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saintsofwarding · 11 months

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WE SHALL BE MONSTERS

Header by @trout-scout

Chapter 15: A Changed Man

The first of the lycans made their appearance halfway down the misty mountain path that led to the village. Green glimmered between the trees, darts of movement, low snarls through the wind. Rose kept her hand on her sword, but Dimitrescu just smirked.

"Let them have their fun," she said. "I'll show them I haven't forgotten when they cowered at my feet."

Donna led them down the path, a long, winding road through lonely forests and over a ravine, so dense with mist only the distant sound of rushing water told Rose it had a bottom at all. Before she left the house, Donna had hidden her face behind the black silk of a mourning-veil, and as the wind blew it fluttered behind her, a dark flag against the stark white and gray of the landscape.

The rickety rope bridge juddered and swung as they crossed it, but Donna stepped from plank to plank like she was walking down the sidewalk, even in her high-button boots. She must have crossed this way hundreds of times in the past, so much it became second nature.

"Here," she said, suddenly, stepping off the path and heading toward a rocky outcropping beyond.

Rose's heart gave a hard knock against her sternum. She clutched her sword strap tighter as she crunched through the snow and joined Donna on the ledge.

Before her spread the village.

What was left of it, anyway. She'd seen glimpses of it in Heisenberg's memories, had hundreds of times imagined what it must have looked like, sometimes a nightmare of blood and crooked houses and horrors behind every door, sometimes a strange fairy-tale place, vines growing over walls, the land trapped under some strange enchantment. A village of shadows, lost in the forest.

The reality was neither. This...this was devastation. Vast, calcified constructs of mold, like crystalline trees, sprouted from the snow, twisting over houses and churches, courtyards and streets. The broken towers of a red-brick fortress rose through the constructs, one side of them blackened and twisted, facing a crater in the landscape.

It looked unreal: a huge burned hole in the world, its edges crumbling stone crusted with ice, circled by crows that at this distance looked like nothing more than scattered scraps of ash thrown to the breeze.

"The bomb," Rose whispered. That was where Ethan had died. That was where he'd be, if Ouroboros was right and his remains were still intact, in some way.

"Indeed," said Dimitrescu, her voice dripping with loathing.

Rose tried to make out more detail in the crater, but they were still too far off. The castle rose beyond, spearing into the low gray clouds, cast in blue at this distance. Against the backdrop of the snowy mountains, its windows dark, it looked like some great, ancient beast laying down before the ruins of its den.

"Oh, no, no, no," Dimitrescu breathed. "What did they do to you?"

"It looks all right from here," Rose said, squinting.

"No." Her voice dropped into a snarl. "No. Something is wrong. I am certain of it, now. Something is terribly wrong."

She turned on her heel and stalked off. With a glance at Donna, Rose hurried after her, breaking into a run to keep up with Dimitrescu's stride.

The mist thickened on their descent. They passed through graveyards, through thick underbrush, through snowbanks heaped higher than Rose was tall. Her pulse strengthened with each step. Growls split the silence. The lycans were coming. Eyes glimmered; teeth glistened. They hung back, still not descending on them. Dimitrescu, her claws half-unsheathed so they looked more than ever like the talons of some vast bird of prey, had to be a pretty strong deterrent, but Rose couldn't get her proclamation out of her head, that something was wrong.

Past an ancient, half-collapsed gateway, a moon-and-sun sigil affixed to its apex, the path opened out into a kind of arena, its rocky walls so thickly knotted and entwined with crystallized mold-vines that it looked like tree roots bursting through the cliffs. A stone pedestal in its center showed a place that must have once allowed something to be mounted there.

Rose's nerves stung. Dread mounted. A baby's cry echoed in the back of her mind.

My Eva...

"She resurrected me...there..." Rose murmured. A pathway led off through the mold-vines, its limits lost in shadow. Still, Rose saw it in her head. The statues of four kings encircling the ceremony site.

The great stone chalice, ancient thing, bubbling with liquefied mold.

And in its depths-

She pressed the heel of her hand to her head as the memories came thick and fast, rising to the surface as if through water. She'd been so close...so close...reaching out, grabbing hold...leaves scars, tears pieces-

Then, of course, she'd been distracted by a magnum shot to the face, her lycan army torn apart by Heisenberg's metal soldiers. That was about where her memories ended. Heisenberg would have taken her, then, or been given her, and that was when he'd fled.

The others were already a ways on. Donna had paused, but she kept darting glances at the circle of lycans, closing in.

One gave a snarl, leaping down from the root mass higher up. Rose drew her sword in a slash; the monster skittered back, snapping, a weapon made from a horse jawbone lashed to a stick clutched in its hairy hand.

"And stay back," Rose spat.

She backed after Donna and Dimitrescu, down a slope. The smell of rot hit her as she approached what through the mist appeared to be an irregular gated archway spanning the path. She faltered as it came into her view. A vast arch of animal parts, rotting or desiccated, lashed together into ghastly form. Antlers and limbs stuck from the arch's upper edge, spikes and juts of broken bones, glistening.

A couple lycan heads were impaled on the points, eyes picked to jelly by the circling crows.

Black flesh dripped gobs of rotting matter onto the gate below, wrought-iron with a pattern in animal bones tied onto the struts. A circular pattern, Rose realized. Six-winged- real crow wings torn off at the joint- and fetal, curled up as if sleeping.

The lycans must have made it. Rose saw that it stretched to either side, forming a crude fence that must encircle the entire village. And they must add onto it with frequency- some of the pieces looked downright fresh.

"Facilis descensus averno," Dimitrescu said.

"Huh?" Rose tore her gaze away from the archway.

"The descent to hell," Dimitrescu translated, "is easy."

Rose wanted to grumble wow, high school English class, much, anything to steady her nerves, but Dimitrescu's description was way too apt. These lycans weren't attacking. They were just letting them walk right in.

Easy. More like too easy.

There was no time to turn back now. They crossed beneath the lycans' archway and into the village itself.

The mists rolled away before them. If it had looked bad from on high, then at ground level, it looked like something from some alien landscape. The crystalline growths- the remains of Miranda's mold constructs- burst from the ground, the walls, the houses, some demolishing buildings, sprouted straight through their foundations and arching over the streets. They formed tunnels, thickets of glittering growths, the houses so deeply trapped within their translucent, milky boughs they looked nearly fused together.

From most hung long charms made of bone and scavenged shiny objects, clacking and chiming with each gust of wind. More evidence of the lycans lingered- the rotting ribcage of a deer or other large animal, detritus dragged from a house to form a kind of lean-to or nest in a hollow between two growths, scratch-marks in the crystal as if to mark territory.

Only near the entrance, though. As they delved deeper into town, Rose saw less and less until they were gone altogether. The carrion crows retreated, circling high above. Nothing was left but the treelike growths, crystal gleaming in the thin daylight.

Even Dimitrescu looked unsettled, her eyes bright, tendons standing out on the backs of her hands. This was her home, Rose reminded herself. The place she'd lived since before her transformation, the place she'd been reborn as the powerful monster she was now.

"Mother Miranda did all this?" she said as they began further down the pathway. They passed the statue of a young girl holding a sword and shield aloft, strangling tentacles of calcified mold twining round her throat and wrists. "Her power was so great?"

"Yeah," Rose said. She paused to duck under a calcified branch. It snagged at her hair, pulling a few silvery strands loose. "Chris told me it was your deaths that allowed her to get so powerful. Your biomass plus all the slaughtered villagers...well, I guess it gave her lots of play-doh to mold into whatever she wanted."

She glanced sidelong at Dimitrescu. "She wasn't your mother. She just wanted to use all of you. You know that, right?"

"I would have done anything for her. Anything."

"Why?"

She smirked. "She made me into this. Would that not be enough for you?"

Rose considered, clambering over a root-growth that burst over the street itself, forming a barricade. "Yeah, I guess you have a point there."

Dimitrescu turned her attention to the castle, stepping over the barricade that Rose had just climbed. "She gave me that. And with it...truth. Of who I was. A legacy, settling upon my shoulders like wings. The means to mold the world at my command. There is something in that castle I need, child, if I am to fight a war for what is mine."

"Oh?"

"My armor," Dimitrescu said. "In antiquity, I learned, the leaders of the great House Dimitrescu would ride into battle at the fore of their army. They never quailed in fear. They defended what was theirs. And they wore the ancestral armor of our house while doing it."

She made an elegant movement with one hand, talons singing against the wind. "As shall I."

"Armor?" Rose's mouth fell open. "No freaking way-"

Dimitrescu lifted her head. "Indeed. Made to fit."

She glanced sidelong at Rose, the edge of her lip lifted from one incisor. "Drenched in blood, I shall cut an...intimidating figure, I think."

Rose did think. Still, she glanced around herself again, watching the lycans as they circled them, leaping and scrabbling from rooftop to rooftop, staring down at them but not advancing.

"I don't like this," she said.

"Mm." Dimitrescu eyed her in turn. "Curious."

"What's curious?"

"Perhaps they smell you."

"Oh, come on," Rose said, in a rush. "They-"

"Stop," Donna whispered.

Rose faced front, lifting her sword. Dimitrescu's claws slithered to their full length. A figure stood in the mists ahead, swathed in a robe, bare feet squelching in the icy mud. Their hands were lifted.

Rose narrowed her eyes. Those fingers didn't end in claws.

"Not a lycan?" Dimitrescu muttered.

"Oh!" The voice wailed forth. "Great ones! You have returned to us once more!" The stranger tottered forward, hands still lifted- in...exaltation? Rose's frown got deeper. "You...you have been away for so, so long...so long...this place has...suffered, yes, suffered without your harmony providing balance to the land-"

"Stay the fuck back!" Rose ordered.

The stranger stumbled with an 'oh!' and collapsed to their knees. Their hood fell back, revealing a woman in her late twenties with a fine-boned, almost starved-looking face. Her head was roughly shaved, covered in tufts of hair and bloody scrapes. She wore a heavy collar of small bones and rocks; it jangled as she knelt there in the mud, her hands and feet blue with the cold.

"I beg your forgiveness," she cried. "Please, please, I am merely the messenger..."

"Messenger for what?"

"To invite you!" One arm swung back, pointing up toward the castle. "To my Great Lord's holy dwelling."

"Your great lord's?" Dimitrescu strode forward, lifting her claws. "I will show you who is the great one among-"

"Wait, wait." Rose hurried in front of Dimitrescu before she could slice the strange woman into lunch meat. "Wait. You live here? In the village. With the lycans?"

"Oh, yes. Since before! Before the Cataclysm." She nodded, her huge, pale green eyes glistening. "I cleaned the blood from the cells in the dungeons. Up in the castle. I was just a fool-headed child. No one paid attention to me. So when the dying started..."

She let out a little giggle. "...I hid, and watched the flames light up the skies, the Black God consumed! Devastation! And then, afterward, when the dark flooded in, I was found, and I was saved. By my Great Lord. He saved many of us. As many as he could wrest from the lycans."

Growls rippled through the darkness around them. The lycans had followed them. Rose's eyes darted from side to side; everywhere she looked shone eyes, teeth, fangs and crude weaponry.

In the distance-

A huge bellow shook the air, echoing through the mist. That sounded a hell of a lot bigger than the other lycans.

"Is your lord keeping them back now?" Rose asked quickly.

The other girl nodded. "It takes much of his power. But yes! He wished for you to be safe during your travels through his village."

"And if we don't accept your invitation?"

Those pale eyes widened. "Oh, please don't do that," she said.

Rose took a slow breath. The taste of rot, barely masked by the cold, burned in the back of her throat.

"Fine," she said. "Take us to your leader."

"He'll be so excited!" the stranger cried, scrambling ahead with a loping, stumbling gait that gave Rose the impression she was about to fall onto all fours. "There haven't been any new visitors for...for a long time! Just the lycans."

She giggled again. "And they aren't very good conversationalists."

Up the path, past the ruins of a tiny, ancient church. Rose blinked at the ornate stone gateway that had once heralded the entrance to the castle, had once borne the carvings of the warrior maiden and a demonic beast.

Now, the entire thing was swathed in a thick coating of glutinous green slime. It pulsated slightly, frog-spawn and membranous tissue, the smell bringing tears to Rose's eyes- worse than the rot, it smelled like when she'd pilfered a fifth of cheap whisky from Heisenberg's stash and chugged it all at once. She'd thrown up for what felt like hours until her mouth tasted like acid and regret. This was that, magnified.

A barrier of the stuff stretched over the gateway, but as their guide approached it melted away into a hissing, writhing pool.

Beyond the gateway-

The entire castle was covered in the stuff. What had once surely been a stream was now choked with the slime, the drawbridge caked in it, the castle walls dripping with a seemingly-endless coating. Through a gatehouse, up a long, curving path hemmed in by sheer stone walls- all was warped under a sea of green slime, plumes of steam rising from its surface to obscure the pale sky behind a muggy layer of clouds.

Inside was even stranger. Through a vast pair of bronze double-doors, shuddering wide at their guide's push, a once-gorgeous entry hall now flickered and hummed with the static from countless televisions.

Rose thought of Heisenberg's workshop under their apartment building, the dozens of televisions there, but these were stuck together with yet more slime. They cast their cold glow over gilt and Baroque fixtures, broken windows and parquet floors. A couple bore not static, but- Rose looked, incredulously, closer- old movies. Black and white.

Ooh, that one wasn't so old.

"Is that-" she started, then let out a laugh. "Holy shit, is that Fifty First Dates?!"

"Impossible," Dimitrescu said.

"I, I mean, unlikely, but-"

"Not that," she snarled. "This. This ruin."

She seemed to crackle with a kind of seething rage. She broke away from the group, approaching a huge painting set beneath a gilded arch. Even through the damp stains, Rose still made out the three young women on it, pretty brunettes dressed in 19th century gowns, their hair curled and set with ornaments.

Now, a particularly large television was shoved in front of them, blocking them from view.

"No!" Her howl echoed through the halls, scraping at Rose's guts. She turned and stalked away, ripping open one of the doors from the entryway with such force it cracked off its hinges.

"Wait!" their guide cried, wringing her hands together. "Wait- please!"

They hurried after her, through dark hallways encrusted in mucus, shattered picture frames and mauled furniture, the walls smeared with dark fluids for which Rose had no name. The stench of stomach acid, rot, and bile grew stronger as they wound deeper into the castle, at last emerging through a set of carved double doors and into a vast hallway.

Dimitrescu stood in its center, between four angelic statues now overgrown with slime, barnacle-like growths sprouting like extra eyes from their pale marble. She breathed hard, staring up a sweep of steps, at the thing waiting for them above.

For a heartbeat Rose thought it was a part of the slime that surrounded them, some mutant mass that had grown straight through the walls, busting open the gilding and gorgeous wood panels to become half creature, half architecture. Great tumorous swells of flesh and goo. Long, ropy tentacles, twisting and writhing slickly against the marble floor. Gills fluttering in random places, exposing incongruously-delicate interiors. What looked like fleshy sacs, pinkish and translucent and webbed with veins, inflated and deflated, and orifices gaped, expelling spills of radioactive-looking liquid that hissed on contact with the floor.

It towered over them, and past them, a vast, ever-moving, ever-twitching wall of fleshy matter, and Rose wondered for a lightheaded moment whether it extended back into the castle, taking up rooms like some fungal growth, propagating itself wherever there was empty space.

Eyes rolled within the mass, gleaming iridescent gold like a squid's, their U-shaped pupils contracting at the sight of Rose and Donna and Dimitrescu at the bottom of the stairs.

"You...you came!" The voice sputtered from one of the thing's orifices, along with a spray of green fluid. "My family...I thought...I thought I would never see you again!"

And Dimitrescu, who for the first time looked like a gust of wind would knock her down, said with blistering incredulity-

"Moreau?"

***

"Yes," Moreau said. "I look a little different, I...I know, but it's me! Are you not...are you not happy to see me?"

"No," Dimitrescu said. "I could never be happy to see you, you...you misshapen wretch, what have you done to my castle?"

She advanced on the thing at the top of the stairs, lifting her talons, pure fury in her eyes. "You've spread your foul rot and filth over my home! You've stolen what is rightfully mine! You've desecrated the tombs of my daughters!"

"Dimitrescu," Rose said, holding out her hand. "Don't- this isn't...this argument isn't worth it right now-"

"You dare," Dimitrescu screamed, drowning out Rose. "You dare to make a mockery of my castle!"

Rose glanced over at Donna, who'd retreated back toward the angel statues. There was another door there, stout and metal. Maybe they could get through it, if all this went to shit, if Lady Dimitrescu attacked Moreau.

But shadows rose from the slime- robed figures, like the girl with the shaved head, who'd gone to stand by the mass of flesh Moreau had become, one hand set lightly on his side, just over a set of gills. The others- worshippers? Devotees? Moreau-cultists?- all held weapons, ancient, corroded broadswords and battle-axes and maces, probably scavenged from the guts of Castle Dimitrescu when Moreau had taken it over.

Rose's hands were slick with sweat on her own sword, her mouth dry as she turned, looking for another way out, some way there wouldn't be a fight, but there was nothing.

They were surrounded.

"You...you aren't the queen bee here anymore, Alcina," Moreau said, from a different orifice. The voice from this one was lower-pitched, more slurred, vibrating in Rose's guts with a sinister note. "It's my turn now. You always hated me. All of you!"

One of the massive tentacles- its suckers barbed, Rose noticed with a white-hot jolt- heaved into the air, then slammed down, shaking the entire room.

Rose stumbled against Donna, clutching Angie, her too-quick breathing audible even through her veil.

"Every! Single! One of you!" Moreau shouted. "Always looking down on me, always making fun of me...I was the one who made the varcolac! I did! I figured it out! And I invited you here, and I was gonna be nice, I was gonna give you cheese and crackers and cookies and tea-"

"What do we do?" Donna whispered, her voice shaking.

"I don't- I don't know-" Rose hadn't planned for this. Salvatore Moreau was supposed to be dead, blown into sashimi and seagull food. How the hell had he survived? Had he regenerated like Dimitrescu? Not important questions right now.

Could they kill him? Maybe Dimitrescu could, but- but that stuff dribbling from him looked like acid, and Rose didn't know, with Dimitrescu's lack of fresh blood, how long her regeneration would hold against that. Without her, against the massive beast Moreau had mutated into, they wouldn't last a minute.

"Can you make him see stuff?" she stammered. "With your hallucinations?"

"No- there aren't any flowers- and it might just make this worse-"

There came the wet sound of blades in flesh; Dimitrescu had thrown herself at Moreau, tearing into the closest part of him she could reach, a blinding storm of blades and anger, snapping black hair and pale flesh and eyes ablaze.

Not for long.

Tentacles lifted, whipping through the air and slapping wetly against her, the ropy masses swiftly winding round her limbs and torso. She roared and slashed out, carving great, pale gouges into them, but they kept coming, and coming.

A tentacle snagged one wrist, then the other, wrenching Dimitrescu's arms straight out to either side. Her muscles bulged, veins standing out against her skin, but she was held in place, completely immobilized.

Donna screamed. Rose whirled as tentacles lashed around her, too.

"Donna," she gasped.

"Go-" Donna shoved her backward as a tentacle struck out, aimed to close around her own wrist. Rose sliced it in half; the pieces tumbled to the ground, splatting into goo on impact.

She dodged another tentacle, another, then tore her hand through the air, summoning a seething mass of mold around her that kept back the worst of Moreau's onslaught. She clenched her teeth against the strain, like supporting a weight over her head; sweat beaded on her forehead, her whole body shaking.

She couldn't hold this for long.

"Moreau!" she yelled. "Moreau, stop! We aren't here to hurt you-"

"Everyone says that," Moreau rumbled, somewhere in her periphery. His slime slithered toward the distant, painted ceiling, closing over the tangle of classical figures, transforming the entire castle hall into a cage of goo and bizarre aquatic growths. Acid seared down Rose's throat with each ragged inhale. White spots swam in her vision.

"Everyone always comes to hurt me," Moreau went on. "Always. Always. Mother said she needed weapons but she was lying, she just wanted...you. Her special child. And she was gonna hurt us all to get you. Ethan...Ethan wasn't ever meant to...he was supposed to be trapped, I was gonna eat him up and then he wouldn't hurt anything anymore-"

"He got out, right?" The strain was unbearable; red crackled in the corners of her eyes, muscles screaming for release. "He got out and he hurt you too?"

"I only wanted to do what Mother said. To protect the flask! But I wasn't important. I...I should have died rather than let her down-"

"No, no," Rose said quickly. "No, you deserved to survive, to...come back, look at all this you made- you were so smart to keep yourself safe in here so the lycans couldn't get you and all these people you helped-"

"And now you." This was the deepest voice yet, a subsonic rumble that ached in the back of Rose's teeth. There came the slick crackle of tearing flesh, and to Rose's horror, a split opened down Moreau's front, widening as she watched with wide eyes into- oh, god, into a mouth. A sawblade tangle of sharp teeth glistened within, broken-glass teeth, tiger shark teeth, dripping with acid and saliva, going down and down the maw forever.

"Mother's special girl," Moreau went on, a mocking twist darkening his childlike tone. "You came back to be like your nasty father. With my family, making fun of me, saying I don't deserve anything."

"No!" This time the word was a scream. Her whole body was on fire; she had seconds, if that. "Moreau, I came back to help you, to help you all, to save everything that was lost all those years ago- I just want to save you-"

"Liar!" Moreau howled. "Just! Like! Mother!"

The tentacles crashed in. Rose had no time to protest, no time to react, no time to cut herself free with her sword before a tidal wave of goo cascaded over her, sweeping her under and in, straight into the toothy maw of the monster itself.

#saints of warding #re8 fanfiction #re8 fic #rosemary winters #karl heisenberg #alcina dimitrescu #donna beneviento #angie beneviento #salvatore moreau #mother miranda #lady dimitrescu #resident evil village oc #resident evil village #resident evil #chapter 15

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tanjir0se · 9 months

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As the World Caves In--Part 1 of 2

Pairings: Rengiyuu Words: 2.3k/? Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Everybody Lives AU Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Canon-typical Violence, Medical Procedures, Blood

It felt like he was in a dream. No, a nightmare. Any moment now he’d wake up screaming, heart pounding in his ears until it settled back to a normal pace. Any moment now he’d be back in the mansion gardens with Rengoku by his side, wisteria on the breeze, warm from the sun and the sound of Rengoku’s laughter. All he could hear now was his own heartbeat, all he could smell was the sharp copper scent of blood. His entire field of view had gone red.

Summary: Giyuu was fortunate enough to be on a mission just South of the Mugen Train crash and the site of Rengoku's battle with Akaza. Now he's all that stands between Kyojuro and death.

Thank you to @babykirara for the amazing header she made for me that I can't stop using to decorate my various putting of Giyuu in Situations

UPDATE: read part 2 here!

Giyuu rarely put much thought into where Rengoku was headed on his missions. Being a Hashira seemed as easy for him as breathing, swordplay coming as naturally as the ease of his conversations. As much as he missed their walks in the gardens, their one-sided conversations, the hot flush on his face while they sparred in the training grounds, the idea of Rengoku facing genuine danger was foreign to him.

As for himself, quite a few times Giyuu had awoken in the Butterfly mansion, bandaged and bleeding and bruised, always with Rengoku waiting by his side. He’d chide him for his recklessness, extol his strength as a demon slayer, and offer to help him train during his recovery. Their positions had yet to be reversed. Rengoku was…well, he was Rengoku. The flame Hashira would return with a few scrapes here and there, but they were easily outshined by his bright-as-the-sun smile. It was easy to ignore them.

Until it wasn’t. Until that day.

Giyuu sheathed his sword and exhaled, watching the demon he’d just decapitated smolder apart, ashes drifting into the early dawn sky. He’d been on the case of a demon at a local theater for a few days when he’d received a raven with a letter from Rengoku, telling him all about the latest mission he’d been assigned to: investigating the Mugen Train. It never took very long for Rengoku to return from whatever mission he was on, so Giyuu figured he’d hear all about it once they both returned to the mansion.

The piercing cry of his crow nearly made him jump as he was turning to find his way back to the mansion.

“Backup urgently requested! Backup urgently requested!” His crow was screeching as it fluttered down onto his shoulder. “Flame Hashira Kyojuro Rengoku requires urgent assistance in his pursuit of the Mugen Train demon!” Giyu leaned slightly away from its shrill voice directly in his ear. His eyes widened.

“What happened?” He gripped his sword hilt with white knuckles. Rengoku never requested assistance, not in all the years they’d been Hashira together. His stomach clenched tightly, nearly painfully, Giyuu readied himself to run.

“The train has crashed just north from here! An upper rank demon has appeared in the fight!” The crow reported.

All at once Giyuu couldn’t breathe. His throat clamped shut, chest heaving, and all he could manage through the strangling grip of fear was three words: “Take me there.”

***

Giyuu could recall only one time he’d run so fast in all his life: nearly twenty years ago. Cold air had torn through his lungs but he hadn’t slowed. He couldn’t. The more distance he put between himself and the strangers he’d been left in the care of, the more likely he’d find someone who would listen to him. He couldn’t save his sister, but maybe if he kept running he’d find someone who could help him save someone else. The last thing he remembered that night was collapsing into the snow, exhausted, throat raw. In his exhaustion he remembered seeing her standing there, watching him with her sad eyes and raven-black hair. That was his last image of her.

He couldn’t save his sister. All his life he’d never forgotten that helplessness. Now, following his crow toward the ever-growing plumes of smoke on the horizon, he felt it growing in his gut again. Not him. Anyone but him.

The sun was beginning to rise as Giyuu came to the scene of the train crash. Aside from the murmur of survivors helping each other out of the wreckage, and the distant crackle of flames, it was eerily quiet. Whatever upper rank demon had been here would be long gone. The impending sunlight made sure of that. Perhaps Rengoku had simply defeated the upper rank before the sun rose, leaving the battlefield in silence. He certainly wouldn’t put it past him. And hoping was easier at the moment than despair.

A surprising streak of pink caught his eye in the shadow of one of the train cars. Giyuu jogged toward it, picking up his speed when he realized what it was.

“Nezuko.” he said stupidly, finding it to be the only thing he could think to say. The blond-haired kid that was always hanging around her was kneeling beside her with Tanjiro’s box open, ushering her inside. She looked up when she saw him, her magenta eyes glistening. The blond followed her gaze and gasped when he saw him.

“Mr. Tomioka--”

“Where is Rengoku?” Giyuu interrupted. The blond just shook his head at him, eyes wide with fear, and pointed toward a grove of trees on the far end of the wreckage. Giyuu wordlessly followed his direction.

He heard the sobs before he saw anything. The sky was thick and hazy with clearing smoke. Just over a small ridge he found a clearing before a large grove of trees. The ground was scarred with slashes from a sword, footprints in a fighting stance, trenches were a body had been blown back by some great force. The dirt glistened with blood, for a moment it was the only color in the gray-brown haze of smoke and dirt kicked up from battle.

Giyuu stumbled down the hill into the smoke. The sobs were getting louder, his chest was getting tighter, he doubted he’d be able to breathe even without the caustic cloud around him. After a few seconds of searching, Giyuu’s eyes fell on a flash of yellow, bright as the sun. Rengoku.

“Kyojuro!” Giyuu managed. Hope and relief carried him forward through the smoke, but he slowed once again when the full scene appeared before him.

Tanjiro, on his hands and knees, looked up at him as he appeared through the smog. Tears cut sharply through the grime and blood on his face. Behind him was the kid with the boar’s head, trembling violently, unable to look at him. Kneeling before them both was Rengoku himself.

“Kyojuro.” Giyuu said, ignoring the look on Tanjiro’s face, the blood, the smoke. Rengoku didn’t move. His haori spilled out around him, soaked from the waist down with a halo of blood. There was a long beat of silence before Kyojuro abruptly, grotesquely slumped backwards, deadweight, hitting the dirty ground with a loud but hollow thump.

“Mr. Rengoku…!” Tanjiro whimpered. “Please, Mr. Tomioka, help him!”

Giyuu stared, disbelieving. It felt like he was in a dream. No, a nightmare. Any moment now he’d wake up screaming, heart pounding in his ears until it settled back to a normal pace. Any moment now he’d be back in the mansion gardens with Rengoku by his side, wisteria on the breeze, warm from the sun and the sound of Rengoku’s laughter. All he could hear now was his own heartbeat, all he could smell was the sharp copper scent of blood. His entire field of view had gone red.

“Mr. Tomioka!” Tanjiro was shouting. Giyuu wasn’t listening. He was staring instead at his friend’s blasted-open abdomen, an ocean of red pouring out from the mangled flesh beneath his torn uniform. Something snapped inside of him, the fragile scaffolding he’d built around his heart shattering into pieces like Kyojuro’s body. Not him, not him, not him--

“Tomioka!” Tanjiro screamed. Giyuu blinked and found Tanjiro had stood and was tugging desperately on his haori. “Please!”

Giyuu looked at Tanjiro and inhaled. There he stood between his friend and oblivion. If he did nothing else for the rest of his life, he would reach into that oblivion and yank him back. Hands shaking, Giyuu finally moved.

Quickly but gently, Giyuu took Kyojuro--Kyojuro’s body?--by the shoulders and lowered him to the ground, where he hit the blood soaked dirt with a heavy and sickening squelching sound. Long ago, when his hands were too small to hold a sword and his body too weak to swing it, Urokodaki had made sure to teach him how to force a heart to beat, how to fill another’s lungs with air. How to reach into oblivion and yank someone back.

Back then he’d warned him it didn't often work, even when done perfectly. Back then he’d seen that firsthand, as he’d uselessly pumped the heart of a lifeless body crushed beyond repair. Giyuu remembered the blood soaking through the patterned robe and splattering onto the crushed kitsune mask beside him.

He couldn’t save his sister. He couldn’t save Sabito and Makomo. Kyojuro now stared sightlessly up at him, his eyes half-open and splattered with blood. Giyuu knelt beside him, placed the heel of his pale hand against Kyojuro’s ruined chest, and pushed down with everything he had.

Immediately he heard the crack of ribs snapping, felt them collapse inward like twigs beneath his hands. Giyuu sucked in a surprised and disgusted breath but continued anyway. He had to. He counted in his head the best he could but kept losing count as he watched blood flow up from Kyojuro’s chest and throat and onto his hands, soaking his uniform sleeves. Even counting took huge effort; all he could think about was his friend’s voice, his smile, the heat that came to his face whenever Kyojuro drew close to him.

1, 2, 3, 4–Ah, Giyuu! My friend, how nice to see you again!—6, 7, 8, 9–Hah! You always know how to make me laugh. I always enjoy your company.

Panting with effort, Giyuu found a rhythm, bending at the waist to throw his weight behind each artificial beat of Kyojuro’s heart. All those kind things Kyojuro had said to him and he’d never returned any of them. Not for lack of trying, and he knew Kyojuro understood…Each silent upward tilt of his lips, each time he drew a little closer, handed him something he was reaching for without him asking, remembered his order at their favorite Udon cart—I love you I love you I love you—but he’d never actually said it.

It wasn’t as easy for him as it seemed to be for Kyojuro. That strangling grip around his throat seemed to never lessen, and the harder he tried to summon the words to express what he felt, the further they retreated back into his. The tighter the grip became. He swallowed.

“Come on, Kyo,” he spat through his teeth and the tightness in his throat, far beyond caring if the boys heard or noticed his use of the nickname he’d never said aloud. “Please…”

When he reached thirty, or felt like he’d gotten to thirty, Giyuu stopped and leaned down, tilting Kyojuro’s chin upward, pressing his lips to Kyojuro’s and breathing into him. Kyojuro’s chest—what was left of it—rose with the breath and fell again. The air escaped his cold lips in a loose gurgle. Another borrowed breath, another rush of blood, another long and frightening silence. Giyuu came away tasting blood and resumed pumping his chest again.

He lost track of time. For that matter he’d lost track of space, too. The earth had fallen out beneath them. In that moment the only thing that could pull him back into orbit again was Kyojuro. He didn’t realize that the Kakushi had arrived and we’re taking over, not even when Tanjiro’s voice managed to reach him again.

“Mr. Tomioka…?” He was calling. Giyuu ignored him and continued. His chest was beginning to heave with coming sobs; they became so intense he could barely move or breathe. Still he continued. Someone else was calling his name. Still he continued. I love you I love you I love you.

“Master Tomioka, we will take over from here.” A voice said. His shaking hands were so soaked with blood they were beginning to slide off of their position on Kyojuro’s sternum. “M-master Tomioka, please…” Someone was pulling on his arm, pulling him back and away from Kyojuro. Giyuu set his jaw and tried to continue but the hands continued pulling into finally they managed to get him off of Kyojuro, though his eyes did not move from Kyojuro’s face.

“That’s enough, Mr. Tomioka.” Tanjiro was saying. The moment Giyuu stopped yanking against him in an attempt to get back to Kyojuro, Tanjiro released his arm and let him watch while Kakushi descended upon the scene, his vision blurred with tears he hadn’t realized had been falling from his eyes. The Kakushi swarmed him as they took over, their training clearly much fresher than Giyuu’s.

His breath caught in his throat as it ripped in and out of his shattered chest. Giyuu felt faint, he felt his own heart stop, ears ringing as if he’d just been in an explosion. His own ribs were imploding too. The cliff edge of oblivion stretched out before him, the reality of the rest of his life without Kyojuro’s smile. It was everything he could do to keep himself upright.

Through the haze he heard one of the Kakushi speaking.

“I have a pulse!”

Giyuu blinked. To his shock, Kyojuro’s chest was moving slowly up and down even without his intervention. Each exhale brought a small flow of blood from Kyojuro’s mouth, but he was breathing. His heart, somehow, was beating. The world resumed its spin.

“You did it, Mr. Tomioka!” Tanjiro whispered in disbelief. He watched them load Rengoku onto a stretcher and take off toward the medical camp they were still setting up. Tanjiro pushed himself into a standing position, wavered, tried to remember how to breathe. Beside him, Tomioka remained motionless on his knees, his face even paler than usual. “Mr. Tomioka?”

He was surprised into silence as Tomioka abruptly bent forward and vomited onto the bloody ground. Tanjiro’s hands hovered uselessly over Tomioka’s back, wanting to comfort him, too frightened to touch him, too worried he might vomit, too. Before he could decide what to do Tomioka jerked upright again and stood, shaking, blood dripping from his fingers.

Giyuu was not a praying man. It had never worked for him before. But for one moment, exhausted and faint and feeling the world tilt as it attempted to find its orbit again, Giyuu allowed himself to offer not a prayer, but a bargain.

If you let him live, I swear, I’ll tell him everything.

#DIDN'T I TELL YOU ALL I WAS GOING INSANE #WELCOME TO FUCKING WEDNESDAY BAAAABES #sorry babykirara i keep tagging you in my nonsense but your headers are so pretty and i Must put my Man in Situations #rengiyuu #kny #demon slayer #rengoku #giyu #AT THE RATE MY INSANITY IS MOVING PART TWO COULD ALSO BE DONE TODAY LMFAO #is it good? no. did i proofread it? also no. did i even have a clear concept of where i was going with this? no.#but! it's done and it sure is unhinged #enjoy my descent into madness #and as always...welcome to fucking wednesday

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refugiodafada · 1 year

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A Shadow In The Ember (Flesh and Fire series) headers

like if you save. © refugiodafada

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warriorowan · 4 months

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hey guys! i would like to ask whenever you make a request to be specific with how you want me to make it. like what highlight color you want, if messy or quotes header or both. this helps me a lot ♥

summary

couples

adamolive

alexava

alizehcyrus

averyjameson

axelrooney

christianstella

daemyra

danilachlan

dianadallas

evajacks

firstprince/alexhenry

gillow

hadleyelijah

irisroman

joeyaoife

jonathankennedy

knoxmemphis

knoxnaomi

konelena

lanalogan

maggiebrooks

manorian

maybellwesley

naominicholas

nathanstassie

nessamiko

percabeth

pipravi

rafepenny

rhysbridget

romajuliette

rowaelin

rowaelin pt.2

theowinter

vadcorvina

vip series

warnette

warnette pt.2

willacade

xadenviolet

rinaverse

jeremycecily

landonmia

nikobran

reinaasher

ronanteal

xanderkim

xanderkim pt.2

general

acotar series

a court of silver flames

book lovers

carrie soto is back

daisy jones and the six

from blood and ash

heartless

heartstopper

it ends with us

it ends with us pt.2

kingdom of the wicked

scythe

stormlight archive

the cruel prince

the infernal devices

the invisible life of addie larue

the unbecoming of mara dyer

characters

aelin galathynius

cardan greenbriar

cassian

feyre archeron

jude duarte

lucien vanserra

maven calore

nesta archeron

nikolai lantsov

victor vale

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onceuponastory · 2 years

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normal - steve kemp x reader: chapter nine: survival instinct

“In the land of Gods and Monsters I was an angel living in the garden of evil” - gods and monsters by lana del rey

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Kemp x Female!Reader Chapter Warnings: As always, 18+ ONLY PLEASE. This chapter has mentions of death, murder, stabbing, cannibalism, serial killers, kidnapping, manipulation, a lot of blood, graphic descriptions of violence and injuries, and weapons (specifically knives). Also a tiny smut mention. Once again, everything Steve does to people in Fresh is a warning. And of course, Steve Kemp and Nick Fowler, because those two are warnings all on their own, let alone together. As always, if I miss any triggers, please let me know. Notes: The penultimate chapter is here! Can you believe we’re on number nine already? I’m sorry it took me so long to write it, but I hope you like it. I’m not sure if my taglist was notified about chapter eight, so if you haven’t read it, please read that first. This chapter is not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

Also, hope you all like the new header I made!

As soon as he’s finished reading the note, Steve’s blood boils, and he throws the letter down angrily. “Shit!” He hisses, angrily kicking one of the kitchen cabinets. He’s going to kill that bastard. Yet, despite his anger, an overwhelming feeling of guilt overtakes Steve. If he hadn’t been so angry and listened to Y/N’s worries, or even went back to the house with her, this wouldn’t have happened.

And now, she might be dead. But even if she’s not dead, what if she hates him? What if she resents him for failing to keep her safe? That possibility tears him up inside. Y/N’s the love of his life. He can’t lose her. Honestly, Steve’s still confused by his seeming complete change of heart and personality for Y/N. After all, he used to relish in terrorising her, just like everyone else he’d ever met. Yet Y/N was different from everyone else. From their first meeting, he sensed some kind of connection, and strange feelings he had towards her.

They were unexplainable at first, but now he knows it was the first sign of him falling in love with her. That’s partly why he was so unwelcoming to Y/N at first, hoping that scaring her away would stop his strange feelings for her, the one woman he could never have. The person who would always see him as a monster. In fact, keeping her away only made the feelings stronger. When he finally admitted it to himself, he felt so much better. Even though he knew he couldn’t tell Y/N, not wanting to put her at risk. After all, the whole reason he took her when he broke out was to keep her safe. Safe from people like Nick Fowler. And now he’s completely failed, and might lose the one person he loves the most in this world. He can’t let that happen. He has to save her.

Grabbing the letter, Steve looks over it once more. ‘Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust. When we all fall asleep, where do we go?’ Steve knows where Nick means immediately and he quickly rushes out of the door. “Just hold on Y/N. I’m coming.”

Pain. That’s all Y/N recognises. Pain. The back of her head is throbbing, and her entire body feels like it's screaming at her. Everything hurts, even breathing. As Y/N winces in pain, she can taste something metallic in her mouth. It doesn’t take her long to realise what the taste is. God, Nick must’ve hit her pretty hard. A strange moaning noise fills the air, and Y/N doesn’t even want to think about where it’s coming from. She just wants to leave and go back to Steve.

Steve. God knows what he’s thinking right now. No doubt he thinks she’s fled and gone to the FBI and CIA to spill everything. “No. He won’t think that. He can’t. Steve loves me, and I love him. He has to know that.” She thinks. Their argument flashes through her mind again, and Y/N sniffs. The last thing she and Steve did was argue. And now she might never be able to tell him she’s sorry. Steve’s pained face haunts her memory. He looked so hurt by her words. Not that she blames him, though. After all, she basically told him she hates being with him. Or at least, that’s how it came across. Hopefully, he heard her screaming or realised something was wrong, and he’s looking for her.

Even though at this rate, Y/N’s not holding out much hope. So, it’s time to save herself. Using all her strength just to lift her body off the floor, Y/N tries to sit up, clenching her teeth to get through the pain. Immediately, she regrets her decision as the pain in her head amplifies, and she becomes even dizzier. Yet despite how weak she feels, Y/N knows she has to push through, because her survival depends on it. She tries to use her hands to steady herself, but she can’t move them. She wiggles her wrists, feeling the hard plastic of a zip tie digging into her skin. Shit.

Still, she tries to push herself up, but her body is too weak to support itself, and it drops. She lands with a dull thud against the floorboards, the sharp pain in her side intensifying as her body hits the ground. A moan of pain escapes her lips, and she sobs. So that’s where the moaning noise was coming from. Her. “Please…someone. Help me.” She whimpers, too weak to even try to scream. Her words come out as muffled, and Y/N realises that Nick’s probably stuck tape over her mouth. The building is silent, aside from the noise of the storm still raging outside. Would anyone even hear her scream? Wincing, Y/N looks around wherever she’s being kept.

She realises where she is almost immediately. There are two stained glass windows, one across from her and one a few feet away. Their faces stare down at her, as if they’re judging her. Nick brought her to the church, and by the looks of it, stuffed her in a cramped back room somewhere. The room is musty and dirty, and Y/N realises it’s definitely not been used in a while. So she’s going to die in an abandoned church. Great. In a way, the room’s musty smell reminds her of the cabin. But at least that place was a home for her, somewhere for her to live her dream life with Steve, even if only for a little while. This place is a nightmare, rather than a dream.

Yet strangely, the sight of the stained glass windows and their judgemental faces almost makes Y/N laugh. After all, her parents and co-workers always thought her job made her a monster. And now, Nick’s brought her to be judged before she dies. Even though Y/N doesn’t want to die, deep down, a part of her wonders if it’s what she deserves. Dying all alone, with everyone she knows hating her.

She squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that if she tries hard enough, she’ll wake up, everything will be over, and Nick Fowler will be far away from her. She knows it’s useless to try, but it’s not like she has any other options. It’s like what she used to do when she was a child: hiding under her blankets and singing to herself in the hopes it made the monsters go away. Her parents told her to do that, actually. She knows now that they did it so they didn’t have to deal with her waking them up every night, but back then, she thought the power of her singing could save herself. Of course, the real world doesn’t work like that. In the real world, monsters are a lot less easy to spot. She knows that for sure now.

Another memory enters her mind then, one from a few days ago. Steve had found an old radio in the cabin, and with the help of George, got it working. Steve pulled her up to dance as the room filled with music.

“Oh no. I can’t dance. Trust me, you do not want me stepping on your toes Steve.” Y/N laughed, but Steve pulled her close, grinning as he twirled her under his arm.

“Y/N. I have been waiting months to hold you and dance with you like this.” He whispered, peppering kisses all over her which made her giggle. “And I’m not letting go of you yet.” As the music played on, Y/N and Steve danced together, safe and comfortable in the other’s embrace. Soon, the vocals of Ella Fitzgerald played, and Steve smiled. “Come on, sing with me.”

“Absolutely not. I can’t sing either.” Steve laughed.

“That’s such a lie. I heard you in the shower.” Still though, Y/N shook her head, and Steve sighed. “Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper…’I love you’” Steve mouthed, kissing her once more.

Y/N would give anything to return to that moment. To be safe with the one she loves, dancing to Ella Fitzgerald in their new home together.

With a groan, Y/N rolls over onto her back. Even though she knows it doesn’t work, it still doesn’t hurt to try singing again. And besides, at least she can close her eyes and imagine she’s singing to Steve. And at least she’ll die doing something that brings her comfort. Taking a shaky breath, Y/N begins to sing. “Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you’…birds singing in the sycamore trees…dream a little dream of me.”

As time goes on, Y/N drifts in and out of daydreams. Her pain has subsided a little, but that doesn’t mean that this nightmare is over. As she lays there, thinking over the good times she had in her life (mostly with Steve), she wonders what’s going to happen to her. Maybe she’s just going to be left here to die slowly from all her injuries. Or maybe Nick is coming back to finish the job.

Whatever it is, by this point, she just hopes that it’s over quickly.

“Look who’s awake!” Nick’s voice sounds, and a chill fills Y/N’s blood. Speak of the Devil. Immediately, her mind goes back through all her training and what she’s supposed to do in this sort of situation. And to think she used to be terrified it would be Steve doing this to her in a situation like this, and thought Nick would be the one to save her. If only she knew back then how wrong she was. Steve has left marks of love and protection on her, and Nick has only caused pain and destruction. Y/N casts her mind back to the times she spent with Steve, and to the love they shared. Finally, after everything life put her through: all the rejection and the pain, she was happy.

And now, she’s about to lose it all.

Nick peers down at her, the fear on Y/N’s face making him smirk. “Did you sleep well, sweetheart?” He mocks, knowing how much she hates hearing that nickname from him. The more he calls her that, the more Y/N wants to punch him. “I’d say I was sorry about all…this.” He sighs. “But I’m not though. This is what you get when you don’t do what you’re told, Y/N. You should’ve kept your nose out of this.”

Y/N stares up at Nick, using her eyes to plead with him to let her go…or at least to just make things easier for her. “You know, even though I wish you kept your nose out of things, for an FBI Agent, I’m surprised it took you so long to realise that I was behind everything. You were so sure you’d stop me, and thought you were better than me because you discovered my secret.” He leans in close, grinning maniacally. “Little did you know, you hadn’t even scratched the surface of just how bad I am. All you cared about was a few little lies on my file. Bet you’re regretting it now, aren’t you?” He asks, and Y/N nods.

“Just play into his narcissism. Don’t fight him. Fight it, and we die.” She tells herself. Even though she knows she’s going to die anyway at this point. People like Nick don’t leave witnesses.

“But look where we are now, and how everything has changed. It all ends here, Y/N. And I win.” He laughs. “Oh, don’t worry, though. Steve’s coming to save you. He should be here soon, actually.” Immediately, Y/N’s heart rate increases. Steve’s coming? Here? Even though she knows it’s foolish, hope fills her body. She might actually be okay after all. Seeing the optimism on her face, Nick chuckles. “Yes. I knew it was no fun without him here, and besides, you’re both important to my endgame, so I left him a note telling him where we are. Not that I made things easy, though.” He sighs. “He really loves you, you know? It’s so…pitiful. He could’ve been so great, so evil, but he just had to let love get in the way.”

Y/N ignores Nick’s comments, too happy and comforted by Steve coming to save her. He does love her. They’re going to stop Nick, and then they’ll live happily together. Just like they deserve. And then, something hits her in the side. Y/N screams as more pain shoots across her body. Although the tape across her mouth muffles it, the sound is still loud, and Nick laughs. “Unfortunately, though, just because he’s coming to save you doesn’t mean that you two are getting out of here alive.” Another kick lands on her body, and another moan of pain follows from Y/N. “And it doesn’t mean that you have to be in a good condition for him either.” Another kick lands, and Y/N whimpers in pain, her body shaking. “God, I love that noise.” Nick grins. “Especially when it comes from you.”

A Few Days Earlier.

“You’re saying…what?” Y/N’s boss frowns incredulously.

“That there’s something shady going on with Nick Fowler.” The man who almost bumped into Nick replies. “He got a text, headed to the bathrooms and then shot out of here like a bat out of hell. I don’t know what it was about. It could be nothing, but given everything that’s been going on recently, he might have a lead and is holding out on us.”

Y/N’s boss sighs, massaging his temples with his finger. “I see. Thank you.” The man nods and leaves the room. “Fuck. Two missing agents, an escaped cannibal and now one agent might be dirty. That’s just what I need.”

After raining down a few more blows, Nick stands over Y/N, watching as she whimpers and writhes around in pain. Then, the muffled sound of a creaking door echoes across the building, and Y/N’s heart almost stops. “Okay Fowler, I’m here. I came alone, just like you said.” Steve calls. “Now, where is she?” Y/N almost starts crying. Steve. He’s here. Nick was right, he’s come to save her. Immediately, a look of dark excitement takes over Nick’s face. One that chills her blood. Disregarding the tape on her mouth, Y/N tries to scream a warning out to Steve, hoping he hears her. Nick harshly grabs her arm, yanking her up and holding her at his side. His tight grip on her arm makes Y/N cry out in pain.

“Now, now, there’s no need for that.” He tuts. “I’ll have to kill you both sooner than expected if you keep acting up. And I’ll kill you before you can say goodbye to your boyfriend properly. Do you want that?” He asks, and Y/N shakes her head, her tears and whimpering now just a sniffle. Nick grins. “Good girl. Just do as you’re told, and everything will be fine. For now.”

Nick opens the door and walks into the main room of the church. Y/N registers something, probably a knife, being held at her throat, and she tries to hide her tears, knowing that it’ll give Nick even more of a sick gratification. Mostly, though, it’s because she knows that the second Steve hears her cries, he’s going to hurt Nick. And whilst she wants him to save her more than anything, and she knows Steve is more than capable of handling himself, Y/N also knows that Nick is unpredictable, and he’s the one in control here. The last thing she wants is for Steve to end up dead.

Y/N and Nick round the corner, and come face to face with Steve. “Hello Steve. How nice of you to join us.” Nick smirks. Steve’s face drops.

“Nick. Let her go.” He orders, his voice the lowest and the most threatening Y/N has ever heard it. “This is between me and you. You can do whatever you want with me. Just don’t hurt Y/N. This has nothing to do with her.”

In response, Nick laughs. “Oh, look at you trying to play at being the hero like that’ll work. Like you’re not as much of a psycho as I am. What, you want me to let her go so she can run away and tell everyone the truth, and then I’ll have the whole of the FBI and CIA breathing down my back?” Nick shakes his head. “I don’t think so. And besides, Y/N has everything to do with this. After all, she’s the one who brought us all together!”

Y/N glances over at Steve. His face seethes with a rage she’s never seen from him before, and both his fists clench angrily. “You really have no idea who I am, do you, Steve?” Nick asks.

“An annoying piece of shit?” Nick laughs sardonically.

“Not that. When you first started out with your little…operation, do you remember hearing about the one at the top? The one everyone wanted to be, and the one everyone feared? You’re looking at him.” As a look of confusion dawns on Steve’s face, Nick grins. “Yup. Y/N’s little theory was right after all. Even down to the bite marks. I was you before you even existed, Steve.” He chuckles, before continuing. “We’re so alike, you and I. Except I don’t get caught, despite the attempts of both you and Y/N.” Steve looks back over at Y/N, an apologetic look on his face. Y/N nods, hoping he understands she forgives him for not believing him. “You were determined back then. I’ll give you that. But you were also a pest, who threatened my spot at the top. Just like your little girlfriend here.” Nick’s voice becomes angrier, and he steps forward, dragging Y/N with him.

“Nick, listen to me-” Steve tries to argue back, but Nick ignores him and continues his tirade.

“And that’s why you had to go. Just one call from a ‘concerned business partner’...and the problem went away.” The realisation strikes both Y/N and Steve immediately.

“That was you?!” Steve gasps. Nick nods.

“I’ve been working my whole fucking life to be at the top, and if you think I’m letting some nobody agent and failure like you take it away from me….” Nick hisses, laughing breathlessly. “Then you have another thing coming.” He looks between them both, his smile manic. The look he gives them both terrifies Y/N even more. She’s never seen him this unhinged before. “And that’s why we’re all here now. Because I have two problems that I need to solve.” As Nick grips Y/N’s body even tighter as she tries to squirm out of his grasp, she yelps in pain again.

“Nick, she was just doing her job. I’m the one you have the issue with. So again, let her go.” Steve orders. Nick huffs, shaking his head.

“How many times do I have to tell you-” He grunts angrily. However, Nick stops himself mid rant, and he regards Steve with a frown. “You know something, Steve? For how much you like to pretend that you’re the one in control, and that you’re the true monster…you really are so weak. You could’ve been great, like me. But you let yourself get clouded by love, and now you’re throwing everything away for her. Is that really what you want, Steve? To choose Y/N over all the fame and fortune?”

Y/N can see that Nick’s words are impacting Steve, as he takes time to choose his next response. As the time it takes Steve to reply increases, Y/N becomes more and more worried about what he’ll say. She knows he loves her, and he came back to save her, but what if she’s not enough anymore? What if he goes with Nick? After all, the first few times they interacted, Steve was arrogant, and he definitely enjoyed tormenting and manipulating her. When she challenged his character, he was furious with her. Of course, running a cannibalistic enterprise isn’t exactly Y/N’s idea of a dream life, but she can see why it would be so appealing to Steve, especially after being deprived of it for so long.

Suddenly, Steve speaks, cutting into Y/N’s worries. “You’re right. It would be nice to be at the top again, and to have all my notoriety and money back does sound appealing.” Steve admits. “But I can get that back later. I love Y/N, and I brought her here so we could finally be together, and so I could protect her from people like you. So I choose her.” Y/N breathes a sigh of relief, and Nick scoffs.

“Well, it’s your choice.” He shrugs. “Just as long as you remember, I kissed her first…and fucked her first, too.” Nick’s words set off Steve’s anger, and he charges forward, his fist held out for a punch. Before Steve can strike Nick, however, Nick presses the knife deeper into Y/N’s neck, and she lets out another cry. “I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Nick smirks, and Steve backs off. “Good boy. You know, when you two ran away, I was so angry. But now that we’re all together again, I can finally enact my new plan.”

“What are you going to do to us?” Steve asks. “Kill Y/N and take me back to prison? Because I swear to you, Fowler, I will fight and argue until my dying breath about what you are until someone listens.”

“Oh no, you’re both going to die. Make no mistake about that. I can’t have any loose ends, I’m afraid. And poor Y/N will be the first to go.” Nick removes the knife from her neck and begins tracing it down her cheek, laughing as she whimpers in fear. “You know, I really love that noise, don’t you, Steve?” Y/N’s eyes look over to Steve, watching as he seethes with rage. “And I’ll make sure you hear it all.” Nick promises. Y/N and Steve’s eyes meet once again.

“I’m sorry.” Steve mouths. Her eyes welling up again, Y/N nods. And then, an idea enters her mind. Gesturing her head towards Steve, Y/N then moves her head towards Nick slightly. She does it a few times until he realises what she means. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Steve nodding. Another, small breath of relief escapes Y/N’s lips.

Hopefully, this plan works.

“Poor Y/N, kidnapped and murdered so brutally by the cannibal who she thought loved her. Just don’t ask which cannibal it was, though.” Nick laughs, the sensation of his hot breath against Y/N’s neck making her squirm. “But not to worry, because Nick Fowler saved the day and killed him too. In self defence, of course. It’s just a shame he couldn’t save Y/N too. At least the heroic welcome will be worth it.” Nick grins.

Quickly, whilst Nick is distracted looking at Y/N, Steve rushes forward once more, tackling him to the ground. The force makes Nick release his grasp on Y/N, and the knife clatters to the floor. Immediately, Steve unleashes his anger on Nick. The pair roll around on the floor as the air is full of the sound of moans and punches. Y/N goes towards them to help Steve, even though there’s not much she can do with her hands tied. As soon as she takes a few steps forward, she falls to the floor. She doesn’t even take time to register the pain shooting throughout her legs, and instead begins crawling away from the scene and towards safety as best she can.

And then, something glinting on the floor stops her. The knife. Her and Steve’s chance out of here. Whilst Nick is still distracted, she grabs it, disappearing behind the pews. Holding it in her hands, she tries to cut through the ties binding her wrist, hissing every so often as the blade pricks her skin instead of the hard plastic. The sounds of fighting and moaning continue to fill the air, and Y/N doesn’t even want to know who’s making that noise anymore. She just wants to get Steve and get out of here as soon as possible.

Once she’s finally freed herself, Y/N peels off the tape covering her mouth, taking a few deep breaths as she’s finally able to breathe properly again. Grabbing the knife, she stands up. Although she’s still a little unsteady on her feet, Y/N stalks towards Nick and Steve, the knife held in her outstretched hand.

“Nick!” she calls, the sound of her voice causing both men to stop and look at her. Both of their faces are bloody and bruised, and Nick is still gripping Steve’s arm. “Let him go. Now.” She orders. Nick smirks.

“Y/N, it’s okay. I’m okay. You should just get out of here and let me deal with him.” Y/N stays where she is, promising not to leave him. Nick looks between them both, grinning as an idea forms in his head.

“You know, Steve, I’m surprised you’re fighting so hard for her. Because you know what’s going to happen when this is all over, right?” Nick asks. “Your one true love over there is going to call her superiors, and your ass is going to get hauled back into jail again for another life sentence. This time in a maximum security prison, with no visitors.” Steve stops, frowning. “What? Do you think she wouldn’t? Oh please, don’t be so naïve. It’s what people like Y/N do. They save the world from monsters like you and I, and then they lock us up and throw away the key. You’re no different just because she supposedly loves you.”

“No. You’re lying. She wouldn’t.” Steve shakes his head. Yet, despite Steve’s attempts to seem controlled, something in his facial expression shifts, causing Nick to smirk.

“Oh, are you sure about that? Go on then. Ask her. See how much she actually trusts you.”

“Steve, come on. He’s trying to manipulate you. It’s what he does.” Y/N argues. “I trust you. I promise.” Despite her insistence, Steve looks conflicted. Strangely, though, he seems more upset than angry at the idea of Y/N’s betrayal. And that look tears her up inside.

“Just tell me the truth. Are you going to put me back in prison? After everything we’ve gone through? After I came back for you, and I chose you?” Steve asks, his voice softer and on the verge of cracking. Y/N’ frowns, wondering why the hell Steve’s choosing to listen to Nick Fowler right now, especially considering the bullshit he’s saying. However, her silence speaks volumes to Steve, and he gasps angrily. Still, she sees a look of hurt crossing his face, which tears her up inside. “No. No, no, no. If you think I’m setting foot in that fucking prison again, you have another thing coming.” He hisses. Nick lets go of Steve’s arm, and he chuckles.

“You know, I wanted to kill you both first, but this is just so much more entertaining. Tearing the star-crossed lovers apart.” Steve’s fist clenches angrily, and he turns back around.

“You better-” But Y/N gets to him first. Without another word, she drops the knife, walks up and rams her elbow into Nick’s face. It connects with his nose with a sick crack, and he swears, hissing in pain. Then, Y/N brings her fist back once more, connecting it with the side of Nick’s head. He tries to fight back, clawing against her face, but Y/N’s fury is too much for him, and she continues to strike him. After a few more punches, Nick collapses to the floor.

“That shut him up for once.” Y/N states.

Meanwhile, back in the FBI H.Q, Nick's contact sits in an interview room. He watches as Y/N’s boss circles him. “Tell us what you told Nick Fowler.” The contact says nothing, looking at Y/N’s boss with a smirk. “Come on. We all know you’ve been speaking to each other. No phone is untraceable.” Still, the contact is silent. Huffing, Y/N’s boss pulls out a file. “Kid, you’re looking at multiple charges here. It's just…we’re all wondering what a prestigious agent like Nick is doing fraternising with someone who has a criminal record as long as yours.” The contact scoffs, finally breaking his silence.

“Prestigious? Is that what he told you? You don’t know anything about what he’s truly like.” Y/N’s boss frowns.

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, I don’t think so! It doesn’t work like that. I’ll only tell my secrets if I get something out of it.”

“We planned for that. You’ll get a reduced sentence, but only if you tell us everything about your relationship to Nick Fowler.” The contact grins. “Do we have a deal?”

“I think we do.”

Meanwhile, Y/N and Steve watch as Nick sleeps, still out cold. “Okay, we should go while he’s knocked out.” Y/N orders. Yet, Steve doesn’t move. “Steve, what are you doing? Come on, let’s go!”

“Not before you tell me if you’re sending me to prison. Because I’m not leaving with you just so you can send me back there.” Huffing, Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Steve, do we really have to do this now? I don’t know what’s going to happen!” Despite her frustration though, Steve’s disbelief and distrust of her breaks her heart. Does he really think so little of her?

“Stop bullshitting me and just answer me!” Steve orders, the volume and tone of his voice making Y/N jump. “Am I going back to prison?” Y/N sighs.

“I don’t know! Probably! But it’s not like I’m going to have much of a choice, is it? They’re going to assume everything I say to save you is because I have Stockholm Syndrome or something.”

“So you’re not even going to fucking fight for me? Is that it?” Even though he’s still trying to put on a brave face, Y/N can tell there’s something more to it, and that Steve is more hurt than angry.

“I didn’t say that! What I did say, though, is that Nick’s just trying to manipulate you. Clearly, it’s working. Why are you listening to him anyway, after everything he’s done to us both?”

“Because!” Steve snaps. When he sees the look on Y/N’s face, his face falls, and he sighs sadly. “Because…I love you so much, and when I found out you were missing and Nick had you, it destroyed me. I’m supposed to protect you. It’s why I brought you here, after all. And I failed.” He dips his head for a moment, and Y/N swears she can hear a sniffle.

“Steve….”

“On the way over here, I was so worried that you were hurt. And well…you are.” He sighs. “And after our argument and your kidnap, I thought you stopped loving me. I know it sounds stupid, but the last thing I want to do is lose you and have you stop loving me.” He admits. Y/N’s face softens. How could he ever think that she’d stop loving him? She reaches out to touch Steve, but he flinches away. “So when Nick said you were going to turn me in, I thought it was true. But to be honest…a part of me thinks I deserve to spend the rest of my life in prison. Especially after everything I’ve done to you.” Steve scoffs. “God, so much for me being a scary monster, huh? Nick was right, after all. I am a weakling.”

“No, you’re not.” Y/N sighs. “You came to save me. That’s not weak.” Looking over at Steve’s heartbroken face, Y/N knows that there’s no way she’d ever let him go.

If only she could convince Steve of that.

“You know, though, I used to pride myself on being strong and scary. Especially when I first met you.” Y/N and Steve laugh, remembering the memory. “But somehow, as we grew closer, I think I stopped caring about not being scary. And even though I acted like it at first, I don’t want to hurt you either, or to chop you up. All I care about is you. You bring out the best parts of me, ones that I thought didn’t exist anymore. Or at all.” Steve sighs. “And if you turn me in, I don’t know what sort of person I’d be anymore.”

“Steve.” Y/N begins. “I promise you, I will not turn you in.”

“And why should I believe that?”

“Because I love you Steve!” Y/N sighs, tears stinging at her eyes again. “Fuck, I love you so much. I never stopped, even with this. These past few days with you have been the best time of my life, and I’m not ready for it to end yet. To be honest, I want to stay with you forever, and I’d follow you to the ends of the earth to make that happen.” Sniffling, she takes a breath. “But if you want to go, I understand. Go be free.” Saying those words feels like a knife is twisting in her gut, but she means every word. “Let me end this alone. I started this whole mess, and I’ll finish it.”

And yet, Steve doesn’t move. Although she’s so thankful he’s not running away and leaving her for good, his lack of movement still confuses her. Even after everything he said, she still thought he’d choose his freedom first. “Oh god, Y/N. I’m so sorry about everything. For not believing you right away, for the argument, for letting this happen to you….” Steve gasps suddenly, kissing her all over her face and body. “I love you so much.” He mumbles. And this time, Y/N believes him fully. “Y/N, you’re safe. You’re finally safe.” With those three words, everything hits Y/N at once. Yet, despite the chaos and danger of the moment, all she wants is to be held by Steve, to hold him in return, to be kissed by him, and kiss him all over. Because he came back for her, and he chose her. Immediately, Y/N falls into Steve’s arms, sobbing. He holds her tightly and protectively, and Y/N even swears she hears Steve crying too.

“I love you too.” She presses her lips to Steve, kissing him passionately. The pair stand there for a few moments, each savouring the embrace of the other. Because deep down, they know it could still be the last time they see each other.

“Y/N, go. Run as far away as you can and never look back.” Steve whispers. “I can’t let you put yourself in danger. Let me end this. You’ll be safe from us both, and you can finally live a normal life.” Y/N shakes her head.

“Normal? My life hasn’t ever been normal. And I told you. I’m the one that brought us into this mess, and I’m going to help you finish it.” Steve tries to argue with her, but Y/N is staunch in her decision. “I’m not leaving you.” She takes his hand, squeezing it tightly. “And besides, we’re too intertwined with this care to separate now. We met trying to solve this case, and now we’ll end it together.” Knowing it’s foolish to argue with her any longer, Steve nods, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“God, I love you.” As Nick stirs, Steve squeezes Y/N’s hand. “Ready?” He asks, and she nods. “Then let’s go stop a serial killer.”

As Nick wakes up, the pain hits him. Along with the sensation of blood trickling from his nose. “Fuck.” He hisses, standing up. Y/N and Steve stand across from him, watching his every move. Steve protectively stands in front of Y/N, shielding her with his body. Nick scoffs. “Aww, you two think you can stop me. How sweet.” He mocks. “I’d advise you both to just quit whilst you’re ahead, because this little plan of yours is not going to work.” Neither of them move. “Alright. It’s your funeral.” Nick shrugs. “Let’s start with the girl who started it all.”

“No.” Steve orders. “You start with me. And I’ve been waiting for this one.” He charges forward again, punching Nick right in the face. As the pair start fighting again, Y/N grabs a discarded piece of wood, slamming it into the side of Nick’s head. The hit stuns him for a moment, and she hopes it gives Steve an advantage. Unfortunately, Nick doesn’t go down as she hoped. Instead, he turns his attention to her.

“You fucking bitch.” Nick hisses. Letting go of Steve, he grabs Y/N and throws her against the wall. Y/N immediately and harshly jabs her fist into Nick’s chest, pushing him back. When he frowns, she chuckles.

“Did you forget I did self defence in the FBI?” Instead, Nick laughs.

“No. Did you forget I did it in the CIA too?” He readies himself to strike her again, but Y/N is too quick for him. She shoves him back again, so hard that he stumbles.

“I told you I wanted to solve this case, and I am going to. Dead or alive.” She hisses. Nick tries to strike her again, but she dodges his blows once more, even striking him a few times. Whilst Nick is distracted, Steve hits him again. With a huff, Nick shoves Steve so harshly that he falls back, hitting his head against a pew and landing on the floor with a sick thud. He doesn’t get back up. Immediately, Y/N stops fighting Nick.

“Steve!” She screams, feeling her heart almost stop. She runs towards him, but Nick’s voice sounds from behind her.

“Well, that was underwhelming.” Nick sighs. “Your turn, Y/N.” Nick grabs her leg before she can reach Steve, and he pulls her down. She hits the ground hard, but doesn’t even have time to register the pain before Nick is on top of her. He kneels on her chest to stop her from moving and to cut off her airway, grinning terrifyingly as she gasps for air. Y/N kicks at him with all her might, trying to push him off of her. It doesn’t work, yet she still continues to strain, clawing at Nick’s hands and head, hoping he lets go.

“Get…off me!” She gasps, even though she can feel herself becoming more and more tired. Y/N glances back at Steve, still lying on the floor, unresponsive. She keeps staring at him, hoping that somehow, if she keeps looking at him for long enough, he’ll wake up. “Please….” She whimpers. Even though, deep down, she knows it won’t work.

“He can’t save you this time. It’s just me and you.” Nick grins, peering down at her. “I have to commend you though Y/N. You really are a fighter, much more than my other victims. It’s just a shame you have to die.”

“Go to hell.” Y/N hisses. She still tries to fight back, but it’s becoming more and more difficult to breathe. She reaches her hand out, hoping to grab something, anything, to stop him. But there’s nothing. Even the piece of wood she used is too far for her to grab. A horrible realisation dawns. She’s going to die. This is when it all ends. Nick smirks.

“Is that the best you can do?” He presses his knee deeper into her chest, and Y/N lets out a moan of pain. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees what looks like a small flicker of movement from Steve. Yet, as Nick continues to press down on her chest and small black dots appear in her vision, Y/N swears the movement from Steve was just a hallucination. Something her mind is letting her see before she dies. Still though, Y/N looks over at Steve. Just in case there’s a chance he might save her after all. Yet there’s no other movement, and her heart sinks.

So this is when she dies.

“How does it feel, Y/N?” Nick asks. “To know that I’ll always be your one failure, the one you couldn’t catch? To know that I’ll win?” Y/N can’t even find the strength to say anything. Seeing her slowly slipping away, Nick grins. He leans over, reaching out for his knife. As he does so, he moves his knee from her chest slightly. It’s only a slight movement, but it means that Y/N can finally get some more breath. As her lungs fill, a sense of injustice and a survival instinct kick in too. This isn’t how she wants to die, without even doing everything she wanted to with Steve. It’s not fair. She shoves Nick once more, enough to knock him back slightly, and he releases his grasp on her. Her sudden strength clearly surprises them both, but there’s no time to think about that now.

It’s time to survive.

Y/N scrambles to her feet, trying to run towards Steve and to safety. But Nick is too fast for her. He grabs her and slams her against the wall once more.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Nick hisses. He holds out the knife, the metal of it glinting in the light. “Now, stay still. It’ll all be over soon.” Nick grins. He thrusts his arm out towards her. Quickly, and without a second thought, Y/N grabs his wrist, pulling the knife away from her chest. His hit stabs her in the side, but the adrenaline and shock she’s under means she doesn’t feel it right away Even though he’s glad to have hit her, Nick’s still clearly shocked by her strength…as is Y/N. Yet, Nick readies the knife for another blow. “You know, I really am sorry Y/N. There’s just no other way for this to end.” Nick sighs. As he reaches out to stab her again, Y/N grabs his wrist once more. Despite the growing pain at her side, she turns Nick’s wrist, shoving the knife into his abdomen. A sickening noise sounds, and Nick groans in pain. He grips her shoulder tightly, trying to hold himself up. Y/N leans in close.

“Yes, there is.” She hisses. “And this time, I win.”

“You…fucking bitch.” Nick hisses. Y/N pulls out the knife, and blood pours out of the wound as Nick drops to the floor. As his breath becomes more and more strained, he looks up at her, chuckling slightly. “I was right after all…you do have some darkness in you.” And then he slumps forward, and finally goes silent. Y/N stares down at his body, waiting for him to get up and attack her again. The longer time goes on with no movement from Nick, the more Y/N realises that he’s not getting up.

“Oh god. Shit, oh god. Fuck. Oh god.” She mumbles to herself, panicked. “What did I just do?!” she gasps, feeling her body shaking and her heartbeat rising. Immediately, Y/N drops the knife. Blood stains her hands, and she has no idea who it belongs to.

“Y/N!” Steve is at her side in seconds. The happiness of having him okay and by her side again doesn’t even register, as she’s too panicked to think about anything else than what she’s done.

She’s killed Nick Fowler.

She’s a murderer and a monster, just like everyone used to say about her.

“I think I killed him, Steve.” She sobs. Steve takes her into his arms again, gently rocking her and shushing her as she cries.

“You did the right thing. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He repeats, kissing her all over. “You saved us both, and all those women. You did it. My beautiful Y/N.” He soothes. As she cries, he continues to calm her down. “It had to be done. You stopped him all by yourself. It’s finally over. You’re safe.” At that moment, the shock and adrenaline wear off, and the full extent of the pain in Y/N’s side finally hits her. Wincing, she drops to her knees, Steve falling with her. “Y/N? What happened? Are you okay?”

“He…he stabbed me. In my side.” She hisses through gritted teeth. Immediately, Steve presses his hand to her side. “How’s it looking, doc?” Y/N chuckles, immediately regretting it as it shoots further pain up her body. As he removes his hand, Steve is silent, and Y/N can see a deep crimson covering it. The sight makes her gulp. “Oh. Not good then.”

“Come on Y/N, we need to get you to a hospital.” Steve insists, trying to help her up. Y/N shakes her head.

“No. No, no hospitals. They’re going to take you away from me…and send you back.” Steve sniffles.

“Y/N, if you don’t go, then you’re going to die. I’ve almost lost you before, and I’m not losing you again. I don’t care what happens to me anymore. I want you to be safe.”

“But I care about you.” She insists. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.” She promises, even though she can still feel blood pouring out of her, despite Steve’s attempts to stop it. Y/N can hear the faint sound of sirens in the distance, and she raises her hand to cup Steve’s cheek, wiping away the tears slowly running down his face. “If you don’t go, I’m going to lose you forever. Go. Be free.”

“And what’ll happen to you?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that it’ll be better than what’s going to happen to you.” As the sirens get closer, Y/N’s worry for Steve gets stronger. “Go. Quickly. I’ll come find you.” Yet still, Steve doesn’t move. “Steve! Go! Please!” she begs. Sighing, Steve presses a kiss to Y/N’s lips, one full of passion and pain.

“I love you so much. Never forget that, okay?” Y/N nods, and Steve smiles.

And then, he’s gone.

A/N: I am still continuing this story, so don’t worry. This is not the end! The next chapter is going to be a final epilogue style chapter.

TAGLIST: @buckysboobs, @sebastianstansqueen, @lavendercitizen, @amanda-says, @enchantedbarnes, @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer, @kristophalis, babebr, @nerdypinupcrystal, @marve2014, @sgt-seabass, @themightyloki, @hallecarey1, @phoebethenarwhal, @lxdyred, @potato-with-hair, @chernayawidow, @gabewerk, @snugglingbucky, @late-to-the-party-81, @abbieff, @shadow-dragonz, @fandomblogs-stuff, @hallecarey1, @rach2602, @littlemissthistle, @booksandbenbarnes, @engie115

#steve kemp #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp fanfiction #steve kemp x you #steve kemp x y/n #brendan steven kemp #brendan steven kemp x reader #brendan steven kemp fanfiction #normal onceuponastory #normal fic #fresh the movie #fresh sebastian stan #fresh fanfiction

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nanabooks · 1 year

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— from blood and ash headers. ‧₊˚

🌙 please, like or reblog if you use/save. don't repost!

🌙 @/radiopperlast on twitter.

#poppy x casteel #casteel da'neer #penellaphe balfour #book headers #headers #twitter #books #poppy da'neer #fbaa #ya fantasy

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liecoris · 1 year

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»»🌸 — # liecoris ( ' the flower of the [after] life ' ) — an independent, semi-selective, multi-fandom, multi-ship roleplay blog for my OC, Ito Mukuro - Shinjuku's Top Info Broker who moonlights as an Assassin。 With various animanga and video game verses/AUs。

Themes of this blog include [ but are not limited to ]: struggling to overcome grief, rising from ashes, crawling out of the mud, spitting in the face of those who doubt you, using your body to get what you want, growing up too fast, treating mental illness with unhealthy coping mechanisms, the aftermath of being abandoned, the consequences of overworking oneself, and cold-blooded revenge。

Loved & Written by Koobs! ( she / her, 30 )

»»🌸 — Carrd || Playlist || Aesthetic Board || Wishlist Doc || Interest Checker || Thread Tracker || Promo || AU Master List || Fandom Verse Master List || Bio

»»🌸 — Tags: Open Starters || Memes

»»🌸 — Affiliated With: ragnaofazure / breakblue-azure. memoriamexarca. chxckandmxte. executionher.

icon borders & line dividers: © carrd & promo templates: © header banners: © face claim(s): ( mainly ) Lady Hilis ( Solitary Lady ) and Larcy/Princess of Bats ( I Will Fall with the Emperor )

»»🌸 — THIS BLOG CAN AND WILL CONTAIN TRIGGERING CONTENT

»»🌸 — While I write in fandoms that have a lot of problematic people / a lot of drama in them, I am in no way affiliated with said fandoms. I'm like 30 and do not claim the negative energy stink that some fandoms permeate — 🌸 ««

»»🌸 — Mukuro may be mean to your muse sometimes - she's not the nicest person. She can and will be antagonistic and a bitch.

Minors ARE and WILL be blocked on sight。

#⌈ ✨ ⌉ PINNED POST. ||#»» ooc. || ✨ — ʟᴏᴄᴀʟ ꜰᴏxɢɪʀʟ ꜱɪᴍᴘ.

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little-diable · 2 years

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A woman's helping hand (1/3) - Tommy Shelby

Ahh I’m so hyped for this! It was time for another crime story, here we go with my new mini series. Please reblog if you enjoyed reading this, I'm always open to chat about this series with you. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: A serial killer is keeping the people of Birmingham on their toes, with the number of victims rising higher each night, Tommy and the Blinders are forced to interfere, eventually having to rely on the help of a woman. The woman that warms Tommy’s bed at night, the woman that has always been kept in the dark about their business.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected vaginal sex, degrading, spanking, choking, talks of murder and blood, mentions rape (but no description of it)

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (1.7k words)

Header by @hidingsikki

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Part 2 Part 3

“Have you read this?” Arthur’s voice filled the dining room, eyes focused on Tommy who was staring socially ahead, barely sparing the man a glance. Arthur threw the newspaper he was holding in his hands onto the table, forcefully hitting Tommy’s tea cup. And for a second nothing but silence filled the room, echoing off the four walls as if their final verdict had been spoken.

“Can’t have one morning to ourselves, eh?” Tommy’s eyes met (y/n)’s, who kept glancing between the men surrounding her. One by one she studied them, their grim expressions, the cigarettes hanging between their lips and the barely noticeable expression of uncertainty tugging on their features.

They were afraid. But of what?

Slowly Tommy picked the newspaper up, not sparing the maid who was cleaning the wet table any of his attention. His eyes moved along the lines, eyebrows furrowed together as he found himself deep in thought.

“What is that? A fucking waste of my precious morning with my wife, that’s what this is.” An annoyed huff left Tommy as he pushed the paper against Arthur’s chest, hoping that he and the other Blinders would finally leave his home. But his prayers went by unheard, once again did Arthur open the newspaper, placing it down on the now dry table.

“A serial killer keeps the people of Birmingham on their toes. Another victim has been found, dumped near the canal. Too many cuts litter the man’s face, he couldn’t be identified yet. The cruel work of a gang?” Arthur read the article out loud, eyes finding Tommy’s whenever he inhaled another deep drag of air. The man kept quiet, not reacting to the gruesome words that rolled off Arthur’s tongue.

“Wake up, Tom! That’s bad news, fucking bad news. We can’t afford to have any more attention on us, not when the deal with the,” a loud “Shut up” rumbled through Tommy, shutting his brother up before he could spill any further information. Information Tommy tried to shield (y/n) from, not wanting to pull her into the mess of his business. A sombre fact the woman was awfully aware of, forcing her to rise from her seat, hands folded in front of her waist.

“If you excuse me, I am still quite tired.” The men watched (y/n) leave, patiently waiting till the sound of the bedroom door falling shut echoed through the house. No longer did they care about Tommy’s morning, no longer did they care about wasting any time, fully focused on the pressuring fact that a serial killer was walking freely around their city.

“This is nothing but gossip, you hear me? You are making a fucking fool of yourself, Arthur.” Tommy reached for a cigarette, and with the first pieces of ash he burned a hole into the newspaper. But the men kept pressing on, sitting down on the empty chairs to force Tommy’s attention onto the problem at hand.

“Tom,” John took off his cap, eyes closing in on his brother, whose features dripped with annoyance. “This is serious, seven victims so far. The number keeps growing nightly. We have to do something about this.”

Tommy didn’t reply, deep in thought he kept watching ash fall from his cigarette, falling like the soldiers he keeps dreaming about at night, barely able to sleep through an hour or two, ripped from his nightmares. There were pressing matters keeping him busy, deals he was working on, the business he had to care for, a serial killer wasn’t something he wanted to waste any of his time on. But even Tommy seemed to understand that whoever was making trouble in his city, only meant bad news for their business.

“Alright, we gotta be fucking smart about his. Do we know anything about whoever is doing this?” Tommy reached for another cigarette, impatiently studying his family members who only shook their head no.

“Gotta start somewhere, eh, John, see what you can get your hands on, I don’t care who you’ll have to pester with this, just be fucking quick. Arthur, ask around the Garrison, maybe some will talk after a drink or two.” He rose from the seat, cigarette left to burn out as Tommy started moving towards the stairs, ending their conversation right there and then.

“What about you? What will you do?” John’s voice forced Tommy to halter in his step, eyes fluttering close in annoyance before he turned towards the curious men. Like God - or rather the devil - about to judicialize them, Tommy towered over the men, staring them down.

“I’ll apologize to my wife for my fucking brothers disturbing our morning together.” He left them standing, making his way into the bedroom, where (y/n) was patiently waiting for him. She held a book in her hands, barely reading the words that have oh so carefully been printed onto the expensive paper.

“I was wondering if you’d return at all.” A chuckle bubbled out of her, the book found its way to the ground as Tommy moved closer. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, allowing him to press his front against hers, settling between (y/n)’s outstretched thighs. A searing kiss was shared between the lovers, Tommy’s hand disappeared underneath her dress, caressing her warm skin, the skin he had touched only a few hours ago.

“As if you’d doubt my return. I’ll always find my way back to you, love.” He cupped her heat with his calloused fingers, groaning against her lips at the loss of clothing separating his hand from her cunt. “Have you been sitting bare with my brothers around?”

“Perhaps I was simply gambling, hoping that you wouldn’t manage to stay away for long.” Tommy pushed himself off her frame before he flipped her around, front now pressed against the mattress. Quick movements shuffled her dress up to her waist, exposing her bare behind to his twinkling eyes. And without a warning, his palm connected with her skin, set on burning his handprint into the spot.

“Such a desperate whore, you got no shame, do you?” Her moans left his cock twitching, growing harder in his trousers with every passing minute. She was soaking the spot she was lying on, arousal dripped from her slit, sticking to her skin like honey dripping down one's lips.

“Five more, then you’ll take my cock like the slut you are, this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” (Y/n) could only reply with another moan clawing through her, whimpering at every hard slap that connected with her skin. She felt her clit pulsing in need, hoping that Tommy would finally give in and fuck her, burying his cock deep inside of her.

And like a prayer being heard by whoever was listening, he let go of her, hands working on his tight trousers to pull his cock free. With one hand slung around her waist, Tommy pulled her back against his front, forcing her to kneel on the warm mattress in front of him. He pushed into her from behind, ripping open her walls as if he had never fucked her before, claiming (y/n) with every ferocious thrust.

(Y/n)’s cries left her like a shout leaving a dying woman, desperate for any help. But no help would come, not with Tommy Shelby having his grip on her body and soul, forever marked as his. And she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tommy fucked her with no mercy lingering in his system, set on pushing them over the edge in no time. His hand found her throat, squeezing her windpipe to heighten her senses, watching how goosebumps littered her body. Excitement. Anticipation. And the thrill of death over life.

“Taking my cock so well, fuck, I always knew you were the right one for me.” Tommy murmured his words into her ear, eyelids falling shut as her walls started fluttering around his cock, pulling him even deeper into her. Soon she’d cum, let go with his name rolling off her tongue, a sound so sweet Tommy would have no choice but follow her down the rabbithole.

The sound of their bodies slapping together rang in their ears, filling their every vein with the aching need of pleasure they were oh so addicted to. A bittersweet feeling they’d chase even in the darkest nights.

“Cum for me, soak my cock.” Blindly her body followed his command, she came with a moan, having to hold onto his forearms to stabilise her trembling frame. Tommy fucked her through her high, wanting to prolong the moment for as long as possible, not up for letting her go just yet.

(Y/n) felt Tommy imprint himself on her walls, filling her with his hot cum, a feeling she should be all too used to, but still found herself moaning over like an easy woman doing this simply for the money.

Tommy gently let go of her as he pulled out, watching his cum drip from her cunt, making a mess on the sheets. He couldn’t help but chuckle, enjoying the blissful expression tugging on his wife’s features. Wordlessly he started cleaning them with the towel kept nearby, only fully letting go of her as he started redressing himself.

“I’ll have to go now, can’t leave them alone for long.” He kissed her one last time, forcing a moan of protest out of (y/n) as he parted from her.

“Where are you going?” She called after him, but without any luck. Tommy didn’t reply, once again leaving her in the dark.

“We don’t have much. Just his name, Abe Chimes, he was a regular at some brothels in the area. Apparently he was known for being too rough and not paying for any services.” Arthur leaned back in his seat as he watched Tommy turn towards him, leaning against his office table.

“A fucking rapist?”

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