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thisonehere · 2 months

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The Lin Kuei Boys finds out you were a woman

A/n: You were disguised as a man and they knew nothing until your true gender was revealed in some way or another. This is a headcanon version of the fic I recently mentioned in a poll, still working on that, just thought to do this because I thought it would be fun.

C/w: Mulan rip-off, afab reader, Bi-Han being Bi-Han

Bi-Han

He holds you in very high regard. You were one of his most seasoned warriors. You impressed him with your skill and ferocity in wielding a sword, shooting bows and arrows, and your tenacity in hand-to-hand combat.

He hadn't always respected you though. When you first came to him, he saw you as a sickly little boy who no would doubt die before you even entered a training ground.

But you surprised him, you were much stronger, faster, and vicious than you appeared. Impressed, Bi-Han took you under his wing and taught you everything he knew.

You made Bi-Han proud with every victory you had. Though most of the time he had a stern frown on his face most of the time, it was noticeable that Bi-Han had a smile on his whenever he watched you train. He even laughed to himself when you and him would spar. Finally, he has found a worthy warrior to welcome into his inner circle.

Whenever you had meetings, he was sure to sit you close to him with Kuai, Sektor, and Cyrax. He would even try to replace poor Tomas with you. But, much to his surprise, you declined. You didn't hesitate to argue and push back with Bi-Han whenever the situation arose. And Bi-Han liked it, you have the spine to talk back and stand up to him. Though it is stupid to stand against him, he appreciated the gall enough.

He notices how often you hide your body and even your face with masks and baggy clothes. He of course found it strange, but he was willing to look past it. He has seen your face and he found it weird how...womanly you sometimes looked. He also found it weird how he was attracted he was to you...but, once again, he ignored it.

When it is revealed

...

WHAT!?!?!?!

Impossible. It can't be. You...You're a woman?!?!

Bi-han's brain is frazzled by all this news. He doesn't know what to think. All those times he spared with you, argued with you, watched you fight...you were a woman, you could've gotten hurt. A wave of confusion and strange anger encompasses him after this.

He feels...emasculated by you. Every time he lost to you, he lost to a woman! He is the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei and he was brought low by you, it wounds his fragile ego.

Things change considerably after that. Where once he saw you as steel and mighty, now he views you as glass and fragile. Whenever you asked to spar he declined, he even would try to shut you down if you tried to fight with any other of his men. He wouldn't send you on missions, but he would begrudgingly concede because Kuai would insist that you'd come.

He suddenly views you as weak and constantly at risk of dying, even though you have proven that you are just as good as any of his other men.

He would always berate his men and wouldn't hesitate to be rough with them, but with you, he was very gentle, almost respectful. Whenever you entered the room he would rise from his chair if he was sitting, even going so far as offering his set to you. He would be strangely polite to you, which just felt wrong for him to act that way.

He couldn't deny anymore that he was attracted to you. Whenever he held meetings you felt his eyes linger on you. Whenever he is alone, images of you run through his mind. You're all he can think about, he has become obsessed. He can't take it anymore, he has to have you. This makes sense, doesn't it? Surely, a strong woman like you belongs with a strong man like him.

He doesn't straight away reveal his intentions. Instead, he teases and suggests such ideas to you. He gets angry when you don't seem interested, or worse, that you don't notice. And unfortunately for him, you refuse. Things get rough between you two, the tension is sometimes so thick you could cut it with a knife. Bi-han still looks at you with desire in his, and you ignore him.

Kuai Liang

You and Kuai had a very close relationship. You would spar together almost all the time, and you'd hang out in a normal way too. Kuai was a much easier man to be around compared to Bi-Han.

When you first came to the Lin Kuei, Bi-Han almost immediately turned you away. You would have been sent away in shame, had not Kuai Liang intervened. He spoke on your behalf and convinced his brother to let you stay. And even he was surprised when you proved to be an exceptional warrior.

You make him proud to call you "friend". He loved watching how you fight, it's almost like you're dancing. He beams in pride at every victory you take in Kombat. He struggles to fight off a smile whenever Bi-han acknowledges you with respect.

Kuai loves you greatly, he considers you a brother like he does Tomas. But he will admit, there are some parts of you that he finds weird. Such as how you always were sure to wear clothes that were baggy and didn't show the shape of your body, or how your voice sounded a tad bit weird, like you were trying to make it sound deeper than it truly was. Nonetheless, he respected you and your choices.

He can't lie, Kuai does feel some strange attraction to you. He doesn't know why, it feels so strange to feel this way, especially towards you. He doesn't say anything about this to you or anyone else, such feelings should be suppressed and ignored. Besides, you his closest friends and greatest warriors, why would he ever want to change things with you and jeopardise your relationship?

When it is revealed

Oh...Well, that's a surprise.

Kuai is taken by surprise by this. He never would've anticipated who you truly were. Unlike Bi-han, he isn't upset because you're a woman, he's upset because he feels a little betrayed. The person he thought he knew may not be who they say they are. His mind races, who are you truly? Are you the same person he grew to love and call a friend, or was that an act so you could fit in?

Kuai has always been respectful to you, and that doesn't change after you are revealed to be a woman. He still thinks of you highly, though his view of you is shaken slightly. He still treats you like an equal and like family. He hopes that you, though it might have been fake, keep your close bond and stay friends.

Kuai notices Bi-Han's sudden treatment towards you and often finds himself arguing with him on your behalf. He refuses to sit aside and watch his brother treat him this way. Kuai makes an effort to treat you the same as when he thought you were a man

He does have thoughts about you, many thoughts about you. The feelings he has for you seem to grow every day. He wants to say something to you, express how he feels. But he knows this could ruin your relationship, he also doesn't want to treat you differently, so he continues to smile to your face and treat you with respect and desire you in private. He watches you train, awed by your greatness. "You fight well, for a...uh...n-nevermind." He says, embarrassed and instantly regretting his words.

Tomas

Tomas? You two are inseparable. Though Kuai always tried, Tomas has always felt like an outsider. Bi-Han didn't help matters with his constant berating.

So he is so happy when you come. With you, he feels a close bond. You're both outsiders, no Lin Kuei blood in your veins. But you form some sort of "brotherhood" of your own.

With you, Tomas feels fully able to express how he feels with fear of being judged like he is with his adoptive family. You don't mock his shyness, you embrace it and make him feel special.

He deeply appreciates you don't hesitate to defend him whenever Bi-Han even thinks about bullying him. You're protective of him, it makes him feel so safe and loved. You and Kuai mean more to him than you could even know.

You're such an amazing warrior, so strong, so brave. Tomas... loves you. It feels strange for him to feel this way about another man but he does and he doesn't hate it. He ha ya grown so attached to you that he can't imagine a single thing coming between you.

After it is revealed.

Oh, my Gods! You're a...this is so embarrassing...

Tomas can't help but feel panicked and embarrassed. After all that time you and he have spent together, he has said some things, and done some things that he would be too shy to ever do with anyone else but you. he thought he knew you, but now he's not sure if he even knows a single thing about you.

He feels cheeks flush with abashment whenever he sees you. After all, you have done and said with each other, he worries about what you might truly think of him. Are you still friends?

Hates the way he now views you so differently. You're a woman, yes, but that doesn't mean you deserve to be treated differently. For some time, he is awkward and distant around you, scared that he'll make a wrong move and embarrass himself in front of you.

But you act no differently than when he thought you were a man. You still fought with strength and ferocity, you don't back down whenever someone like Bi-Han attempts to put you or him down, and you still have that glorious fire in your eyes. The fire that Tomas loved so much.

So things go back to normal between you two. Well...he still has a crush on you. But what's new? As long as he could stay by your side and call you "friend", that's all that matters to him.

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truly-neutral-art · 5 days

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Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt.1 | Pt.3

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is.

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow.

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat.

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine.

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes.

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both.

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge.

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell.

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted.

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him.

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other.

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull.

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk.

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs.

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset.

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move.

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked.

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score.

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back.

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close.

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily.

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact.

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair.

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.”

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted.

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down.

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck.

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible.

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

#dinluke #star wars #luke skywalker #din djarin #art #dinluke fanart #fanfic #fanfiction #pacific rim au #dinluke au #tru's dinluke pacific rim au

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lunarobyn22 · 3 months

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Here's the fic for those of you who want to read it on Tumblr instead of AO3! (I'm tired so this is my peace offering in place of today's Faebruary post 🙃) Check out @cloudninetonine 's "A Player's Aid" au, it'll give context for this!

Legend Gets What (He Thought) He Wanted

tags/warnings:

Threats of Violence, no y/n, Reader-Insert, Mention of making murder look like suicide, no one actually wants to die so don't worry, The others are there briefly, reader gender not specified, Kinda death threats but not exactly, Legend Needs a Hug, Reader Also Needs a Hug, They both get one tho don't worry, Resolved ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Legend is convinced that modern!reader is a traitor and a danger to the chain. He wants to get rid of the threat...Reader just really wanted to use the bathroom, but they somehow end up at sword point.

You all sat by the campfire after yet another long day of long walks punctuated by not long breaks and long fights. You were exhausted, from both the physical toll taken by the day as well as from dealing with Legend’s near constant attempts to make everyone hate you. Heck, you were almost starting to hate yourself because of him. You had to forcibly remind yourself that he’s likely only lashing out because your knowledge of everyone’s adventures probably made him feel vulnerable. You yawned and turned your focus to other things.

Your mind relaxed as you looked around. Your head was leaned to the right on Wild’s shoulder, and Hyrule sat curled up in front of you with his head in your lap. Wind had finally tired of regaling the chain with yet another tall tale, and thus had retired to intently watching Sky as he worked on a new carving. Twilight, Time, and Warriors were conversing in a relaxed manner, laughing at stories of Time’s shenanigans in the War of Eras as “Mask.” They told some embarrassing stories, and Time held a near perpetual blush in his ears and a fake annoyed expression thinly veiling his amusement. Four was quietly polishing his various weapons, making sure they were well-maintained for any future skirmishes. And finally, there was the chain’s resident salt shaker, the Veteran. Legend sat a few feet to your left, not-so-subtly eyeing you with jealousy and what you might label “loathing,” probably because Hyrule had chosen you as his pillow instead of his predecessor. He pretended to sort through his myriad of magical jewelry, but you knew better. You also knew better than to call him out at the moment.

Everyone (mostly) was at peace, full from a good supper provided by Wild, happy from the stories Wind had told, and now content to do as they pleased until it was time for the first watch to start. By your guess, each of the three watches lasted three hours, 9 PM - 12 AM, 12 AM - 3 AM, and 3AM - 6 AM, or just after sunrise, depending on the season. It was about 8:30, and your eyes had been drooping for an hour already. You let your mind wander as you stared into the fire, pondering where the tips of the flames disappeared to as they peaked and vanished, dipping back to the firewood just to jump up once more a second later.

All too soon Wild was nudging you and Rulie back to your own bedrolls as Sky set up for his watch period. You hazily recalled meaning to clean the mud and blood off your shoes as you took them off, but decided to just do it in the morning before you all set off again. It’s not like the stains were going anywhere while you slept. You were out almost as soon as you pulled up your blanket to your chin. You didn’t even hear Wild’s small chuckle as he tucked you in before he walked away to his own sleeping spot.

Your faint dreams of red eyes haunting the dark corners of endless mazes were interrupted by a twig snapping by your face. You inhaled sharply as your eyes flew open to assess the situation, but relaxed once you saw that it was just Sky going to wake Legend up for his shift on watch. He glanced down to you and offered a sleepy smile of apology, which you returned in kind, before nuzzling deeper into your pillow (which was unfortunately rather thin and small, but you figured that even if you had brought a full-size memory foam pillow from home, it wouldn’t stand a chance of fitting into your bag, no matter how enhanced it might be).

You faintly heard the Vet bemoan his fate as second watchman before his blanket rustled and he walked to the fire. You’re pretty sure he intentionally stepped on the same twig as Sky had when he passed by you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a flinch. Through half-lidded eyes you could vaguely see the grouch circle the camp before sitting on a log before the fire and facing the woods that surrounded your camp. He was even more grumpy tonight, because not only was he designated for the worst shift ever, but he didn’t even have a choice as Time forced it upon him due to a particularly scathing remark he’d made towards you earlier in the day.

You tried not to focus on his insults and apparent hatred, you really did, but recently it was getting harder to ignore. His questioning of Hyrule’s sudden loyalty to you turned to questioning everyone’s desire to not kick you out or abandon you to the next monster camp they found. He seemed convinced you were either an evil witch who forced Hyrule and Wild to love you, a monster disguised to destroy them, or even a direct agent of Dark Link (who you’d not-so-affectionately dubbed “Dink”) and planned to betray them all any day now. You, in turn, had stopped vehemently insisting you were harmless, and eventually resigned yourself to simply not rise to the bait of his stinging statements of distrust. You knew he’d been through a lot of pain and loss through his many journeys, but that didn’t excuse his treatment of you. Only your mother’s advice kept you somewhat sane — “bullies only prosper when you give them a reaction. If you don’t react, they have less reason to target you.” And yet, Legend’s berating only continued.

You silently huffed a sigh and turned around to lay on your other side, facing away from the fire. You didn’t really love the idea of turning your back to the one person who very clearly wanted you to cease existing, but you knew he had enough sense not to literally stab you in the back when you were both surrounded by witnesses who would decidedly not appreciate such a thing. Plus, the fire was too bright for your sleepy eyes anyway. You started a breathing exercise, prayed you’d assumed correctly about not getting murdered by your upset comrade tonight, and closed your eyes again.

——

An hour or so later you quietly groaned and sat up. Not only could you not fall asleep, but your bladder was beginning to rebel against the idea of waiting until morning to relieve yourself. The chain had made camp just a ways off from a wide yet shallow creek, and you decided that since you were already awake, you might as well go ahead and rinse your shoes off, too. That way they’d be dry in the morning and you wouldn’t have to worry about walking around in shoes that made your socks cold and wet. You shuddered at the thought and slowly stood, stretching your arms above your head and popping your back, then bending down to pick up your shoes and a bar of soap you’d bought in the town you all just passed through.

Legend spared you a calculating glance from his seat, saying nothing. You simply waved with your free hand and then signed “toilet” before walking away to take care of business. You didn’t have to look over your shoulder to know that he was staring holes into the back of your head; you could practically feel him doing so anyway. You sighed, choosing to instead focus on the foliage you passed on your walk, faintly illuminated by the fire back at camp and the dim glow from a bracelet Wild had given you. He said he’d used a brightbloom seed to make it, and you had been sure to express your gratitude. It was much easier than having to carry a torch, which was not only difficult if your hands were full, but was also very bright to your still-asleep eyes. That, and you’d almost started a forest fire last time you’d been entrusted to carry a torch when you weren’t yet fully awake (once the crisis had been averted, Legend of course claimed that you had done it on purpose, but you were so tired that you just gave him a deadpan stare with a raised eyebrow and plopped back onto your bedroll to resume sleeping).

After answering nature’s call and washing your hands, you sat criss-cross by the creek, took off your dirtied shoes, and started splashing them in the frigid water. It was colder than you’d expected, but everything barring your hands was still warm enough, and it helped shock you to be more awake and aware. You used some more of your soap to aid your struggle against the grossness crusted onto your shoes, thankful that they were made from something like leather, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to clean once you actually got started. As you washed, you listened to the sounds of the world around you, now returned since you were no longer disrupting their peace.

A sound like cricket chirps mixed with owl coos set the backdrop for the soundscape, while the occasional breeze played with leaves and stuck them in your hair. If you listened closely enough and stopped your washing, you swore you could almost hear the life within the flowers and greenery by your feet, the very soul of the land of Hyrule, its perseverance, growth, progress and patience, all poured with a parent’s care into each and every living thing it supported, down to the smallest weed by the creek bed where you sat.

The water before you seemed to whisper, not in the way the Sheikah technology would, but more like it was a living feeling, as if it wanted to impart to you the knowledge it had picked up on its journey to this place. You had heard a story, once, that water could hold memories; that every molecule of water in the world has existed since creation, for it cannot be created or destroyed by those who need it to survive. Every single drop had a story to tell, an event it had witnessed, a place it had once called home. Perhaps some of the water burbling and giggling before you was the same way — some of it might have seen the rise and fall of entire civilizations, the existence of every single hero, princess, and villain up to that very moment — and it would continue to amass these secrets, both big and small, every detail it would pass by, and no one would ever fully decipher its stories, its warnings, its wisdom and playfulness. And even so, it would continue to exist and endure, trickling on through the ages and epochs.

You were somewhat prone to these random philosophical trains of thought, and had thus been unknowingly sitting, unmoving, almost unblinking, in the same place for the past twenty minutes. If anyone were with you, they might have thought you to be having a memory episode akin to the ones Wild sometimes had. Indeed, you were so lost in the wanderings and ramblings of your own mind that you had no idea you were being watched. You had no clue until a sound was made that caused you to spring to your feet with a gasp and reach for the dagger you’d sheathed at your hip.

Legend stood at the tree line a few feet away, posture tense and, dare you say, predatory, unsettling stare boring into your own wide, surprised eyes. “What are you waiting for? Or should I say, who are you waiting for?” You blinked away the black spots at the edges of your vision from standing up too quickly, and relaxed the hand that held your knife as your brain worked to understand the situation.

“What?” you tried to be quiet, still recovering from being shaken out of your reverie. “Why would I be waiting for someone? They’re all asleep last I checked. Ooh shoot, did I wake someone up? I’m so sor-”

“Cut the crap, [Name],” he stood up even straighter, the line of his shoulders taught with anger. “I know you’re waiting for someone to give all your collected information to. Don’t pretend you’re all so goody-goody. I’ve seen the way you ask too many questions, always looking for more details to collect, more ways you can betray us, betray them. I knew you were a snitch, and I don’t know how you bewitched them all to trust you, but they’re all too blind to see it. But I’m not. I see right through you, I have from the start.”

He had stalked closer during his speech, his voice dropping to a threatening whisper you had only ever heard in movies. His approach had caused you to back up until your still bare feet felt the water’s lapping edge. You had dropped your boots, you weren’t exactly sure where, but that was only a vague thought in the very back of your mind. Your eyebrows scrunched together as your mouth opened and closed, trying and failing to come up with a good enough response. You weren’t spying, you were trying to find answers! You came from a completely different world, of course you had questions! He of all people should understand that, and yet he still accuses you? This finally snapped your patience, and you decided to just spell it out him:

“Look, I know you hate me, but this is too far, Legend. I am not some evil being to be defeated like in your adventures, I am not planning to cause trouble for you all, and I sure as anything would never betray you guys, especially not after the trust that has been extended to me by some of you. This group took me in, saved my life, helped me learn to defend myself, protected me time and time again, and I’ve only ever tried to help you, or at the very least not get in your way. I get that I’m not some ‘chosen hero’ with crazy butt-kicking skills, I know that I’m only okay-ish at fighting, not nearly as good as any of you, and I understand that my extensive knowledge of your adventures puts you on edge, but I swear on everything that I’m not a traitor, and the main thing that I just really don’t know is why you despise me when I’ve never even given you a single reason to do so!”

Your voice had steadily increased in volume, not quite to the point of shouting, but certainly not whispering any more. He seemed a bit surprised by your willingness to defend yourself, but he hid it quickly with a scowl and what sounded almost like a growl. You noticed dully that the forest had fallen tensely quiet.

“Oh drop the act, turncoat ,” he spat, “you have never been one of us, and the only reason I didn’t drop you off a bridge yet is because Hyrule would have my hide and Wild would poison my food. But don’t mistake my inaction for acceptance or ignorance. You’re no better than any of the enemies we fight on a daily basis. You’re actually worse, because you’ve wormed your way into my group, my allies, my brothers. You think you’re something special just because you got some of them to trust you?? You’re a parasite, a threat, and tonight is all the proof I need. I knew I should’ve spoken up more from the moment you oh-so-conveniently happened to stumble into our lives. You’re going to regret ever messing with us, and Dark Link will soon know without a doubt that he cannot ever send his agents into my family without dire consequences.”

His expression twisted to a hateful snarl, showing some of his teeth in an almost animalistic display of animosity. Your face, on the other hand, was flickering through countless expressions too quickly for even you to comprehend. You knew some of what you felt, pain, sadness, anger, guilt (even though you had no reason for that one), confusion, denial, and eventually a sort of raging, spiraling emptiness that screamed inside your chest. Your breathing quickened to an almost hyperventilating speed, and your eyes grew blurry with tears you’d been suppressing for weeks. Your hurt, misty eyes locked with a pair of violet, violent, volatile ones, and you realized that he was waiting for your response. His next actions could depend solely upon your response; your very life could depend upon whatever words next left your mouth.

You had tried so hard to be friendly to the group of Links, to not aggravate Legend too awful much. You had tried to help out wherever you could, to not be a burden, to not slow them down. You tried to let the pain of rejection roll off of you like water, to not let it get under your skin. You had tried so, so hard to be one of them; but you weren’t. It was at this point you realized what he’d said without actually saying it — he was afraid . Afraid of losing the only family he had left. He’d already lost his uncle, Marin, the whole island of Koholint, and almost all the people of his Hyrule viewed him with disdain at best and outright hatred at worst. He’d had to leave Ravio and Fable back in his Hyrule, and he never knew when (if) he’d ever see them again. You realized on an even deeper level the true message behind his words — ‘you are a threat to those I love. You are dangerous. You bring pain and that is all you’ll ever do. You are not worthy of any trust, comfort, protection, or love from anyone, least of all my brothers. You would be better off never having met us, having never existed.

You would be

better off

dead.’

You had tried so hard, and yet… You had never actually brought anything to the group but problems. You thought through your interactions with them all, but all you could see is the many ways you’d caused them worry, stress, or even anger. You were another mouth to feed, another bed to pay for at inns, another liability in fights, another person to slow down for as they walked. You were a burden. No, worse: you were a danger. What if they were so busy looking out for you that they didn’t see an enemy until too late? What if you slowed them down to the point where they couldn’t get where they were going in time? What if you drained their food or rupee supplies too fast? What if you got hurt again and caused stress and tension to rise, causing fights and even divisions to break out. You were a problem. Not a traitor, no, and not intentionally endangering, but they couldn’t afford to have you around any longer. And you couldn’t just leave, you’d die within a day if Dink didn’t find and torture you, but Legend wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew for a fact that you were out of their way. Permanently. He didn’t just want you to disappear; he wanted you gone. And finally, with a sinking heart, you realized just how right he was.

At this final revelation, a tear finally did slip past your lashes down to meet your quivering chin. You felt your thoughts scatter like startled deer, your heart thundering in its cage, pounding in your ears, scaring away the life in the forest around you. And you decided. You were a danger. You had no power here.

“I - I’m so sorry , I - I never meant to drive you apart, I -” you paused to hiccup and take a breath. You knew you were breaking, your composure deteriorating, but it was too late to stop. “Legen- Link. If you truly see me as a threat, if you truly believe that I will bring nothing but harm to you, to my-your friends, if…if you think that - that I should - I should never have met you, that I should never have…existed, I…I know I can’t force you to change what you so deeply believe, I -” You gasped a little shuddering inhale, and you made your final decision, the choice that you knew would be your last. You steeled yourself, and spoke. “If you honestly believe that you would all be better off - be safer - if I was gone, if you believe I’m a threat, that I would hurt you, that I - harbor ill intent, then…” you swallowed, still taking short, stuttering breaths. Then you turned around, held your hands palm-outward and arms open to the sides, and bowed your head; you left your entire back and neck, your spine, completely exposed to the man who wanted you dead. You leveled your voice, and accepted your fate. After all, he was an experienced hero, while you were just an inexperienced nobody. He would know what he’s talking about, what would be safest and best; you wouldn’t. He was not prone to emotional decisions; you were. If that was the case, then he was right. You were a threat to your friends.

“If you truly think that I should die for the good of the group, for their safety and happiness, then…then I… I trust you to do what’s right for your family. I would never willingly hurt any of them, I never wished any of you ill but…maybe I do just bring bad luck. Maybe I truly am a curse, a threat, a liability. If that’s the case, maybe - I know I can’t just leave, since Dink is after me and I know too much so - maybe I really am better off dead.”

There was a moment of silence, and then you heard him unsheathe his sword. The back of your neck prickled with danger, but you didn’t dare look over your shoulder. You counted the seconds as they passed, and you realized you had made it to thirty and nothing had happened yet. Why the hesitation? You assumed you’d be dying by now. Perhaps…perhaps Legend feared taking the blame for your death? Causing more division within the chain? Well, you shouldn’t let that stop him if your friends’ lives and safety were at stake. You would do anything to protect them, no matter what. Legend was right, and this had to happen. He had to do this. So why hadn’t he yet? You decided to offer some support, try to speed it along. You were never one for fearing the future but you really wanted this to be over, since you could feel the dread clawing up your throat, numbing your words and preventing any cohesive thought, forcing you to stand still and hear your blood thundering through your ears.

“You could, uh, you could make it look accidental, if you want?” You suggested. “Maybe - maybe I slipped, hit my head on a rock in the creek, maybe I drowned after I fainted or something, maybe I was playing with my knife and - and accidentally hit an artery.” At this point you started to hyperventilate again, desperate, but unsure as to why. “Maybe I was surprised by an enemy, a - a stalfos! - and I was too slow,” you continued, “or - or maybe I was kidnapped, maybe I was gutted by an enemy, maybe I - I just hit my head on something, maybe I had a - a - a hidden injury,” you were nearing hysterics now, “maybe, maybe I just — maybe I did it myself? Maybe I just couldn’t go on? Maybe, maybe I, I just - what if - I,” you lost your sense of words for a moment, “I can’t, I - what about if I just - just - You don’t have to take the blame, you know? You - you could cover it up! Maybe you just were doing your final rounds at the end of your watch and just found me - m-my body, maybe -”

“[Name] are you serious?” He cut through your rambling and you guessed he thought you sounded rather impertinent. You were trying to tell him how to do his job, and you’d kept on repeating what he likely had already worked through in his own mind.

Your mouth clicked closed so quickly your teeth almost clipped your tongue. Perhaps he wanted you to die quietly. You realize you were panicking and might’ve been too loud. Oh no, what if you woke someone up? Then Legend would get caught, and you would be the cause for even more trouble for everyone, and things would get even more tense, and if they were more distracted then they’d be in more danger, then…

…

You were still alive for some reason, although if you hadn’t been breathing so heavily you would have heard someone else’s suspiciously loud breathing behind you. As it was, you continued to hold still, arms sore from being held out, but you didn’t dare move. Even you knew better than to rob a predator of his prey, especially when he is so close to the killing blow. You were no fool, you knew he’d likely planned this for a while, and you knew better than to irritate him further. You just wanted to say one more thing, one final reassurance.

“I only want what’s best for them…best for you. I don’t hate you, contrary to what you probably think. I’m so sorry for any pain I’ve caused you, I truly am…I - I only ask that you make it quick, not for my sake, but if I was too loud a second ago and it woke anyone up and they found you kil-” your breath hitched, “killing me, it — it might make things worse for you all, and the last thing I wanna do is make things harder for all of you guys, I love you all and I—”

“Just SHUT UP!” Legend’s voice crashed through your pleading, and you stopped. And through the suddenly deafening silence, you realized something. Had his voice cracked? You listened more intently. He was breathing unevenly, almost gasping, almost…no, no your soon-to-be-killer couldn’t possibly…

He inhaled deeply and hoarsely whispered, “ Why? How, how could you just, just…” And in his struggle for words you heard something you would never have considered possible.

You had offered to die, just like he wanted, and

Legend —

Link —

was crying .

The man who wanted you dead, who planned to watch the light leave your eyes, was crying.

Perhaps he was just so happy you’d stopped resisting? Or perhaps he simply disliked the idea of causing someone pain? Yes, that was likely the reason; you were still a person, after all, and you knew that the Veteran, despite his callousness, did in fact have a heart (however guarded it might be).

“…It’s ok, Link,” you whispered reassuringly, “I’ll probably hardly even feel it, and if you’re right, and I’m sure you are, then…I deserve it anyway, and…I trust you to do what’s right, because…well, you’re a hero. You’re Link. I’m just… I’m nobody , nothing, so…It’s okay…” You stopped there, you knew he didn’t want you to talk, but darn it you always had a weak spot for people who cried, and you just had to try to reassure them, even if this particular person was planning to send you to meet your Maker a bit earlier than you’d thought you would.

But…there was still no sudden pain, no sword through your chest or severing your head, no sudden hit to the skull, nor were there hands forcing your face into the water until the bubbles stopped, nor any cutting, no slitting your throat, just…quiet sobbing?

Your mind froze for a second, and you held your breath to see whether the crying was actually from you. And it wasn’t. So, you waited. What else could make Legend wait? He was a hero, right? Maybe he just needed to psych himself up? It couldn’t be easy, you figured, literally stabbing someone in the back —

OH! Maybe that was actually the problem? Maybe he wanted to be at least a little more honorable and kill you face-to-face? After all, back-stabbing has a rather negative connotation attached to it. Facing forward and watching your killer do the job wasn’t really what you’d prefer, but it’s not like you had much choice in the matter. After all, he was the one with the sword.

In order to solve this newfound problem you slowly turned around and faced your whole body towards him, eyes closed, arms still out in a sign of surrender, tense muscles still ready for whatever method he would choose to end you. Maybe it would be kind? Likely not, seeing as you were a threat to his family.

Tentatively you opened your mouth and quietly reassured him, “If you want to do it head-on and not with my back to you, that’s…cool too? I-”

“Oh goddesses,” he practically choked on the words, “you…you actually are serious…?” His voice was rough with…emotion? Confusion? But why? You were giving him what he wanted, right? You were keeping your frien- his family safe…right?

Right?

And then you cautiously cracked open your eyes a little bit, and then opened them all the way, and you lifted your gaze and actually looked at him, rather than just listening.

And you saw that he was an absolute wreck.

Rarely seen tears now freely flowed from his violet eyes, and he had to sniff to keep his nose from running too much. His chin quivered slightly and his adam’s apple bobbed as he tried to find words without openly sobbing. He dropped his sword as his posture went slack, a hand raising to cover his mouth, his watering eyes wide with disbelief and something remarkably akin to grief. Your confusion turned to concern for the man before you. Why was he crying? Was he hurt somewhere? Surely that was the case, for no one could change their mind as abruptly as he seemed to, right?

He finally whispered hoarsely, “You…do you really…you’re actually willing to just…let me kill you?” He seemed shocked at your actions, but you didn’t know why. Unless…oh gosh, had you misread the situation?? You weren’t sure how you could have, but what if you did? What if you were the one to make him cry? How awful of a person could you be?

“I — I’m sorry, I — yeah, I meant it, really. I mean, I still do, but — I-I’m sorry if I misunderstood, I really am, I just wanted what was right, and I — I just figured you’d know better than me, that you’re right, but I didn’t mean to upset you, I swear, I’m sorry for making you cry, I never wanted that, I just wanted to keep them — keep you all — safe, but if I—”

“Just…stop… please .”

And you froze. Because Legend…he’d said please . He had never said please in the entire time you’d known him, and certainly not while addressing you of all people. So, you stopped. Your arms were in pain, however, and you risked slowly lowering them so they could lose their pins and needles. He didn’t react. He just brought his fist to his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the tears. He was no longer actively crying, so you counted that as a win. You continued to look at him, confused, but not trying to talk any more. You figured he would decide what to do in a minute. Maybe, you thought, he was crying with relief that he could finally stop fighting you.

And then he finally spoke again, in a very small, very subdued, almost unbelieving voice. “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?” He seemed to hardly believe it.

No, you denied the small spark of hope trying to take root in the void of your chest. There’s no way. It’s too late. He’s going to kill me. He can’t have been wrong. I’m supposed to die, right?

He raised his eyes to meet yours once more, and it was all you could do to nod in agreement. After all, you had never tried to deceive any of them. You’d only ever endeavored to tell the truth, and you weren’t going to stop now of all times.

“You’re not…a witch?” He seemed to almost be thinking aloud, not actually talking to you anymore, but you nodded along anyway, just in case. “You’re not actually a traitor, are you?” He murmured, “You’re…goddesses, you’re not even evil, are you? An enemy would never turn their back to me, Dark Link would never surrender, but…that means you…you’re just a person…just…” Then, in an even smaller voice and with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, “You’re…just you? Was I about to — to kill — an innocent?”

And at that moment you recognized his emotion: horror.

Link was mortified, absolutely horrified that he, a hero of courage, one of Hylia’s chosen, a bearer of the triforce, savior of realms and countries, Link, was about to kill you, a person who had never actually harmed him or his brothers, someone he’d been so set on not trusting that he’d tried to twist you into something that you’d never been. You had tried so hard to protect them where you could, to ease their burdens, to not cause problems, to bond with them, to ignore his acidic hatred, and you’d been through so much pain and loss, and been targeted by Dark himself, and he still had tried to make everyone reject you. You were traumatized, hunted, injured, afraid, and he still hadn’t held back. Your questions had never been any sort of interrogation, but simply confusion. The trust you gained from the others was simply friendship, not any sort of witchcraft or manipulation.

And, with mounting terror, he finally, deeply, truly realized that he had somehow even convinced you — sweet, innocent, confused, traumatized, eager-to-help, optimistic [Name] — that you actually were the problem, that you should —

Oh goddesses, he’d convinced you that you were better off dead, that you should want to die — that you should just let him kill you. And for some heartbreaking reason, you had not only agreed, but then you’d exposed your most vulnerable points, without any sort of armor or protection, dropped your weapon, lowered your guard, closed your eyes, and told him to do what he believed was right…

You thought he was going to kill the person he should have been protecting this entire time. And you endorsed it only because of ignorant trust in someone who was supposed to be a hero.

And when he panicked, you’d tried to help him kill you .

He looked at you and saw your pain, your sadness, your survival, your resignation, your scars, your desperation to help others, he saw YOU, and not a trace of what he’d so firmly believed you to be. He was planning your death, and you’d tried to comfort him.

And Legend broke.

He did something neither of you expected; Legend, the one who had tried so hard to hate you, vaulted over the small distance between you, wrapped his arms around you, and held on so tightly he thought he might never let go. You had stiffened at first, halfway expecting a knife in your back, but when that didn’t happen you relaxed, almost dizzy with relief and swirling emotions, and you hugged him back just as fiercely. His face was on your shoulder, head bowed so that the fabric of your shirt muffled his increasingly panicked sobs and hiccups. And through those noises you could hear him apologizing relentlessly,

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, goddesses I’m so sorry, [Name] I — I’m so — so sorry, I’m sorry, I was so blind , I’m sorry, I was wrong, I was so, so, so — wrong, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and so he continued.

You finally breathed for what felt like the first time since he’d snuck up behind you. Your heart was pounding and, now that you held Legend in your arms, you could feel his heart thundering just as quickly as your own. You gently lowered the two of you to the ground, trying to comfort him even as you worked through your own dissolving panic. You held him as if he were a child, gently rocking back and forth as you tried to imbue him with a sense of safe-secure-trust-okay.

“Shhh sh sh shh,” you whispered, “it’s okay, it’s okay, you’re okay, I’m okay, shh shh shhh, it’s okay, I…

I forgive you, Link.”

At this statement he began to sob even more heavily, and your own tears soaked his tunic as surely as his did your own.

“NO! No, you shouldn’t! You — you — I almost killed you!!” He pulled back and looked at you without letting go. “I would have killed you, [Name]! You — you can’t just forgive me! I — I’m so sorry, I can’t ever explain, I — I was so sure you weren’t trustworthy, I didn’t even give you a chance, I — gosh I basically just tried to freaking kill you, and you just…you can’t just — just —” he fell into hysteric hiccups once again, allowing you to interrupt.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you don’t decide what I can and can’t do, isn’t it?” You released your hug to hold his face in both hands, using a thumb to brush his tear-stained cheeks. “I’ll admit…I was, for a moment, scared, but,” you cut off his heartbroken and shattered gasp, “I get it. I don’t excuse what you’ve done, but I do somewhat understand and I forgive you, Legend. I choose to forgive you, Link.”

…

His world stopped in that moment. He stared into your eyes, so open, brimming with tears that he had caused. You shouldn’t forgive him. He was going to murder you, literally stab you in the back, in cold blood, right outside the safety of camp where his own brothers, who trusted both him and you, slept peacefully, placing full faith in him to keep the monsters at bay. And yet here he was, more of a monster than any of their Ganons or Ganondorfs could have ever hoped to be. He was despicable.

And then you even went so far as to offer him a watery smile that tugged gently on the Sheikah scars adorning your face, the scars of what you’d endured and survived. Oh goddesses, you were trying to comfort him — him — instead of yourself. You opened your arms and offered him another hug, and he was suddenly so thankful you were alive, that you were there with him, and that he hadn’t killed you. And he finally, fully, completely collapsed, releasing the pain he’d hidden away for so long from so much betrayal, distrust, and loss, burying his face into your shoulder once more. His stuttering breaths and hiccups prevented him from speaking, from begging you to hate him back, from telling you to strike him down then and there as surely as he planned to do to you, from screaming until his voice gave out simply because of his pure loathing toward himself, toward this monster he had let himself become.

You gently nudged him back toward camp, all the while holding him and tracing pointless patterns along his back, caressing his hair and whispering forgiveness in his ears. You fell asleep trying to keep watch for him by the fire, both of you tangled up in the other’s embrace, resting in the safety of someone you loved.

You both slept soundly and without nightmares for the first time in weeks.

….

And as the two of you sat there after crying your souls out to each other, having realized how much you actually cared for one another, the sounds of the forest slowly filtered back, joining with your sobs in a beautiful melody of mourning and life, shame and forgiveness. Your rivers of tears mingled together and joined the small creek, the whispers of your pain, relief, salvation, and reconciliation joining the water’s ever-increasing library of whispered memories and silent emotions. And it would never tell a soul, for no one could know what it knew; and you would never, ever know just how happy it was to gain your streams of tears and joy instead of the rivers of your life-blood.

And if the third watchman woke to find the two most bitter of enemies curled up together asleep by the fire, tear tracks on their red-splotched faces, hair unkempt and, in your case, feet bare, and if he simply draped a blanket over you both and almost cried himself, well…who needs to know?

#linked universe x reader #linked universe fic #legend of zelda x reader #legend of zelda fic #linked universe #legend of zelda #lu #loz #fanfiction #fanfic #RobynWrites #writers on tumblr #writers on ao3 #ao3 #lu legend #the legend of zelda #legend x reader

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bjornswoman · 4 months

Text

Foe's regret I

Author's note: Hello there! Here comes this fic you chose to come. At this part I have to say that one more part has left to come from this series. Thank you for supporting me. I wasn't planning on delivering this today. I had it in store for Christmas as a gift to you all, but I couldn't keep myself from posting it, so here it is. I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did.

Pairing: Ubbe x Reader.

Genre: Mini!series, drama, angst, violence, slight romance.

Summary: Your life is about to change again, probably this time things will get better... or not.

Warnings: Violence (emotional and physical), mentions of murder (strangulation), strong language.

My enemy and me masterlist | Nemesis's wish | Enemy's cruelty | Rival's touch |

Days and nights had past but everything felt the safe inside your prison. Only this time you weren't only miserable and hopeless, but also betrayed and filthy after that disastrous of a night.

You wanted to run away from Kattegat – from Ubbe. But you knew that this wasn't even an option – not after what had happened the previous time. You wouldn't even dare to lay a foot outside the Hall without someone on your tail.

However, that wasn't the only reason behind this. Your son had a huge impact on your decision. Even if you ever found the opportunity to leave this place for good, Ragnar would hate you for taking him away from his father. A father who was Ubbe Ragnarsson – a magnificent warrior, descendant of Odin himself. The child was his first-born – his heir – you had no right to take him away from him.

On the other hand, you couldn't leave on your own. You couldn't stay away from your son – your heart wouldn't bear not to see him for a day let alone a whole life. The only meaningful thing you had in this life was your son – without him you were dead.

The thundering sound of a goblet falling startled you and forced you out of your thoughts into the atrocious reality. Around you men and women were laughing and drinking, fighting and eating, talking and dancing. It was another feast that you had to pretend to be the perfect wife. False smiles and identical words and promises were all you could see behind the masks of all those pretenders that were surrounding the Hall.

"You don't seem to enjoy yourself." Drunken, slightly hoarse voice spoke from the seat next to yours. It was a familiar one though it didn't belong to your husband – it belonged to his younger brother.

"I am afraid you are mistaken, Hvitserk." You answered and you glanced at the drunk man. Then your eyes went back at the crowd.

You weren't in mood of starting any conversation – even with Hvitserk. You wanted to stay on your seat drinking ale from your goblet until the night was off – and you prayed for it to end soon enough because you couldn't stand seeing her swinging around the Hall giggling with the guests full of your husband's child. And your husband's eyes were only on her, the love of his life – now you knew damn well that he was lying he hated you because he couldn't be with her and you were hating him more than before. More than ever.

"Well, I won't push you to talk if you don't want to, but you should know that if you ever need to spill your guts and let of steam, I'll be here." Those were the realest words you had ever heard coming from someone else – from someone who was too drunk to reconsider the words coming out of his mouth. And yet it didn't seem this way, it seemed like Hvitserk meant each one of them.

You turned your gaze on him properly this time. Maybe he was right you should speak to someone – you should take this weigh off your shoulders, but you knew that Hvitserk couldn't be the one. He was Ubbe's brother and in love with Margrethe. Torvi couldn't be that person either, she was his brother's wife – practically his family.

That resulted to you having no one for once more. You were utterly alone, but you were used to it by now.

"You know that we can't really talk, don't you?" You asked him in low tone of voice and he turned his gaze on you. Green eyes gazing right inside your shuttered soul.

Hvitserk shook his head and chuckled. You looked at him frowning in curiosity.

"Ahh, yes. I almost forgot for a moment that you are more like a bird imprisoned in a golden cage than my brother's wife." You almost smiled at the comparison he managed to make.

"I was never the second as for the first I start to think that the only thing missing is the wings." You tried to play along, but the melancholy didn't let you be as playful as Hvitserk was when he pointed out the similarity between you and a caged bird.

Hvitserk left the goblet on the table and sat properly on his seat, his eyes were only on your figure along with his attention. It was like he was totally sober for a moment.

"You mean he broke your wings the only time you dared to walk out of that cage?"

"Something like that." You smiled sadly, recalling which moment he was talking about.

"And yet you love him. Still."

You frowned. You opened your mouth to protest – to accuse him of lying, to give him one by one all the atrocious reasons that his remark couldn't be true. You almost wanted to rip the collar of your dress and show him the scars of his brother's large hands on your neck of all the time he almost strangled you. But most of all you wanted to yell at him because he dared to say such an awful and offensive thing.

"You don't need to persuade me of the opposite." He continued and grabbed his own goblet taking a long sip of his drink. "I don't know the reason behind all this horrible situation you have to live in – well, in fact, I know it – but I wish things were different between you and him. You are a good woman – you deserve a lot of things and surely this torment isn't one of them. He is a good man as well, but he is stubborn and I can say that he loves you back."

You didn't want to hear anymore. You didn't know which your reaction should be. Not because you were shocked or believed any of his words. You knew that Ubbe didn't love you – he hated you. He had even told you that he loved her that night.

Before Hvitserk could even start again talking about Ubbe's hypothetical love about you, you dumped your own goblet on the table in front of you and left your seat.

"Don't say anything else. Ubbe himself told me that he loves her." You said quickly and stormed in your chamber before Hvitserk could answer you.

You didn't need to hear anything else about Ubbe or Margrethe. In fact, you didn't even want to see them for the rest of the evening. You needed a night away from all this despair – you deserved it after everything you had been through lately.

However, your silence didn't last long because Ubbe stormed in the room more frustrated than you did a few minutes ago.

"What do you want?" You asked him angrily because of his sudden appearance in there.

"Are you out of your mind?" He yelled and kicked the table flipping it over, throwing all the decorations on the floor.

"No, you are out of your mind!" You were yelling too now. You couldn't believe at the audacity of that person. All he did was coming in and yelling at you over and over and over again. It was all a circle happening again and again the same thing and you were tired of re-living the same scene every day.

"I am not the one who caused a whole scene in front of so many people and left! What do you think you are doing?"

"Are you serious? I caused a scene? I was talking with Hvitserk! Just a civilised talking! Something you can't do apparently because all you do is yelling!" You yelled back. All you asked was for a simple night. A silent one which meant away from him and his madness. He was mad – there wasn't any other excuse behind all of his behaviour. However, you couldn't find a proper reason he was in such a state. You hadn't caused any scene in there.

"Don't bring this on me, woman!" He was very angry – you had seen him this way multiple times before and you knew what was to follow. His hands were running through his braids uncontrollably and you couldn't understand the reason he was so mad. "You are the one who humiliated me and my family!" His finger pointed out on you and you scoffed – you couldn't help it – and it enraged him more.

Within a couple of seconds one of his hands was on your throat pressing it until you had no breath in your lugs. Nothing new – just some bruises and marks that you had to hide under your clothing. Ubbe pushed you back on the wall – your back hit so hard that all the inches of your body were shaken.

"You humiliate my name and you have to get punished for it!" He growled and you looked at him as angrily as he eyed you. You weren't going to lose this time – not again. And most importantly you couldn't let him know that you were afraid. He couldn't know.

"What are you going to do that you haven't done yet? What, huh?" You challenged him, looking him in the eyes. You wouldn't back down.

A sardonic smirk formed on his face when he heard your words and his face came closer to yours. You weren't used to be this close to him. Your faces were mere inches apart and without your approval your eyes stared on his masculine features.

"I am going to take Ragnar away from you. You are going to see him again when you will act properly." His tone was normal again, but his nerves weren't. Your eyes widened and you tried to do something you hated yourself for the same moment you did it. You raised your hand and tried to hit him – to slap him on the cheek – but his hand stopped you.

After that, both of his hands were gripping you firmly and this time maybe he would make his dream coming true – he was going to strangle you to death and as he said once; nobody would suspect him.

Your eyes widened again, but this time not because of the fact that he was going to kill you this time, but because you were going to hit him. You had never done that before – never. You had thought about it plenty of times, but never did it.

You closed your eyes waiting for your death and tears rolled from your eyes – tears because you tried to hit him. He had done horrible things, but you – you weren't this beast. Images of your son were flashing before your eyes at you last moments.

But you didn't die at the end of day, because the door opened and Hvitserk along with Sigurd and Bjorn forced Ubbe away from you. They tried to help you when Ubbe was forced away from you, but you stopped them you fell on the floor coughing, trying to breathe normally again.

Bjorn and Sigurd were talking to him as Hvitserk was standing next to you trying to make sure whether you were fine or not.

"He wasn't.... going to kill me." You managed to say with clear difficulty in breathing. All pairs of eyes were following you while you were struggling to stand up.

"It didn't seem this way to me." Bjorn pointed out and you shook your head trying to convince him the thing around.

"I wouldn't kill her." Ubbe spoke finally, his burning blue eyes were only on you as your own eyes were on him. "Now leave us for a moment. We will be alright." He told them and they looked at disbelief before they walked to the door.

"We will be right outside, don't even think about it." Hvitserk warned his brother before all of them were out of the door and stayed just the two of you in the room.

Ubbe didn't try to come close to you, he stayed at his former position and neither of you talked. The atmosphere was suffocating inside the room.

"You were very lucky this time, but next time you will raise your hand on me you won't be that lucky." He warned you in much calmer tone of voice.

It was a threat – another threat.

You hated yourself for trying to hit him. He had never done it, but had done other equally awful things. You wanted to tell how sorry you felt and ask for forgiveness and you would if it was for another person. You would never leave your guard down for him again. You knew better than falling for his tricks again.

"We will see about that." You couldn't keep your mouth from saying it.

"Don't tempt me to finish what I started." Ubbe growled before he was out of the door.

"I'm sorry." You muttered when he was out of the chamber and touched your hurting neck. Tears started streaming from your eyes at the memory of you raising your hand on Ubbe.

After some hours, you un-braided your hair and put on your night-gown ready to lay on your bed, after your son was asleep. You blew out the candles and laid on your bed closing your eyes. But you didn't get to sleep, because the wooden door opened and closed. You kept your eyes shut, but your hand moved under your pillow and wrapped around your dagger's handle.

When you felt the mattress next to you moving, you turned around and pointed the dagger at the man's neck. You could recognise him under the midnight light coming from your window. You knew this person well – fortunately.

"I must confess that I wasn't expecting this." He whispered, but you didn't take the dagger away from his neck. For the first time ever, Ubbe Ragnarsson was under your mercy. That meant that you could do to him anything you liked. This was getting entertaining.

"Why are you here anyway? You should be with your wife." You reminded both of you and moved the dagger closer to the flesh of his throat.

"In case you forgot you are my wife."

"I meant your other wife."

Ubbe didn't seem to want to answer your question probably he – himself – didn't know the reason he was on your bed.

"You know that I could take this little knife of yours easily." He said and touched the tip of your blade. You smirked hoping that he couldn't see it in the dark.

"Yes, but you haven't taken it yet." You heard him chuckling and you smiled.

"No, I haven't." His voice was coming from somewhere closer than you remembered. The dagger was still pressed on his neck, but it seemed as he didn't care at all about its existence – he wasn't afraid of you and that was annoying you even more than his arrogancy.

"I could kill you and nobody could prove it was me." You recollected his own words and used them to upset it, but it had quite different effect than the one you wanted.

As an answer his hand was placed on top of yours – on top of the hand which was holding the dagger on his throat. He guided the blade closer to his flesh and you watched him thrilled as he was pressing his own skin with the sharp knife.

"Do it. Kill me. Nobody deserves to kill me more than you do. If I am to die soon, I'd prefer to be you the one holding the blade soaking in my blood. So, don't hesitate, do it – slice my neck." The smell of blood reached your nostrils and you knew that it came out of him. He had been cut by the blade, but it hadn't been deep enough to be fatal.

You pulled the knife away from Ubbe and dropped it on the stony floor. Your hands were working hard in the darkness trying to reach for his wound. You knew that he was bleeding when your hands me the something liquid streaming – his blood.

You hoped desperately that he couldn't see your face. He couldn't see how upset and worried you were for him. You didn't want him to suppose that you cared – you didn't care. You didn't care at all.

And yet you couldn't stop yourself from lighting the candles again and searching for a cloth to treat him. When you found what you were looking for, you went back to bed. You sat next to his lying form and placed the cloth in the bowl of water. Then, you placed the wet cloth on his wound and he didn't react – he didn't even flinch.

His blue eyes were focused on you trying to stop the blood streaming.

"I thought you would want to get rid of me by now." Ubbe finally spoke and you dared to glance at him for a passing moment. You thought to yourself. You thought that it would be better if he was dead. However, you couldn't picture his death. You were afraid that if you even tried, it would happen. It should have been what all you were waiting for, but it wasn't.

"I have told you, Ubbe, I've never wanted you dead." Your eyes were back on the cut on his throat. It wasn't a fatal wound and it wasn't big enough, but still you couldn't let him bleeding. Not even for some minutes. "Not even after everything that we've been through." You confessed in a soft tone of voice. In such way that you didn't want him to know about that last part. But, now, he knew.

"And yet I would kill you if I had the chance." This was a confess and it made you smile. It wasn't like you weren't afraid that he wasn't going to do it, you were sure that earlier he would have killed you if his brothers hadn't stormed in the room.

Ubbe could kill you easily, but this didn't mean that you could do this to him as well. He didn't care whether your son would grow up having a mother or not, as you did. But this didn't make you change your mind when it should have had. If you were to walk away one day, you would do this and he would be alive. Although, if that ever happened, he wouldn't let you go far enough – he would find you anywhere.

"You have the chance now." You reminded him that you were alone and your gaze met his under the slight light of the candles. You left the cloth in the bowl and placed it on the table close to your bed.

"I can't kill you right now." Ubbe said and stood up from your bed to meet you.

"Why not?"

You hated the way your eyes were magnetised on his imposing figure. It reminded you how much more powerless you were comparing to him. You wanted to force your eyes away, but you couldn't bring yourself to.

Ubbe shook his head trying to fight back a smirk which was forming on his face.

"It feels like you are provoking me into killing you sometimes. You are so annoying and careless and stubborn and I can't keep myself."

His footsteps became heavier when he almost reached you. You didn't make any attempt to get away from him – you stayed on your former position, staring at him.

"From killing me?"

A low chuckle – one so dark that got goosebumps – came out of his mouth and he took a step closer to you. Again, you didn't try to escape which seemed a terrible idea.

You knew that you were asking too many questions that could get you in danger. This man was so unpredictable that you weren't sure when he would snap out of nowhere and try to strangle you again – or this time he wouldn't use his hands.

"Among other things." These words came out darker than it probably meant.

It wasn't long before he was in front of you and his hands were reaching for your skin. They rested on your neck, but not like previously. He wasn't wrapping his hands firmly around you – he was touching you. Just touching. Nothing more – only pure touching. And yet, only pure it wasn't. Nothing was pure between Ubbe and yourself.

His touch was intoxicating and you felt like you needed more of it. You needed this touch in every inch of your body. It was forbidden – Ubbe was forbidden. And that was the exact reason you had to stop this. Because if you didn't, it would ruin you again and this time it would be worse than any other.

You took some steps back. He didn't try to reach you again. Ubbe knew himself that this was a big mistake and it shouldn't happen again.

"Margrethe probably needs you." You told him bitterly. You couldn't even pronounce her name without feeling this weird feeling which had the exact taste with poison. "She's close to give birth to your child. You should be there for them both."

Ubbe knew that you were speaking the truth – he should have been with his wife – and yet he was in your chambers standing opposite you, feeling attracted to this room – feeling attracted to you.

"You didn't need me though."

It surprised you to hear him saying that. However, it was another truth that couldn't go by unnoticed or stay hidden between you two. You didn't lie to each other because you didn't care about the opinion the other person would form. At least that was what it was supposed to be like.

Indeed almost each month of your pregnancy you were alone, but you liked it. You didn't want Ubbe around – you hated the idea that he would eventually be around when this child would be born.

"But she does." You managed to mutter. You were trying to bring back those feelings. Those you had for him during your pregnancy – when he had been on another raiding and you hadn't seen him for plenty of months.

When you could actually hate him because you didn't have to see him every single day.

"Once you had told me that your feelings for me weren't hateful when I was away." Ubbe's voice held a different tone. One you confessed coming out of his mouth few times.

Yes, you could recall that conversation. It was the one he told you that he was thinking about you at the battlefield, but it was too late to believe in his words, because you had already found out about the slave girl and her child. It was one of the worst days of your life – how somebody could forget the day their life took the downfall.

Although, that conversation was the last thing you wanted to remember after all this threats and the tears you shed. And yet it was still stuck in your mind like it was yesterday.

"I was trying to give in to the feelings I felt for you. The way I had you in my mind when I was at the battlefield. Don't ask me how those feelings were formed — I have no idea. I was thinking of you, knowing that you were praying for me not to return. Those feelings couldn't be replaced by any fight we had. At the end of the day, all that stayed in my mind was one of your rare smiles and the way you care for our son."

Ubbe had said.

"I have never prayed for you to die on the battlefield. I did quite the opposite in fact and it felt strange in my heart. I hated — I told my self to hate you — I was telling myself all the things I hated in you so I could hate you. I felt strange for you — my heart was beating in a strange way as much as I tried to avoid it, it exists, still."

That was your reply.

Your eyes were fixed on his gaze. Ubbe wasn't paying attention in anything else in the room but you. It felt like nothing else existed except the two of you. If it was under different circumstances, you would feel special and even loved – only if it was even possible to acknowledge how it felt to be loved by someone.

His tone was a soft and kind of regretful one. But it had never lasted long. This time time it wasn't due to him mood swings but due to his brother storming in the room, out of breath. Hvitserk cut him off when it was obvious that he was about to say something – or more accurately – confess something.

When you saw the man standing next to the door, you let a long breath – one you weren't aware that you were holding all this time – to leave.

"Margrethe is in labour!" Hvitserk exclaimed and everything changed inside you. It felt like the reality was coming back and your delightful dream was over. The object of your misery was back there – visible –standing in your way.

Your husband's eyes met yours. Regret – they yelled. But you couldn't understand which was the thing he had regretted for.

For cheating?

For impregnating her?

For marrying her?

For treating you like garbage?

For forcing you to stay in his side?

For the misery he put you into?

Too many reasons and they weren't all of them. There must have been something you couldn't recall. And yet, you didn't care. You couldn't even feel pity for your wasted life anymore. In fact, you couldn't anything – you were empty.

"She's asking for you brother." Hvitserk spoke again this time softer. His eyes were moving from Ubbe to you and the opposite, because no one of you had said a word.

"Yes." Was the only thing Ubbe managed to say and dragged his brother outside of the room. "You should be there too. Make yourself proper and come." Your husband was back. That was the Ubbe you knew. Your tyrant.

You had no tears left to shed. You were just empty as you were putting on your dress.

You were empty when you walked through her chambers and had to confess her labour.

You were empty even when the child was out. Boy – the midwife had announced happily. And she brought it in your hands and you weren't empty anymore. He was crying his guts out – like your own. His brown eyes were big and pure and you lost yourself inside them so mush that you almost didn't noticed. Although when you actually show them, they didn't mean anything – a child was brought in the world and it was the biggest blessing Frigg could give to a woman.

"Give him to me!" Margrethe's voice was the one who heard through the silent room, but you didn't move to place her son on her lap.

"The prince should hold him, my lady." The midwife reasoned her, but she didn't stop yelling for her son.

Even if she wanted, she couldn't hide away the child from Ubbe. Sooner or later, he would see him. You couldn't interfere or even felt pity. Nobody pitied you when you cried. Nobody cared for you feelings.

You placed the boy on her lap. Without sparing a look at her – the young man was all you cared about. Which could possibly be his fate. Why did it have to be this difficult for a baby just born. Why should a child carry its parent's burdens.

Your footsteps were vast as you were exiting that suffocating room.

"Son." You muttered when you met the curious eyes of the people who were supposed to be your family. Your eyes dared to wander only on Ubbe's form. You were supposed to bring him his son on your hands and it would probably have happened this way is things had been different.

Ubbe frowned when he spotted your unclear expression. Even you weren't empty enough to be idle after this. You almost felt sympathy for him, forgetting about all the horrible things you had been through because of his cruelty.

If you were as cruel as Ubbe was on you, you would even say that all this was a payback for all his doing. But you didn't feel like it, not when in the middle of this situation stood a new-born boy. One that would probably be the object to everyone's ire.

Ubbe didn't wait for a second word or asked anything else, he just burst into the room without warning. You didn't dare to move or speak another word. After all, it wasn't about you anymore.

Tag list: @bruher, @utterlyhopeful-fics, @hypocritic-trash-baby, @fofisstilinski, @brianochka, @thelirofnorthlands, @malamistka, @gothicwidowsworld, @savagemickey03, @brianna-merlim, @shitsandgiggles1

#vikings ubbe #ubbe imagine #ubbe lothbrok #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe #ubbe x reader #ubbe fanfiction #vikings au #vikings x reader #vikings imagine #vikings fic

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theyeid20 · 6 months

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"Three Times" (Tomas "Smoke" Vrbada x reader) AFAB

Hi! So this is the first time I actually had the inspiration AND the discipline to start and finish a one shot fic I had in mind, and it came from a stupid and horny idea I had at 2 a.m lmao

English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes I can correct or tags I can add please let me know!

Anyways enjoy my writing based on my sleepy brain lol.

Also I published this on AO3 if you're interested.

Tags: #Missionary position, #oral sex (fem received) #mating press, #gentle to rough sex, rough sex. #Vaginal sex.

Unfolding all the clothes you had packed was more exhausting than you expected. You along with the other Earthrrealm protectors arrived at the Shaolin Temple for training, you never knew when more dangers would be on your way so Liu Kang reunited all of his warriors to start training together and be stronger.

You felt a knock on your door, and after a few seconds, Tomas entered your room, wearing his training clothes and not wearing his mask, shamefully showing his expression of mischief.

You are confused at his expression, normally he would show you his genuine smile without any problem anytime he would see you, but now he seemed like he was hiding something from you.

"Smoke?".-you spoke, slowly going toward him to see what was going through his mind better while he closed the door of your room. You looked at him while putting your hand on his chest, a normal gesture you would do when you're about to kiss him.

"Is everything alright, why aren't you speaking?"

Before you could even come closer to him, he trapped you in his arms and started to kiss you, going slowly from short kisses to a passionate long one. Your tongues were touching and fighting for dominance, one of his hands is placed in your head so you wouldn't escape the kiss, and the other one is in your back, his arm powerfully grabbing you to surrender at his trap.

The make out section you were having was cut for the lack of air from both of you, and as you were heavily breathing and gasping for air, Smoke led you effortlessly to your bed, as now he was on top of you, grabbing your face with one hand and the other one your ass, kissing you and exploring the inside of your mouth with his tongue. You are still processing what just happened but with no complaints. During your relationship with Tomas, he was never as straightforward to initiate sex as he is doing now, and you are ok with that since your sex life is still good, yet you were enjoying this new approach.

"Mm....Tomas...".-you moaned, while having your arms around his neck, your hands brushing his soft hair, and your legs in his hips, you are feeling his increasing erection, his hard cock in between your legs rubbing against your clit. You started to get impatient as you were taking off your clothes, so is Tomas. Still kissing each other, both of you end up being naked.

Smoke massage your breasts, your nipples at this point were hard, sensitive at his touch, he was massaging your nipples with enough force to send chills through your spine but not to hurt you, and to give you that delicious sensation of pleasure. He started sucking one of them while still delicately massaging the other one.

At this point you were being slightly louder, his movements were too good for your body to ignore. His lips now stopped sucking your nipple, and now was trading kisses from your stomach and now leading to your private area. His fingers were entering your pussy, and since you got really wet with his previous touch his fingers entered slowly without any problem, his thumb is carefully and teasingly touching your clitoris, provoking you moans and to be louder at every movement.

You almost screamed when you instead of his thumb, you felt his tongue in your clit, still doing slow movement but increasing his speed, sucking and licking while his fingers curled inside you, searching for that sensible spot on you.

The sloppy sounds from your vagina and your legs staring tightening around his head, along with your moans felt like music to his ears. He sucked your clit and flicked his tongue across it. His tongue was drenched with saliva and your juices. Your now hypersensitive clitoris was red from overstimulation and you are trembling as your body is reaching its limit. His fingers are still moving inside you, now hitting that delicious spot on you. His other hand was placed in your thigh.

Tomas was eating your pussy to the point of you seeing stars, your entire body was shaking from the good feeling of his tongue in your most sensitive area. His dick was hard as a rock, and precum was leaking from his tip, he was hard from only your moans, and knowing he was the one making you feel like this, he grows impatient form his desire to only just fuck you there, but your pleasure was a priority to him always.

After what felt like eternity to you, you came unexpectedly in his mouth, your whole body shaken after your intense orgasm, you didn't realize your hand were grabbing his hair, you had chunks of his hair in your fists, you opened your hands to let go of his hair, worried that you might have hurted him.

"S-sorry I didn't mea-".-you were silenced by his gruff voice, who gestured you to hush, his pupils were occupying the mayority of his eyes. His lust and desire for you were not finished yet.

His still didn't say a word, and was only guiding you with gestures. Crawling back to you, and putting himself in top again, he for a moment, admired you, your beauty, he thought to himself how lucky he was to have you in his life, and how you were there for him In moments when he most needed. After a few moments of him admiring you, he then kissed you, with more love than he can ever show you in a kiss. You were feeling your juices in his mouth, meanwhile he grabbed your legs and separated them, grabbing his dick and guiding it to your entrance. He started moving his tip in circles in your clitoris, sending shivers to your body.

"Mm.. stop teasing!".-you please impatiently now.

He still didn't say anything, and he granted you your wish and slowly entered his cock into your vagina, putting your legs in his shoulder to get a better angle at your G-spot. The sensation of his veins in your walls were making you go crazy, as his slow movements were making you go more inpatient for him to just fuck you hard and make you forget everything but his big cock thrusting mercilessly into your tight pussy.

After moments of him being gentle while penetrating you, and seeing your red face and your moans increasing their volumes, he started going faster, and keeping his pace.

Your moans were starting to get louder as his movements were getting rougher, not focusing on his velocity but now on finding your sensible spot, getting into a more slow but rough pace to pleasure you, he watches as your face was getting lost on lust and pleasure, his dick stretching your walls in a delicious way, his tip abusing your cervix while hitting now your right spot.

You squirmed and mumbled nonsense, while he was whimpering from feeling your tight and wet walls against his rubbing dick. Your tongue is almost falling out of your mouth from the movements of his hips towards your entrance. Your abused pussy was barely taking his length and your body was shaking like crazy from his movements, entering and leaving, and repeating the process this time getting faster as he found your sensitive spot in your cervix.

His balls slapped against you ass, the bed now hitting the wall and his groans mixing with your whines and moans of pleasure. Smoke was feeling cocky, your moans and praises encouraged him further to keep his pace. Your hands are on his back, your nails scratching his back.

Your pussy tighting his dick and milking it to get more precum from it, as Smoke was now getting louder and louder along with you. His movements getting less erratic and his hips movements were getting stronger, ramming himself into you. You cried in pleasure rolling your eyes back and clenching around him. Your orgasm is again taking control of your body and you are screaming from pleasure.

"Tomas Oh My...God!".-your trembling lips could barely say a word after the second intense orgasm you had. Your walls are clenching Smoke's cock, with the sensation of tightness on his dick, his sensitive tip was now feeling extra slimy from the precum and the juice from your vagina combined. With your walls and your orgasms clenching and milking his dick, Smoke finally let out a loud moan and came inside you, his cum loading inside you.

He pulled out from you slowly, so his seed would still be inside you, and to not ruin the shed that are already wet with you sweat. You and Smoke did your best to catch breath and to finally for you to relax in bed and to look at each other with love in your eyes.

"Tomas"-.You finally said in a shaky voice. "That was... amazing".- while hugging him, you yawned, getting really tired after a good section of sex with your partner. "This is the first time you straight up went directly to the action eh? Not complaining at all".

"After Johnny made me play a game with the others about not speaking until someone said my name three times, let's say I had an idea"-..Tomas finally said, with a smile on his face, he started laughing looking at your confused face. "Everyone but me had someone to say their names, we couldn't help each other, so I came to you, and I can see that you like it"

"....Are you kidding me?".-you couldn't believe it. Your boyfriend had probable gave you the best fuck of your life and it's started because of one of the stupidest reasons? For a Game Johnny made him play? Well you are not complaining at all, it is hilarious after all.

#tomas vrbada x reader #smoke x reader #mortal kombat #MortalKombat1 #afab reader #smoke tomas vrbada #no use of y/n #creamie

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crazylittlejester · 1 month

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I've seen headcanons of Warr's possible ancestors but just think how funny it would be if he was Twilight's descendant. Not only how that would affect their relationship but Warriors realizing in pure horror that by bathing manure off of Mask, he had once scrubbed horse poop off his great great GREAT grandpa.

no because this is a headcanon thats slowly been growing on me and I was thinking about this JUST the other day

its all fun and games until Warriors realizes he’s actually his little whiny brat younger brother’s descendant 😭 (he’d bawl his eyes out if he found out he was actually related to Time he’d be so happy, even if he initially went ‘ew’ or something just to be ridiculous and dramatic)

For me, Twilight is Time’s great grandson (that’s just my headcanon) but I think there would be a good couple hundred years between Twilight and Wars, a good few generations (maybe 3-5)

The urge to write a fic where the three of them figure this out is SOOOO strong rn

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu wars #warriors linked universe #linked universe warriors #jes talks #jes ask #jes headcanons

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shadebloopnik · 22 days

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Some really messy sketches on a small little AU with Carmilla as a Fallen Angel Warrior.

Different from the Exorcists who slaughter Sinners, and more dedicated to the actual protection of Heaven against the darker forces. The designs haven't been thought out much, but I like drawing the horns, so I thought it'd be a cool warrior hairdo, like how Exorcists wore demonic masks (I was really bored in class okay-)

Her daughters, Odette and Clara are there too. They looked pretty different even as twins, which were a bit of an oddity at the time. They were often made to dress alike, and act alike. Most viewed them as a package deal rather than taking time to understand their individuality.

Its why they're dressed so freely in hell, relishing in how different they can be whilst still having a great bond.

Her daughters are ultimately what causes her to fall. Drawing the half horn half hair down style looked a lot cooler in my head, but it was fun regardless.

Some secret regarding her daughters get found out, Heaven making her choose to either cast her daughters down or join them. Carmilla didn't hesitate.

More info on the AU/fic in the cut belowww:

I dunno if im ever gonna expand on it, but I loved the idea of making it Zestmilla. Maybe Carmilla met the old Overlord in one of her trips in hell, maybe fighting in a battle there? Or helping establish order? Anyway, she was alone when she met Zestial, and the two were quiet the enemies when they met. They fought, though didn't aim to kill, resulting in a close fight with Carmilla as victor. She wasn't an Exorcist warrior, and saw no need to immediately end this Overlord. She wasn't sent there to do mindless murder, and would like to avoid useless battles if she could. Besides, he was polite enough, and though she didn't trust him, he didn't grate on her nerves either. Zestial was quite taken with her, suspicious and quite murderous towards an angel, but liked her well enough for her wit and level headedness. Her grace and skill in battle was also admirable.

They bump into each other many more times, over the course of Carmilla's visits to hell, and with each meeting, they turn a bit more cordial, even striking an unlikely friendship, that blossoms into much more. It takes them about a hundred or so years(bc i LOVE relationships that REAAAALLLY take the time to develop and build on that trust and love) before they become romantically involved. They seem like the couple who would take it slow, being cautious and not rushing anything less it would harm the other.

And though Carmilla's trips to hell were halted, their love was not for naught as she gave birth to Clara and Odette. Her one regret was not being able to give Zestial the great news, he would've been an amazing father.

She manages to hide their identities for a good while. The two had rather angelic features, wings and all, and humanoid forms unlike their father's. The only thing that pointed to their demonic heritage were their eyes, whose sclera was the same shade of red as her iris. It was easily hidden with simple spells though. The two girls bore quite the resemblance towards her, even with some oddities, and were left fairly alone, being able to remain undetected for decades.

(I just left this post to sketch this out real quick lol, just to get the coloring in mind, not set on the design but I dont mind it.)

The peace couldn't last. After a while with Odette and Clara still being considered young as angels, their secret gets out. Maybe the spells wore off, or by a slip of the tongue, but for some reason or another it gets found out that they're half demons. They were attacked, and the daughters were stripped of their wings and sentenced to be cast down to Hell, left at the mercy of the next Extermination. Carmilla was given a chance to redeem herself and stand back, and let her "mistakes" be washed clean.

Carmilla fought back, her wingless daughters clutching to her own feathers for protection. She scooped them up, flying away to hell, less they get any more damaged. Try as she might, however, they didn't manage to escape unscathed. She plummeted into Hell; feeling the curses and painful burn of magic at her back, nipping at her form.

It was as if Heaven and Hell itself tore her apart with her descent, both pulling with reckless abandon, shaping her into what they wanted.

She couldn't even afford to lose consciousness; she had her daughters to protect after all. Both girls were weak and bleeding, their backs aching from where their wings used to be. Carmilla glanced at her own feathers, and felt her heart break. It looked just as painful as it felt. Her once sleek and razor sharp looking feathers were nearly singed beyond repair. She retracted them, less she attract more enemies with them in display.

She struggled to get up, carrying her daughters with her despite the weakness in her legs. She didn't even have her spear with her, weaponless except for the ballet slippers she'd forged herself with angelic steel. Her hair was down and unruly, all three of them covered in burns and cuts and bruises and bleeding wounds. The attack came out of nowhere. Her daughters weren't even given a chance to defend themselves.

Weaponless. It can't happen again.

She manages to drag her daughters with her, only one place she could think of approaching. Its been decades since she's been to Hell, she hopes the territories didn't change too much. She was hesitant in going to Zestial for help. After all, its been years, and she'd left without being able to say goodbye. He'd be justified in hating her, and she wouldn't hold it against him. At the least, they could hide somewhere in his territory. His lands were one of the best choices, the demons residing under his rule were fairly disciplined. In a place as dangerous as Hell, an environment that was fairly familiar to her gave some bit of comfort. Even if he didn't accept them, even if he was unaware of their existence, Carmilla was satisfied with simply a place to rest.

She needed not worry though. As soon as Zestial heard the slightest news about strangers in his territory, he rushed to meet them himself. He noticed the large crash just some hours before night fell, and couldn't help the spark of hope. He was greeted by the sight of a few dead bodies, 1 or 2 who thought they could get lucky taking advantage of a weakened opponent. He arrived just in time to see a third fall, bloodied heels clicking on the ground below. The figure stood tall, though was clearly tired and heaving deep breaths. He barely noticed the two smaller figures in the distance, his gaze focused solely upon the lone woman, whose silver hair was still so beautiful even with all the dirt and blood matting it. He stepped closer, the sound of it causing the woman to turn and-

It didn't matter how dark it was. It didn't matter how her sclera was now the same shade of red as her iris were, as if it were inverted. He'd recognize her anywhere.

Without caring that he'd get stabbed himself, he rushed to pull her in a tight embrace, feeling her freeze beneath his arms. He buried his face in her hair, nuzzling it even with the blood and dirt, afraid as though she'd disappear if he ever let go.

He felt her large hands wrap around him and for the first time since his existence in Hell, he felt as if he could cry. This was real. This wasn't a figment of his imagination, nor a result of insanity. She was here. After all these years she came back to him. He couldn't be happier.

He immediately takes her and the two girls back to his residence, letting them clean up and helping patch their wounds. When he found out the two were his daughters, he felt as if- yea no, he was crying, this wasn't just a feeling, he couldn't stop the tears from streaming down as he hugged the two as firmly as he could without aggravating their wounds. He felt so angry for them, enraged that heaven could deal out such punishments for something the girls couldn't control.

He took them all in, preparing rooms for everyone. He prepared one for Carmilla too, not wanting to push his luck. It has been years after all, and he didn't want to force himself onto her should she decide she didn't reciprocate anymore. In the end, they all slept in the same room. Carmilla wanted to be with Zestial, feeling safer with someone else in the room to stand guard, and her daughters crawled back to her, far too afraid to sleep in such a new place alone after everything that happened.

So they all snuggled in the same large bed, Zestial keeping a respectful distance from the young girls as to not frighten them, all the while letting his webbed cloak wrap around Carmilla in comfort.

Carmilla fell asleep last, her thoughts running wild. It was all so much, but right now, here with her daughters in her arms and under Zestial's embrace, she felt at peace for the first time in a long while.

Glancing at the mirror across the room, she hummed at the changes in her eyes. The only thing she could think of was how was that she finally matched her daughters. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, she'd think, drifting off into sleep.

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ragdoll-exoart · 2 years

Text

Courting a Drider by accident - I

This fic has mature content with non-con elements, predator x prey. Only read it if +18

If you don't like the theme, don't read

Drider x female human

I-

The drider slammed her back against the trunk of a tree.

"You naughty little human, you'll pay for what you did to me!" He hissed menacingly as he clutched his bleeding forearm. The human hunter would've sliced it off if the Drider didn't have such good reflexes. Well, even without an arm, he still had another three to compensate along with all his eight spider legs.

He also underestimated her, acting like a cat toying with a rat before killing it, so the cut was well deserved.

"I'm not scared of you, you ugly fiend!" The woman said defiantly, looking up to the monster who towered over her. She tried to move, but her back remained glued to the trunk behind her. She probably was trapped by one of the webs made by the drider that she didn’t notice. The female warrior shouldn't have fight with him so deep inside the forest, in the monster's territory, now she was trapped, her sword on the ground just under him and far away from her reach.

"O-ho! You should be," He lowered his torso to have a better look at the face of the human who dared to trespass his domains. He grabbed her by the chin with one of his hands and opened a devilish grin that exposed his bare fangs and his sharp teeth. "It's been a while since the last time I ate human flesh," Paralyzed by fear the woman didn't move a muscle as the drider approached his face just under her jaw, inhaling deeply. "And you smell so, so good," His voice was low and hoarse. "Must taste as good as well,"

Her brain suddenly woke up from the daze as if predicting her incoming death and she finally found strength to react. The drider quickly backed away as the woman tried to cut his throat with a pocket knife.

"G-get away from me!" She shrieked in a tremble voice, not sounding as courageous as she wanted to be, but she was a warrior and wouldn't give up without a fight.

The drider checked her over with more amusement than annoyance. Oh, she probably looked pathetic with her back glued to a tree and only a small knife to protect her life. He huffed out a snort. "You're a dangerous one, aren't you?" In a blink of an eye, her weapon was gone from her hand. "I must be careful with you, right?" His voice was filled with sarcasm as he played with the stolen knife between his long fingers, examining curiously the metal blade.

"You'd better be," She spat in anger, aware that she was far from threatening, as she was clearly all barks and no bites but wanting to take off all frustration from inside her chest. "Come closer again, and I'll bite your face off!"

The drider retreated back a little, looking as astonished as if a horn just sprouted on her head. He leaned down his torso just enough to maintain their heads at the same level, his three pairs of eyes searching through her facial expressions. The woman did her best to conceal how awfully frightened she was trying to simulate a mask of anger as she kept her eyes locked with the monster's.

The seconds stretched and was odd the way how the whole body of the drider stayed still as a statue while he examined the woman. Her heart was beating at a maddening pace and her legs felt like jelly. The woman prayed inwardly that the creature ended everything quickly. As he opened a grin full of teeth, her only thoughts were how HE was the one who could actually bite her face off. "Human teeth aren't so sharp, you can't hurt me,"

"T-try me," She said defiantly.

He chuckled darkly. “A little man with a big mouth,”

“I’m not a man! I’m a woman!” She complained, always tired of people who didn’t acknowledge her skills due to her gender, always mistaking her for a boy. She was about to die, yes, but she would do so with her honor as a woman!

“I’ve heard female humans taste way better than men, I’ve always wanted to try it,” He said as he licked his chops.

“Well, I would try a drider too, but I bet you taste awful!” She said without thinking and blushed as soon as she noticed how twisted her words could ring on the wrong ears.

The drider was taken aback by her words. Then he grabbed her face in one hand and narrowed his eyes at the woman. “Careful with your tongue, human,” She struggled and used her own hands trying to release herself from his grip, but he had an extra pair of hands to grab them and hold her firmly in place. With only his thumb and middle finger, he pressed each one of her cheeks, forcing her jaw to open. He slid his index finger inside her mouth and she closed her eyes in anticipation, thinking he was about to rip the inside of her mouth using his nail but it was retracted, she could feel it as he caressed her tongue. The moment he let his guard down and relaxed his grip, she closed her jaw with all the strength she could muster to bite his finger off. He hissed but didn't pull it off even as she continued to chew it in attempt to hurt him as bad as possible. "See? You are weak, can't you try harder?" His skin was sturdy but she was determined and felt a small victory when the metallic taste of blood invaded her mouth. He hissed again and when she looked up, the drider was biting his own lower lip in an expression of pure delight.

The woman had an awkward feeling and tried to take his finger off her mouth, but he didn't allow her to budge.

"Are your intentions true?" He said in a hoarse voice. "Do you spit or swallow?"

She started to panic by the way he sounded. Of course she was only imagining the double meaning of his question. About what intentions was he speaking of? His blood tasted awful and way too strong. The only thing that crossed her mind and was plausible was the fact that perhaps drider's blood was toxic for humans. It seemed better for her to die quickly, so she sucked his finger and swallowed all the blood and saliva in a big gulp. He pulled his finger as if she just burned him and looked at her with a startled expression.

"Y-you sure of it?" He asked with such insecurity that the woman felt as if she was unexpectedly talking to a thirteen old boy. She didn't understand what the hell was happening, but if he somehow was feeling intimidated by her, it was best to stay in character.

"The only thing I'm sure of," She started, her voice now in a tone of renewed confidence. "Is that if I were a monster like you, I would pin you to the ground and rip each one of your limbs, very slowly and painfully,"

He drew on a breath. "Slowly?" His voice was shaken. Whatever the woman was doing, she was walking on the right path.

"Yes, very, very slowly. I would want to keep you alive as long as possible, make you suffer until I was done with you.” Again she blushed a little by the double implication of her words.

"Oh fuck," He breathed and made a painful expression as one of his hands felt downwards to touch his lower belly, exactly where a human crotch would be, though in his particular case it was at the junction where his humanoid part fused with the spider body. It was covered in thick dark hair, just like a tarantula, but she could see something poking out of it, shinning and dripping.

Oh no.

It couldn't be his... could it?

"And what would you do... after?" He asked giving a stroke on it. Oh yes, that was definitely a drider's cock.

"A-after what?" She asked stupidly, unable to take her eyes out of that.

"Would you let me live?" He asked in ragged breaths, still touching himself with a dazed expression on his face.

She had to give the worst answer imaginable that could act as an ice bucket of water on him. "Oh no, of course not," The tip of his cock twitched, as if it was a being with its own free will. "I would feast on your flesh until your last breath,"

He grunted and made a frustrated expression as his cock furiously expelled a long white stream, he wrapped his hand tightly on it in an attempt to prevent it from happening, but his cum kept coming out, a load so long and heavy it looked like he was peeing.

Oh no, what she just did?

“H-hey! What’s your problem you stupid monster??” She asked exasperated by the absurdity of her situation. Of all the possible scenarios she imagined as she hunted down the drider, she never expected that it would end with him jerking off to her and climaxing as she said how she would torture him.

“What’s MY problem?” He laughed like a maniac, his lips stretched in a way that exposed too much of his teeth and fangs, a mouth that could easily take apart any limb from her body. “Oh, you are so cute, brave woman, coming from so far away just to courtship me,”

She blinked stupidly at him and gasped. “I did not!”

He pulled her easily from the tree only to slam her against his body, one pair of hands holding her by the arms as another pair held her just under the knees, making her straddle him in the air as their faces were awfully close. “Don’t deny it, little human, not when you so boldly state that you also want to carry my offspring.”

Before she could state otherwise, she felt a sting on her neck and she cried in pain as the drider buried his fangs and teeth on her flesh.

“Stop, it hurts!” She complained in a crying voice, while she grabbed him by the hair, trying to pull him off.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He said in a voice so sweet it almost dripped honey. Then he kissed where he bit her and slurped the area. That honey was probably her blood. “Don’t you want your belly stuffed with my eggs?”

‘No’, her rational mind thought. ‘Yes’, said the warmth that was spreading through her lower belly. Her mind was fuzzy.

She heard him breathing a laugh near her ear. “Don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you,” The drider said as he carried her more deep inside the forest and far away from human civilization. A primal instinct screamed that he was carrying her towards his lair, a place where he had absolute power and safe enough for them to mate without being disturbed or endangered by anything. If something bad happened to her, no one would ever find out.

The woman had no clue about drider’s reproductive habits, in particular the fact that female driders often killed the males after their coupling and they consider an honor to serve as the food that will nurture the future generations. It turned him on not just the things she said to him, but also the fact that she didn’t cower in fear or plead for her life even after being captured by him. Easy prey is too boring.

Next chapter

Commission info // Tip Jar

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divinehedons · 11 months

Text

a place of worship.

pairing: mandal'or!din djarin x f!reader

word count: ~2.7k words

summary: despite the multiple times from which you had made love with the mandal'or, there is always something quite different. like the taste of poison. from dust to divinity, measure for measure.

warnings: this is an explicit, dark fic. minors, DO NOT INTERACT. this is a play on bacchanalia (or at least divinely-induced mania) so expect a complete bastardization of both canon and religious-adjacent imagery. din djarin is possibly (definitely) not a good guy. dubious consent, explicit p-in-v sex, oral (f!receiving), allusions to non-consensual p-in-v, breeding kink

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS MUCH APPRECIATED! Please let me know what you think or if I missed anything!

You still remember the day you first met the keeper of Mandalore. You remember the masked warriors that took you from the comforts of your small home.You remember the rough hands of the armourer who pressed her gloved hands against your lower stomach, as if reading the very pattern of your skin. She takes your pulse, as if incensed by the strong rhythm of your very veins. Her blood is strong. She shall sire the heirs of the Mandal’or.

And that’s how you end up in his bedchambers, scrubbed clean of dirt and grime so much so that you felt your identity rinsed away. So much so that it allowed you to exist within and without. To believe, momentarily, that the consummation of what you didn’t know to be your marriage occurred to someone else, a different version of you.

He was a gentle lover, even back then. When all is said and done, he provided you with a small meal, the gentle touches cleaning you again of spend. He asked you your name. You said it in a whisper, He showed you his scars when you couldn’t stop looking. And, in that warm silence from which all memories exist, you showed your own.

–

You supposed it all changed when he started leaving for battle more often. The weeks of warfare would return him to you: slightly, but unmistakably changed. Sometimes you would hear of him lumbering into his hallowed halls, bearing the heavy weight of his beloved darksaber. You would hear his steps before you actually saw him, pulling you closer with a drunken chuckle.

“How about a kiss for your warrior riduur?” Sometimes you think he truly growls before he takes your lips between his teeth.

Sometimes you fear he would one day bite your skin clean off. You try to tell him once that it hurt. He responded by truly making your lip bleed, tongue running across the taste of iron and moaning. Even when you squeal, writhe in the pain, it’s almost as if he was looking for a spot that made you cry the most. Then he kisses you again, comforts you, calls you the most beautiful things. Cyari’ka. Light of my life, my sin, my soul.

You have not carried an heir, even if it was your purpose. You were surprised by the kindness when he asked you if you wanted a child in those early days of your marriage. You suppose you should have cowered in fear. And yet, perhaps his kindness has convinced you otherwise. So you ask him to wait. You try and read his features beneath his stormy gaze. But he knows how to mask himself well. He smiles, kissing your forehead.

“Whatever you say, mesh’la.”

He does not tell you how politics goes and so you learn to read between the lines.

When he falls short of something, he takes– he’d grab you by the arm, press you down to the nearest surface, and sink his half-hard cock between your unprepared walls. He shushes you when you whine. He forces his fingers down your throat when you persist. He does not wait for you to come. He fucks you for his own pleasure, oftentimes leaving you with his seed between your legs as he goes off to distract himself with his ward.

But when he succeeds… you are reminded of the patient man at the night of your wedding. He’ll ask you of your day and chuckle as you redden, flustered to come up with some linear narrative. He makes love so softly and so gently that for a moment you think you finally understand what it was everyone seemed to see in him. He stops from simply being the Mandal’or, the keeper of his realm, the cunningly vicious commander-in-chief. He softens, he turns somewhat human. He asks if you’d let him. Ask as the prickling of his beard tickles the crook of your neck, letting you pull off your own little chemise of your own volition. Ask as he weighs your breasts and suckles on them so needingly. Ask as he prepares you, bringing you orgasm over orgasm with his fingers and tongue before slowly finally fucking up to you.

As he approaches you now, you try and see which hand you will be dealt with. He sees you, picking through the seeds from the gardeners, trying to decide which would be most suitable for the season. And when you see him, you see his playful smirk as he finally disables his weapon, clipping it to his belt before brushing back a few fallen strands of hair.

“Have you eaten, adi’ka?”

Only then do you know. It was a good day.

—

In the more recent weeks, it had become harder to separate your marriage with your duty. No matter how the Mandal’or shielded you, you still heard the whispers. You still saw the dark visors looking towards you– towards your too-empty womb. You swore you heard someone tsk once. Yet what stuck to you the most was when the Armourer herself visited your riduur so early in the morning.

You were barely awake, pretending to have fallen asleep under the sheets whilst the two of them spoke. The air was tense, and you understood why she had come. She had come to deliver an ultimatum.

“We sought for the most viable being to ensure the safety of your bloodline,” she had been saying. “But seeing that it is not the case, perhaps it would be deemed proper to… seek out another.”

“You will do no such thing,” Din finally intercedes, clearly enraged by the suggestion. You hear the sound of breaking glass, a sharp cuss escaping from him. Did his grip on his drink slip, by all means? “The matters of my wedding bed are none of your business. And I will keep it that way.”

You hear the soft sigh of exasperation. One for each of them.

“I hoped for it to be the same. But you are expected to sire heirs. And in avoiding so… you leave an already unstable, rebuilding world into more chaos.”

You stop listening. It is too much. What hurt most was the knowledge that she was right.

Maybe that’s why you let Din take you completely when you woke again.

He fucks up into you with renewed vigor, muscles taut and begging to be released He growls in your ear when he sees your face contort with pleasure just as your consciousness shakes you awake. “Precious girl, you’re so good-” When you kiss him, he kisses back, when you moan, it makes him all the more determined.

Ever since the night you consummated your marriage, that morning was the first time he felt the prickling ironies of the Maker. It felt good, too good to watch you take his seed so willingly. It was a pleasure he never seemed to understand before.

You try to ask him what the matter was but he does not answer. You look into his eyes and you almost see the way he seemed to look into a different plane of reality, opening himself up to complete and utter surrender.

If only you knew where that look of his would lead you… perhaps you would have tried to wake him from his trance. Instead you let him, fucking you all morning until his duties finally tore him away from you.

—

He began to tell you of how mandal’ors have originally conceived their heirs. Generations upon generations, he claimed, were formed in the temple, blessed by the Makers themselves. He talked of it with such passion, such interest, that you saw it so vividly in your head. The mandal’or and their chosen partner, dressed down in nothing but sheer white robes, drinking from the Living Waters of Mandalore. You could imagine the chants as he whispers it to you in bed, a calling for divinity. Nine months later, a strong heir is born into the world, kicking and screaming with divine power in their bones.

All the while, his bad days grew more and more frequent. His turbulent gaze grew more familiar. So did the sting between your legs when you sit with him at dinner. He stopped talking to you, and instead chose to whisper to himself, muttering incoherent languages whenever he thinks you don’t look. He goes on battles more. His advisors tell you he succeeds, violently, at that. You heard whispers of how he slaughtered a warring tribe, done so without hesitation that no one looked him in the eye as they marched home.

He now fucks you with abandon, uncaring if you happen to pass out in the barrage of thrusts one evening, pinning you down so hard you bruised in another.

More than ever, you begin to feel more lonely. It begins to hurt your chest when, month after month, your husband finds that you still bleed, that once again, you have failed to provide him an heir.

Maybe that is why you suddenly succumb.

When you enter your dark bedroom, hearing his mutterings in the dark, you pretend not to hear, sinking into the sheets as you watch him seated on the edge of his side of the bed.

“Do you think it’s possible,” you began, horrified to hear the terror in your voice. “Do you think it’s possible to do it again?” He looks to you, stormy eyes still unweathered as you try to find the right words.”If we went to the temple, dressed in robes, and drank from the living waters… do you think it would still be the same thing?”

You see the light break in his gaze, rooted as he climbs up the bed to kiss you gently. He smirks in the darkness, as if his prey had finally fallen into his trap.

“I’ll make sure of it, mesh’la.”

—

When you both entered the temple, he was in a good mood. He attended to you all morning, brought you food to bed, brushing your hair with his fingers repeatedly as he watches your movements. Perhaps he was waiting for the moment you changed your mind. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t dare; it’s as if you knew his attitude would change the moment hesitation became apparent. So you smiled, asked him to help you dress, and followed him wherever he went.

Now here you stood, dressed in a thin white robe within the lower levels of the planet. It is quiet, and he is patient with you. It had been so natural, to kneel upon the obsidian banks of the Living Waters, to follow him in prayer, attempting your best to recreate the phonetics of Mando’a. And when you kneeled to cup fluid in your hands, it made sense. The water was cool and sweet to the touch, extinguishing the last embers of hesitation in your chest– and perhaps finally defeating your will, subduing you into the role the world has laid out for you.

It is difficult to describe the feeling of divinity cracking open your mind in submission. You feel pinpricks and shivers against your scalp, an electrifying presence that only grows stronger when Din Djarin presses his lips against the crook of your neck. He is so gentle about it, trailing his hands up and down your trembling torso, whispering pet names into your ear as you fully relax.against his touch.

Perhaps it was Pavlovian. Because whenever he spoke to you in Mando’a, it was like a shared secret, like nothing but the two of you mattered. Mesh’la, cya’re, adi’ka.

You try and respond whenever you can. Riduur, riduur, riduur.

He disrobes you, and the pinpricks of energy seem to follow his fingers wherever they went. “Sometimes I think you’re just divine,” he whispers, making you giggle as his rough beard scratches against the skin of your back, your thighs, the skin of your stomach. He seemed to stop right above where he imagined your womb to be, muttering once again in incomprehensible Mando’a, kissing the skin as you shut your eyes and melt into his touch.

In your hands, my love, you wanted to tell him, I find my devotion.

He lays you on a bed of smoother rocks, leaving himself on top of you, so close that you see that tranced look in his eyes, see how much intense it had been from the last time in the bedroom. You try and make him look at you, but he sees nothing, even with you sprawled, willing and brand new right before him. He focuses his actions on tasting your sweet little cunt, groaning at the feeling of your walls barely letting his tongue in.

“Always so tight for me, pretty girl.” He sounds so different, so distant.

So you shut your eyes. You pretend.

“Give me an heir, Din,” you finally whisper, spreading your legs for him, welcoming him to take. “A beautiful little heir…”

He does not even disrobe himself. But when he kisses you, he silences the doubts in your mind. His hands wander, exploring your skin anew before he finally cups your face gently, making you look at him before he carefully, lovingly fucks the head of his hard cock into your wanting cunt.

The stretch is glorious, comfortable. You feel your slick working to open you up for him. Your moan reverberates from the high walls of the caverns, combined with the feral growl that escapes the man above you. “That’s it. Just like that, cya’re. You like it, don’t you?” You try not to cry, feeling as if your husband had transformed right before your very eyes and you didn’t even know it.

You stare the man you love in the face, the keeper of Mandalore, the warrior divine, the bearer of the darksaber that tore from town after town. He kisses you again, and you try and recognize which parts of him remained the same. He is still Din. He responds to the same name. He kisses you the same way he does on the good days. He sounds the same, he still likes it when you tangle your hands into his hair and mewl needingly into his ear. You’d still follow him anywhere, even if he didn’t ask.

And then you try to recognize where he had changed. His hands pin you too tightly by your shoulders. Up close like this, you finally see the ghoulish dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t been sleeping. His jaw, permanently locked as a tell of his alertness. It must have been weeks since he had ever felt at peace.

His rough fingers reach down to rub you through an orgasm, pausing to witness the way your body writhed from the pleasures brought about by your hand. He gets to have you this way. Only he gets to have you this way. Only he gave you the pleasure you felt burning through your bones. And it is enough. It is enough as he fucks you through the tidal waves, chasing his own release in a heavenly blend of cries and moans.

By the Maker, he thinks, perhaps You truly did exist. Only You are capable of creating such a glorious act of creation in her.

There is something different when he fills you up there, blessed by the Living Waters of his own planet, the same waters that sanctified him. He bites your lip until it bleeds, thrusting once, twice, before his knees buckle and he is falling into you, dazed and drunken from the very smell of your combined spent.

He makes you promise that you’ll never leave him. “Swear it, adi’ka. Right here where the heirs of Mandalore came into being.”

You promise. You swear.

He kisses you, and you try and pretend that you didn’t notice the way he had begun to force his mouth against yours. Even his kisses are changing too.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #mandal'or din djarin #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader

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triforce-of-mischief · 4 months

Text

Blupee Blood

Rating: T

Warnings: physical restraint, lots of panic, and excessive descriptions of a needle/pseudo medical procedure.

Word count: 2300

Summary: Inadvertently transformed into a bunny, Legend is kidnapped by a gang of Yiga who are looking for blupee blood. Legend knows that they have the wrong bunny, but the Yiga are determined to have their prize one way or another.

Notes:

Adjacent to Overcome, just a bonus story because I don't want to fit this into the main timeline.

As always with my Bunleg fics, please don't think about the semantics too much.

AO3

Please show your support with a reblog! Likes do nothing.

Legend could feel eyes on him as he walked away from their camp. Four’s quiet worry, Warriors’ underlying protectiveness, Hyrule’s curiosity. The constant attention was exactly why he had suddenly announced that he was going on a quick walk for some fresh air, no need to accompany him. Wild had sworn that there were no monsters around, so Legend didn’t bother to grab any weapons other than his fist ring and an ice rod.

The ambient bustle and chatter of camp quickly faded, replaced with buzzing insects and tall grass rustling in the breeze. Legend closed his eyes, walking aimlessly and breathing in the crisp air. This was what they were fighting for. A peaceful kingdom, untouched by evil.

Evil, of course, chose that moment to touch Legend.

An unexpected misstep brought Legend’s boot to a sticky, miasmic substance that, as he gasped and looked down at it, sent red tendrils to climb and cling. They darted up and around his boots, reaching his knees in a matter of seconds. It burned on contact with bare skin, but he had no time to react before he fell to the ground, catching himself with-

Paws. Pink, furry bunny paws.

Legend wanted to scream.

So he did, though it was more of an embarrassingly high shriek. It wasn’t like there was anybody around to hear him, so he did it again for good measure.

Just how had it not crossed the champion’s mind to warn them about random puddles of sinister gunk? If Legend had known, he would have brought his moon pearl but just this once, he had considered himself safe to leave most of his gear behind for a simple walk.

Whiskers twitching as he grumbled murderous thoughts, Legend turned tail and began to hop back in the direction of camp. Only a few hops later, he was stopped in his tracks by an explosion of hanafuda.

A gloved hand grabbed the scruff of Legend’s neck, hoisting him up to come face-to-face with a white mask bearing an upside-down symbol of the Sheikah. The wearer of the mask was tall and lanky, wearing a red skintight bodysuit and flanked by two seemingly identical individuals.

Legend glared and ground his teeth. Just act like a normal rabbit and they’ll let you go, no harm done. There’s no way you can fight one of them like this, let alone three.

“Is that really a blupee?” one of them asked, tilting his head to the side. “I thought it would be more… blue.”

Another elbowed him. “It’s a magic bunny, idiot, you think they can’t come in more colors?”

Legend showed no signs of understanding their banter. Not a magic bunny, just a normal one, now let me go.

“Both of you shut up,” the one holding Legend snapped. “If this is a blupee, the color of its fur won’t matter. It’s the inside that counts.”

“Yeah!” the first one nodded along. “Blupee blood… rumored to be one of the most magically potent liquids in Hyrule! Imagine what Master Kohga could do with a store of the stuff!”

“Glory to Master Kohga,” the three intoned in unison.

That was a bit concerning. Legend prepared himself to slip free and bolt away the instant one of them raised their weapon. There was only one way these goons could harvest his blood, he thought, very much aware of the vicious-looking sickles on their backs.

His kidnappers gave no warning before teleporting, the peaceful field vanishing in the blink of an eye. Legend sneezed as a fluttering paper brushed his nose, then observed his new surroundings.

They were in a cave now, cool and damp with moss-covered walls and lit by a few luminescent plants. A simple wooden table and stools were shoved against a curved wall. A crude bamboo cage sat, empty, on top of a crate in a corner of the cave. Drawings and diagrams of rabbits and recipes decorated the walls.

Nice and homey, Legend thought. Hopefully this isn’t too far from where I was… Wild’s era is so massive, I could escape and never find the others.

It wasn’t going to be nearly as easy to escape now, though. Who knew how many tunnels connected to this room? Legend couldn’t even see a hint of sunlight coming from the entrance.

“You, get the stuff ready,” the not-Sheikah holding Legend ordered. “I’ll need help holding it down-”

Absolutely not. Legend drew the line there, not giving them the chance to draw their sickle before he twisted and bit down on fingers that were only protected by a single layer of fabric. The goon shouted in pain and surprise, fumbling Legend and dropping him. The pink bunny sprinted away, weaving around feet and slipping on wet moss. He was once again thwarted by a shower of hanafuda and two pairs of hands finding purchase on his body.

“You’re as slippery as a banana peel, I’ll give you that!” one of them exclaimed. Legend had lost track of who was who but he supposed that it didn’t matter at this point.

“We’re not even going to kill you!” the other added. “You should consider yourself lucky that you’re a goldmine of magic. Yes, we’ll keep you alive for as long as we can use you, don’t you worry.”

Legend tilted his head to the side, confused. He hadn’t expected them to have actually thought this through. Not that he trusted those sickles for a second. A careless slash could still injure him badly enough to bleed out in minutes.

They carried Legend back to the table, firm hands keeping his head and legs in place. His attempts to kick, twist and bite were easily quashed. The realization that he might not be able to escape set in, along with a looming sense of panic. He had forgotten how his rabbit form intensified fear; his heartbeat increased to an unnaturally fast staccato and his senses were more oversensitive than ever.

The not-Sheikah arranged Legend on the table, keeping him restrained with pressure on his head, back, and legs.

“Hold it still. I don’t want the needle coming out just because you can’t handle a ‘slippery banana peel.’”

Legend skipped a breath, a heartbeat.

He had to have heard that wrong, there was no way-

He managed to turn his head enough to see the third kidnapper, and everything came crashing down.

In one hand, the not-Sheikah held a few small glass vials, empty and waiting for so-called blupee blood.

In the other, an empty syringe with a very long needle on the end.

With a surge of desperate strength, Legend squirmed but the hands only tightened around him. He didn’t have time to weigh the pros and cons; his mouth opened and a frantic stream of words tumbled out.

“Wait, WAIT! I’m not a blupee- I’m not even a magical rabbit at all! You won’t gain anything from my blood!”

The dangerous one paused, peering at Legend through his expressionless mask. “You talk?!”

“Yes, yes- I can talk, and blupees can’t talk, so you can tell that I’m not a blupee after all. Now this is all a big misunderstanding and you can let me go now-”

All three of them started to laugh, and Legend’s heart dropped.

“Let you go? After you just gave away the fact that you can talk? You may not be a blupee, but you have to be a magical bunny of some kind. We’ll find a use for your blood one way or another.” With that, he disappeared from Legend’s line of sight. Legend heard him set the vials near his hind leg, and resumed his futile thrashing.

“No- no- I’m not magical- you don’t have to do this- leave me alone- just let me GO!” Legend wailed, nails digging into the table as he scrabbled for purchase in the wood.

His head was pressed down, his jaw aching as it met the hard surface, limiting his mouth to simple vocalizations.

He couldn’t talk, he couldn’t move-

The not-Sheikah, none too gently, pushed the needle through to Legend’s bloodstream, and all he could do was scream.

Small and helpless and restrained and terrified and screaming-

It was too familiar, too real.

It lasted longer, this time.

Long enough that he almost lost his voice, only the need to express his pain and fear giving him the strength to gulp a desperate breath before continuing.

The not-Sheikah had to reposition the needle a few times, adding an extra layer of horror to the fact that he was leaving it inside for too long as he drew Legend’s blood. Legend tried to pull free, instantly regretting it as he felt the needle scrape inside his leg.

“Quit that,” one of the goons snapped.

Legend whined; it wasn’t like he was willing to try that again.

Eventually he grew lightheaded, gasping for air in between raspy cries. How much blood were they going to take?

“Don’t let go. I’ll open the cage.”

Legend whimpered as the needle was finally removed and set aside. Black spots danced in his vision when he was tossed into the cage, the jarring impact causing him to pass out from exhaustion and pain.

He was roused sometime later by the sound of panic and the smell of lightning. He winced, curling protectively around his leg. Why couldn’t they just leave him alone…

The not-Sheikah were yelling. They were so loud.

“Get out of here! This is our hideout and we’re not letting you have it! We’ve got important research in here and-”

“I’m not in the mood to argue. Either leave now, or this cave will be your grave.”

That… that wasn’t a goon’s voice.

Legend blinked his eyes open, he didn’t dare hope-

The entirety of his view beyond the cage was curtained with royal blue. A familiar scarf, Warriors’ scarf, that Legend would’ve sobbed to see if he had been physically capable of it. Legend couldn’t know if Warriors had even noticed him, and the captain kept his back to him as he presumably stared down the not-Sheikah.

Legend heard the telltale poof of smoke and paper, and saw Warriors visibly relax before taking a step away. Legend yelped and hit the bars of the cage with his paw, and Warriors froze. The captain whirled around, sword still drawn and ready for battle, and Legend cowered as Warriors took a few seconds to register that the threat was simply a bunny. No further recognition appeared in Warriors’ eyes, and Legend was suddenly reminded that he didn’t know.

…Maybe he wouldn’t have to.

Legend stayed silent, scratching at the cage again. Warriors sighed and picked at the lock, calling over his shoulder.

“They’ve got a rabbit in here. No sign of Lege, though…”

A deeper voice answered inquisitively, “A rabbit?”

Oh no. Oh no no no.

“Yes, though I’ve never seen a pink rabbit before. We can release it outside, it doesn’t deserve to go through whatever those idiots were doing to it.” Warriors pulled Legend out of the cage, gently cradling him to his chest. He turned to his companion, whose eyes widened when he saw Legend.

It was Sky. Of course it was Sky. Legend had been humiliated enough, couldn’t he at least shift back in private, where Warriors would be clueless to the fact that he was a coward and a bunny? He bared his teeth at Sky, hoping to relay that now was not a good time.

The birdbrain, unfortunately, did not receive the message. “Um, Wars? That’s… not just a bunny.”

Warriors stiffened, grip tightening around Legend. “What do you mean? Is it another disguised assassin?”

“No, no, he’s- here, let me help.” Sky held the Master Sword out, ignoring Legend’s squirming as he pressed the flat of the blade to a pink paw.

Warriors was unprepared for Legend’s sudden shift to his Hylian form, and the vet slipped out of his hold. Legend crumpled to the ground, biting back a cry of pain as the impact sent shocks of pain up his aching legs. He sat between the other heroes, head bowed and ears down, unwilling to face either of them.

“…Lege?”

Legend opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a broken whimper.

Sky was there, offering Legend a hug that he was too tired to refuse. The vet pressed his face into Sky’s shoulder to hide rising tears, feeling the velvety sailcloth wrapped around him.

“Lege, what happened? We didn’t expect them to be proficient enough with magic to turn you into a rabbit, how-?” Warriors was asking too many questions, focusing on all of the wrong things.

“T-table,” Legend gasped, and Sky repeated it more clearly. Warriors was quiet for a moment, turning back to examine the table that Legend had been pinned on earlier.

“Is this… blood?” Warriors asked, dangerously quiet.

Legend burrowed deeper into Sky’s sailcloth, not bothering to confirm what Warriors already knew.

“Yours?”

Legend whimpered, unable to stop it from turning into a sob. Sky stiffened around him and protectively pulled the sailcloth tighter.

“Sky,” Warriors said, voice shaking with the effort of keeping it steady. “Get him out of here.”

Legend felt Sky nod and shift his arms to support him as he stood. Sky sounded short of breath almost immediately, but he determinedly carried Legend out of the cave.

The click and ignition of Warriors’ borrowed fire rod echoed through the tunnel as Sky’s boots met the transition of dirt to grass. Tears stained the sailcloth, a mixture of sunlight and relief and exhaustion overwhelming Legend all at once. He was still crying when they reached camp, and his brothers rushed to offer potions and sugar and blankets.

Warriors returned soon after, the smell of burnt paper clinging to his scarf as he draped it over Legend’s shoulders. Legend buried his hands in the fabric, grateful for Warriors’ close presence and Sky’s comforting hold.

He was surrounded by his brothers, who wouldn’t let anything happen to him. Finally, Legend felt protected and safe.

#linked universe #lu #linked universe legend #lu legend #linked universe warriors #lu warriors #linked universe sky #lu sky #fable writes #overcome

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torukmaktoskxawng · 11 months

Text

tsamsiyu ta'em - old names, new faces

Masterlist - part two

Summary: Jake is preparing for war while also learning about the arrival of someone he thought he'd never see again

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

Word Count: 4k+

posted on ao3

Taglist: @mooniequeen (Thank you for requesting to be tagged! The fic is up now both on here and on ao3. First chapter was already posted but I went ahead and tagged you there as well!)

Warnings: canon-compliant, canon-typical violence, mature language, adult content, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, alien/human (technically avatar), jake sully sister agenda, time skips, I'm trying to hurry up and get to the good parts so bear with me, fluff, angst, adopted spider, tags to be added

PANDORA, 2169

Jake didn't want to waste a second of time. After General Frances Ardmore sent out a transmission to the natives of Pandora, warning the Na'vi and humans occupying Hell's Gate to surrender the former RDA facility before her arrival, he made sure to abandon it... but not before planting a few bugs.

Listening devices and motion alarms were placed, then Toruk Makto ordered the Na'vi and all humans who live among them to retreat to the forests, and just in time, too. A week later, one of the motion alarms pings and Norm informs Jake immediately. The two launch a small war party and swarm their former headquarters, attacking the RDA retrieval team Ardmore had sent out to inspect Hell's Gate. The foot soldiers were overwhelmed within minutes, and Jake covers Norm -who was using his human form- and Max while the two go through the new bit of technology provided while the other Na'vi and human warriors keep the RDA hostages contained.

Jake crouches until he can fit into the doorway of the control room, assault rifle nestled in his arms, "Think you can do this?"

"Of course not!" Norm snapped, his attitude spiking as he and Max frantically look through the database, "I told you I'm not a hacker, Jake--"

"Alright--"

"--Do you think every scientist has to go through a Hacker Course in the Academy of Code in the Land of Computers just to get into Yale?" Spellman asked sarcastically.

"Got it," Max exclaims without looking away from the screen, "And yes, Norm, that's exactly what happens."

"Dick," Norm muttered, running over to hover over one of Max's shoulders while Jake hovers over both of them in size.

"I'm impressed," Max mentions while looking through the database, "Everything is neat, tidy, brand new--"

"Don't be getting any bright ideas," Jake muttered, one of his dreadlocks moving down his shoulder.

"I'm just saying, though I can easily tell they weren't expecting someone on this moon to be capable of hacking into their data files. I guess we should consider ourselves lucky that they underestimate us. No firewall, no password, not even cookies. Should be easy to download as much intel as we want, but only within that small window before the RDA react and come running when they realize what we're doing."

"Let's start with an inventory count," Jake takes a breath into his oxygen mask, "How many guns and ships are we looking at?"

"Ten shuttles, easily. No telling what each of them carries. Let's see. Missile batteries, gun emplacements. Armed to the teeth. Uh..." Before he could look further, the computer screen freezes and reboots, "Shit."

"What was that?" Norm asked.

"They caught us in their systems. They shut me out."

Jake grits his teeth and his gun, "Max, get back in there."

"I can't!"

"Try! And when you get back in, try and at least download any information they got on Ardmore and what she's planning before the system shuts down again. Forget the weaponry."

Max huffs, anxiously blinking away the sweat dripping down his forehead and fogging up his glasses. He furiously works as the three men start shuffling nervously, man and Na'vi alike. The computer makes a new sound and Max smiles brightly, "I got it, I got it! 'System is back up and running!"

Jake huffs out a bit of air before pressing into his throat microphone, "Alright, people, we got five minutes before the RDA realizes Hell's Gate is back online and responds. Let's go, let's go!"

Max begins to download files under titles he thinks are important. He catches names like Ardmore, Na'vi, Bridgehead, and Avatar. Out of curiosity, he clicks the last one and a name pops up, one that Max has to read over and over again before he grasps it, "Jake... does the name Makayla Sully ring a bell?"

Jake felt as though someone had just punched him in the gut, spinning back toward Max and the computer, "What did you just say?"

Max transfers the information from the computer screen and onto his datapad with just his hand motion and a flick of the wrist. He reads the name out loud again before Jake crotches over his and snatches the tablet from his hands, "Gimme that."

The former human now olo'eykan nearly stood to full height, forgetting he was too big for a human-made compound, and bonked his head. He grimaced and his eyes trail over the data file, reading it once, twice, the name sticking to the forefront of his mind for the first time in years. A picture attached to the file draws out his reaction, his breath was nearly taken away, "Holy shit."

"Relative?" Max asked.

Norm looked at the name from the original computer screen and noticed the picture attached to it, eyes growing comically wide, "Oh, shit. That's his sister."

Max looked between Jake and Norm, eyes wide in shock and sympathy while Norm read the file out loud, "'Corporal Makayla Sully. Avatar driver.' You know, Tom mentioned something about his sister showing interest in joining the Marine Corps. She might be here because of you."

He says this last part to Jake and immediately begins to sputter and backtrack when Jake's ears lowered, "I-I-I mean-! Not that it's your fault or anything--"

"Gunships inbound!" A voice is heard over the radio, warning the three men in the control room.

"Shit, they're early!" Max proclaims while grabbing the datapad from Jake along with the rest of their things.

His shock now shattered, the marine part of Jake takes over and he grabs his assault rifle again, "Go, get outta here!"

He lets Norm and Max run out in front of him while they frantically pull their exo-masks and packs on. Jake takes up the rear and together they run out of the Hell's Gate facility. Outside, other Na'vi and humans await them, calling and whooping out in warning at the sounds of gunship blades coming from a distance. Jake hears the familiar echo of Neytiri's call and he runs in that direction, finding his ikran waiting for him alongside his mate and her mount. Jake forms the tsaheylu and jumps up onto Bob's back, waiting until he's sure Max and Norm have jumped into their respective gunship before shouting the order to leave and scatter, instructing his people in the radio to rendevous to make sure no one was followed before returning home. The entire way back, his mind was troubled, clouded, and angry, the name and picture still haunting the forefront of his mind.

~~~~~~~~~

BRIDGEHEAD CITY, RDA STRONGHOLD

She woke up that morning with a headache, feeling uncomfortable pressure behind her eyes and forcing her to close them again.

But Makayla didn't want to close them. She didn't want to go back to her dream, the one she had been having for a while now, even in her cryosleep. After waking from that hibernation, they had told her that it wasn't possible. You can't dream in cryosleep. She decided not to question it further, afraid that some doctor would find her mentally unwell and send her back to Earth when she had only just arrived on Pandora. So Kayla kept her mouth shut, never mentioning the ocean waves she remembered flying over in her dream, bluer and cleaner than she had ever seen back home.

The woman stood up and got ready for the day, alone and basking in the silence of her one-bedroom quarters stationed in Bridgehead City. Gelling her hair back to fit into a bun and donning her uniform, she tucks her tank top into her standard-issue army-style pants and combat boots before throwing over her jacket. Grabbing her exopack and spare, she headed out into this new world, reporting to the control room of this vastly growing city.

No one looked up from their duties when she entered the control room, but she looked on and made a beeline for the person she was meant to report to, keeping her posture stiff and back straight when she stood behind another woman in uniform, saluting her in respect, "General Ardmore."

An older, blonde-haired woman, hiding said hair under a hat turned at her name, hands behind her back while nodding down to the younger woman, "Corporal Sully. How was your beauty sleep?"

"Well rested and ready to go, ma'am."

"Excellent. Right this way."

Moving from the control room, Ardmore leads her new recruit into the bio-lab, crossing over to an amino tank, tapping the glass, and turning back to address the corporal, "So this is your vehicle here."

Makayla stepped forward, staring into the tank and inspecting her new ride. She paused, nearly stunned at the floating Na'vi-looking woman in the tank. The creature's eyes were closed, frowning, curled around herself like a fetus in the womb, but still obviously much taller than her human counterpart. She twitched occasionally, but otherwise never acknowledged her avatar driver's presence. Makayla refrained from touching the glass but stood in awe while inspecting the avatar's face. Pale blue skin with darker blue stripes, thin, dark eyebrows, a small flat nose, and long ears pinned to her skull. Makayla had the urge to touch her own cheekbones and small lips when looking at what was essentially a reflection. She recognized certain features on the avatar that was definitely hers whenever she looked into a mirror, astonished at how well-designed her Na'vi body looked to mirror her human self.

Ardmore didn't appear to notice Makayla's amazement, droning on while slowly swarming the tank, inspecting the creature inside with an upturned nose, "She's not much but it'll be passable. You've read up on avatar training, have you?"

Kayla's spell is broken and she straightens her posture, looking dutifully ahead and not at her avatar, "Yes, ma'am. Enough to know the controls."

"Good. Have you logged in time on the simulator?"

"Yes, though not as much as I wish I could. I still get nauseous."

Ardmore nods, "Time and gravity are different here, Corporal. From what I hear, it'll help with the brain link. Now I know I said when I first recruited you that this would be a simple in-and-out extraction, but things have changed and now the real test is whether or not you can adapt to that."

Kayla keeps her eyes forward despite wanting to show the general her determination, "I can adapt to anything you throw at me, General."

"I like to hear it." Ardmore moves her hand to pat Makayla's arm almost robotically, but the corporal took the hint and followed the general back outside, never daring to look back at her avatar. After instructing her recruit to follow suit and throw on an exopack, the two women step outside, casually strolling together on the catwalk standing high above the city. Ardmore points out to the jungle far beyond the dry landscape circling around the city, "Now, with the plan to bring the majority of humanity here, I need soldiers out there learning to adapt and become experts in this new world we intend to call home. Unfortunately, this atmosphere and environment aren't really friendly to our kind, hence why we formed the Kill Zone."

"The Kill Zone?"

"It's what that barren two-mile-wide field is. It surrounds the city to keep the native lifeforms at a safe distance. Everything here-- the plants, the animals, they want to kill us. So for now, we use the Kill Zone to keep them away and regularly treat it with herbicides to keep anything from growing."

"And to keep anything from attacking?"

"That's what the automated weapons surrounding the city wall are for, Corporal. We're not taking any chances, but we can't be in the defensive position forever. Eventually, we'll have to fight back. With the entire flora and fauna of this moon wanting to attack us, we need to compromise it. Hence why we brought back the Avatar Program. We need avatar soldiers whose DNA will not trigger this moon's immune response. With new soldiers trained for the most hostile environments, we believe that if we link them with these avatars, we can assess and observe whether or not it will be easy for normal civilians to take on avatars."

Kayla's stone expression slips temporarily, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, "You want everyone to have an avatar eventually?"

Ardmore shrugs while tapping on the glass of her mask, "Humanity can't adapt overnight. If we want this place to be our new home, we'll need to be able to breathe the air and hunt and gather resources safely. Unfortunately, it is unclear how long a human could possibly link to their avatar before they have to disconnect. That is where you come in. We'll be testing this experiment through you. Any questions?"

"Just one, General." She hesitates as Ardmore turns to her, but Kayla blinks, rolls her lips, and says it anyway, "My brother's remains. When will I be able to go and search for them?"

A shadow passes the older woman's eyes before it retreats to the corners of her whites. Kayla knew it was a stupid question to ask, but Ardmore's usual stone voice changed to ice cold and she answered it anyway, "Once the labcoats are confident you can withstand longer link periods, we'll fly you out and drop you off at your brother's last known whereabouts before he was deemed killed in action. Understand that we can't waste a ton of manpower on this impossible body retrieval, but a deal's a deal. I'll send you out and send you a ride home once you call it in, but that's it. Otherwise, you're on your own, Corporal."

"Yes, ma'am. I understand."

~~~~~~~~~

HIGH CAMP, OMATIKAYA STRONGHOLD

The war party returns to their stronghold in the Hallelujah Mountains, and Jake's mind is still far away from him. After landing his ikran and breaking the bond, he felt his feet moving over to Max after the scientist hopped off the gunship with the same war paint Trudy's ship bore as a tribute. Jake easily towers over Max, asking him if he could have a look at the datapad he carried with their newly acquired information. Max flashed a look of understanding before handing the tablet over and walking away without another word.

Jake turned to leave as well, only he did so in the direction of his mate. Neytiri broke away from her ikran when she noticed Toruk Makto approaching her with a troubled look on his face, her ears stiffening at the sense of something being wrong.

"Ma Jake--"

"I have something to tell you," he gently cuts her off, and something in Neytiri's stomach drops, "Something I never told you before."

Subtly and easing into conversation had never been her husband's strongest suit. Neytiri felt cold and slightly fearful while staring down her mate, conflicted, trying to figure out what he could've hidden from her. It wasn't the first time he lied to her, earning her trust and betraying her, even when he had the best intentions. Over the years, Neytiri learned to forgive her mate for his past mistakes, including the one that concluded the death of her father and the destruction of her home. Still, hearing Jake admit that he hasn't told her everything made her heart sink with worry.

Nodding off to the side, she moves away from the campsite and Jake dutifully follows. Once they were out of earshot, she silently turned to him and folds her arms, waiting for him to spill, and he does, "I have a sister. Her name is Makayla."

Her tail curls in attention, lips parting in a silent gasp as she stares at him in disbelief, "You... you told me you had a twin brother."

"Yeah, I did. Tommy," Jake indicated toward himself, "This body was meant to be his avatar before he died and I took his place."

"And your sister?" The words felt strange on her tongue, her mind not yet convinced that Jake even has another sibling, much less a sister, "Why tell me now?"

His eyes swam with guilt, an emotion he knows better than to hide from his wife. Neytiri hadn't seen guilt like that on his face ever since he accidentally stepped on Little Kiri's tail and made her scream bloody murder. His eyes were wide and sad as if he had just accidentally killed the most beautiful, innocent creature in the world most sacred to Eywa. He looked as though he had betrayed Neytiri's trust all over again after telling her the truth behind the Sky People wanting the Omatikaya to leave Hometree. Decades worth of sadness and regret were evident in his eyes and aged him beyond his years, "Because she's here, with the Sky People."

He swipes across the screen of the datapad and offers the tablet to her. Neytiri stepped closer and caught sight of a picture on the screen. It was the picture of a human woman, with a blank expression as she stared directly into the camera head-on. She was middle-aged at most, likely more around Neytiri's age than Jake's, but she carried her shoulders and eyes to appear much older, kind of like how Jake looked now when examining the picture.

Neytiri is not sure what the Sky People deemed 'pretty' among their own species, so she didn't bother complimenting the picture, especially since she wouldn't have meant it. "That is her?"

"Yeah."

"Why is she here?"

Jake scrolls down the screen as he read, "This file mentions that she was recruited for the next step in the avatar program. Which means she'll most likely have a Na'vi body of her own."

Her eyes narrow but she doesn't say a word against the statement. 'Na'vi' is a loose term when it comes to the Sky People creating avatar bodies to walk among Neytiri's people. They never got certain features right, such as their hands and eyes. However, Neytiri can't find it within herself to be disgusted by those features anymore, not like she used to. Not when the man she fell in love with had those same features. Not when one of her sons and adopted daughter bore those same features. It was hard for Neytiri to imagine what an avatar would look like for Jake's sister and part of her didn't want to find out.

"What is the plan?" She sternly asked her husband, carefully watching his eyes, "Hm? What do you want to do?"

His ears are still lowered, definitely sensing the distrust in Neytiri's voice while he carefully answered, "I want to grab her and pull her out of there."

"Jake." She pitied her husband, detecting the hope in his eyes and she hated the fact that she must be the one to squash it, "Your sister is of the Sky People."

"So was I. Once," he tucked the datapad under his arm and placed both of his hands on her shoulders, keeping their eyes locked as he gently spoke, "But everything changed when I met you. If I can meet with her, I'm sure I can convince her to stay with us."

"... Older or younger than you?"

"Younger." He knew by then, he had won his wife over. Her tail flicked with curiosity at his answer along with her eyes before she tried her best to mask it. Both of them knew what the other was thinking, and the Na'vi woman was currently thinking about how much she missed her own sister. "Neytiri... I let her down once. I can't do it again."

"... And you won't."

~~~~~~~~~

Over the next few weeks, Makayla had been syncing with her avatar and learning how to move in her new body before heading out of the safety of the city. She kept close at first, not wanting to push it, and went one day at a time. Eventually, one mile became two, and after the first couple of weeks, she had branched out to a couple of hundred leagues. Thankfully, there weren't any mirrors out in the wilds of Pandora. She still had difficulty looking at her reflection, not expecting blue skin, big ears, and yellow eyes. However, she appreciated the new body in other ways, such as speed and agility. Kayla managed to pull stunts that she could have never done back home, least of all in her own body.

With the speedy progress she was making, Ardmore and the RDA scientists granted her permission to venture out days at a time, entrusting her with a radio and food rations but not much else per Ardmore's warning of little supplies available to be wasted. Makayla didn't mind. She had plenty of training to prepare her for survival, and although those survival tips were meant to help her thrive in climates unfamiliar to Pandora, she considered this as a challenge.

There were well-known sites of Pandora in the RDA database, stretched around familiar areas and marked as 'forbidden'. Kayla found herself at some of these sites, thinking of the possibility of finding her brother's body in these marked places. She had gone to Hell's Gate but found nothing other than whatever was left abandoned there. RDA had already cleared out what had been left by Na'vi and their human sympathizers that Ardmore warned Kayla about... though they took heavy losses because Hell's Gate had been rigged before their arrival. Unbeknownst to Kayla, she herself had set off an alarm when scavenging through the old military base, but she never saw or heard anything. The alarm had gone off elsewhere, far out into the floating mountains hundreds of miles away.

Taking her time around the abandoned base, Kayla kept her rifle under her arm and her newly-acquired, sensitive ears on high alert, turning this way and that at even the slightest of sounds. So of course, she immediately hears the sounds of bird screeches, only... they sound bigger, coming closer with multiples echoing off each other, along with the heavy sounds of large wings.

Kayla immediately takes cover, hiding in a large hangar meant to store gunships during those violent electrical storms she was warned about. Trying to make herself small by pressing against the wall as tight she could, she tried to calm her breath and slow down her heartbeat as she hears the thunderous sounds of dozens of large animals landing on the ground. Kayla could feel the stomps with her own two feet, not liking the idea of the danger being so close, she made sure her weapon was loaded, trying to stay quiet.

"Fan out! No lethals. We capture alive."

A loud voice booms and it's echoed by several yips and calls of acknowledgment. Makayla tried counting but lost count after six. Multiple footsteps can be heard scattering around the entire facility, and to her horror, a handful was coming in Kayla's direction. She takes a deep breath, willing herself to calm down. Slowly, carefully, she turns on her heels until she's fully facing the open hangar door, hoisting her rifle up until she's able to peek into the sights. She was ready to take out whoever came through that door, her eyes flickering down at the long shadows slowly approaching the doorway.

Too bad she had no one to cover her six because, with one flick of her ear, she realized her mistake. Spinning around, she's met with a swift kick of someone's leg, throwing her back and forcing her hands to let go of her gun, letting the weapon skitter across the floor. Kayla grunts at the impact, trying to quickly scurry to her feet as loud war cries echo all around her, bouncing off the walls of the empty hangar. Standing up and unsheathing her knife, she's completely surrounded by Na'vi, snarls and hisses being spat at her feet while having dozens of weaponry pointed at her. Spears, arrows, knives... even heavy artillery of human-make, like a shoulder-held grenade launcher. Kayla had to admit, that made her pause and stare oddly at the Na'vi warrior holding a weapon she was more familiar with before the sound of more people running into the hangar drew her attention away.

Kayla spun around at all the people surrounding her, pointing her knife at each of them as she screamed, "Stay back!"

They only hiss or ululate in response, glaring sharply at the female marine with bright yellow eyes that now match hers. They begin to close in around her, tightening up their formation, and she could feel her heart beginning to sink to her stomach as she gripped her knife tighter.

"Waitwaitwait! Hold your fire!"

The Na'vi all pause, slowly calming down and some break out of the circle to make way for their leader. Or, at least, that's who Kayla figured this particular male Na'vi was. He looked like the leader, with his war paint and many feather and beads adorning the braids of his hair and loincloth. However, there was something about his attire that made him stand out and that was the army-green vest, clearly of human fashion. Kayla fully turned to face the Na'vi male, her eyes briefly shifting to the side when a Na'vi female walked close behind him, otherwise, Kayla kept her eyes forward and focused on the leader.

The leader appeared hesitant, even hopeful, his ears flicking curiously to the side while closely inspecting her, "What's your name?"

She clocks in on the accent, recognizing the clear words to be something from her home world. And... oddly, it sounded familiar, though she couldn't place it. Lookely closely, she realized that this Na'vi was different from the others, apart from the fashion. This leader bore five digits on each hand and bore eyebrow hairs, much like herself. This wasn't a Na'vi at all. This was an avatar.

"... You sound American. You know English."

He flashed a brief smirk of amusement, "I know a lot more than that. Your name?"

She shifts her gaze around at all the Na'vi people staring menacingly at her. What harm could her first name be? "Makayla."

Something deflates in the leader's posture and expression. Shock and relief mix together in his eyes, "Jesus. It really is you."

Her eyebrows furrow, head tilting ever so slightly with curiosity, "Do I know you?"

"Kayla, it's me. It's Jake."

Her entire posture stiffens, face freezing in the expression of curiosity. She didn't move a muscle let alone remember to breathe, eyes only ever staring at the leader ahead of her, now calling himself Jake. Slowly, she takes a careful step forward, growing nervous, inspecting the man's face every time she stepped closer to get a better look. Jake's posture continued to soften, trying not to appear intimidating so that she would bravely step up to him. As she got closer, Jake clearly recognized her in certain features her avatar inherited, but he didn't voice it. Instead, he remained patient, letting his sister take her time.

What he wasn't expecting, however, was when she got close enough, Kayla quickly reached out and grabbed him, roughly spinning him around and holding him in front of her body like a shield while yelps and hollers of distress sound out all around the pair. The Na'vi all cry out in warning as they raise their weapons once more, becoming infuriated when Kayla remembered her knife and pressed the blade against Jake's neck, snarling into his ear, "How the hell do you know my brother's name?!"

"Kayla--"

"Tell me!"

Neytiri's bow was raised, an arrow aimed directly at Kayla's head, but she appeared hesitant, "Ma Jake--"

Jake lifted his arms out to his people, trying to block Kayla from their weapons, "Hold! Hold! Don't hurt her."

When none of them moved, Jake tried his best to talk down to the woman currently holding him hostage. Height wise she was a couple of inches shorter than him, but the knife pressed into his skin told Jake that height clearly didn't matter, "Kayla... calm down. It's me, I swear."

Her voice cracked, but in rage or distress, Jake wasn't sure of, "No, you're lying. My brother was killed in action!"

He grimaced, "That's likely a lie the RDA came up with for insurance reasons. There's a lot you don't know but if you--" her knife knocked his skin in warning, but he forced his words out, this time louder and less calm, "if you would just let me explain!"

"You're not him!" She screamed in his ear, her breaths becoming irregular, "You're not-- you can't be--"

"I can prove it," he spoke sternly, confidently, getting right down to the point, "You tried wine for the first time when you were sixteen, stealing a small glass from Mom. Instead of spitting it out, you tried finishing the glass like an idiot because Tommy told you not to. Mom and Dad locked you in the bathroom the next day because you were so sick and they made him clean it up because he didn't stop you."

The whole world felt as though it paused mid-rotation, the ground, and sky beneath them holding their breath, awaiting a response. He couldn't see her face, but Jake noticed the grip around her knife had loosened a fraction, and it was slowly moving away from his neck. Slowly, he slipped out of her hold by his own accord, slowly turning around so as not to spook her. Kayla's knife clatters to the ground and Neytiri forces herself to relax, lowering her bow and nodding for the others to follow suit.

Makayla studies Jake's face more closely this time, depicting certain features that she recognized to belong to a Sully, in some way shape or form. She couldn't explain how she knew... but it was the same reason why she was able to identify her avatar as her own, knowing certain features stem from both avatar and human form.

"Jake..." She exhaled under her breath, her voice quieter than before. Kayla took a step closer and the Na'vi people shuffled nervously. Jake kept perfectly still, remaining under her observation until something clicked behind her eyes like the gears had just suddenly shifted into place. Her eyes widen in shock, relief, and above all, joy, "Jake!"

She jumps into his arms, her full body shaking being the only sign of the woman ever crying.

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged, lemme know!

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motherloads · 4 months

Text

My Love Mine all Mine

I kept rewriting this idea. Is it good? Probs not. But, did I need something to fuel me? Yes. Ahm, it was supposed to be happy but. Ig I'm in a sad mood.

This fic was SO close to being named "Glimpse of Us." But there is no other man or woman that they're with so it didn't match.

Probs OOC Simon.

Summary: Simon always dreams of you. He isn't sure why. But, you're always so sweet. But, you aren't real. He's never seen you before. He doesn't know your name. He knew you were caring. Dream him, he felt the love he held for you. From a mission gone wrong, he finds himself in your home. He convinced himself you weren't real. But how could he lie to himself when he can feel your skin under his hands? He has you now.

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley/Reader

Other Tags: Scarlet Witch! Reader, Marvel/COD Crossover

Never proof read.

⋆｡°✩

My baby, here on earth. Showed me what my heart was worth. So, when it comes to be my turn. Could you shine it down here for her?

“You’re a good boy, Simon.” The voice whispers to him, their fingers running over his mask quietly. “Such a good boy.” They leave a soft kiss, where his mouth should be. He doesn’t reciprocate, but he almost feels the need to. He hears them softly giggle, but he doesn’t quite open his eyes. He didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to see who it was.

Who were they? Why were they treating him like this? Why wasn’t he stopping them?

The thoughts that ran in his mind increased as time went on, as they began running their soft and delicate fingers on his neck, to his shoulders, on his arms. Until their hands found his own. They held him, bringing his hands to their mouth. They leave small kisses. He felt the residue of gloss stay.

“I’ll see you soon, Simon. Calm down.” They whisper, pulling away. He chases after their warmth, running his hands on the side of their hips, squeezing tightly. They felt so real.

This time, he opens his eyes to try and see who they were. He only sees the outline of a woman. He couldn’t see her clearly, but he could see the light wisps of red surrounding her. He said nothing as his eyes closed again.

This was just a dream. He would wake up soon enough.

The little he slept should not have bothered him. Usually, it doesn’t. He could easily avoid sleeping or eating without facing the repercussions. One of the many he was trained to learn and endure. But somehow, this did bother him. It felt as if he hadn’t slept at all. He felt, the rare occasions when the women visited, she drained almost everything he stored for the missions. She bothered him. He has never met her before. So why was she constantly bothering him?

His constant questions were cut off when Soap nudged him with his shoulder. He hears him, “You okay, L.T.?” He grunts in response, moving forward.

They were on a mission, he shouldn't be distracted. But he is. He shouldn’t be thinking about the woman who does not exist. She is merely a figment of his imagination. Unreal. He knew he would never experience this. He couldn’t experience this. He would not allow himself to. He couldn’t be distracted.

Somehow he is. His thoughts, a hindrance to his capabilities and warrior in the battlefield. He hears Soaps shouts, Laswell in his ear. He hears Gaz, alongside Price. He could hear them, but he couldn’t see them. How could things go so wrong? He coughs, surrounded by smoke. He gets separated. At some point, he feels two bullets knick him. With the surrounding sounds, Soap's voice getting more scattered, he feels his breathing become more shallow.

He’s inside a building, surveying one of the bullets. There was no exit wound, as he slightly hissed in annoyance from the pain blossoming. He’s focused on the blood pouring out, having no necessary tools to remove the bullet. He lifts up his head, looking around for anything to assist him. He freezes, seeing small eyes peer at him in curiosity. Her eyes lingered, twiddling her thumbs as she continued to watch Simon.

He didn’t know there were still civilians in this area.

“You’re not like Tony Stark, are you?” She carefully questions, hesitantly stepping closer to the man. He shuffles back in response, refusing to respond to the kid. Her questions did raise his own.

She doesn’t take his silence as an answer, “She doesn’t like men like you.” She continues, rubbing her hands on her dirty pants. Her red shirt, riddled with dirt, had blotches of dried blood.

“Where are your parents, kid?” He rasps, “Go back to them before you get hurt.”

“I’m already hurt.” She frowns, shaking her head at the man, “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what.” He growls, leaning his head back. He shuts his eyes, trying to rid his headache.

“She’ll hurt you,” was all the girl said. When Simon opened his eyes again, she was gone.

It’s silent again. Too silent. The blood loss increased, the smoke from before affecting him more than it should have.

Maybe that is what she wanted.

His strength is wavering. If he loses consciousness, he fears he may see her again. He didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

He accepts it, though. Waiting to feel the hint of eerie calmness before the storm hits.

You watch him sleep, silently patching his wounds up. The bullets were gone, by your courtesy. You hum a familiar tone quietly, one of the corny shows you loved watching when you were younger. You glance at the man with the mask, tilting your head as you reach out to run your fingers down the outline of the skull. He doesn’t move. You pull away to glance at the array of guns on your kitchen table. Then, you look at the woman, sitting deep in thought, running her own hands through the book she was reading.

The Scarlet Witch looks up, feeling the eyes on her. She doesn’t say anything, looking back down at the book in front of her. She acted as if the book held all the secrets known to man. But you knew.

It was simply a new recipe book.

You turn back to the man, although unsure of his name and why you found him ways away from the battle currently going on. You didn’t bother to read his mind. Maybe you should have, to make sure he would not hurt you. (As if he was capable of doing so with your abilities.) But, if he was with the men who had started this battle, then you would kill him with a flick of your hand.

The Scarlet Witch herself, with the whispers in your ear, convinced you to bring the man into your home. You were one and the same, but sometimes you felt the Scarlet Witch left important information out.

Your thoughts get cut off, when the man suddenly coughs, breathing heavily from the residue of smoke you found in his lungs. You grab the water bottle, pushing it up to the man who pushed your hand away. You feel his glaring through his mask, as he pushes himself off the couch and away from you.

“Careful there,” You warn, "Don’t want to pull your stitches.” You open the water, hearing the click. To show it wasn’t tampered with, you take a sip. Then, you extended it back to him. He still refuses to take it, despite how constant he needed to clear his throat. You put it down on the table. It was weird, doing the exact same thing your captors used to do to you.

The Scarlet Witch was long gone. Leaving the book unopened and on the page she left off on.

You see the man glance at the guns on the kitchen table. Then, he looks back at you. Quickly, he goes to snatch the closest one to him. He points it at you, gesturing for you to put your hands up. He only held the gun in one hand, holding his side with the other. “What did you do to me?”

You say nothing. Simon grows irritated, his voice raising, “I said. What did you do to me!” He grips the gun tighter, “If you don’t answer in five seconds, I’m putting a bullet through your head.” “I didn’t do anything,” You calmly respond, “Calm down.” He freezes at your words, grasping at the familiar words he has heard before.

“It’s you,” He breathes, “You’re the woman.” You furrow your brows in confusion, tilting your head at his realization. You didn’t recognize the man.

“I’m sorry? I’m unsure of what you’re entailing.” You murmur to the man. “Sit down. Put the gun down and explain it to me?” You smile softly, letting yourself slightly manipulate his decision. Hesitantly, Simon sits. He puts the gun down.

He isn’t sure why he followed your words.

“You-” He cuts himself off, wincing from the wound you had just finished dressing before he woke up, “You took out the bullets?” You confirm with a hum. He sees your fingers twitch. Sees you run your hands together, as if nervous.

“You were bleeding to death.” Is all you said. “I found you that way.” You glance at the flag on his chest, pursing your lips, you look back up to him, “You were the ones sent to infiltrate? I’ve seen the ones before you. Many deaths.”

Simon doesn’t respond, instead, he leans with his own questions, “Who are you?”

You introduce yourself, from there Simon doesn’t say anything else. You wait for him to say his name, but he says nothing.

“What is your name?” You question.

“You should already know,” He shot back, “You always say it.” You shake your head in response, smiling sadly at the man you still did not recognize. The only man of significance in your head, has been dead for quite some time.

Maybe not in this Universe. But in another, you had lost your other half long ago.

“I don’t.”

“You’re the woman. In my dreams. You’re always…There. I have never seen your face until now. But I know your voice,” He growls, his fingers twitching to hold something. Anything. He holds his knees tightly in response.

You shake your head, “I’m sorry. I don’t know you.” You insisted, Standing up, you brush a strand of your hair away. Your hairstyle had gone haywire from how unkept you left it. You see no humans, you had no reason to do anything anymore.

Maybe you should have cut it like Natasha.

Shaking your head, you push the water to the man still sitting down. “Heal. You will need it once you leave.” You pause, looking at the guns still on display on your kitchen table. “None have bullets, by the way.” Smiling, you leave the clueless man to his own devices.

You learn that the man has taken on the name Ghost. Nothing else, just Ghost. You constantly felt his presence in your home, but he never pushed for more conversation. You could tell that he was trying to find his bullets. Anything. But, you continued with your daily chores. From maintaining your garden, feeding the animals. Hell, even nursing the mother and her kittens who found comfort in your home. You worked on anything.

You run your hands through the clothing you were washing. The soap increased as you continued to lather through the grime from constantly being in the garden. You feel a presence near you, watching you. You glance at Ghost, his familiar mask peering down at you. He still wore the same clothes.

“I have clothes that can fit you, if you’d like to take a shower. No offense, but you’re starting to reek.” You smile at him, continuing on rubbing the dirt off of your clothing.

He doesn’t respond, but you do see his head tilt in question. “You know where my room is. It’s the bottom drawer.” He disappears soon after, taking you up on the offer.

It’s quiet, only the chirps of the birds and your animals. You move on to letting your clothing air dry. Wiping the sweat off of your forehead, you nod to yourself at the job. At that moment, Ghost returns. You look at the outfit, seeing a familiar long sleeve and sweats.

“Husbands?” He asks gruffly, the shirt being tight on his figure. The sweatpants, surprisingly fit him. The ones you made to appear out of thin air.

“No,” You begin dumping the water out, “He’s long gone.”

Ghost felt inclined to help you. He knew he had overextended his stay, but he couldn't help it. He needed to know more about you. Who you were. What you did for a living. Why you never left him alone. He needed to know before he left. He convinced himself, that he would be the one leaving willingly.

Even with the little he slept, he still had the dreams of you. It was just you. Sometimes, you said little things that made his heart hurt.

"You are my sadness and you are my hope. But mostly, you're my love." You murmured to him, running your hands through his hair. His face was uncovered, as you smiled down at him from your place on his lap. You kiss his forehead, eyes glimmering in pure love at him. Your love, for him.

"You could never hurt me," You're below him this time, your hand reaching out to lay on his cheek. The same exact look on your face. The same one as always that he continued to love with all his heart. He sees his hands stay on your hips, pulling you closer as your laughs filled the room.

He never says anything in these dreams, always afraid to ruin the moment. But, even if he tried to, he felt he was never in control of the dreams he lived through.

One, stuck to him deeply. Once again, you were touching him. He felt like crying--No. He was crying. It wasn't a breakup or anything. It wasn't anything sad. No. "They're twins, Simon." You whispered, a smile on your face as you brought his rough hands onto your stomach. "Boys." He holds you closer in this dream, shaking as you soothed him. His head lay in the crook of your neck, soaking your turtleneck with his tears. He felt what dream Simon felt.

He was ready for the twins.

Throughout this time, he continued to follow you, sometimes helping you hold your items when asked. He collected the eggs quietly, like you asked him to. Even when one of cows was prepared to have their own, he helped.

“The dreams people have are the glimpses of the other lives they could have lived. The appearances of the other Universes,” You spoke calmly, seasoning the meat you were preparing to cook for dinner, “I’ve had dreams where I was a zombie. Another where I died in a burst of red.”

You pause, moving the meat to the stove. You watched it sizzle. “I’ve heard the voices of my sons calling out for me.” You calmly say, smiling sadly, thinking of the voices of the two boys who asked you for help. Who begged for their mom.

"Sons?" He asks.

"Twins," You confirm. "I was a twin once." He keeps that information to himself, seeing your smile that twitched.

“What are you trying to say?” Ghost questions, taking over on cooking the meat. You stand behind him.

“The dreams that you’ve had of me. They’re real.” Is what you say, moving on to the salad you were going to prepare, “I reckon that’s one of the little that I have seen where I am happy. Where I haven’t experienced or done all that I have done.” You hum, “You must think I’m crazy.”

“I’ve known the minute you brought me into your home.” Ghost responds, his back turned to you. “I’m inclined to believe you.” “Why?” You question him.

“The books you’ve tried to hide for one thing. You like Witchcraft?”

You giggle at his words at first. Then, it turns into a full blown laugh as you double over. He ignores you, focusing on the meat in front of him.

“Nothing is lost in your eyes, are they?” You stifle your laughter, running your hand down your mouth. You held the collar of your shirt, pressing lightly over your beating heart.

“The ruins around your home cannot be ignored.” He gruffly responds, shaking his head with a sigh, “Your home is in a vast clearing, but I have seen nobody pass through. The only animals evident are the ones you own.”

“You’re quite certain that I’m a Witch. What if I simply enjoy the crafts? I’m just superstitious,” You giggle, pushing the salad aside as you move to sit on the counter to watch him cook the meat.

He wouldn’t try to hurt you, he would know better. He stays silent, unsure how to respond to your question or how to confirm what he knows. You take the silence as an answer. Instead of continuing the conversation, you reach out to the side of his balaclava. One of his hands shoots out, effectively stopping you from touching it. You only smile back, not moving your hand away from his grip. He carefully lets go, as your hands run on the little seams you can see. You continue onto the outline of the skull. Running down to his shoulder, the soft cotton of the clothing he was borrowing moved under your motions.

You felt real.

You ran your hand down to his arms, swirling it in a specific motion that caused shivers down his spine. From the hand not focusing on the meat, you let your fingers intertwine.

"It's unfair to dream of the world we deserve. The life we deserve. It's unfair others live the life that we have yearned for our whole lives." You stare down at your conjoined hands. You rub your thumb atop his covered hand.

“Such a good boy.” You murmur, bringing his hand to your lap. He doesn’t say anything. His free hand gripping onto the meat he had now deemed ready to remove. When he turns off the stove, he provides his full attention to you. He turns his body to you, but he still doesn’t say anything.

You bring your other hand to his covered cheek, he slightly leans into your touch. He was almost there, but not quite close. You smooth the creases using your thumb. Simon closes his eyes.

“Simon,” He grunts quietly, “Simon Riley.”

It’s as if he can sense your smiling. Your hands do not stop from how you continued to touch him.

“You’re a good boy, Simon,” You murmur, his breath hitches from your comment.

He’s fully leaning into your hand, bringing his head down onto your forehead. You hum a tune unfamiliar to him, but familiar to you. When you released your hand from his own, he didn’t expect you to hold both sides of his covered face.

He feels the ghost of your lips in between his eyes. Then, he feels it near the corner of his left eye. You move on to the right. Then to his nose.

He stills when your lips ghost his own.

“I wish we can stay together, Simon,” You whisper, moving away from his lips. He could still feel your breath, though. “Love is not possible for me. It never will be.”

“Why?” He places both of his hands over yours, squeezing, “Why?” He repeats.

“I”m undeserving of this. What I have done, the lives lost because of me. I have lost everything before. I bring Chaos wherever I go. Why do you think I live isolated? I’m not risking your life,” You leave one last peck on his clothed mouth.

“This was a mistake.”

He opens his eyes, immediately noticing the unshed tears. You smile at him sadly, “You are a dream.” “I just feel you.”

Simon remembers nothing else but your warmth. The last thing he sees is the red surrounding his head. The red wisps resonating from your palms.

"You'll grieve. It will be bad," You whisper in his ear. Everything is dark. It's so dark. Why can't he see anything? Where are you?" "But what is grief, if not love persevering?"

When he awakens, he is surrounded by medical equipment. Immediately, he stands up, looking around frantically. From his movement, he startles Soap awake. Despite being groggy, Soap immediately goes to his side, pushing him back down.

“Ay, get back down L.T., You’re not well,” The Scottish man reprimands, struggling to get Simon to calm down, “We found ya surrounded by dead bodies. Jeez, ya put up a fight.”

“Where is she,” Simon rasps, his voice felt like he hadn’t spoken in ages, “Where is she, Johnny?”

“Who?” Soap questions, “There was no lass around.”

“I was-” Simon continues to struggle, “She’s real. I know she’s real.”

As if he could hear Soap’s struggle, Price enters the room, immediately going to help Soap. When they have Simon restrained, he is still breathing heavily.

“Where is she?” Simon continues to ask, his eyes searching everywhere for a glimpse of her. Just her. Where is she?

He needed her. He needed to see her. She was real. He knows she was real. He felt her. He knows her.

“I need her,” His eyes, so far away, look out the window as a wisp of red leaves him from the corner of his eyes.

She’s real.

He just felt you.

#crossover #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #call of duty #x reader #ghost x f!reader #simon ghost riley

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