#i have been hunter by this idea but I have no ship name

[bitchimasnake-sss]

HI SWEETIEEEE, LOVE UR WRITING

Can you PLEAAAAASEEE make reader with breeding kink? Like, how would Sanji, Luff and ussop react to their partner asking for being filled/breed?

Btw, tell me I'm cool for asking without anon or I'll cry.

UR THE COOOOLEST FOR ASKING WITHOUT ANON GIRLY!! i salute your confidence, also ur veryyyy pretty (i stalk you through your window) and also here's the filth you want mwuahh 😚😚

𐙚thinkin' about: the monster trio, ace 'n law! vs breeding kink!

NOT PROOFREAD. JUST PURE HORNY. cw: they all kinda wanna be dads. im sorry. i just wrote it. they wanna be dads now. its cannon. pussydrunk!men. nsfw includes: praise, a lot of overstimulation and talks of "being a dad" and "getting a mini-me", penetration, cunnilingus, loads of creampie [obviously.] and smex. lots of smex. m.list

🍒monkey d. luffy: going insane at the mere idea.

❤️"ngh~ hah again." from the way luffy said it, you're not quite sure whether he was asking or telling. but you weren't sure of a lot of things like where he ended and you began, which round were you on, yada yada. eitherways, you shouldn't worry that pretty little head of yours, not when you're the reason the captain of your ship was panting like this against you. hot huffs clashing against your skin with every strained movement of his hips. all because you had had the audacity to come up to the captain of the ship, pull him by his shirt to your room, strip and tell him to "fill you up." like are you insane?! did you want to kill him?! ❤️you're lucky that your captain has a strong heart, and an even stronger will... because now his hips were bucking into you wildly, hot stings against your thighs where he collided over and over and over again. whispering like a man gone mad, "fill you up, p-please. you wanted th-that right? you want me to fuck you like this? over 'n over 'gain?" and you must have been on a mission from the marines cause you just caught your trembling, bottom lips and hiccupped out a soft, "y-yes, please, cap'n." oh that wretched nick-name, goddamit. ❤️and now he's rutting into you harder, his tongue pushing against yours in such a lewd display of love. when he parted from from you, strings of glistening saliva connected you both. before they dropped downwards, stagnating against his bottom lips. "gonna have a little me runnin' around, i promise." monkey d luffy grinned, so pussy-drunk from the way you were clenching and gnawing at his aching dick. you wanted it just as much as he did, huh? with short, persistent thrusts into your gummy walls, he's cumming inside you once again, "one more time, p-pretty. promise this'll be the last. hah gotta make sure i get it right, y-yeah?" liar. he said that the last three times too.

🍀roronoa zoro: daddy or father? you choose. ps: both.

💚whatever you expected, this was not it. when you had waltzed into zoro's room while he was napping, closed the lock behind you, straddled his hips and huskily beg for him to fill you up, you didn't expect this. you didn't expect the man who was reluctant to even think about a family to prep you for his cock like he wanted a kid right fucking now. 💚you didn't expect the goddamn demon of the sea, former marine-hunter and the current first mate of your crew to caress your cheek so softly, to look you in your eyes with nothing but devotion as he thrusted his fingers into you so mean. "you're serious?" he mumbled against your skin and you nodded, half-delirious from the unfaltering pumps and your crescendo into another orgasm, "ye-yeah, i am, zoro." the swordman grinned, chasing his action with a mean slap to your aching cunt. fuck. and for a moment you saw something inherently holy in his action, "you want me to fill you up? you wanna make me a dad, angel?" "ngh ohmygod—" your eyes rolled back as his nimble fingers messily circle your clit before pinching the nub slowly. his voice husked, "my girl wants me to fuck her till i get a mini-me around?" 💚of course you cannot now blame roronoa zoro for the way he was fucking you without any breaks. not when you were the one who had nodded and assured him that a little him would be soo cute. "me? a dad?" zoro mumbled again. and for someone who only talked in grunt and groans and huffs when he was fucking you like he was going to ruin you, he sure was talking a lot. he repeated, "shit, my girl's gonna make me a dad?" "zoro, no-no more, please—" you pawed at his biceps, trying to pry him off of you. you could practically feel yourself filled to the brim, the milky white pouring out of your so obscenely and collecting at the base of his pretty cock with every little thrust into you. "no, no. no." he almost sounded cocky when he pulled his dick back and used his fingers to stuff them back in, "come on, now. don't waste any." he grinned, feral, "'m gonna be a fucking dad." jesus christ, what kind of demon did you let out tonight?

🫐vinsmoke sanji: living out his dreams (while buried in you).

💙honestly, you must have had courage pouring through you veins to ask sanji to fill you up. him and fatherhood were no joke. vinsmoke sanji had seen you for exactly 1.52 seconds when he realized he would have a family with you immediately, or get rejected over and over till he gets you and then have a family with you. 💙"and th-then i'd get her whatever she wants." sanji rambled on, hips stuck in a periodic rhythm as his tip caught against your g-spot again and again. "s-sanji." you stuttered, trying to throw your head over your shoulders to meet his flushed face. he had held your back flush against his chest, face reddened and lips trembling as he kissed your neck. your heart fluttered at his reaction, "there's- we d-don't have a kid yet... y'know that, right?" because from the way he was planning, it sure seemed like the kid was alive and well in his mind. the blonde nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, his finger slowly thumbing your clit, using your wetness to his leverage to bring yourself to destruction once more, "so, what, love? i'll fuck you till i get it, right?" 💙and who were you to deny him of that when his fingers glided through your folds easily and he rocked his hips gently, trying to coax another orgasm out of your tired bones. his breath was hot against your shoulder, "we're gonna have such a cute kid, r-right, love?" "mhm, w-we will." you nodded, the pit in your stomach tightening cruelly at his candied words. and he smiled against your shoulder, words slurring at the thoughts, "god, she'd be so cute." "sanji," you whined, your voice shaking as he finally pulled himself out. the warm fluid cascaded down your folds and sanji tsked in mock distress, "shh, looks like i gotta do it all over again." don't complain. you're the one who made him this way.

🦋portgas d. ace: don't ask for what you can't handle.

🧡"a-ace." your voice waivered pathetically as his hot breath played against your trembling pussy. his grin was cocky, eyes hidden by his hat as he husked against your wetness, "what?" "s-stop teasing." you tried, only for him to laugh at your pathetic efforts to sound stern. he tipped his face back, eyes glinting with something malignant, "you started it, baby." "i wasn't teasing." 🧡oh so you weren't teasing when you walked into his room, interrupted his paperwork and asked him so, so nicely to fill you up tonight? ace's eyebrows quirked up in part-surprise, part-delight as he slowly kissed your inner thigh. eyes never leaving yours. he smiled all over again, "you want me knock you up? give you my kid? awh, want me to fuck you till i get it right?" oh and the way you averted your eyes, looking oh-so-shy at his question, it had ace wanting to ruin you all over again. 🧡you were spread so deliciously on his bed, your glistening cunt on display just for him to edge you and watch you drip over and over again. the sheets underneath were soiled from your juices, he was sure his crew-mates would tease him to no extent with the way you were screaming his name but none of that mattered. when you writhed against him, your aching hands pushing his pretty face away and pulling him back into you all over again, ace hummed, "what? too much already? but we haven't even started." not when he took his hat off and gave you bestial grin. untamed, animalistic, primal. portgas d ace just made a promise, "when i finally give you what you want, don't you dare run away. or i think we both know how it'll end." it'll end with you stuffed full of him. it'll end with his finger past your pretty lips, with you choking on your own moans and his thick digits as he pumped you full. it'll end with him humming, "running away? no. don't you dare." after all, portgas d. ace never broke a promise.

🪻trafalgar d. water law: doc please don't knock her up.

💜your boyfriend was a doctor. surely, you must have more common sense than to bother him while he was already drowning under paperwork with the ideas of a little you and him running around. surely. "'s a terrible id-idea," he stuttered uncharacteristically as you has fiddled with his shirt, giving him such a sickly sweet smile, "why? you don't wanna?" "no—" his voice faltered as you slowly perched upon his lap and undid his button one by one. "'s just a kid is a huge responsibility, and we're not r-ready," his breath hitched when you kissed his neck. your words stilled against the column of his throat, "pretty please, doc?" it's like you lived to raise his blood pressure. 💜so, now back was was pressed into the cold wood of his table, your knees pulled apart on his broad chest. his dick slipped in and out of you as his tattooed fingers pinched your clit. "l-law, please." your eyes were brimming with tears. aching, fat droplets that fell down as he continued to fuck you on that creaking wooden desk. you babbled as he rut into you harder, flushed tip bumping against your abused g-spot, "'m done, i-i'm sorry ngh, c'mon." "you're hah— crying?" don't let anyone know but maybe law was a bit of a sadist with the way he grinned, "i thought you wanted this?" 💜good point. you were the one who wanted to be pinned down onto that wretched desk and fucked into till you lost the feeling in your legs and your body trembled with every shallow way he drilled into you. so, take it. any faltering whines and moans were pointless. his actions were unhurried, pace rhythmic even as you spasmed around him due to the overstimulation. as your velvety holes gnawed at him, the doctor found himself spilling into you with little to no sanity left in him. "hah fuck—" law breathed heavily, eyes going wide as he pulled out and saw his milky essence dripping out of you so obscenely. his gaze fell upon your flushed face. your eyes were clenched shut, mouth parted in utter bliss. all reason and rhyme left the man as he found himself nudging his tip back into your trembling cunt, "shit. come on, baby. you wanted this." he isn't lying. you did want it.

a/n: first time writing law, lowkey nervous teehee 🤭🤗. i come out of the writers block on and off so im sorry im shit at posting. also i know i wrote ace n law longer okay I KNOW DONT TELL ME SHHH. i just got carried away 👉🏻👈🏻. couldn't write ussop for the life of my but i hope you like it anyways @shinysp4rk mwuah <3 m.list

[thebettybook]

The hunter who reached for the star

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Characters: OPLA (One Piece Live Action) Roronoa Zoro x Straw-Hat-Crew-Member!gn!reader. This fic is written in Zoro’s point of view

Summary: Reader gets an idea to draw portraits of the Straw Hat crew. While the other crew members make the portrait sessions fun and chaotic, Zoro takes it as a chance to spend more time with Reader

Warnings: Mild cursing from Zoro. Sanji cheekily references the “draw me like one of your French girls” line from Titanic for laughs. Other than that, all fluff

Strawbetty’s notes: Y’all were so sweet with my OPLA Zoro crush headcanons post so here’s a oneshot as my thanks :)🫶

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Zoro sat at the far right end of the tiny dining table in the Going Merry’s kitchen. Despite being surrounded by his fellow Straw Hats, Zoro had his eyes closed and his arms loosely crossed in front of his torso.

Like at most mealtimes, the other crew members were far too engaged in their lively chatter and harmless bickering to notice that Zoro was trying to sleep.

Instead of dozing off, Zoro could only think about the conversation he had with you last night—how the two of you, both unable to fall asleep, gazed up at the stars.

Every word, every sensation, replayed in his mind—from the midnight waves that lulled the ship to the way his name softly rolled off your tongue like a siren’s song—

“Zoro.”

He heard you call his name at the table, pulling him from his recollections. His thin, dark eyelashes fluttered, but he didn’t crack his eyes open. He was too tired to do so.

“Zoroooo!” Luffy stretched his neck from his seat at the head of the table to the end of the table where Zoro sat. The captain didn't hesitate to place his mouth right next to Zoro's left ear. “WAKE UP!”

Zoro’s eyebrows furrowed just a bit as Luffy’s voice pierced his ears. The stoic swordsman opened his eyes, his brown orbs glittering with annoyance. “I’m awake.”

Luffy cackled before snapping his head back in place and turning his attention back to his breakfast of potato bacon soup with a loaf of bread.

“Good morning, Zoro,” your smile, albeit sheepish, eased Zoro’s fatigue a bit. “We were talking about how it would be nice to have official portraits of ourselves, so I offered to draw everyone’s portraits after we all finish eating.”

“I’ll practice my poses!” Usopp chimed in, comically pursing his lips and sucking in his cheekbones to appear like a model. “You know what I always say, if I didn’t join this crew, I would’ve been a model by now.”

“Sure you would’ve,” Zoro couldn’t help but respond with his usual sarcasm, earning him an offended look amped up for dramatics from Usopp.

“Would you like to have your portrait drawn, too, Zoro?” You leaned forward with your elbows resting on the table, giving him a hopeful smile.

Even though Zoro didn’t really care for having his portrait done, and even though he would usually say “no” at any given chance to anyone concerning anything, there was no way Zoro could say “no” to you.

Plus, you drawing his portrait would mean the two of you would get to spend more quality time together. No way would Zoro pass up that chance.

“Mm,” Zoro answered, his voice rumbling an octave lower due to his drowsiness. “I’ll go last.”

Despite Zoro’s nonchalant attitude, his heartbeat quickened when he saw your smile widen.

— — — — —

The setting you chose was a blue-and-white-striped seating area between two rectangular ivory windows in the main room that provided the area with ample lighting from the sun outside.

Zoro watched you pull up a chair a few feet away in front of the seating area for you to sit on while you would draw your portraits. As you placed your drawing papers and pencils on the pool table next to you, Zoro made his way to the far corner of the room to rest on a cushioned bench underneath a circular window.

With one leg propped up, Zoro shifted to get comfortable on the bench and rested his left arm across his torso.

Finally. Zoro shut his eyes, but his ears couldn't shut out the voices of everyone around him.

The first person you drew was Luffy, who would ask you a fleet of questions like “What do you think we’re gonna see at the next island?” or “Wanna know about the craziest dream I had last night?”.

As much as Zoro was (endearingly) used to Luffy’s enthusiasm by now, Zoro contemplated leaving to get some peace and quiet in his own room. He was about to open his eyes and do so before he heard your laugh.

“Luffy! Stop changing your face!” You giggled at how Luffy stretched his mouth out a mile wide.

“What? I’m trying to give you the biggest smile I can!” Luffy’s words jumbled together with his mouth still wide open, only making you laugh more.

That melodic laugh of yours was one Zoro could listen to all day and night no matter how tired he was. He continued to sit on the bench, but his eyes were now open and fixed on you and the rest of the crew around you.

The next person you drew was Usopp, who kept twisting and turning his face and body in hopes of looking like a supermodel.

“Just relax, Usopp,” you chuckled, putting your pencil down.

“I can’t relax,” Usopp threw his head back dramatically. “I’m Usopp, Supermodel of the Seven Seas. Make sure to get both of my good sides.”

Pfft. Zoro let out an amused huff under his breath at the same time you rolled your eyes at Usopp, who simply shot you a cheesy grin.

After Usopp was Sanji, who took off his pink chef’s apron from making brunch to don his usual black suit blazer over a striped blue dress shirt and black pants.

The first thing Sanji did was lay sideways on the couch with his body facing towards you. He propped an elbow up and rested the side of his head on his palm.

“Draw me like one of your French girls,” the cheeky chef winked at you, snickering at his own playfulness that betrayed his flirty facade.

“If you say that again, I’m throwing you overboard with nothing to save you but a door to float on,” you threatened, but you couldn’t help but cackle.

Your portrait session with Sanji couldn’t end soon enough. Zoro felt his usual mild annoyance towards the cook grow as he watched you and Sanji exchange popular references like they were your and Sanji’s inside jokes.

Luckily for Zoro, in a matter of minutes, you finished Sanji’s portrait and began drawing Nami. The Straw Hat’s navigator sat straight with perfect posture, and donned a sincere smile that softened her usual serious expression.

While Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji already had their portraits done, they stayed to hang out. The three of them pulled up chairs to the pool table, each taking one of your extra drawing papers and pencils to draw something of their own.

Luffy and Usopp’s eyes were fixed on their papers. Zoro guessed with a small smile that Luffy was probably drawing something food-related while Usopp was probably drawing himself.

Sanji, on the other hand, had his gaze fixed on Nami. Sanji was skilled and swift with his pencil strokes as he was with a chef’s knife, and anyone who looked at him at that moment would see a smile of genuine admiration on his face as he studied Nami.

Zoro turned his attention from the others back to you. He noted the way your gaze would shift between your paper and Nami as you sketched her.

He also noticed the slight pout your lips formed when you were completely in your element, focused on capturing the subject onto your paper.

The six of you fell into comfortable silence, and Zoro chose not to make any large movements as he basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun that glimmered into the room through the windows.

It was a rare moment like this where the entire crew was together in one room, not laughing or bickering or talking, but simply enjoying each other’s presence.

— — — — —

Zoro didn’t hesitate to get off the bench and make his way over to you once you handed Nami her portrait. He rotated one of his arms, trying to get out any kinks from his shoulder blades.

Unfortunately for Zoro, Sanji was the first to notice him.

“Looks like someone didn’t get enough beauty sleep in time for his portrait,” Sanji teased, earning a mild glare from Zoro.

The rest of the crew chortled in good nature, and before Zoro could respond with a biting comeback, you blurted out, “Zoro always looks good, though.”

Zoro barely had time to register what you just said, even when you covered your mouth with your hand in embarrassment.

Sanji, Usopp, and Nami quickly displayed all-knowing smirks on their faces, while Luffy piped up, “Sanji, I’m hungry and I wanna eat a snack.”

Zoro subtly sucked in the inside of his right cheek to stop himself from smiling at your statement right then and there. If he smiled, he’d never hear the end of it from the others.

“Ok, everyone who’s had their portraits done, out,” you turned your back to the crew, fumbling with your pencils and papers on the pool table. “And yes, go eat snacks or something.”

“Ok!” Nami, Usopp, Sanji, and Luffy all saluted you at the same time. The first three shared a mischievous look before all four of them skedaddled out of the room.

Once they all left, Zoro’s lips eased into the smallest of soft smiles as he made his way to stand next to you.

Zoro couldn’t decide between saying “Hey” or “What’s up?” to sound cool now that the two of you were alone, so he bent down slightly, peering at the portraits you drew of Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji that they had forgotten to take with them.

Zoro didn’t know much about art, nor did he have much of an eye for it, but even he could tell you were good at it. His eyes followed the charcoal lines of the three crew members’ features—Luffy’s scar, Usopp’s dimples, and Sanji’s stubble—and how perfectly you captured them on paper.

“Nice,” Zoro murmured. His eyes moved up from the portraits to you, only to find your eyes already on him.

“Thanks,” you gave him a grateful smile, fiddling with the pencil between your fingers.

“Where do you want me to be?” Zoro straightened up, but his eyes never left yours.

“You can sit right there between the windows,” you broke his gaze and pointed to the spot.

Zoro nodded, going over to the seating area between the two windows. He removed his three swords from the leather strap at his hips to sit down.

Instead of placing his swords to the side or on the floor, Zoro wrapped his right arm around his swords, his bicep flexing as he did so.

In his natural sitting position, Zoro sat up straight, his posture perfect from years of training as a swordsman. However, he wanted to appear casual, so he rested his left leg over his right and put his left hand in his pant pocket.

“Can you draw my swords, too?” Zoro’s eyes flicked back to yours.

“Yeah, of course,” you smiled, plopping down onto your chair with a blank piece of paper and your pencil ready.

Zoro then noticed the charcoal pencil smudges that caked your fingertips. He realized that throughout all the portrait sessions, you never once took a break.

He cleared his throat. “You should take a break.”

“What for?” Your eyebrows lifted in confusion.

“Just noticed you haven’t taken a break since you began drawing us,” Zoro stated. His tone came out flat but the way his eyes softened at you conveyed his care. “Go drink some water, or wash your hands, or something.”

Zoro didn’t realize that he probably sounded more blunt than he meant to, but your eyes only flew down to your hands.

“I’m good, but thank you for thinking of me,” you cracked a huge smile. “Actually, wanna hear a fun fact about me?”

Zoro nodded. He found himself curious that you didn’t wipe away or wash off the pencil smudges on your hands yet.

“I like keeping pencil smudges on my fingers until I’m done with a drawing or an art project,” you gently rubbed one of your fingertips, but the charcoal smudges remained. “It’s like marks that show I put my best effort into what I drew.”

“I get it,” Zoro glanced down at his left palm, which had hardened over the years from calluses he gained from swordsman training. “That’s how I feel about my calluses.”

He couldn’t contain a chuckle when you leaned forward in your seat, your eyes widening with intrigue as he held out his left palm to you.

The skin of his palm was rough, battered with Zoro’s badges of honor that were his calluses. He never really looked at his calluses much, but the way you marveled at them like the stars you marveled at last night made Zoro’s chest puff up a bit with pride.

“Very cool,” you grinned, leaning back in your seat. “Are you ready to get your portrait drawn, Roronoa Zoro with the cool hand calluses?”

An easy laugh escaped Zoro’s lips as he sat up a bit and repositioned his hands to his former pose. “Yep.”

You turned your focus to your paper and pencil, and your head tilted downwards a bit as you brought your pencil down to the paper.

Before you could begin your sketching, Zoro racked his brain for anything witty or funny to say, not wanting to waste the opportunity of having this alone time with you.

“Don’t get my bad side,” Zoro joked, but his words accidentally came out as serious with the stoic expression he kept for his portrait pose.

“You don’t even have a bad side,” you murmured without hesitation, your eyes still fixed on the paper as you began drawing him.

Zoro’s lips broke into the widest grin he had on all day. He turned his head to the right in an effort to hide his flustered expression, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from turning upwards and his eyebrows from lifting.

“Shit,” Zoro mumbled as low as he could, but his growing smile and movements utterly betrayed him.

“Ack, Zoro! Don’t move!” You grumbled at him.

Zoro hid his face in his right shoulder. Both of his shoulders shook as he let out a hearty laugh.

“I’ll never get your portrait done at this rate,” you huffed.

“Good,” Zoro replied with nonchalant defiance. He turned his face back towards you, peeking at you from underneath his eyelashes as you turned your gaze back to your paper.

Zoro’s eyes first saw how the sunlight hit your face, how the gold flecks of light saturated your irises and illuminated every imperfection on your face he thought was perfect.

If Zoro could draw half as well as you could, he wouldn’t hesitate to draw you right then and there.

He wasn’t the artist, but here he was, studying you—taking in every upward quirk of your lips, every back-and-forth of your gaze from your paper to him, every movement you made—and trying his best to capture them all with the sharp pencil that was his memory.

It was only the two of you in the room, and you were only a few feet away in front of him, but Zoro couldn’t help but feel that you were so far away from him.

With the comfortable silence between you two, Zoro’s mind filled with the conversation he had with you last night.

— — — — —

“That’s Orion’s Belt,” you had pointed up to a constellation made of three stars last night. “Those three bright stars.”

Zoro turned his eyes up to follow your finger. “Who’s Orion?”

“Supposedly a demigod huntsman who passed and was placed up in the stars,” you hummed. “Wait, you’re kinda like Orion! With being a former pirate HUNTER and having THREE swords.”

Zoro brought his gaze back down from the stars to you.

“That’s a reach,” he scoffed. Zoro took a leisurely step back, the wooden floorboard of the Going Merry creaking a bit under the weight of his boots.

A crooked smirk glimmered on his face as he reached his hand up to the direction of Orion to humor you. “Literally.”

You chuckled, playfully nudging his shoulder. “Really? I thought there wasn’t anything Roronoa Zoro couldn’t do. Even reach for the stars.”

He wasn’t one to care for fluffy words or compliments, but your comment—and the way you spoke with such faith and confidence in him—sparked meteor showers in Zoro’s heart.

Zoro tried to avoid touching the back of his ears, which grew as hot as the stars. He shifted his body to rest his palms against the polished wooden railing of the Going Merry.

“Why do people like looking at things that are far away?” His eyebrows furrowed up at the stars in an attempt to change the subject.

“I think it’s because since the stars are so far away, all anyone can do is look at them and try to draw them,” you gazed up at the sky. “To capture that moment of seeing something that feels so far away from you but is so beautiful that you can’t help but want it near you.”

— — — — —

Zoro remembered not really understanding your words last night about people’s fascination with stars.

He didn’t get why people would yearn for something they couldn’t have.

Now, watching you as you drew him in daylight, Zoro understood what you meant.

You were physically near him a lot, bright and warm like a star he found himself wanting to get closer to, only to be reminded of the possibility that seemed as wide as a light-year that you might not feel the same.

He was lucky and he wasn’t. He could admire you up close but he had to keep his romantic feelings for you at bay.

Wait, scratch that.

Zoro was never one to believe in luck.

At his core, he was one to never back down from a challenge—to fight for what he wanted.

He didn’t know how you felt about him other than you regarded him as a close friend like he did with you, so there was a possibility he could get rejected.

Thus, Zoro’s pride from not wanting to get hurt prevented him from outright asking you right then and there if you liked him, too.

For now, Zoro would fight his pride with every chance he could get to spend more time with you—to build up his courage to confess his feelings to you someday.

To reach for the star.

And if that meant moving and messing up during this portrait session to lengthen his time with you, he’d do it again and again.

Zoro bided his time before he decided to part his lips.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled.

“What is?” You inquired, not stopping your hand with the pencil.

“A star,” Zoro didn’t hesitate to answer, knowing his reply was so bizarre it would get your attention.

And it did, as your eyebrows scrunched together and your head flew to the sides to look for a star outside the windows or one that miraculously appeared near you and Zoro somehow.

“Which one? And where?”

A genuine chuckle escaped from his lips, turning your eyes back to his. He hoped his next words would anchor your attention on him.

“The one right in front of me.”

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[ofoceansandtombsanew]

if gods exist, they made you perfect

cw. fem!reader, childhood friend au, ace novel spoilers (1st novel), pre-relationship, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, light mentions of child abuse (garp), brief loss in ace's ability to control his powers, reader receives a minor burn

pairing. portgas d. ace x reader

synopsis. not everyone is going to reach for ace's hand but you always will.

notes. a very indulgent idea that has been living rent free in my head since i've had it and now it is your problem. cover comes from frederic edwin church's twilight in the wilderness (1860). blazing red skies and ace simply go hand in hand.

"The Five Elders are gonna have the biggest bitch fit to ever fit," with how Ace blinks up at you in surprise, he must have been really lost in his thoughts. You broaden your smile as you plop down right next to him. "I don't think anyone's ever turned down a Warlord position before. Can't wait to see how your bounty goes up this time."

Ace snorts lightly at your words, lips stretching into half a grin, "yeah, they are not going to like that."

"It definitely doesn't help you kicked that vice admiral's ass, either," you recall the events of your final moments in Sabaody. A definitive mixed bag of.

It was a beautiful country, that much is easy to say. Still it came with more than you were prepared to witness. It's only luck there hadn't happened to be any visiting Celestial Dragons coinciding with your temporary residency. Somehow you have the feeling that things would have surely been messier if their had been.

The stint with Vice Admiral Draw will be messy enough on its own.

"Garp's gonna be so mad when he finds out," Ace shudders at even your mention of his grandfather and you snicker. "What if he comes to Fishman Island for one of his grand lectures?"

"Don't even joke like that," the back of his orange hat thumps against the side of the Spadille with his groan of horror. "I can feel his Fists of Love right now."

You feel the phantom pain yourself. If you're both lucky, the semi-retired marine is busy visiting Luffy on Dawn Island. Maybe it's not that lucky though. It isn't the first time the thought the man is even harsher on Luffy now that Ace has gone ahead and sworn his life to piracy surfaces. It's a thought you push away as quickly as you have it.

Luffy's a strong kid, he's fine.

He has a spirit that is unbreakable.

"That Draw guy deserved to get his ass beat anyway." There is no disagreement to be had with your statement, Ace murmuring something similar. He's a million miles away from where you are, however, miraculously sat on a ship sailing beneath the waves. "Isuka'll be fine," you say suddenly, cursing your inability to ease into the topic gently. "She's strong and she was on our ass since immediately after we got to the Grand Line. She'll be back to chasing us soon enough."

Hopefully.

It isn't something you can say with resolute faith.

The ensign's sense of reality itself had been shattered in its entirety. Being betrayed by the one you believed to be your savior is nothing easy to overcome. You choose to believe a woman as impassioned as the naval officer will. You won't pretend to know where she'll head next.

Perhaps she'll embark on a path that leads her back to the marines. Or maybe she'll become a bounty hunter.

Wherever her journey takes her, you can only hope it is a path with no regrets.

"It would have been weird having a bounty hunter on the ship, anyway," you clumsily attempt to soothe your friend. There is irony in how Ace became your better in terms of comforting those around you when he had been the most argumentative and unfriendly between you. "That sounds like something Luffy would do."

At the sound of Luffy's name, Ace's lips do quirk into something more real. "Yeah, that kid would invite just about anyone on his crew, bounty hunters included."

You chuckle trying to visualize what the young boy's recruitment process will be. Somehow, you doubt his prospective crewmates will have much say in the matter. "Knowing Luffy, they'll probably want to join anyway though. He's convincing like that."

"Yeah," Ace only falls deeper into his thoughts. The silence that follows is even more glum than the depths. Damn it, you curse yourself.

You've never been like Makino, you recall the kind-hearted woman from your youth. She's always been gentle, dove-like in her approach when it came to matters of the heart. Knew exactly the words someone needed to hear and knew exactly how to say it in a way that didn't feel intrusive to the recipient.

That has certainly never been you. If anything, you're more akin to Dadan and her rough expressions of affection.

You hold back a sigh, closing your eyes.

"Alright, I guess this is how we're doing this," you open your eyes at last. Shuffling, you face your friend who makes a sound of surprise at your movement. You aren't a delicate person nor are you someone with the ability to handle matters of the heart with the delicacy it deserves. It's best to handle it clumsily, the only way you know how. "Ace, the stuff with Isuka; that wasn't your fault. And it isn't on you that she didn't want to come with us."

Isuka liked Ace.

It's impossible not to like him.

Even when he was a brat with more anger at the world than he knew what to do with, you liked him. Thought he was the coolest person you'd ever met in your short 10 years of living and wanted him to like you back. You like him even now.

Everyone in the crew joined because they liked Ace the moment they met him. He's darling in how effortless he makes it.

Even a marine as firm in her beliefs as Isuka couldn't let prejudice cloud her judgement when it came to Portgas D. Ace. Begrudging as it may have been, there has always been a mutual admiration for each other in spite of the opposing occupations.

You're like the sun. Equal parts the harsh rays of summer and the gentle beams of early spring. He's whichever the moment calls for. A warmth everyone wants to experience if they're lucky enough to come across it. The gravitational pull of the universe that keeps the planets in the sun's orbit. You're amazing!

"I don't know what the hell that girl needs," rough as the sentence is, your voice is soft. "But whatever it is, she wasn't going to find it with us. That's why she didn't come."

Ace opens his mouth but you don't give him the chance to argue or sweep your concerns away.

"I'm not gonna sit here and lie to your face and say that this won't happen again," it's an ugly truth. One Ace became aware of long before you met him. Regardless, as much as you hate it, you know it'd be unfair to lie to him. "Because it probably will. There's always going to be people who, no matter how hard you reach for them, they aren't going to reach back. And you can't do jack about it.

Hell, sometimes you can't even do jill. But," Ace's brow furrows in time with your words and your heart wrenches. "But," you start once more, the back of your fingers brushing against his wrist. "for every person that won't, there's going to be someone that does." You cup one of Ace's hands in both of yours with all the care one would give glass.

When did these hands get so much bigger than your own?

Still, you lips curl upwards in your nostalgia, the warmth that radiates from him remains the same. You squeeze gently, almost afraid that if you touch him too hard, he'll break.

"And I know for a fact there are a lot of people who are always going to want to hold your hands. Even if the shit does turn into fire," you chuckle at your quick addendum and despite himself, Ace does too. You've always loved hearing him laugh, it's even better when you're the cause. "The crew. Dadan. Magra. Dogra. Luffy," you squeeze again, your thumb carressing the back of his hand. "Me. We love these hands, they're yours."

There's a spark of something in Ace's eyes you can't quite place and it's unexpectedly hard to look him in the eye for some reason. "Heh," you laugh breathlessly. Without meaning to, your grip tightens around his hand. It's warm.

Really warm.

Shit, it's actually getting kinda hot ain't it?

You see the flicker of orange and your and Ace's expressions are well-matched in panic as you realize the source. Sure enough, your hands were engulfed flames.

"Shit-" Ace swears but despite instinct dictating you back away from the flames, you find yourself holding on to staunchly.

"Shit-" you fight against Ace's attempt to pull away from you as the flames die down. "[First]! Let go!"

"No way, what did I just say?!" Oh god this hurts like hell! "I don't care if it's fire, I'm not letting go!"

You hiss through your teeth, reeling yourself in with a breath but the flames are extinguished as quickly as they erupted. "Wasn't exactly expecting to prove my point so fast but," there's another attempt on Ace's part to pull away from you again but you only hold his hand tighter. You can ignore the sting of your hands but you can't ignore the way Ace's eyebrows knit together. You can't ignore how he looks like he wants to cry either. "See," you laugh breathlessly. "I love these hands, there's no way I'm never gonna hold them.

Dark eyes, wide, look between you and your face and you squeeze his hand again. The sting of your palms is prevalent but this pain is fine. Pain is merely proof that you are alive in this moment; and in this moment there is nowhere else you want to be.

There's nothing more that needs to be said between you, you believe. Facing him, you lean against the wood as you hold Ace's hand firmly between your own. With the hand he has available, Ace slides his hat down to hide whatever expression he's making.

You close your eyes with a sigh and pretend you don't hear the sound of hiccuping. You don't feel the way his hand trembles either.

You squeeze Ace's hand and he squeezes back.

Your hands sting something sweet.

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Be Mine

Falling into bed with the handsome Sergeant hadn't been on your bingo card. Then again, falling in love with him certainly hadn't been either.

Pairing: Hunter x f!reader

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: unprotected PiV, a sprinkle of a praise kink, pet names, friends to lovers, a sprinkle of a scent kink, soft aftercare.

It had all happened so quickly.

One moment, you’d been stood at the back of the Marauder with Hunter discussing food rations and when the rest of the Batch would be back from their exploration.

The next, you were face down on a bottom bunk, naked from the waist down, with his rough hands hauling you backwards onto his cock. “That’s it, cyar’ika.” The smokey smoothness of Hunter’s voice cut through the sounds of your whimpers and skin meeting skin. “Wanted this for so long. You have no idea.” He grunted, tightening his grip on your hips. You’d have bruises shaped like his dexterous fingers tomorrow, a delicious reminder of this moment.

Hand flexing against the flimsy sheet, you vaguely registered that it was Echo’s bunk you were face down on. “Tell me.” You whined, gasping as a fluid roll of Hunter’s hips made his heavy balls slap against your clit.  

“Canto Blight.” Hunter gritted out, slowing his thrusts so he could languish in your warmth. He wanted this to last. Needed it to. “That blasted dress. I wanted to drag you back here, hike up the hem, and have you until dawn.” The memory lived rent-free in his mind. It had been your second mission with them, and the Sergeant had already found himself enamoured with you, so when you’d stepped out the fresher dressed to impress, he’d never been more grateful to be the only one able to hear his racing heart.

“Mhmmm. I still have the dress.” You purred, enjoying that he’d lusted after you for so long. Releasing the sheets, you reached a hand down to rub your clit, but Hunter pushed it away. You didn’t have time to let out a whine of frustration before he pulled all the way out of you, strong hands moving to grab your thighs so he could flip you over and pick you up, your legs and arms automatically wrapping around him.

“Next time. Oh, Maker, next time.” Hunter promised, capturing your lips in a fiery kiss as he moved you across to his bunk. He needed his sheets to smell like you – he wanted to bury himself in them later that night and bathe in your scent. The damn scent that had been driving him wild since you’d set foot on the Marauder many moons ago at Cid’s behest.

His roughness abated as he slowly settled you down on his bed, making sure you didn’t bang your head on the metal frame or hurt your back. It made your heart clench. Finding his eyes in the darkness of the ship, you watched as the fierce hunger from moments before dissipated, and a softness crept over the usually stoic man’s face. “Next time?” You questioned quietly, lifting a hand to run your fingers across his tattooed jawline as he settled above you, caging you in. His weight was comforting – solid and steadfast – but it was hard to miss the firm press of his erection.

“If you want?” Hunter’s hips started to move, pressing himself against you, eliciting a small mewl from your parted lips as he tried to play it cool. He could get drunk on your sounds, on the feel of your soft skin beneath his calloused fingers, of the warmth in your voice and the sweet ways you showed affection. He noticed every time you stole a glance his way, how you stepped forward to protect him when he was in danger, and that his clothes were always neatly folded on his bunk with a piece of his favourite candy on top after laundry day. He’d been sceptical when Cid had insisted you go along with them as another set of hands, but he couldn’t think of the ship anymore without your presence, your scent, or the sound of your laughter as you tormented his siblings.

“Oh, I want.” You agreed, exhaling shakily. The slip and slide of his cock through your folds was delicious but not enough. “Hunter. Need more. Need you.” You begged.

The hunger from early roared back into life, igniting Hunter’s blood. Pushing away the softer feelings to focus on later, he focused on your current situation. How he longed to bury his face between your thighs and eat you out, slide his fingers and cock into you, pull orgasm after orgasm from you, and fill you with his release. Spurred on by his thoughts, he wasted no time reaching down to align himself with your entrance, and in one steady push, he settled himself back inside of you, marvelling at the way your mouth opened in a silent gasp at the sensation.

Every nerve in your body was alight. Senses overwhelmed by the man on top of you. While Hunter was average in length, his girth led to the most delicious stretch as your body accommodated him. Feeling him fully sheathed inside of you was heavenly, and in your delight, you clenched around him, watching as his eyes screwed shut while his deep groan filled the air. “Keep doing that, and I won’t last long.” He warned, making you smile. It didn’t matter how long he lasted, so long as you both got to experience your highs – you couldn’t imagine how overwhelming it must be for him, with his heightened sense of touch, to feel you so thoroughly.

Leaning up to close the small distance, you captured Hunter’s lips in a kiss, your left hand reaching up to caress his face while the other slipped under the top half of his blacks, tracing every strong muscle you found.

Feeling less like he was going to blow his load any second, Hunter surrendered himself to your kiss and picked up the pace, snapping his hips against yours, driving himself into you over and over, relishing the sweet drag of your walls around his cock. Hunter felt light-headed; he could spend an eternity tangled up with you, which both thrilled and terrified him. Though the space was limited in his bunk, he shifted to rest all his weight on one hand, breaking your kiss while maintaining his thrusts. Sliding a hand between you both, he honed in on his target. You wouldn’t go without. He’d make damn sure of it.

Fingers finding purchase on your clit, he spent a moment figuring out what you liked, vision and hearing focused on the myriad of expressions that crossed your features and the sounds slipping from your lips. It only took a few tries before he had you whimpering, his grin of satisfaction blinding, only ceasing as you stretched up to capture his lips in a heated kiss once more.

“Fuck, Hunter.” You panted, breaking the kiss as your back arched. He was relentless, sure and steady fingers circling your clit with the perfect amount of pressure, and you drew a low moan from the exquisite man above you as you tightened around him. The familiar tension was starting, seeping through your body and overwhelming you.

Enraptured as he watched you chase your release, Hunter slowed his pace and angled his hips, grinning at the sound of your gasp. The way his name sounded tumbling from your lips was simultaneously heavenly and sinful – either way, he couldn’t get enough. “That’s it, cyare. I want to see you fall apart. Can you be a good girl and do that for me?” He whispered, testing the waters. You always responded well to his praise while out on jobs.

It was all too much. The weight of Hunter above you, the sweet drag of his cock in you as he kept hitting that perfect spot with each thrust, and the sound of his deep voice in your ears. You wanted to please him. Wanted to fall apart at his behest. Wanted to be a good girl. Hands scrambling against the sheets for purchase, you bit down on your lower lip. You were close. So close. The tension in your body was almost unbearable, your pussy clamping down on him, making every push and pull feel even more exquisite. Hunter gave a few quick circles on your clit, and your body tingled, the tension snapping as you cried out. You trembled through the waves of your orgasm, the pleasure overwhelming and all-encompassing.

Pulling in a shaky breath, you meet the hungry gaze of the man above you.

“Where?” He asked once he was sure you were back with him. He was close. So close. You’d tightened around him, gripping him like your life depended on it. You could make or break him, and he’d thank you either way.

Releasing the sheets, you grasped at Hunter’s shoulders, giving yourself some leverage as you met his thrusts with each rock of your hips. “Inside.” You insisted.

That was it. You would be the death of him. And he would gladly go down with the ship. His lips met yours, and with one final, sharp thrust, he grunted, letting go. Thighs quivering as he crested over the edge, he spilled himself deep inside you.

Neither of you spoke for a second, trying to catch your breath as you came down from your highs. Resting your foreheads together, eyes closed, you relished the closeness, basking in the afterglow. “Mesh’la…” Hunter’s low voice broke the silence as he moved to nuzzle his nose against your neck, inhaling deeply.

Everything stilled as he breathed you in, focusing on the thud of your heart as its pace slowed to your resting rate. It brought him a great deal of comfort in an increasingly shifting galaxy. He hadn’t meant for your first time together to be like this, hadn’t dared to dream it would ever happen if he were being honest with himself, but he didn’t regret a second of it.

“We should’ve done that sooner.” You whispered, feeling more in control of your racing heart. Hunter’s warm breath fanned against your neck as he chuckled, the deep rumble stoking the warmth in your heart.

You stayed that way for a while before shifting into a more comfortable position, Hunter’s head resting on your chest. Basking in each other’s warmth, you relished the quiet moment of peace; the only sounds were your soft breaths and Hunter’s light hums of appreciation as you scritched his scalp, running your fingers through his mop of brown hair.

“Be mine?” Hunter asked suddenly, shifting to prop himself up so he could gaze down at you, committing the sight of you in his bunk, smelling like him and sex, to memory. “I'd...” He pauses, gaze flittered away momentarily. "I'd like there to be an us." The admission made him feel strangely vulnerable. He hadn’t meant to be so blunt, but he didn’t want to hold back anymore.

This time, you dragged your fingers across the uninked planes of his handsome face. “As long as you’re mine in return.” Your words had his gaze snapping back to you, hope sparking in his eyes as his lips curled into a smile.

[storminormins]

My thoughts on CX-2 (or Scuttlebug, as his name shall remain forever in my mind) in light of the finale.

Only good things though!

I know the Tech girlies are all in mourning, I feel you, but I do want to analyze Scuttlebug further now that we know he isn't Tech.

Because they did spend a lot of time focusing on him; so why?

This recent interview with Jen and Brad confirmed my own theories (it's also a good fun read for picking their brains over making this show we all love)

CX-2 is Crosshair's narrative foil.

I noticed how when CX-2 is shown, its usually right before or after Crosshair is shown- or Crosshair is the one to sense/pay attention to him.

Anytime CX-2 goes up against the Batch, it almost always turns into a 1v1 between CX-2 and Crosshair- the sniper duel on the staircase, the knife fight in the river (of course), and Crosshair missing the shot to tag his ship after the Pabu invasion. (and the hand thing. oof.)

He's the intrusive thoughts breathing down Crosshair's neck [You chose the wrong side]. His personal failures made physical. What Crosshair could have been if he'd just made a slight few different choices.

Essentially, in Extraction, Crosshair fought his shadow self and... well, he didn't lose, but he didn't quite win either.

Because he doesn't think he really is different from CX-2. He believes he deserves worse for everything he's done- as he says in The Cavalry has Arrived.

And this is why it's so important that Hunter is the one to kill CX-2, AND right after Crosshair knocks CX-2's DIRECT KILLSHOT at Hunter off course.

(Gif credit here)

Hunter kills the shadow, kills the idea that Crosshair has anything left to atone for. Crosshair is his brother, and he's taking him home.

[anthurak]

One of the funny things I’ve recently realized after browsing old TOH posts is that the whole idea of the ‘Luz and Hunter are siblings’ dynamic feels like almost entirely a creation of the fandom. Not only that, but a dynamic that was created basically by accident.

Consider for a moment just when and WHY fans actually started the ‘Luz and Hunter are siblings’ idea: It wasn’t in the wake of King’s Tide or after Hollow Mind when Luz and Hunter start really becoming friends, it was following Hunting Palismans. AKA, the episode where the mysterious ‘Golden Guard’ is revealed to be the show’s resident ‘edgy bad-boy with a sad backstory’ named Hunter, and also established that despite what he may think at the time, him and Luz are definitely going to be friends sooner or later.

In other words, the fandom’s idea that ‘Luz and Hunter are siblings’ started mainly as pushback against shipping those two and more notably, any theories/claims that Luz and Hunter might end up together in the show. As in, right after Hunting Palismans released, you can find a ton of posts that amount to ‘THEY’RE LIKE SIBLINGS DAMMIT!’ as fans try to get ahead of any ideas people might start getting that Luz and Hunter might be some endgame couple.

Now of course, in should have been pretty clear even when Hunting Palismans released that ‘Lunter’ was NEVER going to be an actual thing in the show. Like I’ve always commended the foresight of Dana Terrace and her crew for making sure that Amity was FIRMLY locked-in as Luz’s love-interest before they let Luz anywhere near the show’s resident ‘edgy bad-boi with a sad backstory in need of a redemption-arc’.

But for me, the funny this looking back on all this in hindsight; this presenting that Luz and Hunter are going to be like siblings as pushback against any theories that they were going to end up together romantically nonetheless made the same underlying assumption about where Hunter’s character was going: 

That he’d end up being this super-close friend and ally to Luz and that she’d be the one facilitating his redemption arc, ala Aang to Zuko or any other case of ‘hero(ine) redeems rival and they become best friends’.

And of course what makes that so funny is the fact that this DIDN’T actually happen, at least not in the way most of us were expecting. Yes, Hunter did end up being A close friend and ally to Luz, but the people who he’s actually closest to and the one who really drove and facilitated his redemption arc wound up being Willow and Gus!

In conclusion, the whole idea of ‘Luz and Hunter are siblings’ dynamic feels like one of those cases of a fandom coming up with an assumption about where characters might be going, and then forgetting that they were the ones who originally came up with it while the show itself does something else.

And also, Hunter is WAY more of an older brother to GUS than he is to Luz, and frankly I think we need more recognition of that fact XD

[kaleidescope-writes]

"So that's where you are..."

Din Djarin x reader

18+, Minors DNI

Tags: Established relationship, swearing, protective!Din, No use of Y/N, no mention of the show's plot, mention of violence, Din's sexy ass voice, year long wait

Pretty sure I missed something, if I did lemme know!

Should I make a part 2?

You knew this was a bad idea. You knew this wasn't going to end well. But you were too far in to stop now. You'd been traveling with the infamous Mandalorian for months, looking for jobs and trying to keep the little green monster safe. It's been rough for the three of you, especially since many of the available jobs would compromise the three of you and put Grogu in inescapable harm. "There are more jobs out there, safer jobs." Din would say. But none of them would pay half as much as those he deemed "too risky." Not only that, they were scarce throughout the Galaxy. Every planet you landed on only had a few jobs Din was willing to take.

It was funny to you. Before Grogu came along, the last thing on his mind when taking a job was whether it was too dangerous. You'd often have to scold him for caring so little about his own safety, claiming he had no sense of self-preservation. Grogu changed that. Grogu was his wake-up call. Now he cares more about the safety of all three of you than how many credits the job offered. You were struggling to buy provisions and keep the Razor Crest in good shape. Peli was a big help, giving you a discounted price on repairs, but it still wasn't enough sometimes. Sometimes you had to scrape the bottom of the barrel just to have enough rations to make it to the next job. Despite wanting to stay optimistic, you knew you couldn't keep this up, it wasn't practical. You had a few conversations with Din about your concerns, but he kept reassuring you that it was fine. "Yours and Grogu's safety is what matters the most. We'll find other jobs, but I can't let anything happen to either of you." But that wasn't enough to make your worries dissipate. You still didn't have enough credits to buy the supplies you desperately needed.

That's what brought you here. You told Din that you were going into the next town over to try to find cheaper supplies for your travels while he took the next job. You hated having to lie to him, but it was getting harder to get by. The last time you visited Peli, you bargained asked for a favor. You asked her to send one of the droid-piloted ships in her possession to the next planet you were headed to, in exchange for a portion of the credits you'd get. You then had it take you to a different planet in the solar system, one you knew you could find one of the jobs Din refused to take. So here you were, waiting in an isolated corner of one of the grime-filled, crowded bars that bounty hunters frequented. You were looking for the zabrak that had offered Din the job a few days prior. He'd said that it was about killing a mercenary that had double crossed him a few months back. They weren't exactly well-known, but they'd made enough of a name for themselves in the underground for other hunters to stay away. Din said he could've taken care of it, but the only thing that stopped his was the very thing you were tired of hearing about. You knew you could handle it. Din had trained you well enough to take a job like this yourself, but he never really gave you the chance to prove it. You didn't need to. He would always be there to make sure you didn't. But now you had to.

A chirping noise coming from your belt pulled you out of your thoughts. Pulling out your holoprojector, you started to feel uneasy. You'd been gone for hours, he definitely noticed by now. As reluctant as you were, you knew that if you didn't respond, he would be absolutely mad with worry. Despite trying to get the job done as secretively as possible, you knew that worrying him would make it harder for him to understand why you decided to ignore his wishes for you to stay safe and stay near him. You knew you had to answer. The moment the hologram took the form of his helmet, the pressure in your stomach became harder to ignore. "Where are you?" His deep, modulated voice asked. You debated continuing the lie you previously used to leave his side, but the way he tilted his head towards you served as a warning against it. "I came looking for another job," you replied bluntly, "We need more than a few credits to get by this time." A deep exhale sounded through the hologram, he was upset. "You weren't in the next town over, I looked for you in every shit hole bar I could find. Where are you?" he asked more sternly He knew you'd gone farther than that, there was no doubt in his mind. That didn't deter you from accomplishing your original purpose here. You needed the supplies. That was something even he couldn't deny anymore. "Looking for another job," you repeated, knowing he wasn't going to stop asking, "I'll go back when I'm done, I just need you to be patient."

"Cyar'ika, tell me where you are. I'll pick you up and we can find a job together," Din tried, his voice easing up a bit as he spoke. Your stomach churned more, preparing another avoidant response. "Ah, there you are!" A very distinct familiar voice called over the noise of the crowd of drunkards, "You changed your mind then? You'll take the job?" Approaching your secluded corner of the bar, the zabrak you were looking for announced his presence out enough to be heard by your concerned lover. You felt your heart drop to your knees, knowing damn well Din would recognize the shrill, raspy voice of the man that had previously offered him the job. You turned your attention back to the holoprojector in your hand, attempting to end the projection before he'd fully realize where you were. But you weren't fast enough, as a deep hum resounded from his image followed by a sentence that would upturn your anxiety.

"So that's where you are."

*********************************************

A/N: Heyo! I know it's been almost a year since I posted the preview, sorry for the delay. Also, I meant to make this longer, but I figured if anyone wants to read more I can make a part 2. Love you guys, stay safe, stay proud, stay strong! 💖

Also, if my irl friends find this, not you fucking didn't 🫵😠

[gars-weaponeer]

The Bullied Bad Batch?

Here comes a controversial take...

But It kind of always rubbed me the wrong way to see the first episode of the bad batch and have this narrative that they have always been bullied by the other clones for being different, like some sort of Star wars Loosers club.

It really doesn't makes sense to me. Specially comparing them to their episodes in the Clone Wars.

For starters: Sure, they are called "defective clones"... but are they really? Nothing about their mutations gives them an actual defect or a weakness. The closest we have is Tech's intelligence being so great he is way to logical about everything and lacks in social interactions.

But other than that the fact that Hunter's heightened senses overwhelm him sometimes, or that Crosshair's eyes are sensitive to bright lights, or that Wrecker's Muscles are in constant pain are all fandom made.

They were not just "born defective" like 99 and the Kaminoans decided to let them out into the world see what happened. They presented "some" mutations and the Kaminoans enhanced said mutations to make them perfect soldiers.

They are an an experimental group sure, but they were treated as a clone comando squad, an elite group.

I find it very hard to believe that an "elite group" would be bullied for being "different". It's like saying the Delta Squad was bullied by the other ct troopers.

Not to mention, their actitudes in their clone wars episodes are more akin to bullies. They are arrogant, They pick up fights with the other clones, They undermined the other clone's thoughts, ideas and even abilities. They don't follow orders and do things their own unorthodox way. Hell! even the "Reg" name they give regular clones sounds almost like an insult or a slur.

So why did we suddenly pass from: "They are just Regs, they cannot compare with us" to "The regs are calling us names, we have no friends in the school cafeteria." ???

-But Weaponeer! - I hear you say - They are called the Bad Batch because they were born defective.

And to that I say, NO. They are called "Clone force 99" because they were born with mutations (like 99). They call themselves "The Bad Batch" because they are a group of edgy, rebellious, younger clones that are aware they are different from the rest.

Let's not forget that deleted scene where we learn the Bad Batch had some nose art of a sexy Padme. That reads: "Born to be Bad."

Just so you can understand their actual energy.

That said, I think the writers should have kept the Bully Bad Batch on their series. At least on the first episode, when they are still in the GAR.

IMAGEN THIS:

The Bad Batch is an experimental group that is very important for the Kaminoans. So much so that they are given preferential treatment over regular clones, even comando clones.

They have their own personal barracks, They have their own ship that is theirs, They are allowed to do as they wish during missions since Kaminoans want to test them and record their evolution.

The Bad Batch know they are the Kaminoan's favorites, so does the regular clones and they hate it.

To regular clones it feels unfair. They are the ones that run into the battlefield and fight endless hoards of droids daily just to have this bunch of reckless clones rush in, do whatever they want, explode something and receive all the praise.

Not to mention that The Bad Batch is not nice about it either, they are arrogant, they boast, they call the other clones "regs" and compare their superior abilities to the rest constantly, almost like they forget they are clones too.

Worst part is, the Regs can't really do anything about it. Pick up fights with them always ends up badly. Wrecker is strong enough to send any reg to the med bay with one punch, Hunter can always anticipate punches and Crosshair has excellent aim when throwing the cafeteria trays.

The only one there that does not condone the behavior of his peers is Echo. Despite being a Reg he was accepted by the Bad Batch thanks to his unusual appearance and skills, but Echo is constantly trying to stop them from being mean to his other brothers. Not that it does much as the Bad Batch still see Echo as the "newbie" despite him being an ARC trooper.

But they are not bad people, they do have a sense of duty and honor like any other clone and they wouldn't really cause real harm to an ally. They see Omega and treat her with care, after all she is a young girl and they are not animals. They see the "insurgents" they were sent to kill and of course they cannot do that! Killing innocents? that's not what they do!

When they rebel from the Empire and go AWOL their whole world comes crashing down.

They no longer have the protection of the Kaminoans, they are no longer the favorite clones, now they are the traitors, hunted down not only by the whole empire but by one of their own.

This sudden change would make the batch wake up and turn from unruly teens to mature adults.

Hunter now has to be the mature leader and guide his team to safety in a harsh galaxy that keeps getting more and more dangerous. He has to be more careful, to a point that he is almost afraid of taking risks, specially since he has Omega to worry about. It would give him some character arc in which he passes from being carefree, to overly cautious, to learning to balance both.

Tech would learn that even though he has all the theory, he doesn't have all the practice. Nothing is as easy as just saying it, and things that he used to take for granted are now being mayor issues.

Echo's knowledge of the galaxy and skill would be more useful to his peers, but his tendency to distrust causes him problems in the long run. Not to mention he would still not be happy about sitting down doing nothing while his brothers are suffering at the hands of the Empire.

While Wrecker is having the hardest time adapting to their new life, being the more immature of the bunch. He learns that he cannot be as reckless as he has always been during their time in the GAR, specially when they have Omega to worry about.

That's Right people! MORE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! I think it would have been interesting to see that sort of dynamic.

┕━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

Then Again, these are just my thoughts. You are welcome to agree, add your own thoughts or just ignore them if they are not your cup of tea.

If you reached all the way down here thank you for reading ♥

And may the force be with you.

[kindasleepywriter]

The way to a droid's heart (Cal Kestis x BountyHunter!Reader)

Based on this wonderful request. Always open to hearing more ideas!

Summary: Cal demonstrates what happens to those who mess with you. Warnings: Implied and explicit threats, that's about it Word count: 2.9k

In all the years you’d known him, you’d never understood how Cal Kestis was still alive. When you had met him 6 years ago, you’d been just as idealistic and adventure-seeking as he was. The years that followed, however, had changed you and shaped you for survival. Dreams didn’t get you very far, not in the galaxy like this one.

You’d quickly lost hope of ever becoming a fighter pilot when you’d realized the few rebel cells were dropping like flies, all at the Empire’s hand. One lone pilot wouldn’t make a difference out there, you’d concluded, and from that moment you’d just tried not to end up as space rubble like your parents. You’d ended up as a bounty hunter instead, a damned-good one, and you took what joy you could while chasing bounties all over space.

Cal, on the other hand, never seemed to lose his ambition of defeating the Empire. Not that he’d ever told you that’s what he was doing, of course, but only a space slug could’ve been so blind as to not see it. He wasn’t exactly being subtle, making no effort to conceal the weapon at his side and giving his real name to anyone who might have asked. His ever-growing collection of scars didn’t portray him as a man who sat around waiting for change, either.

Perhaps you’d ask about them, one day.

--

You watched from the far end of a bar you’d never tried learning the name of, as a stoned-faced Pantoran you didn’t recognize spoke with Cal. You couldn’t quite hear their conversation but, with the way BD-1 had whizzed in boredom for a good 10 minutes before scurrying off to scan whatever he could find, you could deduce they weren’t exactly talking about their latest game of holo-chess.

You turned back to your drink, flipping up your hood and shaking your head softly at the man’s persistence. On the move, as always.

You were starting to come to terms with the fact that your contact wouldn’t be showing up. You’d already sighed watching your watch more times than you could count, annoyed at the inconvenience of flying so far into the outer rim for nothing. It had been a pain negotiating your meeting too, the contact insisting on you being alone with no weapons. You’d eventually faked giving in, choosing to keep your rifle and pistol on board your currently broken down S40K and instead hiding vibro-blades inside your boots.

The ship was already on its last legs when you got it, the only reason why you’d been able to pay, but the years had caught up with it in the last two months. You spent almost all of your money on maintaining it in the air, and you were running out of funds fast.  The anticipated need to buy another cheap but more reliable hunk of metal was what had caused you to pick up another bounty only a few days after your last.

Normally, you liked to spread out jobs over a few weeks to enjoy the credits you made, but the sputtering of your engines when you’d crash landed into this city’s landing dock had made clear you couldn’t afford the luxury this time.

You were nearing the bottom of your drink, trying to plan a way off this planet without mounting any more personal debts to anyone, when you felt a small nudge at your right foot. You looked down, expecting to see some rodent or pest trying to eat through your sole, but were instead met with a little red and white hyperactive droid.

You scanned the room quickly to make sure no one was looking, and stretched a hand in his direction so he could haul himself up onto the cushioned booth. He didn’t hesitate to scramble up your arm, emitting a few whizzes and beeps of thanks on the way.

“Hey, beedee,” you greeted him flatly. “Thought I finally managed to evade your scans this time; guess I was wrong.”

A low whistle and a trill.

“I know, I know, you see everything. It’s hard to forget when you always choose to remind me at least twenty times every time you find me.”

He emitted a series of approving noises, and you rolled your eyes at his cockiness. Where he’d gotten that attitude wasn’t a great mystery. He jumped on one foot, nudging at your coat’s pockets with the other, his eyes going in and out of focus audibly as he searched for god-knows-what.

You tsked. “Will you stop that!” you chided and swatted him away like you would a cat. “Yes, I brought you something from my last job, stop assaulting me for a minute and let me find the damn thing. And you better not tell your dad, I’m not letting him think I’m a softie just because I keep entertaining your crow tendencies.”

Suddenly the picture of good manners, the droid sat and wiggled his legs as he sent you a sweet melody. Manipulative little shit, you thought affectionately. He was annoying as could be, but the little guy was cute.

You fished out a shiny piece of silver metal from your breast pocket. You had made sure not to lose the small leaf-shaped brooch, the perfect gift for BD-1. Your last bounty had necessitated infiltrating an Imperial event, and you’d found the piece while snooping through an officer’s desk. You’d never been so happy to have preemptively messed with the camera feeds.

The droid whistled in excitement and bathed your hand in a green light. You tried and failed to fight the smile that braced your lips as you watched him dance around your palm. He scanned the object from every angle he could find.

Too focused on his reaction, you failed to notice the individual looking over your shoulder until his shadow dimmed the wall you were facing. Too late to react properly, you shut your hand as quick as you could and turned to look at the man. Kin Fobam. Another bounty hunter, a Pau’an, one that always found a new way to piss you off. Today would apparently be no exception. BD beeped in annoyance at your movement before noticing you had company.

“Well, well. It would seem our little bounty hunter has a penchant for jewels after all.” the man sneered at you.

You rolled your eyes and did your best not to flinch at the lack of personal space, his two-meter height trapping you without much breathing room. You could smell the alcohol he had consumed, but you didn’t need it to know he was intoxicated. At this time of night, he always was. You were already almost pressed to the wall of your booth with only enough space to keep BD behind you, so you stood your ground and straightened up as best you could. You kept the droid in place as he spat angry threats at Kin, unwilling to let him make the situation worse.

“Kin, don’t you know women love shiny things?” you mocked with an arched brow, “Maybe if you’d known that earlier, that lovely Iridonian wouldn’t have spat at you again for your advances last week. How’s your attempt at courting her going, by the way?”

You subtly held the metal pin in pinched fingers behind your back as his white face somehow turned even paler in anger, desperately hoping BD-1 would understand what you were trying to tell him. You almost sighed in relief when you felt him swiftly slide it out of your hands into his stim container.

Kin moved even closer to you, forcing you to lean over BD in a desperate attempt to gain some personal space. Your free hand instinctively reached for your hip but only found the weathered leather of your empty holster. Shit, you’d left your guns on the ship! You didn’t have the space to reach for your blades either, so you had no choice but to do it the old way.

You tensed, ready to headbutt the towering Pau’an out of your space, but you stilled when you felt cold metal brush against your skin in the small gap where your shirt and pants met. A blaster. Fuck. This is why you never left without a firearm.

“I wonder, if that piece of metal is worth so much to someone like you,” he growled, “then maybe you’d accept payment in other forms… as thanks for sparing your life today, hm?”

You cringed at the implication of his words but took a steadying breath. You’d insulted this guy in more ways than you could count over the years and you knew he could pull that trigger without a second thought, but you’d fought bounties that were bigger, angrier, and certainly more skilled. He wasn’t the first to try and extort sexual favors from you, nor would he be the last.

Your brain spun in circles, trying to come up with a plan that didn’t involve blaster fire passing through your right kidney and BD-1 in one fell swoop. You didn’t have to think for long, though.

Before you could make a move, a blinding orange light flashed between you and Kin, floating just underneath his chin. You could feel the heat from where you were, could imagine the pain its power wielded. The way the man’s white flesh turned pink at its proximity didn’t go unnoticed.

“How about I gift her with the loss of your life as an apology for letting her endure your dirty ass, Kin?” a smooth voice drawled, the speaker invisible to you with your still-focusing eyes, but you didn’t need to see him to know who it was. As if the lightsaber wasn’t already enough to identify him, but you’d know that voice anywhere too. You weren’t the only one, if the cheering beeps you heard behind you were any indications.

A smirk braced your features as the Pau’an gritted his sharp teeth, hesitating a second before raising his hands in a defeated manner. He demonstratively holstered his pistol to make sure his head wasn’t cut off at the movement and he slowly stepped back a few feet away. The lightsaber didn’t stray a single millimeter from him. His brows pinched in anger, and he looked expectantly towards you. “It was just a little bit of fun, right?” he said as he hissed in pain. “Nothing to get upset about.”

You chuckled at the attempt. “I don’t know, I’m thinking your head on a platter sounds pretty great right about now. Maybe I can find someone out here who’d enjoy some barbecued Pau’an. What do you think, Cal?”

Your heart skipped a beat when your gaze met amused grey eyes over Kin’s hunched shoulders. He winked at you, and you couldn’t help but bite your lower lip.

“I’m pretty sure that violates too many health codes,” he said, “you know, quality standards and such.”

BD whistled in agreement, scampering up onto your back and nudging the side of your head when you got up to lean against the side of your table.

“Too bad,” you sighed, crossing your arms, “maybe it could’ve bought me some new earrings.”

Cal laughed loudly, warmth spreading through your chest at the lovely sound before he closed a hand on the sweaty neck before him and brought his blade even closer to his chin. “The next time you even come within 20 feet of her,” he stated casually, loudly enough for the entire bar to hear and turn the heads of the few who weren’t already watching, “you won’t live long enough to say ‘womp rat’. Are we clear?”

Well, if your heart hadn’t been beating fast before, it sure was now. Never had a threat sounded so attractive before. You diverted your gaze. Get a grip, you reprimanded yourself.

BD-1 only encouraged him, a crackling sound buzzing entirely too close to your ear for your liking. When did he get a taser? You didn’t even want to know what he used it for, finding trouble with his new gadgets was a special talent of his.

Kin, now wide eyed, muttered an affirmative and a long line of fearful apologies, eager to escape the Jedi. Cal flicked off his saber and forcefully shoved him away. The Pau’an bolted out the door of the bar, running for his life, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his fear. BD reprimanded Cal for acting so late, beeps and squeals echoing through the room after the patrons returned to their usual business, but the red-haired man was only focused on you. Your skin heated at the attention.

“I could’ve dealt with him myself.”

He gave you a wide smile and stepped closer, no Pau’an separating you anymore. “Oh, I know. Wasn’t this much more fun though?”

The corner of your lips twitched, and you shrugged, softly shaking your head at his ever-lasting upbeat attitude. You uncrossed your arms, placing them behind you on the rusty table to comfortably lean back. “Still could’ve knocked him out faster without alerting every possible person of a Jedi’s presence here.”

“Give me a break,” he said almost sheepishly, reaching up a hand to scratch the back of his neck, “is a guy not allowed to show off to a pretty girl every once in a while?”

Your breath hitched on a single breath, caught off-guard. Sure, the two of you joked around all the time, but he’d never gone so far as to straight up flirt with you. You tried not to react, probably failing miserably at doing so.

“Smooth.”

He threw his head back in laughter, his reddened freckled cheeks showing more embarrassment that he let on. “I try.”

“Next time,” you said, striding past him, “if you really want to show off, perhaps you shouldn’t wait until there’s a blaster pointed at me before making your move.”  You had no idea how you kept your voice steady, and you couldn’t help but hear the rare softness of it. You were thankful that he couldn’t see how wide of a smile you currently wore.

He jogged to catch up, keeping pace with you as you headed for the docking bay. “I’ll keep that in mind” he chuckled.

You glanced back at the bar over your shoulder, and BD started emitting alarm noises from your other side, indignant at still being ignored. You patted his head, quieting him for a moment. “Where did your informant go?” you asked Cal. “Wouldn’t want to hinder your next side quest.”

“That was anything but a quest,” he said, “Just a boring old trade. Wouldn’t be so boring if you were there, though.”

A loud whistle of approval sounded above your shoulder.

“Hey, calm it, up there!” you exclaimed, using another opportunity to escape from answering. “I’ve only got two eardrums, let’s not break one of them.”

BD whistled again at a lower volume, followed by a barely audible series of sounds.

“Yeah, weak organics my ass,” you muttered. “We’ll talk about how great being a droid is the next time you bend your antennas and come running to me.”

Cal’s soft laugh caught your attention once more. He was watching you both with such a fond smile... Your heart squeezed at how soft he looked, for once not rushing towards something and instead enjoying the moment.

As you neared your ship, small tendrils of smoke still escaping the upper vents, he looked at his watch when it suddenly started beeping, and he made a face. “I’d love to hear the rest of your arguing, but we have to go. A revolution doesn’t fund itself.” he said. He looked up at the droid sitting on your shoulders. “Yes, beedee, that means you. Hop on.”

Cal held out an arm, BD begrudgingly taking his usual spot on his shoulders, spitting menacing sparks at the jedi along the way. The latter looked towards you with a flicker of hope as he stepped backwards towards the back of the hangar where the Mantis stood. “Can I convince you to join me this time? Still got an extra bunk if you want.”

“I don’t think you want me and beedee on the same ship 24/7, Cal. Anyways, I’ve told you before, I can’t just discard my old one.”

He stared at your smoking Hawk-Class before he turned to you unimpressed. “That thing can’t even fly.”

“It can! I just need to fix the cooling mechanism and-”

“And the hull, the reactors, the hyperdrive, the-” he continued, amused at your stubbornness.

“Okay, okay,” you scoffed, “you’ve made your point. Might as well drop it here, I guess. I could hitch a ride, if you’re heading towards the inner rim, but I’ve got approximately nothing to give in payment for the fuel.”

BD startled you with a burst of binary, so fast you couldn’t hear him. Cal looked at you sharply.

“You’ve been giftinghim things?” he exclaimed.

“You utter snitch, beedee!”

The droid whistled at you disapprovingly and loudly shot the brooch from his stim compartment right into Cal’s hands.

“I can’t believe you,” you continued, “the one thing I told you-”

You fell right back into your argument with the droid.

Cal tilted his head back in loud laughter and threw an arm around your shoulders as you whisper-yelled at BD-1, leading you towards the Mantis. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

Getting side-tracked by BD1? In my supposedly Cal-centered fic? It's more likely than you think.

This was pre-realtionship like my last Cal fic because tbh i have trouble setting up the change from friends to lovers without writing a whole novel, but I have some ideas roaming around my head I'd like to write. We'll see how that turns out!

Tell me what you think, and check out my masterlist!

[vodika-vibes]

Hello Vod'ika, congrats for your followers!!

If possible (in advance sorry for my English) I wanted to ask you a Crosshair x Jedi!Reader (angst with happy ending from Cross view?) in a soulmate au (you can't hurt your soulmate kind of au) where chipped!Crosshair supposelly killed reader (then much much later he founds her again, maybe fallen-scarred or something but not heartshoted dead) (they where crushing each other but tightliped/proud/nothing officially stated)

Noble Maiden Fair

Summary: She was his. And He was hers. They were both just too proud to admit it, even to each other. When the order came out, Crosshair shot her. A blaster blot between her eyes. She fell. She died. Crosshair handled the guilt by staying on the move, by not thinking about it, about her. And then he murders an Imperial Officer and his only option is to run, not to his brothers, who abandoned him, but somewhere else.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: 1849

Prompt: Soulmate AU - Soulmates can't hurt each other

Warnings: Some angst

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thanks! And thank you for your request! I've been bouncing between ideas on this one, and I finally had one that I liked, so I hope you like it too!

“Welcome!” Crosshair frowns at the large Trandoshan man standing just off the landing bay, “It’s been quite some time since we’ve gotten a visitor! Are you the person bringing the seed delivery?”

“Aa, that’s me,” Crosshair replies as he straightens from where he’s checking that his cargo is still in one piece. Honestly, the demotion from soldier to delivery boy annoys him to no end, but it’s better than the alternative. “You’d be the mayor then?”

“Oh, no. Not me.” The Trandoshan says with a laugh, “We’re a bit too small of a community for someone like that. I’m Grrog.”

“I…see.” He doesn’t, not really. But NatBorns have always been weird, “Anyway, where do you want the stuff?”

Grrog gestures to a flat cart near the door, “We’re going to have to make a couple of trips! I hope you’re not on a time crunch.”

Crosshair sighs, “You don’t have any droids?”

“Oh no! Awful things, droids.”

“Of course.” He rips off his work gloves and throws them inside the ship, “I guess we’d better get to work then.”

The Trandoshan looks thrilled and almost bounces over one of the massive pallets of seeds. “Look at it all! Ooh, the farmers will be thrilled!”

“I don’t just have crop seeds. There are also some seedlings for fruit trees. They’re still inside since they’re a bit more delicate.” Crosshair replies as he walks over to the cart and moves it closer to the pallet.

“Perfect! There’s always room for more seedlings!”

“You really are all about this life, aren’t you?” He asks. 

“Oh, yeah. Most of my people are hunters, but, well,” Grrog gestures to himself, and his wide girth, “I’m not made for hunting.” He jokes, “Fruits and Veggies don’t run away at least.”

“Well, there is that.”

“We have a population of a couple hundred people, from all walks of life. We don’t get many new people, though.” 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. People don’t want to be farmers, y’know.” Grrog hoists a couple of bags over to the cart, and then straightens with a groan, “The AgriCorps used to run everything here, but they were wiped out to the last.”

“That right?”

“They were Jedi, you know.” He shakes his head, “Could work miracles with dying planets. Such a shame.”

Crosshair doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say. 

But, for half a second, he sees her. He sees her smile and the way her eyes crinkle when she’s happy. He hears her laugh; loud and bright and unashamed. 

His jaw clenches, and he roughly shoves the memory of her away. He doesn’t want to remember her…or the look of confused disbelief when he shot her. Or the way his name fell from her lips as she fell into the ravine.

Still, even though he doesn’t want to remember, it doesn’t make the ache in his chest go away. Or the guilt that threatens to strangle him. 

“You alright?”

Crosshair is ripped from his guilt at the concern in Grrog’s voice, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He nods, “Sometimes when I think about the Jedi, the grief threatens to overwhelm me too.” He confides, “You’re not alone there, friend.”

“I’m fine.” Crosshair repeats, “Where am I taking this cart?”

Grrog gazes at him thoughtfully, “It took me a long time to come to terms with the fact that it’s okay to not be okay, friend.”

Crosshair sighs, “You are incredibly nosy.”

“My wife says that it’s my best feature.”

“I don’t like talking about it. Where am I bringing the cart?” Crosshair bites out.

“Alright, alright. There’s a general store. It’s called General Store.” Grrog says, “The employees there know what to do when you deliver it.”

Crosshair stares at him blankly.

“Ah, right! You’ll go through the spaceport, follow the road until you reach the fountain, and then turn left. The General Store is the first shop on the right. If you see the greenhouses, you’ve gone too far.”

“Alright.” Crosshair pushes the cart through the spaceport, easily side-stepping people. Not that there are many people for him to side-step. Honestly, he’s surprised that this place is big enough to have a spaceport. 

But, then again, they probably sell the excess fruit and vegetables to other planets. 

He pushes the carts through the open doors and stops.

The planet is very green. He should have expected it, it is a farming planet after all. But, for some reason, he wasn’t expecting it to be this green.

For a moment, time slips, and he can hear his kitten’s voice.

“I think, after the war, I’d like to retire.” His kitten says as she absently braids a strand of her hair, her voice soft and thoughtful, little more than a murmur to not wake his brothers.

“Retire?” Crosshair asks, his voice just as quiet, “And what does a Jedi do when they retire?”

She laughs, dropping her braid and resting her chin on the palm of her hand, her eyes glitter with an emotion that Crosshair doesn’t dare name, because naming it would mean that he has to acknowledge it.

“Maybe I’ll become a farmer, move someplace green and alive.”

“You’ll be bored in a week.”

“I think we deserve a little boredom, don’t you?” Her smile is warm and soft, and Crosshair thinks, for a moment, that he would burn the galaxy if it meant that she’d never stop looking at him like that.

With great difficulty, he pushes the memory away.

As much as he’d give anything to go back to that night, with her smiling at him like he hung the stars in the sky for her and her alone. He can’t. 

His kitten is dead.

He killed her.

And the Galaxy is a much darker, and lonelier, place for her absence. 

Crosshair heaves out a sigh and grabs the cart again. He’s not going to stay here. He can’t stay here. All he has to do is deliver the seeds and seedlings, and then he can go somewhere else.

Maybe he’ll move to a desert planet. No green at all.

Not that it’ll help. After all, it won’t change anything. 

He still killed his soulmate.

There’s no coming back from that.

Several hours later, all of the seeds and seedlings are off of his ship, and Crosshair is filling out the last of the paperwork with Grrog. Not to mention, adding some additional fees since he had to unload the ship on his own.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? This place is a lot more welcoming than the rest of the Galaxy.” Grrog offers with a grin.

“I’m sure.”

“You might like farming.”

“I can just about promise you that I won’t.” Crosshair fills the last bit of information on the datapad and then hands it to Grrog, “This looks right?”

“Hm…yep. All of the information is here.” Grrog replies as he scrolls down the information, “Though some of the counts are off, I think. Let me get a count.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes and leans back in the chair, “As you like.”

There’s the sound of a bell behind him as the door to the General Store opens. Grrog beams at the person who just entered, “There you are! We go the seedling shipment in!”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

A voice, soft and female, and so achingly familiar that Crosshair drops the toothpick he’s about to put in his mouth. His head snaps around and he stares, stunned, at the woman standing in the door.

It’s her.

Her hair is longer, braided over her shoulder, and she’s wearing more casual clothes than he’s ever seen her wearing before. 

But it’s still her, his Kitten.

She turns her head slightly and catches sight of him. Her eyes widen, likely just as surprised as he is. Though she doesn’t look afraid, she mostly just looks confused to see him there.

With seeds.

Which, okay, that’s valid.

Grrog vanishes into the back of the shop, and she hesitates, before she turns and walks over to him. 

“Crosshair,” Her voice is soft, and her eyes scan his face. “This is new,” Her fingers, still slightly calloused from years of lightsaber use, brush against the scar on his temple.

He stands and he lightly grips her chin to tilt her head back, “I shot you.” He breathes out.

She meets his gaze evenly, “Yes.”

“You don’t even have a scar.”

She hesitates for a moment, “I figured out what our soul bond is.” She finally says.

Crosshair is silent for a moment, “We can’t hurt each other.”

“No, we can’t.”

He releases her chin, “That’s convenient for us, I suppose.”

“I…” She pauses and then reaches up and presses both of her hands against his cheeks, “We didn’t talk about it. About us. And I know it’s because you were ashamed or—”

“Proud. Not ashamed.” Crosshair corrects, “I was too proud to admit what everyone else already knew. Proud and…a little afraid.”

“Why would you be afraid, Cross?”

“Because. You were so good, Kitten.” He brings his hands to cup her face, “You’re so good and I know you deserve better than me. You always have. Someone as good as you are.”

“I don’t think that’s your choice to make.” She says slowly, thoughtfully. “Not when I’ve been choosing you since the first time we met.”

Crosshair sighs, “You should hate me. I tried to kill you.”

“You didn’t, though.”

Slowly he leans in and bumps his forehead against hers. Crosshair can feel her breath against his face, warm and alive in a way that he never thought that he would feel again.

“I’m sorry.” He says, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please—”

“There is nothing to forgive.” Her voice is soft, yet there’s steel underlying her words, “You did nothing wrong. You and your brothers are as much victims of this war as we were.”

“They made us as weapons,” Crosshair says, his voice thick with grief that he’s never had the chance to put into words, “They made us to be weapons against the Jedi.”

“That’s not your fault.” She whispers, “It’s not your fault, and I can’t think of a single Jedi who would blame you for it. Not when they learned the truth.”

Crosshair shudders, and his forehead falls to her shoulder. 

Gentle arms slide around him and brush through his hair. “Come home with me, Crosshair.” Her offer is soft and warm and so, very, tempting. 

Nothing would make him happier than following her home and making her home. But he can’t put her in danger. He can’t.

“The Empire—”

“—will hunt me whether you’re here or not.” She interrupts, “Don’t leave me again, Crosshair. Please?”

Crosshair melts on the spot, “You don’t play fair, Kitten.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply. There’s nothing for him to say. So, instead, he pulls her into a kiss. A kiss that’s been a long time coming. It feels like a missing piece of his soul snaps into place, and his arms slide protectively around her.

He’s never going to let her go again. Ever.

[randomgurl2326]

Welcome To Th- Oh Shit… Part 1

A/N: I’ve been thinking about this particular idea for a while now. I hope you enjoy it, my little chalupas(if this does well, I’ll make a part 2)💚💜

As the Going Merry docked in the ship yard of the BARATIE the eccentric captain was out of his mind excited at the promise of food, the ostentatious navigator and the protective swordsman were trying to figure out why their captain could all of the sudden could navigate, and the ‘ferocious’ sharp-shooter was trying to calm down his best friend. The best friend being the introverted healer.

The healer was protesting and swinging at her best friend to let her go and trying to tell the bow in the straw hat that they should leave and forget about this place. Unfortunately for the girl, the captain had no such plans.

“Cap, c’mon, we have to go. This place,” the healer vaguely indicates to the fish structure, “is not all that it seems. Trust me, c’mon, man. I mean it really, let’s just go.”

Luffy looked at the girl incuriously, “why would we pass up food. I’m starving.” The boy captain called out to the navigator, “Nami! You almost done?”

The orange haired navigator gave an unenthusiastic thumbs up and said, “all good to go!”

“All eight, come on you big baby,” Usopp said, practically dragging his best friend I got he restaurant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inside the fish-like restaurant, the atmosphere is lively as the Straw Har Crew settles in. Th e/c woman looks a little nervous sitting ther, but stills plays nonchalant as her friends take there seats, or in Zoro’a case; struggle to sit.

“Having trouble there, oh so fearsome pirate hunter,” the healer mocks the green-haired swordsman. Zoro gives her an unimpressed look,”shut up.”

The h/c woman chuckles to herself as she looks about until a golden haired waiter came up to the group, her eyes widening.

“Hi. Welcome to our shitty restaurant, where the only thing worse than the ambiance is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you,” the golden-haired waiter asks, clearly annoyed and not noticing the two women yet.

The h/c woman clearly looks like she wants to die at the moment as the moss colored haired man looks at her with a questioning look.

The curly haired captain answers with his mouth still stuffed with bread. “One of everything, please!”

Sanji looks over at him, still clearly not impressed, “Anything to drink? One of our signature cocktails, to help you choke down your meal?”

As the blue-eyes waiter finished the h/c woman—clearly with more gained confidence—says, “I see your service still hasn’t changed, Sanji. Evey time Zeff decides to kick off the line, huh? Surprised he still even let’s you out here with how many women you flirt with.” Y/N said the last part more quiet, almost inaudible, but Sanji heard, he always heard.

The golden-haired waiter’s eyes widened at the sight of the woman and said, “and here I thought that I would never see you again, madame.” The next words that come out of his mouth are clearly meant full-heatedly, but come out a little tense. “Lovely to see you again, Y/N.”

“Cut the shit-“

Everyone at the table can tell the tension between the two, all them looking at each other questioningly. Bit the captain seemed confused to see the introverted woman so feisty towards the charming waiter.

The swordsman decided to help his friend and cut her off by saying, “waiter, can I get a beer for me and something for my friends,” he asked nodding over to the rest of the crew.

Usopp weighed in swiftly with his order, “two beers. I usually have three, but-“

The sharp-shooter was interrupted by the boy with straw hat, “and a milk!”

“Three beers and a milk. And uh, for the madame,” Sanji questions with a charming smile towards the orange-haired navigator.

Nami looks at him with a blink and an unimpressed voice, sensing her friends some-what dislike towards the guy, “water.”

Sanji keeps his award winning smile on his face as he asks, “still, sparkling, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?”

Y/N scoffs, with a hard-look, her heart aching, “figures.”

Nami looks between the two before answering with a solemn voice and sort-of questioning voice, “regular water; in a regular glass, thanks.”

The flirtatious waiter then turns to the clearly aching girl with a love-stricken gaze(clearly only able to be told by the two) and say, “and for the one and only? Usual?”

The healer looks from Sanji’a eyes, to the ceiling, purses her lips and looks back to Sanji. “Actually, no. Bourbon. Double.”

“Ah, changing it up, are we, beautiful madame? Tell me, why would the missus change it up after all this time. Anyway, coming right up,” the flirtatious waiter says while leaving the crew.

Usopp blows out a big breath of air, puffing out his cheeks as everyone looks to the e/c girl. Nami, being the only one brave enough, asks, “what was that about? How do you know that guy?”

Y/N looks to where Sanji entered, and says with a small voice, without meeting her crew’s gaze and says, “that, my friend is my ex-husband. Who I am most definitely still in love with.”

The entirety of the crew looks at the woman with wide eyes and screech out—all in sink, “WHAT!?”

A/N: I definitely don’t know how to feel about this one, so please let me know how it was in the comments or olease DM me(or whatever you call it). I don’t know if this was a good one and this was my first time writing for Sanji after drooling over him for weeks. I really hope you guys liked it, and if you did please like or reblog. I live toy my little chalupas💚💜

[mydearlybeloathed]

𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐂𝐄

𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ♡

navigator!zoro and swordswoman!nami headcannons

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒 ♡

➥ all gender neutral

[zoro, romantic] "do not kiss me again"

[usopp, romantic] "i once told you i'd kissed a thousand women..."

[zoro, nami, platonic] "they're cheating, you know"

[nami, romantic] “kiss her you fool”

[zoro, romantic] “brazen”

[nami, platonic/romantic] “she’s my friend”

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐏𝐋𝐄 ♡

moodswings

how zoro, sanji, and luffy deal with a pms-ing reader... f!reader

too sweet

nami, zoro x gn!reader

their mermaid lovers

mermaids and pirates should be sworn enemies by default... but you decide to spin that precedent on its head. various x mermaid!reader

big brothers, little sisters

aka an older sister fulfills her childhood wish for a big brother various x sister!reader

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 ♡

nothing yet...

𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐘 ♡

are you still sad?

luffy had always been more observant than you gave him credit for. f!reader, opla!luffy

i remember thinking i had you

you'd always had a feeling luffy's dreams would outgrow you, but when that day finally arrives, you're not as prepared as you'd thought you'd be. now he's willing to take a chance to make his dream come true, fully believing you're right behind him. you have a decision to make: risk everything for the boy who means everything, or set him free of your doubts. gn!reader, multi part fic, opla!luffy

you can talk to me, but you already know

a mission to recover your prized research from your greedy ex-employer goes awry when you, the crew's pacifist, decide to join the fight in the name of saving your beloved captain. when you awake from your near-mortal injuries, luffy demands to know why you put yourself in danger, and you're not sure you can answer him. gn!reader

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈 ♡

flavors of home

in which even though you've been rescued, you're homesick. a certain pirate chef is more than willing to help cure the ailment. f!reader

we are never getting back together (?)

in which you, now a successful singer, and sanji, now a pirate, reunite unexpectedly when you return to baratie for a one night only performance.f!reader

the one where you say no to the cat

your daughter really wants a cat, and you're adamant that the answer is no... until it starts to look like a yes.wife!reader

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎 ♡

get some sleep

you just can't get to sleep thanks to a terrible rainstorm terrorizing the ship. luckily, your tossing and turning inspired nami with an idea: just go sleep with the swordsman. f!reader

got me spinning like a ballerina

in which zoro doesn't dance, but he has no issue in watching you twirl yourself off your feet. so long as you twirl back to him when your feet get tired. f!reader

sail again

once upon a time, you'd weaseled your way into the demon pirate hunter's confidance, and maybe even his heart too. but one bounty gone wrong leads to you being left behind, and you just can't understand why. f!reader, apothecary!reader, multi part fic, opla!zoro

is she divine, is it the wine?

the grace of the sword and the stage come together as the strawhats' swordsman and dancer fall in love. zoro x fem!dancer!reader

quality time

you and zoro train together every morning, so it was only a matter of time till one of you got hurt (spoiler: it's not zoro) gn!artist!reader

once upon a dream

Long ago, you were cursed to one day sleep for an eternity—unless you’re presented with true love. You thought destiny couldn’t find you on the high seas, but when you're sorely mistaken, it's up to a certain swordsman to get his act together and rescue you from eternal sleep. sleeping beauty au, princess!reader

𝐔𝐒𝐎𝐏𝐏 ♡

coming soon...

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 ♡

im a quilt of all the ones I've loved

nami thinks theres so much of you wrapped up in all of her, that not even distance or time could change the way she feels. or in which three little bits of you now make up the patches of nami's person. f!reader

[blu3haw4]

Hi, hello, remember when i posted a little fic two years ago called 'loved your parting gift (dead people are my favorite)' and then last year i talked about how that world lives in my mind rent free and how I've imagine that very cathartic scene of Lexa bleeding at Clarke's place and her calling Anya to watch Lexa while she feeds from countless people because the sent of Lexa's blood makes her incredibly thirsty? Do you remember?

Well i didn't write that scene (actually i did but it's not edited and I'm not sure i want it to be precisely like that so) instead I wrote a little night months after, a little look into their abettor-ship.

I feel like in the first installment it looks a little like these two are pretty serious, but in my head this fic is a little cracky. Like sure Lexa is Commander of the 12 clans full of werewolf packs (this isn't abo btw) sure she's the most powerful alpha of her people, sure she can control other alphas as though they were her beta's. But also she's just a girl. She's practically 21yo (210 in reality (215 actually, which makes Clarke want to celebrate her sweet (2)16's) but she's a wolf so its the same) and she just really likes this very pretty girl, mysterious and possibly incredibly dangerous but also just a girl who with all her power (and years on earth) is actually just chilling.

So here's that little night

For Clextober 2024, Idea 16 (already on ao3)

The Halloween Party

“A Halloween party? Seriously?” Lexa deadpanned.

“A custom party” Clarke clarified, covered excitement in her voice.

“Yeah, I got that part”

“Don’t sound so excited” She rolled her eyes.

“Of course I’m not excited Clarke, I’ve seen enough terrible representation of my kind? Don’t you hate those of yours?”

“Why would I?” Clarke laughed “few are exaggerated versions the fictional character created about us, and most are pretty simple and very accurate representation of how we really look like... humans with fangs and blood dripping down our mouths. And, by the way, I think the latest tv shows have done a pretty good job at representing your kind”

“When was the last time you saw a werewolf?” Lexa narrowed her eyes, she can’t remember the last time she saw a werewolf custom or tv show, but they were never flattering, and the few movies she knew about weren’t great either.

“I’m standing right in front of one!”

“Before that” Lexa rolled her eyes.

“Irrelevant, trirku, I’ve seen you fully and partially wolfed out as well as human size, you’ve got to admit they’re getting it right -finally”

“Trikru is not-“

“Your last name, I know, but you don’t have one, so suck it up” Clarke interrupts, with that sweet, little flirty tone she used to mock her -and to calm the bad guys she dried to feed- “You’re the one who rejected Woods”

“Because that’s just stupid-” before Clarke could jump with some retort again, she railed the conversation back “Why is it necessary? To go to this party?”

“Because!” Clarke rolled her eyes sighing, it had been an intense few months since they met, what started as just tense avoidance quickly turned into a series of unfortunate events that landed them on a weird abettor-ship. The vampire had to get used to sharing a city with a huge clan of werewolves’ packs, all the while making sure they weren’t sniffing around where they shouldn’t, whatever that’d be other super-natural creatures’ business or outright hunter houses. She hadn’t done the best job at it from afar, hence their fragile alliance.

“You said you wanted in on the majority of non-humans around here, this is your way of mingling”

“But why a Halloween party?”

“Because it’s fun! Because we hide every day, most have a lot more covering up to do than you and I. Halloween is the perfect opportunity to hide in plain sight, is the one occasion they get to be themselves around those they call friends without any judgment”

‘Do you have friends?’ Was the question in Lexa’s mind, but she kept it there, the line between professionalism and friendship or whatever with Clarke were blurry enough already. She’s made enough mistakes the past six months that led her down dangerous paths, she owed it to her clan to stay focused, to mend those mistakes, no matter how much she just wanted to get to know Clarke.

“You sure it’s a good idea?”

“Yes! For one you’ll get to do something fun, and two, how else will you know who’s pissed that you and your clan are here and who doesn’t give a shit?”

“Isn’t that the point of our agreement?”

“I agreed to help you, not do you binding” Clarke deadpanned “Look as far as I’m aware there hasn't been a pack around for about fifty years, most witches I know don’t care about you, but there’s plenty of vampires around who love to feed into our animosity. This party is your chance to check the field, some ghouls hide perfectly and won’t care that you pissed off hunters, there’s fairies though I’m sure would love to help them, there’s a variety of chimeras that-”

“Okay. I get it. Plenty of creature, perfect night, perfect chance”

“Exactly. Efficiency” Clarke winked at her.

With a sigh Lexa stood up “Fine, I’ll be here at seven”

“You better be in a nice custom!” Clarke called after her “You don’t want people to think you’re a boring ass human!” Lexa rolled her eyes yet started to plan her outfit for the following night.

She showed up at seven sharp, in simple black jeans and a white shirt, cut and styled to look worn, her hair braided and held by a bandanna at the top of her head, her make-up was exaggerated, all meat to portray a pirate. She thought she complied to Clarke’s petition, yet her hopes for a compliment fell when the Vampire opened the door.

“You didn’t come as a were?!”

“No! I am one!” She huffed.

“That’s the point!” Clarke chuckles turning around, in her plain fitting black dress, black high heels and… a cape. Because of course she was a vampire. “Such a wasted opportunity” she rolled her eyes, cheeky grin fangs out and all, clearly pleased with her own ‘custom’. Lexa felt a little silly, knowing she spent all day crafting hers.

“I mean don’t get me wrong-” Clarke cut her train of thought, looking her up and down, still grinning, licking her left fang -it was always the left one, same side where that beauty mark sat atop her lip- not that Lexa paid attention or anything. “This fit is… damn, hot as fuck, Trikru, you really leaned into it” And okay, Lexa wasn’t expecting that, so who could blame her if she blushed a little.

“Well, you… said to make it nice”

“It is nice… very nice” Clarke nodded, looking her up and down again as she kept licking that damn fang, how was Lexa supposed to focus on the mission. And okay, it wasn’t really a mission, but she was still supposed to focus on making connections not on… well. Clarke.

They left shortly after, and Lexa was informed on the way that this Halloween party was, actually, several parties. A few different parties they would go to through the night.

And so, they spend about an hour -and a half sometimes- at each party, Lexa meets all of Clarke’s contacts -all witches- and learns to recognize the faces of few vampires who don’t seem to like her. She asks how come they don’t approach them and seem to back away from Clarke, but she deflects, says she’s not sure and bets they’re just smart enough to not mess with Lexa. But she knows it can’t be just that, she doesn’t push it though, just hopes Clarke will trust her enough one day to tell her, after all their relationship at the moment pretty much consisted of exchanging information.

By midnight Lexa had a pretty clear idea of how most creatures felt about her and her clan, she met a few chimeras that lived with packs and seemed to hope that they’d protect them from the hunters, while lone ones kept their distance from her. Ghouls and fairies alike seem all over the place, some wanted to meet her, some seem scared of her, others just outright grossed by her presence. It gave her a good feeling of what she would be dealing with for the next few years of their stay.

So, with her mission accomplished, she finally listened to Clarke and agreed to have fun. With the elixirs provided by Clarke’s witches friends, the pair was able to enjoy the nice numbing of their drinks -not that Clarke wasn’t already a little drunk and high from the few humans she fed from.

Lexa learned over the course of the first two months after her arrival that Clarke had a method of feeding that didn’t involve drinking them dry, and didn’t even leave a mark. The watching had begun with Lexa following her after their first face-to-face encounter, feeling the need to check that Clarke’s victims were in fact the predators she claimed them to be.

That’s how she found her flirting with people at bars and promising a good time, offering them a vape and saying it had weed to cover up the later dizziness, taking them a out to a more private corner and making out with them, Clarke would kiss their necks, nibbling and licking to activate the sedative from her saliva and then biting them to drink from them, they would think she was leaving a hickey when in reality she was only drinking a little of their blood -the equivalent of two exam doses, she would later learn- before licking the wound to heal it close. She’d take them back inside and leave after a while.

Lexa had memorized the pattern, Clarke would drink from four different people per night, and she would skip three nights if she drank someone dry. She wasn’t sure if Clarke was aware of it, she had an idea that Clarke could scent her every time, but she had stopped following her after the first time they spoke. Falling to the conclusion -and promptly ignoring it- that her obsession with the habit had come from wanting to be a part of the rotation of… donors.

-It meant she didn’t realize when the pattern changed, after the night she bled at Clarke’s place, the vampire started to feed every night even if she dried someone, the number of doses per night increased and even some were taken during the day. Clarke didn’t tell her, afraid to accept the reason of her newfound insatiable thirst-

And so, she found herself at the last party mildly drunk, doing everything in her power to keep Clarke’s focus on her, because her inhibition was low and her instincts her directing her more than her conscious, and Clarke kept looking for humans to woo and drink from, not because she need it -or so Lexa thought- just because she wanted to, because she was having fun and she wasn’t -technically- hurting anybody. And Lexa didn’t really want to stop her, she just… wanted her to not kiss other people.

And Clarke kept telling her that she was no fun, that she should let loose and enjoy the night, and Lexa was really trying, but she didn’t know how to without completely exposing herself. Because even her wolf wanted Clarke to bite her, her big bad alpha soul wanted to be bitten, and how was Lexa really supposed to deny that.

So, she showed her she could be fun, she drank and danced with Clarke, and she did her best at flirting, and she noticed when Clarke noticed. She noticed when Clarke stopped looking around for humans, she noticed her flirting turning up from her natural, and she noticed how she danced differently with her. She noticed the way she wouldn’t stop licking her fangs and biting her lips.

She noticed she was breathing heavily “Why are you breathing?” Lexa asked.

Clarke giggled, tilting her head to rest their foreheads together “What?” she sighed with a drunken laugh.

“You don’t need to breath” Lexa hushed, giggling a little too as they stumbled more than danced “Why are you doing it?”

“Oh… well-” and again with the fang-licking, Lexa was sure that a few more time and she wouldn’t be able to hold back the need to capture that tongue “The feeding, y’know how I get drunk because they’re drunk?” she asks, motioning vaguely with her hands and chuckling when Lexa pulls her back to her after she stumbled back.

“It happens because… I kinda… absorb a little of their life. Not like… take from… their time, just-” She tasked, and Lexa couldn’t decide if she should fixate of her mouth or her eyes, bluer than she’d ever seen them “like the blood makes me… alive, for however long it takes my body to… fully…” another giggle, another misstep “absorb it”

“Oh yeah?” Lexa nodded, unable to contain the smile on her face, she bumped her nose with Clarke “Sounds fun” she hushes, because if they stop talking, she might end up kissing her.

And okay, it was what she wanted, but she knew it was a bad idea, and she didn’t want to initiate it anyways.

“It is” Clarke nods, grinning widely “It’s why my eyes are lighter… or bluer… I guess”

“Really?” Lexa leans back, wanting to get a better look, and Clarke unconsciously leans forward, almost chasing her.

“Yep” she sighs this time when their foreheads press together again, there a slumber looks in her eyes now “You know how they’re… black, before I feed?” Lexa only hums her agreement “That’s the… monster”

“Hey, no, don’t call it that. That’s the hunger” Lexa says, and she’s had both arms around Clarke’s waits this whole time, so she lifts one up to cares the side of her neck. “You’re not -We’re not monsters” Clarke eyes her, not buying it.

And Lexa knows, she knows that this is not a worry Clarke carries every day, she knows the vampire is self-aware and has probably lived longer than Lexa is capable of wrapping her head around. She knows these are drunk insecurities that won’t be there in the morning- or in a few hours- but she needs to calm them, because she also knows that is a worry that comes from deep, deep down in her core.

“You are cable of feeding without killing. And even if you had to kill to do it, you wouldn’t be different than an animal. You wouldn’t be different than a werewolf. We’re not that much different than humans”

Clarke’s hands have moved from Lexa’s shoulder to her arms, up her neck and into her hair in a sequence since they started dancing. In the breath after Lexa finishes speaking, one hand moves back into her hair and the other stays holding her arm, a subtle tilt of her head it’s all that’s needed for the lips to connect as she pulls Lexa closer in every way.

Lexa’s breath catches in her throat as her arms instinctively wrap around Clarke and she answers the kiss eagerly. It’s slow for a second, they adjust to the press of Clarke’s fangs in a tight press of lips. Then it intensifies, there’s a brief separation before they both lean in again, stronger, deeper. They pull each other close and sigh into each other’s mouth, Lexa gasps and Clarke smirks every time her fang nibs Lexa’s tongue or lips, and they absently move out of the makeshift dance floor.

They don’t bump into anyone, their super senses kick in and helping them navigate the crowded room without even looking. Clarke sucks on Lexa’s lower lip with a softness that makes Lexa forget there’s sharp fangs behind those lips. She licks into Clarke’s mouth anyways, learning each time where to go and how to enjoy it, Clarke’s tongue guides her too, she absolutely enjoys that part the most.

Lexa is leaned against the hallway wall, the window beside them is open and the breeze is a nice contrast to the warm of their bodies pressed against each other, hands pulling and wandering as they exchange heated kisses.

Lexa gaps and turns her head away from the kiss suddenly, her reflexes kick in when Clarke leans for -a kiss to- her neck and her arm goes up to grab Clarke by the throat. She pauses, confused, still holding Lexa close, and then she hears it too, the faith distinguished howl of a wolf; Clarke can tell is a werewolf, Lexa understands the entire message.

“I need to go” she says, still looking out, eyes red now, fangs out.

“Do you need help?” Clarke sobers up, she doesn’t move though, neither of them do.

“No. You shouldn’t come” and finally Lexa pulls away, Clarke takes a step back with her and their arms drop when Lexa moves to go back into the main room “Clarke. I mean it. Don’t follow” she says, and she tries to ignore the looks on her face, tries not to read too much into the flash of darkening eyes, and leaves without looking back.

[semisomnosres]

I recently re-watched this show and noticed these villains shown literally for 3 seconds, and then I come to my senses in front of an open canvas and a stylus in my hand

Here is my interpretation of ​​them and a couple of sketches, I'm not very good at coming up with names, but for the sake of decency I added them

(I noticed that only the girl's name was shown, if others also had it somewhere, correct me) In order:

Diego Ansford A bounty hunter and a mercenary for hire, perhaps he doesn't even disdain to organize a robbery of a bank that he just met along the way. Judging by his suit, he is not one of those who prefers to carry out tasks quietly, but rather kick down the door and throw grenades for fun, and after 10 minutes there is not a single intact place left inside the building.

W. KING (Willow) She was on Van Rook's client list, maybe she's a collector of ancient artifacts (perhaps it was to her that Van Rook wanted to sell those artifacts from the burial mounds) And now she's in a VERY tense relationship with Abbey (I don't know why, I just wanted to :) so much so that not a single event where these two are together goes by without at least one clump of torn hair.

Dr. Gelfand A bioengineer and neurosurgeon, almost completely fits the description of a "mad scientist" He didn't lose his arm and there is no tragic story about it, he replaced it with a prosthesis himself to make his work easier. He actively buys up cryptids for his experiments (I can imagine how angry Saturdays will be if they meet him. If he had his way, he would have already studied Zak's brain under a microscope.) And I don't know why, but while drawing a sketch with a shot knee, I came up with some kind of friendship between them (?) Where one, many years ago, foolishly gave the other a small amount of money and he hasn't returned it for 20 years. He doesn't even hope that the other will ever return it, but asking at every meeting "what happened to the money" and the other refusing to return it in any way has already become a tradition at the greeting level

Eitor Bergler He became a cyborg after an accident, maybe after a shipwreck. He terrorizes many sea routes and if a ship with valuable contents suddenly disappears, then with a high probability he is involved in it.

Yamamoto Kirahara We have already been shown intelligent cryptids (Argost and the Kumaris) and I got the idea to make him also an intelligent cryptid from the race of mole people. (at first I wanted to make the man a rat, but in the background I had "Inside Job" it talked about mole people) I see him as a businessman who got so rich that he acquired almost impenetrable immunity to the law and has great influence in the criminal world. He doesn't act like Argost, but more covertly

[lacrimosathedark]

I need to know what the fuck is wrong with Radioapple Haters.

I don't mean the people who just don't like the ship, I presume most of them are fine. I mean Haters.

I mean the people who hate it vehemently enough that they attack the creator for advertising duo art.

Apparently (correction: a member of the social media team on Viv's account) posted the new signed Alastor and Lucifer poster on Youtube, and people threw a goddamn fit, enough that that post is now down. I've seen screenshots, but the page itself is gone. It has since been replaced clearly without the ship name.

Like, seriously? All that because you hate a ship? Because they called out the Radioapple fans for art of the pair just in a poster together? The image isn't even ship art, Lucifer is glaring daggers at Alastor, as per usual.

Viv grew in fandom spaces. Alastor is literally an edgy Deviantart OC. She just released a Helluva Boss minisode with the cringiest weeb fan swooning over Blitz when he kills her FOR SHIPPING SOMETHING.

Radioapple is popular, EVERYONE knows this, it's only expected they would capitalize on it, even if just as a joke. (they do so regularly on tiktok)

The whole duo image (correct me if I'm wrong) was AMIR TALAI'S IDEA. Alastor's voice actor is REGULARLY joking around with Radioapple shippers. It's practically his hobby at this point.

Like, this was literally him the other day.

Like??? Calm yourselves.

And as for Viv herself, she has Liked a lot of ship art, including Radioapple.

The creator doesn't mind it, one of the actors finds it hilarious, and the other actor to my knowledge hasn't spoken on the ship but DID sign those posters, WHICH IS ALL THAT POST WAS ABOUT ANYWAY. A poster of two well-loved characters signed by their well-loved voice actors.

Look, 98% chance that Radioapple isn't going to happen, if only to make Alastor's sexuality and the ace rep ABUNDANTLY clear. But if Viv did decide to go that route? Okay? It's her show, not yours? Fuck off???

If you want to consider this duo art Radioapple, then there were ALSO Radiodust and Charlastor posters in the same vein and I didn't see people flipping shit about that despite, yknow, Chaggie and Huskerdust.

The canon of a series you otherwise enjoy can and will disappoint you. As a former of the Supernatural fandom, I am deeply aware of this. When Castiel went season after season with queerbaiting, when they killed off the beloved badass lesbian character Charlie, when Sam had a cool deaf hunter gf who disappeared and never came back, you know what the fandom did?

They made fanfiction about it. And let me tell you, some of it is much better than the series.

You could do that. Or, fuck, maybe someone else already has and you can go read that instead.

You don't like the way the series is going? That's fine. It's no longer for you. Stop watching. Make your own versions of them. But don't go off attacking people for enjoying the idea of Lucifer and Alastor being in close proximity.

The creative team, creator, actors, and artists/animators, is Radioapple friendly. If you can't handle that without throwing a tantrum, find the goddamn door.

I'm not telling you you have to like any ship. I sure as shit don't. But don't be an asshole about it.

[crosshairlovebot]

falling for mr. batchbury / hunter x f!reader

pairing: hunter x f!reader

description: your feelings for Mr. Batchbury blossom as he and his brothers train on your father's estate before they go off to war. During his stay, you realise just how deep your feelings for him go, and maybe, just how much he feels for you too.

REGENCY AU

word count: 6,767

warnings: none. kissing. pining. secret crushes. love confessions.

i have loved the regency romance genre for such a long time, and i was struck with this idea and simply needed to realise it. this was SO fun to write. a good challenge, but mostly just an absolute delight. i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

PART ONE

Naval Officer Lieutenant Hugo ‘Hunter’ Batchbury had always been the kind of man who stood out in a crowd – whether he liked it or not. Not only did he sport a unique birthmark the rich colour of port wine across one side of his face, but his roguish handsomeness coupled with his taciturn air had every debutante of the ton vying for his attentions and hand in marriage.

It was vexing.

It was vexing for you, at least, to watch society fawn over the man who had held your heart for more than half a decade. He had been your secret – no one knew of Mr. Batchbury until after the Napoleonic Wars when he and his band of misfit brothers returned from sea.

Society relished in the gossip that the Batchbury family had made their fortune in the war. The tale of their enlisting was scintillating and circled the ton’s social circles like wildfire, whispers in every ballroom and gentleman’s club. Having initially enlisted in the Royal Navy to support their younger sister and save her from a life of destitution, Mr. Batchbury and his brothers moved through the ranks swiftly with the acquisition of prizemoney – their ship infamous for capturing many enemy ships, never losing a battle.

They were heroes in every sense of the word.

But you knew it before anyone else.

Your first encounter with the Batchbury family was when they arrived at your father’s estate for training with nearly nothing but the clothes on their backs. It was a highly irregular practice, but your empathetic father, a commodore of the Royal Navy, had allowed the Batchbury Brothers and their sister to stay with your family as they trained so they would not be separated from their younger sibling, who was but 13 years old with no other known family.

You and your mother had greeted them all upon arrival, politely welcoming them. 

They’d stepped out of the carriage one by one, the tallest and broadest of them first. You wondered how he’d fit inside the coach. Then the spectacled one, then the grey-haired one and then Mr. Batchbury, with his long hair and facial birthmark. You remembered taking in a breath at the sight of him in all his glory. With his brown skin and dark curls blowing in the morning breeze, you were already taken with him, but that only increased tenfold when you watched him turn to help his sister down from the carriage, lifting her from under her armpits and setting her down next to him. You’d been unable to hide your smile when you watched him take his sister's hand in his.

“Hello,” was all he’d said, inclining his head politely before his eyes moved across your mother and then met yours, lingering there.

You were smitten.

You barely remember what words were exchanged between your father and mother and the Batchburys. Just their names. William, Thomas, Carlisle, Hugo, and Meg. You remember curtsying politely when you were introduced, your face hot as you met Mr. Batchbury’s gaze with a small smile. You also remember the whole interaction was slightly awkward and stilted; the Batchbury Brothers unsure of how to accept your family’s generosity.

Meg, however, was eager and talkative. You liked her.

Once they started their training, you spent the coming weeks watching them from afar with Meg, who longed to join them. And boy, were they quite a sight. 

The Batchbury brothers were a healthy mix of brash, loud, clever and cunning. All close in age, they drew the eye in both looks and temperament, but they impressed your father astronomically. The four of them were his finest officers.

Finest in more ways than one, you often thought. Every single one of them was handsome in their own way, but the handsomeness of Mr. Hugo Batchbury had drawn your attentions immediately, and they have not strayed since.

You often spent hours looking out your drawing room window at the garden below, watching him train with his brothers and your father. He would grow sweaty and would end up wrapping a tie around his forehead to keep his collarbone length hair out of his face. Sometimes he would look up at the window, seeming to always know when someone was near, and wave at his sister before nodding at you. You’d flush every time.

You lost count of the number of times you had been scalded for daydreaming, thinking only of the way his ivory shirt billowed in the wind as he sparred with his brothers, a determined look on his face. But who could blame you? Daydreaming of Mr. Batchbury was, in fact, a better use of your time than embroidery.

In the evenings, the Batchbury family dined with your family. The thought thrilled you, knowing you would end every day in the company of Mr. Batchbury. He was often seated diagonally from you, giving you the perfect line of sight of his dark brown-grey eyes, his hooked nose, and his full lips. His face was truly sculpted by the Gods. You wished those dinners lasted all night, just so you could stare at him longer.

He would only engage in conversation when spoken to directly, otherwise, he remained quiet, only humming in agreement or nodding. Sometimes, you felt his eyes on you, but you were most likely imagining such things. 

His brothers were the same, quiet bar a few snide remarks from Carlisle towards William, who often pouted in response. Meg would giggle until she received a chiding look from Mr. Batchbury. His spectacled brother, Thomas, could chatter on about everything and anything. You rather liked all of them. 

You also enjoyed the way Mr. Batchbury’s mouth would quirk upwards at his brother’s ramblings. He truly was the most beautiful man you had ever seen in your life.

There was one morning, early in his stay at your estate, where you encountered Mr. Batchbury outside of these timetabled activities, and from there began your tumbling down into love.

You walked through the gardens, taking the air after a morning of lessons. Meg was a quick learner, but she bored easily of learning tedious hobbies like pianoforte, and so did you. While she snuck down to the kitchens for more food, you decided to go for a walk.

Your mother had these gardens landscaped to include a small hedge maze in the south corner. No one entered it anymore, except for you, which meant there were no chances of being bothered until you reemerged. But as you followed the familiar pathway towards the centre of the maze, you were surprised to find Mr. Batchbury sitting sideways on the stone bench you usually occupied, his legs stretched across as he hunched over something.

“Oh!” you gasped in surprise, stopping in the entrance to the maze’s centre.

Mr. Batchbury startled uncharacteristically and twisted to see you, his strange-coloured eyes wide and curly hair lifting in the gentle breeze. He wore his training gear, sans the tie around his head. The strings of his shirt were open to reveal his deep brown skin with a smattering of dark curly hair right on his sternum. You felt heat grow in your cheeks and tingle between your thighs. You averted your eyes. It was one thing to view it from your window, but another to see it mere metres from you.

“I am terribly sorry, Mr. Batchbury,” you apologised. “I did not expect to find anyone here.”

Mr. Batchbury inclined his head and turned his body towards you. “It’s quite alright.”

His voice was smoky and deep, and you felt it right down to the core of you. You flushed again.

“Please excuse me, I’ll let you get back to your…” You peered down to his lap which held a sketchbook, with a portrait of a woman you couldn’t completely make out. You watched as Mr. Batchbury swiftly covered the sketch with his forearm. Your face burned at the embarrassment of encroaching on his private work.

“I’m sorry. Good day, Mr. Batchbury.”

You turned on your heel, desperately wanting to get out of there, walk into the lake and act out Ophelia’s death when his voice called out.

“Wait. Stay. I will go,” Mr. Batchbury closed his sketchbook and stood.

“That is not necessary, Mr. Batchbury. You were here first; I will find someplace else to hide from my mama.”

Mr. Batchbury’s mouth lifted in amusement, his entire face brightening at the show of delight. “In that case, we both must stay. I am also hiding...but from my brothers.”

You smiled and took a tentative step towards him. “Is that so? I can’t imagine why you would hide from them.”

Mr. Batchbury shook his head. “You would if you were permitted to spend an afternoon with them.”

You laughed lightly and when Mr. Batchbury gestured to the stone bench for you to sit down, you obliged. Your whole body alighted when you felt him sit down next to you, hyperaware of his strong arms inches from yours as he placed his sketchbook on the other side of him. After a moment of silence, you spoke up again.

“Are you quite certain that I am not intruding?” you asked, turning towards him.

Mr. Batchbury nodded. “I am quite sure. It is nice to have polite and quiet company.”

You smiled. “Your brothers do not often speak at dinner. Except for Thomas, of course.”

Mr. Batchbury took in a breath as he stared out towards the hedge. “My brothers and I are not used to high-born life. And I have told them to be on their best behaviour at dinner. In private, my brothers talk and argue often.”

You studied his profile. Up close, you could see the way the edges of his birthmark were not exact lines and instead seemed to fade into the skin around it. You wanted to reach out and touch it, trace the imperfect lines with the tip of your finger softly and feel the roughness of his stubble as you moved across his face gently. But it would be extremely improper, so you curled your fingers into your palm tightly to suppress the urge.

“I imagine it has been an adjustment staying here whilst you train with my father.”

Mr. Batchbury linked his own hands together. “He is a great man. But yes, it has. I believe my brothers are anxious to go to war, just to escape the expectations of being guests. My sister, on the other hand, is quite enjoying her time. She was very pleased to hear your father will be allowing her to stay whilst we go abroad to fight.”

A warm smile danced on his face at the mention of his sister. You knew he was the eldest, and so the care of her fell mostly onto him. But he did not seem burdened by it. In fact, he seemed to enjoy being the parental figure for his sister. And Meg spoke of him often, telling you stories of how he would stay with her at night in their old cottage, curling around her to keep warm when they ran out of coals. Or how he would give her at least half of his food, even if it was their only meal of the day and he was starving. These tales not only solidified how much he loved his sister and what he was willing to sacrifice for her, but stoked the flaming crush you had on him. 

He was already a hero to his sister, and he hadn’t even gone to war yet.

“I will be glad to continue to have her company,” you told him honestly.

Mr. Batchbury met your eyes and smiled at you, and you felt the air leave your lungs. He left you breathless, and to receive such a smile from him…one so unfiltered, warm, and so genuine, you felt lucky. His whole face lit up, his eyes bright as they creased at the sides. The feelings bubbling inside your stomach only grew. You averted your gaze, face heating.

You quickly moved the conversation on. “Are you anxious to leave as well?”

“In some ways. But in others…” Mr. Batchbury trailed off, gaze lingering in your periphery before he shook his head and continued. “I will miss Meg terribly. But we have to protect her, do what we can to ensure she is safe.”

You felt your heart squeeze at his words. His devotion was unmatched, and you had the sudden wish to be included in it; for him to be so devoted to you. What would it be like to be loved by Mr. Batchbury? You imagined it would be rather wonderful.

“It was very admirable, what you are doing for her,” you said, smoothing the fabric of your gown.

Mr. Batchbury only shrugged. “Anyone would do such a thing for their family.”

You looked at him with a smirk. “I would not be so certain.”

He sounded genuinely surprised by this, blinking at you as he placed a hand on his rather muscular thigh and turned his body to you. “No?”

“I’m sure there are many out there who would simply send their siblings off to school,” you told him. “I know of men who do that now, who are not at war, so they do not have the responsibility of caring for a child beyond sending tuition money.”

Mr. Batchbury shook his head. “I can’t imagine leaving any of my siblings behind like that, let alone Meg. I don’t even want to leave her behind at all, but war is no place for a child.”

You gazed at him, and you could not hide your admiration. How could a man like this exist and not be a figment of your imaginings? He must have been sent from heaven, for a man on Earth could never be so exceptional, so lovely.

“You are a good man, Mr. Batchbury.”

Mr. Batchbury met your gaze and watched you with an expression you could not recognise. No matter how much you wished, no matter how much you could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, you could not look away from him. His brown-grey eyes bore into you, like they were seeing into your soul, and giving you a window into his. When you looked at him, you saw someone so kind and so unselfish, so devoted to his family and to keeping his sister safe. Someone willing to put himself in danger in the hope that she would be taken care of in his absence. His heart was huge, and he downplayed all of it, acting like it was not a choice, but something he simply did because he loved. 

When Mr. Batchbury loved, you'd learnt, he loved faithfully and unwaveringly. His heart found a place to belong, and then never moved. It was a mountainous kind of heart, that stalled and weathered storms for those it loved and shielded them from harm, that remained strong for eternity.

Oh, how you longed to experience it.

You absently parted your lips and watched as Mr. Batchbury’s eyes darted towards the movement. He gazed there, zeroing in on your mouth for a moment too long before he cleared his throat and abruptly looked away. 

“I should find my brothers; ensure they have not caused any trouble while I’ve been hiding.” He stood up, gathering his sketchbook and pencils, sounding a little breathless.

“Yes, o-of course.” You could barely string a sentence together, overcome with how much you felt for this man, and how he just looked like he had wanted to kiss you.

“Thank you for the company,” Mr. Batchbury inclined his head before quickly walking away, back through where you came from, his footsteps light against the gravel. 

You took a deep breath and attempted to calm your racing heart. But you feared your heart would forever be hurried as long as Mr. Batchbury continued to exist in the same time as you.

In the several weeks that followed, you would have unplanned meetings with Mr. Batchbury in the maze. At least, they began as unplanned, before you both found excuses to meet each other there. It was so easy being with him, to talk to him and laugh with him. Some days you would regale him with tales of your childhood, and then beg him to tell you of his, no matter how fleeting it had been due to their circumstance and his position as eldest sibling. On others, you both did not talk at all, only sat beside each other, you with a book, and him with his sketchbook aimed away from your eyes.

One day, after many meetings in which your feelings for him grew beyond your known capacity, you taught him several dances. By his request, surprisingly.

“I did not take you as one to dance,” you teased him, standing up and walking several metres to where there was a space for you both to dance unobstructed.

You watched as the port wine stain across Mr. Batchbury’s face deepened slightly in colour. Was he blushing? “I am not. I think it will help with…my training.”

You gave him a strange look before you began teaching him.

“Now half turn, and pass by my shoulder,” you told him, and he followed your instruction. He was a fast learner, and as it turns out, a fine dancer. Perhaps the entire Batchbury clan were quick studies.

“Hold my hands, and we turn together,” you instructed.

You felt his hands encircle yours and through the barely there lace of your gloves, you felt the heat of his palms on yours. You hitched a breath as his fingers curled to hold yours firmly; securely. You met his eyes, which were on yours in an intense gaze that left you breathless. You dared not look away from his eyes, one side surrounded by his birthmark, as he turned with you. You forgot what choreography came next as you both turned slowly around each other, moving closer and closer, hands intertwined. 

Eventually, you slowed to a stop, but neither of you moved to break apart. Your noses nearly touched, and you’d never been so close to a man in your life. You could feel his breath on your skin, and you were sure he could hear just how fast your heart was beating. Mr Batchbury’s hold on your hands was the only thing that tethered you to the Earth, nothing else could be comprehended but his touch and his eyes. You felt the pad of this thumb gently move across your knuckles in a gesture you’d only read about in books. You inhaled softly, heart expanding in your chest.

“Mr. Batchbury,” you breathed.

“Yes,” he breathed back.

“I…I don’t remember what comes next,” you whispered, not sure what else to say.

Mr. Batchbury blinked several times, as if he suddenly realised where he was and how intimate their position had been, and took a step back, placing distance between you both. He then looked down at your hands and then gently let them go.

“I’m very sorry. That wasn’t…” He paused before he settled on, “Right.”

You quickly shook your head, wishing he would come closer once again. “No, it’s quite alright. Really.”

Mr. Batchbury shook his head. “No. It’s not. Your father would not be pleased.”

“I care little of what my father thinks. And we were only dancing.”

“Dancing,” he repeated like he was unsure himself.

“Dancing,” you confirmed. You held out your hand, desperate for him to take it again. “Please, let us continue.”

Mr. Batchbury looked at your hand hesitantly before he took it again, this time his hold loose and non-committal and you longed for the way he held you just minutes ago.

You raced through the rest of the dance, and when you had finished, Mr. Batchbury thanked you before making an excuse and leaving swiftly. You sighed and sat on the bench, thinking back to the way he had looked at you; the hold he’d had on your hand and the way he’d moved his thumbs across your knuckles. He had been so close…surely…surely he had wanted to kiss you? No one looked at someone like that, held someone like that in a dance without the hope that their lips would meet their partners…right? You put your head in your hands. You did not know, and there was no one you could ask. 

You wished he had. You wished he had pressed his lips to yours, and ended your misery. You imagined it endlessly. You thought of the way he would hold you close against him as he moved his lips against yours. His looked so soft, you imagined they’d feel soft too. They’d be gentle, coaxing, teaching yours. You’d place your fingers into his hair, tangling them in the curly locks hoping they’d get trapped in there, chaining you to him forever. He was so proficient in everything else he did, surely he would be when it came to kissing too. 

Oh, yes, you thought. To kiss Mr. Batchury would be heavenly indeed.

The next day, you weren’t sure you would find Mr. Batchbury in the maze. As much as you wished differently, you suspected that after yesterday afternoon’s dance lesson, you would not see him again until the evening. 

But you reached the centre of the maze and saw him sitting there with his back to you, no doubt his sketchbook on his lap. He had tilted his head slightly at the sound of your footsteps – his hearing was exceptional.

You swallowed and began to walk towards him. He turned to face you, swivelling his body as he made room for you on the bench. He pulled his sketchbook to his chest, hiding the pages from your eyes.

“I apologise for yesterday,” he said. “I should not have been so…”

“We were only dancing,” you were quick to reassure.

He did not say anything, he only looked at you, something indiscernible passing over his face as you watched his hands tighten on his sketchbook, the pages squeezing under his fingertips. You watched him curiously, trying to decipher the crease of his brow. If you were brave enough, and were sure your actions would not scare him away yet again, you would push the pad of your thumb into the lines formed between his brow, flatten them gently until they were gone. Your need to touch him only intensified after how close you’d been to him yesterday. To feel the tickle of his breath on your cheeks tease how easy it would’ve been to close the distance was a cruel twist of the knife into your feelings for Mr. Batchbury, knowing you would not get that close again. 

After several beats of silence that seemed to feel endless in your agony, he said, “My brothers and I will be departing tomorrow at dawn. Your father says we are ready.”

Your breath hitched in surprise. “Oh.” 

You felt your throat close up. You knew it was coming, but did it have to be so soon? You had grown so used to his presence these several weeks, to seeing him training, to dining with him, to spending these precious hours with him in the maze…how would you do without him? And he was going to war no less…the thought that he might never return was so violent you felt it proverbially slam into you, and you had to grip the edge of the stone bench to steady yourself.

And even if–when, when he came back, so much could change while he was away. Your mother would surely take you to London for another tedious season, desperate for you to make a match. Only none would live up to Mr. Batchbury. And if you did marry at your mother’s behest, he would return, and your feelings would come back stronger than ever, only now there was no chance of anything to come of you both. He would surely find someone else, and marry them instead.

You felt like crying. You wanted him to stay. But he never would, and it would be selfish and foolish to ask.

It seemed as though Mr. Batchbury would be someone you were only meant to know for a short time. 

“I’m sure you and your brothers will be missed by your sister,” you managed to choke out. And by me. I will miss you so terribly I fear my chest will break open with the ache of it.

Mr. Batchbury gave a pained expression. “I feel sick at the thought of leaving her.”

You didn’t stop yourself this time, placing a hand on his forearm. “I will look after her. She will be okay. I promise you, Mr. Batchbury,”

He looked at you, brows slanted in a way that broke your heart and mouth stretched into the saddest of smiles. “That is my only comfort, knowing you will be there for her.”

“It is the least I can do,” you strained out, forcing a tight-lipped smile you only hoped fooled him into thinking you did not feel as much as you did.

He looked at you, eyes darting over your face for several moments before looking away, his knuckles white with their hold on his sketchbook. You traced your gaze across his profile, outlining the hook of his nose against the overcast sky. You had already memorised it, but you allowed yourself one last look. If you were accomplished at drawing, you would’ve filled sketchbooks with his face, a visual ode to his beauty, and a eulogy of your love.

“I should go,” he cleared his throat. “Ensure we are ready, spend as much time with Meg as I can.”

You blinked away tears. “Of course.” Would he really say nothing more to you? After all this time spent together?

Mr. Batchbury stood up and in the movement, his sketchbook dropped on the ground in front of you, page splayed open to his drawings. You looked down and inhaled a sharp breath when you finally laid your eyes upon the sketches that had evaded you.

The drawings…they were all of you.

Mr. Batchbury bent to hastily pick up the book and close it roughly and caged the book against his chest, concealing the drawings of you once again. You looked up at him, mouth parted in shock as he pointedly avoided your eyes the port wine stain on his face growing darker as he blushed. 

“Mr. Batchbury–”

“I must go,” he strangled out and started to walk. 

You couldn’t let him leave like this. Not now. Not when you’d just discovered this; his sketches of you. You stood abruptly and blocked his path, your hand raised in a stop motion which he bumped into. “Wait, please.”

His expression was full of anguish as he finally met your eyes. But you needed to know, even if he wished you didn’t.

You turned your palm up between you slowly, your brows slanted as you looked towards him. You watched his eyes move down to look at your waiting hand and then back to your eyes. 

“May I…?” you breathed.

You watched his arms flex as he hesitated, his chest rising and falling behind the sketchbook. After a moment, he reluctantly handed it over. You opened it gingerly and began to slowly comb through the pages. 

The book started with florals, landscapes, and portraits of his brothers and sister before they slowly became interpolated with the sketches of you. Your heart raced as you looked through them. There were so many. You knew he had little money at all, let alone for something as frivolous as an art book, and yet he’d filled so many pages with you. With you sitting at dinner, of you laughing, you from the drawing room window, you on the bench reading. 

He'd filled a sketchbook with you.

All these weeks, he’d been looking at you as you looked at him? This whole time? 

You then landed on the most striking of all – your eyes yesterday, up close as he’d stared into them as you danced. 

They were remarkable, and all done by memory – you hadn’t sat for a single one.

You looked up at him, and his eyes flicked to yours, an expression a combination of pain and embarrassment as his port wine stain was still darkened with blush.

Your voice was but a whisper. “They’re all of me.”

“Yes,” he rasped, but his eyes never left yours.

“W-Why?”

“Because you are bewitching to me,” he told you, his voice stronger now. He’d answered it like he could not believe you had to ask, like he was shocked it was not obvious to you. Like it was fueled with the truth. Mr. Batchbury did not lie, and his words were spoken with conviction, as sure as the mountains his heart mirrored. “Because I am unable to go a single moment without you in my thoughts, and I’m not sure I ever want to be free of such notions.”

You gaped at him. “Mr. Batchbury–”

“I apologise if I overstepped.” He spoke directly, as though he had embraced his truth; his actions. Like he was no longer embarrassed, but rather empowered and confident in how he felt. “I should have asked. But how could I?”

You did not know. Maybe if you weren’t reeling from his confession, you would have an answer for him. But even then, perhaps there was no right way to say you wished to capture someone’s likeness tens of times over.

You wanted to speak, but you were shocked. You were bewitching to him ? He could not stop thinking about you ? You could hardly believe it to be true. You could hardly believe that a man like Mr. Batchbury had been occupied with thoughts of you . You, a mere earthling to an ethereal angel such as him.

But Mr. Batchbury did not lie. He was as faithful as the mountains, after all.

At your growing silence, he perceived this as your disapproval of his actions; of his feelings. He took a shaky breath as he slowly took the book from you and closed it.

“I…I have upset you,” he deduced, dejected. “I–”

You cut him off, desperate to tell him of your own feelings. Desperate to say you thought of him the same. “You have not upset me.”

Mr. Batchbury’s brows raised and his eyes widened in surprise. You swallowed as he gazed upon you. If he had been brave enough to tell you, you could tell him. But how? What words? What arrangement of phrases could you string together to fully convey the extent of what you felt for this man? You feared you could not. But you would try.

You blinked at him before shaking your head. “You…are so incredibly cruel for telling me this now, when you cannot stay.”

You watched his expression as he registered your words and what they implied, as they sunk into his bones. You watched his mouth part with a breath and his shoulders relax – you had not even been able to tell how truly anxious he had been waiting to know how you felt.

He shook his head, his voice quiet once again, but still held the strength of his truth. “I know.”

“And yet,” you took a breath as you smiled at him, eyes stinging at the bittersweet moment of the truths you were unveiling. “I cannot be angry with you, not when my heart is completely and utterly yours.”

Mr. Batchbury sucked in a breath at your words. You watched his eyes soften around the edges as the breeze blew through his curls, lifting them off his shoulders at the same time the corners of his mouth lifted slightly too. His grip on the sketchbook slackened. Your heart warmed at the expression on his face, the look of disbelief mixed with joy.

His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it, that smokiness only highlighting the vulnerability of his words. “You truly mean that?”

You let out a breathy laugh, smiling. “I do.”

He dropped his sketchbook, falling to the side of you both as he stepped forward and took your hands in his, squeezing them gently and securely. His palms pressed into yours, the warmth travelling under your skin and igniting your insides. His chest brushed against yours and you looked up into his brown-grey eyes, watching the way light seemed to dance in them when he was happy. 

“Tell me again.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you squeezed his hands as the words fell out of your mouth earnestly and easily. “My heart is yours.”

Mr. Batchbury sighed, closing his eyes and pulling you flush against him, pressing his forehead to yours, his arms now encircling your waist. You gasped, placing your hands on his chest. You let your eyes fall closed as your noses touched. You were even closer than you had been yesterday – though now you couldn’t believe you thought that had been close, not when you were pressed against him like this. 

You catalogued every detail of his body against yours. Even through your corset, you felt the hardness of his chest. He was so warm and solid, and under your hands, you could feel the steady beat of his heart moving rapidly, matching yours. His breath tickled your skin, and you breathed it in, his hot breath filling your lungs.  He smelt of soap and cedar and it was entirely intoxicating. You had to find a way to bottle this smell up, and keep it under your pillow to breathe in. He had completely engulfed you, physically and emotionally.

And you never wanted him to stop.

You felt his throat vibrate, the deep tenor of his voice trembling under your hands. It was like he was speaking inside you. His voice was husky and you felt the breath of his words on your lips. 

“One more time.”

You did not hesitate. “I am yours.”

He kissed you then, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that felt like your entire body was on fire. You drew in a breath as you felt his hold on you tighten, his head tilting as he moved his lips against yours. You had never been kissed before, but something told you that kissing did not always feel like this. Just as he engulfed you before, he overwhelmed you now. His mouth was hot, and passionate, his kisses deep as one hand cradled your head to his. He kissed like he loved; faithfully, strongly. You could never guess what was in his heart when he kissed like this. It was obvious.

You had imagined kissing Mr. Batchbury would be heavenly. But it was better than that. His full lips were soft, as you thought, and though his kiss was passionate, it was never controlling or taking without permission. His kisses coaxed you, draw you further into him.

You moaned into the kiss and you felt his hold on your body tighten again. Your mouths opened for air, but you did not end this embrace. You moved your hands into his hair and fisted his curls as you'd always wished to, and drew him in closer again, kissing him once again. You could not get enough. How could you stop? It was dizzying. You felt his groan against your hands and lips as he deepened the kiss once more before pulling back. 

He did not go far, and neither did you. He pressed his forehead into yours once again, noses against each other and you both caught your breath.

“Am I dreaming?” You spoke without thinking.

Mr. Batchbury’s chuckle sent every nerve ending in your body tingle. “I hope not.”

You laughed lightly and drew back a little to see Mr. Batchbury’s smile. What a sight to behold, the way his cheeks stretched to accommodate such joy on his features. His eyes seemed to sparkle too. You felt dazed, like you’d just seen heaven on Earth.

You allowed yourself to trace the outline of his birthmark with your finger, just as you’d always imagined doing. You felt Mr. Batchbury’s arms encircle your waist, his eyes never leaving your face as you performed your featherlight ministrations down his forehead, across his cheek and all the way to his chin.

“You have to come back,” you whispered, your voice breaking a little.

He blinked at you, and you felt his face move under your fingers as he spoke, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “You’re willing to wait for me?”

You frowned at him. “How could you ask that when I just told you I am yours?”

Mr. Batchbury shook his head and leaned in again to kiss you once more. This kiss was much shorter than the one that preceded it. And it was sweeter too. You smiled into the kiss before he pulled away. The expression on his face one of uncertainty.

“What about your father? He will not approve.”

You shook your head, fingers moving to his curls, pushing them back and tucking them behind his ear. “He likes you a great deal.”

“Maybe. But I am…” He trailed off and you frowned and cradled his face in your hand. He kissed your palm as if it was instinct.

“You are what?”

Mr Batchbury bit his lips as lifted a hand from your waist and cupped your jaw, his thumb running across your cheekbone as he looked at you with such devotion you thought you might cry. 

“Poor. I have nothing to offer you, my love. And I am going to war.”

Your heart squeezed. Had this been the source of his hesitation all along? You shook your head. “I do not need anything but this–” 

You placed the hand that held his face on his heart. You felt it pick up under your palm as you gazed into his eyes. You watched his face cycle through several emotions before it seemed to land on adoration. His eyes softened, and his birthmark deepened in colour before he shook his head.

“Bewitching,” he whispered before he leaned in to kiss you again. You felt his every emotion in this kiss as if you truly had fused together, feeling each other's emotions as your own. You felt his love, his devotion, his agony. You wished he did not have to go. But he had his duty to his family. It was cruel that you had managed to know the tiniest feeling of what it would be like to be loved by Mr. Batchbury, and now had to give it up. How could the stars be so vicious? To pull you both together, only to rip you apart again. 

You squeezed your eyes shut as you moved your mouth against his, deepening the kiss until tears fell down your cheeks and he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours, a strangled sound coming from his throat. 

You opened your eyes to see his full of anguish and pain. When he saw the tears that stained your cheeks, he brought the backs of his fingers to your cheek and brushed them away gently. You sniffled as he cradled your face with both hands before pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead. When he met your eyes again, his expression was determined.

“I will come back.” He meant it and believed it.

“Promise me,” was all your voice was strong enough for.

“I promise.” His voice was smokey and hard. Immovable devotion – that was Mr. Batchbury. A mountainous heart that loved fiercely. That loved you fiercely. “I will come back and marry you so I can love you forever.”

You could no longer speak in fear of sobbing in his arms. So you kissed him once more, doing everything you could to memorise the feel of him, so when you woke the next morning and he was nowhere to be found, you could fall back into your daydreams, this time knowing what he felt like and that you would feel it again one day.

He promised you.

Now, almost half a decade, an earned nickname, and a conclusion of a war later, you watched him from the other side of the ballroom. And when Mr. Batchbury – Hunter, as he was now known, met your gaze, he smiled at you knowingly, his eyes soft with the same love you remembered from the maze. You returned it before excusing yourself from the conversation you were not listening to, and disappeared from the ballroom towards the gardens.

banner art by @vimse i hope you enjoyed this FIRST installment. yes, FIRST, bc what is a regency romance without a steamy encounter...hehehe ANYWAY stay tuned!!

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