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happydragon · 3 months

Text

To Coming Home

Summary: Tech should not have survived that fall. But he did. Now he needs to get back home. My take on a Tech lives au.

Ao3

Rating: Gen

Word Count: 6,500

Disclaimer: I in no way shape or form, have any sort of mobility disability or use a cane to walk. I in no way shape or form meant to offend anyone who does and hope I gave a semi-accurate depiction of what it can be like

Edit: I forgot to put in the word "island" before so now it's 6,500 instead of 6,499 lol

The first thing Tech remembered when he woke up was falling. He could still hear the groaning of metal and air rushing past his ears as he fell to what he thought would be his death. Seeing as he was not only resting on a soft but firm surface but could still feel pain throughout his entire body, that did not appear to be the case.

Next thing he remembered was seeing Wrecker reach out in an attempt to grab Tech. Tech was confident that this was not the case either as he was sure Hunter would have said something as soon as Tech was awake.

This led him to the conclusion that he did indeed fall due to enacting Plan 99 but has somehow survived. Not unscathed obviously. The pain was a very helpful reminder of that. The question of course remained of how he survived. A good place to start would be to figure out where he was exactly.

After struggling for a moment to open his eyes, he finally succeeded and was welcomed by an unfamiliar brown ceiling. Now that he was properly awake, Tech could now tell he was in a bed of some sort. He turned his head to the side, much to the protest of his unused muscles, and found a nightstand with a single cup. To his other side was a wall and along the wall was a single durasteel door with no lock.

He had just begun to push himself up so he could investigate the contents of the cup when the door opened to reveal a large surly human man, his face covered by a thick dark beard and head covered by a hat or head covering of some sort. He wore a clean and simple shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing hairy and tanned arms. His pants were also simple but appeared to be covered with flecks of mud.

“Ah,” the man simply stated, “So you finally decided to wake up.”

“So it seems,” Tech coughed, his voice hoarse from inactivity.

The man said nothing as he strode forward, picked up the glass, and with a gentleness that took Tech slightly by surprise, the man lifted the glass to Tech’s lips, supporting his head as he drank. Tech was glad to discover it was water and drank it greedily. Once he emptied the cup, the man placed the cup back on the nightstand, pulled a chair Tech had not seen before, and set it next to the bed. The man then proceeded to sit in the chair, leaned back, and gave a big sigh.

“Name’s Thom Dodonna,” he began, “I’m sure you have some questions just like I have some for you. I’ll do you a favor and tell you how you ended up here so we can get rid of any unnecessary questions. Afterward, you can ask me your questions, but then I’m going to ask mine. Understood?”

Tech nodded, finding this the most logical course of action.

“Good,” Thom gruffed, “About several weeks back, I was checking some of my fish traps in one of the deeper lakes around here when a railcar hit the water and you came falling in after it. You must have known you were about to hit the water because you somehow managed to go in feet first, which helped lessen some of your injuries. Once I recovered from the shock, I dove in after you, seeing as you didn’t come back up right away. After I got you to shore, I took you to the nearby town where the doc had you in a bacta tank for about two weeks before someone else needed it more. Doc gave me permission to bring you to my place, away from nosy people, so you could continue to recover. You’ve been here for almost a week and a half and this is the first time you’ve actually been conscious.”

Tech took a moment to process the information. So he did survive the fall and was still on Eriadu, which meant one of two things. One was that his family believed that he was dead and would explain why he was not with them now. The other conclusion was that it was they who did not survive the mission and had been either captured or killed, thus making his sacrifice pointless. While he most definitely preferred one over the other, he currently had no way of knowing if either was true. He would need to add it to the ever-growing list of problems that he hoped could be solved quickly.

“Firstly,” Tech began, “I’d like to thank you for rescuing me and seeing to my recovery. I believe I am in your debt.”

Thom huffed but said nothing, so Tech continued, “Secondly, I would like to inquire as to the extent of my injuries.”

“Well, Doc said most of the life-threatening stuff had been taken care of by the bacta, but because you weren’t in there long enough, not everything was fixed.”

Thom reached behind him, toward the same place where he got the chair, pulled a cane, and leaned it against the nightstand.

“Doc said you did some serious damage to your legs and may need some help walking right even with physical therapy. Doc also said you’d be experiencing some pain but didn’t say if it would stop or not.”

Well. That wasn’t nearly as bad as Tech initially thought. While neither was ideal, he’d much rather be in pain and never walk properly again than be dead. Perhaps he could modify his cane to his liking. It would certainly be helpful if it had more than one use. It would be a good project to work on for a later date.

“Very well,” Tech finally said, “My next question would be if you have sort of long-range communications so that I may contact my family.”

“Unfortunately I don’t. There’s only one in town and it’s run by the Empire. Now I’d like to ask you some questions.”

While Tech was disappointed that he could not contact his family to know whether or not they were alive, in turn, let them know he was alive, he knew it was probably for the best. If the Empire intercepted his message, they might use it to capture Tech and possibly use him as bait for his family. Of course, he could encrypt it, but that meant they would come here to get him and Eriadu was still an Imperial-occupied planet. Tech already sacrificed himself to make sure they escaped. He would not be the reason they were captured.

He suddenly realized that Thom was waiting for Tech’s permission to start asking questions. Tech internally shook his head, then nodded for Thom to continue.

“Are you an Imperial or a bounty hunter?”

“No, I am not.”

“Good. Don’t tell me what you are though. The less I know the better. I assume you need to hide from certain people while you recover?”

“If possible, yes.”

“Alright then. I’ll go let Doc know you’re awake and get you started on healing.”

All Tech could do was nod as Thom stood up and walked out to find the doctor. As he lay there, he wondered how long it would take for him to recover. Ideally, he would hope not too long. He would like to return to his family as soon as possible. Realistically, it could take months, quite possibly a year at most. There was also the issue of getting back to his family. He’d rather have a ship, as it would be easier and safer to get a direct flight from here to Pabu. He would have to ask Thom if he had one Tech could use. Flying would not require much movement and he could recover with his family. Yes, that would be the best course of action.

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

Much to Tech’s dismay, Thom did not have a ship Tech could use and Doctor Theala Togs, a human woman with short black hair and a tall stature, did not give a favorable timeline as to his recovery. At first, he tried to push himself for a speedier recovery, against Doctor Togs’s wishes but soon stopped. Tech has had his fair share of medics but Doctor Togs was not a woman to be crossed.

After four months of physical therapy, Tech attempted to walk again with the support of the cane. Unfortunately, just walking to the door made him feel like he ran five klicks. It took another two months before he could walk with some semblance of ease around Thom’s home and that was with the help of a cane. Doctor Togs had explained it was not likely that he would walk without the cane again. Tech was told this when he first woke up, but that still did not prepare him for the anger he felt when it was explained to him again. He refused to leave his room for the next day and a half, only to be dragged out to get some air by Thom on Doctor Togs’s orders.

Tech continued to exercise after that, pushing himself as much as the doctor would allow. He began to feel his strength rebuild itself and though he knew it would never be what it once was, it was a reminder that he was one step closer to reuniting with his family. He refused to believe they were anything but alive and safe on Pabu with Phee, Shep, and Lyana. If he did, he wasn’t sure he would ever be able to recover.

In the meantime, Tech began to repair some small electronics in exchange for credits. It began with Thom’s kettle, which had stopped working, much to his frustrations. Once Tech acquired a pair of round spectacles, (his helmet and goggles were removed after he was brought to shore. Thom attempted to back and find them, but he said that someone had come and cleaned the crash site, leaving no trace there ever was a crash) he was able to repair it in less than a minute. Then Thom began to bring items from various townsfolk. Mostly small things, a short-range com unit here, a datapad there. In return, he was given a handful of credits for each task.

One day, Doctor Togs wanted Tech to walk to the town and back, so Thom took Tech with him on his next trip to town. They strolled from shop to shop, Tech needing multiple breaks to rest his aching legs. He was incredibly grateful for Thom’s endless patience. He didn’t speak much, but he was a good man.

On one such break, Tech noticed a rodian woman become increasingly frustrated with her servant droid. The droid was placed on a table and powered down while the woman seemed to be trying to find the problem with the droid. After a particularly nasty string of curses that could make a pirate blush, Tech stood up from where he was seated and approached the woman, offering his assistance.

“Might as well,” she said as she stepped away from the droid, “The only repair shop around here charges way too much. You’d save me some credits if you can fix the damn thing.”

Tech simply nodded and examined the droid. He quickly found the problem and asked for the tool she was using, repairing the droid in under ten minutes.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed, “You sir just saved me an arm and a leg! How much do I owe you?”

Tech began to insist it was no trouble, but Thom interrupted, “He’ll take ten credits.”

“Oh! I didn’t realize he was with you, Thom.”

“He’s a family friend. Staying with me while he recovers from an accident that damaged his legs.”

“Sorry to hear that. Hope you recover quickly,” she said to Tech, then fished ten credits from her bag and handed them to him. “What’s your name so I can refer others to you? Maker knows we need someone that won’t cheat us for an easy job.”

As he took the credits, he thought for a moment before responding, “You may call me Titus Genoa.”

Shortly thereafter, Tech began to make daily trips into town to repair various household items or droids. He thrived in his comfort zone. He was relieved to have some semblance of normal in this new challenge. There were of course some days when the ache in his legs was too strong, and Thom would bring the items to Tech.

Thankfully the Imperial presence was next to nothing which allowed Tech to operate a little more freely. Unfortunately, his presence seemed to anger others, namely the human man who ran the local repair shop. The man tried to bribe Tech to stop and when that didn’t work the man threatened Tech. Tech simply ignored the man and continued to work. This was a mistake.

On the way back to Thom’s home one day, Tech was cornered by some thugs. Because his strength was not what it used to be, the thugs gave him a nasty beating and stole all the credits he earned that day. Luckily, one of his regulars found him and was able to get him quickly to Doctor Togs. The first and only time Tech had ever seen Thom upset was when he learned Tech kept the threats a secret. From then on Thom accompanied Tech on every trip to town. Tech also found the credits he lost lying on his bed once Doctor Togs released him. He said nothing but repaired all of Thom’s traps as a thanks.

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

As the anniversary of his rescue (and by extension the last time he saw his family and Phee) approached, Tech became increasingly, shall one say, erratic. He had all but completely recovered from his injury and could walk into town with very little need to rest. Due to this, he began to push himself and took on more projects than one could normally handle. Tech was not normal though. He was an experimental clone from Clone Force 99. His superior intellect allowed him to solve dozens of problems without resistance. So no matter what Thom thought or said, Tech was doing perfectly fine.

He had been on his third day with little sleep, running on nothing but caf and stims, when Thom had enough and locked Tech in his room, away from any projects he was working on. Tech would be ashamed to admit later that he called his friend several colorful things in multiple languages.

Later that evening, after Tech gave up trying to escape and finally slept, Thom brought some dinner and sat down with Tech as he ate. For a while, neither of them said anything, and then Thom broke the silence.

“Tell me about them,” he said, “About your loved ones. You don’t need to tell me any names. Just about them.”

So Tech did. He told Thom about his childhood spent with his brothers raising hell and how, when they were old enough, they fought together as a unit. Later another brother joined them and they were unbeatable. Then the Empire came and it all changed. While Tech gained a sister, he lost a brother. Then it was a series of adventure after adventure. He left out any part dealing directly with the Empire as he was worried that would reveal too much.

When he began to talk about Pabu and Phee, Thom’s face changed into a mischievous teasing smile.

“She your love?” Thom teased. Tech knew he was teasing but the comment still made him pause. Is that what Phee was to him? He knew she meant something, seeing as he took her name when he needed to give one. He couldn't imagine she would mind, but why did he do it? There were certainly other names he could have used, but he chose hers. Why? Because she meant something. She gave him and his family a place to call home. A place where Omega could have grown up free and happy. That’s all he’s ever wanted for his family. For them to be happy. Whether that was continuing to fight for the Republic or building a life away from everything. While on Pabu, Tech could imagine building such a life, one that he hoped could include a certain liberator of ancient wonders. He also did not leave things on the best of notes. Which meant all the more reason he needed to get back.

“I do not know yet,” Tech finally answered, “But if she’ll have me then yes.”

Thom nodded, happy with the answer. Then he took the tray and told Tech to get some sleep. Tech began to protest, but Thom was gone before he could even get the words out. Tech did not need to sleep. He needed to get back to his family. The same family that would just accept it when he would sometimes pull all-nighters. However, if he did too many in a row, Hunter would order Wrecker to grab a hold of Tech. He would then be forced into a sleep pile with the rest of their family. Tech in turn would do the same whenever Hunter had begun to overwork himself.

So while he needed to get back to his family, they would want for him to take care of himself. As long as they were safe on Pabu, Tech could be patient for just a little longer but once he had all the credits he needed, he was going home.

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

“I do not suppose I’ll see you again,” Tech asked Thom as the former stood at the bottom of the ramp of his brand-new ship. After one year, three months, ten days, six hours, and 21 minutes, Tech finally had enough credits to buy a decent ship that could take him to Pabu. It wasn’t the Marauder, but it would suffice. He thankfully did not have much to pack; only some clothes and the wooden cane he was first given. When he found out Thom had carved it for Tech, he could not bring himself to modify it. He was grateful when it wasn’t broken by those thugs who attacked him that night. To be perfectly honest, Tech didn’t think even Wrecker could break it. It was a very solid cane.

“Probably for the best,” Thom replied, “We’d probably get each other into too much trouble.”

“Yes, I suppose that is a possibility.” Tech smiled. “Thank you for everything, Thom. I do not know how I could ever repay you.”

“Your friendship is more than enough for me.” A pause. “Though I do have one request.”

“Name it.”

“Your name. Even if we never see each other again, it would bring me comfort to know your real name.”

On one hand, Tech was surprised. Never once had Thom asked for Tech’s real name. When he first told that rodian woman his false name, Thom had only asked if it was real. Tech confirmed that it was not, Thom simply nodded and went about whatever he was doing. On the other hand, Tech was relieved. He had not heard his name in quite some time, with the exception of Omega calling it out as he fell when he sometimes dreamt of that day. To hear it again from a friend would bring endless joy. A sign that Tech was finally going home.

“That is most agreeable,” Tech answered, “It is Tech.”

“Tech,” Thom tested the name on his tongue, “Suits you, what with how good you are with tech.”

“Technically, according to my brothers, that was not the reason for which I was named Tech, but yes, it does suit me well.”

Thom barked a hearty laugh, no doubt figuring out the real reason Tech was named Tech. Even though he did not originally like the reason for his name, it now brought a smile to his face at the memory.

“Well Tech,” Thom said after he composed himself, “I wish you a safe journey back to your family.”

Tech nodded in thanks, then he walked up the ramp and into the ship. As he sat in the pilot’s seat going through his pre-flight checklist, he spotted Thom through the window watching the ship. Just as Tech began to take off, he saluted Thom, to which he responded in kind, before the ship took off toward the sky.

As he inputted the coordinates for Pabu, Tech tried to think of what he was going to say to his family. He knew they believed him to be dead, so how does one reveal they are not. Truly, there was no easy or simple way of breaking the news, so he would have to do what he and his brothers do best. Improvise.

When he arrived in the planet’s atmosphere, Tech decided the trip was both too long and not quick enough. Doubt had begun to seep into his mind. What if they had moved on? What if they had replaced him? Would there be any room for him? What if his family truly wasn’t safe here but had been captured, even worse killed by the Empire?

A beeping from the ship pulled Tech from his spiraling thoughts. A ship was trying to hail him which concerned Tech. That’s never happened before. Last time something similar happened was when they first arrived back on Kamino, just after the order went out. A wave of panic ran through Tech. Had the Empire taken over? If they had, that meant his family wasn’t there. He had no clue where they could be if they weren’t on Pabu. He might truly never see them again.

No. He mustn't think like that. Even if he didn’t know where they could be, he would find them. No matter how long it took or who stood in his way, he would find them. Of that he was sure.

The other ship continued to hail him. Even if the Empire had taken over, there had to be someone who might know where his family was. For now, he would play along, so he could land and hopefully find some answers. So he accepted the call, preparing for the worst.

“Unidentified ship,” a familiar voice began, “State your name and purpose.”

“Titus Genoa,” Tech responded, giving his fake name as a precaution, “I have come to see my family.”

“Hold while we confirm.”

Tech moved to hold his hand over the button to fire the guns. If this turned bad, he wanted to be ready for anything. If he needed to shoot his way out of here, he would. After what seemed like hours, the other ship finally told him he could land near the Archium. He didn't know whether or not it was a good sign they didn’t shoot him down. Perhaps they wanted to interrogate him first. Only one way to find out.

He did not see the Marauder as he landed but tried not to fret too much about it. Perhaps they were just out for the moment. However, his mind could not decide between his family being alive and well or in danger and it was starting to annoy him. Hopefully, he will have answers soon.

Seeing no point in delaying any longer, Tech grabbed his cane and walked over to the entrance of the ramp. He painstakingly waited for it to lower all the way, anxious to get off. When it landed with a thud, he knew it was now or never. Part of Tech was grateful that the sun had begun its descent into the sea so that he was not blinded by the harsh light as he began to walk down the ramp. When he looked out onto the courtyard, he found it mostly empty save for a handful of very important people.

Tech supposed he shouldn’t be surprised at the sight of his brothers and Phee aiming their blasters at him, seeing as he used Phee’s name knowing she did not have any family outside of Shep and Lyana. He too would be outright suspicious.

“I would raise both my hands,” Tech said as he raised one hand in the air, “but I’m afraid I would not stand very long if I did.”

While their faces all displayed various forms of shock, Wrecker was the first to lower his blaster.

“Is it really you?” Wrecker asked in what could be considered a whisper to him and his family and a normal voice to outsiders.

Before Tech could answer, yes it really is me, another familiar voice called out, causing the five of them to turn and find Omega running straight for them. As she got closer, she slowed to a stop, confusion taking over her features as she looked at her brothers standing with Phee and then over to where Tech stood. Her confusion immediately shifted into shock and disbelief as she called out in a whimper, “Tech?”

Tech was barely holding in his own emotions at the sight of her. She had grown up more. Her hair was longer and her face shape reminded him of Crosshair’s. Gone was the baby fat that she once held, leaving behind a growing young lady.

“Hello Omega,” Tech said, his voice cracking, “You have grown up.”

She yelled his name once more before barreling toward him. It took all of his strength to stand as he let his cane clatter to the ground and held his arms open for her. Of course, once she tackled him he fell back but he didn't care. His sister was in his arms and he didn't want to ever let her go. He felt his neck grow wet from where she buried her face. He was sure his own tears had made their way onto her as well.

Suddenly they were being lifted up, as Wrecker had somehow snuck up on them and was now pulling them into his arms. He held them close as he mumbled “I'm so sorry. I should have been stronger,” over and over again.

Tech freed the arm that wasn't holding Omega from Wrecker's grip and wound it around his large brother’s neck. With his hand, Tech pulled Wrecker's forehead toward his and whispered that he didn't blame him, every time Wrecker apologized.

Eventually, Wrecker set Omega and Tech on the ground, with Tech having to grip his brother’s arm to keep himself upright. Wrecker looked concerningly at Tech, as the former placed a gentle hand over the latter’s grip.

“Omega.” She hummed at the sound of her name. “Could you please grab my cane for me?”

She cocked her head until she turned to where he was pointing and found the cane on the ground next to the ramp. She hopped off the ramp and grabbed it, handing it to Tech. He thanked her as he let go of Wrecker and walked the rest of the way down the ramp. While Tech appreciated Wrecker's concern as he hovered close, Tech knew it was unnecessary. He has used a cane for almost a year now. As long as he took plenty of breaks, he would be just fine.

When Tech reached the others, Phee gave him a teary smile, while Hunter and Crosshair still stood in shock. Although Hunter seemed to recover more quickly as he pulled Tech close. Hunter placed a hand on Tech’s head and another on his neck, fingers immediately finding the pulse.

“I should have gone back,” Hunter whispered into Tech's hair, “I abandoned you.”

“You could not have known I survived,” Tech argued, “I also found myself quite surprised when I discovered I did not in fact die.”

“How did you? Survive, I mean.”

“That is a question that can wait,” Tech said as he pulled away from Hunter and turned to Crosshair. He had yet to utter a single word. His hands were clutching his rifle tightly, staring at Tech as if he were a ghost. Tech doesn’t blame him. He could almost say the same for Crosshair. It had been so long since Tech had last seen his brother. When Tech fell, one of his biggest regrets was that he would never see Crosshair again. But now he was here. They both were and neither of them had moved nor spoken a word. To be quite honest, Tech was tired of all the dramatics, not to mention his brothers’ apologies.

“If you aren’t going to say anything, then I will.” Tech paused for a moment before continuing, “Very well. Firstly, only because I have heard enough of it from Wrecker and Hunter, whatever reason you're sorry for, I forgive you and I do not blame you. Secondly, I do not regret what I did and I would do it again- oh!”

Crosshair shoved the rifle away and yanked Tech close, the former’s arms pulling the latter tight. Because he was startled by the sudden movement, Tech once again dropped his cane, but he didn’t care as he wrapped his arms around his brother. Crosshair immediately buried his face in the crook of Tech’s neck and breathed in deeply.

“If you ever try to pull a Plan 99 again,” Crosshair mumbled, “I’ll shoot you myself.”

“Only if you promise to never leave us again.”

Crosshair laughed wetly. “Deal.”

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

After a very tearful reunion, his brothers and sister took him to their home where Tech was allowed to rest his legs. Hunter insisted on hearing Tech’s story first before the others told theirs. Tech suspected that theirs was far more exciting than his, but he humored them anyway. It wasn’t a very long story either. He was rescued and taken in by a local who, with the help of a doctor, helped Tech to walk again. Not wanting to put his family in danger, he repaired various items in exchange for credits, which were later used to purchase a ship and fly here.

“I will admit,” Tech began, “I was quite worried that the Empire had taken over when that other ship hailed me. Although I suppose I should have known it wasn’t an Imperial standard ship, but seeing as I was distracted by worry, you’ll have to forgive me.”

“To be honest,” Hunter chuckled softly, “You weren’t too far off.”

With that, they explained how shortly after they lost Tech, the Empire had taken Omega. Hunter and Wrecker crossed the galaxy five times looking for her, but she, along with Crosshair, found them first. All was well for a short while until the Empire came to Pabu and took Omega once more. Hunter, Crosshair, Wrecker, and Echo had found Tantiss and went in with no backup. When Omega explained how Hemlock was defeated, it was then revealed to Tech that Crosshair had lost his hand. Tech wanted to hit himself for not noticing how Crosshair seemed to be wearing gloves in Pabu’s warm climate. Instead, Tech reached for his brother’s hand, grabbed it, and gave it a tight squeeze, which Crosshair returned.

Later that evening, Shep decided to throw a party in Tech’s honor. Thankfully it was not a large party; mostly Tech’s family and a sprinkling of others, such as the clone cadets that Wrecker and Hunter rescued. Mox reminded Tech of Hunter in some ways, while Stak resembled Crosshair in other ways. Deke, on the other hand, reminded Tech of both himself and Wrecker. The cadet was kind and sociable like Wrecker, but Deke seemed to have an affinity for technology like Tech. They currently lived with one of Pabu’s older residents after Hunter and Wrecker brought them to the island.

As the evening drifted on, Tech found himself stepping away from the party, if only to give his legs a rest. Omega had been helping him make introductory rounds to some of the clones they rescued as well as a few of the children that she was held captive with. While most of them were polite and just said hello, some of them wanted to stand and talk with Tech. This of course led to his legs causing him a great deal of pain, so he excused himself to find some place quiet to sit. That is how he found himself inside Shep’s home sitting in one of the chairs in the living space.

“Not much of a party kind of guy huh?”

Tech turned in his chair to find Phee casually approaching him like he hadn’t seemingly come back from the dead. After his family decided to go back to their home, she had left them, declaring she would let them catch up. Tech tried not to be disappointed and respect her decision, but he wished he could have talked to her as well. There was much he wanted to say.

“Normally no,” Tech replied as he subconsciously rubbed his legs. Phee’s eyes drifted to the movement, then to his cane that was leaning against the arm of the chair. “But this one is quite alright, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Phee chuckled, “Shep originally wanted to invite the whole island, especially since you helped with the sea surge. But I managed to talk him down into doing a smaller party.”

“Then I must thank you.”

Phee waved him off as she sat on the couch that was placed vertically to Tech’s chair. If one were to walk in, they would assume the quiet was a comfortable one, but in actuality, there were many things Tech wanted to say but didn’t know where to start. Thankfully, Phee seemed to know exactly where she wanted to start.

“Can I ask you something that’s been bugging me?” Tech nodded. “Why’d you choose my name?”

“Well, I suppose there are a multitude of reasons as to why I picked your name. Namely, it was the first one that came to mind that did not have a known association with clones.”

“What makes you think I’m not popular?” Phee teased, a mischievous grin that did not meet her eyes graced her lips.

“When meeting people, I sometimes researched them, so that I may prepare my family for what kind of person whoever we were meeting could be. I did the same when we first met but only found a birth record.”

Her grin turned into a sad smile as she nodded.

“Yeah that sounds about right,” she said.

Tech decided he did not like the look of sadness on her. It did not align with the woman he knew, who was full of life and adventure.

“Another reason,” he began again as he looked away from her, “I suppose I chose it, was because of the feelings I held toward you. Still do in fact.”

“Yeah?” her voice was coated in teasing, “Did ya think about me a lot?”

“Yes. I thought of everyone, every day. Though most of my thoughts were of my family and you. It took me far too long to return to you all and I do not wish to repeat the experience.”

When he looked back, tears had formed in her eyes and Tech began to panic. He said something wrong didn’t he? Why did he think it would be simple? They had not seen each other in almost a year. Technically to her, he was dead until today. She understandably would have moved on.

“Kriff,” she whispered, bringing his focus back to the present, where he saw her rub her eyes, “You can’t just go around sayin’ things like that, Brown Eyes. Makes me want to kiss ya.”

Tech felt heat quickly warm his face and ears. Ah. He seemed to have misread the situation. This improved things slightly. Before this could continue further, he needed to be closer. So with his cane, he pulled himself up out of the chair, slowly shuffled to the couch, and sat next to Phee. She had briefly held her hands out to catch him, but he assured her he was fine. Once seated, he made sure to rest his cane against the couch so it would not fall, then angled himself toward Phee. She was still attempting to dry her eyes, so he gently grabbed both her hands and held them in his.

“Earlier today,” He began softly, “we did not have the chance to converse as I had wanted. I wish to apologize for how I left things between us. I was and still am, new to the idea of someone besides my family caring about my well-being. I calculated that that mission would be dangerous and there were no guarantees of our survival. You of all people deserved to have known that.”

“I will admit I was not a pretty sight for the first few days after your brothers came back,” Phee said, “I had never shown Pabu to anyone else before. I knew you and your family deserved a shot at normal life. The time we spent together before you left made me hope that I could be included in that life. I had never cared for someone that much since my sister, Shep, and Lyana.”

“Do you still care for me? In that way I mean.”

Phee pulled her hand from his grip and cupped his face. Tears once again began to well up in her eyes, but this time there was a genuine smile on her face. “Yes,” she whispered.

“I care for you as well,” he replied. Then Tech placed his hand over hers and turned to kiss her palm.

“If you’re going to kiss me, at least do it right.”

“Very well,” he whispered as he brought his hand to the back of her neck and pulled her close. Their lips met for a moment, but it felt like an eternity to Tech. Her lips were soft, warm, and perfect in every way possible. When she pulled away, he tried not to visibly frown as he missed her warmth. He did not succeed, as she took one look at him, smiled, and kissed him again.

“Tech!” Wrecker called, “Come back outside! We’re about to make a toast!”

Reluctantly, Tech and Phee pulled apart, with Tech visibly frowning which caused Phee to laugh and drop her head to his shoulder.

“If it’s my party, I should get to do whatever I please,” he huffed. Phee just laughed as she pulled away from him and stood up, offering him a hand. He took it and she helped him up while she reached across for his cane to hand to him.

“They mean well,” Phee defended half-heartedly, “Come on. It would be rude to keep them waiting.”

He offered her his arm, which she gladly accepted, as they walked back outside to all their loved ones. Everyone had a drink in their hands, non-alcoholic ones for the children and those who did not want alcohol. Tech unfortunately had to release Phee’s arm in order to take the drink offered to him. Shep smiled then raised his glass and toasted, “To coming home!”

Yes. Tech was finally home.

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naffeclipse · 7 months

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If I recall u mentioned in one drabble that sun used his venom to help y/n. But what if an Eclipse used theirs to control or capture y/n?.

Oh, baby, that's a dangerous combo!

DE naga Eclipse has a paralytic venom called myotoxic which results in severe and instant muscular paralysis. If he bit you, you would become paralyzed but remain conscious. He could take you without a struggle but Eclipse wants you to be obedient to his whims, so he would use this only as a last resort—if you really needed to be taught your lesson (or he wanted to smuggle you away quickly and quietly).

Blackwater Lure Eclipse has no venom but he does possess a hypnotic gaze. He uses his magic when he pleases to calm you down or draw you a little closer. He can control you with his hypnotic gaze, but he's usually content to be with you—no charming suggestions required.

Cryptid Sightings naga Eclipse can sense your heartbeat when he flicks the air with his tongue, and he can especially sense it when you're in his coils for cuddles or taking a break from your work. It's a way for him to measure your fright levels and adjust accordingly. He can seek you out using this sense, and he will often see if you're safe or if you want to spend some time with him.

SJ naga Eclipse and Bounty Hunter naga Eclipse both have venom that would kill you if they bit you. Hemotoxicity is painful and devasting as it causes massive internal bleeding. SJ naga Clip doesn't mind threatening you with his venom at his pleasure, promising that if you don't stop fighting him, he'll make you stop fighting period.

BH naga Eclipse is aware of his venom but doesn't threaten you with it. He tries to not bring his fangs too close to you but he still feels that urge to bite and catch you, so you will catch a glimpse of venom filling his mouth, but he turns away to spit out just before getting too close to you.

#the serpent den #boy oh boy a forest full of deadly nagas oh my

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skeleton-mischief · 3 months

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always have been a big fan when people write the reader as something else instead of a human, like an avian or a ghost.

can we get a siren reader? Like perhaps the skele’s house is near a huge lake or ocean and one day they hear a sirens song in the distance (Please add killer sans, he’s my bbg)

OOOOH I LOVE WHEN THEY DO THAT TOO!! I imagined Killer being with a Ghost reader because I'm honestly just a sucker for that vibe. However!!! Per request I shall indeed write a siren reader x killer just for you with the sweet treat of it being a pirate version 🫶

Please enjoy my awful attempt at it :-)

CW: a storm causes him to nearly drown, so I just wanted to give a heads up

It's terrible and quite embarrassing, honestly. He lives in the middle of the damn ocean yet he never learned how to swim? Killer knows how stupid it sounds, but acknowledging it while drowning makes him feel even worse.

A storm, quick and sudden ravaged the ship as waves crashed against the deck and licked at the edges like a hungry beast. The others had attempted to control the ship while others had gone inside to hide from the rain and sea, but he just had to go and attempt to save one of his fellow crew mates. He has always sworn up and down that he doesn't care for the others, too apathetic for their feelings and too careless for consideration. And yet, there he went, proving the others and even himself wrong.

He had just managed to haul them up from the side, pulling his weight in order to sloppily yank them back on board. Of course though, the sea demanded a meal, lapping it's cold and harsh tongue against the rim and pulling him backwards as the ship swayed to the side. He barely had time to take a breath, squeezing his eye sockets shut as his weight was yanked from beneath him.

If he managed to survive this, which was unlikely, of course, then he would never hear the end of it. Hah, he had to admit that sounded much better than this though...

His ability to hear anything up above was severed as soon as his body started to sink, black ink pooling from his eyes as his sockets burned with involuntary tears. He did his best to look up, the dark blue and green waves swishing his body like he was going to be nothing but backwash. He could feel his chest tightening with a desire to breathe, but he knew better than to gasp for air. He did, yes, but his body still caused him to almost involuntarily inhale sharply as salty and disgusting sea water filled his mouth.

He hacked back coughing, and only then did he start to struggle as he could see through the dark current that his eyelight was glowing as he was bombarded with panic. He thrashed and kicked, screaming as he didn't know what else to do other than exhaust his own body like a fool. That's what he was best known to be, after all, a fucking fool.

If he had bothered to look anywhere other than up, maybe down perhaps, then he would've seen the glowing eyes watching him with outstretched claws. But alas, the waves tired his body out twice as quickly since he had already swallowed down so much water, and his consciousness was climbing desperately to remain. Kick your legs forward, push your body beneath your hands, use the tides to your advantage to go up for air, do somethi-!

.....

______________________________________________

He wasn't conscious for long, a ragdoll tugged down by those clawed hands just as quickly as his consciousness was swept away and the ink from his eyes blurred his face like watercolor too wet until the paper tore from below.

You, of course, watched the ordeal and witnessed it without much thought. This happens often, you thought, but never before have you seen a living skeleton. How fascinating! His body worked similar to a human too, how peculiar. Sadly, he was about to flat out die from drowning by the time your arms pulled his body close.

You let out a low, clicking sound as one of your clawed fingers traced an outline along the corner of his socket and down his cheek. What a strange creature, oozing with ink that reminded you of a squid when he was a skeleton. Then again, seeing such odd things always piqued your curiosity. You didn't want him to die.

A small hum escaped you as you aggressively dug your hand into your satchel that you always carried with you. Pulling a small, blue pearl like orb between your fingers, you shoved it down unceremoniously down his jaw, thumb pressing it down to pop it inside and promptly shutting his mouth shut to keep the substance down. Sure this was less elegant than you would've preferred, but if you didn't act quickly he'd genuinely drown.

You heard the sounds of sparkling inside of him and with a satisfied coo, you wrapped your arms around his chest and pushed hard into his bones until you saw his eye sockets shoot open and cough out water. He seemed to still be disoriented, but now he had that water out of his system thankfully. You kept him wrapped up in your arms as you swam with ease, diving down low as you saw his consciousness blinking in and out with his eye lights.

They were pretty, bright....

Dismissing that, you decided that you like this strange skeleton enough to keep him, so you would wait until the waves calmed down before putting him back up. You only had a limited amount of pearls, after all. However, this was going to be a struggle by how his eyes happened to find yours before shrinking. Quick, maybe a smile will help?

______________________________________________

What is the strange taste in his mouth? Why is he awake? What has a hold of him? Oh my stars it's fucking huge! Oh it's genuinely so big and long this isn't a shark or a fish??? And and and it has an upper body of a human-esque figure and oh they're kind of pretty and scary with such bright and glowing eyes despite the sharp teeth and wait actually it's still terrifying just fucking great. He's struggling and the creature won't let go and it's dragging him somewhere oh stars it just bared its teeth at him-! There goes his consciousness again.

______________________________________________

By the time he woke up again, he felt something heavy laying on top of him. He felt sand beneath his bones as it irritably found its way into the cracks of his bones and he had to blink away the blue of his vision as he saw that the sun was just barely rising along the ocean waves. It must be dawn, he concluded dumbly, or maybe sunset? He can't tell.

What he can tell, however, is that the weight on his body has shifted and he's now face to face with....oh.

You were...scary. Kind of?

What lay on top of him was a curled up sea creature lazily draped over his body, large and strong. Tied to an upper body that resembled almost a humanoid figure was a long, thick tail as it flicked partially in the water as the tides rose and fell along the beach line.

Your flesh wasn't made of scales, per say, and by the coloring he could see how it blended right into your upper body. Dark hues of blue with a hint of green undertones blended together to a sort of tabby style of pattern down the center of your tail. Your hands looked to be dipped in the same gradient with their own webbing and fins along your elbows, and as he looked at you, those same hands seemed to be caressing his cheek as your eyes watched the glow of his soul that promptly seemed to be unsteady as it visibly trembled on his chest.

A siren.

He stared at you, saw your pupils dilating as you made a low, repetitive trill. You haven't eaten him yet, and you seemed happy to see that he was awake. Where was he?? Why haven't you killed him?? Where was his crew? Your jaw opened to show sharpened teeth, but what came out was what resembled a melodic chime of....delight?

He couldn't understand you, and as he sat up, your body slowly moved back along the water as you dipped down for what he assumed was some air before you rose back up, splashing some water over your tail and upper body. You pointed to him before chirping again, but he could only cock his head to the side.

"H-haaah-....I'm sorry, I can't understand you. Did you....save me?" It couldn't hurt for him to try and speak to you, sirens could understand the common language, right? You seemed to perk up at his words, a gambled sound of speech blurting out of you. He winced at the sound, which only made you falter. "Ah-...sorry, I didn't mean to offend you by that." He was quick to apologize, a smile plastered on his face as he tried to save face. He didn't want to offend his savior, especially if you were capable of eating him.

"Y-yEs." You tried again. Better. Okay! Okay he was getting somewhere! "Do you know what happened to my ship??" "F- F-...LoaT." "Float? So they're okay?" You nodded your head, grinning widely. He promptly fell back on the sand in relief, sighing as he grasped his chest. "Okay....oh thank the stars..."

He laughed, and he didn't particularly understand why. Maybe he was relieved to the point of laughter, even if he already wanted to know how he could get back to them. But right now, he felt exhausted. Maybe though, maybe you would help him get back? Unless you intended to keep him, which wasn't ideal. Killing him would just suck, and killing you would leave him stranded and alone. He could think about that later though. He was a guy that needed a break from too much stress, even now in such a serious situation.

Never the less, he felt your hand resting on his arm as you hesitantly cooed at him, tilting your head at him curiously. He looked at you again, then back down at his soaked and torn attire. His white blouse was torn, pulled out from his black silk pants and one of his leather boots missing. His sword was gone too, which sucked tremendously. Any jewels he wore must be gone somewhere deep in the blue sea, and all that really remained somehow was the ring he wore on his phalanges. Thank the stars for that.

It was a custom ring that glinted bright, a sigil decorated by the captain himself. If he were to lose that? Well...he doesn't want to think about that. He felt a tugging on his shirt, flinching slightly with a wavering smile when he turned his head to the side. You were staring at him, faces near inches away from his own. He tried not to freak out, but instead he just adjusted his head back a little with a small laugh.

"What?"

You just stared, not saying anything, before you smiled. "...hAppy?" "Happy? Am I happy?" You nodded your head. "Well, I guess...I want to go back home to the others though; back to my crew, y'know?" He answered honestly, rolling his sleeves up as he rolled over on his side before rubbing his skull. You offered a reassuring pay on his back, running your fingers along his spine as you nodded your head. Maybe you would help him? "Let's not think about that now! Actually...let me check somethin'...."

Without looking at you, he patted himself down, trying to check if he had lost anything else. Maybe his sword was gone, but what about-.... "Ah- Hahaha-! Yes!" He cursed, cackling, before abruptly jerking his head towards you. He saw your confusion, but he simply grinned even wider, pulling the very small and intricate blade from his tucked in and hidden pocket. Hey, you never know when you need an extra blade, right?

"I found my knife," He promptly stated, proud of himself for keeping something he liked so much. You sort of just- blinked at him. However, you offered a confused, sort of disoriented sound of acknowledgement, so that was something.

He looked around his surroundings once more, and with great effort, he stood up finally. You stared up at him, your tail flicking once more. He, openly deciding to ignore his problems, finally clapped his hands together and spoke with confidence. "Why don't we get something to eat, hm? Does that sound good to you, pearl?"

______________________________________________

Closing Notes: I've been busy with stuff and I kinda didn't know how to end things, so I apologize if it's kinda bland or at least notttt my best writing. I hope you enjoyed it @alexsorsis 🫶

#undertale au #alternate universe #x reader #siren reader #killer serrif #killer sans #pirate killer sans #cw almost drowing

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shxtodxroki · 1 year

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𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜

Send me the name of your favorite character and I’ll write a drabble for them! :)

“Y/nnn…” You hear a voice whine from behind you, though you resolve to pay it no mind, remaining focused on the laptop screen in front of you as you attempted to find the right way to word the conclusion to your essay. Though of course, your needy boyfriend would not be ignored so easily, proving as much with another, louder whine of your name as he tried to pry your eyes away from your computer screen.

“Y/nnnnn…. My angel…” You could practically hear the pout on your boyfriend’s face as he pleaded for your attention, though you continued to ignore him in favor of finishing the essay in front of him, knowing that the moment you gave him even a crumb of attention he’d take it as his cue to be all over you. You simply couldn’t afford to be distracted until this essay was finished, a fact you had reiterated several times to your boyfriend when he begged to come over to your place with you after school. He had agreed to give you time to finish it at the time, though it was clear that he was struggling to stick to his promise as he pouted and yearned for you to show him some affection.

“....You hate me.”

“Tooru, I need to focus because if I get a bad grade on this essay, my parents won’t let me go see your next game.” You grumble out exasperatedly, silencing your pouty boyfriend with your reasoning. “And then you’d really be miserable, so I suggest you let me finish this.”

“But baaaabe!” Tooru finally whined out, already recovered from the fear of not having his wonderful s/o cheering for him front and center at his next game, knowing deep within himself that there's no way you'd actually do poorly on this essay and miss any of his games. “You’ve been working on it all night, you’ve barely even looked at me!” You hear him move off of your bed as he says this, coming up behind you and leaning down to worm his hands around both the office chair you’re sitting on and your waist. “You know I need your attention to live, it’s just cruel to deprive me for this long.”

“You’re so dramatic, you big baby.” You retort, though you let your clingy boyfriend hold you from behind as you feel his eyes scanning over the portion of your essay that’s currently displayed on your screen, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious as he analyzes your work. “Besides, I just have to finish the conclusion, and then I’m all yours.”

Tooru sighs exaggeratedly once more at that, removing his hands from your waist as he moves to stand in front of you, blocking your computer screen from your view. “Come on baby, can’t you just rewrite whatever you already said and call it good? I’m sure your essay is good enough to stand on its own.” He tries to persuade you, and you allow him to take your non-dominant hand and thread your fingers through his as you gently nudge him aside enough for you to see your screen once more.

“Babe, just give me five more minutes and I’ll be done, I already know what I want to say. I just have to figure out how to word it.” You see the pout forming on your boyfriend’s face out of the corner of your eye and gently squeeze his hand in yours as you use your other hand to type. “And then we can cuddle, and you can be the little spoon since I made you wait all day for cuddles.”

Tooru’s eyes immediately light up at that offer, and suddenly he’s content to stand beside you and watch as you finish writing the last few sentences of your essay, mindlessly playing with your interlaced fingers as the sound of your keyboard clicking fills the room. As soon as you’ve written the final sentence of your paper and spell-checked it, you close your laptop and open your arms for your endearingly clingy boyfriend to melt into, allowing him to drag you over to your bed and manually wrap your arms around him from behind as you gently kiss along his back, finally giving your boyfriend the attention and love he’s been craving all day.

Request - @jaiistg said: OIKAWA TORUU :D!

A/N: Hi y’all, sorry I haven’t been posting very much lately, I’ve had a lot going on as I prepare for college lol but I hope you guys enjoy this cute little drabble! I always love writing drabbles for characters lol so pls feel free to send in your fav’s name if you want and I’ll write one for them, and if you have any other requests then feel free to send those in as well and I’ll get them added to my request list ASAP! :D

Taglist: @tsukkisukkii @awkwardaardvarkforever

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

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yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt · 1 year

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I don't think people talk enough about how many head injuries Ballister experiences throughout the duration of that film (which without the timeskips takes place over like... A week???)

He gets railed in the face with debris so hard that it knocks him unconscious for several HOURS during which (per Nimona, who may have been joking tbf) he hits his head numerous times on curbs

He headbutts a knight who is wearing a HELMET hard enough to knock him unconscious or at least daze him, which couldn't have left Ballister completely unscathed

AND he presumably gets hit in the face/head a few times when being beat up by Todd because we can see bruises and marks around his face and he seems to be struggling to remain conscious

Any head trauma (especially one severe enough to knock a person out) can cause serious, long-lasting problems. Repeated head trauma in a short span of time is known to cause even more severe and enduring problems. Seizures, memory problems, balance issues, emotional dysregulation, vision problems, just to name a few (and depending on what part of the brain sustained the most damage)

Anyway what I'm saying is Ballister probably walked away with even more permanent damage than just the severed arm and the substantial psychological trauma.

And also Nimona probably felt extreme guilt because she just forgot how fragile humans were when she let him hit his head when she dragged him home even though that's probably not what caused most of the issues

What I'm also saying is I might be making an AO3 account (I'm late as hell to the party I know) to explore this and some of the other headcanons I've made (re: the Ambrosius beat up Todd post)

Edit: I'm just waiting on the Ao3 Invite (I was not aware of that rule and in classic Me Fashion decided I wasn't even going to attempt to make an account until my fic was already completely completed :,) so I am just sitting on the finished piece for the next 3 weeks

#I can imagine Nimona freaking out and panicking #when he collapses or has a seizure or something #and Ambrosius trying to tell her its not her fault while taking care of Bal #Amb feeling so much rage and guilt because he didn't just cut off his arm #and traumatize him #but unwittingly led Todd right to him #Ive got... so many feelings..#nimona #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin #seizure mention #head trauma mention #todd sureblade

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eksvaized · 7 months

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Part Twelve [ Previous 〡 Next ] taglist: @kingsprettyangel, @simonsslvt if you want to be added - let me know!

Hugging your knees tightly to your chest in an attempt to find comfort, your eyes track Simon’s every move. He begins to clean up the remnants of the meal that you had just forced yourself to eat. His hands collect the empty plates, glass and the gleaming silverware, arranging everything back onto the tray.

You regret making yourself to eat; it was a bad idea. It’s left you with a nauseating sensation, a feeling that gnaws at your insides, making you wish you could reverse time. It’s as if the food you swallowed is stuck in your throat, stubbornly refusing to descend further, causing an uncomfortable lump that’s hard to ignore.

However, despite the discomfort, you are aware that you really had no other choice in the matter. The idea of Simon spoon-feeding you was a far worse alternative that made your skin crawl. It was obvious he wasn’t joking when he threatened to do so. The seriousness in his eyes had told you that much. Therefore, you made a conscious effort to finish every last bite, not leaving a single morsel behind.

His lips part and close several times in quick succession, as if he’s wrestling with a sea of words that refuses to form into coherent sentences. You can tell from his tense demeanor that he wants to say something. But no sounds manage to escape from his slightly parted lips. The silence stretches between you, heavy and thick. Finally, with a look of resolve etched across his face, he breaks it. “Come downstairs with me.” His voice is softer than you expected, and there’s an underlying hint of urgency in his tone. Without waiting for a response, he stands up, his silhouette disappearing as he steps out of the bedroom.

A wave of doubt suddenly washes over you, leaving you questioning. Did your ears deceive you, or did you indeed hear him correctly? And even more importantly, do you want to follow him? The events of yesterday still linger in your mind, fresh and raw like an open wound, making you yearn for as much distance between the two of you as possible.

In an ideal world where you had more control over the situation, you’d bolt the door and keep him firmly on the other side, out of your room. But the reality is far from ideal. There’s no lock on the door—an unfortunate fact that leaves you feeling vulnerable. And even if there were a lock, would it really deter him? You doubt it. He has shown his determination before and you are certain he’d break through the door without a moment’s hesitation.

You remain seated on the very edge of the bed, struggling to coax your body into action. It’s as if an invisible anchor is holding you down. Your limbs are heavy and unresponsive, refusing to cooperate with your mind’s commands.

In the unforgiving darkness of the previous night, you found yourself drowning in a turbulent sea of blame and sharp accusations, the waves of which relentlessly crashed upon Simon. He was, in your view, entirely out of line; he had absolutely no right to lay his hands on you. He had no place, no authority, to slip his fingers between your thighs, to touch the softness of your skin, and to caress it with such familiarity.

But as the cold, harsh light of day broke, following the dawn’s first rays piercing the darkness, you had time to reflect. It was during this period of quiet contemplation that you arrived at a startling realization. Simon, you concluded with a sense of surprise, was not the one to point your finger at, not the one to shoulder the blame. His actions, as intrusive and invasive as they may have felt, were simply a mirror reflecting his very character, his essence. It was nothing less than what you could expect from someone like him.

Yet, what truly shook you to your core, what truly unsettled the very foundations of your understanding, was not Simon’s actions, but your own response—or rather, the startling lack of it. There was no resistance from your side, no confrontational push to maintain your personal space. Even though you knew, in the deepest recesses of your heart, that you could never force Simon to step back, to retract his invading hands and let you be, you didn’t even make an attempt. This realization, this perceived failure to assert your personal boundaries, finds its way to haunt you, nagging at your peace of mind.

It sits within the confines of your mind, a constant, unrelenting source of torment, a ghost of a memory refusing to fade. You don’t want to submit to Simon, to give him the impression that his actions are somehow becoming acceptable to you; it’s a battle you’re not willing to lose.

Balancing on the edge of the towering staircase, the rhythmic echo of Simon’s relentless pacing in the living room permeates the air, reaching your ears with an intensity that’s impossible to ignore. You are ensnared by a creeping, persistent thought that gnaws at the edges of your consciousness: could this all be some kind of elaborate test? He had made his stance known, drawing a firm and immovable line in the sand by stating that the downstairs area was strictly off-limits, a forbidden territory you were not to encroach upon. Yet yesterday you dared to breach that seemingly impenetrable rule.

Now, as you stand on the precipice of a potential transgression again, you can’t help but wonder: is this a deliberate test of your obedience, a cunning trap laid out to mislead you? What if you fail it? Could the punishment be as severe as banishment back to the dreary confines of the basement? As these thoughts spiral, you try with all your might to quell the rising tide of fear that threatens to engulf you. No—you give your head a firm, determined shake in a resolute attempt to dislodge these insidious thoughts that threaten to overtake you. After all, he had explicitly asked you to follow him. Surely, he wouldn’t react with anger or retribution if you were simply complying with his request.

As you approach the base of the staircase, your heart pounds in your chest. Each step you take on your ascent feels like a leap of faith. The worn wooden planks creak under your weight. The staircase seems to stretch endlessly downwards, leading you into the unsettling silence of the living room.

Once you step through the doorway, you look at the tall, imposing glass door. It is left slightly ajar. A gentle, warm breeze finds its way inside through the small opening. It’s a stark contrast to the chilling atmosphere that has settled within the room. The grey curtains billow and dance in the flow of the wind, their movements almost ghostly.

The room is filled with the scent of fresh grass and earth, a testament to the recent rain. The smell is so potent that it prompts you to take a deep, involuntary breath. As you inhale, the distinct aroma fills your nostrils, transporting you momentarily to a different place. Somewhere far away from here.

Suddenly, you feel your back stiffen, a sense of dread washing over you like a wave. Every instinct in your body screams at you to flee, to escape. But the memory of your last failed attempt to do so, the scars still fresh, shackles you in place. You are left frozen, like a deer in headlights, trapped between the desire to run and the fear of what will happen if you do.

In the corner of your eye, you see Simon. He turns his head, his gaze flitting over his shoulder before he leisurely strolls around the plush couch. He comes to an abrupt halt in front of you, his imposing figure casting a shadow over your hunched frame. Feeling the weight of his stare, you divert your gaze and fixate on the familiar pattern of the floor tiles.

“You could use some fresh air,” he begins, the suggestion hanging in the air between you. The idea doesn’t appeal to you, but you remain rooted to your spot, not expressing your distaste openly. “I thought we could enjoy the morning, swim in the pool and lounge in the backyard before we sit down for lunch.”

In all honesty, the thought of swimming doesn’t appeal to you in the slightest, and spending time with him is the last thing you want to do. As the days passed, you found yourself growing increasingly comfortable in the solitary confines of your bedroom, a place where you could enjoy the blissful silence and a peace that seemed to elude you elsewhere. However, you’re acutely aware of the repercussions that would follow if you were to voice your dissatisfaction. Thus, you choke back any form of protest that attempts to claw its way past your lips.

Simon, likely mistaking your silence for acceptance, reaches out to take your hand. His fingers weave through yours in an intimate gesture that you find anything but. His touch is far from welcome. It’s a sensation that makes your skin prickle with unease. But, you manage to suppress the instinctual grimace that threatens to twist your features. With a resigned sigh, you let him guide you outside, towards the glaring sunlight.

Underneath the blazing, scorching sun, which seems to be at its zenith, you stand at the edge of a pool. The water appears to shimmer and twinkle under the harsh sunlight, a sight that momentarily distracts you. Not too far from you, Simon, who appears to be quite unfazed by the oppressive heat, begins to methodically peel off his clothes. He discards his shirt and shorts without a second thought, leaving them forgotten on the hot concrete.

As his bare skin comes into view, your eyes involuntarily scan his body. Numerous scars, ranging from faint white lines to deep, jagged grooves, mar his otherwise perfect flesh. These unexpected imperfections serve as a stark contrast to his sculpted and toned physique.

He catches your gaze, his sharp eyes locking onto yours. A faint, knowing smile plays on his lips, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

There is a fleeting moment of dread, an anticipation that he might order you to undress and join him in the pool. However, he simply plunges into the pristine, crystal clear water. The resultant splash douses you, leaving your clothes damp, and you remain standing at the edge. You watch as he swims. His skin glistens like polished amber under the sun’s golden rays.

For a while, the world outside this moment ceases to exist. The stillness that stretches out is a bubble, encapsulating this moment, setting it apart from the rest of the day. But eventually, the scorching heat of the day and the fatigue in your legs convince you to take a seat on the cool edge of the pool. You carefully roll up your leggings, the material rough against your skin, before dipping your feet into the refreshing coolness of the water, a welcome escape from the relentless, arid heat.

“You should really consider getting into the water,” he suggests, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves as he swims in your direction. The water’s surface breaks as he pulls himself out, beads of water making his skin glisten under the sunlight. He stands up, his hands finding their way to either side of your thighs, entrapping you. His proximity is undeniable, and when you instinctively raise your chin, you find your face just mere inches away from his, his breath warm against your cheeks.

You shake your head, to which he responds with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, his patience clearly tested. His fingers twitch subtly against before he tugs at the hem of your shirt. A playful smirk lights up his features as he says, “This looks significantly better on you than it does on me.”

You feel the urge to protest, to clarify that you found the shirt in the wardrobe in your room and that it doesn’t belong to him, but the confident smirk on his face tells you otherwise. So you just press your lips into a tight line, deciding not to engage in a fruitless argument.

“If I swim for a while, can I go back to my room afterwards?” You ask, feeling the need to negotiate. You’ve come to realise that the only way to escape from Simon and his imposing presence is to strike a deal with him. He ponders over your words for a moment, his gaze turning thoughtful. But then he nods, swimming away from you to give you some space to undress.

When you are left standing with nothing but your panties and bra, you cautiously tiptoe over the warm concrete, drawn to the edge of the seemingly inviting water. You pause to survey the pool. Its calm surface twinkles in the sunlight, making you unaware of the icy coldness lurking beneath. And so, instead of cautiously testing the water with a toe or two, you decide to embrace spontaneity and jump in.

Unfortunately, this impulsive decision proves to be a regrettable one. As you plunge into the water, the shock of the cold hits you with an intensity that leaves you gasping, like a formidable punch that steals your breath away. The water’s chilling embrace is far more potent than you had anticipated. Moreover, the pool’s depth, deceivingly hidden beneath the placid surface, catches you off guard, adding to the shock of the cold.

Once you are fully immersed beneath the surface, a profound and unsettling sense of disorientation immediately engulfs you. The surface, which was once just inches above your head, now suddenly seems to be miles away, a far-off mirage in the distance. At first, you try to swim upwards with a calm and measured rhythm, maintaining a steady cadence with your arms and legs. However, instead of getting closer, the surface appears to be receding, moving farther and farther away. That’s when the first seeds of panic start to sprout within you.

In your mounting desperation, you kick your legs and thrash your arms about, your movements becoming wild, frantic, and uncontrolled. You manage to keep your mouth tightly shut, consciously resisting the instinctive and primal urge to draw in a much-needed breath of air. But then, in a moment of sheer panic, your lips part involuntarily, and you take in a large gulp of salty water. You can feel it filling your lungs, adding to your weight and pulling you down even more, further into the abyss.

Simon’s fingers wrap around your shoulder. He tugs you up, his hand finding a secure place under the curve of your arm to hoist you up. As your head breaks the surface of the water, you are hit with a rush of fresh air that sends you into a fit of coughing. The coughing is violent and uncontrollable, each breath seeming to tear at your lungs like a wild animal clawing its way out. Meanwhile, he continues to hold you tightly in his arms, a look of deep concern engraved on his face, until your coughing subsides and you begin to breathe more normally.

Once the initial shock diminishes and your heart ceases its frantic pounding against your ribcage, you become acutely aware of your surroundings. You realize that you’re holding onto Simon with a vice-like grip. Your fingers dig into the firm muscles of his shoulder, your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso. You can feel the rough texture of his skin against your fingertips. Your back stiffens in surprise. You want to push him away, to tell him to get his grimy hands off of you, but you can’t. He had just saved you from drowning, so you decide to let him enjoy this. But just for a moment. Then, you slowly wiggle out of his arms, reestablishing your personal space.

“Thank you,” you utter, once you’ve found your footing at the shallow end of the pool where your feet can actually touch the ground.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks, his voice interwoven with genuine concern. He bridges the gap between the two of you, drawing closer once again. In response, you offer a single, convincing nod, your fingers weaving through your drenched hair, pushing it out of your face.

Both you and Simon spend a good amount of time in the pool. The water is soothing, the warmth of the sun on your skin is comforting, and for a moment, you appreciate the tranquility of simply floating around. As time passes, Simon decides to get out of the pool. He perches himself on the ledge, his eyes fixed on you. His gaze is intense, almost piercing, but you try your best to ignore it, acting like you don’t see him staring at your chest.

Being outside under the bright sun, with the water gently lapping at your skin, makes for a surprisingly peaceful experience, and it’s precisely what you need to clear your thoughts. For a moment, as you lay on your back with your eyes closed, you are able to forget about the fact that you’re under the constant surveillance, that you are living with your kidnapper and that you miss your life, your home, your privacy.

When you finally open your eyes, you notice that Simon has left his spot on the ledge. He’s no longer by the pool. You haul yourself out of the water and look around, trying to find him. You spot him through a window; he’s busy doing something in the kitchen. As your gaze moves away from him, it lands on the towering fence that marks the boundaries of your limited freedom. You contemplate the idea of running away. Simon is distracted, and you’re alone. Maybe this time, you could successfully make it over the fence. But as the thought takes root, you stop dead in your tracks.

You are in underwear only, soaking wet. Even if you managed to escape, you wouldn’t be able to survive a night in the woods in your current state. Besides, your previous attempt at an impromptu escape didn’t exactly work out, did it? You know that if Simon catches you even considering jumping the fence once more, you won’t be able to escape the consequences. And the worst part? You’ll be forced back into the gloomy, damp confines of the basement.

The sudden sound of nearing footsteps catches your attention, causing you to spin around. Your eyes meet Simon, who is approaching with a large, fluffy towel in his hands. He struggles to hide the broad smile that has spread across his face.

“Lunch is ready,” he says, his gaze momentarily drifting towards the fence before returning to you. “We can eat if you’re hungry.”

His words strike you as odd - Simon, who is always quick to bark commands and dictate every action, was now calmly suggesting, not ordering. You’re not sure if you’ll ever fully adjust to this side of him, but at this moment, you find yourself surprisingly receptive. With no push or force compelling you, you nod in agreement, eager to follow him back inside after drying off and getting dressed. Your stomach gives a low grumble, betraying your hunger.

As you take in the events of the morning, you can’t help but acknowledge that it’s been the most normal start of the day you’ve had in a long while. The thought crosses your mind, but you quickly push it aside, choosing not to over analyze things. In fact, you make a conscious effort not to think too deeply about anything, because doing so would force you to admit that spending time with Simon when he’s in a good mood isn’t as terrible as you’d initially thought. In fact, it’s not bad at all.

A/N: I know I probably have mentioned this somewhere, but this fic is a kind of a sequel to my other story (poisonous obsession), so if you want to read more of Simon's past and understand better the last chapter, I'd suggest reading it. :) anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter & thank you for all the comments I keep receiving; the feedback motivates me to continue writing. <3

#simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #writing #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #call of duty #ghost x you #cod #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #ghost #ao3 fanfic #fem!reader #cod fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #cod x reader

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jelly-and-strawberries · 1 year

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Music Event Scenario ♡

Since apparently there's no scene for the image... I made one myself. Hope you like it.

After we managed to make that cacophonous snake go away, the guys and I finally breathed a sigh a relief.

"Why do I feel this isn't the first time we end up fighting a gigantic snake to save the day?" Said Mathieu with a strong feeling of deja vu.

"Last Christmas was the same, remember? A snake was stealing gifts" Mentioned Nevra who instead of looking tired had a bothered expression in his face. Probably because we five were always the ones who had to solve the problems on special occasions like today.

"Hopefully, it won't come back next year" Voiced Leiftan as if reading the mind of all of us.

"Don't give it ideas" Retorted Lance with irritation. It was understandable, we had wasted a lot of our time just so the others back at H.Q could enjoy the music festival. Now, the sun was going down and the concert would start-...

"OH NO!" I shouted causing the four to turn their heads in my direction. "What time is it?!"

"Ummm the sun is almost gone, so I would say... it's six or seven o'clock" Answered Mathieu nonchalantly.

"FUCK, I'M SO LATE!" I practically ran past the woods towards the H.Q while thinking how to be ready in five minutes.

"Late for what? If I may ask..." Asked Leiftan who catched up to me with the rest.

"The concert!" I said without slowing down my pace. Thanks to the their silence, I knew they didn't understand my sudden urge to go. "Remember I was supposed to sing a human song for Lady Beulanelle?"

"Shit, that's true" Mumbled Mathieu while messing with his hair.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" I gave Nevra a hard look for his unsupportive words.

"I can't go on stage like this, I look like I got beat up!" It was not a good time for Nevra to get on my nerves. "Besides, Purriry made me a special outfit for the ocassion".

"Dressing up shouldn't take you too long" Said Lance, another one who did not understand my struggle.

"I also have to do my hair and make up" I explained feeling deeply stressed. "I'll never be ready on time..."

Now Huang Hua will have another thing to use against me and make me feel guilty.

"How about we help you?" Offered Leiftan. "I can do your make up."

Leiftan... I couldn't help to look at him with adoration.

"I can help with the hair, I have a lot of experience because of Karenn" Said Nevra avoiding my gaze, maybe because he was feeling a little embarrased. I wasn't expecting him to help me too.

"And surely there's something that Lance and I can do as well" Mathieu and Lance... I wasn't expecting them to help me, but I was really grateful for their support. "What do you say? Do you let us help you out?

"Thank you, guys!"

[ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ]

Once I took a shower, Mathieu and Lance helped me put on my clothes. The outfit consisted of different pieces, so it was going to take some effort to get it perfect.

I was gadly surprised with the seriousness they took in doing the task.

I had the impression that their hands lingered in some parts of my body while adjusting my clothes, but maybe it was my imagination.

I had four guys over me, I was bound to feel self-conscious.

On the other hand, Nevra and Leiftan looked very concentrated while doing my hair and make up.

The vampire was brushing my hair with the utmost care. I even caught him smiling, something very weird nowadays.

I could feel Nevra's breath against my neck which was making me feel flustered.

And with Leiftan it was no different... his face was right in front of mine. It was impossible to avoid his passionate emerald eyes.

It was so hard to remain calm when he applied the lipstick. By the way he smirked, I was sure he knew the effect he was having in me.

This situation was so surreal.

I was so thankful.

Maybe after the concert ended, I could compesate them for their hard work...

I had several ideas in mind and surely they had some of their own.

The image gives me so much material girl energy, I love it ♡

#eldarya headcanon #eldarya new era #eldarya #eldarya the origins #eldarya a new era #eldarya to #eldarya ane #eldarya leiftan #eldarya lance #eldarya nevra #eldarya mathieu #eldarya event #Eldarya music event #Cantbelievethisisthelastevent

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akronus-writes · 5 months

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Reborn from oblivion

somewhere in mexico.

Aldira enters the small hut, after a group of mexican heroes exposd their operations, the drug lord who Aldiras uncle had been advising was forced to flee, so he chose a small hut while he prepared to flee to another country.

"Ah, Aldira! my favourite nephew! I saw what you did on TV! great plan, make the public think you've gone good so you can rebuild your empi-"

he collapsed, struggling to remain conscious as he struggled to force the oxygenated blood into his brain. he was always the weaker one compared to her dad, and Aldira knew that the alcohol always made his powers even weaker.

"it's not a ploy uncle, now stay here while the police arrive."

before he could respond, the lack of oxygen caused him to pass out, only then did she stop restricting the blood, brain damage would make prosecution harder.

Aldira walked out, going past the group of heroes and police officers, and then flying off too her next target.

Italy

Aldiras aunt didn't have powers, but she was the families equivalent of a spy master, she had the entirety of the Italian police around her finger, and knew enough secrets to topple governments.

she lived in a giant Villa packed with guards, but that doesn't matter when your opponent can sever your arteries from the other side of the country. but Aldira was trying to prove she was a hero, so she had to do it the "hard" way, as in she flied in because the Villa had no Anti air, crashed through her skylight mid banquet, demanded their grandparents location, outed her as a criminal, and flew off.

New york, new york city

Aldira had been fighting her grandparents for an hour now, the two were just as fast if not faster than her, and just as skilled with blood control.

their blood rain took most of her attention, having too put that much focus on keeping civilians from being torn to shreds, and fighting two people at once was near impossible like this.

"what's the matter? thought you were the prodigy" her grandmother yelled, laughing like a maniac

"did becoming a do-gooder turn you into a softie? fight back you weakling!" continued her grandfather

it pissed her off, they had no right to talk like that, they were splitting her focus between defending herself and protecting the civilians, she didn't have time to attack them.

wait, that's it, if she has to do all that, why not just do it all at the same time?

"your right, I am the prodigy, now fall." she spoke, almost devoid of emotion as she reached to outstretched hands out to her sides.

"wha-" her grandfather was interrupted as the blood spear he was about to throw turned around and slammed into him, the sharpened blood rain flying through the air, all of it focusing on the two elderly villains.

"I am aldira, I was the bloody queen, but now I have been reborn from oblivion, and my new purpose is to stop criminals like you!" she yelled as her grandparents control of the fight rapidly diminished.

"bloody sacrilege! regicide blade!" Aldira yelled as all her arteries burst, and the blood flooded into a huge blade of pure blood, and she raised her hand above her head.

her grandparents attempted to turn the blood around them into shields to protect themselves, it would not work.

"fall" Aldira pulled her hand down, and the blade followed suit, cutting through her grandparents hastily put together shields and sending them careening into a wall, the impact knocking them out.

A day later, on the news

"good morning! today we can happily report that the notorious international crime family, the bloody lords, has been taken down in a series of arrests on their top lieutenants, and even the elderly couple who ran the operation. as many would know, all of this is due to the ex-member and originally the grand daughter of the family heads, Aldira. the ex-crime lord who has recently announced her intent to repent for the years of criminal action her family has committed by becoming a hero. while many are quite unsure of the sincerity of her actions, many more agree that her recent actions show that she has earned both her freedom, and the publics trust"

@f4y3w00d5 @gobodegoblin @monsterfucker-research-wizard @the-blood-mage @good-wizard

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adrift-in-thyme · 1 year

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Day 8: Panic (Warriors & Legend)

Ao3 link

Cw for a panic attack and the Great Fairy acting creepy (it’s pretty much on par with Cia’s behavior from day 2)

————————-

It’s night by the time he sets out.

Warriors glances up at the sky as he walks. The moon shines serenely down on the town, its glow reflected in the puddles gathered on the cobblestones. A speckling of stars dots it, twinkling innocently like fairies.

Well, like some fairies.

He looks back down at his feet and swallows. He had felt it on the way to the town, a presence that never ceases to unsettle him. That of a Great Fairy.

The others likely would have felt it too, if not for their preoccupation with the injured Rancher. But he’s surprised that Legend and Wind hadn’t come across her in their search. Perhaps they were too preoccupied then too.

The cave looms off to the side, nearly hidden amongst a cloak of vines and Warriors steps off the path to head towards it. His heart begins to pick up its pace as he approaches, every beat reverberating in his throat. And the closer he grows, the more his hands tremble, betraying the dread within.

It’s been months since he has had to stand before a Great Fairy. Every part of him wants to turn back. If he returns to the inn maybe he’ll find Twilight out of bed, healed and grinning from another brush with death averted. But he knows that's just wishful thinking. He saw Hyrule’s expression and Time’s too—drawn and exhausted and bordering on hopelessness. He saw Twilight lying in bed, pale and weak, struggling to so much as remain conscious.

Even if Hyrule’s spell can work, the Traveler will doubtless wear himself out before it has the chance. Warriors balls his hands into fists, steeling his nerves. A Great Fairy can do anything—turn the tide of battle, grant special powers, heal the most severe of wounds. This is the only way.

With a deep breath, he plunges through the entrance. Two steps in and the fairy emerges, bursting from within the fountain with a shower of magic. She looks down at him, giggling in a way that makes his skin crawl.

“Welcome, courageous one,” she murmurs. “Come closer and tell me your plight.”

Warriors wants nothing more than to run for it, escape before the inevitable occurs. But he approaches the fountain instead, boots sinking in the moist dirt, fairies flitting out of his path. When he speaks his voice is surprisingly steady.

“My friend is dying. I need you to heal him.”

The fairy nods. “I can sense it, the dark magic within him. Though he doesn’t fight alone, even their combined strength is not enough. It is already draining away his life force.”

“But you can save him.”

“Of course.” She smiles and runs a finger along his cheek. “For a price.”

Warriors clenches his hands even tighter, fighting to conceal their trembling.

“What is it?”

She laughs and the sound of it seems to echo about the cave. “Oh, courageous one, it’s you.”

There’s a bottle in her hand now, so large that someone much taller than him could fit inside it. And he knew this would be the cost, he knew it, but Warriors’ blood runs cold anyway.

“So,” the fairy says, tilting the bottle to and fro in her long-fingered grip, “do you still want me to heal your friend?”

Already, his lungs are constricting, his body tensing, ready to sprint in the opposite direction. But Warriors inhales a purposefully slow breath and looks her right in the eyes.

“Yes.”

“Wonderful! Then let’s begin!”

Warriors has mere seconds to brace himself before she brings the bottle down in a smooth arc, scooping him up effortlessly. His gut plummets as he falls and hits the bottom with an “oof.” Immediately he scrambles back to his feet, just in time to look up and see her pop on the lid.

It’s only then that he realizes he has no idea when…or if she’ll let him out.

She tilts the bottle, so he slides down to collide painfully with the side of it. With a leering grin, she leans forward to peer in at him.

“My, my, you are a pretty one. I might just keep you forever.”

Panic wedges itself in Warriors throat and he tries to stumble back, away from her searching gaze. But then she tilts the bottle once more and he ends up careening backward instead, slamming into the opposite side. Stars explode before his eyes.

“Careful now,” she croons, waggling a finger at him. “We wouldn’t want you to ruin that pretty face of yours.”

Her words are like a vice around his neck. Warriors drags in a strangled breath, struggling against the urge to fight his way out of this.

Just hold on a little longer. Just until Twilight’s healed.

But what if there is no end? What if she decides to follow through on her comment and keep him forever?

A cold sweat crawls across Warriors’ skin and he curls in on himself.

Magic is swirling about outside of his prison now, in a nauseating mini cyclone of pink. It only makes the bottle seem smaller, tighter. A cry rises in his throat, a desperate plea to be let free. But he closes his eyes and grits his teeth, and somehow, miraculously manages to hold it back.

Seconds tick by, turning to minutes that stretch into eternity. His breathing grows faster until he can hardly drag in any air at all, and his heart threatens to pound out of his chest. When he opens his eyes, the bottle seems to constrict further, glass pressing against his body, squeezing the life out of him. He shuts them again almost immediately and digs his nails into his palms.

He’s never going to get out of here. She’s never going to let him go. Forever he’ll be trapped, like a bug in a child’s collection, to be peered at and inspected and jostled about for enjoyment.

Something like a sob breaks past his defenses, and he hunches down further, pressing his forehead to his knees.

When at last the rush of magic stops and he feels her gaze on him once more, he can hardly get the words out past the tightness in his throat.

“I-is he alive?”

“Alive and well,” she replies with a smile, and relief rockets through Warriors. But her next words quickly squash it. “I believe I’ll keep you a bit longer though.”

Warriors stumbles up on shaky legs. “No. No! I fulfilled my part of the bargain. We-we’re finished.”

“What he said, lady,” a familiar voice shouts from far below. A glance downward lets Warriors catch a glimpse of a blue cap set on a head of pink hair. “He did his part. Let him go or you’ll regret it.”

The fairy laughs. “Oh, how you threaten, little one! Ah, well, I suppose if you insist. There’s no need for a fight, after all. I don’t wish to kill you.”

She uncorks the bottle and turns it upside down. Warriors plummets, hitting the ground with a dull thud. For a long moment, he can only sit there, trying to breathe. But then Legend puts an arm around his shoulders and hauls him up.

“Come on,” he says, as Warriors stumbles forward, still shaking uncontrollably. “We’re getting out of here.”

They make it out of the cave without event, though Warriors can feel the Great Fairy’s gaze on him the whole time. No sooner have they stepped out into the open air, than he collapses once more, weak with nauseating terror and overwhelming relief.

He’s free. It’s over. But with the Great Fairy still just behind him, it hardly feels that way.

Legend squats down in front of him, skewering him with a glare. “What was that?! I’ve never–you-you were just gonna let her keep you like a pet?!”

Any other time Warriors would find his overexcitement amusing. Right now, he finds it more exhausting. It’s more than enough trying to drag in each breath, he doesn’t need the veteran having a conniption fit too.

He stares down at his trembling hands and works to form the words to the question he needs to ask.

“Is Twilight, okay?”

“He’s fine now, thanks to you,” Legend replies, grumpily.

Warriors closes his eyes and chokes out a shaky exhale.

It’s over, he tells himself once more, as though that will make it any more real. As though that will drive the feeling of being trapped, pinned beneath her leering gaze away.

A hand comes to rest hesitantly on his shoulder. When he raises his head Legend has dropped to his knees beside him and is regarding him with an uncharacteristically soft expression.

“Are you alright?”

Warriors huffs a laugh he doesn’t feel. The panic hasn’t even begun to subside yet. “I’ll be fine, Vet. It’s not the first time I’ve been through that.”

“Not the first–” Legend springs to his feet again, outraged. “I didn’t even know fairies could do that, and yet–and yet you’re over here telling me they’ve done it to you before?! Those little…”

He mutters a string of curses beneath his breath, hands fisted at his sides, gaze trained murderously at the cave. For a moment, Warriors is certain he’s going to run off and slay the fairy, but then the veteran turns back to him. He stares down at him, miserable affair that he must be, and Warriors stares back, trying to read the emotions churning in those sharp eyes. He hasn’t even identified half of them, however, before Legend drops down again.

…and hugs him.

Warriors goes rigid with shock. He didn’t even think Legend was capable of accepting hugs, and for him to give on so freely…

“Vet, wha–”

“Don’t question it,” Legend snaps. “Don’t ask for me to do this again, either. This is a one-time thing because you look absolutely pitiful.”

A more genuine chuckle escapes Warriors, and he slumps forward, into the safety of the veteran’s embrace.

#febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday8 #panic attack #linkeduniverse #lu warriors #lu legend #trin writes

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calibraptor · 9 months

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I very much enjoy weight gain in vore, if the prey doesn't make some sort of impact on their predator's figure it actually curbs a lot of my enjoyment, you know?

A small tasteful amount of gains per prey is usually my preference. Your average human will probably end up as an extra dozen or so pounds distributed amongst Cal's underbelly, haunches, and tail.

The thought of a prey sludge filled gut swell glurping and dwindling away as tummy, thighs, and tail alike fill out with the fresh calories my prey has kindly contributed to me activates my almonds something fierce.

Especially the thought of my prey still somehow being not only still conscious but feeling EVERY sensation as they're becoming/have become a part of me.

That being said I don't mind less tasteful gains either, I'm a fan of a character going on a big binge and then struggling to fit through/into things, wardrobe malfunctions, big doughy gut n' thighs indenting into every seat... Weight gain to the point of complete immobility seems to be where I draw my line though. It's just... significantly less fun & appealing after you hit that threshold.

Although I adore interacting with and enabling any fat furs I encounter ahahaha. I'm cool with extreme blobfat furs so long as I'm not expected I go ham planet myself.

Which is a little weird, since I 100% don't mind a vore gut big enough to render the predator stranded and immobile -- only whether they'll be capable of moving after they've finished up their prey.

Cue Cal swallowing a dragon several times his size and waddling away from the encounter with massive pillowy thighs, a tail so thick it's a wonder it can remain aloft, and a big sagging pudgy ball-gut that flirts with the ground with every step n' sway he takes.

#soft vore #rappmusing #digestion #absorption

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corevoid · 2 years

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AAYYY some refs for my turts!! Still tryna work out a name for this au lmao. Rewrote the text under the cut, apologies for my atrocious handwriting ahddhhdjf

Really vague story synopsis: “villain” donnie au where he doesn’t become evil exactly but instead snaps and goes on a violent revenge quest to avenge the death of someone close to him. He believes he has to be the one to kill the one who did it, and leaves his family and becomes a sort of antagonist to them as well while they try to help him and bring him back so they can tackle this together.

I don’t know if I’m gonna make it a fic or if it’s just gonna live in my head lmao (motivation to write is sucks) but I’m definitely gonna be doing a good chunk of art for it :D

(ALSO IMPORTANT: their origin is very rise esque in that they were mutated with the intention of them being weapons. They have some genetic enhancements (pain tolerance and strength, most notably) and have some added dna from wolves and cats.)

(Also also forgot Mikey and Donnie’s flags they’re genderfluid and demiboy respectively)

Hamato Leonardo, 17 y/o, he/him, 5’9”

-Headphones are Bluetooth

-yellow pupil, tends to unnerve people

-most doglike of the 4, lets him pull some terrifying expressions

-in regards to knee brace, pain from an old break

-pure white nictitating membrane

-inferiority complex + anxiety

-most wolf dna of the 4, shows in snout and teeth. Behaviourally very doglike. Incredible sense of smell and hearing.

-quiet but not shy. Scarily observant.

-adorably polite, massive people pleaser

-the most hungry for his dads approval, has gotten him and his siblings in trouble trying to get it

-music enthusiast. Has a YouTube channel dedicated to making electronic remixes of literally everything under the sun (huge nerd)

Hamato Raphael, 17 y/o, he/she, 5’7”

-Alligator snapping turtle, second youngest

-plastron chip is as healed as it will get. Is what remains of a near complete left shoulder to right hip crack.

-chews his mask tails when he’s nervous

-red pupil, black band horizontally through iris

-files her spines down, back is flat and smooth

-strap on back for carrying a skateboard like Mikey has

-light bluish iridescence to his nictitating membrane

-kept the most turtle features through mutation out of the 4. Iris band, mostly intact beak, can’t process a lot of foods, higher skin/scales ratio, etc…

-hot headed + short fuse, but also good hearted and gentle

-self proclaimed protector of the family. Made it his duty to be the only killer after seeing how Leo’s first (and only) kill affected him.

-it affects Raph too, but she pretends it doesn’t (get this child therapy!) Only ever talks to Casey about this.

-incredible cook, but only cooks for family. Own diet is just a normal turtles and entirely raw. (Still sometimes eats stuff he shouldn’t as a treat)

-loves animals, mad she isn’t allowed a cat

Hamato Donatello, 17 y/o, he/they, 6’2”

-Spiny softshell, youngest but tallest sibling

-one end of staff is a flamethrower :)

-top compartment of battleshell also acts as storage!

-self conscious about their height

-flexible and very flat shell, spines are soft

-removed several spikes so his battleshell would fit more comfortably —> no longer allowed in his lab unsupervised

-yellow iridescence to their nictitating membrane

-shell doesn’t come up past their shoulders when he stands straight

-very quiet and rather shy, confident in his intelligence but not much else

-doesn’t speak often, and when they do it tends to be very succinct. It’s a special treat whenever they actively participate in a conversation

-Mikey is very special to him. Rarely ever see one without the other. Mikey frequently acts as Donnie’s voice, always knows exactly what he’s feeling and thinking (like twin telepathy pretty much)

-enitrely carnivorous, and a good hunter

-struggles to keep their animal nature separate from their human nature. Prone to slipping into a feral state, especially under stress, and is always feral during fights

-VERY self conscious and embarrassed by this, tries very hard to stay in a human mindset

-robotics hobbyist. Participates in robot fighting and currently holds champ title. Attends remotely via a metalhead-esque robotic body. His persona/stagename is Dondroid :)

Hamato Michelangelo, 17 y/o, any pronouns, 5’ even

-Ornate box turtle, second oldest but still the shortest

-doesn’t wear elbow pads 🤨

-very tall and round shell

-pink iridescence to her nictitating membrane

-heterochromia!

-excitable and energetic, but like in an easygoing sort of way

-VERY emotionally intelligent,can understand someone’s emotional state via vibes alone

-closest with Donnie, they understand eachother on an insanely deep level. Frequently acts as Donnie’s voice and is his primary support

-they’re the most human of the 4. He’s incapable of making the more animal sounds his siblings can and has to just approximate them with the voice box he has.

-she’s also the only warm blooded turtle. Makes them a prime hug target.

-An artist! Loves any 2d medium. Has an ongoing comic (6 books and counting) about a self insert superhero lol (her sidekick is based off Donnie, too)

142 notes · View notes

fandomohana · 2 years

Text

1986 Will Be Their Year {Eddie Munson x Plus Size Henderson Sister Reader} Chapter Five

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Plus Size Henderson Sister Reader

Rating: PG

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 4300+

Summary: We've reached the end of the season, Eddie's battle, his rescue, and love confessions. 💙

Authors note: Eddie's rescue scene was inspired by the song Burning by Yeah Yeah Yeahs. When there is mention of Eddie being a coward, that is Eddie talking to Eddie. We know our boy is no coward. 💙

Eddie Munson Masterlist

As the RV rolled down the lone highway, the gentle swaying began to lull members of the group into a gentle doze, Y/N being one of them. With the adrenaline wearing off, Eddie noticed her head begin to loll to the side while her eyes struggled to stay open. In time, the rhythm of the road was too much for her, and her head tipped to the side, finding Eddie’s shoulder, her breath softly fanning out across his neck. His heart skipped a beat as the warmth radiating from her body spread to his own, wrapping him in comfort. He had to stop himself from moving his arm, itching to drape it across her shoulders, and bring her closer into his side. She remained this way, sleeping comfortably for several minutes after the vehicle stopped, to Eddie’s delight, until her head lolled slightly, breaking her slumber.

Becoming aware of her surroundings, Y/N’s head shot up, eyes wide, “Shit! I’m so sorry! God...tell me I didn’t drool...” She put her head in her hands, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Pretty girl falls asleep on me, I can think of worse situations to be in.” He says with a sly grin, before her other words finally registered, “Wait. You drool?” He couldn’t help the smile in his words.

Not moving her face from its hiding place, Y/N slightly mumbles, “Yes...”

Eddie chuckles, pulling a hand away from her face, “Let’s put this into perspective. We’re both covered in bat blood, lake shit, and I don’t even know what else. A little drool is the least of my concerns, but if it makes you feel better.” He checks his jacket sleeve, and his shirt. “All dry, Princess.”

Y/N shifts her eyes, giving him a sideways glance.

“There she is.” Eddie grins.

Her other hand drops from her face, a self-conscious smile on her face, “Thanks, Eddie.”

The moment is quickly broken when Steve pulls open the door of the RV, and throws a bag in Eddie’s face.

--------------------

Steve, Dustin, and Y/N stood beside the RV, the entire scene shielded by the towering Brimborn Steel Works.

“Are you sure we can trust her?” Steve asked hesitantly, eyes still surveying the entire area for lurkers.

“Me and Dustin trust her with our lives, she’s our cousin, have some faith.” Y/N shuffled from one foot to the other.

Within a moment of their exchange, tires on gravel could be heard as a vehicle came down the long drive to the abandoned building. All three held their breath, waiting to see exactly who came around the corner. Dustin and Y/N breathed a sigh of relief as they saw a blue Cutlass slow to a stop several feet away, and a tall woman, still dressed in scrubs, emerged from the vehicle.

“Dusty, Y/N, what is going on? Aunt Claudia is freaking out!” The newcomer reprimands the pair.

“Tori, we need your help, but you have to trust us.” Dustin implored.

Tori looked around, becoming concerned by her cousin’s behavior, “What is happening?”

Y/N turned her head to the RV, and called out, “Eddie.”

The door opened, and Eddie appeared before the group, noting how Tori’s face began to pale, and praying this had been a good idea.

“What the fuck is going on?! Isn’t that the kid they’re looking for? Why is he with you?!” Tori shrieks.

“Calm down, please! He didn’t do anything, I swear to god! Just trust us, please.” Dustin begged.

Tori eyes Eddie up and down, “Okay.” She says slowly, “I’m listening.”

“Steve, Eddie,” Y/N began, “This is our cousin, Tori, Dr. Victoria Henderson. Steve, please lift up your shirt.”

Steve grabbed the hem of the newly acquired shirt, and began to pull it off his frame. He tosses the shirt to Dustin, and begins to pull the taped gauze away from his skin, exposing the fresh wounds to the doctor.

Tori gasped, “Oh my God, what happened to you?!” She rushes to Steve’s side, inspecting the wounds.

“That’s why we need your help. There are crazy things happening in Hawkins, things that defy logic...things you won’t believe, until you see them.” Dustin spoke solemnly.

The small group explained to Tori, exactly what was plaguing Hawkins, hoping she would believe them, despite the incredulous look on her face.

“So, you want me to believe there is some parallel dimension under Hawkins? You do realize how this sounds, right? I could have you all put under 72-hour observation.”

“Have we ever lied to you?” Y/N asked solemnly.

Tori looked at Steve’s wounds again, she had seen plenty of animal bites, but nothing like this, and her cousins did look scared. She let out a sigh, “Say I believe you, what exactly do you want from me?”

“These little bastards are everywhere in the Upside Down,” began Steve, “We don’t stand a chance without someone on the other side, ready to patch us back up.”

“You want me to run a triage, right? Where exactly would this take place?”

“The Munson trailer, it’s our best way back in. Please, Tori, we wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an emergency.” Dustin was practically begging.

Tori looked to Eddie then, “Look me in the eyes, and tell me you didn’t do this.”

Eddie looked to Y/N, who nodded reassuringly, before looking directly into the doctor’s eyes. “I’ll swear on anything you want, I didn’t hurt anyone. I know what people are saying about me, what they’ve always said, but I swear...it’s...none of it is true.”

His eyes were wide, imploring. Tori had some training in psychology, she had seen liars, this kid wasn’t lying. This kid was traumatized.

Taking a steadying breath, Tori gives her answer, “I believe you. I’ll do what I can, but I have to get supplies from the hospital. Give me a time, and the address, I’ll bring a couple of my nurse friends.”

At her words, Dustin and Y/N launch themselves into the older woman, hugging her, and raining a chorus of, thank you, on her. Tori wraps her cousins into a hug, promising them that she would help.

After being given an arrival time, and address to the trailer, Tori waves goodbye to the group, before returning to her car, and disappearing down the road.

--------------------

The sound of metal on metal pierced the air in the wooded clearing, and mingled with the sound of quiet conversation. Eddie and Dustin each drove nails into their respective trash can lids, creating makeshift shields, while Y/N tore rags to wrap around small tree limbs to create torches, another form of defense for the group.

Finishing their task, Eddie lifts the studded shield, “How’s she feeling?” asked Dustin.

Eddie responds with a flourish of the studded lid, “Light. But durable.” Thrusting the shield into the sky, he continued, “Deadly. But reliable.”

Both Dustin and Y/N chuckle from their places on the ground, torch making put on hold to watch the unfolding scene.

Eddie points dramatically in the direction of the two on the ground, lowering his voice to a grizzled growl, “Hear me now.” He lifts his arm toward the air, in a heroic pose, “There will be no more retreating...” Moving out of his previous pose, his voice returns to normal as he proclaims, “from Eddie the Banished.” A coy grin playing on his face, as he pats the shield at his side.

Rising from his kneeled position, and lifting his own shield, “Hey, you’re really ready for bat-tle.” Replied Dustin with a grin, and goofy chuckle.

Y/N rolled her eyes, uttering a simple, “oh lord...” in response to her brother’s antics.

Eddie, however, appeared less than amused as Dustin continued, “You get it?” Eddie continued his deadpan stare toward the younger boy. “Bat-tle. B-A-T.” The look on the older boy’s face remained stoic. “No?” Dustin groaned, looking toward the ground, dejected. “I thought I had a good one.”

Dustin places his shield on the ground, not noticing the swift movement by his side, as Eddie discarded his own shield, and proceeded to tackle the younger boy.

“What are you doing?” Came Dustin’s breathless reply.

Y/N’s voice could be heard over the grunts, yelling, “Eddie, don’t break him, my mom will kill me! Bruises, no lost limbs, I’m serious.”

Eddie laughed, and reassured her that he would do no permanent damage to the boy, as he pushed Dustin from him.

With a breathy, “You son of a bitch!” Dustin launches into Eddie’s torso, pushing the older boy like a tackling dummy, until Eddie’s hand creeps into wedgie territory, and being greeted by Dustin’s cry of, “No wedgies! No wedgies!”

Eddie pulls Dustin up, clapping his hands onto either side of the younger boy's shoulders, “Never change, Dustin Henderson.” Looking into his eyes, and cradling Dustin’s neck, Eddie continued, “Promise me?”

Shaking his head, sobriety overtaking his features, Dustin assures him, “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good.” Comes Eddie’s reply, a smile playing on his lips. “Good.” He says again, urging Dustin with a tilt of his head.

Still on the ground, Y/N looked on at the display, a wistful smile playing across her lips, happy to see both boys more relaxed, and lighthearted. Eddie couldn’t know in that moment, how Y/N’s attraction to him grew while she watched them.

Eddie breaks the moment, patting Dustin on the shoulder before calling out, “Hey, Sinclairs. How are those, uh...those spears coming on?

--------------------

With shields, torches, and weapons prepared, the group loaded up the RV, and head toward an unknown future.

Eddie was flanked on his right by Dustin, Y/N to his left, her small backpack of kerosene-soaked torches riding on the floor between her feet. Silence enveloped the space, each person contemplating their futures, their role in the battle to come, and steeling their resolve. A furtive look passed between Eddie and Y/N, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms, and keep her safe.

The RV rolled to a stop in front of the abandoned Creel house. While none of the passengers spoke, the prevailing thought was shared by all, would they live to see each other again? Would this be the battle that would irrevocably tear the party apart? Only time would tell as the RV continued on its path, after Erica, Lucas, and Max departed.

In the dimly lit RV, Nancy went through the plan once again, verifying each participant knew their place, Dustin, Eddie, and Y/N being on bat patrol as part of phase three. The group breaks, entering the silent trailer park, moving with purpose toward the Munson trailer.

--------------------

Before the group could enter through the gate in the trailer’s ceiling, a soft knocking could be heard on the door. Y/N cracked the door open, revealing Tori, and two strangers. All three had arms full of medical supplies, the entire group sighed in relief, the cavalry had arrived.

Entering the space, the eyes of the new women were drawn to the ceiling, and the horrifying sight of red sinew, gazing back like a gaping wound.

“Holy shit...” Tori mumbled, eyes wide in shock.

“Do you believe us now?” Dustin asked.

No words escaped the newcomers' lips, only a trio of nodding heads, unable to fully comprehend what was happening.

Tori shook herself from her stupor, “This is Pam,” she pointed to the redheaded woman whose eyes were still locked in place. “And this is Angela,” she added, pointing to the blonde woman. “We went through school together; I trust them with my life. We’ll set up the triage here, and wait for your signal.”

“Thanks, Tori.” Y/N gave her cousin a quick hug, before leaving the three women to set up their makeshift hospital.

Steve climbs through the opening in the ceiling first, before moving the mattress to catch the other members of the team, as they pass through the opening. Each member takes their turn going through, weapons being tossed through between bodies, until Y/N was up. Climbing her Hobbit ladder on their side, and expecting to climb down the ladder in the Upside Down, she had a moment of confusion when Eddie, again, held out his arms to catch her. Y/N’s descent was less traumatic this time, trusting Eddie’s strength. Despite the dire situation, Eddie couldn’t help the flutter in his chest as her warmth landed, once again, in his arms. Holding her felt natural, and he hoped he would have more chances in the future, in happier situations, to hold her again.

The trailer door squeaks open, as the group filed out into the open. Steve turned to face Dustin, Eddie, and Y/N, “Hey, guys, listen. If things here start to go south, I mean, at all,” he emphasized, “you abort. Okay? Draw the attention of the bats. Keep ‘em busy for a minute or two. We’ll take care of Vecna. Don’t try to be cute or be a hero or something. Okay? You guys are just---”

“Decoys.” Steve and Dustin respond together.

“We can’t do that, Steve.” Came Y/N’s reply, before she squeezed her brother’s cheeks between her fingers, “We can’t not be cute, look at this face!”

Steve rolled his eyes, as Dustin continued, after freeing his face from his sister’s grip, “Don’t worry, you can be the hero, Steve.”

“Absolutely.” Drawled Eddie. “I mean, look at us. We are not heroes.” Eddie chuckled. As Steve began to walk away, Eddie spoke again, “Hey, Steve? Make him pay.”

--------------------

With the rest of the group on the move, Eddie, Dustin, and Y/N set to work fortifying the trailer. The trio used a tarp to pull spare debris, metal, and chain link fence sections, toward the trailer, where Eddie secured the found pieces.

Stepping back, the group observes the fruit of their labor. Chain link, sheet metal, and planks adorned any weak spots, or entry points to the trailer.

“Not bad.” Eddie commented.

“Not bad at all.” Came Dustin’s reply.

“Now for the fun part.” Eddie added.

The group burst through the bedroom door, Eddie stopping short when his eyes fall on his guitar, “Jesus Chr...” came his breathy response, before his voice took on a tone of reverence, and awe, “It’s like...she was destined for an alternate dimension. What do you say, Hendersons?” He reaches out, gripping the guitar in front of him by the bridge, gazing upward, “Are you ready for the most metal concert in the history of the world?” His voice dreamy, as he glanced back at the Henderson siblings.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Dustin responded with a soft chuckle.

Slinging the instrument across his back, his face taking on an air of excitement, “Let’s do it.”

Eddie, Dustin, and Y/N stood perched on the roof of the trailer, when Robin’s voice came across the walkie talkie, “She’s in. Move on to phase three.”

“Copy that. Initiating phase three.” Dustin relayed, before reaching for the extension cord, plugging in the amp. “Let’s hope they hear this.”

Eddie’s stony gaze looked out across the darkness, “Chrissy, this is for you.” He bites out, ripping the chain holding his pic, from his neck, not noticing the brief look of hurt that crossed Y/N’s face. With a shout, Eddie tore into Metallica’s Master of Puppets, the sound of the chords ripping across the silent landscape.

Dustin and Y/N kept look out, monitoring the swarm with binoculars, and alerting Eddie as the beasts came closer, “We gotta lock down in T-minus 30 seconds!” Dustin called.

“T-minus 20!” Y/N cried.

The final warning came from Dustin, “T-minus 10!” As Eddie began the finishing flourishes of the solo.

Y/N’s voice carried through the air, as the final strings echoed, “One!”

The trio raced from the roof of the trailer, onto the cab of a parked truck, into the bed, and raced across to their makeshift cage, Eddie slamming the door as he passed the threshold.

Through the sound of panting, Dustin could be heard exclaiming, “Dude! Most metal ever!” Followed by Eddie’s breathless, “Oh my...oh my God.” The pair finished with screams, and excited jumping.

--------------------

The sound of crashing, and screeching could be heard by the three humans inside the improvised stronghold. All three circled the middle of the room, backs to each other, Dustin and Eddie holding spears and shields, Y/N holding a torch in one hand, and Eddie’s lighter in the other.

An eerie silence broke over the space, as the swarm suddenly silenced. Eddie could feel the slight shuddering coming from Y/N.

Dustin’s voice pierced the silence, “Hey, dipshits! Give up that easy, huh?”

Eddie shushed Dustin as his sister smacked him, “Is that really necessary?” Growled Eddie.

Clattering could be heard overhead as three sets of eyes turned upward, “They’re on the roof.” Eddie said calmly.

A small chorus of, shit, could be heard coming from the two Hendersons. Eddie, Dustin, and Y/N began to creep through the living room of the trailer, stepping closer to the sounds of scuffling coming from the roof.

“They can’t get in through there, can they?” Dustin asked while gazing at the air vent in the ceiling.

A breath later, the vent burst open to reveal the head of a demobat, as it attempted to force its way into the trailer. The demonic creature was greeted by Dustin and Eddie’s spears, as they tore into the beast's flesh.

Eddie realized, quickly, that with the vent open, the three would be outnumbered rapidly. He glanced around, looking for something to slow the horde, as Dustin screamed for him.

“Get out of the way! Get out of the way!” Eddie screamed as he pulled a chair from the small dining table. He placed the chair directly beneath the hole, and grabbed a shield. With a scream, he jammed the shield into the ceiling, blocking the hole, and thwarting the screeching monsters. “Holy shit. Holy shit.” came Eddie’s panted reply.

“Nice.” Y/N gasped out from below.

“Thanks.” He breathed out, giving each Henderson a low five.

As the three caught their breath, Dustin spoke, “Are there any other vents?”

“Oh shit.” was all Eddie could reply, as he jumped from the chair, and dove toward his bedroom.

A small horde burst from the corner of the room as the three began to enter, forcing them into a retreat, while Eddie slammed the door.

As the door began to splinter, and falter under the weight of the beasts, Dustin cried out, “That’s not gonna hold!”

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” Eddie screamed over the sound of cracking wood.

The Hendersons didn’t need to be told twice, Dustin began climbing the rope, while Y/N scaled the Hobbit ladder.

Eddie could hear Y/N’s voice from the other side, urging him through. He grabbed the sheet rope, preparing to hoist himself toward the ceiling, and to safety, until his own words replaying in his mind, stopped him in his tracks. He couldn’t run. Instead, he grabbed a spear, easily slicing through the rope to the horror of the two Hendersons above him.

Pushing the mattress from under the hole, and slinging a spear across his back, Eddie looks up and tells the pair, “I’m buying more time.”

Crashing through the door of the trailer, Eddie ran toward the discarded bike. He wouldn’t run this time. He wouldn’t be a coward, not again.

--------------------

Eddie raced through the trailer park, leading the swarm behind me, and screaming, “Come get me, you sons of bitches!”

Whatever came next, he was ready. Dustin and Y/N were safe. Eddie wasn’t going down without a fight.

As Eddie maneuvered the bike, a demobat swooped from the sky, ramming him from the bike, into the hard ground. After the momentum of the fall put an end to his rolling, Eddie brought himself back to his feet, and continued to run, the swarm on his trail.

His own words began to replay in his head, stopping him in his tracks, ‘I didn’t know what to do, so I...I...I ran away. I just ran, and I left her there. I mean, look at us. We are not heroes.’

Eddie turned to face the swarm, drawing his shield and spear, he would go down fighting. No more running. The swarm struck with ferocity, his shield holding them back temporarily, as they bounced off the thin metal.

He was able to keep them at bay for a time, but soon he could feel their teeth begin to tear at his flesh, his knees going weak as the ground rose up to meet him. This was it, he was going to die here. He closed his eyes against the onslaught, giving over to his fate.

But then he heard it, in the midst of the swarm, thundering footsteps neared him. Eddie could feel the presence of someone else above him as he willed a single eye open. There she was, like a goddamn Valkyrie riding into battle, two torches in her hands, slinging the burning wood into the demobats around him. Raising his head, he clocked Dustin, shield in one hand, flaming torch in the other, setting the swarm alight.

It only took a few demobats being set ablaze, and crushed under Y/N’s foot, to set the swarm into chaos. He could hear her guttural screams as she pulled bats from his body, and turned each into fireballs. The area quickly silenced, the swarm alight, and in a state of mayhem, as they fled.

Eddie drifted in and out, pulled to his feet, pressure added to the wounds littered across his body, as his torch wielding rescuers blazed a path through the few remaining bats, and to the trailer. He had the sensation of being raised up, hands pulling on him, and a short feeling of weightlessness, before his world went completely black.

--------------------

Eddie felt himself floating in the inky black of dreamless sleep, the agonizing pain he had felt before, was a distant memory. But in the back of his mind, he felt a pulling, the need to swim toward consciousness, began to pull him through the darkness around him. He had to come back. He wouldn’t give up, he had to get back to Y/N.

With a last push, Eddie could feel himself coming back, the weight of his body began to register, then the feeling of a foreign weight on his left, caught his attention. He willed his eyes to open, forcing the lids up, and allowing the bright light flooding the room, to invade the darkness. In a moment, he was able to discern his surroundings, he was in the trailer, the bed he was lying in felt foreign, Wayne’s he assumed. What remained a mystery, was the weight on his left hand, and arm, at least until he looked down, and was met with the prettiest face he had ever seen.

Y/N looked like an angel, she had pulled a chair to his bedside, and fallen asleep on his arm, her face turned up toward him. Eddie couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face, or the butterflies he felt in the pit of his stomach.

“Pretty girl falls asleep on me twice; I must’ve died back there. This has to be heaven.” He says softly.

Eddie’s voice breaks through Y/N’s own dreamless slumber, waking her with a start. “Eddie? Oh my god, you’re awake! Are you okay? Are you in pain?” Her questions came rapid fire.

“Did you drool?” Eddie replied with a grin, before reassuring her, “I’m okay, beautiful. How’re the others?”

“Everyone’s okay, Eddie, we were able to stop it. I need to tell Tori you’re awake.” Y/N tried to stand, but Eddie was faster, grabbing hold of her wrist to keep her in place.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Okay, but I need to get Tori, she said to call her when you-”

Eddie cut her off, “Y/N, I almost died back there, and I don’t wanna die without telling you how much I love you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened in shock, and then disbelief. “Eddie, you’re on a lot of pain medicine, you just woke up, you don’t know what you’re saying.” she said, looking away.

Eddie cupped her chin, bringing her eyes to meet his own. “Not gonna lie, Pretty Girl, I’ve got a nice body high going. But my mind?” He tapped his head with his free hand to emphasize his point, “My mind is clear, and if you don’t believe me, let me put it this way. The day we met, you walked into class in those black Converse that you sent those fucking demobats to hell with, jeans, a Queen 1982 tour tee, light colored denim jacket with a bunch of pins on it, including an enamel Elvira pin, a Joan Jett pin, Michael Myers, and a fucking adorable unicorn. You had your hair up in a blue scrunchie, you were wearing silver earrings shaped like moons and stars, black and blue jelly bracelets, and a blue splatter watch.”

Y/N’s eyes grew wide in complete shock, “You remember all that?” She squeaked out.

Eddie’s grin grew bigger, “Are you asking me if I remember what the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, was wearing when I met her? Baby, I’ve been half gone on you since the second I saw you.”

Eddie’s brain begins to short-circuit when in a flash, Y/N pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss. When the feeling of her soft lips against his own finally did register, Eddie deepened the kiss, holding her face between his hands. She felt natural, like every other interaction they had had. She moved her hands to his face, cradling him, neither wanting to end the kiss.

“Oh my god, finally...” Dustin’s voice broke the moment.

Eddie and Y/N broke their first kiss, their foreheads resting together. In unison, the pair raised their middle fingers toward the younger boy.

“Goodbye, Henderson.” Came Eddie’s exasperated voice.

Dustin threw his hands up in surrender, before leaving the room.

“So, uh.” Eddie suddenly felt shy, “Can I take you on a date?”

A beautiful grin spread across Y/N’s face, “Do you really need to ask?”

--------------------

Taglist:

@bohemianrhapsody86, @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior, @a-time-for-wolvess, @ghosttownwherenoonegoes, @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul, @sweetpeapod, @emotionaldreamer, @crazyjenny8675309, @rydellakurancarson

Header credit goes to the fabulous @sweetpeapod 💙

#Spotify #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x plus size!reader #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x plus size henderson sister reader #plus size #plus size reader #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn stranger things #joseph quinn #joe quinn

92 notes · View notes

ryndicate · 2 years

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ A Drop in Time

Don’t listen too closely to the silence. It whispers things you don’t want to hear.

Vampire!Megumi x reader (fem body/pronouns)

notes: this installment was proofread by a friend who deserves all my love and i could wax poetic about them all night.... but here’s the first chapter! A true introduction to the world we live in. Also, just because he’s a background character in JJK, just know that Shouta was the dbag that was mean to Junpei lol, no relation to any other character cause I definitely used some names from other shows to name my other minor characters.

Warnings: non-sexual penetration, memories of physical assault, depictions of death/grief, descriptions of arranged marraige/misogyny, mentions of ye olde birth control, religious themes

By expanding, you are consenting to viewing adult/dark content, and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI

Blog Rules & Main Links

⋆⁺₊⋆ Prologue ☪︎ Masterlist ☪︎ Series Warnings ☪︎ ch. ii. ⋆⁺₊⋆

Something bright irritates your eyes and a terrible stench greets you as you stir, movements leaden.

"She's awake! Call the priest, quick!"

Your eyes blink open slowly, a fierce ache in your head making them flutter closed almost immediately. Your body feels on fire as you curl in on yourself, feeling much too stiff, brittle like old bones. You've never been in this much pain before, not even when you cut your leg on your father's tools as a child; the fever then almost killed you, according to your mother, but your memories of the time are broken at best. Sleep threatens your mind once more, blackness tinging on the edge of your vision.

"Little one, are you well enough to speak?"

Struggling, you look towards the familiar voice and make a final attempt to remain conscious. You've only met him a few times as he's the only priest for the few villages in this area. He makes time to visit for his duties once a fortnight. Everyone trusts him.

The wariness in his eyes is enough to fill you with unease. This man was present at your birth, and has never given you more than a firm scolding in your life. The grim set of his jaw is unfamiliar, wrong.

"Father?"

Your voice is small, dry and rasping, reminding you of the pain from the night before. Your throat burns, agony exploding across your senses as you wheeze and cough. Your hands immediately raise to cover the wounds on your neck, eyes growing hazy with tears. You can sense the others nearby looking on with curiosity, but too fearful to approach. Their wary stares fill you with panic.

"Dear child," An ounce of care filters into his tone, but it remains unyielding. "You must submit to an examination. You were bitten, do you understand?"

"Yes, Father." Your answer is swift and subdued. It is nothing short of a miracle that this opportunity is being offered. No one would have questioned the choice to dispose of you for the safety of the village.

"Peace be with you." He bows his head. "We will move you to the church. Try to be still and send your prayers to above. We plead for the Lord's mercy today, should we be fortunate to receive it."

Father nods to two young men hovering nearby and they rush forward as if grateful for a task, bundling a sheet over you and carefully raising you between them. Through the gaps of the frayed fabric you catch sight of rising smoke, and realize with growing horror that the awful stench is that of burned bodies.

You close your eyes tight in hopes of erasing the horrifying image, wincing as their uncoordinated movements jostle your wounds, and try to gather your strength for whatever is coming.

The church seems prepared for your arrival, several of the sisters who accompany the Father moving around to prepare a table with an assortment of items.

You try to be mindful as they hover, murmuring prayers, sprinkling waters and oils over you, clutching your fingers over the silver cross they’ve pressed into your hands, but your mind keeps drifting to the horrors of last night. It’s struggling to remember hazy details, but primarily in a daze over the fact that you’re somehow still alive.

It’s a short moment before you realize the sisters have shuffled out, the cross slack in your hands as your eyes refocus to see Father gazing at you, somber. Fear jumps to your throat at the shadow in his eyes, suddenly fearful to speak. Are you condemned?

His eyes avert from yours. "One last thing."

You jump uncomfortably as he steps closer, his fingers closing on the hem of your nightgown.

Realization strikes you in an instant, paralyzing awareness.

"Father, please no," you beg him softly, panic lighting your eyes. "It did not, I swear on my life."

"Little one, I must." There's an air of discomfort surrounding the old priest now. "This is for your sake as well. We must clear your name of any rumor."

"I'm begging you," you whisper. Shame twists your features, hysteria bubbling hot in your chest as the heat of embarrassment is added to the brew of this nightmare.

He pauses, solemnly reading your face. "It was Shouta?"

You nod, tears beginning to streak down your face to be acknowledging it. You wipe them away hastily, too overwhelmed to realize you’ve only wiped the soil of your gown down your cheeks.

"As long as what you say is true, then I will tell no one."

"Do you promise, Father?" You daren't hope. Shouta and you both had known the damage that could be done to your image if your intimacy had gotten out. He'd persuaded you sweetly at first, then persistently. After a time, you'd reluctantly allowed him, in favor of earning his approval instead of his ire. He was to be your husband after all, ‘til death do you part. So you'd been careful, meeting him discreetly and taking the tonics the neighbor’s eldest daughter had gotten for you at the price of teaching her her letters. She wanted to attend school at the capital and now you’re wildly wondering if she’s even alive.

But for all the care you’d taken, you couldn't hide your shame from a priest.

"You're safe with me, child. Vows taken or not, you are sworn to him. You are a good woman, and you will be a good wife for Shouta. He chose well in you, and this will not reflect on that. The Lord knows your heart; it is not my place to cast judgment."

It had been your parents that chose him, but you remain silent. It would not serve you well to be any more honest now. Your father is away now, Shouta at his side, as they apply for a marriage certificate in the capital. Marriage… The man your father chose is a respected one, the village leader's son. You don't know if you will ever feel love for him, but you do know your life will be lived well at his side, lacking for nothing. You would never dishonor your father by rebuking the life he planned out for you.

Discomfort burns in both of your cheeks as the priest proceeds. As much as you know it to be necessary, it leaves a poor taste in your mouth. But if having the backing of the village's respected priest is what you need to return to your quiet life, then you can suffer this. The last thing you need is the hateful and fearful rumors that you might be with child by a monster.

"It is done. You are well, my dear. Let us see to your wounds."

"Thank you, Father." You can't help but slump in relief, weariness setting in now that your safety is assured.

At his call a couple of sisters reenter the room and immediately begin fussing over you. Father bows and makes his exit, and they promptly strip you of your soiled nightgown. You are not sorry to see it go, the stiff fabric bloody and unsalvageable. As they dispose of your clothing in the hearth, you manage to voice some of the things you’ve been wondering about. They answer softly, informing you that it’s almost been two days since your attack. The priest has been monitoring you, afraid to move your body for fear of worsening your condition. It had been his call to leave you untouched, making no attempt to inspect your wound, to allow your wound to clot. The decision had been a risky one, but it had probably saved your life.

There's profound relief on the women's' faces that eases some of the ordeal, and you allow your eyes to fall closed as they brush a warm, wet cloth over your wounds and skin, content to be in someone else's care even if just for the moment. Your body aches after nearly two days of sleeping on the bare ground. You want nothing more than to fall asleep somewhere comfortable after this. You can’t stop thinking about the blanket your mother had received from her relatives last winter. Thick, soft, and made from animal pelts you hadn’t seen before, it’s the softest thing you’ve ever touched. To fall asleep under that now would be bliss.

Thinking of that blanket has your thoughts wandering towards your mother. You wonder briefly if your parents and Shouta will hear of this incident before their return, or if you will have to tell them yourself. You don't look forward to reliving the experience for their sake.

"Come, young miss. We drew an herbal bath out back. It will be cold, but twas the best we could do."

The water is bracing, but you're more than used to it. Whatever herbs they cast into it tingle along your skin pleasantly, relaxing you, and washing the grime from your skin helps you feel more clean. You can only hope it will help wash away the memory of the demon's touch. His hands were almost like fire. You shiver.

One of the sisters notices and tuts. "Oh poor dear, come now. Let's finish up and get you warm and dry. Father has asked us to accompany you to your home for the evening in case you have need of us."

"Thank you," you murmur softly, standing from the water and taking the clothes they offer you. Despite your wish to be alone, you have no doubt you'll be grateful for their presence. It will be much easier to brush off the old creaking of your home on them moving about instead of letting your fearful imagination run wild.

You wrap the worn shawl around your shoulders more tightly as they accompany you towards your home. There are still men about, busy cleaning up the mess of the attack. Some glance at you warily; others nod and continue with their work. It seems news of your examination is traveling slowly, but the overall mood of the men you pass is enough to make you hopeful that all will be well soon. Everyone looks focused on rebuilding your quiet little village.

"Of those attacked, were there any more survivors?" Beyond the loss of the baker's daughter, you know of no one else who had been lost. You're grateful all of your family had been away for the attack.

The women look forlorn as they exchange glances. "Not many, we're afraid. Most had wounds too deep, others were in danger of turning. There are a fair few missing as well. You were very lucky, miss."

The words feel thin. Lucky is not how you would describe nearly dying, held down and helpless at the hands of a monster—but you suppose there are no good words to describe such a thing.

"I apologize for the mess, we were not expecting visitors." The etiquette slips from your lips automatically as you show them inside. Your home is humble, but well built. Your father works a steady trade, and he saw to it that the house is well-maintained.

To distract yourself you help see to their accommodations, pulling out linens for their bedding. You fear if you remain idle…his voice will haunt your thoughts.

You will not suffer needlessly.

You close the closet door more fiercely than you mean to, chills covering you from head to toe.

How dare that monster say something so horrific. How were you meant to not suffer when he drank from your flesh? The pain of that encounter very well may follow you to the afterlife.

You make your way back to the sitting room to find that the women had made themselves busy stirring the hearth. The warmth is most inviting and you will yourself to relax.

"There isn't much here for now, but there is bread in the kitchen and enough to make a light stew. I can make enough for us all."

The appalled expressions on their faces is almost comical.

"Heavens no!"

"We're here to tend you, miss! You've suffered something terrible, you should be resting."

After their sharp demand, they wave you towards a chair near the fire until you sit, straining your ears to hear the hushed voices as they bustle about your kitchen. They seem to still be worrying for your health and the few others who are in recovery. Your fingers brush delicately against the bandage on your throat, wincing at the lingering pain. You're not used to being taken care of in such a manner, not since your mother had taught you to care for the house and how to prepare meals.

She had gone with your father to the capital, ever the dutiful wife. Before she had left, she had told you to enjoy the few weeks of peace before Shouta's return. She seemed to recognize the lack of personal attachment you felt for the union. This small time for yourself has been a gift from her to you.

It's not long before the attendants return, placing a small bowl of stew in your hands. The vegetable broth is soothing, the added warmth in your stomach making your eyes droop as fatigue settles over you. As they help you to your room you're grateful for their assistance, but you find yourself longing to be alone once more. One of them refastens your window, the one you had climbed out of last night when you’d heard someone enter through your front door. Even after they leave the room, you cannot help yourself from tiptoeing over to the sill and making sure the latch is tight.

You would never be able to sleep without checking for yourself.

The morning comes far more quickly than you'd like. You wake feeling unrested, moving slowly. You’re certain there are unsightly circles under your eyes, but when the ladies ask how you're feeling you fix on a smile and tell them you're feeling much better. There wasn’t much sleep to be had when the echoes of groans filled your ears, and every small shift sent your body aching.

Breakfast is not a big affair, just plain porridge before you send them on their way. Despite the fatigue of your body protesting every step of the way, you spend most of the morning tending the house, clearing out dust, washing the linens, and cleaning the floorboards. Afterwards you sit in the sun pouring through the open window as you eat a light lunch, more tired than usual from your affairs. Sweat beads across your brow from the exertion but you wipe it away without complaint, along with your tears.

It feels like you've not stopped crying since you awoke yesterday afternoon. Any time you find yourself with what should be moments of peace, his groans fill your ears, his breath dusts on your neck and you feel the ghost of a body right behind you. Your wrists still ache from his crushing grip and your neck twinges with pain every other moment. Unable to bear the silence, you heave yourself to your feet and march to the front door with purpose in each step.

Even if you're tired and your chores have finished, surely with everything that's happened there's more work to be done. Wrapping a shawl around your shoulders, you push out the door.

The village is bustling with activity as you make your way toward the main street, but everyone is subdued. Grief is all but tangible in the air, eyes downcast and lips set in frowns. Even the children aren't running about, clinging to their mother's skirts or each other's hands.

You make your way into the market and catch the eye of the young nephew to one of the farmers. He's stopping each passerby and offering something from the basket at his side. Curiously you make your way towards him.

He turns to you as you approach. "Do you need any?" He tilts the basket towards you gently, showing you a mound of eggs. "Uncle said with everythin', folks’ chickens probably wouldn't lay, so he sent me out with the extra. You can have some."

"I don't need any, but thank you. I was actually looking to see if anyone needs my help."

"You could always ask the market marm, 'm sure she'd know," the boy says thoughtfully, "But I heard Mama say the weaver was killed, and the husband has his hands full with the kids and the shop. You could check on him." He pulls a cloth from his pocket and carefully places five eggs in it before tying it. "I was gonna go that way later but here, take these with you, 'm sure he'd 'preciate it."

Thanking him, you accept the makeshift package and your feet carry you towards the weaver's shop. You can hear the wail of an infant before you even open the shop door.

Cautiously entering, you peek around to see the weaver's husband bouncing a toddler on his hip, another child tugging on his trousers as he tries to break up what appears to be an argument between his two eldest. The young boys are screaming at each other, faces ruddy and pinched with anger.

"It’s your turn—"

"I did it yesterday—"

"No you didn’t, you rotten little—"

"Boys!"

A small hand curls around two of your fingers, causing you to startle silently. You look down to see a young girl, no older than four, looking up at you tearfully. You recognize the weaver's youngest daughter and click your teeth in sympathy when she reaches for you, a silent but clear request to be picked up, and haul her into your arms. She clings to you, her soft curls brushing your cheek.

"It's okay, little one," you sigh, adjusting her weight and clearing your throat, making an attempt to make your presence known. Raising your voice is no longer a simple feat. "Excuse me—"

The beleaguered father finally notices you, his eyes filled with frustration at his children's behavior. "Toshi, Gin!" he snaps at last, loud and gruff in a manner that makes both boys freeze and hunch their shoulders. "You know better to behave like that in front of customers, apologize to the lady."

Both boys glance at you and duck their heads, muttering apologies that you don't quite hear as the toddler in the man's grasp begins to wail, frightened by his raised voice.

"I'm sorry, miss, but now might not be a good time. If you'd like to come back I'm sure I can help you find—"

"It's okay sir, I actually came by to see if you might need anything?"

Your words are timid, almost coming off as if you're making a request. His blank stare causes your cheeks to heat up, and you stutter, searching for something else to say. "One of the farmers also sent these eggs. They had some to spare."

A little awkwardly, you hold out the makeshift parcel until he readjusts his hold on the tyke in his arms and takes it from you, appearing just as awkward as you feel. After a short moment, he clears his throat.

“Gin, take this and put it up in the kitchen.” He places a palm on the head of the girl still clinging to his clothing. “Hime, go help your brother. Toshi, take the little one and put him down for a nap please.”

The young girl nods silently and takes Gin’s hand as Toshi takes the youngest. They all trudge off, glancing back at you as they go before they disappear around a corner of the shop.

“Here, I’ll take her,” he offers, but the girl clings to you tighter, whimpering into your neck. “Come now, Yachi.”

A look of consternation crosses his features when she doesn’t listen, tucking herself deeper into your neck. You wince as she presses into your bandages, but you’re quick to assure him. “It’s fine sir, I don’t mind holding her.”

He grunts at that, but relents, eyeing you cautiously. “You’re that girl from the other day, aren’t you? The one that—” he glances at Yachi, “—that the priest visited.”

“Yes, he said everything was well.” You duck your head nervously, but he only shrugs, looking off to the side. Apparently he trusts the word of Father as much as you do.

“What’s yer name?”

“Rumi, sir.”

“Hm. And what is it that you said you came for?”

“To see if there’s anything I might be able to help with. I heard in the market that…” You trail off, glancing down at the child in your arms. You’re not sure how much the little one would understand of what transpired during the attack.

Grief glitters in his eyes, and he appears to be struggling to answer you when the eldest comes tramping back into the room. “We finished Pa. Gin and Hime are playin’ in the room with—”

“Toshi, can you take Yachi? I need to speak with the little miss.” There’s a small break in his voice that you think the elder man hides well, but the seriousness on the boy’s face makes you think twice.

The boy might very well be less than half your age, but he appears to carry himself with responsibility. You assume he gained such a trait as the eldest of his siblings.

“Let’s go Yachi,” his voice is much softer when he speaks to her, “Gin’s telling that story you like. I bet he’d start over if ya asked nice.”

Yachi peeks at him, her eyes still wet, but after a short glance at you, she nods and allows him take her from you. He only struggles with her weight for a second before his step bounces in playful exaggeration and her giggles at his antics carry throughout the shop even after they leave the shop floor.

“You have a very lively family. They seem to get along well.” It’s a paltry attempt to fill the silence that stretches between you, but he still gives a nod of thanks at your words.

“They’ll need to, to get through this,” he mutters gruffly, running a hand through black hair flecked with gray. He’s a well built man, who looks like he’s no stranger to the labor trades.

“I’m sure they’ll—”

“I haven’t told them about their Mama,” he interrupts you suddenly, looking you in the eye.

Your shoulders stiffen as you realize what he’s saying.

“They didn’t see it,” he continues, speaking low in case the children might be trying to listen in. You step closer to help him in this, allowing him to speak even more softly. He unravels the bandage you hadn’t noticed on his forearm, showing you the wound that nearly matches your own. “I didn’t see it. The bastard got to me first, but it wanted her. Hit my head, and I was so out of it that I couldn’t… She got them all hidden away in the pantry before runnin’.”

“I’m so sorry.” Horror and nausea swirls in your gut as you picture the scene, the helplessness of it all.

Shame and misery etch themselves to the lines of his face so deeply it was as if they’d always been there. “I found shreds of her clothing in the morning. Covered in blood. I c-couldn’t tell the little ones, I couldn’t. How do you tell a child their Mama was—” he inhales shakily. “I told them she’s helping the priest, but I think Toshi is beginning to realize what really happened. He’s old enough that I can't hide these things from him.”

"He's a strong boy, I can tell," you murmur softly. Your stomach heaves as you realize she met the end that you so narrowly escaped. That it could have been you, naught left but a puddle of blood for a loved one to discover. Swallowing tightly, you try to keep your voice steady and reassuring. "He'll help you take care of the little ones."

“He shouldn’t have to!” the man snaps fiercely, causing you to flinch noticeably, wincing as the sudden movement twinges in your neck. An awkward expression of regret paints his features. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t right of me—”

“No! It’s fine,” you murmur softly. This man has been through enough. Of course he’s on edge. “Just please, um…” You realize you can’t quite recall his name, though you’re certain you’ve heard it around the village before.

He sighs, softening considerably, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes as he makes an effort to pacify himself. “The name’s Shin, Miss Rumi.”

“Shin, sir, please just let me know what I can do to help you. I’ve nothing else to do with my time but sit at home. I’d rather be useful.”

Shin regards you carefully. “I suppose, if you’re offering… the shop.” He glances around wearily, and you belatedly notice there are half-packed crates and parcels everywhere. “I’m packing everything up, but it’s a lot to handle on my own. Toshi wanted to help but I need him with the littles ones.”

“Of course.”

Grateful for something to do you set to work, carefully folding textiles and lining boxes with spools of thread. Shin works beside you, mostly silent save for some sparse instruction when you lose track of where to start next, wrapping a series of tools and devices with purposes that escape you. He’s so delicate with them that you are certain of their importance to the weaver’s craft. There’s so much to be done, you’re not sure that he would ever have managed to do this without assistance. When the light begins fading, only half the shop has been put away.

“Rumi.” Shin glances outside, his eyes shadowed as they fix on you. “You should get on home before it gets any darker.”

Anxiety prickles at your skin at the idea of being out after dark. Alongside the obtrusive fear of what creatures might still reside in the shadows of your little town, you also don’t wish to be caught by rumour, staying overnight with the now unbonded man, so you gather yourself to go. Hastily giving your goodbyes and promises to return, you dash out the shop door and hurry back down the streets toward your home. The shadows of the setting sun seem more imposing tonight, and the streets are already quiet despite the long lingering orange light. It leaves you unnerved, and the tension refuses to sink from your limbs until the front door is securely locked behind you.

The house is too quiet now, and you find yourself wishing for the sisters’ company as you go about what has been your nightly routine since your parents and Shouta left for the capital. You make a sparse dinner for yourself, having neglected to go to the market this morning, clean up, and draw yourself a bath, spending the extra effort to heat the water. While the fire crackles you carefully unwrap the bandage from your neck, unable to look at the bruising of your throat, the redness of your wound. You’re quick to apply the salve the sisters left you, and cover it with a fresh wrap, tears threading your lashline at the persistent pain.

It’s an effort to distract yourself. You know it, as you spend extra time making sure you’re entirely clean, scrubbing as much grime from under your nails as you can until the water grows lukewarm, and eventually cold as you sit, pondering. Shin had kept a careful hold of his grief today, but such a deep emotion can never be completely buried. Your heart aches for the man, despite how little you knew him and his children. You wish there was something you could say that would soothe his heart, if even a little.

You wish your mother were here. She might know what to say to a grieving husband. You have such little experience with such a thing, but your mother knows more of the world than you, has lived much longer. Surely she’s comforted at least one grieving person.

Sighing, you step from the basin, and begin to dry and dress yourself for bed. There’s nothing left to look forward to tonight, no warm wishes for your dreams from your mother, no kiss on the cheek from father—something you’d complained about every day since you became of age, but now you miss both terribly. As you settle in your bed for the night, tucking your covers more tightly around you, you’re grateful for the fatigue that now rests over your body more securely than any blanket. It numbs the ache of your healing wounds and carries you to sleep faster than any fairy.

a/n: next chapter we get to meet one of the support leads, i wonder who it will be? :3

Reblogs are appreciated!

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk series #series::ADiT

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my-sleepy-head · 10 months

Text

I wrote something!

A few months after RE5, Wesker drags himself, severely weakened, to Chris’s house after somehow surviving his ordeal with the volcano. He didn’t know where else to go after all that and being presumed dead again. Chris can’t stand the thought of watching him die again.

(The AU its part of is still a work in progress and the prompt came from a Chrisker bingo thing but I wrote something and I’m happy with it and so I share it.)

(If you don’t want to go to Ao3 under the cut.)

Chris was sitting in his living-room trying to settle down for the night when he heard a knock on his door. It was weak, something telling him the person knocking wasn’t feeling well. As he got closer and heard the distinct sound of someone collapsing against his door he hurried up a bit.

Opening it he froze however, he recognized who was shakily looking up at him but something was horribly wrong. “Wesker?”

“I didn’t know where else to go… I…” the blond looked awful; severely underweight, leaving his face gaunt and eye sunken in, his hair had gotten long but also seemed to be thinning and he looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. A rather angry looking burn was also visible on the right side of his body, blood seeping out of where the skin was breaking and soaking his clothes with it. Chris didn’t know where the blond had found these clothes, wearing a, previously, white T-shirt and grey sweatpants, but it didn’t matter. He was in critical condition and his trembling frame was struggling to remain upright.

Chris frowned when Wesker flinched away from his hand when he touched him. “How are you alive? What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to properly surrender… I’ve been defeated… I accept my punishment.” The blond looked down as his spoke, not wanting to actually face Chris, not wanting to see the pitty etched on his face. His breathing was laboured, he was completely out of breath and beyond exhausted.

“We can talk about that in a minute, lets get you inside ok?” Albert winced as he was helped to his feet, whatever strength had allowed him to even get to Chris was completely gone, his vision was spotty and blurry and his stomach lurched as he was helped upright, causing him to moan in pain.

“You look awful… should I try and call someone to help you? You need help with those burns…”

Wesker didn’t answer, suddenly starting to gag, bile spewing from his lips and onto himself and Chris before he could stop it.

“You really need help! I’ll call Rebecca, she might know what to do.” The brunet said as he tightened his grip on Wesker slightly, he’d have to get clean clothes for the both of them now.

Albert was panting slightly, lungs wheezing as he tried to take in air and sweat making his face sticky despite how dehydrated he was. “I don’t feel well…”

“Then lets try and make you feel better ok?”

Wesker nodded as he let Chris guide him further into the house. He trusted the younger man, he had to if he wanted to live.

He’d been placed in the spare bedroom, one of those long handcuffs connecting him to the bedframe so he seemed like he was contained to an outsider. With how horrible he felt the handcuff wasn’t actually needed. Chris was by his side, holding the restrained hand in his own when Rebecca entered.

“I see you got his burns bandaged like I told you to.” She sighed softly, furrowing her brow as she got close enough to see her former captain’s face better, touching it softly. “He’s fighting to remain conscious.” She could tell from his eyes.

“He’s in so much pain. He’s got burns all along his side and on his legs, one of his legs looks horrible so I can’t begin to imagine just how much pain he’s actually in. He threw up from it when he got here, he sounds like he’s struggling to breath.”

“Wesker? I’m going to try and help you ok? I’m going to administer some painkillers and a saline drip with an IV. We need to keep you hydrated.” She frowned when the blond couldn’t answer her, seemingly unable to even see her. Hearing him hiss slightly as the needles were put in place she gently rubbed circles onto his exposed skin, whispering reassurance. “I’m administering the fluids now. Stay with us.”

Chris couldn’t help but feel somewhat helpless as he carefully helped Rebecca change the bandages on Wesker’s injuries. It had been a week already since Albert had showed up and it wasn’t any nicer then first applying the bandages, even though it was healing properly. There wasn’t any signs of infection either, which was good.

“You look like you’re thinking.” Rebecca said, carefully swapping out the IV bags on their holder.

“He’s been unconscious for a few days now.” Chris sighed, trying not to cry now, not wanting tears to fall into the injuries littering his former captain, former lover’s body. “He looks so weak Rebecca. He’s basically in a coma, he’s covered in burns, his leg looks horrible. You had to put a tube down his throat so he’s still breathing.”

“I know. But he’s alive and he’s responding well to the medication he’s on. I know it was a risky decision to call me but you did the right one.”

“I hope you’re right… what do we do with him now though? We can’t let the BSAA know yet, I don’t want them experimenting on him.”

“He is indeed too weak to withstand most tests.”

“I mean in general. I… I’ve been reading the files we have about him and his siblings, what Umbrella did to him.”

“You’ve been doing that while supervising him?”

“Yes.”

“I see. We’ll figure it out Chris, I promise.”

Jill had come to visit a couple days later, standing near the doorway even though she knew Wesker wasn’t waking up any time soon.

“So he crawled his way out of the volcano in Africa and somehow dragged his way here to you? And his wounds didn’t heal while he did this?”

“Rebecca says his wounds probably did heal quite a bit but that they’re so severe it doesn’t look like they did. He said he came here to surrender properly and accept his punishment. Some small part of me thinking he requires some sort of sentencing.”

“And the rest of you?”

“The rest of me thinks he’s suffered enough, that if we truly have to ‘punish him’ we should have him work for us. But I think he’s suffered enough.”

“Yeah… just based off of what we know of other people who survived being burnt by lava I’m tempted to believe your judgment. Hell, he got rocket launchers to the face! If he was able to survive that and still trust you he might be a useful informant.” Jill was observing the unconscious man, the heart monitor Rebecca had brought beeping at a constant pace.

“That’s… Jill you saw the files about ‘Project W’. You know what I mean.”

“We can discuss this once I’ve recovered more, ok? I’m still upset with him.” It didn’t stop her from feeling sympathy for Chris as she knew he had loved Wesker.

Chris was reading a book when Albert woke up properly, weakly looking at him after opening his eyes.

“Look who decided he wasn’t leaving the world of the living after all. How’re you holding up?”

“I’m in so much pain…” Wesker huffed, taking in a proper deep breath. “and what’s that insufferable noise?”

“Heart monitor. You were intubated temporarily to help you keep breathing too but Rebecca said your lungs had healed sufficiently so she removed it yesterday. You are however on oxygen.”

“So that’s why I have a sore throat…” he weakly moved his non bandaged arm to maybe touch the tube at his nose but huffed slightly at the feeling of the cuff and chain and put his arm back down. “Got me restrained, smart.”

“You taught me well… you know, I’m actually quite glad you’re alive?”

“What? Missed me or something?”

“Yeah, I did miss you. If I’m to be honest I almost slipped into a depressive episode when I thought you were dead.”

“Chris…”

“I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you despite you betraying us and it was always so damn hard to have to fight you because of this. You and Barry were the only two I could actually turn to for comfort and a sense of security when we were in Raccoon City. Loosing you that first time, you betraying us, it hurt me. And thinking I killed you in that Volcano was just as harsh on me.”

“Chris, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m so sorry.” Wesker could feel tear rolling down his cheeks as he weakly reached for his former pointman’s hand, the healing skin of his injured arm uncomfortable as he did so but he wanted to touch Chris. It almost felt like too little too late now but if Chris was confessing to him… “I still love you too… I’m so sorry I put you through all of this.” Feeling the brunet gently take his hand Albert turned his head to look at him.

Chris could see the exhaustion so clearly in those catlike eyes, the red of the irises oddly comforting despite how unnatural they looked. He gently wiped the tears away from Wesker gaunt features, the emaciated frame making his chest ache. “If you’re willing to put in some effort we could maybe try our hand at a relationship again? Would allow me to keep an eye on you.”

“That would be nice… quick request however. Could you please tell someone to up the painkiller dosage if I’m even on anything… I might have woken up and I may be talking but I think I’m about to pass out again. Everything hurts so much.”

“I’ll let Rebecca know.” Chris said before letting go of Wesker’s hand and getting up from his seat.

“Thank you.”

“Is that better?”

“Yes.” Albert sighed softly as he felt the painkillers taking effect properly, actually reducing his pain now. He closed his eyes gently as he felt gentle touches to his face. He was still absolutely exhausted but he wasn’t going to complain, being able to feel Chris holding him. The feeling was foreign to him and he craved more, more gentle touches, more of his hand being held and more soft kisses to his forehead. He was still too weak to reciprocate the affection but soon.

He knew Rebecca was in the room, he could feel her touching him with a similar tenderness as she checked his bandaged arm over. “We can still wait a couple hours before changing these again but we should still do this sooner then later.” She said before speaking directly to him. “You’ll have to cooperate with us for this Wesker, your bandages need to be changed.”

“Understood.” The blond said, glancing down at himself. He could see that some of the bandages were starting to look stained.

He felt safe falling asleep that night, Chris gently holding him and warming up his frigid skin. He could get use to this.

#chrisker #resident evil #albert wesker #Chris Redfeild #The Phoenix of Uroboros #(that might be the AU name)

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