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the-teufort-nine · 2 months ago

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The BLU Chemist Reader returns for their final fic! 11k words and about a week of work and beta reading by @pinkypiechar have led to this! I hope it lives up to expectations!

If you like the idea of a Chemist Reader, please consider checking out my longer, RED Chemist Fem!Reader fic, whenever I actually get around to writing it.

Mercs x GN!Reader | Respawn Malfunction PART 3: Chem and RED's Excellent Adventure

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ Hurt/Comfort, Discussion of Poly Relationship, Crossfaction Flirting | NSFW, because while technically no sex happens, its definitely discussed/implied| Cw: starvation, mentions of graphic death/description of a corpse, mentions of pet death (non graphic), possesive behaviours ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Featuring:

Everyone! Even Miss Pauling is here, as well as a particularly charming duo from the enemy team.

Scenario: Having been stranded at the new base with no hope of making it back to their team alone, the BLU Chemist must ask their mortal enemy for help. Thankfully, even a RED Engineer has some good ole' southern hospitality, and the Texan offers to get the BLU back to their team. (Un)fortunately, someone else has joined in on their little quest...

The RED team's Engineer had seen many things during his time working for Mann Co., but the sight before him now may have been the strangest yet.

The BLU Chemist, whom everyone knew had died during that horrible Respawn failure, was standing on the other end of his trusty shotgun.

Well, standing might have been too generous a word. The Merc was swaying like a sapling in a storm, trembling from the effort of staying upright. Their usually vibrant eyes were dull behind their safety goggles, which didn't hug their face like usual. Everything they wore looked baggy and ill-fitting, barely hanging onto their gaunt, thin form. They looked dead, as though their soul had been dragged back from the afterlife and shoved into their corpse.

“How the hell…” he lowered his gun, blue eyes narrowing in disbelief, “Ain't you supposed to be dead?”

“I was.” They shrugged weakly, stumbling slightly, “Now I'm not. I actually just died again a few hours ago, and I'm pretty sure my team might think I'm actually dead. Again.”

“Jesus Mary and Joseph.” The Engineer cursed, before opening the door wider. “Well, I reckon since it's a ceasefire, ah ain't bein’ paid t’ kill ‘ya, so y’ may as well come in. Just try ‘n keep the noise down, otherwise you're gonna have 9 curious bastards pokin’ atcha.”

“I'll be as quiet as a church mouse.” The BLU replied, wincing as they stepped into the illuminated interior. “Jesus, that's bright.”

“It really ain't.” The Southerner arched a concerned brow, “You’re just sick as a dog.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Came the Chemist’s grumbled response.

“Where’d you come from? Ain’t much ‘round here that could get ‘ya killed, aside from us.” He asked, extending a hand to steady his unexpected guest as they tilted towards the wall.

“Uhhhh,” The Chemist scrubbed at their eyes, letting their hand drag down their face. Their E/C eyes stared blankly at the wall as they tried to call forth an answer. “Colorado. Yeah, we were in Colorado. We had to stop at this little town called Limon ‘cause there was a tornado.”

“A tornado?”

“Yeah. It knocked down a utility pole. That’s how I died again, actually! Biggggg ole electric shock.”

Engineer let out a low whistle. “Nasty way to go. You are one unlucky sumbitch, huh?”

The Chemist inclined their head. “Or, I’m a lucky ‘sumbitch’, depending on how you look at it. I’ve cheated Death twice now, after all.”

Engineer snorted at their attempt to mimic his accent. It reminded him of his own team’s Chemist, who was tucked away upstairs, sleeping peacefully. She often copied his countryisms, and he would sometimes catch her unconsciously copying the accent or speech mannerisms of whomever she was speaking to.

“Maybe.” he acquiesced, “Yer a right tough bastard, ah’ll give ‘ya that. No wonder yer such a pain in the ass when we’re scrappin’.”

The other Merc grinned a bit. “Being a pain in the ass is my specialty.”

Before he knew it, Engineer found himself standing in the Intel room, where the base’s phone was located. Thankfully, their Intel was still packed away in a secure safe, but even if it wasn’t, the man was fairly sure that this BLU wouldn’t try and snag it.

“Here ‘ya are! Hope ‘ya get through to someone.” He said, offering the phone to the exhausted Chemist.

“‘Preciate it.” They said, taking the phone and punching in a few numbers. They leaned against the wall, head resting on the wood as they listened to the phone ring. After a minute, they frowned, letting out a soft curse.

“Pauling’s not picking up. The storm must have knocked out her signal.” They sighed, “Great. Guess I'm waiting back at our base for them to show up. Whenever that is.”

“Are you gonna be able to hang on that long?” The Texan questioned, “No offense, partner, but you look like yer gonna drop.”

The Chemist sighed again, in a long, drawn out way, the way someone did when bone deep exhaustion finally caught up to them. The way animals do when they've given all they can, and now simply must lie down and wait for the inevitable.

“It's not like I have much of a choice. I mean, what else am I supposed to do?” They asked.

“Well,” The RED Merc scratched at his chin, contemplating if what he was about to do was a good idea, “Ah don't know if you know this, but we're in good ‘ole Texas, and Colorado really ain't too far from where we're stationed. If ‘ya want, ah could drive ‘ya on over there.”

The BLU raised their head off the wall, eyes widening in surprise.

“You- you'd do that? For me? Why?”

Engineer shrugged. “Ah feel bad fer ‘ya. ‘Sides, if you die, then they're gonna replace you with someone new, and ah rather prefer the enemy ah know to the enemy ah don't.”

The two mercenaries stared at one another for a long moment, the only sound being the cricket song coming from outside. Finally, the Chemist let out a dry, wheezing laugh, their teeth bared in a vicious grin.

“Good God I must be insane, trusting a RED.” They chuckled, “You know what? Sure, I'll take you up on that offer, cowboy.”

They reached forward and playfully tugged down the brim of Engineer's hat, causing him to lightly bat their hand away.

“Cream gravy! Alright, let's mosey on out then. Ah wanna be back before mah team starts wonderin’ where ah went.” He said, starting off in the direction of his truck, which was parked faithfully outside.

The Chemist plodded along behind him, and there were a few times where he had to glance back to make sure that they hadn't fallen behind too much. When they finally did make it to the truck, Engineer let them climb into the passenger seat while he nipped over to the trunk. Flipping it open, he pulled out an old, well loved blanket. It was black and white and gray striped, something he'd gotten for his childhood dog, Bucket. Bucket had been a fat, lazy beagle who did nothing but lounge around and bark at guests, but the man had loved him more than anything.

Bucket had passed away some time ago, but he'd never stopped taking the blanket along with him. Now, it would finally get to see some use again.

“Here,” he passed the blanket to the shivering Merc, “It ain't much, but it should help keep ‘ya from freezin’ over ‘till the heat kicks on.”

“T- Thanks.” The Chemist replied, gingerly taking the offered fabric. They thumbed the worn fabric, setting it across their lap.

“No problem.” Engineer replied, shutting the door to his side.

For a moment, it almost sounded like one of the back doors had shut as well, and he looked back over his shoulder, eyes squinting in the low light. His gaze lingered for a moment, but when nothing revealed itself, he slowly turned back around and started up the truck.

“Ah’ve got a map in ‘m glove box. Pull it out and let's find that little town of yers.”

The Chemist nodded, and Engineer put the truck into drive.

It was going to be a long drive.

A couple of hours into their trek, the RED Engineer noticed that his passenger was starting to droop more than usual. Worse than that, he could hear their stomach growling like an ornery gator every few minutes.

Wordlessly, he eyed up the nearby fast food places before pulling off the road they'd been driving on. The Chemist didn't even seem to notice, too preoccupied with just staying somewhat awake.

“You up for a snack, Darl’?” He asked, gently nudging the BLU.

“Mnhm.” They mumbled back, “C’n I have m’ cheeseburger yet?”

“Sure, we can do a McDonald's run.” Engineer replied, turning into the nearest drive through.

He quickly placed an order for both his guest and himself, paying and grabbing the food before finding a spot to park.

“Here ‘ya go. One genuine American cheeseburger.” The Texan said, handing the Chemist their food.

The Chemist stared at the offered meal, gently cradling the wrapped burger in their hands, as though it were some sort of priceless treasure.

“Engie, I could genuinely suck your dick right now.” They said softly, before sinking their teeth into the cheeseburger, not even bothering to take off the wrapper.

The RED Merc’s face turned the same shade as his uniform, and he pulled down his hat to hide his rosey cheeks.

“Don't- y’ cant just-” he stumbled, trying to make words come out of his mouth properly, “Jesus, don't eat the wrapper!”

“Sorieh, ah can't heawr you.” The Chemist replied through a mouthful of cheeseburger and cheeseburger wrapper, “Ahm too buwsy eaghting.”

“At least slow down.” He muttered, tucking into his own food.

And yes, he did take the wrapper off, thank you very much.

“Yes, please do. I have no desire to see you hork down that disgusting slop like a wild beast.”

Both BLU and RED mercenaries choked as a third voice piped up from the back, scaring them out of their wits.

“SPY!” Engineer whirled around as the Chemist hacked up their mouthful of food, the BLU thankfully having the wherewithal to stick their head out of the window, “What the hell do you think you're doing here?! How did you even get in mah truck?!”

“I followed you and slipped into the back when you were rooting around for that rag.” Spy replied, indicating to the blanket, which had halfway slipped down onto the floor. “What are you doing here, labourer? Having some sort of illicit affair with zhe enemy?”

“If- If you actually thought that,” the Chemist coughed, pounding on their chest, “then you hiding out in the back is super creepy, dude.”

“Yeah, well bein’ a creep is about all this one knows.” Engineer grit out, nostrils flaring like an enraged bull, “But usually, he knows better than to try that with me.”

“I was simply curious as to why you were sneaking off with someone who is supposed to be dead.” The masked man said, producing a cigarette from one of his pockets, “Zhe Administrator is not going to be pleased when she finds out you have been acting rather… friendly with each other.”

“Yeah, well, what is she gonna do, kill me?” The Chemist snarked. “If she wanted me dead, she wouldn't have let Pauling go ‘n get me. I must be worth more to her alive than dead.”

“She ain't got no eyes here anyway.” Engineer added, “Trust me. Ah personally go over every inch of mah equipment and vehicles at least once a week, t’ check for any bugs or cameras. Mah Betsy is as clean as a whistle.”

Engineer moved like a striking cobra, his prosthetic hand closing around Spy's suit jacket. The Frenchman dropped his cigarette as he was jerked forward, a flicker of fear coming over his face.

“And you, spook, ain't gonna breathe a damn word to Her ‘bout anything that happens on this trip, ‘cause if you do,” he tightened his grip, the metal components straining slightly under the pressure, “ah’ll know, and you won't like what happens next.”

Spy rolled his eyes, but both the Chemist and the Engineer could see that the man was sufficiently intimidated.

“Very well, I shall be silent about your little ‘road trip.’” he sneered, “And zhe Chemist's generous offer.”

“Great.” Engineer said cheerily through gritted teeth, “Ah can tell this is gonna be real fun.”

“Yippee.” The Chemist added dully, before taking another bite of their burger.

“Wh- TAKE OFF THE DAMN WRAPPER!”

Travelling with the RED Engineer had been surprisingly nice. It was almost like being back with your own Engineer, what with the southern man being so kind and polite to you, despite you both being on opposing sides.

Travelling with the RED Spy was not nearly as pleasant.

Him and the Engineer bickered almost constantly, and when they weren't bickering, Spy started semi-flirting, semi-picking on you, which usually led to yet another round of bickering.

Truly, it was almost like being stuck in a car with two overgrown toddlers.

“Is he always this insufferable?” You hissed to Engineer after Spy started listing off all the ways your outfit was offending the very concept of clothing.

“No.” Engineer sighed, looking very much like he'd like to drive all three of you into a ditch, “He's purposefully bein’ more of an ass than usual ‘cause you're here. Usually, he's a lot more quiet.”

“I'd like to see that.” You groused, before refocusing on the map in your lap. Your previous consumed cheeseburger and fries felt uncomfortably heavy in your weakened stomach, but they did help to restore some of your lost energy.

“Okay, it looks like we need to take a left in about 6 miles. We'll be turning onto Canyon Rd.” You read aloud, “We'll be on that one for a while.”

“It's real nice to have someone along who can actually read a map.” Engineer chuckled, “Usually, it's either Scout, Solly, or Pyro who rides with me into town every time we need t’ get supplies, and none ‘a them are any help when it comes to navigatin.’”

“Heh, yeah, mine aren't real great at that either.” You smiled, thinking of all the times you'd heard the three of them bickering on missions.

“Are zhose three good for anything besides destroying zhings?” Spy asked, lounging in the back like a smug cat.

“Sure.” You replied, not looking up from the map, “My Scout's actually really good at impersonating other people, Soldier is a baking whiz when it comes to bread, and Pyro can sniff out backstabbing French bastards like nobody else.”

Spy definitely didn't start pouting as Engineer started cackling like a madman, his shoulders shaking with mirth. You grinned at the sound, your own quiet chuckles joining in.

“Hooo-wee! They gotcha there, slim!” he laughed, wiping at his eye.

Spy glared. “I'm glad you find zhe idea of me dying so amusing, toymaker.”

“Oh, lighten up, would you.” You glanced back over your shoulder to look at the masked man, “Are you seriously going to tell me you guys don't joke about killing us?”

“I don't joke about killing,” Spy sniffed, “I just kill.”

Engineer snorted as you rolled your eyes, turning back to your map. “Uh huh. Sure. Whatever you say, frog legs. Turn left up here, Engie.”

“No insulting names for zhe cowpoke?” Spy arched his brow.

“Considering he's been nothing but nice to me? No. Maybe if you turn your attitude around, I'll think of something nicer to call you, too.”

“I have no desire to be as, ah, close as you two seem to be.”

You gripped the seat as you whipped around again, eyes widened in anger-tinged disbelief. “Holy shit are you still fixated on that? What, do you want me to offer to suck you off too?!”

Spy recoiled back a bit, stiffening up as the exposed skin of his upper cheeks turned a shade of pink usually reserved for flowers. However,

He didn’t say no.

“Oh, my God.” You said, raising your brows as a smirk pulled the corner of your mouth upwards, “Oh, my God.”

“Merde, no, zhat’s not what I-”

“Well,” You relaxed your grip on the seat and folded your arms, tilting your head slightly as you watched Spy squirm, looking every bit like the cat that got the cream, “you’d have to be very nice to me to get that sort of offer.”

“Je vais t'éviscérer comme un poisson si tu continues à parler!”

“Now, see, I don’t know what you just said, but it didn’t sound very nice.” You turned back around, barely holding in your laughter, “No blowjob offer for you. I guess you won’t have to share, Engie.”

“Well don’t that beat all?” Engineer replied playfully, “You sure yer team won’t mind, though?”

“The way I see it,” You said, readjusting the blanket the man had given you, “you have gone out of your way to bring me back to them, and you let me actually eat the cheeseburger you bought me. They can suck it up.”

“Sounds like you’ll be the one suckin’.” The Texan murmured under his breath, too quiet for you to hear.

“What was that?”

“Nothin!” Engineer replied, “Just talkin’ t’ m’self.”

“Is that a thing all engineers do?” You asked, “My Engie does that too, usually when he’s working on something.”

“Maybe. Mah Pa used to do it fer sure.” The RED Merc shrugged, “Wait, does yer Engineer let y’all into his workshop?”

“Well, he let’s me and Pyro in.” You said, recalling all the times you and the firebug had hung out in the space, “Sometimes Medic is allowed in, but everyone else gets the boot, unless he calls them in to help him with something.”

“Interesting.” Spy said, apparently having recovered from his embarrassment enough to speak, “Zhis one has barred us all from entering his sacred domain. Not even our Chemist get’s zhat privilege. You must mean quite a bit to him.”

“If y’all didn’t go ‘round putin’ yer grubby mitts all over everything, maybe I would let y’ in.” Engineer smacked the steering wheel, frustration in his tone, “Honestly, it’s like herdin’ cats when I let y’all anywhere near mah stuff! ‘Sides, don’tcha remember what happened the last time I let someone play around with mah equipment, Spy?”

“Oui.” Spy shuddered, “I don’t zhink we will ever fully get zhe smell of bread yeast out of zhat base.”

“I’m sorry- bread yeast?” You shot the two RED members a confused look, “What does bread have to do with you not letting anyone near your stuff?”

“It’s a long story, but I suppose we got the time.” Engineer cleared his throat, “It all started one afternoon. We’d just got done killin’ yer team and makin’ off with yer Intelligence…”

Engineer and Spy’s wild tale of love, RED victory, and bread monsters kept you entertained for the next few hours or so, the three of you eventually getting sidetracked by various other topics. By the time the sun started to rise over the Colorado horizon, the conversation had switched to being about everyone’s favourite foods.

“Look, there ain’t nothin’ better fer breakfast than a nice cup’ a coffee, bacon ‘n eggs with a side of buttered toast, biscuits, and sausage gravy ‘n grits.” Engineer said, voice full of confidence.

“I think I would actually explode if I ate all of that.” You stuck out your tongue, feeling ill at just the thought of eating so much food. If this man ate like that every morning, then it was no wonder that he sported such a plump figure in comparison to most of his other teammates.

Not that you were complaining.

“I agree, mon petit saphir.” Spy said, curling his lip. “Zhat is a disgusting amount of food for zhe very first meal of zhe day.”

“Ooh, whatever that name was, it sounded a lot nicer.” You said teasingly. “See? I knew you could do it!”

“Well would ‘ya look at that? You actually got him to simmer down.” Engineer grinned, ducking when Spy swiped irritably at his head, “Maybe you should come join up with RED. We could probably stash you away somewhere, hand y’ over to Spy when we need him to settle.”

You laughed, imagining yourself with a little service animal harness. “Tell you what, If my team decides to murder me for dying again right in front of ‘em, I’ll switch sides.”

“Heh, partner, you’ve got yerself a deal.” Engineer stuck out his hand, and you gripped it, giving it the best shake your weak arms could manage.

“It seems as zhough you’ll be making your decision sooner rather zhan later.” Spy leaned forward and pointed at an upcoming road sign, which read “Limon Welcomes You!”

“Oh SHIT we’re here!” You sat forward quickly, before wincing and holding your head, “Oh, woof, headrush. That was a bad idea.”

“Good Lord, this place has seen better days.” Engineer said, gazing at the many fallen tree branches and damaged buildings, “Where did you say y’all were stayin’ again?”

“We sheltered in an old garage near the outskirts of town.” You replied, wincing at the amount of damage you saw, “I hope they haven’t gone too far, but I wouldn’t blame them for wanting to get away as soon as possible.”

“I doubt zhey wanted to linger around your charred corpse.” You nodded grimly at Spy’s comment, not particularly looking forward to seeing it yourself, but needing to check if your team was still around.

Soon enough, the three of you pulled up to the abandoned mechanic shop. The building looked even worse than when you had last seen it, and the lack of nearby vehicles did not make you feel particularly hopeful that you would find your team here. Still, your temporary RED companion pulled over and hopped out of his truck, putting a steadying hand on your shoulder when he saw you struggling to maintain your balance. Spending so many hours sitting down did not help your already weak legs to support your weight. Stepping inside the building proper, you were careful to avoid the downed utility pole and various cables. Only a few feet away from the door lay an unmoving mass with a familiar colour scheme.

Seeing your own dead body never got any less unsettling. Usually, it was blown into unrecognizable pieces, or shot so full of bullet holes that it resembled red and blue swiss cheese, but this time it was wholly intact, save for the skin that had burned and blackened from the intense heat of the electricity that had rocketed through your body. The stench of burnt clothes, hair, skin, and the early stages of rot permeated the still air, and you quickly tugged your respirator on in disgust.

“Eugh, thank God I ate earlier, because I think I just lost my appetite.” You scrunched your nose, pulled down your goggles over your eyes, and began gathering chemicals from the various pockets and vials on your person. “Step outside, gentlemen, I’ll have this gone in a moment.”

The two RED’s quickly nodded and left, eager to get away from the smell and knowing exactly how dangerous your materials could be.

After a few minutes and a decent amount of hydrogen fluoride and antimony pentafluoride later, you emerged from the workshop’s interior to see Engineer kneeling on the ground, looking at some tire tracks that you hadn’t noticed before.

“Looks like they turned themselves ‘round and went back the way they came. They’re probably takin’ one’a the nearby backroads.”

“Think you can catch up to them?” You asked, praying that you wouldn’t have to return to your new base without your team. You wouldn’t be able to make it by yourself, and you doubted that the rest of the RED team would be as kind and hospitable as their Engineer had been.

The Texan gave you a sharp grin as he pushed himself up, dusting off his overalls.

“Do sheep wear sweaters? Hop in, and ah’ll show ‘ya just how fast ol’ Betsy can be.”

If you asked Florence if she knew her mercenaries well, you’d probably end up with a bullet in your skull, because you were not supposed to know about her mercenaries. Well, technically, they were Reliable Excavation & Demolition and Builders League United’s mercenaries, and, really, the Administrator’s above even them, but she was the one who scouted them out, checked in on them, interacted with them, gave them their assignments, and helped cover up their fuck ups.

So, yeah, they were her mercenaries. And you weren’t supposed to know about them, so now you’re lying in a shallow grave after getting very well acquainted with her hacksaw.

But if she pondered your question after the fact, then she’d say that, yeah, she did. She’d spent almost all of her very limited free time around them for the last few years, after all, and she kept an eye on them through the various hidden cameras almost as much as her boss did. She knew both teams equally well, easily picking out each of their many similarities, as well as all their little quirks and differences. For example, she knew that the RED Scout had far more freckles than the BLU one. She knew that the BLU Soldier was actually slightly more tame than his counterpart, and that he wore earplugs more often than not, though he is dedicated to never ever letting anyone find out. She knew that both Pyro’s were afraid of the dark, and she knew the exact brand of cigarettes the Spies liked to order.

She knew that both teams were full of loud, borderline rabid, bat-shit insane lunatics that enjoyed the thrill of killing almost as much as she did, maybe even more. She knew, from experience, just how difficult it was to get most of them to quiet down.

Which is what made the situation she was in so damn eerie.

She was back in Spy’s car, having taken the now available passenger seat. Her eyes kept flicking to the neatly folded blanket in Spy’s lap, its minky blue fabric still damp from the rain. The car was silent, save for the occasional muffled wheeze from Pyro, who had just about cried themself hoarse. Medic was sitting next to the arsonist, hands folded as he stared out the window. To a regular onlooker, he likely would have appeared chillingly nonchalant or uncaring. However, as has been established, Florence Pauling personally knew the men she hired to kill each other, and so she was able to see the little cracks in the man’s facade; the way his lips twitched occasionally, like they almost started to wobble before he caught himself, the slow, controlled breaths he was taking, the way his eyes were wet behind his glasses.

Spy was much the same; a perfect picture of poise and aloofness, unless you knew where to look. His suit had been left lightly rumpled, his expensive leather gloves creaked when his hands shifted, showing just how hard he was gripping the wheel, and his mouth was set in an unnaturally tense line. Occasionally, one of his hands would release their death grip on the steering wheel and slip down to feel the blanket in his lap, gently rolling the fabric between his thumb and forefinger.

None of them spoke.

What was there to say? What could any of them possibly say to make this situation better?

What could she say? ‘Sorry for your loss, let me fax you those application forms Medic shredded?’ ‘I know you’re mourning, but we need to hurry up and get back so you can all go back to killing the RED team, which still has their Chemist?’

No, silence was the better option here by far.

The purple-clad woman leaned back in her seat, head resting against the window as she committed to memory the sound of a tired yet happy voice saying her name, and the feeling of gloved hands pushing her back towards safety. It was better to think of that, rather than the sight of the BLU Chemist’s body spasming wildly before collapsing to the ground, their smoking body giving a few last jerking, dying nerve reactions.

As she stared out into the vast, dusty nothingness of the New Mexico landscape, something odd began to appear in the corner of her vision. At first, she thought it was a mirage, a strange flash of red in an otherwise sky blue and sand yellow landscape.

But then it didn’t go away.

In fact, it actually began to get bigger, becoming clearer and more defined as whatever it was drew closer. On instinct, she reached for the radio and tuned it to a specific frequency, drawing confused looks from her fellow passengers.

“Guys, I don’t want to alarm you, but something’s coming at us. Fast.” she said, leaning in close to the speaker.

“What zhe hell?” Spy said from her left, taking his eyes off the road to squint towards the horizon.

Pyro and Medic peered outside as well, squeezing in close so they could both get a look at the strange thing that was approaching.

“Sniper, can you get eyes on that thing?” Engineer asked over the radio.

Yeah mate. Just gimme a sec.” came the marksman’s reply.

Turning around in her seat, the raven could see Sniper’s van through the rear window. The man was in the passenger seat now, holding up his rifle and peering through the scope. After a moment, he jerked back, a look of shock on his face. He ducked his head back down to look again, as though he wasn’t sure he’d seen something right. In the driver’s seat, Heavy, who had taken the wheel, gave his teammate a confused and slightly concerned look.

Sniper lowered his rifle after another few moments passed, sliding back into his seat as he shouted something to Heavy, who’s confusion visibly deepened. The Russian did a double take when the marksman said something else, and he quickly said something back to the Australian, who shook his head and pointed out towards the still encroaching… whatever it was.

“Sniper wants team to slow down.” Heavy relayed, his tone making it clear that he wasn’t onboard with the idea. “Says that he… believes he saw leetle Chemist.”

“Oh joy,” Spy snarled, baring his teeth in clear disdain as he spoke into the radio, “our Sniper has finally lost it. I knew too much time spent in zhat deathtrap of his would eventually get to him.”

“Ah hate ‘t say it, but ah agree with Spy. We all- we all saw what happened to ‘em. Even if they survived comin’ back again, they'd have died of exposure, thirst, or starvation by now.” Engineer added glumly, “‘Sides, how in the Sam Hill would they get all the way out here? Snipes, ah think you should maybe go lie down for a bit while we deal with whatever's chasin’ us.”

“What is that?” Pauling asked in a low whisper, rolling down her window to get a better view.

Tuning out the sound of fully grown men bickering behind her, she focused on the anomaly. It was a bright, almost familiar shade of red, and it was kicking up quite a bit of dust as it moved across the desert. Pushing herself slightly out of the window, she picked up on the faint sound of… an engine?

Wait a damn minute.

Wait a Goddamn fucking minute.

Faster than a striking rattlesnake on cocaine, Pauling whipped her phone out and began dialing, holding it up to her ear. After a few rings, a man answered in a thick, smug-sounding Southern drawl.

“Why hello Miss Pauling! To what do ah owe the pleasure?”

“Engie, you fucking asshole!” Florence screeched, getting a confused, offended yell from the BLU Engineer, who could still hear what was being said over their shared transmission, “Did you seriously find the BLU Chemist and not tell me?! Do you know how mad the Administrator was going to be at me?!”

She could hear the RED Spy's telltale snorting cackles in the background of the call, while his BLU counterpart looked the farthest thing from amused.

“Qu'est-ce que c'est? Il vaut mieux que ce ne soit pas une mauvaise blague, sinon je jure devant Dieu que je tâcherai de rouge le sable autour de moi.” he growled as he began to slow down, shooting a deadly glare at what was now obviously a RED vehicle, likely their Engineer's truck.

“Woah now lil’ missy, we didn't mean any harm by it. You were outta range back at the base, and ah just figured it'd be easier to just deliver ‘em right to ‘ya.” The RED chuckled, “Iffen y'all are lookin’ t’ shoot us as soon as we come near, though, then we can always keep ‘em. They make pretty good company, and ‘ah know Spy likes ‘em well enough to help vouch for ‘em to the rest of the team.”

“Shoot you, what are you-” the young woman turned around, spotting several members of BLU pointing their weapons at the approaching REDs, “Scout, Soldier, Sniper! Put your guns away- Engie DROP IT!”

The other Texan had been gearing up to toss down a mini sentry, but paused at his boss’s shout. Disgruntled, he acquiesced, dropping the beeping little robot back down onto the seat.

“Now that's a might bit better. Chem, you wanna take over communications?” The RED Engineer said, before sounds of rustling fabric and a quiet ‘Thank you!’ came over the line.

“Hey, P.” Pauling could almost hear the smile in the other's voice, something that was rather impressive, given the explosion of noise that came over the radio at the sound, “Guess who's two for two on kicking Death's ass?”

“Hello, Chemist.” She replied softly, smiling back, “Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, I'm fine!” The mercenary replied quickly, sounding tired, but cheerful, “These two have been great company. Well, Engie has, at least- Spy I'm kidding- and guess what? I finally got my cheeseburger!”

“Zhose are not vhat you should be eating!” Medic chastised from the back, “Zhey are nothing but empty calories!

“Shut up! I was hungry, and Sniper didn’t let me have mine!”

“Chem,” Pauling interrupted, not wanting to be caught in the middle of another argument, “I’m happy you’re alive, really, I am, but how did you get here?”

“Oh, I Respawned at the new base. I guess the system kicked on because the other team was already there.” the Chemist explained, “I tried calling you, but it didn’t go through, so Engie offered to take me so I didn’t, you know, curl up and die.”

“I… wow, that was really nice of him.”

“Yeah, it was. I seriously owe him for this. I’ll have to buy him a nice dinner some time, or, uh,” they snickered, clearly trying to muffle their laughter, “do something for him.”

Florence got the feeling that she was missing something here.

Judging by the intense glares and scowls Medic, Spy, and likely Pyro were directing towards the truck, which was now close enough for her to pick out details, she knew she wasn’t the only one who picked up on the Chemist’s friendly tone.

“Whatever it is you two end up doing, just remember that, if you want me to not have to rat you out, the Administrator cannot know about it, which means I can’t know about it.” the purple-clad woman stressed.

“I would certainly like to know what zhat cow-boy analphabète believes our Chemist shall be doing for him.” Spy muttered lowly, finally bringing the car to a stop as the RED Engineer’s truck parked on the dusty scrubland a few feet away from them.

“No fighting guys. We don’t need anyone else having to risk not coming back.” Florence warned.

Like a pack of stalking wolves, the nine BLU mercenaries leapt out of their respective vehicles and formed an almost defensive group, most of them having only heard bits and pieces of the phone call, but understanding that they were not here to fight. They walked with an air of tenseness, hands flexing as they resisted the urge to reach for their weapons, clearly feeling uneasy in this unprecedented situation.

Still, there was a clear feeling of nervous excitement. The emotional whiplash of the past few hours had left their emotions raw and more sensitive than usual. All of them stopped when the passenger door of the dusty red truck opened with a soft ‘click!’, the wearily smiling face of their teammate popping up over the metal as they shuffled carefully towards the road.

“CHEM!” Scout yelled, unable to hold himself back anymore. A fond smile made its way onto Pauling’s face as she watched the young Bostonian dash over and scoop the other mercenary up, spinning them around for a moment before gently setting them back down on their feet.

Like deadly, man-slaughtering ducklings, the rest of BLU followed after, warmly welcoming their missing friend back into the fold. Medic was on the Chemist in an instant, examining them while asking more questions than was probably necessary. Soldier gave them what was likely meant to be a gentle pat on the back, but which ended up nearly sending poor Y/N to the ground.

Meanwhile, Pauling, Spy, and Engineer moved to greet the RED team members, who were stepping out of the vehicle themselves. The two men at Pauling’s side kept their professional appearances well, but she knew they’d like nothing more than to give into their instincts and go for their counterparts’ throats.

“Hey guys,” Florence started, hoping to make this conversation as smooth and bloodshed-free as possible, “thank you so much for bringing the Chemist back. I’ll arrange for your team to get a bonus or something for this, I promise.”

“Aw shucks,” the RED Engineer replied, tipping his hat, “it weren’t no trouble. Ahm sure y’all woulda done the same if y’ were in our shoes.”

“But of course.” the BLU Spy responded, “We’re mercenaries, not monsters.”

“What you are is lucky. Your Chemist should have never survived zhe first time, let alone a second.” the opposite colour Frenchman said, producing a cigarette to light, “Tell me, has your team figured out why Respawn went down?”

The BLU Engineer frowned. “Can’t say we have. I reckon y’all haven’t either, then?”

“Unfortunately not. It's got our team all twisted up with worry, ‘specially our Chemist. The stress has been makin’ her feel just plum awful these past few days.” the crimson-clad Texan sighed, pushing up his goggles to pinch the area between his eyes, “To be honest wit ‘ya, ah’d somewhat hoped that travelin’ with yer one might’a given me some answers, or at least an idea of what went wrong, but ah couldn’t find one single tell. If yer feelin’ amicable enough, ah’d like to work with ya t’ find the problem, so we can all stop bein’ so damn nervous.”

“Hmm.” the BLU Engineer hummed, resting a hand on his chin before glancing over at his boss, “Would that be alright, Miss Pauling?”

Florence adjusted her glasses and nodded. “Usually it wouldn’t, but under these circumstances, I’m sure the Administrator will understand.”

Suddenly, she jumped, remembering something.

“Oh, shit! Guys, we actually need to get going! I need to give the RED Chemist a contract and, like, a thousand other things that have been piling up since I’ve been gone.” She said apologetically, before turning to the RED team members, “Do you two mind if I ride back with you?”

“‘Course not.”

“It’s always a pleasure to have you around, mademoiselle.”

“Okay, great!” the raven said, smoothing down her skirt. She looked over at her companions, tilting her head slightly, “You’ll be fine getting back, right?”

They nodded, and started walking back over to rejoin their teammates. They explained that their employer wouldn’t be coming back with them, and, to her surprise, Chemist pulled away from the rest of the BLUs, walking as fast as they could over to her.

“Hey, I just wanted to ask if you were alright before you left.” The goggle-wearing chemist said, their worry clear in their voice as they laid a hand on her shoulder, “You were pretty close to that powerline too, and I wasn’t sure if you’d gotten injured or not.”

“I’m fine, Chem.” Florence reassured, giving her friend a smile, “My clothes are going to smell like burned cloth and skin for a bit, but that’s it. You got me out of the way in time. Thank you, for that, by the way.”

The Chemist inclined their head, smiling back before turning their attention to the two RED Mercs. “You two get her back safe, understand? I’d hate to have to kill you permanently after all this.” they joked, pointing a ‘stern’ finger at them.

The RED Engineer raised his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, Darl’, she’ll get there right as rain.”

He stepped forward, took the white cowboy hat off his head, and plopped it down onto the Chemist’s, tugging it down gently to secure it.

A few feet away, the other Engineer’s mechanical hand nearly crushed his gun as he shot daggers at his counterpart.

“Y’ can give me that back when y’all finally show up at the base.” he smirked, “And, iffen yer still up for it, ah think I’ll take ‘ya up on that offer of yours from earlier.”

The Chemist turned a very interesting shade of pink as they tipped the brim of the hat up slightly, revealing that their pupils were blown wide.

“Mnhm, sounds good.” they replied softly, before spinning on their heels and making a beeline for their teammates.

“I-” Florence started, before cutting herself off,

“You know what? It’s better if I don’t know what that’s all about.”

You watched as the RED Engineer, Spy, and Miss Pauling drove off, waving to them as best you could.

“Well, ain’t you ‘n them real close.” Engineer said in a tight voice. While it was quite hard to tell where the man was looking most of the time, you got the distinct feeling that he was staring at your new accessory.

“I had to listen to them argue for, like, half the trip.” You replied, “If you come out of that having not murdered them or killed yourself, then it's because you learned to like them.”

“Kinda sounded like you didn’t just like ‘em.” Scout pouted, crossing his arms, “What the hell did youse three get up to?”

“Well let’s see.” You raised your hand, ticking off your fingers as you recounted your joyous road trip shenanigans, “I got the ever loving shit scared out of me by the RED Spy, melted my own corpse, got a cheeseburger so absolutely scrumptious I offered to suck off the RED Engineer,”

“You did what now?!” your Engineer yelped.

“I listened to two fully grown men bicker like toddlers, got regaled with a tale of bread monsters, got my outfit called every French insult under the sun, and passed out from, like, severe malnutrition, probably.” You finished.

“Uh, can we walk that back a couple’a steps, mate?” Sniper asked, flushing pink.

“What, you mean the bread monster? Yeah, no, I didn’t believe it at first either, but Spy swears-”

“Not the bloody bread monster, ya daft tit!” Demo groaned, slapping a hand onto his face, “Why the bleedin’ hell are ya offerin’ t’ give our enemy a gobble?!

“Dear GOD, have they brainwashed you?!” Soldier gasped suddenly, “I swear, I will hunt down each and every one of those communist RED bastards if they so much as touched-”

“Woah, woah, woah!” You rushed to clear up the misconception, “Easy, Sol! No one did anything to me, I promise. I’m still one hundred percent me.”

“Zhen vhy…?” Medic questioned, coughing into his gloves as he trailed off.

“It started as just a joke, honestly. I wasn’t seriously thinking about acting on it at first, but when their Spy accidentally revealed that he was jealous, I started thinking about it a little bit more.” You shrugged, “Plus, well… he’s hot! And he’s nice! And he’s clearly into the idea, so… why not?”

“Why not? Why not?” Spy growled, “Because you are ours! You wear zhe same uniform and kill zhe same men as us! You are a member of BLU, and your standards should be higher zhan zhe first, non, not even zhe first, man who shows even zhe slightest interest in you! Il n’y a aucune raison de se prostituer à ce gros, analphabète Texan!”

You threw your hands up into the air, letting out your own growl of annoyance.

“Look, unless one of you is going to help me take care of my needs when I’m better, I’m walking my ass over to that pretty little base they have!” You stated firmly, crossing your arms and tilting your chin up in a petty, almost defiant way. “Maybe I’ll even proposition the rest of ‘em, I don’t know!”

“Oh my freakin’ GOD!” Scout yelled, “We are literally right here! I don’t know a guy on this team that wouldn’t fuck you if you just asked!”

There was a moment of silence after that sentence, the Bostonian’s words echoing slightly in the empty desert scrubland. The ten of you all stood there, turning red from something that wasn’t the harsh New Mexico sun.

Heavy made a sound first, awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Scout is- what is word- tactless, but he is also… not wrong.”

“Er, yeah,” Sniper scratched at the back of his neck, “the big guy's got it right. It's just we, uh…”

“Mh muph mmnmnh mhmh.” Pyro finished, talking animatedly with their hands.

“The arsonist is correct.” Spy agreed, still looking a bit flustered under his mask, “This is far from something that is easily brought up.”

You blinked slowly at your team, absorbing the information. Now, technically, you'd heard this all before, right before you'd died, but hearing it again solidified it in your mind as being real.

“Well shit.” You swore, planting your hands on your hips, “We all could have been a lot happier ages ago, huh?”

The gathered mercenaries made various sounds of awkward agreement.

“Okay, we definitely need to talk about this, and I mean a real conversation, not all of us standing around like idiots, cooking our brains in the sun while we all blush over the fact that you'd all like a piece of me.” You said, “But I think I'd rather talk in the comfort of our base, wouldn't you all agree?”

Your teammates nodded in agreement, dispersing into their chosen groups as they started back towards your vehicles.

“Yo, Chem, you ridin’ with us?” Scout asked hopefully, hooking his arm beneath yours instinctively as you wobbled slightly. He looked as though he was still feeling a bit hot under the collar, but was doing his very best to keep your conversation casual.

“Sorry, Scout, but I think I’m gonna pass out soon if I don’t lay down.” you admitted. “I promise I’ll spend some time with you when we get back. Maybe I could help you pack when I’m feeling a bit better?”

“Don’t even worry ‘bout it. You should focus on gettin’ bettah first.” Scout replied, leading you towards Sniper’s campervan, “‘Sides, I already packed up most of my crap, and I think Pyro handled your stuff, so you can just take it easy. Pretty sure the Doc is gonna make you stay in the Medbay, anyway.”

“Scout is correct, mein Chemiker.” Medic piped up, matching your slow, careful stride as he came up beside you, “Now don’t give me zhat face; it vill only be for a few days. I just want to ensure that jou are okay after going through Respawn again in jour state.”

Your expression, which had been one of pouty, light annoyance at being forced into mandatory bedrest in the Medbay, softened a bit. You could hear the genuine concern in the German’s voice, and you knew he had good reason to be. You yourself were worried that something might have gotten messed up, and you knew you were due for another round of supplement shots.

Still, it was going to suck to not be in your own room, surrounded by your familiar comforts. You knew that you’d have a lot of pent up energy by the time you got out.

Huh, actually… you could think of a few fun ways to burn off any excess energy.

“Okay, Doc, I’ll come to my appointment, I promise.” you said, smiling, “But this time, I get to choose the operating room music. You’re not cutting me open to Lili Marlén again.”

“But jou said zhat jou enjoyed it last time! Lale Andersen has zhe voice of ein Engel.” Medic pouted.

“Yeah, but if you keep playing it while you're dissecting my spleen, I’m always going to associate it with getting picked apart like a biology student’s frog.” you explained, “I won’t pick anything too bad, swear on my good beakers!”

“Hmph, I vill hold you to zhat.” the doctor warned teasingly, “Zhere vill be no more ‘Sugar Pie Honey Bunch’ in my operating room.”

“Ugh, you’re so boring.” you teased right back, sticking your tongue out at the man as Scout handed you off to Sniper, who had a fond, lopsided smile on his face. “Hey there, Stretch. Mind helping me to the bed?”

“Not at all, mate.” Sniper replied, laying a warm, sturdy arm across your shoulders, “Not at all.”

Sure enough, after around two weeks of being kept in the Medbay upon your return, your prediction of being just about ready to explode with unreleased energy had proven to be true. Your organs had actually suffered a bit of damage this time around, which had necessitated a longer stay. On top of that, you had needed to move to the new base midway through your treatment, which hadn’t helped things. However, this also meant that Medic could focus on accelerating your healing, and by the time you pranced out of those swinging double doors, you were feeling like your old self again.

Scout and Soldier were waiting there for you, just as they had been on the day you’d failed to come back.

“Heyyyyy, there you are! Freakin’ finally.” Scout whooped, bringing you into a tight hug. You returned it, squeezing back with all your regained strength, “Oof! Yup, you’re bettah alright!”

“Sure am.” you grinned, before releasing the Bostonian to tackle Soldier, who grinned and crushed you to his chest.

“It’s good to have you back in fighting shape, private! Your presence has been missed on the battlefield.” he said, patting you in between your shoulder blades, “Also, I just missed you.”

“I missed you too, Solly.” you replied, knocking your forehead against his helmet gently, “Show me around the base? I saw a bit of it when I Respawned here, but I wasn’t exactly taking in all the finer details.”

“Of course!” Soldier set you down, taking the lead as you, him, and Scout headed off down the hall.

He gave you a tour of the base and the battleground, loudly and excitedly chattering about all the great places to set up ambushes and assaults that this new location provided. You nodded along, adding your own ideas occasionally as you took in your surroundings, inhaling a lungful of warm, apple-scented air for the first time without pain. In a few days, the RED Chemist would be returning from her contract, and you would be returning to the fray, but for now you got to revel in the relative peace of the time between battles.

Eventually, Soldier led you to the barracks, showing you to your room. It had been partially set up; your bed was made and your uniforms had been hung up in your closet, but your casual clothes and personal belongings had been left in their moving boxes. You smiled softly when you flipped open the first box and spotted Pyro’s drawings sitting on top. The firebug had added a few new ones, depicting a healthy you and them frolicking through a shimmering candyland, or petting beautiful unicorns. You snorted with laughter at one of the last ones, which showed you and Pyro sitting aside a golden, fire-breathing dragon, flying high above the base, the arsonist flipping off the RED Spy and Engineer, who were being roasted by the beast.

Speaking of…

“Hey, has anyone seen my hat?” you asked Soldier and Scout, who were peering into one of your, currently empty, terrariums. The two mercenaries glanced at each other.

“Uh, I think Engie took it.” Scout rubbed his chin, “Kept mutterin’ something about the ‘cowboy hat rule.’ He sounded real pissed about it too.”

You tilted your head and frowned. “Cowboy hat rule? What the hell is that?”

“Dunno.” Scout shrugged, “You’d have to ask Hardhat.”

“Maybe I will.” you said, putting the drawings down, “Where is he?”

“The grease monkey is in his workshop!” Soldier said helpfully, “I saw him go in there before I went to wait for you.”

“Perfect,” you smiled, “I’ll be back soon, fellas. Oh, actually, could you two do me a favour?”

The men nodded.

“Tell the others I’d finally like to have that conversation we talked about.” you winked, stepping out the door, “We’ll talk at dinner, yeah?”

Slipping out into the hallway proper, you left two very warm-cheeked mercenaries behind.

“What are the chances we actually score tonight, you think?” Scout asked, biting his lip slightly.

“If Engie doesn’t make ‘em mad?” Soldier grinned, tipping up his helmet slightly, “I’d say I like our odds.”

“God, he bettah not screw dis up.” Scout huffed, folding his arms, “I hope he’s smart enough to just give Chem that hat.”

“Ah ain’t givin’ you that hat.”

The Texan and the Chemist stood almost chest-to-chest, locked in a standoff. Engineer folded his arms and fixed his colleague with the firmest look he could muster, standing absolutely resolute in his decision.

Chemist set their jaw, squinting in annoyance.

“Engie,” they started, voice firm and tone indicating that they were done with this argument, “that hat was a temporary gift. I need to give it back. I don’t know why you’re being such an ass over this, but-”

“Because it ain’t a gift!” the man finally shouted, gritting his teeth.

Chemist reeled back as if they’d been struck, shocked at the man’s outburst. They blinked, then slowly shifted to a more passive stance.

“Okay, clearly I’m missing something here, and it’s making you upset.” they said, backing up a step to give Engineer some much needed space, “Mind filling me in? Does it have something to do with that ‘cowboy hat rule’ Scout mentioned?”

“It has everything to do with that.” Engineer sighed, deflating slightly as his anger returned to a very low simmer, “A cowboy’s hat is considered an extension of his body, a real special article of clothin’. If he puts it on someone’s head, or if someone takes it and puts it on, then that’s basically the same as sayin’ yer real interested in ‘em. The ‘rule’ is basically that if you wear the hat, y’gotta ride the cowboy.”

He folded his arms again, looking into Chemist’s wide eyes. “Him puttin’ that hat on ‘ya like he did and bein’ all flirtatious was almost like him brandin’ you; a real bold move to pull right in front of all of us. You bein’ so friendly ‘n receptive ‘bout it all was just salt in the wound, and now he’s been down right gloatin’ about it ever since we got here!”

Chemist winced, rubbing at the back of their neck. “Aw, jeeze, I’m- I’m sorry, Engie. I didn’t realize how much that might bother you. This has really been eating at you, huh?”

“It has.” he confessed, feeling slightly ashamed by just how much it bothered him, “Ah know yer a grown adult, and ah obviously can’t control what ‘ya do in yer free time, but as ahm sure you’ve figured out, we’re all rather fond of ‘ya, and I ain’t no exception. Seein’ you with him? And then having to work with ‘im these past few days?”

The man shook himself, scowling. “It’s like swallowin’ glass.”

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up outside of battle.” the other mercenary said, before reaching out and taking Engineer’s hands into their own, causing the Texan to jolt slightly in surprise, “Look, I might joke around sometimes, but I am one hundred percent loyal to BLU and everyone who’s a part of it. That other Engineer might get me once, but you can have me as many times as you like.”

Chemist winked, and Engineer’s eyes widened like saucers, his mouth turning dry as cotton as any words he might have intended to say died in his throat. The other BLU leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek, and Engineer closed his eyes, burning the sensation into his mind as he swallowed.

“And if you’re still worried,” they whispered into his ear, “you can always leave your mark on me.”

“Careful, Darl’,” he growled lowly, wrapping a hand around their waist, enjoying the feeling of muscle and fat, “you don’t know what yer askin’ for.”

“Oh, I think I do.” they grinned ferally, nipping at the Southerner’s neck. Engineer inhaled sharply and let out a curse, tightening his hold when he felt a warm tongue lave the area lovingly.

Suddenly, the contact was gone, Chemist pulling away with a satisfied grin and leaving the poor Texan stunned.

“You can hang onto the hat for now, but I really do need it back.” they tapped his nose, causing him to blink, “Now, we’re all gonna have that little chat at dinner tonight, so don’t be late.”

And with that, they sauntered right back out the door they'd come through earlier, leaving Engie to try and collect himself. Eventually, he managed to shake himself out of his stupor, a grin coming across his face.

“Well, this ought to be mighty interestin’.”

The conversation at dinner had been, to absolutely no one’s shock, awkward as all hell to begin with.

Once everyone had gotten a plate of food in front of them to stare at when things got too uncomfortable, you started laying out basic ground rules. You stressed, through your many stutters, the importance of boundaries, consent and communication, and you made it very clear that if anyone was at all uncomfortable with what you were proposing, then they were more than welcome to voice that without judgement. You were firm as you warned that if you caught wind of anyone teasing or pressuring another teammate about this was going to lose any and all privileges, as well as getting a face full of acid at any given time.

“Any objections or questions so far?” you asked, taking a bite of your dinner, which was macaroni and cheese.

“If ve’re really going to to zhis, I vould like to propose regular STD tests und use of condoms.” Medic said after a few moments of silence passed in the room, folding his hands in front of him, “Zhis isn’t exactly a closed relationship ve’re talking about here, und I for one vould feel a lot better vith zhat reassurance, zhough I know jou’re all clean as of right now.”

Everyone made noises of agreement. No one wanted to take that risk.

“Do we have to do stuff with everyone? ‘Cause, uh, I definitely ain’t cool with that.” Scout asked, rubbing his arm in discomfort.

“No, of course not.” you reassured, laying a comforting hand over his. “You’re free to be with whoever you want, and you certainly aren’t going to be forced into a relationship.”

Scout relaxed, some of the tension leaving his body. Around the table, a few others seemed to relax as well.

“We will have to keep zhis a well-kept secret. If zhe Administrator finds out, zhen I suspect we will be punished in some cruel and unusual manner.” Spy added, resting his chin on one hand.

“Yeah, she’s real good at that.” Soldier mumbled, still sore over the fact that he’d be tricked and threatened into breaking off the best friendship he’d ever had, one that still hadn’t recovered.

“So no flirting, or anything else, on the battlefield or during work hours.” you nodded, “We’ll save it for contracts, ceasefires, and late night meet ups, I suppose.”

Sniper raised his hand slightly, swallowing his mouthful of food. “And how exactly are we plannin’ on deciding who gets to do what, and when?”

“Scheduling.” you replied, having pondered that very same question, “We’ll come up with a schedule. You guys can draw straws or wrestle or something. I’ll leave how the order gets decided up to you.”

“Battle’s comin’ up in a few days.” Demo said, taking a sip of his Scrumpy, “How’s about we use our performances to decide?”

“Heavy likes that idea,” the large Russian man nodded, “it means I will be first.”

“Hey, woah, back it up, tons ‘a fun!” Scout protested, jabbing his fork in the other’s direction, “You musta hit yer head or somethin, cause everyone knows I’m gonna be the one comin’ out on top, as usual.”

“You? Do something aside from running your mouth and getting shot full of bullets? Please, don’t make me laugh.” Spy snarked, picking at his dinner while side-eying the Bostonian.

“Don’t get too cocky, Spook. God knows yer gonna end up on the hot end of the enemy Pyro’s flamethrower more often than not.” Sniper teased, “Meanwhile, I’ll be rackin’ up kills left ‘n right.”

“Hey Py, ah’ll share mah time if y’ team up with me.” Engineer offered, smirking when the arsonist mumbled in cheerful agreement, giving the Southerner a fistbump.

“Ooh, ve’re making alliances?” Medic perked up, “Heavy, team up with me, ja?”

“конечно, доктор.”

“Oye, that ain’t fair!” Demo shouted, banging his fist down on the table, “Soldier, yer with me!”

“Affirmative!” the American saluted, “We are going to crush each and every one of your pansy asses!”

“This is bullshit!” Scout yipped, realizing that his teammates were absolutely willing to partner up if it meant having a better shot at first pick, “Yo, Snipes, we teamin’ up?”

“Bettah you then Spy.” the marksman leaned over the table and shook hands with the runner. “Alright, jackrabbit, let’s do this.”

“Feelin’ left out, Spy?” Engineer asked, reaching for his cup of sweet tea.

“Not at all.” came the Frenchman’s smooth reply, “I am confident enough in my abilities to not feel zhe need to rely on zhe help of another to win. Unlike you, toymaker, I am not willing to share my lovers.”

“Keep a good hold on that confidence ‘a yers.” the Texan chuckled, “You’ll need somethin’ t’ help repair yer shattered pride once you come dead last.”

You took another bite of your macaroni, enjoying the growing sense of… friendly competition. The next battle was going to be a bloodbath, and you absolutely could not wait to see it.

And, of course, you were very excited to see who came out as the victor.

The sound of gunfire and dying men was like music to your ears as you finally returned to the battlefield. Your limbs ached from the lack of use, and you could certainly feel the strain now, but you welcomed the pain, grinning into your mask as you lobbed another vial at a passing Scout, your smile widening as you snickered at his howls of pain.

Your team was dominating the battlefield today, each member striving to get the most amount of kills. The energy of the battle was even a little bit lighter than usual today, likely due to the fact that the mystery of the Respawn malfunction had finally been solved on the Sunday before the battle.

Apparently, according to Engineer, the issue had been caused by too many units being active at once, which all but confirmed your theory of other teams existing out in the world. It had nothing to do with you specifically, you’d simply been the unlucky bastard who had come through at the boiling point. The information had come as a huge relief, even if the answer had left you with quite a few questions. You would have to ask Miss Pauling about it the next time she came around the base, though you doubted you’d get any real answers. Something told you that, if the other teams had never been mentioned to any of you before, then you weren’t supposed to know about them.

Actually, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut this time. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction wouldn’t be enough to bring you back, if the Administrator decided to disable your Respawn capability.

Shaking your head, you dashed forward, side-stepping the sizzling corpse at your feet. Running across the dry Texas grass, you threw yourself against the side of the nearest building, a smaller, ramshackle barn at the edge of the treeline. From where you stood, you managed to catch a glimpse of Pyro, Soldier, and Engineer taking a new vantage point to set up a sentry, before the arsonist suddenly spun around, blasting a plume of flame at your helmeted friend. You winced, watching as the RED Spy’s illusion melted away, along with his skin.

Well, you supposed you wouldn’t be seeing too much of him today. That was a shame; the Frenchman could be surprisingly funny, when he wanted to be. You’d hoped to get a chance to tease him and see if you could make him blush again, or perhaps some part of you wanted to provide your own Spy with an easy kill.

Just as you started off towards your teammates, ready to help them secure the nearest point, you saw something whip over your head. Before you knew it, your arms were suddenly pinned at your sides, and you’d been tugged backwards, landing on your rump with a sharp yelp of pain. The white cowboy hat that you’d managed to get back from Engineer, which had been sitting snugly on your head, slipped down over your eyes as you were dragged back towards the trees, leaving you blind.

You panicked for a moment, struggling against the tight rope. However, you paused upon hearing a familiar voice, chills running up your spine, both from fear and from pleasure. A gloved hand plucked the hat off your head, the mechanical movement clicking softly in your ear. You tilted your head back, looking up at the man who was holding the lasso that had left you so defenseless.

“Hello there, Darl’.” The RED Engineer purred, leaning against the trunk of one of the apple trees, “Ready to make good on that offer?”

Annnnd that wraps up Respawn Malfunction! Again, big thanks to @pinkypiechar for reading along with me in the wee hours of the morning, keeping me motivated and catching any mistakes I made. You a real one pookie. <3

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levispersonalslave · 7 days ago

Text

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐌𝐫. 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 . . .

Levi Ackerman × Reader, Any Au, Friends to lovers, wc 0.7k, Valentine’s special (ˊᗜˋ*)

‘𝑇𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑,

‘I write to you not in hope, nor in expectation, but in surrender—to unburden a sin I have carried upon my chest for time immemorial. A sin I pray no other man shall ever dare confess to you, and yet I lay it bare before you now: I love you.

‘I find it to be a sin, for what man—least of all myself—could be worthy of such a love? To hold even a fragment of affection for you is to reach for divinity itself, to cup heaven’s light between trembling hands. You are poetry made flesh, a hymn only angels might dare to sing, and yet, despite my unworthiness, my heart beats only for you—a song neither time nor reason can silence.

‘I do not write to plead for your love, nor to beg for your favor. I ask for nothing—only to surrender this truth, to commit to ink what my lips dare not speak, and to leave my soul bare before you. If I am to repent, let it be for loving you too deeply, too foolishly.

‘And should this world part us, if fate should cast me into darkness, I pray the light at the tunnel’s end bears the shape of you—for there is no afterlife worth living without your embrace.

‘But if I am never to have you—if the closest I shall ever come to your touch is the ghost of you in my dreams—then let me ask for only this: may your days be gentle, your sorrows few, and your heart untouched by grief.

‘May joy find you in every season, may the sun warm you even in winter.

‘And if ever you hear my name upon the wind, know that somewhere, in this life or the next, I loved you beyond all measure.

‘Ever yours, in silence and devotion, 𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑟.’

── 𝐿

You’ve read the letter once, twice, and your hands still tremble. You ghost your fingertips over the ink as though it might allow you to reach through the words and touch the heart that has written them. A hitch catches in your breath, and you feel tears slipping down your face—warm, shimmering. Oh, Levi. . .

A choked laugh—half sob, half joy—breaks from your lips. How can he think himself unworthy? How can he not know that your heart has been his long before he had the courage to claim it?

The letter shakes in your grasp as you press it to your chest; it’s as if you hope holding it close can somehow bridge the aching space between you. But, surely paper and ink cannot be enough.

You don’t bother wiping your tears or steadying your breath. You barely remember grabbing your coat before you’re rushing out the door; evening air bites at your skin, your pulse racing faster than your feet can possibly carry you. The world blurs past you, and your only focus is the path that leads to him.

You reach his door breathless—not from the cold, nor from the running, but from the sheer, overwhelming weight of emotion mounting inside your chest. You knock once, twice, thrice—and the door swings open.

And there he is—L.

Your L.

You don’t give him a chance to speak. With a sob of joy, you throw yourself into his arms, burying your face into his chest as your tears soak into his shirt. His arms wrap around you instantly, strong and sure, holding you like you’re something precious—like you’re his.

“I love you,” you gasp, the words spilling from your lips, desperate and unshakable. “I love you, I love you, I love you—”

His breath hitches, and then he’s sweeping you into his arms. He carries you inside as if you’re something weightless, something sacred.

The door falls shut behind you, sealing the world away.

In the hush of the lamplight, he holds you close, his arms tightening as if to make up for all the time lost. You weep softly against his shoulder, your joy spilling over in trembling breaths. He presses his lips to your hair, his own breath unsteady.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. The words are reverent—like a vow, like a prayer, like something he has been waiting his whole life to say. . .

⊱ 𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⊰ @the-traveling-poet , @pinkberryfox , 𝑑𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑑 ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭

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cursedcupcakemaster · 5 months ago

Note

can I order a Poison apple pie and candy violets with and get Spider Cider. With a ghost!reader , this is the same person who requested the other Spider Cider, hope you have a nice day❤️

Of course so we are looking for a deadly friendship with Skully are we ?

Order; Poison apple pie with a side of candy violets and a glass of spider cider

Notes; I do not own twisted wonderland, Skully or the reader,Skully and Twst belong to Disney as well as the brilliant mind of Yana Toboso, reader belongs to themselves, this is just my interpretation of how this would go with the character, reader isn't neccesarily Yuu but if you want to imagine they are you're welcome to, y/n, reader is you

Warnings;yandere, Skully may or may not have killed a few people, implied death

Yandere Skully J. X ghost reader

🪦Best friends forever🪦

You could hardly remember what happened to get you where you are now

A spirit haunting a house that hardly anyone would pass by except for one boy

He was tall and quite pale wjth a rather pleasant smile and sharply dressed at that

Skully would always come to visit you every day when the sun went down and would talk with you about the outside world that you couldn't explore much due to being bound to the house

It always made your afterlife feel just a bit easier to deal with and there was something about Skully that seemed familiar to you but it wasn't really clear what

Sometimes Skully would ask to bury things in the back of the house and you allowed him to but he never really told you what was in the yard

It just made you happy to have some company in your lonely house that wasn't the spiders weaving their pretty webs or the rats scuttling about

Skully would sometimes bring things for you, like teddies or dolls so you could possess it or little trinkets you seemed to like such as music boxes or books that you seemed interested in after he told you about them

The one thing he never really seemed to want to let you see were newspapers

It was odd but you shrugged it off its not as if much of it could really effect you considering you weren't alive

Another peculiar thing was that he seemed to know your house better than even yourself, particularly the attic

There was something about it that kind of unnerved you

Particularly a trunk in the corner of the room, it was a charcoal black and when you tried to phase through it you couldn't do it

It was rather shocking to yiu considering there weren't many objects you couldn't get through but the last time you tried Skully seemed a bit upset and yelled that there was nothing for you go see in there

He quickly changed his tune when he saw the look on your face before

The only other time you saw him act like this was when some punks came in to wreck the place, they smashed photos, the windows, and all the nicer things that Skully had brought into the house

He told you to not show yourself to them and that he'd take care of it

Doing as he said the last thing you heard of those punks were their screams before Skully came up smiling letting you know everything was fine

When you thanked him he said "it's really no problem, you're my best friend after all"

Somehow those words meant something to you, like you'd heard them before

After this incident a few more holes were dug in the back yard

One night Skully dropped something on his way out, it was a small skeletal key and the lock seemed to fit the shape of the odd trunk

Fitting it inside and lifting the lid you saw several things including photos of you, only you were....alive and you had a family

Beside you was a boy who looked an awful lot like Skully both of you wore friendship necklaces in the shape of a skull with heart shaped eyesockets

The photos weren't the only the only odd thing, there were some news clippings including "Teenagers missing" and "Mysterious deaths of local family "

There was one last object and it was a shovel

Going outside you took the shovel with you and began digging

What you found only made you feel ill and grateful you didn't have organs any longer

There were the corpses of the punks that tried to destroy your home, the people that were once your family and finally your own bones, you knew it was yours thanks to the friendship necklace shaped like a skull with heart shaped eye sockets

You felt a chill before you turned and saw Skully and he did not look the least bit pleased

"You finally saw it huh" he murmured

"W-why why would you do this?" You asked your voice dripping with fear at the boy who was once your friend

It seemed your question made him smile at you

"They were going to take you away from me. I couldn't let that happen, as for those other ones they deserved it for ruining our house"

Skully took a step toward yoh making you float backwards until you were cornered against the wall as he spoke again

"Don't you see, I did this all for you that's what friends are for~ and we're best friends forever"

You knew he wouldn't likely stop with his sinister projects unless you agreed to what he wanted

"Skully, please no more ,no more killing if you're really my friend please no more"

Ectoplasmic tears ran down your cheeks making him look at you with his face softening before wiping your tears with his thumbs

"Will you stay with me forever then?" He asked

"Best friends till the end" you replied before the skeleton like boy pressed his lips to your own cold ones

#twisted wonderland #disney #disney twisted wonderland #skully j. graves #skully x reader #Skully x ghost reader #Ghost reader #Yandere x reader #Yandere Skully j graves #Yandere skully x reader #Little bit of haunted mansion inspo because I can~

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j-k-writes · 4 months ago

Text

The Lion of the Trident

Summary - After Rhaegar's defeat on The Trident, Robert and Ned must deal with the Prince's surviving forces, including Y/N Lannister.

Warnings - age gaps (Y/N is about 16/17 while Ned and Robert are 19/20), canon character death, general GOT warnings, ableist language (toward Tyrion), mentions of violence, sexual content

Y/N was awoken to the feel of frigid water pouring down on him.

He shot up, gasping and shivering. He pushed himself further into the makeshift outdoor prison cell, covering himself further in mud. He shook his hair out as the chilled water settled deep into his bones, glaring up at the men responsible.

“I know I stink, but that’s not quite the bath I had in mind.” Y/N’s words didn’t quite land the way he’d hoped with the shivers racking him visible to the men standing over him.

“King Robert wishes to speak with you.”

Y/N laughed, “King? I wasn’t aware Aerys had died?”

The two men didn’t grant the Lannister heir with a response, grabbing his arms and dragging him to his feet. He attempted to jerk his arms free from the men’s grasp, but the days spent chained to a pole with little food and water had weakened him enough that the two men had no trouble dragging him to Robert’s tent.

Realizing he had no choice but to let this farce take place, Y/N steeled himself holding his head high as they walked through the camp. He smiled at the jeers thrown his way, finding himself laughing at quite a few. The days of abuse, physical and verbal, he’d suffered at the hands of the usurpers were nothing compared to the years living in his father’s tight grasp. Perhaps if they set Lord Tywin in front of the young knight he’d have been more forthcoming with his information.

Robert Baratheon looked exactly how Y/N remembered him, towering over every lord in his tent. Y/N’s eyes trailed down the Baratheon’s body, gaze settling on a fresh bandage applied around his torso.

“Sit him down.” Ned Stark spoke, drawing Y/N’s attention away from the Stormlander. Y/N grunted as he was forced into a chair, wincing as the rough wood of the seat made contact with the bruises no doubt littering his body. The two men were dismissed, and Robert and Ned turned their full attention to Y/N.

“While I admire the efforts, you will be getting no valuable information from me.” Y/N spoke, taking in the different reactions from the two men. Ned winced at the reminder of the Lannister’s treatment in the camp, while Robert simply frowned, scowl deepening.

“Has Tywin Lannister declared for the Targaryens?” Robert asked, and Y/N laughed, wincing half a second later at the pain it caused him. Tywin Lannister was still holed up at Casterly Rock with Cersei and Tyrion, leaving Jamie and Y/N to fight their own battles.

“Did you see the Lannister forces at The Trident, Robert?”

“I saw you.”

Y/N smiled, “And you caught me.”

“Are you saying you were with Rhaegar’s forces against your Lord father’s wishes?” Ned asked.

“Which answer would make you less inclined to kick me in the ribs?” Y/N asked, if the two men brought him here for information they might as well get on with it. Y/N wishes to return to bed, finding small comforts in his sleep, as fitful as it was.

Once again, Y/N’s words made the Stark flinch. “I apologize for your treatment, it was not our intention-”

“Save it, Ned.” Y/N spat. “I am not a boy, I know how war works. I chose the losing side, and now my fate lies in your hands. If you’re going to have me killed as a traitor I’d rather you just get on with it, perhaps the afterlife will have less mud.”

Robert barked out a laugh, “Alright.”

“Robert-”

“You heard the man, Ned.” Robert said. “He is of no use to us.”

“If he speaks true,” Robert made to interrupt, but Ned continued on ignoring his friend. “If he speaks true, Lord Tywin has not yet declared for a side. If we have his son, his heir, he may be more sympathetic to our cause.”

Y/N scoffed, “My father has two other sons.”

“The kingsguard and the imp?” Robert raised an eyebrow and Y/N frowned. Tyrion was a child of the House Lannister, and even that it seemed would not save him from the realms scorns. Robert was right in his statement, however, Jamie was a sworn knight of the kingsguard, and his father could not even look at his youngest son let alone declare him heir.

“I am not just some whore who’s body you can sell.” Y/N spat.

“The whispers I hear would say differently.”

“What the fuck are you implying.” Y/N sneered at the same time Ned let out a choked ‘Robert’.

Robert held his hands up in mock surrender, dropping the topic. Ned sighed, turning to Y/N, “I know we are not friends Ser Y/N, but you are a fine knight, and with you and your house’s support behind us in this war we can win.”

“You’re already winning.” Y/N deflated, it was true. Rhaegar was dead, and from Jamie’s reports Aerys was madder than ever. The war was practically over, and Y/N Lannister had chosen the wrong side. “You do not need the support of my father or me.”

“Would you rather die?” Robert asked, his eyes scanning the knight in a way that made him squirm in his seat.

“If I must.”

“You do not have to, Y/N.” Ned sighed, “Work with us to secure your father’s support and we will let you live.”

Y/N bit his lip, sinking in on himself. He knew he had no real choice, they would not kill him no matter what he said, they wanted his father’s army too badly. He could either let himself be a prisoner or he could be an equal with the two men.

“Fine, tell me what to do.”

Jamie had killed Aerys, Tywin had sacked the city, and now the throne was Roberts. Y/N however, instead of celebrating the victory with his father and brother, was in the chambers of Ned Stark, drunk, half naked, and pressed into the mattress.

“Don’t you have a wife?” Y/N gasped as Ned roughly tugged at the laces of his trousers.

“Do you ever shut up?” Ned asked, although his smile as he finally managed to undo the laces undercut any bite put into his words.

Y/N laughed as Ned tugged his trouser down his legs, tossing them to the side. Ned looked up at the man, smiling, and Y/N took the opportunity to wrap his legs around Ned’s waist and flip them over. Ned gasped as his back hit the bed, and Y/N smiled down at him. He leaned down close to his ear, whispering, “No.”

Ned grabbed the back of his head, roughly smashing their lips together. Y/N immediately relaxed into the Lord’s hold, allowing Ned to trace his mouth down his jaw. Y/N gasped as Ned pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone, before biting down roughly. Y/N ground his hips down roughly into Ned’s and the Stark’s grip in Y/N’s hair tightened as a low groan escaped his throat.

“Have you ever shared a bed with a man before, Ned?” Ned paused, giving Y/N all the answers he needed. Y/N hummed, pushing Ned down into the bed. Ned stared up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly, and skin flushed a red that was sure to be unusual for a Northerner. “Let me teach you then, Lord Stark.”

Before Y/N could move however the door to the chambers burst open and the men jumped apart. Ned, still half dressed, threw a blanket to Y/N who quickly grabbed it to cover himself. The men both looked to the door, where Robert, now King Robert, was standing, a jug of wine in hand. Robert did not seem shocked at the sight, an amused smile plastered on his face.

“What do we have here?” Robert said, still smiling. He closed the door behind him with his foot, placing the jug of wine on the table near the door. He took a seat, “Well, don’t stop for me.”

“Robert-” Robert held a hand up, and Ned closed his mouth.

“Are you just going to watch us, Robert?” Y/N said, trying to keep his usual confidence, although he could feel his face burning. Ned made a noise at Y/N’s question, but Robert smiled. Y/N looked to Ned, who’s flush had deepened significantly, before turning back to Robert. “Because the Keep’s beds seem big enough to fit three.”

Robert’s smile widened, and Ned made a noise that sounded like he was dying. On many drunken nights throughout their journey to Kingslanding Ned had confided in Y/N about he and Robert’s youth-fueled escapades, although they had never gone past sloppy kisses Ned had always wondered what it would have been like to cross the line.

“What did you say to him to get him into your bed?” Robert said to Y/N.

“He has gotten me into his bed.” Y/N said. “Although it took him more cups of wine than you to do so, my king.”

Ned looked between the two men, opening his mouth, probably to ask about Y/N’s words, but Y/N stood dropping the blanket and all words died on Ned’s lips. Robert smirked, standing and stripping his extensive layers. Ned stood silently, looking between Y/N and Robert, and Y/N just placed his hand on Ned’s bare chest.

“Get onto the bed,” He whispered to Ned, chuckling when the man stripped himself of his remaining clothing and laid down into the bed. Robert came to stand behind Y/N, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Would you like to teach him or should I?”

“You.” Robert released the man, walking toward the head of the bed. He crawled onto the bed, coming up behind Ned. He grabbed Ned’s jaw, forcing him to look at Y/N as he approached the bed.

“Watch and learn, Ned.”

#x male reader #x reader #x y/n #ned stark x male reader #ned stark #ned stark x reader #robert baratheon #Robert baratheon x male reader #robert baratheon x reader #game of thrones x male reader #game of thrones x reader #game of thrones #got x male reader

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bisexual-horror-fan · 10 months ago

Note

Bexxx my darling. We’ve had the conversation, are horny for the concept so I’m pounding this into the ask box even harder than they’re gonna pound the damn reader.

AU!Billy, Stu, Mickey and Ethan x reader. All alive or as Ghosts whichever is best. All of them going full blown slut on the reader, Stu in the mouth, Billy in the cunt, Mickey in the ass and Ethan in the hand (until he’s not *wink*) . We’ve discussed a lot of it already so GIRL, I know how you’re going to go with this. In advance, poor, sweet Ethan, slutty teasing Billy, supportive icon Stu and Mickey with the GUIDING. I’m going to burst into flames.

I LOVE YOU DUDE!

BITCH, I LOVE YOU! I wrote this all tonight in one sitting, I hope you all enjoy this! Billy AND Stu AND Mickey AND Ethan?! I mean, say fucking less, that is a dream I need to experience. Multi-May continues! I hope you all love this straight-up nasty smut in the afterlife.

---

Rating. Explicit. Length. 1.2K. Poly!Ghostface. Billy Loomis/Stu Macher/Mickey Altieri/Ethan Landry/AFAB! Dead Victim Reader! She/Her Pronouns. Warnings: Five-Some. Orgy. Hair Pulling. Gagging. Group Sex. Hand Job. Oral Sex. Blow Job. Triple Penetration. Vaginal Sex. Throat Fucking. Anal Sex. Pre-Mature Ejactualation. Sloppy Seconds. Multiple Orgasms.

---

"Four In One."

You have never been so fucking full. It was taken right out of your most depraved and wild fantasies, an impossibility and yet here you were, mouth, cunt, ass and one of your hands full.

In the vague haze of your mind, you are reminded of a phrase for being in this exact situation, that being “completely airtight”.

Some people might think that sex in the afterlife is not a thing, however it was one of the most beloved pass times, you have no physical limitations and nothing but time, it only makes sense.

You being a victim that had fallen to Ghostface most would assume you’d hate them. You did at one point. Eternity is a long fucking time, though.

So you got involved with the man who killed you and a few other previous Ghostface’s? It was your business, you were dead, you didn’t care if any other victims or whoever judged you, especially when it felt this fucking good.

They had managed to get you into a good position, and with all of them helping, you didn’t need to worry about holding yourself up, which is good because you were fucking boneless.

Billy was buried in your cunt, Stu was in your mouth, Mickey was in your ass, and you had a firm grip on Ethan. The smell was heady, the chorus of moans and skin on skin was obscene, and you were unable to stay still, being pushed and pulled in multiple directions, covered in sweat and thankful for the fact you didn’t have to worry about breathing.

Stu was pulling your hair, dragging you nearer, your nose pressed to coarse hair, his head tipping back with a moan, “Fuck yes, when you swallow around the head it feels fucking fantastic-” He pulled harder, and you gagged, you didn’t really, but you knew Stu liked when you did, so you mimic it, you feel him throb on your tongue and Billy groans.

“When she gags she clenches beautifully, man.” He breathed and Mickey agreed, “God yeah, she feels fucking perfect tonight.”

You are soaking up the praise, pleasure sinking into the very marrow of your bones, you manage to open your eyes, curious why Ethan was being so quiet, and he is staring right at you and oh no. The poor boy. His curls are sweat soaked, bottom lip tugged by his teeth, face flushed, and it is spreading down to his chest, when your eyes lock he moans, he is pulsing in your hand and Stu notices the moment you, and he were sharing.

“You alright there, Eth?” Stu asked, and the response came out strained, “Feels so good, too fuckin’ good, sh-she looks and God, how she sounds, I-I dunno if I can make it-”

Billy cuts in, his hips slowing, “Oh hey man, you gotta wait till you get in one of her holes at least.”

You nod as much as you are able to with Stu’s hand in your hair and his dick down your throat, you wanted that, you desperately wanted Ethan to cum in one of your holes, Hell you wanted all of them to cum either in you or on you, it was a deep and clawing craving that was refusing to leave.

Mickey’s pace was getting sloppy, he was thrusting harder and harder, faster and being totally selfish in the way only he can be when he is close, fully worried with chasing his own release, you say a silent prayer, happy that your ass could take the punishment he was doling out. “Fuck, fuck, you won’t have to wait long, Ethan.”

Mickey thrusts inside you three more times and then holds deep as he unloads inside of you with an utterance of your name. The rush of heat makes you choke and moan on Stu’s shaft with a shudder.

You stop stroking Ethan, worried that he is going to cum, your hand grips the base of his shaft tightly to ensure he wouldn’t spill over quite yet.

Mickey stays in you for a moment, barely grinding his hips, milking the aftershocks and every ounce of pleasure out of his orgasm. You feel his head tip, his forehead rests on your shoulder, you feel the press of his lips, a kiss, sweet, before he pulls out with a groan, and spreads you, he can see your wrecked looking hole, slowly leaking his cum.

Mickey looks over your body still being rocked between Billy and Stu, and he says easily, “Get over here, Ethan.”

You let go of him, and he practically scrambles to get behind you, almost falling over the tangle of the other boys limbs on the way. Stu and Billy laugh, Mickey shaking his head, “Bless him.”

“So cute.” Stu confirms.

Billy holds still and motions for Stu to do the same, “Ease up while he gets in there.”

The blonde complies and they all watch, Ethan’s hands rest on your ass, and he looks adorably nervous, he is practically shaking, breathing erratic, he looks painfully hard and is leaking so much pre-cum. It’s like he is almost rooted to the spot, staring down at your slowly leaking hole. You push on Stu’s hip, and he allows it, pulls out of your mouth, and you look over your shoulder at him, you clear your throat before saying, “C’mon Ethan, please?”

He curses quietly, and then you watch Mickey come up behind him, one hand on Ethan’s hip and the other reaches around him, grips the base of his cock and says, “Lemme help you out.”

Ethan almost jumps out of his skin, tenses but gives a single nod once, consenting with more than the action, he begs, “Please, yes, I-I want to so bad but, I can’t-.”

“I know man, it’s alright, I got you.” Mickey soothed, and he pushes forward on Ethan’s hip, his other hand guiding Ethan’s cock, the blunt head presses to your nearly raw and well lubed hole. When the tip breaches Ethan comes back to himself, fingers dig into ample flesh, and he pushes, you moan and encourage him, “Fuck yes, please-”

Mickey lets go, his grin is positively wolfish as he watches the show unfold.

Ethan curses again, and he shoves in roughly, about halfway before pulling out, the poor guy only gets less than ten pumps in, not even fully inserted, before he is cumming with a strangled cry, body a quaking, sweat slicked mess. He is apologizing over and over, gasping for breath, “M’ sorry, fuck, sorry, sorry, felt too fuckin’ good, couldn’t stop it-”

“S’ okay.” You reassure as he pulls out, “You’ll last longer next time.”

Billy is laughing and starting to thrust into you again, “Fuckin’ pathetic, man.”

Stu shoved Billy’s shoulder and said, “Oh lay off, you didn’t last much longer first time you got in that ass.”

You giggled, “He’s right, you know.” Stu taps your cheek and says, “Open up.”

Mouth falling open in compliance, he re-inserts, you still had to get the last two off and were eager to do so. You can hear Ethan trying to defend himself to Mickey, “I could feel Billy in her pussy when I was in there, and it was too much!”

“The extra friction will get you, it’s true.” Mickey sympathizes, and you suppress a laugh, trying to focus on sucking the dick in your mouth and moving your hips in time with Billy’s thrusts.

#Slasher x reader #Ghostface x read #Poly!Ghostface X reader #Billy Loomis x reader #Stu Macher x reader #Ethan Landry X reader #Mickey Altieri x reader #BHF writing #Multi-May #ENJOY

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destieltropecollection · 10 months ago

Text

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 1: Angst with a happy ending

,,Me too." | @tami-ryver

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 1,748

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, Hunt Gone Wrong, Werewolves, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Major Character Injury, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Angelic Grace (Supernatural), AngstAngst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blood, Fictober 2023

Summary: The silence is unbearable. Not even insects can be heard in the darkness, not even moon shines down on their path. The only source of light they have are the flashlights they took from the Impala. Armed with silver knives and the demon knife, they walk deep in the darkness of the forest, in search of the place where the massacre took place.

I Want You to Know That I'm Awake (I Hope That You're Asleep) | @starstiels

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 2,192

Main Tags/Warnings: depressed!dean (heavily implied), post-canon, grief/mourning, hurt/comfort, first kiss, selectively mute dean, mental health issues, panic attack

Summary: Dean Winchester wants to cry. He wants to scream and yell and sob until his lungs give out and his eyes sting like needles.

The Covert Identity (WIP) | @rowanspn

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,623 (22,561 updated)

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, FBI Agent Sam Winchester, Florist Castiel (Supernatural), Crime Boss Lucifer (Supernatural), Kid Fic, Kid Jack Kline, Blood and Violence, Graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Dean Winchester loves his job; working as a secret agent has its perks. There is nothing quite like the thrill of saving people and hunting down criminals. And with his baby brother Sammy at his side, it’s a family business. However, when he and Sam are assigned to the case of Lucien Shurley, a suspected crime lord with a rap sheet a mile long, Dean’s semi-predictable life takes a turn for the unprecedented and over complicated. He and Sam must go undercover to investigate Lucien’s own family, his brothers Gabriel and Castiel, and his young son, Jack, to find out just how involved they truly are. As the stakes rise and the body count follows, it is up to Sam and Dean to solve the greatest mystery of their careers; who is Castiel Novak and what does he know?

he's gonna take my files | @autisticandroids

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6,191

Main Tags/Warnings: Dean Saves Cas from the Empty, Afterlife, Triangulation of Desire, Memories, Trauma, Hurt Cas, Canon Divergent, Canon Remix, Warnings in Author's Note

Summary: Dean goes to the Empty, where Cas is floating through his memories.

when doves cry | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 6,821

Main Tags/Warnings: Human Castiel, Season/Series 09, Not Canon Compliant, Winchester Coping Mechanisms, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: When Dean asks Cas to leave the bunker, all he can do is hope that the fallen angel is safe and doing okay. But when he reaches out to Cas to check in, he's surprised by the anger he's met with. Forced to consider whether or not he made the right call, Dean must reckon with how to fix things between him and the man he worries he may have lost forever.

Forest Fever | @amaranthhiding

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8,586

Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Post-Ep 12x10, Monster of the Week, Hallucinations, Injured Castiel, Protective Dean, (Emotional) Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, Praying, Angel Grace, Humor (mostly in the epilogue)

Summary: After the crushing events of episode 12x10 "Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets", Castiel is low on grace and morale. In an attempt to restore at least one of these two, Sam and Dean take him on a hunt. Things start going wrong when Sam gets injured and Cas seemingly disappears. They get worse when Dean turns from hunter to prey for something feeling far more at home in this dark, rainy forest than he does.

Send Me a Postcard | @blessyourhondahurley

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 10,387

Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel is Saved from the Empty, First Kiss, References to Depression, Bisexual Dean Winchester

Summary: Shortly after his rescue from the Empty, Cas hits the road late one night without telling anyone he's leaving. Two weeks later, a postcard arrives for Dean.

whisper your name without making a noise | @deancaskiss

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 12,577

Main Tags/Warnings: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester, Eileen Leahy, Muteness, Mute Dean Winchester, traumatic mutism, Mutism, Major Character Undeath, Dean Winchester to the Rescue, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel, Pining, POV Dean Winchester, Kissing, Boys Kissing, French Kissing, Rough Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Drinking to Cope, Drinking Alcohol, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Getting Together, Dean Winchester is Not Okay, Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 15, Fix-It, Character Death Fix, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Romantic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Takes Care of Castiel, The Empty (Supernatural), the handprint, Dean Winchester's Jacket

Summary: Losing Cas to the Empty felt like Dean was losing a piece of himself. I love you, Cas had said; and then he was gone before Dean got the chance to tell Cas how he felt. But Cas might have taken more than just Dean’s heart when the Empty ripped him away. Cas is gone, and so is Dean’s voice. Traumatic mutism: according to Sam and Eileen, Dean had been through a traumatic experience losing Cas and now he was mute. So, Eileen taught Dean sign language, and Sam bought notebooks for Dean to write out his thoughts. But Dean never stopped aching for Cas; praying to him every day and searching for a way to bring Cas home. When Dean finds a way into Empty, it’s a fight like he’s never fought before. Scream, Dean, scream, the Empty taunts. But Dean can’t stop until he’s rescued Cas, kissed his angel breathless, and told Cas the truth about how he feels—voice or no voice.

Taking one for the team | @artichokegarden

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16,846

Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Stanford Era, Sex Worker Dean Winchester, Dubious Consent, Voyeurism, Kink Negotiation, Kink Discovery, Praise Kink, BDSM, Spanking, Whipping, Bath Sex, Hair Washing, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Abusive John Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, POV Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Porn with Feelings

Summary: Cas blinked slowly. “Your father sent you to his friend’s sex club as bait for a sex monster. And you want me to find your lost memories of this for you?”

“Don’t you start, Cas. We need to find out what happened, or those women are as good as dead. If I wanted to listen to a load of crap about dad’s parenting choices, I’d have told all this to Sam in the first place, instead of biting his head off for asking. Let’s just agree he wasn’t winning father of the year for this one and let it go, okay?”

When women start going missing from sex clubs, Cas investigates Dean's memories of a Stanford-Era case and finds some secrets there that could help their relationship in the present.

this bitter nightcall | @abi-cosmos

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 32,514

Main Tags/Warnings: Djinn curse, Jealous Dean Winchester, Hallucinations, Unreliable narrator, Heavy angst, Implied Castiel/Mick Davies, Inappropriate smut, Dean doesn't know what's real, Love confessions, Post-season 12, Very brief almost major character death, Hurt/Comfort, Case fic, True love's kiss

Summary: Dean gets touched by a djinn, but it's all cool. Or, is it?

Forced to confront his desires, Dean's grip on reality slips. Leaving Castiel, Sam, and Mick Davies trying to find a way to save him before it’s too late.

If only they knew that the cure is right in front of them.

Gracefully Yours, Always | @thefandomsinhalor

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 39,815

Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent, Episode: S09E10, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Temporary Blindness, Angelic Grace, Hurt Dean

Summary: As Dean hopelessly waits for Gadreel and Crowley to be expelled from Sam’s body, he and Castiel are unexpectedly ambushed by Malachi and the remainder of his soldiers, seeking retribution for what Castiel has done to his faction. Because Castiel gets gravely injured in the fight, Dean resists the urge to isolate himself, and instead returns to the bunker with his friend and Sam, determined to put an end to the fallen angel madness, and also, perhaps, try to understand why, after everything he’s done, Castiel still stands by his side.

Still Waters Run Deep | @thisisapaige

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 41,168

Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Divergent After s15e09 The Trap, Hurt/Comfort, Mute Castiel, Mark of Cain, Aquaphobia, Claustrophobia, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester

Summary: In the darkest depths of the ocean, sealed into the ma'lak box with Chuck trapped behind the Mark, Castiel loses the battle against God's rage. When Sam and Dean find Castiel on a dark patch of highway— the Mark missing and his grace weak— he cannot speak.

It rains. It rains and it rains and it rains. It is a Great Flood.

In order to stop God, save the world, and resolve the issues simmering between them for years, Castiel and Dean need to communicate.

Perhaps they should build an ark instead.

When I Knew You | @friendofcarlotta

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 54,272

Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Time Travel, Bartender Dean Winchester, Editor Castiel, Mutual Pining, Minor Character Death, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Incorrect Science, Social Anxiety, Sharing a Bed

Summary: Shortly after moving into his new house, Dean Winchester finds a strange, flickering light in the middle of his living room. When he touches it, he’s transported two years into the past, to the days when a man named Castiel Novak lived in the house.

Dean’s own time pulls him back eventually, but the gateway to the past keeps appearing, and Dean keeps visiting Cas — sometimes for minutes, sometimes for hours. They soon fall in love, but there is no possible future for them, for one simple reason: in a few weeks, Cas is supposed to die.

As the date of Cas’ death draws closer, will Dean be able to save his life? And if he does… will the two of them find a way to be together in the same time?

On the flip side | Joysprings (AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up

Word Count: 64,357

Main Tags/Warnings: Lgbtq, Polyamorous characters, Blood and Injury, Time Jumps, Neurodivergence, Autistic Castiel, Emotional Abuse, Pilot Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, Grief and Mourning, Temporary Character Death, Domestic Destiel, Dean and Cas are dad's, Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending I Promise,

Summary: A little over a year after airforce test pilot Dean Winchester's plane crashes and goes missing, its finally found. Castiel Winchester, Dean's widowed husband reflects on his grief and his memory re visits the most significant points of their relationship throughout their time together and how they shaped the present. The whole family is left to deal with the resurfaced trauma from the initial accident, and will finally learn about what truly happened, uncovering new and unexpected answers. This is their journey.

(Story will alternate chapters from the present to past time stamps)

the weight of your bones | Chi_Yagami (Ao3)

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 66,780

Main Tags/Warnings: afterlife, soulmates (sort of), canon divergent, hunter Dean Winchester, human Castiel, kid Jack Kline, angst with a happy ending, touch-starved, flashbacks/discussions of death, panic attacks

Summary: After rescuing his brother's fiancée from a house fire he doesn't survive, Dean Winchester finds himself in Heaven. He's immediately suspicious—after all, with everything he's done during his time on Earth... there's no way he deserves to be here. He lives in a beautiful neighborhood right down the street from his parents, in an amazing house that he shares with his new soulmate, Cas—a man Dean's never even met. Despite Dean's best efforts to keep his distance, Cas seems determined to make their new relationship work in the afterlife.

However, Cas doesn't understand... he isn't aware of Dean's past. Cas doesn't know that all Dean's good for is destroying relationships and ganking monsters. Cas doesn't know that Dean once got an innocent civilian killed on a case, doesn't know of the cave that haunts Dean's dreams. People are made of memories they bury or live by, and Dean chose to bury his a long time ago.

But as Cas chips away at Dean's resistance... the once-forgotten bones begin to surface.

When Tomorow Comes | @teeparadigm67

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 78,994

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Season 15 rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst, Lots of Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester Saves Castiel from the Empty (kind of), Dean Winchester is Protective of Castiel, Dean Winchester is Saved, First Time, Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, Castiel's Loss of Angelic Grace, Dean Winchester in the Empty, First Kiss, The World is Saved, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester's Taste in Music, Sharing a Bed, Frottage, Men of Letters Bunker, Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Happy Ending, Alternate Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15

Summary: When hunting for the Leviathan blossom, Castiel gets taken. Tired, desperate and wanting to tell him all the things left unsaid before it’s too late, Dean prays to him. But he realises... standing there, in the grey hellish landscape, the portal home flickering just beside them with seconds left on the timer, they're already were too late.

Running himself ragged fuelled solely by caffeine, whisky, and that trademark Winchester determination, he will find a way to stop Chuck and to save Cas. However, this isn't the blaze of glory Dean had always envisioned going out in. But, deep down, he would go out swinging to save a loved one. Those bright shining penetrating tear-soaked eyes are the last thing he sees before his vision is marred, the desperate plea of his name dampened by the black ooze filling his eardrums as the essence of the Empty wraps around him and pulls him pulled from existence into the dark.

All because of that simple prayer, the ending Chuck had always planned was rewritten.

The Unbroken | @casblackfeathers

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 126,551

Main Tags/Warnings: zombie apocalypse, bed sharing, hurt and comfort, angel castiel, protective dean, soft dean, endverse, bamf castiel, bottom dean

Summary: Dean’s life had been made of running. He ran from a curse that had desolated his life ever since he was a child — whenever he got hurt, he turned into a goddamn human-torch, killing everyone around him — and he ran from himself and his own self-loathing.

But managing all that at the end of a world full of Croats lurking around every corner was easier said than done.

Until a mysterious man with tousled dark hair paired with blue eyes as clear as the sky during a hot summer’s day stopped him from free falling, literally. In one fell swoop, the stranger had not only saved his life but also calmed the wildfire threatening to burn everything in its wake.

There was something about Castiel that made Dean want to stop running but also hid something darker — something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. And between soft, pillowy lips and feather-like fingerprints, Cas could very well shatter Dean’s world and maybe help save the whole world in return.

Fortunate Son (WIP) | @friendofcarlotta

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 128,610

Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Vietnam War, Character Death (but no MCD), Blood and Injury, Counterculture, Recreational Drug Use, Mutual Pining, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Period-Typical Homophobia, Coming Out, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Getting Back Together, Suicidal Thoughts

Summary: The year is 1966, the place is Kansas, and Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are falling in love. But with Castiel under the thumb of his conservative parents and Dean set to ship out to Vietnam, there is no possible future for them.

As Castiel’s life turns upside down and the hell of Vietnam threatens to swallow Dean’s soul, it will take everything they have to find their way back to each other. But some things are worth waiting — and fighting — for.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #angst with a happy ending #destiel #fanfic #supernatural

221 notes · View notes

jessamine-rose · 9 months ago

Text

⋆˚♱ଘ Annular Eclipse ଓ♱˚⋆

A long time ago, I binge-watched The Ancient Magus’ Bride and that decision came back to haunt me in my Church AU…… *evil laugh*

As always, thank you to @diodellet for beta-reading this piece!! And to my dear mutuals, I hope you all suffer enjoy the sinful story of Cartaphilus! Pierro x Angel! Darling ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭

Tw:: yandere, blood, violence, death, suicidal ideation, religious abuse, MDNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 5.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Among God’s creations, His favorite is granted a special fate. Though all lives end in death, only humanity is blessed with salvation and afterlife. Those who live righteously may thus ascend to Heaven, whereas sinners are condemned to eternal suffering in Hell. There is, however, one exception—a fragment of humanity whose sins may never be forgiven.

♡ Legends speak of Khaenri’ah, the nation of sinners. Once the pride of humankind, its citizens challenged God through their creations in alchemy and technology—and the entire nation was subsequently destroyed in a sea of flames. In the wake of the Cataclysm, pollen from the Tree of Life rained down upon the survivors, afflicting them with their final punishment, immortality.

♡ Since then, Khaenri’ahns have roamed the mortal plane in a perpetual state of living. Denied a place in Heaven and Hell, they are cursed to live forever no matter what harm befalls their body and psyche. Due to their wicked reputation, they must also live in fear of their once-fellow humans, lest they face persecution. For this reason, eternity differs among Khaenri’ahns, with a unique fate reserved for the one who goes by the name of Pierro.

♡ After the Cataclysm, Pierro led a group of survivors to Snezhnaya where they established a new home. For three centuries, it was a peaceful haven hidden from the divine gaze of God and the Church…until it was exposed by a traitor and destroyed with manmade flames. In the ensuing chaos, Pierro was the sole “survivor” in the sense that he managed to escape. The rest were critically wounded, buried alive, and left to suffer for all eternity.

♡ Having lost his second home, Pierro began a search for other Khaenri’ahns, only to be further disillusioned. Many communities had also fallen to ruin, if not from persecution but by their own madness. Others, blinded by dreams of death, had resorted to violence and witchcraft in their fruitless attempts to break the curse. And several individuals had embarked on quests for the Tree of Life, only to disappear far away from their homeland. In two more centuries, Khaenri’ah was reduced to a forgotten myth, and Pierro had lost all hope for his people.

♡ So when he gets into an accident, he sees no point in saving himself. If he were younger, he’d be horrified at the thought of falling off a cliff. At best, he’d end up with more scars albeit another permanent reminder of his tragic fate. As for the worst-case scenario, he’d become paralyzed, trapped below the cliff, doomed to eternity as a living corpse. But now, hanging off the edge by his fingertips, he considers the possibility that his head takes the brunt of the impact. A coma would be the closest thing to a reprieve from his waking hell.

♡ Just as his grip weakens, a hand reaches out and catches his wrist. The action is so sudden, so forceful, that Pierro has no time to think before he is pulled up and his back hits the grass. Above him, eclipsing his view of the sun, is the face of a stranger. A tearful expression. A kind gaze that seems to pierce through his soul.

“Are you hurt? Why didn’t you call for help?! You poor thing, I’m sorry for only seeing you now.”

“I am…” He averts your gaze and instead focuses on the sky. It is the color of twilight—a harmony of blues, oranges, and reds that pale in comparison to the crimson skies of his nightmares. “...fine. Thank you for your kindness.”

♡ Once the shock wears off, Pierro takes a careful look at his savior. You have the appearance of a typical human, roughly the same age as he was when his body stopped aging. Definitely not a Khaenri’ahn, given your lack of cursed marks and star-shaped pupils. Neither are there any religious symbols on your clothing, which is a relief. As for your tears shed on his behalf…he’ll chalk it up to pity.

♡ At your insistence, you treat him to a meal at the nearest inn. When Pierro introduces himself as an ordinary traveler, you make a similar claim and suggest journeying together. It is a tempting offer—the both of you are alone with no destination in mind, and you seem harmless. So against his better judgment, Pierro accepts your proposal.

♡ Over time, he warms up to his new companion. You are kind, competent, a bright presence in his life. Traveling with you is like seeing the world with new eyes—you lead him to bustling cities, picturesque forests, places teeming with life. The only downside is your visits to the Church for prayers and chats with the local priests, but you at least seem to be an open-minded believer. You always tell Pierro that he doesn’t need to follow along but he does so anyway, if only to evade suspicion and admire the religious art with you.

♡ Other than that, you don’t reveal much about yourself. But you aren’t one to pry into Pierro’s past so he gives you the same courtesy. At times, he finds himself looking at you fondly, feeling a spark of physical attraction, dreaming of a happy future with you. But those delusions are always dashed by the fact of your humanity, so he instead resolves to cherish what little time you have left before death claims your soul.

♡ That was his goal until he begins to notice certain…oddities. It’s common for the two of you to share a tent, a room, sometimes even a bed. Neither of you are fazed by it, especially when Pierro’s main concern is concealing his cursed marks with makeup. But a few months into your travels, he makes a quiet realization: In those nights of shared slumber, not once has he fallen asleep without feeling your gaze on him.

♡ At first, he assumes that you merely sleep later and wake up earlier than him. But every time Pierro wakes up in the middle of the night, you immediately sit up and tend to him, acting as energetic as usual. Neither do you appear lethargic after nights when it is difficult to sleep. So he puts it to the test by regularly chatting with you late into the night; you always follow along, not once sounding tired nor in want of sleep. Once, he talks to you all night long and in the morning, while Pierro is plagued with fatigue, you look perfectly awake. And only when he subtly points it out do you yawn and go back to bed.

♡ Other mysteries follow. There is the time the two of you trekked through a barren wasteland and ran out of food. It took you two days to reach civilization and while Pierro was starving, you never complained about hunger. If anything, you still managed to walk and fight off beasts at your usual energy levels. And on the rare chance that Pierro is injured, you are the one who treats his wounds…and they always heal at an unnaturally fast pace.

♡ A year into your travels, he decides to look for answers. One night, he shares a bed with you and feigns sleep. For the next few hours, he just lies there and takes note of your unnatural way of sleeping—no slowed breaths, no involuntary movements, yet the persistent feeling that he is still being watched. Shortly after midnight, he pulls out a dagger from under his pillow and aims it at you.

♡ It was only a test to see if you’d react quickly and reveal your ruse. Which is exactly what you do, eyes fluttering open and your hand catching the dagger before Pierro can stop short of stabbing your chest. The look on your face is calm, utterly devoid of fear, and you make no move to leave the bed. You just stare at him with the same piercing gaze.

“Good morning,” you tell him. “Are you going to explain the sudden wakeup call? I don’t believe this is rooted in any Khaenri’ahn practices.”

At the mention of his homeland, Pierro’s grip on the dagger tightens. “So it appears that my suspicions were not unfounded. Answer me, are you a spy of the Church?”

Your answer is a benevolent smile. A soft light shines from your body as a halo—silver, pierced with nails—appears behind your head, followed by a wispy veil. Luminous wings emerge from your back, caging Pierro in a feathery embrace.

Your hand, marked with a bloodstained scar, wraps around his wrist.

“I’m your guardian angel,” you whisper.

♡ Technically, your statement is untrue. In a calm voice, you explain that Khaenri’ahns can’t be assigned guardian angels due to their immortality. Moreover, most angels harbor contempt for his kind though you are a rare exception, having taken pity on Pierro and chosen to become his unofficial guardian. The last part triggers an offended response—are you mocking him?

♡ As for your true nature, you’re the leader of the Archangels. As an angel of the Third Sphere, you are one of the closest to humanity, a divine messenger with the additional tasks of providing blessings and guiding humans towards the path of righteousness. Only, you’re currently on a ten-year “break;” it just so happened that you noticed Pierro at the start of your sabbatical.

♡ Once he is confident that you won’t smite him in cold blood, he goes to sleep—it’s been a long night and fatigue will only dull his senses. When he wakes up, he can almost believe that last night’s events were a dream…until you loom over him in your true form, wishing him a good morning. After a long conversation, he decides to continue traveling with you. That way, he can keep a close eye on you and gain some useful knowledge.

♡ Thus resumes your journey. In addition to Pierro’s distrust, there are major changes to your dynamic. You still travel in your human guise but you switch to your true form when it’s just the two of you. Since angels don’t need food or sleep to sustain themselves, you stop eating with him unless you’re in public. At night, only one bed is needed and you simply watch over Pierro, wishing him a peaceful slumber. Your gentle gaze is always the last thing he sees each day, though it takes months before he can fall asleep comfortably.

♡ He also learns about your nightly pastimes. As it turns out, while Pierro is asleep, you like to fly around the city to help lost souls. Just small acts of kindness in your human form…and if needed, divine interventions in the Church. It explains why he often wakes up to news about corrupt priests who experienced “visions of an angel” and publicly confessed their sins.

♡ Along your journey, you also stop by the homes of the humans previously assigned to you. At the beginning of each visit, you go to the cemetery and speak to their grave. Afterwards, you bring Pierro to their favorite places and reminisce about their lives. When he asks why you can’t simply see them in Heaven, you give him a sad smile and explain that the deceased reside in a realm beyond the jurisdiction of angels. In a paradise where every soul is purged of sin, what use is there for an angel’s guidance?

♡ You mourn the lives of angels as well. It comes as a shock to Pierro, the idea that even an angel is susceptible to death. To which you explain that many of your divine siblings were killed by demons. And because afterlife does not exist for spiritual beings, both species simply cease to exist once their lives have ended. As for your former brethren, they cut all ties with you after their descent.

♡ Slowly, Pierro grows to trust you again. It helps that you were able to prove yourself a year later by saving him from your own kind. Granted, he could suspect that it was merely an act but the sight of a Principality cowering before you, their cassock staked to the floor by silver nails, is quite convincing. Not to mention your cold gaze overflowing with wrath.

“So tell me. Why exactly did you attack my dear human?”

The room is silent, save for the younger angel’s whimpers. To think that a few minutes ago, Pierro had been sleeping peacefully. Now he stands beside you, blood trickling from a cut under his scarred eye, still gripping his unused sword.

“I…” Despite being a rank above you, his attacker is clearly terrified. “But ______, that man…he is one of the accursed sinners! He—”

“Now, now.” You kneel to their level but all kindness is lost in your tone. More nails appear out of thin air, all pointing towards the angel’s body. “Look me in the eye when I am talking to you.”

♡ In the end, the angel kneels before Pierro and begs for forgiveness. He accepts their apology, but not without harsh words and a swipe of his sword against their face. After they leave, you worriedly turn to Pierro and heal his injuries. Thanks to your powers, all of his wounds close up without a trace. Still, when you take your hand off his face, what he sees in the mirror is not his healed cheek but the cursed marks exclusive to Khaenri’ahns.

*✧･ﾟ

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Despite the nature of the attack, you are the one acting emotional. A tear rolls down your cheek as you trace the cursed side of Pierro’s face.

“You need not apologize on behalf of your brethren,” he mutters. He glances at his right arm, sleeve pulled up to reveal a similar pattern of blue veins and blackened skin. “...or your Heavenly Father. And I believe I’ve told you countless times not to waste your tears on me.”

“Still.” Shaking your head, you look him in the eye. “How can I not cry every time I gaze into your soul? I wish I could save you, put an end to your suffering…but it’s beyond my capability.”

“So why do you still devote yourself to me, ______?”

______. It is the false name you go by in the human realm, spoken by every person who has known you as their guardian angel. As for your true name, it remains a mystery to Pierro.

Still, he’d like to believe that he is the human who knows you best. He knows that you are the First Archangel, one of the oldest beings in existence. He knows that you were opposed to the Cataclysm but powerless in stopping it. He knows that your decade of rest was caused by an accumulation of stress, an endless cycle of giving and saving and sacrificing which will only continue in a few years’ time.

And what then? At the end of your journey, will you still have time for him? Or is he truly cursed to drift aimlessly in eternal solitude?

His half-mask rests on a nearby drawer, a relic from his second home. He picks it up, thumb pressed against a painted gold tear.

“You astound me,” he continues. “You, of all people, know that salvation is forever beyond my grasp. And yet you continue to spare me absolute grace. Anyone else would have deemed me a lost cause.”

“That is because I love you.”

At that, Pierro nearly drops his mask. He turns to you, starry eyes wide with wonder. “Can you kindly repeat that?”

But the moment he sees your face, he realizes his folly.

“I love you,” you tell him, a soft look in your eyes, “as I love all humans.”

Has kindness ever sounded so cruel?

“...I understand.” He puts down his mask, pride shattered. “Such is to be expected from a being for whom the love for humanity is inherent.”

A love which he and his compatriots are no longer beholden to.

“But of course.” At that, your countenance turns reverent. Your wings fold inwards, and you place a bloodstained hand over your chest. “An angel’s purpose is to serve God and to save His creations. Beyond that, there is no other point to our existence.”

Silence. This time, Pierro doesn’t bother to hide his judgment.

“Well, that is our initial reason,” you add, noticing his expression. “After all, what’s not to love when your kind is capable of so many wonderful things? Really, you never fail to surprise us.”

“How so?”

“I’ll confess, many of us angels were once in awe of Khaenri’ah,” you admit. “Think of it: Your people found a way to create life, sorcery, powers that were once exclusive to God. Had I met you during your days as a royal mage, I surely would have been impressed.”

Hard to say. Despite his previous status, Pierro hasn’t practiced Khaenri’ahn sorcery in years. It’s likely that his powers have eroded alongside his spirit.

“Then only a century after the Cataclysm, there was the Angel-Killer who performed miracles using our flesh. As a matter of fact…I made the mistake of assigning his first victim to him.”

Your grief isn’t lost on him. The bed creaks as you take a seat next to Pierro, adjusting the chain of mourning lockets around your waist. It bears mementos of both humans and angels.

“Thirteen angels lost their lives to him, including two of my dearest siblings. Needless to say, we were all relieved when Il Dottore finally died, though I had to be given a century’s worth of rest to recover from grief. Sohreh, Pasithea, Oizys…I still think of them to this day.”

Il Dottore. He is an infamous figure in history, a priest whose sins rivaled those of Khaenri’ah. And yet even he was granted the mercy of death.

“And there are the humans I was blessed to watch over,” you tell him, eyes shining with tears. “I remember all of their names, their smiles, every achievement they made in their short lives. And I’m sure that there will be more in the future.”

That is the final nail in the coffin.

“You are right.” With that, Pierro leaves the bed. “As such, there is no need for you to dwell on how the world is now. I have no doubt that many souls owe their salvation to you, ______, and anyone would be a fool to dismiss your efforts.”

“...Thank you. It means a lot.”

You don’t let him leave, however. A hand around his wrist is all it takes for Pierro to stop, to yield to your embrace. In the dim room, you are the only source of light, an idol of unparalleled benevolence. Divine, beautiful, yet never within his reach.

“Eight more years,” you tell him. In your eyes, his reflection has never looked more hopeful. “That is the amount of time we have left. And until then, I will never leave your side.”

*✧･ﾟ

♡ The next eight years are content. More travels. Deep conversations. Peaceful nights. Another angelic encounter, in which a subordinate merely reported to you and avoided Pierro’s gaze. At one point, you reveal to him that the Tree of Life is no longer in the human realm, eliminating any hope of breaking the curse. His devastation is softened by your comfort, and he can only imagine the reactions of his compatriots if they knew this truth.

♡ Not that he has anyone to share it with. In the Church of Fontaine, Pierro is surprised to recognize the head priest as a Khaenri’ahn. She is only a descendant and thus spared from the curse—a blessing for Arlecchino, a tragedy for her ancestor who likely mourned the generations between them. After their chat, Pierro leaves without divulging her lineage. It’s enough to know that one of his kind is leading a fulfilling life, though he finds it ironic that a Church ended up in a Khaenri’ahn’s hands.

♡ Other than her, there is the familiar face he spotted in Inazuma. Blond hair, blue eyes with star-shaped pupils, a distinctive half-mask…but before Pierro can approach Dainsleif, you grip his wrist and enable him to see the eagle-winged demon clinging to his former comrade. In a fearful whisper, you explain that she is one of Hell’s strongest demons, the slayer of countless angels. And when she turns in your direction, Pierro feels the weight of her crimson-gold glare. In the end, the two of you walk past them, preventing what could have been a bloody reunion.

♡ As your sabbatical reaches its end, Pierro finds himself making the most of your remaining time together. He smiles at you, holds your hand first, asks you more personal questions. Your travels also end in a surprise destination—a forest near Snezhnaya, concealed with divine mist. Leading the way, you explain that it was a meeting place for you and your closest siblings until they all perished, including the Virtue who created it. And when you turn to Pierro, asking if the area suits him…he accepts the gift with full gratitude.

♡ The last year is spent constructing a humble house in the heart of the forest. On the day of your departure, the two of you enjoy a final meal together. It’s bittersweet with recollections of your travels, though the mood dampens when Pierro asks about your angelic duties. With a sad smile, you tell him that you have a lot of work to do. At some point in your journey, you even laid eyes on a young human and applied for a position as their guardian angel.

♡ At midnight, Pierro goes to bed and you wish him good night for the last time. He only closes his eyes when you disappear, when he no longer feels your gaze on him, when the residual warmth of your embrace has been chilled by the night air. When he wakes up in the morning, you are nowhere to be found.

♡ In the following months, Pierro develops a new routine in the forest. Hunting, foraging, visiting the neighboring cities, admiring the aurora-colored sky, even practicing his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. He doesn’t see you again but there are hints of your visits—a luminous white feather, seeds for fauna exclusive to Mondstadt, a wound that healed overnight. Eventually, he gets used to sleeping in solitude again.

♡ One day, he decides to visit his old home. He knows it is futile to seek out his people; after two centuries, their bodies must’ve fully decayed and mixed with the soil. Still, he might as well see what the Church did with the area…and if he can take revenge on the traitor. So he packs his bags, leaves the forest, and travels to the other side of Snezhnaya.

♡ …There’s nothing left. When he reaches his destination, he finds a glorious city built over the mass grave of his people. Only the cold of eternal winter welcomes him back, but the entire city—the devout Snezhnayans, the stories of the city’s origins, the magnificent church in place of his old house—is unfamiliar. Not even the traitor remains. Perhaps they, too, were given a coffin, forever trapped below layers of ice and concrete.

♡ He gets an answer on his way back to the forest. Near the border of Snezhnaya, Pierro is ambushed by a group of heretics…and when he demands an explanation, their leader holds up a preserved eye, the pupil shaped like a four-pointed star. As their fight continues, Pierro deduces their motives—to achieve immortality using the flesh of Khaenri’ahns. It’s pure mockery to hear those fools refer to his curse as a blessing, but his warnings fall on deaf ears as he is outnumbered.

♡ Just as he is about to lose hope, a bright light shines above him. It’s you, in all of your angelic glory, commanding the heretics to let him go. Most of his attackers fall to their knees, in awe of your divine presence, but their leader interprets it as a sign that Pierro is truly the person they’re after. They swing their sword at him…only for their entire group to be impaled by your nails.

♡ It’s a bloody sight. But once your wrath has subsided, you fly down to Pierro and check his condition. You’re incoherent, healing his wounds with trembling hands, apologizing for your late arrival. He assures you that he is fine, only to be interrupted by a sudden ray of light. But this one is blindingly bright, coming from the sky, the same holy light which shone upon Khaenri’ah during the Cataclysm.

♡ It hits him just then: In harming those humans for his sake, you’d violated one of God’s orders. Yet in the midst of His divine wrath, you muster a false smile and tell Pierro to go home. Then you fly up into the sky, disappearing above the clouds along with the holy light. He does as he is told, but not without killing all of the heretics to ensure that they won’t come after him or more Khaenri’ahns. As for the traitor…he doesn’t bother to ask for their location.

♡ The forest is the same when he returns. The next few hours pass by in a blur—unpacking, checking the animal traps, cooking dinner, and so on. The whole time, he can’t stop worrying about you. He doesn’t know if God would listen to his prayers but he tries, anyway; it’s not like he can help you in any other way.

♡ He goes to bed early, only to jolt awake when a flash of light illuminates the bedroom. When he rushes to the window, it’s just in time to see a falling star. It shoots through the sky, outshining the auroras, a beautiful sight if not for the fact that it seems to be drawing closer to him. It disappears from his range of vision, followed by a deafening sound and a severe earthquake. Then the world falls silent, returning to its tranquil state.

♡ After a few minutes, Pierro leaves his house to investigate. Seeing how the meteor bypassed the divine barrier of the forest, he doubts it was a natural phenomenon. You once told him that the Fourth Order of angels, the Dominions, are in charge of the celestial bodies—could they have been ordered to destroy his third home?

♡ Thankfully, the destruction is limited to a crater at the edge of the forest. But instead of a meteor, he finds you curled up in pain. Fragments of your halo pierce your body. Your right wing is gone; all that remains of it are clipped feathers and sawed bone. Most prominent are the curved horns jutting from your head, covered in a mix of blood and torn skin. You became a demon.

♡ Your half-conscious cries prompt him into action. Carefully, Pierro carries you to his house and treats your wounds. When he notices your hand on your stomach, he remembers what you said about demons needing food and sleep to survive. So he heats up some soup and feeds it to you; and once your hunger has subsided, he tucks you in bed. In your delirium, you can only muster a single sentence before falling asleep.

“Pierro? I’m sorry…it’s my fault, not yours.”

“Silence. We may talk tomorrow. But tonight, you must rest.”

♡ That night, you sleep for the first time. Pierro watches you all night, checking your pulse every so often. When you wake up, the sun is high above the sky and Pierro has already cooked lunch. You’re more coherent now, able to feed yourself, though you wince in pain every so often. And when Pierro asks about your descent, your expression darkens.

♡ In a shaky voice, you explain that the heretics’ ambush had been a test from God. It was fated to occur at the same time as an important event in Heaven, the decennial meeting between God and the leaders from all Nine Orders. As soon as Pierro’s name was brought up, you were quick to defend him. And when you were informed of the attack, you stormed out of the meeting to save him, fully aware that it would bring about your downfall.

♡ And despite it all, you’re the one apologizing to him—for your late arrival, for the danger he was put through, for the “burden” of taking care of you. At the last part, Pierro finally finds the words to chastise you, to say that you won’t achieve anything by wasting your tears on Heaven.

“I wish you would not think so lowly of me. After all these years, do you truly believe that I would harbor anything but gratitude towards you?”

♡ That shuts you up. For the next few weeks, you meekly accept Pierro’s care—he cooks for you, dresses your wounds, lets you sleep in his bed. There is only one problem: Your body refuses to heal. Blood continues to seep from your wounds, and you’re in a perpetual state of pain. Still, he faithfully tends to you day and night. It’s the least he can do for you.

♡ One day, he leaves the house to pick fruit and comes back to find a dark silhouette in his bedroom window. He rushes inside, armed with a weapon, to find a demon. Only, they’re kneeling by the bed, holding your hands, shedding tears of joy. That is when he notices the bloodstained scars on their hands, their tattered veil, your kind words for them…they, too, are a fallen Archangel.

♡ All peace, however, is dashed when your former subordinate tells Pierro that they are bringing you “home,” in other words Hell. As for the matter of your health, they claim that while your divine punishment is unheard of, they should be able to find a cure…from Il Dottore of all people. And despite your conflicted expression, it’s clear that you are seriously considering their invitation. Only for Pierro to take that choice away from you.

“And what makes you believe that I would allow ______ to leave our home?”

♡ Prior to you, Pierro never would’ve dared to challenge a spiritual being. But now, after all he’s been through, he takes a step forward and tells the demon to leave. It doesn’t take long for their argument to turn physical. But before the demon can smite him, Pierro defends himself with his Khaenri’ahn sorcery. They’re a formidable opponent, however, and the fight continues until he aims a galaxy-like aura at their heart. Quickly, you protect your former subordinate with a shield of rusty nails, only for the element to refract and hit you instead.

♡ Much to everyone’s relief, however, it has a different effect on you. Your feathers take on a black tint and a deep blue iridescence. The same thing happens to your horns. Most importantly, all of your wounds close up, leaving scars identical to Pierro’s cursed marks. And when he rushes to your side, asking if you are all right, you breathily tell him that you feel so much better.

♡ That is what convinces the demon to leave, but not without promising to return once they’ve informed the Devil. With peace restored in your home, the two of you go downstairs for lunch. You still need Pierro to support you, but it’s the first time you’ve managed to walk in your new form. And your appetite is bigger, healthier compared to your previous portions.

♡ After a few days however, the effect wears off. Your body loses its blue luster, your feathers fade to their original color, your pain returns. Once you’ve fully reverted to your original state, Pierro decides to try out his Khaenri’ahn sorcery again. This time, he holds your wrist and carefully channels his power into you…and it produces the same healing effect.

♡ For the sorcery which doomed his nation to save the life of his beloved…the irony leaves him at a loss of words, on the verge of laughing. But it does explain why you landed in Pierro’s home instead of Hell, and why God allowed the two of you to reunite. The knowledge brings a dark smile to his face. You’re at his mercy now, dependent on him for all eternity.

♡ When he faces you, he can tell that you’ve reached the same conclusion. Still, you entertain the thought of moving to Hell—surely, there must be a way for you to live without forcing Pierro to expend his energy on you. That is when he grips your hands, pulls you towards him, and tells you that you aren’t leaving him. If the two of you are truly fated to suffer, then it is only right that he returns all of the love you have given him.

♡ It’s easy to persuade you. After all you’ve experienced, you’re tired so you just nod and lean into his embrace. And in the following days, you slowly adjust to your new life. You help Pierro around the forest. A new bed is built, to fit two people. At night, the two of you engage in your usual bedtime conversations but you’re the one who falls asleep first.

♡ When your former subordinate returns, Pierro stands his ground. With you asleep, he is able to fight them outside and easily subdue them; he even had the wisdom to enhance his weapons with blood from your used bandages. And with his argument that any attempt on his life is equal to risking yours, they have no choice but to accept your situation.

♡ You’re still asleep when he returns to your shared bedroom. Careful not to wake you, he changes out of his bloody clothes and leaves his sword on the table, next to his old mask. Then he takes off his glove and traces your features with his cursed hand. And when you open your eyes, the look he gives you is one of pure hope.

“Pierro? What time is it?” you mumble.

“Far too early,” he replies. “Go back to sleep. I will join you shortly, ______.”

“...All right.” Yawning, you snuggle into the pillow and close your eyes. “Can you wake me up later? I don’t want to oversleep again.”

He smiles, caressing your cheek. “If you wish.”

It doesn’t take long for you to return to the world of dreams. Your sleeping face is truly a wonder to behold—an expression so tranquil, well-rested, vulnerable to his kiss.

“And when you awake, I want you to tell me your true name.”

♡

More Church AU here!! Dottore ๑ Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving characters or dynamics not included in my masterlist.

..…Don’t ask me how Pierro ended up with the highest word count in this AU. All I can say is that it was very cathartic to make him suffer, which is a recurring theme in his fics. If y’all enjoyed his story, do let me know (๑･̑◡･̑๑)

Also, soft launch for the next couple + story!! I’m rlly excited to write for Dainsleif, and just know that he’s in for a lot of surprises <3

Tag a Pierro enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @naraven @euniveve @stickyspeckledlight @harmonysanreads @oofasleep @mistymem0ryy @lazyroseart @teabutmakeitazure

#pierro #pierro x reader #yandere pierro x reader #yandere pierro #yandere fatui harbingers #fatui x reader #genshin x reader #tw: yandere #tw: dark #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: sui ideation #mdni #g/n reader #jessamine-writing

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damn-stark · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 27 The field of stars

Chapter 27 of Moonlight

A/N- And when I say she’s depressed would you believe it?

Warning- talks of pregnancy, angst, FLUFF, fluff, and more fluff, and SPOILERS!! FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, long chapter.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 491-515

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

You’re still in that lake. Even if you’re miles away, you’re still there in the cold water in search of Aemond.

He hurt you, he betrayed you, he killed your family, he indulged the darkest parts of you, and he didn’t listen, but you’re still there, searching, hoping that by some miracle he survived that blow to the head and is coming to meet you when the reality is that you need to let him sink in the depths of those shallow waters.

“May I come in?”

Cregan.

You get up from your seat to give your back to the entrance and draw in a deep shaky breath whilst you wipe the tears off your cheeks and rub your nose before you exhale, and invite him in.

“Yes, come in.”

The flap opens and his heavy footsteps find themselves inside before they stop and the flaps close behind him.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he takes in the sight of your back to the entrance.

You nod softly and rub your nose with the back of your hand before you turn and face him, feigning a smile. “I’m just…letting these twins get their kicking in. They’re pretty restless right now.”

Cregan meets your gaze right away before you avert it and manages to catch the redness in your eyes left behind by tears, which means you were crying. Again. It was the third? Time he’s caught you crying. About what? He has an idea, but his jealousy of a dead man doesn’t let him accept it.

“Maybe it’s all that gold aligning your gown,” he says with a teasing tone and a smile to accompany his rather serious face. “It’s weighing them down even more.”

“Pft,” you scoff and flash him a second of a smile which isn’t much, but he managed to get something out of you and he’s proud of that.

“Unless they want to meet in the afterlife then they need to get used to it,” you quip and he walks in with his head hanging low as he speaks softly but with every word laced with frustration.

“It hardly protects you.”

And there it is, what he’s been holding back.

“It protects me enough,” you rebuttal and walk back to sit on the cot, catching him shaking his head stiffly and tapping the wooden post with his knuckles as he shares a frustrated chuckle.

“But that’s not enough for you is it?” You point out as you watch him make his way to you.

“If I could I would throw you in a carriage and send you to your mother,” he retorts and snaps his heavy gaze on you. “But alas your dragon would eat me alive.”

You flash him a smug smile and quip. “I’m not my brother, I would use my dragon to intimidate you.”

Cregan holds your eyes with that heavy intensity that doesn’t move you, not now. He notices that so he eases and sits down beside you without furthering the argument. Instead, he chooses to slide his hand over yours to gently cup it.

Now rather than matching his fire, you feel the need to cry as you feel his comfort and don’t feel his frustration radiating off him. However, even if tears prick in the corner of your eyes, you hold yourself back by inhaling sharply and instead focusing on another matter.

“They really are kicking,” your voice quivers no matter your efforts. “Feel,” you say and pull your hand out from under his to cup it and lift it off the bed to press it against your side.

“That’s Daenerys,” you let him know. “She’s smaller than her sister and has developed a little bit behind her, but she’s still feisty,” you share with a growing excitement. “You feel her?”

Cregan focuses on the little flutters and a smile flashes on his face as he feels who you’re talking about kicking like she has somewhere to be.

“Yes,” he says breathlessly. “Yes, I do.”

You beam at your belly and the moment you do Cregan sees a glimpse of it and can’t help but watch you instead. Yet it’s while he’s admiring you that a thought that’s been building up in his mind makes itself loud and present, managing to escape the depths of his mind and slip past his lips before he can even think about stopping. “These twins…are they mine?”

And just like that your beaming smile dies and the contact you had slips as you shift away.

“I have been thinking about it,” he continues to say and makes you uncomfortable. “And it would align. We lay together before you left the North, and that was seven months ago, so tell me while we’re alone if these twins are mine.”

You get up from the cot and bring your hands together to start fiddling with your rings. “Cregan,” you warn him, but he gets up and goes after you as you wander away.

“It’s okay, I won’t tell a soul,” he tries to assure you, but that’s not what you need. You need him to stop.

“Just tell me. I can protect you. I will protect you,” he keeps saying, causing you to stop fiddling with your rings to turn around sharply instead and grab his biceps to make it clear to him.

“These twins are Aemond’s,” you press, but not because you know that for a fact, but because what other choice is there when you don’t know? What other choice is there when he was your lawful husband when you slept with Cregan, and even thinking that the twins could be bastards could get you and them killed?

“It aligns with him too so they’re his Cregan.”

Said man clenches his jaw and his eyes start to harden, but he doesn’t seeth or hiss, he talks in a colder voice, but he’s still very gentle. “Are they? You do not need to lie to me. No one will know. No one will hurt you. Not while I’m alive, so tell me the truth. Confide in me.”

His words have a way of enticing you even through the persistence you try to hold so he won't question you about it any further.

“Cregan,” you mutter and fight hard with yourself to not indulge him, to not get his hopes over something you don’t even know, but as he looks at you with those grey eyes of his, and as he tells you with a look alone to trust him; how can you not give in?

“I don’t know,” you whisper and slide your hands off his biceps. “Maybe one of them can be yours, but I don’t know.”

Cregan’s eyebrows briefly meet together as he’s overwhelmed with confusion over what you just said. “What do you mean by one? Is that even possible?” He asks.

You shrug. “I don’t know,” you repeat yourself. “But maybe it is possible and maybe just one of them is yours, but I don’t know, I won’t know until they’re born or not at all.”

His confusion heightens to the point he can’t think of anything to add.

“But Cregan listen to me,” you press further and lean in so you’re all he sees. “Even if one is yours. Even if they both are, the truth of the matter is that they won’t ever truly be yours. Not by name, and not under the law or the eyes of the gods because when we lay together I was married, so they will always be Aemond’s. They will have the last name Targaryen even if they happen to look like you.”

This time that confusion he did feel slowly leaves his face and a deep ache replaces it. “Will they?” He mutters back even if he knows how things have to be. “How do you intend to hide that? If they look like me?”

You swallow back nervously and share the solution you have had in mind since you realized that the twins or one of them could be Cregan’s and can come out looking like him. “My grandmother was half Baratheon, they have dark hair, and Alicent is a Hightower, they have dark hair too. She’s red of hair because of her mother, but Hightower’s tend to have dark hair. That’s what I will say, it’s what I have to say unless you want me to die.”

Cregan backs away with his head slowly falling and he shakes it lightly to give your comment a response.

“But that’s only if they come out with dark hair, if the gods are good they’ll have silver hair. They need to,” you whisper against your fingers as you gnaw on your fingers, making him drag his eyes up to meet your gaze with a deep sorrowful look that aches your heart to see.

“Cregan,” you whisper and reach out for his arms, expecting him to back away and storm off like Aemond would have, but he lets you grab his arms and actually holds your elbows to talk through his pain.

“I know how things have to be, but it doesn’t mean I will take away my protection. If they are mine, or if one of them is and she looks like me, I will protect her with my life. You know that,” he says sweetly, making you smile at him and lift your hand to stroke his jaw.

“I know,” you say back softly.

He hums and cups the hand you have on his face before he parts his lips to try and utter two certain words, but he then stops as he sees the remnants of your grief clinging to your eyes.

“Forgive me,” he blurts. “You were grieving and I was selfish. I’m sorry.”

You gulp and nod in agreement. “You know,” you laugh dryly. “Aemond and I used to have these terrible fights. He never would hurt me, but they were nothing like this. We…just…had so much to say. So much going on…” you trail off and lower your head, letting Cregan caress your knuckles in an attempt to comfort you even though you’re talking about someone who still makes him seeth.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble and slowly face him. “That’s the last thing you want to hear.”

He scoffs. “He was your husband,” he says out loud. “And he’s gone now. It’s alright.”

You sigh with relief and glance down, mustering a faint smile as you watch your belly. “What would the people say if they keep seeing you walk in my quarters, Lord Stark?”

He scoffs. “What would they really think with the condition you’re in?”

You giggle and he watches you with a smile.

“I’m just a friend taking care of his Princess,” he reassures your worry. “That’s all.”

You draw out a heavy breath and then meet his gaze to offer him a soft and comprehensive nod. “That’s right.”

He lets out a small breath and finally shares what he was supposed to share in the first place. “The Lord of the Keep is ready to meet with you, so whenever you’re ready we can walk in to meet with them.”

You nod. “Okay, I think I’m ready now. Should I change into a different gown? One with no protection since it is heavy?” You tease, causing him to flash you a charming smile.

“Funny, I’d rather have you wear it than see you without it,” he retorts and walks around you without losing the attention of your gaze as you follow him with your eyes—“I’ll let them know you’re ready then so we can move on quickly and hopefully arrive at our next location by nightfall so you may rest.”

Since you know you won’t change his mind you nod in agreement before he walks out and leaves you to your lonesome, letting you put on a golden headpiece that has pearls dangling over your forehead before you take Blackfyre with the intention of hanging it over your shoulder, but as you hold the pommel you lose yourself on it and for the first time, question taking it with you, and ask yourself for a fleeting moment why you want them to fear you?

You look at your reflection painted on the Valyrian steel blade and remember how loved you wanted to be if you had been chosen heir since the beginning. You wanted to be loved and looked at with admiration and hope. Now what is hope? And can you really be admired when people can’t even meet your eyes?

Hm.

Alas, the thoughts are fleeting. You force yourself to push them away before you secure the sword over your shoulder, thinking now that you need a prettier sheath, one that looks good with your gowns. Maybe you can replace the strap with a golden chain?

It would hurt, but it wouldn’t ruin your entire outfit. The black leather just stands out against the lilac…

Whatever.

You step out and get greeted with a small squadron of men lined up and ready to accompany you, which is courtesy of Cregan and Ser Cane’s over-protectiveness—Their need to make sure you’re protected aligns so no detail is left out.

“Here, I can carry the sword,” Ser Cane immediately offers his assistance and doesn’t fret, he reaches for it, albeit you then step back so he doesn’t grab it.

“What if I need it but I can’t get it because you’re carrying it?” You query with a quirked brow.

“Well,” he sighs. “If you happen to need it would be after our squadron of men is dead,” he says and makes you smile. “And that’s not going to happen, but just so you may be assured, I will be right behind you at all times.”

“Like a shadow,” you tease and start to let the sheath slip off your shoulder. “Maybe you should smile then, Ser, so you may be less intimidating.”

“I’ll smile when there's a need for it,” he retorts, making you laugh.

“Okay, okay,” you roll out and hand him Blackfyre. “Let’s go.”

He hums and just as promised he’s right behind you and honestly it’s one of the best comforts when you're far from home.

“Addam, did you figure out what you’re going to say?” You ask the man as he makes his way to your side.

“Yes,” he affirms and right away finds Lord Stark as he catches up to you both. “Every question has a response. You need only step in if they keep refusing.”

It’s better that way, nowadays you tend to respond too bluntly, and with impatience and anger which doesn’t bode well when you’re trying to convince a Lord or Lady to lend some of their fighting men to your army, so it's good that Addam is glib of tongue. He says he isn’t but he took after your grandfather in that aspect, they’re both so good at talking to people, at reassuring them, and or convincing them to do something they need.

You can admit that you have never had that skill, you grow impatient too quickly and tend to get right to the point. It’s a skill you need to practice especially now that you’re heir…

It’s still an unbelievable title.

It's so surreal after wanting it for so long and only having it in your deepest desires. But now that you wear the title in all its glory, you can’t muster a single flicker of glee for it. It’s too heavy of a title to find much pride or joy in…which would have upset your younger self.

Honestly, if you think about that girl, all you feel is grief. The life you always wanted was never in your reach like you thought it was, it turned out to be an illusion, and as you think about that now and think about who you were, all you feel is sad and bad for that girl with her head in the clouds. If you could you would tell her to come down to see what you do now, terror in the eyes of the people you wanted to love you.

It’s so loud and striking in everyone’s eyes. When you enter the hall of the rather small keep, and walk down an illuminated path made of fire posts that stand tall and proud with their dancing flames, all you see is their fear; it stands out behind the flickering flames, just like you stand out to them more than the raging flames they know you mingle with; and not in some graceful way like the sun against a blue sky, you’re like a terrorizing ball of fire that brings only destruction and death.

There’s nowhere to hide from something so rageful, but they find comfort in the shadows, letting the dancing flames only consume your presence and the presence of those who accompany you.

“My Lord, my Lady,” Addam greets the head of the house sitting before you in their wooden chairs set in front of even more fire that keeps the hall warm.

“We are honored by your greeting,” he continues and bows his head, letting you stand tall in the middle of the path, demanding their immediate respect that they give by getting off their seats and kneeling to you. And all without meeting your eyes; not even when they stand back up or offer you refreshments and something to eat. Their eyes dance around you. It’s such a noticeable thing and maybe it's because you pay all your focus on the way they all look at you, but you can see it clearly. All the awe and admiration are non-existent in their eyes. Even as you stand under the illuminating firelight in the dark hall, all they see is someone to fear, and someone to be cautious about. They see all that you feared people would see, and it makes the bright firelight dim in your eyes.

“…we still grasp onto the hope that the rightful ruler will win the war and end this tyranny,” you catch the Lord of the Keep saying after tuning out the conversation they had while you were lost in the looks behind the flames.

“No,” you blur, causing Addam to slowly look at you with panic after not expecting you to utter a word since you were so quiet—“there’s no such thing as hope.”

A heightened tension grabs a tighter hold around everyone’s throats at the sound of your tragic words.

“We alone pave our own path. Hope has nothing to do with it,” you share and cause a sadness to strike in Cregan’s heart as he hears you say words he thought you would never say.

“…and it’s why we will win. Your assistance will just make us stronger than ever before,” you say and at last the eyes of the Lord find a way to fall on you without strain, seeing the way you illuminate so hauntingly against all the glimmering fire.

“But it's not a guarantee?” He rebuttals. “If I give you my swords will it be a guarantee? I already lost so much with the previous wars, what makes this one any different?”

You draw in a deep breath and roll your shoulders back as you slowly point your nose in the air to show your arrogance. “Addam and I will be fighting with our dragons this time. That’s the difference.”

The Lord taps his fingers on his armrests and looks to Addam as if thinking over what he had said for a moment before he sits up straight and nods. “So be it. I will give you the fighting men but leave a handful to protect my home.”

A weight can be felt lifting off the room as the Lord does what everyone hoped he would do to avoid being bathed in dragon fire in the same way your Kinslayer of a husband terrorized the Riverlands.

Actually, if you’re being realistic, if you sit and think about the reality, that’s why the Lord was so easily swayed because he feared you turning his family and his home to ash. That fear painted such a beautiful picture in his eyes and the eyes of everyone that was in that hall.

Then again maybe it’s because as the day passes all you can do is think about how clear and easy it was to see, like fire in the darkness.

You would ask yourself why if you were oblivious, ignorant too, but you’re not either of those things, you know why they fear you, you basked in that persona. But the question that you do ask yourself is if you want them to keep fearing you...

You look at the fire. You admire its beauty against the night-consumed earth swallowing everything in darkness but the piece of land you sit on, and know that you don’t want to give up the power you hold, and why should you? Men don’t have to give up anything to appear less threatening, people welcome that aspect from a man, so why don't they welcome that from you too? You’re in a war, you can’t just sit by and do nothing while you have a dragon and the ability to touch fire without getting hurt. You have to take advantage of it, so why can’t they love you despite it?

Why do they fear you? What can you do to appear less threatening and rageful, and more warm and trustworthy instead?

Then again can fire be anything but the embodiment of rageful, threatening, hot, and untrustworthy unless it's snuffed out or starving?

“You’re not meant to be out here all alone,” Addam interrupts your moment of silence, causing you to crush the dry flower you were burning to ash in your hand before you slowly peer back and watch him make his way to your side on the piece of land you're plopped on.

“I have Blackfyre and my fierce need to protect myself,” you try to assure him, but that doesn’t ease his annoyance. “I’m not far from camp,” you add and drift your eyes away to watch the fire burning on your torch instead as he falls on his ass beside you.

“And it’s secluded.”

“So you say,” Addam remarks. “One of the men said there’s a lot of bandits in these parts. What would be of you if they kidnapped you?”

“Well,” you sigh and pull the torch off the ground to stick it at your other side so you can lie down on the ground. “…They would either blackmail Cregan or my mother for money to release me. Or I would have watched them burn.” You shrug mindlessly and watch him take his turn to lie down next to you.

“Quite an easy day huh?” You change the subject and smile brightly as you watch Astraea and Seasmoke fly overhead.

“Yes, it was,” he agrees as he folds his arms behind his head and watches the sky with you. “Considering the Keep is small I thought they would put up more of a fight, but they gave in without a fight. Maybe that’s why I got that vision of bringing you along. The gods knew your presence would make it easier.”

You let out a dry chuckle and shake your head in protest. “They fear me,” you mutter almost shamefully. “I don’t fill them with inspiration. They are scared of me. It was obvious.”

There’s a moment of silence that creeps over you and Addam. It lingers, letting you have no other option but to watch as the dragons dance with the stars as they fly high in the sky.

“They fear the unknown,” Addam finally shares the thought he was carefully forming; a thought so pure and sincere that there’s no hint of malice—“they fear all the things they hear, that version of who you are, but it’s not who you are. As long as you know that you keep trying to prove that to them. That’s all you can do, you can’t beg them or force them, just keep trying to be the person you are, not the person they hear about. Or else you’re more of the same.”

And he would know that. He was a smallfolk up until a couple of months ago when he bonded with Seasmoke.

“So no more walking through fire?” You question him as you turn your head to look at him, making him then look at you as he feels your stare.

“No, no.” He shakes his head. “We’re still at war, just be less…Aemond. Be more you, who you were.”

You scoff and turn your head away. “You did not know Aemond,” you remark and watch the dragons again, but this time you watch them flying out of view.

“No, but I knew of him. He sounded like a terrifying man. Who burns their own brother?”

“Someone who was bullied all his life by that same brother,” you defend Aemond quietly as you can feel the jabs of pain by just thinking about him. “He was not…scary,” you say and swallow back the lump that was forming in your throat.

“I’m sure he wasn’t to you,” Addam begrudges you, keeping you quiet instead of trying to argue with someone who wouldn’t understand. No one would.

Thus you leave it be and admire the sky until slowly you let your head loll to the side to slowly take Addam in and watch him as his eyes and mind get lost in the cloudy night hiding the sea of stars, but not dull even for a second that glimmer in his dark eyes. He carries not the moon and the stars, but the warm sun that’s missing so often in this part of the country. He carries warmth that could melt the frost that blankets the earth in the early mornings…just like Jacaerys could.

He is everything your brothers were, being with him is like having a part of them back. He could never fill the void they left, but he is a reminder of that warmth your brother's death took from your soul. And it’s because of that reminder that you know you can trust him with the dire request you need to ask of him.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” You ask with the person you trust the most with this matter.

“Of course,” Addam says without hesitation or truly knowing what you’re going to ask for.

Even still, you continue. “As you know I’m seven months along with these babes,” you start saying and slowly have him turning his head toward you—“and something I learned from my septa when I was young was that twins sometimes come before nine months. So…maybe in a couple of weeks I might give birth, and with that comes a risk.”

“Yes, I know,” Addam says breathlessly as he thinks about the tragedy of birth. Yet he hasn’t grasped the full picture when it comes to twins so you interrupt him.

“No, when it's twins there’s a higher chance for me to die,” you say without a pause, just a small crack in your voice. “And if that happens, if something happens to me on that birthing bed and the babes come out looking like...” You trail off for the first time and take a deep breath as if what you’re going to say is weighing you down. But then that’s because it does.

“…Cregan,” you finally give Addam that insight he had been missing, and what he had been suspecting since the moment he saw Cregan and you reunite—“I need you to take them, mount Seasmoke and fly far away.”

This time Addam sits up in a flash and stares down at you hard, making you slowly push yourself up and meet his gaze with desperation instead of shame or anything else that you might feel when admitting that you cheated on your husband, and now want Addam to run away with your children.

“Aerion will be taken care of by my mother, but the twins,” you insist with a vulnerability he can clearly hear in your voice. “If they turn out to be Cregan’s and I am not here to protect them they could be killed, or live their lives ostracized and belittled. And without me in their lives to protect them and scare those demons away, their lives will be a waking nightmare.”

Addam’d face falls, losing that initial shock and surprise and instead showing his concern and confusion. “But what of Lord Stark?” He can't help but ask as if that’s not something you have already thought about. “He can protect them, and your mother can and would too.”

“Did you not hear me?” You quip. “No matter where they live, their lives would always be about them being bastards. And I know it’s my fault, I am to blame for sleeping with a man that wasn’t my husband, but…they don’t deserve to pay for my sins. And I know my being here wouldn’t change much, but at least I could protect them. I would be the face of all the people’s scrutiny, but if I’m not here…if something happens to me, I need you to take them. I need you to protect them and raise them. Promise me.”

Addam’s disbelief looks like a raging storm behind his brown eyes while you look into them, so you quickly look away, missing the way his face falls before he shares his disbelief. “But why me? I know that even if we win this war with our efforts, the people won’t look at me differently. I will always be a bastard, so I understand your need to protect your children from that, but….why do you trust me to take care of them?”

You tilt your head down in an attempt to meet his gaze with a softened look of your admiration. “Because you’re a good man, Addam,” you reassure his insecurity. “Because you have a good heart and you’re everything my brothers were, and everything I want my children to grow up to be. That’s why.”

Addam slowly picks his head up, meeting your gaze to share his gratitude with his glistening eyes and a small smile.

“You would risk your life so if you don’t want to take this responsibility say it, I won’t be offended and they would be looked after either way. It’s just a precaution, a path that I am willing to take, or have someone take.” You add for his own benefit. “Or if you want to consider it, just tell me.”

Addam averts his gaze for a moment, looking around thoughtfully before his gaze hardens and he looks at you with a fierce dedication. “I will do it,” he says and catches you by surprise with how quick he was to make such a heavy decision that should have taken him days to weeks to decide. Especially because it comes with so many risks, and so much sacrifice for someone he’s known for such a short time.

“You mean it?” You ask, and he offers you a sweet smile.

“Of course. I know how it feels to be ostracized, I know the looks and all the bad that comes with it,” he says, causing your own face to fall as your heart sinks deeper.

“Then it makes me a terrible mother for putting my children at risk,” you mumble so it’s barely audible, but he catches what you said and quickly rebuttals.

“No, unless it was on purpose,” he rolls out so you can trail on with an explanation.

“No,” you do as he wanted you to do. “When I lay with Cregan it was not out of malice to get something out of him or to possibly fall with child. I was lonely and he was there. He was everything I needed. He was all the love I left behind, I didn’t think of it as a payback against Aemond for killing Lucerys. Cregan was and is a light in the darkness so no it was not on purpose.”

“Then no,” Addam assures you while also finally understanding the connection between Cregan and you. He at last understands the lingering looks and stolen glances, he understands why you dance around each other when you talk, and finally understands Cregan’s protectiveness that made him appear like a threatening wolf trying to keep Addam away from what Cregan cherishes the most.

“It doesn’t make you a terrible mother,” he continues sweetly. “A bit thoughtless? Yes, but you’re young and you love him.”

“I did not love Aemond any less,” you quickly explain yourself as if that makes the situation any better.

“I know, you don’t need to explain it to me. I know.”

You nod faintly in comprehension and sink down on the ground to once again stare off at the flames dancing on the torch as you still feel so terrible for possibly putting your twins at that risk after seeing how your brothers were treated all their lives.

“But what I don’t understand is why you’re taking precautions when you know you’re going to live past this war,” Addam finally shares his thought out loud.

“Alys says our lives are already a story,” you say as you keep looking at the fire. “Everything that will happen is already set, but…I can’t rely on that knowledge when I have not lived it yet. I need to think of it as a possibility or else I will get caught up in it and live mindlessly.”

Addam hums and you hear him shift against the grass. “If that’s so then…if I die—”

You snap your head toward him and shoot him a pointed glare. “Don’t say that, Addam.”

He puts his finger up and interjects right away. “If I die, return me to Driftmark. I want to rest by the sea, not in some wetlands.”

You keep passing him your glare and grumble. “Tumbleton are not wetlands.”

“Swear,” he presses and disregards your comment.

You roll your eyes away but you still throw out your response. “I’ll do it, but I don’t believe you’ll die.”

“Oh—”

“Because I’ll die first so you can miss me,” you cut him off and laugh quietly. “You’ll miss my siren song. Who will fill your heart with such amazing music then?”

Addam scoffs and chuckles dryly, making you look over at him with a smile.

“I have yet to actually hear you sing,” he remarks. “So until then, it’s all a myth.”

You raise a brow and nudge his arm. “Don't worry I’ll bless you with my song soon enough. Not now though. We should return to camp now.”

You proceed to try and push yourself to your feet but with all the extra weight you struggle, causing Addam to jump to his feet swiftly and then grab your hand to assist you in your endeavor.

“Yes let’s,” he follows up by saying. “I wouldn’t want someone to be lurking about the woods ready to rip me to shreds,” he teases you about Cregan and you can't help but let out a fake laugh—“really, he’s got this really piercing stare. I feel like he’s devouring me.”

“If his stare is piercing then he can’t really devour you, more like…pierce you,” you correct him, causing him to stop as he’s grabbing Blackfyre for you to stare deep into the abyss of your soul.

You proceed to swipe the torch off the ground first and then catch him staring with a judgmental look that makes you giggle without fault.

“You sound like the maester,” he grumbles. “And very snobby too.”

“Oh haha,” you feign your laugh and kick dirt at him, but he doesn’t react, he shrugs and stays true to his word.

“You are very snobby and pretentious, you know that? It’s a miracle you don’t float away with your nose always stuck in the air,” he says as he mocks the way you talk.

“My other great traits keep me anchored,” you play along and spin around to start walking back to camp with him behind you.

“Aha, your big head.”

You snort and nod eagerly. “Exactly!”

——

*SOMETIME LATER*

Days pass and between that several miles have been crossed that bring new Keeps of Lord and Ladies you only knew by name. All who are different in their own way, for example, in the way they speak, the way they greet their guests, the way they carry themselves, and the different arguments they bring up when met with the demand to lend their swords to your army of men. However, no matter the differences, they all share a key similarity in their eyes, and that is fear.

They all look at you like you’re wildfire, a spark they need to be cautious of and keep calm so it doesn’t develop and consume everything in its path. It’s only because of Addam’s glib tongue that they find some ease in their choice, so you’re grateful for him. What would have this journey turned out to be without him you have to wonder.

You probably wouldn’t have inspired as many Lords and Ladies to lend their fighting men. You are like the push Addam’s speeches need, or like the threatening dragon in the back guarding him. But you alone wouldn’t have persuaded them like him. You would be here with Cregan and his army, that's something you’re certain of because you still would have tried to make it right for your mother, but you wouldn’t be greeted with open arms or curiosity.

You also would be in the forest, that’s something you are also certain about. You would be out under the cloudy sky, breathing in the brisk air, listening to the birds chirping in the trees they call home, avoiding the mud to not get dirty, taking breaks as the twins are getting heavier by the day to carry, and you would have your bow and arrow out to stalk a fish as you wonder if killing it to eat it is really right.

You look at the fish, you admire its pretty blue scales glimmering under the water's surface, and can’t build the courage to let your arrow go. It doesn’t feel right, so you loosen your aim and rest the bow against your swollen belly to watch the fish instead.

Only, in the minutes that follow you gasp when the blue fish turns around and swallows a smaller fish whole, causing you to quickly change your mind and pick the bow back up to let the arrow go and hit the fish before deciding to retreat back to camp with the single blue fish. And once you are back in camp you come to find Cregan and Addam walking and talking together so you waddle toward them and announce your presence by throwing your arm over Addam.

“My dearest uncle,” you greet him and earn both of the men’s attention.

“You’re back, and with,” he pauses and you show off your trophy. “…a single fish.”

You beam at him and peel away from his side to spin on your heels and face them as you walk backward. “It ate another fish after I was going to spare it so I shot it and now I’m going to eat it, or feed it to the hound.”

Addam hums and Cregan passes you an amused look that’s also filled with slight judgment, but you let it be and instead bring up another matter. “Addam today is your lucky day.”

Said man lifts a brow and probes. “How so?”

You flash him a smile and then giggle before you respond. “Tonight Ser Cane agreed to play the lute, isn’t that right ser?”

“Twisted my arm,” he deadpans and you chuckle since you know that’s far from the truth because the campfire was the idea he shared with you. He said he wanted to play the lute as long as you sang, so how could you deny the request?!

But you'll let him act all nonchalant.

“And!” You clap. “I’m going to accompany him by singing, so boys you are invited to our campfire, there will be singing, dancing, and lute playing!” You exclaim. “Oh! And women as well, the healers are going to attend. I have persuaded them, so Addam put on your most charming smile.”

Addam rolls his eyes and grumbles. “There’s no time for that.”

You ignore him and proceed to taunt him. “Oh? Rhaena you say?”

“No!”

“Well I’ll say Rhaena is the best choice for you, Baela is a bit too tough for you,” you keep ignoring him. “She might bite your head off, but Rhaena is more gentle, so yes I agree she is the right one.”

Addam shakes his head and you bounce your eyebrows and share the idea you had already told her. “And if you don’t make a move when we see each other again, just know I will put something in your breakfast and shove you in a boat so you may drift to the middle of the sea and be forced to find a way back to shore together because nothing screams romance like a good adventure!” You exclaim dramatically and grab his arm to shake him. “You will fall in love, thank me when you wed, and name your first daughter after me!” You giggle and then squeal. “I can see it already.”

Addam pulls his arm out of your grasp and tries to share a glance with Cregan, but he is too busy looking at you with a smile in his eyes to even pay attention to Addam.

“As to why people fear you? I don’t know. They should fear how annoying you are, you know that? Why don’t you worry about your own love life now that you’re a widow.”

“Oh, my love life is decided,” you joke around and flash Cregan a smirk, catching a frown flicker on his face. “My mother has given me the freedom to choose my next husband so I will find my Tyroshi knight whom I had a crush on when I was a little girl,” you say and touch your chest to pretend to be swooning. “He was tall, buff, with very black hair, and green eyes. And when I was young I would purposely take the long way to the library to pass by his post so he could greet me.”

Addam passes you a disgusted look and Cregan scoffs.

“He left not so much later after I discovered I was fond of him so I’m going to search for him and marry him,” you add with a teasing smile.

“Good luck,” Addam quips and you bow your head in return.

“Thank you. As for now though I’m going to cook this fish, think about him, and get ready for later,” you let them know before you spin around and head toward your tent, expecting to ruminate in that hint of joy you were riddled with, but it’s hard.

When you’re in the warmth of your tent, hearing the day pass around you, remembering the faces of everyone you met, the joy slowly burns away. You watch it turn to ash in the fires that keep your tent warm, and in doing so, also bringing forth this exhaustion from the ashes that makes you want to do nothing else but sleep it off as it all gets too heavy to carry. Just staying awake is a trudging effort, but you fight hard to push down that nagging exhaustion and get ready instead, while also making sure to tug on a smile before stepping out without carrying that weight on your shoulders to be like one of the stars that miraculously make an appearance tonight.

“Hello and what a joy it is to see all of your faces tonight,” you address the crowd with an ever-so-blinding charm that you’re using for the night. “I would do my signature bow, but,” you sigh and then click your tongue. “Alas my twins won’t let me, so no bow, but you do get a smile and my ever-so-royal presence.” You say and flash them a beaming smile, causing some of the men in the crowd to hoot before you you lean back and drive all your attention to Addam.

“I would just like to point out a very special person here in the crowd with us tonight, my uncle, and my dearest friend, Ser Addam of Hull!” You exclaim with words that flow easily out of your mouth. “He said one of his dreams was to hear me sing, so today is your lucky day, my friend!”

Said man shakes his head to deny your false claim told to interact with the crowd.

“But I will say,” you continue and lean forward. “My grandfather, Lord Corlys said that when you hear a siren song in the sea you know you’re in danger. Are you in danger tonight, Ser?”

“No, because we’re not in the sea!” He retorts, making you and the crowd laugh.

“Then it is your lucky day!” You exclaim. “Because this song is just for you!”

You proceed to look back at Ser Cane and he starts strumming his lute before you start to sing the words to your absolute favorite song. And with not so much effort or much time later, the atmosphere around the campfire explodes like embers exploding in the fire; going from a standstill and just watching to dancing and singing along with drinks in their hands. And it’s because you see the crowd enjoying themselves that you get drunk off their glee, going from exhausting smiles to a genuine smile that hurts your cheeks. There even comes a point when Addam joins you and sings the last few lines with you as he watches you from the crowd.

Yet nothing makes that bright smile reach your eyes like seeing Cregan finally join the celebrating crowd.

“Okay, okay,” you calm the crowd down when the song comes to an end. “I need you all to listen well because this next song is one I myself translated from Valyrian for someone close and dear to my beating heart,” you share and never once tear your eyes away from Cregan parting through the crowd without once saying excuse me. The people move for him and make space so he can make his way to the front where he stands next to Addam and becomes all you can focus on because there's nothing brighter, or more interesting than him, the person the song is about.

“Is it me?!” One of the men exclaims in the crowd. “If it is, I will marry you!”

You squint your eyes and search the crowd until you find the daring culprit to be Lord Benjicot Blackwood, the excited young boy from before. “You would marry me?” You play along. “While I look like this?”

“Of course! If the song is for me, why not?!”

You giggle and tilt your head to the side. “Aw well how sweet of you, but I cannot say who the song is about or it will ruin the mystery,” you let him down in a smart way. “Sorry darling. Maybe one day.”

He hollers out of excitement so you flash him a grin before you straighten up and continue to address the entire crowd. “Dance if you want, cry, or sing, I don’t know. Do what your heart desires and enjoy because I will soon leave this stage and join you all,” you proclaim before you peer back and give Ser Cane a gesturing nod that lets him begin to strum his lute so you can start singing your song.

And this time around, as you stand in some field in the middle of the Riverlands as a widow and no need to hide your connection from anyone anymore; you hold Cregan’s grey eyes with a soft glistening admiration and dedicate your smile just to him, finding nothing more heartwarming or heart pumping then that small smile he offers you as you are the sole captor of his attention and shine in his eyes like the morning and evening star, the sun, the fire in the darkness, and the moon in every single phase of its cycle.

Anyone with eyes would see how the wolf is so enamored with the dragon, but everyone is so busy in their own happy states that they fail to notice the sparks that give life to a different fire elsewhere. Even Addam’s attention is stolen, so for as long as the song lasts only Cregan and you exist under the starlittered night. The campfire blazing in the distance is only meant to keep your bodies warm, and the music is just meant to make your hearts dance.

Do you wish that moment stolen from time could last forever? Yes, you both want to prolong this moment, but alas, the song comes to an end and other singers and musicians take the stage, letting the men caught up in the moment pull you away from Cregan’s sight to make you dance along with them. And even though you do lag behind with the twins weighing you down, you don’t let that weight from before keep crushing your soul, you become weightless to be a part of the moment, and find joy in this stolen moment on a random night because there’s nothing more exciting and memorable than stolen moments is there?

Yet you can’t truly be lost in the crowd, you don’t blend with your white-silver hair glimmering like diamonds against the fire blazing in the center, but Cregan doesn’t steal you away from the crowd to avoid diminishing your excitement. Cregan stands in the back of the crowd where the light barely touches him, but where he can see you clearly as you’re pulled around the campfire from partner to partner until you land in Addam’s arms and laugh with him like you don’t harbor any sadness or grief.

That’s all Cregan could ever want, your happiness. How can anyone be so cruel as to want you to suffer? Why do the gods find amusement in your pain? Can’t they see you shine your brightest when you’re happy? Don't they like to see you smile and be happy like he likes to?

If only this moment could last forever, or at least linger for a few more days so he doesn’t have to see that weight crushing you or the dark shadow of grief cast over you again, but alas, it can’t last forever so he basks in the now and continues to watch you from the shadows until suddenly you make your way to him with a cocky smirk playing on your lips.

“Come dance with me,” you don’t say it as a request, but more as a demand. “Just this song.”

You reach him and grab his hand to pull him with you regardless of what his response might be.

“It’s not a request is it?” He asks nevertheless as he's taken away from the shadows and becomes a participant in the events of the night.

“No,” you giggle, and once you make it back near the campfire, you bring him to a stop and face him before you pull your hands up as they stay interlinked, and start to walk around him to follow the beat of the new song.

“Dance Lord Stark,” you demand again and nudge his foot, causing him to sigh before he matches your pace and starts walking around you with your hands interlocked in the sky.

“You look beautiful,” he compliments you as you get lost in each other's eyes.

“Thank you,” you say sweetly and offer him a matching smile. “You look quite handsome yourself under this starlight.”

He scoffs and hides his smile by pointing it to the ground. The song then starts to pick up so you don’t falter, but he still finds it in himself not to lose sight of your eyes, he holds your gaze and you get lost again, finding nothing more comfortable than the depths of his eyes that reflect the roaring fire behind you and make him look that more passionate.

“Is it okay if I steal you after this? I want to talk to you,” he reveals, making your heart jump. “Or we can wait until this is over if you’re enjoying it.”

You swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, we can go after this song,” you assure him because honestly, you can’t take the anticipation. And until then you stay in each other's proximity, not daring to change partners or ever look away out of fear you’d lose each other if your eyes weren’t as interconnected as your hands are, but can you blame each other for being so attached? There’s finally nothing holding you back, your paths are meeting up to intertwine and become one once and for all. Why would you be anything else but attached to the hip?

When the song comes to an end and the time comes to part away from the clamoring crowd, you don't even let go of one another, you’re like kids in love again refusing to be too far from each other and wanting nothing else but find one special place to hide and be alone without getting caught or disturbed.

That’s perhaps something no one could take away from you because it was your special thing just like going to the roof was yours and Aemond’s thing.

“Come on just over here,” he lets you know as he keeps his hand secured around yours so you don’t fall behind.

“Hey, what did you think about that last song I sang?” You ask as you blindly follow him through the thick of the woods, and he huffs softly before you catch a glimpse of his eye as he peers back at you with a rather timid smile.

“I found it in this book of ballads and songs I was gifted and it reminded me of you,” you share shamelessly and make his grip around your hand tighten as you receive silence. “I was planning to talk about it through a letter, but alas our paths crossed again.”

“Well it was popular amongst the crowd,” he finally says in a softened tone. “But most of them were getting drunk.”

You hum and keep your eyes on him to await his answer with your heart starting to race since he doesn’t say anything in regards to your question.

“And those who weren’t drunk probably thought it was about your husband,” he says and there’s a bit of roughness that makes an appearance in his tone for a second, so you interject.

“But it wasn’t. You know that?” You say it as a question rather than a comment, making him look at you over his shoulder to look into your eyes and get the reassurance he was missing before he nods and flashes you a charming smile.

“I do, It was a beautiful song. I liked it,” he finally fills your heart with bliss as he responds to your question before he lets himself be flirty. “You should sing it again but in a more private setting this time.”

You grin at him and offer him an agreeing nod before you look ahead with the intention to finally question where it is he’s dragging you to, after all, all the walking is starting to exhaust you, but the moment you look past his shoulder a gasp escapes your lips as you see a clearing just ahead where the moon bathes the field of grass in its illuminating glow.

“Look at that,” you muse and quicken your pace to take the lead and step into that grass field kissed by the moon's hue.

“I came walking and I discovered it,” Cregan shares quietly as he admires the way you admire the clearing. “It reminded me of the clearing we would escape to in Winterfell.”

You spin around and face him with a taunting smile. “Are you still using me as your midnight rendezvous, my Lord?”

Cregan scoffs. “No, not anymore, but,” he sighs and smiles ever so softly that it barely shows on his face, but his eyes, they smile the brightest. “…I thought it would be special.”

You hum softly and take one more step back before you sit on the ground and pat the spot next to you even though that’s the exact spot he was going to take regardless. You then want to comment on the fact that the small piece of land is breathtaking especially as the moon seems to shine just for the field of grass, but you’re so caught up in the bliss and peace of the moment that silence brings that you can’t bring yourself to break it just yet. You simply take in and release the crispy air of the night and get wrapped in the comfort of Cregan breathing beside you.

You get so lost in the moment in fact that you forget the world past the perimeters of the field of moonlight, it’s just him, you, the moon, and the field of stars in his eyes. When Cregan is not paying attention you steal a lingering look at him and admire how beautiful his grey eyes are as they reflect the beautiful painting of the field of stars above your head, reminding you of the endless field of stars in the North, and those warm and cold nights you would spend selfishly under them with only each other as company as you tried not to but failed at not falling in love with another.

You wish you could go back to those nights. You wish you could be back there again where it was just you and him. And for a moment it does feel like you are but only for a moment until you peel your eyes away from him and remember that you’re far from the North and that life you once had.

“Can I ask you something?” Cregan brings up, cutting through the silence, but not the bliss, and making you hum as a response without tearing your eyes away from the sky, in doing so, missing the way he admires the way your silver-white hair glistens under the moon's hue like the pure untouched snow in the North.

He actually wishes he could be back home now with you at his side and at last sharing his family name. You would be happier there because you were always happy when you were in Winterfell. Alas…

“Do you really not believe in hope anymore?” He asks such a heavy question that kills your smile and makes you blink in disbelief before you face him.

“It’s just what you say worries me,” he continues to share. “It’s not you.”

You look at him for a while as you try to gather your thoughts and try to come up with some lie to not include your grief and your agony that have taken turns stripping at that hope you used to cherish, but as you look at him you see your best friend, someone you can trust, and have told everything to, so why would you lie about this?

“There’s just no point in hoping,” you share quietly as you blink and slowly bring your head down. “Hope did not save my brothers or my grandmother. And hope has not won this war, the people fighting in it have, so no, hope is not something I believe in anymore. We carve our own path.”

Cregan sighs and scoots himself closer to you to grab your chin with a gentle touch before he then tilts your head up so you’re looking into his eyes softened by the sorrow you make him feel. “Darling, you can’t give up on hope. I know the losses you have suffered have taken a piece of you with them. The way your story has unfolded has not been pleasant or merciful, but we need hope just like we need to breathe.”

You shake your head and feel your eyes sting as tears start to well in your eyes. “I have hoped,” your voice quivers. “I have set my heart on hope, but…the world is set on seeing me and my family suffer. If I cling to hope again I will be crushed and there’s hardly any of me left. I can’t…I need to keep my guard up.”

A deep breath leaves his nose and the hand he had on your chin slides up to your cheek whilst the other one gently cups your other cheek so he can hold your face. And it’s that gentle hold that causes you to break into a quiet weep as you melt into his grasp.

“It’s made me a monster, hasn’t it? I wanted power, I wanted to be looked at as a warrior like the woman that came before me, but they all hate me now. They fear me, Cregan. And you do too.”

Cregan leans forward and presses his forehead against yours, but at that moment, your head droops so his face is pressed against the side of yours. “No, no,” he whispers. “Never. You became who they forced you to be, but it does not make me fear you or look at you any differently. You know that,” he says and his breath unfurls over your cheek as he speaks, bringing goosebumps to your skin. “And as for everyone else, you will show them exactly who you want them to see when you win that battle. I know it’s not now, but give them time, okay? They’ll see, they will all see what me and those men that respect you do, hm?”

You blink repeatedly, shedding more tears that make him look cloudy as you pull your head up to look at him. And as you do you accidentally brush your lips against his.

“I need to ask you something else,” he whispers against your lips as he looks between them and your eyes with this temptation starting to burn within him.

“Okay,” you say breathlessly and watch his eyes darting between your lips and your attentive gaze.

“I know,” he breathes out and licks his lips. “…you said to give you time. And time is what you will get, as much as you need, but I need to ask you now that I can, now that nothing is holding us back…” he trails off and you feel your heart skip a beat before it starts to race whilst your eyes slightly widen with curiosity even though you suspect where he might be taking this.

“…marry me,” he says and steals your breath even though you felt it coming in the same way he says winter is coming before the first winter winds blow—“It does not have to be right away, I can wait until after the war, but I just want you to be mine already by promise at least. I don’t want to lose you again. I want…to take you back home after this war,” he says sweet words that make butterflies flutter in your stomach, and make a warmth start to unfurl all over your body.

“I want to love you without having to hide. I want to see your belly swollen with a child of our own,” he continues, making you chuckle and hold onto his wrists for stability. “I want to share my life with you until I take my last breath when we’re old and grey.”

You let out a deep breath as your heart swoons and brings an awe-struck smile to your face. “I want a life with you too,” you assure him. “I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and I want to know the son we will share.”

You both chuckle and he also reaffirms his grasp on your face.

“I just…can’t kiss you right now,” you almost feel pain to say. “I want to but I can’t—”

“I understand,” Cregan cuts you off and gently caresses your cheek. “I do because you’re mine now.”

You beam at him for a second before your face falls as you close your eyes and just take in the moment.

“Please don’t leave me,” you barely form into an audible sentence because it’s so laced with fear. “Please.”

He shakes his head. “I would be mad to leave you. Death can’t even keep me away from you.”

Your lips twitch to a smile before you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him into an embrace you melt into as much as you can.

“I love you,” you whisper as you hold onto him tightly out of a deep fear he will be taken away from you like so many others have.

“I love you too, my darling,” he doesn’t hesitate to say back as he rubs your back with one hand and gently cups the back of your neck with the other.

A peaceful silence then proceeds to roll back in, and in that shared bliss as you sit interconnected with one another under the moon's illuminating light, you both find yourselves back home.

A/N- Blue fish, blue fish what do you symbolize???

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens @silverlightsaber @rosey1981 @amortentiaaaa

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writingoddess1125 · 1 year ago

Text

My Heart Breaks Pt. 2

Warning: Angst then Fluff

Buggy X FemReader

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Part 1

Replaced the Photo! Cause this was too perfect! Art belongs to Vamos_MK on twitter!!

You stared up at the blue sky with a tired sigh, finally you were free.. Over two fucking decades it had taken to escape and you did it God damn it!

For the last 20 years you had been imprisoned in the Impel Down- It had been awful yo say the least.. constantly you were trying to protect yourself and saw that the man who had sent you here had been extra cruel in doing so- well not you but the women who you took her place..

You still felt guilt in knowing she had died in your place.. but you couldnt help but be greatful she had wanted to die due to her cause in an accidental death. You hoped in her afterlife she was happy..

However death was definitely kinder then the prison- with monsters at every turn and trying to keep sex deprived prisoners from trying to have their way with you it had been a battle. You had scratched, fought and squeezed your way out of that hellhole.

After a changing of guards you had managed to slip out- unlike most of the prisoners in the Impel Down you had the enate abilies to swim so you did. Stealing a dingy that a negligent marine most likely left behind you made it out. Paddling like your life depended on it sway from that place, however you were in no position to cry in relief yet.

It was another 2 days of paddling before you manages to get to an island. Starving and dehydrated you snuck to the back end of the tiny island so no one saw your prison uniform. Stealing some berries and a pair of clothes from a small cottage you made it through the village, it was clear this place was poor- you blended in with the people who were just as hungry as you and with less berries then you had nabbed.

You went into a pub getting what you could afford, which was bread and cheese and a ale. You took these and stood outside to eat your meal which tasted no better then ash in your mouth.

Looking around you saw two better dressed men walk out of the pub, batting a poor boy on the back and laughing. Congratulating him for joining their merchant ship- catching your ear you finished your meal and drink quickly, following the men. Seeing a large ship with a line of young men wanting to join the ship for a better life and opportunity, so you join them.

Once you reached to the top of the ship, a old man held out a cane to your chest to keep you from moving forward.

"What do you want lady?-" The old Captian sneered at you, Glaring down at your dirty form.

"You're looking for sailors correct?" You say sharply, Taking a steady breath to still your nerves.

"What can a thing like you do on a ship? Do you even have sailing experience?" The Captian laughed in your face. You clenched your fist and glared hard at the asshole.

"Yes I have sailed since I was young- I can.. do cleaning and maintance" You lied a bit- not talking about your skills as a thief since this is just a merchant and not pirates like you were used to. The Captian stared at you for a moment before sighing with a shrug.

"Fine- Welcome to the May's Fairy Lady" He grumbled as he gestured for you to get on board. Sighing in relief as you had a way to sea and a income.

However that was better said then in reality-

To say the merchant ship was terrible as well had been an understatement- It was like the Impel Down all over again.. a group of touch starved and angry men who saw you as an easy target. Thankfully due to your skills you were able to evade any advances, during the day you would stay in the Lower Deck to avoid the men, cleaning and eating the stale bread and water you snagged not trusting the cook since he liked to Leer at you far too long.

At night you would travel to the Main Deck and clean up there and sleep till dawn or if the ship rocked a bit too hard. This had been your like for 3 months till one evening.

While mopping the floor of the deck you looked up at the dark sky, remembering the night with Buggy before that big heist. Grabbing him and kissing his suddently as a way to express your interest in him... your heart hurt at remembering his face when you saw him last at the bars of the window, Placing your bandana and kissing a kiss on the back of his hand.

Snapping you from your melancholy thoughs was a loud bang, seeing what looked like a firework shoot up right above you. Several crew mates from below deck also came up at hearing the noise, you watched the firework come directly on top of the ship before exploding in a cloud of red- It was beautiful. Your favorite shade of red too. The crew began to panic at seeing this as the cloud settled on the ship, you felt woozy and uneasy on your feet before you fell to the damp ground before darkness took you a large shadowy form of a ship came closer and you swore you heard circus music.

Groaning you felt yourself sitting up, a harsh digging from metal against your ankles and wrist. Jerking awake you saw you were seated in wooden benches in a dark room, Hearing the groaning and panic of others around you. You pulled at the chains slightly but winced at how tight they were.

Suddently bright lights turned on, You saw your crew chained up and seated next to you staring at a lowered stage. Your breath picking up as circus music started up, watching as different acts come up- it was almost exactly like how you remembered the show you went to in your childhood? Like someone recreating it from memory? People pulled out sighs to applaud which you saw the merchant nervously do.

"No No NO! It's wrong! That is not how a crowd should clap!" You heard a sharp voice say, walking onto the stage- He looked like a pirate Captian and not apart of the circus. You did see clown paint on his face and a red clown nose- which made your eyes narrow at the sight.

Your eyes focused on the grown man- Watching as he commanded the crowd with a twisted smile and yelled at the circus people. He sighed dramtically and looked in the direction of the crowd- chastising them for their lack of enthusiasm and not laughing with the cues. However the wind felt like it was knocked from your lungs.. You knew those eyes.. that blue hair expertly tucked away and real rounded red nose.

"Bugs?" You called out loud by accident- You saw his whole body freezes mid step. A twitch seemed to have shot through his system as your merchant crew mates all looked back at you with a mixture of pity and fear. You swallow a nervous lump as he did a slow turn in your direction, your face still clouded in shadows by the lack of lights in the audience section. Doing a silent hand movement his crewmates assended on you, yanking you from your restraints roughly and pulling you to the stage with little grace and tossing you at Buggy's feet. Rubbing your swore wrist you looked up at your childhood friend through your mess of hair.

"What the Hell Bugs? Shackles!? When the fuck do you use Mph!-" You were cut off as he grabbed your face hard tp pull you to your feet, his eyes wide and overly dilated like he was seeing a ghost. You actually felt afraid? His eyes seemed different and there was a unknown emotion behind them, you tried to wiggle free but he held you firmly taking his free hand and pushing the hair from your face fully at seeing your face you see it looks like all the air has been sucked from his lungs and he releases you quickly, you stumble back barely able to catch yourself as he stares at you with wide eyes.

"You're alive?..." He said in utter shock. You nod and cough a bit as you rub your sore jaw from his grasp. You open your mouth to speak but he holds a hand to you to silence you. His eyes looking more like what you remembered, that swirl of never ending emotions.

"Cabaji- Take her to be washed, fed and dressed. Leave her in my quarters" He commanded, the green man nodded heavily and grabbed you far gentler now to lead you off stage.

Just as instructed a group of people washed you up in a massive copper bath with nice hot water, dressed you in simple trousers and a tunic and quickly dropped you off with a plate on the end table of the large bedroom.

Seated in a massive bed you look down at the hot plate set before you, your manners thrown out the window as you tucked in. Having been far too long since you had a hot filling meal-

Without thinking you rapidly start eating it, it tasted like heaven enough for tears to well in your eyes as you ate. Before long the plate was gone- and you felt nauseous, yout mistake of eating too quickly and food you hadn't experienced in 20 years. You scrambled up to the nearest trashcan and began to vomit- so hard you didn't hear the door open. Only when a gentle hand touched your back which made you flitch and turn around to see Buggy, his eyes wide at your reaction before your body lurches and you vomited again. Buggy held your hair back this time as you vomited into the poor trashcan.

"Sorry... it's been a while since I got a hot meal" You admitted, spitting the taste of bile away from your lips as you sat back.

"It really is you" Buggy said in disbelief still, Getting down on his knees next to you as he looked over you. How you looked so unhealthy and weak- even after being cleaned he could see that abuse had done its work on you.

"Dear Gods... What happened to you?..." Buggy voice finally cracked, his hand reaching out and cupping your cheek his thumb running over the heavy bags under your eyes and the new scars that had set on your face.

"...I survived" You say softly, Leaning into his warm touch feeling tears begin to fall. In seconds Buggy held you tightly in his arms, your face pressed against his chest as ragged sobs left you, maybe it was finally being free from both jail and the hardships on that awful merchant ship but feeling Buggy's arms around you holding you close just finally released that emotional valve and you cried.. Harder then you had in your entire life into his chest.

You felt his hands smooth over your messy hair and rock you side to side as you sobbed against him. You tried to speak but sobbing nonsense was all that left you and was mumbled through Buggy's shirt.

After almost an hour of crying against Buggy you had worn yourself out, sniffling against him as he gently pulled back to look at your reddened face. His own makeup having dripped away from his red eyes- clearly he had been crying too while holding you.

He wiped your face with his gloved hand and laid kisses on your forehead to comfort you.

"You never have to just survive again... I-Im sorry (Y/N) I couldn't save you" His voice cracked at that, you shook your head.

"I-It would have been impossible. You two would have been killed..." You say with a sniffling tone, trying to control your tone and keep from crying again. Buggy asked what had happened, as you told him the story of your escape, prison time, the pain you had suffered and how you'd escaped to be hired by those merchants. He listened dead silent the whole time his hands rubbing circles in your arms to comfort you. However you saw the rage in his eyes at the pain you'd gone through.

Once done explaining yourself he nodded at this, like he was trying to find the words to explain but couldn't. Instead just giving a bitter chuckle at this, shaking his head in anger. He reached up and took off his hat with a angry sigh and tossed it aside. Your eyes catching the bandana underneath and reaching a hand out to touch the fabric.

"You kept that?.. after all these years?" You whispered confused, the anger on his face leaving as he heard this and left your touch. Reaching up and gently pulling off the old bandana for you to see.

"Of course- you gave it to me... W-When you... left. I was destroyed" He admitted, you stared at him with tears starting to fall from you again.

"I couldn't look at myself in the mirror without seeing the face that had let you down.. so I changed- I smiled for you, wore your favorite red and became Buggy the Clown"

He said with a chuckle and gestured to himself. You bit your lip to keep from crying more, he wiped your tears away with a shaky breath.

"You did that for me? Why?" You whispered, he stared at you silently before having a nervous smile.

"I love you"

His words made your heart skip- like that spark of life from when you were 15 had hit you again. Your eyes met his, he also seemed taken aback by his admittance.

"You love me?" You questioned, seeing him nervously mess with his gloves. He always did have little nervous tics like this whenever he was in a odd position, however peeling off one of his gloves to dig his nail into his palm he nodded. You reached forward and took his hand into your own to keep him from harming his hand further.

"Well I'd hope so after giving you my first kiss on that little boat"

You both giggled at this. You rubbing your thumb on his naked palm, seeing the deep scars that covered his hands- like he had dug his nails into them so many times that his palms was covered in smiley faces.

"Of course, didn't hurt it was my first kiss too" He chuckled but you winked at him.

"Don't lie, I remember the story of you and Shanks running on deck and your guys mouth smashing together. That counted" Buggy shiffered in disgust at the memory and wrinkled his face which made you laugh.

"That doesn't count!" He protest which earned more laughter from you, he smiled widely at this.

"Sooo if both of us are still interested, Would you like to continue what should have been?" You asked, giving him a blushing smile which he returned. A big Goofy grin on his face-

"Well, let's get you healthier first. What about a dinner date?" He suggested, almost giddy and you could see that same boy you once knew under that makeup again.

"Sounds perfect"

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#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy the clown x reader #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #op buggy #captain buggy #buggy the clown #bugg

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