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crabsnpersimmons · 3 months

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Tally

had this idea for a drabble to share a bit more on Moon’s upgrades in the hairdresser AU, since there was some interest about a certain detail mentioned in my previous post (that "last part")

Word Count: 1,567

Read time: ~8 min

some content warnings:

descriptions of body dysmorphia including descriptions of skin picking, which borderline self harm on a metal robot body—i took a lot of creative liberties to translate the signs and symptoms into a robot experience, so it isn’t meant to be the most realistic depiction of body dysmorphia disorder, but just a head's up just in case

descriptions of memories of past traumatic experiences

just angst overall

that’s all i can think of, but please let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to add!

“Home sweet home~!” Eclipse warbles once Moon opens the door to their small apartment. Without missing a beat, he bends down and slips through the door frame, with his precious cargo still on his back.

“Clip! Put me down first!” Sun cries from his position in their little piggyback. He scrunches himself closer to the taller bot’s back as they pass through the threshold, his sunken in rays only barely missing the top of the door frame.

Moon chuckles as Eclipse makes a bee-line for their box TV. It’s the same every day, but he never got tired of it. After closing up shop for the day, they returned home. Unfortunately Sun’s legacy code prevented him from moving about in the dark. That didn’t stop him from trying each night after closing—marching with his eyes glued to street lamps until he ran out of light. Then Eclipse would carry him the rest of the way to the bus stop, where he’d just stay until they got returned to their apartment. The lights of the hallways would stir Sun back awake, but Eclipse always insisted on carrying him the rest of the way to their door—just as he always had since their days in the daycare.

Different city, different space, different jobs—but Eclipse never seemed to change.

Still carrying Sun with one set of arms, he plops himself down in front of the TV and pulls out his game controller with other set. Once Sun extracts himself, his free hands immediately reach for the other controller.

As the old game system is booting up, Moon moves to make a quiet escape.

“Moon,” but Sun knew him too well. “Bedroom.”

There is a whir of fans before Moon responds, “Aye aye, captain.”

No sooner had Moon entered their bedroom that Sun had joined him. Their room was always small—they could only afford so much with their combined income—but it always felt smaller when the sunshine bot cornered him like this.

Silently, Moon turns around, not looking his counterpart in the eye. Instead, Sun extends his hand into his field of vision, waiting. This is not the first time, but it never gets easier for either of them. After a beat, Moon lifts his own bulky hand and places it in Sun’s slender palm. Sun gives him a gentle squeeze before rolling up his counterpart’s sleeve to reveal his blue arm, marked in fine silver trails.

There is a brief pause before Sun leads Moon to their ensuite bathroom and sits him down on the closed seat of the toilet. He looks away for a brief moment just to take out his amateur tools from the drawer. Just a collection of things he has scavenged for basic upkeep. Of course none of this was in his programming. But just as he resolutely marched under streetlamps, Sun pushed his code to its limits to keep them afloat. He sits down on a nearby stool and gets to work on Moon’s right arm where six thin trails shined against the royal blue.

He gets to work and there is silence between them. Before there used to be angry and desperate cries. When Sun discovered his first scar, he insisted he go to parts and services. But they both knew he wouldn’t go back there. Never.

So they had to improvise—and that is what they have always excelled at. Things got easier in that regard after the PizzaPlex had burned down. They could finally leave those walls, leave their troubled past, carve out lives for themselves, care for themselves. They lucked out finding the Boss when they did and now they can do honest work and get paid and live. Finally live.

But still their troubled past stains their new lives. The PizzaPlex may be a long forgotten memory, but they still bear scars and quirks that run deeper than chipped surface paint or legacy processes. Despite all these years in this body, Moon still bumps into things, miscalculating his size and reach. All it took was a bump against his utility cart this afternoon to make him acutely aware of the arm that is not his. The ball-joint neck that cannot move the way he wants it to. The clunky fingers and the foreign nails. They are not his. They are not his. And he is thrust back into the brightly light cylinder, waking up again to a body that isn't his. Waking up again to a role he never asked for. Waking up with piece of him missing. Wondering if the body he remembers is just a dream and he needed to learn to wake up, wake up, wake up--

“You’ve got to stop doing this.”

Sun’s voice breaks him out of his thoughts—and he knows this. Perhaps that’s why Sun is always nagging him. To fill his head with something useful again.

“Some of these scratches can’t be buffed out, and there’s only so much I can do,” Sun works on a light scratch on his left hand.

“And you won’t see a mechanic,” Sun tuts.

“No.”

“I know,” Sun sighs, letting go of the scratch. It’s barely visible now, the kind of imperfection you would have to know about and intentionally look for. The kind that Moon keeps a tally of. His body is covered with tally marks that only he can see.

“But either you stop or I will take you to the mechanic… or,” Sun’s hands drift down to Moon’s hand, holding his fingers gently. “…I disable your retractable claw function.”

“Ha,” the short laugh spills out of Moon before he can think to stop it. “Not when I’m the only one who can give proper hair washes.”

There is a slight pause before Sun pulls his hands away and lightly knocks Moon’s head. “Well, if your claws are sharp enough to carve metal, I don’t want them anywhere near our customer's heads. Besides, we have Sunshine who can help with that now.”

Moon hums uncommittedly, staring at Sun's handiwork at erasing his. Out of the corner of his eye he notices a sway in Sun’s steps as he puts away his tools. As much as Sun pushes his code to the limits and watches over him, Moon also watched out for him. They were, after all, once one. No one knows them better than they do.

Moon’s hand rises up Sun’s arm. “Bed time?”

“Yeah,” Sun says wearily. Even with the lights on, his battery was running low, after a full day of work, walking under street lamps, and fixing Moon's mistakes. The least Moon can do is play this role—a role he gladly performs.

Moon nods as he reaches out to steady Sun before connecting to their shared internal chat.

M: Clip. Sun and I are going to sleep.

E: K.

S: Don’t stay up too late. Make sure you charge up.

E: K.

With that, Moon helps Sun to their bed. They could only afford a one-bedroom apartment, and even then their landlord definitely wasn't too keen about renting to three large robots, and their lack of credit history. It was only thanks to a referral from Boss that they landed the place. But they couldn't complain. There are robots, the don't really need to sleep in bedrooms, but they had one so they might as well use it.

Moon assists Sun into bed before stepping back to get the lights. He watches as Sun plugs in his charging cable in before lying down on the pillows. His eyes never leave Sun’s as darkness falls on the room.

There is the familiar whirring sound of gears moving as rays retract and metal shifts colour. If Moon closes his eyes, he could almost feel those gears in himself. Grinding away. Putting Sun in his nap. And him waking from his own slumber. Him coming alive. Waking in his own body.

S: Moon.

There he goes, filling his head again. Even when powered down, Sun still watches over him. Moon hums in response and shuffles to the bed. His eyes never leave Sun as the bed dips from the added weight, as he slots himself up next to Sun. One arm slips under the gap between his neck and the bed. The other goes over, holding him in place. His legs find their place behind the bend of Sun’s.

His upper hand rubs circles on the familiar surface. Where these hands had left scratches on blue metal, they now caressed the smaller yellow surface.

Different city, different space, but at least he can still hold his body. Although it is not the same colour, it still feels like he remembers. The slenderness of the forearms. Every fine joint in the long fingers. He pulls Sun closer, if only to be closer, if only to be himself again.

But a hard pressure against his chest stops him every time.

Behind layers of clothes, the inflexible metal underneath always keeps them apart. Never flush together when they are in this position. It will always be there to jab into his chest every time he tries.

A reminder of how far he’s fallen.

thank you for reading!

want something to cheer you up? go and check out the meme art i shared yesterday! Moon is there to hug that sad away!

want more heartbreak? look verrrry closely at moon's arms in that meme art (or if it's hard to see the image description in the ALT mentions it)

#fnaf moon #fnaf dca #dca fandom #New Do Same You AU #hairdresser au #oh man my hands are so cold i'm nervous #i don't usually share my writing #but this is good practice if i want to write and share the full fic eventually #so i hope you like it!#don't worry sun and eclipse have their own fair share of trauma #and with trauma there will eventually be triumph even just the smallest bit there will be #might share a silly drabble next to balance out this one!#we'll see we'll see!#crab writes

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mctherofdragons · 3 years

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Against the Tides | 5 | F. W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

AU: Pirate!AU; Muggle!AU; Historical!AU

Summary: The year is 1710. The Duchess is kidnapped by Captain Fred Weasley, the most notorious and blood thirsty pirate of the age. Aboard his ship, The Midnight Rose, love, lust, and longing collide on the high seas.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, fluff, kidnapping, fred is a pirate for god’s sake don’t come for me, kissing, gets a little steamy but no sex, physical illness (not serious), yelling, fred grabs her arm, crying, angry fred, captivity, alludes to trauma, self harm, i didn’t edit this, again he’s a fucking pirate don’t send me hate thanks.

A/N: Thank you all so much for waiting for me during my little break! I had so much to sort through in my own mind and heart. I am feeling much better and I’m grateful you were all so supportive of me during that time. This chapter is not very long, and serves as more of a ‘filler’ but none the less I hope you all enjoy it. I’m so excited to continue this story <3 I love it so dearly!

I do not consent for my work to be published or translated anywhere without my permission.

Series Masterlist.

Taglist: @oh-for-merlins-sake @minty-malfoy @slytherinlovesgryffindor @futureofanthropology @inglourious-imagines @sinz-and-tragediez @acourtofsnakes @vivianweasley @n3ssm0nique @cruciostyles @whizboingies @shadowsinger11 @whitewineandpizzapuffs @gcdric @the–queen-of-hell @gloryekaterina @hogwartslut @theanxietyqueen17 @vogueweasley @blossomweasley @asthmax @ilovejjmaybank @theweasleytwinsgirl @tyyyweasley @feetoffthetablee @thisismynerdyself @wandsandwheezes @loony-loopy-lupinn @missmercurymoon @willowyreads @l-adysansa @arcadianmoonlight @weasley-x-wheezes @lumosandnoxwriting @darthwheezely please message me to be added/removed from my taglist).

______________________

It had been days now since you shared your first kiss with the captain. It was new to you - the way his lips felt when they brushed yours, sending chills down your spine. The feeling of his kisses caused your heart to flutter in your chest. You had allowed Captain Weasley to steal kisses as much as possible, delighting in the way he would come to you just for a few moments of restless kissing. Captain Weasley found solace in the sweet and pure moments you spent with him. You would giggle when his hands found their way to your hips. Your chastity was something newfound for him. It reminded him of the innocence that had long been taken from him.

Fred had taken quickly to doting on you. The crew took notice as well, pretending not to recognize the way he had been going easier on you. His eyes would soften when he saw you, losing their usual shade of darkness.

“Hello, treasure,” He would greet, pulling you away from the eyes of the crew. He would go in for a soft and longing kiss. Your back was often pressed against the damp walls of the ship. Sometimes, his rough hand would wander up to place a thumb on your cheek with the other fingers behind your ear, pulling the kiss deeper than before. You had allowed Fred to play with the soft fabric atop your breasts, but never much more. He savored those touches regardless, due to the way they’d let his mind wander to what it would be like to make love to you.

_________

The days passed by slowly. Eventually, you stopped questioning the Captain about how far you were from home. In fact, you had begun to wish somewhere deep inside of you that maybe he would never return you. The truth of the matter was that Captain Weasley knew exactly where the ship was. He would have been able to get you home in just a few days’ time. But the thought of saying goodbye to you cut him to the quick, and so, he purposely steered the ship in the opposite direction. He felt only a small amount of guilt for deceiving you. After all, the joy and warmth you brought him was a small sacrifice for a lie.

The Captain had even surprised you with a chest of books when you stopped at another port. He had gestured to the chest absentmindedly as he read a map, only glancing up when he heard you gasp. You had torn through the chest, pulling out all of your favorite books. “Oh Captain! You shouldn’t have. Where did you get these?”

“Some poor bastard left his cart unattended. Anyway, you said you were lonely, and that you missed readin’.”

You dropped a copy of Romeo and Juliet as you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He dropped his compass, letting you straddle each side of him. You kissed him softly and he leaned back in his seat. Fred moved to plant soft kisses behind your ear, eliciting a soft gasp from you.

“That feels good, eh, Duchess?”

He kissed your sweet spot again, letting the smell of rum fill your senses. You felt an unfamiliar flush rush between your legs and you climbed off him quickly, straightening your dress out with both hands.

“It’s not proper.”

“It isn’t anything to be ashamed of, Duchess.”

“It simply isn’t done, Captain. I’m betrothed.”

“I know.”

He turned away quickly, going back to focusing on what he had been doing before. You looked up at him as you grabbed a book, going to sit comfortably in his hammock. You were chewing your lip, deep into the story, unable to notice the way he looked at you without you noticing.

You turned a page of your book, closing it, before setting it on your lap. You fixed your dress again, cocking your head as you began to spoke. “Why are you being so kind to me, Captain Weasley? Letting me sleep here? Stealing books for me?”

“Pretty to look at,” he said, a small laugh coming from somewhere deep inside of him as he took a swig of rum. His eyes raked over you and you felt your skin flush scarlet, going back to burying your face into the pages of Shakepeare’s Othello.

__________________

You were laying in his bed, listening to the sound of his breathing. He sounded a bit stuffy, if you were honest, and it worried you. When his eyes opened, he let out a small groan, reaching up to place a tattooed hand on his head.

“You sound ill, Captain,” you noted, placing the back of your soft and petite hand on his forehead. “Thank heavens. No fever.”

“I’m not ill,” he grumbled, going to stand up quickly but shortly landing back to sitting on the bed. Fred put his hand on his head again, shutting his eyes tightly as his ears rang and his head pounded. You cooed, crawling over closer to him. You looked over his shoulder as you placed your hand on his bicep.

“Lay back down, please, and let me make you a cup of tea?”

“I’m fine, Duchess…”

Perhaps it was his recent kind gestures, but you were no longer afraid of the Captain like you were before. Fred’s soft side had become more apparent. Sometimes, you even forgot he was your captor, enjoying being in his company. You pouted a bit and he cracked the smallest smile. “Y/n, it is mighty kind that you want to baby me, but I’ll be fine.”

There was a small rap on the door and you blushed, getting out of his bed before any of the crew got wild ideas about what you were doing there in the first place. You busied yourself with straightening up his desk.

“Come in,” Fred said, going to grab his boots but becoming wobbly on his feet. He let out a loud sneeze, shocking even himself. You looked at him, giving him a knowing gaze.

The door opened and Lee Jordan entered, tipping his hat to you. Fred glanced at you, and then back at his first mate.

“Jordan, why don’t you take over my duties for today? I’m not well.”

The Captain had caved and it took everything in you to not rejoice in triumph. Lee looked surprised but nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

“Don’t let this ship go under or I’ll have your skin, Jordan.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Now, get out.”

You smiled, leaning down to light the fire under Fred’s kettle. You poured him a hot cup of tea, bringing it over to where he was sitting in bed. He coughed a bit, taking a small sip of tea.

“You must have gotten a cold from being damp and freezing.”

Fred had been out in the cold the night before, barking demands at the men as they went through another tempest. He had come back to his cabin soaking wet, shivering from the cool temperatures.

You curled up next to him, placing your head on his shoulder. “Is this alright?”

Captain Weasley hesitated before he spoke again. “...Yes.”

You looked at him, watching his eyes flutter shut slightly. “Tell me your story, Captain.”

“What do you mean? You’re the one with your head in a book.”

Fred closed his eyes. In his mind, he could feel the comfort of his childhood bedroom. As clear as day, he swore he could hear Ginny’s little giggle out in the sitting room. He and George were running around the room, playing with the wooden swords Arthur had carved for them - a special Christmas present. They would play pirates, unbeknownst of the irony in their childhood joys. In the same vision, he saw George’s body again, cold and lifeless on the ground.

He tore his eyes open, staring up at the maroon canopy above him.

“Not a story, Captain, your story.”

“I don’t have a story, Duchess. Please, leave it be.”

“Everyone has a story. Even you.”

You poked his chest playfully, playing with the top button of his shirt.

He reached up, moving your hand off of him. “Stop.”

You sat up, clearly not used to being told ‘no’. Of course, as a Duchess, what you wanted was always given to you. It was a discomfort to be denied something you desired - even something seemingly silly.

“Freddie-”

At the sound of the nickname, Fred felt his entire body tense up. It was the last thing his mother had said when she closed him inside of the wardrobe, never to return to him again. Hearing another person call him that sent fear through his entire being. He was afraid to get close to you because he knew the deep-seated truth that you were only his for a fleeting moment.

The happiness once existent faded from his eyes and he quickly rose from his bed, pulling you out by your arm. He would push you away before you got any closer to him. Fred knew he couldn’t protect his mother from the monsters. But now, he was the phantom, and he was determined to keep you guarded.

“I’m done playing this silly game with you, Duchess.”

“What ever are you talking--”

Fred dragged you toward the door and you could not help but follow behind, trying to keep up as he pulled you. You fought tears, unsure of what you had done to upset him.

He pulled you down the stairs, using his free hand to open up the cell he had been keeping you in originally. “Captain, please, talk to me,” you felt tears filling your own eyes. It was only then, as you looked up, you saw warm tears streaming down his face. His brown eyes looked brighter as they glistened.

He pushed you gently inside of the cell, slamming the door with a loud bang. His hands shook as he turned the key. He couldn’t remember the last time someone saw him cry. He felt embarrassed, but more so, he felt foolish for putting you in danger. Loving you was a losing game and all he wanted to do was keep you safe. He was falling for you faster than he could keep up with. His only defense was to retreat back into his role as a wretched villain in your story.

The only problem was that you had long forgotten him as a sinful pirate. Now, you had become to see him shed his harsh exterior. The light and warmth that emitted from his true self was not something that could be faked, and you knew it. As he stood before you crying, you longed to kiss his lips. You yearned to pull him close and wipe his tears away, using your lips to meet his dripping cheeks with affection.

“Fred, please, I...talk to me.”

Captain Weasley brought his hands up to the bars, slamming on them once more. His rings caused a loud, metallic sound to clang in your ears. “You do not know anything! You spoiled little rich girl! You think you do but you don’t.”

“Teach me,” you begged but he banged on the bars again.

“Be quiet! Jordan will be down with your supper.”

Fred wiped his tears quickly, adjusting his keys back onto his belt. He felt for his dagger, letting his thumb run of it. Just slightly, he let it slice into his skin, relishing in the pain that came soon after. He ignored the sounds of you banging on the bars, calling out to him. You were better off - or so he told himself.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley #weasley twins

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