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sunandsstars · 2 years ago

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YAWNETU

CHAPTER 1

Jake x Neytiri x Na’vi!Reader

Summary: One other mate was enough, but two? Unneeded. ___ was the outcast, the unwanted woman. Jake and Neytiri wouldn’t ever see her..right?

Warnings: Talks of war, Briefly mentions death/Bodily harm, Angst, Swearing, Non-con Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Here it is people, the angst series :( Prepare yourselves

Taglist: @itsyoboysparkel @dumb-fawkin-bitch @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @fanboyluvr

Having one mate was enough for a Na’vi, they did not need another to deal with or weigh them down. It was a huge commitment and for most, a waste of time. More than one significant other was a rare case these days anyway, usually only reserved for Na’vi of a higher ranking, like an Olo’eyktan or Tsahìk.

Jake didn’t know that the Na’vi can bond with more than one at a time until Grace brought it to his attention one day, “Na’vi will mate with only one other person for their whole life, unless duty brings them to marry another” she stated, smoking a cigarette haphazardly in the lab room, eyeing the man who sat uninterested in his wheelchair.

Mating. Jake thought it sounded primal, animalistic, something the creatures back on Earth used to do just to get a quick fuck. But when Neytiri brought it up and he finally experienced it himself, it could only be described as sublime. He’s never felt such feelings, emotions. You share them with your partner in such a deep level it left him feeling breathless.

Following their mating the skypeople attacked and cut down the Tree of Voices, severing one of their main connections to their ancestors. That’s when he realised it was time for war. Several clans joined the mighty Toruk Makto to fight for Pandora, when he called they answered. But the battle was bloody, long and gruelling, they all lost brothers and sisters that day. But at least now they will find peace in Eywa’s warm embrace.

The Great Sorrow then became something of the past and the Omaticaya were relocated to an area by Hellsgate, the humans and Na’vi finally living in harmony but not peace, a lot preferring to still shun the aliens away from their home.

But the forest provided tall trees to cover them from predators and plenty of abundance, humans will also be with their technology inside an environment they can thrive in, so each side wins. Jake had finally been anointed as Olo’eyktan with Neytiri being his tsakarem, the couple couldn’t be more happier with the way things have become, fully believing the skypeople will not return.

But happiness must soon come to an end.

“Ma sa’nok! Why?! Why must we be mated to her?! She is useless!” Neytiri yelled angrily at her mother, the Tsahìk, she has just been told her mother has been seeing visions in her sleep and suspected Eywa was trying to tell her something. This ‘something’ was about her child’s third mate, which she did not anticipate.

“All of our roles play an important part here daughter” Mo’at glared, has she taught her child no less? “your new wife will be a good edition to your family and therefore the clan. It must be done, Eywa has spoken”

Neytiri did not understand, her and Jake were happy together. Alone. They did not need another person to ruin the balance of their life. She turned around sharply to her husband who was sat on the ground by the tree of souls, urging him to make an opinion on the matter with a glare. Jake coughed.

“I agree Mo’at. We are fine together just as it is”

“This is not your decision to make Jake Sully. The great mother will not be happy, she has done this for a reason and we must trust her judgement. She has shown me what will happen if this does not happen, you and your family will fall under a great despair, it will disrupt all we have made” Jake’s ears perked up, alarmed, ‘what does she mean a great despair’. As his thoughts started to turmoil Neytiri continued to talk to her mother, coming to an understanding that it was the way of life. She cannot disregard Eywa’s wishes.

With a huff she walked towards Jake and pulled him up by the arm with no effort, eyes a glare and ears pinned to her head. She walked away and towards her new ikran, ready to get back to camp. “So.. do you know who we’re supposed to mate?”

“Srane”

“Are you gonna tell me?” They flew into the air, Bob screeching as they went above the trees, staying low to the forest. Neytiri didn’t answer his question and stayed silent, shit. He was just a man, a man who knows when NOT to anger a woman, especially one like her. He decided to not take it any further.

Arriving back to Hellsgate they dismounted and landed onto the floor, Jake greeting the humans who passed by them, taking samples from the nature. Neytiri walked up to where the food was being prepared, a group of woman sat by some small children who they looked after while parents were away doing chores. She grabbed one of ladies by the arm and dragged her towards Jake who only stared in confusion. Soon morphing into realisation.

“Introduce yourself” The warrior exclaimed harshly. Knowing that Mo’at has already told her of the plans, she knew going to her daughter first would cause another war and the elder planned to avoid it. So telling the new mate first was the best option for everyone.

“___ te Syakx Hìfey’ite” the woman’s ears lowered to her head and she faced the ground. The pain in her arm where Neytiri gripped was hard, sure to bruise. “I am a gatherer, a healer. I do not hunt like you or -“ Neytiri squeezed her arm to silence her, having enough of her talking.

They were close in age, both eighteen years old and fully grown adults. They both attended Grace’s school together growing up, they were close. ___ was closer with Neytiri’s sister though, Sylwanin. When she died, the younger sister blamed everything on the other girl. Cursing her out and they never talked again until now.

___ was nervous, she knew she had to mate with them, both of them. She knew that the other woman was angry at her still, even after two years. She could not blame her for the grief of her sibling. But over something she did not do? She was not at fault here.

“Nice to meet you” Jake said curtly, not really wanting to talk any further. He did not like the idea of a second mate either, even on Earth it was extremely taboo so he felt awkward on the matter. Neytiri let go of her arm and dragged Jake off, presumably to talk about anything but the ceremony that is supposed to be held later today. Announcing the decisions their Tsahìk has made to the clan, surely they would all be most pleased. ___ could not say the same towards the couple who walked off.

One part of her thought that they just wanted to be alone for a while, being more recently mated and being thrown into another relationship was confusing and disrupting, she understood that. But the more rational part knew that while Neytiri continued to dislike her, she knew their life together would be filled with nothing but pain and suffering. But she would put on a brave face. For her own sake and the clans. Eywa has spoken.

But is what Eywa saying right?

She was correct, the clan was most happy. Despite some whisperings here and there, they would have to agree that they would all make a good trio. ___ was a good healer, she was gifted with her skills. She was also good to the elderly and children, always happy with a smile on her face. Neytiri was a good huntress and a Tsahìk in training, her battle abilities are most adored on. Jake, he was their Toruk Makto, Rider of Last Shadow. He was well respected in that alone.

But while the Omaticaya was happy, she was not. Sat next to Jake on his left she was left to eat in silence as him and Neytiri conversed without her. Not even looking in her direction once. She figured that they would not talk to her all through the night and decided to make peace with herself.

A little girl tapped her shoulder and ___ turned around to face one of the children she often looked after, Sray. “You are going to be mated to them?” she looked at her Olo’eyktan and his wife, yellow eyes wide.

___ nodded and forced a smile on her face “Yes, Sray. I will be” she stated softly, not comfortable with saying the revelation out loud.

Suddenly Sray sniffed, doe eyes watering “does that mean you will not have time for us anymore? Please sa’nu! I do not want you to leave!” the sweet girl jumped in the adults arms and clung to her chest, fearing that if she let go, ___ will disappear.

“Ma ‘evi, I will always have time for you and everyone else, just because I will be mated, does not mean I will not see you ever again” ___ kissed Sray’s head, wiping her little tears and grinning. Bringing comfort to the girl, Sray smiled back, still sniffling.

“LeNa’vi! Fìtxon awnga fpe’ pxefo mìso!” the people cheered, raising their drinks and whooping. The three will be mated under the tree of souls, to legitimise the union.

Jake and Neytiri looked at each other, worry in the man’s and anger in the woman’s. They did not want to do anything with her, but would have to make it look like they had, they were not stupid. If they did not do this then the people will become angry, it would be a disgrace. Only the great mother shall know.

Standing up, Jake held his large hand out to his wife who took it. Letting go and walking towards the direction of the tree, they would not take the ikran, but rather run through the night. Jake then turned to look at ___ who still sat with Sray in her warm arms, he nodded his head to the direction Neytiri went and followed her.

A little hurt that he did not offer his hand to her, ___ kissed Sray’s forehead and stood up, walking after them. As they got deeper into the forest they began to run, ___ tried her best to catch up but the two were hunters, they were more used to navigating the thickness of the fauna better than her.

“W-Wait!” she called in English, but the two ignored her and ran further ahead of her. ___’s ears slicked back and she huffed to herself, heart beating erratically with annoyance.

At some point the jungle got too thick for her to get through and she paused, the two she was following nowhere in sight. She twisted around, straining her ears to hear any calls or footsteps to help guide her. But to no avail, she lost them. Meaning she herself did not know where she was, this part of the forest was so much further out from the old hometree, a part she has not navigated before.

Her breathing started to speed up, panicking. Did they leave her? Alone? Here? She knew they did not like her, but this was too much. It was past eclipse and night, anything could come to kill her.

A rough hand grabbed her arm, the same one Neytiri held earlier that day and turned her around. An angry Jake stood there with brows furrowed, fangs bared. “Why did you stop?” he growled, ears slicked back “you were supposed to follow, not stop and sightsee like a lunatic!”

She did not know what that word meant, but by his tone it was something mean. Her own ears pressed against her head and her tail tucked between her legs, she yelped as she was harshly dragged through the forest, Jake never letting go of her arm even as they got to the tree of souls.

He let go and stood next to Neytiri who had her queue attacked to one of the hanging branches, tendrils letting go and she broke the bond. Turning to see ___ with a hand on her arm, the bruises were darker than before, the sting aching the area and making her hesitant to move it.

The warrior glared at her and snarled “you will have a baby put in you, as it is the way. But we are not bonding. Never. You will deal with that shame” she barked in Jake’s native tongue, her words were harsh and the prospect of not bonding with the only people she could was demeaning, it brought water to her yellow eyes. This was low, a baby without a bond was seen as disgrace. She would bring great shame to Na’vi.

“Neytiri-“

“Kem si ke plltxe kurkung!” ___ closed her mouth, she did not want to anger Neytiri further than she has. Jake, who stood watching the ordeal, strolled towards ___ and pushed her down onto the ground, pulling her loincloth to the side and doing the same to his.

“Pey! Oe kawkrr-“ her words were again cut off as pain filled her lower abdomen, he entered her. It was her first time and he just did it so fast without considering her feelings. Tears streamed down her soft cheeks, pained noises leaving her mouth as Jake started to move. He manhandled her onto her stomach, pressing his hand to her lower back above her tail bone, if the pain at her core wasn’t enough then the sensitive space on her back was.

Neytiri simply watched as her glare burned holes into the girl beneath her, the person that ruined her life. That took her sister away from her, took everything. She was not going to welcome this destroyer into her family, never. She’ll make sure ___ and her children will be shamed, if not by the people then by her own kids and husband.

___ felt something warm release inside of her, oozing out of her hole. She felt Jake lift off of her and heard him step towards his mate, both of them softly talking to one another while ___ was left to curl up, sobbing quietly. The man that was supposed to care for her, supposed to love her, took her dignity and now her first child.

Her heart squeezed in her chest as she could only imagine the future to come.

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#*ੈ✩‧₊˚ yawnetu #avatar 2009 #avatar the way of water #x reader #atwow #avatar x reader #atwow x reader #avatar the way of water x reader #na’vi #angst #series #jake sully #neytiri #poly #unwanted marriage

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themadlu · 9 months ago

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Do Not Open That Door

Astarion is sure his leader's unflinching morals will lead him to another unwanted grave. He is also sure she is putting on an act because people like her do not exist, clearly. He decides to test his assumptions.

TW: None I think

WC: ~3000 words

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird for the encouragement!

Astarion is livid. Well, maybe livid was an overstatement—he is annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Such feelings are still a vast improvement over the fear and shame he's been accustomed to, but they make him restless nonetheless.

Especially because their cause is walking steadily next to him without a care in the world for his inner turmoil.

Zélie, their oh so great leader, has managed to spoil what could have been a perfectly enjoyable afternoon on multiple fronts. First, she decides to talk to the goblins ambushing them instead of treating them like the savages they are.

(“We don’t know how many of them are in this village Astarion. What if there’s a little army and we’re outnumbered?”)

After confirmation that there were, in fact, quite a few goblins (and a couple orcs to boot), she managed to get free passage through the village by leveraging their wriggly alien parasite. He isn’t happy about it. Not at all.

He has to begrudgingly admit hers was a wise call after witnessing just how large and hungry those orcs were. And of course they even agree to help a fellow true soul in need. Just what he needs to undermine what little influence he has on her.

(Her blood is in his body after all.)

In the last tendays she had made it her mission to remind him how despicable murder is, under most circumstances, aside from self-defence. This beautifully idiotic mindset of hers almost got her killed twice in front of his very eyes.

(She doesn’t know he has taken to finish off the enemies she leaves unconscious while she isn’t watching.)

When he had pointed out the suicidal flaw in her morals, she had given him her signature scolding look, crossed her arms, and started breathing in that funny way of hers.

In, hold, out.

(She says she is not trained as a monk, but he’ll be even more damned than he already is if that is true. The way she fights and holds herself—and those sickening ideals she has—tell a different story.)��

“Honestly, darling,” he hisses at her as they walk through the village, squinty eyes trained on their every move. “I thought we agreed that benevolence and honour,” he spits the words out like a curse, “get you nowhere but to an early grave.”

“Astarion,” she always says his name when she speaks to him—even in annoyance— and he hates his constant surprise at hearing it. His elven name had been replaced with other titles over time, more befitting of his status—boy, spawn, whore, slut, beautiful, toy, love…

Truly, it’s a small miracle he managed to hold on to his name. It’s one of the few things left that are truly his, yet hearing it spoken from that solemn woman's lips makes something in his chest preen.

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that front. No, don’t give me that look. Killing someone is never justifiable. No matter what we tell ourselves, we are taking away something that wasn’t ours to begin with. Something irreplaceable. Even—” she held up her hand as he started to complain, “in self-defence, even then, I will make sure to exhaust all alternatives, and even then, it will be a failure on my part.”

You moron.

“Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think like you, darling,” he snapped. Hers was an act. There was no way in the hells anyone could survive to their…whatever age she was, he was never good with human lifespans, with that mindset. It was ridiculous, because if she actually was like that—if two–hundred years of shit didn’t teach him better—she should either be dead in a ditch or have ascended to godhood on her saintly behaviour alone. The only explanation he has for her standing close to him is that the mask she wears is as fake as his own. That, or she is a child of Ilmater. He bets on the former, given her complete ignorance of any deity on Toril.

“But you lied,” he counters, snapping his fingers. “You said we are here on Absolute business. Doesn’t that go against your precious code of honour?” he singsongs in her ear.

“I didn’t lie. My tadpole reacted to theirs, and they drew their own conclusions. Technically, we are going to their camp on Absolute business too, if you count removing these,” she tapped her index to her temple.

He smirks, victorious. “Circumstantial. One day, the tadpole won’t do the work for us and you’ll break your own code or doom us to death. For one, I’d rather not repeat the experience,” he says in a quiet voice, pointing at his chest.

Their companions are still unaware of his condition—another occasion his holy leader conveniently withheld information.

(“It’s your secret, it’s your decision.” Hypocrite.)

“Astarion, I know you take me for a fool, and I would normally pay more respect to a man—elf—my senior by centuries, but really. I can be practical and have a moral compass, and that means that when the choice is between lying and killing, I will pick lying any day, even if I don’t like it.”

Enough.

Her words incense him, annoyance suddenly turns into rage and something else—what’s that, envy?—he pivots on his left heel and closes the distance between them so fast she has no time to react. Zélie is left pinned to the wall, their bodies a breath away from touching, and he internally celebrates the surprised look on her face.

He stares at her down his nose, ducking his head and planting a slender hand on the wall beside her head.

Astarion has to make her stop before he tears her self-righteousness out of her throat. Before she realises how useless it all is—how useless and tainted he is—and either stakes him or banishes him. Because even her sickly, do-gooding self, fake or real it be, must have limits. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll crumble, and then he’ll be proven right. She is not what she says she is because creatures like that aren’t real.

“Let’s make one thing clear, darling,” he growls, nostrils flaring, “you may be our great leader, but you should get off your high horse before someone shoots you off it. I don’t know what perfect little corner of the universe you grew up in, but you know nothing of this world and its dangers.”

He flashes his fangs at her to drive his point across. The others are out of sight, looking for supplies in some ruin or cellar. Gods, he misses the city.

Zélie is staring back at him, bristling, but lets him continue. She never interrupts any of them, not even him.

“I thought humans were all about developing and living fast, but you, my dear, are as ignorant as a babe. I am trying to make sure we keep our collective hides safe and do not get sidetracked by other pitiful creatures on our path.”

He realises just how close he is to her when she straightens up again and their noses almost touch.

Pale eyes go darker with a flash of anger.

There. Come at me. Prove me right.

“Spoken like a true man of the law, lord magistrate.”

Why the hells is her tone so collected when she has a literal vampire at her throat?!

“You seem forgetful, so I’ll remind you that it was my ignorance that stopped Shadowheart from connecting her mace with your head. And it was my stupidity that convinced her you could join us, and that we should give you a chance at trust.”

She makes no move to get closer, but he recoils as if scorched by fire.

“And it is the same trust I placed in you yesterday when I let you bite me, even though it’s not how I envisioned a night of rest to go. I trusted you to stop, I trusted you to keep your word and not leave me a corpse.”

There it is. Reminding him of what he owes her. Of his debts. They say the quiet ones are the most depraved, and she is the strong and silent type. But he is nothing if not an expert in the art of subservience at this point, and if it gets her to keep giving him blood and protection—

“I trust you.”

Then you’re doomed.

She says it as if it were a challenge. Her gaze is unwavering and he is left speechless yet again. Cazador would admire this quality of hers.

“I hope you can trust me in return.”

Impossible woman.

“Well, I suppose you’re not wholly incompetent,” he manages to croak out. His nonchalant mask is harder to slip on this time.

She huffs a breath of a laugh, a tiny thing, but it’s enough to transform her whole face. The weight she carries on her deceivingly flimsy shoulders seems to lift, leaving behind a young woman smiling softly at a…well, a monster. Talk about inexperience.

Happiness suits you, little leader.

The fact it’s his prattling that caused this marvel of a transformation stokes something in chest and in the pit of his stomach that he promptly pushes down.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Zélie says. She moves away and he is left staring at the crusty wall. Her body never touched his own during their exchange.

Wait. That’s wrong. He was meant to make her see the reason in his ways, not the other way around. So why is he at her heels like a lost puppy the minute she walks away?

(“You are nothing by yourself boy. You owe everything to me.”)

He is weak. So weak he has leashed himself to a human who can barely read common, fuck's sake.

His temper rises again once he catches up with Zélie. He doesn’t need her condescension, nor her chiding (she doesn’t even know his full story yet, nor she ever will unless absolutely necessary, so pity isn’t there yet). He’ll show the wretched woman how wrong she is.

Karlach and Lae’zel jog behind them as they reach a barn with a door locked shut. Zélie thinks nothing of it at first, but Astarion can smell what’s inside.

(His senses born anew from her blood.)

He smells the ogre and bugbear and their horrid affair before the rest of his companions hear the grunts and noises.

“Oh God, someone’s fighting!” exclaims Zélie.

Fighting, you say?

An idea strikes him.

See what your misplaced goodness gets you when you try to help an ogre.

“I don’t know soldier, they don’t sound like fight noises to me,” says Karlach leaning towards the barn, but even she seems unsure. Astarion’s talents may be limited to a specific area, but in this case it works in his favour. He is very familiar with what those sounds mean. The half-ogres that fucked him into the bed so hard he bled were not so different.

(He still remembers how much it hurt, how he was left in a puddle of mixed releases, sweat, and what little blood he had).

“Well, even if they are fighting, it is clearly not our problem. I say we leave them to it and focus on what’s really important,” he says, using his annoyance as a hook. Zélie may be the most restrained person he’s come across, but he knows how to read people, and he knows she will do the opposite of whatever he says when it concerns morals.

She falls for it. His smile is harder to suppress.

“Astarion! We’ve just talked about this!”

Her voice raises a bit, but it’s almost eclipsed by another loud grunt from inside the barn.

“So long as my blade can be sharpened on my enemies’ bones, I am ready.” Lae’zel is almost as ignorant as Zélie when it comes to their world, which is usually a hindrance, but now it’s the push their little leader needs to run to the rescue.

Zélie tries to open the barn door (after cutting another withering look at the vampire lazily strolling at her back), finding it jammed.

The crescendo of grunts and bangs coming from inside is extremely loud now.

Gods, they must be disgusting.

“Hello?! Help is on the way, hang on!” the little human shouts as she frantically tries to get the door unstuck.

“Oh hells, let me do it, darling, before we turn into tentacled freaks,” Astarion says in mock-annoyance. She eyes him suspiciously and he shoots her a winning smile. His nimble hands make quick work of the lock, and he pushes the door open.

He needs just a peek to know his assumption about what was happening in the barn is correct, and turns to face his now horror-stricken companion.

“Gods, they are disgusting,” he comments with his lips crooked in a satisfied smile.

Zélie scrambles to compose herself and turns her back from the scene (the prudish) as she fails to find words to explain herself. “I—I am, I apologise, we thought—”

Oh, she’s in a state. Her cheeks flush redder than rubies (he can practically hear her delicious blood pooling there), whilst the rest of her is paler than after Astarion’s feeding. She opens and shuts her eyes as if trying to physically erase what she just witnessed.

The bugbear slides his now soft cock out of the ogre, and looks at them in rage.

“W–what the hells are you doing?!”

Oh, Astarion is thrilled. He doesn’t remember when last had such fun. He hears Lae’zel’s tsk’ and Karlach’s gags behind him, and he closely watches Zélie fumbling as he didn’t think was possible.

“Apologies! I, you—you were making a lot of noise and I, we, thought you needed help,” she holds her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “I apologise for the intrusion! We’ll leave now—”

“Ruined! SMASH. I’ll smash you!”

Oh. Astarion didn’t expect that. He just wanted to show Zélie how ungrateful the world is to idiots like her, not have her turn into orc food.

Before he can think, he is tackling the woman to the ground, the orc’s club crashing a few spaces to his left. Karlach and Lae’zel’s throw themselves at the aggressor, and the fight starts in earnest. Astarion is more a stalker than a fighter, but he had his first fill of human blood only hours before, and his senses have never been that sharp, so he doesn’t miss the bugbear rushing towards their prone form.

Daggers at hand, he braces to parry the onslaught (this may hurt) when his worldview shifts, his back in on the ground, and chilly afternoon air replaces the heat of his leader on his chest.

What just happened?

He turns his head to see the bugbear crashing to the ground, Zélie crouched on one leg and tripping him with her other. “Go help the others! I’ve got this!” she shouts, as she wraps her limbs around the assailant in a tight bind. “Wait! It was an honest mistake—”

He doesn’t want to hear her voice now. Doesn’t want to think how the little moron literally threw him away from danger. Even worse, he will refute the idea he protected her from an angry orc till his last breath. He only got his body back recently. That’s it. He still is unsure of how to use it.

And she's dinner.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what happened, so he nods and throws himself at the female orc while she is distracted by his companions.

The fight doesn’t last too long after that, and something takes a hold of his insides when he looks at Zélie. She is silent, staring at the large corpse on the ground, bugbear knocked out at her feet.

“Darling?” He moves towards her and the sadness in her eyes almost makes him apologise. Gods, what has he done? He didn’t think this was going to happen. And why does he care?! This was his intent, this and seeing the real her behind the strong, polite facade.

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know, darling. I—”

See now, how impossible it is to keep your ideals in this world?

“You knew,” she says, and while he words his excuses (the only real one being he didn’t think they were going to be attacked) her shoulders drop and a defeated huff leaves her mouth. A far cry from her happy smile earlier.

Astarion can’t wrap his head around how he caused both reactions in such a short span of time. But this look on her, this, he knows. He has seen far worse in the eyes and screams of those fools he lured back to his master, once they had his way with him and realised a bit too late they were as trapped as he was.

He expects her to shout, to berate him, kick him, punch him, stab him, banish him—but none of that comes. Zélie studies him intently, and something in her demeanour lights up, an internal judgement made.

“I still trust you.”

No. No no no, he’s not going to let her fool him into believing this—no!

Her face is suddenly level with Astarion’s knees, the now-awake bugbear readying a strike.

Astarion doesn’t need to think—he falls forward and sinks his dagger into the wretch’s neck. Blood spurts out, but after tasting Zélie’s Astarion has no interest in it; mud compared to a clear sky.

“Soldier!” shouts Karlach, ever the helpful friend. Zélie pants as the dead attacker slides off of her, eye to eye with Astarion again. He can feel her light breath on his face. Karlach pulls her up; he is cleaning his dagger on the bugbear’s clothes when an outstretched hand enters his vision. Hers.

“Come on,” she says, tired but steady again. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Astarion flinches from the hand as if it were a trap (it is always a trap), but Zélie is new territory for him, that much he begrudgingly accepts. She is apparently above the rules of their miserable world because she chooses to trust him, a vampire, a lying one, again.

He takes her hand, bracing for what may come his way, but she just helps him up.

“Thank you, by the way. For saving my life before.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. Don’t fall for—

She wraps her hand around his so delicately he thinks he may break, and shakes it. His thoughts and words are silenced yet again.

“Thank you.”

Fuck.

#bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #oc: zélie #tav oc #astarion #astarion fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #human tav #I still feel bad for the orc and bugbear

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furiousgoldfish · 2 years ago

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How abuse affects your friendships and relationships

Friendships/relationships

Abusive childhood teaches you to stay in abusive relationships

Children of abusive parents are more likely to tolerate abusive friends

Abuse will make toxic friendship feels normal.

Abusive parents teach us to chase people whose love we think we can 'earn' or obtain by removing boundaries and suffering more abuse.

Abuse can trick you into believing you have to love people unconditionally even if they abuse you.

Abusive parents fails to teach you the signs of an abusive relationship.

Abuse makes us scrutinize our own actions and behaviours, but never others'.

Abuse will make you completely disregard subtle red flags in friendships.

Long term neglect can make us long for any kind of attention

Neglect makes us extra vulnerable to Love Bombing and Mirroring

Abuse makes us vulnerable to Future Faking.

Abuse makes us tolerate more pain than anyone normally would tolerate in a friendship/relationship.

Abuse can teach us that neglect, lack of positive attention and engagement, lack of consideration for our needs and wants, is normal and acceptable in our friendships and relationships, leading us to tolerate it.

Living in abuse and using fantasy and idealism to endure the reality, will encourage the development of Magical Thinking in adulthood.

Abuse makes us emotionally vulnerable to grooming, and likely to bond with groomers.

Abuse makes it impossible to notice the signs of an abusive relationship.

Abuse can groom you to accept and tolerate abuse from others.

Sense of self

Neglect causes low self esteem.

Abuse greatly amplifies the human fear of being unlovable, unwanted and dying alone.

Being raised in abuse can make you feel like you're 'not normal' and make it difficult to relate to people.

Abuse can make you feel like you're a constant inconvenience and always left out.

Abuse forces you to keep secrets that alienate you from friendships or feeling like a part of community

Abuse in isolation makes us feel like the world abandoned us.

Attachment disorders

Abuse can lead to intense, over-attached, idealized, unstable, disorganized, or detached and fragile attachments as opposed to stable and healthy ones with boundaries and realistic expectations.

Neglect can cause abandonment issues, which then cause intense stress, anxiety, insecurity, and overall traumatic response to a break of a friendship/relationship

Neglect can cause craving of being ‘taken care of’ or ‘being the caretaker’ rather than pursuing equal and completely mutual relationships

Abuse can lead you to bond intensely with a 'favourite person' which puts you into a position where you can easily be groomed or exploited, and unable to get out of it.

Abuse leads into idealizing people who show us even the minimum of kindness.

Abuse can make us crave ‘feeling important’ even from abusers

Parentification

Parentification teaches you to take care of other people as a Survival Strategy

Abusive parents can set you up to live as a resource to others

Abuse teaches you to keep your pain secret while tearing yourself apart to care for other's pain.

Socializing

Abuse starves us out of conversation, touch, gentleness, community, and it can be painful to introduce ourselves (back) to it.

Abuse makes casual socializing anxiety-inducing and frightening.

Social abuse can invoke social anxiety.

Abuse can make attention feel dangerous.

Abusive parents can sabotage you socially, making your real entrance into social life only after you get away from them, and by that time you've missed out on valuable development of social skills and you're starting with a disadvantage

Suffering the pain of abuse alone can make you feel like isolating yourself and being away from people is the only safe way to exist.

Suffering long-term abuse can make you intensely doubt people's intentions (and sometimes you might be right).

Abuse can make any criticism in a social situation extremely painful and triggering for us

Abuse can create strict double standards for how we're allowed to live and feel, and what others are allowed.

Intimacy and closeness will trigger emotional flashbacks, painful memories and personal crisis, making you unwilling to try and be close to people.

Long term abuse makes it painful for us to receive or accept comfort.

Abuse can make us feel indebted for comfort.

Abuse makes us feel like we're craving abuse when we're only craving comfort

Abuse makes us look for positive attention in non-effective or dangerous ways.

Abuse can make you blame yourself for any social interaction that hurts you.

Abuse makes us dismiss our own discomfort with others.

#abuse checklist #child abuse #cptsd #abusive relationships #abusive friendships #abusive parents #aftermath of abuse #social abuse #aftermath of neglect #child neglect #toxic relationships #toxic friendships #parentification

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ladyofthebears · 8 months ago

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I am genuinely, consistently confused by people who are team green solely based on the argument that Rhaenyra should have saved Alicent. Not only because the dance of the dragons is meant to directly parallel the Amethyst Empress and the Bloodstone Emperor but also because it seems their arguments are built on this very shakey ground of “Rhaenyra should have stopped her father from marrying alicent and everything that happened after that was because of her inability to act.”

Lets take a second and look at it from both a book and show stand point.

In the book, Alicent is much older then Rhaenyra and consistently has beef with her 8 year old step daughter. Perhaps she was coerced into marrying Viserys, perhaps she was abused in the book, but what was a literal child meant to do about it? A child who just lost who own mother to be placed on the knee of a knew women who tells her to call her “step mother”.

In the show, Rhaenyra and Alicent are at a similar age. In the show, both of them are being taken advantage of and changed by older men. Unfortunately, Alicent is being taken advantage by two man and ultimately is married to Viserys. Rhaenyra had only lost her mother half a year earlier and whilst Alicent was her closest friend, she very obviously felt blind sided and hurt by the revelation. Perhaps if Rhaenyra was older and not so emotionally fraught, she would have been able to take a step back and realise that Alicent was the victim in that situation. Unfortunately, she was also just a girl, a girl who felt alone and now felt her best friend was abandoning her as well. I am not saying Rhaenyra was right to push Alicent away, I am saying her feelings were valid. I think what further made it worse was the fact that Alicent was so quickly giving Viserys everything he had ever wanted- a son. Ultimately, both of these characters are but girls, they make mistakes, they misspeak, they lash out. Rhaenyra distances herself from Alicent not realising Alicent is a victim, Alicent is forced to bear children and bears a healthy boy and is pregnant with another, Rhaenyra feels discarded and unwanted and becomes even more distant and angry. Alicent tries to offer an olive branch but Rhaenyra indirectly insults how Alicent is being forced to live. Granted, Rhaenyra apologises afterwards but those words had to have hurt Alicent. Rhaenyra, in her ignorance of the truth of Alicents situation, cannot move past the apparent betrayal of her best friend. Alicent tries again to bridge the gap but ultimately stumbles and accidentally brings up the fact she had a male heir with no problems, something Rhaenyras own mother was unable to do. And around and around they go, with Rhaenyra and Alicent both tryingbut ultimately alienating eachother. The breaking point is when Rhaenyra is taken to a pleasure house with daemon. You can argue with me all you would like, but Alicent was a victim to Viserys and Rhaenyra was a victim to Daemon. She famously says that they were meant to burn together, but that is only so because Daemon made it so. From a young age, he favours her, he takes liberties with her, he gives her gifts and makes her feel special and scene. He is TEXT BOOK grooming her. So when Rhaenyras uncle (who has always been so special to her and given her rare gifts and indulged her) invites her our for a night of fun, she says yes. And when he initiates sexual contact with her, she reacts. She feels wanted and seen by him, and she is a 17 year old girl coming into her own, and she reacts to his escalation of grooming. And ultimately, when he once again plays with her emotions to make her desire him as he desires her, she leaves and finds her pleasure elsewhere. I am not here to argue about Criston Cole- they were both consenting and whilst one could definitely make an argument about the power dynamic on either side, I am not that person. During the confrontation, Alicent lashes out at Rhaenyra for having freedom she did not have and seemingly squandering it. She immediately is on the attack accusing Rhaenyra of things loudly and harshly. She insults not only Rhaenyra but also Rhaenyras family which she is now a part of. And in doing so, completely alienates herself from Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra, feeling cornered, tells a half truth and evades Alicent. And when Alicent speaks to Criston Cole, she does so softly and kindly. Looking at the two confrontations, it is no wonder one party was more willing to be completely honest as opposed to another.

At the end of the day, Alicent and Rhaenyra started out loving each other. Ultimately they are forced apart by the decisions and actions of men around them until what they had is so broken and unrecognisable it can no longer be fixed.

Alicent, at her core, was a victim. Unfortunately, her pain leads her to continue the cycle of abuse until she is almost unrecognisable from the girl she once was. She over reaches and abuses the excess of power she has from her husband (and rapists) sickness. She instills fear and hatred into her children, and continues her own parental abuse onto them. She became the abuser she once sought to escape.

Rhaenyra, was also a victim. She was much more privileged than Alicent in many ways, which is what allowed her to not be trapped in a loveless and painful marriage as Alicent was. She manages to make the best out of her situation, loving her husband as a life partner and not a lover. She breaks the cycle of abuse started by Targaryens generations before by not marrying her children at 13, by not picking favourites among them, by loving them and teaching them to be honourable boys. She ultimately is caught in the trap of her groomer and marries him, and he unsurprisingly abuses her. Whilst he fought for her and stood by her side, he ultimately hurt her too. Rhaenyra spent her entire life feeling discarded and alone, first by her father, then by her mothers death, then her friends apparent betrayal, by her uncle time and time again coming and going and speaking ill of her dead brother and taking his egg, by the realm once Aegon is born. She manages to be a healthy and loving parent despite her very obvious abandonment and attachment issues.

Unfortunately, all the children grow under their respective parents cycles, and the dance happens because ultimately, evil men did evil things.

Rhaenyra was a girl. A girl who could not realise her friend needed saving, a girl who felt alone. And Alicent was a just a girl, a girl forced into a widowers bed by her father, a girl who only knew pain until she thought it was normal and expected. They both deserved so much better at such a young age.

But ultimately everyone must grow up and change, and they changed so much and grew so separately, they could never again fit together as they once did.

#house of the dragon #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #baela targaryen #helaena targaryen #alicent hightower #daemon targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #dance of the dragons #anti daemon targaryen #anti greens #anti otto hightower #anti aegon ii targaryen #anti aemond targaryen #anti viserys i targaryen #anti men

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lord-and-master · 19 days ago

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My Dearest Enemy [7]

◤• Commander Peepers x Reader • ◢

╰┈➤ This is not slow burn at all and with a serious tone (just saying!). This is THE SEVENTH CHAPTER, you can read the rest here:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/222059481-my-dearest-enemy

Chapter Seven: They Keep On Coming

The second-in-command of Lord Hater's army sat in his small, dark cell, his eye narrowed with anger. He had been in there for days, and he was absolutely furious. There was no way that his leader, his friend, really had the gall to lock him up like a common criminal. It was ridiculous, comical in a sense even. However, it didn't stop the small watchdog from cursing at himself for daring to stand up to his superior.

After all, it was his fault that he ended up in such a humiliating place.

And so, Peepers was seething in his cell, his tiny fists clenched tightly. He paced back and forth, the cold, hard walls of the prison doing little to temper his fury. His small frame was shaking with anger, his eye red with frustration. The atmosphere was tense, the air heavy with the weight of his bottled-up emotions. The alien was completely, unwaveringly pissed off and it was evident in every inch of his form.

"Great job, Peepers! Way to show your superior how loyal and respectful you really are!" He raised his voice, the unwanted situation making him lecture himself.

The walls echoed back his sarcastic voice, a cold reminder of his current circumstances. He was trapped like an enemy, all because he dared to speak his mind. It was a ridiculous situation, a hysterical and humiliating one and it only added fuel to his already blazing anger. But deep down, he knew that he had pushed Hater too far, crossed a line he couldn't cross... or at least the skeleton couldn't tolerate.

Peepers sighed, rubbing a hand to his head, and continued pacing. His thoughts were as restless as he was. He remembered his outburst, his defiance, and the cold, angry expression on his superior's face. He could still feel his heart beating fast, the memory triggering his pent-up frustration. He muttered to himself, cursing his own stupidity and stubbornness. "Great, just great." he mumbled, self-loathing dripping from his tongue. "You just couldn't keep your mouth shut, could you?"

With his tone more sorrowful, the echo of his footsteps sounded mocking and harsh in the cramped space. He was isolated and alone with nothing to do but stew in his degradation. His mind kept replaying the moment, the one where he should have kept his composure, but instead, he allowed his emotions to get the best of him. It wasn't just disappointment in himself, there was also a tinge of bitterness toward his leader.

Hater, the Lord he admired and respected so much, had locked him away without a second thought. Like he truthfully didn't mean anything to him.

Their companionship meant nothing.

His devotion meant nothing.

H̷i̷t̸ ̷l̶o̸y̴a̴l̷t̸y̴ ̷m̶e̶a̵n̵t̴ ̸n̵o̶t̷h̸i̶n̴g̸.̶

As that thought crossed his mind, a spark of defiance began to stir within him. Anger replaced his previous feelings of self-loathing and self-blame. He was the Commander, for Grop's sake. The egoistical skeleton was the one who was acting like a petulant child, not him. His words were justified. His outrage was too. "If Hater wants to act like a child, then so be it!" He said to himself, his displeasure bubbling up higher as he crossed his arms. "THAT'S FINE BY ME!"

But he glared at no one.

He was alone.

As he stood there, seething in his frustration, Peepers began to notice just how quiet and still the prison he found himself in was. The only sound he could hear was the steady echo of his own breathing. The complete lack of any kind of stimulation made his situation feel even more bleak.

He glanced up at the small window in the cell wall. It was letting in a feeble, almost laughable amount of light, not enough to see by, but enough to highlight the cramped, dank nature of his new accommodation. The bars were thick, and the iron looked ancient and unwavering. There was no getting through them, not without serious tools and a lot of time.

And Peepers had neither.

"Yeah, right." He muttered to himself. "Like there's any chance of escaping this place. Hater would never let a cell be weak enough to be escaped from-"

Oh wait. He would.

The second-in-command nearly smacked his forehead. "Of course!" He shook his head at his own obliviousness. "That orange weirdo and the zbornack escape all the time, how could I forget that? But..." He looked around the place with a critical eye, trying to find any signs of weakness. "I don't see any loose bars, or holes, or anything that would allow for easy escape." He stood up and began prowling around, running his hands over the stone walls and searching for any hidden chinks or faults. But no matter how many times he circled the tiny space, he couldn't find anything that would help him.

"Curses." He placed his hands on his hips, stomping his foot impatiently. Of course Hater would make sure his cell was rock solid and unbreakable, while those two idiots could escape their with ease. Figures.

The irony and unfairness of the situation only added to the watchdog's mounting anger. He was the skeleton's most loyal (well not anymore) and competent Commander, and yet there he was, stuck in prison with no chance of escaping. "Unbelievable!" His hands balled into fists as his eye narrowed in irritation. "This is ridiculous! I didn't even know we had a prison like this! How come we never used it on them?!"

Even in a situation like that, he once again was reminded how incompetent his leader was.

"Unacceptable." He grumbled, his mind racing with plans and schemes, trying to find an escape route, any way out of that humiliating predicament. But the more he thought about it, the more impossible the task seemed. "There has to be a way out of here." He said, more to himself than to anyone else. "A weak spot, a crack in the wall, something."

He went back to the wall and started searching again, his fingers tracing over every crevice and crack in the stone. He knocked at different spots, listening for any changes in sound that might indicate a hollowness, an opening, anything that could lead to an escape route. But no matter how many times he went over the same ground, he found nothing. Not a loose stone, not a gap in the mortar, not even a hint of a chink the cell's structure.

Frustrated, Peepers slammed his fist against the wall, the impact sending a jolt of pain up his arm. "THIS CAN'T-" He gritted his teeth and let out a growl of irritation, his anger and desperation growing by the second. "HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?!" He yelled, his voice echoing off the cold walls. "How did Hater build the perfect prison, one that not even a watchdog can escape from?! It's not logical! It's not right!"

"Oh, trust me, he didn't build the perfect cell."

Wait. Who was that?

...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!" The commander jumped in the air, terrified. "WHAT-?!" He wheeled around, his eye widening when he heard the mocking tone. Though the moment his gaze landed on the person, the tension fell from his veins, and his eyelid moved down as his orb narrowed in annoyance.

___, of course.

The human woman was leaning casually against the metal door, her arms crossed and a sly smirk pulling at the corners of her lips. She was dressed in her usual outfit, looking relaxed and at ease in the most casual way possible, her eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and mockery. Something that wasn't all that surprising.

Peepers felt his resolve wavering, the sight of her stirring up a mix of feelings inside him. He steeled himself and cleared his throat, trying not to show his vulnerability. And hoping that she wouldn't comment his.. not-very-commander-like scream. "H-How in the hell do you keep slipping in and out of here undetected?!" He asked, his tone trying to sound authoritative, but the waver in his voice made it clear he was anything but.

To his dismay, she chuckled, her smile growing wider as she pushed off the door and sauntered closer to him. Her footsteps echoed through his small cell, the sound adding to the uncomfortable pang in his chest. "I have my ways." She responded slyly, her eyes fixed on his like a predatory cat.

The small watchdog watched her approach, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Confusion, annoyance, and, unfortunately, a flicker of attraction. Damn her. He gritted his teeth and crossed his arms, trying to maintain his professionalism even though she was getting on his last nerves. Ever since their last encounter he longed for her, but in that situation, he really didn't want to have anything to do with her mocking attitude.

Though the woman paid his frustration no mind, stopping in front of the cell door, one hand on her hip. "I never expected to see you in here." She commented, clearly amused.

Peepers scoffed, trying to put up a cool facade despite the emotions raging within him. "That makes two of us." He muttered, his eye still narrowing at her slender form. He hated the way she was taking pleasure in his predicament and the way she seemed so casually at ease.

At his words she raised an eyebrow. "Really?" Her tongue was absolutely filled with sarcasm, enjoying the sight of the commander alone and helpless. "Because after our last encounter, I assumed you would be in here a lot sooner."

Their last encounter? He remembered it quite vividly. Grop, the thought alone almost made him shiver.

The man bristled at her remark. It was a jab at his loyalty to Hater, a reminder of his weakness and disobedience. He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to hold back a retort. It wouldn't do him any good to get into an argument with her, not in that moment. "And what exactly are you doing here?" He asked, his tone guarded but trying to hide the flicker of curiosity.

She leaned in, looking at him through the bars with a smug expression. "I just wanted to see how you're doing. After all, you were pretty clear about your loyalty to Hater not that long ago." Her eyes were then half-lidded as she reminded him of their last conversation back at his quarters.

His hands clenching into fists, he stepped closer to the bars, his demeanor defensive and a bit defiant. "So you're really going to hold that against me, huh?" He snapped, his voice carrying a hint of irritation. "You're going to come all the way here, right onto the Skullship, just to mock me for trying to salvage my position?!"

The human almost snorted, enjoying the fact she was getting under his skin. "I wouldn't exactly call your current situation 'salvaged'." She gestured in amusement to him. "You're in a cell, after all." As she spoke, she casually traced her fingers along the metal, in an almost patronizing way, watching him closely with a sly expression.

Peepers felt his eye twitch. He wanted to snap back at her, to show that he wasn't as affected by her taunts as she hoped. Unfortunately, she was absolutely right, and he couldn't deny the situation he found himself in. His expression morphed into an angry scowl, his fists balling up at his sides, but he held back a biting retort. "Shut up." He grumbled, his embarrassment making him look away from her sickly delighted gaze.

At that the woman chuckled again, her amusement growing. She was obviously enjoying the situation, his reactions. She leaned forward, resting her chin on one hand and her elbow on the bars, watching him like a predator watches its prey. "I'm just surprised, is all." She said with a hint of mock innocence. "I thought you were Hater's loyal lapdog."

Oh, that little-

"I AM NOT A LAPDOG!" The watchdog retorted, his voice harsh. "I am Lord Hater's Commander, his most loyal and competent officer. I may have made a mistake in standing up to him, but that doesn't change who i am, or the duties I perform for him!" He placed his hands on the sides of his hips and proudly puffed out his chest, closing his scarlet orb in a confident manner.

Though ___ only raised an eyebrow, looking at him with a mixture of interest and doubt. "Is that so?" She said, tilting her head. "And what duties are those, exactly? Fetching Hater's slippers? Polishing his throne? Barking on command?"

Upon hearing her words, the commander's eye flashed with the color red. "THAT'S RIDICULOUS!" He snapped, growing more and more defensive. "I AM NOT SOME DOG, FOLLOWING HATER'S EVERY COMMAND LIKE A MINDLESS SHEEP! I AM A COMMANDER, A MILITARY LEADER! I PLAN AND STRATEGIZE, I LEAD MY SOLDIERS INTO BATTLE, I-"

"Oh really?" She interjected, her voice more taunting. "You 'plan and strategize'? Let's see... You planned to stand up to Hater, even though you knew he wouldn't like it. You strategized yourself into being imprisoned, which was also incredibly genius, by the way."

Grop, how right she was. He hated it.

Peepers gritted his teeth, his temper rising. He had to remind himself not to snap, not to let her bait him further. "My actions might have been... misguided." He admitted, visibly still defensive. "But I am Hater's right-hand, his commander. My loyalty doesn't waver easily!" He stood up tall, trying to show her that he, in spite or recent events, believed in his role and dedication to the electric skeleton.

"It's all just a minor setback." He continued, trying to keep his voice steady and confident. "I will be back at Hater's side in no time!" With that he crossed his arms, trying to appear composed even though inside, his mind was a whirlwind. The situation was embarrassing, the mockery annoying, and the human's continued presence was distracting. Truthfully, it was all a bad combination and the watchdog didn't enjoy it in the least.

And yet as he looked at her, meeting her sly gaze, a different kind of feeling was beginning to grow within him. A flicker of doubt, a hint of confusion. Her words were getting to him, her pure existence unsettling him in ways he didn't want to admit. And so he forced himself to focus, to shake off the thoughts she was stirring inside of his villainous heart.

He took a deep breath, his fists then clenched by his sides. She was just a smug, annoying human, a constant thorn in his side. Nothing more, nothing less. Just a pesky threat that needed to be dealt with. "Enough of your taunting." He snapped, trying once again to sound authoritative. "I won't let you get the better of me." With that he gazed at her, his eye still narrowed.

There was no way that he would crumble. No way.

The woman tilted her head slightly in response to his declaration, a small smile tugging at her lips as she crouched down to look into his eye on the same level. "Is that so?" And with that, she grabbed his uniform through the bars and pulled him towards herself, her mouth crashing with his in a passionate kiss.

W-What?!

Peepers' surprise was palpable. Her confidence, her audacity and tenacity, it was everything he found infuriating, but he also couldn't deny the attraction he felt toward her. He hated the power she had over him, the pull she had over his senses, the way she could make him forget everything and melt into her touch. That's why he pushed against her, trying to regain some control, but he soon found himself powerless. The sensation turning his brain into mush, as a giant fog covered his logical thought.

The act of affection lasted for what felt like eternity. His mind spun with the mixture of his anger, frustration, annoyance, and the growing desire that she always seemed to ignite within him. He despised himself for it, for being so weak. For the way his body responded to her without his permission. It wasn't right. He was breathless, his thoughts nonexistent. His hand gripped the cell bars, trying to find something solid to ground his small form. But her lips had overpowered his senses, making him unable to focus on anything else.

In a way, it was comforting.

But... he knew that it was also wrong.

He broke away from her with a gasp, trying to catch his breath, to compose himself. His mind was a jumbled mess, his emotions at war within him. The kiss had left him unsteady, wanting to keep sucking those sinful lips, but he knew better. He knew he had to be the smart one, the one who saw past the woman's charm. Though his scarlet orb kept wandering back to her mouth, her cocky and smug expression, the teasing glimmer in her eyes.

Hater was his friend, his leader, his ally through countless battles and conquests. For years he longed for any sort of appreciation from the skeleton. He owed his allegiance to him, and yet, there he was, kissing a human who was trying to convince him otherwise. It didn't make sense, but he was struggling to find the will to resist. He was a devoted commander, even if he dared to stand up for himself once. His loyalty should never waver.

However, she was making him question it.

___'s orbs narrowed at his reaction, her smile growing wider. She knew he was fighting inside. She could see the flicker of doubt, the hints of conflict within. He was already wavering, the desire she sparked was clouding his judgment and it was making her proud of herself. She realized that she had already gotten to him, to those deep, buried desires he had. "You were saying, Commander?" She teased, her voice filled with satisfaction.

Hearing her words, the sides of his eye started to flare with a familiar pink tint.

Peepers found her smug expression and acts irritating. He hated how amused she looked, acting like she had already won. He had to maintain his composure, prove that she hadn't already pierced through his walls. Inside of him was a need to say something, anything, to defend himself and his devotion to Hater. But his mind was conflicted, his heart racing, his breath still coming in short gasps after being kissed by her.

He loathed how she made him feel.

With a quick blink, he muttered, his voice a mix of anger and blame. "This is your fault." It was so easy to say that, but harder to think. "If you hadn't come here, if you hadn't... opened my eye... I would still be blissfully ignorant, blindly loyal to Hater." A sigh escaped his nonexistent lips as he leaned his head against one of the bars. "You've messed everything up, ruined it."

He clenched his fists, his orb narrowing slightly. He wanted to blame her, to cast her as the villain, the reason for his current predicament. But deep down, he knew it wasn't that simple. She wasn't entirely to blame, she was just the catalyst. The spark that had ignited the fire of doubt and rebellion within him. Something that existed long before he even knew her, but didn't have enough courage or time to admit.

"You just waltz in here, causing chaos and upheaval where you go!" He went on, his gaze moving to her tall form as he spoke. "You turn everything upside down, you mess with peoples' heads!" His eye darted in panic across her features, searching for something, anything that could prove that he wasn't just delusional. "You're- You're meddling, manipulative, dangerous!" He spat the last word like it was venom on his tongue, but even if so, deep inside he didn't quite believe it himself. It didn't make sense.

He took a step closer to the bars, his eye locked on hers. "And yet... I can't stop thinking about you. Ever since the first time we met, I can't get you out of my mind. I keep replaying our conversations in my head, I keep thinking about what you said about me, about Hater, about us..." Peepers felt his anger draining away, replaced by a mixture of confusion and vulnerability. He shouldn't be admitting these things, he should be maintaining his distance, his pride. But he couldn't help it.

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

"Why are you doing this to me?" He asked, his voice frustrated and helpless. "Why do you have this... effect on me?" There was a hint of confusion, but also affection. Something he didn't exactly wish for her to know, and yet he felt the need to say it either way. "It's like every time I see you, every time I hear your voice, everything just... stops making sense."

Ẃ̸͔͗̈͑̓̍ẖ̶͂̒̋̓̿̏̿ý̷͈͉̪͙͓̹͑̂͑́͒̊?̸̢̟͕͍͋̀

Peepers' words echoed around them, the confessions pouring out of him like a dam breaking. And all the while, ___ watched him, her cold eyes seeing right through his carefully constructed defense. She didn't talk, she just listened, her mannerism nonchalant. There was not a single hint of emotion hiding behind her expression. Truly, it was quite... strange.

But then, she laughed.

The watchdog froze, his orb widening at the sound of her unexpected hysterics. He had expected a biting retort, another mocking comment, but not that. And what scared him the most was that the sound was both irritating and beautiful, the thought alone sent a chill down his spine. "What- What are you laughing at?" He asked, clearly puzzled. "This isn't funny, I'm-"

Before he could finish his sentence, she stepped closer, her gaze locked on his. Her smile was both mocking and sultry, her voice a whispered tease. "Isn't it obvious, Commander?" She tilted her head, the smile never leaving her lips. "I'm laughing at you."

For a second, everything stood still.

Peepers' heart skipped a beat at her declaration, her sudden proximity sending a rush of heat through his body. He was taken aback by her audacity, yet he couldn't deny the thrill that shot through him as she leaned in towards him, her body just inches away from his own. It was one of these moments that he couldn't really understand her, no matter how much he wished he could. It was a desire, not only to acquire knowledge but to also find out her thinking process. She was a human, he didn't know how her race worked, he's never met one before. And additionally, she was the only person that made him question everything.

How bizarre was that?

The woman noticed his dazed expression and it only made her smirk widen as she continued speaking. "You just spent all this time complaining about how I've disrupted your life, how I've made everything a mess." She said. her tone still amused. "And yet, here you are, practically confessing your feelings for me." It was a low, seductive murmur in his invisible ear, something that made him shiver unknowingly.

His villainous heart started hammering in his chest, his breath catching in his throat at her words. He hadn't quite realized how close she was, how her breath was brushing against his face. All of that was too much for him to handle. He wanted to deny it, to protest her ridiculous claim, but somehow the observation was hard to ignore and his mind was reeling. "I-I'm not 'confessing' anything!" He tried feebly, his voice betraying his fluster. "You're twisting everything I say to fit your narrative."

He didn't have any 'feelings' for her, did he?

That would be impossible. He was a villain, not some hopeless romantic!

Though the warmth on his cheeks surely said otherwise.

"Oh, really?" She questioned with a sly smile. "So you're saying you don't have the thought of me swirling around your mind on a regular basis?" As she spoke, she leaned even closer, her lips hovering just a hair's breadth away from his. The movement alone reminded him of the kiss they shared just moments ago, his mind filling with the memory. "And you don't feel the slightest hint of... attraction towards me?" She continued, her voice dripping with mockery and desire.

The watchdog felt his resolve weakening with each word, everything sending a mixture of embarrassment and... something more through him. He found himself leaning closer, as though he was pulled towards her by a magnetic force. It was irritating and intoxicating at the same time, and he hated it. "Don't be ridiculous." He growled, trying to sound defiant but it came out as a pathetic whisper. "I would never feel..." His voice trailed off, his eye meeting hers. That mocking gaze of hers alone sent a jolt of electricity through him, he could feel the tension between them thickening with each passing second.

___ could see the flicker in his scarlet orb, the hesitation and frustration. No matter how much he tried to deny it, she knew she had him right where she wanted him. She could see the internal conflict swirling within him, the confusing thoughts and emotions that she stirred. "You can deny it all you want." She whispered, her tone like silk. "But your body can't lie to me, Commander." As she spoke, her hand reached through the bars, cupping his chin, her touch making him shiver. It was like a drug, something that made his mind spin. "And you could have all this if you just let go of your little loyalty."

Her words felt like a siren's song, tempting and alluring. She was offering him something forbidden, something that went against everything he stood for. Not only power, but also herself. It was strange, sweetly horrible, and yet the desire to give in felt unbearable. His mind was a mixture of anger, lust, and the fear of betraying his leader, a raging storm.

"You have the potential for so much more than serving that idiot." She continued, her voice low and persuasive. "You're a brilliant tactician, a natural leader. You could rule the galaxy far more efficiently and effectively than Hater ever could." It was a pierce through his defenses, hitting their mark with painful precision.

He could almost see the image she was painting in his head, the galaxy at his feet, under his control, with the skeleton defeated. The power, the satisfaction of ruling in his own right, it was- No. "You're tempting me." He muttered, conflict and desire rolling off his tongue. "You're making me question everything, it's... wrong." He pulled back slightly, even as her touch tempted him to come closer, to give in.

Her lips turned into something resembling a pout, though softer. "Why is it wrong?" She whispered, her hand staying exactly where it was, refusing to let him create any space between them. She was close, so teasing, so alluring. "Why is it wrong to want to rule? To seek power? To become the ruler of the galaxy instead of just Lord Hater's loyal lapdog?" Her words were as dangerous as her touch. She was telling him the very thoughts he had tried to push away, the dark fantasies he had refused to admit to himself.

And they were starting to work.

"Imagine it." She murmured, it was a seductive sound in his ear. "All the power you could wield, all the planets at your feet. You could make things right, impose order and justice, rule with an iron fist."

Peepers felt a shiver run down his spine, her sultry tone sending bolts of heat and excitement through his tiny form. The more she talked, the more power and glory she was describing, it called to him. Spoke to the dark, hungry part of him that longed for control and dominance. The image in his mind alone was enough to make him crave more.

Seeing his reaction, she continued. "And I would be there, at your side." Her voice dropped lower, more intimate. "As your advisor, your partner, your... enforcer." Her words were like a symphony, playing him like a musical instrument. He felt his resolve beginning to crumble as her hand started moving down on his chest and lower, the heat within him growing with each sentence. She was offering him everything he wanted, and he was desperately conflicted. The part of him that craved control and power couldn't help but salivate at the proposal, but a stubborn part of him still clung to loyalty, to his devotion.

He needed to resist.

"Think about it." She continued, her tone a seductive purr. "No more taking orders from an incompetent fool, no more being pushed around like you're expendable. You would be the one giving the orders, making decisions." Saying that, her fingers moved down, resting against the tip of his belt. "Wouldn't that feel good?"

Holy Grop. That woman was intense.

The watchdog, finding a shred of clarity amidst the whirlwind of emotions, forced himself to speak, his voice a tense whisper. "Why?" He asked, his eye locking on hers. "Why are you offering me this?" He felt a flicker of suspicion, a hint of confusion. He needed to understand her motives, to be sure it wasn't some elaborate trap. The feeling and effects of her touch still lingered, his body tensing as she continued her seduction. She was speaking his desires, but he had to be cautious. He wasn't so lost to her allure that he didn't have his doubts, his suspicions, his questions. "Why would you want to offer me power, help me rule?" He asked, his tone tinged with doubt. "What's in it for you?"

His inquiry hung in the air between them. Her motives, her true intentions were a mystery to him. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease, the thought that she wasn't just a helpful ally. She was a human, a stranger in their galaxy. He needed to be cautious, even though his whole form was responding to her touch and words. He had to make sense of the situation, of her intentions. She was a puzzle, an enigma that he dared to uncover.

However, the question made the woman smirk, her fingers trailing even lower. She was enjoying the effect she had on him, the war raging within. "Isn't it obvious?" She whispered, her hand stopping in place. She let the words hang in the air for a moment, her eyes glimmering with a mix of anticipation and amusement. Leaning in, she traced her fingers over his ahem, and then returned them to his chest. "I want to rule alongside you."

Peepers decided to ignore the sensation she left on his lower body, though the red tint on his cheeks spoke otherwise. Either way, his confusion was growing alongside his desire for power. ___, a human and even a friend of Wander, wanting to rule? It was an unexpected revelation. There had to be more to that, more to her motives. "Why would you want that?" He asked, his voiced laced with suspicion. "You're Wander's friend and you're a human. Why would you want to help me take over the Galaxy?"

Her sly smirk was replaced by a devilish grin as she leaned closer, her body pressing against his as much as it could through the bars. She knew she was getting to him, pushing his suspicion aside with her admission. "Because I want you." She whispered, her declaration loaded with meaning and desire. "I see in you a lust for power and control that you don't let yourself indulge in. With me as your partner... we could rule together."

The alien felt a jolt of excitement mixed with confusion as her words sank in, his heart skipping a beat once more. The was she spoke, her tone, her touch, they were designed to stir him. Her claim of wanting him was unexpected, but it felt like a validation, a testament to her own attraction towards him. But even if so, he couldn't let his emotions cloud his judgment. He had to stay vigilant, no matter the fact that her sentences were like the sweetest poison to his ears. And so he kept his eye fixed on hers, his expression a mix of shock, confusion, and a hint of temptation.

"You..." He started, his voice trailing off, his mind spinning. The idea of him and her ruling together was alluring, way too alluring. A part of him wanted to give in, to take what she was offering. Power, control, and her by his side. But he couldn't shake the suspicions, the doubts. "You, a human, why do you want me to rule?"

Peepers wasn't dumb, he knew about the history of her race, that's why the question was even more important. It didn't make sense for a human to want an alien to be in charge. Because of that his mind was a whirlwind of feelings, his curiosity now rivaling his desire. She was a mystery, a riddle he found both enticing and infuriating.

Though the woman's lips pulled into a satisfied smile in response. Her hand once more started sliding down his chest, her touch lingering. Her admission of wanting him was a clear reminded of her intentions. She was determined to make him hers, to make him realize the potential they had together. "Because I see the leader in you, the one who's been hiding for so long." She whispered. "Power-hungry, dominant, capable. You're the one I want." Her breath was like a kiss against his skin, a sensation that clouded all logical thought.

The watchdog felt her hand, her words hitting him like a punch. Power-hungry, dominant... those adjectives were everything he had craved for so long, the things he had held back. Hearing them from her made his heart beat faster, heat blooming in his chest. She was hitting his buttons, pushing his deepest desires. He tried to maintain his composure, but it was difficult. Yet, he couldn't dismiss his lingering suspicions. He couldn't trust her fully.

Or himself, for that matter.

"You... you think that of me?" He asked, his tone a mix of vulnerability and curiosity. He studied her face, her eyes, searching for any hint of manipulation or deception. After all, nobody ever gave him praise, no one noticed his assets. Knowing that she could, it was like a dream come true.

And she seemed to notice his suspicions, her gaze softening. It was such a stark contrast from her usual sly smirk. It left him reeling, her approach shifting to something different, something pure. And so he continued to gaze into her orbs, trying to decipher her motives, the septum still there but her change throwing him off. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was manipulating him, he wanted to stay wary, but her new tactic was disarming, making his guard falter.

"Don't think so hard, Peepers." She whispered, a sultry chuckle mixed with a hint of amusement. "You get all adorably flustered." As she spoke, her hand reached for his cheek, her touch lingering. It was like a symphony of confusion for him. Her words were honeyed, her touch a subtle act of control. He wanted to resist, but her attempt at softness was like a velvet trap, pulling him into its warmth. "You don't have to resist." She continued in a soothing tone, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. "Just say yes." Her voice so close that he could feel her breath against his neck, could smell her sweet, intoxicating scent. "Say yes, Peepers. Come with me."

The feeling of her touch and fragrance was dizzying, a mix of arousal and unease. He tried to resist her charms, his instincts screaming at him to run, to not fall for her manipulations. But her words, her voice, her proximity... it felt like she was wrapping him in a web of temptation, her offer like the most enticing poison.

He swelled, his breath hitching at her closeness. His eye trailed across her features, from her face to her body. He didn't understand it, didn't understand how a human, one that he didn't even know that well, could make him question his whole life. She was a toxin, a forbidden fruit that he shouldn't think of eating. And yet... he felt the tug at her proposal, the allure of it all.

In that moment his defenses crumbled, leaving him bare to her advances.

He couldn't deny it any longer.

"Yes." He said quietly, his voice barely audible. It was like a breath of surrender, a small admission against his better judgment. He was giving in, letting himself hope that it was real.. that she wasn't just taking control of him. The watchdog didn't know what the future held, didn't know the dangers that her offer could bring. But he couldn't push away his desires, not with her so close, her words so sweet, her touch so tempting.

He was caught, and deep down, he wanted to be.

The human leaned back slightly, a satisfied smile spreading across her face, her lips curling around a smirk. She had him. His declaration, his surrender, it was the victory she wanted, the opening she needed. But, she had to make sure he was completely caught, completely and utterly hers. And so, her hand gently caressed his face (eye), her touch soft and inviting, her orbs locked on his. "Good choice, Commander." She whispered, the sound filled with a mixture of triumph and desire.

She felt the tension between them, the heat of the moment, and she intended to keep him wrapped around her finger. With that in her mind, she leaned in once more, her lips pressing against his... eyelid (?). She still didn't understand how a kiss between a watchdog and a human worked, but oh well, it was good either way. However, contrary to their previous sharing of saliva, the one she started then was softer, almost vulnerable.

Peepers felt a new kind of heat spreading through him as her lips pressed against his, a pure sensation that sent shivers up his spine. It felt different, softer, almost affectionate. The contrast with their previous, passion-filled kisses was jarring, and it left him momentarily dazed. He leaned into the gesture, the sensation so different from everything they shared before. He couldn't believe how it was happening, how her presence was making him forget everything else in the whole world.

Her kiss, her touch, it was addictive, like a symphony playing in his ear. He could barely think straight, barely find the words or coherent thoughts in his mind. He had completely given in to the temptation, the desire she ignited in him. He wanted more, to get lost in her embrace. And so he pressed his body against hers, his hand reaching for her arm, trying to pull her even closer. "Don't hold back." He whispered softly, his voice hoarse with desire. He couldn't believe how much he craved her, how desperate he had become for her touch, her words, her proximity.

And she could sense the surrender in his movement, his sentence. His desires mirrored hers, his body pressed against hers in an attempt of closeness, a silent plea for more. Her lips curled slightly into a smirk as she lost herself in the sensation. "Don't hold back." She echoed, her mouth lingering against his eye. Before he could react, she deepened the kiss. It was then deeper, hungry, tinged with a mix of dominance and passion, as if she was marking a claim over him, making him hers.

The watchdog felt the intensity of the gesture, the lust and control. When she pulled away, he felt a flicker of disappointment, but it was quickly replaced with relief as he saw her stand, her focus clear. He tried to regain his composure, his mind a mix of emotions. He was in too deep already, he knew it. And so he watched her, his scarlet orb holding a hint of anticipation, of eagerness to see what she planned next.

With a determined glint in her eyes, the human female stood up. She knew exactly what she had to do. She needed to get him out of the cell, take Hater out, and claim the ship for their plan to move forward. And so she spoke, her voice low and commanding. "Stay here, Commander." Her eyes burned with fire, a flame of calculation, and something else.

Before he could retort, say that 'Of course he'll stay there, he can't escape on his own!', he could only watch as she disappeared in the darkness. Her sudden display of dominance had him stunned, a part of him wanting her to return right then and there. He was a little irritated at himself for his own weakness, for how easily he had succumbed to her allure. And so he stood in the silence, her presence leaving a strange void behind. He hated not knowing what she had in mind, but he trusted her, his suspicions put on hold for now.

But then...

"PEEEEEEPERS!" A loud, booming voice, echoed in the distance.

The watchdog's heart sank as he recognized the voice. Hater. The very person he had been plotting to betray, it was like he knew about the whole conversation with the human, coming exactly as they finished. But Peepers pushed the thought aside, plastering a stoic expression on his face, not wanting to show any signs of weakness. He mentally prepared himself for the imminent confrontation, bracing for the skeleton's usual brand of mockery and taunting.

However, it would soon end.

The door to the prison opened, and Hater strode in, a smug smile on his face. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite little Commander." He stopped in front of the small alien's cell, peering in at him with a mix of amusement and condescension. Though as he noticed the silence of his subordinate and the defiant glare, he let out a chuckle. "Look at you, trying to be tough. HA!" He leaned in closer to the bars, his smile widening. "But I can see right through you, Peepers. You're just hiding that you're shaking in your wittle boots." He placed a finger on his cheek and did a stupid pose, fake tears welling up in his eyes... and also sticking his backside out in a comical way.

Peepers bristled at the condescending tone and obnoxious gestures. It was exactly the kind of behavior that had driven him away in the first place. He clenched his fists, restraining himself from reaching through the bars to smack that stupid smirk off Hater's face. But he kept his composure, refusing to let the skeleton see anything that would show him as pathetic.

"Awww, is lil' Peepers feeling abandoned? Did I hurt your feewings by locking you up?" The 'lord' continued his taunting. He feigned a pout, looking at his second-in-command with exaggerated sympathy. The sight was amusing to him, so sickly sweet that he couldn't stop himself from acting so childish.

Though the watchdog wasn't enjoying the situation, instead he gritted his teeth, his eye blazing with anger. "Save your concern for someone who cares, Sir." He snapped, the title still slipping from his tongue despite his want for rebellion. "I'm more than capable of handling myself."

Hater chuckled at his biting tone, clearly unimpressed. "Oh, I'm not worried Peepers." He said, smirking. "I just thought you might be lonely, you know, since you're all alone in there." With that he leaned on the bars of the cell, his grin growing wider. "But you know what they say." He drawled, his voice dripping with false pity. "When you're alone, you a lot of time to think." Saying that, he reached through the bars and ruffled Peepers' helmet mockingly, knowing how much it irritated him.

The watchdog angrily swatted his hand away, quickly adjusting the top part of his armour. "I don't need your fake sympathy, Sir." He grumbled. "And as for being alone, at least it means I don't have to listen to your constant whining and ego-stroking." With that he moved back, leaning against the wall of the cell, crossing his arms and fixing his superior with a glare. "Besides, I prefer my own company over yours any day."

Though in a different situation, it would be the thing that he longed for.

Hater's smirk wavered slightly, his ego bruised by the biting retort. He also crossed his arms, trying to maintain his cool demeanor. "Is that so, huh?" He retorted. "Well, you know what, Peepers? I don't really care. In fact, I'm glad you're in there. It saves me the trouble of dealing with your annoying advice and nitpicking all the time."

Peepers let out a scoff, rolling his eye at the comment. "Oh please." He sneered. "You would be lost without my advice and nitpicking. You would probably have destroyed the entire galaxy by now if it wasn't for me reminding you to wear your pants every day." Saying that, he could almost feel a smirk forming on his - nonexistent - lips.

The skeleton's face scrunched up in anger at his subordinate's jibe, but he tried to hide it behind a sly smile. "Ha! Yeah, right. I've been doing just fine without you. In fact, things have been a lot less annoying around here since you were locked up!" His tone was confident, but there was a hint of uncertainty in it as well. He knew damn well that ever since he threw his commander in prison they haven't conquered a single planet.

He wouldn't admit it though.

Peepers raised an eyebrow, his head tilting slightly. "I'm sure." He retorted sarcastically. "I bet you've been making all sorts of great decisions without me. Like the time you accidentally turned on the self-destruct switch while trying to program the coffee maker."

The face of his leader reddened at the memory, but he tried to play it off, puffing out his chest. "That was a one-time thing, Peepers!" He protested, his voice indignant. "AND I DIDN'T DO IT ON PURPOSE!"

"Of course, Sir." The watchdog replied dryly. "And I'm sure that the time you launched all of our Eye Fighters into deep space was also an accident, right?"

Hater huffed, his ego bruised by the reminders of his past mistakes. "Well, you know, even the greatest villains make mistakes, Peepers!" He blustered, attempting to defend himself. "At least I'm brave enough to be out there making decision, unlike you, hiding in that cell like a coward!"

An awkward silence followed after his words, but then-

"YOU'RE THE ONE WHO PUT ME IN HERE!!!" The commander jumped in anger.

The skeleton's face turned an even deeper shade of red at Peepers' retort. He let our a frustrated yell, stomping his foot like a child throwing a tantrum. "WELL, YOU DESERVED IT, YOU LITTLE KNOW-IT-ALL!!!" He shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at his second-in-command. "You're always questioning my commands and undermining my authority! You think you're so smart, don't you, Peepers?! But guess what? I'M THE RULER HERE, NOT YOU!"

Peepers didn't back down, his own temper flaring. "AND WHAT A FINE RULER YOU'VE BEEN!" He spat back, the sarcasm rolling off his angered tongue. "Destroying planets, terrorizing innocent people, and crashing your own ships! You act like you're such a big, scary villain, but you're really just a BIG, DUMB CHILD THROWING A TANTRUM!" He threw his hands in the air to emphasize his point.

And it was true, Hater never managed to conquer planets competently. Every time they managed to do it, it was because of the commander only. And even then the skeleton found a way to mess everything up by going after the orange fuzzball like an absolute moron.

But the taller villain only stomped his foot again, his face twisting into a mask of anger. "I AM A GREAT VILLAIN, YOU'RE JUST TOO STUPID TO REALIZE IT PEEPERS!" He bellowed, the sound shaking with suppressed rage. "And just you wait. Once I deal with YOU and YOUR LITTLE FRIEND, I'll show the entire galaxy just how powerful I can be!"

The second-in-command rolled his eye, completely unimpressed by the empty threats. "Good luck with that, Sir." He retorted sarcastically. "Considering the fact that you can't even defeat a furry weirdo with a magic hat, I doubt you'll be conquering the galaxy anytime soon."

Hater's fists clenched at his dismissive tone, his anger reaching a boiling point. "YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" He yelled, his voice rising to a shriek. "Wander is nothing but a little pest! I could beat him any time I want to, I just choose not to! I'm NOT going to waste my time on that little furball!"

Yeah right.

Peepers smirked, thoroughly enjoying getting under his leader's skin. "Oh please." He scoffed, a hint of amusement present in his orb. "We both know you've been chasing after Wander like a lovesick puppy for years now. If you're so powerful, then why haven't you beaten him yet?" Why indeed, it was a question the watchdog asked himself ever since they met that vagabond.

"SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!" He yelled, stomping his foot once more. "I'm warning you, Peepers! If you don't stop with those snarky comment, I'll..." He trailed off, realizing he had no idea what he could do to make the watchdog stop.

At his outburst, the smaller villain raised an eyebrow. "You'll what, Sir?" He goaded, his tone laced with challenge. "Lock me in a cell, perhaps? Oh wait, you already did that." The amused smirk tugging at the corner of his eye was evident.

Hater's face reddened further, his frustration reaching a peak. "I'LL... I'LL... I'LL THROW YOU OUT OF THE AIRLOCK, THAT'S WHAT I'LL DO!"

The second-in-command chuckled at his empty threat, completely unfazed. "Really?" He taunted sarcastically. "And how exactly are you going to do that, hm? I'm locked up in a cell remember?" Of course, the promise could be swiftly done, but the eyeball knew just how dumb and unable to process everything his boss was. And he used that to his advantage.

"I'LL FIND A WAY, FOR GROP'S SAKE!" The skeleton yelled, stomping his foot, again. "Don't think you're safe in that cell just because you're surrounded by bars!"

The watchdog couldn't help but laugh once more, thoroughly entertained by Hater's impotent rage. "Oh, I'm not worried." He replied, his voice casual. "If you're dumb enough to accidentally launch all our ships into deep space, I have no doubt you're capable of purposely launching me into deep space as well."

"SHUT UP, PEEPERS!" The smaller villain was absolutely right and his leader knew it, which made him even angrier, his tone rising to a high-pitched squeak.

Peepers smirked at his childish outburst, clearly amused. "Hit a nerve, did I, Sir?" He taunted, the sarcasm rising once more. "Maybe if you learned how to control your temper, you'd actually accomplish something other than throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old."

Oh no, he didn't just say THAT.

"THAT'S IT!" The skeleton's eyes raged with fury. "WATCHDOGS! OPEN THE CELL!" He yelled out to the soldiers that were outside, taking care of the controls. His orbs were bloodshot and hands enveloped in green, crackling lighting in a split second.

The second-in-command's heart seized with dread as he heard the order, his eye widening in alarm. That wasn't good. He knew Hater's temper was volatile, and him being locked up hadn't exactly smoothed it out. Before he could respond, the entrance to his accommodation beeped and swung open, revealing the menacing leader standing there, his fists enveloped in the color emerald. Involuntarily, the watchdog took a step back, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a plan. He was unarmed and trapped with an angry, power-wielding skeleton. Not exactly a recipe for success. But he couldn't show any fear, not in front of the person he wanted to defeat. So he stood his ground, his scarlet eye narrowed defiantly as he faced his lord.

The taller villain advanced into the small space, the electricity dancing around his hands like a swarm of frenzied bees. His eyes were wild and unfocused, his face twisted into a mask of pure rage. "YOU'VE BEEN NOTHING BUT A CONSTANT ANNOYANCE, PEEPERS!" He growled dangerously. "I've had enough of your sarcasm, your undermining and your ENDLESS nitpicking!!!"

The heart of the watchdog beat faster, every nerve in his body yelling at him to run. His mind was blank, his whole form frozen. He stood his ground, his orb fixed on the man in front of him, refusing to back down despite the overwhelming danger. Hater was unhinged, unpredictable, and Peepers knew he was in a fight that he didn't want. His head raced with possibilities, hoping that he could get out of that without getting seriously injured — or worse.

And so his defiance grew, a surge of confidence flooding him. He was tired of being mocked, demeaned, and underestimated. He was done being a doormat, and he decided in the heat of the moment, that he wasn't going to take his leader's bullying anymore. He straightened up, his fists clenching at his sides.

No more fear.

No more submission.

He wasn't backing down. Not this time.

Peepers clenched his hands even tighter, his resolve solidifying. The time for passivity, for being the "good soldier" was over. He was done playing the submissive part, the obedient second-in-command. It was time to stand up for himself, to prove his worth, to show the skeleton (his friend that he wished would appreciate him), that he was more than just a punching bag, more than just a loyal follower.

The watchdogs outside watched, unable to intervene as Hater advanced, his body thrumming with barely contained rage. The Commander could see the anticipation in their eyes, expecting a one-sided fight. Well, they were in for a surprise. He held his ground, his scarlet orb narrowing even more as his leader (or rather former leader) got closer.

"You're nothing but a thorn in my side, Peepers!" Hater snarled, his voice a mix of anger, irritation and malice. "You've always been here, criticizing me, undermining my authority. You need to learn your place, AND I'M ABOUT TO TEACH IT TO YOU!"

With a deep breath, the smaller villain steadied himself. His heart was hammering in his chest and his fists shook in anticipation of the impending attack. But he didn't let that show. He held the skeleton's gaze, defiance flaring within. "Go ahead, then." He retorted, his tone filled with tension and daring. "Teach me my place. Show me what you've got, Hater."

He didn't even bother calling him 'Sir' anymore.

Hater's eyes narrowed, his face turning into a deep sneer of rage. "OH, YOU ASKED FOR IT, PEEPERS!" He growled, his voice rising in pitch as his temper flared higher. He launched himself at the watchdog, his fists crackling with lighting. "I CAN'T WAIT TO WIPE THAT ANNOYING SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE!"

Fight it.

Fight him.

Her words echoed through his mind.

Peepers reacted on pure instinct, years of training taking over. He sidestepped the attack, narrowly evading the electricity. He felt a jolt of adrenaline, a mix of excitement and anticipation coursing through him. He didn't back away, instead, darted to the side, putting himself in position to counter-attack. He knew fully well that he couldn't fight Hater on a physical level, but he was smart, quick, and he knew his weaknesses. So he had to stay nimble, dodging and striking when he found and opening. He saw the blind rage in his opponents eyes, the lack of strategy, and he knew that was his advantage point.

In the distance however, he heard explosions.

His heart lept in his throat as he heard the loud sound and screams of his fellow watchdogs. It took him a moment to process the realization that it was ___'s doing. His chest swelled, a strange mixture of pride and concern filling him. He knew she was handling the situation, giving him his chance... but that meant she was in danger too. He tried to shake the worry off, focusing on the present, on the battle with his boss.

Hater, though seemingly oblivious to the chaos around him, was too consumed by his anger, his fury, to notice. His attention remained locked on his subordinate, his focus unyielding. He continued his barrage of attacks, his movements clumsy. He didn't question the detonations; his tunnel of vision directed solely at his second-in-command. Blinded by his need to put him in his place, to make him pay for constant criticism, he poured rage into every attack. "YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN TO SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" He shouted, frustration and anger making his tone higher. "ALWAYS TELLING ME WHAT TO DO, ALWAYS DOUBTING MY DECISIONS!"

The watchdog dodged another swing, swiftly moving away from the skeleton's reach. "Maybe it's because your decisions are usually idiotic, and you need someone with common sense to point it out!" He retorted, his voice a mix of irritation and confidence. He kept moving, dancing around Hater's attacks, waiting for his moment.

With a clench of his fists, the 'fearless leader's' face reddened with anger. "YOU! NEVER! SHUT! UP!" He yelled, swinging his hands wildly. He was losing control of his temper, his punches becoming more wild, more erratic. He was focused on landing a hit, on making his subordinate pay for his insolence.

Peepers rolled his eye, the insult and attacks becoming more intense. "Oh please, I'm just stating the obvious!" He replied, his tone rising to match his opponents volume. "If you only stopped and thought for a second, maybe you could actually come up with a halfway decent plan!" He snarled, feeling the tension, the adrenaline mixing with his growing frustration.

Hater's face grew tomato red, his nostrils flaring. "I DON'T NEED YOUR ADVICE!" He roared, leaping at the watchdog, anent on landing a blow. "Every time you open your mouth, it's to tell me how stupid I am! I AM NOT STUPID, PEEPERS!!!" He charged forward, his strike coming in a torrent of rage and lighting.

The Commander side-stepped again, his agility keeping him nimble. "Then stop ACTING stupid!" He retorted, keeping his distance while still looking for an opening. He was dodging, weaving, and talking, his breath getting heavier. His mind kept whirring, assessing the skeleton's moves, desperately searching for that opportunity.

The taller villain paused, his eyes flaring in fury. "I'LL SHOW YOU WHO'S STUPID!" He yelled, his fists crackling with electricity, glowing brighter. His attacks were becoming more unhinged, faster, each one fueled by his anger and desperation to finally land a hit. He launched himself at the smaller opponent, the power cracking around him, aiming to unleash a powerful lighting blow.

But Peepers was quick, dodging the strike just in time, rolling to the side. "Really? Using lighting now?" He called out, his voice tinged with a hint of humor despite the tension. His mind was laser focused, every move calculated, as he tried to dodge and respond to the taunts. He knew he had to keep moving, to keep his mind sharp.

"DON'T MOCK ME, PEEPERS!" The skeleton howled, a vein starting to pop up in his head despite him not having veins (wow). "YOU'RE JUST A WORTHLESS NOBODY WHO HAS TO BELITTLE ME TO FEEL IMPORTANT!" He launched another lighting-charged attack, trying to catch his Commander off guard.

The watchdog evaded the blow, his eyebrow raised. "Worthless?" He almost laughed. "That's rich, coming from someone who can't even conquer a single planet on his own!" He replied, keeping his feet moving. He darted between Hater's wildly thrown blitz, his words a mix of annoyance and sarcasm.

Suddenly however, as he was focused more on his snarky retort rather than dodging, the skeleton's fist finally connected with him, the lighting crackling upon impact. It sent electric shockwaves through the commander's small form. The force throwing him at the wall, a gasp escaping him. The impact shook him, the waves of electricity causing his world to spin. The hit was hard, and his body felt the full force of it, every nerve screaming. The pain was like nothing he had felt before, stars dancing in his vision.

But as he heard the laugh of his former superior, something inside of him stirred.

After all, you can't run if you want to be number one.

Peepers straightened up, his determination like a fire inside him. He quickly shook off the pain, his adrenaline pumping. In a quick, bold move, he ripped off his shirt, revealing his unexpected, yet undeniably muscular, physique (sweet betsy). And as if possessed by his emotions, he roared and lunged at his Hater, throwing a powerful punch right across his face.

Ouch.

The punch connected with a resounding thud, sending the skeleton stumbling back from the force. The watchdog's fist hurt, a sharp sensation shooting up his hand, but it didn't matter. His adrenaline was high, his mind focused on the fight. He took advantage of the shock value, his upper body in full display. He knew damn well that it would tick his former superior even more.

Hater blinked in disbelief, his face turning a deeper shade of red, not only from anger but also from a hint of jealousy. He stumbled back a step, his eyes widening at the unexpected strength. His orbs flicked to the newly revealed muscular physique, and he seethed in silent envy. Or rather, loud. "YOU'VE... YOU'VE BEEN WORKING OUT?!?!" His voice consisted of shock and disbelief, his words filled with bitterness, his eyes flicking between his foe and his own scrawny frame.

The watchdog took the chance to respond with a quick jab, a smirk present on his face. "Yes, unlike you, I actually train!" He retorted, a combination of sarcasm and satisfaction. And with that, he threw another punch, aiming at Hater's middle.

Blocking the punch, the skeleton's eyes narrowed further. "I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW!" His jealousy grew with each passing moment as he spoke. "I'M THE GREATEST VILLAIN IN THE GALAXY, I DON'T NEED TO TRAIN! I'M STRONGER THAN EVERYONE ELSE ANYWAY!" He snapped, his declaration filled with a grudge and a hint of embarrassment. He threw a strike of his own, aiming at Peepers' jaw.

While dodging the blow, the former second-in-command let out a small chuckle. "Right, because being 'The Greatest Villain' means you sit around all day, doing nothing but ordering people around while eating ice cream!" He taunted, his tone purely sarcastic. "And don't forget the tantrums, those are a very 'great villain-y' thing to do!" Another punch sailed at the Hater's chest, making contact with a loud thud.

"I DO NOT THROW TANTRUMS! I AM THE ALMIGHTY LORD HATER, THE FEARSOME LORD OF DESTRUCTION AND EVIL!!!" He threw another hit, aiming at the watchdog's face (so his eye), his jealousy boiling over, his ego wounded further.

"ALMIGHTY, MY BACKSIDE!" Peepers retorted, easily dodging the punch. His movements were light and quick, his reflexes honed. "Don't even get me started on your 'destruction', you're about as destructive as a nerf gun!" Another strike connected, sending the skeleton staggering back for a moment.

Hater's face turned as red as the windows of the Skullship at the audacity of the comment, his ego bruised beyond belief. "SHUT UP! I AM A FEARED AND RESPECTED VILLAIN! I CAN DESTROY WHOLE PLANETS!" He yelled, throwing another blow in response, his aim slightly less coordinated.

The watchdog rolled his eye, not missing the slight loss of aim. "You couldn't destroy a sand castle with a death ray, let alone a planet!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" The skeleton's rage reached new levels as he roared. The lighting crackling in his hands grew more potent, and with a surge of his powers, he used a tendril of green electricity to lift his former subordinate up from the ground, anger fueling his every move. The emerald hue wrapped around the watchdog, pinning him mid-air.

Peepers gasped as he was lifted into the air. He tried to wiggle out of it, but it was no use. He found himself suspended several feet off the ground, trapped, his heart pounding in his chest. If the bigger villain wanted to kill him, then he could do it with a swift snap, and his opponent couldn't do anything about it. But he didn't plan on showing fear. He held his ground, his expression defiant and with a hint of anticipation.

Hater held him aloft, his eyes practically glowing with his fury. "I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT, PEEPERS! I DON'T NEED YOUR NAGGING! I'M THE GREATEST SOON-TO-BE RULER THIS GALAXY HAD EVER SEEN!" He yelled, lighting circling around his fists, a physical representation of his resentment. Peepers dangled, his mind racing for a way to get free while also keeping his former boss talking.

"Ruler? You're barely in control of your own emotions, let alone a galaxy!" He retorted, his words sharp. He needed to keep Hater distracted, ti find a way to escape the electrical hold.

With a narrow of his orbs, the skeleton's lip curled in anger. "I HAVE PERFECT CONTROL OVER MY EMOTIONS!" He roared. "I'M CALM AS A LAKE IN A THUNDERSTORM!!!" He emphasized the last part by making the lighting crack even more, the sound almost ominous.

The irony of his statement clearly lost to him.

But then, in the midst of the tension, a loud explosion roared through the room.

The force shattered the door, the shockwave sending Hater crashing to the ground, releasing his former right-hand in the process. The sound of glass and metal debris clattering filled the air, though for a moment, the only thing the two of them heard was ringing in their ears. However, with the last bit of his sense of hearing, he realized that there was also a sound of someone walking into the cramped prison. The watchdog watched in a daze as the chaos ensued, the detonation shaking the very foundation.

And just as his vision began to clear, he saw what happened.

There, right in front of him, Hater found himself under ___'s boot, his chest pinned to the floor by her foot. The echo of eruptions and watchdogs' screams only added to the surreal atmosphere, creating a tense and unpredictable ambiance.

Peepers watched in both disbelief and awe as the woman stood over the beaten skeleton like a true conqueror. The sight of him, once so intimidating, pinned beneath a mere human was almost unbelievable. The watchdog couldn't help but feel a flicker of amusement, perhaps a hint of satisfaction at the tables turning.

"Good job, Commander." Her cold gaze faltered for a moment as she turned to the smaller villain. The clothes she wore, usually clean and ironed, were then dirty and torn, showing just how determined she was to help. For certain, she planned everything. And even if it happened quickly and abruptly, Peepers couldn't keep himself from admiring her resolve. She was a force to be reckoned with, a person that he never thought he would have the pleasure of meeting. And deep inside, he was pleased that he did.

As she smiled at him in that sly way of hers, her eyes suddenly moved lower. For a second, a flicker of surprise appeared on her face as she raised an eyebrow. "Nice pecks." With that, she gave him a wink, wiping the blood that dripped from a cut on her cheek.

WHAT-

Peepers felt a weird mixture of embarrassment and amusement when the compliment reached his ears. His face heated up, but he quickly shook it off, focusing on the situation at hand. Seriously? Now?! He mentally chided her, unable to comprehend her priorities.

She was a strange woman indeed.

Hater, not even daring to comment, looked more like a tantrum-throwing child than a fearsome villain, struggling ineffectually against her hold. Because of that his face twisted in frustration, his anger momentarily replaced by surprise. "WHAT THE HECK, PEEPERS?!" He yelled, his voice carrying a hint of disbelief. "GET HER OFF ME, FOR GROP'S SAKE!!!"

With a whirl of emotions, the watchdog tried to keep his cool. He didn't intend on helping his former leader that time. Hater's demands fell on deaf ears. And so he straightened up, trying his best to assume a sense of authority. He was no longer an obedient follower. With a quick jump, he joined the woman near the skeleton, ready to stand by her side. Upon seeing it, the childish villain looked at him, his eyes begging for help, a silent plea, but the small alien just watched. "Sorry Hater." He said, his voice surprisingly steady considering the situation. "But I guess it's time for a change in management."

Hater looked at him, his orbs wide, his expression filled with genuine surprise, which quickly turned to anger, and then slowly, the realization began to sink in. His second-in-command wasn't doing anything, he was no longer at his side, supporting him and his actions. Instead he was siding with the human he caught him with not that long ago. Knowing it, he let out a groan, his face twisted in frustration and indignation. "You wouldn't-" He hissed, his voice strained. "You wouldn't turn against your leader! YOU WOULDN'T TURN AGAINST ME!"

And with that he reached his hand to grab the woman's leg, a desperate attempt at regaining control. But when she noticed it, she swiftly pulled out a device out of her pockets. The same object she stole from Peepers at the Yonder Festival. With a quick push of a button, Hater was enveloped in blue light. Unable to move.

He froze. Literally froze.

The sapphire colored light held him in its grasp, confining him, rendering him immobile. There was no struggling, no movement, nothing. The villain, still pinned under the human's boot, was like a statue. He was frozen in place and shock, forced into stillness, his rage halted (at least physically). "Oh, poor Hater." She said in mock sympathy.

"IT'S LORD HATER TO YOU! THE GREATEST VILLAIN IN ALL THE GALAXY, THE FUTURE RULER, YOU ABSOLUTE IMBECILE!!!" He yelled, his voice a mix of indignant and desperation. No matter the fact it didn't work, he still tried struggling, but his body remained unmoving.

"You may be Lord Hater..." The woman trailed off, her tone mocking. She was savoring the moment, a smug smile on her face. "But what good is it if you're frozen, unable to rule 'your galaxy'?" She leaned closer, her foot pinning him harshly to the ground.

"It's quite p̴̘̽ā̸̞t̶̛̼h̴̦͝e̴̮̓t̶͕̀i̵̞̊c̷̫̃, don't you think?" Her eyes were hollow as she spoke.

Hater seemed to shrink under her glare, his anger giving way to helplessness and frustration. "PEEPERS!" He cried out, desperately looking at his former Commander. "You can't just let her do this! You can't just... just...!"

And as the watchdog watched the whole ordeal, he felt guilt and satisfaction at once, a strange blend that he wasn't used to. He approached the skeleton's frozen form, his face carefully masked, though his heart was beating in anticipation. Hater was completely vulnerable, pleading for help, and Peepers knew it was his chance to seize control, but... He could still feel the memories of their friendship, the nicer words - that weren't said very often -, and he doubted his own resolve. It was now or never, and he had to decide what was more important.

His past loyalty to Hater, or his new future with ___.

"C-Peeps." The skeleton tried again, his voice cracking with despair. "You... you can't-"

"Oh but he absolutely can, Hater." The human interrupted, her orbs mercilessly fixed on the suspended villain. "Get used to it."

The skeleton tried to ignore her, his own eyes pleading, desperation clear, the fear of betrayal. "Peepers... you wouldn't do this..." He was almost begging, trapped in his frozen form. He couldn't argue or defend himself, completely at the mercy of the two. He had hope, hope so pure, that his former commander wouldn't turn his back on him.

And for a moment, Peepers' harsh expression faltered, the quilt gnawing at him. He forced himself to suppress the emotion, to remain resolute, but his heart felt heavy. The pleas of his one-time friend hit him like a punch in the stomach, the words echoing in his mind. The helplessness, right under a human's foot, it was a scene he never imagined. The vulnerability, the pleading, it tugged at his heart strings, the years of loyalty and training urging him to act, to protect his leader. To remain loyal.

"I-" He began, his voice a whisper, a hint of internal struggle.

The small watchdog felt a mix of emotions, his body tensing as he battled with his past allegiances and the temptation of power. The whole situation seemed unreal, he was unable to think clearly, to decide. But then suddenly, as if sensing his turmoil, the female reached out to him and grabbed his hand, their contact electric. Her palm was warm against his gloved one, the soft touch a stark contrast to the tension and uncertainty he was feeling.

"It's time to choose, Commander." Her voice was like a command, a gentle nudge towards the decision she wanted him to make. As if to emphasize her point, she handed him the device in her hands, a sign that he was the ruler, the one who had to make the calls.

Peepers was shocked by the electricity that seemed to course through as she grasped his hand. The unexpected gesture was like a wake-up call, a reminder of what was at stake. He looked at their palms, felt the device in his, the power within it. She was trusting him, she wanted him to lead. And he had to make a choice, right here, right now.

And so his eye met Hater's frozen form once more, the plea echoing in his mind. Guilt, loyalty, and the temptation of power warred within him, the emotions swirling like a storm inside him. The gaze of his former leader begged for loyalty, for the watchdog to side with him, to oppose the human female. But the object in his hands, her warm touch, all pointed towards a future where he was the one in control.

It was too much.

His mind was a whir of emotion, the weight of his decision, the skeleton's pleads, the device, and the woman's trust - it all clamored for attention, for his decision. He could hear Hater's words, the demands, the fear, but he could also feel the woman's hand holding his, guiding him, reminding him of what she wanted.

And in that moment, the storm of uncertainty cleared, his choice clear. His hand tightened around the magical mechanism, it's presence a confirmation of his selection.

He decided to side with ___.

His heart pounded in his chest with determination and anticipation. He straightened up, his choice made, his future chosen. Hater's trapped form and his pleading gaze served as a reminder of what was at stake, what everything meant. And knowing it, the watchdog turned to his future right-hand, his jaw set, his expression resolved.

She met his eye, a flash of satisfaction and approval passing through her face. Her smile was the confirmation he needed, the sign that he made the right call. And with that in mind, she stepped away, leaving the skeleton still unable to move. Although he couldn't do anything, his emotions were on display, and his screams rang out. "DON'T DO THIS PEEPERS! YOU'RE AS STUPID AS YOU LOOK!!!"

But Peepers ignored his words, his expression unyielding, his grip on the device tight. He took a deep breath, his back straightened, his resolve like steel. "Sometimes, being 'stupid' for a greater purpose is necessary." He said firmly, his voice steady. "I've made my choice, Hater."

With a frustrated roar, the skeleton struggled against the blue magic. "GREATER PURPOSE?! WHAT GREATER PURPOSE?! YOU'RE BETRAYING YOUR LEADER, PEEPERS! YOU'RE A WORTHLESS, USELESS FOLLOWING WITHOUT ME! I SHOULD HAVE NEVER MADE YOU MY COMMANDER!"

The watchdog's eye twitched, the outburst digging deep. He knew the truth in them, the years of loyalty, the bond they had, but that was different. It was a new beginning. "Worthless?" He countered. "I have been the backbone of your every failed plan. It's time I have a shot of at one of my own." His resolve was unwavering. "Consider it... a new start."

"A start fitting for the New Ruler of the Yonder Galaxy."

At that, Hater's eyes blazed. "YOU THINK YOU CAN RULE? YOU?! A PATHETIC WATCHDOG?! YOU DON'T HAVE THE BRAINCELL FOR RULING, YOU'LL COLLAPSE IN A WEEK!"

Right as he finished yelling, the human moved closer to the smaller villain, her hand casually resting on his exposed shoulder. Her eyes flickered to his scarlet orb, a hint of amusement glimmering inside. She decided to speak, her tone dripping with an authoritative edge. "Oh, he won't collapse." With that her fingers trailed along his collarbone. "As long as I keep him in line."

Though a hint of defiance showed in Peepers' eye as it narrowed. "Keep in line?" He scoffed, a small smirk tugging at his whole optic. "I won't need to be kept in line." He countered, his words sharper than usual, his tone slightly shifting. "Because I'll be the one giving the orders." His gaze met ___'s, and in that moment, an understanding passed between them.

"I'll be the one in control." He continued, his tone gaining malice. "And soon." He leaned forward, his amused glare set on his former leader. "The Galaxy will bow to the new, and improved Commander Peepers."

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fen-luciel · 3 months ago

Text

The Devil

AnakinXreader

Warnings:slow burn/implicit smut/ a bit of gore at the end

Summary:A love story born amidst the war, with a fallen angel.

[Support the story on Ao3 Here]

One thing I had learned about Anakin Skywalker is that he was always ready to help those in need. Sometimes, I saw it more as a curse, sacrificing himself for others, with a reassuring smile on his face, ready to leap into action.

Many mistook that care for arrogance, but I had always seen beyond it.

The jokes, the gestures, the ways, all a mask to make you feel better even in the worst moments.

He was radiant.

I met him in person purely by chance. I was assigned to the same mission at the last second. I was supposed to leave with other clones to a war zone, but some human traffickers had appeared out of nowhere, taking advantage of the precarious conditions of the planets that survived the separatists' attacks.

The Jedi were being sent everywhere every second, so it was just a coincidence that I was free at that moment.

The first time I saw him, I recognized him immediately, like a bright star in the cold universe, his smile warmed me more than anything.

His former master introduced us. We didn't have much time for pleasantries given the sudden crisis we were about to resolve. We said goodbye to our friends, and with a small platoon, we set off for the last planet that had been marked as a contact point.

He didn't know me, of course. I wasn't particularly famous for great feats in the war or interactive in the more political sphere. I struggled to see myself as a Jedi—I was more of a soldier... more replaceable.

But Anakin didn't make me feel that way.

Soon that evening, lost in deep space while everyone else slept, we started playing cards. He was terrible, winning one game out of ten. By the sixth game, he started losing on purpose, trying to annoy me with stupid questions that he repeated over and over, but I found it hilarious, he was... light.

For a moment, he made me feel like a young girl and not a soldier in war.

Anyway, I couldn't say if something between us started right there, he made it seem natural, as if we had been friends forever, and I adored every second of it.

The problem was that the mission turned out to be much worse than expected—a network of kidnappings and sales of human and alien beings had been created right under our noses without the Order realizing it. What was supposed to be an intervention lasting a couple of weeks turned into a well-organized outpost for more than five months.

The atmosphere was mostly tense during the day. We set traps in wooded areas, devised capture plans, intercepted calls, but above all, we tried to save as many civilians as possible—women, the elderly, children—we never stopped.

At the end of the evening, we were so exhausted that we barely exchanged a few words. Anakin and I had our cots in the same house, the base was hidden among the ruins of a city bombed by the separatists long ago. We had tried to make the place livable as much as possible, but we couldn't afford to attract attention, so we just dusted it off.

The place was stale and suffocating. One of the two windows had been boarded up with wooden planks, the power had gone out along with everything else, and we kept a small dim lantern in the darkest corner to avoid attracting unwanted glances from outside.

I didn't realize that night after night, Anakin moved his sleeping bag slightly closer to mine.

When I noticed, we were barely an arm's length apart. I never said anything, it made me feel less alone.

I slept better at night.

One thing I noticed was the lost look in the void that sometimes froze him on those few evenings when we played at least one game of cards.

He was silent, tense, it usually happened after we saved people. Normally, this should have made us happy, and at least the rest of the team was, but he suddenly got lost in his thoughts, closed in on himself, and didn't talk to me anymore.

"Are you okay?"

Silence.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Silence.

"It went well, right?"

Still silence.

I let it go, finished the game, and lay down, turning my back on him, too proud to admit that I felt rejected.

Rejected by what, I couldn't tell.

It was precisely on one of those alcohol-fueled evenings that the turning point happened. We had returned exhausted from a mission that had allowed us to save at least a hundred lives. We celebrated with some wine stolen from an abandoned house, but Anakin did not show up, and I was too irritated by his isolation to go knock on our door.

We drank late into the night. I returned to the little house with my mind slightly foggy. Anakin had turned off the light and was already asleep. I took off my clothes with some difficulty before slipping under the duvet, ready to fall asleep, but a warm arm silently snaked around my waist, "I'm sorry." he whispered in a hoarse voice.

I realized he had been crying.

I bit my lip, afraid to dare too much, the alcohol was confusing my senses, his touch so light yet intimate, to which I was not accustomed... so I just told him I wasn't angry, that I forgave him.

I slept divinely, but the next morning we said nothing about what had happened.

A few days later, he pretended to casually end up close to my body before wrapping an arm around my waist before sleeping. So we started lying in each other's arms, seeking a bit of warmth and comfort. I kept telling myself it was normal in our situation, the war was wearing us down, and we needed contact... I needed his contact.

As the months went by, I noticed that something was off about the perfect figure of the Chosen One.

His sudden mood swings, the strange talks... the hatred.

The hatred I saw in his eyes when we captured the gang members.

The visceral rage.

I had met killers with a less menacing air.

Of course, no one was perfect, and being a Jedi meant fighting the dark side every day, but from a figure like his, something different was expected, more like a flawless and fearless hero, yet he seemed the most fragile of all.

I thought that maybe power like his had a great burden on the other side of the balance and stopped doubting his faith.

It was around the third month that the turning point happened.

I had been injured on my side, the burn made me wince with every movement. Bandaged and treated, I was forced to stay in bed to rest for a few days.

Anakin was deathly silent as he caressed my bandaged side, his body lying behind mine, head resting on his hand and free fingers gently brushing against me. I could feel him thinking with his eyes closed.

"I'm okay," I murmured softly so as not to break the silence.

He exhaled slowly, moving closer, pressing his chest against my back. "If I had been there, it wouldn't have happened."

I shivered, feeling the breath behind my ear, his hoarse voice cradling me, making me feel warm... safe.

"We're both knights. I can take care of myself." I was almost on the verge of falling asleep, but I held on to reply. I didn't like knowing he was lost in thought on his own; his face darkened when it happened.

He leaned down to kiss my bare shoulder, I held back from commenting, it seemed that every step we took together was a slow descent on a path with no return. I should have told him not to do it, to stop, but... that warmth in my chest made me feel alive.

"I know. I'm not saying you need me, I know you can take care of yourself." he sighed heavily before placing another kiss on the skin slightly higher than the previous one. "It's just that when you protect others, it seems like you don't care about yourself. I want to be there for you."

That warm, dense feeling growing in my stomach.

I turned slightly to look at him, we were so close that our noses almost touched.

"I have given my life to the Jedi cause. The good of others comes before mine." I reached out to gently stroke his cheek, he leaned into the touch. The faint orange light illuminated the side of his face, looking at me with such intensity that my heart trembled.

"Then I'll take care of you."

Our lips almost touched, I didn't even notice that his hand had slightly moved my shirt up, the tips of his fingers burning on my bare skin.

I wish I could say something romantic like "I don't know if I got closer first or he did, maybe we came together" or similar, but it would have been a shameful lie.

I was the one to throw myself on his lips.

I realized while we were locked in a slow kiss that he had me wrapped around his finger from the moment I met him months earlier.

All the admiration, the respect, was nothing compared to what I felt looking at him, not as a Jedi or a hero, but as a man.

The blond curls, the chiseled physique, the sharp features, the defined jawline, the deep eyes, his skin, his scent, it was everything.

He got under your skin, and you wanted more.

I wanted more.

He took his hand off my side to stroke my cheek, our faces pressed together as we shared the same air. I had no prior experience with kisses, yet he made it seem natural. I just had to follow the trail of his lips on mine, the light bites, the tongue in my mouth.

"I need you." he whispered on my skin before kissing my neck, leaving wet marks. I trembled weakly from the wounds and his touch, holding back sighs and moans as he opened my robe, his body covering mine, the moonlight illuminating his sculpted muscles.

I had no regrets the next morning.

I knew what had happened was dangerous, forbidden, but when he got dressed next to me in the early morning light, I couldn't help but admire his golden skin, still wanting.

He gave me a kiss on the forehead, told me to rest, and left, giving me one of those breathtaking smiles.

No, I didn't regret anything.

When they allowed me to go back into action, everything seemed to have returned to normal.

Except in the evening, when those masks of indifference we wore fell away, and we found ourselves in each other's arms: the kisses, the touches, the breaths we shared.

But above all, the looks.

Sometimes tears welled up in my eyes when he held me to his chest, that feeling that tightened my throat, it was so beautiful it hurt, and he devoured me with the intensity of a thousand suns. I burned under that gaze; he held me tight, leaving bruises on my skin, and for a moment, I... I saw him.

I saw him, without his masks, without the lies he used to protect himself, and something deep in my conscience screamed a warning at me.

Flashes of that hatred I'd seen in him crossed my mind, the anger, a visceral contempt, sometimes arrogant. That deep look was more revealing than a thousand words, and instinct told me to look, to see how far that abyss went, but I was terrified, not for him, but for me.

If I found a beast hidden in the darkness, what would I do?

No, I didn't want to think about it. Every time I lost myself in the tangle of our bodies, I would look away, maybe close my eyes or hide my face in his neck, anything to avoid looking... to avoid looking at him.

I realized my mistake when it was too late to turn back.

We were nearing the end of the conflict, the majority of the population had been brought to safety, many criminals captured or fallen in battle. It was a great result, except that all this pressure made the few remaining who were resisting us increasingly nervous and daring, as if they didn't care if they would die in the shootout, the important thing was to do as much damage as possible, as if on a whim.

The last month, in particular, was a real trench war. Only a handful of slavers remained to be stopped, but they had barricaded themselves inside the abandoned Senate building with the last hostages, of course, the easiest ones to drag along, the children.

The place had been fortified for some time, and even though we had a map, we couldn't know where they were keeping the hostages or, worse, if they had already killed them, keeping up the façade just to buy time.

We hypothesized every kind of plan, but none gave us the certainty of getting the hostages back. It would have been easy to bomb the area at this point, they were so dangerous that the Republic wouldn't have mourned their loss. We had also thought of isolating them until they came out from exhaustion and hunger, but again, if there really were those children, they would have been the first to suffer.

After two days of discarded plans, I tried everything.

"Let's go back to the first hypothesis. I'll make my way through the breach in the ceiling, look for the hostages, and send you a signal when I have them safe." We were all gathered around the building's holographic map. Next to me, Anakin huffed, "Don't even think about it. I'll go instead."

I sighed, smiling weakly "No offense, General Skywalker, but you're not particularly good at crawling along corridors." The remark drew a laugh from all the clones around us, who agreed with me, but Anakin wasn't laughing at all.

"I don't want you going in there alone, it's too much, even for a Jedi. They're waiting for us, they'll have set traps—" He started, waving his hand over the table, but I interrupted him. "They definitely have. But it's our best option. It's decided."

I didn't wait for a reply, knowing he could argue with me all day if necessary. I kept myself busy organizing the troops for that evening. Anakin moved tensely through the camp, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign. I knew he wasn't happy with that choice at all, but I wouldn't back down.

We left late in the evening; by then, I knew the map by heart. The building had three floors and a basement; all the side windows were barred, so it was impossible to tell where the children were. I would descend from the skylight above the chamber of deputies and from there explore each floor from top to bottom until I found the hostages... or their remains in the worst-case scenario.

The first part of the plan was fairly simple, but as soon as I stepped inside, I noticed something strange. Patrolling the corridors were droids built from makeshift materials, fragile-looking, yes, but armed.

I had to turn off the radio for fear of receiving a call at the wrong moment. I needed to check every room and descend a level until I was sure no one was there, and deactivating the droids would work against me since they would realize someone had entered.

On the ground floor, I saw the men who were left, all sitting around an old board game, looking either drunk or on the verge of falling asleep. I managed to send a brief message before heading to the basement.

Some walls had partially collapsed, and the narrow corridors made it difficult to move stealthily, but I stayed alert, ready to spring into action. I reached the end where I knew the vault that held the most important documents and money was located. It was a room large enough to hold more than one person, and at this point, it was my only chance.

The dim light in the room wasn’t much, but I finally saw it, the heavy metal door sealing the vault.

I knocked on the surface, hoping to get a response, and to my joy, I heard frightened gasps. I called out, hoping they could hear me; on the other hand, I could only make out vague murmurs, but when they started banging on the wall from the other side, I had no doubt it was them.

I ignited the lightsaber to begin cutting a hole in the surface, quickly warning them to move away, hoping they understood what I was saying, and very slowly, I began to cut through the metal.

It all happened in a moment. I felt it in my gut before I even heard the sound, I spun around, deflecting a shot aimed at me.

In front of me, one of those men, accompanied by three droids, pointed their weapons at me. I was at a disadvantage, given the tight space in which I had to defend myself. I parried more shots before inevitably losing the rhythm. I didn’t see where I was hit, but I felt it on my skin—the burning sensation spreading like an oil stain, the throbbing pain, and finally, my heavy fall to the ground.

When I turned to face him, something was thrown at me, a disturbing click around my neck made me flinch.

"Finally," the man approached me menacingly. I got up quickly to defend myself, but suddenly, an electric shock coursed through my body, knocking me back to the ground. I screamed in surprise as I tried in vain to tear off the collar.

"Don’t try it, Jedi, not even you can get rid of these."

I lay on the ground, breathless, my hands trembling uncontrollably, and a dull ache in my bones.

"You have no chance..." I panted in pain, moving my arm near the pocket where I kept the communicator, slowly activating it.

However, the movement caught his attention, and I was forcefully shoved to the ground, the device falling a few meters away from me as the man reactivated the shock.

I thrashed on the ground in jerky movements, keeping my mouth shut for fear of biting my tongue as I tried to crawl towards the communicator, a ringing in my ears.

"Bitch!" The shock stopped, but I had no time to recover before a kick hit me in the stomach, knocking out the little breath I had left. He bent over my body, gripping my hands around my neck. I wanted to push him away, but my fingers were still trembling uncontrollably. "I don’t need to keep you awake to use you as a bargaining chip. I’ll make you regret what you put us through!"

I kicked uselessly, my head feeling heavy, and my vision darkening, my lungs struggling for air. I tried to claw at his wrists, but I was losing strength.

It was when I was on the verge of passing out that something suddenly pushed him away from me.

I coughed forcefully, gasping for air. I turned onto my hands and knees, trembling and still unable to stand. I didn't understand what was happening, but I was glad to feel my fingertips again.

I coughed a few more times when I noticed something was off—or rather, something strange was happening next to me, judging by the sound I heard.

Like... something wet, an eerie crunching sound that I couldn't quite place.

I turned, finally more clear-headed, and almost had a heart attack.

Anakin was there—I figured he had used the Force to push the man away from me—but what I saw in front of me was worse than anything I had ever experienced.

I saw him with his back to me, crouched over the man's body... which wasn't moving anymore.

I crawled toward them, reaching out a hand to his shoulder, trying to shake him. "Anakin, leave him, we need to open the door—" and then I saw them more clearly.

He had pushed his thumbs into the man's eyes, which disappeared up to the knuckles in the sockets as he gripped the sides of his face. There was blood everywhere—it was dripping from the eye sockets, the mouth, even the back of his head, which was being slammed into the floor that slowly stained a bright red. I swear I saw his skull unnaturally crushed.

The air left my lungs, a wave of nausea rising in my throat that I held back at the last second.

"Please, let him go, A-Anakin, p-please—" I stammered as I clung to his arm, trying in vain to pull him away. I gripped the front of his tunic, but he seemed immovable.

"Anakin, I'm fine, let him go, please, y-you've killed him—" I cried, tears falling before I even realized.

He finally released his grip, letting the man's head fall into the pool of blood with a wet thud. He turned to look at me, and I instinctively tried to back away, frightened, falling onto my backside because my knees were still weak. I couldn’t look away, but now I saw it as clear as day—that monster he hid inside, that flame I had glimpsed when he was angry, or when we made love, and those languid eyes would light up with a sinister, almost possessive glow.

Now I saw it in its rawest form and could no longer pretend I hadn't. The metallic scent of blood filled my nostrils, making my eyes sting.

"Anakin—" I whispered, raising a hand, not sure whether to reach for him or keep my distance.

"My love." He came toward me as if everything was normal, his face worried, relieved to see me mostly unharmed. He brushed the collar with a hand, a spark of anger flashing as fast as a blink. "The others are coming, we’ll get this thing off you," he murmured, then gently took my face in his hands, the blood staining my skin and dripping in tiny crimson drops down my neck. I was shaking like a leaf but didn’t know what to say.

I knew what he was.

I knew it, but I had underestimated it, in fact, I had lied to myself, ignoring all the warnings. Yet I wondered how it was possible that no one had noticed before.

Or maybe they had all been blinded by the same light?

By that warm smile.

Never getting too close and risking harm.

But I had been drawn to the light like a moth, and now, indeed, I was burning alive.

And it was too late to run away.

I was complicit in that fire, which I had fed every night with every kiss, touch, or whisper.

How could I turn my back on him now?

It was also my fault.

He leaned over me, the hand I had raised now resting on his chest, the heartbeat too steady for someone who had just crushed a human skull with his bare hands.

"Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you." A whisper on my lips, I wanted to say it was impossible, that he couldn’t save me from himself, that it was him I feared so much, but it was too late.

He kissed me, his lips tasting of death and blood, the light that blinded me now an shadow that devoured me.

It was too late.

I loved him.

I realized it when I closed my eyes to meet him. I would have kept his secret, I would have protected him until my last breath.

Till death do us part.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin x oc #first person #violent love #soft gore

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