#even some of the things I wish there was more or less of still pale in comparison to what i expected to get

[densewentz]

trying to enjoy Veilguard in the ever-incendiary Dragon Age fandom like

[teencopandthesourwolf]

edited version can be read on ao3 HERE

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“Need a hand with that?”

Derek didn't drop the tire he was carrying, but it was a close thing. He'd recognise that voice anywhere—would know it in a sea of a thousand others.

He slowly turned on his heel to find its owner sat in Derek's favourite tree.

Stiles.

“You're here,” he breathed, not bothering to hide the mix of shock and relief that coloured his own voice and features.

Stilesʼ lips twitched. “I'm here,” he confirmed, just in case Derek needed to hear it.

“Hey,” Derek said, eloquent as ever.

“Hey yourself,” Stiles grinned back.

Shifting his weight on the tree branch, Stiles then pulled himself up to standing. He wiped his hands on the ass of his jeans before proffering one towards Derek.

“I'm Mieczysław Stilinski. It's really nice to meet you, dude.”

Stilesʼcheeks flushed an overwhelmingly pretty shade of pink, and Derek wanted to eat him.

Reaching out to take the hand in one of his own, the pads of his fingertips brushed the familiar Jack rabbit pulse at Stiles's wrist, for just a second, and it was both a calling card and like a huge sigh of relief.

He turned the name around in his mind.

Mieczysław. Mieczysław Stilinski.

It was unexpected, and very Polish, and Derek sort of adored it.

Looking a little antsy, Stiles said, “It, uh, means 'sword' in Polish. If you go in for that sort of thing.” He blushed some more and then snorted at himself. “But yeah, I know it's kinda... ʼSʼobviously why I go by Stiles—which was my Grandfather's nickname too, by the way.”

Derek's heart swelled in his chest.

This was what they could've had if things had gone differently for them.

He cleared his throat, took a deep intake of woodsmoke-laced air into his lungs, then said, “Broderick Seth Rodman Hale, third son of Talia and Seth Hale of the Hale Pack of Beacon Hills county, North California, and I'm very pleased to meet you're acquaintance. Oh, and do not call me dude, by the way.”

“Broderick? Are you shitting me right now?!” Stiles blurted, trying and failing to not laugh.

Derek rolled his eyes and it felt like breathing. “Seriously? I think you'll find you don't have even half a leg to stand on, Mieczysław.”

“Actually, I have two, Broderick Seth Rodman Hale, and I diligently used the both of them to come out here to Bumfuck nowhere to find you.”

He shot Derek with ridiculous finger guns then blew away imaginary gunpowder smoke, and if it wasn't for the kid's beard it could've easily been thirteen-years ago.

Not a kid anymore.

Stiles looked amazing. A little broader, and a little fuller in the face, and the beard really, really suited him. At once, Derek had the desperate urge to sink his claws into it and paw at the pale skin beneath. He wanted to back Stiles into the bark of the tree and bury his nose in that long, mole-peppered neck he still had dreams about, to breathe in pure unadulterated Stiles.

He swallowed thickly, licking at his dry lips and wishing they were Stilesʼ. Had to force himself to unclench the fist not currently grasping Stiles's hand.

Derek had to try his best to pretend that he wasn't very aware of the fact that they were still very much holding onto each other.

“Broderick means 'brother' in Old Norse, if you go in for that sort of thing,” he offered, borrowing Stiles's banter.

Stiles's smile was easy, albeit tainted with a hint of sadness for that piece of information. He was sort of—looser. More relaxed, and definitely less agitated than he used to be. Though he smelled exactly the same as he always had: Of strong coffee and Bath & Body Oak shower gel and wild cinnamon and lemon sherbet dip, and that particular warm smack of something that Derek had always struggled to place—the very essence of Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski.

The familiar tang zinged over his taste buds like popping candy, and his wolf took up its routinely impatient pacing at his core as if they had seen Stiles only yesterday.

“I'm—uh, I don't—you look good, Stiles. Really good.”

This human was the only creature on planet earth that had Derek Hale fumbling his words.

Stiles was smirking his signature smirk—only there was something new pulling at the curve of that life-ruining mouth of his.

Unerring confidence.

Derek sniffed at the air and licked at his lips again so he could taste that, too.

“You're look pretty fine yourself there, Sourwolf,” Stiles divulged, mirroring Derek again by licking his own lips. He shamelessly looked Derek up and down and said, “Your edges aren't quite so sharp, and you're little softer ʼround the eyes, like maybe you're—I dunno. Something closer to being happy?” His eyes shone like the full moon in the dark when he told Derek, “And, dare I say it, maybe not even all that sour anymore?”

Derek huffed a breath out through his nostrils that was in the proximity of a laugh.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Looks good on you, man. Really good.”

Stiles was borrowing Derek's words, and if he kept saying things like that to Derek while looking at Derek the way that he was, Derek would have to restrain himself from picking the guy up by the scruff of his very nice sweater and kissing the words right out of his mouth.

Then everything sort of stilled, somehow, including the wind, and the birds, and them, as if the whole world had just halted for something incredibly important.

They stood there, just gazing at each other. Like there wasn't anything else they could or would possibly be doing right now.

Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.

It was obvious to even the blades of grass on the ground that they both still felt it.

Slowly, slowly, they caught back up to reality.

Derek took a breath and found his voice again.

“Might've taken a few pointers from a kid I used to know,” he smiled, eyes never leaving Stilesʼ.

Then he thought in for a penny and admitted, “I hoped you'd come looking for me—and I want you to know that I'm really, really glad that you did.”

Stiles squinted at him through the sun's afternoon rays that broke through the Colorado cloud cover like the heavens had suddenly appeared. In that moment, he reminded Derek of the beautiful golden Aztec Sanvitalia shrub that grew down by the little stream behind his cabin. He wondered briefly if that was the missing base note in Stiles's scent, and felt a little insane with it all.

“Well, I knew I'd find you,” Stiles shrugged, “because one: I'm like a dog with a bone, and two: You left a trail of breadcrumbs so fucking vague only a genius like yours truly would be able to follow.”

He then shielded those big brown doe eyes of his from a particularly bright sunbeam with a still-bony hand, and the squinted look on his face was so fond Derek had to sink his canines into his lip to hold in the pitiful whine that threatened to climb up and out of his chest and escape him.

He stepped closer to the tree; closer to the boy who runs with wolves, who was definitely not a boy any longer.

“You make it sound as if we're in some sort of fairytale, Stiles,” Derek said as he attempted to blink Stiles's beauty from his eyes, knowing it would be a fruitless endeavour.

Finally, Stiles reached out to pull Derek down and into his lap, and Derek went like a force of nature.

He dropped the tire this time.

Stiles smelled like love when he said, “Weren't we always, Der?” right into Derek's mouth.

And Derek knew.

As Stiles leaned in and kissed him softly, and he kissed Stiles softly right back, he knew they both understood that although they had to travel far from Beacon Hills to find it, they had both—at long last—made it home.

.

on ao3 HERE if you'd like to leave me a comment <3

i saw the new dob shoot and my brain remembered the hoech one and went ping! this is for @wulfnerd seeing as they came up with the wonderful Broderick as Derek's full first name in the tags of a post of mine who knows how long ago...

unedited, please be forgiving <3

[minzis]

The Ghost Of Her

Art Credits: “Selene Thrown Down by Argus,” 1886 by Ferdinard Keller.

⋅•⋅⊰𖥸•┈୨A Simon Riley One-shot୧┈•𖥸⊱⋅•⋅

♡Summary: Even after being on the team for months Ghost has yet to warm up to you. On a drunken night he confesses a truth leaving you feeling worse then before when he simply hated you.

♡Tags: Angst, no comfort, sfw :)

♡Authors Note: so wow have I been gone….I have worked on other things. Can’t really use the I’ve been busy excuse cause I haven’t I’ve been literally doing nothing.-. ANYWAYSSS I did listen to “Sweater Weather” by The Neighborhood on repeat while writing this so take that as you will. If y’all want a part two let me know! Other then that I will work on things hopefully soon but no promises😞

⋅•⋅⊰𖥸•┈୨♡୧┈•𖥸⊱⋅•⋅

“You look like her,” he admitted blankly his hand half hazardously setting his empty glass on the counter. He’s drunk, very drunk.

You weren’t even sure why he was talking to you let alone why you bothered sitting next to the same man who treated you like complete shit during training, during missions. Just about any interaction with him was always ill ending but at the same time you couldn’t help but sit next to him based on the looks from the rest of the team. They all looked worried but couldn’t bring themselves to approach him. So you settled for being the sacrifice, he always yelled at you anyways what’s another night?

His gaze was unfocused as he looked at you, he was there but he wasn’t really there. His finger tapped as his glass as he went to take another sip but he placed it back down his glance of realization it was still empty.

“Who?” You asked softy, eyes drawing over his half covered face the balaclava just hovering above his lips. The blacked makeup around his eyes smudged, he looked messy. You wondered if he’d even remember talking to you tonight.

“My girlfriend,” his eyes crinkled the same way a person’s does when they smile. His brows furrowed shaking his head like he simply forgot something, he motioned over the bartender to refill his glass. Your eyes followed the bartender as she refilled his glass, that was his fourth glass since you had gotten here.

“Sorry my ex-girlfriend, she died a few years back. Some tumor in the brain they said, it was inoperable and terminal,” he spoke as you swallowed harshly sitting up in your seat. You tired not to frown but the pale look on your face would’ve been obvious if he hadn’t been so drunk.

The hatred made a sudden sense now, your hand clenched at your own glass as he continued. “Yeah she looked just like you, same hair, the laugh too and the eyes it’s really in the eyes the first time I seen you I could’ve sworn it was her but,” he trailed off his gaze flicking in hits of disappointed.

“But it wasn’t, it was just you,” he spoke taking another sip from his drink, more like half the glass. You hated the way he said you like it had been wrong for you to even exist at all, like it was some evil thing you had done showing up at all. You suddenly wished all he did was yell at you, for some reason that would have cut less deep.

You downed your own drink the alcohol leaving a stinging taste like the thoughts of wishing you had never even sat down next to him. Wishing you had just ignored him like he would’ve done to you. You glanced back at him surprised to find he was already looking, you thought he was but once again his gaze was unfocused. He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at her.

This wasn’t just another night, it was a sicking one. One that left you feeling ill and guilty for hating him even more after his confession. How could you hate him but how could you not hate him? Your eyes watched him as you took in a heavy breath. He reached out to brush a stray hair of yours tucking it behind your ear. His hand dropped to your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered but it sounded pained like he was being forced to speak. You couldn’t even move as your lip quivered at the sight. His eyes watered as he moved to hug you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, he was shaking horribly as he clung to you. The overwhelming smell of alcohol from him engulfed you, his fingers clenched at the fabric of your shirt.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral. I should’ve been there but I couldn’t see you in that casket all dull and lifeless,” he spoke in a slurred speech as your own tears fell. Still even now he wasn’t even speaking to you, you simply weren’t even there to him.

The feeling was overwhelming you, being so unseen and invisible was truly something despicable. You bit your lip in attempts to keep yourself from crying any further. You felt sick, surely you’d throw up soon.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited your grave. I swear I’ll come and I’ll leave your favorite flowers. I just wish…I could’ve been there to hold your hand, I should’ve been there when you died I’m really fucking sorry,” he spoke in rushed statements as you tired to bring yourself to push him away, to yell or scream. Just anything at all but you were stuck frozen, what are you supposed to say to a drunken man who thought he was talking to his dead girlfriend?

Your heart ached as you reluctantly returned his hug as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Your hands rubbed up and down his back humming in response. Your teary eyes met with the rest of the 141, you shook your head glancing down at Ghost’s back. They nodded moving across the bar to pry him off you. Gaz and Soap each held up one of his arms and a supporting one along his back. What hurt the most was for some odd reason they didn’t seem all that surprised. The three men shuffled away Ghost mumbling more words but you could hardly understand.

You gaze met with Price’s as he looked sympathetic, he reached to offer a soft tap on you shoulder but you pushed his hand away. You felt angry and used, “you guys knew didn’t you? You fucking knew I looked like her and you still let me run around like some fool wondering what I had done wrong.”

You stared at him with a frustrated glare standing up on your feet ready to say more but held your tongue. You sighed shakily digging through your purse, you opened your wallet slamming a hundred dollar bill on the counter.

“For the drinks,” you muttered angrily turning on your heels, he grabbed your arm his own gaze softening. He moved to speak but you stopped him yanking your arm back.

“Don’t…just leave me be,” you sighed in disbelief, how stupid you must’ve looked complaining to them about Ghost’s antics as they joked along. A complete and utter fucking fool you must’ve been. “Respectfully sir fuck you and the rest of the damn team, I want a transfer put in,” you spoke through gritted teeth, he didn’t say anymore letting you walk away.

[moonydustx]

Hi, I was wondering if you could do Zoro, Luffy, Ace, Mihawk, and Lucci as well as Crocodile x Reader, what if the reader, one day tells them that they are pregnant, how would they react/ How would they be as parents? ( also maybe add some parenting shenanigans, knowing these guys.)

OMG! You have no idea how much I loved your request. I know, I know, it took me a looooong time to respond. But after a few migraines (and anxiety), I'm back. I was already thinking about doing something like that, but I was lacking some kind of inspiration so thanks <3 Maybe I got carried away with writing, I'm terrible at summaries and things like that , but I hope you like it.

The structure is kind of: them discovering the pregnancy, them dealing with the pregnancy and a small hint of how they deal with the children.

Warnings are placed individually in each story.

I'm dividing it into two parts so as not to be exhaustive. (I'm sorry, I reaaaally got carried away writing it).

PART 2 HERE - Lucci, Mihawk and Crocodile.

requests open | one piece masterlist

Zoro

Warnings: Fluuuff, super fluff. F!Reader has a bad health at the beginning of this one. Sanji is Zoro's daughter's favorite person for food reasons.And of course, Zoro is protective and jealous (especially towards the little girl).

It should have just been a momentary relief, you didn't expect the little escapades between you and Zoro to turn into a relationship. Much less did I expect to have seen the two blue lines on the small stick that you kept hidden in your small desk. How to raise a baby in Sunny? How to tell Zoro that the relationship between the two of you would now gain another part?

You wished you had more time to think about the solution, more time to even clear your doubts with Chopper, but the little being inside you insisted on demonstrating its existence. One of the days, you had almost passed out on top of Franky - who obviously freaked out. In the other, he had eaten twice as much as Luffy ate and had to come up with a lame excuse. This time, it was the third time in a row that you had put food in your mouth and it barely lasted minutes in your stomach.

"Hey…" you heard your name being called from outside the bathroom, but it was a female voice. "Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine, Robin."

"I believe that fine is not the term that best defines your situation." she laughed, still outside. Not knowing how to deal with the situation, you reached out and opened the door, giving her space to enter. "What's our plan?"

"What do you mean our plan?"

"Nausea, dizziness, food cravings, and all the noise you and Zoro make when you're alone." with every word that came out of her mouth, you could feel your skin turn pale. "The swordsman doesn't know yet, right?"

"Not yet." your face sank into your own hands, frustrated with the indecision that plagued your mind. "What do I do, Robin?"

"I suggest you talk to your boyfriend soon, I believe he might accept the idea better than you might expect." She smiled gently, brushing aside the strands of hair that stuck to your face. "However, right now he's trying to kill the cook because he thinks he gave you some spoiled food."

Robin's light laugh was left behind as you ran towards the screams, which had seemed imperceptible before now became increasingly audible.

"Stupid cook, he doesn't even know how to make an egg properly."

"You moldhead, shut your mouth."

"Mold is what you're putting in your food."

"You two stop." you stood between the two, shouting at the top of your lungs and interrupting their argument and the laughter of the others, who were entertained by Zoro and Sanji fighting. "I just… I just need…" the air seemed to disappear from your lungs and the scorching sun above you became just a black screen.

Minutes, hours, days, when your eyes opened, you felt so tired that you couldn't calculate how long you were gone. The first thing that crossed your field of vision was Chopper walking from side to side with a stethoscope in hand.

"Ah, you're awake!" he came happily by your side.

"What happened?" you knew very well what had happened, but first of all you needed to find out what the little doctor had already discovered.

"I'm sorry, but Robin told me some things." He placed the cold item to listen to your heartbeat, remaining silent for a few seconds.

"And is everything okay? I mean, with…" the word seemed to disappear from your lips, it was difficult to bring up the idea without knowing how the other party responsible for it would react.

"These days helping Franky, all this commotion from the fight, from my diagnosis, you're just exhausted. And a little dehydrated too, and that's not good for you or the baby." he explained, sweetly as usual. "By my reckoning, you must be two months pregnant. I'll talk to Luffy and Nami, so we can quickly find an island and secure supplies."

"Wait!" you held him, even though the reindeer hadn't moved. "Can I talk to Zoro first?"

"Of course, he doesn't know yet, right? But he's out there, very worried."

"Do you mind calling him for me?" you asked and saw him nod, leaving the small infirmary.

Your body still feeling heavy from fatigue, you sat down thinking about what words to use, how to bring up such an important subject. The door opened, but you lacked the courage to face the man who stopped in front of you. His silhouette on the ground began to become more real and closer, only then did you realize that he had bent down to be at your height.

"Ready to talk about this?" he whispered and adjusted his posture, remaining standing in front of you as your legs dangled off the bed.

"About what?" His eyes dropped from your face, went to your stomach and looked back at you. To his surprise, he found your orbs wide open in surprise. "How do you know?"

"I was looking for my material to clean my katanas, I missed the drawer and ended up opening yours. I found something strange there and asked Robin. As the drawer was yours, the test could only be yours." he listed with the most passable face in the world.

At the same time it lifted a burden from your conscience. You wanted to kill him for leaving you in agony and thinking of ways to bring up the subject.

"I understood." Your voice was calmer than you could have expected, but you could feel your eyes burning with pure anticipation - and hormones, which you would still discover how much they would affect you. "And what do we do now?"

"We continued sailing." Noticing your stress, one of his hands joined yours, on top of your belly. "And if it becomes too risky, beyond my ability to protect you both, we step aside for a while and then the three of us come back when it's safe."

You wanted to be grateful that he didn't freak out, you wanted to freak out yourself or even say "What do you mean we're step aside?", but the only things that came out of you were tears and sobs, as you clung to his torso.

"I-I thought you would hate me…" a lot more sobs, a lot more tears. "And you was going to leave me on some island."

"I would never do that."

"And I-I wanted to eat the salad Sanji makes."

"You can ask that idiot." Zoro gave his arm, he didn't understand much about pregnancies, but when he found out about the subject Robin explained some things about hormones and sensitivity, while Chopper, in the little time he had to call him, had warned him about the health conditions of the woman who he loved most in the world. Arguments with the cook could wait.

"Don't worry, sweetheart." He had to contain his own laughter hearing you say such nonsense. "I promise to take care of you both, here at Sunny or anywhere else."

Zoro couldn't define his promise about taking care of you better. The remaining months of pregnancy passed faster than you could imagine, despite you being left out of any and all activities. No fighting, no major exploration, no staying near stairs or high places. On the other hand, there was a type of exercise that your hormones craved - and consequently, disturbed the entire team.

After long hours of labor, you didn't know who was screaming more - you, in pain, Zoro desperately wanting Chopper to do something or Luffy thinking you were going to die, seeing the blood when he decided to peek into the room. When little Kuina was born, everyone, including you, discovered a new side of the swordsman. More careful, delicate, he held the little girl like the most precious thing in the entire universe. The three swords were no longer tied to him all the time, the insults directed at the cook became a little lighter when the little girl with green hair was nearby.

"Uncle Sanjiiiii" the girl, now five years old, ran and hummed towards the kitchen, clinging to the cook's leg. "Can you make 'rispy potatos for me?"

"Of course my dear, just give me a few minutes." you saw the cook laugh at her pronunciation, but he already knew the girl's favorite dish and no, they weren't the spicy ones.

"Why don't you ask me?" Zoro grumbled, crossing his arms and forcing you not to make fun of him and destroy the little authority he had - yes, little because the man had a soft heart towards his daughter. Not to mention the small jealousy he accumulated towards little Kuina.

"Uncle Sanji's are tastier." she stuck her tongue out at him, laughing with the cook afterwards.

"You know what? Let's see." Zoro marched to the edge of the sink and took the girl from the cook's legs. "You go with your mommy there while we go prepare something."

"Please don't kill yourselves." you murmured, picking the small girl up in your arms. "And you my love, what do you think about going to see Usopp fishing?"

"Yay!"

Zoro practically growled at Sanji and began to dedicate himself to his tasks. Boiled and roasted potatoes, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside in small pieces, was his daughter's favorite dish, it wasn't that difficult, was it? The presentation wasn't the best, at least not compared to Sanji's, but he watched the girl try a little of each dish. After thinking for a brief moment, she pulled out the plate made by Zoro and began to eat happily.

"This one! The dad ones!" She offered you a small potato, which you accepted. "Daddy knows how to make it too! Now I can eat 'rispys every day."

The flavor was good, but you knew that cooking wasn't your now husband's strong point. You reached out and took a small piece of Sanji's and understood what it was, seeing the blonde blink quickly at you, unnoticeable to the other two. In this case, your husband was now holding your daughter on his lap and spinning her around while she was thrilled that he would now have a new potato supplier.

"Uncle Captain Luffy will like it. Dad, shall we take some for him?" she asked showing with her little fingers the small amount she wanted to share and as always, Zoro immediately answered her.

"You know he's going to eat it all, don't you my dear?" He took the plate with his free hand and left with the girl on his lap.

"Thanks." you turned to Sanji, who smiled.

"I may not be a fan of the mosshead, but I wouldn't accept seeing little Kuina disappointed." he replied, removing the dishes that had accumulated on the table and tasting some of the potato he had made. "I just didn't add any seasoning."

"The shitty cook doesn't know how to cook." you both heard him cheering outside and Kuina right behind. "Shitty cook, shiiiity, shit."

"Zoro!"

"I think I already regret helping." the blonde grumbled, watching you follow the two and give him a good scolding.

Luffy

warnings: Fluff, angst with a happy ending. Luffy is a lot more mature than usual in this one, mention of F!Reader being hurt (nothing serious). Gear 5 Luffy (yes, I'm still excited about his latest appearance). The child's name is Ravi, which means sun.

The floor of the small room that the two of you shared seemed to be about to sink with all the turns you had already taken and you were amazed that the test in your hands hadn't yet broken from so many times that it bumped against your fingers in pure anxiety.

"Hey, did you call me?" Luffy appeared at the door noticing that you were alone. "Finally, just the two of us!" he vibrated, about to grab you.

Since the two of you had left Foosha Village, you hadn't let go of each other. You started as rivals when you were children in Dadan's house and it took you a few months after entering the sea to understand the true feelings you had for each other. It didn't take long for him to call you his own pirate queen and introduce you as his girlfriend.

"Hi! Are you around?" he waved in front of you, taking you away from the memories of a past that was already distant and so different from what you would face.

"Luffy, we need to talk." you tried to take a firmer stance.

"As your captain or as your boyfriend?" He remembered the little agreement the two of you had made, to separate matters to maintain order - more precisely so you wouldn't kill your boyfriend when he stole food from your plate and, consequently, be left without a captain too.

"I think both, I don't know." a frustrated sigh left you, shoulders carrying the immense burden of fear. "I was feeling strange a few days ago, I was late…"

"Late for what?"

"I'm pregnant!" you spat out the words quickly. If the man hadn't been paying attention, he would barely have caught it. "I'm pregnant, Luffy."

"This is…" he sat down on the bed, lowering his head. You had never touched on such a subject, it barely crossed your mind what his attitude would be.

"I understand it's a lot, I'm scared too…Luffy?"

His laughter took over the room as soon as your feet left the floor and he turned you around, pressing your body tightly against his arms.

"A baby! A mini me or a mini you!" he vibrated and noticed your expression close. "Don't you want a mini me?"

"Not that. Just don't…" your hand went to your mouth, containing the nausea. "No spins, for a while."

"Ah, sorry." he placed you on the ground, more carefully. "How do you feel?"

"A little scared, I guess." You laughed lightly when you saw him bend down to analyze your belly. He promptly put his ear to it, trying to hear something. "Babe, the baby is the size of a grape now, it's a little hard to hear."

"But I know he knows I'm here. A boy!" He placed a quick kiss on your skin. You wouldn't question the fact that he's sure the baby is a boy.

"I think this is the best treasure I could find." you murmured, hugging your boyfriend and allowing yourself to stay there for a few seconds.

"Love?" his voice called to you quietly. "Can I tell everyone?"

"For sure!"

"Guys!!!" He barely waited for you to respond and pulled you out the door, shouting for his friends. "Let's have another crewmate."

"What idea is this Luffy?" Nami cut off her own scolding when she saw him pointing at her belly.

"We're going to have a baby!" your fear ceased for a while when you saw everyone vibrate with the news.

The time you had to find your balance, you lost when you felt Nami and Robin hug you together, happy for the news. It didn't take long for your other companions to congratulate you on the new life that had emerged there.

"Luffy, we need to stop at an island soon so I can get some materials." Chopper warned and the captain immediately agreed.

"Sanji, can we have a feast to celebrate, please." Luffy asked for cook, being interrupted by you who joined him.

"Meat…" the word alone brought the flavor to your mouth. "I need to eat meat and a pie, please Sanji. It could even be meat pie." you asked, clinging to the cook, in the best Luffy style. Noticing the attitude, you soon resumed your posture. "I think I have a little craving… for meat."

It was undeniable that Luffy's genes were strong in the little child who was growing month by month. Restless, the unborn baby was always making you incessantly hungry and seemed to think your belly was made of elastic. Anyone who looked at you would find you with a small package of snacks in hand or grumbling to Luffy about why he had to insist on poking your belly when the baby was quiet, making the child start kicking again. Luffy still didn't seem to have much of an idea of ​​what having a pregnant girlfriend was like. Occasionally he would steal your snacks or make plans that involved you, getting slapped by other companions.

"She's strong and I'm sure our son will be too." was his common response every time.

The contour of the bulge of your belly was already noticeable at six months of pregnancy and even so, you liked to follow Luffy and the others on each new island they stepped on. This time, you didn't expect that a little shopping break would turn into a horror so quickly. An enemy of Luffy had found you along with Nami and Sanji and even though the cook was capable of fighting, he couldn't hold off the man and his henchmen for so long.

Your head was small compared to the man's hand that held it. The instinct taking over your body made you bring your arms to your belly, protecting the being that was developing there, while he dragged you to where Luffy was. As you approached, for the first time in a while you saw terror in your beloved's eyes.

"I see there have been interesting changes." The man's slurred voice irritated you more than usual. He lifted you off the ground and gave your stomach a little poke. "As far as I know, I bet it's a little straw hat."

"Let. Her. Go." the threat implied in Luffy's voice was different than most times. You remembered seeing him like this when a tenryuubito decided to hit Hatchan, but still, he seemed to have more hate in him than you had ever witnessed. "I told you, keep your hands off her."

"As you wish."

Disdain was present in the man's every attitude and in the same way that he had barely used his strength to lift you, he did the same to throw you meters away. With the wind against your body and the screams of your friends like blurs passing by you, you cringed and waited for the impact that didn't come. Instead, you felt something wrap around you and your body land against something soft.

When you opened your eyes, you found Luffy holding you, putting you on your feet even though he didn't let go.

"You're okay, you're alive, you're okay…" the words came out of his mouth like a mantra. It was like seeing relief and fear walking side by side.

As soon as his hands released you, you felt yourself staggering, being supported by someone behind you. Luffy's hands held your face delicately as if a breath could take you away. He took off his straw hat and placed it on you and one of his hands rested on your belly, feeling the agitation under your skin, which seemed to bring the lucidity he needed.

"Jinbe, take her back to the ship." Luffy didn't bother to look at his companion who had just approached, his eyes roamed your face in search of any discomfort. The hand that remained on your face wiped away a small tear that insisted on falling. "Take Chopper with you, get all the tests possible."

"I am fine." you tried to reassure him, seeing that your words had been in vain. "Baby, we're both fine."

"Zoro, protect them." Luffy asked and only then did you realize it was the swordsman supporting you. "Don't let anyone get close to them. Don't let anyone lay a hand on my girl and my son."

"Okay. Jinbe, you carry her. Chopper, stay alert too, but your priority is to get to the ship with the two of them." the mate gave the orders and before your feet left the ground, you felt Luffy place a quick kiss on the small gap between your forehead and the straw hat.

"Those who are left, don't let any of his idiots get out of here. I'm going to finish that bastard off." the last glimpse you saw of Luffy was of his hair turning white.

Something changed that day. The baby was fine, you were fine - enough for Zoro to restrain you and prevent you from returning to the battlefield. Lying on your bed, you curled up again, this time wracked with worries about your captain and boyfriend. Using the straw hat as your companion, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and wait. The sun was already gone when you woke up from your brief nap to feel arms squeeze you tightly.

"Lu?" you turned around and found him smiling, even if a little lighter than usual. Some scratches on the face, but apparently fine.

He took your lips voraciously, capturing them and holding them to his. Your hands soon tangled in the dark strands of his hair and gave him space to fit around your legs, but Luffy moved away.

"Chopper said you're okay, just scared, but you need to rest so our son can be okay too." the captain slid on the bed, until his face was aligned with your belly.

Luffy lifted the cloth that hid your skin and covered your belly with kisses, in silence. Your hands, which previously sought to get tangled in his hair, opted for a light caress.

"I promised to protect you two and today…"

"Today you protected us, love." you interrupted before he even considered finishing the thought. Taking one of his hands, you led him to where the child was kicking. "And someone agrees with me."

From that day on, you saw Luffy change and consequently, you did too. He no longer teased you about your strange diet and didn't even make jokes about the snoring you started to have every night or because you looked like a cuddly ball - except when he, with the help of Usopp and Chopper - tied a watermelon to his belly. and pretended to be you at the end of the pregnancy. Now the words you had said to him "I think this is the best treasure I could find" made more sense to him.

It was early morning when little Ravi was born. The sea water was more crystal clear than usual and your body was sweating cold even though the night was hot when the first contractions hit and lasted throughout the morning. Chopper had chosen Robin and Nami as assistants while Luffy remained there by your side, using the power of the fruit to avoid feeling the strong grip of your hand against him.

Along with the first rays of the morning sun, Ravi came into the world and illuminated Luffy's face. As soon as the boy stopped crying in his father's lap, it was like watching two long-lost friends reunite after so much waiting, Luffy didn't know that he had been waiting for this his whole life and now he knew that he would never be able to stay away from the boy. In a way, it reminded you of the way little Luffy looked at Ace with admiration when they were still children.

He took the feeling seriously since little Ravi became his father's shadow and Luffy didn't make much of a point of preventing the boy from doing something wrong.

"Luffy!" you screamed as you saw him about to throw the two year old into the air.

"But he likes it."

"Sun…Ravi." the little one mumbled a few things.

"See? He wants to reach the sun." Luffy laughed, throwing the child at a much lower height than he intended at the beginning, eliciting a laugh from the baby. "Who wants to go again?"

"That's enough, you two." You stretched your arms to catch the baby, who promptly reached towards you. "It's time for someone to eat!"

"Yay! Let's eat some good food, kid." Luffy ignored you and headed to the kitchen. Before he reached the door, you took little Ravi from him.

"Just little Ravi." you corrected him and saw him mumble.

With each passing year, he became even more like his own father, which meant double work for you. At least at 8 years old, Ravi still had a little more calm than Luffy.

"Zoro!" he walked across the deck to the swordsman "My father said he was going fishing."

"That's good, it means fresh fish for lunch."

"The problem is that the fish caught him. He hasn't come back to the surface for a few minutes." Ravi said without much concern. "Can I go get him? I know how to swim, I don't think my daddy can."

"What the fuck Luffy!" Zoro dropped his swords and threw himself into the sea, attracting his other companions.

"Do not even think about it." Nami warned the boy who was about to reach for one of Zoro's swords.

"But Nami…" he mumbled, lacking the patience to argue. In the same way that she imputed fear to the father, it worked on the son.

"They're too big for your age." you saw him mumble just like Luffy and you had to hold back your laughter.

"Ravi!" Luffy's voice attracted the two of you to the end of the ship where he was, soaked and being scolded immensely by Zoro.

"Wow dad, what a big fish. All this for us?" the boy poked the little monster lying in the deck.

"That's right." Luffy laughed alongside the boy. You thought it was adorable that their laugh was identical.

"Hey Sanji, I'm hungry." they both shouted. Apparently, the appetite was also similar.

Ace

Warnings: fluff, a little angst until Ace finds out, Marco and F!Reader are best friends. Ace just wants to be loved by his baby. And for the record, I know Whitebeard would be a badass grandfather.

"Wait…" Marco began, analyzing your figure standing there biting his nails in front of him. "I thought you heard me when I explained it to you. You know, condoms, medicine, yoi."

"I heard, but maybe I forgot one…" his critical look made you change your tone. "Okay, I forgot to use protection a few times."

"Sit there already." he gave up and waited for you to curl up on the stretcher. Once you did, you watched him prepare a small kit.

"Why do you keep a pregnancy test kit?" You tried to take the object from his hand, but the doctor quickly dodged it.

"I don't keep it." Your eyes watched him concentrate and insert the needle into your arm, drawing a small amount of blood. "You've only been vomiting for two weeks and you've also been refusing to drink with alcohol. I'm a good doctor, yoi."

"And now?"

"Now…" he dripped the blood onto a small white spatula and placed it next to you on the stretcher. "We waited, for five minutes."

"All of this?"

"I've been waiting for you to bring this up for two weeks, don't complain." he replied.

"I needed Ace to be busy or out of here." you simply responded, turning your attention to the clock hanging next to one of the cabinets.

For the remaining minutes you stood there, legs shaking from side to side and watching a Marco as anxious as you. As soon as the hand reached the long-awaited minute, the two of you turned to the test together.

“Two risks…” you started.

"Positive. Looks like I've been promoted to uncle!" the man smiled, containing the feeling when he saw your face.

"I'm pregnant." the phrase still sounded strange to your ears, so sudden and unexpected. "I'm pregnant." you tested again, trying to improve your expression.

"You're pregnant! Now we need to do some more tests to make sure everything is ok. Dad will be happy when he hears about this." Marco placed the test results on a table away from the two of you. "I suggest an ultrasound, it would also be good to see some blood tests."

"My God, Marco, I'm pregnant!" A certain happiness crossed your expression, eliciting a laugh from your closest friend and brother.

"Now you're ready to jump…"

"You are pregnant?" you both turned as you heard a third voice join the room.

Ace looked at the two of you, waiting for some kind of justification, but at the same time it felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. You were still there, the same girl he had left to follow to a nearby island a few days ago, but now it seemed different. There was almost a glow emanating from you to his eyes.

"Ace, can we talk?" your voice reached his ears, but his mind was in a distant place.

Ace took a few steps back, moving away from the small infirmary and disappearing from your field of vision. You and the doctor looked at each other, surely this was the last reaction either of you would have thought of having.

"Are you feeling good?" Marco's voice pulled you back to reality. "Hey, look at me, yoi."

"I need to talk to him." You ignored your friend's question and went in search of your boyfriend.

From his reaction, you knew you had two options and to solve the first of them, you leaned over and saw that the Striker was still docked and with no one around, you immediately ran towards your room, finding the door closed.

Two knocks weren't enough to get his attention, so ignoring any possible chaotic scene you were going to encounter, you entered the room unceremoniously. The idea of ​​finding the room on fire crossed your mind, but was soon dismissed when you found Ace sitting on the bed, his face buried in his hands.

"Babe, please." You asked, trying to keep your tone calmer - despite the internal desperation in him hating you. "Please talk to me."

"Y-You…" his dark irises met yours and only then did you realize that your beloved's eyes were full of water. "I'm going to be a father?"

"My love, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." Urgently, you moved closer, holding his face in your hands. "I know it's kind of scary, but I promise we'll figure it out."

"No, no. That's not the problem." he sniffled, not allowing any of the tears to flow. His hand threatened to touch your belly and withdrew. "What if I'm not a good father? What if this child doesn't love me."

"Think about how much I love you Ace, how much you love me." you stated almost obviously, gaining his attention. "What can come out of here, besides love?" your hands found your belly for the first time after the discovery.

Your body was enveloped in a tight hug, his face was almost buried in your belly, while you caressed his dark locks.

"I love you so much." He turned to you, noticing the slight discomfort, he moved his chin away from your stomach. "Oops, I'm sorry."

"It's okay…Ace!!" you screamed as you felt your body hit the bed, now with him fitting between your legs.

When it came to loving you, Ace could be as hot as the fire that emanated from him, strong as the waves that insisted on crashing against Moby Dick. Except that day. His lips touched yours gently, his body didn't press against yours, just covered it lightly. The delicate kisses went down to your belly, being placed as if they always belonged there. His lips found your face again, his smile hovered over yours.

"We need to talk to Marco." he began, interrupting himself to allow his kisses to cover your face again. "I need to know everything that's going on."

"Well, you know now."

"Not this." he grumbled. "We need exams, to know if everything is ok with you two, we also need to know what a baby needs. My god, are you going to give birth here at Moby Dick? We barely have room for the two of us…"

"Calm down, stay calm." you asked as you watched him spiral. With his support, you got back on your feet, holding out your hand for him to get up. "I have a better idea of ​​what we can do."

You expected some commotion, of course. Maybe even a few tears. You didn't expect to see Ace crying like a baby when telling Whitebeard that he was going to be a grandfather and consequently, bringing some tears from your old man and several other colleagues also shedding tears. It was good to know that your little baby would arrive surrounded by love.

The months that followed the discovery were more peaceful than you imagined and even though for a long time you had insisted to your father that there were too many men on that ship, you couldn't complain about being so spoiled.

Want to eat something different? Thatch had it ready within minutes of you ordering. Marco walked like a shadow behind you and Ace - this by his own choice and by Whitebeard's direct order, since on one of the days you were sick, you had almost killed the three men of the heart. It was adorable to see how Ace worried about the mission that was getting closer every month. More than once, you found him in Whitebeard's room, asking for tips on what to do with the baby, how to help you at this time and how he could be a good father. The idea of ​​not being loved by his own son haunted him more than you might expect. Everything seemed great, except one detail: the two of you couldn't agree on the name.

The little baby decided to arrive a few weeks ahead of schedule, which caused widespread chaos on the boat. Ace was having dinner with the other commanders when your scream reached his ears, along with Whitebeard's scream that echoed louder than any earthquake he had ever created, prompting them to speed up the preparations for the birth. Apparently, immense pain arose when you and your father were talking, which led you to stay in the ship's medical wing for hours. Your screams were heard throughout the ship while Ace served as your support point. The little boy was born and if you hadn't been feeling so weak, you would have laughed at the screams of joy coming from outside the room as they heard his cries.

"Ace?" you called to him, who held you even tighter in his arms. "I think I have an idea for the name. Can you see if we can use it?"

You whispered in his ear, making Marco curious. Ace delicately left behind you, who was holding the little baby and ignoring the blood that still stained his hands, he left the ship in search of a specific person. A few minutes later, you saw your beloved enter the room again, accompanied by your dad.

"Can I take that as a yes?" you saw Whitebeard bend down to get closer to the baby. "Meet your grandson, Alev Edward Newgate."

If you were spoiled during your pregnancy by Ace, you couldn't imagine what it would be like with little Alev. The child was never alone - or at least walking on two feet. There was always one of his uncles who could pick him up and carry him around the ship. Marco, who called himself the child's uncle and godfather even though he had not been baptized, had already lost count of how many times he had to redo the serums and medicines he applied to Whitebeard, since Alev - with his grandfather's permission, used the height difference to make it like a little personal slide.

And Ace, who was completely in love with the little piece of love you two had brought to the world, even when he messed up.

"Papa!" you and Ace, who were playing cards with other friends, heard the child scream and a laugh soon after. You already lowered your deck knowing that it anticipated some new prank.

"What is it Alev?" Ace spoke loudly so the boy could hear him and know where he was.

You don't know how your blood pressure didn't drop or how Ace didn't have a heart attack when he saw the child in your not-so-calm and serene days coming twirling a burning cloth in one hand and in the other a lighter that only God should know where he found.

"Look papa, I can control fire just like you!" the boy rolled the cloth and you prepared to move forward and take it from him, but you were anticipated by Ace, who placed his hand exactly where the cloth would hit Alev's freckled face.

"You can't do that, ever again." Ace raised his voice, taking the cloth that was half ash and the lighter from the boy. "You are crazy?"

"But daddy, I want to be like you."

"That doesn't mean setting everything on fire, my little flame." you warned and saw the child threaten to cry. Ace noticed immediately, regretting the little scream.

"I can't believe you're such a crybaby." Ace said in a teasing tone, throwing the boy over his shoulder. "Does your grandfather know about this? He won't like having a crybaby pirate at all."

"No daddy, I already stopped, I already stopped." you heard your son mumble in the distance, drying his tears. "I just wanted to be cool like you."

"My son, you are the coolest kid ever." Ace let Alev slip out of his arms and hugged him, stopping him from reaching the ground. "You know I love you very much, don't you?"

"I love you sooooo much more daddy."

[tastefulsimp]

Emmrich (non-lich) & female Rook - Engagement & Expecting

This is for all my depraved Emmrich girlies who yearn. (And the girlies who wanna give Manfred a human sibling) This was supposed to just be random head canons, but kinda turned into a fic, or an imagine.

After your adventures came to an end, he decided there was no point in wasting time. He proposed to you in the memorial gardens a few months after things had settled down.

Before he asked for your hand, he stopped by his parent’s graves to let them know how much he wished they could meet their new daughter-in-law.

Being the old-fashioned courting type, he also asked for the blessing of your closest companions and faction members. He made sure to include fallen companions as well, informing their shrines of his intentions with you.

When you said yes, he was over the moon. He wasn’t sure how he ever caught your attention. A young, fresh-faced adventurer like you, should have been with someone similar. Yet, you said yes. He was to be your husband, and you were to be his wife.

He always imagined he would get married, he confessed this to Harding on your journeys. But as the years passed, the idea felt further and further out of his reach.

You both cried as he slid his mother’s ring onto your finger.

Since the engagement, you had been searching for a townhouse in Nevarra City. Of course, you’d still spend a lot of time in the lighthouse. And, there would need to be an Elluvian moved there. But, a private place for your little family was necessary.

Manfred would be needing a quiet place to study since joining the academy. He was thrilled at the idea of having his own room.

Things had been very passionate between you since the engagement. Something about wearing a ring and preparing to take his last name made you want him constantly.

It did something similar for him. Knowing that the world knew your heart belonged to him, and his to you— was electrifying.

As a couple you had also been a little less careful since the engagement.

You decided on an intimate ceremony with just loved ones. With a bigger reception in the ballroom of the Necropolis.

With a date set in a month, and the final negotiations on your new home the next day. Emmrich invited you to a nice dinner.

He was surprised when you declined the server’s offer of a vintage red wine to pair with your meal.

Even more so when you declined fruit tarts after learning they were made with Papaya. A fruit in which he had come to learn, you quite enjoyed.

That morning when he woke to find you not in bed, and heard someone evacuating the contents of their stomach in the infirmary, he was concerned.

When you returned to bed, he caressed a concerned hand across your cheek and asked if you were alright. He made you promise to see a healer after you claimed it was just an upset stomach.

You had some business in Minrathous that morning, and figured you would stop by a healer on your way to that meeting. After all, you promised.

As you took a seat at table, Dorian and Neve both shot out of their seats when they noticed how pale you were.

“I’ll be fine. I— Can you two keep a secret?” you said, smiling at them.

You were late getting back to the lighthouse, and found Emmrich impatiently waiting for your return.

“Darling, you’re late. We must hurry to the closing on the house— wait, what did the healer say? Is everything alright?” He said, scolding you as you came through the Elluvian, his tone softening once he remembered your ailment from last night.

You smiled at him, and grabbed his hands before reaching up to kiss him. Then whispering in his ear.

Your whispered confession stopped Emmrich in his tracks. His eyes widened as he took a step back to look you over, slowly turning his head to one side in astonishment. Tears filled your eyes as you smiled and nodded. Emmrich attempted to speak, stumbling over his words as tears pricked his eyes, before he rushed in and wrapped you in his arms. Both of you rocked gently while you wept tears of joy.

After closing on the house, he gently lifted you across the threshold of your new home, and placed you back on the floor. Then kneeled to kiss your stomach, before standing and wrapping his arms around you and Manfred.

Later that night, he suggested moving the ceremony date to next week. Call him old-fashioned, but he was going to make an honest woman out of you.

and they lived happily ever after, the end.

[sansaorgana]

— DAMAGED GOODS

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader // Rabban/Harkonnen!OC

SUMMARY — The servants have been telling Baron Harkonnen many times before that the relationship between his young heir and his twin sister is close. Very close. Too close. The Baron only chuckles at that. He couldn’t care less, as long as Feyd-Rautha is a warrior he wants him to be and his sister remains out of his sight.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The Reader is a Rabban/Harkonnen. I've described some of her looks – her skin is pale but not because she is *white* but because they're all pale (due to the pollution and lack of normal sunlight I guess). She has hair but it's white. I didn't describe the structure of her hair or anything and the colour is caused by the lack of pigment. Her facial features are not described in any way. Oh, and she has black teeth, too... 😁 It will be explained in the fic. I tried to make it an x Reader fic but, yeah, quite a lot about her looks is described. On the other hand, I hope it's understandable since she's Feyd's twin. I am very happy that I received this request because I've been itching to write something like that for a long time. 🤍

WARNINGS — INCEST, SMUT, non/dub-con, breeding

WORD COUNT — 6,610

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DAMAGED GOODS

Baron Harkonnen was ready to leave Lankiveil with his two nephews – small Feyd-Rautha in one of the female servants’ arms and teenage Glossu on whose shoulder The Baron was keeping his hand on. He didn’t have any heirs of his own so one day he’d name one of the boys his Na-Baron and give them his Harkonnen surname.

They nearly reached the ship when one of the female servants of Lankiveil ran up to them with a small bundle in her arms.

“My Lord,” she called out and The Baron turned around, irritated. The woman was terrified of him but she still had her duties. “What about the girl, my Lord?” She asked.

The Baron squinted his eyes at the child in her arms. Feyd-Rautha’s twin sister (Y/N) Rabban – he had no use for her.

“Give her to the Bene Gesserit or kill her, I do not care,” he commented as Glossu’s muscles stiffened under his uncle’s touch.

“She is my sister,” his eyes widened at those words. “Please, let her come with us.”

“You will soon realise that women on Giedi Prime hold no significance. A girl…” Baron Vladimir winced. “I do not wish to raise her. She will be a burden.”

“Then I will raise her. I will take care of her,” Glossu pleaded. “And one day you will find her a match, someone to marry to create a powerful alliance. She will be useful,” he kept convincing.

The Baron wanted to be feared even amongst his family members. But he didn’t want to be hated by his older nephew from the first day. Irritated, he sighed and waved his hand at the maid.

“Fine, I shall take her,” he sighed.

Hesitantly, the maid handed the child to Glossu Rabban as his uncle gave him a scolding look.

“You’re responsible for her now,” he reminded.

“She is my sister. Her place is with me and Feyd,” Rabban nodded.

About this one thing he was stubborn and about this one thing he would fight even his own uncle. Baron Vladimir decided it would be for the best to let the boy have it his way.

(Y/N) and Feyd were raised differently – he was raised to be a strong warrior and his uncle’s pet. Relentless in combat, obedient to his Master, an enjoyer of pain. Inflicting it on others but also the pain being inflicted upon him. Psychotic and murderous. His twin sister was kept away from such an environment by her older brother. He wanted her to become a grand lady. Of course Glossu Rabban had no idea about women’s education but he made sure that his little sister had dozens of tutors. The smarter and more courteous she was, the easier it would be to sell her in a marriage union one day. It didn’t mean she was easy to manage. Ever since she was a little girl, she would cause trouble by following her twin brother everywhere and wanting to be as mischievous as him. He was given the Harkonnen surname and the title of na-baron. She was just Countess (Y/N) Rabban. Many thought she was actually Glossu Rabban’s daughter. Despite being raised differently, her and Feyd were inseparable.

They were not identical twins – she was a splitting image of her mother while he remained a mix of both parents. He was born bald like most of The Harkonnens, she was lucky to keep her hair even though it lacked pigment and was snowy white. The only thing in common they had was their sickly pale Harkonnen skin… and their blood.

The servants had been telling The Baron many times before that the relationship between his young heir and his sister was close. Very close. Too close. The Baron would only chuckle at that. He couldn’t care less, as long as Feyd-Rautha was a warrior he wanted him to be and his sister remained out of his sight and out of big trouble that would require him to intervene.

(Y/N)’s chambers were connected to Feyd’s with the tall, black doors. In fact, they resided in the chambers of The Baron and The Baroness Harkonnen. These chambers had not been used in many years before Feyd was given them by his uncle in his teenage years. It was only natural that (Y/N) followed to the room attached to his. But most mornings, the servants would not find her in her bed. She was being found in her brother’s embrace, their legs intertwined, her hands wrapped around his muscular chest. As if they were still two embryos in their mother’s womb.

She could swear, she could feel pain when he was experiencing it. And out of them two, only he enjoyed it. It brought her no pleasure to see his scars from their uncle’s punishments. She would kiss them all better, every thin line of scarred flesh upon his back would be soothed with her lips. She loved to watch him train, following him around like a puppy at first but then she grew to be a fine woman herself and she no longer gave such innocent energy. All the years of trying to be invisible for her uncle had taught her how to slither around the fortress like a snake; always observant, always on guard, always quiet and unnoticeable. 

(Y/N) focused so hard on not being a bother for her uncle that she forgot other people might notice her, too.

The Baron was staring at the veiled old woman in front of him with a contemptuous smirk. Of course he would follow the Bene Gesserit's order in the end whether he wanted it or not but he needed her to see that he was not as easy to control as most of the lesser lords.

“What are you asking of me, woman?” He asked as he looked her up and down.

The Bene Gesserit sighed. She knew perfectly well that he had heard her before.

“I want to put Countess Rabban to the test of Gom Jabbar to see if she’s fit for the marriage union that shall be arranged between her and Prince Paul Atreides,” she repeated her words.

“I am not fond of that girl but she is the closest thing to a daughter I have ever had,” The Baron shook his head. “What makes you think I would give her away to an Atreides?”

“Atreides was supposed to have a daughter who would be a match for your nephew Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. His concubine gave him a son instead but it doesn’t have to mean the match cannot be arranged. After all, Feyd-Rautha has a twin sister sharing his genetic material with him.”

“And what do I get of this union?” The Baron snorted.

“Control over your enemy; The Atreides family,” the Bene Gesserit nodded her head.

“Control over them? By sending that girl over there?” The Baron laughed at the idea. “She’s a weak woman. She won’t have control over anything.”

“Paul Atreides is a boy of a gentle nature, I have tested him already. Countess Rabban will easily push him in all the directions you will ask her to,” the woman tried to convince The Baron. He knew that if he’d argue even further she would just use The Voice.

“Alright then,” he shrugged his arms. “Put her to a test. If she dies, you’ll be the one breaking the news to her brothers. I won’t deal with their pathetic tears.”

Feyd didn’t know where his sister was. It was unusual for her not to wait in her chambers in the evening. Either way, he ordered the servants to fill the bathtub with water and then told them to leave as he sank into the warm liquid after a long day filled with combat training.

The doors opened after a while and (Y/N) entered the room. She had an odd expression on her face as if she was bothered with something and he spotted a few beads of sweat upon her forehead.

“Where were you?” Feyd squinted his eyes at her.

“The Bene Gesserit asked me to join her for a while. She did something weird to me,” she answered as she worked on her dress swiftly to take it off as quickly as possible.

“What do you mean weird?” Feyd tilted his head as he watched her undress. The folds of her skirt and bodice fell down to the floor and revealed her smooth skin and all the curves.

He had asked his older brother about their mother only once. His question had been about her looks. “What did she look like?”, young Feyd had asked. And all Glossu had answered was – “Just look at our sister”.

“She put me to a test. You’d like it,” (Y/N) smirked at him as she turned around to face him and join him in the bathtub. “It was painful,” she admitted and leaned her back on the edge, facing him. She let out a relaxed moan at the feeling of the warm water.

“She hurt you,” Feyd’s question was more of a statement as his jaw clenched.

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) let out a laugh at his reaction. “Such a strong warrior you are and look at you, your older sister is your weakness,” she teased.

“Twenty minutes older,” Feyd scoffed as she chuckled at his annoyance. “Age does not matter, I could snap your neck in a second, dear sister. You have no idea how to defend yourself,” he pointed out angrily.

“Grumpy, grumpy, Feyd,” she giggled as she moved closer to him and sat astride him. Her hands caressed his muscular chest. “Don’t be so sure I’m that helpless… I’ve been watching you train my whole life. I’ve learnt a thing or two,” she lowered her face to whisper into his ear.

He felt his cock twitching at the feeling of her body on his; her sweet breath on his ear, her whisper sending shivers down his spine. He knew she didn’t mind. In fact, she was feeding off of his desire; teasing him mercilessly over and over. One thing Rabban had made very clear was that she could not be touched by any man before her wedding. But it did not mean that Feyd hadn’t been fantasising about it many times before.

She was an absolute perfection. She was like a reflection in the mirror. And who could be more beautiful and breathtaking than Feyd-Rautha himself? She was his missing part like he was hers. They completed each other in many ways but in other ways they were exactly the same. Their heartbeats and breaths were in sync, their desires were the same and he could not tell anymore whether he craved her because of the strong resemblance or had he been the one to spoil her. His childhood experience full of violence and cruelty turned him into a hypersexual predator who would fuck anything and anyone. He had been the first one to put the sexual context into their innocent touches and kisses. On the other hand, she had played along very quickly.

In the whole wide world, his twin sister was the only person who knew and understood him. They had no secrets with each other.

“You’re getting too excited, brother,” she pointed out with a smirk as she threw her arms around his neck. He looked up at her face looming over his. She was even more beautiful like that – on top of him, in control.

“You’re mine,” he let out a raspy whisper as she raised one of her white eyebrows at him. “You’re mine and only mine. Forever,” he breathed out.

“That’s an interesting concept, Feyd-Rautha,” she smiled, “but you do know that our brother is raising me to be another man’s lady.”

“You will be my Baroness and if our brother stands in the way of that happening, I will slay him,” Feyd threatened and his sister moved uncomfortably at his words.

“Stop talking nonsense,” she rose up to leave the bathtub already but Feyd grabbed her by her hair and pulled her down again as she hissed out of discomfort. He hated to inflict pain on her out of all the people but sometimes he just… had to.

“I do mean that,” he drawled as her eyes widened at him.

“I know,” she only said and he licked his lips at the sight of her chest rising up and down as she breathed heavily. He let go of her and watched her leave the bathtub and the bathroom without a word.

Feyd left the bathtub, too. He put on a simple black robe and went back to his room. His sister was laying on his bed, completely naked and playing with one of his short knives in her hands. He sighed with relief at the sight. He expected her to be offended and go to her room before locking the doors for the night.

“I’ll be back in a while,” he told her and approached the doors leading to the corridor. She snorted and he froze.

“You’re like a dog, dear brother. You men are so easy to control with your sexual urges and desires,” she commented and Feyd clenched his jaw as he turned his head around to look at her.

“I’m trying very hard not to violate you. Don’t tease,” he warned.

“Your own sister?” She grinned, showing off her black teeth.

As a child, she had insisted on dyeing them just like her twin brother. Glossu had refused – it would make her look less appealing for the future suitors. Even The Baron had told her it had not been the best idea. (Y/N) had not listened. She had sneaked into the medical wing and had done it herself. At twelve years old she had ruined herself for the first time for Feyd-Rautha.

That had been the only time when Glossu had actually punished her physically. Feyd still remembered because he had been waiting for her by the doors leading to his brother’s chambers. She had been screaming and kicking her feet while getting her arse spanked. After leaving the room, she had sniffled all the tears back and grinned at Feyd with her new black smile. “I’ve gotten my arse whooped,” she had told him proudly as if it was an achievement.

Some time later she had been caught wanting to shave her head off but it was Feyd this time who had stopped her – telling her how much he loved it, how it was making her look different than all the other women around. How much power that hair was giving her. It had made her hesitantly put the scissors down.

And now, Feyd did not answer her teasing accusation as he left the bedroom to go to his concubines, leaving his sister alone. He would join her later, when she would already be asleep. He’d pull her closer and she’d open her arms to welcome him. He’d fall asleep caressing the soft curves of her body and feeling her heartbeat pressed to his.

Two weeks later he trained as usual while (Y/N) sat nearby and watched. She would clap her hands excitedly each time he’d succeed and make a boo sound each time he’d lose. There was lots of mockery in her exaggerated reactions but he couldn’t imagine training without her around anymore.

At the sight of his brother entering the courtyard, Feyd lowered his blade and gave him an unpleasant look.

“What do you want? Why are you interrupting me?” He asked Glossu.

“I am not here for you,” his brother extended his hand towards their sister. “(Y/N), come with me. It is important,” he insisted and she whined. “Our uncle requires your presence.”

“Why?” Feyd barked. He did not like the idea of his uncle wanting something from his sister.

“It is none of your business, Feyd,” Glossu snapped at him and a second later he already had his brother’s knife pressed to his neck.

“Everything regarding (Y/N) is a business of mine,” Feyd hissed.

“Leave him alone,” she approached them as she ordered her twin brother. He took a step back and lowered the blade but only because it was her ordering him. She would always defend Glossu in all the arguments between the brothers. Feyd knew why – their older brother had been the closest thing to a father she had. He protected her, too. And that was the only thing Glossu and Feyd had in common. The love for their sister.

But only one of them loved her… so much.

She put her hands around Glossu’s arm and allowed him to lead her out of the courtyard. Feyd waved his hand dismissively at the servant he had been fighting with as he decided to follow them.

“Your presence was not requested,” his brother remarked.

“Don’t tease him so,” (Y/N) scolded him and he shut his mouth.

Glossu led them to the throne room where their uncle was sitting. But he was not alone. He had guests. Feyd and (Y/N) recognised them immediately from the pictures. The Atreides family – dignified and regally looking Duke Leto Atreides with his beautiful concubine Lady Jessica of The Bene Gesserit. Between them there was a young man standing – their son, Prince Paul Atreides. He was visibly trying to put on a brave face but he was scared and his eyes avoided the siblings who had just entered the room.

“Ah, here they are,” The Baron beckoned them over with his hand as he announced them. “My eldest nephew Count Glossu Rabban and his beloved younger sister, my niece, Countess (Y/N) Rabban.”

She let go of her older brother’s hand and stepped out to bow down slightly. Feyd sneered at that. He always would whenever she’d act like a lady – like their brother and uncle wanted her to. Like she had been taught to ever since she was a little girl.

“That insolent young man standing behind her is my heir and (Y/N)’s twin brother, Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” The Baron gave Feyd a scolding look.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lords, my Lady,” Duke Leto nodded his head at all of the siblings.

“(Y/N), child, come closer,” The Baron cooed to her unusually. He would often put on such a show in front of important guests as if he wasn’t treating her like air most of the time. But Feyd was glad that his uncle actually ignored his sister. Otherwise it would be more difficult to protect her.

She approached the guests with furrowed brows, visibly confused by this situation. Feyd’s heart already squeezed inside of his chest as he had a feeling what that was about.

“You will be married to Prince Paul Atreides,” The Baron informed her as if it was nothing.

Feyd looked at Glossu first but his brother did not look surprised at all. He had to know already and it made Feyd feel even angrier as he treated it as betrayal. He shot his uncle a furious glance and then he laid his eyes on his twin sister. To his surprise, she was smiling softly at the shy and gently looking young man.

“It is a great honour,” she bowed her head and Paul Atreides flinched a little. She noticed it. “Do not be scared of me, my Lord,” she chuckled delicately. “I am nothing like my brothers.”

Feyd gritted his teeth. Without a word – rudely and risking his uncle’s punishment – he turned around and left the room.

He saw her again in the evening. He had been training intensely for the past few hours, trying to let the frustration go. The doors leading to her bedroom were ajar and he peeked inside. (Y/N) was packing her things into black wooden chests.

“What are you doing?” Feyd asked her as his blood ran cold.

“I shall take a different room from now on. It is inappropriate for us to share one,” she muttered without even looking up at him.

“Since when do you care?” Feyd leaned on the wall and watched her carefully, trying not to show how much he was panicking on the inside.

“Since I am getting married soon,” she shrugged her arms and he snorted at her.

“You really think I’m going to allow this union, dear sister?” He asked and she turned her face around with her brows furrowed.

“You have nothing to say in that matter, brother,” she reminded him. “You are nothing but our uncle’s pet. The psychotic and fearsome Feyd-Rautha… If only they knew that you’re not scary at all,” she remarked as his jaw clenched.

“I will kill him if I must. That boy, Paul Atreides,” Feyd threatened.

“We both know you will not. It would have consequences greater than you and I can even imagine,” she smiled but he noticed the curls of her lips twitching. She was nervous.

“How can you not oppose this marriage?” Feyd let his guard down as he asked genuinely, expecting an answer just as honest.

His sister’s facial expression changed as well. She approached him and cupped his face in her delicate, soft hands.

“I’ve always known I would leave Giedi Prime eventually. I could only hope for a good husband and Paul Atreides is good. He is young and pretty and naive. My life as his Duchess will be easy and pleasant,” she explained softly. “I’ve always known I would leave Giedi Prime and I couldn’t wait for that day. I want to… No, I need to get away from here… from you,” she whispered as his eyes widened at her revelation. “You’re poisonous, Feyd-Rautha. You have spoiled me already, ruined me, stained me. And everywhere I go, our uncle’s sticky spiderweb surrounds me, suffocates me,” she finished before leaning in to place a gentle goodbye kiss upon his lips.

She wanted to move away but he grabbed her cheeks and aggressively pulled her closer once again, kissing her yet again but possessively and hungrily. She didn’t kiss him back this time.

When he finally let go of her, they were both breathing heavily but there was nothing but anger in their eyes.

“Stay away from me and stay away from Paul Atreides,” she warned her brother and he walked out of her room before slamming the doors behind him, furiously.

But Feyd did not stay away. Whenever he was not in the courtyard, training vigorously and slaying his opponents one after another with the ferocity he had not displayed before, he would follow (Y/N) and her husband-to-be around the fortress. He didn’t trust any servant to spy on them for him, no, he had to do it himself.

Paul Atreides was left alone for two weeks on Giedi Prime and after that time he would take the Countess with him to Caladan. He was scared of his betrothed’s planet as he was widening his eyes at everything as she explained to him gently. Usually Feyd was catching them in the maze of countlessly corridors as they walked together. Soft laughter of his sister occasionally filled the cold marble walls. 

He was nearly always there; creeping in the shadows, watching, observing, gritting his teeth at her every smile or blush. Paul Atreides, visibly scared of her at first, was slowly starting to get used to her presence. And one day he dared to lean in and steal a delicate kiss from her lips.

Feyd clenched his fists at the sight as he was hiding behind the pillar. His sister’s lips had never been kissed before by any man other than him. His blood boiled when he realised that not only Paul Atreides would kiss her but also claim her as his own and put his weak and pathetic heirs inside her womb.

No, that could not happen. She was made for him, she was his other half. Feyd-Rautha would not let any other man take her away from him.

He turned around and quietly went to the living quarters where he found the room that now belonged to his sister. He barked at the servant girls to leave him and they ran away, startled by his anger. Once he was alone in (Y/N)’s bedroom, he patiently waited.

After a while, he heard her footsteps down the corridor. He would recognise them everywhere. He stood behind the doors as his heart pounded in his chest from the anticipation.

She pushed the doors open and walked inside, looking around for her servant girls. Feyd was standing behind her and observing her carefully, wondering when she’d notice him.

“I know you’re here,” she sighed without looking back. “I can recognise your stench,” she drawled.

He growled at her insolent words as he swiftly moved forward and grabbed her by her hair, pulling it by the roots and making her hiss out of pain. He pulled her closer to him, rested her body on his and smirked while pressing his cheek to hers.

“You’ve never seemed to complain about my scent before, dear sister,” he pointed out.

“I meant that you stink of sweat and blood at this very moment,” she fixed herself, still wincing out of pain he was inflicting upon her. “What do you want from me?”

“I saw you with him,” he breathed out.

“I know. I see you in the shadows every time,” she sneered. “I recommend finding a different hobby.”

“You’re mine. If you think I’m going to let you leave Giedi Prime, carry his surname and bear his filthy Atreides children in your womb, then you are mistaken, sister,” Feyd whispered angrily into her ear before biting on her earlobe.

She did not answer but in her eyes he spotted fear. Real fear, not her usual playful demeanour. For the first time in her life she was truly scared of her twin brother. Perhaps for the first time she understood why others feared him.

Still holding her by her white hair, he walked her to the bed and threw her on it. She immediately tried to crawl away and run away from him but he grabbed her ankle and watched her struggle with a smirk.

“Leave me alone,” she tried to command him. And usually he would listen to her orders but not now, too blinded by jealousy.

In one swift movement he brought her closer by her ankle and tore her dress and underwear open with his small knife. She looked up at him with anger, fear and a dose of excitement that made him smirk. Her body betrayed her – she wanted it, too. 

He was rock hard already at the sight of her like that for him. She was like a prey on display for him to feast upon. Feyd licked his lips and turned her around. He took his cock out of his leather pants as she tried to stand up on her shaky hands and legs to get away. Before she’d move too far, he pulled her close once again with a laugh.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he threatened and pressed his blade under her chin.

On her hands and knees with her beautiful white hair resting on her back – he had been dreaming of claiming her from behind this way for years now. She was trembling out of fear and anger but she couldn’t scream for help when his blade was so close to her larynx.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned in closer to her ear. “You’re my other half.”

He felt her swallowing thickly under his blade as he smirked to himself and moved the knife away. Before she could scream, he pushed her head down into her pillow, muffling any sound that would leave her mouth.

“No Atreides will fuck you. No other man will at all, for that matter,” he barked at her, his cock twitching already at the sight of her exposed womanhood. “You’re mine,” he reminded her.

She tried to protest but he couldn’t understand the words she was saying. He pressed her head even deeper into the pillow and with his free hand he ran across her folds, finding her clit and pinching it as she squealed and kicked her feet.

She was so delicate and sensitive, his dear sister. He took a deep breath in as he was starting to get dizzy from the sight and smell alone. He worked his fingertips around her sweet spot and noticed her muscles relaxing as her will to fight him off started to subdue gradually. At the first feeling of her warm wetness, he gathered it and brought his fingers to his mouth. Feyd hummed at the taste.

“Do you know what you taste like?” He asked her angrily and pulled her hair again. She shook her head. “Like me,” he pointed out. “Because we belong together,” he reminded her and she whined.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed her now. He pumped his hard cock a few times before lining it up with her tight hole. Feyd nearly felt bad for his sweet sister, for the pain she would experience now. But no feeling was stronger than his lust.

He entered her in one deep thrust while she yelped and writhed; even the pillow was not able to muffle the pathetic sound leaving her mouth. He closed his eyes at the feeling of her warm and tight walls spasming around his length. She was perfect, she was made for him and him only. They were finally complete again; one body, one soul.

“You will rule with me as my Baroness,” he hissed as his hips began to thrust into her. “We will bring back the old traditions, keep our bloodline pure. And you will give me heirs,” he crooned to her maliciously. “You were made to do that, sweet sister. Made for me. Me,” he kept repeating.

She drooled and sobbed into the soft silky pillow as her hands were clutching on the sheets. She was helpless under him but what she hated the most was that part of her that did not want him to stop. That part of her that felt the same way as her brother – complete at the feeling of him fucking her. Like she was finally connected to the long lost part of her body.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head with each of his thrust, filling her so thoroughly, making her feel full and overwhelmed as he was hitting all the right spots inside of her. She knew that sweet and gentle Paul Atreides would never claim her this way. No one would. Only her twin brother knew how to please her. He understood her more than anybody else.

He spoiled her, he ruined her, he was poisonous. But who said she didn’t want it? Her body betrayed her as it admitted that she craved it.

What she feared were the consequences of this act. The consequences of breaking the fragile truce with The Atreides, the consequences of breaking up the engagement that had been not only prepared by The Baron himself but also plotted by the dangerous Bene Gesserit.

None of it mattered, though. None of it was important with Feyd's cock buried so deep inside of her, his hand pushing her face into the pillow and making her suffocate slightly, which only enhanced the pleasure. His free hand was squeezing her hip and marking it as he grunted and cooed to her all those blasphemous promises about their shared life together, their compatibility, their bodies being made for one another.

She came first; suddenly and without a warning. Her body spasmed and trembled as her limbs went numb. At the feeling of her tight walls fluttering around his cock, Feyd reached his peak right after but he did not pull out for a long time, emptying himself as deep inside of her as he could; straight into her womb.

His sister whined at the feeling of his thick, black cum coating her walls but now, after his release, most of his anger was gone as well, so he just caressed her head and shushed her.

“Shh, dear sister, just take it like you were made to,” he cooed and she didn’t have any strength in her body to fight it anymore.

When he eventually pulled out, he watched her pussy twitching deliciously as a small streamlet of his black cum leaked out of it and stained her grey sheets, mixing with a few droplets of blood.

“Now, when you’ve been claimed by me,” Feyd smirked to himself proudly as he hid his cock back into his pants, “no other man will want you. Not when you’re surely carrying my spawn in your womb,” he added and left the room without a word.

He refused to watch her laying there and sobbing silently, trying to collect her breath and clumsily stand up to go to the bathroom. Some part of him regretted his act and seeing his beloved sister in such a state was bringing him no pleasure. He couldn’t take this back now, though, and he didn’t want to. It just had to be done.

The room was dead silent. Old Bene Gesserit woman was staring at Countess Rabban in disbelief and the young woman held her head down with her hands clasped around her abdomen as if she was protecting her spawn from The Reverend Mother’s gaze.

Both Baron Harkonnen and Duke Atreides looked displeased but only the second one was also visibly disgusted. His son was standing by his side; shocked and scared. Saddened. Disappointed.

Glossu Rabban’s face showed nothing but disappointment and disgust as well. His anger was aimed mostly at his younger brother. He refused to believe his sister could be as rotten as Feyd-Rautha – the only person in the room who actually looked proud as he straightened himself and smirked at everyone gathered inside.

“What are you smiling about, boy?” The Reverend Mother scolded him. “Have you got any idea what you have done?”

“I’ve claimed my sister as my own. It is an old tradition of the Great Houses to practise,” he reminded her.

“Which was abandoned a long time ago for a reason!” The Bene Gesserit snapped at him. “Your sister was supposed to give birth to Paul Atreides’ son and bring Kwisatz Haderach to life!”

“I do not care about your schemes,” Feyd rolled his eyes as he moved closer to his sister.

“Stay away from her,” Glossu barked.

“Or what? She’s already carrying my child inside of her, is she not?” Feyd asked, proudly as most of the room flinched with disgust.

“She can still bear Kwisatz Haderach,” The Baron tried to desperately save the situation. “We can get rid of that spawn inside of her and still give her to Paul Atreides. Obviously, not as a wife anymore,” he assured Duke Leto. “As a whore that she apparently is.”

Feyd clenched his jaw at his words as he took a step ahead of (Y/N) and covered her body with his from the sight.

“Over my dead body any of you will touch my sister or my child,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

“Inbreeding your bloodline might have morbid consequences,” The Reverend Mother informed him. “She’s carrying a demon.”

Feyd snorted at her. Was he supposed to be scared of her words? They only made him even more proud.

At those words, Baron Harkonnen squinted his eyes at the Bene Gesserit woman. He visibly liked the idea of having demonic heirs as well.

“I've changed my mind. We will not get rid of the child,” he decided. “Feyd-Rautha is my na-baron. If he chooses to marry his twin sister, then that is his right,” he said.

“That is plain disrespect!” Duke Leto raised his voice. “We have agreed to this union despite the bride being… not of the best quality. We have brought our son here, to this poisoned planet and nothing but humiliation awaited him here.”

Duke Leto pushed his son lightly in the direction of the doors as they walked out, offended. The guards looked at The Baron Harkonnen questioningly.

“Let them go,” he chuckled. “Soon, their time will come anyway.”

“Not before we secure young Paul Atreides’ bloodline!” The Reverend Mother widened her eyes at him as she ran after Duke Leto. “My Lord, please wait, I have another brides to offer that will suit your son just right…!” Her voice disappeared when the heavy doors closed behind them all.

“So, it’s settled,” Baron Harkonnen took a look at his nephews and niece as he puffed on his pipe and sighed. “You owe me for that, Feyd,” he pointed out and his young nephew bowed down. “I knew that you children would bring me nothing but trouble.”

“I am sorry!” Glossu exclaimed all of sudden as everyone looked at him, surprised. “I am sorry for failing, uncle! I was supposed to look after her, to protect her, to make sure everything goes right…”

“But everything did go right,” Baron Harkonnen laughed contemptuously. “(Y/N), darling, come here…” He reached his hand out and the young woman nodded her head before approaching her uncle, obediently. “When you were a little baby, I wanted to get rid of you,” he admitted as he held her hand. “Your brother Glossu was the one to convince me you would be useful one day. He swore to raise you.”

(Y/N) didn’t react to those words. She only stood there and looked deep into her uncle’s eyes.

“Turns out he was right,” The Baron continued, “you are very useful for The House Harkonnen. You will bear us strong heirs that shall take over the whole Empire…” He hummed and she nodded. “From now on, even before your wedding to your brother, you will be known as Countess (Y/N) Harkonnen. I adopt you,” he announced as her eyes sparkled.

“Thank you, uncle,” she let go of his hand to take a step back and bow her head down.

Feyd stood behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Glossu was staring at them as if he wanted to kill them both at that moment. Even his baby sister whom he had raised was suddenly more important in the family hierarchy than him.

“You have my blessing,” The Baron told them and dismissed them all with a wave of his hand.

Feyd walked his sister out of the throne room with his hands still on her shoulders. He was as protective as ever with her now when she was in her delicate state.

He took her back to their shared chambers to which she had returned recently. He sat her down on the edge of his bed and approached the vanity table to get a brush before sitting behind her and taking care of her long, white hair. Delicately working on every small tangle, sniffing the scent of her favourite hair oils, smiling to himself at the thought he would have her for himself forever from now on.

“Are you happy, dear sister?” He asked as he gathered her hair to throw it out of her left shoulder and place a kiss on the exposed skin of her neck.

“We belong together,” she answered, her hands still clasped on her abdomen protectively as if that demonic spawn inside of her needed protection. “I was made for you,” she added.

She would not get away from Giedi Prime. She would not be given to any lord and run away from The Harkonnens. In fact, now she was a Harkonnen, too. Her fate was to rule alongside Feyd-Rautha as his sister-wife.

“I asked, are you happy, dear sister?” He repeated the question, squinting his eyes at her.

She took a deep breath in. She knew that he would know if she lied to him but she didn’t feel the need to hide anything from him. Therefore, she spoke the truth:

“I am.”

MASTERLIST

[justauthoring]

stubborn.

request(s) -> Hii! I love your Gray Fullbuster x reader fics. They are so great!! Could I request then something like female reader goes on a mission and comes back being hurt and tries to hide it, but Gray saw through her and he is so worried about her, because they like each other so he corners her and help her. With a fluff, maybe even a kiss? Thank you in advance!! <3 + can you write a childhood bsf to lovers story for gray or sting from fairy tail? Nothing too specific, but also wanted to say I love your stories <3 😖

requested by -> @shogun0wa

pairing: gray fullbuster x f!reader

gray could tell something was wrong, even if you were desperately trying to pretend otherwise.

frankly, he didn't even see why you bothered—stubborness perhaps? he'd known you long enough, since the both of you were children, to see that the smile on your lips was forced and feigned. years spent attached at the hip gave him the insight others wouldn't notice.

so, yeah, he guessed - stubborness it definitely was.

chin resting in the palm of his hand, gray's eyes watch you closely as you talk with erza and lucy. you're less animated than usual, letting the two other girls do most of the talking for you as you simply listen and nod. if either lucy or erza noticed something was wrong, it was easy to tell you'd brushed their concern off with a simple excuse of being tired.

the same excuse you've used with gray since you'd returned from your solo mission and he'd noticed something was off.

anytime he'd confronted you, you'd been skillfully adept at avoiding him. gray would barely get a word out edgewise before you'd slip off from with some excuse or another of mira needing you, or lucy wanting your help with something.

things of the sort.

gray's patience was waring thin and with it, his concern was overwhelming him to the point he could barely function normally. he could see the paleness to your skin, all colour leaving your cheeks and the way your eyes would narrow and your lips would purse when you thought no one was looking.

it was clear you were in pain.

gray couldn't understand why you were trying to convince otherwise.

"i'll talk to you both later, okay?"

pulled from his thoughts, gray straightens when he sees you standing from the table, offering a small wave erza and lucy's way. the smile at you in response, each wishing you goodbye but gray's only zone in on the way your face, for the splittest second, twists in agony before you school your expression.

that was it. gray was going to get to the bottom of this.

standing up himself, gray is careful to be quiet, hanging back a minute after you move towards the guild doors before following you. he exits a moment after you do, you still blissfully unaware, and with an eased movement, gray's hand locks around your wrists and tugs you gently towards the alley beside the guild.

you stumble after him, a whimper leaving your lips — gray does feel guilty for causing you pain, but he figures this'll help prove his point.

"gray! what are you—"

"where?"

he doesn't bother letting you finish your accusation — he was tired of your pointless stubbornness. all he wanted to do was help you.

huffing, you glare up at gray; "where, what?"

"where does it hurt?"

your face falls at that, glare dissipating in seconds as you stare blankly up at gray. you shift against the wall he's cornered you against, gray's body trapping you with no escape as you squirm uncomfortably.

gray's eyes, however, zone in on the way your hand clutches at your side.

"there?" he asks, raising a brow as he reaches for your hand. "that's where it hurts?"

"gray—"

"enough." he cuts in once more, voice sharper. his eyes fall shut in frustration before turning to meet your own, gaze unwavering. gray's patience is gone at this point and perhaps he'll regret being so sharp with you later, but for now it's necessary to get the truth out of you.

like he said, you were too damn stubborn.

"i don't know why you're trying to pretend you're not in pain, but i can tell, okay?" he huffs, exasperated. "i know you."

you blink up at him, face easing.

"i... it's really not that bad."

gray just shakes his head; "let me see."

you warm faintly at that, but knowing gray won't back down, especially not now, you oblidge to his request. slowly, your hands move to the hem of your tank, slowly pulling it upwards until your stomach is bare. you tuck your shirt just under your breasts, feeling vulnerable in an entirely new way as you avoid gray's gaze.

in another light, gray would be just as embarrassed. there's no room for that, however, when he see's the large bruise across your ribs; your skin is discoloured with a terrible yellowish-purple.

honestly, gray's surprised you've been able to walk at all with a injury that size.

"why didn't you get wendy to heal you?" gray hisses, concerned, as he reaches for you. you tense as his cold but familiar touch falls on usually untouched skin, biting your lip as he gently prods to bruise, wincing slightly in pain. "y/n, this is bad."

"it's not that bad," you force out, huffing.

"yes, it is," gray argues, sharp eyes falling back on your own. "it looks like you could even have a broken rib given how bruised it is."

you just frown.

"why?" gray sighs, finally pulling away as you slowly let your shirt fall back down. "why hide it?"

it takes you a moment to reply, looking down at your own feet and desperately avoiding gray's piercing gaze. gray almost thinks you won't speak and goes to ask again, until he hears your soft and mumbled voice. "i didn't want to be a bother."

"...what?"

"i didn't want to be a bother!" you repeat, this time louder; your voice cracks in desperation as you turn to gray with a tear-filled gaze. he stares blankly back at you, stunned. "i'm always getting hurt on missions and everyone is always having to help me... you most of all! so i took this mission by myself to prove i'm strong, only i got hurt like i always do!"

you finish with a gasp, hands pressing against your wound as you twist yourself uncomfortably.

gray doesn't say anything at first. he frowns, shoulders falling and watches as you desperately try to hold back the tears that threaten to slip past your eyes, he thinks about the fact that you think so lowly of yourself.

do you really think that's what the others think? what he thinks?

spurned on by the guilt of ever letting you think that way about yourself and desperate to rectify his own foolish mistake, gray ignores the nerves bundling in his chest and leans forward with a burst of desperate confidence. he grabs your chin, tugging you towards him gently as he lets his eyes flutter shut and presses his lips against your own.

you tense at the action and gray fears the worst, moving to pull away, but then a second later you're easing, hands slowly moving to shift around his own as you lean into the kiss.

he pulls back a second later, blinking down at you.

you stare up at him; "what was that for?"

"to prove to you," he whispers.

"prove to me what?"

"that none of what you said is true," he urges, cupping your cheeks. "your strength is your strength, and you are a vital member to both fairy tail and the team. if anyone says you aren't, i'll personally show them otherwise."

gray watches as your lips part and your eyes soften with something warm.

"gray..."

"it doesn't matter how much you get hurt, i will always be there to help you." he continues, letting the truth pour out of him with vulnerabilty he's unused to. "all that matters to me is that you're okay. i need you, y/n. so please don't ever hide something like this from me again, okay? please?"

slowly, you nod.

"okay," he nods, some of that blind confidence wavering as he feels his cheeks burn with the reality of his confession. "n-now, can we please take you to see wendy?"

you nod once more, but the small smile that curls onto your lips is undeniable. then, you slowly lower his hands from your cheeks, holding tight to his right one as you thread your fingers through it, squeezing.

gray eases at your assurance, a grin curling onto his lips.

he guesses, when he truly thought about it, he was just a stubborn — it's why the two of you got along so well.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Honesty (Daemon Targaryen × Reader)

Summary: In which Prince Daemon seduces his unwilling Lady Wife.

Warnings: Smut. Dub Con/ Non Con. Oral sex (F receiving), P in V sex. Stark reader. Convenience Marriage. No use of Y/N.

A/N: First time writing for Daemon. Reader is the oldest sister of Cregan Stark and acts as his regent. Might write the full story one day. High valyrian from an online translator, not explaining it because I wanted the reader to not know the meaning.

The shift was white, silky, and oh so tiny. You stared at it with contempt. It had cost you a pretty penny, as had the cosmetics Lady Manderly had so eagerly pushed into your hands. Red tint, she had said, to paint your lips and enhance your natural attributes in other areas. The woman had even had the nerve to point at your breasts!

It was ridiculous, this whole thing. Had you been born a man, there would be no need for this nonsense. Had you not been born a Stark, it would still be happening, but perhaps in not such a brutal way. Or had you not been tempered by the cold, made so brazen to insult and oppose Otto Hightower, perhaps your punishment wouldn’t be marital rape.

Still. It was your duty, and you intended to perform it. It was the only way to keep Cregan, Rickon and Sara safe. And you would do it. Prince Daemon, your lord husband, as he insisted you called him, could surely get the deed done faster with the proper incentives.

You took off your gown, having been previously unlaced by your trusty maid. You put on the dreaded, lacy shift. The latest fashion in Dorne, you had been told. For how expensive it was, it certainly was made of little fabric. You glared at your reflection, watching how the long sleeves had a vertical cut that made them useless. Your skin broke out in goosebumps, as you wished you could add more wood to the fire.

Some rustling could be heard outside your room and you panicked. You were running out of time. The tint! Made of some berries, you hoped didn’t poison you. You quickly rubbed it on your lips and cheeks, trying to seem less like the terrified girl you were and more like an appealing sight. You sat down, primly, on the foot of the bed just in time for Daemon to enter the room.

“Wife.” He rumbled, coming to stand in front of you. Daemon had docked his furs and armor, his sword no longer rested at his side, just as your agreement dictated. He had come to you unarmed and barefooted, yet it didn’t make him cut a less intimidating figure in the least. His purple eyes looked at the tint with curiosity, and plucked it from your hands. “Getting ready for me? I’m touched.”

You glared at him, trying to hide how much nerves pooled in your stomach, how you were cold from fear, skin clammy and pale.

“If I must…” You shifted to your hands and knees, and lifted your shift, exposing your naked folds and arse. It was quite the vulnerable position, and heat started to spread almost immediately to your cheeks and neck. You hated the humiliation it brought you.

Daemon’s breath hitched. Clearly affected by the sight of your prone, soft body, on the bed. “What are you doing, zoklītsos?” His hand went to your exposed folds, finding you as dry as the sands of the dornish deserts. You nearly jolted at the touch, and only his hand on your hips kept you in place. It was not a good omen, you had gathered, from nights spent exploring your body before the cold and worries had turned you into the frigid ice queen the lords in the South accused you of being.

“Go ahead. Do it.” You closed your eyes, keeping them tightly shut, and braced yourself for the pain. Daemon tsked, his warm palm caressing your bottom.

“Hells, you have been deprived.” He pulled your shift down, covering you.

“I do not understand.” You frowned, looking at him over your shoulder, still on your hands and knees. “This is right, I know. I have seen animals do it.” Your tone was of absolute confidence, petulant, even. To you, it was one of the facts of life. The sky was blue, the sun rose in the west, and fucking was done on one’s hands and knees, with the man behind you. It cracked Daemon out. He snorted, hands still busy fixing your shift. It soon turned into a full-blown belly laugh, at your icy glare.

“Poor little wife, your previous lovers have done you wrong.” He palmed at your ass. You hated how the warmth of his palms made you shiver. Good gods, how was he so warm, barefoot as he was and in only a linen shirt? You wanted to kick at him, at the offense of your virtue, perhaps make an icy comment, but you were frozen in shame. “Unless…” Daemon’s hands moved to your stomach, urging you to get up on your knees. He pressed a kiss to your exposed nape when you did, as if rewarding you. Stubbornly, you tried to escape his grip, but he only hugged you tighter. “Oh, what a treat you are… The gift that keeps on giving, zoklītsos.”

“Shut up and get it over with.”

“Don’t be like that, little wife.” He kissed your jaw, tenderly, and when you moved your face away from him, Daemon adapted and started kissing a path down your exposed neck. “You wouldn’t like that, sweet innocent virgin you are. I would tear you apart, and that's no fun.”

“Oh, by the…” You muttered, exasperated. You tried telling yourself that the red of your cheeks was out of rage and not embarrassment. Used as you were at being the smartest one in the room, you deeply disliked how out of your depth you were here. It was not your fault, being uneducated on these matters. Orphaned when you were a lady just flowered, there had been no time for anything else but caring for your siblings. “Why must every woman you meet burn for you?”

“Because I am the blood of the dragon. Heat is in my veins.” He mouthed at your shoulder, this time. His kisses felt like a trail of fire down your body. It was… Waking feelings you didn’t wish to have. Nipples pebbling, hairs standing up, pleasant shivers and all. You breathed in and out, trying to control yourself. Daemon pushed the sleeve of your shift down. “My proper little wife. My ice queen. You will melt, in the end.” He kissed back up and towards your ear, whispering, cruelly. “They all do.”

Your breath hitched. A slip. The first of the night. You could feel Daemon’s smirk against your skin.

“Do you really want to find out how the fire in your veins meets the ice in mine?” You remarked, coldly. It was an attempt at projecting a bravery you did not feel. Bravado. Nothing more. And Daemon could tell.

“Fire can melt ice.” He pressed an open-mouthed kiss on your throat. With the way he held you, curling and uncurling around you, Daemon reminded you more of a snake than a dragon. You felt as if you were in the grip of a boa, constricting around you, robbing you from your air, leaving you breathless. It was wrong, being so excited at being the sole focus of such a predator. But heat was pooling between your legs, you were getting embarrassingly slick.

“Ice can put out a fire.” You warned, one of your hands going to his silver locks and tugging. You got exactly the opposite reaction of what you wanted. Daemon’s eyes closed, expression turning into a delightful mix of pleasure and pain.

“Only a fool would meet your ice head on.” He kissed your sternum. You remained as still as a sculpture. He tugged at the sleeves, until they gave. There went the dornish shift, ruined forever. You felt a distant rage at having wasted so much gold on it for him to rip it apart. Daemon drank the sight of your exposed chest eagerly, seemingly entranced. You tried covering yourself, but he grabbed at your wrists.

“I think not, Lady Wife.” Then, very tenderly, he pressed kisses to the top of your breasts. You whined, low in your throat. It felt good, and he had no right, no right at all, to get your body to betray you like this. “You see… A tiny flame, if constant, can begin…” Daemon kissed lower, encircling your areola, purple eyes gleaming with mischief. “To melt your ice.” And with that, he took your nipple into his mouth, making you let out a little scream. You squirmed, feeling more wetness gather between your thighs. If you wanted to keep your dignity, you had to get away from him. But Daemon’s grip wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard you tried.

“No… I… Husband… Please. Please.” You begged, shame so deep you were nearly in tears. How it was that easy for him to take you apart, you didn’t know. Despite your pleas, his tongue circled your nipple, his lips making nearly a vacuum around it. His hand came up to pinch at your other nipple, warning. “I don’t want this, please. Just… Just…” But whatever you were saying got lost into your moans, until you were unable to know if you were asking him to stop the sweet torture or give you more of it.

When your tears started to fall in earnest, Daemon let go of your breast with a nearly obscene slurp.

“What is it, zoklītsos? You don’t want the attention of your Prince?” You nodded, and he gave you a mocking little coo. It almost made you think he would stop. Almost. If not for his hands, bunching up your shift until you were exposed once again. Under the candlelight, your cunt glistened with how much wetness you had produced. You tried to close your legs, but he kneeled, forcefully keeping them apart with his torso.

“No. I doubt that's the problem.” Daemon rubbed a finger against your entrance, not putting it in, but just pressing. “I think my little ice queen is melting. A big puddle, she is turning into.”

“You think…” You got cut off by a moan. Daemon had found your pearl, and it seemed he knew exactly what to do with it. “Yourself so smart. Smug…” He pushed a finger inside you, making you yelp, and effectively unable to finish your sentence.

“If you still have coherent thoughts…” He pulled away from you, taking his shirt off. Your eyes immediately were pulled, as if by magnet, to his chest. He had a warrior’s body, muscles all functional. Deliciously broad shoulders, toned stomach with the slightest hint of definition, yet still slender in the way most Targaryens were. Closer to gods, indeed. He bent down, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach, making you squirm.

“Lord Husband…” You warned, noticing how his kisses started to approach your privates.

“Lady Wife.” Daemon repeated, with a mocking tone. Then, he curiously pressed a finger against your button. This time, your hips bucked, and you were unable to quiet the moan that slipped from your parted lips. “Such a pretty cunt you have.”

“You don’t have to…”

“Oh, but where is the fun in that, zoklītsos?” He spread you apart, as if opening up the petals of a flower, gentle but so casual. “If I wanted a quick fuck, I would have taken one of your servants, or found myself a whore.” Daemon leaned down and licked a strip over your cunt. In your haste to muffle a scream, you brought one of your hands to your mouth and bit down on your palm until you tasted blood. It was the oddest feeling, a line of scorching hot electricity on your exposed sex. “I intend to enjoy you. As often as I can. That’s why I accepted marrying you.”

“I don’t… I….” You muttered, but you weren’t really opposing him anymore. It was impossible to think about anything apart from what he was doing, of how his heat and wanton ways were starting to warm your blood too. Daemon kept licking at you, making your hips twitch. He was entirely ignoring your pleas, apparently finding great pleasure in the way he took you apart.

You felt like you were burning up, as if something that had been long asleep in you had started to be awakened. Long hidden and forgotten desires that were making themselves known. You found yourself looking down, mesmerized by the sight of the blond shock of hair between your parted thighs and how it bobbed up and down with each eager lick he took. Your hand reached down, tangling in Daemon’s hair, and it was then, you got pulled over the edge.

Daemon would later say it had been the way he had groaned against your pearl, what had made your thighs quiver and tummy tense, an impossible amount of wetness dripping down your thighs. You would say, if asked, it had been the way his purple eyes met yours, mouth still busy at devouring your cunt and face twisted into the most smug and deviant expression you had ever seen. Whatever it was, it pleased him greatly.

“I knew you had it in you. You weren’t cold.” Daemon whispered against your skin, kissing a path towards your mouth. He was unhurried, dedicating lavish kisses to your hipbone, moving to mouth along your belly button, gnawing hungrily at your ribs. Under him, your body went lax and pliant, spent with the first climax you had experienced under his careful touches. “You just needed a dragon to warm you up.” He licked at the sweat collecting in the hollow of your throat, before finally pressing a kiss to your lips.

This time, you answered. You took his lower lip between yours, playfully. You could taste and smell yourself on him, and it was more alluring than what you had ever thought.

“Good.” He said, pulling back. He started to undo his breeches, and you felt panic grip at you some more. This was it. You had to fulfill your end of the deal with him, let him take you. As if he could feel your nerves, Daemon rubbed your thigh, affectionate. “Do not fret, zoklītsos. You will enjoy this, too.”

“It is meant to hurt.” You answered him, pouting. He tapped at your lower lip, gently.

“Put that away, before I have to bite it.” Daemon took out his cock and rubbed it up and down your folds, gathering the wetness. Despite your fears, a wave of desire overtook you. His fingers had felt good, so had his tongue. You wondered if this, too, could be pleasurable. Otherwise, there wouldn't be so many bastards being born in Westeros, right? But you were supposed to bleed. Bleeding was not pleasant, ever.

“I…” You grabbed at one of his hands, holding on for dear life. He may not have been your choice of husband, but he had vowed to protect you under his gods, standing in the sand and mixing your blood with him. Daemon took his valyrian vows seriously. You were desperate for any scraps of reassurance he was willing to give, even if in normal circumstances you would have rather died than be helped by him.

“It won’t hurt.” Daemon said, kissing your forehead. You looked up at him, eyes wide in fear. He squeezed your hand and lined himself up. You felt the tip of his cock nudge at your entrance, and wondered what it looked like. It felt blunt, and it was very warm. “I will do it on one thrust, like ripping a bandage off. You probably don’t have your maidenhead, with how fond you are of riding. And if you do, you are more than wet enough.”

“Lady Manderly said it hurt her, the first time.” You pouted again, and this time, he did good on his promise. He leaned down and kissed you, biting at your lower lip playfully.

“She has a fool for a husband.” Daemon muttered, kissing your ear. You shivered, nearly mewling. You weren’t aware of how sensitive you were there. “Trust me on this. I know more about it.”

“Taken many maidenheads?” You remarked, with a hint of a teasing smile on your lips.

“Jealous, ice queen?” Daemon licked a strip down the base of your neck towards your jaw. “You will have to admit you know little of the topic.”

“I would say I know plenty.” You answered, glowering, just as he thrust inside of you, seemingly tired of the conversation. At the sudden feeling of fullness, you yelped. But there was no pain, as he had promised. Only an odd feeling of being stretched and filled to the brim, and a slight discomfort. “Rude.”

Daemon smirked. He stayed still, letting you time to adjust. You took a deep breath, and shifted to rest your weight on your elbows, to take a curious look at where you were joined. To your disappointment, you could only see a cloud of light hair, mixing with yours, hips impossibly close.

“Did it hurt?” Daemon flicked at your pearl, absent-mindedly. He groaned when that made your walls tighten around him.

You glared.

“No.”

“You silly girl.” He laughed, starting to thrust. The friction felt good immediately, and you moaned, grabbing at his shoulders. “And you thought fucking could only be done on your hands and knees.”

You didn’t answer, choosing instead to cling to him, mouth falling open in moans you were unable to keep quiet anymore.

“Fucking is a pleasure.” Daemon insisted, pinching at one of your nipples, You whined. He could be telling you the secrets of the realm, and you wouldn’t care. “And I will teach you all about it.” He grunted in your ear.

You were too gone to care about his smugness. Your heels dug into his back, pulling him closer and closer. You met him thrust by thrust, scratching at his back until your nails were bloody. Daemon kissed you and tugged at your hair, desperate to claim you. You could hear his silent laughter, feel his mocking smile against your skin. He had finally gotten what he wanted, a reaction out of you. It could not be faked, this pure, raw emotion. Soon, his fingers found their way to your button, making you whine and squirm. It was too much for your poor, abused body. You screamed his name as you reached your second peak of the night.

Daemon thrust several more times, practically vibrating with smugness. He grabbed at your body, fingers digging in the flesh, surely bruising your hips. His mouth was slightly parted, and something stirred in you at seeing him so raw. Daemon had been right, you realized. Many moons before, he had said bodies spoke and were honest in ways their owners were not. And so, you let yours speak, tugging at his hair, sucking bruises in his pale neck. Perhaps there was something there, in the way he held you closer, shuddering and spilling himself with a muffled cry. Something that mere lust couldn't explain.

You both laid there, panting. Daemon looked down at you, and brushed your sweaty hair out of your face.

“I think, Lady Wife, that the coldness of the North might just be bearable.”

[superblysubpar]

eddie munson x you

921 words

warnings: minor pain medication, blood and injury descriptions | this is a part of a larger story that hasn't been released yet, so you might not get a lot that's going on, Eddie calls you Lucky because of Lucky Strike cigarettes | a little angst, okay a lot. We're a big asshole to Eddie in this - I told you freak wasn't always gonna be slutty, guys (don't hate me)

a blurb for the "Trick or Treat, Freak?" event - don't forget to vote for tomorrow's fic at the bottom of this blurb

Your hand shakes as you lift it to his eye, warm cloth stained with stark red and rust from earlier, the bleeding still hasn’t stopped.

His fingers circle your wrist, a thumb swipes over your racing pulse as he stops you from touching his skin with the rag again.

“Wanna tell me what the fuck happened back there?”

Eddie’s question isn’t asked cruelly, his tone isn’t hard or angry and god you wish it were. You wish it was jagged and sharp and could cut you like you know you deserve.

Instead, it’s a little broken, a little soft, like he already knows the answer, he just wants to hear you say it out loud.

Your shoulders lift up, bare, aside from the flimsy straps of your silk camisole, all that you had underneath the pink sweater that was now cushioning your knees and ruined, covered in sticky coca-cola and your best friend’s blood. It was the only thing you could think to do, to stop the bleeding from his swollen nose as you drove his van back to his trailer. Your hands gripped his steering wheel as Eddie blinked rapidly, and your voice strained to sound normal, to keep him talking, so he’d stay awake.

Maybe it would have been better if he’d have passed out.

Fingers catch under your jaw, blues and purples blunt and calling your attention against his pale fingers as they tilt your chin, so you have to look at him.

Look at the big, brown, blinking eyes that shine with something you tell yourself aren’t tears.

“Lucky,” Eddie’s voice cracks, “Tell me you’re not dating that fucking guy. Tell me.”

You don’t have to tell him, because you know he knows. Knows from the way your nose scrunches to fight off tears and your chin wobbles beneath his thumb and your hands reach for his jaw and he fucking knows, because it’s Eddie and he knows you.

His face pales, somehow, even more white, the fresh and drying blood surrounding his eye, his nose, his lip stark against the skin that looks like he’s just seen a ghost. It’s like all the color except the injuries that are your fault drains from his eyes and face, so you have no choice but to acknowledge the direct result of your actions.

“I-I told you I wanted to have the movie night here, Eddie,” you try to argue, to make it so it’s not your fault, but your voice shakes and it comes out a little angry.

Eddie recoils at your excuse, almost falling into the green tub behind him, resting on the lip of it as you knelt in between his knees. He shakes his head and presses his palms to his eyes, wincing at the pain of his wounds, but not caring it seems, since he leaves them there while he talks.

“God,” he laughs, bitterly, biting words you’d just wished for slapping across your skin, “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

His hands drop, and his eyes aren’t glass anymore, they’re hard, sharp.

Cold.

“What’s your cover, huh? Tutoring me? The freak is so dumb, and he gives you free weed for helping him pass trig?”

He waits for you to argue with it, to correct him, to apologize, all of which you want to do, but instead you get just as angry. Your hands shove at his knees as you stand and you start slamming first aid kit supplies back into the case with shaking hands and a rising volume.

Your head moves back and forth, a sharp and universal ‘no’, avoiding his gaze, “Not all of us can take the road less traveled and deal with the doubt and assumptions and cruelty with raised heads and fake shields or whatever bullshit you wanna try and spew at those, let’s face it, losers, who follow you around, okay? Some of us have to keep up appearances, and we’re just trying to get out of high school with a good reputation so we can get out-“

“Losers?!” Eddie’s standing now, his volume covering up yours as the room gets smaller, his broad shoulders taking up the narrow space. He throws his hands out at you and then to the dingy mirror, the bottle of aspirin you’d opened for him falls to the ground, pills scattered across the tile as he shouts, “Sweetheart, you’re not just keeping up appearances, fuck, you’re in it and you have no desire to get out. You can lie to yourself but you can’t lie to me!”

“Shut up!” The yell is pathetic, it’s not even a yell, it’s this sob, this beg for him to leave it be. A plea to go back in time before you left his trailer and begged him not to go to The Hawk, to turn around and just watch VHS tapes all night with you at home. Your whole body is practically vibrating now, angry, scared.

Eddie’s shoulders fall as he watches you look anywhere but him, watches your face scrunch in pain so you don’t cry in front of him. His voice lowers, defeated, sad that he’s not shocked when he doesn’t ask, but says, “You’re not gonna even break up with him, are you.”

Your body flinches as a sob breaks free from your chest and your hand covers your mouth, eyes filling with tears and spilling down your cheeks as you run out of his bathroom.

For the first time, but not the last, Eddie Munson doesn’t follow you.

depending on which one wins, it'll be more dad/husband steve or dad/husband eddie focused, but their AU's run together/both will be mentioned 🥰

*voting will close at 10am CST tomorrow, 10/5

[shieldofiron]

Vibe Check

Part 13: No Sleep Til Hawkins

Part 13, Also on Ao3 here and tumblr here

Billy gives up on sleep around 3 am. He’s pretty sure his will to pretend he’s asleep tires out just about the same time as Munson’s girlfriend because it’s silent for once.

He rolls on his side, watching Steve sleep. Steve had babbled nervously right up to the point of sleep and past it, his nonsense mumbles finally petering out.

He knows Steve is nervous, but for fuck’s sake, so is he. At least Steve isn’t dealing with heartbreak on top of that.

Billy sits up and rubs his eyes, conceding defeat. There’s no way he’s going to get any sleep, so he might as well be productive.

He slides out of bed and grabs his backpack before quietly slipping out. It’s not really due for a few days but he has an American Lit paper and it beats lying there in the dark ignoring screams and counting all the tiny fractures in his heart.

The house is quiet. Some of the brothers haven’t even come home from the parties. Billy is hoping when they do they’ll all head up to bed and ignore him in the lounge.

He doesn’t want to see anybody when it feels like he’s lived several lives since this morning. At this point he’s just feral, hardly human. It hurts, the ache in his chest. At the same time though, there’s such a bittersweet relief. Steve knows, and what’s more, Billy wasn’t crazy. They do have chemistry, even if Steve can’t see it.

But he can’t keep turning it around in his head, especially while he’s still tipsy. He has to get out of this headspace.

On the way to the lounge he decides to swing by the kitchens for a snack and maybe a gatorade. The cooks are seasoned frat professionals and they tend to have at least a few things prepared Saturday night in advance. Sometimes it’s overly healthy, but that works for him.

Billy flips on the light and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees what looks like a black cloaked figure. Christ, maybe he’s dreaming.

The figure turns from where it’s hunched over a bowl of bananas, mouth full.

“Christ, Munson,” Billy drops his backpack and covers his face with his hands. “I thought you were the fuckin’ hat man.”

Munson smiles around his banana, “So’ry.”

Billy lets his shoulders fall, “No worries. Though I wish you would actually lay off the potassium. Christ, my ears would thank you for a cramp some nights.”

“Why?”

“Because, man… we gotta sleep sometimes,” Billy rolls his eyes and flops down in the seat next to Munson’s.

Eddie turns beet red. “You… can hear us?”

Billy remembers too late that he and Steve had more or less agreed to not talk about Munson’s girlfriend. Argyle had been weirdly adamant about leaving him be. ‘Don’t rush the dude, that’s just not your business,’ were Argyle’s exact words.

“Whoops,” Billy cringes a bit. “But… I mean come on, man. Your girlfriend screams like she’s getting murdered. And it’s almost every night. Of course we noticed.”

Munson lets out a noise like a rat caught in a trap and hunches into the collar of his fluffy black robe. He looks chalky pale, like he got caught by a cop.

“And I mean, hey, good on you, dude. Like I’m pretty sure you’re having the kind of sex only lesbians have.” Then Billy remembers Carver and nervousness creeps in. “Not that… jeez, not in like a gross homophobic way.”

“Lesbians?” Munsons squeezes the remaining banana in his hands into a pulp.

“Christ.” Billy gives up and sags against the counter. “It’s been a really weird night, man. I just… I was just trying to make a joke about your girlfriend. Nothing weird.”

Munson blinks with those big brown doe eyes. “My girlfriend?”

“Yeah, but I really meant no offense by it, I swear.” Billy held up his hands.

Munson stares at him a beat, and then he lets out the tiniest nervous giggle. “Girlfriend.”

Then he full on laughs, throwing his head back.

“Oh, or… not girlfriend?” Billy frowns. “I guess.”

Munson still laughs, harder and more full bodied.

“Well now this is just mean, Munson. If this is how you treat a lady, I’ll go up there and steal her for myself.” Billy licks his lower lip.

Munson’s hand shoots out and he grabs Billy, smearing bananas all over Billy’s arm. “Do. Not.”

Billy winces, yanking his arm away, and reaches for a paper towel to wipe his hand off.

“She’s like… really classy.” Munson says sheepishly. “She’d be mortified you heard her in my room. Please don’t.”

“I wasn’t really gonna wake a chick up who you left in bed.” Billy rolls his eyes. “What kind of guy do you take me for?”

Munson shrugs. “Same kind as me, that’s why I don’t want you to piss her off. I’m serious.”

Billy tosses the slimy paper towel on the counter and crosses his arms. “So she’s classy. What is she? Tri Delt?”

Munson sighs. “No.”

“Zeta?”

“No!”

“Don’t tell me she’s one of your theater friends?” Billy frowns.

“Hargrove, stop.”

“Does Eden know her? I bet she-”

Munson grabs at him again, looking wild. “Hargrove, listen. Don’t talk to anyone about this, ok?” She’s like… not that kind of girl. She’s classy, ok? Rich and like… going places. She doesn’t want this. You haven’t told anyone already, have you?”

“No. I mean, Steve knows, obviously. And honestly I would ask Patrick and Matt across the hall. I assume Carver.” Billy shrugs with one shoulder. “Argyle told us to, like, protect your privacy or whatever?”

Eddie just nodded vaguely, looking only marginally less unhinged. His hair was mussed, and there was a rapidly developing hickey high on his chest.

“What’s with all the secrecy, anyway?” Billy gasped, and then grinned, “Is she a professor?”

“No, Jesus. She’s just… way the fuck out of my league. Like stratospherically out of my league.” Munson shakes his head and lets go of Billy’s shoulder.

“How stratospheric?”

“Super stratospheric. Like… Buzz Aldrin couldn’t land her.”

Billy whistled. “I have to know.”

Munson sighs. “Look, I’m eating bananas at 3 am. I’m a fucking loser. She’s sleeping to get to her 8 am and she has like a 4.5 GPA and her parents paid for a room in the library or something like that. I can’t talk about it because I’m just… a pressure reliever.”

Billy raises his brows.

Munson doesn’t miss the implication. “Yeah pretty much. I guess I just have slightly more functions than a vibrator.”

Billy grabs a banana for himself, because all the banana talk was making him hungry. “But you’ve been going on like a year now.”

“Ten months, two and a half weeks, three days and well… three hours.”

Billy tries to raise his brows even more but he doesn’t have any room.

Munson leans against the counter and rubs the back of his neck. “Being in l-love with her is one of my many functions.”

Billy almost feels like he could cry. Which is stupid. It’s silly. “That’s sad as fuck, dude.”

Munson sighs, slumping a little more. “Yeah, but what are you gonna do?”

“I dunno what you’re gonna do. I’m gonna sympathize.” Billy says.

“You too?”

“Yeah. At least you’re actually fucking your girl.” Billy mutters.

Eddie shakes his head, hair flopping. “Yeah. Been there too, big time.”

Billy peels his banana, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Same girl, too,” Munson says with a sad little flop of his bangs. “Got me wrapped around my finger since… God. Forever.”

Billy shook his head. “Damn. You, me, and Carver gotta go out sometime.”

“C-Carver?”

Billy nods. “Yeah. He was just telling me about his dating troubles. I’m sure you’ve heard at least some of it.”

“Oh. Right.” Munson nods back almost absently, looking kind of pale again.

“But, hey. You’re fucking your dream girl!” Billy pats Munson’s shoulder uncertainly. “Bring her a banana! Woo her ass, I dunno. She’s gotta be into you at least a little.”

“You think?” Munson looks so innocent like Billy hasn’t heard him do the least classy things ever to his classy girl.

“Your one year anniversary is coming up? I dunno. Don’t take advice from me, I don’t notice anything, apparently.” Billy sighs, leaning forward on his elbows and taking a bite. “It’s been a really weird fuckin’ night, so seriously don’t take my advice.”

Eddie nods slightly, frowning in confusion.

Billy wants to burst into tears or something like that. He thought telling Steve would just end the world, and now the world is apparently still spinning. Munson’s in tragic love too.

Coming out once doesn’t make coming out again any easier. So he resists the impulse to dump the whole sordid tale on Munson, even if he kind of wants to. Because Steve just came out. Billy can’t ruin this time with his own stupid hopeless feelings.

So instead he takes another bite and gets up to grab a gatorade from the fridge, shoving it into the pocket of his sweat shorts.

“Sorry, man, I’m tired. Just rambling. If you ever want to talk about your girl, I’m here for ya, ok?” Billy says.

“Thanks. Uh… you too. You know, if you ever…” Munson peters out, gesturing weakly.

Billy cackles and it comes out way too forced, but he commits to it anyway. “Well, you know me. I have 99 bitches but not one’s a problem.”

Eddie laughs a little, toying with the messy banana peel nervously.

Billy pats Munson on the shoulder and walks back to his room without a second thought, fully leaving his backpack behind. He was supposed to go downstairs.

But Steve is asleep so peacefully. Billy stands at the door and just stares. Steve always sleeps splayed out like a starfish, one of his feet dangling over the side of the bed. Tonight he has his mouth open, drooling slightly.

Billy has kissed that mouth. He wishes he could go back in time and slow that moment down forever.

Steve was still the worst person to fall in love with, the most unforgivable. And now it would be even harder because Steve had said it so strongly tonight. They would only ever be friends.

Billy wants so badly for anything to be different. He wishes suddenly he’d gone to any other school, anywhere else on earth. He wants to be in Eddie’s place because surely it would be better to be something than nothing at all.

Or is this better. Maybe now he can finally accept-

“B’lly?” Steve still has his eyes closed. “Close th’ door.”

Billy freezes for a moment, before shutting the door gently, plunging the room back into semi-darkness.

By the light of the streetlamp outside and the Frat’s shitty old alarm clock, he can just make out Steve scooting over and raising the blankets on his bed.

“C’mon,” He says.

Billy thinks of what Munson said as he crawls in next to Steve. He tosses the gatorade across the room and settles next to that warm body he knows all too well. Steve pulls up the fuzzy blanket that his mom bought him for Hanukkah last year, the one that smells like weed and Steve. The bed feels scorching hot, and Steve’s long limbs immediately lash around Billy, holding him with the perfect tightness. Steve presses his chest to Billy’s back and sighs, his minty-beer breath brushing the back of Billy’s neck. Billy’s skin prickles everywhere they touch, with almost the same sting as embarrassment.

That this is just one of his many functions. That in some ways he should let go, but he was meant to love Steve like this. Maybe he couldn’t have helped it.

Steve hums. “Promise. N’thing will change, right? We won’t be weird?”

Billy feels like he’s shattered, held together by Steve’s limbs, squeezing tight.

“Yeah,” He says, ignoring the tears that get squeezed free.

[clockwayswrites]

Danny/Jason, Violet, Forget-me-nots

@apointlessbox This ties into another one of these. If you want the most hurt, read that one first then this. If you want less hurt, do it the other way.

Danny turned the apricot over in his hands.

He loved the feel of them. The velvet soft texture was gentle on his fingers, even as scarred and calloused as they were from lab work and vigilante business.

He loved the smell of them. They smelled like summer with fall just on the horizon. They smelled like laughter and play and fun.

He loved the taste of them. They tasted like sunlight. They tasted…

They didn’t taste so amazing, anymore. He tried one, sitting in the tree by himself, before he came here. It was a pale comparison of what it used to be. Danny laughed.

It sounded more like a sob.

“You know, there were… there were a few times when I thought about what kissing you would be like. When I imagined it, you always tasted of apricots. I wish I had taken the chance when I had it. I wish… I wish I had told you so many things, Jason, while I still could have.

“I looked for you in the Realms. I’m not,” Danny had to stop to push tears away with the heel of his hand. “I’m not giving up on you. I’ll keep looking. I… this is selfish, but I need you to be there, Jason. I can’t… I can’t loose you twice. You better have become a ghost, you’re too stubborn not to.”

Danny set the perfectly bright, bright orange apricot at the base of the grave stone.

“So stop playing hide and seek and come find me, okay?”

Did some prompts, here is the masterpost. And this is the last of them.

[damallarky]

Truce

There was an influx of Papae!Solas content and I wanted to share a WIP I was working on that I'm not sure what I'm going to do with or where it's going to go in the grand scheme of my Inquisitor and Rook's story.

For context:

Neria is my Lavellan and Solas's twelve-year-old daughter. She is at the Lighthouse because of reasons.

Ren is my Rook. He is my Lavellan's oldest brother.

Solas is busted from the Fade by Rook and Co. Because that is going to happen Bioware.

Neria does not appreciate the strange man who is suddenly in her and her mother's lives.

To Neria, he is the Interloper and must be Stopped.

Stuff happens, and Neria has a change of heart and is willing to give the guy a chance.

However, first, she needs to set some ground rules.

Enasali (who is briefly mentioned) is the Ill-Advised Pre-Veilguard Solavellan Hookup Baby

AKA why it was Varric trying to talk Solas down and not Lavellan.

AKA why Varric has gray hair. Sorry dude.

Neria is too much like her father. I love her.

Neria found him in the library, speaking in low tones to Emmerich and Uncle Ren as they poured over some massive tome. Unnoticed by the three men, Neria used the opportunity to study the bald elf, whom Mamae claimed to be her father. 

He had quite a bit more color since her uncle pulled him out of the Fade. He no longer looked so pale and sickly, and the dark circles under his eyes had started to fade. He still looked tired, to be sure, but it was less somehow. He also stood straighter, taller, as if he had been carrying something heavy on his back and was finally able to relieve his burden. 

There were other things Neria noticed about him as well. Features that were familiar to her. Features that she knew didn’t come from her mother but never truly seemed to realize that they came from someone else. Like how his ears were shaped similarly to her own or how they both had a cleft chin, though hers was noticeably less prominent. 

And then there were the eyes. 

Neria knew that she had her father’s eyes; her mother had told her as much growing up. But it never truly registered with her, until she met the man they called Solas and saw her own grayish purple eyes stare down at her. 

The same grayish purple eyes that were currently watching her intently. 

Apparently, she had been noticed. Great.

“Neria, did you need something? Is everything alright?”, her uncle asked. 

Neria fought the growing urge to run away, and instead crossed her arms and tried to give her best “serious” face, like her Aunt Cassandra wore when she meant business. 

Neria wanted to show that she meant business, too. 

“I wish to speak with Solas,” she said, in her best Aunt-Cassandra-Serious-Business-Voice. Figuring that might have been a little too demanding, she added, “When he has a minute to talk. If that’s ok?”

“Of course,” Solas said, perhaps a little too quickly. Emmerich and Uncle Ren shared a look. Emmerich shrugged.

“Yeah, sure, we could use a bit of a break,” her uncle agreed. He and Emmerich grabbed the book and left the library, her uncle giving her shoulder a small squeeze as he walked by. 

And just like that, Neria found herself alone with her father for the first time in her life.

“You wished to speak with me, Neria?” He asked, gently.

Neria cleared her throat.

“Yes. I wish to parley,” she declared. 

She wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting Solas’s reaction to be. She had figured he would laugh at her and tell her to stop being childish. Or maybe even get angry at her for being so demanding of an adult. What she wasn’t expecting, was for Solas to nod with actual, genuine seriousness. He clasped his hands behind his back, like one of those statues in Orlais of human generals.

“Very well,” he said, before gesturing to one of the many plush chairs seated around the table in the center of the library. “Please, take a seat.”

“Solas, it has come to my attention that I might have been a little bit mean to you.” Then, because she didn’t want to him to think she was going soft, she added, “Just a little bit, though!” 

Solas nodded, solemnly, his face carefully neutral. Neria continued.

“As such,” she said, “I wish to declare a truce.”

Solas’s neutral mask slipped, and Neria noticed the corners of the man’s mouth tick upwards ever so slightly. With his hands folded on the table, he leaned forward so that he was eye level with Neria.

“Ma nuvenin. What are the terms of this potential truce?”

“First; I will not call you ‘Papae’ or ‘Father’.”

“Of course,” Solas agreed, “I would not ask that of you if it made you uncomfortable.”

Neria blinked. This was easier than she thought!

“Um, ok. Good,” she said. “Second term; you will call me Neria and only Neria. No stupid nicknames, like da’vhenan. Ok?”

For a fraction of a second, something flashed in Solas’s eyes. Something that looked a bit like hurt. Or maybe regret? However, it came and went so quickly that Neria wasn’t sure if she actually saw it at all.

He nodded.

“Third; if I want to be left alone, I want you to leave me alone. Ok?”

Once again, Solas nodded. 

“I would not wish to encroach upon your space.”

Neria mirrored her father’s pose, clasping her hands together and laying them on the table in front of her. She didn’t quite strike the same imposing figure as Solas, but, for being twelve, she thought it was close enough. 

“Good,” she declared. “Now, in return, I will permit you to continue to court my Mamae and help her take care of Enasali. But if, and only if, you continue to make Mamae happy.”

Solas’s neutral mask slipped once more and it was obvious he was actively trying not to grin. Neria narrowed her eyes at him, not appreciating the lack of seriousness on his part. Solas coughed and his face went carefully blank once more. 

“Ir abelas,” he said, his voice serious despite the twinkle still in his eyes. “Neria, I promise that I will do everything in my power to make your mother as happy as I possibly can for as long as she will allow me to do so.” 

Now was the part that she didn’t necessarily want to agree on, but she knew it was only fair. It was the whole reason why she was speaking to her father in the first place.

“And finally,” she said, reluctance clear in her voice, “I will do my best to… to give you a chance.”

[king-crawler]

Haunted Dreams

AKA. a very short & spooky Wreck-It Ralph oneshot i wrote in 1 day 870 words -- [Ao3 Link]

Game Central Station isn’t a scary place during the day. 

The hub is always bustling with characters, people from all sorts of games, all kinds of different eras. A place for everyone to congregate and travel. Pretty noisy too, always filled with 8-bit chatter. Can’t forget the Sonic PSA that’s on loop for hours and hours… That thing is practically ingrained into everyone’s heads by this point. But Game Central Station gets dark at night- dark… and unusually quiet. The power strip lays behind the shadows of cabinets after the sun goes down, casting it in darkness. By this time, everyone is usually settled back at their own games, at least those who decide to sleep. Not Clyde though, as ghosts don’t tend to sleep.

It was a late night at Tappers. He went less so for the drinks because of non-corporeality and such, more so for the company. He makes his way back to Pac-Man, floating past the empty outlet, which unfortunately always has to be passed by on the way back. Unlike the other terminals, this one lacks any of the usual scrolling LEDs overhead… no game. An abandoned venue… During quarter hours the empty socket is actually quite a beautiful sight, albeit bittersweet. Broad rays of sunlight would shine down through the slits- ‘God rays’ as some call them, something treated with reverence by everyone. But almost as if to balance it out, after sunset it becomes an abyss. No… It’s darker.

Not just in terms of absent lighting, but… it feels threatening somehow. Not even the ambient orange glow of Clyde’s spectral form could provide any comfort near that looming archway. Not after what had happened there… After all, it had only been a year since the incident. 

Like echoes in his mind, he remembered the vases of flowers around the entryway in memoriam as people grieved. Many people actually had a chance to talk to the racers of RoadBlasters, congratulating them, welcoming them to the arcade. It was common courtesy to do so whenever somebody new got plugged in, but this instance was only for one night. The residents of Pac-Man were especially on edge after it happened. Their game was briefly unplugged and replugged the same day so it could be moved next to Fix-it Felix Jr; to fill that new empty space. It was an extra scare for sure, thankfully nobody was inside. But now, they live their day-to-day lives knowing they share a plug with what used to be…

Clyde regretfully glanced at the skidmarks on the tiled floor. The others made a solid effort to scrub it away, but you could still make them out if you knew where to look. He didn’t like thinking about it, he frequently hovered past and shoved those thoughts to the back of his mind. But this time it felt… different. Like tonight the void was beckoning him. Suddenly, he heard… something. A sound that was strange and faint at first… the rhythm of rickety creaking and whining. Is it getting louder..? 

…

In an instant, his semiphysical form was instilled with paralyzing dread. That’s impossible. 

An unplugged outlet can’t have a train car. It’s by design, it’s supposed to travel through the cord. And yet… there it was, idly rattling down the track. Terribly rusted and scratched up, appearing to be mere moments from falling apart. And there, on the far end of the train car, was a pale figure enshrouded in darkness. It sat hunched over, its face turned away.

A chilling, staticy feeling filled the dead air between them, or maybe that was just Clyde getting lightheaded. Everything about this felt terribly wrong, like he’d seen something he wasn’t supposed to. Like if he someday remembered this, something bad would happen. As much as he wished he could, he simply couldn't pull himself to look away, or even blink- not on the offchance that whatever was inexplicably happening might cease to exist on second glance. 

The train whined as it docked at the station. After a moment of silence that felt like hours, the figure’s head began to slowly turn, its face overshadowed in pitch darkness by the rim of its helmet. That damn helmet. Even if it was only his name being circulated, nobody could forget what he looked like, even if they wanted to, thanks to the recurring nightmares. The awful, unforgettable sound of his voice being butchered and bitcrushed, cars being torn apart into an unrecognizable jumble of code and colors… They could only watch.

It was only now that Clyde realized everyone deemed Turbo to be dead for their own sakes. They couldn't bring themselves to imagine what might have happened to him otherwise. It was too much. The thought he could’ve turned into something else. 

In a daze, Clyde arrived back in the ghost pen, the other ghosts off somewhere else in the Pac-maze. Suited him- they always acted like he was the underling anyways. He took the isolation as an opportunity to do something he hadn’t done in a long time. Sleep. If he did, maybe he could convince himself that what he saw tonight was nothing but a bad dream. 

Just as everyone else had.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Fool's Errand Pt 2

Part (2) of Fool's Errand, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

Y'all it has been an interesting couples weeks! To summarize, we've decided to upgrade, so are scrambling to get our house ready to sell while caring for a 5 month old and drooling over possible new places to buy! Super fun, super chaotic, and super stressful - wish us luck! (and if any of you are diy specialists in WA, hit me up 😆)

Warnings: Medical procedures, broken nose, blood, needles, profanity

WC: 3,095

“I c’n fight! G’me a kr’ffin’ gun!”

“You can’t even stand! Stay down or, by the Force, Hunter, I will sedate you!” I didn’t try to hide the impatience sewn through the shouted threat.

“I c’n st’ll shoot!” He tried to yell, but the words tangled around his stiff jaw, the muscles locked taut, though whether from pain or injury I couldn’t tell. Our exit had been blocked, the hall too full of droids to even see the far side. We’d had to run. I didn’t know how Echo managed to keep track of our location - if he’d managed to keep track of our location…

The room we’d ducked into was oppressively hot. It radiated from stacks of servers stretching floor to ceiling around us and sent sweat soaking into my blacks in just those few minutes we’d hidden within. Hunter sat against one of the towering jumbles of wires and electronics, one arm wrapped tightly around his chest while the other reached toward me, open hand trembling too violently for anyone to feign ignorance to. I stood beside him leaning around the server just enough to watch the door, pistol trained before me in anticipation of the coming horde while Echo tried to override the droids’ programing at least long enough to grant us an escape, scomp plugged into a massive terminal in the center of the room.

“If you’re so eager to do something, try to get your armor back on before we have to move again.” I ordered, snatching the sack at Echo’s feet to toss toward the seething man. The painkiller was fading, but it was still strong enough to take the edge off, and the denial it granted him, the ill-fated belief that his wounds weren’t as bad as they seemed, was a danger in itself. His lips pulled into a snarl, retort crawling up his throat, but the lungful of air he drew in to voice it left his entire body seizing against a sudden surge of pain.

His gaze fell quickly away from me, unable to hide the way his too-shallow breaths shook even as he fought for some means to continue arguing, and my heart ached at the sight. Blood still trickled from his nose, coating his lips and chin, and staining the dark fabric of his shirt. He had to strain to open his eyes enough to see me, but the way they wavered left me doubting whether or not he could really make out more than some blurred outline before him.

“Here.” I whispered, kneeling beside him and reaching into the bag. “The last thing you need right now is to get shot without any kind of protection.” He didn’t look at me, mouth just twitching into a scowl before his shoulders sank in resignation. Gaze constantly shifting back toward the door, I carefully helped him slide into his cuirass, wincing at his every hitched movement, but there was no avoiding it. He couldn’t get back into the precious gear without contorting his arms. The pull that movement caused against his ribs couldn’t be anything less than agonizing.

“Almost there.” The murmur escaped me without thought toward how it would be received, if he would balk at the soft encouragement or fight to make some retort. I only cared that he was in pain, and all I could offer in that moment was gentle words and some menial bit of assistance in maneuvering into the unyielding durasteel shell. His chest bucked around choppy gasps by the time the armor finally settled into place, skin frightfully pale and covered in a sweat that had nothing to do with the heat.

“Hard part’s done.” He nearly offered some response but let the words fall away with a strained exhale.

“No luck.” Voice heavy with disappointment, Echo abandoned the terminal to walk back toward us, readily joining me help his brother into his gear, “but we’re not far from another hatch.” None of us spoke toward the impossible task of getting Hunter up the vertical stairs, the difficulty in just getting back to his feet at all when every second seemed like the very act of drawing breath was growing more difficult, but that was a problem we’d have to deal with if we managed to actually reach an exit.

“Crosshair’s been trying to draw them to the surface, but they’re not taking the bait.” My lips twisted into a scowl at the very thought of Crosshair acting as bait, but quickly forced the image aside.

“Tech, Wrecker; you guys make it out, yet?” I called over our coms as Hunter finished pulling his last glove on.

“N… nearly there.” Tech’s response was interrupted with a small grunt, blasterfire screaming loudly in the background. “We’ve come upon some – Wrecker, n-!” The compound shook hard enough to nearly throw me to the ground despite how quickly Echo’s hand locked around my arm to steady me.

“Tech?!” I shouted nervously, noting how Hunter’s arm tightened around his chest, fingers strained in a clenched fist.

“I told ‘im the roof would hold!” Wrecker boasted loudly. In nearly the same breath, however, the alarm stopped. The silence that followed was deafening. Despite the hint of relief Hunter couldn’t quite hide from finally being free of the surely agonizing screeching, none of us could ignore the impending threat looming in that quiet.

“That wasn’t why I advised against it.” Tech stated, tone just shy of frustration. “I believe the site has now fully locked down, meaning we’ll be unable to leave in the same manner we got in.” He paused a moment. “Crosshair, do you read me?” Another pause. “Crosshair?” My heart sank, a chill flooding my chest with an entirely new dread. “Additionally, I believe all coms are being blocked as well…” He added in a grumble.

“Well, how was I supposed to know it’d do that?” Wrecker’s retort failed to hide the edge of guilt gnawing beneath his annoyance.

“This is a black ops site.” His brother said simply. “It is common sense for such facilities to-”

“Enough!” Echo growled over them. “Tech, can you reach an access panel? Maybe we can figure out a way to override the fail-safe.” I stopped listening as the discussion wandered toward subjects beyond my understanding.

“Hunter, how are you holding up?” Movements slow, I kneeled beside him once more, unable to ignore the way his body nearly shuddered in pain from even shallow breaths.

“‘m f’n.” He didn’t so much as try to look at me as he said it.

“Hunter.” I called more forcefully, setting my pack down quietly beside me when he didn’t answer. “Hey, I’m going to take your helmet off. Okay?” Voice lowered into a gentle murmur, I quickly removed my own before reaching for his, pausing a moment to grant him time to refuse, but, when he offered no objection, carefully eased the bucket from his head. Unmuffled by the thick layer of duraplast, I could clearly make out the quiet whistle catching on every inhale, and the unrelenting trickle of blood from his distorted nose left me uneasy.

I looked toward the doorway for just a moment more before reluctantly setting my pistol down beside me, fingers nearly twitching with the urge to immediately pick it back up.

“I think it’s time for some more meds. What do you say?” I tried to sow a joking temptation into my words, pleased that he at least managed to open his eyes enough to glance at me, if only briefly. “Thought you were eager to join the fight just a few minutes ago?” I teased, hoping to draw a proper response from him. His jaw shifted, but the attempt to swallow faltered beneath a wince, and I almost didn’t want to check what monstrous bruises lay hidden beneath the cover of blood and cloth.

“Y… y’ g’na g’v me a g’n?” I almost couldn’t make out what he tried to say, but felt a new sense of urgency quicken my movements as I dug through my bag.

“You planning on shooting Echo? Because, right now, he and I are the only ones in here with you.” He let out a weak hum, not bothering to look down as I pulled one of his gloves off.

“C’n’t… c’n’t sw’low.” He didn’t flinch when I slipped the IV into the back of his hand.

“This should help.” I murmured. “Some pain killers, some anti-inflammatories, and a couple other things to get you moving again.” His eyes strained to focus on me, and I knew he’d heard everything I pointedly left unsaid; that the meds I’d listed were only the least concerning ones saturating his IV. I didn’t tell him about the vitamin K and platelets I was flooding him with in hopes of stopping the bleeding; both what could clearly be seen and what couldn’t. I didn’t tell him that I was straining against the bag of fluids to force the saline into his veins because the risk of hypovolemic shock was too great to be ignored; that the frightful pallor of his sweat-soaked skin and quickness of his breathing sent my heart racing nearly as fast as his, but he could only maintain that focus for a few seconds before falling back into something far too near to unconsciousness.

“Can you tilt your head back for me?” My hands reached up to lightly rest on either side of his neck before delicately tugging at the lip of his blacks. It was faint, but he just managed to tilt his chin up, allowing me to more easily cut through the fabric. The mess of blood and bruises beneath obscured skin just starting to show the beginnings of stubble. I was barely able to brush the ridge of his Adams apple before he winced in pain.

“You’d think they’d be more careful with your neck during a damn interrogation…” I muttered with a sigh.

“Th’nk I… made ‘m angry.” His lips just managed to twitch into a smirk that made my heart soar.

“You?” I scoffed teasingly, “Get on someone’s nerves? Nah.” That smirk grew, and I had to ignore the guilt that churned through my stomach as I retrieved some bacta.

“Alright; I’m going to get some goo on that neck. I know it’s sensitive, so I’ll try to be careful, okay?” His grin instantly fell, jaw tensing as he gave a small, stiff nod. His leg twitched slightly at the first touch of that cool gel against his swollen throat, breath catching in a pained grunt that he only just managed to silence.

“I know, honey.” The quiet murmur fluttered thoughtlessly passed my lips with a sympathetic frown.

“H’ney?” He nearly huffed, voice strained beneath a vain attempt to ignore the hurt lancing through him at even the featherlight caress of my fingers. “Cr’ss ‘s gonna th’nk you’re… you’re goin’ sweet on me.” I let out a quiet chuckle, ignoring the way my cheeks threatened to warm beneath the thought.

“You let me worry about that grumpy brother of yours.” He offered another grin, if only briefly at my whispered reply, and I let out a small sigh of relief at how he began to slump back against the wall, that accursed tension easing as the combination of meds began to offer him some bit of respite, but the steady stream of blood from his nose refused to quell.

“Hunter, we’ve got one more thing we need to deal with before you can relax.” I warned reluctantly. He let out a short breath but otherwise didn’t bother moving. “Either I straighten your nose now and then treat it, or I just treat it to stop the bleeding and have to re-break it later.” I didn’t press him for an answer, but he didn’t have to explain. I knew what he wanted by the way his body sank with a heavy exhale.

“You know, the first time I fixed a broken nose was actually Emmy’s.” I told him, voice purposefully quiet as I set out strips of tape and some bacta spray before carefully palpating the swollen flesh. I knew he was barely listening, focus instead on trying to fight the tension plaguing him from the impending pain. “She was trying to wrestle her brother into a cab – he’d gotten a bit too drunk at our engagement party.”

“Engageme-” In that brief moment of distraction, I wrenched his nose straight. His breath fled him in a choked grunt, hand darting up to lock around my forearm tight enough to make my vambrace creak in protest. I didn’t want to think about the damage he might have done without that protective armor, heart stuttering at the powerful display.

“K-kriff… s’ry…” He muttered, releasing me with an almost jerked motion.

“It’s fine, Hunter.” I assured warmly, fingers flitting over his nose with tape to offer it some bit of support before retrieving the bacta. “Alright, I want you to try to take a deep breath in.” He was still scowling from the lingering hurt as he tried to obey me. I didn’t offer further warning before flooding his nostril with blue gel, free hand locking around the back of his head as he threw himself back in a violent recoil, straining to follow the sharp movement even as my stomach churned at the choked retch that tore through him.

“I know, I know. One more.” I murmured quickly, granting no reprieve before doing the same to the other side. His hands latched onto my sides, grip burring into my cuirass in a barely repressed effort to rip himself free of me. “Alright, it’s alright.” I whispered softly, fingers shifting gently through his hair in a way that I knew would send a pleasant shiver through him, and he nearly collapsed against me, face twisted into a snarl, torso bucking in a torrent of painful coughs. After securing a final strip of tape to hold a pad of gauze beneath his nose, I allowed us both a moment of quiet, arms wrapping carefully around him in hopes of granting him some breadth of comfort.

“E… e-gaged?” He asked, voice thick and nasally, yet I still found myself laughing softly.

“Don’t sound so surprised.” I replied with a feigned insult that gleaned a tiny huff from him as my fingers gently curled through his hair. “She and I got through med-school together – that says something.” Jaw parted around still heavy breaths, he shifted enough to glance up at me, but before he could gather strength to speak, another tremor tore through the base, this one far more powerful than the last.

“Echo?” I could hear the trepidation stealing through me, felt my shoulders tense and my mouth go dry as my gaze glanced nervously over the unknown tons of duracrete and steel overhead.

“That wasn’t us.” He said darkly. My hand darted out to snatch my pistol, eyes flicking back to the doorway.

“Can you hear anything coming?” I asked Hunter. He paused, straining to focus for a long moment.

“Looks like it came from outside.” Echo added, attention focused on the stream of data pouring into his mind through the terminal. I didn't want to think about what that might mean. Had Crosshair caused the explosion? Was he under attack? Was he alive?

“Hmm…” A weak hum sounded from Hunter, catching my attention. His brow was furrowed in concentration, eyes closed. “…droids.” Kriff.

“Echo!” I called over my shoulder before turning my attention back to the crumpled man before me. “Can you tell how many?” He paused before shaking his head.

“’nough.” He muttered, breath quickening before he tried to push himself up.

“Whoa – hold on, hold on; let me help.” I was at his side before I’d finished speaking, gently pulling his arm over my shoulder

“What’s going on?” Echo asked. I could hear the dread in his voice; the certainty that he wasn’t going to like the answer to his question.

“Droids. We need to move.” He didn’t question me, gaze flicking only briefly to Hunter before kneeling down to retrieve the abandoned bucket to slip back onto his brother’s head. The look he sent me upon noting the hitch of his shoulders with each half-gasp, the amount of blood soaking his shirt and the still present hiss with his every inhale, left me tensing my jaw.

“I’ve got him.” I assured him. If it came to a fight, there was no question who was more valuable, and I couldn’t dismiss my simple want to be the one Hunter leaned against; memories from so long ago forever fresh in my mind when we’d been captured together, when hidden speakers left him crippled and in agony, and he’d turned to me for comfort rather than his brother. I hoped I could offer him that same comfort now as I donned my own helmet once again and eased him to his feet.

“Tech, we’ve got droids incoming. I had to leave the terminal.” Echo warned, purposeful strides carrying him toward the door.

“Wait; it would appear most of the droids are mobilizing.” We quickly paused at Tech’s comment. “Based on where you described yourselves to be, I do not believe they are converging at your location.”

“Crosshair.” Hunter mumbled against my chest. I had to swallow back the anxiety coiling through my gut, had to force the image of Crosshair luring an army of battle droids into the surrounding wilds from my mind. Each member of this squad was a frightening force in their own right, but his strengths didn’t lie in close quarters and limited visibility…

“I believe the location they are headed is nearer to us… Wrecker and I will investigate and report back. Perhaps, this will yield a way out of here.” Be careful. The words were held back only by how forcefully my teeth ground together. It didn’t need to be said lest even that tiny distraction prove disastrous.

“We’ll stay holed up here. If we don’t hear from them in ten minutes, we’ll move out – see if we can catch up with them.” Hunter offered no objection to how effortlessly Echo stepped into his role, and I worried for the true cause of that silence. Was it trust? The knowledge that Echo’s tactical mind was one of the brightest in the GAR? Or were teasing retorts subdued by pain and exhaustion? Ten minutes was a lifetime that could mean the difference between Hunter merely being hurt and his condition becoming critical, and my worry grew with each passing second.

Next Chapter

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[chlobliviate]

Wolfstar Microfics - Bronze

words: 785

@wolfstarmicrofic

🌙✨🌙✨🌙

It was the summer before sixth year, Sirius was finally living with the Potters and everything was looking up. His nightmares were less frequent, he was sleeping more and eating an amount fit for a teenage boy. Effie was trying to teach him to cook and some of it was going in. It really seemed like the perfect summer.

Until Remus returned from France, Lyall Lupin had ministry work in Marseille for almost five weeks, meaning that Sirius hadn’t seen Remus in over a month. He did notice that he didn’t care as much about not seeing Pete for over a month but shrugged it off as a canine camaraderie thing.

When Remus popped out of the grand fireplace in the drawing room, Sirius was speechless. Remus, with his sandy hair and his pink cheeks, was now all shades of bronze. He had freckles.

James seemed to sense that they’d be getting no sense out of Sirius for a little while, “Fuck, Moony. You’re all… Did you just lie under the sun the whole time?”

“Reading in the sun is the best way to spend a summer.” Remus looked curiously at Sirius. “Maybe not if you’re as pale as you, Pads. You’d just burn.”

“He’d go a glorious pink!” James said proudly. “Want a cuppa?”

“Yeah, I’d love one. Thanks, Prongs.” Remus dropped his bag onto the floor by the sofa as James bustled off to make the tea. “Pete not here yet?”

Sirius shook his head trying to tear his eyes away from Remus’ face, “Nah, he’s getting here about six. His mum has a thing or something.”

Remus nodded, “How’s your summer been? Hope you didn’t miss me too much.”

“Honestly, best summer ever.” Sirius finally relaxed, “I still don’t feel like it’s real. I keep expecting to wake up back at Grimmauld Place.”

“You never need to wake up there again,” Remus said softly, and Sirius smiled at him. “Thanks for writing to me, by the way. Not that being in Marseilles wasn’t great, but Dad had work and then with Mum having to go back and care for Nana, it was lonely.”

“Oh, no problem. Thanks for writing back. Hope it didn’t interrupt your tanning sessions.”

“Do I really look that different?” Remus chewed on the side of his lip.

“You’re all… bronze. Your hair, your face. It’s wild. Your scars being paler than your skin is weird. In a good way!” He added hastily, “It suits you.”

“Well, thanks.” Remus could feel his face growing even darker. “It’s a shame we’re about to go back to Scottish Autumn.”

“You could find one of those muggle squirty tans.”

Remus chuckled, “Nah, I don’t think that’s for me. I’ll just fade back to pale Remus and it’ll be like it never happened.”

Sirius tried to understand why he didn’t like that thought. He liked this new confident, smiling Remus. Would that also fade with the tan? Or was that just a consequence of spending several weeks alone in France? The thought that maybe he’d met a nice French girl made his stomach churn. It would explain a lot about the way Remus carried himself now.

James came back with a tea tray. “Mum and Dad are out tonight, but Mum made us dinner before she left so we won’t starve.”

“Hey, I can cook now!” Sirius snapped, to Remus’ surprise.

“Making pasta bake and egg fried rice is not the same as being able to cook.” James sighed.

“But it’s more than you can do, Prongs.” Remus smiled at Sirius. “And you’ve lived with your mum for sixteen and a half years.”

“Ugh, I should have known you pair of dogs would start ganging up on me within minutes of getting here.” James poured the tea into three mugs carefully. “Just wait until Lily starts spending time with us, then I’ll have someone on my side.”

“Firstly, you wish, and secondly, bold of you to assume she wouldn’t side with Moony.” Sirius gestured at him, “Especially when he looks like this!”

James gave him a strange look before turning back to Remus, “How were the French girls?” He waggled his eyebrows, “Any French stories to tell?”

Remus said nothing, but a smile teased at one corner of his mouth, and Sirius suddenly panicked. He picked up his mug and took a sip, even though it was way too hot. “Don’t hassle the man, James. Just because you’re not getting any!”

“Oh, because you are?” James said, at the same time Remus nodded at him in silent thanks. “Honestly, Moony, can you teach Sirius to be better at silencing charms while you’re here?”

Sirius choked on his tea.

[venomwrites]

Something something blindfolding and handcuffs - doesn’t have to be sexy though can def be angsty because even though vi was acting real cool about it I doubt it didn’t give her a fair share of panic

The shackles are heavy in Caitlyn’s hands. 

How many nights has she dreamed about this? 

How may ways has she dreamed about this?

Vi being slapped with shackles and dragged back and held until she saw reason. Until the anger in her eyes shifted back to Jinx where it belonged. Because surely at some point it was directed there. It was just buried under the anguish. Surely Caitlyn did not read things that wrong, Vi only needed to see reason. 

Vi being shackled and hung and Caitlyn not knowing until it was too late. Until all that was left of Vi was her broken corpse, feet dangling from the bridge where she had saved her life. Ambessa’s hand falling heavy and triumphant on her shoulder as a scream starts but she can’t tell if it’s her own or Jinx’s or Vi’s ghost. It rings in her ears long after she shoots up in bed. 

There’s barely any pink left on the woman in front of her. 

“Let’s do this,” Vi says and holds out her wrists. 

Vi with her hands knotted above her head, looking up at her with trust as she is stretched along her bed. Her tattoos glisten and her hips rock as Caitlyn tastes every scar on her face. Ever scar lower on her body. Every shade of pink that makes up Vi’s kaleidoscope. 

Caitlyn thinks she might be sick.

“I can’t,” Caitlyn says. 

“What? Why not?” Vi looks almost indignant, “you’ve been arresting people for months.”

Caitlyn doesn’t know how to say ‘but not you’ without sounding like even more of a monster to Vi. All the Enforcers know Vi is to be isolated if she’s captured. Caitlyn makes up some reason about betrayal and Enforcers and agrees to whatever the next thing Ambessa says is so she can have this one. Of course Vi is never arrested and now she’s standing in front of Caitlyn with her arms outstretched. 

“Wait, before that you gotta hit me,” Vi says, “so it’s believable,” Caitlyn can only stare at her, “probably should be the face this time.”

“Excuse me,” she stammers out and shoves herself away.

Vi’s right about all of them. They’re as outdoors as they can be and their blindspot is small but Caitlyn gets right to the edge of it. The pain in her chest almost makes her hands shake. She’s played out seeing Vi again in a million different ways but this, this is something else. This is something she’s already done. Something she knows she’ll regret for the rest of her life. 

“Cupcake—Cait,” Vi’s voice is tight, “we don’t have time for this right now.”

“I know,” Caitlyn says. 

“Well—“

“Just give me a moment,” Caitlyn snaps. 

Vi glares back at her and shoves her hands into her pockets, muttering a curse under her breath. There’s less desperation in her now. Less need. In an odd way she’s steadier than the last time.  Her shoulders tense and she turns around. Caitlyn realizes she’s squaring up to make her hit her. And somehow that makes everything worse. 

Vi thinks she has to manipulate her. 

It’s like they’re back in Stillwater.

“Where?” Caitlyn grits out. Vi jams at her cheek, right under her tattoo, “that’s too close to your eye.”

“It has to be believable,” Vi says hotly, then gives a roguish smile, “besides, I block with my face.”

“Still?”  

Vi’s features twist which only makes her recently broken nose more apparent. Her eyes dart back towards her and if Caitlyn didn’t know better she’d say there was something like hope in her eyes. But the expression vanishes as quickly as it came and Vi squares her shoulders, turning to face her. 

“Just aim for the tattoo,” she mutters. 

Caitlyn can’t bear to do that. 

The sharp, surgical blow is still enough to whip Vi’s head to the side. It makes Caitlyn feel about ten inches tall when Vi’s gaze swings back to her. There’s no mistaking the anger. Though Caitlyn wishes she could. She can’t quite stop herself from stepping forward. The skin is bright and red against Vi’s pale skin. 

Caitlyn wishes the color didn’t look so much like the Vi who haunts her dreams. 

“You missed,” Vi says, rubbing near the spot.

“No.”

Vi’s hand pauses. Caitlyn turns back to the cuffs before she can speak. They feel just as heavy if not worse than they did a moment ago. 

Slapping the shackles on Vi herself in the temple and dragging her back. Not letting her go. Vi breathing hard in her ear as they made their way back Topside where Vi belonged now. Back to the Manor, back to home, back to where everything made sense. 

“Cait—“

“You’re right, we’re wasting time,” she says, “wrists.”

Vi thrusts them out. Vi’s hands have always been a mess. When they met it was by virtue of hitting concrete walls and faces with minimal protection. But she scrounged what she could. Her hands are still a mess but now there’s a carelessness to them. Half healed knuckles she’s continued to punch on, dirty wraps, its a miracle they are only swollen.

“When is the last time you broke out of these?” Vi shrugs, “we need to make sure you can.”

“I’ll be fine,” Vi says. Caitlyn holds her gaze, “fine! Here!” 

She slaps the cuffs on and gets out of them quickly. It’s a relief but Caitlyn can see the edge on her. Still she rallies and puts her hands behind her back, slapping them on again. Vi is always at her most brilliant when she’s protecting. Caitlyn wonders how she forgot that. 

“Last thing,” she says and she can’t help the apologetic tone though she knows it’ll just infuriate Vi. 

Vi sneers at the bag in her hands. Vi hates the dark. She has for as long as Caitlyn’s known her. Even in the pits of the Fissures, Vi went for the one place that had light. She hates being in the dark. Still. Her eyes flit from the bag to her before her features set in determination. 

“Do it.”

“I’m—“

“Don’t,” Vi cuts her off, “just do it.”

Caitlyn nods and approaches, guiding the bag over Vi’s face. Vi tenses when it gets near her nose. Caitlyn can’t imagine all the places on her that must hurt. She takes care not to touch her as she guides the bag down. Until all she can see of Vi is her bruised colored lips. 

“Just focus on your Dad,” Caitlyn says. 

“Wait,” Vi’s voice comes tight and strangled, “promise me you won’t hurt Powder.”

Caitlyn’s mouth goes dry at the collision of emotions. All of this—all of it can be worth it. She wants to take her in. She needs to kill her. She cannot believe Vi is even asking that she not make this all mean something. Anything. All that was lost has to be for something—

Vi makes a noise in the back of her throat. 

“Cait—“ Vi chokes out, “please—“

It’s like being doused in cold water. The consequences of her actions are standing in front of her. Caked in grease and pain and Gods knew what else. And somehow still fighting. Still trying to aim her punches even if she was blind. Ambessa’s words echo in her head. Caitlyn doesn’t know if she’s strong enough to forgive Jinx. She doesn’t want to. But if Vi is strong enough to let her darken the world, surely—surely she can try. 

“Alright,” she spits out.

Vi sucks in a breath and relaxes. 

She believes her. 

Caitlyn doesn’t deserve her faith. She doesn’t deserve her trust. She knows that and yet Vi gives it. She stares down the darkness and the fear and claws her way back. Enforcers talk about bravery, they aspire to it. Vi puts them all to shame. It’s so bright Caitlyn can barely stand to look. 

So she pulls the bag down over Vi’s lips and resolves not to give her any more ghosts.