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fire-emblem-drabbles · 1 year

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What Kind of Man, Indeed

Pairing: Lucas (@needleanddead oc) x reader

Prompt: I had the weirdest idea but it totally worked out

Description: In the woods, people hope to find a few things: freedom from modern life and the stress that came with it, time to relax and spend with family, what have you… You, however, find a chicken. Confused and a little concerned, you decide its up to you to protect her.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: Explicit mentions of blood, and murder; does not go into detail. Lucas is referred to as a murderer and killer (because he is), and reader is patronized by Lucas p much their entire interactions.

Word Count: 2830

Notes: Hiiii nat remember when I told you I wrote a Lucas fic <3333 found this finished but unedited in my stuff and whoo boy it needed some work (concept was done very poorly but we figured it out boys) and I'm SO excited to bring this to you guys now!!! I really like how it came out!!!

You lived away from your family, and it wasn’t often you could get the time off work to come home and see them. You had a week off from work to come up and spend some time with them. That, of course, had to start with a little family camping trip. You hadn’t gone in so many years, but the promise of cold lake water and sweet pine trees had you agreeing.

You actually hadn’t been to this particular site before. This was a smaller trip with only four of you (you, your parents, and your aunt-- the only people who could get 3 days off in a row to go) so the four of you set off with just your parents camper and your mothers car to enjoy yourself.

So much had changed since the last time you went camping, yet you couldn’t help but feel nostalgic as you sat around the fire with everyone. This time around, you were even old enough to be drinking with your parents if you so chose. You decide against it on this particular night, instead watch your family with crinkled eyes and full heart as they chatted and drank and ate all in high spirits.

“I think I’m gonna walk for a bit, anyone want to join me?” You couldn’t help but stand and stretch, wanting some time away from the sting of the campfire smoke. Your dad turns to speak to you.

“We’re all good, don’t go far though it’s getting late.” He warns you, taking another swig of his beer after he speaks.

“I won’t dad.” You smile at him, and make sure to grab the flashlight. “I got the flashlight, and my phone, and you guys are making enough noise to scare away anything that might hurt me.” You joke. “I’m only going down to the lake after all.” He nods in satisfaction, leaving you to it as he turns back to your mother and aunt.

You leave with no issue, taking the barely seen path that would lead to the lake. During the day the walk didn’t long at all, hardly 15 minutes. When that passes and you don’t have any sign of water, you know you’ve made a mistake somewhere. You pause, taking a look of your surrounds.

You can’t see the light of your families fire anymore, but their laughing and cheering can still be heard fine. Your other directions just show more woodland, with tall pines and short brush and no sign of water.

“Oh geez…” You can’t help but let out a sigh, scanning your surroundings with your flashlight once more. Even the sounds of the night were beginning to blur together-- the loons in the distance, the cicadas in the trees, the clucking of chickens….

“Wait.” You scanned over the area you just passed over, one that had signifigantly less brush in it. As you pass over the area slowly this time you can’t help but stare at the creature caught in your brights. “There’s no way that’s a chicken.” You say aloud. Still, you move in closer to the bird. It’s not at all bothered by your presence, instead mulling around your feet as if it weren’t in any danger out here at all.

“Who dumps a chicken this deep into the woods…?” You look down at the bird by your feet, unsure what to do about it or your own situation.“Ma’am, are you aware how late it is? What on earth are you doing out?” You squat down beside the hen, not knowing what else to do.

She clucks once, and merely turns her head. You admire her a moment, seeing that she looked well fed and taken care of, which makes it even weirder than she was out here alone. Still, she’s smart enough to realize that you’re big, and you could scare away predators-- another trait that tells you this was someones pet or livestock.

“Can I pick you up?” You ask, as if she could answer. Even though you’re also lost, you would feel bad if you just left this chicken to fend for herself.

You give her a hesitant pet, which she doesn’t seem to mind. You pick her up with careful hands, having never really held a chicken before, but she settles rather nicely in your arms. In fact, your cat struggles more than this when you hold him.

“Well, okay.” Chicken tucked under your left arm, and flashlight held in your right, you rise to your feet once more, deciding to just turn back the way you came and go to the lake when it was light out.

No sooner then you do does a piercing scream run through the forest. It makes your blood run cold; it sounded just like your mother. You turn to that direction, aimlessly charging in the direction you heard it. Your heartbeat only picks up more as you hear more screams-- surely your aunt and your father.

You don’t know whats happening. You haven’t been this scared in your life Was their a large animal back at your camp? A bear, a cougar? And was everyone okay?

You apparently hadn’t wandered off too far because within minutes, you can see the color of your fire. You pick up the pace, heart jumping into your throat as you hear signs of a struggle. You turn off your light as you approach, and try to figure out whats happening. You can’t help but feel you need to remain quiet.

When you can finally see whats happening, tears spring to your eyes. Close by, you see your mother laying on the ground. She’s covered in blood from a wound you can’t immediately see. It doesn’t look like shes breathing. Beside her, your aunt; she’s bloodied as well, slumped over as if trying to help her before being struck down herself. Behind their forms, you can see two men. Your dad was the only one one this trip though-- your brothers and cousins couldn’t make it.

Maybe that was for the better.

Your dad is hurt you realize with horror. He’s got a large cut on his left arm. But still, he’s fighting off whoever it was that invaded your sanctuary. He’s struggling for the ax in the mans hand. You can’t move, can’t take your eyes off the fight in front of you. When it seems your dad gets a grip on the weapon, it slips out of his fist-- the blood that ran off his arms making his hand slick.

He falls to the ground, splayed back on his back by the fallen forms of your mother and aunt. You wince and hold the chicken close to you as your fathers scream is silenced by the sickening sound of an ax cuts through his chest.

Again and again and again and again. Until, with one eye daring to peak open, he doesn’t move, doesn’t scream. Silence fills your campsite, where even the crackle of the fire seems to die down in the horror that just took place.

The mystery man—your families murderer—stands up straight after the job is done, pushing back graying hair. If he notices the blood on his face, in his hair, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t notice you, you think.

That is, until the chicken, the dumb chicken you randomly found in the woods, makes a noise of discomfort at how hard you hold her. You gasp and hurriedly lessen your grip but the damage has already been done.

Crazed eyes turn to you. You’ve never seen blood lust in someones eyes like this before. Even from several feet away, across the fire, it has you shivering. As he watches you now, your feet are still stuck to the ground. You speak before you can think not too.

“You… you killed my dad. My mama… my auntie…” Your tears make it hard to see but you swear, the look of rage is immediately swept off his face. “W-why?”

Suddenly, your knees can’t support you. You fall down in a heap. To your horror, the man is approaching you. He doesn’t have his weapon raised, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. He’s speaking to you, you realize. He didn’t make hardly a sound while butchering your family, but now that he sees you, he speaks.

“You found my girl…” He crosses over to where you are easily. You didn’t notice how tall he was until he’s upon you, squatting down until his towering form in right in front of yours. He reeks of blood, of sweat and fatigue.

“Where did you get to, Dolly?” He ignores you a moment in favor of the chicken you held. She wiggles out of your now limp grip, eagerly running to the man. He sets aside his weapon and pets the chicken affectionately. The sight of him coddling a chicken while covered in your families blood has to be the picture of irony.

It fills you with a hatred so vile, so sickening, all you want to do is attack him—tackle him to the ground and demand he answer for the lives he’s taken. But you can’t even move from the spot your frozen to. Even your throat, seized with your grief, can barely let pass your sobs. You’ve never felt so powerless, so weak in the face of true evil.

“Why did you do this?” You’re unsure how you manage to speak the words, twisted by pure emotions going through you. You don’t know why you’re not dead, too. “My parents… my…” Instead, you weep into your open hands. What else was there to do?

“Oh darlin…” His voice is so, so gentle. He reaches out, places a bloodied hand on your shoulder. You can’t help but shudder in disgust as you feel the blood of your family touch your skin.

“P-please don’t t.. touch me…” You don’t know why you bother begging or bartering with a killer, but your words don’t stop as you pull your face up. “J-just kill me. I-I… I can’t…!” You again cry out, uncaring if he saw you. This man, this killer, makes a soft, sweet coo at your words. He moves even closer to you, until he’s pulled you into his arms. You don’t how the strength or will to push him away.

“Now why would I hurt something as sweet as you?” His words make you want to cry even more. You try to even your breathing, to fight him, to hurt him, to do anything. But you just stay limp in his arms, crying and gasping and trying to get your breathing back to normal. All you can do is cry, cry into the arms of your families killer.

It takes several minutes for you to stop openly bawling. You’re so embarrassed, so upset, so angry. In that time, this man, this killer, has pulled you into an awkward hug, holding you tightly in his embrace. He tries to console you, using gentle words and sweet tones to tell you that you’ll be okay, that you’re okay, that he won’t hurt you. When you finally feel well enough to speak, you pull away from him. He keeps you in his grip, but allows you the freedom to look up at his face and speak.

“Why won’t you kill me?” Your voice is the clearest it’s been since you’ve come back to camp. You surprised you can talk with him, look at him without crying. Without screaming or yelling. “Why am I different?” Tears still glisten in your eyes, still streak down your cheeks.

“Don’t worry about that.” His tone is so dismissive. As if he’s had to answer this question so many times before. “You’re…” He pauses but shakes his head. “It doesn’t really matter. I should get you home.”

“Home?” The word feels hollow in your throat. You didn’t have a home anymore-- not with your family dead.

“With me.” He smiles at you, as if he has any right. Like he’s doing you a favor. You don’t think you could hate someone as much as you do him.

“P-please don’t do this.” All you can think to do is beg. You feel pathetic.

You think he likes that.

“You don’t have to worry about anything darlin. I’ll take care of you.” It’s as if he doesn’t hear you. Maybe he hasn’t this whole time-- maybe he saw you as helpless and pathetic as the chicken milling around the two of you. Maybe to him, your just the same as a helpless chicken lost in the woods. Out of place, and needing someone bigger and stronger to protect and guide them...

He helps you to your feet. Your legs are still unsteady—none of you really feels solid. Still, before you can crumble to the ground once again he catches you against himself. You think you might hate yourself more than you do him, for having to rely on him like this. As you lean into him, and look into green eyes, you can’t help but ask.

“...What’s your name?” It shouldn’t matter, but it does right now. You needed something to ground you—a name you could connect all these emotions with. He seems pleased that you’ve become interested in him. Or at least, disinterested in what happened here.

“Call me Lucas.” His name shouldn’t be so simple. So mundane.

“Lucas…” He perks up at hearing his name come from your lips. You want to ask more, but your questions have all been ignored. Redirected. Still, your lips move to speak. “Why are you doing this?” You’ve never felt so small as you do with him guiding you into the woods, supporting you with one gentle hand and carrying his lost chicken with another just as slight touch.

“...You looked liked you needed some protectin, is all. What kind of man would I be if I left you alone like this?”

What kind of man indeed.

You don’t speak any more as he leads you away from the camp you and your family had made. Lucas is all too happy to fill the silence, navigating the woods with no need of any light. You’re not surprised when he takes you to a small cabin in the woods. You don’t know how long the walk was, but it couldn’t be too far from where your family had set up for camp. It makes you wonder.

Were you even the first group of people Lucas had come across in the woods? ...Would you be the last?

“I don’t think I ever got your name, sugar.” You don’t know how you found yourself in the small cabin. It feels like your grandmothers house. Cluttered but comfortable. The anxiety you feel here is far different, though. When you don’t answer, he just sighs.

“You must be tired… I’ll let you take the bed.” Along the way, you’re able to find your feet. Lucas leads you to a room that is rather bare bones-- a dresser, a bed and not much else you can see in the dim light. Still, it looks lived in. He a stands beside you a moment as you take in the room.

“Ah, you can’t sleep in that. I’ll fetch you something—just stay here.” You watch wordless as he goes. You can hear him shuffle around a moment, opening a closet or a drawer. As he said, he’s back before you know it. Holding a large shirt and another blanket.

“It gets cold here at night, but you probably already knew that.” He hands you the two items with a little smile. He acts as if he’s done this all before. “I’ll leave you to it then… I’ll be out on the couch. Just holler if you need me.” He gives you a final once over before leaving the room. The door locks with a deafening click behind him.

You don’t change into the shirt. The blanket he gave you sits folded on the edge of the bed. Even as you sit gently on the bed, and take a deep breath, it doesn’t feel real.

This place smells like him. Like iron and sweat, of campfires and something sinister. You don’t know how he expects you to sleep. When you close your eyes, all you can see is the piled bodies of your loved ones. Carelessly left to rot in a place where all they wanted was to relax. Left in this room alone, you can’t find it in you to be scared any more. You want to scream and yell and throw a fit, you want to go back to your families corpses and beg them to come to life.

You want Lucas to hurt like you do.

But, you’re not that kind of person. You’re someone who needs protecting. And Lucas was gonna do that for you, whether you liked it or not. Precious thing like you can’t do much about it, anyways.

#oc x reader #murderoc x reader #yandere x reader #he's not really in this but just wait #lucas x reader #needleanddead #hiiii nat I love you!!!#and your old man!!!#murder canibal pepaw can get it!#oh reader don't even know #gotta ask to borrow other peoples ocs more often I love this

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