#and hunter looks more sickly than he already is

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

luz and king probably would have fit better but i dont know how to draw king so hunter it is.

[vxnuslogy]

– rainswept sins, you're forgiven.

pairing: sunday x gn!reader

premise: in the presence of the harsh downpour of rain, you and sunday let it was away your past sins and learn how to finally forgive.

– warnings: slight angst if you squint.

– author's note: me when i get motivated to write when tiktok shows me random poetry and they remind me of sunday <3. if any of the hunters sees this, yes the title is intentional LMAOO. art credits to @.helen_zzhao. | 2.4k words.

what a dull day today was your first thought. here you were, stranded on the planet of mendasia after a mission, clutching your bag filled with exotic flower. the downpour of the rain was unrelenting as you heaved out a sigh. you’ve already sent a message in your group chat for someone to come pick you up after not heeding kafka’s warnings. even under the rain, the wasteland that was once graced by idrila, looked beautiful. still carrying that paradise people sang about in ballads. 

the sight reminded you of that fateful day of your aeon’s final departure.

you were taken back to the days where everything was simple. how you longed to watch the stars pass you by in a blur while adventuring. the golden ticket hidden in your breast pocket suddenly felt heavier than it should have. it was always like this; remembering was painful but you couldn’t bring yourself to forget.

“you’ll catch a cold, mx. [name].” the rain over your head ceased as the figure of a certain halovian came into view. he still had a soft smile on his face when the raindrops soaked his hair and wings. he looked more like a wet cat than an angel sent from above. speaking of wings, when you look up, a surge of pride washed over your heart when you saw his wings in their full glory.

“they’re beautiful…” you reply in a whisper. hand coming to smooth out the feathers and gliding over the golden exoskeleton you created after your last mission in the capital of passion. you don’t miss the slight shudder that went through him when your hand touched his feathers. “have they been serving you well?”

sunday stands beside you, shielding you away from the rain. his gloved hand tugging at your sleeve, pulling you closer to his side. “they have, thank you for creating them.”

you hum in response. pushing away your drenched hair, you soak in his new clothes. he still wore a black shirt with the same gold engravings of the order that’s layered with a white coat and a black corset hugging his abdomen with matching white pants and his usual shoes. when you peer over his shoulder you take notice of the small cape in dark blue. sunday cleared his throat after noticing your staring.

“miss kafka had them tailored for me,” he said, voice laced with shyness. “do they look strange?”

“you look beautiful in white.”

shocked and unprepared for your straightforwardness, sunday couldn’t help the flush that creeped up his cheeks and ears. wings flapping slightly in secret delight as he looked forward. a curled gloved hand hiding half of his face when he muttered a soft thank you. 

maybe your nostalgia was fueling your bravery. you weren’t this blunt and forward with your compliments to sunday’s beauty, but today you let yourself heave out a sigh in contentment. sunday was always a sight to behold, premium eye candy if you will. you stopped eyeing the man when your conversation with elio replayed in your mind.

“you cannot favor him over the rest, [name].” destiny’s slave said as he sat down behind his desk. 

“i’m not favoring him.” you weakly argued, taking the seat across from him. you had always teased his appearance for looking like a sickly victorian child in a pandemic, but you figured now was not a good time to joke.

the man sighed and leaned back on his chair. “what’s really bothering you, [name]?”

you pause for a moment before replying.

“maybe recruiting sunday was the wrong choice.” you don’t point out how his eyes widened. rarely do you question elio’s intentions of recruiting other hunters, he’s done you a big favor in the past and questioning him would be rather ungrateful. but still, you can’t help but let the monster in your heart claw at your ribs. “he doesn’t belong here.”

“and where do you suppose he will go? the express?”

you opened and closed your mouth, no reply leaving your lips as destiny’s slave sighed.

“you cannot project your wishes to be redeemed onto him.” he stands up with his arms crossed behind back. voice unwavering and so sure it left you looking down on your curled hands. feeling like a child being scolded for speaking out of turn. “you’ve made your choice. let him make his own.”

“mx. [name]?”

you snapped out of your flashback when sunday took hold of your shoulder. grip tight with concern and eyes furrowed with confusion. shaking your head you clutch your bag tighter and sigh for the nth time. “i’m sorry what were you saying?”

he pressed his lips to a thin line, letting his hand retreat to his side. “i said we should wait for the rain to stop before meeting with the others.”

oh, that’s right. sunday must have seen your message and came to pick you up. staring up at the sky, you try to predict how long you’ll be stranded under the rain with only his wing and being shielding you from the cold.

“is your wing tired yet?” you ask and look at him. “it might take a while before the rain stops.”

with a small smile he shook his head no. a chuckle leaving his lips when his hand came to fidget with his gold earring. a small habit you notice he’d do whenever he’s deep in thought. “don’t worry, this is a good form of exercise for me.”

you only hummed. eyes staring at your feet and the nearby puddles of water caused by the rain. 

“this reminds me of the time when you first found me.” sunday spoke, his voice laced with tenderness. 

you smile and chuckle. “i’m surprised you remember.”

he let out a snort and shrugged his shoulders. “well, it was quite memorable. i feel a couple hundred feet from the air and suddenly a black cat and its owner come to save me.”

“i take it this is your way of repaying the favor?” you jest.

“i suppose it is.”

as you both wait for the rain to stop, you take your time to reflect on how far you’ve gotten in your journey. you’ve changed, but you’re still the same person that boarded the train you didn’t even know existed. the same carelessness that landed you a quick scolding session from a higher being. the love for invention and taking pride when others use it. you still liked the conductor’s coffee over tea but drank it whenever kafka offered you a cup. you were still you after everything.

and sunday was the same. he was still a bit awkward with the others, but he didn’t completely avoid everyone anymore. he started joining everyone when eating and he still has that sacrificial mindset of his that lands him a chop to the head. and he still knew how to read everyone like a book.

“do you regret joining destiny’s slave?”

“there’s really no escaping you, is there?”

you reach out your hand to feel the rain under your skin. shoulders tensing when the cold drops felt more like bullets penetrating your skin. you ponder over the question in your head. you wonder what expression you were making for sunday to scoot just a tiny bit closer to you. a distance that far surpasses what he deems professional.

“just a bit.”

“pardon?”

“i regret it. but just a small smidget of it.” you take a deep breath and pull your hand back. taking out the golden ticket from your breast pocket, you stare at it with eyes filled with longing. “i miss akivili; more than i should.”

“akivili,” sunday mutters under his breath. “your aeon?”

you chuckle. “more than that. they were my family.”

turning the small ticket over, you see your name engraved in it with their handwriting. “they were my aeon. i never realized how much i devoted to them until i lost it all.”

this was why elio warned you to keep your head straight whenever it came to sunday. just like him, you were too devoted to a god that’s already long gone. the thought of akivili being dead often sent you spiraling into a hysterical fit of sadness. elio feared you would go out of your way to look into sunday’s methods on how to revive a fallen aeon.

“i never realized.” sunday murmurs, his molten gold eyes stared at the ticket with furrowed brows. “do the other hunters know?”

“just elio and kafka.” you flip the gold bar like a coin in your hands to distract yourself. “they were there when i went haywire and nearly got myself killed.” 

you feel sunday’s gaze bore a hole into the side of your head. “why didn’t you go back?”

that’s a good question, why didn’t you go back? it was obvious from the conductor’s anonymously sent letters and not to mention the missing posters of you plastered on the planets you’ve traveled to. the poor thing wanted nothing more than for you to come back, but you chose to become a slave to destiny instead. all because of your guilt and shame.

“elio often told me, “you love akivili too much” and i suppose he’s right,” you chuckle as you tuck the ticket back in your breast pocket. “i love them to death. and they’d be the only one to bring me back to life. they were my everything. and i killed them.”

“what?”

you turn to sunday, a bitter smile on your lips. “are you surprised?”

“i–” sunday paused, trying to piece his words together. “i don’t believe it.”

you sigh. “well, to say that i killed them wouldn’t be accurate. but still, the fact that i got them killed still remains.”

“surely there must be more to that story.” 

a chuckle left your lips. “i wish that were the case. but if i were to lay down the entire story, it all comes down to one thing.”

“and that is?”

“recklessness.”

you smile at sunday’s efforts at comforting you, but you didn’t like the frazzled look in his eyes. both pairs of his wings tense in an uncomfortable way it has you wincing. if you hadn't grazed your hand over his feathers he would’ve let them be tense the entire way back and you didn’t want that. you didn’t want to compromise his progress.

“do you think your a bad person, mx. [name]?” he asked. eyes trained on the tip of his shoes.

your hands pause their ministrations. caught off guard by his questions, your eyes widened as you looked at sunday. you notice the uncertainty in his eyes, the tension that started to build up on his shoulders, as if he’s bracing for a blow. the question isn’t unfamiliar, you often ask yourself after that particular mission and those conversations with elio. 

before you can respond, sunday lifts his gaze and meets yours. the same pool of gentleness you saw on the roof on your last mission. “i don’t think you are. i’ve seen firsthand on how much you care –about me and the others–how hard you try to keep everyone safe and on the right track.”

“do i now?” you jest with a tilt of your head.

sunday continues, his voice steady and sure. “everyone has their moments of regret. actions they wish to undo. but,” he takes a closer step to you and takes hold of your hand. “those moments don’t define your entirety. you taught me that, didn’t you?”

you think back on when you first met sunday as he rubbed circles on your knuckles. how he didn’t even want to eat the food you offered him in a fit of paranoia. the way he’d pace around the base at night because his past haunted his dreams. and the time when you sat him down after a nasty fall when he tried to take flight, a conversation of vulnerability that had him grimacing and hissing like a stray cat. 

“i did say that didn’t i.” you chuckle and close your eyes. the feeling of his spread wing encircled you in a slight hug, you didn’t even realize that the rain had died down to a soft drizzle.

“you told me that the mistakes i’ve made in the past shouldn’t chain me; that i’m free to move on from them. redemption isn’t a one-time thing; it’s a journey.”

you feel a lump in your throat form, voice cracking slightly. “and what if those moments have piled up to one giant mess that can be deemed unforgivable?”

“but i forgive you.”

his words hung in the air like a lifeline for you to grab. you look at sunday, truly look at him –not just a quick peek or glance. even when his bangs stuck to his forehead in the rain, you felt such a pull to his eyes that reminded you of the morning sun; the dawn you always looked forward to after a tough night. his eyes reflected the faith you’ve tried to show him when he first joined.

“sunday…” you start, but he only shakes his head.

“i forgive you, [name] –everyone has. i know you’re trying, and that means more than the mistakes you’ve made in the past.”

slight tears prick at the corner of your eyes as you lean your head on his chest. “and who gave you the right to forgive me huh? i know you haven’t forgiven yourself for what you’ve done back in penacony.”

“then i’ll repent,” his arm pulled you closer to his chest, his hand supporting the back of your head. “even the devil would kiss your eyes and beg for forgiveness if it meant you’ll be kinder to yourself.”

you feel the warmth of his embrace; the steady beating of his heart that sounded like peace and home. for a brief moment, you rejoice in his comfort. “sunday,” you whisper, voice still shaky. “it isn’t that easy.”

he gently lifts your chin to meet his gaze. “it never is, but it’s necessary, isn’t it? you can’t keep chaining yourself to the past forever.”

you close your eyes, feeling scared to meet his resolve. “i don’t think i can forgive myself for what happened.”

“but akivili would,” he says softly. “they were not my aeon, and i doubt they ever will, but i wholly believe they would forgive you. they would see the good in you, just as i do.”

“you’re one strange bird, sunday.” you playfully say. opening your eyes to peer at him with a smile. “the express would have loved you, just as much as i have.”

“akivili would have forgiven you, too.”

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[screamingintothestarss]

blue milk & roses

summary: you’ve been down lately, and hunter does something special for you

pairing: hunter x reader

rating: general

warnings: light kissing, sickly sweet fluff

word count: 997

authors note: apologies for any grammatical and spelling errors, i proofread as intensely as my smooth brain could

~~~~

The first rays of sunlight warm your eyelids, barely opening in response. Sleep weighs on you like a thick blanket, and you have no intention of shaking it off. A gentle groan tickles your throat, and you roll over, instinctively grabbing hold of the man next to you. You suspected he was using your various scrubs and bodywashes in the fresher, but you didn't remember him being this soft. You call out his name, an unintelligible mumble, and get no response.

"Hunter?" you repeat clearly now. Your eyes remain shut, too exhausted to even bother opening them. You lightly slap his form. "C'mon babe what's wrong...you've never given me the silent treatment," you rasp. 

No response. 

Your eyes snap open at his silence, and you prop yourself up on an elbow, ready to discuss whatever the hell this is, but he isn't there. You attempt to wipe the fog covering your eyes and blink. 

You'd been talking to his pillow.

"Ugh," you drawl, and plop right back down into the bedsheets. You sling a lazy elbow over your eyes in an attempt to block out the sun's warm assault. You raise your leg, heavy as durasteel, and use your foot to push the curtains closer together. Rays retreat into the window, and your leg drops back onto the mattress. You wonder where Hunter's gone off to, but sleep overtakes you instead. 

--

His eyes rake over your sleeping form with complete adoration. A calloused palm cradles your face, and he swears he's never felt anything softer. Gentle moonlight spills through the window, painting your bodies. He thinks you look ethereal like this, your peaceful face and pouty lips bathed in blues. He resists the urge to kiss you.

He's more than aware of how difficult things have been for you lately--coming home late, a drag in your feet, your clothes haphazardly strewn around the room with little consideration, your typical demeanor replaced by a mellow somberness. He knows you're tired, so he picked up the half you couldn't carry and set it on his shoulders. He'd walk a thousand miles just to see you smile. He knows this storm will pass, but he wants to cherish this peace you have right now.

Your lips part slightly as you fall deeper into sleep. Hunter cautiously takes your hips and slots you against him. He begins to cradle you, but you stir.

"Hunter?" a sigh breezes past your lips, barely audible. 

He shushes you lovingly and spoons you. You fall asleep instantly.

--

You leave the fresher, your step a little lighter than before. Last night was the best sleep you'd gotten in a while, despite the interruption. You get dressed and step out of your shared bedroom, and a pleasant smell fills your senses with warmth. You pad over to the kitchen, and your heart nearly overheats. 

The table is set perfectly for two, your chair already pulled out. A gorgeous arrangement of pink and white flowers takes the center, bright and lively. You don't miss how your favorite breakfast foods decorate your plate--steaming hot. A chilled glass of blue milk waits for you. 

"I'm sorry if I woke you," Hunter comes from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes never leave you--how could they? 

It's as if the air had been knocked from your lungs; you had no words to cough up. You stare at the arrangement, your lips parted and eyebrows all furrowed. Red bleeds onto your skin like watercolor on a page, and your vision goes misty.

He picks up on this immediately, setting the towel down and making his way to you. 

Calloused palms meet soft skin. "Hey, I didn't mean to-"

"I love you!" the words etched in your heart come crashing through your lips, and Hunter thinks he might combust.

His eyes soften and he holds you. You melt into him, like two pieces of a puzzle, you fit together perfectly. You tuck your chin into his shoulder and his cheek nestles in your hair. 

"I love you too," he says, resolute and affirming. "I knew you'd been having a hard time lately, and I...I just wanted to do something different for you."

You can't find the words, so you hold him tighter. 

"I got Echo and some other friends of mine to help out, which is why the house isn't currently in flames," he chuckles, and you laugh into his chest. "Thought about getting the rest of the boys but eh, they're no better than I am."

You straighten up and set your eyes upon his, and sparkling brown irises are peering back at you.

"It's perfect."

You place a chaste kiss on his lips before sitting down, and he tries to mentally extinguish the fire in his veins. He takes his seat across from you.

You stare at the flowers for a beat, a vibrant assortment of pinks and white with petals like butter. 

"They're beautiful, but they're spoiling the view," you tease.

"I'm inclined to agree," a husky timbre rattles around the space and into your ears, leaving you hot. He sets the vase on the kitchen counter and returns his attention to you, but you've already dug in. 

--

You lay in bed, the moon taking refuge by your window tonight. You trace the sharp planes of his face, stubble tickling your palm. His breathing is steady and gentle. A quiet sigh comes from him, and your heart nearly beats through your chest.

Your mind replays today's events: the brunch with him, a movie, general canoodling, and plenty of stolen kisses. He's like a tree, you think--solid and stoic and sturdy, yet giving life to everything around him. 

His visage begins to blur into hues of blue and black as your eyes slip closed. He's slung his arm around your middle at some point, and your legs are all tangled together. You sigh contentedly, heart and stomach full. 

You sleep better than you ever have. 

ending note: i have been diagnosed with hunter disease, and i hope they don’t find a cure anytime soon

[chronicbeans]

Reader seeing Alastor Frowning

This was just an idea I came up with after seeing the new teaser, where Alastor explains his smile. I thought "what'd he be like if someone caught him frowning?" Then my brain immediately went "NOT GOOD." So, little story!

TW: Threats of Violence/Death, Invasion of Personal Space

You walk through the hallway of the Hazbin Hotel. You have only been here for a few days, so you are still getting lost when trying to find your way around the place. The hallways all kind of blend into each other, at some point, and you've already forgotten where your room is. Much worse is the fact that you are a bit lost on where you are in the hotel. So, you begin wandering aimlessly, hoping to find someone that can help you.

It seems like, either nobody is at the hotel right now, or nobody comes to this part of the hotel... because you haven't found anybody, yet. You're honestly a bit frightened. That is, until, you see a door that is cracked open. Seeing some light coming through, you are so excited that you peek through to see if anybody is there. It's Alastor's room.

You see the front half, which looks like a hunter's cabin, and a tiny bit of the half in the back that has some... grass? Your eyes are immediately drawn to Alastor, though. He's sitting in front of his fireplace, staring at the ominous green flames, as it casts a sickly glow on his face. His expression is a bit empty as he stares at it, as if he's staring somewhere beyond the fire, or as if his mind is somewhere completely different than the present.

The most shocking thing, though, is that he's frowning. Alastor is frowning. It doesn't even look like he's just resting his face, either. He looks genuinely upset. It's quite a shock, truly, since you haven't seen him frown before. Granted, you've only been here a few days, but you've heard others saying that they've never seen him frown either. Others who have been at the hotel much longer than you...

You lean a bit closer, trying to get a better look, and see if you can figure out what has made him so upset... only to cringe as you hear the door creak a bit more open. Alastor immediately stands, closing a book in his lap as he does so, then looks over to you. The smile is back on his face, though much more strained then usual. You've been spotted and he doesn't look happy with your presence.

"You know that it's rude to spy on people, right, dear?"

You tense up as he steps towards you, his eyes seemingly beginning to glow. You've messed up... you've really, really messed up! Panicking, you begin to run down the hall. However... You still have no idea where you're going, and you can still hear Alastor's footsteps following behind you. When you look to see how close he is, though, you don't even see him.

You look back in front of you just in time to see that he's now in front of you. He instantly grabs you by the shoulders, holding you against the wall and covering your mouth with one hand. "Now now, dear! Calm down. We can talk this out like reasonable adults, yes? There's no need for all the running and panic, even if it is fun to chase you around."

Alastor then chuckles, before letting go of your mouth. You quickly begin talking, but keep your voice quiet. "Look...! I didn't know you'd get so upset-" "Hush. No need for the excuses. I just want a little deal to make sure you don't speak a word of you seeing me without my lovely smile on." "It's just a smile..." He then let's out a fake gasp. His grip on your shoulder tightens a little, causing you to grimace a bit. "My dear...! Just a smile? You're never fully dressed without a smile! Now, listen up. I'm giving you one offer."

His grin suddenly relaxes a little, seeming much more calm, like he's in control. He then boops your nose, speaking. "You don't say a single word about my sour expression that you just saw..." Then, he points to himself, his nails now digging into your shoulder. "And I don't shred you apart and use you in my next batch of delicious jambalaya! Deal, dear?" You nod slowly, your eyes going wide as they stare up at him. "Yeah... Deal. I won't tell anyone..." "Fantastic, dear!"

Alastor immediately lets you go, taking a step back. His eyes are still staring at you, almost like how a starving wolf would its prey... or, in this case, a starving deer... You rub your shoulder, shaken up by what has just happened. He laughs a bit as he grabs his microphone, which you hadn't even noticed he had with him in your frenzy, before chirping happily. "You're lucky that you're so new here, my dear, or else I wouldn't have been so lenient on you. I like those who have manners, but I am not so cruel as to punish you cruelly without giving you proper time to learn." He then taps your sore shoulder with his microphone, adding on "That shoulder there should be good enough, this time."

You swallow thickly, clearing your throat. "Yeah... um... thanks... I'm going to go to my room, now. By the way, have you seen any of the others?" His demeanor instantly shifts, again, as he wraps an arm around you. "Of course I know! Charlie has went to visit her dead beat father. Husker, Angel Dust, and my dear Niffty went on a little outing to try to convince a few more sinners to come to the Hazbin Hotel. Vaggie has been in her room all day, and the snake fellow went to buy some more parts for his inventions." You simply nod, before gently pushing him away and beginning to walk down the hallway.

"Dear, don't you need someone to show you to your room? You're lost, aren't you?" He then walks over to you as you pause in place. How did he know...? "I am... but, I'll find my way-" He grabs your wrist, dragging you along. "Nonsense! I'll show you the way! As a member of the staff here, it's only right I help the guests find their way about!"

Thus, your uncomfortable walk with Alastor begins. Whenever you look over to him, you find him staring at you, like he's trying to figure out what to do with you now that you've seen him frowning. Why the hell is he so upset about it? It's just a facial expression! It's completely normal to frown...

Once you make it to your room, you quickly scurry inside as if it were a lifeline. He stands in your doorway for a moment, his hand on the doorknob. Before closing the door, he gives you one last little warning. "I'll be keeping a closer eye on you from now on, dear. I have to make sure you hold up your end of our deal, after all."

[fungifanart]

A scar in the mind

Characters: Male reader, Yuu!reader, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier

CW: Discussion of injury/scars, spoilers for some of Book 6??? I guess???

Word Count: 1.5K

Notes: I know for a fact that I'm not the first and certainly won't be the last to write something like this, but here it is anyway.

-------------------------------------------------

Rook Hunt is known as many things: A skilled hunter? Quite. Vice housewarden of Pomefiore? A title he wears with pride. Lover and pursuer of all things beautiful? Most definitely.

And it is because Rook is all of these things that he finds himself flying at breakneck speed over the ocean towards where his housewarden is being held, albeit with two more companions than he had originally planned for.

Though, he's hardly complaining. Especially after the beautiful display of resolve the two men in question had shown after they'd run into him on his way out.

Rook is truly grateful to have been blessed with such wonderful companions.

And so, when one of said companions begins shivering due to not being dressed to withstand the cold, what else can Rook do except offer his spare Pomefiore uniform?

Upon landing and setting up camp for the night, Rook presents the Prefect with his spare uniform, "You may change behind the trees, so long as you don't stray too far from the camp, Trickster." He says while he and Epel turn towards the bonfire.

"Oh, no. It's fine. I'm used to changing in front of other people." Rook hears the Prefect say as the shuffling of fabric can be heard.

Surprised by that statement as he is, Rook still endeavors to give the other man SOME privacy. That is, until he glances over at Epel, who is looking in the Prefect’s direction with wide eyes.

Following Epel's gaze, Rook turns back around towards the Prefect only to be greeted by a horrifying visual cacophony of scars painted all along the once blank canvas of his back, shoulders and arms.

All along his right arm, Rook notes several puncture wound scars and then a full stab wound scar on his left shoulder. On his hip, Rook sees an unfortunately familiar sight in the form of a sickly green, blotchy scar created by a corrosive acid. Finally, on the center of his back, Rook sees large claw-shaped scars surrounded by dry, cracked skin.

"Trickster…" The man in question stops changing upon hearing Rook's nickname for him, "What has happened to you?" Rook says quietly and with no hint of his usual persona.

Rook hears the Prefect’s breath hitch for a moment before sighing, "Yeah…I had a feeling you guys would say something. Give me a minute." He says FAR too calmly for Rook's liking while he resumes changing into the spare uniform.

Once he's fully changed, the Prefect turns around and joins the other men around the fire.

The next few seconds of tense silence are broken by Epel, "So??? Are ya gonna explain???" He asks urgently.

"Personally, I don't think there's much TO explain. You guys aren't stupid. There's no way you haven’t heard the rumors by now." The Prefect says.

Rook has no rebuttal. He knows exactly what the other man means. No matter how hard they try, the news of an overblot will always make its way to the rest of the student body and, in the same breath, the Prefect’s name will always come up.

"So, those scars are from…?" Rook trails off, not wanting to say it.

"Yep. Each scar you saw is traceable back to one of the five overblot incidents I was involved in." The Prefect says matter-of-factly while pulling up his right sleeve, "These ones happened because one of Riddle’s rose vines got a hold of me while I was trying to protect Trey. I could barely write with this arm for a while after that."

Rook and Epel sit there in stunned silence as the Prefect continues.

"The one you saw on my back happened because I threw myself between Ruggie and Leona during his overblot. Leona was charging right for him and he was already in a bad way, so I figured I could take a hit or two. Oh, and don't bother with the dry skin. I've tried everything at this point, so I think it's just like that for good now." The man continues nonchalantly.

Rook begins to notice a pattern with these stories as the Prefect pulls down the fabric on his left shoulder.

"This one came from the trident Azul's phantom had. I was trying to push Leona out of the way of it and ended up getting skewered myself. Heh, he got SO mad at me afterwards! Still not sure why, though." He explains with a small laugh.

But neither Rook nor Epel laugh with him. Why is he making jokes about this?

"And, of course, I don't think I need to explain how I got the one on my hip, seeing as how you guys were there when it happened." He says while motioning to the two other men.

Unfortunately, the Prefect truly doesn't need to explain. Rook still remembers the sight of him shoving Epel out of the way and taking part of a blast of Vil's poison.

Silence falls over the area as the Prefect is seemingly done explaining despite not addressing the question that is no doubt on both of his companion's minds.

"Wait, isn't that only four?" Epel asks, ever the straightforward one.

"Well, it's not like I got out of Jamil’s overblot unscathed, but I wouldn't really call it a 'scar.'" The Prefect responds while taking off one of his gloves, "During the fight, I took a magic blast for Kalim, got flung back hard against a pillar and hit my spine in a way that messed up the nerves in my hands, so now I've lost some feeling in them." He says while looking at his hand melancholically, "Oh, don't tell either of them I said that, by the way. I wouldn't want them to feel guilty."

Rook's mouth is agape as his mind tries and fails to rationalize the sheer disregard for oneself the Prefect is displaying.

"Trickster, why would you do all of this?" Rook finally says in genuine concern, earning a confused look from the other man.

"What do you mean? Everyone's always saying how I'm useless and a liability because I can't use magic, so I thought this was the only way I could make myself useful." He says while pulling his knees towards his chest, "Though, sometimes I can still feel the pain, when I think about what happened."

Then it clicks in Rook's mind. This is his fault. And not just his, it's Epel's as well. No, not even just those present. Everyone at NRC did this to him. All of them.

While he may not have been personally acquainted with the Prefect until recently, Rook had heard the whispers about him that echoed through the halls since the day he was brought to this world and did nothing to stop them.

Whispers that tell of a "fittingly useless prefect for that rundown dump."

Whispers that reduce him down to his lack of magic and ignore his qualities as a person.

Whispers that would sometimes even come from the mouths of people whom he would consider friends.

Whispers that the Prefect has no doubt heard constantly, warping his perception of himself into someone expendable. Someone whose problems must always be put on the back burner in the face of someone else's.

Looking at Epel, Rook knows he's had the same realization by his shell-shocked expression and before the two men know it, they've moved to sit on both sides of the Prefect, who doesn't seem to mind.

"Well, fer what it's worth, ya should know that yer always welcome in Harveston." Epel says in an attempt at comfort, "Meemaw always mentions ya at least once in her letters to me, askin' if you've been eatin' well, amongst other things, so I think comin' with me to go see her would make her happy!"

"Really…?" The Prefect asks, slightly surprised.

"But of course!" Rook jumps in, "You should also know that my siblings have been asking about you as well!"

"H-huh? Why??" The man asks, thoroughly confused as Rook takes his hand.

"Because, whenever we talk, I always tell them how truly magnifique you are, Trickster." Rook says softly, "How caring and truly irreplaceable you are."

The Prefect blinks for a few seconds, caught off-guard by Rook's sincerity.

“And someone as irreplaceable as you shouldn't be putting himself in harm's way so often.” Rook continues, “After all, I'm sure your family couldn't bear to see you return to them in a coffin.”

The Prefect’s eyes go wide in realization and then begin to glisten with tears as he looks at his free hand which begins to tremble before fully burying his face in his knees and crying.

“mommy…daddy…” He whispers between sobs.

Rook releases the other man's hand and instead wraps his arm around him in comfort as Epel leans against his other side, letting him safely release his pent up emotions.

Rook may not be able to change the past or silence the hateful whispers in the halls, but, starting with this moment right here, he might just be able to ease the pain of the Prefect’s scars, both mental and physical, until one day, they disappear altogether.

[prettyboykatsuki]

territorial woes | k. leona

✮ tags ; fem!reader (referred to as leonas woman very briefly) fluff, territorial / needy leona , he is sickly in love in this sorry they're so domestic, one singular sex joke, this is a college au so everyone is over 18 for sake of my sanity, sfw but this blog is 18+ so minors don't follow please and ty

✮ wc ; 2k (? ? ?)

✮ a /n ; im so embarassed that this is leaving my fingertips actually. i do have to clarify like... i dont rlly think leona gets jealous easily but he can be kind of childish bc he's spoiled if that makes sense lmao. i was so Plauged by this i couldnt sleep its like 4am. i took my melatonin at midnight im so sick. blame @/petrichorium i am not responsible.

✮ synopsis ; leona kingscholar is often annoyed, but not usually over something like this.

He shouldn't have come to class.

The clock on the wall is agitating. Tick, tick, tick. On repeat over and over, plainly the same and piercing. Leona is sensitive to his surroundings, and particularly to noise.

He hates loud noises and sharp cries and he hates the sound of the damn clock in Trein's classroom. He's never been a fan of the classroom setting, general lack of motivation aside. It goes against his very nature to listen to boring lectures and sit through assignments he's already done hundreds of times.

All of his education from being young royalty paid off but ultimately amounts to nothing, because if he wants to graduate he still has to do this all over again.

He's a hunter, so he's not opposed to sitting and lying in wait if there's a promise of reward at the end. If all this sitting around with a twitching ear and bored sigh would amount to anything he'd be a little less annoyed with attending.

And there was one, originally. A thing, that Leona had wanted (which he can only admit to himself begrudgingly) that was worth hauling his ass out of the peaceful botanical garden and into class today. That very thing which is currently giggling their heart out to one of those idiot freshman from the Heartslyabul dorm.

Tick, tick, tick. Leona snaps his jaw close and tears his eyes from the sight, nose scrunched in frustration with a knuckle pushed against his temple.

He wants to go back to his dorm. But he can't. He won't until he gets what he even came for.

The presence of another person alerts his senses, but he relaxes upon realizing it's Ruggie, sitting on the edge of his desk with that usual smug air about him. Leon passes him a glance but doesn't say a word.

"Somethin' troublin' you, my liege? Shyehehe."

Leona all but growls.

"Shut your trap or I'll hang you up by your tail."

"Ouch. That bothered by it, huh?"

"I'm not bothered by squat."

Ruggie laughs hard at that and Leona considers throwing him through a wall. Ruggie is also looking ahead where you at, staring a little more openly than Leona is. He whistles under his breath. He can't remember the names of the two brats, but they're always together. One of them with orange hair and the other with the short blue.

"They're pretty close with those two, yanno. Heard they were having sleep-overs and all durin' their first year.''

Leona narrows his eyes. The clock ticks on. Ruggie grins and Leona knows he should just up and leave. It's stupid to be hanging around here. It's lame that he's even looking. He should just go up there and—

"They're best friends, basically. Been like that since before you two had a thing going too. Way before that, I think."

Leona knows well enough what Ruggie is doing. What Hyena's are good at, goading his annoyance to push him to act. He's looking for a show, and Leona is nearly tempted to give him one. Nearly.

You're not the fierce type like the women back home. You probably wouldn't think twice about it, just bat your little lashes and wave your friends goodbye like the herbivore you are if he decided to drag you away. You'd pester him, follow him around while he acted moody and cold for a while before frowning.

You'd get mad at first, before huffing and saying sorry for something you didn't even do. Mumbling and poking around until Leona eventually drags you in his bed to nap instead of being outright about any of it. If his sister-in-law knew he was acting like such a kid to his woman, he'd never hear the end of it. It's that voice in his head that keeps him stuck in his chair, seething.

"Not like you to be so docile, King." Ruggie says. Leona shoots him a mean enough glare that he backs away in fear.

It's not like he's being docile. Not really. There's more to it than that.

Thing is, Leona is used to being chased. Regardless of his inferiority in birthright, he's still royalty. Royalty means plenty of people itching to get in his good graces to get a taste of the highlife. Leona is used to cheap tactics of seduction and luxury in order to earn his favor - he can smell it from away. He's always half expecting to uncover secret intentions.

It never happens. You are all by all measures, frustratingly sincere. Leona doesn't really know how to respond to it. You don't pay mind to his royalty or his ability aside from a normal amount of awe. You're an herbivore firstly, and a stranger to this world after that. Whatever traits in Leona you've latched onto, he can't wrap his head around nor does he understand.

It's the first time in his life that he's gotten into a romantic entanglement like this. Where everything is all lovey-dovey and things are so important. He's always been respectful to his women but he's never been seriously in love in his life. It's different from just being decent. He cares what you think to an extent that's unfamiliar. It's not like he'd ever fix his mouth to say all that, but it really matters that he does things the right way.

Leona doesn't usually act in self-interest, to begin with. Cocky as he may be - he's still king and kings act in the interest of his people. Regardless of what it looks like, you are part of his people. His pride, in more simple terms.

It's not being docile as much as it's an effort to show some respect for you.

Leona isn't usually jealous about petty, trivial shit. It doesn't matter to him what you do or who you do it with in your own time. He likes that you're independent, too.

He is however, a territorial apex predator and a prince. For better or for worse whenever he looks at you, all he can see is to prey animals encroaching on his territory.

That's the part of him that's raring to go. Teeth clenched and agitated, brows all drawn together in frustration. Leona wants to go back to his dorm, but he wont without what he came for. It's putting him in a bad mood.

But ultimately, he doesn't move from his spot. Ruggie leaves eventually when his mood has soured completely. His head is on the desk and he's got his eyes closed, but his ears twitched at the sound of your chair dragging on the floor.

"Can you guys walk Grimm back to the door? I'm gonna go with Leona. Thanks! See you later,"

And just like that, the classroom clears of the last nuisances occupying it. Leaving only you and Leona and that ticking clock together.

He hears you walk up to him before he sees it. Your voice is annoyingly pleasant to listen to.

"Leona? You sleeping already?"

He's starting to understand why his older brother folded at every single word that came out of his sister-in-laws mouth. He lifts his head just barely to look at you and you're looking at him all wide-eyed. He wants to tick you off a little, but can't conjure up any ideas.

"You done with those little yippin' herbivores you call friends? Can we leave now?"

You frown.

"You're in a bad mood. And don't be mean to them, they are actually my friends, you know?"

He scoffs and your frown deepens.

"Leonaaa," You drag out the syllables of his name as you stand beside him "What's wrong with you?"

He hears you pull a chair up. When he finally sits up, you're sitting directly in front of him on a chair turned backwards. There's hardly any room between you. Your face is twisted up with worry.

Leona reaches to pinch your nose. You pull away making his lips twitch upward.

"I shouldn't've came to class." He complains. You rub your nose but don't say anything back, considering him.

"I didn't think it was that bad today though. I guess it might always be for you though since you know like, everything, but I don't—"

Before you can keep going, he leans forward to press his lips to yours. It shuts you up effectively. Your lips are soft. They're sweet and a little sticky - mouth warm and welcoming.

When he pulls away, you blink at him.

"What were you sayin'." He asks.

You look a little taken aback.

"I don't know. Oh, uhm. I liked the lesson. It's fun to learn stuff about this world, I guess." You stumble over your words like you're shy. It's ironic to him, but charming all the same.

He grins.

"What? You nervous after a little kiss?" He teases.

You flush.

"You're not usually that forward, dummy. Which brings me to my question again, what's up? You're sulking."

"What the hell? I'm not sulkin'"

"Yes you are. Your doing the little nose scrunch thing too. Did something happen?"

He pushes the comment about his nose scrunch away entirely because he's sure thinking about too long is gonna get on his nerves. He glares at you for a while, debating on what he should say. Truth is, he is a little pissed. But he isn't going to tell you that your little chat with friends is making him territorial. That would be ridiculous.

There's a brief moment of silence before you pause. You tilt your head, eyes shining with curiosity.

"...Were you lonely?" You suggest.

His face drops.

"You're not the jealous type usually, but you're like a big overgrown kitty. So, you missed me right? That's why you're moping?"

The tone of your voice makes him want to pinch you again.

"Watch your mouth, herbivore." He grits, agitation rolling back into his tone like a wave. And you laugh, the nerve of you. Giggle a little as you lean in closer.

"You didn't say no."

"Shut up." He says, weakly.

"Leona," You say his name again, a little sweeter. Purposefully full of affection and he hates everything about how mushy it's making him feel. You reach your hand up to his head, petting behind his ears in the place you know he likes "I'm sorryyy,"

"Do you go 'nd tuck your tail between your legs like this for everyone? Where's your self-respect, huh?" He means to say with a lot more characteristic sarcasm.

But it all comes out gross and sweet sounding instead.

"Mm, no? It's just that my boyfriend is pretty shit at being honest about his feelings so if I don't dote on him he'll wither away like a houseplant and—"

He covers your mouth with his hand and glares at you, faux annoyed. And you're giggling against his palms, all bely laughs. It's all a little nauseating for him. He pulls away by cupping your jaw instead, squishing your face together.

"When'd you get so damn mouthy?" He grumbles.

"Since forever ago." You say through squished lips. He huffs, leaning forward to kiss you a second time. You're all soft everywhere. Squishy and mellow. Leona kisses you three times in the process, each one a little more impatient than the last before releasing you.

He doesn't let go, hand going to cup the back your neck instead. He cradles your head close, sighing against your mouth.

"Annoying," He says. You smile at him and he has to look away to deal with the intensity of it.

"You love me." You say with a smile. If only you knew the half of it.

He doesn't say that of course. Just scoffs as he stands to his feet, dragging you with him. He curls an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. The warmth of your body makes him purr.

"In your dreams. You owe me for cuttin' into my naptime."

"What can I do for you my liege?" You say sarcastically, grabbing his hand openly. He squeezes it "You wanna take a nap with me?"

"Can't promise I'll get you in my bed and not fuck you about it." He says with a lazy chuckle. You nudge his side.

"You're so crass."

"You love me," He mocks. You huff.

"Unfortunately, I do. Could use some rest though," You yawn, and blinking blearily "So nap time it is. 'kay?"

He kisses the side of your head.

"Sounds good t'me."

[layla4567]

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN Pt3

Mihawk x Thief!Fem!reader

Pt2

Summary: The third time is the charm they say. It's time to end this once and for all. Mihawk will find you again and this time it will be forever, will he let you go or will he keep you just for himself?

Warnings: teasing, kissing, kidnapping, shanks apricion, worries, canon divergence, y/n use, swearing/bad words, injuries, beta read, ooc maybe(?, mention of sword fights, mention of blood, lil make out

Wc: 6,524 (phew)

A/N: I listened to a lot of Rosalia songs before writing this, I have no idea why lmao

gif divider: @k1ssyoursister

A good day of profits, yes indeed. Your life continued as always, the small changes made before (thanks to the inspiration and advice of a warlord) have improved your existence. You had gained more muscle mass and resistance, now people called you "The light of the east blue" and not "The shadow" and that fascinated you. You never thought that so much satisfaction would come from helping the poor survive (and making the government angry, of course)

It was so fun to see the humiliated faces of the men who chased you after being defeated by a woman. Your wanted posters were still scattered all over the island, the reward on your head was very large but you didn't give it any importance, they would never catch you alive, you had learned a lot and evolved. Besides, it was flattering to see your face everywhere, they had even brought out the good side of your face.

You walked happily around the island strutting and swinging your hips like a cat. You already expected all eyes on you and you appreciated the audience. The people around you looked at you satisfied, happy, proud. You were his salvation. You stopped in front of a rewards sign. Your face was shown in all its glory, you put your hands on your hips and smiled widely.

"Even my nose is correct"

You walked safely home, waving your hair while you felt all the eyes behind your back. When you entered your humble abode, you took off your heavy sword and took off your hat. As you hung it on the coat rack, you quietly resisted when you saw Mihawk's wide-brimmed hat. You still hadn't returned it to him. You were planning to keep it for a while longer, so he would have to. look for you instead of you looking for him. The game of cat and mouse was fun for you and you had taken a liking to it.

You sighed tiredly and were about to lie down comfortably on the couch when a knock came on your door. Grumbling you jumped up and went to open the door. Oh surprise! Some uniformed men with unfriendly faces had stopped in front of the entrance. They were taller than you and looked angry. Those of the government.

"Excuse me miss, are you y/n y/l?"-One of them cleared his throat

You tried to hide your surprise by crossing one leg in front of the other and resting one arm on the door frame, how quickly they had discovered your name. Of course you didn't tell them the truth.

"Sorry, I don't know who you're talking about, you must have the wrong person"

You were about to close the door when one of them stopped it by placing his palm on the wood.

"I don't think so. Maybe we should try one more time, shall we? Are you the one they call The Light of East Blue formerly nicknamed The Shadow?"

Shit. They knew, they weren't genuinely asking, they had found you, they knew exactly who you were and they just wanted you to confirm it. You could see a flash of evil amusement pass through their eyes and it infuriated you, they were treating you like a poor devil. But you weren't stupid

"Gentlemen, with all due respect, I think it's not the right time to chat now, why don't you come later?"

Again you made an attempt to close the door but they kicked it with so much force that you almost lost your balance and fell. Staggering, you backed away in a state of alert. Now were they coming to break into your own house? That never. The two men approached slowly with sickly smiles, believing themselves to be the hunters and you the prey, poor idiots, they must have understood for a long time that it was the other way around. Your eyes scanned your entire room and when they found your sword you looked back at them and cautiously approached your weapon. With a quick and accurate movement you grabbed your trusty sword and threatened them, brandishing it in front of them, you moved your sword from side to side to make them move away. They angrily retreated and you took the opportunity to push them and run between the two of them.

You ran at full speed trying to lose sight of them. At a safe distance you turned your head and saw that other men had joined the chase. The people around were booing the government and cheering you. This undoubtedly gave you the strength to continue running to the beach. Your feet flew in the sand although the men behind you still did not give up. Suddenly you saw something from afar that made your blood run cold, or rather someone's. The famous warlord stood with his Yoru sword, appearing to be talking to someone through an intercom in his ear. With satisfaction you noticed that his dark, slightly curly hair was waving in the wind, you celebrated that the hat you stole from him was the only one he had because his new appearance didn't look bad on him at all.

Dracule had turned as cannons continued to fire and sent the sand flying behind him. As he did so, he saw you running and raised an eyebrow curiously when he noticed that some men were chasing you.

"Well, well. What trouble have you gotten yourself into now?"-he thought quietly

Mihawk tightened his grip on his sword and raised it to his shoulder. You hadn't stopped running but you were getting closer to him. The closer you got, the stronger the explosions became and you had to crouch down slightly, covering your head so they wouldn't shoot you. You arrived agitatedly next to him and looked at him from below, when he had his hat on you were intimidated by looking at him that way since it made him look taller than he is, but now you simply licked your lower lip and gave him a mocking, shit-eating smile. He stooped slightly to see you better and tilted his head.

"What happened now?"-he said tired

You feigned innocence "What? I was just in my abode calmly resting when these ruffians appeared in front of my entrance"-You pointed with a pout at the men who were approaching.

The warlord looked up at them and growled softly

"I see… good luck with that"

He turned to leave with more important matters to do when you, offended and indignant, grabbed his arm and roughly forced him to look at you again. You were no longer afraid of him getting angry, you knew that physical contact was not his thing. Dracule focused his gaze on you again and his eyes twinkled at you. You didn't remove your hand from his arm yet. It had been a long time since your last meeting, you still remember the tickle of his jaw against your skin, his whispering voice in your ear. For weeks you tried to suppress that annoying tickling that appeared in your belly when you thought about him, at that moment or when you saw him.

"You're not going anywhere, Warlord, or have you already forgotten that you rebelled against them too? I don't think they'll be very happy to let you go"

Mihawk growled lowly, looking at the government men and then looking at you. You were right. They would never leave him alone again, and all to help you. But could he complain? No, deep down Dracule was entertained, finally something that took him out of his boring life.

"Fine, I'll help you one more time, little bird. But you owe me one" -he said, getting into an attack position by your side

You smiled satisfied, having gotten what you wanted, you always have. Now the men were getting closer and closer and when he was only two meters away from you, you and Dracule grabbed your weapons tightly and began to fight. You had to admit that Mihawk was an excellent swordsman and he didn't wear the name warlord in vain. Back to back he quickly finished off the men who were coming at him, his height protected you and he made sure that no one touched you, despite knowing how to defend yourself alone. When one of them came dangerously close to you, Mihawk with a wide movement of his arm passed his great sword over you while you crouched down. Yoru's blade sliced ​​through the man's torso. Exhausted they looked around, the panorama was devastating. Fallen bodies everywhere, it seemed like the end of an arduous civil war.

You put your hands on your hips and closed your eyes, smiling contentedly. Dracule watched you carefully, memorizing your features as if he wanted to remember them later. It's been a long time since he saw you. Suddenly his deep voice broke the silence.

"I noticed you haven't brought my hat. Do you plan on keeping it longer?"-he said sarcastically

You looked at him mockingly. "Maybe, is there a problem with that? So I can continue admiring your beautiful curls in the wind"-you said with a shrug

You started to walk away from the beach towards the grass and Dracule rolled his eyes. Following you closely as if it were your shadow. He wasn't going to leave you so quickly now that he found you again.

"Are you some kind of vulture or why are you following me so closely?"

When you passed by a palm tree Mihawk took a step forward and stood next to you, unsheathing his sword and placing it in front of you with his arm extended to the right, stopping you. You looked at him irritated.

"I really would like my hat back, my dear"

"I'm sorry, that's not going to be possible, I realized that I like the perfume it has" - you said, smiling mischievously, Mihawk's smell was like that of grapes with a mixture of sandalwood.

You turned in front of the palm tree to go in the opposite direction when Mihawk crashed his yoru again against the trunk, preventing you from passing. You slammed the heel of your boot on the ground in anger and drew your sword.

"Alright if you want it that way"

Dracule, unlike you, seemed entertained by this new game, he realized that provoking you in that way had something…delicious. Now you two were facing each other with the palm tree in between the two of you. You raised your sword trying to cut him in the face when he was faster and gave you a light spank with the non-sharp part of his sword. The surprise was more than the pain and you opened your mouth and eyes as wide as you could while you brought your hands to your sore butt. You almost noticed Dracule's facial muscles trembling slightly trying to suppress a smile perhaps. Outraged, you ran towards another palm tree but the warlord did the same thing again, only this time the blow was a little stronger. You squealed, closing your eyes as you caressed your buttocks, surely now you would have a nice red mark.

"You are a rude pervert!"

"And you are stubborn"-he said calmly

You lunged at him and finally your sword collided with his. You fought with all your fury and great efforts while he simply moved his wrist and dodged the edge of your sword, it was like child's play for him. His arrogant attitude made your blood boil even more. At one point you brought your wrist forward and he grabbed it, put his head under it and spun you around until you crashed into his chest. You tried to get away but the arm Mihawk was holding you was against your back, only your other free hand was left which was now resting on Dracule's naked torso. He was breathing noisily through his nose from the effort. Your gaze lingered on his pecs for a second, trying to process what was happening. Again those annoying tickles like fluttering butterflies appeared in your belly. You looked up and noticed that Mihawk was looking at you. In fact, he hadn't stopped looking at you, so he also noticed how you were looking at his bare chest.

"You've come this far darling, now I'll ask you one more time. Give me the hat back now, please"

His deep voice resonated in his ribcage, it was funny how despite him now being under control his manners were not demanding and he asked for things please like a gentleman. His honey eyes piercing yours, his deep and manly voice, his soft and elegant gestures, his way of asking for things being calm and not rude. Damn. You could have melted right there if it weren't for him holding you tightly against his warm skin. You hated him and that stupid feeling that you tried to ignore but now you knew it was love. You tried to maintain your composure

"Fine was just playing, you bitter old man"

He loosened his grip and you finally separated from him like a hot breaststroke. You headed towards your house with him behind you. The entire way you avoided eye contact. When you arrived he stood at the entrance watching everything, afraid to interrupt your home. To tell the truth, its dark appearance made a strange contrast to your house with light walls and a warm appearance. You grabbed his hat from the rack and walked towards him. You caressed the fabric and the feather lovingly one last time and handed it to him. Dracule placed it on his head solemnly, stroking the wide black brim. When he looked up his eyes this time saw you softer.

"Anyone would think you fell in love with my hat"-he said raising an eyebrow

and not only with the hat

You rolled your eyes, smiling in amusement, and gently pushed him away.

"Ok you have what you wanted now go away and don't bother"

Dracule turned to leave and as he did so his black cape fluttered like a flag in the wind, so elegant. You slammed the door and sighing, you slid your back along the wood until you fell into a sitting position. What had all that been about? Did he realize the dangerous game he was playing? You put your hands to your hair, combing it back and trying to process what you experienced a few seconds ago. You shook your head, trying in vain to suppress all those feelings you had for the god of war that were increasing more and more like a giant snowflake rolling downhill, an avalanche of emotions and thoughts that you couldn't control. His naked torso was still stuck in your eyes as if you were seeing it right now. What would the rest of his body look like without clothes?

"Ok enough, I better visit my mother to distract myself"

You stood up and went to your room to get a large backpack where you would put everything you needed. Since you had become a thief and stole for the poor, your mother now lived much better. Many would say that it is selfish because you are helping someone in your family and not a stranger, but only God knows the bad times that both of them went through years ago. Although now she could buy her own things, you always brought her something as a gift, whether it was food or something else. You decided to wrap a couple of cookies and put them in your backpack. You started walking towards his house, people as you passed greeted you as if you were a rock star, you simply smiled and nodded back at them. Your mother's house was quite far away but you were used to walking so much so when you arrived you began to contemplate its facade. Painted white with two stories, the house was definitely beautiful. Your mother had been in charge of planting many flowers to give color.

"Mom! I'm here!!"-You screamed putting your hands around your mouth.

Your mother opened the door and ran towards you to hug you. The two merged into a warm embrace as if they were one.

"Honey, it's good to see you! I was missing your visits."-she said with a slight loving reproach.

"I know, I know. But my job is not easy…"

"Don't worry, come in and let's talk better inside"

Inside the big house was filled with plants too, hanging pots, tiny cacti, pothos and ferns, etc. And you loved it like that, it gave more life and purity to the home. You both sat on a soft sofa, you handed her the cookies and she thanked you tenderly. They spent the hours chatting like the old days when the two of you were alone at home and she taught you how to cook, knit, or paint. It's like all these years had never passed, everything was better with her and she made you feel safe and happy.

You looked at the wall clock "Oh, I'm sorry but I have to go now."

Your mother tilted her head a little sadly but then she got up and grabbing you by the cheeks gave you a loud kiss on the head.

"It's a shame sweetheart but I understand. Just come visit me more often when you can, okay? Don't forget it"

You nodded vigorously and she walked you out. Before you left she grabbed your wrist and held you for a moment longer.

"Please honey, take good care of yourself and don't put yourself in unnecessary danger, I want you to be safe. And remember that no matter what you do, I love you and I'm proud of you."

You felt your eyes begin to water, everything you did was for your mother and for her to tell you that was the best gift of life. You hated that they saw you cry so you looked away and wiped your tears with the back of your hand.

"Thanks mom, I love you too"

You walked away from the house and walking at a brisk pace you went to your house. When you arrived you felt fuller and happier, your mother always had that effect on you. You took off your boots and changed your clothes into something more comfortable. You chose a wide beige shirt and short brown pants. You realized that you were a little tired so you stretched like a cat and let yourself fall exhausted into the big chair to take a nap. And without realizing it you dreamed of Mihawk

Two hours later you woke up suddenly and you didn't know why. As in your dreams, you heard some dull, muffled and distant knocks. The knocks were insistent and were starting to tire you out, someone was knocking on the door. Annoyed because someone interrupted your nap, you got up and opened the door abruptly.

"WHAT?!"

A smiling face with brown eyes appeared before you, with fiery red locks falling on his forehead. He was wearing a navy blue shirt and you noticed that he was missing an arm. He had a slight smell of alcohol and his gaze ran over you from top to bottom until he stopped for a few seconds on your shirt that had opened and revealed your bra a little. You rolled your eyes and snorted which caught his attention and he quickly looked back into your eyes.

"You have 6 seconds to tell me who you are and what you are doing in my house"-you said bluntly

He cleared his throat "Hello doll, sorry for bothering you, my name is Shanks." He bowed slightly, winking.

Brilliant. another sycophant, you thought.

"I came to ask you something… Are you the new Robin Hood walking around these parts?"

You laughed sarcastically, Robin Hood… yeah, sure.

"I don't know what they told you or how you found me, but just so you know, they call me "The Light of East Blue," not Robin Hood"

"Sure babe, whatever you say"

Shanks knew very well how he had found you, to tell the truth it was not difficult to keep track of you. You were strutting around like a peacock. Also, by chance he had seen you talking to Mihawk near your house once and he was very curious about you, especially to know what your relationship with Dracule is. Your patience was running out and you started drumming your fingers on the door frame.

"Ok, ok I'll be brief. I like your style, I think you do noble deeds and you could be a great collaboration for my crew."

Shanks had to be joking. You worked alone and there was no chance you would join his crew or any other. Besides, you had the feeling that he hadn't come just for that reason, because of the way he smiled at you and how he seemed to eat you with his eyes. No, you were definitely better off alone.

"Ha! Shanks, right? Look, I work alone, okay? I don't need a crew or a pirate ship." You slowly got closer to him to intimidate him. "And believe me, I already know how men get in the presence of a girl and I don't need of that daily dose of idiocy in my life"

Your face was now closer to his. Shanks, far from being offended or angry, widened his smile, looking at you playfully.

"More girls should have your courage and toughness, I like it. Are you sure you don't want to come with us? We wouldn't need more feminine intuition."

You sighed rolling your eyes “NO!”

You walked into your house and slammed the door in his face. The redhead stood there for a few more seconds and then started laughing fun, turning around.

"We'll see each other again, then. I'm sure," he said quietly.

DAYS AFTER

You were walking calmly on the island, cooling off with the fresh breeze and smiling enthusiastically as usual. You walked through the stores looking at the clothes and jewelry in the windows, rubies, emeralds, silks and linen. You were about to enter a store when a thin girl with purple hair and a backpack stopped you a little abruptly. You turned around startled and frowning. The girl looked at you and seemed worried.

"Sorry to interrupt you but you're Y/N right?"

You looked at her somewhat surprised, almost no one knew your real name. You nodded confused.

The girl let out a sigh of relief "Oh thank God I found you, your mother asked me to call you urgently"

Your intrigue grew even more, how was it possible that she knew your mother? And what had happened to her? The girl noticed your confusion and hurried to say

"I'm Suni, her maid, she hired me a month ago. But now she's seriously ill and I don't know what she has, you have to help her soon!"

A whirlwind of emotions crossed your entire being and confusion gave way to panic. How had your mother gotten sick if a few days ago she was fine when you went to visit her? Why did he never mention Suni, had he forgotten? You couldn't waste time with questions so you ran with her to your mom's house. Your heart was beating fast and you feared the worst. When they both arrived you saw the house a few meters away and felt a little relief. When suddenly a headache invaded you and your vision blurred until it became black and you fell flat to the ground. Suni had hit you from behind with a bottle that he had taken out of his backpack. He smiled satisfied as he looked at you unconscious on the floor.

"You already have her?"-a voice behind her asked

A member of the government approached at a sure and fast pace, anxious.

"Yes, it was easier than it seems. It turns out that our little thief has a sensitive heart. Now pay me what you owe me"

The man paid without even looking at her, he only had eyes for you. They had finally caught you and they wouldn't let you escape. The man called his comrades and between six men they lifted you into the air and put you on a boat without being seen. Luckily, almost no one lived in that part of the island.

...

You woke up on a cold, wet floor and with a severe headache that almost made you nauseous. You slowly opened your eyes and had to get used to the darkness, you weren't sure where you were or what had happened to you, you only remembered being about to enter your mother's house and then that unbearable pain that left you faint. Suni… sure, Suni. That bitch set you up, but why?

Very slowly you sat up and realized that your hands were tied tightly with a rope, luckily they had not gagged you but you assumed it was because you were in a place where no one could hear you. Suddenly you heard sounds of splashing water and turned your head to see. In a round window you could see the sea, you were on a damn boat

You sat up with difficulty to see outside. The salty breeze hit you squarely and gave you the strength to wake up and get into action. You were about to come up with a plan when you heard footsteps approaching. A governor approached your cage and placed a hand on the bars to open the cell. You froze in place waiting for the moment to attack.

When the man entered you approached quickly but he stopped you by taking a gun out of his pocket.

"Don't even try, dear" He said while pointing at you

You stepped back in resignation as he smirked. You hated it

"Why the fuck did you lock me in here?"-you spat out the words like they were poison

"Simple, you were causing us a lot of problems especially when you started allying with Mihawk. But that's over"-he said playing with the gun

You approached again with a bitter smile. "You think you're very virile, don't you? Locking up a woman, believing that this way you'll gain more power, what did they offer you in exchange for my head? Money, a higher position? They wouldn't give you that even if I You're just another pawn in this chain, an idiot who delights in the inferiority of others, I feel sorry for you. You're just a miserable son of a-!"

A loud crack was heard throughout the cell and reverberated. The son of a bitch had slapped you. You fell to the ground with a pitiful moan, feeling like your lip had been split. You licked it and felt that iron taste.

"I'm not the one who's tied up, do yourself a favor and shut your fucking mouth."

The man spit on the ground and left to lock you up again. You felt alone and tears fell towards your cheeks without being able to stop them. You thought about many things but above all about Mihawk, you wanted him to come rescue you. You no longer cared about all those stupid feelings you had for him, because they weren't stupid. They made you feel good, loved and safe. You promised yourself that if you came out of this alive you would confess your love to him.

...

Dracule had gone out as always to do his job, kill. But he thought he felt a little lonely and realized it was because you weren't there. He would never admit it but his games and teasing towards you had a deeper meaning than just making you angry. He was amused when you challenged him but over time he realized that he had also fallen in love. Love…was it possible to feel that? Was it possible for someone like him to love? With you everything was possible.

With his Yoru on his waist he walked the beach looking for you, it was strange that you weren't turning around or running away from someone. Suddenly he saw someone but unfortunately it was not who he wanted to see. Shanks came running agitated and disheveled towards his friend.

"What do you want now Shanks? I'm not going to drink with you this time."

"It's Y/N! She's in danger, I saw how the government took her away!"-he said breathlessly

So the pirate hurriedly explained how he had seen Y/N and a girl in the market. He followed them and saw when they beat her and took her away. Dracule's eyes seemed to flash and turn yellower as his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword until his knuckles turned white. He turned around and with long steps walked away from there.

"Wait! Where are you going?"-Shanks shouted.

Mihawk without turning, said "I'm going to save her"

...

You were still in your cage racking your brain thinking about an idea to escape from there, you couldn't take it anymore. From time to time some men would approach your cell to whistle at you or laugh in your face. Suddenly you saw a loose screw in a wall and started rubbing the ropes to untie the ropes. It took you several tries but you got it. Just in time when a uniformed member of that ship came to bring you food. You pretended to still be tied and approached, hunched over a little. When he opened the cell you got up and kicked him to run away.

You felt him shouting orders to catch you but you didn't hear him, you just ran towards the deck, eager to get out of there. When you came out you saw a large number of men surrounding you, some holding guns, you decided to take the risk and fight with all your strength.

There were too many of them but you managed not to get hit. What you didn't take into account was that you felt the fatigue of being locked up and your strength was leaving you. Suddenly while you were fighting with an admiral you felt a gunshot and a burning sensation in your arm. With a grimace of pain you first looked at your bleeding arm, the bullet had grazed you but still cut you, and then you looked back. The man who had locked you up was holding the gun towards you.

"She's mine"

They fought, although it didn't last long. He was stronger and soon with a blow to your jaw and belly he left you lying on the ground. You felt your body burn and you held back the tears of pain that wanted to appear in your eyes. You crawled as best you could on the ground to get away from him.

"That's it, crawl like the bitch you are. You know, you were right, I love feeling superior to the weakest"-He laughed as he kicked your legs, making you scream in pain.

"Don't worry, I'll spare you the pain, it'll just be a quick death" He said sarcastically as he prepared to shoot.

You closed your eyes in fear and your body tense as you waited for the shot. but that never came, instead a strong shake made the ship shake, someone was firing cannons. With great effort you propped yourself up on your elbows and saw Mihawk's ship in the distance. You sobbed in relief.

The ship got closer and closer until it soon collided with the other and Dracule jumped towards where you were. You were feeling very sore so you could only pick up a few things, like how Mihawk seemed angrier than usual as he moved frantically and killed the men mercilessly. When he had finished he approached you with a genuinely concerned face, you've never seen him like this.

"M-mihawk...?"-you said almost without strength

He crouched down to your height. "Shh, don't say anything. Let's get out of here."

He picked you up from the ground and you complained about the pain, he tried to be as delicate as possible and taking you to the wedding reception he walked away from there so he could leave you in his castle. Your vision became blurry again and you became unconscious.

...

When you woke up you noticed a soft, pleasant warmth. You opened your eyes and noticed that you were in Mihawk's castle and that heat was from the fireplace. Dracule was sitting right in front of you, you smiled shyly and wanted to sit up but a sharp pain in your abdomen made the air escape from your lungs and you fell back into the chair. He approached, afraid that you had hurt yourself, and put his hand under your neck.

"Don't move, you still need to rest."

You looked down at your body and noticed that your shirt was gone and a large band on your abdomen was pressing against your skin. On your arm there was also a tight white band to stop the blood. You instinctively touched your lip and noticed that it was no longer bleeding.

"I called a doctor myself to treat you, he said that your injuries are not that serious and you will be fine."

You looked at him and suddenly remembered everything you had been through. All the accumulated nerves and tension were triggered and came out in the form of crying. Without realizing it you began to sob bitterly. Mihawk was worried and wiped away your tears, holding your cheek with his hand.

"Darling, what's wrong?"

You cried harder as you held on to his hand. How would you tell him that you loved him in a state like that? When you realized that you were about to die, you thought about him, how much you loved him and how much you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him. And now he had been so nice to you, as if he were someone else. You really felt that he cared about you and also felt love.

"Mihawk, I… I don't know where to start. Something like this had never happened to me, I- I felt afraid, very afraid. I thought I was going to die and the only thing I thought about was you" you felt your voice break "Thinking about you gave me hope, you were my anchor so I wouldn't give up and I realized… that I don't want to live without you, I love you."

Since you couldn't stop sobbing, Dracule approached you and kissed you on the lips. At first it was a sweet and tender kiss but soon you two realized that it was not enough, it was not enough to show all the love and desire that you had been suppressing so he placed a hand behind your neck and deepened the kiss. . You gasped in surprise when you felt his tongue run through your mouth but you gladly let him do it. Mihawk rested his knees on the cushions of the chair, cornering you while he raised your thighs and you surrounded his waist with your legs. Your hands surrounded his neck and he began to kiss your jaw and run his lips and his facial hair along your neck, tickling you.

"I didn't realize how much I loved you either until I saw you lying there, helpless" He whispered against your skin "All these games were starting to take their toll on me, you've cast a spell on me angel"

His words and his whispered voice were beginning to cause that tickling in your tummy that you already knew with the addition of a throbbing in your groin.

"Mihawk I-"

His mouth was now kissing your collarbones near your chest and making you sigh, you wanted more. You cautiously raised your hips until you bumped against his pelvis, wanting some friction as your hands were now in his hair. Mihawk kissed you again, sucking and biting your lower lip. Suddenly he got too close to your wounded belly and made you moan in pain. Startled slightly, he moved away from you a little, looking at you.

"Don't worry, it wasn't your fault, I'm fine."-You comforted him by stroking his jaw when you saw him so worried.

He nodded in relief and grabbed your hand to kiss your knuckles.

"Rest now my love, there will be time to enjoy the two of us"

You smiled a little blushing and he left you alone to recover. You never thought something like this could happen to you, or to him. Love love love. YES, that was it and you liked it that way. I resisted you thinking that at first they couldn't stand each other, and now… well only time will tell, but you were sure that this was the beginning of something beautiful.

...

That afternoon you went to visit your mother as you usually did. Now you were chatting with her in the same chair as always.

"Oh honey, the letters you sent me are very nice but you finally appear here!"-she laughed

Yes, it had been weeks since Mihawk let you stay in his castle, since you couldn't go out anywhere he suggested you write letters to your mother and he would send them himself. That's how you started telling your mother about your experience in the big castle, your relationship with Mihawk and what had happened to you. Until you recovered and were able to visit her like now.

"Well… what did you think? Did you read them all?"

"Of course yes! I admit that I was very scared when I read about the kidnapping, but it was lovely to know that they rescued you and left you in a castle!" She lowered her voice and looked at you knowingly. "Above all, I found the letters where you named Mihawk very interesting."

"Mom!"

You looked away blushing and embarrassed. In your letters you had told him what Dracule was like, but not what others could know about him but something deeper, what he was like inside. Your relationship with him had blossomed, you could say that you were already a formal couple. And your mother seemed happy about it. Of course you never clarified your intimate encounters with him, the way he touched you and made you sigh with pleasure.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to the castle, he's waiting for me for lunch."

"I understand love, I won't keep you anymore"

After a hug you said goodbye to her and ran towards the castle. Now you lived with him. You decided that after everything you went through you couldn't be away from him for a minute, ever again. You continued doing your job and his, sometimes separately or fighting together, that had not changed. When you arrived he greeted you with a small smile and a passionate kiss.

"Just in time, my angel"

"Always"

They both entered the castle holding hands, happy. As they say, the sun always comes out after the storm, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @canthebest1

[windienine]

on soul of sovereignty, ysmé the exalted, and gender presentation.

so! soulsov. soulsov and gender identity.

on my second playthrough (a livestream with friends), somebody pointed out that ysmé scanned to her as trans woman. i asked why, and we ended up in a conversation that lasted long into the night and notes for an analysis post i'd make at some inchoate point in the future.

that inchoate point is today!!

below the cut are some explorations into ysmé's character, her past, and potential intersections with gender identity. spoilers for the prelude ensue. if you're planning to play the game yourself in any capacity, i gently urge you to do that now before reading further. :)

I. YSMÉ, PRESENTATION, AND SPECTACLE

Ysmé is a practiced mage whose highly idiosyncratic use of artisanry (constructive magic) as a body mod is vital to how she chooses express herself as a person. She's out to become God and/or die trying.

We get introduced and reintroduced to Ysmé a whopping seven times throughout the prelude alone. In order, we are presented with her:

as a thief, stealing from a church,

as a sickly damsel, at the Lamplight,

as a treasure-hunter, when her guise starts to falter,

as a crazed mage, when she holds Loïc at gunpoint,

as a spooky ghost, when she is stabbed,

as a goddess, when she ascends,

and, finally, as a tired and scarred woman in the epilogue.

In many of these circumstances, how she appears to others is something she gets to dictate. Most notably, this factors into her choice to take the guise of a frail, sickly maiden` to better court the goodwill of Loïc (who she's already designated as a mark for this kind of act)

and when she later reveals her "true self" in the middle of the Hollow Temple to awe and frighten him. Here, she's in her full clowngirl glory! You can tell that she's spent time poring over every little flourish of this outfit, down to her nails matching the color of her facepaint. It's tacky, it's maximalist, it's sensual, it's a little unsettling, and boy is it everything. This is Ysmé qua Ysmé, and she makes sure you know it with the impact this one scene makes.

Even when we see her put together a look as a literal goddess, we get so much ostentatiousness that points exactly to what kind of person she wants to be seen as!

Two faces, one beneath the other, victory beneath a pulled-aside mask of tears. Fuller lips, fuller lashes behind a mask of smudged makeup. Eyes on her tatas because who the hell is there to tell her not to. She gets scene after scene where we get to see that she curates every single aspect of her appearance, and as someone who takes on many of the signifiers of a stage performer, she cares deeply about the kind of mask she chooses to wear.

Nothing here is accidental. Everything about how she genders herself is purposeful!

II. GHOST YSMÉ... (HEAVY SIGH) AND ALSO LANGLAIS'S ACCOUNT

The first time we see a version of Ysmé who isn't carefully curating her presentation using glamours, it's when she is quite literally dead. Along with wild hair and a body made of ghostly flames, she has a broader, straighter build than she had in any of her past guises (plus a gaping stab wound.)

It's our first hint that Ysmé's use of "glamour" goes beyond just a change of outfit and hairstyle. For friends more observant than I was on my first playthrough, this was the first "wait hold on is this an art style thing or is Ysmé being telegraphed as transgender, here?" moment.

There's one other named character appearing in the prelude who already has his own idea of who Ysmé is prior to the plot, and that's Langlais-- a police officer pursuing Ysmé at the behest of the Church of the Builder.

He quickly demonstrates himself to be pretty repugnant.

Regarding Ysmé's skill with artisanry, he remarks:

From context clues laid out in the wider text, "artisanry" is a magic based around weaving physical matter out of nothing. It is used in construction, art, and the production of goods, generally at a slow, measured pace, making one object at a time. Constructs made with artisanry are meant to be durable. It seems to be the main form of magic taught within the Mosaic, and its creation-based theming seems appropriate to the Builder writ large.

Ysmé's favored use of it (weaving entire new outfits and tools out of thin air, trading durability for speed and flexibility) is considered non-standard and low-brow-- "illusions" that are deceitful or childish in nature. Loïc has been mislead, he warns.

Langlais feels justified in treating Ysmé like some backyard nuisance that needs reining in and Loïc like a wuss for flinching at the sight of a gun, despite him having taken a demonstrably very real bullet from Ysmé's demonstrably very real (if spontaneously generated) handgun just the day before. It all clashes from what we've seen and the inferences we're meant to draw about how Ysmé uses magic--

however temporary, however breakable, Ysmé's "illusions" are to be taken seriously. I think that the way in which she chooses to modify herself should be included here, along with the possibility that that's not exactly an intended use case for artisanry.

In addition, when initially interrogating Loïc, he refers to Ysmé like this

implying that he believes that "Ysmé" is some sort of fake name or alias.

III. BODY DYSMORPHIA

The scene after Ysmé comes down off of her holy high and wakes up ass-naked in god-knows-where, having been assigned to do god-knows-what by the Voice of the Sovereignty, holds a lot of interesting implications for Ysmé in particular.

We get this remark from her internal narration:

Okay, so this is generally the first thing she does when she wakes up. Before doing anything else with her day, she uses artisanry to change her appearance. There are plenty of reasons why this could be the case (vanity, status as a wanted criminal, etc.), but the emphasis on it in this scene makes me believe the text is indicating that Ysmé might suffer from dysphoria and/or dysmorphia.

We get a good look at her in the very next CG, along with the one after, showing us an Ysmé with a different appearance than any of the guises we've seen before...

Ysmé, without any glamours or illusions being sustained, is an androgynous figure, akin to her ghost form. Still quite pale, still a skinny little thing, but the entire cut of her face and all of her body proportions are pretty different than, say,

any of this, in scenes where she's in full control of how she gets to look using magic.

Frankly, she looks like "mysterious elven prince" material, and it contrasts quite a bit with how she presents herself in the temple especially.

For now, I'm not going to go into any supplemental materials like the sketches and paintings featured on GG's blog, but they play with Ysmé's presentation on the regular there as well.

The conclusion I feel like I'm supposed to draw from all of this is that Ysmé is a transgender woman who uses her unique skill for artisanry to change her appearance to whatever she feels suits her. She is not necessarily comfortable being seen or seeing herself without a glamour on, but in this scene she is too spent to do anything about it.

IV. HAHA HEY GG WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH THIS

BUT, that is not where the game ends. The prelude leaves us on a stinger.

A lone figure stands over an altar, praying to the Builder that His lost children, swayed by the Devil, may yet find their way.

The camera then pans over a figure that looks nearly identical to the Ysmé we saw a scene ago (albeit without any scars), right down to the soul-stealing blue eyes, fancy hair part, and really good clavicles. They open their eyes in response to the prayer.

So far, we've got very little context for this. It appears to take place in the same church as the opening scene where Ysmé is caught stealing, but we don't know who this person or the figure in the church is, and we don't even know if this is happening concurrently to the prior scene or if this is a flashback.

It's still of interest, I think. Something that didn't catch my eye the first time around and that I still didn't quite process until I saw the isolated CG on GG's blog:

Hey, check out that carved idol (presumably of the Builder himself?) right in the center of the goddamned church-- a familiar cut of the jaw, and a familiar hair part. Ysmé doesn't just look the part of a prince, she quite literally looks like an incarnation of the Mosaic's creator deity, who is exclusively referred to using masculine terms.

If the person in the end CG isn't Ysmé, then who is it? Why do Ysmé and this person both heavily resemble the Builder?

I could draw all sorts of conclusions about this from the text as written so far, but the one that feels most relevant here is this: if Ysmé is indeed "meant" to look like the Builder, if she was made to serve a very distinct purpose, if she was at some point meant to serve as a living vessel for His will,

wouldn't that put any decision by her to trans her gender in a very narratively relevant light?

Wouldn't that put her decision to leave the Mosaic and seek the Sovereignty in a very different light?

Wouldn't that mean that the story that she told Loïc on the way to the Hollow Temple (fleeing a religious family to serve a higher purpose-- even if it's just for herself) was technically true, after all?

If nothing else, it would put into perspective why a Church lapdog such as Langlais has been ordered to pursue her, along with a fully mobilized police unit in tow.

This pretty quickly takes a flying leap into the realm of speculation on my part, but I'm sure there's some connection between all of these similar elements and I'm interested in how it plays into Ysmé's character.

V. LOÏC, AND CONCLUSIONS

Let's jump back to that scene of Loïc and Ysmé waking up together.

None of this seems to come as much of a surprise to Loïc, who gives her the cloak off his back for modesty and regards her kindly despite the kind of day she has just put them both through. There's never any demand from him for her "real" name, no demand that she explain herself further, and certainly no shock about her appearance.

I'm inclined to agree with Loïc's read of the situation, here.

Ysmé is demonstrably a pretty poor liar. The dying ingenue act doesn't have much in the way of substance to it-- certainly not enough to buoy her through several conversations and a mutant wolf encounter with Loïc on the way to the Hollow Temple-- but the speech she gave in the forest about wanting something better for herself, a second chance away from a controlling family

struck a chord with Loïc. Despite it having been woven into her ongoing wicker basket of lies, there's a glimmer of something true, there. Ysmé wants the capital-S Sovereignty-- and lowercase-s sovereignty over her future and what she gets to make of herself.

Judging from her seeming unfamiliarity with the outside world, it might not be something she's ever had before.

None of her presentations by themselves comprise a complete snapshot of who Ysmé is as a person. However, they are different parts of the elephant, so to speak-- there is flicker of truth in each of them. After seeing several, Loïc decided that the fuller picture they form isn't one of the kind of person who would doom humanity.

He doesn't truly know her, yet, no. However, I think he has decided what he has seen of her paints a picture of a lonely, long-suffering, malcontented queer lady who, indeed, as mentioned by the pastor (?) figure in the first CG...

... has a heart. More alike to his own than different, even. In every form she's taken, she's revealed a little more about who she is and who she would like to be seen as. (For the record, I also feel like there are a few parts of the text that imply Loïc is his own flavor of trans and/or queer, but that's a much bigger leap and would deserve its own post)

I'm not sure how much all of these inferences will be backed in the final release. In Loïc's words,

Thank you for reading!

(your honor, i love her.)

[thebiscuiteternal]

I love your larger age gap Nie Bros au! I want to float the idea of a role reversal larger age gap au where Nie Huaisang is the much older sibling of the pair, and Nie Mingjue is the baby brother.

Whew.

Honestly, it would lean more towards the "bitter" side of bittersweet, because Nie Huaisang has spent his entire fourteen/fifteen years of life knowing that even if his father has tried to love him, even though he has tried to be a good son, he's not the kind of heir his father or the sect wants and never will be. He's sharp and clever, but also small and sickly and exhausted easily and will never be a good night hunter or battle leader. He's so very un-Nie-like that only the fact that he shares his father's eye color and a few of his facial features keeps people from making accusations about his parentage (and even that doesn't stop them sometimes).

But at least his father never tried to replace him or his deceased mother, right?

And then, right after his father has just died, a midwife shows up with a strong healthy baby and a bundle of paperwork declaring the child fully legitimate, and Huaisang has to grapple with the realization that his father did very much try to get a replacement, and since the paperwork is all nice and legal, the elders and senior disciples likely knew about it and said nothing.

He wants to scream or vomit or break things or hit someone, but he does none of the above and just sits beside the crib and stares at nothing while the elders debate his future like he's not even present.

Then there is a little tug on his hair, and when he looks down, little Mingjue has a fistful of it stuffed in his mouth and is staring up at him with big green eyes and... dammit, he can't hate this kid. Mingjue doesn't know what's going on, has no idea how he's destroyed what little of a life his older brother had just by existing. It's not his fault.

Huaisang sighs and gently tugs his hair free, then reaches in to let Mingjue clutch his hand and giggle and gnaw on his fingers.

It's eventually decided that Huaisang will be (a puppet) sect leader, with provisions that as soon as the sect has decided Mingjue is old enough, he will abdicate and leave, so as not to complicate his brother's position by hanging around.

Needless to say, this does not make Huaisang feel the slightest bit better, but he has no choice other than to at least try to do well by his new title, which proves to be more difficult than it has to be because literally every single one of his decisions gets argued and debated and he's constantly being patronized even though it's apparent he's not as stupid as people expect him to be.

Ironically, the son who will replace him winds up becoming his only refuge. Since they didn't have the years of being brothers from the Reverse Nie "canon" timeline, Mingjue never grows up absorbing the disdain everyone else has for Huaisang. Rather, Mingjue has already imprinted on him and throws unholy fits when people try to keep them apart.

It's more common than not that Mingjue sleeps cuddled against his brother's chest in Huaisang's bed instead of his own crib. He starts developing a fierce protective streak before he even knows how to walk or talk, scowling at anyone whose tone he doesn't like when they talk to his brother and trying to grab for hair or throw things at them when he gets really upset about it. People learn quick that if they want to badmouth Huaisang, they have to do it out of earshot of Mingjue, and that only holds more true as he grows up and begins grasping language and starts becoming aware of the disparity between how hard his brother is trying versus the things people say about him.

Everyone else better start watching their insults before they find that Mingjue has grown to have more loyalty to the brother who loves him and does his damnedest to care for him despite all his other duties versus the sect who wants to split them up.

And that's as far as I've currently gotten with this idea.

[sleeplessdreamer123]

Fanfic Idea! (ABO Lucemond, A Dragon's Hunt or Where Aemond Finally Found Lucerys after 12 years)

Baelon is beyond worried. Winter came early in Essos, and it was the worst one he had ever experienced. They haven't collected enough supplies, they were already running out of food, and though they tried so hard to ration everything, it still wasn't enough.

And now his mother was sick. His mother tried to act like it was nothing to worry about, but his coughs just kept getting worse. Aemon even told him of the blood stained handkerchief he tried to hide away.

He felt a pang of guilt once more, and looking at his brother's face, he knew he wasn't alone. He heard from the healers that their births weakened their mother, that it took all his energy, and his body never regained strength after that. He was almost always tired, so easily sick, though he always tried to hide how sick he was. Now he couldn't, not with how it changed his appearance.

His mother always had fair skin, but now it was a sickly pallor. His body was so thin, so light, Baelon was sure he would be able to carry him with ease at the age of ten and two name days. His breathing was labored, each breath was painful to listen to, almost like the dying man he saw when he sold herbs to the healers (he didn't like that comparison at all).

Not for the first time, Baelon wished he had someone to share the burden with, for someone to take it away entirely. Aemon was smart and resourceful, succeeding in making the healers train him in exchange for herbs he and Baelon collected, so he would know what to do when their mother got sick. He was the only partner Baelon ever had to share his duties with, but he could never truly let Aemon know just how hopeless he felt about the situation. He was the eldest, even if he was only a few minutes older, and he didn't want his younger brother to despair like he was.

No, Baelon wanted someone older, older than them, someone who would know what to do, who could guide them in confidence, and assure them that they would be safe and well-cared for. Not for the first time, Baelon wished he had his father.

His mother never spoke of him, when he told stories of his life before the war in Westeros, before fleeing to Essos, before the boat he was on sank, before the old fisherman found him floating in the waves, before he died a few years later, forcing their mother to leave the warm sands and salty waves with two small children. He always changed the subject, even objecting the mere mention of their father. They were worried, at first, that their father died in the ship, that it was the reason their mother couldn't speak of him. But he told them, in one of his feverish delusions, that he was alive and well, but that he wished he would never find them. They never got any answers as to why.

Still, in such dire situations like this, Baelon dreamed that their father would come for them. He dreamed that he would take them away, so his mother would be cured, so he wouldn't feel such a heavy burden of duties and responsibilities as the oldest, healthiest one on the family. So he wouldn't have to constantly worry for the safety of his family, for the life of his mother, for what could happen if his mother does get a visit from the Stranger. So he could go back to being a child again, even for just a moment.

He wished for someone to take the heavy burden off his chest, off his shoulders.

But there wasn't any. And their supplies need refilling.

So he wrapped himself up in as much clothing as he could. Aemon needed to stay, to watch over their mother, and he had to go collect fallen branches for wood. Maybe he could collect enough to sell some and buy an axe, maybe try to trade with some hunters, or the butcher.

He hoped the traps he set up had ensnared something today, at least.

---------------

Aemon is terrified. He heard the loud roar first, followed by the shaking of the ground. He saw through the cracks of the window, a huge beast, a dragon has landed close to their home.

He didn't know what to do. His mind is blank. Baelon wasn't there. He needed Baelon. He always knows what to do.

But he wasn't there. And the dragon's rider was approaching.

He heard of the war in Westeros. He heard of how the greens and blacks massacred each other. He heard of how the greens won by burning the Black Queen in front of her son. That there was only one dragon rider left, the Prince Regent. The one they called Kinslayer. The one who ordered the death of his half-sister's family.

And he was approaching their home.

If they go through the back door, the dragon would spot them, it might eat them alive, or worse, burn them to crisp. If he didn't do anything, who knows what the dragon rider would do?

He made a split decision. He ran to his mother's room, and grabbed his mother's knife. He then hid beside the door, and waited. When the door was kicked open, he pounced.

It was stupid. He knew that. He wasn't usually that reckless. Baelon would have smacked him in the head. It was such a feeble attempt he would have laughed at himself for thinking it could work. A ten and two name day old child was nothing compared to a war hardened dragon rider. He was smacked away, his head hitting the wall. He knew he was concussed, but he stood up, his vision blurring, his hand pointing at the man with his knife.

He couldn't see the man's expression. He did hear his mother screaming, saw his figure in front of him blocking him from the man, before he was taken by the darkness.

I'm sorry Baelon. I'm sorry mother. I failed you.

------

When Aemon fell, Lucerys felt a wave of terror. News of his brothers' deaths, his step-father's, and his mother's execution made him scream at the thought of losing another loved one. He turned to check, only for Aemond to grab him by the waist and pulled him close.

"I found you, Lucerys." He whispered, his voice stirring memories in Lucerys he wished to forget. He struggled, coughing, trying to get away.

"Lykiri, Lucerys, lykiri. Is this how you would treat your husband after so long?" He sounded amused, tightening his grip, so hard that Lucerys gasped, which set off another round of coughs. Aemond loosens his hold, and Lucerys slaps pushes away, rushing straight to his son.

He was breathing. A little shallow, but it was enough. Lucerys quickly placed Aemon's head on his lap, checking for injuries. He couldn't stop his coughs, and shivered when he felt himself being wrapped in a warm cloak.

Lucerys turned to him now.

Aemond looked older. Of course he did, it had been so long since they last saw each other. Still, he continues to look unfairly handsome. His hair was cut, and on his head he saw it. Aegon's crown. He felt sick for ever thinking of how handsome he was when his family fell because of him.

He turned to Aemon, watching his chest rise and fall, assuring himself that he was just unconscious. Not dead. Just unconscious.

"How..." He croaked. His throat was dry from coughing, he cleared it painfully, before trying again. "How did you find me?"

"Hmmm?" Aemond hummed, pulling Lucerys close to his chest. Lucerys allowed it. He was tired, he could feel his strength living him once again.

"Simple, really. I never stopped looking." He played with Lucerys' hair, a familiar thing he did before. "At first, when I received word that your mother stole you from the Red Keep, from my very bed, and shipped you on a boat, I looked for a boat heading to Pentos, then I heard it sank, so I searched the ocean, looking for the wreck."

His hands travelled downwards to his waist once more, his chin rested on Lucerys' shoulders. "Then I searched each body that floated up. When I couldn't find yours, I listened to every rumor of bodies washed up on shores. I left King's Landing each time to see if it was you. Grandfather was disappointed in me, made me fight in the front lines for a while, cut off all my contacts pertaining you. When I finally ended the damned war, I heard the old rumor of a fisherman from Essos finding a pregnant omega, but he died, and the omega left. The trail was cold by the time I arrived." His thumb was drawing circles, almost tickling Lucerys. "My grandfather died that day."

"I could do nothing else, so I waited. I listened. Every rumor I followed, led to nothing. Soon I heard of a widowed omega with two sons, one with long dark hair and purple eyes, and the other with a curly silvery mess with soft brown eyes, living at the edge of the forest in Essos. At that time, I almost gave up. I decided I would try one last time. I was sure to be disappointed."

He sniffed at his neck, inhaling the sweet, sweet smell, savoring it. Lucerys focused his gaze on Aemon, determined to not look beside him.

"But then a brat ran up to me with the same knife that mutilated me years ago. And the omega of my nightmares showed himself to me, clad in such thin clothes in such a cold weather."

"Why come at all? Why couldn't you let me go?" He coughed out, and this time, blood came out of his lips. He tried wiping it off.

"Oh Lucerys." He sighed, as if disappointed he would ask that. He grabbed his chin, forcing Lucerys to face him. He wiped the remaining blood off his lips, staring at it with such hunger.

"You're mine. I have searched the world for you, I've gone so far as fly to the edge of Old Valyria just to look for you. I flew through the seas and the lands at the very chance of you being there. Now that I have you again, I won't be letting you go. You will be with me until the end of your days, until your last breath. That is your punishment."

Lucerys felt his heart flutter, and he hated himself. He hated himself for still loving the man who killed his family, he hated himself for falling for his words. That worst part of all was the fact that he could feel it. The sincerity, the love so close to obsession. As he saw Aemond lean in, he closed his eyes.

He gave himself completely. And the dragon finally caught his prize.

--------

Westeros never thought they would ever welcome the return of their omega Prince, the once-thought dead husband of the Prince Regent, and their two sons. Servants whispered of how Prince Aegon III cried in arms, with Prince Viserys II still in shock. Lord Corlys hugged his grandson, and Lucerys accepted his embrace.

The new Princes Baelon and Aemon were heavily scrutinized by the green council, but it only took one word from Aemond to get put them in line. He reinstated Lucerys as Prince-Consort, to the dismay of the council, but they could do nothing. Aemond was not Aegon, not a puppet, but a powerful individual.

Soon, the Targaryen family began to rebuild themselves back to their former glory, with Vhagar birthing to five dragon eggs, and Lucerys being pregnant once again.

When Aegon III and Jaehaera were old enough, Aemond passed the crown to them, and took his family to Driftmark to live the rest of their days.

-----------

I wrote too many sad one shots about those two. I think they deserve a break, so here's a happy ending. Enjoy!

*sidenote, this is a different au from "The Past Repeats Itself".

(tell me what you think....👀👀)

[mrtoadthetoad]

“What is this place?” The man in the mask asked softly, looking over the tents, the bodies, and the grass splattered with blood. She had found him along the way, a hunter supposedly. He was tall, and muscular, but overdressed. He spoke in an accent, she tried to place. Africa he had clarified, as if it would help. Her southern roots almost made her run, before remembering that she needed him. A disgrace.

“urbum lutu.” Mene answered, softly looking over the land,it looked awful. Everything was so trashed and the people, thrown away like rats. Dead. At least she thought they must be dead, hopefully, or it would’ve creeped her out more than it already did, she bent down to close their eyelids. A respect to their souls, at least it was how she viewed it. It seemed a bit poetic, to say goodbye to the soul and to the senses, she looked back up at the land before translating, “City of Mud. This place, that’s what the maps called it at least.”

She looked down at the river beside her feet, flowing softly, slowly. A finger poked out, and she avoided the urge to gag, as she watched it float along. She wondered what had happened to the person, she looked around. She reminded her brain of the bodies, their skin. A sickly yellow. Must’ve been sick. Maybe they died of illness, that must’ve been horrible. Or maybe it had been a coincidence, she wasn’t sure what happened to bodies after they died. She could’ve been looking at the perfect place to study. Or maybe she was looking at tragedy. These people, what could’ve they died of? Had it been punishment, Or starvation.

She heard animals around her, a small rabbit, around her. A person, a little boy, chasing after it. The rabbit was so small, but that boy. The boy was so skinny. Mene could count his bones, she watched him, intrigued.

“Think they get food?” The man in the mask scoffed behind her. She almost hit him, he was disgusting.

She continued walking, bending down at a woman’s body. She had a bite mark out of her side, “human.” Mene sighed looking down, at the bite marks at the woman’s wrists. At the woman with a knife in her back, bleeding.

She collected a story in her head, but said nothing else as she walked. A tale more like.

This place could’ve once been a camp, but what was it now? She stuck the thought into her brain and moved on.

The place was so green, so pretty. Rocks were wet, everything was so beautiful. And yet it wasn’t. The ground was much too hot, and the river was being drained. It could run out, she realized as she thought of the little boy. A dandelion brushed her ankle and she looked down, at a bee flying around her, she scoffed.

Her thoughts broken by a shout, and footsteps. People were runnning. “What the fuck?” She screamed staring as one pushed her over.

“They’re coming- they’re-“ a boy spoke rapidly before a women pulled him closer,”Run!” He shouted finally before the woman hushed him.

“What are they tal-“ she paused, as the man in the mask placed his filthy hand on her mouth, and tackled her into the bushes. How dare he touch her?

He hushed her, and they both waited. For the two shots, into the air. She gasped slightly, turning to look at him with panic in her eyes. He shrugged, trying to reassure her? He wasn’t sure.

“I hate this job” “same here. This is kids, we have to kill. Woman. It sucks” “so why do it?” “We need the food, you know that” “I know but-“ “no buts. We have to hunt”

“Fuck,” he whispered and grabbed her wrist,”we have to run.”

He didn’t wait for her, running away from the camp. Smart, she noted. The hazel dirt under his feet kicking up as the grass rubbed under his shoes. She hesitated before following him, trying to keep silent as she went. Two men, maybe more, with guns? Hand a person a gun and they learn to shoot. She couldn’t resist it.

She ran with him.

“Where are you going?” She shouted, at him, while he rushed off, “man!” Mene groaned as she watched the man in the mask. She wasn’t fit enough to do this. Where was he going. She dropped onto the hazel dirt, and sighed. A small tear dripped down her face as she waited. She was completely alone, the tears dripped with each fear. She watched as the cerulean sky’s clouds covered the earth, drops of rain falling on her face as it got darker. The sleep was intoxicating but she couldn’t focus on that. Water. She needed water, it reminded her.

“Shit.” She whispered, getting wet and scared. Alone, in the dark, possibly by the men with guns. She was so screwed.

“What are you doing” she held her breath, and pressed herself into the wood of the tree when she heard the voices “what are you- what are you- Mike- no- Stop- please- I have a family- I have a-“

Boom.

Silence fell, as she covered her ears, and an audible cry came out of her mouth. She knew she messed up then, as one man came into her line of vision. He couldn’t see her yet, she reminded herself, as she froze as if she could turn into the wood. Please don’t see me

“Run, little rabbit,” the man taunted as he searched for the sound, she whimpered softly, “Run. Run little rabbit.”

She pressed herself closer to the uncomfortable wood. What would happen if he found her? She would- Mene couldn’t do that. She couldn’t afford to think of it. She didn’t want to.

“Run,” he smirked,”little rabbit.” He cocked his gun. He pointed it at Mene’s face. He smiled.

[fortune-fool02]

Bad Guy

Las Plagas Luis Sera x female reader

Summary: One of Luis' favourite games was Hide 'N' Seek, but he enjoyed this version even more so.

Warning: Violence. Yandere themes. Blood. Dark Luis Serra.

I'm happy to see you guys enjoy Las Plagas Luis! Thank you for reading! Please enjoy!

Thick darkness sprawled along every wall, filling every little corner of the facility. Broken only by the occasional flickering of a dim-glowing light from above a doorway or low-swinging ceiling light. It didn't matter though, she had to work with what little light she had. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, mixed with a chilling fear that refused to let her stop, not even to catch her breath properly.

Her throat burned, clawing all the way down her throat to her lungs that stung with each gasping breath, begging for her to stop. Her eyes darted quickly, searching around her surroundings. Had she already been here before? Was she running in circles or was the concoction of anxiety and fear making everything appear the same?

A rough cough scrapped her chest, her hand shooting up to muffle the sounds the best she could. These haunting hallways carried sound down like the sharp vibrations of a spider's thread in its web, leading the hunter towards his prey. To think that a mere two hours or so ago, this situation never crossed her mind as even a possibility. She held onto some distant speck of hope that they would make it. That all of them would escape this trial of Hell unscathed.

Such a naïve belief.

Shaking her head, she focused on the task at hand. She needed to find the damn key card terminals to overwrite the one she had to allow her access to escape. In another time, she may have understood the reasoning behind needing the overwriting key cards or security as well as authorisations, but at this moment, she cursed whoever designed this idea.

A soft sound could be heard echoing down the corridor, a haunting melody, humming through the air, filling her body with a sense of panic. The distortion of the halls made it difficult to determine its source's location, sounding both right beside her and elsewhere beyond her field of vision. Unease pricked along her skin as she took off running again. At one point, that humming would have filled her with a comforting warmth, embracing her like a lover's gentle hold. Now, it only brought a tense coldness that froze over her body.

"Pequeño ratón, where are you?" His voice struck through her like an ice spike, piercing her heart. That sickly sweet tone laced with venom. He wasn't happy that she was trying to run away. But he knew the layout of this facility like the back of his hand, every little corner, every nail and bolt while [Name] didn't. He was closer than she expected, pushing her to turn around the corner and froze in her tracks.

At the end of the hallway, his silhouette stood, encased in darkness to the point he looked nothing more than a standing shadow. Two piercing red dots the only spark of colour on this shadow. Something long and thin held in one hand, held loosely as it lightly scraped along the floor, scrapping metal against metal as it did.

"There you are, amar." A cry of fear blocked her throat, barely creating a whispering gasp before she turned on her heel and bolted, hearing his chuckles follow behind her. Her eyes fell onto a door and she forced her way in, closing it behind her and dragging one of the desks over to it in an attempt to block it. The awful scraping of the metal legs against the floor made her grit her teeth, trying to get it over and done with before trying to find a spot to hide.

Someplace Luis wouldn't think to check. Noticing the vent grate on the floor, an idea came to mind. It was large enough for her to fit through and her only way out at this moment. Moving over quickly, she laced her fingers through the metal gaps and pulled, it shifted lightly under her grip and so she pulled harder until it finally gave away with a clink. Relief flooded her as she set it aside quietly and looked around the inside. Her legs were slot in first when the tapping at the door was heard.

Panic flared as the thudding grew louder, more angered.

"[Name], time to stop playing games now. I'm getting a little annoyed now." Luis' voice was soft but the tone was low, dark. She could only picture the look in his red eyes, the swallowing anger that threatened to build up more and more. The metal of the door began to bend, dints appearing on the opposite side, shaped like fists. Was he punching it?

"[Name]! Open the door!" The door whined out, the hinges beginning to bend as the door began to falter. Turning back to the vent, [Name] pushed herself down, the vent allowed just enough room for her to crawl but it was a tight squeeze. A loud crash boomed, sounding more like a gunshot than a door being forced open.

Using her hands, she had to slowly crawl her way through the tight space, though the tight, vice grip on her ankle ripped a fearful cry from her. Lashing out her other leg, she tries to kick Luis' hand off, trying to squirm out of his grip but it was pointless. His strength was always more than hers but that was before thay damn parasite blessed him with more strength.

A forceful pull was all it took before she was lifted up and out of the vents, lifting up above the floor.

"Maldita sea, will you quit squirming?!" Luis' voice was as sharp as the slap across her cheek before he shoved her onto the floor, his bodyweight being used to pin her down. His eyes burning through her, his knee pushing against her arm.

"Ah! Luis, please! Let me go!" She cried out, something that only made him smile, like a cat watching a mouse squirm under its claws.

"Why? You seemed to enjoy playing our little game, darling." Looking up at him, [Name] couldn't see anything in those eyes of the Luis she loved. It was like something else was wearing his face, using his voice, trying to deceive her into believing it truly was him. The times they had laid together in bed, nuzzling and holding one another, the loving embrace between them was something she knew.

This, this moment between them, there was no warmth. No love. Only an icy coldness that hollowed her out. Her hand shifted to the side slowly, her fingers brushing against his metal pole and slowly curled around it.

"I'm not your darling, you're not my Luis." She spat out, her gaze hardening. "You're just some fucked up bad-guy!" With all the strength she had, she swung the metal pole up into the side of his head. The sound of metal smashing bone made her stomach churn but she had to do it. Even if it hurt to hear the loud, agonised cry that he let out as his body fell off her, his hands clutching the side of his head. Hot blood poured from between his fingers, spilling down the side of his face and neck.

Taking her chance, she scrambled to her feet to run only for him to grab hold of her leg, crashing his weight into her to knock them both down. His blood dripped onto her face as his hands latched onto her throat, his eyes burning ever brighter with rage. The blood spilling down his face making them seem all the more brighter.

The torn flesh and shattered bone knitted themselves together, the little tendrils of the plaga peeking from under the skin before vanishing under the healed flesh.

Luis' voice, despite the rage in his face, was eerily calm.

"You want me to be the bad guy? Fine. Now I'm the bad guy."

[lady-pug]

Warm Sand, Soft Hands

Summary: As you and Din try and help Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens against the Great Krayt Dragon, a split second decision from Din’s part might just change everything and leave you heartbroken. Heartbroken and furious.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Word count: 3,7k

Warnings: this one is quite angsty, plus a few descriptions of injuries (burns and blisters), but nothing further than that

Notes: okay, this is my first time ever posting on tumblr (other than a few reblogs, that is). I’ve only just gotten around to creating an account and I’m currently working on adding all of my already existing works on here. So I really hope you enjoy this! If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

This work is part of a series, but all of the parts can be read as standalone one-shots (they are posted in non-chronological order). Reader’s gender not specified.

Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

Din couldn’t possibly discern what was wrong with you. You had been quiet for the entirety of the ride, your hands loosely wrapped around his waist. On more than one occasion he'd had to hold tightly onto your forearms while going over a dune, otherwise you certainly would have been thrown off the speeder. While he knew you weren’t particularly fond of Tatooine, too many bad memories tarnishing the planet for you, you had been fine when you first landed.

Once the speeder came to a stop near the entrance to the sarlacc pit you quickly hopped off, barely looking at him, and turned to move towards Vanth. But Din was faster and quickly grabbed your wrist before you could take a single step. Damn those bounty hunter reflexes. 

“Is everything alright?” he said, almost reverently “You seem tense.”

Shaking your head you tried to ease him, and yourself, with a strained smile.

“It’s nothing, Mando. No need to worry.”

“You know I always worry.” that seemed to make your smile shift to a more genuine one.

“I just-” you sighed “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“About what?”

“This!” you opened your arms and gestured around you in frustration “all of this! Slaying a krayt dragon is madness!” your voice dropped almost to a whisper “That thing could kill us all.”

His heart clenched at the look of pure fear in your eyes. Yes, it was madness, it would probably get messy really quickly but he had to do this. Too many lives were at risk if they didn’t kill this dragon now.

“You know I hate this as much as you do” now he was the one to sigh  “but we need to do this. The whole town and the Tuskens are depending on us.”

A sad smile appeared on your face.

“I know.”

You nodded at him and went to walk away but he held you in place with a hand to your upper arm.

“I won’t let anything happen to you” his voice was soft, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing up and down your arm “I promise.”

You chuckled halfheartedly.

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

His thumb came to a halt mid rub as his heart skipped a beat. 

“Be careful out there, Mando.”

He gave your upper arm a light squeeze.

“You too, Cyar’ika.”

“How is that thing not dead?!” the Weequay bartender shouted over the deafening roar of the krayt dragon. The giant beast had managed to somehow dodge the explosion and crawled its way up a cliff. Sickly green acidic goo was projectiled from the creature’s stomach, getting a much better range than before.

“Oh, for kriff’s sake!” 

You knew from the moment you accepted Din’s (back then known as Mando) offer to be his live-in mechanic/nanny for The Child that this wouldn’t be a normal job. You just knew you would have to fend off bounty hunters, just like you had with Calican, and occasionally patch The Mandalorian up after a job gone wrong. But this certainly wasn’t on the job description. 

“I’m so asking Mando for a raise.” (not that you needed it, having him and the baby in your life was already payment enough on its own).

Out of the corner of your eye you could see two figures fly up towards the dragon. Din and Vanth landed on a slope and started shooting but even that didn’t work, as the dragon went back underground.

Disorientated, you, Tuskens and townsfolk started frantically looking around trying to predict where the dragon would pop up next. Turns out that was a little bit too close to where you were currently standing. You tried to fire your blaster at it but nothing seemed to work as it kept coming closer to you. You heard your name being shouted somewhere behind you.

“Get out of there!” Din’s modulated voice barely registered over the thumping of your heart on your ears. Sprinting away as the dragon came in your direction, you stumbled over your feet a safe distance away.

Suddenly it changed its course. It started crawling towards Din, Cobb and… a bunch of explosives tied up to a bantha.

“Smart, Mando. Very smart.”  

But your inner celebration was short lived. Din hit Cobb’s jetpack, making him fly away. But Din didn’t move; he wasn’t moving even as the dragon got closer and closer. In the few moments it took for you to realize what was happening and will your legs to start working again it was too late. 

Your feet felt glued to the ground. Your breath hitched and you felt as if your heart had stopped beating. Din’s plan had worked: the krayt dragon had devoured the bantha and with it, your Mandalorian.

You faintly heard someone screaming as the beast, seemingly satisfied, retreated back under the sand. It took you a few moments and two pairs of robe clad arms holding you back for you to realize you were the one screaming. Soft sand came in contact with the fabric of your trousers as your knees buckled.

It hurt. Maker, everything hurt. Your chest was on fire and you couldn’t inhale without being acutely aware of every particle of sand mixed with air as you tried to fill your lungs with oxygen. But it kriffing hurt. Something warm was running down your cheeks, blurring your vision and rolling off your chin and onto the sand. Tears. You were crying, sobbing, having witnessed your Mandalorian die a second time. 

The blood rushing in your ears almost led you to miss the distinct rumble of the krayt dragon re-emerging. Not again you thought. That thing already took too much from you, how was it not dead yet?

But then you saw something: as the dragon shot upwards something flew out of its mouth through an electrical storm, followed by the thing exploding up in flames. No, not something, someone. You squinted your eyes to try and get rid of the blur of tears against the harsh sun and realized… it was Din! He was alive and safe and very much not dead. 

As he landed before the dead dragon both the people from Mos Pelgo and the Tuskens started to congratulate and cheer for him. In that moment, the relief you felt just seconds ago from seeing he was okay suddenly shifted to a strange sense of embarrassment and anger. Your face burned in humiliation as you scolded yourself. Your tears previously born out of sorrow turned to ones of anger. Maker, you felt pathetic. Crying over a man who didn’t seem to give two bantha fodders about his own safety, about who he’d leave behind if he died or about you for all it seemed.

Getting off the ground you decided to give your- (No, he wasn’t yours to begin with) -the Mandalorian a piece of your mind.

He did it. He slayed a kriffing krayt dragon, a giant one at that. As his feet touched the ground he felt a small twinge of pride as the villagers cheered him on, but it was quickly snuffed out and replaced by relief. He only delivered the final blow afterall, it took a lot of combined effort from everyone to kill this thing, the people from Mos Pelgo, the Tuskens, Vanth, you… Maker, you were great out there. Well, you were always great, at least in his eyes, always making sure the kid was safe and protected. Where were you by the way? 

As he turned around in search of you he finally spotted you. But something wasn’t… quite right. You didn’t look happy or relieved, like he thought you would be. You looked downright pissed.

“Cyar’ika-”

The last thing he expected to happen was for you to shove him away from you. But his armor was still covered in stomach acid from the dragon and the moment your hands came in contact with his breastplate you pulled them away with a wail of agony.

“Cyar’ika, what are you doing?! Here let me-” as he took a step towards you and went to grab your hands in order to check them over you stumbled away from him.

“No!” you tucked your injured hands close to your chest “Don’t call me that!”

That made him freeze. He always called you that, ever since that fateful day in Nevarro, you were his cyar’ika. You may not have known what it meant but he knew you could easily guess it was something affectionate. 

“Are you kriffing stupid?!” you shouted at him, to which he stayed silent. “Why would you do that?! What were you thinking?”

“I saw an opportunity and decided to take it.” he mumbled after a moment, still a little uncertain about this whole interaction. 

You scoffed. That’s such a Mando thing to say.

“You jumped in the mouth of a Great Krayt Dragon, Mando!” you were practically shaking, vibrating with rage “You clearly didn’t think this through, did you?! Didn’t think about who you were leaving behind?”

He was about to retort, commenting on how he didn’t jump into its mouth, he was only holding the bantha and just happened to be in the way of its jaws when he saw it. Just a quick glimpse, barely there, but he managed to see it, his heart clenching as he realized what he was seeing. Beneath all the anger, the rage, was fear. The same look of unadulterated fear he saw on your face right before the fight began was back, and a lot stronger. Maker, he was so stupid, how could he be so dense? Of course you were scared, you just watched him die, again. It was the second time you thought he was dead in a too short period of time.

“I-I’m sorry, Cyar’ika, I-” you shook your head, your eyes turning misty and clouded, and walked away before you broke down in front of him.

Din felt something warm, uncomfortable and almost suffocating grow on his chest, crawling up his throat: it was guilt. He felt so guilty, he was trying to protect everyone, protect you, but he ended up hurting you in the process, after you specifically told him to be careful because you were worried about him. But no, he had to go and get himself eaten alive. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how you were feeling, first having left him to die (upon his request) in Nevarro and now this. He wanted to run after you, fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness, even if he felt like he didn’t deserve it, he would spend the rest of his days groveling if it came to it. But he knew you needed space.  

His inner struggle was interrupted by a hand being clapped down on his shoulder.

“Trouble in paradise?” he could smack Vanth’s smirk right off his face.

After having harvested the dragon for its meat (and one lucky tusken finding an incredibly large pearl in its guts) it was time for you to leave and go back to Mos Pelgo where you would be staying until morning (“Only someone with a deathwish crosses the Dune Sea at night, Din.” you had told him). He approached you oh so slowly as if you were a scared wild animal that would flee the moment he spoke too loud or too fast.

“Are you ready to go?”

You barely looked at him, the only indication you even heard him was a slight tilt of your head. Was that how most people felt when talking to him?

When you didn’t answer, he sighed. Sensing the overall discomfort, Vanth chimed in from where he was tidying his speeder (if you could even call the engine of a podracer that).

“You could ride with me.” he said, taking a look at Mando, but quickly turned to address you again “If you want.”

That didn’t sit right with Din. He wanted you to ride with him, so he could know you were safe. So he could keep you safe. But when you nodded, he could only sigh as he watched you climb behind Vanth and speed off. A sad coo sounded from the rucksack strapped to the back of his speeder, as the baby’s ears sagged pitifully.

“I know, kid.” he addressed the kid, who was confusedly staring at him “I kriffed up.”

Holding onto Vanth during the ride back proved to be nearly impossible. Ugly blisters had started forming on the angry red skin of your palms, making them really sensitive to the touch. The only solution you found was locking your wrists onto one another circled around Cobb’s waist, resulting in him having to ride very slowly so you wouldn’t get catapulted off the speeder.

The slower pace was quite a nice change from the usual deafening engine roar as you could actually hear yourself think for once. After riding for a few miles Vanth’s voice broke you out of your trance.

“I get that you care about him.”

You knew exactly who he was talking about.

“I do.” you sighed “What are you getting at, Vanth?”

A beat of silence followed before he spoke up again.

“He cares about you too, you know?”

You blinked once, twice before his words finally registered and you looked down at your lap. Only a couple of moments later you found the strength to answer.

“I know.” a bitter laugh escaped past your lips before you could stop it “That’s the whole problem, isn’t it?.”

“Come again?”

A sharp warm sting burned in your eyes but you refused to let the tears brimming in them spill over.

“He cares about me and the kid. A lot. But he doesn’t seem to care about himself in the slightest!” you protested frustrated “What does he think would happen to us if he’s gone? I would get stranded on this Maker forsaken planet, with no credits and a green magic baby to take care of!” 

He stayed silent for a second before speaking up softly.

“I don’t think those are the real reasons you are so upset over this.”

You swallowed your tears some more.

“How does he think it would feel if he… how I would feel if he did…”

You couldn’t say it. Die your brain filled in for you. Din’s had multiple close calls, more than any person should have to go through in their entire lifetime. You understood that his job came with its fair share of dangerous situations, and had even been there to witness some of them. But he didn’t need to jump headfirst into it like he did today. He didn’t get out of the way, even when the dragon was charging right at him. There would certainly be another shot at killing the beast, there would be another option, but he didn’t get out of the way. He was ready to die. And it wasn’t the first time. Back in Nevarro he was ready to sacrifice himself so the lot of you could escape through the tunnels. That had absolutely broken your heart, even if you hadn’t known him for long. You had never wanted to feel like that again. 

How could he possibly think you would be okay if he was gone? You finally had something good, the closest thing to a little family after so long on your own-

And then it hit you. Din wasn’t being reckless just for the sake of it; when he was originally traveling alone he would just do whatever it took to finish the job as quickly as possible to just get it over with and be done with it. He was so used to traveling on his own, to being alone, that he often forgot that there were people who cared about him now. Maker, you felt so stupid; while you originally meant it as an angry insult, you quickly realized that he indeed did not think how you would feel if he died.

A deep feeling of shame started crawling up your chest and constricting your throat. Feeling childish for your outburst and angry at yourself for not seeing it sooner, while still feeling upset over thinking he was gone for good this time. You overreacted, you told yourself, and guilt was threatening to consume you whole. How were you going to face Din again? He probably thought you were just a pathetic, whining child, exactly how you felt right now. The pain on your hands didn’t feel so bad now with the way your heart was clenching painfully tight on your chest.

So absorbed in your own spiraling guilt you didn’t realize Cobb had already parked the speeder in front of the cantina back in town. Swinging a leg over the side of the vehicle, he hopped off but before walking away he gently grabbed your wrists, wary of your injured hands.

“He just did what he did to protect us. To protect you.”

And that was the nail on the coffing of your shame and guilt. The tears you were so desperately trying to hold back started cascading down your cheeks, a sob lodged in your lungs. Getting out of the speeder as fast as you could without toppling over in the sand you quickly ran inside the cantina and up the stairs towards the small room you were sharing with Din. In your haste to get to your room and under the covers you didn't even notice the black visor of a helmet staring your way from the bar.  

Finally in the safety of your shared room you leaned heavily back against the door at last acknowledging the turmoil of emotions swimming in your head and in your heart. While finally letting yourself cry freely, you couldn’t give in completely to the sobs that wanted so desperately to fly up your throat as anyone could hear it from downstairs. Instead, you felt yourself slide against the door and onto the ground, shoulders shaking and head tucked between your bent knees. 

After what felt like hours you heard a hesitant, almost silent knock on the door you're still slumped against. Your head was pounding from holding back sobs and you didn’t feel like speaking to anyone but that would be just downright rude. Getting up and swiping across your cheeks to get rid of the evidence of your despair, even though your tears had already dried, you opened the door, instantly regretting it.

Mando’s helmet was unreadable as he stared at you, his visor giving nothing away. Opening the door wider and stepping back into the room you allowed him in, but you kept your back to him. You heard the door close softly behind him and his boots coming further into the room, followed by a shuffling sound, as if he was going through his things. Or maybe he was going through your things. Oh, Maker, was he packing your stuff? Was he going to kick you out? Would he really-

“Let me look at your hands.” his stern yet soft voice cut through your inner rambling. Out of all the things he could have said, that was the last one you were expecting, prompting you to turn your body sideways and glance at him out of the corner of your eyes.

“What?”

“Let me take a look at your hands, Cyar’ika.” turning fully towards him you caught a glimpse of a medkit clutched in his hands and a wave of relief washed over you. Nodding, you sat at the edge of the bed and waited for him to start assessing your injuries. He knelt down in front of you, gingerly grabbing your hands, holding them in his own, palms facing up. A small hiss escaped from his modulator as he pulled out a bottle of bacta spray to apply over the blisters.

He was handling you with such care that it made you feel guilty all over again. You couldn’t look him in the visor, choosing instead to keep your gaze fixed on his gloved hands. The cooling sensation of the bacta was wonderful against your palms, but did nothing to soothe the ache in your heart. He was being so gentle, why was he being gentle?

Din kept working on your hands, hoping to start fixing some of his faults. A sudden whimper made his head snap up so quickly it almost gave him a whiplash. 

“I’m sorry.” you whispered. Although you wouldn’t look directly at him, he could see the trail of crystalline tears falling down your cheeks. “I’m sorry, Din, I’m so sorry!” he could hear the desperation in your voice.

“What for, Cyar’ika?” he asked in the gentlest voice he could muster, the one he often used when talking to the kid. 

“I-I was so rude to you a-and-'' your hiccups cut right through him, as he realized you blamed yourself for whatever your mind had conjured.

“No, Cyar’ika, no.” he shook his head and gently brought your hands close to his chest, almost tucked under his chin “You have nothing to apologize for.”

“B-but-”

“No buts. You didn’t do anything wrong.” oh how he wished he could kiss each and every one of your knuckles right now “If anything I should be the one apologizing, I was the one who made you worry.”

His words brought a small smile to your tired face. He stood up and brought your trembling frame into his arms, your face tucked safely into the beskar of his breastplate as you finally allowed yourself to fully cry.

“I just-” you sobbed before whispering the next sentence, which promptly broke his heart in a million tiny pieces “I don’t want to lose you.”

He shook his head. 

“You won’t” he whispered back “I promise. Ni ceta, Cyar’ika. Ni ceta.” he felt like he could cry as well.

Din laid his head on top of yours, gently whispering “I’m sorry.” over and over. 

As you slowly calmed down, you nuzzled further into his arms. Thinking with a clearer head made you realize that, while dangerous situations like the one you faced today would continue to happen, he would always come back to you, and you would always find a safe place in his arms at the end of the day. Now he had something worth coming home to.

Bonus: *gasp* “Where’s the kid?” “With Vanth at the bar.” *stare* *sigh* “Which thinking about it now doesn’t sound like a great idea at all.” *giggle*

[weirdthinkingdragon]

Warnings- mentioned abuse (not by yandere), injuries, threats, murder, yandere, protectiveness?, nearly dying, term "mutt" used for reader.

This got out of hand lol. (Also not proofread)

If someone knows the audios I've listened to, hopefully this idea is okay.

Due to something I listened to, I'm now thinking of a hate-turned-to-yandere hunter with a werewolf reader.

An extremely rocky start meeting where the hunter finds the reader alone and traps them, threatening to kill them, but somehow gets prompted to tell their story. The hunter had a family that was killed by werewolves, child taken, and hunter poisoned and slowly dying.

You were heavily abused by the pack before going on the run, so honestly his death threats/promise didn't affect you. You offered to help, which he was very begrudging but eventually accepted.

Days pass as trying to get a lead where his child is, and he slightly grows to like you and learns more of what you were put through.

You both finally get a lead, but he's unable to continue on, rushing against the clock to make sure his child is safe. He even gives you his gun with very potent bullets to werewolves.

You get there and manage to take down most, but there were more than you thought. You had to fight physically, getting too many deep wounds but still pushing on. You were NOT going to let a child go through what you did.

You find a simple 4-year-old child terrified out of their mind locked in a room. Luckily they don't have anything besides a few bruises.

You're against the clock with your injuries, the hunter dying from poison, and the possibility of more werewolves coming. You kneel in front of her, lowering your voice to be more calming for the child. "Hey... I heard about you from your dad. I know where he is, and he sent me to save you. I'm..." Well, not exactly friends. But that little lie won't hurt right now.

"A friend of his. I'm not like these bad people, I promise. Please, let me take you to your da-"

She latches onto you, sobbing uncontrollably. Understandably so.

You pick her up and decide one final thing. Find where they have the lab and destroy everything to make sure no one can get poisoned again. And hopefully a cure.

You manage to find it, and a book even showing the cure in case they accidentally got the stuff on themselves. A syringe filled with the right fluid. You swipe it after a thorough read through of the book (and also bring the book) and quickly get to the car.

You speed back to the hunter's house, and the child bolts into the house before you can even get to her door.

The syringe is still intact as you bolt in too, not caring about your potentially deadly injuries, even to a werewolf.

Entering his room, the child is already hugging him. He looks sickly pale and on death's door. Some blood spots on his blanket. He's trying so hard to lift his body to hold them.

Blood drips from your forehead onto your face, but you're more worried about the hunter.

He coughs again so hard that it's surprising a lung didn't come out. But some blood did, worrying his daughter.

Shit. He needs the injection, NOW. you raise it to his view, and with his little strength he gives you a hard glare riddled with betrayal.

"It's a cure. Found it there when finding the lab to destroy to make sure it won't be used by others. What do you got to lose? If you reject you won't make it. We both know it." You're not going to sugarcoat it for him.

He grows a face of resignment.

"I'll still be here until you wake. I won't abandon you or your child at this moment."

"You... stubborn... *cough* mutt."

You roll your eyes and inject him. He passes out almost instantly. You desperately hope it works.

The child yells for her dad. "It's okay. He's just really sick. He's going to be sleeping for a while."

------

And for a while he has been. It's been 2 whole days. You constantly check to make sure he's breathing. It's gotten more even, which is a great sign. Meanwhile several of your deep, still-bleeding wounds have gotten infected. All the wolfsbane inside his house and outside severely stunt your werewolf abilities from being able to heal. Not to mention you're constantly feeling sick and have a serious migraine.

But you refuse to leave the house even when the child falls asleep. You need to be at the house when the hunter awakens.

In speaking of waking up, you hear familiar footsteps walk towards the child's room you're laying on the floor right outside of. Not comfortable for your human form, but again, you refuse the child to have to go through more if there are still remaining werewolves.

Theu stop in front of you, making you look up at him, locking eyes. A wave of different emotions flash through his eyes. "Fuck, it really wasn't a dream."

You feel almost too tired to respond. You start to wonder if just breathing around the wolfsbane too long is going to kill you. Probably if your wounds don't first.

You manage to lift yourself up off the floor. "Unfortunately."

His eyes scan your body, several of which are bleeding through bandages again you wrapped around your torso. Flash of worry shows on his face.

"It's preventing you from healing this badly?" You just nod. "But since you're awake and better now, I'll be off. Sorry for using your medical supplies."

He remains silent for a moment. "It's fine. How long was I out?"

You look at the clock. "Almost three days."

"Three days!? And you're still bleeding!??" Your head throbs at his shout, making you put your hands on it. "Some are infected, but it's fine. See your daughter." He doesn't have to be told twice and bolts into the room. His shout seems to have woken her up. Her seeing him makes her yell for him and hug him again.

You feel dizzy... their voices start to muffle. You know what's you happening and you have to get away. The child shouldn't have to see you die.

You trudge towards the door, open and close it.

Your body drops too close to the house. The nearby wolfsbane not even the height of your body away burning your nose and lungs. You can't move farther. Everything sounds deep underwater. You accept what's happening.

"Mutt!!!" The very muffled voice of the hunter yells, slamming open the door and coming outside. It isn't angry or sounding demeaning as before. He crouches down in front of you. His worry overtaking everything.

How funny. The hunter has grown soft for the hunted. A wry smile comes to your face.

"No! You can't die now! I have- I owe you so much. Too fucking much for you to give in on me now!"

Your vision fades as sleep overcomes you.

------

You're warm. The first thing feeling a blanket wrapped around your body, a pillow under your head, and something soft under you. Your head hurts, but there's the fading smell of wolfsbane around you, reminding you of what happened.

You should be dead, so why is there still a smell of-

"Glad you're back, mutt." A hand you least expected to ever touch you pats your forehead.

You open your eyes to look at him with surprise. That's it. You're dead. There's no way...

"I made sure to move all the wolfsbane a bit farther from the house after dragging you as far away as possible for a while. I wasn't going to just let you die after all you've done for me and my little girl."

You're thankful, but it's weird hearing him say these things when he wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in your head just a week ago.

"And as a thanks, I..." He sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair. "I want you to live with me and my little girl."

Is he nuts? That poison must have affected his brain. "Thanks, but I'll have to pass. It's still rather uncomfortable being around a hunter, you know?"

His body is rather close, a hand still on your head. "I'm not really giving you a choice. You've been out for a few days yourself, and there have been numerous more werewolves running around. I've surprisingly gotten in contact with other hunters who came here tailing them. I'm not going to stand by and let you or my daughter get hurt again. The others are still around, and I've given strict order that you're off limits for being killed. So you have to stay around me."

Yep, he's lost his mind. "You can't be serious. There's no way they'll listen-"

"I warned them I have no problem putting a bullet through their heads if I even so see them aim a weapon at you. That's why you're only safe with my daughter and I. Which my daughter has also grown fond of you."

I go to sit up, but get pushed down by his hand that still hasn't left your head. Your body still too weak to fight him. "You better listen. I have no problem putting silver on you if I have to, mutt." A warning tone, yet he sounded like he's pained thinking of having to do so. He goes off in thought for a moment while I start to panic.

"You know what? I think I need something better of a name for you. How about?..." He leans really close to my ear. "Dear?"

He grabs my hand before I can weakly slap him away. This is so wrong! His wife was even killed by my kind, and he thinks of this!? "You’re... crazy! Your wife-"

His gaze darkens. "She's already dead. Has been for quite some time already. I've had time to mourn her. Now, I need someone else to be with my daughter and I. My only acceptance will be you, whether you like it or not, dear."

----------------------------

I might delete this. Too tired to think critically on if this is okay posting considering the first part and idea was from an asmr series. Maybe I'll reblog link to it or something. Couldn't find the script author though to tell for sure :-/

[xx-blueboy-xx]

Day Two: Pumpkin Patch | Suptober 2023

CW: None!

Words: 1,233 

“Dude…this is for literal children.” an exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he stood beneath the warm, October sun. He was standing in the last place one would expect to find a hunter during this time of year. Sam was standing in the middle of a pumpkin patch, while an archangel was kneeling down beside one knocking against the side. As if listening to it to see if it would be good for carving. He found it ridiculous, but couldn’t help the smile tugging on his lips. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes, though they were mostly hidden behind the dark sunglasses he was sporting. “I already offered to turn you into a child if that would make you feel more comfortable, but you said no.” 

“It’s just -” Sam shakes his head and waves a hand around, gesturing to all the young children around them being led through the path by doting parents. A few older kids were walking around on their own in small groups. Others were daring the corn maze, and he could see a ‘haunted’ hayride in the distance.

 “You know how I feel about Halloween. And,” he crosses his arms over his chest, his brows furrowed. “You tricked me. You said this was the case.” 

Gabriel grins at him, seeming to have chosen a pumpkin, and the hunter was grateful. They had spent the last thirty minutes here, the blonde absolutely determined to pick the best one. “It is a case! The hayride is haunted, duh!” 

The Winchester settled the shorter man with a classic bitch face of his and the archangel sighs deeply. He knew that this was going to be tough. That the man has all kinds of trauma tied to holidays. Why go around celebrating monsters and the supernatural, when he knew what real werewolves looked like. And they don;t have cute fluffy tails or ears. Everyday he came face to face with the things that children wore around as masks, giggling and not caring about the world. Besides, they could never afford costumes, and John never took them trick-or treating. You can’t do that when you hop from motel to motel. It hadn’t taken long for Sam’s obsession with Halloween to have been completely demolished. Much like so many other wonders of childhood. 

Gabriel sighs, his shoulders slumping. As much as he likes pushing buttons he knows when to stop, but he would try just one more thing. One last little nudge. God knows, Sam wouldn’t budge anywhere without it. “Just pick one and come carve it with me? Please?” 

Sam felt like he was rooted to the soil beneath him. Gabriel rarely ever asked for anything and a little bit of guilt ran through him, as he remembered how excited he had been to drag him here. He bit on the inside of his cheek, he could suck it up for one day. Hell, not even that, only a few hours. It wasn;t even halloween, they still have it three days before then. He runs a hand through his hair and silently wanders down the line of pumpkins. He approaches the nearest one, and he picks it up. It is decently sized and there is a strange large knot on the side - which was a little charming he had to admit. He plucked it from the stem with ease. 

He stood with it tucked beneath his arm, and found that Gabriel was grinning with triumph at him. He rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t get used to me saying yes to shit whenever you say please.” Sam comments, and the archangel shrugs. 

“Once is still more than enough bragging rights! I got the stubborn Sam WInchester to bend to my whims,” he flashes the hunter a sultry wink. “And maybe over a table for me.” 

Sam elbows the cackling archangels as his cheeks flood with a maroon blush. “Shut up!”

Gabriel’s snickers slowly die down to something more reasonable, and the pair walk in comfortable silence towards long tables. Chairs have been provided as well, along with any tools one may need to carve a pumpkin. Including a variety of stencils.  There are plenty of happy families there and a few sickly sweet couples. Sam feels a little out of place in the festivities as he places his pumpkin down on the table at a pretty empty table at the back. It seems his sudden discomfort didn’t go unnoticed, as he feels a hand gently touch his arm. It’s fleeting but ground him instantly. Sam gives a grateful smile to Gabriel. The archangel knows how nervous crowds can make him. 

He expects the man to snap his fingers and some elaborate carving to appear on the pumpkin he has set before himself, and to his shock he watches him pick up a knife. He pushes it through the top with little effort and begins to cut. Sam turns away and he begins to work on his own. He is a little confused as to what he is meant to do, so he merely mimicked Gabriel - he had never done this before, only heard other kids talk about it.  He pulled off the top watching the stringy-need of it break away from the inside, seeds falling. 

Curiously he reached out and touched the guts of the pumpkin. Instantly he pulled his hand back , a full body shudder bolting through him. Sam’s nose crinkled up and he felt like gagging, but held back the violent response. He put the top of the pumpkin down and aggressively shook both of his hands, everything simply screaming - ew. He frowned, realizing that he wasn’t going to be able to do this as he saw a few kids at the table in front of him dig their hands right in. He chews on the inside of his cheek. Another thing ruined because he couldn’t just be normal. 

Those thoughts got cut off, as he discovered gloves sitting beside his pumpkin now. His eyes darted to Gabriel. Who was already elbow deep in his pumpkin. Utterly covered in the guts he was already pulling out. Sam almost felt nauseous just thinking about it. Gabriel was humming a song underneath his breath, and didn’t say a word. Didn’t even acknowledge the hunter as he looked at him. But Sam knew he made these, as he slid them on. He puts his hand back in and pulls some out, this time, without an adverse response. He felt a smile flicker across his face as he flicked it off his hand. Okay. This was kinda fun. 

They both work in pretty much silence, broken by the low humming from the archangel. As Sam begins to take fine scraping tools to the inside of his pumpkin, he glances back at Gabriel and feels his breath catch in his throat. The setting sun where it hangs low in the sky is bouncing waves of light off of Gabriel’s hair, making a false glowing halo around his head. As it catches in his gaze they are as blazing golden color, and the joy sp[read through his features - soft and genuine. That is the most breathtaking thing of all. 

He opens his mouth to say something stupid, before his mind can catch up when a pumpkin seed is flicked into the side of his head. 

“Quit thinking so much and carve, Winchester.” 

Sam decides he quite likes carving pumpkins.

[metalmonki]

Supernatural Hunting Living and Love Part 8

Dean Winchester x fem!reader

1k word count

fluff, idiots in love, friends to lovers

warnings boring filler chapter?

Note Short filler chapter. The next chapter will start seeing the slow burn come to an end!

Original / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Four weeks evaporated faster than a desert mirage. Another team of hunters had cleared out the vampire nest I'd targeted, forcing me to scramble for a new lead. My gaze darted across the laptop screen, searching for a hunt far enough from Sydney that I could just jump in my car and disappear as soon as the casts came off. Dean, meanwhile, had mastered the art of the disappearing act himself. Most days, he was a ghost in my own house, materializing only to grab intel on the next hunt before vanishing again.

Truth be told, I didn't need the Winchesters anymore. I was a functioning weapon again. They could have left the day we were discharged, but Sam, bless his heart, insisted on sticking around until I was fully healed. He'd even convinced Theresa to return to the States with them. I genuinely felt happy for her, a bittersweet ache blooming in my chest. It stung that Sam, despite the grim realities of our work, could find solace in companionship, while Dean and I seemed perpetually adrift in a sea of loneliness.

The tension between the brothers simmered just beneath the surface, erupting into low-grade hostility during their late-night conversations. I tried my best to tune them out, but the sound of my own name being tossed around like a grenade always snagged my attention.

The last week was a blur of activity. Sam spent his days drowning Theresa in paperwork for her move, while Dean fussed over his beloved Impala, babbling about some shady contact who could "sneak her" past customs. I, on the other hand, was a silent observer, counting down the minutes until I was free. My escape plan was already hatched. Despite promising Sam I'd take it easy, my duffel bag sat fat and expectant in the closet, crammed with everything I needed to hit the road running.

Finally, the day arrived. The Winchesters and I piled into the car, a strange, tense silence hanging heavy in the air. Dean, still grumbling about his "baby" being in the hands of strangers, insisted he could feel the difference between his car and mine. Sam and I exchanged tolerant smiles, knowing it was pure delusion.

The hospital visit was a repeat of the last one, only this time, a sliver of hope flickered in my chest. The x-rays seemed to confirm it. The doctor, a man with a perpetually weary smile, announced, "Looks like we can ditch the dead weight."

"This one first," I declared, holding up my arm, the itch beneath the cast a maddening fire. "It's driving me insane."

The doctor chuckled. "That'll be the built-up…evidence of your resilience." He set to work with a saw, and the moment my arm was free, I cradled it close, both rubbing and scratching with fervor. The stench that hit me was ripe and metallic, like a forgotten gym bag. My skin, exposed for the first time in weeks, was a stark contrast of shades - a sickly brown under the cast giving way to the healthy pale of my upper arm. The doctor, unfazed, explained the science behind the offensive odor – trapped sweat and bacteria. Charming.

As quickly as they came off, the casts were relegated to the dustbin of history. Relief washed over me, mingling with a raw, exhilarating anticipation. Back in the car, the weight of the situation settled on my shoulders. A lump formed in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Tonight, when the Winchesters were safely on their flight, I'd be gone. Johnny, a fellow hunter with a nose for trouble, had sent me a juicy case on the other side of the country. People were vanishing along a desolate stretch of highway in Western Australia, all last seen at the same gas station. Humans? Or something more sinister? Johnny had arranged for me to meet a local hunter to investigate.

"Earth to Y/N," Dean's voice broke through my thoughts. "You zoning out on us, or are you ditching us at the airport?"

"Relax, your chariot awaits," I offered a tight smile.

"Seriously, what's got you lost in thought?" Sam asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Just contemplating the best way to break something and convince you two to stick around a bit longer," I deadpanned, then burst out laughing.

The joke landed with a thud. Dean muttered something about me being a "psycho," and slammed on the gas, eager to get the goodbyes over with.

At Theresa's place, a "for sale" sign sat like a grim sentinel in the yard. She wore a bittersweet smile, a reflection of my own conflicted emotions. We shared a hug, her goodbye a mix of excitement and sadness. As they disappeared into the bustle of the airport, I lingered for a moment, watching them go. Then, with a deep breath, I climbed back into the car. The airport shrunk in the rearview mirror, replaced by the endless ribbon of highway stretching before me. The ache in my chest sharpened – a potent cocktail of grief for the life I couldn't have and the thrill of the hunt that pulsed through my veins.

The drive was a blur. Every passing mile chipped away at the lingering vestiges of the Winchesters. The radio, usually a source of unwelcome distraction, remained silent. My thoughts were consumed by the case file Johnny had sent. The disappearances in Western Australia were unsettling. People, mostly lone travelers – men and women – vanished without a trace, their last known stop a deserted gas station along a desolate stretch of highway.

Johnny, ever the pragmatist, suspected foul play – a human trafficking ring or a deranged serial killer. But a sliver of doubt lingered in my mind. The isolation of the location, the pattern of disappearances… it all felt uncomfortably supernatural.

The local hunter Johnny had arranged for me to meet was a woman named Maya, someone with a reputation for handling the strange and unsettling. Her contact information was a single cryptic sentence: "Look for the blue ute with the bumper sticker that reads 'Honk if You've Seen Chupacabra.'"

A wry smile touched my lips. This was going to be interesting. The promise of a new hunt, a chance to unravel a mystery, fueled me forward. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the deserted highway, I pushed on, the ache in my chest replaced by a steely determination. The Winchesters were a fading memory, a chapter closed. The hunt was on.