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sheepispink · 1 month ago

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Comforting Warmth

supersoldier!reader x ghost/tf141 (part 7)

cw: mentions of experimentation on kids, nothing explicit though

honourable mentions: ty to @kittygonap & @pythonmoth for some animal ideas. ty to @kittygonap and @silas-aeiou for scents, and @pythonmoth again for a lovely plot idea i wont spoil 😉

A/n: yes i did write 5.9k words in a day, yall deserve it eat up

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After scarfing down twice your normal breakfast this morning, Soap and Gaz had come by and nudged you out of bed, handing you an outfit for the day. You’ve never dressed up as a civilian before, having never done an undercover mission, so you’re quite glad they picked it out for you. After all, if it was up to you then it’d be the plain old uniform again. It’s a simple outfit, jeans and a hoodie, and you look into the mirror to find that it weirdly looks like it fits you perfectly. Out of necessity, you neaten up your hair, fixing up the strands that just didn't want to stick no matter what. You’d much rather be on the track than anywhere they had wanted to take you, but after two whole weeks of being stuck in bed, and two weeks before that forced to ‘recuperate’, you’d take absolutely any form of exercise than walking circles around your room.

So, there was understandably a very clear disdain written across your face when you were faced by a car, Gaz ushering you to get into the passenger seat.

“Seatbelt on?”

He asks when you’re settled, in the back since you were quite annoyed about this whole arrangement. His words didn’t amuse you like it once would’ve, instead now staring daggers through the back of his seat. Soap wanted to laugh, and he did at first; they all knew you were increasingly restless as the days carried on. But as you continued, he realised you were in fact quite serious about all of this, face not shifting from its blank look and voice so monotone it could be artificial.

“Yes, I'm not a child.” It’s still a flat statement like before, but this time it even packs a bit of a punch, your eyes naturally shifting away from them towards the window. “Are we going to leave now?” When Price told them you had shifted overnight, they had hoped that meant you were back to talking properly again, but they were not expecting a change this way. “Not so fast. Still waiting on someone.”

The car door across from you opens, cold air washing over you until the seat slightly dips from the weight beside you. “Got caught up with rookies again.” Your teeth grit involuntarily at the gruff voice beside you, not even having to turn to know who sat there. Ghost, of course, noticed immediately when you didn’t turn to look at him, deciding not to comment on it as he strapped himself in. This time he was going to make no mistakes, and as the one person who had read your files in and out practically every night to decipher what he could do better, what they could all improve on, he decided he has to go with you everywhere. It doesn't matter if he trusts the two sergeants with his life– you were his charge, and he’d be damned if he didn’t take that responsibility seriously this time around.

Gaz starts the car, light chatter passing between the three of them whilst you lean your head on the window, staring at the scenery that passes. You’ve only travelled like this a few times before, but never casually. To be honest, you’ve never actually headed to town before either, so this was definitely a day for a lot of firsts. The old you– or rather the real you.. Or the fake you?-- would’ve loved all of this, the spring breeze over your face and the feeling of people who don't look down on you surrounding you. But that’s all different now–you just want this all over and done with, for this pain to leave your system and to go back to normal. You’ll take absolutely anything over this.

“We’re here.” He parks, and you look around noticing that you seem to be in some kind of retail park. There’s not many options, but they do have a diy store and a home furniture one, as well as a few fast food restaurants scattered around. But you weren’t really allowed food as greasy as that—Not that you particularly wanted it anyway; you much prefer the high protein, high carbs diet Soap currently had you on, especially with all the flavourful sauces he seems to find. At first it was cool–discovering all of these things, until you realised just how out of touch you are with society. Who the hell hasn't tried barbecue sauce?

You follow behind the two sergeants besides Ghost, who will not let you walk behind on your own, until they lead you through the home furnishing store all the way to the bedding aisles. There’s long shelves of duvets in different sizes with sheets in a range of colours, feels, and even patterns. Truthfully, you weren't bothered by most things, but with your restlessness the bed sheets really have been getting at you. You never really got a good sleep even before all of this; the duvets were practically the exact same as the infirmary ones, scratchy and thin. And you didn't want anything that symbolizes the infirmary in any way.

So, as much as you didn't exactly want to comply with this, you take the opportunity to actually look at the options, feeling the thickness of each blanket and considering colours for the first time in your life. “This one.” You pull out a thirteen tog duvet, the soft and thick combination drawing you in immediately. Soap tosses it in the basket, and you look at him expectantly, like you’re ready to leave.

“Oh… no, no, yer getting a new everything. C’mon, no one has only one blanket anyway, let's get a throw too, hm?.”

You’re promptly dragged off to another aisle, leaving Ghost and Gaz behind looking at pillows. “They’re not actually.. Angry, right? At us?” Gaz asks, having noticed your closed off attitude and Ghost shakes his head. “Don’t think they’re even capable of that. Everything’s just a bit muddled for them right now–they’re at war with themself.” Gaz nods quietly, trying his best to understand what’s going on with you, but it just seems impossible— every information revealed is more inhumane than the last. He decides to carry on for now, praying that you’ll end up alright in the end.

When you’ve left the store, you have to stop by the car to drop off the heavy bags full of things Soap deemed ‘absolutely necessary for a good night's sleep’ or whatever. You were started to feel a little agitated again, one part of you hating that his words made a little part of you want to laugh, and another part of you angry that you hadn’t screamed and demanded they let you do what you want. Shaking your head, you try to keep those thoughts away and focus on following along as they walk back towards the arrangement of shops.

Though you’re caught off guard when Soap suddenly blurts out something that you did not want in the slightest.

“Price wants me and Gaz to get some super top secret uh…. Boring stuff, ye know? Nothin’ interesting.”

He mumbles, whilst Gaz jabs him in the side with his elbow, muttering something angrily in his ear. “Point is, we should split up. Ghost’s got the rest of the list, and y’know maybe if we get back early, we can..go for a run?” That snaps you into the current moment fast enough, and you’re already turning on your heel, leaving Ghost rolling his eyes at the blatant bribery before he catches up to you.

—-------------

You don’t look at Ghost once, still being indifferent towards him after everything that happened between you. You can't deny that you’re upset, angry even, that his own words had caused you to spiral to a state of no return, just from overhearing one sentence. At first, you were slightly ashamed that you had run solely off an assumption, but then as your mind cleared and you considered it further it was fairly clear that the way he pushed you to the brink of exhaustion solely to please the higher ups was nothing short of inhumane.

But then again, you’re not exactly human. Again, you shake that dangerous thought from your head as you follow Ghost into the.. toy store?

“Why are we here?”

He would have explained it before, but he wants you to ask questions—he needs to bring you out of your current state of indifference before you’re stuck there. He’s read the files; he knows about the past time this happened and he’s nervous that it’ll only grow worse until you’re apathetic too. “Price suggested you try keeping warm at night, a hot water bottle is usually a good way.” He hums, tone noticeably softer in terms of volume but still his eyes are cold as ever, trying to keep his focus and not sink into guilt in front of you. Thankfully, you don’t challenge his answer, intrigued by the thought of a hot water bottle; you’re so used to being just barely comfortable, what if it’s too hot?

Following behind, your eyes are caught onto the colourful displays across the store and the excited laughter of the little children tugging on their parent’s hands, dragging them to their current favourite interest. Your eyes don't leave them, watching a pair of twins get excited over matching figures, whilst their younger sibling is just happy whenever they're grinning. It reminds you of better times, with the other experiments children and all the stupid things you got up to with your wild imaginations. Sometimes you’d pretend that you were really spies, to be given cool gadgets and you’d pretend to ‘escape’ the small room you had been placed in between testing. Every thought was an active effort to not acknowledge the real pain you were all in, and only on one summer day had you all clumped together, needle pricks stinging as you lay beneath the warm sun, leaves slowly falling around. It was the first time you chose to nap instead of playing, but it wasn't the last.

“Reaper? Something wrong? Ghost’s voice immediately snaps you from your thoughts, making you realise you had come to a stop in the middle of the aisle, still staring at the place where the three children had once been. You turn back to him, eyes hazing over just slightly before you convince yourself to knock it out. “No, I just thought I heard something..”

“Right, over here. You gotta pick one out.” There’s not many kids around thankfully— not that your face would’ve shifted much anyway— but he had led you towards what seemed to be a stuffed animal ‘mini factory’, according to the sign. He gestures towards the unstuffed animals lay waiting, all different types with their beaded eyes and soft fur.

“I thought you said a hot water bottle.” You challenge him, looking at him with narrowed eyes as if questioning if he really thought of you to be this childish.

“They fill it with special beads that can be microwaved. Besides, it’s safer and much more comfortable than them.” You seem like you want to question further, and as much as he’d just like to force you to get one, you should be allowed to speak. Since he didn’t let you before.

“Can’t I just get a bottle shaped bag of beads then? What’s the need for the plushies?” He does his best not to sigh, he really does, but you’re making it difficult for him now. How is he going to explain that yes, they totally do see you as an adult, and no, they’re not trying to treat you like a child? You’re already bordering the edge of just turning away now, no he has to think fast— he feels like he’s the one being interrogated.

. “Don’t think it works like that. They do it on purpose to make more money— I mean, this is more appealing than just a plain grey bag.” He holds up one of the premade plushies, a penguin with floppy arms. “See, it’s cute.”

”Then why don't you get one?” Now you’re just trying to piss him off, aren't you?

Ghost lets out a long sigh, turning his back to you for a moment as he places it back down. This is the reason he got into this trouble in the first place. Sure he shouldn’t t have to agree with everything you say, but he can't dismiss you so easily like you were Soap just trying to rile him up. A part of you genuinely meant it, and it was also entirely possible that you didn't even mean to take a jab at him— after all, your state of mind was a total whack after the breakdown, you’re barely figuring out the pieces yourself.

“Could do. Don’t think they make a ghost one unfortunately and it probably wouldn't fit on the bed either.” Finally, you take his answer as satisfactory, shrugging it off as you move to look through the ones available. Though you still don't seem entirely keen on this at all, and he’s slightly worried you won't even bother falling asleep with it at all.

A worker soon comes over, all smiles like they usually are in kid’s shops like this but there’s a faint flicker of fear in her eyes when she looks between Ghost and you. He did contact the store beforehand, explaining the situation as vaguely as possible only to warn not to try any funny business with you at all. “Welcome to our mini factory! Anything you two are interested in?”

Your eyes snap up, a little too fast and you have to forcefully settle yourself to not seem intimidating to the new person. Thankfully the scratches on your face had cleared up, leaving the naive face behind that Ghost had once hated. You looked hesitant to speak though not quite shy, and you looked at Ghost’s way for once, having usually avoided his gaze. His chest ached with guilt though, knowing he had controlled you in such a way before in which you could barely speak for yourself, but he was wondering if this meant you still thought of him as your ward to some degree. Though, the way you looked at him was almost a test, asking if he’d continue with his old ways or not. Either way, the point is that you’re allowed to ask your questions now, and so he gives you a nod.

“Do you have any plain ones?” Damnit, maybe he shouldn't have given you freedom of speech just so quickly.

The worker pauses, not usually asked for things like that but eventually shakes her head as Ghost motions a no simply by the harsh look in his eyes. “Well, originally the company started out like that! But as more customers came they asked for different designs and options, so we decided on animals!” It makes sense to you, at least partially. You can't exactly question her words when you barely know anything about the outside world yourself. “So, any animal in particular you’d like?” Before you could respond, Ghost had walked off and returned with a fox shaped plush, black beaded eyes and pointy ears. It made something in your chest flare and definitely not in a good way. “No. I don't need another.” It’s monotone, blank, but it’s sharper than usual, and the way you turn away from him is enough to prove that it’s your final decision.

Seeing as you looked pretty content with talking quietly to the worker, he decided to leave you alone for a while, giving you space before he went ahead and ruined anything else. Besides, they’d been allocated so much budget for your care that this wouldn’t change a thing in the bank even if you bought ten. Soon enough you’re walking over to the machine with the lady, still looking a little conflicted as you hold two of the empty animals. A wolf, and an eagle. The former has a tuft of fur on its head, and a mischievous looking face, whilst the latter had long wings and a determined demeanour. That gives Ghost dèja vu for a moment.

He’s happy to see that you’re intrigued by the process, even going as far as to help the lady when she shows you how to stuff the animals, the large machine pushing the filling through a tube. “Wait.” You’re about to fill the eagle when Ghost cuts in, making you both stop to a halt. “These instead.” It’s the heavier type of beads, similar to the feeling of a weighted blanket. You had denied one in the store, but he wouldn't let you escape it now, not when they said they’d try everything to get you sleeping normally again. The worker doesn't complain, switching to the other machine, and you help again, filling the eagle up until it’s a comfortable weight in your hands.

“So.. Do you wanna add a heartbeat? Our customers love this add on!” It’s shaped like a heart, a small electronic covered by felt, and it pulses on your hands as you hold it, testing out the feel. To be honest, it makes you feel rather uneasy, and almost strange but Ghost speaks for you this time. “We’ll have one with the heartbeat.”

“What?”

He looks down at you, noticing your questioning of his sudden decision. “It’s all or nothing, you heard the Captain.”

So reluctantly, the wolf gets stuffed with the heart beat, and then the worker turns to you again. “Alright, and any scents too? We have some here and oh— we have a new batch in the back, i’ll grab them!” She hurries off through the warehouse, whilst silence hangs between the two of you. You pick up the scent testers available, curious, until you stop on lavender. Weirdly enough, you’ve never actually seen the flower before, only knowing the scent, and you’re not surprised it’s purple. It’s been years since you’ve smelt it properly, the lingering scent on the small fox plush having faded out to a mere thought now, especially since Gaz fixed it up. Will it smell just as comforting? Will it smell different?

You lift it to your nose, immediately hit with the powerful yet calm scent, exaggerated for the purpose of the stuffed toy. It’s so strong it feels like you’re back in that medical room, the young intern before you as you clutch the sheets desperately. His face is a blur, in fact most of his attire is, but you remember his words and the touch of his hand as he clutched your weaker one. It was near impossible to forget the great pain you had been in that day, having been pushed to your limits and left twitching, but somehow you had forgotten him.

Until now you had failed to remember that someone had been there for you first, and he had promised you a future of happiness. For a while you put your hope in him, letting him hold your hands, soothe you to rest and help you walk around your room again. The story isn't quite the same as when you last recalled it, stuck in that cabin with the threat lingering near. He hadn't been there the weeks before you had been sent off to Ghost, no, but you wished he had. For four whole years after his mysterious disappearance, you held that fox tight, begged and pleaded for him to come back to you, to soothe you again. But he never came, and even though the nurse had broken the news to you, you had refused to believe their words. Until they brainwashed it out of you, well most of the memories anyway, so you had forgotten practically everything, until now.

Until the scent returned.

It did not only bring back good memories though, because, with each visit from him, you had always been in some sort of pain prior. Experiments, rough handling, forced exercises to strain yourself, or even sliced into, crimson coating your skin. Instead of hurting, it overwhelms you, the sudden barrage of thoughts and experiences, all that made you the person you were today. You’ve lost so much of yourself over the years, and this probably is only a quarter of it, but still it feels so so good, and yet horrifying at the same time. Again, it’s the same feeling as before, like your body was in a battle with itself. Your head wanted to push it all down, beg for those memories to stay sealed by healed incisions and faded scars, but your heart yearned for otherwise. It needs to know, to feel and live through every emotion that’s been shoved down, and for a mere second it gets that freedom— pure joy swelling your heart until anger fills it, for everything the scientists have done to you, to the younger kids there, to all of your innocence. Soon it shifts to fear, one that’s already been creeping through, before it becomes jealousy, when you didn't understand why the other kids got to play freely whilst you went under anesthesia again, on that cold table for another day. Finally, it’s the sadness that’s lingered near every day since you became aware of your true purpose. Pure misery that lingers in the soul.

And then it’s gone, as fast as it came.

—-----------------------------------

Your eyes blink to a strange feeling, having been positive that you were just in that stupid ‘mini factory’ place, and not still in the car. Something rests beneath your head, like when you used the window as a temporary pillow, watching nature pass. But this isn't that now, and you haven't gone back in time, so you must’ve gone forward. Confused, you attempt to move, only to find you can’t, trapped in your own body like you’re.. paralysed. Fear spikes your heart, unable to even move your head until you hear a low noise, rumbling near your ear. It’s a pulse, a steady one that rises and falls with soft breaths..

“Reaper, you awake?” You’re not sure if you’re better off paralysed or not because that’s definitely not the voice you wanted to wake up too. What if all of that had been a dream..? Everything was still hazy, and you couldn't even make out the shape of the steering wheel or the music playing low from the radio; so what would happen if this really was all some stupid figment in your head again?

Something moves against you, fingers that were once resting against your back moving upwards to tap you gently. Brown eyes follow, leaning down to peer into your open ones, as if testing you somehow. “You blanked out when you had smelt that scent.” His voice is lower, quieter than usual in a somewhat crappy attempt to soothe you. Though you could at least tell that he knew what was wrong here–he was the last person you wanted to be leaning against after practically losing yourself again. “Went totally still too, had to muster up some excuse to the worker before getting those other idiots to take over..” Even though he wants to stay with the same dry tone as usual, he can't, involuntarily trailing off as he looks down at you again. “You wanna sit upright?”

You don't answer, because you can't, still stuck within your own body like an intruder. It scares you slightly, you know sometimes that your body thinks your organs aren't actually yours, and so it attacks them. And just now you’d been so conflicted with yourself… what if you had been kicked out of yourself? Was that even possible?

“Hey–you gotta speak to me.” He murmurs, but not nearly as stern as he’d be with anyone usually. Your eyes are darting around frantically, as if searching for something and he can't help but grow even more concerned at your ongoing silence. Even more worrying, you haven't moved once, not even a twitch. “Can you hear me?” He asks a little louder out, and you still don't reply but your eyes snap up to him immediately. Well that’s good

“Can you move? Look right for yes, other way for no.” He watches as you look left, his brows narrowing as he carefully adjusts his hands around you, one of them rubbing your shoulders slowly. “It’s a trauma response, I'm guessing something suddenly startled your brain when you blanked out,” Your eyes are still darting, occasionally looking up at him but at least you can move your eyelids to blink. He just needs to calm you. “Alright– do you want me to sit you upright?” He watches your pupil shift to the right, and his hands carefully lift you upwards, your head away from his side and leaves you resting back against the seat, tilted slightly towards the car door.

The first sign is the long gasp you let out, your eyes blinking longer until your head finally moves, looking around properly. Then you pull yourself straight, hands rubbing at your face as you push through the blurry haze and back to reality.

“Y’alright there Reaper? Heard what happened, doesnt sound too good.” The car door had opened, Soap’s mohawk brushing against the ceiling of the car as he climbed into the passenger seat, looking back at you in concern. He glances at Ghost, who gives him a look and then over to Gaz who’s climbing into the back, having just swapped seats with Ghost. However, they all freeze when you let out a small noise, almost like you’re choking on air itself.

“Deep breaths, okay? Look at me– look at me.” Ghost is already in the backseat again, his hands on your arms as he pulls them away from your chest, watching as you breathe frantically, eyes unfocused. “Can’t–”

“Yes you can.” He’s firm this time, almost commanding and you take in a long breath, before exhaling it just as deeply. Again, he instructs you, over and over until your hands are just trembling on your lap, held down by him before you attack yourself again, like you had done for months prior. They squirm against his large palms but he insists, keeping them far from you. “Look at me.” Finally, your eyes snap up to him, pupils frantic and darting around, but they find no solace in his empty face, unable to calm themselves in someone who looks like death themselves.

He curses loudly as your pulse screams against his hands, your eyes frozen on his, whilst Gaz sticks the key into the ignition, waiting for some family to pass by so he can pull out of the parking lot. Ghost is running out of options, especially as your hands are trying harder to break free, unable to fight off the urge to tear into yourself. He can tell you’re overwhelmed, the squint of your eyes showing that you’re trying to fight against yourself. So he does the next best thing possible to keep your eyes on him.

One hand leaves yours, allowing you to finally ease that urge, to attack relentlessly at yourself just to rid of the hatred caused by everything you’ve come to feel in the past hour. Your nails are perfectly blunt but they’ll work, you’ll make it work if it means your heart will stop trying to come out of your throat. You look up on instinct, fingers curled into your hair when you are suddenly still at the sight before you.

Blonde eyelashes, yes, but also the curve of a nose, the wrinkles of concern in a forehead and the parting of worried lips. Unmasked, emotions written in the hitch of his Adam's apple and cheeks paled, faded marks etched into them like a scripture lost to time. You pause to stare, the sight enough to let your hands drop down into his, and for your own face to relax. It’s the same expression you wore when you first met him, oddly curious and strangely naive.

He lets out a long sigh and doesn't wait another second to strap you in while you’re still distracted, promptly tugging you into his side along with one hand to cover your own just in case you get the slightest itch again. “Think it’s time we get home now.” The two sergeants are slightly shocked themselves, despite already seeing his face many times before. “Right… um, buckle up.” Gaz mumbles, finally pulling out and heading through the greenery back to base.

—------------------------------------------------

You had slumped against his side for the rest of that journey; whether you wanted it or not you’re not really sure,but you definitely needed it. The drive back had helped you clear your mind as well as the generally quiet atmosphere, apart from the occasional talking, and now you’d finally returned to your room. Soap had unloaded the first haul of things from the car, only letting you carry a few bedsheets, and brought it to your room. They had painted the walls the day prior, making it a lot brighter with a simple light blue, something you had chosen given how intrigued you were by the sea the first time you saw it. Plus, it didn't hurt your eyes to look at either.

“You sure yer alrigh’ on yer own?” He asks, genuine worry written on his face but you really needed some time to process all of this.

—

You pull off the last pillow case cover, discarding the worn material to the corner where the rest are piled up already. First of all, you couldnt remember half of the things that happened after you smelt that lavender card. It was weird, you remembered everything you felt during the moment, the raw intensity but absolutely nothing that followed after. Almost as if you were never meant to know at all.

And had Ghost really dragged you out of the shop? It seemed impossible that you could get that preoccupied, but seeing as how you are after extreme levels of stress in the evac vehicles, it makes sense the same thing could occur. Even you can't deny that everything has been way too overwhelming recently, from the seizure to the panic you went through earlier today, it felt like all your past problems were amplified.

As exhausted as you were from everything that happened, you couldn't help but feel strange knowing that for once in your life, you didn't suffer alone through that episode. It’s terrifying every single time, and it would’ve been much easier to deal with if Ghost had just commanded you to stop. But he had chosen the safer route for you, and the more difficult one for him. It felt wrong seeing his face like that, in a time of your own desperation, but it was his choice at the end of the day and a small part of you really hopes it was actually to help you.

Not just to shut you up.

Regardless, you may have not originally wanted to go on this trip but you came out of it feeling strangely lighter, the hole that normally eats at your chest feeling oddly satisfied today. Maybe it won't tomorrow, but for now you don't want to think too hard on the specifics. You can just accept it this time.

———-

Evening comes quickly, and he knows the sergeants had brought you to eat dinner in the mess hall. It was always good to see you up and around, but he had matters to discuss with Price considering the plan forward, potential involvement in missions. The higher ups were satiated by the golden results produced by you before your painful breakdown, but they’d start getting suspicious by the lack of results depending how long they left this. That’s not exactly a current issue though, and the conversation was more of a report for how you were doing today.

Ghost makes sure to stop by the common room before he checks on you tonight, the microwave whirring softly. You’ve still had steady nightmares all week, and also never go into detail about what they include nor do you go to them about it either. It frustrates him slightly, since he wants to know every occurence and understand the patterns and so, but he knows he can't push this. He doesn't have the right.

—

“Reaper? Fallen asleep yet?” You’re laying in bed, exhausted out of your mind from the day’s events and the episode earlier. Eyes drooped as usual but, just like other nights, you were in a half haze between awake and asleep. He’s not sure if it was something to do with being afraid of having more nightmares, or simply insomnia, but either way you wouldn’t ever give a proper answer.

“..No.” It’s less monotone this time, quiet and soft as you lay beneath your brand new duvet, head sunken into the soft pillows. This is heaven for you, if you’re being completely honest but something still keeps you up, mind whirring.

“That’s ‘cause you forgot these.” You’re staring at the bedsheets, not bothered with whatever method he wants to try today, when the two plushies are tucked in right beside you. A wolf with it’s stupid tufts of fur on it’s head and a.. scottish flag? Ghost stifles his chuckle at your sleepy confusion, pulling the blanket a little higher over you. “I left the sergeants to buy it after you conked out. Soap had a bit of fun with the accessories.”

Your fingers graze over the little flag playfully tied over the wolf’s shoulders like a cape, the soft material rubbing against your raw hands from the struggling. Then your gaze shifts to the eagle, which has a matching cap like Gaz’s, along with a makeshift dog tag hung around its neck. You like it, a lot actually, it’s soft and fuzzy, similar to how the fox plushie used to be. Unfortunately it’s practically all matted now.

Both of them are warm through and through, the beads inside providing a comforting heat that feels like a hug… similar to the one Price gave you before. What gets you the most is the scent though; the eagle has an orangey citrus but the tang is cut off with notes of pine It hits you straight away like the lavender but it’s calming this time, like switching your brain off. Although the wolf has a different one, like freshly cut grass, seasalt and wood. The combination makes your head swim, quelling the thoughts that had once contaminated it, and even the weight of the eagle’s heavy beads forces the breath you’ve been keeping in for too long out of you.

But just as you’re settling, Ghost reaches forward, gently pressing the chest of the wolf. A soft pulse vibrates against you, muffled yet so present.

He leans against the door as your eyes flicker shut, content by the stuffed animals tucked beside you. Your breaths even out quickly too, expression practically melting as you give into the exhaustion that’s eaten you up for a month and a half now.

It had been years ago, but he had once talked to a K9 handler, one who had the responsibility of temporarily looking after some vulnerable pups after they had been found on the field. “They miss their parents a lot.” The man had said, carrying the puppy in his arms as it wriggled and squirmed.

“But you know what trick always works? Something warm— a hot water bottle maybe. Stick an old timer beneath it and it imitates the mother. They knock out every time.”

The man had chuckled, and just as he said, the puppy had fallen asleep instantly, feeling safe and content where it lay.

———————————

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jamminvroomvroom · 1 year ago

Note

I absolutely adore your writing,

For the celebration, could you please do virgin reader first time with Oscar?

sunshine.

op x fem!reader - 4k celebration

in which oscar arrives home to an unexpected guest…

hi hi hi! thank you so much anon, i hope this is what you wanted!! trying to get through requests, loving hearing from you guys! this one is so cute i think, let me know ur thoughts 😚😚

songs to set the mood: fall in love with you by montell fish, fade into you by mazzy star, like real people do by hozier

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!!! smut, fluff, friends to lovers, sleepy baby oscar, teeny tiny bit of angst, mutual pining, r’s first time, swearing

2.9k words

oscar’s exhausted, shoulders sagging beneath the thick material of his mclaren hoodie. he’s glad he left it in his carry on, the miserable london weather not even remotely living up to the warm glow of the middle eastern sun.

he craves his bed, dreamless sleep, entering the code to get into his building and slumping against the cool mirrored wall of the elevator. his eyes droop as the lift travels up, and the ding that sounds when he reaches his floor breathes life back into him.

the double header that kickstarted the season has knackered him, and he longs for alone time and silence to recuperate before he has to deal with the noise of going home and racing in front of a familiar crowd.

his key slides into the lock and he pushes the door open, throwing his bags by the door - he’ll deal with them later. the hoodie is shrugged off and dropped haphazardly on the floor next to the shoes he kicks off. his bed is calling. dazed, he trudges down the hallway, but he’s spooked by a faint sound coming from his bedroom.

as he primes himself to investigate, he hears footsteps, light and quiet against the floorboards. he goes to open his bedroom door, breathing heavy, but he just about jumps out of his skin when it swings open before he gets there. he yelps, and so do you, leaping into the air.

“you scared the shit out of me.” you shout, hand over your thumping heart.

“i scared you? what are you doing here?” oscar bites back, running his hand through his brown locks.

“sorry, sorry, i didn’t mean to be here without your permission but… it’s a long story. i didn’t think you’d be home yet.” you smile apologetically.

“sofa.” oscar mumbles, stalking past his bedroom and towards the living room. “what’s goi- are you wearing my shirt?” he splutters, finally looking at you properly.

your face heats up, and you cross your arms awkwardly.

“um, yeah? god, this is all so embarrassing.” you cover your face, falling onto the sofa. he plonks down beside you.

“tell me what happened.” oscar sighs.

“he dumped me.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“why?” oscar asks softly. “ugh, i knew i hated him for a reason.” he wrinkles his nose.

“i don’t know how to explain this without wading into major tmi territory.” your voice is small, quivering slightly.

“you can tell me, love.” he encourages gently.

“he found it weird that i’m, uh, a virgin?” you squeak, your voice raising into a question. oscar goes as red as you are.

“oh. oh.”

“oh god, you’re freaked out too. is there something wrong with me? like, why has this not happened? i thought i was ready with him, but then when it came down to it…” you ramble, trailing off.

“there’s nothing wrong with you.” oscar states, firm and serious. “him, on the other hand.” he shakes his head, disgusted. “he wasn’t good enough for you.” he spits.

“do you mind if i stay here?” you whisper, leaning into his side. “or, keep staying here?” you laugh softly. oscar joins in.

“you know you can always stay here.” he smiles sleepily. you’re just about the only person in the world he can stand right now, and always, actually. “but i need a nap, you coming?”

you nod and follow him to his room. the tv is still on, the one with monica and chandlers wedding playing quietly. oscar smiles. he knows it’s your favourite.

he flops onto his side of the bed, dropping off almost instantly. you watch over him, enamoured and sympathetic, in awe of him and the life he lives. you slip into bed beside him, leaving a respectable distance between you and the aussie.

you pass out right around chandler’s vows.

you stir between two thick arms. pale, warm skin is wrapped around you, oscar’s soft breath fanning your face as he sleeps.

you watch him, scanning each and every mole on his face, trying to ground yourself. you combat the anxiety of being in his arms, choosing to enjoy the moment, while he’s still peaceful. it’s nice to feel wanted, even if he’s unconscious.

for the first time, you’re glad your ex broke up with you, because how does it make sense that you feel safer, more wanted in the arms of your best friend?

“stop staring, ‘m gonna blush.” oscar mumbles, clearing his throat. his eyes are still shut, but he just knows you too well.

oscar opens his eyes slowly, blinking away sleep. you stare at each other, comfortable silence eating away at the palpable tension.

you kiss him.

because why wouldn’t you? it’s oscar, your oscar, and he’s sleepy and cosy and gorgeous, and you’ve waited too fucking long. you can’t resist it any longer, free from the bounds of being someone else’s.

his lips are warm, and he’s startled, but the surprise doesn’t falter him; just as quickly as you kiss him, he’s kissing you back. his large hand finds your face, and the other finds your waist, pulling you closer. you melt into him, impossibly closer than you already were.

he’s gentle with you, tentative but firm and you part your lips, letting him lick into your mouth. his tongue strokes softly over yours and you keen at the sensation. he pushes you onto your back, balancing on his elbow half hovering over you. your hair fans out onto the pillow, his soft fingers running through your strands, pushing them away from your flushed face. oscar pulls away, scanning your face.

“sorry.” you smile up at him, breathless.

“apology very much accepted. i’ve been wondering when that would happen.” he laughs incredulously.

“really?”

“what can i say? i’m irresistible.” he replies dryly, exercising his sense of humour that was a foundation of your friendship.

“yeah. you kinda are.” you giggle bashfully.

and then he’s kissing you again, pressing himself even closer to you. you welcome him in, wrapping your arms around his lean frame, feeling over his shoulders. he’s tense, restrained, groaning into you at the feeling of your hands raking over his back.

“we should stop.” he mumbles, noses bumping. you frown.

“why?”

“because you said earlier, you’re not ready for this and i’m… well, things are gonna get real awkward if we keep going.” he chokes out half a laugh, glancing down at his-

“oh.”

“yeah, i just, i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. we can go slow.”

“osc, i wasn’t ready with him,” you pause, collecting your thoughts. “but you’re not him.”

“i suppose that’s true.” he shrugs.

“then you better do something.”

oscar lays you back, climbing over you completely this time. his trails over your jaw, taking your chin between his fingers.

“are you sure about this? we can stop anytime, just say the words.”

“‘m sure, oscar. i want to do this with you.” you coo, reassuringly.

his lips run over your neck, your collarbone, and he mouths at the collar of the t-shirt that you’re wearing. his t-shirt. his.

“gonna take this off, yeah?” he asks, whispering low, right by your ear.

“yeah, please.” you say, your own hands running under his t-shirt and up his muscular back. he’s relaxed now, no tension between his shoulder blades, and so you push the material up, and he slips it over his head. his warm digits peel your shirt off, too, and you’re warm all over when his eyes trail over your chest.

you’d forgone a bra, ditching it when you’d arrived at his place, and his pupils are blown wide, hazel hues sparkling with desire. his hands slide up your ribcage, thumbing at the underside of your breasts, while he plants open mouthed kisses down your chest. your eyes flutter shut, gasping softly as he skims your nipple.

“oscar.” you breathe, the light whimper sending his blood rushing south.

“does that feel good?” he asks, searching your face for answers.

“more.” you sound strained, desperate, and he aches.

his sucks your nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the swollen bud. he toys with the other one, massaging your breast with his skilful fingers, tweaking and pulling until you’re panting beneath him. he pulls away with a pop, licking over to the other side, deciding to test your limits when he nips delicately at the peak. you moan, bucking your hips, hypersensitive to his every move.

you can feel how hard he is, his grey joggers growing tighter with every passing second.

“want all of you, osc.” you plead.

“need to get you ready for me first, okay honey?” he rubs circles into your sides, warm and calloused. you relax fully, lifting your hips.

oscar mouthed over your belly, peppering sunshine-like kisses down your abdomen until he finds the band of your loose shorts. he mumbles something into you navel about taking them off and you nod, enthusiastic and frantic. you can feel his smile branding your sensitive skin. the material glides down your thighs, pooling at your ankles, and you kick them away. he parts your thighs, making himself comfortable on his belly, and thumbs at the crease of your leg, toying with your panties.

he drags his pointer finger over your covered slit, up and down slowly, applying more pressure every time he brushes over your clit. oscar can see where you’re starting to seep through your panties and he stifles a low groan, anxious to peel the cotton off of your body, the final barrier separating him from you, so he does, pulling them slowly down your legs. he studies your face as he does, keeping his eyes firmly on yours. your lip catches between your teeth, aching as you watch, helpless and wet.

oscar kisses your hip bone, sucking gently until he’s stained it purple, and then his warm breath is fanning your cunt. your eyes squeeze shut.

“look at me, baby. gotta keep your eyes on me.” oscar mutters. your pussy clenches around nothing at the tone of his voice. you pry your eyes open, just about managing to prop yourself up on your elbows. “that’s it, honey. has anyone ever done this to you before?”

you shake your head, no. he smiles to himself, like he knows something you don’t, and dives in.

his tongue works in slow strokes, dragging through your slick with intent, eyes locked with yours. you must look like a deer in headlights, pupils blown, shocked with pleasure when you collapse against the mattress. he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking, tasting, and your legs go weak, splayed open all for him. you whimper as he tugs your clit between his teeth, just enough to graze over the sensitive nerves. it sends your hips flying, bucking wildly against his face.

“osc…” you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut.

“‘m gonna give you some more, is that okay?” he asks, nose bumping your clit.

“yes, please.” you don’t know what more is, but you need it like air.

you feel a finger glide over your sodden flesh, rubbing over your entrance. you sigh out, oh, anticipation and bliss sending white heat down your spine. he circles his finger around your opening, coating it in you, and carefully slides it in, feeling out for any sign of tension or discomfort. when you grind your hips onto the single digit, he knows you’re okay.

it feels good, better than anything you’d ever felt on your own, and you writhe against his bedspread. he thrusts a couple of times, experimenting, seeing what makes you squirm for him the right way, and when his finger curls, hooking deliciously, he knows he’s struck gold. you arch off the bed, searching for more, more, anything.

“another one.” you cry, begging, and oscar’s not one to tease. not yet, anyway.

a second finger joins the lonesome first, and he finds some pace, fucking into you faster. he scissors the digits, stretching you out for him, enjoying the pretty view. he’s achingly hard now, rocking discreetly into the mattress, losing his mind as he watches how you drip around his fingers. he wants another taste of you, addicted already to sweet, salty honey, so he has to finish you off, lap your mess off of his long fingers.

“i think- i think-“ you can’t get the words out, they’re lost on your tongue, but oscar knows what you mean.

“that’s it, baby. so good for me, doing so good. cum for me.” he spurs you on, drawing it out of you.

you let go, crashing biblically, the high sending you to heaven and back, two times over. he grinds his fingers, softer, just enough to help you through it and you chant his name like you’re praying at an alter. you know that you’ll never be over this. your oscar.

“holy shit.” you giggle, smiling lazily as you return to the world of the living. he’s licking his fingers clean; you could black out so easily.

“did you enjoy that?” he punctuates with a kiss to your belly, crawling up your body until he’s hovering over you.

“maybe you should do it again, just so that i can really make sure that i did.” you tease. your hand rakes through his hair, pushing it back off of his face. he’s grinning down at you, eyes fluttering shut. “that was amazing.” you whisper. he’s blushing when he kisses you, and then you are too, when you taste yourself on his tongue.

he moans against your lips, making you pull back. your hand leaves his brown strands, joining your other, which is currently voyaging down his back.

“you’re wearing too many clothes.” you whisper, lips bumping his as your hands slide under the waistband of his sweats. something desperate emits from the back of his throat. you push them over his hips, fisting the thick fabric, eager to have him bare on top of you once and for all. oscar helps, kicking them away, boxers too.

you can feel him, thick and wet between your thighs, his breathing uneven. your nails graze his hip and he jolts, collapsing on top of you, his full weight covering your keening body. he kisses into the crook of your neck, frantic; you need him deep, immediately, his urgent change in form leaving you flushed.

“you want me?” he whispers into your ear, leaving you shivering.

“so bad.” you pant.

“i’ll be gentle.” he promises.

he guides himself through your folds, slippery and warm, all for him. he nudges the head inside of you, hips stuttering at the blinding tightness. you gasp, but he catches it in his mouth, softly moulding his lips to yours as he pushes further. you open up for him, pliant, and when he eventually bottoms out, he holds himself there, letting you adjust.

“oh, fuck.” your eyes roll back, nails leaving crescent marks in his shoulders.

“so good for me, so pretty.” oscar grunts. “say when, baby.” he breathes, rubbing soothing circles into your hip.

“move.”

oscar rolls his hips, rocking you into the mattress. he hooks your knee over his waist, driving himself deeper and deeper with every thrust. you’re boneless, lost to the delectable stretch, to the way his cock seems to touch every part of you that makes you quiver.

“tell me how it feels.” oscar murmurs, grip tightening on your thigh.

“fuck, oscar, it’s so good. ‘m so glad it’s you.” your voice shakes, raw with emotion.

“me fucking too.” he mumbles, increasing his pace ever so slightly.

his thrusts lull into more of a grind, reaching your depths and revelling in the way you only get tighter for him. you’re spilling around him, already so close to meeting your end, and all it takes is the calloused pad of his thumb brushing your bundle of nerves to have you convulsing. you’re somewhere else entirely, on a whole other spiritual plane, utterly and completely his as he fucks you through your second orgasm.

when he spills, white hot and sweat slicked, he gushes endless hushed whines of your name. it sounds perfect when he says it like this, rolling off of his tongue with dire urgency.

his dampened hair falls over his darkened eyes, full of stars and total adoration. you’re smiling sleepily up at him like he’s made of sunshine. you always thought he was, and now you know that he most definitely is.

the most beautiful sunshine man.

“hi.” he whispers.

“hi.” you whisper back.

an intimacy, different to the one you’ve just shared, blossoms between you, encapsulating you here with him endlessly.

“i’m gonna clean you up, ‘n then we’re gonna order food.” he gazes fondly, stroking your hair.

“perfect.” you agree.

“put friends back on, i’m gonna run you a bath.” he begrudgingly stands from the bed, trailing towards the en-suite.

“you’re gonna join me in there, right?” you admire his naked frame as he disappears into the bathroom.

“obviously.” he pokes his head out once more to scoff, and you lay there, grinning like the worlds most lovesick idiot, your thoughts dulled by the sound of running water.

when the bath is full of hot water and too many bubbles, he gets in first, and you sink into the revitalising heat. oscar pulls you close, your back to his chest, kissing over your hairline as you mould yourself against him.

“thank god you broke in.”

oh i’m soft

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne

lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3

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zeehasablog · 6 months ago

Text

The Yellow Wallpaper

Based on the short story written by Charlotte Perkins Gilman, The Yellow Wallpaper is short story, written as first person journal entries. The narrator is experiencing severe depression after the birth of a child, and her husband rents a home for the Summer, with hopes she can recover. She is confined to an upstairs nursery, where we find The Yellow Wallpaper.

As a form of treatment, the husband forbids the journal writer from working or writing, and encourages her to eat well and get plenty of air so that she can recuperate from what he calls a "temporary nervous depression – a slight hysterical tendency", a common diagnosis in women at the time. (wiki)

Of course, she still writes; as she descends into madness, obsessing about the wallpaper, which appears to pull her in. Seeing a woman creeping through it.

At night in any kind of light, in twilight, candlelight, lamplight, and worst of all by moonlight, it becomes bars! The outside pattern I mean, and the woman behind it is as plain as can be. I didn’t realize for a long time what the thing was that showed behind,—that dim sub-pattern,—but now I am quite sure it is a woman... It is always the same shape, only very numerous. And it is like a woman stooping down and creeping about behind that pattern.

SO; here, we have the beautifully created pattern by @femmefatalegoth, inspired by the wallpaper described above. See if you can find the women in its intricacy.

I have added cornices and wainscotting, and a version with cornice and baseboard only.

I really didn't want to change the colour of the wallpaper , because it's The Yellow Wallpaper. So; sorry, not sorry, to those who want it in different colours - but feel free to do it yourself if you know how!

Unfortunately, due to limitations on how the wallpaper is made up in the game, I've had to do separate files to each type of cornice & wainscot:

I added the feature to make Sims tense when they're around the wallpaper!

Anyway - I hope you like these as much as I LOVE them! The colour is very bright, and it really helps you feel like the narrator in The Yellow Wallpaper.

I highly recommend reading the story. Maybe you can relate it to how you have felt at some time - I certainly have.

Download for free via Curseforge~

#TheSims4 #The Sims 4 #TS4 #my cc #the sims #sims community #ts4 cc #simblr #sims 4 custom content #victorian #wallpaper #The Yellow Wallpaper #Charlotte Perkins Gilman #Yellow #femmefatalegoth #historiccc #historicalcc #historic sims

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diz-eaze · 2 months ago

Text

SANCTUARY. (soft yandere! wanderer x gn reader)

: written weeks after the release of inversion of genesis (2022).

; Wanderer loves you to the point where it sinks deep into your bones. For obsession and he are synonymous - there's hardly any difference in your eyes.

“To be loved is to be changed.”

WINTER DOES not come in Sumeru, as opposed to Snezhnaya where the icy breeze and pure white snow are everyday occurrences. In Sumeru, the air is humid and the sun blazes down with no mercy upon those treading the streets and grounds. The heat on some days is unbearable and the citizens loathe it. And between the biting frost of Snezhnaya or the sweat-inducing atmosphere of Sumeru, Wanderer does not know which one he’d prefer dying to.

But one thing he’s sure of is that living life in Sumeru City feels normal, to the point he feels like it’s abnormal. It’s abnormal because someone like him - so embedded and stained with sin - should not be living life the way he is now. Someone like him does not deserve the leisure of strolling through the streets and calmly inspecting the fruits and vegetables the vendors have on sale, only to hear their grating voices urging him to buy as many as possible.

Someone like him, the Wanderer, does not enjoy this life of luxury - this sense of normality. Not when his sins bore deep into his soul and clutched on like an icky stain on his clothes - always there and reminding him of the atrocities he committed when he was still Scaramouche.

He knows that he does not deserve the current leisure and freedom his life has right now, yet the benevolence of the Dendro Archon serves proof and weight that despite it all, she found kindness within her heart to allow him a chance to live - to flourish under the land of Dendro and her protection. The restoration of his memories and identity is his form of atonement, a journey that’ll span for years and centuries to come; of him bearing his sins.

Yet admittedly, he can’t help but feel a bit lost on what he’s to do now - he’s clueless. The Wanderer knows that he wants to explore the vast lands Teyvat has to offer, but he’d prefer to stay and linger around Sumeru for some time (to recuperate? To get his bearings together? He does not know). And as he watches the people of Sumeru live their lives, something deep within the deep void of his being aches and twists in agony.

He’s envious.

The Wanderer watches in envy, so much envy it consumes him whole, as he sees a child tugging on their mother’s sleeve, drawing her attention to a seller. He sees an Akademiya student lounging around in Puspa cafe, complaining to their classmate about upcoming deadlines and thesis defense. He eyes a man sheepishly picking out a bouquet of flowers, most likely a gift for his lover. He spots children haphazardly running around alleyways and how they avoid the nagging hands of the adults, urging them to stop.

It’s like this every day, where The Wanderer idles around and watches countless people pass by him, taking in the mundane lives of such fragile, visionless humans as it invokes deep jealousy within him. These people may not have visions but they have things he can’t - to be human, to be complete, and to belong.

Nahida, the ever-kind, advises him to stop gawking at humans so much. ‘It’s fine to be curious about their nature’ she said, ‘but to develop deep negative emotions is not beneficial at all. I suggest you cease your habit before it goes out of hand, you know the lengths you’ve gone to because of your hatred for humanity. I simply do not want history to repeat itself, nor to see you hurt. Have you tried cooking as an alternative? Or perhaps attending the Akademiya would suffice?’

He had brushed off her words of course because he knows his limits and where he stands - he’s something akin to a phantom, his identity should not exist within this quaint world and all previous traces of him have been erased through the Irminsul. He knows what he is and that yearning for a place to belong in the society of humans is nothing more than a mere pipedream. But he refuses to budge on his hobby of people-watching.

And so Nahida resorts to other methods, if he does not desire to learn cooking or to study in the Akademiya, then perhaps companionship is what he needed all along.

But companionship does not easily to The Wanderer - to be vulnerable is to be weak. To be loved is to shed all the hard layers and tear down the towering walls he built upon himself. It’s no easy feat, and he knows what humans are capable of doing in the name of greed - to hurt, to betray, and to break with no remorse.

Deep down, as reluctant as he may be to admit it, he fears the concept of ‘love’. He knows love from the betrayals he faced, and experienced it, even. Love from his mother, or lack thereof. Love from his newfound friends, the warmth he felt at having an actual connection with humans. Love from the child he’d taken under his wing, the joy he had as he treated the child like a sibling.

And he knows how love can destroy the entire being of a singular person. He knows what it’s like to live without love - a slow and suffocating death. The feeling of just drifting aimlessly and living for the sole purpose of revenge; to thrive on the feeling of hatred and chaos. Because as a Harbinger, he preferred it that way. Love was not a necessity he needed or wanted, and so he let the foolish yearn for such a measly thing while he walks the path of becoming a god.

Even now, as Wanderer, he can’t say he fully embraces love. Nahida cares for him and knows that, to her, he’s more than some useful asset to her nation. But he does not know if she loves him or if her kindness to him is genuinely caring and he struggles to understand the concept of her taking care of him, the him who has been stripped of all power and social hierarchy from his position.

‘Because we’re quite similar, more than you’d think’, her voice echoes in his mind. ‘And due to that, I’d like for us to treat each other as family. Do you not agree?’

‘Why?’ he recalls answering.

‘Why not.’ And he remembers the way the Archon struggled on her tippy toes, trying her best to pat his head. ‘I think you deserve to be loved.’

The Wanderer disagrees. He does not deserve love, in any shape or form. He does not need the love the Archon offers to him, and he knows that she’s trying to fill in the spaces and spots where his creator (mother) lacked - a proper parental figure. But, he has no need for it. Not when all is said and done.

Love, like his want to be human, is just one of his many dreams.

Somehow, his feet lead him inside the grand Akademiya, aimlessly wandering at a time when it’s nearing night. The scholars and researchers around know better than to apprehend a ‘person’ who does not don their traditional outfits - their Archon heeded that a man with an Anemo vision should not be bothered at all costs, after all. Thus, he has free reign to go over whatever the Akademiya has to offer.

No one knows how and why Lesser Lord Kusanali shows such favoritism over someone they’ve never seen before, let alone someone who didn’t take part in the mission of rescuing her (if only they know that he was part of the problem, back then). But their Archon’s words are absolute and her personal affairs are none of theirs to pry into - so they nod obediently and refrained from letting their curiosity peaked.

He walks the halls of the Akademiya, ready to depart soon. The sun has long set and the world is slowly being dyed in dark blue with the moonshine being its only source of light. It’s relatively quiet, the only notable sounds are his steps and the quiet chatter of lingering students. Wanderer makes a turn to the corner and meets someone he wasn’t expecting to; Nahida.

Next to the Archon from his peripheral vision, he spots green, a particular shade of it, intertwined with white robes and finished off with gold linings. He knows that attire - it’s the Akademiya’s standard uniform, worn by all students (with some rare exceptions). Indigo eyes trail over to the owner of the robes and find a rather pretty face. But what’s unusual is for a student to be so buddy-buddy with the Archon herself, walking the halls of the Akademiya as if it’s a normal Tuesday afternoon.

The Akademiya student is as normal as they can get; visionless, and pretty but not someone you would take a double glance at, they seem to be an Amurta student from the icon in their hat, and their lips are animatedly moving; clearly passionate about the topic at hand. His legs’ steady rhythm of walking comes to a stop; right in front of the duo. Their conversation is halted and the Akademiya student’s eyes are inquisitive as they take his appearance in. Scrutinizing.

Nahida’s eyes light up and she greets him in good nature. “It’s been a while, Wanderer.” A few weeks, to be exact. “How has life been fairing for you? Did something in the Akademiya pique your interest?”

He indignantly scoffs, “As if.”

Unfamiliar with their banter, the Akademiya student cuts in with a sharp edge to their tone. “I respectfully ask you to not talk to the Archon like that, Mister.”

Wanderer raises a brow, taunting as he takes a step closer to them. “Huh, and what is a visionless nobody like you going to do about it?”

The student steps forward, too. Brows furrowed, annoyance dancing in their eyes, and the Wanderer almost forgot how fun it is to rile people up. Their distaste for him paints a smirk on his lips. “Well, this visionless student is capable of-”

Nahida’s giggle is reminiscent of bell chimes as it cuts through their hostile exchange. She merrily claps her hands and her eyes hold a spark in them that the Wanderer knows is up to no good. This can only mean one thing; the Archon has thought of a mischievous idea and plans to execute it, possibly right now.

The student’s posture straightens out and they stiffly turn to apologize profusely for causing trouble. “My deepest apologies, Lesser Lord Kusanali. I should have kept my emotions in check, rather than letting annoyance get the best of me.”

The Wanderer makes a point to roll his eyes in annoyance. “Whatever.”

Nahida sweetly smiles at them. “It’s fine, please don’t worry yourself over meaningless things, (Y/N). In fact, I think the two of you were quite amusing! It’s always a wonder to witness conflicts in real-time. It makes me ponder the different ways to resolve it, and how each factor contributed to starting the said conflict.”

“When you put it that way…” The student, now named (Y/N), nods resolutely at Nahida’s words - clearly absorbing any and every knowledge the God of Wisdom gives.

“Hmph, if you have nothing better to say, I’ll be on my way now.” Wanderer swivels and turns to make a swift exit, only to stop at the feeling of Nahida’s hand clutching onto one of his sleeves.

“What.” He hisses out, red-lined eyes squinting at her dwarf figure - feeling like the God is onto something nefarious - no, he knows it.

The Dendro Archon puts on her best puppy face and baby voice as she pleads to him. “Please walk (Y/N) to their apartment, it’s getting late now and I fear they might attract the wrong type of crowd - or worse, encounter monsters.”

(Y/N) gasps in utter disbelief, mortified at the prospect of their nation’s God pleading for a favor just for them. “Oh, dear Kusanali, there’s absolutely no need for that! I cannot fathom troubling you or that Mister over there. I’ll be fine, I assure you.”

But Nahida, as wise and smart as she may be, refuses to let go of her grip on the Wanderer’s sleeve. “Please, Wanderer? I simply hope to keep one of my citizens safe.”

“Lesser Lord Kusanali, it truly is fine! Please don’t trouble yourself over-”

“Please?”

Right now, she’s no different from a child near a temper tantrum - and he would have laughed by now had it not been him who was the target of her schemes.

There’s an ulterior motive to the Archon’s words and he can’t decipher what her exact intentions are, no matter how hard he tries to search for an answer on her face he comes up with point blank. Had it been anyone else, the Wanderer would not hesitate to give a middle finger and refuse them with no second thought.

But Nahida is not just anyone, this is the God kind enough to allow him another chance at life; a way to pay for his sins. This is the guardian of Sumeru who treats him like he was born in this nation all his life. She is the Archon gentle and persistent enough to establish a genuine bond with him - this the same person that tips toes between the standing line of sister and mother in this new life of his. Nahida is the closest thing he has to a family.

So, with a resigned sigh, he stares deep into (Y/N)’s eyes - as if he wants to peer into their soul. “Okay, fine. You win. I’ll escort them to their apartment.”

(Y/N) sputters in disbelief, at a loss for words while Nahida cheers, finally letting go of his sleeve.

In hindsight, perhaps that day was the beginning of his fall. And he doesn’t know if the person to blame is (Y/N) or Nahida.

In the first month of knowing (Y/N), Wanderer disregards them as someone close to the Archon he now serves - nothing more, nothing less. And maybe there is merit to be found in the way he thinks of them a little higher compared to an average human being, but that’s only because of their affiliation with Nahida. Purely because of Nahida.

When stripped away of their friendship with the benevolent Archon, they are merely a visionless student of the Akademiya - one of the many. A nobody that has nothing to stand out in a crowd. A pretty face, but not a face people would fight tooth and nail over. Intelligent and studious, but their research papers are nothing groundbreaking.

(Y/N) is not the odd one out, nor are they the showstopper - (Y/N) is simply mediocre.

So painfully mediocre that it baffles him as to why Nahida insists on him walking them back home every single night, without fail. Her cover-up of simply being concerned for (Y/N)’s safety weakens day by day as through the time he’s escorted them, there had been zero casualties. Not a monster in sight, and no drunkards harassing them either.

It’s clear to both Wanderer and the Archon that (Y/N) needs no protecting, not when they’re in the city of Sumeru - where the Matra are active day and night, patrolling the streets for the safety of people and to look out for any dubious scholars.

This begs the question and the reason for his confrontation with her right now; why insist?

“Spill it out already,” He sighs, exasperated with her antics as he corners Nahida inside the Sanctuary of Surasthana. “What are you trying to get out of this?”

“Haha…” Nahida forcibly laughs, aware that he now knows she’s planning something. Raising her tiny hands up in surrender, she smiles to placate him. “You’ve caught me!”

“That I do.” Wanderer doesn’t relent with his interrogation. “Well?”

“Well,” Nahida clears her throat, racking her brain for the best way to formulate her response without causing him to feel insulted or looked down upon. “I think they’re right for you - (Y/N), I mean.”

Wanderer arches a brow, prodding her to continue.

“I’ve thought about it for some months ever since I took you under my care; every day I asked myself; what is it I can do for him? For you to lose at least a smidge of that scowl on your face?” Nahida’s voice quiets down to a small whisper. “You watch people night and day without fail, and I’ve warned you that it might bring some negativity to your life. But you still continue to do so.”

“…What of it?” And Wanderer hates the way his voice edges on being weak, close to cracking and being vulnerable - because he will never fathom the lengths Nahida goes through just to make him comfortable living in her nation.

“You crave companionship and love, yet you’re unable to take the first step of initiating.”

“That’s because I don’t need to-”

“Yet you want to. You live off fear of rejection and abandonment, and I can’t have that - if I let you wither and ruminate in negative feelings then I will be no better than the previous people you’ve associated with.” Her small hands move to grasp his, akin to a mother comforting their child. “Wanderer, I’ve said this before and I will say it once more; I want you to flourish. I want you to find companionship and to find a place or someone you can call your home.”

A beat of silence passes before Nahida speaks again. “I want- no, I need you to be happy.”

“And the first step in doing that is to make friends, hence my insistence on you escorting (Y/N) home.” Nahida smiles, as comforting as the setting sun and as sweet as her favorite desserts. “It’s fine if you don’t end up being friends with them, let alone acquaintanceship, what’s important is taking the first step. There’s no rush in creating bonds, please don’t feel pressured that you have to be on good terms with them.”

“If it is fated, they will be your first friend in this incarnation of yours. If not, then there will be an inevitable time when you meet someone else.”

Wanderer scoffs, “If you are not my first friend, then what are you?”

He knows what she’s about to say, he just needs confirmation and reassurance that he’s not entirely alone in this lonely world of his.

Nahida giggles, “Your family, of course.” She childishly puffs out her cheeks, and Wanderer is reminded of the ill boy he took care of, many centuries ago. Ah, but what’s in the past must stay in the past.

He is not Kunikuzushi, Kabukimono, or Scaramouche - he is a Wanderer, a drifting phantom who serves the Dendro Archon in the nation of Sumeru.

“So please, at least try with (Y/N) before giving up?”

Wanderer furrows his brows and gives in. “Fine.”

Stars are brought forth in Nahida’s flower eyes as she claps in glee, letting go of his hands. “Oh! If that’s the case, then you have to know their interests and dislikes!”

“Is that not my job to wrangle out of them?”

“It’s to speed things up! This way, you’ll know what and which topics to avoid or lean into.” She skips around her pod, rummaging through trinkets Wanderer never even knew existed. Is this where Nahida stores information of whatever she deems fit, or is everything locked within the vast expanse of her mind?

That day, Wanderer spends the entire time getting his mind overloaded with information (courtesy of Nahida) about (Y/N), as if he was being prepared for a life-changing exam that determines his future and entire worth. It’s troublesome and Wanderer wants nothing more than to bail out of it.

But he promised that he’d try, promised that he’ll make an effort.

If he wants to belong, then he must put in the work.

Nahida’s words echo in his mind, once more. ‘I think you deserve to be loved.’

‘I think you deserve to be loved.’

Love.

…

If she must think so, then he must believe so.

Wanderer has always known he’s not one for conversations, especially those that entail past the surface level of getting to know a person. He wholeheartedly admits that being social is not a strong point of his - for socialization was not a requirement he needed to get stronger.

He somewhat regrets that sentiment now, walking side by side with the Akademiya student he’s been escorting for over a month, choked up on how to properly maneuver an interaction - at a loss for a conversation starter. Should he comment on the weather? Or maybe it would be preferable if he mentioned how their research progress is coming along? Or do they prefer topics that stray away from the Akademiya, instead preferring questions that entail their hobbies?

Ah, as expected, socializing is as taxing as ever.

But he must try, if not for him then for Nahida.

Taking a deep breath, Wanderer abruptly swivels around to face (Y/N), halting their quiet walk. “Uhm-,” His tongue stumbles for a second and he curses himself.

“Yes? Is there anything wrong?” (Y/N) is quick to voice out their concern, for Wanderer to say anything is no regular occurrence.

“No, there’s no such thing.” Wanderer is quick to shut them down, and he mentally cringes at the harsh way his tone came off. He must think of something - quick. “…The weather is quite, satisfactory.”

…

A deafening silence follows after his words, and it feels like even the annoying crickets have quieted down just for a brief moment.

He fights the urge to grit his teeth.

Wanderer feels like floating off the ground and retreating into Nahida’s Sanctuary, just to give her a piece of his mind, because in what part of her pea-sized brain thought that her plan would work out, thought that he’d be able to conver-

“Yes! It is indeed, uhm, satisfactory.” Akin to snapping out of a stupor, (Y/N) hurriedly agrees with him. Then they relax once more, taking their time to appreciate the skies above them. “It truly is a sight to see… the setting sun.”

Wanderer mutely agrees, copying their action and setting his indigo gaze up ahead. From the corner of his eyes, he sees (Y/N) staring like the sky was a form of miracle - it befuddles him so. “Do you like the sky? The sun, the moon, and the stars?”

(Y/N) glances at him for a brief second before it settles back into gazing up. Their tongue peeks out to wet their lips as if buying time to formulate an answer. “I suppose so, I appreciate them like just as normal people do.”

What qualifies as normal people? Wanderer scowls.

“I am not a student under Rtawahist, after all.” They finish, leveling their gaze to meet his. “How about you, do you like the sky?”

“…Neutral.” Comes his belated answer, lackluster and bleak, going back to looking up at the sky, letting silence befall them. So much for an attempt at conversation, he supposes.

His companion simply hums and basks at the moment as is. He dares not to acknowledge how pleasant their humming is, lest he be teased for it.

After a few moments, (Y/N) voices out, “As nice as this may be, I’m afraid I really must be going home soon. I do not intend to cut your sky-gazing short, so I’m fine with trekking alone.”

They dust off the particles on their clothing and send him an inquisitive look, waiting for his final verdict. But as if a lightbulb went off, their mouth makes an ‘O’ shape.

“Which reminds me, what caused you to pause our walk earlier? Is it truly just because of the weather, nothing else?”

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Perhaps consulting friendship advice with the person he intends to befriend will benefit him more - if they laugh at his face and belittle him, then who will blame him for the sudden strong gust of wind?

You win some, you lose some when it comes to taking risks. And perhaps, the person in front of him is a risk he’s willing to take.

He opens his mouth, hesitant to voice it out - yet in the end the words tumble out like Pandora’s box. “I want to be friends with you.”

And (Y/N)’s breath must have been taken away by the Anemo Archon with the way their voice hitches. Caught off-guard. Not at all expecting his words.

Their eyes widen and suddenly Wanderer feels scrutinized - like a butterfly with its wings pinned, like a bacteria under a microscope, like a slime being inspected. It’s foreign, to feel this way.

Then at long last, they finally say something. A measly, “Oh.”

Wanderer’s eyebrows pinch, and he scoffs incredulously. “Oh?” He echoes. Taunting and meant to resonate with them - because what do they mean by ‘oh’?

“Ah! It’s not like that, I was just caught surprised, my apologies!” (Y/N) placates him and tries to describe their distress by making vague and wild hand motions - in which it’s just them waving around blindly, overcome by distress.

“It’s just that,” they sigh. “I didn’t expect you’d want to be friends with me, to be truthful with you.”

Wanderer furrows his brows even more. “Why is that?”

“You always seemed so closed off when it comes to,” They vaguely gesture to the space between them. “This. Like you’re above making friends, which I guess is true - if Lesser Lord Kusanali’s words about you are anything to go by.”

So Nahida has been talking about him to (Y/N), and he jeers at the thought. He stays quiet, sensing that (Y/N) isn’t quite done yet.

“But don’t get me wrong.” They take a step forward. “I’m not against it, if anything, I’m delighted at the prospect. To be sincere with you, I don’t have many friends at the Akademiya. Research always takes up too much time, and-”

They pause, sensing their voice becoming vulnerable. “And, In the Akademiya, friendships are incredibly fragile. All it takes is one incompetence in a partner study before it crumbles.”

Wanderer finishes it for them. “It’s frightening.”

(Y/N) nods, “Indeed.” Their eyes peer up at him, hopeful, and a smile is threatening to break out. “Which is why, I don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind being friends with you if you tell me your name,” Their smile blooms like flowers on a field, joyful.

Perhaps, Nahida had been right. He does need a friend, this person - (Y/N) - in particular.

And Wanderer feels like Icarus, with the way he’s flying too close to the sun - hands and wings reaching out to reach the impossible.

He feels it prickling at the back of his mind, this impending sense of doom. That all good things will come to an end.

Just like Icarus, he knows he’s bound to burn and crash. Knows that after the high, he will be left trying to stay up float in the middle of the ocean - but if it’s your doing, then he does not mind. Not one bit.

Like a stamped seal to an envelope, he gifts you the name he had thought was long discarded.

“Kuni.” He gazes at them with triumph in his eyes - a cat that got the cream. “Call me Kuni.”

Months fly by like the wind, and before he knows it, Wanderer has known (Y/N) for half a year.

Having one, sole friend inescapably ends up with his life revolving around theirs - unknowingly or not. After becoming wholly and fully comfortable with (Y/N), Wanderer accompanies them morning, noon, and night; up until he bids them goodbye at their front porch. Nahida would compare him to a leech, or better yet, a parasite - had the comparison not leave her fighting for her life should she bring it up to him.

Nevertheless, it’s an amusing sight. And for the first time in a long, long while, Nahida feels like she’s done something to help a citizen of Sumeru. If his actions are anything to go by, the Wanderer is content now, for now, at least. He’s stopped his habit of people-watching, not when his time is occupied with (Y/N). He no longer lingers around the Bazaar with heavy feelings of envy.

While he’s reluctant to admit it, Wanderer is the closest thing to being happy as of now.

And if he’s happy, then Nahida is overjoyed. Nahida roots for him behind the scenes, pushes him to attend some of the Akademiya lectures, makes him create the occasional political paper to submit and publish, and urges him to help out (Y/N) in academics - essentially turning him into a student of the Akademiya, just for the opportunity to spend more time with his newfound friend.

And Wanderer huffs and puffs, complains and sneers all he wants in the face of Nahida, but they both know that he appreciates the lengths she’s going to for his friendship. He had always shown appreciation in the most unorthodox ways, after all. As words have never been his strong suit, never had, and never will.

So when Nahida sees him and (Y/N) exit one of their shared lectures, oblivious to the world around them and too engrossed in their conversation - Nahida opts to cheekily smile and leave them be.

Because Nahida doubts that friends look at friends the way he does with (Y/N).

(Y/N) is Kuni’s self-proclaimed best friend (and unknowingly, his only one). The person he sticks with when he occasionally shows up to the lectures, the person he eats breakfast, lunch, and dinner with, the person he immediately goes to partner up with when needed, and the person he consults to beta read his political papers.

To be frank, (Y/N) is the moon that revolves around him, the earth.

(Y/N) orbits around him like a buzzing bee, like an axis. And people would usually ridicule them, for they are blind with the way Kuni returns these actions albeit in a more concealed, hidden manner. Because while (Y/N) may be the one orbiting around him, Kuni could never fathom the thought of his eyes looking anywhere else but at theirs.

Because truthfully, you are more than the moon to him. You are the axis of his universe, the reason why there's a sun, the solution why life thrives, and the answer to every question he has.

(A thought lingers in the back of his mind every time he gazes at you, like a bee’s buzz.)

(That perhaps, everything he ever suffered for was all to meet you. That all the pain and betrayals he faced was the price he had to pay just to welcome you into his life. If that had been the case, then it all makes sense now. Because he’d go through hell and back if it means ensuring that he’ll meet you in the next life, and the life after that, and lives following after)

Kuni is not stupid, he knows that his relationship with you at this point tip-toes between the thin line of friends and lovers. More than friends, but not quite lovers.

Yet like a chicken hesitating to cross the road, like a coward scared of taking a leap - he’s scared to cross the line and furthering his relationship with (Y/N) into a romantic territory. And so, he bids his time and contents with himself by being a friend.

Because that’s what he is, a good friend. And he dares not to ruin the Sanctuary he’s find within their presence - a haven he’s not willing to risk.

But who’s to say he can’t adore them?

The amount of his love is something that can't be contained in his body, because his love shows in everything he does - bleeds through his every action, most especially when it’s done for the sake of helping (Y/N).

His love shows in the way he puts in care, it shows in the way he handles their requests and favors with utmost delicacy, showcases in how he’d always prioritize what (Y/N) wanted over everything else - because that’s love. Love makes people fools, and he’s hopelessly captivated by someone who laughs at the most ridiculous things and looks like the most ethereal person he’s ever had the grace to chance upon.

And everything he does now, is all for them. Had always been for them.

(He became a reluctant Akdemiya because that’d mean he’d be in the same environment with (Y/N). He tones down his aggressive nature with his fellow peers in fear he’d drag down their reputation. He works hard on his political analysis papers in hopes of impressing them and indirectly giving them credits. (Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N).

(Y/N).)

Today, he had chosen you accompany them along star-gazing. Kuni had never been one for Astrology, but if it means to be with them, then he can pretend to at least be interested in whatever that fake sky entails.

The soft, muted steps of their shoes repeatedly sound out against the ground as they work toward their destination - Kuni not far behind. With the night sky blanketing over Sumeru, and most of its occupants soundly asleep, Kuni feels content as he feels the cool air hit his exposed skin.

This slow, walking pace of them both has him appreciating Sumeru - in a way he never had before. He has never noticed the certain way that small field of flowers near the village was planted, had only noticed the amount of Sumpter beasts increasing in number as they near the Rainforests, and just now noticed how good (Y/N) looks basking under the moonlight.

Its light paints them like an ethereal and unattainable piece of art, and it reminds Kuni of the painting back in Fontaine. If (Y/N) had been a Fontaine painting, then he’d drop whatever fortune was necessary just to obtain them.

Soon enough they arrive at their destination, atop a mountain, with no sweat broken due to the cold air. (Y/N) moves to set up their workspace and babbles about how they’re doing this for a friend of theirs - Kuni can barely recall, Lilac, was it?

Kuni should feel guilty - should feel shame with the way (Y/N)’s words are going in one ear and out in the other, but he can’t help it. Not when they look like a dream just mere inches away from him.

And he stares.

Stares, until (Y/N)’s eyes catches his own and they just smile his way - all sweet and addicting all the same, reminiscent of all things good in this world - before returning back to getting the Astrolabe to work.

And fuck, he’d always known since day one that he’d inevitably become entangled with (Y/N), to the point where he begins and where they end are discernable. But shit, the feeling itself - the sheer realization hits him all at once and it’s so overwhelming. In the best way possible - in the most liberating method and it fuels life into him like it’s pumped gas.

Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche, Wanderer (but most especially Wanderer, because he’s the carnation that met (Y/N) ) - all pieces and bits and fragments of himself, all his incarnations; past, present, and future are irrevocably, deeply, devastatingly in love with (Y/N).

He loves them as a friend, a best friend, a soultmate, a partner, a lover, a spouse, a partner in crime, and fated match. He loves them in every possible way.

It’s like every cell of his lit up on fire at that thought alone, and he wonders if his creator made him to love this monstrous way or is this just how he truly loves, like a monster, like a beast?

He loves (Y/N) - loves them so much he’d repeatedly say it until he’s bleed his throat dry and broken his voice box. Wants to show it to the point where he’d turn Teyvat in and itself upside down just to prove it. Because those measly Inazuman novels could never capture this feeling of love, pales in comparison, even - the all encompassing feeling that swallows and envelopes him whole with no room to breathe - just overloading on them, them, them.

He’d stop time and space, rewrite over the irminsul over and over again, bleed and cut his body, traverse the Abyss for archons know how long - just to see them smile, just to see a spark of joy in their eyes. Just to keep the flame in (Y/N)’s iris alive and burning.

Because (Y/N) are the stars that decorate his night sky, the shining beacon to his bleak life. The light to his shadow. He is him, and they are them; two halves of a greater whole. Great by itself but better when together.

And he gazes at them with pure love and bliss in his indigo eyes - looks at them like they’re all he’s ever known, as they continue to map out the placements of the stars. In this moment, Kuni makes a silent prayer to Nahida (a silent thank you, for everything she’s done for his sake, because had it not been for her then he never would have met them).

For there are stars and galaxies swirling within their eyes as they gaze up at the night sky and he can't help but think that love has never felt this good.

Love has never felt this addicting.

But he wants it all the same - wants (Y/N) and their love, and everything else they have to offer. Wants it all with nothing, lest a crumb, left. Their laugh he’d die for, their smile he’d kill for, and their love he’d sacrifice for.

(In the quiet of the night, “I love you.” slipped past his lips as he basks in every feeling of bliss known to man - whether (Y/N) had heard him or not, does not matter, there plenty more opportunities to repeat his word.)

Because he is nothing but a mere seeker for his Sanctuary.

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skyahri · 1 year ago

Text

One Bed |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Kakashi Hatake, and Shikamaru Nara.

Summary: Classic one bed trope.

Warnings: Kissing. Bed sharing. Lead up to smut but no smut.

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

Sasuke Uchiha

It was shortly after the war.

The village was still recuperating from the loss, as was every other village, but there were still missions that needed to be fulfilled.

You were off to do some security work for the Daimyo, who had specifically requested the two of you to watch over his land while they rebuilt.

The only issue was that upon arrival, it wss revealed you'd be sharing a single room.

"You aren't the only ones to have suffered during the battle. Half of my property was destroyed!"

There wasn't much you could do, so you bit the bullet and followed one of the Ladies in Waiting to where you'll be staying.

One room? Whatever. One bed? Absolutely not.

You protested. It was inappropriate, even if you had known Sasuke for well over a decade at this point.

"We are low on resources at the moment, Y/L/N-san, Uchiha-san. It's why we have asked for your assistance in the first place."

You looked at Sasuke, who just gave you the same bored expression he always has.

You thanked the woman and began getting settled in your room. Sasuke offered to sleep on the floor, which you told him not to bother with.

You'd likely be here a few weeks, so it'd be best if you were both comfortable.

Sasuke was nice enough to let you shower first, which you'd gladly taken after two days' worth of travel.

He waited patiently for you to finish so he could prepare for bed as well. It was late, almost midnight, and he was tired.

It was awkward the first night. You'd slept uncomfortably back to back with this weird air around you.

You'd put on your most conservative pair of pajamas despite how warm the room was, and that only made things worse.

The second night wasn't much better.

But by the third night, you both grew tired of the tension. It was difficult to be fully rested when you'd slept terribly, so you formed some kind of unspoken, mutual respect for now.

You'd opted for your normal nighttime attire - a pair of shorts and thin t-shirt. You already felt better.

Sasuke, on the other hand, had been grateful for your prudish clothing. He had never said anything before, not that he had the time to, but he'd always been attracted to you.

Your revealing pajamas were not helping his comfort, so while you slept better that night, he did not.

Nor the next night.

Or the night after that.

By then, you'd become very aware of his antics. On top of being physically aware that he wasn't sleeping, you'd also become annoyed by his poor attitude.

He was already an ass as is, you really didn't need him sleep deprived on top of it.

So that night, as you lay in bed next to him, you roll onto your stomach and prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

"What's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem."

"Really? Could've fooled me."

He tsked at you. Why'd you have to be so annoying?

You pushed yourself up so you'd be sitting on your knees, your hands flat on the bed so you could still lean forward to talk to him.

His eyes darted down to your chest before looking away entirely.

No way. There was absolutely no way.

"Are you... bothered by my clothes?"

"Don't be stupid." He snapped.

You tried to suppress a knowing smirk but failed.

So you leaned forward and kissed him.

Despite his surprise, he immediately responded to your kiss, going so far as to roll you over onto your back so he'd be on top of you.

"Maybe I am a bit bothered."

Kakashi Hatake

This is Kakashi’s first Kage Summit, and he asked you to be his plus one.

You accepted with no hesitation. You were anxious to get out of the village since the war ended and going out with Kakashi was sure to make it all the more interesting.

The summit was boring. That's a good thing compared to the last summit, but it still made you want to gouge your eyes out. They discussed the status of their villages and what sort of issues they'd been running into, blah blah blah.

When it was nearing midnight and everyone was growing tired, they agreed to call it a night and resume in the morning.

Everyone went to their respective quarters, but when you got to the Leaf Village's wing, there was only a single room with a bed.

Apparently, during the rebuild, they'd slipped up and only added a single room instead of the usual two, and no one had noticed (Thanks Sasuke).

It wasn't too big of a deal. You'd known Kakashi since your Genin days and slept in the same room plenty of times.

You were a bit surprised when he actually got into bed with you though.

Despite all those sleepovers, this was the first time you'd actually slept so close together.

You stared at him. Not on purpose, just happened to be doing so while your mind was racing.

"Is this an issue? I can sleep on the floor."

You shook your head.

"You sure? You were giving me quite the look."

"I was just... wondering what you'd look like under the mask."

You lied. You couldn't tell him how you were thinking about sleeping in bed with him and it's implications.

He snorted and did something that completely caught you off guard.

He pulled down his mask.

You blushed. How could you not? All these years, and he chooses now, the most random moment, to finally reveal such a wel kept secret.

And then he does something else that yo weren't expecting.

He leans forward and kisses you. You kiss back. He pulls away after a minute.

"I've been waiting to do that since we were teenagers."

You laugh at him, then pull him in for another kiss.

Shikamaru Nara

Shikamaru, being the lazy man he is, put off booking a room to stay in for so long that there was only a single room left st the inn.

You'd scolded him, and he took it, knowing he should've done it when he'd gotten the mission report.

The room was on the smaller side and contained only a single bed and dresser.

Neither of you were interested in sleeping on the floor for the next week, so you agreed to share the bed.

Something you wouldn't have done if you'd known Shikamaru was such a... uncharacteristically chaotic sleeper.

Seriously, he moved around more at night than he did during the entire day. Maybe it's all the pent up energy.

Within an hour of him knocking out, he was already sprawled out across most of the bed, leaving you two options: sleep on the edge or lay on him.

You tried to sleep in the bit of space he hadn't taken, really, but it seemed he was basically drawn to you.

You caved, allowing whatever was going to happen to happen, too tired to fight it any longer.

When Shikamaru eventually woke up, you were on his chest, one arm thrown over him and peacefully sleeping.

He got flustered and quickly tried to get out from under you, waking you in the process.

He was able to dart away without much suspension. Or at least he thought.

The next night was the same, minus the internal battle you'd had prior.

When Shikamaru woke up to the same dilemma, he decided it was best to fall asleep after you.

That night, he'd stayed awake under the guise of a mission report update for the Hokage.

You'd simply shrugged and gone to bed.

He followed when he was sure you were asleep, making sure each of you were on your respective sides of the bed.

He was surprised when he woke up with him on top you, head on your chest as if it was the most casual thing to happen.

He'd begin to stammer about, but stopped when you'd groaned.

"Settle down, would you?"

"I was just-"

"It's not that big of a deal, Shika, just go to sleep."

He listened to you, despite not understanding what was actually going on.

In the morning, he attempted to talk to you about it, but the conversation didn't quite go as planned.

"Yeah, you're a cuddler. Not much I can do about it, so it's whatever."

From then on, it slowly became more natural for your nights to get more personal, even once you'd gotten home.

#sasuke uchiha x you #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke uchiha fluff #sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x you #hatake kakashi #kakashi fluff #kakashi hatake #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru x you #shikamaru nara #shikamaru #naruto x reader #naruto #naruto shippuden

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hiddenlongingsfanfic · 7 months ago

Text

Just His Luck (Lucky Boys 1)

The viscous liquid drip…drip..dripped off of the tip of a clawed finger.

Landing on the bricks below, it sounded incongruously like rainfall.

The acid green substance defied gravity with its tendrils creeping out and then into the porous surfaces of a badly maintained sewer system. His hands were covered in tight fitting gloves, still glowing white even amongst the filth. They lay lax, palms up, and fingers loosely curled to create a small divot in the center.

It took a long time, and it hurt this waiting.

Slowly, though, his patience began to bear fruit.

In his slightly cupped hand pooled the unnaturally rippling ectoplasm.

Danny laboriously, in fits and starts, managed to bring his hand to his chest and tipped the meager liquid directly into his organs. He whined softly with relief as he felt this new world’s ectoplasm nourish him. He didn’t know what would happen if he had a direct source to guzzle from, though. He couldn’t even really describe the difference that he felt. he just knew that it was present and almost alien.

Although Danny smiled slightly, he supposed at this point, he was the alien life-form.

He grimaced then at the feeling of the restrictive plastic that was still strapped to his face before he was forced back to stoicism when it cut painfully into his skin. It wouldn’t be pretty if he had to try and projectile vomit through the thin metal bars that pierced his skin. He finally heaved a deep breath and gingerly wrapped his arms around his torso, doing his best to avoid any sutures, before he pillowed his head on the sinuous length of his tail. Curled into as tight of a ball as his battered body would concede, Danny finally allowed himself to start crying. Tears streamed down his face, and if he had had the ability, he would have screamed.

Wailed.

At the loss of everything.

His jaw wouldn’t move, held in place by some sort of wire that wound its way through his gums and bones held in place by the plastic of the muzzle. Whatever Fenton invention they had used on it made it nearly impossible to remove. It refused to phase through walls with him and was strong enough that he couldn’t manage to snap the wire into pieces.

They had learned their lesson early on with him.

They hadn’t wanted to hear what he had to say anyway. Had only cared about what they could discover next. What they could find as they tore through him with methodical, scientific patience. He was a ghost. Long dead. Why would they waste the supplies on feeding him? They had tried something different.

Something…bad.

This shallow pool was a slow method of collection, but it also gave him time to recover his strength, and it didn’t hurt anyone else. He wasn’t being forced to harm anyone just to survive. He couldn’t remember when the portal had started to fall to pieces around him. Cobbled together as it had been, a mixture of human and animal blood used by his friends in a desperate attempt to free him from the laboratory that he had been imprisoned in.

Danny had appeared amongst the clouds and didn’t have the strength to stay afloat. Danny’s ghost half was supernaturally hardy, but even he needed time to recuperate after plummeting from that high in the air. He had tried to control his fall, but he had just been so tired. Normally, floating felt more natural to him when he was like this than walking. But his injuries even before he had escaped had left him weak. At least he had managed to avoid skewering himself on the steeple of a church. Had felt something close to horror at the thought of being killed (again? fully?) by the sharp points of a metal cross.

A sudden noise distracted him from his agonized sobs.

Danny growled low in his chest as he heard something splashing through the sewer water. Gross. That water couldn’t be sanitary. Seemed questionable to him. He wanted to disappear away from whatever was making that much of a ruckus. Sure, he could technically still turn himself invisible, but that wouldn’t hide the trail of ectoplasm that he had left in his wake. Better to make himself as scary as possible. At this point he’d probably have trouble fighting off the ghost of a fly, let alone whatever monster was roaming through near pitch black tunnels with apparent ease. He couldn’t bare his teeth anymore, but he let the sonic rumbling coming from his chest turn up a gear. There was another splash, and this time, it was followed by a curse. Someone had just fallen face first into that foul water.

Okay.

That helped the fear a little bit.

Danny let the growl ebb away with a quizzical chirp. He’d have to be even worse off than he currently was to not recognize that “ Mother Fucker!!” that echoed off the brick walls for a moment. The tinny sound of some sort of earpiece let him hear the faint sound of the feminine laughter of whoever was on the other line.

“Shut it, O. It’s your fault I’m down here anyways.”

The voice was raspy, but it also didn’t sound completely natural. Some sort of mechanical modulation that gave him the heebie-jeebies.

“ I told you. Cameras caught something falling out of the sky. I found the furrow that it left.”

In the goddamn cemetery.”

“ Yes, but you saw the same thing I did.”

“Yeah, something dragged itself away from the impact site.” “

Satellites saw whatever fell. They literally survived a fall from low atmosphere space and then had the strength to pull themselves into the sewers.”

The damned muzzle meant that there was no way for Danny to run away from whoever was looking for him. Every other piece of clothing went intangible with no issue; but the Fucking Fenton Wire™ made it literally impossible for him to get his face through anything. Forcing himself through would probably end with him missing a bunch of teeth and a good portion of skin from his face. It might be worth it; Danny had taken enough blows to the head that he knew his teeth grew back eventually. Maybe he’d get lucky and the man would give up after his impromptu dip in sewage.

Has he ever been lucky in his entire life?

The abrupt blast of light as the man held up a small penlight felt like it pierced him solidly through both of his eye sockets.

“Hmmm, I’m seeing some sort of liquid.”

“ Blood?”

“I mean the splatter marks. They match up to what I’d expect to see if someone managed to drag themselves through Gotham city water.”

“ But?” “

"But this shit is looking a hell of a lot more like Lazarus Water?”

There was a long buzzy pause that came out of whatever kind of earwigs these two weirdo’s were wearing. Danny forced himself to lay even flatter to the ground. He took in a deep breath and fully stuck himself into the corner. Maybe his ratty old hazmat suit would let him pass as a pile of dirty laundry or a trash bag. It wouldn’t work, but Danny hadn’t had too many great ideas about how to talk to a man without showing off his wired. shut. teeth. He also seemed familiar with ectoplasm. Though it didn’t seem to be a happy association. His modulated voice had dipped into an even lower register.

When a hand forcefully landed on Danny’s shoulders, the tips of his gloved fingers caught against the concrete of the floor and threw out sparks as he was dragged backwards by ungentle hands.

“ Wait! Hood, be care…!! ”

Danny had had more than enough of being manhandled in his lifetime (afterlife?) and he didn’t even let the woman on the other side of the microphone finish her warning before he whipped his body around and smacked his clawed fingers across the face of his unknown attacker. It wasn’t exactly like a hot knife through butter, but Danny could feel the way the tips first caught in the metal of the full face helmet that the man was wearing and a push of ice into those cracks shattered the rest of the man's headgear. In a normal situation (for Danny) this would be the point where the person, ghost, being of unimaginable power, etc, etc would either turn tail and run in the other direction or at least shrink away from whatever had just ripped apart what looked like it had been a very expensive piece of body armor. This time, though, he didn’t even have time to react before being punched straight in the nose.

His head snapped back hard for a moment before he twisted sinuously around and launched himself at whoever had hit him. Only for the much taller man to nimbly spring away from where he had been and leaving Danny crouched in the grotty water that was already up well past his shins. At least his feet had decided to reappear. Small favors and all that. Danny swung out in a wide arc with his claws bared rather than in a fist and let out a little growl of frustration as he hit nothing but air. The other man was quicker on his feet than Danny was used to and he didn’t want to put his full force behind the blow anyways.

He’d gotten into plenty of fights with ghosts, in their form of rough and tumble play, and a little less regularly by humans that meant business.

This felt like a combination of the two and that was fucking weird man.

Not to be trusted.

It's time to try and actually fight his way out of this situation since this asshole wouldn’t just leave him alone to sulk in the sewers.

Danny instinctively tried to open his mouth wide both to show off his sharpened fangs as well as to hopefully wail into his attacker's face. Of course, the wire cut that off hard, and he had to pull back with a sharp, frustrated whine as he pawed at his face for a moment. Scrabbling to get that stupid mask off so that he could defend himself. His claws caught on the edge of the plastic, but it didn’t budge. He only managed to snag a finger through a small loop of the metal before it shocked him hard enough to drop him completely in the water, the muzzle sparking and pulsing in punishment and making it impossible for him to keep on his feet. He could feel the way the water around him electrified and was relieved when the other man had the good sense to jump out of it.

This time when a hand came down to grab him the stranger had at least gone for a limb a little further away from whatever fuckery was happening on his face and he felt now much gentler hands wrap around his ankles. They gently dragged him up and out of the water, plopping him relatively softly on the cement again before relinquishing his hold and backing up with his hands in the air. Danny flopped onto his belly and pushed himself away as quickly as he could. He ended up on all fours with his forearms flat on the ground so that he could hold his head up away from the ground but not have to try and hold onto his teetering balance.

Electricity flashed through his face and left him seeing stars and smelling burnt flesh.

He was gasping for air.

Air he knew that he didn’t really need anymore, but it still felt so necessary.

Deep inhales and slow exhales to try and calm himself down and to get the equipment on his face to stop fucking zapping him. It took several long seconds before he was able to get the courage together to look over and see what the stranger was doing while he was having an electricity induced panic attack. He hadn’t heard the other man leave but that didn’t mean much when this sort of stuff happened. He couldn’t hear much of anything with the way it felt like electricity jolted through his brain. It brought back not only recent memories of this being used as a punishment but older, harder memories from his deathday. But no, the stranger hadn’t had the decency to leave. Instead he had just taken a seat across the stream of water from him and was watching him carefully from behind another smaller mask that still hid a good majority of his facial features.

Who wears two masks?

Seriously.

He could see the black hair with a shocking patch of white, turned a little brown gray from the muck of the sewer water.

The sight made his core hum inquisitively.

That was a very distinctive sort of mark to have. Danny cocked his head a little further and, this time, let himself reach out with tendrils of inquiry from his core to see how the other man reacted.

At first, he didn’t.

React that is.

Didn’t seem to have any sort of idea about what was happening, and then Danny felt the first flutters of a very, very new core as it responded with a stressed chatter of noise. It said don’t hurt me…I’m just a baby…Just a baby . Be calm. Safe. safe. Danny’s eyes blazed green as he reacted to the placating emotions the man was obviously sending his way unintentionally. Even after everything he had gone through, Danny didn’t want to be a bully. Sure his face, hell his entire body, fucking hurt, but he had all but face planted into the other ghosts territory. He hadn’t known where the portal had been going to take him. All he had been able to gather from the abrupt conversation that he had had with Jazz was that it was somewhere the GIW would never find him.

A dimension far far away, where he would be safe.

Alone.

But safe.

He had grabbed onto that with both hands and hadn’t let himself think about what he might be losing. So he had managed to get away from an evil government agency, lose his remaining friends and family permanently, only to land smack dab in the middle of some powerful baby ghosts haunt.

Just his fucking luck .

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jason wasn’t often at a complete loss for words.

He had words to spare.

Profanity laced, but still, available for use at all times.

When the call had come through from Oracle, he had felt cold dread start to creep down his spine. Some thing had landed in Crime Alley and walked away from the impact. It was late enough that he had been considering turning in for the evening. When he had heard the subtle ping of his earpiece. Jason had almost considered declining the call. Whatever it was that Oracle needed at this time of night wasn’t going to be good. Even the criminals went to bed eventually.

He clenched hard on his motorcycle's handles before he accepted the call with a gruff. “What is it?”

“ We’ve got something or someone that just landed hard in the Gotham cemetery.” “

Why aren’t you sure if it’s a person or an object?”

“ They fell from literal space. Some sort of portal ripped open the sky and dropped something through it. I’d say the only person that would be able to survive that kind of a fall would be Superman.”

“But it’s not him because?”

“ Because Superman is currently working a case with B, and he was the first person I called. Present and accounted for.” “

And you don’t think it’s a random object falling from a portal because?”

“ First. When has it ever just been a random object?”

“Hn.” Jason grunted in agreement.

“ Secondly, it’s not there anymore. Camera’s went a little fuzzy, but somebody pulled themselves out of the impact site and slid through a sewer grate.”

“Hn.” This was not a grunt of agreement. This was a grunt of displeasure. Oracle had worked with enough bats and birds throughout her lifetime to be able to tell the difference immediately. “

Yes. I literally mean through. It looked like liquid, but it moved under its own power.” “

Hn.”

“ Don’t whine. It’s not befitting a crime lord.”

Jason didn’t even bother to respond as he pulled in through the cracked open gates of the cemetery. Better to park his bike here rather than on the street. B would actually never let him hear the end of it if someone tried to steal his tires.

It didn’t take him long to find the impact site. There were spatters of sinister glowing green liquid, and the sight of it made Jason’s gorge rise. There was no way that was what it looked like. As he circled around the deep divot in the earth, Jason could make out what looked like handprints in the earth.

Whoever had landed here had hit the ground with enough force to dig several inches into the loamy soil before it looked like they had crawled out with clawed fingers digging deep divots into the dirt as it dragged itself towards the slim opening that led into the Gotham sewer system.

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m fitting through that opening.” Jason drawled. “We’ll have to call in one of the Robins. What a shame.”

“ Nice try. There’s a manhole less than 50 feet from where you’re standing.”

Jason let his face drop forward with a dramatic sigh before he strode over to the manhole. With a grunt of effort, he pulled the thick metal up and to the side before he peered down into the darkness. Thankfully, his mask helped him see through the pitch black, and he was able to locate a ladder without trouble.

He curled his lip a little with disgust before dropping down into the muck. The ladder was made out of a sturdy metal, but he could still feel flakes of rust coming off underneath his leather gloves, and his boots slipped a little on some sort of slimy algae. Jason could hear Oracle breathing quietly in his ear, but they had both gone quiet as he had gotten closer to whatever fresh horror had arrived in Gotham city this time. The water was as disgusting as he had feared when he finally hit the floor, but it was still less slippery than trying to walk on the slick sides that slanted inwards to direct the water. Hood’s mask would have had trouble distinguishing the dark stain of normal blood from the filth that coated the surfaces around him but the bright neon of whatever this creature was dripping stood out in stark contrast to everything around it.

It looked toxic.

Malevolent.

His impression of danger only deepened when he felt his chest rumble like he was standing next to a speaker thrumming with bass. He was so focused on following the small trailing drops that when Jason tripped over some sort of submerged trash he didn’t have the wherewithal to catch himself.

“Mother FUCKER!”.

Thankfully his mask was sealed tightly enough that none of the disgusting water actually got into his mouth or eyes but he knew that as soon as the mask was taken off he was going to be able to smell himself. Hell, regular civilians would be able to smell him coming before they heard his motorcycle. The thrumming noise came to an abrupt halt when he hit the water, and then Oracle's laughter rang out across the line. Jason had to grit his teeth hard to hold back an annoyed snarl.

“Shut it, O. It’s your fault I’m down here anyway.”

“ I told you. Cameras caught something falling out of the sky. I found the furrow that it left.”

“ In the goddamn cemetery.”

“ Yes, but you saw the same thing I did.”

“Yeah, something dragged itself away from the impact site.”

“Satellites saw whatever fell. They literally survived a fall from low atmosphere space and then had the strength to pull themselves into the sewers.”

“Hn, I’m seeing some sort of liquid.”

“ Blood?”

“I mean the splatter marks I'm seeing. They'd match up to what I’d expect to see if someone managed to drag themselves through Gotham city water.”

“ But?”

" But this shit is looking a hell of a lot more like Lazarus Water?”

Jason had been feeling more and more sketched out as he stepped past what felt more and more like he had stepped into an evil Jackson Pollock painting. He could see handprints in the smears of green that looked almost human. But there was something wrong with the edges. Like whatever had made them didn’t have just normal fingertips. Little indentations in the brick marked the spaces where claws had dug in a little too forcefully to be human.

When Hood finally turned a corner in the sewers and found the source of the Lazarus water he barely even paused when he saw the dirty frayed edges of some sort of black rubbery suit and just reached out to drag whatever the hell had been stupid enough to show up right on his fucking doorstep out of the darkness.

“ Wait! Hood, be care…!! ”

The clawed hand that whipped out of the darkness shone off-white even in the darkness of the sewers, but Hood didn’t have time to dodge before they caught hard in the alloy that covered his left cheek. He felt the fine cracks as they started to form before he was hit with a sudden icy cold that burned ferociously for a moment before he felt his helmet completely shatter. Jason could only see a vague shadow of whatever had just hit him, but it was more than enough, and he aimed a hard punch directly where somebody's nose should be.

If it had a nose.

He felt cartilage snap under his knuckles and smirked when his opponent's head snapped backwards. And continued backwards further than any human spine should be able to bend. It twisted sinuously around and sent another swiping blow in his direction. This time Jason had enough time to dodge the uncanny blow, and he leapt backwards to give himself some space. He heard a low growl of frustration from the man across from him, and Hood’s eyes widened as he caught sight of the other man's face for the first time. The clear plastic of the bite mask was deeply embedded in the skin around the stranger's face.

No.

Jason’s breath caught.

Not embedded.

Sewn.

The edges were sewn into his skin with what looked like a thin wire. Where the metal bars that would usually be in front of his lips had instead been wound through them. Sealing them completely shut. The young man’s eyes glowed the same neon green as the Lazarus water. Eerily similar to his own eyes when the Pit rage took over; but brighter, almost incandescent. His hair swirled in violent waves around his head as though taken by an unseen riptide, glowing white in the gloom. His skin was almost as pale as his hair; though the filth of the sewers had spread a disgusting film across his face. Jason could see the tear tracks that had sloughed off the dirt in ghostly pale streaks.

The rumbling growl that Jason had heard was coming from deep within the man’s slender chest. He could see the way the man’s jaw clenched hard as he strained to open his mouth against the tortuous contraption that was entrenched in his face.

He hoped, God did Jason hope, that the mask was a new fixture because whatever he had been trying to do, the young man jerked his head sideways and pawed ineffectually at the edges of the plastic. Clawed fingertips caught and held but weren’t able to pull the fucking muzzle off of his face. With a newly frustrated growl, the man changed tactics and looped a finger through the metal x’d through his lips and pulled. Jason couldn’t see where the electric shocks that started to spark across the mask came from. There didn’t seem to be any sort of electronics attached to the mask itself but wherever they had come from the shocks were enough to drop the man where he stood.

He was nearly covered by the sewage that he had fallen into, and Jason had years of training to thank for the fact that he managed to get out of the water before it became dangerously electrified. He scrambled up into the tunnel that the other person had emerged from while he tried to figure out how he was going to help this poor fucker without getting electrocuted for his troubles. After several long seconds Jason finally managed to reach out and snag the, hopefully rubber, tattered ends of the guys pants and dragged him up and out of the water with a grunting heave.

Jason curled himself away from the sparks that were still coming off of the guy.

Jesus.

Were the electronics in the man’s mouth?

It took several heaving breaths, nostrils flaring and chest racked with silent coughs, before the guy managed to get up on his knees and elbows. He rested his forehead on his fisted hands for several long seconds as they both tried to decide how best to handle the situation going forward. Green eyes slid over to him, and Jason felt a completely foreign crash of emotion sweep through him in a wave. The top notes of whatever this being was sending his way were aggressive!mean!GETAWAY! But underneath that was a wave of agonized terror that left him nearly breathless.

Jason held back a snarl of fear when he felt something shift in his chest and respond without his conscious permission. Something that felt a little bit like the Pit but a lot like when he was trying to sooth his siblings after a hard night. Safe…safe here. Jason slowly slid further down the wall and took a deep deep breath to try and calm himself down.

They both lay, covered in filth, as they tried to recover from the sudden cessation of violence and stared into each others eyes. “

So…uh Hood? You okay?”

Jesus, now he’d have to talk to Oracle about everything that had just happened in the space of several silent minutes.

No.

Worse.

He’d have to explain what happened to Da…Batman.

Jason let his head fall back against the dirty brick and groaned aloud.

Just his fucking luck .

#archive of our own #danny phantom #jason todd #batman #dpxdc #body horrow cw #canon typical violence #alternate universe #ooc

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hedwig221b · 8 months ago

Note

Do you by chance have BAMF Stiles recs? I'm reading your stories and all you rec so thank you for being awesome!!

Thank you so much! One wouldn't know by looking at my fics, but I absolutely adore BAMF!Stiles lol. He's a delight!

Daybreak by TheObsidianQuill

"There . . ." Stiles swallowed and looked down at the bottle in his grasp as he slowly swirled the amber liquid inside. "There's really nothing left. For me. Everyone is . . . gone, and it feels like I haven't thought of tomorrow in years." His words rang in the air like a gunshot, he took another heavy drink. "I would trade every last breath I take to just have another shot—not even a guarantee, just a chance to make things right and bring back even one of them." The pack was gone. He had nothing left. He had no one. With nothing to lose, Stiles puts everything on the line to go back in time to try to prevent the future from becoming his past. Broken, guarded, and haunted by his past, only one overgrown-pup of a wolf seems able to get past his defenses. Changing the future? Easy. Finding a place for himself in the Hale Pack? Impossible.

The Roads Not Followed by SylvieW

Scott decides to leave Beacon HIlls with Allison and her father. Stiles is left alone to deal with the supernatural troubles of his home town, so he turns to Derek. Years later, Scott’s new pack is threatened, and the only ones who can help them are the Hale pack and Derek’s powerful mate.

Not Your Disney Romance by Wrennefer

After a long-forgotten agreement of an arranged marriage between Derek and the daughter of another pack's alpha resurfaces, Stiles takes it upon himself to become the most amazing fake fiancé that a clueless, desperate alpha werewolf could wish for.

This is Ridiculous by zosofi

There's a unicorn in Beacon Hills. A fricken' unicorn. In fricken' Beacon Hills, California. And it turns out that unicorns aren't drawn towards virgins in a happy-go-lucky let-me-lay-my-not-at-all-metaphorical-horn-in-your-lap way. No. They kill them. And guess who's the only virgin idiotic enough to get sucked into the Beacon Hills supernatural scene? Stiles, that's who.

A Tangled Refuge by wanderingeyre

The Hale House has been rebuilt for the past five years and for all five of those years, it’s been a sanctuary for supernaturals that needed a place to stay, a halfway point, a place to recuperate, or a place to be safe from whatever was on their tail. Word traveled quickly in the small world of the supernatural and now they rarely had to seek out people who needed help. Most came to them.

What Fresh Twilight Bullshit Is This? by isthatbloodonhisshirt

“I am not Bella!” he insisted, shaking his fist angrily at Jackson, as if he’d been the one to suggest he was. “I am not Bella! I am, like, a Jacob, at least!” Lydia made a noise of debate from his right and he whipped around to look at her. “What?! What was that sound?!” “You’re more of a Mike,” she insisted, shrugging neatly and flipping some curls over her shoulder. “Wha—” Stiles had never been so offended in his life! “I am not! No way! I am a solid Jacob!” “Mike,” she argued. “Who’s Mike?” Scott asked. “Shut up, Scott!” Stiles insisted, pointing a finger at him but still glaring at Lydia.

Came For The Spark, Stayed For The Flame

Derek felt the panic build up in his chest as Jezebel held out a hand. He smelled it before he saw it, because who could forget the scent of what destroyed your life? Fire and spark and smoke curled from Jezebel's hands, and the wood stacked at Stiles' feet flared up. When Stiles and Derek get bonded as Emissary-and-Alpha, hidden attractions become a lot harder to hide, secrets are kept and secrets are surfaced, and an evil teenage girl is planning even more ritualistic sacrifice. Canon divergence from the end of 3a.

Dangerous by jjmash

There are a lot of things that the pack doesn’t know about Stiles. Some of it is little things he simply has no reason to mention, like how he almost failed organic chemistry his first semester at Stanford. Some of it is bigger stuff that he just can’t bring himself to think about, like the nightmares that still plague most of his nights and trap him inside his own mind in increasingly horrific ways. But most importantly, the pack doesn’t know all the ways in which Stiles has transformed during his time away from them. He doesn’t need fangs and claws to be dangerous.

The Person You'd Take a Bullet For (is Behind The Trigger) by SadieHerondale

The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but until he gets Derek back, Stiles' actions are going to be worse than bad. And he will get Derek back, come hell or high water.

Something More Than Human by gatergirl79

Stiles Stilinski has a secret, a huge secret. A secret that will change the way everyone sees him. No, he hasn't been bitten by a werewolf. Stiles Stilinski is the product of a government experiment to create the perfect soldier, a human weapon. As a second generation transgenic, Stiles has been living a normal life with his dad in Beacon Hills, playing the role of klutzy sidekick to his werewolf best friend. All that changes however when Derek saves his life, Stiles finds himself slowly embracing who he really is. - But at what cost?

Red Witch by rootbeer

The red hair of a banshee. The red eyes of an alpha. The red hoodie of a mage. The red of fire burning. Derek Hale has been a prisoner to the hunters since they burned his family alive. But now someone has come to save him: skinny, defenseless Stiles--147 lbs of skin and fragile bones. Turns out, sarcasm isn't his only weapon.

Oh my (let me look at those eyes) by Gorgeousgreymatter

A few months ago, he might’ve been able to solve this with some force—a little man-handling, a snarl, a glimpse of teeth. But he looks at Stiles’s broken face, knows he’s seen too much horror and blood and evil, the whole Big Bad Wolf routine is just going to fall flat. Because Derek looks at Stiles and he doesn’t carry himself like a teenager anymore. He carries himself like a soldier.

Now with part 2!

[masterpost link]

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles x derek #eternal sterek #sterek fanfic #stiles stilinski #derek hale #derek x stiles #sterek fanfiction #sterek fic rec #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic rec #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf sterek #hedwig221b replies #anon asks

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chiscaralight · 7 months ago

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"8 months?!"

synopsis: weeks of stress call for a friday night of lazing on the couch and drinking with your roommate!toji. you may or may not have accidentally let something slip, and toji takes it into his hands to fix it. not without making sure you're up to the challenge first.

includes: nsfw! toji x fem!reader, drunk sex, they're drinking throughout, alcohol play, all consensual, reader gets referred to as doll/dollface, girl among other things, slight choking, low-key face fucking, p in v, oral both receiving. i love toji, miss u stink w.c: 3.4k

It's been almost two months since you’ve had time for yourself. School, work, and friends have been plaguing you with duty after duty for the longest and it’s all been weighing on you heavily. Now that the midterms are over, you’ve decided to take the next two days off of work and have a long weekend. Five days of doing absolutely nothing and just recuperating from all the stress of the world.

But actually doing absolutely nothing is far from your agenda. You’re shutting your shared apartment door with your hips because your hands are full of bags. Bags of bottles.

No, you don’t have a drinking problem. But everyone needs a good drink once in a while. And what better way to unwind than straight hard liquor and shitty tv shows? Straight hard liquor and shitty tv shows with your roommate, Toji!

You haven’t asked him yet, but you sent a quick text asking if he’d binge a show with you. You make sure to include the fact that there might be some drinking involved, and by the time you’re back from changing, he’s patiently manspreading on the couch, bottle in hand as he smirks at you. You shake your head and make your way over, picking some random sitcom to cheese over while you drink.

It’s not long before you start to get woozy, and you’re much more relaxed and chatty. He’ll never admit it but he’s pleased to see you like this. You haven’t been sharing this apartment with him for so long, so you’re still somewhat reserved. It’s fine though, because it makes the way you talk to him now much more enticing.

You’re even forgoing the show you put on to just drone on and on. His whole demeanor changes when you say something about last getting nasty in February.

“February…girl, it’s October—you haven’t gotten laid in eight months?”

You groan and slap your hands over your face.

You scowl at the thought of that dreadful night. You weren’t some kind of sex god yourself, but you’re pretty sure no one should feel as bad as you did that day. The whole thing was dry, fast, and painfully unsexy. You’re snatching the bottle out of your roommate's hand and raising it to your lip to wash away the memories of pain.

Toji is absolutely dumbfounded at your words. He’d be damned if he could go two weeks without getting his dick sucked, what do you mean eight fucking months??

“must’ve been some weak ass dick to get you out the game for almost a year. fuckin insane.”

toji's eyes rake over your exposed thighs and the buzz from the alcohol is starting to get a bit stronger in his mind.

"y'know, maybe I could help ya with that."

Once the words register in your hazy mind, you're choking on the remaining liquid that covers your tongue. toji's large hand swats rather gently at your back as he grumbles.

"Easy now, didn't mean to startle you. s'just a suggestion anyway."

He leans back and shuts his eyes, letting the swirling feeling take over his body rather than the thought of you. Having to hide the fact he's been eyeing you for the longest time has been hard enough, he doesn't need the air getting too awkward because he couldn't shut his drunk ass up.

"what if... I do want it?"

You’re trying to catch the words before they come out, but your reaction time has been stupidly slowed by the intoxication. You’re inwardly cursing at yourself, turning your head the other way to avoid his eyes.

toji is cracking an eye open to look at your expression, but you're avoiding his face. You gasp as he grips your chin to force your gaze into his own.

"you sure about that, dollface?"

Maybe there is a little doubt somewhere in your mind, but it's not like you haven't thought about fucking toji before. And with the alcohol jumbling the last three thoughts you've managed to hold onto for the last hour, you give him a shaky nod.

Toji smirks before licking the trail of alcohol that had dribbled from your lips prior. His tongue is wet and warm as it drags over the corner of your mouth. He's so close to your face like this and you're parting your lips instinctively. He takes it as a sign to place his mouth on yours. Your lips are just as soft as you, but they're way softer than he imagined. His hand moves towards your neck to grip and pull you closer to him. The quick action has you yelping, and he's shoving his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss is rough, sloppy, and full of teeth. It's so primal, so messy, so toji. You're getting giddy-brained from how that scar is grazing your lip and the strong taste of alcohol isn't helping your situation.

Your body is twisted weirdly to accommodate his position, but something in the back of your mind is telling you to move. You’re fighting a losing battle trying to overpower it, because soon enough you're climbing into his lap to get as close as possible.

This is something he generously welcomes. Placing his hands on your hips, he's guiding your clothed cunt over his hardening cock. His lips trail down the side of your face to the skin of your neck. The harsh bite he gives your neck has you yelping out, and it comes out broken.

His rough fingers are moving up your sides, under the flimsy material of your tank top, and you are getting impatient. It’s almost like he’s doing it on purpose to piss you off, but you’re not angry—more desperate than anything. You’re pushing hard against him, whining—begging for him to help you out. It’s been so long, and toji is doing such a good job at riling you up, you’re sure you’ll explode if this goes on any longer.

“Ah ah, not so fast. Before I fuck this cunt, Y’gotta prove you deserve it. Show me how badly you want it.”

He’s softly shoving you off him, but his face is still so close to yours.

“Y’er mouth, doll. Use that mouth of yours.”

Knees planted firmly into the carpet below you, you’re a little scared. Toji’s cock is out before you; long, angry, and leaking. You always assumed he’d be big, but seeing it up close like this was a whole different story.

“If y’keep starin’ like that, nothing’s gonna get done, princess.”

you suck in a breath before covering the tip of his cock with your lips. His precum is salty-sweet, but you savor the taste nonetheless as it mixes with your saliva and spreads all around his tip. Toji groans at the sensation, throwing his head back.

With a few bobs of your head, you’ve managed to take most of his length without an issue. But he’s still so big, and he’s entirely keen on having himself fully sheathed in your mouth. You whimper when his heavy hand comes in contact with the back of your head.

“c’mon doll, know you can take it all—fuck yeah, jus’ like that.”

The tears welling in your eyes are threatening to spill over when your nose presses against the base of his cock. Your eyes are pressed shut, and you’re barely able to swallow around his cock. When you’re finally able to open them, you catch Toji’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows another mouthful of alcohol. His eyes meet yours in a lustful gaze, and you’re finally comfortable enough to move.

Whether it’s the recent shot he took, or you’re just insanely good, the dark-haired man is losing his fucking mind. The heat from your mouth coupled with the vibrations from noises you’re making around him is sending him to another plane. His entire body feels like static, and he's getting so lost in the pleasure he's completely unaware when he starts to guide your lips up and down his length.

Your nails are digging into the exposed muscles of his thighs as he humps up to meet your head coming down, and you can't hold back the tears anymore. You're taking everything he's giving you so well, not a single complaint from the moment he started to fuck your face until he finishes staining the back of your throat with his thick cum.

He rides every single drop out into your mouth, making sure his balls are completely empty before letting you pull off. Your face is tear-stricken, and you're huffing to catch your breath, but you're far from done.

“fucker really lost a gem, huh. Alright—your turn, get up here n’lay down.”

With your back pressed to the arm of the couch, toji is staring at you from

above. Usually, you’d be self-conscious, being fully naked and all, but it looks like the gears in his head are turning, and they’re turning hard. he takes another second before pausing, reaching over behind you to grab at your almost empty bottle.

It’s quick, and soon enough the room-temperature liquid is trickling down your body. The lips of the bottle are pressed just above your tits, starting to dribble down between them and the trail is messy and diverging. You can feel the drops splitting off and falling onto the cushions below you, but you’re much too enticed by the concentration on his face.

You shiver when you feel the drink starting to pool in your belly button, and he decides it’s enough. He places the bottle down on the ground beside him before connecting his mouth with the beginning of his newly made trail.

Even in the cool air of the living room, your body is insanely hot. His lips are working stupidly slow, warm tongue flicking over every droplet he could catch. It should be weird, but the way his brows are furrowed in deep concentration is making the heat brewing in your belly pick up. He’s taking his time, bending and weaving his neck as he makes his way down, down and down.

Toji’s rough tongue swirls deep in your belly button, and you can’t help the way your stomach churns. It’s doing weird things to you, the way he’s drinking out of the shallow dip. he only stops when he’s satisfied with how much he was able to get out. His hot trail of biting, sucking, and kisses doesn’t stop until his lips are stationed right above your clit.

In terms of patience, toji doesn’t have a lot of it. He thinks he’s done an almost perfect job of taking his time with you, making sure you’re as wanting as possible. But your scent is assaulting his mind, and the bits of intoxication he’s picked up from drinking off your body alone are starting to fuck with him just a bit.

So he mumbles something under his breath before pushing your thighs up and diving in. It’s almost all too quick the way his mouth closes around your swollen clit. Your body is raising from the chair, but toji is keeping you so strongly grounded against his face as he sucks hard. Your hands are trying to find something—anything to keep you from absolutely losing it, and your shaky fingers settle on his head.

Your nails are digging deep into his scalp, fisting at his dark locks that are now damp with sweat. You’re pulling him closer and closer into your heat, and your vision starts to go white once he invites a thick finger in.

It’s not normal how good this feels. Even though your last fuck was so ass, all the good ones combined couldn’t even compare to what you’re feeling now. Your mouth is leaking words your brain can’t register, and Toji’s scar grazing the puffy skin of your pussy is not helping.

His large hand still has your leg up in the air just high enough, and he’s giving you the benefit of the doubt that if he lets it go you won’t disappoint. He can feel the way your foot starts to rest on his back once he releases.

But it’s almost immediately that his tongue is switching out with his finger and your thighs are closing in quick on his head. He circles an arm around, thumb roughly pressing against your sensitive nub as he fucks you with his tongue. The wet muscle is twisting and turning inside you, brushing all around against the best spots that have you choking and crying out praises of his name.

In tandem with his finger, his nose is still bumping harshly bumping your clit and that’s what sends you almost toppling over the edge. Your eyes roll back and as you look up you can’t even see the roof, just waves and waves of hot pleasure spreading over your brain like the way your release is spreading all over his tongue.

toji is lapping up your essence like a dog, sucking and drinking it all in as he ‘cleans’ you up. He nods in satisfaction, and he raises himself to give him space to pull his shirt off.

“want another shot before I fuck the shit outta ya?”

So vulgar. But you nod regardless. Reaching back down, Toji grabs the almost empty bottle and fills his mouth with the rest. His hand grips your cheeks until your lips are slightly parted, then he places his on yours. You can feel the punishing liquid flow into your mouth. Once he’s sure his mouth is empty, he pulls back and waits for you to swallow. Then he shakes.

He’s shaking your head with such a force that would definitely leave you dazzled sober, but your head is absolutely rolling mixed with the alcohol. You whine from the way your vision blurs and you can hear him laugh.

“Don’t be like that, it’ll make it much nicer. C’mon, flip over, lemme show you.”

Your fingers are holding onto the arm of the chair as he bullies the tip of his cock into your entrance. He’s hissing at the way you’re swallowing him up with that cunt of yours, and you’re just trying not to let your brain get too far from your head.

Whatever amount of alcohol he gave was definitely more than a shot, and the way he shook you right after was definitely too much because you can barely register anything else than the stretch of his cock and the way the room is wobbling.

He’s barely halfway in when it really starts to hit you. Your lips are curling into a wry smile as the base of his cock is pressed flat against your ass, and you’re almost completely sure you’re in heaven. Your mouth is open but nothing is coming out, and it’s a smack! on the ass from his heavy hand that’s drawing you back in with a moan. All it takes is you looking back at him with those adorable eyes of yours to turn him right on, and he’s starting to fuck you with a speed that’s causing your brain to lag.

Toji is a big guy(in all aspects) with a lot of energy. And all that energy is going into ruining your cunt at this very moment. His hands are tight against your hips as his come flush with yours over and over, balls smacking against you. Your eyes are shut and you’re practically wailing from the pleasure overload. He’s grunting hard above you, voice deep and gruff all while keeping you in place to take every thrust.

“Move those hips, girl. Fuck—yes. Keep movin’ like that.”

You’re trying your best to keep up with his pace as best as you can; which to be honest isn’t that good. The speed he’s moving is inhumane, but he’s rewarding your efforts by angling his own hips up to help his tip push perfectly against that certain spot deep in you.

Your words have lost all coherence, and you’re just a crying mess of pleas. He’s planted one foot on the ground for leverage, knocking something over that’ll be a pain to clean later, but he doesn’t care. Right now he’s completely focused on you and the stupidly sweet noises you’re making that he’s not sure when he sends a thrust that has you almost toppling off the couch.

Even with the way his mind is all over the place, he’s still quick to pull you back before you get too far. Your breathing is all over the place, your face a fucked mess, but you’re still functioning enough to mutter out a weak-

“p-please don’t stop!”

And who is he to deny you in this moment, hm? But he’s not big on the idea of risking that dumb little head of yours, so he moves his hold to your elbows. He’s holding your entire front weight up without a problem, and picking up his pace again without much of an issue.

And you’re completely crumbling under his hold when he starts to pound into you once again. He's hitting too deep, too hard, too quickly and it's all too much for you. That familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach is spreading all through your body; flowing through your entire being like the blood in your veins.

"t-toji, m'cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck-"

And your entire body is flashing white hot as you cum, trembling under his hold. Your voice is a shrill hoarse cry as his hips slow; grinding against your ass to fuck you to your orgasm's end.

You're losing all energy, barely able to even keep your head up, but Toji is far from done with you.

"You tired?"

But you're quick to shake your head no. It's been months, almost a year since you've gotten even a fraction of what this is. You're not about to pass it up for anything. he mumbles a sultry 'atta girl' before pulling you towards him. Your back is hitting the soaked seat of the couch as he kneels above you. His grip is finding your knees and bringing them down towards your chest, before filling you up with his still-hard length.

"Shit, that fucker lost a treasure. Basically won the damn lottery here."

His words are going straight to your cunt, and your hole is fluttering around him, almost locking him in place as you writhe from the overstimulation.

Toji is pushing a lone finger past your swollen lips, and it's almost instinct the way your tongue flits over it. You're sucking moaning around it, and the way your face contorts as he continues to move in and out of you is making his cock twitch inside you. Each twitch and pulse of the thick vein lining the underside of his cock have you jumping at each slight movement.

But he's nothing but a man, and the weight in his balls is becoming too much to bear. He has no intentions of cumming anywhere that's not inside you, so he dips his head as close to your face as possible.

"Gotta fill this cunt up. Y'er gonna take it all, yeah?"

You're gurgling something unintelligible around his digit, but the way you look up at him is all the confirmation he needs.

hes releasing from your mouth, pushing the wet finger against your clit as your back arches off the chair. He can feel you pulsing around him, and it's a sob full of his name that has him groaning, pressing his forehead flush with yours as he pumps you full of his cum. Each spurt is thicker than the last, and by the time he's done you feel completely full, still plugged up with his softening cock.

When he does eventually pull out, you can barely lift a finger. Your entire body is flushed and sticky, and the reality of what just happened is starting to hit you hard. Toji is getting up and scooping you into his arms to take you to the bathroom.

"Y'er paying to get that shit cleaned, by the way."

"You're the one who got alcohol all over it?"

"Yeah, but it's your cum that's soakin' into those cushions right now, doll."

Toji snickers when he hears you call him an asshole under your breath. He won't be as much of an asshole if he bends you over the bathroom vanity though, right?

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x you #jjk men #anime smut #fushiguro toji #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk

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teshadraws · 2 months ago

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Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 70]

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AO3 Link

Nia, Tobias, Samir and Junie meet a few new faces--and one old acquaintance--in the village atop the mountains, and focus on recuperating before their search for Yveltal continues.

Nia feels dizzy with relief as they’re taken to the village. She tightens her arms around the neck of the lucario who’s carrying her, grateful that they’re doing most of the work of holding her and Junie up.

Junie is quiet where she’s nestled in the crook of Nia’s neck, surely just as exhausted as the rest of them, so Nia closes her eyes as the moonlit snow of the mountainside rushes by at an incredible speed, wind whistling against her ears with each impressive leap through the air. The lucario are beyond agile.

Lucario—Nia’s evolved form. She’s sure she’ll have a million questions for them once she doesn’t feel like a lump of a person anymore.

Could Nia make leaps like this one day, if she stayed in this world long enough to evolve? She’s pretty sure she could already manage the snowshoe technique they’re using with a little practice, and she’s weirdly proud that she thought of something similar during the avalanche, spiking her aura through her snowshoes to cling to the ice like cleats.

The lucario leap and bound silently, though, gracefully navigating the mountainside in a way that Nia knows she would struggle with. They move as a seamless group, like a school of fish, and Nia wonders if they’re using aura to communicate rather than words, or if they’re just that well-trained. She could probably use her own aura to find out, but she can tell her energy is low after holding back the avalanche.

Plus, some part of her suspects that would be rude. Like eavesdropping.

So Nia stays quiet and keeps her aura to herself, despite the way she can feel other auras brushing by hers on occasion, gone too fast for her to decipher what they’re feeling.

Time passes in a surreal blur, both endless and instant. Finally, Nia notices the lucario beneath her slowing down, and she lifts her head to see that they’re cresting a snowy ridge, light glowing from beyond its lip. And when they reach the top, Nia can see its source.

The village. It’s tucked away inside the shallow bowl of a valley, the slopes surrounding it too gentle for an avalanche to form. The buildings themselves are made from stone and wood, low to the ground with steeply pointed, snow-covered roofs. Thick ice crawls up the foundations of the buildings and hang as icicles from the edges of their roofs like delicate adornments, glistening with firelight from the torches outside nearly every home. Through the cracks in windows and doors, Nia can see more firelight beckoning with its golden glow.

Nia doesn’t think she’s ever seen a more inviting sight in her life. She’s so ready to be warm.

The lucario who rescued them cluster together as they enter the village proper, the leader striding forward with purpose and a destination clearly in mind.

Since night has already fallen, it seems like most of the villagers are already tucked away inside their homes, but there are still a couple of Pokemon out and about, nearly all of them species Nia hasn’t seen before. Ice types, most likely.

There’s a giant polar bear with icicles growing on his face like a beard, a basket full of some kind of vegetable or root sitting on his hip. A tiny blue and white bear cub with a dripping nose toddles after him.

A large white yeti Pokemon with an afro-like snowball atop his head pushes a sleigh of crates across the snow with his powerful arms. He passes by them with a quiet word of greeting to the lucario and a wary glance at Nia and the others.

A pale blue dinosaur Pokemon with a build similar to Maggie and a lovely sunset-toned frill atop her head watches them curiously from her house’s window.

Nia can’t manage more than a tired smile when she meets each of their gazes, but they don’t seem all that excited to see strangers. Fidel did say they’d be seen as outsiders, so it makes sense that they wouldn’t have a warm reception, even if some part of Nia can’t help feeling a bit hurt when they don’t return her friendliness. She tries not to take it personally.

“The Matriarch will want to speak with you right away,” the lead lucario says, catching Nia’s attention. It’s clear from how he says it that it’s an order, and not an offer.

“What about Fidel and Samir?” Nia asks, looking back at the zoroark’s limp form being carried between two of the lucario. “They’re both hurt.”

The lead lucario glances over his shoulder at Fidel, then looks forward again. Wordlessly, the two lucario carrying Fidel peel off to take the zoroark elsewhere.

“Hey!” Tobias barks. “Where are they—"

“The healer. Is your injury urgent, Skiddo?”

Nia glances back again to see Samir shake their head no, which Nia knows better than to fight against even if they really should get their leg looked at sooner rather than later.

Nia wishes they could rest before having to explain everything, but the lucario ahead of them is all business and strides through the small village at a quick pace, his tall ears pricked. She doesn’t think he’d agree to dropping them off somewhere for food and sleep before accomplishing what he has set out to do.

Luckily, it’s only a couple of minutes before Nia sees their destination. It’s a building larger than the others, and the ice at its base is much taller than the other clusters in the village, surrounding the structure like a fancy crystalline frame. A small set of stairs leads up to thick wooden doors, and the lead lucario opens them without hesitation, the others following him inside.

The lead lucario guides them down a surprisingly ornate front hall decorated with rugs on the floor, tapestries along the walls, and shelves and side tables displaying beautiful stones and gems. It’s dim, the wooden interior warm but not well-lit, and Nia barely has a chance to look around before they’re reaching the end of the hall and turning to enter a smaller room.

The new space is surprisingly cozy, almost like a den. It’s dim, lit by the flicker of a fireplace, but it’s just as well decorated as the front hall. Tapestries cover the walls in geometric patterns and abstract depictions of Pokemon, mountains, and plants. More stones and gems sit atop shelves and bookcases, glinting in the firelight. And in front of the fireplace, sitting atop a plush rug, are two tall chairs.

The lead lucario guides their group around the chairs, the pack gently setting them down onto their own shaky feet. Nia shudders as the heat of the fire hits her back; the warmth is both incredibly welcome and somehow too hot after being exposed to the frigid air outside. She watches over Samir’s head as most of the lucario exit the room, save for the leader who guided them here.

A new Pokemon catches Nia’s attention next, sitting in front of them in one of the high-backed chairs. She’s sipping from a stone mug with her eyes closed, but Nia’s gut swoops with surprise and lingering guilt as she realizes the Pokemon looks like Ezra. She has a similar shade of sleek, dark blue fur and a gleam of gold at her forehead. And around her mug, the impressive claws of Ezra’s evolutionary line are curled. The only differences are that she’s larger than Nia’s friend, and her striking red ears are held much lower beneath a tall, proud crown of feathers. Maybe she’s the sneasel line’s evolution?

The second thing Nia notices are the barely visible streaks of gray around her face, marking her age. A thin, patterned shawl also rests around her shoulders. She must be on the older side, but there’s something about the confident, leisurely way she holds herself that makes Nia feel like she’s still a force to be reckoned with.

“Matriarch,” the lead lucario says, bowing respectfully.

Nia hurries to bow as well, clamping a hand over Junie when the bird nearly falls off her shoulder.

“Soren,” the Matriarch says in return, voice wry. She opens sharp, cat-like eyes to look over Nia and the others. “So you’re the mites that set off the avalanche? You and that zoroark.”

The lucario, Soren, answers for them with a nod. He must’ve used his aura to let her know that ahead of time.

“Interesting that there’s a riolu among you,” the Matriarch comments, looking at Nia with idle curiosity. “It’s rare for riolu to separate from the packs, isn’t it?”

Nia exchanges an uncertain look with Tobias and Samir. What does she say to that?

“She’s human,” Soren answers, his tone unreadable.

Nia’s head whips over to stare at him. Soren stares back with piercing blue eyes.

There’s no way he should know that, so…he must’ve picked that up from her aura, even if Nia’s never noticed much of a difference between a Pokemon’s aura and a human’s aura. But she knows he’s been paying careful attention to hers ever since they met. Even now, she can feel his energy—a deep, almost royal blue color—brushing near hers, not quite looking at her feelings or thoughts but almost…encircling her. Guarding her aura and preparing to counter if she uses it in some way.

She doesn’t like the claustrophobic feeling.

Nia swallows down a note of fear. Okay, so they know she’s human. They still rescued them and brought them to the village, so even if Soren’s guarded stare isn’t her favorite thing in the world, they aren’t immediately freaking out about her humanity.

The Matriarch sips at her drink, watching. Waiting.

“I-I am human,” Nia admits. “My name is Nia. These are my friends—my teammates. Tobias, Samir, and Junie.” She gestures to each of them in turn. “The zoroark is our friend Fidel.”

The Matriarch glances at Soren, then back to them. “You four seem relatively unscathed for how injured the zoroark is.”

Nia winces, fresh guilt clogging her throat. “I used my aura to protect us, but Fidel was scouting ahead. I…I couldn’t reach him in time.”

The aura surrounding Nia’s tightens for a moment. Nia feels a flicker of Soren’s emotions.

Suspicion. Unease.

Just as quickly as they arrived, the emotions distance themselves.

“You held back the avalanche by yourself?” The Matriarch asks, tone neutral.

Nia nods.

Soren continues to stare at Nia, frowning. “You also knew that we were approaching you on the mountainside. And what our intentions were.”

Nia frowns back at him. Should…she not have been able to do that? “Yes..? I felt your aura searching for ours. That you were looking for survivors to bring back to the village.”

The lucario doesn’t respond, though the furrow in his brow deepens slightly.

“I suppose the next question is why you were trying to climb the mountain in the first place,” the Matriarch says, finishing her drink and setting it onto the side table with a quiet clunk of stone on wood. “Not many venture this way, and for good reason. You would’ve been dead by morning without the pack’s goodwill.”

Nia swallows, nodding. “W-We know.” She glances at Soren. “Thank you again.”

Soren doesn’t respond.

Beside her, Tobias steps forward. “We were sent here on a mission by Augustus, the Lexym guildmaster.”

The Matriarch straightens in her seat, clearly recognizing the name of the rillaboom.

“We’re looking into the world’s instability and suspect we might know the cause of it,” Tobias continues. “And we’re trying to figure out how to fix it before it’s too late.”

The Matriarch hums. “Is that so? A noble aim. And what could the mountain offer you in such an endeavor?”

Tobias glances at Nia and Samir. Nia nods.

“We want to explore the mountains to see if we can find evidence of Yveltal sleeping nearby.”

Though the Matriarch and lucario don’t visibly react, something in the air—in their aura—grows heavy. Cautious.

“We’re actually trying to find Xerneas,” Nia clarifies, a little frantic. “But we thought since they usually sleep so close to each other, we could narrow down the search if we could confirm Yveltal’s resting place first.”

“Yveltal’s location has been lost to time,” the Matriarch says. The light of the fire flickers across her face, giving her an eerie look. “What leads your search here?”

“The barren landscape, for one,” Tobias says.

“A-And the crystals,” Nia adds. Soren and the Matriarch lock their gazes onto her. “We ran into a researcher on a mission a couple weeks back, and he said he was coming here to investigate some strange crystal formations. Carnelian the sableye?”

The Matriarch sits back, her eyes narrowing. Quietly, almost too low to hear, she says something to Soren. For a moment, Nia thinks she’s just too tired to understand the jumble of words, until Soren answers back with something equally incomprehensible.

Oh. That’s…a different language. It’s a consonant-heavy tongue, and some of the sounds are entirely unfamiliar to Nia, throaty as they are. Nia thought that whatever allowed her to understand and speak Ordirune—the most common language in this world—just translated all languages, but apparently not. Nia glances at Junie, still perched on her shoulder, but the rookidee looks just as lost as Nia feels. Tobias and Samir seem equally out of the loop, their shoulders tense and brows furrowed.

Huh. She’d put the whole language translation thing on the backburner, but this makes her curious again. If there are multiple languages in this world, then doesn’t that mean Nia should still be able to speak plain English? Or…will her tongue always twist it into Ordirune?

She hopes not. Something about losing her native language entirely makes her feel…sad.

Finally, the Matriarch turns back to them. “If Augustus sent you, then he surely sent a letter to vouch for you, yes?”

“He did,” Tobias confirms, grimacing. “But we lost our pack in the avalanche. Our items were wiped.”

The Matriarch sighs, rubbing at her forehead with her knuckles. “Of course. In that case, I will need to have Soren check your aura.”

Tobias and Samir both lean away, visibly uncomfortable.

“Why?” Junie asks, suspicious.

“To verify that you’re honest about your intentions,” the Matriarch explains. “If we have any knowledge regarding Yveltal, I will not risk that kind of power falling into the wrong hands.”

Nia supposes that makes sense, but…

She glances again at Tobias and Samir and their tense postures. They clearly hate the idea of a stranger they don’t trust reading their aura.

“Could you just check mine?” Nia asks, taking a step closer to Soren. “Tobias and Samir are private people.”

“You can check mine too!” Junie chirps.

Tobias starts to protest behind them, but apparently thinks better of it as he falls silent.

“Will that work?” Nia asks.

Soren seems unhappy with the compromise, but maybe that’s just how his face always looks because he only hesitates for a moment before nodding. Then, he closes his eyes and holds out a paw in front of Nia and Junie.

And then, all at once, the aura that had been skimming around Nia's engulfs her. It's heavy, and it doesn’t hesitate before carding through her aura with purpose, digging between her ribs and pulling at her soul like taffy as it searches for something in particular.

It feels so…intrusive. Nia desperately hopes this isn’t what it’s like when she reads someone’s aura. She always tries to be gentle when she does it, turning their soul over in her hands like a delicate turtleshell to read the patterns and scars on its surface.

Soren’s aura feels like a pat down, like someone physically digging their fingers through her brain, clinically pulling away her thoughts layer by layer without care. It doesn’t hurt, per se, but it does feel deeply uncomfortable.

“Stop!”

Soren homes in on a particular chain of emotions, pulling at them to read the train of thought attached. A moment later, she realizes it’s about their mission. She glimpses the vague storm of feelings attached to the memories: the desperation, hope, and fear of learning about this world’s destruction and all that would come with it. And following that, their desperate plan to fix it and Nia’s burning desire to succeed. Her hope to save everyone in this world and her own.

“I said stop!”

Tobias?

Suddenly, blessedly, Soren’s aura retreats. It feels like fighting her way out of twisted, too-hot blankets. Like a gasp of fresh, cool air.

Nia’s legs nearly give out as she comes back to herself. Tobias’ arm is looped around her back as a steadying heat, though, and Samir is pressed close on her other side, the two of them the only things keeping her from collapsing into a heap of shaky limbs. Junie trembles against Nia’s neck.

“What were you doing to them?” Tobias snarls. “I’ve seen Nia do that with a hundred ‘mon and they’ve never looked like that!”

Soren’s blue eyes focus on Nia, narrowing. “You have read others’ aura?”

Nia nods, rubbing her hands over her arms and giving herself a shake.

“She’s done it with me and it never felt like that,” Junie snaps, making them all look at her. She’s glaring up at Soren despite the way she shakes. “Dude, I-I don’t even understand what you just did, but even I can tell it was super rude!”

The Matriarch snorts. “Soren, it seems your bedside manner continues to lack.”

“It was the most efficient method of verifying their claims,” Soren protests.

“Well maybe don’t pick the most efficient method if it’s going to suck!” Junie yells.

“Did you at least find an answer?” the Matriarch asks.

“I did,” Soren confirms. “They’re telling the truth.”

The Matriarch nods, satisfied. Then she looks back to them. “In that case, I apologize for the cold welcome you’ve received so far. We’re always wary of outsiders, but particularly when they come asking after such dangerous information.”

Tobias doesn’t respond, looking too riled up to answer politely. Nia doesn’t either, still trying to steady her own voice.

“In all truth,” the Matriarch continues, crossing her legs and folding her clawed hands atop her lap. “We summoned Carnelian here to research the crystals for a similar reason. While we weren’t hoping to find Xerneas, we have been concerned by the Silen mountains’ increasing instability. Although we’re aware that the issue is much more widespread than our little corner of the sky, I wanted to be sure that Yveltal’s presence wasn’t contributing in some way.”

“T-The mountains’ instability?” Nia echoes. “Like…the avalanches?”

The Matriarch nods. “The weather has been slowly growing more and more unpredictable each year, changing centuries-old patterns and creating volatile conditions. Storms and deadly winds are more common than ever, and our winters are harsher. And while the village itself has not been claimed by any, thankfully, a mystery dungeon formed on the next mountain over just last month.”

“And you already knew that Yveltal slept here, in the mountains,” Tobias guesses, brow furrowed and voice suspicious.

“We have records stating as much,” the Matriarch admits. “But we never sought him out. Intruding on a legend’s domain without reason is just asking for trouble. But when we noticed strange, unknown crystals growing on the mountainside…”

“You thought it best to look into them, just in case,” Nia finishes.

The Matriarch nods. “I wanted to know where exactly Yveltal slept, and if his proximity has been harming the village. Expediting the disasters. Carnelian was called in to verify that the crystals are indeed connected to Yveltal, and to track them to their source.”

“So have you already confirmed that they’re from Yveltal’s cocoon?” Tobias asks.

The Matriarch shakes her head. “Not yet. Carnelian believes we’re close, and has good reason to believe they are indeed from Yveltal, but we haven’t found his resting place.”

“Still, it sounds like we’re after the same thing, right?” Nia says. “If Carnelian can lead us to the crystals and we can confirm that Yveltal is actually here, that narrows down the locations where Xerneas could be sleeping.”

“And you believe Xerneas will be able to fix the world’s disruption,” the Matriarch says.

Nia winces. “W-Well…it’s more a hope than anything certain, but...”

“The dimensional border around our world is weakening,” Tobias says. “And soon it’s going to break entirely. We’re hoping that if we can find Xerneas, she can use her life energy to fill the gap and keep the barrier intact.”

There’s a long moment of silence where both Soren and the Matriarch take that in, looking thoughtful but not particularly surprised.

Finally, Soren speaks up. “Our pack has known for years that this was an issue involving the world’s aura, but where did you get such information?”

“Giratina,” Nia admits, cringing when both Soren and the Matriarch look at her in surprise. “It’s…sort of a long story.”

Soren huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. The spikes on the back of his paws catch Nia’s eye. “And even Giratina believes Xerneas will fix this?”

“You don’t think she can?” Tobias challenges.

“You should be more preoccupied with whether or not Xerneas will want to.”

A tense moment of quiet follows, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the room.

“What do you mean?” Nia asks.

“Xerneas and Yveltal are the gods of creation and destruction,” Soren says. “The cycle of life and death. If this is meant to be how the world ends, then Xerneas will likely not stop it from happening.”

Nia’s stomach churns. “W-What? But…if she can fix it, why wouldn’t she?”

“It’s not her role,” Soren says simply. “Her duty is to rebuild once the destruction has already passed. Not to prevent it from occurring at all. If there were no winter, there would be no spring, after all.”

Nia shakes her head. No, that can’t be true. Right now, Xerneas is their only hope. If fixing the border is impossible, then…then this whole world and everyone in it will die. And so will the human world.

“And how do you know that for sure?” Tobias growls.

“Because Xerneas is the god of creation,” Soren says. “The guardian of life energy—of aura. We lucario are her most devout followers. We follow her guidance our entire lives.”

Another long pause. Nia feels panic slowly rising in her chest.

“S-So what does that mean for us?” Junie asks. “This was the only idea we had, right?”

Soren doesn’t answer, looking calmly resigned to such a fate.

The Matriarch, however, scoffs. “For such a stubborn bunch, you lucario are so weak-willed. I, for one, am not letting my village die without a fight.”

Nia looks at the older Pokemon in surprise.

Soren sighs. “Matriarch, you know as well as I do that finding and waking Xerneas is a long shot on its own, but convincing her to stop the cycle of life and death is simply a fool’s errand.”

“Ha!” The Matriarch bares her sharp teeth at Soren, the expression feeling more like a challenge than a smile. “Then consider me a fool, pup. You and your father might believe in following the will of the world, but I do not.”

“Then…you’re on our side?” Nia asks, quiet.

The Matriarch looks at Nia with a gleam in her eyes. “Thankfully, while the pack is not under my control, neither am I under theirs. So consider my village an ally in this wild legend hunt of yours. August always was one for crazy ideas.”

Hope lifts once more in Nia’s chest. “So you think we can do it? Fix the barrier?”

“Won’t know until we try,” the Matriarch says with a shrug. “And it’s better to die fighting than to roll over and guide death’s foot right to your throat.”

Soren makes a derisive sound from his spot off to the side, clearly disagreeing with the sentiment.

Nia is sticking firmly with the Matriarch on this one. Nia doesn’t care if Xerneas thinks this is the natural order of things, or if a new world would be born from the ashes of this one’s destruction. This is her world. Her people. This world and the human one both. She won’t let them go without a fight.

“So the plan remains unchanged, then,” Tobias says, glancing between Nia, Samir, and Junie.

Nia takes a breath and nods. “We find Yveltal to confirm his presence, then use his location to find Xerneas and ask her to reinforce the barrier.”

“And if she refuses?” Soren asks. His tone is neutral, but only just.

“Then we cross that bridge when we get to it,” Nia says, voice a bit sharper than necessary.

“Three cheers for winging it!” Junie says, pumping a wing from her spot on Nia’s shoulder.

Tobias snorts.

Samir looks just as solemn as they usually do when the topic of their mission comes up, but thankfully the skiddo doesn’t seem to have been shaken from their resolve at all. Their front leg, however, is still being held delicately above the rug.

Right. Samir’s injured, Fidel is unconscious somewhere, and between exhaustion, stress, and hunger, Nia feels moments away from withering away into a pile of dust. Right on cue, her stomach growls, loudly. She groans and covers her face with her hands, embarrassed.

“Sounds like you’re more than ready for food and rest,” the Matriarch says, clearly amused. “We can move forward with the search tomorrow morning. Have Eira take a look at your injuries, and then rest up. You should all be able to fit comfortably in the guest lodgings with your old acquaintance.”

Old acquaintance?

A timid knock comes from the doorway, and Nia turns to the newcomer. She perks up when she sees a familiar little ghost Pokemon, his translucent purple body nearly lost to the darkness if not for his diamond eyes glinting in the firelight.

“Carnelian!”

The sableye looks shy but pleased by Nia’s excited greeting, returning her wave across the room.

“Enter, Carnelian,” the Matriarch says.

The sableye skitters over to join them, smiling with sharp teeth. If Nia had seen such a face in the human world she probably would’ve had nightmares about it, but here and now she finds it strangely endearing.

“It’s so good to see you!” Nia says, feeling her tail wagging behind her. She has to fight off the urge to hug the nervous little ghost.

“I-It’s good to see you too,” Carnelian says. He looks between Nia and Tobias, then quickly averts his eyes from Samir and Junie’s curious gazes. “I-I was shocked when Cobalt sent word that you were here!”

Cobalt? Maybe one of the other lucario.

“Are you all right sharing the guest house with me during your stay?” Carnelian asks. “I-It’s the only one in the village since they usually never have visitors, but I-I wasn’t expecting anyone so I did have quite a few of my books shipped over, which in hindsight feels rude but—”

“Books?!” Nia interrupts, ears pricking.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Tobias says.

Junie laughs. “Just try keeping this nerd out of your place now!”

Carnelian lights up. “Oh! Well, I-I’m happy to share!”

That is music to Nia’s ears. While they’re sure to be busy while they’re here and Nia still has plenty of books to read at the guild, she’s excited to see what the sableye has on hand.

“Go on, then,” the Matriarch says, catching their attention. She waves them out with a clawed hand. “Tomorrow morning, you’ll join Carnelian, Nouf, and Soren bright and early in the search for Yveltal.”

Soren is helping? Nia looks at the lucario, surprised.

In turn, the lucario scowls at the Matriarch with more expression than Nia has seen from him all night. “With all due respect, Matriarch, I never agreed to help.”

“Ah, but I have ways of getting your father on my side,” the Matriarch says, winking at Nia and the others. “Preparing the young leader-in-training to socialize properly with outsiders is a valuable skill, wouldn’t you say?”

Leader in training? So Soren isn’t the leader of the lucario pack, but the son of the leader? Nia supposes that does explain his stoic but deferring demeanor in the Matriarch’s presence. Even now, the lucario is visibly reigning in his irritation, jaw clenching and eyes closing for a moment before he regains his calm countenance.

“We shall see.”

“That we shall. Carnelian, if you would?”

“Y-Yes, ma’am!”

The sableye leads Nia and the others out of the room and down the hall, back outside and into the frigid bite of mountain air. Nia shivers and steps closer to Tobias to leech some of his meager warmth, keeping an eye on Samir on her other side. The skiddo is still limping, carefully navigating the icy ground so they don’t slip and fall.

Carnelian is surprisingly chatty as he leads them across town, clearly familiar with the place after a couple weeks of living here. He points out the purpose of each building they pass, from the market to the town storage to the homes of individual civilians.

Nia feels a little bad interrupting him, but she can’t help asking, “Carnelian, you don’t happen to know how Fidel is doing, do you? The zoroark that showed up with us?”

“O-Oh! Yes, Eira was checking him over when I left,” Carnelian says. “I don’t think she was too worried about him. She starts frosting over her workspace when she’s really stressed, and when I left, everything was still ice-free! In fact, I-I think she wanted to move him into the guest quarters to have somewhere warm to recover, so he might even be there already when we arrive.”

Oh, that would be lovely. While Nia’s just relieved to hear that Fidel is in good hands, she’ll feel much better once she sees him again for herself.

Thankfully, they reach Carnelian’s house—or, more accurately, the guest lodgings—soon thereafter. It’s a cozy triangle of a building, similar to the other houses they’ve passed, with warmth spilling through shuttered windows and painting the snow around its base with golden light and blue shadows.

Carnelian pulls open the front door and leads them inside, and Nia’s eyes immediately find Fidel’s bright red mane of hair. The zoroark is curled up beneath a pile of thick blankets, bandages peeking out from under his fur. The quilted lump of his body rises and falls with steady breaths.

Thank goodness.

At his side, an unfamiliar Pokemon is placing medical supplies back into a sturdy woven bag, though she pauses to look up as they enter. She’s very clearly an ice type, mostly white with light blue accents and two shards of ice atop her head. However, she also comes across as very feminine—almost like she’s wearing a kimono. Her arms flare out around her wrists like long sleeves, and a red sash-like piece circles her middle before arcing out behind her like a bow. She floats a few inches off the ground, no legs beneath her, and her face almost reminds Nia of a skull, the skin beneath her eyeholes and jaw a frostbitten purple. Her eyes are just as blue as Soren’s, striking a balance between beautiful and haunting.

Her expression warms as she sees them, though. “Welcome back. These are the rest of our guests, I assume?”

“Yes!” Carnelian moves to stand at the healer’s side, presenting the much larger Pokemon in an unusually confident gesture. “This is Eira! The best healer in the mountains.”

Eira gives him a playful nudge. “I’m the only healer in these mountains, you sly spirit.” Then she floats forward and bows to them. “It’s nice to meet you all. I assume the Matriarch let you know that I would be attending to your medical needs?”

“Yes!” Nia bows in return. “Thank you so much for taking care of Fidel.”

“Of course! Go ahead and take a seat, and I’ll check on the rest of you one by one.”

Nia takes a look around as they step inside the building, amused by what she finds. While the walls are a warm wooden brown, and a patterned rug spreads over most of the floor, any décor, is hidden behind towers of books and loose-leaf paper. Tabletops are similarly covered by piles of stones and gems.

Carnelian has certainly made himself at home here, huh?

Their spare bed, luckily, is already set up on the floor next to Fidel, close to the fireplace set into the wall. Nia groans with relief as she flops into it, spreading out and stretching her sore, cold muscles in the warmth of the fire. Junie does the same with a happy sigh, and Tobias and Samir follow shortly after, the four of them piling together on the makeshift cot like puzzle pieces as their bodies are finally allowed to rest.

This is heaven.

“Carnelian, why don’t you grab them some food?” Eira says, more of an order than a suggestion even with her light, almost tinkling voice.

“O-Oh! Of course, you all must be starving!” Carnelian hurries out of the house, and Nia blinks after him, surprised yet again by his eagerness.

“Excuse my cousin’s excitement,” Eira says, floating over to them with her medical supplies in tow. “He doesn’t often feel comfortable with strangers, but he told me all about Team Scarlet when he first arrived the other week. He’s thrilled to see you again.”

Nia flushes beneath her fur as she sits up. “We didn’t do that much for him, really! We were just doing our job.”

“Mm.” Eira looks at Nia fondly. “Yes, I imagined you’d say something like that. Well, just know that you have my thanks, regardless.”

“You’re his cousin?” Junie interrupts, looking curiously between Eira and the door where Carnelian had disappeared.

“I am!” Eira says, looking proud as she starts pulling out medical supplies. Bandages, herbs and little jars of ointment become organized piles on the floor. “When the Matriarch mentioned the crystals and their possible importance, I knew Carnelian would be up for the task. He’s very sharp, you know.”

“I can’t wait to see him in action!” Nia says.

Eira hums her agreement, glancing over their group with an expert eye before settling next to Samir and gesturing for them to extend their injured leg. The skiddo looks annoyed, but silently does as asked. Eira hums and feels around their leg, all the way from the lump of their knee down to their hoof, noting when they tense up and asking where it hurts most.

Nia looks away since Samir seems strangely embarrassed about the injury. As she soaks up the heat of the fire and pets Junie’s soft feathers, her eyes catch instead on Tobias. The charmander is scratching at his neck with an irritable expression.

“You okay?” she asks.

Tobias jumps, his face flushing. “Yeah. Yeah, just, uh. An itch.”

Nia frowns, tilting her head. “You sure? I thought I saw you scratching at your neck when we were climbing, too.”

Tobias averts his eyes, looking disgruntled. “’S fine. Just some old injuries acting up in the cold.”

“Oh. Maybe Eira has something for that?”

Tobias shrugs. Then, he looks back at Nia. “Are you okay? After whatever that lucario jerk did earlier?”

Nia blinks. She recognizes the deflection for what it is, but she’s also surprised Tobias is still thinking about that. “O-Oh. Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t great, but it’s not like it hurt or anything?”

“It was super creepy is what it was!” Junie says, sitting up from where she’d been sprawled across the blankets like a bird splatted against a window. Her feathers puff out as her anger reignites. “I thought it’d feel like when Nia reads my aura but it felt like the dude was rifling through my pockets or something! Except it was my head or my soul or whatever, which made it ten times worse! Talk about an invasion of privacy.”

Tobias’ eyes darken and he glances at the door, as if debating whether or not to march back outside and find the lucario to chew him out properly.

Nia lays a hand on his arm to keep him in place. “Yeah, it, um…felt a lot more intrusive than I would’ve liked. Junie, you said it doesn’t feel like that when I read your aura, right?”

Junie looks up at Nia, surprised. “What? No, definitely not! When you do it it’s all warm and stuff! Like…I’m your little guinea pig and you’re giving me a nice bath or something.”

Nia snorts a laugh, caught off-guard by the comparison. “Like what?”

“You know what I mean! It's like...how little animals get nervous about people handling ‘em, and you need to reassure them and be gentle and stuff so you don’t stress ‘em out, right? When he was doing the aura stuff, it was kind of…scary? I could feel how easily he pried my thoughts open, and he didn’t really care that I was nervous. But with you, you’re always super soft and stuff and you don’t pry like that, so I always feel safe!”

Oh. Nia doesn’t think she realized she was actually worried about this until Junie immediately laid her fears to rest. Hot tears prick at her eyes.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t get all weepy on me! Your little guinea pig doesn’t know how to deal with that!”

Nia barks another laugh. “Stop saying that!”

“She’s right,” Tobias says, catching Nia’s attention. His eyes are low, something in his posture a little upset. “I was nervous when you read my aura, but it wasn’t bad at all with you. I’m sorry he didn’t treat you two the same way.”

Fresh tears spring to Nia’s eyes. “Tobias!”

“Stop, you’re making her cry more! One guinea pig can only handle so many tears!”

Their delirious conversation continues until Eira gives Samir the all-clear. The skiddo’s leg is bandaged from the top of their hoof up to their knee, a chunk of ice tied to both joints. Their entire leg is also elevated on a pillow, and they look down at the setup with a disgruntled expression.

Nia’s happy mood dampens.

“All right,” Eira says with a little clap. “Other than that sprain, you should be good to go, Skiddo. No walking for you tomorrow, but you should be clear for the day after.”

Samir looks away with their ears low, not answering.

“Hey, that’s not too bad!” Junie calls, trying to cheer Samir up. “C’mon, we’re weak to ice types, dude. We’re lucky we even made it up here at all!”

Samir huffs, still not looking at any of them. Nia’s brow furrows.

Eira floats over to Tobias next. “Tobias, right? Let’s give you a look next.”

Tobias sighs but doesn’t argue, removing his winter gear and letting the ice type look him over. He is pretty beat up, bloody scratches and blossoming bruises littering his skin. Luckily, they all seem pretty minor, at least to Nia’s untrained eye.

Junie flutters around the charmander, chirping about how he’s going to look like a chameleon with all those colorful bruises, and Nia takes the opportunity to scoot over to Samir, who’s still glaring down at their bandaged leg.

“Hey,” Nia murmurs. “You okay?”

Samir doesn’t meet her eye, but they do nod.

Nia doesn’t believe them.

For a long moment, Nia worries at her lip, working up her courage. “Hey, Samir? I wanted to apologize.”

Samir finally looks up, visibly confused.

“About what I said on the mountain, after the avalanche,” Nia explains, shame squirming in her gut. She looks down, picking at the melting snow encrusted onto the bottom of her coat. “And during the avalanche too, I guess.”

Samir stares, still not getting it.

“I didn’t listen to you. Or, well, I almost didn’t. About letting Fidel go. I knew it was too dangerous to let my shield drop, but I just thought if I could grab him, I could—” Nia cuts herself off, taking a breath. “You were right. And I’m sorry that I argued with you. And then yelled at you afterwards. I was really worried about Fidel, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you when you were just trying to keep us safe.”

Samir doesn’t respond. After a few beats of silence, Nia peeks up at them.

The skiddo seems flabbergasted, blinking at her and her hunched, contrite posture. Finally, shakily, they whistle a quiet low-to-high response: Okay. It’s okay. They still seem like they’re trying to wrap their head around her apology.

Nia breathes a sigh of relief as one of the many, many weights on her shoulders melts away.

“Thank you. I just wanted to say that right away, especially since we’ll be separated most of the day tomorrow,” Nia says.

The skiddo’s glare returns as they focus back on their injured leg. They narrow their eyes, then glance at Eira, who is smearing some kind of salve on Tobias’ cuts and bruises and bandaging up the worst of them. Then Samir’s eyes flick to the door.

Oh no. Nia recognizes that look.

“Samir,” Nia warns in a low voice, leaning closer. “I saw that. You are not sneaking out to join us tomorrow.”

Samir huffs and shakes their head, stamping their other foreleg ineffectually against the blankets as they meet Nia’s gaze. No, they whistle.

“Samir, you have to rest! What if you hurt your leg more by walking on it too soon?”

Samir is shaking their head fervently before she’s even done talking. They meet her eyes, whistling again. No.

Nia stares at them, trying to understand why they’re suddenly so stubborn about this. They did this on the mountainside too, when they were freshly injured and trying to hobble down to help unbury Fidel despite Nia and Tobias telling the skiddo to stay put.

For someone so serious about Nia and Tobias playing it safe, they aren’t very safe with themself, are they? It’s like Samir thinks they’re playing by different rules, like they don’t get to rest just because they’re hurt. Like something terrible will happen if they do.

And then it clicks.

Nia feels her heart drop. She stares at the desperate shine in Samir’s eyes, at the way their mouth trembles the slightest bit.

Samir’s old partner abandoned them when they got hurt, right? So who’s to say that Nia and Tobias won’t do the same?

Nia hesitates, but then reaches out to cup Samir’s face in her hands. The skiddo jolts a bit, surprised, but doesn’t pull away. “Samir, you know you’re allowed to rest when you’re hurt, right?”

Samir’s eyes widen, something like fear crossing their face. They tug weakly against her hold.

Nia tightens her grip. “Samir, we want you to rest. It’s fine if you sit out tomorrow.”

Samir shakes their head, closing their eyes tight.

Nia tries to put all the conviction she can into her voice. “We aren’t going to leave you behind or think you’re a bad partner or something just because you got hurt, all right?”

Samir slowly stops fighting, cracking their eyes open again to search Nia’s face.

“We’re not your old teammate, Samir. When you’re ready to go again, we’ll still be here, okay? But until you’re better, just…please rest. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Samir’s expression crumbles. They yank their head free of her hold and dip their head to hide their face.

Nia silently panics, hands reaching. Was that the right thing to say? Did she make it better or worse? What does she do now? Scoot closer or leave them be?

Before she can decide, Samir gently buries their face in her lap, careful not to prod her with their horns. They’re shaking.

Oh.

Nia quietly turns her body to hide the skiddo from the others’ view, stroking a hand down the back of their head and through the surprisingly soft mane of their leaves as Samir shudders.

“You’re our teammate, Samir,” Nia murmurs. “And more importantly, our friend. You don’t have to prove yourself every moment of every day, okay? Especially if it’s going to hurt you. We don’t want that. Okay?”

Samir sniffles, but finally nods against Nia’s stomach. She smiles, relieved.

By the time Eira deems Tobias’ inspection finished, Samir has pulled themself together again, wiping at their face with their good foreleg. They look mortified by their little breakdown, avoiding Nia’s gaze, so she just gives them one more gentle smile before shuffling back to Tobias and Junie.

Tobias is covered in small bandages and shiny poultices, his expression resigned. Junie is making fun of the charmander even as Eira checks her over, gently extending her small wings and feeling for any breaks or strains.

Luckily, Junie is cleared with no injuries, and then it’s Nia’s turn. She dutifully takes off her own winter gear and follows Eira’s instructions as the ice type looks her over, gently squeezing and feeling along her limbs and shoulders.

As Nia answers Eira’s questions, she spots Tobias once more scratching at his neck, annoyed expression twitching into something painful before he pulls his claws away.

Nia frowns. She doesn’t know why Tobias doesn’t want Eira to see whatever scars he has perpetually hidden beneath his scarf, but…

She looks over her shoulder, to where Eira is finishing up. “Hey, Eira?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you have anything for…old wounds? Uh, like when they act up in the cold?”

“For scars, you mean?” Eira asks, coming back around to face Nia with a curious expression.

“Um,” Nia looks over Eira’s shoulder, at her partner, and back. “I think so.”

Eira follows her gaze, making a quiet “Ah” of realization. Then she nods and digs into her bag, handing a jar of salve over to Nia. “Here—advise him to put it on once in the morning, any time during the day when the itching is bothering him, and once at night before bed, all right? Don’t be afraid to really pile it on. It should help moisturize and soothe the irritation, and it has a nip of a numbing agent, too.”

Nia takes the jar gratefully, cradling it in her hands. “Thank you so much.”

“Just doing my job,” Eira says, echoing Nia’s earlier words with a smile.

Just as they’re finishing their last checkup, Carnelian finally returns with food in tow.

“S-Sorry for the wait!” the sableye says, gently kicking the door open and shuffling inside with two bowls in hand. Soup? Whatever it is, it’s steaming hot, and Nia’s stomach rumbles as she takes a deep sniff of the air. “I had to get an extra pair of wings to help me bring them over.”

Behind Carnelian, a fluffy, red and white penguin-like Pokemon waddles in. He’s holding two more bowls of soup, one notably smaller than the rest for Junie’s tiny stomach. “Hey, Eira! Got some hungry bellies in here?”

Eira smiles at the newcomer. “That we do. Thank you for your help, Nico.”

Nico smiles back, and he and Carnelian quickly pass out the four bowls of soup. The food smells wonderful, hearty and well-spiced and loaded with some kind of vegetables. Or maybe roots?

Whatever the ingredients are, the dish has Nia drooling.

They quickly tuck in with a word of thanks, and Nia practically inhales her food, savoring the hot, salty broth, the soft potato-like vegetables and withered greens, and the slice of bread that Nico pulled out—from his tail?—and handed to them once they were settled.

If Nia weren’t so focused on devouring her meal, she’d be curious about all the ingredients they used for it. Vegetation doesn’t seem like it would do well in this climate, considering the lack of trees and grasses they’d seen on the way up. Maybe some kind of cold-resistant berries or crops grow up here? Or maybe they use roots or pine needles or tree bark or something. She thinks she remembers something like that back in the human world.

Whatever the answer is, Nia doesn’t think she’s ever tasted anything better.

Nico chats idly with Carnelian and Eira as Team Scarlet eats, the bird looking proud of how quickly they drain their bowls. When they’re done, satiated and warm and ready to pass out, they give the bird another round of thanks that he accepts with a bashful “Shucks!” before taking their bowls and spoons and heading out for the night. Eira follows him out, wishing everyone a good sleep and letting them know she’ll be back before they set out in the morning, and to send Carnelian for her if Fidel showed any worrying symptoms overnight.

Carnelian tries to start up a new conversation with them after that, but they don’t last long before they’re slurring their words through big yawns. Nia’s eyes feel heavier and heavier with each passing blink, and Junie has already slumped over into a lump of snoring feathers.

“You’d better get some rest before tomorrow,” Carnelian says with a smile. He slides a few more logs into the fire and peeks at Fidel’s sleeping face before retreating to his own nest in the back of the lodge with one of his books. Huh. It’s pretty dark over there, but maybe ghost types have good night vision? That would make sense.

They’re all too exhausted to go far, so they lie down to sleep right where they’d been sitting. It’s not until Nia almost flops right on top of something hard that she remembers the jar she’d been keeping tucked away in her lap.

Oh, right!

Nia holds back another yawn and pushes herself back up. She squints over at Tobias, grateful that Junie is already out cold and Samir is quickly nodding off themself, their head dipping. “Hey, Tobias?”

Tobias was just about to lie down, too. Instead, his jaw cracks with a yawn as he looks back at her, matching her low tone. “Yeah?”

Nia holds the jar out to him. “Here.”

Tobias blinks sluggishly at the jar, then back at her, a furrow in his brow. “What’s this?”

“You said you had old injuries acting up, right? Like scars? I asked Eira if she had medicine for something like that and she said to use this when you wake up and go to sleep. Oh, and also if it itches during the day.”

Some alertness returns to Tobias’ expression as he realizes what Nia’s saying. He stares at her, face flushing, before he finally takes the jar and holds it close to his chest. “Oh. Um. Thanks, Nia. I’ll give it a try.”

Nia hums and flops back down in her spot on the bed, sighing happily at the softness and warmth. Just before she drifts off to sleep, Nia’s sharp ears hear the quiet spin of the lid being opened.

She hopes it helps.

#pmd #pokemon mystery dungeon #pokemon #lucario #froslass #weavile #tesha draws #tesha writes #pmd seekers of soul

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