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fr3sh-tragedies · 5 months

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You Don't Wanna Know

[Until Dawn] Samantha Giddings x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.52k

Proofread: Yes

Content Warnings: Sam quite literally falls into insanity, mentions of blood, stabbing, knives, language (?), OOC Sam

[A/N]: This was fun to write, ngl, but I also wrote the whole thing fairly quickly in one sitting, so I apologize if it's kind of hard to read. I did read back over it, but I was sleep deprived, so there are probably mistakes.

Enjoy!

Blade in hand, Sam trembled, readying herself to strike the moment the creature lurking in front of her charged. She steadied her breath, her hazel eyes shooting toward Mike. She gave a subtle nod, a signal that he needed to ready himself for when they both took off running. With another puff of air to steel her nerves, Sam lifted her leg and slammed it down, her foot stamping the cold, cracking cement beneath her, echoing throughout the vacant room. A screech rang out unlike anything she or Mike had ever heard. The Wendigo that had been desperately trying to find the two in the room lunged forward toward the blonde. She timed her movements, ducking down when it came too close and managing to hook her arm around its inhumanely thin bicep. Willing her strength into the right spot, she shifted her weight and forced the Wendigo backward with a twist of her body, essentially throwing it to spiral toward the ground behind her.

“Mike, run!” She hollered, briefly glancing back to make sure he did so before her attention returned to the creature now scrambling to get back to its feet. Once regaining its bearings and balance, the Wendigo thrusted itself in Sam’s direction once again. Sam gripped the handle of her knife even tighter and made sure to angle herself to strike. The moment it came towering over her, Sam propelled the blade forward, listening with a grimace as it tore through the skin and thin muscle of the beast’s chest. It staggered backward, unfazed as the sharp steel was pulled out from its cavity, and quickly ran closer yet again, somehow unbothered by the gaping wound now pouring blood by the heart.

Upon seeing that the Wendigo wasn’t going down, Sam panicked, wondering how she could permanently keep it pinned. She couldn’t die here–she had someone she had to get back home to. She needed to be there for her, and she needed to be there for her friends, who had all likely made it back to the lodge and were needing a plan. If she could figure out how to kill these things, she could help the group defend themselves as well.

How could she kill this thing?

How the hell could she kill this thing?

Maybe she couldn’t kill it, but there had to be a way to hold it off long enough to get away.

She studied it as urgently as she could, barely coming up with a half-batched plan as it closed the distance between them. Her hands trembled, and she internally screamed at them to still. As the long, bony fingers of the Wendigo’s hand grasped Sam’s arm, she yelled out, jabbing the beast’s jugular as violently as she could and shoving it backwards. Still gripping her arm, the Wendigo yanked her to the ground as it fell onto its back. Before it could get the upper hand again, Sam shuffled up and gripped the handle with both hands. Planting both knees on either side of the creature’s torso, she dug the knife in further with all the force she could muster, yanking it sideways and slicing the thin muscle of the throat, trying her best to decapitate it. She made it about halfway to the nape of its neck before it screamed out louder in agony, instinctively picking her up and hurling her away in defense.

With a loud howl of pain, Sam slammed against the floor, skidding across the concrete and rolling away for a moment. She hissed as she propped herself up on her elbows, nails digging into her scalp as she tried to clear her vision. Tugging her hand away, she found blood now drizzling down from her fingertips, spilling out and wrapping around her digits like ribbon until it pooled across her palm and the backs of her knuckles. Almost entranced by the way it moved, she wriggled her fingers before clenching them together to form a fist.

The scars on the sides of her hands burst open at the sudden tensing, spilling out into more rivers that joined the staining streaks already there.

Then, upon hearing the echoey gurgling from her attacker, now several feet away, Sam’s head shot up. Her head throbbed harsher at the sudden motion, but she still managed to gain her bearings and assess what was happening ahead of her. The Wendigo, letting out scratchy, broken whines as blood oozed down its form onto the floor, shook and clawed at the skin now torn open on the side of its throat. Aside from the groan when she had been thrown, Sam hadn’t made any noise, meaning the beast ahead had no way of knowing where exactly she was.

She took this as her opportunity, noticing that the Wendigo was struggling to even stumble around, clutching at its throat and letting out another shrill wail. As soon as it collapsed to the floor, Sam turned and slipped against the concrete as she took off toward the direction Mike had gone, wrestling against the urge to look back. Against her better judgment, she clutched the bloodied knife toward her chest, praying she didn’t have to use it again.

A safe distance away, Sam called out for Mike.

Months after Sam and the others had left the lodge, they finally finished giving their statements to the investigators on the case. As far as she knew, everyone other than Josh had survived, though none of them had talked since they were picked up by the rescue helicopter. Sam had refused help from any of the counselors the police had recommended, not wanting to live through the horrors she had witnessed down in the mines all over again.

Instead, she focused on returning home to her girlfriend, who had no idea of what had been going on the entirety of the time she was gone. She had promised to only be gone for half a week at most, but after all of the interviewing, it had been well over three months. The officers on the case let her make a call to [Y/N] so she could explain the situation, but Sam had kept the details very minimal. The last thing she had wanted was to upset [Y/N] even further. And to her relief, the majority of the details hadn’t been released to the public yet, considering they hadn’t gone down to discover the monsters themselves.

Even when they went down to seek them out, Sam knew most of them wouldn’t survive.

Finally, after an excruciatingly long ride home, Sam had made it. She was quick to stumble up to the front door and let herself in, making a beeline to her shared bedroom with the one she was looking for. Before she got upstairs, however, she snuck into the garage and placed something down, then heading back inside. Briefly, she caught a glance of her reflection in one of the mirrors hung on the wall. She noticed the scar leading from her forehead up past her hairline had started to slowly heal, the one she had earned from her first full battle against a Wendigo. Her hand trailed up to gently let her fingertips graze alone the rough tissue, tracing the shape as she hummed.

For a moment, she considered splitting the scar back open, desperate to relive the thrilling moment she had suffered through down in the mines. She ultimately decided against it, figuring it wouldn’t make a difference. The scars would all still be there, even after they healed. She huffed out a small sigh and started toward the stairs again, finding herself standing in front of the bedroom door for a moment before nudging it open.

Normally, when Sam and [Y/N] saw each other again after being separated for an extended period of time, they’d hug one another tightly and spend the entire day together. Despite this routine, when they finally saw each other then, all Sam could do was wobble forward onto the bed before pulling the smaller girl into her chest. “Sam? Holy shit, you’re back,” [Y/N] whispered, sighing in relief as she tugged the blonde closer and turned her head to listen to her heartbeat. “I was so worried.” Sam grinned at her words, silently stroking her hair for a moment before she gave a response.

“Ah, no need for that. Things just got weird.”

In the back of her mind, Sam knew that “weird” was a severe understatement. However, she had no idea how to put what she had seen into words. She managed to dryly answer [Y/N]’s rapid questions for a bit longer, but ultimately fell asleep in the middle of the one-sided conversation, the exhaustion from the whole ordeal finally kicking in.

Days passed, and it was clear right away that Sam had changed. Instead of being the openly kind, considerate woman [Y/N] had grown to love over the years, she had become cold and distant, growing increasingly defensive and aggressive when anything was mentioned about her trip. How could she have grown hypervigilant over a trip with friends? She wouldn’t open up about anything, no matter what [Y/N] tried. She eventually shrugged it off, however, assuming it was just exhaustion and stress from whatever had taken place while she was gone.

She made it her goal to help Sam relax again. She’d cook her meals, get her clothes and everything ready when she’d shower, let her latch onto her when she would occasionally sleep in, and would practically baby her in some aspects, watching her like a hawk to make sure she didn’t collapse or grow visibly sick from whatever thought might’ve crossed her mind. This lasted quite a while. [Y/N] had been hoping Sam would finally start opening up after some time if she was just given the support and space she needed, though that moment never came.

Desperate, she had even researched possible ways to work through whatever was swarming through Sam’s mind. She reached out to a few licensed therapists here and there, but they weren’t able to do much since Sam wouldn’t cooperate with any of their questions. Nothing seemed to work. She just wanted the woman she fell in love with to come back to her.

As painful as it was to see her lover and best friend slipping away and becoming someone new, [Y/N] eventually respected her wishes and let her be, gradually halting her questions about the trip to the lodge. She couldn’t get into contact with anyone else from the friend group either–and she wondered if it was for the same reason that was causing Sam to treat her so differently as well. She hoped they wouldn’t all shut everyone else out the way the blonde was already doing to her.

The days would all go by the same way: [Y/N] would get up early when Sam would finally let go of her, fix breakfast for the two of them, eat alone in the kitchen, and head out for the day, usually catching a glimpse of Sam sauntering downstairs and sitting down at the table to finally eat. It was like she was running on a survival schedule. She’d only eat and sleep when she absolutely needed to. Anytime she tried to take a nap, she’d end up springing up from the cushions in a cold sweat, always out of breath. It didn’t take long for her to stop trying to rest throughout the day.

During those times, when she wasn’t able to sleep, she’d tap at the scar adoring her forehead then bring her hand back down, picturing the way the waves of her blood had danced against her skin months prior. She’d find herself staring at her palm for hours, losing track of time. It was hard for her to remember to eat when this happened, so she had to be reminded.

[Y/N] would text her at lunch, checking up on her, and hardly ever got a response. She’d carry out the rest of her shift for the day, then head home, always finding Sam blacked out on the sofa in the den or in their shared bedroom, struggling to stay asleep for more than a few minutes. She’d never greet [Y/N] anymore, but she would still make some kind of motion to let her know that she acknowledged her coming back into the house: a small hum, a little nod, or just a simple glance in her direction. Not once did she utter anything.

Then, to end the evening, [Y/N] would prepare dinner or order takeout. To her surprise, Sam would actually sit and eat with her most nights, though she never made conversation.

The two would then trudge up to bed once they finished cleaning up, shower and get changed into their nightwear, and then collapse into a deep slumber the moment they made it under the covers. This repeated for days, which shifted into weeks, and then shifted into months. As the time passed, Sam seemed to get a little less aggressive, though she was still relatively mute. One night, Sam got a call as they sat in the living room, picking at their fast food and watching something random on the TV. She seemed to grow relieved at whatever the caller had told her.

When [Y/N] asked what it was about, Sam simply pocketed her phone and shook her head, returning to her meal. “You don’t wanna know.”

[Y/N] frowned at this, but gave up instantly, forcing herself to push through her sudden nausea and finish her dish. As she took her last bite, she glanced over at Sam, who had put hers down on the coffee table and began to stare blankly at the wall across the room. With a small sigh, [Y/N] stood and picked up both plates, carrying them over to the kitchen to toss the remaining food and rinse off the forks and plates.

As she turned to slide the rack of the dishwasher open, [Y/N] blinked and froze upon seeing Sam wander out into the garage.

The blonde made sure to shut and lock the door behind her once inside the large space, her socks coming into contact with the chilled stone beneath her and hardly doing anything to keep her feet warm. She didn’t mind it though. Instead, she ignored the chill that shot up her spine and waltzed to a loose panel being pressed into place behind the multiple boxes she and [Y/N] had piled up for storage.

She lifted a few boxes, sliding them across the ground after moving them behind her, then wriggling the loose wooden plank from the wall and propping it up against a few heavier boxes a few feet away. Her hand reached inside the dark opening now revealed to her, not flinching so much as once at the feeling of cobwebs grazing her skin and entangling themselves around her fingers. She rummaged around momentarily, but cracked a small smirk upon feeling the thin plastic top of the bag she was searching for.

With a quick tug, she lifted the bag up and towards her chest, lazily moving the panel back into place before turning around and retracing her steps to the door leading back into the house. She flicked her wrist and unlocked the door with ease, pulling the door open and letting herself inside. Barely closing the door behind her, she casually walked into the kitchen, planning to stroll straight past [Y/N] without being noticed.

She was noticed, though. It wasn’t just her presence that was acknowledged.

Instantly, [Y/N]’s eyes trailed down and landed directly on the bag pressed tightly against Sam’s chest. She bristled at the sight of the rusted knife in the bag, coated in dried, flaking blood. Her gaze shot back up to Sam’s, who was now staring blankly at her.

“Sam?” She started cautiously. The blonde had no reply, only blinking at the sound of her name. “What is that?” Still, she was met with a deafening silence.

Finally, fed up with the lack of responses over the months, remembering each time Sam avoided the subject of the lodge, [Y/N] stepped forward and feigned her best look of strength. A newfound sense of anger bubbled up underneath her skin and up her throat. The questions began spilling from her lips before she could stop them. “Sam, what the hell is that? Why do you have it? Has that been here this whole time? Is that from the lodge? Did you fucking kill someone?”

For the first time since she made it home, Sam smiled, though it sent a chill down [Y/N]’s spine. The blonde’s grin only widened as she stepped forward. A sound mimicking a chuckle erupted from her throat, more of a low, broken rumble. She shook her head and lowered her tone as she spoke, adding onto the signs that were triggering alarm bells in [Y/N]’s head. She got her answer, even as Sam gave an indirect one.

“You don’t wanna know.”

She brushed past the trembling girl, calmly heading upstairs and into her office down the hall from the bedroom. There, she found the stand she had purchased shortly after making it home. Her fingers traced the lines of the bag still in her hands, toying with the corners before tugging it open. With a sickening smile, she slid the knife out at a painfully slow speed, marveling at the way the light overhead made the browning blood staining the rusted steel glisten.

A hum of admiration slipped from her lips as she dropped the bag by her feet, lifting the knife up higher to get a better view. With a gentle motion, she lowered it to rest on the wooden stand in front of her. Her feet led her backward enough for her to get a better view.

From the corner of her eye, she could see [Y/N] peering in from the doorway, beads of sweat trickling down her face and neck. Sam beamed at her, motioning for her to come in and stand next to her. Afraid of what would happen if she refused, [Y/N] did as told, hesitantly planting herself beside the blonde, whose hazel eyes were trained on her form. Finally, Sam waved her arm forward, motioning toward the knife.

“You sure you want to know what this is?”

With a loud swallow, [Y/N] nodded. “This is the knife that I used to save myself back at the lodge. I slit open a Wendigo’s throat to survive. Thought I’d keep it as a kind of token of sorts. Anytime I start to feel unsure about something, I can look to this as a source of motivation. It saved me once, it can save me again.”

[Y/N] could only stare ahead, her mind spinning as she struggled not to faint. What was a Wendigo? How would this knife be a token of motivation? How was Sam so disgustingly calm about murdering something? That wasn’t like her at all. She hated seeing the smallest of animals being hurt–how could she just murder one? Was this even the same Sam that she had been waiting for back when she was at the lodge to meet up with her friends? Who was the woman standing by her side?

She had so many questions–too many questions–and she wasn’t sure if she would ever get answers to any of them. Or even if she wanted to.

Finally, she tore her eyes away from the source of her spiking nausea to look up at Sam. Her blood ran cold when she turned to find the blonde staring down at her already, something in her eyes confirming [Y/N]’s fear that she had changed. That stomach-churning smile still painted her lips, though now it seemed far more menacing. A hand slid down to clasp [Y/N]’s, making her yelp and jump at the contact.

She glanced down to find Sam now interlocking their fingers, then back up to find the smile gone.

“What’s wrong, [Y/N]?” Sam questioned, her tone flat and devoid of any emotion.

She leaned down, now uncomfortably close to the smaller girl’s face, seemingly staring dead into her soul. She cocked her head to the side, almost in a mocking motion. “Did you not want to hear about this after all? I sure hope that’s not the case. It’d be a shame. After all, I’m trusting you to keep this little prize of mine between us, and only us. Will you do that for me?”

[Y/N] couldn’t speak, terrified of saying the wrong thing. She screamed at her mind to say something, anything at all. All she could do, however, was stare. She gave a small, almost unnoticeable nod after a torturous string of silence. One in which Sam only stared, unblinking, into her eyes.

Finally, Sam’s lips split into a grin again. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Good. Let’s see just how long you can keep that promise.”

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sgcairo · 1 year

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My Dearest Darling (Irnes/Fatui!Reader Part Five)

Just to avoid confusion: The first two sections (Sumeru & Land of Dreams) are flashbacks! Beyond that it's back to the present day timeline.

This took forever to write out and articulate, for absolutely no reason. But I can say that I'm very happy with the result, and it's mostly setup this chapter, and a little bit of sadness along the way. If you were expecting Irnes to be happy this time around... lower your expectations to zero. I'm sorry, it hurts me too, but it gets worse before it gets better, my friends. Enjoy this context and Omega getting what he deserves!

Sumeru

"They are merely pawns in a greater game. Why should I care what comes of them? The dendro gnosis is in my possession, the other a consolation prize, if you will. It is pointless, worrying about vermin that will eradicate themselves."

A letter rested in your hands, the flaps of your small tent on the outskirts of Port Ormos lazily drifting on tender breezes. Sumeru was oddly peaceful compared to the frigid cold of the motherland, warm and as humid as Irnes warned you it would be. You'd been taking his advice and drinking enough water, especially after the near catastrophe that happened on patrol. Passing out in the street and waking up a few hours later had not only caused an uproar within your squad, but had also managed to screw with you for the next few days, your body still struggling with the dizziness that had crept up on you so easily.

While the work was tiring, seeing a new letter from Irnes resting on the small makeshift table by your bed was enough to invigorate you again, especially seeing how long it was. Irnes had a tendency to ramble, even in his letters, which you found incredibly endearing. His pages of speculation about the stars, new ruin guard pieces, and sappy visions of the future with you by his side had made themselves at home in your heart, to the point that you would stay up late just to read his words again.

This time, however, there was a picture with his words. The kamera was a new invention from Fontaine, incredibly expensive to acquire and even more difficult to use properly. However, Irnes and the segments had somehow gotten their hands on one, and had been sending you the strangest images as of late- you'd gotten a concerning amount of half naked Irnes pictures, blurry and clearly accidental, plenty of segment group photos with fire water and betting on poker matches in the dark, and many photos of Anastasiy sleeping in awkward positions or staring straight at the kamera. Those always served to make you chuckle in amusement.

But this one... this one was different.

It was a simple portrait image, nothing to lose your head over. But its quality was... astounding. Irnes stood in front of a plain background, smiling at the camera softly. His mask was gone, suit ironed and mended, buttons embossed with flowers catching your eye. The detail of the image was so clear that it almost felt as if he were standing right in front of you, the corners of his eyes wrinkling with his smile, hands clasped around an ivory cane that you remembered all too well. It was a picture that one would keep in a locket, that they would treasure and hold the day they died.

He was beautiful.

Just seeing him made you long to be home again, where you could collapse into his arms and be scolded for not taking care of yourself again. He would make you tea, let you rest your feet and tell you about everything you missed as the other segments gathered nearby, still watching you with wide and uncertain eyes. You ached for his gentle touches, for the feeling of his lips against your forehead, for the weight of his arms around you.

The writing on the back was a host unto itself, his illegible scrawl reading:

For my darling, to keep you company until we are together again.

Archons, if you had the choice you would already be sailing back already. But you still had (begrudging) work to do before you could return, the gnosis must be secured. The people were beginning to become restless as well, unsettled by the oppressive nature of the Fatui camps around the port. While the Second Harbinger made his escape, it was your duty to keep the people at bay, and you'd be damned if you didn't show.

"Ah, comrade! There you are, we were looking all over!"

Looking up from the photo, you found Iosif standing over you, his gun humming with pyro from where it was slung over his shoulder.

"Oh? Who's this?"

Oh no. He'd seen the photo. Not that it was anything scandalous, but knowing your squad... they'd harass you for being all moony-eyed over this man. They knew by now that he was rather fond of you, but it was even worse being caught out in the open staring at the photo sappily.

"You know who it is, Iosif." You grumbled, raising an eyebrow. "Let me wallow in my desires in peace."

Iosif chuckled, leaning over to get a better look.

"I mean, he is quite the looker. No wonder you're so enamored with him. He looks like se-"

"Don't you fucking dare finish that sentence."

"Fine! Just come on, don't want to get knocked for having to drag you out..."

Tucking the photo into your interior pocket, you patted it gently. The warmth from his smile still hadn't faded, the beauty of your lover remained fresh in your mind. Oh, how you couldn't wait to sweep him up into your arms and see that ever-bright grin-

...This was going to be a long patrol.

Land of Dreams

Warning for descriptions of blood and violence ahead!

Everything hurt.

You hadn't expected an armed uprising, much less one on a peaceful boulevard as the sun settled in the cradle of the distant seas.

But the people had decided otherwise, namely their "resistance".

You didn't remember much of what had happened. You'd called upon your vision, charging into battle without a second thought. Dragging one of the many men off Olga's back, you made sure to settle him deeply in the cobblestones where he belonged, his ribs cracking under the force of your blow.

"On my flank!" Olga had cried back, beckoning you after her. Hydro gathered around her gauntlets as she lunged at the next assailant, the din and chaos whirling around the two of you so riveting and familiar. It flowed through your veins, satisfying this deep ache in your gut.

"GET DOWN!"

After that, everything was blurry. Olga had slammed into the ground with a sickening crunch, having not dropped in time, blood splattering across stone. You suspected that you'd been hit too, but your vision was spinning too much to tell. You struggled to drag yourself back towards some sort of cover, but something grabbed your boot, your ankle flaring up in burning pain as whatever it was yanked.

A hoarse cry tore itself from your throat as you scrabbled at stone, the shouting nearby muted by the ringing in your ears. Your fingernails aching as you dug them into the earth beneath you, likely bleeding and breaking, but there was too much blood to tell. You couldn't see, couldn't hear-

You panic only mounted as the force of the pulling increased, your hands finally slipping. Your jacket protected you from the brunt of the scrapes, but your palms were practically raw, more open cuts joining the blood that dripped steadily from your hands.

"We got one!"

You tried to kick at your captor, but your body felt too heavy, your leg jerking as the sensation of excruciating tearing surged up your side, your vision blanking for a moment.

The next thing you knew, you were being hauled to your feet by your hair, faced with two faces. Identical, but fading in and out of each other as you swayed, unable to keep yourself upright.

"------!"

Someone shouted. Shots rang out in the night. The next thing you knew, you were back on the ground, the platoon medic hunched over you.

"-lost too much blood, they might not make the trip..."

All that you could force out was a gurgle, your lungs feeling heavy. The world was muffled, distant.

"-up. We've got to move."

More pain. You were vaguely aware of hot tears running down your face and someone hoisted you up, whispering reassurances that you couldn't understand.

Why did it hurt so much? It burned... why did it burn?

The tearing and scorching feeling in your bones didn't subside, even as you were urgently carried away. You just wanted to sleep, to not hurt like this anymore... You wanted Irnes. Where was he, why wasn't he here? It was childish, in hindsight, to want him to hold you and make the pain go away. Maybe if he kissed it better it wouldn't hurt so much.

"'nes..."

A single, charred picture remained in your pocket.

His smile was gone.

Regret

Irnes is quiet as you clean his bruised knuckles, a cloth held to his nose as you calmly wipe away the mixture of Omega's blood and his own.

There's nothing to say. He occasionally opens his mouth, as if he wants to say something, only to close it seconds later. You don't know the situation, and you're not sure if you want to, especially hearing the distant cursing of Omega as the other clones patch him up, all watching you and Irnes with wide eyes when they pass by. You would say that it's disrespectful, if it weren't warranted by the whole "Irnes beat Omega's ass as he deserves while crying uncontrollably" situation. Sergei lingers nearby regardless, watching you with those wide and terrified eyes from behind the doorframe.

You're not sure if you should speak, you really don't want to hurt Irnes. Especially while he's upset, saying the wrong thing could make everything worse.

But seeing him cry, hiccuping quietly as you bandage his wound and place gentle kisses upon them... You'd be lying if you said the temptation wasn't there.

No, you have better self restraint than this.

"My dear..."

The rasp surprises you, Irnes coughing lightly as he finally draws the handkerchief away from his nose. It's stained a bright red, definitely ruined, the embroidery soaked through.

"Yes?"

You can't bring yourself to say anything else, instead tying off his bandages gently, careful not to jostle his wounds too much.

"Are you... upset with me?"

Honestly? Not really, Omega was a little bitch and deserved it. Besides, Irnes beating the living daylights out of him was kind of hot, thinking back on it. Blood running down his face, eyes wild- yeah, that was really hot. You'd pay to see him do it again. Maybe not to Omega, because there's a good chance that he'd get his ass handed to him if the stakes were level. But seeing the sheer, unadulterated rage in his eyes... It was scary, but also made you want to know more.

Irnes watches you like a kicked puppy as you mull it over, face stained and bruised, eyes full of tears that shine in the dim light. He looks handsome as ever, but so distraught. You hate the way his shoulders slump, how his usual facade of brilliance and happiness has fallen, leaving behind a sinking pit of anxiety and sorrow that practically radiates off him. His anger is gone, replaced by exhaustion as he looks up at you pleadingly.

"No, I'm not. I'm just worried, you know? You're pretty banged up... and I did not expect to see you so-"

You think for a moment, before chuckling to yourself.

"-feral. But I like it."

Irnes stares at you for a moment, his own watery laughter filling the air a moment later at the absurdity of your answer. He laughs until he's sobbing again, his tears finally spilling down his cheeks, his mouth contorted into a grimace as he wipes at his cheeks in vain.

You're speechless for a moment, watching his body tremble with the force of his gasping and crying, before grabbing a fresh washcloth. Pulling his shaking hands away from his face, you gently dab at his red cheeks, raw from his scrubbing.

"It's okay, Irnes... I swear I'm not mad. Pinky swear. I'm just glad you're okay."

Irnes continues to cry, but you can see the hint of a smile showing through.

"Now, let's get you some better clothes. I don't want you sleeping in bloody clothes..."

An Omega Shaped Problem

You knew Omega was trouble from the beginning.

As soon as you arrived in Sumeru, he'd been there, watching you with that terrifying grin. Compared to Irnes' pointy smile, that was the grin of a killer, a man who would throw everything away just to watch the world burn. You didn't hate him, per se, but he definitely creeped you out. He would show up in your tent regularly for a "progress report" and pester you endlessly about Irnes- which you grew to appreciate, he did have quite a bit of useful information. But it was also very annoying after a long day of fighting pointlessly to defend the so-called "god" he was building, and you had grown to have a love-hate relationship with him.

However, you would not let him upset your lover to the point of losing his temper. Not without consequences.

"Ow! Fucking hell, did that bastard knock a tooth loose? If he did, I'm going to shove that thing he calls a ruin guard so far up his-"

You didn't feel the slightest bit guilty for the cries of pain that came from around the corner. Having a nice talk with Omega would definitely make him forget about those small pains. You were a soldier, first and foremost, years of training until you felt like you were going to pass out from exhaustion behind your fists. You weren't known for your smooth tongue, no. If anything, you were known for being efficient.

"Be careful! This face is getting us funds, dipshit!"

"Watch your mouth, you pathetic piece of shit! I'll kick your ass!"

The snarky return was definitely familiar, though you didn't have a face for the voice.

"I'd like to see you try!"

"Listen, do you want that tooth out or not? Because I'll fucking leave if you don't stop talking!"

"Oh, fuck you!"

"...No thanks, that's called self-cest and it's heavily frowned upon by society."

"Just shut the fuck up and do your job!"

Well now you're convinced that Omega deserves a good punch in the gut, clearly Irnes was holding back. If Omega could still bitch about getting beat up, he wasn't hurting enough.

You would remedy that quickly.

Emerging from your hiding spot behind the corner, you found Omega sitting on a rickety old bed, another familiar looking clone standing over him. Well, all of them were familiar, you saw dozens of the same face every day-

"Ah, it's you."

You didn't like that tone. Especially coming from the bloodied lips of the man who'd pissed Irnes off to the point of violence. Your lover was not easily angered, you knew from experience. Even in the face of cruelty, he was not angered. He worked himself to the bone, to the point of utter exhaustion, and did not raise his voice to complain. Irnes was patient. You were considerably less so.

"Yes, it's me. Are you done screaming like a little bitch?"

Omega's face was eerily neutral for a moment, eyes watching you from behind a blood stained mask. That was, until he started to laugh. Genuine, bone chilling laughter, his sharp teeth on display as his shoulders shook with the force of his guffaws.

"What, your little 'boyfriend' couldn't make the trip? Did he collapse on the way here? Maybe crawled across the floor after you like a dog?"

Omega continued to giggle, lifting a bloody hand and shutting his fist to look like the mouth of a puppet.

"Oh my darling! Wait for me, I'm too crippled to walk!"

Mocking. He was mocking Irnes. His high pitched tone touched a nerve, especially as he got up from the table, walking over too you with a grossly exaggerated limp.

"Oh help me, darling! I'll fall!"

Disgusting. His hands scratched at your shoulders, scraping against your skin painfully. You could feel the warmth of his hands through the heavy linens Irnes had so lovingly dressed you in, now slightly stained with smears of red from Irnes' clinging. This... bastard had the gall to insult your lover after spilling his blood. You'd felt the urge to kill before, but never this strong.

"Shut your fucking mouth."

The monotone scolding came from behind, the clone scowling as he approached.

"Unhand them. Now. Prime won't be pleased when I reveal this little scuffle, especially when I tell him you attacked Irnes first."

"Oh shut your filthy little mouth, maggot. The adults are talking."

It really was taking all your power not to punch him straight in the mouth.

"And what if I don't?"

Omega's face contorted into something of a semblance of outrage, his cape (it looked terribly silly on him) flipping as he turned to face the smaller clone.

"Then I'll take care of you myself."

"Oooo, so spooky..."

The other clone rolled his eyes, raising his needle and thread menacingly.

"I'll sew your lips together, motherfucker. Sleep with one eye open tonight."

The boys were fighting now, leaving you behind.

Should you fall back and make a tactful retreat? Probably. Were you going to do something against your husba- lover's strict moral code anyways? Abso-fucking-lutely.

You weren't usually this confrontational. But Omega mocking Irnes and pretending to be all high and mighty afterwards... It made your guts feel disgusting and sticky, the back of your throat soured as you watched the two bicker.

"Hey piss boy, think fast."

You hadn't trained under Capitano for years for nothing.

Crunch.

That's Enough

Irnes was dead asleep.

He'd fallen asleep in his clothes no less, sprawled across the bed like a morbidly large daddy long legs, pillows propping him up as he laid on his good side.

That punch to Omega's jaw had been incredibly satisfying, and freshening up afterwards had added a whole other layer to the warmth that surrounded you. The bounce in your step only added to the feeling in your gut, fuzzy and fulfilling like a warm cup of tea after a long day.

Your chest felt so much lighter as you crawled into bed, positioning yourself before him. His face was so peaceful when he was asleep, the wrinkle between his brows was gone and his cheeks seemed to have the slightest bit more color. You couldn't help but watch him, reaching out and tenderly tracing along his jaw. He'd said when the two of you first met that he couldn't feel anything on that side, but that didn't stop you from wanting to smother it in kisses, to show him how much you adored those scars, how much you adored him.

Cupping his face, you gently stroked under his eye, feeling the weight beneath it. Had he not been sleeping well while you were gone? Maybe it was the stress of taking care of you all this time... that thought only served to stoke the fires of your guilt, Irnes' skin warm under your fingers as you moved to caress his cheek.

Oh, how you missed this.

"...dear?"

A crimson eye blinked open slowly, Irnes' shoulders tensing up slightly at the sudden awakening- only to relax as he met eyes with you.

"'m sorry... It seems I feel asleep..."

Irnes sounded... guilty?

"It's okay. You deserve to rest after taking such good care of me. Go back to sleep... I won't move an inch, pinky swear."

"I've slept plenty, my darling."

Your glare begs to differ.

"Alright... perhaps not as much as I should."

At least he's self aware, which is more concerning than you care to admit.

"More of a reason to go back to sleep, then. Though... I can't say that those shoes look comfortable to sleep in."

Irnes chuckled humorlessly, waggling his good foot.

"They are somewhat comfortable. However, I can't say you're wrong. Feet cramps in these are awful."

You love him, but you don't really need to know that much about his feet.

"Should I take them off then?"

"Already thinking about stripping me? My, my, we haven't even been on an official date yet, at least buy me flowers first..."

"You know that's not what I meant."

Irnes smiles at your joking tone, relaxing and leaning back against the heap of pillows beneath him.

"I know, my dear. You're simply too cute when I tease you, I can't help myself..."

The lilt of sadness in his tone was... sobering. While you'd been focusing on recovery, he'd been slaving away and worrying, undoubtedly having lost sleep with you occupying the bed. Those rickety metal bunks the clones were given would hurt his back, you were almost certain, not to mention the cold that the meager amount of blankets couldn't stave off. But even then, you had a suspicion that the armchair pulled up beside the bed had gotten more use than the empty bunk across from you.

A peaceful silence settled over the two of you, Irnes' tired eyes watching you fondly. His exhaustion seemed to wash over every crevice of his body, swallowing his usually cheerful demeanor with bone-deep weariness.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been as... good as I'd like to be, lately."

Irnes' words startled you a little, his smile struggling to stand against whatever tide of misery plagued him.

"I feel as if I've neglected you, my dear. I know that's wrong, but my clinical view of things... I feel as if I haven't cared for you. I may have cared for your person, but-"

Pausing, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

"I feel as if I've forgotten to love you along the way. I'm so sorry, my dear..."

You hated seeing Irnes cry. It wasn't ugly, no, never in your eyes. But the way his usually grinning face split apart into a miserable twist of his lips, eyes averted and looking down as if he was expecting punishment... Your heart ached like someone was twisting a knife into it.

"Don't apologize... You've cared for me this whole time, don't discredit yourself like this."

Cradling his cheek with your hand, you gently leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his scarred cheek.

"I know we're still trying to figure things out, but I really like you... Love might be too strong for you right now, especially while you're crying... But I care for you. I know you would never see me as an experiment or something to pick apart. Give yourself more credit, love. I will never ask you to be perfect, only to do your best. And you did with what you had on hand. That's enough for me."

Irnes leans into your touch, his tears wetting your hand. You can feel his chest shake, hear the cries stifled in his chest.

"Please believe me. I thought about you every day while I was gone, I held that picture in my coat pocket hoping I'd get to see you again. Please believe me, just this once."

It's as if you're begging him, you can see how much it pains him on his face as he rests his hand over yours, shaky and wounded beyond repair.

"I- I don't know if I can."

"Then try it, love. Just try, as you always do."

He hesitates. You watch him, waiting for the outburst, something to indicate how hard it is to keep him from shaking apart.

Instead, you get a small nod.

That's enough for you.

An Experiment

Irnes rarely gets a moment apart from you, now that you're recovered and still on leave. You follow him through his daily routine, watching in fascination as Irnes works so easily, even if he's dealing with life and death. He moves from pod to pod, checking the segments inside and scribbling on his clipboard, his cane slung over his arm as he limps along. You keep your distance, allowing him to gather his thoughts and keep his focus, instead taking time to think about what comes next. Will the two of you start "dating" officially? Or will you consider marriage, per the customs of this land?

You don't know, and that's the part that scares you.

"My dear, can I steal you for a moment?"

You hadn't even realized you were staring into one of the pods nearby, watching the undeveloped clone move. This one looked particularly close to adulthood already, his features closer to that of a teenager than an actual adult. Tearing you gaze away, you looked up at Irnes, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Oh, it's nothing really. Just something I've been waiting to show you."

You nod along, your mind struggling to comprehend what it could possibly be.

"Lead the way, then."

Irnes smiles gratefully, offering an arm. You take it, though it's a bit awkward considering your height difference.

"I considered what you said last night. While I'm not sure if my subconsciousness would welcome thoughts like that, after so long with him in my head, I've decided that I would like to "try" as you put it."

You listen carefully, noticing how Irnes says him. As if he dreads whoever it is he speaks of.

"The first step to that is honesty, I believe. I should be honest with you first and foremost, and that is what I intend to do."

It sounds almost as if he's going to show you something terrible.

"I must tell you that what you are going to see is... negotiable, and fully up to you. I will not proceed with this without you telling me that you want it as well, do you understand me?"

You nod.

"I need a vocal confirmation, dear."

"I do. It can't be that bad, can it?"

Irnes purses his lips at the statement, but doesn't answer. At least, not directly.

"I suppose you'll just have to see for yourself."

The room he leads you into his dark, surprisingly clean compared to the rest of the lab. The tables are clear, papers sorted neatly- but that's not what draws your attention.

A single pod inhabits the center of the room, Irnes relinquishing your hold as he drifts over to touch it, laying a shaky hand on the cold glass.

"Well?"

Oh dear.

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