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typewritingyip · 2 months ago

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The Arcturus Missions

Part Nine - Information Needed

Part Eight

———

Preceptor is one of the finest scientists that the Earth has to offer, next to Shockwave, both of whom work for the agency Mecha and their own corresponding governments. He was one of the first to start working on the suits, before the drift technology, said it came to him in a dream. A very odd dream but still a dream.

Most people are convinced that the man is a little insane, often spending long hours examining and re-examining the remains of the Quintessons as if trying to remember something or someone. He spends a great deal of time alone or with pilots, he himself is technically drift compatible and tests most of the technology he makes within his own much smaller suit.

Although he was deemed odd, his innovations in the mech suit field and for a number of programs are astronomical in nature. Hence why Mecha was quick to snatch him up, with a considerable salary and a promise to be able to spend more time in his own suit, he worked endlessly on tech for the pilots and they were eternally grateful.

Most of the enchanted upgrades that went into the Arcturus program came from Preceptor, he himself technically registered for Arcturus Three should it ever get off the launch pad. It had not been the boss’s idea, but if their shuttle system were to actually work than sparing one scientist of their brilliant pair would be fine, right?

—

The ground was harder here than it was where the Odyssey landed, Jazz was talking quietly with Prowl for the moment while the crew of Actrusus One settled onto the chunks of scrap metal or the ground. Sunstreaker was at present cleaning his bracers, now covered in just disgusting gore, along with Sideswipe. Breakdown eased himself slowly to the floor and stared up at the sky, sighing deeply. Hound was waiting for Jazz to wrap up his conversation, shifting slightly to look at the other mecha in the distance.

If what Jazz said was true and that these beings weren’t things in suits like them, it could be dangerous, prejudice found it’s way into most societies. Glancing toward Sunstreaker, he stared at the flecks of pink still covering his armor, so much of their world was toxic to them. Hound’s eyes continued to scan the environment, watching some of the mecha in the distance drink something very similar to what was splattered on the twins. Could it really be their blood?

Jazz turns away from Prowl and comes over to Hound, resting his hand likely on his shoulder, “Welcome to Cybertron.” With a push, they go over and sit on a section of what likely used to be metal crates which have now melted to the ground, “Yes, speaking of, where is Cybertron?” Jazz sighed and leaned back against his hands, shaking his head slightly. He stayed quiet for a moment before looking to Hound, “About, thirty or more lightyears from Earth?” Hound nearly got up from the shock but Jazz grabbed his hand, “It’s not so bad once you get used to it. When you're in places like Iacon you can open your vents and Prowler helped me set up a garden up there. I’m not starving, not dying, and doing my job.” Hound sighed, slowly lowering himself back down to the makeshift bench.

“You likely traveled here the same way I did, an unsanctioned space bridge, you all probably deal with mild radiation sickness over the last few days.” The way he said it, it almost made Hound’s skin crawl, “Jazz, we’ve only been here a day or two at most. But back up, what the hell is a space bridge?” Hound’s head shakes a bit, especially when Jazz laughs, “God, there is so much you’ll have to learn. A space bridge is, uh, well maybe a wormhole? I don’t exactly get it, but you’re here.” Jazz’s arm wraps around Hound’s shoulders, “Why are the four of you here?” The moment hung in the air, for one second then dragged on, Jazz’s grip tightened slightly, patting Hound’s shoulder, “I’m really happy to see you Hound.” Hound lowers his head, smiling sadly, “I’m really happy to see you too Jazz.”

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked towards them both, “Jazz, we were going to find you, no matter the state you were in.” Sunstreaker’s voice was soft, rubbing lightly at his head, “Even if we died trying.” Sideswipe finished, smiling even behind the visor. They all nodded, the mission was to live and die for their planet, to do what they could while they could, they all knew it. To become drift compatible, the day you start the procedures is the day you sign your death certificate just about. Hound looked over at the pilots, at the numbers on their chests, staring at the twins 2450 through 51, and remembered how they’d passed three thousand before they left Earth. His hand comes up and rubs over the number on his own chest, “Our mission is to defeat these, Quintesson things, to stop them from attacking Earth. If we can take out their ranks here, or find wherever they're coming from, I think that’s worth it.” Breakdown hummed but stood, stretching, “I’m gonna walk around, try to get my translator working.” “Adjust your settings, it’s set up to translate into English.” Hound pointed at his head as Breakdown nodded and hands moved through the air, to the screens that would be in his cockpit to adjust the settings as he walked away. Jazz winced, “Uh, yeah, he’ll need to work on that.” Unable to hold it back, Hound chuckled, which eventually sent the group into laughter.

—

In the distance, Megatron was brooding, as were many other cybertronian’s watching the new and odd mecha interact. Optimus was talking quietly with Mirage only a few meters away, battle mask still up and covered in soot, “So, the yellow one,” “I think his name is Sunstreaker sir.” Mirage stood almost painfully rigid as he always did around the prime, “Yes, he’s the one who harmed Beachcomber?” Mirage nodded but clasped his hands lightly, “I don’t believe it was on purpose, the scraplet deterrent systems activated once they entered the solar farm, according to those who were there the fog was so thick they couldn’t see anything for the first half the fight.” Optimus hummed, nodding slowly, “And Beachcomber was seen by Knock Out, got his arm reattached and is already back in Iacon.” Mirage almost preened, he was good at his job and part of it was in fact the damage control. Optimus’s smile reached his eyes, hand coming to rest on Mirage's shoulder, “Thank you Mirage, I’d recommend you refuel and get some rest, we’ll be returning to Iacon in the morning.” With a stiff nod, Mirage steps back and salutes, “My Prime,” before heading towards where the energon was being served.

With a deep sigh, Optimus turned to Megatron, frowning now as he walked over, “In the last five stellar cycles, I thought you came to care for Jazz.” he stood as close to the grey mech as he could without touching him, his own gaze following Megatron’s to the strange mecha in the distance, “I have, that is why I am concerned on why they are here.” Optimus hummed, the back of his servos lightly brushing over Megatron’s, who brushed his back before crossing his arms and adjusting his stance, “If they did not come here to find Jazz, what else would have brought them here?” “I think they arrived here in a similar manner as to how Jazz came to us,” Megatron almost growled, it was a touchy subject, Jazz’s first few weeks in space and his collision with a space bridge, “But, regardless, they are here now and we will take care of them the same way that we have for Jazz.” Optimus looked at Megatron, smiling a bit before looking past him and sighing deeply, “It never ends, yes, Ironhide I am coming.” He quickly takes Megatron’s hand and releases it almost instantly, “Do not scare them while I am gone.” “I would never dream of it.” His tone said otherwise but the prime was already rushing off.

Megatron continued to watch the group, frowning deeply.

—

It was starting to get dark with the glow of the heater, the main thing for light, it was comfortable, familiar in a way.

Although it was against typical protocol, Hound was distracted and not keeping an eye on his team. Breakdown had wandered off to try and get his translator programmed and the twins were obviously snacking inside their suits as their hands clink against their visors every couple of seconds. He was thinking and starting at the heater, it wasn’t a fire but still something that would keep them warm. The last probably two days, he’d have to check over the actual logs to know how long it had been; it had been entirely strange and foreign. Something he’d expected working with a group so different from each other, but he didn’t anticipate the alien planet. He didn’t anticipate the wandering eyes of mechs that looked so much like his suit, but very clearly were not suits, stared at them all.

Heavy footfalls drew the twins' attention up, both of them gawking behind their visors at the sheer size of Megatron. Sure, they’d seen bigger mechs but he was also heavier by how just his footsteps lightly shock the ground. Sunstreaker turned towards Jazz, moving slightly closer, “Hey, do you know that guy?” Jazz glances up but looks back to Sunstreaker quickly, “That guy, is Lord High Protector, don’t piss him off.” He shifted back to his incomprehensible conversation with Prowl, who, if the twins were choosing to describe it, was gazing at Jazz as if he hung the damn stars in the sky. Sideswipe nudges Sunstreaker and together they shift closer to Jazz and Prowl, whispering quietly, “What the hell is a lord high protector?” Sideswipe shrugged lightly, “Beats me, but last time I messed with a guy in a suit that big, with a cannon that… compensating, I ended up in the hospital for three weeks and my mech lost it’s first arm.” Sunstreaker nods a bit, remembering that very distinctly since he’d been the one to pull the guy off his brother, neither of them had spoken to Barricade since. They move again, closer to Jazz and Prowl, both tuning their translators and trying to figure out what was between those two besides plating.

After a moment more, Megatron reached the outskirts of their group and he was glowering at it, the separation from the other mechs was bad enough before the war and now an entirely different species of mech was being terrorized by their shared enemy, it made his lines boil. Clearing his throat, he sat with them and leveled his gaze at the leader of their group, the one in green, “Hound, was it?” Who was still deeply lost in thought but glanced up, “Yes, um.” Jazz looks up and nearly has a heart attack, “Commander Megatron, sir, um.” He clears his throat painfully, “These are,” “I have received Prowl’s report, thank you Jazz.” With a slightly sheepish nod, Jazz looks to Hound. Who was stock still himself, as he had deactivated his own motion adapters to snack as to not draw attention to the fact he was eating. Jazz could tell and lightly shook his head, but a message popped up on Hound’s visual feed, ‘Don’t be stupid, also send me the specs for the transmitter, it's so not fair you can talk to them and I had to slog my way through their language’ Hound didn’t have time to answer, even as the twins did in his stead, “Hound, do you recall my question from earlier?” Megatron’s voice almost softened, as if he was anticipating a negative answer, “Of course sir.”

Taking a breath, he finished the bar quickly and shifted to look at the direct commander of this small outfit. His grey was intimidating, so many of the mechs on Earth had flashy colors so that they’d be able to sell merchandise, seeing someone washed out in such a way was almost disturbing. Hound shifted to look at him before reactivating the motion adapters and clearing his throat, tuning the translator slightly, “Sir, you asked us what brought us here, other than Jazz, I still don’t understand your question.” Megatron shifted a bit, gears grinding, reminiscent of the sound of Hound’s own joints in the early morning, “He is one mech, they sent four, why? What value does he hold to your people?” Nodding slightly, Hound scratches lightly at his jaw, “Well, Sir, technically he was only part of our mission, recover what parts we could. “Parts?” “Yes sir, we didn’t assume he survived.” Hound’s gaze wandered to the very alive Jazz, sighing lightly.

”You came to collect a dead mech, for a funeral?” It was a beat before Hound was able to respond, shifting slight, “Well, no. The government works with our agency, I technically work for both, recovering any parts of— Jazz, seemed more plausible and cost effective. We needed the data he has.” Megatron shifted slightly, crossing his arms, “The data?” Hound nodded some, “Yes Sir, the data, we don’t often travel space. Technically, we were expected to break Newton's third law, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Back home we say, what goes up must come down. We weren’t planning on coming back down.” Looking up to the stars, Hound smiled sadly, “How would you provide the data if you were not expected to return?” Breakdown shifts in the distance, clearing his throat, “Uh, we have on our ship a relay satellite, it would broadcast the information much faster than simple radio waves. It would remain in function long past our remaining time.” Megatron turns to look at Breakdown, “Your remaining time?” Hound clears his throat again as Breakdown looks at the ground, “Well, nobody lives forever.” Over near Jazz, Sunstreaker hums lightly before Sideswipe sings off key, “Let us die young or let us live forever.” Jazz takes the opportunity to smack Sideswipe.

Megatron turns to stare at Hound, with a flicker of horror in his optics, shock evident on his face, “You expected to die,” Hound, shrugs lightly, shaking his head, “Most of us were the best candidates, no strings attached or nothing much to live for unless you count money.” He sighs deeply, tilting his head slightly, clearly in thought, “After Jazz disappeared, we knew once we volunteered there wouldn’t be a way back. It was easy to accept, us or the world. Wouldn’t you make that choice?” He looks back to Megatron, whose face was still filled with shock before pushing off his seat aggressively and storming over to Optimus who was still speaking with Ironhide, “Optimus! A word, now.” The taller blue and red mech looked to the grey with a sense of dread before nodding, ironhide making himself scarce. Jazz looked to Hound and whistled lightly, “You don’t talk to Megatron about the matters of freedom, you or the boss will get an ear full.” Hound tilted his head again and rubbed his neck, “I was just telling him about our mission, to find you and send data back home before we died.” “Yeah and you said that to cybertronian Karl Marx.” Prowl frowned, looking to Jazz and having a brief silent conversation before he nodded and returned to his datapad.

Breakdown moved over to the group, hands on hips, “What?”

—

Mirage was for the moment hiding in the command structure, trying to refuel in peace and cool down from the day's battle. The green one, Hound, was a remarkable marksman and was plaguing Mirage’s mind; in the moment he could finally understand the initial allure that Jazz had for Prowl. he rested his helm lightly in his servos, remaining out of sight as he attempted to consume his fuel. Footsteps echoed in the distance and moved closer, “Let us talk where the others might not hear,” Mirage looked up and remained invisible, staring with wide eyes as his commander's voice drew closer. Optimus watched Megatron briefly before gesturing to the command structure, following Megatron’s angered pace.

Optimus was already rubbing his face, holding open the tarp for Megatron to enter the tent. Mirage remained in the corner, now freezing in his efforts to eat in peace, subspacing his energon and remaining out of sight. He thought for a moment to attempt to leave before Megatron and started to speak, “A suicide mission, they sent on a suicide mission.” Optimus sighs and leans against the table, “From what Jazz has said, their planet is desperate. Hence how he ended up finding Prowl and how we even learned of them to begin with. He too is lucky to be alive.” “Then a second suicide mission! When the first one failed.” He paced the small space, “Megatron, we don’t know how they view death, we have seen the amount of damage they can take. I myself have been certain Jazz was dead a number of times.” Megatron turned to Optimus, anger evident, “And that makes it all better, doesn’t it? The fact that they are designed for battle and war!” “That is not what I mean and you know it.” Optimus grabs Megatron’s hand and holds it lightly, squeezing lightly at his servos, “You cannot convince people that their life is worth living when they’ve been told from the moment that they came online they are doomed to die, not in a single conversation. I understand your anger, old friend, do you think it does not hurt me to see living being dismiss their own value so easily?” Optimus’s eyes were sad with age and wisdom, Megatron signed out with steam, leaning his helm against Optimus’s shoulder, “How many more mechs born to die will we encounter from this world? Their numbers, 2451, within thirty solar cycles.” Optimus’s eyes wandered the room for a moment, twitching for a click before he brings a hand to rest lightly on the back of Megatron’s head, Mirage snags the image and saves it quickly, “It seems that their species is a flash of lighting, bright and violent and brief.”

They stood together for a moment, silent and just holding lightly to each other. Megatron’s hands rested on Optimus’s waist as Optimus held his head to his shoulder, taking solace for a moment together.

“I hate their planet.” Megatron’s voice wavered with emotion, knowing he could have this moment with Optimus, oblivious to Mirage in the corner as was to his specs, “You have never been there.” Optimus tried lightly, “And yet I have seen this evil. I have seen it in Jazz’s broken parts and now in four others who treat themselves as if they have already died.” It was a moment before Optimus could form more words, “Your poetic way with words never fails to move me, I just wish you could speak of happier subjects.” Megatron chuckled softly, “May we live in happier times and win this war for the sake of all people.” He finally pulled away from Optimus, staring at him for a moment, “Thank you, if I had remained out there it was likely I would have said things they didn’t need to hear this soon after losing their home.” Optimus’s servos lightly brushed over Megatron’s faceplate, “It seems my endeavors to teach you patience are paying off.” Megatron grabs Optimus’s wrist, snarling, “Don’t be too proud of yourself Prime. Now, I have work that needs to be done.” “Will I see you for refueling?” Optimus tried not to worry at his derma, Megatron paused as he headed for the tarp, “If work does not run too long, my Prime.” Somehow to Mirage, that didn’t sound like a term of respect, he tried not to grin.

Once Megatron exited the room, Optimus sighed deeply, leaning against the table and speaking up, “He may not have known you were there Mirage and I recommend we keep it that way.” Before he too left the room.

———

A/N

Alright, so I had help with writing Megatron’s dialogue at the end of the chapter, it’s something when that person is pacing through the room doing a Megatron impression. It just makes it easier to find his voice apparently.

Thank you to @daffodils-and-bonfires for saying Megatron is cybertronian Karl Marx, I knew it but needed the help to phrase it.

I can typically write Megatron when he is on the battle field or in the berth room (not like that) but when he needs to wax poetic, I struggle a bit.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @childofprimus @miniartistme

And once again thank you to @keferon for this amazing AU.

#transformers #maccadam #tf mecha universe #mech pilot jazz au #hound #breakdown #sunstreaker #sideswipe #prowl #Jazz #optimus prime #megatron #mirage #the Arcturus missions #Ironhide

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that-basic-simp · 4 months ago

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Dis Dane

Fem! Eivor x Fem! Reader CW: N/A WC: 3.3k+ A/N: Get it. It's because they call Vikings Danes. And it's a play on words of the word "disdain". I'll see myself out.

This is not good. Not one bit. As soon as I saw their boat sailing through our waters, I knew we were in for it. They were always brutes and whenever the first wave of Danes came, it was all over for us. This was a new world for them and all they ever knew was pillaging and violence. They didn't speak the language of the English. They certainly did not have the intelligence either. Now, there are more and more of them coming from across the sea. They must be stopped if we are to ensure the safety of our current people and the next generation.

I tried to tell that to my father, as he was a nobleman under the King's court. He did not listen and now the Danes were on our doorstep, slaughtering our people, taking what is not rightfully theirs. And it was all because the King could not see what was happening under his own nose. It was madness. New blood was spilled everyday and the livestock was growing thin. The farmers had fled East, away from the Danes and further into England. More and more people continue to flee and what do we do? Stay and do nothing. I was not going to become another victim.

I set out late in the night, so that it was dark as could be. The only thing that would light my way was the moon. I did not dare use a torch as it would give me away easily. Once I walked right past the gates, since we were running low on guards and soldiers, I was into farmland that was burnt or overwhelmed by the stench of dead animal carcasses. Wolves and other predatory animals found a home there and they were another threat to us.

After passing another set of gates and stepping onto the bridge, I turned and looked at the large castle in the distance. For my entire life I had lived there. I grew up with my father and sat beside princes, noblemen, everyone who held power. I remembered so many feasts whenever we had taken over new land or gained new allies. Our empire was growing, but now, it would see its end by the Danes. I for one would not want to witness such a powerful empire be brought down by a bunch of savages.

The night grew on and I grew tired and weary from walking. I had no idea how far East some of our people went. I expected to see some settlements by the river, as that brought in great opportunity for trade and hunting. But there was nothing. Those settlements were burnt down or pillaged. So much for settling on the river side after fleeing. The moon started to get higher in the sky and my feet were growing more weary by the minute. I had to press on. I couldn't stop, not even for one minute. But as the weariness washed over me, I found myself sitting down underneath a small cliff.

Sounds of metal and snickers caused me to wake from my slumber. I opened my eyes to find my arms were tied behind my back and my ankles bound. I was laying on the ground so all I could do was wriggle around like a useless worm. I let out a sigh as there were some men sitting in a circle by a fire.

"Unhand me, Danes!"

One man turned. They weren't Danes. They were Saxons. Bandits.

"You're really going to lump us in with them?" he asked.

"You can be as brutish as the Danes. Now unhand me. My father will hear about this."

"Can't do much now," he said, shaking his hand. "Your kind is as useful as thralls."

The others started to laugh while I just continued to lay on the ground in the cold. The moon was starting to dip down and little streaks of daylight were crawling onto the night sky. They got up once the sun was up and started to mill about their camp, getting ready to set off to who knows where. And I unfortunately was going to be with them. If only someone could save me.

A bush nearby started to rustle and I turned as much as I could to find there was something blue that stared back at me. I was about to scream, but a hand reached out and covered my mouth. Their face poked out from the bush and a finger was over their lips. I nodded my head and they removed their hand, receding back into the bushes. Over the course of ten minutes, the men who were in the camp were slowly being dealt with by this assassin. Once the last man was no longer standing, the person stood up. A Dane. I was saved by a filthy Dane?

She came over and cut off my bindings. I stood up and immediately slapped her, which she had no reaction to.

"You think a little slap can hurt me?" she asked in a low, raspy voice. It was like nails on a wall.

"Of all people, I am saved by a Dane!"

"You should be grateful. Your own kind wanted to use you."

"How do you know?"

"I followed them ever since they took you."

"And you just now decided to intervene?"

"Seems you were enjoying the show from down there," she snickered.

"I'll have you know--"

She reached over and pressed a finger to my lips.

"Little lady, I don't care who you are, what power you hold. If you're not someone I need to associate with, I will be on my way."

I smacked her hand away, "Get those rotund fingers away from me."

"Why? Afraid you might like them a bit too much?" she grinned.

"How uncouth! I would never associate with a Dane in such sinful manner."

"Not what I was implying, but ok."

"I must be going."

"And where exactly are you going?"

"Why? Are you going to follow me?"

"If you continue to be a target, I might as well."

"I am not some damsel in distress."

"You just were earlier."

"Fine, if I am to be a damsel in distress, I might as well wait for my knight in shining armor. An actual knight in shining armor."

She smacked her lips and shook her head, "I could have just let you be used as a thrall. I could have let those men have their way with you."

"I'd prefer that than be saved by someone like you."

"Believe me, my kind are not as bad as your people lead you to believe," she walked off.

"Can I at least get your name?" I asked.

"Now you want to be nice?"

"Just so I can put a name to your face. So I can avoid it later."

She laughed and removed the bear head she wore. Her blonde braided hair came into view and it made her piercing blue eyes stand out. There was a marking on the right side of her head and I could see some tattoos on her arms.

"Eivor," she said before putting the bear head back on, walking off into the woods.

Eivor. I shouldn't be thinking about her, even after I had finally made it East and found a small settlement to be a part of. Things were going smoothly for me and even if I wasn't in some fancy castle, it was nice being with like minded people with a similar disdain for the Danes. But as the days turned into weeks and people have been talking about the growth of a certain population of Danes, I couldn't help but think back to Eivor and that fateful night.

How the right corner of her mouth tipped upwards into a smirk. Those dangerous, yet gentle eyes that looked like the seas itself. And the blonde hair that looked like the wheat in the fields, soft and thick. Then it was the skin on her face, the scar that stretched across her left cheek. Through the ruggedness of her personality, that appeared to be the only soft thing about her.

"Y/N!"

I opened the door and found one of the villagers with someone. Wait a minute.

"Someone wishes to speak with you."

"Thank you," I said and walked towards the person. I could tell who they were just by their height and build.

I reached down and grabbed her hand, pulling her into my small house. As soon as the door closed, I ripped the hood of her cloak off.

"How'd you know it was me?" she chuckled.

"I could just smell the blood on you," I hissed.

"Really?"

She grabbed the corner of the hood and raised it to her face, taking a deep inhale.

"I just washed this."

"Idiot!" I said and smacked her upside the head.

"Hey, hey."

"I wasn't being serious."

"You need to lighten up," Eivor said and spun around the house.

"Small, yet cozy."

"What are you doing here? And how did you find me?"

"How can you eat and sleep in here? I'd be afraid of burning the place down," she tapped the small pot that was over the fire with her foot.

"Hey, stop that."

"And you sleep on that? Little lady, you really down graded from the once luxurious life you had."

"I'm actually happy."

"You are?" she turned, an eyebrow perking up.

"Yes. I am. I am happy here because I have a commune that share similar ideals and morals."

"Let me guess, you all hate the Danes. Us."

"Yes. Which I am surprised you were able to step a foot in here."

"I have to blend in where I can."

"Anyway, what are you doing here?"

"Came to see you. More like check in on you."

"It's been weeks since we had last spoken and now you're coming after me? What are you? A stalker?"

"It's not stalking if I had no idea where you went in the first place. Call it tracking."

"Alright, how did you track me?"

"Asked around of course. How else?"

"You didn't send a spy?"

"Synin is hardly a spy," she said.

"Synin?"

Eivor stepped towards the window and held out her arm, a sharp whistle came from her lips. A raven, black as night and large like a bull's head, came flying in and landed on her arm.

"This is Synin."

"She's huge," I exclaimed and stepped towards her.

The raven didn't even fly away or step back. She didn't even try to peck at me.

"May I?"

"Of course."

I reached over and rubbed the feathers. The raven let out a small caw of appreciation before I pulled my hand away.

"She's beautiful."

"The finest raven I have ever seen," Eivor said. "She's one of my best friends."

"Are you friends with all the animals?" I chuckled.

"More or less," Eivor stuck her arm out of the window and Synin flew off.

"You should leave," I said.

"Kicking me out already?" Eivor laughed.

"No, it's just that, once word travels that a Dane was here, everyone will be searching one another's houses and stuff. It is best that you keep a low profile and don't come here as often."

"I can handle myself."

"I know you can. But I don't want to be the reason I am ostracized from the village."

"Even if they do, I can always bring you back to Ravensthorpe."

I slowly nodded my head, "That's generous of you, Eivor. But would your people be willingly open to let my kind in? Especially after the way we've treated you?"

"We've seen change lately. For better and for worse. But even if you feel threatened by my clan, I won't hesitate to step in."

I smiled, "Thank you, Eivor."

I just realized my heart pounded against my chest, my face had grown warm and I felt light headed, like I was going to faint any second. What was this Dane doing to me? Was she cursed? Had she cursed me to feel this way? No. She's not like how my people describe her to be. She's different. And I've been blindly eating what my people feed me.

"I'll leave the back door open for you. Come any time. Preferably at night."

She smiled at me, "Thank you."

The back door swung open and she raised her hood on her cloak. She waved goodbye to me and stepped out of the house, heading back to where Ravensthorpe was. As she departed, something slipped out from behind her and onto the ground. I quickly went out and grabbed it before I came back inside. It looked like it was part of the gear she wears. Like one of her furs. I looked around the house before I brought the fabric to my face, taking in the scent of it. No blood. It smelt of the river and fish, the air and the birds, the pine of the trees and fresh grass. Of all people for me to be friends with, it was a Dane. I shouldn't be calling her that. A Norse woman.

I opened my eyes and found someone sitting across from me. I almost yelped and leapt out of my bed, but after I found it was Eivor, my heart calmed before it began to beat rapidly again. Her head was slumped over and her left arm was resting on her left leg as it was bent upwards. Her right leg was against the floor while her right arm was just dangling beside her. I couldn't help but smile. I got up and stepped towards her. I shook her shoulder a bit, but she remained asleep. I grabbed underneath her arms and dragged her to the bed. That was a struggle as I didn't know she had that much muscle density to her body. Once she was on the bed, I pulled a blanket over her.

"Sleep well, Eivor."

I began to do my daily chores about my house and by mid afternoon, after I had come back from helping a lady milk her cows, Eivor was awake.

"Did you bring me into your bed?"

"Yes. You looked uncomfortable sleeping against the wall."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," I said and put some things down on a small table, preparing dinner for tonight.

"I still never got your name."

I turned around and was face to face with her, those curious eyes looking right back into mine.

"Y-Y/N," I stuttered.

That was new.

"Y/N," she repeated. "Beautiful."

There was a long silence between us. Unlike the other silent moments I have experienced, this felt natural and comfortable.

"I should be going. It's getting late."

She was about to take off through the back door, but I reached over and grabbed her hand.

"Stay," I said.

"Why?"

"Stay for dinner."

"Do you need help preparing the meal?"

"I should be ok. Thank you."

The night was an interesting one. She told me stories of her journey from Norway and how she sailed across the sea with her people. She told stories of her raids and how she would kill those who needed to be killed. I could listen to her talk all day. That low, raspy voice was tickling something in the back of my head. It made me feel giddy inside, light weight. Like I was floating on cloud nine. After dinner was cleaned up, she bid me farewell and headed into the night. This would soon become our daily routine before a month later, someone was catching on.

"That person that keeps visiting you," the lady with the cows said.

"What about them?"

"You two seem to like one another."

"Not at first we didn't."

"They're mysterious."

"Indeed they are."

"How are they? Are they kind? Gentle? Brutish?"

I squeezed one of the udders too hard and the cow mooed loudly. I released my grip and turned to face the lady.

"I know who that person is."

"Y-You do?"

"They're a Dane."

My mouth opened and closed, but words have failed me.

"They're not causing any trouble."

"Not yet. They're all the same. Once we do something that they don't like, they're going to kill us. Slaughter us all like how they did back at home! We cannot let this happen again."

"You must believe me," I stood up, wiping my hands on my apron. "She would never hurt us."

"She?!"

"Yes. She. Not all Danes are men. And not all Danes are the same. Hell, they're not Danes. They're Norse!"

"A month ago you were talking to us about how you left the city to escape the Danes. Escape what could possible be our downfall. A month ago you were spitting on the dirt they walked on. Now, you're friends with one. Have they plagued your mind, Y/N? Have they made you commit sins against your own kind?"

"Eivor would never!"

My eyes widened and I slapped a hand to my mouth.

"Eivor," the lady whispered. "That's her name?"

I didn't move, but the tears forming in my eyes gave it away.

"Leave at once."

I ran back to the house and that night, when Eivor came, she was knocking on the back door as I had locked it. I had put something over the window and I locked the front door. She tried the front door, tried the window, but I wouldn't let her in. I can't anymore. For both of our safety.

"Y/N, if you don't open the door I am going to break it down."

"Fine, fine. G-Give me a second."

I got up and unlocked it. As soon as she stepped in, a worried look came across her face.

"Y/N, is something wrong, dear?"

"They know."

"Who knows?"

"This lady I milk cows with. She knows about you."

Eivor closed the door and pulled me into a tight embrace. The smell of the woods and river hit me. It reminded me of home. How I could smell the river from just opening my window and I could look out at the woods from the city. Tears filled my eyes and I found myself silently sobbing in her arms. Of all people, it was a person my people hated. It was someone I hated before. But now, how could I ever hate someone who is so soft and kind, gentle and caring as much as Eivor?

"Shh, shh," she cooed in my ear as she ran her hand through my hair. "We have to leave then."

"Where would we go?" I asked.

"I told you. If anything happens, you'd come to Ravensthorpe with me."

I pulled away and found the worried expression was replaced with a serious one.

"You mean it?"

She nodded her head, "Yes. I mean it."

"Thank you, Eivor," I hugged her once more.

"Of course, Y/N."

"E-Eivor?" I pulled away and faced her once more.

"Yes, Y/N?"

I grabbed her by her cloak and pulled her down to me, since she was a bit taller than me. Of all the nights we spent together, having dinner, sharing stories, being us around one another, it made me realize something about her. While she was a strong and powerful woman with a rage so strong I could never imagine, she also had a deep vulnerability that was as vast as the sea. There were nights of her crying in her sleep to where I had to comfort her. She taught me Nordic poems and songs that I sang to help her calm down. And she would do the same for me when I had nightmares of my mother. She was someone I had looked for in the city, but never found.

Her hand reached up and cupped my jaw as our lips met one another's. They were soft and warm, like how her cheeks were. Like how she was. Our lips melded together as if we were made for one another. I never would have thought I would love a Norse woman as I do now. I pulled away and tears were now sliding down Eivor's face. Her cheeks were flushed and a joyous tint was in her eyes. Such joy came together with awe and what appeared to be love was held in her eyes.

"You are mine, Y/N."

"I am yours, Eivor."

"We must go. Now. While people are asleep."

"Yes," I said.

Eivor helped me gather my most valuable belongings and we set out from the back of the village, making sure we were quiet on our way out. Once we had reached a safe distance away, we were home free to Ravensthorpe, where I would be greeted with a warm welcome and lots of mead.

#eivor x reader #eivor wolfkissed #female eivor #eivor varinsdóttir #ac valhalla #female eivor x reader

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corkinavoid · 1 month ago

Note

The Court Jester from FUKASE

Inertia from AJR

Pomegranate Lips from Derivakat

For requests for fiction ideas, please and thanks you ❤️

'The Court Jester' made me think of a full-on animatic in my head since it's not exactly a vibe-song but a tale-song. But, the thing is, said animatic doesn't exactly fit in a small ficlet, so instead, I'm going to just describe the bits and pieces here.

I am the Jester, my job's to entertain — Vlad Plasmius, wearing the colorful jesters clothes, the cap and the suit and the slightly creepy smiling makeup, is doing some tricks in the middle of a room full of pretty dressed people

And it seems that soon enough it too will be my job to reign — a brightly lit throne room, where Pariah Dark is lounging on the big sparkling throne, lazily tapping his fingers on the armrest, and Vlad's creepy makeup smile widens

As the king is slowly dying, any moment he could go — a dark room with no lights on, where Pariah is kneeling on the floor and clutching his head, as Vlad's smile is barely visible in the window behind him

As I trace my fingers on these haggard walls within your keep — Vlad's fingers over the stone cold walls and cell bars, shackles on his wrists

Though my exile still stands, I heard my duty call to me — the shackles turn back into the bright jester robes, and Vlad is back in the throne room, performing yet again

Because I am the Court Jester, I've grown tired of my sleep — everyone is clapping, but Vlad's smile is now only in his makeup, while he himself is not smiling anymore

What good is a crown if the brow it sits on is that of a dead man — Pariah's face glitches into a skull, and his crown slides off, but the next moment everything glitches back to normal

I'll wear my cap and painted smile with pride, my trusty baton in my hand — Vlad's smile grows wide again, and his face glitches from jester makeup to wearing a crown and back

And you will see me, sire, I'll make my way back to you — Vlad confidently walking up to the throne where Pariah sits, an evil grin on his face

The people soon will realize that your feeble body can't forestall — Pariah devolving into a coughing fit, falling down from his throne, his hands are bloody

You are human, you are dying, yes know I it's bittersweet — Pariah in his bed, looking sickly pale and still, staring into the ceiling with empty eyes, a disembodied jester's smile is hiding in the corner

But you knew this day would come, and you can't borrow steal or cheat — in a brightly lit, sparkling throne room, Vlad is walking up the stairs to sit on the throne while still wearing his jester clothes

Yes, your maker gave you time, but you've run out, and soon you'll meet — as Vlad sits on the throne, a red cape with white fur and a crown appear over him, the picture is covered in blood splatters and Vlad is smiling wide

I was awoken by some nibbling in my brain — Danny wakes up with a gasp in the darkness

Myself entrenched in ancient earth, with roots and vines my arms were bound — it's still dark, his limbs are tied with ivy vines and roots, he is buried under a tree

Were these my memories? or something else? and soon, I felt the urge to get out — Danny is clutching his head, tears in the corners of his eyes

Vines and leaves gave way easy just because — he is crawling his way out of a grave, fingers digging through the earth until he makes it out to the surface

Soon, I knew what caused me to awake - Danny gets up to his feet, his clothes ripped and dirty, and looks to where, behind him, a majestic white castle can be seen in the distance

I felt something bubbling in my chest — Danny's dirty fingers with broken nails clutching the fabric of his shirt on his chest

Peals of laughter rang into the distance from my soul — he is laughing hysterically, a mad glint to his eyes, and a wide, creepy smile on his face

I can not recognize a single thing in front of me — Danny, in his dirty clothes, walking through a town

The world as I knew it now is gone, is this reality? — looking around in wonder and confusion until he seems to find what he was looking for and enter a door

Absurd and nonsensical, fantastical and daft — glimpses of him putting on bright, different colored shoes with pom-poms on top, and different colored sleeves and gloves, all bright and in a jester style

All that is left to do is sit right down and laugh — Danny drawing a wide, jester smile on his face

Oh this world that I left you in has been tainted by your sin — back to Vlad, who is still sitting on the throne, but now no jester clothes are in sight, he is wearing something pretty and covered in jewelry

And as such I have now taken it upon myself to reinstate the reign of laughter and in health I will return - Danny walking up to the castle, a comical stick with a sack tied to the end of it on his shoulder

Oh, I am making my way back I will return — Danny, in all his jester glory, is walking inside the throne room as everyone is cheering and clapping as he performs

Soon, the people will remember the reason why they burn — Vlad's face is donning a very fake smile as he, too, claps for Danny

Pointing fists and shouting out with no more reason for concern — the cheers of the crowd become loud and extatic as Danny relishes in the attention and smiles

Soon you will see! the world will turn upon its head! — the throne room becomes all glitter and gold, people smiling and laughing as Danny continues to entertain them

Just you hope that you can see it 'fore you're dead! — Danny turns to look at Vlad across the room, a bright, confident smile on his face

Foolish king, you sit in empty meaning on your throne — Vlad's face is twisted and full of barely concealed anger as he grips the armrests of his chair

But in my time away you've ended up alone — his face, just like Pariah's face before, glitches into a skull and the crown falls off his head, but the next moment, everything is fine again

Oh, all the power in the world could never save you now — Danny's jester makeup, just like Vlad's before, glitches into having a crown on his head and then back to normal

As the time at which your curtain's called draws nearer, get ready to take your bow — flashes of pictures are changing too fast to notice, but there are moments with Vlad's coughing up blood and looking panicked, Danny in shackles just like Vlad before, and then Vlad lying in bed, tears streaming down his face

And now I, the mere Court Jester, will his majesty depose — Danny, wearing a crown and full king regalia, is walking up to the throne

Because I am the Court Jester, not all thorns come with a rose — he sits down, a smile on his face that slowly turns into a smirk

After all, I am the jester, and this future I propose — Danny raises his arm, and there's a sword in his hands that he brings down, the picture is covered in blood splatters again

Let the fool, let me, the jester, bring the olden tales to close — in the darkness, Jazz wakes up with a gasp

Let the fool, let me, the jester, a new saga now compose — she is crouching over the grave she just got out of, her clothes dirty and her hair messed up, and then she turns to look at the white castle that can be seen in the distance

~•~•~•~

I did miss a few lines because I didn't have anything specific imagined for them. Also, just so you have the idea of the color scheme and vibe for this whole thing, here are some pictures:

[P.S. I have not, unfortunately, came up with anything for 'Inertia' by AJR, but there's a piece for 'Pomegranate Lips' by Derivakat that I'm in the process of writing <3]

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dc x dp #vlad plasmius #pariah dark #jester #its the timeloop of sorts #a never ending cycle #ghost king #i wish i could draw #i mean i can #but not a full damn animatic #cork prompts #the court jester #fyi this is the first time ive heard this song #cork game

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factorialsotherfandoms · 1 month ago

Text

too tired to write a new thing like I wanted to, please take Arthur and Rubens set late in episode 3 I finished off. AO3 will be tomorrow or even later.

It is still dark when Arthur wakes up, and at first he is not sure why. Dante is a heavy weight against him, while Balu continues to babble nonsense in his sleep. Carina is curled up on the more comfortable of the three chairs, hair fluttering slightly with her breath.

Rubens-

Rubens is missing.

Arthur does not pretend that that is what woke him up - Balu is the obvious suspect - but…

Rubens is probably just grabbing some water, or using the bathroom, or maybe even taking a godforsaken hour of the morning shower so he gets first dibs on the hot water. All of these are perfectly normal, harmless, even sensible reasons for him not to be in the room.

But Arthur… Arthur thinks in needles and claws and bloody corpses, in bleeding wounds and missing friends. Clarissa had never joined them, but for Rubens to have left?

Arthur is not going to sleep until he is back, not like this, not when Senhor Veríssimo entrusted the safety of this group to him.

He gives it a few minutes, and Rubens does not reappear. It gives the anxiety time to convince Arthur that it is rational, especially when…

Something happened between Rubens and Clarissa, the two members not accounted for. Something Arthur could not quite read between the lines of, and something that /hurt/. She doesn't mean to hurt people, Arthur is sure of that, but Rubens doesn't know her, and with an already fragile mental state…

Clarissa is most likely keeping her distance from the group, listening for trouble if she even manages to rest at all.

But, if she has taken issue with his presence again…

It is that dread which moves Arthur. He pushes Dante aside, and gets up. He did manage to lose his shirt last night, but his trousers could do with being swapped out.

No matter, he has someone to find.

He quickly checks over the group nearby - all still there, all still breathing - before he searches.

Not the bathroom, not the kitchen, not the gates with Clarissa and not returned to their room. Arthur's worry is just pitching towards hysteria when he finds him, sat on the floor of the garage and staring at a washing machine.

One that is turned on.

"Rubens?"

Arthur tries to ask softly, but it atill makes him jump; Rubens startles, grabbing at his chest and leaning away. It takes him a moment to calm down, then he looks over. He tilts his head in acknowledgement, but does not speak.

"You okay?"

Rubens shrugs, and turns back to the washing machine. Only once he is firmly watching the drum does he reply "I'm okay."

Arthur could leave now; he knows where everyone is, and he knows that they are safe.

But that did not even sound like an attempt at a convincing lie.

And there is just /something/ about this scene…

He cannot do it, not when he thinks Rubens is must giving him a rote answer, not a true one.

Instead of returning to bed, Arthur comes closer. He sits down next to Rubens to find not one but two washing machines turned on. One is large and top opening and smells strongly of bleach, while the other is smaller, front opening, and Rubens is watching the colours spin.

It is yellow, and black, and it does not take much to guess just why Rubens' current outfit is so much cleaner.

"What are you doing?" Arthur pretends to be interested, just to try and work out what is going on.

"Laundry," Rubens looks at him like he is stupid.

"I can see that, but…" how does Arthur ends this tactfully, but also in a way which Veríssimo would approve of. "What are you washing?"

"Mine," Rubens points to the smaller washer, then after a moment the larger one. "Infirmary."

"… Ah." Maybe not Arthur's first choice of things to clean while restless, but the infirmary had been covered in blood. It makes sense, though, even if Rubens is a self-taught medic; Arthur does not envy him trying to treat Balu on a dirty bed, and with equipment taken from blood-splattered boxes. "Hopefully we won't need it again…"

Balu had a huge chunk of his face ripped off. If it had been anyone but Balu in it's line of fire…

Rubens makes a small, doubtful noise; experience would have Arthur agree with him.

The only reason you don't need the infirmary, in their line of work, is if everyone who was injured did not make it back alive.

And the Leones keep their fridges on a different floor.

There's nothing good that Arthur can really say to that; he stays next to Rubens, also turning to watch the washing machine. He waits for Rubens to say something, though he is rapidly learning that it is a fool's errand.

Someone who will not start a conversation makes this difficult, but nothing Arthur has not dealt with before.

One of his closest friends was always much the same.

…

It's only Rubens' second mission without his usual partner, likely following the death itself - a death that for Rubens, as the medic… Arthur can't conceptualise it.

Not really.

To think about the quiet man beside him trying to hold a long-term teammate's body together, only for them to die beneath him…

It has to have been the Johnny that Clarissa mentioned. It cannot have been long ago he died - far more recently than Clarissa and he lost their families.

… The idea of this mission, so close to something like that, then to have it thrown in his face when he tries to help…

Arthur feels a little bit sick.

"About what Clarissa said," Arthur sees Rubens twitch and… And he wishes that isn't what this was. "She's just upset. Don't take it to heart, yeah? I was hoping a trip would help her heal a bit, but with this going on…"

Rubens does not acknowledge that, but he does turn to face Arthur.

"It will be okay," Arthur lies. "Even if we cannot see it, even if we do not live to see it… it will be okay in the end."

What end? He doesn't know. An end. After Kian, after all this, when whoever remains alive can sleep in their beds.

Rubens sighs, and turns back to the washing machine. It looks a bit like he shakes his head, but Arthur is not sure.

They sit a while longer. The spinning pauses for the drum to once again fill with water, drain, and begin again.

Slowly, slowly Arthur feels a cautious weight on his arm. Rubens only presses a little weight into Arthur's side, but it is noticeable.

Not wanting to scare Rubens off, Arthur makes sure to stay very still.

"Arthur?" Rubens' voice is quiet, barely audible with two washers spinning ever on.

"Yes?"

"… too loud."

Here? Why doesn't he-?

Oh, right, no Rubens' doesn't mean here.

He means back where they are sleeping. Explaining why he is out here, in a way Arthur struggles to even pretend to believe.

"Balu is kind of noisy," Arthur agrees. "There's probably some actual bedrooms, if you want somewhere else to sleep."

Rubens pauses, then shakes his head. "It's fine."

"Rubens-"

"It's fine," he says, then gestures to the washing machines. "Dry, then sleep."

Both machines have a while left on their wash cycles. Something still feels off about Rubens, and Arthur… he's known people who have felt off in similar ways before. It is not a sensation that makes him feel comfortable leaving him alone.

Not when Rubens is now fully leant on Arthur's arm.

"I'll wait with you," Arthur offers. "Once I'm up, I don't fall asleep."

Another lie, but if Rubens is half as socially anxious as Kaiser…

Quiet, again, for another few cycles.

And then, more quietly, only just caught in the brief second where the washer changes direction… "I want Johnny."

Arthur cannot sit impassive any more; he frees his arm from Rubens, only to tuck it around his shoulder and drag him close.

"I'm sorry," Arthur says, of the death of a man he never met. "I-… I'm sorry, for whatever had you end up with us."

Rubens doesn't reply, but he doesn't pull away either.

And so silently they sit, watching the washing machine continue to spin.

#felpsweekend2024 #opc #opc fanfic #op fanfic #ordem paranormal

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cozage · 1 year ago

Text

The Daughter's Return: Part 3

Chapter 3: Changes

Start From Beginning | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Characters: female reader x Portgas D. Ace Word Count: 3.2k

Ace was with you in your dreams, standing and staring at the sea.

“Where do we go from here?” you asked, looking at him.

His brows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean? Dinner’s on the stove. The baby is still asleep, so-”

“The baby?”

Ace laughed. “Our baby. Don’t you remember?”

“I-” Canonfire in the distance cut off your sentence, and you could see fear all over Ace's face.

“Go hide,” he said. “I’ll hold them off.”

You raced to the house in the distance; somehow you knew it was yours. You felt nauseous at the thought of being so careless. Of leaving your child alone.

You were at the front door, stomach churning full of worry, when you woke with a start. Unfortunately, the nausea carried over from the dream.

Ace woke to your clamoring over him, racing to the bathroom. You barely made it before you began dry heaving into the toilet, only bile coming up. You had thrown everything else up the night before.

Ace quickly joined you, patting your back and holding you steady.

“Y/N,” Ace said.

“I know.” A pit formed in your stomach. You knew what was coming, knew how your life was going to change. “Let’s go see Marco.”

He gave you a smile of relief, thankful he wasn’t going to have to fight you on the matter.

But it didn’t really matter anymore. You knew what was making you sick. And there wasn’t a cure for it. Not an easy one, at least.

The two of you walked hand in hand to the clinic, where Marco was working in his office.

“Hi,” you said, smiling at him nervously. “You can run your stupid tests now.”

“You’re still sick?” Marco asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

“She threw up last night after dinner and this morning,” Ace answers, helping you sit on the examination table.

Marco sighed, and you could tell he was disappointed that you let this go on for so long. “Any nausea?” He snapped on his gloves and prepared some vials for blood drawing. “Fever?”

“Yes,” you answered. “To both, I think.”

Marco raised an eyebrow, shooting a look at Ace, but Ace only shrugged.

Marco handed you a sea prism stone to hold while he took your blood, and you suddenly felt very drained. The sea prism was the only way for devil fruit users to get their blood drawn effectively, but you still hated the process.

He hooked you up to a monitor, and gave you a liquid IV to help with your fluids, and then drew some blood from your arm.

It was quick and painless, but you could feel your stomach churning with anticipation at the results. Your life was about to shift. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

A piece of you was still hopeful. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe you really were just sick. But on the other hand, a baby was something that you could be excited for. And dread. You weren’t sure which answer you hoped for, and you considered flipping Izou’s coin to find out.

“Should have preliminary results in about two hours. So just rest and-”

“Marco!” A panicked voice screamed as a man entered the clinic, his eyes desperately searching for the first commander. “We need you. Now.”

The urgency in his voice made your heart rate spike, and the monitor next to your bed began to beep excessively.

“What’s going on?” He asked, turning off the machine. An eerie silence covered the room for a moment.

“It’s bad,” he said. “It’s Thatch. He’s-”

You didn’t hear the rest of it. You ripped the wires and tubes from your body and took off across the ship, sprinting as fast as you could across the deck.

You followed the crowd, pushing your way through and burning people to force them to let you through. You were heading for the commander’s hall. The sea of people got thicker, but you continued pushing, pushing, pushing.

Suddenly you saw Izou and Curiel standing in front of the crowd, blocking anyone from going any further.

“What’s happening?” you yelled, trying to make your voice heard over the panic happening around you.

“Turn around,” Izou said strictly. “Go back to the deck and wait.”

“Like hell!” you screamed, pushing past Izou. “Let me through! Let me see him!”

Curiel grabbed your arm and pushed you back into the sea of people. “Go back!” he shouted. “Just listen for once!”

“No!” you screamed, pushing again. This time when Curiel grabbed you, you turned your temperature as high as it could go, burning him the instant he touched you.

You took the split second he pulled away to dart between the two men and broke through their barrier, rushing towards the commander's hall. Rushing towards Thatch.

Fossa grabbed you as you sprinted through the common room, racing for Thatch’s room. You tried to burn him as well, but he resisted your heat with armament haki and held you firm in his grip.

“Trust me kid, just stay put.” His voice was tight, and it made you pause. You had never seen Fossa show fear or pain, but it was written all over his face now.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. “What happened?” you asked.

Jozu and Vista emerged from Thatch’s room with solemn looks on their faces. They shook their heads.

“He’s gone,” Vista said. “Looks like it happened last night. He’s been like that for a while.”

“Dude,” Fossa hissed, tightening his grip as you tried to break free.

“Let me go,” You shrieked, and everyone seemed to simultaneously realize you were there.

“Fuck, kid.” Jozu’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here? How’d you get through?”

“Thatch!” you screamed, still desperately trying to pull free from Fossa’s grip. “Let me go! Thatch!”

Marco suddenly appeared behind you, and Ace following closely behind him.

“Where is he?” they both asked, searching the crowd.

“Marco-” Vista glanced over at you. “He’s in here. Let’s talk somewhere else.”

“How bad is it?” Marco asked.

Vista and Jozu just shook their heads, and Marco’s entire body deflated in defeat.

No. If Marco was giving up, then it was bad. Your heart rate drummed in your chest, sending your body into survival mode.

You kicked Fossa in the shin, and then punched him in the stomach. You knew you should’ve apologized, but you didn’t care. You only cared about Thatch.

His grip slackened from the pain, and you yanked your arm out of his grip, dashing towards Thatch’s room.

“No!” Jozu shouted, trying to grab you. But you were too quick, and you skillfully dodged away and in through the door.

The moment you stepped inside, you could smell death. You froze, your blood running ice cold, but your eyes scanned the room.

It was a scene of horror, you quickly realized. The blood across the mattress was dark and partially dried. And Thatch…oh Thatch. His once jolly and bright face was now pale and dull, his skin looking more like wax than flesh. Deep lacerations covered his entire chest, his shirt covered in tears and cuts. This was a personal and brutal attack. An attack against a person you loved so dearly.

It was too late. You knew that. You weren’t stupid. The amount of blood alone was enough for you to know. Thatch was dead. He had been for a while.

“No,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes. “Who did this to you?”

You sat next to him on the bloodied bed, not caring about dirtying your clothes. Nothing mattered. Thatch was gone.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered, tears streaming out of your eyes and down your cheeks. “I think. Ace doesn’t know. We were about to find out, but then-” you choked on your words, starting to sob now.

“Where is he?” Your father’s voice boomed as he stepped in the door. He saw you sitting on the bed, sobbing as you looked over at him. You quickly wiped your eyes, trying to pull yourself together.

“Please don’t make me go.” Your voice broke as you spoke, your eyes silently pleading with him. “Please let me stay.”

Your father looked at you for a few moments, and then nodded in acceptance.

He turned to the men at the door. “Everyone needs to report to their rooms and stay there until further notice. Commanders, enforce it. Anyone who disobeys is disobeying a direct order from me.”

Fossa and Vista stared at you, waiting for you to move and follow orders. But you couldn’t move away from Thatch. You couldn’t leave him.

“She’s fine,” your father said. “Leave us.”

The men left you alone with your father, who said nothing as he watched you.

It was all you could do to keep it together. You couldn’t start crying again. If your father had any suspicion you wouldn’t be able to handle this, he’d send you away. And you couldn’t leave Thatch.

“He was alone all night,” you whispered. “Nobody even knew.”

“Curiel said he heard some commotion late last night.” Your father sighed, covering his face with his hand. “He just thought it was Thatch coming in drunk.”

He was crying. You had been around him enough to be able to tell from the slight change in his voice. But you didn’t say anything. If you spoke anymore, you probably would start crying again as well.

Instead, you reached out and grabbed Thatch’s hand. Even if he was gone, you wanted him to know you were here.

That’s when you found it. A few black, wiry hairs, firmly gripped in his fist.

You let out an involuntary gasp, pieces starting to click into place. You had passed the murderer last night, and he had said something about a dream. A dream that involved a devil fruit.

“Teach.” You breathed out. “It was Teach.”

Whitebeard stared at the hairs. “That’s a big accusation, Y/N. You might want to go off more than-“

“We passed him in the hallway last night,” you said. “He said something about being closer to his goal. He-”

You scanned the room, and then got up and began searching all of Thatch’s drawers and cabinets.

“It’s not here,” you mumbled, your voice raising in panic. “It’s not here!”

“Y/N,” Whitebeard said. “What isn’t-”

“Thatch’s devil fruit!” you screeched, your hysteria rising. “His devil fruit is gone! The one he found!”

There’s no way Teach would kill for one fruit. There were plenty of them on the Grand Line. You had found one and offered it to him once before, but he turned it down. What could he want with a simple purple fruit?

“He killed-” you broke into a sob, unable to contain yourself, still slamming drawers as you searched. “He killed him over a fruit? No. No! There has to be more! There has to be another reason! His death can’t be so meaningless that it’s over a stupid fruit!”

You fell to your knees and covered your face and cried, unable to contain yourself. You could feel your body temperature rising, steam emitting from you. You could feel yourself gasping for air, just trying to breathe. The room was closing in on you.

None of this was fair. Thatch was a good person. And now he was dead. There had to be a bigger reason.

“Marco! I need you in here!” Your father called, and the medic rushed in. You saw him stagger at the door as he assessed the scene that laid out in front of him, and then he kneeled down next to you.

“We need to get you out of this room, kid.” Marco said. His voice was even, but you could see tears in his eyes. “It’s not good for-”

“I can’t leave him,” you sobbed, pulling away from him and trying to crawl back towards the bed. “He never left me. I can’t- Marco. I can’t-'' You clutched at your chest, your breaths becoming low and rapid. You could feel yourself hyperventilating as you began to think about your future without Thatch. He had always been there. You didn’t know life without him. You didn’t want to.

You knew you had to calm yourself down. Slow, long breaths were what you were supposed to be doing, but you couldn’t get enough air to do them. If you kept panicking like this, you wouldn't be any help to anyone. And yet, Thatch was dead, and you felt like your heart was going to explode.

“Ace,” you heard your father call, and your eyes waited at the doorway for him to appear.

Ace suddenly appeared, his eyes focused on you. “Yes sir?”

Marco took out a needle and flicked it a few times. “This might pinch a little bit.”

“She’ll be fine. Go look in your division cabins for Teach,” Whitebeard said. “I want an immediate report.”

Ace nodded. You could see his eyes full of pain before looking back at your father. “Yes sir.”

You felt a small pinch, and the world went black.

Only a few minutes must’ve passed, because when you woke up, there was still chaos. You were now out in the commander’s common room, laying down on the couch. You kept your eyes closed at first, trying to listen for any reports.

“Pops, I know what they both said they saw, but Teach is one of our oldest members,” Blamenco whispered. “And he was under division two. There's something to be said about-”

“Blamenco, son.” Your father’s voice was dangerous. “Be very careful about how you proceed with that sentence.”

“Well-” Blamenco stammered, trying to backtrack. “I wasn’t insinuating anything. I was just…”

“Division One is accounted for,” Marco said. You could hear his footsteps approaching you. “Is she awake yet? I didn’t give her much.”

“Not yet.” Ace’s voice was soft, and you almost flinched. You hadn’t realized he was there. “So every division is accounted for except for ours.”

“And only one person is missing from your division?” Your father clarified.

“Yeah. Teach.”

“I’m going,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes as you opened them.

“Now hang on-” Marco said. “Nobody said anything about-”

“Teach didn’t follow the rules, and he killed a commander. He killed a brother.” Ace stood to his feet. “I’m going to make it right. I’ll be back soon.”

You grabbed his hand as he walked away, pulling him back to you. “I’m going,” you said more firmly.

“I dunno, Ace.” Your father looked around the room nervously. “I think we need to let it go. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one.”

So did you, to be honest. Something felt off. But you had to get justice for Teach. If you showed even a sign of doubt, Ace would go without you.

“We can’t let Teach get away with this,” you argued. “It’s our code. There has to be consequences.”

Your father frowned, looking at the two of you. “It’s a bad idea.”

“So Thatch will never get justice?!” Ace shouted. He was finally starting to crack, you could see it. But you wouldn’t comment on it until later, when you were alone.

“Please, dad,” you begged. “The two of us can do it.”

Ace whipped his head around and looked at you, baffled by your words. “You are not going.”

“Like hell! Yes I am!”

“No. You’re not.”

“Yes I am!” You scoffed. “What happened to being equals like you promised?”

You saw your father and Marco shoot a look of “I told you so” to Ace, but they said nothing.

Ace shook his head. “I’ll take care of Teach. I’m his division commander.”

“And I’m your strategist. So unless you have a plan, I’m coming.”

“I’d actually feel better if the two of you went,” your father admitted, but his eyes were directly on Ace. “Just keep each other safe.”

“Deal,” you said. You understood what he meant. Ace was reckless and preferred to do things the dangerous way. It would be up to you to protect him. You could do that. You would keep him alive, no matter what.

The two of you quickly prepared a small amount of rations and clothes and grabbed a few thousand berries, and then you jumped into Ace’s Striker. You just had to get into the water, and then those results from Marco’s tests wouldn’t matter anymore. You could ignore them for another week or so. This would probably be your last mission for a while, but at least it was with Ace.

“Let’s go,” you said, and you began to be lowered down.

Marco’s eyes widened as he saw you leaving, realization hitting him. “Wait! Pops, hang on! Don’t let her go!”

“Stop!” Your father called. “Marco, what it is?”

The ropes stopped their descent. You knew if Marco saw those results, you wouldn’t get off the ship again for at least another year. You couldn’t bear the thought of Ace doing this without you. You needed to do this. For Thatch.

You reached up and burned the ropes, dropping you and Ace down into the sea below. Ace shot you a confused look as the two of you struggled to hold on to the small boat as it collided with the water.

“Did you forget we’ll drown if we fall in!?” Ace shouted.

“Go!” you yelled back. Ace heard the urgency in your voice and immediately obeyed, roaring the engine to life and kicking the two of you off into the horizon.

You couldn’t look back. You knew you’d only see disappointment, and people arguing whether they should stop you or not.

You managed to keep your nausea under control, only throwing up over the boat once, so discreetly that Ace didn’t even notice it. It was clear he was deep in thought, his mind a million miles from you.

The two of you were silent for almost half the day. It wasn’t until the sun was setting that Ace spoke.

“Wanna tell me why you burned the ropes?” He pulled out a sandwich and handed you half, but you declined. It didn’t feel right eating food that wasn’t made by Thatch, and you still felt sick to your stomach.

You knew you had to tell him. It wasn’t fair to keep this information from him. Even if you could keep it from the crew, you couldn’t keep it from Ace.

And yet, you knew once he found out, everything would change. He would be angry and hurt, he may not even want you around anymore. You weren’t ready for the repercussions of that yet.

“Marco wouldn’t have let me leave if he checked those test results. And I need to be on this mission. I need to-” your voice broke, and you couldn’t bring yourself to continue talking about it.

The boat engine died, and you could feel Ace’s eyes on you, full of worry. “You’re really starting to scare me,” he said. “What’s going on?”

“It might be nothing.”

Ace bit his lip, clearly wanting to argue, but he decided against it. “There’s an island not too far from here. We’ll reach it by tonight. We’ll go to the clinic first thing tomorrow to have a doctor check on you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. A pit in your stomach formed, knowing you couldn’t keep up your facade much longer. You could only hope that Ace wouldn’t loathe you when he found out.

Tag list! @taeyoge @teiza @tojislawyer @trafalgardnami @bloopbopsblog @dancingnewcat @dxestyi @flooofity @nyxthedragon01 @deadsnothere @h-rhodes1598 @morgyyyyyyy @trafalgardvivi @fiestynatureweeb @frogpogjoghurt @beepboopcowboy @ms-portgas @luvyallbabes @appalost @zuchkaa @saybeyonce @stray-npc @kitsunechan707 @theyluvmesblog @heartysworld

(if you'd like to be included in the tag list, just comment or send me a message!)

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x y/n #ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #cozage #✧˚ace✧˚

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cardboardclownery · 8 months ago

Text

...hi guys :]

so uhh. folie a deux posting again-

this issss the first chapter i wrote for this!! cookie and i split the chapters among

ourselves specially based on their content and when pitching the idea for this one cookie said they felt sick while reading my idea so. i was chosen to write this one for his sake -v-

SO!! sit back, relax, and enjoy the horrors my friend B]

(also sorry about the bracket bits at the start, we havent made placeholder town names yet or anything ;v;)

FOLIE À DEUX - CHAPTER 5, DRAFT 1

big tw for: graphic depictions of violence, cannibalism, dark themes(?? its freaky idk what youd call it)

I’ve once again found myself in the dark, suffocating woods surrounding the towns of Eastridge. Realistically, I could’ve stayed in [town name] for a bit longer– I had only just started living there before moving out again. Despite that, something in my head is telling me that I have to leave. Telling me how that place is too close to my old home, how easy it would be for Lankmann to find me there.

That voice has been leading me fairly well so far, so I have no reason to stop following him now.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling a bit doubtful, though. I have no reason to believe he’s right or wrong, but a voice telling me to walk endlessly through the wilderness with unconfirmable reasoning isn’t exactly easy to believe. What other choice do I have, though? Stay put and see if it’s proven right, only to risk being put back into that hellish asylum?

No. That isn’t an option. We– I’m not going back there.

God, I’m hungry.

Still, I keep walking, ignoring how much my stomach growled. If I just make it to the nearest town soon, I can get something to eat. I think I still have enough money left to buy something. If not… hopefully they have a soup kitchen. I never imagined I’d end up in a situation where I would depend on something like that. I guess I never considered how people end up homeless or unable to feed themselves.

It feels odd calling myself a “person” now. I don’t know why, but it just seems… wrong in some way.

…I smell something. What is that smell? It’s visceral, almost like raw pork, and yet oddly sweet. I feel drool well up in my mouth and drip down my chin. I quickly wipe it off with my sleeve as I feel my heart begin to pound. Why am I so shaky? And why am I so much hungrier than before?

I look around for the source of the smell only to see a person walking not too far off in the distance. The trees make it hard to see them very well, but I can tell it’s a person. I know it doesn’t make sense for them to be the source of the smell, and yet something’s telling me that they are.

I find myself unable to look away from them. I don’t know why, but I just can’t.

Something about them makes me feel even hungrier.

Why am I hungrier? That’s a fucking person, what is wrong with me? Why can’t I just look away– I keep trying but I can’t get myself to look anywhere else but at them. My jaw falls open, letting more saliva spill out. They start walking farther away, I should walk away too.

But I can’t stop staring.

I can’t stop drooling.

I can’t…

stop…

…

…What...

What’s…going on..?

I can’t remember…how I got here…

I feel something in my mouth…I’m chewing something. It feels like steak, yet tastes more like ham. There’s so much of it, I feel it spilling out over my chin. It’s so warm… and wet… Is it covered in blood..? Was this even cooked at all? What the hell am I eating!?

I look down and–

And–

Fuck. Fuck, I–

I choke on what I was chewing, covering my eyes.

This isn’t fucking happening this isn’t happening–

I uncover my eyes and look down again. I see the same thing.

That person I saw. They’re right here, laying right in front of me. They won’t move, there’s a tear in their neck and they’re bleeding. They’re bleeding a lot.

Their leg’s bleeding too– there’s a deep gash in it. It looks as if an animal had torn it open with its teeth.

There’s blood on my hands. And my face, and my clothes.

There’s so much blood.

A sob pushed at my throat as I willed myself into looking at the person’s face. Another slipped out as I saw them staring back at me, making me look away again. I can’t bear looking at them like this. I can’t believe they’re even alive, let alone conscious.

It would’ve been so much easier if it wasn’t…

…What do you mean, “it?”

They aren’t an “it,” that– that’s a person that’s not–

I shake my head and look back down at its– their leg. The wound left in it is so deep, almost reaching the bone. For some reason, when I looked at this…

When I looked… I felt so, so hungry.

I swallow what remained in my mouth. It tastes… good.

Why does it… taste good..?

Without thinking, I lean down, hold the person’s leg in place and tear off another hunk of flesh with my teeth. The person doesn’t even resist or scream. It just lays there, whimpering in pain.

Its meat tastes so, so good.

I quickly chew up the viscera between my teeth and gulp it down along with the blood it was drenched in. I lick my lips to take in the mess on my face. It was oddly savory, even sweet. I tore off another chunk from its leg.

“I…I-I’m so…I’m sor…ry…” I choked out between chews. “I’m so… so, sorry…”

I swallowed down the mush in my mouth before croaking out another “sorry.” I couldn’t stop repeating as I ate, “sorry,” “sorry,” “I’m sorry,” as if it would do anything. It didn’t take long to notice the person stop responding. It finally died off as I sobbed pointless apologies, devouring what was left of its leg.

My sobs became incomprehensible blubbering after this. I couldn’t bring myself to eat anymore. I just buried my head in my hands, muffling the nonsense tumbling from my throat.

…It’s so odd.

In less than a week, I’ve transformed from a deer in headlights into a predator– a beast perhaps even more frightening than the one I had been running from all this time.

…

I can’t remember exactly how we- I got rid of the body. I just remember panicking, dragging the corpse for hours without thinking. I can’t remember where it is now. I think I stepped on something. Just above my ankle, there’s a bloody gash that must’ve been there for a while now. It’s from a bear trap I think. I probably shouldn’t be walking with a wound like that in my leg. I probably shouldn’t be able to walk with that in my leg. It stings, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it should, I don’t think.

I’m still damp from washing in a river. I think it was a river. It might’ve been a lake, actually. I can’t really remember that, either. I just know I was covered in blood, then went somewhere that had water and left without any blood on me. I couldn’t get the stains off of my clothes, though.

Hopefully no one noticed.

I’m in an apartment now– a small, run-down one, but an apartment. I’ll be stuck living here for a while so I need to get used to it. I’ve been staring at the same spot on the beige, hole-filled wall for a few minutes now, standing just in front of the door leading outside. My bag is lying next to me, having been dropped just after walking inside and closing the door.

I should go to bed.

I should unpack.

I should take a proper shower.

I should turn myself in to the police.

I should

don’t

I don’t. Know.

What do I do now?

Where do I go from here?

What… what do I do..?

I… I killed someone… I can’t even remember where they are now…

I just… hid them… like it was nothing and walked away.

I ate their fucking leg.

Why… why did I… Why…

Why…

I…

Can’t… breathe…

I fall backwards against the door. I can’t breathe. I choke on nothing. I can’t stop shaking.

My eyes start to sting from the tears forming in them. My fingers curl against the floor. My nails dig into it as they do.

Inhuman sounds bubble in my throat.

I feel something heavy wrap around me but nothing is there.

It becomes easier to breathe somehow.

The invisible weight around me grows heavier, pushing me down to the floor.

I curl into myself, lurching with each choked sob of a breath. Despite there being no source of it in the room, I swear I can hear music.

I really have lost it, haven’t I.

#scheduling this so i can jumpscare myself with the notifs later #also to clarify i dont. condone cannibalism-#sorry if this is too much it just felt right for the story we're making and im ill-#doai #dreams of an insomniac #alex williams doai #doai walex #doai folie a deux au

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dragonrider9905 · 2 years ago

Text

Heart Made of Flesh

Hello @echos-girlfriend! I'm your Secret Santa for @cloneficgiftexchange! I really hope you enjoy it :) @ghostofskywalker, thank you for setting this up!

Anyone else who reads, I hope you enjoy it too! Reblogs and comments welcome :)

Warnings: Talk of insecurity, self depreciation, allusions (very light) to suggestive behavior, talk of blood and wounds

Summery: You and Echo are more similar than you let on. You have a mechanical arm but don’t want that to be the only reason he connects with you. You also just don’t know how to tell him how you feel. A mission gone wrong should fix that for you, right?

You bit your lip harder, unconsciously drawing blood. You didn’t mean to stare but they just wouldn’t stop.

And it was rather annoying.

You tried to keep your gaze on your glass, multiple times forcing your eyes down, your breathing even, minding your own business but that just wasn’t working.

You and the Batch had gone to Cid’s for drinks after a particularly long mission. You all were tired, hungry, dirty—and apparently a little testy. Or at least that is what your case was. Most of the boys sat at a table in the center of the floor while you opted for the counter. It was getting a little uncomfortable, so you thought the boys wouldn’t notice your shifting or rotating your ‘arm’ if you were a little distance away. They definitely weren’t noticing you with all those pretty girls flirting with them.

Not too long ago, (but too long in your opinion) a Torgrutan, two Twi'leks and two human women came into Cid’s bar, for what was uncertain. They spotted the table of fine young men and immediately started flirting. Even though the boys tried to brush them off, they didn’t leave. Well the boys could have tried harder, the sour thought emerged from the dark, bitter place in the corner of your mind. You couldn’t help it. You knew you were being unfair but…

“You don’t look too good.” Omega broke through the mud in your mind, concerned eyes searched your face. “Are you ok?”

That was the other reason you felt they could have tried harder. Omega was right here sitting with you. (Granted they were Cid’s patrons and she threatened you bunch often enough about not scaring people away—or she’d deduct your pay and Hunter needed every credit he earned for his squad. You knew the boys were in an uncomfortable spot but still.)

You sighed. “Thanks hun, I’m fine.” You ruffled her hair, a burning sensation creeping up from your gut to your chest. Bile rumbled uncomfortably in your stomach, mixing with the alcohol and threatening your gag reflexes with acid. Not good. It wasn’t her fault you were feeling like her babysitter just so the guys could have fun. You loved Omega and wanted to spend time with her usually; her company was always a delight. This unusual resentment had a selfish stem and you knew it. It was because those strange women were flirting openly and carelessly with the man you had fallen deep, deep down for, but never had the courage to confront. The fact that they were spending time with someone close to you that by all rights…should be yours.

Yet he wasn’t. So you really didn’t have a right to feel that way. But you did. Shocker.

“Hey beautiful, I have an idea…” the Twi’lek whispered something in Echo’s ear, causing him to blush. He let his mouth open, shocked. You didn’t have to hear what she said to know what was implied, a subtle rage now coursing through your veins. Thank the Force Omega was oblivious.

You gripped the glass in your hand.

And shattered it.

Omega gasped at the soft crackle and crink. The pieces falling all around your hand and embedding themselves deep into the thick gloves you were wearing.

“Are you alright?” Omega’s eyes were blown out, hands covering her mouth in horror at the damage your right hand must be undergoing.

“On second thought, I am heading back to the ship. Go get Bolo to play a game of Djarik with you. Or better yet, ask one of your brothers. I need some air.” You got up quickly, hiding your hand that should be bleeding but wasn’t.

Without turning around, you left the bar. So, you didn’t see the commotion you left behind.

— — — —

You straddled Tech’s workbench, your own set of tools spread out before you. The tiny tools you carried with you at all times in case all the intricate wires in your false, mechanical arm needed to be fixed, fused or fidgeted with. You creased your brows in frustration, watching the yellow sparks fly as you worked the glass carefully from where it was embedded. A sewing kit was carelessly sitting at your side, as you’d have to fix your ruined glove as well. Sometimes you forgot what strength was in this arm.

You lost your right arm as a child. You’d learned how to cope with it and make it a “normal” part of your life. But a little part of you still was insecure about it so you’d always found a way to cover it up, hiding it physically and mentally from those around you, especially those closest to you. You’d only known the Batch since they came to work for Cid, but since then you grew close to them. And the closer you got, the harder it was to admit your insecurity, wondering if it would change their perception of you.

Ah crap. You felt the sharp edges pull from your false sensors and you cringed, clenching your jaw.

“Let me see that hand of yours.” A familiar husky voice broke through your brooding.

“Blow off, Hunter.”

Hunter was the only one who knew about your mechanical arm. He could smell the oil you used to keep it well functioning even though you custom made it to be without scent. His darn enhanced senses picked it up anyway, and thus you let him in on your little secret albeit reluctantly. It wasn’t by your choice how it came about…You knew he knew but he never brought it up…Until the night he found you trying to repair your arm after sustaining an injury. Your face was so red that first night he walked in on you, tears barely being held back while you tried in vain to fix it yourself in the dead middle of the night, he knew how important it was that no one knew.

“Ah, you’re just saying that.” he teased, letting the ghost of a smile appear. Hunter straddled the workbench facing you and grabbed your wrist, gently pulling it toward himself. He kept his gaze down, hyperfocused on rewiring your hand correctly and pulling the shrapnel from the fine work of machinery.

You looked up annoyed and sighed dramatically with a roll of your eyes. He smirked but otherwise stayed silent. You matched his quietness with an ante of sulkiness.

“You should just talk to him about how you feel, you know.”

“You don’t understand. NONE of you do! It’s not the same for me as it is for you guys. When men look at this, they automatically see me as incomplete and undesirable. Do you know how…how…” you choked up, swallowing hard. “You men always have an air of awe when there is a wound but a woman? I can’t tell you how embarrassing it is.”

“That’s not fair.” Hunter wasn’t one to sugar coat. “And you know it.”

You did, so you sucked on your swollen lip instead.

“Echo would understand, though. Wouldn’t you feel better being able to talk to him about some of this?”

“I know he does. He probably is the only one who does. But I don’t want to be pitied. And worse off, I don’t want him to like me just because we’re similar. I want him to like me for me…the way I love him for him.” You nearly whispered that last part.

Hunter sighed and gently said your name.

“Look, I’m sorry that we all made you uncomfortable and that we don’t understand what it is like. I really am.”

You looked up and saw his eyes searching the floor, as if it would give him the answer. His genuine concern melted your bitterness away, just like the night he’d found you.

“Hunter, it’s ok. I’m sorry too. You didn’t deserve that…I’m out of sorts and took it out on you; which was wrong. You may not understand but you’ve always tried to make me feel valued… and you never treated me differently, which I appreciate. Thank you.”

“Hey, I learned it from the best…that’s Echo, I mean. I learned it from Echo.”

A smile pulled at your lips. “Sure you did.”

— — — —

You didn’t think anyone would notice your absence but it most definitely was. Everyone heard the glass shatter, Hunter immediately slipped away slyly to check on you with a quick “I got this” and Omega ran right to Echo. She initially reached out to help you but you were faster in your quick departure. He stood up so fast, with such an angry outburst, worried about what happened (you shattered a kriffing glass in your hand?!) and it frightened the ladies away.

He felt concern rising from somewhere in his chest, written clearly on his brow. He took a step but Omega held onto his hand.

“Hunter said she was ok.”

“She’s hurt, I should go check on her…”

Granted, he knew how private of a person you were. You didn’t let anyone near you—ever—when you were injured, but your hand must be torn to shreds…he winced at the ghost pain that flared up in his own. He flexed it a few times to convince himself the cold, sharp shards he felt were in his mind and not real. His hand wasn’t really bleeding. It wasn’t hurt….he took a deep breath.

Echo needed to make sure you were ok. Even if you didn’t want to be helped…

“Echo, why don’t you just talk to her about how you feel?”

Echo eyed his large younger brother but found no hint of humor in Wrecker’s question. Instead, he saw that gentle gaze of honesty in his eyes.

“Because she deserves better. Plus, she’s not even interested. I don’t want to ruin our friendship by blabbering how I feel.”

“Did you notice the glass she shattered was only after that suggestive comment was made to you.” Tech adjusted his goggles. “She’s heard people flirt with us before on various missions and occasions. There is a special scowl that only appears when such an occurrence happens to you. She thinks she hides it well but she doesn’t. She never has such a negative reaction until you show up, Echo.”

“How is that relevant?”

“Are you asking a serious question?” Tech blinked. “Or are you trying to be jocular.”

“I literally have no clue what you are saying or trying to imply!” Echo threw his hands up, scowling in his voice as well as his expression.

“You don’t? Or don’t want to?” Wrecker raised his eyebrow.

Echo crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

“Echo, perhaps…” Omega nervously wrung her hands, obviously trying not to upset him, “maybe it would be better to say something sooner rather than later. Life’s too unpredictable. One day the person you care about is there and the next, they’re gone. Wouldn’t it be better to let that person know they’re loved than regretting never telling them?”

Echo sighed, shoulders dropping in a tired slump.

“Maybe you’re right,” he chuckled and ruffled her hair, “when’d you become so wise?”

“Eh, always was. Nice of you to notice.”

“So, you will take advice from Omega, and not us?” Tech fought a smirk.

“Yeah what’s with that?” Wrecker chimed in, visibly pleased.

“Didn’t you hear? Omega is the wisest.”

Echo ran his hand down his face with a sigh of anticipation. He knew he had to do this soon, but….a little time wouldn’t hurt right? He needed the right words.

— — — —

It was a few rotations later and the Batch was assigned a new mission from Cid…and Echo still hadn’t said anything to you. He pointedly ignored his brothers’ silent prompts and either sighed or shrugged at Omega with a “it’s not a good time” or “I don’t know what to say yet.”

The job was a two parter.

Hunter paired you up with Echo for the intel, Tech would stay on the ship with Omega to be ready for a quick get away, while Wrecker and Hunter went for the cargo that was demanded. None of you knew what the two pieces had in common, especially on a pirate ship, but you were getting paid a good price. Hunter initially wanted to turn down the job but the credits were needed, and Cid didn’t give much room for negotiation.

“You ready?” Echo had some strain in his voice.

“Yeah, how hard can an extraction be?” You shrugged. “It’ll be fine.”

Echo opened his mouth and shut it a few times, flustered, searching for words.

“Just keep your head up.” He finally said, putting on his helmet and hiding his face. Not really what you wanted to hear…he sighed then walked away. You stood there for a few minutes, digesting the strange conversation. Echo never acted this weird before a mission.

You wanted to ask him about it but never got the chance, it was time to board.

— — — —

Something went wrong. Hunter and Wrecker gave you and Echo the signal they had the cargo but you were still getting the intel. They headed back to the ship to make sure the crate was secure. Apparently, from the sounds of Wrecker’s grunting, it was heavy.

“Echo, come on, hurry up!” You trained your blaster down the halls, looking left and right. Your brows scrunched up and sweat beaded your forehead.

“Almost got it. Be patient.” he snapped back.

“Echo…I have a strange feeling. I don’t like this.” You turned to see your reflection staring back at you with a strange expression on Echo’s visor. His head was turned at a curious angle, his breathing slightly heavier. He always took your feelings seriously; at better times he joked that they rivaled the Jedi’s ‘feelings’.

“Okay, hold tight.”

Was there slight fear in his voice?

“Echo?” Now your breathing started to increase rapidly. You’d never felt this unsettled on a mission.

You didn’t have time to ponder more, shots came out of nowhere. You threw yourself in front of Echo and started firing back.

Karking pirates.

“I got it! Let’s go!” You felt Echo pull his scomp out of the portal and wrap his arm around your waist. You’ve done this move before. There was a door next to you. You’d just roll over each other into the other room…but something caught your eye. The door opened, a sneaky pirate trying to get at Echo from the back. He raised his arm to aim and…

Bam!

The shot went off; but before it did, you twisted yourself in front of Echo. Shots rang out (you assumed Echo shot the man behind you) in unison with your scream. You heard Echo shouting your name in panic, pulling your writhing body behind the door, and barricading you on the other side. His calls went from panic to insistent now, then confused. He expected blood…not sparks.

You peeled your eyes open and brought your other hand up to detach your arm. The flames crawling up to your brain telling you your arm was shreds immediately stopped. You heaved a breath and sat up.

“Shoot.” You mumbled, looking at the shambles your arm was in. How many times had that pirate shot it?

“Hey, you ok?” Echo removed his helmet and his eyes were searching your body. “What were you doing? You could have gotten killed!” Despite his reprimand, his voice was soft, probably still processing what happened.

“I was thinking I didn’t want to see you dead.”

“I don’t want you dead either.”

“J-just he-lp me, will you?” You started scooping up the pieces into your pack. Echo quickly came to help.

“Your balance will be off a little, will you be ok if I rigged the ship?”

“Yeah, yeah,” still trying to catch your breath, you wanted to give an air of confidence though, “go for it.”

Echo stuck his hand back into the scomp and commed the boys. You tuned it out, the world (the ship) around you starting to shake. You knew you were spiraling but you couldn’t stop it.

He knew. Now what was going to happen? He took that rather well. He was sort of ignoring it and you didn’t know if you were relieved or upset.

And…how lucky were you that it was that arm, and not your good one?

You hugged your pack. It felt a little morbid carrying pieces of your arm in your pack. It was mechanical but still. It had been a part of you for so long, it was so strange. Echo’s hand appeared on your shoulder, giving it a grounding squeeze.

“We have to get to the hanger! They’ll meet us there!”

Your musings would have to wait.

— — — —

The ship was falling apart. Explosions wrecking the hangar and surrounding you and Echo with fire, causing the ship to shake and the floor to become unstable.

“Echo look out!” Your warning came too late. Echo was knocked off his feet from an explosion next to him. The force pushed him out the hanger and plummeting toward the earth below. You cried out in terror, shrieking as you threw yourself toward the edge. Echo had grappled onto a loose piece of the ship. You wrapped your legs around some metal beams where the wall of the ship was blown away. You then balanced your body so it could support the extra weight of the one you were trying to reach. It was difficult not having the balance of your other arm.

“Take my hand!” You shouted above the din.

“No! If I do you’ll fall too! I can’t let you die!”

“Why not? I can’t let you die either, you idiot!”

“What do you mean ‘why not?”

“Just shut up and take my hand or I swear I’ll jump.”

Echo didn’t move so you started shimming closer, loosening your grip a little. That seemed to spook him so he darted his hand in your direction. You stretched out your hand further to meet his and gripped him hard as he let go. You were now his only lifeline.

“Alright! You are so stubborn.”

“Only because I love you, you idiot.”

“You’ve said that….wait, you love me?”

It was almost as if you could see the look of shock through his helmet. You started to chuckle, looking at his dazed dangling form. The piece he was hanging from fell not two minutes later.

“You’ll have to climb…I can’t pull you up!”

Darn fine time to lose your arm again.

You felt like your rib cage splitting in two from the pressure. You couldn’t remember the last time your breathing felt so constrained. Every breath in stretched your chest impossibly farther, trying to lift the invisible bantha sitting there, every exhale set your chest on fire. Echo’s hand gripped your good arm and his scomp dug into your flesh. You wanted to cry out but couldn’t. An invisible hand gripped your throat as you pulled, trying to get him to the ledge.

Then Echo slipped a little. Another explosion went off and jolted you. You had to fight hard to keep your grip even if your balance was lost.

“Co-ome o-ohn Eeekoo, don’t. Give. Up. Climb!”

“Mesh’la, you have to let me go. I’m too heavy. Save yourself. I need you to be safe.”

“D-don’t you dare gih-ive up.” Tears were streaming down your eyes now and you didn’t care. “Don’t ask me to do that.”

Echo’s grip loosened a little, and your heart, already overworked, started to increase its speed. “I can’t let you die either; because I love you too. I’ve loved you so long and should’ve told you. I’m sorry. I just thought…”

“Echo, don’t let go, please.”

“Mesh’la…”

“Echo, stop speaking gibberish and use the strength to climb instead of talk!”

You had to imagine the smile on Echo’s face. You felt the hardened grip return, along with the agonizing feeling of being split in half. You started to count to keep yourself calm.

“One…two…three…”

The world around you was falling away. Not just literally from the sky but the ceiling and walls started to blur, black clouded the edges of your vision.

“Seven…eight…nine…”

Then a buzzing sound broke through the haze. It sounded familiar…close…Echo whooped. It got closer…and closer…then the lights and hum of The Marauder announced its saving presence. You heard the hatch open and the shouts of the others. Echo’s grip suddenly disappeared and his weight was gone. Air forced its way into your lungs in a gasp. You wanted to call out to Echo but your energy was gone. You heaved and started to lift yourself.

Until a chunk of metal came falling down, smashing your body.

Shoot.

You couldn’t move. Your body crushed to the floor, the ship started to shift, gravity pulling you out the door. Your head slammed against another falling object, hard enough to draw blood, dizzying enough to disorient you, but not enough to knock you out. The taste of copper made itself known to your tongue, soon your whole mouth felt the presence of a hot liquid. The black specks returned. They danced and spun, swirling with the flames as your world tilted.

Your body started to slide in the opposite direction, a hot sticky trail left in your wake. You clamped your eyes shut and found you couldn’t open them.

Well this is it…

Footsteps skidded next to you, shouting grated against the complaining durasteel that creeped and groaned as it was ripping apart, the durasteel was lifted from your body. Strong arms wrapped themselves around you, the distinct feeling of a hand cradling your head and the hard inflexibility of a scomp supporting you. A gentle voice you’d know anywhere whispered:

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to fall, you aren’t either.”

You started to chuckle but a coughing fit replaced the giggle.

“Y-you got to go before the whole thing falls.”

“I’m not leaving you. We end this thing together. Hold on. It’ll be okay, okay? Just stay with me here.”

“Th-e world i-is black…Echo…”

His name stumbling out your mouth was the last thing to ring in your ears.

— — — —

You had the various pieces of your false arm scattered about, fidgeting with a piece here and there but not really doing anything with it. The despondency you felt starting from scratch made you wonder if it was even worth it. You reached up and felt around the stump on your shoulder. The uneven scars, the healed over tissue, the ghost of what was, teasing you in their silent haunting.

Your hand then slipped to your bandaged ribs. Apparently, according to Wrecker (talking excitedly while Echo blushed feverishly in silence), Echo had let himself down onto the boarding ramp and looked up expecting you to follow. When you didn’t, he jumped back up without a second thought onto the unsteady, crashing doomed ship and watched helplessly as…well Wrecker didn’t make you relive it. That was nice of him.

Echo apparently also didn’t let anyone touch you, too busy bandaging you up himself, barking orders at everyone to get the supplies he needed to wrap your middle and head.

Wrecker said he’d never seen Echo so “frantic”. It was hard to imagine as Echo was only ever calm….don’t worry, Wrecker re-enacted it for you (until Hunter ushered him through a door and left you alone with the man almost combusting from embarrassment.

“Don’t worry,” Omega whispered to him before slipping out herself, “she already knows. And don’t mind Wrecker, he’s just happy it’s finally happening.”

The memory faded and the silk between your ribs and fingers became real again. Echo hadn’t said anything to you. He’d only taken your hand and squeezed it tight, not looking you in the eye for the longest time.

“I may have a body of steel…but I’ve got a heart made of flesh, believe it or not, it’s real. And it’s yours. It beats for you. Don’t forget that, please. We’re the same, and I couldn’t have loved you more. I wish you could have told me about it…because I know.”

With the whisper he left. Despite the ship being small, he had avoided you for an entire rotation already. You knew he was around, you’d heard Hunter talking to him, but you didn’t seek him out.

You looked down uncertainly at your project again and sighed heavily.

Maybe remaking it isn’t an option. You could ask Tech or Hunter…in a few days. You didn’t feel like this now…maybe you shouldn’t fix it at all. Maybe this was the key to stop working for Cid.

The door opened with a whoosh, footsteps clomping a path toward you. A body slumped on the floor next to you and you felt Echo’s leg brush your own. The contact made your heart leap, eyes darting toward him to find his signature smirk on his face. You scowled and looked away. Your throat was sore and the lump you swallowed only made you feel pitiful.

“I’m sorry…I needed time. Thank you for giving that to me.”

You nodded, eyes ahead.

“Hunter told me why you didn’t tell me…I figured that but hearing it also pushed me out of my slump. I know you didn’t owe me anything, not an explanation or anything, but I can’t let a moment go by without telling you that this doesn’t change how I see you….I was hurt that you thought I’d …. well it does and it doesn’t, let me start there. It doesn’t because I love you, but it does because I know how brave you’ve been. How could I not admire that! You’re beautiful to me no matter what. Don’t doubt your worth or your beauty which is more than superficial because of this.”

You choked on a sob and Echo brought his arm around slowly, giving you time to shrug him off if you wanted or to move away. Instead, you leaned into his touch.

He leaned close to your ear. “Tell me where to start and we’ll have it back together in no time.”

“I-I don’t think I can, Echo.”

Tears started to well in your eyes. You couldn’t do this again.

“I…I’m so tired. Of all of it.”

“You don’t have to do this alone; we will do it together.”

Echo took his real hand with his real fingers and entwined them with your own real hand. You could feel the warmth through his gloves and it went right to your heart. The courage that fled you long ago started to return. Your throat was swollen, so you nodded instead, lips turning up in a smile.

“Together.”

“But first, I have to finish fixing something else…”

You looked at him confused, cocking your head to the side, eyes still glistening from the unshed sorrow.

He chuckled but his next words came out airy and nervous.

“Your heart…”

He leaned in slowly, soft lips latching onto yours. He smiled when you gasped and nearly laughed when you pulled him closer, hand gripping his collar like your lifeline.

“Hey, stop laughing. You have a lot of fixing to do.” You mumbled against his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Yeah, the arm could wait.

Both your hearts needed some healing, and a kiss was the perfect medicine.

#reader insert #echo x reader #echo x female reader #echo x you #tbb hunter #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb omega #tbb x reader #tbb echo #clone force 99 #fanfiction #fanfic #the bad batch #angst with a happy ending #angst and fluff #fluff and angst

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respawned-dove · 7 months ago

Note

Are you comfortable writing yandere Heavy headcanons with a male reader whos the enemy's team Medic? 🏨

Of course, anon! Enjoy some BLU Heavy content, though you can read it as RED if you wish. This is somewhat a fic and somewhat headcanons, I lost the plot somewhere apparently.

yandere! Heavy x male! Medic! Reader

[CW: obsessive thoughts/behaviour, violence, drugging, rape, NSFW scenes, alcohol/drinking]

Heavy doesn't have interest in most people. He's quiet in the corner most times, uninvolved in the action. Though he usually has an amused smile to give his own team's antics, he prefers to keep his distance. He listens and watches as both teams move around him, in battle and out. But really, all he cares to note is whether they're alive or dead, and whether it's someone he's hired to enact violence on. And he loves violence. The battlefield is his zone, the one place he feels like he can do what he was made for. And the battlefield is also where he met you.

His owns team's Medic is someone who has his respect and his friendship, and he can instantly note the same traits in you. Violence, sadism, and the ability to outsmart even bullets. He doesn't get to actually examine you much, considering he's mostly focused on killing you. He starts to get... distracted. Which is confusing for him. Killing is one of his favourite things. Why would anything be more interesting during a fight? You are, nonetheless.

He's been watching you more than he has been killing you. He went to Ms. Pauling's office on the BLU base and looked at the files on you, only a few minutes of glancing lest it be suspicious. He's the only one who even knows the other team's files are in here. All the listening pays off once in a while. You have a nice face, he thinks. The thought warms him in a way that makes him set the file back in its place and leave it behind.

Seeking you out to kill becomes a fun hobby for him. He likes the way you flail. He likes the way you fight and fail. He likes the way you call for your team and no one comes for you. He likes the way you bleed. He likes the way you die. And honestly, he wishes that respawn would leave him with a scar or two from your bonesaw.

You're doing everything you can to avoid Heavy on the battlefield. You can't understand what's made him so aggressive towards you out of nowhere. Or why he smiles like- like that when he kills you. Basically everyone on that field is a sadist, true, but it looks a little too joyous. You don't like dying, who does, but it's not... terrible to be so easily manhandled like that.

It becomes more of a mutual game between you two. Cat and mouse, really. The mouse always loses in the end, and at this point you'd be lying if you said it wasn't exciting to lose. You can't help wondering if he's excited too, ripping you apart and throwing you around. His gun is barely involved anymore, he wants to have his bare hands on you when he hurts you.

You start finding gifts for you left at your base. Simple things that could be left by anyone - your favourite book or snack, a new set of expensive scalpels - yet no one on your team will admit to giving them. They joke about a secret admirer and try to get each other to fess up with playful violence. But nothing comes of it, you just grow accustomed to them

Heavy makes photocopies of your files. He reads and rereads them, no longer able to deny how obsessed with you he’s become. The photo of you sits hidden under his bedside lamp in his room on the base. He pulls it out at night to just stare at it in silence, contemplating. He plays the memories of you in his mind in the same way. Covered in blood, grinning as you kill or heal in the distance, beaten under his hands… He feels like his head will crack open if it becomes any more full of you.

You notice even more of an uptick in him hunting you down. Compensation for how distracting you've become to him. You can’t help but revel in the almost obsessive way you’ve begun fighting each other. Neither of you are helping your team properly like you should be. His touches as he holds you down become almost gentle before they rip you apart, touching you in places that would be inappropriate at best. You come out of respawn blushing and gasping, but you can’t see it being anything other than an accident, especially in this line of work.

Heavy can’t get rid of you. His mind is overtaken by thoughts of you. He can’t focus on his books and he’s lost all interest in his own team by now. Late at night, while failing to read, he pictures a life where you aren’t contracted into this job. Where he can have you without consequences and you want him the same. If he could have you, even just for a night, he thinks it might buff out the you-shaped hole in his brain. No, it can’t be real. If he has you it would have to be coerced out of you. It would need outside help, planning. If he wants to have you, it will have to be forced.

cont.

It's a seemingly genuine coincidence when you wind up at the same bar in town. You instantly see each other, and you both instantly go on guard. You hide in your drinks and try to look uninteresting. A strong hand taps you, gently, on the shoulder. You know it's him. Your mind replays every death at his hands at once for a moment, before you manage to turn around. Silent, he just looks at you. His lips are pursed as though deep in thought. He clears his throat but doesn't speak, instead holding out a drink to you. He bought two of the same one? As you stare at it blankly, he seems to become frustrated with your silence. "For you. Is just whiskey and coke." He sets it in front of you, and then he pulls out a chair at the bar beside you. With the amount of muscle and weight on him, you wonder for a moment how that stool can hold so much man. You ignore how it makes you sweat.

He's quiet. Doesn't even look at you, just swirls his drink in his glass. You swallow, dry mouthed, and look at him. "Why would I drink something you gave me?" you ask, suspicious. He smiles slightly, eyes closed as he lets out a small rumble of a laugh, pulling his fur lined vest closer to himself with his large hands. Just barely entertained. "Doctor," he says, "I am not paid to kill you right now. I do not like poison kill, anyway." You let out a nervous chuckle, because he's right. This isn't the battlefield. He doesn't have any reason to hurt you right now. You drink with him.

Actually, you maybe drink too much with him. But he's just as wasted, it seems. You both are loose lipped and talking far more than either of you do typically. Every team secret is fair game, it's like all the typical decorum between the teams falls away. Like you're normal people, meeting at a bar. He seems almost sleepy in his distance as the night goes on, soft and nervous expressions that look odd to you compared to the usual faces you've seen him make. He doesn't look harmful at all. A heavy haze of relaxation makes it all feel so nice. It makes your guard fall completely.

Heavy is watching you, even as he also drinks. He only has to drink for so long until the first drink's secret hits you. Flunitrazepam, as his own team's Medic recommended to him. Takes a minute, but you most likely won't even remember what happens to you. His own drinking is more to quell his nerves. He knows it's not practical to have your forever, as much as he finds himself wanting that, but this drug can give him the chance to have you for at least... one night.

The bar closes, and you try to stand up to head out, slurred voice trying to say farewell. Standing up out of your chair proves too challenging, and your legs are too weak to hold you, falling from under you as you gasp and get ready to hit the floor. Heavy catches you before you can, and you're limp against him for a moment as he sets you back on your feet with support of his heavy arm. "Doctor is too drunk," he says near your ear, a hot whisper. You blink to try and focus more, able to pull yourself to standing on your own with wobbling legs. "Ahah, a- a bit t-too drunk, yeah," you say, stumbling over your words. "I need to get- get back, now. I am... I am needed tomorrow o-on our base."

Heavy puts his arm back on you, under the guise of supporting you as you sway. His expression betrays nothing of how fast his heart is pounding. He's never been this close to you without killing you. You're more soft than he imagined, yet firm, and seem like you'd typically be very strong and steady. Right now you're weak, muscle tone basically at a zero, leaning directly against him like he's never hurt you in his life. "I get motel for you. Maybe... me too. Cannot drive." He says it so matter-of-factly that you find yourself nodding along. Your hands cling at the soft lined fur at the edges of his vest as he helps you get across the street. The walk is nothing but a blur of lights in your mind, neon to warm yellow to blips in darkness until your body hits a soft bed. You sigh dizzily, closing your eyes as your body sinks into the terrible motel bed. The overhead lights stay off above you, and everything is so... relaxing.

Heavy sits on the opposite bed for now, chin in his palm, watching you intensely. You're soft against the bed, doctor's coat splayed beneath you. He stands, the bed creaking enormously as his weight leaves it. Stepping over to you, his hand cups at your cheek, feeling your skin. Your eyes blearily open as he touches you. You manage a hum of confusion, trying and failing to sit up. "Shush," he mutters, pressing you back down with one hand. He squeezes your chest while it rests there, clenching his jaw as his eyes graze over you. His large fingers grasp at the buttons of your coat. You look down at him blearily, huffing out a heavy breath. You seem to at least be processing that something sensual is happening through the confusion.

Heavy carefully undoes the buttons. Your coat is maybe the one thing he won't rip apart. He wants your dignity in battle to remain in tact even if nothing else does. You're his favourite opponent. Pulling it off your arms, he touches the red insignia on the arm of the coat, smirking to himself. Your hand weakly comes up and grasps at his arm, barely certain if he's there, if this is a dream. Your touch is so weak he barely notices it.

The rest of your clothes are not as safe from his strength. He grips at your button up shirt and tears it open at the middle, the threads ripping slowly. He just wants to see your body. Feel your body. Maybe, just maybe, even see more of your blood. Heavy disposes of your pants in a similar way, the remains of them hanging on the ends of your legs. You definitely know something is happening, grunting at him and trying to turn yourself over. His hands hold you down as he gets onto the bed with you, your weights together on the cheap bed threatening to bend it in half. "Lay still, doctor," he orders. "Lay still." You breathe out shakily in your haze, teetering on unconsciousness as he gropes at your frame. His hand travels down to your crotch, large hands surrounding your soft cock. He just feels it, for a moment, breath deepening. You harden slightly in his hand, body responding naturally as it will. It makes his throat dry and his body hot. You're so small beneath him, and you aren't even a small person, really. You groan weakly, and the sound spurs him on further.

Heavy's hand surrounds your throat. At first, he massages at the delicate skin, feeling every muscle below roll under his finger pads. Then, he's squeezing. Too hard. You're too far from your team's respawn, and he can't kill you here. As he squeezes, you begin to wheeze, and your eyes open as much as they can. You try to speak to plead somehow, but it comes out as a breathy whimper. You claw at his arm, and even though you break his skin, it doesn't make him let go. His other hand grips both of your wrists and holds them above you. His eyes bore into yours for a moment as his hand squeezes the air from you. Just as you begin to turn red, he lets go. You draw in a weak, deep breath groaning. The now un-busy hand returns to your half hard cock, fondling it as he breathes heavily.

You're almost completely hard, even as out of it as you are, and that certainly doesn't help his own hard on. The haze over your vision makes everything that's happening confusing, but fingers that big inside you are not ignorable. Your slow breath hitches and your back bends upward. Heavy watches you through half lidded eyes, lips pressed together thinly. His free hand palms at the front of his pants and he grunts hotly. "Body," he mutters. "Doctor's body is perfect." His face is red as he runs his hand over your chest and arms, down your stomach to squeeze at your cock again. You're overwhelmed, panting slightly without fully understanding what's happening. But it feels good. You know that it feels good.

You can feel something wet press against your hole, dizzily raising your head to look down. Heavy brought lube. He isn't stupid, and he doesn't want to ruin your body too much. As he presses into you, his eyes won't leave your face. He strokes your cheek, pretending for a moment that this is consensual, real. That you're normal people already in a relationship with no contract work preventing you from being together like this. Moans that definitely sound consensual keep leaving your mouth as you writhe slightly under his grip. You're starting to slip out of the world, feeling warm, thick darkness overtaking your brain. The rest of the sex is a blur untouchable by your memory, except for how tight you're held as warmth floods inside of your body.

The next morning though, all of it is untouchable by your memory. You can remember going out drinking, and your clothes are half destroyed for a reason you can't place. Getting out of bed, your legs try to give out under you, deep pain from inside you causing them to shake. You can feel wetness on your thighs. You try to remember what happened. You can't remember what happened.

You're late to the base that day, and you get chewed out by basically everyone on your team. You can't take a day off for pain in a job like this, so to battle it is. Heavy watches you from a distance, trying to mentally be in the place where you were, the faux consensual situation that lived in his head. Nevertheless, he has to kill you. He kills you anyway, with bare hands, just to feel the touch of your skin. Just to let his obsession feel less real as you bleed under his fists.

#tf2 x reader #dead dove do not eat #heavy x reader #reader x heavy #proship safe #tf2 darkfic #male reader #male y/n

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sapphires-and-silver-linings · 1 year ago

Text

Half-Life | Chapter Four

You realized then how delicate this all still was.

Pairing: Plaga!Leon S. Kennedy/F!Chubby!Paranormal Investigator!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Mutual Pining, Angst, Sexual Tension, Masturbation, Blood, Body Horror, Animal Injury & Death

Notes: Heeeeey, guys. It's been a minute since I last posted, but here is chapter 4 (finally)! My summer has been more busy and stressful than I ever could have imagined, so I'm happy to finally be able to finish this chapter, which is the longest chapter of anything I've ever written at just over 14k words!!! I keep breaking my own personal record every time I write, it feels like lol. I also think this is some of the best writing I've ever done and I'm extremely proud of it! Not sure when chapter 5 will come out, as school is starting back up for me soon and a couple people I know irl are getting married this fall, so I'll be traveling a lot as well. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy it! Let me know your thoughts! (And here's a little behind-the-scenes tidbit: the painting I describe at the beginning of this chapter is actually in RE4R in the grand hall!)

Masterlist | Previous | Next

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You awoke before Leon, for once.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sitting up on your air mattress and looking at his curled-up form, finally allowed to take in his appearance fully without having to sneak a glance or risk embarrassing yourself and him by getting caught staring.

You had yet to see him so at peace until this moment. He was laid atop his blankets, nearly in the fetal position, one long arm tucked under his pillow while the other was slung across his exposed midriff. His appendages were retracted again and his tail was hanging off the side of the bed, twitching slightly in his slumber. His breaths were deep and even, and his messy blond hair covered his closed eyes.

Never in your life did you think a literal monster could be so damn cute—so damn attractive in ways most humans hadn’t been to you before. Even the ones you dated. You wondered what that said about you.

As you gazed at Leon, you were reminded of the day before, a lovely warmth settling over you like that of the sun spilling in from the window above.

You could feel yourself blush as you recalled him carrying you across the bridge; how he had plucked a flower just to stick it into your hair; the fact he was willing to dance with you in the dilapidated ballroom simply because you asked; the way he played into your little game as you sat upon the throne, faces so near, you could brush your nose against his if you had just moved a little bit closer.

But then he had pulled away, leaving you breathless… and confused.

You weren’t sure why he would humor you with the flirting and the lingering glances and the gentle touches just to distance himself again—why he was holding himself back.

It was maddening, and you struggled to muster the courage to ask him about it or take matters into your own hands. Because, if you were honest with yourself, you were terrified of what it would mean if you did.

Worst case scenario, he would reject you and send you away. It would sting, but you had grown accustomed to the feeling; almost expected it by now. Besides, you were going to leave anyway, weren’t you?

Best case scenario, though? He would reciprocate and then… what? What could come of this? Would you still go home and let this remain as some passionate, short-lived fling? Would you work out how to stay and leave your entire life—friends and family—behind? Or would you come and visit him when you could manage it, living some kind of half-life split between your world and his?

Every outcome you could think of seemed to hurt, and you thought maybe it would be better to keep things as they were; tense but platonic.

However, being with him was so easy. Natural as breathing (when he wasn’t stealing your breath away, that is). Sure, there had been hiccups and misunderstandings. The both of you were stubborn and set in your ways, but you put your differences to rest so quickly.

But god, were you different. The type of different that you thought before meeting him would never work. As a human, he was handsome. Devastatingly so. Could have been a model, had he chosen another career.

And, most notably, he could have had anyone he wanted.

You had come to love your body with all its curves and marks, but you doubted he would even look your way if you had crossed paths in another life.

You knew it wasn’t fair to yourself or to him to compare who he was to who he is now, considering how much he had gone through over the years and his transformation. However, you couldn’t help but think the attention you were getting from him came from loneliness and nothing more.

If anyone else had been just as stupid and nosy as you, he probably would have acted this way towards them in your stead.

Could you so easily be replaced?

Your chest clenched painfully at the thought and you forced yourself to look away from him, eyes bouncing around the room until they landed on the painting hung on the nearby wall.

It was a beautiful depiction of the castle—how it must have looked when it was occupied by people instead of dust and crumbling stone. The colors were vibrant, and a couple in the foreground were walking away from it, arm in arm. You admired it for a long while, feeling a sense of serenity overtake your anxious mind for a moment.

And then memories of the day prior flooded it instead, how you and Leon had spent the rest of the evening making crude wooden frames for the paintings you had “borrowed” from the castle, carefully finding the best places to hang the new pieces on his once empty walls.

Leon acted like he didn’t care, letting you decide for him, but you caught him glancing at the artwork from time to time, a gentle smile on his face at the way they brightened up his home.

You knew once you left he would be lonely again. You hoped if you could make these changes for him it might be enough to keep him content, even for just a little while. And, selfishly, you felt that if you couldn’t have him, you could at least inject remnants of yourself into his life. Maybe then he’d think of you the way you knew you’d think of him until your last breath.

Everything about it was unfair.

You heard a rustle and a quiet call of your name, your gaze meeting the half-lidded one of Leon as he sat up to look at you. He let out a yawn, his impossibly wide mouth gaping open in a way you once thought to be terrifying, those razor teeth glinting in the low light of the morning sun. Now, as he blinked the sleep from his red eyes, you found it more endearing, like the maw of a cat. Precious in all its sharp edges.

“Good morning,” you told him softly, a smile playing on your lips as if you hadn’t nearly worried your teeth through them moments ago.

“Mornin’. You been up long?” he asked as he swept his hair from his face. You wished you could do it for him, but you pushed that thought deep down instead.

“Not long. Was just looking at the painting,” you replied, half-lying as you pointed at the artwork in question.

His gaze trailed up to it, a small grin alighting his bizarrely beautiful features. “It really was a great idea, bringing them back here. Makes the place a lot less depressing.”

“I have those, occasionally,” you joked, pulling yourself to your feet. “I’m gonna start breakfast if you’re interested in something other than fish.”

With a tilt of his head, he asked, “What’re you makin’?”

You smirked as you walked up to him. “You can find out for yourself if you get dressed and meet me downstairs.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, catching you off guard by leaning in close, so tall that even sitting down he was the same height as you were standing. “So demanding, bunny.”

You scoffed. “Forgive me. Please get dressed and meet me downstairs. Better?”

“Baby steps.”

Splaying your hand against his chest, you teasingly shoved him, “Whatever. I’ll just cook without you.”

He grabbed your wrist, clawed fingers cool against your skin, causing a shiver to run through you. “C’mon, you’re breaking my heart here.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes, pulling slightly against his hold. “Then be good and do as you’re told.”

He sighed dramatically, releasing you from his grip. “Yes, ma’am.”

You grinned triumphantly, gently tapping your finger against the tip of his nose. It caused him to scrunch up his face in a way that made you laugh, and then you turned on your heels and strolled to the door.

You glanced back at him as he stood and stretched. “Bacon and eggs, by the way.”

“Now that’s something I can’t pass up.”

“Figured.” And with that, you were on your way.

You kickstarted your morning by brushing your teeth and washing your face in the sink, then quickly got dressed so you could begin working on breakfast.

Leon was swift to join you, staying out of your way as he would be little help with his claws but keeping you company regardless. You made sure to leave his eggs runny and his bacon undercooked to abide by his more primal eating habits.

Soon enough, the two of you were at the table, sitting across from each other as was becoming the norm. It all felt so… domestic.

“Got any plans I need to know about?” he inquired after emptying his plate.

You swallowed the bite you had been chewing, glancing out of the nearby window. “It’s a nice day out. Pretty warm for autumn. Would that lake trip I mentioned yesterday be out of the question?”

“Don’t see why we can’t. And there’s lots to see. I think you’re going to have a good time.”

“With you? Always.”

You could have sworn a faint pink rose to his face, but he was quick to stand and place his used dishes in the sink, so you couldn’t be certain.

After a quick prep for the trip, you headed down to the lake, Leon helping you get onto the boat, which rocked violently as you stepped onto it, to your dismay. He chuckled as you grappled his shoulders to steady yourself, slowly lowering onto the bench beneath you.

“Not too keen on a swim, huh?” he teased you.

“Not fully clothed, at least,” you muttered in reply.

He simply smirked at that but didn’t respond.

Leon smoothly directed the loud motorboat to the first location you had agreed upon back at the house, which was a small cave that held a wooden shack inside. It was such a strange little place, but you liked to hear the echo of your voices bounce off the cave walls, as well as the sound of the boat gently slapping against the dock.

The headless statue with the dark stains on it—that looked an awful lot like old blood—made you uneasy, but you could see yourself camping out at a place like this.

After that, Leon said he was taking you to what he called “chicken island”, which made you laugh.

“Can’t imagine why they’d call it that,” you mused.

“It had chickens there if you can believe it,” was his deadpan response.

And he didn’t lie. Although the birds were no longer present, many rusted cages full of straw nests were stacked across the small area and worn feathers littered the ground. There wasn’t much to it, as he had warned, but you felt the need to at least say you had been to such a silly place.

He then took you into another cave, pulling up to a large dock with only your flashlight as a guide. You climbed up the ladder to the deck above—a place that you had passed through to get to the lake in the first place—to sit on a crate and eat your lunch.

Time was passing rather quickly while out on the water, and you worried if you spent too much time dawdling, you’d have to come back the next day and waste precious hours you could be doing other things.

The end of your visit here was coming up sooner than you’d like, after all.

You were halfway through your sandwich, giving the room a more intense sweep, when your eyes fell upon the elevator in the corner. You had pointed it out before, but Leon wasn’t keen on using it, as the generator keeping the thing in service had long since lost fuel.

Apparently, there had been a shooting range with moving targets on the floor below, to your bewilderment. There was also one inside the castle and another in the mines beneath it, though Leon told you it was too dangerous to trek the old shafts.

You glanced at the counter next to the elevator and a thought came to your mind. “Hey, Leon, you said there were moving targets in the shooting range, right?”

He looked at you quizzically but nodded, mouth full of sliced ham.

You giggled at the sight, but continued your questioning, “So if they were moving, was someone controlling them?”

He swallowed thickly before answering, “Yeah... This guy I just referred to as ‘The Merchant’. He popped up all over the village while I was trying to save Ashley. Helped me a lot by selling me supplies. He was in charge of the shooting ranges around here.”

“How did he know where you’d end up in time to set up shop? And how did he avoid getting infected with the parasite?”

Leon clicked his tongue. “Your guess is good as mine. He was… weird… but he did me a solid, so I figured it would be best not to ask questions. Even sold me some things to live on after I turned. He never came back after that.”

“Do you wish he did?” you asked, unable to stop yourself from prying. It was a bad habit, you knew, but you couldn’t help it.

You wanted to get to know Leon in every capacity, even though leaving would only hurt worse if you did. You must've been a masochist, then.

He sighed wearily, crossing his arms. “If I’m being honest… every day I wished someone would come back. Didn’t matter who. Used to lay awake at night and think about Claire or Ashely or Ad—” he paused at that, and you were going to ask what name he was about to say when he continued, “Anyway, I used to imagine them coming to find me. Just to say hi, I guess. To see how I was doing. But they never did. Not that they should. I told Ashley not to come back for her safety, and to not tell anyone I was alive. Don’t know why I hoped she’d break her promise.”

“Well,” you started, reaching over and wrapping your fingers around his hand, “at least I’m here.”

“Yeah, and I’m glad for it, even if it's just for a week.” He was staring down at your knuckles and you wanted nothing more than to coil your arms around him, but you refrained.

You considered him for a long moment instead, all your overthinking from earlier being tossed out of your mind as you promptly made a decision, saying, “I could always come back. Make this a yearly trip or something.”

His gaze jumped up to your own, then, shock evident in his pale features. “And why would you do that?”

You let out a huff of laughter. Was he really that clueless? Well, you weren’t about to give him the full truth—that you were utterly infatuated with him—instead replying, “Because I’m your friend, aren’t I?”

“Friend,” he repeated, voice low. Was there a hint of disappointment in his tone, or did you imagine it? “Yeah, I guess at this point, you really are. But I don’t know if it would be a good idea for you to come back.”

“Why?” You felt hurt by that, but you tried to hide it behind a nonchalant attitude, attempting to sound more curious than bitter.

“We’re wasting daylight,” he said instead of answering you, standing up from his crate. “We should keep moving.”

You stood up, too, confusion and frustration circling in your head like vultures. “Fine, but this conversation isn’t over, Leon.”

“Hm,” was all he replied, already making his way to the boat before you even finished zipping up your backpack.

The short trip to the other side of the cave was one full of awkward silence. You didn’t want to show that you were annoyed, but it was difficult to mask it while he was giving you the cold shoulder.

You realized then how delicate this all still was. A few days together was not enough time for him to fully open up to you. You were upset, but he had a stormy history—one he wasn’t keen on sharing.

Whether it was to protect himself from the vulnerability or spare you from the weight of his past, you didn’t know. But you wanted nothing more than to assure him that he meant something to you. That he could trust you.

You kept your mouth shut.

Despite the change in attitude, Leon was still quick to help you out of the boat. It was something you appreciated, given your apparent lack of sea legs.

Your concerned thoughts were replaced with a renewed sense of awe, though, as you shone your flashlight over the cave walls and rushed forward. Leon simply followed behind you while you explored the place, as he made a habit of doing since your arrival.

You found another headless statue stained in dark brown, to your disgust, but not much else resided in the labyrinthine tunnels.

You went back to the boat, and as you were about to leave the area altogether, you pointed out another small dock nearby. “What’s over there? Can we go?”

He seemed hesitant, shoulders tensing, but he eventually nodded, pulling up alongside it.

Once on solid ground, you were swift in finding a painting on the cave wall, which was a large and very old map of the lake with what looked like a whale in the center.

“What is that?” You asked Leon, the uneasy silence from just before fading as your curiosity took root in its stead.

He grimaced as if remembering something terrible. “Del Lago. Giant fish monster in the lake. I killed it, though, so don’t worry.”

“Ah, a Spanish Nessie, then,” you teased despite your horror at such a concept. “Must have been old, if this painting is anything to go by.”

“Its body sank to the bottom of the lake pretty much as soon as I downed the thing,” he said, looking up at the depiction of the creature. “It’s almost a shame, what happened to it.”

“Why, cos you killed an ancient majestic beast?”

He turned to you with a smile. “No, cos I wasted all that meat.”

You laughed and he chuckled in response, the awkward tension from earlier finally giving way to the easygoing banter you enjoyed so much.

“C’mon, there’s more to explore,” you urged, grabbing his wrist and pulling him along.

Near the mural was a shrine with two large hands sticking up from the cave floor, a head sitting in either stone palm.

Well, that explains the headless statues, you mused.

You moved on quickly after that, the cave giving way to a forested path. You made a face as you skirted past a sacrificial altar, gripping Leon a little tighter.

After having to crawl underneath a tiny gap in a stone formation, you made it to a fork in the path, a small building to your right, and a winding trail to your left.

“What’s over there?” you asked Leon as you pointed to the trail, leaning down to wipe the dirt from your clothes.

He seemed to freeze before responding a little too quickly, “Not much. And that cabin just leads to another dock. We should head back to the boat.”

“Oh, c’mon, we’re already here! Might as well take a peek!” you chirped, marching onto the trail.

Leon didn’t argue, but he was tense as he followed you up to the end of the path.

You were more than a little confused by what you found there.

“Graves?” you questioned aloud as you looked upon the two crosses made crudely of sticks, names carved into the wood. They weren’t next to each other like you’d expect, but spread apart and angled toward the center of the dead-end path. “How strange. The only other ones I’ve seen were in the church cemetery.”

“Yeah, strange,” Leon muttered behind you, sounding almost… nervous? You wondered why.

You leaned down to the cross on the left, barely able to make out the name “Luis Serra Novarro” on the wood. An old lighter was on the ground beside it. You wondered if it even worked anymore with how long it looked to be sitting there.

You then crouched before the other cross, “Major Jack Krauser” etched messily upon the surface.

“Well, his name isn’t very local-sounding,” you joked of the latter.

Leon didn’t reply, but you were too distracted by what was dug into the ground in front of the cross to comment on it. It was a large knife with an engraving of a snake on its rusted blade.

“Wow, that’s cool,” you mused, reaching out to pull it from the dirt. It felt like a waste to leave such a well-crafted weapon just sitting there.

“Stop!” Leon barked, lunging forward and yanking your hand from where it brushed against the scales.

Shocked, you pulled away and stood up, taking a step back at the snarl on his face. “Whoa, what’s wrong? The thing booby-trapped or something?”

He sighed, his expression turning weary instead of angry. “No, just… would like to respect the dead.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Respect the dead? You piled up human corpses at the entrance to the village. Not sure how that’s exactly—” You stopped mid-sentence, realization hitting you as you took in the miserable look on Leon’s face. “You… you knew these guys, didn’t you?”

He grimaced at your words but slowly nodded in response.

“Who were they?”

Leon crossed his arms over his chest tightly, as if to hug himself, before jerking his head to the grave on the left. “Luis helped me and Ashley. He actually saved me from him, too,” he said, looking at the grave to the right. “He was killed by that very knife.”

“Why bury this guy next to your friend if he murdered him?” You were flabbergasted by this whole thing, desperate to make sense of Leon’s strange actions.

He winced at that. “He was my mentor. Trained me to be an agent in the first place. Without him, I don’t think I could have survived.”

“What caused him to change?”

Leon decided to plop onto the ground, his tail whipping in agitation along the dirt. You joined him, sitting cross-legged beside his slouched figure, waiting for him to say something.

“He was betrayed by the very country he fought to protect. His whole unit was wiped out and he was badly injured, unable to fight like he used to. He ended up going MIA and joined the cult. They infected him with the Plagas, too. I had to fight him. I had to—” he stopped to take a steadying breath, “I had to kill him. With that same blade. His blade.”

“I’m so sorry, Leon,” was all you could offer him, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. He closed his claws into a fist and squeezed back.

“I buried Luis first,” he began. “Had to go into the mines to retrieve his body, ferry it out here. Then I went to the island on the other side of the castle to find Krauser. The whole place had collapsed in on itself, but I had hoped I could get to him. Dug in the rubble for days, but… couldn’t find a body. The knife is all I had left of him, so now it’s here.”

“I see,” you said quietly, staring down at the muddled reflection of Leon’s dirt-covered leg in the rusted blade. “Why’d you place their graves so far out of the way?”

“It’s secluded. Quiet. Peaceful,” he replied, head tilting towards the sky and closing his eyes. “Figured I would bury Wolfie here, too, when he eventually dies. Just thought it would be a good place to…”

You saw him swallow back his words.

“A good place to what?”

He sighed and shook his head before looking at you, those red eyes so hauntingly melancholy, it made your heart ache. “A good place to rest.”

The two of you sat quietly in the dirt, simply holding hands and watching the breeze ripple through the foliage surrounding you.

He’s right, you thought, comforted by the shade of trees, yet still able to make out the blue of the sky above, it is a good place to rest.

You knew Leon grieved the life he once lived, so evident in the way he carried himself—the way he spoke. But this kind of loss was news to you. You never realized just how much weight he carried.

You were determined to lighten the burden in any way you could.

“Come on,” you told him, finally standing. “We have one last stop, don’t we?”

He didn’t need your help to get to his feet, but he still took your outstretched hand, giving you a small, grateful smile when he towered over you once more. “Yeah. We do.”

Before you knew it, you were back on the motorboat, heading straight to the center of the lake for your last location.

You had seen the old, half-sunk fishing vessel from the shore, but wanted to explore it last for the hell of it. You were glad you made that decision, hoping that spending more time on the calm waters might lift Leon’s spirits.

He came to a stop at the port of the large wooden boat, gracefully exiting onto the dilapidated vessel before reaching his hand out and pulling you onto the algae-slick deck with him.

“Careful,” he warned, releasing his hold on you. “The boards are pretty damaged. Wouldn’t want you to fall through.”

“Yes, sir,” you teased, but you took your time walking around, just in case. You heard him chuckle as you shuffled slowly forward, giving him a lighthearted glare in response.

There really wasn’t much to see of the place, only able to access the front of it.

You leaned against the railing of the bow after a brief sweep of the area, looking out onto the blue, blue water. It was beautiful, and you could see why Leon would spend hours fishing out here beyond catching a meal or two.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, finding him leaning against the front of the cockpit, his eyes already on you. You wished you knew what he was thinking when he looked at you like that. You hid your blush by turning back around.

You placed your hands on the railing, a light giggle escaping you as a thought crossed your mind.

“What’s so funny?” he questioned, and you knew he was smiling without needing to face him.

You tapped your fingers on the wood. “You ever see the movie Titanic?”

He scoffed but didn’t answer, instead stepping closer. Before you knew what was happening, he had gently tugged your arms up, holding them in the air as he leaned down to place his chin on your shoulder. Your breath was caught in your throat by the proximity, his own tickling your cheek.

“Was this what you had in mind, bunny?” he asked you, voice low and teasing in a way that made your stomach flip. You kept your arms up as he slid his hands down to rest on your waist and you wondered if you would pass out from your inability to pull oxygen into your lungs.

You needed to get yourself together, so you forced out a nervous laugh before saying, “If only we had Celine Dion playing in the background. I think we’d be dead ringers for the remake.”

Leon laughed heartily. “I can’t imagine they’d do a remake of such a nineties classic.”

You giggled, turning slightly to meet his eye. “They remake everything these days.”

“Well, I don’t think I have what it takes to play Jack, but you’re pretty enough to go on the big screen.”

Oh.

That compliment made heat flood your whole body, though you didn’t want him to notice it. “What are you talking about? You’re practically Leo DiCaprio two-point-oh.”

“Mm, maybe ten years ago,” he mused, pulling away from you, to your chagrin. “C’mon, we should head back to the house.”

You pouted as you turned to face him. “But I don’t want to yet!”

“Well, there’s not much left to do out here,” he replied, as if coaxing you to follow his lead.

But that wasn’t exactly your style, now was it?

Instead, you let your hair down from its messy bun, kicked off your shoes and socks, and yanked your shirt over your head.

Leon’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as you stripped in front of him, pulling your jeans off and leaving yourself only in your underwear. You could tell he was trying not to stare, focusing solely on your face as he choked out, “What the hell are you doing?!”

Still, you saw his gaze drop to your bare skin. You felt utterly exposed, but you weren’t ashamed.

In fact, you felt good.

You felt free.

You sat on the railing of the boat, smiling wickedly at him as you flipped your legs over the edge. “I told you if I was going to have a swim, it wouldn’t be fully clothed, didn’t I?”

Before he could say anything else, you plunged into the water.

It was so cold, you locked up for a moment, your body shocked by the sudden change in temperature. You stayed under for a few seconds, willing yourself to adjust before breaching the surface.

You wiped the water from your eyes, blinking up at Leon as he hung off the bow of the boat. It looked like he was about to dive in after you, as if he was worried you wouldn’t come back up.

His concern for you warmed you right up.

“Are you serious?” he interrogated, breathing out a sigh of disbelief. “You said it was too cold to bathe out here, but you’ll take an afternoon swim?”

“Definitely too cold for a bath,” you replied, nodding sagely. “But you should still come join me!”

“Absolutely not. You’re crazy, you know that?”

You smiled, all teeth. “What was your first clue, sweetheart?”

He scoffed. “You showing up here in the first place, probably.”

“So…” you began, “you should learn to expect the unexpected. And jump in. I know the cold doesn’t bother you, Leon.”

He sighed, staring over at the shore for a moment before turning to face you once more. “Fine.”

You whooped in victory as he stepped back from the railing, and then bit your lip as you watched him pull off his shirt, revealing his lean, taut upper body. His legs were obscured by the boat as he tore his pants from them, but you got a good look when he leapt onto the ledge of the bow. You had to crane your neck to take in all of him, grazing your eyes up his muscled form, covered only by boxer briefs.

Before you could stare for too long, he dove into the water behind you, and you covered your eyes as it splashed up in a small wave.

He quickly rose to the surface, flipping his blond hair from his face.

“See? Not so bad,” you told him, paddling closer to where he was treading.

“Guess not.”

You were about to speak again when you felt something large slither along your leg. You yelped, pulling your body away from the sensation. “Oh my god, something just touched me!”

Leon shrugged. “Probably just a fish.”

“No, no, it was definitely a snake!” you told him, eyes staring down as if you could see into the dark water.

“It’s possible. There’re vipers in the area, I told you that before.” He seemed to be taking joy in your distress and you glared at him angrily for it.

“Leon, if that’s true, I need out RIGHT now.”

You began to swim towards the motorboat, suddenly very over this whole situation, when something touched your leg again. You screamed as it wrapped around your ankle, pulling you under the water.

You weren’t under for very long, whatever it was almost immediately releasing you. You sputtered as you pushed your head above the surface, panicking.

But then you heard Leon laughing hysterically nearby, and the realization that he was just screwing with you hit you like a brick.

“Oh, you asshole!” you yelled, wading back over to him and shoving his chest in rage.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just had to,” he told you between laughs.

“Yeah, you will be.” With that, you splashed his face with water, feeling smug that you got him before he could use his arm as a shield.

You splashed him a few more times until he lunged toward you, grabbing your arms, “Okay, we’re even now. Happy?”

He released you and you pretended to think about it for a moment, easing closer. Your faces were mere inches apart, and you wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss him. You weren’t sure how the action would even work, considering his protruding fangs, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to find out.

He seemed to edge nearer, and you wondered if he had the same idea.

But your nerves got the better of you.

Instead, you jumped up and shoved his shoulders down, dunking him completely under the water.

It was your turn to laugh as he came back up, his wet hair covering his eyes. “Now I’d say we’re even.”

He pushed the strands from his face and shook his head, chuckling. “Yeah, I deserved that.”

Before you could say something else, the sky seemed to darken suddenly. You still had a couple hours of daylight left, so you glanced up, confused. You saw that clouds had converged over the sun, looking awfully heavy.

Something splattered against your forehead, and you wiped it off, realizing it was a raindrop. Several more began to fall on and around you, and you knew it was time to head back to shore.

You and Leon quickly got dressed as the sprinkle of rain turned into a steady shower, dampening your once-dry clothes. Still, you made the time to glance at Leon’s cute butt as he leaned down to pull up his pants, and when you turned to put on your own, you could feel his eyes on you too.

Thankfully, Leon decided to head back to the cave, the rain only coming down harder as you finally entered it. Leon moored the boat, and the two of you hurried through to the quarry.

A flash of light streaked across the sky as you reached the church, the echoing BOOM that followed it making you jump out of your skin. You must’ve looked like a wet chihuahua with how you shook, both from the sound and the cold rain seeping down to the bone.

Leon turned to face you, his expression concerned. He got close, placing his palms against your arms. “You’re freezing. C’mon, let’s get you home.”

Despite your misery, you couldn’t help but feel warmed by his words.

Let’s get you home.

He said it like it was yours, too.

He grabbed your hand, tugging you along as you rushed back to his place, knowing it was still quite a trek.

You finally made it to the house, and you doubled over as soon as you crossed the threshold, panting heavily from practically jogging the whole way. You were shivering violently, your teeth chattering as you finally caught your breath, when you felt Leon lay his hand across your back.

“Hey, you should get changed. I’ll start a fire,” he urged, eyes soft as he looked at you.

You nodded, doing as he said, wringing your drenched clothes over the tub before hanging them on the sides of it.

Feeling slightly better, you went back into the main room, seeing that Leon had pushed the dining table over and moved the couch in front of the fireplace, where a stack of logs was piled in the hearth.

He was struggling with the matches again, so you gently took them from his hands, alighting the kindling yourself. He simply nodded at you before you sat down on the couch and reached your hands towards the slowly growing flames.

“You’re soaked,” you told him. “Go change. I’ll make dinner when we warm up.”

He smiled down at you as he stood, stroking the top of your head. You never wanted him to stop. “Be right back, then.”

You were finally losing the chill as he returned, sitting down beside you, his tail draped between you on the seat.

Another loud crash of lightning made you cry out, flinching.

“Whoa, there,” he said softly. “You okay?”

You grimaced. “Yeah, I’m not… the biggest fan of storms. I like the rain when I’m cozied up inside, but thunder and lightning… I don’t know. It freaks me out.”

“So you’re afraid of heights, snakes, and storms. Anything else I should know about?” he asked lightheartedly.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not afraid of heights, just falling off a shoddy bridge, thank you very much. And snakes only scare me when they’re venomous and I think they’re slithering around my leg.”

His tail flicked up as you stared pointedly at it, the movement incredibly cute to you. He could really be just like a cat sometimes.

“I stand corrected. Just storms, then,” he teased.

The conversation flowed to other things, but looking around, you realized with sudden concern that Leon’s dog wasn’t nearby. “Hey, where’s Wolfie? Was he upstairs?”

Leon’s brows furrowed at that, standing and glancing around the room. “No… he wasn’t. He usually doesn’t stay out when it storms.”

“Is he okay?” you questioned.

Leon crossed his arms. “I’m sure he’s fine. Maybe staying somewhere out of the rain.”

You nodded, though you worried for the poor dog’s safety.

As you promised, you made dinner—a roast, actually—and you had never seen Leon so excited by something you had cooked thus far (though he wouldn’t touch the potatoes, onions, and carrots that simmered alongside it).

As you worked on washing dishes, you saw Leon staring out of one of the windows, and you knew he was looking for Wolfie. You finished the chore, walking into the main room to stand beside him.

“He’s never been gone this long,” Leon stated with a frown.

You worried your bottom lip. “Maybe… Maybe we should go find him.”

Leon glanced at you, then, brow raised. “I’ll go find him. You should stay here.”

“No way,” you argued, already pulling on your hiking boots. “I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

“You could catch a cold, and that bear is still around. Besides, you hate the thunder and lightning, and it's only getting worse.”

“Well, I’m worried about him too. I want to help.”

He sighed as you stood upright, seeing the determination in your eyes. “Fine, but dress warm.”

You nodded vigorously. “I have a raincoat and a jacket, don’t worry.”

You quickly ran to your luggage, throwing on your hoodie, sliding the raincoat over it, and grabbing your flashlight from your backpack.

You met Leon at the door, the two of you heading out into the dark.

You kept your arm braced above your brows to block the rain from your eyes, the hoods of your jacket and coat pulled over your head still not enough to prevent the onslaught, raking your flashlight over the ground as you and Leon called Wolfie’s name.

You didn’t know how long you were in the storm, and although the clothes on your top half helped to keep you dry and warm, your legs were getting soaked through. You pushed past the discomfort, your concern for Leon’s animal companion taking precedence.

The look of worry on his face was compelling enough to keep moving forward on its own.

You were near the church again, calling out the dog’s name as loud as you could, getting desperate to find him safe, when you heard Leon gasp beside you.

“What?” you questioned.

“This way,” was all he responded, bounding through the woods at a speed you could barely keep up with.

Leon was taking you deep into the forest, and you could focus on little else but his darting form as you followed him, afraid to be left behind in the dark.

You thought you were gaining on him when you tripped over a root, cutting your knee as you fell to the ground, hard. You were quick to pick yourself back up, sprinting after him and gritting your teeth against the pain.

You lost him, though, the realization filling you with panic. You just continued running in the direction you saw him taking off, calling after him frantically.

The thunder rumbled deafeningly from above, making you cower in fright, but you knew you had to keep going. The darkness seemed to encroach upon you, the torrent of rain pelting against your whole body hard enough to hurt.

You don’t think you had ever felt this afraid.

To your relief, you finally caught up to Leon, but it was short-lived when you took in what was ahead of you.

Leon was crouched over, and you could hear him muttering in distress. Before him was Wolfie, laying motionless on his side, four streaks of dark red seeping out of his white fur.

You rushed forward, dropping onto your injured knee, not caring how badly it stung as you assessed the animal in front of you. He was still breathing, thankfully, and letting out quiet little whimpers. The wounds looked deep as you appraised them, wondering what could have done this to him.

As if reading your mind, Leon growled, “It was that damn bear.”

You didn’t respond as he stripped his shirt off, easily ripping it into strips. They were soaked through with rain, but it was better than nothing.

“Here buddy,” Leon reassured Wolfie as he grabbed his own tail.

“What are you doing?”

Ignoring you, he gently pricked the barbed end into the dog’s side, who yelped and writhed at the feeling before near-instantly relaxing.

“Kills the pain,” is all he offered as you looked at him in shock. He then shoved the strips of cloth into your hands. “I’m gonna lift him up and I want you to wrap these around him, okay?”

He’d only ever been this serious when protecting you from that bear two days prior, and you swallowed before nodding in response.

You began to carefully slide the first strip over one of the gashes, about to tie it off, when Leon interjected, “Tight, but not too tight.”

“Got it,” you said, fingers shaking as you followed his direction for each wound. You weren’t sure if it was the cold or the nerves but you managed it well enough.

When you were done, Leon stood. Wolfie was held in his arms, the dog’s blood smearing against his bare chest. It made your stomach twist with unease.

“I have bandages in my first-aid kit,” you told him as he began the trek back to the path, trying to keep up with his long, hurried gait.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Leon said. “We can change the bandages, but I don’t know if he’s… I don’t know if he’ll make it.”

You couldn’t reply, tears pricking your eyes at the thought.

Leon’s voice wavered as he continued, “I know he’s old. I knew I’d lose him eventually. But not like this. Not this soon…”

You pushed back your tears, sadness giving way to conviction. “After we replace the bandages, I’m gonna take him to the vet, okay? You’ll have to carry him to my car, but I think if we’re fast, we can do this.”

“What if he dies on the way there?” Leon asked miserably, “I don’t want to be away from him in his last moments.”

“I know it’s a risk, but we have a real chance of saving him, Leon. You told me to trust you yesterday, right? Well, now I need you to trust me.”

He seemed so conflicted but eventually nodded, his features solemn. “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

You reached over and squeezed his arm comfortingly.

God, I hope I’m right about this.

+++

It had been a long time since Leon felt this afraid.

He had lost everything once, and was forced to spend a decade trying to survive the hole that loss gouged out of him. Just a void sitting inside his chest, the edges slowly creeping out to devour what was left.

Wolfie had been there for him in ways humans never were. Even when he wasn’t this grotesque monstrosity, he would rather die than burden someone else with his innate brokenness, preferring to mask it with his need to help or his oftentimes cynical sense of humor.

The truth of the matter? He didn’t know who he was when he wasn’t useful to someone. When he wasn’t a protector. He had never felt so unmoored, going without this self-imposed purpose to drive him forward.

Wolfie had renewed that purpose a month after his transformation, when Leon was at his lowest. He limped up to him with a swollen leg after being bit by a viper, clearly recognizing him despite his mutated features. He had done all he could to nurse the poor dog back to health, and Wolfie hadn’t left his side since.

He sometimes wondered if it was fate that brought them together again—if he allowed himself to believe in something beyond the mundane—but he had renounced god and any other spiritual bullshit ages ago.

He looked down at the dog in his arms, no longer in pain due to his venom’s painkilling properties, but his breaths were still concerningly shallow. He wanted nothing more than to sprint full speed back to the house but worried the movement would only exacerbate Wolfie’s injuries.

He wasn’t completely sure he was okay with letting you take his dog from him—not wanting to miss any precious time he might have left—but he agreed that it was worth a shot to bring him to the vet clinic, even if he couldn’t join you.

He glanced over at you, your teeth gnawing into your bottom lip as you silently walked beside him, and was at least glad you were here with him in this nightmare. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to do this alone.

Eventually, you made it to the house, and he moved aside to let you open the door for him. You both rushed into the building, you grabbing your first-aid kit and a pair of scissors.

You were quick to find the proper bandages, and Leon just held Wolfie’s body out so you could cut off the bloodied strips of his shirt and re-wrap the wounds. Your hands were shaking, but you were careful and methodical, so he didn’t comment on it.

When you finished, you grabbed a blanket and a towel, laying them on the dining table so Leon could bundle the dog tightly inside to protect him from the rain. It was a bit of a walk to the hunting lodge, after all.

You moved away to wash your hands and find your car keys, but Leon could only stare down at your leg as you came back into the room. There were mud and grass stains, which he expected, though he was caught off guard by the knee of your jeans being torn, bright red trickling down your shin in a small but steady stream.

“What happened to your leg?” he questioned, unable to recall when you could have gotten the injury.

“Oh, it's nothing. I just tripped when I was chasing after you. Nearly lost you completely because of it, but I found you pretty fast,” you told him nonchalantly as you packed your bag.

He felt his stomach drop at your words, realizing that he hadn’t once looked back to check on you during his mad dash to find Wolfie. The thought that you were hurt and lost in the middle of the woods during a storm that scared you, and he just left you there, making bile rise to his throat.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. I should have waited for you… I didn’t even know you weren’t behind me anymore…”

You shook your head, smiling at him, but the expression couldn’t hide the exhaustion in your eyes. “It’s okay, I promise. You were worried about Wolfie. I don’t blame you.”

“It’s not okay,” he seethed, his own self-hatred pooling into his chest. “I left you alone in a storm! In the dark! What if that bear was still around, huh? It could have killed you and I left you there, with nothing to defend yourself with!”

“Leon, I’m fine. Nothing happened beyond this little cut.” Your voice was calm and he wished he could hate it. Hate you for how you could talk him into or out of almost anything.

It had been mere days. He didn’t know you, and yet he trusted you implicitly. Trusted you with the life of his only companion.

And then, when he asked you to trust in him, he had sabotaged it in an instant.

He didn’t respond, knowing he might say something he’d regret, so he only watched as you quickly rolled up your pant leg to blot and disinfect the cut. He disliked seeing you in pain, witnessing the way your face screwed up as you used peroxide on the small wound—heard the hiss you made as it bubbled up on your broken skin.

You were wrapping one of the extra bandages over it when Leon looked out the window, the storm only hitting harder as the hours passed. “Maybe we should wait it out. You shouldn’t be driving in this.”

You sighed as you unrolled the leg of your jeans, walking over to stare into the dark with him. “Under normal circumstances, you couldn’t pay me to go out in this weather. But I don’t think we have time to waste, Leon.”

You both glanced over at Wolfie on the table, wrapped up and hopefully comfortable in the blanket. Leon had no choice in this if he didn’t want to lose his dog.

He was meant to protect him and now he was sending him off with someone most people would call a stranger.

Any quality of his that could be halfway useful in this situation, and he wasn’t even there when Wolfie was attacked. And now his only companion was bleeding out on his dining table and he could do nothing to stop it but put him in someone else’s care and hope he lived.

Leon had all this strength, all these heightened senses. His entire body was deemed a weapon. And yet he couldn’t even save his dog.

What was the point of any of it, then?

And what would he have done if you weren’t there to help him? Watch Wolfie slowly die, helpless to prevent it?

Worse still, what if it was you who had been attacked?

He imagined your lifeless body lying in his arms, frightened eyes wide and staring off into nothing, drenched in blood that wouldn’t stop pouring out of you, and he could do absolutely. Fucking. Nothing.

“Come on, Leon. We have to go,” came your gentle voice, pulling him out of his dark thoughts.

He only nodded in response, grabbing Wolfie and heading back out into the downpour, beyond the safety of his home.

The two of you trudged in silence through the village, the storm raging above your heads. He could practically sense your anxiety coming off of you in waves, but you were doing your best to remain stoic. He didn’t know if it was to calm yourself or him, but he appreciated the attempt.

Finally, you made it to the hunter’s lodge, and you spoke up as soon as the door shut out the torrent. “I was wondering, how did you know where Wolfie was? Back there in the forest?”

“The storm dampened it, but I could hear him whimpering from the path. When I got close enough, I could smell the blood.”

“Right, super senses. Thank god for ‘em.”

He glanced at you sharply. “I’d rather have stopped him from getting hurt in the first place.”

“Hey, I know this sucks, but he’s alive and he’s going to stay that way if I have a say in it.”

He really took you in at that. Your face was wet, strands of your hair sticking to your forehead, but the fire in your eyes…

He had no way to know if things would work out the way you wanted, but your conviction—your unyielding, infectious hope—quelled the needling fear, if only for a moment.

He might not believe in god, but angels must be real if you were standing beside him.

You made it to the car shortly after, Leon gently placing Wolfie into the backseat as you threw your bag into the passenger side and sat behind the wheel.

You turned the ignition, the vehicle roaring to life as Leon looked down at you, urging, “Please be careful. I might lose Wolfie, but I can’t lose you too.”

“I will be. I promise.” Before you closed the door, you glanced back up at him, asking, “What are you going to do while we’re gone?”

He clenched his clawed hands into fists, feeling the sharp edges dig into his skin as he grated out, “I’m going to kill that fucking bear.”

You looked shocked by his words but nodded in agreement. “Okay. Good luck.”

And with that, you closed the door.

Leon stepped back to let you drive off, knowing that the fate of his companion was out of his hands.

He exhaled harshly and turned on his heels, ready for the hunt.

Now this is what he was good for.

Shifting onto all fours, Leon was quick to shed his more human qualities for the sake of the kill, sprinting faster than he ever had on his legs alone. He focused solely on his senses to direct him through the downpour and to his prey, feeling his claws digging into the wet earth below.

As he had told you earlier, the storm dampened his abilities, but that wouldn’t stop him from reaching his objective.

In fact, it only made him more hellbent on completing it.

It took him nearly an hour to find where the massive animal was lurking: a cave not far from where he had found Wolfie bleeding into the mud.

Despite its size, there was not much of a fight as Leon latched those deadly teeth of his around its throat and ripped. It barely had time to even register him launching at it before it was wheezing and choking on its own blood.

In this form, Leon was too proficient at killing. A part of him—deep, deep down—wanted to take his time tearing the beast limb from limb, listen to it roar and whine in agony before he finally put it out of its misery.

When its jilted movements eventually stilled, blood coating the cave floor and Leon from his mouth to the knees of his dirty pants, he stumbled back into the wall and closed his eyes tightly.

Vengeance. It was something he understood, but he didn’t see the point of it. Blood for blood’s sake never sat right with him. He only sought to kill out of necessity—to survive.

And yet, here he was, bloodlust finally fading as the bear’s large corpse laid before his weary gaze.

He could pretend all he wanted that this was an act of protection, a means to prevent further attacks in the future, but the sadistic glee he felt when his teeth sunk into warm flesh… there was nothing to excuse that.

This bear was simply living as it was born to do, even in its aggression.

Maybe Leon really was losing his humanity. Not a descent into a mindless killing machine, but a dissipation of self—fully aware of his own cruelty, but basking in it instead of rebuking it.

He wasn’t sure which version scared him most.

He had to make this worth it, then. He had to alleviate this burning shame and break apart the guilt sitting heavy in his gut like a stone.

And so, with care, he carved up the carcass of the once dignified beast and devoured it, leaving only bones and fur in his wake.

It was the only form of reverence he could convey.

He dug a shallow hole in the mud beside the cave, laying the gory remains inside before covering it once more.

The storm had finally started to clear as he finished the task, the scent of petrichor not quite able to hide that of blood.

Unsure of how long it would take for you to return with news of Wolfie’s condition, he rushed over to the hunter’s lodge to wait out the hours.

They passed slowly. Agonizingly. All he could do was curl in on himself and sit just inside the door of the old building, wet with rain and blood and mud.

He once thought his initial transformation was the worst he had ever felt, that it was rock bottom. Before that, it had been what transpired in this village. And before that, it had been the disaster of Raccoon City.

He realized bitterly there was always further to fall.

He wasn’t sure why you were so adamant to befriend him like this. To help him. Was this pity? Was Leon some charity case for you?

But then he thought of the way you smiled at him, the look on your face as he joined you in the cold water of the lake, the way you drifted to him like you were caught in his orbit and couldn’t fight the pull.

The thought that maybe, just maybe, you felt the way he did… it was a jolt across his slumped form.

However, nothing could change what he was. His nature, it was a vicious one. And someday, you might not survive the animal that unfurled inside of him—through him.

Whatever happened after tonight, he knew one thing: his only escape was death.

He would simply wait out the end of your trip, selfishly wanting to wring out any joy he might find in your company, and if Wolfie survived the night, he would send him home with you to live out the rest of his days. He was certain you would take good care of him, provide for him better than Leon could ever hope.

But, he was reminded, Wolfie might not survive.

And it was Leon’s neglect that was to blame.

Useless, useless, useless, he repeated like a mantra in his head.

He never imagined he’d have more to lose than he already did. More to ruin.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, the dawn breaking up the night. The sun’s warmth upon his skin did little to lighten his mood—as it burned more than soothed—but then he thought of the way your soft flesh felt against his and he nearly fell into a dream, eyes drifting shut.

He shot up suddenly at the sound of an approaching vehicle, though, his misery morphing into an all-consuming apprehension.

Was he prepared to grieve?

Your car finally pulled up near the lodge, and he rushed to the side of it, his heart palpitating as he stared into the backseat window.

He saw Wolfie laying there, breathing slow and steady.

He was alive.

Leon had never felt so relieved.

He turned to face you as you opened the door, looking up at him with tired eyes.

Your expression turned to full-blown concern when you took in his appearance, reaching out to touch the blood staining his bare chest. “Are you okay?”

Leon placed his fingers over your hand, holding it close to him, the warmth of it more of a balm than the sun ever was. “I’m fine. It isn’t mine.”

You sighed, eased by his words. “You found the bear, I take it?”

He nodded solemnly. “It won’t bother us anymore.” You didn’t reply and he looked back at Wolfie’s unconscious form once more. “How did everything go? Will he be alright?”

“It went great. He got stitches and a blood transfusion, and they kept him overnight for observation. Went ahead and got him a few shots when they said he was in the clear this morning. He took it all like a champ.” You dropped your hand, to Leon’s chagrin, grabbing your bag from the passenger seat. “They told me to change his bandages every few hours and monitor for any infection. Gave me antibiotics and a few days' worth of painkillers. He should be just fine.”

“What did you tell them about the injury?” he questioned, suddenly concerned by what information you might have let slip in your distress.

“Don’t worry, I told them he got attacked while I was out camping. No specifics, I promise.” A look of realization then dawned on your features, to his confusion, before you began sifting through your bag.

You then pulled out a blue collar from its depths. It jingled as you held it up to Leon, shot tags dangling behind a bone-shaped one at the front, sporting the dog’s name and what he assumed was your number.

“Picked this up before I took him from the clinic. Hope he’ll wear it,” you said, shrugging as you stood from the car.

A flood of emotions washed over Leon, then, namely an overwhelming sense of gratitude for what you had done for him. It went deeper than the collar in your hand, deeper than even saving his dog.

You had faced a storm for him, soaked to the bone and afraid. You suffered being lost in darkness with an injured knee, even if it was only briefly. You drove through a torrent and stayed up all night to make sure his companion would live. You witnessed him covered in blood and filth and you reached out…

You were always reaching out.

Before he could think it through, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. He felt your plush body pressed against his hard edges—heard the way you gasped in shock. You almost immediately settled into it, though, holding him in turn despite the drying grime flaking onto your clothes.

“Thank you, for everything,” he murmured, face buried into your neck, the natural smell of you drifting to his nose. It was all at once sweet and grounding.

There was so much more he wanted to say, but this would have to suffice, the words caught in his throat.

“I’d do it all again in a heartbeat,” you whispered, your small hands sliding across his back soothingly.

The warmth of you made him ache, made his eyes burn, never wanting to let you go.

He knew he must.

The walk back to the house was a silent one, the only sounds the rainwater dripping onto the ground and the squelching of mud underfoot, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The two of you were just exhausted and still reeling from how the night had spiraled to near tragedy.

Leon glanced down at Wolfie’s sleeping form in his arms, so drugged up on pain meds he likely wouldn’t wake for anything. He gave the dog’s head a gentle stroke, beyond relieved that, for now, it wouldn’t be the last time.

The three of you entered Leon’s home, deciding that you would bring Wolfie’s bed and blankets downstairs, nestling them beside the fireplace to keep him comfortable and prevent him from exerting himself more than necessary once he was up and moving again.

Once the dog was settled in, Leon could only stand and stare, worried that if he took his eyes off of him for a moment, he might die in his absence.

“I’ll make you up a bath, Leon,” you said quietly from the kitchen, already bringing a large pot to boil on the stove. “You could really use one.”

He sighed, finally dragging his gaze from Wolfie so that he could level it on you. “Don’t worry about that. I can just clean up at the lake.”

You huffed indignantly, approaching him and taking him in—in all his filthy, monstrous glory. “No way. You need a nice hot bath, and that’s that.”

“You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” he replied, scoffing good-naturedly. In truth, the thought of you caring for him like this made his heart beat a little faster.

“Oh, I know,” you said with a smile, one that was so sweet, he would hold on to the sight of it for the rest of his life, “but it’s what you like about me.”

He found himself chuckling for the first time since last night, always so surprised by your ability to pull him out of his misery.

“Not the only thing,” he said lowly, fingers twitching at his sides to reach out and touch you again.

Your cheeks flushed pink at his words, but you shook your head and laughed. “Go on, sit down for a bit while I finish what I started.”

He wanted to argue—to assist you in your task—because being waited on like this was something he had never been used to. Instead, he did as he was told, plopping down next to Wolfie on the floor and petting him to pass the time.

He had almost fallen asleep again, unable to fight his eyes from drooping closed, when you called to him, informing him his bath was ready. He stood and stretched, yawning as he met you at the entrance of the side room.

“Here,” you told him, a pile of his clothes, a towel, and a washcloth in your arms, “knock yourself out. Well, don’t really.”

He took them gratefully, smiling at your ridiculous comment as he thanked you and disappeared behind the corner.

He quickly shed what was left of his tattered clothes, dropping them haphazardly onto the floor before stepping into the tub and lowering himself in the water.

It was hot, but it didn’t burn. In fact, it was rather soothing as it lapped at his skin. The tub was almost too small for him, however, his knees peeking out of the water from having to fold his long legs.

It was cramped but not completely uncomfortable. He sunk in a little further, letting out a pleased sigh.

This was definitely better than the lake, that was for sure.

Before he could relax fully, he caught sight of something on the side table next to him. He turned his head and instantly regretted it.

It was a makeup mirror you had brought, and it was angled in a way he could stare directly at his own reflection.

It made him flinch.

He didn’t look away, however, gritting his teeth against the image of himself he had loathed from the moment he transformed. But not only was he faced with his monstrous visage once more, he could now see the blood and dirt caked onto his skin, exposing him for what he truly was.

Something that was meant to kill.

He fought the urge to shatter the glass, not wanting to destroy something that belonged to you, instead leaning over and turning it away.

As he laid back in the water and began scrubbing the grime from his body with the rag you had provided for him, a barrage of thoughts overtook his tired mind, all of them relating to you.

He couldn’t bear to look at himself, yet you rarely took your eyes off of him.

He was disgusted by his own existence and the form he was forced to live in, yet you treated him like he was normal. Like he was a person.

He quickly finished bathing, the water starting to cool, but he was in no rush to leave, allowing himself this moment of peace and to think.

He rested his clawed hand against his chest and could still feel where your small palm had been placed there, could still feel the way your flesh gave under his tight hold when had embraced you. The warmth that radiated from your very being.

His hand lowered mindlessly as he lingered on the image of you stripping bare to him on that boat, offering him your impish little smirk and batted lashes over twinkling eyes.

It lowered further as he thought of your lips, wondered how they’d feel against his skin—how soft they would be.

He hissed as his hand gently wrapped around the base of his cock, almost shocked to feel it was already achingly hard.

Leon couldn’t remember the last time he had touched himself like this.

In the beginning, he worried he would hurt himself, what with the small daggers that were his new fingers. Eventually, he dared to wander—carefully, of course—and soon it was one of the few things human left of him, to have this libido to relieve. But as the years passed and his body changed, he hardly had the urge.

And now here he was, fisting his cock at the thought of you.

He held back a groan as he slid his thumb across his slit, imagining it was your tongue instead.

He could picture your pretty eyes looking up at him as you took him into your mouth, how you’d tease him with kitten licks and the gentle scrape of your teeth until he was begging you for more, how you’d pull away just to level him with that mischievous smirk you wore so well before you’d cave and take him to the hilt.

Leon gasped as he picked up the speed of his pumping fist, lifting his hips above the cooled water, trying to avoid sloshing it onto the floor with the motion.

He then thought of your cunt, how sweet it would taste as he laved it with his tongue—mused about what precious little sounds he could pull from those plush, kissable lips of yours. He could almost feel how your fingers would card through his hair, yank it to get him closer to where you wanted him; how he’d tease you the way you did him before finally conceding, your desperation for him almost more delicious than the very essence of you that he fed upon.

He grit his teeth as he neared the edge, fighting to hold back.

Too soon. It was too soon.

He paused his movements, taking in a slow deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart, letting the wave of pleasure that nearly crested over him fade to a lapping tide.

His mind slipped back into his fantasy, then, needing to finish what he started before he was driven mad with desire.

He imagined you underneath him now, bodies flush together, the head of his cock sliding against you—not a taunt but a preparation for what was to come.

He wondered how tight you’d be as he pushed inside, how warm and wet and inviting, squeezing his hand as he emulated the scene from his head.

How well would you take him?

Although much of his body had changed over the years—grown—what sat beneath his belt had not. This was not a concern for him, however, having been well-endowed even for a human man of his former stature. In fact, he almost seemed more… proportionate… now.

Would he be too much?

Or would you plead for him to go harder and faster? Deeper?

Leon couldn’t stop the near growl that escaped him as he imagined the way you’d cry out into the crook of his neck, his name like a breathless prayer against his skin. He could feel you wrap your legs around him, scraping your nails across his spine hard enough to draw blood.

He was on the precipice once more, but this time he didn’t hold back.

He thought of you looking into his eyes as you came undone beneath him, wide and full of unshed tears, overwhelmed by the euphoria coursing through you. His body shuttered at the idea of your walls tightening impossibly around him, pulsing and wet.

He managed to bite back the whine that clawed up his throat as his cock twitched, his seed spurting across his chest and stomach.

He collapsed back into the tub, his mind so gloriously blank and full of fuzzy warmth as he caught his breath.

And then the realization hit him.

He had just masturbated. To you. While you were just on the other side of the wall, without even a door to fully separate the room.

He was flooded with remorse, then, wondering if he had managed to keep quiet enough so that you wouldn’t hear or suspect his reckless sin against you.

He stilled, listening intently to any sounds in the house, his inhuman ears able to pick out the overlapping breaths of you and Wolfie over the whistling wind outside, right there in the dining room.

He swallowed the lump of shame that formed in his throat and roughly wiped the spend from his flesh, the harsh scrape of coarse fabric a small punishment for his transgression.

As he dried himself and changed into sleepwear, he wondered how disgusted you’d be with him if you knew just what he was thinking.

Surely, you’d never look at him the same.

He wanted to blame his exhaustion from a sleepless night, but he knew deep down this was bound to happen eventually. Your very existence was a temptation to him, after all.

He took a steadying breath before he finally turned the corner to face you, pleasantly surprised and more than a little relieved that you were fast asleep, curled up on his couch with a blanket draped across your legs.

He smiled softly as he approached you, all worry forgotten as a swell of affection replaced it.

You looked so sweet laying there, head resting upon the pillow you must have brought from upstairs and your pressed hands, your breaths puffing out a strand of hair hanging over your mouth. Leon quietly chuckled as he tucked it behind your ear and pulled the blanket up and around your shoulders to keep you warm before standing upright once more.

He knew as he gazed upon you that regardless of whether you returned his feelings or not, his own might never leave him. He would have to make his peace with that.

He sighed, closing his eyes tightly before opening them once more, deciding that was a problem for later.

He then sat beside Wolfie, checking on him briefly before laying down right there on the floor, exhaustion overtaking any real need for comfort. Not like he hadn’t done it the first night of your arrival, anyway.

As he drifted into a deep slumber…

He couldn’t help but dream of you.

+++

The night had been a long one.

You had sat in the emergency room of the vet clinic with Wolfie for hours, watching as they tried to keep him alive.

You would never get the image of his terrified eyes out of your head, looking to you for help or for comfort as people he didn’t know surrounded him while he couldn’t even move.

You didn’t let your tears escape until they told you he was stable, locking yourself in their bathroom across the hall and sobbing into your hands, the events of the night finally catching up to you.

He would live.

You weren’t sure you could forgive yourself if he didn’t. You wondered if Leon would have.

Oh, Leon, you thought worriedly, I hope you’re okay.

You wished you could get ahold of him somehow to let him know Wolfie was alive, aware of the fact that even if he owned a cell phone, the village had no service anyway. You were half tempted to drive out to see him and tell him the news, but you didn’t want to leave Wolfie alone for that long.

You then recalled the bear and Leon’s promise to kill it, hoping desperately it didn’t hurt him. You didn’t know what you’d do if you drove back just to find him bleeding out in the mud like he had found Wolfie, the thought piercing your heart like a bullet.

To calm yourself, you replayed the day in your head, focusing only on all the good parts.

You thought of how he opened up to you at his friends’ graves, how he held your hand as you sat in the dirt together.

You thought of how he slipped his palms across your waist on the boat, how he spoke so lowly in your ear, how your faces got so close in the water.

You thought of how he stroked your hair while you sat by the fireplace, the affection so freely given it was as if he couldn’t stop himself from touching you.

You thought about how concerned he was for you when you returned to the house after finding Wolfie, how he was upset you had gotten hurt and lost in the woods and blamed himself.

And then you thought of what he said before you left for town:

“I might lose Wolfie, but I can’t lose you too.”

Those words were looping in your brain over and over.

You knew he was just concerned with your safety, that he’d probably feel guilty if something happened to you while you were trying to save his dog, but the way he said it… The way he looked at you…

“I can’t lose you.”

It was like he meant it.

Despite your anxiety, you managed to nap a bit on the bench outside of the observation room, asking the veterinarian to wake you when Wolfie came to.

In the morning, while he was still out cold, you took a brief stroll outside of the clinic, making your way into the neighboring pet shop to bide the time.

As you passed the shelves of toys and supplies, your eyes caught on a large blue collar, realizing that it was about Wolfie’s size. You held it aloft as you considered buying it, thinking it was almost silly to put a collar on a half-feral dog.

But then you thought of the other outsiders that might appear in the village every so often. You worried they might dog-nap Wolfie for his friendliness or kill him for his intimidating appearance, deciding it may be worth the purchase, just in case.

Besides, Leon seemed drawn to the color blue, if the majority of his shirts and his preference regarding the castle’s art was anything to go by. It was oddly endearing imagining the scorpion man and his wolf-dog matching in such a way.

After buying it and getting an engraved name tag, you returned to the clinic, petting Wolfie and offering him soft words of encouragement as the vet gave him some much-needed shots.

The rain finally subsided as you made your way back to the village, your nerves still alight despite Wolfie’s improved condition.

When you finally pulled up to the dirt road near the lodge, you were overjoyed to see Leon appear beside the car.

Your heart was in your throat, however, when got a good look at him, his face and still-shirtless torso covered in dirt and so much blood.

You couldn’t stop the instinctual need to touch him, reaching out and placing your hand against his stained chest. “Are you okay?”

He gently laid his clawed fingers across your knuckles, pressing your palm into his skin, as if your very being was a solace to him. “I’m fine. It isn’t mine.”

Your relief at that was palpable, beyond overjoyed that he was perfectly safe. Though, the blood had to come from somewhere, and it wasn’t all Wolfie’s. “You found the bear, I take it?”

Leon’s eyes seemed to darken, but he nodded, replying, “It won’t bother us anymore.”

The answer was jarringly cryptic, and Leon seemed more upset to admit he killed the bear than you would have thought, considering how eager he was to do it before you left.

You shook away your thoughts as he asked you questions, the conversation turning to Wolfie’s health.

You then recalled your purchase at the pet store, pulling it out of your bag and waving it in front of Leon. “Picked this up before I took him from the clinic. Hope he’ll wear it.”

You stood from the car, ready to get back to the house and take a nice, long nap, when Leon wrapped his arms around you, to your utter shock.

He held you close to him, the strength of it enough to feel your bodies meld together, but not enough to hurt you.

It took you a moment to register it all, short-circuiting at the feeling of him against you, but you eventually hugged him in return, shivering as he tucked his face into the crook of your neck and let his breath fan across your skin.

“Thank you. For everything.” His voice was tight in his throat and it made your heart ache to hear it.

It was the least you could do, a part of you deep down blaming yourself for what happened to Wolfie, because you had kept Leon out longer than he wanted. What if Wolfie had only been in the woods waiting for the two of you to come back? Maybe if you had agreed to return to the house before the storm hit, none of this would have happened to begin with.

Instead of saying that, you only replied, “I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.”

It was still the truth, as you would do anything to protect this half-man and his dog—willing to suffer more than just a nasty cut and a sleepless night if it meant they were safe.

Leon pulled away, to your despair, and grabbed Wolfie, the three of you heading back to the house.

As you set up Wolfie near the fireplace, you couldn’t help but notice the way Leon wouldn’t take his eyes off the sleeping dog, and although you understood it, he needed to wash the blood and grime from his body and get some much-needed rest.

If your night had been rough, you couldn’t imagine what his had been like.

He argued against you making him up a hot bath, but you wouldn’t hear it, telling him your decision was final.

“You’re stubborn as hell, you know that?” he said in faux annoyance.

You replied, smiling, “Oh, I know, but it’s what you like about me.”

“Not the only thing.” The words and the way he said them made a tingle run up your spine, but you were quick to shoo him off, taking a deep breath as you went about your task of filling the tub.

You changed quickly into your pajamas before sending Leon to his bath, flopping onto the couch with a quiet groan after fetching your pillow and a blanket from upstairs.

You thought that maybe you could sleep forever as you shifted, getting comfortable on the old piece of furniture. You wanted to wait for Leon, though, staring up at the ceiling in quiet cogitation.

Despite your fear that you were the reason Wolfie was out in the storm in the first place, you couldn’t understate your role in saving his life. Had you not been there, Leon wouldn’t have been able to do anything, and you could sense the distress that caused him at the realization.

You worried deeply about what might happen after you leave.

A stray tear escaped your eye and you battled the awful thought of one or both of them dying out here in this village, all alone, with no one to call for.

Wolfie was old and this place was dangerous. And even if Leon ended up being fine physically, you knew his loneliness would eat him alive, especially with the inevitable loss of his dog an ever-looming threat.

You squeezed your eyes shut, wiping them to stop you from crying.

You thought about Leon’s smile instead. Thought of his voice and his laugh and the way he looked at you. Like you were normal. Like you were important.

You could still feel the way his arms wrapped around you, how safe you felt. How cherished.

You sighed deeply, turning over to stare at Wolfie, watching the slow rise and fall of his side as he breathed. You reached out your hand to him, gently stroking his head, his fur soft and warm.

You wondered as your eyes drooped shut and your mind began to fade to unconsciousness, your fingers slowly falling away from Wolfie’s form:

How could you leave them now?

--------------------

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lagncx · 8 months ago

Text

Bones and all

Astarion x reader Tw:….bones…and all. Cannibalism and gore. Cazador is a tw tw: Angst bad bad bad angst please please please do not read if you can’t handle gore,heartbreak, cazador abuse. FUCK IM CRYING this is based on the movie so yes I’m sorry if your disturbed

-///////////////-

Astarion followed you and the guest you held hands with leading them around the corner under the bridge to get into Baldurs gate he stood far away hiding in the grass and shadows. He saw you at the entrance next to sharess caress. He was almost gonna pass by you but he stopped when he heard you sniff right by his ear like you were smelling him…he turned ready to tell you off but you were gone stopping to talk to a baldurian, a elf handsome and saw the way he laughed and cracked jokes with you. But something was familiar about this interaction that seemed innocent. Your eyes you looked at him up and down not as just some one night companion but in hunger. Like he did when he was leading Cazadors own food to their demise So here he was watching you feeling like a perv seeing the way your hands moved down the boys body you kissed him. Astarion was ready to leave thinking he may have been wrong till his nose twitched it was metallic that filled his nose it made his body ache his stomach whined and he turned back you slit the boys throat. Astarion watched as you started to feast on the man drinking from his cut licking up the blood you were savage losing yourself in bliss Astarion watched in envy he only wondered what it was like…so fresh not just left overs from Cazador. You stood up taking a deep breath clothes stained you looked at the white haired elf “You! Why you lurking around?” You wiped blood on your arm Astarion swallowed “I noticed you had took him far. Away and I thought…” he was cut off “I was gonna eat him? Well I did so he’s all yours if you want. I knew you were like me when I passed you” You scratched your head looking at the way Astarion just stared at you his eyes all big but you saw the hunger you could smell it on him but he stood there planted you just laughed “you shy?” You sighed grabbing the dead corpse pulling it towards Astarion who backed up a bit stumbling on a rock you just kicked the body towards him “you look fucking parched. So go ahead. I don’t bite” Astarion barely laughed a little he got on his knees and looked at the elf…the smell flooded his senses but the poor man’s face Astarion closed his eyes “I don’t-…I don’t think I can do it.” He said standing back up you looked at him the way he avoided looking your way or at the corpse you just sighed “alright.” You looked at the man picking him up dragging him down towards the shipping water way laying him next to the water. Astarion followed keeping distance “But you know master wouldn’t want you to eat without his permission first” you stopped looking back at him “what?” You laughed “what master?” Astarion scoffed “Cazador. Obviously” you stood up walking towards him he pushed you back but you just grabbed him and he struggled hitting you “Sit still!” He did and you turned his head seeing the two faded scars. “Oh…shit. You’re a spawn. Of course.” You let him go “yea…so?” You scratched your head looking at the water covered with light from the moon “Uhm…do you want to go to grab a bite?” You looked at Astarion chewing on your lip. “no.”

————

You thanked the waiter taking your plate and you laid back “hm, I love a good steak.” You closed your eyes Astarion looked down at his cup still half full with water. You blinked. “So how long you’ve been a spawn?” Astarion shrugged “a while…” you sat up “so this master of yours…does he not feed you?” “He does, he does…just not enough and it’s usually leftovers or animals. He sends us out to lure him food, people.” You crossed your arms watching Astarions little pout. So he’s some baby bat “so you’ve never ate from someone?” He shook his head “w-what’s it like?” You stiffened at the question “sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfy.” He looked down. Maybe this was a teaching moment “it’s uh-… it’s everything you think it is it’s a beautiful thing really the taste the smell…the bliss” Astarion looked at you like he was trying to experience through you. “And the pain.” Pain? “Every time i…feast on a person I feel guilt. Pain. I can’t control it. I can but when I’m starving when I’m so hungry I need to eat.” Astarion grabbed your hand “it’s okay.”

————

from then on Astarion would always visit you during the night making excuses to his siblings where he was going. He felt like a kid again sneaking out to go see you. You would eat off of people sometimes always asking if he wanted some but he just couldn’t do it you never forced him and you respected his boundaries. Astarion also started to realize how cruel Cazador really was watching his siblings be hit and carved into made him sick he would go to his siblings who would curse at him to leave but Astarion stitched their deep wounds and cleaned the blood off of them. He had no where to go if he did want to escape Cazador. ———

You yawned which made Astarion stop reading “there you go once again. Is my book boring you.” Star scoffed closing his book you grabbed for him. It was some stupid book you found in a store but Astarion loved it, it was about a girl who suffered an accident that left her face disfigured and her father was a surgeon who would take the faces off the other girls for his daughter. “No star continue it’s your voice it soothes me.” You closed your eyes laying down on his lap and he looked down at you watching the sun that you wanted to watch as it fell caused an orange hue on your face. Astarion continued “Her fingers slowly, gently ran over the unconscious woman’s features feeling the way her nose had a small dip and her jaw so clean and visible. The way her lips were cracked and dry but still just as beautiful as the rest of her.” Astarion flipped the page “is this an envious thing or?” You asked waving away the flies that landed on you “hm, I don’t think so, envy maybe but not pure jealousy. I think she just misses being able to see herself. Poor thing really.” Astarion sighed you just hummed “well beauty is always fading really what counts is on the inside. Astarion laughed “well I guess I won’t have to worry about the first part”

A few hours into the night you looked up at him pushing the book out the way of your view of his face he just looked down at you. “The moon maiden blessed you. I’ve never seen a star shine brighter than the moon.” You touched his cheek even though you both were cold as ice Astarion leaned into your hand feeling warmth and safety and so did you. He leaned down nerves rising and you blinked pulling away from him Astarion licked his lips “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” You shook your head “I’m sorry I know I initiated it but I- I don’t know Astarion.” You rubbed your face “where are you going?” You walked down the hill “I’m leaving” Astarion panicked

“Wait please! I love you! Don’t leave me alone. I want to spend more time with you before I go back home.” You turned around looking at him “go Home! You already belong to someone you can’t love me we can’t have a normal life we can’t Be! Normal.” Astarion frowned focusing on one part of what you were bullshitting about “excuse me? belong? I belong to no one.” Astarion chucked the book at your face You shook your head “I didn’t mean it that way it’s just.” You looked back at Astarion but he was gone. You looked down at the book picking it up.

————

Astarion wiped his tears and regulated his breathing. He was panicking how could you say that. He already didn’t feel like himself his identity was only really…him when he was with you. He entered Cazadors home Ignoring his sister that called his name “Astarion wait! Cazador wants you!” Astarion stopped and turned “what?” She just sighed “he wants you in his room.” She looked uneasy “for?” He questioned before feeling a hand on his shoulder which made a chill run up his spine his ears dropped “does it matter little star. If I call for you you come, no questions asked.” Cazador tightened his grip leading him down the dark hall the sun blocked by the red colored windows “I’m not sure if it’s just because I’ve been neglecting you but I’ve been seeing less and less of you Star. You’ve been behaving haven’t you?” Astarion nodded “yes master of course I’ve just been out looking for more people to bring to you.” Astarion smiled at Cazador who kept a straight face looking into his eyes then laughed “oh my your so good to me!” He led Astarion into his room “sit.” Astarion sat on the edge of the bed his stomach turning “you know I was deciding if I wanted to choose you or your sister. Gods knows your brother never shuts up” Cazador took shaving razor blade and astarion stood up “sit back down little star. It’ll be over quick” Astarion whimpered “no no, please don’t i don’t know what I did wrong please dont.” Cazador shushed him “you knew it would happen little star now lay down. I won’t tell you again” Astarion shook his head “no I won’t.” He stood his ground looking cazador in the eyes. Cazador laughed “are you puffing your chest up to me boy?” Cazador slapped Astarion and pushed him down “lay there and do as I say all you have to do is shut your mouth.” Cazador hummed over the sound of Astarions muffled screams

……

————

Astarion shook leaving the room snot and tears on his face he closed the door roaming the halls finding his room and closing the door behind him. He looked for a shirt there were some but would need some tweaking

Astarion stitched the holes in a night shirt of his groaning in frustration when his fingers shook trying to stick the thread through the sleeve fabric. He felt so much. Pain, burn, loss, sadness, and Rage. His brain was pounding like a painful melody. He whispered to himself cursing Cazador. His back was burning blood dripping down his back he felt it the way it trailed down into other cuts he sobbed sniffing and trying to focus. He heard his window open “Astarion…” He paused and turned to look at you standing up and backing against a wall “you shouldn’t be here.” You shook your head “I’m sorry okay? I didn’t mean what I said” you grabbed his hand feeling the way it shook “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You squeezed his hand trying to stop it from shaking. Astarion pushed you back gently then turned around his back exposed to you and he heard the way you yelled it being muffled with a hand on your mouth you were hyperventilating you sobbed and gently touched around the cuts making him flinch and whimper him gripping your wrist “..s-stop.” He ordered hand shaking as his grip tightened you whispered “oh Astarion…oh gods. What happened? Who…who did this?” You were met with silence but you had to be strong. For him. You took a deep breath why did you even let yourself get involved with this spawn. Now your heart was stolen from you he didn’t know it but he was holding it ever since the day you met your heart was his now. You took your hand and put it on his waist “let me help…please?” Astarion nodded “door…lock it please. Just incase” you did what he said before returning to him “You want a bath? I can wash you off but it’s gonna sting okay?” Astarion nodded his eyes still dropping tears you lead him to the bathroom (please idk if they have bathrooms…) when it was prepared you let him undress himself turning away from him. A small broken “ok” was said and immediately you went to his side sitting on the ground it didn’t take long for the blood to dye the water a bright red when you rinsed his wound the mess turning into a scripture “what in the hells. This isn’t just some beating. Astarion was it cazador? Your master?” Astarion shushed you his eyes in shock his pupils small “Don’t say his name!” You closed your mouth he was afraid and angry. He looked weak. And you could smell him the hunger but it was more savage. But you know he wouldn’t eat someone he needed a nudge. But not right now “okay…” you whispered wetting his hair and wiping the snot away from his face seeing his teeth marks on his bottom lip which was red and swollen he must’ve been biting into it the whole time. You paced around the room astarion was getting dressed you didn’t want to baby him with that but he called for you and you walked to him he was holding his shirt “help me…it hurts to lift my arms.” You nodded “of course” you stepped closer kneeling in front of him “let’s try an easier way, arms out.” You slipped his arms through the sleeves gently standing back up putting his head in the shirt water from his curls flicking on your cheek you leaned on him his hands held onto your sides for support face in your chest you put the shirt over his back not touching it at all letting it fall. You pulled away but Astarion held onto you sobbing into your chest you stood there knowing you couldn’t hug him. Your arms stung with the need to embrace him but you just stood there.

————

Astarion laid on top of you. He decided to get rid of the shirt so the air could cool down the burn of his scars you put some cream on them to avoid any infection you arm rested on the back of his neck. Astarion couldn’t sleep. Any candles had burned out in the room it was dark. Astarion looked up at you seeing you just as awake as him he stretched his neck out pecking your lips. You looked at him smiling “you need to rest…try and sleep” Astarion shook his head “can’t everything hurts.” He looked at the door. “If he comes in here he can’t see you…he will kill you im sure of it.” He whispered “I’m planning on it. He better get me out of the picture before I hang him on my wall.” Astarion shared the same image with you he wanted revenge too but he was too weak “Astarion you need to eat…eat something…alive” astarion shook his head “No I won’t I can’t do it.” You groaned “You’re not hearing me!” You yelled astarion slapped your cheek softly shushing you “Are you stupid what did I sa-“

“oh don’t worry I’ve been in here watching.” Astarion froze his throat got watery and he felt bile rise in his throat running into the bathroom throwing up. You got up looking at Cazador “Hello, we haven’t met” he said you scoffed “Uh huh, names y/n” You stood up keeping a hand in your pocket “Y/n! Just go.” Astarion walked to you pushing you towards the window but you stood there rooted to the floor “Y/n! Please” he begged Cazador grabbed Astarion by his hair but you kicked Cazadors leg in making him fall on the floor before he could pull Astarion to him you grabbed Astarion by his arm putting him behind you “Do Not Touch Him.” You said looking at Cazador as he kneeled down to you trying to get up taking a second to stable himself “I was simply going to tell him it’s rude to interrupt us.” You shook your head “He’s fine right where he’s at. But I got a problem with you. Who do you think you are taking a blade to him?” You got in Cazadors face pushing him back Astarion got in between you both “Y/n stop.” He begged. But it was for nothing Cazador was ready to push you to your limits and you were already ready to blow up on him. “Y/n is your name? Beautiful so tell me what does my sweet star have that drew you to him. Was it his charm or that body of his cause many many people have had the same experience.” You lunged at him knocking astarion on his back which made him yell out Feet could be heard rushing to the room Astarions siblings running in “Master? Astarion!” 2 or three ran to Astarions side pulling him safely away from the mob that started to break you from Cazador planting punches and attacking you Astarion felt dizzy the pain from his back made it hard to focus “Stop it!” Cazador looked at Astarion grabbing him and throwing him out the room locking the door. Astarion begged “Please Cazador don’t! I’ll do anything I’ll stop seeing them! Don’t hurt them.” Astarion heard breaking glass and your screams Pierce the quiet hall Cazador spoke through the door “I will forever take away everything from you. You will learn to obey me! You cause a lot of trouble now someone has to die. And unfortunately that someone is like me. Now listen to the sound of your lovers flesh being torn and feasted on by your brothers and sisters!” Astarion screamed in terror “NO! Don’t! Please! Someone stop them!” Astarion heard two of his sisters struggle to pull the rest off of you Cazador yelled at them but they continued to help you till one of them was attacked the other opening the door for astarion who saw his sister being feasted on by one of his brothers listening to her scream out. The other being pinned against a wall by cazador. Astarion saw three of the spawn chewing down on your flesh seeing you rip one of the spawn off made astarion get out of his paralysis and use a letter opener stabbing one in the throat. It was pure chaos but Cazador had called them off letting go of the sister and exiting the door but not before forcing Astarions head into one of your open wounds making you yell in pain “Say your goodbyes. Don’t make me have to go through this again.” Letting go he left slamming the door.

————

you and him laid there Astarion cried and apologized so many times for what happened you shushed him. “Stop…” you said “no it’s my fault I should’ve stayed away” he sobbed biting his hand muffling his sobs “no…no it’s fine…I would’ve…never met you.” You said “that’s the point. You would’ve been better off.” You pulled him up to your face and kissed him “ I need you to listen to me” astarion nodded keeping silent “you need to eat. Your so weak and hungry. Stop denying yourself.” Astarion looked over at his brother who laid there with the letter opener in his throat “N-no I can’t eat him I don’t want to.” You shook your head grabbing his hand placing it on an open wound “no not him. I’m not asking you to eat him I want you to eat me.” You sobbed Astarion scoffed shaking his head “no no…I’m not going to eat you y/n.” He held you close “you have to. Don’t make me die like this some corpse to be forgotten” astarion shook his head “I won’t do it. I can’t forget you. Your not going to die”

“My star. Please…I’ve never had someone to love and now…now I love you, you have my heart I want to be with you forever and I want you to grow strong. Eat me, love me and eat. I want you to eat me. Love me, please! please just love me!” You cried out in pain he saw the way your eyes looked around your vision blurring you were growing delirious and you smelled…so sweet. “Your siblings…they really were starving but they left me for you. Eat me please astarion Bones and All don’t leave me like this. Stop starving yourself. Just eat. I want you to feed I want you to be happy baby.” You ran your fingers through his hair. “No…no..I can’t…I can’t stop.” He smelled your wound licking up the blood sobbing “I’m sorry…I can’t I can’t stop.” He sunk his teeth into you you gasped laying your hand on the back of his head pushing him down into you. Astarions stomach was jumping with glee but his throat had a lump his tears falling out as your blood filled his stomach that hunger he never felt till now. He weeped crying as he sucked the life out of you “now I’ll be with you forever…just feed my star. And you’ll heal right up.” His sobs choked him up making him cough blood spilling over his mouth and his nose. You screamed when you felt him bite deeper Astarion held your hand tight and you returned the force you loved him. After 30 mins you stopped screaming after 10 your hand lost its grip fingers cracking under astarions pressure. Astarion pulled away not a drop left in you and he covered his mouth backing away from your corpse crying in his hands.

——-

But that was centuries ago. He closed the book you had gave him sticking it away under his bedroll in his tent. He stepped out the tent looking at all his companions group for dinner and Astarion looked down at the ground, ever since then he stayed from people letting people in cause last time he did they died because of him. By his hand. “Astarion. I brought you this.” Astarion looked up at Tav in front of him “this time Wyll wanted to contribute so you wouldn’t be so hungry and I could actually walk straight.” Tav handed him a cup full of blood “join us for a bite? Just for tonight?” Tav smiled kindly. Astarions stomach turned but he felt a nudge. His throat clenched he rubbed the back of his neck the chill leaving him “…yea okay.” that night he connected with everyone laughing and he felt that warmth he felt long ago, with you.

——

‘Make me feel like something powerful, it’s crawling deep inside of me…turn me into a poison tree

#writing #fanfiction #x reader #fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #bones and all #fandom #angst

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