#cashewwritesstuff

The seagulls flew above them, like an angry swarm of bees. 

Fuyuhiko looked up, slipped his sunglasses on his face, and squinted his good eye. 

Fucking gremlins of the fucking sky. Thought they fucking knew shit. Stole his fucking dango. 

He picked up a rock from the shoreline, hearing the calming sea in the distance. 

The rock was gently tossed from hand to hand and Fuyuhiko pointed it at one of them, “I’m going to fucking kill you, you bastards!”

He let it fly. 

All at once, in slow motion, they dive-bombed him. 

“Shit! ShiT! SHIT! FUCKING BASTARD BIRDS, FUCK OFF! I’LL KILL YOU AND RIP YOUR FEATHERS OFF.”

The yakuza attempted to punch a bird. Several birds. 

A hill attempted to peck out his remaining eye. He smacked at it. 

Others nipped at his arms and shoulders. 

It wasn’t long before he covered his head with his arms and attempted to protect himself from the swarm of malicious bastards. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was like that, but he heard more obnoxious squawking above him and a flurry of movement. 

He opened his eye, peeking over his freckled arms. 

Peko stood over him in her swimsuit, arms outstretched in a protective stance. Her silvery hair flowed down her back in gentle waves. 

She turned her head towards him, stern, red eyes meeting his, “Fuyuhiko,” she murmured. “What did the birds do to you?”

He felt heat creep on his face, definitely not from the sun. 

“They stole my fucking dango again.”

He watches her back twitch violently as she sleeps, and wonders if she has phantom pains like he does. 

His sleepless, addled mind wanders to her holding him close, surrounded by robotic samurai, using her whole body and strength to protect him from the thousands of blades. 

Her final act as his shield. 

A tool. 

As the thought crosses his mind, a stabbing, then slicing pain races across his gut and where his right eye used to be.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

His jaw clenches tight, teeth grinding together. His whole body trembles, hands grabbing at his face, and he squeezes his good eye shut.

It will pass. It always does.

The guilt never does.

“Fuyuhiko?”

There’s movement in the bed after a moment. Her warm, calloused hands are on top of his, taking them away from his face. A thumb rubs circles in his palm. 

He lets out a shuddering breath and opens his eye, “Peko?”

Her deep, red eyes bore into his golden one. Digging into his soul, as they always did, and full of knowing. 

A smile stretches across her lips, a small attempt to show him comfort. 

His heart clenches painfully in his chest. 

She was hurting too. 

He intertwines his fingers with hers, matching their breathing. Becoming one. Equal. 

He doesn’t mind when she inches closer, pressing her forehead to his, and closes her eyes. 

He imagines that the pains fade to a dull ache when she’s with him and he with her. 

In the days following her awakening, she wasn’t able to meet his gaze. 

She could feel it on her constantly. 

When he sat with her as she gained her bearings and the memories of their despair plagued her, haunting her. 

When he watched her from the doorway as she struggled to get her strength back in the island’s dojo, she hoped he didn’t come help her. 

When she laid in bed next to him, feeling fleeting, stabbing pains in her back and mind seeing his bleeding body underneath her, lifeless. His eye sliced in half by her own blade. 

A small sigh escapes her as her heart and body aches. The bed shifts and she can hear quiet cursing behind her. 

As she turns, she sees him clutching his face, jaw tense, and teeth gritting. 

She takes in his trembling body and reaches out to him, hands over his. 

“Fuyuhiko?” She murmurs, a small part of her still wants to call him master, but she pushes it down deep. 

She pulls the hands away from his face and rubs circles in his palms. She waits as he lets out a harsh breath, her heart aching as he does. 

His voice is quiet when he responds, “Peko?”

His one eye meets her own. 

It’s easy to meet his gaze now. After all this time.

They’re both hurting. She knows that in her soul as she laces her fingers in his. 

She was supposed to comfort him.

Her hands were shaking.

A deep groan snapped her from her thoughts.

Einar needed help, but she wasn’t a healer. How could she be? Datura was an illusionist, glamour expert.

She ripped at her Priory skirts, gathering enough to at least stop the bleeding.

“It will be alright, darling. I have you. You’re alright. You’ll be fine.”

Her hands were coated in red.

A bright, nauseating red that made the breath catch in her throat. 

Her hands needed to just stop shaking.

A heavy, large hand rested on her head. A comforting weight to ease her panic.

Based off this lovely sneak peek!

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“Please stay with me,” He said with a bright smile etching its way onto his face. His canines looked sharper in the low light, almost animalistic.

She watched his dark eyes sparkled with green as their eyes met. Those eyes made her feel like they had met before, like something felt right. The monkey in his backpack seemed to wink at her, like a wingman would.

Maybe she should give him another shot.

Maybe she should open her heart to another boy, as much as she didn’t want to.

He wasn’t wearing the douchey cowboy hat anymore, so she could see the green streaks against the coffee-brown hair. She took in the creases in his brow, like he wasn’t sure what to do if she said no.

In theory, they shouldn’t make sense.

On paper, a multitude of opposites, clustered together and a puzzle where the pieces are forced to fit.

She was darkness and stayed where demons dwell. She was blacks, blues, and purples. She was ancient tomes and herbal teas. She was frowns, sighs, and the occasional smirk, a wallflower.

He was brightness and diverse as the natural world. He was greens in every shade. He was video games and comic books. He was smiles, laughs, the center of attention.

In reality, things are always different.

Most people don’t always see the deep understanding and empathy.

Most people don’t always see what's underneath the surface, inner demons pulsing through their veins like wild animals.

Maybe that was why they liked each other so much, the deeper connection that came with tragic pasts and shared experiences.

Because, really, he’d do anything for her, even when she turned him away and kept everything inside. He’d fight for her, turning his inner demons outward.

A @trcspringfling gift for @daleyposts Summary: “This person assumed he was just like his parents, when he was standing with his eco-warrior girlfriend in a Save the Bees tee shirt at an Earth Day rally. Didn’t that mean something to this person?” Prompt:  (TRC) Blusey - At an environmental activist or Earth Day rally/protest. ao3: here!

I hope you like it! If I knew anything about Easter, you would have had a different fic.

“Don’t move,” the Svanir barked as he held a corrupted blade to her neck.

She glared at him with steely eyes and clenched her jaw. They had taken her hammer, which lay in the snow a few feet away.

“Mama?” The small voice called to her, grabbing her full attention.

Her piercing gaze locked with his widened eyes filled with fear. All she wanted to do was hold her baby and hug the fears away.

The Svanir holding him hissed after her, “Don’t move, woman. The boy comes with us.”

Her eyes narrowed, no one was taking her baby boy. Not if she had anything to do about it.

“Don’t worry, cub. Mama’s going to get us out of here.”

The Svanir laughed at her, horrible, guttural laughter. They overpower her, touched her cub with their dirty hands, and they had the audacity to laugh at her? She frowned in anger.

How dare they.

She let the power of the Spirits flow through her, calling upon Bear to lend her strength. She clenched her fists, feeling her nails change into sharp claws.

“Einar?”

“Yes, Mama?”

“Cover your eyes and don’t stop until I tell you, okay?”

“Yes, Mama.”