ㅤ─┈ the stellaron hunter could be greedy, could be selfish if he so wished; but even he knew that this greed of his will lead to nothing more but a heartbreak. this doesn’t stop him, though.
ㅤ─┈ blade x gender neutral reader.
❪⠀themes : angst & comfort, blade being blade, the eventual pain of parting with someone you love because of what you do.⠀❫
as blade gazes at the interstellar space before him, he lets his thoughts consume him whole. he know it’s a horrible idea—his thoughts are anything but pleasant, plagued by the horrible past he is chained to, but it is difficult to reign in himself when it concerns you.
at first, he merely thought of it as simple infatuation; a fleeting thought that will soon pass as he approaches his goal, foregoing anything—even his humanity.
still, you occupied his thoughts like a stubborn vermin. you refused to leave his mind; everything about you was everything he was supposed to detest. righteous, with an honorable streak that he thinks he used to have. perhaps blade was being too generous with himself. he could never compare to you.
but that mere infatuation blossomed into something more and blade detests it. he hates how it makes him feel emotions that he thought he was no longer capable of. you were a thorn in his side, one that he can’t seem to get rid of no matter how much he wanted to.
“you love me.” you stated back then—your eyes glimmering, and the stars in the galaxy cannot compare to the beauty of yours. blade scoffed, his own hues boring into yours. “cocky. you seem to have mistaken my generosity for your life for something else.” blade responded with a finality in his tone; a warning in his sharp words.
you stepped closer to him; close, until blade can see the flecks in your hues, can gaze at the lashes that fluttered with your blinks. until blade is enveloped by only you and his thoughts are full of you and your annoyingly pretty face.
“i am not cocky—with how you treat me, it is impossible to not notice, blade.” you whispered, your voice akin to the silk that caresses your porcelain skin. blade scoffs, again, and it makes you smile. “perhaps you think of me as oblivious, or maybe even unbelievable, but i know what i see, blade.” the way you looked at him made the edges of his hair stand—it made his fingers twitch for anything to put distance between the two of you.
all because he couldn’t hide his damn feelings.
“so what will it be, blade?” you cock your head to the side, that infuriating smile on your face—unafraid of staring down a man hunted across the universe. as if his own feelings were enough to deter him from simply thrusting his weapon through you.
and he, once again, despises that your way of thinking is correct.
he should pull away; put some distance between the both of you. laugh at your face and call you arrogant for thinking a stellaron hunter could ever fall in love—but if he did that, then wouldn’t that be lying to himself? he’s never been a good liar—both to others, and to himself. he could never deceive himself, no matter how much deceit he weaves in his words.
instead, he finds himself waking to the sound of your soft snores. he finds his figners graze the gentle slopes of your nose, to the softness of your cheeks. he finds himself gazing at your lashes that flutter as you squeeze your eyes slightly, murmuring out incomprehensible words from your parted lips. he thinks it’s in the lines of: “get away.”
he is being selfish, again. once he catches up with his past—and isn’t that ironic, because isn’t it usually the past catching up to others?—he will have to leave you. he’ll have to look away and turn his back on you, in order to accomplish what he wishes to do.
in a way, you knew that. you knew the inevitable, the happy ending you dreamt of was merely that. a dream that couldn’t come true. if eliot himself has deduced that there is no way for an ending for you both, then what else can he do?
he should have pulled away that day. instead, he let himself be swept up in your charming words and in the way your eyes captivated him; how your words spun him around until he was putty in your arms, yearning for more, wanting for the only thing that could never be his.
blade doesn’t find himself regretting that he chose to take your hand, though. he doesn’t let himself because if he did—well, wouldn’t that mean his feelings were simply too shallow? perhaps this was the universe’s way of challenging him, bending him to the will the fates have decided.
as he gazes at your prone form next to him, hand gently wrapped in his as you breathed—consciousness deep into a dreamland, blade squeezes your hand softly.
if the universe cannot let you both be together, then blade will simply have to find a universe that will allow it. if that doesn’t come true, then blade will bend the whims of the universe to his command.
