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angelofchaos001 · 4 months ago

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Stranded in the Rain - Chapter 2

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Chapter 2 - Adapting

The next day, Moissan woke up feeling refreshed and renewed.

It was strange at first, waking up. Everything felt so stiff, like they hadn't moved in forever. When was the last time they'd actually been able to sleep like this? Had it been hours? Minutes? Or even longer - Years? Every sense of time, even their natural internal clock, felt muffled and hopelessly lost. They decided a good stretch was in order, and as they did such, new thoughts crossed their mind.

Firstly, it was a much longer period of time without anything happening than they could even remember getting back in their solar system. On top of that, no loop had happened yet, since they were still the very same person with no 'ghost memories', as Gabbro had called them.

Right. The others.

Their eyes stung from crying so much the previous day. Despite how much Hatchling still dearly missed their friends, they couldn't muster up any more tears. Exhaustion, maybe? Either that, or they were already getting over it. Doubtful, they thought with a sigh. Their surroundings didn't change overnight, either. Still the same damp (slightly drier) moss, the same vines and walls closed in on them.

The only change was that the small tunnel now seemed full of something. A sudden rush of panic overtook Hatchling, realizing that their only exit may have been sealed, and they lunged forwards to examine the metal. "What caused it to seal?" they spoke aloud. Maybe it would be easier than their normal thoughts getting tangled with the sad ones. "I can probably find a way to force these gears to-"

They reached out to touch it, and the entire small room began to tremble as the mechanics turned and groaned. It was loud, not nearly the sound machine one would have expected from looking at it, and it made a low, grinding sound as bits of the metal closing the tunnel were pulled to the sides once more. "Just like how I found it originally," they breathed. "But what purpose does a sealing room have?"

It wasn't like the heart of Ash Twin. That had been sealed for good, with a warp being the only way in or out of it, and this room was far too small for a warp, anyway. What purpose would a sealed room have in a world like this, anyway? Hatchling was fairly certain there wasn't going to be any warp core hi-jinks going on, especially if the machinery was all this decrepit and abandoned.

Maybe I'll find the answer to that question later, they thought, staring through the tunnel. They couldn't see to the other side, but could smell the petrichor and feel a faint tickle of a breeze. While they'd certainly traveled through stranger things, there just wasn't a way for them to fit through the tunnel. Like they observed before, it could barely fit their head - Let alone their body with the spacesuit as well.

Still. It was the only kind of gap or exit to the room, so it had to be explored. Experimentally, they stuck their hand in before reaching through to their whole arm. A weird pressing sensation crept along the limb, like it was being shrunk down to fit something, and Moissan quickly pulled it out again. The feeling subsided. "What was that? Ugh, I'd love to write it down somewhere, but . . . Oh!"

Digging in their bag, they remembered that they'd brought a small notepad in it. They recorded new findings here before they could digitally put them into their ship's log. But I guess that's not an option here, so, notepad it is. Flipping to the next clean page, they quickly wrote: "Strange small tunnels that cause the feeling of being pressed when inside."

While the next idea didn't seem like the most favorable one, they were also already out of better ideas. There was so little to try in this room that one of the few things they could try was to stick their head inside and see what happened. Staring down into the tunnel, it was still too dark to see anything, but the allure of freedom beckoned. Okay, you can do this. I can do this. Just stick my head in and pull it out really fast if anything goes wrong. Easy. Easy . . .

With a deep breath, they forced their head into the tunnel. The pressing feeling quickly returned, but it also felt like . . . they were being dragged into the tunnel? No, that couldn't be right - Could it? Undeniably, the feeling was spreading from their head and neck down to their chest, arms, waist . . . it was like they were being compressed into a hearthian sandwich. It wasn't painful, either, but rather . . . still, an undesirable feeling. They felt a deep curiosity growing of how this worked, how it could pull them through and make them smaller.

After only a few seconds, though, Hatchling fell out of the other end of the tunnel rather suddenly, landing on stony ground. Bits of protruding metal broke the walls and littered the floor beneath them, while vines clutched the decaying scraps tightly with their leafy tendrils. As they got to their feet again, a small insect briefly landed on their nose, causing them to sneeze. This room wasn't very big, either, but it was certainly less claustrophobic for them. A long pole stretched from the floor to the roof in front of them, and another pole stuck out from the ceiling above them. Hatchling thought they could see another tunnel at the tops of both poles, piquing their curiosity.

Behind them, the wall seemed the same. There was the tunnel they'd just left, but above it was a unique mark, almost like a three sided box. Or a normal box with a slit cut out from the bottom line. They quickly sketched the shape into their notes, and left a blank space for determining if it had any kind of meaning to it. "What a strange new place," they breathed, taking a step forwards. Moss crunched under their heavy boots as they walked closer and closer to the long pole.

They reached out for it and grasped their hand around the smooth cylinder. It was sturdy, firmly stuck to the walls, and seemed made out of whatever metal the previous room had in it. Are these deliberately here? Were they an accident? What kind of use do they have normally? Every new direction just held more questions - And yielded no answers. Still, there wasn't much else to try in most situations, and Hatchling felt confident that they could reach the upper tunnels with just a little jetpack fuel.

Donning their helmet (just in case the roof was closer than they thought) and double-checking that everything was in order, they took a steady breath and leapt up, making it about halfway up before adding a gentle boost from their thrusters so that they were right next to the tunnel and could put their hand in it. Okay. Just remember the way back to that small box room. It seemed pretty safe. As they quickly fit the rest of their body into the small opening, they were pushed through and found themselves in a new room.

It was even more open and bigger than the last. They paused to look around, seeing more of the same plants, the same metal shards, and uneven ground sprawled out before them. On the far side of the room was another tunnel, and a pole hung from a point of unknown origin about halfway through. They began moving with a little less caution and concern, stepping forwards until they reached the pole and could see upwards. There was a small beam of land next to it, but beyond that they couldn't tell what there was.

Don't be afraid of the unknown. Just be respectful and cautious of it.

Though, it wouldn't hurt to check the closer tunnel first, anyway. They walked towards it, their breathing finally starting to even out as things seemed . . . somewhat okay. They still missed their friends, and longed for the comfort of familiarity, but it couldn't be helped. All they could do was push forwards and try to figure out what the world wanted from them. Maybe they'd find an open area soon and be able to eat something over a campfire.

The thought of their own dwindling supplies startled Moissan. They hastily reached back and grabbed their bag, digging through it for what little resources they knew they had. Through the piles of extra clothes and the bundles of space equipment, they found what they were looking for. Hatchling pulled their hand out with a sigh of relief, only to discover a single container of marshmallows, a ration tin, and a bottle of sap wine. Well, THAT'S not good. I can probably save this stuff for a little later. How stupid of me to keep most things in my ship . . .

Self-loathing aside, the small supply pool made finding more turn into one of Hatchling's highest priorities. "I've just got to figure out what's safe . . . which is probably nothing," they muttered, kicking aside a small pebble from their path as they walked towards the other tunnel. As they neared the hole, they thought they could hear faint squeaking and flapping noises on the other side. Is something alive there?

The thought of the new life made them equal parts excited and anxious. On one hand, it was new life. Something that wouldn't have ever existed if Hatchling hadn't done what they'd did. It would be amazing to see what kind of future they'd helped create. But on the other, more sensible hand, it could be just as dangerous as the anglerfish were. That had been some of the only creature life Moissan knew about in their system, and they could swallow ship and pilot whole. Without the relative safety of the time loop, death seemed as terrifying as it had that very first launch.

"Don't be afraid," they repeated to themselves. "Don't be afraid of the unknown. It's probably fine." Probably. Carefully, they slid into the tunnel and were casually pushed through it, emerging on the other side where a room much like the previous one revealed itself. Poles stuck out from the ceiling and ground, as well as one large pole in the center of the room that stretched vertically to touch both. However, the chirping and squeaking sounds were also discovered to be dozens of small creatures.

Hatchling looked up, watching the small things flap and fly about, bumping into walls as well as each other. Sometimes, they'd drop to the ground suddenly, and they watched as the creatures burrowed their way underground only to resurface somewhere else in the room. What are they? They thought, admiring the flying fauna. Wow . . . Wouldn't Schist just love this?

Maybe . . . just to hold on to whatever memory of their friends they had . . . Hatchling could at least play into their interests. They sat down in the corner of the room, pulled out their notepad, and began writing down everything about the creatures they saw. "Small flying fauna. Makes chirping sounds frequently. Often bumps into the surrounding area. Found with a dozen others of the same kind. Can burrow into the ground." As they wrote, they muttered every word as it made it's way onto the page.

A small shift of the page made Hatchling look up, where one of the creatures had perched on the notepad with a faint sound. "Woah," they breathed, looking at it. It seemed so round and perfect, an oval body with two large ears poking up from the top of a small head. Wide, open white eyes stared back at them, blinking in wonder. Moissan stared, wordlessly. Would it startle and run away? Was it consciously aware what it was doing? Were these creatures sentient? "Hello?"

It simply stared and spread it's wings. Hatchling titled their head. Was it some kind of body language thing they couldn't understand? With a sigh, they picked up their pencil and quickly tried to sketch the creature before it could move. The chittering in the room became a soft, droning background noise, while the small bug sat perfectly still, posing for the drawing. "Heh. Sorry, little buddy," they said, looking at it. "I don't know what you're trying to say to me."

The sketch was quickly turning into two sketches. Then three. Then a fourth, just of their wings. When they finished that one, Hatchling sat the pencil down and smiled at the creature. "You've been so kind to sit here with me, little creature. What should I even call you?" It blinked and stared, tilting it's head and finally closing it's wings. Hatchling laughed a little. "I mean . . . I guess you can't understand me, either. Funny how things happen, isn't it?"

Blink.

"You're sort of small, like a bug of something. And you've got those pretty neat wings, don't you? And with so many of you gathered here, maybe you're some kind of social species?"

Chirp!

"I mean . . . from far away, stars look small. And they're plentiful. Just like you. What do you think of that? Hm?"

Hatchling reached their hand out for the creature, but at the motion, it gave an alarmed call and flew away, diving down and disappearing into the ground. Disappointment took Moissan for a moment, but in the end, it was right. They were both foreign bodies to each other, unaware if there was danger carried by them. Hatchling was so much bigger compared to it; They could probably crush it in their hand if they tried hard enough. But I don't want to hurt them, they thought. Well. At least it sat down long enough for me to draw it. Looking in their notepad, they wrote down the name they thought of and slashed a line under it.

Starbug .

After that one fled, it seemed all of the other starbugs in the room disappeared with them. Hatchling wondered where they all went, but they didn't have a need to be tracking down such small creatures at this time. No, I've got to figure out something to eat when my marshmallows inevitably run out. They walked towards the pole in the room, hanging slightly off the ground, and reached for it, pulling themselves up.

Surprisingly, they were able to climb up it, bit by bit. It wasn't a long climb, either, before they had reached yet another tunnel at the top. Got nowhere else to go . . . they thought, pushing off into that one and ending up in another similar-looking room. "How many of these rooms look the same?" They mused. A tunnel awaited them on the far side of the room, but Hatchling wanted to see light. And sky. And going up, well, they couldn't see part of it, but there was bound to be another tunnel. There was another ceiling one, a little further in their reach, though. A small jump and a pole climb later, and they crawled into the cramped space yet again.

There was still no surface where they popped up in. To both sides of them were more tunnels, the area they were in expanding and winding around itself like a confusing maze. One that I have no map for, either. But looking up, dangling above their head tauntingly, were several small blue plants. They were round, and about the size of Hatchling's thumb, if they had to estimate.

Well . . . they were hungry, after all . . .

But even they knew better than to eat strange plants they'd just found. If nothing else, a proper study of them was in order first to make sure they weren't toxic. Only then would they even consider taking the smallest bite. Reaching over, they could barely grasp one of them, easily plucking it off of the stem it was attached to. "If they are safe to eat . . . maybe I should take more than one for the road." Besides, even if they weren't safe, a toxic plant could have some use in a new world. Even if it was just to pull a prank on someone. The other small plants would take some effort, though.

With a leap of faith and even more jetpack boosting, they were able to grab another. And another. And then two of them at once. All of them in the room were now safely stored away in Moissan's bag, tucked away while they pulled one of them out to study. It was, indeed, the estimated size, and was mostly a deep shade of blue. When they held it up in front of their flashlight, they could see through it just a bit, where something small and dark squirmed in the center. Is this also some kind of fauna? But . . . why is it like a plant? Defense mechanism? Everyone else would be so much better than me at this.

They couldn't let themselves be dragged down into their sad thoughts. They couldn't let it happen. Instead, they got to their feet, looked dead ahead, and bravely strode towards the right tunnel, going into it and smoothly coming out the other side. Finally, after what felt like days of being trapped underground, they saw the surface.

Wet, dripping, and absolutely alive with noise. Vines and lichen wove around the poles, dripping water by simply existing. Around them, everything seemed to stick out like branches of a tree, trying to snag on the suit and catch Hatchling off guard. But far above, looking past all the things right in front of them, the sky was covered in a layer of endless gray clouds. There wasn't a bright sun to ring in the new day. No stars to smile warmly from afar (or explode). Just gray nothingness, thick, meaningless and impossible to see through.

Dismayed, Hatchling started climbing poles and hovering, trying to get as high as they could. When they'd reached the top of the last pole, they jumped and safely glided down on top of a small protrusion from the wall. Despite how wet it was here, they still felt confident they could get a decent fire going. Setting their bag down and sinking against the wall, they let out a sigh.

Whatever was happening, at least they were doing okay.

They just hoped their friends were either alive and doing the same as they were - Or happily dead in whatever fate they were consigned to. (At the very least, they hoped Solanum and the Prisoner could rest in peace, considering what they'd gone through)

Pulling out and striking a match, they studied the flame for a moment. It was so bright, a beacon of warmth and hope in this damp, cold environment. Luckily, they always carried a bit of kindling on them, just in case something like this happened and they couldn't find dry wood. After clearing a small space of the plants there, Hatchling put down the wood and carefully laid the match beside it. Slowly, like a cautious step, the flames spread to the wood before engulfing it in a satisfying blaze.

Just the sight of the fire made them more relaxed as they took their marshmallows and speared one on a stick. Such comfort, like it was their pre-launch camp with Slate . . . it almost brought them to tears again. Still, they needed to know as quick as possible whether or not the blue plants were edible, and as the marshmallow roasted away, they took a closer look at it, studying every inch of the oblong sphere in the light. It didn't seem to move anymore, and Moissan wondered if they'd killed the poor creature inside by plucking it. "Geez, now I feel kinda bad about that," they whispered, hunching their shoulders a little.

If it was already dead, though, that at least meant it couldn't get any more dead. Which meant that Hatchling didn't have too much of an issue with skewering it alongside the marshmallow and waiting for both to cook while they looked at another and wrote down what they noticed. "Very blue indeed . . . may contain a living creature. Grows from dangling vines. Easy to pluck."

Their stomach growled at them to eat something, and they looked at the orb in their hand. What would it do if they ate it? Was it refreshing? Dangerous? Toxic? If the worst case scenario happened and they did die from eating it, what would happen? The thought of this being their last memory was enough to overpower the gnawing hunger inside of them. Marshmallows would simply have to do.

Speaking of which, the one they were roasting was done by now. Possibly a bit overdone, if they were being perfectly honest. And as they removed it from the stick, the blue orb beside it seemed somewhat done as well. Even with the smell of sweet marshmallow right there, the plant seemed to be beckoning to Hatchling with a wonderful smell and a slightly different texture that implied it was well and juicy inside. Should I really eat it?

. . . Maybe just a bite.

And they did exactly that. After eating the marshmallow and taking as long as they could to chew it (just to postpone their curiosity of trying to other object), Hatchling took the plant, opened their mouth, and nibbled at it.

. . .

Considering they didn't feel violently sick after eating it, that was probably a good sign for it's safety. It didn't even taste bad, being rather sweet with a hint of tang and oh-so-juicy inside. So Moissan took another bite of it, and after seeing no ill results from that one either, decided to bite the bullet and eat the rest of it. For being a foreign plant with no indication as to what it was, it certainly tasted good and filled them right up. It was like their energy returned to them, tiredness being washed away in the blink of an eye. With a brief pause to stretch, Hatchling continued writing in their notes.

"Seems safe to eat. Tastes wonderful! Sweet, tangy, and juicy. It's similar to a fruit." A fruit that's blue . . . Hatchling sighed. Now probably wasn't the best time for naming things, but if they couldn't think of anything better than 'Bluefruit' tomorrow, it would stay. Even if they met another sentient creature they could communicate with (imagine the odds of that!) and all their names turned out to be wrong, it was better than not being able to refer to them at all. Just another neat trick Schist taught me.

As they wrote, they heard a rumble off in the distance and looked around. The clouds seemed to have gotten a little darker, gathering closer and thicker every moment. Is it about to rain? With a chuckle, they said, "Guess that means I don't need to douse the fire myself." Still, the right thing to do when they were done would be to stamp it out. Just after one more marshmallow, they decided.

Gently turning it so that it didn't burn on one side, Hatchling returned to their notes. They kept sketching out the bluefruits, trying to remember what they'd look like attached (they should've either left one there or taken a drawing of it first. Stupid.) to their stems, getting a little lost in their thoughts until they heard a small fwoosh and looked up to see their beloved marshmallow now on fire and rapidly blackening.

"AHHhhh! No!" They grabbed the stick and blew on the flaming sugary mess, but it was too late to save the poor thing. "Aw, man. Gabbro would have liked this." Hatchling smirked and shook their head. They still didn't understand why Gabbro liked their marshmallows burnt to a crisp. It didn't make sense, that's what it was, but every time they'd roasted together, it wasn't long before Gabbro had a stick on fire from burning them up.

The first thought about my friends without tearing up. Though, maybe that's because I really don't agree with them on that one. (Seriously. Why.)

Hatchling settled against the wall, not wanting to get up but knowing it was almost time to do so. But as they opened their notepad, a drop of rain landed on it. Dang. Guess I should get out of the rain, huh? They smiled, then sighed and stood up, stretching their back, before the lost their balance as the ground started violently shuddering. "W-Woah!"

They fell down hard, taking a moment to register what happened before noticing that the single lone drops had quickly become a drizzle. Rain didn't usually come this fast. And it also doesn't usually make the ground shake like . . . well, like this! They tried to stand up, and fell back down again. Yet they still tried again, and by leaning on the wall, managed to stay upright. Hastily, they slung their wet bag on their back and tried to keep some balance.

The drizzle turned into a downpour within just a few mere minutes.

It was coming down in sheets, splashing around them, coming down so forcefully they could feel it through the suit. The rain plinking on their newly-donned helmet sounded like a hundred popping sounds at once, every second. They tried to come down from their perch slowly, but as they grabbed onto the pole the rain only got harder, making them lose their grip and be flung to the ground by the torrent.

Everything ached just from the fall alone, but the rain seemed to be pressing down into them, forcing Moissan further and further into the ground. Mud squelched as it shifted to make way for the hearthian being buried under buckets of water. Every motion was a struggle, every breath they took seemingly getting harder and harder. The protective spacesuit didn't seem to be doing much other than weighing them down as Hatchling fought to an upright position, sitting and bracing their arms behind them to stay that way.

This wasn't normal. Never before, on any planet, had it rained like this. If it kept up, Hatchling worried that they might not hold out until it was over. They needed to find somewhere out of the rain. Well, I came from underground. I've just got to get back there!

Moving was almost impossible. They tried to stand up, only for the rain to shove them back down again, their helmet hitting the mud and throwing their face against the glass with a cracking sound. Hatchling started to panic as they saw water seeping in already, fighting to get their head off the ground and crawl their way forwards if they had to.

One shuffle at a time, as mud dragged them down and fought to keep them in the rain. The tunnel they needed was right there, so close to them, and yet so far away at the same time. With a final burst of strength as the rain forced itself down even harder, they threw themselves into the pipe and were carried away by it to the safety of the underground.

Or so Moissan thought.

Above them, they could see the buckets of water forcing their way through whatever cracks in the ceiling there were, the rain unyielding and coming down almost as hard as outside. But just barely lighter. Shelter . . . I need to get to that . . . the sealed room! Every thought became nothing but survival as water sloshed around them, weighing them down like chains. Somehow, they managed to crawl towards the pipe that had brought them into the room with the bluefruit, and the second they emerged from it, they were thrown to the ground again, even rougher this time.

Hatchling swore they heard a CRACK this time, along with a bright flaring pain in their hand. They turned to look, but couldn't see anything through the glove - Or past the water rushing around them. I'm still not even close! I just need to keep going down. Keep getting further from the outside. I need to keep trying.

It became even harder to move now, as every touch to their hand felt like fire was burning them. The tunnel to take them even deeper wasn't far, but it wasn't going to be easy. The rain was making it impossible to lift their arm, or even keep their head up. If they kept crawling, they wondered if the force of the rain would break their spine.

Hatchling made the choice to drop to their stomach, crawling along the floor even slower, but that much safer. It was agony, clawing themselves through the mush of mud, plants, and water, but they were undeniably moving. The tunnel mouth yawned in front of them, and they dove towards it, trying their best not to slip out.

Once again, leaving this pipe almost immediately forced them towards the floor, rushing up to them and slamming them with breakneck force. Everything was starting to hurt, their mind jarred and head pounding from all the hits and noise. Just . . . keep . . . going . . . down . . .

An even stronger force of rain came by, seeping it's way this far underground. Hatchling morbidly wondered what the surface must be like, if the rain was this bad down here. According to their mental map, though, the shelter was one room away. Just one more pipe between them and (hopefully) actual safety. The strong gust of rain knocked them clean to the ground, though, completely unable to move. Moissan had to sit there as they were being pressed into the ground, water filling into the helmet and trickling into their mouth and eyes.

They also thought they could taste the tang of blood in their mouth, but their body was becoming numb to the sensation of pain.

The harder rain lessened just enough for Hatchling to crawl their way towards the pipe, and they practically threw themselves at it. They were growing exhausted. It was getting harder and harder to do such a basic thing as breathe. The rain felt like it was coming down so hard it pressed every organ in their body flat.

But there it was. The sign they'd seen that indicated the sealing room. Hatchling gasped, grabbing the pole in the room as best as they could and looking up.

Now or never.

With relative speed, they shot for the pipe. Every moment felt like an eternity to them, and they slipped and fell into the mud again halfway there. But Hatchling couldn't give up. Not when they were so close. Every step brought them closer, but if this wasn't safe . . . they didn't know what they'd do. Don't think about it. Just make it to that room.

They felt their hand slip into the hole, being pressed so gently compared to the torrential downpour they were facing before. Soon, with relief giving them a newfound strength, Moissan forced their way into the room and was instantly amazed at the feeling of no pressure. It was safe in here. The sounds of the rain outside grew harder and harder, fiercely howling as if it wanted to pull Hatchling back out into it, but they took a moment to breathe.

Try and meditate. Try and be calm. Just breathe.

In. Out.

Despite their pain coming back, slowly but surely, Hatchling found their heartbeat calming. They closed their eyes, listening to the rain outside, before hearing the somewhat-familiar sound of the gears and metal grinding. The pipe was closing. That's why it seals, they thought. To keep that kind of rain out.

Everything hurt, but they didn't care yet. They had some medical supplies in their bag for that. Tomorrow. (Even though they thought their hand and a few ribs might be broken)

With one more deep breath, Hatchling wound themselves into a slumber, calming themselves of the eventful day before and bracing for whatever the next might bring.

-----

@mellow-mooon

@0silverbluedragon1

@corn-worshipper

@doodlebug091

@isnt-that-grape

@fishbone5

@dragonpurplecristal

@obsidianmage3

#outer wilds #outer wilds spoilers #rain world #rw #rain world spoilers #rw spoilers #outer wilds au #rain world au #fanfiction #fanfic #crossover au #outer wilds hatchling #rain world survivor

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eievuimultimuse · 1 year ago

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@eyeknowmayhem | CONTINUED.

NIGHT ALWAYS HAD been when Fintacea was most active. It was simply easier — gave her plenty of shelter, plenty of shadow to hide in. Generally less activity out on the water, save for the occasional group that enjoyed a midnight boat ride. Overall, she felt so much freer to do as she pleased during the night, able to swim near the surface without fear of getting caught by humans. ( Maybe one day she’ll move past that fear, but that’s certainly not happening tonight. Not anytime soon either, most likely. ) While the city might be known as ‘the city that never sleeps,’ she found the sea to be significantly QUIETER. It meant that she got to enjoy a little bit of peace, outside of the usual bustle of the daylight hours.

It also meant that any noise that was there could travel very easily and very far. And oh, the SINGING that she heard definitely carried.

She gravitated in its direction at once. Normally, she would be a little more tentative about this sort of thing, but she knew it’d be fine. She knows who’s singing, and they’re on good terms ( and, besides, they’re both mutants; that was most of the reason she started speaking with him in the first place ), so it’s all good. The stealth with which she swims is so second nature to her, she never thinks to maybe alert others of her presence rather than sneaking up on them as she does with Ray. She doesn’t even acknowledge the yelp that escapes him when she suddenly pops up out of nowhere ( makes ya’ wonder if she may just be oblivious to the fact that she has that effect on others… ). She just takes one look at him, and seeing that he looks ( and also SOUNDS ) incredibly stressed, suggests that he should relax.

“ I think you kinda do, though, when you say that. Know what I’m talking about, I mean, “ she responds to his denial. Not in a way that’s sarcastic or anything like that; actually, she’s quite earnest. Mostly just— voicing her observations.

She moves closer to the dock, extending her claws to grip onto the edge before pulling herself up just enough to fold her arms on it. Her legs dangle lazily behind her, her ‘flippers’ barely poking out of the water. ( Funny how she always opts to stick to the water, in spite of the fact that she’s now perfectly capable of sitting or standing on the dock if she wanted to. )

“ Oh, don’t worry about it, I literally just showed up. I was actually hanging out way over there— “ She gestures towards the direction, though it might not mean a whole lot considering she’s gesturing to open water. But still, one could kinda get the sense that she was not all that close originally. “ But you sounded like you were having a pretty serious jam session, so I figured I’d pop in. “ That’s a nice way of putting it; frankly, it sounds like the guy’s trying to BLOW UP HIS LUNGS with the level of INTENSITY he’s singing at. But ! She digresses.

“ Seriously though, you sound like you’re going through it. Are you going through it ? “

#eyeknowmayhem #FINTACEA. / IC.#( sea creature besties moments lets GOOOO #kgjhfkg she rlly said the whole neighbourhood can hear you (nonjudgemental) /SILLY )

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notaloneclangen · 2 years ago

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☽ MOON 0 ☽

An uneventful moon for BegoniaClan is not always a bad thing; it can often be a curse to live in interesting times. The lengthening days of Newleaf are welcomed as cats go about their camp duties and enjoy the extra sun. The rest of the world may have slept through leaf-bare, but a Clan can never afford to, so the first hints of snowmelt are celebrated.

Fallenheart is among the most eager to greet the changing season. Foraging for herbs in the snow is never an easy task, and as soon as new buds start to peek their heads above the frost, she's on the lookout. She knows the insects are certainly starting to buzz around again; the healing bee sting on her paw could say as much. However, her searches this time have revealed that any herbs need a little more time to sprout before she can harvest them. So, she rounds up Foxtuft and Midnightpelt to escort her to a shrubby area closer to the river. Cobwebs can usually be found between the branches of the bushes. She could use some, knowing that her Clanmates will be roaming more of the territory in the warming weather and giving themselves more opportunities to get scraped up.

When they arrive at the riverbank, Fallenheart scans the pebbles for any sticks. The river feeds through the forest upstream, and it's much easier to find them this way than cross the river and go searching closer to the woods. Sure enough, she finds enough for the three of them. She passes the two toms their sticks, instructing them to catch any cobwebs on the very tip to make them easier to transport back to camp. When they've collected enough for her to be satisfied, she mrrps with laughter. Midnightpelt's stick is so laden with cobwebs that he can hardly see where he's going. He trills back at her sheepishly before tripping over a clump of grass.

As they make their way back to camp along the river, Midnightpelt bounds ahead of the group. Young Cougarkit is seated at the river's edge, staring into the flowing water. The older tom gently nudges the kitten back from the edge with the webby end of the stick. "Careful, now," he meows. "The edges of the bank can crumble away easily. We wouldn't want to lose our youngest Clanmate like that!"

Cougarkit just stares uninterrupted at the mesmerizing patterns of the water. "Has anyone ever been in the river?" she asks. When Midnightpelt pauses to think, she goes ahead anyway. "I wonder if I could get across without the rock bridge. It doesn't look that scary."

At that moment, Fallenheart and Foxtuft catch up, overhearing the last part of the conversation. Fallenheart stares across the river for a second, into the growing darkness of the woods. The silence isn't as comforting as it should be. She side-eyes Midnightpelt; an understanding passes between them. Sycamorestripe. "You don't need to get across there," Fallenheart says, turning the kitten away from the river with a sweep of her tail. "We have everything we need on this side of the water."

As Cougarkit is bundled away towards the BegoniaClan hollow with the returning healer's patrol, though, she can't resist another glance back towards the river.

∘◦⥁・┈┈・❦・┈┈・⥀◦∘

Hootstar rounds the rock that obfuscates the dirtplace, kicking off a bit of loose soil that clings to her back paw. Newtsmoke is waiting for her, her pelt glowing in the dusky light. The younger molly is sharpening her claws on an old log embedded in the ground. Her eyes sparkle and her tail lashes as she meets Hootstar's eyes.

"I'm ready to go now," Hootstar puffs out. At once Newtsmoke leaps down from the log, leading the way out of camp. The two cats travel in silence as the evening grows colder, and mist begins to settle into the dips in the terrain.

The first stars are winking into view as the two cats reach their destination. The low-lying mist wreathes between the countless stones in the dip in the earth, scattered in no particular pattern on the ground and bearing strange claw marks. Hootstar gives Newtsmoke a silent nod, and the apprentice secret keeper leaps out of the hollow. Hootstar settles onto the damp earth as she waits for her to return, curling her tail over her paws.

Before too long, Hootstar hears soft pawsteps approaching, and Newtsmoke appears again, rolling a small, round stone down into the hollow with her nose. "Good work," Hootstar rasps, and Newtsmoke seems to glow with the praise.

"Do I get to mark it, too?" Newtsmoke asks, kneading the ground.

"Sure, why not," Hootstar says with a yawn. "This might be your duty to take over one day. You could use the practice. Just be deliberate with your marks."

Newtsmoke sniffs around for a moment, finding just the right spot for the new stone. Upon finding it, she raises her tail happily and goes to nudge the rock into place. She gets to work immediately with marking it. Hootstar watches quietly as she works; a claw scratch here, a scrape from a smaller rock there. The younger molly is going a bit fast for Hootstar's taste, but she holds back her criticism and waits to see the final product before judging too harshly. Newtsmoke dashes away a couple times and comes back with new materials before continuing.

After giving her project a once-over, Newtsmoke sheathes her claws and steps back from the rock. Hootstar scoots closer for a better look. The rock now bears the crude but recognizable face of a cat in the upper middle. The portrait is small, so the details are sparse, but a smattering of scratches on the left of the cat's face represent a tabby splotch over her left eye. To the left of her face is a tree, and to the right, a long, vertical line surrounded on either side by two smaller ones. Underneath all of that, on the lower half of the rock, a brief trail of pawprint symbols leads into a cluster of trees. The space after the trees is left deliberately empty.

"You did a good job," Hootstar purrs. She had worried that Newtsmoke's speed would make the markings turn out sloppy, but the looser scratches lend a different energy to the picture. "I think Sycamorestripe would've liked it." She pauses. "She might still, if she visits."

Newtsmoke simply holds herself higher in response to the praise, purring and blinking slowly. Hootstar heaves a sigh, her breath making a cloud in the coldening air as she lets her gaze wander to the stones beyond this one. The hollow seems to be filling up more and more with the passing moons. If an unfamiliar band of cats were to happen upon this place, she would forgive them if they mistook it for the rubble of a twoleg nest left after a violent storm. Stones lie in place that memorialize cats that Hootstar couldn't have been alive to meet; some are so old that their method of marking has since fallen out of use, and she cannot understand them, try as she might.

Hootstar looks at the growing crowd of stars in the early Newleaf night. Though it is now the warm season, it is only in its newborn stages; the night can still chill cats to the bone if they're not careful. "Let's head back now," Hootstar meows. Newtsmoke stands to leave with a nod. As the two cats turn to head back to camp, Hootstar can only hope that they won't have to mark another stone any time soon.

Chapter Select | Next Moon

#begoniaclan's blight #moon 0 #first newleaf

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ripgray-moved · 5 months ago

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peter doesn't expect daryl to touch him. it shows in the fast little blink the motion earns, eyes flickering briefly to the fingers that hold him still before they flit back up to his face. wide and innocent.

in truth, he isn't truly sure what it means to be strong yet. daryl says he is with such sincerity that peter doesn't feel comfortable disagreeing with him, and yet it doesn't yet feel wholly satisfying to receive the compliment right now. there're still strides for him to make, even if he doesn't yet know which they are.

though it does feel nice to know that daryl thinks he's worth his salt.

❛ thanks, ❜ peter utters very belatedly, a flush fuelling his cheeks red. thank god for the night. ❛ y-yeah, let's go...! ❜

it's far from convenient to travel at night, but it isn't as if they have much choice with such an insane group of people on their tail. careful but swift, the duo weave through trees and kick up as few leaves as possible. at one point, peter catches his boot in an upturned root, and both am and daryl catch an arm each. peter gets a bad case of the giggles for the next five minutes.

as they breach the treeline and find themselves beside the river once more, it becomes a lot easier to see. the moonlight guides their way as if they travel a destined path, the pale yellow light reflecting off of the river's muddy surface.

no rick, but lots and lots of serenity and a crystal clear view of the neighbouring woods.

❛ y'know, i've been thinking. ❜ a couple of hours have passed since the fight, and it doesn't appear as if any more of them are coming tonight ( or if they are, they're well and truly lost ). ❛ about that whole thing, i mean. when we fought them earlier, i felt something i haven't before. it felt like... i dunno how to explain it? like am and i, we were perfectly— in sync? connected? i've never felt that... synergy before. like we were two parts of a whole. ❜ he looks to daryl with an almost sheepish look, though there's undeniable excitement there too. ❛ this is gonna sound crazy but, it was like i could... like we could— talk? without talking. like, in the mind? it doesn't make much sense and i know i'm explaining this terribly but... i'm excited. i've read about this. all the accounts say that those who strike deep bonds with their sceptres and earn their respect become infused with magic themselves. they don't need their sceptres to perform spells, they can just use their hands. like the higher-ups in the cult do. obviously i'm nowhere near that yet but— i don't know, tonight was the first time where i really thought i could be one day? in a serious context, i mean. ❜

though he'll most likely always carry am ( he's grown fond of him at this point in spite of his sharp attitude ), it'd certainly be handy for him to not have to lean on him quite so heavily. that way if they're separated during fights, it isn't going to hinder him nearly as much. he might not die.

❛ oh hey. ❜ peter pauses, a hand sticking out to rest on daryl's arm. his free one points out what can only be described as a leafy cove a short distance away. there lies a small cluster of trees that have grown very close together, and though the fall claims their leaves gradually, their branches overlap so heavily that ample covering remains. ❛ maybe we should set up here for the night? try and get at least a little shut-eye? ❜

it's early morning already, approaching two, but the good thing about fall is that first light is inevitably later too. they have time to squeeze in a little rest if they're tactical about it.

he's perfectly content to allow peter a few minutes to rest. as his partner moves to clean up his staff, wiping it off with a dead cultist's clothing, daryl makes it his mission to closely observe their surroundings. sharp eyes cut through the darkness of the night, gaze flickering between the trees; they may have successfully taken out a group of their pursuers, but with as much as the cult has been changing things up lately, he's well aware that there could be more on the way. maybe their newest tactic will be to try and overwhelm the two of them in waves— they can never be too sure of their safety out here anymore.

it's the way that peter reacts to his words of affirmation that pulls daryl's attention back to him rather than the dark woods around them. he's glad for how his companion seems to perk up with the praise— even if he does give his scepter all of the credit when he's certainly due a great deal of his own. daryl can't help his small but honest smile, either way.

it pleases him to no end that his companion feels more confident in his abilities and in the position of slight power they've worked up to. though it's been so long, daryl still recalls vividly that day at the library and how close he came to being completely devoured by the dead. how peter had given in to his instinct to run away before returning to save him, and how it all resulted in a blowout fight between them. the way his partner confronts these challenges is nothing like that anymore; he's calm, he's fast and capable, and he's proven that he can stand at daryl's side through any fight.

it doesn't bother him, really, that peter has not done any of the killing before now. what his partner lacks in blood, he makes up for in fiercely loyal support— they're like a well-oiled machine on the battlefield, and there's no reason for daryl to try and mess with a good thing if what they have is working. it seems, however, that peter has unlocked something inside of himself.

because he's right: they are just people. they can be hurt, and they can be killed. eradicated once and for all. peter's suffering can end without his life ending, too.

but before he can congratulate pete on his progress and roll into a further conversation regarding their combat, his companion offers his own kind words. they still daryl's mouth, his voice dying before it ever reaches his throat. this is a sudden sweetness, a show of gratefulness that he's not sure what to do with.

when it comes to the people he holds dear, daryl's loyalty and protection is a given. it never needs to be addressed, and he never needs to be thanked for it. when he thinks for a long moment and isn't able to come up with anything that would even come close to touching such a tender sentiment, he simply holds the compliment in his heart instead.

i'm lucky to have you, too.

daryl doesn't move as he approaches. doesn't flinch like he might have months ago as peter's fabric-covered hand rises to his cheek. he only looks at him with a new softness, studying those round, focused eyes. ‘ ... thanks, ’ he mutters while his partner's thumb rubs at the deep red stains on his stubbly skin. before his hand can go far, before he can step away, daryl reaches up and wraps thick but gentle fingers around his wrist.

‘ you're already like that. just 'cause we ain't the same don't mean you ain't strong... i know i can always count on you out here. ’

it's now that he lets go. there's a genuine tone to his voice and an honest glint in his eyes. although he knows peter tends to shrug off such things, he hopes this one sticks. it's lucky for him that daryl is not one to let these moments linger for too long for fear of being swallowed by the awkwardness that threatens to flood in because of them.

‘ — you, uh... ready t'get outta here? ’

#♔ ⋮ 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. ( aintashes. )#♔ ⋮ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠. ( apocalypse. )#♔ ⋮ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞. ( in character. )#aintashes #i miss and love them sfm <333 #u don't get the queue treatment bb

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piastrinorris · 2 years ago

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An Unambiguous Love [2/10]: Meeting Munson

1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 ::

alternate AO3 link

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson x f!Reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Your favourite customers really make it easier returning to the town you never went to school in. If only your friends at work would stop trying to play matchmaker between you.

Chapter 2 word count: 2288

A/N: Thanks for the love on chapter 1! This chapter also introduces my favourite non-shippable character to write, see if you can guess who that is lmao. I'll be updating these daily, thank y'all for sticking with it! <3

It’s the morning after your first shift on the shop floor, and you’re getting yourself ready for your next one this afternoon. You’re really being thrown in at the deep end with a triple threat: new issue day, D&D supply launch day, and your first ever closing shift out on the floor. Thankfully, as long as your schedule still aligns, you’re paired with Ralph, who certainly wouldn’t abandon you no matter how quiet the day may be. You consider getting to the strip mall a little early so that you can perhaps get some extra encouragement from your new friend(? Can you call him that already?) Steve, but you realise that perhaps food is more important. Besides, when you do finally park up, you don’t see him directly in the window anyway. Perhaps he isn’t even working.

You head on in and see an already-exhausted Ralph tidying the comic crates. As you cause the doorbell to chime, Ralph looks at you with a resigned smile. You grit your teeth. “It’s been that bad, huh?”

Ralph shakes his head. “Ahh, it’s helped the time go quicker. Thankfully, we’ve got a little calm period now before the next storm… The after-school rush. Now, I’ll take the register for that, if you could just try and keep on top of keeping things as organised as possible.” You nod and take a deep breath in. Ralph notices and calls, “Hey.” You look up at him and he smiles reassuringly at you. “We’re gonna do great today, alright?” You nod again, more relaxed than your first. Ralph continues, “And I promise I won’t get a random migraine as soon as it’s convenient for me.”

Your eyes widen. “How did - Did Jesse get in trouble? I swear, I didn’t want that to happen, I didn’t mean to squeal -”

Ralph laughs, “Relax, kid.” Bold words from someone only three years older than you. “It didn’t come from the top. Not that Cam would risk having to punish his friend. Word travels fast amongst us here, just a heads up…” He walks over to you to bend down to your ear level and murmur, “Future Mrs Harrington.”

“Okay,” you step aside and hold up a finger while Ralph laughs. “That one, I am nipping in the bud. If a man being nice to someone one time means they’re bound romantically, then I feel sorry for all the women of Hawkins.” Ralph’s laughter intensifies.

The next couple of hours are an absolute flurry of teenage chaos. Comics are being thrown around, as are tantrums over the lack of issue 200. One kid, with curls falling out of his baseball cap, is instead parading around the brand new D&D section proudly, while loudly reassuring his friends that they can read his copy when he is done with it. A red-haired girl asks through stone-cold eyes how he could have possibly gotten a copy early, to which he simply shrugs and says, “I got connections. What can I say? I’ve been telling you all, I basically run this joint.”

The group surrounding him scoffs in disbelief. Remembering the names Steve used yesterday, and putting two and two together, you decide to have a little fun amongst the madness. You tap him on the shoulder, “Sorry, Dustin Henderson?”

He whips around and looks at you like a deer in headlights, swallowing hard. “Y-yes?”

“I take it that our exclusive deal for our most prestiged customer yesterday was to your liking?” you ask, raising your eyebrows slowly, silently willing him to play along.

He shows silent understanding by copying your expression. “Yes! Very much so. You’ll continue to have my patronage for a long time yet. Especially with this new section! I can’t wait to make new characters to use these dice on.” He takes handfuls of them and holds them up gleefully.

You interlock your fingers and place your hands on your heart. “Everyone here is thrilled to hear that you’re satisfied, Mr Henderson. Please, do not be afraid to call on me for any of your needs. I promise, I will deliver to you myself if that is what's needed.” You look around at all the flabbergasted faces of Dustin’s group, then once more at him to catch him mouthing a ‘thank you’ before he turns to face his friends again.

As you walk away, you hear him gloat, “You see? I am the nerd king! Bow down, bitches!” You take extra care in making sure the rest of the kids don’t see you accidentally laughing at the crack in his voice at that last part.

Eventually, things die down a little again, around the time most of the kids are going back home to their parents for dinner. Ralph looks almost completely wiped out, and you frown, “When was the last time you ate?”

Ralph shakes his head. “It’s fine, I told you I’d stay, I’m a man of my wor-”

You interrupt him, “You can’t teach me if you’re passed out. Just go grab a burger and some fries from the diner, as long as you’re back to teach me how to close up, I’ll be fine for a while yet.”

Ralph thanks you profusely as he leaves to go eat. Having to switch between tidying and ringing up really isn’t as bad as you were anticipating. A few angry people demanding certain issues that have already sold out don’t even phase you too much.

As if by fate, you have a split second where it is just you and the stock out on the shop floor. You bask in the silence, the sheer amount of space without so many people crammed in every aisle… And then, in he walks. Grungy style, long dark hair, rings adorning every finger. He makes a beeline for the D&D section, immediately picking up a Player’s Handbook and skimming the pages delightedly. You watch him gleefully explore the store before eventually emptying his arms onto your checkout counter. His vibe is somehow nothing you’d expect from someone with his aesthetic, but also it all seems to… Fit him, somehow. He’s got the book, several dice sets, and a tray. “Just a few things, then,” you muse.

He chuckles, “Yeah, well. My old tray has not been holding well over my last campaign. The Hellfire club sure know how to cause total destructive mayhem even in this realm.”

“Ooh, Hellfire. Sounds official. You guys play for like, any special reason, or…?” You ask, but he shakes his head.

“Nope, I’ve just had waaaaay too much time to run my little old high school campaign. Being held back a couple years sure has its perks!” He takes a long, lingering look at you, and the tip of his tongue pokes out to lick his lips. “Sorry, uh, should probably introduce myself since you’ll probably be seeing me a lot around here now. I'm -”

You cock your head in curiosity, narrowing your eyes and smirking smugly as you figure out who he must be. “Eddie Munson?”

Eddie’s face falls. “Uh-oh. You don't know of Hellfire but you know of me? That can’t be good.”

Your eyes widen, “Oh, no, no, no! I promise it’s nothing bad, I - You helped Steve Harrington create a D&D character here the other day, right?”

The corners of Eddie’s lips twist into a smile, “I don’t think you could quite say that. I certainly tried to, but with little success.”

“Oh, well, yeah, but I - I found the sheet and I got bored so I…” You pull out your sketchbook you’d left tucked in the drawer beneath the counter and show Eddie your drawing.

He takes the book from your hands and starts running around the store, basically pressing his face into it. “Oh my god! This is incredible! And you did that based on what Stevie gave you? Oh, wait until we talk about my current party - Would you do commissions? Could you draw my current party’s characters and then also every one of my NPCs? I need your art to bring this campaign to life, now!”

Your cheeks flush a dark pink. “Oh, well… I’ve never been paid for my work before, and even then, this was just a bit of fun… I even had to get him to pose to get the hair just right since he wanted that in the drawing, too.”

Eddie stops his pacing and returns to you at the counter. He slides the sketchbook back over to you, rests his elbows on the counter and his chin on his fists as he looks to you. “And how much would it cost to have you draw me, then, huh?”

You finally get to talk to him undistracted long enough to get a proper look at his face. His eyes are dark brown, almost black, but not in a cold and uninviting way. His smile is infectious, crinkling the corners of his eyes as he does so. You eventually snap out of your daydream, clear your throat and say, “It wouldn’t be fair to charge you and not Steve… But then technically I didn’t draw Steve himself, just basically him as a half-orc, based on a few things he wrote.”

Stil resting his head on his fists, Eddie gently rocks his head from side to side, “So what’s my D&D alternative?”

“Hmm… You take your pencil out and tap it on your lower lip in thought. “I wanna say… Half-elf fighter who eventually becomes a bard. You got that sort of energy.”

Eddie grins. “Are you sure you haven’t done your research on me? You can’t have just guessed that I’m a musician.”

You gesture up and down in front of you, “I mean, look at you, dude.”

“Touche,” Eddie nods, moving to hold onto the counter with both hands and lean on it. “Yeah, I’ve got a band. Corroded Coffin. We’ve rocked the hell out of venues such as Gareth’s garage…” His tone suggests he’s about to list a number of venues, as does the way he taps one finger with the other, but he trails off after the first while pulling a face to show there’s no more. You laugh, and that goddamn smile of his returns. “Nah, we also have a regular spot, I shouldn’t complain. Suppose I should probably pay for all this, huh…” Eddie squints to read your nametag out loud.

You slap your palm to your face. “I've got to stop forgetting to introduce myself.”

“Hey now, I didn’t even get to, so now we're even!” Eddie points out. He looks at the dice towers situated next to you and lets out a low whistle. “Man, I’ve always wanted a tower, just for like… Real dramatic rolls. But I don’t know if I can justify paying that much in one go.”

A smirk creeps along our face as you come up with an idea, “How about a little bet?” You take out a random d20 from one of the jars on the other side of the counter, and pull a dice tower up in front of you, between you and Eddie. You hold the die between your finger and thumb, hovering it over the tower. “If this crits, you have to buy it right now.”

Eddie’s smile returns, “And what if it’s a natural one?”

“Then I pay for it for you,” you shrug. “Anything else, we leave it here.”

“I like those odds,” Eddie nods. “Let’s do it.”

You drop the die. It clatters between tiers of wood until…

“20?! No way.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to put you out of pocket! Let’s just forget the whole thing, it was just a joke -”

Eddie shakes his head. “I’m a man of my word. Guess I’m finally upping my game today.” He gives you a reassuring smile as he takes his wallet out. “So, uh, the party’s kinda full now, but if you ever wanted to just come watch a Hellfire game, we’d be more than happy to have you. We could even put you down as a reserve in case someone can’t make it, if you ever wanted to play!”

“We’ll see,” you give him a small smile. While this Eddie guy does seem sweet, you're still a little apprehensive from the last campaign you were in.

“I’ll just keep coming by every day, as long as it takes to convince you,” Eddie singsongs, in a tone you’re comfortable enough with believing that it’s got friendlier intentions rather than insistent.

“That’ll be a waste then, since I’m not in every day,” you point out.

“Eh, then I just get to visit my good pal Stevie at the video store instead, I’m still good,” Eddie smiles before handing you an entire wad of cash. Your eyes widen, but you don’t ask any questions. You simply ring him up, give him his change and bag up his items for him. He grabs the bag and lifts it up in a farewell greeting. “See you ’round!”

You sigh wistfully to yourself, and hear a familiar voice pipe up next to you. “Alright, I believe you, perhaps Harrington’s not your man, after all.”

You jump at the sound of Ralph’s presence being so close before shaking your head, your face turning a deep shade of pink. “Shut up, so I’ve made conversation with two separate guys. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. I’ll remember that one at your wedding,” he smirks.

“What is it with all of you and assuming I’ll find my future husband while working here?!” you ask exasperatedly before noticing some comics that had fallen behind a shelf that clearly need your full and urgent attention.

#steve harrington x eddie munson x reader #steddie x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson x you #steddie x you #steddie imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #fluff #aul #*myfics

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ask-fantasy-sanders-sides · 2 years ago

Note

Uh oh, what could have happened to them? Did whatever happen to them at the party stick with the reset?? At least you all are mostly safe for now though, right? -♾️

(Open in new tab for readable quality! tumblr hates rn me for some reason)

“Well, good news; They're certainly alive!”

Roman stretches his back for a moment, relieved to finally drop his arms after holding one pose for so long. His eyes still glow with the effects of the divine ritual, but keeping the spell active is not nearly as energy-draining as the initial casting.

Roman looks around the room, eyes still glowing red, and stops on Annie before he can focus on Logan and Remus. She fell asleep about four minutes into the ritual, clearly exhausted from the previous day’s (future day’s?) party. No trace of poison or disease on her, thankfully, though Roman doubts a water nymph could even be poisoned or catch ill.

She was so excited to help, Roman didn’t have the heart to tell her that she couldn’t really cast anything with him. Her sheer delight and determination were so hopelessly endearing, his heart could burst!

(In a way, Roman supposes she did end up contributing to the spell; It’s much easier for a Suneite to draw from Sune’s affection-based divine power when a loved one is being absolutely, heart-stoppingly adorable nearby.)

After taking a moment to make sure she’s still sleeping soundly, Roman finally hones in on Logan and Remus.

He's not sure what he wants to find. If they are poisoned, he can definitely cure at least one of them — Logan, he decides quite easily — but that leaves the issue of who poisoned them, and the more existential question about poisons and time travel that he will leave to his resident magic expert (also Logan). If they aren't poisoned, he doesn't have to worry so much about one of them being in pain, but...how exactly are they going to wake them up?

He trains his enchanted eyes on the two nonetheless, and detects no poison or disease on them. Roman can’t sense the meddling of any fae or demon, either; They’re just exhausted.

…There is a concentration of some sort of pain in their heads, but Roman doesn’t need to tell anyone that. He can’t know for sure if it was psychic damage that took them out, and he’d rather not give Virgil the excuse to blame himself. Not that he ever seems to need one.

He turns to the elf in question to explain his findings. Funnily enough, all three of his waking party members are glowing with the presence of poison; the blades and vials in Virgil’s quiver, the dagger in Patton’s bag, and… what appears to be several venom glands in Dee’s head, throat, and hands?

...That’s odd. A question for another time, though.

“They’re just very tired, basically. I doubt they'll wake until tomorrow, but they’re not hurt.”

“But they will wake up?” Dee asks pointedly, still gently brushing through Virgil’s hair. Virgil seems to have withdrawn into himself, looking and acting much like he had that one night he went ‘sleepwalking.’ His eyes don’t even seem to be focused. But, his ears twitch at Dee’s voice, and Roman has found them to be a much better indicator of Virgil’s attention. He eagerly awaits the answer.

“Oh, you betcha,” Patton smiles first, ever the optimist, “Just give it some time. I’m sure they’ll be good as new!”

Patton directed his answer more towards Virgil than Dee. He clearly wants to comfort their newest friend with a hug, also having noticed the difference in his mood, but he hesitates;

For the last ten minutes, every time either of them has so much as twitched in Virgil’s direction, Dee has fixed them with the most unnerving stare.

Roman just assumes Dee knows something he doesn’t, and is helping Virgil through whatever emotional turmoil has him looking like he’s seen a ghost. They are old friends and ex-lovers, after all, so he must have some experience with these things.

Patton doesn’t seem to agree. In fact, he looks to be getting more and more annoyed with Dee’s tone.

Roman desperately wants to be rid of the tension in the room.

“There is magic powerful enough to ‘heal’ their exhaustion,” Roman muses, “But unfortunately, I haven’t been trained in it. I don’t actually think I could, at my level. My Mamá can, but… Well, there should be someone here who knows the spell. This is a country of clerics, isn’t it?”

Dee smiles sweetly, something unnameable in his eyes as he speaks,

“You could ask around in the central temple. I’m sure there are plenty of priestesses here with that sort of knowledge. In fact, you four should go see to that right now.”

Dee brushes his hand against Virgil’s forehead one more time, then stands and brushes off his pants. As he reaches for his cane, Roman frowns,

“And where are you going?”

“Don't worry your handsome little head about me, Roman,” He grins, “I am just going to have a little chat with our unwanted guest.”

“What??” Roman and Patton shout in unison, and Virgil is already on his feet,

“No! No way—” He hisses so sharply that Roman winces, “Dee, you don't know what she's capable of.”

“Yes I do. You've told me many stories over the years.”

“I'm not letting you face her alone. Besides, she's not the threat here!” Virgil whines, looking borderline desperate,

“She could hear my thoughts just as well as yours. She only went along with my plan because she doesn’t give a damn about the lives or deaths of mortals!”

“What are you saying?” Dee huffs, sounding more annoyed than deterred. Virgil’s back sets straight with an audible crack before he speaks,

“Illia is not here of her own free will! She's being watched and controlled by my M—”

Suddenly, one of Dee’s hands is clasped over Virgil’s mouth. Dee is visibly, furiously livid, and Virgil’s expression has turned something fragile and miserable.

“What are you doing?!” Patton barks in alarm, as though Dee had just slapped Virgil across the face. And, really, he had. Patton is ready to knock Dee flat for it, hopping upright with clenched fists, while Roman has been stunned silent.

Dee’s expression stays vicious, pointed away from anyone else in the room, but his shoulders and hands relax.

“Matron Dhaunarra.” Dee explains in a smooth voice that doesn’t match his snarl at all, “A cruel woman from the colony Virgil was raised in. Nothing more.”

“That’s not what I—“

“I will take care of it.”

Ignoring Patton, Dee releases Virgil, who’s still staring at him like he’s just dropped dead at Virgil’s feet. He opens his mouth to argue, but Dee interrupts him with a raised hand,

“You are not going anywhere near her. I forbid it.”

“No!” Virgil pushes his hand away, a spark of anger returning to his own voice, “I'm not going to just stand back and let her kill you! You're not strong enough to take her on!”

“And neither are you, remember?” Dee rolls his eyes, “Besides, she won't even get the chance to touch me. I am going to the Empress. I will tell her what we know, and we will get rid of her.”

“She…She could stop her, probably…” Virgil nods to himself, over and over again, until it looks more like he’s shaking,

“But what if something goes wrong? What if she remembers like we do, and gets to you first??”

“She doesn’t know where we are. And if she finds out, then I will call you and let you know the same way I called Remus to the ballroom.” Dee sighs. He seems settled back into his skin now, smiling calmly and reaching up to pat Virgil’s cheek, almost in apology.

“Trust me, darling. I can handle this just fine.”

“Uhh. It seems I may be missing some context here,” A lot of context, Roman mutters to himself, still a bit shaken by whatever just possessed Janus to silence Virgil like that, “But I also don't like the idea of you going alone. If you're just going to warn the Empress, why can't we all go together?”

“Because I am the only one here with the charisma to convince Her Luminous Imperial Majesty to act against someone who hasn't technically committed a crime yet.” Janus rolls his eyes, repeating the royal title with just a hint of sarcasm. Before Roman can protest to that particular claim, Dee turns his easy smile on him,

“Besides, someone has to take care of Remus. And to protect Virgil, who is in more pain than he’s currently pretending.”

Virgil hisses at him for a moment, not pleased to be called out.

“I need you two to trust me, and Virgil needs you to be there for him right now. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” Dee pleads, and if that doesn’t just tug at Roman’s chest like a guitar string.

He’s honestly not completely sold on letting Dee go fight this alone, especially considering the revenge Roman needs to take on whatever evil-doer would dare to snatch Annie away. But, Roman does agree that Logan and Remus should get medical treatment (or at least some real beds) as soon as possible. And, of course, he definitely doesn’t want to leave Virgil alone when he’s being hunted, and acting so…odd.

“Well, of course,” Roman bows slightly, “If it's in service of protecting someone I care about, I don't need to be asked twice.”

“Promise you'll come back.” Virgil demands instead of asks, angry-red eyes trained directly on Dee. The sorcerer smirks in return,

“A promise to the fae? Here? I don't know if that's a good idea.”

“Please.”

The soft, shaky whisper cut through the barn like shattering glass. Dee even seems more winded by it than Roman, if that were possible. Roman’s never heard him sound this upset.

“You're breaking my heart here, darling,” Dee sighs, then reaches up to plant a quick peck on his cheek,

“Of course I will. I promise.”

“We both will,” Patton huffs, a fake smile plastered on his face as he’s clearly still not pleased with Dee at all. Everyone else in the room balks at him — Everyone but Roman, of course, who has known Patton quite a long time.

“No, no, no—” Virgil chants, panicked, but Patton just walks up and takes his hand,

“Don’t you worry about me, Virgil! Dee said before that this Illia lady waited until she could find you to do anything, right? Then why would she attack two random folks out of the blue?” He reasons, patting Virgil’s hand softly, “And now Dee has someone to protect him if necessary.”

“I don’t want either of you to have to face her! This is my fight!”

“We’re just going to talk to the Empress. Right?” Patton levels Dee with a smile that can be described only as devious. Now it is Dee’s turn to look terribly annoyed.

“Right.” His voice is as dry as bone, “But are you certain you want to leave Virgil and Roman defenseless, with your unconscious boyfriend no less?”

“I trust Roman to take care of them,” Patton answers easily, (setting a little butterfly in Roman’s chest fluttering,) ”And they aren’t going anywhere dangerous. Besides, I think the Empress quite likes me!”

“Surely.”

“I still don’t see why we can’t all go, but I do feel better knowing that Patton will be there to help you. Now I’ll know if either of you are put in danger, so I can bring the cavalry in your defense!” Roman boasts, hiding away the part of him that really doesn’t want Patton to go without him.

“Pat, you have to stop using people’s first names.” Virgil sighs, then kneels down to wrap him up in a hug, dropping his head heavily onto Patton’s shoulder.

Patton is startled at first, but recovers quickly, squeezing him so tight Roman could hear his back pop. Virgil doesn’t mind at all, soaking it in for a few moments before pushing himself back upright, expression closed-off and distant again. He really is acting off this morning.

“If she finds you, tell me right away. I...” Virgil shakes his head, “I don’t know how I’ve been doing this shit, but I’ll take us so far back this time that we can avoid this damn place altogether and never have to deal with this.”

Dee grumbles something under his breath, but no one hears him. He clears his throat and repeats,

“That won’t be necessary.”

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Ask 129 (( @rylaenvol , @justsomecatsinatrenchcoat , @lovelivingmydreams ))

Game Start

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Rules

Most Recent Recap, in case you feel like you missed something!

Available for questions: Patton, Roman, Virgil, Janus, and Annie!

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The boys make some plans on how to deal with Remus, Logan, and Illia'Jhaerza!

Virgil and Janus both seem to be acting strangely since the adrenaline wore off, Janus hiding it better than Virgil. Virgil was much more emotionally (psychologically?) affected by the encounter than he let on, but neither they nor Annie seem to have lasting injuries, except for some lingering exhaustion...

#tw flashing gif #lets roll #ask fantasy sanders sides #ttrpgau art #long post #looks like the language function is malfuntioning!#or maybe finally started functioning?#looks like the party is gearing up to split again #unless you say something to stop them #Janus seems hard to convince though #keep in mind that at this save Roman and Virgil are both already pretty exhausted and injured!#as they often seem to be lol #poor reckless boys #Janus is.....planning something #probably something bad #please tell me if i need to tag anything else!#♾️

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msjokesgf · 3 years ago

Text

The Mourning After-Part 1 (Yuta Okkotsu x Reader)

Summary: You never expected anything to come of your chance meeting with Yuta Okkotsu. Certainly not a relationship. So when you start falling for each other, you quickly discover he's not who he seems to be. His secretive behavior, shadowy employment, and suspicious associates can only lead you to one conclusion…

Word Count: 6,185

Ao3 Link | Masterlist

“One ticket to Tokyo, please.”

That’s how it all started.

After a complete bust of a vacation to Shanghai, you were eager to return home to Japan. So eager, in fact, you decided to leave a day early on the first available flight, which happened to depart at 7:30 that night. Barring any unfortunate delays, you’d arrive at Haneda International Airport by 11 o’clock and crawl into bed just before midnight. At least you could spend your last day of vacation relaxing at home instead of stressing out over last minute travel plans.

You took your baggage to the waiting area and sat down by the big glass window overlooking the runway. It didn’t seem too crowded here. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d have the whole row to yourself. Then you could take a nice nap in peace without worrying about a chatty seatmate. You already had a pounding headache from stress and lack of food. No need to agitate it further with pointless small talk.

Unfortunately, fate was not on your side. As you made your way down the aisle of the plane, you could already see someone else sitting in your row. His face was turned towards the window and partly obscured by his black hair so you couldn’t get a good look at him. He seemed young, around your age, maybe a little older. You were never good with telling ages.

You got closer and noticed something leaning against the seat next to him. Your seat. Just as you were about to ask him to move it, you caught sight of an ornate hilt sticking out of the long, narrow black bag. You rubbed your eyes. Either you were seeing things or there was a sword in there.

“Um, excuse me,” you started, a little quieter than normal, “are you allowed to have that on here?”

Your seatmate turned to look at you. He was a pale, gaunt man with dark eyes rimmed with even darker eye bags. He looked more tired than you felt but still found the energy to smile shyly.

“Yes, it’s all checked in,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice was soft and pleasant to listen to. “Just wanted to make sure it didn’t get lost in baggage.”

You blinked, unable to respond right away. So that really was a sword? And what was it doing with a lanky, unassuming guy like him? Maybe it was a replica and he was some kind of collector? Or a fencer, perhaps. His white high collared jacket looked similar to what they wore. There was no way anyone else could be so nonchalant about having an actual sword, right?

He tilted his head a bit. “Uh, sorry, is it in your seat? I’ll move it out of the way.”

“Oh, thanks,” you said, finally snapping out of your daze. “Sorry, I must’ve spaced out for a minute.”

He just nodded and grabbed the sword, putting it off to the side while you fumbled with the overhead compartment and your baggage. Vaguely, you were aware of your shirt riding up as you stretched but you didn’t care enough to fix it. Nothing much to look at anyway.

“Do you need help?”

You glanced over at your seatmate who looked poised to get up and assist you. You waved him off.

“No, it’s fine, I–got it!” you exclaimed, smiling triumphantly as you took your seat beside him.

He relaxed back in his seat. “First time flying?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied, “but stowing away carry on never gets easier.”

He nodded in agreement. “That’s why I pack light.”

“I wouldn’t consider a sword ‘light.’” Your eyes wandered to the black bag leaning against the cabin wall. “Is it real?”

“Yep.”

“So, you’re a collector, then?”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

“Neat. Is that why you’re going to Tokyo?” you asked.

He shook his head. “No, I live there.”

You brightened. “Me too! I’m near Shibuya. What about you?”

For just a second, his calm, pleasant demeanor faltered and you worried you somehow struck a nerve. Then, he recovered. “That’s nice. I’m by Shinjuku.”

“Oh, cool.”

Normally, you weren’t this talkative with strangers. You didn’t want to bother them and you yourself preferred to be left alone. But something about this guy intrigued you. Despite his non threatening appearance, he had a certain aura about him, a presence that radiated off him in ways you couldn’t quite describe. He’d been polite and indulged you in small talk but his answers were short and vague, not allowing for any deeper conversations. That wasn’t surprising. You only just met a few minutes ago.

“Sorry if I’m bothering you,” you said. “If you wanna listen to music or take a nap after take off, go ahead. I don’t expect you to entertain me for the next two and a half hours.”

He seemed surprised by your apology. “Oh, you’re not a bother at all. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. There’s just a lot on my mind right now.”

The seat belt sign flashed on, briefly interrupting your conversation. You watched the flight attendant demonstrate how to properly put on an oxygen mask and point towards the emergency exits, then settled in for take off.

You turned to your seatmate. “So, what’s your name?”

“Hm?”

“Your name,” you repeated. “If I’m going to spend the next few hours stuck here with you, I feel like we should at least introduce ourselves.”

You told him yours first. He seemed like a nice guy, if a little shy. Maybe it would help him feel a bit more comfortable to open up.

“I’m Yuta Okkotsu,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

So he was Japanese. No wonder he looked like he was ready to pass out at a moment’s notice. Their bosses worked them to an early grave.

You smiled at him. “Likewise.”

For the first half of the flight, you told him all about your nightmare vacation and the “friends” who joined you. Turns out going abroad is one of the toughest tests of friendship there was. After several arguments, lots of tears, and one instance of being abandoned at an unfamiliar location, you threw up your hands in defeat and said you were done. Okkotsu was a very attentive listener, nodding at all the right beats and occasionally asking relevant questions. By the time you were done with your little vent, it was like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

“You look tired,” he commented. “Maybe you should sleep.”

Okkotsu was right. You were tired. Too much stress and an unfamiliar bed had taken its toll on you. Sleep sounded really nice right about now.

You stifled a yawn. “Yeah, I originally planned to take a nap but then I started talking to you, which is far more interesting.”

His eyes darted away. “Go ahead and get some rest. Sounds like you need it after that ordeal.”

Sensing it was pointless to protest, you leaned back in your seat, crossed your arms over your chest, and closed your eyes. It was probably for the best that you did get some sleep. You still needed to navigate public transit when you landed and right now, your tired brain was practically mush.

“You should nap too. Looks like you need it more than I do,” you mumbled, referring to the dark circles under his eyes.

You spent the second half of the flight dead asleep, completely unaware of your surroundings. You only had a vague sense of something warm and firm against your cheek that at first you thought was your hand until you were shaken awake.

“Hey, we’re here.”

Okkotsu’s voice roused you from your slumber. Blearily, you opened your eyes and realized your head was resting on his shoulder, pressed into the fabric of his white jacket. You jolted back and began to profusely apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” you started. “I didn’t mean to use you as a travel pillow. If I drooled or made you uncomfortable–”

He cut you off. “No, it’s okay, really. I didn’t, uh, don’t mind. I dozed off at one point too. It happens.”

You swore you saw the faintest blush on his cheeks. Couldn’t say you blamed him, you were utterly embarrassed too. At least you’d never see him again after this.

You both got to your feet, Okkotsu effortlessly slinging the sword onto his back while you grabbed your luggage from the overhead compartment. Everything you brought was in that suitcase. There was no need to burden yourself with the extra fees or possibility of losing things that came with having multiple bags. Okkotsu was right. Packing light was always…

“That one’s mine.”

You stiffened, very aware of Okkotsu’s sudden closeness to you. He was taller than you expected, easily reaching into the back of the overhead compartment and grabbing a black duffel bag with one hand while the other rested snugly on your waist, holding you steady. His torso was pressed up against your back so he didn’t block any of the disembarking passengers and all you could do was admire how firm he felt. At first glance, he was deceptively skinny, so it was a surprise to feel muscle instead of bone. Definitely an athlete of some kind. Just what was he hiding under that jacket?

When he moved away, the breath came back into your lungs and you swallowed. Your throat was so dry. That little cup of ginger ale the flight attendant gave you at the start had done little to slake your thirst, especially since it was so hot and stuffy in here. You peeked back to make sure Okkotsu was following you as you made your way back down the middle of the plane.

The two of you stayed close together even after you disembarked. It would’ve been pointless to separate since you were going in the same direction and navigating such a big, chaotic airport on your own late at night was not ideal. However, Okkotsu seemed to know his way around very well. He obviously came here often.

“Is someone coming to pick you up?” he asked.

“No, I’m taking the train and then walking home,” you replied.

His brow furrowed in concern. “Are you sure? It’s late. We could give you a ride home. It wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask you to go out of your way like that. I’m fine, really,” you assured him.

He checked his phone again and smiled to himself before turning towards a flight of stairs.

“So, who’s picking you up? Your girlfriend? Boyfriend?” you pried, desperate to know more about your reclusive seatmate before you finally parted ways for good. He hadn’t mentioned a significant other. Was he single?

He simply replied, “Gojo.”

“Who?”

He stepped down off the last stair and nodded to the left. “Gojo.”

Ah.

You immediately saw who he meant. A very tall man with spiky white hair and dark sunglasses (at night?) waved vigorously in your direction, a big grin on his face. Next to him was a tired looking man in a suit and glasses, holding a sign that said “Welcome back, Yuta!” in bold lettering, though the man couldn’t look less enthused about Okkotsu’s return.

“Yuta’s back!” Gojo exclaimed. “Do you like the sign I made? I was going to write something totally embarrassing on it but Megumi talked me out of it. He’s no fun.”

“Can I put it down now, sir?” the other man asked.

Gojo hummed thoughtfully then clapped his hands. “Yes, that’s fine, Ijichi. But take it to the car first so it doesn’t get ruined.”

With a long suffering sigh, Ijichi nodded and walked away towards the parking lot, leaving you alone with Gojo and Okkotsu. Despite standing right in front of him, Gojo had yet to acknowledge your existence, only Okkotsu’s. Either he was completely oblivious or pointedly ignoring you. From what you’d seen, it was most likely the former.

“Thank you for picking me up, Gojo,” said Okkotsu. “The sign was a nice touch. I appreciate it.”

“But of course! Now you can tell me all about how the mis–I mean, business trip went.”

Although they were hidden behind his shades, you felt his eyes shift towards you. For some reason, it gave you chills, like he was staring into your very soul.

Definitely not oblivious.

“And who is this?” he asked.

You told him your name, a little reluctantly.

“She was my seatmate on the plane,” Okkotsu explained, shifting the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Um, this is Satoru Gojo, my mentor.”

Gojo’s eyebrows raised in interest. “Ohhh, I see. Careful, Yuta. You don’t want to make Rika jealous, do you?”

Rika? Who was that? His sister, maybe? Or, most likely, his girlfriend. Your heart sank a bit. Oh well. So he was spoken for. Not surprising.

“I should really get going,” you said, turning to Okkotsu. “I’m absolutely exhausted and still have to find a train to take home.”

“Yes, of course, don’t let me keep you. Go home and enjoy the rest of your vacation. You deserve it.”

He smiled and suddenly, the ground and your feet seemed much more interesting than his face. “Thanks. And, um, again, sorry for earlier. I didn’t mean to talk your ear off like that. It just really helped to have someone listen, you know?”

He chuckled. “Oh, that? I thought you meant the other thing.”

You looked back up at him, trying to keep from blushing. “Jeez, didn’t I already apologize enough for that? I’m sorry.”

But Okkotsu didn’t look upset with you. He merely shook his head. “No, you’re fine. Honestly, that was the best sleep I’ve had in a while, even if you did snore a bit.”

“I did not!” you denied, indignant, although your smile betrayed your true feelings.

Okkotsu quickly composed himself. “Seriously, though, thanks for talking to me. It helped keep my mind off things I really don’t have control over and shouldn’t worry about. I’m…glad we met, if only briefly.”

“Too brief,” you replied.

A frown tugged at his lips. “Yeah, too brief.”

You both stood there in silence, neither of you wanting to be the one to say goodbye and walk away. It had to happen. You’d known it since the beginning. After all, he was just a stranger who happened to sit next to you on the same plane. No one particularly special.

So why was this so hard?

Finally, he said the words. “I-I guess this is goodbye, then.”

“Yeah,” you breathed, “I guess it is. Goodbye Okkotsu. Have a nice life.”

“You too. Stay safe.”

Before you turned to leave, you went to say bye to Gojo, who had managed to sneak away without either of you noticing. He was doing a very bad job of trying to “act natural” by staring pensively at a nearby trash can and stroking his chin, still obviously within earshot. Okkotsu sighed, mumbled a “sorry about him,” then loudly cleared his throat, startling his mentor.

“Let’s go, Gojo. Time to leave,” he announced as he walked towards the man in question.

Gojo threw up a peace sign. “Alrighty! Let’s get going. I bet the higher ups can’t wait to hear all the juicy details. But I figured I’d let you have your little moment first. Happy to see you taking an interest in someone who’s uh, still alive.”

You rolled your eyes at his antics. How anyone managed to put up with him for longer than a few hours was a mystery to you. But it did cheer you up a bit. Gojo guided Okkotsu in the direction Ijichi scampered off to and before they were out of sight, you managed to catch Okkotsu’s eye one last time, when he looked back over his shoulder.

You never expected to see him again.

When you parted ways at the airport months ago, you assumed it would be the last time you ever saw Yuta Okkotsu. Tokyo was such a big place with so many people. What were the chances you’d end up randomly running into him again? Slim to none, you were sure of it.

But fate had other plans for you.

The bar you liked to go to was relatively small and unknown, tucked away in a little corner of Shibuya. Very few people knew about it, and most of the patrons were regulars who’d been going there for years. You only knew about it because an old ex used to take you from time to time.

So it was quite a shock when you walked up to the bar and saw a familiar figure hunched over a crystalline glass filled with dark liquid. One long finger traced the rim of the glass, his jet black hair falling in his face. At first, you thought it was just someone who looked like him. Okkotsu was rather nondescript, save for his piercing eyes and gaunt face. But then you noticed a familiar bag strapped to his back and really, who else carried around a sword like that nowadays?

“Okkotsu!” you called, startling him out of his thoughts.

He looked up from his drink and searched for the source of his name until his eyes fell upon you. Recognition flashed on his face and he gave you the same shy smile he had on the plane. Emboldened, you approached and sat on the empty stool beside him.

“Long time no see, seatmate,” you teased, flashing him a friendly smile.

“Y-yeah, been a while,” he replied. “How are you?”

You shrugged. “Alright, can’t complain. And you? What brings you to this little corner of Shibuya?”

The bartender noted your presence and went about preparing your usual drink. That’s how long you’d been coming here. He knew what you wanted without even asking. Good service was part of why you kept coming back. Being a creature of habit also had something to do with it.

“Oh, you know, just finished a job for work,” he answered vaguely. “It’s been stressful lately.”

Okkotsu pushed the hair back from his face and downed his liquor like a pro. He seemed like a spirit kinda guy. You doubted this was the first time he used alcohol to deal with work stress.

“Cheers, I’ll drink to that,” you said, raising your glass a bit before you took a sip, letting the alcohol burn the back of your throat.

He regarded you carefully, his gaze sharp and calculating. There it was again, that same aura from before. You’d felt it on the plane. It made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Something told you despite his relatively quiet demeanor, Okkotsu was capable of a lot more than he seemed.

“So, what is it you do, Okkotsu? I don’t think you mentioned it in our last conversation,” you prompted.

He tensed, clearly caught off guard by your question. “Well, it depends. Mostly I just do what I’m told to do. The higher ups give me an assignment and I take care of it.”

Another vague answer. Guess he wasn’t one for personal details. You could understand. If work was stressful, you definitely didn’t want to think about it more than you had to. Plus, you were still practically a stranger. No one liked nosy strangers.

“Grunt work, eh? Yeah, that’s a thankless job,” you concurred. “Corporate?”

“Something like that.”

“Cool.”

The two of you fell silent, though it wasn’t awkward. In fact, it was rather comfortable. Just sitting here next to him made you feel warm inside, although that could’ve been the alcohol taking effect. Quietly, you sipped your drink, occasionally sneaking glances at his side profile. You’d been wrong earlier. Okkotsu wasn’t plain or nondescript. Really, he was quite attractive. Looking at him now allowed you to fully appreciate his long lashes and sharp jaw, his slender fingers and slightly upturned nose. Even the bags under his eyes seemed to accentuate their blue color, so dark you initially mistook it for black.

Evidently, you weren’t as discreet about your staring as you thought. He caught your gaze before you could look away.

“Gojo hates the higher ups,” Okkotsu told you. “He says they’re too close minded and old fashioned. I’m inclined to agree with him.”

It took you a moment to place the name. When you did, you made a face. “Yeah, I don’t think that guy is a big fan of any authority.”

That comment earned you a chuckle. “He’s his own boss for sure. I’m surprised you remember him.”

“Kinda hard to forget a guy like that,” you said. “Even harder to forget one like you.”

A harmless flirt, just a little something to gauge his reception. Maybe if you hadn’t been drinking, it would’ve stayed inside your mind where it belonged, but he hadn’t broken eye contact yet and his knee brushed against yours under the bar. It was worth a shot. You’d be kicking yourself later if you let this opportunity slip through your fingers.

His throat bobbed. “Please, I don’t really think I’m all that interesting.”

“Well, I do.” You leaned in closer. “So why don’t we get to know each other better?”

Those words hung heavily in the air between you, which was already thick with tension. Okkotsu regarded you with careful consideration. In the dim lighting, his pupils dilated and his skin appeared unnaturally pale, like it was made of marble or alabaster. There it was again. That feeling deep in the pit of your stomach. Was it danger? Or desire? He downed the rest of his liquor in one go and a grim smile spread across his lips.

“You don’t want to get involved with someone like me,” he warned. “Trust me.”

“Ooh, so ominous,” you teased, unable to contain yourself. “You know, saying stuff like that makes you sound even more mysterious and intriguing. Let me guess, you’re some sort of spy on a secret government mission to save the world, right?”

He rolled his eyes at that. “I can neither confirm nor deny that statement,” he replied, staring down at the last dregs of liquor in his glass.

You laughed. “So you do have a sense of humor. And here I thought I was going to have to buy another round to get you to loosen up.”

Okkotsu looked over at you. “Usually I’d need one,” he said. “But there’s just something about you that makes me feel calm.”

You ended up buying him another drink anyway, then some ice water, and a plate of bar food you both shared while you sat and talked. Conversation flowed just as easy as last time with minimal lulls and slowly, you started to form a more complete picture of Yuta Okkotsu in your mind. He was content to let you lead most of the conversation but, bit by bit, he opened up as well. For most of his childhood, he was bullied and ostracized, unable to make many meaningful connections until high school. He went to some private religious school on the outskirts of Tokyo and started his current job right after graduation. Apparently his schedule was rather sporadic and highly subject to the whims of his employer. Extended business trips were common so he was well traveled and flew often.

The longer you talked, the less you wanted to leave. It’d been a while since you had a proper friend to talk to and laugh with. Ever since the Shanghai fiasco, you’d been mostly on your own, only really interacting with your coworkers in passing. But Okkotsu felt genuine, like you could really build a strong connection together. Time practically melted away in his presence and you almost did a double take when you checked your phone to see how late it was. Mutually, you decided to pay and leave, walking out onto the street together.

“I had a nice time tonight,” Okkotsu said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I don’t really have a chance to get out much, especially with friends.”

“Oh? So I’m a friend now?”

He scrambled for an answer. “Well, I mean, only if you want to be, I just thought, you know–”

Yuta Okkotsu could actually be kind of adorable. It endeared him more to you.

“Calm down, I’m messing with you.” You held out your hand. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I want your number. Can’t be losing sight of you again.”

He complied and you each exchanged contact info with promises to meet up again soon. When all was said and done, you prepared to part ways for the second time.

“See you again, Okkotsu,” you said, taking in the sight of him under the neon street signs.

“Yuta,” he corrected, that small smile tugging at his lips again. “You can call me Yuta.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Y-yeah…” was all you managed before you turned to walk away, your cheeks burning and stomach in knots.

Oh, well. What harm was there in having a little crush?

It didn’t stay a crush for long.

After that night, you and him were in constant contact, texting practically all day, everyday, and seeing each other at least once a week. You’d been right; Yuta was a fast friend, someone you confided in about almost everything in your life. Despite his crazy schedule, he always found a way to get back to you and when you hung out, you had his full attention. He seemed to hang off your every word, like each story you told was the most interesting he’d ever heard and the most mundane of days was exciting. Coupled with his good looks and quiet manner, it only took a few weeks to fan the initial sparks of attraction into a fiery infatuation that was impossible to ignore.

He was constantly on your mind, the first person you texted in the morning and the last one you thought about at night. You had it bad and Yuta’s actions only made things worse. Friendly banter, light touches, anything that could be considered flirting gave you hope that maybe he felt the same. Or he was utterly oblivious, which was just as likely. You were no stranger to making the first move and as time wore on, you came to the conclusion that if you didn’t confess soon, nothing might ever come of this.

Of course, when you finally made the decision to confess, Yuta was abroad on one of his “business trips.” Every few months his mysterious bosses would send him overseas to fulfill some sort of contract. This time he was in Morocco, a full eight hours behind Japan, which complicated communication. Your texts went unanswered for hours and frankly, you didn’t want to confess over a phone call. You wanted to do it in person. It’s what he deserved.

The day he got back, Yuta agreed to meet you at your apartment. He’d already been there a few times over the course of your short friendship and if you were going to confess your feelings, you wanted to do it somewhere private. You would’ve suggested meeting up at his place instead, since you figured he’d be tired and jet lagged from the long flight, but you’d never been there before. Whenever you expressed interest in coming over, he always had some excuse and said he preferred hanging out at your place. It was a little strange given how close the two of you had grown, not that you thought much of it. As long as you got to see him, you were happy.

Yuta texted and apologized for running late, saying he’d be there soon. You sighed and replied it was no problem before reclining on the couch, trying to calm your nerves. He’d be here any minute and you still had no idea what you were going to say to him. All you knew was you had feelings for him. Deep feelings. Feelings that could break your friendship if they weren’t reciprocated, depriving you of your closest confidante in a long while. This isn’t completely hopeless, you told yourself. You were pretty confident he shared your feelings, he was just a little more subtle about it. And not once had you heard him mention a girlfriend or that he was seeing someone.

Another twenty minutes passed and just when you were about to call him, you heard a knock at the door. You got up and practically ran to open it, revealing a very tired looking Yuta. His dull eyes brightened when you smiled at him.

“Hey, you’re back! It’s so good to see you again,” you said.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too.” He yawned. “Sorry I was late. I thought I could take a quick nap before I came but no luck. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“No, not at all,” you replied, ushering him inside. “Can I get you anything? Water? Juice? A coffee, maybe?”

“No, I’ve already had way too much caffeine today.” He dragged his hands over his face and fought off another yawn. “I’m running on four hours of sleep.”

You gave him a sympathetic look. “You didn’t have to come, you know. We could’ve seen each other tomorrow. I could’ve waited.”

He stepped closer, his dark eyes boring into yours. “But I couldn’t. I had to see you.”

You swallowed thickly when you felt his fingers curl around your wrist. “You…really have no sense of self preservation, do you?” you murmured. “I think you’re starting to lose it.”

“Only when I’m away from you,” Yuta breathed, tracing shapes into your skin. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You tore your gaze from his face and looked down at his hand. “Yuta, there’s something I have to–”

You cut yourself off. Confess . That was the word you wanted to say, but it died in your throat, along with whatever fondness you felt for him in that moment. There, on his left ring finger, was a wedding band. It was silver and delicate with a single stone in the center. Your heart sank into your stomach.

“You’re married.”

The words came tumbling out before you could stop them. It was an accusation, not a question. Shock quickly turned to anger and disgust as everything started to make sense. His odd hours and strange behavior, never disclosing more than he needed to about his job or personal life. That’s why he never invited you over to his apartment. There were probably too many pictures and mementos scattered around for him to hide. He had to know you’d start asking questions if you saw evidence of a woman living there. You wondered if he’d done this before. How many women had he fooled with his “quiet, nice guy” act?

You felt sick to your stomach. If only you found out sooner, then you would’ve never gotten this involved with him, never would’ve started falling for him, or who you thought he was. He was a cheater and a liar. Instead of spending his limited free time with his wife, he was sneaking around with you. His poor, lonely wife. Did she know about you at all? Or was she blissfully ignorant?

He had the audacity to look confused. “Married? I’m not married. Why would you think that?”

Was he really trying to play dumb?

“Then what’s this?” you hissed, sharply pulling up his left hand.

You expected him to start panicking or making excuses, maybe even cry. Cheaters could be expert manipulators and you weren’t going to fall for any more of his lies. But instead, he looked genuinely surprised to see it.

“Oh, I must’ve forgotten to take this off,” he said offhandedly.

You watched in disbelief as he started to work it off his finger. It came off with little resistance, like he’d done it dozens of times before. Your blood boiled at the sight.

“How can you be so heartless?” Your voice shook with emotion. “You’re treating this like some sort of misunderstanding and not a huge betrayal of trust. I trusted you, Yuta, cared about you, and now I’m finding out not only are you married but you’ve been leading some sort of double life the entire time I’ve known you.”

He looked at you pleadingly. “Because this is a misunderstanding. Please, let me explain. I’m not married and I don’t have a wife.”

“Then what’s that?” you cried, gesturing to the very obvious wedding ring in his hand.

“A keepsake from my friend, who died as a kid.”

His words struck you like a blow and you stepped back, struggling to process this sudden revelation. You searched his face for any hint of deception, but there was none. Against your better judgment, you wanted to believe him, for this to all be some big misunderstanding.

Cautiously, you spoke, “Is that really true? Because if you’re lying to me, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I’d never lie about her.” Yuta undid the buttons of his jacket, revealing the plain black t-shirt he wore underneath. Around his neck was a chain. “I’ve worn it the whole time we’ve known each other, you just haven’t seen it. Usually it’s under my clothes, but sometimes I put it on to feel closer to her.”

You narrowed your eyes as he removed the chain and threaded the ring through it. “She sounds like more than a friend. Were you…in love with her?”

Yuta smiled sadly. “Yes, I was.”

“Oh.”

You couldn’t help it. You turned away from him and hugged yourself as the adrenaline from earlier started to wear off. Well, this completely threw a wrench in your plans. How could you possibly confess to him now? He openly admitted to loving someone else, and even if she was dead, he still wore her ring, apparently everyday. Whoever she was, he clearly wasn’t over her.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this? I thought we were close,” you uttered quietly.

You felt his hand on your shoulder. “Because it’s not easy for me to talk about. She died right in front of me when I was ten. She gave this ring to me on my birthday and we promised to marry each other when we grew up. Shortly after, she was hit by a car. It’s all I have left of her.”

You turned back to look at him. There were tears in his eyes. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t hate me for not telling you,” he pleaded, squeezing your shoulder. “I can’t lose you too. You’re so important to me.”

“I could never hate you, Yuta,” you said, taking his face in your hands. “I really care about you. That’s why I was so upset. I thought there was someone else.”

“There is no one else,” he replied. “Only you.”

And then he kissed you.

It was everything you thought it’d be. Soft and sweet, a little timid but full of feeling. You savored every moment and when you parted, you were crying too.

“Please don’t cry,” Yuta said, thumbing the tears away. “I want to make you happy.”

“You do. You make me so happy.” You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his shirt. “But if you’re not ready, I understand. We can take things slow. We don’t even have to label it, if you want. I won’t see anyone else. I just want you.”

He rubbed your back and kissed the top of your head. “I’ve wanted you since we first met but I was too shy to ask for your number. I thought I lost my chance. Then I ran into you at that bar and couldn’t believe my luck.”

You giggled. “Same.”

Yuta ended up crashing at your place.

He was too worked up and exhausted for you to send home in good conscience, so you let him stay for the night. When you offered him your bed, he tried to protest and insist he take the couch, but you shut him up with a firm kiss and suggested you share. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out, his chest slowly rising and falling.

Unlike him, you weren’t tired enough to fall asleep right away. There was too much on your mind. Of course you were happy he shared your feelings and now he was sharing your bed but a part of you worried about the kind of baggage he might be toting around. Everyone had a past with something that could potentially complicate a romantic relationship, but you were afraid this was a lot more than you could handle.

You rolled over and sighed when you saw how peaceful Yuta looked. How could you think such negative things about your future when he was here beside you? You moved closer, carefully snuggling up to his side. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes was the outline of the ring beneath his shirt.

This started as a one shot but because I’m incapable of writing anything short, I decided to split it up into three chapters and this felt like the natural ending point for the first part. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated and my inbox is open if you want to ask me any questions or chat about the manga (I’m up to date).

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #yuta okkotsu #yuta okkotsu x reader #jujutsu okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #cross posted on AO3 #the mourning after fic

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mariamariquinha · 2 years ago

Text

Bossa Nova (Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x f!reader) - Two

One | Three

SUMMARY: Kojak was a good fish. He didn’t speak much, but he was there.

WORD COUNT: 3.707.

WARNINGS: Talks about medication (nothing but antacids), a person talking with a fish, a person talking with their Alexa, a brief (almost nothing) mention to alcoholism, another brief mention of violence, bad words, considerable copying mechanisms, mentions of music I have on my playlist, cheating (not from reader or Benny), talks about loneliness, talks about divorce and... talks about gastritis (take care of yourselves).

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Just... Trust the process.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

****

Summary:

*Souvlaki: a type of fast food common in Greece, which consists of small grilled skewers of small pieces of meat and vegetables. It can be served on a stick alone, to be eaten with your hands, in a sandwich or on a plate.

****

If someone asked if you were sad, you would deny it. Not right away, maybe you'd still pause to pretend the drama made some sense, but in the end you'd end up saying 'no, it's okay, these things happen'. It was a response you were used to giving and it worked. No one wanted to take on the responsibility of empathetic listening to a story like that.

It would be different, however, if someone asked if you were resentful. You would make an ugly face, think of a milder response and end up not saying anything, because you knew that if you dared to verbalize that kind of feeling, Mathias certainly wouldn't have the upper hand that afternoon.

You know, at the end of the day it was really okay for Theodore to want to try new things and put an end to a relationship that was already on the wane; it would be easier not to remember him with contempt. And you were friends before you could start anything and, fuck, you did it before you could even get married in the first place.

He took the hard way, though. All in all, Theodore ended up doing the only thing you said you wouldn’t want to deal with, so it surely put you in a rut gray zone of personal devaluation, lack of self-esteem and sense of betrayal.

The girl was 21 years old. Twenty one. It wasn’t like some sort of replacement, but a whole new life, with a whole new person, fresh start from the beginning to end, the total opposite of what you were. It opened up a tough wound that made you revert to the old habits of having to look in the mirror every day before leaving the house in the inconstancy of uncertainty, because fuck, if that was what he really went to, did he ever liked you at least? Aside from the conformity of the relationship?

Theodore obviously did things to her that he used to do for you, but he did it better. You found the receipts – he got incredibly dumb or really audacious not to be more careful about it. Flowers, chocolates, travel, movies, gifts... the best sex of your life. How long he intended to go on like this you didn't know, but his lack of honesty coupled with a singular rejection of his affections for you made you more angry than sad. In the end, Theodore took more than years from your life, going as much as waste your feelings and loyalty; that wasn't fair.

Maybe that's why when Emma scolded you about what happened with Mathias, you just conceded in chances for the topic to just be over. She was talking about how irresponsible it was to let yourself be carried away by his provocations, that Gina could be harmed too, that you should be more careful about this, but little by little her voice disappeared and you were no longer listening to anything, nor reacting in any way other than nodding affirmatively.

She must have been surprised – fuck, you would never be quiet on that kind of occasion. You couldn’t stand for yourself, couldn’t say that what he said had some levels of harassment, couldn’t call her out for putting the blame solely on you. It would be immature, you thought, to force morality on someone else when it could only have some level of importance to you.

That's why you would never be an ideal field agent: you insisted on expecting the best from people.

“Right, right,” You murmured with yourself at the sound of your alarm going off in the bedside table. The first hints of sun rays made you remember that you should have closed the curtains the night before, but that alone would wake you up less abruptly, at least.

Still grunting, you crawled out of bed and laid down on the carpet with your forearm covering your eyes.

“Alexa?” Nothing. “... Alexa!”

In the background, you could hear the device coming to life on your desk.

“Play that Gwen Stefani one!”

“Playing Hollaback Girl by Gwen Stefani provided by Spotify”.

And you can close your eyes and listen to the rhythm of the music, to genuinely remember your golden teenage years of pretending to be a cheerleader in the backyard with your brother. You would remember of being 13 again; remember the smell of fresh grass, the sticky tutti-frutti lipsticks and your mother's perfume that you used in secret; remember the rattling noise of the countless bracelets and necklaces that you used to decorate yourselves, the music echoing throughout the neighborhood and your father laughing at you when he arrived home from work for that scene; feel the pleasant sun burning your skin, the hem of your skirt floating above your knees and the irrelevant discomfort of the little pussies holding your hair tightly because your brother only knew how to do hairstyles like that.

Yes, that was life. Less bitter, more innocent. Your brother would call you an idiot if he saw you revisiting so many memories like that, but it was a good thing you lived alone to do so.

‘Dinner night’, the pink sticker said on the fridge door when you opened it to consider having a beer first thing in the morning. You looked at the intact Budweiser crate parked at the back of the fridge, then at the eggs, and finally at Kojak, who was particularly standing inside the aquarium.

“Juice,” You grabbed the juice box, gastritis becoming a scarier reality than you thought and making you distance yourself from coffee.

Alone, you could feel the silence of the house as if it was hugging you from behind. Despite any busy week, you could eye Kojak unassumingly between sips of the drink, not hear anyone complaining about the uselessness of the resident fish next to your TV or all the neatly arranged shoes by the door.

Alone. In private.

With a too-much-old guppy fish that would eventually die anytime.

With the songs you liked and the cheesy playlists.

You sighed, rolled your neck here and there, then went to the fridge again and took out ice cubes, placing them in a bowl of water. After another sip of juice (to build up courage, like after a shot of tequila in a random bar before trying a backflip), you stared at your own reflection in the water before putting your face in it.

Your routine. Alone.

****

“Clarithromycin plus amoxicillin? What is it?”

You glanced at Lennon over your shoulder in time to see him take hold of your medicine flask and frown at the vial.

“Aren’t you the CSI guy? I thought you all learned it in college,” Turning to the monitor in front of you, he left a small ‘tsk’ before leaning over the desk beside you, flask still in hand.

“You think you’re cute, huh?” He waved the thing in front of your face.

“A cute woman with gastritis,” You snapped it out of his hold, tucking it safely away from his grasp.

“Is that what young people are into these days?”

“Didn't you know? Diseases associated with psychological problems are the latest trend.”

Lennon was a good friend. You two usually didn’t make that type of pair who would do everything together, nor share a lot of secrets, but you two met back during your first week at the LASD and things after that were always amicable. Sometimes you regretted having made him wait so long to get to the sexual part of that arrangement, but you had a clear conscience that he wasn't in the middle of your shit when it happened.

“Looks like you’re taking it seriously,” He said after measuring your face for a beat, now gesturing to the vegan protein bars well placed in a drawer you forgot to close.

“I haven't had coffee or stale pizza in almost a month, Lennon. Desperate situations call for pretty horrible solutions like taking antacids and eating… that.”

Lennon laughed.

“Yikes.”

“I’m still trying to see the cup half full, though.”

With that, he goes quiet, standing still by your side but swiping his eyes to the computer screen you were working on. You did the same, leaving him there for a while to see if he would say or do anything, but when a few minutes passed and nothing happened, you took the initiative.

“What brings you here?”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“Gina told me about what happened with Walsh,” The mention of the name made your hand stop moving the mouse, and for a moment you hesitated to respond, knowing he would be watching you carefully.

“... Mm.”

“Are you okay?”

“It wasn’t like it was the first time,” You kept staring at the computer, still not daring to give anything away.

“Should be the last though.”

“I wish this were in my power.”

“Huh,” He paused, which made you believe that was the end of the topic. “It could be in Magalon's power, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

This piqued your curiosity, because honestly that wasn’t something you considered but should. He didn’t say a thing to Mathias, and it could be seen as somewhat a passive defeated stance to Walsh, but at any moment they both talked to each other. Not that Benny hid any aversion to the feds, you've even witnessed the taunts he hurled at them in collaborative cases, but it wasn't like Mathias was going to reserve himself from biting back when it came to show off.

But then Lennon shrugged with a smile when you poked him to spill the gossip right away, satisfied to get your interest peaked.

“Didn't you notice Walsh had a cut lip?” You frowned at that, but the gears started to turn in your head to pick any resemblance of that afternoon.

“... Ah.”

“They had a one-on-one. I mean, Magalon’s fist punched his face and that was it, so I don’t know if one-on-one is the term I’m looking for.”

“WHA-What?”

Listen, you didn't know Benny well, at least not like you knew Nick, for example, but the idea of him losing reserves in favor of punching a man like Mathias was kind of unlikely. He didn't seem all that reactive, at least if he didn't have to – by the way, didn’t they deal with that kind of stuff, like, almost all the time?

“Curious that you don't know this, I thought you were O'Brien's favorite.”

“I’m not,” You sounded too defensive for your own good, which made Lennon smirk. “When was it?”

“As soon as the DEA took over the case, say… a month ago? Gina was there, she told me.”

“And why do I just know this now? Fuck, that’s hot gossip!”

“Maybe Emma told her not to say anything. I think she wants to keep you out of, you know, anything involving Mathias.”

That made sense, but you weren’t sure if it came with the best of intentions. You leaned back on your seat, arms crossed, and there was a cloud of frustration forming back over the top of your head.

“I’ve heard about what she said to you about yesterday,” He offered, tone now more careful and soft.

“Getting some hot seat, you mean,” You glanced in his direction. “Why did this happen? Doesn't seem like the kind of thing Magalon would do.”

“Well, that’s the kind of thing that would happen to Walsh, so there's no doubt it happened.”

That rented a triplex inside your brain. Later that day, when you saw Benny passing by the corridor, you naturally wondered what could have been the catalyst for a physical fight between him and Walsh. No one would just simply go over punching people without a reason, but at the same time it seemed so… ordinary, like an eventuality.

What kind of disrespect would make a man like Benny act impulsively? And how revigorating could it be to punch the problem in the face?

****

A person who could punch the problem in the face? Your mother.

She was sitting across from you in the restaurant, talking and repeating herself about how she thought she sawTheodore at Macy's and considered giving him a hard time. You had already decided that it was better for her to not get involved. She was complaining again about it. Your father, on the other hand, just shook his head and sipped his wine with a disgruntled smirk on his face, and you looked at both of them thinking how that scenario would change if you just told them how that was the last of your worries.

“You need to be more diplomatic,” He said to her with a clipped tone, probably taking your tired expression as this long rant – as if you were still listening to her at that point.

“Diplomatic? With a man who did that to our daughter? That would be a disrespect to my principles!”

“Well, then try not to be disrespectful to our daughter's principles,” You eyed them when a beat of silence took place after your father’s words.

You could see her recalculating her strategy.

“... I'm just saying his mother is definitely talking bad about us. The girls at the book club have been giving me looks. I need to stand up for myself as well, it affected all of us.”

You and your father exchanged glances when she said that, because it was as if all the turns she took in the conversation were intended to arrive at the moment when the subject was about her, which wasn't exactly news to anyone.

“I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you,” Your sarcasm dripped over the table and, accessing the damage she made, your mother sighed.

“... I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just so frustrating for me to not be able to do anything,” The step back made you sigh then, both elbows placed around your plate.

“You shouldn't care what your book club friends think. As far as I know, they're middle-aged women hoping to meet a ripped cowboy from Nora Roberts' books while they're married to husbands who barely shower because they don't have the balls to get a divorce.”

She practically coughed out a laugh, which was a victory: it meant she wouldn't take it seriously and you'd have time to think of the next viable alternative until she just stopped caring. You sighed in relief when she did as much as agree with you.

“You know, I think we should really do that trip to Barbados. Give something better to them to talk about.”

You were able to breathe easier, as if a corset had been removed from your torso when you heard them babble and laugh about the conventional stories of the friends or relatives or someone else but you. This meant that the distraction wouldn't bring anyone to the subject of Theodore, nor would it remind you of work, and that was for the best. God knew how much you needed that break with good expensive food you wouldn’t have to pay.

****

“Oof! Sorry.”

You had your eyes down adjusting the hem of your dress when you ended up bumping into someone. Despite the shock, you didn't imagine that it would be nothing more than a distracting inconvenience, but you had barely left the bathroom and came face to face with Benny not even a minute later.

“Oh, hey,” He offered with a grin, doing as much as looking at your surprised face with a small frown.

“... Hi! How are you?”

“Good, good. You?”

“Good. It’s a surprise to see you here… I mean, a coincidence. What’s the chance?” You managed an uncertain weak smile in return, fingers still fidgeting with the hem of the dress.

“And they say that Los Angeles is the second most populous city in the country.”

“Yeah, and I still managed to bump into you. I'm sorry.”

“No, it's okay.”

A brief silence hung in the air, especially since you didn't know whether to excuse yourself to go back to your table altogether or try to bring up some other topic with him. You noticed that he wasn't wearing anything other than his conventional work attire, which in itself made you feel a little out of character even if the situation itself suggested otherwise. Maybe it was tension – there was something about him you knew and the news drummed in your head like Lennon's voice echoing deep inside.

You didn’t know how to proceed without resisting the urge to blurt out a question, because it was definitely the first thing that came to your mind after seeing him.

“Date night?” Benny asked with interest, leaning on the counter beside him and giving you an out.

“Dinner night. I’m here with my parents.”

“Oh.”

“Wouldn’t be able to afford a casual dinner night in a place like this on a regular basis,” It made you both share one of those dry giggles, ones that stood between politeness and bad small talk.

“You're right about that.”

“But what about you?”

“Ah, I lost a bet,” He grimaced, thumb pointing to something over his shoulder. “I wasn't going to bring Tony to have dinner for two here, so.”

“I hope this never happens to me.”

“What? Have dinner for two with me?”

You knew he was just teasing you, but for some reason (which was perhaps explicitly obvious) you found his comment and tone somewhat charming. Your cheeks heated up, and the giggle you let out was a little embarrassing if you thought about it too much. Benny searched your face when you looked to the side to hide it, and when you looked at him again he had a loose smirk on his face.

“Tony's not exactly an avid admirer of mine, is what I meant. I wouldn't bet with him for shit.”

“Well, circumstances are in your favor. He's going to eat cold Souvlaki* in the precinct and you're here. One of you is winning.”

“What kind of bet would make you buy him Souvlaki?”

“The one that you wouldn’t like to do, I assume.”

You two shared more laughs at that, which was soon interrupted by the sight of your father craning his neck towards you to see what was happening. Making that mix of universes would be completely out of the question.

“Erm… I think my parents are waiting for me.”

“Oh, sure. No problem. See you tomorrow?”

“Of course. Good night.”

“Thanks. Have a good dinner.”

You didn't respond verbally, choosing to nod your head and just leave, unaware of him following your silhouette carefully.

“Who was him?” Your mother asked as soon as you sat down.

“Who?”

“The guy you’re talking to.”

Fuck.

“Oh, Benny, he’s…” You lamely gestured with your hands, still being able to see him at the spot you just found him absently scrolling through his phone. “He’s a detective. We work together.”

“I didn't know this was a regular pit stop for cops,” She commented with a dismissive tone, but you didn’t indulge.

“He looks familiar… I think I saw him on TV this morning,” Your father said, taking another look around to get an eye on Benny.

“He's working on the liquor store case,” You took a sip of your water.

“Oh, the homicide one?” It peaked his interest, even if soon enough your mother was glaring at him.

“Mm-hm.”

“No work talk on the table,” She warned you two.

From afar, you saw Benny picking up the delivery package and turning towards you, where he gave you a discreet wave which you returned. With silence established between the three of you, you casually watched him cross the street to reach his own car, the glass of the restaurant's facade giving you a good view. He accelerated a moment later, disappearing across the asphalt in the direction of the station.

Maybe he was a great actor, or maybe he was just one of those guys who really managed to fool people, but you genuinely reflected that whatever had happened between him and Walsh was an, almost exoteric way, an astral realignment of penance that people in general faced when on a daily-basis routine with someone like Mathias.

You might actually like him a little more for that.

****

You left your heels beside the door and let out a sigh as you leaned against the closed door, not daring to turn on a single light. Kojak was still there, hidden in his small Spongebob house, sleeping as a baby and hopefully not dead. You put your hand on the glass for a moment, watched the small jet of water in the left corner, past the little yellow pebbles at the bottom.

“A punch in the face of Mathias Walsh… Can you imagine? Must be a dream.”

And as always, Kojak didn’t answer you for the sake of his sleep and because he was a fish, sure. Still, you waited for a few seconds, touching your forehead on the glass while taking one of those long breaths before heading to your room.

The bedroom carpet felt more comfortable when you lay on it that night than it did in the morning. This time, you stared at the white ceiling, and glanced to the side to see some dirt under the bed, the buzz of the night fading from your body and compressing the lightness of distraction in favor of the tiring weight of your reality.

You closed your eyes and saw the warm lights of the restaurant, accompanied by the soft sound of Bossa Nova music echoing in the background. Another moment to save yourself; you wish you could remember the feeling of genuinely laughing at something for the first time in days.

Curious that the person responsible for this was a detective who seemed like a walking contradiction – even more so that this same detective had something to do with one of the things you would really like to forget.

****

No pressure tags:

@sexuallover

@paintlavillered

@cheesybadgers

#benny borracho magalon #benny magalon x reader #benny magalon fic #den of thieves #den of thieves fic #maurice compte

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pinkteapotwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Not so Innocent desires

Wolfstar x fem!reader

Warning : This is so filthy dear lord, explicit sexual content, Sub!fem reader, spanking, oral, innocence kink and I think that’s it

Just good ol fashioned smut

Summary : Turns out you Remus and Sirius want to treat you a certain way, it takes some special kind of convincing from your end though.

Word count : 3164

The lovely @fionanovasleftnut had a wonderful idea that I couldn’t resist writing about. I’m not sure with how this one turned out but I hope I did the idea justice. xXx

---

Being a family friend of the Weasleys had its perks. You always had someone to stick up for you, always had someone who could make you laugh, and you always had a home with them, wherever that may be. You had moved out on your own as soon as you graduated from Hogwarts, but it seemed that wasn’t the way to start your life as a young adult. The wizarding world was at war and Molly Weasley was insistent that one of her adopted daughters should not be defenseless living alone.

You had tried to reassure her that you would be fine, you even approached your most likely allies.

“Fred, George please tell her I’ll be fine. You understand right?” They only chuckled at your cute pout and brushed your concerns aside.

So no. No one was willing to risk the parting of their lovely Y/N.

You were too kindhearted, too sweet, too pure. A ray of sunshine in these dark times, too precious to leave unprotected.

You had been so angry at first, but your anger was soon turned into bashfulness as you were met by two very attractive men. Of course you knew Professor Lupin, he was your teacher and even now words from his mouth directed your way made heat rise to your face.

Then there was Sirius Black. His long black hair framed his face perfectly. His stormy grey eyes made you completely weak at the knees.

Everything about these two men left you flustered, Remus’s quick wit, Sirius’s hearty laugh, the knowing glances they’d share, Remus’s scars you just wanted to spend hours tracing, and Sirius’s ring clad fingers that tapped impatiently against the table. For being in Azkaban for 12 years his hands sure looked strong and capable.

It was a blessing and a curse really. You got to admire two very attractive men, yet you couldn’t manage much more than bashful nods at times. That didn’t stop them from approaching you however. They were so kind and welcoming, so much so that you took up Sirius’s offer to stay there rather than at the Weasleys. He knew you valued your alone time and got anxious in large groups so he thought you’d appreciate your own room rather than crowding in with the Weasleys. It was all good and well.

Except for how often you found yourself rubbing your thighs together at night to ease some sort of tension. Nothing could stop the wetness that pooled in your underwear at the memory of Sirius clenching his jaw in anger as Snape talked, or the way Remus calmed him down by rubbing his hand up and down his thigh. So once again that night you found yourself with that familiar ache you just didn’t know how to satisfy on your own. Your fingers just weren’t good enough. You got up in a huff to get some water at an attempt to calm down. You slipped down the hallway silently, but the sound of a low moan coming from Sirius’s room stopped you in your tracks. The door was slightly ajar and although you knew you shouldn’t peek in, the dull throbbing of your clit convinced you to stay. You had to stifle your own moan at the sight in front of you.

Sirius was sitting on the edge of his four poster king sized bed while Remus was on his knees between his legs jacking him off.

“Fuck Pads, how was it already this hard I’ve hardly touched you.”

“It’s not my fault! Blame Y/N with those stupid lips she bites. And her big doe eyes and and- fuck Moony that feels so good.”

Remus grinned at the chance to tease Sirius.

“Not as good as Y/N would feel though right? Bet you’d love to have her little hands wrapped around your cock huh. Imagine if you got to stretch out her perfect little pussy. She’s so fucking innocent, so pure”

“I wanna ruin her god she’s pretty, but at the same time she’s so precious I don’t wanna taint her. She deserves something more gentle and sweet.”

“You’re certainly smitten aren’t you?”

“Don’t act like you don’t wanna fuck her to the brink of tears. Have you heard that cute little giggle? Imagine what her whines sound like. I just wanna watch as you wrap your big hands round her thro-”

“S’that what you want? You wanna make innocent little Y/N our cockslut. Wanna make her our needy puppy. Wonder how many times we could make her come with just our fingers.”

“Fuck Remus I’m gonna cum.”

“Yeah that’s right love, cum to the picture of fucking her mercilessly, her nails scratching down your back cause you’re fucking her so hard.”

You watched Sirius shudder while Remus’s face lit up in victory. You decided it was best to leave before they were no longer distracted.

Well, that certainly didn’t make you any less riled up. Looks like they wanted you as much as you wanted them. You knew you’d have to put your shyness aside, but how on earth do you talk to someone about that. Yes, hello I find you two super hot and I’d just love it if you’d degrade me and throw me around thank you so much. Frankly you never knew you wanted that yourself until you heard the words fall from their lips with ease. You put your plan in motion as you traveled back to your room, praying it would work.

---

You were giddy when you woke up, anxious for the day that awaited you. You decided to wear a shirt that Remus had once complimented, suddenly much more aware of how it complimented your chest. You paired it with your shortest skirt and thigh high socks. You turned around and shoulder checked to appreciate yourself, knowing if you bent over too much anyone could see the white lace thong you had underneath.

You knew the order meeting was starting earlier than usual so you pranced down the stairs and were met with a dumbstruck Ron and Ginny.

“Blimey Y/N, who are you trying to shag?” He was instantly met with a slap by Ginny.

“Shut it Ron, don’t talk about Y/N like that you git. You look adorable.” She reassured.

You smiled sweetly at her and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks Gin, I’m gonna go get breakfast now.”

You swear you saw Remus and Sirius give a double take when you entered the kitchen. Pleased your plan was going well you continued into the next phase and sat between Fred and George casually as if your heart wasn’t racing a million miles an hour. Any laugh that the twins could pull from your lips were met with a hard stare from Sirius and Remus. Normally Remus could keep a calm disposition but you could notice the look of contempt in his eyes as his hand clenched the edge of the table.

You pushed your chair back and made your way to the sink.

“Here Molly, let me help you clean up.”

“Thank you dear, you can just grab the dishes from the table love.”

You made your way round the table and once you reached where your two admirers were you squeezed between them and bent over to grab the last plate, feeling your skirt ride up high enough to gain a sharp intake of breath from Sirius.

“Sorry, it was just easier to get it this way.”

You smiled to yourself as you helped Molly finish cleaning. Everything cycled out and everyone rearranged where they sat as they tidied up before the meeting began. You were thrilled at the chance to sit between Remus and Sirius now that everyone had moved. You leaned forward so you could rest your chin on your hand as Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke of the newest updates happening within the ministry. Fred and George would sometimes try to throw you off by making funny faces, but they were met by a hard glare by Remus which instantly simmered them down, while Sirius placed his arm around the back of your chair in a possessive manner. Welp, now was as good a time as ever to test the waters. You leaned back into your chair and crossed one leg over the other so your foot would brush against Sirius’s calf. He passed a glance, and you took a deep breath and moved it up and down his leg. You smirked at how you saw his hands clench and that spurred you on to lightly place your hand on Remus’s thigh.

“Y/N love, what are you doing exactly” Remus’s voice was shaky, like he was holding back.

Time to ice the cake.

“Nothing Remmy, I’m just being innocent little Y/N.”

Sirius’s head swerved at that one and you couldn’t help but notice the growing tent in his trousers.

---

It took forever for everyone to leave after the meeting. It took even longer to convince Molly that you were fine to stay here rather than go back to the burrow.

“Alright Y/N if you’re sure, but you know how to reach me if you need anything at all right?”

“Of course Molly.”

If she knew what you wanted these two men to do to you she would be dragging you by the ear out the door. But finally, finally she left.

Leaving you alone with two straight faced men whose expressions were unreadable. Remus was the first to break the silence.

“Y/N, did you over hear our conversation last night”

You nodded, but Sirius wasn’t having it.

“Nuh uh, you’re gonna answer out loud for us pretty girl. You don’t get to tease us the way you do then act all shy now.”

“Yes, I heard.”

Remus returned to questioning you. “Yeah, and did you like what you heard?”

“I- I did.”

“Didn’t know you were such a naughty girl” Sirius chortled, “wish I would have known sooner.”

“I’m not naughty!”

“Oh yeah what makes you say that?”

“Cause I wanna be your good girl, please make me your good girl.”

Remus was hypnotised by the puppy dog eyes and pouty lips looking up at him.

“Shhh we’ve got you puppy, we just thought you’d want something more gentle.”

“No Remmy, I want you.”

“You can have me darling, let's go upstairs.”

He offered his hand to you and you took it eagerly, and began your journey upstairs, earning a chuckle from Sirius as you snatched his hand too on the way. As soon as you entered they had their hands on you, Sirius had you pressed against Remus as he was kissing your neck.

“You sure you want this love?”

“Please Siri.”

“Alright pup, safe word is red okay? Any point you feel uncomfortable you tell us and we’ll stop immediately. Can you say it for me?”

“Red.”

“Good girl,” Remus praised “Here, let's take all this off since it’s not covering much anyway.”

You nodded and lifted your arms for Remus while Sirius got on his knees to take off your skirt. He debated leaving the socks on, but he wanted you to feel every single thing so he took them off. Now last, but certainly not least.

“As cute as these panties are, they're only in my way, can I take these off precious?”

“M Hmm.”

Remus was quite content to take off your bra and massage your breasts and nibble across your shoulders while Sirius continued his attempts to draw dirty words from your clean mouth.

“Baby, your pussy is so wet right now. Can I touch it, love?”

You spread your legs further for him as an invitation.

“Not here, our precious girl deserves to be comfy on the bed.”

Remus sat against the headboard and motioned for you to follow suit between his thighs.

You practically skipped there, so excited for what was about to happen. You sat down with a quick plop and wiggled your hips to get more comfy, eyes wide as Sirius crawled up from the end of the bed to push your legs apart and gently trace your inner thighs with his forefinger.

“Tell me pup, have you ever touched yourself?”

You nodded bashfully, which Remus did not enjoy apparently as he lightly slapped your thigh with one hand while the other grabbed hold of your jaw to force your eyes onto Sirius fully.

“What did we say about speaking out loud pup, be a good girl.”

“Sorry Remmy, I got embarrassed, I do touch myself Siri”

Sirius grinned, “What makes you touch yourself sweet girl.”

“You, you and Moony do.” He relished in the whine that escaped your lips as he finally made contact with your aching clit, clearly he liked that answer.

“What do you imagine us doing to you pup.”

You moaned as his pace quickened. “Anything, anything you want.”

That’s when his tongue made contact on your clit instead. You jolted at the sudden change, but Remus was quick to hold you down.

“That feel good, sweetheart? I love Siri’s tongue too.”

You could only throw your head back and mewl as Sirius’s tongue flicked faster and he added a finger to the mix, completely enthralled with how your entrance clenched around it desperately.

“Pads I think our pretty girl is gonna cum keep going. Has anyone ever made you feel this good puppy? Fred or George couldn’t make you feel like this could they?”

“No- no Remmy.”

“Wait till I get my turn love, go on and cum so I can make my pretty girl feel good too.”

Even Sirius’s tight grip on your thigh couldn’t keep you tethered as you released on his face. Bliss like you had never known overtook and it’s like you were hyper aware of every touch, every breath of theirs that fanned across your body, and every kiss that Remus awarded you with for being your lovely self.

And you couldn’t get enough of it.

Neither could Sirius as he leaned back to take in the view of the masterpiece he created. He loved how you had squirmed under his touch as he continued to thrust his fingers eagerly.

He was feeling benevolent though and pulled out. Instead he took a firm grasp on your hair and pulled you on your hands and knees so you were eyelevel with his throbbing cock.

Remus placed a couple of smacks on your ass now that it was exposed for him.

“What do you say to Pads for making you feel so good?”

Sirius wondered if you were aware how cute you looked with your owlish eyes oggling his long member.

“Thank you, Siri.”

“That’s right Puppy, now how about you return the favor.”

You just nodded obediently and stuck out your tongue, which only made Sirius growl even louder as he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried your best to relax your throat but found yourself gagging at the surprise feeling of Remus’s head rubbing up and down your slick folds.

You arched your back and whimpered around Sirius’s cock and Remus got the message loud and clear. Slowly he inched his way inside groaning when your wet heat enveloped him completely. Once you were used to the feeling you wiggled your hips as a signal so he could move. The slow powerful thrusts of Remus made Sirius thrust through your perfect lips even faster at how the vibrations you emitted felt around his cock. His grip on your hair got even tighter.

“Fuck you feel so good puppy, such a good girl taking such good care of us. I’m gonna cum all over that pretty face, want me to cum all over your face, sweet girl?”

At the sound of your desperate whining he gave your face a few rough pats and yanked your head back. He couldn’t take his eyes off you as you stuck your tongue out waiting patiently while he stroked his dick furiously. Finally he released on your face, but before you got the chance to think he was licking it up with wide stripes across your face before moving to kiss Remus. You glanced over your shoulder at the two most beautiful men you’d ever been blessed to see, and moaned as their teeth clashed in a hungry and needy kiss. They stopped in a pant and had their foreheads pressed together, grinning at your demands.

“Moony I think our good little puppy wants more attention.”

“Aw, is that so my needy angel. I can fix that for you.”

Quicker than you could count he had you flipped on your back and started fucking into you ruthlessly. His movements were filled with so much determination that every thrust was pushing you to the end of the bed until your back was hanging off the edge. He grabbed hold of your legs and swung them both over your shoulders so he could reach even newer sensitive spots inside you, completely captivated by how freely your tits bounced in this position.

“Rem- Remus I’m gonna cum.”

“No you’re not, you be our good girl and hold on a little longer.”

“Please I can’t take it.”

“If you wanna cum you beg for it then, since you can’t wait.”

“Please please, let me be your good girl, please let me cum you make me feel so good please.”

“Hear that Pads? Imagine if someone heard pure little Y/N acting as our desperate puppy. Okay darling you go ahead and make a mess on my cock baby.”

A wave of euphoria rushed over you as you hung there and took every slam that came your way. The bliss however quickly became too much as your legs wriggled to find your escape from his strong grasp. He just grunted and let you slide into a heap on the floor. He swept to the side of the bed and around to where you were and hoisted you back on the bed so you were on your stomach and your legs hung off the edge. He pressed his hand to your back to firmly hold you in place.

“Angel you begged for this, now you’re gonna take it, yeah?”

He returned to his prior animalistic pace that summoned tears to roll down your cheeks.

Sirius started petting your head lovingly “It’s okay love, you’re being such a good girl for Moony and I. You look so gorgeous with those tears all fucked out.”

He continued to comfort you and press kisses to your hairline until finally Remus reached satisfaction with his brutal attack on your tight hole.

“Fuck, Y/N I’m gonna cum”

He pulled out swiftly and his hips found their way to Sirius’s hungry lips. It was such a beautiful sight, but your voice made and audible whine before you could control yourself.

“What’s wrong sweetheart, thought you wanted me to stop.”

“Wanted your cum, wanted you to cum in me Remmy.”

“We’ve got plenty of time to make that happen precious girl.”

---

Hmmm yeah I’m not sure how I feel about this one, but I hope y’all enjoy my lovelies <3

@thotbutpurple @quindolyn @sunny-bunnny

#harry potter smut #smut #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirus black smut #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #marauders #wolfstar #poly wolfstar #wolfstar smut #poly smut #wolfstar x reader

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luimagines · 3 years ago

Note

This is my third time sending this ask because tumblr keeps saying it didn't go through- so if you've seen this already just ignore it but could you do a short headcanon list on how they would react if you held their hand- could be platonic or romantic whichever is easier to write

Masterlist

Sorry that Tumblr kept eating your asks. But this was first time I saw it so I'm glad you didn't give up.

Handholding headcanons!

I think I'll do a bit of both platonic and romantic just because I can.

Content under the cut!

Time

Platonic

It you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d be startled at first and almost pull his hand back on instinct.

He sees you and then he calms down even if he’s more confused than before.

He doesn’t know what the next course of action is and he doesn’t want to cause a scene or hurt your feelings by asking you to let him go.

He will ask you to let go eventually though

So it’s best to make it short and sweet at first and probably get to point of catching his attention since you certainly have it now.

But if you happen to make a habit of just taking his hand out of the blue then he lets you hold on to him for as long as you need.

He grows resigned to it and just lets you get it out of your system until you move on to the next team member.

He does feel a little better in the idea that you trust him by the end of the day though.

Even if he’s not sure why you like hold his hand in particular, he doesn’t want to put any strain on your relationship especially since he’s let it go on for as long as he has.

Besides, the adventure won’t last forever, he tells himself, it’s not doing any harm either.

He takes on an father figure/ older brother approach when you hold his hand by now and just uses it to keep you in line with the boys or out of their natural crosshairs of chaos.

Romantic

If you were to hold his hand out of the blue, he wouldn’t hesitate to hold yours back, even giving a little squeeze to reassure himself of your presence.

He likes to hold your hand and walk by your side as quiet way to show you his affection both in private and in public.

He’s a man of little words but he never wants you to doubt his devotion to you.

He doesn’t outwardly react when you grab him.

But his heart never fails to swell in general contentment when you show, even in the little things that you want to be by his side.

After a few minutes of initial contact, he’d grin a little to himself and begin to swing your hands back and forth in time with your steps.

If the boys try to say anything then he’s quick to silence them with his a simple glance over his shoulder at them.

Not that he had to be angry or anything but the boys don’t want to potentially push him that far with their teasing...

The whole... poke the bear and run the hills when it moves sort of thing.... It’s a giant game of chicken that they lose every time.

He’d hold your hand forever if you’d let him, even if he knows he can’t feasibly do so and keep his image of stoic leader of the Heroes of Courage at the same time.

It helps ground him.

Wind

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d hold your back no problem.

It’s something his sister does a lot back home so it’s nice for him to have little reminder even if your hands are nothing like hers.

He’d take it in stride and swing them back and forth with no hesitation at all.

As long as it’s clear to him that you’re holding him out of want to be friendly, he takes turns with you throughout the journey for who grabs whos hand first.

If he at all gets the impression however, that it’s because the youngest and it’s to keep him close, he would yank his hands away from yours and stomp away from you with a few harsh words on his tongue about how he doesn’t need to be babied.

It depends on your status and previous encounters with him for this and how he thinks you view him.

Even if the negative encounter happens and he see later on that it wasn’t to hold him back, he’d grab your hand instead.

A silent memo that he’s ok with it and he’s sorry for pushing you away the first time.

He’s more inclined to grab onto a persons arm if he’s familiar with them instead of grabbing their hand but since you’ve grabbed onto his hand first, he’s willing to meet you where you stand for quiet affection.

But he likes the idea of holding hands as he travels, mostly because it reminds him that’s not alone on this adventure.

And if it helps him think that he’s got nothing to prove to the others when he allows himself a small comfort, that’s for him to know.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d instantly start blushing.

Full on- tomato red, all the way to the tips of his ears and down to his neck.

He gets shy and quiet and laces his finger with yours but he has a trouble making eye contact.

Part of him wants to push you away because he immediately gets teased by the other boys but depending on your reaction- he either sticks his tongue out and squeezes your hand tighter or just starts swearing like the sailor he is for embarrassing you.

Because so help him, if they make you feel uncomfortable enough to let go of him first, then he’s going to prank all of them until they leave you alone.

He’s very quick to push aside his own discomfort at their words and instead fight for your honor.

Because it was clearly something you wanted to do but the others would have shot you down and made you feel self conscious and doubtful

And that won’t stand.

He thinks it’s one of the sweet things anyone would want from him.

A lot of Wind is loud and expressive and eye catching, so something small and quiet and mostly hidden catches him off guard.

It send his heart into a spiral and even when you’re not holding onto him, he can sometimes still feel your phantom touch.

He tries to compare the emotions of the thrill of holding his sword versus the thrill of holding your hand.

And... he begins to think that what he once thought was irreplaceable, can very quickly be put on the back burner if you’re willing to stay by his side.

Twilight

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d be startled at first and probably ask you out loud what you thought you were doing, but he’d be more amused about it- than say- Time or Legend.

He’d raise his eyebrow and let you hold onto him for a moment without grabbing you back as you explain yourself.

If you say you just felt like it then he’d just let you hold onto him without putting up much of a fight

All the kids from his village would more or less hang off of him so he’s pretty used to it. (Wind does it too so he’s accepted his fate)

If he gets the impression that you’re afraid or uncomfortable and that’s why you’ve reach out to him- then he’ll hold your hand back.

He’s has a strong grip and it’s warm and comforting with seasoned, robust calluses from years of farm work.

He’s not the kind of person to let go first in this situation and while gladly hold your hand to ground you and make sure you feel better about the situation no matter what is happening.

It’s his older brother instinct.

He won’t exactly be the most comfortable with it (he’d probably feel better if you let him wrap his arm around your shoulders instead) but he’d do it.

Mostly because he doesn’t like the reminiscent feeling of something latched onto his hand and/or wrist.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, this boy would get the giddiest and most boyish smile just smack dab on the middle of his face.

He doesn’t hesitate to hold your hand back even if that little phantom feeling returns.

The fact that you’re so quick to lace your fingers together helps change the way the little phantom feeling appears.

It changes from cold, unforgiving steel to warm gentle and caring fingers.

He tries to memorize how your hand feels in his whenever he has to chance.

He’d periodically squeeze your hand as you walk together or even if you’re just chilling and holding each other.

He likes to remind himself that you’re there and that you’re real.

He’s not the kind to talk about his partner excessively in public or be fond of PDA but he’ll hold your hand- keep you close- let the world know that you’re taken- and with him.

Admittedly, it’s a little possessive but if he were to be confronted about it (not that he gives off that vibe, it’s just the thoughts in his head) he’d blame the wolfish need to protect and claim the mate.

This poor boy is too self conscious and raised with country charm and manners to do anything else while in public.

Wild

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand of the blue then he’ll send a confident grin, take his hand out of yours and wrap his arm around your shoulders instead.

He’s a bit touchy with his personal space even if he has no problem invading your own.

You’d probably get a better reaction if you asked him first.

But if you’re closer friends with him, he’d actually be the one to grab to you

So it’s less likely that you’d be the one grabbing his hand and instead he’d be the one to drag along to whatever he plans on doing next.

Instead of grabbing his hand, it would be easier to get away with grabbing his arm or wrapping it with your own.

Or wrapping your own arm around his shoulders.

But grabbing his hand is a level of intimacy that he’s a little afraid to give to others.

Not to mention that he’s done a lot of fighting and still needs to fight at any moments notice, so he’s going to need his hands free.

He does appreciate it though, it’ll just a while (and more people than just you) for him to get used to it again.

Romantic

If you grabbed his hand out of the blue, you’re never getting it back.

Although he’s not all too comfortable with hand holding, you’re the exception and he doesn’t plan on letting you go any time soon.

He’d seek out your hand almost the entire time you’re together, just to hold onto you.

It helps ground him, lets him know that you’re there to support him whenever he might need it.

If he gets sucked into a memory, he likes to come back with your hand in his.

It doesn’t happen all that often because it’s not something he’s told you but he always hopes you’re nearby.

One the occasion that you reach for his hand first, he’d still for a moment before relaxing completely, lacing your fingers together out of habit and smiling contently as you walk.

Wild is the kind of person that would hold your hand in his sleep, or while you sleep and is genuinely intrigued by the intricacy of your fingers.

He’d play with your hands constantly.

He finds it calming and relaxing.

Sky

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he grin and hold it back with a small swing between you two before returning his attention to where it was before.

Hand holding is natural up on Skyloft so it’s not worth paying much attention to between friends.

It’s a simple form of affection that is shared by all people so Sky is glad that you consider him a close enough friend to hold his hand.

He doesn’t pay much attention to it actually.

It’s a familiar feeling that reminds him of companionship and it helps stabilize the subconscious feeling of uncertainty.

If you do it first, it give Sky to ok to search out your hand when ever he feel like.

You’d typically be holding hands whenever you’re paired off together.

It may lead to a conversation between some other people (either in the group) or some town you’d be visiting about how you’re just friends

After the indicial conversation about how’s there nothing between you two, by some well meaning (or judgmental) individual, Sky will be a little more self aware about it.

But if you don’t mind it, then Sky won’t worry about it too much.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d get a bit red in the face and a little shy but he’d be the guy to pull your hand up and place a quick to your knuckles before any one notices.

Sky is so happy to be with you that holding your hand is a constant occurrence.

It’ll almost be as if you two are connected at the hip instead of your hands.

Because of this, no one questions who either of you would be paired off with when the group needs to split up.

Occasionally Sky or you will choose a different partner for the day or for the necessary occasion.

But it’s typically you two against the world.

Sky is very fond of hand kisses so expect a lot of those when you’re next to him.

He’s also inclined to play with your hands in whatever down time you may have.

When you grab Sky’s hand, he always pulls you a little closer to him.

He gets a little conflicted about holding your hand and wanting to hug you flush against himself but he really enjoys having you close

Warrior

Platonic

If you were grab his hand out of the blue, he’d stall and look at you and seeing that it’s just you, would smile back simple let it happen.

It’s not going to be a big deal to him if it’s you or any one else of the chain.

(Mask and Wind may have gotten him used to being clung to during the War- it’s the care taker in him)

He won’t mention it if you won’t.

There’s no reason to make it weird and sometimes people just need to be held.

That being said, he prefer it if you asked first- but he’s not going to make a fuss about it if you don’t... just common curtesy, you know?

He might actually forget that you’re holding hands for a time until you either let go or he need his hand back and has to take it away.

As long as there’s no immediate treats nearby, he’d hold you hand for as long as you need.

He might actually offer it to you if he sees that’s you’re afraid or upset during travel or spooky dungeon crawls.

One of the more chill people to hold hands with, seeing as he’s more or less been conditioned as an older brother to the point where he’s gotten used to it no matter the circumstance

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he would instantly lace your fingers together and would be grinning like a fool for the next hour or so.

He’s a bit hesitant with anything grandiose as romantic gestures (for reasons having to do with a crazy dark sorceress-) so something small and subtle just hits him right in his heart.

He’s going to want to be by your side all the time, hand holding or otherwise just so you’re with his line of sight.

Warrior won’t typically be the one to reach for your hand first

He’s shy and doesn’t want to over step any boundaries you may have by invading your personal space (kinda the opposite to Wild in this regard)

That being said, this is mostly when you’re both in public or among friends.

In private he’s a little less self conscious about how others might perceive him.

He definitely reach for you while he sleeps though so try to stay on the same side every night or he might just grab someone else from the group.

Instead of kissing your knuckles this guy is the kind of person to kiss your palm or the inside of your wrist if he’s feeling a little more bold than usual.

For all his bravado, Warrior is very self conscious about his actions and appearance because all eyes are typically on him- so you holding his hand without expecting anything else hits the bulls eye.

Hyrule

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, he’d laugh and squeeze your hand a little bit before happily swinging it back and forth.

He won’t think much of it.

He’d also have no problems grabbing your own hand from time to time even if you don’t reach out to him first.

He’d grab your hand to drag you on whatever side adventure he feels like going on.

He’d hold your hand to keep you close when you’re alone in a dungeon together.

He’d hold you hand when he’s freaked out or when you’re freaked out.

He just likes holding the people he cares about close, whether it’s you or any member of the chain.

Like Sky, he doesn’t see an issue with it and has little to no issues with his personal space- it’s a pretty small bubble actually.

Hands are a special sort of connection for Hyrule because it’s where a lot of his magic flows out of.

Since it’s a pivotal point of his perception of the world around him, he takes comfort in being able to read others by his touch alone and how they might be feeling at the time.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, Hyrule might not even notice it in the beginning.

He’d typically be holding onto you one way or another, and there’s always something going on right by his finger tips.

But by the time he notices that you’re holding hands, he’d smile and bashfully look at them for a minute or two before returning his attention to where it was prior.

It makes him happy in a fluttery sense that he can only compare to the moments when he takes flight in his fairy form.

He finds it warm and it flows all through his arm and chest and body- to where it feels like he’s been completely encompassed by a sense of safety and acceptance.

He would eventually find himself seeking your hand and your presence even if you’re no longer net to him for whatever reason.

He just begins to reach out next to him subconsciously expecting you to be there only for his heart to come crashing down when you’re not there.

Even if you’re not holding hands, he wants to have some connection to you.

An arm around your shoulders, around your waist, a hand playing with your hair, with the fringes of your clothes...

He might just hold onto the straps of your bags when you’re wearing them if you don’t want to hold his hand.

Hyrule doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable with his constant presence- but he’s clingy.

Four

Platonic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, Four would naturally be startled enough to ask what’s up.

If you say that you just wanted to hold his hand, he’d be little confused as to why did you choose him but he’s not going to make a scene over something as simple as hand holding.

Even if there’s a day where he doesn’t want it.

Red does the same thing all the time when they’re split so you’ve got someone in your corner supporting you when it comes to spontaneous hand holding.

And the minish have never been shy about handholding anyway so they tend to grab and drag him around all the time as well.

It may not be the way he’d show his friendship but he supposes everyone is different and he likes being your friend.

It’s not a strict boundary that you’re crossing while you do this, so he lets it slide.

Like Legend, the more you do it though, the more he grows comfortable with it and grows to anticipate it and even prefer it when it comes to you.

He likes holding your hand as you travel when it gets to that point and he begins to search for your hand almost as much as you’d search for his.

It’s a quiet form of acceptance that Four appreciates from you and your friendship.

It’s not much but Four is the kind of person to enjoy the little things and he finds it to be a simple thing his overloaded brain can focus on on the louder days.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, this dude will be so happy. I’m talking instant pep in his step- borderline skipping down the trail you’re on.

He’s more likely to play with your hands than you are to play with his when you’re not traveling for the day.

His hands are covered with calluses and miniscule scars so he’s captivated by the lack of such on your own.

Four, like many others of the chain, tends to seek your hand out even when he’s asleep.

He’d rather hold your hand than put his arm around your waist.

He’d also be the kind of guy that fidgets a lot- so if you’re holding hands be aware that he’s going to squeeze your hand a lot, brush over your knuckles, your wrist and your palm

He’d give your fingers individual attention, pulling gently on your skin, bending them, gently twisting and watching them move

Four’s favorite time to hold your hand however is when it’s late at night, and everyone is quiet and on the cusp of sleep and maybe you’re asleep too, but it’s then when he’d play with your hand and gently brush his fingertips across your skin as he drifts off to sleep as well.

He’s very hands on

It’s very quiet and sweet, he loves it.

Legend

Platonic

If were to grab his hand out of the blue, he would definitely rip it out of your hold out of sheer awkwardness.

Especially near the beginning when you first join the group.

It would take you a few tries to get it to stick where he gives up on it.

Later on, once he’s grown used to it, he just lets you do what you want.

Whether that be play with his hand, just hold it or swing it around.

As long as you don’t try to play with or take off his rings he’s fine.

He’s pretty tolerant of it afterwards but it can easily blamed on the notion tat he’s come to expect it from you and know that you wouldn’t have given up otherwise.

It’s almost like a kill them with kindness scenario but with personal space and simple affectionate gestures instead.

It helps when Hyrule catches wind of your spontaneous hand holding and joins the cause.

So Legend has his hands full most of the time when you travel.

Literally.

It’s a good thing he has to two of them.

Romantic

If you were to grab his hand out of the blue, then he’d be a shy and stuttering mess for the entire time and even up to an hour after you’ve stopped holding onto him.

He’s a softly on the inside and he can’t help it.

But he also isn’t use to simple affection- especially since he’s on his own more often than not.

He wants to keep a loner attitude and how he doesn’t need anyone next to him. It’s why he’d shrug you off if you weren’t as close as you are.

But hand holding is a universal simple sign of ‘Hey, I want you next to me, I want to be next to you. And he doesn’t know how to properly articulate a response, let alone how to manage the emotions that come with it.

So he goes all red and blushy from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest but he holds your hand back with a soft smile and squeezes you gently.

It’s a shame he can’t quite look you in the eyes as it happens.

He gets really shy.

He’s under the impression that he shouldn’t quite enjoy it as much as he wants to... not if he’ll eventually lose it. Because he loses everything. And he’s not sure if he’s willing to suffer through the heart break afterwards even if it feel all soft and warm to hold you now.

It’s up to you to prove him otherwise and with enough time and patience, he’ll come around to accepting simple affection from more than just the friends around him.

He’ll fully allow himself to be encompassed by your relationship and what it means to love someone with his whole mind, body, heart and soul.

#linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #the lists are a bit short #but I'm hoping that the fact that I did platonic and romantic in one go would kind of negate their length #also for including al the boys in one go #this one was actually a little harder than i thought it was going to be #for some of them anyway #linked universe

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dameronology · 3 years ago

Text

rescuer {din djarin}

summary: din djarin rescued you - and then you rescued him {for @drinksomecoco !! i hope u enjoy}

warnings: brief mentions of torture, swearing

this is like....4k words?? it got a little out of hand, i won't lie to u.

- jazz xx

It wasn’t often that The Mandalorian found himself becoming attached to bounties.

Twice. He’d done it twice.

The first time, he swore to himself that it would be the last. Adopting his little green surrogate...frog? Son?

Okay, adopting his little green surrogate Grogu had brought enough tension into his life. It had gotten him back onto the radars of both the Empire and the New Republic; thrown him into some weird form of fatherhood that he wasn’t quite ready for and tipped his entire way of life upside down. Despite all that, he never stopped to question if all the exhaustion was more trouble than it was worth, because he loved his kid. Completely and entirely in ways that no parenting book or fairytale could ever quite describe. It was an intense form of love and attachment - and Din knew it was going to hurt when he would eventually have to return the Child to his own people. That was a little far off though, because he couldn’t investigate any further til he had the means to do so. Money and resources weren’t limitless and even The Mandalorian had to find means to an end.

Going back to the Bounty Hunter’s Guild wasn’t ideal, especially not with the kid in tow - but did he have any other way? Din didn’t know any other way of life, let alone another way of earning money. Besides, he figured it would only be a quick few months. A couple jobs here and there until he had enough in savings to travel far enough to find where Grogu really came from.

But it was two bounties; two bounties that he would find himself becoming attached to. Grogu was the only one.

It was through that decision to return to the Guild that Din Djarin would find himself stumbling across the next one. He was offered five pucks - the first four were easy. Standard jobs, really. Runaway criminals and Imps who had crossed people so many times that trying to work out their loyalty was head-ache inducing. He found them all in a matter of days, really. They were good at hiding but it didn’t count for much when The Mandalorian was good at finding.

Then there was you; the fifth puck. The one he thought was going to be the easiest.

Finding you wasn’t a problem. Tucked away in a corner of rural Tatooine - maybe twenty, twenty five minutes shy of Mos Eisley - you were hiding in plain sight. It would have been enough to protect you from anyone else but Din was an unrelenting expert in finding those who didn’t want to be found.

He never quite knew what to expect when he closed in on a bounty. Sometimes they ran and sometimes they hid. A few of them had tried to appeal to his humanity; to try and connect with the man they hoped was behind the mask. Because aside from the husky voice that occasionally escaped the helmet, there was no proof that The Mandalorian was anything other than a very convincing droid. That was, until, someone would lay a hand on his son or ship and suddenly, a wave of pure human rage would burst out from beneath the beskar.

You couldn’t have hidden from him or run away, even if you wanted to. Not because you were scared, but because you were chained up; wrists and ankles in shackles, keeping you tied to the walls of a filthy docking bay. From the sand piled around your feet, it was clear that you had tried to kick up a fuss at some point.

But based on the way that you looked at him - with tired eyes and a hopeless expression - that made Din realise: you’d lost the will to fight. He knew that you weren’t going to wriggle away or try to engage in combat.

“Are you…” The Mandalorian trailed off. “Are you alone?”

“Probably,” your eyes flicked up from the ground, unknowingly capturing his gaze. “I think I’ve been left for dead.”

He sighed. “I’m looking for a...Kan Durant. Is he here?”

“No,” you shot back. “He left me here for dead about a week ago. Probably knew that a bounty hunter was going to come after him at some point.”

“Do you know where he went?”

“I’m chained up,” you said. “Isn’t the answer to your question a little axiomatic?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “But if you know anything, it might be helpful.”

“Try Corellia,” you muttered.

Corellia. That was...doable. Not too far and not too hard to search. That would be his fifth and final puck and then Din could set off for the sunset in search of his kid’s home planet. That’s what this whole thing had been about.

But...you. You’d been left for dead - and based on the bruises around your eyes and on your limbs, that was the least of what you’d gone through recently. What kind of man would it make him if he left you? A fucking awful one, obviously, but what was he supposed to do?

Din slowly leant down, pulling a thin tool from his belt. He fiddled around with your cuffs for a moment, until there was a low hiss. They fell from your hands and onto the sandy ground - he expected you to get up, or to run, or do anything but sit there and stare at him with gaunt eyes. Maybe it was foolish of him to think that merely freeing you of your restraints was doing his part for the greater good.

“Is there anywhere around here where you can go?” he asked. “An inn? A cantina?”

You snorted. “No. I’ll die.”

“You can get food and medicine out there.”

“Mos Eisley is swarming with Durant’s men,” you explained. “The minute I step foot in any town or port here, they’ll know.”

Maybe being with Grogu had softened him, or maybe The Mandalorian genuinely couldn’t find it himself to leave you. But, he found himself doing the unthinkable: sticking his hand out to you, lifting you up, and leading you out of the docking bay and back towards his ship. He didn’t know what he was going to do or how he was going to do it but really, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. His main focus had been on keeping you alive until you were within the safety of the Crest.

You stumbled slightly when he put you down, tripping and falling towards the control panel to shut the loading bay doors. At least you were intuitive.

With that, you fell back to the ground. It was becoming clearer and clearer that you were in a bit of a state - how long did you say it had been? A week since Durant had left - so that was at least seven days without proper food or water. It was a miracle you were alive. Din had got there just in time.

“Why are you helping me?” you asked. “What do you want?”

He glanced over in your direction. “I don’t want anything.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” you shot back.

“I wasn’t going to leave you there,” Din replied. He paused for a moment, before turning to face you. “I’ve heard Durant’s name before. I know what he does to people.”

“Aren’t you more worried about finding him and getting the bounty?” you pushed.

Truth be told, Din wasn’t that bothered. He had enough money from the last four pucks to get him where he needed to be. The fifth had just been a little extra, so he had an easier time letting go of it. He certainly wasn’t the only hunter going after Durant’s ass and worst case scenario, Karga would give him a little bit of shit for not completing the job. All of that was a lot more manageable than living with the guilt of leaving you in the dark to die.

“Someone else will get him. I’m sure.” Din muttered. He reached for a ration pack stored away on a shelf and tossed it in your direction. “You should eat this. I’ll get us in the air and find some bacta-”

“- you really don’t need to,” you cut him off.

“Eat,” he pushed again. “You’re weak. You’ll need it.”

Over the next few days, you would come to find that forceful-but-caring demands were The Mandalorian’s main language.

He didn’t talk much - or at all really. He didn’t need to, not when you kept to yourself on the lower deck of the ship whilst he dealt with everything else. He didn’t seem to mind that you weren’t helping; after all, you’d been in a weak state when Din had found you and standing up had been hard, let alone maneuvering around the flying hunk of metal. You were beginning to feel a little more spry, thanks to the food, water and bactaspray. The combination was hardly an elixir of life but you’d found yourself feeling a little more human.

Sleep was the hard one. A combination of confusion - at the situation, at Din, at where you were going - and nightmares made it hard. Every time you closed your eyes, you found yourself hurtling back in time to when Durant had first captured you. You’d been a test dummy for all his weapons and experiments and really, you were just lucky to be alive and in one piece. It didn’t count for much though, not when you couldn’t get a single fucking second of shut eye.

You would have been a fool to think that Din hadn’t picked up on it.

He was observational by nature and even more so by craft. A man who was constantly looking over his shoulder and straight ahead; a warrior who had been raised to keep a weapon by his side at all times. Of course he was going to notice your insomnia, and the way your eyes seemed even more sunken and dull than when he’d first found you.

You were sitting in the hull when he approached you. Not a lot had been said, other than the occasional eat this or put this on your bruises. Again - all a little forceful, but with a sense of genuinity behind the words. You still had a hard time believing that he was legitimately just a man who wanted to help you.

“I find that noise helps.”

You glanced up at him. “I’m sorry?”

He cleared his throat. “When I can’t sleep, and when I have nightmares, I find that being in a room with white noise helps distract my brain.”

“Oh, right,” you gave him a small nod. “I s’pose it is pretty quiet down here.”

“It’s noisier up there in the cockpit,” he replied. “We’re going to be in hyperspace for a while so if you want to get some sleep, I’ll stay down here.”

“Thank you.”

For the first time in days, you finally showed a glimmer of emotion. It was just a smile - and one he figured was a forced one - but still, it was a good sign.

Din’s eyes followed you as you stood up, heading for the ladder up to the cockpit. You stopped in front of it for a moment, palms wrapping around one of the rungs. At first, he thought you were just pondering, or taking a moment to rethink your actions, but then a light bulb went off in his head. You were too weak.

Moving slowly, The Mandalorian positioned himself behind you.

“Is it okay if I put them here?” he quietly asked, large, gloved hands hovering over the side of your hips.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied. “Thank you.”

With Din’s support, you were able to grab onto the hatch above and pull yourself up, boots hitting the ground of the cockpit. He followed you up, guiding you over to one of the pilot’s chairs. The lights of hyperspace were flashing by, illuminating the entire room in a white-gold glow. It felt odd to be up here after so many days of confining yourself just to the hull - forbidden, even with the invite from The Mandalorian himself.

“How did you know that I get nightmares?” you asked, turning around to face him.

The helmet tilted slightly. “I get them too.”

“I’m sorry,” you softly sighed. “Thank you again for your help.”

“It’s okay,” Din brushed it off as though it were nothing. “We have about four hours til our next stop. I’ll wake you up before we get there.”

“Is that where I get off?” you asked.

“No,” he firmly replied. “It’s not safe there either.”

You had more questions that you wanted to ask - now more than ever that he was finally talking - but you were far too exhausted to even try. Once you’d fallen back against the chair and been handed a blanket out of nowhere, the noise of the surrounding machines practically dragged you out of consciousness.

---

One question you had wanted to ask Din had been about the duration of your stay.

How long were you supposed to stay on board? How long did he want you there?

You were almost scared to ask, for fear of the answer. After all, you barely knew him. He could get up at any moment and demand that you left, and you wouldn’t have been able to argue. All of this - this looking after you, this roof over your head, this care - felt too good to be true. Like it was all part of some elaborate ruse.

But it was funny, because you were even more scared that it wasn’t. If Din - or The Mandalorian, as you knew him - was truly just a nice person with pure intentions, then that was about to be dangerous territory for you. The minute that you started trusting him, and the minute you started to see him as someone who could protect you, would spell trouble. You had never intended to become attached, but it was only natural. You hadn’t had a single person look out for you - not once in your life.

Every time he made you food, or helped you up into the cockpit, you felt yourself slipping that way. A six-foot pile of beskar should not have been a sign of comfort, but the helmet came to symbolise...something. You didn’t know what. Attachment, maybe? A little inkling of affection for whoever the hell was below those inches of steel?

A few weeks passed and the tension slowly began to falter. It was probably the proximity more than anything, but the time proved to you more than anything that Din was genuine. He was helping you because he wanted to - there was no personal gain for him, nor monetary. He actually, honestly just wanted to do good.

And doing good, he was. Whilst he still kept his distance, he looked after you. He made sure that you ate enough to recover from your periods of deprivation and once a day, he would clear out of the cockpit for you to get some rest. He still helped you up the ladder every time -and even when you told him you were strong enough, he still stood back and watched just to make sure.

Because, truthfully, The Mandalorian was beginning to see something in you. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what, but he was intrigued by the way you were slowly beginning to show him parts of yourself. Where your eyes had once been gaunt and lifeless, they now had a spark in them. You were quiet when you’d met, but now you spoke to the kid and you hummed to yourself. It was like the life that was sucked out of you was slowly being breathed back in, day by day and bit by bit.

“Do you wanna get some sleep?” Din asked you one day.

“Yeah, sure,” you glanced up at the Child, giving him a small smile. “When did you last sleep, Mando?”

Another helmet tilt. “I get enough sleep.”

“I don’t believe you,” you thinned your eyes at him.

The Mandalorian sighed slightly - normally, that would have been a sign to literally anyone else to drop it. But with you? Nope. You saw that as a sign of progress; that the little, tiny display of emotion meant you were beginning to chip past those godforsaken layers of beskar.

“I get nightmares about Durant,” you continued. “Every time I panic and wake up in a cold sweat, I remind myself that I’m safe, because I know that you and the kid are here.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “You can tell me anything and I promise I won’t judge you. You’ve never judged me.”

He pondered for a moment, before releasing another deep breath. “I can’t sleep alone.”

“Really?”

“Last time I did, I woke up and my parents were gone,” Din explained. “So I wait til the kid wants to go to sleep and I just go with him, so that I’m not alone.”

Your heart dropped a little at that - partially because he’d opened up to you, but also because the Child rarely ever slept. If Din only ever waited around for their exhaustion to coincide, it must have been months since he’d last got a decent night’s rest. It was the least he deserved.

Nodding, you stuck your hand out towards him. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“I’m gonna sleep and so are you,” you replied. “You need it and if I’ve done everything that you’ve instructed so far, I think I should have the same in return.”

Din didn’t want to admit it to himself at first.

It being multiple things: the fact you were helping him, the fact your presence on his ship had made the place seem better, the fact that his heart skipped a beat every time you brushed past him.

Bar his surrogate son, Din had never been close with anyone before. He’d never even slept in the same goddamn room as anyone else, even. That was a fucking mammoth step for him, but when you took his hand? It felt like a baby step. Just a tiny hop from A to B. Not a massive milestone, or a moment of personal progress. You had made it seem so simple.

Maybe that was it.

You never over-complicated anything. Your intentions were always clear and simple - there was no moral ambiguity, no moments where Din had to question whether or not he could well and truly trust you. He just knew. It was funny, because it was the exact same situation you’d had with him - questioning why he was helping you, trying to work out what he wanted. This whole time, Din had been helping you solely because he thought it was the right thing and it’s what you were doing for him too.

Din liked when you sat close to him. There was a little wave of warmth he felt every time you shuffled a bit nearer to him when you both crashed on the floor of the cockpit, and a tiny swarm of butterflies that flew through him when you stuck by his side in busy towns and cities. It was clear that you found comfort in him after so many years of going without it.

In turn, he found comfort in you. Not just in the way you unintentionally looked after him, but just...everything. Your presence had been a little odd on the Crest at first, but now it felt weird to be without it. Hearing you single quietly in the shower and have one-sided conversations with the Child filled a hole in his life that he hadn’t even realised had been there.

It was as though he’d had a missing puzzle piece his entire life; a gap between all the interconnected parts that hadn’t been integral, but certainly inconvenient. And now that it was filled, he could take a step back and finally look at the bigger picture that had been forming. All the pieces were finally there - you and the kid and whatever odd family unit that made you - and the galaxy didn’t seem so nonsensical anymore.

A little over two months after he first found you, word got around that Durant had finally been captured. Not by Din, but that hadn’t mattered - because killing the man who had hurt you, even after everything, would never amount to everything he’d done for you.

The relief didn’t last long for you, though - because as soon as you realised you no longer had a reason to hide, it dawned on you that you no longer had a reason to stay with Din. Or, at least not one you were willing to share with Din. Begging to let you stay just for the sake of being near him didn’t seem like a very convincing argument - at least not from where you were standing.

But from where Din was standing, it was a little different. You were part of his life now, even if you had no idea. That wasn’t your fault, though. He wasn’t exactly the best at vocalising it. Admitting it to himself had been hard enough, let alone to you.

“So,” you spoke softly, clearing your throat. “I suppose you’ll drop me off at the next planet?”

You were both sitting in the cock-pit; the Child was asleep downstairs and the Crest was soaring through the last stretch of hyperspace before Nevarro.

Din didn’t want to drop you off. He didn’t want his ship to be silent all over again or to sleep without you by his side. The thought alone of not having you around anymore was enough to make him a little watery-eyed beneath his beskar barrier. You’d grown on him, and in return, he’d kind of, accidentally fallen in love with you.

“You don’t have to go,” he said.

You peered over at him. “If you can think of a reason for me to stay aboard, please do let me know.”

“I want you to stay,” Din replied. He gently reached out a hand and took it in his - it was the first time that he’d given you such a vast gesture. “Isn’t that reason enough?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “It is.”

Staying aboard the Razor Crest was one of the best decisions you’d ever made.

Not only because it meant you were well and truly safe, but because Din’s direct request was a sign to you that you weren’t imagining things. Whatever attachment you felt to him, he felt it too - but it ran deeper than that. There was a mutual concern and respect for one another. Something born of two lifetimes spent on their own, finally coming together in one.

Things had been a little slow before then; the way that you danced around each other, like two magnets that were meant to come together - just with a little hesitancy. There had been a lot of late nights and long trains of thought about the signals that the other was giving off; about whether you’d misinterpreted the way his hands lingered over yours, or the way you’d practically passed out on his shoulder.

But, after that - after Din had openly asked you to stay, and you’d happily agreed, things began to move a little faster. Where you’d once been slowly walking down that hill and towards each other, you were now slipping, tripping and falling.

With each passing night, you inched closer towards each other. God forbid you ever found out, but Din even found himself pushing the pilot’s chairs closer to each other when you weren’t in the room, just so he could properly feel you next to him when you dozed off. He enjoyed your presence at the best of times but it was those dark, quiet moments when he genuinely and fully needed you.

It came to a head one night when you’d laid down with the Child beside you - not upstairs in the cockpit, but in the tiny cot in the hull of the ship.

There wasn’t room for one person, let alone one person and a tiny creature. Even worse, for two people - one in a beskar suit - and the creature. It just didn’t work. It shouldn’t have worked.

But where there’s a will, there’s a way, and the moment that Din saw you dead to the world with the Child in your arms, he was certain that he was going to make it work. Maybe with a bit of reshuffling there, and if he just moved the kid here - and that was when Grogu bit him pretty hard on the finger.

Disregarding his reshuffling plan, he knew there was only one option left.

It was something he’d never dreamt of doing before, simply for how terrifying and exposing it was - but he took one glance at you, and once glance at his kid, and he knew it was going to be worth it in the long run. It was merely a necessary step to getting closer to you - physically, mentally emotionally.

You stirred slightly at the sound of metal clattering to the floor - not enough to wake up, but enough to be a little more aware of the room around you. A moment later, there was a quiet hiss, and then everything went black.

In your sleepy state, your brain reacted a little slowly - but then the mattress beneath you dipped, and you felt someone’s skin against yours. Not just skin, but stubble against the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to it, and warm fingers tangling with yours.

“The armour,” you murmured. “You took it off.”

“It was the only way,” he softly replied. “It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” you let out a sleepy hum. “Good night…”

“Din,” he quietly said.

“Good night, Din.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin reader insert #din djarin imagine #din djarin imagines #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian reader insert #mandalorian imagines #star wars reader insert #star wars fan fiction #star wars x you #star wars imagines

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danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years ago

Note

so, How do you think the companions would react to finding out sole has advanced prosthetics from their time in the war? (i headcannon fem sole as some sort of SOF during the war, coz lawyer is just boring >.>)

Fallout 4 Companions react to Sole having advanced prosthetics from before the bombs fell.

Hey anon, thanks so much for the ask! This was really interesting to think about, and yeah, I also headcannoned one of my OCs as a soldier before the bombs fell, cuz yeah... not sure how helpful being a lawyer would be in post-apocalyptic times 😅 I hope you enjoy!

Cait:

Her eyes would fall to the line across Sole’s right elbow, wondering how she hadn’t noticed it before. She wouldn’t care too much, and wouldn’t treat them any differently, but she would be interested in how Sole had gotten their injury, and would certainly try and coax the whole story out of them (resorting to the use of alcohol if necessary to loosen their lips). She was so bold about her own traumatic past experiences, so Sole could surely tell her about this one thing, right? The brawler might also be interested in the physical abilities of their prosthetic arm and hand, wondering if it would give them an edge in the next bar fight they found themselves in.

Curie:

She would be very interested in every detail Sole could provide regarding their prosthetic shoulder, left chest plate, and arm. The scientist wouldn’t be able to contain herself, asking question after question about its functionality, the nature of Sole’s injury before they received the prosthetic, their rehabilitation process, the way the prosthetic interacts with Sole’s body and how it's able to move. As Sole stood there, trying to figure out where to begin, Curie’s eyes would widen in surprise at her own rudeness, she would apologize and ask if Sole was comfortable discussing their injury with her. As she finds out more, Curie would begin to try and create her own prosthetics based off of Sole’s in order to help any handicapped patients she came across in the Commonwealth.

Danse:

The paladin’s eyes would widen at Sole’s words. He never would have guessed that Sole’s entire left hip and leg was an advanced prosthetic, and the commanding officer would be curious as to why they hadn’t mentioned it to him earlier. He would feel guilty as he thought back on all of the times he pushed them harder, told them to gruffly to keep up or to continue moving after it seemed like they needed rest. He would apologize and ask how he could help to better accommodate Sole, offering to speak to Proctor Teagan and Proctor Ingram about Sole’s circumstances and possible improvements to their power armor or the prosthetic itself. Danse would be a little hesitant, but ultimately he would gain the courage to ask if they would be comfortable telling him about how they were injured, going so far as to share some of the stories surrounding his own battle scars with them in return.

Deacon:

Deacon would have been curious as to why Sole always wore their sunglasses, he often thought perhaps they were simply mocking him. But one night, as they removed their shades and locked eyes with him, he would notice the difference in coloration and ask them about it. When they told him one of their eyes was a fully functioning prosthetic, he'd be a little shocked, not even aware that those existed, but interested nonetheless. Apart from the occasional joke about Sole getting an eye patch, being a pirate, or just sight-related puns in general, he would be pretty chill about the whole thing. If Sole wanted to tell him more about it, he was open to it, but he wouldn't mind if they wanted to keep it to themself. No matter how much he knows, Deacon would be protective of his partner, and would try his best to keep their prosthetic a secret from as many people as possible, since it is such a unique feature of theirs.

Hancock:

He wouldn't even break eye contact with Sole when they told him about their prosthetic right arm and shoulder, he would just ever so slightly raise the ridge above his eyes in surprise at having never noticed before. It really wouldn't matter to him, and he would treat Sole the same way he always has, just maybe he would try and stick to the right of them more often since he knows that it's their weaker side. If they're ever in any pain, he'll of course have a plethora of chems on hand to help relieve them of it. He won't be one to openly ask about their past and their injury, but if they want to tell him, he's all ears and no judgment.

MacCready:

He would try to act nonchalant when they told him about their prosthetic forearm, wrist, and hand, but his expression would clearly give away his shock. What do you mean it’s not real!? How does it work? What happened to your real arm? Can you still feel stuff with it? Does it make it harder to aim? How does it move? A hundred questions would tumble into his mind, but he would try his best to keep them all from spilling out of his mouth at once, putting on a cool front, he’d simply nod and tell them that he’s glad they felt they could tell him about it, and that would be the end of it for now. As they continue traveling together, he would periodically voice one of the questions he had thought of before, still trying to seem aloof about the whole thing. In reality, he thinks it’s really cool, and it reminds him of a few comic book characters he’s read about.

Nick:

The detective was nothing short of astounded when he looked into Sole’s eyes for the first time after finding out they were fully functioning prosthetics. He couldn’t believe it, they looked so realistic, he never would have known if he hadn’t been told. Finding out about Sole’s eyes honestly made the synth feel more at home around them; not that they had ever made him feel alienated as a synth, but now he felt like they could empathize with him a bit more easily. Although, he must admit, he’s a little jealous of their normal-looking eyes in comparison to his own. The older synth has made his peace with who and what he is, having been this way his whole synthetic life, but he may just approach Sole and speak to them about where, hypothetically, he could find prosthetics like theirs, and would consider speaking to Dr. Amari about installing them. Sole, of course, would help him out, all while making sure Nick knew how much they liked his eyes the way that they are.

Piper:

The reporter's eyes would slowly widen with each inch Sole's pant leg was rolled up to expose their prosthetic ankle, shin, and knee. She would then try to contain her shock, but would fail pretty miserably as her interviewing instinct kicked in and she began firing off every question that entered her mind. Most of them had to do with how Soles life changed after they had their injury, and then received their prosthetic limb, and Sole would answer a few to appease her before she realized how insensitive she was being. Piper would then instantly make up for it by apologizing to them, and offering to help them out with anything they may need. More often than not, while they were traveling, she would offer to carry more, would try and take more rest stops, and would offer even more snacks and beverages to Sole along the way. Sole would insist that they're okay, telling her about the fully functioning nature of their prosthetic, but she would still take efforts to help them out more often.

Preston:

He would start by apologizing to Sole after he found out, but he wouldn’t be sure exactly why he felt the need to apologize. Perhaps because he felt sorry for them, and the injury and rehabilitation they had to live through? Or maybe it was because he felt like he had put too much pressure on them from the start? He had asked them to take down a dozen raiders and a deathclaw on the first day he’d met them, and then offered them the position of general, and all this time they had been helping those in need of their help with two prosthetic legs. They told him briefly that they had been injured before the bombs fell, but he hadn’t realized it had been this extensive. He would be sure to take it a little easier on them, and would be more conscious of their well-being, offering to rest more when they were traveling, and giving what missions he could to other minutemen. Preston wouldn’t pry, but would be ready to listen if Sole ever wanted to tell him more about their injury or their experience living with their prosthetics.

X6-88:

X6's expression would remain ultimately unchanged as they told him about their two prosthetic hands, but he would marvel at their authenticity. How had he not known that they were prosthetics? The courser would ask if they were fully functional, if only to ensure that the prosthetics wouldn't be a danger to Sole in combat, but once assured that they were, he wouldn't treat Sole any differently. Inside, he would be curious about how Sole had sustained such an injury, but he would never voice it. If they did choose to tell him the whole story, he would simply listen and nod, a little confused as to why they felt the need to share this information with him. Though he didn't know why they told him, he would feel a strange lightness in his chest at the fact that they trusted him enough to share something this personal with him.

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justletmeplayminecraft · 4 years ago

Text

Moving Day

it's the day that comes at the end of every season. and yet, somehow, the hermits still get caught off guard by it.

featuring: hermit ensemble, slice of life fluff, imagine moving houses but like every year and a half, werewolf!ren, something!joe, artic fox!etho, he is vaguely developed, there's pretty much no plot, just fluff, an ode to the end of this season

"Zed, you're gonna be late!" Tango calls as he drops in through the ceiling. With a bang, a mop of blond hair pokes out of the central storage. Zed rubs his head, pulling himself up.

"You're the one who distracted me with the Create world!" He replies, hauling a bag up the ladder with him. Tango laughs, throwing it over his shoulder as Zed flops onto the stone ground.

"Sure I was, it's not like you brought it up." Zed huffs, rolling his eyes. He holds his hands up towards Tango, who laughs. "Oh, you want to go over my shoulder too?" He teases.

"You are insufferable," Zed mutters, pushing off the stone himself instead. The cold is starting to seep through his cardigan.

"Have you packed everything?" Tango asks. Zed holds his fingers up to count off.

"Yes, I've checked everything four times! Maybe five, actually. I don't think there's anything left." Zed looks back at the ladders, closing his fist. Tango examines the pile of bags, humming.

"So you're sure you don't want me or Impulse to check for you?" Zed's mouth opens.

"Actually, can you check anyway?" He asks, "You know, just in case!" Tango laughs, giving Zed's shoulder a bump.

"Of course we will. But let's move these before Xisuma forgets them." Zed nods, quick to grab some of the bags. He heaves them up, almost buried under them.

"Season eight here we come!"

"You two!" Doc calls, scooping up the white fox before he manages to rush past him. Ren very nearly runs straight into his legs. The wolf sits down, ears twitching as he stares at Etho. Etho sticks his tongue out, Doc struggling to keep a hold on the silky fur. "You two aren't helping, you know that?" Ren barks, tail wagging. "Yeah, yeah."

With a wiggle, Etho manages to slip out of Doc's arms. He jumps up, curling around his shoulders instead and getting comfortable. Doc sighs. He bats Etho's shawl out of his face, ignoring the amused chitter. Counting, he finds most of his bags already in his ender chest. Luckily, because the two animals playing around him are making it difficult. Unlike-

"Doc," Bdubs cries, "Have you seen my razor?" Bdubs doesn't even bother with the door. Doc looks down at him on the lawn.

"Have you checked your half?" He asks.

Bdubs throws a hand up, "Of course I've checked my half, but Keralis tried to drag me into packing all his junk so I had to make a speedy escape!" Doc chuckles, watching as Ren jumps down to nose at Bdubs' hand. "Oh, hello, Ren!" Bdubs jumps into baby-talk immediately, crouching down. "Fancy you being here!"

"Please, take him-" Doc waves, "-The two of them keep running through my feet." Bdubs strokes through the fluff of Ren's neck, glancing up and spotting Etho.

"Oh, Etho as well!" Bdubs waves. Etho yips in reply, ear twitching. Then Bdubs pauses, looking at Ren properly. "Ah-ha, Snips! Of course, right-" Bdubs jumps up, "Thanks guys, I'll see you at the town hall!" Doc looks at Ren as Bdubs runs off.

"You going with him?" He asks. Ren's tail wags, staring at Doc. He sighs. "Right, of course not." Doc picks Etho off his shoulder, dropping him on the floor to a surprised squeak. "If only there was a way to attach some bags to the two of you." Both animalmits freeze, sharing a look with each other. Doc can't help but feel satisfied as they scarper towards the nearest nether portal together. "Perfect." He can finish packing in peace.

"Do you think you've got everything?" Wels asks, perched on a chest. Beef hauls his bag out the door with a huff.

"Well, I've got you. That's half the challenge." He looks up in time to see Wels rolling his eyes, pushing his helmet up.

"I take it back, I'm not helping you anymore."

Beef laughs, clapping Wels' arm, "We've still got Three Fox Hole to look through, you're not going anywhere yet." Wels' lips twist into a pout, crossing his arms.

"You know, when I packed early, it wasn't with the intention of doing your packing for you," he replies. But, when Beef holds out a bag, he still takes it.

"And I appreciate it!" Beef grins at him. "Maybe I'll reward you with some of my finest wallpaper-"

"Oh, please no." Wels' eyes are wide, staring in mock horror. "I might never recover."

"Oh, blackmail works too, then." Beef stands, walking past him. Wels slips off the chest, frozen in place.

"Beef- Beef, are you joking?" Beef keeps walking. Wels runs after him. "Beef!"

"Thanks for heading out this far, man," xB says, smiling at Keralis. "I know you've got a big space to cover too."

"Ah, it's nice taking a break," Keralis replies, holding one of xB's bags in his arms. "And I know there's no way this would all fit in your ender chest, princess." xB chuckles, looking at the half-folded clothes, trinkets, and daily essentials all sorted into piles.

"Yeah-" he scrubs the back of his neck. "-I kinda forget I've got so much. Too used to my travel bag." Keralis bounces the one in his arms.

"Well, it's a good job you've got me!" He bumps into xB's side, barely knocking the other hermit off balance. "I can always lend you some extra bags if you need them."

"The luggage dimension is just going to be my stuff at this rate," xB jokes.

"Oh, you haven't seen how much I have yet." They both laugh, Keralis putting the bag down with the rest that have been packed. "Now, what are we doing next?" xB turns to observe his piles.

"I think that one," he decides. Keralis nods, skipping across.

"Then let's go, we don't want to be late!"

"Cub!" Scar's voice calls down the pyramid. "I cannot believe this." Cub turns to see Scar walking along the corridor, wings fluttering in annoyance behind him. "Xisuma says my crystals aren't essential items so I can't take them. That's so unfair." Cub laughs before he can stop himself, getting an affronted noise from Scar. "Cub! I come here, I confide in you-"

"Scar," Cub interrupts, squeezing Scar's arm. Vex magic sparks around them, electrifying the air. "You could make some once we're in the next world."

"It's not the same!" Scar protests. Cub leans closer.

"Or," he whispers, "We could sneak some across ourselves."

"Oh." Scar claps his hands together. "Now you're speaking my language."

"The language of crime?" Cub asks, calling one of his bags over to him. He catches it mid-air.

"The only language I know!"

"This is why you should've made a proper storage system!" Mumbo cries, as Grian pulls out the contents of another chest. "This could've been so much easier!"

"I didn't know it was this bad!" Grian replies, finally managing to find his towels buried in an unmarked chest. He throws them towards his 'to pack' pile, Mumbo jumping out of the way.

"Didn't you have weeks to prepare for this?" He asks, looking at the scattered items in dismay.

"I mean- I did host an entire world in-between," Grian reminds him. Mumbo hums in agreement, deciding to organise some of the piles before they end up vanishing into a pure mess. He looks for similarities amongst the items, beginning to sort them into manageable groups.

Mumbo's lucky he thought to get all his essentials together ahead of time. He gave his luggage to Xisumavoid to store, and he knows it's all taken care of. It didn't stop him from checking his base another ten times, but he's pretty sure he's got everything now. Pretty sure.

He's going to end up checking his base again later, isn't he?

"Grian?" Mumbo asks, pausing as he notices something. The rummaging through chests stops, with only a quiet thud & 'ow' before Grian is looking at him.

"Yeah?" He replies.

"Do you… actually have any bags?"

"Ahhhh," Grian's face turns a similar scarlet to his jumper. "You see, Mumbo, last season, I kinda… borrowed some."

"Borrowed, right." Mumbo sighs, running his fingers through his hair. "Were you ever going to buy your own?"

"Yes!" Grian replies, words fast. "I just. Never had time." Mumbo's had most of his bags since he joined, so he guesses he can't relate. Pretty much all the hermits gifted him one. Otherwise, he would've never remembered at that age, but that's its own problem. It's a good job he remembers the essentials even now.

"So, how do you intend on packing all this?"

Grian hums, "Do you think I could just shove it in there loose?"

"I'll go find some bags," Mumbo decides. And something to help his headache...

"How many cats do you think I could smuggle to the next server?" Cleo asks, holding up another of her kittens to Joe. Joe hums thoughtfully, bright green hair moving on its own accord.

"Well, I've certainly smuggled a few of my dogs inside myself." Cleo takes a deep breath, transferring her kitten to one hand so she can pinch her nose.

"Right, of course you have." She's long learnt to stop questioning how Joe works. She's a living zombie, he's Joe. At least it makes packing easier. "I think I might take some of them to my own world, this time," she muses. "Xisuma can do that, right?"

"I'm sure he can," Joe agrees. "If not, I will have a mass exodus of animals from the server." Cleo sighs, rolling her eyes. She sets the kitten down gently amongst the other cats.

"Right, are you actually going to help me carry my bags?"

"Of course! What kind of friend would I be if I didn't try to stop you losing an arm?"

"Ugh, don't remind me." She still can't believe that happened. First, her arm falling off, then nearly losing it amongst everybody's luggage? So embarrassing. She enters the main room of her base, where she's already got her bags set out. It's surprising how many skincare products you need when you're dead. Joe follows, looking around as if he doesn't know the place like the back of his hands. To be fair, Cleo would be surprised if anybody knew the back of Joe's hands.

"Right, I've shoved as much as I can in my ender chest. If you put what you can in yours, we can divide the remainder up," she lays out the action plan.

"Sounds perfect!" Joe picks up two bags. "Are you sure you don't just want me to transport them over?"

"Keep your true self off my stuff, Joe, you know what happened last time."

Joe sighs, "Fine, fine. We'll do this the human way."

"You'll do this the human way," she amends. "I'll do it the zombie way."

"Stress, it's only a spider," Iskall says, pointing his sword towards it. Said spider is standing triumphantly on top of her bags, red eyes glinting. Stress pokes around the doorway, brown hair falling across her face.

"Yeah, but it's a spider on me stuff!"

"You've fought worse than spiders!"

"Just get rid of it, Iskall!" He sighs. Readying himself for a fight, he crosses across the room, stamping his foot in front of the pile. The spider hisses, sharp fangs a warning. But when the creature jumps, Iskall's sword is there to meet it, throwing the spider to the ground where it disappears into twinkling orbs.

"Look, was that so hard?" Iskall asks, his hand on his hip as he looks back at her. Stress bounces in, grinning.

"It wasn't, was it? Guess I don't need to thank you, then!" Iskall rolls his eyes, slipping his sword back into his inventory.

"Like you don't need to thank me for helping carry your stuff?"

"Oh, I'll thank you for that." Iskall laughs, grabbing the strap of two bags and throwing them over his shoulder.

"How many trips do you think we'll need?" He asks, seeing her haul two up herself. Stress hums, observing the pile.

"Prob'ly only two or three. If we get started soon then we'll get done faster, too." Iskall can hear the teasing tone in her voice.

"Aren't you the one that was scared of a spider?"

"Don't know what you're talkin' about!" She calls, walking past him. Iskall shakes his head, smiling fondly before rushing after her.

"Hey TFC!" False calls, touching down at his base. She smiles at the sight of his usual suitcases, already neatly packed and organized. Everything's labelled in TFC's signature handwriting to boot. Far more planned out than her, she's gotta say. But that's a problem for the next world.

"False, what can I help you with?" TFC's smile is always nice to see. She flicks her elytra closed, waving.

"I came to ask you that, actually," she replies. "Wanted to know if you'd like help carrying things over. I did all my packing a few weeks back, so I'm kinda bored." And if she stays still for too long, X will probably try to rope her into admin duties. Sure, she knows the basics, but she doesn't want to be responsible for anybody's stuff going missing. Not her department.

"Well, I'm never going to turn down some extra hands," TFC replies. He walks over and pats the suitcases on the left. "These are all ready to go, I'm still finishing up with the others. Has Xisuma already started?"

"I think he was just finishing the pocket dimension, so you've still got a little while." The hermits always rush to be the first in, as if everybody's stuff won't fit. In False's opinion, being last is best. It's easier to get your things out when they're closer to the entrance.

"Good, good. Let him know I'm nearly finished, would you?"

False nods, saluting with one hand and picking up a suitcase with the other, "Will do!"

Hypno walks into Jevin's base to find him and Impulse slotting the last few items into boxes. He knows Jevin was mostly packed already, so it's nice Impulse has come to help out. But… Jevin might just be taking advantage of Impulse. Hypno won't think too much into it.

"X has finished setting up," he calls, not needing an introduction. Jevin twists to look at him, Impulse busy trying to fit a label on straight.

"So you're saying I'm late?" Jevin asks. Hypno chuckles, deciding to join them on the floor.

"You know what the rush is like to get stuff in. You'll be fine for a little while." Hypno shrugs, "After Wels, X'll probably be careful." Impulse nods, sitting back now the label of 'hoodies' is attached.

"I've already handed my stuff in," Impulse says, "I think False might have too? We both finished up pretty early."

"Yeah, there was a lot in the town hall ready to be moved." Hypno wonders if the hermits are getting more prepared for this. Somehow, he doubts it.

"So, you've come to help me carry these over?" Jevin asks, Hypno looks at the boxes, shrugging.

"With all three of us, it should only be two trips, right?" There are only five boxes, and two are pretty small anyway.

"That's the spirit!" Impulse calls, grinning. "Do you think you're all ready to go?"

"Yep, I think that's everything," Jevin decides. He pats a box, making more of a squelching sound. Hypno does his best not to laugh.

"Then let's get moving!"

Xisuma sighs as his visor adjusts to filter out the sunlight. Coding that in was a stroke of genius. It used to be such a nightmare to continuously adjust between the pocket dimension and hermitcraft. He looks at the stacked luggage to be moved, trying to figure out if there's more there than before. He swears there is. And they didn't even say hi when they dropped it off! Rude.

He jumps when something nudges the back of his knees, sending him stumbling forward. Turning, he finds Ren, his tail wagging proudly behind him.

"Oh! Hello there." He reaches down, giving Ren a scratch behind the ears. "Are you planning to change back before we move?" Ren barks in reply. "I'll pretend that's yes."

Turning, he sees a white tail flicking over blue diamonds. Of course, those two are together. Etho's curled up in the sun, black eyes watching the pair. One ear is stuck up, the other flopped lazily.

"You two aren't going to help me carry things in, are you?" X asks, sighing as he looks back at Ren.

"I think Ren forgot to leave a spare pair of clothes out, actually," Etho says, legs dangling off the throne. He's tugging his shawl over his nose now he's in human form. Or, as human as Etho gets. "And his outfit may have experienced some... unfortunate circumstances." Xisuma looks at Ren's sad eyes, shaking his head at the pair of them.

"And those didn't involve you in any way?" X asks Etho with what he thinks is an appropriate amount of suspicion in his voice. Etho holds his hands up, leaning back in a way that would have most people falling over.

"Are you accusing me, Xisuma?"

"I don't know, am I, Ren?" Ren gives a concise nod. Etho gasps, clutching over his heart.

"Betrayed by my own brethren!" Etho cries. Ren's tail is wagging, betraying his otherwise neutral expression.

"Come and help me carry things, you," X says, calling Etho over. "We'll be here for another month if you don't." Etho laughs, but jumps off the side of the throne, landing with barely a thud.

"What are we moving, bossman?" Etho asks. Xisuma surveys the piles.

"Mumbo's stuff next, I think," X decides, "He usually takes a while to unpack." Etho nods, following X's lead as they grab a bag and box respectively.

"So this is what you guys do at the end of the season?" Etho asks, Ren trotting along with them. Xisuma hums as he enters the pocket dimension, finding an open space at the back of the room.

"Yep, this is moving day," he explains. "I always try my best to make it easy for the hermits, but it doesn't often end up working." Etho chuckles, placing the bag on top of X's box.

"Seems like most people aren't done yet," Etho agrees.

"They'll get there," Xisuma replies. The hermits always do eventually.

They're just stepping out of the portal when a voice calls, "I'm not late am I?!" X scruffs Ren's neck, smiling at Zed, who's running over with far too many bags thrown over his back.

"Not at all, friend," he reassures him. Zed drops his bags, bent over and panting. Tango strolls up behind him far more leisurely.

"See, Zed, I said you wouldn't be!" Zed whips in his direction.

"Oh, you, mister 'oh Zed you're going to be late, we're all going to leave you behind', you-" Tango laughs, fluffing Zed's hair as he sets his bags down. They take the rest of his luggage out of the ender chest Xisuma left specifically for this purpose. Beef and Wels walk up together as they do, Xisuma waving to them.

"Beefers!" Etho says, grinning.

"Hey Etho, Tango, Zed, Xisuma." Beef pauses, "Oh, and a Ren!"

"Hey guys!" Wels simplifies, dropping his bags at the doors. "This should be everything from us."

"Perfect!" Xisuma nods, "You guys okay to help me carry things through?"

"Yeah, we can help out!" "That's cool with me."

Moving things goes a lot faster with five of them helping to carry things through. Xisuma just catches Impulse, Jevin and Hypno dropping one lot off, getting a frantic wave before the trio is rushing off again. The pocket dimension is quickly filling up with bags and boxes, the hermits a constant line as they drop in and out. Xisuma frequently checks, but it seems like the dimension is handling the pressure okay.

"Xisuma!" Joe calls, him and Cleo wandering up the town hall's stairs. By this point, Cub and Scar have joined them with TFC, False, Stress and Iskall all dropping things off too.

"Good to see you both," X greets, one of Wels' bags hugged in his arms. He turns away, before hesitating, something nagging the back of his mind. After a second of focus- "Joe, why do you have so many hitboxes inside you?"

"Ah, that's nothing you have to worry about, dear admin." Xisuma gives him a long look and decides this isn't a battle he's going to pick.

"As long as you're willing to help out," he says, instead. "We're only waiting for a few people. He takes a look at the gathered hermits. Cleo's now lying on the floor, Ren beside her. His tail is already wagging again. Cub is picking a box up, whilst Scar skips through the portal holding three bags with magic. Etho's chatting to Tango and Zed as they work.

"Of course! We'll be finished in no time." It's already taken most of the day, but X doesn't need to mention that. He sets his vision back to normal, does another check of the pocket dimension, and returns to carrying boxes.

The remaining hermits trickle in as the sun sets. Stress and Beef sort out dinner for everyone, Xisuma making sure the last of the luggage is safe.

"Wait!" A few heads turn at Grian's cry, heavy footsteps rushing up to town hall. "I- I've got my stuff." Xisuma blinks at the sight of the hermit carrying about four bags at once. One is bright pink.

"You're not too late," X reassures him. "You can just drop it in, there should be room." He's settled into a shaded corner, preparing for the process of safely moving over twenty players. And Joe. If he's being honest, the data is starting to give him a headache. But it'll be worth it once they're all in their new world. Their temporary 'in-between' world is already set up. Somewhere for them all to stay whilst he handles the switch over. Most of the hermits take the time to visit friends or do other projects during that, anyway.

"Thanks, X," Grian says, between gasps. He runs into the portal, X laughing softly to himself. Mumbo walks up a few minutes later, glancing at the group.

"Is Grian in there?" He asks. Before X can even reply, about four hermits are giving an affirmative. "Thanks, guys!" Mumbo heads in after, only two bags in tow. X watches, well-aware of the fondness in his chest. It's a good reminder of just what he does this for.

It's another hour until everything's ready. The sun is hanging over the horizon (Xisuma may have frozen the day cycle a while back.) X has watched warily as they've shared food, chatted, played games (including one very dramatic wink murder. He's not sure what happened in Grian's server, and he's not sure he wants to ask.) But now, they've all gathered around, watching as Xisuma enters the final commands.

"Okay, everybody here knows the drill. Stay with somebody else, I want to do a headcount on the other side, then you're all free to wander." He projects his voice, the hermits hushing to listen. "Is everybody ready?"

"Yeah!" "Born ready!" "We've been ready for hours!" "Is there food on the other side?"

X shakes his head. With a final press of the enter key, the portal opens in front of the diamond throne. There's a collective murmur of anticipation.

"Alright, you lot can head through. I'll join you in half an hour, max." He can't even make out words following that. TFC and False are first, walking through with a wave to the others. Stress and Iskall run after them. The rest of the hermits take their time. Some share hugs, some take a last look at the horizon. And Xisuma watches over it all, determined every single one of his hermits will make it safely through.

"X?" Impulse calls. He and Hypno are standing together. The town hall feels so much emptier now the hermits are gone. "You sure you'll be okay?"

"I'll be fine," Xisuma promises. "All standard procedure. I'll see you soon." They nod, sharing a last smile.

"Okay then. Stay safe, X."

"You two as well. Try and keep the others from misbehaving until I get there."

Hypno laughs, "No promises."

And like that, Xisuma's alone. He sighs, sinking back against the diamond throne. The sun casts golden beams over the land. This has been… a good season. They all are, but. Xisuma smiles as he sets the tick speed of the world to zero, freezing it in time. He thinks next season will be something special. It only takes fifteen minutes to finish his commands, the rest he needs to do on the other side.

"Goodbye, old friend." He pats the diamond throne. With a look over the eerily still shopping district, he sighs. It really is the hermits that fill a world with life, isn't it? "To more admin work," he murmurs, before laughing at himself.

"Shishwam?" Xisuma jumps, clutching his chestplate.

"Oh my goodness, you scared me." Keralis giggles. He's waiting in front of the portal, hands in his pockets. "I thought you went through."

"Well..." Keralis starts, "Somebody said we needed to go through the portal with someone else. And then I thought of a certain admin going through alone..." Xisuma laughs, shaking his head. He joins Keralis, swirling colours reflecting off his armour.

"Of course you did." He takes a deep breath. "Well, I'm ready to go." Keralis wraps his arm around Xisuma's shoulders, squeezing him tight.

"You've done a good job this season, Shishwammy. I hope you know that." Xisuma sneaks one last look out the doorway before they leave this world behind.

"Yeah." He smiles. "I think I do."

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #my writing #catch me last minute changing the entire ending #but im easing myself back into writing #and what better than a homage to the changing of seasons?

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