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Oracle!Reader Part 6

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 5, Part 7

Walking blindly you were surrounded by darkness. The inky color put you off and attracted you at the same time. Anything before this moment faded away from your mind and any thought of the future was erased.

Step by step you walked further into the void that chilled you to your core. What were you looking for? What were you hoping for? Where were you?

The sounds of a city started to come to you and streetlamps came into view. Black concrete roads paved the way as the sidewalk was formed under your feet.

The night sky was littered with stars and you stopped as memories came to mind. You knew this area, you knew what was about to happen.

Despite urging your body to stop, to not go there, to not witness it again. It didn't listen as it made you run down the streets yelling.

"Ashtray! Ashtray where are you!"

The ragged and tattered clothes you were wearing let the cold air nip your skin. The shoes a size too big with holes let rocks scratch your feet as you stopped and turned back.

You had already gave up trying to stop this scene. This was a nightmare you were going to relive no matter what.

The colors blurred as time was sped up until a series of loud bangs crystalized the scene. Gunshots that still, and currently are haunting your dreams.

The sight of an old, ragged man and a cat laying on the ground stabs your heart. The blood pooling around leads your eyes to the injuries.

Eyes glazed over, a jaw barely hanging on by blood stained muscles, and a bloody hole in his forehead that went all the way through. His clothes did very little to hide the gunshot wounds in his torso.

A lean gray cat with black and white patches was in the man's arms. The dried blood and singular bullet hole in the unmoving cat's side made it clear that Ashtray had died earlier.

You took shaky steps towards the old man and Ashtray. The night sky and urban city washed away into the shadows.

With every step you took they only got further and further. The contradicting thoughts between running away and getting closer rattled you.

You loved them. You loved that old man despite the short time you knew him. You loved Ashtray despite his smell and diseases. It's not like you were any different at that time.

You watched as Ashtray and the old man changed into a treasure hoarder. The first treasure hoarder that you saw die by the nobushi.

The small whisper, "Why?…" was all you heard from the wide eyed treasure hoarder before he turned into a stake. The stake suddenly went ablaze as a man's voice screamed.

"WHY? WHY ME?! OH HOLY CREATOR SAVE ME! HELP ME!"

The last scream he let out jogged your memory of the Watatsumi Island sacrifice. The burning stake exploded as wind blew them together to form a Anemoboxer.

The Anemoboxer that you killed.

He took slow steps toward you as the wounds you left on him bled heavily. The ground shook as he came closer and you can only back up until you no longer felt ground under you.

Your breath was stolen as you fell off the cliff. The Anemoboxers form got smaller and smaller as you continued falling. Your hair whipped in the air as your stomach dropped. At last when you could tell the ground was about to meet you, you screamed.

Nothing but a broken gasp left you as you fell off the bed. The flash of pain from hitting the boat floor was a small price to pay for the relief the cold floor gave your sweaty skin.

You laid there tangled with the blanket on the floor struggling to breathe. The waves slowly rocked the boat as the moon shined through the small circular window.

Your breathing slowed down back to normal as you focused on the sound of Beidou and her crew walking around. The boat must have already left and the majority of the crew must be back from drinking.

The sound of their rowdy footsteps and drunken yelling helped ground you. After escaping the blanket you walked to the small door on the side. As you suspected, it lead to a small bathroom.

After cleaning yourself up from the sweat and grime from traveling to Ritou, you felt a little better. The nightmare lingered in your mind but you were more rational.

That treasure hoarder's death wasn't your doing, That man on the stake may have died for you as the creator but you never ask for it. It was really more of his punishment for his crime then something you caused. Now the Anemoboxer...

He may have been doing his 'job' but that doesn't excuse the fact they were kidnapping children for whatever reason. Many times in Genshin Fatui agents were seen taking advantage and/or trying to harm them. A world quest in Sumeru's Kimara village came to mind concerning the Fatui, children and the Aranara's.

Besides did you hold the other two Fatui skirmishers death against Heizou? No, he did it for a good reason therefore you killed for a good reason too. It sounds brutal but that's the truth. Teyvat has it's own laws after all.

With a lighter heart you examined yourself in the mirror. The bathroom was pretty clean for a pirate crew. Druggie dens and frat party bathrooms couldn't even compare. The mask you wore was still barely hanging on.

The mask Yae got you came to mind. After taking it out of the box you turn back to the mirror and remove your old mask. The sight of your full face left you surprised and bitter.

All the statues and artwork pictured you with a healthy glow, clear skin, and a peaceful or loving expression. It's nothing like the face that looks back at you with eyebags, unkempt eyebrows and tired eyes.

The fact that the 'creator' version of you has become more familiar to you then your real face was depressing. You were starting to seriously doubt your belief in whether Teyvat is better than Earth. Your life is shitty in both… maybe you're the actual problem.

Dismissing the weird end your thoughts turned to, you put on the new mask and left your room. You didn't want to go back to sleep but the thought of staying in that cramped room wasn't appealing either.

Contrary to how loud it was earlier, the boat was quiet. You walked past many passed out sailors and were careful not to step on them. After wandering around the lower decks you finally found the steps leading to the main deck.

The salty and crisp air hit your face like a slap. You grabbed a hold of the railing and cringed as the air woke you up. This was your first time on a boat and the waves could be felt way stronger higher up.

Carefully you walked to the railing and saw Inazuma in the distance. It felt unbelievable that you actually escaped with your life. That you were actually going to explore the rest of Teyvat. As long as you live of course.

The boat must have left not too long ago since you can still see the general shape of Ritou. Inazuma was much more pretty from far away. Maybe whenever you come back you can properly enjoy the sights.

Turning back to see the rest of the main deck, you spot another person. White hair with a red streak, red maple leave patterned clothing, and a Iron Sting sword on his hip was Kazuha.

Kaedehara fucking Kazuha was on the opposite side of the deck. The first acolyte you can talk to without fear of Ei or Yae finding out. No chance of your identity being exposed!

That's what you thought until you remembered the wind that he talked to so much.

You were careful not to stare at him as you began a debate with yourself.

You wanted to live a quiet life to avoid drawing attention and potentially exposing your lie. But you also needed to interact with people to build up creditability in the case that you are caught. Yet the only way to talk to them and not have them dub you as suspicious due to the sensation they feel from when you pulled them is to be clear in your oracle identity.

No matter how you slice it, you have to talk and make connections. Then try to keep things only surface level from then on to avoid spinning too many lies. It was hard enough keeping track of everything, you didn't need to throw in unnecessary lies.

A tightrope you will unfortunately walk as long as you want to live.

You walk to Kazuha and get a better look at him as you approach him. His elbow was resting on the railing with his face in his palm. Eyes closed as the moon illuminated him. Truly the picture perfect of serene.

If you ignore his flushed cheeks and soft snores.

Maybe it would be better to just say hello tomorrow-

Kazuha's crimson eyes open slowly and lock onto you immediately. A giggle leaves him as he stares at you in a daze.

"Hello there… I'm-I'm Kaedehara Kazooha."

He ends his sentence with another giggle. He was drunk. Very fucking drunk. You remember the second Golden Apple Archipelago, Kazuha only drank a few cocktails and couldn't even stand. How did he not fall off the ship like this?!

He moves to take a step towards you and he sways dangerously near the edge. Worried you move forward and steady him by letting his arm hang around your shoulder.

This was now the second time a short anemo guy was leaning on you in this position. Maybe it'll become a pattern with them?

Half lidded red eyes stare at your face and it makes you nervous with the close proximity. What if he remembers this incorrectly and thinks you did something bad to him? You help him stand straighter and speak with a worried tone.

"Hello, I'm Y/N but that isn't important right now. Are you okay? You almost fell off the ship."

"Oh, really? It-It's because Beidou didn't-n't give me the rest of the wine." He slurs his words and pouts at you.

Were you supposed to feel bad for him? Because you only wanted to laugh at seeing the calm and poetic Kazuha pout at you. Was this really the same guy that threatened to brand a treasure hoarders forehead?

Well that sobered you up quickly.

"I'm sure Beidou did that with your well-being in mind. Why don't I help you to your room?"

"I cannot agree… not when the wind is… is sweetly crooning to me of… your brilliance." He giggles drunkenly and finishes. "So please… let me stay with… youUU-"

"Okay, okay! Just please quiet down."

You look around and spot a few sturdy looking barrels. You drag the giggling man to the barrels and sit on the ground with your backs resting against the barrels.

Not the most comfortable position but there were no chairs and you didn't want him near the ledge. Now with more space between you both, he seemed to take in your features better.

"You feel very familiar... just like my friend. When I remember himmm melanch-choly consumes me. But you… you feel like a sweeeet dream that-t I'm returning to."

His words are scattered and hard to understand but the meaning is clear.

"I'm an oracle for the creator. Many acolytes that have met me say the same thing."

"Then why does... the wind sing to meee about you?" The pauses and slurring are starting to decrease but the red in his cheeks stay strong.

"Why does th-the sight of you make me, make me want to spout every bit of poetry in my soulll."

His glazed eyes are now intensely staring at you. If it wasn't for his sleepy blinking and fumbling words you would think he was sober. Kazuha starts scooting closer to you.

"The wind? I'm not sure but it must be my connection to the creator. As for the other part, it may be because you drank too much."

The wind must be anemo, some people theorize that Venti is who he talks to but that's not the most concrete theory. Elements and archons must be different entities seeing as you wielded electro to protect yourself. If Ei and electro were the same, surely she would have the electro harm yourself. Ugh that topic requires more attention then you can give it right now.

"Drank too much? No, no, no. I drank far too lit-little. I just need the taste of something stronger..."

You didn't realize just how close Kazuha was now. He was now boxing you against the barrel with his legs on either side of yours. His hands were pressed on the barrel with his face inching closer.

Holy shit, holy shit. Your first instinct is to freeze when you can feel his breath lightly graze you. His eyes stare at you in slight wonder as he speaks softly.

"You must be my new muse. That is why the wind calls me to you. Having you in my vision makes my heart race. It makes me wish I hadn't drank a single drop of sake, for I am getting drunk on your presence alone. The wind speaks of the glory and happiness you bring to anyone lucky enough to meet you. There is no greater muse that I could long for. The haikus and poems I can create in your presence are-"

Okay so he's still shitfaced, the cold wind only improved his speaking. But he was veering dangerously close to doing something that sober him will hold against you.

"Kazuha, I am extremely flattered to be called your muse. And I truly do wish you luck in your writing but it's best you go to bed now."

He giggles and closes his eyes seemingly not realizing you cut him off.

"Y/N, ah what a sweet name, I understand that you may have some reservations about my words but-"

With no time to lose you move his hand off the barrel so you can move out the way and stand up. You pull him up and wrap his arm around your shoulder to not let him fall.

Ignoring your flushed cheeks and rapidly beating heart you speak softly to Kazuha in case the alcohol makes him react strongly.

"Kazuha, if I am your muse then you must know just how heartbreaking it is to lose your muse. The alcohol impairs you and makes you see me in a foggy state of mind. Your drunkenness' is hindering your vision of me."

He pouts and rests his head on your shoulder. Defiantly he retorts.

"I am not drunk, I drank very little." It feels like you're talking to a cranky kid rather than a full grown man.

"My mistake then, I'm sorry Kazuha. Now which way is your room? To make up for my mistake I should escort you back. Not because you're drunk but so that you could draw more inspiration from me as we walk together."

"Oh I see, it's just down those stairs and then a right till we get to the end of the hallway."

Guiding drunk people into telling you what you need to know is one of the easiest things. You spent a lot of time on Earth surrounded by drunkards and tricking them into spilling information.

With a smile you help Kazuha to his room. With each step the sleepy swordsman became heavier and heavier. You're basically carrying all of Kasha's weight when you finally arrive at his room.

He must be pure muscle from how much weight you were carrying. You push the door open with your shoulder and sigh in relief once you drop him on his bed.

Kazuha sleepily moves to rest his head on the pillow as you catch your breath.

"Well Kazuha I'll see you in the morning." You move to leave but Kazuha grabs your wrist and looks up at you.

"Nooo... Don't leave yet. Stay with me, just for a little while. I'll tell you the haiku I made with the inspiration I got from you."

It wouldn't hurt to stay right? No one could deny that Kazuha was a very cute drunk. You could totally afford to give in for once. You sat on the bed and smiled at him.

"It would be my pleasure Kazuha. The creator has always praised your flowery language so I've always wanted to hear it myself."

Kazuha smiles brighter at the mention of the creator. "Then I'm confident that you will enjoy it Y/N."

"Winds whisper sweet sounds,

In my sight, the brightest star,

Gold masks and bright smiles."

Kazuha finishes the haiku before passing out on the bed. Shoes and all. You try to get up and leave again but his grip on your wrist is tight. You tug your wrist but he's just not letting go.

Is it because he's a skilled swordsman that it's this hard to escape his grasp? After bracing yourself and pulling a few time you finally got your wrist free.

You leave Kazuha's room feeling a lot better then when you first boarded the ship. Although you know Kazuha will be horribly embarrassed when or if he remembers what happened, it's more than okay with you.

Not only will Kazuha automatically have a good impression of you for dealing with his drunken self but also feel indebted to forgiving any mistakes you might make. Plus it was fun not having to worry about any lies to tell or upkeep.

It's futile to hope but you still want to entertain the idea of the rest of your journey being this peaceful. Seeing your favorite characters in passing and admiring the scenery of the different nations. It's what you dreamed of while on Earth and now you'll also dream of it while being on Teyvat. Ironic isn't it?

You remember something and head to the main deck. After walking to and from it, you've figured out the general route. The drunk crew members were still sprawled, passed out on the floor. Which was really annoying to pass over so you took the liberty to move them to sit against the wall.

Once outside you looked towards the direction of Inazuma. It was a lot smaller now but you could still see Narukami Island. It was close enough for what you wanted to test. The lack of witnesses was a nice bonus.

Pulling up the game screen, you went straight for the Wish system. One look at your primogems made you wanna cry. How in the world did you get 15,546?! You only had 46 when you were on Earth! Another mystery that you were not going to spend precious time thinking about.

There was no banner either, instead it had a handprint. Errily similair to the boat you used when you first arrived here. You placed your hand on it and say.

"Show me Kamisato Ayaka's banner."

It starts to glow and you yank your hand away. The glowing stops showing Ayaka's banner with the fours stars from her most recent banner. This could be really helpful and seriously exploited.

The increase of primogems, the banner disappearing, choosing any banner, it must all be due to your power as the creator. Although the game screen is weird and mysterious, it has always helped you. Best not to question it.

You had no pity and only had enough primogems for 97 pulls, would it be enough? Putting trust into whatever luck you had, whether good or bad, you start wishing.

You press the 10 pull option and watch the night sky above you glimmer as a purple shooting star is surrounded by smaller blue shooting stars.

No wonder they believed you were some holy creator who was going to descend on Teyvat with gold blood. The sight was breathtaking.

Maybe Hoyoverse or rather Mihoyo was the true creator and you were just deluding yourself into thinking you were the creator?

Nah too far of a stretch. Plus they knew what was your favorite food, so you were most definitely still the creator.

The game screen displayed all the character constellations and weapons you won. So you kept pulling and pulling with still no Ayaka in sight.

At the 90th pull you finally saw the gold shooting star. It was the sky lighting up with a gold glow that really caught your attention. Unlike the blue stars that fizzled out quickly or the purple stars that joined others to form constellations, the gold star went farther.

It shot across Inazuma until it seemed to be over the Kamisato Estate. It gave one last bright gold glow before disappearing. Looking back at the screen, you saw Ayaka's splash art.

Satisfied, you exit the Wish system and close the screen. Hopefully her life would be easier now that she was a awakened acolyte. That she can feel loved by the creator she treasures so dearly even though you will probably never build her.

You go back to your room and lay on the bed. You fall asleep to the sounds of the waves and creaking of the boats. Completely unaware of the joyful crying from Ayaka and the celebrating Kamisato Clan.

Wanted to keep this a happy(ish) chapter. Plus I wanted a short one after the monster that was part 5. Kazu's haiku was made by me, yes I followed the rules. Like the 5, 7, 5 syllable rule. I'm pretty sure I did it correctly but idk it was my first time doing poetry. I'm just lucky it didn't need to rhyme. The next chapter will be purely boat stuff with Beidou and Kazu. For now at least, may add more as I write the draft. Also going to be counting the Liyue characters to see how many I can fit. Along with locations since Y/N is going to the Adventures guild. Perhaps as I write I'll figure out if Y/N should go to Sumeru or Mondstadt. Taglist: @vvyeislazzy, @nikqi, @the-dumber-scaramouche, @etherisy, @yourlocalstranger123, @ra404, @iruiji, @goldenglow149, @haru-tofuu, @lsleepysimpl, @bebobeboben, @yuyuzi-ling, @amidst-the-tempest, @resident-cryptid, @mxd1zzy, @mochicurls21, @nervouseaglelover, @thedevioussmirk, @yumuramma, @kwqsla, @undecidingfate, @ehjane, @game-savvy, @akiramirae, @sielt, @fluffy-koalala, @formacoon, @sxftiebee, @khxii-i, @ursinaw, @chuuya-brainrot, @sweetbills, @kazuchaos, @snowfoxnix, @bluebelony, @conspicuous-mayonnaise, @pencil-of-ashes, @ghostlyintervention, @taiformaifoe, @sielt, @goaudduck, @carminerin, @maddysflowers, @zenith-of-all-zeniths, @crazydreamcat, @leafanonsforest

he a wolf boy now

My face whenever someone I don't know or like touches me

‘pierrot and the cat’ - théophile steinlen (1889)

The Hunt

König x 'Maus' F!Reader

(Part 13 of 'Little Mouse')

Word Count: 5.3k Rating: Mature Tags: Stealth missions, Banter, Cat and Mouse, Hypothermia, Sharing body heat, Cuddling, Snuggling, Angst Warnings: None A/N: Thank you for staying with the series despite the break!

You're starting to think you might die out here.

It's been hours since you three dropped into the Kazakhstan mountains, just narrowly avoiding an incoming snowstorm that has since painted the steep mountains white. The air is thick with the blank, icy taste of snow, and you struggle to catch Soap and Ghost in their snowgear as they ascend up the cliff to the remote radio tower station that is the source of your intel. They're strong, clambering up the slope one at a time while the other watches their six. You supervise them from afar, perched on a cliff opposite of the valley, trying to catch sight of them despite the curtain of white that falls between you. 

Laswell was the one to point you here, as she usually does. The station chief has been combing through intelligence for months, searching for breadcrumbs on Makarov. The man is a ghost in the wind, vanished from prison and now hiding secretly as he plots his next move. He could be anywhere in the world. Your hunt for him had been delayed by your tangle with KorTac, but now even they seem to have vanished into the breeze with nary a trace.

You adjust your scope, zooming in on the sight of Soap and Ghost perching on a cliff edge, shoulders heaving with exertion. You smirk under your snow mask and sweep your sights further up the slope towards the target they are ascending towards. 

The tower itself is unassuming, a lone and decrepit thing in the middle of nowhere. Yet all it had taken was a single errant ping from a satellite to realize the traffic out of this seemingly normal outpost was far larger than originally thought. It could be nothing, it could be everything, but one thing remains clear, and it's the message Laswell managed to pull and decipher from a single static transmission, letters spelled out in Russian.

KorTac.

It's the first lead you've had in over a month. The mercenary group had seemingly gone underground following your raid on their satellite base. By the time Laswell had managed to pull an order to survey the site via drone footage, there was nothing left. The entire place had been burnt to the ground, devastated, nothing but ashes to comb through in search of answers. Since then the group had vanished, gone in the wind. Not defeated, but biding their time, waiting in the dark and drawing plans that would eventually come to full fruition. 

"Bravo 09, this is Bravo 07, how copy?"

You barely catch a glimpse of Ghost as he raises a hand to his headset. The transmission is tinted with static due to the snowstorm, but you can still make out the low, hushed accent of  the older man's voice as he checks in.

"Got you in my scope, 07." You report back, mouth moving behind your snowmask, wet with condensation. You shiver, feeling half an inch of snow on your back, not moving from your sniper position, ready to wait here hours more if need be. You hope for the sake of your fingers and toes it doesn't come to that.

"It's cold as balls out here, LT." You grouse in addition, and you see Soap's head tilt towards Ghost as he regards his partner.

"My balls are cold." Johnny agrees irritably, but there's a touch of playfulness there that hasn't been dampened by the snow.

“Feeling a little shriveled, Johnny?” You snark crudely, and hear the Scot make an indignant little scoff in return.

"Focus, both of you." Ghost snaps, to which you both silence yourselves with a snicker. "We're almost at the perimeter. We'll be going radio dark after that."

"Copy." You reply, adjusting your scope with numbing fingers to focus on the steel fence that surrounds the radio tower and the adjoining building. "Good hunting, you two."

Neither Soap or Ghost reply, focusing instead on climbing the last few ledges on the opposite side of the mountain. You watch as they take a break at the top, crouched near the edge. Eventually you hear Ghost’s voice filter over the comms. 

“Break’s over, Johnny.”  Ghost declares, and stands, offering him a hand and hauling Soap up so they advance forward along the slippery, snow laden cliffside. An incoming wall of white obscures your view of them as they round the edge towards the fence, and you hear one last garbled transmission from Ghost before they vanish.

It’s silent after that, with nothing but the wind howling in your ears and prickling under your skin. Even with your thick, downy parka there’s little respite from the bone biting chill that seeps into your veins. Perched in place as you are on overwatch, you know there’s no moving until your two comrades find their way out to you once more. 

So you huddle in, ignoring the chatter of your teeth and trying to steady your hands on the rifle, hoping and praying that the chamber doesn’t freeze, and that you won’t need to use it. The cold grips tight to your veins, and you try to imagine the lulling warmth of a campfire that you can’t afford. 

Hurry back. You think towards your two comrades. Before I fucking freeze to death.

There’s a tinny sort of whine in your radio, and you shift to adjust so the transmission comes through.

"Bravo team, this is Watcher-01, do you read me?" Laswell's voice comes in, tinny and crackling but still recognizable.

You blink, brow knotting. Laswell had signed off shortly before your parachute jump into the mountains. Whatever has caused her to reach out like this must be urgent. Maybe the tower is a bust, and she's decided to pull you from the mission. 

Ghost and Soap don't respond, and you think they might have already switched off their radios. So instead, after a pause, you respond in their stead. 

"This is Bravo 09, send traffic Watcher."

There's a pause before Laswell responds. "Bravo 09, advise all stations we may have KorTac operatives in the field."

You suck in a breath, feel cold air seize your lungs and descend into your veins with icy realization. If KorTac is here, then that means this tower is much more important than originally thought. You haven't run into any members of KorTac since Price's rescue, which means...

He could be here.

You store the thought as quickly as it came, trying to find Soap and Ghost against the rocky outcrop, only to come up empty handed. 

"Copy, Watcher. Ghost and Soap have gone radio silent." You report with a little grunt of frustration, knowing the two of them have already made their way inside. It could be too late, they might have found out the hard way just what waits for them. “They’ve likely breached the perimeter.”

"Then keep an eye out, Rookie, we need to-"

You blink as static garbles Laswell's next words, swallowing them with a crackle that fades to a high pitched whine.

"Watcher, repeat." You try, leaning a hand up to your headset to try and regain the signal.

Static.

"Laswell?"

Silence.

The storm must have knocked out the signal, which does not bode well for your mission. You try once more to raise Soap and Ghost, to no avail. You breathe in and quell the uncertain flutter of your heartbeat, feeling a familiar sense of knowing dread thrum low through your chest. The extrasensory insight you rely on to discern the state of the world around you hums with warning, does little to ease the low roll of your stomach. 

It's fine, you tell yourself. Soap and Ghost have handled far worse than this. You weren't there for Las Almas, having joined the team only after, but you heard the story from Johnny. Barely armed, pursued, injured, out of supplies and ammo, and yet somehow they had survived. This, with them well armed and in pursuit, should be no challenge. 

It takes a few minutes to repeat this to yourself, but it does nothing to relax the anxious, knowing pulse of sixth sense that hovers in the back of your mind. 

When the radio crackles again you nearly jump, muttering a transmission before anything can come through. 

"Laswell, do you copy?"

Static. 

Then, a different voice. 

"Hello, Maus."

If you were cold before, the voice that filters through your radio sends you hurtling into hypothermia, jolting at the familiar, purring intonation of the man who has long since pursued you.

“König.” You breathe, unable to contain the shocked breathlessness from your voice.

“Long time no see, as they say.” He murmurs, and you can hear the low, sultry delight of his voice at your response. You should have stayed quiet, shouldn’t have spoken, switched to another channel to get a hold of Laswell, tried to reach Soap and Ghost to tell them to retreat. 

“What are you doing here?” You hiss instead, gritting your chattering teeth. 

“I could ask you the same thing. You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, fraulein?”

You don’t respond to that, too busy trying to ignore the way the KorTac operative’s voice itches pleasantly under your skin. It’s a vain betrayal, and you internally chastise yourself for remembering the darkness of the supply closet that accompanied your last rendezvous, the soft, yearning words between you. You’ve tried to lock away the memory of it, the way his voice rumbled softly down at you with a traitorous promise that you know will mean the end of you both.

"I might try and kill you again." You breathe, voice wavering as you desperately try to reign in the wickedness of your heart. "I can't promise you I won't succeed."

"You won't." He tells you, and his voice is resolute. There is no uncertainty, no hidden conviction in the utter confidence of which he speaks. "You can try, Maus. You won't be able to."

"And if I don't?”

König blinks at you, eyes fluttering shut for all of a moment before he speaks.

"Then we'll be here again." He murmurs, and you want to shudder at the sudden softness of his voice, allowing that forbidden thing inside you to stretch forward into him. "Again and again, Maus. Over and over until one of us surrenders." 

You’ve tried to forget in his absence, shutting out the way you’d closed your eyes when he had tried to kiss you, vainly attempting to replace it with the knowledge that he’s tried to kill your friends, that he was responsible for Price’s capture, for your capture so long ago. In the weeks he’s been gone you’ve curled silently into your bunk, trying to convince yourself how wrong, how selfish you are for allowing yourself to harbor feelings for him. 

Now, when he’s here, now that his voice purrs into your radio with that beloved endearment, Maus, you find your steadfast resistance crumbling down around you like snow shifting on the mountains- preceding an avalanche. 

“I missed you, Maus.”

It sounds almost like a whine, a needy thing that would be pouting if there wasn’t an undertone of secret, gleeful intent beneath.

Don’t. You remind yourself, body scrunching tight as you try to control your breathing so he doesn’t hear your shuddering exhale. 

“Where are your friends?” You ask instead, voice even, flat.

He’s silent then, and you swear the absence of his words speaks of disappointment.

“That’s not how this works, Maus.” He replies, voice betraying his discontent.

You snort. “Tell me then, how does this work?”

There’s a strange crackling sound over the radio, and if you listen closely you can hear him chuckle.

“It works. Just with you and me.”

You let out a freezing breath at that, and you know it crackles over the comms towards him. You’re silent, but it’s different now as you begin to ease from your original surprise. Against your better judgment, you allow yourself to be soothed by the gentle tenor of his voice, allow yourself to remember what it felt like to nearly be kissed by him. The phantom touch of his knuckles under your chin, tipping you up towards him ghosts across your skin with a wicked, traitorous temptation. 

“What are you doing out here, Maus?” König asks, and it's more like a sigh, a reminiscent thing that seems to recall your previous wayward parting. 

“Recon.” You tell him flatly, refusing to divulge any more details lest it compromise your mission. 

“Alone?”

You think of Soap and Ghost struggling up the cliff side, vanishing in a cloud of white towards the perimeter of the radio tower. He can’t be allowed to know they’re here. God only knows what may happen to them, to him if they find each other.

“Yes.” You breathe, but your hesitation betrays your lie for what it is.

König hums in consideration, and you know him well enough by now to know the narrowing of his eyes, the slight tilt of his head as he weighs your words. 

“I think you’re lying, Maus.” He intones, and you stiffen at that, at the small whisper of threat that lingers in his voice- the sound of a man born and bred to kill, to hunt and maim. 

You, in your naive fantasies, forgot he too was a hunter. 

“I think your friends are here.” He goes on, voice low with danger, and you feel your muscles go taut, eyes wide and shoulders stiff. “Should I go say hello?”

“I’m alone.” You tell him again, but your voice is a thin, desperate thing, caught tight in your chest. 

König chuckles, as if he finds your rising panic amusing.

“A joke, Maus.” He explains, and it does little to relieve you, not with the way it failed to sound like anything other than a threat.

“But...” He continues, his voice hanging between you like suspended frost. “I guess if you are alone, you wouldn’t mind company, mm?”

You close your eyes, scrunching them shut at the way your heart clenches with an excitement you shouldn’t feel. The idea of his touch on you again is both exhilarating and terrifying- like drinking poison just because you love the taste. He’s a venom that slips into your veins, purrs under your skin and warms you through even as you burn from the inside out.

The logical part of you knows to refuse him. Yet there’s also a chance that if he remains where he is, he has a very good chance of bumping into Ghost and Soap, which is the absolute last thing you need right now- for the mission, and for yourself. You need to draw him from the tower, away from the others.

“You’re welcome to.” You purr back, refusing to show your wavering voice. “That is...if you can find me.”

He pauses at that, and you wonder if he expected you to refuse him and instead pleasantly surprised. 

“A game?” He asks, and you hear the rising excitement in his voice, like a predator who has caught the scent of something delicious. “And my prize?”

You huff at that, oddly endeared by his sadistic sort of playfulness. “I suppose you’ll have to find out, König.” You reply, voice low with promise.

“You’re a vexing woman, Maus.”

Thank God Laswell can’t hear this.

“Try and find me if you can.” You goad, narrowing your scope on the fence perimeter where Ghost and Soap have yet to emerge. “Good luck.”

“Oh I won’t need luck.” He purrs, and you shiver.

“Then I’ll see you soon.” You reply, and switch the channel on your radio off. 

Silence follows, and you release a deep, slow exhale to steady yourself. The snow muffles all sound, even the thump of your heartbeat as it beats unevenly against your tender ribs. You try to tame the excitement that hums inside you, forcing yourself into stillness until the cold embraces you again.

It’s unlikely he’ll be able to find you, buried as you are. You’ve allowed snow to accumulate on your back and legs, slowly engulfing your pale snow gear in a further camouflage. You’ve been here for well over an hour, and can stay much longer than that if you need. Not moving, barely breathing. Still and silent in the way snipers are, waiting for your chance to pull the trigger.

There’s a part of you that hopes he finds you, somehow. It’s a selfish, dangerous thing, fed by the excitement of hearing from him for the first time in weeks, scratching the itch you’ve desperately been trying to bury inside yourself. It’s the thing you’ve felt for a while now, a secret desire that betrays all the values and loyalty you hold dear to.

The desire to be caught.

You scrub a snow laden hand across your face, hoping somehow the frost will clear your mind of traitorous thoughts. You need to focus on the mission- ensuring that Soap and Ghost make it to the extraction point without anyone tailing or firing after them. You drew König out not because you wanted to see him, but because you were trying to protect your teammates from an enemy operative. That’s all this is. No wayward, illicit romance, no purring over the comms and suggestive flirtations, and certainly no memories of staring up at your enemy in a dark room and hoping he would find the courage to kiss you.

For fuck’s sake, get a hold of yourself.

You push the image away as far as you can, and train your scope once more on the ice laden cliff across the narrow valley.

It’s quiet in the minutes that follow, and you feel the heavily falling snow continue to pack along your spine. You try to contain your chattering teeth and shivering hands, noting with irritation the undue wobble of your scope as you sweep your sights across the landscape-

What?

A shape, there and gone in a mere moment, vanishing along the narrow path off to your right in a cloud of white. You’re certain you saw something, but when you train your sights, there’s nothing there.

Maybe...

You should move to a better position.

It might be a good idea. The motion would heat up your trembling, frigid limbs, and the snow would hopefully cover any tracks you leave behind. Yet there’s risks of doing so. The second you move, even with your snow camouflage, there’s a risk of being spotted by the operative hunting you through the snow.

You purse your chapped, cold lips under your snow mask, and weigh your options.

-and that’s when you hear the sound behind you.

You flip over quickly, reaching for your side arm, but the weapon is buried against your side in the snow, and as you fumble for it a huge, towering figure lurches into view.

“Found you, Maus.” König rumbles as he steps from behind a tree, and before you can bite a reply, try to raise your silenced pistol, you freeze.

“What-” You manage, a little forced, blinking. “What are you wearing?”

König pauses mid-step as he stalks towards you, eyes wide under his hood. Your question catches him off guard, and he glances down at himself in confusion. His hood, normally a dark, ominous black, is now a strangely, ghostly gray that matches his long, snow-white layers and tan tac vest. Black boots and thick gloves are tugged over his pants and sleeves, but his helmet remains the same.

“...You don’t like it?” He asks, and you laugh out of pure disbelief.

“I-” You try, side arm now forgotten. “Yes?”

You shake yourself, and reach once more for your weapon.

“Ah-” König tuts, quickly moving forward too fast and gently placing a boot over your arm. “Please don’t, Maus.”

You frown at him, try and wiggle your arm, only for him to increase the weight on it. “Asshole.” You seethe, and König huffs an indignant little sound. “What if I said that was your prize?”

“A bullet?” He tilts his head at you. “You shouldn’t have.”

“No, I really should.” You insist past chattering teeth, and tug more severely at his ankle despite your heavy, shivering limbs.

He watches you struggle in vain, and you hate the amused little glint in his eyes.

Finally, you flop back into the snow, winded.

“I won.” He provides smugly, and you punch at his calf in one more outraged attempt to dislodge him, with no success.

“So what then?” You seethe. “Are you going to capture me again?”

“No.”

You blink, look up at him, startled by the sudden severity of his tone. He bites out the word like you’ve insulted him, sneering and dangerous. You’d only sort of been joking, but the reflexive refusal that you’ve managed to elicit has you pause, considering.

“We’re...past that, Maus.” He goes on, voice softer. The boot eases from your arm a bit. “I thought we agreed on that much.”

"Some things are more beautiful when they are free, Maus."

It’s difficult to decide how you feel about that.

Part of you is relieved that König has decided to forego the obsession of capturing you. For reasons still unknown to you, O’Connor had kept Price alive during his captivity. You have a feeling that for you, your fate at the hands of KorTac would be far less kind. Held by ransom at best, an unmarked grave at worst, it’s fortunate for you that the Austrian towering above you has decided much the same.

Yet you also wish somehow things could go back to what they were- simpler. König trying to take you alive, and you- trying to kill him for it. Instead, the haunting memory of the darkness inside the storage closet of the KorTac base, of how you’d almost let him kiss you, of how you saw his face, remains a treacherous addiction you desperately try to rid yourself of. Now, this, whatever it is, seems to have spiraled beyond your reach, unable now to discern the lines between villain and dangerous ally, a balance you fail to reconcile with every frost-bitten breath inside your chest.

You try to force a glare up at him, but instead feel your expression cast between dismay and doubt, a visage that he absorbs and blinks slowly down at you.

“You’re shaking, Maus.” He notes quietly, voice barely audible above the ice-laden wind. “Are you afraid?”

“No.” You bite back, and that at least is the truth. “Just freezing my ass off.”

König tilts his head at you, and is silent for a moment, considering. Yet then you see his eyes behind the mask, crinkling at the edges as he smiles.

“Poor little liebling.” He coos, and you frown harder at that, the almost condescending dip of his voice. Yet before you can protest König uses his boots to gently roll you onto your stomach back to the position you were at before, and then abruptly dropping his weight onto your back.

“W-what-” You croak in surprise, face warming as you try and squirm under the massive bulk of him pressed flat against your spine. “What are you doing?!”

“You said you were cold.” The giant above you reasons, settling in so he blankets you on all sides with his larger frame. “I’m just trying to keep you warm, Maus.”

Your brain short circuits, fizzling into nothingness as you battle the absolutely absurdity of the situation with the welcome body heat bleeding into your bones from above.

This is so beyond the field manual I might as well burn the thing.

König happily nuzzles into your back, trapping you underneath him. He arranges his arms in a cradle to rest your head in, his own cheek pressed to the nape of your neck with a pleased sigh.

You can’t even find the words to object to this bizarre development, eyes blinking dumbly into the wall of white that obscures the other side of the valley where Soap and Ghost have vanished to. You can only silently thank whatever higher power there is that they can’t see this- can’t see you as you find yourself cuddling with the enemy.

“I’ll take this as my prize.” König murmurs cheerfully, and you make a sound of utter disbelief, confused yet not entirely displeased at this development.

The more you fail to squirm free, the more heat radiates from the form of the soldier behind you, encasing you in a small cocoon of heat that blessedly chases above the shiver in your muscles. Slowly, you find yourself relaxing against him, taking in the warmth for all its worth and silently convincing yourself it’s just for survival.

Can’t RV if I’m hypothermic, after all. You try to reason, blatantly ignoring the tiny voice inside you that speaks otherwise.

“You’re keeping me alive.” You muse aloud, mouth partially covered by your snow mask and the cradle of his arms.

“I am.” König replies simply with a small shrug.

“Why?”

König pauses for a moment. You swear you feel him stiffen, feel the thump of his heartbeat pound between your shoulder blades as he attempts to summon an answer.

“Because I like you, Maus.” He tells you at last, soft and breathy in your ear. “I like you better alive.”

The cold air in your lungs seems to punch at the staccato rhythm inside your chest, forcing a cold intake of air that you pray he doesn’t notice.

“Since that first time we met.” König goes on, voice rumbling low from his chest into the warming dip of your spine. “I saw you, saw the way you fought, the way you...weren’t afraid. You were so soft and small in my arms...”

He trails off then, but when he resumes his musings he chuckles low against your nape. “You were like a little bird, but when you woke up it turned out you had fangs, Maus.”

You feel a small flush of pride at that, at the reminder of the way you had challenged him, had refused to back down despite the towering, intimidating stranger before you. In truth you’d been terrified, knowing your capture could have meant torture, even death, knowing that Gaz had been left behind bleeding and unconscious.

Gaz...

Your face falls in dismay.

What would he think of you like this? With the man who once had almost killed him? Who had dared to steal you away right in front of his eyes? What would he make of this? With you in the arms of an enemy, refusing to squirm free, to kill the man who had once helped kidnap Price.

...With a man who had saved your life more times than you could count?

“We can’t...do this.” You breathe quietly into the snow, eyes half lidded and scarcely gazing at the wall of white before you. “König...”

The man behind you is silent, and you know without seeing his eyes he’s taking in your words, thinking very much the same. Like you, König knows the danger of his fascination with you, the way he’s already betrayed his own company to aid you, to keep you safe. You both know that the lines you have both crossed betray the allies you’ve sworn yourselves to, caught in a dangerous abraxas that neither of you can control.

“Would you?” He asks in a whisper shielded by the wind. “If things were different, Maus?”

You close your eyes, feeling your chest clench with an emotion you dare not name. You should lie to him. You should tell him that this, this is something you never expected, something you can indulge in no longer. You should tell him next time that you won’t hesitate, that you’ll squeeze the trigger and watch this horrid affair finally come to its fateful, bloody conclusion.

Instead, you offer in a scarce whisper:

“Yes.”

There’s a long pause before König sighs behind you, his chest deflating into your spine and the warm breath of him spilling across your nape. You shiver under him, purely out of sensation rather than the cold, reminded of the intimacy of the position you two find yourselves in.

“What am I going to do with you, Maus?” He asks, and despite the melodrama involved you know it’s a genuine question- one you yourself have asked many, many times.

“We could go back to trying to kill each other.” You offer with feign cheerfulness.

“I never wanted to kill you, Maus.”

Right.

In some ways you wish he had. If König never had qualms about killing you, perhaps this could be avoided.

“You could desert.” You say suddenly, surprising yourself. “Defect and surrender to the 141.”

“Do you really think it’s that simple, Maus?” He asks, almost dismayed.

You know it’s not. With everything König has done, with the legacy he’s left on you and your teammates, you know they’d never trust him. Even if you explained to them that König wasn’t the monster they think he is, that he had never done the things they suspect him of, you know all you’d receive in return is your friends’ disbelief and distrust for lying to them, for asking them to trust the man who had once captured you.

The image of their faces, of the hurt and despair and disappointment etched across their eyes, is something you can hardly bear.

This is your fault, you think quietly, with dawning despair. You should have killed him long ago. You should have told your team. Perhaps they’d have forgiven you if you’d confessed, consoled you and told you that this was all just a horrible maladjustment to your capture back then. If you’d told them, if you’d killed him...

“Maus.” König observes at the small shuddering breath you draw in, emotions bubbling inside your chest.

If things were different, then somehow....maybe...

“Bravo-09, this is Bravo-07.”

You jolt, muscles seizing at the sudden staticky tenor of Ghost’s voice over your comms. König braces on his forearms to allow you to scramble for your radio, voice breathless as you respond.

“Go ahead Bravo-07.”

“Sweep cleared. Proceeding to rally point Alpha. Fifteen minutes.”

“Good copy, LT. Are you being followed?”

A pause, then. “Negative, Bravo-09. Place was empty. Looks like they’d just burned it.”

You blink, then twist towards König.

“You bastard.” You manage, eyes wide as you realize what he’s done. “This was a distraction.”

König’s eyes soften with a remorse that fails to quell the anger warming in your veins.

“A necessary one, Maus.” He offers simply, removing the weight of his body from yours. You twist onto your back to face him, a mixture of rage and hurt written clear across your face. König towers above you, a massive shadow that easily dwarfs your prone form.

“You’re lucky you and your friends came when you did. A day earlier and you’d all be dead.”

“Why?” You manage, voice strangled. “Why distract us?”

“You know I can’t tell you that, Maus.” He offers, almost sadly. “We’re still enemies, after all.”

He steps away from you then, and even when you know he sees your hand reach for your sidearm, he doesn’t flinch. Instead he pauses, offers you a clear line of sight that would allow you to take the perfect shot at his turned back.

“...But maybe not forever.” He finally offers, and steps easily into the trees, vanishing.

You watch after him, expression pained, asking the snowy sky for answers it cannot yield.

In the place where he once was, your finger trembles on the trigger.

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ah yes. me, the werewolf curse and that crazy blonde bitch.



Kinda disappointed that there isn't much work for Maliketh the Black Blade 😔

Go to therapy or read another fan fiction of your favorite fictional character?

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The young princess and her father

I love this, it reminds of of the Hannibal series where Jacob Hobbs was killing girls that looked like his daughter because he didn't want to lose her.. great series

All the things you do to me

(mdni)

leon kennedy x reader

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

warnings: kidnapper!leon, undercover cop!reader, fem!reader, kidnapping, mentions of stalking, mentions of nude photos, sir kink, leon makes reader call him 'dad' (near the end), mention of suicide (it's one sentence, easily skipped), references to stockholm syndrome (reader slowly falls into the trap), suggestion of cannibalism (lmk if i forgot anything)

a/n: okay so... this is a lot tbh. i felt bad for leon icl cause he is just a guy so i made him more sad!!! also gave him more backstory too. i actually wrote this all in one day and it's a total of... *deep breath* 3.2k words! don't get used to this pls i just enjoy writing insane leon.

also want to say a thank you to @prettyevermores for giving me inspiration for leon's backstory!!! also this is most likely going to be a series so... i'm betting on the chance it's not going to be loads and loads of parts.

please enjoy!! (also i will do a tagslist per people's request for this series)

“Keep callin’ me that baby, I'll give you what you want.”

You're unsure how long you've been asleep for, but for once you feel unusually well rested, even with those constant nights of fingering yourself raw.

And you're naked, tied to a chair as well. Seems like you're going full monty.

That's all you're fully aware of, but the rest?

Well, fuck knows where you are, this blindfold is covering up about ninety-five percent of your peripheral, the other five percent is pretty blurry.

“You're awake.” Yeah, no shit. Oh wait, you got kidnapped last night, right. Like it was an easy thing to forget.

Thing is, it is easy to forget when you got fucked so good you actually were tempted to tell your stalker to keep going. You're even tempted to ask for more.

The blindfold is moved down your face, now hanging round your neck like a necklace, your eyes becoming apparent to the room you're now in.

You vaguely recall the pictures of the victims that were sent in were taken in this room, though there were some pictures of a girl that you hadn't seen before, but you didn't let yourself dwell on it.

The yellow stained walls were littered with crude pictures dotted around the place, alongside teddy bears strewn on the floor alongside blood spatters and a crappy mattress.

You'd think the room would smell of rot, but all you could smell was that of candles burning.

A camcorder was standing up on a stand in front of you, capturing your every movement, with Leon standing beside it. “How do you like it here?”

Words couldn't form in your mouth, opening your mouth and only a pathetic whimper coming out of your mouth. Honestly, you'd been in a situation like this before, but when Leon had those calculating eyes on you, you felt like a little lamb.

Didn't really help that you were naked, you supposed.

His hand cups your cheek, a gesture to make you look up at him. “I know you may be a little mixed up right now,” He starts stroking you too, making you feel like a dog or something. “But you're mine now- mine to look after.”

You feel sick, no like, you're going to throw up all your guts on him, though you think to yourself that the fucker would enjoy it. Doesn't really help with the feeling at all unfortunately, in fact, it only makes you more sick.

“From now on, you will call me sir as a sign of respect.” Fucking hell, you feel like you're being told off with the way he's leering over you. You're giving him your best puppy eyes, but it isn't hard ‘cause you've been told your whole life you've got expressive eyes. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Comes to you like it's an automatic response, honestly pretty pathetic, but at the same time, you want to live?

Earns you a chuckle from him, sounds pretty attractive because it's one of those deep rumbles. It gives you a gooey feeling in your head. God, you need to get a grip and focus.

“We're going to get along very well, aren't we?” He's got that hopeful look in his eyes and it actually makes you melt inside. The guy is probably depressed, lonely even.

Usually that's why creeps like him would do it, their main motive to feel some sort of semblance. You could almost empathise, but then again, this same guy did kidnap you.

So, you give him the best smile you could conjure up, which was awkward as fuck, and bleated out a meager response of. “I'll try my best,” You paused for a moment, realising you had forgotten a crucial part. “Sir.”

At least you got a head rub for the effort. It reminded you of your dad when you were a kid after doing something that impressed him.

God, you wished you could get out of here.

–

“You need to stop lookin’ at me like that sweetheart, you're making it really hard for me over here y'know.”

Leon's pretty proud of his recent capture. Seemed to have hit the jackpot because you're an obedient little thing. He can tell that you know it's better to play along with his fantasies than call him a freak.

The last girl actually did that, ended up putting a needle through her eye as a warning, alongside a ‘you'd better shut the fuck up about wanting to see your family, otherwise you won't be able to see at all’.

Was a shame really, last girl was probably the prettiest one he got, the rest were all pretty average, much like you.

At least she tasted pretty good from what he's had.

Though your eyes were pretty unique, like when you gave him those puppy eyes earlier, made him want to strangle you or shove your head down his cock.

Leon's unsure about you though. He feels much more content with having you here, but there's still something that's putting him on edge, making him antsy.

Willing to put it aside, despite the fact that his sixth sense is nearly always right. Suppose he's weak for nice looking things.

He'll spoil you at some point, he wants to play dress up with you, wear some of the clothes that he has lying around or maybe some of the clothes he took from his other victim’s home.

Right now though, Leon wants to make sure you stay obedient, which he knew wasn't going to be hard.

He'd just have to fuck you enough for you to be begging for cock.

Maybe he'll take a step further with his little game he has with the police, maybe send off a recording of you taking all the shit he gives you like the whore he's gonna make you.

All these plans he's got actually makes him giddy almost, a smile on his face as he crosses off your name on his list and opens up a special new photo album with your name scrawled on it, and it's already choked full of pictures of you.

Suppose that's what happens when you stalk someone for three months. But he's already got a new one for you that's a light pink colour.

Can't wait to fill it with pictures of you filled with his cum or something dirty as fuck.

–

“You love me too, right? One day, I'll make you my perfect little girl.”

You're sitting with Leon at the dinner table, silently eating as he watches you intently, his whiskey glass in hand and a bottle by his side.

It's been like that for the past three days you've been here. You eat and he watches.

Oh, and you're also naked. Haven't worn any clothes since you got here, and strangely enough, you're used to it by now.

It's actually the only time he doesn't record you as well, which fills you with a bit of happiness, though he's still always looking at you.

It's not been too bad so far, save it for the constant recording.

You thought you might get a limb cut off or something, so you've been on your best behaviour, either not saying a word or meekly responding to his questions.

Today's food is soup. Carrot soup you think, something your Grandma used to make and it was delicious, though now it made you miss home terribly.

Dragging your spoon back and forth, then eating. Leon gave you another head rub when he saw you do that for the first time, ‘cause at least you remembered your table manners.

“You really like the soup, huh?” It's your second bowl admittedly, you're hungry as fuck, much to your surprise.

But then again, you're kinda lucky that you're actually getting fed.

“It reminds me of my Grandmother's soup and- um- it's really tasty, sir.” Better to be honest with him, open up to him about your life so it makes him more attached to you.

Seems he was pleased with that answer though, as he refills his whiskey glass and pushes it to you. “Want some of my drink?”

You're not hesitant anymore when it comes to eating, but drinking is another thing. You've barely had any water, and if you have, you never see him pour it.

With a slight tremble in your hand, you mumble out a ‘yes please’, and slowly drink it.

You'll admit, you're more of a whiskey and coke kind of girl, but it's still a nice feeling on your throat. Smooth, silky even.

“I didn't make the soup.” Oh? Now that's pretty unexpected.

This can either go one of many ways, so you place the glass down slowly and return to your soup, glancing up at him. “Who made it?”

Leon chuckles, and you realise your slight mistake because there's no way he's going to tell you.

The face you pull makes him laugh more it seems, but he lets you off on your mistake. “She's visits every now and then, I keep asking her for a recipe but she always says that I'd fuck it up.”

His voice is laced with tenderness, and for once, you don't feel like you're trapped here against your will. Instead, you just feel like you're talking to a man who needs company.

"You care about her a lot." A simple observation, but you want to make it seem like you're intrigued about his friend. It earns you a huff and a gentle smile at least, but you've got something better up your sleeve.

It's a good thing your Grandma came in clutch for this very moment though, because you've already got the recipe playing out in your head. “I know how to make it.”

“Really?” Leon sounds careful, and the way he looks at you makes you want to sob because he just looks like a kicked puppy. Seriously, what the fuck?

“Yeah- I can um- I can tell you the ingredients if you'd like.” Bingo, you've seemingly hit a soft spot with him, but then again, you're more pleased about the fact he's now full on grinning at you earnestly rather than the fact he's less likely to kill you.

Some empath you were, jesus.

With that thought, you pick up the whiskey glass and down it. Earns a scoff from Leon, like it's a challenge you've just initiated.

You end up having yourself bent over the table, his cock thrusting in and out of you rhythmically as you slurred out moans.

A successful meal, you think, a very successful one.

–

“You look just like her, same smile, same eyes. But I didn't love her like I love you, you'll never be her, but you can be like her.”

Leon loves you. Not in a way where even he'd back away and rethink his life choices, but you're actually a really nice little addition to his home.

Ever since the whole recipe sharing thing, he realises that you actually care about how he feels. Could see it when your eyes lit up at his smile.

He could tell you could make the best out of a bad situation. Especially after your little drinking competition, he couldn't believe that you could hold your liquor better than he thought.

Made you bend over the table and fuck you with an inch of his life as a well done for beating him.

You sounded pretty hot when you were slurring out ‘sir’ to him when he fucked you. That little drawl that you did make him bust his load early and made you come about three times as an extra treat.

Your little act makes sense obviously, you clearly value your life more than his other victims, but it's only been just over a week, so he's not placing any bets yet.

Won't lie though, he's optimistic about you, and that's rare.

He stays a little longer to watch you sleep on that ratty mattress, he's even contemplating on joining you in the shower instead of watching all the time and…

Okay, well, even he'll admit that he's been having some second thoughts about you.

It's more about the fact you look like his dead daughter. The resemblance is almost uncanny. Almost.

Your eyes are the same colour, but yours are more expressive than hers. You've got a crooked smile, whereas hers was a little more perfect around the edges. You also sound a lot more soft spoken, whereas his daughter was brash, snarky and cruel.

Both of you were cute though.

Thing is, Leon is fully aware that the reason he takes girls like you is because they remind him of his daughter.

She was outgoing, never listened to her mother about what she can and can't wear, probably did her fair share of drugs and stuff ‘cause she always came back home high as a kite.

Leon misses her loads though, was his little girl, even after she took her own life.

Even if her death was the reason he was all alone, her mother was quick to pack her bags and move away from him not long after.

Leon thinks she wanted to fix him, like most do, but he was beyond repair, scrap metal. Permanently broken.

A divorce was cheaper than therapy, he always jokes.

He sighs, rubbing his face and itching at his stubble to get his mind off of his shit stain of a now ex-wife, and instead return his attention to what he was doing.

Photos are strewn across the table of you and his daughter, because this revelation of you looking like her has hit him like a brick and he can't help but compare you two.

Eyes scan the photos like a photocopier, remembering all the occasions that the pictures were taken from, but one catches his eye.

It's a picture of his daughter. She's wearing her prom dress that he knows he's got somewhere, he's got his arms around her waist with his hand on her lower back and she's looking at the camera with a big smile on her face.

Yeah, he thinks he'll do this one with you.

But not just yet, he still wants you to warm up to him a little more, despite the fact you take food and drink from him with no hesitation, even from the get go.

Actually asked you about that as well, and wondered why you were so carefree about it. “I figured if you did want to poison my food or something, you would've done it earlier.”

Turns out you're pretty clever too with the answer you gave him. It made him confused at first, got a little weirded out when he thought you knew about the stalking so he asked that next. “You knew about the stalking?”

“Well- when you um- you said you'd been watching m-me er- get off.” Huh, suppose he should've realised that you're one smart cookie sooner.

Guess you also made him realise that he shouldn't underestimate you.

–

“You liked that? Liked the idea of me stalking you, recording you, making you a pin-up girl on my wall? God- what a dirty bitch you are.”

You didn't think you'd find yourself playing fucking dress up with him, but then again, what are you actually meant to expect apart from death?

Maybe he'll make you eat human remains or something rancid.

All these clothes he's laid out for you are almost a perfect fit. You even ask him if he's tailored all these nice clothes for you, but he doesn't respond.

It's been about a couple weeks, and you're getting antsy to be recused. Well, not really.

Other than your possible impending doom, you're enjoying it here. Leon's warmed up to you, that much is obvious.

Yeah okay, he fucks you everyday rather than every other day, but it's a change you're very willing to get used too because he's the best shag ever.

He also joins you for a shower, even lets you wear clothes around the house. But clothes in your terms is more like the nightdress you wore when he took you.

All in all, you haven't done too bad. However, there's certainly been a change in Leon.

He's been the only person you've seen in these couple weeks, so you're pretty familiar with normal Leon, and this is certainly not normal Leon.

He's a lot rougher than usual with you. Now he slaps you during sex when you've done no wrong, or he's more cranky around you.

He gets irritated when you call him sir, which is very new.

Loves it when you have sex though. He whispers in your ear as he spanks your cunt about respect and all that, and all you can spit out is a measly “yes sir- please sir”.

Somehow though, it feels like it's not enough.

Currently, you're putting on the outfit he's laid out for you, which by the way, is one of the prettiest dresses you've ever seen. You'd wear this to a fucking ball dance or something.

Leon's facing away from you, seems like he wants to make it a surprise for himself or something.

Doesn't mean you can't ask questions though.

“Um, sir?” Wow, a pretty weak call out to him. You thought you gained a little more confidence, guess not though.

Leon still doesn't face you, but only hums in response. Turns out he's fiddling with something, but you don't want to know what, so you return to your task in hand.

“Are you going to kill me?” Fuck, you voice cracked harder than your already low ego when someone once called you ugly, but that's a whole other topic.

It seems like you've hit the nail on the head, or completely missed and hit your finger instead because the way Leon flinches is almost comical.

“I- no.” Yeah, nice. Actually, better than you expected, it turns out he must be going through a man period, meriod, maybe going through some heavy PMT or whatever. “I have a request to make actually.”

Oh? Okay, requests you can do. You being kidnapped by this lonely guy was a request, the difference is you're getting paid a fat wad of cash for the trauma this guy may inflict on you.

“Can you-” Dear god, seems like he's as nervous as you about this request, must be something pretty embarrassing. “Can you call me dad?”

What the fuck? Look, calling you sir is one thing, but dad? This guy must be fucked up, but then again, he was reluctant.

Wait- the dress, the pretty clothes, the girls he kidnapped, teddy bears, pictures of a girl that doesn't match any of the victims. All makes sense.

He does all this because he misses his daughter.

Hits you harder than that truck did when it ran over your cat. Tears actually well up in your eyes because what the fuck?

This guy is coping with his grief in the most cynical way ever because he doesn't know how to cope. Tragic, really.

Going off the rails from grief. It all seems familiar.

“Okay, dad.” You don't even hesitate, and you actually hate yourself over it. You shouldn't feel sorry for him, but he's been growing on you like a tumour. “I- I'm done with putting the dress on.”

The way Leon turns around makes you think that a snail's race could've been faster, but the look on his face was worth it.

“You look just like her, sweetheart.”

Me waiting 2 years for any post of a DLC 🤩💛

Now we wait...

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro.

YSIK Masterlist // Next chapter

A Cherry Blossom is a pretty flower, Blooming in the spring and representing renewal and joy. However it is quick to die out in the winter, Shrivelling up with it's beautiful colour following with it. Leaving the memory of it gone yet never forgotten.

The moon shun bright in the obsidian black sky.

The light that came down illuminated a small, yet well kept gravestone.

It was old, Ancient probably, Cracks were illustrated boldly into the corners and wrapped around the granite like spider webs. it seemed it was about to fall apart at the seams, yet held strong.

Flowers of all colour bustled around the bottom, Fresh, Newly planted.

A man sat on his knees in front of the stone, the only motion he made was the light breeze running through his hair, making his ponytail sway in the wind.

This was no man but instead a demon.

All six of his eyes lay transfixed on the carving written dead-centre on the tombstone, Carved with great care and precision to get it just right.

'[F/N] Tsugikuni'

The mans face was stoic and unreadable, but his eyes were filled with great sorrow and regret.

Kokushibo's arm reached out to the stone, Clawed hands tracing over the lettering carved out.

He asked himself

'How did it come to this?'

☆♡☆

"Michi-Nii!"

A young girl in a blue dragon-patterned haori called out from a distance, She could of only been about four or five yet her little legs were fast and let her catch up to her older brother.

Michikatsu turned around, Mildly surprised at his sister's sudden appearance he stopped in his tracks letting her finally reach him.

"[F/N]. I thought I told you to stay at home and help mother today, You know she needs someone to help her out." Michikatsu said, A little white lie.

His mother, While she wasn't in the best condition, Didn't currently need any help and even if she did little [F/N] would not of been able to do much about it. After all, She was still very young.

[F/N] heaved trying to catch her breath from all that running.

"I know Michi-Nii! but I wanted to come watch you fight!" [F/N] said excitedly, A big expecting smile on her face.

Michikatsu looked into [F/N]'s big puppy dog eyes and sighed. He just couldn't resist.

"..Well alright.. But for the record it's not 'fighting' it's sword training, I'm not fighting anyone, Just preparing for the day when I do, When I become a samurai!" Michikatsu said triumphantly.

[F/N] squealed.

"That's so cool! When I'm a big kid I wanna fight with swords and become a sam-u-mai!" She exclaimed.

"Samurai" Michikatsu corrected.

"Samai!" She responded.

"Samurai" Michikatsu said, Extra slowly so [F/N] could pick up the syllables.

"Samrai!" She said with complete confidence.

Michikatsu snorted and ruffled the girls hair, Who laughed in return.

"Nevermind, Let's get a move on then."

☆♡☆

The sun was high in the sky naming afternoon.

[F/N] sat on the grassy hill next to her brother, Yorichii.

They sat together watching Michikatsu over yonder train his sword swings by hitting dummies out in the field. She watched in wonder at his determination and focus to his craft

Yorichii was the middle child of the family, Michikatsu the oldest and [F/N] the youngest.

Yorichii was a mute. Never spoke or made any motion to communicate, However that never stopped [F/N]'s undying attempts of trying to.

This mostly just consisted of [F/N] following him around, Sleeping in his futon when she had a nightmare or just simply talking her little heart out to him, To which he'd always respond with a little smile and a nod, Showing that he was listening.

He was usually a daydreamer, But today he seemed just as transfixed as she was at their older brother's training.

"Yor-Nii, Where are you going?" [F/N] asked as she watched Yorichii wander down the hill towards Michikatsu.

As usual she got no answer, So she got up and followed him down.

Michikatsu was so fixated on his sword swings that he never noticed Yorichii standing behind him.

So when the physics of one of his sword slashes brought him back stumbling into Yorichii that snapped him out of his training fever.

"Yorichii? What is it?" Michikatsu said surprised. His brother had never interfered while he was training

Yorichii stood still and took in a deep breath, He clenched his fists as if bracing for impact. He opened his mouth.

"...I want to be a samurai like you!" Yorichii stammered not only in his speech but also in his stance.

Michikatsu's sword dropped to the ground with a clang!

A shockwave went through both Michikatsu and [F/N], Their brothers first words to them leaving them speechless.

[F/N] however was the first to speak up.

"Yor-Nii! You can speak! Now we can really talk to each other!" She proclaimed excitedly, Making Yorichii wobble when she jumped to hug him.

Michikatsu stood there, It was hard to tell whether he was shocked at Yorichii's sudden speech or the proclamation of his goal which happened to coincide with both his and [F/N]'s.

"Yorichii.." Michikatsu said just above a whisper.

Yorichii looked back at him with a shaky determination, it shook and swayed but despite the odds it stood strong.

Michikatsu's form deflated, Going back to his calm and stoic demeanour.

"Yorichii. You know what will happen when you're ten, Right?" He said quietly, Only hinting at Yorichii's fate as [F/N] had no idea.

Yorichii nodded. Only taking a glance down at [F/N].

"I know. But I still want to be a samurai, I want to be like you." Yorichii said, Still not given up.

[F/N] perked up.

"Me too! I wanna be a.. samurai too! Like Michi-Nii!" She said, Making sure to pronounce 'Samurai' slowly to pronounce the syllables.

"Hey, You got it right" Michikatsu pointed out, Mildly proud.

Yorichii looked down at [F/N] who still was hugging his waist, He smiled.

"Really? All of us want to be swordsmen?" Yorichii asked now a bit more reserved. He scratched the back of his head.

"Swordgirl!" [F/N] said confidently.

"Swordswoman" Both Yorichii and Michikatsu corrected at the same time.

"Swordgirl?"

This will take a while.

☆♡☆

A good few years have passed since then.

The five-year old little girl [F/N] had grown into a blossoming young woman and is now a little younger than her big brothers were back then.

She still wore a resized version of her blue dragon-patterned haori, The only thing that really stayed the same and came with her through her walk of life.

"You know [F/N], I could convince your father to buy you a new haori" Akeno Tsugikuni, Her mother said to her while running a needle through her haori, resizing the fabric to fit [F/N]'s bigger self.

"This is about the fifth time I've had to refit this old thing. I'm sure your dad would prefer you to have a new one, You are coming up on marriage age after all" She softly spoke to [F/N], But her eyes were fixed on the fabric, Stitching with care.

[F/N] shook her head nonchalantly.

"No, Mom. This was a gift from you, It was homemade. You can't just buy that kind of thing from a tailor." She huffed.

[F/N] sat on the edge of her mothers sick-bed, Her mother laid propped up so she could

Akeno smiled.

"Besides, I don't even think I'd want to get married. I like how my life is right now and you know I still want to be an onna-musha, right?" [F/N] said.

True, Even after all these years [F/N] still held onto the goal of becoming a Female samurai, An onna-musha.

However it seemed like a pipe-dream. With her father's influence and strength she had never picked up a sword, No matter how hard or surreptitiously tried to steal or borrow one of her brothers swords she was always caught in the end and given a right punishment for it.

Still, This never changed her mind on the matter.

"I see... Still haven't given up on that dream, have you?" She hummed.

"Well anyways, If you're so invested into my own sowing then maybe-" Akeno broke out into a fit of coughs, She dropped the needle in favour of covering her mouth.

[F/N] quickly rushed over to her side.

"Mom? Mom, Are you alright" She said, Lightly patting her mothers back.

Akeno stopped sputtering out coughs but still softly wheezed during breaths.

"I'm.. Fine, Sweetheart" She spoke, However her hoarse throat said otherwise.

"No, You're not! You don't need to fix my haori, We can continue later but right now you should lay down." [F/N] worried.

Akeno shook her head.

"I said I'm alright but.. could you go fetch me.. Some water?" She breathed heavily as if all the air around her had thinned.

[F/N] quickly nodded and rushed out the room to complete the task.

She swiftly opened the shoji doors to her house and made her way over to the water-well sat upon the hill. She hoped to the gods above that the well hadn't dried up in the early summer heat.

She reached the small little well and peered inside, The water in the well was plentiful. [F/N] sighed in relief and proceeded to wheel the bucket on the rope down the stony passageway.

CLASH!

[F/N] jumped at the sound, Letting the rope slip from her grasp she watched the bucket fall from its steady pace and hit the water with a loud splash!

"No!" [F/N] yelled. The well was too far down for her to reach the bucket. She cried out in frustration and looked over at the source of noise that dominoed the bucket falling.

Over in the valley beyond the hill was Michikatsu, Still out training with his sword. It was fairly early in the morning and judging by the sweat-beads on his face and the mess of his clothes [F/N] could tell he's been up training since six at least.

That's right, Along with her, Michikatsu had changed as well.

From the strong yet stoic young man that [F/N] had grown up with he had festered into a more strength obsessed yet quiet young man than what he had been before.

[F/N] knew the catalyst well, He was her brother after all.

Yorichii from that day he proclaimed his want to be a samurai, Had demonstrated an inhuman talent for the skill. A man who was working with their father had humoured Yorichii and decided to teach him a basic stance.

However to everyone's surprise, Yorichii had landed four blows on the man and swiftly defeated him. Which is something that Michikatsu never could.

From then on Michikatsu grew a bit darker, Maybe not noticeably. Not noticeable from her father, mother or even Yorichii. But [F/N] could tell.

She barely saw him anymore, Well it was more of she never talked to him anymore. She still watched him train, at least from afar.

An idea clicked in her head.

The bucket in the well was too far down for her to reach, Yes. However it wasn't too far for Michikatsu who was a foot taller than her.

She walked down the hill, Calling out for him.

"Michi-Nii!" She called out to him.

Michikatsu stopped swinging his sword and turned around to look at his little sister with an annoyed scowl on his face.

"What? Can't you see I'm a bit busy at the moment" Michikatsu hissed.

[F/N] froze for a moment.

"I just need a little help, the bucket in the well fell into the water" She explained softly, Scared to entice her brothers wrath.

Michikatsu groaned.

"Alright." He said simply and quickly headed over to the well. [F/N] followed after, Smiling.

"Thank you, Michi-Nii!" She said thankfully.

[F/N] grabbed onto his hand to hold it, But she was shaken off by Michikatsu.

"I told you to stop calling me that, It's stupid and childish" He said, grimacing.

[F/N]'s smile was put out like a light, But she nodded. Trying to respect his wishes.

They got to the well and Michikatsu fished out the bucket with ease and handed it over to [F/N] who bowed down in thanks but with much less emotion put into it.

With that, Michikatsu walked away without a goodbye. Off to go and continue training for the rest of the day and coming back home in the dead of night, Just to go to sleep and repeat the process over and over again.

[F/N] frowned but took the bucket of water back to the house.

Sliding open the Shoji doors she entered the house, remarkably more downtrodden than before.

As she walked the halls towards her mothers room she heard two voices arguing in a hushed tone.

"She doesn't want to get married."

"Too bad. She's coming upon marriage age and if she doesn't want to disrespect this family she will do as she's told and marry the man we've picked out for her"

The two voices, Her mother and father.

She slipped quietly behind the half-open shoji door, Intently listening in on their conversation

"She want's to be an onna-musha, You know." Her mother admitted.

"An onna-musha. Really." Her father responded, A tone full of disgusted shock ran through his voice.

"That girl is too weak to even tend to the horses. Not to mention the girl's only worth will be to marry her off to a nobleman. Her being a samurai along with the men would just be wrong" He said.

There was a silence not just between [F/N]'s parents, But her too.

She's known her father hadn't particularly paid attention to her nor did he show any affection but to think he thought this lowly of her was a gut punch to the stomach.

"Don't say that, Akuhei. She could be listening" Her mother said in a whisper.

"I hope she is. She needs to learn the truth sooner or later or she'll grow up and be delusional to the real world."

[F/N] let tears flow from her cheeks, Dripping down onto the floor.

If she couldn't even get a bucket out from a well, Could she really be a swordswoman?

☆♡☆

Something wasn't right.

It had been a good few hours after [F/N] had eavesdropped on her parents conversation and it had fallen into night-time.

[F/N] had long gone to bed but she wasn't able to fallen asleep easy. It was strange, No matter the situation she had always had no issue with falling into unconciousness.

She rolled and scuffled around on her futon uncomfortably. Could it of been the conversation earlier? No. Couldn't be that, It was something else.

[F/N] rubbed her eyes and got up from her futon. She shuffled on her sandals and quickly draped her newly-sized blue dragon haori around her figure for warmth.

She decided to go for a walk to clear her head.

[F/N] walked softly in the darkened hallways of her home, The soft moonlight illuminated her pathway through the house. She was lost in her own thoughts from the events of the day.

Her father's words, Michikatsu's attitude, Her mother's illness. It all swirled in her mind like a hurricane.

"..I like my life how it is right now"

The words she had told her mother. A lie.

She hated how everything was right now. Her dad saw her as an object to be bid on. Michikatsu acted like she was nothing but a burden to him and Yorichii was nowhere to be found.

Besides, Even if Yorichii and Michikatsu weren't talking either they were obviously the more important in the family.

They were the Sun and the Moon, Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi.

[F/N] wasn't a celestial deity or a celestial body, She was just the terrestrial afterthought. Yorichii and Michikatsu were both skilled and talented in their own rights, They were fawned over by the girls and even some of the boys in the village. They were praised and respected.

[F/N] wasn't even allowed to leave the house.

Now that she thought about it, There was only was her and her mother.

Her mother.

While walking she had stopped in her tracks. Light shone in through the hallway from an open door.

Her mother's door.

[F/N]'s brow quirked. Was her mother up this late as well? She should be asleep, She was very ill after all.

[F/N] peeked through the doorway, Her eyes widened.

Yorichii stood over the bed, Her mother layed motionlessly on the bed.

"Yor-Nii?" [F/N] asked.

Yorichii turned around, A strained look in his eyes. His jaw stood locked tight as if there was something painful he had to say.

"Mother has passed on" Yorichii whispered.

What?

No, No. No no no no no. That couldn't be right, No. It couldn't be right.

[F/N] stumbled over to her mother, Shoving Yorichii out of the way to whom backed off.

"Mum, Mum. Wake up, Hey. Hey, Do you hear me?" [F/N] cried, She grasped onto her mother's limp hand, She shook it in futile attempt to wake her.

"Mum you can't, Mum please." Tears started rolling down her cheeks now, Her breathing laboured.

"Yorichii, Please did you try-"

She turned around, Yorichii was nowhere to be seen.

He had left.

He had left and hadn't even bothered to try and comfort her.

She stared in shock, Not believing her situation

She was brought back by a hand squeezing her own.

She snapped her head back down to her mother, Whose eyes lain weakly on [F/N]'s. A soft yet painful smile appeared on her face.

"Mum!" [F/N] choked.

"[F/N]..." Akeno whispered. "Come closer.."

[F/N] Nodded and leant down closer to her mother, Kneeling down now to listen closely. Her eyes never leaving her mothers

"I never wanted to be married... My father had sold me off at a young age as well." Akeno started.

"I had a chance.. Once.. To leave this place, To get out of my marriage but do you know what happened?" She asked, Looking mournfully into the eyes of her youngest, Who was now choking on her sobs and tears rushing out from her eyes.

Akeno didn't wait for an answer

"I didn't take it.. I was too afraid." A sad smile came upon her.

"My life had ended right there since I never took that chance.. And the only good thing to ever happen after that... were you three."

"[F/N].. Yorichii.. Michikatsu. My beautiful children" Akeno let tears roll down her face now, Reminiscing on her life that was flashing before her now.

"Please.. You now have a chance. Get away while you still can.." Her other hand wiped the tears off of [F/N]'s face weakly, However her hand started to fall.

"Run.. and I promise I will see you again, The kami will reunite us... I love you, [F/N]" She whispered, Her hand falling to her side and the others grip becoming limp. The light in her eyes fading.

"Mum... Mum! No! no no!" [F/N] sobbed, Shaking her mothers now lifeless corpse she collapsed to the floor and cried out for her mum to come back, to speak to her.

"Run, You still have your chance"

Her mothers voice rang in her head, It echoed throughout her entire being.

And with love and tears, She kissed her mother on the forehead and closed her dead eyes. Akeno's face displayed rest, peace.

She said her final goodbye's to her mother and left the room to go back to her own.

And with a heavy heart and a rucksack full of essentials, She climbed out her rooms window and left in the dead of night.

☆♡☆

[F/N] trudged through the woodlands.

It was now daybreak, The sun rose upon the distance and shown through cracks in the tree's.

Through all that time [F/N] never stopped walking, Never took a break. The only thing on her mind was escape to a better place.

It was only once she appeared upon a clearing did she stop walking.

In front of her was a rundown Shinto shrine placed upon the mountainy and rocky terrain of the woods.

It had obvious that people hadn't been here in decades by the dust, cobwebs and poor conditions of all the archways and cracked stone lanterns lining the pathway up to the shrine entrance.

Back in it's heyday it would of been grand. A massive shrine that could of held a good few hundred people, As there was a large amount of corridors and a second floor.

Not to mention the vast courtyard [F/N] now found herself standing in.

She breathed in the highland forest air, Took in the birds chirping and the warm light of the sun on her skin.

She looked upon the sign hanging from the archway.

"Inari Ōkami"

The kami of Foxes, Agriculture, Fertility, Tea, Sake and Swordsmiths.

[F/N] frowned at the state of the shrine, Thinking of it as a great disrespect to Inari.

Another thought ran through her mind.

Home. A rundown one for sure, But nothing she couldn't fix.

And that's what she did.

For the next ten years that's what [F/N] did. She fixed the Archways, Refilled the stone lamps, Rebuilt the structuring, Cleaned up the cobwebs and dust all until it looked newly built.

Everyday since she came across it she would give offerings to Inari Ōkami. Ranging from nuts and fruit she would pick up while scavenging to Flowers and pieces of jewellery.

She'd light candles in their honour, Pray to them not for good fortune but for the reformation of the shrine.

She'd grown attached to the shrine, So much so that she had completely forgotten her goal of becoming a swordswoman in favour of being the sole shrine-maiden.

And in that time she had finally bloomed into a beautiful young woman and if anyone should come across her they would describe her as such.

Not that anyone came along though, The shrine was in the middle of nowhere and [F/N] had seen no one in the past decade.

As [F/N] got up for another day to tend to the shrine she wondered what her brothers were doing now.

☆♡☆

[F/N] carried her basket full of fruits, Satisfied from a successful scavenge.

She headed back up towards the large archway that was there to greet people into the temple. It use to be covered in splintered wood but thanks to the efforts of [F/N] the archway was restored with a fresh coat of paint and smoothing of the wood.

When she got up there she stopped, Her eyes widened.

The massive wooden doors to the thick stone wall gate were left wide open.

She was sure she had closed them when she had left.

Her body stiffened and her palms became sweaty.

Who could be in her shrine? Nobody came up the mountains and the nearest village was a good few dozen kilometres away on the far other side of the forest. No one who was just wandering could come across the temple.

[F/N] slowly put the basket of fruit onto the ground, Making sure not to make a sound.

She unsheated her Kaiken from her obi and slowly made her way inside to the courtyard, Which seemed empty.

But she looked upon the main building and just like the gate doors the shoji to the main building were left wide open.

[F/N] confirmed her suspicions. Someone was definetly here.

She made her way inside, Checking the main hallways she found no one around however that never made [F/N] let down her guard.

THUMP!

[F/N] flinched. The sound of an object knocking over came from just down the hall she was facing. Gripping her Kaiken tighter she moved forward towards the sounds

As she got closer, She heard a duo of voices arguing.

"Stop moving, Brother."

"Argh, If you'd let me do it by myself this would go much faster."

"No. You're injured, let me do it."

Wait..

"I'm told you I'm fine. It's just a cut."

Those voices..

[F/N] lowered her Kaiken. She stood, legs shaking. Heart pounding as she slowly called out.

"Michi-Nii? Yori-Nii?"

A sudden shuffling was heard in the room across from her.

The semi-shut shoji doors slammed open and out first came Michikatsu, Who had a semi-wrapped bandage around his arm with Yorichii following close after.

They were in their twenties now and were much older and their faces had changed a lot. But no matter how much they had physically changed [F/N] recognised her brothers, Who both now had surprised yet unrecognisable expressions in their face.

[F/N]'s mouth was open, Her eyes wide and sparkling with recognition.

"[F/N]..." Yorichii said.

"Yori-Nii! Michi-Ni-" She was cut off by the sudden arms pulling her into a tight hug. Michikatsu had moved so fast that she didn't see him move.

"[F/N].." He stuttered, Swaying back and forth while hugging her.

"Nii-san.." [F/N] cried, Gripping the back of his purple hexagonal hakama tightly as she buried her head into the side of his neck.

"You've grown so much.. And look at that" [F/N] grazed the hilt of of his sword, taking in the craftsmenship.

"You've both become swordsmen. I'm so proud, I wish I could've been there to see your ceremony" She whispered.

Michikatsu never responded to her words, instead going into a speech of his own.

"[F/N].. I lost you. You disappeared out of nowhere.. I searched for you for years.." Michikatsu was lost for words. If [F/N] didn't know better she could of sworn he was crying.

"I'm sorry, Michi-Nii. I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I went" [F/N] whispered.

The bear hug grip on her got tighter.

"Never. And I mean never leave me again. You have no idea what you put me through... You better promise" He scolded. [F/N] nodded vigorously.

"I promise."

☆♡☆

"So this is where you've been living for the past ten years?" Michikatsu asked, Looking around the haiden.

The place was a massive hall dedicated to worship of Inari. at the very end was the main worship shrine, Which was bustling with hand-woven straw baskets filled with offerings and lit candles in Inari's honour.

"Yeah.. When I ran away ten years I came across this place and made it my home. Been like that ever since." [F/N] smiled, Proud of the hall.

It was indeed very pretty, The new refurbished decorations of flowers, candles and banner-work created a grandiose appearance. The wooden pillars supported the tall height of the room and had beams at the top connecting them all with baskets filled with flowers hanging from them.

The entire room looked like it was built and cared for by an entire team of shrine maidens, Not a single dust spot to be seen.

Yorichii and Michikatsu stared in awe at the work.

"And you maintained this place all by yourself?" Yorichii asked, Genuinely in wonder at the décor.

"Well.. Apart from the occasional seller I meet when I'm scavenging for food nearest the road.. They sell me candles, Banners and other things needed for maintenance.. It's all done by me." [F/N] explained.

"It's.. Impressive. To think how you learned all this.." Michikatsu said.

"I get all my information from the shrine's library, From then on you figure it out on the way." [F/N] responded, Completely humble to the praise she received.

She turned around to her brothers with a smile.

"What about you two? Tell me what's been happening, And how'd you get that cut?" She asked innocently, Pointing to Michikatsu's bandaged arms

The two twins looked at each other, Having a silent conversation with each other. Contemplating what they should tell. Both of them very apprehensive, they shared a knowing look between them.

[F/N] frowned.

"..Is it not something you want to tell me?" She asked.

"Well.. It's hard to believe but-" Yorichii started.

"It’s just a mistake from sword training. Don't you worry about it." Michikatsu finished.

Yorichii looked over at him, Surprised at his sudden interruption.

[F/N]'s eyes narrowed. She felt curious but decided to drop the subject.

"Well anyways.. I need to go retrieve my fruit basket from outside and do my morning rounds around the shrine. Feel free to have a look around, Just please don't touch anything " [F/N] said, bowing her head low and heading towards the exit.

"Hold on, I'll come with you" Michikatsu said, He went to follow after his sister but was stopped when a hand pulled him back.

"Go on ahead, [F/N]. Michikatsu-Nii will catch up." Yorichii said. [F/N] nodded.

She said goodbye in the form of a hug, Michikatsu then Yorichii.

Michikatsu shot Yorichii a scorning look.

"What do you want?" Michikatsu hissed, The usual irritation of his brother turned up a notch.

"We need to tell her, Nii-san. So we can help her set up wisteria around the place." Yorichii argued.

Michikatsu gritted his teeth.

"Wisteria would be a good idea. But we don't need to tell her about demons, I mean look at her! She's still young" Michikatsu said, exasperated.

"She's eighteen, Nii-san. More than old enough to know about demons, about how to protect herself." Yorichii countered.

"She won't need to learn how to protect herself If I'm there to do it for her" Michikatsu hissed.

Yorichii's face scrunched up. He took a step forward towards Michikatsu and stood steady.

"Nii-san, I know you and [F/N] were attached by the hip when she was young but you can't always be there for her, She's strong enough to survive on her own but not strong enough to survive a possible demon attack, So we need to inform her. She won't let us plant wisteria around the shrine without a very good reason " Yorichii argued, His point stood stronger than he did.

Michikatsu's teeth gritted and his face was a visage of concealed anger like they were standing in the eye of the storm waiting for the inevitable onslaught.

"You always need to know better, Don't you Yorichii?" Michikatsu spat in a low tone.

Yorichii was surprised at Michikatsu's sudden animosity towards him, He was confused. This had never happened before.

"What do you mean to imply by that, Nii-san?" Yorichii asked, Slight worry coming over him for his brother who seemed restless.

Michikatsu suddenly became aware of his sudden outburst, His shoulders dropped from their previously stiff position. He sighed.

"Nothing... I shouldn't of spoke out like that." Michikatsu said, Quickly bowing his head to Yorichii he began to leave the shrine hall.

"Where are you going?" Yorichii called after him.

"To go find [F/N]. And make sure she's alright" He responded, Leaving the hall in search of his little sister.

☆♡☆

Michikatsu looked around the shrine for [F/N].

He walked the halls, checked the empty rooms, searched the courtyard, looked around the perimeter of the shrine and scoured through the shrine's impressively large and overflowing gardens but turned up empty.

He was frustrated. Where could she be? The forest surrounding the temple was fairly thick and shading and who knows? A demon might of been able to cover itself in the foliage and maybe she had left the shrine to pick up her basket only to come face to face with the monster and-

Michikatsu couldn't think anymore about it.

Sweat beads started forming on his head, What if she ran away? She couldn't, she sworn to him that she'd never leave him again. She couldn't of done that to him! What if she wasn't happy to see him and took the chance to leave while he was being lectured by Yorichii?

Yorichii.

Did she favour him over Michikatsu? When you were hugging him to say goodbye he could of sworn you had hugged Yorichii just a little bit tighter than him, Smiled a little bigger, Looked a little happier.

As he searched the halls for a second time he felt another burst of envy rise up in him, Something that had been occurring more and more lately.

His thoughts stopped when he stepped on an uneven dip in the ground. He felt around with his foot and outlined a frame of sorts.

He looked down to see he was standing on a rug. He then looked up realising that he was at the end of the hallway.

He reached down and pulled away the rug revealing a trapdoor, Assumedly leading down to the basement of the shrine.

A basement? Shrines don't usually have basements, He thought to himself.

He noticed the padlock on the handle was unlocked It was also spotless without a trace of dust, Indicating that it was used often.

He opened the door with a small creak of the wood. It revealed a short stone staircase which lead down to a low-ceiling hallway.

Michikatsu raised an eyebrow. He looked left and right before going down the stairs slowly. One step at a time.

He got down to the bottom of the stairs. The ceiling was certainly low as it grazed the top of Michikatsu's head making him feel uncomfortable in the small passageway.

He walked along the tunnel, each of his footsteps producing a faint echo as he went along. The tunnel was comparably cold to the early summer heat from up top.

At the end of the passageway was a wooden door, It looked old and rigid. Looking at the rest of the shrine this was a surprise for Michikatsu as the rest of it was pristine and in perfect shape compared to the derelict looking door.

He reached the door which he now realised was opened just a slight amount.

He pressed his ear to the door, Listening intently.

The sound of cloth on metal sounded on the other side. It was a sound he recognised well, It was polishing of a sword.

He pushed the door open to find [F/N] sitting on her knees with a strange looking sword in hand, a dry cloth in the other.

"Michi-Nii!" [F/N] jumped in surprise and dropped the cloth.

She sat in a much wider room than the hallway. The stone walls were filled with holding frames and shelves, The majority of them empty but still a good few holding rather precious looking trinkets.

At the end of the room which was facing the door and [F/N] held a sort of table harbouring a headpiece stand, Which was obviously suppose to hold the sword in her hands. It was also home to a kitsune mask hanging above it with eyes that looked like it was staring right through him.

"How'd you find the room?" [F/N] said rather surprised.

"Never mind how I found it. Why are you here?" He asked sternly, As if he was scorning a misbehaving child.

"Why am I in a room inside my own shrine?" [F/N] scoffed lightly.

"More of why didn't you tell me where you were, I was worried and I couldn't find you anywhere." He asked more forceful in tone.

[F/N] seemed confused at his reasoning but chalked it up to him still being a little shaken by their reunion.

"...I'm sorry... Coming in here to tend to the artefacts here is apart of my weekly rounds." She explained. A meek look appearing on her face.

Michikatsu sighed.

"Alright then. But please, Tell me next time you wander off into some hidden basement." He said in a softer voice leading to [F/N] calming down.

"What is this room anyways?" Michikatsu asked, Examining the room.

[F/N] peaked up, A sparkle of excitement in her eyes.

"Oh! Well according to the blueprints and builders logs I've found in the library this room was specially built to hold the shrine's treasures. Oh! Wait, hold on!" [F/N] exclaimed.

She reached over to the table in front of her and pulled out a fairly tiny roll of parchment paper, Unfolding it she displayed it to Michikatsu who looked down reading it.

"Apparently one of the noble-clanswoman paying for the building of the shrine here had a really steamy affair with some hot-shot samurai who use to gift her a TON of gifts" [F/N] explained with a passion, Her eyes held a glint of story.

"So to hide them away from her husband she built this little hidey-hole so he wouldn't discover them" She finished.

"What happened to her?" Michikatsu asked, Entertaining her passion.

She only shrugged though.

"No clue, The rest of the parchment was torn and I haven't found the other half..." She said, Disappointment filling her voice.

Michikatsu nodded and looked towards the sword in [F/N]'s lap.

"I can understand the other little objects around here but a sword?" Michikatsu said dumfounded.

[F/N] shook her head.

"No! No. The only two items in the room that weren't a gift was this sword and the kitsune mask hanging over there" She said, Pointing towards the kitsune mask hung by rope.

"Then what are they doing here?"

"They're the shintai that were suppose to be worshipped here at the shrine." [F/N] stretched over and tugged the hanging mask off the rope and presented both it and the sword to Michikatsu, Signalling him to take it.

As he did she told him to be careful while holding them.

The sword was nothing similar to any Katana he's wielded, Nor was it like anything he'd seen in the country. Instead it was built like a very large medieval English sword with the only hint of Japanese influence being the blue hilt which resembled the typical katana.

One side of the sharpened blade was covered in a sort of second sharper metal which glimmered azure in the dim light of the room.

The mask however was oddly designed compared to the usual festival mask. It was made of porcelain and its eyes were carved in a sort of wide eyed stare, The whites of it being a dark black and the pupils sapphire.

Thick cerulean marks adorned the mask, Swirling around the mask and centring at the bullseye of the mask. Except for the ears which were deeply patterned with swirls and flower-esque designs culminating at the covered tips.

The two items radiated a sort of energy from both which Michikatsu couldn't place.

"They're twin artefacts. It's said in the shrines folklore that they belonged to Inari Okami themselves gifted to them by their father, Izanagi. And from the heavens above they dropped them on accident and both the sword and the mask fell to here, The mortal realm" She explained with low wonder.

"The sword is named very bluntly as "The Soul Sword". It's called that because it's said by the previous shrine maidens that when a person is killed by the blade the soul of the person is absorbed into it and prevented from passing onto the afterlife. An eternity in the blade." She told as if it was rehearsed, It probably was.

She pointed to the Mask

"The mask however isn't named but it's said to warp the body of the user to their desire, Disguising themselves completely." She said.

"And does it work?" Michikatsu asked, Studying the mask.

"Haven't tried. It's a sacred artefact of the shrine. It would be a disrespect to Inari if I did." She stated.

Michikatsu examined both of the artefacts as [F/N] rambled away on the tale of the two, They were very well kept.

"You really know a lot about this stuff. Don't you?" He said more of to himself.

[F/N] nodded.

"Yeah. I guess it's just something I'm passionate about" She muttered.

Suddenly, Their conversation was interrupted by a voice upstairs calling out.

"Nii-San! [F/N]!" Yorichii called out from up above them, Voice faint and muffled from the thick stone walls.

Michikatsu groaned being mildly annoyed at being interrupted by Yorichii. [F/N] perked up however.

"That's Yorichii. Better go see what he needs!" She said. [F/N] grabbed both the sword and the mask from Michikatsu's grasp and settling them back with care onto their designed positions, As well as rolling up the parchment paper and putting it under the table

She dusted off her beryl coloured haori and got up from the tatami mat she was sitting on.

"Come on, Better not keep him waiting!" [F/N] said making her way out without waiting for Michikatsu, Who quickly followed after.

They made their way back up the stairs to find Yorichii a few metre's down the hall. He was standing there watching them come up with an arm stretched out, A crow perched neatly on it with a small roll of parchment paper tied to its neck by a string.

"What is it, Yorichii?" Michikatsu asked eyeing the crow.

"Oyataka-sama has summoned us to the headquarters, Urgent meeting." Yorichii said, a tint of unhappiness in his voice.

Michikatsu's face scrunched up in resentment, Obviously not excited by the news.

[F/N] frowned.

"..You've got to leave?" She asked looking up at Michikatsu who looked back with her with an expression saying that he didn't want to. But Yorichii's voice maintained importance.

"..I suppose so.." He said reluctantly. Not wanting to leave his sister alone. His eyes expanded with an idea formed in his head.

"Why don't you come with us, [F/N]?" Michikatsu asked going to stand next to Yorichii. The crow once perched on his arm squawked once. And with a flap of its wings it took off out an ajar window.

[F/N]'s palms suddenly got sweaty at the thought. Her shoulders felt heavy and slumped down with her face portraying one of heavy adversion

She shook her head, Michikatsu's face fell.

"It's not a long trip if that's what you're worried about, If you get tired we can get a horse or I could carry you-" Michikatsu was cut off by [F/N]'s hum of disapproval.

"It's not the trip. It's just I really don't want to leave the shrine unattended y'know?" She asserted. Evidently after spending an entire decade in it's walls she had grown dependant and attached so much to the point she couldn't journey far out of it.

"You can leave the shrine for a few days. Just please come with us, It'll be fine." Michikatsu reasoned, a small ounce of anxiety rising up into his chest at the thought of her being left.

[F/N] shook her head again.

"No, I'm sorry. But it's not forever, You can still come visit!" She spouted in an asking tone, Waiting for him to confirm.

Michikatsu shared a look with Yorichii. Yorichii's look told him he agreed with their sister while Michikatsu's only told of aversion.

However feeling outnumbered in the situation he reluctantly sighed and agreed to [F/N]'s proposal.

With a heavy heart and bag of food [F/N] prepared for their journey, Michikatsu spared one last look to see her before heading out into the forest.

☆♡☆

In the five months that passed from that day forward were probably the happiest days of [F/N]'s life.

Every few days her brothers would come and visit her at the shrine after a mission and they'd stay for around two days before the crow came along and the process started all over again.

She'd even arranged them their own little rooms and the crow would come in advance to announce their arrival so she could prepare them food.

It was nice to be reunited with her family after a decade of solitude. The routine they got into was nice and became sort of domestic.

Though, Over the months [F/N] couldn't help but notice a sort of tension between Michikatsu and Yorichii however it was one-sided. Only Michikatsu initiated it while Yorichii was none the wiser.

It seemed more aggressive as the months went on. Michikatsu focused more on his training similar to what he did when they were younger. He'd have more hostility towards Yorichii and weirdest of all he seemed much more clingy and possessive towards her.

However [F/N] didn't like to think of it. While she knew it was there and she knew they'd have to talk about it at some point, She decided that it'd be better to wait for the right time to bring it up.

Everyday [F/N] would get up at around seven in the morning to do her rounds, Collect food and pray to Inari for an hour or two before going out to the main wooden shrine steps to sit and wait for her brothers to return.

When they did they would eat together, They'd tell stories of their mission no matter how surface level and vague they described it. They'd train outside in the courtyard while [F/N] watched from the steps in awe at their skill.

She recalled back to her childhood and her dream of becoming a samurai like her brothers, While it was true she now favoured the shrine over that old fairy-tale it didn't mean that she still didn't ponder over it often, Daydream while she brushed the floors, Envision the swing of a sword when she spun the brush around.

However of course, It was just a pipe dream. Just a silly pipe dream. But often she asked herself: Why not both?

[F/N] watched Michikatsu from the steps as he practiced sword swings in the shrine courtyard, Taking occasional glances at his sister to make sure she was watching him. The thought ran throughout her head. While she hadn't picked up a sword before other than The Soul Sword (Which at times, She lightly swung it around before setting it down. Then right after feeling ashamed for using a sacred artefact she proceeded to pray for forgiveness at the altar)

She was sure she could try.

While Michikatsu was swinging his sword she had got up from the step with a stumble. She wobbled a little and grabbed the handle bars to steady herself.

She took a deep breath and slowly walked down the stairs which suddenly seemed like a herculean task.

She set her sandal-covered feet onto the courtyard with an unnecessary effort and started walking towards Michikatsu who was only a few metre's ahead of her.

With every step she took her body seemed to get heavier. It felt like weights were being tied to her ankles every time she lifted her foot.

The distance seemed to widen between her and her brother. Her eyelids seemed to get heavier too.

And with another single undignified step her knees collapsed on her. She fell down to the floor with a thump! as her body relaxed and crumpled over on the ground.

Her eyes got blurry as she saw Michikatsu rush over to her tired body and listened to him shout out something she couldn't hear

She closed her eyes and untensed her body. Falling into the pitch black void of unconciousness.

☆♡☆

[F/N] lay motionless in her bed.

A wet cloth lay over her forehead and a light blanket was lain on top of her.

It was two months since that day she collapsed. She was carried by Michikatsu and was rushed to the nearest village where she was seen by a doctor who gave her the diagnosis.

It was her mothers illness, Turning out to be hereditary and passed down onto [F/N]. However this seemed to be more severe and had developed into later stages quickly.

The doctor had said that she should be put in bedrest but despite Michikatsu's yelling and paranoid yelling there was no cure.

The first few days consisted of Michikatsu being hunched over her bed refusing to leave her side. Over the two months he had grown even worse than he did before.

He was angry before. Competitive, Hostile, Aggressive you name it. But now?

Now he was paranoid, Jumpy, Clingy piled on with all of those traits before.

Yorichii couldn't get through to him, He didn't hide his ire towards Yorichii now and hissed insults at him whenever he tried to speak to Michikatsu.

The first month was Michikatsu searching for a cure. He'd travel from village to village trying to find a doctor who could cure [F/N]. He scoured the Shrine's libraries and had gone mad trying.

Four days ago he had told [F/N] that he was going out again and that she was not to leave her bed unless she was going to get food or do her prayers, Which [F/N] had begged to be allowed.

He had stocked up enough food and water in the pantry for his trip when he left.

He told her that he would be back in two days, It was four now. Yorichii had been with her the first month but after he was called out on a very important mission he never came back.

When she asked Michikatsu what happened to him, He wouldn't tell her.

To say [F/N] was worried was an understatement. Michikatsu was never late, He'd always sent his crow to let her know even if he was.

Suddenly she was aware of a loud creaking. The main shrine gates.

Michikatsu must be back, [F/N] thought. A rush of excitement ran through her and overpowered the cold sweat of her sickness.

She'd gotten up from her futon and wrapped herself in her blanket to prevent the cold winter air from bothering her too much.

It was snowing outside. A blizzard had grown strong while she had slept earlier. Before when she was well in the health department she had prepared well for the winter and could survive during it, Making the inside of the shrine warm all throughout the season.

Now however that she depended on her brothers who were nowhere to be found the cold permeated the hallways and stung the tips of her fingers and nose.

She shivered and slid open the shoji doors to hobble through the hallways towards the courtyard, Ready to greet Michikatsu.

However when she quietly opened the door she wasn't greeted by Michikatsu. But instead two strange men with swords standing in the snowstorm. who hadn't seem to notice her yet

"This is it? Seems rundown." One of the men said

"According to his crow this is where he has been staying for the past few months. He must be here, Someone must pay for what he did and hiding here won't prevent what's coming to him." The other growled, Anger etched onto his features.

[F/N], A little insulted at her shrine being called run down, Made herself known by letting out a loud cough.

"Who are you? And what are you doing at my shrine?" The girl asked

The two looked up at the source. Their hands jumped to their sheathed swords as they looked up at her in antagonism.

They slowly approached her, So much so that they were now standing under the wooden porch roof.

[F/N] stumbled back in a way of getting distance between her and the men.

The one that called her shrine rundown stepped forward. He bowed down in respect to her.

"Greetings there. We're sorry to trouble you but we're looking for a man. His name is Yorichii Tsugikuni. He wears hanafuda earing's and his hair in a ponytail. Have you seen him anywhere?" He said.

Swords. Right. These must be Yorichii's colleagues. [F/N] relaxed slightly.

"Oh, You two must be his co-workers!" She exclaimed, Relief flooding her system.

She curtsied in respect.

"My name is [F/N] Tsugikuni. I am his younger sister, Unfortunately I haven't seen him for a month or two and I don't know where he's been. Apologies." I sighed.

The two men looked at each other.

"Sister? You're his sister?" The angrier one said, A hint of hostility in his voice.

Suddenly a chill ran up her spine, Something was wrong.

"Uhm.. Yes." [F/N] said with caution. Though she was tempted to lie, It just wasn't in her nature.

The angrier man now referred to as Man A gripped the hilt of his sheathed sword tighter.

"Well. I don't know if you know this but two months ago your brother... Messed up, Per se. Causing a great loss towards the demon corps..." He said. His words implied something unknown to [F/N]. The corners of her lips twitched. Demon corps? Messed up? The meaning eluding her.

"A lot of people got hurt. Including our father." Man A sneered. His face the exact visage of vengeance.

Man B behind him wasn't as such but still held a face of stone.

The realisation of what was happening hit [F/N] like a freight train. Her hands grew sweaty as they quickly rushed the shoji doors.

"I... I am so sorry to hear that. B-But unfortunately my brother isn't here right now... I've got to go tend to the haiden. Please, Come back later." Her voice trembled and shook despite how much she tried to keep her tone steady and confident.

As her hands tried to quickly shut the shoji doors the metal of a sword stopped the doors from opening fully.

[F/N] yelped and stumbled back from the door. The two men forced their way into the shrine hallway. [F/N] felt her back hit the wall.

"I'm sorry about what is to happen. But Yorichii Tsugikuni needs to pay for what he did and the death of his sister will bring about our revenge. Please forgive us." Man B said finally unsheathing his sword.

Run.

[F/N]'s feet grew light as she took off down the shrine hall, The two men hot on her tail as she careened round the corners and throughout the shrine.

She felt her heart pound heavy in her chest. Both from the almost paralysing fear and the illness coursing throughout her system.

Her legs felt weak but carried on. Her pace just a little bit faster than the men behind her despite all odds, She unconsciously thanked the hours she spent out in the woods running around for resources.

Tears burst like a dam from her eyes and flew from her eyes as she sprinted. Choked sobs periodically interrupted the heavy breaths she took from running.

The faster she ran, The more corners she turned the more thoughts ran rampant throughout her head.

Exits? Only the main gate which she was currently running away from and were closed on the way in, It takes too much time to open those doors and the men would catch up to her in no time. Convince them to stop? Impossible. The men seemed determined in their goal and no amount of talking would change anything. The hidden room? On the other side of the shrine and she didn't have the key on her

[F/N] had gained a bit of distance from the men at this point, Having shook them off her trail for a very short amount of time.

She ran to where her heart took her, To the place she felt safest.

The offering hall which use to look bright and full of flowers, baskets of food and was spotless now was empty and cold. The candles went long unlit and a bit of dust built up and went into the air when she slammed open the doors, Making her cough.

[F/N] ran to the altar with her legs trembling. She fell to her knees in front of it crying her eyes out. Her body positioned into its usual prayer formation as she choked out her sobs.

"Please! Inari. I-I'm going to die... I haven't asked for anything from the day I've got here... Please spare my life.. L-Let me live! I don't want to die, Inari. Please.. Please.." [F/N] broke down in front of the altar as she chanted please over and over again like a sacred sutra.

She wailed quietly in front of the shrine letting all her emotions out from her eyes.

She never noticed the men standing behind her as she prayed. Their expressions serious and unaffected by the girl's unheard prayers.

Man A raised his katana. Holding it in his grasp he raised it high above his head.

And with a yell he swiftly brought it down.

Blood splattered the offerings room. Drenching the two men and the girl below, The blade going straight through her back.

☆♡☆

Cold.

It was so cold.

The men had left her there bleeding, How long ago she didn't know.

She had made her way out of the shrine. Past the main doors, Past the entrance gate and the pathway and out into the main part of the forest.

The blade had went right through her chest out the other side, She gripped it tightly while the blood stained her dragon-patterned haori colouring it crimson.

It was a miracle she had got this far out into the blizzard. The tip of her nose had frozen and her jaw chattered letting out cold air.

She weakly turtled into her haori for warmth however it proved futile.

The white snow behind her left a red trail as she walked.

Soon enough it was too much.

Soon enough, She collapsed.

☆♡☆

Quickly throughout the forest, Kokushibo ran quickly up the mountain through the unrelenting blizzard, Which never stung him in the slightest.

It had only been a few hours since he woke up from consuming that man's blood. His appearance now changed from the transformation which took three days to complete.

He carried a vial of that mans blood in one of his hands. He remembered the deal vividly in his mind.

Strength for him, A way to become stronger. Stronger than his brother. A way to avoid the eventual fate of all those who bore the demon slayer mark.

And a vial of that man's blood to save his dying sister.

He ran like hell. Snow crunching from the rapid footsteps behind him.

He stopped however, When the faintest scent of blood invaded his senses.

All three sets of his eyes widened.

He picked up his pace again. Now heading toward the smell.

His heartrate picked up. It couldn't be. It can't. [F/N] was alright. She was okay. Even now after becoming a demon, He still felt possessiveness affection towards his sister.

He came to a halt.

His heart dropped to his stomach as he tried to comprehend the sight in front of him. His eyes widened and his jaw slack open.

There in the snow, Lay a body curled up in a fetal position.

Snow had built up on it. It lay motionless buried in the snow.

He recognised it as [F/N].

"[F/N]!!" He yelled, running over to the body.

He fell to his knees in front of her and shoved off all the built up snow.

He pulled her body so her head was laying down on his lap. He shook her gently.

"...[F/N].. Wake up. Come on." He whispered. His shaking now growing more frantic to her lack of response.

He looked at the vial in his right hand.

Opening her mouth he popped open the seal and poured the red liquid into her mouth.

He watched it pour onto her tongue and down her throat. He waited for the reaction.

However, Nothing came.

He waited and waited. Nothing.

He felt his eyes water and flow out from them as the dawning realisation hit him.

He was holding his little sister's corpse in his arms.

He couldn't protect her. She had died and he wasn't there to protect her.

He yelled, Screamed and cried. In anger, Frustration, Sorrow, Guilt and mourning for his loss. He couldn't do anything.

However when he finally noticed the stab wound he realised this was murder. He could do something.

He carried his sister's body in his arms and pulled her close to his chest as he quietly grieved for her.

He brought her body back to her beloved shrine and set her down at the head of the shrine where she loved the most.

He'd deal with her body later. But for now he had to get revenge for the death of his little sister.

Using his blood demon art to make a sword he gripped it tight.

He set off into the blizzard already with a scent on the targets.

He looked back once at the shrine. The last remaining parts of his humanity dying in there with his sister

And with that he left. Never to look back again.

☆♡☆

It was five hundred years ago.

Kokushibo began reminiscing when he sat in front of her gravestone. What he did that night.

He had gotten his revenge, The two slayers slowly tortured and then eaten by him. Their screams and their pleads for mercy when they showed [F/N] none.

He had started with the fingers and toes, Then he moved up to the lower limbs, Slowly he ate them alive. He made one of them watch him while he ate, All before he moved onto them.

He made them confess who killed her to which after a little persuasion they admitted easily.

They got the worst of it, He didn't even eat him after the torture. Just left him pinned to a tree bleeding out. He had put him up high only giving him the options of freezing to death, bleeding out or dying from the fall.

The memories rewound in his head like a film. Flashing memories of when she was born and he got to cradle her in his arms. All the way up until he only held her lifeless corpse, Killed too soon.

He had mourned for a long time after that, Never really getting over her death, Not even now as he set down the new flowers on her grave built near the house they grew up in.

He couldn't bring himself to consume her body, He could never. It was too much.

He got up and dusted himself off, Just like she use to do.

He turned away and walked into the night, Melding into the shadows as he went off to find his next meal.

☆♡☆

The morning rays shun down on the Ubuyashiki Estate. Flowers in full bloom with wisteria ripe in the air.

Birds chirped and grasshoppers hummed in the bushes. The neatly trimmed and well kept garden a fit home for them

The Hashira had gathered and stood in front of the porch awaiting the arrival of their master. They talked amongst themselves in the meantime.

Mitsuri, The Love Hashira tugged on the hand of another. A soft smile gracing her face.

"Fujimori-san! You should really come out with me sometime, It's been ages since we've done something together!" Mitsuri teased lightly.

Fujimori laughed lightly from behind the kitsune mask with cerulean markings he (he?) wore. The medival english looking sword positioned in front of him pointing downward, His two hands gripping the katana-like hilt.

He was tall and muscular but had more of an athletic build. He had tattoo's from his neck to his lower arms describing pictures typically seen in shrine art.

His blue dragon-patterned haori that was draped around his lower arms lightly wove in the wind along with his [H/C] locks tied into a ponytail.

"What do you mean? We went on a mission together last week!" He chuckled.

Mitsuri huffed and lightly gripped his hand

"When I mean spend time together I mean like we should go to a hot spring or go out to eat together or-" Mitsuri continued rambling on as she listed off possible activities they could do together.

Fujimori, [F/N] listened intently onto her as she talked.

She (She? She.) however was only thinking of his visions: A sick woman, A woman with fox markings and a man in a purple hakama.

She'd need to figure it out later.

Next chapter

Would it be random to ask why there's barely any Goblin Slayer fics on here? I watched Goblin Slayer awhile go and was bummed to fine a little bit 🥺

I just started it too, trying to get with Halsin 🥲

Baldur's gate 3 fandom be like:

Lady... respectfully you may lost all respect for your daughter because you didn't tell her about her REAL baby daddy AND ignored her calls and texts

Great fic though, but the mom fudged up tho 🤥

pl4y: <<stepdad punishes slutty stepdaughter!>>

ft: <<stepdad!chris x stepdaughter!reader>>

mdni+tw: <<dead dove, stepcest (?), noncon, deflowering, creampie, squirting, camgirl reader, cheating depictions, size-kink (?), guilt, bad mental health depictions, mild alcoholism (?), daddy use, rough, bleeding, tba>>

☆/n: special thanks to @cherubify my beloved for beta-ing this piece and entertaining my brainrot about it!!

starlies: @dollita-fawn @ghostsghoul @elihii @iixtsmee @admirxation @ressespearlz @shiawaseorii @rigorwhoring @sqiim @localkiss @d10nyx @valslullaby @bonnibuckets @sirenswrld @argreion @j3llyd0nut @squazmine

the burly man stood before his crying wife. his brows pulled into a frown. why was she crying when she was the perpetrator in this situation? he thought of doing so many things. he wanted to yell at her to shut the fuck up, he wanted to punch an object, he wanted to slump to the floor and bury his face in his hands like a sad child, but most of all he wanted the ringing in his head to stop. so he simply cleared his throat, face set in his usual stoic expression.

"she's not mine?"

he asked, hoping that his voice wouldn't waver. the woman before him nodded, sobbing. he felt his whole world begin to crack and shatter around him. this was somehow almost worse than all of the horrors he had faced. this woman was the one whose shoulders he had cried on, whose arms he sought on his worst days and the one he entrusted with his heart in its entirety. his family tethered him from going off into the deep end. 

they were his shield of normalcy from the world he came back from every day. the salve to his wounds from battle. he felt the last shred of his heart that was left undamaged and protected shrivel and die like the rest of it. this woman had single handedly crushed Chris Redfield's heart and nothing would be able to fix it. that night, she upped and left. she mumbled something about going back to her parents' place and how they could try couples counselling. he wouldn't turn towards her as he sat on the edge of his bed. their bed. or at least it was. 

as soon as the door shut and her footsteps faded behind the sound of the latch clicking in place, Chris buried his face in his hands. a deep low exhale left his frame and he trembled. god gave the worst battles to his strongest soldiers but this...this was it. the battle that broke god's strongest soldier. his fingers reached for the pack of cigarettes hidden in the drawer of his nightstand and shakily took one out. he lit it and took a deep inhale, letting the nicotine fill his lungs. along with tar and everything bad in it. he had promised her that he would quit. that he would fulfil their vows in sickness and in health. but then again, she broke it the day she decided to lay with another man. 

a week later, he was shaken awake from his drunken nap by loud knocks on the door. he groaned as he got up, feeling the familiar ache and stiffness in his back and joints. he rubbed the drool from the side of his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling the skin rub against prickly stubble. he opened the door, fully expecting some random insurance agent or even one of those religious door to doors but instead, he was greeted by you. you were all bright eyes and teeth as you bounded towards him, wrapping him in the warmth that he hadn't felt in a while. 

"dad!"

in the mess that had been going on in reality and his head, Chris had forgotten that his daughter from college was coming home today. he swallowed and felt his chest tighten at the sight of his pretty little princess. his beloved daughter. his- 

he wanted to reach out and pat your head, ruffle your hair like he always did but you weren't his daughter. that...woman said so herself. and once he began to see it, he couldn't unrealise it. the way your hair sat, the brightness of your eyes, and the way your face crinkled when you smiled. you looked all like your mother and father. nothing like him. 

"dad? are you okay? you look a little uh...dishevelled..."

your voice was soft but he noticed the slight scrunch of your nose. he probably smelled, he had no idea how long he had spent on that couch drinking, smoking, and eating takeout. his hands faltered and returned limply to his side. 

"been a rough week, peach."

he says, forcing a smile. your brows tugged into a frown. that face he had gotten used to seeing whenever the gears in your head turned. from when you were little up till now. your mother had not told you anything. of course she had to rub the salt in. might as well marinate him with the way things are going. throw in a couple of seasonings. he ruffled your hair and smiled as you swatted at his hand and protested playfully. the hollowness in his chest was threatening to swallow him whole.

the living room was a mess, take out boxes, cigarette butts, and empty bottles littered the area in front of the television. you called out for your mom, frowning when there was no response. a warm hand on your shoulder made you jump a little.

"hey peach, we need to talk about...some things."

your eyes widened and you swallowed softly. you saw the circles beneath dad's eyes. it was as bad as when aunty Jill was announced dead and dad had to go to Africa for a while. his eyes were red, his clothes had takeout stains, and he looked a mess. you nodded slowly and followed him to the living room where he pushed aside a bunch of boxes and whatnot aside to make space for you.

"your mom and i...we're not together anymore. and uh..."

you're not my daughter. the words echoed in his head over and over, sitting at the back of his throat all bitter. you tilted your head expectantly, bracing yourself for the next bomb of an update on your parents' sudden marriage crumble. the look in your eyes and the way your smile faltered made the words die on his tongue. he rubbed his face tiredly and bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste the familiar tang of copper.

"and...uh...she's at your nana's..."

he says finally. you saw the way his shoulders sunk and you didn't have the heart to push the topic so you inhaled deeply and fidgeted with your fingers on your lap. the living room was filled with silence. you and dad had never been the closest or the best at sharing things. 

you loved him and he loved you but in the way where he would give you gifts, ruffle your hair, and tell you he was proud of you whenever he was home. not in the way where you had heart-to-hearts or spoke every other day. he was way too busy for that and as you grew, you made peace with it. he was a good dad and a good husband. heck, he was even a good man with all the protecting he's doing. and you love your dad. you really do.

"it's okay, dad. you don't have to uhm...explain anything. it's fine. are you okay though?"

you ask after a while, eyes searching his lightless gaze. that familiar tightness in his chest and the ringing in his head was proving to be too much. so he nodded and did what he did best. bottle it all up. 

"i am. don't worry that little head of yours, peach. you should rest up, the trip was tiring wasn't it?"

he asks in his usual gruff voice, offering you a tired smile. the one that he used to hide things when you were little. some things will never change you suppose. so you gave him what you hoped was a comforting pat on the shoulder and headed upstairs to your room. 

later that night he called you for dinner and aside from mom's seat being cold and empty, the house was back to normal. so you sat next to your dad and ate the takeout he ordered. he even got you your favourites, the dumplings and the egg noodles topped with just the right amount of chilli oil only he knew how much. it was a nice quiet with an occasional "how's school going?" and the usual small talk. but that didn't matter, dad looked less worse for wear and that was what you had hoped for. 

but then the days began to grow longer and dad seemed to be staying out later and later. and when he came home, he would reek of booze and smokes. he would simply give you a ruffle on the head and disappear into his room. even mom wasn't picking up her phone. she must need the space, you thought to yourself. well, that makes the two of them. 

so you decided to scratch your initial plans of focusing on family time and pulled out your laptop and webcam. at least this way you could entertain your beloved viewers and earn some pocket cash on the side. you typed out your user and adjusted your hair and make-up before turning on the livestream and webcam with a wide smile.

"hi lovies, i know i said i was gonna be away for a while but i got bored and missed all of you."

you pouted before letting out soft giggles. your fingers began tracing the metallic zipper of your hoodie.

"if you show me how much you missed me too, i'll reward all of you with something new."

you said with half-lidded eyes at the screen as your fingers toyed with the zipper. you watched as the notifications went crazy with tips pouring in. people on this app loved you. so you began to unzip your hoodie, letting the lace of your bra peek through. 

"do you guys like it? it was a gift from booblover45...the top subscriber of the month."

the chat began to fill up with thanks towards the user who gifted you the lingerie set. an hour into the stream and you had your legs splayed on either side of your chair as your fingers buried themselves knuckle deep into your cunt.

"f-fuck...you guys...it feels so good...can i please cum? please...?"

your breath was laboured and your skin shimmered with sweat and colour. one of your hands reached up to play with your chest as the other continued to edge you closer and closer to your release. you bit down on your lips to stifle a louder moan. you knew dad was out but something about being dirty in your childhood room made you feel a little more shy than usual. your eyes desperately scanned your screen to see what the highest contributor chose. it was going to be either a push to your climax or more edging for god knows how long. 

user booblover45 came to your rescue once more with a simple "cum for us queen." which you came to. unfortunately. you thanked the fact that you were sensitive to the edging from before for being able to cum to the phrase 'queen'. your back arched from the chair and slick ran down your fingers. you panted, putting the fingers in your mouth and licking them. 

"thanks, lovies. always making me feel so good..."

you moaned breathlessly, giving them your signature fucked out smile which sent even more tips pouring in. people on this app were easy to please. you wished them goodnight and shut off your laptop feeling sleepy from all the streaming and jerking off you did. you zipped up your hoodie and wiped your fingers on the sides of your shorts as you walked towards your bed. too tired and cotton-headed to notice that your door was cracked open and a figure was stifling his grunts as he pumped into his hand.

Chris could not believe that he had just blown a load to his daughter jerking off in front of her laptop. nausea hit him so quickly that he barely made it to the washroom to hurl the night's liquor into the sink. the stickiness between his thighs and on the palm of his calloused hands made his head reel. what the fuck is wrong with him? that was his little girl! his little peach! he groaned and tapped his head against the mirror a little harder. hoping that the cold would seep into his brain and dissolve the drunken clouds in his mind. he needed a shower.

so he stepped into the shower, turned the head on to the most harshest spray setting he could and turned off the heater. he felt the sting of cold and sharp shooting water rain onto him and he rubbed his stubbled face in his hands. he felt disgusted at himself. repulsed by his actions and thoughts. but as much as he was, the image of you knuckling deep into your cunt, chest heaving, whimpers and moans slipping from your lips as you sought your release made blood rush to his cock again despite how cold the water was. 

you looked just like her and nothing like him. nothing at all. so that should be okay, right? jerking off to your not daughter is...less bad...right? with a stifled groan, Chris came into his hands once more, the sharpness of the water pricking at his flushed skin. he had truly lost it. finally gone off the deep end like everybody thought he would. anger began to simmer within his chest as his heart slammed against his ribs almost painfully post-orgasm. 

this wasn't his fucking fault, to begin with. if his ex-wife hadn't opened her legs for someone else, he wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. if that girl hadn't been live-streaming herself jerking off, he wouldn't have seen the likeness of his ex-wife in her and he wouldn't have- he let out a frustrated grunt as he punched his fists into the cement. 

he did it a few more times, watching as most of the brownish red from his split knuckles washed away from the webbed cracks where he hit. the loud sounds must have woken her up. She knocked on the door of the bathroom gingerly asking if he was okay. the sound of rushing water ceased and the door was thrown open so suddenly that she flinched backwards, surprise and concern etched all over her face. 

"get out of my room."

he says coldly, brows furrowed and eyes filled with a look she had never seen before in all her years of knowing him. the look sent a chill down her spine.

"d-dad your knuckles...they're-"

her voice came out in an almost squeak as she pointed out how bloody and mashed his knuckles looked. the glare that he sent her way sent her scampering out of the room as fast as her smaller frame could take her. Chris found his own eyes lingering on the way her hoodie and shorts hugged her figure as she ran off. the way her skin looked so soft that it made his mouth water. after all this time spent learning how to kill monsters, Chris Redfield has turned into a monster himself.

the next two weeks, dad barely acknowledged you. the cold shoulder he gave you on top of leaving the house every day was making the situation at home the tensest it has ever been. your mom was still offline and when you called your grandparents' house, they told you to give her some more time. you couldn't possibly stand a month of this! you needed to get dad to open up and figure out what you did to piss him off. he was never like this. in fact, his cold demeanour and silent treatment were beginning to affect your mental state.

"dad, are you avoiding me?"

silence.

"dad this is getting really stupid. first mom just goes off the grid and now you're gonna give me the cold shoulder too?"

he stood up, without even sparing you a glance before grabbing his car keys and leaving for the night. most likely for another night of drinking and coming home at the ass crack of dawn to just keel over on the couch and stink up the whole living room with the stench of booze. the door slammed shut behind him and you stood there feeling lost and empty. why the fuck is this happening? what is wrong with everybody? all you wanted was a peaceful one-month school break at home. not whatever the hell this was. you felt your heart pound in your chest and a tension beginning to build at the forefront of your temple.

maybe making a video would help to release it. orgasms were supposed to help with migraines and talking to your audiences might help take your mind off things. so just like before, you slip into the latest lingerie purchased by a certain user booblover45. you got into position and began to set things up.

"hi, my darlings how are you guys feeling today?"

you started, smiling all sweet and pretty into the camera. as usual the replies steadily streamed in along with the view count. the usual "better now that you're online", "we love you!!", and "so horny for you baby"s began to fill the screen. you giggle softly feeling the familiar boost of dizzying validation flood into your system and everything falls into rhythm. the slipping off the hoodie on your shoulders, your fingers tracing down your stomach to the lacy band of your latest lingerie. the soft clicking sounds as you began to rub the swell of your clit and scissor yourself open for the camera.

you were oblivious to the sound of the front door unlocking earlier than usual. the way heat rushed to a certain someone's ears as the sounds of your stifled needy moans floated through the spaces of your empty home. and the way his stiff jeans tightened around his lower waist in a painfully restrictive manner.

"what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

his deep booming voice sent chills down your spine. you shot up from your seat, almost smashing your laptop shut. your breathing grew quicker as he stepped closer towards you, backing you up against your desk where your laptop sat. your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. you felt your blood run cold as you struggled to pull your hoodie's zipper up to hide from his darkening gaze.

"d-dad you didn't knock i-"

you began to say before he grabbed your wrists harshly, making you wince.

"don't play stupid with me. i know what you've been up to, slut."

you froze. his mouth was moving but the words sounded nothing like him at all. he looked so different too, filled with an emotion that you couldn't describe. he was...terrifying. you felt your heart begin to pound.

"w-what? dad, why would you say that?"

you sputtered out, staring at him with widened fearful eyes. his grip on your wrists tightened even more.

"don't call me that."

your chest began to tighten and tears began to blur your vision. confusion was plastered all over your face. now if he wasn't so pissed, his heart would have sunk to his ass but the way you were crying sounded just like her. like that stupid slut. like mother likes daughter.

"no daughter of mine would ever do something so disgusting like spreading her legs for strangers on the internet!"

he practically roared in your face which only served to make you tear up even more. 

"daddy i'm sorry. i-"

you tried using the name you used to call him to soften his heart but he was too far gone. his eyes were dark, pupils swallowing all of the kind brown up as he stared at you with a look of almost hunger. he yanked you by your wrist towards the bed and tossed you onto it with such ease. you scrambled to adjust your hoodie and apologise even more but the loud sound of ripping shattered your frantic train of thought. he had ripped your hoodie up and tossed it aside, leaving you in just your lingerie. 

"fucking disgusting."

he scowls as he grips your arm bruisingly and pulls you over his lap.

"slutty little girls like you deserve to be punished don't you think? so they won't end up being like their mothers..."

he snarled as he landed swat after swat onto your ass. you shrieked in pain, squirming and struggling against his iron grip. broken apologies and sobs were the only things leaving your mouth for what felt like forever. your ass felt like it was on fire but also extremely numb. 

"daddy i'm sorry. it hurts so bad i'm sorry..."

you begged, too weak and in pain to squirm as hard. he gripped the fat of your ass which made you shriek hoarsely once more before he flipped you over onto your back. he spread your legs apart with his hands and lowered his fingers towards the lace clothing of your soaked cunt. why were you soaked? it hurt. everything hurts. and yet all of that combined with the fact that your dad was throwing you around like a ragdoll was making you incredibly wet. you could feel the stickiness dribble down your inner thighs.

he began bunching up what little fabric of the lace and pulling it upwards, the roughness of it adding friction to your sensitive cunt. you whimpered, squirming to get away so that he wouldn't see what a mess he had turned you into in his fit of rage and so-called discipline. his free hand grabbed onto your hips bruisingly as he held you in place. 

"stop squirming. you can show all of that to strangers on the internet but not your daddy?"

he mocked in his throaty voice. you shoved weakly at his chest, the strength with which he held you depleting your own. it was pointless. dad was built with muscle and stone. you were powerless. nothing but a prey snared in his predatory hold. his hands began to roam the soft expanse of your skin, rough fingers and callouses scratching as they trailed. 

he began groping your tits roughly making you whine in pain as tears continued rolling down your face. you were hiccupping from too much sobbing at this point but all your desperate babbles fell on deaf ears. he had stepped off the edge of his conscience. the alcohol he had consumed that night being the final push he needed. you were at the mercy of a corrupt figure of a hero. a stranger in the body of your own father. 

as your mind began to slip into a haze of pain, confusion, and upset, the rustling sound of his shirt being discarded along with the sound of his denim jeans unzipping felt like being dunked in ice-cold water. it was the moment your fate was truly sealed.

"you look just like that bitch. so fucking sexy and slutty. if only she could keep her legs closed. if only."

he muttered through gritted teeth before spitting a glob onto your dribbling cunt.

"you're so wet already. consider this spit a favour. for old times' sake with your old daddy yeah?"

he says as he rubbed his huge cock with his hands a few times. the way it hung from his waist beneath his slightly softened belly even as he was half hard at the moment was terrifying.

"daddy it's my first time. you're...you're too big!"

you whispered frantically, eyes widening in fear. he scoffed.

"first time? you expect me to believe that you stupid slut?"

he sneered tapping the lightly-haired heft of his dick onto your sopping cunt. you shiver and squeeze your eyes shut in fear and trepidation. your heart was pounding out of your chest you were sure he could probably see its outline from beneath your tits. your fingers clutched at your sheets, knuckles whitening.

the blunt pain hit you so hard you felt winded, your vision filling up with spots of black and your lungs emptied momentarily as a guttural shriek left your throat. he was all the way in, the spit and slick making it slip in easier but not any less painful considering the sheer girth of him. he let out a groan as he tore through the vice-like grip of your virgin cunt.

"so fucking tight. i could almost believe you're a virgin."

he slurs, chest heaving from how snug he felt. his huge hand reached up to your face as he mushed the softness of your cheeks between his fingers. you could feel him place the weight of his body on you, the softened rigidness of his older body pressed onto your own, making breathing even harder than it already was. you clawed at the tough of his biceps, drawing red pearls from the indents your nails left. he began pounding into you purposefully slow, letting you hear every lewd slap of his balls against your ass and the tip of his cock spearing against your cervix. you could feel him stirring your insides into mush with every strained grunt and thrust.

"shit...you're so tight and wet for me...at least your slut of a mom was good for something."

he grunts against your ear, his stomach pressing against the shape of his dick that bulged as he continued to pound into you. you were letting out choked moans that were in sync with his movements. the overwhelming feelings and stimulation mixed with your torrent of thoughts was making everything feel so unreal and distant. all you could focus on was how your insides felt like slush, how lewd the sounds were, and how you were beginning to like the feeling of your dad taking you the way he is now.

you were driving him crazier with each cry, making him almost feral as he got even harder inside of your slutty cunt. the way he hulked over your body, the way he was chasing his own high, and the way he felt deserving of this pleasure was addling his brain. all he could think of was how cute his little peach was as she cried and quivered beneath him. and as your cunt helplessly tightened around him despite all of it being so twisted, he twitched and came inside of you feeling hot ropes of his release pump into you as you shook and mewled.

"fuuuckkk can't believe you came so hard for daddy as he used you for his own...so disgusting..."

he moaned as he continued to push his seed deeper into your womb. you were babbling brokenly too fucked out to even comprehend anything as your cunt milked him dry from your high. his waist was splattered in droplets from the burst of your release, dripping off of his scarred skin.

you felt yourself get lifted with ease and the familiar blinking light of your set-up entering your sight. what? what was going on? why was- the light and dinging from your buzzing chat began going crazy and your heart even further down to the pits of your ass. he had turned your livestream back on...

you felt your knees being folded to your chest and your thighs spread, back pressed firmly against dad's firm and hairy chest. he was holding you in a full nelson, bearing your all for your stream to see.

"you like being a slut online right? let me show them how your daddy uses your greedy little cunt. show them how you like being messed up by your daddy."

he whispered against the shell of your ear, setting your whole body ablaze with heat. the slick and cum from earlier dripped onto the floor as he began to fuck into you with ease. he held you with no effort at all, a ragdoll at his mercy. you felt the familiar pleasure begin to build and override the burn in your limbs from the way he held you. the chats and tips began flooding in, causing your stream to lag at times which had never happened before. his other hand that was groping at your tits travelled down to your clit and began rubbing and pinching the puffiness as he thrust. 

your senses began to overload, the sensitivity from before leaving you almost hysterical. you were twitching in his hold as your sensitivity heightened insanely. he wanted you to squirt again. let the whole internet see you as the slut you truly are. his arms flexed and his position remained upright as he continued to use you like a pocket pussy. like you were never his daughter. 

you could feel his sweat sticking to your back and the only sounds were your own breathless yelling moans, the squelching and his groans. you saw stars and with a loud keening moan akin to those in pornography exaggerations, your release squirted onto the lens of your webcam and all over your desk and yourself. he began slapping at your clit, causing your body to keel over in his grip while twitching and jerking from overstimulation.

your field of vision narrowed to pinpricks and you passed out. he watched your head slump forward, drool dribbling down from your lips to his forearms. the chat was dinging nonstop at this point, tips pouring in endlessly. with one hand, he hauled you over his shoulder while the other slammed your laptop shut after clicking the 'end stream' confirmation. his skin was flushed and sweat dripped from his brows and hairline. his back and body were beginning to ache from how hard he went. he himself was a bit shocked at the vigour at which he fucked you with. 

he almost felt like he was in his twenties again (almost because the ache and throbbing in his bones were beginning to hit). except in his twenties, he was absorbed with work to pay for Claire's college fees and pay for his newly wedded family needs and eventually your needs too because you were his kid. or at least that was what he thought at that time.

he watched your fucked out form on your childhood bed and was filled with a dread that was akin to his first-ever mission in the Arklay mountains. what the fuck had he done? he needed a drink. one to seal the fate of his liver failing on him. the same path a pal of his was heading down. maybe Leon was onto something with his alcoholism. he grabbed the tissues off your nightstand and began to clumsily clean you up, hands shaking beyond belief as he saw the blood and cum leaking out of your used hole. 

he felt bile rising in his throat but he pushed on, making sure you were all cleaned up. in your sleep, you were his little peach. you looked so peaceful and sweet. nothing like the whore spreading her legs for the camera. nothing like his ex-wife, your mom. he wiped away the sweat from his forehead and swallowed down the bike that began to rise once more. he pressed a chaste kiss to your hairline and began to stand up to leave, groaning a little from the tightness in his spine. he was one step towards the door when a soft hoarse voice called weakly for him.

"daddy? could you...stay?"

your voice snipped the strings of his shrivelled heart, sealing his fate as your fingers curled around his own. like you used to do when you were small. Chris began to feel breathless and sick. he yanked his hand away and dashed to the toilet, hurling his guts out. his thoughts raced and each beat of his heart made his head spin even more. he cradled his head in the palms of his hand and let out a sob from the deepest depths of his chest. 

how the fuck was he supposed to live with himself when he had fucked his stepdaughter who still thought that they were related by blood? how could he live with himself when his head begins to fill with the thoughts of how much further he wanted to break you and hear you call him daddy again while wearing your mom's face? he regretted nothing. only grieving the death of his old heroic identity as he embraced the flawed humanity that had resided within him all along.

Chris Redfield was no hero. neither was he a villain. he was a human being, a creature of flaw and sin.

as you slept, your phone buzzed with text messages and missed calls from your mom.

"honey, we need to talk. your real dad is here to see you. it's about time we talked about this in the open. please, tell your dad that i'm sorry and that i miss him. love you and please call me back when you see this! - mom"

I like the music 🎶 😌

(SPOILERS) breaking down how obsessed Andrew is w/his sister bc he's a repressed lil liar and I'm going insane

This post got longer than I intended it to

1. He claims they don't spend enough time apart from each other to even begin missing her so he doesn't even know if he would, but just earlier in the game he was apart from her for probs like 30 mins tops to investigates some cultists and guess what???? He was already missing her 😒

2. Says "I thought you grew out of this touchy-feely crap" when Ashley asks for a hug, but earlier when he was cooking dinner, he was the one with the inexplicable urge to "pull this broody bitch into [his] arms and force her to stay until she smiles" 😒

3. Piggy-backing off the last screenshot: WHAT OTHER THOUGHTS, ANDREW??? yOU WERE JUST THINKING ABT HUGGING HER. WHAT DO YOU EVEN MEAN. THESE ARE SIMPLY INNOCENT BROTHERLY THOUGHTS ARE THEY NOT????? 🤨🤨🤨

4. Bro just can't keep his hands off her. And everyone thinks Ashley's the clingy one jeez (lol the way he springs apart from her when Mom catches them is definitely definitelyyyy not worth analyzing. nope. not even when it happens a second time on the couch. nope. nooope)

5. What. What is he thinking here. Don't think I don't see those grey lil blush lines. Is this connected to my third point somehow bc like... 🤨😬 Is "Andrew" is gonna start doing and being what "Andy" was too spineless and afraid of doing?? That's what the vow was partly abt right?? Does that include—

5. WHEWWW BOY that little flashback with his gf has so much baggage in it I just wanna dissect. His girlfriend's tryna have a serious discussion with him abt his weird sister for the sake of bettering their relationship bc she genuinely loves him, but he just gets caught up in fondly talking abt said weird sister instead??

6. He's awfully hesitant abt Ashley learning some independence, bc y'know what?? I think he doesn't really want her to stop relying on him. But what do I know y'know

6. Wants his gf to put tie her hair up in a ponytail, then when she refuses bc he'll pull on it, says it's just "how boys express their love". Well. You know who else puts there hair up in a ponytail??? You know who else's hair he's always pulling on and touching???

7. The voicemails in his gf's phone left by Ashley are heard by him in his dreams, and his dreams are a construction of his mind utilizing his memories, personal hangups, and knowledge of Ashley. The voicemails irl were left on his gf's phone, and for all we know, he never actually listened to them in person. Bearing this in mind... odds are the things Ashley's saying contain bits of truths he believes within himself, filtered thru her crude, hateful dialogue.

Here. I transcribed one of them...

"DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME!? Just because you can fuck him and I can't? You think that's love?! Are you fucking delusional?? Cumdumpsters like you are just that. He will never love you. Not like he loves me. I am the only one. I am everything. I am the secrets you'll never hear. When he lies in bed at night, and when he needs someone to hold on to… It's not you he seeks out. It is me."

8. Claims Ashley's the one with the jealous streak, not him, but I think he's just as bad. The only difference is that Ashley's never given him reason to act on it since all she's ever wanted was him, but at the slightest mention of her gettin it on w/someone else, even as a joke, he gets mad. "OVER MY DEAD BODY!!" he says, when she's jokingly contemplating getting knocked up via the neighbor so an ambulance would come for her. "I wouldn't let them," he says, when she's complaining abt not being pretty enough for the wardens to bang her

9. Going hand-in-hand with that fact, he's intensely protective of her. Didn't hesitate to cleaver the warden who found her in the closet (probs didn't even BLINK lmaooo he chose VIOLENCE), and when the cake-stealing cultist insulted her just once, he stepped forward just like that

10. In their apt, when they were lying on the floor talking abt jumping off the balcony, he was really caught up in the "romantic" fantasy of them committing a double suicide and dying with their bodies entwined so irreparably by the impact they form one unified corpse "never to be separated!" and they get buried in the same coffin together. UM??? Bro fr thought he was the sane one of the two. That wasn't even true before the cannibalism and demon summoning 😭😭😭

BONUS:

11. This might just be me, but his reaction to seeing the post-sex vision doesn't strike me as someone who's inherently opposed to the idea. Instead of disgusted, he was... flustered?? He acted like she walked in mid-guilty pleasure wet dream. This wasn't a "GROSS THATS INCEST" reaction which is... the most normal reaction to have. That's the face of a man that got CAUGHT bro.

He asks "we're not like that, are we?" and "why are you like this?" and questions the veracity of the vision, but he never actually explicitly denies wanting the vision to happen, more focused on Ashley and her reaction. He buries the elephant under the rug as fast as he can, bc yeah, it struck a landmine, but it probably wasn't a landmine for the reason Ashley thinks it is. I bet the vision just hit a little too close... :P

Woodsmoke (Joel Miller x F! Reader x Joe 'Bear' Graves)

Chapter Two: Smoke

Masterlist

Rating: Mature (Rating will change) Word Count: 7k Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault (Non-explicit) Tags: Character Study, Angst (Literally so much angst), AU- Canon divergence, Sheep Farmer Joel Miller, Patrolman Joe 'Bear' Graves, Domesticity, PTSD, Night Terror, Cuddling by a campfire, Touch starvation, Unrequited pining, Complicated emotional relationships A/N: This is part two of me going 'Lol what if these two DILFs in a threesome' and then rapidly descending into a 20k character study fic, many hours watching Six and re-watching TLOU, and countless conversations with @writeforfandoms @guyfieriii and @soapskneebrace (To whom this series is dedicated to) Also it's been literally four months since I posted the first chapter Jesus fuck I'm so sorry ahahahaha

Summary:

Bear, by contrast, is a the bright, licking heat of a campfire. The gentle glow of him in the distance brings you closer, beckons your cold hands into the warmth of him. You bask in the entrancing flicker of him, watch with glinting eyes the dance of the flames, unable to look away. It tugs something in your chest that wants more but knows that if you reach your hands into the flare that you might somehow breathe in the flames, allow him to burn the hollow of your ribs to make space there just for him.

It takes time for you to notice, but you see the way Bear holds himself in his frustration, in the vague mentions of before that you hear Caulder and the others murmur about in hushed tones. There's something in Bear that has been broken long ago, and the pain of it threatens to bubble to the surface, snap like the sudden crack of a log that sends sparks scattering up into the nighttime sky. It's a dangerous, searing thing that he refuses to show to you no matter how much it consumes him. A ferocious, burning brightness that sets himself ablaze to keep others warm, even if it means turning to cinders as a result.

Instead, he sets his gaze upon you. You see embers dance in the darkness of his pupils, a hypnotizing temptation that you want to touch even though it might singe the edges of your soul. The presence of him threatens to burn your world to ashes, if only so he can lift you from the carnage and into his hands, cradle you there until you surrender to him.

It takes weeks for you to approach these strange new men in the place you call home.

Joel offers them the house on the hill, on the other side of the valley. You watch from the kitchen as he invites the men inside the house, keeps them corralled to the living room and away from you, sheltering in the kitchen. Your hands, damp with soap and water, tremble from the presence of strangers, of armed men, of the threat of danger-

Yet Joel's voice wafts from the doorway. Low, even, like the slow, murmuring crackle of a fire against your too cold palms. The warmth draws away the chill of your memories, the ones where silhouettes in the dark reach for you with grasping hands. You focus instead on the sound of his voice, feel your shoulders shift and sink, reminding yourself that even in the presence of these strangers, Joel will keep you safe. He always will.

Eventually you peek from the archway as the conversation continues, carefully observe the men who Joel has entrusted to keep the farm safe.

There's four of them. Two sit with their backs to you, one of them with his back turned towards you, his dark skin cast in warmer hues by the fireplace beside him. To his left is his thinner, wiry comrade. You saw him look at you from his horse, face calm but eyes sharp. Ready as you stood trembling with the shotgun in your hands. He seems to hear you behind him, casting a brief gaze over his shoulder as if checking behind him before he faces forward again. The motion draws the attention of his friend, who makes a larger effort to glance at you, offering a kind smile that you briefly return.

Across from the two of them, Chase and Fish, you later learn their names are, is a man who appears so much younger than he truly is. He looks almost boyish despite the flecks of grey beginning in his curly, dusty blonde hair. Caulder, you're told later, doesn't glance at you, instead focused unwaveringly on Joel, who speaks in low, serious tones with the man seated beside him.

Bear.

Bear sits with his arms crossed, feet planted and legs spread. Whereas Joel bends forward, his elbows on his knees in contemplation, Bear looks alert, observant, ready for motion at the drop of a hat as he leans back, arms crossed. He regards Joel silently as he speaks, listens respectfully with little nods and noises of affirmation. When he does speak, his voice is a low, dragging mumble that has you sometimes struggle to make out the words. Yet there's a steadiness to his tone, an unflinching resolution that's reassuring in the face of the danger posed to you all.

It's only when Joel looks away for a brief moment towards one of the other men that Bear looks up at you from under thick eyebrows, the lines near his eyes wrinkling in a gentle, entreating smile.

You feel your heart thump in your chest a little louder, trying to decipher apprehension from the vague stir of interest at the kindness that glints against blue eyes.

Eventually the men stand, and Bear clasps his hand against Joel's in some sort of agreement you can't make out. They shuffle outside, and you hover at the door of the kitchen, a touch nervous, as they each give you a small nod or 'ma'am' as they pass. Bear brings up the rear, once more pauses, draws your eyes up to his taller form.

"You let us know if you need anything, yeah?" He offers, voice a low, soothing murmur that feels all too much like autumn wind through the shade of the forest.

You only nod at him, once more feel that strange stirring in your chest, one that almost wants to reach out, ask more of him that you know how to.

He leaves, and you watch from the window of the front door as the four of them set about tending to their horses, leading them up the hill and towards the barn nestled next to the pastures.

Joel stands with his hand on the frame of the door until they've left the perimeter of the house before turning to you. You blink at the wrinkle of his brow, the thin, taut line of his lips that you know to be displeasure.

"You don't have to talk to those boys if you don't want to, understand?" He tells you, and you watch his scarred hand curl on the wooden plane of the door. "If they make problems, you let me know."

You nod at that, still a little unsettled by Joel's tone, the way he seems to both trust and distrust these men he's summoned. Yet when you listen to the echo of his words in your thoughts, you realize there's something there you almost missed. Something that almost sounds possessive.

Yet then you watch Joel's shoulder sink all of a fraction, his fist drop from the door as he carefully closes the distance between you. His hand is warm when it lands on your shoulder, familiar and welcome. Even though he doesn't speak, there's words conveyed there that you understand in the absence of his voice.

We'll be okay. I've got you. I trust you.

Please trust me too.

----

You avoid them.

Bear bypasses Joel’s offer of the desolate house atop the other side of the valley, says it’s better to be close to the barn. They set up camp in the hayloft, the four of them crammed together in such a way that there's scantly any space between them. It helps, you think. The nights get frigid in the shadow of the valley, and more than one night you think about how they might be cold, might be sore from the wooden planks under their backs. It's not comfortable by any means, the barn is drafty and musky with the scent of the horses and manure. Yet you don't hear a single word of complaint from them in the mornings from the group aside from a grumble or a grunting stretch. There's a hardiness, a drive and resolve to them that you both recognize and are unfamiliar with.

They're different from the FEDRA soldiers. They're humble, respectful, and don’t use their positions as armed guards to sway you or intimidate you. Yet there's some recollection in your memory of the way they shove playfully at each other, the appreciation they have for their weapons, the way they snap to attention when given instructions. The glint of focus, of something dangerous and intense in their gazes has you maintain a berth when you can, heart murmuring in caution at the unknowable things in their eyes.

You wonder who they all were before this.

You try not to think about it too much.

Joel puts them to work soon after they arrive, and you're surprised by the shortlist of tasks he gives them, as if he's been waiting for the extra help. There's repairs made to the roof, fences mended in the disused pasture, the well is dug deeper, and you soon find even your chores being assisted with. The men grumble at first about the labor, but a firm word from Bear has them shrug, set about aiding where they can. It's a welcome help, and you can't deny the relief at having some more time to yourself as a result.

If Joel sees you drape extra blankets on the ladder to the hayloft, he doesn't say anything.

You pass your new guests throughout the day, still trying to make yourself scarce where you can. They're rowdy with each other, words sometimes a little too biting and caustic for comfort. More than once you come into the barn to see them boyishly tugging at each other, only to freeze when they spot you. You wonder if maybe you make them uncomfortable with your skittishness around them.

When they do approach you, however, it's always with good intentions, offers of assistance in the task you've set out with. You see Bear always watching them from the corner of his eye as they near you, ready to step in at the moment you shy away. It happens more than once, at least in the beginning, and it's Bear's firm hand on the shoulder of one of his men that alerts them, tugs them away from your nervous, shifting stance.

Always, there's an apology on his lips, a careful offering that has you meet his gaze once more.

You think the blue of his eyes looks like a gentle summer rainstorm.

The men take shifts once darkness begins to fall. There's a smaller camp set up at the top of the valley, in the vein that runs between the hills. It's simple. A tent, a campfire, and a loaded gun to fire into the darkness of the valley below in case of an attack. You look to the orange haze of the fire at night, high up on the rise. You stand, watching it sometimes from the porch, a shawl wrapped around your shoulders, praying the fire doesn't go out, that raiders don't descend into this place you've come to call home.

Joel sits outside with you some nights, doing much the same, as if he himself doesn't entirely trust the soldiers he's hired to properly warn you all of danger. Yet when the hour grows late he suggests, in that gruff and stubborn way of his, that you go inside and sleep.

You do and try not to think of the memory of a bonfire licking at the stars and the screams of others in the freeze of a winter forest. The phantom sound of the shotgun haunts your dreams, waiting for the moment it will crack like the sound of thunder and rain chaos down on you all.

When morning comes, it's quiet once more.

It's on one of those quiet mornings that you run into Bear.

The forest path is soddened from the drizzle of the night before, the world still muted and grey as the last of the rain moves through the mountains. Sunlight weaves its way through the canopy of trees and overcast clouds, dappling bright for mere moments before it's shielded once more. You walk under it, further into the woods where Joel's animal traps lay, where kindling lays against the bases of trees, knocked loose by the storm. You gather the damp branches idly, gingerly checking the snares that yield little success in the over-picked glade.

It's the small bit of pale color in the corner of your vision that makes you pause, turn to examine the strange flora that sprouts from the remains of a rotted log. Mushrooms, the kind untouched by the apocalypse, reclusive and now rare. Their small, ridged, white caps poke from the deciduous ground, and as you gently pad over, kneel with your legs in the soft, damp earth to examine them, you can't help but wonder if they're edible.

You reach for them, dirt smeared fingers outstretched, eyes enraptured by the silent, strange symbolism of them.

The snap of a branch behind you.

You gasp, twist so violently you fall on your bottom, kindling spilling and fingers fumbling for the knife at your waist to whatever predator has stalked you through these woods. You draw it up with a trembling grasp, holding the blade outwards even as your arms try to draw into yourself as a shield from danger.

You expect a wolf, or perhaps a mountain lion or lynx. Yet standing before you is none of those things. Instead, it's a man, standing at a distance, his hands held up in a gentle entreaty, brow furrowed in concern. His looming stature towers over your fallen form, eyes gentle as he realizes he's startled you.

It occurs to you then, in gazing into his blue-eyed stare, that you know this man.

"Bear." You breathe at last, muscles loosening. Yet even then you don't tuck away the blade entirely, lowering it enough for Bear to ease his stance, wet his lips before he speaks.

"I- uhm, didn't mean to startle you." He offers, and still does not yet lower his hands from either side of his head in surrender, keeping them well away from the rifle slung over his shoulder. "I was doing a patrol, thought maybe you heard me coming."

You blink, and his soft, rumbling voice manages to slow your stammering heartbeat. The cool, damp earth presses into your lower back, with you braced against the rotten log like it can somehow provide you shelter.

When you don't speak, Bear's eyes flicker to the mushrooms you were so close to touching, and there's a flicker of amused disbelief that tugs the corner of his mouth, makes a single eyebrow raise.

"...Sure you want to eat those?" He tries to joke, and the humor should relax you but it doesn't. Instead, with Bear's massive form standing over you a distance away, your mind summons memories of a dark figure backlit by a roaring campfire, the glint of a blade held in his hand. He steps towards you in your memories, even as you scramble backwards in the snow, feet kicking uselessly as he advances on you-

"You alright?"

Bear's voice breaks the memory, and your eyes flicker up to his once more, seeing the confusion and concern etched across his gaze.

You try to speak, you do, but instead your mouth opens and closes uselessly, hands shaking as you try to erase the hands that reach for you, haul a knife far above your fallen form-

Bear must see the panic written across your gaze- something foreign to him that chokes the moist air from your chest and threatens to send you drowning in your own thoughts, into a memory which has no end.

"Hey." He offers quietly, and as you try to control the mounting gasp of panic inside you Bear gentles himself, remains steadfast, softening at the edges under your eyes. "Hey, look at me."

You watch as he sinks lower, keeping his eyes on yours all the while to see any fear his movements spawn in you. Yet you watch as Bear goes down to one knee, makes himself smaller, less intimidating. He's still not quite at your height, but it's fairly close, and he no longer stands above you, dwarfing you with his size.

Whatever he sees in your gaze, it must be enough for him to understand, because his shoulders ease, and he exhales a soft sigh through his nose. The beard partially covers the tight, concerned draw of his mouth as he regards you like an injured animal, fearful and in need of aid.

"It's alright" He offers in a rumble that reminds you of the clearing rainstorm above, dampening the soft earth under your form. "I'm not going to hurt you."

It's the tone of his voice, more so than his words, that allows the tremble in your hands to abate, lets your grasp fall to your lap as it holds the blade Joel gifted to you.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He tells you again, and there's something akin to regret in his eyes. It's enough to make you blink, to make the memory of a silhouette gently wash away from your thoughts.

The air in your chest loosens, and you swallow, remember how to breath. When Bear watches you force yourself to exhale, long and slow, there's a smile that crinkles the corner of his eyes.

He doesn't coo over you, doesn't offer praise or patronize you the way so many others have before in response to your terror. Instead he remains where he is, the offer from him silent but transcending words.

Come to me when you're ready. I'll wait.

As the rainstorm at last lifts from the heavens, you see Bear in a new, radiant light.

---

It's a gradual process, the closing of the distance between you and Bear.

It's caught in the moments in between, the morning greetings that slowly turn into conversations, the offerings of favors that are returned in kind. You leave breakfast for the boys in a basket on the steps to the hayloft- bread, boiled eggs, some milk, a tin of coffee and cups to match. It's simple fare, and you at the beginning leave it and then dart away before they can thank you. Yet soon you find Bear awaiting you when you arrive just after dawn, sitting on the ladder and a weary but pleased smile on his lips. The soft 'Thank you's turn into exchanges about chores, about the day ahead, and soon transform into other things entirely.

You find yourself liking his company. Bear has a gravity to him that feels like the pull of a riptide at your feet, dragging you further into the sound of his voice. Yet it doesn't push you under, doesn't force waves crashing above your head. Instead, you simply float in the goodness of him, and often wonder about the things that lurk beneath.

You see it sometimes in the way he talks with his men, the steeliness of his eyes that changes into flinty resolve at the mere mention of danger. Unblinking, acute, nearly cataclysmic. It startles you the first few times you see it, when there's a noise that's too loud in the distance, the sound of an animal crying out in surprise or pain. Whereas you are jumpy, nervous at the same things, Bear spins, muscles coiled and tense, ready at any moment to attack, defend, conquer.

Once, while you two linger outside the barn one morning, you hear Caulder shout as he descends down the hill. You don't even have time to process it before Bear has one arm pushing you behind him, against the wall of the barn, the words he was rumbling a mere heartbeat ago now dead in his throat. There's a hand on his pistol, and when you grasp his arm in surprise he seems not to notice you, eyes glinting but dark in their intensity. You don't see him breathe until his gaze lands on Caulder, who rights himself from a short tumble down the steep slope with a curse and a kick at a stray rock.

You wonder about the things Bear has seen, the things he's done to warrant that look in his eyes. Ready to sear the world to ashes at a moment's notice, drown himself in the smoke that spills from his open, scarred palms.

You sometimes wonder if it will burn you too if you get too close.

Bear is gentle with you, that much is obvious. There's an interest there, as if he's found a beautiful, wild creature in the woods, is trying not to scare you off. He allows you to come to him, lets himself be open and ready to see you take a step forward. It's familiar to you, somehow, reminds you in some ways of a pair of almost sorrowful brown eyes that feel like cinders flickering against your gaze.

Yet the more time you begin to spend around Bear, the more Joel becomes quieter, withdrawn. There's an odd pinch to his face you catch sometimes when you mention Bear, a tight draw of his lips that speaks of emotions he'll never say out loud. It's hard to tell if he's just concerned for you, if he doesn't entirely trust Bear, or if there's still secrets inside him he refuses to show you. Sometimes he turns from you after you've disagreed with him on something, and you catch only a glimpse of the hurt lurking under his gaze.

You want to draw him back to you, want the familiar feeling of the two of you in mutual, comfortable silence as the fire burns in the hearth come evening. Yet when you dare to reveal the barest sliver of your heart, your worries and doubts to Joel, his voice instead meets you with that gruff, distant tone that hides the true confines of his barely mended heart. He's too afraid to let you get closer, too scared of being broken again, even if he refuses to tell you the thing that did it in the first place.

Joel is your shelter, you think. He's the canopy of the forest that shields you from the driving rain, the trees that offer a solemn, needed silence from the chaos of your thoughts. You walk alongside him, feel the shifting silence of him like the rustle of branches. The calm, protective respite of him allows you a grace you desperately need, a place to nestle the hurt fringes of your soul. Yet the deep loom of shadows that lurk in the woods feels so much like the hidden words that you can see scarcely concealed in his gaze.

There's mysteries left in him you'll never understand.

Bear, by contrast, is a the bright, licking heat of a campfire. The gentle glow of him in the distance brings you closer, beckons your cold hands into the warmth of him. You bask in the entrancing flicker of him, watch with glinting eyes the dance of the flames, unable to look away. It tugs something in your chest that wants more but knows that if you reach your hands into the flare that you might somehow breathe in the flames, allow him to burn the hollow of your ribs to make space there just for him.

It takes time for you to notice, but you see the way Bear holds himself in his frustration, in the vague mentions of before that you hear Caulder and the others murmur about in hushed tones. There's something in Bear that has been broken long ago, and the pain of it threatens to bubble to the surface, snap like the sudden crack of a log that sends sparks scattering up into the nighttime sky. It's a dangerous, searing thing that he refuses to show to you no matter how much it consumes him. A ferocious, burning brightness that sets himself ablaze to keep others warm, even if it means turning to cinders as a result.

Instead, he sets his gaze upon you. You see embers dance in the darkness of his pupils, a hypnotizing temptation that you want to touch even though it might singe the edges of your soul. The presence of him threatens to burn your world to ashes, if only so he can lift you from the carnage and into his hands, cradle you there until you surrender to him.

You find yourself drawn to it anyways. You feel the frost and cold embrace of your dreams chased away by the too-bright flicker of his warmth. While Joel keeps you safe, shelters you, it's Bear who melts the remnants of frostbite from your weary spirit, opens you up into the warmth of sunlight.

There's a night where you awake in darkness, feel the dreaded whisper of snow and an icy grave lick at the tumult of your thoughts, and find yourself rising from your bed. You stand on the porch, staring at the campfire on the rise, and in some strange semblance of gravity find yourself pulled there. The cold wind licks at your skin as you huddle your jacket and shawl around you, boots digging into the damp earth as you climb. You're not sure how you know Bear is there keeping watch, but when you appear at the perimeter of the fire he doesn't seem surprised to see you either.

You perch a way away from him, sitting on a log and feeling the flames dance in your gaze. Bear is quiet but alert, watching you from the periphery of his eyes even as he scans the wilderness for signs of approaching danger. Ever the watchman, the guardian, the pyre.

"I had a nightmare." You whisper, and for a moment you think your voice has been swallowed by the wind. It's childish, you think. Like a little girl huddling in the darkness jumping at shadows. When you look up, Bear is gazing at you unblinkingly, his eyes a little mournful, the flames glinting against his eyes.

"Tell me." He offers quietly, and you feel like his ribs crack open so he can hold you that much closer to his chest.

Your heart clenches.

He's different, you realize. Joel will shake you from your nightmares, will allow you the safety to regain yourself, but he won't open himself to you. If you try to spill your fears to him he'll tell you only a 'It's fine. You're safe' and refuse to let the bitterness linger. Yet here is Bear, asking, opening his palms so you can drop yourself and your aching fright into his warm gaze.

So, you do. You tell Bear all the things you've never spoken of to Joel. You share the story carved into your heart. You tell him about escaping the Seattle QZ, fleeing from the infighting caused by rebels along with a group of others. You tell him about entrusting yourself to a pair of older smugglers along with several others and running into the wilderness in search of a settlement. You tell him about the long harsh nights sleeping in abandoned houses, of eating meager rations not knowing where your next meal would come from.

You don't tell him about how the smugglers demanded payment.

The chill of your fingers is warmed as you press them to your chest to quell the ache there, grimacing at the pain of remembering. Yet you feel unable to stop, a drain unplugged and letting your sorrows circle downwards bit by bit until you feel almost empty with them. Bear listens, asking soft questions as you speak, allowing you the space you need even as your eyes water, staring up into the starry sky to keep them at bay.

You tell him about the night it all fell apart.

Raiders. The same kind that have attacked the outlying farms here in Jackson's territory. They caught your group unaware as you slept, and you awoke to screams, bloody impacts of blades, the snow turning red under your boots. The memory of a man backlit by the fire, advancing upon you with long, horrifying strides briefly makes your chest seize, your eyes go glassy and unseeing as they stare forwards.

Bear's hand grazes against yours, as if he's scared to touch you, as if you yourself are the flames. Yet when you don't pull away he presses closer, soon wraps his arms around you as you sag into the embrace, realizing after a moment just how starved you were for the warmth of another person. You don't cry, instead breathing in the strong, smoky scent of him that washes maple over your senses. Like a forest fire, the grief in you is slowly cindered away. In its place, soft green blooms sprout from the ashes.

You stay up on the rise until early dawn, dozing gently against Bear's side. Safe. Protected. At last, he rouses you just as scant light peeks over the horizon, chuckles at your sleepy murmur and then reminds you that you'll be missed if you linger. There's a bitterness in his gaze as he says it, and you blink upon realizing he wishes you didn't already belong to someone else. You want to tell him, want to tell him about the tear in your heart, want to confess to him the way you want Joel in the way you can only have Bear. Instead, you pad down into the valley below, trying to discern the conflict of your feelings.

Joel is waiting for you when you arrive at the house. It's still dark. The form of him is hazy around the edges with the glow of the lantern in the window. He's sitting on the steps, but as you approach he stands abruptly.

"Where were you?" He asks, voice dipping gruff and low in the way that means he's worried.

You feel something unpleasant squirm in your chest at the pinched look on his face, caught between vexation and regret. It sours the afterglow of your shared words with Bear, making you duck your head and sidle past him into the house.

"I was with Bear." You murmur as you pause in the doorway, not looking at him but imagining that maybe his eyes look hurt. You give a moment to let your words linger before you vanish from his sight.

------

It's often, after that, that you hike up to the rise to share Bear's company.

It's a shy, entreating thing at first, as you hesitate at the edge of the campfire and offer a 'Can I join you?' that Bear only smiles at and nods to the seat beside him. You hover at his side for a bit, fidgeting and conveying little bits of conversation, unsure of yourself yet wanting desperately to lean into him again, feel the warmth of his form leech into yours.

You have to fight down the feeling of guilt at being here with him. You have to remind yourself that you aren't Joel's, that you confessed to Joel only to be rebuffed, that the distance he's put between you two is the result of his own doing. You tried to tell him, tried to say you wanted to stay with him, but the memory of his eyes looking into yours with that emotion- guilt. Like he blamed himself for keeping you close.

You want him still. You want him to hold you the way Bear does. You want to feel his arms around you, want to huddle into him and be warmed by his shelter. Yet the more you drift to Bear for that exact thing, the more distance grows between you and Joel, and the further the pit of guilt opens up in your stomach. It’s selfish, what you’re doing, but you ache to be held, to be listened to, to have someone willing to open up to you the way Bear does.

You try instead to shed it away as you talk in slow, rambling tones with Bear. You talk about the day's events, about the news you get from Jackson, about the aches and complains from Caulder and the others. Eventually the topic drifts, and soon there's laughter and smiles between you both, eyes glinting with the sparks of the fire. You share with Bear the trials and tribulations of living here, as well as the deep, profound joy you've found within your healing. Bear welcomes it, tells you stories about his men, about him and Caulder from the before, their training and oath and brotherhood.

You begin to look forward to your evenings with Bear, begin bringing coffee up onto the rise with you and relish in the way his eyes light up at the scent. You stack kindling during the day for you to burn at night, watch as Bear chops extra wood to keep the fire burning brightly. There's smiles passed between you in the daytime, a deeply blossoming friendship that murmurs of something deeper you try desperately to ignore.

One evening, after a rainstorm has cleared and there's a gentle haze that dims the stars, Bear looks to the sky and tells you in a soft confession about the day that changed everything.

Friday, September 26th, 2003.

The day it all went wrong.

The team had just gotten back from a mission abroad, killing a man who had a hand in the death of one of their own. Yet no sooner had they put boots on the ground in Virginia Beach were they ordered to lift off once more, not given a chance to even eat due to the urgency of their mission- escorting an ambassador out of growing unrest in the Middle East. Bear and the others had already heard murmurs by that point, strange stories in the media of martial law in Indonesia. Yet it wasn't until their mission that the understood.

Infected. People who had become sick, had changed into something not human, things that didn't stop even when you shot them. Bear explains how he and the others had lost the ambassador, that one of their own, Trevor, had tried to rescue him, only to be killed himself. He tells you how the remaining five of them had spent ten hours in the air wondering if the world ended before they could get home.

They had returned to a nightmare. Infected had swarmed the city, and Bear and the others wasted no time in combing the carnage in search of their families. Fish, Chase, watched their worlds crumple before their eyes in grief, their families already lost. Buddha was the one to find his wife and children safe but not unharmed, and the group had spent the next week escorting them to the Atlanta QZ and leaving Buddha with them.

Bear doesn't mention his own family. You don't ask.

After that they moved west, towards a daring dream of California where they imagined Caulder's daughter was. They had kept up hope for years, trying to find a trace of her, only to come up empty handed. Eventually they drifted east again, traveling as mercenaries for hire, falling back on their skills as soldiers to survive. Years later they ended up in Jackson, and there they had stayed. They rest, they say, was history.

Bear relays the story with tightly concealed emotion, focusing only on events and facts, refusing to show the aching hurt inside him even as he opens himself up to yours. Even so, you can see it in his eyes, can see the regret and pain linger there when he dares to glance at you. He's burning himself, and you desperately wish the rain would return to douse the grief inside his chest. Your heart aches for him, and you fall asleep on his shoulder, eyes damp with hurt for the things he's lost.

The crackle of the fire drifts softly against your senses, merging with the rustle of the wind over the hills and Bear's soft, quiet breathing. It soothes against you, drags you down into a gentle doze where you're tucked against his shoulder.

---

You awake with a start as Bear stiffens against you, sucking in a breath and adjusting the rifle in his grip. You shift, rouse against his side, blink blearily and try to process the words Bear has just murmured down at you.

"Get to the cabin."

You snap to, standing with him as he rises to his feet. His form is coiled tightly, a white-knuckle grip on the rifle. When you glance into his eyes the orange glint of flames dances darkly in his gaze, jaw clenched and shoulders taut as he readies himself for the threat he sees in the distance. When you follow his stare, you see it, the shapes and shadows of riders on the next hill over, dark against the night sky.

Raiders.

Bear's voice is a dragging, smoky growl down at you, one hand loosing from the rifle to gently push you in the direction of the valley below.

"Now."

When you run down the hill, the devastating, thunderous sound of Bear's rifle echoes out in the midnight like an omen of destruction.

Joel is at the porch with his own rifle by the time you reach the edge of the barn, and when he calls your name it's with a shout, a scream you've never once before heard him use. It chills your blood, threatens to crack the heavens above your form. You race towards him, shawl fluttering from your shoulders as Bear's rifle once more fires into the dark, as hoofbeats echo down from the rise, as your world alights in destruction.

Caulder and the others were awakened by the first shot, armed by the second, and now as the raiders descend into the valley below they spill from the barn onto their own horses. It takes mere moments for the world around you to be consumed by the shaking ground under you, the approaching sound of riders behind you as you hurl yourself back towards Joel, legs pumping and eyes wide with terror.

You watch as Joel lifts his rifle, points it in your direction just as the shrill whinny of a horse closes in on your form. The echo of it shatters in the dark, and you stumble and fall just as Joel's aim finds the rider less than ten steps behind you, his rider-less horse racing mere feet past your fallen form.

Joel screams your name once more, in that holler that trembles the earth around you, and you stumble to your feet only to feel the side of you alight in warmth. You turn, eyes horrified as they reflect the flickering flames of a torch just as it reaches the woodpile stacked against the barn.

"NO!!" You scream, now pointing yourself in the direction of the blaze. Shots ring out around you, hoofbeats and shouts and whistles the only sounds in the world, muffling the growing flames that lick at the wood panels of the barn. You barely hear them, thinking instead about the animals you and Joel have spent so much time caring for, the lambs that you had watched him catch as hope bloomed in his eyes.

It takes effort to tip over the rain barrel at the edge of the barn onto the growing blaze, smoke stinging your eyes and clogging your throat. The flames are higher than you now, and as you use a bucket to slosh water higher you pray to whatever god will listen that the flare doesn't reach the hayloft.

Hands grab at you, and instinctively you scream, push back at whatever attacker has seized you. Yet Joel's voice pierces your thoughts, and when you turn you see the panic written clear across his gaze. The fire glints off both your forms, and for the briefest of moment you see Joel's lips form the words "It's me."

Together the two of you race towards the barn door, with Joel at your back lifting his rifle towards the shadowy riders that circle your homestead. It takes effort to haul open the gates inside, releasing first the horses, and then braving the growing smoke towards the sheep. They hesitate, frightened inside their corral, so you launch yourself in and scare them from the pen, watching as they spill towards the barn doors. Joel stands there as they dart in the direction of the pasture, and once more you beg the heavens that Caulder and the others can distract the raiders long enough for them to get away.

Smoke smarts against your vision now, descending heavy as the hayloft begins to catch. Yet you manage to release the other two pens of sheep before at last trying to make your way towards the barn door. As you do, you hear a terrified bleat, eyes wet as you turn towards a forgotten lamb who'd been injured in the surge. Despite the heavy smoke descending from the ceiling, you stumble and scoop the little one into your arms, desperately coughing and blinking as you fumble in search of the door. You try and follow the sound of Joel's voice, feeling heat sear against your skin.

Hands seize on your form, dragging you along as you wheeze and splutter, until at last  you're hauled into the cool night air, grass sticking to your knees as you collapse. You fall forward so your head braces on the ground, still clutching the lamb tightly in your arms as you heave for air. The sound of gunshots is muffled down by the roar of the inferno, heat searing at your back. Yet the earth trembles less, the shouts and whistles have faded to infrequent rifle shots that make you flinch with each round.

You don't know how long you stay down on the ground, coughing up smoke and feeling the lamb in your tightly clutched hold tremble with you. The acrid smell of smoke fills your nose, clogs your thoughts and summon the vision of a man backlit by flames, his blade raised as he brings it down on your form.

"J-Joel-" You gasp, one arm stretching out in front of you. Your chest splutters, lungs heaving with each breath. You're so cold despite the raging fire of the barn, frostbite lingering on your lips as you try to breathe.

Hands reach for you, raise you up and soon you're dragged into an embrace, face streaked with tears and ash. You drag in a gasping suck of air that looses as sob, warmth spilling from the corner of your eyes as you struggle to breathe and cry all at once. The arms holding you smell like gunpowder and smoke and maple, holding you fast as you collapse into them. A hand grasps at his jacket, and you dare to hope that maybe, maybe the person holding you is the one you want.

Bear's face blinks into your gaze.

He presses you back to his chest before he can see the conflict in your eyes, refusing to let himself see the things that might hurt him, refuses to let you see his own pain at the look in your eyes. On his knees, his rifle discarded beside him, he drags you to him, shushes you when sobs crack in your throat, confused and hurt and wanting.

Another hand settles on your shoulder, and you don't need to look up to see who it is. Joel's grasp is solid, familiar, and you raise a hand up to grasp at his sleeve as if he might pull away. yet it only draws Bear's arms tighter around you as a result, as if trying to shield you and keep you with him just a little longer.

"You're okay." He hushes into your hair as you sob, cough up smoke, caught between the forest and the blaze as your world burns to ash. "We've got you."

"We're here. You're safe."

“You’re safe.”

Taglist:

(Please reblog this post to be added to the taglist for the final update)

@yeyinde @alittlefansthings @joebeargraves @moriflos @aeoncss @havenforafrazzledmind @littlemisspascal @zwiiicnziiix

Starting off as a Human Cleric; met Shadowheart, Lazael and Astarion 😃

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One Night In Vegas

Waking up in Vegas during a girls weekend away was the perfect way to get over your ex, after finding his dating profile online. However, you expected to wake up alone... Not next to a giant of a man with a familiar tattoo and with his ring on your finger.

TW. Mentions of previous relationship, drunken shenanigans, smut, kissing, consummation of a marriage, talk of tattoos and blood.

Captain John Price x reader.

You roll over, pulling the sheet over your naked body as you stir, the effects of last night making your brain foggy. You knew you should have stopped at a few of those fruity drinks, but with your friends encouragement, you probably had more than you could count.

A low rumble breaks the silence of the hotel room, and a warm arm snakes over the bed and rests on your hip. You feel a warm body press into you from behind, and fear gets stuck in your throat.

You push the hand away and spring out of bed, clutching the sheet to your frame.

"Who are you?" You exclaim, your voice shaky with fear. As far as you could remember, you went to bed alone, not with this huge bear of a man.

You hear him chuckle, and he holds a hand up, a silver band glistening in the morning sun.

"I'm John, but i guess you could call me yours." he smiles.

You look down at your hand, a matching silver band on your finger, and look back at him in shock, unable to speak.

"Why so shy, love? You couldn't wait to make things official last night." he says gruffly, a little pink in the cheeks.

He reaches for you, and you finally take it in that there is a very naked man in your bed, and you are holding the sheet. Your face beet red as you find yourself staring. Your eyes scan over his body, before they settle on a tattoo.. a familiar tattoo..

"Where did you get that tattoo?" you blurt out.

He raises an eyebrow at your question, but you point at his ink.

"141, my brother has the same number, and insignia."

"Now, love. Get dressed and i'll explain everything."

💚

You raise an eyebrow. "Be a gentleman and turn around." you say as you dive into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, you catch your glossy eyes and as your gaze follows down your body. Various teeth marks and pink marks adorn your neck and chest. You let out a gasp as you take it all in, cheeks flushed as you remembered how you gave yourself to him, again and again.

Your memories come flooding back as you notice fingerprints on your hips, it all ringing in your ears as you remember every detail, every touch, every kiss, every inch of skin explored.

You close your eyes and trail your fingertips over the bruised flesh. Flashes of John over your body, caressing your soft skin, trailing hot, feverish kisses along your neck, fingers intertwined with yours as he rocked his hips against yours, taking pleasure in your bodies.

"From the gasp, i gather you remember," Comes the gruff voice from the doorway. John appears, dressed in jeans and a khaki green t shirt

You scramble to get dressed, and after sliding on your band tee and zipping up your jeans, you throw him a look. Stood tall, your husband takes over the bathroom, his broad shoulders eclipsing you as he turns to face you in the mirror.

Not breaking eye contact, he softly pulls your hair away from your face, and plants a tender kiss on your shoulder.

"I guess i should start with the obvious, love." He huffs, a smile tugging on his upper lip.

"My full name is Captain John Price. i'm in the same unit as your brother, who knew i was in the area and to keep an eye on you."

"Johnny asked- i don't need a BABYSITTER." You roll your eyes. John turns you so you are facing him, your defiant gaze staring up at him.

"Yet here we are, love." His voice rumbles around the tiny room.

He takes your left hand in his, your band heavy on your mind.

"I'll be blunt. If you want an annulment, it'll take 6 weeks, but as for my part. I'm in. I'm older than the rest of the guys in the unit. I want someone I can settle with."

You scoff, pulling your hand away.

"You want to settle down with me? But we don't know each other?"

John looks in your eyes.

"Do you ever think Johnny didn't talk about you? I know your favourite snack, your favourite colour, movie, what allergies you have, your taste in music, the last time you went to the theatre. And after last night, I know the face you make when you come. I know the taste of you on my fingers, on my tongue. I know you come undone when I kiss your jawline. I know how you like to be made love to."

He pauses.

"A lot more relationships have less. Give me six weeks. If you still want an annulment. I'll give it to you."

You stand there with your jaw open. Your face flushed, your thoughts scrambled.

"W-why me?" You stutter. Still in shock. The gall of him to be so personal with you.

"Why not you. Clearly you liked something enough to drag me to the Chapel last night. Might I add, you make such a pretty bride." His gaze flickers over your body, a desperate hunger in his eyes.

"And I fear, more than anything, your brother is playing matchmaker. He knows you were single, and he knows I was looking for a partner. So, what do you say? 6 days?. That enough time for you to fall for me?" He teases.

You take in the information. 6 days with John, as your husband. Or back home to a cheating ex and an empty house.

"Deal." You say, holding out your hand.

He scoffs, before taking it into his giant hand, his large fingers enveloping yours, as he pulls you in and places his lips on yours softly.

"Sealed with a kiss, wife."

A/N this is part one. As I feel its long enough already! Part two is being written right now and will be up in a hour. Thank you to all who have supported me so far!!!

Edited to 6 days instead of weeks!

@xoxunhinged @misshugs @thevoiceinyourheadx @frudoo @rynbeerose @muneca-lemon-steppa @shadowdark00 @enjisbf 💚💚💚💚💚💚

I have forgotten where I left off but I am going to continue this eventually 😌

Oracle!Reader Part 22

Masterlist - Part 1, Part 21, Part 23

Warnings: Sagau Imposter au reader with lots of gore and stuff. Minors are warned but not prohibited.

“What a shrewd mortal you are.” The snake hisses as she travels down Baizhu’s arm to face you better. The V-shaped tongue does little to hide the ivory fangs hidden in her maw.

“I appreciate the compliment, but I suggest you reserve your judgment for the main topics of our discussion.”

“Arrogant too, I see!” An amused scoff leaves Changsheng at your bold words, all while Baizhu’s smile remains unchanging. After shutting the door behind him, he keeps his arm perched for Changsheng before sitting on the small stool near the bed.

“It seems you’re feeling much better now than last night. Are you experiencing any pain or discomfort?” 

“None at all.” You lie politely. Getting tied down here any longer than the decided discharge time would be a hassle. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.” Baizhu trails off to write something down on the paper he’s holding as Changsheng decides to start the discussion. Despite her small body, she speaks with the same pride the Adepti held. 

“We are already well aware of your body’s abnormalities. But in order for us to get a proper grasp of the scar tissue culture, you’ll need to answer some personal questions.”

Smiling without a hint of unease, you respond as you sit up to face them. “Seems you’re quite interested in me. Or should I say suspicious?”

A swift denial is what you expect. Maybe a truthful answer showcasing her confidence could happen too.

“Does a human who would rather hide their face, rather than accept the consequences of being bare, have any right to question my curiosity?”

Snakes are known to be sly for a reason. Baizhu’s slight upturned eyes at Changsheng’s words only solidify that belief further.

“I guess it was a dumb question.” You shrug, the subtle jab rolling off you with ease. “I am quite popular, I strongly doubt that you've had a patient quite like me.”

Your teeth are bared in a grin at Changsheng, fully aware of what the display means to the animal. 

She merely hmph’s at you before turning her head to the side as Baizhu cuts in amicably.

“Depending on what I discover in this sample, your words may be true Y/N. Why not first explain how you are the Creator’s oracle?”

Lips pursing as your eyes travel to the side of the room, your finger taps rhythmically on your chin. Wondering, contemplating on how you should answer.

At your silence, Changsheng’s eyes narrow as if she's frowning, while Baizhu’s smile turns almost sympathetic.

“I wouldn't pry into this matter as your physician, but as being an adventurer is your official occupation, I felt the need to question this Oracle one. Quite a few jobs connected to The Creator tend to manifest some otherwise unseen conditions.”

If one looked at it on the surface, they would see a concerned doctor looking to take all situations in accouint. But all you see is an ill person investigating a promising lead.

Baizhu’s quest for immortality was always closely connected to the Adepti, and you just had to be outed by a disciple of one.

“It's not like that child was the only one to refer to you as such. Why would an Oracle even hide such basic information from trusted acolytes like ourselves?”

Changsheng’s tone is scathing, and her question is sarcastic. The hot and cold of the pair’s demeanor and words were easy to recognize.

The kind of tactic they were trying to pull on you was the classic ‘good cop, bad cop’ schtick. 

Baizhu’s honeyed words were to coax the information from someone nervous and fearful, while Changsheng’s harshness was meant to pressure and intimidate someone into spilling. 

Something this dubious in a medical setting shouldn't exist. At least not yet, anyway. Most medical malpractice from eras in the past were born from discrimination, religious propaganda and general inexperience of the human anatomy and physiology.

It sure as hell shouldn't work on any sane adult, let alone from someone like Baizhu who is widely trusted but also suspected.

But then you think back on the kind of people that exist in Teyvat. The strange practices seen as normal, the terrifying yet mesmerizing creatures that roam, and your cult…

Yeah, more than one person must have bent to their will. While you doubt it was done with any bad intention. The fact of the matter is that Baizhu could have removed your mask, but clearly didn't. It still wasn't right.

Then again, why should you care? As long as you keep yourself in check to not reveal any more than necessary, then you were satisfied with that.

No need to play hero in a world that can't see past someone's physical features. The heart you once had that urged you to try and change to become a better person has already been burned away.

“Well, this is classified information, but I do have approval to explain my unique circumstances in these kinds of cases.”  

Your smile is sheepish as you tilt your head and avoid their matching piercing gaze. As if you caved into their words and finally came clean.

“I suppose you can say that being an adventurer is my day job, as my true mission is to uncover the truths behind cult members and acolytes alike on their devotion to the Holy One.”

Baizhu’s smile widens, just a smidge at your words. Changsheng is not nearly as impressed and hisses out her first question.

“And how does that justify the matching scars along your body to the Almighty?”

Just how did Changsheng get to say such brutal questions without being frowned upon? Probably because she's a talking snake.

Many adults in this world probably find it unimaginable and fear her, thinking she's on the level of an Adepti. Others may view her as almost unreal and much like a doll to be played with, downplaying her words and sharp intellect like a child.

You just find her as surreal as a dream; Almost detached in a way from the sheer absurdity of a talking snake. It's only thanks to your knowledge from when you were a player that you can see her for herself.

Smiling, you reply to her question with a carefully constructed answer. Admittedly, this question was always one you were afraid of encountering.

“This body belongs to The Creator, and The Creator alone. When I was first summoned by the Almighty and commanded of my mission, they desired to mark me in a way that no one could deny as a connection to them. I chose to be scarred in the same fashion as them.”

A wide smile, almost manic in nature, stretches across your mouth. Calloused fingers intertwined before covering your lips as if to coyly hide. 

“And what better way is there? A subtle yet bold imprinting of the Creator’s hold over me. A way to experience the suffering our poor God must have gone through to be branded like that.”

Words spoken colorfully are nearly purred before you're left with uncontrollable giggles. You finally calm down with a dreamy sigh as you look at the contracted partners.

Baizhu and Changsheng are silent throughout your whole act. The only movement made was them sharing a glance.

And there is only one emotion you can see bloom so vividly in their exchanged eyes. 

Discomfort.

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

It's safe to say that neither of them asked any more questions about the matter. Changsheng basically fled the room to “bask in the sun on the windowsill in the hall rather than stay with a human like that.”

You don't take any offense to it. In fact, you're overjoyed that your act worked. The only way to stop them from coming to the natural question of: “Does this mean their face is also like the Creator’s?” was to stop them from wanting to think on that train of thought.

It's exactly why you've been so careful to not let your body be so exposed. At least in regard to your torso, as scars on limbs are much easier to disregard.

Acting as a fanatic really was one of the best and easiest ways to throw off suspicion. No one really tries to dig for anything from a crazy person. After all, they have no sensible rhyme or reason to their actions.

It, of course, came with its own risks. Doing it too much will make people think that you’re actually insane rather than just unstable and will never trust you. And even the act itself can only work in certain situations with the right people, or else everything will fall apart.

That’s why you only use it when you see no other choice like now. Both Baizhu and Changsheng are under confidentiality agreements to not speak about you as a patient and considering the normal behavior for believers, your actions shouldn’t be too taboo.

Just a tad bit surprising.

The feather-light tap on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts as you look at the ever-present smile on the doctor. Baizhu sits back down on the stool once he’s sure he has your attention before speaking.

“Since you’ve explained more than enough about your background, we can move on to taking a culture sample of the scar tissue.” Your eyes roam the room for any tools needed for the procedure, and furrow when you fail to find any.

“At least that’s what I would say if I didn’t take it during the initial treatment.” If Baizhu wasn’t such a good doctor, you would ask if his license was revoked yet. This sure as hell doesn’t sound legal.

Annoyance must have been clear on your face as Baizhu leans a little closer to respond calmly. “I can assure you that this is very normal and practiced by many physicians. I just felt the need to tell you, as we agreed to you receiving a form of compensation.”

His eyes slither down your body to linger on where he must have taken the sample. “It would have been a hassle for us both if I waited till now to take it. I would have had to cut your skin after it healed so nicely, meaning you would be at risk for an infection.”

Baizhu may not be acting as obviously as a fanatic as you were earlier, but he was making you wildly uncomfortable. It’s a struggle to keep your body from tensing up under his growing gaze.

“So what did you choose as compensation? Last time we spoke about this, I don’t believe you had a set answer yet.”

With your mind reorienting back to how you can gain from this situation, you request your choice confidently.

“I want the strongest knock-out drug or sedation or whatever other name it goes by that you have. Something that can’t be obtained over the counter. Something that borders on being illegal.”

Was it strange to request this? It seems so, judging by Baizhu’s smile dropping as his eyebrows pinch together in what could be confused as worry.

But it’s a necessity to you.

Yelan and Shenhe couldn’t be dealt with due to the strength imbalance. That would take months, if not years, for you to get to a level where you can fight them one on one without using every means possible to win. Other acolytes exist that were even better than them, some that weren’t even human.

As the environment and tools in your disposal were much different and limited compared to when you were on Earth, you needed something more on the trap side. Having that weird, almost instant knowledge of weapons, elemental energy and rare bursts of power was the most you could ask for in combat. But it would be best to avoid combat if you can.

This drug would be the perfect way to.

“There are plenty of sleeping aids available over the counter. Why not choose from them rather than get a prescription for one from me?”

Baizhu is more than well aware of why you are requesting this, as he specifically addresses it as a mere ‘sleeping aid’. Whether he’s worried about you or for you doesn’t matter.

“I’m not questioning and probing for more answers as to how my tissue sample is so connected to your research. So you shouldn’t be trying to question mine, either.”

His whole face seems to light up at your swift and defensive response. “You have nothing to worry about, my dear.”

A smooth chuckle leaves him as he leans down to whisper into your ear from where you sit on the bed. “I’ll get you exactly what you desire and with any luck, my research will make leaps and bounds of progress.”

Goosebumps are raised across your skin as he stands back up straight. The square-framed glasses almost hiding the slitted golden eyes that try to devour you glint from the sunlight streaming in.

Baizhu leaves and you can finally breathe.

—----------------------

Time passes by slowly and with little options to cure your boredom, you find yourself engrossed in deciding which of Teyvat’s many delicacies you want to try. Last time you cooked on Beidou’s ship, the cooking laws followed the same logic as it did when you played the game.

It was one of the few perks you had from being the Creator. You had to make it count.

Even if it was just to distract yourself from overthinking the upcoming meeting with Ningguang.

It’s the wind’s echoing of the footsteps gradually getting louder that pull you out of the screen and back into the present. With a satisfying stretch, you sit up properly and yell a “Come in!” when a knock rings out.

Different shades of blue hair can be seen entering as Xingqiu strolls in with Chongyun behind him.

You greet them first with a toothy smile and lazy wave. “It's been a while since we last saw each other. Glad to see you both made it back here safely.”

Tension immediately leaves Xingqiu’s shoulders at your words, as Chongyun moves past him to take a hold of your shoulders.

“How could you be so reckless?!” His hair is slicked back, giving you a clear view of his pinched brows and lips bitten raw.

“The Adepti aren't beings to mess with, you could have really died!” Did he think the Adepti were responsible for your injuries? It would be the only logical conclusion, since Yelan chasing you was definitely a secret operation and Shenhe was just by chance.

“I shouldn't have let the confusing mess sweep me along, making me blindly listen to you. Maybe then you wouldn't have gotten this seriously hurt.”

He's hot, you blandly take note as his fingers dig into the clothing. It even seeped through your clothing, but you can't bring yourself to push him off.

Not when he's trying to hide how they shake as if he's the one shivering in a snowstorm.

“Why did you push us to leave with the victims? You and Xingqiu are eloquent enough to have convinced them to let you come back with us! How could you push us away?!”

… Was he trying to blame you? Briefly looking away from the frosty yet heated gaze of Chongyun, you glance at Xingqiu. His head is turned away, and he makes no effort to stop or step in.

“If you just let us help you rather than pushing us away, everything could have been avoided!” What the hell? “I should have just ran back when we were still close enough. Then you wouldn't have been so severely hurt.”

The constant whiplash of Chongyun’s words and emotions confused you. Grabbing his hands, you pry him off and pushed him away.

“I don't understand what you're trying to tell me. Okay, maybe better choices could have been made, but what's the point in dwelling on them now?” There's an annoyed bite to your tone that slips out.

Like gasoline to a fire, Chongyun explodes on you.

“What's the point?! The point is that you nearly died due to something that could have been prevented if we just thought a little harder! What if you died? What would you do then? Nothing! Because it'd be too late!”

His face is red as he yells, and his words feel like a forgotten consciousness crawling back to you. Infesting you with the long forgotten fear of what death had in store for you.

“So what?! That's for me to deal with, not you! If I die then, I die and if I live, then I live.” There's an ugly smile on your face that twists into a snarl. “You don't need to feel responsible for what happened, okay? So don't try to berate me and stew on what is already done.”

Jitters run through Chongyun’s body as he breathes loudly and takes a step forward-Only to get stopped by Xingqiu grabbing his arm.

“Stop it Chongyun. That's enough, your yang spirit is out of control and making you hotheaded.”

“But they-”

“Enough.” Xingqiu’s voice is firm as his grip visibly tightens around the joint. “Cool off inside the room or outside. It's your choice.”

Chongyun glares at Xingqiu before ripping his hand away and stomping to the corner. It's only with the distance that you can see how his fingers tremble worse than an addict.

The popsicle he pulls out is shoved into his throat as sweat visibly sticks to his skin and his haggard breathing becomes visible.

Maybe you should feel sympathetic, but all you can hear is his anger and accusations in your ears.

“Y/N…” Xingqiu’s voice calls out, and you finally get to see his face and take note of the slight red rim around his eyes.

He's been crying, you realize, and what makes it worse is how uncomfortable you feel at the sight.

“Chongyun was definitely in the wrong for getting so mad and starting the fight with you.” He glances over at the Cryo user, who refuses to look at either of you. 

You can spot faint bite marks dotting his fingernails.

“But it's not completely his fault either. He-We’ve been worried ever since we arrived at Liyue and never found you. We tried to-”

“That still doesn't make sense. Just why get so worked up over me missing a few days. I'm an adult, I'll be fine. Hell, I am fine!”

You're agitated and on edge, but for the life of you, you can't tell why. A small part of you, the sensible part of your brain, is already whispering that you're going too far, but you shut it down.

“Why even get mad at me about this? Why not the Adepti?!” Xingqiu’s silent stare at you is like needles prickling your skin.

The annoyance, frustration and confusion are what you cling to at this moment.

“Is it because they're firm believers of the Creator? Is it because you can't trust me as an Oracle?! Or is it because-”

“IT’S BECAUSE WE CARE!” Chongyun bellows out from his spot, whipping around to face you once more.

He takes long strides to you and reaches out his hands to touch you, to grab you-

But stops abruptly at your poorly hidden flinch. His expression morphs into something less fiery, with more hesitancy in his actions.

You let his hands awkwardly rest once again on your shoulders. But instead of the heat you experienced before, his fingers are cool but not cold.

“We were worried because we care about you.” Chongyun doesn't look the same as before. You decide to blame his hairstyle for that.

“I'm sorry for getting so worked up.” He starts slowly, his grip loosening with each word he utters. “I took the anger I had against myself on you, and I'm sorry for that.”

It's foreign to have them worry over your safety. To truly get this emotional over the thought of you dying.

But when you think back to your words and how you reacted in this whole argument, embarrassment creeps in.

“I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have snapped so easily and accused you guys of strange things.”

Yun Jin’s betrayal may have bothered you more than you realized. Not that you were unfamiliar with betrayal, but you didn't expect that a traditionally ‘good’ character would be so quick to sway.

The more you think about it, the more shame you feel.

“While I'm glad you both have made up for the high stress argument, I'm afraid we have more serious matters to discuss.”

Xingqiu’s words alert you both back into the present as he smoothly separates you from Chongyun.

“Ah, that's right, I almost forgot…” Chongyun mumbles to himself, only making you more confused on what the issue was.

“I'm not sure how, but the Qixing knew that you were the main party responsible for saving the kidnapped victims even before you arrived here in this state.”

What? 

The surprise must have been clear on your face as Xingqiu repeated his words and explained with more detail.

“Ganyu did arrive and focus the spotlight on her, but the Qixing immediately poked holes in it. The most adamant was the Yuheng.”

How would your incident with the Geovishap hatchling make Keqing believe you would save the children and not be the one to kidnap them?

The guild wouldn't disclose that information. It was literally stated on the contract Khan signed due to the seriousness of the commission. The breech in the confidentiality contract would be enough to warrant a lawsuit or legal action, they wouldn't risk it.

Did you talk to any guards about the case when searching for information? Anyone notable enough to report to Keqing?

It was no use, you couldn't remember all the details due to how long it's been since then.

“We thought that maybe you had already talked to her, so we brushed it off, but it got worse when we tried to go find you.”

Xingqiu gestures animatedly as he speaks. “Not only were there almost double the guards around the main entrances and exits, but I noticed at least four guards following me in the days leading up to your appearance.”

“We were repeatedly stopped from leaving and even when we tried leaving through unconventional ways, they still found us.” Chongyun finishes as he recounts the events.

“Only once were we able to leave the city in the dead of night, and it was the Yuheng herself that stopped us. She said that since we brought the victims back, she had reason to keep us in the city until further notice.”

Xingqiu scowls as he remembers the memory before cursing. “One hell of a convenient ass excuse.”

Chongyun finishes their story as he opens the curtain slightly and gestures to you to look out with him.

“This morning we both received letters saying we were free to leave now. It was just a few minutes later that we heard about you being brought here. And what do we see when we came to visit the first time?”

Following Chongyun’s line of sight, your breath catches at the sight of a Millelith guard hiding in a shaded area under a golden leaf tree.

“There’s even more in buildings and outside the window view.” Xingqiu adds as he takes the other side beside you.

Knuckles clutching the window sill tightly, you forcibly breathe in and out. Thoughts of just how long they've been watching you, what they could have done, and what they could have seen whirls around your brain.

All those Crystalflies, weasel thieves and the conversations you exchanged were now at risk of being exposed. With your heart thumping painfully loud in your chest, you wonder: What could they have already reported?

What was all your work in keeping out of the Qixing’s sight for? Ganyu didn't have much power, Keqing is set against you, Yun Jin betrayed you, Beidou’s gone and Ningguang already tried to off you with Yelan.

What did you possibly have left?

The two hands that lay on you startle but also ground you back to the present. Smooth skin and icy fingers draw your eyes to switch between the two vision holders.

“It'll be okay, Y/N. If they truly wanted to kill you, then they wouldn't have let you rest easily here.” 

“It's true, Ningguang once poisoned the water supply that specifically went to certain patients in a different clinic.”

And now you feel like shit again. It's not like you could trust Baizhu-you weren't even completely sure whether he intentionally hid the existence of the guards!

At your visible dampened mood, Chongyun lightly kicks Xingqiu’s shin, who only hisses at the pain before retaliating.

Watching them childishly fight like this is fun, a simple and small pleasure that you savor after all the bad news and confusing mysteries. 

That's right. You weren't alone. Not totally, at least.

It was painful to think about how your plan to avoid and leisurely please the Qixing failed, but it wasn't all over. Xingqiu and Chongyun thoroughly proved themselves on whose side they were on.

And if push came to shove, you could agree to marry Zhongli and let him deal with your problems.

“Don't worry too much, you two.” At your sudden but cryptic words, both of them stop and look at you.

Smiling serenely despite the turbulence your heart was suffering through, you give a vague explanation. 

“I already have a scheduled meeting with Ningguang. I'll either be praised by the masses as the oracle I am, or show up in a casket at the Wangsheng’s Funeral Parlor.”

Ending it with a sneaky grin, you press a finger to your lips. “I'm aiming for the third option of getting minor recognition before hitchhiking to Mondstadt.”

Rewriting this crap since TUMBLR KICKED ME OUT. I copy the ending that I wrote and only one word of it actually saved for me to paste. I wanna strangle this website. But anyway, got back from vacation, slept, unpacked and finished setting up everything properly after my editor finished. Just rechecked and turns out Tumblr also removed all the italics and bold which I had to re-add, how NICE I did manage to get a whole nice length chapter finished while I was away but I'm saving that for later as school is starting. I wanna have it there and post it in a while when I'm swamped while trying to get my school in order. So. Looking. Forward. To. It. :) I finished reading a few previous chapters to keep everything on track and wow. Y/N used to be so happy and hopeful lol. I would ask what happened but I’M what happened. It was still really fun to reread the adventure with Ayato. Perhaps it wasn’t obvious but Baizhu didn’t completely fall for the fanatic act. Changsheng trust her own judgement too much to look past the surface unless the person is visibly mysterious or pulling away. That’s why Baizhu could act the way he does despite the initial discomfort he felt (which was not faked) Taglist: Open as always!

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Presenting: Ted Raimi's ✨Hands✨

Skinner (1993)

Tempted to use a picture.... 🙃

If you’re a monster fucker, reblog this.