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jasmines-library · 4 months

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Hello sugar <3! (im very sorry if theres any spelling errors, english isnt my first language <3)

I would love to request some angst/comfort with the batfam? Maybe with the reader (tw: sa, rape) struggling with some sexual assault/rape issues, something they haven't told the family yet? The reader acting different for weeks, months even, and the whole family being suspicious and noticing their sudden fear of being cornered, touches and certain smells maybe?

its totally fair if you don't feel like it, I just really really love your way of writing the characters, and your writing over all. I swear, i swallowed your whole page in the matter of a few hours, I loved every second!

Kristy, Are You Doing Okay?

Note: My gosh im so sorry this literally took me over a month to get to, but it's here. I'm so glad you like my page and thank you for requesting! (Title name from song)

Warnings: SA, r*pe (non explicit but this fic deals with the aftermath. Please read with caution.), Panic attack of sorts.

Word count: 2.1K

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

Please remember, if you are ever struggling you are not alone. It may be difficult at first but there are many places for you to reach out to, many of which are anonymous and do not need the involement of of name, if you are just needing for someone to talk to. There will always be someone out there to help you. As an alternative, my DM’s are always open for a chat! Remember: You are loved and you are so much stronger than you realise.

⛤

You hadn’t meant to drift away. It sort of just…happened. And it wasn’t even something you were conscious of really. The thoughts were just constantly there and you couldn’t shake the feeling of his hands roaming all over his body; the ghostly touch of his fingers lingering flush against your skin, burning an invisible bruise into your flesh. You tried to shy away from it but it was always there, buried into the front of your mind festering away like an old, unforgotten wound oozing with pus and blood that would only create more problems the longer it was left.

The night it happened was cold and bitter. A shallow fog had cast itself over the city as you staggered back to the manor with makeup running carelessly down your face. You shut yourself away, turning the lock on your door and burying yourself under the covers to try and shy away from the situation. But it never left. It just kept growing, weeding its way back through the open cracks like a stubborn plant that refused to leave no matter how many times you doused it with poison. You didn’t sleep that night. And you didn’t leave your room the day after. In fact the only time anyone saw you that day was when you slunk downstairs in the middle of the night to try and revive the growling of your stomach without having to see anyone when you bumped into Tim who was finally dragging himself up to bed. The interaction was odd. At first he thought that you had just been busy all day and that was why no one had seen you: It wasn't uncommon for one of you to disappear into your room for a few days to catch up on school work or to finally get more than 4 hours of sleep. But something about you was off. You were quiet and lacking that charisma that usually shone from you. You were jumpy too, recoiling as soon as Tim rounded the corner unexpectedly.

When you finally managed to bring yourself out of your room, you were still withdrawn. Instead of donning your normal seat next to Jason at the table, you sat at the end alone pushing your food aimlessly around the plate until someone had finished eating and you took that as a cue to leave. You didn’t mean to leave them in the dark. Really, you didn’t but the thoughts crept into your mind every time they got near. Every hand outstretched sent a shiver crawling down the nape of your neck as if someone was running an ice cold digit along your spine. The thoughts were worse. Intruding. Obnoxious. You felt so…dirty. And your mind seemed to like to make sure you remembered that. You couldn’t help but feel like somehow the whole situation was your fault, which of course it wasn’t, but you were stuck with being guilt ridden; trapped within your walls.

Your skittishness didn’t go unnoticed. The boys tried many times to talk to you or to get you alone, but each time one of them hastily trailed after you as you slunk out of a room you would pick up your pace until they got the hint and stopped dejectedly in the halls. You had just skittered off into another part of the manor when Damian decided he had finally had enough.

He pushed his way back into the library rather frustratedly, stomping his feet so hard against the floor that they continued to pound through the room even as he moved from the polished wood to the carpet amongst the centre of the room. His brothers were still lounging around the room, their legs slung carelessly over the arms of the chairs or folded beneath them as they engrossed themselves in their phones or an ever growing pile of books. They barely even acknowledged that Damian had even returned from his pursuit of use, besides lifting their gaze as he huffed his way back into the room.

“Something is wrong with Y/N.” Damian declared, planting his feet into the carpet in the centre of the room and placing his hands on his hips.

Dick felt as though he could laugh. Damian’s statement was so obvious that you may as well have had a huge, yellow sign above your head that screamed ‘i’m not okay.’ It didn't matter how much effort you put into trying to hide the bags that dropped across your skin, or the way that you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with any of them for too long without your skin crawling, they were prominent amongst your saddened features. “Yeah, No shit.”he said, looking up from his phone that he had been mindlessly scrolling on to distract himself from the feeling that gnawed at his gut.

The room fell into a pregnant silence before Damians angry scoff broke the silence.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” He spat. “You’re not worried?”

Jason pushed himself up onto his forearms and spoke out defensively. “Of course we’re worried… It’s just…”

“What?”

“She won’t let us help her, Dami.” Tim said. “We’ve tried, but each time she’s run.”

“Well then try harder!” He said. It was unusual for the youngest Wayne to react this way when it came to his siblings. But, then again it was unusual for you to shy away like this and although Damian would never admit it, he had a soft spot for you and seeing you hurting like this killed him a little inside.

“Damian.” Dick reprimanded sternly.

He sighed and swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry. I just can’t see them suffering like this anymore.”

There was a general agreement between the four of them. Tim chewed away at his bottom lip as he thought for a moment. “What do you propose we do?”

The whole room seemed to think together as one for a moment.

“We corner them.” Damian said. It might have seemed cruel, but it was the only thing he could think of that would stop you from slipping away again. “If they keep running there’s no way we’re going to be able to help, so we just have to compromise.”

You knew that Jason was behind you. You could hear his careful footsteps, evenly spaced by his long strides as he tried to catch your attention. He was loitering outside of your room, trying to catch you as you left. It surprised you to see him as you peeled open the door. You had flashed him as much of a grin as you could muster up as he greeted you, trying to draw you into a one sided conversation that you were itching to get away from the moment it started. You tried to remind yourself that it was just Jason. That he wasn’t going to hurt you. But your mind still thought it was funny to play cruel tricks on you and soon you were making up a poor excuse and fleeing down the halls.

You didn’t make it far though before you collided with a tall figure marching down the other end of the corridor, who braced his hands on your shoulders. Yelping at the unexpected contact you spun on your heel to turn back the way you came only for your breath to get stuck in your throat when you were met with the red of Jason’s shirt. When you backed up, you collided with the eldest vigilante again. Spinning around frantically, you searched for a way out. There was none.

You were trapped.

The thought consumed you quickly, dragging you down like a ton of bricks tied to your ankles until you were drowning in the thought of being imprisoned again. It was all you could think of. It screamed throughout your mind, pumped in your blood. It was nauseating. You could see the other two approaching and panic set into your already scrambled mind. You weaved, trying desperately to spot an exit but the two vigilantes were much bigger than you and their hefty frames took up most of the corridor.

“No. No no no.” You rambled as your heart rate skyrocketed and your breathing came in sporadic, panicked gasps.

Tim furrowed his brow. He didn’t think you would react like this. He reached out to grasp your forearms to ease your shaking body, but you nearly screamed, yanking your arms away from him and backing up against the wall.

“Don’t touch me!” You stuttered, barely audible between your spiralling state. Fat, hot tears tracked along your face as you sunk to the ground to bury your face within your knees which you clutched to your chest.

The four boys exchanged an anxious glance.

“Y/N…”

“Please…” You gasped. “Stay away from me. I-I can’t anymore… no more. Please.”

“Y/N? What's wrong?” Dick queried. “Talk to us, please. We want to help.”

“No…” You whimpered.

Damian squatted down beside you resting on the balls of his feet before reaching out slowly towards you, ignoring the warning glance that Jason sent his way, and placing it gently on your shoulder.

Flinching, you squeezed your eyes shut. He could feel the way you trembled like a leaf under his touch but he didn’t let go.

“It’s just me Y/N. It’s Dami.”

You registered his words, but you still felt like you were back in that room. You allowed your body to relax just the smallest amount.

“It’s just us, kid. You’re okay.” Dick cooed.

You sniffled. The four of them were crouched around you now.

“You can trust us.”

Your body tensed as you were hit with reminders of that night. The way he had led you away to commit his act of betrayal that would cut deeper than a thousand knives.

“That’s what he said.” You hiccuped.

“Who?” Tim asked tenderly. “Talk to us Y/N.”

You shook your head, biting down on your lip. You didn’t want to bring up the memory stuck in your mind.

“Kid… we can’t help you if we don’t know what’s happening.”

“He- he… took me away from the crowds… He said to trust him- and I thought I could. B-but then he-” Your voice split into an unholy sob.

“Oh..Y/N/N…” Dick said, suddenly understanding.

“I can’t stop thinking about it. I can still feel him. Hear him. Just make it stop please!.” You begged, sobbing into your hands.”

“It’s okay. You’re safe.” He told you, reaching out gently to place a hand on your forearm, you tensed slightly but didn’t pull away. “We’re not going to let anyone hurt you. Ever.”

“We promise.”

You peeled your head away from your arms to reveal your bloodshot, teary eyes. From close up they could see how clearly the ordeal had taken a toll on you. Not just on your body but your mind too.

It took some convincing and a lot of gentle touches of reassurance to get you off of the floor, but the four of them managed to ease you back into your room. They refused to leave you alone after that. Insisting that at least one of them stay by your side at all times until you decided on your own terms that you were ready to take the next step in your recovery and stay the night alone. It was a slow process, but each small milestone made them extremely proud of you. They were there when you awoke suddenly in the middle of the night, crying and shaking, and they were there when you managed to move forwards too. They were there to remind you that recovery isn’t linear, and that it was okay to move backwards. It’s all part of the process. The four of them showed you a different kind of gentleness that you had never seen before, and they tried their hardest to bring a smile to your face everyday. And it was their kindness that began to wash away those feelings. It was them who made you realise that you were loved, strong and would find your way back from the darkness and into the light.

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yuusishi · 1 month

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Hi how’s it going? I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if I could request a headcannon of how Kaeya, Diluc, and Dainsleif react to reader saying “I can get it, just don’t ask how”? Can be either platonic or romantic, whichever you prefer. Thanks in advanced!

. . . SWEET SECRETS

pairings : Kaeya Alberich , Diluc Ragnvindr , Dainsleif x gn!reader

genre : fluff

cws/tws : implied violence but it’s rlly short

a/n : warning this is lowkey ass cuz I didn’t really know how to go about the whole plot so sorry if it’s messy 😭. I’ll be putting the headers later cuz I’m not on my pc rn and that’s where I make them !!

KAEYA ALBERICH !!

He thought you were just trying to lighten up the mood seeing his stressed expression upon walking in his office, but seeing your dead serious face he couldn't help but get curious about what your "way of finding the missing artifact" could be.

You weren't part of the knights, just a simple adventurer from the guild, and definitely not on par with the Traveler.

He mentally weighed his options until giving up and leaving it in your hands.

He really wasn't expecting much, possibly a lead or two, but the entire missing artifact that the knights were searching for for weeks showing up at his office definitely woke him up without any need for caffeine that morning. It was safely tucked in a basket too...

Letting out an amused chuckle, he walked towards the basket. The fragile artifact was encased in a bundle of blankets to prevent any breakage, as well as a note tucked in the corner.

“I spent all night getting this so you owe me! The map to the thieves’ den is on the back of this note” signed with your name, even then he could probably recognize your handwriting at a glance without the need for your signature.

Sure enough a shockingly detailed map was drawn at the back of the small note. That was the day Kaeya considered recommending you to Jean as the Knights’ private investigator.

DILUC RAGNVINDR !!

You need to have one hell of a way with words if you were to ask Diluc to even remotely involve you in his investigations. He’s well aware the dangers his nighttime escapades pose if he were to bring others with him, that’s the whole reason he works alone in the first place.

He had mentioned in passing that his messenger owl had gone missing for the past few days, no longer answering his calls or bringing back any letters, that’s when you had an amazing conversation with Dawn Winery’s owner.

“I can give you the lead but…” “But…?” “I want to go instead” “Not a chance” “Please!” “Then tell me how you’ll be doing it” “I can’t tell you” “Then it’s still a no” “I promise I can do it myself! The only thing you have to do is swear not to ask questions tomorrow morning”

A heavy sigh left Diluc’s lips as you wait expectantly for his answer, “Should you harm yourself in any way while you’re out, you’re getting banned from the tavern, alright?”

If he had to be honest, he stayed up later than usual that night (at least when he doesn’t need to be the darknight hero). He wished you would stroll up to Dawn Winery in the middle of the night and said that you gave up on the investigation, but you didn’t.

He had work the next morning, he went to sleep and hoped to the archons that putting faith in your abilities was a good idea. Sure enough, that very morning he found his owl on a bench outside Dawn Winery with a note attached to its foot.

“No questions, alright? Just get me something from Good Hunter as a thanks!” Usually he’d find your letters amusing, but he couldn’t help but let his heart drop ever so slightly upon seeing the speck of blood on the corner of the page.

DAINSLEIF !!

You had met Dainsleif enough times to be considered more than an acquaintance to him. As he travels across Teyvat, he still manages to frequent the tavern you work in. Every couple months you’d see the familiar tuft of blonde hair accompanying his eccentric appearance.

You were just an ordinary bartender, so Dainsleif wouldn’t dare try to involve you in his plans against the Abyss even if you held a vision. All of his plans managed to endanger even the Traveler after all.

He mentioned something about a precious item related to Khaenri’ah that he needed, and just his luck you knew a couple visitors to the tavern that could aid him. But they weren’t the most approachable people.

“I can get you a couple leads, only catch is that no questions will be asked, ‘kay?” A bad feeling buried itself in your stomach every time he mentioned something about the fallen kingdom, yet you still offered.

After giving the offer a moment’s thought, he agreed, warning you to be careful.

The next week he came back, but you weren’t there, instead Dainsleif was greeted by another bartender covering your shift. Curious, he asked what happened with you, the only answer he received was that you managed to overwork yourself and got sick. The bartender swiftly handed him a paper filled with leads for the item.

He swore to come back to properly repay you after he completes his investigation.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif x you

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onmyyan · 1 year

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Sharing is caring

A/N: Mariah Carey voice* ITS TIIIIME Smut will be in part three and I hope y’all enjoy!!! 17.1 pages, 6,340 words NOT EDITED

PART TWO

TW'S: YANDERE, MURDER, YANDERE HAREM, MANIPULAION, DRUGGING, SHARED DARLING, BLOOD,SUGGESTIVE BIT TOWARDS THE END, JEALOUSLY, READER HAD A BAD CHILDHOOD, CHILD NEGLECT, KIDNAPPING IS PLANNED IN DETAIL

If someone told you a week ago that your childhood best friends were planning some huge conspiracy to kidnap you, You'd of laughed in their faces.

After all, your boys couldn't be capable of something like that.

Right?

Sure they were a little more intense than the average person, but that's just how they've always been!

Growing up as the next-door neighbor to the Delmont Family used to be something you'd take great joy in, you would thank the stars you'd gotten lucky enough to be in their presence, how insanely loving they were to you from the second you entered their lives.

The family had taken you in more times than you could remember, whenever your parents fell through- be it picking you up from school hours late or forgetting to leave food money when they left you home alone, you were forced to care for yourself way too young and it didn't go unnoticed by the Delmont's.

Caspian recalls the day he'd first seen you vividly. He was twelve years old at the time and had just gotten into a rather nasty fight with his old man, he'd sulked his way outside to his small garden bed of herbs and veggies, the tiny oasis was a birthday gift from his mother last year, anytime life got too hard for the young boy he found himself kneeling in the dirt, and it's here he spots you.

Your small form sat idly in front of the T.V., a large blanket draped over your shoulders, he was confused, it was early in the day, why were you all alone? He checked your front yard to confirm his suspensions and it only made him sadder to see your parent's car's missing from the driveway.

He watched as you numbly munched on some dry cereal, but what really caught his eye were the tears running down your chubby cheeks, his chest began to ache at the sight, you couldn't have been much older than his youngest brothers, and be it his older brother instincts or the way you looked so sad, he was soon in the kitchen, furiously gathering all he needed to bake his mama's special cookies, the treats always managed to cheer him up, so he hoped they'd do the same for you.

When his mother came down to see her oldest baking as he'd never done before, she asked what the rush was. "I think our neighbor is sad mama- she looks all alone I just thought your cookies would make her feel better." His eyebrows were furrowed in the cutest form of frustration, she mentally cooed over him, how sweet he was, before beginning to wash her hands.

"Well, we better hurry up and give em' to her then." With the two working in tandem, he was bouncing on the balls of his feet outside your door in no time, the plate of warm treats made his hands hot, but he needed to be the one to give these to you. He wanted you to know you had someone in your corner.

His mother knocked on the door, her face twisting as she realized you were truly by yourself. The small pitter-patter of bare feet came closer before the door was swung open.

"Mama's not home." Was the first thing you said as if practiced. Both Delmonts felt their heart clench at the sight of you, you had bags under your eyes, your hair was messy as if you'd done it yourself, and the crumbs from something stuck haphazardly to the sweater you had on.

"Hi Honey, my name is Carla Delmont, I live right there with my family, this is my son Caspian- say hi mijo."

The awestruck boy shook himself from his stupor and thrust the plate forward. "Hi, there! Um. I-we made these for you." You stared at him with that blank look in your eye, at his words warmth seemed to pool into your gaze, the soft gapped tooth smile you gave him had his heart hammering in his chest, gently your small hands reached out to grab it, fingers touching his for a split second, but that's all it took for a bolt to shoot up his arm.

"Thank you! I'm (Y/N), we were supposed to come over and say hi when we moved in but I think mommy forgot."

She didn't want to assume something so harsh so early, but based on the way you looked and spoke, she couldn't help the sinking feeling that said your parents weren't the greatest at caring for you.

"Well how about this, when she gets home tonight you two come over for dinner hm?" Caspian had this hopeful look on his face as if urging you to say agree.

"Sure! I um, I dunno when she's coming home but that sounds fun." Your eyes lost a bit of twinkle at the thought, the older woman leaned down to put her hand on your shoulder, "Well if you get hungry before then come over. I'll even call your mom so she doesn't get worried okay?"

And that's exactly what you did anytime your parents went MIA, they knew they could find you next door.

A few hours later the matriarch heard the smallest knock at the door. She opened it with a warmth you weren't used to, ushering you inside before you could change your mind, she could see how nervous you were.

"Gabriel! Tell your brother to set another plate, we have a guest." The tall red-haired boy seemed to perk up at the request of his mother, nodding so fast you're sure he got whiplash, he took off, not before shooting you a big toothy grin, and soon returned red-faced and out of breath.

"Hi! I'm Gabriel but you can call me Gabe- do you like dogs? We have a dog, her name is Sophie, she's a pitbull and we had to put her outside cuz she bit Father. I thought it was pretty funny but he didn't." He rambled bouncing from either foot.

"Hi, Gabe- I'm (Y/n)." Despite baby, you's poor social skills Gabe didn't skip a beat as he stuck out his hand, grabbing your own in a gentle grip "Can we go play Mama?" The older woman sighed gently brushing fly-away curls from her second oldest's face.

"Yes mijo, just don't let (Y/n) get hurt okay? You boys can be so rough I don't want a single scratch on her understand?" He suddenly looked as serious as he could, nodding sternly to his mother, "Pinkie swear." She had no idea just how long he'd keep that promise.

And just what lengths he'd go to to do so.

He led the way through their comforting home with a gentle grip, careful not to hurt your smaller hand. The second the twins caught sight of you they abandoned whatever they were doing, tripping over themselves to say hello.

The twins looked nearly identical, the only way you could tell the two apart is if you really looked at Manny, the smaller boy had the prettiest eyes you'd ever seen, when you told him this he had to pull his shirt over his face to hide the red hot blush on his cheeks.

Marcos was so excited to meet a new friend, and his age no less! He spent the whole time outside asking you questions and trying to show off, the quiet boy sitting on the porch swing gave you a simple smile, introducing himself as Ricky, "I like your hair! It's so long and pretty!" You gushed over the long locks, he turned cherry red and decided then and there he'd never cut it short.

Time flew by in the sweetest moments, and before you knew it you were about to start High school.

About a week before the mandatory orientation you and the twins were set to attend, the parental unit sat you down in their living room, it felt odd being summoned without any of the boys, it didn't occur to you until that moment that you've never been in their home without one or more of them lingering around you, so to say you felt out of place was an understatement.

The way their Father was staring you down only added to your stress, but then again you learned long ago he just looked like he wanted to murder everyone in the room, he was quite sweet to you, often treating you like the daughter he never had,

"Am I in trouble?" You asked with a nervous laugh, hands wringing themselves ragged under the table.

"Of course not Hun! We were just talking about how you spend so much time here and how you're always bouncing back and forth." Carla sat down at the table to lay her hand palm side up, her silent request was met by you giving her your own, she began rubbing calming circles into the skin, trying to pacify your unease.

The effect of your absence on the boys, no matter how short of a duration, was becoming more and more volatile. Manny had begun acting out the longer you spent out of his reach, he'd be in such a foul mood he'd start snapping at his twin, a feat that unnerved everyone in the house because if Manny was mad enough to actually raise his voice at Marcos, something was very wrong in the universe.

Anytime you were not under the watchful gaze of one of her sons they seemed to deflate, curl into themselves. The clouds hanging over each of their heads, made the whole house feel like a ticking time bomb, she wasn't a dumb woman, she knew exactly who her husband was and exactly how alike her children were.

They were all so loving and kind, most of society couldn't understand the deep, raw, brutally honest way they felt their feelings, but she could, she knew what her sons needed to keep their heads on straight.

It seemed like the most rational course of action to the older woman, the way their heavy mood would instantly dissipate whenever your presence was near, plus she adored you like one of her own.

"We want you to move in you're practically my daughter already and it just is so lovely having you home, where we know you're safe." You felt your eyes widen at the statement, a million things ran through your mind but the strongest feeling was this warmth, your eyes begin to water, opening and closing your mouth in shock at the generous offer, "Oh god- that's the nicest thing anyone's ever offered me but- I don't know how long it'll take me to get a job-" the older woman's usually soft features soured at the words, "What job? You're just a child, don't worry your pretty head about any of that. Besides you stay here so often that nothing would really change." She looked to her husband to continue.

Their father wasn't much of a talker but whenever he did speak to you it was always awkwardly pleasant. "Before you start with that crap- it's nothing and you're already family so quit the yappin' and move your shit in your room already."

Your parents put up a bit of a fight but ultimately relented, knowing you were never as happy as you were when with the Delmonts.

That decision was what truly sealed your fate.

As you grew up alongside them, their toxic behavior seemed like the norm.

As if it was normal for the brothers to be the only friends you had, Marcos isn't proud of it but he'd use his popularity to slander your name, start a rumor here and there- nothing too bad! Just enough lies to keep the general population uninterested in you, if anyone ever dared to hurt you in any way because of these actions they'd be stopped before they got the chance.

In Marco's mind, it was a flawless plan because neither he nor his twin would let anything close enough to even touch you, they never left your side, going so far as to threaten the principal into giving you all the same classes, he was happy to keep lying if it meant you only looked to them for comfort.

It seemed perfectly fine for Ricky to stop you one day and ask you to install a tracking app on your phone, "You never know what kinda' psychos you're dealing with, at least with this I'll always know where you are- just in case." He spoke so confidently and so surely, you never questioned him, Ricky was the smartest person you knew, and he was always watching your back in ways you didn't even know you needed.

Gabe had this habit where he'd hover, like a guard dog, no matter how old you got he never grew out of his habit of looming over your shoulder, ready and waiting for a threat so he could sink his teeth into it, but their grip wasn't always as tight as it was today.

Before the unanimous decision to keep you to themselves, you'd managed to get a crush on some lowlife boy in your class, he'd gotten wind of your feelings and he thought it be funny to ask you out as some kind of cruel joke when you'd inevitably found out, you'd rushed home after school, not having it in you to wait for the twins like always, you felt too embarrassed to face them. Thankfully Gabe had football practice and Caspian had his cooking club, and you knew Ricky went straight to the shop after school so you managed to sneak into the house, undetected.

That is where mama Delmont found you a good two hours later, the boys still weren't home, and she thanked god because when she caught sight of your still sobbing form, buried face first in your pillow, the silent cries soaking into the fabric.

You were all but inconsolable, weeping into her arms as she tried in vain to soothe you. Had you looked up you would have seen the fear on her face. Because she knew something awful would come of this.

It didn't take long for the tale-tell the sound of their front door slamming shut. She heard a distinct set of footsteps running towards the (h/c) haired girl's room. She quickly stood to her feet and intercepted the two troublemakers before they could enter.

"Is she here? She left before us." Manny looked frantic, wide eyes darting from the door behind his mother to his twin. "That isn't like her, sum' wrong I just know it." Marcos placed a comforting hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "What happened Ma?"

She managed to get a few words out of you that summed up the situation. "Some stupid boy hurt her feelings. I think she's feeling a little embarrassed so maybe-" before she could finish Manny's hand gently moved her aside before slinking into your room, Marcos followed after only seconds behind him.

They spent a good hour coaxing the full story from you, sandwiching your sniffling body between them in a bear hug from both sides.

After the older brothers all got home, Marcos took the initiative to fill them in, mostly because Manny refused to leave your side, and Gabe had to leave the room because he needed to hit something, bad.

He was quiet as a ghost that night at dinner, in fact, most of the boys were, as your disheartened face was all too fresh in their minds. Caspian gave Gabe a look before he went to bed, a silent conversation taking place between the two.

In the dead of night Gabe snuck out his window and took off like a bloodhound, it took little to no effort to get the kid's full name from the school's website, and he soon after found his address.

He waited in the shadows, hood pulled up, the facemask he wore concealed the snarl on his face, the baseball cap shrouding his poisonous glare.

Gabe's ruby eyes were like slits as he waited, silent and still as a statue. His all-black outfit blended him seamlessly into the darkness, he forced his trembling hands to remain by his side, feeling himself vibrate in his skin, the rage bubbling under the surface threatening to pour over and consume him, but he made himself be still.

His efforts in self-control were rewarded as the teen who'd made the fatal mistake of breaking your heart walked out his backdoor with a trash bag in hand. He dragged his feet towards the can without a care in the world. Unknowingly delivering himself to his end.

Before he could lift the lid his neck was grabbed in a vice-like grip, Gabe yanked him into the bushes, dragging the scrawny guy by his throat he finally stopped once he found something hard enough to slam him into.

The surprised yelp that left his mouth brought a small sliver of joy to Gabe.

But not nearly as much joy as it brought to knock his skull against the concrete, his hand was so big he only needed one to do it.

He'd only gone out that night with the intention of roughing him up, making him pay for your tears with his blood, but the longer he wailed on the sputtering male, the angrier he got.

"Fucking piece of shit!- you got some kinda' nerve!" He stopped his assault to bring the bloodied face closer to his own. "You fuck with her feelings like that and expect to just walk away?"

To be blessed with your love, to reject it so coldly? The venomous mix of jealousy and anger had him repeating the violent motion until the other male's face turned to unrecognizable mush.

When he made it home, after dumping the body in its own garbage can, of course, Ricky and Caspian were up waiting for him in his room.

"You do it?" The youngest of the three asked chewing his thumb, eyes flickering to and from the door as if he expected his parents to burst in, while Caspian handed Gabe a warm towel, knowing he'd come home covered in gore.

The proud smile on his face was all the reassurance Gabe needed.

"I had to." Gabe began wiping at his soaking hands, the pride in defending your honor had the adrenaline pumping. Ricky gave his older brother a small smile, nodding to himself, "Course you did big guy- c'mon get clean then meet us in the garage."

After tossing his blood-soaked garments in a bag to deal with later, he joined his brothers downstairs. They kept the lights off in order not to arouse suspicion.

"Ricky has an idea," Caspian said as soon as Gabe entered, he was leaning against his father's car, a hand toying with his bottom lip, a look of contemplation.

Ricky made a point to look across each of his siblings before starting.

"We can't let what happened today happen again." The long-haired man spoke leaning on the red workbench with his knuckles.

"She sees the best in everyone which means it falls to us to keep the scum of the world at bay."

"Look what happened when we didn't have our eye on her for one second, she still up there crying, and if we don't do somethin' now we're just as bad as the piece of shit who made her like that." He watched the way each of their faces scrunched in displeasure.

"It's gone on unspoken for years but since we all clearly care about her we need to come to an agreement, here and now."

Their silence told him to continue, "We all want her, and we can either kill each other about it or we can come to a compromise."

"What kind of compromise?" Marcos asked from his seat on the washing machine. His smirk told Ricky he knew exactly what he was talking about.

"We share. Simple."

"Agreed- I know nobody but us would love her the way she deserves, seems rational t'me." Caspian spoke up quickly, making his way to Ricky's side, clapping a supporting hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"What if I-someone gets jealous?" Manny asked toying with the fabric of his sleeves, his eyes darting from sibling to sibling. "Then we talk about it- the only way this works is if the communication is on point. You feel like someone's hoggin' her, tell us okay?" Ricky spoke softly, despite the pain in his ass Manny was on a daily, he had a soft spot for the guy.

"We gotta' make it official! Ooh, what about a blood pact!" Marcos jumped off the machine, wildly gesturing with his hands.

"You dumb fuck we already share the same blood." Ricky rolled his eyes so hard he swore he saw his brain, Gabe snickered at the jab, throwing his obnoxiously large arm over the smaller man's shoulder. "C'mon Rick, baby boy just wants to make it official- let the little weirdo do his blood thing."

From that night on, after a quick cut to each of their palms, they were sworn to you.

Ricky had made it abundantly clear they couldn't move too fast or you'd freak out, so they wait it out, slowly prepping you for the day when they can finally stop hiding their devotion.

But they're not all that good at hiding it, it slipped out in lots of little ways.

Caspian always had you eating, he made a point to make little snack bags for you before school each morning, even if he didn't go to school that day he'd made sure one of his siblings got you your treat, and he left little encouraging notes in each one. The side you didn't get to see was how he intercepted every love note and gift that wasn't from him or his brothers, ripping and tearing at the items like an animal. Only to replace them with his own. Anonymous of course.

The Twins did a pretty good job keeping everyone else away since they were around you the most, one would distract you while the other beat the shit out of anyone who even thought to cause you problems.

By the time of your 22nd birthday, you'd long since moved into your own place, a place they helped you pick out of course, not too far from each of them, Caspian made sure to install some cameras the day he helped you move in.

They'd each fallen so deep into their obsession, there was no hope for you.

But you were none the wiser.

After all, why would you expect any of them to harbor romantic feelings when you've known them nearly all your life? When they treated you like their own family?

Marcos was a lover by nature, he had a different hottie on his arm faster than you could count, it seemed like before you could ask their name he'd replace them. And this was completely on purpose.

He was so terribly afraid you'd see through him, catch on to the truly dark, ever-growing feelings, and turn tail, he made a point to discuss his late-night adventures with you always hanging off your reaction, hoping one day he'd see a flicker of jealousy in your eye, just so he had an excuse to tell you what he so desperately hid.

You have no idea he's imagining your face every time he's intimate with someone, how his dates always had some sort of echo of your being, be it (e/c) eyes or the same haircut, he sought you out in everyone.

Cas and Gabe always tried to take care of you, be it making sure you ate that day or walking on the street side of the sidewalk just in case, they'd been doing these little things for as long as you can remember, the almost possessive way they cared for you had gone on so long you no longer batted an eye when they got in one of their moods, you just assumed that brotherly instinct to provide carried over to adulthood.

You were completely unaware of the darkness in their hearts.

Ricky confided in you much like the way a husband would, he made a point to fall asleep with you whenever he got the chance, he liked to imagine you were his, enjoying the domestic way you snuggled into him, or how you always went to him to unwind from your day, it fueled his deepening obsession.

He often has you over, tucked away in his room, just having you close by relaxes him completely. Funny considering all you do is just exist in the same space and suddenly his migraine is gone and he smiles for the first time that day, you just think you're being a good friend, but to Ricky, you're giving him a space to safely bare his soul and he doesn't take this kindness lightly.

Manny is your self-proclaimed best friend, he spoke to you the most and was at your place so often he had a drawer just for his clothes. He believes the two of you are not only soulmates but twin flames.

The way you sync up is too perfect to not be a love destined for the stars!

It was one of those days where he was lounging around your place like a house cat, sprawled out on your bed, head fuzzy from being surrounded by your heavenly scent. The grin on his face only grew at the sight of your towel-clad form, you were so comfortable around him this was normal, but he never got used to being so fucking close to you like this, he could see the sporadic beads of water falling down the crevice of your chest. His throat tightened as he watched the droplet fall. His tongue flicking out over his canines, his ring-clad fingers gripped the cotton of your sheets in an attempt to calm down.

The sight had him turning to lay on his stomach, in an attempt to hide his growing hard-on, he pretended to be scrolling on his phone, eyes frantically flicking from your goddess-like form. "Sorry- didn't know you were coming over or I woulda' showered sooner, you don't mind if I get ready right?"

Manny swallowed dryly, not trusting his voice at the moment.

"Mmhm" His bright orange eyes never left your form as you shimmied your underwear on under the towel. You were talking but all the blood from his head was rushing south, so he didn't catch a word until you said,

"-date, I mean I've never been on a real one so I'm nervous ya know? I almost called Marcos up to ask for advice but he'd never let me live it down." You giggled to yourself slipping on the lace bra. Meanwhile, his mind was melting. How could you drop such a bomb on him at a time like this?! he was torn between kissing you and bursting into tears.

"W-uh, date? like with a person?" he tried to keep his tone light, but he could feel himself beginning to unravel at the seams. His hands anxiously wringing themselves in his lap. He'd sat up the second he heard the word date come out of your mouth. His shoulders tense as if he were about to pounce.

"Yeah, you know that cute guy from the cafe we go to? He wrote his number on my receipt yesterday and I dunno," You paused to brush a few stray strands away, "I just guess I thought 'god (y/n) you're a twenty-two-year-old virgin and if you keep being the hermit you are, that will never change'." you said slipping on a knit sweater, "Just feels kinda nice to be wanted you know?" You offered a shrug as you began browsing your clothes for bottoms that satisfied you, completely unaware of the total mental breakdown your bestie was having on your bed.

He made up some half-baked excuse to leave and all but ran to his car. He could hardly close the door from how blurred his vision was, hot, salty tears cascading down his face, his cheeks flushed in unfiltered frustration, You wanted to feel desired? God, he could wring Ricky's neck right now, if Manny had it his way you'd have been theirs ages ago, but nooo, Ricky said to play it cool- now look what happened, he could hardly breathe as he hit his speed dial.

"Yo-" Marcos was interrupted by the loud sob from his younger brother, he immediately brushed the person off his lap and made his way outside, face set in stone, knowing his twin he figured it could be anything that set him off.

"Ya gotta breathe little man- y'know I can't understand you when you get like this." he sighed through his nose, his index and thumb fingers gently massaging the bridge of his nose.

"SHE'S GOING ON A- A DATEEE." Now that Marcos could understand, his eyes widened as he laughed to himself in disbelief.

"No she's not." he shook his head, an empty smile on his face, as he kept waiting for the 'gotcha'

"She is! I-I was at her h-house and she," he cut himself off with another whimper, Marcos, feeling his blood pressure reach a dangerous new high forced his tone to be as calm as he could, "What even- How is that even possible? We're with her 24/7, how in the fuck-" he scoffed cutting himself off. "Look where are you? I'll come with Cas, he'll get your car while you ride back with me and tell me exactly what she said." Manny gave him a shakey 'okay' before sending his location.

It wasn't rare for all the Delmont boys to be together in one room, in fact, they had weekly meetings just to talk about everything cute you did that week.

This was different.

The air in the room felt dark. Like all their negative emotions had festered into a poison.

Ricky had called them all to his home office since his place was the biggest.

He was the last to arrive as he'd been hard at work in his father's shop- he dropped everything the second he got Caspian's call. Gabe sat in his desk chair, he flipped a pen back and forth between his fingers, the dark look in his eye meant nothing but trouble if Ricky didn't fix this soon. The twins were huddled on the couch he'd put in just so you had somewhere comfy to be when you visited. Marcos had a lit joint between his teeth, his right leg shaking rather aggressively, he made sure to look Ricky in the eye before ashing it on his previously clean floor.

Manny wouldn't even look at him when he entered, so he knew he was pissed.

Caspian was the only one to properly greet him, but even he could see the horrid mood he hid just under the surface.

After a moment of tense silence, Ricky exhaled sharply through his nose.

"Okay I'll say it, I fucked up." his admission of guilt broke Caspian's foul mood immediately, he knew his brother well enough to know pushing you into some random nobody's arms was the very last thing he wanted. The taller man moved closer to rub Ricky's back affectionately.

"We know you were just doing what you thought was best right guys?" It was rare for Caspian to use his 'Big Brother' voice on them so they knew he was serious. Manny's glare had turned into a small pout, finally looking at his older brother.

"What now Ricky? We do everything you say no question, no matter how many times I wanted to just take her in my arms and hold her the way she deserves- you said not yet." He pointed his finger at the older man, "Well now she's on a date with some fuckin' loser and she has no idea how we feel." Manny had stood during his rant, beginning to pace the room, his hands on his hips. "I know bud, look I thought we'd scare her off but clearly I was wrong." He flicked his tongue against his cheek.

Ricky made his way to his desk, not so gently pushing Gabe and the chair he occupied out of the way. After a few moments under the watchful eye of his kin, he flipped the computer monitor around.

Gabe scooted back over with a sour look on his face, clearly not pleased with his previous removal, his face twisted into pure confusion at the content on the screen.

"You bought a house? This is in the middle of nowhere."

"Exactly." Ricky crossed his arms, anxiously chewing his thumb as the four of them crowded around the desk.

"Is this-" Marcos gaped at the images, his mind running a mile a minute as he realized what it meant.

"Home. Like the forever home ." Ricky then pulled out a manila folder from the drawer to his right. He flipped it open, his heart pounding, as he set it before them. Inside was all the detailed information he'd been collecting over the years, ever the perfectionist he knew he had to pick a place perfect for all of you.

"I've been looking at the land for years, the property is close to a small town but deep enough in the woods that we won't have to worry about strangers. There's a Gym in the basement-" He was cut off by Manny throwing his arms around his shoulders.

"It's so perfect! She loves the forest oh my god she's gonna be so excited! When can we go?- Wait How are we gonna get her to go if she's too busy dating that asshole?" The speed at which his emotions flipped could be scary, but they wouldn't have him any other way, Ricky awkwardly returned the hug with a few pats on his back.

"Don't worry, I have an idea for that too," He turned to face the hulking blue-haired man still in his seat, Gabe pointed at his chest with his thumb, a goofy smile on his face, "Moi? What can I do for ya squirt?" Ricky ignored the nickname, "You gotta get rid of that guy before she goes on the date, I don't care how you do it, just make sure he doesn't show up." Gabe stood up so fast the chair shot backward, he put two fingers to his forehead and gave them all a wolfish grin. "One dead son'ofa'bitch coming right up."

The long-haired man then turned to his oldest brother, handing him a pair of keys from the same drawer he pulled the file from. "Cas I need you to stock up on about two weeks worth of food and anything else you think we'll need, she's gonna need an adjustment period so we gotta be prepared not to leave for a while." Caspian took the keys with a smile, affectionately rubbing the twin's heads as he all but ran to his car. "Oh! I'll get started on dinner soon as I get there-" The gentle giant trailed off now talking to himself.

"Okay, you two probably got the most important jobs, think you can handle it?"

Both men nodded their heads simultaneously, each looking like a puppy about to get a treat, which in a way, was exactly what they were.

"When that dickhead inevitably stands her up tonight I need you two to be there for her, order some comfort food, and when I text you the signal, give her these." He handed them a small bag of pills. "Gotta make sure she eats or drinks at least two of em', she should be out like a light in no time and when that happens, Marcos will pack everything on this list." Ricky handed him the paper with a stern look, "No extra, just what's on here got it?"

"I'm not gonna steal her panties or somethin'- I'm not Gabe." The older twin scoffed taking the list with a pout. "Considering we're trying to make it look like a voluntary vacation, we can't take any risks okay?" The older twin nodded, happy to be given the task around you.

Before the two buzzing men left for their tasks, the oldest one turned to Ricky with an evil little smirk, "What'r yooou gonna do while we're out doing all the leg work hm?"

"Somebody's gotta make the world believe she's going, I'm just gonna go on all her socials and leave a long enough trail of evidence that if anyone does come sniffing around, it looks like she's been planning to leave for a while." He shrugged as if it was normal making Marcos laugh so hard he had to lean against the door frame.

"What an evil genius."

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cannedpickledpeaches · 2 months

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Insert Your Name (2)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to part one, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve!

Notes and TW: Part 2 focuses on a bit of context. I’m sorry that not much romance is happening, it’ll exist later I promise. This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Eventually, you grow bored of watching the three of them interact. It all goes exactly as the story says, anyway, down to the dialogue. Instead, you step soundlessly into the hallway and up the stairs to the attic.

You like the attic of this house. Warm sunlight spills in during the afternoons, and when it gets too hot in the summer, opening the window lets in the sea breeze. Not claustrophobic, but cozy. Your feet bring you to your usual spot, the narrow window seat. You have always preferred small spaces. Floyd once laughed and compared you to fish that hide in coral reefs.

Your fingers dig under the cushioned seat and lift it to find a compartment. Nestled inside is what seems to be a regular notebook. You place your hand on the cover and let your magic roll over it like heavy fog. Its plain, blank pages fade into the appearance of a manuscript—no, a stack of printer paper stapled together that contains the information that completely changed your understanding of this world. This humble manuscript tells the “original story.”

You found it while cleaning the attic. Neither Jade or Floyd could confirm its origins or its author. The cover page is blank, save for the title: (Y/N)’s Story. At first, you thought it was a prank that the two were playing on you, so you read through the entire thing. The writing is immature, rampant with purple prose, and the grammar has more than room for improvement. Neither twin writes this way. Floyd lacks the patience to write past a page and Jade is too much of a perfectionist. They could have hired someone, but there are too many personal details in there for your comfort. You decided to put it down and mull it over.

The very next day, Jade ate an unknown mushroom and proceeded to find out that his body strongly disagreed with it. For three nights, he laid in bed with a fever. At first, you thought nothing of it, but the description of the mushroom he ate was uncomfortably familiar. The manuscript mentions this event as a quirky flashback meant to create insight to Jade’s character. Of course, it brushes off the absolutely miserable state he was in for the comedic factor. This alone was not enough. You needed more proof.

The next one was Floyd. He took a broom twenty meters off the ground before his mood suddenly flipped and he could no longer come back down. The story mentions this in another flashback, but does not mention your involvement in flying up there and helping him down. Only the information relevant to the main characters is important enough to mention. Again, it could easily be brushed off as a normal Floyd antic if it weren’t for the detail that he rode and nearly broke his mother’s broom. It was the first and only time any of you had seen it. Their mother, like most merfolk, is not fond of flying.

Once is a coincidence. Twice is suspicious. You confided in the twins. They, understandably, said you were being paranoid. Weeks passed until the next major event, and this time, you could no longer ignore it. This time, the event nearly uprooted the entire Leech Mafia.

You did not watch it happen. You received a text from Jade that asked you to come to a private hospital with an uncharacteristic urgency, so you tipped the taxi driver handsomely to push the speed limit and skirt around traffic laws. When you arrived, you found Mr. and Mrs. Leech lying in pristine white hospital beds with ashy faces. Someone cursed their dinner. You had to physically grab on to both twins—Floyd so that he wouldn’t start breaking things, and Jade so that he wouldn’t immediately leave and track down the assassin himself. You understood those sentiments, but at the moment, both of them needed to be there.

No matter how many specialists they hired and bribed, nobody could figure out how to undo the curse. Luckily, or perhaps not, their parents fell into comas. Their life was still intact, but to what extent? For how long? And most importantly in a logistical sense, who would run the Leech Mafia?

Jade was the one who decided he would take up the mantle while pretending to be his parents. Too many beings, human and merfolk alike, would eagerly sink their teeth into their organization if word got out that the bosses of the largest syndicate of the Coral Sea were comatose. The idea was to stop all in person events and have him run the operations behind the scenes. Floyd would help, of course, but his fickle personality made him unsuitable to run such a large and complex network. Not that he wanted to. He hated all that responsibility.

When things settled down, you brought their attention back to the book. Rereading it with the recent developments regarding the twins’ parents made the cheesy, ridiculously over-exaggerated story seem like a threat. Did someone write it with clairvoyance? Did the assassin write it before committing the crime? Or, in the most unlikely scenario, is the story written by someone from the future? Regardless, after much discussion, one thing was clear: if real life progresses the way the story is written, then not only will the Leech Mafia prosper, the most important people to the twins will be cured with relative ease.

The solution is simple, given the rules which the story operates under. (Y/N) attracts the love and attention of anyone rich, famous, beautiful, talented, or otherwise an eligible bachelor. Thus, through heavy-handed author intervention, she becomes friends with a certain Vil Schoenheit. It so happens that he can brew potions and cast curses with his eyes closed, and anyone who can make such things is always careful to keep in mind how to unmake them as well. Vil, with all his natural talent and hard work, is nothing short of a genius when it comes to such unsavoury usages of magic. Such a complex curse takes him months in the story to dispel, but the most important thing is that he does manage it at the teary request of the story’s favourite protagonist.

The twins and Vil graduated from the same high school. Although acquainted, they are far from on good terms. With his connections in the entertainment industry, it didn’t take long for him to put two and two together and realize the two eel merfolk with the surname Leech are related in some way to the infamous Leech Mafia run by merfolk. Vil, despite his villainous air and name, is at heart a terribly good person. As soon as he realized the twins were involved in organized crime, he cut off contact completely.

But of course, the lovable (Y/N)’s doe eyes and fluttering lashes make him cave in. She can be quite useful in her own right.

You make yourself at home on the window seat, rereading the next chapter of the story. It is a nervous habit rather than out of necessity. By now, you can probably recite the story word for word by heart. The misspellings, the unpolished grammar, every bit of what seems to be a novice writer’s fantasy of an idealized romance. The mystery of the author’s identity constantly nags at you. What are their motives? How did they manage such a thing? The more you think about it, the more questions arise.

Sunlight makes its slow journey across the attic floor. When Floyd’s head pops up through the trapdoor, the patch of light on the wall glows a saturated orange.

“They left,” he announces, boredom seeping into his tone. Never one to be idle. “Whatcha doin’? Reading it again? It’s not gonna change, y’know.”

“I know.” If only it would. You bookmark the manuscript exactly where the story is currently at and slip it back under the window seat. Without your magic to feed the concealment spell, it returns to the appearance of a regular, blank notebook. It’s a precaution you took in case it goes missing. “Do you want to go on a short trip with me?”

His eyes light up and catch the fiery remnants of the setting sun. The yellow one seems to glow, while the olive one displays more gold flecks than green. Sometimes, it can be easy to forget that he isn’t a hyperactive, harmless puppy, that a single swipe of his claws can tear out a windpipe.

Danger presents itself in various ways with him. Everytime you get into his car, you regret it. In fact, you regret the day you didn’t stop him from getting his driver’s license. How he got the license is a mystery in and of itself. The way he drives is most certainly illegal, and the scenery flashing past the windows could very well be your life flashing past your eyes. When the expensive sports car finally screeches to a halt, you slump back in your seat and take several deep, shaky breaths.

“Remind me why we couldn’t get your private chauffeur to bring us here?”

Floyd’s grating laugh scratches its way into your ears. “Because it’s way less fun!”

You would beg to disagree, but a conversation like that goes nowhere with him, so you relent. You get out of the car, Floyd laughing at your unsteady legs, and ring the doorbell of yet another ridiculously large mansion.

Azul personally opens the door. Normally, his housekeeper answers the door and shows you to his office. He must be feeling somewhat worried in his own way. He leads you to the basement, his hands fidgeting with a small device.

“I don’t get it,” Floyd whines, draping an arm around Azul’s shoulder. “Can’t we just use Jade’s Signature Spell?”

Azul brushes him off and adjusts his shirt, the slight tick in his eyebrow giving away his annoyance. “We will have to wait until he gets here. You know Jade is . . . occupied at the moment.”

With bringing the lovely (Y/N) home and fussing over her humble lifestyle, no doubt. Since he must be the perfect love interest, he must cater to her every need even as she refuses his help, so he is likely making her dinner at the moment. He’ll surprise her with his knowledge of recipes to use with foraged mountainous plants and fungi, even though he comes from a family where money is not an issue. Rich, but not a spoiled brat. Mature enough to take care of her. Playful and unconventional to endear him to her.

“Knock knock, Handfish. You there?” Floyd raps his knuckles against your temple. Instinctively, you step away from him. He isn’t known for holding back his strength.

“Yeah.” You collect yourself and focus on the task at hand. No use wondering what Jade is doing right now. You have the story memorized—you know what he’s doing.

You enter a dim room. It is such a cliché. Surely, Azul should be more tasteful, but he’s always had a love for theatrics.

A man sits tied to a chair in the center of the room, his face flushed and angry. A handsaw tattoo stands out on his neck. This is Thug Number One, the extra who pulled you and (Y/N) into the alley earlier today. Recognition flickers on his face when they land on you.

“You’re that bitch who ran away! You—”

“What did you just call her?” Floyd’s teeth flash dangerously as his pupils shrink to pinpoints. One hand comes up to roll a shoulder back, popping his joints like he’s getting ready to throw a punch. Some habits never change. There hasn’t been any reason for him to get physical lately. He must be itching for a fight. “You wanna say that again? Come on. I dare you.”

Thug Number One shuts his mouth and looks to the side. No sane person would respond when the slightest nudge might set him off. Ever the crafty one, Azul orders Floyd to stand down. He’s playing the good cop for now.

“Now, now, Floyd. I understand that you want to protect the honour of our good friend, but let’s calm down and talk this out rationally.” What a load of lies. You know Floyd too well to assume that he’ll get angry on your behalf for something like this. He just wants to expend energy. “Yes, let us have a civil conversation—”

“Like hell! You tied me up and left me in this chair for hours—”

“And it would have been longer if we did not decide to visit you on a whim.” You stand in front of him, scrutinizing his face. No particularly outstanding features. He is, after all, just a nameless extra to the story.

Of course, he does have a name. Barry Moore, male, thirty-four years old. A low-level soldier of the Carpenter Mafia who joined two years ago. No family, no friends except his drinking buddies, no real connections. You texted Azul with a request to dig up this information about him while holed up in the attic. He mentioned that he’d expect payment, but you are not too concerned. You are not stupid enough to hand him a blank cheque.

“Barry Moore. I suggest you cooperate.” You pull a chair over and sit in front of him. “It is not my hobby to get violent.”

“You totally should, though.” The dim lighting casts unsettling shadows over Floyd’s face. “You’ll look just like a red handfish. It’s the look that suits you the best, y’know?”

He would think it’s entertaining. A memory of when you first met flashes through your mind. Silvery puffs of breaths in early spring air. Bright splashes of red on sand. Nails dripping blood. Red Handfish.

“I don’t need to right now.”

He huffs and kicks Barry Moore’s chair, making the poor thug flinch. “Booooring.”

“Cry about it.” You turn your attention away from his pout and study your captive. Information on his background is too limited. There is little you can exploit from his personal connections. Nothing tangible or emotional to threaten him with that you are aware of. So you either bribe him with something he wants, or . . . “Instead of me, maybe you should have some fun, Floyd.”

A sharp leer cuts across his face, his razor-like teeth glinting in the harsh light. Slow, lumbering steps bring him closer until he towers over Barry’s hunched body.

“You’re such a hypocrite, Handfish.” His cackles bounce off the bare walls. Madness shines in his golden eye. “Why didn’t ya say so earlier? I’ll make sure to take reeaaaal good care of him.”

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #jade leech #twst jade #twst x reader #twst fanfic #jade leech x reader #floyd leech #azul ashengrotto #mafia au #never let Floyd drive a car #i firmly believe this

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purplephloxpress · 1 year

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总有一天 a place to hide (can't find one near) - yiqie

That’s just the thing, isn’t it? Wei Ying feels nothing. He doesn’t feel anything, and this emptiness should scare him. He knows he should be scared. He wants to be scared. He isn’t. Fear itself is never scary; fear is just a response. It means that your body wants you alive. It’s the absence of terror that scares him.

I had SO MUCH FUN with this bind! This one had a lot of firsts for me, and is one that I really poured my heart into due to its particular emotional impact on me (tl;dr - I was a piano major in college, burned out, this fic helped me fall in love with music again). It's an Untamed WangXian Pianists AU (TW for anyone interested that it deals with attempted suicide and life following that) and I tried to tie that into the design details literally everywhere I could think of. Black and white cover paper, music note scene breaks, and my absolute favorite part to create: sheet music title pages. The particular song used for that is a recurring motif in the fic and one that means a lot to me personally, and I knew I wanted to include it somehow. Unfortunately I couldn't find an existing image of the sheet music that was high enough quality to use how I wanted, so I used a sheet music program to input it myself!

This book was my first time doing any sort of edge decoration, and I had fun figuring out how to splatter paint with a toothbrush (Spouse: is that supposed to be blood? Me: no but also... kind of?) and it was also my first time doing endbands! (Shout out to the friends who walked me through it over voice chat one evening, and then rolled their eyes when I announced that I'd torn them out and done them over again. Twice.) I went with red and black for both of those parts to match the main characters canonical color scheme, and also because I liked the dramatic pop of color against the black and white cover.

Spine titling was done once again with a foil quill, and I decided to paint the Chinese title of the fic on the cover. I couldn't find a paintbrush that let me get as fine tipped and detailed as I wanted so I may or may not have used a toothpick to paint it on.

I prevailed over: somehow deleted half of my page numbers and had to reprint the WHOLE THING! Forgot to measure the boards as part of my spine width and had to do surgery with 2mm strips of paper! (Thankfully had allowed plenty of hinge because I didn't realize until I'd finished ALL of the titling and I would have cried if I couldn't salvage it) Truly this is my child and I adore how it turned out. Is it perfect? No. Are there things I would change? Sure. But I learned and I did and I'm so goddamn proud of it!

(See below the cut if you want specific details on the binding)

What pieces went into making it:

Fandom: The Untamed

Pairing: Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji

Bookcloth: black Brillianta

Cover paper: black and silver marbled lokta

Endpapers: red cardstock

Titling: foil quill, acrylic paint, acrylic paint pen

Endbands: leather cording for the core, DMC embroidery thread for the bands

Body font: Adobe Garamond Pro

Title fonts: Long Cang and Canva Holiday

Text message font: Nirmala UI

Scene breaks created in Canva

Title page sheet music created using MuseScore

#purplephloxpress #ficbinding #wangxian #the untamed #pianists au #yiqie #fanbinding #renegade bindery #adventures in bookbinding

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coffeefiction · 1 year

Text

Love Binds (Wally x Reader) Pt 3

Here is Part 3, things are getting a bit interesting, it might be a bit confusing too, I forgot to mention that I like putting references on my work sooooooooo do keep a look out for that

Would they play a part in the story? We honestly don't know-

TW: Blood, Fire, character death(s), Angst

This page has been touched by the lonely, the spiral, the end, the desolation, and the eye, please be warned

To the people that wanted to have a happy part 3, I am so so sorry to disappoint you all-

Ps: I appreciate everyone's love for the story and their patience, sorry that it took a while to post part 3 but here it is and I hope you all enjoy!

(There is a song at some point but it is more there as a sort of guide for me that I did not took out, it's called "Youth" by Daughter, lovely song by the way)

{ Part 1 Part 2 [Part 3] Part4 }

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

Weeks passed and Wally had never felt so numb, once a joyous man slowly spiral down into sadness and despair. Memories of you linger around his mind, walking like it owned the place and maybe it did...Maybe you had always that effect on him, it's no wonder how you guys hit it off instantly when you two found out that the other lived in the same neighborhood even though you two barely knew each other in college. You were always a force he wasn't scared to be around with....memories of your laughter and smiles toward him were something he cherish the most.......W̴̨̤̮̭͎̋͗ͅh̷͚́͠y̷̡̟̯̰̬̿͛́̔̔̚ ̵̖̉̿ï̶̡͎̩̃̑͒̚s̸͔̥̩̒ ̵̢͚͔̟̬̪̂̓͊͂̍͝í̵̝̗͂̍̂̕ţ̴̉̄͊̚̕ͅ ̶̼̘̜́s̵͉͈̝̑̏͂̒̔̕o̵͖̻̊̍͋̆̀̍ ̸̫̻̟͕̭̒̽̋͗̍̐h̵͚̎̿̚ḁ̵̢͔̩̗̪̈̃̐̋r̸̲͍̻̃͊d̴͚̮̤̣̓ ̴̻̺̻̥̞̏̑͒̍ͅt̶̩̦̟̃̉́o̶̦̩̝̪̳̮͑̒̃̓͠ ̷̤̮̼̽̇͒̾ȓ̴̗̗̬̞ͅḛ̵̼̯͒m̷̖͈̟̻̞̎͠e̸̪̥̅̃͘m̴̫̜͈̺̻͖̉̉̿̐̚b̷̞͚̟̫̩̌̅̿̆ẻ̸͈͓̱̙̫̠̈͆̇r̶͎͔͔̣̰̈́̈́?̵̨̻̩͙̟͉̌̄̿̍̀.̷̡̛̤̦̦̀̿͊̈́̆ͅ.̶̢͙̤̟̬̎͜.̶̨̟̭̙̰͎́͐̇̀͌

As time moves, regret and anger filled him, not towards you....never towards you...he...he cares too much to even direct that to you...

It was towards himself...He was careless, he lost you and he didn't even notice it, did not notice it until it was too late. He had reached a point where he refused to interact with anyone, just staying inside his home and wallowing in this sadness and grief he feels. When all of your friends found that, they were shocked then slowly....they realized the things he had realized...At first, they thought he was pulling a joke, but there was no laughter nor were there in smiles in the first place...

Wally's friends would try their best to get him to leave his home but after the second week, all had decided to leave Wally on his own, and let him process things at his own pace oddly enough, Wally appreciated that, he needed to process things, get his thoughts right.

But Veronica would visit him to check on him, she doesn't try to coax him out of his house but she would accompany him, making sure he doesn't feel lonely. Wally would allow it, welcoming his friend inside his home and the two would either talk or just sit in silence, a comfortable silence as Wally either paints or simply just sit down to gather his thoughts.

And the cycle would repeat, a routine he and Veronica had fallen in. He appreciated it, not saying he doesn't appreciate his other friends' efforts but he wants someone that wouldn't just make him pull himself together just cause. So Veronica just simply accompanying him was enough for him.

More time passes and he longs for you, he longs for that laughter of yours, your silly jokes, your presence. Why did everything end like this? How did everything end like this?...

He's not sure anymore...

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

Shadows settle on the place that you left Our minds are troubled by the emptiness

Wally stood in the middle of the room, looking at you. You stood in front of Wally with a sad look, hugging yourself as the room is filled with mist and fog, cradling you as if you were its child.

Destroy the middle, it's a waste of time From the perfect start to the finish line

Slowly, you turn you back on him, walking into the thick fog. He tried to grab you, follow you as the mist slowly engulf you. He called out your name, begging you to come back. With one final look at Wally, you walk into the fog, an acceptance to the situation you were in.

And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones 'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs

Wally falls on his knees, sobbing and breathing heavily as the fog hugs him, cold and damp just as how he remembers. He cried out, wanting this feeling to stop. He falls on the hardwood floor as darkness clouded his vision.

Setting fire to our insides for fun Collecting names of the lovers that went wrong

Shooting up, he gasp, looking around as smoke filled the room. Coughing, he tried to stand up and look around. The room was engulfed in fire. He called out to someone...a name he can't seem to remember...

Running up the stairs, looking and shouting a name he can't hear himself say but he's saying it, and his crying as he says it.

Pictures of people that he feels like he knows hang on the walls. One where there was a man and a woman with him, both seems to look just like him.

One was where it seem to be when he was young, barely seven...that's specific...

He ignored it, he ignore the photos that hang even if they felt familiar to him.

We are the reckless, we are the wild youth

He hears people shouting from the outside, begging him to get out, to leave the place but he continued. Looking from room to rom, he's begging.

Slowly, his visions blur once again. Falling down to his knees, coughing as smoke filled the room even more. Slowly he falls, hitting the floor once more.

Chasing visions of our futures One day we'll reveal the truth

Gasping as he awakens from another, he looks around. Rain falls and gray angry clouds filled the horizon. He called out someone's name as he stand up. He holds his shoulder, feeling pain in it like it has been stabbed or shot...Maybe it did? He can feel the blood and can smell it but why does it feel like it isn't his?...

He continues with his venture, walking and shouting someone's name once more. Who's name is he shouting?... He shakes his head, trying to clear away that blocking mist.

Slowly....he can hear the name he was shouting...

And slowly...he saw who he was looking for....

That one will die before he gets there

And if you're still bleeding, you're the lucky ones

"(Y/N)!!" He shouted, running towards the body that lays on the ground, tears streaming down his face as he almost trips getting to you...

"no no no no no!" He pulled the cold body close to him, holding the wound that seems to spill blood everywhere....He feels tired too...

He called out your name, begged and cried for it, for you to wake up...Why aren't you waking up!?...

'Cause most of our feelings, they are dead and they are gone We're setting fire to our insides for fun

He held you close, sobbing and begging as the rain continues to fall down the the both of you. The forest was silent except for the rain. He look up and beg to whatever god is out there to bring you back...to take him instead of you...

"Please....."

"Not them....they all that I have left..."

We're setting fire to our insides for fun Collecting pictures from a flood that wrecked our home It was a flood that wrecked this

And He was back to that house, people arguing as he hides behind the wall. He listens in.

"This is the problem, Wallace!! You are so paranoid!!"

"If I am paranoid then explain to me will you!!"

"Explain what exactly?! Explain that my husband is a paranoid lunatic?!"

"Who was that man you were with Willow..."

Silence fills the room as Wally looks into the kitchen where his mother and father were.

"Wallace, for the last time, he was just a friend!!"

"If he was a friend then why were you making out?! Willow for god sake! WE have been married for how long now exactly?! We have a son!!"

"THAT thing is not my son!!"

"Don't even start-"

"NO WALLACE!! THAT thing upstairs is not MY son!!"

Wally simply looks as the younger version of him runs upstairs, alerting the two, and was soon followed by the man he deems as his father, calling out his name and glaring at his nasty mother that had done nothing but insult and ridiculed him growing up.

Slowly, he walks away, going through a door. Ignoring the woman who decided to leave the stove open, ignoring as how the room was slowly engulfed with fire.

Well, I've lost it all, I'm just a silhouette I'm a lifeless face that you'll soon forget

He had lost sight of many things growing up, excused people's poor behavior towards himself till you came into his life, till you gave him a push that he needed to finally acknowledge that there was something wrong based on how he grew up. Years of friendship with you did him a good thing, a better thing, more than everyone in his life had done...

So why is it so hard to see you now?.....

My eyes are damp from the words you left Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest

Tears once again fall down his face, damp by the words that leave his mind, he cried as he watches both the young version of himself and the one that lost you to a point where it felt like you died...

The ringing soon followed, as both begged for the person they love to come back, the person that accepted him as himself....

Ringing in my head, when you broke my chest

More ringing as he felt something inside of him shatter like a glass.

Cracking even more as he watches...

The fog was back, hugging and cradling him as if he was its son....this time he was alone...

And if you're in love, then you are the lucky one

"Wally?"

He turns to the voice and there you sat down with him under the tree, up upon a cliff that overlooks the neighborhood you both live in. Up upon that cliff where he fell in more than one way...

"You alright there?"

Gentle as always, you ask him. He smiles at you, a loving one " I'm alright neighbor"

"Be honest with me Mister or I swear-" He laughs " Or what??" he tease as he nudges you, tempting you.

You simply rolled you eyes at him with a smile, leaning against him as you both look down at the neighborhood. He looks down at you, wanting and wishing to stay at this moment, a moment where it's just you and him, a moment where he still had you and you still had him.

But not everything can stay how he want it to be...

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

The birds chirp from the outside, the sun was slowly rising up to greet the neighborhood. Wally rises up from his bed, rubbing his eyes as he stared outside tiredly. He lets out a heavy sigh, letting his hair fall down.

After a few minutes of staying in bed and debating with himself, he finally stood up and left the comfort of his bed. Walking to a door to get himself ready for the day while fixing a picture that hang on the wall as he walked by it.

A picture of you and Wally up upon a cliff, underneath a tree, overlooking the neighborhood.

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

I hope you all enjoyed this!!

By the way, how are the colors and fonts treating you guys?

Tagged:

@venus-rome @capricorn-anon @mythjustiice @thecastanova @naruucore @terrybadz @anonymouslymadebydesign @lipstickghoulie @its-paprika @jaml0ver @quietuwu @totofranken @unluckyredflames @ritualgfs @etherealyblue @honeycovered-bandaids @siiiixxx @ms-dia

@just-random-post @mortallypleasantzombie @moondestiny2 @oceanlue @lillyisnice44 @mintycourage @thesmilingface @alishii @distinguished-procrastinator @justyuki1st @to-gay2-live @orcalover3000 @bunny-masks-blog @s0ggyrats @snappycity @thelivingdiary @soukihiko @tiredly101

#welcome home #welcomehomearg #wally darling x reader #wally x reader #wally x y/n #wally my beloved #wally darling x y/n #wally darling x you #wally x you #wally darling x self insert #welcome home puppet show #welcome home wally #wally darling #wally darling welcome home #wally welcome home

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pawschamp · 11 months

Text

VOL 8#2/CH35: “double team” appreciation

i’m a huge fan of the way nightow encapsulates a certain thematic or specified topic in each chapter, almost making each chapter its own arc with the way a character can change in just a few pages. as an example to appreciate this, i’m using chapter 35 aka “wolfwood doesn’t shoot” chapter aka one of my favorite chapters in the entire series.

warning, this is not a thought out essay, this is just the insane ramblings of a guy that likes trigun and wolfwood. there will be tangents, there will be derails, but overall, it’s a 4k insight into where my mind goes when i read these chapters.

TW WARNING: wolfwood’s backstory pictured (child experimentation, child harm), blood, death

SPOILERS WARNING: mentions of vol 8 events

for consistency sake, i’ll be using overhaul’s translation.

this chapter throws us into the familiar perspective of wolfwood. the readers have been in his shoes, we’re made to understand his thoughts since the very beginning of maximum, considering max started from his perspective. his ordeal and his internal struggle was made clear since the leonef arc, but this chapter serves as a checkpoint of where he is now, paralleling almost to chapter 11 where it had began with wolfwood’s dream + where his internal conflict were first laid bare to readers.

it’s also good to note that this chapter is in vol 6, the vol that takes place after the midvalley/hopper arc. this entire volume consists the internal dialogue of essential characters and where they stand with vash; the first chapter being meryl, then wolfwood, legato, knives, milly (a bit of vash), and then an open ended one, but it leads into vash’s flashback -- obviously, each chapter progresses the story itself too, but the main focus tends to be the thoughts of these characters. i really appreciate nightow writing an immensely thoughts driven and relatively quiet (in terms of action) volume after the heavily action packed previous volume. he does this well in the chapters themselves, knowing when to lead the reader into quiet so we can all feel the scene much more intimately. these chapters become more emotional because we’re settled with each character individually, we lean into their fears, their worry and concerns. the fact we get so little of vash and his thoughts in these chapters aside from the flashback makes him feel distant and lonelier (which, considering his immense guilt of remembering july, it feels purposeful.)

vol 10 will always be my favorite vol but vol 6 is certainly up there... i think it was masterfully put together and nightow’s character writing is one of my favorite parts of trigun. the introspection is such a core part of trigun itself alongside the action and i just appreciate the overall pacing of it and how it eventually leads into vol 7 where we return to vash, to the conflict between the brothers, and then into the harrowing 7 months of destruction on no man’s land where the kind of peacefulness that settled in vol 6 no longer exists for a long time in the future chapters.

anyway, to the chapter now

from the dream alone, we can tell there’s a progression of wolfwood’s risk taking heart beginning to open. from all the time he’s spent with vash and what he’s witness after the leonef arc, he’s starting to change internally, he’s no longer the same as he was at the beginning of trigun. the dream provides a what-if situation, where wolfwood kills off the eye of michael (vague individual, but probably chapel again?), freeing the children.

side note, but it’s particularly sad to me he says “i can never come back, but at least y’all will be safe now.” in an universe where a happy ending could be provided for the orphanage, there still wouldn’t be a happy ending for wolfwood. he can free the orphanage but even the destruction of the eye of michael wouldn’t free him from the man he’s grown into and it’s telling of just how little he believes he deserves to go/have a home.

but the dream then panels to knives and his fear of someone/something other than himself is shown. as i mentioned earlier about how this parallels to chapter 11, in that dream, it showed how wolfwood can’t return to the kids because of the blood that stains his hands, a dream he gets after having killed rai-dei and confronted by vash about his role.

he still feels this way considering his mentioned thought of “can’t return” anymore, but the dream shifts focus to knives because the threat of him looms closer now more than before after having witness vash transform in the previous arc -- and it’s clear him being a first hand witness has influenced his fears considering knives is using his ability within the dream.

overall, wolfwood has sooo much on his mind at this point; he saw vash transform, he came face to face with the rest of the gung-hos, met the strongest gung-ho, seen the price of betrayal with his own eyes (though b/c it was carried out by legato, it doesn’t necessarily hold the same weight)... he’s also done his fair share of trying to get others away from danger, notably when he speaks to meryl in the previous chapter, and tries to ward her away now that she’s seen first hand of vash’s strength, seen below from the chapter right before this. he’s relatively passive in his interactions with meryl so it’s insane how his behavior in ch 35 contrasts with this.

kind of a side note but i’ve always enjoyed this interaction between wolfwood and meryl. this is the first time they actually got to converse and he’s actively reading her and giving her advice; it’s advice he’d give to any average citizen, he’s always been an advocate for regular folks to turn their back so long it can keep them safe, but his advice here definitely felt a little personal considering how he’s gotten to known milly and he Knows for certain that this just isn’t the environment for her. the way he says “This isn’t the place for that cute partner of yers” as a reason to push Meryl to turn away always gets to me, because while there may be an implication for meryl to hightail out of there to protect herself, the discussion ends at wolfwood telling meryl to back out for milly. being with milly in the previous arc, he knows the lengths and sort of reckless, self sacrificial nature that milly has; she who refused to back out constantly, even after having expressed she was terrified, she still stayed, so wolfwood knows that if meryl leaves, then milly would too. he prods meryl, reminds her there’s another life aside from her own she’d be risking if she stayed.

after he wakes up and leaves the bar, he runs into zazie who just drops off a message from knives, as though to taunt him any further lmfao... it’s relevant that zazie shows up here considering wolfwood’s recent meeting with the rest of the gung-hos. zazie in particular is a complacent neutral party amidst the conflict, willing to see things through for knives / legato as long as the worms can be left alone.

one of the funniest lines ever to be delivered to wolfwood, “You’re a scary one. Almost like Bluesummers.” i laugh every time i see it.

but anyway, as stated by wolfwood, he recognizes that the point in conflict has reached far enough that what he does doesn’t necessarily matter anymore. sure, he’ll still keep to his job, but vash is going to end up at knives doorstep no matter what, especially with his recent recollection of july. wolfwood recognizes the minor part he plays, he recognizes how small he is amidst the overarching battle between the twins. i think this realization influences his dream too, being that he had rebelled and felt hope that the orphanage would be left alone, but still, the orphanage can’t avoid the fate that would fall on humanity as a whole. regardless, they would be caught up in what knives does.

then we get to this insane flashback, this Gorgeously illustrated first meeting between wolfwood and knives that haunts me every day of my life. i just want to appreciate this page for a minute, art wise... the tubes forming the composition throughout the panels, trapping wolfwood, encaging him despite him being the one standing over knives. i like how that’s emphasized with the overlap on the top panels and the gun he holds is so small in the bottom right panel. in the bottom left panel, it’s a perspective shot from wolfwood’s eyes, the gun trained onto knives chest (i think compositionally, it just looks cooler which is potentially why it isn’t aimed at knives’ head, but i can also think wolfwood might’ve lost the resolved to kill knives already from fear alone and thus, his gun was lowered.)

also i feel like not only did knives’ presence halt wolfwood but the medical equipment strung to knives might’ve triggered a terrible memory for wolfwood too, considering his experimentation.

above is from ch. 50.

but the focus of this flashback is in knives’ otherworldliness and how despite wolfwood managing to get so far to be face to face with knives, he could not pull the trigger from fear alone. and wolfwood has this humane reaction every time he comes close to death which is a resurgence of a will to live; he feels it in this moment with knives, he feels death closing in on him despite him being the one with the trigger at his finger and knives against the ground.

above from chapter 6.

from the knives flashback, we can see the lack of choice that wolfwood had at that moment. the lack of choice in the mission given to him, the lack of choice in being able to shoot at all. it solidified him into the position where he is today and quelled the rebellion he dreamt of.

from his nightmares to the meeting with zazie to this flashback, remembering knives and his presence and comparing that fear to vash, him remembering the last time he felt that fear from vash at all... although he’s always known vash to be an “other” from humans, when faced with the actuality of it, he starts to think more on their differences and kind of distant himself mentally from vash? by calling him a monster and “the one who can save humankind”, honing in on his inhumane side. he knows vash, but wolfwood is thinking from the memories of knives, he’s thinking from his feelings of fear in that moment with vash, and he probably feels so small, not capable of anything beyond doing his job. as a reminder, this is what he thinks during that scene, similar feelings to how he felt with knives imo although vash’s anger is transformed into outer and inner, almost like he’s trying to kill that anger he holds to upkeep his resolve to not kill.

and in the moment of deep pondering, with brilliant timing, vash calls out to him.

no matter how many times i see this page, i explode with so much emotion. to stay on topic, this panel of vash sitting leisurely on top of a rooftop has a lot of elements to it. the moon he blew a hole into shown right behind him, an ever present reminder of his destructive powers which wolfwood, no doubt, is remembering it distinctively in this moment. but i loooove love how this page contrasts the one with knives. this scene following is just parallels to wolfwood's memory of knives and while in his confrontation of knives, wolfwood was trapped in both a physical and internal sense. the positions being different too, where wolfwood hovered over knives but still remained below in a hierarchical sense while now, vash is above him physically and wolfwood looks up towards him. considering wolfwood's thoughts so far, the positioning is reflective of that. but considering their space, the openness, outside, the expansive sky behind vash alongside the moon, there's so much freedom in where they're both standing. wolfwood is constrained beneath the thoughts he has, his worries, but he has freedom to move around vash and yet wolfwood chooses to go up to meet him.

now i can derail and go a little insane over their expressions here, IDK. im VERY vw-pilled, so excuse me, but VASH'S LOOK TO WOLFWOOD?? "You're a bit of a night owl, huh?" it’s just a plain observation really, the casual nature in how he converses with wolfwood, something he’d recognize over the course of their journey... this also isn’t the ONLY time they’ve met under the moon, they did so in multiple bullets too. gay ass moon couple... whatever... i’ve also seen people note that vash is fake smiling here and perhaps. some days, i can believe that because he is just so goddamn sad during this time, but i also like to think it’s genuine. maybe prior to seeing wolfwood, he was neutrally observing the on going events in the town, but the moment he saw wolfwood strolling about in deep thought, he’s just like “oh, wolfwood! :]” Just being a little happy to not be alone for the night.

it’s a small detail, but i like how nightow incorporates these side missions into the chapter’s arc and the overall theme in little ways. because it’s been these yin-yang brothers that’s been making trouble since the last chapter and in this moment, vash watching these two brothers bringing down mayhem on a peaceful town.

alongside this page, we see wolfwood’s steady approach, vash’s back turned to him as they chitchat before wolfwood quietly

positioned the same way as before, the gun held to a twin that’s positioned lower and wolfwood looks down.

aside from how beautiful he is, i like how wolfwood holds a resolute gaze. he probably feels he has the upper hand, Knows it in some way because vash is seemingly defenseless. if he wanted to, he can shoot.

meanwhile, vash just Looks tired. not necessarily sorrowful, to me, he just looks exhausted. from the many clues later in this chapter, i think the reader can clue in that vash definitely knew wolfwood pointed a gun at him. whether it’s sorrow, a sense of betrayal, or nonchalance is unclear. i think vash might’ve knew wolfwood wouldn’t pull the trigger and if he had, i think vash would’ve felt resigned to it. vash understands the reason why wolfwood kills; in all his instances of killing, it’s been for the sole purpose to protect. when he killed rai-dei, it was to protect vash. when he killed gray, he was doing his part in protecting vash’s home which vash had entrusted to him. there’s tons of thoughts that goes through wolfwood’s head when he does kill and what it means to him personally, but to vash, wolfwood has never killed for a selfish reason so when wolfwood points a gun at him, if he has intentions to kill, there would be a reason that vash understands considering his own beliefs on protecting humanity. i think at the end of it though, he knew wolfwood wouldn’t shoot him.

and wolfwood doesn’t pull the trigger. his hand doesn’t shake, there are no sweat marks on his face, he’s not afraid at all. with a soundless mind, he decides not to shoot. it’s important that we get wolfwood’s thoughts because it’s not as if he has any particular doubts in his own abilities. to wolfwood, if he put a bullet through vash’s head, he may die, he may be immobilized to be easier to kill, etc etc but ultimately, he chooses not to. just prior to meeting vash, he was already riddled with the memory of his rebellions amounting to nothing, so if he had “killed” vash (just like how he had “killed” chapel before), he’d still have to face knives and he’s already experienced once what going against knives was like. he can’t do it, wolfwood wouldn’t be able to kill knives and there would be nothing to ultimately gain from killing vash.

naturally, i think we can also conclude the “reasonable” reasons aren’t the only things keeping him from shooting vash. it’ll be mentioned later, but what wolfwood thinks vs what he does can be fundamentally different because sometimes, wolfwood Just isn’t fully aware of how he acts, doesn’t know it. i think that’s part of the reason we don’t get his thoughts here when he lowers his gun, because he doesn’t know, he doesn’t understand why he can’t shoot vash either. if i had to reason it, it would be what i said before and that’s how i view how wolfwood might reason it, but that isn’t all of it. <-- this thought will be continued later.

i always found it funny how vash looks back because i’m sure he sensed something was weird about how quiet wolfwood was and how nothing was happened, so he just looks at him like “???”

wolfwood hits him with the reminder again of what to keep his focus on, as he usually does, and it’s ironic of him to say “It’ll be pointless if ya get yerself killed before ya meet him.”, having pointed a gun at him literally 2 seconds ago.

anyway, as the story progresses, the yin-yang brothers has started to blow shit up and vash, ever so involved, runs after to stop them. wolfwood, diligent, runs after vash.

i don’t have a lot to note but i like how vash is called a pretty boy. he is the prettiest boy. the page after this, they basically try to run him over, but vash sidesteps just in time to avoid that and turns towards the car to shoot at them. turns out though, the brother hopped off the car and appeared behind to hurl these sharp thingies at vash’s vulnerable back. please read the next 3 beautiful pages carefully

this sequence is just So well done. it’s very simple to bring back the hard ass table that wolfwood had woken up on and smacked his hand hard against at the start of this chapter, a purposefully strong table made to withstand drunkards... but it was pulled into the fight, to cover that split second to defend vash before wolfwood himself makes it to him. it’s important to note that vash doesn’t even look at wolfwood here. he’s not the least surprised, he’s still keeping his eyes directly on the tank. he does briefly look at the enemy behind him on the previous page for one panel, but i think that glance may have been targeted at the table wolfwood threw. i say this because vash moves fast and if he had wanted to target the yinyang brother behind him, he would’ve shot him already.

the both of them focus on the targets they’re aiming at. vash with his gun can’t break the armor of the tank and wolfwood’s punisher isn’t made for a single target unless he wanted to pulverized the dude with bullets and his aim won’t be precise with the punisher either. they’re mainly talking to themselves on this page, but the fact they don’t even say anything to each other, only giving a single glance before...

changing positions immediately -- understanding where the other had lacked in, understanding what they themselves would be capable of doing and what the other could not... like.... wolfwood quickly changing the punisher’s form to activate the torpedo to take care of the armored up tank and vash quickly getting aim on the yinyang brother the moment he turns around. in just fighting together, it communicated everything we needed to know about their teamwork. and taking into consideration how they’ve been fighting alone for their entire lives only to flawlessly come together as a team despite that... they’ve developed a trust on each other, a trust i think vash is relatively aware of at this point, but wolfwood hadn’t realized it.

i’m saying that because of his expression here lmfao

i think wolfwood can be pretty slow on realizing things for himself. i think for vash, he’s already built a recognition that wolfwood was going to be following him, that wolfwood would be there to protect his back, and i think that feeling stems from personal trust, considering how often wolfwood has done that for him already and i think a bit of that is also vash being aware that wolfwood has a job he’s upkeeping to protect/keep an eye on vash, so he’d expect wolfwood to upkeep that too.

on wolfwood’s end, he turns back to vash immediately, realizing that he had left his own back unattended. wolfwood knows vash, he understands the kind of person he is, but he was still anxious because of all the thoughts he held up throughout this chapter. i don’t think wolfwood’s trust in vash was purposeful prior this chapter and really, there wasn’t any particular scene that showed him trusting vash outright because wolfwood has always moved pretty independently throughout the arcs. it tended to be vash putting his faith in wolfwood instead while wolfwood himself was still trying to figure out where he stood with vash. but through battle, through the nonverbal communication and through instincts, i think that provides a lot of context of how his trust is ingrained instinctually and how despite what he states, what he thinks for himself, he internally already knows otherwise that he would never be able to harm vash, that he has already deeply sided with him.

when the fight is over, vash immediately disarms himself, thanks wolfwood, and his back is once again bare, turned towards wolfwood, vulnerable and full of trust. it’s intentional in how vash shows his trust towards wolfwood and wolfwood, processing, realizing that in full... how despite all of his worries, his fears, pondering about how this monster was going to save humanity, he’s ultimately just looking back at someone who’s grown so close to him. and i think this page is wolfwood coming to realize what his relationship with vash has become. overall, this chapter just feels like the moment when wolfwood has come to be honest and frank with himself on where his allegiance lies. in the previous arc, midvalley came at him constantly about who he was betraying and i think wolfwood was like “what the fuck is he talking about” for a good portion of it up until this chapter.

a lot of what wolfwood had to tackle that previous arc was where he stood in the crossfire. being a gung-ho after having killed “chapel” and stolen his spot which in turn led him to working under knives directly which led him to become vash’s guide, merely a job to be his guide until it no longer was just a job. he has a lot in common with midvalley, both being assassins, both having a heart that lied elsewhere and not in line with knives or legato. they both acted out, betrayed before, and midvalley himself mentioned how the twins were beyond them, higher beings while they were mere insects, or something along those lines... which wolfwood basically echoes similar sentiments here. when midvalley died, he most likely saw a reflection of himself. when he comes before midvalley’s grave, he thinks on that, the “can’t make a stand, even with those fangs of yours”, thinking of betrayal that comes about in his dreams. he knows for certainty that he wants to protect the orphanage; beyond that, i don’t think wolfwood believed he sided with anyone at the beginning of chapter 35. it’s a realization he makes steadily throughout the course of it and only when he’s back to back with vash does he realize he’s already sided with him whether he wanted to or not.

the chapters in vol 6, from all these different perspectives, they all end up concluding something new about vash, something they realize from what they’ve observed of vash in the previous arc and in person. meryl recognizes that vash’s fears and shame won’t stop him from shooting his gun. legato recognizing the significance of if vash could collect all the coins that becomes prevalent in chapter 80s. knives realizing that vash is already in the process of dying due to the black hair. milly seeing vash’s muddled up expression, the smiling facade he holds automatically when he doesn’t know what to do and gets a glimpse into the loneliness he feels.

the significance of wolfwood coming to terms with his feelings of vash makes his actions in vol 8 all the more meaningful and comprehendible. granted, i think throughout the previous chapters, we can all sense this sort of change in wolfwood and how much he cares about vash and all that... but i think the trust that wolfwood solidifies in vash goes beyond personal sentiments. after all, i think wolfwood having saved vash in vol 8 is because he trusted vash would be capable of saving humanity and that trust was enough for him to risk his own life... despite being afraid of dying, despite not being Ready to die, despite his own personal doubts and uncertainties and the echo of rebellions falling into ruins, he still went forth to save vash for the sake of humanity and he trusts that vash, despite his lonesome for those 7 months, would be resolute enough to stop knives. --> i’m saying “for the sake of humanity” because that’s just relevant with his thoughts in this chapter. him freeing vash has multitudes of layers that’s both personal and selfless to the fault, but that’s for another post.

and the final light hearted page in this chapter, where they chit chat a bit casually. i feel like every time we see wolfwood in his off time, he’s always eating something/discussing eating, which is kind of cute. he’s on top of his meals!! and of course, one of the best panels for millymeryl, the utter destruction and devastation in that house and meryl looking like she definitely Did not sleep from the chaos (and probably due to her own nightmares too) while milly is refreshed... they’re the cutest ever.

anyway, that was the last page so that means this chapter is finished! the way this chapter went full circle in regards to wolfwood’s thoughts, how all of his worries eventually led to a resolution to his feelings about vash... i think wolfwood’s point of view is always a gift to explore because his thoughts sometimes conflict to the resolution he comes to, especially when it comes to vash. wolfwood never had a presence like vash in his life, never known someone so different but still so similar to him. it’s all very new, so i think wolfwood’s circling thoughts, confusion, and the eventual choices he make when it comes to vash is a precious insight that i’m Very grateful towards nightow for.

i don’t know how to conclude this, but that’s all i have to observe! i hope it’s understandable what i mean when i say this chapter feels like an arc of itself and yet, it’s still so perfectly entwine with the rest of the plot. wolfwood’s thoughts here are not foreign, his development doesn’t come from nothing; it’s all a steady progression and i think it’s valuable for all the decisions he ultimately makes in the future chapters.

#trigun #trigun analysis #trigun meta #???#trigun maximum #also i didn't know where to put this thought but the title of this chapter is double team #double team can signify to vash and wolfwood's teamwork #it can also signify to wolfwood's troublesome allegiance to both knives and vash #anyway know that im also pulling shit out of my ass sometimes because i think TOO much and too deeply lmfao #i also might not be thinking enough and am wrong about things but WHATEVER!! this is just my view #some of these might just be assumptions and are kind of insane conclusions but i hope - above all else - that it's Comprehensible.#it's bene a year since i wrote something this long lmfao but this is just a soft appreciation of this chapter #if possible i would this for the entire manga but i Don't think i have that kind of time

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inkblot22 · 4 months

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The Same As Always

So I can already hear it. If I'm so scared of Rook, why am I always writing about him? That's because fear makes me nut, and I'm horny on side (this is not my main blog lmao) Also I'm so sorry, I cannot remember who made this divider since I downloaded it a few years ago, so if it's yours please let me know and I will credit you! This is kind of a reimagining of events based on that very loose series I have floating around on my page (He Begs Not For Petulance) so I hope it comes across as well as those.

Who is this fic for? I tried to keep it very gender-neutral, so hopefully anyone who can handle it. I apologize, since Rook does use the masculine version of most pet names in this (cheri instead of cherie, etc) but it's less feminizing than him referring to the reader as "ma biche" or "ma coccinelle", so that's just how that goes. It is a shame, but I also stayed away from "mon nounours" because that is also a bit too gendered. Very cute, though.

Anyways, this fic is DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. It's not as dark as my usual stuff, but that's not saying much. TW for noncon (touching and sa), knifeplay, blood, head injuries (accidental), captivity, and yandere. Also rusty, probably incorrect French and Rook Hunt, of course. I don't add translations because I feel like if the reader doesn't know all or any of what he's saying, it adds to the creep factor.

You don’t like it here. You think you don’t, at least. It’s hard to explain.

It’s winter, it has been for far too long. Maybe you’ve been here for a bit too long as well. It’s hard to keep track of time, since the sun seems to never rise wherever you are.

You can’t exactly remember how you got here. You remember the wagon. You’d needed quick travel through the mountains, but you also can’t remember where you were traveling. You remember everything going dark, waking up to see a blood-stained stone before you, feeling the warmth on your forehead and wondering where the wagon had gone. Your first thought was that you were now in a survival situation as it began to snow around you, the snowflakes dancing in the wind that found its way inside your loose clothing. You stood there for a moment, maybe, and then you started walking, and from there it all goes black.

You can definitely remember the first time you saw him. You were lying in an unfamiliar bed, something snug around your forehead. A candle cast a warm, quiet light into the room, and it burned through your eyelids, your vision a murky orange-pink until you opened your eyes and came face to face with… him.

Flaxen hair, a soft smile as he reached forward to caress your cheek, and most of all, those intense jade eyes. You jumped and immediately felt woozy, but you were confused enough to pay that little mind.

The man shushed you, gently pulling you back into a relaxed position and cooing at you as though you were a small child, “Ah-ah, fear not, mon cheri, you are no longer in death’s grasp. Do you remember your name or how you’ve gotten here?”

You couldn’t answer him at first. His eyes narrowed, the rest of his face still a pleasant mask, and he eased you onto your back, your head against the pillow.

“Fret not, mon petit. How about I tell you my name, and then you can decide if you’d like to tell me yours?” His voice was quiet when he spoke to you, and you noticed that there was a large knife sheath snug on his thigh.

You were still bewildered. You couldn’t connect any of the dots that had led you to this moment, and it was making your heart beat a bit too fast for your liking. The stranger smiled wider and squeezed your trembling hand.

“Je m’appelle Rook Hunt, le chasseur d’amour. I found you wandering aimlessly in this forest, the life pouring from your head like a faucet. You passed out in my arms, and brought you here.”

You didn’t remember wandering around. You could remember getting up, but you didn’t remember wandering around. Your hand comes up to your forehead, the soft bandages rubbing against your fingertips. When you looked back at Rook, you tried to figure out what you should say. Your tongue felt thick in your mouth.

“I… I’m kinda thirsty.”

Rook smiled ever wider and stood, and you got the chance to look around a bit more. You seemed to be in a small log cabin, the bed in a sort of nook, away from the rest of the cabin. You could see Rook from where you were, his back facing you as he poured you a cup of water. The kitchen area was open, but small, a table with three chairs right next to it, and you could sort of see a pretty ornate looking rug, but as you were looking at it, Rook returned and helped you into a seated position.

He held the cup for you as you drank. When you finished, he placed the cup on the table and stroked your cheek, still smiling. His actions towards you were awfully familiar, as though you were old friends or something.

“Where am I?”

“A little cabin in the woods.” Rook didn’t remove his hand from your cheek. His gloved thumb was so gentle against your cheek. “Why don’t you get some rest? You lost quite a bit of blood, cheri.”

You did feel tired… and even though you were confused, it was almost as though a spell was cast on you, lulling you back to sleep.

You’re almost certain you don’t like it here. Although he never said anything to you about it, it became somewhat clear that you couldn’t leave once you felt well enough to move around again. At least you were moving, though.

It was also at this point that Rook began leaving the cabin often. It left you bored, not that his form of entertainment was a good one, and you started cooking to alleviate that boredom. You couldn’t really recall if you were good at it before, but you were decent enough to make basic stuff, so you did. For some reason, Rook had an icebox, not a refrigerator. You didn’t know what it was at first, and you felt like it was rude to open random cabinets in a strange man’s cabin, so you left it alone until he informed you that there were usually fresh vegetables inside.

You’d sit next to the potbelly stove and sip tea as you stared out the window at the snow. This winter was going on for far too long, and it always seemed to be dark here, but you didn’t know where “here” was.

Rook would stomp back in, snow caked along the feather in his hat and melting off the brim, and he’d cast you a smile before swishing into the basement. When he’d return, he’d guide you back to the bed and sit at the table himself, writing furiously… until recently.

Last night, he’d led you back to the bed after checking your wound and changing the bandage, but instead of taking a seat at the table and writing, he slipped into the bed beside you. You didn’t know it at the time, but this would be the precedent for the rest of your life.

“What are you doing-”

“Shh, shh. Relax, cheri. I will recite a poem for you.” He curled his arms around you, holding your aching head to his chest as he whispered.

“What?” You were fatigued, still recovering from your injury, but you struggled to break out of his hold anyway.

He shushed you again, his deceptively slim arms keeping you immobile, and then he began to speak, quiet and steady, “My darling is silent. Quiet as the night.”

“R-Rook…”

He continued speaking as though you hadn’t said anything at all, “Mon orilles sont pauvres faute de sa douce voix.

As I look at that sweet face,

Beautiful as a flower, as the moon, as the blood in our veins,

Je me sens seule dans ma peau.”

You… are not amazing at French. A small English to French dictionary was left on the table whenever Rook left, but reading made your head swim, pangs of pain so bad that you had to rest immediately. But, from what little you understood, the man who had saved you from a cold death outside seemed to have something worse planned for you, if you were in fact this “darling” he spoke of.

You definitely do not like it here. You’d made the mistake of pushing Rook’s increasing affections away every chance you got, resulting in him reading your reluctance to be around him as hostility. You’d gone to cut some vegetables and found that all the knives were replaced with children’s safety cutlery. While you could very well still cause damage with them, you couldn’t do anything life-threatening without a lot of effort and no fighting back. The serrated plastic edges were only good for cutting through the flesh of fruits and tender meats, and the rounded tips meant you couldn’t really pierce anything.You couldn’t even skin a fish that Rook came back with, he did it with his hunting knife after watching you struggle for an irritatingly long time.

And then there’s the cellar. You had taken a nap after trying to read and woken up, the sky dark as usual and a terrifying grinding, clunking noise coming up from the basement. You felt like you needed to hide, so you did. You crawled under the bed and waited, the basement door flying open and a few more candles getting lit echoing as the grinding noise- the sound of something big and heavy being dragged- moved further back towards the area of the cabin that you didn’t go in usually. There wasn’t much over there except for a wardrobe, and you didn’t like opening cabinets here. It stopped being about politeness a while ago, and had turned into the fear of finding something you didn’t like.

When you heard the front door open and close, felt the frigid rush of air that entered the cabin, you felt like you were frozen as well. You couldn’t move as you heard the sound of water being poured, and you worried for a while that you would start to feel the wooden floor beneath you grow cold and wet. Instead of wet floors, however, you saw Rook’s feet- you could only tell because of the freckle that peeps over his sock on his left leg and the fine blond hairs prickling from his skin- in your narrow window of vision from where you were cowering.

“Cheri… come out from under there.”

You did, but you did so slowly. As soon as you were no longer under the bed, Rook pulled you to your feet and looked at your face. He’d never made such a serious expression before, not that you’d seen, and it made you feel a bit panicked.

“R-Rook, what was all that noise?”

His face smoothed and he let go of you, then he waved towards the dark corner of the cabin.

“I’ve run a bath. The water is warm, lapin, so you’d best get in before it cools.”

You did feel grimy, and since you were okay with standing and walking around for longer periods of time now, as compared to the first few weeks you were here, you jumped at the prospect of getting clean. You quickly undressed, knowing it was dark enough that Rook probably couldn’t see you, and climbed into the warm water. You couldn’t see if there was any soap, but as you were squinting into the darkness, kneeling in the tub as you leaned forward over the side, you felt something brush against your back. When you turned around, you shrieked like an owl and had a very intense internal dilemma.

Rook was seated in the tub behind you, or in front of you now, since you were facing him. He produced a bar of soap and began washing himself, dipping his head under the water so he could wash his hair as well. You couldn’t help but blankly stare at him, eyes wide as he acted so casual. This had been a problem for a while, actually, but never so severe as this. Rook was overly familiar with you, he touched you as though you had been married or were close friends, and apparently now he thought it was fine for you to share a bath. His eyes met yours in the dark corner, and he possibly smirked. You couldn’t quite see, but you could hear it in his voice.

“Ah, mon cher, did you need the soap? But you can’t see very well, can you? Come and let me wash your supple skin.”

A moment before he said that, you were debating if you should get out of the tub or something. You couldn’t tell if it’d be better to be ogled as you dressed or if staying under the water would give you a bit more modesty. After he said that, his arms reaching for you, you began to stand up. Although it was dark, you still saw his eyes flash, saw a slight movement in his wrist, and you were brought to your knees. It felt as though vines were wrapped around you, and you tilted forwards into your captor’s chest as your balance failed you in the dark water of the tub.

This man was a mage. You didn’t think you’d ever met one before, but you couldn’t remember. You wailed and begged for him to let you go as he began to gently wash you, but he simply shushed you and pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

You absolutely hate it here. As you chopped carrots for the stew you had decided to make, you wondered where you were from or where you were going, and hoped someone knew you had never shown up and was looking for you. You didn’t think that was the case, however.

“That does smell divine, trickster.” Rook said, walking up the stairs from the basement, “Et vous êtes terriblement mignonne, portant ce petit tablier adorable et préparant le dîner…”

“I can’t cut the meat well with this. Can I have an actual knife, please?”

Rook didn’t answer, leaning against the wall and watching as you chopped the carrots with some difficulty. He looked pleased, though whether it was with you or the situation remained to be known. When he finally pushed off of the wall, he wrapped one arm around your front, burying his face in your hair as his other hand slid down your thigh.

“Get off of me!” You tried to slash his arm with the knife, but it barely even scratched his skin, and the hand that was resting on your waist came up to crush your dominant hand so you’d drop the knife.

Panic spiked through your veins as he slipped his hand up your leg so he could slide it in the waistband of the pants you were wearing. His hand that was crushing yours lowered to hold your wrist against the counter.

You’d never tried this before, but when his lips pressed against your neck, you felt your breath hitch and you let out a desperate cry for help.

Rook laughed in response and nipped your neck, his teeth pinching your skin between them. His hand in your waistband smoothed down your pelvis to gently massage your sex, and you screamed again, thrashing and flailing so he would let you go.

Despite him never quite showing this side of him to you before, Rook was something of a strategist. As far as you could tell, it hadn’t been that long since you’d gotten here, if your head injury was anything to measure time by.

“Relax, ma crevette. You are still recovering, no? Allow this lowly hunter to take care of your body.”

Your head hurt and you felt dizzy as he stoked your arousal. A disconnect between your mind and body grew into a chasm and you began to bawl as a pressure built up in your core. Your head was spinning, it felt as though your brain was throbbing, and you shuddered and wept as Rook peppered kisses on your cheek. He had you pressed solidly against the counter, his body keeping you more or less still. His breath was hot on your skin, and you felt like you were in hell.

“Come, trickster. The soup can wait. Je dois t'avoir.”

“No!”

Rook paid you little heed as he dragged you backwards towards the bed, and while you were expecting him to just throw you onto it before he assaulted you, he gently swept you off of your feet and laid you down. That was where his mercy ended, however, if it could even be called mercy here. That knife that was pressed to his thigh, still warm from his skin and him doing whatever he did in the basement, was quickly unsheathed and trailed lightly up your sternum.

“Not struggling any longer, mon petit lapin? I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses.” His blade slid back down and he used a finger to help hook it under the hem of your shirt, cutting through the fabric as though it was nothing, “And I am sure you must be confused, but a little… exercise is good for your condition.”

You wanted to vomit, but Rook’s gloved hand cupped your chin. His knife felt cold against your now bare skin, and your breath hitched as you sucked in and held it, your eyes looking down at where Rook had his knife.

One of his leather-covered fingers tapped your cheek, and you looked back up at him. He smiled sweetly and sat up a bit, his blade still pressed flat against your stomach, right over your navel. He caught the fingertip of his glove in his teeth and yanked that glove off, tossing it to the side and passing the knife to his now bare hand. As he leaned forward to hover over you once more, his knife pressed under your chin and his gloved hand slipped into your pants, shifting lower than your crotch to prod at your poor ass. You closed your legs tighter in panic, and Rook tutted at you as though you were an unruly child.

“Come now, cheri, you should relax.” He whispered, leaning closer to press a kiss against your forehead, where you’d hit your head and how you’d gotten into this whole mess. “Plus vous êtes tendu, plus la douleur est forte…”

“D-don’t do this, don’t-” Your voice sounded so shaky, and you realized that you were trembling. Every time you made the slightest movement, you could feel the sharp edge of Rook’s hunting knife against your chin.

“Open your legs, Trickster. I’m not touching you for my benefit… although your faces of bewilderment and pleasure are quite sweet.” His finger circled the tight ring of muscle around your anus and you slowly relaxed.

“Wh-why are you d-doing…?”

Rook smiled sweetly and removed his finger from your anus slowly, instead dragging your pants down your legs and relaxing his hand with the knife against your neck. When your lower half was mostly bare above the knee, he pressed two fingers into your ass and slowly massaged you from the inside, tilting his head as his face fell.

“After I graduated from NRC, I did not think I’d see your darling little form again. It was a welcome surprise… but I don’t suppose you know what I’m talking about.” He mused, reaching over your head to grab something. He opened the little bottle with one hand, the slippery liquid cold on your asshole as he resumed his gentle fingering, “You don’t remember me in the least. Do you?”

You felt so woozy and scared, but it explained so much if he knew you… but that didn’t matter. He was still a stranger to you, and one who was currently preparing to do more terrible things to you.

“Heh… I did think so.” Rook quickly unbuckled his pants and tugged them down just enough to free himself. He pulled back away from you to seat your thighs on his own, his cock slowly inching into your poor hole. His knife slid away from your neck but remained in his grip as he slowly slid his hips forward, his opposite hand holding your ass.

Your vision was white for a moment, and when it returned it was blurry. Were you crying? You could hear loud, shuddery breathing, and it took a moment for you to figure out that it was coming from you. Rook sighed peacefully, as though this was a walk in the park for him.

“Aw… I do not enjoy harming you, trickster.” Rook murmured, his hips slowly beginning their undulating motion. He shushed your pained sounds, “This is my love for you. You’ve only grown more beautiful these past few years.”

You winced and pushed against him, your feet shifting so you could try to kick him away, and his knife came back to rest against your collarbones. His hips rocked a little faster, every pump leaving a burning stretch that only felt like it doubled over onto itself.

“Did you know? How I felt for you, how I longed for your touch all those years ago? These three on my own… they have been l'écrasement de l'âme. I’ve had far too much time to- Putain, tu n'es pas du tout détendu…” Rook wheezed and grunted, dark and low.

You felt a pit in your lower belly, and you grabbed the wrist that had the knife, your watering eyes wide as you looked up at this man who apparently knew you.

“Please, petit, you have to… fuck- you must unclench, or this will not last much longer.”

His demand was probably one of the most ridiculous things you’d heard. You couldn’t relax. He had a knife to your throat, he was rearranging your guts, and he had chosen just now to inform you that he was aware of at least a portion of your past. You made this strange whining shriek noise, and Rook’s hand holding the knife slipped ever so slightly.

It was unclear as to whether or not he did that on purpose, especially since he removed the blade from your skin and lasciviously lapped at the small cut on your collarbone, his lips trailing up to your ear.

“Préparez-vous, car je vais déposer mon amour dans votre estomac en attente.”

The sentence itself was honestly quite jarring, but Rook groaned loudly into your ear and nearly folded you in half as he came inside of your ass. It felt hot and sickly, and the musky smell of Rook’s skin and sex permeated the room. Your head panged, woozy throbs that made your stomach churn. Rook dragged his body up and gently teased your sex with his gloved fingertips, his murky green eyes glued to yours.

“Wh-”

“Did you truly think I would not give you the same bliss you have given me?” He mumbled, “You really don’t remember me, then.”

As he pulled out of you and stroked you to your own orgasm, he smiled sadly.

"Don't worry, trickster. You will remember in time."

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hayleythecannibal · 10 months

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Twisted Minds: Chapter Three Potage TW: Crime scenes, Yelling, Blood, Gore, PTSD Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 @HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist. Taglist: @punkin-time

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - PATIO - EARLY MORNING -

WILL GRAHAM steps out onto his porch in boxers and a t-shirt, hair tussled from recently getting out of bed. He's followed by his PACK OF DOGS. The pooches bound down the stairs toward the driveway and Will suddenly realizes he's not alone. Dr. Y/N L/N stepping out of her car to greet the dogs as they return the favor. She smiles at Will. "Morning." I say smiling happily at Will "I didn't hear you drive up." Will says looking me up and down and then at my car "Hybrid. Good car for stalking." I say smirking, bending down to pet his dogs, "I'm compelled to go cover myself." Will says with a slight blush on his face, i chuckle "I have brothers." i say laughing with a smile "I'll put on a robe just the same. Do you want a cup of coffee? And more immediately why are you here?" Will says walking towards his front door, I follow "Yes. And Abigail Hobbs woke up." i say smiling , Will stops in his tracks. "You know how to bury the lead." he says turning towards me. "Want me to get you a cup of coffee?" I smirk walking towards him, "No, I want to get my coat." He says turning towards his door "Let's have a cup of coffee." i chuckle.

Will and Y/N sit in his kitchen sipping coffee as Will's PHONE RINGS and RINGS and RINGS and RINGS and finally stops. "Is he going to keep calling?" Will says rolling his eyes, "Jack wants us to go see her." I say grabbing his hand in a comforting way "And you don't." He says, i shake my head "Eventually." i say, Will smiles at her bulldoggishness in his defense."I don't want to get in the middle of you and Jack, but if I can be helpful to you as a buffer..." I say kindly and gazing fondly at Will, "I like you as a buffer. I also like the way you rattle Jack. He respects you too much to yell at you no matter how much he wants to." Will chuckles, I laugh with him. "And I take advantage of that." I smirk, Will turns the subject back to what he's most concerned with. "Abigail Hobbs doesn't have anyone." Will says taking a sip of his coffee,"We can't be her everyone. No matter how much we want to. When i said what I was going to say in my head, it sounded insulting." I say leaning forward towards the Visibly Anxious man. He leans forward too, "Say it the insulting way." He says looking me in my eyes, "Dogs keep a promise a person can't." I say lowering my head , "I'm not collecting another stray." Will says seriously i nod my head, "The first person Abigail talks to about what happened can't be anyone who was there when it happened. That means no Dr. Lecter, or Me either." I say sadly because even though I would love to see Abigail right now, its not safe for her mental health yet."Much less the guy who killed Dad. Jacks wrong about Abigail." Will says grabbing my hand and squeezing, " I know he is But Let Alana reach out to her, her own way." I say squeezing his hand back and looking in his eyes with what seems to be adoration? No Y/N! You cant do this again! Remember what happened last time!

PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - ABIGAIL HOBBS' ROOM - DAY -

ALANA BLOOM waddles down the corridor, struggling to hold onto the SEVERAL SHOPPING BAGS she's carrying. Alana ENTERS as quietly as possible, given the circumstances, to find ABIGAIL HOBBS sitting up in bed, reading a book, exhausted, vacant, looking like she just woke up from a coma. "Hi. I'm Alana Bloom." Alana says as she unloads the shopping bags on the couch. "Are you a doctor?" Abigail asks looking over at Alana in curiosity "Not medicine. I'm a psychiatrist." Alana says as she grabs a chair to place at Abigail's bedside and sit. "What do you specialize in?" Abigail asks while flipping a page in her book, "Among other things, family trauma." Alana says as she sits down, she feels sympathy for the girl. "I asked the nurses if my parents were dead and they wouldn't tell me. Said I had to wait for you." Abigail says as she looks Alana in the eyes, Alana sits on the edge of Abigail's bed. "I'm sorry you had to wait." Alana says sincerely, and with kindness in her eyes and tone. "I know they're dead." Abigail says with emotion in her eyes, Alana studies her and the strange admission. Abigail's chin crumples with emotion but she fights it.

"Who buried them?" Abigail asks looking back down at her book, "They haven't been buried." Alana says causing Abigail to look up abruptly "Don't you think they should be?" Abigail questions, "Your mother was cremated per the instructions in her living will. Your father is more complicated." Alana says quietly not wanting to lie to the poor girl, "Because he was crazy" Abigail says softly, "Nurses said you didn't remember." Alana points out "I remember. I just didn't want to talk about it with them. Is this your book?" Abigail asks holding up the book, Alana shakes her head. "Y/N was reading it to you. She's also a psychiatrist but she also works for the F.B.I" Alana says, "I started turning pages. Felt like I read it before. I remember Her voice and dreaming about peacocks. Aren't they really stupid birds?" Abigail asks tilting her head, "Yes." Alana laughs, "I want to sell the house. I guess it's mine now. I can use the money for college, get an apartment." says Abigail as Alana studies Abigail and her surprising practicality. "What're all those?" Abigail asks refering to the shopping bags "Me and Y/N went shopping. Brought you some clothes. Thought a change would feel good. we guessed your size. Anything you don't want keep the tags on. I'll return it. And I brought you some music, too." Alana says while smiling fondly at the girl.

"Your music?" Abigail asks furrowing her brows, "If there isn't anything you like, I got a stack of iTunes gift cards. I've got a stack of gift cards. I don't do well redeeming gift cards." Alana says looking down smiling, "Probably says something about you." Abigail smirks, "Probably does." Alana smiles studying the girl.

B.A.U. - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY -

Alana Bloom, Hannibal, and Y/N sit across from Jack Crawford. "I have 7 families waiting, let me rephrase, demanding that we find whatever's left of their daughters. Abigail Hobbs is the only person I can ask who might know the truth." Jack says looking at all three of us. I shake my head "You can't ask her right now Jack. We have to create a safe place for her first or you won't get any answers." I say raising my eyebrows, "I respect your sympathy for her, Doctor L/N. One day I hope you'll appreciate my lack of it." Jack says slightly glaring, "You really think Abigail helped her father kill those girls?" Alana says almost sadly, "It is one possibility that needs to be ruled out. If she didn't help her father, she may know who did." Jack says poking his desk with every word, "How was Abigail? When you saw her?" Hannibal asks speaking up, i nod agreeing "Surprisingly practical." Alana points out tilting her head "Suspiciously practical?" Jack asks taking a gulp of his coffee. "I would suggest she can be practical without being a murderer." I say rolling my eyes at Jacks suggestion. "I think she's hiding something." Alana says, "It may simply be her trauma." Hannibal suggests looking over at Alana, "Yes. Could also be more. She has a penchant for manipulation, withheld information to gain information. She demonstrated only enough emotions to prove she had them." Alana relays what she observed to us "

"Appreciating my lack of sympathy?" Jack says looking over at me, "You said it may be more than trauma yet you question her involvement in the murders her father committed." Hannibal says Looking over at Alana once again, "What I'm questioning is her state of mind." Alana says looking at Jack. "I want You and Will Graham to talk to her." Jack says looking at me I shake my head but before i can say the words Alana beats me to it "Jack. Not yet." She says and I agree, "Doctor Bloom, you're not Will's and Y/N's psychiatrist. Doctor Lecter is." Jack says Glaring at Alana, but hey what is that supposed to mean. "

F.B.I. ACADEMY - LECTURE HALL - DAY

"Garret Jacob Hobbs or the 'Minnesota Shrike' abducted and murdered eight girls over an eight month period. They each had the same hair color. Same eye color." Will Graham says as he stands in front of his classroom. "Same age, same height, same weight as his daughter Abigail. But there was a ninth victim who fit Abigail Hobbs' profile but Garret Jacob Hobbs didn't murder her." Will continues CLICK. A PICTURE OF CASSIE BOYLE, impaled on the antlers of a severed stag head, her death a grotesque work of art. "The killer who did wanted us to know he wasn't the 'Minnesota Shrike'. He was better than that. He is an intelligent psychopath. He is a sadist. He will never kill like this again. So how do we catch him?" Jack Crawford, Hannibal, and Y/N enter, the reflective light of the projection screen bounces off their faces. In hushed tones:"Giving a lecture on Hobbs' Copy Cat?"Hannibal asks watching Will closely as he lectures "We need every good mind on this we can get." Jack responds quietly as Me and Hannibal observe Will."This Copy Cat is an avid reader of Freddie Lounds and TattleCrime.com. He had intimate knowledge of Garret Jacob Hobbs' murders. Motives, patterns. Enough to recreate them and arguably elevate them. To art."

CLICK. A PICTURE OF ABIGAIL and GARRET JACOB HOBBS in happier times on a hunting expedition."How intimately did he know Garret Jacob Hobbs? Did he appreciate him from afar, or did he engage him? Did he ingratiate himself into Hobbs' life? Did Hobbs know his Copy Cat as he knew him?" CLICK. A PICTURE OF LOUISE HOBBS, her throat sliced open, lying in a dark pool of her own blood."Before Garret Jacob Hobbs murdered his wife and attempted to do the same to his daughter, he received an untraceable call, re-routed through a swatting service." CLICK. A PICTURE OF GARRET JACOB HOBBS, bloodied and filled with bullets, slumped dead in the corner of his kitchen."I believe the as-yet unidentified caller was our Copy Cat Killer." Will says as he spots us.

PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - ABIGAIL HOBBS' ROOM - DAY -

Abigail sits upright in bed, senses on alert. "So you're not a doctor or a nurse or a psychiatrist?" Abigail asks confused as to why this woman was here. Freddie Lounds standing across from her."I'm a journalist. I want to tell the truth. Your truth. Sometimes that involves some deception. But know this, I will never lie to you." Freddie says half lying half telling the truth, "sounds like what a liar would say." Abigail retorts cleverly. "You have every right not to trust me, but in time, Abigail, I hope you let me prove that you can. If you tell me what you know, I can help you fill in the blanks." Freddie says almost sincerely, "How about you tell me what you know." Abigail says as she eyes the woman mistrustfully, "Your dad was the Minnesota Shrike. Your mother wasn't the first person your father killed. He killed 8 girls. 8 girls that look --" Freddie says as she sighs "Just like me." Abigail cuts her off, "Yes." Freddie says quietly, Abigail reels from the larger meaning of that. "Why did they call him the Shrike?" Abigail asks looking at Freddie breathing a little heavier than before and with almost tears in her eyes. "It's a bird that impales its prey, harvests its organs to eat later." Freddie explains softly "He was very sick." Freddie continues off of Abigails silence, "Does that mean I'm sick, too?" Abigail asks tears brimming her eyes, "You'll be fighting that perception. Perception is the most important thing in your life right now." Freddie says as she sits down on Abigail's bed, "I don't care what anyone thinks." Abigail says shaking her head.

"You better start caring, Abigail. What you remember, what you tell everyone, is going to define the rest of your life. Let me help you." Freddie says seriously and leaning forward towards Abigail. Abigail takes a Deep breath"How did they catch him?" Abigail asks shakily "A man named Will Graham and A doctor by the name Y/N L/N. They work for the FBI. They catch insane men because they can think like them. Because They are insane." Freddie says as

Will Graham, Hannibal and Y/N enter the room and hear the last sentence she says."Would you excuse us please?" Will says glaring, and i can't help but glare at her too, How dare she say we are insane?!?!, "I'm Special Agent Will Graham. And this is Special Agent Dr. Y/N L/N." Will introduces us to Abigail, I look at her smiling kindly. As Freddie is escorted to the door:"By Special Agent, he means not really an Agent. He didn't get past the screening process. Too unstable." Freddie shoots towards Will, I frown at her comment, "I really must insist you leave the room." Hannibal says taking A step towards Freddie, Before leaving, Freddie offers Abigail a business card. "If you want to talk --" I snatch the card without saying a word. Freddie doesn't offer any more resistance as the Orderlies escort her out. "Abigail, this is Doctor Lecter... Do you remember us?" I ask softly and kindly. "I remember you. You killed my dad." Abigail says looking at Will, That hangs there a moment, a weighted memory, then: "You've been in a bed for 3 weeks, Abigail. Why don't we have a walk?" Hannibal offers trying to ease the tension in the room.

PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - GARDENS - DAY -

Abigail walks weak-legged, supported by Hannibal and Will. "I'm sorry we couldn't save your mother. We did everything we could, but she was already gone." I say sincerely truly wishing i could've saved Abigail's Mom, Tears sting Abigail's eyes, threatening to spill, but don't. "I know. I saw him kill her." Abigail admits, "Didn't seem real. He was loving right up until the second he wasn't. He kept telling me he was sorry and to just hold still. He was going to make it all go away."Abigail says looking at me and Hannibal as Will helps her sit on a bench. "There was plenty wrong with your father, Abigail, but there's nothing wrong with you. You said he was loving. I believe it. That's what you brought out in him." Will says looking at the girl with nothing but care. "it's not all I brought out in him. I'm going to be messed up, aren't I? I'm worried about nightmares." Abigail says as a stray hair falls in her face "We'll help you with the nightmares." Hannibal says nicely as i smile sweetly at her "There's no such thing as getting used to what you experienced. It bothers me a lot. I can only imagine how it bothers you when I see it over and over in my mind. I worry about nightmares, too." I say softly sitting down beside her and brush a stray hair out of her face like a mother would. "Do you have nightmares about killing my dad?" Abigail asks Will softly, Will nods "Sometimes it's hard for me to dream about much else." Will admits as he sits down next to me and Abigail, I grab his hand and squeeze as a source of comfort.

"So, Killing somebody, even if you have to do it, it feels that bad?" Abigail asks Will, He looks down "Ugliest thing in the world." Will says as Hannibal and I eye Will, knowing he's not telling the whole truth. Abigail takes Will's words in for a brief moment, then: "I want to go home." Abigail says her voice slightly cracking

PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITAL - PARKING LOT - DAY -

Freddie Lounds leans on the hood of Hannibal's midnight blue Bentley, waiting. She spots Hannibal, Will, and Caroline as they approach and quickly stands, almost respectfully. "Special Agent Graham And L/N, I never formally introduced myself. I'm Freddie Lounds." Freddie says as she out reaches her hand for us to shake. "Trying to salvage this joke from the mouth of madness?" I say venom lacing my voice as i glare at the red-headed woman "Please. Let me apologize for my behavior in there. It was sloppy and misguided. And hurtful." She says trying to sound sincere but we all know she isnt. "Miss Lounds, now is not the time."Hannibal says trying to diffuse the situation. "Look, you and I may have our own reasons for being here, but I also think we both genuinely care what happens to Abigail Hobbs." Freddie says a little bit apologetic but not enough for me to care. "You told her we were insane." I glare

"I can un-do that." Freddie says, Will shakes his head "You help Abigail see me as more than her father's killer and I help you with online ad sales?"Will says Glaring at her"I can un-do what I said. But I can also make it a lot worse." Freddie says in a almost threatening tone "Miss Lounds, it's not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living.", Will threatens back, i look at him with Wide eyes and Hannibal sighs at Will's unfortunate choice of words.

B.A.U. - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - NEXT DAY -

Jack sits behind his desk reading off his computer screen:""It's not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living". Know what else isn't very smart?" He addresses silent Will sitting across from him. Hannibal, Alana, and L/N sit on either side of Will , mutually concerned. "You Two were there with him and you let those words come out of his mouth." He says angrily towards Me and Hannibal. "I trust Will to speak for himself." Hanibal replies calmly, "Evidently, you shouldn't." Jack says with venom, and i duck my head as a trauma response, Hannibal notices. "I'm just happy the story wasn't about Abigail Hobbs." Alana Says with relief. "Well Then it's a victory. So Abigail Hobbs wants to go home. Let's take Abigail Hobbs home." Jack suggests, My head shoots up shaking vigourously "What Abigail wants and what she needs are two different things. Taking her out of a controlled environment would be reckless." I say almost yelling "Alana said she was practical." Jack replies Looking at me with a hard glare, "That could just mean she has a dissociative disorder." Will suggests putting in his thoughts "You take her home, she may experience intense emotions, respond aggressively. Or reenact some aspect of the traumatic event without even realizing it." Alana says agreeing with me on this. "Doctor Lecter?" Jack asks looking at Hannibal, "Doctor Bloom and Doctor L/N are right, but there is a scenario where revisiting the trauma event could help Abigail heal and actually prevent denial." Hannibal says making my head lower once again. "We have a difference of opinion, therefore I'm choosing the opinion that best serves my agenda.I need to know if Will's right about our Copy Cat."Jack says disregarding what me and Alana are saying. "We have no way of knowing what's waiting for her when she goes home." I say as i look back up my gaze hardening

HOBBS RESIDENCE - NEXT DAY -

As Will, Hannibal, Y/N, and Alana look on, Abigail stares at the faded rust-colored stain on the front step, where her mother died, her eyes brimming with tears but not overflowing. "I was sort of expecting a body outline in chalk or tape." Abigail says still staring at the concrete "They only do that if you're still alive and taken to the hospital before they finish the crime scene." Will explains, Those words wash over Abigail, she's barely aware of them.

"Goodbye, mom." Abigail Whispers I look at her sadly.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - FOYER - DAY -

The DOOR OPENS in the darkened space. Alana, Abigail, and Y/N enter, Hannibal and Will float closely behind. Abigail lingers in the doorway. The room is more or less scrubbed, thoroughly gone over by cleaners. "If you ever want to go, you just have to say so and we will go." I reassure her, "Go where? Back to the hospital?" Abigail says as she looks back at us "For now." Alana responds, Alana and Hannibal hang back and allow Will and Y/N to follow Abigail into the kitchen. She notices all the family pictures on the refrigerator have been turned around. "They turned all the pictures over." Abigail says sadly, "Crime scene cleaners will do that." Alana says as She glances at the clean table and the linoleum floor. "They did a really good job. Is that where all my blood was?" Abigail asks and me and Wills heads turn to her, "Yes." i say haunted by the memory, Abigail wraps her head around that. You do this all the time? Go places and think about killing?" Abigail asks both me and Will, I nod "Too often." Will answers and i nod agreeing, "So you pretended to be my dad?" Abigail asks us, I look over at Will then back at her "And people like your dad." I say softly, "What did that feel like? To be him?" Abigail asks curiously, I look down wanting Will to answer this, and he does. "If feels like I'm talking to his shadow suspended on dust." Will says and i can't help but think he couldn't've described it better. Alana studies Will and Y/N, realizing how difficult this is for them. "No wonder you have nightmares." Abigail says looking at Us with wide eyes.

"The attacks on you and your mother, they were different. Desperate. Your dad knew he was out of time. Someone told him we were coming."I tell her, Will nodding in agreement "The man on the phone?"Abigail asks i nod "It was a blocked call. Did you recognize his voice?" Will asks her gently, "I had never heard it before." Abigail responds giving A small, almost imperceptible glance at Hannibal. "Was there anybody new in your father's life. Someone you met or someone he talked about." Alana asks Abigail, and Abigail shakes her head 'no'. "He may have been contacted by another serial killer, a copy cat." I say in a gentle yet serious tone. "Someone who's still out there?" Abigail asks slightly scared, I look at her with sympathy "Yes." Will responds with a sad ish tone and Abigail realizes her nightmare isn't over...

"Can you catch somebody's crazy?" Abigail asks as we go through the boxes in her living room. "Folie a deux." Alana Responds i nod, Abigail looks at us confused. "What?" Abigail asks confused, "It's A French psychiatric term. "Madness shared by two."" I continue for Alana "One can not be delusional if the belief in question is accepted as ordinary by others in that person's culture or subculture. Or family." Hannibal says coming into the room and setting down another box."My dad didn't seem delusional. He was a perfectionist" Abigail says looking at a family photo, "Your dad left almost no evidence." Will says sitting next to me and Abigail, "Is that why you let me come home? To find evidence?" Abigail asks in a panicky tone, "It was one of many considerations." Hannibal says honestly, "Are we going to re-enact the crime? You be my dad. You be my mom. And you be the man on the phone." Abigail says pointing to me and Will as her parents and Hannibal as the man on the phone. Uncharacteristically, Hannibal is caught off guard by that. More so by Abigail's steely nonchalant stare that followed. "We wanted you to come home to help you leave home behind." Alana says as i rub the girls back comfortingly. "You're not going to find any of those girls, you know." Abigail says with a numb look on her face

"Why do you say that?" Will asks as i pick apart everything about her with my mind, her behavior, her thinking, even her emotions. "He'd honor every part of them. Made plumbers putty out of elk bones. Whatever bones were left of those girls is probably holding pipes together." Abigail responds numbly, i tilt my head, she's disassociating. "Where did he make this putty?" Hannibal asks looking at us "At the cabin. I can show you tomorrow." Abigail says to us "Abigail... there's someone here." I say looking towards the archway, Abigail finds Marissa standing behind her. "Hey, Abigail." the girl smiles sympathetically.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - BACKYARD - STREAM - DAY -

Marissa throws another rock, striking Nick across his forehead, leaving a small gash. He stumbles, briefly silenced. When he looks up, clutching his bloody head wound, his looks right at Marissa, murder in his eyes......then he reacts and quickly turns and RUNS. Marissa and Abigail turn to see Will, Hannibal, and Y/N approaching from around the house. Alana and Marissa's Mother follow immediately behind. Abigail turns, but Nick is already gone. "He said he was Somebody's brother." Abigail says out of breath and a fearful look on her face. "Marissa. Come home." Marissa's mother says angrily as Hannibal studies Marissa's rude behavior as she snaps at her mother: "Stop being such a bitch. See you later." Marissa says angrily.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - ACROSS THE STREAM - MOMENTS LATER -

Hannibal and Will stomp through the forest While Y/N stays behind with Abigail, returning from looking for Nick Boyle. "He's gone." Will says looking around the forest, Hannibal's eyes fall to a bloodied rock on the embankment near the stream. As he turns to meet Will, his foot inconspicuously kicks a few dead leaves to cover the stone."You've never seen him before?" Will asks eyeing Abigail in my motherly embrace. "No. Have you?" Abigail asks turning to look at Will, Will shakes his head "no.", "We should report this, yes?" Hannibal asks i nod my head "Yes." I say quietly.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - DAY - DREAMSCAPE -

Will stands outside his home, an eerie moment of silence, his CIRCULATORY SYSTEM humming in his ear, then a subtle crunching of grass indicates Will is not alone. He glances over to see...A BLACK STAG It walks quietly through the meadow toward Will, who holds his breath, taking in the surreal vision of this beast. The BLACK STAG stops and watches Will. He is now holding ABIGAIL HOBBS with a knife to her throat. "I'm sorry, Abigail. Please just hold still. Please. I'm going to make it all go away." Will stares at the BEAST, then cuts Abigail's throat. ARTERIAL SPRAY peppers the grass in large drops. A horrible TONE pierces the air as the BLACK STAG BOLTS. He startles awake in his bed at the abrasive drone of the ALARM CLOCK, drenched with sweat.

MOTEL ROOM - DAY -

Will peels off his wet t-shirt and shuffles to the curtains To let a blast of DAYLIGHT into the darkened room.

RUSTIC HUNTING CABIN - DAY -

Two local police cars lead Hannibal's expensive RENTAL CAR down the driveway as they pull in front of the cabin. Once again, all four doors open and Hannibal, Will, Alana, Y/N and Abigail step out of the car, taking in the cabin. A local detective and Two police officers remove the crime scene tape obstructing the door and allow Hannibal, Will, Alana, Y/N and Abigail to enter. They wait respectfully outside. The door opens and Abigail steps inside as Will wads up the crime scene tape in a loose ball and tosses it aside. "He cleaned everything. He said he was afraid of germs but I guess he was just afraid of getting caught." Abigail says looking around, "No one else ever came up here with your dad? Except you?" I ask gently not wanting her to emotionally or mentally exert herself. She shakes her head "He made everything by himself. glue, butter. He sold the pelts on ebay or in town. He made pillows. Carved knives out of leg bones. No parts went to waste. Otherwise it was murder. He Was feeding them to us, wasn't he?" Abigail asks in a sad tone, i look at her wanting to give her a hug. No one responds immediately, then: "It's very likely." Hannibal states looking at her in a fatherly way, Abigail crosses to the gutting/skinning table. "Before he cut my throat, he told me he killed those girls so he wouldn't have to kill me." Abigail says in a bittersweet/sad tone, "You're not responsible for anything your father did, Abigail." I say in a motherly tone, walking over to her "If he would have just killed me, none of those girls would be dead." she says with tears in her eyes, i grab her arm in a comforting way "We don't know that-" Alana is interupted when PLIP. A single drop of blood falls from the ceiling onto Abigail's cheek. She wipes it off with her fingertip and stares at it a brief moment before glancing up.

RUSTIC HUNTING CABIN - ANTLER ROOM - DAY -

Will, Hannibal and Y/N as they stare at something horrifying. Will speaks to his phone: "I need ERT at the Hobbs Cabin." Will says into his phone as i look at the scene before me A YOUNG WOMAN hangs naked, impaled on a RACK OF ANTLERS. Will and Y/N approach and Will slowly lifts the young woman's head. It's MARISSA. Abigail has climbed the stairs behind Hannibal and Alana. Her eyes go wide, realizing what has happened. Abigail's SCREAMS...

POLICE CARS and POLICE OFFICERS everywhere. Along the cabin, barely staying ahead of a POLICE OFFICER unspooling a temporary barricade of YELLOW POLICE TAPE. Abigail is being comforted by Alana along the edge of the woods as the CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATORS move in and out of the HOBBS CABIN. An F.B.I. S.U.V. barrels down the dirt road. Abigail and Alana watch as JACK CRAWFORD steps out. Will and I are staring at Marissa's naked corpse. Hannibal behind us. Will examines Marissa's swollen lip as Hannibal admires the handiwork of her killer. "Do you think she knew the guy down by the stream?" Will asks us "Somebody's brother?" Hannibal asks curiously.

"Not somebody. She said he asked her if she helped her dad take his sister's lungs while she was alive." I say in a low tone, turning to face Hannibal "The young woman on the stag head." Hannibal says tilting his head at me i nod "Cassie Boyle. She had a brother. Nicholas. But Garret Jacob Hobbs didn't kill Cassie Boyle." Will says he examines Marissa With gloved hands and plastic tools, Will respectfully levers Marissa's jaw wide. Wielding a LED FLASHLIGHT with ALTERNATIVE LIGHT SOURCE, he shines it into Marissa's mouth. "I know. Garret Jacob Hobbs would have honored every part of her." Hannibal says walking towards the body to get a better look. Jack Crawford climbs the stairs, already frustrated. "You bring Abigail Hobbs back to Minnesota to find out if she had anything to do with her father's murders and another girl dies."Jack says spooking me and making me jump at his angry tone. Will tries to ignore Jack's frustrations, pushing forward on the forensic investigation at hand: "scrapped his knuckle on her teeth. There's foreign tissue and what could be trace amounts of blood." Will says causing me and HANNIBAL to look closer at the mouth. "Do you think Abigail Hobbs knew Cassie Boyle? Or Nicholas Boyle?"Jack says walking towards us "No." Will and I both say at the same time, "You Don't think she knows them or you don't want to think she knows them?" Jack says implying something. "She said she didn't know them." Will says clearly getting agitated as well, I ball my hands into fists and Hannibal graces my arm with my hand making my arms relax slightly. "Doctor Bloom says Abigail has a penchant for manipulation. Is she manipulating you, Will, Y/N?" Jack says looking me and Will up and down, it makes my blood boil. "Agent Crawford." Hannibal says in a warning tone, "Look he says they were wrong about Hobbs' Copy Cat. I want to know what else they were wrong about." Jack says in a tone that i don't like.

"Whoever killed the girl in the field, killed this girl. We are right about that. He knew exactly how to mount the body. Wound patterns are almost identical to Cassie Boyle. The same design, same humiliation." I say looking Jack with a defiant look in my eyes, "Abigail Hobbs isn't a killer but she could be the target of one." Hannibal says looking at jack "I think it's time Abigail Hobbs left home for good. Pack up whatever she needs to pack up and get her out of Minnesota. Now." Hannibal, Will, and I turn to leave, then: "Not you, Will. You stay right here." Jack says in a serious tone, "Jack" i say frustrated and confused, he wants Will to stay but not me? "I want you to go with Dr. Lecter, Y/N." Jack says cutting me off, I turn and leave the room following Hannibal.

HOBBS NEIGHBORHOOD - NIGHT -

The REFLECTION OF POLICE LIGHTS dances across the window Abigail is looking through as Hannibal drives toward Abigail's home, Y/N in the passenger seat and Alana in the back with Abigail. POLICE OFFICERS part and remove orange cones to allow Hannibal to drive into the Hobbs driveway unobstructed, quickly reforming behind Hannibal's rental car to keep the CIRCUS OF REPORTERS and NEWS VANS and LOOKY-LOOS at bay. Abigail, Alana, Y/N and Hannibal get out of the car. Abigail glances back at the CROWD OF REPORTERS and CAMERA MEN.Abigail and her escorts walk toward the Hobbs Residence, while their eyes regard the Police Line. They finally look away just as Marissa's Mother pushes her way through the crowd. A POLICEMAN awkwardly tries to hold her back. Like a paternal shield, Hannibal eases Abigail toward Alana and Y/N and steps to intercept Marissa's Mother. He bars her path, grips her arms, his hands soft but firm.

"Why come back? Why did you come back here? Why did you come back?" The grieving mothere of Marissa sobs. Abigail can't find her words. Marissa's Mother is so wracked with grief she can barely stand. A Policeman arrives behind her as Alana moves in, easing her from Hannibal's hold. Freddie steps out of the shadows near the garage. "Abigail." Shouts Freddie, We look over at her "Miss Lounds, you're on the wrong side of the police line." Hannibal says politely "I've been covering the Minnesota Shrike long before you got involved." Freddie snarls rudely at me and Hannibal she tries to step forward towards Abigail But Hannibal and a Police Officer are already approaching. The Police Officer grabs Freddie by the elbow, ushering her away from the Hobbs House and Abigail. She calls out "I want to help you tell your story. You need me now more than ever." Freddie calls towards Abigail, "I want to talk to her." Abigail says trying to turn "No, you don't. Go inside." Alana says ushering Abigail inside, Abigail reluctantly does as instructed.

Hannibal and I join Freddie's escort across the Police Line. "I'm not the only one lurking about the Hobbs house peeking in windows. They really should monitor those police lines more carefully." Freddie warns, I stop the Officer and turn her around, "Have you seen a young man? Mid- 20s, ginger hair? Un-washed." Hannibal asks tilting his head, "I'll tell you if I saw him if you tell me why it's important." Freddie smirks, i roll my eyes.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - RECREATION ROOM - NIGHT-

Abigail sits on the couch, crying quietly, emotionally exhausted from the horrors of the day. A handmade pillow embroidered across the surface, an image of a DEER walks across a plane, trimmed in pelt. She clutches it to her stomach, needing something to hold. Then it dawns on her. Abigail's hands gnarl as she begins pulling at the fabric of the pillow, digging her fingernails into it. The pillow begins to rip at the seams and Abigail tears it open. She begins to shake before she's removes he pillow's stuffing. WADS and WADS and WADS OF HUMAN HAIR. Abigail's heartbeat POUNDS IN HER EARS, filling her head with a rhythmic, oppressive TONE. She begins to tremble. As Abigail reels from this horror, there's A BLUR OF MOTION unbeknownst to her in front of the sliding glass doors.A slight BREEZE blows through Abigail's hair and SOUND RETURNS TO NORMAL. She looks up to see the sliding glass doors are NOW OPEN. Standing in front of her: NICHOLAS BOYLE.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I got to talk to someone. I didn't kill that girl. I swear I didn't." Nicholas says clearly freaking out, Abigail instinctively goes still. Then BOLTS. Abigail attempts to run. Nick Boyle grabs her, spins her around and forces her against the wall, his hand over her mouth.

"I didn't --" Nicholas yells, Nicholas stiffens suddenly, eyes going wide as Abigail plunges a hunting knife into him at his sternum. She pulls it down, gutting him in one horrible motion. Just like her father showed her. Nick stumbles back, already glassy eyed, and the AWFUL WET SOUND that follows can only be his entrails.

HOBBS RESIDENCE - NIGHT -

Hannibal, Y/N, and Alana return from the MEDIA CIRCUS down the street, crossing the Police Line surrounding the Hobbs house. Alana, Y/N, and Hannibal enter through the front doors, moving toward the kitchen. "Abigail?" Alana calls out but before Alana and Y/N can reach the kitchen, they see a BLOODIED Abigail walking up the stairs, shell-shocked. "Abigail..." I say gently worried if she hurt herself Before Alana and Y/N can get out another word... WHAM. Hannibal palms the side of they're heads from behind, SLAMMING them into the wall in one move. Alana is instantly knocked out falling on the floor, Y/N is also instantly knocked out collapsing into Hannibal's arms as he gently lies her on the ground. Abigail is stunned by Hannibal's sudden brutality More worried about Y/N than Alana but he reassures her: "She'll be alright. Show me what happened." Hannibal reassures Abigail

HOBBS RESIDENCE - RECREATION ROOM -

Hannibal cautiously enters, Abigail behind him, to find the disemboweled corpse of Nick Boyle slumped in the room. Abigail doesn't weep, she doesn't appear victimized and broken. She simply stares, inscrutably. Hannibal squats besides her, putting a steady hand on her shoulder as if to rouse her out of a deep sleep. His voice is gentle, fatherly. "Abigail." Hannibal gently calls out, Abigail is terrified, traumatized by the blood on her hands."He was going to kill me." she whispers clearly traumatized. "Was he? This isn't self-defense, Abigail. You butchered him." Hannibal says looking over the body, "I didn't..." Abigail says shaking her head "They will see what you did and they will see you as an accessory to the crimes of your father." Hannibal tells her seriously "I wasn't." She says still shaking her head, "I can help you, if you ask me to. At great risk to my career and my life. You have a choice. You can tell them you were defending yourself when you gutted this man... or we can hide the body." Hannibal offers Abigail, but her mind is spinning...

HOBBS RESIDENCE - NIGHT -

Alana and Y/N in the back of an AMBULANCE, the side of their heads being bandaged. A worried Will sits on the bench across from Y/N ; Jack Crawford stands just outside the doors. "I don't remember anything. Maybe a blur out of the corner of my eye, then a big, fat cut to black." I say looking at Will then to Jack, "Nicholas Boyle attacked Abigail. You two. Struck Lecter across the back of head with a fireplace poker."Jack states i look up worried "Where is Abigail?" i ask in a worried motherly tone, "Lecter took her back to the hotel." Will says grabbing my hand comfortingly "She Scratched Nicholas Boyle before he ran out the back door. Blood on her hands matches the tissue we pulled from Marissa Schuur's mouth." Jack says calmly, "He got away?" Alana asks Jack looking at him confused "We'll get him one way or another." Jack says looking at us. Frustrated, Will climbs out of the back of the Ambulance. "Where are you going?" Jack asks will confused. "I'm tired, Jack. I want to go home. And I'm taking Y/N with me." Will says standing up and taking me with him..........

WILL GRAHAMS CAR - NIGHT -

I look out of the passenger seat window of Will's car, "Will where are we going?" i ask calmly and quietly looking over at him. "You have a concussion, you shouldn't be alone" Will says briefly looking over at me with what seems like care in his eyes. "you didn't answer my question" i say softly, He chuckles softly smiling "Your gonna stay at my house for tonight, is that okay?" Will asks me gently, i nod "Yea, that's okay." I say smiling.....I rest my head on the passenger side window and Fall asleep.

WILL GRAHAM'S HOUSE - NIGHT - WILL'S POV

We arrive at my house and I look over and see Y/N sleeping I gently smile at her.As I sit in the car for a moment and watch Y/N sleeping peacefully, I feel a deep sense of caring and protectiveness towards her. I feel a sense of responsibility for her, and I feel a deep desire to keep her safe and to make sure that she is okay and that she is happy. I feel my heart aching for her and longing for her presence. I reach over and unbuckle her seat belt gently and turn off my car. I open my door and close it gently as to not disturb her sleep, and I go over to the passenger side door opening it and catching her head gently. I grab her purse and coat and pick her up bridal style closing the car door with my foot. As I carry Y/N to the front door of my house, I am feeling a deep sense of protectiveness and what seems to almost be love towards her. I am feeling a sense of affection and admiration for her. I am feeling a sense of pride and joy in that she is my partner and my friend. I am feeling a sense of gratitude for the fact that we have each other and for the fact that no one could ever understand me the way she does.

I'm also feeling a strong sense of responsibility for keeping her safe and for taking care of her. I shush and shoo away my many dogs as I close my front door, walking towards my bedroom with Y/N in my arms still I set down her purse and coat on my dining table on the way. I enter my bedroom closing the door behind me, i walk over to my bed and gently lay Y/N down, I remove her Heeled Boots, scarf, and sweater. And pull my comforter over her, move stray hairs out of her face with care. She stirs lightly, "Will?" she asks softly in her half awake state, "Shhh go back to sleep." I say gently and with love......

#fem!reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #hannigram #hannigram x reader #will graham x reader

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moonlightsmasquerade · 5 months

Text

Monsters in Mandela: Blood in the Water

TW: Blood, Body Horror

Mark Heathcliffs nightmares have been giving him the feeling something terrible is going to happen, and when his friend Cesar Torres shows up to his house covered in blood the nightmares end up becoming reality for both.

Mark Heathcliff practically jumped out of the bed, trying to calm his heart rate after another nightmare, they had been getting worse, and this time he was seeing the town in his dreams. This latest one was at the abandoned church, horrific monsters crawling out of the doorway and running around the town. One always stood out, a creature with large bat wings. This time the monster had lunged straight for Mark before he had woken up. He took a deep breath, sitting in his room with a single light on, he picked up the phone by the nightstand, hesitating a moment before Mark pressed the buttons on his phone to ring Cesar Torres, he really needed to hear another person, something rattled him about that dream.

“Hello?” a groggy voice asked

“Hey, it’s Mark.”

“Mark? It’s like… 3 in the morning, why are you calling?” Cesar asked.

“I-I, I had a nightmare.” Mark said, he cringed at himself, he felt like a child, being scared over nothing.

“A nightmare? Mark-”

“I know, I know, but I had to talk to someone!” Mark said, “Cesar it felt real…” He could hear a sigh on the other end.

“Okay, look, since it’s really late right now I’ll come over tomorrow and we can talk about it. You just have to remember it's only a dream, it should be easy to shrug off, it's not real.” Cesar replied.

“Right…” Mark replied

“I’ll see you tomorrow, good night.”

“Night…”

The phone clicked off and Mark was alone again. He placed the phone on the receiver and laid back down on his bed, staring at the ceiling for who knows how long before getting back up, opening the drawer to the side table and pulling his notebook from the drawer, flipping through pages, pages of drawings from dreams and memories that stuck out to him. Remembering when he first saw that old church as a child, seeing horrible faces looking at him from within. He could still remember them clearly even now. He flipped to a clean page and started drawing out the monster from his dream. If he was gonna lose sleep, he might as well add another drawing to the book.

He felt childish for bothering Cesar, but he couldn’t mention the dreams to his mom. She tried to be reassuring but never understood why they scared him so much, Mark hated mentioning anything about the church because it had always been chalked up to childhood imagination. Cesar was the only other person who knew about the reason why Mark had been so afraid of the place.

He finished scribbling the image of the monster, with its large bat wings and long fangs. He put the book back in his drawer before attempting to fall back asleep.

…

"So the old church had monsters running out of it?" Cesar asked when Mark had finished explaining the nightmare

"Yeah, there’s one that keeps showing up, it had red eyes and bat wings… I had seen it a few times but it… attacked me in the dream last night, that’s why I was so freaked out, I’ve never had anything like that happen in a nightmare before.”

"Shit, that sounds… freaky." Cesar made a face, his brows furrowed and his mouth pursed slightly, “And you’re sure you saw St. Gabriels Church, and not any other?”

"Yeah… why?" Mark asked, tone slightly worried. Cesar changed his face to surprise and they looked away.

"It's nothing… well.” Cesar looked back at Mark, like they were mulling over the right words to say to the other, “Okay don’t freak out, but my mom told me two police officers were in the hospital because they went to St Gabriels, and something attacked them."

"What!?" Marks eyes were wide.

"It was probably something normal like, I dunno, some rando or something that attacked them, I don't think it was your bat demon, but I just thought it was a weird coincidence."

"Yeah, weird…" Mark felt anxiety rising. Cesar could see his face twist to worry, and saw him fidget with the cross on his neck,

“You know it’s a coincidence, I really don’t think you need to worry about it!” Cesar said.

“I know I shouldn’t and I know it’s a dream but Cesar, I just… feel like something bad is going to happen. I just, I just know it's coming." he said. Cesar sighed and put his hand to Mark’s shoulder.

"Look y'know what, I think you're having weird stress dreams, you just have to… let it go? I think if you give yourself something fun to do this weekend, we could even hang out again if you want. I think your bad feelings will disappear, alright man?" They smiled to Mark, who smiled weakly back,

"That… that sounds good."

"See! That's all you need.” Cesar turned to the clock on the wall, jumping at the realization of the time, “I better head home, call you later, but not in the middle of the night again.” Cesar said, Mark let out a halfhearted laugh.

"Yeah, call you later"

He watched the other leave. Mark kept his hand around the cross, Cesar was probably right, he was just stressed. Everything would work out. He clasped both hands around the cross.

“Please let it be okay, I know it’s just a dream but please please let everything turn out okay.” He whispered quietly to himself. He hadn’t done this since he was a kid, but he’d hoped that it could give him some comfort until the weekend.

…

Friday evening, Mark hadn’t called again talking about strange nightmares, so Cesar thought that the other took his advice and was feeling better. His house phone rang, he picked it up from the wireless receiver and spoke,

“Hello.”

“Hi Cesar,” His mom’s voice responded on the other end, “Sorry honey, they need all hands on deck at the hospital tonight, I won’t be home. Do you think you’ll be okay on your own?”

“Oh yeah Mom, I’ll be fine.” he responded,

“You remembered to lock the doors?”

“Yes.”

“And the windows?”

“Yes.”

“And the security systems on?”

“Yes, you don’t have to worry about me Mom, I’ll be fine on my own for a night.” Cesar wandered the house, phone still to his ear, double checking the windows and doors locks, to make sure everything was secure. You could never be too careful.

“I know, I can’t help it sometimes.” his mom replied.

“I will be okay, I’ll give you a call again soon, I love you.”

“I love you too hon.”

He clicked the phone off, putting it back on the holder. It wasn't uncommon for his mother to need to stay at work longer, she was trying to not do that as often since the robbery when luckily neither had been home. Once Cesar was satisfied with his check through the house he started to look through the kitchen cabinets, deciding to make dinner. They rummaged for a bit before

Thunk

He paused, listening for another sound.

Thunk

It sounded like the sound of something hitting a window. He quietly opened the cutlery drawer, grabbing a kitchen knife, moving closer to the sound, it sounded like it was coming from the living room, before they could turn the corner of the kitchen to the living room, he heard a

SMASH

Something broke the window. Cesar’s heart raced, beating so loud it was all that they could hear. They stayed quiet, listening, Holding the knife up and entering the living room cautiously, seeing the busted window but no one there, no sound save for wind blowing the curtains. Their eyes scanned everywhere, but it seemed as though no one was there. Everything was eerily still for a moment.

Until Cesar felt hands grab his shoulders.

He screamed struggling against whatever was holding him, they dropped the knife, trying to pull away from it, clawing at the hands with an iron grip on his shoulders. He continued to scream and struggle until something sharp stabbed into his neck. He froze, white hot pain rushed through their body. Cesar's blood felt like it was boiling. Just as suddenly the assailant let him go, and Cesar dropped to the floor. He held onto the wound on his neck, trying to stop the bleeding and used his other hand to push himself off of the floor, he didn’t look to see if the attacker was still here, Cesar ran, stumbling out the door of the house and running to find help.

…

BANG BANG BANG someone pounded against the front door. Mark opened it to Cesar holding his neck, white shirt stained in crimson, breathing haggard and his eyes wide.

“Oh god Cesar!” Mark quickly took him in, Cesar stumbling slightly and Mark holding him up.

“What happened?”

“I don’t… it was behind me… I was attacked…” was all he managed, gasping and stumbling, Mark could see his eyes flutter slightly.

“I’m… tired” his voice barely cracked a whisper.

“No, no, no don’t start falling asleep stay awake ok? Um, list what's in the room, don’t fall asleep.” Mark took the other into the dining room, pulling a chair up, and running to grab the first aid kit under the kitchen sink in the adjacent room.

“Uhm… There’s the table… chairs…”

Mark rummaged through the first aid kit, pulling out what he needed. He gingerly dabbed the disinfectant soaked cotton against Cesar’s wound, two gashes on his neck, Cesar winced but continued listing what Mark asked,

“Photo of… Sarah… Photo of you and… me…” He kept listing items in the room while the other patched him up. Mark finished cleaning the wound, putting a cotton pad and medical tape to keep it in place.

“Okay, all done, how are you?”

“Better I-I guess?” Cesar responded, rubbing at the bandage slightly

“Do you think we need to go to the hospital?”

“No, I think… I’ll be alright” he still sounded tired.

“We can call your mom if you want.”

He gave a noncommittal ‘hm’ in response, Cesar was barely listening to Mark speak, his head felt like it was underwater. The only thing he was aware of was Mark pressing a glass of orange juice into their hands. The smell was sour and overpowering, it made them feel sick, but his throat stung from how dry it felt, so he took a sip anyway.

It tasted rotten.

He coughed and retched, and felt Mark pat their back. His throat still stung. Mark continued to talk to him, but Cesar was preoccupied, he could hear the sound of… a heartbeat? Not their own, it sounded like it was further, the direction it came from seemed to be Mark. His heartbeat was so fast. The sound beat against Cesar's ears, making their head spin.

“I don’t feel very good.” Cesar’s voice was hoarse, he stood up and started to walk to Mark.

“Do you need…” Mark stopped, eyes wide and his heart skipped a beat. What had frightened Mark was the fact the sclera of Cesar’s eyes were a deep angry red.

“C-Cesar?” Mark stammered, stepping backwards, his heart raced. Cesar looked at him confused. He stepped closer, Mark stepped back.

“Why are you-” Cesar gasped, he faltered, nearly losing his footing but caught themself against the table. Their breathing turned shaky, a snap sound echoed as they coiled into themselves, collapsing to the ground. Long clawed nails pushed through bloody fingertips and dug into the floor. The snapping continued, something was shifting under Cesar’s shirt. All Cesar could focus on was the pain, feeling like something was under his skin, trying to rip its way out of their back. Their teeth clenched, his mouth bled slightly from the sharp fangs that now replaced his incisor teeth. The shirt started to rip, followed by the sounds of cracking and stretching of flesh and bone, new shapes forming on Cesar’s back. They were wings, bat wings. Mark gasped, staring at his friend in horror. The nightmare was real.

Cesar looked at him, frightened red eyes full of tears staring at Mark.

“Mark help me… help…It hurts so much, I just want it to stop.” Cesar spoke, his voice was quiet and raspy, like it was painful for him to speak, “I’m scared, I don’t know what's happening to me.”

Cesar tried to move closer, before letting out a small cry, head in their hands, then they looked back at Mark. Their face changed, they bared their teeth at Mark, who screamed. He sprinted away, Cesar letting out a hiss before chasing him as he ran out of the dining room to the stairs, Cesar couldn’t focus, all he could hear was thump, thump, thump. The sound of blood beating through a heart.

Mark ran up the stairs to his room and shut the door, hearing the sound of Cesar slamming against it, banging their fists on the wood.

“Oh god, oh god please, this can’t be happening.” Mark could feel himself panicking, unsure of what to do. He sat still for a moment, he knew he had a weapon in his dresser, he had a gun, but he couldn't, that was his friend, even if his friend had become a monster, he couldn't hurt him.

No, I can’t do that, that’s still Cesar, there has to be another way.

Cesar’s fist banged against the door again, Mark could see the hinges splintering away from the doorframe when the other hit against it. Mark needed a plan, his fingers mindlessly twisted the cross on his neck, giving him an idea. Vampires hate crosses right? Would that work? Maybe it could stop Mark from being attacked long enough to get help, and find a way to fix Cesar. He clasped his hands around the cross again, muttering a prayer before facing the door. After another bang Mark ran and grabbed the doorknob, yanking it open and letting the other fall inside. Mark sprinted around them, heading for the stairs and hearing the sound of a screech, he made the mistake of turning his head.

Cesar had lunged forward, grabbing Mark and the two fell down the set of stairs. Mark hit the floor, trying to ignore the pain and run but Cesar grabbed him. He raised his arm over his face, but it didn’t stop Cesar, he bit into Mark's arm. He cried out, but still tried to push against the other. He could feel himself getting dizzier and dizzier, and all he could feel in his arm was burning pain as blood ran down it. Cesar finally let go of Mark's arm, the room was spinning, he barely had the energy to struggle. He weakly held up the necklace, he hoped that the cross would repel the other, but Cesar didn’t budge, nothing was stopping the vampire. The last thing Mark saw was their fangs still covered in blood as they bit down on his neck.

Mark screamed.

…

Cesar couldn’t focus on anything, only the pain that constantly rushed through him, everything felt like it was on fire. The last thing they could remember clearly was Mark… who looked afraid of him before everything blurred together. Just as suddenly a fog had left his mind and suddenly all of his senses were overwhelmed. The lights were bright, he had the taste of iron in his mouth, and his hands felt sticky. Cesar tried to process what was going on in there when they looked in front of them… at Mark’s body.

Cesar cried out, Mark was covered in blood, he didn't move, he laid there with his eyes shut, a wound on his neck. Cesar hadn’t stopped screaming, scrambling away from the body and falling back onto the carpet. They tried to get back up, but they suddenly felt heavy, like something was weighing them down. He saw something move from the corner of his eye. He turned his head, realizing what was weighing them down, attached to his back were bat wings.

This can’t be real

He pushed himself up, this time able to lift themselves and the extra weight of the wings. Cesar shook, he thought about his attacker, the sharp pain in his neck, they’ve become a monster… they did the same to Mark, but he was…

“No… No no no no no no no.” Cesar repeated. He wanted this to be a bad dream, he wanted to wake up. They tried to think, what the hell was he gonna do? Cesar felt hot tears at the edge of their eyes, and he started to cry.

Mark’s eyes opened, he blinked a few times. The sharp pain in his neck throbbed and he tried to sit up, feeling dizzy as he did, he touched where the pain was, and pulled back a slightly bloody hand. Despite how fuzzy his head felt he remembered clearly what happened, Cesar was a vampire now… and he bit Mark. He turned his head to the only sound in the room, the sound of sobbing, coming from Cesar.

“Ces..” Mark winced at the pain in his throat, “Ces..Cesar.” Cesar jumped at Mark’s voice, his red eyes looked at Mark, startled and confused. Mark tried to stand, stumbling slightly as he tried to do so, his legs felt weak.

"Cesar… Wh-” Mark flinched at the sudden pain in his jaw, he clenched his teeth, a slight trail of blood running from the corners of his mouth as he felt his teeth shifting, he put both hands to his jaw, as if holding his face would make the pain go away. His eyes shut tightly, his body shuddering. Mark curled inward himself. Cesar hesitantly got closer, he could only hear Mark taking shaky breaths.

"Mark?"

Mark's head snapped up, he hissed at Cesar, baring his now sharp teeth at the other. His eyes were slightly bloodshot, and the once warm brown iris was replaced with dark red. Cesar felt a pit in their stomach, any relief that he didn’t kill Mark was gone, he was turned into another bloodthirsty monster. Mark's face changed, he looked… scared.

“What- What’s happening? I can’t…” Mark felt like he was fading in and out, he couldn’t think clearly. Mark suddenly snarled at the other, baring his teeth again. Cesar didn’t want Mark to do what he did, he tried holding onto the other, who thrashed at the attempt to hold them back. Mark pushed the other, who lost their balance and fell back, Mark sprinted for the door and ran out into the night.

“Fuck!” Cesar cursed, he stood up, trying to regain their balance again, and ran outside after Mark, still stumbling slightly from the weight of the wings, any care that anyone would see them went out the window. He had to find Mark and get him back before-

The sound of screaming broke through, Cesar went in the direction of the sound, fearing the worst.

...

Like Cesar, Mark’s mind was completely fogged over, he couldn’t focus on where he was going, just on the pain, the burning in his throat. Every sense was dulled, his body on autopilot, something else was making him run, searching for…a heartbeat. He could hear the sound of a beating heart, and followed it. He knew he moved quickly, lunging at something. There was screaming, he knew that, he could hear it. There was the taste of iron in his mouth, and relief, relief from the pain.

Mark felt himself being pulled away, the fog was disappearing, he could actually understand his surroundings. Cesar was the one pulling him. A man with a bloody wound on his neck, a woman with him was screaming, shouting for someone to call the police. Cesar practically lifted the other up and sprinted, when they ran up to the house they practically threw themselves and Mark inside. Slamming the door and locking it. Cesar looked out the window quickly, before shutting the curtains

“No one followed us… okay okay, it's okay.”

It had gone so fast, Mark looked at his hands, smudged with blood. Blood he drank from someone he attacked. Mark felt sick.

“Did I kill someone, oh god I think I killed someone.” he spoke frantically, his hands shaking. He repeated the words “Oh god, oh god.” while Cesar just paced, hands to their face. Neither spoke for a while, both choosing to sit on the living room floor, Cesar kept his eyes on the door, and Mark felt himself becoming more and more exhausted.

…

Mark opened his eyes, realizing he had fallen asleep. He could see Cesar also fell asleep, lying on their stomach, seeing the wings on their back told him that it was real, not a dream. Mark got up and moved to the curtains, hesitating for a moment before pushing them back, morning, the daylight was now on Mark’s extremely pale skin. Nothing burned, he let out a small sigh of relief. He wondered what to do now, if he should call someone, he even considered venturing outside. He peered through the curtains, using a hand to shade his eyes against the harsh light.

Police cars drove past, one parked nearby, not a good idea to go back out then. He pulled the curtain back. He had to change, the shirt was still stained in blood, and the dried blood still on his skin was starting to itch. Mark headed to the upstairs bathroom, passing by the blood stain in the carpet near the stairs. He was gonna have to deep clean that too, but that was a task for later in the day.

The sink ran with warm water, Mark wiped at his neck with a small towel, the dried blood washing away and showing two scars, he expected them to look like dots, but they looked like scrapes. He got a good look at his face in the mirror, he was paler, red eyes looked back at him. Mark gingerly opened his mouth to see fangs, he reached a hand to them, and realized his nails were sharp with a dark tinge. He looked away from the mirror, swapping the stained shirt for a clean one. His cross had been slightly stained in blood, he rinsed it under the sink. He almost expected it to burn him, but it didn’t, like it didn’t repel Cesar. It didn’t work. His prayer didn’t work.

Mark chewed at his lip. He thought if he prayed, if he believed, then God would be able to protect him. If God was real this cross would burn his skin, make him burst into flames. Instead he put it back on, like he was still a human. He wasn't human, despite the fact he looked human, he knew he wasn't. Thoughts kept running through his mind. Why would God allow monsters to exist, let alone attack people. It all made him feel sick.

“God dammit why.” he whispered to himself.

...

After a few moments Mark headed back to see Cesar now awake, reaching their hand towards the curtain, only to hiss and recoil, a small pink burn on their hand.

“Hey.” Mark said, he held out the shirt for the other to wear, who took it and muttered “Thanks”

“It's old so, I made holes for the…”

“Yeah.” Cesar responded curtly before shuffling up the stairs to change.

It took a bit of work, but Cesar managed to fit the wings through the holes. It still felt strange, as if someone was holding onto his back.

Something I’ll have to get used to I guess. He thought, turning to the bathroom mirror.

One thing that surprised Cesar was still being able to see their reflection. They stared at their new face, his skin turned an ashy grey color and their ears stretched to the shape of a bats. He opened his mouth, looking at the long fangs, and it seemed all his teeth had become sharper. Of course, their eyes were bright red now, overtaking the formerly white sclera. It felt… strange, he knew it was his face in the mirror, but it didn’t feel like that was him, it was someone else, and yet… this was him. Cesar swallowed the lump in his throat, he couldn’t go out looking like this, he was a monster. He couldn’t go home, what would his mother think if she saw him like this?

Oh god… his mom… she’d be home now, she’d come home to him missing, she was going to freak out. Cesar’s stomach twisted in knots thinking about it, but they couldn’t… they couldn’t go back, if she saw him as a monster… the idea of his own mother fearing him, hating him. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t come back, maybe if she just thought he was missing it would be less painful. He slowly walked back down the stairs to Mark, who looked lost in thought, chewing on his bottom lip which bled slightly. He stopped when he saw Cesar.

“There’s a lot of police patrolling, you should stay here, then we can… figure something out.” Mark said.

“Okay… what about your mom?”

“She's out of town, my sister’s with her, we've got the house for a while, I’ll call her, tell her I’m okay.” he said, receiving a ‘hm’ from Cesar.

“After… um… maybe we can call your mom-”

“No! No, I don't think we should call her.” Cesar interrupted. Mark looked at him surprised, but Cesar just stared at the floor, eyes not meeting the others. He didn’t push them on the subject. They both stayed still in the silence, it was hitting both how awful the situation was, and neither knew what to say to the other.

What the hell were they going to do now?

#oh god this was over 4000 words XD #uhhhh i hope you guys enjoy....#tmc mim au #tmc au #tmc fic #tmc #sorry for the bleak cliffhangery ending this would have gone on for three more pages and i needed this out pronto #blood #body horror #any other ask to tag #if you see mistakes no you dont <3 #my fics

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sirensea14 · 7 months

Text

DOUBLE TROUBLE The Comic

[Read from left to right and top to below]

Tw:(mild) BLOOD and VIOLENCE

I finally finished it, yayyyy! WHAHAHHAHAHA

(sorry for my ugly handwriting btw💀 I tried my best to make it readable as possible, also the reason the lightings are different each page is bcoz i pictured all of these at different times, the last page is so cramped up lol) read the alt texts for some dumb explanations/clarifications--

Based from the fnf song "Devil's Gambit" from Indie Cross. Supposed ta be animated, but im still at beginner level tho so imma gonna have to wait. For now, enjoy comics! (i hope you can forgive me for SOOO MUCH ERRORS in there, it aint perfect, i also think the short storyline is garbage, i think i messed it up)

RUNES PORTRAYED:

Lift rune ( tho faded in the first panel of page 2)

Angel's curse rune

Tree rune

Rune array of:

Clarity rune;

Light rune;

Courage rune (partially seen in page 4 panel 8);

Focus rune and;

Day rune

(tho im pretty sure this aint how runes work in Inky mystery but this is my headcanon lol🤷)

Date of Creation : late August 2023 (Aug 30 I think)

Date of Completion : Oct 14 2023

Sorry if it aint that much amazing or exciting as u expect cuz i made it sound like its amazing but its actually garbage💀💀💀

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lericekrispie · 11 months

Text

TW/ mention of rape (nongraphic by a priest) and the Native Genocide

In Honor of Indigenous Awareness Month here's a quick overview what my life has looked like being Indigenous

My parents didn't raise me Native, bc they were told that being white was better. So I didn't have much other than just the dreamcatchers on the walls and some stories my Grandma told me.

It wasn't until I had a dream about some ones funeral the night they passed in their sleep that Grandma told me it was bc of me being Native.

I didn't know what that was supposed to mean. I didn't know what that meant to me.

Flash forward a few years, I've had a couple dreams here and there but more-so I've been hungry. I'd been searching the internet, searching books, asking my grandma questions. Information, correct information at that, was hard to come by. But when I found the right sources, oh boy was there so much. Everything was so vibrant, everything felt familiar. It was more interesting than learning about the Greeks in class, any history lesson, any religion less, it was full and enticing and beautiful, but we never learned about it. Because the U.S. would rather let something this beautiful be swept under the rug rather than admitting to a genocide.

I'm more into my culture now. My family is more into my culture now. I'm learning my language. I've connected with new relatives.

I will never forget the day that my Grandma told me she was proud of me for making her and the family better.

I've been having more dreams. My spirit guide (a black indigenous man who when i first met offered my a drink at a bar) always warns me when something bad is about to happen, or I'm making the right choice about a big decision.

But I've been laughed at for my name. Nobody can say it right.

I cannot register for enrollment in the tribe, despite my Grandma being full blood. It just so happened that my Grandma's parents were from two separate tribes, and the Blood Quantum only takes one. Thats why I don't count, even tho I have that blood from my mother's side, and some extra from my Father, who is mostly yaqui but was adopted.

My relative said "you know what horses, dogs, and Indians all have in common"

The government requires them to have a pedigree

No white person ever knows what a blood quantum is. I have to explain it. It's current and active genocide.

Nobody knows about ICWA. I wrote my final paper on it. My professor gave me a personalized note saying that he thinks that I'm going to go places, and that was one of the best essays he got. He could feel my passion through the page. My people are dying.

When I said a Native prayer because I was showing off how much I had learned, a acquaintance started making nonsense noise at me, making fun of the way I sounded.

When I smudged at a Halloween Party because some people wanted me to help protect them for evil, some people started laughing that I was doing witch craft.

The first tag that pulls up when I search Native is "#Native Women"

I'm three times as likely to get sexually assaulted. Not by other Native people. By White people.

People don't say I look Native. But if you look for more than one second, that's wrong. I get pale in the winter but really dark in the summer, like a lot of Natives. My face is Native. I have my mother's cheekbones. I wear my weight like a every Native I've ever seen about my size. My hair is dark. My eyes squint when I smile. I was always told to take photos again and again bc I was blinking. I didn't know that was a Native thing. My Grandma said people don't think I'm Native because they're so stupid they'd only realize if I wore a beaded headband and a ribbon skirt.

I have to explain and ask teachers all the time if they know something they are showing in class is racists. Sometimes its a yes, and we'll talk about that, or a no, but can you talk about that. My brother who is 13 was never taught about what happened to the native people, and only knew because I told him. I've always have had to know, because nobody else does.

I left the church after the curtain was pulled back. My Grandma who is 70 was forced into a Catholic School when she was young. The priest raped the girls

I was told never to go to the reservation. My mom remembers it as poverty, going to the salvation army and picking up clothes. My grandma remembers it as the place where she was an alcoholic, and she's fought to stay sober for more than half her life now but that only started when she left. My Aunt remembers it as the place her mama got beat by her good for nothing White Ex Husband.

I have no representation. All the old shit is always racist. I'm used as a figure head at sports and as decorations, I'm not human to them.

Nobody admits the Genocide is currently happening.

My sister was pulled in without her permission to the front office with no warning to talk for morning announcements how's she just like the rest of the white kids despite being Native. They gave her a script. Then afterwords they had the audacity to ask for a photo of her in her childhood doing 'native things'. Mom laughed and said she should've told her she didn't have any photos because she was "just like them".

I realized school was never for me, because I was always learn better the Indian way.

Whenever I see a Native person in the wild, and they notice me, there is already a bond there. If I asked them for anything, to talk, for a ride, they would give it to me. If they did so, so would I. My native friends i met in college I adored like they were my cousins.

I've learned that despite me being raised white, I was actually raised Native. My parents give and give and give. They give to the community, their lives are dedicated to help people. That's the Native way. We bleed compassion, and if someone in my community needs my last 5 bucks, they'll get it because I know someone else in my community will help me to not starve, and when they are starving I'll help them too.

Please listen to Native people. Here's to Indigenous Awareness Month.

#mine #text post #native american #indigenous #activism #native american history #native american rights #native pride

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little-paper-ghost-child · 6 days

Text

GODS I SPENT TOO MUCH TIME ON THIS

Here’s the first song story I did

It’s shit because I like barely edited it but whatever it’s done and going out into the world

Tw for: murder, child abuse, strangulation, police (idk if I should add more but Weh)

This is the song

Please remember!!! This is not based off of the song specifically and is just what my brain came up with!!

Anyways here you go

Alex combed his fingers through his hair as he stared down at the photo album. He didn't know how George had gotten a hold of it and he figured it was something violent, but it was still a monster load of unwanted evidence and a hurt in his stomach that worsened as he flipped through the pages. He and Ivan never looked happy per say but everything had seemed so much brighter back then, back before he was alex at all. While he scratched out any mentions of demetri, ivan, or emily, Noticeably, Though he cautiously checked every page and pocket, there was no mention of his father.

He had separate reasons for all of them to be defaced, three separate reasons for three separate things.

Demitri was crossed out because he was dead, he was an idea of what could have been and he was lost. His mother had named him that, and he would not let her have that pride, so he had erased demitri as his quietest form of retaliation.

Emily was crossed out because the bitch didn't deserve to be remembered. She didn't deserve anything she had. And still somehow, she got everything she wanted from the children she hurt and there was never a consequence in the world for her. She was a violent disgusting person unfit to be a mother or a person at all and he hoped nobody had to know her ever again.

He crossed out Ivan for much less angry reasons than the other two, he wanted Ivan to be safe. his little brother. He loved Ivan more than the world itself and hated himself for leaving him.

“Coward” is what the voice in his head called him.

“ monster. Coward. You left him to die in her care.” it gnawed at him every second of everyday and he knew he couldn't go back now. Not while there was evidence still.

“Soon”, he thought.

“Soon is good.”

So Alex continued his work of scratching and defacing all three of the people for all three of his reasons..

It was difficult to do what he needed all the time and never what he wanted, he still felt trapped even out of that hellhole,it really felt like the only difference was that the blood being shed was supposed to mean something.

—

George caught him off guard with the blow to the side of the head and Alex went skittering across the concrete floor.

He felt like everything was underwater and everything was all wrong.

“The fuck?” was all he could manage to string together as he tried to push himself up.

“I've had a change in interest,” George said as he lumbered over.

“Somebody knows how to pay better”

It took longer than Alex liked to form a coherent enough thought to make sense of that.

“To kill me?” choked its way out of Alex's throat while he frantically searched his pockets for any sense of self defense. George twitched a little as he wound up for another hit but didn't answer the question. Alex got to his feet and just barely dodged the second punch, He was racking his brain for something he could use- there was no way he could stand a chance in a fistfight. Alex made it to the drawer in his desk and pulled it open scanning for something, anything that could be used and came back with a letter opener. He thought for a second on how he could use something so small, which hurt considering the previous hit to the side of his head that was definitely less than soft, but he figured something out in the end.

As the larger man approached Alex pretended he could hear his little brother cheering him on, telling him that he could do it, but it was a cruel thing to do because a child let alone a child like Ivan would cheer for something like this.

When George trew his third punch Alex used his smaller frame to an advantage and ducked behind him as quickly as possible.he only had a second to do this correctly and so much of him didn't want this.

“Murderer” said the voice in his head.

“You leave your little brother all alone and you murder the man who has been helping you.”

Alex took a breath for nearly a second, jumped, and planted the letter opener in George's neck.

He made a squeak, and promptly fell over onto the cold concrete.

He was frozen, then. he was locked in place staring down at the presumably dead man

That he had thought was his friend.

“It's not your friend if you have to pay it to care” he reminded himself and closed his eyes tight.

Why did it have to be so hard?

Why did stuff like this come up?

Why couldn't everything just be okay?

Alex wanted so badly for everything to be okay, but there was no way to obtain something like that. He wanted it more than anything in the world and he would never get it, and even when things finally seemed to work out, it always went to shit.

Why did it have to do that?

Why did it have to be so hard?

Why did stuff like this come up?

Why couldn't everything just be okay?

It hit him in a second that all the evidence was gone. All the evidence he could possibly get rid of was gone with George, if everything was gone, there was only one place he was supposed to go.

—

Alex got in his car after he had finished defacing anything that he had left remotely close to a normal keepsake. He left the body, he didn't care. He knew where he was going, he remembered being dragged back by walk or car every time he tried to run away. He could practically hear Emily screaming at him that she swore he was trying to get them in trouble.That he was a disgusting excuse for a child. That his father was waiting for him at home.he could never remember anything but angry flashes after that.

Even though he knew the way perfectly, it still took something out of him to get to the right streets. He figured he had a concussion but now was not the time to worry about that. There was that, and there was the voice in his head as well.

“Why would you go back when you are just going to hurt? Murderer murderer murderer.you left little brother all alone to kill your own father, and you couldn't even find him. Why would Ivan want to see you ever again? Not to mention Emily will be there too. Can you really face her? Maybe you want to see her, because for all of the shit maybe you are a mama's boy. You probably failed to protect your brother. You are failing to stay away. Maybe Emily will hurt you again, maybe you deserve it. You probably even liked it when-”

“Shut up”, Alex said aloud. “I hate her and I hate you.”

he looked in the rearview mirror for the last comment, glaring at himself like it would leak through into his thoughts and make them go away. He hated remembering, hated thinking about it at all, hated her voice echoing around his head, but things would never change so he did his best to push her out of his mind for now.

As he turned the corner, one side of the road opened down a lake miles below. Alex weighed the possibilities of anyone finding him if he drove off and into the water, but he had heard that drowning wasn't exactly as quick and easy enough to make it all that tempting.

—

Alex got out of the car before he turned the street corner. He had grabbed his gun from the car, and the voice inside his head bubbled up to hiss at him.

“A gun?” it said. “Murderers use guns. Monsters use guns. What do you think that makes you? What are you going to do with it anyway? You could end up hurting ivan.”

Alex shook his head as if to shake the voice right out of his head and shoved the gun into his belt.

“It was just in case,” he told himself.

“Just in case anything went badly like it always seemed to.”

Seeing down the street he grew up on hurt Alex more than he wanted to think about.

“No” he thought

“Dimitri grew up here.” was easier to think about but only by a little.

Nothing was easy here, it never had been and it never would be but he would take what comfort he could get, and if that was by remembering a dead dream then he would remember but not connect.

As Alex walked towards his inevitable destination he scanned the roads and felt like a little kid again, recounting things that had happened in certain places. There was a tree that dimitri was once sitting under when a branch fell off, there were the bushes where dimitri had been bitten by a stray dog who roamed around, from which alex still had a small scar. There was the spot on the road where the police had been called the first time- and the spot where they had been called the second. And finally, there was the house.

Walking down the driveway he could see the trash bags all up one side of the fence. Piles of empty bottles and cans were shoved under the rotting porch and as he walked down the driveway Alex could smell the house reeked of beer and mold and filth.

“This was a bad idea” said the thoughts in his head.

“Your brother doesn't want to see you anyway. And you know what emily will do when she finds you-”

Alex forcefully shoved that voice out of the way and stared at the door. From inside there was something that might have been a yell, and something glass breaking.

He couldn't stall any longer.

After a minute all too short to prepare himself, Alex opened the door and went in.

—

The smell was worse on the inside.

The carpet was dirty and the ground was littered with all sorts of things that couldn't be safe for walking on, which made him more so glad he had kept his shoes on. Now that he was inside he could see that the disarray of the place had only gotten worse after he left, which made sense considering most of the cleaning was done by Alex himself, but was still upsetting to see. As he moved through the house, he remembered a thousand awful little things. Pins under fingernails, the feel of uncooked, moldy fruits or vegetables in his mouth, little cockroaches and worms that made homes in the mess. He didn't like thinking about it, remembering it made him want to scratch at his skin, made him feel dirty.

Nothing in this house was nice, but nothing had gotten under his skin until he saw the whiskey on the counter.

It was half empty and there was a dirty glass set beside it. Alex gaged like he was trying to throw it up, but there was nothing to throw up. He hated the sight of it, hated the burn of it, he remembered crying, crying made it worse.

For every cry he let out she would always pour a little more into the cup, a little more, a little more, until he stopped crying, sometimes he threw up, sometimes he fell asleep, sometimes he couldn't remember.

Alex’s hand raised instinctively to his mouth.

“you are going to throw up oh no, oh god no you feel sick you are sick and everything is wrong, stop crying you're only going to make it worse it burns you are suffocating it burns it hurts you are going to be sick you are going to throw up-”

The crash of something glass and a strangled yell upstairs broke Alex out of his headspace, and his focus snapped to the staircase. Alex ran up the stairs and turned the corner so fast he almost fell over. He barely even thought as he ran to the one open door, and he barely even thought as he reached for his gun.

—

Emily Volkova had never been a good person. She only hurt and ruined and broke people and things and really anything she could get her hands on. And her own two children were things remarkably easy to get her hands on.

Ivan was on the ground, just barely struggling against Emily, who had her hands around his neck so tight it looked like she herself was straining. She was never particularly strong but she had the advantage of being a grown woman fighting against a nine year old boy, and the advantage that the nine year old boy she was fighting wanted nothing more than for her to love him.

Alex could see ivans mouth moving, trying to choke out words that were lost to his excuse of a mothers screaming. Alex could barely understand what he was saying, but he didn't need to. What he did know was that Emily volkova had never been a good person, and that he was going to make her stop.

The sound of the gun cocking might have been what had gotten her attention, or she had just happened to notice at the moment he was leveling it to her head.

“Demitri, why the fuck are you here?” she said, barely loosening her grip on ivan. Her shock turned to anger turned to vicious manipulation faster than Alex could keep up with.

“Did your little trip go well? you leave right after your father so i have to take care of this stupid fucking kid by myself, why would you leave your own mother?”

“Shut up” was all that Alex said. He had built up all this hatred for this woman in his head but being with her now, seeing her, he hated himself for being scared.

She put on a face like she was hurt before shoving Ivan to the ground and getting up.

“dont tell me to fucking shut up you little shit. You would really shoot your own mother too? In Front of your little brother, the world out there has ruined you demitri.”

She took a step towards Alex and he had to fight himself not to step back, shaking as he tried to hold the gun in place.

“Ivan, close your eyes and cover your ears” he said, trying to see around Emily to his brother, who moved slowly and shakily.

“That's it.” Emily said with a little more fear in her voice.

“Put the gun down, Demitri, you can't do this to your mother.”

“You were never my mother, I was never your son.” was all Alex said before he pulled the trigger.

—

Alex didn't like guns all that much because they were very loud and sometimes made big messes. He didn't like this situation much at all but he had to make sure that Ivan was okay, Alex could wait for later. As he moved his way into the room, he locked eyes with Ivan and felt a gut wrenching tear in his stomach. He could feel how hurt this little boy was. Then, he could see it. The bruises around his neck were to be expected, he had a black eye too. Ivan was covered in bruises, over his arms and legs that Alex could see. He seemed to have little cuts too, burns or razor slashes, cuts from kitchen knives or cut up soda cans might have been in the mix too. Some looked new, some looked old, more than a few looked infected.

“Oh god ivan.” Alex said involuntarily.

Ivan just stared, shaking, scared.

“I'm so sorry.” didn't get a response either.

So Alex sat with Ivan for a moment, a few more, what felt like an eternity, until Ivan reached and grabbed a hold of Alex's coat sleeve, then buried his face in Alex's shoulder. Alex held on like he was going to lose him again.

He never wanted to let go.

Ivan was cold and he was shaking, Alex could feel it radiating off of his body. He felt a pull of guilt, but he buried it, that's not what either of them needed right now.

“I'm going to take you away from here okay?” Alex told him.

“I'm going to make sure that nobody hurts you ever again.”

He scooped Ivan up and carried him slowly down the stairs, whispering gentle reassurances that he knew meant next to nothing.

He just wanted it to be okay,

He just wanted Ivan to be okay.

Alex hated that this gentleness felt like a lie after all that he’d done, but as long as Ivan could be alright again he would fake a whole world.

Quietly reaching the bottom of the stairs, Alex shifted his hold on Ivan to open the door. The doorknob was sticky under his fingers as he turned the knob, opening the door to the porch. From the porch you could see the whole yard, and you could see Domonik Volkov standing in the grass.

—

Ivan could feel his older brother tense, but the way he was positioned, he couldn't quite see.

“What is it?” he wanted to say, but words couldn't find their way to his mouth. A man's voice said something in a language he heard grown ups speak sometimes and Ivan tried to squirm to look, but Demitri held him too close. His older brother slowly, very slowly, walked off the porch to a bush and very carefully sat Ivan down on the dead grass.

“Stay here,” he said to ivan.

“Stay here, and don't look over there, and cover your ears, okay?”

Ivan nodded, and turned in the opposite direction of where he wasn't supposed to look.

Alex gave his hand a tight squeeze and got up.

Ivan tried his best to cover his ears but his wrists were weak and his hands shook so he opted for cradling his face between his bruised knees.

It wasn't good sound protection, he could still hear the two talking, arguing in the language that he didn't know.

There was a word he did know though,

“Monster.” Demitri kept saying.

“Something-something-monster.”

.It sounded so cold off of his brother's tongue that the sharpness felt like a whole different person entirely, sounded more like mother if Ivan had to place it, but he didn't like to place the two in the same category.

There were sirens too now, they started far away but they kept getting louder and louder, and so was the arguing. The sirens eventually stopped and flashy red and blue lights painted the grass around Ivan with a fractured looking glow, but the arguing still went on. Ivan tried to pretend that everything was okay, that somebody was just having a dance party with some nice, police coloured lights.

The argument sounded more frantic now, like they were running out of time to be mad at eachother.

Everything sounded scary, the flashing lights felt dizzying and the yelling was too loud even when ivan tried to cover his ears and then-

The gunshot made everything go dead silent. Ivan squeezed his eyes shut so tight that he saw little spots in his eyelids. Somebody started walking over to the bush and Ivan looked up in hope but it wasn't Demitri, it was somebody that Ivan presumed to be a police officer. The officer scooped Ivan up in his arms and carried him to the back of his car where he gave him a blanket and stale cookie.

Ivan looked out at what he could of the scene, dead grass,lots of blood, the man that must have been the angry voice that weirdly looked alot like his father with a big towel over his face, and then dmitri, being arrested.

The eye contact was short, the brief message that his older brother sent was a fierce look and a nod.a nod as they shoved him into the back of the police car, as Ivan got driven away too.

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rynneer · 7 months

Text

Blood of Durin

A reader-insert fanfiction

Y/N doesn’t know how she found herself in Middle Earth, how she found herself among the Company of Thorin Oakenshield, or how she let herself be captivated by the elder Durin prince—but she does know one thing.

She’s carrying his child.

Chapter One: Meet Me in the Woods

tw: pregnancy

show me yours and i’ll show you mine—meet me in the woods tonight.

-Meet Me in the Woods, Lord Huron

You sit hunched over by the fire, poking at the cinders with a long stick and watching the rising smoke disappear into the leaves overhead. The stars are just barely visible as twilight descends over the woods. In the distance, a lonely wolf howls. You shiver, missing the security and sturdy walls of Beorn’s home. A sharp pain runs through your abdomen, and you unconsciously wrap an arm around yourself. The cramps are coming more frequently. You aren’t sure how much longer you can hide them before the rest of the Company catch on. For now, the dwarves seem preoccupied with making camp, too distracted to notice your discomfort. Bilbo sits beside you, his nervous eyes darting in your direction every once in a while. If anyone is on the verge of finding out, it’s the burglar.

Gandalf left the party a week ago, mentioning some vague business he had to attend to. Now, more than ever, you wish he had stayed—he was centuries old, surely he’d have some advice. But he’s gone, leaving you, a human woman, with thirteen dwarves and one hobbit. And he took the ponies, too. Your feet are in agony.

Another stabbing pain makes you grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Y/N?” Bilbo nudges you gently. “Are you alright?”

You force a smile. “I’m fine, Bilbo. I’m just… thinking ahead.” You glance down at the book beside you. The Hobbit. The other members of the Company had clamored to read it once everyone had recovered from the shock of a young human waking up among them the morning after leaving Bag End. You refused to hand it over, and guarded it fiercely. Even if they were to read it, it’d be little help. Still, it’s a comfort you take solace in, even if you can’t remember what will happen beyond a few days.

Bilbo’s eyes follow yours. The hobbit doesn’t seem quite satisfied, but he doesn’t press further. You pick up the book and thumb through its blank pages. It’s about halfway full, the story only showing events that have already happened. At least, events as Tolkien wrote them. Events that didn’t account for a twenty-something woman crashing into the story.

Another cramp—a bad one. You quickly turn away from Bilbo, biting your tongue so hard you’re surprised you don’t bite right through it. You can’t take it any longer. With a sigh you get to your feet, absentmindedly adjusting your bra strap. “I’m going to get more firewood,” you announce to nobody in particular. A few of the dwarves grunt in acknowledgement. You scan them, evaluating who would take the news the best. Glóin? He’d have first-hand experience, but you haven’t spent much time with him. Not enough to talk about this. There’s the kind-hearted Bofur, but you don’t trust him to keep your secret for long. Finally, your eyes reach Balin. Perfect.

Balin was the first dwarf to readily accept you into the Company. He had taken a fatherly attitude toward you since the beginning, comforting you when the homesickness became too much to bear.

“Balin? Would you help, please?”

The old dwarf furrows his brow. There is already a small stack of firewood near the bedrolls. You put on your best pleading face. Still a bit confused, Balin shrugs and makes his way over.

Bilbo stands, brushing off his waistcoat. “Believe I’ll come along, if you’ll have me,” he says. “I could do with a brisk walk.”

Again, you bite your tongue. You consider the hobbit before you. The two of you have the most in common out of the Company, both thrust into some strange adventure and completely out of your depths. You relent with a sigh, leading your companions away from the fire until you can no longer hear voices bickering over who should sleep where and who took the first watch last night.

“Whatever you mean to tell us, I do believe we are quite far enough from the others,” Balin comments.

“What makes you think I want to tell you anything?” You keep your tone light.

“You’ve no tool for felling wood. What’s on your mind, lass?”

You stop, curling and uncurling a fist nervously before turning back to him.

“I… I’m not sure how to say this,” you mutter. Deep breaths. “I skipped my period. Two weeks ago. I never skip.” You begin pacing.

Bilbo glances back and forth between you and Balin with concern. “Period?”

“Shark week. Aunt Flo. The crimson tide. Bloody Mary. Japan is attacking. For fuck’s sake, my bleeding, Bilbo,” you snap, grabbing at your hair in frustration. “At first I thought maybe it was the stress of the journey, but I’ve been so tired, and my boobs have been sore, and my clothes haven’t felt right, and I wake up nauseous, and–”

“Lass,” Balin interrupts quietly, reaching a hand out to pause your pacing. Concern is etched into every line on his face as he looks up at you. “Are you telling us that you are with child?”

Without even thinking, you place a hand on your belly protectively. “I think so,” you whisper. Tears fill your eyes and spill onto your cheeks.

Bilbo gapes at you. “You’re pregnant?”

A sniffle and a nod. “Eight weeks along, I think.”

“Oh, lass,” Balin murmurs. He pulls gently on your arm, easing you to the ground and wiping your wet cheeks with his cloak. “How do you feel about it?”

“Scared,” the word escapes your lips before you have time to think. You look down at your lap, tears dripping onto your faded denim jeans.

Balin nods. “I imagine that’s the proper way to feel.” He pauses, searching your face. “You must tell Fíli.”

Your eyes widen and you snap your head up. “How…?”

“Well, it’s rather obvious,” Bilbo interjects. “Anyone with eyes could see it.”

Heat pulses from your reddening cheeks. “We were trying to keep it secret,” you mumble. “Especially from Th–”

“Y/N? Balin? Bilbo?”

A shout from the trees makes you jump. Fíli comes stomping through the leaves and pushing through the undergrowth. “Bombur’s got a stew going, and…” his words die on his tongue as he takes in the scene before him: Bilbo crouching nervously by your side while Balin gently rubs your back. “What’s going on?”

Balin stands. “I believe Y/N has something she needs to tell you.” He beckons for Bilbo to follow, patting Fíli on the arm as he passes. “Congratulations,” he whispers.

Fíli frowns. His little mustache braids sway as he looks between you and the retreating figures of Balin and Bilbo. “What was that?” He kneels and gently strokes your cheekbone with his thumb. Concern fills his blue gaze, the gaze that had ensnared you, stolen your heart back within the safety of Rivendell. “Are you alright?”

You sniff and clumsily wipe at your eyes with your sleeve. “I didn’t know how to tell you, but… I’m…” You trail off, the words sticking in your throat. Instead, you take Fíli’s hand from your face and slip it beneath your shirt to rest on your stomach. Slowly, you look up at him, willing your eyes to say what your lips cannot.

He stares at you blankly. But as his eyes flicker from your face to his hand under the cloth, you watch the realization slowly dawn on him. “Y/N…” he whispers in disbelief. “You’re…?”

You nod, bracing for anger, rejection, disappointment. Instead, you find yourself wrapped in his arms and lifted into the air as Fíli spins you around, laughing. He stops abruptly and sets you back on your feet, gripping your shoulders and holding you back at arm’s length. “You really are?”

The boyish excitement on your dwarf’s face brings a small smile to your lips. “I really am.”

He lets go of you and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m going to be a father,” he breathes. Suddenly, he pales. “It… it is mine, isn’t it?”

That finally coaxes a laugh from you. You step forward and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the hollow of his shoulder. “Of course,” you murmur. “No one else but you.”

“I love you, ghivashel,” he murmurs back, lips gently brushing your neck. You stay like that for what feels like hours, melting into each other.

“Fíli! Y/N!” A sharp call comes from the trees behind you.

Hastily, you push away from Fíli and clear your throat as his uncle pushes through the brush. Thorin jerks his head back toward the fire. “You two have first watch tonight,” he grunts. Seeing the two of you standing so close, he narrows his eyes and opens his mouth as if to continue, but shakes his head and starts back toward camp.

You take Fíli’s hand and intertwine your fingers as the pair of you follow the path of broken twigs left by Thorin’s heavy steps. Fíli starts to pull his hand away as you reach camp, and reluctantly you let go. The agreement still stands between you: no one finds out until the quest is fulfilled.

But with the secret now bearing literal fruit, you wonder how much longer it can last.

#fanfiction #thehobbit #reader insert #Fíli #fili x reader #fili x you #i’m sorry tolkien #middle earth #blood of durin #Kíli #thorin and company #bilbo baggins #thorin oakenshield

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