#i appreciate it my um...fellow creature... | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queenburd · 1 year

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So like I was gonna do more with this and I might later but right now it’s bite sized and pleasant, it’s nicely self contained, so here’s a TSP fic about the narrator being indecisive about making himself a character model.

—

[ I have a question. ] Stanley posits to no one in particular.

He is standing in the room with two doors, quietly considering. As it is his choice, the narrator is quiet here, and allowing him the privacy of his own head. Mustn’t spoil which route Stanley wants to take for himself, he’s said before. Keeps the fellow on his toes.

(Toes. Ha. How relevant.)

“Yes, Stanley?” The narrator prompts him with friendly curiosity. At one point he may have asked with impatience, an effort to keep him moving, but they’ve done every route so many times that sometimes, it’s more fun to take their time. Stop and smell the roses. “What’s on your mind?”

Stanley—fidgets. It isn’t like him, to fidget, or hesitate. When he finally signs again, after a long consideration, it’s clear he’s chosen every word very carefully.

[ It’s probably a silly question. Is that okay? ]

“Well, Stanley, you are a silly person, so I expect nothing less.”

He scowls at the ceiling, scrunching his nose at the tease. There’s no heat in it, of course.

There’s such a… gentleness, to their relationship, these days. For two entities designed to be in conflict, they’ve somehow found a way to meet in the middle, and find the places where they disagree as ways to appreciate each other. It’s hard, having to deal with someone else’s perspective when they think so differently from you.

But it’s good. It’s nice.

“Go on, then. I will reserve my judgement on the silliness of your question for after I hear it.” Stanley snorts.

He looks at his hands. Releases a puff of breath.

[ Do you have a body? ]

There is no response, but this is fine, because Stanley continues, nothing but genuine curiosity behind his thoughts. There is no motive, no craving. Just simple questions.

[ I usually think you don’t, but sometimes you sigh, or cry or clear your throat, or just do things that imply more than just audio. People have lungs and stuff, to make those noises. But I know you’re not human. But do you have a character model somewhere, like mine? ]

“Um. Er,” is the uncertain reply. The fellow sounds caught off guard, a little sheepish. “I… no. I don’t.”

[ oh. Okay. ]

Stanley isn’t disappointed, not really. Okay, perhaps a touch. But not enough to be properly bothered.

“Wh— is that it? No followup?”

He shakes his head.

“Is it a problem that I don’t have one? I’d never thought to—good lord, can you imagine?”

Stanley shakes his head again, then considers it, and lifts a hand, seesawing it vaguely.

It isn’t a problem, per se, that the narrator isn’t a physical being. It’s simply—

[ Humans are social creatures. They need physical interaction and touch. We’re not human though, so I don’t need it. It’s like the sleep thing. ]

“Hm.”

The narrator sounds contemplative, learning something new. Stanley fidgets again.

[ I was just curious. Sorry if I made you uncomfortable. ]

“Oh, no, it’s alright,” the tone is dismissive, distracted. It stings a bit, but it’s probably for the best. The last thing Stanley wants is to make them stew in an uncomfortable atmosphere. The pair of them should move on.

It’s honestly fine that Stanley’s never had interaction with another person. Or. Well. He thinks it is. It doesn’t bother him frequently. He ISN’T human, so he isn’t about to go mad without it.

There have been times where he really really wished, needed, craved comfort—mostly in the worst moments when the both of them were affected. The aftermath of the Skip Button ending is the most obvious.

But the narrator’s voice has become its own kind of presence. It can rest on his shoulders like a weighted blanket does, grounding him and soothing him, easily as intimate as a hug.

So there’s no real loss here. Stanley can’t miss something he’s never had. It’s honestly okay.

“Er, Stanley?”

Right. Doors. Stanley crosses his arms and considers them.

“The door on the left, you know the drill.”

Mm. No, he thinks he’ll take the door on the right. The lounge is calling his name, singing sweetly with its serene blue and photos. Then maybe he’ll play a different game behind a blue door.

There’s a little grumble that follows him when he heads to the right. Stanley smiles, gives a cheeky wink.

—

The narrator—ponders.

He doesn’t do it frequently; he finds he doesn’t like to. It’s quite easy for him to get stuck thinking about one little thing, one tiny detail, capturing all his attention until he comes back to himself and finds hours have passed and Stanley is sitting against a doorframe trying to entertain himself with a whiteboard and marker, having long since given up trying to capture his attention.

Pondering is not… good for him, the narrator thinks.

But, as he is prone to do, he catches himself going back to a moment, looking it over again and again, trying to glean something new.

Humans are social creatures. They need physical interaction and touch.

Do you have a body?

The narrator is a voice. He is a part of the parable, he is a mechanism. But then, Stanley is a mechanism of the parable as well; a vessel for a player.

It isn’t the same. They are intrinsically different. But do they have to be?

The narrator is and is not the world; he is and is not the halls, the doors, the very air itself. He controls it, it controls him. He has access to its assets; it has access to his mind.

He wonders if this is how humans feel about their own bodies. Both in control, and plagued by limitations.

Oh, for goodness’s sake, he’s doing it again. Going off on an inexplicable contemplation of the nature of humanity, existence and choice. Honestly, sometimes even the narrator doesn’t know what he’s on about.

The narrator doesn’t have a body. He doesn’t need a body.

Humans are social creatures. They need physical interaction and touch.

Would…

Would Stanley prefer it if he had a body?

I don’t need it.

He thinks on the hesitation in Stanley’s fingers. He wonders what it would be like to squeeze them.

Textures. Temperatures. Softness, firmness, sharpness. Scents, tastes.

Senses he knows about in theory. He has no frame of reference.

Would it be that difficult to make himself a character model? He has assets hidden in the code of the game, models he can edit, tweak, piece together to make something new.

Oh, but how could he choose the right features? How could he know when it’s really him?

And—oh no—what if Stanley dislikes it?

The narrator knows himself, he knows that if he wants to do something he commits to it until he thinks it’s perfect. He won’t settle for less. He’d put his heart and soul into it.

If he put all that work into a model, and Stanley didn’t like it?

He doesn’t think he’d take it very well.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what to do.

—

“When Stanley came to a set of two open doors, he—would you at least be so kind as to let me finish?” The voice berates Stanley as he swerves right without pause. Stanley doesn’t even roll his eyes.

He’s going to go see the lights.

There’s a nervous clearing of the throat. “S-Stanley was so bad at following directions—“

Spare him, please. He understands the needed script, but it grates a bit this time. Stanley balances on the edge of the platform, a hand around the support rail, timing his jump.

“Look, Stanley—“

Not his enemy. No, they’re not enemies. In fact, Stanley would go so far as to call the fellow his dear friend. It’s why he’s doing this.

This is not an act of cruelty. He knows the fear it strikes into the narrator, and in honesty Stanley cannot blame him. The number of times the protagonist has gone down this route just to find a different exit, all in vain, is not a high value, but it’s still too many.

There are only two ways out of the room behind the red door. One is in the narrator’s power, if he can overcome his own nature to use it. The other is in Stanley’s power, and makes them both miserable.

It’s not ideal. And it’s so frustrating, because this place really is beautiful. It really is up there as one of Stanley’s favorites.

Clearly anxious, but trying to keep his composure, the narrator loads the map into the starry dome. In the instant Stanley steps into the room, all the panic falls away, into an easy bliss.

“Oh…”

Stanley walks to the center of the platform and sits. He crosses his legs, craning his head up to watch the lights.

The narrator is quiet, but his flood of real peace is palpable. This is one of the places he seems most open. Most willing to relax.

Usually, that can be a danger after too long. He ends up stopping, never progressing forward, unwilling to move. That’s not a life.

But they’ve compromised on so many things. This is one of those things too.

[ I’m going to stay a while ], Stanley offers in the dark, knowing he will be seen. [ You’ve been preoccupied for a bit. Do you want to talk about it? ]

“I—“

The voice cuts itself off, clearly surprised, the anxiety slipping back in.

[ It’s okay if you don’t. I thought being here might help you deal with whatever’s going on. I’ll wait as long as you need. ]

—

To say the narrator is embarrassed is putting it mildly.

He feels caught red handed, even though he hasn’t even done anything.

“Am I really so obvious?” He grumbles, more to himself than to Stanley. The man grins anyway.

[ I know you. I pay attention. ]

“Hmph. That’s debatable,” he grouses. Still, Stanley was wise to come to this place to prod him. He’s much more at ease here. A little less ashamed, afraid, overwhelmed.

[ Like I said. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I’ll stay here while you sort out whatever’s been bothering you. This way you don’t have to be distracted by the narration. ]

He’s being…. Kind. So kind, to a person who used to be his enemy, his jailer. How has the narrator been so fortunate to have a Stanley that is so exceedingly good? He knows he certainly hasn’t been a fine example in the past.

He sighs. Stanley lays back, hands behind his head on the floor. It can’t be comfortable, on the metal grating. The narrator gives a small noise of warning, before he changes the texture pattern on the dark floor to the rug he’s saved for the Bottom of the Mind Control Facility Bucket ending. It’s a bit more comfortable than the carpet in the office.

It catches Stanley off guard a little, and the narrator chuckles as he shakes his head at the sudden change, like a wet dog shaking off water. But he settles back with a smile.

“If you intend to be there a while, you may as well be comfortable.”

It’s just… so easy. To be with Stanley. To do things for him. To try to make him smile. Like it’s innate. It wasn’t always. But he’s changed. The both of them have.

They look at the lights for a bit. The narrator feels himself relax. Like he’s floating. Like he is one of the lights, going up, down, changing slowly, unhurried and unconcerned.

Why has he been so worried?

It takes him a long minute to realize he wasn’t the one who had wondered that.

Stanley waits for him. Stanley doesn’t demand anything from him. Stanley’s intentions are entirely devoid of deceit or manipulation.

It makes this… easier.

“I…”

But not completely.

“I’ve been thinking. About making something new. I haven’t decided if I should do it, because, well—I worry you won’t like it.”

Stanley’s eyes are closed, but he’s awake. He’s listening.

The narrator is being very careful with his words. It’s been at least fifty runs since Stanley asked him about a model, so he knows at least that it doesn’t occur to the protagonist that this is related.

No, Stanley is wondering if the narrator has been considering new endings. Why wouldn’t he like the new endings? They aren’t ones where he dies painfully and miserably, are they?

The narrator chuckles good-naturedly, suddenly far more at ease. “No, Stanley. No cruel twists of fate that leave you mad or dead, that much I can assure you.”

Okay. Then Stanley isn’t sure why he wouldn’t like whatever the narrator makes for him, if it comes from some place genuine.

It leaves him a little tongue-tied. The narrator hears himself swallow, without a throat.

“It’s not that simple.”

Why not?

“Because…”

Because he doesn’t just want Stanley to like it. He doesn’t want Stanley to be happy because it’s a new thing.

He wants Stanley to like him. He wants to make this thing himself, the way humans shape their bodies to fit the way they picture themselves in their heads, and he wants Stanley to like what he sees.

It would be him. It would be his. And if Stanley was just neutral about it, or just didn’t like how he looked, then—

Oh, he couldn’t bear it. It would hurt him irrevocably. He’d throw it into the deepest pit of code and never think about it again.

“I… I think, if I did try to make this, this idea I’m considering, a reality, well—you know I don’t do things halfway. I’d be so—it needs to be perfect, do you understand? And if I spend all this time on it, only for you to, to—“

To treat it like his story.

“—yes! Exactly! Oh, Stanley, this is for you, it’s all for you. I just want to make something for you that you’ll care about, and appreciate.”

(And love, he is certain not to say. There’s no need to attach such words to this idea yet, that’s a little too dangerous.)

Stanley is very quiet. He’s thinking, but he’s thinking in that way where he wants to be certain with his words, so the narrator gives him his privacy. The narrator looks at the lights. He lets himself relax again.

He can feel Stanley’s tender heart. His compassion. Stanley cares deeply for him, can see how much it matters to him.

A desire fills the protagonist, an intense longing he can’t bury, hard as he tries. The voice can’t help peeking at it, not when it’s bubbling over like a boiling pot against a lid.

More than anything, Stanley wishes he could hug the fellow.

He must make some noise of surprise, because Stanley’s demeanor changes instantly to one of embarrassment and trying to recontextualize.

He wants to comfort the narrator! He doesn’t mean to make it weird! He just wishes he was able to provide the fellow a physical sort of validation!

The narrator feels more than sees Stanley’s face flushing all the way to his ears. He can’t help laughing, not at the man necessarily, not even meaning it at his expense. It’s just…

It’s a little adorable?

Stanley’s embarrassment only grows. Welp. Moment ruined. Time to go throw himself off the stairs.

“Absolutely not!” The laughter dies instantly, turning to an angry sort of panic. Stanley flinches.

Right. Not a funny joke when it’s here.

The narrator inhales deeply. “God, you gave me a fright.”

He can feel the genuine remorse radiating off his friend. Forgives him immediately.

“It’s—it’s alright. Slip of the tongue, as they say.”

Well, Stanley can’t talk, but, yeah. They both are on the same page.

“In any case. Thank you for listening. I… I think I will try, actually. I honestly appreciate your… your sentiment.”

The narrator can hear the smile in his voice. Yes, he’s going to go through with this. He’s certain now.

Because Stanley wants to hug him. And that in itself has erased all his doubts.

Still.

“Can we… stay here, for a little longer?”

He’ll reset. He will. Stanley doesn’t need to hurt himself. It’s just…

It’s so peaceful here.

Stanley shoots a thumbs up at the ceiling, towards the lights. The narrator relaxes again. Tries to imagine himself laying besides Stanley. Looking up with him. He wants it more than anything.

“Thank you, Stanley. I… thank you.”

Soon.

#the sparrow parable #the stanley parable #tsp #tspud #may writes #this was done on my phone so I prefer to keep it bite sized #I might do more for this concept but this for now is so solid that it stands fine as it is #also the narrator is kind of gay. but not intentionally.#they’re still firmly platonic. but they want to hug.

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a-gal-with-taste · 2 years

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Fishbowl

Something silly talked about with a few fellow degenerates, Silco's obsession with fish needs to be spoken about more.

"Beautiful, aren't they?"

You jumped, your finger retracting from where it rested on the glass, like it was electrocuted.

"Sorry! Sorry, I got the paperwork, I just, uh..." Standing straight, you held out the paperwork with your eyes on your boss, casually standing at the doorway. You could only hold his gaze for a moment, before it fell back down onto the fishbowl on the desk. "... I just wasn't prepared for the... new decor, sir."

"And I wasn't aware I needed to put up a warning sign," Tone dry as he crosses the room, taking the papers from your grasp. "If apparently my own subordinate can be distracted by fish."

Though his words were biting, there was something about him that almost... softened? No, but something indeed changed in his cool look as his gaze slid from you, to the simple bowl of fish on his desk. They were small, not that colorful, and rather lazy in their laps around the bowl.

And Silco seemed to forget your presence, possibly your entire existance, as he studied them. You felt almost bad to interrupt his concentrated staring at them, and a bit uneasy as you lifted your fist, coughing once for his attention.

"What?"

"I," A thick swallow. "I need a, uh... signature?"

A sigh, as if you were personally exhausting him, but with a flick and a flourish, the paper was soon shoved back into your hand as his other carefully pulled out a small, plastic cylinder. You swear you saw the little marine creatures perk-up at the sound of rattling from the contents, while the ominous Eye of Zaun glowered as he sat back at his desk.

"Anything else?" He pressed lowly while finishing shaking up the fish-food pellets, thumbing open the cap. Quickly shaking your head in the negative, you turned to make a quick escape, but then, stupidly, your mouth opened, "I uh... I grew up in the Alcoves, sir."

Hand paused over the mouth of the bowl. His tone still flat and unimpressed, "Ah. Exactly what I want to hear, the beginnings of a history-lesson. Forgive me if I'm not in the mood to be taught." Again, your traitor-mouth seemed keen to dig your own grave for you, because you kept talking.

"As you know, sir, the top level of Zaun is mostly a fishing-district, canneries and the like... b-but they teach us how to take care of fish, catch the more decorative ones, sell in the market and get the kids excited... I mean with the river-mutations, you don't get many things that come out looking pretty from the river, but there are a few that-"

"The point. Today, if possible."

"Pebbles." You swallowed, tapping your nails on the paper in hand, making it waver. "Um... I wouldn't put kelp in there, but river-rocks would be preferable. Maybe a fake-tree or leaves too, but definitely a bigger container for them, sir. It would make them..." Ears burned; you knew how ridiculous you must sound. "... happier?"

A small clacking sound as the plastic food-container tapped on the surface of the desk. "Is that a question or advice I should actually listen to? Alcovites are known for their forwardness, something I appreciate, but apparently you're the rare exception to the trait."

Ears were scorching now, but you said nothing. After a moment, fingers wrapped around the little cylinder again, and tipped some of the food in. Watching the creatures immediately dart to devour at the miniature pellets, Silco watched with his natural eye hooded and thinking, tapping nails agaisnt his desk.

"... I'll consider your advice. You know where the door is." He didn't thank you, and you didn't dare stick around for one, merely taking the initiative to dart out the door. Silently vowing to never broach the subject again, on how to care for pet fish with the Eye of Zaun, you shoved the mortifying interaction from your mind, and prayed he did to...

Still, you couldn't help but stare for a few seconds more the next time you walked into the office, and saw a new mini-aquarium at one of the bookshelves.

Complete, with river-pebbles.

#Silco and reader being fish enthusiasts: 🤝#not the pairing i expected to write today but hey #not complaining #shitpost #silco #arcane #arcane silco #silco & reader #silco x reader #imagine falling in love over fish #how romantic #oneshot #my writing

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pentechnics · 3 years

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Puzzle Piece

Chapter 12 of Of Love and Time

Summary: Your sickness takes over. A surprise visitor just might have an unexpected cure. You discover a space filling up that you didn't even know was empty.

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (no y/n)

Series content: teacher/parent AU, fluff, slow burn, lots of mutual pining, sexual tension, mentions of past trauma (tagged in detail for specific chapters), depictions of violence (nothing explicit, no gore), angst, a dash of hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, Grogu is at the equivalent age of a human 4-year-old and can speak

Notes: Y'ALL. Okay. I seriously need your attention for a sec before you start reading. This chapter right here? This is the chapter. The one I've been waiting to write ever since I thought of this idea, which happened around when I posted chapter 2 or 3. I have poured my entire soul into this one and I am SO HAPPY with it. I fought so hard with myself, wondering if it was ready to post or not, and I'm not sure why, but it's here now and I hope y'all enjoy. I have been dying to share it with you!! But this is where things get tricky and I'll need your help. I'm worried that now that I've written this one, that I might lose motivation for this story. Especially as new fic ideas start to crowd my brain. I'm 100% still writing this fic and seeing it through to the end, fret not, but it's just that chapters might take a bit longer to get out than they have so far. So just pls keep up the love and let me know you're still invested! It'll definitely help with my motivation! Also if any fellow fic writers have any advice for this phenomenon?? It'd be greatly welcomed and appreciated! 🥺

Okay, that's all! Thank you for your attention! Please enjoy this Long Boi and let me know what you think! I'll say this now because I have a feeling I'll be saying it a lot as you all react: you're welcome, and I am sorry. 😜

I'm beyond grateful for all the love you continue to give this story. It means the world to me! I love you all so much! ❤️

As always, taglist is under the cut! Let me know if you'd like to be added!

Chapter content: mention of vomiting, nothing descriptive

“...Din?”

It was hardly a whisper. You were frozen in place, staring at Din, who stood on your porch with several bags cradled in his hands. His brown shoulder bag was also slung across his body. Butterflies filled your gut as if a box filled with them had been opened, releasing them to freedom. You blinked several times to make sure you weren’t hallucinating.

“Are you okay? I… heard you weren’t well.”

The sound of his velvety voice after so long felt like a splash of cool water on your burning face. You took in a gulp of air.

“I-um, yeah, just a little under the weather.” You hated how coarse you sounded, but pushed the thought away and stood to the side, opening the door for him.

“Come in.”

He nodded and made his way through the door. Your mind was racing with questions — the loudest one being how you were supposed to treat this encounter. You stepped toward him after shutting the door and took a breath, gesturing to what looked like every grocery item the planet had to offer.

“What’s all this?”

Din set the bags down before looking back at you. “I was asked to deliver something to you.”

“Was it the entire grocery store?” You teased, trying to add a little laugh that came out sounding like a dying Loth Cat.

Din reached into his shoulder bag and produced a large piece of yellow poster paper.

“This is from your students.”

Your lips parted as you looked between Din and the paper, your frail hands accepting it from him. The cover read ‘Get Well Soon!’ in very squiggly writing, along with a variety of little drawings — planets, creatures, hearts and other shapes, even some portraits of the artists themselves — surrounding the words. You bit your lip as your heart swelled.

You opened up the card to find fourteen little messages with a signature and drawings next to each one. They wished you well, said they missed you, and sent you soup and other treats via their drawings. It was all so precious. But the message that had you fighting tears was near the bottom on the right side, next to a heart and a familiar-looking drawing of a Blurrg:

“You can count on us too, Miss! Like 1 2 3! We love you, feel better soon! -All of us”

You cupped your mouth with a hand and took in a breath through your nose while you took in the sweet words. Their kindness sent a wave of warmth through you, like a fuzzy blanket tucked around your heart. It was overwhelming. You closed the card and held it to your chest, watery eyes returning to Din.

“Thank you for delivering this. It means a lot.”

“You’re welcome.”

You glanced back down at the pile of bags at Din’s feet.

“So then, what’s up with all that?”

Din looked at the pile as well, gloved hand coming up to scratch his neck.

“I-uh, wasn’t sure what you liked, so I picked up a few different things.”

Your mind went blank. You opened your mouth to say something, but your brain wasn’t producing any words.

“I wasn’t sure what you were sick with, either, so I brought stuff to help different problems.”

“You-... you got all this for me?” you asked, your tone betraying your disbelief.

“Din, you didn’t have to do that-”

“I know.”

His gaze snapped to you, arms snapping to his sides.

“I wanted to.”

You sighed and gave him a weak smile.

“Well, thank you. I… really appreciate it.”

He nodded before picking up a couple of the bags.

“There are some things that need to be refrigerated, could I…?” he jabbed his head towards your living room.

“Oh- yeah, of course. The kitchen’s just through there.” You stepped into the living room and pointed the way for him.

“Thank you.”

Just before you could offer to take care of it yourself, he cut you off.

“Don’t even. I’ll just be a minute.”

You were caught off guard, but recovered after a moment with a laugh and a shake of your head. You tucked the card into the space between your wall and your holo stand and stepped back to the entryway to peek in the other bags. Some crackers, various hydrators, fresh produce, and other such goodies were tucked inside.

Wait- were those your favorite cookies in there? Your brow raised as you eyed the box.

“So what have your symptoms been?”

Your head snapped up as Din re-entered the room, causing it to throb. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Um, I’ve been vomiting, my head’s hurting, chills, when I stand up I get kinda light-headed. I can’t really tell if I have a fever or not since I’ve been constantly hot and cold.”

Din didn’t answer right away. You heard a tiny beeping sound.

“You’re burning up.”

You opened your eyes and tilted your head. Din just pointed to his helmet.

“Ah, thermal map?”

He nodded.

“Very cool,” you said with a nod. He took a step towards you.

“You know, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone with symptoms like that. It could be dangerous if you faint or fall.”

“I’ll be fine,” you insisted.

He tilted his head in that exasperated way.

“You’re not standing straight, Missy.”

“Pssh,” you scoffed, “sure I am.”

You were wrong. A moment later you were falling over. Din was quick to catch you. You grasped his upper arms to steady yourself.

“Yeah, okay — I’m cashing in my winnings from the race now.”

You looked up at him.

“Let me help you. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay.”

You stared into his visor, unsure of what to do.

“Say the word and I’ll leave. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But… I’m worried for you. If you’ll let me, I’d like to help.”

You couldn’t help feeling guilty; after everything you’d done, he still wants to help you? It didn’t make total sense, but you weren’t in a position to say no. Not when he was right and you were presently too dizzy to stand on your own. And you couldn’t lie — the last thing you wanted was for him to leave.

“... Okay.”

He let out a breathy sigh.

“Thank you. Let’s sit you down now, okay?”

You nodded and let Din walk you over to the couch. He pulled your covers up over your legs. You smiled and invited him to sit next to you. He did so, though he kept himself stiff as a board.

“So when did this start?” he asked.

“Early this morning.” you said, letting yourself hit the back of the couch. You recounted the details of waking up to a nasty surprise and then calling in sick.

“I’m sorry that happened,” he said when you finished. “It sounds familiar to me, though.”

“What do you think it is?”

“My best guess is stress,” he said as he turned his body to face you. “You might’ve put yourself through too much, and now your body’s shutting down and forcing you to rest.”

You scoffed. “Sounds like me.”

A light silence fell over you both. You were grateful it wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward, but the guilt of not contacting him in so long still swirled about in your mind.

“One thing that might help is letting it out. What sort of stress have you been holding?”

You looked at him with raised brows, you brain going through a checklist of what had been bothering you as of late: having feelings for Din, not knowing how to express them, knowing you shouldn’t express them — yet, at least — guilt for leaving him hanging, fear over how he felt about you now, guilt for not telling Gila about what happened and going through whatever process that would jumpstart-

Your stomach churned again. There really was a lot on your mind. You took a breath.

“Well,” you started, “I guess I’ve just been doing a lot of thinking about things. And some of it has been hard to work through.”

He motioned for you to continue.

You bit your lip. He said to let it out, right? What was the use in keeping this in, especially now that Din was right in front of you? You let your tongue take over and say the first thing to come to mind.

“I was scared you were angry with me.”

“What? Why?” He asked with a tilt of his head and a small scoff.

“I shouldn’t have run out on you like that, and I’m sorry I haven’t called or messaged you. I just needed to figure myself out and there’s so much to talk about… I just didn’t know what to do.”

“Hey, wait,” he scooched a bit closer to you. “I don’t blame you for that. Not at all.”

You looked at him. There was no way for you to visually gauge his sincerity, but you didn’t need to — it was in his voice.

“I understand that the circumstances are tricky. I knew that going into it, but I guess I couldn’t help myself.”

You gave him a little smile.

“I am sorry, though,” he continued, “I don’t regret doing it, but I do regret the pain it’s causing you.”

“I don’t regret it either, really, but I do have to report myself to the admins for it. And I just don’t know what that’s going to look like.”

He let out an irritated sigh.

“I’m so sorry, Miss.”

“Hey,” you placed a hand on his where it rested on his thigh. “I might be scared, but I can face the music. I’m just worried about what it’ll mean for you and Grogu.”

He turned his palm up to clasp your hand.

“Don’t worry about us,” he said, visor locked on you. “We’ve seen worse.”

You took in a breath and gave him a small grin.

“See? How does that feel now?”

“A little lighter.”

“Good.”

You squeezed his hand.

“Thank you for listening.”

He nodded.

“So then…” you trailed off, eyes finding his visor again. “Are we okay?”

He bowed his head down to you, scooching closer before sandwiching your hand in both of his.

“Of course.”

You smiled.

“I do think we should have an actual conversation about everything, just so we know we’re on the same page.”

“That sounds good,” he said with another nod. “But let’s wait until you’re better, okay? Wouldn’t want to aggravate your system while it’s healing.”

You grinned.

“Smart idea.”

He caressed your hand with both of his. The feeling reminded you of that night, when he drove you home and told you his name. You remembered how much you wanted to keep holding on. You took a deep breath and squeezed his hand.

Just as you were settling back into silence, your stomach lurched. Your hand flew up to your mouth. Din sprang into action and handed you one of the stray plastic bags. You projected your head into it just in time to let your body release whatever infuriating substance that remained in your stomach. Your throat burned with each heave.

After a moment you felt Din scooch closer to you, gathering your hair behind your head. One hand held it back and the other came to rest between your shoulder blades. His fingers ran slowly back and forth from their position. The sensation was so gentle and warm; it immediately began to ease the tension in your body. You sighed before your body jumped back into its protest.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Din whispered.

“Let it all out, I’ve got you.”

After some more coughs and spurts, your breathing evened out. You poked your eyes out from the bag and looked around your messy floor. The sight of discarded gloves and gauntlets had you furrowing your brow.

Your eyes widened as Din’s bare hand held the tissue box out to you.

It was beautiful — large, with thick, defined appendages. Glowing brown skin that had you gasping for breath for reasons unrelated to your health. You took a tissue to wipe off your face and kept your gaze away, a bit grateful for the excuse to hide your flushed cheeks.

After tying the bag shut Din took it from your shivering hands and set it on the floor.

“Let’s lay you back down.”

He gently gripped your shoulders and guided your weary frame back down onto the couch. He removed his cape and draped it onto you, then brought up your covers and tucked them around you.

“I’m going to go take care of this for you real quick, okay? I’ll be back.”

You whispered a hoarse ‘okay’ in response. You stared into his visor and tried to manage a little smile to show your gratitude. He gave your shoulder a small squeeze and stood from the couch. He gathered up all the bags holding the contents of your current and previous episodes from throughout the day and turned back to you.

“Is the trash bin out back?” he asked.

You nodded and pointed behind you.

“By the back door.”

He nodded and walked off. You sighed and rubbed the worn fabric of his cape between your fingers. Despite the lingering embarrassment of the situation, you were happy he was there. Both he and Gila had been right about it being a bad idea to try handling this alone. And his presence was so soothing — like reaching an oasis after spending weeks in the bone-dry desert, moments away from your last breath only to be saved by the relief of sweet water down your parched throat.

With the thought of parched throats, you eyed your water bottle on the ground. But your face immediately scrunched up at the notion of putting more things in your body. You shook your head and pulled Din’s cape over your mouth, closing your eyes and resting your head against the couch. The faint sound of running water filled your ears as you focused on your breathing.

You heard the faint tap of Din’s boots on your carpet before some shuffling, then the sound of plastic being moved about. Moments later the couch sunk beside you as Din sat back down. He brushed a stray hair out of your face before his hand came to rest on your forehead. You sighed and leaned into the contact. His skin was cool against the fresh sweat that covered yours. His thumb traced upward from your eyebrow in a continuous motion. Your muscles relaxed.

“Is that a little better?” came his gentle tone.

You nodded under his hand.

“Good. Just keep resting, okay?”

He replaced his hand with a damp cloth before he stood from the couch. You frowned and cracked your eyes open. Din was opening your living room window, mindful to keep the curtain down to shield you from the sunlight. Once he was finished, he strode across the room once more. “I’ll be right back,” he called.

You closed your eyes again. The calming sound of a wind chime swaying in the breeze flew through the window. You focused on it to keep from thinking about your stomach.

~~~

Boba finished preparing ingredients for dinner as his comm buzzed in his pocket. It was a message from Din.

‘I’m going to stay here for a while,’ it read, ‘She’s really not doing well and it’s not safe to leave her alone.’

Boba let out a small ‘huh.’ He began typing a reply.

‘Figured it was bad. We’ll take care of the child. Give her our best.’

He moved to pocket his comm when a light bulb went off in his head. He whipped the message feed back up and added another note.

‘Packed you some spare clothes in your sack. Y’know, just in case. Let us know if you two need anything.’

Boba set the comm in his pocket and headed over to where Fennec and Grogu sat on the sofa in the living room, watching a program about the misadventures of some fictional aquatic creature. They both turned to him.

“Any word from Mando?” Fennec asked.

Boba nodded.

“He’s with her now. She’s very sick, so he’ll be staying with her to make sure she’s taken care of.”

“Is Miss gonna be okay?” Grogu asked, wringing his fingers together in his lap. Fennec tugged him into her side.

“She’ll be just fine, kiddo. Promise.”

Boba nodded in agreement and knelt down to look at Grogu before adding,

“And now your papa is there to help, and he gave her the special card you all made. I bet she’ll be better even faster than you think.”

“Really?” Grogu asked with a smile.

“Maybe,” Boba said with a shrug. “It’s always possible.”

Boba gave Grogu a wink, which made him giggle.

“Miss is gonna be better soon,” Grogu said, clenching his hands into fists.

“That’s right. No need to worry, little guy.”

Boba stood and patted Grogu on the head.

“How about a little treat before dinner?”

“His dad wouldn’t be too thrilled about that,” Fennec said between chuckles.

“Well, he’s not here now, is he?” Boba replied, booping Grogu’s nose while giving him a mischievous smile.

“Shh, I won’t tell,” Grogu whispered, putting a little finger to his mouth.

The three of them shared a laugh. Boba lifted Grogu into his arms and the trio made their way into the kitchen to peruse their options.

~~~

You blinked your eyes open and immediately winced at the pain returning to your head. Din was sitting next to you, head facing the holofeed. He turned to you as you stirred.

“Hey,” he said.

He had removed his boots and the rest of his armor, the pieces sitting in a neat pile against the wall.

“Did I fall asleep?” you asked, removing the now warm cloth from your face.

“Yeah, for a little bit. How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” you said with a little yawn. “My head’s still killing me, though.”

He nodded.

“It might be a good time to try these out.”

He reached behind him and produced a box of plain crackers. You pulled the covers over your mouth.

“Don’t worry, these are meant to stay down. It’ll be a good start for your stomach.”

You looked up at him. He solidified his words with a nod.

“We’ll need to get some food in you before you can take any medicine.”

You furrowed your brow before slowly nodding and sitting up. He opened the box and handed you a packet of crackers. You took one out and examined it. Big salt crystals decorated its surface, and little holes created a neat pattern in its center.

“It’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”

You glanced at Din before taking a deep breath and biting into the cracker. Its salty flavor pleased your taste buds, and you didn’t feel any dread from your body as you swallowed.

“It’s good,” you said as you finished it off.

“I’m glad. Grogu likes these a lot. I honestly think they’re too salty.”

“The salt is the best part!” you said with a little giggle, taking out another cracker.

He laughed and shook his head.

“Just be careful, don’t eat them too fast. I’m guessing you haven’t had much food today.”

You shook your head.

“We’ll get you a real meal after your body adjusts to those. Once you’ve had a few more, try one of these.”

He reached behind him again and pulled out a bright green drink in a tiny bottle.

“This is filled with electrolytes, it’ll help replenish your body. It’s also meant to be easier on your stomach.”

“Okay,” you took the little bottle and placed it in your lap next to your crackers.

“Thank you again for all this, Din. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

He gently placed his hand on your knee.

“It’s my pleasure, Miss.”

You stared at his hand. Large and strong, easily taking up the entire surface area of your knee with space to spare. Bones protruded through the skin as his fingers moved about. A similar sense of confusion flooded your senses, just like when you saw his chin. Was this a sight you deserved to see? What made him trust you enough to be so vulnerable? You looked up at him.

“I know we said we were going to wait, but… can I ask you something?”

His visor locked onto you, his hand going stiff on your knee.

“Okay.”

“Why me?”

“What do you mean?” he asked back with a tilt of the head.

“I mean… I guess I’m just wondering how you trust me enough to do things like this-” you motioned to his bare hand before looking back up.

“We haven’t known each other very long, and I know gestures like this are a big deal, so I don’t quite understand it.”

He didn’t answer right away. A little ‘tch’ sound bounced out of his modulator before he shifted to face you.

“Let me tell you, then.”

He took his hand away from your knee and tucked your hair behind your ear.

“For me, trusting someone isn’t so much a matter of time. It’s a matter of action. Of words. I choose to trust someone after seeing for myself what makes them who they are, and how they treat other people. With you…”

His knuckles ran up and down your cheek. Your heart rate increased as electricity flowed through your face. You were blown away by how soft his skin was. You gulped and tried to focus on his words instead of the way his touch clouded your mind.

“With you, I knew I could trust you after talking to you about Grogu those first few times. It didn’t take long, because he’d come home and rave about you. And I trust his judgement. Then I’d go see you and you’d be the same way about him. That told me you genuinely cared about him.

As time went on and I saw more of you, I noticed more things that I liked. And I wanted to start trusting you… with myself.”

Your mind went blank. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Your tongue ran on without you, your brain too tired to think before speaking.

“Din,” you breathed, “how does someone as broken as me give you the confidence to do that?”

He sat straighter.

“What? Broken?”

A little shock pierced your gut. He sounded angry. You looked down at your crackers.

“I just- I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but people don’t typically stay around me for very long. Gila’s the one exception but more often than not, I’m more of a pit stop.”

You took a breath.

“Something about me makes people leave. I don’t know what, but I don’t want to disappoint you by not being capable of being constant or long-lasting. I don’t want you to regret any of these choices.”

You stared at his hand again, memorizing every curve of the bones, every little spot that decorated the beautiful skin. You took it all in as if this would be the last time you’d ever get to see it.

“Hey- look at me.”

You didn’t move. You couldn’t bear to look. Your chest fell with the heft of your words, a dull pain seeping through. He called your name as he grabbed your chin and brought your face up. You froze in his grip.

“There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing you’ve done has made you deserve to be treated badly. I need you to understand that.”

You didn’t say a word.

“And I know it hurts,” he went on, “but you can’t let those experiences stop you from letting people in. Believe me.”

All you could do was stare as he continued, hand leaving your chin and coming around to cup your cheek.

“You are an incredible person. Strong, smart, determined, feisty,” he let out a little laugh.

“… Breathtaking… in every sense of the word.”

He paused with a sigh, thumb sweeping across the apple of your cheek.

“Just because some people couldn’t handle all of that does not mean you have done anything wrong. Those traits are part of what makes you you, things I have grown to... appreciate.”

You had a feeling that last word wasn’t what he wanted to say, but you didn’t push it. You were helpless under his gaze, mind completely blank. He whispered your name, soft and tender, like he was keeping it safe on his lips. The sound of it filled your heart with warmth and life, as if a dormant volcano was suddenly erupting in your soul. His hand fell to your shoulder before he continued.

“I choose to trust you because of the person you’ve shown to me. All of those things, plus how kind, loyal, caring, selfless…”

His hand squeezed your shoulder, his other one moving to cover one of yours in your lap. How was his skin so soft? The contact sent a blaze through your every nerve.

“... and so, so much more, that you are. You deserve to have people in your life that recognize and uplift these things about you — don’t forget that.”

Those words pierced you, as if you’d been shot in the heart with a blaster. You hadn’t expected any of this. Your chest squeezed as tears pricked behind your eyes.

“You want to know what amazes me most about you?”

You didn’t speak. You hardly breathed.

“How you choose to love people. Even though life has been cold to you, you go into it with warmth. You treat everyone with the things you weren’t even getting. That kind of love is so rare. Don’t you see, that’s what defines you — the way you choose to love despite what you’ve been through. Does that really sound broken to you?”

A tear spilled from your eye. Your mind was swimming. Your heart was pounding. You stared at Din as he tilted his head closer to you, his thumb running across your knuckles. You didn’t know what else to do other than lean forward, your head falling onto his shoulder. His muscles tensed before settling again under your touch, his hands coming to rest on your back. He quietly cleared his throat before pulling you a little closer.

It was as if he’d taken your abused heart and kissed the bruises that decorated it. Not getting rid of them, but easing the ache, and then held it close to protect the fragile organ from further harm.

He held you in his arms like the most precious of gems: a gentle and firm caress that had you sighing against the fabric of his flight suit. You mumbled a little ‘thank you,’ and he squeezed your frame.

You’d never felt so at home before. He was so warm. So safe. His being encased you in a shield of soft affection that you never wanted to part from. You surrendered to the sensation, your hand coming up to rest on Din’s chest.

This was different from when he’d held you as the two of you put Grogu to bed — this was yours. Right now, he was all yours.

And you were all his.

~~~

“Yeah, I think that’s doable,” Gila said into her comm. She jotted a note down as she spoke.

“What other ideas did you have?”

A small knock proceeded Kos entering her office, waving a hand in apology. She nodded at them.

“Someone wants to see you, says it’s urgent.”

Gila scrunched her brow, ducking her head towards her comm.

“Hey- I’m going to have to call you back.”

After a brief goodbye she hung up the call and asked Kos to send in the visitor. Her brow shot up and her mouth made an ‘o’ as they walked in. Kos closed the door to her office, leaving the two alone.

“I didn’t know you were still here — what can I do for you?”

The visitor walked up and took a seat across from Gila, hands folded together in their lap.

“I need to file a report.”

~~~

You weren’t sure how long you stayed in Din’s arms before your stomach growled. To your dismay he nudged you back up and encouraged you to keep eating, separating from you aside from a hand on your leg.

Once you’d had a few more crackers and downed the little bottle of green liquid, energy slowly began to flow through your system. The dried layers of sweat on your face became more apparent when you scratched your nose. You grimaced.

“I feel kinda gross,” you said, “I think I’m okay enough to take a shower.”

“Sounds good, in the meantime I’ll get some food ready for you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“On one condition,” you held up a finger. He tilted his head.

“You make sure to eat, too. Can’t be taking care of me if you’re not also cared for.”

He scoffed.

“Says you, Missy.”

You tried to keep down a chuckle and fix him with a look.

“But don’t worry. I will.”

You smiled and poised your feet on the ground. You took a deep breath and held onto Din’s offered hand to hoist yourself up, your other one holding his cape to your frame. You wobbled a bit before finding your footing, your mind still going foggy from the movement.

Din stood with you and gathered your things into a bag.

“You okay to walk?” he asked.

“I think so,” you said, wrapping the cape around your shoulders. You took a few small steps towards the stairs, Din staying just behind you.

You made it to the staircase before you needed to stop, your body still weak and heavy. Din placed a hand on your back.

“Can you make it up?”

You took your breaths slow and deep, never feeling like you were getting enough air. You glanced up at Din with a small shrug. He stepped closer and wrapped his arm around you.

“May I?”

You nodded. But you didn’t expect him to scoop you up in his arms, balancing the bag of items in his hand while his arm came under your knees to hold you secure. You let out a little squeal; he snickered.

Your head landed in the crook of his neck. The fabric of his cowl was softer against your skin than his flight suit. Half of your face was shielded by the lip of his helmet, cloaking your vision in partial darkness. The slight turbulence that came with each step had you slightly bumping up and down in Din’s grasp, the motions relaxing you when paired with the heat from his body.

Your mind wandered to your dreams, where your head ended up in this spot almost every time. In a home, in a park, in other places you didn’t recognize. No matter the context, you gravitated to it. Now that you were actually here, it was no wonder your subconscious wanted it so badly. You fit perfectly, like this spot was made for your head to rest on. You smiled and nuzzled into the cowl, breathing in that crisp scent that always accompanied Din’s presence.

His neck muscles flexed when he swallowed. He gave you a little squeeze.

When you two made it up the stairs, you pointed the way to your room, reassuring him with a giggle that he could enter when he hesitated at the door. He set you down by your bed and began placing your essentials on your nightstand. You tossed the cape on the bed and started walking towards the bathroom.

“I’ll go start on the food now,” Din said when he finished. “Is there anything you’d like me to bring from downstairs?”

You stopped to face him and thought for a moment. You briefly remembered that cookie box you spotted and bit your lip.

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring the cookies.”

Your wide eyes snapped to him, and he laughed. He doubled over, hand on his knee, and he laughed.

There it was. The belly laugh you’d been aching to hear. Nothing was covering it up, nothing at all interrupted the path between his laugh and your ears. It only lasted for a moment but it had you gasping for air.

It was beautiful.

The ethereal sound of his baritone hysterics reverberated through every inch of your body, sending goosebumps up your arms. Your cheeks ached from the stretch of your smile.

“How did you know?” you asked, glee pouring out of your voice. He took a second to catch his breath.

“I saw you looking at them earlier. Guess I made a good choice.”

You giggled.

“Anything else?”

You shook your head.

“I think I’m good. But bring anything you want, too, and please use whatever you need. Just make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” he said with a nod before making his way out.

You crept into your bathroom and popped into the shower. The warm water did little to help your situation. Your body was already so hot, but a cold shower would only exacerbate your symptoms. Though washing away the sweat and grime from the day still filled you with a sense of refreshment. You took your time, washing off every surface and letting the steam cleanse your sinuses.

There were moments when you’d talk yourself into staying in there just a bit longer, so that Din would have more time to eat in peace.

When you were done you changed into a clean set of pajamas and wrapped a towel around your dripping hair. Your body felt a little stronger than it had beforehand, which you were grateful for. Though your steps were still wobbly as you made your way to the door and opened it.

You stopped.

There was Din, sitting on the edge of your bed. A bowl of food sat on your bedside table behind him. The faint daylight from the window bounced off the beskar, making the chrome surfaces glitter like crystal. The image of him here, in your bedroom, having made you a meal, stirred something in you. You wanted to cry.

What gave him the right, you wondered. What gave him the right to bring you to your knees just by existing.

It was as if someone had reached into the recesses of your mind and pulled out your idea of what perfection looked like, then molded it into reality before your eyes. It seemed so natural to have him here, being part of your home. You wondered how you were ever able to live in this room alone, much less the whole house. After this, you never wanted to do that again. A small huff left your lips.

Shit, you thought.

Oh.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

Your head began to spin and your hand clenched around the doorframe. You leaned over, your free hand gripping the air as your legs began to give out.

Din looked up and immediately made his way to you, arms extended in caution. Your eyes never left him.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked as you looked into his visor. Your chest heaved with short breaths. You nodded quickly, not trusting your words to dismiss his worry. He was not convinced.

“Are you sure? Come here.”

He wrapped his arms around you and stood you up straight. He supported your frame as he brought his hand to your forehead, pressing the back of it against your freshly cleaned skin. Your eyes didn’t move from where they stared into the black abyss.

“At least you don’t feel feverish anymore. Let’s get you some food.”

You let him lead you to the bed with his hands on your shoulders.

He helped you settle in. You pulled his cape over your legs before laying against the headboard and letting him put your covers over you. He handed you the bowl. You stared at his figure: broad and strong. Hands capable of just as much gentleness as they were of wrangling bounties. The stories those hands could tell, you thought. You wanted to hear them. You took a couple deep breaths, filing away your thoughts in favor of maintaining at least some of your composure.

You tapped the bed next to you, inviting Din to sit with you. He hesitated, looking between you and the spot before rounding the bed. He stopped again and looked at you. You smiled and nodded, tapping the spot again. He slowly lowered himself down, stretching his legs out beside yours and folding his hands in his lap. The extra weight on the bed had you feeling secure; you smiled.

“Thank you for making this,” you said as you looked at the food.

It was so colorful; Din had created a soup with a clear broth, noodles, and plenty of veggies swimming with what looked like Bantha meat. You recognized most of these ingredients from the grocery bags he’d brought with him.

“I hope you like it. It usually helps me when I’m not well.”

You took a bite. Your eyes went wide.

Warmth encompassed your mouth and spread throughout your body. The combination of flavors from the produce and the perfectly prepared Bantha marched in a colorful parade around your taste buds.

Tears welled in your eyes. It had been so long since you felt this sensation.

“Is it okay?” came Din’s quiet question beside you. You nodded profusely as you swallowed.

“It’s amazing!”

You took another bite, a smile growing despite you trying to chew. Din chuckled.

“Now don’t go too fast, your stomach is still fragile.”

You nodded again. You’d forgotten about that. You slowed down the pace and put your spoon down in the bowl. You looked over at Din.

“Did you eat?”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a laugh. “I had some soup downstairs.”

“That’s good,” you replied with a nod.

The two of you sat in a small silence. You took a couple more bites of your food. Even though the silence was comfortable, you started worrying that Din might be bored.

“I don’t have a holoconnection in here,” you started, ”but I do have a data pad if you want to watch something… or something.”

He hummed.

“Is there something you’d like to watch?”

“I don’t watch too many things nowadays,” you started, “but there is this one show I found that’s pretty funny. I just started it not too long ago.”

“Let’s do that,” he said, “it’ll probably help get your mind off things.”

You smiled and reached down to retrieve your data pad from your bedside, a hand keeping the soup stable on your lap. Din reached for the data pad, offering to put on the show for you while you continued eating.

“What’s it called?”

“Parks and Recreation.”

He tilted his head toward you.

“I know, it’s a weird title. But I promise it’s funny.”

He huffed and pulled it up, setting the data pad down between his legs and yours.

The next episode in your lineup played. You and Din watched along as you ate your soup. You glanced over every now and then to see if you could gauge a reaction from him.

As the episode went on you got worried; he had been letting out little laughs here and there, but you had no idea what was coming. When Ron Swanson got back together with Tami II again and things got weird, you wondered if he’d be turned off from it.

On the contrary; he laughed all the more. He asked questions. He would point and provide commentary, giving you looks that you swore you could match actual expressions to. You grinned and released the tension in your muscles. He could be very animated when he wanted to. You loved it.

You set the bowl down on your side table once you’d emptied its contents, you and Din having watched three episodes at that point. He paused the show when the third one ended and pointed towards your table.

“There’s some medicine next to your water bottle. It’ll help with your head.”

You gulped it down along with another tiny green bottle that Din had set there for you. You settled back down with a full stomach, a sigh escaping your lips.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Better,” you said as you smiled at him. “Thanks to your expert care.”

He chuckled.

“I’m glad.”

He lifted his hand, keeping it still in the air for a moment before placing it on your thigh.

“I… I was worried.”

Your heart swelled at the crack in his voice. He ran his thumb back and forth on your leg. When you looked up at him, his gaze was fixed on his hand.

“I’m sorry to have worried you, Din. I promise I’ll be okay.”

“I know,” he said, looking up. “You’ll be just fine.”

You smiled. A pleasant silence cloaked you both for a moment before you heard a faint beep.

“Oh-” Din breathed as he pressed the side button on his helmet.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

“Yes, Fett’s just updating me on Grogu.”

“Ah,” you started, “how is he?”

“He was worried about you, too. Made sure to tell him that you’d be okay before I left.”

“Aw, that angel,” you whispered as your heart squeezed.

“He wanted to come along, you know. Almost stowed away in my bag.”

You threw your head back and laughed. The image of Din putting on his bag and then opening it to see why it was extra heavy, only to see Grogu’s little pleading face poking out filled you with joy.

“That’s so sweet,” you said when you caught your breath. “I’m sorry to be worrying everyone so much.”

He shrugged.

“That just means we care.”

You smiled.

The two of you jumped into conversation after that, talking more about Grogu and the rest of Din’s little family. He told you more about how they all met and stayed together after Din’s ship was destroyed — what you now realized was the ‘Crest’ in Grogu’s family drawing — and Grogu went off with the Jedi, and then how they decided to continue raising him after he came back.

He told you about having to take an important pit stop on Mandalore before that because he’d wound up with the darksaber. The very same darksaber that gave him claim over the Mandalorian throne. How in the hell did that happen, you asked in utter disbelief. He told you about his face-off with Moff Gideon, and how he’d tried to ditch the glowing sword shortly after getting it.

“The only way they’d let me out of it is if I got publicly challenged and defeated. Bo Katan, the woman who wanted it, insisted the people of Mandalore witness my royal ass-kicking.”

You laughed.

“What even is your life?” you teased.

“A mess,” he deadpanned. You laughed harder.

~~~

Time checked out as the conversation went on. You were enthralled by Din’s tales, no matter how much he tried to play them down. You shared a few of your stories as well. The hours passed you both by, the sun slowly disappearing from the sky and bathing your room with its glowing farewell.

When the night arrived, Din got up to turn the lights on. That’s when reality returned to your mind.

“I don’t know how long you were planning to stay, I know it’s getting late. Do you need to head home?”

Your voice was hesitant. Your health aside, you just didn’t want Din to leave. The idea of being alone in your house after today was almost painful.

He returned to the bed and sat on the edge, right next to your legs.

“I told Fett and Fennec I’d be here for as long as you need me. They’re fully prepared to look after Grogu for however long that is.”

He took your hand in his.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine,” you answered, “I’m still feeling some of it but it’s not as bad as it was earlier.”

“Good,” he said.

The two of you looked at each other for a moment. You weren’t sure what to say next. He probably wouldn’t feel comfortable spending the night, you thought. Plus, he wouldn’t be able to take off his helmet to sleep if he did that.

“I understand if you’d prefer I didn’t stay, but you might relapse in the night.”

Your brow shot up.

“You- you’d be okay with staying?”

“Of course,” he said, squeezing your hand. “LIke I said, I’ll be here for as long as you need. If you’re comfortable with that.”

“I was just worried about you,” you said. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said with a little laugh.

“If you want to sleep without the helmet, you’re welcome to the guest room. I want you to be able to rest well.”

“I don’t think I would if I couldn’t be here in case something happens,” he said slowly. “But I will do that if you’d prefer it.”

You shook your head with a smile.

“Do you want to wear something more comfortable? I might have something in my closet-”

“It’s okay,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I have some clothes. How about this, I’ll go change while you wash up and we’ll meet back here?”

You nodded. Din helped you stand before taking your dishes downstairs. You walked over to the bathroom and took care of your nightly routine. You looked in the mirror. Your hair flopped about, frizzy and unkempt since you didn’t brush it after showering. Your face was still a little pale, and your clothes hung loose on your frame. Not the way you imagined spending a night with this man for the first time, but you were comforted with his presence all the same. You took a deep breath and headed back to the bedroom, grateful that you were too tired to overthink any of this.

You settled back in your bed. When you heard Din enter the room you turned to the door with a smile, which was quickly replaced with parted lips.

He had changed into a pair of sweats and a zip-up jacket that was half open, leaving his neck exposed to you. Heat rushed to your face; this was more skin than you’d ever seen from him.

He made his way over to the other side of your bed, asking silent permission before settling down beside you. You tried to not let your eyes linger on his collar bone peeking out from the neckline of his shirt. Especially as it flexed when he moved.

As per usual, you failed. You bit your lip and took a deep breath.

“I don’t know if you want this, but there is one little thing we’ve forgotten about.”

Din’s tone was deep. It sent a shiver down your spine. You furrowed your brow, unsure of what he was referring to. You ignored the directions your mind wanted to go in, quietly clearing your throat.

“And what’s that?”

Din kept his visor locked on you as he reached behind him, ducking down to fetch something off the ground next to the bed. He resurfaced with the box of cookies. The sight of it made you gasp.

“Oh yeah, I forgot about those!”

He chuckled.

“You’re probably okay to have a couple. But be careful.”

You nodded and Din opened up the box, pulling out the tray that held the sugary disks within. You grinned as you took one out and ate a bite, relishing the sweet sensation that took over your mouth.

“Good?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled with a nod. Din chuckled before taking out a cookie for himself and setting the tray between you both.

You kept your gaze fixed on your lap when you heard the familiar hiss of his helmet. The gesture filled you with warmth rather than anxiety after your earlier discussion. You smiled and pulled out a second cookie.

“What made you pick these out?” you asked.

“Hard to say,” he replied as he also reached for a second cookie. “I was looking around in the store and these just looked good.”

The clarity of his voice was a bit jarring. It was soothing to your ears. Though you were surprised; all this time you thought the modulator roughed up his voice, but the raspy undertone was still evident outside of it. You chanced a glance in his direction. Familiar pink lips parted to make way for a set of strong teeth to bite into the cookie, a small glimmer of tongue poking out to lick away a crumb. You looked away, face hot once more.

“Well, you’ve got good- good taste.”

You downed the cookie, stuffing it in your mouth to keep from stumbling over yourself again. You declined a third one when offered, causing Din to put them away and set the box aside. You took a sip of your water before settling deeper into your bed.

“I should probably sleep propped up tonight, yeah?” you asked.

Din nodded.

“Probably best. Here, sit up for a second-”

You did as he asked and he leaned over to help adjust your pillows, fluffing a couple of them up before nodding at you to lay back down. It was the perfect position. You looked at him with a smile.

“Thank you, Din. Not just for this, but for everything today,” you paused and let out a sigh. Your voice grew groggy as fatigue settled in.

“I’d probably be in much worse condition if you weren’t here.”

He tilted his head, a hand coming to rest on your head.

“Thank you for letting me help.”

Your smile grew as you took a deep breath, your heavy eyes staring into the vast abyss of Din’s visor. You looked for where his eyes were resting behind their black shield.

You wanted to know what color they were.

You covered your mouth as you yawned, stretching your body out for a second before snuggling deeper into your position. You pulled Din’s cape up over your chest before pulling your blankets over it.

“I’ll be here if you need anything, okay?” Din whispered, leaning in closer to you.

You nodded, nuzzling your head into his hand.

“Good night, Din.”

“Sweet dreams… Miss.”

~~~

Din kept his hand in place until he was certain you’d fallen asleep. As your breaths grew deeper and your eyes ceased their squinting, he stroked the skin of your hairline with his thumb before slowly removing his hand and sitting up.

He let out a sigh, a weight leaving his shoulders at the sight of your peaceful face. He leaned back until his helmet thumped against your headboard and took a deep breath. Worry had plagued his mind long before Gila told him you were sick. That information only made it more intense. But what mattered was that you were okay now, in every sense.

He’d make sure of it.

It was strange; the only other being to make him worry this much was Grogu. It had been that way for so long. And then out of nowhere, you came along and changed everything. Din tried to figure out when you had crept past his walls and into his heart, but he couldn’t. It was almost as if you were always there.

He played through the memories of the day: the moment he first saw your face he’d almost dropped all the groceries. You looked so fragile, as if the slightest gust of wind would just carry you away. He wanted nothing more than to hold you. He remembered your talk on the couch, how shocked he was to hear how you felt about yourself. How could someone like you not see what he sees?

That was another thing — Din wasn't very good with words. He shocked himself with how he spoke to you in that moment. Something about the situation inspired those words to flow, and it had all been so natural.

Adoring you was so natural. He loved it.

He recalled carrying you up the stairs; the small weight of your head in the crook of his neck… it felt so right. As if your embrace was the puzzle piece he didn’t know he was missing. He didn’t want to let you go.

His thoughts continued to wander, thinking back to past moments he spent with you. Moments spent hearing about you when Grogu would tell him about his day at school. Moments of a joy he didn’t know was possible when the two of you would talk, or explore the night sky. Moments of annoyance when Fett and Fennec would point out how obvious his feelings were.

But they were right.

He wouldn’t be this open with you if it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t be doting on you this much if it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t be considering the current thoughts in his mind if it wasn’t true.

What your face would look like… if he were looking at you with his own eyes.

Din leaned up and shifted his position to face you. Your chest rose and fell with each breath you took, your face tranquil. He wondered what you might be dreaming about. He smiled under the helmet. Maybe you were running around with your students like you did at the zoo and at Grogu’s birthday party. Maybe you were beating up drunk assholes. Maybe you were holding Grogu in your arms.

Maybe Din was holding you both in his, like he did in his own dreams.

He shook the image away. Wishful thinking at best, he thought to himself. But it didn’t stop the desire he had. Din closed his eyes and gathered his bravery. He brought his hands up to his helmet. The seal hissed as he lifted it off and placed it in his lap. After another breath, he opened his eyes. All at once, the air left his lungs.

He already thought you were stunning, but… He’d truly been missing out.

Your features were so much clearer, so much more defined. Your skin was soft, that much he knew by then, but now he could see that. And he could see how your lashes curtained over your cheeks, how your hair cascaded over the pillows, how your adorable nose twitched every now and then as you slept. The natural palette of your existence was unlike any set of colors he’d ever seen before. It was definitely preferable to the blue tint his helmet placed on the world. Tears teased their presence behind Din’s eyes as a smile stretched across his face.

Damn… he wanted to see your eyes. Wanted to look into them with his own.

And damn, did he want to kiss you.

But not like this.

Your guard had been lower today, the filter he suspected you’d been keeping around him essentially gone with your strength. He didn’t want to take advantage of that. No, if he was ever so lucky as to kiss you, you’d both be involved.

Instead he set his helmet to the side and leaned down, cheeks growing warm when he stopped just above you. He took in the expression on your face before closing his eyes and gently pressing his forehead against yours. He took in a sharp breath through his nose. Every muscle in his face clenched together. His eyes squeezed more tightly shut as he took in the sensation of his bare skin touching yours. It was the most minimal of contact, but it still sent his mind spinning.

He lifted his head and slowly opened his eyes to see you, expression unchanged aside from a small smile pulling at your lips. Din grinned at the sight, and said the words he'd wanted to say as you fell asleep:

“Sweet dreams, my dear.”

***

taglist: @dincrypt @anrimdjarin @kodye1018 @persie33 @janebby @allmahfeels @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @onomatopoetic-aesthetic @queen-since-97 @tobealostwanderer @darlingotaku @fangirlalexia @justdrawings101 @bluemacaron @onebrownoneblue @440mxs-wife @what-iwish-you-knew

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x f! reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando x you #grogu #slow burn #of love and time #fluff #my writing

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 3 years

Text

Fever Dream

(Written for @sicktember prompt #1 - Fever! I finished it in time for the first but didn't have the energy to edit.)

Angels didn’t get sick, precisely

They didn’t have bodies that were, strictly speaking, physical, and therefore couldn’t harbor any of the illnesses that plagued mankind and other earthly creatures.

An angel could, however, burn through enough of his own grace that his corporation began to malfunction.

He would then, as it were, fall ill.

This happened to Aziraphale far more often than to other angels.

A weak constitution was the general explanation; too much time mucking about on the strange old planet, not enough time bathing in the glorious healing light of the celestial sphere.

When he was down on Earth, he was always prying, poking, trying new things, many of which had never been approved, could have any manner of ill effects. He knew he should show some proper restraint, withdraw a bit more from the world, but he couldn’t help himself.

And when he did return to huddle miserably in a recovery ward, waiting for the chills to pass and his temperature to stabilize, Gabriel would always visit, dropping broad hints about the pressures of fieldwork and the under appreciated glory of a solid administrative career. Offering all kinds of advice as to what, exactly, a proper angel would cut out of his life if he wished to better focus on his ordained duties.

And so, when the symptoms next came upon him—muscle aches, irritability, sweat and chills until he didn’t know if he was hot or cold—Aziraphale decided to wait it out on Earth. It would only take a few days to recover and, anyway, he had business to attend to. Important business that could not wait.

“Angel, are you sure you’re alright?” Crowley demanded, a glint of gold just visible between black lenses and furrowed brow.

“Yes, I’m perf—” he turned his head to cough lightly, but an odd spasm came over his throat, transforming it into something deep and hacking that left his ribs aching and his brow dripping with sweat. “…tickety-boo,” he muttered, turning back to his mug.

“Keep it down,” hissed the demon, glancing around the common room of the inn. Perhaps one or two people had glanced over, but nothing out of the ordinary. “People will think you have the plague.” The last two words he barely mouthed.

“My dear fellow, do be serious. I have hardly any symptoms of the plague.” Only the last part sounded more like sybtobs otha blayyyg.

He cleared his throat and tried to sniff, which started a complicated chain reaction that ended with a mouthful of what he hoped was spit.

As Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with alarm, Crowley quickly pulled out a deep red handkerchief, which the angel gratefully spat into. Unsure what to do next, Aziraphale folded it over and offered it back, but Crowley leaned away, face contorted in horror.

“Oh, ah… thank you, then?” He took a quick glance inside and immediately wished he hadn’t, grimacing at the color of what his body had produced.

“Just… just eat your soup,” Crowley muttered, waving a hand at the bowl he’d been toying with until it was hardly above room temperature.

Aziraphale had ordered it thinking a bit of warmth would be lovely, as he’d been shivering fit for midwinter morning. But after one mouthful, he’d found himself sweating, tugging at his collar to relieve some of the heat. Now he could feel the shivers coming on again, but he couldn’t warm it back up. Until the illness passed, any miracles would just make it worse.

“Right,” Crowley said as Aziraphale poked at something that might have been a parsnip. “I’m going to be out of town for the next few weeks. Temptations all up and down the continent. Might take the rest of the season. Unless…” Using that lilting voice that suggested a coin flip might be imminent.

“Mmmh.” Aziraphale looked mournfully into his beer, finally hazarding another sip. The taste of hops struck him at the back of the throat and he quickly expelled the rest back into the mug. “Sorry, m’dear. Not this time. I got…” he waved his hand, waiting for the rest of the words. They didn’t appear to be forthcoming. “Things,” he finally said. “In the city. Until at least…” He rubbed his forehead, but it was hard to think when it was so cold. He pulled his heavy coat back on, bundling up.

“Oh, well. Things. Obviously can’t take you away from things.” Aziraphale nodded miserably, trying to focus on his bowl. “Angel, look,” and as Crowley leaned close, there was something new in his voice, something that sounded rather like concern. “You sure you’re alright? I mean, there’s nothing… nobody…”

Aziraphale blinked, his eyes feeling… sticky. What was Crowley getting at? He should really be more direct, clever Serpent, it was hard enough to think in all this heat. He struggled out of his coat, dabbing uselessly at the sweat on his forehead.

“Oh for Satan’s—are you cursed?” He hissed the last word even softer than he’d said plague.

“No,” the angel said, resting his head on his hand until his neck recovered enough strength to hold it up again. “M’not. S’just… things!”

In his attempt to gesture with both hands, Aziraphale forgot one was already occupied and very nearly wound up face-first in the soup.

“Azir—!” Crowley rounded the table in an instant, tugging him upright again. “What has come over you?”

“S’rry. People staring? S’not… not… proper.”

“Angel, you’re—you’re burning up!”

“Not. S’cold.” Then an icy hand touched his forehead and cheek, and Aziraphale groaned, trying to pull away.

“What the Heaven is going on?”

“Toldya. Things. Illness. From… from…” he tried to gesture with one arm, but it weighed too much to lift. “Being a… bad angel…”

A heavy sigh. “C’mere, you.” Crowley hauled him to his feet.

Aziraphale was pleased to find he could stand, just that his spinning head and aching limbs made it unpleasant. He couldn’t remember where he was supposed to go, but there was something solid nearby to lean on and a hand on his waist, guiding him forward.

It wasn’t until they reached the stairs that he realized something wasn’t right. “Crowley! This is—we—we can’t—where—what are you—”

“I’ve got a room upstairs.”

Aziraphale squinted dimly towards the upper floor. “Yes…?”

“Yes. And you, Angel, are in need of a bed.”

But.

But it was improper! Scandalous, even, talking of rooms, and beds, or rooms andbeds, or any combination thereof, particularly in the singular form. What if someone saw? An angel and a demon, bad enough, but two allegedly respectable gentlemen?

Or, wait, was one of them currently presenting as a woman? Likely not Aziraphale, though he sometimes lost track, but Crowley, well, that could also be hard to tell, but he seemed to have a good amount of jewelry and no facial hair, so there was a chance.

Still, male or female, angel or human, there would be rumor, gossip, talk about the town! It would get back to Heaven! This was worse than being thought weak and improper, Gabriel would think him some sort of reprobate!

Crowley paused, one hand on a door. “This is me. Um. I’ll go back down if it makes you feel better.”

What? And have all the rumor with none of the satisfaction? The shame of spending a night in a demon’s bed without the pleasures—oh, he knew what Crowley got up to. One of the Seven Sins that was, and Aziraphale would not be tempted into joining. No, not he!

“Right. Nh. Going to help you out of some of these layers, then I’ll go.”

Go? Go?After Aziraphale had come all this way, come so very close? No, he’d spent centuries imagining how it would be, and he’d never be truly satisfied until he had a reality to compare it to. Aziraphale very much wanted to know what Crowley looked like while he slept.

Yes, Crowley, Sloth is one of the Seven Sins, a demon should know these things.

And while Aziraphale had the general idea clear enough, he still had questions. Did Crowley snore, or did he breathe softly? He certainly would sleep on his side, curled up, but how heavy would his head be, pillowed on Aziraphale’s chest? If they talked, would his words become slurred as he drifted off, or would he listen quietly while Aziraphale spoke, running his fingers through bright red hair?

Come to that, how did his hair feel, or his cheek, or his lips? Aziraphale hadn’t thought much about lips, generally, but now that Crowley was always hiding his eyes, well, they had become the focus of his face, and that presented fascinating possibilities, ones that Gabriel certainly wouldn’t approve of, but he’d always been too curious for his own good. And really, what was a harmless little experiment between—

Oh, good Lord, was Aziraphale talking out loud?

He clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horror.

But Crowley chuckled, resting a hand on his shoulder; in only his undershirt, he could feel it so clearly—ice cold, but not unpleasantly so. “Your secrets are safe, Angel. Lay down.”

Too embarrassed to object, Aziraphale crawled into the bed and let Crowley pull a blanket over him. “Keep that on, yeah?”

“S’hot,” the angel whined. His voice sounded very odd, slurred, weak. Perhaps that meant Crowley hadn’t understood his rambling before.

“I know. Just try.” Something cool and damp wiped his face and Aziraphale sighed with relief. “Has this happened before?”

“Mmmh. Over an’over an’over.” In Heaven, they would assign him a recovery room, to sit alone and reflect on what he’d done to earn himself the illness, on what he could do to better serve in the future. Gabriel always had good suggestions.

The being alone. That was the worst part. Hated that.

Crowley was talking. Something would be right there, beside the bed. That was probably important, but the angel was already asleep.

In Aziraphale’s dream, Gabriel told him over and over that he’d failed again, that this was his own fault, that he was a terrible angel who didn’t deserve… something.

Possibly anything.Again and again, the Archangel took everything he valued—his books, his sweets, his day at the theater, the beauty of the sunrise, the way humans smiled at each other after many days apart, and something else, something far more important, but the name was forbidden—

Again, something cool pressed to his forehead, his chest. Fingers raked through his hair, helping the sweat to evaporate. “See?” A voice murmured. “Better already.” But everything was getting grey and distant again.

Now Aziraphale was in a room, an enormous room, empty but somehow still cluttered. All the things he loved were here, hidden, and Gabriel ordered him to find them all or they’d be destroyed. He searched frantically, among endless piles of brown packages, and found most of them—books and smiles and sunrises—mixed in with kettles, mittens and (for some reason) cat whiskers. But the last thing, the final thing, the important thing was still missing, and the room grew hotter and hotter—

“Try this now.” Something supported Aziraphale’s back as he sat up, leaning against… a thing… a thing that meant warmth and safety. A mug pressed to his lips. He wasn’t sure what he drank, but it felt good. “Now let’s get you settled again.”

He didn’t go down easily, though, reaching and writhing, somehow grasping the safe thing, pulling it close. If he let it get away, Gabriel would destroy it.

“I see. Alright. You stay there.” Fingers through his hair again, more resting lightly on his shoulder. “I got you. Nothing’s going to—”

Reality tumbled away and he was falling, possibly Falling, the voices of Gabriel and Michael and Uriel all around him, insulting him, taunting him, asking him why he hadn’t filed form HX-3 in triplicate. He clung desperately to the thing he needed as the temperature rose, more voices joining in, every voice. The Hellfire licked at him, even as he trembled and shook uncontrollably. This was the end, he would die here, he’d never said—

“Crowley!” He called, desperate. “Crowley don’t—don’t leave me!”

The thing he held shifted, and now there were arms wrapped around him, protecting him. “There we are. Not going to leave.”

It was too hot to bear, but still he burrowed closer. “Crowley, please. I can’t—I—I need you!”

“Not going anywhere, Angel. Not ever.”

“Crowley!” The Hellfire burst within him, a flash of heat up and down his body, his limbs, his soul—

And then he was… exhausted.

The shaking faded, the heat and cold gone, though he still found himself covered in sweat. Nothing remained but a strange sense of calm.

Still clinging to his lifeline, Aziraphale drifted off into a proper restful sleep.

He opened his eyes to find the late evening sun slanting through an open window. The blanket was largely twisted around his legs and the bed below him was oddly hard and lumpy, even if it was nice—

“You’re looking better.”

Aziraphale scrambled up in horror to find that the thing he’d been laying on—clinging to for dear life—was six feet of rumpled, uncomfortable-looking demon. A demon he vaguely recalled saying some very revealing things to…

“Oh, good Lord.” Aziraphale’s face burned again, but not from fever. He covered, his eyes turning away. “Crowley—you—you—how—”

“Gah! M’sorry!” He heard Crowley push himself upright, sliding away. “I—I—I shouldn’t have—didn’t mean—”

No of course not. It wasn’t as though Crowley shared his strange desires, his secret obsessions, his awful curiosity. Crowley was a—a perfectly normal demon who would have no interest in prolonged contact, particularly with a most clingy, damaged angel…

“What must you think of me?” he moaned.

“Stupid, stupid demon,” Crowley grumbled. “I saw you panicking but I didn’t know—shouldn’t have assumed—”

“What is wrong with me?”

“Crossed a line, and—and now look—”

“I’m a terrible, foolish, needy…”

“Didn’t want to take advantage—I’m sorry!”

“I’m sorry! Wait…” That wasn’t right. Aziraphale cautiously lowered his hands to see Crowley sitting frozen with the glasses halfway to his face. “You’re sorry?”

“Mnh. Yeah. Cuz… cuz I’m the one who…” his eyes dropped. “You seemed upset. Scared. I just… I made it worse, didn’t I? Shoulda known you wouldn’t want…”

“But…” Aziraphale swallowed, trying to recall anything clearly. “I… I seem to remember… propositioning you. Repeatedly.”

Crowley’s face turned red, but he smiled. Not his confident swaggering smirk, but something awkward and genuine that Aziraphale hadn’t seen since Eden. “Not… repeatedly. N’I’d hardly call it… besides it was… you know. But!” His fingers twisted on the metal frames of his glasses. “But, look—I don’t—you aren’t responsible for—for the things you say when you’re sick, ‘specially things you don’t mean—and I—s’my responsibility not to—” He ducked his head even further. “Just wanted to help. Shouldn’t have assumed… that you meant… what I wanted…”

“What…” Aziraphale reached out but couldn’t quite touch him. “What you want?”

“Um.” Golden eyes flicked up. “You’re… not the only one who wondered about… the sleeping stuff. Who doesn’t like to be… alone.” He cleared his throat. “Or, at least, I thought—”

“I believe I told you I needed you.” His hand hovered over Crowley’s shoulder. “I meant that. Precisely the way you took it. I—I meant most of it.”

Crowley’s eyes blinked, very slowly.

And the next moment, they were swept into each other’s arms, Aziraphale once again clinging to his friend like a lifeline. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” he managed.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale pressed closer. “Thank you for staying.”

When they broke apart, Crowley was as bright red as Aziraphale had felt at the height of his fever, glasses back in place, staring fixedly at his own legs. “So. Mmmmh. Now what?”

Aziraphale considered that question more carefully than he’d ever considered anything.

“I think… I’m recovering…”

“S’good.” Crowley shifted as if to stand.

“…but still very tired. I should probably rest another night?”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah. Do you—I can go?”

“Do you have somewhere to be?” His heart started to fall, until Crowley shrugged.

“I do, but… not urgently.”

“If you have the time there’s… there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Well. Big fan of knowledge, me.”

Aziraphale carefully lay down again, keeping his arms wide. A moment later, Crowley took a deep breath, set aside his glasses and joined him.

It turned out that Crowley’s head on his chest was the perfect weight. That he did indeed curl up, though in the most convoluted ways. That in his sleep, Crowley’s breaths were gentle and soft, much like his hair, and he tried very much to keep talking on the edge of consciousness even when he didn’t have much to say.

As for the kissing, well—certain observations did not need to be made public.

(AO3 link later today...)

#good omens #good omens fanfic #sicktember #ineffable husbands #hurt comfort #sick aziraphale #cuddles #fever #protective crowley #soft crowley #there was only one bed #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale and crowley #my writing #prompt challenge

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

A Surprise to be Sure

Pairing: Geralt/Fem!Reader

Words: 5761

Summary: You meet Geralt and Jaskier on the road and have a lovely little adventure in the kingdom of Temeria.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, TW mentions of rape, SMUT, 18+

A/N: It’s here y’all, my b-day Geralt fic! I’m really happy with how this turned out and could honestly have published it without the smut, that’s how much I love this fic. It is definitely going to be part of a series so I hope you all enjoy! (PS I love writing Jaskier way too much and could honestly just do a full series of him having random misadventures all over the continent!) I’m tagging @navybrat817 because I know she loves some Henry Cavill

Jaskier had been belting the Fishmonger’s Daughter for the past 30 minutes, and Geralt was ready to murder him.

“Must you insist on shouting our position to every living creature in a 5 mile radius?” He hissed at the bard.

“List, my grumpy, hoar-headed friend. I need to be sure my voice is in top form if I’m performing at a royal ball. Now, you’ll feel better if you sing with me, Oooh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger!”

“I’m going to feed you that damn lute before we reach the castle if you don’t shut up. I can’t listen to this for three days.” The Witcher growled under his breath. He couldn’t figure out why he had agreed to accompany the irritating man on his journey, but the man always managed to convince him to go along with his stupid plans.

“Now, Geralt. You know you secretly love my singing. After all, how many jobs has that little song of mine rustled up for you, eh? Stop being so grouchy.”

He gave him a grunt. “Fine, can you at least sing something else?”

“Ah, but of course, my large, angry friend. Eh hem, You think you’re safe, without a care…”

“Gods, not that one.”

“Well, there’s no pleasing you is there. Ahh, what’s that noise?”

A feminine shriek split the air, causing a flock of birds to take flight only a few feet from the pair of riders. Roach of course didn’t mind, but Jaskier’s mount almost threw him, causing Geralt to smile.

“Gods, see, this is why I hate travelling on these creatures. Give me a nice coach ride any time. Come Geralt, let us see what fair maiden is in need of our assistance.”

“Our assistance?”

“Well, your assistance. C’mon Geralt, a damsel in distress, this is the perfect material for a new song.”

Geralt followed the idiot as he rode towards the sounds of distress, determined to keep him from getting himself killed. He didn’t really like getting involved in petty issues of the realms but knew that Jaskier lived for these tiny adventures.

They came upon you, surrounded by five men in soiled armor. Your cart had a broken wheel and was sinking into the snow and mud. One of the men had you pinned in the back of the cart by your neck as he buried his other hand in your skirts. The other men jeered at you as they kept their watch.

“Look Geralt, a fair maid waiting to be rescued, what could make for a better song? Ho there fellows, stop your raping or you’ll have to deal with my cantankerous companion here.”

“Move along, bard this doesn’t concern you.” One of the soldiers growled at Jaskier before spitting to the side. “Or, wait your turn and we’ll let you and your pal have her when we’re done.”

“Ah, Geralt, I’ll let you take care of them. Make sure to draw it out, a long fight always makes for a better song.”

“Oh, fuck this.” You hissed, pulling out the stiletto you had hidden in your skirts and gutting the man who was restraining you.

Jaskier turned his head and vomited as the man’s intestines seeped out of him and he crumbled to the forest floor. You flung your cloak off your shoulders as you drew the obscenely large longsword you had concealed beneath its folds and chopped off the hand of the next soldier who came charging at you before plunging it into his chest.

“I don’t know, bard. Seems like the maid has things under control.” Geralt grinned at his companion once he had finished emptying his stomach.

You wrenched the blade free as the two unhorsed soldiers rushed you. One of them tossed his own dagger at you and you used your sword to whip it back at him, catching him in the throat. You brought up your dagger and crossed the blades you were holding to catch the sword of your fourth opponent. You managed to loop the dagger under his hilt and wrenched the sword from his grasp as you let the momentum from his attack carry you the two of you backwards, flipping him over your head until you were straddling his chest. You gave him a small smirk as your drove your dagger through his eye.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” Jaskier asked as he watched the bloody show with abject horror painted on his face.

“What would you suggest bard? The woman seems to be able to handle herself, and I can’t say these soldiers seem particularly deserving of assistance.”

The final soldier had dismounted and was now striding towards you, twirling his sword around like an idiot peacock. You scowled at him before pulling a massive crossbow from beneath the packages in your cart and shooting him in the shoulder.

He went down with a soft grunt and you strutted over to him, crossbow slung over your shoulder and dagger twirling through your fingers. You tutted at him like you were chiding a naughty schoolboy.

“Oh, Abbett, what did you do with the money? I certainly hope you have it on you. I don’t feel like trekking through this frozen forest digging for it.”

“You cunt.” The man spat at you. “We fought those bloody Nilfgaardians to keep these farmers safe and warm. The least they can do to thank us is give up a few bloody coins and their daughters.”

You shot him again in the leg and he let out a scream.

“One more time, Abbett, the money? I can’t give those poor girls their maidenhoods again but maybe their families can offer a dowry to make them good matches.”

“Argh, bitch! It’s in the saddlebags.”

“Excellent! See, not so fucking difficult, and you saved me the nasty task of gelding you!” You took a few steps forward and shot him through the eye as you went to examine the horse and find the stolen coins.

“Ahem, hello, madam! I am Jaskier the Bard and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Would you join us on our journey to the capital of Temeria? You seem like a lass with stories to tell and I’m just the fellow to put them to song.”

“Jaskier, shut the fuck up.” Geralt hissed at him.

You whipped around to the two of them and pointed your crossbow at the Witcher. “Fuck, I almost forgot about you two. Well, you’ve given me a bit of a conundrum boys. I was counting on there not being any witnesses here. These vagabonds are still wearing the king’s colors after all, and we’re close enough to the capital that that could prove to be a problem for me.” You had started to unfasten the bodice of the gown you were wearing, desperate to get out of the confining layers of cloth that had comprised your disguise. You revealed an outfit of bleached leather and furs that clung to your body.

“Oops.” Jaskier murmured, giving Geralt a sheepish grin as he raised his hands in supplication. “Geralt, friend, maybe you can talk to our new companion.”

“Right, listen, we don’t care that you just slaughtered five of the king’s soldiers, though I’m sure upon closer inspection they’ll be shown to be deserters. And as we have no desire to bring any trouble down on you, we’ll just be on our way.”

“Wait,” You called after them, tossing the rags of your gown onto the abandoned cart as you saddled your horse. “If you’re heading towards the capital, I’ll join you. I have some deliveries to make before I get out of this god-forsaken country, and that way I can keep an eye on you.” You gave them a grin as you rode up the hill to join them. “I can think of worse company than a bard and a Witcher.”

Jaskier shot a grin back at you as you joined them. “Ah, finally someone who will appreciate my talents. Tell me… um..”

“Y/N”

“Y/N, lovely, do you have any requests?”

Geralt groaned internally at the thought of being stuck with two singing idiots for the journey but was cut short by the sound of multiple bows being drawn.

“Fuck.”

“That’s far enough you three.” A captain in shining armor commanded as you came into view of a mounted regiment of king’s soldiers, accompanied by about 100 footmen who all had arrows trained on you. “What do you know about several groups of dead king’s men that have been found in these woods.”

Geralt shot you a look of reproach over his shoulder as you pointedly avoided making eye contact, examining your fingernails like they were the most interesting thing on the continent.

“There’s another group of dead soldiers in the clearing back there, captain. Looks like we’ve found our culprits.”

“Oh, just wait a minute. My grouchy friend and I were just passing through when we came upon this lovely woman being set upon by these supposed kingsmen. Granted, we considered dispatching them ourselves but our fair companion had things well in hand. Seems like she was doing your jobs for you.”

You and Geralt shared a groan. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

The captain gave a snort of derision. “You want us to believe this pretty thing has been besting the king’s chosen troops on her own for months? Take their weapons and restrain the Witcher and the woman. The bard can sing us some songs to pass the time as we travel. We’ll save this for the king to sort out.”

You gave a heavy sigh and started handing over your blades. Jaskier’s eyes started to bulge as you continued pulling smaller and smaller knives out of an increasingly absurd number of hiding places, until there was an impressive pile in front of the soldier who had been tasked with collecting your weapons.

Geralt was less forthcoming in turning over his weapons and didn’t really start until a spear prodded him in the back. He was gazing at Renfri’s blade when the captain lost his patience, and the butt of the spear whipped across the back of his head, knocking him cold.

“Put his blades with the rest of it.”

Geralt woke up with his face buried in your hair and let out a groan at the throbbing in his skull.

“What the fuck?” He lifted his head, squinting against the sun reflecting off the new fallen snow.

“Good morning, Witcher. Apparently this type of restraint has been proven to limit the ability of the restrained to extricate themselves from their bindings. You missed a fascinating lecture on it as they were tying us up.”

The two of you were bound face to face on the saddle of your massive black courser. Your arms and legs tangled around each other and wrapped in an intricate series of knots. He started trying to wrench himself free, but only succeeded in bringing you even closer to him as he let out a grunt of frustration.

“Look at the two of you, so cozy.” Jaskier rode up with a grin on his face, strumming his lute. “Do not worry yourselves, my violent friends. I am currently working on a plan to extricate the two of you from this predicament. I have the ear of the captain.”

“Are you going to annoy him to death Jaskier? Maybe if you sing that damn abortion song enough times, he’ll release us just to be rid of you.”

“You wound me, Geralt. The name of that tune is “You Think You’re Safe” and you’ll be happy to know that the captain is enamored of my talents and has asked me to regale him and his officers at their meal tonight.”

“Ah, good for you Jaskier. Make sure to sing the ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ I hear that’s a favorite of the troops.” You smiled at him, throwing him a wink.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, Y/N! See Geralt, it isn’t so hard to appreciate what I bring to the table. Thank you for your advice, sweet lady, I will be sure to take heed!” He rode off, humming to himself as he tuned his lute.

“Why would you encourage him?” Geralt growled in your ear, still fighting against his bonds.

“Ah, Witcher, you need to relax. I’m sure Jaskier’s plan will work out just fine.”

“The bard is an imbecile, the day I trust myself to any plan of his is the day I resign myself to a slow and painful death.”

“Well, be that as it may, if you don’t stop struggling, we’re going to end up in a very uncomfortable situation.” You said, giving a gasp as another jerk of your bonds brought you indecently close.

“Fuck.” He let out in a hiss, resigning himself to waiting for a better opportunity as a lock of your hair blew into his face, smelling of pine and turned earth “I don’t suppose you have any sort of plan of escape, since it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”

“Geralt, I do apologize that you have ended up in my mess. I’m so sorry that the war with Nilfgaard has caused unprecedented levels of desertion, and that the cowards that have runoff have been terrorizing and robbing the smallfolk. And I’m sorry that the king failed to listen to the pleas of his people, who had to pool together the last of their coin to contract me to come in and relieve them of their problems. But yes, this mess is entirely of my own making, and nothing to do with the colossal mismanagement of the realm of Temeria.”

“Hmmph.” He grunted into your hair. “So how are you getting us out of this mess?”

You gave him a snort. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours Witcher, something will work out.”

“Alright, dismount.” One of the lieutenants ordered, leering at the two of you. “Hope you two have enjoyed today’s ride. I hear they’re already constructing a gibbet for you in Vizima.”

“I see the royal council has decided to do away with even the minimal farce of a trial then.”

Two soldiers had started to undo the maze of knots binding you and the Witcher together and you gave a hiss as blood started to flow back into your legs.

“An attack on the king’s army is an attack on the king. No trials for traitors to the crown.”

“You do know that neither of us are citizens of this kingdom?” Geralt asked him. “You can’t betray a monarch you don’t serve.”

“Pssh, a minor inconsistency. The king can’t be seen as soft during wartime.”

“Oh, of course not.” You murmured as the soldiers dragged you off your mount and led you to the prisoners’ tent that had been erected next to the officers’. The same intricate raveling of ropes and knots started again as they bound your upper bodies to the poles in the center of the tent. You could hear the beginnings of revelry in the officers’ pavilion when they left you.

“Well, now what?” Geralt asked you, pulling against the bonds at his wrists.

“Just, have a little patience.” You chided him, leaning against your pole in as relaxed of a pose as you could achieve.

“You did hear that they plan on executing us once they get us back to the capital?”

“No, Geralt, I missed that.” You spat at him as you heard Jaskier start to sing and gave a small smile. “Excellent, let’s hope he leaves the good stuff until they’re well and drunk.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He asked you, still trying to wrench himself free.

“For fucks’ sake, give it a rest. Apparently the royal knot tyers are the only members of this army who haven’t fallen lax in their duties.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Just give it a half hour and we’ll give you a chance to get out all the pent up aggression.”

“So you do have a plan? Any chance you want to let me in on it?”

“I think I’ll leave it for a surprise.”

The two of you sat there listening as the sounds of drunken celebration filled the camp. It only took 20 minutes for the revelry to reach a dull roar, and a smile crept over your face when you heard the first refrains of ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’.

“Ah, Jaskier, perfect timing.” You muttered.

The song started speeding up and spread through the regiment. You heard the soldiers start clapping along and seized your moment, bending your legs and driving your back into the post you were bound to at each clap, starting to shift it out of the ground with each drive of your shoulders.

Geralt finally seized on your idea and joined you in wrenching his post out of the ground. Within a few rounds of the song, they were loosened enough for you to drag them out of their anchors, causing the tent to collapse around you. You slipped your bonds over the ends of the posts and unraveled yourselves. Geralt gave you a look of appreciation as you hefted your post, flung the folds of the fallen tent off yourself and whipped the post around to take out the two guards that had been posted at the entrance.

“Well, let’s find our weapons, shall we?” You said, giving him a grin.

Apparently, your appraisal of the army had been accurate; you ran into minimal resistance as you made your way to the weapons tent and managed to knock out the only sentries you encountered before Geralt had a chance to react.

“Ah, my babies.” You said to yourself as you started resheathing the ridiculous number of knives you had accumulated for yourself, kissing each blade before you returned it to its rightful place.

“How can you possibly be comfortable wearing all of that steel?” Geralt asked you around a grin, watching you tuck a dirk between your breasts and wondering how you managed to not cut yourself.

“I’m a woman traveling the continent alone, Witcher. I’ve found that the element of surprise is my friend, and there’s nothing quite as surprising as an unexpected knife between the ribs.”

He actually laughed at that, strapping one sword to his back and one to his hip as you hefted your crossbow and loaded it with a bolt before heading back out into the snow.

You were met by the surprised faces of a drunken group of soldiers who were wending their way through the tents, arms around each other as the slurred the lyrics to their favorite song. You shot the first through the chest as you drew your longsword over your shoulder and you dropped your crossbow to the ground, slashing the second across the face before they finally regained their composure and sounded the alarm.

Geralt drew his blades and clashed with three of the remaining soldiers as you grappled with the other two. He managed to drive his long sword through one of their chests before the other two had a chance to converge on him and he struggled to drive them apart with his fists to allow himself room to maneuver. One of his opponents went down suddenly with a dagger through his throat and Geralt threw a look your way to see your first opponent down and missing an eye as you drove your knee into the chest of your second opponent, driving him into a post as you brought your sword around and ran it across his throat.

Geralt threw his assailant over his shoulder and rammed his blade through his chest as you let out a shrill whistle and hefted your crossbow as the sound of hoofbeats rose through the camp. Roach and your courser came charging around the bend suddenly and you latched onto your steed’s mane and swung yourself onto his back as Geralt vaulted onto Roach’s. You turned suddenly and led him back towards the officers’ pavilion as drunken soldiers did their best to pursue you.

“We almost forgot the fucking bard!” You grinned at him as you hopped off your horse and slashed through the back of the officers’ tent. You emerged seconds later with a terrified looking Jaskier, who you tossed over the back of your mount like a sack of potatoes before leaping up behind him and kicking your steed to a gallop.

“Either of you want to fill me in on what the fuck is happening?!” Jaskier shrieked as he bounced around.

The two of you ignored him as you rode on. You set a punishing pace through the whole night, not looking back until you crossed the river into the kingdom of Redania as the sun rose and you finally allowed your horses to slow their pace to a walk, dismounting to give them a rest.

“If my lute is damaged, I’ll never forgive you.” Jaskier whined as he inspected his instrument, hobbling along as he tried to adjust after the unceremonious thrashing he had taken during the ride.

“Jaskier, a little thanks should be in order. Y/N and I did save you from a rather nasty execution after all.” Geralt grinned at him as he walked beside you, Roach nuzzling him in the shoulder as he patted her snout.

“I told the two of you, I had the captain’s ear, I would have been able to talk us out of any trouble.”

You gave him a snort as your courser butted his head into yours, begging for his own pats. “Jaskier, you would have been strung up right beside us. Just think though, this little adventure has the makings of a great song, eh? I’ll buy you a nice hot meal and a bath at the inn we’re coming up on.”

“Well, I’d never say no to a bath. How close is this inn?”

“Just over the next hill.”

You arrived within an hour and made arrangements for the horses as Jaskier headed in to arrange rooms and meals for the three of you.

Geralt and you headed into the inn and you grabbed the two of you the largest mugs of beer you could arrange before joining Jaskier at a table and tearing into the trencher of bread.

“So, good news first.” The bard said. “I arranged for nice, hot baths for all three of us, in addition to our meals. The only thing is, they only had two rooms.”

Geralt let out a groan at that. “Fine, bard, I guess the two of us are sharing accommodations for the next few days then.”

“Aah, well. I figured, with you two having grown so close during our little journey, that you wouldn’t mind sharing the much, much larger room whilst I make due with the tiny, lonely room myself that I’ve already had them unload my things into.”

The two of you shot him equally reproachful looks over your mugs of beer as a barmaid arrived to let him know his bath was ready.

“Ah, splendid. Well, you two enjoy your breakfasts. I’m going to take a very long nap after my bath and I’ll see you this afternoon, or maybe even tomorrow.”

A whole roasted chicken arrived and the two of you tore into it without a word, polishing it off quickly as you hadn’t realized how famished you were.

“I’ll arrange for them to bring up the hot water for baths for us.” You told Geralt as you stood up and stretched, downing the last of your beer.

“I’m fine without.” The Witcher grumbled at you.

You gave him a derisive chuckle. “If we’re bedding together for the two days it’ll take for the horses to rest up, you’re bathing yourself at least once, I don’t need to smell everywhere you’ve been in the past month.”

He gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders as he followed you upstairs. It had been a while since he’d spent the night with a woman he wasn’t paying, and there was something about you he found disarming. Endearing, but disarming nonetheless.

“Ah, at least there’s two tubs.” You said gleefully as you entered the room. A group of attendants arrived a moment later, carrying four large buckets of steaming water between them that they emptied into the copper tubs before taking their leave.

You started by pulling off your supple boots and Geralt turned his back as he began to unlace his jerkin. He heard you give a soft laugh behind him. “Are we really going to pretend like neither of us have seen a naked body before, Witcher?”

He whipped around at the amusement in your voice. You had removed your corset and sleeves and were down to nothing but a thin linen tunic on top. He tried not to stare at the shape of your breasts moving beneath the fabric as you worked at unlacing your breeches. You shot him a wicked look through your lashes as you moved your fingers back to unstrap the multiple sheathes that had been hidden beneath your bodice.

He did his best to ignore you as he ripped his jerkin off over his head. He made easy work of his tunic and breeches and sank into the tub while you were still working on undoing the intricate trappings of your hidden arsenal.

“I really don’t see how you can be comfortable in all of that Y/N.” He chided you as you removed the final straps and drew your tunic over your head before shimmying out of your breeches. He did his best to keep his eyes occupied elsewhere as you stepped into your own bath, hissing at the heat.

“Comfort is a matter of individual preference, dear. Oh, that’s wonderful.” You sank into the water with a sigh and dunked your head under before coming back up with a gasp.

“So, you going to tell me how you ended up with a warhorse, enough steel to equip a small band of thieves, and the strength to wield a tentpole like a damn quarterstaff, or is that something I’ll have to guess at?” He asked as he dumped a bucket over his head and ran the water through his hair before shaking it back out and splashing you, making you yelp.

“I think I’ll keep that my little secret for now, Geralt. Maybe if you buy me a few strongales over the next few days I’ll regale you with my tale of woe.” You let out a sigh as you felt your muscles relax. “Maybe I’ll get you to tell me your history as well. I hear the Redanians have a liquor that will light your chest on fire and make you forget the seasons.”

He gave a laugh and settled his head back against the tub. “You think you can outdrink me girl, you’re in for a nasty surprise… fuck.” He hadn’t heard you leave your tub and sat up startled when you crawled into his, sloshing water over the sides.

“Oh, Geralt, you’ll find that I’m full of surprises.” You said before pressing your mouth to his softly and giving a gentle sigh.

He got over his surprise quickly and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you to him fiercely as he growled against your lips.

You gave him a small laugh as you moved your lips down the line of his jaw to his neck, running your teeth along his collarbone before nipping at him softly as your hands moved down the plains of his chest, dipping below the water to take his cock in your grasp. He gave you a satisfying moan as you did so and you began sliding your hand up and down his length slowly as you raised a small bruise on his shoulder with your mouth.

He bucked his hips up into your hand as you increased your pace and you moved your other hand below the water to play with his balls. You leaned against his chest and gazed up at him with heavy lids as you watched him come apart under your ministrations.

He arched his back and gave a heavy moan as he came in your hand and you grinned against his chest as he softened, planting soft kisses along his throat as he came down and his breathing slowed.

He swallowed thickly and grinned at you before scooping his arms underneath you and lifting you out of the tub easily, making you shriek with glee before he dropped you unceremoniously on the large bed and pounced on top of you, nuzzling himself into the skin below your ear as his large hands skimmed down the sides of your torso before coming to rest on your hips and kneading them, raising bruises on your soft skin.

He brought one hand between the two of you and ran his fingers through the soft hair of your mound before rubbing them between your folds, making you arch into him as you let out a thin whine, fluttering your lashes as you gazed at him. He grinned down at you as he inserted two fingers at an agonizingly slow pace and you moaned as he started fucking them into you, curling them against that sweet, spongy spot each time.

He added another finger as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your clean scent as you mewled and whimpered, begging him for more. He started strumming your clit with his thumb and you writhed underneath him, doing your best to grind your cunt into him as his fingers stretched you.

It was almost too much when he added the fourth finger and you wrapped your hands in his silver hair, pressing his face to your neck as you cried silently. He moved his mouth back to yours as he increased his speed and pressure on your tiny bud, moving his tongue softly past your lips and tangling it with yours. You came around him, clenching down on his fingers in your release as all the breath rushed out of you. He felt you go rigid beneath him before you collapsed back against the bed with a sigh.

“You think you’re ready for me sweetheart?” He asked as he kissed your neck, moving his hands up to palm your breasts.

You pulled his head back by his hair and gave him a grin before squeezing his sides with your thighs and rolling until you were on top of him, straddling his hips.

You sat up over him and he groaned at the sight of you, soft skin moving over lean muscle, a patchwork of faint scars covering your torso. He ran his thumb over an especially noticeable one that ran over your ribs below your left breast as you guided him to your entrance and sheathed his length inside you suddenly, making him hiss.

You started grinding against him, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone before you started fucking yourself on his cock. He tossed his head back with a moan and a murmured “Fuck” as his hands moved to your hips and guided your thrusts, meeting your hips with his own as he rutted up into you.

He sat up suddenly and pressed you to him as he knelt beneath you, staring into your eyes with lust blown pupils, a thin golden ring around a pool of deep black. You wrapped your legs around his back as he fucked up into you at a faster pace, making it hard for you to breathe.

He wrenched your head down to his and crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading you hungrily as you felt your pleasure starting to coil in your abdomen and you whimpered into his mouth.

He felt you starting to clench around him and moved a hand between you to strum at your clit. It only took a moment and you were flying apart around him, every muscle below your waist spasming as your orgasm wracked you and you cried into his mouth. His release was right behind yours as his hips stilled and you felt his spend spurting into you, coating your velvety walls in his release with a feral growl.

He collapsed back on the bed, still holding you to him as you both came down from you pleasure, breathing heavily as your hearts pounded together. You propped your chin on his chest and gave him a sinful grin that he returned, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to untangle yourselves.

“Well, if all your surprises are that pleasant, Y/N, I can’t wait to find out more.” He said to you over his shoulder as he stood up from the bed, grabbing a towel to finish drying himself off. He tossed you one and you ran it softly between your thighs, cleaning the mixture of your releases from your slit as you grinned back at him.

“My dear Witcher, I aim to please.” You threw a wink at him before you stood up and stretched. “I arranged for some clean clothes to be brought up, could you check the door for them?”

He peeked his head out and brought in two sets of soft woolens, tossing one to you. You yanked a tunic over your head before stepping into the clean pair of breeches. You decided to forgo most of your blades for the moment, opting for a simple belt that contained two daggers once you had finished lacing up your bodice.

“Shall we head down for more ale?”

“Gods yes, what else do you know about this storied Redanian liquor?”

You gave him a throaty laugh as you headed down to the main room and lute music floated up to meet you.

“Ah, Y/N! Geralt! My friends! Join us for a song won’t you? Y/N, I still want to hear you sing ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for us, eh? Oh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger”

“Gods, Jaskier, aren’t you sick of that song yet?” Geralt growled half heartedly

“Pull the stick out of your ass, Witcher. C’mon, Jaskier. To pull on my horn, as it rises in the morn!”

“What a lovely voice you have my lady! For tis naught but bad luck, to fuck with a puck!”

The Witcher rolled his eyes at the two of you as he headed to the bar and the rest of the patrons joined in. What he wouldn’t give to never hear this abominable tune ever again.

“Lest your grandkid be born, a hairy young faun! Bleating and baying all day, hey ho!”

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geekgirles · 3 years

Text

Your Heart

Chapter 2 -- The Invitation

Word Count: 8,903

READ ON AO3

Hours could have passed since Sam received the letter and she wouldn’t have noticed, the events were so unreal her mind still hadn’t been able to fully register them. What was supposed to be a day like any other suddenly passed by in a blur. And no matter what she did, she just couldn’t make sense of it all.

The moment Star gave her the letter, the queen recognised the logo engraved on the seal closing the envelope. That forsaken logo had made daily appearances on the news for the last three years, when he started using and associating it to his person.

Danny Phantom.

The current Ghost King.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the feeling of astonishment that came with that simple realisation. Such was her stupor that, once her back collided against her black mahogany vanity, her legs lost all strength to support her weight, slowly sliding down until Sam was seated on the floor of her chambers. Eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

Terror gripping at them at the sight of their, otherwise collected, queen, the handmaidens immediately scurried over her, checking for any sign that would imply their leader needed any sort of assistance.

A million thoughts materialised inside Sam’s head. How did the Ghost King know there were witches in Amity Park? Did all ghosts know they weren’t the only otherworldly creatures blending in with humans? How did the Ghost King know where to find them? Were her people in danger?

But most importantly, why did the infamous Danny Phantom write her for?

Grimacing, Sam figured there was only one way to find out. With a shaking hand, she gestured for Star to bring her the envelope. Concern still apparent on the blonde’s features, for her queen must have truly been too stunned to perform magic herself, she nonetheless did as she was instructed. “Fluito,” she whispered, and immediately afterwards an orange, fire-like aura surrounded the envelope, until the object came to them.

Sam gripped the envelope like a life line and, with trembling hands, broke the wax seal to get to the letter inside. What she found only made matters worse:

“Dear Madam,

I hope this message finds you well. I would not be able to reprimand you if my sudden writing to you took you by surprise; I found myself disbelieving of my own actions, after all.

I wish to inform you on an important occurrence I believe deserves your attention. However, I will not be able to describe said occurrence through this letter, unfortunately. I fear it might be intercepted by those who would give anything to see me fall, or perhaps by your own enemies if you were to have them.

It is because of such circumstances that I formally invite you and whoever you decide as members of your entourage to my lair in the Ghost Zone, in hopes that we will be able to discuss these matters without fear of our respective domains being put in jeopardy.

In order to save ourselves some time, if you were to accept my proposal, you and your entourage shall go to the outskirts of Amity Park in a week’s time, where one of my subjects will be waiting for you.

I eagerly await your answer,

King Phantom.”

Once she was done reading the letter, Sam could only gape at it. That had been an eternity ago, and now she was pacing up and down her room, massaging her temples as she tried making sense of it all.

When the initial shock from the Ghost King’s message had finally worn off, Sam proceeded to re-read the letter, in case she misunderstood the spectre’s motives and he was actually requesting something far more reasonable than her company. Like declaring war on them. Ghosts and witches going to war with each other made much more sense than members of both species ーthe leaders of both species, as a matter of factー willingly being near the other for the first time in 328 years.

But she came back empty-handed. And that could only mean one thing; she had to read the letter again because, clearly, her reading comprehension wasn’t as good as she thought. And so, Sam read the letter for the third time...and the fourth time...and the fifth time...

By the time she had already read the accusing piece of paper for the eleventh time, she finally understood her company was exactly what Phantom was requesting of her. But why?

“If you keep going in circles like that, you’re gonna get dizzy,” Paulina chimed in, watching as her queen paced around the room, muttering nonsense under her breath. “Or what’s worse, you’re going to make me dizzy.”

“Pauli’s right, Sam. Drawing a hole on the floor will get you nowhere.” Star agreed, her own eyes following the raven-haired girl’s every move. In any other circumstances, say, if Pamela were around, the two girls would get in trouble for addressing the Witch Queen so casually. However, once they were assigned to her and Sam discovered the usefulness of their talents, the three young women had soon agreed to treat each other informally whenever they were away from prying eyes.

Sam wholeheartedly believed familiarity was the key to winning someone’s trust. Because of that, she allowed for witches as loyal as her ladies-in-waiting to get close to her, while keeping anyone she suspected of being troublesome at a respectful distance.

Nibbling on her thumb, a clear sign of her distress, Sam shook her head. “Girls, you don’t understand. This simple letter could lead to disastrous consequences! And I’m not talking about whatever it is that that forsaken Phantom wants from me, which is a whole new level of worrying; I’m talking about the possibility of our clan being compromised!” The Latina and the blonde started when Sam abruptly stopped pacing, stomping her foot against the floor to get their attention. “If the ruler of a race we haven’t had any contact with in more than three centuries knows where to find us, who’s to say the rest of Amity Park remains blissfully unaware of our very existence? This is The Great Burning all over again!” She bellowed in anguish.

This was bad. This was very bad. Unlike ghosts, who revelled in wreaking havoc amongst mortals and drawing attention from it, witches had long decided to remain off the humans’ radar. For centuries, they blended in with normal men and women, pretending to be just like them, while they carried out their spells, rites, and ceremonies away from the public eye in the safety of their manor.

The existence of their society was their best-kept secret, and they’d be damned if such information got leaked. For starters, that pesky witch hunter they often brushed off could very well turn into a real threat.

The fact that their secret depended on a ghost of all things made Sam’s insides churn in fright and rightful outrage.

“Alright, you have a point,” Paulina conceded, but to her companions’ shock her worried gaze soon morphed itself into a swoon, “But you can’t deny that the Ghost King is a total hunk. I’m so jealous of you right now.” She sighed, her mind clearly elsewhere.

Scowling darkly at the Latina, Sam turned to her other lady-in-waiting, “Star, please, do me a favour and smack her. Hard.”

The blonde did as she was told and hit her friend on the back of her neck, eliciting a complaint from her.

Sending a glare to her fellow witch, Paulina began to gently rub the area. “You don’t have to do everything she tells you, you know?”

“Um, Pauli? She’s the Queen...You know, as in our boss? I literally have to do everything she tells me.” She reminded her, earning herself a huff from the aggravated girl. She then turned to her queen, her own eyes sparkling with excitement. “Paulina’s got a point, though. For a dead guy with ice powers, he sure is hawt. Watching him save the day is the highlight of my week!”

Sensing an aura filled with murderous intent, Star flinched slightly under Sam’s withering glare. “He’sーstillーaーghost.” Her queen said through gritted teeth.

Watching the interaction, the Latina beauty sniffed in displeasure, “Hey, no fair! You haven’t told me to hit her for drooling over the Ghost King!”, she whined.

“Girls, focus! This is serious!” Sam snapped.

Her fellow witches actually had the decency to look down in shame at her outburst. “Uh...right, sorry.” Paulina apologised sheepishly.

Somehow, something about the girl’s apology didn’t sit well with Sam. Their knowing smirks, staring down at her as if they knew a secret she didn’t, sent goosebumps down her spine. “What?”

Paulina raised her palms up in surrender. “Nothing. It’s just that I thought you’d be more appreciative of Phantom’s physique given your...preferences.” She finished with a coy smile.

That comment sent the Witch Queen reeling, which wasn’t helped in the least by Paulina’s smug look and Star’s snickering by her side. Her preferences? Was she serious? “Excuse me? Just because I’m a Goth doesn’t mean I’m necrophiliac! I’m not that hardcore, andー! ...why are you laughing?”

Sam’s indignant defence of her lifestyle was met with her two informants doubled over in laughter. Sam could do nothing but stare on, dumbfounded. After a few minutes, they seemed to finally calm down. Star, resting her weight over Paulina’s hunched over form, wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye as her laughter died down. “Sam,” she panted, “what Pauli means is that Phantom looks a lot like your ex. White hair, green eyes...Ring a bell?”

The young witch spluttered at that. Now that she thought about it, Danny Phantom was remarkably similar to her ex-boyfriend, Gregor...or Elliot, or whatever he called himself now. All the more reason to distrust the so-called ‘hero of Amity Park’.

“Whatever”, she huffed, before her expression turned downcast. Plopping down on the starry covers of her bed, she raised her hands to her head as she leaned forward. DeMilo came hopping to her, nuzzling her leg with its stem.

No matter how the Ghost King looked, he had still addressed her by personally sending her a letter. The location of her clan’s headquarters was a secret almost as well-kept as the very existence of her sisters. Whatever she chose to do could endanger hers and their fellow covens!

On the one hand, ghosts were treacherous and conniving. If she went to the Ghost Zone as per requested of her, she could be falling into a trap, bringing chaos and anarchy upon her own coven with her, for she was still too young to have an heiress of her own. And since there were no other purple-eyed witches, her demise would bring forth internal battles for control.

She couldn’t afford that to happen.

But, on the other hand, ghosts were also malicious and resentful. There was a reason why they remained stuck in their realm instead of moving on! If she were to refuse the invitation, they could either attack or reveal their existence to the humans in retaliation. Either way, it would have disastrous consequences for her coven...if they even survived the onslaught.

She certainly couldn’t afford that to happen either.

Sighing through her nose, in an effort to keep her head clear of any doubt, her gaze steeled. Turning to look at her handmaidens straight in the eye, all sense of familiarity gone, she gave but one simple order. “Arrange a Council meeting. Immediately.”

Understanding the gravity of the situation, her companions bowed down to her before hastily making their exit.

....................

Council meetings took place in the attic of the manor. What in any other house would be a dusty, dark place clattered to the ceiling with old furniture, boxes whose descriptions didn’t match their contents, and the stuff of nightmares of any five-year-old, the attic where the Amity Park Coven gathered was closer in size to a ballroom.

The rows of seats formed a “u” shape, being close to the walls and leaving the middle of the room, which was dedicated to witches making their cases or taking the floor, empty. On the far corner of the room, between the rest of the witches acting as witnesses to the meetings, was the podium where the Council sat down and presided over the room.

The Council consisted of four witches. The leader was the Queen, who oversaw the process and spoke for her and her fellow members once they’d reached a decision. Her second-in-command, and therefore the one who was in charge whenever it was the Queen herself that brought up a case or proposal to deliberate about, was the witch with the most proficiency at spellcasting after the clan’s head. The coven’s “Minister of War” was the best potion-maker in the clan. And, finally, the sorceress in charge of maintaining their anonymity amongst humans was she who was the most proficient shapeshifter.

Her interlaced hands resting on the wooden table from where she’d make her proposal in the middle of the room, Sam met her colleagues’ curious eyes with a determined gaze of her own. She could feel her mother’s disapproving glare on herーPamela never liked it when her daughter brought attention to herself, because it would mean that, if things went awry, all eyes would turn on herー, she could hear her people’s hushed voices, whispering among themselves, wondering what could possibly be so important to deserve an impromptu Council meeting summoned by the Queen herself.

But her mind was made up. Informing the Council in hopes of approval was a mere formality she simply could not avoid.

Clearing her throat, Margaret, the clan’s best spellcaster, stood up from her seat, silencing the room by drawing attention to herself with that simple action.

Margaret was a woman in her fifties. Her Grandma Ida used to tell her that when she was Sam’s age, she used to be quite the lookerーher mother often had to use a spell or two to send her suitors running. Even now, the woman still retained some of her youthful beauty. A woman of average height, Margaret’s sharp features hinted at an equally sharp mind. With chocolate skin, her green eyes hid an intellect and common sense that had often saved the clan from ruin, even during her Grandma’s reign. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, with slightly longer strands framing her diamond-shaped face. The woman’s fashion sense was a reflection of her responsible and professional nature, wearing a business suit consisting of a forest green jacket and skirt over a white shirt. Adorning her neck was a mustard kerchief and, Sam was willing to bet, she was wearing her favourite black heels.

“Your Majesty,” Margaret addressed her, “as you will understand, your sudden wish for a Council meeting has rendered us rather perplexed. We can only assume that whichever matters you wish to discuss must be of importance.”

It was Sam’s turn to stand up from her chair, “Of utmost importance.”

“Then, by all means, proceed.” The Council member nodded, gesturing at Sam.

“My dear subjects, just like your day has been disrupted by this sudden meeting, mine has been disrupted by a most unusual, and might I add disturbing, occurrence. As I was getting dressed in my quarters, readying myself to fulfill my duties of the day, one of my handmaidens came rushing in, a letter in her hand.” Sam braced herself for what came next, “The author of the letter is no other than Danny Phantom, the current Ghost King.”

Everyone gasped at the revelation. Soon after the surprise had worn off, chaos ensued. Indignant cries, questions asked aloud, and general confusion reigned. And who could blame them? Witches and ghosts had cut all ties that bound them centuries before.

“Order, order!” Wilhelmina, the coven’s greatest potion-maker and Minister of War, demanded as she repeatedly slammed the podium with her bare hands.

Once the commotion had died down, Margaret refocused her steely gaze on their Queen. “Your Majesty, please, do explain the contents of this letter.”

“Due to the Ghost King’s fear of the letter being intercepted by his enemies, the message was short yet direct. He wishes to discuss a matter of urgency with me, for which he has officially invited me and whoever I choose as members of my court to his lair in the Ghost Zone.”

Again, the room broke out in gasps and hushed questions Sam didn’t have the answer to. Then came the question Sam simultaneously dreaded and anticipated the most, “And what do you wish to do, your Majesty?”

“I wish to accept his proposal,” was her answer.

All Hell broke loose at her words, only this time, Wilhelmina herself was participating in it. Wilhelmina was a pudgy woman with a round face and a strong will. A woman in her late thirties to early forties, her fair complexion was spotted by countless freckles. She was relatively plain-looking, with auburn hair that she often wore in a tight bun and dark eyes, but judging from the rumours going around, her fiery personality landed her several conquests. Despite what her strong personality might imply, Wilhelmina favoured loose-fitting dresses, such as the dark blue and white polak-dotted one she was currently wearing, and sandals.

The potion-maker was one of the most outspoken in her hatred of ghosts, which in itself was common among witches. The resentment from all those years ago had never really faded, and ever since those damned spectres mysteriously reappeared, old wounds had reopened.

While both Grandma Ida and Sam advocated for steering clear from them unless provoked, Wilhelmina was a firm believer that they should have got rid of the spirits as soon as they first appeared, starting with Danny Phantom. A conviction that was only intensified the moment he was named King of the Ghosts.

“All in all”, Sam mused to herself, “she’s taking it way better than I expected.” The raven haired girl patiently waited until Margaret had, once again, everything under control. Due to her stick-by-the-book nature, the African American woman did not appreciate when one of her fellow Council members encouraged unruly behaviour.

“Your Majesty, this is preposterous!” Wilhelmina bellowed, slamming her hands down on her desk as she hastily stood up. “That husk of a person dares request your presence and you accept the invitation?! Forgive me, my Lady, but nothing good can come out of it.” A murmur of agreement could be heard throughout the room. Their Minister of War was right; what was their Queen thinking?

Then, she added, “Then again, what can we expect from a naive twenty-one-year-old girl.” Her words elicited a gasp from the crowd. On her part, although Sam was dying to tell her off, she masterfully remained impassive, only raising a questioning eyebrow at her direction. Her Grandma would’ve been so proud of her.

Margaret cleared her throat. “Although that last comment was uncalled for,” she admitted, shooting a glare at her colleague for her callous words, “Wilhelmina is right when she says attending this meeting would be...unorthodox,” ーSam had to admit, Margaret was almost as good as her mother at carefully choosing her words to appear as socially acceptable as possible. Almostー, “there is also great danger. We all know what happened the last time our people trusted ghosts; are we really willing to let them make fools out of us again?”

“I say this is ground for war!” Wilhelmina roared. “Your Majesty, you and your grandmother, may she rest in peace, gave orders to avoid confrontation unless provoked. Well, now we are being provoked, by being set up! We cannot let this...this...third rate ‘hero’”, she air-quoted with a scoff, “insult us like that and go scott free!”

“Wilhelmina, let her Majesty explain her reasoning. I’m sure she has thought this through.” Delilah, the clan’s expert shapeshifter, tried placating her fellow witch. Sam could only smile in gratitude.

At 28, Delilah was the youngest Council member, second only to Sam. Despite the usual naiveté and unrealistic optimism attributed to her youth, Delilah was also the one most willing to listen to the other side of the story. She preferred broadening her horizons before making a verdict, trying to understand where the witch in question was trying to get at. And this time, she was trying to understand why Sam would want to go to the lion’s den.

The shapeshifter’s natural beauty was also unmatched. Paulina would sometimes seethe in jealousy at the attention she would get or how effortlessly she pulled any look the Latina herself had trouble with. Narrow shoulders and hips, a well-defined burst, legs for miles… Delilah was any man’s fantasy! With her smooth, caramel skin. Her strikingly blue eyes and long lashes. And her silky, ebony hair she often styled in a long braid. Her fashion sense was so on point it could put any haute couture designer to shame. For instance, to that meeting she wore an off-shoulder, long-sleeved red mini dress, a black belt with a golden buckle tightened around her waist, and knee-high black leather boots.

Wilhelmina nodded reluctantly, crossing her arms. Smiling at that, Delilah turned to Sam. “Your Majesty, please, proceed.”

Sam breathed in deeply. Phantom’s request had piqued her interest; what could the ruler of the Ghost Zone possibly want from her and her people now that his kind roamed freely around the city? The last seven years both species had avoided each other like the plague, and even if they hadn't, nothing they could’ve done would warrant meeting up after centuries apart. Despite all her doubts and questions she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers to, Sam needed to know, above all else, if her people were safe. Determination coursing through her veins, she spoke up:

“As you all know, when I ascended to the throne, taking the mantle from my grandmother, I swore on my life and honour that everything I would do, every single decision I would take, would be with our safety in mind.

“When I read the Ghost King’s letter, I was as stunned as you are now. A thousand questions running freely through my mind. I have thought about this long and hard, until I reached my decision.” She lay her eyes on the potion-maker, “Wilhelmina, you are in your right to be suspicious of his intentions, for so am I, but just like this could be a trap, not answering their call could also very well be our downfall.

“Ghosts are mischievous, resentful, and self-centred. Everything they do is based on what gives them even the smallest amount of satisfaction, which often means that the only way to appease them is doing as they say.” When Margaret opened her mouth to intervene, Sam silenced her with a raised palm. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but it is. And that is not all. You might think I am making this choice lightly, but nothing further from the truth. In accepting Phantom’s proposal, I am trying to prevent the ghosts from retaliating, for they could endanger us if I were to refuse in revenge.”

Her violet eyes shone with fiery determination and unwavering confidence as she spoke her last words, “My decision is made. I shall go to the Ghost Zone, even if I must do so on my own. But I will protect our clan if it’s the last thing I do.”

A deafening silence hung in the air. Nobody even moved. Finally, Margaret intertwined her fingers, her shoulders resting atop her desk, her body moving forward. Her green eyes betrayed none of her feelings on the matter. “Very well. Feel free to request anything you might need from us. Have a safe journey, my Queen.”

And with that, every single witch present rose from her seat, bowing their heads to their leader as a sign of respect and submission.

She’d done it. She was going to go to the Ghost Zone.

......................

Once the meeting was over, Sam got ready to leave the room to start preparing as soon as possible when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Delilah smiling at her. She smiled back.

“Is everything alright, Delilah?” Since the shapeshifter and her were close in age, she was one of the few witches Sam acted casually to, seeing her as some sort of older sister.

Delilah shook her head, the smile never leaving her face. “I just wanted to wish you luck, Sam. You’re not just our queen, you’re also the first witch to visit the Ghost Zone in centuries!”

“I know.” Sam looked down on the floor, feeling slightly uneasy.

Sensing her discomfort, Delilah soon changed the topic. “Also, I just wanted to tell you that your Grandmother would have been incredibly proud.”

Sam gasped. Family was taboo around Delilah, for her family had the misfortune of dying young. Delilah’s own mother had died when her daughter was just fifteen. For her to bring up Grandma Ida...she must have meant every single word she said.

“Thank you, Delilah. That means a lot.”

With one squeeze of her hands, the blue-eyed beauty left her alone.

......................

That night, after a long, nerve-wracking day waiting for the Witch Queen’s reply, Danny was startled out of his musings by a ring of his doorbell. Taking off and changing his legs for a ghostly tail, the white-haired young man sprinted down his lair’s corridors until he was face to face with his door.

When he opened it, to his immense relief, he found the same ghostly postman he had sent to deliver his letter, only this time he was handing an envelope to him. Snatching the piece of paper with a quick, “Thanks”, Danny went back to his quarters in a blur.

Now that he had the envelope in his hands, he couldn’t help but eye it curiously. The envelope was of a rich, royal purple in colour, sealed with a black wax stamp, the relief of it drawing a rose.

This is it, he thought. Depending on her answer, we’ll either have to look for another solution, or for ways to protect ourselves the moment they turn their backs on us.

With shaking hands, he ripped open the envelope, taking the letter from inside. An immense relief coupled by a healthy dose of anxiety rolled off of him in waves when his eyes scanned over the words:

“Dear Sir,

I accept your proposal.

We shall meet in a week’s time.

Cordially,

Lady Arcana.”

Preparing themselves for a possible betrayal, it was.

..................

Making it to the outskirts of Amity Park was a hassle Danny hadn’t anticipated. If it weren’t because a group of mysterious women and a ghost suddenly appearing in their lab, in front of the Fenton Ghost Portal, wouldn’t fly with his parents, Danny would’ve actually sent the witches there.

Then again, guiding Skulker out of his family’s ghost portal and around town until they made it to their destination was no picnic, either. Especially since the hunter kept giving him the stink-eye and challenging his authority; questioning his motives for choosing him, of all people, as the sorceresses’ escort.

On top of that, the hills surrounding Amity Park really were the perfect place to meet up with the magic users while keeping the secretive nature of their encounter. Not only were the hills a good forty minutes away from the closest highway, a dense forest grew there, protecting its visitors from curious, unwanted eyes.

“For the last time, Skulker, I am not throwing you to the wolves!” It was the tenth time since they left the Ghost Zone that the ghost had accused him of using him as a decoy. “Seriously, will you drop it already?”

The hunter crossed his arms in a disbelieving huff, “Well, forgive me, your Majesty,” he mocked, “for suspecting you of using this as an opportunity to get rid of one of your detractors.” His glowing green eyes narrowed in distrust.

It was only 11AM and Danny was already exhausted. Technically, Skulker wasn’t exactly a detractor of his rule. When push came to shove, he was always easy to convince to lend a hand in times of needーsuch as now. Having said that, their mutual respect and the halfa’s position didn’t stop Skulker from hunting him for sport now and then. “Listen, me choosing you has nothing to do with your personal feelings about me. You’re really the only one I could send to guide the witches through the Ghost Zone.”

“Nice to know I’m so easily disposable…” Skulker quipped sarcastically. “Why not ask your canine companion for help?”

“Come on, you really think I could send Cujo to do this job?” Danny asked, unamused.

“I was actually talking about Wulf, given he’s the only ghost capable of creating portals.” Skulker met his expression with a raised eyebrow of his own. “I can’t believe you’d actually mix them up.”

Danny actually flushed at that, “W-well…Some ghosts have so many things in common, i-it’s a little bit hard to follow without enough...details…”

The hunter took offence to that. Huffing, he shot the halfa a glare. “Well, excuse us for ‘having so many things in common’”, he air-quoted for emphasis, “not all of us can manifest into the body of a human youth, whelp!”

Exasperated, Danny ran a hand through his hair, sighing through his nose. “I still can’t believe Ember hasn’t dumped you yet…” he muttered under his breath.

Unfortunately for him, Skulker heard him just fine. “Says the boy who hasn’t had a girlfriend since he was fourteen.” Seeing the ghost boy’s offended expression plastered a smirk on his face.

“Why you littleー!” Danny stopped himself before he’d lose his cool. If dealing with Skulker, a ghost he’d known since he was fourteen, was proving to be frustrating, he didn’t want to think how meeting up with the queen of a feuding tribe would be like. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he gave it one last try. “Look, Skulker. As much as I’d love to bicker with you like an old married couple all day, we really don’t have time for this. You’re here because you’re one of the most versatile ghosts I know. If there’s anyone capable of handling a group of spellcasting, broom-riding, black-cat-owning ladies, that’s you.”

Before the metallic spectre could so much as get a word in, the young Ghost King leapt into the air after making a show of looking at his ーinexistentー watch. “Oh, look at the time! The witches will be here any minute now. Better hurry back into the Ghost Zone. See ya!” With a mock salute thrown at Sulker’s general direction, he was gone in a blur of black and white.

The hunter was about to take off after him when, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed three cloaked figures approaching. Well, he sighed in defeat, it’s showtime.

Sam arched a questioning eyebrow at the ghost standing on the appointed place. He looked like the lovechild of Terminatra, one her favourite monsters of all time, and a G.I. Joe. With a flaming mohawk worthy of the Ghost Rider himself. In a way, she guessed it was fitting. Her lip curled in disgust when she eyed the arrangement of weapons strapped to his person; a hunter, no doubt.

If the Ghost King expected to scare her and her guards with such a pathetic display, he had another thing coming. Any other would be at the very least intimidated by the ghost’s burly figure and his imposing aura, but to women who battled grotesque creatures resulting from spells gone wrong on a daily basis, that was nothing.

After getting the approval of the Council for her “little expedition”, Sam recruited two witches: Susan Zhou and Stephanie Baker. To an outsider, taking only two other people with her to face such a powerful entity as Danny Phantom, in unknown territory, no less, would seem foolish, even suicidal. But Sam was no outsider; she knew exactly what she was doing.

Susan was Wilhelmina’s apprentice, and therefore, the clan’s next Ministre of War and master potion-maker once her mentor passed down the mantle to her. Short in height, tall in ambition, the Asian girl’s brown eyes were calculating and, if you were foolish enough to cross her, unforgiving; but full of warmth and mischief if she considered you a friend. She held her black and red-dyed hair in a pair of identical buns, one on each side of her head. Susan always favoured comfortable clothing most people would dedicate solely for doing exercise; you never knew when you’d have to exert yourself, she always said.

Despite being only seventeen years old, she already displayed great proficiency in the art of combat, her dexterous fingers useful both for brewing concoctions and sporting weapons. Susan’s family emigrated from China in the early 19th century. After much traveling, they stumbled upon the origins of what would become Amity Park, where the first members of the clan had already settled. Upon finding out the Zhou family weren’t just witches but also warriors, the coven welcomed them with open arms.

Warrior blood ran through her veins. It was no wonder their war-oriented council member had personally chosen her as her protegée.

Stephanie, however, was more of an intellectual. The 21-year-old woman was an avid reader who spent most of her time holed up inside the manor’s archives, where the spell books and records on their clan’s history were stored. The only other person who knew the place better than Stephanie herself was Delilah, who was actually its guardian. But since Sam couldn’t risk leaving her people without a member of the Council, due to her departure being risky enough, she asked Stephanie for help instead.

In truth, everything about the young woman screamed bookworm. Stephanie was a rather plain-looking girl, with a lanky figure and a long face, whose pale blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of oval-shaped glasses. Her straight, strawberry blond hair reached a little past her shoulders, and she was wearing a purple and white striped t-shirt with an equally purple pencil skirt and white sneakers.

As soon as they neared the place where the ghost was standing, Sam nodded at him in acknowledgement; a mere formality given her low opinion on the spectre, which, she was sure, was mutual on his behalf.

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Skulker warned the witches in his care, “No funny business, ladies. Or I might consider reforming my island so I can have more pelts hung on my walls.” He sent them a malicious grin.

While Sam rolled her eyes at the unnecessary threat and Stephanie flinched away from him in fright, Susan bore her teeth in aggravation. “I’d like to see you try, ghost.”

Both teenager and hunter stared the other down, but before they had the chance to jump at each other’s throats and brawl, the Witch Queen raised a placating hand, effectively telling her subject to stand down. Still, Susan would’ve given anything to wipe that smug look from the ghost’s face.

But Sam really hadn’t the time to keep those two in check. Focusing on the energy within her, she blocked everything around her, every possible distraction, out of her mind. All that mattered was her connection to her anima. Once she felt the familiar tingling of power, she extended a hand: Stephanie’s signal to take the magic grimoire out of the duffel bag she carried and hand it to her queen with a bow of her head.

Skimming through the pages, Sam stopped when she found what she was looking for. A section of the spell book portraying the silhouette of a person in front of a swirling opal, several runes surrounding it.

The spell to open up portals.

Once upon a time, any witch would have been able to conjure the spell without the need to check it out in a book, but ever since witches and spectres parted ways, her people no longer had the same use for it anymore. Nowadays, it was an almost forgotten practice.

Taking a deep breath, Sam extended her free hand in front of her and chanted, “Alium se orbem terrarum ad ianuam.” Soon, a familiar sparkly, violet mist emanated from her fingertips. The manifestation of energy rose into the air until it was the size of an average person, and then began to spin up and down, until a portal was in front of them.

Stephanie raised a confused eyebrow at Skulker when she thought she heard him mutter something along the lines of, “Show off”, but squeaked and looked away when the hunter lay his own eyes on her.

Handing the book back to the bestacled girl, Sam motioned for them to enter the portal. What they saw on the other side left them speechless.

The Ghost Zone was nothing like they had imagined. Instead of a clear difference between earth and sky, their world’s parallel dimension seemed to consist solely of a never ending abyss composed purely by ectoplasm, the most reminiscent thing to a floor it had being a few beat-up pathways made out of rock.

Floating in mid-air were all sorts of lairs. Some, like a faraway island in the shape of a skull, far more pretentious than others. Judging by how scarce those were in comparison to the countless doors with no building to be attached to in sight, Sam figured the more powerful a ghost was, the bigger its lair would be.

Which bore the question: what would Danny Phantom’s lair be like?

Sam was snapped out of her thoughts by the ghost hunter suddenly materialising in front of her. Susan was about to unsheathe a few of her most lethal potions when the apparition simply showed them the way with a motion of his hand. “This way.” He turned around and began walking, after a minute or two, though, he turned his head to them, “Oh, and by the way, if any of you is afraid of heights, you’d better not look down.”

Stephanie gazed down, unbidden, and almost fainted. Below them was nothing but an endless abyss, no land on sight. Feeling queasy, she squeaked, “Dutifully noted.”

They walked along the rocky path for what could’ve been hours or mere minutes, the absence of a sun making it difficult to accurately pinpoint the passage of time. After what felt like an eternity, Skulker abruptly stopped, almost making Sam and her entourage bump on him in the process, pointing somewhere in front of him.

“Well, this is it, ladies. The Ghost King’s lair.”

Standing proudly on top of a drifting piece of land was a brick three-story building. If Sam hadn’t known any better, she’d think she was looking at an apartment complex, rather than a king’s castle. Then again, Skull Island ーas she lovingly nicknamed the placeーwas very tacky for a powerful’s ghost lair, so for all she knew the building before her could be the latest scream in home decor in the Ghost Zone.

While it was a mostly modest space, the highest floor in particular stood out for its large picture windows, which were at least three times bigger than the rest. “That must be Phantom’s chambers”, the violet-eyed girl guessed. “Overseeing your subjects, eh, your Majesty?”

When they arrived at the door, they were momentarily startled when it opened on its own accord. The Witch Queen scoffed at her own ridiculous behaviour; she’d seen and done way scarier things on Halloween, for fuck’s sake! Once inside, Skulker guided them through several corridors, taking so many turns in so many different directions it was enough to render anyone disoriented. As they strode down the halls, Sam took notice of how...sterile the lair was. Most walls were bare of any decorations, at most they’d have some sort of blue wallpaper on. The few walls with paintings hanging from them were decorated by rather impersonal portraits: a picture of an ectoplasm swirl here, a portrait of a shapeless ghost there… Instead of a castle interior, this looked more like a cheap Halloween haunted house.

The place was so barren that she noticed the shift immediately. Suddenly, before her were two large, mahogany doors, which, once again, opened without any exterior help, revealing the throne room.

While still impersonal, the space was much grander in every single sense of the word. Granite, Corinthian columns stood proudly on the sidelines. Several tapestries depicting what Sam could only guess was Danny Phantom’s battle against Pariah Dark and a few other adventures she couldn’t recognise hung from the ceiling. Right in front of them a red velvet carpet was rolled down until it reached the throne itself ーa rather modest metal chair with black velvet upholsteryー where the infamous Ghost King was seated on.

Upon their arrival, the ghostly monarch stood up in respect. “At least he’s not arrogant enough to forsake manners”, Sam quipped internally. Standing at both sides of him were a bipedal, arctic-wolf like creature with an arm encased in ice, and a blue spectre wearing a hooded outfit, a sceptre in hand, whose physical form was constantly fluctuating between child, adult, and old man.

As the Queen and her companions neared the throne, and hence, the so-called Hero of Amity Park, she took him in. Snow white hair, glowing green eyes that appeared capable of staring right through you, a black and white hazmat suit over a well-built physique… Yep, in front of her was Danny Phantom, alright.

The only thing making it obvious that she would be addressing the Ghost King instead of the most controversial public figure in town was a very minor, yet significant, change in his appearance.

Draped over his shoulders was a cape, white on the outside and black on the inside, with two verdigris medallions which had engraved that wretched logo of his keeping the garment in place with the help of a chain. Resting on his shock white hair, reflecting the item’s otherworldly glow, was the Crown of Fire; its green embers burning almost as intensely as the Phantom’s radioactive green eyes. The crown’s partner, the Ring of Wrath, surrounded his white, gloved ring finger. One could feel the raw power emanating from its green material. The mere sight of the engraved skull and its unforgiving, blood red, ruby eyes was enough to send anyone subjected to it running.

But there was no way Sam would ever run away after making it this far.

Danny observed patiently as the Witch Queen and her two companionsーonly two?ー arrived before him. Once they were eye-level (or as eye-level as two people could be when someone was standing over an incline) the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park took off her hood. At the sight before him, Danny had to fight very hard to suppress a sharp inhale in surprise.

He supposed that, in hindsight, expecting the queen to look like an stereotypical wrinkly old lady was a tad narrow-minded of him, but in all fairness, nothing would’ve prepared him for the person standing right in front of him.

Upon taking off her hood, silky, raven hair came cascading down until it reached a little past her shoulders, the strands and diamond-shaped fringe framing her heart-shaped face. Smooth, ivory skin contrasted greatly with the mop of hair, black as night, resting on her head. Her full, velvety lips were emphasised by her purple lipstick. And her long, mascara-coated lashes surrounded a pair of amethyst orbs. Those had to be the most tantalising eyes he had ever seen; a galaxy of mystery lay hidden behind their depths.

Lady Arcana was the kind of woman he would’ve tripped himself over for, back in high school. Now a college student...he might’ve signed up to a couple of classes that had absolutely nothing to do with his degree if it meant seeing her again.

Looking down, and praying to all things above him it wasn’t noticeable, he took notice of what the sorceress was wearing. The Queen was wearing an off-shoulder ball gown, of a pale violet in colour, with a sweetheart neckline. The bodice hugged her body until it flared down into the skirt. Adorning its neckline and hem were embroidered black thorns. Resting on her head lay a silver tiara, with diamond-shaped obsidians running alongside the top ornament, and a noticeably bigger amethyst in its centre. A black and glittery cloak, resembling the night sky, rested atop the young witches’ shoulders.

Beautiful, yet deadly. A clear warning against the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park: get too close, and you will regret it.

Knowing they had much to discuss, the halfa bowed down before her, with a hand behind his back and the other in front of him, making a flourish, as a sign of respect. “Lady Arcana, it is an honour to have you here.”

Sam and her entourage curtsied in response. “King Phantom, the honour is all mine.”

“I will cut to the chase, since the circumstances are unorthodox enough: my people need your assistance.”

Well, at least he was direct… “And what, exactly, is that which you need help with, your Majesty? As much as I would like to aid you, there is not much I can do without knowing the details.”

“And you are in your right to question that, but first…”

With a motion of his hand, a green-skinned, red-eyed maid wearing a blue dress brought a smaller chair close to the king. When his eyes landed on Sam, she understood that was meant for her. If there was one thing experience had told her, that was that being invited to sit down meant it was going to be a lengthy discussion.

When Lady Arcana had sat down, Danny continued. “Now, that’s better.” Seeing her unresponsive expression, he cleared his throat nonchalantly. “What we need your help with is the Ghost Zone’s portals.”

The violet-eyed girl raised a confused eyebrow at that. “The portals?”, Phantom nodded. “But, King Phantom, my people have not had anything to do with your world in centuries! Today was the first time in over three-hundred years that anyone used a spell meant to open portals.”

Leaning forward in an attempt to appear closer and not intimidating, trying to get the witches to underestimate him per Frosbite’s suggestion, Danny explained. “My apologies, your Majesty, I did not mean to imply your people were responsible for the problem. No, what I mean is that only your people can help us control them.”

Sam didn’t understand where this was going. Taking her silence as permission, Danny went on, “As you know, the Ghost Zone has been opening up portals to Earth for millenia, however, many more gates have been opened as of late. Many more than any previous date has ever registered.” Understanding dawning on the queen’s face, Danny pressed. “We wish to ask you to help us close and pinpoint the cause for such bizarre occurrences.”

Sam had mixed feelings about the proposal. On the one hand, random portals opening up was never a good sign; the space-continuum fabric was very delicate. But, on the other hand, her people would gain nothing from it. Nothing but endangering themselves by putting their lives in the hands of ghosts. She had to make sure her trip hadn’t been for nothing and that her people were truly safer for it.

Resting her elbow on the arm of her chair, her legs crossed in boredom, Sam appraised the apparition before her with a pensive frown. “And how exactly, pray tell, would my people benefit from assisting your kind, your Majesty?”

The way she basically spat the word didn’t go unnoticed by the white-haired half-ghost. He narrowed his eyes on her. “Well, your people,” he snarled in return, “would be safe, of course.”

Sam’s hopes plummeted. He was all talk, just as she feared. ‘Her people would be safe’? Was he threatening her? Please, they were already in danger solely from his knowing of their existence, let alone their headquarters! With a huff, Sam stood up from her chair. The conversation was over. “Thank you for having us, King Phantom. But I am afraid we must depart.”

Although the original plan was to ask them for help and look for alternatives were they to refuse, seeing the queen walking away from him stirred a primal fear in Danny. Somehow, he knew she was the only one who could help him. They were doomed if he let her slip away. “Lady Arcana, wait!”

His frantic call got Sam to stop. Looking over her shoulder, she gave him her full attention. Seeing he had caught her interest, Danny insisted. “When I said your people would be safe, it wasn’t an empty promise: the sudden appearance of portals is a sign that something is amiss. The more portals open, the more unstable our world becomes.” What he said next was chilling enough to elicit goosebumps to run down their spines. “The Ghost Zone is a parallel dimension to Earth, if our realm is destroyed, so is yours.”

Sam’s eyes widened at his words, even Susan couldn’t stifle a startled gasp. If what he was saying was true, then her people were doomed, regardless of how well-kept their secret was. If she refused his proposal, her subjects and the other clans all over the world would pay greatly for her mistake. However…

Her gaze hardened, determination motivating her actions once again. In the off chance that Phantom was only making things up to get her to agree, she needed to ensure her people wouldn’t pay for her mistake. And there was only one way to do it.

Taking firm steps, she walked resolutely to where the green-eyed spirit stood. Staring deep into his eyes, she made her counterproposal. “Very well, I shall help you with your problem.”

Before Danny could let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Lady Arcana spoke up again. “But in return for my services you must ensure my people’s safety. Under no circumstances will anyone discover our existence or whereabouts. We already have to deal with a witch huntress coming after us.” She could’ve sworn the king choked at that. “If I find out our way of living has been compromised in any way, you and your kingdom are all alone. Now,” she extended her hand for him to shake, “do we have a deal, King Phantom?”

Danny eyed her suspiciously. Her violet eyes simultaneously held a fiery temper and cold determination, even with his powers, he could sense there’d be Hell to pay if he didn’t keep his part of the deal. Then again, everything they’d ever known was in danger, even if the Queen couldn’t care less for the Ghost Zone and its inhabitants, and her request was what any sensible and caring leader would ask for. On paper it looked like the perfect compromise…

He just hoped he didn’t come to regret it.

Holding the witch’s hand in a firm grip, he shook hands with her. “We have a deal, Lady Arcana.”

#Danny Phantom #DP #dp fanfic #my fanfic #your heart #amethyst ocean #danny fenton #sam manson #Paulina Sanchez #star #star dp #skulker #ocs #ghost king au #ghost king! danny #witch queen sam #witch queen au #enemies to friends to lovers

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nekoabiwrites · 4 years

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Love on the Fly Floor

My lecturer once told my uni class about this story of an actor who was crushing heavily on one of the flymen, and then they had said flyman be shirtless on the actor’s birthday when he was flown out - just to fuck with him. I loved it so much that I wrote it down and now I finally got around to writing it

(PS: the Fly Floor is where the flying is done for a show. And flying is raising and lowering pieces of set, which is done by flymen.)

AU: Theatre Pairing: Pining Prinxiety Words: 1411 Warnings: Nothing.

Summary: Roman is crushing bad on one of the flymen on his show. When his birthday rolls around, the cast and crew decide to help things along.

“Oh my goodness, Patton. You should have seen him the other day…” Roman sighed dreamily as he stretched his arms towards the ceiling. He was thankful that their current venue had provided the two of them a dressing room with enough space where he could warm up alongside his friend, rather than his usual routine of having to find another space somewhere in the building.

Patton giggled softly, trying his best not to move too much as he continued applying his stage makeup, “I dunno, Roman. Seems like you want to keep a sight like that to yourself.”

“Shut up!” Roman snapped to standing straight up, “Such stunning beauty should not be confined to just one person’s sight. It should be shared with the world!” He spun around, as if gesturing to said world. “Either way, he is far too gorgeous to be hidden so far up. He has just the most perfect face for the stage, and a strong physique too. Oh, he is so perfect…” Roman daydreamed happily as he took up a seat beside Patton, sighing as he did so.

“Alright, Birthday Boy. Maybe you can ask him for a present today?” Patton suggested, grinning widely when Roman’s face turned a lovely shade of red.

“I could never use that as an excuse! Besides,” Roman waved a hand in dismissal, “I’m sure someone like him either is uninterested in me, has a partner or is… straight.” Roman almost shuddered at the thought of someone he felt so strongly about being entirely incompatible with himself.

“How will you know until you ask, Ro?”

“…I won’t. But that is far too personal, Patton. It is highly unprofessional to pry into the affairs of a co-worker.” Roman ended the conversation there. Patton picked up on it quick and changed the subject, but the topic still lingered in the back of his mind.

“All company to the stage please. That’s all company to stage. Thank you.” The voice of the stage manager rang through the speaker high on the wall and the pair finished up their current tasks before taking the short walk to the stage. They managed to converge upon the stage at the same time as many of their fellow actors, all of which wished Roman a happy birthday when they approached him.

Roman thanked them but didn’t allow them to linger on the topic for long before starting up a new conversation. As much as he loved being the centre of attention, Roman didn’t want to seem too self-centred around his fellow cast members. He did have to travel with them for a few more months and his job would get far more difficult if they all started to despise him. His thoughts almost started to spiral into the darker side of things when the stage manager entered and caught everyone’s attention.

“Thank you all for arriving so promptly. We have some important things to get through before the stage can be reset. The most important things we’ll need to run are all scenes that involve flying people up and into the grid, so we can ensure the safety of all involved as a new flyman is joining the crew for the remaining shows. The crew are all set and ready to go, so if we could get prepared for that.”

The cast went to disperse, but a shout from the dance captain stopped them all. “Before we do that, there is one important thing we need to do!” He scurried off into the wings, followed by two ensemble dancers. They returned quickly with a card and a small cake. As if on cue, all the cast turned to Roman and began to sing happy birthday for him. It was short and sweet and Roman truly did appreciate the sentiment. He thanked them all graciously, offering hugs to all the cast around him.

“I’ll take them back to the dressing room, okay?” Patton said, taking the card and cake from Roman’s hands.

“Thank you, Patton. That is so kind of you.”

“It’s nothing! You have things to do anyway!” With that, the other man was off into the wings whilst Roman got into position.

He was handed his harness, which he was helped into before being hooked up to the thin yet strong wires that would allow Roman to be lifted. After the checks were done, the stage manager called out to him, “Alright Roman, are you ready?” He nodded in response, “Okay. You can take him up.”

Roman steadied himself as he felt his weight leave the ground. He was used to this by now, as he had been doing it almost four times a day for a while. They went through the scene, getting him moving from position to position, all under the watchful eye of everyone in the area. The scene was almost over, Roman delivered his last line and was flown high up into the grid, out of view of the audience. Underneath him, Roman knew that if he looked down, he would see the crew that were working fast to bring in the next set and another fly bar far ahead of him came in to mask his inevitable descent. It was almost over; he was so close. But Roman was never one who was good with avoiding temptation. He looked over to the fly floor and his mouth promptly fell open.

The man he’d been gushing about to Patton. The gorgeous flyman. The fantastically strong, mouth-wateringly pretty flyman. Was leaning against the railing. Staring directly at him. A smirk gracing his beautiful mouth. Utterly, wonderfully shirtless.

Roman’s mouth ran dry and his face quickly blushed as he took in the silent strength of the muscles that he could make out. The crossed arms that were resting on the bar were defined subtly, as were the rest of the chest and torso. The man’s skin was as pale as Roman had thought and it offered such a blank canvas that was just begging to be decorated. And then that infuriating yet intoxicating smirk and look that the man was giving him; he had to know that Roman was into him, there was no other explanation for that look.

The man played with his hair as he stood back up, pushing it into its usual position of almost covering his eyes before making a gesture that could only mean one thing: “call me”.

Roman didn’t know when his feet had reached back onto the ground. Nor when he’d been crowded by people. He was dazed, almost as if the sight had completely dazzled him and left him brainless. It was only when people started laughing that Roman managed to snap out of it. He noticed that they were all looking at him and that all the set was still in its original position. Roman’s brain pieced everything together in an instant, “You… you all set this up!” The laughter got louder at his realisation. Roman pouted and crossed his arms, “You’re all disgusting creatures! How could you?! Taking advantage of my situation like that! I am delicate! What if you had destroyed me?!”

A soft chuckle broke through the loud laughter and an arm wrapped around Roman’s waist, the free hand of the person behind him unhooking the wires, “What are you gonna do about it, Princey?”

Roman stood straighter, his mouth suddenly dry once more as he looked down at the black-painted nails and the bare arm. “I’m going to… to… um…”

“You are going to call me.” Roman had to fight not to shudder at the breath that fanned over his neck as the flyman whispered so close to his ear, the tone deep, rich and oh so sinful. A piece of paper was slipped effortlessly into Roman’s hand, “And, when the show is over, you’re going to dinner with me.”

“I… we, what?”

“Dinner. You know, eating, drinking, talking. All that stuff. We’re doing that after the show tonight. My treat, birthday boy.” With that, the flyman left. He sauntered off in the direction of the backstage corridor before someone called out to him.

Roman was still a little shocked from the interaction. He’d not actually considered that he’d be interested in him, let alone would be taking him out on a date… He looked down at the paper in his hand, the scribbled name above the number just about legible, “Virgil…” the name fell from Roman’s lips like a prayer.

My other stuff: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/myworks Mobile Accessible Masterlist: http://nekoabi.tumblr.com/post/181954641376/fic-masterlist Recreating Masterlist: https://nekoabiwrites.tumblr.com/post/611395890160238592/recreating-masterlist

General Tag List: @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @didsomeonesayprince @llamaly @justanotherpurplebutterfly @iaminmultiplefandoms @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 @lowkeyvirgilobsessed @louisthewarlock @fangsandrainbows @xxladystarlightxx @sleepyssnail @ao-koshka @notalwaysthevillian @pumpkinminette @doces-e--tuga @coloursintheblur @safesandersides @hogwarts-my-love

#Sanders Sides #Fanfiction #Prinxiety #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #Patton Sanders #Creativity Sanders #Anxiety Sanders #Morality Sanders #Theatre AU

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talesofsonicasura · 4 years

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Unappreciated Hunter

A Monster Hunter encounters Hat Kid and helps her out. Didn't know he was going to get dragged into her weird life.

Kokoto, the village of strong and tough Monster Hunters. The citizens can be quite pushy to traveling hunters and at higher levels when it revolves around ex guild hunters. Any hunter from Kokoto would judge and mock any fellow warrior 'not worth their salt'. Even the Felyne that runs the cafetine there is quite rude.

Yet, it was the only place to acquire certain materials or ingredients which is important for any that travels in monster infested lands. Items that couldn't be found anywhere else. After all it was also a popular merchant village, considering the village chief was a retired Legendary Hunter. Guess the high standards considering hunters was slightly justified.

"...And fuck you too! Go kiss a Congala's ass if that's how you treat your customers!" Angry swearing was also guaranteed as a white haired man stormed out of a shop in rage. Long silver locks tied into a wild ponytail, tannish skin balanced by lean yet rock hard muscle, eyes were a bright blue highlighted by black stripe outlines, and stood at an intimidating 7'2 in height.

His clothes consisted of a long beige winter coat with blue and red triangle patterned cuffs alongside large cotton ball looking buttons, beige long trousers with white puffy cuffs, black hiking boots made out of some sort of reptilian hide and white fur gloves. In his hand was a woven straw basket filled with fruit, cheeses, spices and herbs.

The man let an aggravated sigh before trying to cool his temper. "Come on Kahtal. Don't let that asshat get to you. Plus Nekona those need the ingredients and getting blacklisted from every shop went help." He or Kahtal said rubbing his hand against the side of his head. He took a deep breath and continued to the next vendor.

Well, he would if a soft sparkle of light hadn't grabbed his attention. This tinge of light was a mystifying soft blue and looked to be near the Hero Shrine by the village's oldest tree. Curiosity getting the best of him, he walked over to the odd phenomenon awarely ignorant to disapproving glances from some of the village hunters.

The Hero Shrine was essentially a tree that held the Hero's Shield and the stone before carrying the Hero's Blade. Weapons used by Kokoto's chief to defeat a powerful Elder Dragon known as Lao-Shan-Lung. What really got Kahtal's attention was what sat slightly embedded into the earth a bit far from the shrine.

This item looked like an hourglass, well a very weird hourglass. The glass was crystal clear that sparkled but held no sand in it, the rims that kept it together had two gold beads sandwiching a purple hat shaped and the soft glow that radiated from the very object. It was beautiful and incredibly well crafted from Kahtal's perspective.

"Who could make something like this and where's their owner?" Kahtal picked up the item carefully while speaking his thoughts to himself. One thing he did know was it looked to be very important and not the type of item to be trashed carelessly. Someone clearly lost it. His thoughts were interrupted by a soft 'Hey!'.

The young man looked down to see his leg was being tugged by a little girl. She had soft peach skin paired with curly brown hair in a back ponytail and topped with a purple top hat that had a gold ribbon, bright blue eyes and little nose. She wore a purple shirt with a light gold cape, white trousers and black little shoes. On her back was a light blue umbrella covered in stickers.

"Um, hi there. Sorry I didn't notice you." Kahtal said with a sheepish look on his face. The peculiar little girl let out a tiny giggle before nodding. She then pointed at the hourglass in his hand. The man took a glance at her hat and the hat beads on the hourglass. They were the exact same.

"Does this belong to you? I found it dugged a bit into the ground over there." He pointed at the little hole in the grass. The little girl nodded heavily with a polite smile on her face. Kahtal guessed she was a selective mute as the only word she spoke was 'Hey' in order to get his attention.

"Well, here you go. You're lucky I found it. I don't think any other passerby would have given it back." The young man handed the child the hourglass carefully as to not drop it. She took the peculiar item and hugged it before hugging his leg in appreciation. Kahtal let out a soft chuckle before patting her head.

"I must be going. My friend is waiting for me outside the village with these groceries. Take care." The little girl nodded at his words before whispering a soft quiet 'thank you'. Both went their separate ways and Kahtal's mood was much better after that.

The next time he saw the little girl or the fact he met her again at all was in the worst place a child should never be. There are places in this monster filled world that normal people aren't allowed to travel alone. Only ones who could were merchants, caravans and most highly monster hunters. Kahtal was the latter of this group.

A mission was sent to his personal home by a messenger Kinsect. The client wanted him to gather some Coal from an area known as the Volcanic Hollow. A large string of caverns found within a monstrous supervolcano. The intense heat in the deeper sections made it a cozy home for all sorts of deep dwelling monsters and perfect place to gather ores.

It looked like a simple quest but these types of missions usually had something dangerous causing problems in the background. A pretty accurate assumption to make as there was a Subquest at the bottom. An extra piece of mission that was optional for the Hunter but meant extra pay if taken.

This particular Subquest was asking for him to stop a Uragaan who was causing a ruckus down there. Uragaan also known as the Burst Hammer Wyvern, a large Brute Wyvern that can create powerful tremors by slamming its armored jaw into the ground and rolling over any foolish creature to aggravate it. Their diet consisting of ores made it dangerous for any miner who accidentally runs into one.

Gathering supplies to keep him properly cool in the hotter areas were necessary since having a heatstroke in a volcano was the worst way to go. Once preparations were made and gear was set, the hunter set off to Volcanic Hollow. Dealing with the Burst Hammer Wyvern was the first thing needed to be done before even thinking of digging for coal.

This definitely wasn't a place normal people should travel through. A simple thought of a little girl in purple strolling through the lava heated caverns. The interior of a volcano was less lava-y than any she had seen before. First spot to find after jumping down the mouth was a few small conjoining clifftops and some natural hot springs by them.

Only things other than two paths that didn't go deeper down and one that did were the strange green doggy faced creatures munching on whatever plants or mushrooms growing there. They gave her odd looks but just minded their business and continued to graze. Next spot had multiple small lava pools and two were branching paths with one that meant another big jump.

There were some mean reddish snake bird worm things that tried to bite or whack her with their tail. She clobbered them multiple times with her umbrella before they got the hint and ran. This time the child decided to take the side path instead of a large jump. Big mistake on her part.

The room was pretty with a huge amber column at the center that was in a beehive like formation and more smaller red ones that added extra support. Bright sapphire blue crystals and ruby red crystals sticking from the ground in a roundish rectangular form. If only she noticed that the odd growing gold stone on the ground was a monster's tail.

"Aaaaaaah!!!" Echoed the screams of a little girl through a mountainous deep section of the volcano. Tiny stream of water pouring down the cliffs to the large molten ground below shook with the tremors of heavy footsteps. The little purple hatted girl ran across the reddish dirt as a large beast followed her relentlessly.

It was a large reptilian creature that could honestly be mistaken as a dinosaur from the powerful looking legs but underdeveloped tiny arms. Its face was round dark brownish scaled except for its huge orangish color jaw, from its head to the very long rounded tail were large flat topped amber crystals that were positioned in the way tires are to leave tracks, thick muscled legs with sharp claws and bright green eyes that burned with rage.

The 25 ft tall brute looked a bit beaten up but the little girl would admit personally that she had nothing to do with it. Of course it didn't matter since the lizard monster was still angry and probably cranky for her poking its tail with an UMBRELLA. If she ever got out of here alive, she would never come back...maybe.

The giant then let out a painted cry as the ground shook hard nearly making the child lose her footing. She flipped around to understand what happened. Giant lizard thing had been slammed to the ground by someone covered in armor and holding what looked to be a sword and shield. The shield part slammed into the mean beast's head.

The armor was a bright crimson with light summer colors such as orange and gold fitted to its feudal samurai look. Chest plate had an orange triangle coming from the bottom as it pointed to two cogs on the separate sides that were connected by a thick white rope, a giant red cape with big fancy and fluffy gold rims, red shield shaped plates covering a gold rim red skilt, red armor gauntlets and boots but the cool thing was the mask.

It was faceless with eye slots but large red horns that went back and curved at the end but also orange along with a large white mane that was in the back. The shield was lustrous ruby with a gold wheel on the surface and a cog with two golden hour hands at the center. And the sword had a crystalline blade that started before ending in a reddish violet at tip and punk looking half gold claw hilt to a silver handle.

Eyes from the helmet looked at her before the masked man pulled his helmet a bit to show Kahtal's face. "You're the little girl I met in Kokoto! How did you get into the Volcanic Hollow?!" He cut off his words when the monster or Uragaan began to move underneath him. The man bashed the beast's head with his shield before getting into its face.

It immediately flinched upon the pair of eyes glaring back into its own. They weren't of a man but of a beast. Bigger, meaner and absolutely powerful. The glare of an Alpha. "You better stay down and don't try anything. So much as harm a hair on that little girl's head then consider your life forfeit. Now sit!" Voice was heavy as steel and the tone brimming with pure dominance.

Uragaan shivered violently before seating itself to the floor once Kahtal stepped off the beast's head. He gave the large brute a glance before sheathing both his blade and shield onto his back. Then the silverette turned to the most impossible thing to run around in a volcano. The little girl who had looks of awe in her eyes now lost it upon the look she was getting from the hunter.

"What are you doing here? This isn't a safe place for people much less little girls. Especially ones that somehow managed to have a Uragaan chase them. The species isn't called Burst Hammer Wyvern for no reason." Kahtal spoke pointing at the specific cowering dragon behind him.

"I wanted to see you! You gave me my Time Piece back so I thought you wanted to be my friend! And I got here from my ship since it said you were somewhere around here." There was a bunch of childish pep and cheer to her voice like it was natural despite the guilty look on her face. Or the fact she was nervously poking her fingers together.

Now he had a lot of questions but knew that the inside of a volcano wasn't the place to discuss it. "Let's talk about it once we're back at the camp on top of the volcano. And you!" The Burst Hammer Wyvern flinched upon Kahtal pointing his finger at the beast. It was still scared at the much smaller human man.

"You are being relocated to an island unreachable to human civilization. A winged companion of mine will be picking you up so stay put! Behave then I'll forget about you trying to trample a little girl and maybe add in some yummier ores than the ones down here." The knowledge of the alpha human forgiving him, a new home and chance of a tasty treat had the Uragaan positively complacent with his current position.

Kahtal took out what looked to be a signal gun before firing a green smoke round into the air. The flare spilling green smoke out into the volcano's entrance paired with a lime like scent. Once that flare was shot, Kahtal picked up the little girl and hoisted her on his back. He then took off ignoring the sound of large flapping wings or the sound of shock in the other room that he left the Uragaan in.

The volcano top had a small makeshift camp settled a good space from the mouth to the heated mountain. A simple tent that provided cover from the sun for a large mattress, two large crates with one blue and the other red, and a few makeshift fence blockades. Kahtal was now looking at the little child with a ludicrous look.

"So your name is Hat Kid, and you're an alien refugee from another world. You came here because a Timepiece, which is the fuel for your ship somehow crashlands in Kokoto village. After I returned it to you, you tried to find me again so I can be your friend and hangout with you." The hunter questioned while holding his helmet in his right hand.

The little girl or Hat Kid sat on the queen sized mattress next to Kahtal while she told him her tale. She was nodding at every inquiry he had got from the hat wearing child. "Normally I treat that kind of stuff as Congala crap if I haven't taken in consideration the evidence. A glowing hourglass with no sand isn't normal, a little girl managing to get into a place that is blacklisted to Low Rank Hunters or the fact you got to one of the deepest levels, and NOT die from lethal heatstroke."

Hat Kid looked a bit sheepish when he brought back her little volcano adventure but was glad he did believe her. Kahtal then stood up from the bed and looked at the alien child. "My friend is taking the Uragaan to a new habitat and won't be back for an hour. Might as well take me to your ship." He did think her insane attempt to find him should at least be rewarded...only this one time.

A big smile grew on her face before she ran over and took his free hand immediately. The older man would admit he didn't expect the both of them to float before shooting off into the sky. They were going up so fast that he saw the darkness of space and the shining stars. And like a light switch, Kahtal wasn't outside the volcano but now in a little girl's very odd bedroom.

The odd things being the sea of pillows a good distance from the bed, lights on the ceiling, glass screen viewing the vacuum of space, odd candles that sit by said pit or the giant burnt noodle reading at the top of the staircase by said pillow sea. "Hey! I heard that!" A sheepish look crossed his face. The last part he accidentally spoke out loud.

The offended noodle had a glowing yellow face found on children's jack o' lanterns: circular eyes and the big childish mouth with two fangs, a mane of dark purple that was the same color as his body, spindly arms that ended with two finger ovenmitts that clearly was hiding claws and a long spindly tail making his height around 20 ft long.

"You know kiddo I don't know what's worse. The fact you brought a pecking knight of all things on board or the fact he was rude to me: the all handsome, powerful and soul eating, Snatcher! It's also really rude to insult the dead." The now named specter or Snatcher said while his last bit was deadpan unlike the bolster before in his distorted echo voice.

Kathal's response to this was a raised eyebrow. "First off, I didn't mean to say that out loud so sorry for that. Second, why tell me that you are a soul eating ghost when I'm a 'knight' to you. And third, the proper term is Monster Hunter not Monster Slayer. Unless your causing trouble on my planet that make people send out a request to hunt you, then I won't stab you with my blade and relocate your hide." The mortal man listed with his fingers and pure nonchalance.

The ghost set aside his book so he wouldn't lose in the sea of bed material before slithering over to the armored man. Size difference between them was now clearer than before but Kahtal still had a passive look on his face. "And don't you have quite a snarky side to ya, kiddo." Snatcher chuckles while Kahtal glared back.

"The name is Kahtal Shinsu and I'm a 32 year old man. I am definitely not a kid because last I checked, children don't have an 7'2 body with an eight pack." The silverette's rebuttal didn't make the ghost's smile go away. It only made it more mischievous looking as the 20 ft noodle laughed.

"And I'm over 300 years old which makes ya a mere baby in comparison. An eight pack huh? Definitely the type of muscle for some dirty work back in my forest!" Snatcher said while placing an arm around the hunter's shoulder in a 'buddy' manner. Hat Kid then tugged on his leg for giving him an inquisitive look.

The 'What were you doing' look obviously wanting to know why he was in the Volcanic Hollow in the first place. "I had a job there. My client wanted me to gather 30 pieces of coal from the volcano. There was a bonus quest to deal with that Uragaan who was chasing my hatted companion here." Spotting what looked to be a chalkboard, Kahtal strolled over to it.

Taking a piece of chalk, he sketched out a fully detailed picture of the mentioned Burst Hammer Wyvern minus the injuries from before, all in the span of a minute and the word Uragaan next to it. Snatcher floated over and looked at the image with interest. "Sure looks like quite a brute! No wonder the kiddo looked ready to drop. Gave her a run for her money! Ah Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha!" He then looked at Kahtal.

"This was also an extra part of the current job description? That makes you an even better contractor for me to hire! Honestly there is some work in my domain that needs a more refined touch than Hat Brat there. She has a habit of making quite the mess." The little girl in question gave him a raspberry.

"Well, you'll need to have a request paper ready. Usually I have a Kinsect deliver me jobs to my home since I'm more of a freelance hunter." Kahtal then drew at the bottom of the board a peculiar bug of sorts. It looked like a scarab but the wings and size were wrong.

"Really now? I don't know where you live but I can mark it down if you take this back." The man didn't expect for the ghost's hand to ignite in blue fire. Or that fire to form a dark purple version of what the kinsect he drew but had the same jack o' lantern smile Snatcher has on their wings. Kahtal would mark it to be creation magic.

"This Kinsnatch here will be delivering any jobs I have for ya. And a bit more." The last bit was a whisper before Snatcher put the magic made insect in the hunter's hands. He looked at the odd insect and immediately knew this was going to be trouble.

Lucky thing was he got dropped off the same place he was before allowing his own alien abduction. And his current ride had just returned. Bad news was how damn aggravating that purple ghost was going to be in the future.

Hey everyone! Sorry not updating the blog for quite a bit. Life is crazy and honestly been trying to handle with some changes to my home.

This story is an experimental crossover using Monster Hunter and A Hat in Time. I wanted to try my hand at writing a Monster Hunter fic but also wanted that kind of vibe you get exploring in different chapters like you do for a A Hat In Time.

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Stay safe and healthy folks!

This is the armor used and the monster Uragaan!

#crossover #oc #ahit #ahit hat kid #ahit snatcher #snatcher #hat kid #a hat in time #monster hunter #oc hunter #fanfic #uragaan

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tootiredforyourshit3963 · 4 years

Text

A Small Obstacle - A Destiny Drabble

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@azrakel09

Request: A Ghost being mistaken for a shiny ball of yarn by a playful cat

Word count: 1.5K-ish

When I tell you I screeched while reading this request-

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The ghost let out a long sigh as he continued to scan the remnants of a small town just outside the Reef. Today marked the third year that he had spent searching the solar system for his Guardian; he had been to Titan, Io, Nessus, The Moon, Earth, Mercury, Venus, Mars, and even The Dreaming City for Traveler’s sake! But he had yet to find his companion, and he was starting to lose hope that he ever would.

“No, you will not lose hope. My Guardian is out there, I know it.” The Ghost muttered to himself in hopes of raising his spirits, if only slightly.

Fallen screeched in the distance, and Ghost flinched slightly. He hated being out in the open like this, it never ended well, and he had scars to prove it. His red and white shell -gifted to him by the Speaker himself- was covered in dirt and talon marks from when he was attacked by a hawk in the EDZ just weeks prior. It took him a full day to lose the damned bird and cracked his shell in the process.

“So much for peaceful adventures” He had grumbled to himself after finding refuge in a rundown church inhabited by Devrim Kay, who was happy to listen to the Ghost’s rambling while sipping a cup of tea.

You wouldn’t expect a Ghost to tire out quickly, I mean, they were made to scour the world in search of their Guardians, right?

Wrong.

Many people assume that Ghosts are just machines that just go-go-go all the time. But in truth, they have souls just like every other living creature. They require rest and time to recuperate after a stressful day.

And quite frankly? He was exhausted.

Traveler, it had been so long since he was last able to visit the city. The small Ghost longed to be back in the comforting presence of the light, surrounded by fellow ghosts who understood the pain of not being able to find their Guardians. He would give just about anything to snuggle into a warm blanket -usually provided by the Tower Staff- and sleep this horrid week away.

The faint sound of water pulled him from his thoughts and caused the Ghost to perk up slightly. Rounding the next corner, he found a small waterfall that softly flowed down the cliff-side and into a small pond below.

The Ghost quickly flew into the downpour, letting the water wash away all the dirt and grime of the past few months in mere seconds. Allowing himself to relax, he focused on the sound of the small forest around him, finding some form of comfort in this strange world. After a few moments, he forced himself to leave the water and continue searching the town.

The droplets left his shell looking sparkly and clean, leaving the Ghost feeling refreshed and filled with a bit of newfound confidence. But before continuing his search, his eye landed on a sizeable cat-like creature sitting peacefully on the lip of the small pond.

It had dark, fluffy blue fur that resembled the night sky -he could’ve sworn that it was sparkling with hidden stars- and misty purple eyes that looked an awful lot like the Reef.

“Oh, um…” The Ghost flew forward to meet the feline, lowering himself to eye level. “Hello there.”

The creature cocked its head to one side, its tail flicking back and forth as it studied his small form. He watched with unease as it tentatively rose one paw towards him as if to touch him.

“What are you- ACK!” The Ghost jumped, just narrowly missing the cat’s paw as it swiped at him.

He quickly flew back towards the water in hopes that it would be hesitant to follow. But Ghost’s dreams were shattered as it walked right out into the water without a care in the world.

“Hey, now, let’s talk this out.” He pleaded as the cat stalked towards him tauntingly.

It’s shoulder blades bobbed up and down and lowered itself closer to the ground before suddenly pushing off and swiping at his shell.

“That is very rude! You can’t just go knocking Ghosts out of the air-” Cutting him off mid-sentence, it pounced, lurching its body in the air and tackling his small form into the water below.

“Unhand me this instant!” Ghost demanded as the cat held him in between his paws, turning his shell over as if to examine him and occasionally smacking him as it would a ball of yarn.

With one last grunt of effort, he let out a small surge of light that knocked him out of the cat’s grasp. He must have miscalculated something because the wave sent him hurtling towards the waterfall. He braced himself, ready to smack the rocks behind it, but the impact never came. Instead, he passed straight through the water and into a hidden cave behind it.

After collecting himself, Ghost whirled around to the feline who had followed him into the water and was now sitting back on his haunches and grooming its left paw.

“You could have killed me!” He yelled, exasperated at the cat who simply paused and looked at him with -what seemed to be- an amused expression as he continued to rant.

“I’ve been doing nothing but search this solar system non-stop for the last three years. But never, never in all my days have I been hunted for such enjoyment! I just want to find my Guardian without being smacked around by some, some animal!” Before he could continue, a small pang of light pulsed throughout his being.

“Did you… feel that?” The Ghost spun around and took a good look at the cave.

He found himself amid an old hideout, filled with empty crates, a few lanterns -long since burned out- and some rifles that lined neatly against the far wall. The ceiling of the cave was overgrown with a type of moss that left it looking like a sky full of stars. But what caught his eye was a body that laid on the ground not too far from the entrance. It was a woman, dressed in Awoken Corsair armor and armed to the teeth. It was safe to assume that she had been dead for a long time.

Upon this sight, a surge of light flooded his consciousness, and he was filled with the urge to help this person. An invisible force seemed to pull him to her side, and when he got closer, it clicked.

This was a Guardian. This was his Guardian.

He glanced back at the cat who sat patiently, any sense of playfulness from before had vanished. The way it looked at him, it was almost like it led him here. Like it knew.

Shaking the thought out of his head, the Ghost focused back on the matter at hand. Floating a little closer, he reached out and tethered his light to the lifeless form before him and uttered one command; Eyes up, Guardian.

Tendrils of light encircled the Guardian, and they woke with a start, ripping the helmet off their head and doubled over coughing. The warmth immediately flooded her hollow blue cheeks, and her black hair was a tangled mess. But Ghost was too ecstatic to notice their struggle or care about their appearance. She had just come back from the dead, after all.

“Thank the Traveler, I found you! Finally!” He spun around in excitement before lowering next to her shoulder.

“Oh, uh. Are you okay?” He floated a little closer as his Guardian sat back and looked at him, confusion clouding her bright eyes.

“What…” She coughed again before continuing, “What happened?”

“I revived you.”

“I’m sorry,” she shook her head. “You did what?”

Ghost went on to explain everything he could about the light, the dark, the Traveler, and his lifelong search. As he did so, the cat decided to move from its spot and make its way towards the Guardian. Prompting to settle in her lap, it purred softly as she scratched it behind the ears.

Once he finished explaining, she paused -much to the cat’s dismay- and looked up at Ghost.

“So, let me get this right… I’m a ‘Guardian,’ and there are countless other beings like me who were brought back to life to fight in this battle between The Light and The Darkness with powers that were given to us by a giant orb in the sky?” She questioned.

“That ‘giant orb’ is called the Traveler; it created the Ghosts to find you all. But yes.”

“Okay… sounds legit,” she muttered to herself.

If Ghost could smile, he would be grinning ear-to-ear as he said, “I think it’s about time we got you to the Tower.”

----

“Can we bring the cat?”

“No.”

“Aw, but why not.”

“It mistook me for a chew toy, and I'd rather not be gnawed to bits.”

“Oh, common, please?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll get you a new shell first thing when we get back to the Tower.”

“...Fine.”

“Yay!”

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Hopefully that's along the lines of what you were thinking... I had a lot of fun writing this one.

Any who, feedback is greatly appreciated (and needed!)

have a good day, y’all

#ghost #destiny #destiny 2 #guardian #the young wolf #fanfic

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thedreammweaver · 4 years

Text

“Excuse me, um, I love you” (Gotham (TV) Ed x Returns Oswald, mild Ed x Max Shreck too cause 🤷🏽🤷🏽🤷🏽)

(A/N: stream R.E.M. by Ariana Grande, it’s all I listened to while writing this and it’s honestly a vibe.)

Warnings: Mild blood tw, talk about job/financial insecurity

Ed startled at the commotion, he’d only been half listening to the conversation going on to his right between Josh and the Penguin.

“Not a lot of reflective surfaces down in the sewer, huh?”

There was a long pause of over exaggerated laughter.

“Still, could be worse, my nose could be gushing blood.”

And then...

Ed hadn’t seen what happened but by the blood coming from Josh’s nose as Jen led him over to a desk and the same blood dripping from the penguin’s mouth it didn’t take him long to deduce. Ed bit back a smile despite himself, Josh had been an asshole to him many times, it was good to see him face some consequences finally. “Alright, everybody, back to work!” Max instructed as everyone the room awkwardly dispersed. “Let’s. Make. A mayor!” He finished before going over to the water cooler with the penguin. Ed couldn’t help but stare at the shorter man, he wished he could say it was just for his grotesque appearance but there was something else entirely that drew Ed in.

Ed looked up from his work when he noticed the figure standing in front of his desk. It was Max. “Yes, sir?” Ed asked, nervously flipping his pencil in his fingers under his boss’ gaze. “Eddie, could you be a dear and take some tea or something up to Mr. Cobblepot? Make him feel welcome, you know. Thanks.” He didn’t wait for Ed to respond before he walked away. Ed chewed his lip and watched his boss for a moment before getting to his assigned task.

Ed was nervous as he ascended the stairs with a tray of tea and snacks. He tried to stop his hands from shaking as it was making the teapot he was carrying rattle. As he entered the loft above the rented campaign building through the support beams Ed could see the penguin at his desk quill in hand writing away. Ed forced himself towards the desk “Mr. Shreck, asked me to bring you this.” He said trying desperately not to fumble his words, as he set the tray down on an empty spot. Before he could withdraw his hands penguin grabbed one of them, Ed froze completely. Penguin put down his quill and used the flipper that wasn’t gripping Ed’s hand to caress it. “You have such gorgeous hands.” He practically purred. Ed’s face went bright red “.....T-T-Thank you, sir.” Penguin released Ed’s hand from his grip and resumed his writing as if nothing happened. Ed tried to keep his cool as he awkwardly headed towards the stairs but he was interrupted by the penguin’s gruff voice

“What’s your name?”

Ed tensed up “Oh, I- I’m just an intern, sir-“

“I asked for your name not your employment status.”

Ed’s face went red again and he idly adjusted his glasses “It’s Edward..Nygma.”

“Edward with the pretty hands...got it.” Penguin chuckled. There was a pause between the two men “You can go now.” Penguin clarified. Ed nodded awkwardly and left the room.

Ed tossed and turned in his bed. He couldn’t stop thinking about his earlier encounter with the penguin, he should’ve been grossed out but the man’s flippers were surprisingly warm, calloused but soft at the same time. He replayed the feeling of them around his hand over and over in his mind despite himself. Ed began dozing off to the thought of how warm the rest of the penguin must be, how soft and secure it must be in his arms and how badly he wanted to be cradled in the short man’s chest...Ed’s eyes snapped open and he sat up in bed. It’d been hard enough coming to terms with the crush he had on his boss but this?? Daydreaming about being held by a mysterious bird man? Afraid of what he might dream about if he did sleep, Ed pushed off his weighted blanket and got out of bed, determined to distract himself from any and all thoughts of the penguin.

He regretted not sleeping the moment Max told him he’d be at the campaign building doing overtime that night though he didn’t say what for. For now Ed was stuck listening to Max and Bruce Wayne drone on about power surpluses and other things. Though he was tired Ed was elated to be filling in for Selina Kyle as Max’s executive assistant, something in him always hoped something would happen to her so he could take over and be around Max all the time. He coveted Miss Kyle’s position but luckily she hadn’t been to work for a few days. Ed leaned against the wall trying not to doze as he half listened to the conversation going on in front of him.

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna fight you on this, Max. See, I’ve already spoken to the mayor and we see eye-to-eye so-“

“Mayors come and go. Blue bloods tire easy. You think you could go fifteen rounds with Mohammed Shreck?”

“Well, I guess we’re gonna find out. Of course, I don’t have a crime boss like Cobblepot in my corner so it might-“

Ed perked up at the mention of Oswald, So did Max.

“Crime boss?!?” He stood up and began circling the large meeting table over to Bruce “Shows what you know, Mister.”

Bruce stood up as well as Max continued his rant. “Oswald is Gotham’s new golden boy. If his parents hadn’t 86’d him you two might have been bunkies at prep school.”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Oswald controls the red triangle gang. I can’t prove it but we both know-“

“Wayne, I will not stand for mudslinging in this office.” The door opened behind him revealing Selina, he was too caught up in his rant to notice. “If my usual assistant was here she would have already escorted you out to-“

“Anywhere he wants,” Selina interrupted strutting in. Ed glared at her before exiting, sensing he was no longer needed.

Ed was still fuming when he caught up with Selina in the hallway later “Where have you been??”

“None of your business.” She mumbled, walking away from him, Ed followed.

“Actually it is, as an employee of Mr. Shreck I find it concerning when a fellow employee drops off the face of the earth and suddenly swoops back in like she owns the place-“

Selina stopped. “Look, Ed, no need to exact your jealous rage on me I’m...quitting soon, then you’ll have Maxie all to yourself.”

“I don’t appreciate what you’re implying, Miss Kyle.”

Selina scoffed “You imply it enough yourself.” Ed took a moment to actually look at her, she was much more disheveled than how he usually saw her. “What happened, why are you all..different?” Selina sighed “Now that’s really none of your business, riddle boy.”

Ed gripped the banister of the spiral staircase that lead up to the loft where the penguin resided. Max had told him that Penguin wanted to see him for something, that was the only information he’d been given. Now he stood there, too nervous to ascend, nervous because he wanted to see Oswald, desperately. Ed steeled himself and forced himself up the stairs.

Penguin was writing again though he was in much better clothes than the dirty union suit Ed had seen him in previously and a second chair had been moved by the side of his desk. Ed stepped only a few feet away from the stairs “Mr. Shreck said y-you wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes..and call me Oswald, I insist. All I want from you is your company, it gets terribly quiet up here.” Ed was a bit taken aback, most people told him to shut up but here was Oswald wanting him to speak. Oswald gestured the empty chair “Come over here, would ya, I don’t bite.”

A nervous huff of laughter escaped Ed “Josh’s nose would disagree.” Oswald sighed “Ah, yes. Poor choice of words. I promise not to bite you then.” There was a soft tone to Oswald’s voice that made Ed want to leap into his arms and stay there. Ed awkwardly shuffled over to the chair and sat down. There were a few moments where the only sound was of Oswald’s quill against the paper as Ed struggled for something to say. “Did...uh-did you know that male emperor penguins keep their eggs warm by balancing them on their feet?” Ed kicked himself after the fact fell out of his mouth, Oswald was raised by penguins of course he knew that. “Yes, I did.” There was a note in Oswald’s voice that indicated he was impressed which made Ed struggle not to beam. “Some of them can swim at over ten miles per hour, and dive down over eight-hundred feet with that beautiful plumage that camouflages them from above and below the...water.” Oswald stopped himself, a slight blush spreading across his face “Forgive me, they’re truly amazing creatures..” There was a hint of vulnerability in his voice which made Ed jump to reassure the man. “It’s okay! Usually I’m the one rambling.” He chuckled, oddly feeling at ease with Oswald. “There was another thing about penguins I heard-“ Ed was cut off by a shiver that ran up his spine, he wrapped his arms around himself. “Jeez, it’s...cold in here.”

“Hold on.” Oswald put down his quill and got up, at first Ed assumed he was going to go turn the AC down but instead he waddled over to wrap Ed in a hug. Ed froze once again as Oswald once again invaded his personal space. Oswald felt even better than Ed had pictured, sublimely soft and warm. This must be what being in the womb felt like, Ed thought, so secure and cozy. It had only been a few seconds but Ed felt like screaming when Oswald pulled away and returned to his seat, he’d wanted the hug to last forever.

“That better?”

Ed adjusted his glasses and hoped he wasn’t blushing as much as he thought he was “Y-Yes, thank you.”

“So you were saying?” Oswald asked as he resumed writing. Ed was distracted by the bat signal going up outside the window before he could compose himself enough to answer. He accidentally let a disgruntled huff at the light let slip. “What is it?” Oswald asked not looking up. “Oh- just...Batman being called for something I guess..while Gordon sits on his ass doing nothing.” Ed mumbled.

“You sound upset.” Curiosity was apparent in Oswald’s voice. Ed shrunk into himself a bit “..I...I’m not supposed to talk about it. It’s not very ‘proud Gotham citizen’ of me.”

“Oh, please, do tell. You’ve piqued my interest.” Ed couldn’t help but oblige as it sounded like Oswald would actually listen. He got up and went over to the window. “I work at the GCPD when I’m not doing stuff for Max, or at least I think I work there.”

“Oh?”

“They let Batman handle most of the cases now, all the aspects of them...even the forensics.. They barely call me in anymore. Thankfully Mr. Shreck started paying me when I got laid off but...uh, all I see when I look at that symbol in the sky is another month of back rent..” Ed finished grimly. “If something happened to Miss Kyle then of course Max would probably make me executive assistant,” Ed sighed a bit too wistfully “and I could quit the GCPD but that’s not happening I suppose, not for a while anyways.”

“Even on the off chance I don’t become mayor, I’d hire you, you wouldn’t have to worry about any of that shit anymore.”

Ed spun back around to the desk “Really??...Why?”

“I can tell you’re smart, you’re nice to talk to, you’d be a delight to just have around.” Ed blushed at being called a delight, he went back to his chair to sit. “Thank you, sir, that would be-......wait, I have to ask..are you a..crime boss?” Oswald scoffed “Now where did you hear that from?”

“Bruce Wayne.”

Oswald rolled his eyes “Of course...what if I was?” It didn’t take Ed long to answer, he felt strangely like he could be candid with the shorter man. “If you were...I might be more inclined to accept a job offering, I’m starting to think the criminals in this city have the right idea...”

“Good to know..” Oswald said smugly. Max had been Ed’s end goal for so long but now he was already thinking of him as just a stepping stone to the real prize. Ed held back a devilish grin as he shivered, this time on purpose. Oswald looked up “Cold again? What am I going to do with you?” he chuckled. ‘Anything you want, Mr. Cobblepot,’ Ed thought ‘Anything you want.’

#oswald cobblepot #edward nygma #nygmobblepot #riddlebird #the penguin #the riddle #batman returns au

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marlynnofmany · 4 years

Text

The First Time Traveler to Survive -- Chapter 2

I’m back with the second installment of the accidental space adventures, in which the Good Omens influences remain pretty obvious.

We get to meet more of the crew! The captain is my favorite. And no, there is nothing else even vaguely resembling a human on the ship. (*cough* Humans Are Weird *cough*)

Let me know if you want in on the tag list. On with the show!

First chapter Next chapter More on Patreon!

~~~

Azalea didn’t know which question to ask first. What other options were there, aside from human? Did this “ship” sail oceans or solar waves? Was the relatively normal-looking woman in front of her not also human? Who and what was she waving at?

All she managed were a few strangled syllables before figures appeared among the trees below, answering one question. Or really, two.

Spaceship it is, Azalea thought at the sight of the bizarre creatures. None were remotely human.

The one in front looked like a feathered pterodactyl, with most of its pink-and-gray feathers pruned down to nubs. It walked on its wing-knuckles at a pace that left the other aliens jogging after.

One was similar to the first, just smaller and colored like a sunset margarita. One was large and built like a tank — or more accurately, like a photo of a rhino that had gotten caught walking in a panorama shot. It had too many legs. Some looked like arms. And it either had green fur on its back, or it was wearing a fuzzy sweater over gray skin.

The last two bringing up the rear were actually rolling along: tumbling balls of brownish something, which finally opened up into little scaly beasties with tentacle-trunk faces. Those grasping apendages reminded Azalea of vending machine toys from her childhood: sticky hands made for flinging at windows and friends. Azalea had never really liked those toys. Nor did she appreciate the realization now that the color she was trying to match to these creatures’ scaly backs was that of an Australian Cockroach.

Both of the creatures wore shoes. Bright blue things that sparkled. Azalea told herself not to hold any incidental creepiness against them.

“Up here!” repeated the woman next to her, waving again. “I have no idea how she got in!”

Azalea murmured, “That makes two of us.”

A voice of command called from below, deep and croaking. “Get her down here.”

Azalea watched the spearlike beak move. That translation fruit was really something. The noises sounded birdish, dinosaurian… but they were words that she understood.

The higher-pitched grunts from the little rolling fellows were likewise understandable, and highly irritated. Apparently everyone wanted her down at ground level.

Carmine was already perched on the railing. “Coming down the quick way?”

“Um, no thank you,” Azalea said. She gestured toward the large backpack. “I’d better take the stairs. I’ll, um, meet you down there.”

“Nonsense.” Carmine hopped down in one fluid motion and led the way toward the staircase. “Onward.”

Azalea grabbed her backpack straps and hurried after, feeling vaguely self-conscious of the cloud of skirts and awkwardness that she must appear. Especially on the heels of that sort of confident strut.

Yes, of course, that’s the perfect thing to focus on, she thought in exasperation as she clattered down the stairs. Worry that you’re not as cool as the dashing stranger, when you’re on a spaceship and everyone is aliens. Nice priorities. Well done.

Then she was at the bottom, and surrounded by those aliens, who were much taller up close. The big pterodactyl in particular.

“How did you get onboard?” the creature demanded, its voice vibrating through Azalea’s bones. It fixed her with one piercing blue eye. “Are there more of you?”

“I’m sorry,” Azalea said. “I don’t know how I got here.” She swallowed. “I was supposed to appear on my planet, not your ship.”

The pterodactyl rotated its head to look at her with the other eye. “Really,” it said. “Are there more of you?”

“No, just me,” Azalea said. “As far as I know.” A fleeting thought about duplicate timelines didn’t bear dwelling on.

The smaller creatures (crewmembers?) were chattering away with loud opinions. Other voices chimed in, and Azalea couldn’t attempt to keep them straight. But she could understand them.

“Risk! Hazard! Complication!”

“Will muck things up! Get in the way!”

“Did you see it arrive? Her, you said?”

“We’re wasting time.”

“Can’t be trusted. Shouldn’t be trusted.”

“Carmine, you never told me your people could have fur that pale. It’s lovely.”

A human voice joined the cacophany with an audible smile. “It is, isn’t it? And so curly!”

Azalea put a hand to the mess of blonde hair that surely needed a brushing already. She wasn’t sure what to make of any of this.

The enormous beak again dominated her vision. “Tell me how you physically got here.”

Azalea did her best to explain without pointing at the time machine in clear view. The last thing she wanted was for it to be confiscated. But, given the way she was easily surrounded, there wasn’t much she could do about that. All she could do was say in vague terms that she’d been testing an invention that was supposed to put her somewhere on her own planet, not here.

“We’ll continue this later,” the pinkish dinosaur-bird said, closing its beak with a snap. “For now, consider yourself in polite custody. The degree of politeness depends on you. Hand over the belongings and follow.”

Azalea tried not to panic, clutching her backpack straps.

A hand on her shoulder made her jump. “It’s just a safety measure,” Carmine assured her, eyebrows expressive above the goggles. “Since you’re a dangerous unknown and all.” She held out her hands, waiting.

Azalea glanced at the far more intimidating sets of eyes currently staring her down, and shrugged out of the backpack. She considered claiming the time machine was something cybernetic that she needed to live. They could probably tell that was a lie, though. She hadn’t seen any high-tech phaser/scanner doohickies, but they were probably around somewhere.

At the urging of the smaller aliens, she removed the time machine too. Carmine took both.

Sure as hell not going to mention the pockets, she thought rebelliously. No one asked.

The pterodactyl ordered her forward, on the heels of the two rolling balls of impatience. That put the giant spear-beak right behind her, which was mildly terrifying. Carmine dropped back to walk with the rhino of many legs and the other birdosaur.

“March.”

Azalea marched. She looked back over her shoulder as often as she dared, hoping the probably-human was being careful with her things. As far as she could tell, Carmine was just carrying them without opening anything. Sauntering with a smug expression, but not opening a single pouch.

A new doorway loomed in front of Azalea when she turned back to face front, this one with a pale green color scheme. Everything else about it looked the same. It let into a complicated labyrinth of hallways and closed doors, everything built with an architectural eye that was just subtly wrong. The walls were too far apart, the edges too rounded, and those odd shelves were everywhere with nothing on them.

Then the group paused while the dino-bird unlocked a door via retina scanner, and Azalea was startled by a pair of legs appearing on the ledge beside her.

It was Carmine, still carrying Azalea’s things. Leaning against the wall like this was a perfectly normal place to stand. She didn’t look down at Azalea’s stare, and it was impossible to say whether her eyes had moved or not.

Azalea was really starting to wonder about the goggles.

Then the door opened, and she had other things to focus on. Like the crates and tubs that the rhino-person was muscling out into the hallway, and the large flightless wing that was suddenly behind her, giving the gentlest of shoves.

“Inside, if you please.”

The room was empty, and not much bigger than a closet. Azalea dragged her feet. “Can I have my things? I won’t make trouble. Please, they’re all I have, and I need them.”

There was rampant grumbling from the usual suspects. The pterodactyl, who was obviously a leader of some sort, made the executive decision to go through the pack for dangerous items before handing it over. The little grumblers with the grabby hands volunteered, but to Azalea’s relief, Carmine claimed the honor.

Then Azalea had to watch while the group of spacefaring strangers looked over every single thing she had packed, from tools to undergarments. They were quick, obviously on a schedule of their own, but they were also thorough. At least they packed things back in approximately the right pockets.

And they let her keep the time machine. Azalea took it with relief, not even taking offense at the rhino’s declaration that it was “non-threatening technology.” His voice sounded like whale song, which would have been hilarious under other circumstances.

Azalea found herself once more in possession of her belongings, and shut unceremoniously into a storage room. There was a window, thankfully, paneled in something that wasn’t glass. It let through too much air and sound.

Maybe it’s a force field, Azalea thought as the aliens promised to get back to her eventually. Or the toenail of some giant space beast. I don’t know. What is happening today?

“I didn’t get a chance to ask,” drawled a voice from the hallway.

Azalea’s attention snapped up to see Carmine still there, while the others had left.

“What planet are you from?”

Azalea breathed out a long breath. “Earth.”

Carmine made a lopsided shrug. “Don’t know that one. Is it far?”

“I really couldn’t say.”

“Hm. Pity. I guess we’ll find out.”

Azalea was about to ask what that meant when a tone sounded three times, like a calmer version of a school bell. Before she could ask what that meant, the lights dimmed.

“Finally,” Carmine said, taking off the goggles and spinning them casually. “I thought today would never end.” She fixed Azalea with a grin that was probably meant to be conspiratorial, but Azalea didn’t notice anything past those eyes.

They were a fiery gold, with slit pupils that were very, very inhuman.

“Well, see you in the morning.” Carmine didn’t react to Azalea’s own wide-eyed stare, instead turning with a wave to make her loose-jointed way down the hall. She stepped easily up onto the secondary walkway and disappeared around the corner.

~~~

The next chapter is here, and there’s more on Patreon.

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project-ohagi · 4 years

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Kyoka Jirou x Reader {Monster AU}

Buy me a coffee!! <3

The wind ruffled your tails as you stalked further and further into the night. Your breathing was laboured and crimson cuts littered your body. You couldn't understand why they were pursuing you; it wasn't as though you had been doing anything wrong. In fact - you were simply undertaking your daily routine, when, quite suddenly, you felt something graze your glorious fur. It prickled, and you snarled, turning around to check your surroundings. You failed to see the snipers, the smaller guns, the silver bullets and the other objects gleaming with malice. You started backwards. Your ears twitched.

Another shell skirted past your neck. You whimpered. This wasn't supposed to happen; your forest was a peaceful place, riddled with multicoloured fairies, large lakes which sheltered a variety of creatures, including Kappa, magnificent trees that were also home to a few different species, and of course, your family. You lived in a clearing, far from where you were now, flanked by trees and foliage, bodies of water and special barriers. You refused to lead these intruders to your comfortable habitat. You cared too deeply for your fellow Kitsune.

You could have transformed right in front of these malignant individuals, yet you didn't. You wouldn't give them any more reason to follow, to hunt, to kill. Your nine, flowing tails were prime targets though, and very sensitive. You obtained your final tail a mere two weeks ago, when you finally turned one thousand years of age. It would bring shame on your family if you were to die now, at the hands of these evil humans. You bounded further into the thick forest, attempting to lose your pursuers at every twist and turn. However, for some reason, they always seemed capable of finding you. Perhaps it was the distinct scent you gave off, that was different from all the other forest-dwelling beings, or maybe it was simply because your natural form was far too difficult to hide. You decided that it would be in your best interest to find a safe spot, transform, and get out as fast as possible. You didn't quite know why these people were here, intruding on sacred land, but they were both annoying and frightening. You also weren't sure why they were using such primitive weapons - surely humans these days had powers? You could attest to having seen as much with your own eyes.

As you were pondering this, you spotted an opening - a little space beyond some shrubbery, with a forbidding river cutting off the path. Thankfully, you were friendly with all the water spirits and monsters, so getting across wasn't going to be a problem. You glanced back, not seeing your attackers, although you could still hear the chinks of their metal boots on the lush forest floor. Your heart was racing.

There was a familiar face beside the river; it was a Kappa with whom you were close. You signalled the forthcoming danger. Your friend nodded, not seeming fazed in the least - they were very good with deception, and had a hard head. They could cover for you until you were across the river. You thanked the stars that you were able to swim.

You crossed with ease, emerging on the other side with a dripping coat. Throwing one final, grateful look at the Kappa, you turned and bolted. You ran for around another twenty minutes, making sure to put as much distance between yourself and the intruders as you could. However, your legs grew increasingly tired, and soon enough, they buckled. You fell to the ground with a thud. The earth shook, causing all the loose leaves and creatures to jump and scurry away. Your breaths were shallower now, as you could finally focus on regulating them. You were breathing through your nose, still reluctant to trust the peaceful atmosphere. Once you had regained most of your strength, you adorned your human form. You forgot to do it earlier, but your other plan had worked like a charm. (H/c) locks flowed from atop your head, caressing your face like a silk handkerchief. Your eyelashes fluttered, revealing bright (e/c) eyes. On your body was a simple, snowy-white dress. You couldn't exactly control what sort of clothing materialised - you hadn't yet mastered this ability. You knew your mother could do that; she was a very experienced Kitsune, after all (at least, that's what she wanted you to tell people).

There was another river in this place, but this one had a cascading waterfall and a bunch of giant rocks, perfect for sitting on. You wandered over to the biggest one, which was located directly underneath the waterfall. You perched there, feeling the water seep into your hair and roll down on to your dress.

"Hello?"

You cracked one eye open; the voice didn't seem threatening. In fact - whoever it was sounded lost. It was the voice of a young woman, not one of those hunters. She probably didn't even know they were also in the forest. You gazed at her, scanning her petite figure with an air of caution. She was beautiful, with choppy, purple hair and what looked like earphone jacks? You had seen those before, you remembered, somewhere in the city. Apparently humans plugged them into electronic devices in order to listen to things privately.

"Yes?" You asked, turning her full attention towards you.

A crimson blush appeared on her cheeks. "Hi, um...I'm kinda lost. Do you know how to get out of this forest?"

You slipped off the rock. "Why did you come here?"

She rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "I was here with my friends, but we got separated. I've been walking around for ages." She paused, looking at you in confusion. "Why are you here?"

"I was being followed, so I came here for sanctuary." You responded, circling her.

"Followed by who? Are they here now? Are you okay?" She became more frantic when she saw your wounds. "Oh my god, what happened? Did you get shot? You need to see a doctor or something! If you come with me, I can take you to Recovery Gir-"

You shook your head, pointing to the waterfall. "The water in this place is good for healing."

She didn't look convinced. "You're covered in blood and wounds!"

"You interrupted me."

She winced. "Sorry, but really, you should see someone about those."

"You should leave. You said you were lost?"

She expressed embarrassment again. "Yeah..."

"Then come. I can show you the way."

With an appreciative nod, she allowed you to lead her out of the clearing. You weren't quite certain what had compelled you to help this lost stranger, but she wasn't anything to be afraid of, and she was genuinely concerned for your wellbeing. Just remembering her words and tone was enough to make you shiver. It was something different and exciting - something you hadn't done before. Normally, you tried to stay far away from humans and the city. Your family didn't want anything to do with that lifestyle. Some beasts did opt to blend in with the humans, and actually, that included a lot of Kitsune. You had interacted with humans before, but it was never for very long. You weren't sure how long you could keep your human form. This girl was one of the first people you had met since gaining your ninth tail.

It seemed as though she wanted to say something; perhaps she would thank you again, or perhaps she thought the silence stifling. Either way, she was mumbling a lot, but your senses were more enhanced than a human's, and you picked up on every single word, despite how incoherent it might have sounded to one of her own kind. You halted, turning your head to glance at the girl. She hadn't noticed that you stopped, and you didn't move out of her way. She bumped into you, and her face immediately fell. She jumped backwards, waving her arms around. Her cheeks were even more flushed than earlier.

"Do you not like the silence?" You questioned, tilting your head.

She blinked twice. "No, t-that's not it."

You said nothing.

"Who are you...exactly?" She suddenly asked, cautiously.

There was another round of silence, and she figured that might have been something you didn't want to ask. She panicked - that could be seriously misconstrued. Here you were, trying to help her, and she was just being rude. However, after a few minutes of humiliating her, she saw a smile creep on to your features. It was the smallest thing, and had she not been paying attention, she definitely would have missed it.

"My name is (Y/n)." Your voice was soft, sweet, and she could almost hear the faintest giggle.

"O-Oh, cool." She gulped, extending a hand. "Kyoka Jirou."

You nodded. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too. Uh...are you about my age? What school do you go to?" She asked.

Humming, you wondered if you should lie - she would never know any different. Although, for some reason, you didn't really want to do that. It was a complicated thing to mull over. Humans could be so frail, yet so conniving, but you were convinced that this girl was pure. She looked like she would make a good mate, despite her genetics.

Eventually, you made a decision: "I'm afraid I don't attend a 'school'. We learn culture and the ways of life here, in the forest. I suppose this form does resemble your age, but in reality, I am a lot older."

"No way." She breathed. "Are you, like, a fairy or something?"

An amused sound caught in your throat. "Not quite."

"...What are you then?" She questioned, interest piqued.

"A Kitsune." You replied, trailing a hand across your back.

For less than a second, she saw a total of nine (h/c) tails, freely flowing in the crisp breeze. When you swiped your hand across them, they disappeared, and she was left wondering whether they had even been there in the first place, or if it was simply an illusion. Nevertheless, she found it really cool. She briefly thought that it might have been a quirk, but you mentioned being taught in the forest. Plus, the vibe you gave was otherworldly - like you weren't supposed to exist on this plane of reality. You were a fantastic beast; no wonder you were being followed.

She grinned. "Can you show me some tricks, then?"

[Word Count: 1738]

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #boku no hero x reader #mha kyoka #kyoka jiro #kitsune #monster au #kyoka jiro x reader #female reader

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recurring-polynya · 5 years

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You might have noticed that I am more than a little obsessed with @kaickos‘s Squad 6 Guard Dog and All-Round Good Boy Milo. She was kind enough to let me write a fluffy little story about him. It is not 100% consistent with the beautiful comic she is drawing about him, because we were working in parallel and great minds work alike, but maybe not perfectly alike. Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this over my Thanksgiving weekend. (Seriously, BEHOLD HIM )

Shinigami’s Best Friend (AO3 | ff.net)

Squad 6 acquires a guard dog.

Rated T because apparently I can’t even write some fluff about a dog without cussing. It’s Rukia’s fault, I swear!

Captain Kuchiki Byakuya stepped over the large lump lying across the entrance to the Squad Six Captains’ Office. He smoothed his haori as he sat down at his desk. He read three memos from his inbox before he very calmly said, “Lieutenant, what is that pile of damp fur doing in the doorway?”

His adjutant, Lieutenant Abarai Renji looked up from the mission report he was writing up. “Ah, he appears to be sleepin’, sir.”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. Eleven years of working with this lummox, and trying to get information out of Abarai was still an enormous trial. “But why, Abarai?”

“Well, he had a very exciting day, sir. ‘Spect he’s worn out.”

Byakuya squeezed his eyes shut. “Let us back up. What… what kind of animal is it? It is an animal, yes?”

“He’s a dog, sir.”

“Really ? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, sir. I thought you knew about dogs, sir. Pretty sure you mentioned havin’ a couple once or twice.”

“I do. I own three dogs, actually.” They were champion hunting dogs, of the finest bloodlines. They were creatures of pure muscle encased in velvet coats, noble, handsome, and perfectly obedient. They looked absolutely nothing like this sentient dust mop, who was currently snoring softly and kicking one hind leg frantically. “My dogs are kept in a kennel, where a dedicated servant looks after their needs. Why is this one in my office?”

“Oh, well, sir, I’m trying to find him a home. Returning the favor, as it were.”

“The favor.”

“He saved my life, sir.”

This is the point where Byakuya should have known he had lost, because Abarai delivered this phrase exactly as he did when he told the story of how he had met Rukia. Byakuya did not ask for further detail, but he received it anyway, in typical Abarai fashion.

Abarai had been leading a sweep of one of the higher numbered districts of Rukongai -- his own home district, as it happened-- for an elusive Hollow that had been terrorizing the area. He had noticed the dog investigating a rubbish heap as he himself investigated a blind alley. Finding it to be empty, he turned to leave, when the dog let out a frantic bark of singular intensity, a bark that imported the urgency of the situation so clearly that Abarai drew his sword immediately, just in time to block the razor-sharp claws of the Hollow that was materializing from the shadows behind him.

“The thing was apparently able to travel from shadow to shadow, sir, completely untraceable,” Abarai noted. “But the old fellow sniffed him right out and let me know! Once I spotted it, the Hollow wasn’t that tough. Got his mask in one blow, but if I hadn’t seen him in time… Well, sir, you might be holding lieutenant auditions this afternoon, is what I’m saying.”

The alleged canine rolled onto its back, its legs hanging in the air.

Everything about this story sounded like, as Rukia would say, “some bullshit.” But Byakuya had put up with Abarai for long enough that he knew it was a trap to dwell on how they had ended up in this situation. It was more important to focus on how they were getting out of it.

“You said you were going to find it a new home,” Byakuya pointed out. “When is that slated to commence?”

“Well, I needed to file my report, first,” Abarai explained. “And it’s gettin’ kinda late in the day. Figured I’d probably just take him home with me, send a few texts around. See if anyone’s looking for a dog.”

Something about this struck Byakuya as a bad idea, but he did not want to get drawn any further into this nonsense. “Very good, Lieutenant. While, obviously I am grateful for his… services… to the Sixth Division… I do not wish to see him tomorrow, do you understand?”

“Oh, you won’t, sir!”

- - -

It was the next morning.

Byakuya was here.

Abarai was here.

“The dog is here, Abarai,” Byakuya observed.

“His name is Milo,” Abarai announced.

“Why is the dog-- Milo? What kind of name is Milo? Dogs are supposed to have names like Sakura Bloom Cascade. Mountainside Granite Crest.”

“Are they? I dunno. Ichika picked it. I think it’s after a character in one of her books.”

The dog was much cleaner than it had been the day before. It had clearly been bathed, the tangles teased from its coat.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “So it is your dog now.”

“No, sir, course not! Rukia’d be pretty pissed, I think, if I did something like that without consulting her.”

“She is still in the Living World?”

“Yeah, for a few days, yet.”

“Ichika will grow attached to it, if she has not already.”

Abarai regarded him seriously. “Me and her had a talk about how he’s just a visitor and he can only stay for a few days. She understood.”

“She is very pragmatic,” Byakuya agreed. Amazingly so, all things considered. “So tell me again why the dog is back my office?”

“Oh, well, Iba said to bring him by, see if he gets along with Gorou.”

Byakuya wracked his brain. “Is Gorou the Seventh’s adjutant?”

Abarai gave out one of his barking laughs. “That’s a good one, sir, I’ll have to tell Iba that.” He abruptly realized that Byakuya wasn’t joking. “Uh, Gorou is Iba’s dog. He used to be Captain Komamura’s. He lives at the Seventh, the whole squad is real fond of him.”

“Perfect,” Byakuya replied. “I hope it goes wonderfully.”

- - -

When Byakuya returned from his afternoon theoretical tactics exercises (which is what he wrote on his agenda when he wanted to go play shogi with Captain Hitsugaya), there was a distinct absence of canine in the office.

“The meeting with Lieutenant Iba went well?” Byakuya asked.

“Oh, yeah, those two old boys got on like a house on fire,” Abarai announced.

“Excellent,” Byakuya replied. He had just gotten settled at his desk again, when there was a rap on the office door.

“Third Seat Ohno and one good dog!”

“Come in!” Abarai called cheerfully.

The door slid open, and Milo trotted into the office, followed by an uncharacteristically smiling Third Seat Ohno. The dog sat down neatly in front of Abarai’s desk, and barked exactly once.

“Captain’s in the office, Milo, you gotta go greet him first,” Abarai informed the dog, as though he was talking to a human.

Bizarrely enough, the dog stood up, ambled over to Byakuya’s desk and repeated the procedure. “Er, at ease,” Byakuya informed the creature.

The dog looked back, questioningly, at Renji.

“Good boy,” Renji informed him.

The dog then went over to the corner, took an extremely loud and messy drink from a water bowl that had not been present yesterday, and then flopped down on a pillow that had also not been there yesterday.

“How was he?” Renji addressed the Third Seat.

“Oh, he was great! He loved chasing the ball. Fourth Seat Kuchiki wanted to throw that frisbee thing he has, but I told him, I won fair and square.”

“He just has to work harder tomorrow,” Abarai suggested.

“He can try,” Ohno replied, a competitive sneer creeping onto his face. “Anything you need, sir?”

“Get those mission reports from the unseated guys organized and filed, would you?”

“No problem, sir!”

Ohno saluted smartly and left.

Byakuya stared at this spectacle.

Their Third Seat was a prissy, waspish stickler for rules. He despised messes. He despised deviations from the usual order. Primarily, he despised Abarai.

Byakuya could feel an elongated “whaaaaaaat?” forming in his mouth, but he somehow couldn’t manage to get it out.

However, after their many years of working together, Abarai was quite adept at reading his captain’s unspoken thoughts. “The seated officers just love Milo,” he provided. “I told Ohno and Kuchiki whoever won their spar could give him his afternoon runabout. Both of ‘em went in-all in for it, I was surprised. Wouldn’t’ve pegged Ohno for a dog guy. Learn something new every day, eh?”

“I thought the dog was going to live at the Seventh!” Byakuya finally managed.

“Oh, no, sir, they’ve already got a dog.”

Byakuya squeezed his eyes shut.

- - -

Over the next few days, Milo made a grand tour of the Gotei 13.

He had pleasant visits at both the Third and the Fifth, but neither extended a permanent invitation.

Milo did not care for the Eleventh. “Too excitement much for an ol’ boy like him,” Abarai explained.

A thank you card arrived from the Coordinated Relief Station in appreciation for “cheering up the patients.”

He was promptly banned from the Ninth, something about a fundamental incompatibility between dogs and newspapers.

Captain Yadoumaru claimed to be “a cat person.”

Milo actually did find a new home at the Tenth for all of an hour, before Captain Hitsugaya, who had been in a meeting, promptly delivered the dog back to the Sixth, glaring harshly at Byakuya, as though he had anything to do with it.

Surely, something would pan out sooner or later.

Surely.

- - -

Friday brought Milo again, along with a very shamefaced Lieutenant Abarai.

“What is the excuse today, Lieutenant?” Byakuya intoned.

“Well, Rukia got home last night, sir,” Abarai explained.

“Ah. So you will now actually be seeking a home for Milo.”

“Not… exactly. Um, do you remember when I said I had a good talk with Ichika about settin’ expectations?”

“Relying on the practicality of a seven-year-old did not turn out as you hoped?”

“Ah, Ichika’s not the problem, actually… it’s just that same talk didn’t work so well on Rukia.”

Byakuya glared at his brother-in-law.

“Well, you know how she is about cute stuff! I mean, look at him, sir, he’s such a charming guy! ”

Milo, as was his usual habit, was asleep on his back, limbs splayed in all directions. Most of him had fallen off his pillow. His tongue had also fallen out of his mouth.

“Perhaps he could spend his days over at the Thirteenth, then,” Byakuya suggested dryly.

“Oh, no, sir, Lieutenant Sentarou’s allergic, you see.’

“I see. You do have a house, Lieutenant. I have been there.”

“Well, sure, sir, but now that Ichika’s in school, no one’s there during the day. He’s so social, I don’t think he’d be happy all by his lonesome.”

Social. Of course. A dog who appeared to sleep for upwards of 22 hours per day.

Byakuya folded his hands. “I have been very tolerant, Lieutenant, but the Sixth Division is a place of calm and deportment and…”

In a flail of legs, Milo suddenly rolled over and sprang to his feet. A noise was emanating from deep in his little doggie ribcage.

“What is happening?” Byakuya asked, alarmed. “What is that sound?”

“He’s growlin’,” Abarai replied curiously, brows creased. “You have a bad dream, guy?”

Milo crept over to the office door, lip curled, hackles raised.

“HEY, BYAKUYA-BOU!”

Every muscle in Byakuya’s body seized. He scrabbled for Senbonzakura.

The door was thrown open and that frightful woman, Shihouin Yoruichi, pranced in.

Or at least she started to.

“Guess who’s back in tow-- aiieee!” The Demon Cat danced backward when she noticed the ball of grey and white fur growling at her feet.

“Milo, heel!” Renji commanded, standing up.

“Milo, belay that!” Byakuya ordered, also standing.

“What the--?!” Yoruichi exclaimed. “When’d you get a dog, Renji? I know that thing doesn’t belong to Byakuya.”

“He is a member of the Sixth Division!” Byakuya roared.

Yoruichi tried to take a step forward, and Milo slunk around her, his growl rising in pitch. “I was just stopping by, can’t stay. Too busy, y’know.” She pointed an index finger at Byakuya. “I will find you later. I know where you live.”

“Ah, too bad, I am dining with the Abarais tonight!” Byakuya snapped. “At their house, where Officer Milo spends his evenings!”

“You are?” Renji asked, puzzled.

“Yes, it is the night you make that thing I like, is it not?”

“You don’t like anything I cook,” Renji pointed out.

“I have changed my mind!”

Yoruichi was growing more and more uncomfortable with the dog snarling at her heels. Finally, she leaned down, made an angry hissing noise and dashed out, slamming the door behind her. A moment passed, then the door slid back open and stuffed her head back in. “I’ll get you, Kuchiki! And your little dog, too!”

Milo barked a single bark at her.

Yoruichi shuddered and slammed the door shut again.

Milo very triumphantly trotted back to his pillow, circled once, and settled back down.

“Good boy,” announced Byakuya.

Milo was back again the next day.

When Byakuya entered the office, he and Abarai stood up in unison to greet their captain.

Byakuya strode up to the dog. “You have proven yourself useful,” he announced. “As long as you continue to do so, you may stay.” He knelt down, and affixed a handsome leather collar around Milo’s neck. From it hung a badge. On one side was etched the character for six, on the other, a camellia. “But members of the Sixth Division must be in uniform.”

#bleach fanfiction #my writing #milo dog #byakuya is a sucker #renji is full of lies #rukia isn't even in this story and yet her vibes are so powerful #just a hint of byahitsu brotp

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forkanna · 4 years

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NOTE: Guys... I appreciate your interest in FTF III. Really. But poking me about it repeatedly will not make it appear faster. Especially stop asking on a completely different fanfic, it is a bit rude. Thanks in advance!

[AO3] [WATTPAD] [QUOTEV]

The room fell deathly silent. Chie had already known she made a mistake the instant the words left her lips, and the knowledge only hit her harder the more seconds ticked by. A little at a time, her head creaked around to look at her best friend.

Yukiko was crouching on the top step, legs out to one side. She still looked so elegant in her pretty kimono, despite the look of pure shock marring her flawless features. Helpless again. Chie knew her shadow had a point — that she did enjoy being able to protect her friend when she couldn't protect herself. The point of contention was that she didn't specifically want Yukiko to be helpless.

But who wouldn't feel a certain pride in being someone's Prince?

"Chie," she was breathing in dismay, the full blush flooding her cheeks bringing her crashing back to the present. "You… c-come on, you know I don't like those kinds of jokes. This isn't funny."

"You say that like she's joking," Other-Chie laughed harshly as she forcibly bent Other-Yukiko over, hand already twisted into her silky black locks. When did she get up there? Her princess only gasped and obeyed; no resistance whatsoever. "She's wanted to bang you since forever."

"I have not!" Swinging back around, she assured her, "Seriously, I haven't. That's a straight up lie!"

"It's really not. This right here? What we're doing?" She brought her hand down on the black lace-clad hindcheek, and both Yukikos yelped in response. "You've been dreaming about doing it for a long, long time, haven't you? Almost a year. Every time you look at this plump little ass."

"STOP. That's a lie! I d-don't even know about this kind of stuff!"

"Neither do I," her best friend whispered.

"We sure don't," Other-Yukiko giggled. "But we like it. And we're really, really curious about more…"

Other-Chie grinned wide, leaning against her princess's hip for a moment to gaze at the two best friends. "Ohh, Yukiko's too simple to lie, and too pure and naive to ever have a kinky thought in her whole life. She really means that. But her prince is another story. She knows about this stuff, and she keeps thinking about it." Now she ran her fingers down to press against the lace-shrouded crotch, earning a gasp and a whimper from its owner. "Every time they were in the showers together… every trip to the pool, every time they tried on outfits in the Junes clothing department… the prince was checking out the princess. Dark little thoughts swirling around in her head."

"You got it all wrong," Chie growled through her teeth. "She's my best. Friend. I don't think those- c'mon, I'm not that kinda girl! Really! This… this fucking thing is lying!"

"You know I'm not." Other-Chie was suddenly next to them both, sitting on the floor. Yukiko drew back in shock but Chie stooped down to catch her hand up, trying to lend support.

"You are. I never did that! NEVER! I don't 'check her out' every time!"

"Well…" With a tiny shrug, the shadow relented, "Maybe I'm stretching the truth. But you also know I'm not lying. I'm you, after all."

Before Chie could bite back that she most certainly was NOT her, Yukiko whispered, "What is she talking about?"

"Double-you… double-you… double-you." Other-Chie was smirking demonically as she went on, "Ex, aych, ay, em-"

"Whoa, whoa," Chie laughed nervously, holding up her other hand to ward off her double. "Y-you don't need to keep going! That doesn't matter, i-it's no big deal."

"Why not? You afraid sweet, chaste Princess Snow White will find out you're the Prince of Darkness?"

The remark on her name was almost cute. Chie could appreciate it; "Yukiko" meant "Snow Child", after all. But given that it was coming from this vile creature, she couldn't quite enjoy the turn of phrase as much as she might normally.

"What is she talking about?" Yukiko asked. When her friend didn't answer, she gripped her hand a little tighter with both of her own. "Chie…?"

"It's nothing. Really." Silence. "It was one time."

"One time that lasted a few hours," Other-Chie added, examining her nails as she rose to her feet, towering over both of them. Intimidating them. The real Chie kept her eyes on the floor while she explained; better that it come from her than this sham standing in front of them.

"S-so… I, um… I overheard some of the boys in class talking about some porn site one day. And that night, I went to it, and- but I was only curious, okay? I wanted to know why so many guys do that! Like, what was the big deal?" Swallowing hard, she felt her breath coming faster and shallower as she went on, "Wh-what she's talking about is… I watched one video with two girls… and… it was… really weird, but I couldn't look away, and uh…"

She had been trying to build up to it gently. Leave it to her doppelganger to blurt out with no filter, "And I couldn't help thinking, 'Would Yukiko do that with me?'"

"NO! That is not what I thought!"

"The fuck it isn't, you liar," she laughed. "It's exactly what you thought."

"I thought it for one second. Like, because one of the girls had long black hair! I-it wasn't something I wanted to try with her, not really, it was just a… I'm not like that! Really, I'm not a pervert, and I'm not a yuri! Everybody has thoughts that just… push… into their brains, even when they-"

The moment she felt Yukiko's hands pull away was the moment a light inside of her went out. Her voice fell silent, and her eyes swivelled to see pure disgust radiating off Yukiko. To her credit, she wasn't doing it in a condescending, holier-than-thou way. Her friend was genuinely shocked and alarmed by any such thoughts about her — which was no surprise. Even Yosuke simply commenting that she looked 'hot' in her kimono one day had earned him a slap across the face.

"Yuki-chan… I'm…" Her face began to crumple. "I didn't mean it… I… didn't…"

"Can we leave?" she asked her, eyes averting. "Th-this place is… terrible. I think… we should just get out of here, a-and forget we were ever anywhere besides Inaba."

"Listen to her, pretending she doesn't want to leave Inaba," Other-Yukiko giggled as she pushed her hips backward, eagerly awaiting more pleasure.

"Listen to both of them," Other-Chie cooed as she ground her hips against one of her fellow shadow's. "Is Prince Charming gonna cry? Because she got caught with her hand down her pants, thinking about bending her best friend over and eating her pussy like breakfast?"

Teeth gritting hard, she snarled at the other one, "STOP. I never, ever did that."

"But you wanted to. Can't lie to yourself, Prince; just because you didn't give into temptation doesn't mean you weren't tempted. Just talked yourself out of having some fun for once."

Completely defeated, Chie simply curled in on herself. Eyes watering, heart tight in her chest. And the worst part was… she could tell she was vaguely turned on. Too much attention had been called to her dalliances in the past, and knowing Yukiko knew was part of it. Being able to see Yukiko's exposed body — even if it was a copy being controlled by an otherworldly monster — was another. Either way, it only added to her anguish instead of being anything she could remotely enjoy.

"I'm sorry," she finally croaked out. "Yukiko… I didn't… you're my best friend, I…"

"She is not. She's our pet dog that we can do whatever we want with, remember? Just like Muku! And with this dog, that should include… a little show and tell. Like this." One hand pulled the leash now attached to the other Yukiko's collar taut as the other glided in a wide circle on her ass, then slapped it again — earning a squeal from its owner. "Which you love."

"We both love it," Other-Yukiko moaned aloud with a shiver.

"What?!" the real one gasped. "I do not! And I've never done such things, anyway, so how dare you claim I w-would ever like something like that!"

The doppelganger's golden eyes narrowed as she scoffed. "Really? So maybe you aren't chomping at the bit to join me up here. However, as much as you want to pretend your only reaction is disgust, we both know the idea is… interesting. You've never seen anything like this before, thought about it before, or had anyone confess to finding you attractive. Well, no one that you find attractive in return. And this calls to you in a way you've never experienced before. Right?"

Now, her best friend's deep, dark eyes were wide as dinner plates. "Attractive? Chie? I… sh-she is, but I'm not interested in other women. So that… doesn't count. Right?"

"What?" Chie blinked up at her. "Wait, whoa, really? You think I'm hot?"

"I didn't say 'hot'!" she hissed. "I said you're attractive!"

Waving that notion away with her hand, she said, "Come on, I am not. Like… you're so much prettier than me."

"Took the words right out of my mouth," her clone chuckled as she gripped the other clone's pussy hard through her panties, grinding her fingers against it. Both of their originals looked away in shame at the display, trying not to hear the quavering moan that resulted.

"That's not true," Yukiko whispered. "You're very pretty. And cool, and strong — and funny! And I don't think I'm as cute as you do, I'm… so plain, and uninteresting. You're unique, like a glorious peacock."

Chie's eyebrows shot up. "A peacock? Who, me? No way!"

"Yes, you are." For just a half-second, Yukiko smiled, and everything felt like it was alright again. Then the smile fell away. "Oh… is that not acceptable to say? Because you like women?"

"No, it's fine. Wait! Wh-what I mean is… I'm not into women, either! Like, why would I be?" Then she laughed a little too loud to be believable, which eventually turned into a sigh. "But I guess… I've never thought about guys that much, either."

Her shadow kissed her way up Other-Yukiko's thigh as she muttered, "You won't admit it for some reason. Why, you may ask? The answer might surprise you!"

"Don't…"

"It's because you're scared. Aren't you? That all your friends and family will see you differently if they know you're a dirty, dirty muff-diver."

"I am NOT, though! Seriously, what muff have I dived- doved. Doven?"

Yukiko giggled a little. When Chie looked at her in shock, she shrugged and whispered, "What? That phrase is already funny, and you can't… change the tense, so you…" The snickering got worse.

"This is SO not the time to have one of your giggle-fits!"

"Okay, okay." But despite her assurance, she started giggling again, anyway. In no time, her arms were wrapped tightly around her sides as her entire body shook with laughter. It was ridiculously unsuited for their current situation, and yet…

And yet, all of her fear and anxiety and self-disgust seemed to grow smaller. To lose its edge. That vortex of negative emotions within her became little more than the fog that settled over Inaba after a few days' rain; not nothing, but nothing to be overly concerned about on its own.

"Awww, look at you two, bonding and sharing a moment," Other-Chie cooed as she rubbed Other-Yukiko's crotch harder and faster, lips getting closer and closer. The clone of her best friend was becoming unmade, just as the girl in the video she had watched did. Almost exactly like that, in fact…

And that was when it really hit Chie. This was an exact repeat of the scene she had watched in the video, with one or two slight variations and some supervillain dialogue thrown in. As much as she had tried to deny it before, how could she pretend otherwise with so much evidence stacked against her?

"CHIE!"

Both of them whirled to look behind them at the doors as they burst open. In the lead was Yu Narukami, his washed-out grey head of hair gleaming in the light from the chandelier and torches lining the walls. In his hands was a golf club, which looked no more badass than his usual school uniform, but somehow he cut an imposing figure regardless. Right on his heels was Yosuke Hanamura, floppy brown hair flying out behind him as he skidded to a halt behind their leader, ever-present headphones adorning his neck like a bizarre ascot as he raised two gleaming daggers.

"Yukiko!" Yu demanded. "Are you alright?"

"OH NO!" Chie gasped out as she shot to her feet, took one look over her shoulder at the scene still being re-enacted on the dais, and held her arms wide. "Wh-what are you guys doing here?"

Yosuke looked confused, though still alert for any sign of a shadow attack. "What do you mean? Like… we're here to rescue Yukiko, right? And maybe you, since you ran off like that, you idiot!"

"I'm not an idiot! And… and everything's fine, you can leave! Go on, shoo!"

"Y-yes!" Yukiko said as she finally stood, doing the same as Chie. Apparently, they had tacitly agreed that they didn't want the boys seeing what their doppelgangers were doing just behind them. "We're fine! In fact, if you… will please immediately leave, we will follow you! In just a few seconds!"

"Leave?" demanded Yu, his eyes narrowed. He never said much, all things considered.

"Dude, so not gonna happen," Yosuke scoffed. "We're not letting you out of our sight! This place is totally dangerous!"

"Listen to them," Other-Chie cackled in her strangely out-of-sync voice from behind them. "Soooo dangerous… for your reputations."

Chie had to grit her teeth and slam her eyes shut for a moment. There would be no pretending that was her talking; the tone was too different, too paranormal and bizarre. Plus, they had been watching her like a hawk and would have seen that her lips didn't move.

"Are those… your shadows? Behind you?"

"Don't look!" Yukiko urged, and Chie grimaced; she had been hoping not to draw more attention to them, which was exactly the kind of thing a phrase like 'don't look' would do. "Please, look away! This is too obscene!"

"Obscene?" Yosuke asked, genuinely surprised. "What the hell does that mean?"

"It means none of your business, you jerk," Chie snapped. "Come on, just… we can deal with this, a-and you guys-"

"Let them decide for themselves if they want to see the show," her clone purred as she stoked her counterpart's flames of passion higher and higher. "After all, you want them to know, don't you?"

Other-Yukiko giggled, "Not me. I don't want anybody to know how much I love what you're doing to me. But still… kinda curious what their reactions would be. So why not?"

Yu and Yosuke glanced at each other, shrugged, and began to approach the steps cautiously. Chie held up a hand to stop them, but she couldn't seem to get any more words out; she was too terrified of what they would do once they got to the top.

"Alright," Yu said firmly as they climbed. "Whatever you do… do not deny that your shadows are you. It will enrage them and cause them to become stronger, and turn on us."

"What do you mean?!" Yukiko gasped, trying to move her arms to cover the show behind them more completely. "Th-there's no- wait, please, just stay where you are!"

"Now you got me curious," Yosuke teased lightly as he smirked up at them. They had stopped halfway up the steps, but it was obvious they wanted to keep going. "What's going on back there? It sounds a little, uh… different than it was with my shadow."

"Nothing's going on! Please, just go back the way you-"

"Wait." Clearing her throat, Chie asked them, "What you said, a second ago… about not denying them. Like… aren't these just monsters, trying to copy our faces and do upsetting things? Like… like that one thing in Harry Potter?"

"Well, kinda," Yosuke sighed, becoming serious again. "They're a part of you. Like, something about this place, the world in the TV… it brings out the thoughts you don't wanna accept. Makes you face them. But if you reject them, you just gotta actually fight them with your fists instead."

"If we reject them… then they get upset…"

"This is insane!" Yukiko was babbling. And Chie could almost feel the two behind them listening intently, thirsty to hear said denial. "How can you think these things are us? Th-that's- you can't be serious! This is not m-"

"WAIT!"

Everyone fell silent, watching Chie carefully as she trembled on the spot. Then she pointed at the two boys, silently commanding them to stay put, before she turned back to look at the shadows.

"May I help you?" her own mocked with a slight smile. And now she could see that she had finally moved her Yuki's panties aside and had two fingers deep inside of her. The sight sent a mighty surge down to her own lower extremities, but she had to stay strong — had to ignore that heat and focus on what needed to be done. If she couldn't even do this, then she had no right to call herself Yukiko's Prince.

"You really are me, aren't you?"

Other-Chie smirked and nodded. "Yep. Sorry to burst your bubble, but this is all you."

"No… not really. But it's… things I've thought about. Isn't it?" She took a step forward. "You're what I would be if I didn't care about what other people thought… what my friends think. Like, a totally selfish version of me."

"Nothing wrong with being a little selfish now and then," she countered with a shrug as she caused more and more screams to spill from Other-Yukiko's lips. Just like in the video. By the tone, it was obvious she would be finished soon.

"Fine. Maybe… maybe you're right. But I accept you, so it's time for you t-"

"Wait, hang on," she asked, and an uncharacteristic pleading look had entered her expression. "Let me finish her off. Please… I probably won't get another chance, you know."

Chie didn't know that, because she didn't understand most of what was going on, but she was definitely caught off guard. But it seemed cruel to deny her this; they had already gone so far as it was. "Um… f-fine, hurry up."

"What… are you doing?" Yukiko herself turned, and her eyes went as round as her mouth once her jaw dropped open. "Oh! Oh my GOD!"

Now they were both watching their other selves engage in this display of debauchery. A quick glance over at Yukiko showed that she was definitely not hating it as much as she protested, even if the disgust had been genuine. As she said herself, she hated 'jokes' like these. Anything remotely sexual had been met with stern disapproval in the past. Maybe this would change now that she had been confronted by the darkest desires of her own heart.

"Uhhhh, girls?"

"CAN IT!" Chie snapped back at Yosuke. "Just… we're going to let them finish, since they're us, a-and then we'll accept them! That's supposed to stop them from hurting anyone, right?"

"Sure," he said, and a glance showed that his cheeks were flushed. "But like, it's cruel for us to hear what's happening and not be allowed to look…"

"You don't get to see this! Like, no way, are you crazy?! Just get out of here, already!"

"We can't," Yu said, even though he was clearly a little flustered. "Not when your safety is a concern." And from Yu, she actually believed him.

"Yeah, your safety." Yosuke, she did not believe.

"Yeah!" Other-Yuki was gasping out, hips rolling back against the punishing fingers. "A-almost there, Chie-chan! More! Give me more!"

"You got it!" Harder and harder, she punished her insides. "And you're going to call me 'Prince', aren't you?"

"OH! Yes, my Prince! YES! MMmhhhHHHHH!"

By now, there wasn't a face in that throne room that was any colour besides scarlet. The real versions of Chie and Yukiko watched their counterparts finish up their carnal act, sweat running down the sides of their faces… and something else running down the insides of their thighs. Both of them. It was obscene, but also somehow romantic; it felt like a lot of that animosity between them had dissipated once she started admitting that this wasn't purely a lie.

"This… is so unseemly…" Yukiko couldn't form words. She glanced up at Chie's blushing face, then pushed a hand against her own mouth as she looked at their clones again. "How can you think they're really us? Look at this! It's… so…"

"They are," Chie sighed — and it would have been weary, except she felt anything but tired. "It's… really messed up, and I'm sorry. But she's a part of me. I just haven't wanted to admit it, because… I'm so disgusting. But it's true. She's me."

Other-Chie stood and withdrew her fingers as her clothes melted back into the same outfit the real one was wearing. And then she started getting lighter, and lighter. A transformation was taking place within the spectral form: a yellow jumpsuit taking the place of the metallic bikini, a pointed white helmet covering her head, and a double-bladed ko-naginata in one hand. While she could still be seen, she laughed warmly.

"Wow. We're stronger than I thought we were, Prince. Maybe there's hope for us yet."

And then she was gone. No, that wasn't quite right; she had become part of Chie again. She could feel it settling into the pit of her stomach; guilt, nausea, desire. Not that it had ever really been gone from her while the shadow-clone existed — it was just a little harder to ignore now than before. Plus she felt fatigued as if she had just run a dozen meters, but it was nothing that a good nap couldn't cure.

"She's gone!" Yukiko gasped.

"Yeah, thanks a lot," her own clone whimpered, frowning. "Only got me off once and now she went away. And my Prince won't play with me; only the other Prince."

"W-we already played with you," Chie sighed. "And I did help, like I promised. I put the collar on you, and… and I let my shadow make you feel good. Right? So can't you go back into Yukiko now?"

"That's not how it works. She has to accept me, remember? That I'm part of her. That she loved what she saw just now, even if she's so confused by most of it…"

Distressed, Yukiko shook her head back and forth. "P-please, stop all these games. This isn't true! You're not mhhhgg!"

It was Yosuke's hands that wrapped around her mouth to stop her. Yukiko started punching at them but he had a decent grip. The clone had flickered for a second, become brighter, and then lapsed back into the post-coital depressed creature she had been again.

"Whew!" Yu sighed as he came up to stand beside the others. "That was close."

"Yukiko, stop!" Yosuke told her urgently. "I know this is probably… weird, and a lot to take in, but you can't reject her! Or she'll attack! Just… just accept that she's part of you so we can all go home now!"

When Yukiko looked not only distressed, but angry, Chie came to stand in front of her and clamped her hands down on both of her shoulders. "I… I know. I didn't want to, either, because… because I didn't want you to see. I didn't want to admit I've ever thought such terrible things, a-about you, or about our friendship. They suck. But it's me who sucks, Yuki-chan. Seriously, I'm a jerk, I… most of the time I do okay, but sometimes really stupid stuff goes through my brain. And it's not on purpose but it's still not right. I'm gonna work on it, okay? I'll do better, I…" She cleared her throat and set her face in determination. "But Yosuke's right. You can't fight this; that is you down there. It's a piece of you that you don't like very much, but she's you, and… and if you deny it, you'll only make things worse."

It seemed to do the trick. Yukiko stopped struggling, and her two friends let their hands fall away. Hoping desperately she would make the right choice. It took her a few seconds of shivering and thinking before she took action.

"Um…" Hands on her knees, Yuki stooped down and knelt by the sobbing princess-clone. "Yukiko?"

"Y-yes?"

"You really miss your prince, don't you?"

"Of course!" she bawled. "One minute, I felt amazing, and n-now… now she's gone! I hate it! I need my prince — I need my Chie! What am I going to do without her?! I… nobody can tell me what to do but her!"

Fresh embarrassment sprouted in the real Yukiko's eyes, but she powered through. "It's okay. We'll stay by her side together. Is… is that what you want?"

"You… you promise?"

"I do. I'll do my best from now on. You and I will together, since you're… me. I guess."

Even though Yukiko's face could only be described as a mask of disgust, it still seemed that her clone was thrilled with her. A look of pure elation was on her features as she faded from existence… turning briefly into the image of an ancient priestess that took Chie's breath away. Beautiful pink-and-red flowers with long petals fanned out from her hands, and the white shape of a heart covered her rose-tinted chest. Her features were very nearly… alien.

But she barely had enough time to register that she had seen it before they heard a vaguely echoing "thank you", and she was gone.

"Oh wow, that's a-" Yosuke didn't get any further than that before Yukiko started to sag toward the floor. "Whoa! Hey, be careful!"

Chie was just able to help him keep her from whacking her head, and they gently lowered her to the steps. They had won; they beat those annoying shadows into submission and got them to vanish! Even though she was still a little worried about the way they transformed into someone else before fading back into the host bodies, it was better than fighting them, at least.

But now they had to get out of here. Through their combined efforts, all three of them were able to carry her all the way to the entrance of the throne room.

"Whew!" Chie gasped, sweat rolling down her temples. "When did… she get so… heavy?! She's taller than me but weighs the same!"

"And there's three of us," Yosuke grunted. "Like, somebody put this girl on a freakin' diet!"

"S… sorry," she just barely mumbled.

"It's okay, Yuki-chan," her best friend assured her as she staggered to a stop. "But I think I… need a little… break… m'kay?"

That was the last thing she could manage before the floor was surging up to meet her, two voices were crying out in shock, and total darkness stole over that other world.

To Be Continued…

#We'll Face Ourselves #persona 4 #forkanna writes #p4 fanfic #persona fanfiction #jess the writer

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