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aaronyoghurt · 4 months

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"Dance With Me"

Chrollo x Reader

This is the first fan fic I've written.

I dont't know if this will be any good but

Please be nice.

Although constructive criticism will be much appreicated.

I tried.

This will probably be a one shot and I shall disappear under the surface of the earth.

Unless yall find this engaging or if I choose to write more.

Summary: You're attending a fancy auction event. Becoming increasingly bored, an opportunity arises when a handsome mysterious stranger notices and approaches you. He engages in conversation before swooping you away onto the dance floor. Ending is open to interpretation. wink wink

Note: I have written this in Third Person rather than in Second. I wanted to try out the narrative perspective but I am curious to know which of the two you prefer as a reader :)

Enjoy...

(2.06 k words)

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Smooth red liquid of the expensive wine cautiously slid down her throat as she observed her current surroundings. The soft classical music from the band of musicians flowed through the air, creating a pleasant ambience that entertained the auditory senses. Meanwhile, a swarm of mingling bodies idly danced through the grand intricate hall. The ruby wine, slowly swirled around the inside of the glass as the young woman languidly stirred the stem between delicate fingers.

The function she was attending tonight was a prestigious one. A vast ornate ceiling coupled with splendid decorative designs and grand marble columns intwined with golden threads, were all distinct features that screamed eloquence and money. Just the thing to be expected when one attended a fancy dinner party, especially one that was meant to impress the higher classes, under the disguise of a philanthropic art auction for charity. The young woman liked art. It is a universal thing that binds all humans together and anyone can be appreciative of it, regardless if they consider themselves a knowledgeable appraiser.

The reason for her being here tonight was not only attributed to her desire to see the art or enjoy a social gathering, but almost laughable in its’ simplicity; boredom. A result of a spontaneous decision made on impulse and the desire to escape the typical regularity of daily life seemed more appealing to regard it as such. An acquaintance of hers mentioned that it would be a pleasure for him to take her to the auction if she chose to, and she agreed. However, now that she has strolled around the venue and admired all of the art pieces that were to be auctioned, all the while her supposed partner for this evening has left to throw himself into conversation with other groups of people at some stage during the evening, there was nothing more to do other than to enjoy some of the wine that was offered.

Her gaze was trained on the red liquid that sloshed lightly in the crystal while her mind was wondering on what to do next. She glanced up at the dancing couples for a second with an indifferent and almost distant gaze before sighing and raising the glass to her lips. Lamenting on the fact that people had found happiness with their lovers was never a beneficial thought process. It made one consider their own lack of romance in life and wonder how some fall into relationships so easily, while others struggle to even find a match or simply waiting for fate to do its’ bidding.

That is why instead of dwelling on such topics, she sipped on her nearly empty glass, allowing the pleasant buzz to fill her head and enjoy the remaining contents of the drink before deciding to call it a night and go home. Perhaps once she is back home, she will decide between getting even more violently wine drunk and viciously bawling into a pillow, considering the uneventful and quite boring evening that she thus far endured.

She raised the glass once again to her lips while her eyes flickered upwards, only to land on a suit clad stranger in the now dispersed party of the previous dancers, and who was also looking back at her with a soft smile. She blinked and shifted her gaze away to the side, as her breath caught in her throat momentarily. It must have been her imagination or worse, a hallucination caused by one too many sips of wine, because once her eyes travelled back in the direction of the mysterious man looking at her, he was gone.

But not even a second later, the stranger reappeared at her side, standing only a small and respectable distance away. Declining his head a bit and nodding subtly downwards at the glass in her hand and leaning into her side he spoke, “Pinot Noir or Sauvignon?” Her head turns at the sound of the calm and surprisingly soft voice and she is met face to face with the handsome stranger. Her widened eyes meet his cool cobalt gaze as they curiously look into hers, maintaining a present contact.

Apart from his tantalising opium gaze, his appearance was strikingly distinct and unique; a white bandana was wrapped securely around his forehead and his earlobes were adorned with turquoise ball earrings. After taking a few seconds to comprehend the random approach and the appearance of the man before her, she quickly shook off her stupor after realising he is waiting for some sort of answer.

He has asked her what wine it is that was in her glass and she glances down at it as she thinks back. When she was poured the wine by the waiter previously, he had said something similar. She glanced back up at the mysterious man and offering him a response, “Pinot Noir, I believe…” His smile widens ever so slightly as he acknowledges her with a gentle gaze. “I must say, it is a fine choice. The taste is quite refined in its own way.”

She smiles lightly back at him and can’t help but feel her heart skip a beat. Not only is his countenance tolerable and fine, the way he carries himself is certainly venerable with a flair for natural charm. Moreover, his appearance is even more captivating. From the way in which his inky strands of hair fall perfectly around his face, to the structure of his jaw and sharp intelligent eyes.

“Ah, pardon me. I believe I got ahead of myself and forgot the introductions. I’m Chrollo.” His eyes remain soft and looking straight into hers, while his lips are graced with that same calm and friendly smile as he extends his right hand slowly. “Chrollo…nice to meet you. I’m Y/n.” She smiles back warmly and places her hand into his as he squeezes it gently and raises her hand to his lips while lowering his head, looking into her eyes through his lashes with a soft grin as he does so.

This catches her off guard completely, causing a tint of pink to dust her cheeks right before he lets go and continues in a soft, aimable tone, “Perhaps I was too up front with my approach, but I couldn’t help but notice your humble presence and elegant disposition. Are you enjoying the party?” She considers him for a moment before letting out a small chuckle and looking back up at him, “It could be worse. I was hoping it would be more entertaining for me, but I’m not one to complain.”

⋙ ⋙ ⋙

Chrollo’s company turned out to be a most joyous experience and probably the highlight of the otherwise uninteresting evening. He was polite and a most engaging conversationalist. They talked and laughed for a long duration of time which now seemed to be of no essence. The rest of the people in the expanse of the hall and the air filled with conversation seemed to have completely vaporised into nothing more than an insignificant echo.

After some time, they both seem to be brought back to reality as the music started back up. A notable change can now be heard in it’s quality of performance since a new, more distinguished, band of musicians appeared, in exchange of the prior orchestra. Most likely to symphonise a final dance before the auction started.

Upon hearing the newborn melody, Chrollo looks at her again with a more concentrated gaze as he utters his next words, “Dance with me.” His voice is soft as he speaks, but there is a certain command in it, which compels one to oblige instantaneously. Her eyes widen in mild surprise at the sudden request. Her heart begins to thump in her chest at a slightly more accelerated speed, as she gazes up into the sparkling depths of obscurity, contained within those enthralling dark grey eyes of his. Chrollo patiently waits, now with another kind smile compared to the more pointed expression he presented mere seconds ago. “Uhm…alright.” She agrees after initial hesitation, as he offers her his hand, giving the cue, to which she immediately complies.

Placing her smaller hand into Chrollo’s, he leads her onto the dance floor where others have already started their waltz. They stop together in the free space as Chrollo raises their intertwined hands into the air fluidly, and uses his other hand to promptly and gently wrap around her lower back, pulling her closer into him. He offers her an unabashed grin while a more bashful smile spreads itself upon her own lips.

“I should have warned you earlier…I’m not a great dancer.” She admits and glances away from his piercing gaze before meeting his eyes once more. His own lips merely quirk upwards after sensing her apprehension before he responds, “I believe it’s a little too late for any inhibitions now, darling. Allow me to be your guide.” Is all he says, before starting to fall into rhythm with her gracefully, leading her through every step as they progress in their dance.

The music flows through the crowded space easily, while Chrollo smoothly dictates the slow succession of steps and figures, occasionally twirling her around and pulling her in extremely close. It was evident that she felt a bit nervous at the start, and not only because of the fact that this handsome dark haired man was present and choosing to be with her, but since she never considered herself to be a capable dancer. Somehow with Chrollo’s efficient guidance, she found herself naturally responding to his movements. It was bizarre yet magnificent at the same time. As if the ability of dancing itself was innately present with her all along and never existed only as a foreign concept.

“I do not know why you feared that you didn’t have the capacity to be a capable dancer. You’re moving splendidly.” Chrollo praises with a soft smile on his face as they continue to dance. She keeps her eyes on his as they effortlessly sway to the soft classical music provided by the orchestra. “Maybe I just have a good partner.” She teases with a small grin. Chrollo subtly smirks at her suave comment as his obsidian eyes fill with mirth.

Don’t be so humble now, dear. I have witnessed how other women dance and some appear to be as stiff as rocks.” He comments in amusement as he spins her around gently before pulling her back against him, her body moving fluently in response to his lead. “I see you have had plenty of experience in dancing then?” She asks as she tries to appear nonchalant. Chrollo only chuckles softly as his sharp eyes pierce into her own. “Call it observation.” He responds enigmatically as his hand slithers down to her waist from the small of her back.

The two continue dancing until the song begins to fade towards its’ conclusion. After spending only around two hours with Chrollo, she couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. His enticing nature and charming persona, coupled with his appealing handsome looks was beginning to get to her. The aforementioned idea of romance, that she approached with much scrutiny and distaste, now seemed not be as bad. She could only hope and fathom the idea that fate has finally been kind to her and bestowed this ridiculously attractive man in her favour.

She didn’t know what approach she should take anymore, but she did know one thing; she never wanted for this dream-like dance to end. But all good things seem to come to an end. So she allows herself to indulge in this as much as possible and drink every drop from tonight’s company before the clock struck twelve.

Chrollo looks down at her with devilish smile gracing his plump lips as his eyes sparkle with a newfound light. “Earlier you mentioned you wished for the evening to be more entertaining…well I can assure you of one thing, my dear…” He twirls her around gently for the final time before smoothly pulling her back against his chest with a hand on the small of her waist. Tipping her backwards ever so slightly, Chrollo leans his head down next to hers and whispers the next words into the shell of her ear, his lips brushing the tender skin with the barest touch, “…It will only get more interesting, from now on…”

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if you survived after reading this, I commend you for your dilligence and patience.

As an FYI: This post is a result of a random idea along with me wanting to test my writing capabilities in the department of fanfiction lol. So I have no clue how this escalated to me posting this on here but take what you want of it.

If you are still reading, I would be eternally blessed if I receive any feedback cuz I deadass have no clue what I am doing.

Stay slay and peace out!

#chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer #Chrollo #hxh chrollo #hxh #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #anime #x reader

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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Devil's Food - Eddie Munson x Reader (18+)

WC: 3.4K / navi / preview / request

Summary: A few weeks ago, Eddie decided on a rather bold body mod: splitting his tongue. Now that it's finally healed, you become devil's food, his first experimental meal

Contents/Warnings: smut (minors dni), oral sex (f receiving), lots and lots of kissing, nipple/boob play, gratuitous use of the nickname 'angel', looots of angel/devil dynamics

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Three weeks. Three weeks of nothing but liquids, nonsensical babbles, and pitiful whimpers of pain, and Eddie’s tongue is finally healed. You’ve been eating with him out of solidarity, but if you never have to have another bowl of bland soup you’ll be the happiest person in the world.

Crumpled up papers are strewn around the room, scribbled down notes from Eddie when his newly-forked tongue failed him in verbal eloquence. You admit, you are going to miss hearing him ask you for applesauce, a slight lisp invading his words and softening them on his split tongue.

Body-mods are an exciting adventure for you and Eddie. A tattoo here, and piercing there, but nothing as bold as splitting his tongue until now. He’d expressed an interest in the devilish procedure for months before he’d finally gained the courage to go and have it done, and though the recovery period almost made him regret it, he’s happy with his decision.

So happy, in fact, that he’s been performing tricks for you all day.

“Babe,” He babbles, teeth hitting his tongue clumsily “Look!”

You turn to glance at him, watching as he smooths his tongue over his lips, each side going in a different direction. It sends a shiver down your spine and you congratulate him, a slight fluttering in your belly.

“Holy shit, Eddie, that’s cool.”

“I know!” He laughs giddily, “God, think of all the sweet shitI can do with this.”

“Like?” You prompt him, knowing he’s going to torment his friends with it, or make it the subject of many cryptic pictures to come.

“Like,” He drags the word out, the two sides of his tongue trembling slightly with the effort of staying together while he speaks, “Kissing.”

He starts off strong, and you wonder if, all along, he’s been thinking about it too. A sly smirk grows on your face despite your efforts to hold it back, “Oh? You think it would be better?”

“You tell me,” He shrugs, suavely gripping your face in his hand and tugging your jaw towards him, “You’re the one gettin’ kissed.”

Then he kisses you, and it’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. His tongue snakes into your mouth instantly, all formalities forgotten. Instead of leading you in slowly he devours you, his tongue flicking around your own and up against the roof of your mouth in its vigor.

You rear backwards, away from the incredibly ticklish sensation with a shriek, “Eddie!”

He’s laughing at you, deep and hearty and from the chest, “What, you can’t take it? Too ticklish?”

He lunges at you, the smirk on his face only growing wider as you scramble to get away from him. But his hands are already on your sides, squeezing and poking and prodding up your ribs to make you squirm.

“Eddie stop!” You beg, tears brimming in your eyes from how hard they’re squeezed shut in glee, “It tickles!”

“It’s supposed to!” He wrestles you beneath him, pinning you down as he straddles your lap and leans down to kiss you again. It’s a short one, with much less tongue this time, but the split muscle laps at your lips once he pulls away. Then he drags it along his own lips once more, humming thoughtfully as it recedes back into his mouth, “You got new chapstick?”

“Pineapple-coconut.” You announce proudly, his sticky saliva drying on your lips as you speak.

“It’s delicious,” He decides, “I might kiss it all off of you.”

A kiss is pressed once more to your lips to accentuate his point. You roll your eyes fondly, “You’ve gotten a lot bolder since splitting your tongue.”

“What can I say?” He has a shit-eating grin on his lips as he stares down at you, his hands braced on your stomach, “Now I’m the devil in disguise.”

His cheesy reference has you groaning exasperatedly, “Eddie, that’s lame.”

“Lame?!” He roars and rears his head back dramatically, then cups your cheeks, squishing them together, “How dare you. I have never been lame.”

“Yes you have,” You giggle, your words slightly distorted from how your lips are forcibly puckered, “Remember when you used to have a crush on me? Before we were together,” You reminisce fondly, reaching up to toy with a strand of his messy hair as he hovers over you, curling it through your fingers, “You were always stuttering, and you always offered to give me a ride home, even if it was inconvenient for you, and you bought me a school lunch when I forgot the money for mine, and you-”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, letting your cheeks go. Staring down at you, his eyes light up with indignation, a bashful smirk on his face, “Fine. Maybe I was lame. But you liked it.”

“I did.” You speak from behind his hand, your lips brushing against his skin while you speak. Then you press a soft kiss to his palm, your eyes sparkling with adoration as you gaze dreamily up at him.

A silence falls over the room, serene and fuzzy. It tickles your tummy, makes your heart melt as you watch his grin slowly grow. It starts small, fading out from his smirk but still curving his lips up. Then his teeth poke out, his lashes fluttering as he blinks dazedly down at you.

“Love you, Eddie.” You voice the feeling you knew was consuming him too, reaching up to turn his hand over from where it was clamped over your mouth. He watches fondly as you kiss each of his rings, then an extra to the pad of his thumb, the skin rough under your lips.

“I love you too,” He drones wistfully, bending his arms at the elbows and slowly lowering down to lay on top of you. He’s heavy, nearly crushing you with his weight, but it’s a comforting feeling and you lean into it.

His head nestles snugly against your chest, your breasts squished beneath his cheek. It’s his favorite place to be, beside your heartbeat, and coincidentally, below your neck.

You feel it only seconds later. A soft flick of his forked tongue at your collarbones. The muscle slides smoothly around your protruding bone, sending a shiver down your spine. He feels it.

A soft grin grows against your skin, pride radiating off of it, “You like that?”

“It feels.. Different.” You decide, waiting with bated breath to see if he persists.

Of course, he does.

Another lap at your skin, “Good different?” then a kiss to the base of your throat.

“Great different,” You breathe, feeling his hands shift to your hips.

“I knew you’d like it.” He mumbles against your throat, his lips parting slightly to latch onto a patch of your skin. Hickies feel different with Eddie’s tongue split, now there’s two directions it can go in, and each side swirls differently around the skin before he begins sucking.

“I missed this.” He murmurs, his teeth nipping at your skin, your hands fisted in the back of his shirt, “I haven’t been able to taste you for a while, baby.”

“Taste- Taste me?” Your eyes grow wide, though you aren’t sure why, you know where this is heading.

“Your neck,” He clarifies, pressing a kiss to the slightly sore spot he’d just been suckling on, “Your pussy.”

“Eddie!” You whine, soft warmth pooling between your thighs at how forward he was being, “Eddie please, I need you, ‘need your tongue.”

“I know,” He croons, “I’m gonna make you see stars tonight, babe.”

He hasn’t even started yet, and you know he’ll keep his promise. The feeling of his tongue, slick with saliva and split down the middle snaking along your neck had been ecstasy, and you’re certain it’ll feel a thousand times better buried in your cunt.

He follows your train of thought, dragging his tongue down and flicking it below the neckline of your shirt. Your stomach caves, your nipples already reacting to his close proximity and stiffening beneath your shirt. You’re infinitely grateful you hadn’t bothered to wear a bra today.

Eddie seems delighted at the sight of your bare skin beneath your top, “Oh, were you planning on this, sweetheart? ‘Wanted t’be ready in case I was all healed?”

You nod, whimpering bashfully behind your lips as they press together, “Mhm. ‘Knew you’d want t’touch me.”

“Oh, really now?” His split tongue seems to be giving him all the confidence of a devil, that’s for sure, because he’s oozing cockiness as he laps at the underside of your breast, “Well, I hate to admit it, sweetheart, but you’re right. You gave me a pretty solid three weeks of favors,” He recalls the sloppy, hazy blowjobs you’d helped him through his healing process with, the boy above you reduced to mere whimpers and blubbers at the feeling of your tongue around his cock, “I think I owe you a thank-you.”

He’s certainly not blubbering now, as his forked tongue flicks around the bead of your nipple. You gasp at the sudden sensation, having gotten used to the warm, wet presence at the base of your breast, and his ringed hand tightens around your other tit.

“Sensitive,” He marvels, the palm of his hand flush to your other perked nipple, putting pressure against it that has your stomach bottoming out, “Does it feel better this way, angel?”

“Yes,” You nod, your head shifting against the pillow beneath it, “Yes!”

“I can tell,” Eddie muses, slotting your nipple between both sides of his tongue, “I can feel you shaking, y’know..”

You suppose you are shaking. A thigh tremble here, the slight flutter of your stomach. Becoming devil’s food is exhilarating to say the least, and you can feel warmth bleeding through your core.

“Poor, sweet angel.” Eddie laments, lips pressing in a pucker to your tit, “You were puttin’ that pretty mouth of yours all over me, weren’t’cha? And I just got to lay there.” He hums sympathetically against your skin, “Well it’s your turn now.”

He moves to your other boob, fingers pinching at the saliva-coated, sensitive nipple that he’d just released from his mouth. He ravishes the other just the same, tongue swirling and flicking and splitting over the hardened bud.

“Just relax, sweetheart.” You’re sure he’s teasing you, because his words fan the flames in your belly, they don’t put them out so that you can relax. But he presses on, his breath against your nipple coming out hazy and gruff, “‘Gonna take care of you, now.”

He sends one last fond squeeze to your nipple, retracting his tongue slowly after. The air of his bedroom is much cooler than you’d prefer, drying his saliva on you and giving your skin a sticky sheen.

Though his tongue is no longer skating across the sensitive skin of your chest, he trails it down your stomach, flicking it into the dip of your belly button. You shriek at the unexpected ticklish sensation, craning up to swat at his shoulders.

“Eddie!” You chide, covering your tummy protectively, “That tickles.”

“Sor-ryI.” He huffs, “‘M not allowed to have a little fun?”

“Not now,” You whimper, fire slowly burning through your core and up into your belly, heat pooling there, “Please jus’ touch me.”

Sympathy, sticky and sweet, twists up Eddie’s face. He presses a soft, gentle kiss to the skin of your inner thigh, his nose rutting into the crease between your thigh and your waist.

“I’m sorry, angel.” He croons, nuzzling his face into your soft skin, “I’m just teasing.”

“Don’t!” You insist, your bottom lip protruding in a picturesque pout, “Need your- ah!”

Eddie is very good at following directions, at least when he wants to. You know this, you’ve known this for a while, so when you ask him to eat you out, and he does, it shouldn’t come as a shock.

But it does, the forked muscle prodding at your slit, sliding over your entrance, has you jolting. You’d asked him to do it, you’re not sure why it surprises you.

“Fuck,” You swear, the sound harsher and more guttural than you’d have imagined possible coming from your throat, “Jesus Christ!”

“Eddie Munson,” Eddie corrects you, and you feel the smug smirk on his lips as they press to your core, “But you were pretty close.”

“Shut up,” You scoff, reaching down to grab a strand of his hair and yank it, “I said stop teasing!”

The groan that he lets out at the feeling of you tugging his hair is unintentional, but it only fans the flames of desire that burn in your belly. His tongue prods harder at your entrance, finally slipping past your slit and delving into your cunt, and he’s not expecting the gush of slick that rushes out to meet him.

“Shit,” He swears, the word near-unintelligible when murmured into your cunt, “So fuckin’ wet, sweetheart.”

He laps at you like a man damned, sucking nectar from the font of life. You’re his ambrosia, his last meal, his saving grace from the way his tongue devours your weeping cunt.

You can hear your arousal on his tongue, the sticky liquid tripping up his words and dripping down his chin, leaving his skin a shiny, glistening mess. He noses fondly at your clit, swiping his tongue up with a squelch to lap at it, “Have you thought about this before now?”

“Mhm,” You nod, one hand still tangled in Eddie’s locks, “Ever- ever since you got it done. Since.. Since before the procedure, too. Just hearin’ you talk about it was enough.

He chuckles, the sound low, deep, and vibrating through your cunt, “Oh? Well, looks like my sweet little angel isn’t much of an angel at all, are you? You’re a slut.”

He spits the word out like a bad bite of food, like something that churns his stomach and puts a frown on his face. So why does it have a pang of arousal shooting through your core?

“A filthy little slut,” He goes on, mouthing sloppily at your cunt as his words get lost between your thighs, his nose now firmly bumping your clit, “Who can’t stop thinkin’ about my tongue.”

Between long, smooth, silky strokes through your cunt, the tips of both sides of Eddie's tongue flick teasingly against your clit. It makes you writhe, his ringed fingers curling around your thighs to hold you down.

"What," He simpers, his voice vibrating through your weeping cunt, "'S too much for you? I thought you were begging," He presses his tongue flat against your slit, words coming out mottled as he holds pressure there for a split second, "For my tongue."

"Eddie," You speak through a strangled gasp, his devilish tongue lapping up the divine substance that flows freely from your pretty pussy, "Eddie please, don't tease me!"

"My sweet angel," He croons, popping a kiss to your puffy clit, "'M I bein' too mean to you?"

You nod feverishly against the pillow behind you, relishing in the reward you get in the form of a stroke of Eddie's tongue through your cunt.

"I'll play nice now, sweetheart." Eddie promises, and you've never understood the expression 'speaking with a forked tongue' until now. He does not play nice, both sides of his tongue curl around your clit and slot it between them, then squeeze, and you're nearly blacking out.

The moan that falls from your lips, sinful and wanton, only makes his tongue squeeze harder around your clit. The pressure is firm, but his tongue is soft and spongy, and interesting combination that, when paired with his fingers raking through your gaping cunt, has your orgasm rocketing towards you.

Your hips lift off of the bed, and you unconsciously press your pussy even further into Eddie’s face, “Eddie, more! More, please!”

“Greedy,” He taunts you, dropping his tongue from your clit to your cunt once more, his nose resuming its earlier position against the hypersensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue, forked and writhing, delves into your cunt, prodding and pressing and pushing against your walls and stretching you with every lithe flicker. His fingers are still pumping lower, working you further open than you thought was possible. The final straw comes when he braces his tongue flat against your cunt, dragging it tantalizingly firmly through the mess of slick through your entrance, and up to your clit, soaking it in your own arousal. The soft flick of his forked tongue, each side brushing against your sensitive bud, paired with the warm gush of arousal that coats it, sends you over the edge, your hips stuttering where you’re holding them off of the bed and your hand tightening in his hair.

You ride out your orgasm on his tongue, using the fistful of hair that you’ve grabbed to mash his face further into your cunt. You’re surprised he can breathe, but you’re certain that if he had to choose oxygen or your throbbing cunt, he’d choose you anyday. He groans into your cunt, deep, raspy ‘good girl’s only furthering your stimulation as you rock against his face. His nose repeatedly bumps your clit, a rhythm that helps you cum until every last jolt of pleasurable stimulation has turned to a mild burning sensation.

“Eddie,” You moan pathetically, your stomach still aflame, “My god, that- that was so good.”

“I can tell,” He smirks, slick still smeared over his chin and even shining on his nose. He licks his lips, once more showing off his tongue tricks as each side separates to slide over a different side of his mouth. Once he has your arousal gathered on his tongue he stands from between your thighs, giving your pussy a fond pat that makes you jolt in your place.

“I take it you like my tongue,” Eddie drawls amusedly, joining you on the bed once more, and hovering over where you’re still flat on your back with a pillow under your head.

“Yeah,” You nod, breathless as you try mustering a smile through your post-orgasm haze, “Yeah, that was- wow.”

“Wow.” He nods, using his thumb to swipe away a smear of slick on his nose and offering it up to you. You eagerly surge forwards to wrap your lips around his thumb, loving the way that he presses the pad of his finger against your tongue and watches your throat bob while you suckle him.

“All clean,” He tuts after a moment, pulling his finger out of your mouth, “Now let’s get the rest, angel.”

He leans forward, chin jutted out slightly. You’re only confused for a second on what to do, then your tongue snakes out of your mouth, much more in one piece than his is, and swipes across his chin. The taste of your own cum is one you’ve grown used to while dating Eddie, because he’s very eager to kiss you with it all over his mouth. You clean him up with long, languid strokes of your tongue, raking over his chin, lips, and flicking once against his nose. He chuckles deep and genuine, then presses his lips to your own, his tongue still stained with your arousal as it darts between your lips.

Kissing Eddie has always involved a lot of tongue, but now that it’s the feature of the day, it’s relentless. He flicks it over your lips, rolls it languidly against your tongue, and you swear no one has ever gotten closer to actually sticking their tongue down your throat. Each side of his tongue roves independently over your own, and the sensation draws a whine out of you, long and desperate and needy.

He only pulls away to tease you, nudging his nose against your own and pressing his forehead to yours, “I think this is the most fucked-out I’ve ever seen you, and I only used my tongue.”

“‘Feels really good,” You absentmindedly hum, already pressing your lips to his once more to try and entice him, “Like- like the best I’ve ever felt, Eds.”

“Really?” He quirks an eager eyebrow up, “Well, I suppose we’ll have to do that again, then.”

“Please.” You nod feverishly, playing with the strand of hair you’d yanked on only minutes prior.

“Well you helped me a lot while I was healing,” Eddie muses casually, though there’s heavy intent behind his words, “What, like every night? Really seems unfair I only help you once.”

“Wait!” Your eyes widen as his hand snakes over your waist, already squeezing your hip suggestively, “Water first.”

“Water?” Eddie echoes incredulously, a frown tugging his brows down, “You’d rather have water than my tongue?”

“Eddie I’m gonna pass out,” You insist, still fuzzy-headed from your orgasm, “I need water.”

“Whatever you say,” He chuckles, untangling himself from you as he trudges to the kitchen to fetch you a glass, “But you’d better chug it, babe, ‘cause we’re shooting for three more before lunch.”

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

tags: @sweetpeapod @zmxchs @lightvixxen @sillypurplemurple @kittenslovie @frogers @tayhar811 @live-the-fangirl-life @thefreakofhawkins86

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the-ghost-king · 2 months

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[Part 1]

"You can just call me Persephone you know," there's a slight tremble to her voice, Will can't quite place it, and it's not obvious enough to call her out on it, he only even catches it because of his musical inclined ear (Apollo score 1-2). He tried to ignore it, but he can't help but notice the weight her hesitant pause causes in the air around them.

He debates whether or not to say something, but she beats him to it.

"For you, at least, I'm not so nice to everyone so don't be giving anyone else ideas. However you can address me without my title, it's fine."

"It's an honor then," Will catches himself before he addresses her too formally, "Thank you."

She nods, somewhat stiffly.

They continue their walk down the hallway, there's a tension in the air Will hasn't felt since he tried to date Drew. Not a mistake but, not his best decision either.

“Would you like to cut through my garden on the way back?”

He’s not sure where this is going, or what is happening, but she has always been kind to him so far. He, against the advice of many hero’s stories, will trust a god not to lead him wrong. To her credit, Nico is still alive and not killing your husband’s secret bastard has to require a lot more restraint than not killing his boyfriend.

Really Will is more like an accessory. He's like Ken. He thinks it would be nice if his job was beach. Though he thinks of Percy, and decides he would not like to be Percy.

He realizes then that Persephone is staring at him, he can see her move her thumb to press on the joint of her pointer finger and the soft “pop” that emits as she cracks her joint.

“Oh yes, of course, I'm sorry- please, lead the way.”

A smile blooms across her face, “Wonderful! Off we go then!”

Will is pleased to get a good grade in appeasing goddesses. Or goddess. But he'll take it.

She leads him this was and that, her steps both meandering and direct, until they arrive at a large open space. The ground is soft and plush, but it's the plants that take his breath away.

The garden is obviously meant to be approached from a certain angle, as his awe from seeing it before cannot be compared to his awe at seeing it now. Will is well versed in plants, demigods tendency to try and self destruct and his ability to patch them back together means he is well versed in many healing arts and plants are just another aspect of that. There are plants here though that Will has never seen or heard of, their leaves glisten in the ambient light, and each petal looks like it was cut from gemstones. There's a bioluminescent glow coming from many of the plants and the provide a soft patchwork of light that fills the space with many colors.

“It's amazing,” Will says, at a loss for more eloquent words.

“I'm glad you like it, I figured you would understand it's beauty. I'm glad you can appreciate it.”

Will turns to her and smiles, “Well, of course, thank you so much for sharing.”

“C'mon,” Persephone waves him forward into the stone pathways of the garden, “we still have a ways to go.”

They walk in a more comfortable silence now, Persephone pausing briefly here and there to give extra attention to a flower or a bud. He watches her place a kiss to a glowing pink rose at one point and then feels confused as her face turns red. After that he feels nervous to touch anything, worried about the possibility of an allergic reaction if it was able to have such an effect on the goddess of spring and flowers.

“I actually was hoping to catch you alone,” Persephone rubs a hand up and down her shoulder.

Will hesitates again, but he would like to think he does a better job of masking his hesitation in his footsteps this time. He debates speaking but worries about ruining the moment.

“What did you want to talk about? Or tell me I suppose?” He finished awkwardly.

“Oh umm,” she twists a vine around her fingers, tumbling it over and over with a feigned causality, “it's a little complicated?”

Will looks around and all he can see around them is an expanse of abundant wildlife growing, above water dripping of stalactites twinkles.

“I think we have a little while before we reach the dining room again.”

He gives her a comforting smile, and she smiles back.

[Part 3]

#pjo #persephill #fanfic #part 2 and 3 have arrived!!

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sleepsonclouds · 1 month

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Clouds tropespots: The Spirealm, E09

Episode 9 (Drum sisters, 3rd door)

I've been insanely busy, but this show's helped me keep some sanity points... which is kind of ironic, considering. Anyway, we're back in the drum world, Nanzhu is still his tragic self, and it's time for the first Girlfriend Discussion! Baijie makes her (very) brief cameo!

Sickly Victorian heroine: Xu Jin has a bone to pick with Ruan Nanzhu: after questioning his courage, next come his sleeping habits! How can he be tired after sleeping all day? Nanzhu, quiet and pitiful and beautifully passive aggressive: "Sorry. I've always been in bad health. I'm sorry if I have inconvenienced you." I bet Lin Qiushi is not inconvenienced…

Appreciating partner (flirt mode): …because Nanzhu simply must thank his Linlin-ge for taking care of him! Oh, the sass is strong with this one. And is Qiushi any better for telling Nanzhu to behave while he's gone? Did he have to lean in like that? Can they get more married? (Yes.)

Refusing to sleep with strangers: Qiushi is peacefully gazing upon Nanzhu's sleeping countenance, when he's interrupted by Xu Jin. She's cold, and the only heat source she'll accept is Linlin-ge. Peak social awkwardness from Qiushi: "You're too fat. The bed's too small." Oh dear.

What did you do last night?: Nanzhu's been watching over the sleeping Qiushi. He waits until Xu Jin's left, and then: "Last night, did anything happen? …I meant between you and Xu Jin?" Not that anyone's possessive or anything. Qiushi: "What could possibly happen between me and her?" It's not that Qiushi doesn't get it - the answer just happens to be nothing.

The Girlfriend Discussion: Nanzhu asks big questions bright and early: "What broke you up with your last girlfriend?" Qiushi (practical): "I've never had a girlfriend. How am I supposed to have an ex-girlfriend?" He's been too busy with… stuff. Nanzhu (eloquent): "Oh." Why's Nanzhu so interested anyway? The answer is the most weighty "I was just asking" he could possibly deliver. While looking at Qiushi Like That. While the romantic piano music is playing.

Saving partner: Nanzhu saves Qiushi, who's hallucinating and about to kill himself. We see another, blurry person (memory?), but Nanzhu's frantic "Linlin" is the only thing that gets through, and his face is the only thing that comes into focus. Does Nanzhu actually slap him? It's very quick. At least there is lingering shoulder-touching. Someone's reluctant to let go.

Crossdressing: Li Dongyan's got a crush. On Nanzhu's cross-dressing alter ego. He's got photo proof and everything! I was wondering what they'd do with novel!crossdressing - I'm glad Nanzhu's still got his hobby! Everyone from Obsidian recognizes him, though I couldn't tell. (He's just that good.)

The Perils of Crossdressing and Being Too Hot: I have no words for this conversation, just watch it. Apparently Nanzhu has no right to make decisions for herself as himself… Cue comedy music.

Sickly Victorian heroine (cont.): Qiushi is concerned (yet again) - is Nanzhu tired? Though he was the one who almost jumped off the building. And later, he volunteers to climb up to the drum roof (despite almost being pushed down earlier), because Nanzhu's just recovered and must protect his delicate health! I'm starting to see Qiushi's priorities.

Fishing for compliments from partner: Xu Jin says something which Nanzhu misunderstands on purpose. Who'd miss a chance to ask their partner's opinion on important matters: "Linlin, do I look like a freak?" Well, not at all, of course! Naturally Nanzhu then wants to know what that means, exactly... and they're interrupted by Xu Jin. At least she admits Nanzhu is the most handsome man around. Nanzhu may forgive this.

-> Episode 10 wraps up the drum sisters story, and then we'll have something creepier to look forward to.

#the spirealm #kaleidoscope of death #danmei adaptation #tropes #clouds tropespots #spoilers #episode 9 #lin qiushi #ruan nanzhu #cdrama

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narrowroadblog · 18 days

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Why Does God Test Us?

James 1:2-4 (ESV) “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” Testing As a Means to Grow A common question among believers is, "why does God test us?" How we approach the various trials in life—whether it is pain, suffering, emotional upheaval, or anything else—says a lot about where we are in our walk with God. We are commanded to not despise the chastening of the Lord (Proverbs 3:11), because only a Father who loves us would care enough to do so (Proverbs 3:12). For an unbeliever experiencing such circumstances, where do they turn to for comfort? Only what the world can offer which more than likely will lead to further pain down the road, especially if relief comes in the numbing form of alcohol, drugs, or other destructive behaviors. Unfortunately, believers are not immune to such remedies either. For whatever reason, God seems to be a last resort when trouble befalls us. James instructs us that the trials are life will bring forth a spiritual maturity if we see God in the problem. Don’t read this that God is the problem, but rather see God providing a trial for you so He may give you an opportunity to grow. In other words, it’s not just that we should see God in the solution, but if we can recognize God’s work in us in through the trial, then we can better appreciate the outcome. While the trials of this earthly existence are not pleasurable, they can be profitable if we let them. If our faith is never tested, then how can it be perfected? One of the computer classes I used to teach was network security penetration. The purpose of the class was to learn how to spot vulnerabilities in an organization’s network that could be exploited by hackers. Through a series of different tests, we could determine where the opportunities were to fortify the network from outside influence and thus the network was made more secure and stronger than before. Testing Shows A Father's Love This is the same process we should count as joy as believers when our faith is tested. It is good to expose areas where we are weak so we can become stronger. James does not mean be happy and laughing when trials come, but rather appreciate the refinement process because only a child of God recognizes such attention from his or her Creator. I am so thankful for the trials I have been through. Admittedly, most were due to the choices I freely made, yet God used these poor decisions on my part to grow me as his child. In this, I came to realize that no matter how far I strayed, He was patiently waiting on me to come back home. Many of us are like that. For some it’s a gentle nudge to get back on the narrow road; for others like me, it was a baseball bat upside the head to get my attention. Why does God test us? Perhaps so we can learn to approach any trial that comes up with, “OK God, what are you trying to teach me here?” Finally, as Spurgeon so eloquently explains below, testing allow us to empathize with our fellow man and be a blessing to someone else in their time of trial: “Trials make more room for comforts. There is nothing that makes someone have a big heart like a great trial. I always find that little, miserable people, whose hearts are about the size of a grain of mustard seed, have never had much to try them. I have found that those people who have no sympathy for others, who never weep for others’ sorrows, very seldom have had any troubles of their own. Great hearts can only be made by great troubles. The shovel of trouble digs the reservoir of encouragement deeper and makes more room for comfort. God comes into our heart, he finds it full of earthly comforts and begins to break them, to make it empty, then there is more room for grace. The humbler a person is, the more comfort he will always have.” Spurgeon, Charles; McReynolds, Roger. Peace and Purpose in Trial and Suffering (p. 15). Kindle Edition. Get the book here Go here to read my related post on Character Shop now Read the full article

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yoonpobs · 3 years

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bad boy good thing xiv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 690

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hello!!!! we’re here at fourteen chapters omg ✨✨when i first started this series it was mostly self-indulgent and now there are people who actually enjoy reading it??🥺 it almost doesn’t seem real T.T

thank you so much for the love and support!!! just so I don't give too much spoilers for this chap - I apologise to my fellow geminis for the potential slander 🤣 this is more of a self-drag lmaooo

anyway, I hope you enjoy this chap!!!

“Ah. I’m getting allergies.” Yena sniffs, scrunching her nose.

You furrow your brows in concern, “Are you okay? Do you need any medicine?”

“It’s just the seasonal changes,” She brushes you off.

You nod in understanding, “I get it. My mom has horrible reactions towards pollen so—”

“I’m not allergic to flowers.” She blinks.

“Then what—?”

“It’s Gemini season. It’s like—literally the worst time of the year.” She blinks.

You gawk at her, taking a whole ten seconds to process her serious tone when she doesn’t waver under your scrutiny.

“I’m a Gemini,” You inform her slowly.

“I mean …” She shrugs all as you scowl at her, opting to throw the closest object you had, which was your favourite pen so you decide against it; simply shooting her the meanest glare you could possibly muster.

“Look, it’s not you,” She sighs, and you’re half-expecting her to finish with an it’s me to make you scoff, “It’s me.” And there you go. “I mean, it’s Gemini’s in general because they’re two-faced bitches who have the worst emotional attachment issues. Like they’re literally what the opposite of glue is. And they’re so over-analytical. How is it like psychoanalysing every person you meet only to hurt your own feelings and sulk about it?”

You blink.

“I mean it’s not you but if the shoe fits.” She says casually, plopping a grape into her mouth that you’re tempted to slap away.

“You’re so mean!” You pout indignantly.

She cackles, throwing her head back as you continue to sulk. You weren’t that bad. You just … you were risk-averse! You liked having the freedom to observe everyone and anyone and package them into tiny compartments in your head so you could understand them better. You weren’t … that Gemini.

“You’re so cute,” She coos pinching your cheeks. “No wonder Beef One and Beef Two like you so much.” She teases.

Your first reaction is to blush because you know who exactly she’s talking about, but you have more pressing matters, like—

“You have nicknames for them?” You ask, baffled.

“Hey, I wasn’t friends with many girls in high school. Don’t girls usually have nicknames for their crushes?” She says through a pout.

You stay expressionless as you try to gauge the level of seriousness you can extract from her tone.

You realise she’s dead serious.

“Yeah, but we’re in college,” You argue, scrunching your nose, “And sides’, it’s not like they’re strangers. We know them.”

She rolls her eyes, waving you off like you were the inconvenience here. Then she leans forward, her eyes twinkling as she takes a complete one-eighty that you try to adjust to.

“So … you Gemini hoe, what’s your plans?” She nudges you.

You raise a brow, “Did you just call me a—?”

“Plans, ___. Stay on track.” She scolds.

You sigh, still fond but you pretend to be annoyed. You really couldn’t get annoyed with Yena. After all, the more time you spend with her the more you realise how much life sucked before you had her in your life. You spent each moment learning more about her quirks and habits, her choice of words that made you giggle or laugh until you were crying.

And you realise that this is how she loves, a little rough but welcomed nonetheless.

“If you’re talking about my birthday then … not much. I’m probably stuck doing admin work for the college’s charity programme.” You shrug, stabbing a fork into your soiled salad.

Yena gapes at you, “Not much—excuse me? It’s your birthday! You’re turning twenty-five!”

You look at her dryly, “I’ve been twenty-five since the year—”

She groans, “That’s not the same! You’re like—officially twenty-five. You’re literally hitting the mark for a quarter-life crisis. Isn’t that something to celebrate?”

“Me going through an existential crisis at the end of my degree is not how I want to celebrate my birthday but okay,” You blink.

She rolls her eyes at your realism.

“That’s not the point. Point is, this is our first birthday together and I want it to be special.” She points out.

You snort, “What? Are we doubling my birthday as our monthsary or something?”

She shoves you with a brute force that has you snickering but she continues to pester you anyway.

“You’re so dumb. So smart, but so dumb,” She shakes her head, “You’re always studying or doing some form of work that requires the use of more than one brain cell. You deserve a break. Besides, you have two dudes to pick from on how you’d like to be wined and dined and—”

“Yena!” You whine.

“—it’ll be like an episode of the Bachelorette! But just with a super cool and smart best friend that’ll make the decision for you. It’s not your birthday. It’s ours.” She emphasises towards the end.

You stare at her for a long second, before the two of you are bursting into laughter at the absurdity of her statement.

It was nice, just to laugh about things without having your heart feel so heavy. Even if it was a mild distraction, it was still wholly pleasant to be able to just talk about mindless things that didn’t require much mental gymnastics to navigate the conversation with.

“What are the two of you laughing about?” Taehyung and Jimin arrive at impeccable timing, sliding into the booth with their own packaged food. It’s very college-student-esque, a cute paper (because no plastic) container filled with an array of assortments.

“None of your XY chromosomes business.” Yena retorts.

Jimin blinks, “You are literally so hostile.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to be.” She sticks her tongue out petulantly.

You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder, “Be nice.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but manages to keep a civil smile on his face. Always the more rational one between the two.

“Anyway, Yena definitely isn’t going to answer me so, what’s up?” He turns to look at you.

You roll your eyes but it’s half-hearted, “She wants to celebrate my birthday like we’re on the Bachelorette.”

“Like you’re on the Bachelorette.” She corrects.

“Oh my God, our baby’s turning twenty-five!” Jimin coos at the reminder, pinching your cheeks as he coddles you. You scowl and weakly shove him away, even if you preen under the attention.

“I’m literally older than the both of you.” You huff.

Yena blinks, “There’s no way I’m the oldest person at this table.”

Taehyung furrows his brows, “Wait—how old are you?”

She sends him a scathing glare that has his arms raised up in defence.

“Jeez, okay. Don’t answer.”

“I’m going to answer because you told me not to.” She clips. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Jimin blinks, “No wonder you and Yoongi hyung are so alike.”

You almost miss it, but as Yena so eloquently pointed out, you were a sucker for psychoanalysing people (even if you didn’t want to admit it yet) that you notice the way she flushes ever so slightly as she scoffs.

“Him? How dare you compare me to that sorry excuse of a—!”

“Okay, everyone is beneath you. I’m sorry your highness.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

You make a note to ask her about it because you know for a fact that Yoongi ‘complains’ about Yena every hour he can. It’s almost as if he can’t go long enough without mentioning her.

You smile to yourself as you duck your head.

“Exactly,” She flips her hair over her shoulders before turning to face you. “Anyway, back to you—our baby.”

Taehyung nods, “Exactly, the baby.”

You scrunch your nose, “Don’t coddle me.”

He pats your head before cooing at you like he would to an actual baby, “But you’re just so cute. You’re too good for this shitty world. Too good for the likes of mere mortals like us.”

“Not me.” Yena blinks before gesturing to their bodies, “You.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out in retaliation as you sigh at their never-ending bickering.

Somehow … it felt right. You think it most of the times but you don’t know any other way to describe how it feels to be back with your friends, laughing, bickering and just appreciating their presence.

When you and Jungkook had your issues, it was like you made the conscious choice to avoid everyone and anyone as much as you could, and any interaction you had during that period was purely out of coincidences and not the intention. You remember actively avoiding Jimin and Taehyung because it felt too draining to pretend like you didn’t have a battle in your head. Even studying or spending time with Namjoon made you feel guilty, the thought of Jungkook lingering in your mind. Yena was there through it all, but even then you saw her as much as you did with any of your classmates you so happened to share a class with.

In fact, if it weren’t for Yena you’d probably have zero social interactions as a whole because she just knew. She somehow picked up on your internal conflicts but never outwardly shamed you or confronted you about it. All she did was be there for you, offering you her presence and you were grateful.

So, yeah. Things were better, but your heart was still at its core—confused. Your feelings for Jungkook didn’t disappear overnight and you knew that you were the one that asked for space.

You forgave him … you did, honestly. But there are things you can’t forget, and those are the things that you wished you could. The words he said in principle, was outright shitty. But the fact that it came from him only poked at every single one of your insecurities that you developed over the years.

You knew it wasn’t healthy to compare yourself to other women when they were living vastly different lives than you were, but it’s proven difficult when you’re forced to see these type of women every day, at college, in your community work or on the media.

Believing Jungkook’s apparent feelings for you was harder because, well. Jungkook was Jungkook. He wasn’t just another guy, and despite his shortcomings, he had more merits than he’d let on and you knew that people saw that. It was also the fact that Jungkook had a charm that drew all types of people in. He was soft-spoken but passionate, and people loved a quiet achiever.

You … knew about the women. Way before Jennie and way before the thing between the two of you happened. Jimin and Taehyung would always update you about the new fling or girl he had tied to his hip just as he was in his final year in high school. You had to force a smile every single time they’d snicker and joke about how your Jungkook suddenly became a man overnight.

And you noticed the trend with the women he liked. They were … captivating. Beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe them because they looked like they could carry the world on their shoulders and spark immense change with just the movement of their lips. They were confident and charismatic, outgoing and just the right amount of flirty. You were anything but.

It sucked, majorly, because you spent years agonising over the fact that you were already coined with the older sister title in the group because of the way you acted—just a little more uptight than the average woman your age. You were quiet but loud in the right company; you didn’t like crowds, socialising or mingling around with people you didn’t know and based on your observations it seemed like that was the only thing that Jungkook’s been doing ever since he made it to senior year in high school, and even in the first years of college.

You don’t resent him, you think. You couldn’t blame him because you weren’t honest either. You consented, to all of the kisses and touches even if he hadn’t officially had sex with you. You wanted to, but you were terrified. Not at the prospect of penetration but at the prospect of not being enough and the fact that Jungkook was the only person you wanted to have sex with while he had options that were far more attractive and experienced than you were.

That’s why you needed time because at least you could get your shit together even if it was an uphill battle.

“Earth to ____?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your face with a concerned expression.

You blink, snapping out of your daze as you offer a meek smile and an apology.

“We just asked you if you wanted a small get together at Tae’s and I’s place for your birthday?” Jimin asks.

“Really?” You beam. That was exactly what you preferred.

“Yeah, we know you don’t like clubs and stuff. Just a small and intimate gathering with all your best buds.” He grins.

You nod your head, but Yena beats you to a response.

“By best buds you mean the three friends she has, which is us and the two meatheads duelling for her affection.” She snorts.

You flush, “Y-Yena!”

Taehyung snickers at your embarrassment.

“It doesn’t help that both of them are literally the biggest dudes on the football team. It’s literally like watching King Kong and Godzilla getting into a fight for world domination.”

Jimin throws his back in laughter as you fold your arms across your chest at post at the way your friends are practically crying in laughter at the image. Jimin was clutching onto Taehyung for his dear life because if he didn’t then he’d fall off the chair.

“Stop,” You whine, “you guys are being mean.”

“Oh my God, you’re literally the only person on this earth that would take two people fighting for your attention as an offence.” Taehyung groans.

“I-It’s not that!” You deny exasperatedly, “I-It’s just … awkward …”

Jimin sighs with a small smile, patting your head.

“If it’s any consolation I think it’s offensive that Jungkook thinks he even has the right to breathe in—”

“Jimin!”

“Wow. It really is like King Kong and Godzilla.” Jimin whistles lowly, eyeing the scene before him with amusement lingering in his eyes.

“Do you think they’re gonna start slamming their chests soon or …?” Taehyung trails off in a whisper, leaning into Jimin so that the two other men wouldn’t notice.

“I can literally hear you.” You say dryly.

Jimin offers you a plastic smile, “You’re meant to hear us, babe. How about you try to tame them like Jane did with Tarzan?”

Jimin nearly shrieks when you shove him so fiercely that he topples over into Taehyung’s grasp as the second part of the duo only catches him in the process.

You sigh, completely ignoring the way that Jimin’s muttering curses that were directed to you under his breath. Instead, you were transfixed on the scene before you—which specifically is Jungkook and Namjoon staring each other down through the mirror of the gym. You were lucky that it was just the five of you since Namjoon was able to use his captain privileges to book the gym because you had no idea how to explain the fact that two big-sized men were attempting to outdo each other in their circuit reps as if they were on a suicide mission.

“Listen, when I agreed to help you out with your sets I thought I was meant to help log it in for a report.” You exasperate, but the two men continue their manly lift-off as they huff and puff their exertion away.

“Trust me, you are helping. Being the motivation is more than—”

This time it’s Taehyung who faces your wrath as you thwack him upside the head.

From where Jungkook and Namjoon were, Jungkook can only deliver death stares into the direction of his captain who returns it tenfold. He wasn’t even sure why they were doing this but something a flicked definitely switched in Jungkook when Namjoon (purposefully) revealed that you were helping out with something. At the gym. Supposedly alone.

Jungkook’s primitive side came out because the next thing Namjoon knew was that Jungkook managed to drag himself, and Jimin and Taehyung as a diversion. He still feels his chest swell with pride when recalling the scowl on Namjoon’s face when he entered the gym, all fake smiles and a pep in his step.

“____, could you help me spot?” Namjoon breathes, sitting up from whatever the hell he was doing with the barbell. You weren’t fixated with gym language and you weren’t even sure why he was asking you when there was an entire Jimin and Taehyung right next to you.

“Uh, okay sure—“

“Noona,” Jungkook calls.

You freeze.

“Jungkook … I thought we established that you don’t need to call me that anymore.” You raise an eyebrow.

You miss the obvious glare that Namjoon shoots his bitchass friend, as well as the snorts that leave Jimin and Taehyung’s mouth.

“Pay attention to me,” Jungkook pouts. Like, actually pouts. You somehow flush because he seemed so much like the younger version of Jungkook who used to always coddle you for attention.

“Okay but after I help—”

“Yeah. After she helps me.” Namjoon interjects, and you nearly jump at the way he’s suddenly behind you, more so—pressed against your back with his hands on your hips as he moves you aside to get to another piece of equipment.

Your breath hitches because while you weren’t exactly invested in Namjoon in the romantic sense, he was undeniably attractive and … big. You could salivate in private.

“Oh my God, do you see that?” Taehyung hisses in a hushed whisper.

“Hyung is petty,” Jimin gawks.

“This is Namjoon we’re talking about. Didn’t he steal all the umbrellas from your dorm because you ratted him out to the librarian when he broke a bookshelf?” Taehyung recalls.

Jimin pauses to retract his mind to that moment.

“He’s so petty and I’m living for it. Look at Kook’s face,” He snickers, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder.

Jungkook only can clench his jaw in return because he knew that you wouldn’t be a fan of him reaching out to strangle the shit out of Namjoon. But the older boy seems fine, if not pleased with how Jungkook’s fuming in his own spot.

“Let me just …” You cock a thumb to Namjoon, before releasing a breath of your own and going to help him with whatever he needed in the first place.

“Jimin can help him. I have a more pressing problem.” He complains.

You stop in your tracks before turning around, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who finally sits up, still staring at you like you held all the solutions in the world.

“Literally wait for your turn,” Namjoon scowls.

“My arm hurts,” Jungkook says, raising his arm to show you.

“I don’t … see anything?” You furrow your brows.

“Because my muscles hurt, Noona,” Jungkook emphasises with a flex of his bicep and you can feel yourself get hot in the way your eyes can’t stray away.

You’re momentarily distracted by the blatant display of muscle by Jungkook that you completely miss the way that Jimin and Taehyung are struggling to breathe because of how hard they’re stifling their laughter or the way that Namjoon is contemplating on throwing the nearest dumbbell into Jungkook’s direction.

You flush, “Okay, you know what? Wait here. Let me get the first aid kit.” You mumble, quickly scampering off to alleviate yourself from the situation.

The moment you leave the room, Namjoon takes two long strides until he reaches where Jungkook’s sat, before wrapping a hand around the arm that was supposedly hurt—and squeezes.

“Ow! What the fuck hyung?!” Jungkook shrieks.

“Don’t hyung me, you brat.” Namjoon seethes, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook gapes, while Jimin and Taehyung watch in amusement.

“Me?! What’s wrong with you?” Jungkook retorts, equally as agitated, “Oh, _____, help spot me! Woe is me! Like she wouldn’t get crushed under you, you meathead!”

“Like you’re any better,” Namjoon snaps, “Oh, Noona, pay attention to me. My arm hurts. You might as well have asked her to change your fucking diapers at the rate you’re acting like a damn child.”

“You’re the one that started all of this!” Jungkook exasperates, “With all due respect hyung, I love you and you’re my captain but I really feel like smashing your head into the wall right now.”

“That’s it?” Namjoon scoffs, “Well I’ll do you one better and let you know that every time you breathe in my direction I feel like—”

“Oh my God will you two idiots shut the fuck up?” Taehyung interjects, snapping at the two boys who pause, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Even Jimin is surprised at Taehyung’s intervention, purely because he was the type that usually let shit slide or let other people put problematic individuals into place. He was the mediator, the diplomat—not usually the aggressor.

“Wha—”

“Another peep and I’m going to smother your body under the dumbbells and leave you here to rot and die.” Taehyung seethes, staring straight into Jungkook’s soul.

That shuts him up.

“Both of you are acting like goddamn children, and for what? To battle out your masculinity to see who gets ____’s attention first?” Taehyung exasperates.

Namjoon clears his throat, “We were just—”

“—acting like a bunch of barbarians who’s never seen civilisation?” Taehyung retorts dryly, “Yeah. Because that’s exactly what this looks like. The two of you are so petty and for what? You two are literally rubbing the last remaining brain cells you have with each other but nothing is coming out from it. Like—nothing. Do you think she’d give a shit which one of you can lift more reps? That means absolutely nothing! She’s already freaked the fuck out at the prospect of her childhood best friend being in love with her and now we have Big Tit Number One and Two battling it out like you’re in the Greek Olympics.”

Jungkook blinks, and Jimin is mildly impressed.

“So before she comes back and tends to Jungkook’s hurt muscle,” Taehyung sneers, eyes narrowing at a guilty-looking Jungkook, “Both of you better sort your shit out.”

Namjoon flushes, embarrassed at the prospect of being called out, all while Jungkook is avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Oh my God, do you have a crush on each other or something? Apologise!” Taehyung gestures towards the two boys who awkwardly blink at each other, feeling much like reprimanded children.

It’s Namjoon who breaks the silence first, clearly the more mature one in the situation.

“Look … Jungkook,” He sighs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … drag it out like this. I don’t mean it maliciously and you’re my friend and teammate, so I’d really hate if a girl got in the way.”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips, eyebrows still scrunched; and the irrational part of him tells him to ignore the apology. But with the way that Taehyung is glaring him down, with Jimin’s expectant gaze, he knows that he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’m sorry … too,” he winces at his own voice, “But just to let you know … I really …” He shuts his eyes, feeling his chest tighten when he tries to force the words out, “She isn’t just … a girl to me, hyung. I really, really like her. And—I know you like her too but … I fucked up and I really want to make things right and seeing you—”

Jungkook is flushing while he rambles on, fully aware that the rest of his friends are listening intently to him speaking his heart. But a hand rests itself on his shoulder, and when Jungkook opens his eyes he sees Namjoon offering him a gentle smile.

“I know,” He says, “I know I said I wouldn’t back off …” He trails off and Jungkook recalls the conversation he had with him in the very same gym just a few weeks back, “But I don’t think I can compete with a decade long love story.”

Jungkook scoffs, though his ears are flushed.

“It’s really not—”

Namjoon waves him off, clasping a tight hand onto his back that tells him it’s okay, and whatever that was going on would get better. And Jungkook feels marginally better and allows himself to let out a sigh of release.

“So are the two of you gonna kiss or what?” Jimin asks in the midst of the silence.

Namjoon glares at the boy, “Don’t make me give you an extra ten laps.”

He backs down immediately, raising his hands up in defence. And at that moment, you return, all smiles and with a pant as you raise the first aid kit up.

“Your arm?” You smile sweetly, and Jungkook can only offer a weak on in return.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends. Will I have to run from the government if I answer you honestly?” Yena ponders out loud.

You roll your eyes but shake your head anyway. The two of you were meant to be cooking dinner but you’ve surrendered yourself to Netflix and Yena’s witty live commentary on horrible films you were scrolling through an hour earlier. Though, your head wasn’t quite in it, to begin with; your thoughts drifting to other aspects, ones that you thought too hard for and didn’t necessarily know the answer to.

It was frustrating, the way that you wanted to have a solution for everything but overthought every single case that happens to pass by your mind.

“No one’s hunting anyone down, your anarchist,” You say, “This is a little … personal.”

You didn’t have any girl friends prior to Yena, and that was your first mistake. You weren’t the person that actively avoided having girl friends because you thought they were dramatic or overly emotional but purely because you never knew how to befriend women. It was weird—being a woman yet being muddled with your own sense of femininity that suppressed your ability to form meaningful friendships with your women peers.

Throughout most of your childhood and teenaged life, you only had Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. While they were more than enough to keep your memories cheerful and filled with laughter, there were more personal things that you couldn’t quite approach them with. They had each other to confide in their ‘manly’ discussions, small talk that you’d often flush at—but you couldn’t ask them the same things you wanted to.

You knew, that on a fundamental level that your personal things were just … things. It wasn’t that deep, nor did it require a PhD in Gender Studies to fully understand the nuance of periods or apparent ‘girl’ problems; you just needed to listen. But you were timid, and you got embarrassed super easily—so that never boded well whenever you’d want to approach them with a question of your own.

But now, you had Yena—debatably the most open and understanding person you’ve met in your life; and you owed it to yourself, and her—to be honest, to live yourself vicariously in your girl best friends eyes—and ask:

“How do you have sex?”

Granted, there was definitely a smoother way of peeling off the bandaid, but you supposed if you were going to be discussing this one way or another, you’d go big or go home.

“I’m sorry,” She coughs, “What?”

You blink.

“Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked if you were a virgin first …” You mumble.

Yena stares at you with a stupefied expression as she gapes at you.

“Hey, repeat after me: candy, tree and cat.” She grabs you by your shoulders.

“I’m not cerebrally compromised, Yena,” you say dryly.

“Repeat,” She glares.

You huff, shoving her hand off your shoulder.

“Candy, tree and cat. There, happy?” You huff.

She eyes you weirdly as you sigh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes!” You exasperate, “So like … how? Do you just? Penetrate?”

Yena blinks one more time, her eyes trailing to the ceiling as she asks for a higher being to give her strength before she returns her gaze onto your figure.

“Babe, that is literally the unsexiest way to approach sex.”

“Penetration?” You furrow your brows.

She scrunches her brows, “No.” She gestures to you, “That.”

You scowl.

“I don’t know how to approach sex! That’s why I’m asking you. I literally don’t know who else to approach. If I went to Jimin or Taehyung I’m pretty sure they’d just stare at me and cry. Namjoon is out of the picture because he’d likely approach sex textbook style and I don’t need that level of detail right now. I definitely can’t ask Jungkook because he’s the guy I wanna have sex with. So yeah. I’m here because you’re a woman and the only person I can have a full conversation with without losing my will to live.”

Yena gawks at you, jaw slack as you finish your ramble; ears flushed.

“… you …” She begins, wracking her brain for the words that seem to fail her, “… okay. You know what, the fact that you’re here and putting your big girl pants on and asking me this is a feat in itself so I’m going to just ignore the fact that you said you wanted to have sex with Jungkook.”

You flush, “I was word vomiting—”

“Ah,” She holds her hands up, levelling you with a knowing glare, “If you want honest, you be honest too.”

You slump in your seat, sighing as you nod your head defeatedly.

“Firstly, I’m not a virgin. I could never be a virgin.” Yena declares, “Granted, I’ve slept with three people and two of them were women. But the idiot I lost my virginity to was, unfortunately, of XY chromosomes so … I guess I can answer your questions.”

“I mean … I know how sex works but … approaching it …” You mutter.

“And sex isn’t this groundbreaking act that requires Einstein’s IQ to partake in. It’s both intimate and not, and that’s definitely a personal preference. You can know the semantics of how people have sex, for hets in this case, which is just the classic ol’ penetration method where the penis enters the—”

“Your point?” You exasperate.

“—okay, I got a little carried away. But really, sex isn’t … difficult. It’s scary, I’ll give you that. But you don’t go into your first time thinking you’ll be great at it. Hell, you won’t even like sex that much your first few times unless your partner is a sex demon or something.”

“I mean when Jungkook …” You shudder, “When he … I … you know, did things … it felt …” You fiddle with your fingers. Your ears were undoubtedly on fire, and you were so embarrassed saying these things out loud because it was just so awkward!

“Good? You know I’m not going to judge you for it,” she says pointedly, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

You flush, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. You knew that Yena would never judge you for something as trivial and as unimportant as your sexual endeavours, but this was still a road you’ve yet to properly navigate yourself.

“I … came,” you wince at your breathy voice, “It felt good. And … he’s experienced, you know? I just don’t want to …”

Yena looks at you inquisitively.

“You don’t want to …?”

You sigh deeply, considering your next words with a soft murmur, “I don’t want to not live up to his expectations, you know?”

She frowns at you, “Jungkook’s made some mistakes but you said it yourself. He’s in love with you,” she says softly, “There’s no pressure to have sex with him just because it’s out in the open now, you know?”

You nibble on your lips.

“It’s … more than just that,” you tell her, “I told him I needed time, and really, I do. But it isn’t because I’m confused. I mean, kind of—but really it’s because I don’t want to walk into something and disappoint him … I’m just … scared.”

Yena holds your hand in hers while offering you a gentle smile.

“It’s valid that you’re scared. But there really isn’t anything that can come out of being scared right now. The two of you worked through an obstacle, and here you are creating another one that doesn’t quite exist yet. Trust me, when the time feels right, it does. And you’ll feel ready. Will you still be scared? Maybe. But it’ll feel like it’s meant to fit within your timeline.”

You nibble on your lips, “Is it bad that I’m overthinking this?” You wince.

Yena shrugs her shoulders, “Like everything else in your life?” She teases.

You whine, shoving at her shoulder playfully where all Yena does is snicker in response. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting out of the conversation, even if it was vaguely about the ins and outs of sexual exploration. And she was right, you’ll always be afraid of something, whether it’ll benefit you or harm you because that’s what change does. It shifts your comfort zone into a space that may be unfamiliar but necessary.

You lean into Yena’s shoulder, and a wave of overwhelming emotion washes upon you when you look at her. You really didn’t know how you survived a time without Yena in your life. And as if she’s noticed your glassy gaze, she raises an eyebrow at you.

“What are you looking at?”

You grin at her, all teeth and gums on display as you hug onto her arm like a koala.

“I’m just really happy you’re in my life.” You sigh wistfully.

She pauses for one whole second before she snorts.

“Wow, talk about sex once and suddenly you’re in love with me?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, “Tell Jeon and Kim that you’re mine now.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“They’re not even competing in the same league as you are,” you assure her.

She smiles.

“So … does that mean I don’t need to get you a birthday gift?”

That earns a thwack on her shoulder.

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randomfandomimagine · 3 years

Note

Prompt for Geralt of Rivia + 3-1 “I’m the hardest goodbye that you’ll ever have to say“, please? Thank you so much!!

Want to send a request? Read my rules first, please!

Geralt of Rivia x Gender Neutral Reader

The silence was unbearable. It felt so loud that it resonated in your very bones. It was deafening.

Tears welled up in your eyes, but his amber gaze was focused in a faraway point. Avoiding you. Probably not even seeing where he was looking.

“So that is it then?” You whispered, too hurt to put it into words.

“Yes” Was all that answer he gave you, still averting his eyes.

“If this is some kind of bullshit noble reason, Geralt...” You gulped, aching at the thought of be facing that scenario. Or walking away from him forever. “Is that why you’re shutting me out? To protect me?”

The witcher didn’t reply, he didn’t even grace you with one of his eloquent grunts. No, this time he refused to let you understand in any way. But you knew him to well.

“It is, isn’t it?” You let out a dry chuckle, causing him to watch you with the corner of his eye. “Like I can’t protect myself, you obstinate witcher”

“That is not the point” He finally spoke up, muttering through grit teeth.

“Then what is?” You insisted, tapping his shoulder in a gentle shove. Geralt clenched his jaw, but otherwise he didn’t react. “Tell me so I can understand”

“No”

“Talk to me, Geralt!”

“I can’t!” His voice, suddenly loud, startled you. It resonated in the emptiness of the forest, scaring the birds away. It echoed in your heart, reminding you that your last hope was ruined.

“I see...” You saddly nodded your head, sharply breathing in when the tears rolled down your cheeks. “But I must ask you once more... are you sure you want to do this?”

Geralt tensed up, taking a deep breath. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours, even then. His brow furrowed, as though it tried to speak all those words he refused to say aloud. His amber eyes glanced your direction, admiring you for a split second before he looked away yet again.

“You better be sure of this decision, witcher” You coldly told him, gritting your teeth yourself. “I’m the hardest goodbye that you’ll ever have to say”

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. His exterior was a perfect facade of ice. You shook your head, knowing his warm interior. That feeling and bleeding heart that he had protected with those inconquerable walls.

“Fine” You reached out for his calloused hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. It was the last display of affection that you allowed him and yourself. “Goodbye, Geralt... see you never”

You turned around, refusing to look at him. His lips trembled, even if you couldn’t see. He parted them, hesitating to say some last words of farewell, of apprecation for all those wonderful moments you had given him. But he remained silent, not wanting to fall into the temptation.

Geralt heaved a sigh as he watched you walk away, but that was the only thing he allowed himself. He only stood there. He let you go. For your own good.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!! // Masterlist

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#geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt imagine #geralt prompt #faves #geralt of rivia prompt #geralt of rivia #geralt #the witcher #the witcher imagine #the witcher prompt #prompt #rfi writings #reader insert #requested #anon request

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Hopefully, this is not too vague... I was wondering if you could do fluff with Molly; his nickname for the reader is 'princess'. (I have had a rough couple weeks, found out some bad news regarding my dad's health, and am just wanting a little pick-me-up. You are literally my favorite writer of the lavender tiefling trio.)

A load of fluff with some hinted spice coming right up. Sorry about your dad, sweetie and hope things take a more positive turn. Either way, I hope this is the pick-me-up you're looking for. 😘

You’re no stranger to waking up alone but never does it stop you from reaching out to the spot next to you. When you’re not met with a soft groan or arms wrapping around you, pulling you close begging for another five minutes of peace you know your lavender tiefling has begun his day before you. Rolling over onto your back you stretch taking in a deep breath. Time to get ready for the day, maybe find some breakfast? Breakfast sounds nice.

Mollymauk walks down the beaten path, a skip in his step and a small bouquet of wild roses clasped in his hand. He’s been up and about for a good hour now and like the good carney he is he’s working on quite the show in his mind; a show that requires the aid of a pretty face, charming smile and honeyed words he alone cannot provide. No he needs assistance and if he plans on getting this assistance he better work for it. Okay, maybe it’s not his plan. Maybe this is all just the result of a major fuck up on his end but still, it will make for some good fun… if all goes well… and you agree… The fact he gets to pamper you is a huge bonus. It’s been a while since he’s gotten the chance to show you just how much you mean to him.

Could Molly just ask for your help? Of course he could. And would you agree to join him on this endeavour? How could you refuse that devilishly handsome man? But where’s the fun in that. Let’s keep things interesting. Raise the stakes a little bit and see where his charm will get him. Or perhaps more, see how long it takes you to catch on tp the mess he made and pray to the Moonweaver you’ll be merciful. A test of his charm perhaps? Whatever excuse best justifies his actions and desires to spoil you rotten.

Stretching your arms with one final yawn you leave your tent. It’s too early to be up but you best keep an eye on your tiefling before he gets himself thrown into jail and you have to break him out… again. Wandering the camp the other members of the Fletching and Moondrop Carnival of Curiosities are waking up and going about their morning business at their own paces. You search for Molly but when you don’t find him you take to the road, following it towards the town. If he’s caused any trouble there you’d find out soon enough.

A lovely melody reaches Molly’s ears. He knows exactly who it belongs to and hears you before he sees you. All he needs to do is follow your song. Curving over the elevation of the path he spots you, lost in thought. Smile on his face he approaches you, flowers behind his back, and joins in whistling along to the melody. The way your eyes light up at the realisation of his presence are enough to make his heart melt knowing that one creature could look upon him with such unconditional love.

“Good morning, your royal highness.” Mollymauk takes a bow befitting of greeting royalty if not a little exaggerated and offers you the flowers. While he tries to keep his gaze on the ground you catch him peaking for your response as you take the flowers from his grasp breathing in their scent.

“Good morning to you too. And thank you, I should say? What’s the occasion?” You ask, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth but you can’t help feel a little suspicious at Molly’s very deliberate theatrics.

“Can a most loyal servant not present his beloved princess with flowers?” Molly rises and you get the slightest flash of fang from the smile he offers you.

“You know I am never one to deny your gifts and gestures of affection. What I’m referring to are your apparent needs for theatrics.” You speak with eloquence feeling yourself slipping into the same act he’s putting on. Dammit Mollymauk, for playing into your actor side and letting you slip up into the role he’s setting you up for. You know damn well he’s aware of what he’s doing.

“I am merely your humble servant. A humble servant with impeccable manners.” You snort as Molly offers you his arm. You lace yours through his and he begins leading you back the way you came.

“Impeccable manners you say? Because I recall not but two nights ago copious amounts of drinks, illegal gambling and theft were involved. And let’s not even mention the… desecration of the fountain within the gaze of the Platinum Dragon’s statue.”

“You say that as if those of noble birth do not partake in such activities, princess.” Molly counters. Touché. As you’re about to take a step to the right fork of the road Molly gently pulls you into the left direction instead. Confused you give him another suspicious look but he hushes you leading you down the path.

You find yourself retreating within your thoughts trying to pinpoint whatever shenanigans Molly is up to, planning or has been up to and why the need to be secretive instead of just telling you. Molly couldn’t hope for a better moment for you to stop your interrogation for he fears any more prodding around for answers and he will spill the beans and come clean. He can’t hide a single thing from you when you’re determined and he knows it.

The path slowly turns from trodden earth to more fine sand until it fades into the beach. The sound of waves and a seagull or two make for a pleasant setting. You see just far enough away from the shoreline as to not become victim to the tides, is a basket set on top of a blanket. Molly leads you over, guides you to sit upon the blanket gracefully before plopping down himself with much less show. Within the basket you spot several packed goods. Molly takes a few out and sets them down upon the blanket, unwrapping them as he goes. Some bread, a selection of fine jams, some cheese and delicious sugary sweet pastries.

“Okay, time to drop the act. While I appreciate all this, what did you do and how bad is it?” Molly takes out a bottle of what looks like expensive champagne along with two glasses and pours them, handing one to you.

“What makes you say that?” Molly takes a sip playing it cool and innocent.

“The top shelf bottle of champagne that is very much above our collective pay grades. Where did you even get this?” You take a sip. It’s not bad but not the greatest you’ve ever had either. A weird taste that can only be suitable for some upscale party or the nobility passes out to their guests to impress them simply because of the associated name and or price tag. What can you say? Rich people.

Molly hesitates but drops the innocent act. Best he comes clean now. You’ve caught on fully. Game over. But that definitely doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy this delicious breakfast with him, can you? Mollymauk takes a slice of the fresh bread, adding a nice layer of strawberry jam and takes a bite. At least the expensive jam was worth the money. Then again, it wasn’t his money that paid for it. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t money well spent.

“Now, I need you to promise me one thing first, love. Promise me you’ll let me tell you the whole thing before you judge my poor decision making.”

“I can do that.” You lean back and relax taking one of the pastries and taking a bite. Bearclaws with cinnamon? Delicious. Let’s hope for Molly’s sake it will keep your judgement somewhat at bay.

“When we were doing our usual rounds and you were off on your own I may or may not have let it slip to someone who happens to be part of the local nobility, several someones to be more precise, that you may or may not be a princess in hiding. And I may or may not have played a little bit too deeply into the story…”

“Okay, that’s not actually that bad?” Just wait for the second part. It gets worse. On second thought. He may be regretting telling you and not just convincing you to hide away for the next few days in town until you’re back on the road.

“And these poor suckers may have fact checked it finding some evidence of a princess from another continent who supposedly is traveling in disguise. They came to see the show and I want you to remember they left a most generous donation along with an invitation for you to attend a ball held in your honour.” Molly awaits your response as you stop mid bite.

“So they left an invitation for a princess? What about it? Just don’t show up and done.”

“That would work if the local lord did not gently hinted at exposing said princess and sending the guards to return them to their family as they ran away and the good favour of either side of that royal family should greatly benefit this town. I’m sorry, princess but your presence has been demanded.”

Okay… This is bad. You do not feel like being hunted by the guards and it’s not like you can make an inconspicuous escape now people might look at you as royalty. You set down the pastry clasp your hands together closing your eyes. You inhale and exhale deeply as Molly briefly fears for his life.

“You… really need to learn to hold that tongue of yours, Molly. It’s getting you in all sorts of trouble.” He bites back a comment about using that tongue of his for plenty of other good things. He’s having trouble reading where you stand on this all and doesn’t know wether you’re upset with him or disappointed or if he has to be the one running for his life soon.

“Let’s talk to Orna and get some appropriate dress for the occasion ready and wearable even if that means she’ll have to sew us into our garments.” You sigh.

“Us?” He questions and he does not like the mischievous look on your face. Whatever you’re plotting, he hopes you have mercy on his soul.

“Oh, I will not be attending on my own. No, a princess does not go anywhere without their loyal servant. A princess needs their escort to attend to their every whim.” You hold your chin high as you move to sitting on your knees pushing your palm flush against his chest exercising a little pressure to push him to lean back onto his elbows.

“Every whim you say?” Molly asks with a devilish grin as you swing one leg over him gently keeping him in place with your body and wrapping your arms around his neck playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck. Maybe the turnout isn’t so bad.

“‘Every whim you say, princess’.” You correct mimicking his grin and leaning in closer. Molly goes to close the distance but you raise your index finger to his chin. “Ah-ah.”

“May I not kiss you now, ‘princess’?” He mocks and you give him a stern look.

“It’s unbecoming of a mere servant to make such a bold move.” You pull on his hair when Molly tries to land a kiss on your cheek rather enjoying the turn of events this morning.

“Yet you appear to be the one in full control.”

“He knows his place. Good boy.” You praise with a pat to his cheek and you guide his face to yours, your lips meeting in a deep kiss, the food forgotten. Molly’s hands dance over from your hips to your lower back pulling you closer to him. You earn an unsatisfied grumble when you pull away a moment too soon.

“Must you torture me so with your touch, princess?” Molly laughs fully aware what direction this is going, raising a hand to caress your cheek fondly.

“Will you finally learn how to behave?” You trace the peacock feathers curving up the side of his neck and jaw. You don’t get a verbal reply but instead Molly’s lips find their way to your neck leaving a trail of kisses and little bites as he goes enough to make you giggle and squeal in surprise whenever he finds just the right spot, taking your mind far away from the details of the fuck up that lead you here in the first place. Not that you mind anymore. If this is the treatment you get for being dragged into one of Mollymauk’s lies gone south you’ll gladly take it a thousand times over.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #mollymauk x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

Hi there, I'm a really big fan of your metas and I appreciate the perspective you bring since you are a lot more focused on canon than most people I follow (I personally prefer the ~vibe of twilight over the execution so Im guilty of a lot of canon-divergent "what-if-ing" lol). I'm not sure if you've addressed this before but I was wondering: what draws you most to twilight? Is there anything you would want to change about the series? I hope you're having a nice day! -bellaslilpapercut

Ooh this is a fun ask. And thank you for your kind words!! For the record I too enjoy my what-ifs, too much in fact. Fanfic is a years-long addiction of mine.

As for what draws me to Twilight, I’ll just bullet point them.

The vampires Meyer’s vampires aren’t really vampires at all, they’re aliens who call themselves vampires. They’re absolutely fascinating creatures, terrifying and inhuman in a way so few authors manage to create true inhumanity. (I find so many supernatural creatures end up basically being gimmicks, enhanced humans at best. If you can’t tell your vampire apart from an MCU superhero, you’re doing it wrong.)

The worldbuilding There are many things I like about Meyer’s worldbuilding, one of them being her restraint. There are vampires, shapeshifters, and a one-off reference to the nearly extinct werewolves. That’s it. She created the creatures her story needed, and not one leprechaun more. And I like that for a lot of reasons, the big one being that it makes her creatures serve the story, rather than the other way around. Another major thing I like about her worldbuilding is that a lot of fantasy stories want to have their regular modern world the reader can recognize and eat the vampire cake too. You get these universes where the supernatural exists, only it’s secret and hasn’t impacted the world we know in any way because... reasons. The Vampire Diaries is a great example, we have vampires eat people with abandon yet their existence is a secret to the world at large. Why is that? Why, in a world where the supernatural is commonplace, does the world not look different? Twilight answers these questions.

The characters Meyer creates so many great characters. I have my favorites, of course, but I find nearly all the characters she created interesting. (Well, considering how so many of the characters we get to know in the Guide are hilarious, perhaps “entertaining” is a better word for it) More, while there are some characters that could have been cut (Esme and Emmett come to mind), on the whole most characters in the story have a reason to be in it. And that’s not a given at all, Harry Potter is a shining example of a cast where 90% could have been cut. (Example: remove the Crouch family from Goblet of Fire and have Pettigrew abduct Harry instead of Barty Crouch Jr.. The plot doesn’t change at all. The Crouch family has failed the sexy lamp test. So have almost all of Harry’s classmates.)

The unreliable narrator Caveat - I think all narrators are in some way unreliable. The difference is how much, and to how great a degree what’s actually happening shines through to the reader. And Twilight is a story where there’s stuff happening behind the scenes all the time, people Bella doesn’t understand doing things for reasons Bella doesn’t know about, and Bella never realizes any of it. This makes Twilight a lot of fun to engage with.

The loose threads I sort of get into this below, but there are so many loose threads in Twilight, which means endless fanfic material. Other fandoms, where I wouldn’t change a thing, end up being fandoms I don’t write anything for either. (See Prometheus - loved it, never writing fic for it) Why change perfection? Twilight, on the other hand, I get ideas faster than I can write them.

As for what I’d change...

I’m happy with the story. It’s not quite the story I would have written, off the top of my head I would have gone a different direction with Victoria and had her successfully kidnap Bella in New Moon, only to find that killing this human when Edward clearly doesn’t care would be no revenge at all, and that this human is really all she’s got left at this point. (See? I do like my what-ifs!).

Alternatively, if I was writing the story that occurs in Twilight, then I would have chosen Carlisle’s point of view and it would have been Othello with vampires, featuring Aro as Desdemona. I mean, that already is the story, it’s just that Bella’s narration is so oblivious she never realizes.

This is not to say I wouldn’t have done a lot of things very differently if I were writing Twilight. Jasper, for instance, I would not have him drop “fun fact, I fought for the right to own slaves!” mid-conversation and then never bring it up again. And bigger things, such as I would have cut Jacob and the wolves entirely (And now we’re back to “Victoria kidnaps Bella and the story turns into femmeslash”. I end up with weird ships in Twilight, and the thing is that I see no way around them. How do you people who ship the canon pairs do it?! Tell me your secrets!).

Point being, I would have changed a lot of things. Breaking up the Cullens is another big one, that coven is unsustainable and I'm like a Persian warrior because all I wanna do is watch these Olympics fall.

And there’s one thing I’d change unequivocally, the first thing I’d change, the thing I would pull into a dark alley and stab, and that’s the imprinting. It’s a life-ruiner for everybody involved, it plays into this nasty theme of the shapeshifters losing their free will, and it doesn’t even serve the story to make up for it. Jacob and the Quileutes had no need to be in the story in Breaking Dawn, the Cullens could have left town (and were going to) and that would have been it. So, I would cut the imprinting. With a knife.

This is not to say I don’t like what Meyer did, though. I agree with the decisions the characters make, big and small, at no point in the series do I go “X wouldn’t do that, that’s OOC!”. I even like the plot of Breaking Dawn. Everything that happens in the story makes sense to me. I do, sincerely, enjoy Twilight. It’s just- well, it’s not how I would have told this story.

Oh, and of course - the use of a real minority the way Meyer did was egregious and she should never have done it. More, I was shocked and disappointed to learn the Quileute tribe didn’t profit from this. You would think they would have been involved in merch for Twilight - this could have become a huge source of income for them - but nope. Others have spoken far more eloquently than me on this matter and have said everything I could, so I’ll just note that no fictional series should use (there’s really no other word for it) a real and oppressed minority the way Twilight did. The fact that the Quileute tribe didn’t even get to see any of that Twilight money is just salt in the wound.

#the victoria scenario is a fic i intend to write #which is why it came to mind so readily #stephenie meyer #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #twilight worldbuilding #victoria #bella swan #twilight vampires #theoldpinkdog #ask

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flameohotwife · 2 years

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Hello, I don't know if you remember me, but I'm the anon that once commented here on A Noble Predicament. I'm still scared of commenting on fanfiction.net so here I am again! This time I want to appreciate the Tea Time of yours! I am IN LOVE with that fic! GRAN GRAN YOU HOLY CREATURE THAT UNDERSTANDS KATAANG. I have read many fics with her, but she always felt kinda off and out of the character that was portrayed in the show. Your Kanna although was amazing! Sweet and understanding, just like in the show. She knows Katara well and always puts the needs of her family first - we can see where Katara has learned that. I really like reading talks like that and it was so beautifully handled by you! So once again I'm trying to tell you that you're one of my favorite fanfic writers and every time you drop something new I'm head over heels for that! Thanks for your work in the fandom! I wish I could say more about your work, but I'm literally speechless (and a bit sick so sorry for the lack of eloquence)

ANON!!! HOW could I possibly forget you?? You were the very first person to ever come anonymously into my inbox with kind words for my fics and I will treasure you forever for that alone. I am so, so glad you enjoyed Tea Time!! Truly, I had so much fun writing that, too. It is part of a larger (explicit) series on ao3, but I felt it needed a good segue into the next part (which isn't written yet, heh) with some fond, encouraging Katara and Kanna content, AND that it could stand on its own outside the series.

I feel like canon Kanna could have probably gone either way (she was rather wary of Aang at first--"Don't put all your hopes in this boy"--before she found out he was the Avatar and then fully encouraged Katara and Sokka to go after him). She could have supported progressing their relationship (like she did in my fic) or she could have warned them to be careful and been more stern and maybe even a little more puritanical about it (I don't think that would be culturally accurate, though). BUT given her own history (running away from the North Pole and her engagement to Pakku), I decided to lean into encouraging and empowering Katara to make her own decisions about her body and what she was or was not ready for.

And you are so right that she knows Katara well. She would be more observant than Hakoda or Sokka might be in terms of Katara's feelings, and she would absolutely understand feeling stifled at home, and maybe needing a push in the right direction so that she isn't JUST putting others' needs before her own. Katara will never turn her back on people who need her, but she also isn't a martyr. She will stand up for herself when she needs to, but at that age and stage it is hard to differentiate your wants from your needs, in terms of... everything they were discussing... haha.

I'm so sorry you're feeling under the weather, anon, and I hope you feel better soon! I just want you to know that your asks absolutely make my entire day, and I truly appreciate and thank you for them!! I am sending you lots of virtual hugs and tea and soup <3

Tea Time (rated T): read on ffn or ao3

#anon #asks #tea time #kataang fanfic #we stan supportive gran gran #anon you are the sweetest omg #so many warm fuzzies from this ask and wow did i need them #feel better soon anon!

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

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If You Leave Me Now

Summary: Ms. Oh’s letter gives Cha-young courage to say what’s in her heart.

Author’s Note: Back with another Chayenzo fic and surprisingly no angst this time, today’s episode inspired me to write this. Also fulfilled my Chayenzo fic prompt, this is what you call efficiency ladies and gents LOL I wanted to write sweet emotionally stunted Vinny and brave CY trying to let him know that he deserves love, hope you enjoy!

She doesn’t know what she had been expecting from the letter, initially she had thought it would simply be a thank you note-though it was unnecessary Ms. Oh was always very grateful and seemed to think that her mere existence was a nuisance to those around her. The woman had been so beaten down by life and she feels a sense of pride that her father spent all these years caring for someone that all others had all but thrown away after destroying her. She would never be as intrinsically good and right as her late father, she had too much blood and bad deeds on her hands to be sanctified but helping the powerless, she had enough heart left to see that this was something she cared about.

She had spent years following her mother’s untimely death hardening herself and convincing herself that others didn’t matter to her. She was an island and she needed no one else. This was her mantra as she worked her way up the social ladder at Wusang and purchased more and more temporary happiness in the form of bags and pretty suits, materialism filled the void that was left by her lack of any true love in her life.

She gently folds back up the letter, letting the tears cascade down her cheeks the words still tugging at her heart.

The woman had come to terms with her fate, knowing that while we are all essentially dying each day her days were numbered and their was an expiration date lingering in the imminent future. But it wasn’t those words that made her cry it was the words she has never seen coming.

It seemed the only people they were lying to were each other.

Ms. Oh knew.

Had known all this time and hadn’t deigned herself worthy of revealing the secret and getting the opportunity to hear that sacred word that only one person could anoint her with.

Eomeoni.

“It’s enough that I get to see him. He has grown up so well without me.”

It must have been torture for the poor woman to see the very son she had given away and not be able to hold him or hear his voice as he called her mother, her smile never quite reached her eyes when he called her Ms. Oh. It was as if she was quietly waiting and suffering for the day when he would slip and reveal their true relationship but if her partner was anything he was steadfast and stubborn. He wouldn’t be saying a word, at least without a nudge.

His words echo in her memory, “People like me don’t deserve love.”

it was such bullshit and cop out but she recognized it for what it was, a convenient shield from his feelings. If he believed that he didn’t have any right to love then he would avoid the pain that came from loving someone, the expectations and the vulnerability.

Squeezing the papers between her shivering fingers she grabs her phone before she can second guess herself, his number is the most recent in her call list. She had called him earlier today to see what he wanted to eat for breakfast tomorrow, it was his day to choose she had chosen last time.

The phone only rings once before he’s answering, his voice is warm honey through the speaker she knows he is laying down in his ridiculously expensive silk pajamas. She absently wonders how it would feel on her skin.

“Hmm what is it?” He answers groggily, sounding sleepy but patient and she can detect no annoyance at her calling so late, instead he sounds concerned and she can hear the faint sounds of him moving.

“I’m okay. You don’t need to get dressed.” He sighs in response, the sounds of movement fading and then it’s silent except the faint coos of Inzaghi in the background. “is Inzaghi keeping you up again? Maybe you should get someone to get rid of him?”

“No! How could I-- I mean no, it’s fine. His coos don’t bother me anymore. I find them soothing.” He replies more passionately than she had expected, he had been many hours cursing the pigeon in the past much to her chagrin but lately it was like he had found a new appreciation for the bird. It was weird. It wasn’t like the bird had saved him or something ludicrous like that so she had no idea why he was behaving like this.

“Okay.”

“What’s wrong? Why are you calling so late?” He hums on the other line, sounds of the kitchen reaching her ears now, he’s probably making tea he wasn’t much of a fan before but it had slowly grown on him. She had obnoxiously bought him a huge box of tea while she had been staying with him after he’d told her how he only enjoyed coffee- real coffee not the garbage she drank, she forced him to drink them with her every morning until he started making them on his own much to her amusement.

“Drink the chamomile tea, it’ll help you fall asleep.”

After a small pause he answers, “I don’t have trouble falling asleep.”

He lies and she doesn’t call him out, both recalling that night he had woken up sweaty and panicked after a dream. She hadn't questioned him seeing the terror on his face, knowing it wasn’t the right time. She had quietly made him tea and stayed up until he fell asleep, tucking the blanket more snuggly around him.

She listens as the kettle whistles signaling it’s readiness and suddenly she feels ready too, despite the consequences.

“Are you still planning on leaving Korea after you get the gold?” She asks suddenly, a familiar fear pressing on her chest the longer he goes without answering her and she can almost see his face- his wide eyes and the purposeful stoic look firmly in place.

“Why do you keep asking me that?” His voice is tired, desperately so and she can hear the hidden message, “why are you making me face my emotions?” and honestly she doesn’t know why herself, she has never been one to face her own emotions not with matters of the heart. She spent years pretending not to need her father’s approval or love whilst secretly pining and desperate for any attention from him even though she had been the one to push him away first.

It’s your fault she’s dead!

With those vicious words she had ripped her father’s beating heart from his chest and stomped on it with her stiletto heels. Then she had joined Wusang and fought against him, using money and influence to snuff out the hope of innocent people. Maybe Vincenzo was right and people like them didn’t deserve love.

But she was greedy and entitled and others might see that as a flaw but she didn’t care, she wanted this and she deserved it.

“Because I want you to stay.”

There’s no taking it back, the truth is now out there suspended between them and she can hear his gasp on the other line, she’s caught him off guard. Hell, he’s not the only one but she has already shot herself in the foot so there’s no turning back now.

She’s all in.

“I like you.” That’s a lie, the feelings she has for him have mowed past “like” a long time ago and are dangerously close to another L word she’s too chicken shit to admit to him or herself, she has some sense of self preservation and despite those lips devouring her own and stealing any doubts she had about his reciprocation of her feelings, she knows that he is scared of this and he could push her away in some blindsided decision to keep her safe.

“Wh--what?” He stutters out dumbfounded and far less eloquent than the smooth mafia member she has come to know.

It makes her smile softly, she feels honored to get to see this side of him. A side that he only shows to her.

“I’m happy that you came to Korea and that we met. That you met my father and for a little while you were on his side. That you accepted me after everything and that you have never judged me. Meeting you as been the best luck I’ve ever stumbled on, Vincenzo Cassano.”

The silence is deafening and she vaguely wonders if he has hung up too overwhelmed with her sudden confession and fleeing instead but the screen still says his name, “Corn Salad” when she pulls it back to peer at the screen.

“I know you don’t think you belong here in Korea, you don’t think it’s your home. But I’m learning that home doesn’t have to be a place, it can be people too and the feeling you get around them. You showed me that.” Her heart is thundering now but she feels relieved to say this out loud too, if anything were to happen to either one of them it would break her if he never knew how she felt, what he meant to her.

“Me? I showed you that?” He whispers stunned and she can hear the soft rustle of him sitting down, had she made him weak in the knees? She can only hope so.

“Yes. I have lived here my whole life but I never felt as seen or accepted until I met you. You feel like home.”

“Cha-young ah.”

She waits to see if there will be more but that’s all he says, her name like it’s a sermon. It’s the first time he has called her by her first name despite how close they’ve grown in the past months. It sounds like music to her ears, not that opera noise he’s always listening to despite her complaining-loudly- each time she comes over but real music, the kind you would put on during those summer days where you let your hair whip in the breeze. The kind that remains in your heart even after summer has long ended and fall creeps around the corner with a cool entrance.

“I’m happy you’re here and I want this to be your home now. I don’t want you to run away, we both want you to stay.”

His breath is erratic over the line, even more so than when she had found him injured in the underpass. She lets him process her words giving him time that nobody else has ever received from her in the past, with him she wants to be someone who can be patient, he is worth the wait.

“Why are you telling me all this? Why now?” He pleads sounding tortured and when he sniffles she wants nothing more than to reach through the phone and wrap him up in her arms, he sounds so young and confused.

“I don’t want to have any regrets. Not with you.” She answers honestly, the letter staring at her from the table words catching her eyes.

“I can’t let him know how much he means to me. I know it is not my place to ask this but please love him dearly and let him know he is important and needed everyday. Letting him go was my biggest regret, I hope you will be stronger than I was.”

Like she had a choice anyway, she had told herself many times that she shouldn’t have feelings for him but every time she saw him smile or watched him torture someone to get them closer to taking down Babel all of her logic went out the window and she couldn’t help but imagine a life for them after this was all over. Korea, Italy, Malta, it didn't matter where they went as long as they were together. She had no intention of letting him go, not without a fight.

If that made her a villian so be it, he had been the one to train her how to be one in the first place.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know how I feel about you. I’m sorry if I kept you up.”

A long pause follows her apology and with a sigh she goes to end the call, he hadn’t outright rejected her and that was more than she had been expecting. She would regroup and make a thorough presentation of why they belonged together and why exactly he should either stay in Korea or let her go with him after they defeated those corrupt scumbags.

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” He admits, forgetting his earlier denial of this very fact.

“Are you drinking the tea?”

“Yes, I am. You left so many of them here. I told you I’m not a tea drinker.” He states contrary with the loud slurping she hears over the phone.

If she were anyone else his seeming dismissal through ignoring her confession would be heart breaking but she knows him too well now, is too aware of the dark inner workings of his mind and much he is overthinking every word she has uttered and cataloguing every reason that they shouldn’t be together, her safety is most likely top of the list. Old habits die hard and regardless of her constantly telling him that they should face everything together, she knows that there is still a lot that he hides from her in a guise of protecting her. His story about a nail pulling his suit plays out in her head.

“Tea is best for insomnia. Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up first, staring at the picture she had sneakily taken of him when he had been distracted in the office. It had been a long day and he had abandoned his jacket and loosened his tie, a sign that the day had taken its toll on him. She didn’t know what came over her but she found herself picking up her phone and snapping a picture of his side profile, he looked so handsome. When he had looked up and seen her on the phone, she pretended to be texting someone and walked away, her heart racing until he shrugged and looked away.

“I won’t give up on you Vincenzo Cassano.” She promises, putting the letter back into the envelope and making her way to the bathroom to complete her nightly routines.

Face scrubbed and teeth brushed to minty perfection, she walks across the moonlit room tugging down the sheets and crawling in, being so open and honest had been emotionally exhausting.

The things she did for him.

Getting comfortable in her bed she reaches out to plug in her phone to charge, but the tiny envelope icon on her phone catches her attention, she must have received a message while she was in the bathroom. Curious, she swipes her phone open before clicking on the message, she tells herself not to be too hopeful it’s probably not him and she’s going to be disappointed when it’s just a telemarketer trying to get her to switch tv providers.

“Oh,” She stares at the message, the light from the phone the sole source of illumination in the dark room besides the moon glowing through her curtains. She has no words, no thoughts either all she can do is feel and even that is difficult with too many varying emotions raging war in her body. She had tried her damnest not to expect anything, knew that he wasn’t ready to face his feelings and he might never be able to say how he felt about her, his actions would have to be enough. She would have accepted it as enough, having him was more than enough.

But as the message stares up at her, she realizes she had been lying to herself when the wave of unfiltered joy that crashes over her washes away her sandcastles of lies.

You are already my home.

It’s not the passionate confessions that are glorified in dramas, there’s no rain or dramatic slowing down of time, he hasn’t even said those coveted three oh so special words; on the surface he has barely said anything at all but to her his words are a blanket on a cold wintery day, she has only ever wanted someone to stay and now she has found that.

Loving him feels like coming home.

#vincenzo #hong cha young #vincenzo cassano #CCFC2021 #chayenzo #chayenzo living rent free in my mind #soft hours

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gallifreyanwriter · 2 years

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Pride and Prejudicenatural: It's the Great Pumpkin, Jane Bennet

Thee bench scene, but with Elizabeth and Darcy. Welcome to another installment of Sp&pn.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Darciel materialize on the other bench.

“Mister Darcy,” Elizabeth greeted coldly, staring ahead, “Have you come to lord over me your…‘superior judgement?’”

“No,” Darciel said, shaking his head.

“Good,” she nodded, “Because I have no desire to hear such a thing, especially coming from you.”

“I did not come here to pass judgement on you, Miss Bennet,” Darciel said, turning toward her, “Quite the contrary, in fact.”

“Then, pray tell, why did you come here?” asked Elizabeth.

Darciel didn’t answer, right away. He paused, looking out at the children playing in the field.

“Our orders-” he began, but Elizabeth cut him off, something hot swelling in her chest.

“Your orders have caused nothing but strife and destruction, to the very people you claim to protect-” she hissed.

“Our orders,” Darciel said, louder, “Were not to stop the summoning. They were…to follow your lead.”

Elizabeth sat back, the fight taken out of her in favor of confusion.

“Your orders,” she said slowly, “Were to…follow mine?”

Darciel nodded.

“This was a test,” he said, “We were meant to observe how you behaved under…the pressure of battlefield conditions.”

“Battlefield?” Elizabeth scoffed, “Why, this was the matter of a single witch, the likes of which my sister and I have fought a dozen times before. it was no…Battle of Agincourt.”

Darciel smiled, seemingly at his own private joke, but did not say a word.

“So, I have failed your test,” Elizabeth said, shrugging her shoulders, “This is not the first time, nor the last time, that I have done wrong in the eyes of Heaven. But I tell you, Mister Darcy, that if you turned the hands of time back to yesterday, I would not change even the smallest aspect of my decision–for my priority is to save who I can, despite my lack of knowledge of the future, and what the broken seals will bring. This town has people in it, who would be slaughtered for the crime of living their lives, whose children, would be dead and buried, without the actions that my sister and I took here today, and I will not be made to regret those actions by any arbiter, Heavenly or otherwise!”

Darciel patiently waited for her to be done.

“You have…misunderstood,” he said carefully, “It was my deepest hope, and wish, that you would save the town.”

Elizabeth was taken aback by that, but tried her best not to show it. She set her jaw, and responded with a lightly interested “Oh?”

Darciel sighed.

“These people are all my father’s creations,” he said, staring out at the playing children, “Each one of them, a work of art. And yet, even though you stopped Samhain from wreaking havoc upon them, that does not change the fact that the seal was broken. Inch by inch, step by step, we creep closer and closer to Hell on earth for all living things, and I do not mean that in any sort of metaphorical sense, but painfully literal. I know that you, Miss Bennet, of all people, can…appreciate what that means, in excruciating detail.”

Elizabeth stayed silent, eyes still warily fixed upon the angel on the other bench.

“If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell another soul?”

His words came feather-light, in the distance between them.

“I can keep anything in confidence,” Elizabeth said cautiously, from her position on the bench.

“I am no ‘hammer’, as you so eloquently put before,” Darcy said, clasping his hands together, “I do have questions, I…I have doubts.”

He was slumped forward on the bench, his bowed spine and raised shoulders carrying a tension that Elizabeth had never seen in him before.

“In these trying times, I often do not know what is right, or what is wrong, anymore,” muttered Darcy, eyes firmly on the ground in front of him, “I do not know whether you have passed this test, or failed, in this place.”

Elizabeth absorbed his words silently.

“But in the coming months,” he continued, tone almost apologetic, “You will have more such decisions, to make.”

He turned his head, and looked directly into her eyes.

“I do not envy the weight that is on your shoulders, Elizabeth,” he said, his eyes earnest, “And that is God’s honest truth.”

#supernatural #spn #pride and prejudice #destiel scenes with elizabeth and darcy #spnpn

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2dmenenthusiast · 3 years

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Warmth - a Bakugou x Reader Christmas special

its finally done hhhhhh I love how I was just like “Oh yeah I’ll do a short little fic for Christmas” and then I ended up typing this long ass fic. I mean, its not that long but it took me days to write cuz I lack motivation always so it feels long lmao. Anyways, haven’t wrote for my explodey boy bakugou yet so here it is! Let me know if I gave the reader any specific pronouns or features by accident and I’ll fix it right away! I hope you all enjoy! Please feel free to reblog if you wanna give my fic more exposure, I'd really appreciate it 😚

Summary: You get caught in the middle of a snowstorm, and when you get home, you’re desperately craving the warmth of your exploding, ragey boyfriend.

Word count: 3.3K

Warnings/other info: swearing, itty bitty reference to sexy times, spoiler for Bakugou’s hero name, just a lot of fluff (you guys are so mean to each other tho lmao)

You hated winter. Actually, scratch that. Let’s rephrase. You hate snow. No, you had nothing against the actual season. Winter brought you cute Christmas movies and catchy songs, as well as the gift-giving holiday itself. However, snow was a demon, and it could fuck right off. Especially when it was blowing directly into your face like it was now, your snow-covered boots trudging through the thick snow as you held grocery bags in each of your gloved hands. Even though you were wearing a thick winter coat and hat, and had your scarf covering half of your face, you felt like you were about to shiver out of your own skin and god you could barely fucking see with all of this snow going directly into your eyes.

“‘It’s right down the street, y/n, just walk there.’ What am I, fucking stupid?” you muttered.

You had figured it would be better to just walk to the store rather than using up gas or spending money on transportation, and fuck were you dumb for making that decision. Bakugou had warned you too, taking one look outside and telling you it would be better to just go get groceries tomorrow. But noooo, you just had to get it done today. And honestly, it looked like the roads were gonna be shitty for the next few days, so better now than later. Speaking of the roads, there were barely any cars driving on them, which was expected. The plow didn’t look like it had come through yet. However, a vehicle slowly came towards you, going under the speed limit to avoid sliding on the road, and you could hear The Christmas Song playing loudly from inside as it passed. Chestnuts roasting on an open fire? Yeah, the only thing going to be roasting on an open fire was your ass the second you walked through the door. And by an open fire, you meant the heater, which Bakugou better have on full fucking blast, or else you swore you were going to wring his neck.

As your apartment building became closer in view, you doubled your efforts and tried to speed up your pace, but the snow made it almost impossible when it was almost past your shins. Still, you grit your teeth and pushed through, letting out a relieved groan when you walked through the front door of your building and felt heat blast you in the face. Releasing a sigh, your grip tightening on the grocery bags as you traversed up the stairs to your apartment, and when you jammed your keys in the lock and pushed through the door, it was just as you suspected. Too fucking cold.

“He’s dead. He’s a dead man. He knew I was going out in the fucking arctic tundra that is the city right now, but he chose to keep the thermostat at fucking 70 degrees?!” you thought, grumbling to yourself as you set the bags down in the kitchen and marched over to the thermostat.

“Hey, take your fucking boots off, will you? You’re tracking snow.”

You raised your middle finger in the direction the voice came from, not even looking back

at your boyfriend as you turned the dial of the thermostat and watched the numbers go up until you were satisfied. Turning to look at Bakugou with a glare, you said something that he could tell was filled with frustration and anger, but he could barely hear you when you were talking through your scarf, raising an eyebrow as if to silently say, “what the fuck are you saying?” Rolling your eyes, you toed off your boots and hung up your coat, taking off your gloves and hat next before unwrapping your scarf from around your face and neck.

“I said you’re a fucking maniac. How are you not freezing?” you asked, hurrying past Bakugou to your shared bedroom so that you could change into something warmer.

Bakugou just scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched you change. “You remember what my quirk is, right?”

Slipping one of Bakugou’s large hoodies over your head, you let out a sigh. “Oh right, I forgot that along with the ability to blow shit up, you’re also a walking heat box,” you said, throwing the hood over your head as you turned to your boyfriend with a small pout.

He just looked at you with an amused smirk, a single eyebrow quirked as he looked you up and down. He had to admit, he’d never get tired of seeing you in his clothes. Though he quickly became worried when a mischievous grin appeared on your face, and he had no time to react when you were running forward and slipping your hands underneath his shirt, wrapping your arms around his bare torso.

“Gah! Shit, you’re fucking freezing!” he yelled, trying to push you off of him, but you just tightened your hold as you buried your face in his chest. “Hey! Don’t you get comfy, get the hell off of me.”

“But you’re so waaarm,” you whined, looking up at him with cute puppy dog eyes. You weren’t lying, he was very warm, and you’d be damned if you pulled away from him anytime soon.

Letting out a growl through clenched teeth, Bakugou gripped your thighs in his hands and suddenly lifted you, and you let out a noise of surprise, not expecting your feet to come off the ground as your legs automatically wrapped around him so that you wouldn’t fall. Carrying you back into the living room, he threw you on the couch and pinned you with a glare when you tried to move, not walking away until he was certain you wouldn’t get up from that couch. Once he turned his back to you, you sat up on your knees and looked over the back of the couch as Bakugou walked into the kitchen, bending over the reach into one of the bags, and holy fuck his ass in those sweatpants was downright fucking sinful. As the cool kids would say, he was, “double cheeked up on a Thursday afternoon.”

“It’s Saturday, and stop staring at my ass, you damn perv,” Bakugou grumbled without looking back at you, and you pursed your lips as you raised your hands in surrender.

“Not my fault you’re so dummy thicc.”

“For the love of god, stop watching TikTok.”

You just laughed and stood from the couch, walking into the kitchen and leaning against the counter as you watched your boyfriend put the groceries away. “You don’t have to do that, you know. I can put them away.”

“Nonsense. You were just out freezing your ass off in the snow. Now get back on that couch before I throw you on it again,” he said.

You smiled at the kind gesture. While Bakugou was often rude and uncouth, not making an effort to hide his frustration or disdain for certain people or things, there was a soft spot deep down in there, and you were lucky enough to be one of the few people he showed it too. Of course, it was hardly willingly. You were persistent as hell, getting under his skin the moment you started going to UA with him. However, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like your persistence.

Letting out a small hum to yourself, you leaned over and pressed your lips against his cheek, his skin warming up under your touch. “You’re cute.”

A light pink dusted his cheeks as you walked back to the couch and plopped down onto the soft cushions, grabbing the fluffy blanket hanging over the back and draping it around your shoulders. No, if anyone in this relationship was cute, it was you. With the way you stole his clothes and just seemed to always make them look better, or made him his bento lunch with cute little notes inside that he secretly kept in his desk and would look at whenever he needed a little pick-me-up. You probably didn’t realize how much he noticed every little thing you did, but he did, and it made him fall more in love with you every day. Of course, he wasn’t very eloquent and it was hard for him to express how he felt with words, but he was a believer in how actions spoke louder.

“Hey, dipstick! You almost done? I’m about to freeze my ass off over here and I need my cuddle buddy,” you yelled from the living room, and Bakugou’s eyebrow twitched as he scoffed, running a hand over his face. You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?

“Yeah, yeah, wait a sec, would you? Not my fault your body can’t regulate temperature like a normal fucking human being.”

Your head popped up, looking over the couch at your boyfriend with an incredulous look on your face. “‘Normal?!’ What about you is normal, Mr. I-get-unnecessarily-ragey-and-blow-shit-up? Hm?”

“Oh and you think you’re so normal when you bought fucking ice cream in the middle of goddamn winter,” he said, holding up the tub of ice cream you recently bought on your trip to the store.

“Ice cream is good for any time of the year! And you have no room to judge me. It could be a hundred degrees out and you’ll be scarfing down a bowl of spicy ramen like it’s your last meal.”

“You don’t hear me complaining about it though, do you?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you pouted. “Jerk. you know, I hope your quirk just one day combusts and you blow up your own face.”

“Fuckface.”

“Asshole.”

“Dumbass.”

“Mama’s boy.”

Eyes widening, he dropped the last grocery bag on the floor and stomped over to the couch. If you were any normal person, you probably would’ve been cowering in fear just from the pro-heroes intense stair. But you had been with Bakugou for a while now, and what “normal” person would date someone whose first draft of their hero name was Lord Explosion Murder anyway? He placed his hands on the top of the couch, looking down at you as you stared up at him with a shit-eating grin on your face.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“Oh, I think you heard me.”

“Take it back or I’m blowing up all of your Deku shirts.”

You gasped dramatically, placing both of your hands over your heart as you gaped at your boyfriend before narrowing your eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

He didn’t say anything, simply raising an eyebrow at your challenge before walking towards your shared bedroom without another word. Oh. Oh, he was being serious. Scrambling off the couch, you ran after him.

“No! Nononono, wait. Ugh, All right!”

He turned to look at you, one of your shirts of the Pro hero Deku held tight in his fist and a smirk on his face that meant trouble. You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at the nearby wall, not wanting to see that stupid little grin on his stupid face.

“You… You’re- not a mama’s boy,” you muttered under your breath, coughing to make the words more unintelligible.

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I think I feel my hand warming up a bit.”

“Ugh, fine! You’re not a mama’s boy. Happy?”

Grin widening, he dropped the shirt and walked over to you in long strides, closing the distance quickly and placing his hands on your waist. “See? Was that so hard?”

“Absolutely teeth-pulling,” you said, dropping your head on his chest as he chuckled, bringing a hand up to gently pat your head. Of course, there wasn’t a lot about you two that was so different from each other. You both had a mutual hatred for backing down. He then looked over at the bed where the green-haired hero’s smiling face stared back at him, and he scowled.

“Why do you have so many shirts of that damn nerd anyway?”

“I don’t have that many, Katsu.”

“You have like ten. You don’t have any merch of me.” His grip on you tightened possessively, and if he wasn’t aware of it, you certainly were, smiling against his chest before lifting your head.

“Why would I need merch when I have the real life thing right here?” you asked, poking at his abs. “Besides, it’s not like I bought them. They were gifts whenever he had new designs come out.”

“And you couldn’t just refuse?”

“Even if you have some weird tension with him, that doesn’t mean I can’t be friends with him, dummy.” You lightly flicked his forehead and slipped out of his grasp as you walked back out to the living room, and he followed close behind with furrowed brows.

“Weird tension? The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You just looked at him with raised eyebrows and shrugged, dropping down onto the couch before pulling out your phone. It took him a second to understand what you were getting at, and when he did, he wanted to vomit up his lunch.

“Oh, you’re sick.”

You threw your hands up. “I’m not saying I ship it! Your Twitter followers certainly do, though.”

“Yeah well, they’re all weirdos anyway,” he said, sitting down next to you and throwing an arm around your shoulders, and you immediately relaxed into him, content with the warmth he seemed to produce 24/7. “The only person I wanna be…” he grimaced, shaking his head, “shipped with is you.”

You smiled, looking up at Bakugou as you placed your hand on his chest. “I think people would if we didn’t constantly insult each other while we’re out in public. And you know, if you were actually affectionate with me.”

“I’m affectionate!” he yelled, arm tightening around you. “Those damn extras don’t need to see that shit anyway. Not like it’s any of their business.”

You chuckled and moved to straddle Bakugou’s thighs, hands taking their time as you dragged them up his muscular torso and splayed your fingers over his chest. You admired the man below you with a small smile on your face, his hands moving so that they rested on your thighs, giving them a small squeeze, and you watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip as he seemed to look at you with that same red-eyed intense stare that he always did. Leaning down, you placed a slow kiss against his lips but pulled away before he could deepen it, and he chased your lips with a quiet growl as you let out an amused huff.

“Would you…” You could tell he was hesitant, never knowing how to properly express what he wanted to say, especially when he was feeling vulnerable. You placed your lips against his cheek, gently holding his face in your hands to try and reassure him. “Would you like me to be more affectionate in public? Would that… make you happy?”

Brows furrowing, your lips formed into a frown as you sat back, hands slipping into his. “Katsu… we’ve been together since our high school days. If I had any complaints, wouldn’t I have voiced them by now?” He opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance to respond, grabbing his face again. “Listen to me for a second. Despite what people think about your rough edges and your unpleasant attitude-”

“Watch it.”

You smiled. “I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. Your random outbursts, your sailor mouth, your shitty nicknames for all of our friends. Those things are what make you Bakugou Katsuki. Not some shitty tabloid with that stupid headline that’s like “Ten things to know about Pro Hero Dynamight!” or whatever. They’re all bullshit. No one sees the side of you that I get to. No one sees the big softie that you really are.” You lightly poked Bakugou’s chest with a giggle, and he swatted at your hand.

“Hey, I’m not soft, you dumbass,” he grumbled, and you just laughed as you leaned into him and wrapped your arms around his neck, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

You heard him sigh and felt his arms wrap around you, happy in his strong embrace. There was nowhere you felt safer than in Bakugou’s arms. They were always there to hold you at night, or to pull you into a hug when you were feeling upset. You loved his arms, but you loved him in general. Everything about him always had butterflies fluttering around in your stomach. When he would gaze at you like you were the only other person in the world, or when he’d come home after a particularly rough day, and you’d offer to help him relieve some stress, but he’d insist that the only thing on his mind at the moment was you underneath him while he memorized and tasted every inch of you. Yeah, you were a love-struck idiot, but so was he. Maybe even more so.

You were brought out of your thoughts when the lights started to flicker before going out, and you waited a few seconds for them to come back on, but they never did. Are you fucking kidding me?

“Um… Katsuki?”

“Hm.”

“Please tell me our power didn’t just go out.”

“Our power didn’t go out.”

You smacked his chest. “Don’t be a smartass.”

“Then don’t say stupid shit.”

You let out a groan before whining out his name, and he sighed as he lifted you off of him and walked into the kitchen to grab his phone. It was like you could already feel the cold seeping back into the apartment through the cracks in the doors and windows, and you shivered as you grabbed the blanket from before and wrapped it around your body. Bakugou then came back into the living room, letting out a sigh and tossing his phone onto the couch.

“Some idiot driving in this shit-storm hit a pole and took down a transformer. Power won’t be back until the morning.”

Great. Just magnificent. Who the fuck decides to drive in a snowstorm? Letting out a huff, you stood and went to the kitchen to find a lighter before lighting every candle you two had, hoping they would provide enough light for the night. After making sure at least one candle was in every room, you went back to find Bakugou gathering all the blankets he could and raised an eyebrow.

“What? We both know our comforter won’t be enough to warm your shivering ass.”

“But I have you, don’t I? My personal heater,” you said, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet as you smiled.

Bakugou scoffed. “Yeah, can’t wait for you to suck all the heat out of me.”

“Oh piss off. You love my cuddles.”

Before he could give you another snarky remark, you turned on your heel and walked to your bedroom, pulling back the covers and immediately tucking yourself underneath them. But of course, it wasn’t warm enough. When Bakugou walked into the room, you stuck a hand out from under the blanket and made a grabbing motion, and he just chuckled at you before throwing an extra blanket on top of you and climbing underneath the covers to lay next to you. You immediately sought him out, desperate for his warmth as you wrapped yourself around him and nuzzled into his chest, and his arms looped around you as he tangled your legs together.

“Christ, you’re fucking freezing,” he grumbled.

“Shut up and hold me tighter,” you said voice muffled as you spoke into his chest, and he did as you asked, his arms tightening around you as you let out a content sigh.

Relaxing in the silence, you felt yourself begin to grow more tired with each second that passed, and your boyfriend seemed to relax as well, which was rare for him. You both were perfectly content, dozing off in each other’s embrace.

“... So should I get a mistletoe for the apartment?”

“Dear god, shut the fuck up and go to sleep.”

#bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha imagine #bnha imagine #mha x reader #katsuki bakugou #dynamight #bakugou fluff #mha christmas #mha fanfic #bakugo x reader

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so-i-dont-forget-again · 3 years

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So I Don’t Forget Again: A Breath of The Wild fanfiction

Entry 208: Zora’s Domain

Sidon made me breakfast. He made things I had taught him to make back at Hateno, he had to wake up very early to get the ingredients on time. He tried to hide it, but I could see he was a little sleepy through the whole day, he’s had such little rest. I really appreciate this, him just focusing on me, almost like there’s nothing else, but I don’t want him to push himself. Though I want to thank him all the same. He just makes me feel so special and safe, in a way unlike anything else, I guess. I feel like he really sees me, like he truly wants me. I don’t know how to describe this, but I want to. I want to pour these feelings into these pages, have him read this so he can know just how much he means to me, how he’s an irreplaceable part of my life, how he

I just want him to know as amazing as he finds me, I find him to be just the same. He’s much more eloquent with words than me, so maybe he’d know how to write this, but I want to at least try, even if this is just kinda incoherent thoughts by now.

We went to market, it’s a bit away from town, but that’s because it’s more of a trading area so Hylians and Gorons and others can get there easier than going through the canyon to the town. We did some shopping but we heard a lot of rumors. A new hero appearing, one who couldn’t be the reincarnated one. A hero who did not wield the blade of evil’s bane but a trident, instead of working in service of the princesses, or royalty, or goddess they worked for the people, a blond gender ambiguous Hylian who slew a massive, fearsome beast all to get ingredients for a medicine for a gerudo woman’s sick husband they didn’t even know, a person who helped the descendants of the champions calm all the Divine Beasts soon after their rampages began, a person who is a brother to the strong gorons, a person who had begun to teach others how to fend for themselves, on and on it went, even false or exaggerated tales. They were all about one simple person who served the people for their sake and nothing else. This person was not grand or flashy, they were only recognized since tridents are an uncommon weapon and even more uncommon for hylians outside of the royal family to be blond, two odd, eye catching characteristics and people made the connections from there. Sidon told me it just seemed fitting that the “Hero of the People” would wish to use all his peoples’ fighting styles, a person who was strong with all their power, their best qualities united.

I guess it is fitting. Before being the chosen hero or whatever felt like a burden, but this time, it felt different, it didn’t feel bad, like there’s this cumbersome weight I just can’t carry. I’m being called a hero for things I have done already, not things I’m expected to do, I think that’s the difference. I think Sidon could tell too. He admitted he was a little nervous about this, but if I did react badly, he wanted to be beside me so he could comfort me and not have me over hear this some other place far away and for my thoughts to go dark again. And we had the whole day to be together so we could do something fun to get my mind off it.

We had a lovely walk back. Bossa Nova kept trying to steal some of the ingredients we ended up running part of the way as he chased us. He even tried nibbling on my hair to get my attention. Sidon tried scolding him, but Bossa Nova didn’t care. After gifting a Hearty Radish he calmed down, but Sidon said I shouldn’t spoil him, that he’ll just take advantage of that and eat through all my non-meat supplies sooner or later. But then he just looked at me for a moment, smiled and shook his head before turning back to the trail ahead. When I asked him what that meant he told me he couldn’t find my behavior endearing and that I need to learn how to say ‘no’ sometimes. I guess he is a prince, he has to make decisions for his people, and he’ll likely have to say ‘no’ sometimes, but how can you say no to a cute hungry capybara! Besides I don’t think he would have stopped trying to knock us over till he was fed so I don’t think it could have been THAT bad. Just a treat. He’s a good boy, he needs the love. Sidon then gasped and said this must be why Bossa Nova likes me more now. It was clear he was play acting, playing up the moment but his reaction did get Bossa Nova to charge at him and knock him into the river for hugs. Much of the fruit started floating down river and it took a while to collect it all.

We cooked lunch together, a fusion between Rito and Zora cuisine. I always love cooking with him, well I just like cooking, but especially with him. Food reflects it’s culture and traditions, cooking is literally making something to help the other keep living and making it enjoyable all the while. I don’t think I need food, not anymore at least, but I can still enjoy it, making it and tasting it with others. Eating and cooking with others feels different than on your own, it only makes sense, food reflects people and so more people would surely make it taste better. All this to say I just really enjoyed lunch. And Bossa Nova still ate his meal so giving him his treat was not spoiling him! He didn’t eat his whole thing though, but that’s not the point! He still ate it… I guess it’s because I don’t get hungry I don’t see the point in having scheduled meals. Sidon said that was not the point, the point being Bossa Nova acting bratty to get whatever he wants. But could it be so bad, all he ever wants is food or extra affection.

Sidon asked if I knew how long I can hold my breath for. Much of his kingdom is underwater and he wanted to show more of it to me. Zoras really are made for the water, even the shape of their heads are kind of like arrows so they can effortlessly pierce through it. I know fish need fins to swim, I wonder how fins help Zora swim. They’re just stunning racing past, or at least Sidon is. Even with my complete zora armor set swimming can be a struggle but for him it’s effortless, he can go in circles and make twists and turns so quickly. Light seems much starker underwater, either bright or dark, I notice his glowy parts much more, I still can’t tell if they’re always glowing or if the glow activates when he’s in shade.

His home underwater looks similarish to land with similar plants, but there are also very different ones I don’t even know where to begin describing them. Some are kind of like flat dishes and others more spindly, then there are others that are wrinkly, I’ve never seen plants like those in the rivers before. There are some like stone, Sidon says they’re called coral and are plants oddly enough. Many of these only grow in the domain, but there are similar ones in the ocean. I wondered if any could be used in cooking, as they are plants zoras have never tried and Sidon was rather keen on assisting me if I tried working with them.

His kingdom underwater is so much larger than on the surface. Sidon and his people could so easily be separated from the rest of the world and be just fine. Their most important places like the throne room are on the surface so others can more easily reach them. That is something he’s always had been so appreciative of his ancestors for doing. His people, they’ve always been distant from the rest of Hyrule whether they lived solely underwater or some place out of reach or hidden away, of all times this current era is likely the closest they have been to others even with being separated by a distant canyon still. He doesn��t like this distance, even if it is better than before. After the champions fell and the hylians had no leader, everyone mostly went their own ways and more of a divide was created between everyone, sure there’s trade and the mail service but other than that, nothing, no alliance promises or at least documents stating they were at peace with one another, there’s nothing except for the few individuals who sought out pay from others, that’s why he finds what I’m doing to be so incredible. This legend I’m making just by being myself, becoming something or someone everyone can connect too or want to strive for. A kind of hero he could only have dreamed of. I told him I can’t do anything like uniting everyone, I’ve just lived with them and gotten to know them, he however, someone who knows how to lead others, someone who can understand and relate to others so easily or through his sheer determination, his hunger to know others better, wanting those connections, he could become someone who could lead and unite hyrule. He told me uniting hyrule again was going to be a monumental task, surely one he could not handle on his own, he’d definitely need someone who’s on good terms with everyone, and more importantly a partner by his side, someone he could lean on during the rough days, someone who could emotionally support him and just be by his side, just someone precious to him to keep close.

How tenderly he held my hands and stroked them with his thumbs, and just that way he looked at me. I don’t know what I was feeling but it was so warm, and soft, and like my chest was fluttering. Just… how he wants me, not just for what I can do, he just wants me. He wants me to be there because he just wants to share his life with me, I just happen to get some additional satisfaction since I know I get to help, but even if I couldn’t I KNOW he’d want me to be there with him and it just…

It means so much to me.

Today was just so nice.

After leading me to my room he collapsed on the bed. I don’t know about him, but I know swimming definitely takes a lot of energy and he was already working with little sleep, at least this way I know for certain he’s getting rest. I hope nobody comes here looking for him. For now, I guess I should get some sleep myself.

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knightmareaceblue · 3 years

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Last Chapter

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AO3

Snap. Fwish.

Snap. Fizz.

Snap. Fwish.

Snap. Fizz.

“Mister Price,” Chara, ever polite and practical, turned away from their spot at the head of the otherwise silent group to stare at Rupert, who trailed behind the group, playing with his new powers by creating and extinguishing flames with a snap of his fingers. “While I appreciate that magic is very new to you and very, very cool… could you please STOP THAT?!”

For a moment, Rupert froze, not at all acknowledging the ghost who was now hovering over his shoulder, focusing on the glowing orange flame dancing on the tips of his fingers. Then he dispelled the flame and put his hands in his pockets. “Sorry. Didn’t mean ta bug anyone.”

Despite the fire of fury he’d had in his eyes throughout the entire fight, Rupert’s voice sounded weak and fragile, like a weak candle about to be snuffed out by the winter winds. The look in his eyes was almost broken, and it wasn’t hard to see why.

Then he looked over at Henry, who had slowed his pace to match theirs. “Hey, ya think Dave saw that cool fire stuff I was doing?”

Henry found himself smiling sadly. The constant exposure to Charles’ raw KINDNESS must have had a bigger effect on him than he’d thought, if Rupert Goddamned Price was having this sort of effect on him. “I’m sure-”

“Probably not.” Chara interrupted nonchalantly, floating on their back like they were lounging in the ocean. “If our opponent knew enough about souls to take his soul without killing his body, then its probable that Dave’s soul was kept in a sleeping state to prevent him from fighting back. That means he probably didn’t even know you were there.”

Never had Henry seen a person deflate so quickly. Rupert adjusted the gray cap on his head, quickly muttered an apology, and walked a little faster, pushing past weird Headphones Guy and causing the Toppat leader to sway momentarily before managing to right himself.

“Uh, rude much?” The Headphone Guy called after him. He then turned to his boss. “Why are we bringing these stooges with us again?”

“Somethin’ ‘appened at the Government Base. Something Sven was involved in. Whatever the ‘ell that kid got ‘imself into, we need all the info we can get.” The Leader glared with sunken eyes back at them, and then sneered, his dark red mustache twitching with the force of his scowl. “Even if it means putting up with these assholes.”

With his PATIENCE, Henry could see he had many options before him. But screw those options, because Henry already knew he was done with Chara’s nonsense.

He slowed his pace, grasped at Chara’s semi-solid arm with one hand, and asked in a hissed whisper, “Is he not miserable enough for you or something? Dude just got so upset he literally caught fire. Cut him some slack.”

Chara’s face was distinctly unimpressed. “Weren’t you mad at him for almost killing Charles that one time?”

To this, Henry kind of rolled his eyes. Chara was eloquent, sure, but they were still a child at the end of the day: naive, unable to consider the world outside of the little context they had. They had more context than most children, granted, but they were still very limited. “I was. Then he apologized the next morning, and I was still mad. Then all this crazy nonsense went down, and I decided to forgive him.” The decision had actually been as recent as last night. Henry’s KINDNESS wasn’t much… it paled in comparison to the green glow that Charles put out, but if anyone could empathize with the gnawing guilt that came with failing to protect someone you love, it was definitely the man who’d spent the last few days trying to wake the dead.

“Oi, dickweeds!” The Toppat Leader called from the front of their little pack. “We’re ‘ere.”

‘Here’, as it turned out, was a box-shaped metal building standing just above a lava pit with the word ‘Lab’ printed in large bold letters on the side. “This must be where Doctor Alphys used to live.” Henry mused aloud, then grinned. “I wonder what kind of dirt I can dig up on her.”

“She saved yer life and ya want ta blackmail ‘er?” Rupert gave him kind of a funny look, having been shocked out of his depressed state by Henry’s words.

To that, Henry looped an arm around his shoulder. “Not blackmail. Friendly snooping. It’s the easiest way to get to know a person.” Henry winked playfully at the soldier.“Once, when I was in prison, Dave asked me how to get to know you, and that’s the advice I gave him.”

“Wait, that’s the reason he went through my phone that one time?!” Rupert stared at Henry for a hot minute before apparently deciding he was more exasperated than angry, sighing and pushing Henry away to enter the lab. He called back over his shoulder, “You’re an arse, Stickmin.”

Henry snickered and followed behind him.

The light mood didn’t last too long, however. Once inside, Henry only had a moment to breathe before something sturdy and tight wrapped around both of his arms and hoisted him up. And if the hollering nearby was any indication, Rupert had been caught in the same trap, though not for long. Rupert broke free with an orange glow, and Henry, with his PATIENCE, knew that all it would take to escape the vines was just to twist his body the right way. Hardly graceful, but effective. Both men landed feet first on the floor, prepared to face whatever was in their way. And it was…

A flower.

A single, smiling flower in the center of the room. Grinning up at them with big doe eyes that might have been innocent, had it not just tried to tangle them up in a mess of green vines. Things only got weirder when it started talking to them. “Howdy!” It greeted pleasantly, as if they’d met on a Sunday stroll and not in a dimly lit abandoned lab. “It’s a real treat to have such delicious looking guests! You’re going to make excellent fertilizer-”

That was when the Toppats came through the door. Headphones Guy was grinning like a jackal, and the Leader, leaning a little too heavily against the door frame, sounded quite smug as he called out, “’At’s enough, Flower Boy. ‘Ey’re with us. For now.”

The flower immediately dropped the cheerful facade, staring stupidly at the tallest Toppat for quite some time before literally launching itself up out of the ground and hitting the man in the face, knocking him down to the ground. “You- Right Hand IDIOT! Do you have any idea how freaked out I was?! You started a stupid fight with these government dweebs, then all of the cameras got corrupted and I could see diddly squat, and now your suddenly ‘buddy-buddy’ with the guys who came here to-to arrest you?! Not to mention the weird stuff… with…”

Suddenly its voice trailed off. Its petals drooped like the ears of an angry cat, its eyes widening in shock. Henry followed its gaze, turning around to stare at the open door of the lab.

To stare at Chara, who floated their with a sharp-eyed glare and the kind of dangerous frown that he’d only seen on Mister Price during their Toppat missions.

For a long time, nobody spoke. Henry put together what he knew in this time; he knew this flower was likely Flowey, the reincarnated prince that Frisk had failed to SAVE. That would make it – no, him – the brother of Chara. Chara, who had spoken about Flowey like one spoke about the weeds choking their garden. Whatever tore them apart was currently an unknown, but it must have been pretty serious to invoke this kind of hate. Possibly concerning their deaths.

Henry narrowed his eyes and stepped back to observe.

“C-Chara…” Flowey breathed out, his voice brittle and soft.

“Flower.” Chara returned, their voice curt and bitter.

“But I… you’re dead.”

Chara put on a mock astonished expression, looking over their glowing red body as if just noticing what was wrong with this picture. “By god, you’re right! How have I not noticed?”

The Toppat Leader stood a little straighter, his eyes darting from the ghost to the flower, back and forth. “I take it ya know each other?”

“No.” Chara crossed their arms, their eyes never leaving Flowey. “I’ve seen this abomination from a safe distance, but we’re not acquainted.”

Immediately Flowey put on a face like a kicked puppy.

“Psst, ‘Enry.” At some point Rupert Price had sidled up to his side, drawing Henry’s attention away from the drama before him. “Check it out. See ‘at wall over ‘ere? I think ‘at’s the Toppat’s Chief leanin’ against it.”

“Seriously?” Henry whispered back, focusing his gaze on the wall in the background. Certainly enough, towards the back of the room and semi-hidden by a refrigerator, sat a figure cloaked entirely in the shadows. Why was he sitting in the shadows? Henry looked back at the nervous Flowey, at the unimpressed Chara, at the two Toppats who were watching the exchange like they were waiting for a bomb to go off – which, given what Henry knew about the two, was probably more true than they realized. Still, Chara’s cool anger and Flowey’s nervous chatter provided a decent distraction, and Henry silently made his way across the lab.

With everyone was preoccupied by Flowey and Chara’s blow up, Henry was able to approach the figure leaning against the refrigerator. Certainly enough, the familiar figure was the Toppat leader; missing that gaudy chain he wore (Why would anyone where that around their neck? It would look much better as decoration on his hat), but was still wearing those two hats for no real reason (Assertion of dominance, maybe?). But something was off; Henry noticed almost immediately, even in the darkness, how unnaturally still he was. He wasn’t dead, though. When Henry leaned closer to check, he found the man’s eyes opened, staring blankly ahead into nothing. They were as dull as stone, a still pool of unfeeling nothingness that caused something in Henry’s chest to tighten.

Jesus, now he was feeling sorry for Toppats? He had to find some sort of protection against Charles’ KINDNESS.

“Did tall, blonde, and creepy steal his soul, too?” Henry asked aloud, catching the attention of everyone nearby. The Toppat Leader immediately stiffened, seeing Henry so close to the Toppat Chief, but before he could respond Headphone Guy curtly called back to him.

“His name is SVEN, asshole.”

Henry opened his mouth to respond with something snappy and witty, but was interrupted by a low, pained groan coming from the man in front of him. The Chief didn’t move a muscle anywhere except his face, letting his lip fall just enough to allow the moan to fall from them, quiet but echoing through the empty, silent labs. Everyone stared.

Big, tall and ugly rushed forward, pushing Henry away roughly and examining the Chief guy carefully. “Wot the bloody ‘ell did ya do…?” He questioned.

“Oh! I was about to tell you!” Flowey poked his head out from between the tiles close by to Henry. “When the cameras went off, I started ranting to myself because I was freaking out, and I talked about Blue Boy. Except, you know, I didn’t say ‘Blue Boy’, I said ‘Sven’, and-” Another moan fell from the lips of the Toppat leader. “...that happened.”

Rupert came up beside Henry, sitting down near the white-haired man. “Did that blue-hat bastard do this, too?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

The Leader and the Headphones Guy exchanged a harsh look, before headphones guy turned to them and relented. “It’s… complicated. Chief Reginald’s in a delicate state right now. His soul-”

“’At’s enough, Curtis.” The Leader stood up and crossed his arms, his protective glare speaking volumes. “Reg’s state ain’t relevant to the current situation. First, we need to know what the bloody ‘ell Sven did down at the government camp.”

In response to the question, Rupert looked to the side, his guilt and anger reflected in his eyes. That left explaining the circumstances to Henry, who sighed out his annoyance. All he could think right now was that Charles would be doing a much better job at handling this batch of misfits then Henry was. “Okay, so right now, at the base of the mountain, all the monsters are currently staying in a government camp while the City Council figures out what to do with them.” A little kinder than Henry personally thought they deserved, but as that information wasn’t necessarily relevant, he left it as is and move on. “Yesterday, a human was found unconscious on the human side of the camp, with no soul. Naturally, the humans freaked out and jumped to conclusions, and the monsters are getting blamed for his soul being stolen. We came here to find the actual thief, which we thought was the flower, thanks to… an unreliable source.”

Henry side-eyed Chara, who rolled their eyes. God, this child was obnoxious.

Rupert continued for Henry. “That soul belonged to the dearest person in my life. ‘Is name is Dave, and I’m ashamed to admit I thought the monsters responsible, too. But it was obvious in hindsight.” Rupert struck them with a fiery glare, orange illuminating his pupils. “EVERY problem in ‘is life goes back to you Toppat bastards.”

Something like recognition lit up in this Curtis guy’s eyes. “Dave? As in Dave Panpa?”

“Rememberin’ the guy ya took prisoner fer no good reason?” The scowl on Rupert’s face spoke more about his feelings than the tone of his voice did.

Curtis nodded. “Yeah, I remember that guy. Nice dude, but super annoying. Seriously, I said hi to him once and he rambled at me for a whole hour-”

If Curtis wasn’t expecting a fireball to the face after saying that, then he was a bigger idiot than Henry thought. (Un)Fortunately, he was able to dodge.

BUT they needed more information on this Sven guy, so Henry reluctantly pulled on Rupert’s arm to draw his attention away from the scumbags. With his eyes, Henry tried to convey that they needed to keep the peace, at least for now. After a moment of eye contact, Rupert’s face relaxed by increments, and he reluctantly nodded his understanding. No fighting. At least for now.

For his part, the Toppat Leader didn’t look mad. He shook his head in disappointment and pointedly whispered to the other man. Judging from the sour look that fell upon his face, Henry guessed it was a formal reprimand, which he absolutely deserved.

Then the Toppat Leader turned to them. “Apologies. He’s…” The man stroked his chin, searching for the right answer, and eventually decided on, “...grieving. A lot’s ‘appened with us, as well. Our chief’s current condition is the result of a magical… accident.” Headphones guy looked away, pursing his lips into an uneasy frown. “We came ‘ere for ‘elp, and Flower Boy’s been providing it.”

“Happy to help!” Flowey piped up with pep, only to cower again as he caught sight of Chara’s glower.

The Leader continued. “When we got ‘ere, we didn’t encounter much trouble. Just… internal shit, I guess. But yesterday the kid went from the magical kiddie pool to the deep end. ‘E tried ta fix what was wrong with Reg and ended up going way too far. That magic gunk ‘e poured on Reg’s soul coulda killed ‘im.”

“Sv- He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t think it would work.” Curtis argued back. “I think, after everything that’s happened, he’s undergoing some sort of psychotic break. He needs help.”

“He needs an exorcist.” Chara declared. “Did you see those tentacles he was attacking with? That was certainly not normal magic. It was downright Lovecraftian.”

It was difficult to restrain the urge to point out that Chara themselves was a horror from beyond the grave, but with his DETERMINATION, Henry managed it. Barely.

“Okay, so why’s your boss freaking out whenever we say Sven’s name?” As if on cue, Toppat Chief Reginald moaned again, and Henry found himself stilling. Now that he was paying attention, that sounded… like something. Not just a moan. A specific sound.

Chara hummed as they pondered. “Perhaps it is a PTSD reaction from this Sven character hurting him”

Another groan. There was no mistaking it: That was a consonant.

“I really hope not.” The red-haired Toppat leader spoke. He brushed back the Chief’s bang with surprising gentleness despite shaky fingers. “As if life ‘asn’t messed ‘im up enough.”

The voice of the Toppat Chief was so garbled it was hard to tell which one, but he was definitely trying to say something.

“I doubt it.” Flowey spoke up. “In his current state, he’s not capable of that sort of emotional response to anything.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time you’d been wrong.”

As they argued in the background, Henry leaned a little closer to this Chief Reginald guy and whispered, just loud enough to be heard. “Sven, Sven, Sven.”

The short chant got the Chief to groan a little louder, but no more clearly.

“And ‘e ‘asn’t done anything like this before?” Rupert inquired.

“Uh, if he had, we wouldn’t be wigging out now, would we?” Curtis shrugged off. “Did that fire burn away your brain cells, bub?”

“I’ll burn away YER brain cells!”

Henry whispered, “Sven, Sven, Sven.”

The same response. Something was definitely happening here.

“Oi!” Finally someone noticed what Henry was doing, and to absolutely nobody’s surprise it was the other Toppat Leader. “Wot do ya think yer doin’ there?”

Henry took a deep breath, then turned to look the guy in the face. “I think your chief is trying to communicate something to us.”

This caused the Leader to perk up, his shoulders stiffening, his eyes widening. Clearly that was not what he was expecting to hear. “Ya sure?” He asked, and underneath the forced calm of his voice Henry could hear a hint of desperation. Looking him directly in the face, it was a lot easier to notice the redness of his eyes, the dark shadows underneath them. In spite of himself, it made Henry’s gut clench. Back after he’d first found Charles, Henry hadn’t slept much, and the little he did get was hardly what one would call restful. And that look in the Leader’s eye; the way his pupils seemed to shrink, darting from Henry to Rupert to Chara to Burt and back again, reminded Henry of that painful time.

Charles was on the path to recover. This Chief, however, was broken in an entirely different way. Henry couldn’t imagine how it’d feel to see his loved one(s?) like this.

“That’s… impossible.” Flowey insisted. “That should be impossible. The degradation of his soul caused by the DETERMINATION overexposure doesn’t allow for that. Since his soul is PATIENCE dominant, what happened yesterday may have reinvigorated the healthier portions of his soul to allow him to retain some thoughts, AT BEST – but he doesn’t have enough BRAVERY to speak those words aloud.”

“Forgive me,” Chara interrupted, “if I’m not immediately persuaded. However, you’ve been wrong about the nature of souls before, Mister ‘Absolute God of Hyperdeath’.”

Despite himself, Curtis snorted. “God of WHAT?”

Today Henry learned that a flower can blush. Apparently.

“T-that’s- how do you even know about that?!” Flowey shrieked. It’s mouth wobbled as it struggled to keep itself contained. “You know I just- It was those stupid- You know what?!” Flowey burrowed into the ground, and emerged next to the door to a bathroom nearby. “Why don’t we stop playing guessing games and scan Twinhat’s soul again? That’ll clear this whole mess up quicker than a giftrot during holiday season!”

“Sure.” Chara agreed readily enough, though their frown didn’t ease in the slightest. “Frisk and I had been learning about Doctor Alphys’ equipment, so the results from them will be far more trustworthy than the likes of you.”

“Being a little hard on him, aren’t you, Chara?” Henry inquired. “I mean, you and Asriel were best friends, but now you’re treating him like-”

Henry didn’t get a chance to finish before Chara turned on him, quicker than his eye could catch. Their eyes darkened, and their entire form became less stable. Their face melted, their hair flew out in odd directions, and their physical body deformed in odd ways, dispelling the illusion that the child was wearing a sweater and jeans and projecting a creature Henry could more accurately describe as an imp. This new form emerged in seconds, and as soon as they’d taken it Chara was in his face, their grin wide and wicked.

“That THING is not Asriel. It’s an abomination wielding his memories and wearing his face. MY Asriel was sweet and gentle. MY Asriel believed in the good of all things.” As they spoke, Chara’s features melted further, slowly becoming more demonic. They turned to Flowey, then, as they uttered, “My Asriel wouldn’t kill an innocent, crying child. Frisk’s DETERMINATION SAVED me. It gave me something to latch onto, a link to reality that I was able to use to bring myself back. And you tried to kill them.” The demonic form melted away as Chara’s words became more personal, revealing the child buried underneath. “My Asriel is gone. You’re just a failed experiment who doesn’t have the good sense to die.”

And with those final cutting words, Chara flew away, melting under the lab’s tile floor.

The awkward silence Chara left in their wake was broken by a simple, “Ouch,” from Curtis, who silently scratched the back of his neck and avoided Flowey’s eyes as he spoke. “Somebody clearly needs anger management classes. You okay, Flowey?”

“…” The silence hung over them for a long second, before Flowey looked up at them with a smile too big and too merry to be genuine. “Puh-lease. I don’t have a soul, remember? I can’t feel anything.”

“Yer an awful liar, Flower Boy.” The Toppat Leader interjected. While Flowey and Chara had been bickering, he’d forced the Toppat Chief to his feet. “If ya got somethin’ ta say, ya can just say it.”

Flowey refused to take this bait, smiling up at them. “Nah, I’m good. I’ll, uh, go warm up the machine. Meet you down there!” The flower burrowed under the tiles again, and this time stayed down. If Henry stood still and focused, he could hear the sound of it tunneling beneath his feet, which was actually a fairly creepy sound.

The Toppat leader sighed, dragged Chief Reginald beside him in a human crutch style carry. As they followed behind, Henry heard Rupert muttering behind him, “When did my life become a goddamned soap opera?”

And honestly? Same.

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

Henry had no frame of reference for what Flowey would later refer to as ‘the True Labs’, so he was forced to keep close to Rupert the literal human torch (who did not seem happy to be used as a lamp, but did it anyways) and follow the lead of the two dangerous Toppat clan members who both had fairly solid reasons to want them dead. All in all, not the most dangerous thing he’d ever done, but probably up there. If Charles were present, Henry could imagine the spirited soul lightening the mood with his supernatural powers of extroversion and optimism.

Chara and Flowey were already waiting for them when they arrived. The atmosphere was palpably tense.

“Ookay.” Flowey was situated at a familiar looking machine, reminiscent of the scanner Doctor Alphys used to examine Henry and Charles’ souls. “Just have Twinhat stand in the center of the room and I’ll launch another scan.”

The Toppat Leader guided Chief Reginald to the designated spot. Henry took this opportunity to back up against the wall.

His actions didn’t go unnoticed. Rupert immediately inquired. “Wot’s up ‘Enry? Is ‘at thing dangerous?” He immediately regarded the device with skepticism.

To that, Henry shook his head. “Nah, it’s perfectly safe. I just don’t feel like having the innermost depths of my soul mechanically analyzed.” Which was a partially true explanation as an afterthought, but not Henry’s primary motivation. Doctor Alphys had learned about Henry’s fragile condition with this machine back when it was still relatively minor, and now it had been exasperated. As one might imagine, this wasn’t exactly information he wanted spread out to the general public, let alone people he’d personally screwed over.

Curtis nodded in understanding. “Yeah, that makes sense. Actually, let me join you.” And he, too, stood against the wall as far from the machine as he could. Rupert didn’t seem to care, since the device wasn’t any immediate threat, and nobody else seemed to have any sort of problem with the scanner.

The scanner worked quicker than the one Doctor Alphys had. Perhaps because this was a more advanced model of the machine she was already using. Chirping and whirling sounds filled the air as the machine spat out a piece of paper. Flowey made sounds that echoed the machine’s as it worked. When the paper finally finished printing, Chara snatched it up just as Flowey was about to grab it, and they shot him a glare that caused him to wilt away with a nervous smile before they looked at the data.

“And, as expected, Flowey’s initial assessment was entirely incorrect!” Chara turned the chart around, showing what was honestly an abysmal assessment. His soul readings were about as close to minimal as one could get, with a minor peak of the cyan PATIENCE line and, if one looked closely, the slightest hint of a bump with orange BRAVERY. “As you can see, hearing about Sven,” They paused so as not speak over Reginald’s pitiful attempt to speak, “triggered a spike of BRAVERY in this mess of a soul.”

The Toppat Leader looked faintly like he wanted to argue the point, but instead held his tongue and helped Reginald over to a wall, only barely managing to keep them both upright as his body swayed uneasily.

“’At’s a spike?” Rupert squinted at the graph. “It’s barely a molehill.”

“It’s more than he had yesterday.” Flowey pointed out. “But how did that happen?”

Curtis walked past them quickly, approaching Reginald with DETERMINATION in his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? The old man was right. He’s trying to tell us something about Sven.”

This time Henry spoke over the feeble attempt from Reginald to form words. “Old man?!” Excuse you, bitch, Henry was an albino, thank you very much! Now, Henry was mature enough not to start a fight over this slight, but he wasn’t above sticking his tongue out at Curtis behind his back.

If Curtis noticed anything, he didn’t respond. He instead knelled right in front of his chief and gripped him by the shoulders, looking into his eyes and pleading. “Sir, please. If you know something about what’s going on with Sven, you have to tell us! Please!”

Reginald gave a low groan, but did not respond further.

“It’s not going to work, my friend.” Chara declared calmly. “If it was as simple as that, he would have been able to manage it himself. Something is inspiring BRAVERY in him, but it’s not enough.”

“Then let’s just give ‘em more.” Rupert said, as though it was as simple as it sounded. “I mean, the Doc was able to give Charles this DETERMINATION stuff. We can give this guy BRAVERY, right?”

“Oh! What a BRILLIANT plan!” Flowey chirped up in his faux cheerfulness. “And let me ask you, how would we be doing this? We barely understand how souls work. DETERMINATION can be extracted, but the other traits? That’s more complicated.”

“Well, nobody else is making suggestions!” Rupert complained.

Humming curiously, Henry reached into his backpack and pulled out something he hadn’t touched in days: the book on soul traits he’d purchased shortly after finding Charles. Once his lost friend was safely in the monster’s care, Henry hadn’t really had use for the tome anymore. Well, now there might be something in here on BRAVERY. He opened it and began skimming through the content.

Rupert peeked over his shoulder curiously. “Whatchya got there?”

“It’s a book that has a lot of info about souls.” Henry answered, still flicking through the pages. “It’s basically some magical researchers compilation of old knowledge and stories, haphazardly translated and stuck in the fiction section of failing bookstores across the nation.”

“WHAT?!” Flowey shrieked, his vines growing up out of the ground and grasping for the book. Henry held it out of reach. “What- no! Let me see it!”

“Later.” Henry promised absently. At last, he found what he was looking for. “A-ha! Okay, here’s what we’ve got: ‘BRAVERY, as an Element of the Soul, has a primarily offensive purpose. It determines how well you can cope with the outside World, and how you face the challenges that come before you. Those with low amounts of BRAVERY have a tendency to retreat within themselves, and will often refuse to step up to the challenges of life. On the contrary, high levels of BRAVERY creates souls that are more willing to ACT, and often take up jobs nobody else is able or willing to do. Now, this does not mean that those with a BRAVERY dominant Soul are absent of fear. But instead, their fear is more likely to motivate them than to cripple them.

“When it comes to magic, those with a BRAVERY-dominant Soul are gifted with the ability to COMMAND the Elements.’” Henry grinned. “Hey, Rupert, it’s not just fire you can control. It’s all the elements.”

The face Rupert put on suggested he hadn’t considered that. “...Uh, neat, I guess. But I like fire. It’s cool. And pretty. And… cool.”

With a smug smile, Curtis commented. “If you’re that keen on fire, we’ve always got an arsonist’s spot open in the Toppats.”

“You wish.” Rupert sneered back, not nearly as amused as Curtis was. “I’ll see about COMMANDING other elements later. Wot else does that book say?”

Right. Henry returned to reading. “Let’s see… some general theory on the function of BRAVERY in the soul, some implied horoscope-type general nonsense on the nature of BRAVERY… huh. Listen to this.” Henry began pacing as he read the passage. “’BRAVERY in comparison to other traits is unique, as unlike the others it wanes and waxes as necessarily, tending to sway in amounts far more than other traits. It’s lack of consistency is often made up for in its potency, as just a tiny amount of BRAVERY can sway even the most shaky of souls into ACTION. BRAVERY is an element that responds to need; when one needs to be BRAVE, that is what they become.’”

Everybody turned to look at Reginald, who stared ahead and didn’t respond to anything.

“...So… his soul is responding to something he needs to say.” Flowey mused. “But it’s not able to respond enough for him to get it out. Does it say anything about invoking or transfusing BRAVERY?”

“Um…” Henry continued to skim through the fluff, then turned the page. “It’s pretty nonsensical. Something about ‘sharing a vision’ and ‘inspiring BRAVERY’. I don’t understand it.”

A blanket of silence fell over the room as they all considered the words, and what they could mean. But before any of them could come to a conclusion, Rupert’s surprisingly weak voice broke through their concentration. “No… I think I get it. BRAVERY, it’s somethin’ you can share. Somethin’ ya can give ta someone else when you inspire them, when yer fightin’ side by side, and you know they just need a little more strength ta go on, and, and you can give it ta them, just by bein’ there for ‘em!” Rupert turned to Henry, obviously excited. “Ya know?”

“Huh.” Chara blinked. “You’re not quite as stupid as you appear.”

“I am feelin’ good enough about myself that I am going to ignore that!”

Flowey popped up next to him. “Well, okay, but that doesn’t mean much if you can’t use it. Do you think you can get whatever Twinhat wants to say out of him.”

A grim expression crossed Rupert’s face, and it suddenly dawned on Henry what they were asking of the soldier. This man lead the organization that had ripped Dave away from him. And here they were, asking Rupert to help him, with no guarantee of an answer that benefited them even if it went well. When he thought about it like that, Henry was surprised that Rupert wasn’t biting their heads off.

Hesitantly, Henry let a hand settle on Rupert’s shoulder. “Hey, man. You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

The declaration earned him some sour looks from the Toppats, but Henry was beyond caring about them.

“I don’t want to do this.” Rupert declared. “But… I have to. Fer Dave. Fer all the monsters that suffered because of this whole mess. Heh.” Rupert looked up at Henry. “Look at me. Defending monsters.”

“Life works in mysterious ways.” Henry responded.

That seemed to be all the encouragement Rupert needed. With slow steps, like a man walking to his grave, Rupert came up to the standing Chief of the Toppat Clan, very clearly putting in the effort not to look up at the haggard, tense face of the other Toppat Leader. Taking in a breath to steady himself, Rupert reached forward and pulled the Chief’s soul from his chest and Jesus. Henry thought his soul was in bad shape, but his was literally in the process of fading. Looking directly at the sickly gray light made Henry feel nauseous. How was he still alive?

Rupert either didn’t know what the odd appearance of his soul meant or didn’t care as his own made an appearance. He reached forward to grab the broken soul, and Henry saw the Toppat Leader tense physically at the sight of someone so close to the precious heart. But Rupert was careful as he cradled it, and he whispered. His whispers were soft and gentle, and Henry could only catch a few encouraging words. The rest was like a soft buzz in his ears.

The orange light of Rupert’s soul grew stronger, and the light flowed from Rupert to Reginald. Looking directly upon it, Henry felt stronger. Tenser. BRAVER.

“S-Sven… he…” Chief Reginald choked out.

Both of the other Toppats crowded around him, which didn’t seem like the smartest thing to do, but Henry could understand why they were both so excited. The Leader placed a tender hand on his cheek. “Reg, Love.” The Leader whispered. “It’s okay, you can say it. We’re listening.” Despite the bleary dull of his eyes, the Toppat Leader was entirely focused on Chief Reginald.

“What about Sven, sir?” Curtis demanded, a little more panicked than his boss. “Please, whatever it is, you have to tell us!”

“H-he… called it… Gaster.”

And then his face fell. Rupert tried to prod him into revealing more, but it seemed that was all he could bring himself to say.

Nobody spoke. Nobody moved.

“Uh…” Flowey reluctantly broke the silence after some time. “Gaster. Does that mean anything to anyone?”

Immediately Rupert shook his head. “’Ere aren’t any monsters called ‘Gaster’ in the camp. And I’ve never met any ‘umans by that name.”

“It’s not a name that’s come up in any of my research either.” Henry mused aloud. Should he know that name? No, he’d never heard it once. But what did it mean? What did it-?

“I know of Gaster.”

Everybody looked back at Chara.

“While traveling the Underground, Frisk and I stumbled upon a number of… odd monsters that spoke of a Royal Scientist before Doctor Alphys. They made Frisk greatly uncomfortable, so we were never alone with them long, but every one of them told us a little tidbit of the tale of Doctor WD Gaster. A monster who built the core, devoted his life to science and escaping the Underground, and then fell into his creation and became scattered across space and time.”

Curtis stepped forward. He looked more serious and focused than Henry had seen him so far. “So this Gaster guy is behind Sven’s weird behavior.”

“It makes sense.” Chara agrees. “While it’s unbecoming of an intelligent person to jump to conclusions, we’re talking about monster created the CORE that powered the Underground. He was an unrivaled genius, and if anybody could figure out how to steal souls without killing the host, it would be a monster who managed to fragment the space-time continuum.”

“Uh, did you forget the part where he’s SCATTERED across SPACE and TIME?” Flowey interrupted. “This guy’s not around. He’s probably not even alive.”

“That does not mean he’s not responsible for what’s happening.” Chara countered quickly. “As my presence clearly indicates, death does not necessarily preclude you from involvement. My vanished soul had been restored by Frisk’s DETERMINATION, and sheltered by their body until I was able to obtain this form… somehow…” Chara looked down at themselves, frustrated by their own confusion over how their ghostly body worked. “It may actually be that Gaster’s present with Sven in a similar manner.”

“So, like, he’s manipulating Sven.” Burt immediately jumped onto this idea, clinging to this hope that this Sven guy wasn’t responsible for what was happening. While it was understandable how he’d be clinging to any hope he could, a part of Henry recalled the strange way Sven was talking, how his blood had been replaced by black ooze, and wondered if he was beyond SAVING.

Flowey still wasn’t satisfied. “And how would that work?! Sven’s a human, and this guy’s a monster! A monster whose soul was probably destroyed EONS ago!”

“We’re just throwing out theories right now. We won’t know what’s actually going on until we catch Sven and get him to talk.” Chara muttered to themselves, various ideas about how to track down and capture the soul thief, until Rupert’s very annoyed fake coughing knocked them out of it. “Ah, right, we can talk about that later. For now, let’s all head back and inform King Asgore and the General of the situation. You’ll all need to come with us, of course.” Chara turned to them. “We will need all the help we can get against a creature smart enough to cheat at magic.”

“’ard pass.”

Everybody turned around to face the Toppat Leader. He’d just finished fixing the messed up shirt of his boss (lover? There was definitely something going on between them) and had escorted the dull-eyed Chief to a nearby chair. He was facing away from them as he growled. “As long as Sven doesn’t come anywhere near Reg, we’ll be fine ‘ere. Curtis, ya can go with ‘em if ya really want, but I’ve gotta keep up this research.”

Everyone just continued staring, taking in the nonsensical declaration. Seriously? He wanted to stay in this dark, empty place?

“That would be a terrible idea, for multiple reasons.” Chara flew over to him, their tone polite and casual. Henry caught sight of the Toppat Leader’s eye twitching, and suddenly remembered his earlier assessment that this guy hadn’t slept in some time. He tried to call Chara back, whisper shouting at them, but they either failed to hear him or, more likely, pretended not to. “I don’t know if its an ego issue or if you’re just stupid, but staying down here will make you and your husband perfect targets for soul theft. Or do you think Flowey can protect you? Hardly. Flowey couldn’t protect wet tissue paper.”

“Ah, Chara…?” Rupert, too, was noticing the Toppat Leader tensing, noticing how his fists were clenching so hard they were turning red.

“...The Chief’s recovery comes before everything.” The Leader growled at them, his eyes narrowing.

Chara paid Rupert no mind. “If that’s the case, then why needlessly place him in danger? And in addition to all that, the information you have on Sven is imperative to our success. You should come with us voluntarily. We can, and will, make you come with us if we need to!” At this point, Henry winced and turned away, knowing their wasn’t much he could do to stop the train wreck at this point. “Between the flower and your braindead Chief, there isn’t much you can do to protect yourselves-”

That was the final straw, and the Toppat Leader whirled around and aimed a solid punch at Chara’s ghostly form. They nimbly flew out of his way, but this did not deter the Toppat in the slightest. He glowered at all of them, standing between the entire group and Chief Reginald, his stance tensed and angry like an angry mother bear.

“You had to provoke him.” Henry growled.

“I was attempting to encourage him to make the correct choice by pointing out the fruitlessness of his situation. Frisk pulled stunts like that all the time.” Argued back the spirit, who had taken a combat position behind Rupert. The soldier had armed himself with fire, but unlike Chara, didn’t make a move towards the Toppat, instead keeping his eyes locked with Henry’s, waiting for his command before doing anything. Curtis simply stood back, awkwardly watching the fight while rubbing his shoulder.

“...Then next time, leave the ACTING to Frisk. They’re clearly better at it.” Henry advised, taking a careful step forward.

Their quiet argument had set off the already angry man, and Henry had to immediately duck to dodge a chair thrown his way. He winced as this caused his injured side to burn. The Leader’s eyes, practically illuminated by the odd light of the True Labs, attempted to burn a hole through Henry as he shouted. “Don’t think I can protect wot’s mine, eh?! I’m the Right Hand Man of the Toppat Clan, its strongest enforcer, its greatest weapon!” His eyes darted around, trying to figure out which of them would attack first. “Come on, ‘en! Let me-!”

“Hey!” Before he could properly FIGHT, a vine suddenly burst out from the ground and looped around the Toppat Right Hand’s arm, forcing him down into a knelling position. Flowey poked his head out from under the ground, looking mournfully up at the leader. “Hey, it’s alright. You don’t have to FIGHT.”

“Wot are ya doin’, Flower Boy?!” The Right Hand struggled against the vines. “’Ey’re gonna arrest us- gonna put us back in prison! They’re gonna just leave ‘im like this! I can’t- I can’t let them-”

“Shh…” Flowey gently released his vines, allowing the tired man to fall to the floor. “Listen, Big Guy- Right Hand Man. I know I promised to help you guys, but Chara was right. I know stuff about DETERMINATION, but only because I mooched off of Alphys’ research. I was wrong about Twinhat not being able to react to outside stimuli in his current state. I have no clue if Sven hurting him is what triggered that spike of BRAVERY, or if it was something else. I don’t even know if I’m right about my own lack of a soul sometimes.” Flowey leaned forward, resting his face on the Right Hand Man’s knee while looking up at his face. “Reginald needs help. More than I can provide. And I think Doctor Alphys at the camp can give it to you. She created me, after all. She knows more about DETERMINATION and souls than any monster alive.”

Seeing what Flowey was doing, Henry also piped in, giving a glowing review of Alphys’ greatest act, in his unbiased opinion. “She helped take care of my dead friend’s soul while we figured out how to wake him up.” Then, almost as an afterthought, added, “Oh, and she saved my life once.”

“And if anyone tried to take him away,” Flowey pulled one of his roots out from the ground, letting it trail up the Right Hand Man’s arm. The Toppat didn’t fight it as Flowey pulled himself onto his shoulder, smiling from his new vantage point, “I’ll be right there to help you put them in their place. I… don’t like the idea of leaving the Underground myself. Something like me has no place in the world. But I’ll come with you to back you up anyways. With your time powers, and my magic and… ‘friendliness’,” Flowey grinned wickedly, creating a few white pellets and letting them slam against the wall, leaving new holes in the lab, “We’ll just bust outta there before they could lay a finger on your husband! But… we have to try Doctor Alphys. For his sake.

“You said you trusted me. Let me prove that I deserve it.”

The Toppat’s Right Hand Man took a shuttering breath and finally, shakily, stood back up. Flowey remained on his shoulder.

“...Al’ight. I’ll give ‘er one shot. But if this broad screws it up…” He trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence. That frigid glare told Henry all he needed to know about what would happen if the worst came to pass. “Curtis! Go get our bags… Sven’s too. We’re relocating.”

“Roger, sir.” Curtis saluted and rushed off to parts unknown.

“Then I suppose we should return.” Chara noted, but they did not look entirely pleased by the victory. And following their eyes, Henry saw the reason for that disappointment mounted on the Right Hand’s shoulder. “This is quite the mess.”

“Speakin’ of messes,” Rupert’s fingers suddenly, sharply, gripped on Chara’s ear, causing them to squeal in surprise, “Why don’t you an’ I have a conversation on ‘hostile negotiations’ and ‘unnecessary escalation’.” It took quite a bit of DETERMINATION, but Henry managed to suppress his snickering as Rupert dragged them out of the room for a proper verbal beat down. Rupert was already easily frustrated, and Chara making things pointlessly difficult must have pushed him over the edge.

He’d have to ask for an abridged version, later.

With them taken care of, Henry turned to the previously upset Toppat. He was groaning and rubbing his temples, muttering bitter, unusually distressed words about how stupid he was to let himself be caught in these crazy situations. Flowey was attempting to console him. Behind them, Chief Reginald was sitting on the ground. His eyes were staring blankly ahead. His mouth made slight movements as he breathed in and out. Dark circles under his eyes suggested he hadn’t properly rested in some time. His open palm was visibly twitching. Every article of clothing on him was wrinkled or otherwise disheveled, with even his hats being crooked. The muscles of his shoulders were entirely lax-

Henry paused, blinked, and returned his attention to Reginald’s hand. Still and boneless, just like the rest of him. Had he imagined that? With a sigh, Henry rubbed his temple and wondered if maybe he should’ve spared the time to visit Alphys after all.

“Before we head back,” Henry made sure to get their attention, then stuck out his hand to the Toppat’s Right Hand. “Henry Stickmin, Private Investigator.” That was how he generally introduced himself after the airship mission. It was a bit more respectable than ‘ex-thief’. “And you are…?”

The guy seemed reluctant, but at Flowey’s silent prodding he agreed and shook Henry’s hand. “Right ‘and Man of the Toppat Clan. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but we both know it’s not.”

Fair enough. Henry quirked his brow and asked, “Is that really your name?”

“Nope.”

“...you want to share it?”

“Nope.”

“Oookay, then.”

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

Buried somewhere in the mountain, deeper than even the True Lab, was yet another laboratory. Papers were scattered haphazardly everywhere, and a fine coating of dust covered every surface. The air should have been still in this untouched lab, but instead it was filled with the screeching of chalk against a blackboard as somebody furiously scribbled against a blackboard.

They paused suddenly, and put the chalk down.

“Ah, so it is possible. Marvelous, marvelous.”

Gaster grinned wickedly, and picked up something nearby. It darkened in his grip; the deepest black one could imagine. The darkness was beautiful.

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

Ugh, this chapter was a pain to write. I hope everything makes sense.

So, a bunch of stuff happened this chapter. Rupert's BRAVERY transfusion won't help Reg long term. It was a temporary boost. If you have any questions I'll answer them, though some might be answered next chapter. :)

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