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iwaasfairy · 1 year

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┌─ “ ! „ TWO OF CUPS .04.

tw. incest, dubcon, coercion, size kink, belly bulge, praise, hair pulling, a lot of emotional bs, jealousy, angst, love triangle wordcount. 7k

part 01 part 02 part 03 fin.

a/n. it has come. the end has come, she's here, it's over and the witch is dead (i'm the witch, this killed me a little inside but i'm very glad to have it finished). as always i would love to hear your interpretations and thoughts about this chapter and story in general because i feel like there's a lot here thats,, up for interpretation and discussion and yea <33 and ty ty ty a million to @seijorhi and @darlingsanzu for beta-ing for me i am in your debt forever and ever

itoshi rin x fem!reader x itoshi sae

He imagines if it were anywhere else, the room would be covered in a thin layer of dust by now. But it isn’t, courtesy of a caring, fretful mother— the room remains in pristine, paled stasis. Instead every old textbook, every picture frame and the ancient soccer jerseys have been dutifully cleaned, and are splayed out in front of him like a near-perfect copy of his childhood. Sae runs his fingers along the length of the desk as he slowly drags himself around the room in a circle, before coming to a halt in front of the bookshelf.

His parents were as surprised as any to see him home, considering he should be ready to head back to Spain soon, with the upcoming season and all. And truthfully, he had been ready to call his bumbling excuse for a manager two days ago. Should’ve landed splayed out in yet another sterile hotel room in a place he doesn’t care to explore hours ago. So he blankly wishes he could play pretend at amazement too. It isn’t very surprising that in his time of uncertainty, he finds himself here- where he used to keep you locked in his arms under thick blankets. He hasn’t been back home in a while. And not unlike other times, there’s a nagging voice in the back of his head.

He picks apart the perfect little shrine of accomplishments of his childhood room by pulling the picture frame up to his face, can’t help but frown at the sight. There’s a younger him -years before he joined Real Madrid- sweaty, sore ankles and exhausted on a bench, and right beside the youthful reflection of his own maroon-haired head, sits a girl a couple years younger. Her cheeks chubby and raised as the beaming smile shines all the way though the flimsy picture paper- and your arms wrapped endlessly tight around his stomach as joyous tears glitter on your lashes.

He won that match, of course, but that uneventful match out of thousands before it wasn’t why the picture landed itself a spot in the middle of his most cherished valuables. You were. The memory of your heart beating into him like a drum, of how it felt to be adored by you. Adoration that had gotten stale years before you’d started giving your all to him— felt different when it came from someone with no deeper motives. When all he’d ever given you was an unending game of playing catch-up.

His hand twitches with the urge to toss the picture back down with the rest of his sentimental crap. He doesn’t bother to put it back in place, pushing it aside for the tiered trophy that looks much too big among his other old belongings. The gold layer gleams in the low light of his room as he takes it off of the shelf, and his frown digs deeper into his face.

But a soft clearing of a throat by the door makes him look up. His mother smiles as she appraises the room, and then him. “I’m making you a protein smoothie. I know you probably won’t stay the night but-”

“I’m driving up to the airport tonight,” he breathes out, trying his best to force the distaste off of his face. His mother nods again, and then steps inside almost cautiously, as if not to disturb the peace of the past. Ironic, Sae thinks, considering. He only came here to do exactly that. Nothing in the Itoshi house is sacred, hasn’t been for years. After a few seconds he plops the trophy onto the desk, and stares down at the woman before him with a deep sigh. “You came in here to say something, right? What’s up?”

You spend enough time with people over the years, you learn their tells. The reddish brunette starts picking at the pictures thumb-tacked above his desk before she speaks. “You stayed over at Rin’s for a few days… We haven't seen either of your siblings in a while.” A pointless starter, because they both know these facts. She’s stalling, tiptoeing around any point worth making.

“Oh, yeah,” he breathes. She could ask about his sudden visit. Or about Rin’s blatant dismissal of going anywhere that you won’t follow. Could ask about what Sae himself did to you. Maybe he’d finally be able to give a straight answer, if she dared. But she doesn’t, and Sae goes back to thumbing through the old photo album tucked away behind a mess of medals. His mother hums.

“You know we’ve tried to raise them to be respectful, and Rin’s shown promise. But your sister—”

Sae’s somewhat of a sadist, he thinks. To everyone around him, but also to himself. Coming here was a surefire way to land himself into shit, and yet... “They’re both in Tokyo and they get along well, mom. What’s the problem with living together?”

“Your father and I think your little sister should start letting you two live your own lives. I know she means well, but isn’t she a little too old to be so- well— you know how she is.” It once again is anything but a compliment. He knows how you are. Sure, folded in angles no brother should ever know his little sister, maybe. It makes a slight breath escape his nose like a laugh, but there’s nothing funny about it. “How else will she ever accomplish—”

“She’s fine! I’m fine, Rin’s fine— and it’s not like you ever cared, anyways. As long as we all hold up your precious standards, you don’t really bother to care, right?” The ticking of his internal alarm reaches zero, as he turns around to stare her down with thinly veiled impatience. “Your constant shit-stirring is what started this whole mess.” No wonder you grew into a codependent ball of emotion. What else could you do than let him kiss your mouth in the peace of night when he begged you to stay. What else could you do than let Rin sink all his problems into the warmth of you.

Your parents don't have the slightest idea of who any of them are, not really. It could hit them in the face and still somehow miss them. It’s almost amusing.

Her face goes red in the cheeks, sharp eyebrows starting to slant into the irritated grimace that he’s more used to. “What ‘whole mess’? What, what? I’m at fault for being concerned? I would expect you to know by now, Sae. Your little sister’s a needy, unstable girl with no further prospects like you two! And Rin-”

“She probably loves Rin more than you and dad combined ever could. She’s been to every match. Not you, her.” His voice is low and final as he meets the sea blue eyes aimed at him head-on. “And Lord knows no husband will ever look at her like Rin does. But of course you’re too enamored with your ‘perfect children’ bullshit to understand what goes on.” He breezes past the accosted breath of his mother clutching her collar, before walking with long steps towards the door, and letting out a sharp chuckle. “Don’t talk to me about my own little sister. I know who she is.”

The street is too bright and prim for his liking, as he walks up the porch toward the building— slowly dragging himself after you as you hesitate at the threshold. Even your absent-minded humming doesn’t make his nerves any less frayed, moving his jaw back and forth when you bury your face back into the papers as if you have any clue what you’re doing. Long enough for his foot to start tapping a rapid rhythm, before he finally nudges your chin up to look up his way. “Hey, we don’t have to do this. You don’t- I…” There’s a distance between you two that seems to grow with each passing second. “This is silly,” he ends on saying, unwilling to dampen the barely-there brightness in your eyes for the first time in days.

Your lower lip juts out as his hand brushes just briefly past your cheek to clear your face, and the wind ruffles the stapled stack of paper. “Daddy told me I should move out of your apartment.” There’s a guardedness that flicks over your face for a second, before you pull out of his reach to start gathering your hair up into a high bun and nod, “there’s two more on my list, you can go home if you don’t want to stay, nii nii.”

Rin’s blue eyes narrow, and he grabs your wrist to pull you back before you can walk away from this. “Hey, forget about what dad says. You don’t have to move out.” The mere idea of having you slip through his fingers presses on his chest, rattling his ribs a little with each breath. It gnaws and claws at the back of his brain hard enough to make him a little dizzy and— and he knows you don’t want this. You can’t possibly think that being alone would somehow be better than being with him. “I never asked you to move out.”

“Niichan,” your voice is small when you dare turn more his way, revealing the wobbly lip as you try to pull your arm out of his reach. He can’t be wrong about that.

“I’m not- I’m not asking, okay? Listen, we’re going home-”

You shake, shoulders and head both. “Why are you making this so difficult? I know I’ve already overstayed my welcome, and you’re too nice to tell me ‘no’. That’s what this is.” No. He isn’t wrong. He knows you- and you couldn’t fake the kindness you give him when he fails the most basic family rules. If anyone imposes… it’s him. With every kiss along your shoulders in the bathroom, or when you let him pull you onto his lap to wind down whenever he damn pleases. His selfishness is the thing that overstayed— for long enough that he can’t even imagine his life without you.

His thoughts might not come out as well in words, but even you must know this much. You aren’t this self deprecating. Before he can find it in himself to care that you two are technically out in the open, he grabs your cheeks on both sides, and lowers himself to press his forehead to yours. He loves you. He loves you so much he could die. He hears, more than sees, how you fumble with the papers in your hands as he keeps you so close to him— opening up that shield for once. There is no world in which he allows it to end with you even further away.

“I want you to stay.” The whisper clearly deals more damage than he intends, because your eyes go glossy as soon as he says it. “Don’t make me beg you.” He pulls back from you just enough to take a breath, but his thumbs stay on your soft skin. You suck your bottom lip in between your teeth, before pulling up your nose and leaning the weight of your head into his one palm. It’s soft, and too gentle -makes him scared to snap you in two with a single move- he thinks it wouldn’t be past him. Sae delivered a serious blow, he knows that. If he wasn’t so green with envy, he’d be able to relate.

After a few more seconds, you faithfully reach to press your mouth to his like you’ve been conditioned to do. And hesitate, staring at the path under your feet. “Okay.” You wrap your arms around his waist— and only leave him aching for more.

Always more, barely getting his gluttonous fill started. Still, it makes his skin tingle with heat, buzzing along his lips. Your fingers lace themselves in his, and he’s only very vaguely aware of the old couple passing you two by with a disgruntled sigh. It makes him pull you protectively close. And a soft, almost fearful chuckle falls past his lips. “You aren’t going anywhere without me, okay?”

Rin doesn’t mind having a temper when it doesn’t play him parts. It is what made him the man he is today. When you’re not involved, he even likes it. But though he tries his very best to control himself, his jealousy inevitably ends up catching up to him. Patiently built up through the years— it barely makes it a whole week after Sae leaves before it bloats inside him and starts to rupture. Leaving a sour, sour taste deep in the crevices of his skull.

The apartment is all you when he walks in. It strikes him as you face him with big eyes, that warm at his presence. You’re wearing an oversized shirt that just about covers your ass, and are turning the food around in the pan as your face lights up; and any sane brother would act accordingly, but his brain insists. This is the sight he wants to be greeted with for the rest of his life. Having the one person who can harm you closest, or something. He always was an opportunist, but he thought Sae the selfish one.

It’s almost pitiful that you play your role so graciously. The tongs rattle against the cutting board when you perk up to kiss him, and for a second longer than usual, he keeps you. Ever since Sae, his guilt hasn’t been enough to keep the longing down. It’s karmic punishment, probably. Always stuck treading in the redhead’s footprints. He keeps his mouth against yours until you start getting hot in the face, and start fidgeting with his fingers.

Not that Rin cares. He simply wraps himself around your back and links his arms under your breasts, and knows you won’t protest. The colors of Sae’s barrage on your throat have yet to fade, deep purples and blues that tint yellow at the edges— and asks him to resist the urge to make his own. He truly, truly doesn’t mean to be this way. You’d probably have a breakdown, and he has yet to even touch that can of worms. In your presence, he almost forgets. If he wasn’t so often fucking reminded, maybe he’d be able to rid himself of the shackles he knows are clinking at his ankles.

The brief brush of his lips along your jaw makes you shiver, then you look back at him over your shoulder. “That tickles, nii nii. Stop it.”

“I’m just looking.” The cockettish curl that your lips take on when he raises a single brow is devilishly distracting, hips suddenly pressing much too close to yours— so he averts his eyes, but can’t make himself pull away from you. Instead he talks, trying not to nuzzle into your cheek. When you try to slip out, his hands chase, and trail fingertips along your skin just below the shirt. A shirt he recognizes as Sae’s when trying to hide away in your smell, only to be painfully reminded. After a long breath, he brushes a finger along your throat, resting his chin. “What’s all this?”

He’s sure you’re not naïve enough to miss the question. But you only raise your shoulders the slightest bit, and jut out your lip. “Hmm… I- don’t know.” It’s hardly a lie, convincing exactly no one. You don’t miss a beat though, and focus on the food. “How was the meeting?”

Rin can’t help but frown at the blatant dismissal, but tonight, he’s too tired to care. He’s so fucking sick of letting Sae in, even when he’s not even around. So he strokes your thigh harder, in an attempt to feel more of your heat. “Training this year will be in Germany and France.”

“Oh.” You seem to let out a silent sigh of gratitude as he lets you run, before the situation catches up with you. “Oh. For how long?”

“Three months.” The tone of your voice is distinctly soft, and has his eyes on the tiny drop of your mouth corners. It’s a non-issue, though. Even if he could physically stand it -which he’s not so sure he could, supporting his weight against your smaller body- he wouldn’t want to go. You’re coming, whether you like it or not. “What kind of hotel room do you want?” His instinct is to press another kiss to your cheek, trailing his mouth ever so slowly down to your throat and shoulder — and trying his fucking hardest not to let the whisper send his thoughts down the wrong path.

“Nii nii-”

Too late. It’s much too easy to envision you in the plush covers of his bed, moaning out his name like you did… Like he knows you can, dressed in his shirt instead. Your hips are pressed close to his, and you smell so fucking good, you have his eyes fluttering shut as he repositions his hands to your thighs. He only swallows hard, lets out a deep breath against the soft skin where your neck meets your shoulder, and forces himself to pull his mouth away.

There’s a low, rumbling sort of noise in his voice when he speaks next. “What? You’re coming along, right?” As he glances at the side of your face, he’s awfully aware of the jittery way you’re trying to continue dinner, blushy hot ears and cheeks, and lips puffy and glistening from biting them. It’s fucking unfair. His mind instinctively wanders, and heat pools in his cock and balls too quickly before he manages to take a few deep breaths. “I know you don’t wanna stay here all alone.”

“I don’t. If- If you want me to come, I will,” you nod, and also shiver when his hands softly squeeze in response. “You won’t mind sharing a room with me even in a hotel?”

God, he wants to bend you over and grab you by the collar for being so fucking dense. It’s cute though, too innocent to reason with- it stresses him out as much as it heats his entire body. How could he mind, after two years of sleeping in the same bed as you. “We’re used to it, ‘course I don’t.” You move out of his arms to turn off the stove, and smile, but it doesn’t really seem to reach your eyes. As your hands slide along your neck and shoulders, your posture stiffens, swaying softly on your feet— and Rin sucks his tongue. Those fucking blotchy marks come clear into view again, and they nag. They’re a sore sight, a few breaths away from nauseating.

He can’t help but think you wouldn’t ask the same question to the oldest.

To add insult to injury, you nuzzle into the soft edge of the shirt for comfort, in a way so awfully familiar it makes him feel ill. Why, why, why. His heart rate spikes as he stares at the floor instead. “You spent weeks in a hotel with Sae when he went to train.” It comes out a lot more accusatory than he had in mind, though he tries to hide the bitter tone in his voice. “Can’t be that different.”

“It is different.”

“-How is it any different? Because Sae will abuse your silence in a way that I don’t?” It’s so fucked. Rin knows full well that he isn’t innocent in this situation, not even close. But he hates the way you fist your hands into Sae’s shirt, how you cling to it like a lifeline— not even trying to cover the hickeys he seared into your neck the first second Rin wasn’t looking. Hates it so much that arguing rationally goes out the window. He wants you to love him as much as he loves you; because facing himself makes him sick. There’s nothing in the world more painful than knowing what he feels for you. So fully and deeply to his bone marrow, it squeezes his chest so tight the air barely reaches him.

“W- I just-” your eyes desperately dart around the kitchen for anything to say, “I love niichan, and he- he loves-”

“No, I love you, imouto! I’m the one who cares! He came here to use you and leave, and you’re asking me to pretend like I’m fucking stupid, or blind! I’m not here for you to feel better about being Sae nii’s play thing,” he snaps, having your eyes wide at the outburst, wringing his hands together in shame. Shame at needing to beg to want him, to care. Shame at longing for his own fucking blood in ways he shouldn’t. Shame at how fucking lesser than he feels. It builds and builds until his face feels hot, and Sae’s stupid fucking smug grin flashes in front of his eyes. He wants to tear his own hair out at it, but it wouldn’t even solve anything.

He can’t escape it, as long as he doesn’t have you as a guarantee. You, little, sweet you— stand there so disarmed, seeming so much younger than you are— tear-filled eyes and crossed arms. It’s the same look you’d get when Sae would goad you into stupid fights that you’d inevitably lose, or any time Rin would pretend to hate you as a kid. You almost seem to topple over with the force of the words, and Rin falls quiet. Your pitiful look is all that’s left in Pandora's box. “Don’t… don’t cry.”

Your bottom lip wobbles until your shoulders pathetically start to drop, like a kitten picked up by her neck, and you scrunch your face in a way he’s never had to see before— it shatters any composure he has left. “I can’t not…” your voice sinks to a whisper, a sad little whimper. “I don’t know- wh-how. I’m sorry, I don’t get you two. I don’t get it— I just can’t- have you leave me too. Don’t leave, nii nii.”

Silvery tracks run all over your cheeks, your chin, down your neck before you finally dare look at him again, and beg. “Please, I’ll do anything you want, I just- Can’t handle it if you leave- hck- Please, Rin. Anything you want, I just- don’t make me go without you too.”

Your hand hovers halfway between grabbing for him and falling short, as you cry- for him. For him to stay, and ask him to, for maybe the first time, give his feelings a chance. Selfishly, so fucking selfishly, it blossoms inside him with a prideful glow. It dismantles him and rebuilds him from the ground up all at once, has his heart beating out of control against the same rib cage that shouldered his guilt, before he manages to peel his tongue from the bottom of his mouth.

“I’m not going anywhere…” his voice manages, almost cracking along with the tremble in his hands as he places them on your sides, sliding to your waist.

The physical, emotional turmoil instantly ebbing away when you crash yourself into his chest, is almost sickening. It doesn’t matter though, not to him, not when he lifts you up into his embrace and your legs wrap around his waist, letting him rest his face against your throat and allowing you to burrow yourself into his arms. “I’m sorry. Your big brothers love you, I promise. I love you. I’m never leaving.” The way you cling to him gets tighter, as if forcefully anchoring you to his chest— and he takes it as space enough to nudge his face up into your view and brush noses in the process. He should feel more guilty. He knows Sae, and he knows you- and despite what the other man might think, Rin has no illusions of being a saint.

Rin knows that Sae told you whatever string of lies that stuck best, asked you to lay down under him and come undone, and you did so without a second thought. And though he hates that thought, it isn’t born out of the goodness of his heart. He wants you to be his, and only his. The brush of his face along yours makes you shiver, and softly shake your head- but he can’t help it. He can’t do you one better than Sae did. His lips hover yours, lashes fluttering under low lids as the salty taste of your tears gets between you. His hand raises to your neck, letting you arms and legs support yourself against him as he pulls you in, and whispers. “Kiss me back.”

The small, rounded window reflects back his own face against the dark sky, tipping the dark liquid around the glass in disinterest. First class feels awfully plain now, he almost laughs, sliding the glass along the bar. A pretty, blonde flight attendant passes by, swinging her hips as she tops up the other man’s glass with a smile and deposits another bottle by their sides. Sae doesn’t bother to look up as he fiddles with the fine chain in his pocket.

“Come on, prodigy boy… we’ve got two more hours to kill.” Michael’s small smirk grows when he tosses another few ice cubes into his glass, and tops himself up even further. “Don’t tell me you’re already tuckered out.” The chain slips between his fingers a little as he pulls it out— and lets out a long, pinched breath. Long lashes brush his cheeks as his eyes narrow, and the gold-plated necklace lands in his palm. He pops the small square open.

Even printed so small, your taste is mirrored back onto his tongue, and sets the hairs on his neck on end.

Michael barely gives him a momentary glance, before taking a sip, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t know you were religious.”

“I’m not.” His thumb brushes ever so briefly over the face in the picture, before he snaps it closed again. And the white blond raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask, for once. Maybe he knows the answer won’t satisfy any of his curiosity. Doesn’t matter to Sae. The whites and oranges of the airplane make light spots in the layer of fog outside— and he raises the glass to his lips after all. He wants to groan and yell until he drowns out the noise. Maybe punch something too.

His life has been a string of unfortunate sacrifices… so why. Why is this one any different? The slightly sweet tone under the bourbon hits the back of his throat, and he rests his forehead on the cool bar in hopes of getting a clearer head. Instead of clearing anything, his thoughts start crawling to the forefront again. He thinks of the flow of your hair between his fingers, and the way you say his name. He doesn’t miss home. Doesn’t miss Japan. He just misses the warmth in his chest when he’s able to return to you. God, he hates his pitiful, sentimental crap.

He wonders if Rin’s finally made a move.

Your mouth is completely occupied as Rin crawls over you and slides a leg aside to fit his hips against yours— your hands sliding into his hair when you roll back your head with a soft squeak to catch your breath. “Rin, Rin- I don’t think we should- do this.”

Your clothes are discarded by his feet and your pliable body laid out before him as your legs brush his. He shivers as your breath brushes over his cheek, and makes him want to clench his eyes shut to escape it- but he can’t. Never could before, and it’s no different now. He’s entranced by the rise and fall of your chest even under your hands that keep the slightest sliver of modesty. Not like he hasn’t seen all of you before, right?

He allows for a few breaths before he needs to be back to your mouth, opening your lips with his and connecting tongues— and almost knocks teeth with yours in his excitement to get closer. Your tongue on his tastes so good, melting every warm, desperate feeling and slipping it down his throat. Now your palms go to grasp his waist instead, brushing over the exposed skin to squeeze. “Rin.” He’s barely clear headed enough to pull back to cast a glance at you, and he grunts out your name. His face moves to your tits instead, grabbing and licking at every inch of skin that he can, and you whimper. “St-Listen to me. I think- we can’t.”

He can’t listen. His mouth slots over your nipple to bite at it, and you go to grab a handful of his hair with desperate, flexing and unflexing hands. Your chest raises into his touch and the licking and sucking, and it sets everything in his head up in flames. You’re no longer the little sister he wanted to protect. Not when you’re withering in his lap and grinding yourself against him like a slut, begging with fluttering lashes for his cock to drive home. Fuck. “Rin nii~” you whine, your lips are puffy and glistening. “Hmph, listen~” Fuck fuck fuck, he wants to have you crying out his name until it’s carved into his brain.

“What?” he finally manages to breathe back, skipping his hand along your naked thigh. His heart is about to beat out of his chest with you under him, rocking the couch when he raises himself above you. But can you blame him? He’s never been so fucking hard in his life, unable to think of anything but the softness of your body under him, and the taste of you. He slides up to tilt you back more and lets his eyes fall to your naked body again. Maybe he should be used to it by now. Used to you. But everything about you makes his body feel like a balloon that’s about to pop— and he sucks his tongue, fighting the urge to drool over all of you. “What?” he repeats again, eyebrows raising.

Rin realizes a split second before you speak that he doesn’t want to know, sees it in the pitiful look of your half-lidded eyes. But you’re too honest for your own good. “I never told you- that niichan touched me. I’m sorry. I said that we couldn’t- but- but niichan didn’t listen to me. And now he doesn’t like me anymore.” Too fucking honest for your own good. His stupid, pretty little sister splayed out in his fucking lap. How naïve are you? Instead of any solid thoughts crossing his mind, his mouth simply falls open a sliver, and he stares. If he didn’t already believe you… he would probably laugh. “I know I did a bad thing. I’m sorry.” Your lip wobbles, and you pull his hand to your chest to cling onto him. His temperature reaches a boiling point, flushing his brain with red.

“It is bad.” He nudges your face up to his with a soft sigh, and then presses several kisses along your lips. “If you’re gonna do this with anyone, shouldn’t it be me?” He could say that he will regret the way you look up at him with a thousand stars in your eyes. But that would be a lie. He’s out of guilt. His spine tingles with longing, face hot, his cock and balls thumping. It’s impossible to think of anything else. He kisses you again, letting your moans and whimpers drown out anything else, and moves to sit onto the couch. Then he pulls back only to pat his lap, and raises a brow at you as you search his face with your eyes. “Sit here, on your big brother’s lap. Hurry.”

You only hesitate for a few seconds, before he asks a little more sternly, and has you moving. “Do you have any clue how badly I’ve wanted you? Every time I look at you, you look so fucking good. So soft and sexy.”

“Don’t say that stuff,” you squeak, but you don’t fight him.

“I always want you,” Rin simply continues, as you lay your legs on his strong thighs with a pout, “you get my cock so fucking hard, see?” You do see, licking your lips as you take a deep breath and your hips roll against him instinctively. Your hands thread together behind his head, and Rin’s gotta focus so fucking hard not to start fucking the plush of your thighs. “Open your mouth.” He grunts when sliding his long fingers over your tongue, collecting enough spit to coat his fingers.

While his cock bops impatiently against your stomach, he’s transfixed on the embarrassed look in your eyes, and your whimpers as he pulls back. Truly, he’d like to spend hours exploring. And another couple hours giving you back the pure torture you put him through for the last two years. But he can’t, not when his cock is brushing its flushed head all along the belly and smearing pre-cum all over you. “Normally I’d ask you to put your mouth on it,” he grunts, free hand sliding along your cheek and taking a handful of hair, “but you’d have to keep a mouth full of cum.”

“Niichan, don’t-” you whine again, humming when the tug on your hair lingers between painful and pleasurable, “don’t say that~”

He can’t help but grin, licking a long stripe up your chest to your neck, and placing sloppy kisses on the skin. “You don’t like knowing that your big brothers want to fuck you? That you’ve got me wrapped around your little finger?” You mewl when he leaves a bite on your soft skin, before moving his hands to your ass and sliding one down between your legs. Your pussy’s already dripping despite your protest, has him slipping two fingertips inside and curling his hand up into you. He can’t fucking resist. It eats him up from the inside, mouth corners again twitching up. “I think you do like it. I think your pussy’s all-” His fingers fuck up into the soft walls of you, “-fucking-” again and again, leaving you panting, “-mine.” He probably shouldn’t find so much glee in it.

“Mhph,” your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your bottom lip is squeezed between your teeth, before you lean down to kiss him. Soft, almost sweet kisses, if not for the way your body grinds back into his palm and you whine softly like an animal in heat. It’s so fucking cute. It has his cock pulsing as he takes a breath, and looks at the sloppy way you leave his hand.

“Move up,” he quickly mumbles, kissing you back once before your thighs rise and he wipes his fingers on your slicked up mound, then slotting them into his mouth. He can’t even resist moaning out a rumbly, gravelly call of your name before he grabs two hands of your ass and helps you up. “Fuck, you’re so-” everything. If anyone had ever told him he’d be this weak over another person, he would’ve laughed. “Gonna fill you up, finally, f-finally gonna feel your little cunt squeeze around me.” His forehead rests on your chest for a second, placing a few lazy kisses on your tits, before he looks up. And though you look awfully flushed, embarrassed and heated- with teary eyes and puffy, bitten lips- you still run a hand through his hair and along his neck.

Then he lines up and moves you down onto him, and the first touch is all he needs to start feeling cotton fill up his brain. Your pussy takes him so well, sliding inch by excruciating inch onto his cock, and whimpering every second of it— you look spent well before he slides you down the last bit and your walls clench around him hard enough to knock the air out of him. He never thought you that small, but the way you struggle to take him, shaking on your legs and letting out every mewled thought, is so fucking hot. He loves you. Rin’s a sister fucker, and he’s never felt so fucking good in his life.

“Oh, fuck. You’re so tight- t-tiny little pussy… Holy-fuck, ugh—” You’re so warm, and soft, and he can’t help himself. He’s pushing you over onto your back before he can think of it, and places both hands besides you. Wide shoulders cover your view until you’re forced to hang on as he pulls back and fucks back in hard.

The slaps that fill the house as he pumps his thick, heavy cock into you are a melodic dream, making you whine and moan and dig your fingers and nails into his back. “Rin niichan, ah, ah, ahhh- I love you- I love you— ah, l-love you~” He fucks into you without abandon, letting his cock fuck right into the soft, spongey part of your walls and filling you right up. The rhythm he sets is hard and deep, and shakes the couch around enough to hear it groan. But he’s lost in the way your body curls, and you lift your chest to his, head thrown back— and almost choke on your teary whimpers. “F-feels- so gud- ah, I- I’m sorry. Mom, dad, I’m sorry. I love my— big brother!”

It’s like a beast that his balls clap against your ass and his one hand finds purchase between you two to toy with your nipples as he pants. His balls ache, with every wet gush of slick that collects between your two bodies it drives him further into you, fucking the head of his cock deeper and more precicely into you. He can see his cock slide in and out through your belly. It’s vile- in a way that makes everything feel blank, pleasurable and tingling down his spine. “Can you rub your clit for me,” he breathes, and kisses you, sucking on your tongue when you oblige with shaky hands. “Uhuh, such a good little sister. The best- b-best fucking hole, ugh-fuck.”

“Nii nii, I’m close.”

He’s burning through you, losing himself in the pleasure of filling you up all the way as your fingers flit over your puffy clit like he knows you like. He could do it for you if he wasn’t so desperately trying to keep himself from blowing his load, feeling the muscles in his legs, back and shoulders flex as he chases that peak. “Gonna cum? You gonna cum?” Your rapid nodding, paired with the grinding of your hips and your back curling off the couch is enough to have him kissing your pouty lips again, and keeping that same exact punishing rhythm even as your pussy squeezes him tight enough to keep him in you— grunting. You’d be able to kill him here and he’d go happy. “Oh, fuck— so good, so fucking good-”

He can feel you fall over the edge before he sees it, and despite the best of efforts, cums together with you as you cling so hard to his shoulders you’ll leave marks. You cum on his cock as hot ropes of white fill up your clenching pussy, dripping a mess out of your shared orgasms as he shudders on top of you and only stills completely when your moaning goes into a pitched little whine, and then a deep breath of his name. “Rin nii~” you pout, rubbing your palms along his sides a few times. It looks like you want to say something, but can’t find the words, and it warms him from the inside out. But he pulls back a little, cock still awfully hard inside you, and his hand cups your cheek.

“Can you go again? I wanna go again.” Then his lips land on yours, pressing loving kisses all over your face, cheeks, your nose, and you let out a little giggle. “And again, and again, and again.” For the first time in a while, Rin finds himself completely, utterly happy. And not a single thought is out of place.

Sae’s staring up at the ceiling of his fancy apartment as he starfishes the bed, and the slow rings have him rolling onto his side. The phone beeps, before going into voicemail again. And he frowns. Your name blinks back at him as he pulls back, and the soft tone of your message rings through the device.

“Hey, I- you don’t normally miss calls… Must be pretty busy over there, huh? This is the third voicemail I’m leaving within two days.” He rights himself to stare out the window of his pristine Barcelona apartment, and runs a hand through his bangs with a click of his tongue. “I uh- I shouldn’t have left without a word. I was- well, I don’t know. I miss- you, I guess.” His air gets a little stuck in his throat, and needs a cough to get going. “Anyways, call me back when you hear this. Niichan’s gonna be playing in the World cup. Tell Rin to get his ass into the lineup already.”

And then, after a long breath, “tell him he kinda owes me.”

FIN

Thank you so much for reading my series to the end, i have so much love for these three and i will miss it and them :'>>

#blue lock smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock rin #itoshi rin x reader #blue lock sae #itoshi sae x reader #bllk smut #tw.incest #tw.jealousy #🥧rin.chan #💫ch.rin #🥧sae.chan #💫ch.sae #🍯honey.pot

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bitethedevil · 17 days

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Living with The Devil You Know (Raphael x Tav): Chapter 4

Chapter: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight

Read this fic on AO3 (Link)

Fic Summary: Tav broke their agreement by handing the Crown of Karsus to Mystra instead of Raphael. Not only that, but she also robbed his house and killed his incubus. Raphael is patient and he is determined to get his revenge.

…Tav isn't too bothered. She will figure something out eventually. Until then she just has to find a way to live peacefully with a devil.

Chapter Summary: Raphael has a nightmare after a meeting with his father, causing him to have a little accident with Tav. Tav shares how her own relationship with her father made her hide her past from the world.

(AN: Tav didn't use Speak with the Dead on Haarlep, so she doesn't know who Raph's daddy is. Lots of daddy issues in this one)

TW: Blood, Violence, Mentions of Parental Abuse, Mentions of Child Abuse

When she woke up, Raphael had already left the house. Korrilla was watching her from the chair she usually sat in when she was keeping an eye on her in the early mornings after Raphael had left, or in the evenings when Tav went to bed before him.

“Good morning, Tav,” Korrilla said with a smile.

Tav rubbed her eyes. Everything hurt after Raphael had his fun with her the whole night.

“Morning,” Tav mumbled and sat up to get out of the bed. She inhaled sharply from the pain in her lower body.

Korrilla wore an amused expression as she watched her stumble out of bed. Tav could barely walk properly. She narrowed her eyes at Korrilla’s knowing smile.

“Not a word, Korrilla…please,” Tav warned and practically limped to the restoration pool.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Korrilla answered with a chuckle as she followed her.

Tav breathed a sigh of relief as she slid into the pool. The water soothed her aching body immediately. While she was bathing, she noticed that Korrilla was looking at her with an odd expression on her face. It was as if she was thinking hard about something.

“See something you like?” Tav teased from the pool.

“I know better than to dare touch the boss’s new plaything,” she retorted with a smile before returning to her contemplating stare. “I should probably warn you about something…”

“About…?” Tav asked.

Korrilla hesitated for a moment.

“Raphael is meeting with Mephistopheles today. They are…Well, let’s just say that they are not on the best of terms. You’d be wise to avoid him when he gets home. You should not talk to him or get in his way. He can be in quite the mood after those kinds of meetings.”

“Alright…” Tav said.

“But you didn’t hear that from me, understand? Don’t make me regret warning you,” Korrilla said.

“Right, sure,” Tav said and nodded.

Not only did Raphael have a connection to the second most powerful devil in the Hells for some reason, but he also hated him…? Why did he even have to meet with him? He lives in Avernus, not Cania…Tav was starting to think that devil politics were even more complex than what she had read about them during her time as a librarian, and even those texts had made it seem insanely overcomplicated…

‘Quite the mood’ had to have been the understatement of the century when it came to describe Raphael’s mood when he returned.

Tav and Korrilla had been in the large main area of the house when he got home. The servants and debtors scattered immediately upon his arrival. Tav got a quick glimpse of him before Korrilla herded her into another room. There was fire in his eyes.

Korrilla and her sought refuge on one of the many balconies of the house. Tav’s eyes widened as she heard the sounds of whatever poor servant or debtor that had gotten in his way from inside the house. She heard the loud snapping of bones followed by a scream that made her blood run cold.

Korrilla was resting her elbows on the small table between them and gave Tav a weak smile as if this was the most ordinary thing in the world for her.

“He’ll calm down in an hour or two…” Korrilla said in a low voice. “He probably wouldn’t have touched you, as you are still important to his plans, but…you never know…”

Tav nodded.

It was the same nightmare that had haunted him for so many years. He was always younger in that dream, having barely grown into his immortality. He was standing in his father’s freezing halls. Mephistopheles himself was looking down at him from his frozen throne. The words that his father had said to him after he had chosen to leave Cania echoed through the throne room:

‘You can climb that ladder as much as you want, boy. You can play with mortals and try to bargain your way to as many souls as you please but remember that I will always be at the top of that ladder, looking down on you. Climb, little half-breed, and know that the higher you get, the more satisfying it will be for your dear father to see you fall…”

Raphael blinked and he was hanging above the maw of his father. He was fighting to get out of his grasp, but to no avail. He was digging his claws into him and fought with all he had, knowing that nothing would change his fate. The last thing he would ever feel would be his father’s teeth sinking into him and then darkness…

Though something was different this time. He heard someone scream his name before the darkness swallowed him whole…

Tav had been sleeping. Raphael’s arms were around her as usual, but she had heard a sound from him that stirred her from her sleep. He was mumbling something. His body was slightly twitching. Was he…dreaming?

His tail began thrashing, making thumping noises on the mattress. He made a sound that sounded close to a whimper. His grip around her suddenly tightened, making it hard for her to breathe.

“Raphael…” she wheezed and squeezed his arm to wake him up.

His claws dug deep into the skin of her stomach, and she dug her nails into his arms, trying to pry his hands off her.

“Raphael!” she wheezed again and started hitting his arms to get him off.

She screamed when the claws that were dug into her stomach started dragging in opposite directions, ripping up the skin. She heard him make a sharp inhale before everything went black.

She made a whining sound as she woke up. She heard someone sigh in what sounded like relief. She immediately felt that she was submerged in water and started flailing her limbs around.

“Easy, easy, easy,” Raphael said, and his arms tightened around her.

She was confused and breathing hard. Raphael was holding her in his arms in the restoration pool. She looked up at him. He was wearing an expression she had not seen on him before. His brow was furrowed, his eyes intense, and his mouth was turned downward. If she had not known him better, she would have said he looked slightly apologetic.

“You know,” Tav said weakly with a smile, her voice hoarse. “I think I’m starting to see the appeal of sleeping in a cell in the dungeons. Seems safer…”

Raphael’s look of slight worry morphed into his signature sneer at her little joke.

“You are insufferable,” he said.

“Guess you shouldn’t have saved me then,” Tav mumbled. “What the fuck happened, Raphael?”

His face returned into that odd expression again.

“A nightmare. My body must have responded to it in a…shall we say, less than ideal way…” he admitted.

Tav would have laughed if she had the energy to do so. ‘Less than ideal’ was certainly one way to put it, she thought. It was probably the closest she would ever get him to say ‘sorry’.

Raphael carried her out of the pool and laid her down on one of the bed-looking things at the side of the pool. Raphael left her there to go and put on a robe. He left the boudoir for a moment and came back with a servant who was carrying clean sheets.

He sat down at the foot of the bed and leaned up against the frame of it while he watched her. She rested her eyes for a moment.

“Ah-ah,” Raphael said sharply. “Keep your eyes open. You have lost a lot of blood.”

She sighed softly and opened her eyes. She was so tired and cold. The pool had healed her wounds, and her blood would replenish a lot faster than it would have done without it, but depending on how much blood she had lost, it could take a little while.

“How do you feel?” Raphael asked.

“I’ll be fine. It’s not my first time dying,” Tav said. Withers had resurrected her twice before during her adventure. It was never a particularly fun experience. “You can stop fussing.”

“I am not fussing,” Raphael said with a sneer. “Do not mistake this for some merciful act. I am not done with you, and I will not allow you to die just yet.”

She huffed at him. She got quiet for a moment. She was blinking slowly and yawning. She was so tired.

“Stay awake,” Raphael ordered again. “Keep speaking to me so I know that you will not fall asleep.”

“I was just blinking,” she mumbled then tried to think of anything to talk about. “It must have been quite the nightmare you had.”

“Mm,” he affirmed.

“Do you want to elaborate or…?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“No,” he said.

“You won’t even tell me what it was about? Your plan is to kill me eventually, so who am I going to tell?”

He looked at her for a moment, seemingly considering it.

“It was a nightmare about my father killing me,” he answered coldly. The lack of emotion in his voice and expression could not hide the glimmer of hate she saw in his eyes for a brief moment.

“Oh…”

Tav’s eyes softened slightly. That hit a bit too close to home for her comfort. She herself had been ridden with similar nightmares once. Back before she had to carefully remove every trace of her past…

Tav was unsure what to say. Any pitying or sympathetic remarks would most likely just piss him off. Her mind went completely blank due to her state of blood loss. She somehow settled on the most unhinged comment that could possibly have come out of her mouth:

“I can warmly recommend patricide…”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Pardon?” Raphael said and tried to suppress his amusement at the odd comment.

“I found it quite therapeutic to kill mine,” she said with a shrug. “It worked on my nightmares like a charm.”

“I suspect that Mephistopheles would be slightly more difficult to kill than your mortal father, mouse,” he said with a smile. “Though I appreciate your sage advice.”

Oh. She put two and two together. Mephistopheles is his father. It suddenly made more sense why that meeting earlier in the day had pissed him off so much.

“I do see how that slightly complicates things…” she said.

“Indeed…” Raphael said. “Would I be wrong in assuming that you killing your father has something to do with the difficulty I had with tracing your past?”

“…No,” Tav said.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“I’d rather not…” she answered. “I’ve used too much time on hiding the past to dig it up again.”

“Come now,” he said and squeezed her leg. “Your secret is safe with me, and I am oh so curious.”

She held her breath and then sighed. Raphael could probably find a way to use it against her somehow. Then again, the bastard was long dead, so what could it really hurt to talk about it?

“Should I bore you with the backstory as well?” she asked.

“Please,” Raphael said. “With the current pallor of your skin, it looks as if we still have plenty of time before we can retire.”

She sighed and nodded.

“My father was the only thing I’ve ever truly feared. The asshole hated me ever since I was born. For no particular reason, really. I just think he was born an evil bastard. He loved beating my mother almost as much as he loved beating me. It was every single day,” Tav’s voice was filled with contempt as she explained. “My face and parts of my upper body are permanently glamoured to hide some of what he did to me.”

“You are permanently scarred because of him?” Raphael asked with curiosity.

Tav nodded.

“It happened one day where he got furious with me. I don’t remember the reason he gave me for his tantrum on that particular day…” Tav said and took a deep breath before explaining further. “He held my face into the fireplace…I was ten years old. I still remember the smell of my own flesh burning. I was crying about the pain for days. I vividly when the bandages were taken off and he laughed at my now scarred face and commented that ‘now my face matched that pretty red hair I got from him’.”

Tav moved her hand to her face and traced a line down her face from her forehead to the side of her head and then to her chin.

“This whole part of my face is still scarred underneath the glamour because of that man,” she explained. “Anyway, as you already know, I moved to Baldur’s Gate to become an apprentice. My parents had let me go on the condition that I would visit them at least once each month. This one time, my teacher needed me to stay at the Gate for a couple more days, so I got home later than promised. That, of course, earned me a particularly rough beating from my dear father. I was an adult at this point but that did not stop him from trying to beat me into a pulp…Something snapped in me that day…”

A smile grew on Raphael’s face.

“And I suppose your old man got what was coming to him?” Raphael said.

“I used some of the few basic spells I had learned from my teacher. A combination of a grease spell and a firebolt, and the only man I have ever feared met his end. I’ll never forget the look of betrayal on his face as he started burning,” Tav said with a weak smile. “The whole house burned down with him in it.”

Raphael looked at her for a moment, still smiling.

“Do you ever regret what you did?” he asked.

“I only regret that I didn’t give him a slower death after all he had done,” she said genuinely.

“Mm,” Raphael hummed. “What happened to your mother?”

Tav was quiet for a moment too long. Her smile disappeared and her face hardened slightly.

“She didn’t want to leave his side, so she burned with him,” she said coldly. “It was her own foolish decisions that led her to her death.”

“Is that something you regret?” Raphael asked.

“No,” Tav said.

Raphael narrowed his eyes at her.

“You don’t live for as long as I have without having a keen sense for when someone is lying to you, my dear. Do you want to try again?” Raphael said.

“I am not lying,” Tav said stubbornly. “She didn’t want to leave him no matter how hard I tried to drag her out of the house. When someone is stupid enough to love someone so cruel and so evil, then they deserve to live, and die, with that choice. My mother did.”

Raphael was still studying her face with that smug expression. It was clear that he did not believe her, but he decided not to press the issue further.

“May I ask why you still hide your scars?” Raphael asked. “You won after all. The man who gave them to you is dead, so should you not wear them with pride?”

Tav shrugged.

“They look ugly, and they make people ask too many questions,” she said with a sigh. “And…I don’t want to be defined by what my father has done to me.”

Something indescribable flashed over Raphael’s feature at her last comment. It was gone in a second. Had it been on any other face than his, she would have said it looked like sympathy.

“Would it be awfully ill-mannered of me to ask if I could see those scars of yours?” Raphael asked.

“Why?” she asked.

“I’m simply curious,” he said. “There are no questions for me to ask since you have already told me your story. Your concern for your appearance is another matter, although I can assure you that it takes more than a few burn scars to rattle me.”

“I haven’t shown them to anyone in years,” Tav said.

“So why not now?” Raphael countered. “You know your fate is to stay in this house until I take what is mine. Why not go out as you are and not as who you pretend to be?”

Tav’s eyes narrowed at him.

“And who do I ‘pretend’ to be, Raphael?” she asked.

“Someone who is untouchable,” he said with a smirk. “Someone without scars, in both the literal and metaphorical sense.”

She huffed in annoyance, but then she got an idea.

“Fine…I’ll show you,” she said with a smile. “If you do something for me first.”

“Bargaining now, are we?” Raphael said and chuckled. “Usually, it’s me who makes the offers around here, mouse…What do you want?”

“An apology,” she said. “From the heart or…whatever you devils have. I want it to sound genuine.”

Raphael’s smug smile faltered.

“A what?” he asked.

“You heard me just fine,” Tav said. “I want an apology from you for almost killing me in my sleep.”

He took a deep breath and just looked at her for a moment. Then he growled in slight frustration.

“Fine. I apologize for losing control over my actions while I was asleep,” he said as if it physically hurt him to say so. “I am…sorry.”

“That could have been more genuine but…I’ll take it,” Tav said.

She took a deep breath to muster up the courage to remove the glamour from her face. Why did she even care? It was just Raphael…Still a part of her was afraid of showing that kind of vulnerability. Deep down she was scared that he might laugh or be disgusted with her.

She said the incantation and with a flick of her hand the glamour was gone. Her hand went to her face, and she felt her scars there for the first time in years. She did not look at his face because she was too worried of the reaction she might find there.

Raphael moved from the foot of the bed to her side, getting closer in order to get a better look. His clawed hand gently removed hers that were covering a part of her face. He then held her chin and turned her head slightly so he could see the scars better. Her eyes flicked to his face for a brief moment. He was simply looking and there did not seem to be any judgment in his eyes.

He turned her head, so she was looking at him straight on.

“Hm,” he hummed with a serious expression. “I think you should keep the glamour off. It suits you if I may be so bold to say so.”

“Alright, no need to lie about it,” Tav huffed and brushed his comment away. “I know how it looks.”

“I never lie, mouse,” he said, still holding her chin. “Except, of course, when I am forced to apologize about things I had no control over.”

He smirked and chucked her under the chin before getting up from the bed.

“We should try and get some sleep,” he said and held his hands out to her for her to take them. “Get up slowly.”

She did and her vision darkened slightly as she got to her feet. She swayed a bit, making Raphael hold an arm around her in case she should fall.

He got her into his bed and changed into his human form. Tav heard the snap and ‘poof’ of him transforming and looked at him over her shoulder.

“I am not eager to be woken up by you bleeding all over my expensive sheets again, so we will try this instead,” he said with a sigh and got into bed himself.

Raphael put his arms around her like he always did, but it felt so different. It felt so weirdly normal now that he was not in his devil form. As if they could have been a normal couple sleeping together and not a devil restraining his prisoner. Tav was not sure how to feel about it.

What became clear to her during the night, was that Raphael was not used to sleeping in his human form. He seemed to be sleeping a lot heavier than he usually would and he was also moving around a lot more, sometimes completely forgetting that he was supposed to hold Tav. He even snored, which she found oddly endearing. It did make sense that it would be a lot more freeing to sleep without the horns, wings, and tail always getting in the way.

In the morning, she even woke up before him for once. She found herself looking at him while he was sleeping. His hair was slightly tousled, and his expression looked so peaceful as he softly snored into his pillow.

She realized to her horror that this evil bastard was starting to grow on her…

#raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #bg3 raphael #raphael x tav #bg3

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 1 year

Note

Good morning/afternoon/night

Could you make Sanemi x male reader? With reader is chosen by kagaya to go with Sanemi through missions and reader is calm, logic and aways stop Sanemi from getting in trouble

Yandere Sanemi X Male Reader

You most definitely beat him up after his actions with Tanjiro

And since you work so well your names typically are never said without the other

Where he’s abrasive and offputting

Your approachable and gentle

“You’re family’s probably dead. Might as well get your grieving over now.”

“W-what?!”

“I apologize for my partner. What we mean to say is that their fate is uncertain but we will get to the bottom of this.”

“Ohh well thank you so much!”

“Happy to help.”

Your strong as him

And so much sweeter

You’re just really really good at this

So good you do often get pulled away from Sanemi

Who politely throws the biggest tantrum to Kagaya-sama when you get the assignment

“Master I strongly request that he stay by my side. After our assignment.”

“Sanemi...I realize why you want him to stay with you but you must give him space…he’s requested it.”

The stakeout for this mission was uncharacteristically silent. Typically he’d be insulting the demon or even the people you placated before lightly interrogating about the demon but he was silent. As were you, already aware of the conversation he no doubt had with Kagaya-sama.

“So…I’m too much for ya is that it?”

You let out a sigh as you could already hear the angry grumble in his seemingly calm question. You didn’t respond instead watching as the demon began to make its move, you began to move feeling the angry puffs of Sanemi’s hollering behind you.

“What? You not gonna talk to me now!? Is this too close for you, huh?!”

Practically yelling in your ear as you tried to focus on the demon’s movement, silently debating if they were aware of your presence. You concluded that they were and they were preparing to attack a nearby home to divide your attention. You took a step to descend from the roof of the building only to be stopped by the tense body of Sanemi.

“Sanemi. Move. Those people need help.”

“I’ll move when you tell me, why?!”

You sucked your teeth sidestepping the Wind Hashira.

“I don’t have time for this!”

He pulled at your bicep wrestling you face first into the ground; knee in your back as you watch the demon ravage the people inside. You struggled against him, failing to remove him you yelled.

“LET ME GO SANEMI!”

“I WON’T! NOT UNTIL YOU TELL ME ‘WHYY?!’ WAS IT TOMIOKA? OBANAI?”

You let your cheek rest against the wood of the roof.

“It's really…because of you.”

You growled at his silence as you registered the demon moving to attack you both.

“Its because of you that I’d rather be in solitude than clean up the messes you make with your mean attitude. And your mean face! And your horrible attitude about everyone that talks to me…”

Sanemi let his mouth hang open.

“Yeah, I know about the threatening. I know about the mystery asphyxiations. Kagayama-sama may not be willing to disown the Wind Hashira in fear of what you will become but I will. And at this moment I wish to part from you forever, alright!?”

At your call, Sanemi beheaded the demon without looking. Letting you up from his hold on your back to swipe at the demon’s last attempts to stab at the both of you. Letting the demon’s screams hang in the air you let silence envelope you both once more. That is until Sanemi broke it.

“Ha! Even when you're saving my life, you reject me!”

“What did you expect? I’ve been doing that since selection.”

He let the memory replay as he let the mirror of your past self align with your current self. Grimacing at the thought he debated cutting your Achilles heel. Stopped by the unsheathed blade hanging low as if already aware of his intentions.

“Don’t think about following me. I’ll kill you if you do.”

“Right. Right. And you better come back unharmed or I won’t let this go.”

“Whatever.”

Sanemi whipped around letting his hand clutch at your face, squishing you into silence as he gave his unsettling smile.

“You. Will. Come. Back. Unharmed. Yes?”

You reluctantly nodded being released as you watched your crow's circle overhead.

‘It really couldn’t have been longer.’

#yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kny x reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yanderexrea #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yandere #yanderes #yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #yandere sanemi #yandere hashira #yandere wind hashira

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rosestarlightkatarina · 8 months

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The night.

Donna Beneviento x reader

This one is all about fluff and sleepy atmosphere

I hope you enjoy🖤🌙

No doubt today is a way too harsh on you. Everything is out of hand and it makes you feel even more exhausted. But the most frustrating thing is that you don’t have any chances to meet the doll maker, let alone a little talk to her. She acts more like a pretty ghost in a pretty old house and you try to copy this behavior. Expect Angie. The only one thing you have to do for being the reason of her laugh or anger is breathing. Even sleeping isn’t always a good cause for her to stop. You must be more creative than that. But you two seem to get along recently. It’s actually a miracle how you are still alive. Consider yourself lucky. However some horrible questions about their true intentions come to your head every night. And the only one person, who knows the answer, is ignoring your existence, preferring the company of her own. Except Angie, of course. When the sun hides behind the waterfall, the owner of the manor comes from somewhere, takes her continuously chatting feral creature and disappears. You can swear she has some teleportation skills. For one moment you could say she was an illusion or a fever dream of yours. But there was always Angie with her bites to make you deny these thoughts swiftly. Still your various assumptions are never gone. This night does not differ from the others. Eyes are shut but mind is overwhelmed. Thus, after some useless attempts to fall asleep, you find yourself wandering around the empty house until you see the dim light coming from the slightly open door. The curiosity wins so you have no choice but come a little closer on your tiptoes. Behind the crack there is your lady, painting a little porcelain face, all alone. Just her and soft sound of creating a new friend. Something about this view makes you stay, watching her work quietly. That’s impolite to stare you think when it’s too late. Unfortunately, the period of time is long enough to get noticed by her. Now you are caught and there is no way back. You have to speak.

"My lady, I apologise for interrupting you. I didn’t mean anything bad. I have an insomnia. Please may I stay here? Just for a little while." You say that so fast as if you are ready to get killed for your audacity. But the slight nod is the only response you have.

You hoped for this reaction but wasn’t really prepared. So you just froze for a few seconds before finally making your way through the room, looking at its beautifully arranged furniture. Still something, without any sign of mercy, is beckoning you to come to her as closer as possible. Besides, the is always a chance for you not to see the tomorrow morning. So you just decided to use all of your carriage to keep this opportunity. You slowly got down on the floor next to her, waiting for any sign of her disapproval to run away and blame yourself for such a stupid behavior for the rest of your life. You don’t know exactly what you are doing. It’s really hard to use the brains when every part of your soul is screaming inside you. Fortunately and scarily, she didn’t show any urge to stop you. You just closed your eyes, leaning your cheek to her dress to feel the soft material caressing your face. Every little thing about this woman is soothing and cosy. You can’t help this atmosphere wrapping you up in its embrace. You have been waiting for these minutes for too long that it almost makes you cry in relief. You feel like you’re in heaven and it suits your thoughts of being probably already dead just fine. It’s like being asleep and you look exactly this way when her fingers runs through your locks. Your heart is about to fly away from the chest but you don’t dare to move, relishing the soft touch. It would be unforgivable to scare this precious moment off. She keeps gently stroking your hair, sometimes drawing circles and flowers on the top of your head. You do your best not to tremble and pretend to sleep. But after half an hour it is not an acting anymore. You don’t realise how tired you are so…you wake up. In your bed. In your room. Is it just another dream? Who knows. Well, only the one may know.

#may English grammar forgive me #I do my best I promise #screaming crying throwing up while writing it #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #re8 #donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #donna beneviento x y/n #lady donna beneviento #angie beneviento #donna re8 #re8 fic #fanfic

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munsonkitten · 7 months

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Izzy Hands has almost met his end on more than one occasion. More than half of which were probably Ed’s own doing, if he’s being completely honest with himself. Each of those times, Izzy crawls out of wherever he’s found himself, right back to barking orders. Every single time. Right back to work like nothing ever happened.

Part of him knew that when he handed Izzy that gun. He definitely knew that when he shot him in the knee. Izzy makes it out, he perseveres. He doesn’t give up because he’s an indestructible little fucker that Ed can’t kill.

That’s just the thing about it, though, isn’t it? Ed didn’t do it this time.

And that’s why Izzy’s underneath the soil they buried him in, beneath the cross they fashioned out of his wooden leg and a stick they found. His cravat hanging around it, his mother’s ring glistening in the sunlight.

Ed spends a lot of time out there, sitting by Izzy like he’s still there. Because the truth is, he just can’t let him go. That’s why he took over that house on the beach where Izzy was laid to rest. That’s why he’s given up pirating to stay near him. It’s why he couldn’t let them toss Izzy into the sea like he probably would’ve wanted.

“Today Stede and me, we patched up the roof of our new inn,” Ed tells him, like Izzy can hear. It just feels like the thing to do when sitting next to someone’s grave, so they don’t feel so alone down there. Sometimes Ed thinks that’s the reason why he’s never been able to just sit with himself, why it felt so wrong to do it in that boat with Fang.

It’s because the whole sea is a graveyard of men he knew once upon a time.

“Ed, dear,” Stede’s voice rings out from the house. “Come inside, now, love. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Ed sighs, sniffles, and wipes the tears he didn’t realize were falling. It’s silly, really. He knew Izzy would die some day. He was almost the cause of it on multiple occasions and didn’t feel a thing when it happened those times.

But now, Ed himself feels like a dead man walking.

He’s missing a limb, missing his right hand. And the thing is, the thing that really hurts most, is that the person he wants to talk to most about it, is the person who’s dead.

“Coming,” Ed calls back.

He pushes himself up off the ground, his bad knee aching from sitting on it wrong this whole time. He doesn’t know how long he’s been out here, but he knows that it’s dinner time now and he came out after they fixed the roof, which was sometime after lunch.

He’s grateful that Stede is giving him the time to mourn, giving him this time to talk with Izzy when he needs to. When things just get so jumbled up in his head he can’t make sense of them, Izzy was the one that took those things and turned them into plans and got Ed’s head on straight enough to execute them.

They were Blackbeard. Not just Ed. Both of them.

And Ed likes being Ed, he does. Blackbeard wasn’t him, and it can’t be him without Izzy by his side.

He just… Wishes that Izzy could come with Ed. That they could be EdandIzzy together, just as they were Blackbeard together.

As he takes his first step back up toward the wooden house, a lone seagull swoops down from the sky and lands on the top of the cross. It coos at him, bobbing its head up and down as it stretches out and shakes off its wet wings. It closes them again, curling in on itself comfortably.

The seagull’s been around, Ed’s seen it, and through the haze of his grief he thinks that it’s nice that something comes to keep Izzy company when Ed’s away.

“That bird won’t leave him alone,” Stede says when Ed comes in. He’s wiping his hands on a dish towel, looking out through the open door with that look on his face. That confused one he’s directed at Ed a few times. Puzzles he can’t quite figure out. “Do you think it’s going to eat him? Do sea birds do that?”

“I dunno, mate,” Ed sighs. “Reckon they probably do.”

He pulls off his jacket and hangs it on one of the hooks Stede nailed to the wall.

“That’s unfortunate,” Stede says, turning back to look at Ed. His face goes from confusion to something soft. Something sad. “How are you today, love?”

“A bit shit, honestly,” Ed answers. “It’s… all a bit shit.”

“I know it is, Edward,” Stede says. He opens up his arms and lets Ed fall into them, one of his hands coming up to cradle Ed’s head. It makes Ed feel small, cared for.

“I’m sorry,” Ed sniffles. “I love this place, I love that we’re here. I just wish…”

“I know, darling,” Stede whispers. “You don’t have to be sorry. Not to me.”

Ed nods and pulls away from the hug, instead bending down to unlace his boots. Stede told him last night they should wear their shoes in the house until they make sure the floor is safe, but it’s a goddamn house, and Ed will take off his shoes if he damn well pleases. What’s a little rusty nail through his foot when the pain in his heart is so much worse.

“Well, I’m going to finish up supper,” Stede says. “I’ll leave you to that.”

“Thank you,” Ed says, short and quick to send Stede back off to the other side of the house.

He knows he’s not being the best partner right now. He knows that. But he just doesn’t know how to explain it all to Stede.

Yes, he loves Stede. He really, truly does. He’d give up piracy and shave his beard a million times over for him, there’s no debate on that. He just didn’t think he’d have to go through life without Izzy. Not like this. Sure, he could give up pirating and send Izzy on his way, but the fucker would always come back, that much Ed is certain of. He would make up excuses to dock and spend the night in Ed’s inn, to drink through the night. It’s always been part of the fantasy.

Every time he imagines his life, Izzy is there in every single outcome. And sure, he’s here now. He’s buried in the dirt a few meters away. That’s not how Ed ever wanted it.

He loves Stede and he always will, but he loved Izzy, too. Best he could. Always did.

Now, he feels like the best he could wasn’t really the whole of it. It was right at the end where his chest was cold and clenching and his chin wouldn’t stop wobbling and his brain went full of so much fog he thinks it had to have been coming out of his ears, where he realized he couldn’t live without Izzy Hands. His family stood behind him, sure, but Izzy was the only one that mattered right then.

He’s felt lost ever since and he doesn’t know how that could possibly be because Stede is guiding him through it. Stede is cooking dinner and he makes sure Ed is taken care of, and he held him last night while they slept on their little bed together, and it’s still… It’s still not enough.

And it should be enough. It should be enough that he has Stede, and he shouldn’t be so broken up about Izzy dying because it was always going to happen.

Ed just thought he’d go first or shortly after. All these years he thought that he would die with Izzy Hands. But that was just Blackbeard. Blackbeard is the only one dying with Izzy Hands, and Edward Teach is still here. Forced to rewrite his own story when the scenes in his head feel like staring at a blank wall.

Life after Izzy Hands is a blank wall, a lighthouse with no fire. He’s going to crash up on the rocks because he fell in love with an anchor that he couldn’t hold onto.

“Ed, darling?” Stede calls out again.

Ed snaps himself out of it. He comes back to the little wooden house with its splintered floorboards and its dirty walls. He pushes his boots over to the side, lines them up side by side next to the door they had to fix when they first arrived.

Fixing things helps. The door latch needed fixing, so Ed did that. The roof needed fixing so he climbed right up there. Their bedroom window was broken so Ed boarded it up until they can find new glass for it.

He can fix these things, so he does.

He walks on socked feet into the kitchen to find Stede there. He ladles something into a bowl, something that Zheng taught him to make with the ingredients and utensils Roach gave from the Revenge’s kitchen. Ed sits down at the table he took with them, something tucked away in the room that was holding all his remaining treasure. There wasn’t much after Calypso’s party, but there was enough to get them started in their little house.

“I was thinking we should call our inn Izzy’s. A way to honor him,” Stede says as he sets a bowl in front of Ed. “How does that sound to you, dear?”

“Think he’d have fuckin’ hated it,” Ed says. “Sounds good to me.”

Stede takes the spot across from him at the table, his own bowl steaming in front of him. Ed looks down at the bits of meat and the noodles swirling around in the broth.

He isn’t really hungry, but Stede’s going to tell him to eat, so he does. It’s good fucking soup.

“Izzy would’ve liked this,” Ed says.

“Well, thank you,” Stede says. “It was Zheng’s recipe, but I don’t think I could do it like her.”

“No, I mean,” Ed says, shaking his head. “He would’ve liked this. All of it. Having a home here, fixing it up, being right by the beach. Wish he could’ve had this. He deserved to have this.”

When Ed looks up from his bowl, Stede’s looking at him with a sad smile and glistening eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just nods and reaches across the table to take one of Ed’s hands in his own.

“I know he was kind of a dick,” Ed says. “You don’t have to pretend he wasn’t, or name your inn after him. I get it, babe, I do. He was a fucking dick, and I miss him, but you don’t have to.”

“He was your dick, Edward,” Stede says, then shakes his head. Ed can’t even crack a smile at it. “I just mean, he was often blunt, and he thought of me as quite the moron, but… You love him, and these last few weeks, I was able to see another side of him. I started to understand that the way he said things didn’t always mean he was mad or aiming to hurt, not all the time, and I know that if I had more time, I would start to fully understand why you love him so.”

“Loved,” Ed whispers.

“Your love doesn’t have to go away just because he’s gone, Edward,” Stede says softly. “He’s still in your heart. Always will be, darling. And that’s okay.”

“I love you,” Ed whispers. Because he has to say it, has to tell Stede that it’s true because it is. He loves Stede so it shouldn’t matter that he’s lost Izzy.

“I know you do,” Stede says. “You can love more than one person, darling. It doesn’t mean you love me less, or that you have to let go of him. I’ve always known that he would be part of our lives, part of our love, no matter what form that may have taken. I just feel horrible that it has to be this way.”

Ed nods, even if he knows Stede is giving him more than he deserves, just saying all of that, implying what he’s implying, because nothing can come from it. What Ed wants, what he thinks he’s always wanted, can never be given to him.

That’s why Stede’s words don’t wash away the pain or guilt. Because Ed would want them both if Izzy were still here. Now that he knows what it’s like to not have him at all.

“Finish your dinner, Edward,” Stede says softly. Gentle in a way Ed loves. “I think we should turn in early tonight.”

They finish up and Ed helps Stede clean up the dishes and put them away in the cupboards. He likes keeping busy, scrubbing their bowls cleaner than they have to be. He can look right out the front window above the wash basin and see Izzy’s grave from here. The seagull is still sitting there, just politely sitting. No scavenging for bones or flesh beneath the dirt.

“Didn’t you say Buttons turned into a seagull?” Stede asks, nudging Ed with his elbow.

Ed nods, and he looks out there again. The bird is looking right at them, black eyes staring right into Ed’s soul, if he even has one anymore.

“No fuckin way,” Ed whispers. “You don’t think…”

“Darling, it was just a little joke,” Stede says.

“No, but he really did,” Ed says. “That’s him out there. Certain of it.”

“I’ve told you, love, that’s not possible,” Stede says, resting a hand over Ed’s forearm. Ed stops scrubbing at the bowl in his hand. “C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

He stands there for a second longer, staring down that bird, waiting for something to happen, but nothing does.

Stede drags him away from the kitchen and pulls him over to the other room. He helps Ed with his pants, pulls them off his legs and leaves them in a pile of leather on the floor. Ed settles into their bed and scoots over to the wall, watching as Stede undresses.

When Stede settles in beside him and faces him, his eyes ask a question, one Ed has seen countless times now. He nods, just a small little thing, and leans in to press his lips to Stede’s. He’ll never get tired of this, of kissing the man he loves.

“Goodnight Edward,” Stede whispers when he pulls away. “Get some sleep.”

His arm settles heavily over Ed’s waist when he turns over to press his back to Stede’s chest. He curls in on himself, letting himself feel small again, like he did back when he and Izzy were younger, sharing a hammock on Hornigold’s ship, seeking comfort after the horrible days they endured.

It’s always been hard for Ed to fall asleep, but tonight he welcomes it easily.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy for him to stay asleep.

Izzy’s in his dream, the memory of him clutching the bullet wound on his stomach, hands turning red with the blood spilling out. In his dream he leans down and kisses Izzy’s forehead, his cheek, his lips, in those last moments, what he had wanted to do. He whispers I love you, please don’t leave me, Iz, like he should’ve said. I love you and I’m sorry. I love you, I love you.

Because he’s allowed to. Stede said he’s allowed to love Izzy, but loving Izzy like this hurts. It’s painful, knowing that it doesn’t keep him alive in the end.

He wakes up crying.

Something full bodied and overpowering. Sobs shaking every part of him. Choking him, like a rope pulled taut around his neck. He can’t breathe, can’t see through his tears.

“You’re alright, darling,” Stede whispers. He’s sitting up behind Ed, his chest pressed up against his back, but Ed can’t feel him. Can barely hear him.

“What are you fuckers cryin’ about,” comes a rasp from across the room. “Christ, you’d think someone fuckin’ died.”

And no. No, no, no.

“Wake up, Ed, wake up,” he tells himself. “Wake up.”

“You’re awake, Edward.” And that’s Izzy’s voice again, but it can’t be. It can’t be.

“Izzy?” Stede whispers.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Izzy says.

And no, it can’t be him. It can’t be because Izzy’s dead, they buried him. He’s buried out in the yard. Dead, gone. Dead.

Ed’s eyes start to adjust in the darkness, in the faint light of the moon coming in through the open bedroom door. The door that Stede shut before they fell asleep. He scans the room until he sees him in the corner, there in the chair Stede put in their bedroom for whatever reason.

He’s sitting there. Izzy’s sitting there, adjusting the buckles on his wooden leg.

“I guess this is where I thank you for not tossing me into the sea tied to a cannonball,” Izzy says. “Was hard enough digging myself out of that shallow grave. You know I would’ve washed right out of that thing if it rained? What then, Edward? I doubt your boyfriend would’ve liked cleaning that up.”

“What are you—”

“Oh, Edward,” Izzy says. “Didn’t you learn anything during your own brush with death?”

The gravy basket. Purgatory.

“I was stuck somewhere,” Izzy says. “And then I heard your crying. Oh Izzy, please don’t go. Izzy, I'm so sorry. Figured I should probably see what all that was about.”

Ed climbs out of bed, leaving Stede where he is. He takes a few steps toward Izzy, reaching out just to make sure he’s real. To make sure he’s really there. He reaches out until his hand comes in contact with the scratchy little hairs on Izzy’s cheek. He slides his hand down to cup his chin, the beard there.

“You want me to pinch you?” Izzy offers, his voice low and quiet in the dark room. They’re all so quiet, the sounds of nothing but their breathing and the waves crashing outside.

“You’re really back?” Ed asks.

“I’m really back, Edward. I believe you were the one that called me an indestructible little fucker.”

Ed laughs, something choked and wet. He falls down to his knees, his hands settling on Izzy’s thighs. He drops his head, sobs forcing their way out of his body, choked and strangled. A gloved hand rests in his head.

“Oh, get up, you twat,” Izzy says. It’s laced with something that sounds like affection coming from Izzy Hands. From anyone else it would be an insult, a knife in the gut. From Izzy, it’s everything Ed thought he’d never get to have ever again.

He doesn’t get up, just pushes himself closer, pushes his face into Izzy’s stomach, the spot where the wound is, and Izzy winces.

“Not healed, you fucker. Just because I’m back from the dead doesn’t mean I wasn’t there,” Izzy grunts.

“I don’t get it,” Ed cries. “I don’t get how you’re here.”

“It’s harder than that to kill me, Eddie,” Izzy whispers, the name bringing back the memory of his last words. Ed thinks he’d kill anyone else for calling him that, but not Izzy. “Wasn’t gonna let that fucking moron be the death of me.”

“If I may interrupt—” Stede says from behind Ed. “Izzy, let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

“Sorry for dragging dirt through your lovely home, Bonnet,” Izzy says in that way that says he isn’t sorry at all.

“Up you go, c’mon,” Stede says. “We have a lovely bathtub. Allow me to warm some water while Ed helps you undress.”

Stede lights a few candles before leaving the room, illuminating them in the orange glow of fire. Izzy has seen better days, that’s for sure. He’s caked in dirt and blood, and he looks like he’s about to keel over at any second.

He helps him with his clothes, carefully unbuttons his shirt and pulls it off his shoulders. He can see the wound now, the crusted blood and the hole in his abdomen. It’s in a bad spot, but as Ed looks at it, he sees how Izzy could’ve survived it. He can see it more clearly now, where it is, how he likely fell unconscious due to blood loss instead of anything important being hit.

There’s probably still a chance of him dying. From infection, most likely. From not being able to eat or keep anything down, also likely.

“Bath’s actually quite shit,” Ed says for something to do. “Not as nice as the one on the Revenge.”

Izzy just nods, standing there with his hand braced on the wall while Ed moves to the laces on his pants.

“Are you sure Bonnet’s okay with you getting in my pants?” Izzy croaks.

“Hush, Izzy,” Ed says. He doesn’t feel like now is the time to talk about it. It’s not the time to talk about it.

He gets Izzy undressed and gathers the clothes into a pile. They're British uniform clothes. They didn’t want to undress him just to bury him, so Ed has his old stuff tucked away in his trunk at the foot of the bed. He has them, and he’ll give them back when Izzy’s clean. Maybe for tonight, though, Ed will suggest one of Stede’s night shirts for Izzy to sleep in. Something easy to get on and off, something that will offer easier access to his wound.

“Do you want the leg back on?” Ed asks, trying not to look as Izzy stands there on one foot, naked save from the cravat around his neck, the ring secure above the knot. He’ll let Izzy take that off if he wants to.

“Just help me hobble,” Izzy says.

With an arm around Izzy’s waist, Ed helps him jump toward the little bathroom across from the bedroom. Stede’s in there, pouring a bucket of water into the large basin. He looks over his collection of bath oils, running his fingers along the carefully labeled bottles before picking one up and pulling out the stopper.

“Should I leave you to it?” Stede asks.

“No,” Ed and Izzy say at the same time. They look at each other and Izzy shrugs.

“Right,” Stede says, looking at a loss for words. “Well, in you go, then. Shouldn’t be too hot”

Ed helps Izzy over the ledge and gently lowers him down.

“Fuck,” Izzy groans. “Haven’t had a bath in fucking ever.”

“It’s quite nice, isn’t it?” Stede says softly.

He’s wringing his hands as he stands there, like he’s way out of his depth right now. Ed wants to reassure him, but he doesn’t really know what to say. He can’t shake the shock of his first mate coming back from the dead, crawling his way out of his grave and into his bedroom. He feels like he’s going to wake up from this dream and find himself back in his nightmare.

Instead of saying anything, Ed takes one of the wash clothes Stede set out and dips it into the water next to Izzy’s knee, the one that just ends. Because of something he did to him.

He can fix this. He can fix this now, one step at a time. Just like he fixed the door latch, boarded up the window, and climbed up on the roof. Just like how he’s going to fix the floorboards in the entryway tomorrow and find another bed in town to slide into place next to his and Stede’s so all three of them can fit in it together. Even though now isn’t the time to talk about that.

He can fix this. He’s good at fixing things, especially when Izzy’s involved.

“Alright, there, Eddie?” Izzy asks, soft and concerned.

Ed has his hand still submerged in water, lost in his thoughts while he stares down at the stump of Izzy’s knee.

“I’m perfect, Iz,” Ed says.

He pulls the washcloth out of the water and gets to work, slowly wiping away the blood caked around his wound, just gently dabbing as it comes loose from his skin and the hair on his body. Izzy winces, but doesn’t say anything. Grips Ed’s arm but doesn’t push him away.

He’s always been good at handling pain. It just breaks Ed’s heart that he can’t take it all away. That’s something he can’t really fix.

“I’m sorry Edward,” Izzy says.

“No,” Ed whispers. He squeezes out the towel and brings it to Izzy’s face. “No.”

“Yes,” Izzy insists. “I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“You’re back now,” Ed whispers. “You’re back now.”

And even if Izzy doesn’t make it, at least Ed has more time with him. At least he can say what should’ve said, and done what he wanted to do. Not right now, not this very second, but he will. He has more time.

Stede rests a hand on his shoulder, warm and reassuring. Behind him, he has his guiding light, and in front of him he has his anchor. He needs them both because without one, he’ll just be adrift forever, and without the other, he’ll crash up on the rocks.

After Izzy’s as clean as he can be, they both help him out and set him down on a stool to dry him off. Stede talks, says something about getting him a leg custom-made to fit him and his needs, and Ed just listens. He listens as Izzy huffs, watches as he rolls his eyes and mutters stupid fucking Stede Bonnet under his breath, and he sees the smile on Stede’s lips like he’s missed this too.

“Thank you for doing this,” Izzy says after a while. “You didn’t have to do any of this.”

“We care about you, Izzy,” Stede says, helping Izzy into a long sock. “Ed hasn’t been himself since you left us.”

“I feel like I’ve had this same conversation with you,” Izzy says.

“Yes, well,” Stede sighs. “It appears that he needs both of us. Isn’t that right, love?”

Stede’s looking at him now, waiting for an answer.

Ed nods. “Yeah, guess so.”

“I’m going to give you two a moment while I figure out sleeping arrangements,” Stede says, pushing himself up to stand. He squeezes Ed’s shoulder. “You should tell him.”

“Tell me what?” Izzy grunts when Stede’s left and shut the door behind him.

“It wasn’t the same without you, mate,” Ed says. “I didn’t realize I’d miss you so much.”

It’s vulnerable. It’s hard to say. He knows he needs to say it, to let it all out. Stede said it was okay to love more than one person at a time. He thinks of Jim, of Archie and Oluwande and Zheng. How they’ve all fallen into each other and seem to make it work just fine.

“And I, well, I fear I might love you,” Ed blurts out, all in a rush.

“You fear?” Izzy scoffs.

“Hey, now, I’m trying to… I’m being serious, mate,” Ed says. “I wasn’t good to you, I know that. I know that I’m the reason you lost your leg, and I know I went a bit crazy back there, but I… I can’t live without you, Iz. I tried, and I knew I wasn’t going to last long like this.”

“What about Stede?” Izzy asks.

“He said I can love more than one person,” Ed tells him. “That loving you doesn’t mean I love him less, and loving him doesn’t mean I can’t love you. It’s… Fuck, I don’t expect it to be easy, but it’ the truth.”

“And what am I supposed to do with this truth, Edward?” Izzy asks. “I’m supposed to split you with Bonnet? Leave the room every time you want to dock your ship in his harbor, eh?”

Ed snorts. He can’t help it. “Don’t know about all that. I just know that I want you around while I figure it all out.”

“What do you want me to say to that?”

“Say you’ll stay,” Ed says. “Say you’ll love me, too.”

“Edward, I’ve loved you for thirty years,” Izzy says. “Didn’t take you almost dying for me to figure it out.”

“I know, Iz, I know,” Ed says. “I don’t expect you to just forgive me for everything, or to jump into my arms, okay? I just… I just needed you to know. I just need you to stay.”

“Don’t know where else I’d go. Didn’t see any boats on that beach,” Izzy mutters. “Fine, Ed, yes, I’ll stay. But… What about Bonnet?”

“You keep asking about Stede,” Ed says. “Might start to think you’re in love with him, too, mate.”

Izzy scowls at him, but his cheeks turn pink in the candlelight, and oh.

“You two got close, didn’t you?” Ed asks gently. “That’s nice. He cares for you, you know.”

Izzy swats at him half heartedly and Ed finally stands from where he’s crouched down. He helps Izzy stand, the night shirt Stede put over his head, falling down to hang beneath his knees.

They open the door to see Stede standing on the other side. He takes over on Izzy’s other side, his arm coming around his waist and crossing over Ed’s.

“There you both are,” Stede says. “Was about to come check on you.”

Stede guides them back to the bedroom, and Ed sees a bunch of blankets and sheets laid out on the floor, one of the pillows at the top of the makeshift bed.

“You two take the bed tonight,” Stede tells them. “It’ll be more comfortable for you, Izzy.”

“I can take the floor,” Ed offers.

“No, no, dear,” Stede says, helping lower Izzy down onto the mattress. “You keep Izzy safe tonight, I’ll just be right here on the floor.”

He stands there as Izzy scoots over to the wall and lays down on his back. Ed looks at Stede for just another second before nodding in agreement.

A kiss gets pressed to his forehead, then to his lips, something soft and sweet as Stede pulls the blankets up over both of them.

When he pulls back, he reaches over and cups Izzy’s cheek, thumb rubbing gently over his skin, something soft and affectionate that Ed is sure Izzy is going to smack away. Instead, Izzy presses his face further into the hand and his eyes flutter shut, a small sigh falling from his parted lips.

“There you both are, tucked in safe and sound,” Stede says softly, pulling his hand away to straighten the blanket over their chests. “Sleep well, my loves.”

The endearment isn’t lost on Ed, the plural of it all. Loves. Both of them, it seems. He feels Izzy’s hand find and squeeze his under the blanket, holding onto him like they did in their hammock thirty years ago. He knows that Izzy heard it too, that he doesn’t know how to accept it, how to let it comfortably wash over him.

A small whimper falls from Izzy, and Ed turns over to face him.

“It’s alright,” Ed whispers. “Scary at first, I know. You think you don’t deserve it, but you do. You do, Izzy.”

He sees Izzy nod in the dark, and feels his hand squeeze his own.

“You sure you want this, Edward?” Izzy asks, his strained words warm breaths against Ed’s neck.

He slides his fingers over Izzy’s wrist, feeling the thrumming pulse beneath his skin. The proof that Izzy’s alive, that he’s here with him, that they’re allowed to love each other like this.

“Always did,” Ed tells him. He presses his lips to Izzy’s forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin against his mouth. Hears the sharp intake of breath from Izzy. “Always will.”

And it’s the truth, the best he can give.

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justrainandcoffee · 2 months

Text

Against all odds (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) Part 2

Crossover Peaky Blinders - Hunger Games

Series Masterlist - Part 1

Summary: The 60th edition started and Philip and Reah are in the Arena. Alfie knows this will not be easy and his hopes aren't very high. But those being officially the first games for Rose, she has other expectations. She's has hopes. || Two years later, during the 62th edition, Alfie is facing the consequences of being close to Mrs. Evert.

Series warnings: Mentions of sex (consent and non-con). Murders. Blood. PTSD. Cheating. Prostitution. || This is set in Panem universe. Topics as minors being sexual corrupted are also mentioned because it's CANON.

Words: 3.6 k || Alfie x Rose masterlist || Here I mentioned the OCs Eva who belongs to @evita-shelby and Lucy who belongs to @emotionalcadaver.

Hearing Alfie's advice, both kids survived the bloodbath but they got separated. While Reah was inside a stone cave, Philip went downhill in search of water. Neither of them had weapons yet, but the cameras showed how Reah was sharpening a rock to make a knife.

Alfie was watching everything in silence. It was as good that they survived that damn bloodbath. The previous year, both of his tributes died there. But they were weaker than the Philip and Reah, despite they were older. At least now Alfie could focus on searching sponsors.

His own bloodbath. His mind went to six years ago. The first one was a boy from district 7. Alfie grabbed him by the neck and smashed his head against a frozen rock. Two times was enough to kill him. Then, against the probabilities, he murdered the girl from district 1 who attacked him by the back. She was a well toned girl, trained to kill people even stronger than Alfie himself. But he managed to grab her by her braid and pushed her down. When she screamed and let him go, Alfie threw her to the ground and mounted her. The boy stabbed her in the eye with her own knife, she died instantly. The girl's body remained there with the handle protruding from her blue eye, the blade was deep in her brain. He grabbed the sickles and ran away.

"How are they?"

Hearing Rose's voice helped him to clean his thoughts. She had a plate of pastries in her hand and offered him one, which he accepted.

"Alive."

"That's good. How many died?"

"Seven. But there's one, the girl from district 10 who's severed injured. She's not gonna make it, she can't. Even if the mentor sends her medicine… so, eight."

"Poor girl. Suffering it's the worst part."

"I guess."

The screen showed a pack of tributes chasing a younger boy. They were laughing and cheering as usual. It was the adrenaline speaking for them. At the end of the third or fourth day, neither of them will be laughing anymore and probably most of the pack will be dead. But now their brains were still under the influence of the adrenaline and they were not conscious at all what the games were really about.

Rose saw how the man was staring the screens and decided to leave him alone. She didn't know what to say, after all and Alfie needed to focus on the kids. Maybe, one of them could be lucky enough to win the games.

The third night since the beginning of the games, Alfie returned to their floor to sleep. He needed to go to his bedroom to rest. But he found Rose at the table, she was clearly crying but tried to hide it when she heard him. She closed her sketchbook.

Alfie sat next to her. He didn't need to ask what was wrong with her, the reason was that Reah was dead. No one but the gamemakers killed her. She was running when an avalanche of stones fell over her head. Other two tributes died with Reah.

"You get used to it," he said. "Sooner or later."

"She was sweet."

"She was, yes."

"You really get used to it? Seeing the same kids you laughed with, you ate with… die like animals?"

"You need to get used to it, Rosebeth, or your going crazy," Alfie picked up some grapes that were over the table.

She shook her head, "that's not my fucking name."

"It's not? Then what's your name?"

"Just Rose."

"I prefer that. Why do you call yourself Rosebeth, then?"

"Because I need to be a new person here. I can't be Rose. Rose can't smile and pretend that everything here is fucking fine, when it's not. But Rosebeth can. She can. When I cross that fucking door I need to pretend. I have to clap, I have to laugh. It was my secret, no one knew my real name until now. But it doesn't matter now."

Alfie studied her. She wasn't just sad. The woman next to him was angry. Alfie remembered her words from the past week when they argued on the balcony. The eyes of a person who knew what you felt when you're waiting for a death sentence when you're only 12. Even if she escaped from it.

"Did you lose someone on the games?"

"No. At least no one I knew. My mother lost her best friend and the sister of hers, before I was born. The three of them were friends, apparently and my middle brother lost an old buddy. He was 15. This girl, Reah, she was… she was the first one I was close to," she didn't realise she was crying again. She kept talking while sobbing. "I thought… that maybe… I-I- even was designing a dress for her in case, she was the winner. FUCK!"

He couldn't help but put an arm around her. He was sure she wasn't the frivolous and indifferent woman he thought she was at first. At least she cared for the kids and her sadness was real. Rose was crying against his shoulder.

"It's okay, Rose. Sometimes is better to die there than face the consequences of surviving the games. Believe me: You don't win the games. You survive them... Sometimes not even that."

It wasn't uncommon for some victors to commit suicide. Alfie himself thought about it, but he never did it.

Rose relaxed when his fingers started to stroke her hair.

"I'm sorry," she said still against him.

"For what?"

"For everything. I'm not part of this, but living here I feel I own you an apology. For having to kill to survive, for whatever people did to you after the Games, for Reah… the other kids…"

"You did nothing. You're not the enemy."

"I married the enemy."

"But you're not him."

Finally she pulled apart from his shoulder. There was a wet spot on his shirt where her face was, she tried in vain to dry it out with her hand. For a moment both of them stared at each other in the eyes. Alfie wiped away the last tears of her face and she closed her eyes. She didn't need to see to know that Alfie was leaning towards her. Rose first felt his breathing against her skin, then his beard and finally his lips on hers.

It wasn't love. It wasn't even a 'I like you', it was a 'this is the only way I know to find comfort.'

It wasn't passionate, hot, messy either. It was a calm, soft but firm. If usually sex calmed his thoughts, Alfie discovered that kissing her gave him peace. Something he forgot he could feel.

"Thanks," he said later nuzzling his nose against hers.

"For?"

"For understanding."

This time it was her who kissed him. It felt good, probably the only good thing she felt since she put a foot in the Capitol four years ago. Alfie's hand was on the back of her head pushing her against him. For a moment the kiss was hotter than before. But Alfie stopped himself.

"I can't."

"Don't worry. It's okay. It's already late… probably we should go to sleep. It's… don't worry." Rose smiled at him, even when her eyes are still puffy and red. "Philip still needs you."

Alfie stood up and kissed the crown of her head before leading to his own bedroom. He couldn't sleep until hours later.

The next morning to Alfie's relief he discovered that Philip was still alive unlike tributes from district 11 and 12. The girl from 12 died because of Philip. Alfie was still amazed that a boy with only one had could be so skilled and strong. But the kid was and after four days he was still alive.

"Any luck with the sponsors?" Rose asked him.

"Not really. I think he needs water, maybe. I haven't seen him drink since yesterday and the landscape is terrible."

"Mmm. Let me help."

Alfie saw her fix her dress and after looking around she went to talk with an old man. Alfie understood what she meant with Rose and Rosebeth. The latter was chirpy and flirty, was full of joy and was very persuasive. Not long after, the old man approached Alfie and with his help Philip received not just water but necessary food.

Minutes later when they watched the screens both of them saw the moment that Philip received his gifts. The boy was happy. Alone behind a big rock, Philip calmed his thirst. Rose was happy too. Before going with the rest of the staff, she smiled and winked at him. And Alfie couldn't help but smiled too… for the first since he visited that damn place for the first time.

But happiness isn't something you can feel during the Hunger Games.

Philip survived, against all odds, to the sixth day. Not only that, he was one of the two last survivors.

The tension was palpable. It was him, a boy from the third poorest district, or the boy from district 4, one of the richest. But when you're about to die, the fact that you're poor or rich doesn't matter. Alfie could see his boy was tired, sweating and sick. But the boy from district 4 wasn't doing well either. One of his eyes was closed and his right knee was bleeding. Both boys were staring at each other. Dmitri, the other boy, had a hatchet but Philip had his spear. If Philip threw his spear and failed it was over. But Philip never failed. So, he did it, he threw his spear which ended in Dmitri's liver. The boy from district 4 fell on his knees.

Alfie forgot to breathe. He never, never wished the dead of any boy or girl, but…

Philip never failed. But Dmitri either. Even when he was half dead, his hatchet ended on Philip's skull. And the games were about the last man standing. And that was Dmitri. Philip was dead.

Alfie walked blindly towards the elevator. He barely saw around him. He pushed away aggressively the male mentor from district 12 who was on his way but this one said nothing. He knew what Alfie was feeling. Whatever he wanted to say it wasn't the moment. A red haired girl at his side remained in silence as well.

Alfie broke two glasses against the wall. Rage, fury… there weren't words to describe his anger. The young, cheerful, sweet Philip was so, so close to win his games. How many more times he was going to tolerate that? How many boys and girls were going to die under his protection? No one, except him, knew about the hate he experienced every time he had to face the family of those who died. As it was his fault that the games exist. As he himself wasn't haunted by his own demons. The faces of those kids… 12 mentored, 12 dead.

Alissa was quiet, too. Every year she had to see too those kids dying over and over again. When Rose opened the door, saw the broken glasses on the floor and Alissa on the sofa. But Alfie wasn't there. Carefully entering his bedroom, she saw him sat on the mattress with his face in his hands. She wasn't next to him when happened but in her studio. She was devastated like happened with Reah, or even worse because Philip was about to win. Just seconds away from his victory and in a millisecond… he was dead.

Alfie didn't watch at Rose when he heard her. Nor didn't react when she caressed his back. His mind wasn't there. The hatchet. Alfie could see Philip's death in his mind in loop.

He didn't realise he was trembling. But Rose did. He forced him to look at her by putting one of her hands on his cheek. She stroked his beard with her thumb, slowly and kissed him. Same as happened when Reah died, it was more comfort than other feelings. Alfie reciprocated. This time she ended on the mattress with him on top of her.

If it wasn't because of the fucked up situation. If it wasn't because of two kids were dead, the whole scene could've been interpreted as the beginning of something especial. Alfie was caressing her abdomen and she had her arms around him. But it was just a kiss. It helped both of them to feel better, if that was possible, at least for a moment.

"Maybe next year," she whispered against his mouth.

"Maybe next year."

But it wasn't the previous year. The winner was a boy nicknamed Jack from district 2. Tall, handsome and lethal.

But destiny it's so cruel that this year it was his twin brother who was competing. If he was like his brother, then the poor children from district 9 competing this year didn't stand a chance. In Rose's mind still was alive the memory of Philip two years ago. Last year the girl died during the bloodbath and the boy after two days.

She saw the reaping celebration. This year district 9 was represented by Armand (17) and Theresa (14). Alfie was right, you get used to kids' death as cruel as it sounded. She felt the death of the previous kids but it wasn't like with Reah and especially Philip.

She didn't have much hopes. Probably the winner was going to be the boy from District 2 and could join his brother in the glory of being a champion. Unless someone could bet him against all odds.

Alfie was staring through the train window. Theresa and Armand were talking to each other and giggling. Alfie didn't know if they were pretending that the train trip was something enjoyable or they were just ignoring their probably fate. Seven consecutive years as mentor and not a single winner. Alfie was sure that he'll never going to return home with a victor.

"I saw her the other day" Alissa commented sitting down at his side. She had a glass of orange juice in her hand.

"Who?"

"You know who, Alfie…" Alissa smiled sideways.

"Mmh."

"Her hair is shorter now. You should compliment her. We women like that."

Alissa looked at him. She had been there when Alfie was reaped eight years ago and saw him became a mentor, too. He was always a grumpy young man. But if Alfie thought she was an idiot, he was wrong. She saw the changes two years ago. She saw the way his eyes softened when he looked at her after the girl's death. And the previous year Alissa saw the way he brushed her hand when he thought no one was watching. And even if Alfie was determined to remain in silence, that it was his right, he couldn't lie to her.

"Anyway," Alissa said "I'm going to prepare for our arrival. You should do the same, Alfie."

"Her hair is shorter now."

Alfie found himself imagining her new look.

The first year together they kissed because they found comfort with each other. The second year they kissed for the same reasons but also because they wanted to. And it was almost every night.

And now… honestly he didn't need reasons. He just wanted to feel her.

He missed her.

She missed him.

While she was changing her clothes Rose realised that part of her anxiety it was because of Alfie. It wasn't just for the beginning of games, the costumes, the Arena… but him.

Last year, the last night, they slept together. Nothing sexual, just sharing the bed. They had been kissing because they had nothing better to do. Because it felt good. She was tired, so she cuddled up with him and fall asleep. The next morning she woke up with his arms around her waist.

Rose was still thinking about him like a friend. A friend she kissed on the mouth, french style.

But just a friend.

She tried not to run when she heard the train. Her electric blue dress with golden decorations followed her movements when she walked quickly towards the door.

Rose found Tigris in the hall waiting for the old mentor from district 10, a morphling woman, and her two new tributes. Rose didn't remember the name of the boy but the girl's name was Eva.

While she was waiting she saw the kid from district 2 and indeed it felt like she was looking the same boy from the previous year. Same smile, eyes and probably height, too.

Tigris was already talking with the old woman and greeted Eva and her male counterpart. Even when Rose never talked to Tigris personally, she knew it was a talented designer. And probably this year both teens were going to shine.

"Hello, hello!" Alissa captured Rose's attention with her loud voice.

There they were. There he was.

"Good morning, Alissa… Alfie."

"Good morning, Rosebeth," he greeted her using her fake name.

She smiled at him and then introduced herself to Theresa and Armand and told them about the ideas she had for them. The usual.

Another year. The sames hopes and the same fate for them, too. Alissa leaded the way to the elevator. Both kids were at her side. The other two, slightly behind them.

"You got your hair cut," Alfie commented remembering Alissa's words.

"Yes! I did!" she replied surprised that he had noticed it.

"I like it."

"Thanks, Alfie."

Alissa heard it, but avoided smile.

The Arena that year it was a desert. Rose heard the conversations about it inside the control centre. The microphone this time was inside a flowerpot she gifted to one of the gamemakers. The woman put the plant next to her desk and that was exactly what Rose was expecting.

After three years knowing him, Rose trusted Alfie but she was still scared of telling him her real reasons of why she joined the Games. She knew him and his temperament. Alfie was pure fire and the last thing she needed was him, or anyone else, interfering with her work.

The notes were hidden inside a painting that represented the Capitol. No one touched ever and since the first day it was there. Although it was obvious she was going to need a new place to keep the rest of them.

For their costumes this year she had decided to simulate a wheat field. A really long golden cape for both of the tributes that could fly in the wind with a lot of little wheat ears vertically sewed on them.

Alone in her studio, Rose was lost in her thoughts and enjoying the summer wind that entered through the open window. The background music relaxed her.

The sound of the door made her lift up her head from the clothes. She smiled.

"You shouldn't be here. It's late. And you should be sleeping to accompany the kids tomorrow."

"And I will be," Alfie replied "I'm just checking you're doing your work."

"It's that, so?" she looked at him who was sitting next to her now.

"Yes."

"Well, I'm doing my job, Alfie. And pretty well."

Rose grabbed one of the golden wheat ears and sewed it on his shirt. She was close to him and Alfie kissed her forehead.

"Don't move or I can prick you." It took her just few seconds to add the ornament to his shirt. "Now you're part of the team, too."

"I thought I was part of it from the beginning."

"But now is official."

He chuckled and finally they kissed. One more year. And they didn't have any more excuses for their actions.

The last thing Alfie wanted was to fall in love with a girl from the Capitol. But as he kissed her, Alfie realised that he lacked of words to describe that feeling.

"I missed you," she admitted.

"I missed you, too."

That was the third day in the training centre after the official presentation. Theresa was talking with the girl from district 11 and it seemed that she was teaching her about different techniques to create a trap. Armand was practicing with knives.

Rose was outside that place that was exclusive for trainers, mentors and tributes but she could see them through the windows. Next to her were other people, including Alissa and Tigris.

"Take a picture, last longer."

Alfie turned around and saw a read haired girl that he knew from being one of the mentors from District 12. Another mentor with the same luck as him. She had won the 58th games.

"Lucy."

"Hello, Alfie. If you continue staring her, you'll cause her a headache."

"I wasn't staring."

"Yes, sure." Lucy whispered to him "She's a married woman, you naughty boy. And a hell of husband she has."

"Exactly. She's a married woman means I'm not interested. Besides, this not a fucking romantic place. It's the fucking Capitol and this is the butchering season. 99% of this kids are going to die, the last thing in my mind is a married woman."

"How often do you lie to yourself?" Alfie huffed at her words, but Lucy still had things to say "people are commenting, Alfie. You're too close to her."

Alfie gritted his teeth. He whispered to her, too "she's not her fucking husband. She's not like him or any of the Capitol. How dare you to judge me when I suffered the same as you?"

"I'm not judging you, Alfie. But other people…" Lucy pointed with her green eyes to Aveline Young "Volcano girl thinks you're a fucking traitor. Tommy… I'll talk to Tommy. I spoke with Rosebeth once, she seems nice. But a lot of them suffered because of her husband. And now you're after her like a little dog. Don't blame them either. They don't know her but they do know him. And in their eyes, they are the same."

Next part.

Taglist: @call-sign-shark @peakyswritings @hoodeddreams13 @leenieweenie12 @lunarubra

#alfie solomons #alfie x rose #alfie solomons x oc #alfie solomons x ofc #hunger games au #peaky blinders #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic

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star-girl69 · 1 year

Text

Ultraviolence

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: double chapter today bc…. you’ll see… i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: swearing, mentions of guns and bullets, animal death, mentions of blood, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Eleven - This Hunger Has No End

—-

1996-

This is how we do it!

The impromptu dance parties had been happening almost every night, a way to preserve normalcy. Jackie has first suggested it, but the rest of them had all agreed and soon- they were putting a music player in bucket, making it loud enough to project across the whole cabin.

You were still eating your dinner, the venison just as good as last night, easier to savor now that there wasn’t a rolling hunger in your stomach. The deer wouldn’t last much longer, but it would last long enough, you told yourself- until you could find another thing to kill.

The girls all danced and shouted, Coach snapping as a way of clapping, and you watched them all with a smile on your face. This felt like you weren’t in the woods. And maybe that was what you all needed.

Finally, the music started winding down, the voice becoming distorted until it stopped completely.

“Goddamn it,” Van panted, pick it up from the bucket and giving it a few hits. No music. “Has hitting something ever fixed it?”

“Maybe try blowing on it,” Mari said, and Van opened the side and did just so. Nothing was heard in the cabin besides for sharp creaking from upstairs, like a footstep.

Everyone stopped and looked up at the ceiling.

“Uh, the fuck was that?” Jackie asked.

“Wait, you heard it too?” Lottie says, her eyes wide.

“It was probably just a branch,” Taissa says, her voice commanding.

Mari gives her a look. “Inside, on the floor? What if it’s… you know, him?”

“What, the dead guy?”

“Um… yeah.”

“You know what it probably was?” Nat asks. “The dead guy’s missing fingers trying to find their way home.” She smiles and everyone scolds her, and you can’t help but laugh slightly, hiding behind your hand.

“You really have to encourage them?” Tai sighs.

“You gotta admit, it didn’t sound like it was on the roof.”

“Fine. Then it was just a rat, a raccoon, or something, I don’t know, it-”

“Shh,” Lottie says sharply, suddenly cutting Jackie off. She looks towards the ceiling. “Listen.”

“Oh, my God,” Tai mutters under her breath.

Everyone looks at the ceiling, including you.

While you won’t deny that the wilderness is a weird and scary place- ghosts? An animal is much more likely.

“Well I don’t hear it now,” Mark says after a moment.

Before the girls can start arguing again, Coach Ben interrupts.

“All right, all right. You know what I think it was? I think the ghost decided it was time to get some sleep. And we should probably do the same, yeah?”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” Van spoke, holding up the music player. And slowly, like a spill of water, the girls are dispersed and moved to their beds.

—-

Hunting was what you did most these days. You, Nat, and Travis would all hike out into the woods and look around for tracks and scratches in the trees- and while sometimes you did find markers that a deer was around, you never found it.

You were ready to go, holding your stomach because of your cramps- which most of the girls were also plagued with by now.

“Jackie,” Nat said, kicking her sleeping form. She groaned. “Jackie! Up and at ‘em, or something.”

“You got it right,” you say, smiling sarcastically, and she rolls her eyes, smiling as well.

“I’m so cold,” Jackie groans, looking like a blue blanket with her brown hair spilling out on top. “And I have cramps!” she said, finally rolling over and facing the two of you.

“No shit,” Nat scoffs. “We literally all have cramps.”

“I feel like I have appendicitis and I’m not in bed.” You start walking towards the door, excited for some fresh air- wondering if it will help you. “It’s no excuse, Jackie!” you shout over your shoulder.

Natalie chuckles. “Our periods have synced up,” she says to Jackie, nudging her one more time. “C’mon.”

She follows you out of the cabin, slinging the gun over her shoulder while you slip on your backpack.

“Hey,” Akilah says when Jackie finally comes outside. “Bloody soldiers on the left, breakfast on the right. Okay? Don’t mess ‘em up like Travis did,” she smiles.

“Okay,” he says, shooting her a look. “You guys are disgusting. I’m just-” he makes a gagging sound, and Akilah rolls her eyes.

“Shut up,”

—-

“Are we finally going?” Travis asks, looking at the “bloody soldiers” in disgust.

“Oh, don’t be so happy,” Natalie smiles. “Everywhere you go, the blood will follow you.”

He groans, but follows the two of you anyways, deep into the woods, looking for birds or something to shoot.

Travis goes first, resting the gun on the curve of a tree, staring at a large plain of thick shrubs, nothing comes out.

“Nothing,” he sighs after a minute, letting the gun fall.

“Ah, giving up makes sense.” She holds up the piece of paper you’ve been keeping track on. “You’re not too far behind to catch up.”

Travis is third, by a wide margin, and you can’t stop thinking about it and smiling. Even though he’s been nicer ever since that day on the plane, you can’t help but wonder how much this is hurting his ego.

“It’s not my fault your lady bloods are scaring all the prey away.”

“Wow,” you laugh, leaning down to touch the leaf of a small fern.

“You went there,” Nat says.

“Went there? I am surrounded on all sides That cabin is, like, the blood hive.” He reloads the gun.

She scoffs. “What’s the matter, Travis? Are you scared of our menses?”

“Never said that.”

She smiles, giving you her hand and helping tug you up from the ground. “Anyway, shouldn’t the smell of blood attract animals?”

“Uh, predators, maybe. But sure hunter-gatherer tribes used to make their women, like, hide in huts or whatever when they were on their periods?”

“Yeah, Travis, let’s talk about the logic of neanderthals or whatever,” you say.

“Yeah, I’m confused. Are you a zoologist or an anthropologist?”

He chuckles. “I’m pretty sure it was that so they wouldn’t ruin the hunt.”

“More like cause men needed something to blame their failures on.”

Travis looks at her and takes in a breath, turning back around towards the trees.

“Ouch. I guess that hasn’t changed.”

“Can he, like, forfeit his turn for being stupid?” Natalie smiles and wraps her arm around your waist, leaning against you, while you cross your arms, wanting to go back to the cabin.

Finally, the bird you’ve been stalking kicks up in flight. Travis fires a shot, and misses.

“Fuck,” he says, breathing heavily, and you and Natalie have to turn around to try and hide your laugh. “Whatever,” he spits, stalking off.

—-

You lay on your stomach next to Natalie, watching a small groundhog eat some leaves maybe 30 feet away.

She takes a deep breath and pulls the trigger. You shrink into yourself, expecting the sharp sound of a gunshot to come, but it doesn’t. Something clicks, and you look over to see Nat opening an empty chamber, which shouldn’t be empty.

“You cheater,” she says, turning to Travis who starts laughing, holding a bullet in his hand.

He does some weird trick you can barely even make out, and the bullet disappears from in between his fingers.

“Are you seriously doing magic right now?” you ask. “Major turn-off,” you sigh, flipping around so you’re laying on your back. You can hear Travis scoff. “Can we stay here for a minute? My stomach hurts.”

Natalie lays on her back next to you.

“Didn’t you tell Jackie that cramps are no excuse to stay in bed?”

Travis makes a gagging sound and walks away.

“Yeah, but like, this is is the woods. Not my bed.”

“Oh, okay,” she laughs. You rest in silence for another minute, you shoulder touching hers. “Appendicitis, though? Really?”

“I’m serious!” you say, drawing out the word in a groan, digging your feet into the dirt and turning your head to face her.

But she was already staring at you.

Her face is inches away from hers, the end of your noses brush, and you can feel her breath on your skin.

Her eyes are wide and bright blue, and you want to smile, to laugh and joke with her, but there’s something pulling you towards her, to just be like this.

You can hear branches rustle in the wind.

If you were to say her name, your lips would ghost across hers.

She’s been haunting you for so long, always right there, always a second too long, always thinking of her touch as soon as you had touched her.

Hunger has been something in your stomach you’re accustomed to. But this hunger, this one for her is different. It is a storm, in a way that you know it will never stop. There is no end in sight, no hope of food, of a savior.

You are starving and dying by the day, but this shaky friendship with her, that is what is barely keeping you alive.

The only savior you could possibly have is her.

And you’re in the wilderness, and you’re not stupid, and she looks and Travis and she cares about him. She dug up a dead body for him.

This is a hunger that will never stop, a violence inside of you that she could help you with, that you could share, but she won’t give it to you. She won’t ever give it to you, the girl with the gash across her face, the girl who barely speaks, the girl who is always second best even here in the wilderness.

It is never over, not when you’re too young to keep something like this, not when she is all that you have ever wanted, staying right in front of you for years.

Maybe it is the wilderness, the plane crash, but maybe it is just that you like looking at her, and you feel safe with her, and you want to hold her hand forever and wait for her.

“Guys!” Travis shouts, and you gasp and sit up, feeling stupid and embarrassed. Your mind was going to places that you wanted it to go. Not where it had to go.

“Y/N,” she whispers, reaching out for your hand, but you stand up. One of the bandages on your face comes loose.

“Sorry,” you say finally. “I-” But you can’t speak, you can’t lie to her, because you aren’t sorry.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for-” she smiles, so sweetly, like she’s watching her favorite TV show, like she’s watching the rain fall on a peaceful night.

But the thing about rain is that soon your boots will fill up with water, soon you hair will stick to your face, and soon it won’t be nice anymore- it won’t be peaceful.

But you’re violence and she’s violence, and a little more won’t hurt-

You have survived through so much together, and you can’t step forward like this just to lose her. Not here, not in the wilderness, not ever.

You are so hungry, so, so hungry, and there is no way you can ever feed it. No way you can ever make this go away. This hunger will never be over.

—-

taglist:

@sweetdayme4427 @dreaming-for-an-escape @peachydoki

#yellowjackets x reader #natalie scatorccio #natalie scatorccio x reader

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leaves-fall-down · 3 months

Text

On the Palestine subreddit there is a picture of a man who was crushed to death by what was probably a tank. He had been crushed so severely that his face and most of his body doesn't even look like a human being anymore, and everything except his arm and part of his torso was entirely red. All red. Almost all of what was once his body is red, because his internal organs and veins and body fat and everything inside him were squeezed out by a tank, by evil and oppressive people and entities who decided he should be killed. A man's body was literally flattened and crushed to death and there are people out there who want to argue he desrved it because they simply just despise all Palestinians. He was simply a man who wanted to live. He should be alive just like the other 30,000 martyrs who've been murdered should be alive.

We know what a man looks like when he's been crushed to death. We know this because the world has decided we will. We know what a man looks like when he's been crushed to death. We have people in this world who justify crushing a man to death and leaving him to rot. Pure evil. This is pure evil. There are horror stories that will never match this level of depravity. Never. A man was crushed to death. Imagine how evil and horrible the slaughters of the Nakba were if this is what we're seeing in the digital age. A man was crushed to death and left unrecognizable and rotting in the midst of the genocide of his people.

I am going to think about that man for the rest of my life. I wonder what his job was. I wonder what he did for hobbies. I wonder if he had a wife or any children. I wonder if he knew what was happening as it happened. I hope he didn't, somehow. I wonder what his name was. I wonder if he was possibly a student and if so, what he was studying. I wonder if perhaps he was actually a teenager who had his youth cut short in such an inhumane matter. I'm so horribly angry that my only knowledge of this man is a crushed body that's borderline unrecognizable, and not his name, or any of who he was when he was alive. The IOF strips Palestinians of humanity so much that even Palestinians being dead is not enough for them, they must die in the cruelest way imaginable and become unrecognizable from who they once were. Anyone defending this is just as evil as the IOF.

I hope there is an afterlife. I hope it permits you to only feel peace. I hope it restricts you from having to see the horrors of your own people, of your people being crushed to death and starved to death and bombed to death and your home destroyed. That man and every other martyr deserve that peace, if no one else with power from this evil, sick world that has forced this horror onto them will do anything to truly stop it while they're alive. How much longer can this hell go on?

#palestine #talking to the void #I despise this world

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hamspenalty · 6 months

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kill bill au?? 👀👀👀👀👀

When Max was a kid, his dad’s favorite knife bigger than his tiny forearm, he’d told him the most important thing about their job. It was simple, really. “Do not get attached. Whatever personal feelings or remorse you have gets thrown out the window. Do your job, and deal with the rest later.”

Since that day, Max had tagged along on his dad’s appointments until he was considered old enough to start taking appointments. When he was 9. He still remembers it; some angry ex-wife who’d asked Max and his dad to kill her cheating, deadbeat ex-husband. His dad had let him fire the fatal shot that ended up killing him. Quick and dirty.

He’d had nightmares about it until he was 13. The blood splatter against the wall. The way his dad had patted his back with a triumphant smile, lips curling into something sinister as he flashed his pearly whites at Max.

At 18, he’d learned all he’d needed to know. How to properly clean a toilet. How to make coffee. And how to hide a dead body.

Max stares at his target from the rooftop of some run down apartment that’s infested with rats. It stunk strongly of mold and decay, and if Max hadn’t developed such a strong stomach from seeing and smelling brain matter since the tender age of 11, he’d probably throw up.

He finishes the last of his chocolate croissant, licking the crumbs off his fingers as he looks down the scope on his rifle, zooming in a little on the man’s ugly, screwed up face as he came. Max tamps down a laugh. If only he knew what was coming.

That’s the thing about assassinating people. They usually never know what’s coming for them. One day they’re having their morning coffee, and the next they’re dead. Simple as that. It used to tear Max up inside, all those years ago, but he’s learned how to manage it, he thinks. You see something enough and it becomes normal.

He shoots next to the man’s head, narrowly avoiding his ear. The bullet grazes it, if his screams of shock are any indication. The man does exactly what Max wants him to do. He runs out of the house screaming.

“Got you,” Max whispers to himself, looking down the scope once more. Everything slows down, his back muscles tensing, his breath becoming shallow as he fires one last shot, right into his chest.

The man stops. His eyes glaze over, and he falls to his knees with a deafening crack. Max smiles, triumphant.

As he packs his things up, he wonders whether he should order Thai or Indian for dinner. He thinks about the stacks of various food menus resting in his kitchen drawer, sticking together like one happy, symbiotic machine, and settles on Indian. He’s been craving chicken tikka masala.

He sighs as he gets into his beat up, sun damaged ‘95 Honda Civic, turning on his favorite Dutch radio station. He listens to the familiar songs from his childhood while driving to his apartment, aching for his bed.

Max lives in a shoebox. He has to, though. He can’t live in a nice, expensive apartment while killing people for a living. It just doesn’t make sense. He has to stay under the radar.

So he lives in a shoebox with no heating and no central air, with loud neighbors and two stray cats that love to visit him on the fire escape. He tells everyone that he works a regular job; a security guard for some high end law firm; and pays his taxes like a good citizen. He’s golden. No one has to know that he’s been killing random people since he was a child, and that sometimes he wakes up in a panic because of it. He was mostly okay.

Max runs through the rest of his day in a haze. He says hi to his neighbors, smiling in a way he hopes is believable. He runs through the motions of calling his favorite restaurant to order his food, hoping that his voice sounds normal, and not fuzzy and distant like it does in his head.

He finishes the last of his food while watching some stupid reality TV show that was in the recommended section of the previous apartment owner’s Netflix account. She’d never logged out on the TV she’d left behind, and since Max didn’t want to risk getting found out by something as stupid as a Netflix account, he used it to his advantage.

He let himself sink into the leather of his couch, listening to the contestants argue about who to kick off the island until he fell asleep. Sometimes he likes to pretend that those people were really there with him, that it wasn’t just him and his own parasitic thoughts.

Sometimes it helped.

#kill bill au #my ficlet #wip title game

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pastel-omegas-blog · 2 years

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Yohoo, you might know me as one of the people that wanted Leon as a harem member 😅 Can I request? If that's all right?

How would the others react to MC and Leon being lovey dovey? Like, MC and Leon being happy and such

Ooooh hi💖💖

You were the one who led me to do the other au for Dearly Detested

No problem.

All art used here does not belong to me. I used a picrew to create Alvar's face claim and the rest were found on pinterest.

Others reacting to Leon being lovey dovey with s/o.

⚠️Warning ⚠️ Mentions of obsessiveness and yandere tendencies and slight sexual themes

I'll be using Leon's harem members since you didn't specify which characters.

Alvar

During one of his secret walks in the more hidden gardens of the holy temple, he spots the two omegas together by mistake.

The recessive alpha is terrified at first when he sees Leon and m/n together.

Is even even more frightened when he sees Leon looking at him with such tender eyes and placing small kisses on his cheeks and hands.

Genuinely believes that the ' devil ' inside M/N somehow managed to put a love curse on his beloved lilly

He tries to not act immediately and tries to gather 'evidence' to accuse M/N of black magic and mind control, because he truly believes Leon is under some kind of spell.

Because that has to be the only someone like Leon, who is blessed by the gods and is gifted with such a pure and kind heart would ever associate with M/N.

A man known through out the whole of Trovia as the vessel of a demon lord that fell out of the heavens. The only way someone like Leon would willing associate with a ' stained ' man like is if he was brain washed.

Is level headed most of the time. If you can ignore his stalking

He does the investigation himself so he won't draw attention towards Leon. His precious doesn't need any negative attention. After all it's not his fault that evil man brainwashed him.!

Refuses to believe that maybe Leon might actually just like the mc and does not acknowledge that he's in denial about it

Of course, because of his internal jealousy towards watching his precious treat the discarded Emperor so gently, its not before he exposes himself.

He does so, when he stalks protectively follows the two to a secret forest and watch the two of them have a sweet picnic together.

Leon is being his caring and gentle self. Feeding baked desserts and sweets to his h/c darling while peppering his face and cheeks with small kisses, a deep purr rumbling contently in the larger omega's chest as he buried his face into the other's neck. And in return to his lover's gestures M/N can't stop the giddy giggles that leave his lips as he lets Leon do whatever he wants. Letting out happy chirps in return to the other's purr.

Their scents wrap into each other creating a warm, sweet and homey scent. The sight would have made even those who had hearts made of stone melt at the cuteness of it.

But Alvar found himself growing unreasonably angry for some reason.

Blinded by rage, the snow haired man walks out from his hiding spot behind a tree. The sudden flare of harsh phermones in the air and a strong månå presence around , gives the two omegas a huge fright.

And before the recessive can even start accusing the h/c man of using black magic on his love, Alvar finds himself nearly losing his head.

The moment he stepped out of his hiding spot , a huge månå blade made of wind lunged towards him with the intent to kill.

If it wasn't for the månå shield device he probably would have been dead by now. His head removed from his body before he even knew what was going on. Yet even with his strong shield the blade still managed to penetrate his barrier and graze his cheek, giving him a small cut.

A cut that had started bleeding red.

He choose to ignore how the blade easily cut down three trees behind him like they were nothing.

He stands their shocked for a few moments. His milky white eyes wide in shock and disbelief as his mind starts running miles a second trying to process what had just happened. It's the foul scent of the formally sweet phermones and a feral growl that snaps him out of it. The harsh wave of bloodlust following after it caused a shiver of fear to go down his spine.

He looked towards the two omegas ready to face the ' devil ' omega head, because even now he still believes that the man is responsible for the attack.

Even though deep down he knows the h/c man does not have the ability to conjure månå spell his mind refuses to think of any other possibility.

Of course it had to be the s/c man who had done it. Leon was to weak hearted to even hurt a fly.

He feels his heart shatter into a million pieces when he realizes that's not the case.

Big e/c eyes filled with fear stare into his own wide eyes. Their owner going to hide himself behind the larger frame of his omegan lover , as he gripped the back of the other man's robe tightly.

M/N. The one Alvar had been condemning this whole time was the one who looked like a scared rabbit.

And for a brief moment he couldn't understand why. Because he can still feel the killing intent in the air.

It wasn't until he looked over at the person who was protectively standing guard of the h/c that he realized how wrong he had been with his early assumptions.

Leon. His pure and kind beloved was the one glaring daggers at him and snarling at his presence like an animal.

The scene he was seeing completely destroyed the image of the weak and frail lilly he had envisioned Leon to be.

The blue haired man seemed to snap out of his feral daze as he starts to spurt out apologies towards the Pope, but with how he doesn't once leave his position standing protectively in front of the h/c man Alvar can tell he doesn't mean a word he says.

If anything the look in his eyes blunty tells the alpha that he's not wanted their and he should be going back to where he belongs, but the apologies still fly out none the less

Alvar felt his blood boil at the thought of being inferior to the h/c omega. He wanted to scream at the both of them and demand to know what their relationship is! Wanted to put them in their place by telling the Saint he had a duty to remain pure to the temple and the discarded Emperor that he was supposed to remain faithful to his husband!

" oh I'm so sorry Ally... " All the anger in his vains disappeared instantly once he heard the nicknames the blue haired omega had given to him. A jolt of pleasure going down his spine when the pretty man sent him a smile.

Even though said smile didn't reach his eyes

" ...but could ask you to keep I and lords L/N's relationship a secret ? We really don't want any else to know about this. I trust you that's why I'm asking you for such a big favour "

The blue haired omega purred out his words gently, but even a fool could tell they was no meaning in them other than telling the Pope to mind his own business.

Still Alvar found himself nodding his head to the man's request.

He could never say no to his beloved.

Even if it killed him watching the man be happy with someone else.

Basil

The pink haired recessive alpha doesn't think to much of it when the pretty saint starts to visit his master in their small mansion at the far edged of the imperial palace grounds.

He even gets worried about him the first time he came asking for his h/c master, because a large part of him was so sure his lord would pour the anger of his failing marriage between him and that bastard's emperor's failing marriage onto the innocent man.

Much to his surprise M/N had received the man with a giddy smile and excitement resembling that of a pup on a suger rush. The intial shock about the whole situation wears off quick when he chalks up their meeting to political things or his lord having matters to deal with in the holy temple and they had simply sent Saint Leon as a representative.

Is also weirded out by the lack of knights and temple attendants that are meant to be following the pretty omega. Leon was the Empire's treasure and so not seeing him with guards was going to be weird and worrisome.

Again his nerves calm down when the saint tells him that his meetings with his h/c were private and all the guards would draw attention. So taking the words saint's words to heart the recessive alpha believed him without any questions. Besides now that his master was busy he could now focus trying to break his oath to that devil omega.

Once he breaks the stupid oath he would try to woo the pretty saint. He knew he wasn't as rich or influential as the other people chasing him, but Basil was sure that his love would win!

But watching from the small gap of the door leading to his master's bedroom that dream became shattered.

" M/n gripped his lover's coat for dear life as he buried his face in the larger omega's chest as an attempt to hide the red blush dusting his cheeks, stuttering out answers and letting out small whines of embarrassments at the other's teasing, but his current position wouldn't let him getting away.

Leon couldn't stop the smirk that stretched on his thin peach lips as he continued to pepper kisses on the s/c man's neck. He had the man straddling his laps, with one hand on his hips while the other was grabbing fistfuls of the smaller omega' s plump ass. Laughing softly when ever he would squeal when he groped the soft flesh tightly.

Basil watched their display of affection with wide eyes, his baby blue hues filled with disbelief and heart break.

Purple amethyst eyes darted over to directly at him spooking the knight slightly and the glare that followed behind it told him to shut his mouth.

Then the realization finally dawned on Basil that his unrealistic dream life would continue to remain that way and that if he now wanted to continue his normal life in reality he had to wake up.

If not the holy Saint would make sure he sleeps forever. "

Louis

( This is his face claim, but he has emerald green eyes )

Like Alvar he finds about the two by mistake in the hidden garden of the holy temple.

Came looking for some herbs to create a new concoction and saw the two making flower crowns under the moonlight.

The obvious loving manner with how the blue haired saint handles the discarded Emperor is Louis needs to see to know what's going on.

Unlike the first two who were in denial, louis is quick to figure out their relationship.

And unlike the first two he is the only one who visibly and verbally gets angry.

Once he sees them he's comes stopping out of his hiding place ready to tear his darling away from that dirty devil omega.

And once again unlike Alvar, he doesn't see the månå blade charging at him nor is he able to dodge the attack.

He's in half and bleeding out before he can even start a disturbance.

" Leon throws a scowl at the body. He had been quick to end the man before he caused a ruckus. So quick that M/N didn't even know what was going on. The other still innocently weaving his flower crown.

The blue haired omega clicked his tongue silently in annoyance knowing the man's sudden disappearance would cause a small ruckus on the temple grounds, but he knew that in two / three days the matter would die down.

The blond man hadn't been important to warrant any deep investigation. But this would serve as a lesson that he had to be more careful. "

Louis last thoughts would probably be wondering why he couldn't feel his legs anymore before bleeding out

Marrav

This motherfucker wouldn't be able to tell anything would be going on.

Even if Leon and M/N were to act to ' friendly ' in front of him, his dumb dominant alpha brain would chalk it up to M/N trying to gain his favor by becoming friends with Leon.

Like these two can get away with doing small pda gestures and he wouldn't think anything of it other than be possessive of the blue haired omega.

The only annoying thing would be him snatching Leon away from the M/N so the he and the pretty saint can be alone.

And unlike the others who found out by mistake Marrav would be completely left in the dark, because he fully believes that M/N is still stupidly in love with him and he's absolutely sure that Leon loves him and would never betray him.

Even if he's siblings and mother voice their concern on the twos closeness he would simply brush it off without thinking on the matter.

When things are too late is when he laments to himself that he probably should have listened.

" The former dominant alpha Emperor who was feared around the whole of ira, had been reduced to a malnourished sack of bones. His once inky long black locks had been messily chopped and was dirty. His body reeked of feces and foul sewage water. If he had known things would turn out like this he would have acted quickly in the signs.

His hazy silver eyes looked up to stare at the imposter sitting on his throne.

Leon out of his Saint uniform was cladded in clothing and jewelry meant for an Emperor. The sweet smile that Marrav had fallen in love with was gone from his face and what replaced it was a cocky smirk.

Sitting on his thighs was Marrav's ex-husband M/N ,who was dressed and dolled up in the prettiest clothing and jewelry that accentuated the h/c man's beauty and showed off his pretty body.

The disgraced Emperor watched with regret as the blue haired omega nuzzled the s/c man's cheeks, before bringing his lips closer to meet his in sensual kiss.

Leon glanced at Marrav while he did this, his purple eyes lightning up when he noticed the anger shaking off the alpha's pathetic form.

Marrav wanted to scream and curse the Saint- NO!!. The man was no saint.

He was a blue haired devil that had bewitched his innocent M/N

But his dehydrated throat wouldn't let him. The anger that had been fuming in his body disappeared and he felt the weakness of his malnourished body mock him.

The last thing he remembered hearing before passing out was Leon ordering his execution.

If only he had loved his husband and treated him right then the misfortune he was going through would have been avoided ".

#omegaverse #mc #nobility #omega male reader #dearly detested #Alvar #Basil #Louis #Marrav #x male reader #x omega male reader #Leon #moonlit #ask

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biggerbetterbat · 7 months

Text

[26] OLD MCDONALD HAD A FARM

Daryl Dixon x OC!Charlie Reed

Summary: Good days on the farm are over. The group has to decide whether they can trust Rick and do they even want to stay together.

Warnings: language, death

Song: Everybody Dies Billie Eilish

A/N: Hello ;) WE'RE OVER FARM DAYS! I can't wait to traumatize Charlie even more!!! SPOILER: From now on it's going to be just worse and worse. Also, I don't know when the next chapter will be posted - probably next Monday, but idk for sure. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter and I wait for your comments and likes.

"Rick and Shane ain't back?" was the first thing Daryl said as they entered the farmhouse. Everyone turned to them with curious glances.

"No."

"We heard a shot." shaking Lori walked up to Dixon.

"Maybe they found Randall," said Andrea, probably trying to calm the other woman down.

"We found him," said Charlie, furrowing her brows.

"Is he back in the shed?"

"He's back to being dead." Reed snorted as leaned on a frame. She saw how people furrowed their eyebrows, not knowing what had happened in the darkness of the woods, just moments before. For them, Randall was still alive."He's a walker."

"Did you find the walker that bit him?" Hershel asked.

"No, the weird thing is he wasn't bit," Glenn said.

"His neck was broken," Daryl added.

"So he fought back."

"The thing is, Shane and Randall's tracks were right on top of each other," Charlie said.

"And Shane ain't no tracker, so he didn't come up behind him. They were together." Daryl ended her deduction.

"Would you please get back out there, find Rick and Shane, and find out what on Earth is going on?" Lori almost begged Daryl.

She was shaking and her face was showing worry, new information probably made her even more nervous. Obviously, they were all confused about the whole situation, but it was her husband out there in the dark. Daryl had no other choice, but to nod. "You got it."

Reed wanted to go with him and help, this way would be quicker. Besides if Shane really lied to them, if he let Randall out just to kill him almost right away...there was a big problem. He had to plan all of this and that was probably the most concerning thing.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked as she saw people just standing outside on the porch. She passed them and stopped in her tracks as she saw the most terrifying picture. "Oh...shit."

"Patricia, kill the lights," Hershel ordered.

"I'll get the guns," said Andrea.

There were probably hundreds of walkers coming right at them. Charlie was sure that she peed her pants, because how the fuck they are supposed to fight them? Another question was: where they all were coming from?

"Maybe they are just passing, like a herd on the highway," Glenn asked, looking up to Daryl. "Should we just go inside?"

"No unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about," he said examining the herd of the dead and then looked at him. "A herd that size would rip the house down."

Then of course something happened and complicated things even more. Lori ran on the porch breathlessly." Carl's gone. He...he was upstairs." she breathed out. "I can't find him anymore."

"Maybe he's hiding."

"He's supposed to be upstairs," Lori said angrily. "I'm not leaving without my boy."

"We're not," Carol said and took her hands in hers to calm her down and show her support. "We're gonna look again. We're gonna find him."

Charlie rolled her eyes. How would it be any different? The thing with that kid was that he should have a guard or a band around his ankle, so he would be easy to track. Lori should watch him 24/7 even when he was asleep.

"I got the number...it's no use," said Daryl, when he saw that Andrea came back on the porch with guns and bullets, handing everyone something.

"You can go if you want." the old man said, ignoring his skepticism.

"Wait. Do you want to stay? Like...here?" Charlie asked. "You gonna take them all on?"

"We have guns. We have cars."

"Kill as many as we can, and we'll use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm." Andrea nodded.

"Are you serious?" Daryl asked.

"This is my farm," Hershel said straightening his back. "I'll die here."

And yet again there were two options. One: go and fight. Second: run. But if she ran and left those people who helped her and she considered them friends, she would be just heartless and ungrateful. So there was just one option: don't die. She kneeled and started loading up her gun, making sure she would have bullets even in her pockets.

"Charlie?" Daryl asked as he saw her squatting.

"This is not my farm and I won't die here," she answered him, straightening and looking him in the eyes. "Because we will fight."

"All right." he nodded as if her firm eyes convinced him immediately. "It's as good a night as any."

It was chaos. The barn was suddenly set on fire, all they could hear were screams, gun sounds, and this horrible snarling that was making her hands shake. Living were mixing with the dead, so Charlie couldn't really tell if the body she was pointing was really the one she should have. Walkers were coming from the ground that's what it seemed. She was shooting them with Hershel, but there were too many, for one killed there were immediately four in its place.

"Come on!" Hershel was screaming, encouraging Walkers to come and get him.

"Where's Lori? Did you see Lori?" she heard a male voice after a shot that killed a Walker that was right behind her.

"I don't know what happened, Rick." Hershel was trying to explain. "They just keep coming. It's like a plague. They're everywhere."

"Lori!" he screamed. "Did you see her?"

"No!"

She looked back at from where the herd was coming and didn't like the really short distance that Wakers was from them."There's no time for this!" Charlie said. "We have to go!"

"Find Lori and the others." Rick nodded and killed a couple of Walkers.

"It's my farm!" Hershel protested.

"Not anymore!"

She didn't feel safe on the highway as so many bad things had happened in this exact place. Nothing really changed here even though everything had changed. They were on a farm for a week, but in times like the one they lived in it seemed forever. Charlie saw the car with supplies for Sophia and almost vanished writing Sophia stay here on the front window. Besides those nostalgic memories, the highway was too close to the farm.

"Well, where's mom?" her attention turned to Carl as he asked. "You said she would be here. We gotta go back for her."

"Carl..."

"No," he protested. "Why are we running? What are you doing? It's...it's Mom. We need to get her and not be safe a mile away."

"Shh. You need to be quiet, all right? Please."

"Please...It's Mom." a boy tried to convince his dad.

"Look, Carl, listen..."

She was looking at angry Carl walking away from them. Rick looked at her and she just shrugged with her shoulders not knowing what he expected from her. He saved her ass as well Hershel's, but there was no possibility that she would be running after somebody's son- it was not her job. There was tension between them since their talk back on the farm, so her being stuck with Grimes was kind of ironic. Charlie didn't have to say she was grateful, it was obvious. Let's not even begin why they were in this place to begin with...

"Rick." Hershel captured their attention. "You've got to get your boy to safety. I'll wait here for my girls and the others. I know a few places. We'll meet up at one of them later."

"Where?" Charlie snapped. "Where is safe?"

"We're not splitting up," Rick said in a firm tone, ignoring her question.

"Please. Keep your boy safe." Hershel said. "I'll hide in one of the cars. If a walker gets me, so be it. I've lost my farm. I've lost my wife and maybe my daughters."

"You don't know that." Rick spat. "They'll be here."

"And you don't know that." Charlie rolled her eyes at Grimes.

"I know, Charlie. You're a man of God, Hershel." he snapped at the older man. "Have some faith."

God...

Was it even right to talk about Him in a time like this? It felt wrong that He would have let anything like that happen, considering the belief that there's an afterlife. Charlie never thought about this before and now that she did it even more made her stick to the belief that it was pointless to waste time.

"I can't profess to understand God's plan, but Christ promised the resurrection of the dead," Hershel said. "I just thought he had something a little different in mind."

"We stick together," Rick said a little less harshly, looking at Charlie and then at Hershel.

When he saw Rick and Hershel, he felt that a heavy stone just dropped from his heart. He could stop worrying about everyone he had under his wings and just come back to being...well, no one really. It felt good to see that Carl was alright and his reuniting with Lori was something he wished Carol had back on the farm.

"Where'd you find everyone?" asked Rick.

"Well, those guys' tail lights zigzagging all over the road..." he pointed at Glenn. "Figured he had to be Asian, driving like that."

"Good one." Glenn nodded and chuckled.

Daryl looked around, looking for a girl that should be here already, hugging her best friend. Charlie was nowhere to be seen though. She wasn't near Greenes, she wasn't with Glenn, and he couldn't even see her scoffing face, leaning on one of the cars. "Where's the rest of us?"

"We're the only ones who made it so far," said Rick cluelessly.

His heart dropped and he felt the urge to throw up. Did they leave Charlie on the farm and let her die? No...she was a fighter. She definitely was alive somewhere...Was she? She expressed her want to die, so maybe she just got overwhelmed but the herd and gave up. That thought just made his knees weak.

"Shane?" asked Lori, but her face fell as Rick shook his head.

"Andrea?"

"Andrea saved me, then I lost her," Carol said.

"We saw her go down," added T-Dog.

"Patricia?" asked Hershel.

"They got her too," the blond girl who tried to kill herself said. "Took her right in front of me. I was...I was holding onto her, Daddy." she cried. "What about Jimmy?"

"He was in the RV. It got overrun." Rick said.

"You definitely saw Andrea?" Carol asked.

"There were Walkers everywhere," Lori said.

"But did you see her?"

Daryl didn't want to think about what had happened to Charlie and that's why he didn't ask. He didn't see her here, so it was obvious she was dead, but there still was the smallest hope that she was on the farm. She was a hard one, she was probably hiding somewhere, just waiting for Walkers to pass by. "I'm gonna go back."

"No," Rick said.

"We can't just leave her," Daryl said, but by her he meant Charlie.

"We don't even know if she's there."

"She isn't. She's somewhere else or she's dead." Rick answered. "There's no way to find her."

"So we're not even gonna look for her?" Glenn asked.

"We gotta keep moving," Rick said. "There have been walkers crawling all over here."

To confirm those words Daryl shot a Walker that was snarling, slowly coming towards them.

"Charlie. And where's Charlie? Where is she?" Glenn asked frantically as if remembering that she wasn't around. "If she's on the farm, we have to go back. I won't leave Charlie."

Daryl wanted to nod his head and just go back to the farm. There was no way he would leave her either. She was the only good thing that was left in his life and he knew that, he was sure of that. From the moment he met her, Charlie was the first person who didn't look at him as if he was a bad person - even though at the beginning he was and he knew that she probably thought so.

"Charlie's okay," said Rick. "She walked that way."

"And how's that okay?!" Glenn asked with anger. "This place is full of Walkers you said it yourself !"

"That's why we have to stay off the main roads," said Daryl, getting ready to follow Charlie. "The bigger the road, the more walkers," he said. "I go get Charlie and we can go."

Glenn was looking at him stunned because he was still surprised that something was behind him and he wasn't prepared for Daryl just informing everyone that he would be the one to look for Charlie.

He saw her almost immediately after he passed Hershel and his daughters. But he fastened his steps as he heard her scream and right after that she was stabbing some girl on the billboard in the face. Daryl had to really come close to realize that the girl was what he supposed would be her before. In the photo she was wearing makeup, her nails were in a red color, she was wearing a tight dress and there was a lot of shiny jewelry on her. The only thing that stayed the same was her smile- which in the photo seemed a little fake.

"Hey, hey, hey." she heard and then she felt a strong pair of arms around her, gripping her tightly. "Shh."

She heard his motorcycle and something like Glenn's voice, and her first thought was to just get up and run toward them, but then she realized that she would have to face the fact of who was left on the farm. She would have to see who's not that lucky and died. But she didn't expect Daryl to be the one to look for her and hug her as tight as he was right now.

"It's all right," he said, bringing her down to the ground. "It's all fine now."

"Nothing is fine!" she screamed trying to push him away. "All those people are dead! The farm is gone! Winter is coming and we have no place to stay, no supplies! How is it fine?!

"Hey. Shhh. We're alive." he tried to calm her down.

"And that's the problem." she said."You see her?"

Daryl looked up.

"She's a dumb bitch that was worried about fucking gluten!" she yelled. "She got her family killed! She got a lot of people killed because she lied to them! And she's a dumb fucking bitch that can't even die!"

Daryl hugged her. He wanted to take all of her pain like a sponge, so she wouldn't feel so miserable anymore. She blamed herself for everything that had happened as if there was a force that wanted to punish her for past mistakes. He couldn't care less about what she was saying about killing her family and some people, because in that moment he just wished she could see herself through his eyes.

The car stopped and Rick was out of it, anger radiating through all pores of his skin. Shortly everyone was leaving their vehicles in the middle of the road that was in the middle of nowhere. They were in the woods, not safer one bit than they were on the highway. Daryl looked back at the former cop from his motorcycle."You out?"

"Running on fumes."

"We can't stay here," Maggie said.

"We can't fit in one car." Glenn shook his head.

"We'll have to make a run for some gas in the morning," Rick announced.

"Spend the night here?" Carol furrowed her brows, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her body.

"I'm freezing," Carl said, shaking.

Rick was already on the way, taking his jacket off, while Lori was rubbing her son's arm."We'll build the fire, yeah?"

"You go out looking for firewood, stay close," said Daryl. "Only got so many arrows. How are you doing on ammo?"

"Not enough." answered angry Rick.

Something felt off with Grimes. When they all met him, he was officer-friendly and now he was just different. Rick was their rock. He was calm and always was ready to listen to their problems. He was probably tired, cold, and hungry, but they all were, so the reason must have been different. Charlie could sense that any question would end up with a snappy answer in an angry voice.

"We can't just sit here with our asses hanging out," commented Maggie.

"Watch your mouth." Hershel scolded her. "Everybody stop panicking and listen to Rick."

"All right, we'll set up a perimeter," Rick said. "In the morning, we'll find has and some supplies. We'll keep pushing on."

"Glenn and I can go make a run now, try to scrounge up some gas," announced Maggie.

"No, we stay together." he protested. "God forbid something happens and people get stranded without a car."

"Rick, we're stranded now." Glenn tried to reason.

"I know it looks bad, we've been through hell and worse, but at least we found each other," he said. "I wasn't sure...I really wasn't...But we did. We're together. We keep it that way." he looked around at everyone's faces and then he tightened his teeth. "We'll find shelter somewhere. There's gotta be a place."

"Rick, look around. Okay?" Rhee stepped to Grimes. "There's walkers everywhere. They're migrating or something."

"There's gotta be a place not just where we hole up, but that we fortify, hunker down, pull ourselves together, build a life for each other," he said with a much more nervous tone, trying to persuade Glenn. "I know it's out there. We just have to find it!"

"Even if we do find a place and we think it's safe, we can never be sure. For how long?" Charlie asked. Even though she completely agreed with Grimes about staying together, she had to say what she was thinking. "The quarry. The CDC. Look what happened with the farm. We fooled ourselves into thinking that that was safe."

"We won't make that mistake again." Hershel tried to calm the situation down.

But Rick seemed not even listening to her words as he pointed to some walls near them. "We'll make camp tonight over there, get on the road at the break of day."

"What if Walkers come through, or another group like Randall's?" asked scared Beth.

Charlie felt a pair of eyes on her, so she looked up and was met with Daryl's blue ones. She nodded her head slightly, encouraging him to ask the question. "You know we found Randall, right?

"He had turned, but he wasn't bit," Charlie said and saw how Rick was looking down, turning his head away.

"How's that possible?" Beth asked.

"Rick, what the hell happened?" Lori furrowed her eyebrows.

"Shane killed Randall," Daryl answered her as Rick was still quiet.

"Just like he always wanted to, right?" Charlie raised her brow.

"And then the herd got him?" Lori asked her husband, expecting whatever explanation he had.

Charlie was looking at him, like everyone right now. He was thinking hard about his answer, weighing words, so he wouldn't say something that wouldn't be right. He was thinking so intensely, that a wrinkle was created between his brows. "We're all infected."

Bomb.

Just bomb. He dropped the strongest artillery he owned in the least favorable moment. They lost people, they lost place to stay and now they were all carrying the virus? Charlie wanted to sit and cry at this point because the day was getting harder and harder.

"What?" Daryl asked.

"At the CDC, Jenner told me," he said. "Whatever it is, we all carry it."

"And you never said anything?" Carol said.

"Would it have made a difference?" Rick asked.

"You knew this whole time?" Glenn asked.

"How could I have known for sure?" he turned to the Asian, pointing a finger. "You saw how crazy that mo..."

"This isn't your call." Rhee interrupted him. "Okay, when I found out about the walkers in the barn, I told, for the good of everyone."

"Well, I thought it best that people didn't know."

It was the coldest she was in forever. A small fire was doing nothing, but they had to keep the fire low. Charlie wanted to be alone, not that she had anyone to sit with. Glenn was sitting next to Maggie and Hershel, who was hugging Beth. Carol was with Daryl and Lori was rubbing her son's back. Most of them were planning on leaving Rick because they thought he was their worst enemy now. Even Lori was mad at him for something.

What was Charlie thinking? She was with Daryl - or at least she agreed with what he said to Carol. Rick was an honorable man, who pulled them out of the deepest shit. Even though he was different lately and something was clearly bothering him, she would stay with Grimes. From the very beginning, he was doing whatever he could to protect them. He was running around trying to find Sophia, he was trying to convince Hershel to let them stay. So even though she was feeling reserved towards him, she wouldn't leave just because he made a decision for them.

"What was that?" Beth asked as they all heard rustling nearby.

"Could be anything," Daryl answered, getting up. "Could be a raccoon, could be a possum."

"Walker." Glenn furrowed his eyebrows.

"We need to leave." Carol panicked, looking around. "What are we waiting for?"

"Which way?" Glenn nodded.

"It came from over there," said Maggie, her gun ready. "Back from where we came."

"The last thing we need is for everyone to be running off in the dark," said Charlie, who was still sitting in her place, near the fire. "We don't have the vehicles. No one's traveling on foot."

"Don't panic." Hershel nodded.

"I'm not sitting here, waiting for another herd to blow through," answered Maggie, turning to Rick. "We need to move, now."

"No one is going anywhere." the cop said in a stern voice.

"Do something," Carol said.

"I am doing something!" he snapped at her. "I'm keeping this group together, alive! I've been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn't ask for this! I killed my best friend for you people, for Christ's sake!" he yelled and Charlie looked up at him and stood up. She didn't feel sad or devastated, she was just shocked and in awe that he did this. It was unexpected and it felt strange that he was no longer with them. "You saw what he was like, how he pushed me, how he compromised us, how he threatened us. He staged the whole Randall thing and led me out to put a bullet in my back. He gave me no choice. He was my friend, but he came after me. My hands are clean." he tried to explain himself. "Maybe you people are better off without me. Go ahead. I say there's a place for us, but maybe...maybe it's another pipe dream. Maybe...maybe I'm fooling myself again. Why don't you...why don't you go and find out yourself? Send me a postcard! Go on, there's the door. You can do better? Let's see how far you get." he said, but there was no answer to his words. People seemed to be afraid to breathe. "No takers? Fine. But get one thing straight...You're staying...this isn't a democracy anymore."

After Rick walked away, she sat back down and wrapped her arms around her knees that were up to her chin. That way she wanted to keep herself warm and stop the waves of cold shaking her body. It was an intense night and day, but she couldn't sleep, too afraid to close her eyes. She tried to make up her mind, everything that happened was still chaos in her head.

"Amy...Jim...Jacquie...Sophia..." she whispered, thinking who was gone next. "Shane...Jimmy...Patricia...Andrea. Amy, Jim, Jacquie...Sophia, Shane, Jimmy, Patricia, Andrea. Amy, Jim, Jacquie, Sophia..."

"What are you doing?" Daryl asked and he sat up.

"I can't sleep," she whispered.

"You cold?" he asked as he saw a shiver running down her body. Daryl stood up and quietly he closed the distance between them. He sat down and then as if testing the waters he placed his hand on her arm, bringing her closer. A shiver ran through his body when he felt her body in his arms. It was comfortable to just have her like this in his embrace, keeping her warm and making sure she was okay. "Better?"

"Yes." she nodded her head, feeling her body warming just a little. Even though she wanted to just melt into him and fall asleep as she felt calm, she was making sure her body was still. "I'm sorry. That you had to calm me down. It's embarrassing."

"You don't have to be sorry," he answered.

"You probably think I'm crazy."

"I don't think you're crazy," Daryl said. "You're just a person. You're not a robot and you have a heart. It's okay to cry." he said.

"Do you cry?"

"Sometimes," he said. "Well...not recently. But good people cry."

"You don't know me, Daryl."

"I know you enough," he said. "I saw how worried you were about Sophia. I saw how hard you tried to convince Hershel to let us stay when you found out that Lori was pregnant. You were really concerned about this girl's life. And...you were worried when I got shot, not letting Andrea forget it when I'm not even worth being worried about. That's how good people do."

He looked down as he felt her head in his neck. She had her eyes closed and her breathing was regular. Her whole body weight was now on him, he sighed and pulled her closer, keeping her warm and feeling relieved that she still was here with him.

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#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon series #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl the walking dead #daryl twd #daryl x reader #katniss everdeen gif

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summertimemusician · 8 months

Text

Linktober Shadow Day 5

Master Kohga

*slams this down* LATE AND WITH ONE HECK OF A HEADACHE BUT I MADE IT!

Also I feel like we also need to talk about that the reason the Yiga are such doofuses usually is because they're riding the high of a full 100 years victory, and that after getting throughly kicked in the ribs they're probably gonna commit more crimes and probably return to their even more brutal roots actually, Kogah probably being the most likely one to shift to that first.

This goes out to you Warriors fans and simps, because ooh boy is he a delight to write, I think the duality of his name and status as a soldier is neat even if he's not my favorite Link.

Though the regular Linktober one will have to wait after I'm a bit more rested though so either later today or tomorrow, sorry folks.

Also uh warnings ahead?

TW:

Some descriptions of violence, specifically wrist targeted violence, kidnapping, and Reader going a little feral in defense of Warriors, nothing too big, but as this is coming from a horror fan I advise anyone who is squeamish to skip this one.

On a scale of one to ten of intimidation wrought by enemies of the Chain has faced, you’re pretty sure Kohga and the Yiga wouldn’t make even a negative ten on a normal day.

You’re not sure if it’s due to Wild’s most blase attitude about having a literal clan of traitorous, murderous Sheikah at him, a mix of bafflingly phlegmatic and elated with amused delight when talking about schemes you’d more associate to slapstick comedy than anything, the way you’ve seen any Yiga members dive for any throw bananas like a starving Wolfos pack on a lone Stalfos even if there was a cliff right in front of them with even more single minded determination than what was given to their mission, the way he’d refer to them as “Look they’re technically insane menaces to polite society out for mine and Flora’s blood, but they’re our technically insane menaces to polite society out for our blood” with a mix of bemusement and amusement or a mix of all three but according to the resident cook they truly weren’t a threat compared to, say, the cultists of Hyrule’s time whose sole goal wasn’t even to kill him but simply make him bleed, or Majora whom indirectly inflicted endless torture on Time, or Demise who literally started the cycle all of your heroes inevitably went through (because you could never blame Sky, none of you would even if it took shaking the notion into his thick skull). And they’ve apparently gone even more docile and to ground after Wild had defeated their master.

“And THEN he apparently has the nerve to go through our base and raid our banana supply! The nerve of that pesky, insistently annoying pest- Hey, are you even listening?” The sudden call made you jump, hissing as your wrist restraints dug into your skin, because apparently shackles with spikes on the inside of them are a thing and you very much would not have liked the approximate feeling of barbed wire wedged into your skin, biting into your flesh with all the viciousness and brutality that ensured you wouldn’t move your hands without feeling agony, the tone indignant as the presumably dead man stomped his foot nearby, “This is serious! First he peels me and my clan members like a banana, greatly exaggerates the rumor of my death and then THIS?!”

You school your features, trying really, really hard not to act out again as it comes down dangerously close onto Warrior’s unconscious head. Nodding along with the seriousness and solemnity worthy of a funeral, “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Such disrespect, at least you guys didn’t exaggerate about his death. And you’re supposed to be the bad guys here?”

(Well, more like you couldn’t move, really, funny thing about spikes on one’s skin and having one of your legs broken to the point glancing at exposed bone makes you want to dry heave at the gory sight, it.is.agony. Funny, how pain is an effective restraint in keeping people pinned down better than any arrow.)

You quickly revised your opinion and reassess the threat given the situation you're in now, as after your patrol on Wild’s Hyrule with Warriors you’d gotten ambushed and kidnapped through a mix of a double Silver Lynel ambush and sheer element of the surprise as bait, Warriors going down protecting you with all of the ferocity of his namesake, and choosing to risk getting a little roughed up over being separated from him.

You’re quite proud of yourself really, what with the way that you almost fully tore a chunk out of a Blademaster’s throat with your teeth and before they gave up, leg broken and with the spikes on your wrist as you woke up first with the fury of Volvagia’s fire scorching your veins, overwhelming the icy chill of terror in your veins and only instinct driving you because who knows what they’d done to him. Worth it. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you let something happen to your favorite soldier boy. At least now you’re both in the same place, even if it’s with the man running the doomsday show himself.

“I know right?! Once I get my hands on that little nuisance, I am going to kill him dead!”

It’s a bit of a pity, in a way. You’re sure that under better circumstances you’d be as amused as Wild by him and he’d be a lovely conversation partner, you doubt the Yiga would follow him if he wasn’t charismatic after all, like watching a wet cat get their head stuck in a jar you had to admit watching the man struggle and fail was just a bit hilarious.

Alas by the whims of the gods spinning the wheel of fate and making it be fully comprised of misfortune to the point you really would like to have a nice chat involving your fists and their faces and maybe one foot straight up Hylia's gash, twas not to be, but it works in your favor. You just needed to stall for as long as you could until Warriors woke up or had an opening stop feigning sleep, either works.

“I just had a thought, a truly magnificent idea worthy of someone as worthy of being the Calamity’s most trusted champion! You travel with that twerp and his companions don’t you?”, the man stilled, then swerved towards you, you contained a flinch in a sudden movement, just on the edge of cartoony, adamantly looking over his shoulder rather than the twisted, crimson eye of the cold mask of the leader of the people who joked about keeping one of Warriors’ eyes as a necklace for it worked just as well as gem, “You could work for us instead, we’d pay you quite well for the information.”

Adamantly trying not to look at Warrior’s behind him, you hummed, head tilted, pretending to think about it, then shrugging, “Eh, I’ll pass. You Yiga don’t take well to traitors no?”

The man crossed his arms, adamantly nodding, “Of course not! Any and all who forsake our god should be slowly watch as their body parts are fed to Moldugas while they’re still alive!”

Cool, cool, lovely imagery to have, you were going to have one serious talk with Wild about proper threat assement once you’re back in camp by the way. You smile a bit back, remembering Warrior’s and using it as a reason to force a grimace away. Of the way he could charm better than any prince, making people fall in love with him effortlessly for better or worse and how you or Legend would viciously defend him from the worse crowd even if it gave you both Time’s exasperation (and grief from the other Links, who are all menaces whom you wished were less perceptive at times). Of the way he amusedly shared with you he main advantage was that no one could ever tell wether he was being friendly or baring his teeth, and how he slowly let you notice wether the curve was sharp or soft as you got closer. Making a point of showing your bloody, bloody teeth from both the Blademaster and which dripped down your head from one heck of a Lynel kick, you did not have Warriors natural charisma but you’d make do with your mediocre charm. “Well, I’m not in the habit of liking traitors much either you see. Sorry to let you down on that, plus if I can turn on them I can turn on you right? Better we skip that, I can give you a banana cake and banana pretzel recipe from where I’m from as compensation though?”

(You did not, in fact, know a recipe for banana cakes and pretzels by the way, but at this point you'll say anything just to buy you more time. Nothing like the age old ancient technique of lying. Wars would be proud his lessons came in handy.)

To his credit, he didn’t flinch. You’d actually be a bit shocked if he did given his clans entire gimmick to be fair. Sliding away from Warrior’s prone form and towards the one actually open door, keeping his back to the soldier, although his attention immediately focused on you like a Guardians aim, completely missing the light twitch to Warriors’ fingers you could spot in the dim torch light, “Fair enough, though you’re missing out on a lot if you ask me. Now! Banana cake you say? Might you be a person of culture after all even with an horrendous choice of company?”

Would you look at that, looking like a horror show does have it’s advantages!

“I mean I’d write it down but you know,”, you make a vague motion with your wrists, wincing a bit at the spikes, those would be a pain to get out later, you’d much have preferred ropes or chains, “But if you get some paper or get me to a kitchen I can direct your folks how to make it? You’d be the first to get a taste of it if you’re there too.”

He hums, pacing back and forth, Warriors eyes lightly crack open, the sapphire clouding with shock at your state, you can’t look at him long enough to figure out the ensuing combination of emotions, flashing, but you do see when the gems are forged into cobalt blades, you quickly mouth to him ‘Get free’ as soon as Kohga isn’t looking at you, he closes his eyes as Kohga turns towards him and nods. Though the Poe flame azure of his gaze could have probably killed the leader of the Yiga ten times over as he addresses you, “You’re an awfully generous hostage aren’t you? Though I like the way you think.”

You shrug, “I mean I’m not being manhandled, plus I’m bored so why not make some good food to kill time?”

You can see him weight his options, unnervingly staring at you beneath the mask. You adamantly don’t look at Warriors’ as he slides his boot very lightly against the wall, a small blade springing from the small compartment, thanking the Three the Yiga didn’t check either of your shoes as he twists around as silently as he can manage to cut himself free as Kogah nods, “Anyone with an appreciation for bananas should be allowed to share their wisdom, can you walk?”

You give him a flat look, you think Warriors bites his tongue to keep from making an equally indignant sound as Kohga seems to have the dots, awkwardly coughing, “That was a retorical question of course you can’t! I shall however extend you my benevolence, and call on my subordinates to carry you-“

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence when Warriors pounces with a snarl, you lurch back, hissing as the spikes make your wrists bleed and chocking down a shout at the pain that crawls through your leg like lightning, but it’s enough.

Warriors wraps the remains of his rope around the Yiga Clan Leader’s throat in a makeshift garrote, and make sure to use his momentum to slam his head against the cold, hard ground of the hideout, doing it again for good measure with all of the strength and ferocity you knew for a fact he kept as well sheathed as a hidden blade.

It all took but a second, he didn’t even scream. You doubt that killed him, but he isn’t getting back up any time soon.

You slump over, coughing blood from your mouth, it wouldn't help much but it was a start, “Welcome back to the land of the living, Wars.”

He rushes towards you as soon as he finishes tying Kohga up with the remnants of his own rope, gently wiping the blood from your sight, he was battered and bruised but the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life as he checked you over, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, relief ringing like a sword being sheathed, it would be alright. “Can’t say I’m happy to be fashionably late this time. What did they do to you?”

“Hey, none of that,” you gently touch your foreheads together, you smile, tasting rust on your lips though Warriors doesn’t mind as you lightly try to take his mind out of it, “You should see the other guy.”

He sighs, fondly exasperated as he shakes his head, you consider the quirk of his lips a win even as he pauses over your wrists, eyes flashing with rage before focusing on your leg, “I’m sure, that was a killer performance. Maybe after all this is over you should take up acting back home.”

You snort, “I mean I did learn from the best-“

it distracts you long enough for him to snap your leg back into place. And all you know is that you with pain, ripping through your throat as you finally, finally, feel safe enough to pass out.

(Warriors winces sympathetically, heart breaking a little at your pain but knowing it was the only way you wouldn’t focus on it, better than for . Holding you close and allowing you to muffle your scream into his shoulder as he wraps your leg in his scarf, guilty and fury carefully hidden behind the soldier mask, knowing that the only thing that would satisfy the flames of retribution in his chest would be to use the Yiga as kindling until they eventually burned the remnants of protective rage all away to ash.

But he could make do with taking you as gently as he could as you pass out in his arms, resolve himself to get the contraption on your wrists out as soon as you were both back at camp. And to kicking Kogah on the way out. It's not nearly enough but it's a start.

You protected him as best as you could, it’s his turn to return the favor as he can as well. Anything else can come later.)

#linked universe x reader #linked universe warriors x reader #out of all the links I wouldn't like to see angry I'd say Warriors is definitely right up there because he has such keen self control #that when he does get angry he's more vicious than almost all of them combined #he's seen some stuff in the war and likely is holding in just as much as Time Wild and Sky #so out of the Chain he's probably the best liar and the one who can hold his emotions in the most effectively #because when he does need to eviscerate someone he's unleashing all of his focused fury on them #plus it helps him multitask on the well being of his comrades better as well as on the mission #aka in this house we appreciate Warriors for managing to strike the duality of perfect prince #and protective soldier that does what needs to be done and will make it so not even his enemies dental records help identify their bodies #it's a fine line but the man can work it you can't share your soul with someone who was loved by a god killed a god #became a vessel for a good has a beast in their soul and was marked by many realms and live through a war your existence caused #and not be just a little feral methinks. helps that Reader also is a little feral and gets it when in survival mode lol #summer writes linktober shadow 2023 #summer writes #Warriors can feign sleep really well and always has knives on his boots due to the traitor purge in the war of eras #I have many thoughts on the Yiga Clan but not enough energy to dwelve into them all today sadly

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