that easily.”

As days turned into weeks, Alastor’s condition improved under yours and the other nurses' care. Despite the horrors of war surrounding you, a bond began to form. Alastor, once a voice that brought joy and laughter, found solace in your presence. You both shared stories, laughter, and moments of quiet reflection amidst the chaos.

One evening, as the sun set over the battlefield, Alastor and you sat side by side, watching the sky turn shades of orange and pink. “You know,” Alastor began, his voice softer than usual, “I’ve seen many things in my time, but nothing quite like you.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions. “And I’ve never met anyone like you, Mr. Hartfelt.”

As the night continued you and Alastor moved closer and closer towards one another. Alastor shared stories of his radio host days and wishing for nothing more than to get back to. He told you about his mom and how he missed her dearly. You told him about your life back home, about going to nursing school.

Ever since that night you and Alastor made it a tradition to meet every night. He would sneak away from his tent as night took over the skies and you once your duties for the evening were through.

The other nurses would tease you about Alastor, about how you two seemed to be glued to each other since the night you cared for his wounds.

Tonight was like any other night, finishing up work and getting ready to sneak away to the radio host turned soldier. All the other nurses on duty have called it a night and for once no patience In the medical tent. All you had left to do was finish cleaning up then off to see Alastor. What you weren't expecting was for someone to walk into the tent and hands to grip your waist.

You gasp turning around quickly only to come face to face with the man you've been craving to see all day. He was in his nightwear, pants and a t-shirt. His dog tags hanging around his neck.

Alastor looked down at you smiling as his grip on you tightened “did I scare you darlin’?” He said in a southern draw.

“Alastor” you say relieved “what are you doing here”

“wanted to see you, doll face” his smile growing. You took in his figure. Spotting a few cuts and bruises that weren't there the last time you saw the soldier.

“Why didn't you wait for me at our spot?

He laughs “I waited a half hour, you never showed so I came lookin’ for ya” your eyes widen realizing you were so busy finishing up work the time completely skipped your mind.

Alastor leaned down resting his head on your shoulder. “Got worried darlin'” his hands dip down to your hips “wanted to make sure you were alright” his voice deeper and the southern draw more prominent.

Your breath hitches in your throat as you first His shirt. He moves his head towards your neck placing a small kiss. “Been thinking about you all day, always thinking about you doll”

You feel your face Heat up at his confession. “Only thing that gets me through the day is thinkin’ ‘bout you and knowing I get to see you that evening”

Your hands find his hair and grip the strands “Al” you whisper.

“Want you so bad darlin’” his hold on your hips tightens, bunching up your uniform slightly causing it to lift higher up your legs. “Tell me you want me to, that You crave this just as much as I do” He places Another kiss to your neck this time right below your ear. “Have wanted you since I woke up here all those weeks ago. Couldn't keep my eyes off you”

You say his name again, more breathy this time as you tug on his hair.

“you have no idea how hard it is to share you with the other men. How much I have to hold back from killing them when they come back from here talking ‘bout the pretty little nurse who took care of them. My nurse, my darlin’” He nips you ear “you're mine right? My little sweet thing, my cute little nurse” He pulls your uniform up higher. “tell me you want this”

You nod “please Al”

He chuckles hearing you beg “use your words darlin’ gotta tell me what you want”

You whine against him when he pushes his hips flush against yours. “want you, have wanted you since you came here all beaten and bruised. So jealous of the other nurses who got to help you, got to touch you”

He smirks against your skin, letting out a breathy laugh. “aww is my sweet little nurse being possessive over her patient? Want to keep me all to yourself? Tell me love, what did you want to do to the other who helped me? Who helped me bathe, change my clothes, and the dressings for my wounds?”

You whine again. “wanted to kill em. Wanted to be the only one you needed”

Alastor smiles and starts walking you backwards towards one of the medical cots. “Wanted to take you since the moment I laid eyes on you sweetness”

“Oh Al, I want you too. Wanted it so bad. I would have let you.” the back of your legs hit the cot and you fall back onto your back Alastor hovering over you, his hands on either side of your head. He leans down his lips ghosting over yours “tell me you're mine”

“all yours Alastor” you whisper against his lips. He smiles before slamming his lips into yours in a heated kiss. Moaning at the taste of you.

You arch your back pressing Your chest Into his as you fist his shirt. Alastors hands move to your knees,sliding up towards your thighs, pushing your uniform up in the process. He parts your legs and lays in between them. His hips flush with yours.

You moan as he slips his tongue into your mouth, his cock twitching in his pants at the sound. You grind up against him and he starts to slowly rock his hips into you meeting you halfway. Alastor continues to hump Your clothed cunt.

He pulls away trailing kissing down your neck towards your chest. He starts unbuttoning Your uniform His lips following his hands down your body. Once he has your uniform removed he is face to face with your dripping cunt. He looks up at you with a silent question. You nod your head and he pulls your panties down as he trails kissing on your thigh. Biting and sucking the skin, leaving marks for Only your eyes to see.

Alastors breath fans over your cunt making you arch your back before he dives in. He starts off slow with kitten licks but you grind against his face trying to get more friction. He laughs and speeds up as he flattens his tongue against you giving you long licks.

your Moaning and whining as you fist his hair. Begging Him to keep going. You cum on his tongue soon after He inserts a finger, pumping slowly and curling it against the spot that Has you seeing stars.

Alastor Is grinding his leaky cock against the cot. Searching for any friction he can find, chasing his own release. He moans at the taste of you. You're the sweetest thing to ever grace his tongue.

He adds a second finger curling them when you scream out his name. He chuckles against you. Before long he has you finishing on his fingers as he licks up the juices. You pull him up To your face by his hair.

“Just fuck me already Al” you beg

He laughs “Such foul language for a lady”

You whine and wrap your legs around his waist grinding up into him. Feeling the outline of his cock “please, please need it so bad”

He laughs again “how could i say no when you beg so nicely hmm?”

You pull his shirt off of him tossing it somewhere in the ten as he pulls his pants down lining up at your entrance before slowly pushing in. You moan against each other's lips before he is claiming your lips again as he starts moving his hips. His dog tags rocking against you as they hang from his neck.

You scratch down his back leaving marks surely his fellow soldiers will see tomorrow. he groans at the feeling of your nails on his skin.

His hand moves down your body searching for your bundle of nerves. He starts rubbing as he picks up the speed of his thrusts. You cum for the nth time tonight, cunt squeezing his aching cock. You scream out his name in pleasure. He moans your name against your lips as he chases his own release, finishing soon after you, filling you up.

You two lay there In a comfortable silence as you both catch your breath. Alastor trails kissing over your face, and shoulders. Kissing the Marks he left behind as his hands massage your thighs.

“I love you Alastor” you whisper

“Love you too darlin'” he smiles down at you.

The next day you can't stop smiling, blushing everytime you see Alastor or someone mentions him.

The other nurses notice the bite marks and bruises on your neck and joke about Alastor giving them to you while the other soldiers see the scratch marks you left behind on Alastor's back.

His smile widens at their questions, and he smugly hints at the fact he claimed you as his the night before and hopefully every night to come after.

[in1-nutshell]

(Forgive me If I already requested this again, but I kind of forgot but)

I really loved your requests about bot buddy con having the personality of death in puss and boots: the last wish!

Now I wanna see Bumblebee’s reaction finally getting to meet the con (plus some more bots who haven’t met as well)

Haven't seen this Buddy in a hot minute.

There was another request with a similar ask, so I'm mixing the two into this one.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy with the personality of Death from "Puss in Boots The Last Wish" with Bumblebee, Bulkhead, Ratchet, and Arachnid

SFW, Mention of death and injuries, Cybertronian reader

TFP

Bumblebee

Bumblebee tries to hide how terrified he is.

He has most of his team fooled, but even they know that he has some fear over this Con.

Everyone does.

As far as Bumblebee knows, he was the only Autobot in history to have landed one shot on this Con. Bad thing being that now they have a special vendetta against him.

Firmly believes that they are some supernatural being of vengeance and death.

It is the only explanation that he can think of.

His team knows that the con has some sort of vendetta against him and actively helps him out of situations fast.

He is extremely thankful for their actions.

Sometimes when things get too quiet, he sometimes thinks he can hear the whistling through the walls.

Bumblebee walking through the empty base.

The eerie sound of The Whistle sound through the halls.

Bee just stays in his place in absolute terror as the lights flicker a bit.

The lights turn back to their normal state and The Whistle disappears.

Bee slowly walks back to the main room with shaky blaster at the ready.

Bulkhead

Bulkhead has an intense fear of the Con.

It rivals his fear of Scraplets.

He has completely frozen on the battlefield when hearing The Whistle.

Bulkhead has lost so many of his friends and companions thanks to this Con.

The absolute carnage he has seen after they leave is enough to make him sick in his tanks for days.

He is trying to respond differently to the whistle instead of freezing, its kind of hard to cover for his giant frame or even attempt to move him.

Bulkhead readying his wrecking ball for the reinforcements.

The Whistle is carried through the air like an omen.

“BEEP! Boop bep— (BULKHEAD! Bulkhead where--)"--Bumblebee

Bulkhead snatching Bumblebee up and sprinting to the groundbridge with shaky servos.

Ratchet

Ratchet gets chills down his spine every time someone comms in about the Con being in the area.

He has seen this Con up close before.

Not because he had to patch them up, but because they had purposely gotten close to him.

They didn’t do anything as he froze in fear over the deceased body of a comrade. Just a simple look before walking away and disappearing into the smoke of the battle.

Ratchet absolutely loathes the sound of the whistle. It brings back too many unpleasant feelings that almost make him freeze.

He believes the Con has a soft spot for medics.

That is the only reason why he has stayed alive near them for so long.

He could only wish for that luck to be sent to his team.

Ratchet on the field helping Bumblebee to the groundbridge.

The Whistle is sharp and close.

Ratchet picks up Bumblebee and tries to trek faster to the groundbridge.

Out of the corner of his optic he spots the familiar figure emerging from the smoke. They only look at Ratchet as he throws Bumblebee in and then goes in himself.

Arachnid

Nope.

This is the one Con that Arachnid refuses to mess with.

This Con’s even more lethal than she is and 10 times more dangerous.

At this point she half believes that this isn’t a Cybertronain, but an evil primordial being.

She tries to pretend that the whistling doesn’t bother her.

It’s a lie.

But maybe… maybe this is just some big shot trying to one up her on her own game.

Two can play that game.

Arachnid walking through the forest stalking an unsuspecting Breakdown and Dreadwing.

Arachnid is about to deliver the fatal blow when something sharp cuts her webs.

It’s a very familiar looking scythe.

Too familiar…

“Insubordination and attempt to murder a fellow Decepticon? Oh that simply won’t do.”--Buddy

Arachnid looks at Buddy’s frightening red optics.

“I’ll have your helm mounted on my wall!”--Arachnid

Arachnid tries to strike at Buddy.

She fails and gets pinned to the ground by the scythe.

“Oh, dear Arachnid… this is long overdue… and I’m going to enjoy this very much.”--Buddy

A bit later Buddy emerges from the bush scaring Breakdown and Dreadwing.

“Where did you come from? Not that we aren’t--”--Breakdown

“It no longer concerns you Breakdown. The danger is gone now.”--Buddy

“Danger?”--Dreadwing

“No longer exists. Now, lets get back to the Nemesis, shall we?”--Buddy

[fairytale-poll]

SEMIFINAL ROUND, MATCH 2 OUT OF 2!

Propaganda Under the Cut:

Miss Piggy:

In the movie, she pretends to be Lady Holiday and when her identity is revealed is leaves on of her shoes there cinderella style.

Cinders:

She spent decades searching every moon and planet trying to find her wife (Rose), who was kidnapped on their wedding day. Eventually, she found Rose, and they embraced, only for Rose to die in Cinder’s arms. And so Cinder killed the king who had kidnapped Rose by punching through his chest and into his heart.

And then Cinder got a somewhat happy ending, in which she met Rose’s clone who had Rose’s memories.

What if Cinderella was a Sci-Fi lesbian? Well here she is. She has a whole love song about searching the stars for her girlfriend after their wedding was interrupted and she was taken away. She spends years searching only to when she finally finds and embraces her watch her be shot. Cinders is so devastated by this that she plunges her wedding ring into the heart of the man who shot her love killing him.

Lesbian space princess who elopes with the terrifying soldier who was previously conquering her planet and spends decades searching for her when they’re separated. Listen to her song https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=6w9V-gMgBF4

I think the way she punches the evil king through the heart as revenge for her wife is pretty neat.

She’s a revolutionary married to a woman, what’s not to love? From Cinders’ Song: “ When I was a little girl, my mother always told me / “Someday your prince will come, my love” / But as I grew, I knew it was a princess who would hold me”.

her girlfriend got cloned and most of said clones were brutally slaughtered in war and she searched for her girlfriend all throughout the galaxy and when they were finally reunited on the battlefield her girlfriend died. and a clone of her girlfriend who due to technical errors retained her memories, so does that count as the same girlfriend? theseus’s girlfriend? anyway vote for cinders she’s been through hell

Lesbian!! Has to search for her lost love Rose with her glass wedding ring that changes color when its near its partner!! Gets to embrace Rose once again for one final moment before the villain kills Rose right in front of her!! So Cinders kills him in return!! And she’s left as (almost) the only surviving main character from her own album but!! She is eventually reunited with a clone of Rose, and while they cannot have a truly ‘happy ever after’ together they are the ones graced with the closest thing to it

SPACE LESBIANS (she’s in love with Rose Red, who gets kidnapped on their wedding day and Cinders searches the galaxy to find her, waiting for her white ring to turn crimson, indicating that its twin was near) She took her name from the ashes of her burning planet <3 She also killed Old King Cole >:)

shes a tragic lesbian and killed a violent dictator shes literally the best

shes gay shes traumatized she dates both rose red and sleeping beauty. badass space wanderer looking for her wife

Her wife Rose gets kidnapped on their wedding day and Cinders spend the next thirty years looking for her. She finds her (:D) and then Rose dies (D:) and then Cinders kills the guy who killed Rose (girlboss).

shes a lesbian. she lost her wife, Rose (yes, as in sleeping beauty) the day they got married bc she was kidnapped. she spent 20 YEARS looking for her. as soon as she found her wife, Rose DIED IN HER ARMS. Cinders has gone through Too Much to lose this poll

(Her info from the wiki) the Princess of a planet burnt by King Cole’s army, after it is ceded by her stepmother. She is imprisoned, meets Rose and plans to marry her. She is released by her godmother for the wedding, then flees when the attack happens, spending thirty years looking for Rose. Her half of the wedding ring will light up when she finds Rose.

“When I was a little girl, my mother always told me 'Someday your prince will come, my love’ But as I grew, I knew it was a princess who would hold me I looked to the stars for you, my love” She’s lesbian Cinderella IN SPACE. She fell in love with her wife in prison and they ran away to have a secret marriage but the empire kidnapped Rose on their wedding night and Cinders had to leave her behind. She searches for Rose for decades with the glass ring that guides her to its twin on her wife’s finger. She finally reunites with her love after Rose rips three supersoldiers to pieces with her bare hands (hot) but then then the evil king kills Rose so Cinders fucking punches through his heart. And then a clone of Rose (who is also lesbian Sleeping Beauty IN SPACE) finds her cradling her wife’s body and they have a happy reunion(?) and maybe they didn’t have a happy ending BUT WHAT IF THEY HAD EACH OTHER? HUH? AAAAAH

she’s everything. she’s a princess from a long since conquered planet. she was imprisoned to make a statement of the brutal reign of old king cole. she met her wife while she was in prison, a beautiful brutal soldier covered in scars from battles. cinders and rose fell in love, so cinders’ godmother in white broke her out of jail so rose and cinders could be together. they were going to be married, except that OLD KING COLE intervened and kidnapped rose to make her the genetic base of his unholy army. so cinders spends THIRTY YEARS searching the galaxies for her love (and sings a really cool song about it called “Cinders’ Song”) until finally she arrives during the final battle just in time to see old king cole SHOOT ROSE DEAD. so cinders punches the king so hard (with her wedding ring) that he just Crumples Into Dust. the end! (no we do not talk about the fiction.)

lesbian, for one, and for two i don’t really care i just think it’d be cool if she got in/if she made it past the first round

no one seems to have linked cinder’s song yet, so here [Link]

better yet, listen to the whole album too, for context and also what comes after. it slaps and also tragedy it’s such a good album suhc a good band too

Someone already sent the song as propaganda, so I will provide SPOILER propaganda. [Click link to see spoilers.]

[Link]

[sstormyskyess]

so glad i came across your blog. wondering if youu could write simon riley x f!reader where she was a former royal marines and he didn't know and found out after she got called back for a mission. maybe she's a captain?

thank you, love

-V

Glory Days

author's note: thank you for my first request!! i’m glad you found my blog and thought me worthy enough to request something for me 💜 i hope you enjoy!

cw: fluff, military reader, fem!reader, simon being anxious

word count: 1900+

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader "Finch"

♡ Being in the Royal Marines wasn’t necessarily something you were embarrassed about. It was more a matter of wanting to get a fresh start at being a regular civilian, far away from the battlefield. That’s why your previous enlistment never came up in conversation when you met Ghost and got to know each other better.

♡ When you and Ghost eventually entered a full relationship, he was surprised by how understanding you were about his occupation and the things that came with it. You were also very curious about his military activities, something that no other civilian in his life ever had been.

♡ It was about a couple years into your relationship when you got a letter from your previous commanding officer, requesting your services again since they thought your skills would be valuable for that specific mission.

♡ You were hesitant to accept, but eventually you did and you found yourself on your way to meet with your commanding officer and talk business. You didn’t know, though, that your very own boyfriend would be serving on the same mission.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Delta 2-1.” Captain Price says with a smile on his face. You smile in return and give him a firm handshake. “Please, call me Finch.” You correct him happily. “The pleasure is all mine. I’ve heard good things about you and your task force, Captain.” You put your arms behind your back with perfect poise, and give a nod toward the main building, walking off with Price in tow.

Simon stares from across the tarmac. His thoughts were racing, confused out of his mind. He almost had to remind himself to breathe, the amount of questions bouncing around in his head taking over all other thoughts, even his base instincts.

That’s why he almost imperceptibly jumps when a hand lands on his shoulder, tapping twice. He glances over to the person connected to said hand: Soap. “She’s one hell of a question mark, eh, L.T.?” He joins Simon in staring at the direction you and Price walked off to, shaking his head. “Heard she’s gonna be serving in place of Price. You know anything else about her?”

Well, he certainly did know about you. A lot of things about you. Why? Because you were his girlfriend, possibly soon to be fiancée. The only thing he didn’t seem to know about you was why exactly you were here, talking to his superior and ready to head out onto the same battlefield he’d been preparing to deploy into.

“No.” He answers simply. There was a reason Soap didn’t recognize her. He did his very best, and would do anything to keep his personal life and professional life separate; that’s why no one on the task force knew that he was romantically involved with anyone, save for Laswell. She knows absolutely everything, as much as it got on his nerves. At least she was good at keeping a secret. But now, here you were, present and apparently active in his work life. He sighs and looks over to Soap. “Tell the old man I’ll be in the weapons’ locker, if he asks.” He walks off and ignores whatever Soap was questioning him about.

♡ Ghost was shocked that he didn’t know about this particular part of your life, and he was even more shocked that you were actually considering going out on the field.

♡ It wasn’t that he doubted your abilities—quite the opposite, actually—but he was worried you’d get hurt. He was a powerful man but even he still managed to get hurt sometimes. So, knowing that you’d be at risk had him shaken up.

Simon lets out a heavy sigh. “Love, I need you to promise me you’ll be safe.” Simon has his hand on your shoulder, looking you up and down in the heavy tac vest you were adorned in. It was something he never imagined he’d see on you; it was pretty attractive, in all honesty, but he isn’t particularly focused on how attractive his lovely partner was.

He’s mostly concerned about the fact that you were about to be heading onto the field, assigned to a different team and dropped off in a location multiple klicks from where he would be. You shake your head and rest your hand on top of Simon’s. “I’ll be alright, Si. I promise.” You give him a comforting smile, taking his hand and holding it in yours. “This is nothing I haven’t done before.”

You look over Simon’s face, meeting his brown-hazel eyes and inspecting them: reading his thoughts. His eyes were so expressive, just as long as you knew what to look for. You could tell he was overly worried. You could also tell that he was fully prepared to blame himself if you got hurt out there. You swing his hand back and forth slightly, your own thoughts coming to the surface.

“You’ll be careful too, right?” You ask, your thumb running along the back of his knuckles. Simon sighs again and squeezes your hand in return. He was a calculated man but he was still susceptible to making decisions that would save his team, even if he would be putting himself in danger. Having you on the field with him was bound to make it worse.

But regardless, the last thing he wants is to distract you. Him getting himself into trouble was bound to draw your attention away from the mission. So, he nods and pulls his hand away, thinking for a moment. He wraps one of his arms around your waist then pulls the bottom of his mask up with the other.

Your eyes widen for a moment, taking a look out of the small alley between the buildings to make sure no one is watching. He takes your chin and rests his forehead on yours, kissing you gently. You lean into it, reaching up to his cheek to caress it. The two of you meet eyes once you pull away and stand there, gazing into each other's eyes for a few moments before Simon finally pulls away. “We’re wheels up soon. Let’s move.”

♡ He wasn’t expecting it, but experiencing the version of you in the heat of battle had him falling in love all over again. That commanding tone of voice and your proficiency with a weapon in hand, even after your years spent in retirement, were absolutely enrapturing to him.

♡ He wouldn’t have thought this of himself, but it seemed like watching you in your element made him realize that maybe he was attracted to that kind of power. You being his superior was only the icing on the cake.

“Delta Team, push up to the RV point!” You bark into the comms, the sound of grass and foliage cluttering your words. “Roger that, Finch. Move, move, move!” Simon honestly didn’t think he could fall in love with you even harder than he already has. Hearing you calling the shots over the comms was almost hypnotizing. He’d never heard your voice like that and it was a beautiful thing. He had to keep focus, though. He had his own team to direct.

Getting to the RV location was quite the hassle. Under a barrage of enemy fire—standard bullets, grenades, RPGs—keeping your team alive was a downright nightmare. But you managed it, the sight of Simon’s signature mask bringing you a slight bit of relief. “Ghost, sitrep, how long ‘til the charges blow?”

He doesn’t get the chance to respond before your eyes widen all of a sudden. “Look out!” You shout, shoving him to the side and toppling yourself down to the ground beside him. He grunts, looking at you confused before a sniper shot ricocheted off the ground right where he was previously standing.

“Snipers to the north, get down!” You call, taking Simon’s fallen rifle, getting into position to return fire, and quickly taking out the initial threat as though it was as easy as walking. If you weren't focused on calculating the best strategy out of this particular setback, you’d be able to see the stars in Simon’s eyes, his mind committing the sight of you expertly counter-sniping and potentially saving his life to memory. He didn't get much time to dwell on it any longer before he got dragged to his feet and rushed toward the nearest treeline.

♡ Once the operation was complete and you both got back to base with nothing but minor injuries, he finally had time to relax with you and reverse the roles, asking you an endless amount of questions about your time in active service, engrossed in the various stories you shared.

♡ Ghost listened carefully as you showed him the scars he had seen many times before and explained the story behind each one. He’d never asked before out of politeness but he got to appreciate them more fully now that he knew the details of each one.

A trail of goosebumps rises in the path of Simon’s fingers running along your spine. “I got that one a couple years into my service.” You recall, thinking about the scar he was tracing gently. His mind wanders as you talk, your voice soothing him through the imagery your story evoked.

“What about this one?” He rubbed his thumb over an old bullet wound on your side. You shift in your place on the tiny military-grade cot and sigh softly. “That was right before I retired. Sniper managed to hit between the plates.” His eyes widened at that, just a bit.

“And you managed to survive?” He chuckles softly when you nod. He leans down and pecks you on the cheek. “That’s my girl.” You blush, burying your face in the pillow beneath your head, making him laugh a bit again. He runs his hand through your hair, his fingers gentle. “So strong.” He squeezes the nape of your neck softly and feels the knots in your muscles, massaging them.

There was a peaceful silence between you two before Simon sighs. “What are you doing after all this?” You pick your head up just a bit, one brow raised. “What do you mean?” He pulls you close when you sit up to face him fully.

“Once this operation is over. Are you going to stay now that you’re back in?” He watches you process the question quietly. It was a good question. You didn’t really know what your plan was at this point. Leaving the service was a good choice on your part. You were happy just being a normal person, not constantly worrying about dying every time you left your bed.

But even so, being out on the field again was exhilarating. You didn’t imagine it would be a feeling you would miss, but now you were having second thoughts. Plus, it was wonderful being able to protect Simon yourself, knowing that as long as you were there, he was going to come back alive. You bite your lip in thought, before looking back up at him.

“I think I may stay. I’m not sure.” You run a hand up his shirt and over his back, your nails gently trailing against the scarred skin. He hums, his fingers starting to drum against your hip. “Don’t worry, Si. It’ll be okay. Promise. Plus, you need someone to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt.” You smile, kissing along his jaw and up his cheek. “I know, love, I know.” He smiles back, burying his face in your shoulder.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

[oz00ms2]

if you are still willing to answer asks from randos about your marine buggy au: i am so very curious how he and shanks went from “thought you abandoned me/thought you were dead” to “people mistake your hickeys for battle damage”

like. the moment of recognition ALONE. i can’t stop thinking about it. eyes meeting across a battlefield? a city street? a bar?? how’d it go?

its in my head that shanks caught wind of a young marine buggy winning some pirate v navy battle and seeing his face in the newspaper...

benn has to literally scruff shanks from just diving off into the ocean to swim to find his lost friend.

shanks damned and determined to get buggy back becomes a misunderstood story across both pirates and marines. the imfamous shanks spending the past years trying to recruit (kidnap) captain fire bug? how powerful is this marine that even shanks wants him??? it only causes a mess for bugs as more and more powerful pirates and marines trying to solve this mystery.

but id like to think after crossing paths a few times in battle buggy and he are on the same innocuous island and its like old times. fighting together - causing trouble - running from said trouble laughing like neither have in many, many years.

it sparks a long-dormant flame in buggy's heart and well...they're older now and.....shanks just got hot.

[jazztag]

An Encounter in the Snow V

Mentions of s*xual abuse. Discretion is advised.

Hero paces around his living quarters, nervously fidgeting with his freshly cleaned uniform as he always does when thinking. Suddenly, a cadet knocks at the door and steps inside with a nervous glance in his eyes. 

"The Colonel is here, sir," the cadet announces. Hero nods to the soldier and sighs profusely, exiting the room. 

"I’ll try not to lose my marbles this time," he mutters. The cadet smiles shyly and follows the Captain down the hall towards the main room.

"I’m telling you, Hero. Leave me alone in there with just two rounds, and I’ll end this game of yours," laughs the Colonel heartily, while Hero rolls his eyes for the fifth time. After meeting with the older man, his boss wanted to see his latest gadget acquired. Even though the Captain doesn’t want or need to comply with a rich, arrogant, and joke of a soldier, he decides to comply with what the Colonel wants, only because he wants to end the meeting right after. He plans on excusing himself after the visit to the cells. Maybe the old man gets satisfied enough with the Resistance's latest successful catch, and he gets out of his face for a while.

Accompanied by five of his best soldiers, Hero walks down the path towards the cellblock, followed closely by the Colonel, who is wearing all of his medals and insignias, none of which were actually gained during battle. A big joke. To the Captain, this man is a total clown. He probably has never put his own ass on the battlefield, and yet, here he is, mansplaining war to him.

Weapon looks up momentarily from the ground to see the cohort enter his cell. He sees the new face of the Colonel. Annoyed, the prisoner looks at Hero, who looks even more defeated than he is. The old man approaches Weapon without caution, not even listening to Hero’s warnings. 

“Sir, you should not get near him. This morning he already bit me once,” Hero tries, but the Colonel is already lost in one of his rambles. 

“These… damn things,” the older man spits. “Useful weapons, aren’t they? Never seen one so close before.”

Hero walks until he's preventively side by side with the Colonel, watching Weapon closely and looking him in the eye, as if warning him not to do anything. Weapon is grinning silently as always, but he looks curious and alert to the whole thing.

"I don’t get why they’re considered illegal in the Resistance. I would have an entire squad of these things under my orders!" Hero crosses his arms, annoyed. 

"They are considered a human trafficking matter. Inmoral, sir," says the Captain with disdain. But the Colonel just rests importance on the topic at hand. 

"Whatever. They’re already considered weapons by the time they are unleashed on the battlefield, right?"

Hero is at a loss for words. He looks at Weapon again, who is fidgeting with his hands absentmindedly, seated cross-legged on the floor as usual. 

"Also, do you know what their Captains do with them after complying, Hero?" asks the Colonel, laughing. Hero looks up at the old man, who has a strange smirk plastered across his face. The Colonel then grabs at Weapon’s chin, making the prisoner open his mouth slightly towards the ceiling.

Hero is totally at a loss for words when he sees the stupid man grab his prisoner without warning. Weapon is even so surprised as well, he seems to relax at the other's sudden touch. 

"Look at it, Hero. He knows already what to do. The disgusting fagg-"

Suddenly, there’s a quick movement from the corner of Hero’s sight. Turning again towards his prisoner, the Captain sees how Weapon sticks out a metal tool from the Colonel’s leg, and how the devilish smile grows larger on his face. The older man falls to the ground screaming nonsense and grabbing at his wound, which bleeds profusely. A couple of soldiers run towards the Colonel and get him away from Weapon’s reach. Hero snatches the tweezers from his prisoner’s hand and recognizes the metal tool from the first-aid kit, the one left in the corner of the room, not too far. Weapon looks up at him, still seated on all fours on the floor and looking unapologetically at the red stains on the concrete.

"Ok," speaks up Hero, walking away from Weapon as well and towards the Colonel, who is still shouting insults and whatnot to anything in particular, "get the man out of here." 

Looking one last time at Weapon, he retrieves the first-aid kit from the room, as well as the empty water bowl from the floor, leaving the cell right after the other soldiers with some sort of mixed feelings.

Taglist: @whump-blog @bitchaknso @pumpkinsncoffee @scrumpledumple (comment to get added/removed from the list!)

[comfortless]

okay so. König in love or any thoughts rlly i need to crawl into your brain and live there. ;v; you have made me love him 10x more

i can’t decide on whether or not he would be very passive or very aggressive when in the pursuit of someone (let’s be honest with ourselves: there is no inbetween)!

in situations where you’re perhaps working together, it must kick in some sort of urgency. you’re toying with your gun, missing cues, a bit too flighty… as if it isn’t life or death here. his approach is certainly more aggressive, then: you have to be kept safe and away from all of the horrible filth in the world. a battlefield is no place for a princess, and the thought of you getting hurt or worse before you’re able to have a bunch of cute kids or live out on that vast expanse of land with the cozy cabin he’s promised you is horrifying for him.

you don’t get much of an option here. he isn’t retiring his weapons any time soon, but you must. he’s losing sleep, lashing out at any other operator who comes a hair too close. he’s heard rumors of women who sleep around the barracks and those men ogling you must have those things in mind for you. he wouldn’t allow that. he’s seen men come back from torture and he won’t allow that, either. a proposal is rushed, but it’s sincere. he’ll take you on all the nice dates you didn’t get to share prior when he’s on leave. just stay home, send him letters, call him often, and you’ll get the world and then some.

König is only passive when he’s out of his element. meeting an angel on earth in some rundown shop where he’s unprepared and feeling utterly naked without a knife or a big gun on his person is harrowing. he thinks back on those times from high school: the faked confessions, his first kiss only stolen away out of pity rather than love. he has no fucking idea how to approach a woman that he will likely never see again. so, he just doesn’t.

the beast at the corner of the shop flicking through packages of subpar snacks only offers a few subtle glances your way, silently praying you don’t detect the way he openly stares when your back is turned. he follows at a distance, innocuously pretending he’s also interested in the flour down the baking aisle you’re on. he can bake, sure, would happily spend hours in his lonely kitchen preparing you strudel or something more to your liking if you asked, but what’s the point of doing any of that for himself?

if, for some reason he can’t quite comprehend, you decide to approach him… batting your eyelashes and pointing up at something on the top shelf, requesting his assistance, he might try to shove back the thought that you’re only being kind because you need something. he’ll make small talk while passing you the package of semisweet chocolate chips, huff something akin to a laugh when you make a quip about how quiet this store is when it’s your favorite. the flirtations come naturally for you, saying that you wished he could give you an inch or two (as to not heckle anyone taller for help in the future), and damn his loose tongue because he’s quick to respond then. telling you he could give you nine, actually.

silly relationship thoughts…?

he definitely falls into the realm of men that send you the most cringy “couple goals” videos. you know the ones that are like “five reasons your man is not cheating!” followed by a slideshow of a home cooked meal, a soft looking bed, a photo of a couple holding hands and all giddy smiles, a nice clean home, then… a picture of a woman in some cute lacy lingerie. has the worst grin on his face when your expression sours, but he promises to scour the internet until he finds something lovely and strappy for you to wear for him.

sleepy König is a menace!! he snores. loudly. sometimes talks absolute nonsense. it’s impossible to push him away because he’s so big and it’s all dead weight when he’s knocked out. if you’re trying to wriggle out of bed because the birds are chirping outside and the sunlight is peeking at you through the curtains, his grip around you only tightens. he likes to hold your hand while you’re sleeping, too. even when his get a bit clammy. it’s cute until you desperately long for a shower and he still won’t wake up.

his significant other is the perfect comfort to him. even when things are bad: an argument or an entire ocean between you two. your voice whether infuriated or in love, the smell of your perfume or even your sweat, the feeling of your soft skin or the bite of your teeth, your taste whether from your mouth or skin, the view of you’re messy bedhead or dressed to utter perfection. all of you is a comfort. he isn’t just a lover, he’s a horribly obsessed devotee in every way. logs in some mental list what perfume you wear on what day, how you choose to dress depending on what you’re doing, mundane things like how you wring your hands after washing them or just how you position yourself when standing or sitting. every detail has its importance, and he wants to memorize everything about you for those long nights when he’s deployed and you can’t be there with him.

he knows what a meme is, yes, he isn’t that old, but his sense of humor more aligns with whatever is dark or perverse and historical jokes (those “me if i were in medieval Europe” videos might make him grin). if you’re sent one and it goes over your head, he’s happy to explain to you the time period, what role you and he might play in such a scenario, all in so much detail you wonder if he’s actually some sort of genius. only… he would casually tell you he wouldn’t mind going down on you even if you were some maiden from a time long past that hadn’t bathed in weeks.

probably likes to mark you up a bit when he knows he’ll be away for a while. bite marks on your inner thighs, a necklace of hickies on your neck and along your clavicle. it’s embarrassing, trying to explain why you’re wearing a scarf or a thick choker in the middle of the warmer months. he doesn’t do it out of fear that you’ll run off to another (though, maybe that is part of it), but ultimately so you won’t forget. not about the way he made you feel, about the little whines that left your mouth or the way you gripped at his hair, who you belong to just as much as he belongs to you.

[velvet-paradox]

Balance

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Sebastian Krueger x Female reader Summary: your fuck buddy takes you in the shower. Length: Medium Tagging: @synnersaint @shyjellyfish26 @kosmokenny @butterscotch-babie @cesneo @deaddainish @allkot @jacket-slut99 @hers-area @1-fuzzy-squirrels @hailmesuckers @ella-bella-ella @spookylilbay @t6ylors @salamanderstuff @hh-spnxx @akii1833 @malyshka-3 @etoilebleue @gremlingottoosilly @talktothemoon2 Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, strong language, explicit content, established relationship, voyeurisms (ya'll are fucking in a shower so that counts), unprotected p in v, swallowing, cum eating, detailed smut.

ENJOY!!!

He wasn't a creepy by any means, he was more observant; a fly on the wall, curious in nature. Intrusive thoughts lead to intrusive visions and the more he sat and dwelled on them the more obsessed he'd become. These feelings were not on his radar. There was no expectation, no limits, no planned process. Fly by the seat of his pants, devil may care, play things but ear but then he happened to meet you. And all that flew right out the fucking window.

Uh oh.

This was new, very new territory for the man. He'd been requested, specifically by a man named captain John Price of the 141. He'd be on retainer, handsomely paid, taken care of with the highest respect. With the sum he'd been offered who was he to turn it down? A little stint, all expenses paid as well, was a dream. As he thought of where he'd vacation after you had stepped into the frame. Shattered what resolve he'd had, the walls he'd neatly laid by hand, trauma after trauma.

You touched your ear, earrings dangling in the light and handed Price a neat stack of color coded folders one early afternoon. You looked at him. Sebastian thought you'd be nervous, skittish, afraid even by his head to toe covering, sitting widely at the back of the briefing room, taking up as much space as he needed. But you didn't. He'd later found out why.

He'd heard the name König once or twice in passing, a monster, a thief in the night, the boogeyman. If you weren't scared of König then there's no way you'd be scared of him. And you weren't. You were sweet on him just as he was to you. If he wasn't careful you'd give him a toothache.

It started with casual pleasantries.

Good morning, Krueger.

Gut Morgen my dear.

Two sugars, right?

No pickles.

You fell asleep once with your head against his bicep, exhausted, wiped out. Your head was so small in comparison to his arm, he could crush you like a bug. He'd done so with enemies of the past. He just looked down at you with a smile behind his head covering, blushing a little as you shifted deeper into his side.

You were never in field. Kept safe on base or at the rendezvous point. Out of sight, out of harm and yet even though you were never with him on the battlefield, you were on his mind. Maybe you felt it. Some telekinesis going on but as he laid low, out of harms way on a rooftop in the scorching Sahara, his comms crackled to life.

"Come in Krueger, what's your location?"

"Rooftop. Ten clicks south of the point, target inbound."

"Good. Ghost and Sergeant soap are on their way, wait for my go ahead before clearing the building."

"Roger that."

"Hey Sebastian?"

The sound of his birth name, coming from your mouth made him suddenly hyper aware and stiff. You only ever called him Krueger and it was in that very moment, that dusty hot second that he realized you'd canceled everyone else out, this was a one on one channel.

Alone.

"Ja?"

"You get this job done and make it back to base in one piece," your voice paused and returned momentarily with a smile he could only imagine. "I'll let you buy me dinner."

He'd never gotten a job done quicker than that. No wasted ammo, no casualties. His black heart was full and pumping when he boarded the helo, shoving their prisoner to the wall, seatbelt maybe a little too tight but for good reason, keep him for safe travel and questioning. He had a pep in his step and a grin on his face the whole time.

No one suspected a thing.

You were too cool, too aloof and breezy to let anything unsavory exist. He wondered how did it. How you could be so vulnerable, docile and submissive behind closed doors but be this calm outside of them. Balance, he supposed.

He watched you chat with Gaz, laughing at one of his many told jokes, one he'd heard a handful of times since joining the company. He could only muse how many times you must've heard it.

Kreuger leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed, listening but not paying any attention oh no. His sole attention was on you. How you smiled, the way you gently touched his Kyle's shoulder, the way your eyes glinted in the awful florescent lighting. The curve of your mouth, the tilt of your hip. The way your face changed when you caught him watching you.

You were trouble.

A brat.

The way you just so happen to let slip that you'd been needing a long hot shower after this exhausting week let him know your next move. Which meant Sebastian knew his.

It wasn't too long after departure did he venture out of his temporary quarters. A plain grey dresser and matching desk, walk in closet that was mostly bare save for a few key items and his toiletries, a decent king sized bed that he'd fucked you on all four corners of. The first of many late nights and bj's were had on those crisp sheets.

He waited until the rookies had their lights out checks before he slipped out of his room, a heavy towel around his bare shoulders, his tattoos and scars on display as he made his way down to the showers. Luckily the staff had their own private showers, no sharing or horseplay in there. There were at least stalls and cubicles for safety and privacy. Perfect. Krueger made sure the coast was clear before slipping into the room. The sound of a powerful shower head filled the space, warm steam and the scent of your body wash cloaked him in perverse glee. He double locked the door, holding onto the ends of his towel around his shoulders, Sebastian strutted through the locker room. He could hear you humming, coming around one of the corners he caught you with your face dripping with water, the palms of your hands at your eyes.

"Well what have we here?"

His thick accent made you jump and cover your not so private parts. You twisted and turned you're body to shield yourself.

"Krueger! You scared me you little perv, you're not supposed to be in here."

He laughed at your display, still soapy and slick. "I am not Krueger when we are alone, remember? Or… does my little toy need some reminding?"

"Sebastian!"

"What?"

"You can't… what if someone else is in here?"

"There isn't."

"How do you know?"

"Hallo!!??" He shouted, cupping around his mouth, he smiled in silence. "See? It's just you, me and the terrible water pressure."

You scoffed at that.

"Well… are you going to finish cleaning up or what?"

"With you watching?"

"Ja. Why not?"

"I feel like a goldfish." You admitted, still keeping some of your dignity which Krueger thought was cute.

"My dear, I have seen you much more compromising positions than simply bathing."

"That's not the point." You stuttered and looked down at your toes. "Should I perhaps join you then, schatzi? Would that be better?"

The water from your lashes streaked down your cheeks when you smiled and held out your soapy loofah. "Much."

….

He'd said it plenty of times before; you never looked better but each time it was a lie for the next time he got you alone. The suds of soap on your already soft and wet skin glistened in the low light, dripping down your arms, your legs, how the soap clung to your collarbones.

Beautiful.

Krueger removed his face covering, his belly flipped when you eyes him up and down as he stepped out of his sweats, kicking them aside along with his towel. Your traveling eyes only furthered his confidence as he came into your shower cubicle.

His wingspan was enough to block you in the tight quarters, the water rushed over your curves as you backed up, letting him into the space. His mind played tricks and thought intrusively that he could bust down these bricks like cardboard at the look you were giving him just then.

"Is this better, mein schatz?"

"Come closer." You breathed and moved around the shower, keeping your eyes locked on his as it was his turn to stand underneath the water. It splashed and dribbled down his body, his muscles warming in its delicate embrace.

Your hands looked so small whenever you touched him, going over his abdomen with the soapy loofah. He didn't mind that he'd be smelling like mango and shea. He found it pleasing, reminded him of you and suddenly the thought of having to buy a bottle of the stuff to occupy his toiletries once he left this place made him a little somber.

He didn't want to leave you.

The big killing man had a soft spot for you.

Sure, the others gave him shit for following you around like you had some invisible leash around his neck, he'd break fingers and backs of any of your enemies if given the lucky chance. He did so with ease because he was the one to warm your bed, make you laugh and hold you close.

Better to just fuck it out, his feelings could sort themselves down as they circled down the drain.

Your begging made him harder, you both knew his cock fit but to hear you beg for it, plead for him to give it to you made him feral. He grabbed your hip hard and placed your foot on the soap dish partition as he leaned forward, teasing you both as he tapped the head of his cock against your clit, slipping the shaft between your folds. He didn't press in right away, making you arch and pull him closer with a hand on the nape of his neck.

"Make it fit, Sebastian. Make it fit. Stretch me out." You whined, watching him rock his cock up against your folds, coating him with your arousal.

"That's what you want, hmm? Are you worried it won't?" Krueger teased, smiling at your focused face.

"I just…I just want it in me," you batted your lashes then, inching your pussy forward, begging for a little more friction, something only his cock could seem to reach. "I need you."

"Ah, and not just five minutes ago you were shooing me out of here, no? Now look at you, looking to get fucked in the showers by a visiting war criminal."

"Are you trying to turn me on even more?" Your giggle melted into a satisfied moan when he stuffed himself inside you. Thick, rock hard pulsing muscle sinking in deeper. You rested your head on his shoulder the closer he got.

"Oh fuck. That's it."

"This what you wanted, my dear? How quickly you fold for me, ja? How quickly your resolve leaves your body once you are full of me."

Krueger taunted, circling his hips as he held your ankle on the soap dish. His other hand came up to cup your breast as he really started to move and fuck you.

It was so hot and dirty, soap slick skin, sloppy wet kisses caught in between. You licked inside his mouth, your nails scratching down his back. You matched his enthusiasm, moving in unison.

Krueger planted his feet along the slick floor, grunting your name, panting out little phrases.

"Good girl."

"Keep it coming, baby. That's it."

"Good job baby, good job taking it all in."

"Ohhh you are really trying to milk my cock, hmmm? Go on then, squeeze me, squeeze it all out."

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, keening and begging for more. The grey cloud of leaving you, this moment, this kind of sex crept around his shoulders. He hated it, shaking his head, wetting his face under the water.

"It's so good. You're so good," you cooed, petting his face and staring blissfully into his eyes. "So so good to me."

Krueger would be lying if your admittance didn't steal his breath. How you looked, in general and the way you looked at him like he was everything. Some precious jewel, a forbidden item. He licked his lips and kissed you hard, holding you somehow closer as his cock brushed up deep, nudging a spot inside your cunt that drove you wild. You bit his tongue.

"Oh shit, do that again! Fuck that's good."

"Ja, you like that? Like how I fit so perfectly in your perfect little cunt," Sebastian chuckled as you nodded frantically. "Wish I could take you with me. Keep you like trinket. Fuck, clench around me."

"I am." You moaned.

Sebastian paused, lifting your chin from his shoulder, cupping your cheek. He blinked rapidly.

"I put in a transfer."

"What? Why?"

"Why not? I'm not even from here!"

He gave you sideways look, brows coming together, broken pieces of him were being molded together, weaved together with whatever witchcraft you had. He would never get enough.

"Fuck yes." Krueger kissed you again, sweeter than the last but there was more feeling behind it. "You're mine. All mine now."

Your sobs for more boosted his already incredibly high ego, making him fuck you faster, made him feral with desire as he pinched your nipples, bit the side of your neck, groaned almost pathetically into your ear, licked the shell of it. He called you every beautiful word he knew, huffing when you sang his name.

"Fuck I'm… it's coming, I'm coming, Make me cum, please! I need it, I need it so badly. I'm gonna' cum so fucking hard, don't stop don't stop don't--"

"Atta' girl, there's my girl, Moan it out baby, let me hear it. Let me know how good you feel right now." Krueger sighed when you responded in kind, whining and throbbing your release around him. He wasn't going to last much longer either, everything felt so decadent and warm and safe.

Sebastian pulled out, fucking his fist instead but lost his balance as you suddenly dropped down to your knees, your hot mouth on his cock, tasting yourself along with his pre-cum made him groan. His breath hiccupped the deeper you took him down your throat.

"Fuck… that's it baby, good God you're so good at taking cock. Doesn't matter which hole. Swallow it down, that's it. Be a good girl, fuck… swallow it all down. It's coming baby, get that pretty mouth ready for me. I can't---I'm coming. Here it comes baby."

You looked like a goddess down there, swallowing his load, gulping it down. You barely showed him your empty mouth before he hauled your ass back up to your feet, crushing you into a sudsy embrace. He kissed you again, tasting everything.

"You are everything to me." He confessed.

"That's why I'm coming with you. Where you go, I go."

He'd figure something out, he thought as the water began to chill. Mixing business with pleasure was always a toss up, could make for a shaky foundation but that's the thing with balance.

[insult-2-injury]

Debts Repaid

Dan Heng x F!Reader

When a stubborn Dan Heng is injured in battle, you insist upon healing him. He's never liked debts, but being beholden to you wouldn't be the worst thing, he thinks. Not when there are so many ways to balance the scales.

AO3 Link, 4k, fingering, cock warming, dirty talk, p in v, light pain kink

~~~~~~~~

“You’re hurt.”

“Nothing to worry about.”

“I knew it!”

“Move aside, please.”

Despite the inherent lack of sincerity in his ‘please’, you allow Dan Heng to finally slip past your wide-armed defensive stance and into the safety of his bedroom. 

“I knew it,” you repeat, following him inside without much forethought. “I knew you’d been hurt the second you vanished after that fight. You act all humble and weird when you’re in pain. Let me see it.”

The tight-laced man, forever stoic, sighs and your existence seems to be well… nonexistent as he goes about his business as if you aren’t trailing him like a fly buzzing over his shoulder. Nothing new, really. The duality of Dan Heng is that regardless of his short, but not infrequent check-in texts when the two of you are separated, he avoids you on the Express like you’ve got some disease he’s reluctant to contract.

It’s just that you’re a healer. Your job in and out of combat is solely to make sure everyone stays alive and well, and if you can minimize unnecessary discomforts, well, it’s in your nature to do so. There’s just one person who complicates things. But Dan Heng and you have always had each other’s backs on the battlefield, so it should stand to reason that you should have each other’s backs in the more civil, quiet corners of the cosmos as well. 

“Come on, let me help. Then I’ll leave, I promise.” 

His eyes narrow over his shoulder. “I hear March calling for you.”

“Filthy liar. Where did you hurt yourself?”

“There she is again.”

You glower at the back of his head. “Oh, you’re a comedian, too, huh.”

“Something like that,” he says, forever impassive as he puts his things away with a well-hidden stiffness that belies the pain you can sense he truly feels.

“Fine, you want to go old-fashioned? Be that way.” When he predictably fails to provide the location of a first aid kit, you take it upon yourself to rummage through his lower cupboards.

He’s terrible at tolerating help, like he’s been hard-trained into an accepting solitude. And when he denies you, it’s automatic, a spring release that holds the cold weight of indifference. But you’ve seen him throw himself into the fray when your wellbeing is at stake. 

Dan Heng cares in his own ways.

Your fingers find the handle of a first aid kit.

“A-ha.”

“I said it was nothing to worry about,” a frigid voice says and you nearly leap out of your skin at how quickly he’s moved to stand behind you, the top of your head banging against a cabinet shelf hard as you swing to meet his downward gaze.

“It’s not nothing,” you grit out, rubbing the top of your scalp. “I saw you trying to hold your shit together, saw you make a break for the hallway the moment we got back. You’re stupidly stubborn, you know that? Stop saying it’s nothing.”

A strange bout of nerves creeps in as you scowl up at his towering form from where you kneel – the signature, flat, unamused slant of his lips, the glacial gray of his eyes not leaving yours.

His gaze narrows almost accusingly and, with an aching slowness, the tips of his fingers extend to graze the crown of your head. Not patting in condescension, not running through the strands there as you might have liked, just resting there at first, warming the top of your head. Until he draws those fingers together, clutches a small handful before releasing, measuring your reaction as he roots around the depths of your wide-eyed, questioning stare; seems to come to some conclusion before he backs away silently. 

Your jaw opens and shuts as your response speaks for itself, staying put for far too long to appear unphased, that same jittery feeling in the pit of your stomach as after a warp; except this time tainted with a sickening need to crawl beneath the spotlight of his gaze again. Perhaps nuzzle further into that strange contact. Never before has he touched you willingly; never without pulling away like it scalds.

With enough space to draw breath now, you leap to your feet, albeit on weaker legs. “So?”

“So what?” he says as if nothing has transpired, wincing as his clothes move against whatever wound is on his chest.

“Where is it, then?” You tip your chin up, determined now. “Your injury.”

He doesn’t reply, observing you, gaze steel and unflinching as he puzzles you out.

“I’m serious, Dan Heng, it’s why I’m on the Express in the first place. Unless you don’t trust my elemental process, which is totally fair. We can go another route, then, or I can go grab someone else. I just can’t in good conscience leave you here without at least knowing what shape you’re in.”

You trust him implicitly. Does it go both ways? Regardless, gone are the days you watch with an ache in your chest as he limps back to the Express with a tight-lipped grimace to tend to his own wounds. The crew says it’s fruitless, that he’s like an oyster snapping shut the moment you so much as look in its direction. Cold, dark, and mysterious, he might be. Impenetrable, he is not.

There are few things in life as hard as cracking through the exterior of the man standing before you, and few things that would be more satisfying. Dan Heng, you think, is an oyster worth cracking. And sometimes to crack the shell of a particularly tough one, you can’t ask permission.

“Your elemental process is sound, and you’ve never, to my knowledge, produced less than desirable results. You are highly capable,” he responds flatly after a time. “But I don’t care to be in the debt of others.”

“Enough of that talk. You won’t be in my debt.” You wave off his foolishness, feeling your cheeks heat, throat tighten a little at the compliment, however oddly phrased. “Do we need to draft up a legal document, something that will hold up in court? Or maybe Welt can tally up our debts, lord knows he’s looking for something to do.”

It is a victory when a tiny, amused huff punches from between his lips. “No,” he says after what feels like minutes, “no, that won’t be necessary.”

“Good. Besides, I don’t think Welt would approve of what we’re doing anyway,” you say before you realize how it sounds. Something flickers behind Dan Heng’s eyes. “I just mean talking silly debts.”

He nods, gives an acknowledging hum before turning away from you, allowing your heart to start beating again. “I suspect Welt would be too busy delighting in our collaboration to find much issue with talk of misplaced obligations.”

Dan Heng shrugs out of his jacket, movements stiff and jerky.

“I mean,” you blurt lamely, “if anything, I’d be in your debt. You’ve rescued my ass countless times.”

“Nonsense.”

You haven’t thought this far ahead, haven’t anticipated the inevitable intimacy of the situation. And it’s almost scandalous the way his black long sleeve shirt clings to his lean, athletic form – you should be feeling sorry for him, not eyeballing him like some degenerate. 

Dan Heng tosses his coat carelessly over the back of his desk chair. “Debt can be easily mistaken for ownership.” You’re quickly losing your nerve, fire blazing across your skin as his fingers find the hem of his shirt. You turn away quickly.

He continues. “It has a tendency to… complicate things.” He clearly has no reservations about modesty – you can hear the struggle as he draws his shirt up over his abdomen, unsticking it with an agonized groan from the unseen injury you can only assume is on his chest. “I don’t intend to own you, although it wouldn’t be the worst thing. But maybe you’re right, it’s best if we mutually agree to balance the scales.”

The air is thin, suffocating, and you have no capacity to process his words, suddenly, their meaning much too big to untangle.

Your thoughts spin in a hopeless broken circuit; shit. What are your intentions here? Hadn’t they been purely to help? Oh, you’d be kidding yourself if you said you weren’t endlessly intrigued by Dan Heng but this… were you eager to settle a debt just as much as him?

The pad of approaching footsteps has you spinning on your heel.

Dan Heng, shirtless, clad in nothing but his black trousers now, the lean muscles of his hard chest on full display. He takes in your clear, doe-eyed trepidation with nothing but a sharp calculation.

But the weeping crimson across his left breast shatters the hyperawareness of his proximity. You gasp at the three ragged, parallel claw marks, each about the length of a forefinger.

“I’ll be fine, my body heals quicker than most.”

“Doesn’t matter if this gets infected,” you exclaim. “You’re so frustrating. I’m going to heal you and then I swear I’ll pummel you right over again.”

He hums.

“You should’ve come to me,” you scold, too absorbed in concern to consider how close you are to him. “How were you even going to fix it at this angle, huh? Sort of just look in the mirror and hope for the best? You can’t do this again, Dan Heng.”

You don’t wait for a smart remark, pointing to the space where his bed meets the cherry paneled wall. “Go sit, I’ll grab a washcloth. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

At least he follows your instructions, albeit with an inclement downturn of his lips as you aid in propping him against the wall, grabbing a pillow for his head. He seems inherently uncomfortable with the fussing but says nothing of it, and you care little as you settle in beside him. The wound leaks, not a terribly worrisome amount, but enough that there’s an urgency to your actions as you dab around the claw marks.

“I’m so mad you,” you say after a time, trying to distract yourself from the way his eyes haven’t left your face since you started. “For not taking better care of yourself. I get worried when you disappear like that, you know. I don’t even want to ask how many times you’ve handled all this by yourself.”

“It’s easier that way.”

“To be alone?” Your eyes meet his and the intensity of his stare has you swiping the cloth a little too close. A groan of pain catches in his throat.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to–”

You trail off. His face is contorted beautifully, like he’s lost in some kind of strange daze as his eyebrows furrow, like he’s concentrating on the feeling. You sit back on your heels with a tumultuous sigh. “I need to disinfect. It’s gone untreated long enough that I don’t want to take chances.”

His eyes slit open, roll over to yours with a sardonic tilt to his brow that says haven’t we already agreed to this

“It’s just… it’s going to sting. A lot. Obviously. But the rest is comparatively painless.”

You bite at the inside of your cheek and his eyes fall to the nervous tic, his pink tongue flitting out to lick at his bottom lip. With a nod, his hand slides to rest innocuously atop your knee as he settles back against the wall.

“I trust you.”

A lump climbs into your throat at the unexpected honesty of his words. It’s not only the bleeding heat of his palm that has you dizzy, it’s the weighted significance of what he’s just allowed to slip into the light. A trust you’d rather die than break.

You nod back, watch the rise and fall of his chest to steady your own. What would the rest of the crew think if they knew where you sat, thigh pressed hotly against Dan Heng’s? Your heart pulses in rhythm to whatever strange tension is bridled amidst the growing silence, his hand resting upon your knee like a comfortable promise.

Okay.”

Tentatively, you swipe across the first lesion. He goes rigid and the strangled groan that comes out of him doesn’t sound entirely like one of pain, you think, the noise reverberating up your spine and worming its way into the back of your brain. 

You pause, allowing you both a breath, your palm sliding down his bicep and squeezing comfortingly, yet in the same instant, Dan Heng anchors his nails into your thigh. Hard.

You wait for him to unlatch from you, something anxious and excitable rising from the pit of your stomach. But he doesn’t release, his fingers scalding against the bare skin where your skirt has ridden up.

Whatever rationality you have left, you call upon it, legs squeezing together to assuage the flash of startling heat between them when his thumb swipes back and forth, like he’s the one comforting you. “Almost done,” you say, throat humiliatingly dry.

Not daring to meet the icy vortex of his gaze, you wet another cloth and clean him with quaking hands, pressing hard to remove the grit that has crusted around the wound. He jerks again, the lean muscles of his legs tensing against the sides of yours as his hips almost roll with the movement.

The silence is punctuated by your name, rasped out with an almost reverence, the tendons in his neck flexing as his head falls back against the wood. You stiffen in disbelief, and his hand goes back to kneading into the soft of your flesh. 

“Do you need a… um. Do you need a break?” you breathe.

“No, keep going.”

The aching pulse between your legs acts as gravity, his palm drawing a little further up your leg, lethally close to breaching the point of no return. You balance on that tightrope, a single glance revealing fully the effect you’ve had, as well, his arousal pushing intently against the confines of his trousers.

Not trusting yourself to speak, you finish cleaning the wound, something shockingly perverse relishing in a small way the audible clench of his jaw, nails digging half moons into your flesh as he rides out the sensations. You shudder at the twitch of his hand, like he’s restraining himself from providing some sort of relief to the insistent need between his legs.

“Well,” you swallow, “all that’s left now is the easy part.”

Your eyes lift to his and a dangerous change ripples through him at whatever he finds there. Deliberately slow, as if not to spook you, he wriggles a palm between your thighs, prying them gently apart for better access, tracing delicately along your trembling skin.

“You c-can’t.”

“I can.” He slides to cup you between the legs.

The sudden, bleeding heat of the pressure of his entire palm cuts off your protest in an exhilarating rush. Your head lolls forward. Placating fingers move to drag across the flimsy cloth barrier between him and your cunt, pressing accusingly into the space you’re most wet for him with a satisfied hum.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks softly.

“I just need to finish up h-healing, then we can–” Your tongue is too heavy to speak as he brushes lazy figure eights across the crotch of your panties, probing with a perfect pressure, solid yet tender, but not only for your benefit. He’s drawing pleasure from this, too, gaze mapping across your features like he can memorize every delectable crease at the corner of your eyes, every tiny flare of your nostrils as you utter vacuous objections.

“You are.” He nods grimly. “You said I should have come to you sooner. I wish I would have.”

“Just let me finish–” Fingers slide beneath sodden fabric to dip two fingers inside you with humiliating ease, a depraved squelch the only sound of your resistance shattering as your hips lurch to chase his touch. 

“It’s a shame that I kept my infatuations with you in the dark for so long. I could’ve had you some time ago. Don’t be mad at me,” he insists and a torn whine releases from your throat. “Consider this recompense for the lost time.”

The position is slightly awkward and his pumps are shallow in turn, but you concede to shamelessly grinding against his palm. You think you should feel some terrible guilt in the way you’re being driven by baser impulses, even while his wounds still call to be tended to. But the concern lies deep beneath the high of watching the enraptured look on his face at your display.  

Gently, he slithers his grasp beneath your thigh in order to lever your position up and over one of his legs. 

“That better?” he asks, fingers finding a more comfortable home again between your legs, rolling in a perfect rhythm across your clit.

You nod mechanically.

“Good,” he hums low, “that's good.” 

The subtle flush of his pale cheeks and his own labored breath as he gets off on the pleasure he’s giving you sends an exhilarating thrill down your spine, expanding until you’re drenching his fingers with a long, final whine.

“There you go.”

When your spasms dissolve into delicate flutters, Dan Heng drags his fingers from you. Mindlessly, you kick off your panties completely.

“I thought we weren’t talking debt anymore,” you catch your breath, heart slamming against your ribcage still. 

“Consider us even.” He inhales deeply, letting out a long, cleansing sigh. 

“I don’t think we’re even. Does that mean you own me?” Your eyes rise purposefully to meet his and there’s a long silence before he speaks, voice lower.

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Debt is a scapegoat, you know, for the formidable pull between you. Deliberately unbalance the scales here and you’ll be inclined to return to each other for more. Not that you wouldn’t have anyway, but you realize this moment gives an excuse to provide an answer to the overarching question between you of what this was, what this could be. And you know you want more. It doesn’t stop at cracking his shell. You want Dan Heng.

“I need to heal you now,” you say and he just blinks at you. “Can you hold still?”

He searches your features before his head dips in a slow nod.

You reach down to pop open the top button of his pants, rewarded by the shaky sigh that fans across your face as he fully comprehends. You’re grateful he’d saved you the trouble earlier of removing his intimidating top layers. He doesn’t protest, settling back to watch with a hawklike precision.

You guide him out tenderly, his cock springing back against his belly, precum drooling, smearing across his skin. Aside from the gentle whirring of his database behind, the only sound is Dan Heng’s appreciative groan as you pump him twice, caging his legs between yours as you delight in the heated weight of him in your palm. 

The still glistening fingers he’d used to pleasure you with he slides across the tip of himself in small circles, wiping you off there, gifting you the sight of him mixing you in with his own beading arousal.

One hand wrapping his base, the other bracing on the wall beside his head, you raise your hips to position him at the soaking wet heat of your entrance. Palms seize hold of your waist.

“I’m warning you now, if this is what you want…” he grates, tone taking on a darker edge. “I won’t spare you my compulsions any longer. I’ve wanted you too long to be satisfied with having you just the once.” 

You smile at the admission, answer clear as your drenched folds envelop him with undue ease, the stretch exquisite as you bear down on him slowly, the both of you unable to do much more than share a shallow gasp. Dan Heng’s abdomen pulls deliciously taut as he’s taken inch by inch.

Your lips part, eyes flutter shut. There’s no going back, you agree. Not now that you’ve felt the needy throb of him inside you. “You’re going to have to hold still,” you repeat.

He pinches the hem of your shirt between thumb and forefinger. “Take this off.”

You smile, pull your top over your head, the movement jarring you atop him, tearing a hiss from between his teeth before he’s back on you. His greedy palms take the immediate liberty of exploring. sliding across your bare skin and you savor his focused infatuation for a moment before you gently tug his wrists away.

“Stay still,” you repeat. “I can’t very well patch you up if you’re moving all over the place.”

Dan Heng’s eyes darken on yours with a cold, severe impatience as he registers your intent with a tick of his jaw. He’d all but admitted earlier he likes his pain served hot; so he won’t mind you warming his cock while you put him back together, will he?

A long, calculating stare before he answers, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “Of course.” His head falls back against the pillow, throat bobbing when you sit back to settle more comfortably onto his length, the ghost of a grimace upon his lips.

It’s a strange experience on both sides, the process of electro healing. Some say it’s an itchy, distressing sensation; some say it’s pleasant, the feeling of your skin knitting itself back together.

If you were to go by Dan Heng’s reactions, you’d say it’s the latter. Every bit of him is a live wire, tensed and vibrating as you guide your healing hands across each mark on his chest, electricity prickling and drawing stubborn skin back together. It’s a drawn out process, one that requires the touch of a patient hand in order to not leave behind scars.

It’s difficult work, made infinitely more so by the fixed state of tortured lust recycling between the both of you, stoking with each subtle shift of him inside you.

“You’re doing well,” you murmur softly, years worth of proper bedside manner taking hold.

His cock twitches at the praise, but otherwise he’s stone cold, jaw set, eyes seeming to fight in order to focus with a vicious intensity on the space you’re connected, like he’s tormenting himself with the sight. 

“Almost done,” you whisper, a bandage weaving its way into existence as you trace your index in a rectangle around his wound. “There shouldn’t be pain, but some people say they feel a bit of a phantom itch around the area, so I like to bandage over it regard–”

A hand threads into your hair and the world spins as you’re flipped with impressive speed onto your back, your head hitting the soft of his pillow with a gasp. His palm wraps the front of your throat lightly, keeping your head effectively trapped within his frigid gaze, almost daring you to try and look away as his thumb seeks the support of your ratcheting pulse.

Dan Heng kicks his pants off the rest of the way, wasting no time shoving your skirt carelessly above your waist before spearing himself into you again, his pool of restraint run dry by your teasing. “I should keep you here for good. Never let you leave this room.” Your legs wrap his waist as he spears into your folds, hitting a spot again and again that has your toes curling.

His lips slam against yours, tongue pressing in to better devour your cracked whimpers. You’re going to pass out, you think, can’t even seem to draw a breath as he spirals atop you. He pulls back to lick across the seam of your mouth, groaning appreciatively. “I hope you had fun. I have my proclivities. But so do you.” He leans into your ear; soft, even voice a contrast to the way he fucks recklessly into you, each thrust brutal and precise. “You did such a good job on me today. Nobody could have done it better. I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to fuck you like this–”

With a shattered cry, you climax, back arching against his as he pulls back to drink in your twisted expression. “Tell me how I own you,” he pants, breaths coming quicker,  “tell me who you belong to now.”

His mouth captures yours again, not even wanting of an answer, and even through the white hot heat of your release, you search out his lower lip with your teeth and bite down. The choked splutter that escapes from his throat is beautiful, his striking features twisting into a snarl as he picks up a devastating pace, driving himself into you with a ferociousness on his face you’ve only ever seen aimed at shared enemies.

His hand clutches a handful of hair at the crown of your head as he leverages himself to slam as deep as he can. Each stuttered jerk of his hips is bliss as he spills inside you, his head falling into the sweat damp crook of your neck as if he can’t hold it properly upright as he groans out a lengthy release.

Fingers comb through your hair and slowly you’re rolled over onto his chest as your breathing evens out, tucking yourself into his side, hand splaying across the bandage there. You look at him, feeling utterly spent, and are rewarded by a contented sigh when you smooth your palm across his stomach.

“So, how do we know if the score is settled?” you say and he huffs a small laugh.

“We’ve got time.”

You smile to yourself. In the meantime, it wouldn’t be the worst thing, you think, being Dan Heng’s.

[alliebirb]

ok your revo children ocs are a d o r b s 🥹🥹🥹 do you have any headcanons on them?? tell us moreee

Beloved revo bby anon………. i am so sorry it has taken me so long to return to you……… but i thought of you out on the battlefield……. Stored this ask in a locket that ended up saving me from a bullet….. i hope you will accept several chiyoko and senbi arts as my apology for leaving you at the window for so long.

anyways:

RAGGHHHHHH💝💝💕💖💖💕💕💖💖⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ THANK YOU FOR ASKING ABOUT MY GRANDCHILDREN ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚ i would LOVE to give some hcs!!!!!!

A LOT of senbi and chiyoko fun facts and arts below the cut!!!

Chiyoko!!!!

- first meets atem when she’s 4, and oml within like 2 months she has him wrapped around her little finger just like her momma

- She would follow atem around like a shadow, cheerfully parroting atem’s greetings to palace guards the the royal court

-except set, she’ll hide behind atem under his cape if she sees him coming. set isnt trying to scare her or anything, he just has major rbf, is like 6’3, and doesnt know how to approach talking to children. Atem tries his best to get them to converse but set just shuffles awkwardly as his cousin tries to get chiroko to relinquish her death grip on his tunic.

- older than her brother by 5-6 years, and is so so so excited when senbi is born!!!!! little baby brother!!!!!! stays protective of him (and anzu) from when he was an infant into adult years (also atem to an extent)

- chiyo would get along with mana like 2 peas in a pod!! Mahad would love her to b i t s, but his calmer, more paternal/fraternal energy towards atem would multiply with chiyoko and he would treat her like small precious baby while mana is just like “hey kiddo wanna see me turn your dad into a frog real quick” just to see her laugh (and fuck with atem, two birds, one stone)

- she went through ages 5-8 fully believing that atem was her biological father and would constantly be asking when her multicolored hair would come in. Atem never had the heart to tell her and would just say “wont be long now!!” Anzu had to break the news and chiyoko went through the evening with her arms crossed pointedly turning her entire body away from Atem.

- When she turned 16, she ended up dip dying her hair red and anzu complimented how nice it looked while atem sobbed into her shoulder (i will forever hold art of this from @shinayashipper SO close to my heart)

- they may not be biologically related, but i stg, chiyoko inherited atem’s competitive love of games through osmosis

- That combined with anzu’s determination leads to a tyrannical warlord during family uno

- thinks jonouchi is the coolest EVER and jonouchi actively rubs his favorite uncle status diRECTLY into honda’s face

- secretly thinks mai is even cooler but is too spooked to talk to her

- Also gets really close to anzu’s dad, and gets SO excited to spend summer days in the countryside catching beetles and wading through creeks! She runs ahead while Hitoshi holds senbi’s hand and answers his gardening questions

- Definitely comes home every day after school with an absurd amount of dirt and grass stains

- grows up with confidence and assuredness to rival her parents

- fun fact!! Chiyoko is named after the mc from satoshi kon’s Millennium Actress since in convergence (longfic concept where she first came up) she’s yanked around with anzu in the time travel mumbo jumbo from japan to egypt

- as she grows up, chiyoko ends up looking v v similar to anzu’s mom, but just replace kiori’s scowl and gray eyes with a smile and hitoshi’s brown eyes (more oc stuff). Also v fashionable!!!

Senbi:

- born when anzu and atem are in their late twenties, post-marriage, and while he has some of atem’s hair coloration style and skin tone, his eyes and hair color are all anzu - much to anzu’s dismay and atem’s adoration (atem is now tied around two little fingers at once)

- Shy boy!!! When he was small, there was always one hand holding onto to atem or anzu’s pants leg or holding chiyo’s hand

- Doesn’t have a competitive bone in his body, just wants to have fun and tbh, doesnt love games all that much!

- older senbi would love watching chiyoko and atem go ham on each other during games and will be sharing popcorn with anzu as they both roll their eyes

- as a child, likes to sit with anzu quietly and read his picture books, or sit on atem’s lap as he works through a crossword

- Senbi always takes a while to go to sleep and when he was little, anzu would sit in his bed and read aloud whatever performance arts book she’s been reading. Eventually, he would fall asleep, but many times, Atem wakes up alone and walks in to senbi’s room to see anzu conked out.

- Senbi and yugi rlly vibe and have the same wallflower energy so!! He always gets rlly excited when yugi comes to visit, bringing him to his room to show him all the cool picture books he got from the library this week

- To which yugi ofc sits there as happy as can be and engaging with everything “omg i LOVE robots, what’s that one about??? :DD”

- ((Many years later, senbi would start working on his own color tattoo sleeve bc he’s always thought yugi’s looked SO COOL, and if yugi learned this he would be sobbing on the floor))

- and unlike chiyo, out of atem’s pseudo-siblings, bibi would definitely get along best with Mahad, and would love to just sit in his study with him and watch Mahad write on scrolls and test spells

- would have one of those city apartments stuffed full of plants and books

-Chiyoko was always the protective older sister, he could yell for her and she would come barreling in from wherever she was, ready to throw down. This still stands true into adulthood, though chiyoko is more likely to verbally assault someone than punch them

- while chiyoko would love looking for all the bugs and frogs and snakes on the family summer trips to the countryside, senbi would not. One time, chiyoko was excitedly showing everyone the giant beetle she found and it flew right towards senbi’s face. Atem had to spend the rest of the day inside with senbi watching cartoons.

- Jono and Honda like pulling little scare pranks on chiyoko as she loves chasing them around for retribution, but if they accidentally spook senbi as collateral, anzu’s hitting them with a chair

- really into art and while he cant draw amazingly, he loves visiting artist exhibitions and alleys. will spend his entire paycheck.

- would be a tattoo artist!

THANK YOU AGAIN SM FOR THIS ASK IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG BUT I NEEDED TO GIVE IT THE ATTENTION IT DESERVED!!!!!

may the cat revo bbies bless you and PLEASE come into my askbox again, i SWEAR i will be faster……. Probably…

[vibratingskull]

Yandere!Thrawn A.U x f!reader chapter 5

Part 1, 2, 3, 4

tag : Yandere behaviors (duh), dub-con, hate sex, protected p in v

You come back on the Chimaera with the assurance by Thrawn that everything was being taken care of. “I arranged everything, you will get your new papers at your apartment.” he promised. That means after the presente campaign, so in several months… The wait will be long.

On his side he definitely works to have you before the end of that campaign.

You went your separate ways, him commending and you obeying. The daily grind installed and while your little escapade with Thrawn was nice while it lasted, the reality of the hierarchy imposes itself to you both. You only see him on the bridge to get his orders and steer the Chimaera. You exchange smiles but nothing much.

You only catch a glimpse of him when you bring him the datacards each evening. You see him frowning on his datapad, deeply focused. He even stopped teaching you his way with art, “I am sorry, I am not a great mentor.” he sighs, “It’s okay, we are both busy. You even more than me” you temper, he shakes his head “I am not up to the expectations I setted for myself, and that is a first for me.” You smile comfortingly to him “You’re a great mentor. Just a busy one”

But that doesn’t please him. All those hours he could have had with you… Definitely lost to the void. But he didn’t have a choice: the Emperor ordered to meet him, and with that all the threats and presents it comes with. And all the stress… He inherited a new campaign from a former incompetent Grand Admiral, that means new battlefields, new enemies, new tactics, everything restarting from 0 and takes him so much time.

He doesn’t show it but he awaits the evening with a beating heart, to finally see your face and hear your voice even for a fleeting instant.

You, you await the evening because being with him cheers your spirit, it makes you forget the death of your lover. Your nights are long and sleepless with you tossing and turning in your bed, to no avail. The true hard reality of your loss imposes itself to you without mercy.

One day while you're eating in the cantina of the Chimaera mind drifting away in memories of your lover, a woman comes sitting in front of you “Mind if I sit with you?” she asks. “No probem.” You raise your head to realize it is the Captain of the ship, a beautiful, competent woman you look up to. “Ma’am!” You salute her. “Don’t ma’am me when it’s time to eat, I hate that.” she snarls, “Oh… okay.” curious, usually higher officers hold on to the respect given by their title like bugs to honey.

“So…” She starts “Tell me, between you and me, between women. You and Thrawn? How is it going?” You blink, stop mid-movement of taking a bite. “What do you mean?” You inquire, a bit lost. “Well, you are close with each other, no? You have been seen leaving a hotel together on Coruscant after all. I was just wondering…” Oh no! You hope being seen with a lowly Lieutenant Commander won’t undermine his reputation! “No… No! We are friends, nothing of the sort, just friends….” you temper.

“So you won’t mind if I tempt my luck with him, then?” she hits you with. You remain stunned for a second. Mind? Tempting luck with him? “Why?”, “Are you blind? He's sexy as hell. He looks good enough to eat.” She says biting down her meat. Thrawn? Sexy? You never saw him in this light… Maybe it’s friendship blinding you. “No, I meant why do you ask for my permission?”, “Because you’re the closest person he gots and there's rumors about you two being together.” You mentally scoff at that. Him and you? A Grand Admiral and a Lieutenant Commander, this only happens in the holos! But you never saw him as a potential partner, maybe…

No, you’re having too much difficulties picturing it

“So are you gonna cause me some problems?” she insists. “No. Do what you want.” you enable her. She nods, satisfied. “In fact, could you lend me a hand with him?”

You take a mental step back, helping her? That is Thrawn's private life, you should not play with and interfere. That would be improper and he’s your friend. You should not play cupid. “Hum… I don’t know. He likes his privacy and-”

 “I know you have difficulty rising through ranks, I could help you in return…” she proposes

“Enter.” says the stormtrooper in front of Thrawn’s office, you pass the doors to find him deeply focused on his datapad once again. “It’s me” you softly says, he immediately raises his head and stands up, alarmed “Is there a problem?” he invastigates. You shake your head with a smile “No, I just came to see how you are doing. You look tense!” he relaxes a bit, with a thin grin “Is it that visible?”, “No, but I’m starting to know you, Grand Admiral!” you tease. 

You take your time to observe him, it’s true he’s handsome, you realize. With harmonious and delicate features, his face is really pretty to look at and his smooth and deep voice doesn’t spoil anything. How could you miss that? 

“I am investigating the Nebula project.” he explains sitting back down, his voice is as steady and assured as ever but you notice a touch of lassitude. You don’t know much about this project, you’re not high enough for that, you just know it monopolizes fundings profitable to Thrawn’s TIE defender project and he’s fighting tooth and nail for getting them back. This and the recent meeting with the Emperor and the newly added campaign to the ones he already has must start to take a toll on him…

You slide behind him and start massaging his shoulders, it is highly inappropriate, but you hope he understood you came as his friend and not his subordinate. He doesn’t stop you. You find knots in his muscles and work to make them disappear. He rolls his shoulder and neck to make the tension disappear. “You really are tense!” you exclaim “Do you want help with that?”, “You are already helping.” he simply says. “I thought about something more… potent.” you try. “What are you suggesting?” he turns his head to look at you from the corner of his eyes, “Something tremendously fun and… inappropriate.” you smile deviously, trying to communicate to him some enthusiasm. He raises an eyebrow “Inappropriate?” he says cautiously “You peak my curiosity.” his tone remains casual, but you see his attention in his eyes. “Maybe not inappropriate but unconventional, for sure.” you correct, you’re nearly certain fraternization among the hierarchy is highly unheard of considering how uptight it is, “I know you like unconventional.” He takes your hand in his and squeezes it gently “Indeed, I do. You do know me well. What could I hope for during this unconventional time?”, “How about an explosion of sensations, a thrill rarely felt, the highest of pleasure” You make it sound as enticing as you can, you’re supposed to blow her trumpet to him while preserving her identity a secret, less easy than first anticipated. He squeezes your hand harder “Why wait, when we could do it now?” he whispers with a voice full of intentions and eyes devouring you. You gently smile and tap his shoulder comfortingly “Because you’re a busy Grand Admiral.” You escape his grasp and it seems to you he tries to hold you back for a sec before letting you go, but can’t be sure. You head to the door and turn towards him “Work well and tonight you will receive your reward, it will be a nice surprise.” you wink at him and exit his office. 

Your job is done, now it’s up to those two. You’re surprised Thrawn was down for it, to be honest, he’s more relaxed and laid back than you first thought. You hope he will have fun!

Evening couldn’t come quick enough! The hours flow by agonizingly slow, Thrawn can’t wait a minute more!

Him who felt devastated to not be able to give you enough of his time, you came by yourself with promises of delicacies and wonders greater than his wildest dreams. He accomplished his tasks with a renewed energy, with new, fresh eyes. This report on the Nebula project suddenly doesn't look like a pain in his back but a new simple obstacle he will overstep over like every other obstacle until now. He feels invincible, infallible, more daring than usual. 

He let warm water trickle down his body, mind flooded with images of you, how your magic fingers helped him relax, how you teased him, how you escaped him with a playful wink full of promises, how you edged him for the whole day… He licks his lips.

He steps out of the fresher, brushes his teeth with your toothbrush, comb his hair and puts on some cologne. He passes on a fresh, clean uniform and heads to his suite to check everything is in order, everything has been thoroughly cleaned by the droids, he put on some of your favorite smooth band and reserved a bottle of champagne in ice, he ordered some petit-fours (he knows your a gourmand after all) and his sheets have been changed to clean, silky new ones.

You’re the only one missing now!

He smiles to himself, he planned a complete battle tactic to conquer you, but looks like he won’t need it. He still wonders to what he owes that turnaround, but he’s not complaining, not at all. He clasps his hands behind his back as he looks at an art piece in his living room, awaiting for you eagerly.

Tonight is the night! Tonight you will be his, and he will be yours. Finally one, like it must be, like it always must have been. He will hold you tight and show you what true devotion and loyalty feels like.

He will ruin you for any other man, remove your desire to see other people. And you will stay together, always attached by the hips, never leaving the other even for a moment. You will witness his victories with a ringside seat and congratulate and reward him as only you can do. He will treat you like a goddess, devoting himself to you everyday, tirelessly. It will be a dream, a-

The door shushes open, his smile grows larger. Finally, the most exquisite evening can start, his thirst will be quenched and his hunger and pain will… hold on a second… That is not your step pattern. Who…

“Well, well, well! I didn’t ask for that much!” He hears his Captain's voice, he didn’t shudder but it was close “You know how to do it with women, Grand admiral.” He, oh so slowly, turns towards her, like a predator on the hunt.

He sees her with a big smile, holding the champagne bottle. “You really went all in! I appreciate the attention.” she says seductively, putting down the bottle and stepping towards him. She opens her jacket to reveal she doesn’t have anything under it and presses herself against him, hugging him tight. He doesn’t respond

In fact he feels incredibly revolted. Why is she here?! Where are you?! What’s the meaning of this?! If this is a joke, the culprit will have it coming!

“I dreamed of this moment so many times…” She sighs satisfied. He takes her hands and detaches them from him, “I am sorry, I was under the impression I would receive someone else.” he politely turns her away. She raises her head to him with round eyes “Wha… but…” He smiles contrily and puts her jacket on her shoulders, hiding her modestly. 

She takes a step back like he slapped her, shocked. “Who… Wait HER?!”, he doesn’t react, doesn’t confirm or deny anything, but she’s intelligent enough to put two and two together, she’s not his Captain for nothing. “This goose!?” she shouts “She can’t even rise through ranks properly!”, “You may leave.” he calmly informs, not in the mood to endure her whim. “I’ve never been so humiliated!” she spits, he doesn’t add salt to the wound but being bare chest in front of a superior who just rejected you must be pretty humiliating, he admits it. “But her?! This… idiot?!” his nose flares, he let the first insult fly in honor of her competency but now she’s slipping into dangerous territories. “I said : you may leave…” he reiterates coldly. She doesn’t take the hint, too lost in her own drama “Wait! She’s not here but I am and you definitively hoped for something tonight, this can still happen.”, “I do not think so.” He grasps her arm and pulls her towards the door “Now, leave.”, “Wait!” She tries again “If you don’t do it I…I ‘ll complain you raped me!” He stops dead in his tracks and turns towards her, with an icy cold glare “I’m serious, and you could say bye to you TIE defender project…” she threatens. He gauges her, his first instinct tells him to bash her head on the corner of the tea table, but she must have gossiped about it to some friends that know where and with whom she is… He’s not good with politics but it is easy to imagine the consequences of such accusations. He holds the bridge of his nose, oh the headache he feels coming… He calculates in his mind rapidly, and comes to the conclusion that if he wants to be left in peace and keep her talents for him he will need to abide by her vagary…

He digs his nails in her flesh and delects himself in her yelp of pain “Alright, but we are doing this on my terms.” He threatens. He pulls her over to his chamber and throws her on his bed carelessly, she lends with a “oof”, he opens his drawers and takes something before entering the bed. As she turns to him, he’s already on her, he pushes her down to the mattress. “First of all,” he takes her hands and forces them up and shackles them “Do not touch me.” He places himself between her legs and rips open her pants, she cries indignant but that is her problem to deal with. “Second…” He opens his trousers much more carefully and frees his cock, he fists it to give it vigor because the Warrior knows this scene isn’t exciting to him. “I like my women quiet. Silence,” he swiftly put on a condom, because there just no way he would fuck her raw, he opens her legs wider and enters her without warning nor preparation. She gasps at the sudden sensations of fullness. He wondered if the lubricant on the condom would suffice but she’s pretty wet.

Deviant…

He installs a brutal and merciless pace and rubs her clit for maximum pleasure. He bites the inside of his cheek, not only does he have to do that, he also has to be sure she’s satisfied to ensure her good behavior… In what mess did you put him? She gasps and moans at each thrust, enjoying herself, getting what she wanted. 

“Ah… Slower… You’re hurting me…” she manages to say between whimpers of pleasure, “No.” He coldly responds “You wanted me, you have me. Now, bear the consequence of your choices.” 

He deploys everything his former partners taught him to push her to completion. He shudders at her moans that sound like strangled pig screams to his ears, this is really disgusting. Your moan and mewls would be so much more elegant and exciting, nothing like … whatever this is. 

The mechanic act of thrusting brings him some pleasure and he’s terribly ashamed and angry at his body response. How could he, him who knows the higher pleasures you can provide, settle for any less, especially with a common baseless woman? Intolerable!

At some point he gets enough of her pig squeals and grasps her throat, pressing it between his powerful hand “I said…” he hisses “Silence.” 

Her odor starts invading his nose so he holds his breath and accelerates his ministrations. When he feels her close he finishes her with some powerful thrust, denying himself orgasm. She doesn’t deserve it.

He swiftly slips out of her and dresses back as quickly, he will need another shower to wash her off of him he sighs. He leans over her and unshackles her, and seizes her jaw “Now, Get.Out.” he puts all of his experience in his words to ensure a future good conduct. Her blissful smile disappears for a terrified expression, she nods silently and runs through the door. His nose flares, his whole room smells like her and sex, not to his liking.

But first a conversation with you.

You’re reading a holobook when your heart knocks at your door, “Coming!” you say, dressing up to appear presentable. You open your door to a Thrawn with wet hair, clearly out of the fresher. You’re about to greet him joyfully when you feel the cold blizzard emanating from him. Your smile dies instantly, “Is… Is there a problem?”, “Can I enter, please?” he asks politely, but something in his very calm demeanor sends a shiver down your spine. You step to the side, letting him in. Your room always seems so small with him inside… 

“With all the respect I owe you.” he starts, making you jump “ What did you think about?” he doesn’t even raise his voice, but it shocks you to your core, your instinct telling you to be on the lookout. “I… Something went wrong?”, “Yes, something definitely did. But that is not why I am here, I am here to know what train of thought led us to it. So?” You gulp, he’s really mad but remains placid “I… I’m sorry, I just wanted you to have some fun with someone you trusted. You seemed down for it, I… I don’t kno-’”

“I was only down because-” He stops before saying too much. Because I thought it was you, but he won’t admit it now! “Why did she come to you in the first place?”, “She needed help to approach you… I thought you could have fun times with someone you trusted” you repeat with a small voice, slowly taking a step back. He can’t believe it! “That is it?” he calmly investigates, “You wanna sit?” you propose desperately “We could talk over a cup of caff, we could-”, “That is it?” he repeats slowly backing you against the wall, towering over you with all his height. “She… implied that she could help me rise through rank, that she-”

You’re suddenly being pushed against the wall, your wrists are being seized and immobilized. You cry of surprise and fear. He hisses at your face, baring his teeth to you, his long prominent canines glowing in the dull light of your room. You open your eyes wide, holding your breath.

He can’t believe what he hears! That's it?! You sold him for a fleeting promise?! For words throwing out like that?! He always loved your naivete and innocence, but tonight it had real consequences, real price he had to pay with his flesh. Your greed had grave repercussions. He observes you cowering under his gaze, delighting himself in your reaction. That is more what he likes, you fearing him and the power he holds over you. How could you throw him under the bus like that? It is time you realize who your master is.

“Please… Thrawn… You’re scaring me…” you whine, holding your breath in utter fear. You feel his powerful hands could crush your wrists in a million pieces if he just wanted to. You lower your head, you can’t meet his burning gaze. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” you gasp.

He recovers his calm and gauges you up and down, judging if you learned your lesson. He releases you and clasps his hands behind his back “Thank you for your clarifications. Good night, Lieutenant Commander.” he simply says and exits your room without hurrying himself. You slide against the wall to the ground, sobbing and massaging your wrists, shocked.

He goes back to his suite, mind bubbling with activity. Looks like another night he won’t sleep through, better get to work. He conserves a thought for you, searching for the best way to make you pay for your treacherous actions.

@bluechiss @blueninjablade3 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @twilekchiss

[fe-fictions]

I’m being so fr I love you and your work but every time I come back to the blog I have to ask myself whether or not I’ve developed amnesia 😭 do you have any Alfonse tucked away somewhere in the crevices of the internet?

(I have one very sweet little drabble-y thing just for you!! U V U )

The night was still young, and Alfonse was restless. Everyone had already eaten, and those who had spare time outside of chores, patrols  and meetings, they were making merry and enjoying themselves. 

Everyone seemed to be accounted for, except for arguably the most important individual in Alfonse’s eyes; Kiran.

Sharena didn’t seem to know where you’d gone, nor did Anna. Most of the summoned heroes weren’t certain where you’d gotten off to, until he asked one of the more observant ones.

Klein had seen you heading toward the armory by yourself just a little while ago. You seemed fine, he added when Alfonse looked confused (and obviously worried).

“What on earth does she want in there?” He wondered aloud, making a beeline for the armory. It’s not like you wielded any of the weapons, at least not well enough to use. He’d been teaching you the way of the sword, but there was no way he was going to let you bring that onto the battlefield until he was satisfied with your skills.

Maybe you were reviewing the stock on your own, as diligently as usual. Alfonse’s speculation came to a swift conclusion, though, when he passed through the tent flaps.

You were in the armory, yes; dead asleep and leaning against a polearm from where you sat precariously on a bench.

“Kiran?” His face blanched, the prince quickly coming to your side. Carefully he put his fingers to your neck; your pulse was fine, and you didn’t appear to be in pain. You just looked tired, really. 

His brow furrowed when he realized you had dark bags under your eyes, and lines drawn likely caused by the stress of the job. 

“What have you been doing to yourself?” He muttered while he got to work extricating you from the tent. He expertly pulled the polearm away, leaning you back against the weapons rack behind you so as not to wake you.

The spear quietly clacked back into place, and he returned to your side. It would be better to let you sleep.

Alfonse gently raised you into his arms, holding you to his chest and making sure your head was resting against him rather than lolling about.

Making sure you weren’t jostled or stirring, he started out of the tent.

It was tactfully ignored when heroes started whispering about what they saw; what was the prince doing with the summoner?

Why was she asleep?

Were they sweet on each other- and were they really being so blatant about it?

His focus was making sure you got some proper rest for the first time in what appeared to be ages. 

“Please excuse me,” He murmured into your hair, as he brought you back to your tent.

The cot was practically untouched; had you even slept in it that morning?

Alfonse didn’t glance around long. He slowly knelt beside the bedroll, settling you onto the blankets.

With great care, he cupped your head, making sure not to let you bounce by accident when he moved his arms out from under you.

Then came the work on your boots.

Mindful of his own armor and clanking bits, Alfonse was expert in reducing his own noise while he got to work undoing your belts and buckles that surely weren’t comfortable to sleep in.

He managed to pull the first one off before he realized his efforts were in vain.

“Alfonse…?”

“Kiran!” He squeaked when you spoke, finding you staring down at him with bleary eyes.

Blushing, he pulled back, one boot still on and the other sock exposed.

“Forgive me, I just…I found you asleep in the armory and wanted you to be more comfortable in your tent. I brought you back and wanted to at least take some of your armor off while you rested.”

“Thanks.” You rubbed at your eyes, “I didn’t even realize I’d fallen asleep at all…guess I’ve been working harder than usual.”

“You’ve always worked hard,” Alfonse countered, recovering himself so he could continue his efforts. You watched with a lazy smile as he continued to undo your other boot, “I think it’s just the steady flow of hard work finally sapped the last of your strength, and this was the result.”

“You think so?” 

He nodded quietly while he set the footwear neatly to the side, before returning to your side. You reached for his hand and he gladly took it, giving your fingers a gentle squeeze from his seat beside the bedroll. 

"Would you like to spend the night with me, then?”

“Uhh…”

“Just to sleep,” You added in quickly, realizing the blush on his cheeks wasn’t because of a polite invitation. “I mean, it’s not like you don’t work hard, too…I thought it might be a good chance for both of us to get some good sleep.”

“If you don’t mind having me here.” Alfonse said softly, “I’m happy to stay until you fall asleep, if you’d rather I not stay all night.”

“I’d have you here every night if I could.”

The prince’s heart skipped a beat, and enthusiastically agreed to join you to bed.

He undid his own armor and belts, left in his tunic, trousers and socks.

His headpiece was carefully placed on your desk before he crawled under the blankets with you.

Your arms were open to receive him, and Alfonse was happily wrapped up in a sleepy embrace by his loved one.

You nestled your head into his hair, feeling far more relaxed with the handsome, sweet prince snuggled up with you.

“Goodnight, Alfonse…thanks for looking out for me.”

“Always.” He smiled against your skin, a chaste kiss along your collarbone. “Sleep well, Kiran.”