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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

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Crown of Antlers

Chapter 3: Courtly Manner

summary:

The Court of Rivendell

(ao3 link)

(masterpost)

(4,397 words)

The Court of Rivendell is regarded as playing host to some of the brightest minds and most silver of tongues that their generation has to offer. Admittedly, the use of the term generation is used rather loosely, in that those speaking are alive to witness the current Court, as many of its members are old enough that they are not, on a technicality, still a part of the current generation. But they are still some of the best minds, and those brains are still in working order.

It is expected for the advisers of the Elvenking to be smart; it would be a disgusting insult to serve the God of Wisdom and be nothing more than a fool, after all, but there is also the very real possibility that each of the elves occupying the seats of the Court only rose to those positions through their wealth and the nature of their birth. And, perhaps, before the reign of the current Elvenking, that may have been the case.

Scott, however, much prefers the way his Court treads a little more softly in their actions, completely aware of how easily they may be thrown from their position- discarded for someone that provides a better insight that they do, and does so without embarrassing the entirety of the empire in front of several delegations from each of the other empires.

For that particular incident, he had almost been tempted to make a public spectacle of that man- to introduce the other empires to the way Rivendell slips through the holes in the law he himself created, finding the loops that he may exploit in order to continue with many of the older traditions he still favours but were deemed as having poor taste.

(It had been an irritating part of the charter that he had drawn up for the other empires in a hurried attempt at establishing peace; it had also been towards the start of his rule, and as such there are far fewer loopholes than he would have preferred, limiting him rather considerably in what power he is able to exercise when he chooses.)

The only reason that man had not been disposed of immediately had been due to his several of his advisers advising him not to do that, lest he upset the House Blossom representatives- the stability of the empires resting upon a singular, pacifist empire is a rather interesting decision, especially as several of the other empires are so incredibly volatile. However, he is now, though only moderately, glad that he decided to restrain that particular urge; giving into such violence, in front of honoured guests no less, would have been fodder for several centuries of horror stories revolving around Rivendell and its barbaric elves, and such stories only become more twisted with time so he dreads to even consider what the state of them would be now.

Still, based on the respect that is placed upon those within the Elvenking’s Court, you would perhaps have thought those members themselves would hold at least a modicum of respect for themselves. Just a small fraction, even, enough that they do not embarrass themselves publicly, where everyone can observe and form rumours about how poorly the best of their empire behaved. It is not the example Scott wishes to set for the people of his empire.

Yet, as always, Scott finds himself apparently hoping for too much and overestimating the self-preservation instinct that his Court holds. Which is none, apparently.

He is not sure how word managed to reach his Court so quickly, because there is not a single doubt in his mind of what the source of this behaviour is, but one look at Ailwi has the guard folding, glancing away with an expression that is nothing short of intensely guilty. Just that is enough to incriminate his guards as those that relayed the message to his Court, even if Alsof refuses to be cowed by his stare he knows it was her- Ailwi would never dare to send such a message ahead, especially as he told the both of them, specifically, not to do so.

He glances back towards where his advisers are currently crowding, just inside of the gates of the city, as though them waiting within the walls makes this spectacle any less of an incident he will no doubt have to address at a later date. He just hopes that the damages to their images is minimal, and that news of this doesn't reach the other empires (oh, who is he kidding? News of this is certainly reaching the other empires).

Just as he thinks it cannot get any worse, surely it cannot, one of his advisers chooses to break free of the herd, bouncing forward and waving both xir arms at him, the words xe shout to him are lost on the wind, but Scott is rather good at reading people, and he can tell that xe are certainly not just overjoyed to see him. It takes a significant amount of patience and self-restraint for him not to snap at his adviser and remind xem just how many citizens are watching the entirety of his Court make fools out of themselves.

“Personally,” Aeor Himself is not physically present, but the voice echoing throughout his head is enough to remind Scott that his God is annoying and has no life outside of watching over his every move, only deigning to pull some of His influence back from his mind as Scott snaps at Him, throwing up slightly stronger mental walls. “I do believe xe are the next to go, though, please, do correct me if I am mistaken.”

He is, but Scott is not about to respond to such a question. Mainly because Aeor can already grasp the answer from his mind with little difficulty, and also because speaking to himself as he walks towards his embarrassment of a Court will not do any favours for his public image, even if it is assumed that he is speaking to one of his personal guards rather than himself.

“Ingolmondur.” He greets, stopping just beyond the gates. His adviser straightens as xe realise xe are being addressed, shuffling xir wings. It does very little to make xem look less like xe have just emerged from xir study for the first time in several days- the red rimming xir eyes and the general unkemptness of xir appearance (barely hidden by the cloak xe had, very obviously, hurriedly thrown on) are the obvious factors pointing to such a thing. “I do hope you have a rather good reason for making such a fool out of yourself when you could very easily seek me out once I have returned properly.”

“Such a thing could not wait until you had properly returned,” xe poke him in the chest with an accusing finger, though it is hardly done with much force behind it and he doesn't even blink at it anymore, far too used to xir mannerisms by now. “Your idea of properly returning is to disappear for a week, refusing to speak to anyone until you have had sufficient time to consider the events of the meeting. Such a thing will not do! Especially when you made such an impulsive decision- which you weren't even going to inform us of, I presume?”

“I would have informed you.” He assures them. He is unable to enter Rivendell’s capital city, blocked by the line of his advisers, eager to see and speak with him. Though they seem rather content to use Cormac as their mouthpiece for now.

“And when would that information have been revealed?” Xir wings fluff behind them in clear agitation, dark feathers bristling as xe continue to stare at him. “Once the current Codfather is long-dead and buried? Or, perhaps, even longer?”

“You have been alone for too long,” he pushes xem back with a hand to the chest, and xe go with it, allowing him to step forward, actually entering the city. “Your literature has clearly gotten to you, tell me, what has Leukos been giving you?”

“Leukos has not been giving me anything, sire.” Xir frown makes xir brow crinkle. “And perhaps we should begin to discuss your own loneliness if you stoop to such a level as to bring up the material I consume in my free time?”

“I am not stooping,” Aeor’s chiming laughter rings around his head and he frowns a little deeper. “I am simply speaking to you on a similar level.”

“If I may,” another of his advisers steps forward, bright hair flashing in the light as they step forward, looking between him and Cormac. “Sire, perhaps it would be best to move this discussion beyond the streets, perhaps to a formal meeting room?”

“I do believe that would be best.” Scott agrees with her before Ingolmondur can make any further comment, though xir responding scowl is more than enough for him to glean their feelings on the decision. “As much as I loathe the very idea of stepping into a meeting room just after leaving one, this matter seems to be something that should be resolved immediately.”

His tail flicks over the ground behind him, skimming across the smooth stone; clear of any obstacles. He steps back, folding his arms neatly behind his back, watching as his Court’s thoughts begin to process, realisation flashing across the faces of the few that have more than a fraction of their brain working. “I shall meet you there, please try not to keep me waiting.”

Ice flashes around him, swirling around his feet in a wave that would be dizzying to anyone but him. He hardly even sways on his feet as the ice retreats, leaving him in his main meeting chamber. There is a small pattern of frost on the floor around him, spiralling out in an intricate design that is never the same, no matter how many times he does it.

Aeor watches him from the doorway as he seats himself, pulling his chair back from the head of the table - though whether it is actually the head of the table is debatable, as the table itself is round.

“If you have something to say, I implore you to say it before they make their way here.”

“It will take them some time to reach you yet,” Aeor says. Which just tells Scott that the old deer is actually rather forgetful; two of his advisers have wings that they can use to their advantage, and they have very few qualms over squeezing themselves through the narrow windows just below the roof. “And what I wish to discuss with you is not a lengthy matter.”

“Then you may as well get on with it.” He takes his circlet from his head, smoothing down his slightly ruffled hair after he sets it on the table with a small clink. The wind on the returning path had not been kind to him, nor did the icy gale of his teleportation do much for his windswept appearance.

“I have smote elves for better behaviour than you are currently displaying.”

“I am rather certain those elves were not your only connection to the mortal realm,” he twirls his circlet in his hands before he rests it on his head once more, nestled comfortably between his antlers. “But please, do feel free to sever that connection- the scrambling of the Palace to find the culprit would be more than enough amusement for me.”

Aeor levels him with a firm stare that would be a glare if the deer had eyebrows to frown with. Still, He does a rather impressive job of it before He looks away again. “Your alliance with the Codfather,” Aeor says, after a moment. “It is…interesting.”

“It is what you wanted, is it not?”

“Yes, it is. However, I had not expected him to approach you with such a manner.”

“I get it,” he shrugs, tail flicking back and forth as he counts the seconds down. Less than a minute until the first few begin to arrive, unless they have chosen to move as a pack. “He considers me as dangerous, I was an unknown factor in an equation he could not fully see. Yet he still knew what he wished to do, and such a conviction was more than enough to convince me of his terms.”

“I have nothing against the Codfather.” Aeor states, with the tone of voice that reveals that, actually, He does have something against the Codfather.

Scott sighs, running a hand over his face. “Is it truly so bad for you to be shut from one mind? It is hardly as though you need an influence over him- every other being in existence can have influence over him, and yet it is you that has been shut out. Did you truly piss-”

The doors slam open and Scott snaps his jaw shut, sitting up slightly straighter in his throne. Several of his advisers are bent at the waist, hands braced against their legs as they attempt to regain their breath, no doubt from the marathon they have just completed to reach him so quickly.

“Please, do not strain yourselves for me,” he says, just to watch as several of them aim glares at him before they realise who it is they are glaring at. Alsof continues to glare at him from the back of the herd, nudging the lagging advisers further in before closing the doors behind herself. Ingolmondur takes xir seat at his left, and Neithaor sits at his right, scroll already unfurled and quill poised to begin taking notes.

They shiver beside him, their hand gripping at their quill a little tighter before relaxing again. She is the youngest of his advisers, younger than even Ailwi and only just beyond the age of majority. Still, they had completed their studies at the Academy by this time, and to allow such a promising mind to go to waste would truly be an unforgivable crime.

Cormac does not shiver- xe have spent far too long in his company to react to the air of ice he carries with him. The rest of his advisers take their seats with the scraping of chairs over stone, only once they are all sat and settled does he clap his hands together, casting a sharp smile over the assembled group.

“So, my dear advisers,” he can hear Cormac groan from his left. “What was it that you wished to discuss?”

“You know very well what it was that we wished to discuss.” Eilianther speaks first, adjusting their glasses as they talk. A nervous habit they have had since their childhood, not something they have been able to break. “Playing the fool does not look good on you.”

“Perhaps I should choose them as my next Champion,” Aeor muses. Scott can hear the sound of hooves over the stone, though Aeor’s visible form does not make an appearance. “They are rather straight-forward, incredibly clever too. Though,” Aeor’s voice turns considering. “The addition of antlers to wings seems like a little too much. Only that their form would become rather cluttered, and it would be-”

He mentally waves Aeor’s voice away, putting it to the back of his head as he focuses on smiling diplomatically at Eilianther from across the table. It is perhaps a little more strained than it usually is, but the only people to blame for his less than stellar mood would be those currently staring at him. To return from a meeting with the other empires, with no meal other than the small breakfast he had that morning, is nothing short of exhausting.

“Playing the fool does not look good on anyone, my dear Librarian,” he tilts his head to the side, ears twitching at the sound of gently ringing gold filling the room. The decorations he wears on his antlers are truly not worth the annoyance they bring with them. “Unless, of course, you choose to wear the bright colours of a jester. However, I will not dance around the topic, for that will bring nothing but frustrations to all those involved - something that I wish to avoid for now.”

“You're dancing around the topic with your flowery words anyway.” Cormac mutters beside him too. He chooses to ignore xir words.

“Yes, the message you received ahead of my arrival is true, an alliance has been agreed upon with the Codfather.”

“How could you do such a thing!” Rimdor slams their hands on the table, hair swinging around their face as they glare at him. “You are well aware of how unstable the Cod Empire is, and yet you choose, willingly, to make an alliance with such a volatile ruler? Have you gone mad, sire? Or are we the only sane ones remaining in a world of madmen?”

“I can assure you, Rimdor,” they sink back into their seat as he speaks, “that I have not lost my mind. The alliance is beneficial to both sides of the agreement, and we have been looking to expand our alliances recently, have we not?”

“Remaining uninvolved in the matters of mortals has served us well so far,” Holiilo grumbles, crossing her arms. Neithaor’s quill scribbles beside him, and he glances over to their page, finding them dutifully taking the notes, easily keeping up. “I do not see why we should involve ourselves further.”

“Because it is to our benefit,” he soothes. “The other empires regard us as aloof and cold, and that is hardly beneficial to our image; maintaining such a reputation will only lead to issues in the future, and these issues could develop into tensions and then, in turn, conflict. Building rapport with one of the most volatile empires also has another benefit.”

“And what might that be, sire?”

“It is also one of the friendliest empires. The codfolk, and the seafolk that choose to join them on land, are the same as the waves; they change with the time and the opportunities that are presented to them. To remain rigid with the environment they live in would cause nothing but disaster.”

“I presume,” Neithaor pipes up from beside him, her ears tinting pink as she realises all eyes in the room are now focused upon her. “I, ahm, I presume that you are also rather pleased with this alliance due to its close connections with several other empires.”

“Exactly.” He nods, and Neithaor ducks her head back down, scribbling down a few more notes. “The Codfather sits as the figurehead for one of the strongest alliances outside of the House Blossom union.”

“I still dislike it.” Cormac adds, though xir opinions on the matter have hardly been quiet so far. “The Codfather is an unknown quantity, even his own people know very little about him.”

“Much of the same could be said in regards to me,” Scott reminds them. “I am an unknown quantity to many of the people here.”

“But that is due to you never leaving your rooms.” Cormac nudges his leg beneath the table pointedly. Which is rather hypocritical of xem, though he does not bother to point it out- such a thing would be nothing more than a waste of breath. “The Codfather is unknown not due to the scarcity of his appearances, he is constantly with his people. His home is among theirs and he does the same tasks as they all do- he is unknown because nothing is known of him.”

“To mingle with his people is not a crime,” he frowns. “It is the culture of codfolk to work as a community, to suggest he distance himself would be rude on several different levels.”

“I heard that he doesn't even have parents in the empire,” Rimdor murmurs, though all of the gathered elves hear them anyway. They smile as the attention lands back on them, and Neithaor glances at him, as though questioning whether to continue writing. He shakes his head, and they set their quill down. “They just found him one day, washed up on the shoreline.”

Rimdor needs to get away from the infirmary far more often, obviously. Spending their time around sick elves, all of whom have nothing better to do with their time than gossip, has obviously influenced their habits far more than he had previously thought.

“I heard that he walked free from the ocean,” Tawaren adds, breaking the silence they had held so far. Scott had thought they simply were not going to involve themselves, but his advisers live to prove him wrong, apparently. “None of them knew what to do, for he just walked free of the ocean as though he had been born from the waves- just manifested, fully formed in front of the few codfolk on the shoreline.”

“And then the previous Codfather took him in!” Rimdor takes over the story, pulling the focus back to themselves. “He was taken in, and it was never spoken of again. No complaints when he was taken as the previous Codfather’s apprentice and chosen as his successor, not even when there were several other candidates that had been vying for the position since birth.”

“I do believe it would have been their parents vying for the position,” he adds, which seems to make them realise that, yes, he is still here and listening to them discuss their newest ally like this. Rimdor doesn't even have the decency to look properly embarrassed, setting their jaw.

“The point being,” Cormac says, “that he is still an unknown factor, and that makes me hesitant to trust him.”

“You are hesitant to trust everyone, Ingolmondur,” Scott reminds. “It is not as though being distrusted by you is a special privilege.” Neithaor chuckles beneath her breath at that, noting it down in the minutes.

“I still dislike him.” Cormac decides on, crossing xir arms. “His alliance is strong, I will give you that, and there are potential benefits to becoming his ally, yes. But those alliances he already has, his longer standing ones, are just as able to turn on you if this alliance turns sour.”

“It will not.” He says, voice firm. “We are meeting two days from now to confirm the exact details of this alliance; Eilianther, between now and then I wish to meet with you to discuss a contract to be drawn up. One has already been sealed,” he holds a hand up to maintain the silence, sensing the way it almost breaks at his words, “and the Codfather will hardly choose to betray our agreement when I have something so valuable.”

“Sire,” Leukos sounds almost disappointed in him, but there is a small amount of amusement in their eyes as they look at him. “Please tell me you didn't.”

“That would depend on what you are asking me?”

“Did you learn the Codfather’s name?” Leukos asks, blunt as always.

“Of course,” he grins, “how else would I ensure the stability of this alliance? And the knowledge of such a name is always so rewarding, especially when they hold such power in their position.”

Leukos sighs. “You truly need to find better ways to amuse yourself than toying with those you find interesting.”

“I am hardly toying with him- such a thing would imply that I sought him out first. And yet he chose to approach me with a deal, despite knowing what it would potentially entail.”

“Sire, I do not wish to disrespect you,” such a statement always means he is about to be disrespected, “but you have a certain…type when it comes to these people.”

“The Codfather is no idiot,” he states, already knowing where Leukos’ trailing thoughts were going. His advisers are looking back and forth between him and the Librarian as though it is a particularly entertaining whatever-match (he hardly keeps up with the names of the sports Gilded Helianthia invents, though he does know this one involves hitting balls with wire nets). “He is more than aware of his surroundings, and possesses mental capabilities that are impressive, even to my standards.”

Neithaor mutters something beside him, something that Scott will pretend he did not hear for her sake, but it makes Tawaren laugh all the same. They choke it off after a moment, attempting to cover it with a cough.

“I appreciate your advice,” he stands from his seat, nudging his seat back slightly as he does so. “But for once I will not be heeding your advice. I am comfortable in my own decision; I have plans that you are not yet privy to, but I must ask that you trust me on this.”

“As long as it does not bring conflict to our doorstep, I will step back from this matter.” Cormac decides. Xe still do not look pleased, feathers ruffled, but xe meet his eyes when he looks at xem. “It shall not harm our empire, right, sire?”

“Of course not,” he smiles. “I would hardly be a good emperor if I brought conflict after so many centuries of peace.”

“Let us hope that peace can remain for centuries more.” Cormac says, standing as well. “Good evening to you, I shall be returning to my office.”

“Oh, yes,” his call halts Cormac in xir tracks, the other advisers freezing from where they had begun to stand from their seats, all eyes resting upon him. “Make sure you each have formal attire suitable for a wedding, the invite should be arriving within the next few days; I would hate to leave any of you behind for the event.”

He sweeps past Cormac, grinning at xem as he steps out into the hallway.

“Sire?” Neithaor’s voice rings out behind him. “Sire! You cannot just say that and then disappear! Come back!” He ignores their calls, nodding to both Alsof and Ailwi, dismissing them from their duties as he begins to walk back to his rooms.

He shall sleep like the dead this evening, he is certain, for there is nothing more exhausting than dealing with meetings. One is enough, two is far more than is necessary.

“Two meetings is hardly enough to be considered torturous,” Aeor chimes in. Scott shoves the mental presence away as hard as he can, ignoring Aeor’s laugh at his actions.

“It is when everyone is an idiot.” He mutters, only to himself. Aeor’s presence was long gone before he even uttered the first syllable.

#juno.writes #crown of antlers au #empires smp #scott smajor #empires smp fic #empiressmp #empires scott #empires smp s1 #empires smp season 1 #flower husbands #esmp scott #esmp s1

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hockeynoses · 1 year

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hi! could we possibly get more messy steve? maybe he has a cold and is experiencing allergies on top of it? you don’t have to write this if you don’t want to, i’m just obsessed with your work honestly ❤️

Title: Smokin’ in the Boys’ Room

Summary: Steve’s at school with a bad cold. A classmate has some perfume that he’s allergic to, and he has to escape to the bathroom to snz his head off in peace. Turns out, Eddie is skipping class and is already in the stall next to him.

Rating: 18+. Only one mention of below-the-belt stuff. Eddie has the kink.

Length: 2.7k.

Warnings: Mess! (What the prompt says.) 😈

Notes: I had this idea of a pre-canon Steddie where they’re both still in high school. This characterization of Steve goes directly against what I wrote in my other fic where he’s totally fine snzing in front of classmates. This version probably makes more sense. 😅

Although he and his friends usually sat in the back of the classroom, Steve was especially grateful for it today. He’s hoping the other students will keep their eyes to themselves and not have a reason to pay him any particular attention. Unfortunately, he’s in the midst of a terrible head cold, and his dad had drilled into him that taking sick days was a weakness. So here he is in the back of the class, trying not to turn into a sneezy mess.

He feels disgusting. He’s doing his best to hide his illness from the other students and not attract any unwanted attention. A tough feat, when his nose is bright pink and he’s so stuffed up that he has to breathe through his mouth. It’s not a good look. Too frequently, he has to attempt to sniff up the congestion in his nose, clogged and squeaking. His sinuses are practically throbbing at this point, but he doesn’t want to blow his nose in front of the class. He can only imagine how gross and embarrassing that would be. No, he has an image to uphold.

He's trying to stifle any sneezes that happen to sneak their way out. The small packet of tissues he’d brought with him is almost empty, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do when they run out. At least with those, he has something to wipe his nose with other than his sleeve or his hand. He’s counting down the minutes until he can escape to go blow his nose in the bathroom, or anywhere with a modicum of privacy. Tommy and Carol are being chill for now, but he doesn’t want to press his luck and have them start in on him for being a plague rat.

His thoughts are interrupted by the telltale tingle in his sinuses, and he has just enough time to get a tissue from the packet and muffle a sudden “K’nxxgt!” into it. Giving the tiniest blow, he’s still dismayed by how messy it is, wiping his nostrils clean and stuffing the wet tissue in his pocket.

For the last half hour of class, they’re given time to work on their group project. “Working” is a strong word to describe what’s actually happening. They’re mostly just messing around, shooting the shit, and agreeing that they can probably throw this project together a day or two before it’s due and call it good. Jessica is in their group as well, and she, Tommy, and Carol are currently gossiping about their fellow classmates. Steve’s too drained and distracted to contribute much today.

His nose starts to run again, and he wipes it on his shirt sleeve as covertly as possible, once again trying to snuffle up some congestion. It doesn’t really work, and in fact, serves to shift the pressure in his sinuses in a way that has him gearing up for another sneeze.

He panics, fumbling with the packet of tissues for something to contain it, and he silently curses, realizing it's his last one. Better make it count, then. The sneeze erupts from him so suddenly that he barely has time to cover, but thank god he does. This one’s too powerful to stifle, and he gasps right before a rough, messy, “ha-AETSSHHHoo!” is released into the soft cotton.

He stills for a second, face still covered, and notices a few heads turn his way. Tommy gives him a half-hearted, “Dude, gross,” before smirking and continuing his conversation with the girls.

“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, before mopping his face up and hiding the tissue away. Now he was truly fucked, and would have to stifle for the rest of the period. Wishing he could have stayed home today, he rests his head in his arms on his desk and tries to zone out for a while.

He manages to get a few moments of rest, although leaning forward like this isn’t doing his clogged nose any favors. He still has to sniff up the mess dripping from his nose every so often, hoping the sound is muffled in his arms. At least this way he can wipe his nose on his sleeve and no one can see him.

Distantly, through the fog in his brain, he hears Carol and Jessica talking about cosmetics or something. Their shrill, excited voices are starting to make his head hurt. He peeks out through a gap in his arms and watches as Carol says, “Oh wait! I almost forgot; I brought that sample for you today!” She reaches inside her purse and pulls out a small vial of what he’s assuming can only be perfume. “I didn’t like how it smelled on me, so here, you can try it.” She hands it over to Jessica, who thanks her.

Steve groans into his arms. He’s allergic to like half the fragrances in existence, most of them either giving him a headache or sending him into a flurry of itchy sneezes. This had better not be one of them. He’s just hoping she won’t – aaand she’s spraying it directly into the air in front of her and wafting her wrist through it. Perfect. The movement scatters the mist in the air, most of it dispersing towards him. He steels himself, bracing for the worst.

The smell hits him and he sits up, waving a hand in front of his face, saying, “Jessica, what the hell?” His eyes are starting to water already. He tries to cover his face from the contaminated air, but the damage is done. Inhaling a plume of the strong-smelling perfume, he feels a deep itch settle into his sinuses. Shit, this is going to be bad.

The girls both give him a look, Jessica saying, “Jeez, Steve, you’re so sensitive,” and rolling her eyes.

“Oh I’b sorry,” he says, angrily cupping his hand around his nose, “Itd’s dnot like I can control what I’b allergic to! Hep-tissh! Hih’chmm!” he pinches his nostrils shut and stifles both sneezes into his hand, followed by a frustrated exhale. His fingers come away wet and he wipes them on his jeans, giving a syrupy sniffle.

“You okay, man?” Tommy asks.

“I d-don’t- heh- I don’t hih’kXXT! Ha-pssht! Ugh.” Sniffling, he wipes his nose with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of moisture that he wipes on his pants again. “I thigk I should probably go. Eh-ITSSH! Ah…hah-RRSSSHuh!” The last two burst from him, desperately caught in his cupped hands. He can feel the slimy mess in his palms, and there’s no way he can take his hands away from his face without it being absolutely humiliating.

Standing up to leave, he says to the teacher, “I’b goigg to the bathroob,” before walking out as casually as he can manage, one hand still cupped around his face. He hears her confused acquiescence as he flees out the door and into the mercifully empty hallway. “ihhh…huh-TCHHHOO!” He curls forward as another sneeze scrapes out of him, echoing down the hall. It adds to the mess in his hand, and there’s only so much he can do to contain it.

He reaches the nearest bathroom and opens the door, still one-handed, sprinting inside. Eyes watering and vision blurry, he enters the closest stall and locks it, finally collecting a huge wad of toilet paper from the dispenser inside. He pulls his hand back from his face, cords of clear mess still clinging, and sops it all up. Giving a long, gurgling blow into the mass, he finally feels some relief. It’s short-lived, of course, followed directly by an itchy “hhhh’RISSSH! ETSSSH! Hah….uh….HEH’TSSSHHuh!” He groans, filling the toilet paper with another productive blow, then throwing it into the toilet. At least he’s finally alone and he can get it all out.

[A few minutes earlier]

Eddie stands in the stall, tapping his pack of cigarettes against his palm. Today is boring as hell, and the unit they’re covering in his math class is one of his least favorites. He already has all the answers for the homework from last year, anyway. Since they don’t let you leave during the day in this prison of a school, one of the only options is hiding out in the restroom, where sometimes he manages to smoke and not get caught.

Just as he’s about to light up, he hears the bathroom door slam open and footsteps hurry into the stall next to him. Whoever the mystery man is, he gives a truly nasty-sounding nose blow followed by several violent sneezes. Curiosity peaked, Eddie bends down to look at the other boy’s shoes underneath the stall wall. It almost sounds like… yep, those are definitely Harrington’s pristine rich-boy shoes.

He hears Steve’s voice, rounded with congestion, say, “Ugh, gross,” followed by a desperate sniff.

“Uh…you alright, Harrington?” asks Eddie, tentatively.

“Jesus Christ!” Steve nearly jumps out of his skin. “I didn’t thigk adyond was ind h-here! Ha-K’GGSSHHoo! Heh-D’TSHH!” Eddie can hear the clunk of the toilet paper dispenser spinning again as Steve pulls more out.

“Yeah, well, I’m here.”

“Who?” Steve asks.

“Munson.”

Steve snuffles into the tissues in his hand, asking, “You wadda give bme some privacy, bman? Eh…ha-RSSSHHuh!”

“Hey, I was here first, so technically you’re the one invading my privacy,” Eddie says. He knows he’s being a little shit, but he can’t help but press Steve’s buttons. He’s had an unfortunate crush on the guy for a while now, and he supposes this is the equivalent of pulling his pigtails on the playground.

Before Steve can come up with a response, he’s overtaken by another round of agitated sneezes. “uh…huh-ESSSH! Hah-ISSSHuh! G-god… heh’RSSSH! gk’ITSSHHah!” Eddie can picture him holding the clump of tissues to his nose, gasping in the aftermath, spent. Every sound he makes is echoing off the tiled walls, reverberating in the empty bathroom. This is doing nothing to help Eddie’s ongoing quest to quash his reluctant, nagging crush on King Steve, of all people.

“Good lord, man, you sound like you’re dying,” he says, aiming for casual. “I’m almost impressed.” He puts his cigarette away for now, deciding to spare Steve and his poor nose, assuming the smoke would set him off even more.

“ihh’ISSSH! Hih’GSSHUH!” Steve moans, the crumpled toilet paper in his hands soaked and unable to hold anymore. When he pulls it back from his face, there are tendrils of mess tethering him to it. “Fugk,” he says, reaching for more. To his horror, the roll is empty. “Goddamb id!” Pressing the wad of soggy tissues back to his face because he has no other choice, he asks, “Hey mban, cand you pass bme some toilet paper?”

A flush blooms across Eddie’s face and neck and he tries to keep his voice even. “Uh, yeah, just a second.” Pulling at the roll and collecting what he deems to be an appropriate amount, he reaches over the top of the stall and holds the bundle over. His eyes track the movement of Steve’s hand as it grabs for it, clumsy and distracted. His fingers brush Eddie’s in the process, and Eddie feels electric. He chides himself for getting all heated at the touch of a hand, just like in the medieval fantasy novels he reads.

Eddie brings his hand back down, staring at it for a moment, and of course there’s nothing to see. But still, as he hears Steve’s relieved blow in the stall next to him, long and crackling, he thinks, fuck it, and uses that hand to cup himself through his black jeans. Just a teasing squeeze, nothing more. Just to take the edge off.

Closing his eyes and resting his head back against the cool metal, he listens to Steve catch his breath next to him, a momentary relief before his breath starts hitching again. Then, a thick sounding, “huh-GGKSSHOO! Hh’AETCCHuh!” as more of the gunk is forcibly expelled from his sinuses. Steve follows it up with another squelching blow that makes Eddie wonder how it’s possible for one person to produce so much snot.

“I gotta be honest, Harrington, I’ve never heard anyone sound this bad,” says Eddie, grateful for the thin sheet of metal separating them, if only to hide what Steve’s condition is doing to him.

“Idt’s allergies,” Steve says, sounding cross.

“It doesn’t sound like allergies, dude,” says Eddie, hoping he sounds less invested than he is.

“Well Jessica sprayed her new fucking perfube in class, and it set mbe off, so yeah, it’s allergies.”

“If you say so,” Eddie says with a shrug that Steve can’t see. He could tell it was more than that. Had seen him covertly blow his nose at his locker between classes more than once this week.

“gk’SHOO! Heh’TSSHHoo!” Two spraying sneezes punctuated by a miserable sniffle. “…I bmight have beed feeling a little sick before thad, too,” he admits, exhausted and tired of hiding it. He clears his throat and Eddie can practically hear the mucus draining down the back of his throat.

“As much as it pains me to ask this, do you need me to get anyone for you?” Eddie says.

“Dno, I’b fin’d.”

“Alright… if you’re sure,” Eddie says, finally forcing himself to exit the stall. “Don’t sue me if you end up dying in here or something.”

Steve comes out too and Eddie finally gets a good look at him. His nose is so red, and his sleepy eyes are hazy and watery from his cold. The top of his lip is starting to look chapped from all the nose blowing he’s been doing, and there’s a faint flush across his cheeks. Eddie’s heart thumps in his chest and he thinks he might be in love.

Steve starts to walk toward the sinks to wash his hands. In his wearied state, his shoe catches on the tiled floor and he stumbles. Eddie reaches out instinctually to steady him with a hand on his elbow.

“Shit,” Steve says, his hand grabbing Eddie’s arm to right himself. “S-sorry- ihh-hih’TISCHoo!” he buries his head in his opposite elbow, doing his best to turn away from Eddie.

Still holding his elbow, Eddie feels Steve’s body jolt with the force of it. He tries to control the blush that heats his face.

Wiping his nose on his shirt sleeve, Steve straightens back up, looking a bit dizzy. The overwhelming combination of his horrible cold and intense allergies has really done a number on him. Eddie’s eyes zero-in on the wet spot seeping into the shirt in the crook of Steve’s elbow and his brain momentarily fills with static.

“Sorry,” Steve says again, sniffing and knuckling at his nose. Eddie’s snaps out of it, looking Steve in the eye and releasing his hold on him.

“Uh…you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah bman, I’b good.” They both turn to the sinks and wash their hands.

Eddie breaks the awkward silence with, “Is this the part where you tell me that if I tell anyone about this, you’ll kill me?”

Steve laughs despite himself, and it forces a chesty cough out of him, which he covers with the paper towel still in his hand. “Dude, don’t mbake mbe laugh right dow,” he says, unable to hide his reluctant smile. Eddie’s going to melt into a puddle on the floor. “Dno bman, I thigk we’re good,” Steve continues, voice growing hoarse.

“Okay…good,” Eddie says, flashing a crooked smile. He pauses, not wanting to break this tenuous truce they seem to have created. “Feel better, King Steve.”

“Thaggs.” Steve gives him a look that Eddie can’t quite figure out. Like he’s reassessing something in his head.

Tearing himself away from the moment, Eddie gives Steve a mock-salute, and strolls out of the bathroom.

Years later, when they’re a few months into their new relationship, Eddie asks Steve if he remembers that day.

“Barely… I was kind of out of it,” is Steve’s considering response.

“Well, I remember,” Eddie says, “It’s burned into my brain for all eternity. After that private show, there was no one else for me but you, baby.” He punctuates his declaration by pressing several dramatic, sloppy kisses along Steve’s neck, working his way up to his lips.

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve laughs, reveling in the attention.

“You love it.”

“Yeah, I do,” Steve says, fisting a hand in Eddie’s shirt and pulling him in for a real kiss.

#snzfic #snz fic #snzblr #ste/ddie #snzfics #snz fics

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handful0fteeth · 2 years

Text

friends don’t lie

words: 4.5k

summary: dustin has been hiding a big secret after the battle with vecna

warnings: angst, hurt + comfort, description of injuries, mild descriptions of gore, vomiting, mention of abusive parent, fix-it fic, non-canon compliant, major stranger things 4 vol. 2 spoilers

rating: pg-14 Dustin sits on the steps of the high school, backpack leaned against his shins while he rests his face in his hands and cries. He’d been sitting with Wayne Munson for the last hour, alternating between resting a hand on his upper back while they both sobbed in silence, and trying to assure the bereaved man that if nothing else, he knew Eddie was innocent. He had always known, and nothing would ever change that. That he knew Eddie’s true heart, he knew he wasn’t capable of hurting anyone the way Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick were hurt. Wayne didn’t say anything; he just clutched Eddie’s pick necklace in his hand and cried. Dustin hopes that at least knowing one person would always be on Eddie’s side gives Wayne a modicum of comfort.

“Hey, kid.”

Dustin sniffles and sits up, wiping his puffy eyes even though he knows it’ll be evident to Steve, Robin, and Nancy that he’s been crying. Steve’s face is sympathetic as he sits next to Dustin on the stoop. Robin squats just behind them, and Nancy leans on the concrete banister. “How you holdin’ up?” Steve asks.

Dustin shrugs and shakes his head. “I told Mr. Munson.”

“I saw,” Steve says.

“It’s good that you told him,” Nancy chimes in, her voice gentle. “He deserves to hear it from you, not some shitty newspaper article or a TV reporter.”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not like anyone else in this town is gonna be as nice about it as you were,” Robin says, resting a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “God knows if he stays here he’s gonna get bombarded with, like, people throwing rotten tomatoes at him or yelling about his nephew being some crazy Satanic murderer guy and -”

“Robin,” Nancy says sharply. Robin laughs nervously and squeezes Dustin’s shoulder.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. Maybe that won’t happen at all, maybe they’ll just…yanno, leave him be.”

“I think people have bigger problems than Wayne Munson right now,” Steve says, eyes scanning the blackening skyline. Smoke billows from the pulsating cracks in the ground just beyond the school, filling the air with God knows what. The strange, swirling particles that have always denoted ending up in the Upside Down are floating down into the parking lot, collecting like fat motes of dust on the asphalt.

“You think we’re gonna get sick from breathing that stuff in?” Robin asks.

“Maybe. Maybe it’s better we get sick,” Nancy mumbles. “The alternative is dealing with Vecna and whatever he has planned.”

“What, more bats?” Steve scoffs. “I can take those shits in my - ow.”

Nancy kicks Steve sharply in the side, luckily not in the spot where his bat bites are still healing, and pointedly flickers her gaze at Dustin. His eyes are filled with tears again and locked on the ground in front of him. Steve rubs his tender skin and sighs, realizing his mistake.

“Sorry.”

Dustin had to tell them what had happened once he limped out of the gate inside Eddie’s trailer, alone. He told them about the horde of Demobats, about Eddie’s last words, and how he had to leave him there because he wasn’t strong enough to carry his body back. Steve had offered to go back and retrieve him, or to maybe see if they could take him to a hospital, anything that would give Dustin some semblance of peace, but by that point, the ground had already begun to melt apart, and they all needed to run to higher ground.

“We’re gonna head over to Hopper’s old cabin to help clean it out if you wanna come,” Nancy says, bobbing her head in the direction of the woods. Dustin shakes his head and stands abruptly, grabbing his bag and swinging it over one shoulder.

“I gotta go help my mom out,” he says, taking the steps very slowly so as to not agitate his leg injury. “She can’t find Tews and she’s been freaking out for the last couple of days. Maybe I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“Dustin, are you…I mean, do you wanna talk about it?” Robin asks, standing up and following behind him.

“We’re here for you, bud,” Steve affirms, but Dustin doesn’t even turn around to look at him. He starts hobbling off across the parking lot, wincing every time he accidentally puts too much weight onto his bad leg. Nancy jogs after him, fingers already curled around her car keys.

“Dustin, hold on, I can drive you to your house -”

“I got it, Nance.”

“Dustin, c’mon, you live a few miles away from here and you’re still hurt, just let me -”

“Nancy, my leg’s not goddamned broken, I can walk home by myself,” Dustin snaps. He stops, pivoting on the spot to look at Nancy. Despite his annoyed tone, his blue eyes are full of sadness and pain, not anger. Nancy blinks, taken off-guard, and stops with her hand still in her pocket. There’s a moment where they all just stare at him, and eventually, Dustin uncomfortably readjusts his bag on his shoulder and sighs.

“Look, I’ll…I’ll call once I’m home, okay? I’ll leave a message on all of your machines so you know I’m back safe,” he says, voice decidedly softer. “I just…I wanna be alone for a little bit. Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Nancy nods, forcing a half-smile onto her lips. It doesn’t escape Dustin’s notice that it doesn’t meet her eyes, but he just presses his mouth into a thin line and turns around again, shuffling away from the school while his friends watch.

~~~

“Friends don’t lie,” Dustin mutters to himself, waddling through the wet carpet of dead leaves and rotten vines that is the forest floor. Most of the trees in this area have been either completely uprooted and toppled onto their sides, or their roots have formed strange, almost claw-like formations above the damp soil. It’s as if they’re trying to rip themselves from the ground and go somewhere, anywhere but Hawkins. Dustin can’t say he blames them.

“Friends don’t lie. Friends don’t lie.”

It’s eerily quiet in the woods. Usually, there are at least faint, distant sounds to keep him company, but today the air is thick and heavy with an unnatural silence. There are no birds chirping above him, no critters crawling amongst his feet. He surmises every living thing that wasn’t melted and torn apart by the Mega Gate opening has fled to find a different, far more hospitable environment, just like so many human residents of Hawkins. Dustin sighs and hangs a left off the path he’s walking, venturing onto unmarked ground and struggling uphill.

Friends don’t lie, or at least they’re not supposed to. But what about when friends feel like they need to lie? What about when friends lie to protect their other friends? Is that any better? Dustin honestly doesn’t know, he just knows he feels like shit for lying to his friends in the first place.

After toiling upwards through the woods for another half hour, limping through dense patches of dead trees, over gnarled roots, and getting closer and closer to the meadows on the outskirts of Hawkins where the Mega Gate is belching out smoke, Dustin finally happens upon a small cave. It’s narrow, yet deep enough that sunlight doesn’t touch the back of it. The rounded top is covered in a substantial layer of moss and dead foliage, and a yellowy curtain of Spanish moss obstructs about half of the entrance. A tree that’s grown in bent at almost a ninety-degree angle looms to the left of the cave, its spindly branches reaching toward the rock. Dustin huffs and wipes the sweat from his brow, swinging his backpack off his shoulder and letting it thud against the cave wall.

“Hey,” he calls, “it’s just me.” Silence.

Oh, right. Dustin walks to the crooked tree and knocks his fist against the trunk in purposeful bursts.

S-A-F-E.

Dustin waits for a moment after he spells out the message in Morse code, listening intently. To his great relief, the same message echoes back to him, and the leaves inside the cave start to crunch.

“How’s the end of the world treating you, Henderson?” Eddie Munson asks, staggering slowly out of the mouth of the cave and pushing the Spanish moss aside with one hand. His hair is knotted and filthy, sticking to his forehead and cheeks in clumps, the skull bandana they’d acquired from the War Zone tied around his neck like a scarf. His Hellfire Club shirt hangs off his body in bloody tatters; the stomach is mostly gone, exposing the dingy fabric that’s keeping the chewed-up flesh of his torso pieced together. Despite his grungy appearance and the way that his smile is clearly hued by the amount of pain he’s still in, Dustin relaxes at the sight of his friend.

“Shitty. How’s it treating you?” he asks, sliding down the tree trunk so he can sit amongst its roots. Eddie rocks his head from side to side, shrugging one shoulder before sinking to the ground and grabbing Dustin’s bag. He unzips it, pulling out a hunk of tinfoil and greedily ripping it open to reveal a plain peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He takes a massive bite, and jelly smears across his cheeks.

“Never better,” he says, mouth full and smiling.

Dustin was certain Eddie had died in his arms in the Upside Down. The way his eyes glazed over, the way he fell limp against him - Dustin could’ve sworn he stopped breathing. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, amongst hundreds of Demobat corpses, the stench of blood and death all around him, sobbing freely into where he’d buried his face into Eddie’s hair. He couldn’t imagine moving from that spot and just leaving Eddie there. What would happen to him? Would he decompose like a normal dead body? Would he be assimilated into the hive mind, used like a horrifying puppet for Vecna’s grand plans? Would he end up just being bat food for a new horde? It was all too much, it was so much pain and grief all at once that he couldn’t do anything other than cradle Eddie and wish more than anything he could turn back the clock for him.

And then, Eddie coughed.

He coughed again. And again. And again. His eyes snapped back into focus, staring up at Dustin’s face in confusion and fear and clear agony as he coughed and choked, blood and saliva flecking onto Dustin’s cheeks.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, Eddie, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m right here, just breathe!” Dustin cried, but Eddie just kept spluttering. His body was so tense, it was like every muscle had flexed all at once, and the way his eyes kept moving back and forth in a panic quickly clued Dustin into the fact that he couldn’t move. He set Eddie down on the ground as gently as he could and rolled him onto his side, which allowed him to finally vomit up what had been choking him.

Blackish, viscous fluid poured from his mouth in seemingly unending bursts, and with every heave of his body he puked up more and more of the strange liquid. Dustin leaned over him and thumped on his back, hoping he was doing enough, hoping he didn’t get Eddie back just for him to aspirate on his foul vomit. Eventually, he spat out a final greyish glob and took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Eddie?”

“That…tasted like shit,” Eddie croaked. His head flopped back on his shoulder so he could look up at Dustin, and though his dark eyes were shining with tears, he grinned up at his friend, teeth slick with blood and black bile.

“Looks like I didn’t get my hero’s ending after all, huh?”

Dustin just sobbed and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, relieved and confused and elated all at once, squeezing him so hard Eddie hissed in pain through his wheezy laughter.

Though he could talk, and he could move his head around a little, the rest of his body was immobile. He could still feel everything, including the massive, oozing pile of shredded flesh that was once his torso, but his limbs were frozen in place. Dustin hypothesized that maybe the Demobats carried a sort of paralytic venom that was meant to temporarily disable their prey, and Steve was only able to avoid the debilitating effects because Robin, Nancy, and Eddie swooped in to save him before they could really dig in.

“Oh, so like Shelob?” Eddie laughed, very amused with his comparison of the murderous bats to the demonic spider in Lord of the Rings. “I did say I would follow you into Mordor, Henderson, but I didn’t think we’d get all the fixins’ to go along with it.”

Dustin was unsure of how long it was before Eddie could even twitch his fingers or roll his shoulders back, but at one point he was able to hoist himself out of Dustin’s lap and support himself on his arms. By then, Dustin had taken the fabric he’d draped over his head and used it as a tourniquet/bandage for Eddie’s stomach. When Eddie had enough strength to push himself up onto his knees, and hobble forward a little, Dustin handed him one of their makeshift spears, blade pointed at the ground, to use as a walking stick.

Together, they limped back to the gate in Eddie’s trailer, but before they flipped back into their Hawkins, they came up with their plan.

Eddie looks out at the towers of smog leaking from the angry red gashes in the earth just beyond where they’re sitting, chewing thoughtfully. “You think that’s gonna give a lot of people cancer?”

“Huh?”

“Well, that doesn’t look healthy, now does it?” Eddie asks, flapping his half-eaten sandwich in the direction of the meadow. “You think it’s gonna give people, like…demon-cancer? Vecna-sickness?”

“Maybe? I dunno, Ed, I’m a little more concerned with giant, nasty monsters coming up through the cracks to slurp our brains out through our noses, to be honest with you,” Dustin says. He doesn’t know if anything in the Upside Down is particularly interested in human brain matter, but it’s worth considering. He points at his backpack.

“Those supplies should last you a couple of days. I was only able to snag one bottle of water so make sure you don’t chug it all today.”

“There’s a creek not too far from here, I could just drink from there,” Eddie says, licking jelly off his dirty fingers, the metal on his cracked rings glinting in the sunlight.

“The last thing you need is dysentery because you drank shit-water, Eddie,” Dustin reminds him. Eddie shrugs and rummages in Dustin’s bag, pulling out a clean roll of gauze, bandages, and a bottle of Bactine spray and lining them up next to him. He slowly, carefully rolls himself forward onto his knees and lifts the frayed ends of his shirt up to his chest, pinning it in place with his chin. He takes a quick breath, holds it, and starts lifting the crusted, grisly fabric from his skin. Dustin can hear the makeshift bandaging coming off inch by painful inch, undoubtedly yanking loose hunks of flesh with it, and Eddie’s face twists and contorts the closer he gets to the deepest injuries on his stomach. His hands start to tremble, and he screws his eyes shut tight.

“Do you want help?” Dustin asks, already leaning forward. Eddie shakes his head, eyes still closed.

“Nope,” he says through gritted teeth. “I got it, I’m good…I got it…”

He huffs shakily and curls his fingers tighter around the loose end of the fabric. Suddenly, he tugs it hard and fast, trying to rip it away from his body like a Band-Aid but it gets stuck halfway. Eddie lets out a cry, one hand flying up to cover his mouth and stifle himself, and collapses backward onto his ass. Dustin is at his side before the dirt has even settled back onto the ground.

In the Upside Down, Dustin was tying the sheets he pulled off of Eddie’s alternate bed into another makeshift rope while Eddie leaned against the wall, one hand white-knuckling his spear-walking stick, the other clamped against his stomach. Dustin had just knotted the second sheet onto the expanding length when Eddie spoke up.

“What’s the plan for when we get back?” he asked. Dustin glanced up briefly before resuming his task.

“Well, assuming everything’s worked out in regards to Vecna, Max, and the gates, we figure out a way to clear your name and then you execute your “flipping off Principal Higgins and running like hell outta here” plan.”

“That easy, huh?”

“Eddie, you didn’t kill anyone. You don’t seriously think the police are believing Jason’s “satanic worship” bullshit, do you?” Eddie didn’t respond. Just stared ahead at the slick vines tangled along the trailer’s walls.

“Eddie?”

“Yanno, when my uncle took me in, he got so much shit from our neighbors,” Eddie said softly, the ghost of a smile flickering across his lips. “They knew all about my dad, the kind of stuff he was into, how he was always strung out or bouncing in and out of jail. Wayne talked about it all the time, it bugged the hell out of him - I guess he couldn’t ever have his own little crotchgoblins, but he sure wanted some, and it made him nuts that my old man had exactly what he wanted and just…ruined it. ‘Course, my dad could write the book on ruining shit, so, that didn’t come as much of a surprise…

“Anyway, he got busted again, and when they couldn’t find my mom anywhere, it was either foster care or Uncle Wayne’s. And Uncle Wayne’s didn’t include six shitbird kids all crammed into one room and fighting over who got the bed with the least amount of bugs in it, so…pretty easy choice. Our neighbors couldn’t believe it when Wayne brought me home, they stared me down like I was tracking shit in the house the whole time. And I heard ‘em talking about me, tellin’ him, “Oh, that kid, he’s gonna grow up to be just like his scumbag dad and you know it, Wayne. He’s gonna get you into real trouble someday, Wayne.” But he didn’t listen. He didn’t care.”

Eddie’s bottom lip quivered, and he wiped the sleeve of his leather jacket across his nose, clearing his throat. “That was just when people thought I was a juvenile delinquent, Henderson. What kind of shit do you think he’s gonna get if people think I’m the next Bundy?”

“Eddie, we’re gonna figure it out, I promise you,” Dustin said, and Eddie scoffed.

“No…no, I can’t do that to him,” he said lowly. “I won’t. After everything he’s done for me, the least I could do is make sure a bunch of angry hicks don’t bang down his door for harboring a murderer.”

Dustin pulls the last of the fabric off Eddie’s stomach, balls it up, and sets it next to his bag. Eddie’s on his back now, sweat beading above his brow, panting from the pain. One hand is curled up into a fist and pressed into his forehead, the other is crushing Dustin’s hand in its grip. Dustin examines Eddie’s injuries - too many bites to ever hope to count, with such a thick layer of dark red blood crusted over everything it’s hard to tell where the skin is still intact on his body.

“Do you still have any of the water we brought from a couple of days ago?” Dustin asks. Eddie nods.

“Yeah…back there, somewhere.”

Dustin walks further into the cave, past a disheveled sleeping bag, a few empty water bottles, crumpled-up chip bags, and paper plates with the remnants of a lasagna Dustin had stolen out of the fridge at home. Eddie’s jacket is the only thing in here that displays even a shred of care, as it’s folded into a crisp square and resting on top of a large rock. Dustin snags a mostly empty water bottle off the ground and heads back to his friend, unfurling the fabric he’d cast aside and picking a relatively unstained spot to work with. He wets the edge and slips his other hand back into Eddie’s.

“This might hurt,” he says, and Eddie laughs bitterly.

He pulls the skull bandana from around his neck and bunches the end of it up, sticking it between his teeth as a bite guard. “Do your worst,” he says, voice muffled.

Luckily, it doesn’t seem to be unbearable - Dustin wipes the crusted blood off of Eddie’s body as tenderly as he can, rinsing the rag of blood every so often and wringing the soiled water out. Eddie breathes through it, his eyes shut and his hand flexing around Dustin’s. The cleaner his skin becomes, the more Dustin can see that any flesh not marred by Demobat bites is bruised almost black.

Setting the rag back down in the dirt, Dustin picks up the Bactine bottle and shakes it. The sound makes Eddie crack open his eyes a sliver, and he makes a strained noise in the back of his throat.

“Now that, that is gonna hurt,” he says around the bandana, trying to remain humorous but his voice is tinged with fear. Dustin squeezes his hand reassuringly.

“Just try not to scream too loud, okay?”

Eddie gives a thumbs up. “Roger that.”

The moment the spray hits his skin, Eddie arches off the ground and slaps his hand over his mouth, stuffing the bandana even further into it, agonized wails muffled by his fingers. He writhes in absolute misery, feet carving trenches in the loose dirt beneath him as he kicks and flails wildly. Dustin apologizes over and over again, and when he’s finally finished cleansing the wounds, tears are slipping down the sides of Eddie’s temples and dripping into his hair.

“There, all done, we’re all done,” Dustin soothes, setting the bottle down by Eddie’s head as he reaches for the gauze. As he’s lifting the corner with his teeth, he hears Eddie heave a humorless laugh. He looks down, and Eddie’s head is turned so he can look at the Bactine bottle, bandana wet with saliva and spat onto the ground.

“No sting my ass,” he pants, reading the label. Dustin chuckles.

“On the bright side, nothing is pus-y or infected looking,” he says, pulling Eddie up into a sitting position. “So as long as we stay on top of cleaning it out, it should stay that way.”

“Maybe I’ll get some vampire powers out of this,” Eddie says. He’s gone white as a sheet, and Dustin can feel his body tremoring as he wraps the gauze tightly around his body, but he’s still cracking jokes. He doesn’t know if it’s to make him feel better, or Eddie.

“What’re you thinking? Super speed?”

“With my luck, it’ll be an aversion to holy water and crucifixes,” Eddie says snidely. He groans as Dustin knots the end of the gauze and applies extra pressure to his wounds. The bandage is secured next, and Eddie gives Dustin a spare safety pin from the pocket of his jeans so he can fasten it.

“There! Good as new,” Dustin announces, patting Eddie on the shoulder.

Eddie flattens his shirt back down over his stomach and crosses his legs underneath him, letting his head fall into his hands and rubbing his eyes. They sit in silence for a bit, the only sound in the entire forest being the wind rustling through the leaves. Dustin reclines against the cold inner wall of the cave, staring up at the damp, smooth ceiling, the stale stench of the Upside Down wafting toward him on the breeze.

Eddie made Dustin promise he’d keep up the act that Eddie was dead. He couldn’t fathom waltzing back into Hawkins and graduating after everything, even if somehow he was found innocent, because the stigma would still follow him no matter what. And if it followed him, it would follow Wayne too. He would be a permanent dark cloud above his uncle’s head, as far as he saw it.

Eddie remembered a cave he’d found as a kid, one he used to run to whenever he got in trouble with his dad and wanted to avoid a beatdown for as long as possible, and since it was so deep into the forest he presumed no one would find him out there even if they didn’t believe he was dead.

“I don’t care what story you make up,” he said, “you can tell everyone I went out with my head spinning and puking up pea soup like Regan MacNeil, whatever, just…just as long as they think I’m gone.”

Vecna nearly sinking the entirety of Hawkins eliminated any need for an Exorcist-esque lie, but that’s still what it was - a lie. Dustin lied to everyone, he lied to Steve. But it was to protect Eddie and Wayne from any further harm. Surely his friends would understand that?

“How’s he doing?” Eddie asks suddenly. “Wayne. How’s he doing?”

“He was putting up missing posters for you in the high school when I saw him.”

“Okay, that’s what he’s doing - I want to know how he’s doing.”

Dustin tilts his head down to look at Eddie. “How do you think he’s doing, Ed?” he asks somberly. “I told him I was with you during the earthquake. That I saw you die.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything. He looks away, back into the darkness of the cave, and takes a deep, quivering breath. He has no witty comeback, no smart remarks. He just sits and stares, and he pinches the bridge of his nose before sniffling and clearing his throat.

“But I told him you died a hero,” Dustin says. Eddie nods, looking down at his lap, a watery smile on his face.

“Yeah. A hero.”

“You are a hero, Eddie,” Dustin assures him. “You’re a hero to me.”

Eddie’s smile splits his face apart further, and he meets Dustin’s gaze evenly, dark eyes wet with unshed tears. He grunts, pushing himself up on his knees again, and hobbles over to Dustin’s side of the cave. He flops down beside him unceremoniously, throwing an arm over Dustin’s shoulders and knocking their heads together gently.

“You’re pretty heroic yourself, man,” he says sincerely. He jostles Dustin against him, ruffling his curly hair with one hand. “You pulled my ass out of the Upside Down with a busted leg.”

“You would’ve done the same for me,” Dustin says confidently.

“Kid, after everything we’ve been through, I’d steal the moon out of the sky and crush it up into a d20 for you.”

They both laugh, and Dustin leans into Eddie’s side, smiling.

He lied. He’s technically aiding a fugitive, since “presumed dead” doesn’t mean much to conspiracy theorists who will probably always tell stories of Eddie “The Freak” Munson, the devil-worshipping dungeon master who disappeared without a trace. But sitting in this cave, with Eddie safe and alive, his grimy hair tickling his cheek, reeking of sweat and dirt and antibacterial spray, Dustin knows he will lie for the rest of his life if it means he gets to keep his friend safe.

Friends don’t lie. But friends always protect.

#stranger things #stranger things fix it #stranger things fic #stranger things vol 2 spoilers #stranger things 4 #stranger things vol 2 #fix it fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dustin henderson #dustin henderson fanfiction #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #angst #angst fic #hurt/comfort

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catflowerqueen · 1 year

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It looks like Moon’s branch of the family is setting up some pretty interesting checks and balances, which might mean that this deal won’t work out quite so terribly as we all assumed… though still with a lot more death involved than Moon is likely to be happy with. Especially give how tired he still seemed today.

Like… KC not killing the trashcan guy seems to imply that he is willing to stick with his agreement to only go after “evil” people—since presumably what stayed his hand there was not knowing anything about the guy. Other than that he is baffling and might not actually be able to die?—and that also speaks volumes in that he probably isn’t actually lying or liable to turn on anyone he considers family without provocation. And everyone can bring something to the table and have at least one ally, even if there is mistrust.

As long as KC doesn’t harm Sun (and presumably Monty and Lunar—though I am curious about which branch of the tree KC considers to be Lunar’s, and whether he also considers them to be a son like Bloodmoon), the Moon won’t try to fight back—which would at the very least hinder KC’s movements slightly, and might also cause him to break any cover or disguise that Moon could provide (especially in terms of magic, which KC might not know/be able to concentrate on enough to perform). Bloodmoon is unlikely to hurt Moon directly both because KC told them not to and because harming Moon would harm KC—who they are so adorably attached to and have really leaned into the role of his kids. And by the same token they aren’t likely to overtly hurt Sun either beyond causing more general mischief like they’ve already been doing. And Eclipse is in a bind and might be willing to be more conciliatory toward Moon simply because he is pretty much the only other sane and stable animatronic of the bunch and might be willing to put his animosity with Eclipse aside at least momentarily if their goals align.

On Bloodmoon’s end, they already adore KC and thus are more willing to do as he asks by default, especially because most of what he asks aligns with their own desires. At the same time, they are willing to keep Eclipse’s words in mind and be cautions and don’t seem to have any massive issues with getting KC if he does one day cross a line. They hate Eclipse, but won’t kill him because KC said no and they value his deal more—and do find Eclipse useful in certain situations. And they honestly don’t really seem to have that much of a problem with Moon? Sure they were game for killing him, but that’s more because they just generally like chaos more than it being anything actually personal. Same for Sun and finding him annoying, really.

Eclipse is just in it to save his own skin and further his own goals, but the only one of the bunch that actually seems to like him a modicum is KC—who still seems to find him annoying even then—because he considers him his kid, so while he can bide his time the only one who might listen to him is Moon. And, honestly, given what Lord Eclipse was up to, he probably wouldn’t object too harshly to being on “evil people look out” duty, especially if he’s the one getting to pick the targets.

And KC basically just wants a big happy family with his kids and brother. He’ll stop his kids from turning on each other, and seems to want to bring Moon into the fold, too, even if he doesn’t like his more “peaceful” methods (though his words about Moon just “pretending” does make me think he considers himself and Moon to be more similar than Moon wants to admit—and the high value both of them put on family does give that idea some merit), but I get the feeling he won’t hesitate to attack or mete out punishment if he thinks the need calls for it.

My only worry is where Lunar would fall on the scale. In terms of morality, Lunar’s is still a bit whacky—they definitely still look to Sun and Moon for what is considered “good,” and while they to do things that would set good examples for the kids (whom they adore), they also don’t seem to have much of a problem with bending or breaking rules? Like… they know what and when things are violent, and did even back when they were still with Eclipse, but just didn’t necessarily seem to care. They like chaos just as much as the rest of the Moon branch does and aren’t averse to things like violence even if they don’t usually participate in it themself. And even though they hate Eclipse, they do still have tenuous ties with Bloodmoon and considers Moon to be their brother. And if KC actually approached them again and clarified that why they didn’t want Monty to take them was due to considering them family—another child of his, most likely—then I think they would be willing to accept the label even if they didn’t actually want to join in on the “bonding activities.” But at the same time… KC hasn’t actually mentioned them at all, and might consider them to be part of the Sun branch—and even though KC acknowledges that Moon considers Sun his brother, KC’s tone pretty heavily implied that he didn’t see Sun as his brother as well. Which isn’t all that great for Lunar.

Though it still wouldn’t be smart of KC to try anything, since hurting Lunar would mean an immediate retaliation from Moon, the same way as would happen if he tried to hurt Sun.

…Point is, if Bloodmoon doesn’t go off the rails, then this deal might actually be pretty functional.

As to the aftermath and what we can expect from the future—I hope the reunion with Sun, Lunar, and Monty goes well. At this point Moon still likely thinks Sun hates him and was putting up a façade, and he needs to hear the truth from the real Sun as well as ascertain Lunar’s safety. And I feel like Moon is going to insist that there be some safeguards put up to protect his brothers, because he is likely going to be understandably wary about the possibility of KC or the others hurting them even despite the deal. I could see Moon suggesting that he move out, even, just to make things extra safe for the two of them. Or possibly ask after some of Monty’s contingencies. Which would be understandable, but very sad.

I really do hope they come up with a solution soon. Because this whole thing is just bringing up Moon’s trauma once again.

On a more positive note, though, the computer isn’t mad at him—which is good, since that’s one of the things I was worried about. It even wished him luck at the end, which was great.

#SAMS #sun and moon show #fnaf security breach

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necromatador · 9 months

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5, 14, 25, 29, 38, 41 for Jaz and/or Alkimos! (you can do just one or both, up to you <3)

Hi babby~

Alright this is gonna be a long one so I'm gonna put this below a cut but let's gooooooooo!

5. How do they dress? What styles, colors, accessories, and other possessions do they favor? Why?

So Jaz likes to dress flamboyantly, with plenty of jewelry and meticulous make-up. His favorite colors are warm browns and pinks (mostly softer pinks). His jewelry is almost entirely gold with rubies and diamonds. It's absolutely to make himself look higher-class and powerful, he wants to look intimidating in every form. It is also a way to distance himself from his past as essentially a nothing. Alkimos meanwhile likes to dress either in nothing (in his true sphinx form, whereas Jaz wears a lot of jewelry and make-up even as a manticore) or in comfortable, sturdy, and looser clothing. He doesn't like his movement to be restricted, and he doesn't want something that'll rip or fall apart easily. He prefers light cool greys, white, and pastel purples. As a nod to Jaz he does have a few outfits that are a little fancier with finer make, but he doesn't wear them except when they're needed.

14. What do they care deeply about? What kind of loyalties, commitments, moral codes, life philosophies, passions, callings, or spirituality and faith do they have? How do these tend to be expressed?

They are loyal to each other first and foremost, since they've relied on each other for survival for so long. Beyond that they are committed to making life better for fablefolk, and will give a modicum of respect to the fieldfolk who actively help them in that goal. They generally have a bit different of a moral code than society at large, due to both being criminals and being fablefolk who grew up outside the walls of the city. They grew up wild and free and unafraid. They put on a veneer of respectability and lawfulness, obviously, to navigate within the city and it's government, but they have little loyalty to the people running the city. This is a problem to some in charge. It makes them a threat. I've also mentioned they have a specific focus on dismantling the cultural practice of Hunting. It's a hard battle, but Gallecross is already leagues ahead with considering fablefolk as people with rights compared to some other areas. They know that places outside of walled cities can exist with a peace between fieldfolk and fablefolk, they grew up in one that was destroyed by Hunting. But Jaz and Alkimos use at least some of their income to experiment with substitutes for magical ingredients that come from Hunted fablefolk, and are working on programs for sustainable harvesting of ingredients from (or rather donated by or bought from) fablefolk that are willing and compensated (Jaz sells his own venom for example, and things like shed dragon scales instead of fresh, etc, etc).

25. What do they need and want out of relationships, and how do they go about getting it?

(TLDR: these bitches need to know they're wanted and safe and won't be abandoned or betrayed, and they're only really able to get that from each other thanks to childhood trauma! But I'm gonna get a lil wordsy with it below.) Jaz hates the way playing politics has made him approach other people. He sizes them up, he analyzes what exactly he can get from them. Are they an ally? An asset? An obstacle? He plays the games he's required to play, smiles the smiles, shakes hands, says the right words at the right times. And he can read it behind their smiles that they are also just playing the game too. He can't trust any of them. If they find an edge, an angle, a single sliver of a weak spot, they will destroy him and everything he and Alkimos have worked for. And he cannot let that happen. He returns home after long hours of hob-knobbing with a bunch of absolute fucking tools, and finds himself falling asleep in Alkimos' arms, head pressed securely to his sphinx's rumbling chest. Jaz knows he's stubborn, knows he'll never be able to put into words what he actually needs, but Alkimos can read between his lines and holds him tight and stays there as sure and steady as a rock. In their quiet moments together, the sphinx makes sure the manticore is reassured about where his loyalty and affection lies, even if Jaz never truly asks. Alkimos, meanwhile, sees people not in how they can be useful, but how much of a problem they would be. Analyzing their threat level and sizing up how difficult it would be to Get Rid Of Them, if it became necessary. It exhausts him. It consumes him. He's woken up countless times from nightmares where he's sinking his fangs into a soft, pink-furred throat and watching those vibrant eyes, full of anger and betrayal, fade into death. On those nights he lays awake, watching Jaz sleep, pressed so close beside him. And he forces himself to remember what they've been through. And he forces himself to remember all that Jaz has done for him, all that Jaz has given him. He forces himself to remember the glint hidden in Jazakhza's eyes as he gives Alkimos gifts and favors and fawns over the sphinx. The desperation to be loved and to make sure the one you love never wants for anything, least of all to leave. And Alkimos wonders to himself how Jaz could think he'd ever even conceive of leaving.

29. What kind of activities, interests, and hobbies do they have? What significance and impact do these have in their lives, both positive and negative?

Well besides what they do for their work, they do enjoy messing around and experimenting with their respective magical arts (enchanting being Jaz's and potion making being Alkimos').

As large predatory creatures they also enjoy hunting for prey, and can get quite restless and snappish if they don't get out enough to do so. Unfortunately they're kind of stuck within the walls of Gallecross for the most part, so they usually either pay to rent out hunting space in the forests between the walls for a day or two...or any particular rivals or opposition they have that Won't Be Missed is going to have A Bad Time. Obviously they have to be very careful with that second option.

I'm also considering that they have a bad habit of adopting and pampering stray animals as pets. Jaz is particularly bad about this. They love him unconditionally ;_;

38. Is there anything they wish they could change about their worldview or thought processes? What, and why?

Besides both wishing they could find it within themselves to trust more easily? Jaz has a temper he wishes he could control better. He's usually very good due to his years practicing socializing in polite society, but there are a few triggers that cause him to react aggressively and (in some circumstances) explosively. He hates it because he considers that a weakness and the opposite of the social persona he's worked very very hard to cultivate. Alkimos meanwhile has a hard time experiencing strong emotions, particularly positive ones, and wishes he could change that to get more joy out of life and have more hope for the future. There are still the occasional instance where he will feel some kind of emotion stronger than usual, and he tries very hard not to let that distract him or cause him to try and chase that feeling.

41. What associations do they bring to mind? Words or phrases, images, metaphors or motifs? Why?

Jazakhza: Pastel roses, aged lace, antique jewel-encrusted brooches, soft fur, the smell of tea out in a garden. Alkimos: A thick morning fog, a heavy and warm coat, a guardian statue, distant wing-beats, the smell of oncoming rain.

#the walled city of gallecross #ask meme #oc asks #jazakhza the manticore #alkimos the sphinx

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tribunale · 3 months

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@cremisino

“Will you both fucking quit it?” Diavolo snarls. He feels too much familiarity with their argument, of course he’d take his own side in that case, but god. Did they realize how fucking lucky they were, this false Diavolo, to still have a modicum of company?

“At least you still have each other within arms reach, do you think I have so much of a luxury? For all the research I gave to our condition, and perhaps it is a coping mechanism of some fucked sort, at least you still have that coping mechanism.” Diavolo stopped, thinking to himself as looking too weak for admitting it. “Not that I need help coping with this.”

“Everything is lost to me. My world, both outside and inner. Giorno Giovanna has robbed me of all control, yet I continue fighting, because I know that is what Doppio would have wanted, and for all you say you wish to give up, Solido, I know it is what you would have wanted too - for us to survive, to thrive. Perhaps not the former, but even you would never deny us the latter if it came in a form you could stomach.”

He continues.

“Sometimes I think I can hear him, feel him, just out of reach. Do you think it would do Doppio any good to see you continuously bicker between each other? Perhaps my empty mind has offered me some clarity on the fact - that it is pointless going in circles. How I wish I had the opportunity to argue like you both do. How I envy you for that fact.”

He does not stop.

“I am alone here, and with nothing but death to distract myself from our memories - even then, even in death, I find no peace, I am forced to go through it again, to be reminded of how insignificant my struggle is. That no matter how far we ran, no matter who we erased or what, that the ones who hurt us will always have a hold over us. That we will never be free.”

He does not notice the tears in his eyes, or the desperation in his voice.

“I still hear them, out of reach, as if they have to bare witness to this fact as well - and that is what tears me apart most. I would die a hundred times if you, Solido, were to be happy. If but for you and Doppio and Amaretto were to be free. Yet none of my suffering amounts to anything. Not a single thing. And now, I am forced to watch someone dangle an illusion in front of me, a very tempting one, that I would not be alone. That I could direct my anger towards someone else, even if that is myself, that I could have even the tiniest amount of control over something.. Truly, my punishment is of most cruelty - and my punishment for what, for being punished? It is rather fucked, if I say so myself.”

“But I will not let this be the death of me.” He says, contrary to fact.

#; eremita #; tbd #; Solido is technically right but.. DIavolo's angry adventure.

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katierosefun · 3 years

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omg i saw you're the seven husbands of evelyn hugo aaah !!! what do you think i mean you already said you think it's great but !!! who's your favorite (or least hated) husband so far if you have one :o

OHOHOHOOOOO yes okay i'm like halfway through (so i just started the section about rex, and yes, my brain blanked out because rex?), but like...i don't think i have a least hated husband so far? i know that evelyn marries harry cameron at one point, which i'm honestly looking forward to the most just because i adore their friendship and also um i don't want to spoil anything for the readers but like,,,,you and i both know that them getting married is probably the best idea out there.

(but then again, idk if harry might disappoint me too. i really hope not! i like his character too much. true blue...best friends who tell each other everything...please don't disappoint me harry i despise all the men in this book except for you--)

but if we're talking about the husbands i've read about so far, then i guess...maybe eddie diaz? like, idk i kind of despise him considering that evelyn was like "yeah i'm pretty sure he knew i was underage", but like...i think compared to folks like don adler (the way i was happy and then the chapter ended with that line and i was like "oh god") and mick riva (i know taylor jenkins reid has mick riva cameo her other books and i'm just like ma'am i love interconnectedness in books but why this slimeball), i mean................eddie diaz was just some gullible dude who at least got evelyn to california and divorced her when she requested it, you know? like. okay. you're a lil' creepy. but at least you cut it off when evelyn said she wanted to cut it off, you know?

#answered #i love this book a lot so far #i'm honestly just waiting for evelyn and harry to marry #so that they can both at least have some modicum of peace #but also i just looked online and his section is apparently called 'TORTURED HARRY CAMERON' and i'm just...........please.........#no tragedy for them......#let them at least be best friends forever........

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helpimhyperfixating · 2 years

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College party - Jotaro x Reader NSFW

CW: drunk sex, cunnulingus/oral, mild sexual harassment(not between you and Jotaro)

To that anon who wanted more nsfw fics? You’re welcome, this one wasn’t even on the list XDD

Enjoy ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Word count: 9029

Music and dim lights flashing every colour of the rainbow assaulted your senses as you stood in the room. People were dancing and jumping like morons and you just stood to the side, silently judging them all for entertainment.

Beside you, on a couch not too far away, sat your boyfriend. Well, low-key boyfriend. Given Jotaro’s following, even on campus, you both had decided to keep it on the down-low. Not that you minded too much, neither of you were much into pda.

That was at least, if one of you wasn’t drunk.

Star platinum hovering over you had been a constant for about half the night now. In general you didn’t mind, given the rarity of Stand users, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t lead to some… problems.

It was way too obvious what Jotaro was after. You knew him well enough by now to recognise when he was drunk. And when Jotaro was drunk, he got needy for attention. But given you were in someone else’s house and also literally in the middle of a party, you very much weren’t willing to follow up on his needy little signs.

Jotaro had seen it too, noticing your not so subtle rejections, so instead he had brought out his Stand to at least get some modicum of attention. Right now, Star Platinum was drifting around you yet before you knew it, it grabbed your face and pushed its lips onto yours.

“Mhph-!” You tried to be as subtle as possible, knowing you’d look like an absolute lunatic if you reacted in any way shape or form. Trying to pull away, Star Platinum got most of the hint and pulled back. Only to then go in and press peck after peck on your lips, courtesy of his drunk user. He just really wanted to kiss you but didn’t have any energy to get up, nor did he want to publicly out himself. The last rational part of his brain reminding him that your relationship was a secret. “Jotaro! Stop with the kisses!” You hissed through your own Stand, making the purple being in front of you briefly stop and let go of your face.

“I don’t want to.”

At his childish reply, you deadpanned before taking a few steps backwards, stepping just outside of his five meter range, making the purple Stand weaker the further you went, easily able to wrench free of his grip.

“Y/N, come back here.” Though he tried to sound stern and commanding, not even the filter of talking through his Stand could prevent the drunken whine in Jotaro’s voice.

Yet you just glared past his Stand and directly at the man sunken into the couch. “No. You can go kiss a wall with your drunken ass for all I care.”

Watching you storm away, Jotaro couldn’t help but look at the sway of your ass right up until you turned a corner, making him click his tongue in disappointment as he pulled Star Platinum in. He just wanted to hold his fucking girlfriend - if not with his own arms, then with his Stand.

Yet he didn’t go after you, too sluggishly tipsy to get up and chase you. Although, as he spun his head to look forward again he realised that- oh, maybe he was a little more than tipsy… But yet so, on the couch he stayed for the next thirty or so minutes, merely spending his time drinking cheap beer and people watching, as infuriating as they could be.

Yet his peace was not meant to last, as a girl he had noticed continuously staring at him suddenly started to approach.

Walking what she believed was a sexy walk but what was merely idiocy to Jotaro, she stopped in front of him.

“Hi~” She purred and Jotaro averted his eyes.

“Go away.” Taking a sip from the can in his hand, he didn’t even bother to look at her reaction. He did notice she didn’t move however.

It seemed like his attitude didn’t bother her at all as she ignored his words. “I’ve seen you sitting all alone for all this time and thought I’d provide you some company.” She smiled sweetly, trying to come across as earnest but failing.

“Don’t want it. Stop bothering me.” The raven curtly answered, starting to get more annoyed by the second, glaring at the girl from the corner of his eye.

“Everyone wants some company.” She smiled as she bent forward, getting way too close for his liking, to which he leaned back, appearing futile as she just leaned with him. “I have some ideas of what we can do to get rid of your loneliness.” Her voice was sultry, the implications of her words impossible to miss by even the most oblivious people as she put her hand on his shoulder, palming it in an obvious allegory.

“Would you fuck off?” Jotaro hissed but the woman merely giggled, bringing her other hand up and placing it on his chest, starting to play with the little chain necklace around his neck that you had gifted him on his birthday. That was the last straw as he threw his beer can away angrily, glaring at her. “Not only are you bitches always clingy and annoying, now you’re harassing me as well?” He growled out, genuinely mad and the girl quickly picked up on it.

“N-No, I’m not harassing you at all, baby! I just want to help y-“

“Get your hands off me!” Jotaro barked when the girl had started sliding her palm towards his crotch, quickly grasping her wrist and yanking it away. “Go find some other dude to fuck, I’m not interested.”

Stomping her foot a little, the girl held an angry pout. She was clearly just as drunk as Jotaro was, maybe even more so, and this gave her way too much of a bratty entitledness.

“No one else is like you!” Before Jotaro could do anything, she jumped at him, straddling his hips and slamming her mouth on his as she roughly grinded on him. Due to his intoxication, any reflexes he normally held were gone, making him stupidly unable to stop her.

Disgustingly so, her tongue roamed over his lips as she attempted to sway him with physicality over trying it verbally.

When she bit down on his bottom lip, slamming her hips down on his, Jotaro finally snapped out of his stunned stupor and Star Platinum came out with an angry roar, stopping time.

Immediately, Jotaro ripped his face away from her and stood up. Time continued and he threw the girl onto the couch, briefly leaving her with a feeling of vertigo from how seemingly quickly he got up.

“When will you understand that no is a no, bitch!?” Jotaro yelled at the girl now sprawled on the couch.

With a disgusted look, he wiped off his lips several times, trying to get the awful feeling of her prodding tongue off of them before glaring at her.

“You’re just playing hard to get, I can see your erection.” The girl just crossed her arms as she looked up at him - as if her argument was solid, damning and final - and Jotaro seethed, his jaw clenching so hard he felt as if he might break his teeth.

“Fuck. You. Try one more thing and I won’t care you’re a woman. I’ll make sure you can’t even move your hands to fap yourself.” He growled so low it vibrated.

At that, the girl sat up with an undignified look. “Are you threatening me?” She spoke in disbelief, but Jotaro didn’t bat an eye.

“Yes I fucking am. Move one inch closer to me. I dare you.” He challenged, his whole aura screaming danger as he glared her down.

Wisely, she stayed put, a guilty but angry expression on her face as she refused to look Jotaro in the eyes.

Given that she finally seemed to have gotten the message, Jotaro stomped away, a little unsteady on his feet but holding enough anger and willpower to not show it. He pushed through the crowd of people who had been staring at the scene, leaving the girl to wallow in her shame with all the scrutinising looks sent her way.

Walking through the hallway of the house, Jotaro leaned on the wall, catching his breath. That fucking bitch really got on his nerves. He was a horny drunk, he knew that. But he didn’t think he’d get this drunk this fast. And while he had been doing very well at keeping himself in check, she just HAD to harass him.

Reaching down, Jotaro palmed his boner, hissing in both relief as well as annoyance. He really needed to get rid of it. He knew he got it from the alcohol flooding his system that made him sensitive to literally any touch, not that woman’s grinding, but there was still that little seed that made him hate himself for getting a fucking erection from her movements.

Angry, drunk and dizzy, Jotaro continued to stumble through the hall. He wanted to get out of here, but for that he needed his unofficial plus one.

As if the gods heard him, next thing he knew, he bumped into someone.

You yelped as you got bodied and stumbled back a bit, but soon looked up to see Jotaro there, looking angrier than you had seen him in a long time.

“Are… you okay? Jotaro?” You asked when you didn’t get a response immediately.

“Yeah.”

His voice was slightly slurred and you instantly noticed how drunk he actually was. “Okay, we’re leaving. You’ve had enough.” With that, you put your arm around his waist to support him.

“‘Was planning to anyways.” He murmured and you huffed a little in amusement.

“Come on then, big boy. Let’s get you hoME-!?” Your last word burst into surprise as Jotaro had suddenly turned you around and pushed you into the wall.

Without much of an excuse, he rushed his lips into yours, fully eclipsing your body as he greedily let his hands roam your body.

Your noise of surprise was swallowed by him as he refused to back away, relishing the feel of your lips as with every shift he made, he could feel his erection straining in his pants. He had been wanting you all evening and now that he was pent up and frustrated? He wanted you bad.

Pulling away only briefly, Jotaro barely had enough motor function to pull it off, but somehow managed to lift you against the wall, burying his head in your neck as he pushed his hips into yours, allowing you to feel how hard he was.

Before he continued he quickly pushed away however, remembering what got him here and refusing to force himself on you like that woman did on him.

Instead, he kissed you again, pushing his chest into yours needily, but refraining from grinding into you, a change from a few seconds ago that left you highly confused.

Breaking the kiss, Jotaro let his mouth drift over your jaw, leaving open mouthed kisses and bites until he reached your earlobe, which he gently took between his teeth, pulling slightly, leaving himself some time to pant and catch his breath.

Your hands were in his hair, your nails scraping over his scalp leaving him to groan in delight, feeling a jolt of arousal shoot down his spine because of it.

“Y/N, I need you.” He breathed heavily, holding you close against him as he still kept you up to the wall.

“J-Jotaro.” You spoke, flustered beyond compare. If anyone walked in now, there was no mistaking what was going on. “Let me down, we-“

“Please.”

It was a small plea, but one you heard loud and clear even as it was muttered into your neck, followed by small kisses.

This man was gonna be the death of you.

“Okay. But not here. Let’s get home first.”

That seemed to do it for Jotaro, as he happily perked up, putting you back on your feet with only a little stumble, to which you quickly grabbed his shoulder to try and steady him.

He really had drank too much for his own good. But then again, you did tell him to let loose. It was why you merely held juice in your hands the entire evening.

Slinging one arm around his waist and the other over your shoulders, Jotaro grumbled he could walk just fine but didn’t make any move to untangle himself from you, making you huff an amused chuckle as you started guiding him back to the main room, intent to get to the door and get home.

As you walked back in, all the noises that were slightly drowned out before came in full blast. Sweat and the tangent smell of alcohol the main things assaulting your poor nose.

You walked Jotaro past the edge of the room, hugging the walls a bit, when suddenly a girl to the right perked up upon seeing the tall man on your right side. Yet before she could do anything, Jotaro used his free right hand - which wasn’t slung over your shoulder - to flip her off the entire time you and him walked past.

Even with the dim lighting, you watched her turn an indignant red, making you wonder what the hell happened.

None of that was on your mind right this moment, as you finally reached the door. Opening it up with only a little effort - given Jotaro was happy simply staring at you struggle - you walked out, finally getting some fresh air again, which seemed to hit Jotaro like a truck as he let out a little pained groan.

Fuck, he needed that to flush out the cheap party.

“Let’s get to the car, c’mon.“ Tapping his arm to get his attention, you were already looking forward, missing the way Jotaro’s pupils dilated as he looked from the car further down the street and back to you.

Dragging the man with you suddenly no longer seemed too much of a problem, as you reached the car in no time.

Letting Jotaro go and leaning him against the vehicle, you grabbed your purse and started rummaging through for the keys, yet before you could even really look inside, Jotaro’s form eclipsed you. He grabbed your face between his hands before roughly kissing you, his thick tongue taking advantage of the surprise kiss by passing your parted lips without trouble.

A muffled noise left you as you flailed your arms a bit, not expecting any of it, but Jotaro didn’t seem to care as he let one hand sneak down to cup your ass, giving it a loving squeeze while his other grabbed your wrist. Guiding the hand not currently in your purse forward, Jotaro placed it over his straining erection, pushing your palm into it in slow gyrations and making him release a heavy groan into your mouth.

Too stunned to speak, you just stood there as Jotaro practically humped into your hand, his own hand exploring your ass with fervour as he didn’t seem to feel the need to breathe any longer.

You however, very much needed to. Pulling back caused Jotaro to simply push his head forward with you, his tongue still roaming every inch, and you quickly pulled your free hand out of your purse to tap out on his shoulder.

Immediately, Jotaro broke the kiss, allowing you the breathing room you needed, though your bottom lip was briefly still trapped between his teeth as something akin to a growl left the man.

“Nngh.” You made the small noise and Jotaro honestly grinned, squeezing your ass in appreciation.

“I want to hear all your noises.” Pushing forward to kiss again, Jotaro landed small pecks on your mouth repeatedly, right up until you looked left and away from him, towards the car.

“Jotaro, not out in the open.” You sighed softly in bliss, feeling yourself having gotten wet already thanks to his actions.

“I love you.” He mumbled as he kissed and sucked your cheekbone, as if he was thinking he was still kissing your lips.

“I love you too but you’re horny and drunk.” You chuckled a little as you finally produced your keys from your purse, unlocking the car.

Turning back to Jotaro - who had pulled back slightly upon you moving your head - you pulled your hand away from where he had still been pushing it into his crotch, and instead placed both hands on the side of his neck, smiling at your drunk boyfriend before pulling him in for a sweet, short kiss.

“Let’s get home.” You smiled and slid out of his hold, starting to open the passenger door. Before you could open it even halfway though, Jotaro placed his hand on the window and slammed it back shut. “Jo-?” Sweeping you off your feet, Jotaro held you firmly against his body, taking a step forward to instead open the backseat door.

“Jotaro!” You called out, but the man simply ducked down and tossed you into the backseat, almost falling on top of you with how he bent down to do so, no balance really left in him.

Taking it in stride however, Jotaro simply crawled after you into the car and on top of you, having Star Platinum slam the door shut behind him as he focused on hovering over you, ignoring his hat that had fallen off his head and to the floor of the car.

“I just want to fuck my girlfriend.” He growled lowly as he took the car keys from you and clicked the car locked before tossing them to the floor, your eyes wide at the hunger in his eyes. Yet Jotaro wasted no time as he then descended down on you, his hands grabby at your waist and hoisting your left leg up to lock around his hips as he kissed you. It was sloppy and messy, but it was so needy for you that you couldn’t help but melt into him.

Would you rather be at home doing this? Yes. But you figured there was more than enough privacy in the car, deciding to throw him a bone just this once. If he regretted doing it in such a public place once he sobered up, that was his mistake.

Swinging your other leg over his hip as well, you locked your ankles behind him before reaching up and grabbing the lapels of his coat, pulling him more onto you.

Not expecting this action and holding not even half the balance and reaction time he normally had, Jotaro crashed his chest on top of you, thankfully still holding firm with his knees, but he was forced to let your leg go to instead place the hand beside your head.

Pulling back from the kiss, Jotaro was panting as he pushed himself up just a little bit, looking down at you as you smirked. “So? Fuck me then.”

That was all Jotaro needed to hear as he tore his jacket and shirt off, throwing them to the front seat before yanking your shirt over your head and doing the same. Just to make his life a little bit harder, as he reached for your bra, you lifted your hips to roll your pelvis into his, making him stifle a groan.

His mouth hung open as he turned his half lidded eyes up to you, almost challenging you to dare try that again.

So, of course you did.

Grabbing your hips to still you, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looked at you. A glint you both liked and were wary of.

Within the blink of an eye, Jotaro had unbuttoned your pants and slid them down your thighs. Helping by pulling back your legs, you allowed the drunk man to completely slide them off you, your shoes taken with them.

Sitting back on his haunches, Jotaro then leaned forward to hover his upper body over you, reaching his right hand forward to place it on your underwear, pushing slightly. There was a damp spot already and Jotaro hummed, observing your body greedily.

“Not even matching?” He questioned with a dark rumble, making a blush form on your face more so than you already had, watching as he eyed the difference in pattern and colour of your panties and bra.

“Well I didn’t expect you to hound me like this!” That was a lie. You absolutely expected Jotaro to want to fool around, you just didn’t have the energy or time to worry about your choice of ‘lingerie’. He’d be drunk and take them off anyways.

“No matter.” The man then smirked and you felt an excited flutter in your abdomen, watching as he started lowering himself, his fingers starting to run slow circles on your clothed pussy, making you shift your hips, to which his left hand shot forward to push them down. “Be a good girl and stay put now.” He muttered, the usually low timbre of his voice seeming enhanced by the alcohol in his system, making you bite your lip at the command.

Stilling as best as you could, Jotaro smiled a little before taking his hand off your underwear, instead gripping underneath the fabric and starting to pull it down.

Your sticky cunt now exposed to the air, Jotaro slid your panties only halfway down your thighs before he abandoned them in favour of running his fingers through your folds. You were wet and so warm for him, making his breathing grow a little deeper as his eyes glid up to lock with yours.

There was that mischievous glint again and you realised just a second after he already started leaning down, what he was up to.

Ducking under your panties still stuck on your thighs, Jotaro firmly held your hips in his hands as he buried his head between your legs.

Hot, panting breaths fanned over your pussy and you looked down to see Jotaro staring at you, his eyes half lidded and pupils fully blown out, barely leaving any room for the usually beautiful aquamarine.

Releasing your hip with his right hand, Jotaro reached up to instead grab your wrist, guiding your hand down and placing it on his head, pushing your fingers deep into his hair.

Understanding his message, you grabbed his hair in your fist and pulled, guiding him to put his lips on your cunt.

Jotaro held an erogenous zone on his scalp, making a groan flutter from his mouth when your nails scraped it as you balled your fist, delighting in your guiding of his head. Gladly, the man let you push his head down, enveloping his lips over your heat.

A sigh left you and Jotaro squeezed your hips with his hands, licking a long stripe up your pussy lips before pushing the flat of his tongue firmly onto your clit.

He started repeating this process, every time teasing his tongue by prodding at your entrance before moving on, slowly lapping up all the wetness that had accumulated, giving all the attention to your clit that he deemed necessary, making your thighs clench and trap his face, your fist clenching and unclenching in his hair.

“Nngh… Jotaro, please.” You softly moaned, words barely there, though Jotaro heard every syllable.

“Please what?” He hummed, flicking his tongue over your clit directly after, making your breathing turn more laboured.

“More, please.” You didn’t want to speak out, too embarrassed to be any louder than a mutter, and Jotaro chuckled.

He lifted his head a little, making you whine at the loss of contact and able to view the drunken flush on his cheeks paired with a small smug grin - the damn alcohol making him more playful than usual.

“More?” He hummed in mock question, ducking his head down and slowly dragging his tongue over your folds, pushing a little harder than before. Simultaneously, his hands snaked up your body from your hips, reaching the only piece of clothing left on you as he bypassed it in favour of grabbing both your breasts and squeezing firmly. “Like this?”

“No.” You whined slightly, shifting your hips unhappily, to which Jotaro pressed his body forward, trapping your thighs with his shoulders and upper arms to push your hips back into the car seat now that his hands were occupied.

“What do you want?”

“More..” you clenched your teeth and arched your back a little when Jotaro squeezed and fondled your breasts in reaction, knowing full well that wasn’t what you wanted. “Jotaro-“

“What do you want?”

“More.”

“What. Do you. Want.”

Provoked beyond measure, teased with mere touches and shallow pleasure, you tightened your fist in his hair and roughly yanked his hair, pushing it down and grinding his face into your cunt. “When I say more, I want more.”

The pain flaring from his scalp paired with your growling words pulled a full fucking moan from Jotaro, the heavy exhale on your wet heat making you bite your lips before he immediately and obediently stuck his tongue deep into your cunt.

“Fuck-!” You tried to stifle your voice, Jotaro roughly pulling and rolling your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers while you continued to tug his hair with every jolt of pleasure that he brought forth.

Pushing his nose into your clit, Jotaro opened his jaw wide, pushing fully into you as he thrust his tongue as deep and far in as he could, small noises of pleasure escaping his full lips as he tongue fucked you, tasting you every step of the way, the way his nose bumped into your clit making your toes curl and feet unable to sit still.

“Just like that, keep going.” You groaned. Suddenly giving a harsh tug on his scalp, you muttered, “Good boy.” making Jotaro’s dick twitch where it was still confined in his pants.

It made him realise how painful it was to stay like that, given how he needed to sit folded up to be able to sit like this with you, causing his pants to be completely taut, no leeway for his erection.

Sliding his hands out of your bra, Jotaro never stopped eating you out but his hands travelled to his pants, undoing his belts one at a time before shoving his pants down his hips, huffing out of his nose from the relief of being out of those tight pants. For now, he just left them around his knees, one hand going back up to curl around your thigh and hold you, while his right travelled down to the prominent tent in his boxers.

Right as he palmed himself however, you spoke up through your moans. “Don’t touch yourself, baby.”

Halting his hand automatically, he briefly stopped his ministrations on you as he lifted his eyes to meet yours, seeing a familiar glint in them. Calculating his options for just a moment, Jotaro decided to obey you, taking your words from earlier to heart. ‘Good boy.’ Tonight, he was your good boy. Even if he was going to fuck that wannabe dominant attitude out of you in a bit.

Lifting his hand away from his erection, you hummed in satisfaction before tilting your head back and squeezing your eyes shut as he picked up his movements again.

Lifting his hand previously on his own underwear up, Jotaro curled it around your leg and pressed his thumb into your clit instead.

He was eating you out so well, your hips restless as they kept wanting to shift but were unable to thanks to his other hand still pushing you down. Your orgasm built up, the coil in your abdomen tightening with every press and rub to your clit, with every push of his wet muscle to your inner walls, every groan that left Jotaro.

His masochistic side shone with every hair pull that got a tiny moan out of him, every scratch from your nails on his arm that made him double his efforts on you, every grunt he huffed into your cunt when your heels dug into his bare back.

Pulling back, Jotaro lifted himself away from your heat for a moment, taking a few much needed breaths while he continued rubbing your clit. “Nono, Jotaro, please, ‘m so close, please.” You whined, trying to push his head back down, to which he obediently listened after a second, his tongue going back to abusing your walls. “That’s it, good boy, keep going.” You moaned out, the heat flashing in your body making your voice higher pitched.

You were a sweating and panting mess, chasing your high as you tried to grind up into Jotaro, but his grip on your hip still held firm.

You were spewing a mantra of ‘good boy, good boy, good boy.’ now, and when his thumb directly pressed down firmly on your clit, the coil snapped.

Throwing your other hand into his hair, you pushed down with both arms as you moaned loudly, completely burying his head between your legs as your orgasm washed over you, your thighs firmly locking around his head and prohibiting any form of escape.

In his surprise, Jotaro’s hold on your hip faltered and you instantly grinded up into his mouth, feeling the man lap up your juices despite his surprise, his thumb still on your clit guiding you through your orgasm and prolonging it.

Only once his licking became unbearable did you release the chokehold on his head, whining as you let your thighs fall sideways, splaying you completely open for the man who still lay between your legs, his thumb still pressed down on your clit though not moving.

“See? It’s not so hard to tell me what you want.” Jotaro smirked after catching his breath, summoning Star Platinum to take your panties down your thighs, freeing him to sit up as he pleased, finally lifting his hand away from your clit.

You were a panting and sweating mess, looking up at the godlike figure that was your boyfriend, only his underwear keeping you from that delicious image of having him naked and all for yourself.

He wiped off his face with his pants that he had fully taken off just a moment before, shoes left forgotten on the floor, and turned his head to watch you sitting up, taking your bra off before tossing it to the front with the rest of the clothes.

Jotaro was sitting with one knee under him on the seat and the other on the floor of the car, but that wouldn’t do for you. Crawling over to him, you placed your left hand on his shoulder, your other pushing on his chest. “Sit down for me, baby.”

“Mmn, no.” Jotaro hummed, his hands shooting out to grab your hips. There was a small, lazy smile on his face as he stared up and down at your naked form before attempting to pull you in and make out, but you dodged his lips in favour of biting harshly into his neck.

A surprised groan left him as his eyes widened and when you gave a sudden and rough push on his chest, he stumbled back, falling off of sitting on his leg to instead stumble onto his ass, his leg shooting forward to rest on the floor with the other while you drove him into the corner of the car, half pressed up to the window.

Releasing his flesh to see the pretty mark, you pulled back to smirk at Jotaro with a dark look, tracing a finger over the imprint of your teeth as you looked at his widened eyes, on full display thanks to his lack of hat and inhibitors.

“See, that’s not so hard now, is it?” You mocked his words from before and Jotaro squinted his eyes.

He opened his mouth to retaliate but you didn’t let him as you pushed your palm into his erection, giving it a squeeze that made the words die in his throat with a choked noise as he braced himself on the window from the unexpected action.

His love for tighter underwear was now working against him as you palmed and squeezed him through his boxers while sucking a harsh hickey into his neck, abusing the poor skin way beyond what was comfortable, the sting from it making his toes curl.

You knew he loved the pain, especially given how heavily he was breathing as you firmly pushed into his erection, moving onto a different place of his neck to bite and suck.

Letting go of his clothed member, you instead focused fully on that, Jotaro groaning at the loss of friction as you brought your hand up to place it on the side of his neck currently not occupied by your lips and teeth.

“Y/N…” He sighed needily, tilting his head back as his hands firmly gripped and squeezed your waist.

“What’s that, darling?” You purred as you set your nails in his arms and squeezed, making his breath hitch.

Clenching his teeth, Jotaro got his mind back as he reached one hand up to tangle in your hair, using it to hold the back of your head. With that and the grip still on your waist, Jotaro pushed you back before roughly pushing your head down into his crotch.

A surprised gasp left you at the sudden roughness of his actions and you heard him growl above you. “You’re not the one in control here, darling. Now suck.”

Feeling your heart speed up and start to thud rapidly at his low voiced command, you shifted back on the car’s couch until you were comfortably on your knees, bending forward to touch the edges of Jotaro’s underwear.

You briefly looked up at him, seeing his face flushed and eyes hazy, partly from the intoxication and partly from arousal. “Go on.” He urged and with that you pulled his boxers down his hips, his cock springing up, finally free from its confinement.

Jotaro let out a small sigh of relief while you swallowed greedily at the sight of his dick. You’d never get tired of it, big, thick and imposing and just perfect to absolutely stretch you out.

Apparently you sat still too long, for Jotaro warningly tightened his hand in your hair before slowly dragging your face to hover over it. “Suck.”

Glancing up into his eyes with a little bit of brattiness, you smirked. “Yes, sir.”

Jotaro’s eyes widened but before he could retaliate, you took the head into your mouth and immediately sucked harshly, making Jotaro throw his head back and groan loudly, the soft bonk from his head hitting the partially fogged up window sounding out.

Swirling your tongue around his member and spending extra time on that little point on the underside, it took Jotaro’s hand tightening in your hair for you to slowly start bobbing up and down.

Small groans and other little noises left the man and to help him even further, you brought your hand up to pump what you currently didn’t have in your mouth.

Despite having plenty of experience regarding this, fitting Jotaro’s entire cock was something you weren’t adept at yet, though you always got far.

Focusing on relaxing your throat, you opened your jaw further and slowly started taking him deeper, getting halfway where you closed your lips around him and sucked harshly.

Jotaro moaned loudly at that, his hips instinctively rutting up, forcing you to take him a little deeper.

“Fuck-!” Jotaro hissed through his teeth. Putting his hips back on the seat as you took his action in stride, thankfully having been prepared for it. You started bobbing your head up and down again, now taking him deeper than before and Jotaro looked down on you. With the current angle, he couldn’t really see you, only having a view of the back of your head.

Pleasure shot through him as he felt his orgasm approaching, your hand roughly pumping the base of his cock, occasionally squeezing to make his breath hitch, your warm mouth enclosing him so perfectly, your tongue swirling around his head every time you pulled up, your teeth occasionally ever so lightly scraping the vein on the underside. Fuck, you did it all so well.

Feeling a tug on your scalp, you felt your head get angled to the side, glancing up from the corner of your eyes to see Jotaro transfixed on the way you were swallowing him. Wanting to smirk a little, you didn’t even get a chance to tilt the corners of your lips up as you felt Jotaro’s hand once more tighten in your hair - it being the only warning you got before he pushed your head down completely, forcing you to take the last bit of his dick.

Your hand was forced away as he buried your nose in his thigh, the coarse hair running around his pelvis extending to there, rubbing onto your face as you choked.

Your throat trying to close up around him made Jotaro moan loudly and he kept you pushed down for two seconds longer to feel more before he finally let up and pulled you back up, allowing you to breathe and cough.

Despite you doing that however, your hand shot back on his spit-soaked member, starting to pump up and down quickly while your mouth was preoccupied.

“Oh, fuck.” Jotaro panted, his hips getting a little restless while his member twitched and you knew he was close.

Calming down, you glanced over at your boyfriend to see him already looking at you, his mouth hanging open so prettily while he conveyed his thoughts through a single look.

Understanding what he meant, you took a few more deep breaths before starting to lean down, but before you could, Jotaro let go of your waist to instead push you back up by your shoulder, making you sit up on your knees.

“Jotaro?” You breathed softly in confusion, having let go of his member as you were watching as he slowly sat up.

He rose until he was hovering before you, his right leg on the car floor while his left knee was on the seats, partially standing up inside the car to give you the perfect angle, his erect cock standing right before your face.

“I want to see you.” Were his words and you squeezed your thighs together before leaning forward and taking him back in your mouth, looking up at Jotaro’s eyes as he greedily took everything in.

He let you remain in control for now, just watching as you started bobbing up and down again, the hand previously pumping him now instead reaching out to gently fondle his balls.

A soundless moan left him, coming out mostly as a delayed choked noise while he never took his eyes off you. “That’s it, keep going.” He softly spoke, his hand still on your shoulder slowly sliding up until it rested on your throat, feeling his own cock move in and out with it.

Moaning again, Jotaro briefly squeezed his eyes shut, his leg bent at the knee restless as he felt himself get close. “I’m gonna-“ He stuttered, quickly opening his eyes again to watch how his dick repeatedly disappeared into your lips.

That, paired with the suck you gave him sent him over the edge and Jotaro quickly yanked your head down, shoving your face fully into his pubes now that you weren’t sideways as he unloaded into your throat.

You choked noisily, your throat attempting to close up around Jotaro’s member again, instead milking it for all he was worth as he came directly into you.

A string of expletives left him as he pushed as much into your mouth as he could right up until he was spent, quickly pulling back then as you coughed and hacked, breathing heavily as you tried to come to your senses.

Jotaro quickly sat down and gently grasped your face, wiping his thumbs under your eyes to catch the tears unwittingly falling down.

“Ssh, sssh, you did so good, thank you.” Jotaro shushed as he pulled you into his chest, briefly sitting there with you as you slowly caught your breath while he came down from his high.

“You’re too horny.” You breathed after a short while, making Jotaro chuckle.

“And yet you’re here with me.” He grinned a little as he nuzzled the side of your neck, pressing kisses into it.

“Who’s the one who threw me into the backseat and pushed their dick into my throat?” You scoffed as you tried to angle your head away from him in mock disapproval, to which Jotaro simply followed, still pressing kisses into your skin.

“I did nothing you didn’t do first, plus, we both know you love it.” He muttered that last part into your ear and you could feel his smirk against your skin.

“You’re awful.”

“And you’re wet.”

Feeling blood rush to your face as he lowly said that into your ear, it didn’t take long before you felt Jotaro’s hand start to slide down your body, taking it slow on purpose as he made his way to where you ached.

“Jotaro.” You whined softly, making Jotaro smirk - there was that submissiveness he liked to see.

“I know what you want, you’re soaking my thigh for it.” Jotaro hummed and you clenched your legs together, making the man chuckle.

Turning you around, he moved you from sitting sideways until your back was pressed into his front.

“Be a good girl and spread your legs.” He muttered directly into your ear, pressing a slow kiss to your skin afterwards.

Listening to his words, you obediently opened your legs wide. If anyone were to pass by the front of the car and look through the windshield now, they would see you on full display, even with how fogged up it was.

“That’s it.” Jotaro praised, gripping your thigh firmly with his right hand and keeping your legs spread open that way while his left travelled down, gliding through your slick folds. “Mnh, you almost make me want to eat you out again.” Jotaro growled, rubbing up and down slowly, pushing his fingers through your labia but making sure to not dip into your entrance.

“Jotaro.” You breathed needily, your chest moving up and down rapidly while you lifted your arms to lock around his head, holding the back of his neck and the back of his shoulder desperately.

“I’m gonna make sure you’re ready for me. I don’t want to wait once I’m finally inside you.” Jotaro growled and you could feel him start to get hard again, making you squirm softly if it weren’t for his grip on the inside of your thigh.

Done with teasing, Jotaro slid his hand down and immediately pushed two fingers into your entrance, sliding in with barely any strain or effort given how wet you were and his previous ministrations.

You sucked for breath as he immediately started a harsh pace, fingering you without remorse as you pushed back into him, feeling him stretch your hole out steadily, his fingers starting to scissor already before he quickly added a third finger, barely giving you any time.

You tried to stifle your noises as best as possible while his palm ground into your clit, making you tilt your head back to rest it on Jotaro’s shoulder, giving him the perfect angle to suck hickeys into your skin.

Wrapping your legs around his to try to keep them open, you felt Jotaro finger you, his lips on your neck as his movements from down below created obscene noises. The moment he felt you ready, he slipped in a fourth finger, the stretch burning while he continued to pleasure you, finding the sweet spot on your neck and making a moan slip past your lips.

Letting your skin go, Jotaro instead pushed the side of his head against yours, looking down at his fingers disappearing into you from over your shoulder, groaning lowly as he imagined it being his cock quite soon.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you all evening.” He started, breathing heavily. “All fucking evening you left me to myself, and I just had to deal with your brattiness. Do you deserve to cum for that?” He questioned, his brain just shutting off as he continued to finger you, his drunk mind taking over.

“I didn’t, I-“ a moan interrupted you as Jotaro made a particular rough movement, his fingers now sliding in and out without much resistance.

Quickly pushing in, Jotaro used his fingers in your cunt to push your back into his chest, his hand on your inner thigh moving up to grasp your neck and push you even further into him.

“Did it really have to take me getting harassed for you to give me what I want?” He growled and your eyes widened, his words poking through the veil of lust you held.

“W-What?” You gasped, shifting your hips to try and get out of his chokehold but failing as Jotaro pushed you back up with both hands.

“I will ask again.” He hummed, shifting his thumb sideways to instead press directly into your clit, gyrating slowly and making you moan. “Do you deserve to cum for that?”

“I- Jotaro-“ You tried once again to shift away, trying to pull your hands back down from where you held them locked behind his head, but finding yourself unable to do so as a pair of ghostly hands held them tight. “Please-“ You gasped and Jotaro hummed questioningly.

“Is that a yes?”

“No, I-“ Jotaro’s ministrations on your clit didn’t stop, the man leaning down to suck bruises into your neck again, making you whine loudly. He wasn’t going to elaborate on what he just said until you did as he asked. So, you just squeezed your eyes shut and opened your mouth. “Yes! Please!”

Gasping for breath, the coil in your belly tightened beyond belief as your orgasm approached, but before it could, Jotaro lifted his thumb away from your clit and pulled his fingers back from your hole.

Letting an unhappy noise pass your lips, Jotaro chuckled. “I disagree. You can’t cum until I do.” He growled into your ear before rapidly wrapping his arms under your body and lifting you up, turning around and laying you down on the car seats, hovering over you himself.

You gasped at the quick move but now held your breath to see Jotaro hover so closely over you, his eyes completely dark and hooded over as he looked at you with lust.

“I’m going to fuck you ragged and you’re going to like it.” He growled out and his words shot straight to your heat.

Leaning to the right, Jotaro reached towards the floor of the car, swinging his hand back and forth for a second before he found what he was looking for.

Pulling your purse closer to himself, he stuck his hand inside and pretty quickly procured a condom from it.

Pulling his hand back up, he tore the package open before rolling the latex down his length with practised ease. “Ready?” He asked as he situated himself over you again, lining his hips up with yours until the tip of his dick rested at your entrance.

“Yeah.” You nodded and Jotaro’s face just barely morphed into a smirk before he leaned down and slammed his lips to yours, prodding his tongue past your lips at the same time he thrust inside your cunt.

You both groaned into each other’s mouth at the same time, but Jotaro held no time to wait. He barely even gave you a second as he pulled his hips back before starting to slam into you.

You gasped and Jotaro firmly pushed his head down onto yours, his hands moving down to grasp your thighs, squeezing the plush flesh as he thrust his hips into yours harshly. Pulling your legs up, he urged you to lock them over his waist and you did just that, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you desperately clung to him.

Small, pleasured noises of exertion left him with every thrust into you, his breathing through his nose erratic as he kept your lips connected, his thick tongue practically down your throat as you just let it happen, no thought to kiss back as you were just laying there with your mouth open, small moans leaving you with each snap of his hips as his mouth desperately tried to stifle your noises somewhat.

His balls slapped into your ass, the man on top of you not slowing down as he rapidly chased his orgasm while reawakening yours.

Breaking the kiss to breathe, both of your noises sounded out loudly through the car that shook with each of Jotaro’s thrusts, jiggling your body, much to the marine biology student’s appreciation.

“Waited all fucking evening for this.” Jotaro huffed through his thrusts, becoming more brutal in his movements while he in contrast leaned down and wrapped his arms under yours, holding you close as he buried his head in your neck.

He held you so gently while fucking you so harshly and any volume control you had left over your voice left, just moaning shamelessly as the man pounded into you.

“So- fucking- pretty.” Jotaro growled, accentuating each word with a thrust while you buried your head into his neck.

Your nose bumped into the raw bruises you had left there earlier, a sting flaring from it that made him pick up the pace.

Getting closer to his orgasm, Jotaro started making louder noises, the noises of exertion from before continuing but evolving into small moans, his hips stuttering a bit as he continued to abuse your hole.

Leading his hand down, Jotaro started to rub your clit, making you shoot your eyes wide open as a moan was ripped from your throat. You had already been trying to keep your orgasm in, trying to wait until his as he told you to, but if he continued like this you wouldn’t last.

“Please, Jotaro, I’m gonna cum.” You begged, pulling him closer as you lightly bit his shoulder to try and stifle your noises.

Jotaro groaned as you did but he didn’t slow any of his movements. “Don’t cum until I do, you hear me?” He growled out but then dropped his head down to bury into your neck. “I’m close, just a little longer.” He breathed frantically, snapping his hips into yours with a desperation.

“Jotaro-!” Your calling of his name had him forego abusing your clit to instead tightly grab your hips and pull you into each of his thrusts.

Drool and tears mixed on your face as you just took him, almost feeling drunk yourself from the rhythmic thrusting of his cock, your walls squeezing tight around him as you tried to stave off your orgasm, making Jotaro forced to slow down to push through the tightness, curses leaving him as he did.

“Jotaro, I’m gonna-!”

“Not yet!” He shouted, his hands on your hips squeezing hard enough to leave bruises as he drilled into you.

His dick twitching inside, his hips stuttered heavily and you couldn’t help yourself anymore, tumbling into your orgasm with a wail of his name. Your walls tightly clung to him, trying to milk him for all he was worth, and that proved too much for the raven.

Burying himself balls deep into your cunt, Jotaro came - hard. Ropes of cum shot out as his groans devolved into a low moan, the man holding you close as you felt warmth bloom inside you.

“Shit-!” Jotaro gasped that out, noticing what was wrong even in his drunken state but unable to do anything but let out a drawn moan and push his hips even further into yours, his orgasm spurting out and keeping him from moving in any other way.

Your eyes widened a little as you lay there panting with Jotaro, trying to calm down, yet a nervous pit formed in your stomach.

“Fuck, was that-?”

“I think the condom broke.” Jotaro affirmed, breathless after coming down from his high.

He really didn’t want to pull out so fast, preferring to stay buried inside you for a few minutes and calm down with you, but the current worry made him slowly withdraw, pulling out completely and seeing a trickle of his cum follow after.

His breath hitching at the sight, he had to steel himself ‘cause - fuck that looked so good.

Taking a deep breath, he instead focused down on the failed latex. Sure enough, there was a tear in the top, the condom not succeeding to catch even anything.

“Fuck, it’s completely broke.” Jotaro groaned, unable to take his eyes off your pussy. He didn’t think seeing his cum leaking out of you would turn him on so bad…

You quickly went to sit up, wanting to see for yourself, but before you could, Jotaro slammed his hands on your stomach and pinned you down, transfixed on what was going down below.

“Jotaro?” You spoke, feeling a heavy blush on your cheeks from how intensely he stared.

“Just- don’t move yet. I’ll buy you a morning after pill tomorrow, just stay for a second…”

Almost as if to affirm his words, he pushed down lightly on your stomach. All it succeeded in however was pushing some more cum out of you and Jotaro groaned in appreciation, feeling himself get hard again because of it.

“Shit, you look so pretty all stuffed with my cum.”

Taking the useless condom off and just throwing it to the floor of the car, Jotaro crawled to hover over you again, his face mere centimetres from yours.

“Makes me want to fill you up all the time. Starting again with right now.”

With that, he slammed his mouth to yours, indulging in a harsh, sloppy make-out as he pumped himself a few times with his hand to get fully hard again and lined his member up.

The car wouldn’t be moving from the spot for just a while longer.

#jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo #hih’s hôrni works #jjba #jojo's bizarrre adventure #jotaro x reader smut #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jjba x reader #jotaro x you #jotaro x y/n

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years

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PREQUEL ARC: PART 3 - THE BOUNTY

A/N: Part 3 of Stitches has arrived! This chapter was difficult to write, I'll be honest. And I'd really appreciate any feedback if it doesn't read as well as the first two chapters or doesn't make sense or is boring etc. etc.

This is the penultimate prologue chapter, with the story very much shifting to surround the dynamic and growth of the readers relationship with Din so if you can hold out for me just a bit longer, I promise, I'll make it worth the wait. You know what I'm talking about friends.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: None

Summary: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

9 ABY, on the Hydian Way.

Din prided himself on the strength of his principles. An unwavering certainty in everything he did that gave him a modicum of peace as he wandered throughout the galaxy amidst wars, rebellions and the chaos that ensued in their aftermath.

He was certain when he took the Creed, when he sacrificed a future for himself in service of the covert; something he had never regretted to this day. He had never regretted any bounty taken; unmoved by pleas, promises or threats. Neither tears nor anger could sway his resolve.

Truly, he could count on one hand the things he regretted in life; the job on Alzoc III, challenging a fully grown Mandalorian to a fight while still a hot blooded, angry teenager, and not trying to pull his parents into the bunker where they had hidden him from Separatist droids as Aq Vertina was invaded.

In his line of work, there was seldom room for self-doubt. Inner conflict led to hesitation, which could be a death sentence for a bounty hunter.

And yet, as he came out of hyperspace, that unfamiliar gnawing presence in the pit of his stomach began to rear its’ head again. The job he had accepted was… dubious, to say the least.

Din snorted in self-deprecation; most of his jobs were dubious in nature.

What brought on this unnatural doubt, however, was that this was a job for Imperial remnants. Din wasn’t a fool; he knew half the jobs he had taken in the past could have been traced to the Imps if he cared enough to look, but taking a job from them personally… well, he didn’t know how to feel about that just yet.

He pondered the feeling in his stomach again and frowned. Was it doubt… or instinct? Instinct was his most trusted companion as he travelled through space alone. A tickle at the back of his neck, a wary step forward, even a flash of electricity down his spine; those were only some of the ways that instinct spoke to him. And he always listened.

An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach though? Never that.

If it was instinct, then he was going against his very nature in ignoring it. If it was doubt, based on some misguided sense of morality in dealing with the empire… that he could deal with. He could smother doubt with control and consistency; going through the motions of a job brought security and familiarity. Sooner or later, that doubt would make way for a stoic acceptance, a state that had gotten Din through some of his roughest years.

His eyes were drawn to his shoulder, where the glint of newly crafted beskar shone in the gentle lights of the cockpit.

A down-payment…

“Makers Helmet…” he groaned, running a gloved thumb and forefinger across his tired eyes to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as the pressure at the back of his skull increased due to the loop his thoughts were going in.

A job was a job. He circled back to his original thought that had led him to accept the clients offer. A job with a bounty greater than anything he could have ever hoped to receive in his lifetime, let alone in one go. It was mere sentimentality and conscience getting in the way of good business. That beskar could not only provide him with armor to reaffirm his loyalty to the covert, but assistance and support to the foundlings and those who raised them.

His resolved steeled. He had never regretted putting the covert before himself, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Turning his attention back to the navicomputer, he scanned the co-ordinates that his most recent lead had pointed to. He had hunted the trail of his latest bounty to the general direction of a vast area of space that straddled the outer reaches of the Outer Rim and halted as it reached Wild Space. There was nothing to stop the bounty from being in those unexplored parts of the galaxy, and if the tracking beacon led him that far, he would have to be ready. With no spaceport on any of the planets he had seen dotting the area on the navicomputer, he thought it wise to refuel and gather provisions should he be there for any prolonged period.

As he lazily assessed which planet to land on, his eyes were drawn to a familiar name. A memory brushed against his thoughts. Not necessarily a pleasant one, but not entirely unpleasant either. For the sake of fairness, Din scanned the planets surrounding the one he pondered; some were equally as well equipped for his needs but the majority he had not been on in years if ever. Somewhere he knew, even briefly, gave him more comfort than the unknown.

At least, that was what Din told himself as he punched in the co-ordinates of Dandoran, the flicker of warmth the memory brought him was something equally as unnatural as the doubt coiled in his stomach.

Bantha balls, maybe he had been poisoned again...

Din tossed a few credits to the human female who received the Razor Crest into the hanger she was managing.

“She needs to be refueled.” Was all he said as he made his way out of the hanger and into the not unfamiliar streets of Mynock. It didn’t look like much had changed in the several months since he was here last; the place was still crawling with a mixture of criminals, bounty hunters and people who just didn’t want to be found. All in all, a good example of most Outer Rim cities.

Mynock had two main pedestrian streets that ran for over two klicks and intersected at the middle. From what he could tell, all legitimate business ran from those two streets, the further into the alleyways and twisted lanes that branched off those two streets one ventured, the seedier the business.

From what he knew, the practice you worked at was on one of these main streets. He paused, causing a few disgruntled pedestrians to have to jerk to a halt and make their way around his imposing frame. He was not here socially. He was never anywhere socially. He shook his head; between self-doubt and sentimentality, the tight leash he usually kept himself on was looser than he remembered and he had no idea just when it had started to slack.

That could not continue. But being aware of a problem allowed him to deal with it. So, with a greater sense of fortitude, he mentally choked any distracting feelings beyond the determination to collect this bounty. That included the somewhat interesting possibility of seeing you again.

Thankfully, Din only needed to stick to the main streets. The road was flanked by stall upon stall of foodstuffs, clothing, trinkets, ammunition and what looked to be a husbandry of Massiff dogs. The large, reflective eyes turned to the Mandalorian; all bared fangs and hostile snarls. An understandable response by most non-sentients when a Mandalorian had no real physical cues they could read, being as covered as they were. Until he lifted his hand for the one closest to sniff, they could only assume he was a threat.

A sniff was usually all it took however, before the snarling stopped. Din brushed a hand over the scaly head as he continued on his way to collect what he came here for.

An hour later, and Din was feeling much more at ease as he picked up the last of the supplies he thought he may need; ration packs, bactapads, generic ammunition that he liked to keep well stocked on the ship and so on. He was once more mentally compiling the information he had gathered on the location of the bounty, running through various routes in his mind that would cover the most planets in the parsec in the shortest amount of time.

He nodded his thanks at the change the Rhodian merchant returned to him and began to make his way back to the Razor Crest. If it hadn’t been for the long flick of your hair in the tie you kept it up in when you turned your head to look at someone at a stall across the central walkway of the street, Din was certain he’d have walked on none the wiser. But alas, that same higher power that had gifted him with a keep perception of his surroundings cursed him in the same fell swoop as the movement attracted his attention.

He came up short, running a mental check on himself immediately. No, no injuries. His shoulder still ached on occasion from being dislocated six months earlier, but it was a phantom pain at most these days. He was fit as a mythosaur and he wasn’t about to have that good streak ruined by getting injured in your presence… again.

Din wondered if he could escape to his ship without you noticing; he didn’t want to tempt fate anymore than he already had. Plus, awkward interactions that left him feeling frustrated both mentally and physically were not high on the list of things he enjoyed, thank you very much.

As a Mandalorian, Din expected attention wherever he went. It was just something he chalked down to being a necessary evil to live by his Creed but he had never wanted to be more invisible than he did in that moment, thinking that at any moment he would be trip into a sarlacc pit or something equally unpleasant.

But you hadn’t seen him, thankfully; much more invested in the choices at the fishmonger’s stall.

Despite his better judgement however, he paused from slipping back to his ship silently.

He was taken by the slight pink flush that rose to your cheeks at something the woman behind the stall said, intrigued by the color and what caused it. Din tilted his head slightly. He had noticed you getting flushed in frustration or annoyance both times you had treated him. It was fascinating to see your cheeks flush for a reason other than irritation and anger.

That particular thought touched a dangerous part of Din’s mind, a part that made him wander into the realm of curiosity to ponder what else might make you blush like that.

Oh, but it was a delightful color on you, and he watched longer than he ought to, a small quirk lifting the corner of his lips. The image of domesticity as you adjusted the parcels of food already in your arms to accept the fish was so foreign to his eyes and certainly not one he ever associated with you until now. It spoke to a part of him that still slumbered but began to fidget in its sleep, on the verge of consciousness.

That tentative smile that he had unwittingly been giving into as he indulged his senses by watching you, dropped the moment three males approached you. The Twi’lek was standing too close for you to be comfortable and by the rigidity of your spine, he knew you were not.

You had taken a step away from the men easily, your body language read cautious but not fearful and he knew better than to underestimate your abilities to wrangle men into whatever position you wanted them in. He had first-hand experience in that department and honestly, it wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded in his head.

Din relaxed the grip he had unknowingly tightened on the blaster at his hip when you made to leave the stall, away from the three. He shook his head at himself; you had lived here for years. You knew how to handle yourself perfectly fine.

Letting out a breath, he was about to continue back to the ship when that same cursed perception caught the Twi’leks arm shoot out to grip your upper arm tightly, preventing your exit.

Din was behind you before he even realized he had moved.

You examined the range of fish on offer, eyes skeptically crossing off anything that looked like it had been sitting out too long or anything with more than four eyes. You weren’t squeamish by nature, but the fewer dead eyes that were staring at you while you prepared dinner, the better.

One of the few perks of Mynock, was its proximity to the Great Basin of Dandoran that opened out to one of the many oceans to cover the planet. Fresh seafood was a staple in the city and after years of ration packs between the Rebellion and Klatooine, eating fresh was a luxury you would never take for granted again. Your own home planet was mostly covered in water too; the greater population spread over countless clusters of islands where seafood was also the meal of choice for most. It was a tenuous connection but being able to cook dishes somewhat like the ones your mother made when you and your brothers were younger made it feel like you weren’t so far away.

You smiled to yourself at the thought as you pointed to the light blue colored Berbersian crabs, knowing the trawlers had come in only this morning that carried them. The claws were meaty with the slightest sweetness to their flavor that complimented most dishes. Not to mention that when cooked, they turned the most vibrant blue that their shells alone could be used for decoration and craft.

You chatted aimlessly with the fishmonger as she cleaned and prepared the translucent peachy pink fish you had also chosen for good measure.

“Busy at Biran’s?”

“When are we not busy?”

“It’s all them fights between the gangs. Folk say since the Hutts were chased out that things are better but it’s even more dangerous with the others tryin’ to take their place.”

You only gave a non-committal hum to that; you didn’t get involved in politics of any kind. Gang or otherwise.

The mindless chatter continued on nonetheless to more safe topics.

“Did I tell ye, Drea had her baby not three days ago. Another girl.”

“Poor Nej will have his hands full when they all get older.”

“I’m sure they’re dying for a boy at this point. Great excuse to keep sowin’ the crops though, ain’t it?”

“I’m sure they don’t need any excu—”

“Ever think of havin’ any of yer own? Yer well into that time of yer life, I’d say no?”

You blinked, nearly missing the bag of produce as she handed it across the stall to you. You could feel your face heat up at the direction this conversation had turned, and you definitely never thought you would be discussing your biological clock with a fishmonger over Berbersian crab.

“Well I---”

Movement from the corner of your eye stole your attention from that progressively awkward conversation and the no doubt insufficient answer you would have given as three males came to stand at the same stall, facing you. Your eyes scanned the trio sideways, not prepared to give them your attention unless it became unavoidable. There were two humans and a Twi’lek and given the way the humans flanked the large blue male; you had a fair idea about who was in charge as he sneered at you in what you assumed was meant to be a disarming smile.

The blasters at each of their hips and the emerald green coloring on the right sleeve of their jackets told you they belonged to one of the gangs the fishmonger had been complaining about not a few minutes earlier. This gang in particular, the Quai-Kisu or Emerald Dagger in Basic, were a faction that splintered off from the main Hutt crime syndicate once their influence in Dandoran lessened. Their trademark was spice smuggling but anyone with two braincells knew that they accepted the lesser charge to hide the true wealth of their criminal activity, flesh trafficking.

Suffice to say, you didn’t want anything to do with them and you most certainly didn’t want them to want anything to do with you.

“Can I help you?” You kept your eyes on them as you handed the fishmonger what you owed her when it was clear they weren’t going to leave; the woman wisely remaining quiet as she accepted the credits.

None of them responded immediately, and you wondered if this was a new scare tactic they were employing to make people anxious. The crimson hue of the Twi’leks eyes glinted as he contemplated you, running down your figure lazily before meeting your eyes again when you frowned,

“Ol’ man Biran available for a house call?” He rumbled, the sun catching the points of the filed canines as he spoke.

“I’m afraid Biran doesn’t make house calls anymore. Besides, he’s been under the weather for the last few days unfortunately.”

You reeled the lie off effortlessly, having learned over the years who Biran would tend to and who he would rather see succumb to whatever ailed them. It was a steep and difficult learning curve for you, your initial training taught you that you must do your utmost to save every life. Biran had laughed in derision, saying that that mindset wouldn’t serve you well out here. These were gangs, not the flyboys of Corellia. Saving one of their lives might condemn countless others. So while you struggled, you accepted that it was his practice and he made the rules and after over two years on Dandoran, you had seen enough victims of the gang warfare to not feel any pity when one of them suffered an injury.

“C’mon beautiful. One of our pals was injured in a… terrible, terrible accident.” The taller of the two human males, a lanky man with a neck that looked much too long and eyes that took way too much liberty in running over your body.

“There are other doctors in Mynock.” You replied steadily, “I’m sure one of them can help.”

To humor them any longer would be to encourage trouble, so you cut the conversation short and turned quite deliberately to make the point that the conversation was over, flashing the fishmonger a wan smile before turning back the way you came.

“We weren’t done talkin’ to you.”

Your eyes widened marginally when an iron grip closed around your upper arm, your free hand dropping the items in your arm immediately to click the safety off your blaster and lift it in the time it took for the Twi’lek to yank you into facing him again.

“Did I say you could lay a hand on me?” You hissed, the blaster pointing upward from where you held it close to your body towards the underside of the Twi’lek’s chin.

“Quite the little spitfire, ain’t she lads?” He crowed, amused by your action. His laughter was like shattered glass on your ears, making you want to wince, but you kept your hand steady even as your heart pounded. You received as much training as anyone when they joined the Rebellion, but your experience in actual combat beyond treating people on the front line was limited. You knew your own limitations, and that there was no way you would be able to take on all three of them.

The hand around your arm squeezed painfully and you clocked the blaster, lifting it closer to sit under the Twi’lek’s chin, “Release me. Now.”

And like most men of his ilk, he ignored you in favor of his own voice,

“From what we’ve seen, you work with the good doctor. Shouldn’t be a bother for you to fix him up. Nicer to look at too, eh fellas?” He tossed over his shoulder to the snickers of his lackeys.

“Then you can go back to target practice with your toy gun.” He chuckled darkly, leaning in where the pungent smell of his breath made you turn your head away in distaste, “That is, if we let you go at all.”

You swallowed thickly at the threat, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as your mind scrambled to come up with a solution, a way out, something. You felt the familiar sting of tears at the back of your eyes when each avenue came up blank. You couldn’t think of anything and suddenly, you felt so terribly alone in this shithole of a town on a faraway planet far from anyone who gave a bantha crap who would actually be able to help you.

Their laughter only grated on your already frayed nerves and pissed you off even more. You had fought too hard and suffered too much to let these assholes take the one thing you owned, your freedom. Your eyes flashed with anger and snapped back to the Twi’lek, ready to pull the trigger because if you were going out, it would be on your terms.

Their laughter suddenly ceased then, and you blinked. Had they copped that you planned to take at least one, maybe two of them out with you? Before you could figure it out, your arm was shoved away. You raised your now free hand to steady the blaster as you aimed it at them, but they were backing away, eyes averted.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” You growled, hiding the waver in your voice.

They said nothing in reply as the Twi’lek bared his teeth and made towards you again. One of the humans grabbed his arm and hissed something to him. You couldn’t make it all out, but you swore you heard a name you never thought you’d hear again.

Teff.

With one last growl and glare, the Twi’lek conceded to the advice of the humans and all three of them melted back into the crowds of Mynock leaving you to release a heavy breath as you lowered your weapon, replacing the safety with ease as your eyes continued to scan the street. You wanted to be certain they had really left.

“Huh, maybe they were smart after all.” You muttered to yourself, proud that you had dealt with the situation somewhat and holstered your blaster against your hip again, “Still got it girl.” You commended yourself as you stooped to pick up your dropped groceries.

A snorted, “I beg to differ” had you blinking up over your shoulder at the familiar, cocksure figure of the Mandalorian; a hand only grazing the blaster at his hip as he stood casually behind you, his head tilted down to look at you and a resounding sigh leaving his helmet when you smiled.

“Mando?”

An incline of his head was the only greeting you received before he crossed his arms across the wise expanse of his armored chest.

“One sec.”

You got back to your feet and, as if by instinct, ran your eyes over his body, “You didn’t poison yourself again, did you?” You teased lightly, realizing that you were seeing him uninjured for the first time. Well, the second time. But walking into a cantina to do battle with a Houk didn’t could in your estimation.

It gave you pause to notice things about him that you didn’t usually; the way he stood, leaning his weight back on his left foot that gave him an air of lazy arrogance that wouldn’t be misplaced in a loth-wolf relaxing in the winter sun. The strength of his thighs seems to be accentuated by the posture; one hand placed securely at his blaster. If you didn’t know any better, his stance was like an open challenge to every male around him; submit or suffer. But you did know him somewhat, and you knew that he didn’t need to lay down any challenge. He had already won the second he stepped off his ship. The wide breadth of space given to him by passers-by only highlighted that fact.

Even with every patch of skin covered, you could feel the raw power rolling off of him, or was it testosterone? Whatever it was, it tugged at a more primal instinct and ignited a slow, steady heat inside of you that made you both embarrassed and intrigued.

Okay, so you were attracted to the way the man stood. That was fine, that was acceptable. You were a warm-blooded woman in her prime who knew her desires and embraced them. Finding how a Mandalorian… stood, was just another interesting thing to add to your list of things you found attractive.

Along with a raspy baritone and penchant for trouble…

You know what, it was probably just a fantastic indication that you hadn’t been laid in a while, so you made a mental note to deal with that particular issue later.

“I never poisoned myself.” That same low, gruff voice rose to your bait so easily and you had to bite your lip not to laugh, his hand fisting at his side before he unclenched it. Probably thinking about strangling you, honestly. Now there was a thought, for later. Nope, it was definitely the recent dry spell that had you like this. And the sun. The sun always had a part to play in these delusions.

Mando seemed to figure out your game of teasing him however, when you couldn’t fully mask your smile and responded in kind,

“You’re welcome, by the way.” His voice rumbled and you were certain that if you were only a few inches closer, you would be able to feel the vibrations brush against you.

“For what?” You laughed in disbelief, “I had everything under control before you decided to strut into the fray.”

You tried to prevent the frown from creasing between your brows when you thought a little more on the situation. You had a blaster literally pointed to the neck of one of those thugs and they didn’t care. It didn’t even seem like Mando had drawn his weapon and all three had scarpered? Was there any fairness in the galaxy? Obviously not.

The unpainted helmet tilted, the impassive T-visor giving away nothing of its wearers feelings beyond the sigh that left him, “What did you plan to do? Shoot the son of a mudscuffer and have an entire gang out for blood in less than an hour? Yeah, that’s smart.” He snorted.

Your mouth fell open in incredulity, “Talk about the Jawa calling the Ewok short, you’d have done the exact same thing!” You cursed your short temper, especially when it came to the stubborn mule of a man in front of you. The fact that his voice never once rose frustrated you. It remained gravelly but soft, like the sound of pebbles and stones being pushed and pulled by the ocean you could hear from your bedroom as a child.

You were a mature person; you were proud of how you dealt with most things. But in this instance, you allowed your immature side to rear her head momentarily as you began to stalk back to the practice. A piss poor option since the Mandalorian scoffed and kept up with you easily, obviously not content with you having the last word.

“But I wouldn’t be so reckless to not think it through before shooting them.” He tipped his helmet back a little, as if he dared to look down his nose at you. Frustration simmered in your blood as your eyes narrowed at him sideways.

“I was wrong, you obviously are injured. A blow to the head this time was it, Mando? Must be hidden under that kettle you call a helmet” You let out an exasperated breath, shaking your head, “I’ve no cure for that unfortunately.”

You could have sworn you heard a soft noise that sounded remarkably like a chuckle, but it was so quiet and the streets so noisy that you were certain you were wrong.

When the door to the practice-come-living quarters for yourself and Biran came into view, you stopped short. How did you get back here so quickly? Looking over your shoulder, you realized you had led the Mandalorian on a merry chase to nowhere he needed to be. He didn’t look particularly fazed, but the small voice of guilt that sounded an awful lot like your mother had you opening your mouth before you could think twice,

“Do you want to come in?”

What possessed you to invite him in?

It was obvious from both the stilted way you asked and the drawn out, deeply awkward silence that followed. You were about to tuck tail and run inside, slam the door, and pretend you weren’t as mortified as you knew you were when he cocked his head. The movement made you pause in your escape, opening your mouth to tell him to forget about it before the words got lodged in your throat.

“Sure.” Was all he said, and that was how you found yourself staring at a fully armed Mandalorian taking up two thirds of the small settee in the living room to the back of the practice, his hands placed on each thigh as they spread a bit when he sat.

Biran, bless him, took up the last third of the same settee, unfazed by the type of man in his living room and chatting merrily about the last Mandalorian he had met over fifteen years ago.

“And that wasn’t you?”

“No.”

“Ah maybe someone you know then!”

“Maybe.”

Mando’s conversation skills were abysmal.

You didn’t have very high expectations in the first place, but watching it without being a participant, was downright comical. You hid your smile behind the glass of water you had fetched for yourself but the slight tilt of his helmet in your direction told you he had caught your amusement. For someone whose face you couldn’t see, you could practically feel his eyes narrow at you. It made the giddiness from being equal parts anxious and entertained from watching Mando try make nice with the elderly Mirialan rise again and you had to physically bite your lip to stop.

Mando wasn’t listening to Biran anymore, that much was obvious. He wasn’t even looking in his direction, more comfortable blatantly glaring at you instead. Biran was unfazed. Truly, the Mirialan didn’t need a response to have a conversation. A listening ear was sometimes all he wanted. It was a characteristic that endeared you to the him in the first place. The elderly were so often overlooked and written off, but when one only cared enough to listen, they would find themselves enriched with experiences no history book could ever compete with.

“…So how do you two know each other?”

Your attention was dragged back into the conversation so fast you might have given yourself whiplash. You blinked a few times as the Mirialan watched Mando with a clueless smile on his face, completely ignorant to the stiff body beside him.

“Coercive medical attention.” You choked a bit on the sip of water you had taken to buy yourself some time to think; coercive? That rotten---

“Ah, you were a difficult patient, were you?” Biran chuckled, knowing your methods well, “Sweet as pie if you do as your told, but the minute you resist she’ll go for you like a sand panther. I can’t imagine there was much room for bedside manners in the Rebellion, but thankfully that attitude works well in cities like Mynock.” You spluttered again, putting the glass down since it was out to get you too apparently.

Of all the treacherous--, why were you so nice to this old sod again? You would show him a sand panther when you ‘forget’ to buy his favorite tea next time you went shopping.

You seethed to yourself, leaning back in the armchair you had perched yourself on earlier, flyaway hairs from the breeze outside falling into your face which you blew away with a frustrated breath.

“Hm, a panther?” Your eyes rose as the low baritone filled the air after Biran had finished having his laugh at your expense. Mando cocked his head pensively to the side as he looked at you briefly, “More like a kitten, I’d say.” And with that, he looked away.

He didn’t bother saying anything else after that, content with letting Biran’s laughter fill the room and smother the tense silence the two of you were sitting in.

You could feel your cheeks heating up once more as you glared daggers at the tin can in front of you. Why did it feel like you were being simultaneously insulted and flirted with? You couldn’t make the distinction, so you didn’t know how to respond.

Instead, you decided to poke at a different part of the conversation.

“For someone who was coerced, you sure do find yourself on my table quick enough when you need treatment.” Your eyes ran up and down the length of his body candidly when he looked back at you, “and when you don’t need treatment, evidently.”

You smirked when the Mandalorian clenched a fist on his thigh, the third occupant in the room seemingly forgotten as Mando hissed,

“I never asked for your help.”

You scoffed and decided not to deign that with a response.

“Besides, I only stopped over for supplies and fuel.” He admitted and a treacherous part of you sunk a bit at the honesty in his voice. Seeing you was just a coincidence, like always. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air and you fought the twinge of sadness that chased you because of them.

Biran looked between the two of you before standing shakily and patting the Mandalorian on the shoulder with no hesitation, “Allow us to provide you with something extra for your travels then.” He turned his wrinkled face towards you with a smile, the deep groves of his crow’s feet increasing as he nodded to the bags of forgotten groceries, “I think our guest should try the crab. Knowing you, you bought too much as usual.”

You flushed at being caught out, were you really that predicable?

“There’s no need. I got what I came for so, I’ll be going now.” Mando stood fluidly despite his armor, and you were once again struck with how different it was seeing him injured as opposed to healthy. You felt you needed to get used to his presence all over again, with how much it filled the room.

“Thank you, for your hospitality.” He tipped his helmet towards Biran, his voice still rather gruff but laced with a polite softness uncharacteristic to him. Biran waved him off and started making his way back out to the practice when he heard the binary from his medi-droid welcoming a new patient.

That left the two of you standing in a room that suddenly felt much too small for the tension that hung around you both like a blanket. You moved into the kitchen to separate the food you would keep and the food you would give to Mando on one of the countertops, tying the bag tightly by the straps so that it stayed clean and fresh when you were done. You couldn’t hear him move, but you could feel the slight disturbance of the air when he leaned his shoulder casually against the doorframe, arms crossed enticingly once more as he watched you.

“So… what did he call you again? A sand… kitten, was it?”

“Oh, shut up.” You growled over your shoulder at him before turning and shoving the bag with two of the Berbersian crabs and some herbs you knew went well with them, into his hands.

“I don’t need these.” He held the bag out, straightening his stance as he pushed himself from the doorframe. You wisely ignored him.

“All you need is a pan. And water. And heat. Boil them and actually give your body some proper nutrients, would you?”

You explained as you began leading him out towards the private entrance of the residence, through the small kitchen and out into an alleyway that gave you an immediate sense of déjà vu the moment Mando stepped outside. The sun was still beating down and it glinted across the helmet that was becoming as recognizable as a face to you.

“In case you didn’t realize, I’m perfectly healthy.” He replied smoothly, getting his bearings as he examined the alleyway and noted the sounds from the nearby street as the direction he needed to go.

“That’d be a first.” You griped at him, but there was no venom in your words, and he knew it.

You knew he was about to leave, and the suddenness of his departure was as jarring as his arrival. You didn’t know why you felt the need to stall, and you pushed that urge down rapidly in the face of the warrior when he looked back at you from assessing the street not a few feet away.

You sighed and let out a chuckle, wondering again how this man constantly came barreling into your life, disrupting the precarious peace you had brokered while here. You might have said it was a nuisance, but deep down, you knew that he brought a breath of life back into yours every time he crossed your path, reinvigorated the aimless routine you found yourself in. It was unsettling, the way this man had wormed his way into being such a… significant presence in your life. Even after only meeting him three times and always under less than pleasant circumstances.

Part of you wanted to tell him he could stay longer if he wanted; but you knew he would refuse.

Part of you wanted to tell him to be safe; but you knew he wouldn’t be.

Part of you wanted to tell him that you would see him around; but you knew that you probably wouldn’t.

So you settled on a lackluster, “good luck on your hunt” with a small smile as a peace offering for the fraught bickering you always seemed to fall into with him. A peace offering, he seemed to accept as he lifted the bag silently and looked inside,

“Pan. Water. Heat. Right?” His own attempt made your smile grow as you chuckled and nodded,

“You got it, sunshine.”

He nodded once in affirmation while you moved around him back towards the door of the practice. For some reason, you didn’t want to watch him walk away this time. It was easier for you to leave instead. A rumble of your name from the Mandalorian had you looking over your shoulder at him questioningly, the blush that had risen to your cheeks at the sound of your name on his lips not lost on Mando. He had turned back towards you when you moved and after a beat, spoke again.

“See you next time.”

And just like that, your chest hollowed, and a warmth filled you. The weight of his words were like an embrace, a reassurance you didn’t know you needed. Had needed, for longer than you probably knew. It was something secure and encouraging in these times of change and uncertainty, and you felt yourself cling to those words like a lifeline.

The placid nod you offered him with a gentle smile was all he stuck around for. Spinning on his heels, he took off towards the streets of Mynock once more, disappearing in a flash of beskar and steel and for once, you didn’t ponder about possibly seeing him again. You knew you would.

Din settled back into the pilots’ chair of the Razor Crest twenty minutes later, running through the familiar process of flying the ship out of the atmosphere and into the comfort of space, eager to escape into hyperdrive as soon as he was clear enough from Dandoran.

See you next time?

He groaned leaned his head back against the chair, staring up at the ceiling of the cockpit, his brows drawn low over his eyes as he frowned. What possessed him to offer that promise, he didn’t know. Maybe it was the way your eyes had dimmed slightly when he was about to leave, or when you had wished him luck on a job he was still so uncertain about. Maybe it was the way you blushed when he said your name.

Or maybe it was just because he wanted to see you again too.

And that was the most troubling reason of all.

Din didn’t do friends, he had acquaintances and colleagues even if the term was tenuous. He had the covert and the foundlings, but he didn’t have people he actually wished to see. Never trusted anyone beyond what they could each offer one another. You hadn’t looked for anything from him, and it was unsettling. He didn’t know if he could trust you, years of training and experience told him otherwise. But from the old memories of you pressing Raquor’daan poison from his wound to the teasing friendship you displayed with the old Mirialan, his resolve softened a little.

His eyes flicked to the rapidly shrinking planet he was leaving.

Trust was too strong a word right now, but respect… he could admit that he respected you. And that alone put you on a very short list of people, one he was sure you would never truly understand the importance of.

And he was right.

You would never know the significance of being on that very short list of people, but in that moment, Din’s grudging respect for you set both of your lives on a very different course than either of you ever anticipated; one that revolved around a very special, very small, green child.

Once Dandoran had faded sufficiently behind the Razor Crest, he keyed in the co-ordinates to the far reaches of the Outer Rim and entered hyperspace and after several days of travel, he finally struck beskar when the tracking fob starting beeping as he coasted through space. He smirked behind his helmet as he changed direction and noted the closest planet on his navicomputer where his bounty was hidden.

Arvala-7.

Gotcha.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @nova646 @pychedelic-rainbow

#the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din djarin #mando x reader #mando fic #mando x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #mando #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic

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crispyjenkins · 3 years

Note

Rexobi. I really just wanna see Rex and Obi-wan drinking together and complaining about the disaster that is Anakin Skywalker. They decide to team up to get anakin to calm the heck down and to talk about his feelings. Anakin doesn’t realize what’s going on but gets the idea he needs to play matchmaker with his master and his captain. He thinks he’s the smart one but he’s really not

(i have once again chickened out of your full prompt and instead give you the leadup to rexobi getting anakin to talk about his feelings.

i uhhh may be unable to think of anything but a rexobi au à la this post by @norcumii and @dharmaavocado about roleswap-ish senior padawan obi hella vibing with this mutant clone that can’t get above the rank of captain even as an arc trooper because the kaminoans are Like That, and qui-gon is going spare, because between anakin somehow being allowed to be in charge of a whole battalion and obi-wan picking fights with every single seperatist leader, he and cody never get a moment of peace. and like. just obi and rex being dumbass 20 year olds trying to deal with a general/master like anakin in the middle of a war. i don’t have TIME for that though

thank you for the prompt as always, i think this is the only rexobi/obex prompt i’ve ever gotten and this ship is criminally underappreciated. like?? kadavo?? anyways here’s whatever this is)

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Not for the first time, Rex wishes Kote were the one here dealing with this, because “how to comfort your favorite Jedi” hadn’t exactly been covered in ARC training – actually, Alpha probably withheld the information on purpose, the fucker.

But Kote is on the other side of the galaxy with the 187th and just as upset they’re not here in Rex’s stead: it’s barely a month off General Kenobi returning to his own face, and Rex knows his vod would strangle the entire Senate if given even half a chance for deploying them separately on their general’s first mission back after the Hardeen... incident.

And Fett’s Ghost knows Rex’s own general is going to pitch a fit when he finds out Rex is here instead of taking leave like the rest of the 501st, but Kote certainly wasn’t about to let Kenobi go all the way to Alderaan unguarded so soon after his supposed death; and honestly, Rex would have been offended if they had asked anybody else to do it. Thankfully, Kenobi hadn’t seemed offended when Rex had shown up at the Jedi Temple’s flight hangar before he could take off; instead, he had been rather amused.

Even luckier, Alderaan is barely a day’s jump from Coruscant, so they don’t have to spend too much time awkwardly pretending that Rex hadn’t attended the man’s funeral in Kote's place (that he would have attended anyways), or that Rex doesn’t know Anakin hasn’t spoken to his former master since their debrief to the High Council about Cad Bane. Which Rex should absolutely not know in the first place, but Anakin is his friend, for better or for worse, and Ahsoka thinks her master airs far too many of his grievances to his captain.

It isn't until their cruiser is making the descent over Alderaan that Kenobi finally addresses the tension between them, which only proves that Kenobi is well aware of it, but had put it off as long as he could. It's a humanising observation, that Rex wishes he could have had when he isn't the only vod in a ten mile radius that isn't the pilot, because at least then he wouldn't be the sole receiver of the soft smile Kenobi gives him as he joins Rex to wait by the shuttle's access hatch.

Rex thanks his progenitor's laughing corpse he has his bucket on, because all he can do is stare.

"You are worried about Anakin," Kenobi says matter of factly, though not unkindly, and Rex lets out a breath that's almost a laugh.

"I promise I am far more discrete with my thoughts in the field, sir."

Kenobi chuckles warmly, tucking his arms behind his back to watch the planet under them grow larger as they approach. "Do try not to worry so much, my dear, this will all resolve itself in time."

It's hard to stare right at his gentle assuredness, so Rex looks away. "You have far more faith in his ability to forgive than I, sir."

That laugh strains at the edges. "Yes, well, I'm afraid some of my lessons seem to have been... lacking."

Rex has regs carbon-printed on his brain, he knows that even without the direct chain of command, the soft push and pull of his relationship with Kenobi, the steady, serene growth of it, is... problematic, for so many reasons that he wouldn't know where to start. Not least of all is rank, how much more important a Jedi is than a replaceable CC-track washout, but, well, Rex had washed out for being too emotional, so it's not as if he's exactly unused to reacting to things inappropriately for a good little soldier.

"It's not my place, sir," he murmurs, remembering Kadavo, remembering Umbara, remembering the hand Kenobi had laid on his shoulder for far too long after the Blue Shadow virus, and has Rex really been this gone since then? "just say the word and I won't mention it again. But just because Kote isn't here doesn't mean you have to... shoulder all of this alone."

In fact, it's wildly not his place to make such an offer, however implicit, but that month on Kadavo did happen, and Rex isn't so self-deprecating to believe he hadn't had a heavy hand in helping Kenobi make it out on the other side as well as he did. He doesn't think so little of the bond they had formed then, to believe that Obi-Wan is unaware of it.

Not when he smiles at Rex like that, like he's a warm cup of caf after a week in the trenches, like Rex is... worthy of such sincere affection.

As the shuttle settles around them and the pilot announces their arrival over comm, Obi-Wan simply says, "I did not for a moment believe I was, my dear."

"You and Rex seem close."

Normally Obi-Wan can feel Anakin coming from an entire corridor away, but he also knows Quinlan has been teaching him a few Shadow tricks, so he isn't entirely surprised when Anakin appears at his elbow in the empty bridge looking like a smug necu.

Aside from eating firstmeal with Kote in the mess, Obi-Wan hasn't even seen Rex today, much less interacted with him: as he understands it, Rex is trying to round up the remaining 501st shinies that are running around the Negotiator, so Obi-Wan really doesn't know where Anakin had gotten that notion. Recently, at least.

Anakin rolls his eyes and scoffs, leaning back on the railing next to him and crossing his arms. "Please, Master, even Snips has noticed."

Obi-Wan refrains from telling him that anyone with a modicum more self-awareness than him has noticed. Be that as it may, "This is one of those times where I truly don't know what you're trying to say, my dear: I have been close with Rex since he was in the 212th."

It isn't even an exaggeration, that there had been... something between them before Anakin whisked Rex away to his own battalion after his knighting, though back then it had been nothing more than friendship. If he recalls correctly, and he does, the cleanup of the Ryloth capitol had been the first time since then that they had worked closely, while Anakin had been on the ground with the locals and Mace had been with General Syndulla, and Obi-Wan had found he still quite enjoyed the way they worked together. Their time on Naboo combating the Blue Shadow virus had only endeared the captain more to him —he does remember a slip in propriety in his relief that Rex had been rescued safely with Padmé and Ahsoka, a hand left too long on the captain's shoulder until Kote had called him away— enough that Obi-Wan had been both relieved and horrified that it was Rex there to support him on Kadavo.

"Cody said Rex was the one to go with you to Alderaan; you sure nothing 'happened' while you were there?" Anakin chuckles to himself like he's being incredibly clever, like there isn’t a hickey visible over the collar of his under tunic.

Obi-Wan raises a brow slowly and refrains from rolling his eyes. "Despite what you may believe, Anakin, not everyone leaps into committed relationships after life-threatening situations." Not that Alderaan had been life-threatening, it had actually been as close to actual leave as Obi-Wan has had the entire war.

"Please, it took Padmé and I ages to–"

Anakin seems to swallow his tongue, then, face rapidly going purple, and it really is a miracle the entire Republic doesn’t know about his marriage; the GAR certainly does.

Sighing, Obi-Wan checks the chrono and decides it isn't too early for another cup of tea. "If you have a specific question about my relationship with Captain Rex, I do wish you’d be direct, my dear."

Anakin splutters. "Relationship?!"

"Great Maker, Anakin, you’re easier to spook than a half-starved blurrg." He pats Anakin’s arm, his sonbrother floundering for anything other than abject confoundment, as Obi-Wan turns away from the bridge to go locate both tea, and his commander to hopefully finalise their newest mission orders. "Don't worry," he calls over his shoulder, "I'll actually let you come to the wedding, unlike someone."

Not that Obi-Wan has any such plans, Maker knows he and Rex have yet to address their feelings in the first place, but he'd be lying if part of him doesn't want to conspire with the captain in question —and perhaps Ahsoka— to see just how far they could take this before Anakin realises they're stringing him along.

Remarkably, Rex is waiting by Obi-Wan’s office with a flimsi cup of tea and a harried smile that promised quite the day chasing after shinies, and Obi-Wan decides conning his former apprentice can wait.

Mando’a: vod/e — “brother/s”, “comrade/s”, “sibling/s”, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brother/s”

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kuroopaisen · 3 years

Text

tiny love || 12

➵ as tooru’s younger sister, falling in love with iwaizumi hajime is easy. your feelings aren’t ignored, either. this time, you both decided to tell your brother the truth.

warnings: f!reader

wc: 1k

m.list | ch. 11 ↞ ch. 12 ↠ ch. 13

Last time…

“Hey, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi swallowed, his face a tad paler than usual. “We have something to tell you.”

✧ ✧ ✧

“We?” Tooru chuckled, a familiar playful lilt to his voice.

“Hello,” you piped up before he had time to tease Iwaizumi about who ‘we’ might be.

“Ah!” The phone burst with joy, a pleasant tinkle to the way Oikawa called your name.

Your stomach plummeted.

“So, what’s up?” Tooru sighed. “You’re not about to tell me that you need to borrow some money, are you?”

“When have I ever asked you for money?” You grumbled, your free hand teasing the fabric of your pyjama shorts between your fingers. God, it’s too normal; a typical back-and-forth between siblings.

It was a strange contrast to the dread settling in your gut.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Tooru chirped. Blissfully unaware. You were almost envious.

You braved a glance at Iwaizumi. His jaw was taut, his lips pressed thin.

You tightened your grip around his hand, as if you were trying to instil a modicum of strength into him.

“Yeah, well…” Iwaizumi cleared his throat, blinking a little faster than usual.

“You sound so grim,” Tooru chuckles. “Come on then, out with it.”

Iwaizumi’s face turned a shade paler, his jaw taut.

This was hard for him. That much was obvious.

But he was trying.

And it was as hard for him as it was for you.

Everything within you stung, a tempest of nettles and thorns that refused to give you any respite. You’d been doing this – whatever this was, whatever Iwaizumi was ready to call this fondness between you – behind Tooru’s back for so long now.

High school. Years of bitterness. Downplaying just how much you hurt in order to maintain peace. A peace which you’d shattered with your own hands, on your own volition, when you had every opportunity not to.

But what’s done is done. You weren’t about to make the same mistakes you had in high school.

You had to tell him. You had to assert yourself, to show him that you matter too. That Iwaizumi meant something to you. That you meant something to him.

“We’re dating.”

It blurted out of your mouth with all the clumsiness and inelegance of a newborn foal. You just wanted to get it out, to shift the horrible tightness in your chest, to breathe out the burning in your gut.

Deathly silence followed.

It was worse than you’d feared.

Tooru was never silent. Whenever he was, it meant something bad had happened. Stagnation. Rejection. Fury.

Those were the only things that could render Tooru silent.

You wondered if you should fill the space with something else. But, there was nothing to say.

All this tension, all this discontent, stripped naked in two words.

“Is this a joke?” Tooru’s voice was a razor, thin and sharp and cold. “Because it’s not very funny.”

Your brother had never spoken to you like this. You’ve heard him talk about other people in this voice – a certain Kageyama Tobio comes to mind – but the ire had never been directed at you before.

You bit the inside of your cheek.

God, you just wished you wouldn’t take it all so seriously – why did this matter so much? Why was it causing you so much stress? What was wrong with y—

“It’s not,” Iwaizumi said. “She’s telling you the truth.”

He no longer had a ghostly pallor. A familiar crease lined his brow. You realised, not without a hint of irony, that it’s the look he always had in the middle of one of his high school games. That was when his tenacity always shone through the most.

“I asked you to keep an eye on her, not fuck her,” Tooru hissed.

It was like everything you knew gave way beneath you, like the thin ground above a pit in one of those adventure movies.

You weren’t you anymore. You were her. Not a person on your own accord, but something to be coddled, ‘protected’, prevented from making their own decisions.

A grievance.

“That’s out of line!” Iwaizumi’s voice boomed, speckled with rage. “Don’t talk about your sister like that!”

“Don’t tell me how I can or can’t talk about her!” Tooru’s voice was just as sharp, just as blue-hot. “She’s my sister, you, you—”

“I’m right here, Tooru,” you hissed, the corners of your eyes beginning to sting. What were you, a doll? A pet? A cup of fine china that had to be handled with care?

You were an adult, a woman, and Tooru needed to—

“You stay out of this,” he barked.

“No!”

The word scratched against your throat like gravel. You sounded like a petulant child – something you’d told yourself to avoid in this call.

But that was all Tooru saw you as – a child who couldn’t make her own choices. A child that needed to be protected.

The horrible realisation comes to you with an underwhelming mundanity.

Tooru didn’t see you as an individual. Not in the way you wanted him to. You were just his baby sister, silly and stupid and easily misled.

“Don’t talk about me like that!” Everything you wanted to say was gone, no matter how desperately you tried to wrangle them. Any well-thought out defence, or explanation, or appeal to his reason… all of it, gone.

A pressure was building in your head, angry and persistent. You felt like you were going to explode, spluttering out of your seams. It was all slipping away from you too fast, running like water through your hands.

“I don’t want to hear anything out of you!” Tooru yelled. “You should know better than to fuck around with my friends!”

“My feelings matter too!” You shouted back. “You don’t own Hajime—”

“Oh, Hajime?” Tooru scoffed. “Jesus Christ…”

Your pulse pounded in your ears, every inch of your skin burning. This was the worst possible outcome. Nothing could’ve prepared you for this. Nothing at all.

“You don’t get to control who I do and don’t date,” you said, a waver running through your words.

“You know what? I’m not having this conversation.”

“Tooru—”

The end tone blared out its steady march.

He was gone.

It was over before it’d even begun.

The silence enveloped you like a shroud, dank and oppressive and suffocating.

Tooru hadn’t even given you a chance to explain yourself. Not properly. He’d just shouted.

He’d never shouted at you before – not properly. Sure, there were petty fights over meaningless things neither of you could remember, but there’d never been a true falling out.

But there you sat, an ache in your chest that felt wholly unfamiliar. A new kind of aloneness, an isolation wholly different from anything you’d felt before. It wasn’t like getting your heart broken by the boy you had a ridiculously big crush on. It wasn’t like moving to a whole new country, throwing yourself into a perilous unknown.

No, this was a new pain, one you didn’t know how to name. The insurmountable rift had grown even wider. Now there was no chance of reaching him.

Your chest ached with how tight it was, your eyes stung with a startling ferociousness, your head pounded to the rhythm of your racing thoughts—

“Hajime—”

His arms encircled you as you croaked out his name. He pulled you towards him and pressed a firm kiss to your forehead. You let yourself fall against his chest, your cheek coming to rest against the soft cotton of his shirt. He was warm, like he always was. Firm, warm, steady.

He was safe. You were safe.

You let the tears bubble out. You needed it. All that fretting, all that waiting, only for it to turn out like this? Maybe you were just the punching bag in some great cosmic joke. Something so trivial, so human, causing this much strife…

For the first time in your life, you envied all those people out there with distant relationships with their siblings – even the ones who regarded their blood relatives with contempt. At least, then, it wouldn’t feel so much like you were the one holding the knife. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be tearing yourself apart from the inside out over something you shouldn’t even feel guilty about in the first place.

God, this was so stupid. And Hajime… poor Hajime…

Iwaizumi didn’t say anything. But you knew. You knew he would hold good on his promise. He wouldn’t run away this time.

He hadn’t.

Your heart was breaking all over again.

But this time, you weren’t alone.

#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu x reader #tiny love #I'M SO DUMB I HAD THIS DOWN AS CH 11 BUT IT'S 12

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petrichoravellichor · 2 years

Note

Pairing: Mary x Rowena Setting: Shooting range

(~2k, read on Ao3)

Note on timing: This takes place at some point between 13x22 “Exodus” and 13x23 “Let the Good Times Roll” — that is, after the return from Apocalypse World but before Lucifer and Michael come through and stir shit up. (Let’s all just pretend Michael killed Lucifer and got stuck over there and our beloved characters finally got some much-earned peace, yeah?)

Endless thanks to the incredible @niche-pastiche for doing an alpha read and advising on proper terminology and gun handling protocols, to my tireless beta @rauko-is-a-free-elf, and to the talented @slytherkins for the absolutely beautiful commissioned art that accompanies this fic.

Last but not least, note that while eye and ear protection isn’t discussed here (as it’s not used on the show), it’s an important part of gun safety and should always be used when practicing.

**********

Mary’s on her way to the bunker kitchen when she hears a bang from the direction of the shooting range, which wouldn’t normally be concerning...except that this particular bang is accompanied by a high-pitched squeal and then a great deal of muffled, Scottish-accented cursing.

What on earth? Mary changes course, making a beeline for the range; when she gets there, the door is already ajar. She nudges it further open and peers inside.

Rowena is standing at one of the shooting stalls, arms trembling slightly as she raises a gun and lines up another shot.

“What the hell is going on here?” Mary demands; she hadn’t even known Rowena was visiting.

Rowena looks over, clearly startled, before schooling her features into a more neutral expression. “What’s it look like?” She tosses her head in the direction of the gun she’s holding, a Glock that Mary doesn’t recognize as having come from the bunker arsenal. “I’m practicing.”

Mary raises a brow. “That what you call shrieking like a little kid when your gun goes off?” She takes in Rowena’s appearance: a simple-yet-elegant brownish red dress and heels, hardly the type of outfit that screams ‘target practice’. “Do you even know how to hold a gun?”

“Aye.” Rowena draws herself up proudly. “I’ve had a lesson.”

“A lesson?” Mary repeats. “As in singular? And from who? Sam or Dean?”

Rowena purses her lips, now looking flustered. “From a…professional,” she says at last. “The same one who sold me the gun. I don’t know his name; we didn’t waste time on pleasantries.”

Didn’t waste time on—oh. Oh, you have got to be kidding me…

“Please tell me,” Mary says darkly, “that you didn’t get that thing in some kind of back alley deal.”

“Of course not.” Rowena glances down, away. “We met in the countryside, at an abandoned farm, and he showed me how to fire it.”

Mary just stares, at a loss for words that aren’t both exasperated and highly profane. “You’re saying,” she manages eventually, “that you bought a gun from some random dealer you don't even know, and you barely know how to use it.”

“What’s to know?” demands Rowena. She waves the gun, finger still on the trigger. “It’s not spellwork. I just point it at the thing I want dead and shoot.”

And for a good few seconds, Mary seriously considers just turning on her heel and marching out of the room. Leaving would be easy; it’d be so much easier than trying to scrape together a modicum of patience for this arrogant, snobby witch of a woman who’s somehow gained Sam and Dean’s trust to the point where she’s allowed to move through the bunker completely unchecked…

Sam and Dean.

Their names cause a sense of protectiveness to bleed into Mary's anger, giving her pause. If she leaves now, who’s to say that Rowena’s ignorance around firearms won’t eventually end with Sam or Dean injured, or possibly worse? Mary would regret it, she knows she would; it would be yet another failure to add to the list of things she can never forgive herself for.

Damn it...

She sighs, her mind made up; she might not know how to be the type of mother her boys deserve, but she can damn well make sure another person’s stupidity doesn't lead to them getting hurt. With a few quick steps, she's crossed the room to stand at Rowena's side.

“There’s a lot more to it than just 'point and shoot’," Mary says, holding up a finger. "For one, unless you’re literally ready to fire, keep your finger off the trigger.”

She glares pointedly at Rowena until the latter’s eyes flit down to the Glock and widen in realization; Rowena quickly relaxes the finger in question. “Oh. Right.”

“And while we’re on the topic,” adds Mary, holding up a second finger, “never, ever point a gun at something you’re not fully prepared to shoot.” She tilts her head downrange. “By which I mean, as long as you’re in this room, keep it pointed at those targets or at the ground and nothing else, or I will confiscate it. Got it?”

Rowena scowls, clearly not used to being chastised, but she nods.

“Good. Three,” Mary holds up another finger, “make sure you know what’s behind your target. A bullet doesn’t know the difference between a good guy and a bad guy, so if you shoot at a bad guy who’s standing right in front of a good guy, there’s a good chance the bullet goes right through the bad guy and proceeds to ruin the good guy’s day. And lastly, but most importantly,” a final finger, “always treat every gun as though it’s loaded, even if someone tells you it’s not. Think of it as…” Mary racks her brain, trying to think of an appropriate metaphor. “Think of it as a magical artifact that may or may not be charged and that could really hurt someone—or you—if it activates before you want it to.”

Mary's explanation seems to land, because while Rowena still doesn't look like she appreciates the sternness with which she’s being spoken to, her scowl lessens somewhat as she nods again. “All right. I understand.”

“Good.” Mary lowers her hand. “Now that we’ve covered the basics, let’s talk about your stance. Show me what you’ve got, but don’t pull the trigger; I just want to see how you aim.”

Rowena complies, and right away, Mary finds herself shaking her head. “You’re leaning too far back, like you’re afraid the gun’s going to blow up in your face.”

“It could, for all I know,” Rowena mutters.

“Then you shouldn’t be using it,” Mary snaps, and Jesus, if she wasn’t frustrated with this woman before…

She exhales, forcing herself to remain calm. For her boys, she reminds herself; she’s doing this for her boys…

“What I mean,” Mary says, trying again, “it’s that it’s really, really important to make sure your gun is properly maintained, because if you don’t, that’s when accidents tend to happen.” She gestures at the Glock. “Did the person who sold you that tell you anything about its condition?”

Given the way their conversation’s been going, Mary is fully expecting a ‘no’, but that doesn’t make Rowena’s headshake any less infuriating. For Sam and Dean, for Sam and Dean…

“Okay,” Mary continues. “At this point, I don’t want you firing it again until either I or Sam or Dean have looked at it.” She gestures toward the counter of the shooting stall. “Put it down. Gently,” she adds, narrowing her eyes at Rowena’s petulant expression. “Or it just might blow up in your face.”

It’s a lie—Mary knows the chances of the gun misfiring due to sudden impact are extremely small—but it’s worth it for the way Rowena’s scowl loosens into something more appropriately cautious as she does as she’s told and carefully deposits the gun on the counter.

Mary picks it up. She removes the magazine and sets it aside, then racks the slide back to release the chambered round, smirking with a distinct sense of Schadenfreude when Rowena flinches as the bullet pops out and clatters to the ground. After a final check of the chamber to make sure it’s clear, Mary puts the gun back down and crosses her arms.

“You got lucky,” she says, the petty part of her a little disappointed. “At first glance, things look okay, but we’re still doing a more detailed check later.” Then, because it occurs to her that she hasn’t asked, she adds, “Why do you want a gun in the first place? Don’t you have witchy powers and all that?”

The look Rowena gives her is cold and guarded. “Of course I do. It’s just…” She glances down at the emptied Glock, and something in her expression cracks. “Well, spells can take time, and they’re not always effective against…particularly powerful creatures, and…oh, never mind,” she finishes harshly. “It’s not like it really matters now the rift’s sealed, it’s just for…peace of mind.”

It takes a beat for Mary to figure out what Rowena’s getting at, but when she does, her lips part in surprise. “This is about Lucifer?” she says, and the way Rowena shifts uncomfortably at the name is answer enough. “Rowena, he’s gone. He can’t hurt us anymore, and besides,” she tilts her head toward the Glock, “something like that wouldn’t stop him.”

“Aye, but it might slow him down,” insists Rowena, “or at least catch him off guard long enough for me to…to do something.” She takes a breath, eyes fierce with determination. “I won’t be helpless, not ever again.”

Mary swallows. There’s something dangerously close to empathy stirring in her chest, and she feels the bulk of her initial anger toward Rowena start to fade. Damn it…

“Fine.” She reaches into her waistband and pulls out her 1911, double checking the safety before holding it out butt first. “Then try this. It's heavier than what you were using and has more of a kick, but it’s got a similar grip, and at least I know where it’s been.”

Rowena’s gaze flickers from Mary to the 1911 and back; she looks confused. “You’re giving me your gun?”

“No,” replies Mary, “I’m loaning it to you, on a very temporary basis, until either my boys or I can check out the one you bought or we can go through the armory and pick out something that might work better for you.” She takes a step forward, offering the 1911. "For peace of mind."

Rowena hesitates, then reaches out, taking the gun and turning it over in her hands. “You said I was standing wrong,” she says after a moment. Her eyes flick back to Mary’s, and for the first time since Mary walked in, there’s a grudging sort of respect in Rowena’s gaze. “How am I supposed to?”

Mary waves a hand, indicating for Rowena to resume aiming. “Do what you were doing before. I’ll adjust you.”

Rowena adopts her previous stance, and Mary moves in closer. “Feet shoulder width apart,” she instructs. “Now bend your knees—just a little, you’re not doing a squat—and bring your right foot back a smidge.” She nudges Rowena’s foot with her own until it’s in the right position. “Like that.”

“It’s a wee bit early for footsie, isn’t it?” asks Rowena delicately, glancing at Mary with a hint of a smirk.

“Shut up,” Mary mutters, and if her face feels red, it’s only because she’s annoyed, damn it, “and keep most of your weight on your left foot.”

Placing a hand on Rowena’s left shoulder, Mary uses her other hand to cup Rowena’s right elbow and guide it upward. Through the thin fabric of Rowena’s dress, Mary can feel the warmth of the other woman’s skin.

She lets go of Rowena, moving to her left. “Okay, you see this little lever-looking thing on the side? That’s the safety; the gun won’t fire as long as that’s engaged. I want you to take your left thumb and flick it down. Good. Now line up your sights—both eyes open, there you go. Remember, there’s more kick to this one, so be ready for that. Okay,” she says again, satisfied, and steps back. “When you’re ready, go ahead and gently squeeze the trigger.”

There’s a bang as Rowena fires; she wobbles slightly at the recoil, but her grip remains steady. As she lowers the gun, Mary steps forward to peer downrange at the paper silhouette target.

“Looks like you got him in the shoulder.” Mary nods in approval. “Nice.”

For her part, Rowena looks stunned. “I did it,” she murmurs, then, louder, “I did it!” She beams, giving Mary a satisfied once-over. “I’ll be a crack shot before you know it.”

“Mm,” Mary says with wry indulgence, and if she’s more amused than put off by Rowena’s bravado, well. That’s her own damn business. “Not bad, rookie.” She gestures in the direction of the target, biting back a grin. “Now let’s see you do it again.”

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