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djarincore · 11 months ago

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The Name of Love

SUMMARY: You knew him by three names: Mando, Din, and finally, riduur.

PAIRING: din djarin x gn!reader

WORD COUNT: 6.9k

WARNINGS: fluff, angst, canon typical violence, blood, hypothermia, happy ending

A/N: a repost from my previous blog! i've only written 2 full din fics so far but this is def my favorite one <3 thanks again to @xiadeptus for beta reading this

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You first knew him as the Mandalorian, the stoic and aloof bounty hunter that drifted in and out of Tatooine looking for work or ship repairs. The glinting armor was hard not to notice under the scorching twin suns, along with his infamous reputation that followed in whispers—whispers which mainly revolved around the strange, green child he carried around in a bag and the fact that he never showed his face.

When you first got the job at Peli’s garage, thanks to the favor she owed your mother, the sight of the Mandalorian descending the ramp of his beaten-up Razor Crest had you slipping behind a couple of stacked crates with the rest of the quivering pit droids. He strode down the ramp toward your boss who was already reaching for the green child trailing after him.

“There’s my little guy!” She exclaimed, scooping him up and cradling him in her arms. The child cooed and clasped her finger in his three-fingered grasp. His keeper watched on with hands on his hips; the helmet remained solely focused on the child.

“We need a repair,” he said, the rasp in his voice still remaining despite the modulator.

“Sure thing but, just so you know, it’ll cost you a little extra this time. Got a new hire.” She jerked her thumb in your direction.

You took it as your cue to reveal yourself, noting the way his helmet turned, carefully looking you up and down, and his hand slowly moved toward the blaster at his waist, like he wasn’t above shooting the harmless mechanic’s assistant and a couple of droids. You lifted both hands, stained with oil, as a show of goodwill.

“Aw, relax, Mando,” Peli drawled, swatting the air with her nonchalant attitude. “They’re not a droid.”

His hand slipped off the handle, but remained at his side, ready to draw if necessary.

You sent him a friendly half-smile and his gloved fingers twitched.

“Fine.”

The remainder of the day was spent repairing the left wing and engine of his ship, which looked like it had seen the losing side of a gunfight, and you couldn’t help but wonder how he managed to limp down to Tatooine without crashing and burning once he broke through the atmosphere.

The job would have been faster if you had some assistance from the droids, but Peli made it clear they weren’t allowed anywhere near the ship or the Mandalorian, making his disdain for them abundantly clear. You wondered the whole day what a droid could have done to make him hate even the smallest of droids. The theories you built in your head ran wild, ranging from a nasty betrayal by a trusted ally to tripping him in a crowded cantina, embarrassing him so badly he vowed to never show his face ever again.

You leaned against the rope of the swing suspending you off the ground, taking a break from welding metal back together, and watched the Mandalorian move below your feet. He walked with purpose, something a fearsome bounty hunter with a widespread reputation was expected to do; every step was carefully calculated like a predator hunting prey. Behind him was the child clumsily waddling, as fast as his legs could carry him, after the man.

Your lips curved into a soft smile while observing the dichotomy of the two. It warmed your heart to see how attached the child was to his guardian. More questions formed in your mind about their relationship; the rumors didn’t contain the exact details of how the two came to be together.

Maybe the child is his biological son and beneath all the armor is green, wrinkly skin and comically large ears tucked into the helmet, you joked to yourself.

You pressed one of the buttons on the side of your swing to lower yourself to the ground. Your feet touched the floor, but you didn’t get up.

“Your ship should be up and running in no time.”

“Thank you for your help.”

“No pro- Oh!” You exclaimed when something poked at your leg. A three-fingered hand was tapping your leg; large black eyes gazed up at you. You cooed, “Hello there, little guy.”

He tugged at the cuff of your pants, waving his arms in the air. You waved back, fighting back the urge to smooth your fingers over his floppy ears.

“He wants you to hold him.”

“Ah,” you chuckled, cheeks warming. You didn’t have much experience with children; in fact, you didn’t know the first thing about caring for one. They had so many needs, so many different ways of communicating them too. The pressure to mold them into upstanding beings—it was just too much. But, you could definitely hold a child, especially one as cute as him.

You pulled him into your arms and he immediately found the strings of your shirt vastly entertaining.

“I think he likes me,” you quipped.

The child’s babble sounded like a positive response.

“Me too,” the Mandalorian said, leaning against a crate and watching the two of you.

There were multiple rotations between their visits. Each visit brought a new scratch, ding, or completely wrecked engine that made you look on in disbelief, but you were eager to see the two nonetheless. They brought stories of their adventures, bounties, and new people they met.

You would be the first to greet them, standing at the base of the ship’s ramp with a wide grin and many questions budding on the tip of your tongue.

“Hey.”

The modulated voice made you snap out of your thoughts.

“Yes, sir?”

You could hear him huff behind the modulator. He said to just call him Mando the first time you called him sir, but you never picked it up, finding it too entertaining to hear his exasperated sighs.

“Want to get off this planet? I’ve got a job proposition.”

Your goodbyes were easy—a hug for Peli, head pats for each droid—and suddenly, you found yourself sitting in the cockpit of the ship you had been repairing for the past few rotations.

You quickly learned space was cold and you were not prepared. The thin clothes you were used to on Tatooine wouldn’t cut it anymore and it left you shivering in the passenger seat.

You sunk down your seat, wrapping your arms around yourself to find a semblance of warmth.

You weren’t sure what your purpose was in the time between ports, but even if you knew, you were frozen to your seat and unable to move without feeling stiff.

Soon, you fell asleep, lulled by the stars and the sound of beeps and hollow groans of an old ship.

You woke to fabric being draped over your body and a glimmer of beskar.

The hands over the fabric paused; the Mandalorian stepped back, hands returning to his side, flexing at his waist. “Should have told me you were cold.”

You gripped the fabric and realized it was one of his thick, woolen capes which smelled of caf beans and leather. You resisted the urge to nestle your cheek against the wool and savor the comfort it offered.

“I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re a part of my crew now,” he said firmly. “We take care of each other.”

Your heart stuttered, fingers curled tighter around his cape, and you muttered a pathetic, “Yeah.”

From the kindness he offered, you made a silent promise at that moment; as long as the three of you were together, you would do anything to protect them.

It wouldn’t be long before you realized he felt the same.

—

Then, you learned his name, his real name—Din Djarin. It had been a while into your partnership. You learned far more about the two than your theories could have imagined—his Creed, his force-wielding child.

The three of you had a good routine. He would scout out bounties while you either worked on the ship or found other mechanic work elsewhere if the ship was (miraculously) undamaged. Grogu would be passed between the two of you. If Mando’s bounty was too dangerous for him to follow you’d take him for the day, letting him pass you random tools and praising him for helping. And at the end of the day, the three of you reconvened with separate checks that would go toward supplies and other basic necessities. If it was a particularly rough day, you would be forcing him onto a crate and checking his wounds.

“I’m fine,” he would insist, attempting to push your wandering hands aside. But, you could see the unsteady shake of his hand and the sliver of skin and blood showing on his waist where he was cut.

It was a simple routine, but it worked. You had no complaints…

…Well, just one.

“ Kriff, we’re gonna crash!” You cried, shutting your eyes to avoid seeing your imminent doom that took the form of two towering cliffs of ice far too close together for the ship to slip through. The two tailing bounty hunter ships had followed you from Nevaro, after accusing Mando of stealing a bounty from them, which he rightfully caught.

You knew working for a bounty hunter wasn’t going to be easy, comfortable, or safe—but, you trusted him. He was good at what he did and you never doubted it.

The ship turned on its side, jerking your entire body to the right, and left you at the mercy of the belt across your body to keep you in your seat. You could hear the scrape of ice across the bottom of the ship and cringed, knowing you’d have to repair that (if you even made it out of this alive).

When the ship slipped free from the narrow gap and straightened. you let out a breath and opened your eyes. Snow, miles, and miles of it, touched everything your eyes could see.

He glanced at you over his shoulder. If you could see his face, you’d guess it was smug.

You were getting better at reading your faceless partner. He didn’t say much but his body did with every head tilt and shrug. And you would catch yourself spending a lot of time just observing him.

“You’ve gotta stop piloting like that,” you huffed, cradling your head when you feel the slightest throb. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days.”

“Don’t plan on it,” came his monotone response.

The ship cruised, his helmet scanning the horizon, and kept low in the meantime. There was no sign of the other two ships.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and stood; a wave of dizziness had you staggering. When your hand flew out to catch on to something, you found his, already reaching out to steady you in his strong grasp. The brush of his thumb over your knuckles made your breath catch.

“I have to lie down.” To stop your heart from racing at his subtle touches.

You thought you had gotten used to it by now—the way he made you feel safe. Whether it was his hand hovering over the base of your spine as he guided you through a crowded market or how he would always position himself between you and whatever shady character he had dealings with. The small gestures piled up and toyed with your mind. You understood the signs—heart racing, nervous tension in your chest—the budding symptoms of love.

“We’re not in the clear yet.”

You brushed the heat crawling over your neck off and said, “Can’t we land somewhere and wait them out a while? I’m gonna be sick if you start flying upside down.”

The beginning of his argument was cut off by the cockpit door opening. You slipped out and down the ladder into the cargo hold. Some crates shifted to the right of the ship as a result of the sharp turn. You weren’t concerned with them as much as you were with your makeshift bed space, a flimsy sleeping bag and some blankets, which were also flung off to the side. One of your blankets was stuck under a crate, too heavy for you to lift by yourself.

You groaned, weakly tugging at the fabric peeking out beneath. You were cold, tired, and sick—you already hated this planet.

You heard a curse from above and Mando shouted, “Hold onto something!”

You didn’t have time to react before the ship was nose-diving, throwing you against the wall. You clung to the ladder as the ship's sporadic movements jostled your entire body. It continued for a few more seconds before settling and the engines cut out. Everything was finally still, except your heart.

You heard the creaks of ice settling beneath the ship, then cracks. It wasn’t long before the ice gave way to the weight, shattering into a cavern below and dragging the ship with it.

You don’t remember hitting your head, just the scream that came before it. But, when you finally came to, numb and confused, Mando was rattling your shoulders with a panicked voice.

“Wake up.”

You could have sworn in your daze there was a desperate ‘please’ added at the end.

You groaned, peeling your eyes open, “Mando?”

He sighed like a massive weight was lifted off of him. “Yeah,” he said, there was a hint of a smile in his voice. He carefully slipped his arms behind your shoulders and knees. “It’s me. I’ve got you.”

You were half aware of him lifting you, too dazed by the cold settling under your skin and making a home deep in your bones.

The hull was dusted with snow and frost. You spotted a large hole in the side of the ship, crudely covered with a tarp and some crates.

“Got t’ fix,” you mumbled, leaning your head against his shoulder pauldron. You didn’t even know where to start with something that large on this barren planet. If you weren’t so cold, the dread would have set in, realizing you were stranded on a barren planet with little resources to dig yourselves up from a cold grave.

“Not right now,” he grunted, kicking your toolbox aside—the one he gifted you on Nevaro after you eyed it at a stall for too long. He approached the small corner beside his bunk, which was caved in, where there was little snow piled. He set you down, supporting the back of your head with his hand as he laid you against the wall. “I’ll be right back.”

You could’ve protested if your mouth or eyes didn’t feel frozen shut; all you wanted to do was drift off.

“Hey, hey,” he said. He ripped a glove off and pressed his warm hand to your cheek. “Don’t fall asleep.”

You moaned, pushing closer to the warmth, and tried to focus on his visor.

“There you go. Good.”

With your thoughts slowly catching up, you glanced around his shoulders, not seeing a floating pram anywhere. You wanted to get up and rush around him in search of the child, but all you could muster was a sharp turn of your head that still sent pain down your neck. “Where’s-”

Mando brought your face back to him. His steady voice pulled you out of your panic. “He’s fine. He’s up in the cockpit; I’ll bring him down after I get you some blankets.”

“Okay.” You rested your head against the wall and watched as he untied his cape and slipped it over your shoulders, tucking it close around your body.

He disappeared up the ladder. You heard his faint footsteps, scouring the upper level. He returned soon, a few blankets slung over his shoulder and Grogu tucked in his other arm.

He set Grogu down and moved you forward just enough for him to sling more blankets over your shoulders.

If you could feel your face, maybe you’d laugh at how ridiculous you looked and felt, like a small child being coddled by a worried parent. But, he wasn’t a worried parent, he was your employer—your incredibly kind and caring employer, who you often dreamt of as more than an employer, more than a friend.

“Aren’t y-you,” you chattered, “cold, too?”

You worried about him under all that shining armor; he could be hiding an injury like he always did, pretending he was fine and limping off somewhere else to lick his wounds alone. You wished he wouldn’t be so stubborn all the time.

Grogu crawled into your lap, playing with the tips of your frozen fingers. Mando said something about his armor keeping him warm, but you didn’t register any of it when his hands enveloped yours—calloused and warm.

“Try to keep your arms and legs moving,” he said, massaging the palm of your hands. Then he directed his attention to Grogu. “Okay, kid, keep your buir warm. I’m going to repair the ship.”

“Hm?” You cocked your head at the word. Sure, he liked sneaking Mando’a words into his sentences from time to time—sometimes calling you mesh’la or cyar’ika, which made you blush because of how sincere he sounded—but you just assumed they were nicknames. You assumed buir meant babysitter or something along those lines, too. “Stealing my job, Mando?” you quipped instead.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

When his hands slipped from yours, your fingers twitched, almost asking him not to go. You would warm up faster if he were with you.

He slipped past the tarp, into the cavern of snow. Grogu’s babble drew your attention; his arms were raised.

You apologized, “Sorry, kid, I’d lift you up, but my arms are a bit sore right now.”

He continued to babble as he found comfort nestled in your lap instead. You rested your head against the wall and stared at the opening where Mando left, still feeling the ghost of his warmth on your hand.

The minutes you spent slowly flexing your hands and feet paid off; your strength was slowly returning. Grogu crawled off of your lap and watched as you, with the grace of a newborn calf, pushed yourself onto unsteady feet.

“Okay, kid, let’s go help your dad.” You scooped him up and braced yourself with Mando’s cape, making sure the two of you were snug beneath the fabric before pushing aside the tarp and stepping outside into the frigid weather.

The cold winds were the first to greet you; already, your cheeks were growing numb. Grogu let out a disapproving grunt, clearly not favoring the cold either.

You stayed close to the side of the ship in case your legs gave out and rounded the tail end before finding Mando, with frost coating his armor and hands on his hip, staring at a jumble of wires hanging from an open panel.

Upon seeing his father, Grogu cheered in your arms, alerting the Mandalorian whose head snapped in your direction.

He was already approaching you before declaring, “You need to rest.”

“I can’t cozy up in there while you’re out here all by yourself. Look at you.” You drew a line in the frost coating his chest plate. “You must be freezing under all that.”

“I said I’m-”

“Fine,” you finished. “I know, I know—you’re always fine, Mando.”

You were growing tired of his stubborn attitude concerning his well-being and of standing for so long. You were beginning to sway without realizing it, but Mando’s quick hand on your shoulder steadied you.

“I got you,” he murmured. He took Grogu from you and moved to your side. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, silently guiding you back into the ship’s hull and onto the spot where the blankets were piled.

Once you were settled, you expected him to wander back out but, to your surprise, he began detaching pieces of his armor.

You watched, mouth agape, as one by one the shining beskar revealed a dark flight suit that molded with the contours of his body. The helmet, of course, stayed.

He eased himself onto the floor beside you and wrapped the three of you beneath the blankets. Your eyes widened when his arm pressed against yours. You dared to rest your head against his shoulder; you relished in the comfort of his presence, finally feeling warmer than ever. His body began to relax gradually with your head on his shoulder and his chest rose and fell in an even rhythm.

With Grogu resting in your lap it almost felt like the three of you were a family, settling in after a long day.

“You’re always protecting everyone,” you said, exhaustion beginning to creep over you once again. “We’re a crew, right? Let me take care of you too.”

You knew the irony in saying that while he was taking care of you, but you hoped he would remember it.

He slipped his gloves off to flex the stiff muscles. “I’m,” he started, “just not used to this.”

“Having a crew?” You guessed.

“Having someone care.”

Your mouth dropped open with a response dying on your tongue. Instead, you resolved to take his hand and curl your fingers through his. They were stiff from the cold, but relaxed once your thumb ran over the ridges of his knuckles.

“You’re a good man and I trust you with my life. Don’t think for a second I don’t care about you, Mando. I-” You cut yourself off.

You what? Loved him? Kriff. He just started opening up to you. Telling him you were in love with him right after would surely make him run in the other direction. You doubted he felt the same. You could read him, but not that well.

“Din.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, relieved he didn’t attempt to figure out what you were going to say. “What?”

“My name’s Din.”

He was looking at you now. Maybe if you squinted hard enough you could catch a glimpse of his eyes behind his darkened visor, but you wouldn’t disrespect his Creed and you didn’t think you could handle seeing his strong gaze, boring into you.

So, you turned your eyes down toward your intertwined hands; you tested his name on your tongue and smiled.

Getting off the ice planet took work—a mix of frustration and determination—and you swore to get a nice vacation on some far, far away planet, preferably with a warm, sunny beach.

But, the ship needed heavier repairs, forcing the three of you to find the nearest planet, Trask, for maintenance. A dock worker was quick to offer his services, charging more than necessary, once you landed.

You frowned when Din agreed without hesitation, dropping the credits into his slimy hands. You could have rolled up your sleeves and got to work yourself with better equipment at hand, but Din insisted on the three of you getting some real rest after the stress of the past three days.

The place was seedy, smelled of fish, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of unwanted eyes stalking the three of you as you passed through the quiet harbor. You and Din walked on either side of Grogu’s floating pram.

You, with a scowl glued to your face, pulled your cape, one of Din’s, tighter around yourself. The toolbox Din gifted you was clasped in your hand, deemed too precious to leave behind while strangers fixed the ship. You leaned into Din and whispered, “We should just go back to Tatooine for the repairs; I can do it.”

“I know you can, but the ship’s too damaged and you know it.”

You huffed.

Grogu mimicked your huff, putting on his best grouchy face, and your frown lightened into a smile, pointing at the boy. “See—even he agrees with me.”

Din let out an amused hum. “When did the two of you decide to team up against me?”

“We hold secret meetings when you’re out and conspire against you.”

“Guess I should watch my back,” he deadpanned.

Night fell quickly on Trask and before you knew it, the streets were oddly quiet, only lit by dim street lights in rounded sections.

Din’s stride grew cautious; his helmet subtly turned to scan the area.

You also took caution, straining your ears for anything out of place, but all you heard was the nearby tide pulling in and out.

There was a shift in the gravel behind you. Din’s hand shot out to shove aside Grogu’s pram, sending him off to a nearby stack of crates, and he could only brush your shoulder before turning and deflecting a blaster shot with his vambrace. The heat from the blast radiated in the air around you.

“Run!” He barked, ripping his blaster from its holder and firing off a shot into the dark.

Your feet hesitated and your heart stuttered when another blast hit his chest plate, forcing a grunt from him. But, the sound of worried coos snapped you out of it. You turned and ran toward Grogu who watched the fight with large eyes.

Three figures emerged from the darkness, dressed like pirates, and armed with unrelenting blasters all aimed at Din.

“Give up the armor, Mando.” One of them demanded.

“It’s time to hide, okay?” You said, tucking Grogu into the pram. Your thumb brushed over the mythosaur necklace he always wore like a lucky charm and you were praying it would work. You pressed the button on the outside of his pram to shut it.

The fight was coming to a close by the time you turned back, much to your relief. Two were knocked out cold, sprawled across the floor while the remaining one continued to fight. Both of them resorted to hand-to-hand combat after they managed to disarm one another.

Just when you thought you could relax, the remaining pirate pulled out a blade and took a swipe at Din, plunging it deep into his side and back out. Your breathing stopped when Din staggered and fell to his knees.

The pirate grabbed him by his cowl, pressing the bloodied blade to his throat, and sneered, “Give up.”

Your hands shook. Not like this, you thought. You couldn’t— wouldn’t —lose him. You dropped your toolbox and fell to your knees, wrenching it open to look for anything that would help. You pulled the largest item free, the hammer, and ran. Adrenaline pushed your feet toward the two and, putting all your weight into it, you swung at the pirate's head, sending him stumbling back.

Only dazed, the pirate sent you a menacing glare, lips pulled back into a snarl, and spat out curses, promising you’d regret it.

Your hand clenched the hammer, heart racing, ready to swing again as he prepared to lunge at you. Not even fear or the promise of death would stop you from saving Din.

Then, something ignited, cold and droning like echoes of the abyss, behind the pirate.

You smelt the smoke before the nauseating burnt flesh. It made your stomach roll.

A haunting glow emitted from the pirate's chest before it was sliced clean through. He fell—lifeless—with a thud, crimson leaking from the gash and pooling around him.

Din stood over him—one hand clutching his waist and the other holding the darksaber. His chest rose and fell; his helmet was fixated on the body. You could hear the leather of his gloves cry as his hand tightened around the hilt of the saber.

You never saw him use it before. It looked more like an accessory on him rather than a weapon. He once explained its bloody history and how he came to acquire it. The weight of its importance haunted him, a burden he never wished to bear.

“Oh, Maker,” you cried, rushing toward him. The darksaber unignighted; the heavy atmosphere disappeared along with it and time continued. You dropped the hammer and pressed your hand to his wound. Blood seeped through his fingers and onto yours.

He grunted, “I’m…”

Your wavering voice saying his name made him pause.

“Let’s get out of the street,” he said instead. He waved Grogu’s pram forward with the controls on his vambrace. It opened, revealing the whimpering child.

The three of you limped all the way to an inn. When the innkeeper sent you a weary look, you demanded the first room available and a medical kit—whatever the price. After slapping the credits on the counter, you snatched up the kit and dragged Din toward the room, not caring about the drops of blood staining the hallway.

The room was small and gray; a single bed set in the middle of the room, a nightstand on either side, and a fresher. You eased him onto the bed, where he slumped and groaned.

The medical kit was meager; a suture kit, antiseptic wipes, and a few bacta patches, but it would do. You dashed to the fresher to wash your hands. You scrubbed them viciously, watching his blood run down the sink. Tears blurred your vision. The red wouldn’t stop running.

When you emerged from the fresher, his shirt was already rolled up and he was attempting to clean his wound. Grogu was asleep in his pram, wiped out from all the excitement.

You released a tired sigh. “Let me.”

You moved to take the cloth from him, kneeling at his feet and wiping around the area of the wound gently.

“Don’t do that again,” he rasped.

“Save your life?” The playful tone you attempted fell flat. As much as you wanted to be amused, the fear of losing him still suffocated you. He was safe, your thoughts repeated.

Once the wound was cleaned you pulled the needle from the kit. You were in over your head and a bit nauseous. Cleaning wounds was easy, but stitching them up was something else.

You’ve seen him cauterize his own wounds and pinched your nose when the smell became too much. He didn’t deserve the scars they left behind and this was your opportunity to finally take care of him.

You willed your hands not to tremble as you notched the needle through his skin, apologizing when he sucked in a sharp breath or flinched.

“I told you to run.”

Your voice was finally firm when you said, “I’m not going to leave you.”

He was your partner, through and through, and you cared for him.

When you were finished, you unwrapped a bacta patch and laid it over the suture. You smoothed over the patch and withdrew your hands.

He was already sitting up taller, no longer hunched over or wheezing. You knew it was a good sign but you still trembled all over.

You raised your head, but your eyes were stuck on his cowl where a sliver of his blood was left from the blade. The tears were returning, flooding your bottom lashes.

Would that pirate have killed him right there on the street, stripped him of his armor, and left him like trash? You would have had to drag his body back to the ship—would have to tell Grogu his father was dead.

“Cyar’ika, look at me,” he said, finding your cheek with his palm. “Just breathe.”

You didn’t realize you were gasping for breath, tears running down your cheeks until your eyes finally connected with his visor.

“I just can’t lose you, Din,” you cried. “I can’t .”

There was so much you wanted to say—so much he needed to know. You were so close to losing him and losing the chance to admit how you’d grown to feel over the course of your partnership.

He guided you onto the bed and held you until the tears stopped and subsided into sniffles. Your face was buried in his cowl and your arms were thrown around his shoulder.

“I can’t lose you either,” he admitted, a waver in his voice. You were so close you could almost hear the sound of his real voice. His words were tender and sincere.

Your breath hitched and a realization washed over you.

He pulled back and you pulled yourself out of his neck with wide eyes. Cold metal met your forehead.

“You mean far too much to me.”

For a man of few words, he still said so much. Your hand brushed below the rim of his helmet. “I love you, Din,” you confessed.

Your heart pounded as you waited for his response—for even the sharpest intake of breath. But, it was silent—all but your heart remained still as he processed your words. Your hand slipped away, back to the safety of your personal bubble, which was beginning to shrink as the silence became an oppressive weight on your shoulders.

Say something, you wanted to shout. Did you read his words wrong? Was it just appreciation for his… employee?

“Close the curtains and turn off the light.”

Your brows furrowed and you cocked your head to the side. “What?”

“Please.”

You stood with a frown and shuffled to shut the curtains, then made your way to the light switch. You took one last glance over your shoulder, before flipping the switch and submerging the room in darkness. You could hardly see his silhouette as you shuffled back to the bed with your hands out in front.

A calloused hand found your wandering ones, carefully pulling you down to sit beside him once again, not letting go. Then, you heard a click and a hiss, like he was detaching his—

Your eyes widened when you realized what he was doing and you tried pulling away. Even in the darkness, where shadows fell across the silhouette of his body, you couldn’t risk seeing him—no matter how curious.

“Din, no-”

“It’s alright,” he reassured. The low rasp of his voice was no longer modified by his helmet. He chased after you in the dark; his hand moved to the back of your neck, drawing your face closer to his. You could feel the warmth of his breath brushing across your lips.

The smell of caf and leather drew you closer you and you fell into its embrace. It was your safety, your haven—the home you found in him, along with his son and his beaten-down ship.

“ Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner cyar’ika, ” he whispered into the darkness, gentle devotion laced in his words. “ I love you .”

When he kissed you, it was slow, a tender meeting of lips which you both relaxed into. The weight off your shoulders disappeared and all you could do was smile against his lips and draw him closer.

That night you traced his features in the dark, committing every outline and curve to memory, with a content smile and full heart while he held you close. You didn’t need to see his face to love him; it could wait—forever if it meant you’d still have him.

“You know,” he said in the darkness with you tucked close under his arm, “you wield a hammer well. It reminds me of someone I know.”

“Really? Who?”

It was nearly a full cycle before you met the Armorer, the mysterious figure Din would mention from time to time, a woman he seemed to respect.

You were nervous. Though he never said it directly, she was like a maternal figure and you wanted to make a good impression.

Ever since Trask, the two of you were closer than ever. He had no reservations when it came to you. His hand would lay firmly against your lower back as he crowded around you, guiding you through busy markets, pulling you close whenever someone bumped into you. You no longer slept alone, trading out your flimsy sleeping bag for a cozy spot in his bed. At night when the lights were out, you’d finally get to kiss him and share dreams.

The covert was located on a barren planet. You wouldn’t have guessed there was any life if it weren’t for the scattered Mandalorian sparing at the mouth of a cave.

By the time you landed near the lake, only two Mandalorians emerged to greet you.

“It’s been a while.” A large, blue man said upon approaching, greeting the three of you with a simple nod. He towered over everyone, a mass of muscle and armor that radiated intimidation.

As he approached, your foot slid back as you bent your neck to meet his visor and you bumped into Din. He rested a hand on your shoulder. “This is Paz, my brother.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, sticking a hand out.

The hand that takes yours is firm; he shook once and let go. The hand on your shoulder squeezed.

“It seems your clan has grown.” The figure to Paz’s right spoke, her visor trained on the hand over your shoulder. You needed no introduction for her. It was obvious in the way she spoke, authoritative and clear, that she was the Armorer.

Your lips quirked. A clan, huh?

She welcomed you briefly and Din requested a private audience in her forge. When Din handed Grogu off to you, he said, “Stay with Paz, cyar’ika.”

“Cyar’ika?” The Armorer paused. “Have you claimed them as your riduur?”

You cast Din a curious glance. Riduur?

“I… haven’t,” he said carefully.

“I see.” She resumed her pace and disappeared into the cave.

Din followed, not before pressing his forehead to yours. It was like a kiss, he explained once. You were fine with it. You knew as soon as the day was over, he’d make up for all the kisses you’d missed out on.

“He seems to like you.”

“I would hope so,” you quipped, turning to Paz once Din was out of sight. “He loves me, after all.”

You finally got your well-deserved vacation—on a planet called Pabu, with bright blue skies and a sparkling blue ocean—and more than you could have ever wished for.

Gentle waves lapped at your bare feet as you leaned back against the palm of your hands to soak in the last of the dying sun.

Relaxing like this felt rare and fleeting; part of you was worried some other danger would rear its ugly head and ruin the tranquility. But, a quick glance toward Grogu, who was splashing in the water, and Din, standing watch to make sure he didn’t snatch up any crabs as a snack, dispelled any worry and replaced it with a warmth that spread through your chest like the sun's rays.

You cracked a smile at the Mandalorian who was barefoot as well, after you convinced him to step into the waves, with his pants rolled up to the bottom of his knees.

“Stop that,” came Din’s chastising demand. Grogu was levitating a poor crab toward his mouth before letting it fall back into the water with a grumble, his ears pulled back as he looked up at his father with a pout. “You’ll ruin your dinner,” he reasoned, reaching down to scoop the fussing child from the water.

You stood, wiping away sand clinging to your thighs, and walked over to the pair. Din’s helmet followed you as you approached, his shoulders were far more relaxed than you’d ever seen them.

Even when you stood in front of them, finger brushing along Grogu’s ear as he cooed, his gaze did not stray. You just thought it was your bathing suit; it showed off more skin than usual. Which, you admit, you hoped would catch his attention.

“Problem?” You teased, looking at him with a sly smile.

He shook his head slowly. He was uncharacteristically quiet, more so than usual. Ever since his private chat with the Armorer, he’d been distracted. Staring more than usual—at you, the controls of the ship, the floor—like he was lost deep in thought.

You looked out at the sunset, a wash of orange and gold against a glittering sea. You let out a wistful sigh. “I could spend forever here with you two.”

“You mean that?”

“Nothing would make me happier.”

His hand drifted toward the pouch on his belt, fingering the hem. A nervous habit, you assumed, he picked up after visiting the Armorer.

You rested your hand on his and asked, “Are you sure there’s no problem?”

“Marry me.”

You froze, mouth agape.

“M-marry you?”

“I wish for more days like today, too—safe, peaceful days together with our son.” He opened his pouch and pulled out a silver ring that glittered against the setting sun, reminding you of his armor.

Your hand slipped from his to your mouth, covering up the shock written across your face. Your watering eyes moved between the two who’ve grown so close to your heart. They were your life, your home, and you’d spend forever with them. You knew your answer—you’ve always known, ever since he asked you to join them. In your heart it was always—

“Yes,” you cried, throwing your arms around the two of them. “Yes, absolutely!”

You stayed tucked in his arms with Grogu nestled between the two of you. And, in the foreground of a golden sky, he asked if you would cite the Mandalorian vows.

Riduur, he said, you would be mine, and I you. Our hearts will be written together in song.

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.”

Finally, he was no longer just the Mandalorian or Din, he was your riduur.

#the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #gn!reader #my works

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cherryslyce · 2 years ago

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Second Son (XVI) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The soul-tracking ritual ensues, and Anders has a precarious idea.

Part XV / Part XVII / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :). Sincerely hoping this chapter doesn't glitch again.

The excitement of performing the soul-tracking ritual wore off rather quickly when you realized that you had to draw out all of the runes since Anders was unable to crouch down. It was an extensive process and each character had to be extremely precise, causing your fingers to cramp up rather quickly.

Your feet were feeling fuzzy as the circulation in your legs started to suffer from your position, your knees cracking noisily with every shuffle you took to continue mapping out the ritual circle.

“I can’t feel my legs anymore.” You whined, upper body flopping down as you braced yourself with your palms.

Anders grunts from in front of you, “You’re not even halfway there yet, and careful you almost smudged the Dagaz.” His drawl has you huffing, head instinctually snapping to the side to make sure you didn’t actually smear anything.

“Easy for you to say, you’re sitting on a bloody stool while I’m hunched over, practically shining your boots!” Your exasperation was painted across your face, words spewing out in a mixture of annoyance and jest.

The man rolls his eyes and rubs a hand over his knee, the joint no doubt aching, “Careful loyal vassal of mine, I am graciously offering you my help after all,” his tone of amusement melts away and he suddenly grows serious, “but it is imperative that we do this quickly.”

You huff and adjust your position, swinging your head up to look at the man in curiosity, “Why’s that?”

Anders’ face is darkened with a grim frown, and he peers down at the papers on his laps, “You said that those buddies of yours were going to kill Tom, right?”

“Yes…” Your uncertain tone has you fidgeting with your wand habitually, eyes flickering between the window of the room and the man in front of you.

“Well he’s puppeting the inferis with his magic, so they’ll undoubtedly be reduced to husks once he’s gone. So we need to hurry,” Anders elucidates, mouth set into a firm line as he delved deeper into his thoughts.

Putting a hand up, you blink owlishly at the man, “This is too much information. So, not only are inferis still housing their original souls – but you’re saying that it's Voldemort’s magic that’s tying these souls down to the land of the living?”

You didn’t know whether you wanted to curse the detestable man into oblivion or begrudgingly allow yourself to be grateful that his existence meant Regulus’ soul was still with you.

Well, he was chaining down hundreds of souls for his own selfish desires – so you were leaning towards wanting to stick your hand through his head.

“Only the inferis of his own creation, but yes, in theory.” The man looks mildly impressed at your quick thinking.

“Would it be a bad idea to owl Harry and ask him to raincheck on his plans to eviscerate the Dark Lord?” You draw a hand to rub at your forehead, a newfound migraine blooming from the back of your neck and straining across your occiput.

Anders gives you an unimpressed eyebrow raise before waving his hand towards the abandoned quarter-circle behind you, “A terrible idea. Now, let’s continue.”

You finish drawing the ritual circle an hour after sunset.

Your hand was shaking uncontrollably, jerking with every cramp that tugged at your muscles. You had begun sweating at one point, causing Anders to limp over and slide both of the windows open. The cool air bristled through the room and circled around all the loose papers, the sounds of rustling and quiet cruising from the older man flowing around the atmosphere.

As you step back to survey your hard work, you can’t help the smile that plays at your lips: the intricacies of the circle was alluring, practically glowing under the yellow light fixtures above you. The wind began to whistle, and Anders took that as a cue to interrupt your little reprieve, “Looks decent enough.”

“Decent? Have you gone senile since the last time we chatted? This bloody thing is the embodiment of perfection!” You cry out in incredulity, pondering all the ways you could attach the nifty piece of work to your academic portfolio.

Anders rolls his eyes and organizes his papers, “Yes, yes, you’re practically a Runes Master. Take a picture of it, why don’t ya?”

Playfully narrowing your eyes at his back, you go to retort, but a knock at the door has you pausing just as you open your mouth. Sharing a look with Anders, you carefully move to investigate, only cracking the door open marginally in order to hide your work.

It wouldn’t do you much good to have the neighbors thinking you were summoning something.

“Luna?” Your squawk of surprise only causes the girl to smile, eyes darting over your head as her gaze seems to fade in and out of fixation.

Bouncing on her heels, she reaches into her pocket, “So, you’re done?”

“Yeah, I finished drawing up the circle. I think the old man wants to perform the actual ritual tonight though, so I won’t see you until tomorrow.” You exhale tiredly and murmur to yourself, “If I wake up, that is.”

Luna nods quickly and pulls out a few items from her coat, “I see. Well, I’ve brought some things. I was told that you were in need of this as well by the Humdingers” In her outstretched hands, you see a couple of wrapped sandwiches and a small camera.

“What?” You gape and slowly reach forwards, “Where did you get a camera from, little moon?”

The girl smiles brightly and fiddles with her coat buttons, “I asked Asger.” You nod in appreciation and smile at the girl, waving with your full hands as she gracefully skips away towards the house.

You retreat back into the room and brandish the camera at the expectant man with a victorious smirk, “I have great friends.”

Anders grunts and reaches for one of the sandwiches, “That’s my camera, kid.”

You examine the device with your oh so supple fingers, and ignore the urge to stick your tongue out at him, your sensibility winning out for once. As you both eat in silence, your eyes run over the respectable pile of papers in front of Anders, realizing that the man was absolutely serious about publishing your findings.

“What have you got so far?” You nod towards his papers.

His eyes quickly flicker beside him, “Magical essences and the imbuing work your boy did, and now I’m drafting up some pages about inferis and their souls.”

You hum quietly and dust off your hands as you finish the last scraps of your food, feeling more vigilant as your aching stomach settles. The camera was smaller than the jarring flash bulb that Rita Skeeter always had around, and if anything, seemed way more practical.

It was a bit blocky and had a round lens in the center with a small depression that you could only assume was for the flash. The bottom of the camera had a small rectangular slit — an output.

“Polaroid 600. Film is as expensive as it gets, so don’t you go and waste it.” Anders’ quietly mumbles as he gets up from his spot, hands reaching for the camera. As he fiddles around with it for a few moments, the top suddenly seems to prop up and he hands it back to you with a satisfied nod, “Think you know how to operate a camera?”

“I’m not a dunce, thank you very much.” Your riposte causes him to roll his eyes as he gestures for you to move towards the circle. Despite your initial indignance, it took you a few moments of consideration and blind thumbing until you were confident enough to snap the photo. As you (luckily) manage to get a good shot, you conceal your surprise as the photo immediately begins to peek out of the bottom slit, slowly being spat out.

How convenient.

You nimbly pull the photo out once it seems to stop sputtering, and hand the camera over to Anders before peering at the developing square film. Slowly, you watch as the outlines of the ritual circle bloom into visibility.

You take a couple more moments to run your eyes over the photo before placing it in Anders’ awaiting palm. The man hobbles over to his table and clips the photo to one of the pages, placing the camera on the stack of papers afterwards.

“Okay, now put your boy’s photo in the center—next to the Uruz symbol.”

You wordlessly comply with Anders’ words, and slowly tiptoe out of the circle, eyes never straying from Regulus’ face. The man moves to the opposite side of the circle, and pats at the air, gesturing for you to sit down.

Watching from your position on the floor, Anders begins to chant evenly, eyes closed as you feel him begin to gather his magic to pool across the symbols. The faint steely nature of his magical signature washes over you, and you clasp your hands together in your lap as you feel an immense pressure begin to weigh on the room. Regulus’ photo gives a faint jolt, then another, and then another, until the whole paper begins to vibrate.

You watch in awe as the photo slowly rises into the air, the Uruz symbol glowing brightly with a faint red hue. In the blink of an eye, the photo jerks sideways and falls onto the Hic symbol to your left just as Anders’ chanting ceases.

“Hic? Here? What does it mean, here?” Your questions seem to spill out uncontrollably, and you see the older man give the photo a look of consideration.

“I’m not quite sure. Usually, souls still in the realm of the living are classified as Vivus,” Anders mutters, hand coming up to rub at his chin, “Kid, is that ring of yours imbued with his magic?”

You nod and reach for your ring, fingers running over the two snakes that you’ve grown accustomed to. Anders sighs before slapping his hand over his entire face, dragging it down as he seems to wage an internal war with himself.

“You said your boy was in a cave?”

You raise an eyebrow at him, and nod slowly, “Yes…and so are hundreds of other inferis, why?”

The man meets you gaze with a determined look as you slowly stand up, hands fiddling with your ring.

“Well, let’s go fetch your boy.”

The journey back to the cave was bittersweet, and you almost lost your footing as you apparated to the very spot you had before, except this time with a rather grumpy presence by your side. Water batted against the rock you were rooted to, droplets of water flying into your face periodically. You could barely make out the view in front of you as the moon faintly illuminated the waves.

As you apparate with Anders to the shore, you feel a lump grow in your throat. Your heart was beating violently against your chest, and a cold sweat started to break through the surface of your skin.

The muted crunching of sand and rocks under your shoes grounded you to reality as the void of the cave engulfed you, washing away the sea of stars that had been beaming at you from above.

“Lumos.”

As you extended your wand in front of you, you had half the mind to be cautious of potential bloodthirsty death eaters or one psychotic dark lord, realizing that perhaps the certifiable man would be on the upkeep for his horcruxes.

Soon, you both reached the rounded end of the cave, and Anders shoots you an unimpressed look. Holding a hand up at him, you extinguish your lumos and bring your wand to your palm, “Secare.”

Dragging the tip of your wand against your palm, the spell slowly cuts your skin enough to draw blood. Satisfied with your work, you swipe your bloodied cut against the damp rocks behind you.

“Lumos.”

The wall of charcoal stone crumbles away like you remembered, and you’re immediately met with a wave of faint heat.

Remnants of your fire storm from last time?

“Bloody hell,” Anders croaks from behind you, eyes glimmering at the sight of the sumptuous crystal clusters. The milky geodes sent a shiver down your spine as you started to draw a resemblance between their geometric planes and the cloudy skin of the inferis.

Making your way through the dark ventricle of minerals, you slowly emerge into the belly of the cave, the familiar void of water just meters away from you.

“We’re here. They’re in there,” your voice falls into a whisper, “he’s in there.”

Anders steps out from behind you and pulls out his own wand, the worn ashen wood barely visible in the light of your lumos. Tilting his head towards you, he looks at you with a solemn gaze before asking, “His full name?”

“Regulus Arcturus Black.”

Nodding, the man turns towards the lake and moves his wand counterclockwise, “Prodire Regulus Arcturus Black.”

Nothing happens for a few seconds, until abruptly — something breaks through the surface of the water and flies towards your awaiting figures, stilling to a stop in front of Anders as if colliding with an invisible wall. Your hand swings to cover your mouth as your eyes trail along the spindly creature: its body was slack in the air, arms stiff like milky needles, chest unnaturally thin with a protruding rib cage that threatened to burst through bruised skin, and a rawboned face veiled by the darkness.

This thing was Regulus?

You felt your world begin to tip and spin, eyes burning then blurring rapidly. Shivers wracked through your chest as sobs seemed to well in your throat. Closing your eyes, you try to steady your breathing, but the flashing image of Regulus’ face and then the sight of the horrid creature infiltrate your head.

It feels as though a millennia of your discombobulation passes by before you feel a firm grip on your shoulder, the gesture helping to keep you upright on your feet.

“Come on, kid,” Anders’ face comes into view and you see his eyes soften uncharacteristically, his mouth set into a hard frown. Your eyes stray to the side and you see that the man had summoned a cloth to cover the inferi during your small episode, the lumpy bundle now floating in the air nearby.

Nodding quickly, you swallow harshly before spinning around, “Right. Sorry.” Your whisper is met with a comforting silence, and you appreciated more than ever, Anders’ ability to know when words weren’t needed.

As you both stiffly trek back through the cave, you begin to feel a weight of foreboding blanket your body. Picking up the pace, you step out of the mouth of the cave with sweaty hands, eyes darting around wildly.

“Hurry,” your choked whisper confuses the older man, but he abides nonetheless. As you grab his forearm and hesitantly grab a part of the covered inferi, you hear a faint warping echo from off to the side.

Gasping quietly into the chilly air, you barely catch a glimpse of the familiar figure before you’re tugged away by the distortion of apparition. You can barely breathe as your heart seems to stutter uncontrollably.

You land back inside the research room with Anders and Regulus’ inferi, not even noticing how cramped the space now was as you tried to quell your panic.

“Kid? What’s wrong?” Anders floats the clothed figure down into the center of the circle as you buckle to the ground, blood flushing cold.

“Voldemort. He was there.” You gasp out.

The man jolts to a paralyzed freeze as his eyes widen comically, his heart no doubt beginning to race as fast as yours. You shake your head jerkily and wave your hand aimlessly, “He didn’t see you. Or well, you were covered by the cloth, but he definitely noticed me.”

The dryness of your mouth was beginning to prickle and itch, your skin suddenly feeling too tight on your body. You were sure he recognized you, after all, he was always in Harry’s head.

“Then we just have to hurry a bit.” Anders' steady words have you snapping your attention over to him, confused as to why he was so calm now. Seeing your distraught gaze, he sighs, “He won’t come for you for now, I’m sure he is focused on your other friends. Besides, even if he were, he has no idea where to even look.”

Nodding with an unconvinced frown, you feel your fear melt away into a stony resolve, eyes flickering over to look at the figure laying in the circle.

“Thank you, Anders.” Your dry whisper has him cracking a small smile.

“Thank me when your boy is back up and running.”

You were robotically drawing more rune characters, eyes unfocused as you were too entranced by your thoughts. You weren’t sure what the older man was planning as he hadn’t explained to you what this additional ritual entailed, but you were determined to make it work.

As you complete the last etching, head rising up to look at the concentrated man, he finally breaks the tense atmosphere, “I don’t know if it’ll work, but the combination of his soul and your ring might just do the trick.”

Tilting your head to the side, you try not to sound too hopeful, “So, he’ll be completely recovered if it works?”

“Not completely, he’ll need time to rejuvenate his magical core. This would be unprecedented, kid. I don’t have all the answers, and I can’t promise that it will work, but I am going to do my best.” His eyes are unwavering, back straightened with coiled tension.

You nod hastily, knowing that you were both pretty much running on wishes. As Anders double checks your rune work, you slowly slip your ring off your finger, cringing as the cold air brushes against your naked finger.

You hadn’t ever taken it off before.

Placing the cool band next to the covered figure, you step out of the circle and clench your hands. Anders nods in confirmation before stepping out as well, slowly hobbling over to stand on the opposite side of the circle.

“Let your magic funnel out into the circle as well. You won’t need to chant.” Anders' brief words have you nodding, and you slowly shuffle from leg to leg, fatigue starting to seep into your veins.

The chanting begins soon after, and you allow the metaphorical valves of your magical core to open, feeling the coolness of your magic sweeping to tangle with Anders’ metallic magic. Both of your magical signatures dance around the circle and collect in the center, flexing together above the figure. The entire rune circle seems to radiate in shades of reds and stormy greys before blazing into an endless black.

Suddenly, you feel magic seep from the clothed figure — a deep, harrowing magic that roused with a small rumble before erupting into a suffocating cloud that could only be described as numbing.

It was nothing like Regulus’ magic, which meant that this corrupted energy belonged to Voldemort. You grit your teeth as you flush out more of your magic to try and drive away Voldemort’s lingering signature, the psychopath’s magic seeming to screech violently at your attempt.

The prolonged battle with the stifling magic finally ends as the dark cloud is ripped away from you, pulled in all directions towards the additional runes you drew, the characters radiating in almost a blinding way before ripping apart the corrupted magic.

The once dark circle stews into a cool grey before disintegrating into a pale green, the light beating melodically. You watch in wonderment as the magic in the ring bubbles into your magic, intertwining with yours before slowly clutching at Anders’ as well. Your potent whirl of combined magic slowly descends towards the clothed figure, causing it to jerk wildly.

The cloth shuffles with the movements and you see it begin to pull upwards as if the inferi was arching towards your magic. Suddenly, the strings of magic slam into the clothed figure, sending shockwaves throughout the room.

As you hear a few books tumble to the ground at the energy, the figure twitches once more before falling still again. Anders continues to chant for a few more moments as the circle flares into a blinding white light before it, too, simmered into nothingness.

You nearly topple over in exhaustion as the energy draws back into your body, the synergies of magic in the room evaporating almost instantaneously. Anders wipes his forehead with his sleeve, and shakily stumbles over to his table for stability.

“Did it work?” Your voice is crackly as a sharp, sticky pain climbs up your neck.

The man huffs and glances at you before slowly making his way towards the figure, grunting as he tries to crouch down. He tugs the cloth upward and peers inside, expression unreadable.

“Well?”

Anders looks up at you, eyebrows drawn, “I have a lot more to write about.”

Leaping forward at his words, you rip away the cloth slightly to expose the figure’s head, and you nearly pass out on the spot.

“It worked. It worked. It worked.” Your quiet chants spurs on a wave of tears as you slowly run your fingers over Regulus’ face. The boy looked picturesque in his sleeping state, face no longer emaciated and bruised, but now mirroring his appearance from when he was just a portrait in your pocket.

You brush his curls aside and resist the urge to just keel over and fall asleep on him, your magical exhaustion echoing through your bones.

“Do you have something else on you that’s imbued with his magic?” Anders’ quiet words have you snapping out of your euphoric state, eyes drawn up in confusion. Seeing your perplexity, he clarifies, “He might not remember you, this ritual simply revitalized him and unchained his soul. He might only remember the events before his death.”

You pause at the revelation and sit up straighter, hands dropping to your sides. Gaping for a few moments, your mind whirs as you try and grasp for the right words, “Uh, wait, yes. I have these.” Your hands fish into your pockets and you pull out the tattered pieces of the golden portrait frame, outstretching them for the man to see.

“His portrait frame?” Anders’ eyebrows shoot up in stupefaction.

Nodding, you slowly drop the pieces into his rough palm, “It doesn’t matter.” The man frowns, puzzled, so you continue, “As long as he’s okay, it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t remember me.”

Straightening up from his position, he stares at the pieces of wood in his hand, “He just might remember… if these are truly imbued with his magic.” Looking up, you see skepticism flicker in his eyes, “Are you too beat for another ritual?”

“You should be asking yourself that, old man.”

You don’t remember much that happens afterwards.

As you crack your eyes open, lingering fatigue weighing on your eyelids, you are keenly aware of a hand running across your shoulders.

“Reg?” Your voice comes out as a strained whisper.

A familiar face pops into your line of sight, “He’s okay, just resting upstairs.” Luna’s smile warms your chest, and you resist the urge to turn over and bury yourself into the warmth of her arms.

Your body was incredibly sore from the activities of the previous day, and you were sure that your magical core was rolling about, emptily inside of you. The longer you laid, the more groggy you grew as the air started to warm against your skin.

Gently pushing up from the mattress underneath you, you run a hand down your place as Luna shifts to stand up. The girl helps you shuffle upstairs and towards the bathroom, quietly insisting that you wash up as she prepares tea for you.

Sluggishly washing up, you take a moment to peer into the cloudy mirror, raising an eyebrow at the sight of heavy bags under your eyes. Your shoulders sagged from exhaustion, and the sound of your grumbling stomach prompted you to make your way towards the kitchen.

As you slowly trudged into the room, eyes squinting from the beams of sunlight that flitted through the window, you see Asger approach you with a plate in hand.

“Good afternoon. Dad’s in his research shed right now.” The man extends the plate to you, and your mouth waters at the sight of the hearty lunch. You nod in thanks and drop down onto an awaiting chair, gaze straying towards one of the closed doors down the hall.

Asger, seeing your restless ministrations, chuckles before answering your unvoiced question, “He’s in there. Hasn’t awakened yet, but Dad said it’s only a matter of time. He's recovering quite fast.”

Right, your rituals worked. Both of them. It was starting to come back now, and you could feel the weight of the frame pieces and your ring in your pocket, both now depleted of Regulus’ magic.

Scarfing down your meal, and ignoring Asger’s cringe, you start to mentally debate on whether you should visit Anders first, or Regulus. Luna places a mug in front of you, and plops down into the seat next to yours, fingers fiddling with a few strings of yarn.

Regulus won out, of course.

As you dismiss yourself with endless words of gratitude to your two friends, you slowly make your way into the room Regulus was resting in. You cross through the threshold, mug in hand, and immediately surrender yourself to the comforting wave of magic that envelops you.

The warm magic — Regulus’ magic, brings tears to your eyes, and you have to take a few moments to compose yourself. The aching hollowness in your heart, the one you had grown accustomed to in the following months after the destruction of his portrait, seems to sing with inklings of joy.

You were still in a state of disbelief, mind reeling from the fact that you not only discovered uncharted branches of magic, but also that you got Regulus back. No, not only you — Sirius was going to get Regulus back, too.

The boy in question was laid on a makeshift bed, covered by a fleece blanket. Anders took up the great responsibility of clothing him after your flustered realization that he was nude, the man murmuring tidbits about how he did the same for Asger when the younger man fractured his hip years ago.

You walk over and sit down by his side, brushing your hand over his hair.

Things would change now. They would be better.

You spend a long while just sitting by the boy’s side, mind still unconvinced that he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.

After a long thread of thoughts that devolved into heart wrenching what if’s, you decide to pay a visit to Anders, immensely grateful for his help and wisdom. The sunny skies slowly dimmed as clouds drifted by, the air chilling to sooth the faint migraine that still sunk its claws into your head.

As you make your way into the research room, you can’t mask the smile that stretches across your lips. Anders was hunched over his table, hand moving furiously across a sea of pages as he tried to document every droplet of theory and fact on the papers. Not wanting to interrupt the man’s train of thought, you linger by the doorway before slowly teetering towards a fallen stack of books.

You organize the endless towers of tomes for a few minutes before Anders takes note of your presence as he goes to stretch his back.

“Finally awake?” His voice is light, and you could see the remnants of engrossment creeping in his eyes. He truly did have a passion for this branch of research.

You nod and grin brightly at the man, “Sure am. Now, are you going to accept my thank you?”

Anders grunts and waves you off with an amused eye roll — the closest thing to a “you’re welcome” in his language, and turns back to his papers, “Anyway, another owl came for you this morning. The letter should be on your stool.”

As the man resumes his writing, you peer around to try and find the envelope, clicking your tongue when you find the paper beaming at you from across the room.

Dear Padfoot’s pup,

We hope you are well. At first, we weren’t going to accept the offer, but some unexpected events happened that forced us away. We are safe now with the frightening widow. We’ve gotten two more, but now the Goblins hate us.

Stay safe. We are going to remain here until we are forced to confront the darkness. Unfortunately, we fear that it will be soon.

We miss you. Padfoot keeps whining, we think he misses you most.

-Prongslet and co.

You laugh lightly at the contents of the letter, and you fold the paper back up. Good to know that Harry and the others were safe with the Contessa at the very least. As you stuff the paper back in the envelope, you see another folded paper sidled against the wall of the envelope.

Hello lost friend of mine,

A certain dragon of ours is growing restless, we fear that his blood father is in trouble with a certain man. The Carrows are a nightmare, and it appears that many students are disappearing with every passing day. Theodore keeps shooting down my (entirely plausible) theory that those twin professors of ours are hiding their bodies in a dark closet somewhere.

I’ve received a letter from my mother informing me of the rearrangements at home, and I must say, it was quite a surprise. I haven’t heard back from you since you’ve departed, and I almost thought you were dead for a while. Glad to hear that you aren’t.

Theodore says hi, and he wants to know all the research you’ve done. Our dragon also says hi and that he hopes you received his last letter.

I hope to hear from you soon.

(Reply to me.)

-B

“Was it a tawny owl?” Your question rings out into the quiet atmosphere, drawing Anders out of his work.

The man gives you a grunt of confirmation and you nod in satisfaction. It would appear that Harry is corresponding to you via Contessa Zabini, the woman no doubt telling Blaise to forward the letter to you along with his.

Merlin, what a strange web of dynamics.

As you tuck away the papers into your pockets, a knock has you spinning on your heel in curiosity. Anders barely even looks up from his work as you make your way to the door, a wave of deja vu slamming into you.

Opening the door, you see Luna smiling brightly at you, similar to her airy demeanor from the night before.

Before you can get a word out, the girl quickly supplies you with news that has air fleeing from your lungs, “He’s awake.”

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txorua @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke @summer-noir @mikeikax @musically-ambiguous @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @friendly-neighborhood-boricua @randomfaeriechild @misacc08 @that-bitch-bri @littleshadow17 @chocochannie @bl4stonesc @shari-berri

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yokohamapound · 2 years ago

Note

Since it'd been so cold out, can we have some hcs of getting warm and cosy with Dazai, Ranpo, Akutagawa, Chuuya, Fyodor and Oda, please?

Hey, perfect ask for this time of year~ I hope you enjoy these! - FungusWitch

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Edogawa Ranpo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Nakahara Chuuya, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Oda Sakunosuke

Contents: gn!reader, fluffy shit

Dazai Osamu

While Dazai likes to lounge around, what we've seen of his living spaces seems to be rather spartan. He has a futon and a table and that's basically it. He'd happily sleep on the floor if he had to. This is the guy who used to live in a shipping container after all. If you two are going to get cosy anywhere, it's going to be at your place.

That's not to say he doesn't appreciate all the touches that make your house a home. He has a habit of throwing himself dramatically across your bed or your couch and disturbing the throw pillows.

And tossing them at you when you least expect it.

"Why are they called throw pillows, if they're not for throwing? Think fast!"

His usual tomfoolery aside, Dazai takes any opportunity to be close to you and soak up your attention like a thirsty plant, so if you wanna get down and cosy, he's all for it. You're in a relationship with Dazai, so you'll likely be one of the few people he can shut off around and just be himself to some extent.

He just wants to stretch his long skinny legs out on the couch, rest his head on your lap, and either sleep or reread his well-thumbed suicide theory book for the hundredth time. If you occasionally want to fish a marshmallow out of your hot chocolate and stuff it into his mouth, well, that's fine with him.

Dim lights, warm blankets, mindless TV shows. <3

Ranpo Edogawa

Okay, you've all seen that episode of WAN! where Ranpo shuts himself in his locker with all his candy, right? One of the best ways to get nice and cosy with Ranpo is to build a den, whether it's in the bedroom or the living room. Build it, stuff it full of blankets and cushions.

Make sure there are enough snacks. No, that's not enough. You're gonna need some more. More! More, I say! Okay, that'll do.

Drag the TV to the edge of the den, charge up whatever games console(s) you've got, and prepare to hibernate for the weekend.

Like anyone, he'll want personal space sometimes, but that doesn't mean he won't spend the majority of his time cuddling or being cuddled. As long as his hands are free to hold a controller or a snack or a book, he's a happy little gremlin.

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

You're going to need a dictionary definition of the word "cosy" around to explain the concept to Akutagawa. Just look at him: he's all cold, sharp edges. He never takes much thought for his own personal comfort, beyond making sure he has Rashoumon on his back to protect himself.

Being in a relationship does give him an avenue to explore a few more creature comforts without being seen as "weak". Mainly by blaming it all on you.

He doesn't need extra blankets on the bed and throw pillows everywhere. That's all your fault. You're the one who brought the fancy teas and hot chocolate, not Akutagawa. If he so happens to make use of them, that's beside the point.

He has to be in a very specific mood to allow you to cuddle up with him on the couch. A cold winter night is your best bet, since he can see the logic in huddling up together for warmth. Yes, you have central heating, but he's pointedly choosing to ignore that. Enjoying life's pleasantries takes a lot of cognitive dissonance for Akutagawa.

He sits stiffly on the couch, his arms folded, as you nestle in beside him with your blankets. If some of it so happens to drape across him, well, he cannot be bothered to remove it. If you made him a cup of that hot chocolate that smells so good, he has no choice but to drink it. It would be wasteful otherwise. It doesn't matter how many times he tells you not to make it for him, you never seem to learn.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya will make fun of you for being cold, calling you a "little baby", amongst other charmingly condescending things, but these will be accompanied by him draping his coat-covered arm around you, like he's literally taking you under his wing.

I personally believe that having he probably runs a couple degrees warmer than a regular human, like a side-effect of having a literal god living rent-free inside you. This boy is toasty.

His penthouse won't necessarily give you "cosy" vibes, especially not the first couple of times you go there. Chuuya's a guy in his early twenties with a lot of money to throw around. Some of his crib is stereotypically rich boy man cave. Leather, chrome, glass, whathaveyou. It's mostly after you move in that some softer furnishings start to appear. He doesn't mind this, btw. It makes him lowkey giddy to have you adding your personal touch to his shared space...as long as your taste isn't too wildly different from his. He might object to Lisa Frank-style microfibre blankets, for example. He still has some appearances to keep up in case any one comes round.

While he loves going out on the town or for long drives, a night in is often appreciated, especially when it's cold and the weather is shitty. If you don't feel like cooking, he'll order bougie takeout, open a bottle of wine, and sprawl out on the couch with you on his lap.

Yes, you have to sit on his lap, even if you're taller than him. I don't make the rules.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor is a man of contradictions. As a Russian, you would assume he is a little more acclimatised to the cold than your average person, but he also suffers from some form of anaemia, which can lead to circulatory difficulties. I imagine his hands and feet are always cold. He doesn't seem to take any special measures to correct his, such as wearing gloves, so perhaps it truly doesn't bother him.

That doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy warmth. Far from it. Just look at his little ushanka.

While he may not always have the time or inclination to show you physical affection, when he is in the mood for it, he wants you close to him.

This might take the form of allowing you to climb into his lap and cuddle up with him while he's working, curled into him while the glow of multiple screens flickers across his face. You might fall asleep there, and wake back in your shared bed, only to find him still working late into the night, feverish with plans.

Or it might be warm blankets, pots of tea, chess games he always wins, books falling apart from age in his chilly hands, while he talks about philosophies and ideals you struggle to keep up with but enjoy nonetheless.

Oda Sakunosuke

Oda is one who enjoys the simple creature comforts in life. You'll pick this up about him if you spend enough time around him. He doesn't particularly care about luxury or high-end things. It can be the most mundane day and he'll still appreciate it if it's with you.

This is a man who will cherish quiet evenings in, cooking a meal together (often curry, unless he had it for lunch), huddling up on the couch together, and reading your respective books. Or you might be sprawled on the couch, watching TV, while he sits on the floor next to you, using the coffee table as a makeshift desk while he writes.

Like pretty much everyone who's been through the Port Mafia, he's touch-starved , but he's much healthier about it. I guarantee you, there is no bad time to lay hands on this man. You can drape yourself over this man like a blanket and he's happy to exist like that. (This is also because he's unlikely to startle from being touched suddenly like Akutagawa might. Being able to see a few seconds into the future helps cut down on the accidental jump scares.)

#Yokohama Pound #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #Dazai Osamu #Nakahara Chuuya #Oda Sakunosuke #Fyodor Dostoevsky #Edogawa Ranpo #Akutagawa Ryuunosuke #bsd x reader #FungusWitch

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luffyvace · 1 year ago

Text

Nico Robin x morbid gn reader headcanons :)

robin needs more attention i love her

she’s not underrated she just needs more <3

oh wow! your just like her!

if you make comments like she does the rest of the straw hats are gonna go crazy

you creep everyone out

especially if your a more serious/calm person like her

or even if your smiley

its all the more worse

”but if we don’t make it and fall off the cliff we’ll die from head trauma! :D”

oh goodness gracious

your scaring ME now

robin wouldn’t mind and would giggle if you make a joke out of it

but if you say it with a straight face like her

you’ll freak everyone out

if your a masculine energy person nami is more likely to hit you for it

”stop creeping everyone out!!”

you guys are the dark duo

if you do it to creep people out on purpose she would find it amusing

but if your genuinely interested in darker themes..

she has a few good books to recommend you ;)

no matter how creepy it is she won’t get freaked out by anything you say

its likely your the same with her

if you genuinely enjoy talking about grim things

she’d listen all day and not get tired of it

shes a very good listener in general

especially for her s/o

she would expect you to allow her to ramble back to you though

but with her it’s gonna take

and i mean it

although it’s a fair exchange since no one else really wants to hear you talk about your theories and rants about death n dismal or what not

she’ll comfort you if you get/used to get picked on for having such morbid thoughts

or again, just listen if no one else wants to hear such gloomy comments

she’ll slap a stranger with an extra arm if they’re dramatic about it

”no one wants to hear all that gloom and doom n crap! shut up already!”

slap slap!

”what the- who just slapped me?!”

it’s funny since they don’t know what happened and it usually gets you in a good mood again

but if your thoughts are more murky and you don’t like it

she’ll encourage you!

she’s never wrong in a argument 😭

so she’ll give you reasons to think on the bright side that you can’t deny

”maybe you did loose that fight, but you certainly won the war dear! look! you now have plenty of beli to spend on the new book collection you wanted! isn’t that great?”

you can’t really argue with that tbh

“you loose some you win some, i’ve learned that very well”

she’s always there for you no matter what type of person you are

which is why robin is wifey material

if your willing give up winning arguments

go get yourself a robin!

enjoy! these were very fun to write, and surprisingly didn’t take long!

robin>>

#anime #anime and manga #one piece ace x reader #one piece #one piece robin #nico robin x reader #nico robin #nico robin headcanons #one piece headcanons #anime headcanons #luffyvace #robin #shes so pretty #she’s so beautiful #she’s so cool #i love her #straw hat pirates #straw hats

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cerealkiddie · 1 year ago

Text

layla x gn!regressor!reader

self indulgent content <3 headcanons and a little scenario, big sis!layla

loves you so much (a given)

her fav activity is taking naps with you, no matter how short or long they are she enjoys cuddling with you. your soft snores and gentle breaths get her to get some rest as well.

rambling about stars and outer space !?!

stargazing on weekends when she's finished her school work and you're allowed up past ur usual bedtime :3

enjoys taking care of you because it helps her take care of herself (she needs lots rest)

makes ur snacks themed like stars somehow

how do you always find her when she's sleepwalking? managing to pull her back to bed

"la la, back to seep!" your little tugs on her pj's and whisper yells never fail to wake her up and take you back to bed with intertwined hands <3

endearments such as: starlight, little star, moonshine

star shaped snacks?!? imagine helping her make ur snacks. star shaped cookie cutter for apple slices n cookies!

she adores hearing your imagined stories of how some constellations came to have their names and such.

has a collection of every 'moon rock' and star shaped pebble you find.

sweet cinnamon milk before bed.

hangs up the pictures you draw for her.

definitely questions ur theories of celestia and her name as well.

you guys probably have the softest cuddliest bed ever. stars painted on the ceiling

ddlg/abdl/nsfw/variants dni! add any of ur own headcanons in the comments or reblogs ! post belongs to me ☆

#genshin agere #agere genshin #agere fanfic #age regressor #agere blog #sfw agere #age regression #agere community #i dont play genshin but i love her sm #genshin layla #layla genshin impact #agere reader #.drowsy writes

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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 2 years ago

Note

Hello! I hope you are doing great 💖

May I get fluff headcanons for Dabi, Shigaraki, Hawks, and Miruko ((BNHA)) with a touch-starved reader?

Thank you 🐈

Hello Anon! Absolutely you can get some fluff headcanons! Thank you for the request!

Pairings: Dabi, Keigo Takami (Hawks), Rumi Usagiyama (Mirko), Shigaraki x gn! Reader (separate)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We all need affection. So how do the characters go about it with a touch starved Reader?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alright, this guy is touch-starved as well so there going to be a lot of mutual comfort here.

Because of his...less than ideal childhood...he never really got a lot of comfort as a child. So any kind of comfort and gentle physical touch is going to be pretty foreign to him to start with.

Give him time though and he'll warm up to it.

I think his main concern would be his burnt skin and staples. He doesn't want you to be grossed out or have sharp metal digging into you. The last thing he needs is someone else he cares about pushing him away.

Dabi's not too bad at asking for affection. He prefers to just pull you into him but if the situation demands it he's not above asking.

"Hey, c'mere. Wanna hug?"

If you ask for or hint that you want a hug (or any kind of contact really), Dabi's going to tease you as he's moving closer.

Wants to keep his cool façade, but never wants you to feel like he doesn't care. He's been there before and doesn't want you to feel the same way.

Favourite place to spend time in contact with you is on a lounge, soft chair, or bed. Preferably somewhere quiet and away from other people.

One of the clingiest people you will ever have the please of meeting.

Also one of the best at giving hugs.

Hawks is a naturally touchy person so you'll never feel touch starved when you're around him.

This guy somehow always has a hand near you, whether it's to rest it gently against your lower back when he's brushing past you, patting your head when you do a good job with something, or kissing the back of your hand when he just feel like it.

He just likes knowing you're there. It's his way of reassuring himself that you're real.

And if you ask for affection?

Both the teasing and the physical contact get turned up to eleven.

"Aw, does the little bird want some affection? C'mere!"

His whole being goes into those hugs. He wants to make sure you know how much he cares about you.

Hawk's favourite place to be give you hugs and affection in general is standing up somewhere quiet so he can wrap his wings around you as well.

The only person who can compete with Hawks in terms of "the best hugger".

All those muscles mean the hugs are always the perfect tightness and always leave you feeling safe, comfortable, and loved.

I see Mirko as someone who likes physical touch a lot. It's her love language.

She appreciates peoples' boundaries, so if she every goes overboard with the hugs, all you have to do is let her know and she'll dial it back a little.

But let her go wild with the affection, and you'll have a buff rabbit lady clinging to you at every possibly opportunity.

And if it's still not enough affection and you ask her for a hug? You're getting swept up in the biggest tightest hug you've ever gotten from her!

"You want a hug? Sure thing!"

Mirko's favourite place to hug is anywhere comfortable and warm. A bed would probably be her favourite place because it's nice and soft and you two can cuddle up under the blankets if its cold weather.

Really, anywhere with a blanket around the two of you is her favourite place to snuggle.

Canonically the most touch-starved person in all of My Hero Academia.

This is obviously going off the theory that Shigaraki wears those artist-type gloves that only cover two of his fingers, allowing him to touch things safely. He doesn't want you to decay.

He's still very cautious with physical touch so you're going to have to take it slowly with him.

This is a process of learning to accept physical touch for both of you.

He won't usually initiate physical contact so you'll probably have to ask for a hug most of the time. When you do, he'll still be hesitant but will shuffle towards you, holding out his arms.

"Okay, if that's what you want."

He doesn't mean to sound so abrupt. He wants a hug just as much as you do. He just doesn't know how to express his healthy emotions too well yet.

If he does initiate physical contact, don't expect to be escaping his hugs any time soon. He'll hug you tightly enough that you won't want to leave, even if you could. He just needs some love and affection.

Shigaraki doesn't have a favourite place to be in contact with you. He'll take what he can get, when he can get it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hey, did you enjoy this? If you like my writing, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi page! This will allow me to make some money off my writing, something I enjoy doing.

ko-fi.com/justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms

Important Note: Please only donate if you are financially able to. If you are currently in a position where you can't donate, a like, comment, or reblog will mean just as much.

#fanfics #fandom #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #boku no hero academic x reader #my her academia x reader #anime #writing #request #hedcanons #dabi x reader #hawks x reader #mirko x reader #shigaraki x reader

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riveranova · 2 years ago

Text

(A/N): Aaaaand mama's back! First of all, let me say how grateful I was and am to get so many messages from people sharing their stories and wishing me all the best - made me tear up multiple times not gonna lie. Thank you all so much and let's dive right back in. <3

IkePri NSFW Headcanons x GN! Reader - Part 2

Warnings: Smut | minors DNI, would this really be a Nova original if there wasn't at least a lil bit crack?, Licht's getting a little sad

Characters: Chevalier, Luke, Yves, Jin, Licht, Leon, Ikemen Prince

Word count: 690

Chevalier Michel

yk i had a thought for this one

obviously hes a top

but but, hear me out - what if he wasn't?

imagine his cold, blue eyes that normally resemble a frozen lake

well that thick ice is now shattered as he's pressing his head into his pillow, trying not to wake up his annoying brothers (Clavis) while you suck him off

hes a lil bit embarrassed about the way his fists and thighs are clenched together because hes Chevalier Michel, no one makes him this weak

well, exept for you of course

but no one is allowed to find out

i think that hes a little bit bratty as a bottom

like, you want to make him beg? well beg for it.

its kind of a back and forth

but just threaten him to stop and its like a different man lies before you

just imagine him beg for you to get him off in that deep voice

Luke Randolph

i'm a huge suporter of the 'luke only cuddlefucks' theory that a great researcher (me) brought to life

i mean that man sleeps the entire day so why not, right?

he gets horny really fast, just like Gilbert

hes also big, and i dont only mean his body

big boy, gimme a big booooy-

strong hands hold you in place - in front of him, holding you against his chest while slowly fucking you from behind

100% whispers sleepy shit into your ear

honestly so sweet

idk why this is so funny to me but imagine him just falling asleep mid-sex

you're just laying there like '...uh''

lucky for you, this man is into sleep play, so just finish the job yourself~

Yves Kloss

honestly? i think hes one of those really cute and soft tops

soft tops are the best, are they not

but i don't think hes really focused on the sex part

hes a big aftercare guy

he honestly just wants to spoil you and make sure you're all pretty for him

150 step korean skincare routine after every single session without fail

bathing together with him is the most normal thing in the world

hums into your ear while massaging your shoulders

praise praise praise

i honestly think that Yves would be so fucking obsessed with you - in a non-weird way tho

if youre comfortable then he is too <3

Jin Grandet

alright, heres my completely objective take on him

daddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddy

god i love this man so much

crush me with those honke- okay, sorry

i think hes the kind of guy who doesn't want to have one big session but like short ones scattered across the day

lil quickies yk

hes also shameless

so he just pulls you away whenever he wants to and you know what he wants

he has these 'please im so horny its not cool anymore' eyes

and if youre like me then fuck it, leggo

gives zero fucks about how loud you are

castle staff hates it when he does that but as i said

shameless (hot) asshole

Licht Klein

grumpy ass bottom

not even bratty, just grumpy as fuck

but i think thats what makes the entire thing so thrilling for him

yeah so what if he doesnt care what you do? what are you gonna do about it?

okay maybe hes a little bratty

not the guy that makes a lot of sounds while having sex

he kinda just lays there enjoying the attention hes getting from you - the sex is just a lil bonus

tries to take control on very impatient days

but nuh- uh, his moody ass is staying down

100% sure that he has these 'pls humiliate me' days

theyre rare, yeah, but getting told hes the 'bad sibling' his entire life fucked a little with his brain

pls give him aftercare

Leon Dompteur

i swear i need three tries to get his last name right every single fucking time

anyways, this mans obviously a top

he treats you like youre the deity hes praying to every single day

literally worthsips you so much

i think hes a big vanilla boi

no choking or bondage, just sweet sweet vanilla sex

his hands are huge and everywhere, like a blanket that just never ends

big praise guy too

loves to give it and absolutely thrives off of getting some back

please tell him that hes doing a good job, tell him how good his cock is making you feel

hes a big cuddler too, so get ready for some cozy aftercare <3

#ikemen cybird #cybird ikemen #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #leon dompteur #licht klein #jin grandet #yves kloss #luke randolph #chevalier michel #ikepri headcanons #ikemen x reader #gn! reader

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crowpickingss · 3 months ago

Note

i just saw that you now write for edwin could you please do a fic about them solving a case in like an old abandoned love boat ride and edwin feels pressured into confessing his feelings to the reader

Tunnel Of Love

edwin x gn! reader

summary: you and edwin go on a case to explore an amusement park. a simple boat ride turned scary helped him to confess

warnings: mentions of death

a/n: tysm for the request! first edwin fic!

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

When Edwin was alive amusement parks were a very new thing. He had never been on one since his boarding school never allowed it. Him and Charles had experienced their fair share of amusement parks.

He had never been to one on his own or with anyone besides Charles. But after being stuck in Port Townsend the dead boy detective agency was thriving. Charles took Crystal and Nico to deal with one case while he sent Edwin with you to visit another.

Nico told Charles about Edwin’s feelings toward you. Charles wanting to help out his mate decided to give you another case to solve.

The park was less than clean. It was covered in rust and littered with things. Edwin was less like himself today. You thought it was because Charles wasn’t here but that wasn’t true.

You two wandered around while Edwin took notes “Edwin” He looked up from his notebook “Yes?” You spun around while he took down another note “Charles said that the reason the ghost came to us was because she couldn’t find her body right” He nodded “Well we’ve checked everywhere except there” He followed your finger to the tunnel of love.

Edwin had never been on the tunnel of love, and he wasn’t going to until you grabbed his arm and pulled him along “My theory might sound wild but you notice how this park seems abandoned like something happened one day and no one retuned” Edwin had noticed that his quick thinking had led him to believe something had happened “What if whatever killed the ghost started killing other people”

He furrowed his brow “Well last night I went to the library and turns out that this park was shut down the year Charles died” He shrugged “What do you think happened” You bit your lip “Maybe a mass murder I mean there are mysterious red splotches everywhere”

As you two were getting closer his anxiety was building up. A single boat stood floating on the water “Cmon Edwin it will be fun” He reluctantly sat down on the boat. You started the ride and hopped on before it sailed away.

A jazz tune started playing making the whole thing more romantic. If ghost could sweat Edwin could fill a pool. He was shaking slightly but every time you laughed his nerves calmed down a bit.

He closed his eyes and just tried to breathe when he heard you scream. He opened his eyes to see you huddled closer to him “Edwin I think I found her body” When you got off the boat you found yourself at a completely different end of the park.

You were the one shaking now clinging onto Edwin. He didn’t mind he enjoyed it. You two found the scene of the crime. Around you was a very unpleasant sight. Edwin afraid you might get scared lead you out of the park.

He sat down next to you on a bench and tried to comfort you “I wish the others were here that was gruesome” He didn’t say anything “Edwin I noticed you were kind of off in the tunnel, did something happen?” He laughed nervously “No everything is quite alright”

You didn’t believe him “Tell me the truth Edwin” He took a deep breath “Fine if you must know, I have feelings for someone and that tunnel just well I guess you know” You smiled “You were thinking about Charles”

He was slightly taken aback “You don’t need to hide it, I know you like him” He sighed “I guys I can’t hide it anymore, I was thinking about you” You were very confused “Me why?” He took a deep breath “Because I like you, you’re so funny and nice and-“ He was cut off by you “You like me, are you telling the truth?” He placed his hands on top of yours “Yes, a lot” You smiled “Well I always thought you liked Charles but I can’t say I didn’t feel the same” He smiled this time “Are you saying you like me back” You nodded

He was so happy finally he confessed, a very heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. He couldn’t wait to tell Nico as she was the one who had given him the advice to pursue a relationship with you.

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—

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hopeamarsu · 2 years ago

Text

See You

Joel Miller x gn!reader (sort of, maybe)

Word count 1,3k

Warnings: Death, life in the QZ, funeral pyre, general gloominess

A/N: I do not know what this is, but I knew I had to get it out. It's also been months since I last touched anything in my writing folder, so I'm a little rusty. So there will be mistakes, and there will probably be inconsistencies but I don't mind.

You see enough death at your job, so you really shouldn’t be here. But you can’t help yourself; the image of the dead girl - no more than ten years of age - sitting tied up in the chair hasn’t left you since the body left the FEDRA reception center.

Execution center, your traitorous mind hisses, but you shake it off quickly. It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there and people do what they can to ensure survival. Life in the QZ zone is harsh and oftentimes brutal, but it’s sometimes necessary to be cruel. It’s done for the people still fighting and alive.

At least that’s what FEDRA tells you and you’d never question it or their harsh, unjust actions out loud. You value your own life more. And in some twisted way, you do understand the theory behind all this, your own need for survival thrumming in your veins.

These are the days though when you hate your job and the nightmares it gives you, even if the extra ration cards you take home will ensure you can at least eat well most nights. It’s almost not worth it, shifting through a dead person’s belongings and making sure they are transported to the burning pits.

Seeing their final moments, smelling their decay and desperation, and having to touch their clammy skin in order to be thorough in the search for any valuables left behind takes a chunk out of your own fractured soul every time it happens.

If you even have any soul left to fracture that is.

The scent and sight of death linger on you, in you even after you leave the premises. You can never get rid of it, no matter how hard you try. You can try to drink it away, but it lingers and wraps around your throat at night.

On the hardest of days, those extra ration cards and the dinners remain unused and uneaten.

It falls to you to strip the dead of their humanity, your final task of placing the bag over their heads to preserve anonymity and it weighs you down. With the FEDRA people hovering nervously around you, ready to attack like rabid dogs at the first sign of the dead not being dead enough, doesn’t allow you much time to grieve or show mercy, but you do what you can.

You close their eyes gently and smooth out any hair tangled on sweaty foreheads and you send a silent wish to the deities still out there to allow for the poor souls some rest before slipping the cloth over their features. It’s what you can do before you are more or less pushed aside for the transport guys to take over. Your work done, a slim stack of ration cards in your pockets, you are dismissed unceremoniously.

You don’t normally walk home this way, but today your feet carry you over to the edge of the pits. Your face is shrouded by a cloth to avoid smoke inhalation but your eyes remain open and alert. You watch the people shovel the dirt and ash around the flames, feeling the heat even from a distance away. This is gruesome work and while you hate your own job, it’s at least somewhat clean and silent. Small mercy that.

The tires of the truck crunch on the gravel and you see two people walk toward it. A screech of metal pierces the air as the back is wrenched open and you feel your knuckles tighten.

This is it, this is her next. The poor little girl born into a world too cruel and lost her life when it should’ve only been at the beginning. You have to fight to keep your eyes open, the tears burning you from the inside, but you cannot let a moment slip by. You’ve come this far, you have to watch it until the bitter end.

The woman next to the man backs away from the truck and you know exactly why she does it. The size of the sneakers is devastating. She disappears somewhere but you don’t follow her movements, too focused on the truck and the body laying in the bed. The man turns and you see him carry the dead girl in his arms. Your knees buckle at the lonely sight of the one-man funeral team.

His face doesn’t change, he doesn’t twitch or show any remorse when he drops the body unceremoniously into the flames. He looks past the fire, resigned to his fate. The vacant look on his face signals he’s done this too many times to count and has lost any hope in humanity. It’s both chilling and sad to witness.

It takes you far longer than it should to recognize the set of shoulders and large frame trimming down to a narrow waist. But then it clicks in your head and his expression makes perfect sense.

Joel Miller.

There are numerous whispers of him, hushed and hurried words spoken in the darkest corners of the QZ. The whispers have fear, awe, and lust in them, depending on the person speaking, but they all hold the same information.

They tell the story that he is more a machine than a man, void of emotions and immune to everything. Nothing phases him, nothing touches him. Every bad deed aimed in his direction rolls off him like water on stone. He can make things appear and disappear in places they shouldn’t. His name is respected and feared at the same time, spoken alone or together with another name that garners the same reaction. But he’s alone now, the woman known only as Tess not with him.

He’s a mystery, an enigma of the highest level, and in some way you itch to unravel the mystery. The aura Joel carries with him calls to you in a way you’ve never felt before and suddenly when his dark eyes lock into your gaze from across the fire, everything stops. All sound falls away and your spine straightens instantly. A gasp is lodged in your throat, unable to escape. He is an apex predator, determining whether you are the same or his prey.

You hold his gaze nervously, watching him in silence and seeing him commit every detail into memory. It should make you itch, knowing someone knows you are here, but for some reason, it doesn’t. His gaze holds you captive and you let it happen willingly. You let him see you, the weight you carry and the sorrow you feel for that girl he just buried by funeral pyre.

It only takes a second or two but feels like a lifetime of being under his thrall before his brown eyes flash again and Joel reaches a conclusion of some kind. He tips his head, clearly now more curious than worried about you.

He moves a little, giving you a tantalizing view of a jawline covered in dark and grey hair and dry lips. You lick your own lips at the sight, glad that the movement is hidden by the smoke and the cloth over your face. He is gorgeous, a beautiful man forged in the living hell on earth, and some of the husky whispers of Joel Miller and his talents make more sense now.

Find me later, the lips in question form the order slowly and you can practically feel the commanding tone rumble from his wide chest to yours. You give a jerky nod, unable to deny him. Joel holds your gaze for a beat longer before you have to close your eyes to rid the burning the smoke has caused.

When you open your eyes again, he’s gone from his spot. There is only fire and smoke and the scent of death around you. But you don’t worry about his disappearance as you slink back into the shadows of the building yourself.

You know deep in your gut that if you don’t find him first, Joel Miller will find you.

#joel miller #joel miller the last of us #the last of us #tlou #hbo tlou #tlou spoilers #joel miller fanfiction #cw: death

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rosesradio · 2 years ago

Text

I posted 2,570 times in 2022

That's 2,570 more posts than 2021!

689 posts created (27%)

1,881 posts reblogged (73%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ohnoitsthebat

@bothvinforfaen

@acewhofellonmyface

@macchiatosdumptruck

@danielslaw

I tagged 2,528 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#not tkk - 576 posts

#stranger things - 546 posts

#daniel larusso - 313 posts

#rose's tkk rambles - 303 posts

#hsmtmts - 302 posts

#cobra kai - 291 posts

#byler - 255 posts

#lawrusso - 225 posts

#johnny lawrence - 203 posts

#ej caswell - 158 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#oh to be robby. i’m pretty sure he left at that point but if i heard my new sensei tell my old sensei ‘you know you liked it’ i’d be 🏃‍♀️

My Top Posts in 2022:

1.) you have a character named EJ (the letters of which stand for no other than Elton John) (that’s gay)

2.) his narrative foil (just fyi having a same-sex narrative foil is automatically gay) is a bisexual curly haired twink with big brown eyes, cuffed jeans, and a blurred line sense on what is “bro talk” and what is just flirting (i.e. “pretty boy”, the pillow fight, the “lovers” comment, etc.)

3.) both of the characters are within the same love square, constantly shown to have short, flighty relationships with the same girls. despite this, they’ve built up and tried to keep a close friendship outside of unknown, hormonal-driven spikes of jealousy

4.) i have grabbed the mouse by the tail

172 notes - Posted August 24, 2022

every fandom has the gay person’s straight ship. aka the straight ship that is so legitimately good and valid that people don’t ship it just because it’s straight and in the show.

for cobra kai it’s robby/tory (and damanda for the parent crowd)

for stranger things it’s lumax (and, in some cases, chrissy/eddie. i said what i said)

for hsmtmts it’s gina/ej. point blank period portwell is so good

that’s all thank you and gn <3

256 notes - Posted August 9, 2022

i’ve been meaning to say this for a minute but like i think people in the st fandom should--what’s the word--acknowledge fanon content more, and like allow people to ship what they want (to an extent, guys) etc.

maybe it’s because i’ve been in a lot of fandoms where we relied on fanon content to carry the fandom (which is why i left sanders sides lol) but i think that stranger things is so rooted to it’s theories and whatever current ship is being portrayed, that people feel the need to shut others down in their fanon content.

for example, is steddie going to happen? most likely not, they’re going down the (imho basic) route of stancy. does that mean that no one should ship steddie or make content of them, and that the ship is inherently bad, because it’s not in the show? absolutely not.

concepts of things (especially ships) is what encourages creativity and content. i actually think the concept of mileven is pretty cool (but the way they show it in the show makes me not want to root for them). basically, just because a ship isn’t canon, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t like them or make content about it. that’s literally what fandom is for.

257 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

so i was taking uquizzes because i’m super productive (is this a bad time to mention there’s no new ctp update tonight? lol) anyways i found this uquiz (that is not mine!) i wanted to share because i wanna see what my mutuals get. it’s which dead dove trope are you? i’ll share first i got age gap :/ which honestly fair

304 notes - Posted August 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

for all of the ej slander we have endured this season, i am willing to accept an apology in one of four ways:

1.) ej gets an emotional scene in which he breaks down and has a heartfelt song dedicated to him, like all of the other struggling characters have gotten thus far (some have gotten multiple songs).

2.) ej gets a hot villain bop in which he corrupts the entire show as a last screw you all to the cast who has been nothing but inconsiderate of him

3.) ej gets a heartfelt ballad in which we can all begin to sympathize for him until it takes a sickening turn into a hot villain bop

4.) ej gets with ricky

563 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #the tumblr review on why i should get off tumblr lol

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years ago

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Wondering if you’d write some headcanons ab Brian, Jack, and Nyein with an S/o who lives and the middle of the woods and occasionally displays off-putting behavior. Like they’re chasing a survivor and oh no. The survivor is in s/o’s house and oh no! Survivor is dead! And s/o is fine just giving them a lil wave. S/o is a spider who just draws in survivors and they happen to oh no!! Die!!

Brian, Eyeless Jack, and Nyein (OC) with an Odd SO in the Woods

[GN!Reader]

[Warnings: Like, none?]

[AN: Man I just love seeing my baby Ny get attention.]

Brian

Y'know, I think he's almost okay with it. There's many things he understands and doesn't, and one of the things in between those lines is you!

But I don't think he actually questions it? Like, if he's got a victim that ends up in your neck of the woods and suddenly ends up hanging in the pines, he's not questioning it. He just knows you had something to do with it. You smile and wave at him and he's weirded out but whatever.

I think Brian is a mostly go with the flow kind of guy, so it really, really doesn't get on him. Everything about you gives off uncanny valley but he just accepts it.

He finds it largely helpful! How do those weird people end up in your house? No idea, only that it works. The Operator knows of your existence and while he won't take you directly into his care, you kind of have independent status.

Brian sometimes purposely brings people by your home because he knows you function a lot like a spider. Hyphae, roots, they all connect back to your web.

Eyeless Jack

I think he's actually the most fascinated by your behavior while the other two are pretty aloof about it. The first time he notices your odd behavior, I think he actually fell in love just a little harder.

Jack doesn't really like normal people? I guess that's the right word. He's fascinated by weird things and you have a bunch of weird qualities. Your plants always grow faster and brighter, and victims say your area feels like a whole new dimension.

He knows something about you isn't human or normal, and that lures him in deeper. Knows the Slender Man hates you interfering with his work, but like, you're helpful so he allows it under the radar.

The two of you talk a lot about it. You still won't outright tell him but he has theories and the two of you call those conversations, the playful debates, date night.

Wonders why you're so magnetic and it makes him orbit in the best way. Makes him want to stay around you even longer - figure you out and all of that good stuff.

Nyein

I'm not even sure Nyein even notices at first? This isn't because Nyein is smooth brained, but rather, when they're hungry for flesh, their mind is pretty one track.

It gets convenient for them when you start to give him bodies. They find that really nice and sweet! Sometimes, he gives you little dead things and stuff they found out and about as a thank you for positively interfering with his work.

Nyein doesn't... Nyein doesn't judge. They're not human, were never human, and according to that weird deer skull thing they call "mother", was never meant for this world in general. They know a thing or two about being odd and find you one of the more normal aspects of their life.

Nyein likes hunting with you because he knows you'll lure in in an irresistible way. Nyein gives off extremely foreboding, negative aura and his victims often sense that! But with you around, it gets dampened.

That's one of their ideas of date night with you tbh. But, a part of them is curious as to why you function the way you do. Luckily, they'll be around for a long time to try and figure it out.

#brian thomas x reader #brian thomas headcanon #hoodie x reader #hoodie headacnon #eyeless jack headcanon #eyeless jack x reader #nyein headcanon #nyein x reader #nyein #creepypasta original character #creepypasta oc

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dailytatsu · 3 years ago

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Hello! I saw request were open so i was wondering if i could request some headcanons of the Archons and/or the Adepti meeting a God reader who is the God of Chaos and destruction. The reader is not a Archon tho and travels all over Teyvat cuz small bits of destruction were ever they go. They're pretty mischievous and somewhat smug but despite how they act they're actually a good person. They dont mean to cause problems(most of the time anyways) chaos follows them were ever they go. Idk if you have a character limit but if you do please tell me so i wont make a mistake again. And if there is you can just do Zhongli and Xiao. Optionally could you make them a dendro user, there not a lot of dendro content and if not thats fine. I understand. Could you make the reader Gn or Non-binary they/them pronouns please? If not male reader is totally fine. Im so sorry for the long post and I hope you have a good day/night!

Ohmy, it’s my first time just writing headcanons! I’m use to write a lot, so let’s hope I did it right (^ ^' )7

Thanks for the request! ✨

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[HC] God of Chaos! Reader and the Archons + Xiao

Characters: Zhongli, Xiao, Venti, Shogun Raiden (Ei).

Gn! Reader

I tried doing it with everyone but I’m no still that confident to try writing with some characters ＿|￣|○

Sorry for any mistakes!

Request are open!

Genshin Masterlist

Second part ->

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VENTI

To be honest, he didn't notice your presence at first. He had other concerns on his mind that day to perceive the chaotic (and slightly threatening) aura that Mondstadt was infected with that day.

Barbatos is a person of habit, so he couldn't help but be curious when the crowd in front of him began to look a little agitated instead of seeming to enjoy his lyre and his songs.

But then a series of domino events appeared in front of his very eyes.

The purity of the chaos was such that he felt overwhelmed, even without the white-haired boy around, if it wasn’t Bennett fault, then how was it possible for everything to be ruined in such a short time?

His patience ended when, out of nowhere, the strings of his lyre jumped close to his face as they snapped. Making that awful noise that couldn’t mean nothing good.

Okay, enough, who is messing around in here? No more joking in his nation!

He concentrated a little, a faint but unique presence kept his nerves on edge, as if he was being watched from afar. He moved away from the busy areas and then chased that ephemeral energy to the highest point of the church, where the bells were ringing in an irregular and stressful way.

Then he found you. Snoozing against one of the columns, somewhat tired because the trip you made to reach Mondstadt.

Surprisingly, Barbatos understood you since the first exchange of words. A god of chaos who was also a free spirit, you followed no rules ever written in Teyvat, and you had no plans to apologize for the mess you made.

Both of you were Zhongli’s worst nightmare, but that’s another story.

He managed to through your arrogance and your teasing nature that you, in fact, were a lonely spirit that liked to witness the life from above of everyone.

The difference between teasing someone accidentally and committing a crime was really visible, but he still couldn't help but feel like he should scold you after your mere presence messed up with the guild's baskets full of fish.

But hey! He also enjoy the company! Venti tried to teach you how to enjoy the calm and the whisper of wind, music can also contain chaos, feelings, old stories waiting to be told again, expressions and desire united, in a wonderful piece of-

As you yawned his lyre broke up again. Making clear the message.

Okay, not even God of Freedom and Wind can control chaos. Anyways, what a tragedy, but there’s nothing a simple bard can do, smh.

“Do you like kids, don’t you?” He said once, after a nice day of hearing him sing before your chaos reached his little concert. Again watching everyone from above on the hands of the statue, with your attention caught by some kids playing tag.

“… I don’t know what do you mean.” Once discovered you had no choice but to remain defensive, pretending to be disinterested.

“Heh, you aren’t a good liar.” It may not be the wisest thing to make fun of someone who could destroy the place where you were resting, but Venti was confident that he knew you well enough to know that you were not so explosive. “You know!, I just have some pieces, but I think it’s because they are little walking concentrations of pure and innocent chaos, am I wrong?”

He wasn’t, no at all. But you would never confess something that embarrassing.

This guy wrote a ballad about the days when Mondstadt got immerse with that strike of bad luck. Kind of an apology of not being able to handle the situation.

Now there’s the rumor that says that, every time somebody sings that song, something unlucky will happen in front of you.

The song is cursed.

One night when the moon was shining on the Cider Lake his well tuned ears distinguished a melody that was broken from time to time by the accidents of his performer, distracting him of his way to look for you.

It could be painful to listen to, but Venti could certainly feel the dedication of the one who was playing the imperfect song.

The ballad of the god of chaos, hummed like a lullaby that instead of making you sleep makes you question the events of the day. Wishing for the slightest thing to be different after an exhaustive week of peace and tranquility.

A lonely spirits cursing their existence, sitting in the highest point of a stranger’s palace, where you can reach the sky by only rising your hand.

The next day, Barbatos invited you to drink some wine, this time near Windrise to avoid accidents in the city.

As he almost dropped the bottle when a lot of slimes were attracted by your presence, he confirmed the theory about that the way to spend time with you would not be his personal definition of hanging out.

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ZHONGLI

Okay, there’s only two scenarios that could happened when you set a foot in Liyue.

Old man has a soft spot for you for being a relative young deity.

Or he’s always lecturing you for not having control of your aura and powers.

How u dare bringing chaos to the nation of order? It’s that a death wish?

Jokes aside, you’re not really a threat. And he could sense that after he saw how you tried to avoid having direct contact with the city. Rex Lapis found your silhouette jumping and crossing through the mountains until reaching the fairest point that allowed you to enjoy the view of the streets that were filled with life and light as the sunsets.

He even noticed how you sighed in frustration when a storm started out of nowhere. A rain dedicated just for the arriving of the God of Chaos. Not even bothering of getting shield, you stayed in your place to look at all the people who were getting back to their places.

The rain seemed to stop over your head, for a second was enough to stop you from being cruelly swamped by the very weather you had created. An elegant umbrella covered you, the long awaited surprise you expected from someone as outdated as Morax.

You looked up, and found his expression calm and attentive, watching you. As if he had made a great discovery that he could not believe

“May I have a moment of your time to keep you company? Letting out your sorrows in the middle of a torrential storm is not what I would recommend as way to spend a good day.”

“… What are you talking about? Get in your own business, old man.”

“Well, you should know that a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved.”

Next time you knew was that he was helping you to dry your hair with a towel once you let him guide you to his place.

Zhongli picked you up like a abandoned cat that day. Even if having you near meant to deal with new the roof leaks.

Also kept you away from Hu Tao, if you two ever get along for being partners in crime he would seal himself underground-

For all the time you spend exploring Liyue, there he was. Like a little kid showing his treasures. But also like a worried father looking after his child for them not to stumble making their first steps.

Look at you! Almost crushing those Treasure Hoarders when a bunch of rocks fell down after you jumped at the edge of the cliff.

Wait, no- come back here! You should verify the surroundings and be aware of the weight of your power if you’re going to explore in that bold way. You, chaotic brat.

Another one who believed fervently that your mood was to blame for the constant chaos you caused. He also tried to show you the wonders of peace and calm, teaching you how to prepare tea while listening to the storyteller (also both being a little far away from the rest of them, just in case).

He couldn’t help but sigh when the teapot arm broke as soon as you tried to serve the tea. What a waste, he thought.

You apologized to him, kind of stressed with yourself after you took all the pieces with your bare hands to run away with them. Leaving a confused Zhongli behind.

Next day you were back, with the teapot repaired and just like new.

He let out a lot of thankful words, some flattering and a lot more cheesy things that you never had received before.

With that unexpected affection you couldn’t help but react flustered; then a cat that was chasing a bird jumped through a lot of decorations and merchandise, almost starting a fire as the chained events kept going.

Yeah,, uh, Zhongli got some useful mental notes about you and your chaos that day.

Hey, before you go, want to make a contract? You won’t regret it!

But as the wandering spirit you were you had no problems in reject his offer, but also promising that you would visit Liyue if he wanted you to.

Of course he wanted! But.. maybe next time you should stay in Huaguang Stone Forest instead of roaming near the city,,

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XIAO

Tried to kill you.

I mean, your aura is threatening and full of a destructive energy, how is possible that you weren’t a demon to eradicate??

Sorry, but he had a point.

Your first met was on your way to reach Huaguang Stone Forest along with Zhongli for introduce you with the Adeptus.

Xiao, in the other side, thought that you were about to attack Morax from behind, so he just struck against you. With his polearm near to go through your chest, just stopped because you felt him before.

Lifting your hand at his direction, summoning chaos, this time, on purpose. The wind gained a wrathful nature and the biggest roots that were hiding under his feet rose to caught him.

And when you were about to hit each other Zhongli’s shield appeared just in time to separate both of you. Preventing a real catastrophic event.

Now stop fighting and introduce to each other.

Nice(n’t) to meet u.

What if you tried to awake Azhdaha to bring chaos and destruction to Liyue? What if you wanted to summoned Osial? What if… ?

Zhongli had to confirm and promise to him that those cruel possibilities won’t be a near future for respecting the real reason of your travel.

No matter if he wasn’t comfortable with your presence, it wasn’t his decision to allow you to roam freely, so he had to get use to it.

He immediately knew after hearing about your nature that was your fault that lately there were a lot more demons and monsters. Even his karma was getting more painful than usual.

(If you ever meet Hu Tao, please think twice before doing Xiao a prank)

You both didn’t interact a lot, and being honest, it was better that way.

He hadn’t a single intention of talking with you again until the day you were practicing the song that your Anemo friend taught you. By the other hand, Xiao noticed that the melody had the same nature as the one he once heard before being consumed by the karma.

It wasn’t a flute, but a worn lyre that was still in one piece after weeks of being repaired again and again.

“That song… ”

“Do you know it?” Xiao just nodded, staying in silence, being your very first audience even if you still have a lot to learn about playing a lyre.

It wasn’t as effective as the original, but was still… nice, kind of nostalgic.

Next morning, the Yaksha called for you. Made you stay still in the middle of a plain and then he disappeared of your sight.

He abandoned y- wait, what’s that? Why those monsters has that weird dark aura?

You were about to defend yourself until Xiao appeared back just in time to defeat them.

That day you became his personal bait for demons and monsters. Naturally you attracted chaos, so anyway you were, there will be also something to fight.

I guess this is your way to pay for all the troubles you made for him and his duty, so no complaining about it.

If you ask for a unexpected experience to Ganyu she would said that once she found both of you fighting along against the catastrophe, looking after each other’s back and almost having a perfect synchrony.

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SHOGUN RAIDEN; EI

Also tried to kill you.

Well, the puppet tried to.

And then Ei tried when you had the opportunity of facing her.

But since killing a god just mean the releasing of a lot, pure, energy she couldn’t afford that risk, much less considering your “speciality”.

Who knows what would happen to Inazuma if your vital energy burst across the nation. Just like that old story about Sal Terrae and their goddess.

She just defeated you. Letting you rest and recovering in the midst of the plane of her reality within her mind. Your inert body in the middle of the battlefield as she kept meditating.

When you woke up she ignored your presence, but also denying your complaints about letting you go out back.

In her words, you were a burden, another enemy of eternity. Something as unpredictable as you and your “accidents” couldn’t get along with her utopia.

Ei could banish you from Inazuma, but she knows your type. Stubborn and not accepting the most simple orders to obey.

She knew that you would found a way to be back.

It’s better like this.

And in the hypothetical case of you being freed when she trapped the traveler (kicking you out) and then having a chance to see her again after the end of the war, then things would be somewhat different.

There’s not that much of civilization on some islands, so she allowed you to explore as much as your heart wanted. But if something serious happen, she promised that would end her work in the middle of the sea so your remains never be found.

Okay, message clear. Just do chaos near monsters and bandits, got it,,

Even if she wanted to spend some time with you and telling you some stories about Inazuma and other gods she couldn’t found the right time to call you at her presence.

As the current ruler of Inazuma she was busier than the rest of Archons you have meet. Maybe just some letters now and then like a way to keep a logbook, but not really a face to face talk.

Until she got the opportunity of a day off, just to found you messing around near some ruins. Trying to solve a puzzle before your speciality strikes in. The structure fell down after your fingertips reached the stone.

When the dust dissipated, you discovered her figure judging you from the other side of the remain ruins.

Give her a good reason for not errase you from the map, I dare u.

You felt the worst was about to come when Ei ordered you to follow her after a long sigh. Crossing her arms and starting to walk away from the bunch of old and worn rock.

Plot Twist, she actually invited you to rest under a tree, asking in her serene voice the reason for your journey and your origin. In such a direct way that it seemed more like a sentence than a talk to get to know each other better.

You answered what you could remember and then the silence stayed like the only way of interaction between you two.

Ohno, you know this pattern. Something’s about to happen-

“There is some strange beauty in the chaos, it may be the calm after the storm, but the catastrophe itself is seen as a necessary evil to appreciate the stillness. How much it would last until the lighting hit the valley?”

“So I arrived to keep order between the humans?”

Well yes, but actually no.

“… You see, if there is nothing but order and a lack of problems, mortals are likely to create them on their own. Their minds feels the need to be tested, to prove their worth, so I guess some of your chaos may be part of the history.”

“… then shall we take a walk in Inazuma?” You did not know if you were right, but you thought you saw a faint smile through his lips in the same way that lightning can be seen in the sky.

“I’ll allow it.” She said.

Her only condition was for you not to approach the huge boxes of fireworks down the street.

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rek1s-headband · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! May I please request random bf headcanons for cherry? Ty!

➯A/N: Hi!! Thanks for the request! Hope you enjoy, and have a lovely day!

➯ Random boyfriend headcannons

➯ Characters: Kaoru Sakurayashiki x gn! reader

➯ Warnings: none:)

If yall met when you were still in high school, he would’ve tried to convince you at least once to let him pierce you or give you a tattoo.

That’s how you would’ve gotten together initially too. His face inches from yours, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he pulls the needle through your lip. Adjusting a piece of jewellery on your lip to match his, he’d gently wipe a stray drop of blood away from your lips with his thumb

You found you couldn’t pull away as you stared into his eyes, slowly closing them as he pulled you in for a gentle kiss. It was quick, but as soon as you pulled away he was pulling you back in for another, and another. The light throbbing in your lip was the least of your worries

He would’ve been so protective of you when he’d go with Adam and Joe to those underground skate meet-ups. Of course, he’s only gotten worse, now he refuses to leave your side at S for fear of some creep trying to hit on you

You have the most unnecessary beef with Carla. You know its a joke of course, but since Carla is, well, a robot, she’s not too knowledgeable about teasing. You’d ask her a load of random, strange questions she couldn’t possibly answer, or you’ll tell her how Kaoru is all yours and she’ll start overheating. Now any time you try to ask her a question she literally just. refuses to answer you

“Master, please tell y/n I dont want to speak to them.” “Oh I’ll show you master-”

Kaoru is indifferent to PDA. He doesn’t hate it, he just doesn’t think others deserve to see you like that. Hell give you the occasional forehead kiss, but even so his arm is constantly glued to you in some way

Behind closed doors though, he cant seem to get enough of you. He loves having you in his lap, his head on your shoulder while you watch TV. If you play with his hair he’s like putty in your hands, leaning into your touch with closed eyes and almost a purr. Loves when you drag your fingertips along his arms and his back, its a comfort to him

You and him will constantly gang up on Joe and absolutely violate the man. It’s already bad with just Kaoru, now imagine the poor guy having to deal with both of you

You’ll hide in the crowd during his exhibitions, occasionally shouting out praise trying to throw him off.

Or worse, you’ll just silently stand there, watching him look around suspiciously, knowing you’re hiding somewhere even if you hadn’t explicitly specified you’d be there. When he finally locks eyes with you, he has to try extremely hard not to laugh as he watches you stare him down, a small grin creeping over your face

You’ll go on dates to Joe’s restaurant just to annoy the shit out of him. You’ll act extra lovey-dovey just to make him uncomfortable, and the pair of you will fake a proposal at least once a month to get free cake(its always one of those shitty plastic rings you get from the dollar store too)

You dyed your hair pink to match with him once, and he absolutely loved it. The two of you would style your hair and clothes to match, and you were quite the sight to see at S

Slow dancing in the kitchen while you make dinner is a regular thing for the two of you. You’ll be idly stirring the pot when one of your songs come on, and suddenly Kaoru is pulling you away from the stove, twirling you around the kitchen and humming in your ear. More often than not you’ll get carried away and burn the dinner.

Who cares, takeout tastes good too

He’s awful at tying his hair up properly, and gets you to tie it for him before an exhibition or a race

You’ve curled his hair before while he slept, and he was insanely fascinated by it. He spent at least an hour shaking his head in front of the mirror, raking is hands through the wavy locks. He kept it curled when you tied it up before S, and it was a big hit during his race. Suddenly he was asking you to curl his hair more often

During the colder months, you and Kaoru will sleep impossibly close, a mess of tangled limbs while Carla quietly plays lullabies in the background. In the warmer months though, you couldn’t be further apart. Lying above the covers in minimal clothing, you’ll both hang off either side of the bed, hissing at each other to not come closer to them while you sweat like pigs. Hey, sometimes romance is keeping your distance

It’s a regular thing for the two of you to get wine drunk and whip out some old board games, yelling at each other when you get put in jail in Monopoly, flipping the Scrabble board when Kaoru insists that “milf” is not a word you’re allowed to use

“ITS AN ACRONYM” “YOURE AN ACRONYM” “WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN”

Reki and Langa love you. Miya took a bit of warming up to you, but as soon as he saw you bullying Joe with Cherry he adored you

If you can skate, you would constantly race against Kaoru just to see if you could beat him. However, with his fancy ass board that already hated you and his insane skills, losses were much more common than wins

He can never get any work done with you around him. You’ll lie your head in his lap while he tries to write, drawing smiley faces in the corners of his paper. He literally has to carry you out of the room just so he can get a bit of peace

Loves conspiracy theories. He’ll shake you awake at four in the morning, rambling about the new video he just watched about McDonald’s actually being run by a cult of clowns

*episode 9 spoilers* after Ad*m gave him a slap of his skateboard, you’d help him wash his hair in the shower, wrapping plastic bags around his casts and making jokes

*washing his back* “don’t make it gay Kaoru” “I DIDNT EVEN SAY ANYTHING”

#kaoru sakurayashiki headcanons #kaoru sakurayashiki #kaoru sakurayashiki x reader #cherry blossom #cherry blossom headcanons #cherry blossom x reader #sk8 the infinity x reader #sk∞#sk8 the infinity #sk8 x reader #sk8 cherry blossom #sk8 kaoru

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unhinged-summer-fun · 2 years ago

Text

the intersection of all my pieces

Danktober 2022 Day 26: Petplay, Ego, Howl at the Moon Night

Puppy!Marcus Pike x GN!Reader (22+ only)

Summary: Marcus muses on the components of his psyche. Why does he like what he likes?

Word Count: 3341

Warnings: Pet play, primal play (kinda), nudity, introspection which leads to emotional angst and hurt/comfort, psychological analysis.

Notes: the id, ego, and superego are terms used popularly in Freudian psychoanalytic theory. The id refers to your instincts, your most primal self. The superego refers to your morality and character, specifically when interacting with others. The ego is the combination of both, and controls how you see and experience your reality.

[full danktober list here]

[puppy marcus pike list here]

"Let me tell you, Pike, I'm kinda known for being the alpha dog wherever I go, I'll make sure you won't get picked on, pretty face like you."

Marcus immediately hated the man. Part of him wanted to flex the petty knowledge in his mind, that the "alpha wolf" theory was disproved over two decades ago and the scientist who'd fabricated the study had very quickly resigned in shame. He wanted to explain the true loyalties of a dog, the realities of pack behavior, what was done to the cruel and violent in most animal groups, and how they didn't exactly fit in a professional office environment full of fleshy, emotional humans. He wanted to say all of this, but the man just kept talking.

The new guy, Special Agent Benson, reeked of the kind of attitude Marcus never willingly stayed in the same breathing space as for long: self-serving, stereotyping, discriminatory, probably inflated with grandeur and pure id, though this buffoon would have probably just credited his ego as the feather in his hat.

Perhaps Supervisory Special Agent Marcus Pike was being a bit unfair, though.. He shouldn't have expected men like this to have offhand knowledge of Freudian psychology, besides being an exhibit-A motherfucker.

It was a strange but disappointing set of circumstances that had brought Benson to the International Art Crimes team. Some difficult-to-follow file filled with prior disciplinary measures from the Terrorist Screening Division and an itemized, dated, and collated collection of infraction records sent by the Office of Personnel Security sat on Marcus' desk just beneath his interlaced fingers, though he didn't really need to read it to understand that Marcus' division had been chosen as the last resort for this man's FBI career. Those same fingers were tightened into an uncomfortable grip, white-knuckled and both holding back the remarks Marcus was waiting to spit.

The situation annoyed him, but he was familiar with the steps he needed to take to dance around it. He knew that art just wasn't important to men like this. It required compassion and thought and the acceptance of devastation when following a lead to nothing but the shattered remains of centuries-old indigenous material history. Things had been getting better in the last few months, though. Activity had been picking up here and there, and they'd been granted almost twice the budget as last year, which allowed them to pursue the cases of items that had been collecting dust in the National Stolen Art File. The bottom line was this: he had cases to investigate and prosecute, millions of dollars worth of art in the basement gallery to trace provenance on and return, a team of 60 agents and bureau liaisons with the Smithsonian, and three oddly charming (or was it charmingly odd?) interns to oversee. He didn't need Agent Benson trying to herd him like a sheep dog in his own territory.

But that was a line of thinking best left at home, in the lockbox holding all the costume pieces and toys he liked best.

Almost as if you were thinking of him, his phone buzzed with a message, and he set it down on his face for now. Not even your contact photo had to see the dressing-down he was about to give Benson.

Your waiting message made the rest of the painfully awkward transfer interview a little more bearable. By the time the officially-demoted Agent Benson left Marcus' office with his tail between his legs and his head held a little less high than before, Marcus felt his authority weigh heavy across his shoulders like a yoke. Benson wouldn't be a problem, he thought to himself. If he proved otherwise, I'll make sure he doesn't have another second-chance. The thought chilled him. It was cutthroat decisions like these that drove some SSAs to keep booze in their desks, but Marcus' vices stayed at home and were only given by your hands.

Right, the message.

He shut the door and sat for a moment in the blessed silence he normally took for granted in his office, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he tapped open your message. It took a while to scroll through the wall of text and photos and links and travel information, but Marcus really preferred getting all the necessary information at once while he was at work. The odd and charming interns (he'd decided that they were both) tended to message him one - word - at - a - time, and often not getting to the point for several rounds of back-and-forth.

That was a bit of a lie, implying he didn't like clipped orders and a need-to-know attitude. He just preferred them when he wasn't wearing a tie and shirt stays.

You'd sent him information about a proposed evening camping in the woods, about an hours' drive east and another hours' hike up a mountain with a Class-1.5 Bortle Scale rating. You'd been getting very into dark-sky sites since you first heard of them during a date to the planetarium, and what with the full moon being tonight, and your close-up selfie of you making pleading puppy-dog eyes, Marcus could only smile to himself and reply with an affirmative.

The consistent staccato buzz in his pocket kept him company the rest of the workday, reminders of your excitement sitting against his hip. He tried not to think about what awaited him out in the wild, but it gave him something to look forward to for the next few hours.

He had one last meeting in the office, a conference call with some analysts out in Quantico. When he got on the call, the stoic faces that greeted him pulled a forced smile from his mouth. These analysts sometimes gave him the heeby-jeebies, speaking about their accomplishments in ways that completely separated their involvement from the effort. He used to feel that way in the Academy, and before then in college. There was mindfulness, and then there was whatever the hell this kind of self-critical affect was.

In response, he found himself playing up the happy-go-lucky Marcus Pike that he tended to have a reputation for in the Bureau. It didn't look like his plan was working too well, but when he made one of the analysts crack a smile and admit that they spent a lot of time working on their data compilation program, he took it as a small victory.

The polar opposites of those two strange interactions, Benson and the Quantico analysts, left Marcus in a contemplative mood. His therapist suggested to him that keeping track of his thoughts would help to better notice patterns of behavior that could be influential over time, and that scared him. He'd taken it as, did you know you and your brain are the only two things responsible for your sadness, control issues, impulsive decision-making, and the fact you don't know that is making those things worse? He'd suspected for a long while that his problems were his own doing, but what felt even worse was the acknowledgment to accept the fact, and rationalize the clueless disaster he'd been before, traipsing around Austin with a woman who screamed 'unavailable.'

He remained trapped in this melancholic holding pattern when he arrived at the apartment, pulling into his usual space and catching a glimpse of you packing up the hatchback. Months and months ago, after you'd both moved into this apartment together, free of any notions of attachment or territory, he would have still worried at the motion of you packing up alone while he was gone, assuming the worst. Now, he just greeted you by name and walked closer. "Need some help? I hope you didn't do all this by yourself."

You gave him a look that said I'm more than capable of opening doors, crossing streets, and opening the pickle jar by myself, Marcus, but broke into a smile that had his darker thoughts running for the hills. "There's just your things, figured you'd want to take them down yourself anyway."

The darker glint in your eyes, the promise of play later on, twisted pleasantly in Marcus' gut, and he felt his mouth water on instinct. The reminder of the camping gear only added to the fantasy. Call him cliché for saying it, but he loved playing outside when he was in his puppy-space. His heart raced excitedly at the thought of sinking down into that bliss beneath the stars, under the light of a full moon. By the smirk forming on the corners of your mouth, you knew this too, and had most likely factored all of that into planning this.

God, you must have planned this for weeks. He used to be saddened by your keeping of plans from him, used to let it curdle into insecure panic, but you knew Marcus loved surprises and often spoiled them for himself by accident. It's almost like you want to ruin surprises for yourself, Marcus' superego whispered. The words had disappeared like letters written in sand whenever your hand rested on the back of his neck. The effect was instantaneous, his eyes snapping to look at your mouth and his thoughts stilling, ready and awaiting orders.

"Go upstairs and shower. Change into what I set out for you and check over your box. If there's anything you want to bring with us, pick it out. Other than that, when you come back, we're hitting the road."

Marcus dashed up the steps like a man possessed, too restless and full of energy to wait for an elevator, to remember what an elevator was. His shower was messy, water flying all over and his hair left in a wet mop on his head that would dry in the car. The clothes you'd set out were just normal outdoorsy clothes, but you knew how much Marcus liked to run around in those shorts, that those shoes would let him feel the forest floor beneath his feet, the shirt could be replaced if it got too dirty or grimy. Make a mess, his mind urged, the id pressuring him to feel that primal connection to himself that he denied so staunchly during the day.

He hardly had to look into the box to know you'd chosen all his favorite toys and treats for the trip. The puppy-box was normally kept locked up and on the opposite end of the apartment from his gun safe. The two of you hardly ever took it out of the house except on extended vacations or work trips.

So this was exciting.

He locked the door after trying to get the key in for twenty seconds, his hands shaking with excitement. As soon as the bolt slid home, he was off to the races once more, a bright smile on his face that never left when he was around you. You were behind the wheel and picking out music when he came down, carefully placing his box in the footwell of the second row before taking the passenger seat.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

His past relationships never seemed to understand Marcus' need to drive. Marcus was able to stay fully-focused and on-task when he was behind the wheel. It stemmed from a sense of duty to ensure the safety of himself, his loved ones, and the others out on the road with him. Whenever he sat in the passenger seat, things were much, much different.

He knew the route to the highway out of D.C. fairly well, but there was a detour you had to take. Just before the on-ramp, he saw why: there was a farmers' market set up in one of the cross-streets. Marcus gasped when he saw all the bright colors of the tents and tarps, felt the vibrations that came from the faraway live music, and so many people enjoying themselves in the sunshine. "Look at that…" he whispered in awe.

He could never control his reactions to things that caught his eye whenever he sat in the passenger seat. Everything, every single thing, was just as (and more!) exciting than the last. You didn't chide him for the reasons he'd been scolded for before:

"You could have scared me off the road!"

"Could you stop talking for just five minutes? It's a three hour drive."

"Roll the window up, you're not an animal."

"Why don't you want to talk to me? You just keep pointing out the scenery."

Instead, you encouraged that playful, carefree behavior. It didn't hurt you, and it only made him happy.

"Hopefully it'll still be there when we come back tomorrow," you said, slowly driving forward away from the market. "You wanna check it out if it is?"

"Yes of course, remember the peaches we got at the farmer's market last August?"

"You have literally brought up those peaches whenever you can, almost as much as I have." He didn't have to see you to know you were smiling, he didn't have to wonder if you meant it. He was never unsure that you loved all his quirks and needs and preferences, because you promised to share that same trust with him.

The campgrounds were at the base of the mountain, with your reserved space sitting four miles up the trail. He waved to some of the groundskeepers talking to one another at the gatehouse, who then waved back, amused by his outgoing friendliness. Not a lot of people who come from the city tend to be as friendly when their cell service sputters out, he assumed they were thinking.

Marcus ended up carrying a greater amount of the supplies than you for the trek. He relished the burn in his calves and thighs, because it sated the frenetic thoughts buzzing around his skull from the strange day. You'd ask about it after catching your breath at the campsite.

He used to be highly regimented at the gym, needing to burn a specific amount of calories in a day just to feel like he could control his strangeness. He was still definitely in shape, but now he had a healthier, happier outlet that he could share with someone he loved.

The sun still shone brightly in the afternoon sky when you reached the trail that branched into the woods, leading to your designated campsite. It helped as you set up the tent and cooking area while he gathered firewood and cleared the ground of any pesky rocks or sticks. The forest was lively and green, a gentle breeze brushing against the top canopy that had him sighing in satisfaction. He loved art for the same reasons he loved everything: there was something for everyone, and he hoped everyone found that someday.

Looking back at you, he knew he did.

"Hey, let's talk about the plan for tonight."

"Alright."

"What's worrying you right now?"

"This has an AirTag in it, do not take it off." Your instructions were firm, quieting his mind and removing the weight of his worries as he sat at your feet, nearly naked. He looked like a piece of art in the half-moonlight, the other half of him lit by the small campfire that would keep you company tonight. The collar slipped around his neck, heavy and well-made. He preferred the distributed, heavy weight, for it served as a reminder that he didn't carry anything else with him in this headspace. "Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Good," you said, kissing his head before securing his little ears to the messy tresses atop his head. You used a truly obscene amount of bobby pins and clips, but had chosen a pair Marcus wasn't particularly attached to. You knew that Marcus could get a little rougher in his playtime outside, and things might get lost in the underbrush. He gave a short shake of his head to test their hold.

You attached a belt bag around his torso that held a short-wave radio in case he needed to call you, a protein bar, a water bottle, his phone, and a small first-aid kit. "There have been no dangerous animal sightings out in the woods all week, they think there may have been a fallen tree or something that blocked whatever natural bridge they normally use to get around the mountain. It'll just be you and the birds out there, probably." You knew he didn't need all this information while he was in a simplified headspace, but you wanted him to at least know subconsciously that there were no monsters lurking in the woods with him. The trail awaited, and you stepped away from his path.

"Thank you," he said suddenly, voice thick with emotion that had bubbled up in seconds. His temperament was little to none in his puppy-space, so he felt everything, all the time, and it was okay. "Thank you."

You looked nothing but happy for him as you kissed him softly. You followed it up with a short tug on the O-ring on his collar, pulling a wanton groan from his mouth. His eyes went a little hazy before refocusing at the sound of the clicker in your hand.

"When the radio says come back, take out your phone and follow the beacon back immediately. Immediately."

"Immediately."

"Immediately, Marcus."

"I promise."

"I know you do. Here's your flashlight. Go have fun, pup."

Marcus stopped sprinting through the trees when he felt his thoughts go from the familiar happy, instinctual assessment of his surroundings to somber recollections of the day. He shook his head hard and grounded himself back in the moment, back in the scene he had with himself.

No reason to bring that in here with me. No beasts but I.

His eyes caught on a moonbeam breaking through the treetops, pointing toward a rock ledge that held the vantage for a perfect view over most of the mountain. He climbed up it, letting his interests pull him back from whatever was pulling him away.

The moon was high, full and bright and almost tinted crystal blue, it was so clear. A part of him thought about how happy he was for you, happy that the night had come in dressed to the nines just for you. There wasn't a cloud above him, despite the cool air. Something about the moon's appearance had him falling to his knees and leaning back on his heels just to look up at it in awe. It was a good time for a rest, anyway.

Maybe his life wasn't meant for arguing the sins and virtues of actively choosing joy for oneself. Maybe he was allowed to see where to choose to be more compassionate and mindful, and not let expectations dictate his character. Maybe Marcus was avoiding the mental homework surrounding his thought patterns because the answer seemed too simple to be true: he'd accepted that he was finally, perfectly fine.

A sob broke out from his chest, loud and raw. His lunar audience watched dutifully as tears streamed down his face, his cries echoing and fading into the nature around him. He was alone but never lonely. He was fine company to keep. He would have never gained this kind of confidence had you not showed him that he was worth being proud of, and he would have never dreamed that he could find someone he trusted enough to choose joy around.

His cries grew into laughter, a signal of acceptance of his ridiculous happiness. The tears remained, wetting the fabric of his shirt, his pants, seeping in beneath the leather of his collar. Nothing but gratitude radiated from his soul, and it warmed him from his bones to his skin and beyond. The ache in his throat felt amazing, almost holy, and with a bubbling of pride and primal instinct, Marcus howled at the moon.

He didn't know how much time had passed, but his voice was gone by the time he heard the radio crackle to life, your voice coming down the line. "Time to come back, pup."

Marcus smiled, and returned back to where he belonged: by your side.

#puppy marcus #marcus pike x reader #gn!reader #unhingery #danktober 2022 #pedro pascal fanfiction

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