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dadsbongos · 4 months

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dog and rabbit

9.5 k words / summary - When your party is locked into a stuck trap, you and Laios are the only ones who can bare each other. You both want to be consumed, one literally, and know that only the other can fulfill your desire.

warnings - reader with she/her pronouns, cannibalism as a metaphor for love/cannibalistic thoughts and imagery, fully romantic but no upfront confession, allusions to spoilers but everyone should be safe to read, reader has ego issues and parental issues, laios and reader are both FREAKS, starvation as a plot device

~~~

pt 1 - dog eat rabbit

Mama’s hands are crusted with drying mud, dirt flakes up her bare arms as she smooths a lumpy plot. She’s knelt down, across from her is Papa, and beside Papa is his dog -- tail wagging and mouth dangling open to pant, pant, pant. Between them all is the small rectangular grave Mama just finished pampering. A thin stick sits up straight from the head of the filled hole. You stand at the other end, staring at Papa’s dog with ambivalence.

You wanted to sanitize her vibrant scratches and swelling bite marks, and you wanted her scrapes to get infected. You hoped she would recover to her yippy self soon, and you prayed the mounting limp from her front right paw was permanent. You’d be devastated if she died of her injuries, and you’d find the death to be just.

She’s terrible.

You mock up a world where she was the one eaten instead.

She’s your sole best friend now.

You hope she’s full, no longer at risk of starving to illness.

“Sit, girl,” Papa beckons, a calloused, wrinkled finger directed towards the gaping spot by your mother’s side, “Be respectful. You wanted this memorial, now be part of it.”

“I didn’t want- !“

As if sensing your following words, Mama hisses a sharp shush, then pats the ground beside her. Papa raises a brow at you, testing. Sunlight burns your back, and you spontaneously decide the shaded spot by your mother is more appealing (entirely unrelated to your parents’ demands).

Now, you are face to face with your new best friend because she is your real best friend’s murderer. You hate her. You love her. You want her to feel every shred and tear and pierce she inflicted upon your bunny.

“Darling,” Mama coos, fingers dancing up your shoulder and through your hair, uncaring for how she ruins the strands, “be realistic. A simple marsh rabbit was never going to survive out here.”

“He followed the river out for a reason,” you murmur, now looking down from the big, remorseful, wet eyes of Papa’s dog, “We were meant to be best friends.”

“You’re not a baby anymore,” Papa snaps, rising onto his feet, he glares at you. He glares at you with deep lines retracing their places in his forehead, and his hands clench so hard they shake, until they suddenly go lax. He waves both hands out, shaking them free of all tension as he sighs and turns and prattles down towards the ocean.

His dog follows, slower than she used to with a pause and caution fresh to her gait, licking his hand as he pulls free his fishing pole from the sand. Mama pats down your back and mutters apologies.

You rise shortly after and whistle the dog back into your small shelter, knowing how her wounds will burn should she follow your father into the lapping sea water. She licks your face and you pet around the open scratches from this morning.

You dream that night of what would happen if you let her wander into the ocean.

You wake up with an incredible sense of guilt.

…

“I’m so tired,” Marcille dregs her weight onto your back, causing you to stumble under the sudden hefty addition, “We should stop soon!”

“Agreed,” Chilchuck huffs, stretching his arms out in front of him.

“How about you?” Laois coils at the waist to glance back at you, brows raised high, “Packs wearing you down?”

“No!” you howl defensively, hands wriggling deeper into the leather of Chilchuck’s waterskin when Marcille moans in protest to your denial, “But! If everyone is tired then we should settle down, probably. I think.”

“I think so, too,” Laios nods, deferring to Senshi -- the pair murmuring about which of the dark archways lining the dungeon hall leads to a safe rest stop.

Your party finally piles into an off-room, Marcille still slouched against your back to send you both careening towards the far left end of the cellar.

“Hmm,” Chilchuck points up towards a series of holes in the cobbled archway, “It looks like this room’s rigged to lock us inside. So be careful to not step on this tile, it’ll activate the- !”

Senshi grunts over the sudden sinking in his left side, foot slid over the edge of the stone Chilchuck’s index finger is aimed at, “Whoops.”

A scream escapes the half-foot, Chilchuck narrowly rolling out of the way of downcoming spears. Pointed ends stab towards the cobblestone floor, tips scraping rock, effectively trapping your lot into the cellar.

“Eek!” you scream, both hands pawing at Laios’ arm, “We’re gonna die in here!”

“Shut up, we’re not gonna die in here,” Chilchuck groaned, rising to his knee to inspect the lock attached to the middlemost bar, “I’ll get it open in the morning. If anything, it might help keep us secured overnight, so I can’t be mad.”

“Are you sure that’s okay?” you ask, Marcille nodding in backup to your question.

“It’s a pretty simple lock, so it shouldn’t cause me too much grief in the morning.”

Laios nods, stepping back carefully to avoid jangling you off his arm as he sets out his sleeping bag. You stand over him now, hands splayed gently across his back as he flattens his mat, “If you’re gonna stay by me, could you help me get my armor off?”

If anyone except Laios were to ask, you’d probably take offense to the wording -- but it was Laios, and you know Laios well enough to know he’d never want to hurt your feelings.

So you nod, despite the fact he cannot see you, “Of course!”

Neither you or Laios is certain when physical contact became so normal between you, only that now it's strange for Laios to remove his heavy plating without you. So he tries to suck up every opportunity he can now, requesting your assistance whenever the party stocks into a room with a door to keep out ambushers.

“Hey,” Marcille beckons from across the room, already having set out both your mats, “I thought you’d be by me tonight.”

“I will be! Just… helping…” you return focus to Laios, giddily undoing the leather straps of your leader’s grieves before rushing off his pauldrons.

“Thanks again,” he works off the clasps on his arms, slinking free from each piece with a noisy series of clunks and thuds.

“I love helping,” you rationalize quickly, face alight with glee as you wait for Laios to set aside his gorget. Once given a go-ahead nod, you eagerly grasp the lip of his cuirass by the waist and tip upwards. While you’re not lying about your natural proclivity to be helpful, you’re also not terribly against feeling the broadness of Laios’ body up close.

You blame it on admiration.

You admire how he can move so smoothly in such heavy pieces. You admire how despite the both of you being tall-men, he’s managed to occupy the stature to a fuller extent than you. He’s not just big because of his race, but he’s got real discipline to continuously train and hone his combat skills. His muscles are as aesthetically pleasing as they are a sign of his dedication.

In a weird way, you think every monster to be eaten by him should be honored.

Ironically, that night you dream of the party’s first encounter with monsters you couldn’t eat: Orcs.

…

“First ones to die are the ones with the weapons!”

“Aah!” you shriek, immediately releasing your daggers so the blades crash by your knees with a faint tink, tink, tink, “I’m unarmed! Please don’t kill me!”

“Have a backbone!” Chilchuck shouts at you, though beads of sweat are pouring down his face as well.

“I don’t wanna die, Chilchuck!” you cry, sniffling.

“I don’t either, you know?” he hisses in your ear.

Your eyes are too clogged by waterworks to make out the following dispute between Senshi and the Orcs. Now hugging a pair of onions to your chest for support rather than your teensy needlepoint daggers.

“Them veggies be something you grew, I guess?” despite the lilt in his tone, you don’t take the Orc Chief’s tone as a question, “We’re on a supply run lookin’ for food. ‘Preciate if you’d share them with us.”

“Sure, be happy to. What you got to trade for them?” Senshi must be crazy to expect a trade with big, hungry Orcs with big, shiny weapons surrounding you all.

“No trade. Tribe’s desperate, we barely got up to this floor alive. You’ve been a good friend and I hate to do this, but… hand over everything you got. Right now.”

You fumble the onions between your arms, then shirking off the carrots tangled in your bag’s side pockets. Senshi glares at you through his peripherals, grumbling quietly for you to pick the crops back up before returning to his parley with the Orcs.

Unfortunately, your obvious compliance earns you no favor compared to your comrades.

“Coward,” Marcille thunks her head against the cabbage in her hands, “Coward!”

“I was scared!” you wish you had your forfeited onions back, even if only to provide something to cling to. The space between your arms feels so glaringly empty it makes your racing heart swerve to overdrive.

“Everyone was!” Chilchuck glares up at you, then toward Senshi, “Except that idiot.”

“Be nice,” you knot your fingers together, only to watch them unravel again as your group is herded towards the Orcs’ makeshift camp. Then, you look to Senshi for backup, “Besides, they were getting thrown out if we couldn’t trade, right? What’s the harm?”

Senshi shakes his head at you disapprovingly, and it oddly cuts deeper than when your father would do the same, “You need to stand your ground, that’s the difference.”

“Don’t antagonize her,” Laios jumps in, voice level in spite of the agitated pinch in his brow, “You all know she hates pain.”

“Who doesn’t, dumbass?!” Chilchuck grits, quickly hushing himself, “None of us want to suffer.”

With admittedly no comeback, even with all your prayers that he’d clunk one together, Laios shrugs, and -- as if sensing your dilemma -- sticks out his bicep for you to hug to your chest.

…

You woke up feeling despondent, gloomily rolling up your area and preparing for the day’s adventure while Senshi made breakfast. And as much as you wish Laios’ curiosity could inspire any excitement within yourself to try the lumpy larvae porridge from cellar-dwelling insects, you’re really not craving any.

“Hey!” but there the blonde is, calling to you and restlessly patting the floor beside him, “Come on, it’s almost ready!”

With weak, frizzly resolve, you conceded in an instant. Just as instantly, you regret it.

Faint, tangy iron clings to the gum of your mouth. A sourness washing over your palette soon after. Your lips press tightly before your tongue lolls out and you’re scraping the harsh edge of your spoon down your flesh, “Blehhh…!”

“Seriously?” Chilchuck sighs, though not withholding his own scrunched face, “You’re acting like a kid.”

“It’s gross!” you whine, bowl clattering between your legs, “It hurts my mouth!”

“Really?” Laios leans in from your left, his chest, while still unguarded, crushes against your shoulder, pointing down into your bowl with his own spoon, “Mind if I have yours?”

“Be my guest,” you slide the bowl his way, then squishing the tip of your tongue into your top gums, “I think it burnt a dent in my mouth.”

Chilchuck groans this time, loud and abrasive, eyes narrowed at you, “It’s not even that bad.”

“You’ve been brainwashed! Monster guts are monster guts, and this time their stomach acid burned my mouth!” you look to your right, at the elf contently munching on Senshi’s cooking, “Right, Marcille?!”

(Senshi’s rebuttal of, “Ain’t no guts in this.” goes unnoticed)

“Hm?” she withers under your pointed stare, shoulders shriveling towards her chest, “I mean, yeah, it is weird…” then she lifts her bowl level to her face, dodging your gaze, “But I don’t think it's burned my mouth.”

“Maybe I’m allergic,” you drivel, focus flitting to Laios’s hands as he grabs your serving to dig in -- even licking the excess off your abandoned utensil, “If I’m allergic I might die…”

“Or you’re just crazy,” Chilchuck intervenes.

“Be nice to me!” you cry, raising a fist as if to strike the man over your fire. You’d never, you don’t have the courage.

Laios nods, “Be nice.”

“You’ll be hungry later,” Senshi chastises, “Eating is the privilege of the living. You’re squanderin’ it.”

“We’ll have lunch later,” you curl your knees to your chest, binding them with both arms tight around your thighs, “I can wait.”

“Who says we’ll find anything worth eating?” you doubt Chilchuck cares about either your stomach or Senshi’s cooking, you instead boldly assume he just wants to keep lecturing you.

“We will!” you lay your head against Laios’ shoulder, peeking up at the man through your lashes, “Right, Laios? We’ll find food again today.”

“I mean, yeah,” he blinks down at you cluelessly, “Deeper we go down, the more we’re bound to find!”

“See! We’ll find food!”

“It’s too early to be fighting…” Marcille frowns, eyes flicking from you to Chilchuck, and back to you.

Chilchuck retires his own bowl and grossly wipes his mouth off with his arm before scooching to the door, waving off whatever retort could follow.

Senshi takes both yours and Laios’ bowls once both are emptied before turning to you, “You may want to dig into the spare snacks in your bag anyway. Ain’t good to start the day on an empty stomach.”

His sudden warmth inspires a molten ooze in your own chest, you shyly nod before muttering, “Sorry for calling your cooking gross… it isn’t, actually. I liked- !”

“Larvae pods can’t be for everyone,” he cuts you off with a speedy recovery, “More for the people that do enjoy it.”

“Thanks for sharing!” Laios claps your back, trying to be friendly and only rattling your balance.

Senshi and Laios begin packing up as you spindle onto your hands and knees to crawl the couple of paces towards your bag. Creeping a hand under the flap to dig for treats, your whole body spiking with goosebumps and raised hairs when you distinctly miss any indentation of rations in your palm. You prattle forward another two knees-worth and unlatch the golden clasp to dig through your bag.

“Oh, no…” you mutter, movements growing more agitated the longer you go without finding food, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

“You okay?”

You jump back, clenching both hands over your heart and nodding rapidly, “Yeah, fine! No worries here, Laios!”

“Sounds good!” he backs away to continue assisting Senshi.

“No!” suddenly, Chilchuck’s voice stabs through the room, “No, no, no, no, no!”

“What’s wrong?” Marcille rushes over, clutching Ambrosia between unsteady palms.

Thankfully the party’s attention pivots to the screaming lockpick and you get the grace of pretending there’s absolutely more food left for your group. No problems here!

“It’s jammed!” Chilchuck wrangles the silver bars, then latching onto the boxy lock itself as if to choke all life from the metal, “How am I supposed to pick a lock if the lock isn’t sufficient quality?!”

Or, apparently, you cannot pretend. At least not for long because a problem arose on the opposite side of the cell.

“You can get us out though, right?” Marcille’s grip on Ambrosia loosens, even calm enough to lay the staff against a wall.

“Of course, I can. Who do I look like?” Chilchuck scoffs.

Silently, you beseech Chilchuck’s expertise surpasses this lock’s apparent lack thereof.

“So, how’s the door?”

“Still not open!”

“I thought you were a specialist on these things, Chilchuck.”

All fiddling and knocking ceases in an instant, Chilchuck now staring dead-eyed at Laios for his unwelcomed quip.

“So scary,” Laios whispers beneath his breath, then turning towards you with a subtle downturn of his lips, “What’d I do?”

Hugging yours and Chilchuck’s bags closer to your chest with a stilted shrug, you reply, “I guess he didn’t appreciate the input.”

“I thought- “

Chilchuck’s icy stare kills your leader’s words in his throat.

“Well, we still have leftovers, so we aren’t in trouble of starving for awhile,” you fabricate, digging a hand through your bag to aid your illusion of ease, “When we do run out, I have a plan! So don’t worry about going hungry.”

“Hm?” Laios quirks a brow at your uneven grin.

Before he can prod for more direction, Marcille’s popping back and relieved groan creak through the room. She arches up from her recline on the ground, gold tresses fluttering out around her head. With more huffing and moaning, she flips onto her stomach and stablizing onto her elbows to stare at Chilchuck’s twiddling. Poking and striking various chords and rods within the lock’s bottom hole, you can hear Chilchuck’s frustrated swears in both common and native tongue (though the longer he goes without success, the more obscure and foreign his curses sound).

You’d hate to see Chilchuck face more defeat than he’s already bore. Few hours have passed since waking to find yourselves locked in the dungeon cellar. Chilchuck will soon be considering blood sacrifices made from all four of you, you fear.

“You know, it’s been awhile since I could wash my hair… would be nice if we were out so I could take care of that,” Marcille grins, already knowing the response she’ll pull talking like that.

“Marci, be quiet…!” you whine anxiously, eyes narrowing on Chilchuck’s back.

The man slowly turns his head to narrow his eyes at Marcille, “Huh?” she shrugs coyly, curling a finger into framing strands of her long hair, Chilchuck laughs. Rage thinly veiled by (obviously forced) lightheartedness, “Didn’t quite catch that.”

“Guys!” you wail, “Please!”

Senshi sighs through his nose, murmuring about kids bickering as he polishes the knife you only see used for cooking.

Tense silence descends upon your group once again.

Turning to the blonde at your side, you murmur, “I’m more worried about how to keep from getting bored. I feel like boredom is when everyone starts hating each other…”

Laios straightens up at your concern, twisting noisily through his personal bag to drag out a leather bound journal, “I could show you my notes about monsters! They’re pretty long so it’ll take awhile, perfect way to kill time while Chil’ gets us out!”

Nodding, you lean into his side, watching intently as he recites each tidbit and offbeat scribble as if by heart. You notice that none of the writing is as softened by print or recognizable as what’s scrawled in his guide on edible monsters. You don’t think this book has been exposed to the party yet, and that thought is patently delightful. That you are so dependable to Laios he’s willing to show off something born from his raw passion.

“It was something I teased when I was by myself,” he confesses, cheeks glowing rosy at the vulnerability of it all, “When I started wondering about the integrity of the Gourmet Guide, it inspired me to make a real guide. So, even though I’m sad the author probably never ate the monsters they wrote about, I can still honor the passion it gave me.”

“Wow,” you turn onto your hip and cradle his arm against yours. Perhaps overly casually, you sling a leg over one of his and rest your head against his shoulder, his chill shirt icing the heat on your own cheek (his simmering skin beneath quickly reheats it), “You’re really cool, Laios.”

Marcille’s side-eye goes unacknowledged when you say that.

“Seriously?” you’re easily distracted from everyone else when Laios is grinning so brightly at you, “You think so?”

“Mhm!”

“You’re really cool, too,” he wishes he could say more, but your pretty face so close to his is strangling his bravery.

That night, you have the strangest dream.

…

A lion of gold fur and pearly wings looms over you, globs of His drool hanging and dribbling onto your forehead. Temptation to reach up and comb your fingers through His mane rushes through you -- but you cannot move. Limbs bogged by a weight unseen, and then there is a dog.

Big black eyes pour down on you, front paws plastered at each side of your waist to hold himself up. Pointed teeth peek through its panting snout -- bloodthirsty growls verberating low through its body. You blink and the dog is different. Yipping like a friend, tail wagging at the sight of you, it licks your cheek. You blink and the dog is gone, replaced with a fellow tall-man. Armor removed and shirt hanging low, you can make out his collarbones and the dip down towards his chest -- if you dare to stare straight down then you could make out the handles of his hips.

Blood stains the seams between his teeth, chin glistening with crimson gush. Faintly, you can make out the sensation of lips puckered around your fingers; sucking and nibbling at your nail beds. Chilchuck, Marcille, Senshi. They all seem so at ease, faces completely lax similar to those of nursing kittens.

Laios’ lips press into your neck, hot and cold clashing when he introduces teeth. You can’t even feel the pain as he digs in -- instead, you feel just as calm as your friends look.

You feel serene.

Marcille snaps a finger bone like it's a carrot between her molars. Chilchuck and Senshi lave the spilling blood from her cheeks. They can’t get enough of you. Laios burrows his arms beneath your waist, pressing your body closer into his as he desperately tongues your flesh down his throat.

Hungrily and contently, they swallow you down. Every morsel.

You feel most loved.

…

You woke up feeling grateful.

Chilchuck has not yet gotten your party free. As the day progresses, you feel that gratitude leaking over the floor. It curdles in the open air and soaks into the bottom of Marcille and Laios’ shoes as they ask you to unlock your food pouch.

Cheerful, expectant faces haunt you from above. Marcille, of course, has nothing but patience for you, but the killer is Laios. Obviously. Laios, who so, so fervently and imperatively trusts you so, so wholeheartedly is your biggest problem in this fiasco. He always looks at you like you could never do anything wrong, and you’ve never hated it until now.

Wide, twinkly amber eyes drill into you, “It’s been awhile since we’ve had to dig into the rations, I don’t even remember what’s all in there.”

Marcille nods in agreement, excitement at the prospect of eating obvious in the drool pooling in the corners of her mouth, “Right? It’ll be nice to have something non-monster related, at least.”

“You think so?” Laios pouts, “I thought you were warming up to eating monsters.”

“It's still not my first choice!”

In the midst of their spat, your attention is split between trying to conjure a plausible reason to deny them; and manifesting a destiny where they forgot why they approached you.

By the time Marcille’s tummy croaks through the cramped room, neither has come to fruition. She cups the pouch of her stomach, embarrassed at its echoing rumble.

“Jeez, thought I was hungry…” Chilchuck teases from his post at the door.

“Hey! That was a totally reasonable sound for how long it's been since we ate. And who’s to say that was even me? It could’ve been Laios!”

“It wasn’t,” Senshi adds.

“Definitely wasn’t,” Chilchuck’s sly grin cracks upon the sound of his own gut joining the conversation.

“Ha!” Marcille’s joy is usually able to cleanse your dreary moods, but usually you’re not keeping such a destructive secret.

Usually, you don’t freeze yourself in place like it’ll prevent your party from noticing you’re still alive -- all to avoid them asking the same question from minutes ago,

“So, can you open up the food pack?”

You are not so lucky.

Laios has asked you again.

Rare is it for you to refuse him, because rarer it is for him to ask something outrageous or impossible (or impossibly outrageous) of you. This is the one in a billion chance that you must turn him down. But how can you when he’s looking at you so kindly?

A frazzled, puny No trapped in the back of your desiccate throat when suddenly Senshi says it for you.

“Best to save our rations so we can eat right before we leave.”

Senshi’s trust in you makes you somehow more nauseous. Marcille’s downtrodden agreement makes that stacked nausea triple. Laios curling up beside you to keep you company makes you so electrified you’re certain to be hiccuping bile soon.

(you don’t end up puking, thankfully)

That night, you dreamt of the time you and Laios met.

…

He’s really beautiful, it's the first thing you notice about him. Too beautiful to be a dungeon crawler, Laios’ face is more befitting of royalty. To be praised and swooned over and kissed.

“It’ll be less pay than, well, our swordsman or mage.”

You think his thoughtfulness makes him more beautiful.

Strangely, you feel the need to comfort him. Overcompensate the mediocrity of such a position simply so he doesn’t feel guilty hiring you (because in the back of your head is the fear that if he feels guilty, he simply won’t take you on).

“That’s fine! I don’t mind at all, as long as I get any money I couldn’t care less.”

You just want a house. You just don’t want to suffer.

“Alright, then, looks like we have a carrier,” Laios looked to Falin, the girl nodding with a cheery smile.

You just want to be as close to the beautiful, shining, gnashing sun as possible.

…

You woke up feeling thirsty.

You’d twisted over to dig out your watersack when you found that your entire pack was missing. Ice spilled across your entire body at the sight, a swelling, obnoxious anxiety aching through your nervous system. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, and you could hear the blood pumping through your ears.

Slowly, your head swivels around the room, until you find your pack in the arms of another -- who is now settled across the room rather than beside you.

Peculiarly close to Senshi’s pseudo-camp, Marcille is scratching your bag tightly to her chest.

“Marci,” you call, dredging the boys’ curiosity towards you. You don’t know if she’s taken the liberty of looking inside, “Give that back…”

She does not, merely hugging the leather tighter. Such desperation clues you that she’s most likely just as oblivious about the bag’s contents as everyone else is. Her stomach rumbles loudly, you swallow dryly and wet your lips to beg.

“Marci, please!”

The elf hisses back, not unlike a pestered kitty, and clutches your pack tighter to her chest. She glares through her lashes, kicking her legs out when Laios reaches to take your bag back.

Senshi shakes his head and rises from his own spot in the corner. Marcille’s gaze hones in on the dwarf instantly, and she whirls around to face the wall -- now caging your bag to her chest.

“Marci,” you retry weakly, “please, hoarding isn’t- !”

She silences you with another shortburst glare over her shoulder, “Who said I was hoarding?” she ‘hmph’s and shakes her head, “How do I know you won’t just eat it all as soon as I’m not looking?! Huh?! You’ve gone the longest without food after all!”

You gasp at the accusation, then sparing a glance up at Laios to see if he’s buying her tale, “How could you say that? I always share! It’s everyone’s food!”

“Marcille,” Senshi commands cooly, standing at your side, “you should know that isn’t like her. We all share our food so nobody goes hungry. To intentionally starve others is just cruel.”

“Exactly!” you plea, shakily reaching out only to yank your hands back to your chest when she snaps at your fingers with full teeth, “Just give it back, please?!”

Laios frowns, visibly uncertain how to bring you and Marcille back to the giddy lounging gals you were mere days ago, “Marcille, you two are friends -- if you know she’s never stolen before, why would she start now?”

Marcille sharply redirects her stare into the corner, shrugging and clutching the pouch tighter.

Chilchuck bangs his forehead into the door, “Children.”

“Marcille…” you whimper, hot in the face and barely believing you’re even telling the truth right now. You’re delirious with dehydration and hunger and skepticism that you’re being honest, making it hard to see straight. Elf and tall-man faces blur together, Senshi is blotted out by the black dots in the corners of your vision, and Chilchuck is a mere speck. Far, far away. You feel far, far away. Like you could die, like you’re dreaming, and oh as the words come out of your mouth you’re actually hoping that you are dreaming, “it’s empty.”

Every head snaps to you. All dizziness snaps into hyperawareness. At minimum it's two degrees colder than it used to be, you can hear the sound of your own breathing, and the smell of mold rots away every other scent in the room.

You shrink into yourself and barely scrounge the courage to keep from curling into a rocking ball of apologies. Your disbelief doubles when you realize you’re still looking Marcille in the face -- eye to devastated eye.

“It’s empty?”

“It’s empty…”

Senshi steps back from your side, you want to dig your nails into his ankles and drag him back. You don’t. Laios retreats as well and you selfishly wish he’d just pierce you with his sword, if only to end this humiliation and regret. Now that everyone’s staring at you, you realize you probably should’ve said something from the start.

“I thought maybe Chilchuck would’ve gotten us out by now… I didn’t think we’d still be here…” you try to reason.

The harsh clatter and clang of Chilchuck’s picks against the ground draws your attention, he’s got both hands knotted into fists. His face drawn in a slant, as if he’s silently asking you to repeat yourself. As if he didn’t quite catch that.

“Then it's my fault?” he swiftly dodges the arm Senshi puts out as a blockade, now in your face and far more threatening than usual, “You’re saying it’s my fault your pack is empty?”

“No! Just- !”

“So why even mention that?!” he huffs, “Why even say my name?”

“I just thought that once we were out we’d find more food and then it wouldn’t be a problem!”

“So you still wanted to lie to us?”

“I never said that! You’re putting words in my mouth! Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“Your plan was to intentionally hide the truth -- that’s lying!”

“No! It’s just hiding!”

Chilchuck screams, raw with frustration and unbridled by cumbersome words. He covers his face with both hands as if he’s in pain just to look upon you.

“I’m sorry!” you plea, now turning to Laios with weak sobs bubbling right beneath your skin. Your face feels as though it's been scorched with dragon’s fire, though your eyes are flooded wet, “I just didn’t want everyone to be scared. I would’ve told you once we were out! Promise!”

Laios always liked being close to you the best, including Falin. In the wake of her disappearance, his inclination towards your presence has only magnified. You engage his interest in monsters, you’re forward and blatant with your compassion, and your skin on his is always so soothing. Laios doesn’t guess if you’re genuine, he knows you are. He imagines that’s why when you touch him it’s so warm and calming whereas others’ makes him itch.

Your soul itself must be as sweet as the bottom innard of an ivy tentacle.

“I know,” Laios nods, smiling thinly, “I know you would’ve.”

If you say you thought it was for the best, then you really must have, and he can’t berate you for having a heart.

You return his grin threefold, overtly thrilled he’s believed in you, yet again.

“You’re kidding!” Chilchuck shouts, now tugging sharply at his hair in frustration, his face red, “Laios, how can you let her get away with this?!”

Marcille shoves your pack into your face, standing over your toppled form. She looks like she hates you.

Now you’re the one cradling a food-barren bag to your chest. Laios assists you to your feet, prying your bag from your arms with gentle fingers to settle it along the wall. It sags, giving way to its empty stomach and collapsing over itself, folding into halves.

Marcille inhales deeply, mouth popping open to speak, but it's your resident half-foot’s voice that cuts through the air.

“Why are you here?” Chilchuck grumbles, glaring up at you.

His sudden venom stuns you into silence. Chilchuck’s face round with a specifically unfamiliar malice. Through his wired irritation at mimics and tentacles, he has never looked so particularly irked. So vexed. He looks like he detests your very face.

“I need money…” you murmur, curling into yourself the longer his terrible stare goes, “Just like you…”

“No. You’re not just like me, we’re not alike,” he’s unnecessarily defensive at your claim, “I’m useful. I work. You don’t do anything. Why are you here?” he lowers his voice, but you can’t mistake the change for any sense of relief, “There’s lots of things you could do for money.”

“Chilchuck!” Marcille wails, eyes wide -- snapped from their previous disdain and now fraught with shock and dread, her hands hover at her chest as if she could physically slice, rearrange, and mend the tension, “Don’t say that!”

“Be nice,” you wring your hands, “Be nice to me,” you frown, “I didn’t want to work a hard job, and being a carrier pays well enough. Then, uh, then I thought maybe I could be useful if I died… I could be like a meat shield, and then when I die you could eat me. You know, if you ever got stuck down here… like now.”

Chilchuck guffaws, jaw dropping and brows furrowing in distraught, “Eat you?! You thought we would eat you?!”

“I wouldn’t be offended,” shrugging, you crane your head down before subtly ticking sideways towards Laios, “You’ve never eaten human, right? I’m sure it’d be interesting.”

“How could you say that?!” Marcille buds in, once again on the offense. Senshi lingers in the back of your party, beneath the shaded hood of his helmet his gaze is steely. Determinately opposed to your very ideals. He’s eerily quiet, as if complying with Chilchuck and Marcille’s side will mistakenly motivate your own. That, or he’s so horrified none of his nerve endings will respond to his brain.

Laios does not refute your claim.

He swallows roughly, eyes darting to the floor.

“Everyone,” still staring at the ground, Laios steps between your group’s semi-circle, “Enough fighting,” his voice is quiet, too, but not calm. Ragged and soft, exasperated, “Please, stop fighting.”

A sturdy markdown of your offer never escapes his lips, though.

You nod slowly, “I’m sorry for being so useless. I thought I was doing something good…”

“You do,” Laios takes you by the shoulder, spinning you the other way towards your lone mat. His voice grows quieter, by the echo you can tell he’s talking to the others now, “Don’t antagonize her.”

Your sleeping bag is cold, it ruffles stiffly everytime you move. The fluffed material beneath your head fares no better, frost biting your cheek and lapping your splayed, exposed eyeballs. Tears prick as both eyes crisp dry -- cooled droplets dripping across your cheeks. Sorrow mixes with the salt, you thought you were doing good.

Perhaps by volunteering yourself to be used to the very last shred of meat, you could be more treasured. Cowardice outweighed by willingly absorbing the worst of your party’s instincts. By this method, you are more desired.

So you thought, but you’ve been rejected.

Squealing with protest, your sleeping bag retches around shivery shoulders as you smush your quivering lips into the material of your mat.

“These past couple of days have been hard on you, huh?” Laios unrolls his own sleeping bag beside yours. You flinch at the unwelcomed rumble of his voice, unfortunately he continues, “I get it. Everyone’s on-edge,” his comforting words fail to reach you, he slips into his bag, staring at you, “I hope you’re not sleeping yet… That’d make this kind of pointless…”

“Laios.”

“There you are,” he sighs, relieved, and you cannot imagine why. You don’t think there’s anything to be relieved about as long as you’re around, sucking up space and precious resources.

“Laios,” you call, “We should just do it. Right here.”

“Huh?”

You twist your head to peek over your shoulder, chilled tears drying tracks into your cheeks, confirming each of your friends is tucked and slumbering on the other side of the room. Surely, none of them would hear so long as you didn’t fight back; and you’re certain you won’t. Laios isn’t the type to make you suffer. He knows you hate suffering. He isn’t sadistic, after all, the only pleasure he takes in killing is the follow-up: eating.

“You want to, right?” you usually wouldn’t be so daring as to make the suggestion on your own, but food supply has dwindled too drastically by now. Everyone else can maintain their delusion all they want, but you know Laios is not one to deny himself, “Laios, you want to?”

He inhales sharply, molten amber eyes blazing through your face -- faint candlelight shines against his irises and bounces back the lump of your silhouette. Stubbornly, he says nothing -- neither nodding or shaking his head. Instead, he lies still, as if bitten by a Cockatrice.

“We can do it right now. They’re all asleep.”

Laios sneaks a hand through the neckhole of his sleeping bag, arm slithering out to soothe the pad of his thumb over your cheek. Silently, he appreciates the roundness of your face, the slope of your neck.

He does want to sink his teeth in, but this feels stranger than consuming monsters. It stretches far past the walking mushrooms or slimes on the top level; the problematic nature of your proposal even surpasses Chilchuck’s humanoid debate. You’re not a mere humanoid -- you’re human. Another tall-man. Your muscle composition is just the same as his -- your skeletons indecipherable from one another.

It shouldn’t be difficult to decide, Laios knows that much. He shouldn’t have to think about it. He shouldn’t shut down every time you mention it.

Despite that, he does -- he considers how the flesh of another tall-man would roll between his molars. Would the meat be salty? Or savory? How much fat should he trim -- or should he boil it all down just to save?

But aside from that, the reason he wants to mark your neck is not those taboo urges. Completely unrelated, in fact.

Laios’ fingers trail from your pulse point, curving along your exposed shoulder and dipping beneath your bag to dig blunt nails into your arm.

“No,” he squeezes your shoulder in what he hopes is a reassuring gesture, “Not you,” his hand retracts, coiling back to his chest, “I don’t want to eat you.”

“We’ll all die…” you frown, eyes of an iridescent sunshine sheen maintain their hold on you, “It’s better for one to go rather than the rest of the party, right? I can be useful like that…”

“I don’t want to eat you.”

“Oh…”

“Yeah,” his eyes flutter shut, brows pinching towards the middle of his face. And he cares not for what that may say about him as a leader. He’d giddily offer up the entire party to be found by corpse retrievers before gobbling you down.

“But then why keep me around? I don’t do anything special like Chilchuck or Marcille. I can’t cook or fight like Senshi. And I’m nothing like you.”

“You don’t have to be,” he tucks his chin by his chest, still avoiding your stare, “I prefer you as you. I’m glad we know each other, I don’t care if you feel useless because you’re not. Just having you around makes me feel more alive. More excited to explore the dungeon, even before Falin got taken. I feel like I need you around more than before. Since Shuro said he hated me… I guess it’s been tougher to trust that I’m not annoying everyone. With you, though, I don’t even have to question it. Outside the dungeon, too, when we’re in town. It’s nice to be around you the most.”

His eyes are clenched tighter and tighter the longer his spiel goes on -- he cannot bear to look you in the eyes while guts and bile spew from his lips. His cheeks are red, raw from self-imposed exposure.

“Do you mean that?” you ask quietly, eyes so wide in shock he’s forced to meet them as he opens his own, “Am I useful to you, just because I’m me?”

He hums, nodding softly. Crude emotion overwhelms you at the admission; confusion and disbelief and desire tangle in your stomach, loose tendrils flapping up into your gullet and knotting around your uvula until you spit up a meek,

“Can I sleep with you?” as if he would refuse you, you tack on, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Wordlessly, Laios unzips his sleeping bag -- you crawl out from your own to invade his space. His body is soft yet firm against your back, and he makes a clear effort in keeping his breaths shallow. You can see the worsening red tint of his cheeks, even in the wavering candlelight.

Laios’ body goes limp once you’re settled beside him. Selfishly, you press into his lax form -- exhaustion and hunger making your head light. You’re not concretely sure you’re conscious right now. Maybe this is your final dream before you are culled by starvation.

Your stomach grumbles, and Laios pouts at the sound. Bringing one hand over his own abdomen, Laios edges his fingers around his ribcage. He can feel the bone’s impression. He hasn’t been able to feel the protrusion since splitting from the traveling caravan with Falin. He’s unaccustomed to starving himself, he’s unsure how much longer he can hold himself together. You, however, pay no mind to the sound.

You don’t so much as crimp into yourself.

“It’s kinda weird,” you muse suddenly, turning in Laios’ bag so your chest is pressed to his. Oddly, for all its intimate implications, the contact feels natural, “I hate suffering more than anything else, but I can’t bring myself to regret giving you my breakfast a couple days ago. Even though the suffering that nasty junk gave me was a lot better than how I feel right now.”

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Laios’ arms wrap around you, tucking you even closer to him and forcing your legs to mingle with his, “Eating is the best thing you could do for your body.”

“I’m happier you got to eat than I would’ve been after eating it. Besides,” you cant your head up, chin digging into the center of his thick chest -- looking up at Laios, “I prefer sleeping to nourish my body.”

“As soon as we’re out, you’ll have the most delicious meal we can make in the dungeon.”

He hugs you tighter.

You don’t dream that night. But Laios does.

pt 2 - rabbit eat dog

Laios’ cheeks sting in the frosty air, forearms and knees stubbornly tingling through the puffer of his red long-sleeve. Attempting to make out the space even five inches before his face is impossible through the thick, icy fog, but he knows the way. His feet pivot in perfect tune to each divot and roll of the plains.

He’s grown up here. Ran over these lands since he could lift one leg over the other, though now he is alone. Wandering with only the intent to find, and even then he is alone. Laios never feels more alone than when he is in a room full of people, at least in solitude he cannot be ridiculed or judged. Cowardly as it may seem to run from his problems, Laios chases relief -- where exactly that is, he’s unsure. His relief comes in forms that move, much more inconvenient than ale or tobacco but also much more divine. Moving sister, moving moon, moving monsters.

A cursory, confirming glance up gives sight to the real moon hanging above Laios -- a pale face beaming down to give light, only to be choked out by this unabating fog. Fond for night, Laios feels eased by the celestial. Nighttime, childishly, is something he’s always associated with terrible creatures in the bowls of dungeons. Besides that, is how quiet the house becomes past sundown, when the only conscious soul is his. Sometimes his sister stood up with him, too, and that was nice.

Nice, still, is the other moon’s presence. One less large and pale. One that walked at his side.

A soft glow scourges through the plumes of gray, encouraging Laios to quicken his pace. Warmth blooms across his frosted extremities, thawing stiff joints until suddenly he’s too hot beneath his puffer. Stripping the material, he’s left to sweat in a simple pullover shirt as he begins stumbling towards the glow.

Fog clears, drifting apart seamlessly.

Laios trips abruptly, seemingly over his own footing, before tumbling to his knees, hands scraping on hidden rocks and dirt clots. His eyes water from the intense sear of light painting the ground.

“Hey.”

Laios, against better intuition, feels a bizarre sense of calm wash over him at the voice’s intrusion. Perhaps specifically because of whose voice calls to him.

You loom over his huddled frame, just as bright and welcoming as the moon, and just as pretty too. Prettier, he corrects.

“Hi,” he returns your greeting lamely, rising slowly to a stand.

“You look hungry.”

Recently, Laios has discovered that even after a hearty meal his appetite is not quite satiated. During the brief moments where his mind can wander, he spends it contemplating what he could be eating in that moment. Well, that when he’s not thinking about you. While his stomach is not a bottomless pit ever unfilled, more often than not he’s adopting the attitude of well, i could eat. Not quite greed, not quite temperance. He’ll take what is offered and be gracious.

So, yes, in short, Laios supposes he is always hungry. Admitting that to you is particularly embarrassing, however, because you never seem hungry. Even when your stomach sings with starvation, your discomfort is completely invisible.

He used to assume it was your resilience -- a sign of your courage, to continue adventuring regardless of your terror.

(now, he’s starting to think differently, with your fresh disposition of raw nerves and desperation to be enjoyed)

“You’re hungrier, right?”

“Not really.”

“Oh…” he’s unsure how to respond. Trapped to stare at you while you stare back.

These parts of the fields are entirely unfamiliar to Laios.

“You should be hungry,” he tries to reason.

“Why?”

“Don’t know. Just a feeling, really.”

“What should I eat?” you frown, inching closer.

“Whatever you want,” he answers honestly. Laios believes in free will, but in some strange, completely unintelligible way, he thinks you deserve the most free will. He thinks you should do whatever you want, whenever you want, and he’s left confused how you don’t feel the same.

(feasibly in light of the night’s cannibal-themed fight) You suddenly suggest, “What about you?”

Laios freezes at that, all fire radiating from you icing over in an instant. Gaze sinking to his feet. Could he realistically agree to that? End his life to feed you? Does his devotion stretch so far?

Laios would hate to (permanently) die… but he would hate more for you to (permanently) die before him.

He dodges your question with one of his own, “Would you still like me if I was a monster?”

When he’s feeling distinctly indulgent, Laios flashes into long past fantasies of becoming a tri-headed beast.

And if he were to become one, would you gaze upon him just as kindly? Would Laios still be Laios to you?

His eyes follow each twinge in your face as you think, brows scrunching and bottom lip sucked between your teeth. Eventually you nod, slow and measured, “Yes. I would.”

Laios believes that, honestly. You would have to. You’re just that amazing. So, he should be amazing in equal measure -- or more, he should aim to impress you with his greatness.

So, yes. If you really wanted to. He could feed you with himself.

…

You wake up feeling unrefreshed.

Senshi, Marcille, and Chilchuck continue to bar themselves across the room from you. Laios freely travels from one end to the other despite your party’s annoyance with him. Grumbling stomachs echo from each person in the group now, and you wonder if maybe you should circumvent Laios’ rejection to feed your friends anyway. To make up for your various mistakes and blunders. It's only right.

You stare at Chilchuck’s back -- his arms no longer flailing with movement, hands instead paused around the box lock itself. He’s glaring at the mechanism, you think he’s hoping nobody notices his lack of effort. Marcille and Senshi are murmuring amongst themselves, casting wry glances your way every other sentence. Perhaps they’re discussing potential ways to make you suffer when they finally gut you.

You wouldn’t fight back, you know you wouldn’t. For the good of the pack’s survival, you’ll let them feast upon you.

(it does not once cross your mind that they could be talking about how to best convince you you’re wrong for writing your own consumption off so easily)

Laios sits at your back. Not moving. Not touching. Watching.

Your eyes drift from Chilchuck’s petrified frame to the floor, then to one cobbled block slightly lower than the others. About an inch below level, but not sunken in completely: the stone Senshi stepped on.

“Senshi?” you call.

No response.

“Hey, Senshi?”

He’s staring at you, but his eyes are hard to make out beneath his helmet. You shift upon your knees despite Laios’ soft bleat of disapproval. Marcille now stares as well, eyes much easier to spot when they’re wide with worry.

“I think this stone is…” you shove the step with your meager might and it budges a mere centimeter.

Laios’ hand overlaps yours, pushing down as well. The stone thuds loudly, and Chilchuck suddenly jumps back as the spears clink and shoot into the holed ground. He rockets back up to fuddle the lock, this time it clicks and pops open first try.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Chilchuck kicks up at the retreating bars in vain. He whirls around to see you and Laios hunched over the stone and sighs, silently passing you both to collect his bags and exit.

Senshi and Marcille follow example.

Laios unlatches from your back, and you miss his warmth more immediately than you thought you would.

“I think I should leave the party.”

“Why?” he frowns so genuinely, you’d be unable to buy his cluelessness if you hadn’t known him for so long.

“They don’t like me anymore,” you settle both hands in your lap, plucking at the skin around your nails, “They know I’m useless.”

“So?” his tone is soft, so opposite to his callous start, “I want you here more than anybody. I’m happy to have people I trust and who are good at their work, but I think if you didn’t come with us back into the dungeon, it’d be another thing I’m always thinking of instead of what’s in front of me. And nobody gets my fascination with monsters like you do.”

“Senshi does…”

“I like you more than I like Senshi.”

“Why?”

Laios opens his mouth, teeth white and glistening in the soft flicker glow of dancing orange candle flame. You await his bite. He closes his mouth. You wish you were so confident to pry it wide and press yourself into his cheeks. You wish he’d just eat you whole. Spare no mind to how the others thought of it. If they won’t accept you bones and all, then you’ll continue to long for Laios. You can do that easily. You’ve been an expert in the matter since you joined his group.

“Nobody else will take me, Laios,” you greedily grasp him by the shoulder, “I’m being so selfish, but I need you to- !”

He slaps your hand away, reaching over your offending hands to snag you by your own shoulders, “I don’t want to hear that, you shouldn’t talk like that! You deserve to live, and eat, just like everyone else! We’re friends as much as we are party members, right? They wouldn’t stick around if they weren’t. Your friends wouldn’t want you to be eaten either.”

You glance at the archway, none of the three others are visible, “Is that why they were mad?”

“I can’t speak for them, but you should be up front about how you feel. Talk to them before leaving,” he lowers his head, “If you’re planning to leave still, anyway. Though, I really hope you stay.”

Laios is too afraid to say he’ll beg, if it would enrich the offer. The mere idea of your face twisting angrily or an annoyed rejection slipping past your lips kills him. With both you and Falin gone, Laios would feel a sense of estrangement he hasn’t since his army days. Loneliness amplifying until it's unable to be ignored. The grief and confusion of your loss would muddy the remaining friendly faces in his party -- the taste of monsters would even be dulled. Humiliation would rattle his sense of self everytime he remembered that you’re not even dead, just drifted away.

He’d never survive without you, but he refuses to steal your entire life that mercilessly so he pretends he could.

“If we all just talk to each other, then nobody has to get hurt,” Laios’ hands lower to yours, he squeezes gently while avoiding your eyes, choosing to study the way you lean into his touch, “I don’t want you to go. And I don’t want them to be hurt.”

“Okay,” you rise onto unsteady feet.

Laios separates from you to begin stowing away both your belongings while you squirm into the hallway in front of your party. They shuffle awkwardly, with only Senshi capable of meeting your eyes. Yet he stands the furthest from you.

“I- “ the words dance over your tongue, you thought you were prepared to say them. You’ll leave. You’ll leave. You’ll leave. But you can’t. The words trip and fall and tumble back into your throat before you surrender, “I don’t want to leave the party, but I am sorry for lying. I know I don’t do much, but I love adventuring with everyone. Really, I only- !”

“We were stressed,” Marcille steps forward, releasing one hand from Ambrosia to lay on your hand, “I don’t think it’d be easy on anyone to say the leftovers were actually gone. Especially when you knew that’s what we were relying on to not starve.”

Senshi nods slowly, “We weren’t expectin’ you to run off as apology. You’re young, you make mistakes.”

Marcille elbows your party’s half-foot.

Chilchuck sighs, shaking his hands out at his sides in the way your father used to, “I’m sorry. For calling you useless. I get why you lied, I probably would’ve done the same thing in your position to keep the party from freaking out. But, please,” his usually (deceptively) friendly and pleasant face has morphed into one of weary, a grown man concerned for a child, “Never say anything like that again. We don’t want you dead, let alone to eat your body. You have to plan to stay alive with everyone else, otherwise what’s the point of even joining the party?”

“Right. Sorry,” you blurt, increasingly ashamed of your suggestion earlier.

Their rejection stems not from disgust, then, but love.

They don’t want to eat you because to them you shouldn’t even die.

What a strange conclusion to now be forced to draw. You’re not sure how to swallow it, every time you try it rushes back up. Your friends’ concerned faces give you the determination to keep trying, though.

Laios barrels through the doorway -- redressed in his armor with the remaining bags slung over his shoulders, grinning broadly, “Looks like we can start walking again.”

Much to everyone’s chagrin, the trek towards the next floor begins on an empty stomach. When you reach up for the packs you usually carry, Laios jerks them from your grasp, you whine quietly, “Hey, that’s my job!”

“I know,” he shrugs the bags around his broad frame to fit them more comfortably, “but you haven’t eaten longer than me, and you didn’t sleep very well last night. So let me.”

His strides quicken until he’s by Senshi, you watch him point towards you and Senshi hums thoughtfully.

Your stomach rolls with hunger, and the sting makes you reach out for Laios. You slip your arms around one of his and cradle his elbow into your gut, reducing the ache with a different digging sensation. Laios leans towards you to make the work easier, all while continuing his conversation with Senshi about what the most delicious dungeon meal they could make you would be.

~~~

i like relationships where they dont understand each other but want to try anyway :3

i also love writing readers that are insane and fundamentally insufferable, but still loved

#laios touden x reader #laios x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #dunmeshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader

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kyletogaz · 1 month

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sergeant whiskers [part two] pairing: simon riley x gn!reader cw: fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort part one | part three | masterlist

“simon, come get your cat!”

simon lets out a groan loud enough for you to hear, before making his way to the bedroom. “what are you on about love?” he asks from the doorway.

he sees you standing near the bed with your sweater in one hand, while you point to sergeant whiskers with the other hand. the cat’s not paying either of you any mind as she sits in the center of the bed licking a paw.

“she hissed at me,” you answer with a pout that turns into a scowl when simon has the audacity to laugh. “and before you ask, no i didn’t do anything. she was sitting on my sweater with her claws embedded into the fabric, so i moved her out of the way.”

“gently, i hope.”

“of course i did! what kind of person do take me for simon riley?”

simon winces at your little indignant shriek, before putting his hands up in surrender as he steps further into the room. he leans across the bed, scooping the kitten up into his burly arms. and your heart does not flutter when he rubs his face against her little furry one.

“little gremlin,” simon murmurs fondly, while stroking the cat’s fur. “you givin’ renna a hard time?”

renna? you mouth silently in disbelief. the absurdity of your husband implying sergeant whiskers is your child is enough to make you shake your head with a laugh.

“whiskey’s not giving me a hard time,” you say softly, much to simon’s surprise. “i just wish she liked me.”

simon’s eyes soften at your words. he sets sergeant whiskers back down, then tugs you to his chest. “she does like you. would interacting with her more change your opinion?”

you start to protest immediately, because— “i interact with her.” you feed her, cuddle her, and talk to her when she actually decides to pay attention.

you don’t interact with sergeant whiskers enough though. simon knows this, and so do you. it makes you feel a little guilty because simon adores whiskey like she’s his child. but you? you’re a bit distant, and just a little reluctant to form a bond with the little ball of fur.

simon hesitates a little when he asks his next question. he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but he has to know. “you don’t like her?” simon asks gently, watching silently as your face falls.

“i do like her,” you sniffle, your voice thick with tears. “i want to love her, but i don’t know if i can.”

simon is now looking at you in concern, because you’re starting to get weepy over sergeant whiskers. and this is not how you thought your day would end up. all you wanted was for whiskey to remove her claws from your sweater. you never thought old feelings you tried to bury would resurface and ruin your day.

your tears spill over when simon says, “sweetheart, take a breath and tell me what’s wrong?”

he waits patiently for you to stop crying, so you can explain to him why you’re having a hard time accepting whiskey. and he just stares at you in surprise when you tell him about your childhood pet you loved very much, up until the day she died.

“after that, i promised myself i would never get another pet,” you admit. “it’s part of the reason why we have the no pets rule. i was happy when you agreed, but then you came home with whiskey, and now all i can think about is how i’ll be devastated if anything ever happens to her. it’ll be too much for me.”

simon presses a kiss to your temple, then to your lips, before resting his forehead against yours. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart. if i had known, i would have never— do you want me to give sarge away?”

“absolutely not! i can’t believe you would suggest such a thing,” you say with a huff. “i’d never make you give whiskey up because of me. she’s yours, simon.”

“ours.”

you let out a little laugh before turning away from simon and towards the bed, where sergeant whiskers is sitting and watching both of you. she gives you a slow blink and a soft mewl, before hopping off the bed and prancing out of the bedroom.

you watch her go, and simon starts chuckling when you start sniffling again.

this time, it’s tears of relief and happiness.

a/n: i’m sorry this is not what i had planned originally lmao but i hope you liked it. also renna is a gender neutral term for the word parent. you can also use ren & renny.

#sergeant whiskers #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #i started projecting 💀#kyletogazwrites

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suiana · 4 months

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@yandere-romanticaa (aaand @harmonysanreads) i have an idea for yandere jingyuan 🤑🎀

imagine being his old lover that passed on because you were a short life species. you two loved each other dearly, at least from his point of view. so when you died, he was absolutely devastated, feeling empty even though he didn't show it on his face. he's the general of the luofu after all!

he didn't try moving on. why even bother? he knows it will never work, he'll never move on. you were everything and anything he needed. so he just leaves the house you two once shared in it's old condition, pretending you're still alive and by his side, talking to an empty house.

but then one particularly boring day, you reappeared, and with the astral express no less! he was flabbergasted, wide eyed and left stunned when he saw your familiar face walk the streets of the luofu, smiling like nothing was wrong. like you didn't take his heart and left him empty on the inside.

he couldn't even do anything, couldn't even muster up a simple 'hi' because of how shocked he was with your sudden reemergence. you... reincarnated? and now you're traveling with the express now? he didn't know how to feel.

but what he did know was that he had to get you back. of course he did! you belonged to him after all. thankfully he's now more mature, more experienced. he won't make the same mistakes he did when he was younger. no, he really doesn't want to have to restrain you again. he hates seeing you cry and yell at him, you know?

so when you and the astral express approached him to help the luofu for its crisis or something he acted like how he'd treat anyone else. acted approachable, like an easy going man who wouldn't dare think of anything as nasty as kidnapping or murder. he's grown more patient and knows how to hold back now in the time he's spent without you. even if he really wants to tear out that person's eyes for even glancing at you... he knows it'll scare you away and tear down the perception of him that he so carefully built up for you. so he held back. simply laughed and smiled at you as you told him about the people who confessed to you. oh well, at least he got to see your flushed cheeks and the way you grow flustered.

i mean, that smile he always has is just way too deceptive! anyone would think he's just a lazy and kind general! and maybe even get flustered because of his charming actions!

unfortunately you got charmed.

you fell for his charms, as he expected, and even told your express buddies that you'd settle down in the luofu after you solved the luofu's crisis with them. jingyuan couldn't be happier. ah, so your love for him carried on into the next life too? he just can't help but have a smug smile on his face once you confess to him.

it's even worse when he finds out your lifespan is longer than what it used to be. maybe even as long as a xianzhou native's? he's glad the aeons have decided to reward him for his dedication to you. he really can't bear losing you once more.

he gets the house prepared for your return, all innocent and sweet as he leads you back to your forever home that you used to fight so hard to leave. but don't worry! it's all for your own good! and he won't have to restrain you this time because he got your approval of love before making any moves.

all you have to do now is love him for the rest of your lives. that's simple enough right? he'll do all the hard work, all you need to do is welcome him home with open arms and a sweet smile on your face.

all you need to do is love. him. back.

and now you've also got a son (yanqing) to take care of! why would you ever leave him? you don't want him to get all sad now, would you?

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jingyuan #yandere jing yuan #yandere jingyuan x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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louisupdates · 2 months

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INTERVIEW: Lottie Tomlinson: we lost our mum and sister. Louis saved me

At the age of 20, the sister of One Direction singer Louis had already lost her mother, Johannah, and sister Félicité. Now 25, the social media star has written a book about how they coped

Alice Thomson | Tuesday July 23 2024, 5.00pm BST, The Times

Losing Mum was so hard. I was only a teenager but at least I knew that her death was a possibility, even though she didn’t accept it. She was 47 and had cancer. But when my sister died three years later, I was on this hotel balcony in Bali and I was screaming, ‘No, my baby sister, no.’ The pain was indescribable. I kept thinking, ‘Why me? This can’t be happening again. When is this going to end?’ ”

We are sitting on Lottie Tomlinson’s immaculate white sofa in her pristine white house in Chislehurst, southeast London, where she is curled up in tiny shorts with a perfect tan and impeccably applied make-up. But her French manicured nails are digging so hard into the sofa I think they might snap, the heart tattoo on her minuscule wrist is throbbing and her eyelashes are clogged with tears.

Her life sounds blessed. The influencer has 4.8 million Instagram followers waiting for her to dispense advice on how to apply mascara; the fake tan brand, Tanologist, that she launched at 19 has gone global; and she has a devoted fiancé, Lewis Burton, who runs a luxury concierge business and whose former girlfriend was the late Caroline Flack. They have an adorable son called Lucky, who is dripping ice cream on her marble counters. Her new book is also called Lucky Girl; her older brother is Louis Tomlinson of One Direction and she was touring the world with the band as a make-up artist at 16.

But after her mother died when she was 18, Tomlinson was left looking after her younger sister and two sets of twin siblings, aged eight and two, while creating her businesses, and trying to process her grief. Her father had left their home in Doncaster years before after a battle with alcohol. “Dad had a drinking problem. We’d see glimpses of his good side but he let us down,” she says. “I ended up trying to take care of him rather than the other way round.”

When her mother died, life felt bleak, “I lost the one person who loved me unconditionally, and then when my sister Fizz [Félicité] died of an accidental overdose, I thought I could never be happy again,” she says. “I found the lead-up to Mother’s Day devastating without my sister as well. It was a constant reminder that I was now different from my friends. In my dreams, my mum was still there; she was alive. I woke up feeling comforted, only to realise that she’d gone.”

Tomlinson, who is now 25 and a patron of the bereavement charity Sue Ryder, moves easily between telling you how to apply the best tan and how to talk about death. She cares passionately about both subjects and takes them equally seriously, worried that I’ve never tried a bronzer or used foundation before asking how I coped when my mother died during the pandemic. Her soft Yorkshire accent is both reassuring and no-nonsense.

Born near Doncaster, she was only two when Fizz was born and six when the first twins arrived. “I’ve always been the big sister — Fizz and I each got one and then more twins six years later.” While Louis had his own space, the girls all shared one room with bunk beds. “It was chaos, but my mum, Johannah, was a midwife and loved being pregnant and having so many babies,” she explains. “I used to be in awe of the way she could feed the twins at once, one on each hip. She would do the night shifts, while I held the fort at home.”

Within a few years, Tomlinson would be touring America, Asia and Europe, flying first class with Louis, part of the biggest boy band in the world, but until she was 15, the family had only ever gone to France once a year all packed into a seven-seater car, with her mother’s new partner, snacks laid out in the middle. They stayed in a caravan park. On a Sunday, a treat was to go to their mother’s hospital to see the babies.

While Louis just wanted to sing, play the guitar and listen to Oasis, the girls were obsessed with make-up. “From the age of 12, I struggled academically, but I loved cropped clothes and my mum’s highlighters and mascaras.” She learnt how to apply everything from YouTube tutorials, rather than doing algebra. “We didn’t have much money — we sometimes couldn’t afford to top up the electricity meter so used candles — but everything my mum earned she spent on us. We all looked immaculate — I remember her being horrified when I dyed my hair orange. So it was lovely later when we could treat her.”

Saturday nights were spent watching The X Factor. “My mother and brother kept applying; in 2010, he got in and the whole family went for the audition. We believed in him, but we never thought it would go that far.” One day the family were going to the live shows, the next the boy band was formed with Harry Styles, Zayn Malik, Niall Horan and Liam Payne. “He was 18. For my mum it was a big shock. It was all so sudden. The press and fans were in our front garden every day.”

The older twins had already made their first TV appearances — they sound like Doncaster’s Von Trapps. “My mother was gently pushy,” Tomlinson says, smiling at the thought. “When I didn’t get good enough GCSEs to stay at school, she sent me off to join Louis on tour as work experience. I was so scared. I remember her ringing up Lou [Teasdale], their hair and make-up artist, and saying, ‘Lottie has not got through to sixth form; she’s going to come and assist you.’ I was in the car going, ‘No, please don’t.’ But it ended up being the best thing that happened to me. I went for a week and stayed two years. Lou and I are still so close.”

Suddenly, the two eldest Tomlinson children were circling the world, eating room service and ducking the paparazzi hanging out of helicopters taking snaps. “At first Louis didn’t really want his little sister gate crashing his new rock-star life, but now it feels like the best time of our lives — we experienced that craziness together,” she says.

The teenage Tomlinson found it harder to cope with being photographed wherever she went. “I had some puppy fat which made me very self-aware, and the filler culture was coming in and I felt I had to look perfect.” She had her lips done first at 17. “Then I became addicted: cheek filler, jaw filler, more make-up, blonder hair, slimmer and more tanned. My mum thought I looked perfect, but I was always searching.”

Five years later, when she became pregnant with Lucky and her lips started to swell and crack, she realised she didn’t need the enhancements any more. “I had everything removed, the false eyelashes too. It was liberating.” She kept her boob job, however. “That was just enhancement,” she says laughing. “The rest radically changed the way I looked. My breasts also got huge when I was pregnant and it was a bit painful. But I still breastfed. I loved carrying my child. I felt fantastic even when I was sick and exhausted.”

She leans forward, wraps her bronzed arms around her stomach and whispers, “I am pregnant again. We don’t know yet if it’s a boy or girl. It’s only 13 weeks, so this is the first time I’ve said it publicly. I think I want a big family. I loved having Lucky but after a year I wanted to give him siblings.”

Tomlinson’s influencer career began once she established herself on tour. Soon everything she did, even dying her roots rainbow-coloured, went viral and fashion companies from Asos to Dior wanted in on it. “I was just going for it. I couldn’t believe the money I was making and spending — money I didn’t know existed as a child.”

Then suddenly her mum came home from holiday with flu. “She didn’t want to get out of bed. The doctors quite quickly told her she had leukaemia and she went straight to London for treatment. It all happened so fast. I remember being in London at work and getting a call from her partner — she couldn’t say the words herself, it was too hard for her.” The family were told it was treatable. “We kept so much hope.”

Her mother asked the family to keep her illness secret. “It was hard because you feel so isolated, but I understood. Louis was in the public eye and she didn’t want him questioned. She was determined to fight it and didn’t want everyone pitying her. My friends noticed I was acting differently for a few months. But I wanted to respect her wishes. It was her one request.”

She also dropped everything to go back to Doncaster to help her grandparents with the twins. “The younger ones were two and I wanted to keep everything as normal as possible. I can’t imagine what my mum was feeling leaving her kids to go to hospital.

“I would take them down and treasure seeing her — we tried to keep it light, no serious conversation. The only way Mum could cope was to keep it normal. Then, when the doctors said the transfusions hadn’t worked, she came home to die.”

Tomlinson tries to sound matter-of-fact. “We went to see her in hospital in Sheffield and the next morning we woke up and were told she had died. We felt numb. We didn’t know what to do with ourselves. Now I am involved with the Sue Ryder charity, I am surprised we were offered no support or counselling at all, from the GP, the teachers, the professionals. They all kept away.” Her nan and grandad picked up the pieces.

It’s not surprising she can’t remember the funeral. “I just remember getting really drunk to numb the pain. I couldn’t come to terms with it. I can’t even remember how we organised it. My instinct was to take over as the eldest girl and step into my mum’s shoes so that is what I did.” Meanwhile, her older brother, who was launching his solo career, ensured there was enough money. “He’s incredibly generous. We looked after each other.”

Tomlinson returned to London months later, after her grandmother said she needed to become a role model for her siblings. Her younger sister Fizz worried her most. “She was very academic — she got straight A’s without trying — but she always said she felt different. She was bottling her grief for so long; it was too much and made her turn to other things. I think Mum’s death destroyed her. Only my mum seemed to understand her. If she had been offered some help at the start, things might have been different.”

Meanwhile, Tomlinson’s self-tanning brand was soon being sold in Los Angeles, New York and Australia, while her own fanbase grew; she hardly ever needed to pay for drinks, meals or holidays. However, she finds the term influencer obnoxious. “I don’t want to act like I tell people what to do. I am more of a content creator,” she explains. “I get paid by brands to create content for their clothes or beauty products and promote that to my followers. I also wanted my own business. I was quite aware that, at the end of the day, I was just working with an app. That’s why I started Tanologist with my business partner. I was always using tanning treatments that would end up turning my sheets orange and my face would break out in spots — this is more natural.”

Louis was also forging his career as a solo artist, eventually creating the song Two of Us about his mother’s death. “We were always so proud of Louis and what he was doing. We were not going to match up to being a global superstar, but we didn’t want to — ‘successful’ looks different for everyone,” she says.

But her sister Fizz was slipping and struggling. “She was old enough to do what she wanted at 19; she was partying and taking stuff to numb everything. She did go into rehab but to me it didn’t feel like an addiction problem, but a way to blank out her grief.” When Tomlinson was invited to Bali, she asked Fizz whether she wanted her to stay behind. “She said she was OK, and then it happened while I was away,” she says. (Fizz accidentally overdosed on cocaine, an anxiety drug and painkillers, her inquest found.) “Louis called me…” She stops talking.

The shock of a second death must have been devastating. She doesn’t speak for a minute while she twists her huge diamond engagement ring. “We weren’t mentally prepared,” she eventually says. “I can’t even remember if the two funerals were in the same church. I think grief has affected my memory a lot and that’s quite common. Grief is such a powerful emotion; it takes up a lot of your brain.”

Five years later, she now knows how to remain positive. “I had an amazing mum for 18 years. I have the most amazing family, my little boy and my career, and that is because of her. The same with Fizz — I had an amazing sister. It’s heartbreaking they aren’t with us any more, but they are together and they are looking out for me,” she says, sounding as though she is repeating a mantra.

Having a baby made her feel closer to them both. “He was a boy — it’s funny, he actually looks a lot like Louis did — and I thought, this is what my mother must have felt. But then I had so many questions I couldn’t ask, even more because she was a midwife.”

Her biggest problem was her terror that something terrible would happen to her son. “I became fixated [on the idea that] something bad would happen to him, so I couldn’t sleep. You go to the worst-case scenario, because that’s happened to you twice, to two of the closest people in your life. I couldn’t turn the lights off at night; I needed to see him all the time. Luckily, it calmed down quite quickly.”

We are still flitting between her story and advice on make-up, exercise and clothes.

“I like sharing advice. If a child lost their mother, I would say there is no magic answer. But the point of this book is to show that you can have tragic things happen and still keep going.”

What would the 25-year-old now say to her younger self, struggling at her second funeral at the age of 20? “I would say, ‘You are going to be OK; you will live a nice life.’ I didn’t think I could. I thought this will be a really sad, lonely life without my mum and sister. I wouldn’t have believed then that I could be happy again. But it would have been nice to hear.”

Lucky Girl by Lottie Tomlinson (Bonnier, £22). To order a copy go to timesbookshop.co.uk. Free UK standard P&P on orders over £25. Special discount available for Times+ members

#lottie tomlinson #lucky girl promo #the times #louis tomlinson #23.7.2024 #louis press #full text of the article

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diejager · 6 months

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The writing where reader died, what happens if they were revived as a wraith like Ghost? There's probs going to have a lot of fluff and a small angst here and there. But I mostly wanna read your writings!! It's cus' I can't get enough, and kept rereading it all the time

Cw: pain, death, turning, cannibalism, implied torture, implied blood and gore, angst, fluff, hunger, tell me if I missed any. We’re going to forget how you previously died, cuz @bluegiragi gave us more info about wraiths and I just love where the comic is going.

What a cruel joke, irony hitting him in the face the same way his abrupt shift hurt him, an apathetic slap to the face that left him bloody and in shock the way he left Roba on his dying breath. Simon didn’t know what was crueler, the knowledge that you were tortured and buried alive, left to die alone for the sins of his own making and the wrath of another, or that you were left to die a slow and excruciating death after being beaten half to death, expected to lose your resolve solely on the fact that you were a medic, and turned into the monster he was.

Neither your captor nor death had been merciful, much less the reaper, a collector of wandering souls and lost ghosts, waiting their turn to cross the river with a small token for the afterlife. Be it Hermes, the messenger and the carrier of souls, Thanatos the reaper and collector, Anubis - or Inpu, however people called him - the guide, Ankou the shadow, Sgàthach the warrior, or Freyja and Fólkvangr; you weren’t granted the soft embrace of a calm death, but the cruel rejection of it, forced back into life and abandoned by sweet sleep.

He remembered his own, the painful pull of his back, the crazed smoke that filled his mind with a thirst for blood and revenge, the crack and ugly break of his bode, reshaping his body and organs dyed dark, dying and pained. He remembered well the pain of it like it was yesterday, having to crawl out of the shallow grave on his own and discover the carnage he left behind, stained in his and Price’s blood. He was reborn.

And so were you, crying and sobbing, your skin scarred beyond thinking and mind in shambles of broken faith and abandoned affection. He knew first hand how it felt, the burn and agony of it, the hunger and ache that plagued you like an undying pestilence, darker than the one that ripped through Europe in the fourteenth century and more devastating than the Justinian’s. He’d been too late, too slow to help you through the first ripple of shock and fear once you’d quenched your thirst, staunching it like you would a wound. He let you fester in your sorrow and hunger, left you without a guide or caretaker until you ravaged the area, leaving only blood and rubble in your devastation.

But he’s here now, picking you up from the mess you found yourself in, a storm of smoke and thick black that you hid yourself in, to hide the monster you had become. He might not be proud of who he’s become - much like you - but he grew into it, lived his life as one, and he would be here to help you through the process of it. Where he wished he had a helping hand, you would have his. He would help you with your hunger, the famine that grew the more you left it alone, filling your being with bodies he’d gather up for you to absorb. He would teach you how to control the smoke - the sinews of your being, the consistence of it forming your figure - and build from it, stopping yourself from phasing to and from it, staying as a physical manifestation of it rather than darkness itself.

Where he felt lost and confused, alone and wishing for a swift end, you wouldn’t, he made sure to stay, to be the pillar of support for you whenever you crashed, his body covering yours to stop you from vanishing in a fit of tears. Where he spent time hating himself, demeaning the cannibalism he became, you wouldn’t, he’d rather send himself to hell than let you think you were the lowest of the low, a human eating another. And where he was cruel to himself when death had renounced him, you wouldn’t, he’d whisper the sweetest words, praises, compliments, affection and guidance, he would make sure you wouldn’t drown alone like he did years ago. He loved you too much to let that happen.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #monster 141 au #monster cod au #monster 141 #wraith!reader #tw death #ansgt #fluff #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #tw: torture

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peachesofteal · 7 months

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Dead Disco / Chapter 13

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ brief sexual content. This fic contains mature themes. Simon POV. Established throuple, relationship issues, fighting. Feelings of anxiety, despair. Crying. Johnny comes home

The holster is snug.

Simon pats it affectionately, swallowing roaring nausea, trying to stay limber on his feet.

He’s fine. He’s probably just at the gym, or the down the street. He’s a big boy, he can take care of himself, he's working himself up for nothing.

He sends another text, just in case.

>Getting worried now. Where are you?

It’s not like him, not responding. Not like him to vanish when he said he was staying in, not like him to not text with an update about where he’s going and how long he’ll be.

He knows Simon. Knows he he’ll get twisted up, get caught up in a vicious cycle of memory and fear, knows he’ll be worried.

Doesn’t he know?

It’s not like him.

What if he’s hurt? What if someone snatched him, drugged him, loaded him into a box somewhere? What if someone is hurting him right now, and he’s scared, while all Simon is doing is pacing around in this godforsaken flat that’s too big for him to be comfortable in alone, what if he’s de-

A key clicks in the lock.

Simon is on his feet and in the hall before the door gets a chance to fully open.

He can hear his pulse, the hammer inside his skull, ticking away like a bomb, a new brand of fear: sickly and infectious, spreads from his heart, leeching into his body.

Johnny is crying.

“What’s wrong?” Simon keeps him at arm’s length for inspection, like he's looking him over in tac gear, triple checking his plates, his straps, his safety pieces. “Are you hurt? What’s happened?” Johnny doesn’t speak, raw, serrated breaths coming in and out too quickly, and Simon holds him steady, firm grip on his shoulders. “Johnny, love. Look at me.”

Control this. Contain it. Fix it.

“I-m- I-“ The words are stilted, too thick, getting caught in Johnny’s throat, and Simon repeats himself, switching gears, shifting. His tone is stronger, unaffected. Battle tested.

“Are you hurt?” It straightens Johnny. Snaps him to attention, and he blinks, still the beautiful, sweet boy with tears in his eyes, looking up in Simon’s face, wracked with despair.

“No. No, ‘m, not hurt, Si. Not hurt.”

Not hurt. But not okay.

He can save that for another moment. Another day if he has to. He’s okay. He came back. He’s here.

Johnny’s eyes dive a deeper shade of blue when he cries. They become shards of stained glass, a sea blue that holds a million miles worth of passion, of feeling, of love.

Their mouths touch. Seeking, hesitant longing, desperately trying to connect, and Simon jerks away, cradling his face, holding him still.

It’s dread that fills Simon now. Dread and fear, snaking together to form a hydra that never sleeps, never dies. You cut off one head, another two emerge, and he cannot control them. Cannot tamp them down.

“What’s happened, love? What’s wrong?”

“Si, I… I made a mistake.” Simon closes his eyes.

“What did you do?” It’s not a question, it’s a demand.

Confess your sins and be forgiven.

“I went to see her.”

It’s worse than what he was expecting. Far worse.

He splits in two.

“You what?” The words sound far less devastated than he feels. “You… what?”

“I went, I know I wasnae supposed to, but I had to see her.” Simon steps away. He releases his partner, the man he loves, and looks at him through the eyes of a stranger. “I havnae been sleepin’ I cannae eat, or focus, and I know ye’ve been havin’ an easier time-“

“Stop.” An easier time? Is he really that blind? “You think this has been easy for me?”

“N-no, I didnae mean-“

“You think I’m alright, when our girl…” He bites his tongue.

Control.

“I’m not having an easier time, Johnny.”

“I made a mistake.” He whispers to the floor, and sympathy, love, cracks Simon’s heart, just a little. He’s been having such a rough go, Simon knows. Struggling. Depressed. And nothing can fix it, not Simon or anything else in this world except… you.

He reaches, but Johnny steps out of his grasp, eyes wide.

“I… I made a mistake, Si.”

“I know, but it’s okay, we can-“

“We had sex.”

Everything changes. The floor disappears beneath his feet. His knees go weak, watery, and he steps away. A chainsaw tears through his diaphragm, blood and guts dropping to the floor.

“You what?”

“I didnae plan to, it just… it just happened.” Simon closes his eyes. He struggles for air, a thousand pounds sat on his chest. “She was cryin’ and then we just… we lost control. I didnae even realize what was happening at first, and then she asked me to kiss her and I couldnae say no, Si. Ye know I… it just-“

“Stop.”

“She needed me, needs us, wanted to, and I-“

“STOP!” He shouts, and Johnny jerks back, eyes wide.

“Simon.” He reaches, but it’s too late. Simon is already stepping out of reach. An ocean of despair, sadness, rage tosses him in a turbulent wave, knocking him side to side, stealing his breath. Agony wails between his ears.

“Don’t touch me right now.” How could he do this? Betray you like this? When you’re vulnerable?

He knows why. His next words are a poison barb, aimed straight at the heart of the man he loves.

“You’re weak.”

“Si.” Johnny’s voice cracks, face soaked with tears. He calls his name again and again, but Simon hears nothing, broken vibrato bouncing off his back as he turns away, locking himself in the bedroom.

“So, you want to do this. For real.” You’re so skeptical. Still. A battle never won but fought every day. You chew on your lip, hesitance heavy in your eyes. “With me.”

“Aye, darling. With ye.” Johnny sucks a mark into your neck, hands roaming across your chest. You wriggle between them, uneasily laughing, huffing and pushing at him, still overstimulated and coming down from too many orgasms to count. They pushed you to the limit tonight, twisted you between them and bent you under their bodies, filled you at the same time. He can still feel the clench of your cunt around his cock, your warmth engulfing him, setting him aflame. “Is it so hard to believe?”

“Yes.” Your answer is immediate, and Johnny rolls his eyes. You glance at Simon.

He wants to rip away all your layers. Burrow between your heart and ribs. Remake you in an image of love, help you feel confident in their affection, their near obsession with you.

“We know it will take time.” He murmurs, stroking a hand across the back of your neck when you push up onto your elbows. “We know this is a lot, and it won’t be easy, but we can make it work. If you give us a chance.” Tears line your lashes. You try to look away, but he holds you steady, refusing to let you hide.

“I’m scared.” You whisper.

“I know.”

He thinks about calling you. What’s a phone call, in the face of such a boundary broken already? He wonders for a moment, if you’re okay, before his stomach tightens, realizing that Johnny left you there, alone.

Did you tell him to leave? Did he run home afterwards, worried? Did he hold you, make sure you’re okay, kiss you and tell you how much they love you?

He aches for violence. Wants to destroy this room, it’s walls, this place they tried to build around you.

The bed is too big now. The flat is empty. He feels the hollowness left in your wake everywhere, in the bathroom, missing your shampoo and toothbrush, the closet, lacking most of your clothes. The comforter has been replaced with a tired bedsheet and a blanket from the couch, a quarter of the pillows that are usually piled in the middle, missing.

It’s not his home. Not without you.

He eyes his phone.

He shouldn’t.

Why is he being punished, for doing the right thing? For listening to you, when you begged them to understand this is what you needed. Why is he the one in hell, when Johnny gets to drink his fill?

He doesn’t understand. How could he have gotten this so wrong?

Is this what you wanted all along? For them to come, pluck you from your escape back into their arms?

He looks at his phone again. The black screen taunts him, begs him, tells him it’s alright. It will be okay if he does it. If he breaks.

What kind of man is he, if he can’t respect what you need?

Johnny knocks on the door.

“Ye cannae shut me out.” It’s reminiscent of not too long ago, when Simon was on the other side of a different door, begging to see your face, dying to hear your voice.

“Johnny.” He croaks. His own cheeks are wet now, tears dripping down his jaw to his shirt.

“Simon, please.”

“I can’t see you right now.”

“I cannae let ye-“

“If you love me,” He raises his voice, not quite a shout, but something awful instead, a low pitch of anger. “You’ll leave me alone.” He can’t even look at him right now, can’t understand why he did this. Why he acted so callously, so selfishly. Simon hates himself, for thinking it, for allowing this anger to fester but he can’t feel anything else when he thinks about his sweet boy on the other side of that door, crying out for him. He’s so angry. He reaches for his phone. The impulse is too strong, the pain and want and the fear of not knowing if you’re okay eating away at him until he’s tapping your contact open.

The phone rings three times. On the fourth, the line clicks open, and he holds his breath.

“Simon?” You’re crying. It’s in your voice, thick with it, trembling across the connection with an intensity that could crack the earth.

“Darling.”

“It’s not ideal-“

“Not ideal? It’s… it’s about to be Christmas.” You take a ragged breath, and Simon’s heart aches. “You just got home.”

“Ah know love, but we cannae control when we’re needed. Ye know this.”

“We’ll try to be home before Christmas.” He has to stem this bleeding somehow, patch this wound. He wants to take you in his arms, bury his face in your hair and promise you a million things he knows he can’t.

“It’s fine.” It’s not. And neither are you. But you’re shoving it away, pushing it down where it will stay buried, building and building inside you like a storm, a wild thing that will drive you to the brink.

“Darling.” He tries to grab you, hold onto you, make you stay near him, where he can hold you, where he can try to fix it.

It’s not fair. None of it is. And never will be. Not for you.

“I’m fine.”

“We don’t want to be away from you, you know that.” You focus on the dishwasher, but your hands tremble, small tremors that signify an earthquake on the horizon.

“I know. It’s fine.”

“Darling.” You ignore him, focusing on the silverware draw, tugging on the handle. “Darling, please.”

Johnny flinches when it crashes to the floor. There’s agony in your face, pain and disappointment, and he hates himself for it, hates this job, hates this life they brought you into.

You break with a sob.

“Fuck! Fff-fuck. I’m so-sorry.” You try to turn away, to run, but he meets you, pulling you into his chest, reaching for the back of your neck with a steady hand. You’re crying so hard he’s worried you can’t breathe.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. We’re here.” For now. We’re here for now. He can’t give you much more, even though he’d give you both the world. You and Johnny, tucked away in secret, forever his. To hold. To love. “It’s okay, darling.” You cry and cry, sobs shaking your shoulders.

It’s not going to end on its own. And why should it? They’re the ones who do this to you. They are the ones who have to fix it.

Control it.

“Bedroom lights.” He directs Johnny with a glance.

“Rog.”

“The mess.” You whimper, and he shakes his head, still holding you firmly.

“We’ll clean it up later, darling. Let’s take care of you first.”

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m calling.” He’s spiraling. Unmoored. Uncontrolled.

“It’s… it’s okay.” You stifle a sob, and he wants to rip his hair from his roots.

“Are you okay? That’s all…” He pulls away from the phone to take a short breath, trying to breathe through his nose. “That’s all I needed to know, if you’re okay.”

“I’m…” You go quiet, and he doesn’t push. Doesn’t want to. He goes at your pace, letting you control everything now, just as he has been for this last month. “I’m not okay.”

His heart freezes in his chest.

“Did you call your therapist?”

“No.” You cry, and he pinches his brow.

“What do you need?” The pattern on the carpet is a dizzying spiral, swirls of brown and tan spinning around him, drawing him down until he’s sitting with his back against the bed. When you don’t speak, he tries, just a little, to pull it from you. “Tell me darling.”

Y-you. I need… you.”

#dead disco #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #john mactavish #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #ghost x soap #soap x reader

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tender-rosiey · 6 months

Note

hi hii (　；∀；) since its geto suguru's birthday today (03 february), could i pretty please with a cherry ontop kindly request something about it? can be suggestive or fluffy!!! bonus points if satoru's teasing him all the way through because we love an annoying bestfriend

in bloom — geto suguru x gn!reader

a/n: what’s with me writing hurt/comfort for characters’ bdays—forgive me anon, but I have decided to make him suffer a little first 🙏 and hey I am late again but what’s new 🧍‍♀️

suguru wouldn’t exactly call himself someone who views the world in a poetic way.

he doesn’t concern himself with the meaning of the sun’s particular position behind the clouds today or the darkness of the sky that seems to mesh with the rays of the sunset.

it all seems a little too complicated for his liking.

nature is to be loved, of course, he thinks, but he just isn’t the type to go into details about it.

he just lets out a small hum of appreciation and a thankful sigh about yet another day accompanied with a good weather and a sun that doesn’t burn his skin but warms it just right.

that’s enough he thinks.

but right now? he sure hoped that nature was the topic that occupied his mind instead of the incessant sound of clapping.

it plays on a loop, and when he thinks that it stopped—even for a second—he starts hearing it in the rhythm of anything around him.

he wants to rid himself of all this misery and being sentenced to relive this event in every time of the day. he desperately wants to forget it all, but he halts.

wouldn’t forgetting it disrespect those who have passed? disrespect the tears and blood spilled? disrespect the pain that his best friend had to go through alongside him?

wouldn’t mean that he is treating the friends who died along the way as a burden that he needs to dispose of? but if forgetting is disrespectful then the remembrance is devastative.

what does he do? does he act on it? does he forget it or not? or does he tried to find a solution, a way to rid everyone of this burden—but then he halts yet again. it feels too much. it is too much.

so he does what he thinks is best and he pushes it aside, neither forgetting or remembering it endlessly—as much as he can.

a bit of time passes, summer bursts through the door, and he has never hated it so much.

the sun is scathing to his skin, and the sweat makes him feel disgusting like those in the star plasma group. but the shower is a place that he fear? hates? despises? loathes?

the shower head never failed to let out drops in a rhythm that wickedly mirrored that of the claps of the people in that cult.

he notices the worried glances of his friends—those he sees anyway—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—satoru. still, he feels suffocated, and he keeps wondering just what will set him free from all of this.

in what form will salvation come in?

it came discreetly, that’s what he knows, but he doesn’t know when.

he doesn’t know when he started to seek the sun’s heat more, the darkness’ quietness, or the fields behind his school, especially the fields behind the school. flowers are nice, but what role do they play?

they simply just exist. they do nothing effective to help him with solving his inner turmoil, so why does he sit in the field, gently playing with the petals of an iris?

it’s a lot of questions. he knows. he is also searching for answers.

and salvation? he doesn’t expect it to come in the form of you.

he doesn’t know when you made your way into his heart, and he knows that he started looking forward to your “good morning, geto!” to transform into a “good morning, suguru?”

maybe because he cared about you, but why does he do that? then he remembers some stuff. they’re minor, but they are what he remembers at the moment, and he thinks they’re enough.

he remembers the worried glances of his friends—you—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—you then satoru.

he starts to remember how you followed him and never left him to his thoughts, always considerate of his feelings and asking him to convey what he truly wanted.

like that one time you going to buy meals for everyone. after you asked everyone their preferences, you went to him—leaving him for last and at the time, he remembers feeling a little offended because why?

you asked the same question that you asked to everyone, “what would you like to eat?”

and he replied with his constant at that time, “i am not that hungry, but satoru probably wants something sweet so you can get him kikufuku.”

“I already asked gojo what he wants. what do you want to eat?”

he stills for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. you roll your eyes with a smile, ignoring his malfunctioning, and ask him something else, “what’s your favorite food?”

he blinks before murmuring softly, “zaru soba.”

“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you smile and ruffle his before running away yelling, “the best zaru soba is on the way!”

in that moment, he couldn’t help softening his expression and the small smile that appeared.

another thing that he had assumed is that this journey through these thoughts would be a solo one.

last thing he expected was you dragging him out to the roof of the school before asking him right away, “what’s on your mind?”

he resists. it’s not your burden to shoulder, and, frankly, it’s none of your business, so why should he tell you?

so he doesn’t and replies lightly, “nothing.”

for some reason, when your expression becomes ridden with sympathy and sadness and your hands gently hold his own, he feels something.

your thumb rubs his hand soothingly as you murmur, “it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything just—“ you take a deep breath “—just know that I am here for you, and I am trying to understand—“

“why?”

your eyes travel to his face, and he is barely keeping it together.

“why did she have to go through that? why were they delighted in her deaths?”

you listened to all his questions and thought of answers together. words never stopped flowing from him, and you never stopped indulging him. he remembers that first ray of sun that hit his eyes.

he had been spilling his emotions till sunrise, and you stayed. you weren’t talking to him like he is crazy either. you discussed it through and through.

you stayed, and you were trying to understand.

then he figures out that you frequent the fields behind the school. you tell him that you go there because sometimes you just need a break from everything that surrounds jujutsu and the school itself.

he finds himself agreeing that, yes, sometimes we need a break.

at some point, he finds himself going there with you. the two of you talked about anything, not just the thoughts that plagued his mind (plagued?).

satoru bugs him about where he goes after school, but he tells him nothing. he feels that letting the secret of the fields being known by anyone other than you two makes it lose something to him.

gradually, he starts going there before you. while he waits, he finds himself thinking about how the sky is brighter nowadays. maybe it’s the seasons or some kind science stuff that satoru is into.

he laughs off the thought then he begins to see your figure approaching the field, slowly but surely.

he takes in your shocked face then the smile that creeps up your face. suddenly, the sun shone brighter, but a small breeze kept him cool.

that’s when he realized that spring has entered, and the daffodils are finally in bloom.

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do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #suguru x reader #suguru x y/n #suguru x you #jjk x y/n #jjk geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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somerandomdudelmao · 1 year

Note

Explaining this comic to people is WILD.

Because first you've got to explain the Rise show, the first five minutes of the Rise movie, the fandom's angsty reactions to the movie (devastating fanfics exploring how Raph and Donnie died, Leo's guilt, Mikey's powers, Casey's headcanoned relationships with all of them), and how out of all the fan comics, one rose to be renowned for it's wacky shenanigans and fluff despite being set in the Bad Future.

And THEN you need to go into detail about how it may be fluffy, but there were 'Little Things'TM that we all the sudden started to notice. So by that point the clueless person you are educating on this is invested, and ya hit em with the ol' "Donnie DIES" explanation.

AND THEN you've gotta talk about how 'everything is falling apart'TM, and then Casey going back in time, missing his family, etc etc.

But WHOOPS now you have to explain memory spells and Hamato Ghost Possession and Donnie's pre-existing plans to cheat death for him being brought back to make sense.

So THEN you've gotta explain how much Raph missed not being a robot as you tearfully talk about Hot Soup.

And if course you need to talk about the twin sense and Leo's ninpo and Mikey's magic and all that before finally taking a breath to say "and that's all we've got so far".

And now there is a person who COULD NOT CARE LESS ABOUT TURTLES who is now forcibly invested in Cass's Apocalyptic Series.

(oh yeah after that you've gotta show said person ALL of Tap's animatics)

Like I said, explaining this comic to people is WILD.

YOU'RE SO DAMN RIGHT HAHA

Not gonna lie, one of my favorite things is reading reblogs/replies from people who are like "I showed this comic to my friend/sibling/important person outside of the fandom and documented their step-by-step descent into desperate confusion diluted with laughs and tears."

Good food. Interesting plot. 100% rate on Rotten tomatoes👍

#my mom: so...what is this about?#me: oh..well..these are four mutants and their human adopted son. In the apocalypse #My mom: Cute. I guess. What is the story?#Me: huuuuuuuuuhhhh...you gonna regret this question

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clare-875 · 1 month

Text

Not You (Levi x Reader)

_____

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader Summary: Levi has a nightmare that he loses you and he doesn't handle it well Warnings: angst, fluff, descriptions of blood and death, reverse comfort Note: The above image does NOT belong to me [AOT Masterlist]

_____

It was one scream. Piercing and sharp as it rang through the air, but Levi knew instantly who it was. His heart rate picks up, pure panic reaching the depths of his mind, prompting the movement of his body as he runs. His eyes dart around him but all he sees is darkness. Where were you? Another scream echoes through space threatening hysteria. His body moves, it had come from his right. He runs faster, sweat drenching his form. His limbs are heavy, as though he trudged through mud. His mind was pacing, pushing away the thoughts of the worst. He curses the way he seems to have forgotten something as simple as movement as it feels like eons until he catches a glimpse of a struggling shadow. His breath gets caught in his throat, his feet now stuck to the ground by some invisible chain that he can't wretch free of. His heart races so fast he can now scarcely breathe and he doesn't know how to escape the oncoming terror.

"LEVI!!" Your voice is shrill pushing through the restraints of your panic and pain. It seeps through the sobs that rake through your body, it drips with fear and dread, just like the blood that pours from you. Crimson adorns your figure; it's all Levi can see. It falls from your hands that try to pry away from the Titan you are in the hold of, it falls from your temple seeping into the white of your eyes, it breaks from your skin under the weight of its hold. Your gaze is frantic, panic-driven; it's horror. "[y-y/n]?" Levi's voice is lost in the phobia that fills him. His breath shakes and stutters as he tries to move, but again he fails. Why why why why. It's all that fills him, the same words on his mind. Why were you here? Why were you dying; he had sworn to keep you safe. Why can't he move? "L-LEVI, PLEASE-!!" Your voice is helpless under the weight of your oncoming demise as it pleads him to move. He tries. He has never tried so hard to get his slack limbs to move as much as he did now. He tries to push against the agony and restraint and yet nothing.

"[Y-Y/N]!!"

His voice is a roar across space as your eyes look at him in pure devastation. "W-why, why won't you save me?" Levi's heart drops to the floor at your utter devastation and the sobs that lace your words. The heavy feeling of your voiced disappointment churns in his chest. No. "I-" Levi tries to speak once more but now it feels as though the restraints on his form have gagged him of speech. No. God please no. "You said you'd save me, you promised-" Your voice is interrupted by another agonising scream that has Levi losing his mind. He struggles to connect his mind to his body and yet no matter how much he cries in silence there is no movement. Levi feels hot tears of pure panic reach the rims of his eyes, threatening to break free as he bears witness to the series of events he has seen too often in his life. But not you, please not you. "L-Levi," His eyes are forced upon a sight he wished he died before he'd see. The Titan evidently has had enough of its malice as it squeezes hard against your form, causing your body to collapse under the hold. In the silence the final wheeze of your voice, "Save me."

Levi's gasps are erratic as his eyes shoot open meeting darkness. His confused state is dangerously out of control as he grasps at the bed sheets beneath him for stability, squeezing them so tight he almost tears it. His mind reels trying to catch up to reality, but the events of what has happened in his mind are still eerily sure in his head. He tries to control his hysteric state, pushing his hands into his face breathing shortly before trying to slow them down. Was it real? Please no. No no no no... Levi's hand has never darted so quickly to the figure that should be beside him; beside him asleep. Only, his hand meets a coolness that has his heart jolting harshly in his chest. His eyes dart to his side, gaze wide, mind frantic. When he sees that no one is there, that you aren't there, that's when he loses it, he is lost in hysteria.

Levi flies out from his bed unstable, eyes darting in the darkness of the room. His voice is lost within him out of fear at the lack of response he might find. He turns on the lamps in the room to see the empty space around him, he moves quick across your shared bedroom ripping open doors and racing across space. "[y-y/n]" His voice is breathless, barely heard as he unsteadily rushes across the rooms. He checks the office, he checks the bathroom, he checks every crevice no matter how stupid it might be. He needs to. He needs you to be alive; to be here. "[y/n]!" His voice is louder now but is met with silence. The only response that reaches him now is the dwindling remembrance of your voice; your words. "You promised me." Levi shakes his head, hand raking through his locks harshly. "Please." Levi goes for the door handle, intent on ripping apart headquarters to find you, to prove he hadn't failed you. "Save me." Tears threaten him as he goes to open the door only for it to open abruptly.

It revealed you.

You look up in surprise, having got yourself something quick to drink in the middle of the night from the kitchen. It had been a long internal debate; you knowing the effects of PTSD upon both of you. It brought horrendous nightmares, ones that had you questioning your reality; your sanity. But Levi had finally seemed to be asleep long and well enough for you to slip briefly from the bed beside him so you could quench your thirst. Evidently, you were wrong. Levi looks at you in shock, rigid form and tears lingering in his eyes. He looks tense, more than you have ever seen; as though one wrong move might cause devastation. You find yourself rigid as your eyes turn behind him to where the room you had left is now pulled apart as though there was a struggle. Your gaze meets your lover once more as your mind connects the dots.

You move forward hesitantly. "Levi?" He turns to you then, finally breaking free of the turmoil he had faced in such a short period of time. You move forward seeing the shock, the dread, the relief pouring from him. You reach out gently and he instantly responds to your touch as you hold him against you and he puts his arms tight around your form. His hands shake subtly but his embrace is taut and you let him be. He lets himself breathe. He lets himself catch up to reality. He begs to whatever being is up there, that they don't take you away from him. You stay there for long moments, him just matching your breathing, inhaling your sweet scent and losing himself in the soft caress of your touch. Him, gripping onto his sanity.

"Levi?" You say softly once you have stayed in his tight embrace for several long moments. You feel his limbs slowly start to slack as he releases you of his form, but barely lets you an inch out of his grasp. "Are you okay?" Levi can barely look up to you as you meet his shadowed gaze. "I'm sorry, I just went to get something to drink. I didn't think- What happened?" Levi's hand is within your own as you squeeze it gently, hoping to provide some comfort to his blatant pain. Levi's voice shakes but drips of grief and exhaustion as he speaks to you. "Just don't- don't die... not you." You look up at his defeated form, so uncharacteristically vulnerable, so utterly embodied by the emotions you know he tries so hard to hide. You pull him to the couch in the room as you sit beside each other. "I won't."

The both of you know that there was no truth to your words. Anyone could die when beyond the walls; it seemed death would come even when you were within them. But Levi allowed the contentment of your words to seep within him. He allowed your hands to gently caress his raven locks and allowed the warmth of your body to bring him back to his reality. He pushed away the lingering words you spoke to him in the depths of his dreams: the disappointment, the echoing screams. He never told you all of what happened in his nightmare but you could guess well enough. You found all the answers you would need in the way he muttered under his breath until the morning sun shone past the far-off horizon.

"Not you..."

#levi x y/n #levi ackerman #levixreader #levi aot #levi x reader #captain levi #aot x reader #x reader #fem reader #reader insert #aot #angst to fluff #reverse comfort #anime x reader

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thisonehere · 2 months

Text

A Match Made In Hell

Cheating!Bi-Han x Reader

A/n: This was a lot more late than I wanted it to be but I'm glad I finally got it done. I love Bi-Han but this idea was just constantly in my head so I just had to write about it.

Edit: Part 2

Tags: MK 1, MK AU, cheating, drabble

C/w: Cheating, angst, mentions of sex, Y/n kinda snaps, sad ending

Today was the day, Bi-Han was finally coming home. You buzzed happily before your vanity, carefully analyzing every feature of your face. You admire the flowers that you delicately braided into your hair. They were from your garden, you planted them with the intention of wearing them the day Bi-Han finally returned to you.

Unbeknownst to Liu Kang, Bi-Han has been very active in building a place for the Lin Kuei in the new world. He has been leaving many times to create alliances, defeating enemies, collecting power for his clan to prosper. Bi-Han felt discontent with the role they had played for the longest, he once even said that they were basically Liu Kang's lap dogs.

The moment when he used his men as test dummies for those two farmers and an actor was the final straw for him. You remember how he was that night, he was in such a state of fury and devastation that you consoled him for hours. The next day he gathered up a small group of trusted Lin Kuei and went somewhere in secret. He then came back with allies and new resources. It's been like that ever since.

You hated it when he left, especially now, this is the longest he had been gone. You were alone many nights in your shared bed missing him, wondering if he was thinking about you like you were thinking about him, missing you like you missed him. Whenever he was gone, you would go to Kuai and Tomas for support. But no, He had taken them along as well, much to their protest.

You were so scared so many times, you feared that the last you would ever see him sad when he left, he dodged and planted a kiss on your forehead, promising to come back to you. It had been months since that day had passed, so many were you scared that you would receive news that something happened to him, that he had died. Out of respect to you, she had called you to her office to be the first to receive the news.

Thankfully that sooner ended when Sektor had announced that not only was Bi-Han alive, he had also successfully created a major alliance with a strange clan from the Netherrealm, the sisterhood of shadow led by someone known as Quan Chi. Bi-Han had sent her a letter describing it all, he specifically brought one of the members, a demoness known Sareena. He brought her up quite a few times, whenever he did he spoke adamantly about her, almost praising her, which was odd because that wasn't something Bi-Han ever really did.

But you didn't think about it much, you were so overjoyed to hear this, to know that your husband was safe and coming home. You bursted into tears of joy and relief right there, it was embarrassing but you couldn't care at that second. Ever since then you have been excitedly preparing for Bi-Han's I'd return. You acquired his favorite tea to serve him, you baked his favorite pastries to feed him, you pressed and ironed the dress you knew he loved. Now the day was here, you were practically shaking with excitement to see him again.

Once you were satisfied with how you looked, you leaned back into youu chair, rested your eyes, and fantasized about the moment Bi-Han would walk through the door. The way he takes you into his arms and kiss passionately, then you'd stay up all night so you could show him just how much you missed him. You could hardly wait.

You were soon snapped out of your daydreaming when you heard something outside, the deafening roar of thousands cheering. You knew that meant one thing: Bi-Han was finally here.

...

Thousands of Lin Kuei gathered around the main entrance to welcome Bi-Han. They roared deafening cheers as their Grandmasters led the procession of his group through the crowd. His heart swelled with pride and so many gathered to welcome him home. It was a welcome one too, this journey was the most periless one he has faced yet, but it was also the most rewarding. He acquired very powerful assets in this journey.

There’s one specifically that valued most of all.

He looked behind him to look for them, and he was met with the unhappy looks of disapproval painted his brothers face. Not much to Bi-Han’s surprise, his brothers have been against what he has been doing for the longest. They have fought and protested every step of the way. Venturing into the Netherrealm caused the worst one yet.

"This is Insanity!" He remembered Tomas protesting, they were standing before a portal to the Netherrealm. Kuai and Tomas were trying their hardest to convince not to do this. "No, this is necessary, for our clans future." Bi-Han said. He attempted to approach the ort but Kuai blocked his path. "Our future is with Liu Kang and serving Earthrealm. Not this, not joining hands with devils."

Bi-Han just stared at Kuai and shook his head disbelief, "Serve? The Lin Kuei aren't servants, we're warriors. Liu Kang squanders our potential, uses us to play his trivial games and puts us back on the shelf when he is done with us, forbidding us from growing, stifling our true potential. We must make a deal with demons to finally reach it...then so be it" It is so good for Bi-Han to finally say this, for so long he had kept his thoughts inside, but the past successes in obtaining allies emboldened him to speak freely.

Kuai stared at him in disbelief, he looked at his brother like he was a stranger. Bi-Han pushed past him and to the portal.

And now here they are, the mission was a success and now his warriors celebrated him. Bi-Han tried to look past his brothers for his special guest, but he did not see it, he turned forward to continue his walk with his men. He scanned the celebration about him. So many happy faces celebrating him, a slight smile spread across his face. But then notices some people in the crowd begin part as he passes, making way for someone so that they could though. Bi-Han's smile quickly fades who they were making way for...you.

You were standing in his favorite dress, your hair done just the way he likes with flowers in them. You smile at him, tears of joy begin to well up in your eyes. At that second, everything came back to Bi-Han, he remembered you, his marriage to you, how you adored him...how he betrayed you.

You looked so beautiful, it hurtled Bi-Han to look at you after all he has done while he was away.

So he didn't look at you, he avoided eye contact and sped up his pace. You were no doubt hurt by this, the image of your sad and confused face flashed in Bi-Han's head, causing him to go even faster. He drowned you out with sound the thousands cheering for him.

...

W-What was that?

As part of the celebration, a banquet was to be held in Bi-Han's honor this evening. They were all celebrating, drinking until they blacked out drunk and chattering until throats hurt, and you outside tried not to freak out. Bi-Han looked away from you like you were nothing, not his wife who has been by his side for years, but like just another one of his nameless Lin Kuei. You were pacing the floor, outside the entrance to the Banquet.

Were you just overreacting? Maybe, Bi-Han would never purposely ignore you or do anything to hurt you... r-right? You feel silly right now, every one is having a good time inside and you're here overthinking something that's not even that big of a deal. It just hurts though, you have spent so many nights alone, longing for him, missing him so much that it hurt, only for him to not even send you a loving smile then he comes home.

Maybe he's just tired, he did travel a long way after dealing with a long and stressful journey. That's right, he was tired you are just overreacting. That's what you are desperately trying to convince yourself, but deep down inside a feeling won't relent its protest. It's trying to tell you that something's wrong, deeper and deeper do you try to suppress. But it's still so loud.

Something's wrong... Something is very wrong.

"Y-Y/n?"

You hear a gentle voice behind you. Part of you wishes it was Bi-Han. But when you turn around you are met with Tomas's gentle smile. It's not Bi-Han, but you are happy to see his face nonetheless. "Welcome back, Tomi, I missed you" You warmly embrace Tomas, he returns your embrace with a similar joy. You and him were very close. Whenever Bi-Han was cold or too harsh to him, there you were with cookies and a loving smile. He was like a brother to you, seeing him makes you almost forget all about your worries. "Did you grow while you were away?" You jokingly ask, trying your best to mask the pain and worry. "Not at all...but I fear you might've shrunk." Tomas jokes back at you with a light chuckle. Seeing him brings you an ease that had evaded you for so long, you missed his smile, you missed his laugh, you missed... Bi-Han...

Suddenly all the pain and confusion washes over you again. "I noticed you weren't at the banquet, you were still out here, so I wanted to see if everything was alright." Tomas gave you a concerned yet knowing look, causing you fear that he somehow knew what you were going through. "I-I'm okay, I just-uh-had a few duties to attend to before I joined you." You lied, you forced a smile on your face. But you could just tell by the way Tomas looks at you that he knew that you weren't okay. Something flashes past his eyes, guilt. As if he knows something and hea feels sorry for keeping it this long. An uncomfortable silence passed between you two, it was like there was an elephant in the room that had yet to be addressed.

"So how was the trip." You finally say. "Well, I went to hell so.." you softly chuckled as you blush in embarrassment. "Right, sorry. How was hell? Wait, don't tell me, I don't want to know." Tomas paused as he thought for a second. "Imagine everything horrible you can think of, everything that scares you, your worst fears and insecurities...and multiply that by the highest number you can think of."

"Uh...okay, say no more. I'm happy that you're back."

Tomas smiles in agreement. Once again you notice a look on his face, like there's something he wanted to tell you but he didn't know how. "Y/n...there's something I need to tell you. Something that happened while we were away. It's about Bi-Han."

"There you two are." A drunk Kuai interrupted as he exited the banquet and ran up to hug you. He was warm like always, with a smile on his face as he greeted you. I smiled, it felt nice for them to be back. But you wanted to hear what Tomas was going to say. What happened with Bi-Han? Oh gods, did something happen to him? Did someone hurt him? But you don't have time to wonder as Kuai guides you inside. Tomas lowers his head in shame at not telling you.

...

The event was in full swing, Kuai guided you through the chaotic mass of Lin Kuei drinking conversing which created a meat deafening cacophony of crude jokes, gossiping, and cheering. After he got you past a drunk Sektor and Cyrax, you finally got to you table. The table with Bi-Han.

As grandmaster, his was the biggest of all of them, decked with precious ornaments and decoration made from the purest gold and decorated with diamonds. "Only the finest for our grandmaster." You all agreed when setting this all up. You remember how much care you put in placing every decoration and how you slaved away in the kitchen to make his favorite cake. Bi-Han often insisted that he hated cake, but he never hesitated in taking a slice whenever you baked it. You wanted this celebration to be special, you thought of him with every step of the way.

Now there he was, sitting at the center of the table, drinking the wine you chose just for hims . At the sight of him it felt like everything froze, you forgot Kuai was there, you forgot everyone in the room. You stared nervously at him as you approached. It's odd, after all these years the man still makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. "Husband." Bi-Han froze at the sound of your voice. He looks up to you, your heart nearly melts the sight of his dark eyes as he stares you down. You can't read if he is surprised to see you or it's dread

"Wife." He finally said, a hint of longing can be sensed in his voice as he rose to his feet. He gently places a hand in your cheek as he looks into your eyes. "I... I have missed you dearly." You fight as you feel the grandmaster's touch, it had been something you have been deprived of for so long. A few years begin to escape your eyes as your lips spread into a smile. "Bi-Han, I have missed you too. I missed you so much I-I" he shushes you and kisses your forehead. He then tales you into his arms and holds you. That's not something he usually does, especially in public, it was almost like he was feeling guilty of something. But you didn't care. Everything felt right right now, you forgot all about your ridiculous worries from earlier. Everything is fine now, everything is jus-

"Bi-Han?"

You hear an unfamiliar voice behind you. Bi-ha lets you go as quickly as this new voice immediately takes his attention. You turn to see who is speaking, and you are a strange woman with white streaks going down her black hair. She stares at Bi-Han that at you curiously. Her black eyes especially linger on you for some time, like she was trying to make sense of you. "Yes, Y/n, this is Sareena. Sareena, this is Y/n...my wife." You and Sareena's eyes meet for a second, you look her up and down and she looks you up and down. Neither of you know of what to make of the other.

Finally, you force a smile onto you face "Sareena...so you're the sareena that I've heard so much about." You say as you hug her, much to Bi-Han and her surprise. You take in her scent, it's something unearthly yet familiar... familiar as in you smelt it on Bi-Han as you hugged him. You release from your hug as you continue to smile, that small part of you started screaming louder and louder that something was wrong, and you began to listen to it more and more.

"It's so nice to meet the infamous Sareena, the devil that has captivated my husband so." you continue to smile, and Sareena smiles at you too. Bi-Han is quick to cut in between you two "Sareena has been a most valuable asset in my venture. She helped me travel through the Netherrealm and make my deal with Quan Chi. She has been by my side ever since." Bi-Han smiled at Sareena...He SMILED at Sareena! That's something he has hardly ever done. He has never smiled at you, in public at least. The more that you think of it actually, you don't ever really remember Bi-Han smiling that much at all. A ugly feeling arises inside of you, you can't describe it. It just feels so ugly hateful, but you continue to smile.

The night went, you didn't touch your plate, you didn't drink, all you could was sit there and stare blankly into the distance. Sometimes Kuai or Tomas would try to strike a conversation with you. You replied with short answers, quickly ending them. And Bi-Han? Your husband whom you thought you'd be smiling and laughing with all night? Oh, he was completely enthralled with his demon friend. He smiled at her, laughed with her,he seemed to be all over her. You sat there helplessly as you watched them, not sure exactly what to do. You just kept smiling.

...

Sareena arose from her chair, "I need to, um, relieve myself." She lied as she walked away. Before she left, she gave Bi-Han a certain look to follow her. Bi-Han waited a few moments. Finally, you seem to be distracted by Tomas so he arises from his seat and follows her.

He walked down the dark hallway until he saw her standing at the doorway, her arms crossed with a mischievous smirk on her face. "You know, for a demon, lying is not your strongest suite." Sareena grabs Bi-Han and pulls him into a room, and they begin to violently kiss. His hands tangled themselves in her hair as he pressed her against the wall.

While Bi-Han was in the Netherrealm, and Sareena met. He was in awe of her strength and her deadly beauty. He loved, he truly did, but he often saw you as...weak, too soft. Being with Sareena was something so different yet amazing at the same time. She shared his ambitions,was as vicious as him, murderous to the point that it was scary, but he loved it all. She was everything he ever dreamed of and more, how could he not desire her?

His brothers were furious over this newly found entanglement. "What about Y/n?" Kuai questioned. Bi-Han valued you as he always did, it was you who was always by his side no matter what. Your love for him was so pure and strong that he doubted anything would ever kill it. It would be a shame to damage that love by telling you, so he rationed that he would never let you find out.

But the moment Bi-Han laid eyes on again after being away from you for so long...guilt immediately began to eat at him. He remembered all those nights you were up consoling him, listening to his thoughts no matter how silly he thought they were. He remembered how you would take care of stitching his wounds, the loving yet concerned looks you would give him. You offered him comfort and solace that Sareena could never. He remembered how much you adored him, and he had betrayed you.

But Bi-Han tries to fight this guilt, he attempts to suppress it with every kiss he gives to Sareena. "Worried about your little bride?" Sareena says, somehow sending the guilt. Bi-Han just rolls his eyes as he begins to undo his shirt. "Never, She is the least of my worries. Right now...I need you" And with that, they begin to kiss more passionatly as they take each other's clothes off...not noticing you standing right there.

...

When you would read romance books, they always described heartbreak as being completely shattered, left in a state of screaming and tears. But you...you felt nothing inside. You felt cold and hollow, like you were dead. All you could do was stare at your husband and the demoness as they began to embrace, as he entered her. You often wondered what you'd do if you were ever in this situation. You always thought you would make a scene, scream as loud as possible and maybe throw something.

You stared at your husband and you just walked away. You descended the steps and entered your room and sat yourself down at your vanity. You took the flowers out of your hair as you stared blankly at your reflection. You looked down at your dress, no longer did you think it looked beautiful, in fact you thought it was the ugliest thing you ever saw. You take it off and throw it somewhere. Tears were falling down your face but you didn't even notice them you looked over at the bed, his side of it. So many nights you spent up worrying for him, praying for him...and he does this to you?

Finally, you begin to emote. You start to laugh. The tears don't stop falling but you don't stop laughing either. You laugh harder and harder and tears fall heavier and heavier as you stare blankly at you vanity.

...

When Bi-Han finished, he returned to the party, he expected to see you still there, laughing with Tomas and Kuai. He was hoping to see your sweet face after what he just did, perhaps it would make him feel better about what he did, or worse. But you weren't. You were gone and there was his brother's shooting him a disgusted look as if they knew what he had just done. Bi-Han ignores them and searches the area for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. He left the festivities to go search for you.

He went up the steps and entered your room and he found you sitting at you vanity, it's mirror shatter and if you threw something at it. But you didn't bother by this at all, you just gleamed at him with that sweet smile he knows you best for. "Husband" you smile as you rise up out of your seat and gracefully walk up to him. "You weren't at the banquet."

"And you came to check on me?"

He nods, he stares into your eyes and remembers just how much you mean to him. He reaches out and hugs you, much to your surprise. But you didn't resist him, you instead melted into his arms. "Did you enjoy the party?" You ask, sounding so sweet, so innocent. Bi-Han just responds with a nod and short "Mhmm" sound.

"Did you enjoy Sareena too?"

Your voice kept its sweet tone, you asked it like it was nothing that big. But Bi-Han froze at this, he releases you stared at you, a little bit of horror forms on his face. He looks into your eyes and notices that they're glazed just a little bit. "You're drunk." He says dismissive. You just stare back at him and shake your head slowly. It was at that second that Bi-Han noticed that you were holding something in your hands, bags, you were leaving.

You attempt to walk past him but he blocks your path. "What do you think you're doing?" The look he gives is a very stern one, but you've known him long enough to see fear in his eyes. "I'm leaving." You grip the bags tighter as you stare at the door, it hurts too much to look at him. "You will not." He says sternly like you were asking. "Why, you have Sareena now."

"I don't want Sareena...I want you."

"Yet you 'need' Sareena." You finally find the strength to look him in the eyes. Tears blurred your vision, you wanted so desperately to go out strong, yet you began to cry. "Why?" that is all you can bring yourself to say. "Why wasn't I good enough for you? What did I fail to do that a demon could? I-I love you, I'd kill for you, I'd die for you. Why wasn't I enough for you? You were enough for me... you're everything to me..." Your voice begins to crack, but you can't care anymore. You look into Bi-Han's eyes for answers, but he avoided your gaze.

He doesn't stop you from pushing past him and going out the door. A crowd had formed outside the Banquet hall, seems that the party had ended. You were a slobbering mess as you marched through the crowd, avoiding all their confused gazes. You saw Kuai and Tomas, they could tell what happened. They gave you a mournful yet understanding look as you passed. You saw Sareena, you both gave the other a cold glare as you passed.

You made your way to the nearest gate out of the Artika. You stared at the large structure, you hesitated slightly. You're leaving everything you built, everything you loved behind...you looked behind you and noticed that the crowd began to part as they made way for Bi-Han. He stared at you longing and you returned the look. Neither of you wanted this to end, neither of you wanted you to leave.

It was so painful to look at him, so you put it on the ground and you opened the large door and walked out into the cold night.

...

A/n: Well that was heavy. I'm gonna have to do a lot of fluffy stuff to make up for this lol.

Btw, should I like to do a part two where Y/n and Bi-Han get back together?

Edit: Part 2

#mk1 #mortal kombat #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #mk fanfic #mk x reader #mk x y/n #bi han #bi han x reader #bi han sub zero #sareena #drabble #sad ending

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