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birchwoodheart · 3 months

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a small sample of my ao3 bookmarks that make me Insane

Instructions for Stealing Stars by BowAndAroAce

Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series

Rating/Warnings: Teen, No Warnings Apply

Relationships: No Romantic Relationships, Pearl & Scott & Cleo

Status: WIP, 10/14 Chapters

Description: Prison never would've been Scott's vacation of choice. The food is bad, the clothes are hideous, and worst of all, he has very little time for his true passion: thievery. But now that he's newly free after three years, he has plans for something big, and he knows he can't do it alone.

Cleo is trying her best to be content. Her gang, the Crastle, is one of the most feared in the city and she has a decent stake in the city's illicit trade of magic. Things are good, if monotonous. But that might just change after she receives a visit from an old friend, and an offer she can't refuse.

Pearl swears up and down that her life isn't a mess. She finally has a normal job and normal friends, and she's only mildly paranoid. She also swore that she'd never do another heist again, but that was before Scott found her, and dragged her back into the past she wanted to leave behind.

One last job. That was the promise. How hard could it be?

TLDR: Three Gs fantasy prohibition, a team of thieves with a spotty past come together for one last hiest, but they may be in deeper than they thought.

600 Feet Down Below by archisane

Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP

Rating/Warnings: Teen, No Warnings Apply

Relationships: No Romantic Relationships, Mumbo & Grian & Impulse & Pearl & Scar

Status: WIP, 22/? Chapters

Description: The five people who call themselves the "Boatem Crew" have lived in an abandoned underground city for years. They watched as the Dark took over, spreading to each and every corner, but they also watched life flourish under their watchful eyes and careful hands. And though they remember life on the surface, yearn for it, none of them know how they got down there. They just know how to survive.

When earthquakes start mysteriously shaking their city, they have to figure out exactly what it means, and how they want to move forward from here on out. Because they aren't the average earthquakes. Something sinister is brewing above their heads.

TLDR: Boatem has learned to live quietly and semi-contentedly in an Ancient City, with a unique way of communicating, when suddenly the possibility of returning to the surface crashed down on them, and they have to figure out what they want to do about it.

No World Conquered by Oregano_man

Fandoms: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series, Hermitcraft SMP

Rating/Warnings: Mature, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Relationships: No Romantic Relationships, Pearl & Scott, Grian & Pearl, Grian & Scar, Gem & Pearl, Gem & Scar

Status: WIP, 14/25 Chapters

TLDR: Pearl is trapped inside of Double Life after it ends, turning into something unlike her, something much darker. Grian, Scar, Scott, Gem, and Cleo go back in to rescue her, but nothing goes to plan.

Description: The Double Life event ends and the players are returned to their original homes as they always are after the games conclusions, reeling and shakily picking up the pieces of themselves after the experience. Yet life can't really seem to go on. A very important piece of their lives, especially the Hermit's lives, is missing. Why the hell is taking Pearl so long to come back?

Back in the Double life server, inside of the ever looming inpenetrable dome, a red-hooded figure remains.

Ontological covariance OR How to become human in 3,427 easy steps by smokingginger

Fandom: Hermitcraft SMP

Rating/Warnings: Teen, No Warnings Apply

Relationships: No Romantic Relationships, Gem & Impulse & Pearl

Status: WIP, 3/? Chapters

Description: Space is dangerous.

On a routine mission to deliver terraforming supplies the ship Helianthia is damaged beyond repair and her AI has to make a hard choice to save the lives of her crew. When the dust has cleared her crew is left with the aftermath of her choices and questions about what happened.

TLDR: Soup Group in space, Pearl is an AI that chooses to put her consciousness into a synthetic human body in order to save the remaining crew on her ship, everyone is learning to live with this.

Heavenly Bodies by Nine_of_Diamonds

Fandoms: Hermitcraft SMP, 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series

Rating/Warnings: GA, No Warnings Apply

Relationships: No Romantic Relationships, Grian & Pearl

Status: Finished, 2/2 Chapters

Description: You know how the game is going to end when you hear the rustling sounds approaching. You have to crane your neck to hear them—Grian has a habit of walking like he’s barely tethered to the ground, toe-first and light as a feather—but eventually, the sounds stop just outside your hiding hole, and you know you’ve been caught.

“Found you,” he says, bending down triumphantly. From your vantage point, he’s standing just in front of the sun, framed in light. You’re still young so you can’t find the words to describe the impression he leaves on you at the time, but when he’s gone, you’ll remember him as being radiant.

The old gods are dead—at least, that's what everyone says.

Pearl doesn't care much for divine matters, though. She only wishes she could be left to mourn her brother in peace instead of being sacrificed to the new pantheon.

TLDR: Pearl and Grian are siblings, who are secretly reincarnated gods that get reunited.

Can't Go Back (This Time) by musicaltvbooks

Fandoms: Hermitcraft SMP, Afterlife SMP

Rating/Warnings: Teen, No Warnings Apply

Relationships: No Romantic Relationships, Gem & Impulse & Pearl

Status: Finished, 10/10 Chapters

Description: Going through a portal was always an interesting experience. With a nether portal, it felt almost too warm and suffocating, like you’re walking through a desert while wearing thick pants and a coat. Going through the end portal felt both like the exact opposite while also being the same. It was the feeling of cold washing over you, freezing you to the core, unable to move a single muscle for fear you would shatter, before it ushered in a heat you could feel down to your bones, leaving your hands aching and prickling while feeling came back into them and sweat pooling all over your skin. It wasn’t Pearl's favorite sensation, but it was a necessary one if she wanted to get wings and shulker boxes, so she endured it.

TLDR: Soup Group explores a new stronghold on Hermitcraft, somehow ends up in the Afterlife End and starts developing origins, they meet Lizzie and she tries to convince them to stay, their attempts to get back are constantly unsuccessful, ambiguous ending.

Flower Wasting by Moonstone_Kat

Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series

Rating/Warnings: Teen, Major Character Death

Relationships: No Romantic Relationships, Pearl & Tilly, Jimmy & Pearl, Pearl & Tango

Status: Finished, 3/3 Chapters

Description: Pearl coughs, and petals float out of her mouth.

She stares at them, panic brewing in her chest. That… is not normal. Tilly walks over, sniffing them, and Pearl pushes her snout away. She kneels, gathering the petals with a gentleness that surprises her.

She goes to dump them off the edge, but can’t find it in herself to let them blow away in the light breeze. She tries to put them into her inventory, but they don’t disappear, remaining in her hands. Finally, she resigns herself to putting them in a chest. But instead of putting them in one of the chests she already has, she makes a new one, setting it down out of the way, tucked in a corner where the walls will be.

The petals aren’t natural, Pearl knows. No one coughs up flower petals. She doesn’t know why she has, but there’s no denying they came from her mouth. So until she figures out why it happened, she’s going to keep them.

She ignores the strange possessiveness that makes her hands twitch, and returns to building.

TLDR: Double Life Pearl platonic Hanahaki, it gets worse before it gets better, and then it gets worse again.

Psst. Click here if you want to see more!

#traffic smp #hc #birchwood.txt

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safarigirlsp · 2 years

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Santa’s Little Helper

Santa’s Little Helper

Gunfighter Flip Zimmerman x Reader

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Flip Hating Life. Humor.

Christmas Song Prompt: Run Run Rudolph

AO3 Link

Somethin’ about the holidays always brings out the craziest of folks, US Marshal Flip Zimmerman thought, like the snow and cold get into ‘em, makin’ ‘em want to act up more than usual to keep warm. Or some damn thing like that. Flip didn’t know the reason, but he knew damn well that it was a truth he could take to the bank. During the months of November and December, people were going to make his life hell. Come Christmastime, the cells in his jailhouse were always full and the judges were tryin’ to book him up for hearings to schedule all the hangings needed in the new year.

1886 had been a helluva year so far for Marshal Zimmerman. He’d love to complain more about it, and he often did, but it was also the year that he had met his perfect new wife, so he figured he couldn’t bitch quite as much as usual.

As the snow piled deeper and deeper with Christmas comin’ up soon, all Flip wanted to do was stay at home in his cabin next to a nice warm fire, holdin’ his girl in his arms and forget anything existed outside of the fence around his ranch.

Of course, he couldn’t fuckin’ do that.

A continuous ruckus of pissed off men and concerned women had been paradin’ in and out of his office all damned week. Each and every one of ‘em complainin’ about one of the town’s more eccentric citizens.

Old man Nick, a hermit miner who lived out in the mountains in a cabin on the parcel where he had staked his claim decades ago, rarely ventured into town. He was only seen when he needed supplies or to exchange a few meager crumbs of gold nuggets for cash money at the bank. Townsfolk didn’t much like Nick, and he didn’t much like them right back.

This year, for some damn reason, Nck had been a bigger pain in Flip’s ass than usual. Flip was one of the few men Nick would talk to, and as such, the burden of dealin’ with him always fell on Flip’s shoulders. Flip had saved his old ass from gettin’ bushwhacked or even shot on more occasions than he could count.

Now, to hear people tell of it, Nick was out pissin’ off everyone in town right in time for Christmas. The surly miner had been seen in the earliest hours of the mornin’ postin’ long lists all over the place, like they were wanted posters for the James Gang. Written in bold script at the top of each was “Naughty List” and below followed a list of townsfolk. Some citizens who considered themselves mighty upstandin’ even made the naughty cut; judges, lawyers, bankers, ministers, and so on. Flip even found his own name on one such list, labeled, “Flip Shoot First and Ask Questions Later Zimmerman.” Not that Flip gave a damn himself. He’d been called worse.

Nevertheless, Flip was graciously volunteered by the town to ride out and have a chat with the miner. Even the Judge himself told Flip to get his ass out there and settle Nick down, and the Judge was a man who even Flip didn’t want to get sideways of.

Such were the events as Flip relayed them to you as he held you tight in his arms where he had pulled you into his lap, in his favorite chair next to the fireplace in his cabin.

“It’s a full day’s ride to get out there to Nick’s mine,” Flip told you, a pout on his lips as he nuzzled into your neck. “I’ll leave first thing in the mornin.’ With any damned luck at all, I’ll be back the next day.”

“Not with your luck,” you replied, running a hand through his hair as Flip huffed a laugh at the unfortunate truth of your words. “I’m going with you.”

“Like hell you are, sugar.” Flip shook his head adamantly, thinking for a moment that he might win the argument.

“The weather’s been nice and the snow isn’t that deep,” you told him, ignoring his glower. “Besides, you need me along to protect you.”

“To protect me, huh?” Flip grinned at you despite himself, resting his head against the back of his chair and appraising you. “How’s that?”

“You’re so brave. The bravest man I know,” you told him, stroking his chest affectionately. “Therefore, you are prone to great feats of stupidity. You need me to keep you in check and save you from yourself.”

Flip laughed at your comment, giving your ass a playful pinch. He chewed his lip for a moment, considering a retort before sighing in resignation. “I reckon you have a point, sugar.”

*******************************************************************************************

The following sunrise brought with it clear skies over the glistening white snow-covered ground. Riding beside Flip in the crisp dawn, you couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked astride his big buckskin horse, a hand-rolled cigarette clenched between his teeth, its smoke mingling with Flip’s fogged breath. He wore the new Pendleton wool coat you had gifted him for his recent birthday, red plaid with a cream shearling collar, and his spurs jingled with every step of his horse. You had an even warmer wool coat in charcoal grey with a likewise shearling collar; the back split for riding, it hung down to your knees, keeping your legs warm in the freezing temperatures.

Riding deeper into the mountains throughout the day, the snowy trail Flip led you on twisted high toward the snowcapped peaks. Nick’s mine sat at the head of a mountain canyon, heavily wooded with busy green pine trees and aspen that were now devoid of leaves, naked in the winter months.

“Stay behind me,” Flip instructed you, spurring his horse ahead of yours when you entered a small clearing. Not far ahead was a small cabin seated against the rock of the mountain, smoke trailing up from its chimney into the evening sky.

As if on cue, you heard the tell-tale sizzle of a bullet flying through the air above your heads immediately before the sound of the gunshot reached your ears, echoing off the surrounding rock walls of the canyon. Flinching in your saddle, you yanked your pistol from its holster, as your black horse reared in fright.

Beside you, Flip was calm, reining his own startled horse to stand still. Strangely, he had not drawn his own gun, looking only mildly annoyed.

“Nick!” Flip bellowed in his loudest booming voice. “If you shoot again, you old bastard, I’m gonna shoot back.”

There was silence for a moment as Flip waited, grinding his teeth impatiently.

“Marshal, is that you?” Nick shouted back, a gruff drawl sounding from inside the cabin. “Well, quit fuckin’ around outside in the cold. Come in.”

The door to the cabin opened, revealing a firelit interior, although Nick didn’t come out to greet you. Grumbling under his breath, Flip rode ahead, motioning for you to follow. Near the cabin, a haphazard fence enclosed a dilapidated stable. A pair of tawney mules pricked their ears at you and Flip as you both approached. Flip rode to the fence, stepping off his horse and tying him and yours to the fence as you dismounted.

“I guess I should have warned you,” Flip said with a sheepish grin, taking your hand to lead you inside the cabin.

“What brings you out this way, Marshal?” Nick asked Flip upon your entry into his cabin before his eyes settled on you. He was a large man, nearly as large as Flip, with a thick head of white hair and a long white beard that hung down his chest. He wore only a pair of red long-johns and cowboy boots, blushing as red as their fabric at the sight of you. “This must be the missus I’ve heard so much about. The one people say is far too pretty to be shacked up with an old hound like you.”

“People say that, huh?” Flip growled, looking from Nick to you and back. “Well, they also say that you’ve gone and lost whatever few fuckin’ marbles you ever had.”

“So what if I have?” Nick shrugged with a laugh. “I don’t give two shits about what anyone says about me. Or thinks. Or any other goddamn thing they may say or do for that matter.”

“I hear tell you’ve been makin’ lists and tackin’ ‘em up all over town,” Flip continued, shrugging out of his coat now that he was inside the warmth of the cabin.

“I did,” Nick admitted, lowering his shaggy white head like a scolded puppy.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to go around tellin’ people that they’ve been bad?” Flip asked, planting his hands on his hips and glaring at the man for added effect.

“Well, Marshal, now that you say it out loud...” Nick’s words trailed away, choosing to laugh instead. Watching the old man, Flip’s scowl turned into a grin, making him chew the side of his cheek to keep from laughing outright himself. You knew that look all too well.

“What?” you asked, stepping closer to him. “What are you thinking and not saying?”

“Just a joke is all.” Flip laughed to himself. “But it’s not worth makin.’”

You only raised your eyebrows at him, giving him a silent command.

“All right. All right.” Flip raised his hands in surrender, a pink blush tinting his cheeks. “So, Nick, you must know all the naughty women in town? You ‘n me both.”

“I see,” you said, teasing him with mock derision. “Any guesses on what’s not happening when we get home now?” you teased, knowing full well you wouldn’t carry out your threat, but it was fun to rile him anyway.

“It’s just a joke, sugar,” Flip assured you, his face reflecting actual terror for a moment at your threat. Shaking his head, he returned his attention to Nick. “So, am I gonna have to come back out here again because people in town are complainin’ about your sorry ass?”

“No, I reckon not, Marshal,” Nick sighed, sinking down heavily into a chair by the fireplace. A black kitten emerged from the shadows, jumping up onto Nick’s lap and purring loudly when the man patted its head.

“Good, you’re learnin,’” Flip said, turning back to you, rubbing your back with his perpetually warm hand. “Are you up for makin’ the ride back tonight?”

Before you could answer, Nick interjected, “It can’t be a coincidence that you’re here tonight, Marshal. I might could use your help with somethin.’”

Flip groaned audibly, glaring at Nick, waiting for him to get to the point.

“I’m dyin.’ I can feel it comin,’” Nick said evenly as though he was discussing the weather. “And I have somethin’ I want to do before I keel over.”

“You’re too much of a pain in my ass to die off,” Flip scoffed. “Have yourself a drink and forget that line of thinkin.’”

“No, I’m dyin,’ Marshal. Just like you can tell when an old horse can’t hardly get up no more and he ain’t gonna make it through the winter.” Nick held Flip’s gaze firmly, his icy blue eyes unblinking under his bushy white eyebrows. “I want you to help me with somethin.’ Consider it a last request.”

“What is it, then?” Flip grumbled, his posture slumping slightly as he relented.

“I always liked kids. I wanted a whole pack of ‘em, myself,” Nick began, before laughing bitterly to himself and gesturing around his small cabin. “But this ain’t exactly the lifestyle a lot of womenfolk want for themselves.” Sighing to himself, he continued before Flip tried to offer some empty placation. “I’ve spent my life out here down in that godforsaken mineshaft, and now I don’t know what in the hell to do with myself. I can’t take gold with me where I’m goin.’”

“Gold?” Flip huffed incredulously. “This mine’s been dry for decades. Everyone knows that.”

“Hmmm. I wonder how it is that everyone knows what they think they know.” Nick grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Pushing up from his chair with a groan, he set the black kitten down on his dinner table, letting it eat some scraps from an earlier meal, before walking past you and Flip back out of his cabin. “Follow me.”

It was nearly dark when you stepped back outside into the wintery chill, the mountains tinted purple with the evening glow. Nick led you both around to the back of his cabin to a newly constructed corral. Inside it was a small herd of eight reindeer, all of whom raised their heads to look at the strangers. They were little creatures, only standing around the height of Flip’s gunbelt, with thick coats and pronged antlers. Beside the fence was a sleigh that Nick had clearly constructed himself and painted a vibrant shade of whorehouse red.

“You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” Flip groaned at the sight, shaking his head. “You really have lost your goddamn mind.”

“So what if I have?” Nick laughed, clapping Flip roughly on the back and earning a glare in response. “But crazy or not, I’ve spent the last few months makin’ toys and knickknacks for the kiddos instead of bein’ down in that mine once it started to get cold here. I could use a hand gettin’ ‘em all delivered for Christmas.”

You walked to the fence, holding your hand out through the railing. A pair of the reindeer approached you cautiously, sniffing your hand before they allowed you to pet their fluffy necks.

“’C’mere, girls,” Nick said to the animals, shaking a can full of grain to call them closer for you.

“Girls?” Flip asked, cocking an eyebrow at Nick.

“That’s right. Girls. All of ‘em,” Nick said as he patted the head of a reindeer. “The stags shed their antlers in the winter. I can’t hardly have bald reindeer, now can I?”

“You should have wrangled up some caribou instead. At least they’d be full size.” Flip glared at one of the offending reindeer who looked at him curiously, ears forward, raising her nose to smell his scent on the air. “These things look more like antlered goats.”

“Caribou would hardly be authentic,” Nick replied seriously, shaking his bushy head.

“Christ, you’re really playin’ this Santa card for all it’s worth,” Flip scowled, looking at you for your position on the matter.

“He’s right, Flip,” you agreed, seeing the way Nick beamed as you spoke. “You know the mountains better than anyone and you’re the best man to have in a bind.” Flip’s expression had turned into something between a grimace and a pout at the turn his evening had taken. Playfully poking him in the ribs, you couldn’t resist teasing, “Besides, how often do you get a chance to be Santa’s Littler Helper?”

“You’re real fuckin’ funny, sugar.” Flip shook his head at you before telling Nick, “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

“Good man,” Nick exclaimed happily, pushing you both back toward his cabin. “Now, let me feed you and the missus and we’ll head out when the moon rises. With the full moon shinin’ on the snow, it’ll be just as good as daylight.”

“What could possibly go wrong?” Flip huffed sarcastically.

*******************************************************************************************

Once the moon began to rise over the peaks of the surrounding mountains, the snowy landscape alighted in a silvery glow, easily bright enough to see for miles in every direction. Nick shuffled about in a heavy red coat hitching his recalcitrant team of reindeer up to their harnesses, tethered to the sleigh. They didn’t look broke in any sense of the word, let alone trained to pull as a team. They pawed the snow, struggled in their harnesses, and butted each other with their antlers.

Standing close by, you held both yours and Flip’s horses, watching while Flip helped Nick with his sleigh, bitching under his fogged breath as he slipped and stumbled in the snow. Your two horses eyed the team of strange animals skeptically, arching their necks, blowing and snorting indignantly at the antlered creatures.

The final item to be loaded into the sleigh was an enormous heavy canvas bag that Flip hefted into the back of the sleigh. Filled to the brim with toys and trinkets, the bag took up the entirety of the sleigh behind the driver’s bench. Flip also loaded extra lengths of rope and long leather reins into the sleigh along with provisions Nick had prepared for the long night’s journey.

Walking back to you, Flip took the reins of both horses from you, holding your horse while you lifted yourself into the saddle. Flip swung up onto his own horse after you, catching your eye as he adjusted his seat and sighing dejectedly at the task ahead of you both.

Flip rode out ahead, leading the way for you and then the sleigh behind. The route led you first through a valley, winding between the mountains that rose on all sides. Around you, the haunting howls of wolves sounded in the distance, echoing on all sides. The two horses pranced nervously and the reindeer snorted and startled in their harnesses, trying to scatter but unable to do so while tethered together. Nick smacked the long reins down across their hindquarters, pushing the untrained animals ahead.

“Should we be worried?” you asked as another howl cut through the frigid night air.

“About them?” Flip made a point of looking around the moonlit mountains, before returning his gaze to you, winking when he caught your eye. “I think I’m bigger and meaner than a few wolves, sugar.”

Riding through the valley, you gained in elevation, traversing several switchbacks of a pass. The thin alpine air grew icier and the snow deepened with the rising altitude, making your horses step high and the reindeer huff and struggle to pull the heavy sleigh. The snow soon deepened to the level of the animals’ bellies and, being weighed down by the sleigh and the heavy man and bag inside, it threatened to trap them where they stood like quicksand.

Flip dismounted, having trouble trudging through the snow himself. Using the extra reins, he hitched his own buckskin horse to the front of the team. Hoisting himself back up into the saddle, Flip spurred his horse ahead. Struggling against the reins, his horse pushed through the snow, pulling the team and sleigh on through the roughest part of the pass. You followed behind, coming up the rear in the trail cut by the team and sleigh. Flip’s growling and grumbling paired with Nick’s laughter could be heard even above the panting and grunting of the struggling animals.

A series of narrow switchbacks led you through the mountain pass onto easier terrain with sparser trees and shallower snow as you descended toward civilization. A few outlying ranches were scattered throughout the lower elevation in the mountains. Flip continued to pull the brunt of the sleigh’s weight to ease the burden of the much smaller reindeer until the trail became easier once more.

Rounding a final cutback brought you all into view of the valley below, shining in the moonlight. Suddenly, Flip’s horse balked, sinking his haunches back in the snow, before rearing and whinnying in fright. Ahead, in the trail walking toward the team was a hulking grizzly bear, lumbering casually up the mountain. The bear stood around four-feet tall at his shoulders on all fours and was gelatinously fat, his body rippling with every heavy step, and bushy brown fur ruffling in the breeze.

Cursing his horse, Flip kept his seat when the animal reared again, struggling against his harness and the reins Flip held tight, keeping him from bolting. The bear raised its head, looking curiously at the sight before him, lifting his nose to sniff the scent of the foreign reindeer. The small team was also spooked and panicked, but unable to run in any direction, with the sleigh behind them and Flip’s horse in front.

“Nick, get your old ass up here!” Flip barked as he kicked a leg over his saddle horn and jumped down to the snowy ground. He tossed his reins to Nick when he approached, warily eyeing the grizzly.

“I’ve never seen a grizzly so big,” Nick said, taking the reins and aiming a lever action rifle at the bear, who still calmly regarded the spectacle before him, titling his giant head with curiosity.

“I have,” Flip muttered, walking ahead toward the bear. Removing his hat, he waved it at the bear as if trying to shoo away a troublesome pest. “Get outta here, big fella. Go home.”

“What the hell are you doing, Flip?!” you shouted, drawing your pistol and training it on the mass of brown fur over Flip’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry, sugar.” Flip laughed. “We go way back.”

Chuffing in the air at the sound of Flip’s voice, the grizzly bounded heavily forward to meet Flip, letting out something like a groan. Your finger was tightening on the trigger when the bear lowered his head, shoving it into Flip’s chest and bumping him backward from its strength. Flip only laughed, lifting his hand to scratch the bear roughly behind one of its ears like a giant dog. The bear groaned again, apparently a happy sound, and rubbed his head against Flip’s chest like a cat wanting to be petted.

“Bears hibernate durin’ the winter,” Flip said over his shoulder while the enormous bear knocked him backwards with every rub of his head. “Unless they’re someone’s pet and fat as hell like old Teddy here. Mr. Logan caught him as a cub and raised him. There’s nothin’ better to keep the wolves and lions away from your cattle and horses than this big bastard.”

You laughed with relief along with Nick. Of course, Flip would be friends with the fucking bear.

“Alright, Teddy,” Flip crooned, giving the bear a few final pats on his head before pointing back down the trail. “Go home. Get your fat ass outta here. Go on.”

Sighing through his nose, the bear dropped his head at being rebuffed and begrudgingly turned and ambled back down the trail toward the ranches below. Flip grinned at you when he turned to walk back to his horse. He took the opportunity to unhitch his horse from the sleigh before grabbing the reins back from Nick and swinging up into the saddle.

A rosy tint was creeping into the navy night sky when you reached the outlying ranches on the edge of town, a crisp clear Christmas morning. Whipping his reindeer into a run where the trail grew less rugged, Nick rushed past you and Flip, making your horses shy away from the red sleigh.

Nick raced ahead to each of the ranch houses outside of town, leaving parcels on their porches or doorsteps. In lieu of a nametag, each gift wrapped in simple brown paper and twine was finished with a gold nugget tied in its bow.

Following behind the sleigh, you and Flip closed in on town, greeted by a few shimmering candlelit windows in the early dawn. A final descent from the surrounding foothills was the last leg of your trek. Nick took the last slope down into town at a run, much faster than good sense would dictate.

By all appearances to any onlooker, the team of reindeer and sleigh seemed to leave the ground in a flurry of kicked up powdery snow, as they flew down the hillside into town. Santa’s booming laughter could be heard echoing through the empty streets in the otherwise still and silent morning. The sights and sounds of the spectacle Nick created was the morning salutation for many of the townsfolk who peeked their heads out of doorways or walked out into the street. Citizens watched in disbelief as Santa slowed his team of reindeer to an uneasy walk, the animals unused to other humans and the other trappings of town, and began handing out gifts to the women and children.

Flip rode next to the sleigh on one side, you on the opposite, keeping the reindeer buttressed between your horses so they didn’t spook and run away with the sleigh when Nick got out to take presents to doorsteps of the houses that still slept.

One small girl ventured out of her door to see what was causing the commotion when Nick lumbered up her steps to deposit a gift on the porch. Much to Nick’s amusement, she promptly asked Santa why he was late, before smiling brightly at the sight of the present and giving him a hearty bearhug. No doubt, she would remember meeting Santa for the rest of her life.

The next stop on the line was a run-down house with a sagging porch on which Nick left four presents. Just as Nick put the parcels down, the door burst open, the barrel of 30-30 shoved out and into Nick’s face.

“Who the hell are you?” the man holding the gun slurred aggressively.

Rushing up the porch steps, Flip’s right hand hovered over his gun when he growled at the man, “You’re still drunk from last night, McCabe. Can’t you see this is Santa?”

The drunkard’s flushed face showed his confusion, his eyebrows pinching together as he squinted to look at the large man in red with his white hair and beard.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned,” the man said in awe, his eyes widening with wonder, lowering his rifle as four urchinly children rushed out of the door excitedly.

Flip put his hand on Nick’s shoulder, directing him back toward his sleigh in the street.

“Good to see you pullin’ your weight there, Marshal,” Nick teased, patting Flip on the back in response to Flip’s glare.

You smiled at Flip when he remounted his horse, slumping in the saddle, and clearly having had enough hassle in the past day to last him the remainder of the year.

“You’re pretty good at being Santa’s Little Helper,” you told him with a smile, laughing when he fixed you with a more playful version of his scowl.

“I’ve had about enough of this cold bullshit,” he groused, gritting his teeth. “I’m ready to get home and open the only present I ever want.”

Making your way thoroughly through town, you and Flip helped Nick complete his Santa run and deliver all the presents he had planned for all the kids in the town and the surrounding ranches. Flip’s only consolation was that the route was slowly winding back in the general direction of his own cabin.

Finally, Nick reined his sleigh to a stop after visiting the last ranch house. It was now late enough in the morning that the woman of the house offered to serve you all a hot meal. Nick was all too eager to accept, and although Flip’s stomach growled from his ravenous hunger, he wanted nothing more than to get home with you.

In an act of mercy, Nick decided to release Flip from his duty before accepting the woman’s offer of breakfast. Nick waved for Flip to step down off his horse under the guise of needing help with the harness of a reindeer, instead speaking to Flip with a grave seriousness when he approached.

“When I do kick the bucket, I expect you to take care of my livestock, reindeer included, and my kitten,” Nick told Flip, reaching to shake his hand and not releasing his hold until Flip nodded his very reluctant consent.

You could see how Flip tried his best not to grimace at the thought of inheriting a team of eight unruly reindeer, a pair of mules that were probably more stubborn than he was, and a kitten that you would insist stayed inside the cabin with you. You smiled at him when he noticed your gaze, and he knew all too well exactly what you were thinking.

At the very bottom of Nick’s now empty bag was a smaller leather satchel. Nick retrieved it, shoving it into Flip’s hands. The bag was surprisingly heavy, its contents clinking together inside like stones.

“You deserve a bag of coal, Marshal, grouchy bastard that you are,” Nick told Flip with a friendly smile by way of thanking him. “But this is the best I could do.” Nick then turned his attention to you, taking your hand and raising it to his lips like a gentleman. “Keep this sonofabitch in line, and don’t let him give you any hell neither.”

*******************************************************************************************

Finally back home inside your cabin with Flip, after you had both bathed and eaten, you stood by the fireplace. Wearing only one of Flip’s shirts, you enjoyed the heat on your tired body. The bag of coal Nick had given Flip had been deposited in your bedroom before your bath, now laying forgotten on your floor. Flip walked behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and handing you a tin mug filled with hot tea and spiked with whiskey and cinnamon.

“Do you want to get some shuteye, sugar?” Flip asked next to your ear, his rich voice rumbling low. “Or can I unwrap my present first?”

“Are you going to make it worth my while?” you teased. Turning in his arms you reached for his lapel, pulling him down to meet your lips.

“I always do.” He smirked against your lips. His searing kiss burned hotter than the whiskey in your cup when your mouth parted, allowing his hot tongue to lick into you. Your hand at his lapel rose to grab the back of his neck, pulling him harder against you, clawing at his skin and twisting into his dense hair.

Flip’s hand trailed up under the hem of your shirt, his coarse broad palm smoothing against the skin of your back, pressing your body closer to his, as he kissed you with all the passion he had. Reaching to unbutton his own shirt that you wore, he kissed you deeply as he pushed the fabric away from your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and revealing your bare body to him. His hand cupped your breast, gripping and squeezing you, as his calloused palm rubbed against your pert nipple. The rough texture of his palm contrasting with the softness of his touch had you sighing against his lips, your back arching in pleasure, pushing your tits out further for him.

Using his hand on your breast and his other hand at your hip, he pushed you back, directing you backward toward his bedroom without taking his masterful lips away from yours. You brought your hands to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them as you let him lead you to his bed. Your hands then moved to the expansive plane of his dense chest, loving the way his muscle felt beneath your touch.

Inside the bedroom, Flip broke your kiss, his eyes finding yours in the dim light, desire and affection shining brightly in their amber depths. He peeled his shirt off, throwing it aside, before reaching to your skin, reverently following your curves with his touch, caressing you gently. His hands skimmed your tits and sides, before moving down to your ass.

You reached to his pants, yanking his belt free and dipping your hand inside. His cock was already hard, hot, and throbbing under your touch. A groan rumbled low through his chest when you wrapped your hand as far around him as possible, making him buck into your grip. Flip’s head dropped to kiss at your neck. His mouth was open now, licking and nipping at your skin, as you gave his cock a few solid pumps. You loved the feel of him, from his thick velvety tip down the rigid length that pulsed in your hand.

Shoving his pants the rest of the way down his thickly muscled thighs, his heavy cock arched upward proudly when it swung free. Flip pushed you softly back onto the bed. You laughed as you fell backward, smiling up at him. He stood beside the bed, admiring you for a moment, beaming with love for you. The mattress dipped with his weight when he crawled over you, kissing his way up your body.

Returning his lips to yours, he kissed you deeply, as he nudged his cock into you, stretching you deliciously when he sank in inch by girthy inch. “Your little pussy always feels so fuckin’ good, sugar. So wet. So fuckin’ tight on my cock,” Flip groaned when his cock filled you completely, his hips flush against you.

When he started rocking into you, slowly at first before thrusting more firmly, you couldn’t help but dig your nails into the meat of his back, wordlessly telling him how much you wanted more. Raising your legs higher up his waist, allowing him to slide in even deeper, you met his thrusts with your own motions. Flip’s angle was perfect, as always, each drag of his cock sending a current of pleasure coursing through you.

Growling hungrily at the feel of you, Flip increased his pace, slamming his hips against you. Sounds of skin slapping against skin and of your shared panted breaths soon filled the room. You could only moan in response to the sensations he gave you. Your hands moved to twist into his thick hair, tugging harshly, as your pleasure quickly built.

Flip felt your pussy tighten around his cock, wanting more of him, and your thighs squeezing him harder, your hands gripping him desperately. He pumped into you as hard as he could, feeling your pussy flutter and clench in response.

Moaning Flip’s name in ecstasy, you came hard around his cock, pleasure shooting through you in time with his hard thrusts. Flip groaned through gritted teeth, his eyebrows pinched together, straining to fuck you while your pussy pulsed around him.

Once your body went limp beneath him, he allowed his rhythm to falter, sloppily fucking you until his own orgasm crested. Slamming his cock into you up to the hilt, he throbbed inside of you, filling you up with his heat. You shivered at the feeling of his warmth spreading through you and his heavy weight relaxing down on top of you.

With his cock still pulsing inside you, Flip returned his lips to yours. His kisses were less skillful now, his lips pulled into a smile instead of kissing you properly. Looping your arms tight around his neck, you pulled him down harder against you, making your kiss even worse, as your smiles crashed together.

Wrapping his arms around you, Flip rolled onto his back, pulling you with him and trapping you inside his arms against his massive chest. Gazing down at him, you fondly brushed his wild hair back from his forehead.

“You’re the best fuckin’ present I could ever ask for,” Flip purred, his chest rumbling beneath you. He looked at you lovingly as both your breaths evened and the sweat on your bodies began to cool.

“Let’s see how much coal Nick gave you,” you told him after a few minutes, smiling as you traced the aquiline line of his nose with your fingertip.

Groaning reluctantly at having to move out from underneath you, Flip gently pushed you off his body and rolled to his side to grab the bag off the floor. Tipping it upside down, he shook its contents out onto your bedroom floor. A collection of heavy rocks, coated in dirt and mud, rolled out of the bag in a pile, each sized somewhere between a walnut and an apple.

“That sorry bastard,” Flip laughed at the idea of Nick taking the time to put together a bag of coal for him.

“Flip, those aren’t lumps of coal,” you said quietly, in wonderment of the sight of the shimmering glint of gold that peeked out from a few places under the mud. “Those are gold nuggets.”

Flip’s eyebrows knotted together as he looked more closely, seeing that you were right. He reached to the largest nugget, large enough to fill his enormous hand entirely, and rubbed his thumb across its rough muddy surface. Unmistakable shining gold was revealed under the mud, a life’s fortune worth now piled on your bedroom floor.

“I’ll be goddamned,” Flip laughed, shaking his head. “I guess old Nick’s mine wasn’t a bust after all.”

“So, are you going to tell me I was right for telling you to help Nick?” you teased, smiling broadly at him.

“All I have to say is Merry Christmas, sugar,” Flip growled, rolling over you again and kissing you with renewed vigor.

*******************************************************************************************

Tagging some friends on the Naughty List @babbushka @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather @mrs-gucci @mrs-zimmerman @iamburdened @gabesprincess @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @darkhairedmenrule @reyloaddict55 @fizzywoohoo @heartlight-starlight @richbrittstein @clydesfavoritegirl @emi11ie @bensolodyad @danidanisara @thepalaceofmelanie @celiholland @lumberjack00fantasies

#my stuff!#my writing #winter #flip zimmerman x you #flip zimmerman x reader #gunfighter!flip #cowboy #best #fic #flip

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takenyoomies · 3 years

Text

Takeomi's "Day Off"

Title - Takeomi's "Day Off"

Rated - T

Summary - When Senju said it was his "day off", this was not what Akashi Takeomi had in mind.

Tags - Food, Movies, Wakasa Lock-picking, Swearing, Benkei Slander, Mildly OOC

Characters - Takeomi, Wakasa, Benkei, Senju, Draken(mentioned), Shinichiro(mentioned), Terano South(mentioned)

TWs - mentions of character death

Word Count - 2977

Read on AO3

The evening forecast calls for-

“Rain.”

Thunderstorms until the late evening, and it will then clear up around nine o’clock. Back to you for the local news to talk about how you can protect yourself from-

Click.

Takeomi sighed as he took another drag off of his cigarette, neatly ashing it in a black ceramic ashtray he’d found long ago in the belongings of none other than Shinichiro Sano. With his gaze affixed to the ever infinite tile ceiling, one thing crossed his mind. What was he going to do on his day away from the rest of the members of Brahman?

It wasn’t often that the scar-faced man had a rare “day off,” as Senju called them. He chuckled at the idea as he hadn’t been employed since he lost his ambitions, though all things considered, helping manage the gang members did feel like a full-time job. There was the somewhat apathetic Wakasa, who seemingly followed Senju to the ends of the earth. However, enjoyed the occasional prank. Benkei was pretty hot-headed in their quarrels. However, outside of them, he seemed to enjoy the more minor things...only to also become hot-headed about those too. Takeomi rubbed the bridge of his nose as he remembered the time they went fishing only for Benkei to pick a fight with his fishing pole for not catching him any fish. There also was Senju, his sister, who was calm for the most part until she wasn’t, and it became a game of World War between the five of them as they tried to figure out who stole the last manju from the plate in the middle of the table. And lastly, there was of course the new member of the gang, Draken, who hid mainly in the shadows and made a relatively decent hot curry.

The scar-faced man stood from the well-loved recliner, stretching his back as he made his way to the kitchen to grab a beer, “Wonder what they’re up to today…” He murmured as he opened the fridge, plucking a silver can from its place on the shelf. He turned his body to walk back towards the living room only to hear the doorbell ring. He froze in place, blinking. No one other than four people knew he lived here, and all four of those people knew it was his day off.

The bell rang again.

He pursed his lips, thinking that perhaps they would go away.

“He has to be home, and he never goes anywhere.” A deep voice stated, almost in annoyance.

“True...I don’t see the point in him going anywhere, to be honest, and it’s raining.” A tired voice replied, almost sounding bored with the situation.

Takeomi huffed, “Oh, so they think I’m a hermit?” He thought to himself, crossing his arms with a smirk.

“Well...we could always use...that.” The last voice said, the doorbell ringing one more time.

“Oh! I like that idea.” The deep voice spoke excitedly.

Takeomi blinked, wondering what that meant, only to hear the telltale sound of scratching at his door. He hurriedly rushed over, unlocking the door as he quickly realized what that was.

“How many times have I told you, if I’m not answering the door, don’t get Waka to pick the lock!” He yelled in exasperation as he whipped open the door. Benkei collapsed into the genkan while Senju and Wakasa remained kneeling outside, both looking up at the semi-tired-looking man holding a beer, a cigarette between his lips.

“Oh. Hi Takeomi.” Wakasa finally spoke with a wave, his bored face showing how unaffected he was by the man in front of him.

Benkei groaned as he rose from his position on the floor, “If you would’ve answered the door, maybe we wouldn’t have had to use Waka.” He rubbed his head, “And would it kill you to open the door slower?”

“You act as though I’m some item for you to use when you get locked out…” The two-toned-haired man retorted, standing from his crouched position, patting his pants as he put away the lock-picking kit back into his bag.

The buff man clicked his tongue, “As if that’s the biggest fucking issue here.”

Takeomi sighed, looking at the group in front of him, “What are you three even doing here?” He questioned, noticing the plastic bags, “It’s my day off.”

“Well…” Senju started, standing from her position on the ground as well, “We were going to meet up at the park, but it’s raining.”

“Yeah, I wonder who did that.” Benkei huffed sarcastically, crossing his arms.

“You can’t blame me for the rain every time.” Takeomi pointed out, taking a drag off of his cigarette.

“I can, and I fucking will.”

“Regardless of if Takeomi made it rain,” Senju cut in, looking over at the several plastic bags on the concrete behind them, “Your apartment was the closest.”

Takeomi exhaled, the smoke wrapping around him like the safety he needed in that moment as he paused to think. Yes, he could refuse them entry. Unfortunately, though, that would likely just cause them to force their way in like usual. He sighed in defeat, “Alright, get in.”

Senju smiled, “Yay!” The smallest cheered, rushing into the apartment past Takeomi and Benkei.

“Wait, shit, she’s gonna get the chair!” Bekei roared in sudden realization, attempting to blow past the other man as well, only to be stopped by an arm.

“Pick up the bags and then go fight over the chair. Don’t make Waka carry everything.” Takeomi warned, only to receive a glare in return.

“You do it if you’re so concerned.” He snapped, sliding under the arm that was blocking his path inside and rushing inside, “Hey Senju, you got it last time!”

Takeomi shook his head, “Never changes.” He looked over at the plastic bags that Wakasa was beginning to gather up, “It’s always us, huh?”

“Been that way since…” Wakasa trailed off before shrugging a bit, the lollipop in his mouth shifting, “Take these, and I’ll carry the rest.”

The older man knew what he meant by that sentence and was somewhat thankful he didn’t finish it. Sometimes he wondered if that ghost would ever stop haunting the three of them. He shook the thought as he grabbed onto the two plastic bags, peering into them and noticing the sheer amount of food.

“Just...how much did all of you buy?” He questioned, the cigarette on his lips nearly dropping in astonishment.

A hum of amusement came from Wakasa’s throat, “Senju kept putting things in the basket, and Benkei...Well, you know him.”

“And you?” Takeomi questioned, only to see the two-toned-haired man pull out a bag of lollipops. The scar-faced man's lips tilted into a smile, “How predictable.”

“Please,” Wakasa began as they walked inside, Takeomi could already hear the sounds of an argument, “My simple tastes are far superior to Benkei’s ridiculous tastes in cola-flavored garbage.”

Takeomi snorted, “I didn’t know you had a candy complex.”

Wakasa rolled his eyes, “Is that even real?”

“Beats me.” Takeomi chuckled as they made their way into the living room to see a smug-looking Senju placed in the comfortable recliner and an angry Benkei gesturing.

Benkei groaned, “Like I said, you got it last time so, get up!”

Senju smiled sweetly as she settled herself into the recliner, “No, I’m comfortable.”

You could see a vein pop on the buff man’s forehead, “Oh my god, you’re so!” He attempted to piece together before growling once more.

Senju snickered, “Use your words Benkei.”

“Senju, don’t be mean to the wildlife.” Wakasa sighed, placing the bags on the coffee table.

“I am not an animal!” Benkei yelled in offense.

“Hm. Debatable.” Wakasa shrugged as he sat down on one of the pillows.

Takeomi shook his head, placing the other plastic bags onto the table, opening his beer, taking a sip, and wrinkling his nose. Warm. However, this seemed to get the attention of Benkei.

“Hey, Takeomi, if you’re having a beer, share one with the rest of us.” The bearded man complained, strolling over to him.

“Bring your own.” He breathed, waving his spare hand at him, sitting down at the table beside Wakasa, “You just were at the store.”

“If I remember correctly, you said you were going to bum one off of Takeomi.” Wakasa’s bored voice cut in, exposing the other’s plans as he opened a bag of hard candy.

“I-I did not.” Benkei huffed, crossing his arms and looking to the side.

“I clearly recall you stating, Waka, I’m gonna get a beer from Takeomi, so I don’t have to buy a six-pack! I’m so smart, haha or something of that effect.” Wakasa mimicked the burly man set before himself, popping the lollipop out of his mouth and pointing at him with it.

Takeomi hummed, “Is that right?”

“No way, I would never say that!” Benkei denied, holding his hands up in refusal.

“Senju can confirm it, probably.” Wakasa sighed, popping the sweet back in his mouth.

“Ain’t no way she heard sh-”

“I was in the other aisle. Even I heard you say it, Benkei.” Senju confirmed.

“Okay, maybe I did say that,” Benkei muttered, looking to the side, “But come on, beer is expensive!”

“And bumming it off of me makes that okay?” Takeomi asked incredulously, shaking his head.

“Yes.” Benkei grinned, only to receive a look of disapproval from the man.

Takeomi sighed, “I’d say you’re unbelievable, though this is far too in character for you.”

Benkei snorted in amusement, “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Eyebrow twitching, the scar-faced man sighed once more, "If you could stop swearing in front of my sister, that'd be wonderful."

Benkei huffed, "I don't think she minds it."

"Well I-"

Senju waved an arm, interrupting the conversation, “Hey, can you pass me the sour gummy worms?” She asked, as if to ignore the on-going conversation about herself.

Wakasa sighed and looked over to Takeomi, “You’re closer.”

Takeomi stared daggers at Benkei, who shrugged with a lopsided grin. He turned towards Wakasa, “Fine, fine.” Takeomi groaned, putting his cigarette out into the ashtray, “Which bag are they in?”

Wakasa shrugged, opening a can of juice, “Probably the one with the candy.”

Takeomi pulled one of the bags forward, fishing around for the bag of sour candy. “Is this the right bag?” He questioned as he fumbled through the several different types of snacks.

“Probably.” Wakasa’s bored eyes peering over at the man, “Actually, they might be in the other other candy bag.”

Takeomi stopped his search to look up at the two-toned-haired man, “You mean to tell me you have two entire bags of candy?”

The accused party sighed, “Listen, blame Senju for that one.”

“Nuh-uh Waka, you pitched in to at least half the damage!” The light-haired girl chimed in, crossing her arms with a knowing look.

Benkei snorted as he sat down at the table, “And by half, that’d be one bag each.”

“Thank you. I can do basic math,” Wakasa replied, rolling his eyes and pulling the other bag forward. His fingers instantly pulling out the bag of sour gummy worms, much to Takeomi’s surprise.

“How did you…” Takeomi started, only to have the bag of gummy worms flung into his chest, “...Nevermind.” He breathed, standing from his place at the table and walking over to the snowy-haired girl, “Here.”

Senju grinned, “Thanks.” She spoke happily as she grabbed the package of sweets out of his hands, biting open the top with her teeth.

Takeomi sighed attempting to grab the package back from her, “Hey, you’re gonna ruin your teeth like that.”

Wrinkling her nose, Senju looked up at Takeomi, “You’re not the boss of me.” She spoke sarcastically with a slight smile, shoving a gummy worm into her awaiting mouth.

The dark-haired man raised a brow, “...And I’m assuming you forgot that sour food is sour, again.”

Senju’s face had contorted, her nose wrinkling as her lips puckered, “Shut up…” She whimpered, shoving another gummy worm into her mouth.

"You're how old?" Takeomi questioned with an amused smile, as Senju pouted.

"Worst brother ever." She huffed.

Benkei tilted his head over only to burst into laughter, “Happens every time, man.”

“You do the same when you eat spicy food.” Wakasa mentioned as he took a sip from his drink, “Remember the time we ate Draken’s hot curry? You were crying like a baby.”

Takeomi snorted as he remembered the scene, Draken had said he would make them curry since they were eating out too much, and Benkei had been the most excited about it. But, of course, this only seemed to fire up the braid-haired man more when it came to making the curry, so when it came down to them eating, he had even given Benkei an extra serving.

“Do you remember when he took the first bite?” Takeomi pondered as he walked back over to the table, Benkei groaning and placing his head on the table in embarrassment.

“Man, quit it, do you have to?” Benkei pleaded, peeking an eye up towards the man.

“Do you mean the it burns part or take me to the hospital one?” Wakasa questioned with slight amusement.

The buff man grumbled, “I’m going home. This is bullshit.”

“So you can bark, but you can’t take a bite?” Takeomi teased, grabbing his beer and taking another swig, once again scrunching his nose, “This is disgusting.”

“Then why are you still drinking it…?” Wakasa sighed in exasperation.

“Because wasting beer is a cardinal sin.” Takeomi clarified.

Benkei sat up quickly, pointing at both Takeomi and Wakasa, “You know what else a cardinal sin is? Dunking on your homies.”

The two-toned-haired man blinked, before shaking his head and clasping his hands together, and looking directly into Benkei’s eyes, “So is having an IQ of below 70, but we’re still accepting of you, Benkei.” He spoke carefully before downing the rest of his drink, “Alright, are we watching a movie?”

Benkei sat at the table, mouth agape, unsure of what to say or do, all while Takeomi and Senju snickered uncontrollably in the background.

“Sure, we can do that.” Takeomi finally spoke through his laughs, lighting a cigarette, “Though we’re not watching Jurassic Park again and making Terano South references.”

“Aw, come on!” Senju pouted.

“We could always watch Pulp Fiction?” Wakasa offered with a half-hearted shrug.

Takeomi raised a knowing brow, “You just want to say the does he look like a bitch part again, Waka.”

He sighed, “Guilty.”

“What about-” Benkei began.

“No.” Takeomi interrupted.

The burly man huffed and crossed his arms, “But I didn’t even say shit!”

“We are not watching Austin Powers.” The man with the cigarette proclaimed, shaking his head.

“...Fine.”

“What about Goodfellas?” Senju pointed out, swinging her legs from the recliner, “That’s always a favorite.”

Benkei groaned, “We’ve watched that like 20 times, though.”

Takeomi hummed, “What’s 21, though…”

“Waka can probably quote all the lines in that one, too, then.” Benkei thought out loud.

“Did you hear him last time?” Senju asked while tilting her head to the side, “He even did the voices.”

“He wasn’t here last time we watched, remember?” Takeomi pointed out, taking a hit off of his cigarette and exhaling.

“Oh, right!” Senju realized.

“Wait, you mean to tell me I missed Waka doin’ Goodfellas impressions?!” Benkei asked, looking around at the group, “Why did no one tell me!”

“You miss a lot of things when you screw around doing other things.” Wakasa pointed out as he stood, “Goodfellas it is.” He walked over to the bookcase and grabbed a VHS case for the movie.

“The real question is...did we rewind it when we watched it last time,” Senju commented as Wakasa walked over to the television set and shoved it into the VHS player.

“I don’t see why we wouldn’t ha-” It was not rewound, “Goddamn it.” Takeomi huffed.

“Short intermission, I guess.” Wakasa breathed as he hit the rewind button, walking back to the table and plopping down.

The smoking man chuckled, “You know, I didn’t expect to spend my day off like this?”

“Oh?” Wakasa asked, raising a brow.

Benkei snorted, “What, did you expect to sleep all day and drink beer?”

Takeomi rolled his eyes, “No, though that sounds peaceful compared to the mess all of you seem to bring.” He huffed, inhaling the last of the cigarette and putting it out into the ashtray. The VCR clicked, signifying the tape was done rewinding. “I got it,” Takeomi stated as he stood from his seat at the table, walking towards the TV set.

“I guess it is your day off…” Senju hummed, her legs once again moving back and forth as she spoke, “But, we missed you.”

Benkei’s eye’s widened, “Shhh!! You weren’t supposed to tell him!” As he attempted to silence the small leader.

The scar-faced man’s hand stopped as it reached forward. He blinked. They missed him. He felt his heart swell in his chest as a smile spread its way onto his face.

“Hey, Takeomi...” Wakasa questioned boredly after a moment, “Tell me they didn’t take you out with just that?”

“I’m fine.” He responded, pressing play on the VCR and turning to walk towards the light switch. While the smile on his face had disappeared, the warm and fuzzy feelings had not as he switched off the lights. Making his way back to the table, he received an all-knowing look from Wakasa as he sat down.

As the previews for the movie were nearing their end, Takeomi leaned forwards towards Wakasa, attempting not to alert the other two members of the room.

“So, even you missed me?” He questioned quietly as the beginning scene started, the two-toned-haired man not entirely paying attention.

“Yeah, yeah…” the two-toned-haired man dismissed, the piece of candy in his mouth shifting against his teeth.

“Hm.” Takeomi hummed, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at the tiled ceiling once more. He could vaguely hear the storm outside over the sound of Wakasa quoting the movie, Benkei’s obnoxious wheezes of laughter, and Senju’s tiny kicks against his favorite recliner that he always gave up to one of them instead to sit on the floor himself. A gentle smile once again made its way back onto his face.

Maybe it should rain more often.

#takeomi akashi #imaushi wakasa #senju kawaragi #benkei #arashi keizou #brahman #fanfiction #mildly ooc #will likely have to change senju's gender #here we are #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers spoilers #imi writes

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minniethemoocherda · 2 years

Text

Five Times Din and Luke Needed Saving Plus One Time That They Didn't.

Summery: Last year had been pretty hectic for Luke Skywalker. Between discovering that the old hermit that lived at the bottom of the street was actually his uncle, that the girl his maths class was his long lost twin sister and not only is his dad alive but also head of the mafia. Luke was grateful that this year, his biggest worry would be his school play. That was until Din Djarin came along.

Ao3

FF.net

"Don't forget your script!" Luke's uncle called out as he jumped out of the old car.

"Thanks Be- I mean Obi-Wan!" Luke said. It was strange after sixteen years of knowing him as Ben to call the man something else. But Luke gladly made the effort to call him by his real name now that it was safe to do so, as he knew it made the old man happy. Sure enough, he spotted Obi-Wan’s fond smile as he grabbed his folder from where he'd left it on the back seat.

Along with his twin, Luke waved goodbye as their uncle drove out of the school parking lot.

"Please promise me you'll remember your actual lines." Leia scolded him as soon as the car was out of sight.

"I will, don't worry." Luke said, flashing her a promising smile as they headed across the parking lot towards the main building.

Built in the nineteen-forties out of three stories old red brick, Coruscant High was one of the oldest buildings in the town. A lot of Luke's friends complained about the confusing layout and corridors to nowhere but personally Luke found oddities endearing. It was amazing how much history could fit into just one building as as annoying as it sometimes was when he was trying to get to geography but ended up in science, Luke liked that you didn't always know what was around each corner. It reminded him a lot of the land of Oz from their play. They were doing the Wizard of Oz this year.

Last year had been pretty hectic for him. Between discovering that the kind old hermit that lived with his husband at the bottom of the street was actually his uncle, that the stubbornly annoying girl in his maths class was his long lost twin sister. Not to mention that not only is his dad alive but also the secret enforcer to the head of the mafia. You know, just your regular teenage drama.

Luke was grateful that this year, his biggest worry would be remembering his lines for the school play. Hopefully.

As they came out of the parking lot, Luke noticed a crowd gathered around the bike shed. From the rhythmic chanting and and held up fists, he knew it had to be a fight. One of those involved was clearly Boba with his distinctly impractical green and red motorcycle helmet. But from this distance, it was hard to make out who the other party was.

"What idiot gets into a fight before school has even started?" Leia grumbled, as though her record for getting into trouble wasn't first period.

Luke was about to tell her as much, when the crowd parted enough from to catch a glimpse of a lanky, fluffy haired boy with a scar on his chin.

"Never tell me the odds!" Han shouted before punching the side of Boba's helmet with his bare fist.

"Oh god its my idiot." Leia muttered. She ran off towards the bike shed and Luke had to hurry to catch up with her.

Plastered onto the side of the building, the bikes shed was in the shadows from any teacher interference. Which was probably why it was dripping with graffiti and appeared to be the preferred hang out of the kids belonging to that motorbike gang. The Mandalorians if Luke remembered correctly.

That didn't stop the crowd from parting as soon as they were aware of Leia's presence. Luke was impressed, although with the reputation of her right hook, he really shouldn't have been.

Despite clutching his hand to his chest in pain, Han was still screaming promises of violence at Boba who, even with his helmet on, seemed more amused than angered at the situation. That only appeared to anger Han more who made an attempt to swing at him with his limp wrist again.

Leia grabbed Han before he had the chance to make contact, yanking his arm away. Luke took advantage of Han's shock to get been him and his opponent.

However, something must have snapped inside Boba because now he was also mid swing, when Luke got him front of him. Luke squeezed his eyes shut and threw up his forearms, trying to remember what Obi-Wan had taught him about self defence.

But the hit never came.

Slowly Luke opened his eyes. Through his raised forearms, he caught sight of Boba being hauled away. A boy with a similar looking helmet, had his arms locked around the bikers waist, dragging him away, kicking and screaming.

Across the school yard, Luke vaguely heard the familiar yells of Principal Mothma. Someone must have finally ratted to a teacher about the fight. As the rest of the students scrambled away, Luke was frozen still, staring with amazement, as the boy hauled the pair back to their motorbikes. This was far from the first time Luke had witnessed Boba in fight. He knew first hand just how strong he was. It would take someone with at least equal strength to take him down.

It was hard to make out who the person was underneath the helmet and leather jacket, but as the morning sun finally crossed far enough west to light up the thin visor, Luke could make out a pair of deep brown eyes.

"Move it!" Leia yelled, startling Luke from his daze. She still had Han's arm in a death grip as she dragged his ass towards the school building "I will not be late for Mr Se's class because of you two again!"

Luke shook his head and turned to follow her. His twin would never forgive him if he missed another rehearsal because he got detention. Plus he didn't want Han to get into more trouble with Leia than he already was.

Thankfully, they made it to class just in time for the final bell to ring out. But even as Mr Se started rambling on about quadratic equations, Luke couldn't get those mysterious brown eyes out of his head.

#dinluke #star wars #Luke Skywalker #boba fett #han solo #leia organa #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett #tbobf #tbb #scoundress #hanleia #tech tips #din x luke #bobannec #modern au #high school au #mon mothma #sins of the past

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give-grian-rights · 3 years

Text

Bets Against The Void c7

ok i really like validation so its back again this week

crossposted on ao3

Whitelist AU by @petrichormeraki

next chapter

last chapter

first chapter

They never quite fell back to sleep.

It took only three hours for them to start rolling out of their makeshift bed, and back to scrambling around the hobbit hole and making the most of the resources.

The two teens didn’t really talk, after how their last conversation finished.

Tommy peaked down into what looked like a not-so-hidden stripmine, before Tubbo’s head perked up.

“Someone’s at the door,” The brunett chimed, carefully striding their way over.

It was once again Grian, with a shulkerbox in tow.

“Sorry to bother you guys again,” Grian gave a sheepish wave while balancing the box against one arm and his chest. “I remembered last night that I didn’t leave any cooking supplies, or open up where the kitchen is.”

“It’s not just you,” Tommy decided to add, turning back towards where the entrance was. “That fuckin’ bird showed up again this mornin’. Woke us up.”

At that, Grian groaned. “Yeah..He does his own thing in the early mornings and at night. The hobbithole was basically his house. I’ll enclose him tonight, sorry for that.”

Moving the box under an arm, Grian tilted his head. “Can I go back and show you where the kitchen’s hidden?”

Tommy merely raised a brow. “It’s your house, ain’t it, dickhead?”

Tubbo lightly jabbed Tommy’s side.

“I made it, yeah, but you two are staying in it. As long as you’d like it, it’s yours and I won't come in without your explicit permission.”

With a second of baffled confusion, Tubbo cleared their throat and nodded.

“Yeah! Uh. Come in, I guess..?”

It took only a few minutes for Grian to expose the tucked away room by the super smelter setup Tubbo and Tommy were yet to investigate.

“I didn’t feel like decorating a kitchen since I already had so many plans with my megabase..If I had it my way I wouldn’t have made a kitchen at all, but the Jungle Gang of Hermits would’ve been severely disappointed if I was only having menu-crafted food.” He’d casually explain, pulling out a paper towel roll from the shulkerbox as he swiped down the tops and barren counters.

“How many Hermits are in the jungle?” Tubbo asked, brows furrowed. Their tablet’s visual narration was muted, as it repeatedly described Grian wiping off the dust from the counters.

“Ehh..Five? Including me? There’s also Ren, but he’s right on the edge, down in a masa. Beautiful setup he’s got going on.” He’d breezily explain.

Nodding along, Tommy glanced around the room.

“This is cool ‘n all but we don’t have to use this space. You left.. Shitloads of stuff, in the chests.” The blond had pointed out, turning back towards Grian.

With a shrug, Grian hummed dismissively. “Real food’s a much better idea, and i’m fairly certain steak’s most of what I got left, down here. Maybe for dinner but..Not really for breakfast, or anything.”

Tubbo shrugged. “Fair enough, yeah..We don’t exactly..Cook much? I mean- I know I certainly haven’t had the time to get much in me, other than coffee.”

“Ooh, yeah, definitely a good traditional-prepped item.. Other than tea on occasion, I don't tend to stray from crafted food. Even on the days I sit down and eat it like a proper meal.” Grian nodded along, glancing off as he dropped the paper towels he had been using to clean into a little bin.

Tommy sighed, leaning against the wall. His head was pounding from the lack of sleep. “What’s the d-”

He was cut off by a not-so-distant firework bang.

Tubbo flinched and ducked their head down, throwing their arms over their head. Tommy, on the otherhand, lowered to the ground, eyes sealed shut with his hands slammed against his ears.

“Hey! Hey, it’s okay, they’re duds, they’re fireworks! No firework stars, either, just a puff of smoke. You’re both okay. You’re in the hobbit hole. It’s fine, everything’s good.” Grian hushed, giving exaggerated movements as he demonstrated slow breathing.

The blond boy growled, turning to snap at Grian- “We’re not babies! We’re fine.”

Grian nodded, stepping back to give them both more space. “Okay. It’s okay. And it’s alright if it’s not okay. That was probably just Scar. He’s gonna be in and out of there. He’s the closest neighbor.” He had calmly explained to the pair.

Tubbo had deflated, taking a breath. “Thank you. Sorry. Uh. Y-Yeah.” They nodded numbly.

Tommy raised, folded his arms and didn’t meet the gaze of Grian. His face was twisted as he glared down at the floor. He felt weak.

Taking a small breath, Grian tentatively stepped back towards the door. “I’m going to head out and let you guys cool down, okay? You’re both free to go anywhere you want.”

With that, he departed, leaving the two teens alone.

A brief, tense silence fell between them.

“..That was fucking stupid.” Tommy scoffed.

Tubbo’s brows furrowed, turning towards him.

“Excuse you?” They spoke, voice edging towards accusatory.

“They’re gonna fuckin’ think we’re weak, Tubbo-”

“I’m sorry that i’m not a fan of explosions! Yeah- that- that one’s my bad, Tommy.” Tubbo growled, going to step away.

Tommy grabbed their arm with a loose grip. “That doesn't matter, Tubbo, we’re- we’re supposed to be able to do better than that! We look like kids to him. We look like cowards-”

“I’m not a coward, Tommy! Oh, void, can’t you just drop it?” They hissed out, yanking their arm free.

“For the love of Prime- Tubbo. Tubbo, I'm not mad at you! So I need you not to be mad at me-”

“Too late for that!” They spat, rushing themself out the door with a slam.

Left behind was Tommy, tense and red in the face with a growing pit of guilt.

...

The people slowly started to pour back into the server. With everything going as expected, the admin breezily flicked and dismissed his communication screen, leaning back as he rested atop the incomprehensible mess of community chests.

Frequent pings and beeps ran through his ears as the comms went off, mixed with alerts and chatting as people settled back down.

He hadn’t bothered to check the messages until an hour in, when a high-pitched chirp emitted. A private message.

Summoning his screen back, he read over it.

ItsFundy: Hey Dre? My messages aren’t reaching Tubbo. Why aren’t the two back yet?

Dream quietly laughed. The server could use a quick break from them.

It only took a quick flick of the wrist to pull up Tommy and Tubbo’s info. They were both in a world. With the MCC servers closed to the public for maintenance at night, Dream could only assume the two had scampered off to Hypixel or something of the like.

Upon a brief investigation, the servers were left as unlisted.

...Nonetheless, Dream will allow himself to revel in some peace for now. Let them get a little scared. A little more respect for the server-

Dream sneered.

They’re lucky they’re as tolerated as they are, here.

...And without them present, well- that sure will leave L’manburg in an interesting situation…

Dream: Can’t say I know. Sorry. They probably ran off, dont worry too much about them.

Making up his mind, Dream scrolled back to the Player information.

“It would be a shame if they went M.I.A, especially with how fresh the wound on L’manburg is..” He mused.

A click or two on the screen and it was done. They were locked from the server.

“Enjoy yourselves, idiots.” He yawned, kicking his legs off the chests and onto the floor.

His axe was summoned to his hand, and he stalked off, a chill running through the air.

#bets against the void #dsmp x hc #dsmp x hermitcraft #whitelist au #hermit tommyinnit #hermit tubbo #mika-posts

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cipherexists · 2 years

Text

Be Part of a team

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36062998

in chapter 3 of Wanting To Be Part Of Something tommy has a nightmare and is then comforted by the hermits by the art of Ignoring Your Problems. They play some dodgebolt and mock the hermits involved with Hermit Gang. Its a fun time that's only 15% angst :D

#hermit tommy au #hermitcraft #WTBPOS #tommyinnit #grian #falsesymmetry #cubfan135 #petezahhutt #rendog #geminitay #hermitcraft s7 #hermitblr #goddamn i have too many tags #am i doing this right

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mayflowers07 · 2 years

Note

commenting here cause i don't have an ao3 account but your "i can be the one you call" series made me cry so hard /pos (especially mumbo's cause rsd gang woo)

but ahh i have so much love for your hermit stories it just.. hjsdfhkjskjhdfjhhsdf yeah them <3

great writing, you're super talented and your stories are so good for the hermitcraft brain worms

have a wonderful day and a wonderful 2022!

Ahsgdjdhsga thank you! Ahhhhh <3 <3

#anon #i can be the one you call

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jungledubs-archive · 2 years

Note

hello gang! hope ur doing well. recently binged some stuff on ur ao3. and ur hels hermit stuff?? brilliant. amazing. nearly killed me /lh. please feel free to ramble about them,,, they’re too good???

we’re doing ok!! and thank you :D we’re very proud of our helses! and quite a few of them are sentient now haha,,, so we havent done much lore-ing for a while because of that, though we did a bunch in the past. i.e. i dont have much to say honestly- harder to ramble about an oc when they will literally show up and correct all your details and possibly feel awkward about it 😅

#jungle answers #mumbo-killingmachine-jumbo #it’s just weird now sorry 😔

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theburialofstrawberries · 4 years

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hi! do you have any essential drarry fic recs? i've never gotten into it before but am all the sudden interested

hello yes I do! :-)

these are essential AUTHORS who hit my specific spot re: the character insight and the dynamic, which is big buff low-EQ repressed hermit (harry) meets slinking calculating low-self esteem hedonist (draco). also I just don’t get fics that prolong angst without indulging in humour so these are all funny

olden & golden

all of lettered, especially the pure and simple truth, the boy who only lived twice (the ORIGINAL secret identity fic), away childish things (11 year old harry and draco are kind of heartbreaking)

all of astolat, especially reparatio and house proud. it’s astolat i mean there’s not much to say

azoth by zeitgeistic was my official ‘favourite’ for the longest time. potential gravity is also chef’s kiss

drarry 2020 renaissance. I don’t know if its heresy but I’d actually start HERE instead of with the older classics, and specifically with GallaPlacidia

pretty much all of GallaPlacidia. start with adventures of a suicidal gentleman or the bucket list, and once you trust their narration you can start on the two kidfics (i know kidfics aren’t everyone’s scene but these are just exemplary). my favourite is lessons in grace and decorum, i was literally jotting down notes on life & living during that one.

aideomai, specifically nice things, sweet and plotless, they smoke weed in that one. my favourite is in the hand which is WILD, harrys and dracos from different timelines converge and get a good look at each other. pure fun, and breaks down fanfiction to the basics which is really an experiment in like, what would happen in this world if i turned a dial on this one variable slightly? and then dwelling which is what christopher nolan should’ve filmed instead of tenet

tepre writes flouncy 18th cent. outwardly jolly inwardly burning draco REALLY well, us in lieu is great and all the earnest young men was a trip. and then these three authors collab’ed on the bolthole recently, which i followed with the eagerness of a beverly hills divorcee following a celeb sex scandal. (IF you liked tepre’s drarry and the general repressed pride and prejudice vibes, amid this warm and steady sweetness by warmfoothills is the next step)

misc. olden & golden

here’s the pencil make it work, which is like the classic draco has a gang of protective muggle friends fic (i feel emily would never let me live it down if I didn’t rec this one)

domestic, the classic harry takes draco into his flat in what is supposed to be temporary situation

both of waspabi’s are great, stately homes of wiltshire in particular

also more broadly here are my drarry bookmarks on ao3 which i think i basically vomited in post form above (and also bruna’s bookmarks for posterity she is my taste compass)

TLDR these are a lot of links SORRY. start with GallaPlacidia!! feel free to follow up with questions/reactions if any

#Anonymous

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pengiesama · 3 years

Text

A Log, Carved for Two (Fic, TOZ, Sorey/Mikleo)

Title: A Log, Carved for Two Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Sorey/Mikleo

Summary:

Sorey and Mikleo (and the gang) visit an old inn, with a legendary log. In the process, they learn about life, love, and a certain appreciation for their luck in both.

Part of the Sormik Advent Calendar 2020's Secret Santa challenge! I got @applegelstore's prompt:

"I'm terrible with prompts so how about hot springs but it's a 1000 year old log serving as bathtub (if that irritates you please watch Abroad in Japan, Escape to Mt. Fuji)"

(...well, you'll get what you ask for...)

@sormikadventcalendar / sormikadvent (Twitter)

Link: AO3

Read on Tumblr!

It had, of course, always been Sorey’s dream to see a world where seraphim and humans could live side by side. And it was a dream that he had achieved, through sacrifice and pain and determination. Humans and seraphim now lived in one world, laughing together, arguing together…

…but, well, Sorey seemed to have slept through the beginning years of this glorious new world. Consequently, he didn’t get to see the wonder, experience the discovery, attend any of the cool parties, et cetera. He awoke in a world where it was just a Thing. It was the norm. Seraphim? Of course, there’s one that runs the bakery down the street, and one that lives in the pond out back; perfectly good neighbor, he is, he never makes a ruckus and keeps the mosquito population down in the summers.

(“Mosquitos Steve,” Mikleo managed to comment, through his discomfort, as he and Sorey walked to the bakery as the man they were speaking to had given them directions. “Yes. We all know about Mosquitos Steve.”)

Still, it was more than Sorey could’ve ever dreamed of. This sense of normalcy was a hit of comfort and nostalgia for his days in Elysia, in a time when the rest of the world had marched on so far without him. And, moreover, it was really interesting reading all the literature on the intervening period, and then grilling seraphim who’d lived through those periods to check for accuracies and contrasting viewpoints. And, moreover, it was a pleasure beyond words doing it with Mikleo by his side, with all of eternity stretching out in front of them.

This merging of worlds is what led to the subject of the day’s outing: a cozy little inn near the town (now city) of Lastonbell, tucked away from the city’s lights and avant-garde art installations, and tucked away from the Shepherdsmas bustle and the cold winter winds. Known for its history, and its hot springs, it was owned and managed by a merged human-seraphim family. That would’ve been enough to pique Sorey’s interest, but add in the prospect of great food and a soak in the hot springs with a hot babe…

“…And as for the hot springs,” Mikleo continued to explain to the group as they walked up the lengthy stone steps to the inn’s entrance. “You could, of course, just go to the back and soak in the ordinary springs.”

“Which I will,” Edna quipped. She’d grown weary of climbing steps and was forcing Zaveid to carry her on his back; she was bound to him with vines, seated in a comfortable chair of flowers, while Zaveid huffed and puffed.

“But did you know that there’s a thousand-year-old log that the resident seraphim have enchanted to serve as a private spring?” Mikleo tried to steer the conversation back.

“Wow,” Edna said drily. “An old log.”

“Wow…” Sorey breathed, voice breathless with awe. “An old log…”

“A thousand-year-old log!” Mikleo reiterated, voice brimming with excitement. “Do you know what that means?”

“It means that we’ll get to enjoy the hot springs without having to watch you two canoodle,” Edna said, and gave Zaveid a whack with a vine before he could make any sort of lewd followup. “Giddyap.”

“I’m afraid I’ll also have to take a rain check on the, ah, alternate bathing arrangement,” Lailah said. “I’ll leave you two boys to it, but please fetch me from the sauna when everyone’s finished up, woodn’t you?”

Everyone fell into a pained and eerie silence. Lailah’s eyes darted around, and she cleared her throat.

“Fetch me from the sauna, woodn’t you? When you boys are done with your log?”

As the silence stretched ever onward, Zaveid sighed tragically.

“Guys, I’m gonna have to save my own skin on this one. Have fun with the log and don’t get splinters where the sun don’t shine.”

With that, he summoned the power of the wind and dashed up the remaining steps in the blink of an eye, trailing swirling snowflakes and flowers from Edna’s perch as he went.

Lailah stared at Mikleo and Sorey, expectantly.

“…haha,” Sorey offered a weak laugh. “A-anyway, with the log being that old, it means that this inn predated us by a long shot. And could mean that the seraphim and humans running this place could’ve been doing the same thing back then, too…”

“With much less tourist traffic, but yes,” Mikleo agreed. “It’s something I’d love to ask the owners, after we’re done with dinner and our bath.”

Sorey’s ears perked up, hopefully. Mikleo gave a knowing smile.

“The private suite that has the log isn’t easy to get,” Mikleo said, his tone brimming with pride. “But of course, I pulled some strings.”

Great food, and a soak in a really old log with a hot babe. Sorey was the luckiest man alive.

Sorey’s jaw was slack with awe as he saw it. As he saw The Log.

“Wow…” Sorey marveled.

He and Mikleo both crept up to it as if it was a rare animal, as beautiful as it was dangerous, as if it was ready to roll away and into the winter’s night if spooked. It was exquisitely-carved and preserved, and the growth rings exposed at each end coyly insinuated at it being even older than anticipated. There were no plumbing elements installed to spoil its perfection; it was simply pure wood, pure Log. Truly a marvel worth the long trip, the long stair climb, and the painful sting of Lailah’s puns.

“Would our guests care to have their bath, or should this one leave them to admire it for a while longer?”

Mikleo and Sorey were startled out of their reverie by a low, serene voice. It was one of the inn staff, standing so still and so quiet in the corner of the elegant bathing room that they hadn’t even noticed them in the presence of the magnificent log specimen. Dressed in a modest but striking blue-and-black kimono and wooden sandals, the staffperson slowly glided over to the tub-side, regarding Mikleo and Sorey with an unknowable expression. With a wave of their hand, they summoned hot water to fill the tub.

“Well, at least we’ve found someone to chat with about the inn’s history,” Sorey thought.

The fragrance of an ancient forest filled the cool winter air, and the stream from the bath wafted to the open-air balcony to join the dancing snowflakes outside. The staffperson lowered a hand to touch the surface of the water; ostensibly testing the temperature for their guests. The effortless way they’d woven their artes made Sorey suspect that the gesture was more for guests’ ease of mind, rather than any uncertainty on the staffperson’s part.

“Our guests shall find towels and refreshments laid out for them,” the staffperson said. “Please do not hesitate to summon me as needed.”

With that, they bowed, and turned to fold themselves back into the shadows (or the staff corridors) from whence they came. Sorey managed to shake himself free of the enchanting log in time to call out.

“Wait! Can we ask you a few questions about this place?”

The staffperson slanted a look over their shoulder. Their white-blue hair was tied up into a severe bun that was quite at odds with their youthful features, and their ice-blue eyes showed an ancient weariness.

Sorey scratched at his head, mussing its newly-long (and blond) length even further.

“First, um, I’m Sorey, and this is Mikleo…”

“Yes,” the staffperson said, simply. “Of course, this one knows the names of such famous guests. We hope that you find our inn to your liking thus far.”

“It’s great!” Sorey assured. “We just really wanted to know more about its history. Is it okay if we ask you some stuff? I mean, if you have the time. We’ll share our snacks with you? What’s your name?”

The staffperson paused for a long moment.

“Lithia,” they stated, finally. “Please, ask this one anything you care to know.”

Lithia was not only a font of knowledge, answering any question Sorey or Mikleo threw at them – they were also, as a matter of fact, one of the original founders of the inn.

(“No,” they had to clarify, at Sorey and Mikleo’s insistent questions, they were not the ones to chop down the log.)

It was through Lithia that the inn’s history was told, in full.

One thousand and twenty years ago, a seraph and a human fell in love, but they lived in a world that was not meant for them.

One thousand and twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen years ago, the seraph became weaker and weaker, more and more ill, suffering under the malevolence of the townsfolk and their cruelty towards their beloved human. It was different, back then. Humans fear what they don’t understand. Seraphim, also. Surely, our esteemed guests understand this too well.

One thousand and fifteen years ago, the human left human civilization behind, carrying the seraphim on his back, questing to find a place for the seraphim to recover in peace, a place to call their own.

There was, of course, no such place. Living as hermits in the woods would have to do instead.

They lived quite happily, the two of them. They enjoyed the beauty of nature, and the pleasure of each other’s company, for many years. The human eventually felled a tree and carved it into a lovely bath. The seraph used their artes to make it into a log hot spring. How whimsical, how unique; in another time, the two of them could have opened a lovely inn, and become known across the continent for their hospitality.

But of course, the human eventually aged and died, as humans do.

The seraph was left with the home they’d built together, and their silly little log bath.

The seraph was left like this for many, many years.

Eventually, humans began to see seraphim again. They began to live side-by-side. The seraph watched this from their forest house, with their silly log bath that they’d kept preserved all these years. The seraph was bitter for a while; angry, even. How dare they sort things out now, centuries too late?

The seraph was angry for years, with their house and their log bath. The seraph remembered their human so well, even after all this time. They remembered his voice, his face, his laughter. There was no one else to do so. There was no one left to remember him.

The human had always wanted to have an inn of his own, to host guests (which they could never have, without endangering the seraph) and hear stories from across the globe (which they could never explore, without endangering the seraph). The human had died without seeing this dream fulfilled. Even through the seraph’s anger, they remembered this, too well.

It was not a quick process. Lithia was known as being standoffish, even among the few other seraphim that had settled around their forest territory. It took years, and many meetings and partings. The young human attacked by forest beasts, who left offerings for Lithia for the rest of his life after they – in a sudden fit that even they could not explain – saved him, healed his wounds, and sent him on his way after his recovery. The travelling earth seraph with their team of human workers, who fixed up Lithia’s home after an earthquake finally brought down one of the ancient walls that could no longer be patched. The fire seraph, wandering through the woods, with the light in their eyes extinguished after losing their human family to disease.

It was not a quick process. But by and by, Lithia’s anger subsided, and eventually, they opened this inn.

“The two of you enjoy a rare gift,” Lithia stated. “It is not common for the love between a human and a seraph to end happily. I ask only that you treasure the opportunity you have been given.”

Mikleo’s hand had already found Sorey’s. Sorey’s hand squeezed back.

“Of course,” Sorey said quietly.

“And,” Lithia added. “Please refrain from having relations in the log.”

Mikleo and Sorey simply stared, wordless. Lithia tilted their head.

“Um,” Sorey said eventually. “I don’t think. That’ll. Be a problem.”

Lithia made a small noise. “Oh. I was not aware that the former Shepherd suffered such an affliction. I can brew a medicinal tea, should he wish to have the urge fall upon him.”

“We’re good! We’re good!” Sorey hastily clarified. “Um, it’s no problem, we promise. Thank you so much for opening your home to us, and letting us use something so dear to you…”

Lithia gave a small nod. “I only allow guests in this suite that I have personally approved. Ones that I personally judge worthy of it. The rest…”

Through the night air, there came the distinct sound of a vine whip against bare ass skin, and then Zaveid’s pained howling.

“The rest can bathe outside,” Lithia finished curtly. “Please, guests, enjoy your stay. I must take my leave to ensure no blood has entered the waters, lest I add the cleaning tab to your companion’s bill.”

“I think you should probably do it regardless,” Mikleo mumbled wearily. “Lords only know where Zaveid’s been.”

#sormik #sorey/mikleo #soreymikleo #soremiku #suremiku #tales of zestiria #sormik advent calendar #a tenderly crafted fanfiction

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lilith-swbf · 4 years

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Hey Mama Lil! I just read a fic in AO3 about Pochayuu being anxious why Vik and Yuuri is staying at home a lot and they explained it's because of the virus, and it made me think: how is Yuuri and Viktor doing with the quarantine? I bet they are so anxious since Beanie is just a baby. How about Yurio and the rest of the gang? I bet you Phichit is absolutely going nuts with the isolation given that he is an outgoing person lol

Well, you'll be happy to know that since this fic takes place immediately after the canonical dates of the anime that, canonically to SWBF, Viktor and Yuuri and beanie baby technically haven't encountered this mess yet. 😅 BUT, if they were to, you can rest assured they'd be as safe as absolutely possible and take every precaution. They would quarantine up with baby bean and ride things out together. (And they would come out of it just fine ♡)

Yuri wouldn't be too terribly bothered, I don't think. He's largely a hermit between seasons, anyway, and being stuck inside doesn't keep him from playing Overwatch online with Otabek 😉

Phichit would probably have a hard time with it, though. I can see him going stir-crazy pretty fast. But Yuuri calls him often (and Chris Skypes him...a lot 👀), so with the help of his buds, he manages. ♡

That being said, I dearly hope each and every one of you are healthy and safe in this weird timeline we've found ourselves stuck in at the moment. Even though she's a bit tired, you have mama Lil cheering you on to stay home as much as possible and wash your hands often! And drink water and remember to eat too. The light at the end of the tunnel will come, dears. We just have to power through!

#sakamakicentric #stay safe everyone ♡

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exultedshores · 5 years

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Because there is not enough DaudThomas out there, 38. "All I wanted was for you to be happy"?

Thank you so much for the prompt! I went a little overboard with it, hope you don’t mind ^^” Also find it on AO3 here!

The cabin doesn’t look like much.

In fact, it’s a stretch to even call it a cabin – shack seems like a more appropriate term; the little abode is made of haphazardly stacked wooden logs, with a crooked roof that very much looks as though it could collapse at any moment underneath the weight of the snow piled atop it. It doesn’t look in the least inhabitable.

And yet it is, light visible through a small crack in the curtains, smoke seeping from the chimney. Clearly, someone has made their home here, in the heart of the Tyvian tundra. Someone who isn’t too fond of people. Someone who wishes to be left alone. Someone who’s running from something.

Void, but Thomas hopes that it’s his someone.

He’s been searching for years. Once it became clear that Daud had left them, once it became clear that he was never coming back, the Whalers swiftly fell apart. Perhaps Thomas let them. He could have led the gang for a while longer, could have continued the business without Daud and his otherworldly abilities, but he just didn’t want to. He didn’t join the Whalers because of bloodlust, didn’t stick around for the coin, didn’t accept the position of second-in-command for power, didn’t share their leader’s bed for any other reason than love. Everything he’s done, since the day they met, has been for Daud, and only for Daud.

And Daud – Daud left him behind.

And Thomas just wants to know why.

His search has taken him all across the Empire, from Serkonos to Morley and now finally to Tyvia. He spent entirely too much time combing through Serkonos, certain Daud would have wanted to return to his native Isle; by the time he found out Daud had gone to Caulkenny after leaving Dunwall, he’d long since moved on, tired of being around people. The trail led him to Tyvia, up north, past Pradym to a village so remote even its inhabitants have long since forgotten its name – and then further still, into the tundra itself, where they say a bearded hermit with a scar running the length of his face has made his home.

And now here he is, at the very northern end of the Empire. He’s tired, hungry, and Void, so, so cold, wrapped in six layers of clothes yet still frozen to the bone. But even as the wind howls around him, even as the sun sets, even though he knows he won’t be able to make the trip back to the village without freezing to death, even now that he’s so close, Thomas hesitates.

Because as much as he wants – as much as he needs answers, he can’t help but be terrified of those answers at the same time.

But then nothing could be worse than this awful limbo of uncertainty.

With a shaking fist – from the cold, he lies to himself – Thomas knocks on the door.

It swings open almost immediately, and any doubts Thomas might have had about the hermit’s identity fly out the window immediately as he looks into those sharp grey eyes he knows so well, not to mention the distinctive scar, and the very way he holds himself. The thick beard and the unassuming woollen sweater are new, but they do nothing to conceal Daud’s identity. Not from Thomas, at least.

Daud has one hand on the dagger at his hip. “Who are you?”

The mere sound of Daud’s voice after all these years is enough to make Thomas shiver – it’s the cold, he lies to himself again – and he hastens to pull down the balaclava covering the lower half of his face, to push up the goggles protecting his eyes from the wind. “Master Daud,” he murmurs, the old familiar address rolling off his tongue as easily as it did a decade ago.

“Thomas,” Daud breathes in turn. “What are you doing here?”

He already cannot feel his face anymore. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Daud stares at him for a long moment. “In,” he orders only when Thomas’ teeth begin to chatter, and Thomas obeys all too gladly, ducking inside the little cabin with a muttered word of gratitude.

Inside it’s blissfully warm, a strong fire burning in the hearth, and Thomas lets it wash over him, allows himself just a brief respite in which he thinks of nothing but getting some movement back into his frozen limbs, pointedly not letting his mind wander to the man whose space he’s currently invading.

But he knows he can’t avoid the issue forever. Thomas turns away from the fire, looks back at the man he’s been chasing for years now. Daud stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, as though he is the one who doesn’t belong in this setting. He, too, seems to be interested in looking everywhere but at the other person in the room.

Thomas wets his lips, chapped from the cold. “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“That’s by design,” Daud says curtly, and Thomas flinches despite himself.

“I can go,” he offers, his voice mercifully even, “if you’d rather.”

If Daud sends him away, he’ll have all the answers he came here for.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ll freeze to death before you make it halfway back to the village,” Daud snaps at him. He breathes deeply as he looks into the flames dancing merrily in the hearth. “And it’s… good to see you, Thomas.”

The simple sentiment floods him with more warmth than the fire ever could. “It’s good to see you too, sir.”

Daud looks as though he wants to say a million different things – and he doesn’t say any of them. Instead, he reaches for a small brass cauldron on the shelf just above the hearth. “Tea?”

If he weren’t so tense, Thomas might have laughed at the sheer mundanity of the question. “Please,” he says, because whatever else, a warm drink sounds like an unprecedented treat after his merciless daylong trek through the Tyvian tundra.

Daud nods, walks to the door, and disappears outside. He returns not half a minute later with his cauldron filled with snow, and he hangs the pot above the fire. “It’ll take a while.”

It’s not as though Thomas has any pressing engagements. “That’s alright.”

The silence that follows is so uncomfortable it’s almost oppressive. Thomas isn’t sure what he expected, should have known they wouldn’t just fall back into the easy camaraderie, the relationship of trust and love they used to have, but this – this is unbearable.

“Master Daud –” he begins, at the exact same time Daud says, “Thomas –”

Thomas ducks his head to hide a smile, and Daud huffs a laugh himself. “You don’t have to call me ‘Master’ anymore, you know.”

“Sorry, sir. Old habit.”

Daud finally looks him in the eye. “Why are you here, Thomas?”

“I told you, sir. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Why?”

Thomas swallows thickly. “You left,” he says, his voice coming out hoarser than he would like. “You vanished into thin air. If you hadn’t taken your things we would have thought you dead.”

“I told Attano I’d leave the city,” Daud mutters. “I had to go.”

“You could have told us,” Thomas tries not to sound accusatory. “You could have told me.”

Daud turns away from him, focuses instead on the row of hand carved wooden owls sitting on a shelf above his bed. “I couldn’t.”

“I was your second in command. I was –” so much more than that, he doesn’t say. “You could have told me.”

Daud shakes his head. “You would have wanted to come with me.”

“And you didn’t want that?”

“No.”

The word is like a stab in the chest. “I see,” he whispers. The words are barely audible over the crackling of the fire, yet his voice still sounds too loud. “You could have told me that, then.”

They wouldn’t have had to have this conversation. He wouldn’t have spent the last few years chasing down every lead on Daud’s whereabouts. He could have gone – well, he doesn’t know where he would have gone, what he would have done. But at least he would have been free.

“If I’d told you,” Daud rasps, still looking at those infernal owls, “I wouldn’t have been able to leave you behind.”

Thomas can’t have heard that right. “What?”

Daud sighs, a long, weary exhale. “I’m the most wanted man in the Empire,” he says, the old familiar tone of regret woven into his every syllable. “Staying with me would have meant always being on the run, never being able to stay in one place too long, never making a home. I didn’t want that for you. I didn’t want you to throw away your life for me.”

“I wouldn’t have a life to throw away if it weren’t for you,” Thomas reminds him. “My life has always been yours.”

“Your life is your own, Thomas.”

Thomas doesn’t even realise he’s balled his hands into fists. “Then why did you take it away when you left?” His own voice rings in his ears. “Why didn’t you give me a choice?”

“I didn’t want you to regret that choice,” Daud murmurs. “All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

The laugh leaves his mouth unbidden, mirthless, derisive. “No,” he spits. “You were just afraid. You were afraid of what would happen if you allowed me to come with you, just like you were afraid of what would happen if you’d settled down somewhere in Serkonos rather than this frozen misery. You were afraid you would be happy.”

Daud recoils as though he’s been struck. “That’s not –” he begins, heatedly, but then he falters, staring at Thomas with a heartrendingly haunted look in his eyes. “I… I’ve made so many mistakes. I’ve killed so many people. What right do I have to be happy?”

He sounds utterly broken, and Thomas’ lips curl into a snarl. “What right do you have to be miserable?” he counters. “Do you think Attano let you live so you could waste it like this? So you could punish yourself?”

“It’s not punishment,” Daud denies, but weakly, as though he doesn’t believe his own words.

Thomas snorts. “For Void’s sake, Daud, you hate the cold even more than you hate the Outsider. This place is a self-imposed prison if I’ve ever seen one.”

The ghost of a smile tugs at Daud’s lips. “I really hate it when you’re right.”

“You must have loathed me back in Dunwall, then,” Thomas drawls.

“No. I loved you back in Dunwall,” Daud confesses, his voice as soft as the look in his eyes. “And I still do.”

Thomas blinks rapidly at the tears clouding his vision. “Voiddammit, Daud,” he curses vehemently, “did you really think I could ever have been happy without you?”

Daud opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again – then lets out a choked growl in the back of his throat and crosses the small room in two strides, pulling Thomas into a tight, desperate embrace.

And finally, Thomas is home.

Daud pulls back just far enough to look at him. “Stay with me.”

Thomas smiles. “No.”

“No?” Daud repeats, his eyes wide.

“No,” Thomas confirms. “I’m going to go make my way back to Serkonos in the morning. The cold doesn’t agree with me.”

Daud’s expression is unreadable. “I see.”

Thomas’ smile widens into a grin. “You’re welcome to join me, though.”

Daud releases a shuddering exhale, the sigh filled with relief. “Yes,” he breathes. “Of course.”

His promise doesn’t erase the last few years, doesn’t magically rebuild the trust he shattered when he vanished without a word – but it fills Thomas with more hope than he’s felt in a long time.

And that might just be enough.

#Dishonored #fanfic #Thomas the Whaler #Daud #Daud/Thomas #prompt fill #Shores answers

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