And reader is smaller than all the task force. So they guys assume they are a smaller prey hybrid
Until they see reader with out their gear and see that reader is under weight, and they realize that reader it's getting enough food or the right nutritions
Maybe the task force see that reader is eating a weirdly small amount, but they brush it off and say that's how they always ate at home. And the guys realized that you grew up in a prey home and never learned what to eat
(so loads of angst and oblivious reader)
And I love your works, it feeds me everyday, thank you for existing❤️😋
Oooh, oh my gosh, some angst!? Some miscommunication!? Oh my God, I need it. Also, I'm so glad I got my tooth out and all, but GAHHH, my jaw is so sore from the numbing shots and stuff 😵💫 I'm gonna take another painkiller and go to bed early
You were one of the smaller hybrids that Price had ever seen in the military. He'd met some mouse and bunny hybrids, even a few tiny bird hybrids. You were practically the same size as a bunny hybrid, which was deeply concerning once he double checked your file.
"Y/N is a tiger hybrid." Price mumbles in surprise, gut sinking as he thinks of all the meals you had at mess hall. Barely full plates that he knew wouldn't properly fill you up.
"What's that, Cap?" Simon grunts quietly as he glances up from his own paperwork. Price clears his throat nervously, passing over your file to him.
"I didn't get a chance to look beforehand. I was checking their hybrid status to help choose their next deployment. Y/N is a tiger." Price's mouth felt dry as he taps his fingers on his chair. "We need to get them to eat more."
"Do they know that their a tiger hybrid?" Simon scoffs in disbelief, his own striped tail trashing in irritation.
"They were raised by lemur hybrids. I don't think they know how to eat." Price drops his head into his hands. If they didn't get more food into you soon, there would be consequences.
Johnny stares at your back in horror. You were almost as geared up as Ghost half the time, never caught out of uniform or fatigues. Maybe that's why he'd never noticed how skinny you were. His stomach sinks as he realizes he can count your vertebrae, your shoulder blades sickeningly prominent.
"Y/N... Jesus, you're skinny." Johnny breaths, grabbing your upper arm. He was incredibly surprised that you even had muscle, that you were still standing. He studies your rounded ears, eyes falling to your striped tail and putting it together in his head.
"I'm just a little thinner than you guys. It's not a big deal. I'm good on the field, right?" You try to laugh off what he was saying, but his serious tone made you stomach curl. You'd always been a little skinnier than some of your peers, and you were hoping to avoid all the awkward comments on your body in the military.
"Not a - No, Y/N, it is a big deal!" Johnny insists, eyes wide. "How much do you weigh? Simon's a tiger hybrid too, you should be a lot heavier than this." He continues, unconsciously tightening his grip on your arm.
"Ah, Johnny! Let go!" You hiss, shoving at his chest. He retracts his hand instantly, eyes flickering with guilt. "I'm fine! I weigh enough, just leave me alone!" You snap angrily, snatching your shirt out of your locker and stomping out of the room. You weighed plenty, and you didn't need anyone to force you to gain weight.
You rush to your barracks, tail lashing angrily as you try to calm down before it is time for dinner. You knew you were thin, but it wasn't that bad! You were already so much bigger than your parents and peers. This was the first time you'd ever been so small.
You growl in frustration under your breath, continuing to pace until a knock at your door startles you. "Yes!?" You snap, unable to help yourself. Kyle hesitantly opens the door, raising an eyebrow at you as he steps inside.
"Woah there... What did I do?" He asks defensively as he shuts the door behind him and leans against the wall. "Is this about the argument you just had with Johnny?"
"Did he run off and tell you all about it?" You grumble angrily, which makes Kyle chuckles quietly.
"I was in the showers, Y/N." Your shoulders sag slightly, anger starting to fade out since you weren't mad at him. You weren't even mad at Johnny, really. You just didn't want to hear anymore about your body. "He's worried. We all are, we thought you were a bunny hybrid. Or maybe a small cat hybrid." Your ears flick back at that, eyes narrowing at him.
"A bunny hybrid? Why would I be a bunny hybrid?" You scoff quietly. You knew you didn't have the most obvious presentation, but a bunny hybrid? They didn't think you were that small, did they? Kyle crosses his arms and shrugs a little. "All I've ever heard my whole life is that I'm too fucking big. Now here yall come saying I need to gain weight."
"You were raised by lemurs, Y/N, not tigers. Of course, they thought you were too big." Kyle jumps to explain, which makes you growl queitly.
"My parents would never do anything to hurt me!" You snap at him, arms crossed defensively. Kyle cringes, holding up his hands at that.
"I know they wouldn't! They weren't trying to hurt you, but they didn't teach you how to eat right. You're a predator hybrid. You need more food." Kyle explains softly to try and calm you down. You stare back at him, shoulders tight as you step away from him when he steps closer.
"Leave my family out of this." You hiss angrily, watching as Kyle nods quickly.
"I will. We will. I swear. Can you please come get some food? Simon's going to make you a plate. He's really worried about you." He offers, watching your ears flicker slightly. You didn't want to sit and eat right now. You wanted to run, but when you start to walk past Kyle, the world tilts under your feet.
Kyle grabs your upper arm, gently holding you still so you don't fall over. "Hey, slow down." He murmurs as he keeps you steady. "Let's go." He says firmly, walking with a hand on your back to the mess hall. "After we eat, you're going to get checked up."
You twist your face at his words, but you don't bother protesting. Not when you're busy ignoring the black spots sprouting in your vision.
The Wayne Manor is too big, too quiet, and too cold. Even though it’s supposed to be home, it feels... empty. There are barely any people around, and too many rooms left unused. Sometimes, it feels like those rooms are just waiting for something or someone to fill them. At this point, it wouldn’t be surprising if one of them had a penunggu, a restless spirit drawn to all that silence.
Coming here at 13/14 years old, with barely anyone to talk to, reader could almost feel the air in the manor pressing down on them heavy and suffocating. They never really knew how to start a conversation. Everyone always seemed too busy, too tired, like they were one bad day away from collapsing. The only adult the reader truly trusted was Alfred, old and somehow still managing to keep the entire manor running on his own. So, they helped him. It was the least they could do. just doing a simple chores to fill their times.
It’s been months, and nothing has really changed. Reader wakes up, goes to school, helps with the chores, then goes back to sleep. It’s… routine. Quiet. Too quiet. Everydays feels the same, like time moves, but nothing else does.
Until one day, while strolling around the park, Reader hears a soft sound a faint, drawn-out meow coming from somewhere nearby. It’s small, almost easy to miss, but it pulls their attention instantly. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s the silence finally breaking. Either way, they follow it.
It’s a fat tabby cat! The cat looks so… ugly. I mean, its pattern is kind of weird. The stripes don’t match properly, and there’s this odd patch around its eye that makes it look like it’s wearing a crooked mask. It’s funny, so funny that I can’t help but laugh a little by its patern. Gently, I scoop it up and hold it close, smiling awkwardly as I start walking back to the manor.
When Reader arrived back at the manor, Bruce Wayne had just returned as well. They hurried toward him, still clutching the fat tabby cat in their arms.
“Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne!” Reader called out, the words coming out a little too fast, a little too loud. They hardly ever spoke to him, maybe that’s why it sounded so nervous.
Bruce turned, slightly startled by the sudden voice. His gaze softened for a brief second when he saw who it was.
Reader lifted the cat higher, hiding half their face behind its round head. “Mr. Wayne, I… I want this,” they said quietly, peeking from behind the tabby’s ear. “Can I keep it?”
For a moment, Bruce just stared at the cat, then at the child holding it. There was something fragile in the way they stood there, clutching the strange, patchy-looking animal like it was the most important thing in the world.
Bruce didn’t answer right away. For a moment, he only stood there, unreadable.
The child’s voice still echoed faintly in his head, 'Mr. Wayne'.
'Why did you call him that? Weren’t you… his child?'
He glanced back at Reader, then at the cat in their arms — a round, mismatched tabby staring up at him with curious eyes. Somehow, the whole picture looked strangely endearing.
Can I request a Reader that was once known for being like a super evil ass dude, but after so many years he just kind of faded from the public no longer being that infamous, but then The Express crew meets purely him by accident, and expecting the total worst from old stories they heard, yet he was tired, he didn't act as he used to, it felt like he no longer wanted to be evil, and now he's just some dude on a planet that he saved before he fully faded from the public eyes, he saved it by crushing the local government and he re instated a new governance, but he wasn't the one at the top like many expected instead, he just became a farmer working a peaceful life tired of what he once was
“Peace Was the Last War I Fought”
Summary: Once feared across the stars as a merciless tactician and executioner, you faded from galactic memory after dismantling a corrupt government and vanishing. Years later, the Astral Express crew stumbles upon your quiet life as a farmer on the very planet you once saved through bloodshed. Expecting a monster from legend, they instead find a tired man who no longer wishes to fight, only to grow—wheat, not war.
Tags: Astral Express Crew x Male!Reader, Former Villain Reader, Redemption Arc, Quiet Life, Subtle Angst, Found Family Elements, Soft Philosophical Themes, No Romance, Hurt/Comfort.
Warnings: Mentions Of Past Violence, War Crimes, Political Upheaval, PTSD Themes (Implied), Moral Ambiguity.
The Astral Express touched down on the outer rim of a quiet, agrarian planet—a stopover that wasn’t originally on the manifest. Welt had chalked it up to a minor route recalibration. Himeko had shrugged, saying it was worth stretching their legs.
None of them expected him to be here.
Even March 7th had heard the stories. Whispered in half-truths from planets scarred by war or paranoia, about a man who’d once left entire systems reeling. Some called him the Blightmaker, others simply the General. The tales never agreed on his face, but they agreed on his cruelty—strategic, surgical, relentless.
The stories didn’t end with death. No. He simply… vanished. Faded like a shadow at dusk.
“Wait… you’re telling me he might be here?” March said, eyes wide as she reviewed the local data logs.
“Looks like it,” Dan Heng replied, his tone cautious. “Coordinates match the sector where he reportedly disappeared. We should proceed carefully.”
They expected an old fortress, maybe a crumbling ruin surrounded by mercenaries.
What they found instead was a farm.
Rolling hills. Sunlight heavy in the air. Rows of golden wheat swaying in a warm breeze. And him—standing alone in a field, sleeves rolled up, hands stained with soil and sap.
You.
You didn't reach for a weapon when they approached. You didn’t run, didn’t even flinch. You just looked at them like they were an unexpected storm on a summer day.
“Visitors?” you asked. Your voice was calm. Scratchy like gravel, like it hadn’t been used in years for anything more than talking to the wind.
Himeko was the first to speak. “You’re… you're the one they call—"
“No,” you cut her off gently. “I was. Now I’m just a farmer.”
March stared. “But you… you crushed an entire regime here, didn’t you? Stories say you broke their military in two days.”
You scratched your chin, then bent down to check on a row of herbs growing by the fence. “They were bleeding the planet dry. I did what needed doing.”
“Then vanished,” Welt added. “People assumed you’d crown yourself king.”
You looked up, amusement glinting in your tired eyes. “Why would I want that? Ruling sounds worse than fighting. Constant talking. Meetings. Expectations. No time for sunrises.”
They exchanged glances. Suspicion. Curiosity. Confusion.
“I don’t get it,” March finally said. “You were… a monster. That’s what the stories say.”
“I was angry,” you replied softly. “Anger makes monsters out of men. But I burned through it. Nothing left now but the smoke, and the silence it left behind.”
Dan Heng narrowed his eyes. “And the lives you took?”
You didn’t flinch. “I remember them all. That’s why I don’t leave this place. This land’s mine to tend now. I took from the universe. Now I try to give back. Quietly. Without anyone else bleeding for it.”
No defensiveness. No smugness. Just… stillness. A man so tired of the weight he once carried, he buried it under seed and soil.
You invited them in for tea.
They sat on wooden chairs you’d carved yourself. You poured from a chipped pot and offered biscuits made with local grain. Outside, the wind rustled the trees like applause for a show long ended.
None of them truly knew what to make of you. This was no grand villain, no hidden mastermind biding his time.
Summary: A lazy hang-out transfigures when your best-friend decides to tackle you over an academic dispute.
Warnings: fluff, mutual pinning, no use of y/n, he's wearing that fuckass bandana I love, I didn't revise shit (again)
Word Count: 2.0k
Pairings: eddiemunson x fem!reader
A/N: I so would and could body slam that twig
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
The sun spilled itself across the open field, light diffusing through the afternoon like honey. It caressed the tall grass, the restless green sea that shuffled under the wind. Every gust combed through the meadow, tugging at loose hems, carrying the dry, loamy perfume of earth and smoke, threading itself through hair and fabric. It was the kind of day that felt preordained for idleness. Too soft to be squandered on anything like responsibility.
"Did you bring your backpack with you?"
You lifted a brow, skeptical, and drew the cigarette from your mouth between two fingers. Smoke unfurled in a thin ribbon as you exhaled. "No... why?"
Eddie Munson was already several paces ahead, moving with that swagger of someone who had never once concerned himself with the concept of walking normally. His stride was long, almost serpentine. The breeze bullied at his dark curls, tugging them loose from his bandana until they fell into his face, brushing his broad pink lips and jaw. He puffed them away with an exaggerated breath, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse aimed at the Indiana weather.
"Because," he said, without looking back, "you should... be studying."
That alone was enough to make you snort.
His face, when he finally glanced back over his shoulder, was restless as ever, multiple expressions flitting across it like nervous birds. Eddie was terrible at pretending not to care. He tried, sure, but the effort always showed in the seams.
"What?" You laughed sharply. "Where the hell did that come from?" You tapped the cigarette, watching ash crumble and scatter into the grass before returning it to your lips. Eddie jammed his hands into his back pockets and pivoted toward you.
This hangout was supposed to be an escape hatch. Severing from Hawkins High, from fluorescent lights and Scantron sheets and the low-grade panic that lived between your ribs. The plan had been simple: drive the van past the town's edge, park where the road gave up, blast music loud enough to rattle loose screws, eat snacks that barely qualified as food, and let the hours dissolve. Eddie was supposed to be complicit in that. Not--whatever this was.
"I saw your report card in the trash the other day."
You rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt, turning your head away from him. "Oh my god."
You knew exactly what he meant. That crumpled, shame-stained paper. A horticulture of F's and D's you'd folded and buried beneath coffee grounds and soda cans like it might decompose faster if you refused to acknowledge it. Out of sight, out of mind. Or at least, that was the hope.
Eddie lifted a hand, fingers flexing like he was trying to grab the right words out of thin air. "I just--" He sighed, dragging the hand down his face. "You were a solid B student, okay? Like, consistently. And then after you met--"
"It's not because of you, Eddie," you cut in, harsher than you meant to be, turning back to face him with a tight frown. "Can we not do this right now? I came out here with you to relax. Not to--" you gestured vaguely, frustration fizzing under your skin, "remember the test I've got coming up."
For a moment, he said nothing.
The field stretched out around you. Somewhere far off, a car passed, the sound fleeting.
Eddie turned away, scuffing the dirt with the toe of his Reebok. His shoulders lifted in a shrug that looked too casual to be convincing. "Just sayin'," he drawled, but there was a thickness to his voice, a sincerity he couldn't sand down no matter how hard he tried. "You bomb that test, you're stuck retaking the class."
Your jaw tightened. "Oh, and you know everything about that, don't you?" you shot back.
The sneer slipped out before you could contain it. You pulled the cigarette from your lips and flicked ash away with a sharp snap of your fingers, grinding it out against the ashtray sitting at the edge of the van's open back door. The smell of extinguished tobacco lingered. When you turned back to him, you leaned into the edge, arms crossed tight across your chest.
Eddie stood a few feet away now, hands braced on his hips, posture bristling. His grin faltered. "I do," he huffed. "And I know exactly how much it blows." He gestured vaguely between the two of you, like his entire academic career existed in the space there. "So do your shit. The class isn't even hard."
There it was. Eddie Munson, king of detentions and academic purgatory, delivering a sermon with all the authority of a vice principal on the last thread of patience.
He shot you a sideways look before ambling back toward the van, propping himself beside you. The metal groaned under his weight. He leaned in, shoulder brushing yours, close enough to be annoying. Reaching inside, he rummaged through the van with noisy determination before resurfacing with a chocolate bar. He tore it open with his teeth.
"I'm not saying become, like, a valedictorian or whatever," he added around a mouthful, waving around the bar. "Just--don't screw Future You over. She's already got enough problems dealing with me."
You stared straight into his annoyingly soft brown puppy-dog eyes for a beat, chest tight with things you didn't feel like unpacking.
"Okay, Dad," you sorely muttered.
You pushed off the van and wandered out into the field, boots flattening the grass as you went. The expanse stretched endlessly, vibrant and verdant, dandelions stippling the green in white and yellow.
"I can find other ways to raise my gra--"
You turned, half-expecting to find Eddie still sprawled where you'd left him; leaned back against the van, shoes crossed, face arranged into that familiar mask of apathy. Instead, there was nothing. Just trampled grass and the faint imprint of where his weight had been.
A single, puzzled beat passed. Then you looked down and were slammed straight into him.
The collision was abrupt, a sudden, solid mass striking your center of gravity. The impact forced the breath from your lungs, your stomach meeting his shoulder with a dull thud. Eddie let out a victorious grunt, as the momentum carried you both backward. Your boots skidded through the grass, heels digging furrows into the earth as your hands instinctively fisted into the back of his black shirt.
"What the hell?!" you gasped.
Eddie's laughter broke loose as you shoved at his shoulders, palms striking solid muscle. He staggered with you for a couple more seconds, pivoted, then twisted his body to throw you off.
You barely caught yourself before he straightened, standing tall with a look of profound self-satisfaction etched across his face. His grin split wide, dimples gouging into his cheeks as his tongue dragged lazily over his bottom lip, an infuriating, exaggerated gesture that felt designed to provoke. And oh, how it did.
"Oh, that's how it's gonna be?" you challenged, planting your feet more firmly into the ground.
"Someone's gotta knock some sense into you, sweetheart," he shot back.
You lunged before he could get another remark out that would inevitably piss you off.
Your shoulder met his stomach this time; he grunted, arms immediately locking around you. You struggled, one of you laughing, the other hissing in effort, feet tangling as you wrestled for leverage. Then as swift as a card trick, Eddie's hands caught the hem of your shirt and yanked it over your head.
"Fucker!" you yelped, blinded, arms flailing as you twisted away and clawed the shirt back down in a graceless scramble.
"Never said it was gonna be fair!"
You didn't even have time to fully right yourself before he barreled into you again. This time, you went down, grass cushioning the fall but not the shock of it. You both hit the ground in a tangle of limbs and laughter. Eddie recovered first.
He pushed up onto his knees between your legs, looming just enough to cast a wavering shadow across your face. His hair had fallen free now, slipping loose from the bandana and spilling forward in a disordered curtain. Strands clung to the sheen of sweat along his temples, brushed the slope of his cheekbones, caught against his mouth when he breathed.
He lifted his hands ominously, wiggling them mischievously. You caught them just in time, fingers locking around the cool metal of his rings as you shoved him backward and scrambled to your feet.
"No, no, no!" you squealed, barely upright before he seized your ankle and yanked. You landed face-first with a muffled sound, grass brushing your cheek, the scent of sun-warmed earth filling your lungs. Before you could push up, his weight settled over you, pinning you in place as he sat squarely on your butt. Your whole body tensed in immediate dread.
"Wait--wait, truce!" you pleaded into the grass, breathless.
Behind you, he made a thoughtful humming sound, "Mm. I dunno..." he said slowly. "You gonna study later?"
A long second passed.
"...Fuck no!" you shouted over your shoulder.
"Then fuck the truce!" he laughed wickedly before his fingers found your sides. You exploded into laughter, helpless and now breathless. Your legs kicked uselessly behind you. Every touch sent sharp, electric bursts through you, sensation overwhelming any hope of resistance.
"Stop it--!" you gasped, words dissolving into giggles.
"Say you'll study!" he demanded, voice wild with manic delight.
"Never!" you choked out.
Then somehow, miraculously, you twisted hard enough to throw him off balance. He tipped sideways with a startled oof, and you seized the fleeting opening, scrambling onto him before he could recover.
"Tables' turned, Munson!" you declared, straddling him in shaky victory.
For exactly three seconds.
His hands caught your wrists and jerked his hips upward in one swift motion, just enough to break your balance. Suddenly the world flipped. He pinned your wrists to the ground beside your head. The shift knocked the air from you, eyes widening as you struggled instinctively beneath him.
For a moment everything narrowed. The rustle of grass. Your shared breathing. The heat of him braced over you.
His hair had fallen forward again, dark curls spilled down around his face, some brushing your forehead, others grazing your cheek when the wind shifted. One stubborn strand caught at the corner of his mouth until he exhaled sharply to move it, breath ghosting warm across your skin. From this close you could see everything, the faint stubble, the brightness in his eyes, the way exertion had flushed his cheeks.
"Looks like the tables turned again," he said, grin crooked and boyish and unbearably pleased with himself. He shook his head violently, trying to clear the hair from his face. You groaned, letting your head fall back into the grass, settling for a glare that held more exhaustion than fury.
"Are you seriously doing this," you huffed, "because you want me to do something you yourself have never done?"
"Yep." No hesitation. None. "I, Eddie Munson--" he puffed his chest slightly, mock-heroic even while pinning you to the ground--"will not allow you to follow in my academic footsteps." He leaned a fraction closer, adding, "And I'm also not getting off you until you promise to study."
One unimpressed brow lifted. "What's the point? You'll just make me do it anyway."
He said your name in warning while it threaded with something gentler underneath the theatrics. It made the fight leak out of you in a long, resigned sigh.
"...Fine," you muttered. "I promise to study. Happy?"
"Ecstatic."
The grin that spread across his face was incandescent and pure satisfaction. He released your wrists at once and pushed himself up, hopping to his feet with renewed energy. Grass clung to his jeans; he brushed it off absently before extending a ringed hand down toward you in gallantry.
You stayed propped on your elbows for a moment, staring up at him with exasperation.
Maybe he had knocked a little sense into you.
You snatched his hand and yanked down with everything you had.
He came down with a startled yelp, collapsing back into the grass in a graceless heap. You were already scrambling to your feet, laughter echoing as you bolted away across the field.
"You little shit!" he shouted behind you, half indignant, half laughing.
The wind rushed past your ears, the sunlight flashed warm across your skin with the sound of rushed footsteps tailing along behind you. And somewhere in the middle of it, between the breathless laughter and the careless tackles, you forgot--just for a while--all about that stupid test.
