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psylunari · 2 years ago

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Comments: thoughts, types, how-tos, and etiquette (part 4 of 4)

This is better read sequentially, but you can skip to any section. They are as numbered:

1) The basics

2) Thoughts on comment culture

3) Types of comments

4) Writing cohesive and coherent comments

5) Etiquette

6) Technical questions

7) Short-answer questions

8) Long-answer questions

Part 1: Sections 1 and 2.

Part 2: Sections 3 and 4.

Part 3: Sections 5 and 6.

Part 4: Sections 7 and 8 (you are here).

PDF version here, containing the whole thing. It has a table of contents and cute formatting.

♥ 7: Short-answer questions ♥

Shorter, straight-to-the-point answers that don’t delve into serious issues. If you look for in-depth discussions on “the ethics” of commenting, you’ll likely find them in Section 8.

7.1 This fic is old and/or completed. Should I comment/reply to a comment I got?

Fanfiction has no time limit to be appreciated, just like books. If you’re worried only about the fic being “old” or old, just comment, and you’ll most likely be well-received.

Some might reply, “my writing has evolved a lot” or “I’m embarrassed about this work”. There’s no need to apologize, you couldn’t know. The work was still there for consumption.

As for completion, some fics only get traffic after they’re finished. Getting comments after completion might be expected, so, no worries. That said, don’t skip commenting just because it’s a WIP. Some authors appreciate regular comments to keep the ball rolling.

7.2 I found an obvious typo in this fic, a chapter out of order, or posted twice. Should I warn the author about it?

From my experience, authors appreciate and thank you if you warn them about typos and repeated/misplaced chapters. However, if you’re not a regular and don’t have anything else to say other than “chapter 5 was posted twice”, they might be upset. After all, you took the time to comment and said nothing about the fic.

Try to come up with positive impressions, too, if you’ll leave this type of comment.

7.3 There’s a cool discussion in someone else’s comment thread. Should I join?

Comments are open to the public. Everyone can see them, so it isn’t horribly impolite if you chime in on someone else’s discussion. Be civil, add to the conversation, don’t nitpick, don’t correct people who aren’t your friends, and you’ll be fine.

7.4 I’d like to guess what happens in the fic. Should I comment it?

Your mileage may vary. Some authors like it, and some don’t. I myself love it when readers are invested enough to do so. Try to read other comments, even from other fics by the same author, to see how they reacted to people doing it before.

When in doubt, just don’t, and wait to see what happens in the plot.

7.5 I’m friends with the author and have early access to the fic, or I proofread/beta read the fic. Should I comment when it’s posted?

Not mandatory. You can if you want to. Just don’t spoil the fic for other readers.

7.6 I’m reading a longfic. Do I comment on all chapters, or just the last one available?

Whatever works best for you. None are considered rude per se.

7.7 I commented on this fic a while ago, and I’m rereading it. Should I comment again?

Yes, if you feel like it. Even mentioning a rereading will make some authors happy.

7.8 This fic was orphaned/posted anonymously. Should I comment?

Yes, if you want to. Just don’t doxx the author. It’s orphaned/anonymous for a reason.

7.9 I don’t have an account. Should I still comment?

Yes! Authors don’t mind it much. If they do, they lock guest comments. Comments from registered accounts feel more personal, though. I can check what they read and such.

If you don’t have an account, it’s easy to create one, and free on all Big Three™ fic sites. Yes, even if you don’t plan on posting fics ever. Go wild with bookmarking!

7.10 What’s the etiquette for comments in bookmark notes?

Your mileage may vary. Some argue it’s a reader’s space, and authors shouldn’t butt in if they’re not ready to read honest opinions. Some argue you shouldn’t be harsh on public bookmarks, because authors can see them.

Whatever you think about it, if a bookmark is public, the author can see what you write there. My advice? Be mindful and don’t post hate.

7.11 I want to ask something. Should I comment the question?

It depends. The golden rules, in this case, are “don’t doxx the author” and “don’t ask anything private”. Some people keep fandom and personal life apart, you should respect that.

If it’s related to that fic, it’s probably fine. If it’s related to another fic they write, it’s better to ask on that other fic.

7.12 I’m unsure if the author fills prompts. How to find out?

Check their profile and social media. It’s likely stated there. If unsure, contact them outside their comment sections, like in PMs or ask boxes. If those are unavailable, you can write your question together with some comment you would send anyway.

Comments with just “do you take requests?” and nothing else are usually rude.

7.13 An author I read didn’t reply to one of my comments. How should I go about this?

Don’t stress too much about it. Some authors are super private about interacting in fandom. Others are just busy and take a while to reply. Others get too many comments. Others don’t know what to say, or how to respond to positive reinforcement. Give them the benefit of the doubt and leave it at that. Most aren’t ignoring you.

7.14 I can read this fic, but can’t speak the author’s language well. Should I comment?

Yes! You can try to machine translate into their language, but you might end up with mistranslations, and those aren’t always funny. Comment in a language you speak well.

7.15 I got a comment in a language I don’t speak. What do I do?

Try to machine translate it. DeepL Translator is good nowadays. If you get nothing, post it on a writers’ group or Discord server for help. After you can read it, you can reply to it in the same language you write the fic. The reader can likely read it fine, just can’t write in it.

7.16 This fic was discontinued/is on hiatus. Should I comment?

Unless the author has stated they don’t want any more comments, you’re free to do it. Even more, if they mentioned the abandonment/hiatus being due to low engagement. If they said nothing about it, or the hiatus was prompted by external reasons, it’s probably fine.

7.17 The author left all fandoms/this fandom. Should I comment?

Unless the author has stated they don’t want any more comments, you’re free to do it. If they don’t like engagement on old works, they can moderate/turn off comments, turn off email notifications, or simply delete the fic/account. It’s their job to deal with it, not yours.

♥ 8: Long-answer questions ♥

This section covers trickier situations than Section 7 does. Here, you’ll find personal takes and an invitation to critical thinking. TL;DR of Section 8 is: you can say most things if you are respectful enough, but we know it’s more complicated than that.

I’m just human. Whether you agree or disagree with me, remain civil.

8.1 There’s misinformation in this fic on a topic I know well. Should I tell the author?

Let’s suppose you’re a History major. The fic you’re reading has technology during times and in places it didn’t exist. Or you’re in the medical field, and the author got something very wrong about bullet wounds. Or you work in a daycare, and one-year-old children in the fic are speaking full sentences. You get the idea.

Fanfiction might contain misinformation for a variety of reasons. Consider:

Is it a stereotype or common misconception usually present in media, being reinforced? Or did even the canon content get it wrong? The author might have reproduced it without giving it too much thought, or is trying to stay close to the source material.

Is it a case of poor research? Is that information easily accessible? Is it behind a paywall? Is it an obscure fact they’d only know if they were a scholar?

Is the author ignorant? Is it possible they just didn’t research, or don’t know better?

Does the author even care about getting it right? Or are they writing whatever comes to mind just for fun/writing practice/letting it out of their system?

Is it an AU or a fictional world? It could be different from actual Earth at that.

If you don’t know the author, and you can’t infer anything from the author’s notes/social media/comment replies either, I suggest that you don’t go assuming they’re evil. Sometimes, fanfiction is written by very young people who don’t know better, or just adults trying to relax without extra stress about, say, historical accuracy. That’s not to forbid you from talking to them about it. You just have to ask yourself a few things:

First, how big is the mistake? Is it easy to fix?

Is it potentially harmful misinformation? Could someone get hurt because of it?

Could you be wrong? Is it different somewhere else, for example?

To which extent are you willing to help them?

Reflect upon the above. If you’re in doubt about your perception being correct, do a little research yourself. In the end, if you’re set on contacting them, I have a few suggestions. Before anything else, if you don’t want to just leave the fic be, here’s my advice: if you’re willing to point out the mistake, you should be willing to help.

For easy fixes, like wrong dates/names of places, things that the author can solve in fifteen minutes or less, comment what you’d comment anyway, and add something like:

“By the way, would you be up for a small fact check? I’m a [insert your field of expertise], and I noticed a thing in the chapter. It’s okay if you don’t want it, though.”

If they reply positively, then, tell them what it is.

If it’s harder to fix, comment what you’d comment anyway, and add something like:

“I’m not sure if you’ll accept it or not, but I’m a [insert your field of expertise], and I could help you find good research material about it, or even answer your questions based on my experience. Let me know if you’re interested!”

Then, if they end up talking to you about it, follow through with your part.

8.2 There’s bad representation of ethnic groups, LGBTQ+, disabled, neurodivergent, etc. people in this fic. Should I call the author out?

If you’re not, let’s suppose you’re part of a marginalized group. Or you have a close friend or family member who is. The fic you’re reading has a stereotype or misconception you don’t like. It might be wildly incorrect, biased, offensive, outdated, or even harmful.

Fanfiction might contain misinformation for a variety of reasons. Consider:

Is it a bad stereotype, usually present in media, being reinforced? Or did even the canon content get it wrong? The author might have reproduced it without giving it too much thought, or is trying to stay close to the source material.

Is it a case of poor research? Is that information easily accessible? Is it behind a paywall? Is it an obscure fact they’d only know if they belonged to that group?

Is the character’s experience just different from what you know? Can you actually call it “bad representation”? I am Brazilian. While there are shared experiences, it’s not the same everywhere. I don’t speak for the whole country, or expect everyone to have the same background and mindset. A Rio native isn’t the same as a São Paulo native. They’re both Brazilian. One isn’t “more Brazilian” or “better representation”. There is no “right way” to be Brazilian, as there isn’t one valid experience of being an ethnicity, nationality, identity, etc.

Is it just content you don’t like reading? For example, some trans people love transition by magic in fantasy stories. Some hate it. Everyone has their reasons, and they’re all valid. Transition by magic isn’t bad by itself, it’s a matter of taste. Don't Like, Don't Read.

Is the author bigoted? Do they, for example, use a character as a spokesperson for their beliefs? Do they try to moralize through ficwriting? Is there frequent soapboxing in the fic? Do they have a repeated offense history?

Is the author ignorant? Is it possible they just didn’t research, or don’t know better?

Are they a troll? In that case, why would you feed it?

How can you actually tell, 100% for sure, they’re ill-intentioned? Do you know the author? Are you friends with them? Are they active on social media? Do they leave author’s notes? Have they ever stated why they wrote what they wrote?

The possibilities are endless, but one thing is certain: a callout, especially a public one, is not the best way to deal with those. You might start drama. The BAD kind of fandom drama that makes people leave fandom forever and might have real-life consequences. It might affect people not initially involved, totally innocent, and/or unaware of what’s going on.

Unless the author is admitting to a crime, committing one with what they wrote, or planning to commit one, internet exposés are not the way to go. Or not even then: reporting to the police instead of creating online clout is way more effective, and way less panic-inducing. Plus, even if the author is ill-intentioned, and you’d be doing a favor to the fandom by exposing them as a bad person, give it a few months and no one will remember a thing. See: politicians everywhere on the face of the Earth.

If you don’t want to just leave the fic be, here’s my advice: if you’re willing to point out the mistake, you should be willing to help. Offer them a sensitivity reading opportunity, in case the representation is about your group specifically. Introduce them to someone who can do the sensitivity reading, in case it’s not about you. You can also comment what you would comment anyway and add the following:

“I’m not sure if you’ll accept it or not, but I’m [insert the identity or condition], and I could help you find good research material about it, or even answer your questions based on my experience. [In case you’re referring them to someone else, explain who the person is.] Let me know if you’re interested!”

If the author really doesn’t know much about the topic and is wondering if they made a mistake, it’ll show in their reply. If they are bigoted, trolling, or ill-intentioned, same, and you can quit the fic for good with a clear conscience.

8.3 I think this fic could be more appropriately tagged. Should I let the author know?

This issue is more prevalent on AO3, but might still be an interesting read for users of other sites. “Appropriately tagged” depends on a lot of things. Namely:

Freeform tags: check if you missed something that’s already covered;

Archive Warnings: “Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings” counts as a warning;

Content itself: does it appear enough to need a tag, or is it too brief of a mention?;

If the mention is too brief: could it be solved with a simple author’s note?;

Rating: “Not Rated” is treated as “could be any rating, proceed with caution”;

Tagging style: Some are thorough taggers, others aren’t. Overtagging is debatable.

These things are open to interpretation more often than not. Even if, yes, the fic could use better tagging, it’s useless and rude to boss the author around. In the end, you have no say in it. On the flip side, some people have a hard time tagging, and they’ll appreciate help.

If you decide to suggest it, I advise that you do it politely and with a question. Comment whatever you were going to comment anyway, and add something like:

“By the way, what would you think of tagging/not tagging as [whatever tag]? I’ve read it, and it looks like [whatever tag] to me. If this isn’t your interpretation, I apologize. You’re free to disregard this question. I just mean for you to reach the widest audience possible.”

More or less the same would go for suggestions on author’s notes, and you’ll be fine.

8.4 The content in this fic isn’t a common trigger or Archive Warning, but it upsets me personally. Should I talk about it?

Before we begin, let me clarify a few things.

First: while some works in the media do warn about possibly controversial, upsetting, uncomfortable, etc. content, that practice wasn’t too common twenty or so years ago. Yes, even things that AO3 deems “common enough of a trigger” to be Archive Warnings. When you went to the movies spoiler-free, you didn’t have much of an idea what you were getting into.

Second: oftentimes, all you had was a rating like PG-13 or R, and ratings aren’t the same for every country. What you can show to children and teens, and what can/cannot be on mainstream media, varies from culture to culture. A one-size-fits-all rating isn’t possible.

Third: if warnings weren’t ordinary in mainstream media, they weren’t the norm in fanworks either. The main site for years was FFN. The summary length is short. It allows you to tag two genres and four characters. The author has to add anything else in the chapter document. There isn’t an “author’s notes” section. Even the site format isn’t warning-friendly

Fourth: tagging culture in fanfiction rose to prominence with AO3’s extensive filtering options and was made possible by a team of tag wranglers. It doesn’t have many precedents.

Fifth: “Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings” is a warning. It shouldn’t be ignored.

Sixth: current fandom culture favors conflict-free, fluffy stories more than in the past. The odds of finding dark content 15–20 years ago were higher. People were desensitized.

With all that cleared up, let’s continue.

Even if it’s strongly advisable to tag certain contents, tags are still a courtesy. They are not mandatory, and certainly, not something you can use to justify yelling at someone for not pandering to you. If the author isn’t a friend, they don’t know you, and don’t have to take care of you, a stranger on the internet, let alone curate your experience for you.

If you feel compelled to ask about contents being untagged, or even asking them to tag it for the potential discomfort, do it politely. Give the author the benefit of the doubt. Wait for their reply and see how they react to a polite request.

An example of a polite request would be to include the following in your comment:

“That part where you mentioned [the upsetting thing to you], in my opinion, could use a tag if you think a tag is justified. You can’t possibly know everyone’s trauma and story, but it’s uncomfortable for some people, including me. Thanks for the attention!”

It’ll more likely turn out fine, everyone gets what they want in the end. If you start rude and demanding, expect nothing less than a rude and defensive rebuttal.

There are eight billion people on Earth. If every person had one trigger (not common ones, but things from their lives), there’d be eight billion triggers. Don’t assume there was an ill intention of shocking/hurting you. They don’t even know you. It might’ve been, and probably was, something else. The world doesn’t revolve around anyone, not even you.

Everyone has seen things online they weren’t meant to see or didn’t want to see. Sadly, it’s part of the experience. Yes, you are/were a victim of it. So are all of us. Be on guard.

8.5 This fic would be neat, save for a few tropes/tags I dislike. Do I comment about it?

I won’t get into the debacle of “is it morally acceptable to write about [theme]” or “do the themes you read/write mean something about you as a person”. It’s not the point and doesn’t add to the topic. If you are hung up on that, do your research (especially on fannish history), reflect upon it, and listen to different opinions. Just don’t join bandwagons. Remember, the world isn’t black and white, good or bad. Think for yourself. Let’s move on.

Honestly? You’ll play it safer if you skip the fic altogether. Not engaging with content you don’t like is healthier, both short and long-term. It’s ancient, but Don’t Like, Don’t Read is still (or should be) a thing. If the content actually upsets or triggers you, instead of being just a preference, then I strongly advise that you skip it.

If it isn’t your cup of tea and that’s all, no triggers involved, you could read it, but not mention your dislike of the trope/tag. Just comment on the aspects you like. Maybe your opinion on the theme will change along the way, who knows? If you want to talk about it, there are polite ways to approach this.

Fanfiction is a hobby. It’s free to read, and unpaid work people do when they want and can. Even if authors post for validation, they love what they do. Very few people write fic for attention. It can be a thankless activity; hours of work for low or no engagement. If attention was all they wanted, it’d be easier to be a vocal fandom troll or become a meme.

Put yourself in the author’s shoes. If you created something in your free time and posted it, would you like to get a comment that goes like this?

“Aw, it would be perfect if not for things you put here because you love them! Too bad.”

Best-case scenario, the author replies “that’s like, your preference, I hope you enjoyed it anyway”. Changing a fic because of readers’ preferences is highly unlikely. Worst-case scenario? They’ll reply angrily, delete your comment, and block you.

That easily translates to “I don’t care what you like to write, only what I like to read”. You’ve gone out of your way to say they’re gross/have bad taste/are unable to please you. It’s demanding, rude, and not what authors want in their inbox when trying to have a good time.

If you don’t like a fic for its tropes and themes, you’re probably not the target audience. Just say to yourself, “it’s not about me” and go on with your life.

You can write a comment like this without giving away your dislike of the theme:

“This fic is not my usual choice, but I really like your take on [trope/tag].” “I’ve never read a [trope/tag] as great as yours.”

You can elaborate with the rest of your opinion, but try to keep the tone of “not my first choice, but I love it” or “your fic is special to me”.

8.6 I usually don’t like the pairing in this fic, but I like how the author wrote it. Should I mention it in my comment?

I won’t get into the “should people be allowed to ship what they want” debacle, nor the “does your taste in ships mean something about you as a person” one. It’s not my point and doesn’t add to the topic. The same advice for subsection 8.5 works here. Let’s move on.

The fic you’re reading includes a ship you don’t like. You might even hate the ship. Or you don’t typically read it. Or you don’t care about it. Or you like it in canon, not the fanon though. Or it isn’t canon, and you’d like it in fandom if you agreed with the fandom’s take on it. Whatever the situation is, it isn’t your cup of tea.

However, this author does it right. It’s good; great, even. You want to praise them. They deserve praise. Should you tell them something like “I don’t like X/Y, but I like YOUR X/Y”? In my experience, it’s a double-edged sword.

Some love it, feeling special for appealing to readers who don’t like the pairing, and even making them change their minds. I’ve raised awareness for a rarepair in one of my fandoms. It’s not a hated ship, it leans more on the unknown kind. People who weren’t averse to it saw the chemistry and reasoning behind it, and we are now a rarepair fan club of, like, five members. Do I feel important? Yeah, a bit.

Some hate it; why rain on their parade? They love the ship enough to write about it (for free in their spare time, nonetheless). That compliment might sound passive-aggressive, as in “your taste is trash, you’re shipping trash, but I’ll take your writing”. Remember, fanfiction is, by nature, self-indulgent. It’s for fun, and people being kinda mean in their inbox isn’t fun.

Some don’t think strongly about it. They’ll just thank you for the comment and go on with their day with extra serotonin.

I advise you to read the author’s replies. If they’ve reacted okay to similar comments, go ahead. However, err on the side of caution, especially if the ship has a dedicated haterbase or is considered “controversial” for whatever reason. There are safer things to praise.

You can write a comment like this without giving away your dislike of the ship:

“This fic is not my usual choice, but I really like your portrayal of [said ship]” “I’ve never read a [said ship] as great as yours”.

You can elaborate with the rest of your opinion, but try to keep the tone of “not my first choice, but I love it” or “your fic is special to me”. It’s similar to Don’t Like, Don’t Read, but it’s called Ship And Let Ship. Check The Three Laws of Fandom for more.

8.7 I love the idea for this fic, but the writing isn’t great/the spelling, punctuation, and/or grammar need work/it has bad formatting. How can I approach the author about it?

I made lots of friends back in the day by commenting on stories, offering to beta read, and helping brainstorm. Some are still my friends a decade later. I don’t talk to most anymore, but those were smart, skilled people I had the privilege of calling friends for a while.

The culture regarding beta reading offers and concrit has shifted, though. That’s not to say it’s impossible these days. There are many theories on why that is, and I have covered some in this post. Let’s just say it’s harder to do it now and get happy replies.

Here are some ways to deal with those situations.

Note: the tips apply if you’re willing to help them or introduce them to someone who will. Don’t demand quality from someone you don’t know and don’t want to help. They write it for themselves, for free, in their spare time. Don’t act entitled.

Don’t drop a beta reading offer without a regular comment. It’s rude;

If you are new to the author’s work, read some of it first and comment on it. That’ll also help you understand their strengths and weaknesses. Become a regular in their comment section. When you’re a familiar face, politely offer help;

If you’re already a regular, drop the request together with your next comment, leave an identifiable question on their social media, PM them, or something like that;

Don’t take it personally if they decline. Sometimes, they don’t have the time, or writing is their way to unwind, and they don’t want any editing stress associated with it. Beta reading takes time and requires human interaction. It’s not for everyone and every fic;

They would accept a beta reading offer from a friend they trust, rather than a reader they don’t know too well. Try befriending them if they are open to it. If they decline the beta offer, at least, you have a new friend! Maybe they’ll open up to betaing in the future?;

If it’s just a formatting issue like that AO3 bug (adding spaces where they shouldn’t be) or wonky paragraphs, tell them in a comment you were already going to send;

If there’s nothing you can do about it, but the idea is too incredible, try writing it yourself. I don’t mean “plagiarize their fic”, just use a similar premise. For the love of all that’s holy, do not bash their fic in your fic. Don’t even mention their fic. Just write yours.

8.8 An author replied rudely/deleted my comment/blocked me from commenting. How should I go about this?

The first thing I have to say about this is: blocking, deleting, unfollowing, muting, etc. are tools. It’s not always personal, or because you were in the wrong. It’s a way to curate our online experience, take responsibility, and avoid seeing upsetting content or people. Sometimes, it’s conflict-free self-preservation.

People online are mostly strangers. Maybe they won’t even tell you if they’re blocking you (deleting, unfollowing, etc.), let alone why. They just do. And so can you. If people blocked more instead of engaging with what they dislike, the internet would be a better place.

On a side note, DNI (Do Not Interact) signs/lists don’t do much to avoid fights or protect you online. If anything, they disclose weaknesses to people who could use them against you. What you want to do is blocking and muting, but I digress.

Second, if you were blocked, deleted, unfollowed, etc. by an author who isn’t your friend, I strongly advise that you don’t try to ask why. Do not PM them about it. Do not send anonymous asks. They had their reasons, even if unhinged, unfair, unjustified, or random. Leave them be. Move on. Perhaps it’d be worse if you found out the reason.

Third, if you and the author have just disagreed, and they ended up being rude, or they were rude out of the blue, there are many ways to approach the situation. Consider:

Can you still comment as a means of talking, or are you blocked?

Did you say anything that could be misinterpreted as rude? Should you clarify it?

If you were rude, accidentally or not, should you apologize? Could you solve the issue just by owning up to your mistake and not making it again?

If you were indeed rude, did it come from ignorance? Could you educate yourself?

If the author was rude first, unjustifiably so, does it taint your image of them? Should you keep reading their works, or following them online? Should you become a silent reader?

Is it worth wasting time and energy on this? Should you just block/mute the author?

Hope you’ve learned something new! Feel free to share this (for free, please).

If you missed the previous parts: Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

#archive of our own #ao3 #fanfiction.net #ffn #wattpad #fanfiction #fanfiction tips #fandom etiquette #feedback #comments #comment culture #psyluna.txt

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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Let Them Talk

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female) ft. Sykkuno

Warnings: Swearing, Jealousy

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Angst

Summary: We can all agree Among Us is a fun game on its own but what makes it ten times better is playing it with the right company. Y/N could agree 100% Being a streamer herself, she loves playing with the streamer gang that includes her boyfriend and best friend. But, what happens when her boyfriend starts doubting her feelings for him due to her close relationship with her best friend.

Requested by @cheetoscat . Thank you so much for your request! Sorry it took so long to write, I hope the final product is worth the wait. Enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

Y/AU/N - Your Among Us Name

I settle in my gaming chair, adjusting my webcam one last time before joining the Among Us lobby with my friends.

“Hi everyone!“ I say into the mic, a smile plastering itself on my face. Discord is a magical thing, man. It’s so easy to forget that the people you are talking to aren’t around you or within arm’s reach. You could be separated by miles and miles of land or - in our case - oceans as well. Distance becomes negligible when you hear your friends’ voices, their laughter; when you have a good time together despite being each behind a screen, often times alone.

Well, I’m one of those lucky ones that isn’t alone. No one knows that, though. Everyone thinks I’m a single, self-employed girl that’s straight out of college. And they are 90% right. Only thing is - I’m not single. That would be a shocker in and of itself, but revealing who’s changed my relationship status would be a bomb with a whole new intensity.

Speaking of my significant other who shall remain unnamed - just kidding, it’s Corpse - his form materializes in the doorway of my recording room. I give him a hand signal the camera isn’t able to capture, alerting him of the fact that my mic is on. He replies by blowing me a kiss and walking off down the hall to his recording room where he’ll be stationed for the next three or so hours.

I owe this relationship to my best friend Sykkuno. I’m a pretty new and not very well known on the platform, however, thanks to him I haven’t only obtained a boyfriend, but a following of a little over million subscribers as well.

It all started with an invitation to fill a spot in the Among Us lobby him and his friends had created. It took him quite a bit to convince me to join, but I eventually caved and agreed. Suddenly, there I was. In a Discord call, in an Among Us lobby with some of the most well-known names on this platform. I’m talking YouTube legends. I was that puppy playing with the big dogs. The newbie tagging along with the big leagues. Or at least that’s how I felt until we all started vibing - talking and teasing each other as though we’ve known each other for years and not minutes.

When I joined the call, Corpse wasn’t present. After everyone else introduced themselves, Sykkuno informed me that we were waiting for Corpse to return. The name sounded really cool to me and I was genuinely very excited to meet this Corpse guy.

And then, out of the blue - no prep, no warning...

��Did you get someone to fill the spot? Oh- Hello, Y/AU/N.“

…he started talking and he had me star-struck. Apparently, he also had me a blabbering mess cause I remember blurting out: “Whoa, who’s this guy speaking in bold and underlined at the same time?”

The entire lobby, including Corpse, laughed. Sean, or Jack like they called him most often, answered my question, “That is the voice of God, Y/N. Its source is named Corpse, though.”

Heat spread from the bottom of my neck to the tips of my ears. I was mortified by my own stupidity. I was well aware they couldn’t see me and I was incredibly thankful for that, but I simply could not get myself to open my eyes. “I’m so sorry.” I said through nervous laughter.

“No, no, I like that description. Bold and underlined at the same time, huh?“ His voice sounded even more pleasant when it had that teasing, mischievous note to it. That thought popping up in my head only made things worse for my self-esteem and only made me more embarrassed, causing me to hide my face in my hands. “You sure it’s not in Italics as well?“

His question got a weak laugh out of me. “Nope, definitely not. Nothing Italic about it.“

Yes, I don’t even know how some terrible jokes about MS Word fonts got me as far as a romantic relationship, but they did! We’ve been living together for quite some time now, dating for even longer - hiding it just as long. It’s not that we have been actively trying to hide it or something, we just wanted to see how long it would take someone to become sus of us. When we realized no one would notice, we decided that if any rumors about us started, or even fans shipping us, we’d come clean. That hasn’t happened either, so we haven’t had the proper chance to address our relationship and neither of us minds.

At this point, I’m honestly afraid of revealing it to the gaming squad. Sykkuno especially. He’s my best friend, after all. I can see him being hurt by the fact that I kept a secret so big even from him. The last thing I wanna do is hurt my best friend but it’s already too late for that, it’s inevitable.

“Y/N have you looked at Twitter today?“ Rae, another streamer I’ve become close with over the months, says urgently.

Overlooking the tension in her words, I answer: “Nope, haven’t had the time. Why? What’s up?“

Before Rae can say anything else, Sykkuno joins the conversation, his voice somehow even more urgent than Rae’s. “It’s nothing, Y/N. If you see it, just don’t let it bother you, ok?”

Hearing such a tone from Rae isn’t unusual, but hearing it from Sykkuno is completely different and a lot more worrisome. “Well if it has the potential of bothering me it can’t be nothing. What’s going on?”

Just then, my phone dings with two notifications. I check to see they are messages from Rae.

“I sent you screenshots. Sorry, Sykkuno. She has to know in order to address it and defuse it as well. I know better than anyone how fast these rumors can spread, especially if no one reacts to them.“ She says, her tone barely apologetic at all.

I open the screenshots she has sent me and I find myself frozen in shock. Some old pictures of Sykkuno and I have been posted on Twitter by some random user. These pictures have started an entire thread of suspicions surrounding our relationship.

The pictures in question are from a New Year’s Eve party a mutual friend of ours held two years ago. Sure, in the pictures we are a lot closer than what would be considered a platonic proximity. And yes one of the pictures is of me kissing his cheek. Yes we were both a bit tipsy. I acknowledge all those things and yet none of them are concrete reasons for these rumors to have started piling.

“This is silly.“ I finally say after maybe five minutes of silence on my end. ”This is absolutely ridiculous! And why are people so serious about it as well? Actual, important matters get discussed more nonchalantly than the potential relationship between two online personalities! What is this world we live in?“ I know I shouldn’t let these rumors get to me like this, especially not on camera. Still, I can’t help it. I feel it’s so unfair to Corpse. He has to put up with this as well and it’s by no means easy for him. I’ve been shipped with people from our group in the past and he always took those rumors to heart despite acting like he didn’t care. Neither of us should get worked up, but him getting upset about them creates a domino effect with my emotions - causing me to be hit just as hard as him, in some cases harder.

Rumors of the past aside, this one is the worst by far. Mostly cause even Corpse himself suspected something between Sykkuno and I at the very beginning, when we were still acquaintances, barely crossing into the realm of friends.

I pull up Twitter to look for the whole thread, barely sparing my stream chat a glance in the process. It seems pretty split - those who agree with me and those who think Sykkuno and I make ‘such an adorable couple’. The thread is ridiculously long, and if we take into account that it was only started approximately five hours ago, you can either view it as impressive, amusing or sad. Why sad? Because someone has dedicated so much time and effort into fueling the fire of a weakly supported theory.

I love Sykkuno with all my heart. Everyone knows that - fandom, streamer squad, Corpse and Sykkuno included. I love too much and too platonically to ever even dream of having a romantic connection with him. I thought that was more than obvious, but people are either blind here, or just grasping at straws. One thing’s for certain - they’re stepping on a nerve.

“Hey where’s Corpse? Did he disconnect?” Felix asks, gaining my full attention. My eyes dart to the monitor, searching through the little avatars in a desperate search for the one of my boyfriend. It’s nowhere to be found.

“He just messaged me saying his connection is unstable but he might join us later.“ Rae says, “You guys can invite someone to fill...“

“Bathroom break.“ I interrupt, not waiting for a response before shutting my mic off, putting the ‘BRB‘ graphic on my stream and yanking the headset off. I basically run down the hall to Corpse’s recording room, my heart pounding like a bass drum.

“Corpse?!“ I call out to him, one hand already on the doorknob. When five seconds pass by without a response, I barge in.

Inside, I find his usual spot on the gaming chair empty and his slumped figure seated on his bed.

“Corpse?“ I try again, watching for even the tiniest change of body language. He remains still as a statue, not bothering to look up at me either.

His hands are gripping the edge of the mattress, his head hanging low. His eyes are covered by the short curtain of his dark messy curls. I can’t gauge much. Is he angry? Is he sad? Both? How should I approach the situation?

Before I find the answer to any of those questions, I am kneeling in front of him, our height difference eliminated. I gently pry his hands off the mattress and take them in mine, holding them firmly but tenderly. With one hand I reach up to tilt his head so his eyes can meet mine. He complies, his tear-filled brown orbs meeting mine. Those tears have the same effect on me as fifty sharp knives stabbing into my chest. These tears focus their attack straight on my heart, tearing it to pieces.

“Baby....“

He cuts me off, “Why is it always someone else, huh? Do they deem me not worthy of being with you? Do they think you deserve better?” His voice wavers, “Well, they might be right. They are correct and there’s little I can do to prove them wrong. They mean you well, Y/N - pairing you with guys better than me. Those are some loyal fans you’ve got. They only want what’s best for you. And so do I. If ‘best’ is being with someone else then...”

It’s my turn to cut him off. I put an end to his nonsense ramble that’s slowly killing me by pressing my finger against his lips. The sternness of my gaze is beyond me as I get up and walk over to his computer setup. I put on his headset and hop into the call as well as the lobby with his avatar.

“Hey Corpse’s back!” Toast says, “Good to have you back buddy.”

“No, not Corpse.” I say in a casual, nonchalant voice.

“Wait, wha-“ Sean’s voice shows just how confused he is, representing the confusion of the entire lobby actually.

“I know all of you are streaming so this message will be heard by several different audiences so I’m gonna make myself perfectly clear.“ I take a deep breath, “Sykkuno and I aren’t dating. He’s a lovely guy and he deserves to find a girl who will treat him right. That girl isn’t and won’t be me though. I am already treating someone right. Someone who treats me more than right as well. An amazing person. A man-child with a heart of gold. You know him, to a certain extent. He goes by the name of Corpse Husband, but I prefer to call him ‘Love of my life’. Thank you for your time and attention, goodbye.“

I exit the call and turn around to find a stunned Copse looking at me.

“That was meant for you just as much.“ I say with a fake strict attitude, one hand on my hip the other rested on his desk behind me, “Were you listening?“

Within milliseconds, he’s on his feet standing directly in front of me, his lips inches away from mine. “I heard and memorized every word. But...” he pauses for a moment, “I think you have no idea how big of a chaos you just created.”

I smile mischievously, “We’ll worry about that later. For now...” I close the gap between us, connecting our lips in a sweet and passionate kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @the-fuck-up-of-today @slashersdream @chiefwombathoagiepizza @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01

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softinkshadows · 4 years ago

Text

Hot spring tales (Hisoka x female reader)

A Hisoka x female reader one-shot, with a sprinkle of Chrollo.

Situated in the HxH universe with canon timeline.

Disclaimer: nsfw, contains smut and explicit sex (but we know you're here for that)

Word count: 5000++ (wow did i just write 5000 words of smutty smut)

----

Pale, slender fingers tap against the phone screen. He finds the contact he is looking for and dials the number, raising the phone to his ear. Around him, dusk settles over the ragged terrain of the Gordeau desert. The wind gains in strength, almost pushing his combed black hair free. The phone rings for a few seconds before the person on the other end picks up.

“Did you figure it out already?”

“Probably,” he says, his grey eyes catching the last wisps of fading light to the west. “The nen exorcist may very well be on Greed Island, which is East of York New. It seems you will need to enter the game as well.”

“Shall I procure one of Battera’s? He did buy all of the ones auctioned this time round.”

“No, that risks complicating things. What we need is a game privately owned by someone who is easily contactable, allows us to stay untraceable, preferably one who we wouldn’t have to kill and is reasonable towards helping…” he trails off, realizing that there is indeed someone who matches the conditions, someone who he would very much like to avoid for the time being… The irony of fate, he thinks, grimacing in irritation.

“It seems we will need to pay a visit to her.”

“Her?”

“I will send the address over to you. It’ll take me at least a day to get there, so you should start moving first. It would be better if you were the one handling negotiations this time round. And avoid mentioning my name, or the troupe’s.”

“Oh?” the voice on the other end piques with curiosity.

“We have… history. I’ll trust that you can strike a deal by the time I’m there?”

“Of course. After all, the chance to fight you is on the line.” He can almost hear the other man smirking gleefully through the phone.

“It’ll be dangerous, so try your best to be good, or our deal is off. Consider this a warning, Hisoka.”

----

You find yourself back at your quarters after dinner, alone in the large dressing room. Looking in the mirror, you arrange your hair neatly around your bun, making sure to tidy it for the next wave of customers tonight.

The underground auction has recently ended, and more people are flocking to your establishment. Kurohasu Onsen (Black Lotus Onsen) is renowned as the gathering-place for anybody who is somebody: a bathhouse that functions as neutral ground for politicians, powerful members of the mafia and hunters who have ties to the underworld to carry out business negotiations. A safe haven for murderers and thieves. All are welcome, although at a hefty price. The exorbitant entry fee is itself a gatekeeper of accessibility, and many have brought treasures and precious artefacts in the hope of gaining your favour. As weapons are allowed for protection, fights inevitably break out, but rarely do they erupt into something serious. All staff at the onsen are strong nen-users who pay close watch to customer behaviour. They have nen-restrainers on hand to subdue feisty ability users, and if not, there’s you, whose mysterious yet formidable presence is enough to elicit compliance. It is not uncommon to see off customers with missing limbs and near-fatal injuries, a warning punishment for breaking the establishment’s regulations. Furthermore, it is the iron-clad rule that the onsen is the one place where truce is enforced, upheld, respected. And you, the infamous proprietor, the black lotus of Kurohasu Onsen, are not someone to be crossed. Your customers are well aware of this.

You get up, ready to leave, when you turn to look at the mirror again. Your black onyx hairpin fits in and across your bun, easily reachable within seconds. Your eyes travel down to look at the black shimmering contours of your silk robe with its ornate floral embroidery, opening at two slits that end above the knee, the garment tied fittingly at the waist with a scarlet obi sash. Presentable, you hum in approval, before walking out the door.

Your secretary Esa is already waiting. “Give me updates,” You demand.

She follows you briskly down the corridor as you make your rounds to greet notable clients. Esa does this every three hours, reciting the list of new guests checked in since the last report, the rooms they booked, the meetings they have arrived for, and the fees paid. You remember everything, noting the ones who offer presents not entirely up to standard, or troublesome ones with a sketchy behavioural record.

“A while ago, a Hisoka Morow checked into the deluxe room. 50,000 Jenny a night for 2 nights, with a possible extension.”

The name catches you slightly off guard. You have never met the man, but from your intel he’s one of the most sought-after fighters at Heaven’s Arena. And a dangerous murderer too. But as far as you know, the man works alone and doesn’t get involved with politics. Why would someone like him be here?

“He has a meeting?” you turn to Esa.

“If he had, he did not say. Most likely for leisure, though. The onsen is famous for its baths too,” replied your attendant matter-of-factly.

You pause for a while to think, before calling over a male security staff with a wave of a finger. “Keep tabs on Hisoka. Let me know if he’s up to anything.” The staff bows and immediately embarks on fulfilling your order. You return to your duties for now, but the seed of suspicion and uneasiness does not go away.

---

“Ahh… now this is not bad,” Hisoka smiles to himself as he climbs into the water. He rests his head against the smooth stone edge of the outdoor bath, watching the steam lift gently from the softly rippling surface. When Chrollo told him about this place, he expected it to be dim and grimy, trawling with underworld scum. Instead, what greeted him was the pure luxury of mineral-rich baths, large clean rooms and 1000 thread-count sheets. He could get used to this. Not to mention…

His eyes wander over the bath, taking stock of the situation. Being quite late at night, most guests have retired to respective meeting rooms for drinks and negotiations, with only a smattering of visitors, mostly individuals or pairs, left lounging in the outdoor section. The only other people are the ever-present security staff, including one particularly persistent male staff standing at the private viewing balcony above. At least the nen users here are stronger than usual. A slight tremor of pleasure runs through his body, and he runs his fingers through his wet hair to shake the feeling before it builds into bloodlust. It’s been a while since he killed. He is still riled up from two days ago, thanks to the blond runt. And Chrollo, that damn bastard.

He observes the nen-users with half-closed eyes. 75… 80… 85… He evaluates. Not too shabby. Then he senses it. 97!! He feels the sudden presence, an impeccable zetsu with a tinge of icy smoothness and fiery calm toiling beneath its surface. It is enough for him to widen his eyes and sit up straight, a hot tingling sensation travelling down his spine, pleasure surging into his body for a split second, almost goading him into a fight right there and then. Well, what do we have here? He looks to the source of this pressure, golden eyes flashing and meeting yours, as you look down at him from the balcony above.

One look and you know he clearly lives up to his reputation. He is suppressing his power by default, but his presence leaves a slight prickling static in the air which only stronger nen users can detect. He also seems to have noticed you, judging by the slight shift his posture, the electrifying gaze beneath his damp red hair and the sudden tension in the air with his nen flaring, almost breaking its zetsu. Despite the distance, both of you lock eyes for a moment, each one feeling out the other, gauging abilities, locating motives. What the hell is his aim? You face the sheer intensity of his gaze with your own cold, calculating glare, both of you guarding your intentions yet attempting to penetrate through the other’s guise, staring each other down as if in a challenge. No one relents. But you can’t help but feel a rising irritation, that the man sitting naked in the outdoor bath three floors beneath you is getting under your skin, and a distracting kind of warmth creeps in... You look away. You nod to the staff to continue strict monitoring and return to your room.

Hisoka watches you leave, and instinctively his fingers run through his hair again, this time harder than the last. Oh, Chrollo… Don’t tell me that’s her? A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Oh, you were right. This is going to be dangerous.

---

You don’t hear any more concerning updates on Hisoka until later the next day. Besides using the baths for extended periods of time, and mild complaints from other guests of his lengthy and uncomfortable stares, he hasn’t caused any trouble. He hasn’t physically contacted anyone either.

“Come again?” you stop abruptly, mid-way through scanning the paper records of this month’s taxes and bills, glancing up at your secretary.

Esa clears her throat and speaks again. “Madam, Hisoka Morow has requested for a meeting with you today.”

Hmph. You scoff a little, your eyes narrowing to ponder the next course of action. You had expected something like this. There is no way someone like him would travel all the way here just to use the baths, let alone without engaging anyone. If his aim is to negotiate matters with you, it must be something quite serious, given that neither of you have gone out of your way to meet with each other previously.

“Shall I cancel?” Esa asks, ready to deliver the order and reject the fool that had the nerve to request a meeting with you on such short notice.

“No. Make it tonight at eleven, after I complete my usual rounds.”

“Understood.”

---

It is night, and the onsen quietens for the day. Only the soft rushes of spring water from the outdoor baths and the muffled sounds of late-night negotiations drift by. You find yourself finally seated across from him in one of your private meeting rooms, both of you silent but never once taking your eyes off each other, quietly assessing one another.

Now up close and clothed in a blue yukata, accentuating the red hair that falls close to his shoulders, you can’t help but find him just a little more attractive than you imagined. His golden eyes are calm, steady, even confident, a rarity for anyone for finds them in a room alone with you. Most people would have bowed their head in submission long ago. You keep your own icy composure. But the force of his nen suppressed under zetsu, his incredibly toned body beneath his yukata and that arrogant way he looks at you make your body feel warmer than usual.

When he sees you for the first time that night, seated on the far end of the room, he feels it again. That powerful presence that keeps goading him, that sends electrifying jolts through his body. You’re seated comfortably on the floor, almost reclining, yet the hard, murderous edge of your gaze shows you are constantly on guard. Simply exquisite. He almost licks his lips but controls himself. A fine opponent… to kill? No, no, much too soon… that would be a waste. Chrollo comes first.

The meeting hall is much too large for two people, spanning over 24 tatami in size. On both sides, paper screen doors open out into an elegant view of the autumn trees in the estate, shedding its red delicately in the wind. A long, low black lacquer table in the center of the room separates you and him, each of you seated on either end. Silence continues to hang in the air. A staff gracefully pours a luxurious blend of sencha into the cups, before she places the tea pot and tray on the floor, bows, and takes her leave quickly. You notice Esa hovering by the doorway to the room.

“Esa, you may go.”

“But Madam-” your secretary protests but stops as you give her a glare. She of all people would understand you’re probably the last person in the establishment who needs any form of protection. As her footsteps recede down the hallway outside, you turn back to the man in front of you.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of meeting you today?”

“It has come to my knowledge,” Hisoka finally speaks, and the slow, sly curl of his tone lights another fire in you, “that you are in possession of one of the most sought-after items in the world of late. I have a pressing need for it and would like to negotiate a deal.”

“I’m a collector of the rarest treasures, so you’re going to have to be more specific,” you scoff, taking a sip of your tea.

“I’m talking about a certain game.”

“Ah, Greed Island,” you retort indifferently, although inwardly puzzled. Why would he go to such lengths just for a game? Didn’t seem like the type. “What makes you think I’ll agree to your request? What is in it for me?”

Hisoka pauses, contemplating something before pushing onwards with a slight smirk. “I’m not sure if you know of a certain man by the name of… Chrollo Lucilfer?”

He waits for the intended effect and sure enough, you react. Immediately, at the mention of the name you’re hit with an unpleasant sensation that makes you grit your teeth, and your eyes blaze with a hint of fury. Without realizing, a cracking sound fills the room as the cast iron tea pot on the floor dents with the force of your nen.

Hisoka looks at the pot quietly before he smiles, lifting the tea cup to his lips, his eyes only growing darker as he trains his gaze on you. Interesting. “May I know, if it’s not too much to ask, the reason for your disdain of the man?”

“I’ve known him for a long time. He tried to kill me twice, once on purpose and the second time by accident. Clearly, he did not succeed,” you say, finishing your tea.

Beautifully exquisite. Another thrill runs through his spine, almost making him tremble with excitement. Perhaps it would be safe to suggest…

“I’m looking for Chrollo. He’s been running from me for a while now, and last I heard he has been spotted hiding out in the game. I would very much like to settle our score soon. Of course, perhaps to your advantage I fully intend on killing him, with pleasure,” Hisoka continues, waving his hand in the air with dismissive complacency.

“If only it were so simple,” you retort, knowing the full potential of Chrollo’s abilities. “And how can I take you for your word?”

“You can’t.”

You look up in mild distaste at Hisoka. What a bastard. You could slit his throat right now, with that cocky expression of his. And yet, your body feels a little hot when he’s looking at you, his gaze ruthlessly penetrating and his nen just on the edge of flaring.

“Name your offer, Hisoka.” You say his name for the first time, aware of how his gaze hardens when you do so, and your body burns with a strange desire which you suppress under the guise of irritation.

“I’m not offering.”

“What?”

“Allow me to use the game, or I will go on to kill everyone in this establishment, including your precious secretary and all your guests. It’s been a while since I had fun and I won’t stop when I do.”

The audacity. You slam your cup on the table and glare at him, your nen bristling beneath the surface. It was a mistake to let him into the bathhouse. And the worst part is that he is right. He could take out everyone except you here with ease, and you’d lose your manpower, your reputation, your business. Everything you worked hard for since leaving meteor city years ago. Perhaps it’ll be wise to dispose of him right here, right now.

In a split second, you draw the long onyx pin from your hair, leaping across the length of the table with such grace and speed that the tea in Hisoka’s cup barely ripples, as you aim for this throat, slicing the air in front of you. He dodges at the last moment, his eyes wild with a feral look as you nick of a few strands of his hair and the sharp edge of your hairpin draws a faint red line along his throat. He grins. He’s clearly enjoying this. He moves to land a counter-attack but you jump away. You’ve put distance between the two of you again; you grip your hair pin, calm and poised for another strike, while he similarly crouches, one hand reaching to stroke the mark you made on his throat.

“Now you’re just getting me excited,” his voice drops to a low purr.

Here you are, seconds after nearly killing him, and you feel your body reacting to his voice and his unapologetic desire. You know you have the power to end him, yet a tingling sensation creeps over the lower half of your body. You can feel sweat starting to gather around your stomach, while another warm wetness pools further below, between your legs. It’s been so long since anyone made you feel this way. Not since… Your thoughts are interrupted as he appears behind you, aiming for your head.

“Pay attention, darling.”

There’s barely any sound in the meeting room as you and Hisoka continue to spar in near complete zetsu, restraining nen to avoid alerting the attention of other guests and the security staff. His eyes gleam more with your every strike, his moves maintain its strength but do not get more forceful, and neither do yours. You feel the exhilaration of the near-misses, of your bodies brushing against one another before pulling away, the light friction of fabric against fabric, as if locked in a graceful dance that neither of you want to end. Moonlight cascades through the open balcony, and there’s a glint in Hisoka’s eyes.

“Let’s stop pretending we’re serious about killing each other, shall we?” he quips with a smirk.

His words register, and you halt. You weren’t noticing it before, but he is right. You weren't trying. You falter for a moment too long. Then he rushes you, pinning your body down onto the floor with his own weight, brute force mixed with excitement to the point that his nails dig into the straw of the tatami below, ripping it slightly. He raises a hand, about to spill your blood, when your control slips. Before, your brief exchanges saw your body feeling hotter, winding tighter as it did more cautious. But now, with him pressing down onto you from above, not pulling away, gripping with a strength that few possess and with a wicked look in his eyes, you can’t keep it down anymore. You let out a throaty moan as his holds you hard, feeling your underwear getting more soaked with every passing second. His eyes widen in surprise, and he pauses. You and him remain quiet like this for a while, the wind from outside gently caressing both your bodies, teasing out an answer.

Then, as if on instinct, both your mouths crash together. Neither of you are ashamed at the pure lust that erupts between the two of you, bloodlust still not completely abating which spurs you and him on even more. His tongue slips into you mouth, determined on stealing your breath, your hand clasped around your hair pin still trapped within his, his ferocious strength barely just surpassing your own as you do not back down, struggling against the restraint. It is still a fight, after all. Yet his other free hand trails down your silk robe, slithering between the open slits to your thighs before raising one of your legs to wrap around his torso. You moan into his kiss and move against his clothed body, desperate for friction.

"Patience, my dear." He pauses, giving you a sadistic grin.

You’re not going to let him keep staying in control. In a surge of strength you topple and roll over him in a flash, slamming him to the floor and stabbing the pin right into the tatami next to his head, at which Hisoka lets out a loud groan. You press and rub yourself against him, leaving small bites along his neck, your hair starting to come loose and fall to the side of your face from the exertion. The warmth between your legs grows, and it’s not just you. Hisoka is only wearing underwear beneath the yukata, and you feel his erection, hot and hard beneath your rolling hips. You feel your own slick starting to run down your inner thigh, and you ache to be filled.

You pull away and gaze down at Hisoka, who’s just starting to get a little breathless with desire, his eyes clouded with lust. You pull the hairpin from the floor and aim it at his throat. You command, your voice cold and edged with arrogance.

“Stop wasting my time and just fuck me already.”

At this, Hisoka lets out a low growl, flipping you on your back, almost tearing the obi around your waist to shreds with his hands. His mouth latches onto your neck and you cry out, as his hands reach under your bra to free your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, alternating between gentle strokes and forceful pinches. Your body shakes with pleasure and you grind against him, your hands fumbling to move his yukata out of the way. You cover your palm over his bulge, which is already straining hard against his underwear. He bites a little harder on your skin as you do, goading you on. You reach beneath the fabric, stroking his most sensitive spot, and you feel him shudder against you. Oh, to have such a powerful man like him at your mercy.

Before you have time to think, your pleasure increases ten-fold, white-hot and surging through your body as his fingers find their way to your slit, obscenely slick with your honey.

“Oh? This wet for me already?” he murmurs into your ear, sending shivers down your arms and making you moan.

He sits back a little, his piercing gaze boring into you as he lifts his fingers to his lips, licking it clean. “So sweet,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving you, almost taunting your state of helplessness before him, and you twitch with pleasure.

“Shut u-” you demand, stopping short with a intake of breath as his tongue circles your nipple and he thrusts two fingers into your aching slit, expertly thrusting, stroking, caressing, hitting all the right spots as you can’t help but moan and fist his soft, red locks. His thumb finds your bud and rubs, with increasing pressure, matching the circling motions of his tongue. Hisoka pulls away and looks down at you, panting and wriggling beneath his touch, your words incoherent but eyes still fierce with power and control, and he finds himself growing harder, unbearably hungry. You feel his desire through his nen, bristling with lust, fingers coaxing you to bliss and eyes ravishing you unabashedly for everything you are and you feel yourself pushed nearer to the edge.

“I’m close,” you gasp, and you see Hisoka smirk dangerously as he pulls his fingers out of you. The pleasure that builds now cuts short, tapering off.

“Kisama,” you mutter in annoyance as you ram his body against the side of the lacquer dining table, pushing him into an upright, sitting position. He chuckles at your urgency and vexation yet remains turned on as you clutch your hairpin over his throat as a warning. His golden eyes are glazed over and quivering, a sign he is properly riled up, his hair now a mess, and his breathing is slightly heavier than before. You pull his large erection free from his underwear.

“You bastard. I’m not going to give you any time.” You growl, and his eyes grow more piercing.

You lower your soaking, aching pussy onto him. The stretch makes both of you groan in unison, and you almost come immediately from his entrance. He is huge in both girth and length, and it takes a while before you’re accustomed to his size. It was so long since you had proper sex with anyone. After he is buried in you to the hilt, you pause, glaring at him with a look aggressive with lust and a need for control. He moans in pleasure and you feel his grip on you tighten considerably. Then you move, slowly first, then quickening your pace, rolling and rubbing against him so his cock enters you at the best angles. His hands reach up to grab your hips, steadying you while he snaps up into you, pounding with such speed it makes your mind go blank with pleasure.

“Ahh-h—h!” you moan, louder this time, shaking with the mounting pleasure as he enters you fast, viciously, more than you can keep up with. You get wetter with each of his thrusts, squelching and slapping sounds filling empty room as he pulls out and fills you completely again with each punishing stroke. You feel yourself nearing your climax, your body swaying and jiggling with the rhythm as your bounce on Hisoka's cock, pressing your fingers harder around his body.

He senses it too, and growls, refusing to take his eyes from yours. You feel his nails rake your hips, grabbing your ass, pain and pleasure intermingling as your near your end. Waves of white-hot pleasure wash over you as you moan into your orgasm, your eyes closed in bliss as you tremble violently, clenching tightly around Hisoka, muttering curses as you come completely undone.

Before you have time to come down from your high, Hisoka pulls out, his rock-hard cock dripping with your honey, before grabbing you and laying you down on the table, towering over you once more. Then he fully sheaths himself inside you in one go, making you cry out at the jolt of oversensitivity as he pushes towards his own end. Using the slick from your orgasm, he goes even faster now, relentless, his hands holding your legs wide apart so he can have unfettered access to you while he slams into you without restraint.

"You like this, don't you? You like being punished like this?" He purrs with forcefulness, a sign he is close, lustful gaze boring into yours while he pummels into you.

You can't help but shudder at his words, but you spit out through gritted teeth. "Don't get cocky. And don't you dare finish inside, or I'll kill you before you are even done."

His control snaps. You feel his cock twitch inside of you. Then he pulls out and comes, moaning with deep satisfaction in your ear, his warm load spilling onto your stomach. After he finishes, you both gaze as each other for a while, barely out of breath, sweat glistening against skin. Your clothes are both in a mess and disarray, his hands are still spreading you wide and bare torso pressed against you as you both bask in the afterglow, sharing a moment to take in the surreal pleasure of what was an extremely unplanned but steaming hot round of sex.

"So with this, do we have a deal?" He breaks the silence with a devious smile.

"I'm not that cheap if you think once is enough." You retort as you clean up, pulling your clothes back on. "At least three more times, with an additional fee of 300,000 Jenny."

"Aren't you a greedy one," Hisoka smirks, tying his yukata back in place. "Alright. It's a deal, not like I'm complaining. I might deliver more than you ask for." His golden eyes travel across your body once more before meeting yours, and you can still see a faint glimmer of lust, ready to be reignited.

"Enjoying yourself?" An icy voice comes from the darkened doorway.

You don't even need to look to know who it is, recognizing the voice immediately. Cold grey eyes gaze at you from a figure leaning against the entryway.

"Chrollo," you almost spit out.

"Ah," says Hisoka naturally, "you're finally here."

You turn to scowl at Hisoka, realizing his blatant lie from earlier. You wonder for a moment how Chrollo even got in to the onsen without your notice, given that him and the troupe remain high up on your guest blacklist. Then you sense his nen, or rather his lack of it, a blur void except for the vague tinge of someone else’s foreign nen around his chest. A contract, then. He's harmless now.

Chrollo steps into the room, dressed elegantly in a black yukata, his hair let down comfortably. "Seems like you taste in men hasn't changed. I took a gamble on that." His steely grey gaze, piercing, calculating and formidable in confidence, still make you tremble a little, despite knowing him for years.

You take a while to understand and chuckle, looking from Chrollo to Hisoka. "Seems like we both got played."

The latter narrows his eyes at Chrollo before running his hand through his hair, sighing. "Well, as expected of him. Again, not like I'm complaining."

"Hisoka, leave us for a moment," you order.

"As you wish." You feel him step out but loiter along the corridor, waiting to pick up on the following conversation. Now it's just you and Chrollo left in the room. He doesn't move closer to you.

"It's been long. Too... long." Chrollo speaks, his voice calm but you detect a tinge of nostalgia, affection, regret and caution all entangled in one.

You know what he means. You can even see it now, the times he drove you wild, nearly killing you with nen. You can see all the times his lips met yours, growing a steady fire with a kiss, his fingers grazing your skin and making you moan and whimper while you grasp his hair tight in your hands, your mind blanking and feeling the universe come apart and stitch right back together...

"You won't be able to handle me now, in your current state. I would break you. It wont be pleasurable for any of us," you reply coolly. You catch the sound of a stifled laugh from the hallway outside. "Once you get your nen back, I just might reconsider."

You stand up, letting your silk robes fall gracefully past your knees once more. You arrange your bun and slip the onyx pin back into your hair.

"You can use the game tomorrow. I'll have it prepared. Tonight, I'll be busy receiving my payment. In full." You pause a little next to him, giving him one last, long look, before walking out the room and towards your quarters, Hisoka trailing behind.

Alone, Chrollo's eyes are deep and unreadable. Unconsciously, his hands are balled into tight fists by his sides. Then he breathes deeply, chuckling to himself.

What a woman. "Hisoka, you'd better get the job done. Fast."

---

Notes: omg this took way longer than i expected to!!! I’m quite proud of this one ;) I got inspired by a mobage card of hisoka, chrollo and the phantom troupe at an onsen and decided to do this imagine piece! Hope you enjoyed my fellow hisoka simps, it was so fun to write ;)

#hisoka morow x reader #hisoka morow #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer #adultrio #adultrio x reader #hxh #hxh imagines #hunter x hunter #one shot

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utilitycaster · 3 years ago

Note

To me the relationship between Ted and Opal is the most important and consitent plot point in EXU. On the other hand everything with the Plateau and the Nameless Ones feels like it builds up something for C3. I think that Matt gave plot points about the state of the world (crater, sigil) and Aabria used it as a jumping off point and created the city as her contribution. So as long as things like the memory loss and the crown are dealt with, I feel pretty good about the story of EXU.

So I deleted another ask that was similarly purely speculative and I just want to say that like...I have open DMs/replies and obviously reblogs, and if you want to actually discuss your opinions that is always a better place; the askbox is for questions and suggestions and, well, things that explicitly invite my input, which I'm going to give anyway but it feels like this could have been a reply. Because I wholly disagree with much of this:

The crater is certainly a pre-existing concept because Thordak's presence in Emon happened, but including the sigil seems very odd given that he is a player in the world and it appearing was a surprise plot point in the second episode; I think the general worldbuilding was "Thordak's crater is here and there's weird magic possibly tied to the fire plane should you wish to use that" (emphasis speculative, and mine).

I am probably least interested in Opal and Ted, or at least, I was, but more so now that at least that pulls in whatever the fuck is happening with Syngorn. I think you might be correct that this will be treated as the main plot in terms of resolution; but the reason I think this is that Opal being central came up in the interviews and because of how the last episode ended. If you don't think the plot is the main plot until episode 7 and external press...that's not good.

I like Opal and Ted's relationship! I think it's fun for the character, in the same way I don't necessarily really think we'll get all the details of who Dorian really is - and that is truly tangential to the plot, despite any curiosity we as an audience may have. But compared to the fact that they open the entire story with memory loss at the crater, being approached by someone high-up in the Nameless Ones, a vestige of divergence, and sigil mysteriously appearing? The fact that the details of Ted no longer being in Byroden appear at the halfway point of the series and the Ted and Syngorn plot is primarily in stingers?

Again, at this point, yeah, that might end being the main plot...but just thinking about this, after episode 1 it seemed the main plot would be "okay we're missing a week and a person, we're in deep with the Nameless Ones, and we have a vestige of such profound power that it makes two people ill." After episode 2 it seemed the main plot was "well we can escape those problems and maybe find out more about this sigil that's possibly tied to the crater/memory loss by talking to Gilmore." After episodes 3 and even 4 it seemed it was "okay, we go to these ruins, come back, resolve the rest." But we keep getting balls thrown in the air - further mysteries about Ted, the people from Syngorn, Niirdal-Poc still existing, the journey to the Iron Authority instead of returning home - and none of it has been resolved, and again, I'm enjoying myself, but that is because everything other than the plot is great so I'm treating this like those big-budget artistic sci fi movies where you're like "the aesthetic and worldbuilding and acting and dialogue is all incredible and the plot falls apart if you breathe on it a little too heavily."

I was talking to someone about this recently who made the point that the party seems to have missed a lot of checks early on that might have introduced the Ted and Myr'atta plot back in Emon and honestly? forcing one of those checks or giving it for free would have made a world of difference; I think the party would have made far different choices that in turn would have significantly tightened up the plot. And you don't need to do that, in a long-running campaign, but you really, really do in an 8-episode series.

I do want to speak to people talking about this setting things up for C3 because that was in the anon ask I deleted: I'm not saying it doesn't, necessarily, but I think there is a big difference between "C3 may, understandably, deal with some of the consequences of things that happen in EXU. much as it will deal with consequences of C1 and C2, because it's the same world" and "EXU is explicitly leaving threads for C3".

The former I absolutely agree with; that's how shared worldbuilding works and it was the case with C1 for C2. The latter is, I think, a wildly unfair expectation to place Aabria and a terrible marketing choice for the series and bodes ill for future seasons of EXU.

EXU was very much put forth as having appeal for people who, understandably, don't have the time or inclination to watch a 100+ episode series. I have already seen reviews criticizing it for relying on past information; while I don't agree with this completely, given the difficulties with the plot this does, for example, feel like it may ring true for people who have no emotional connection to Gilmore. A tighter, more Emon-focused plot that happened to include Gilmore to the same extent (or even greater) would probably not have the same criticism, but as is, I think viewers unfamiliar with C1 may legitimately be saying "why did we spend time on this."

EXU can have threads that can be picked up with in C3 - it does not need to, for example, resolve every detail of the Nameless Ones, only the status of this party with regards to Poska - but to say "and to know what happens about the major event, in Emon, which is tied to Thordak, ie, how the series was marketed, which was introduced to the audience long before Myr'atta, you need to watch C3" is something I'd consider a serious misstep. The story in EXU should be somewhat self-contained, with the consequences of that self-contained story fueling the plot; it should not be a collection of plot points for a later day. That's not just going to alienate potential viewers of future seasons who don't intend to watch full CR campaigns; it's kind of a shitty thing to do to your guest DM, to say "oh throw to me, you can DM in my world but you need to set up for my show even if it makes your plot seem more unfocused". EXU can and should be thought of as its own show in the same world, not a mere appendage to the flagship.

I'm still withholding final judgement until it can, you know, be final. I think there's a still a chance I am very pleasantly surprised! As mentioned I and much of the fandom had doubts about the campaign 2 finale to the point that some people were writing, as I referred to it at the time, vivisections and calling them post-mortems. I disliked it then and I disliked it now and I will reserve judgement on EXU's plot structure on the whole until after the finale; I am just saying that while it may end up standing quite well as a complete story in the end, the pacing has felt increasingly off to me since the midway point and if this is just setup for C3 I think that makes it worse, not better.

#critical role #critical role spoilers #exandria unlimited

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sour--disposition · 4 years ago

Text

Angel

this is part two to “End of The Road”

part one

callum airey x fem!reader

please check my masterlist to see if my requests are open

(gif from the lovely @behzynga)

The first few months were tough. Your mental health spiralled initially and it took the girls rallying around you to keep you afloat. Waking up became a chore, tasks as simple as brushing your teeth were hard, but not as hard as getting up to take a shower.

They let you stew in your sadness for a short while, knowing that nothing they could do would make things better in the short-term. They settled for keeping you company, eating in your room so you felt included, inviting you even though everyone knew you would turn them down.

Until you didn’t.

Slowly but surely, you started to come back out of your shell. You deep cleaned the spare room that Freya and Josh were still letting you bunker down in, brushed your hair out properly and showered for what could’ve been an hour. When Freya came in to ask if you wanted a coffee, she found you cross legged on the bed, scrolling through a job-searching site. “Hey”, she smiled, sitting next to you, “this is nice to see”. Freya looked over your shoulder at what you were doing. “I’m proud of you”, she said quietly.

Freya helped you sort through the job openings, ending up with you sending your CV off to at least 15 different companies that had positions that you were qualified for. “It’s not much, but it’s a start”, you shrugged.

“Y/N, two weeks ago you cried because the pizza man had the same colour hair as him, now you’re applying for jobs and looking at flats and thinking about your future. It’s massive”, Freya told you with a massive smile painted across her face.

“Do you think we could do something to celebrate?”, you asked. “Drinks or something. I’ve not seen any of you properly for so long and I want to be the one to offer the invitation for once”, you said lightly. Freya grinned, telling you that it was an amazing idea.

You grabbed your phone, creating a group chat to add the girls and the troops (minus Harry).

me: a night out soon? miss you guys x

Freya’s phone buzzed against the duvet cover and you heard Josh’s chime from somewhere in the flat. Replies started coming in almost straight away.

big josher: 100%

talia 🐠: yes yes yES!

nelly welly: will said can the eboys come

nelly welly: also yes ofc

Plans were soon being made, with everybody agreeing almost instantly. A weight that had settled in your chest was alleviated almost instantly. An irrational fear that everyone would want you gone had clouded your judgement after what had happened with Harry.

Within the next week, you’d heard back form over half of the jobs you’d applied to, all of them wanting to see you as soon as possible for an interview. You’d also been given a few dates to view flats nearby, one was in the same building as Josh and Freya, another in the same building as Gee and Will and another in the same building as Ethan.

The girls, and a few of the guys, had offered to come with you to some of the viewings, offers which you took up without hesitation. After all, they had all gone flat hunting in London before, you hadn’t.

“Y/N”, Freya yelled from down the hall. You poked your head around the door, seeing Cal stood awkwardly by the door.

“You could’ve just texted me, I’d have come down. You didn’t have to come all the way up”, you told him, already making your way over to pull some shoes on.

“If I texted you, it’d have taken you at least 10 minutes to get down. Hurry up, we’re gonna be late”, Cal told you, poking at your side. You could hear Freya laughing from the kitchen at what Cal had told you.

As soon as you got back from viewing the flat, both Freya and Josh were hounding you about Cal. Okay, it was mainly Freya. You just sat in front of them, eating your pasta and trying to ignore what Freya was teasing you about.

“It’s okay, y’know”, Freya said, all of a sudden taking a serious tone. You raised your eyebrow at her in confusion. “It’s okay to like Cal, even after what happened”. You almost spat your food at her as you choked over her words.

“I don’t know what you mean”, you spluttered. You could already feel your cheeks turning a traitorous red.

“Even I can see it”, Josh chucked from beside Freya. “You deserve to be happy, though. Just make sure you do it on your own terms and in your own time”, he told you seriously.

That night, as you laid in bed, you opened your phone and pulled up the text thread between you and Cal.

me: i’ve put the deposit down on the flat from the today

cal: happy for u, have you told josh and freya

me: ofc probably gonna start moving my stuff as soon as i get the keys

me: shouldn’t take long lol i dont have much

cal: do you want help?

me: from you?

cal: no from harry

cal: ofc from me you spanner

cal: sorry, probably the wrong thing to say

Before you had chance to reply, a goofy picture of Cal was filling your screen and the shrill of your ringtone was filling the room. “Sorry”, Cal said instantly, regret written all over his face.

From the low light in his room, you could tell that he was in shirtless in bed, probably with only the bedside light on. He looked cozy, pillowed on a mountain of cushions and cocooned in a plush looking duvet.

“It’s fine”, you told him, rolling over to flick the lamp next to you bed on. “It- It still hurts, obviously, but it’s getting better, I guess?”, you admitted.

“I’m glad”, Cal murmured. “Glad you’re moving, too, and that you’re getting job interviews. You deserve to be happy”. You couldn’t help but smirk at the similarity to what Josh had said earlier on. “What?”, Cal asked you.

“Just something Josh said earlier, about deserving to be happy”, you said softly. Cal raised an eyebrow, indicating that you continue. “About moving on from what happened, finding someone else if I want to but only when I’m ready. That sorta spiel”, you told him as you rolled your eyes jokingly, hoping Cal wouldn’t look to close into what you were saying.

“And? Do you want to?”, Cal asked. You could tell that although his words were saying one thing, his tone was saying something completely different. Suggesting something completely different.

“I mean, I still need to make sure I’m somewhere good. It’s not fair to anyone that I start something I’m not ready for”, you said, trailing off slightly at the end.

“I sense a ‘but’“.

“Harry did some serious damage, Cal”, you whispered brokenly. “He was the first person I’ve ever truly loved. I don’t know if that will ever go away, the hurt. It’s like it’s burned into me. I can still see how angry he was when he blamed me and how angry he was when he saw you”, you muttered. Your eyes had glossed over slightly and your throat had tightened under the grip of your emotions.

“I know, angel. But the right person will help you with that, yeah? You just need to find someone who’s in it for the right reasons, with you for the long run”, Cal assured you.

“Thanks, Cal. Love you”, you whispered into the low light of your room.

“Love you, too, Y/N”.

#calfreezy imagine #callum airey imagine #calfreezy #callum airey #sidemen of the sidemen #sidemen imagine #uk youtube imagine #uk youtube #sidemen #harry lewis #talia mar #gee nelly #freya nightingale #josh zerker

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distinguishedstudentcat · 4 years ago

Text

OK. This one is serious and SnB stans pls don't just let this slide. Also istg if ANYONE attacks the OP you're a piece of shit.

Here's a link to a thread calling out the cast for questionable actions and certain casting decisions. https://twitter.com/zhongsliang/status/1373398506841518086?s=19

And the above are the screenshots.

Alt Text because it's too long:

[Screenshot 1: the shadow and bone show really was checking off a bingo for the worst casting ever... making jesper lightskin, casting a skinnier actress for nina, freddy carter trying to make a disability "look smoother", zoya actress supporting all lives matter and jessie defending her...]

[Screenshot 2: Tweet 1 - ah not to mention the comments on jesper's sexuality... but of course nobody cares because no matter how many times people call out this awful show the fans will continue to ignore it and praise the actors.

Tweet 2 - eric what's his face should learn how to shut the hell up already. incredible how they can claim to "care about diversity" and then they seemingly either ERASE that diversity or mess it up. i wish this show a complete flop.

Tweet 3 - oh yeah stop acting like jessie mei li didn't defend sujaya like their life depended on it. every day i see another tweet talking about how pretty she is and how amazing she is. there's nothing amazing about literally condoning all lives matter you complete morons.]

[Screenshot 3: ah last addition but it's so funny how some people care more about calling cast members ugly than the cast members literally being bad people... you guys formed a STORM over people calling freddy ugly but it was silence when he made ableist comments? shut up.]

I didn't know about most of these. And imma presume most of y'all didn't either, so this is just FYI and I'm not quite fit to talk about it. Reminder not to put ANY CELEBS on a pedestal, to call them out when they fuck up. I'm not gonna try to police what you wanna like and enjoy, but pls be aware of the media you consume I guess...?

Going forward I honestly dunno what to do. I'm sorry for my many posts stanning certain cast members, especially if said posts hurt anyone. Anyhow I'll pirate the show...

IMPORTANT EDIT!!!

Thank you to @greenbriarc for updating me on the situation! ❤ Firstly all this happened a year ago! Eric has since apologized for his badly worded statement. According to SOME reviews, Jesper is a great rep for the bi community. HOWEVER many bi fans disagreed and personally as a biromantic, I don't like it either. Also I would like to emphasize this is NOT to cancel the cast just to hold them accountable if they mess up like in Jessie and Freddy's case. I understand that with Kit and Danielle it wasn't their fault, but it still kinda hurts I guess. Again, I'm not trying to police anyone's interest and am a strong supporter of the nobody's fav is completely unproblematic mindset. I just wanna remind to NOT put them on a pedestal and when need be, hold them accountable. 😊😊😊 If my original post made it sound like the cast or producers had committed unforgivable wrongdoings and had to be canceled for the rest of forever I apologize 😔

Oh yeah here's a link to another in which the person whose post Sujaya commented on said Sujaya apologized in private and they're now on friendly terms!!! 😆

#shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone #grishaverse #the grishaverse #the grisha trilogy #the grisha series #call out post #/srs btw

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the-bjd-community-confess · 3 years ago

Text

More Divaz confos

Mod: Round two of these, previously: link. There’s some interesting customer reviews in this batch (5 and 8) which may be useful to readers.

1.Vic3mage "the secret bjdivaz vip group is just pictures of boxes coming in and going out". Yeah, between the bitching about d0llshe, asking people to post on doa for them, dunking on ex-customers, posting pics of random doll parts that they can't identify which doll they're supposed to go with, whining about how little money they make, whining when ppl e-mail them, whining. Yeah, other than that it's just boxes, and alpacas u can buy off amazon anyway lol.

~Anonymous

2.The butthurt users crying and guilttripping under every Divaz confession who have never been seen before elsewhere on this blog are extremely unsuspicious and unproblematic and definitely unconnected to Divaz and unbiased in every possible way

~Anonymous

3.idk shit abt bjd1vas but v1cemage i can absolutely tell you the shit about ch0o is 100% accurate, fucker's got a long, long history of being an awful little man that stretches well beyond his involvement in the doll community. between the two i'd still trust bjd1vas over ch00 ch00 the fool any day!

~Anonymous

4.The Z3st and Div4s thing is really silly and both entities were being shady but did they really have to take the DZ waiting room down with them? :( He had even made a separate thread about it......

~Anonymous

5. RE: BJD Divaz

I’ve been a customer of BJD Divaz since they first started, when it was only run by Chart3rline. I even contacted other BJD companies trying to persuade them to work with Divaz as their US representative. Most declined because they didnt like D's commission fee, but I was able to persuade a few of them.

I asked them to purchase a doll off DOA because I couldnt afford the asking price, and while they did, I found out later that instead of agreeing to purchase the seller's price, they negotiated the price to be lower. This significantly cheaper price was not passed down to me. I paid the full price +the commission fee based on that full price. I am disappointed I was not told this. This is when I stopped viewing them as a "friend" and instead, as a business. I dont hold this against them, it’s context to what Im going to say later.

I’ve stopped purchasing from D after my recent order from them. This company usually takes 3 or less months to make a doll. I’ve ordered the doll from D and it took 11 months. They let me know it arrived to them in March and that it will be shipped soon, except it only shipped on July, and only after I sent them several "reminder" emails. Before people in the comments try to put the blame on me for not sending a reminder soon, please keep in mind that I acknowledged the email in March and confirmed everything and they keep stressing to not send them emails because they are busy, I’ve emailed once every month since. I’ve since switched to ACBJD and Ive been happy with communication and the dolls ordered. I imagine ACBJD gets the same amount of emails, but they dont berate their customers if they email more than once.

I regret when people wanted a D0llshe, but not deal with him, I always recommended D. I would warn people of ordering directly and instead go through D. They assured buyers they would be handling communication and all the efforts so they wouldnt worry, except they didn’t. A person that I’ve recommended D to, who surpassed 2 years, keeps messaging me for help because D wouldnt reply to their emails. She is respectful, sweet and a timid person, not a Karen. This person, emailed D without a reply so would email a week later, only to be told that their email would be pushed down to the bottom if emailed again. No response, so she goes to FB and IG, who both tell her to email because they arent the person running orders. Finally got a response that they would get their refund, after D0llshe sends D's payment, but minus the PP fees. 3 months later and theres no refund, only a promise of them getting it later. Why is the customer missing out on fees when they have no doll? Customer emails d0llshe and he says he cant offer refund, because they didn’t order through them, which is understandable, but when all options are out for a customer, do you blame them for chargebacks?

If anyone files a chargeback, D will be blacklisting them from every company they rep, as in blacklisting you from buying direct from those companies. I urge everyone who has negative experiences with D to email the companies they rep instead of venting on confession blogs, and writing your experiences on social media. Make it count and send letters to the companies they represent, and please provide proof because they will try to make you out to be a liar.

Speaking of, they made vague posts on cl0ver singing for charging paypal fees, and that they offer guarantees as an official dealer, except when offering refunds, to non delivered products I might add, they are keeping the fees, and offered no help with d0llshe, even before they ended their dealership with them. Someone on DOA was told to not email them unless the wait time surpassed 1.5 years. They are even so petty that they post screenshots with the full name and address (dox) of the customer on purpose and then delete it out a day later as if they just realized their "mistake".

Before you try to make excuses for them about the fires, keep in mind, I am dealing with a business. The lower price negotiation with the DOA sale, I am in no way obligated to give them a pass or treat them as a friend when they made it clear that our relationship is strictly business. Their issues, are not my issues. D0lk got dragged for not shipping in time, others, including artisans, got dragged for being so late with communication and sending back refunds for cancelled orders. Why does D get to be exempt?

The supporters are the worst part of this, because of instead of being honest so D can improve, they support them for being "real". For example, look how micemage words it, to make it seem like this criticism is from one person, when there are people on addicts who didn’t have good experience. Check the bjd dealers tag here, you will see the supporters in the comments going off on any and all criticism of D. Some have sane comments, but the majority are cult like and try to identify the person venting as if it’s one person. Addicts deletes threads with criticism asking people to instead direct it to their feedback group; which lets be honest, no one is going to do because its "not that bad", and most dont want to join a new group, which is mostly dead.

This is my first and last confession on D, I’ve emailed each company they rep and told them my experience as well as contacting the 3 month wait company, with screenshots of my order, how they handled it, and the excuse they used to put blame on the company for being so late (package arrived march to D, 4 months to be shipped is on D, not the company). I’m not using company or order details because I know they are petty enough to try to identify me and publicly shame me like they have to others. This and the threat of suing is why not many people like to go public with their experience. They just keep feedback neutral, move on and never deal with again.

~Anonymous

6. Listen, I can't take you seriously in regards to BJD!vas because you're posting on a confession blog. If you were serious, you would have posted in buyer beware groups, DoA reviews or the board to get things resolved, or you would have made a complaint to the BBB. And your language makes you come off more as someone with an agenda rather than someone who is trying to warn people. If shipping is the issue, stop buying with standard shipping and pay the extra price for express shipping. I saw one of you complain that it sat with them for 20 days; that's probably because you're not the only one and they more than likely have a queue to check and then ship out. Do mistakes happen? Yes, because we're human. I've been in this hobby for a few years now and it seems like most people know you're going to have to wait, sometimes even outside the expected wait time. And shipping something as big as a doll is a timely endeavor. I shouldn't have to say that.

My point is simply to stop complaining on an confession board and either take it to the places previously mentioned. Posting here behind the anonymous mask makes you sound like a petulant child who didn't get their way right away.

~Anonymous

7.My only issue with BJD Divaz is how I never get any updates. Every email, they tell me to join their facebook page for status updates. I dont have a FB and I dont want to create one. I bought my doll through their website, updates should be posted on their website, or they could send me an email. That isnt asking much.

~Anonymous

8. Since there seems to be a lot of either "completely negative everything sucks" or "everything was sunshine and rainbows" confessions about bjd!vaz I thought I'd chime in with a neutral review.

PROS

-They were always polite and professional in their emails, and gave me very detailed answers to my questions.

-I got exactly what I ordered, so no mix ups or missing parts or anything like that.

-I think them being forthcoming about personal issues (only one person on staff, illness, the flooding isue etc.) on social media is good, since it keeps customers updated as to why there might be delays.

-If you live in the US their shipping is very reasonable.

CONS

-Reply times were varied. Sometimes it could take over a week, sometimes a couple hours.

-My order took about 10mo which, when comparing to other people who ordered through the same company around the same time, was about 3x as long as if I bought it direct and 2x as long if I had gone through a different dealer. I get some of the waiting time is out of their control, but it was kind of ridiculous.

-They dont necessarily ship the same day they send you a tracking number. I wish they said something like, "Here's your tracking number, our pickup is Xday so it should start moving after that" just so I could be aware.

All in all no major complaints. I got my doll and all that. Their lone employee is clearly overwhelmed. I hope they hire another person, if only to give the one a break.

Truthfully, I most likely won't buy through them again. I'd rather pay the international shipping and go direct, than deal with the extensive wait time. I'd still recommend them to someone looking for a very long layaway, though. I paid in full, but if I had a 12mo layaway I would've never known they weren't ready to ship my doll until month 10.

~Anonymous

#BJD #ABJD #BJD Confessions #TrueBJDConfessions #BJD Dealers

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thewickedkings · 4 years ago

Text

Between the Two of Us ~ Chapter 6

Masterlist || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Summary: Jurdan High school AU. Rivals Jude and Cardan are forced to partner up for a history project, and drama ensues. Filled with banter, pranks, an unhealthy amount of pining, and Jude being clueless as usual.

Trigger Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything so far, but please let me know if there’s anything I missed!

~~~

Jude blinked. And then blinked again. But Cardan was still standing at her door, holding a bouquet of red roses, very much real. Under her confusion, a distant part of her felt a surprising flutter of warmth.

She opened the door hesitantly and was greeted with Cardan’s scowl. He was dressed in jeans and a simple white T-shirt that somehow made his already attractive features stand out even more. His sharp black hair fell over his forehead in tantalizing waves. With the roses in hand, he looked like a heartbreak waiting to happen.

Jude opened her mouth, unsure of what to say, but he interrupted.

“Don’t worry. They’re not from me.” He shoved them in her arms like they had burned him. Clearly, the idea of giving her flowers completely repulsed him.

“I- okay. Hi to you too.” She stepped back to let him in, and his jaw ticked. “Someone clearly woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

He stepped in and Jude shut the door behind them. When she turned back to Cardan, she found him looking at her expectantly. She ignored him and walked to the kitchen, resisting the urge to check the note attached, even though she had a feeling she knew who they were from.

“Want anything to drink?”

“No,” he replied bluntly.

Jude pursed her lips. “Okay then.” Clearly, he wasn’t in a cooperative mood. She sighed. “So, I figured we could compare our research to see what-”

“Are you going to put those in a vase?” Cardan interrupted.

She glared at him. “Are you going to be like this the whole time?” But she stood up and went to the pantry to get a vase.

She felt Cardan’s gaze on the side of her face as she filled the vase up with water and put it on the counter, but he didn’t speak. The only sound was the steady drip of the faucet into the sink. She picked up the bouquet, inhaling the fragrant scent of the roses. Before she put them into the vase, she untied the note and read it.

For Jude. Yesterday was fun. We should do it again.

She bit her lip to stop the giddy smile that threatened to break free. Nobody had ever bought her flowers before.

Cardan cleared his throat, irritation edging his voice. “Are we going to do this or not?”

“You’re the one who asked me to put these in a vase,” she mumbled. She flopped onto the bar stool next to him, annoyed.

She opened her laptop, clicking through to open her research. “Like I was saying before you interrupted me, we should compare our research and see what we’ve got.”

“Right, okay.” He ran his hand over jaw, easing the tension in it. “By the way, they’re going to display the best project on the school website, so we might have to up our game.”

Jude’s head swiveled back to Cardan. “What? Since when? Why didn’t you tell me right when you got here?”

“I was a bit preoccupied.”

Jude narrowed her eyes. “Wait, how do you know?”

He smirked, some of his earlier mood dissipating. “I have my sources.”

“I don’t trust your sources,” Jude shot back.

Cardan leaned back, arms stretching behind his head. “Fine then. Don’t believe me. When Taryn and Locke have their project on the website, don’t come crying to me.”

Jude paused momentarily. She’d forgotten Taryn and Locke were partners. Something niggled in the back of her mind, a thought that wasn’t fully formed. “You think they’d actually win?”

“Locke will try if he knows I… if he knows we want to win.”

After the date, Jude had conveniently forgotten that Locke and Cardan knew each other. She felt the strange compulsion to keep them separate in her mind. “Okay, so say this is actually true.”

Cardan scoffed. “If you really must know, I heard my father talking about it. He’s on the board, and it’s one of the publicity tactics or something to make the school look better. They need to show off for the donors.”

Jude looked up, surprised. “Oh, okay. I didn’t know your father was on the board.”

Cardan shrugged and redirected the conversation. “If we want to win, we better start working.”

“Don’t worry. We’re winning this.”

“I’m not worried.” The quick, playful grin he sent her startled her, and Jude wondered what they could do if they actually worked on the same side for once.

Jude paused. “Wait, why do you want to win so badly?”

Before he could answer, the garage door opened, and Madoc entered. Jude stiffened in surprise, not expecting her father to be here while her and Cardan were home. She felt weird introducing them, and she didn’t want her father making any assumptions about the two of them like he did with any guy Jude mentioned.

Jude cleared her throat. “Um, Father, this is Cardan.”

Cardan stood up from the barstool, and Jude watched in awe as Cardan transformed into a gentleman, politely introducing himself and ending each sentence with sir.

“Ah, Eldred’s youngest son. You stay with Balekin now?”

Cardan’s smile wavered but remained intact. “Yes, sir.” She couldn’t help but notice the stiffness in his posture, a sort of rigid tension that Jude couldn’t quite place.

Madoc gave Jude a nod. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it.” He walked into his office and shut the door behind him.

An awkward silence descended over them, until Cardan broke it. “So… you call your dad… Father?”

She didn’t feel like explaining that he wasn’t actually her father, and that their real parents had died in a car crash, so she didn’t. “Yeah, well, dad always seemed too…” she trailed off, shrugging.

“Close?” Cardan supplied, and she nodded. “Yeah, I get that.”

She resisted the temptation to ask him why, but it felt too personal, and it wasn’t like they were friends. Instead she shoved his shoulder. “What was that? I didn’t know you could be a gentleman? All yes, sirs, and of course sir.”

For a second, he blinked and Jude could have sworn she saw a blush on his neck. But then he leaned closer to her across the barstools, almost challenging. His eyes darted to her hand, which was still on his arm, before they flitted to the vase on the counter and then back up to her eyes.

“I can be a decent human sometimes.” He smirked, adding, “But certain people bring out the worst in me.”

Jude’s retort died on her tongue as he leaned further into her space. Cardan’s gaze probed into hers, searching, and her breath caught in her throat.

Heat rushed up her neck, her senses heightening in anticipation of…

A thud sounded from her father’s office, and Jude quickly pulled away, berating herself. What the hell was that?

Cardan swallowed and averted his gaze, his hand flexing. When he spoke, his voice was low. “You never came to any of my parties. There’s one on Saturday. You should come.”

Jude was too surprised by the sudden change in topic and the earnest tone in his voice, so she said, “Okay.”

The serious expression in his face disappeared immediately. He grinned down at her, wiggling his eyebrows. “Okay?”

Jude scowled. “I’ll be there. But only because I owe you.”

Cardan laughed, and any remaining tension dissipated. “Don’t worry. I’d never think otherwise.”

“Come on, let’s just finish this stupid project,” Jude grumbled, but felt the corners of her lips lifting up into a smile.

~~~

The next week was stressful, to say the least. By Wednesday, Jude was ready to pass out and call it a week. Her physics quiz that morning had been draining, and she had barely finished before the end of class. After that, she had a presentation in her literature class that she had just barely fumbled through.

Jude walked to her locker, rubbing her temples to sooth the dull ache growing there. She was surprised to see Locke waiting for her. The few times she had seen him in school over the past week were in passing smiles in the hallways. She hadn’t been sure if she should text him to thank him for the flowers or if she should approach him,

Now, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Jude winced, but quickly covered it with a smile. Her head throbbed, and she didn’t have the energy to sort out why she didn’t like his touch right now.

“Hey, you get my flowers?”

“Yeah, thanks. I loved them.”

Locke’s eyes flitted over her shoulder and then back to her. “No problem.” He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair that had escaped from her ponytail. “Can I walk you to class?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Locke wrapped his arm over her shoulder possessively, pulling her to him.

Jude was awkwardly conscious of his arm around her shoulder and the glances people gave them in the hall. Something about his actions felt unnatural, almost forced. Or maybe she was projecting her own feelings onto him. They’d only been on one date, and she didn’t feel fully comfortable with him yet.

When Jude got to her last period study hall, she quickly slid out from under his arm, mumbling a quick “thanks,” before entering her class.

Study hall was basically an hour to work on any of your assignments before school let out, and Jude spent the class with her headphones in, head resting against her arm. She knew she probably should get some assignments done, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

When the bell rang, Jude made her way to the gym next to the soccer field to get ready for practice. Her headache had thankfully subsided, and she threaded her way through the parking lot.

“Hey,” a voice said from behind her.

Jude was surprised to find Nicasia quickly walking to catch up with her. “Hi?”

Nicasia rolled her eyes. Her black hair was up in a messy bun, the ends died an ethereal blue. She slung her backpack over her shoulder and fell into step next to Jude. “I figured we could walk to practice together, since we do have the same class last period.”

Jude blinked. “Um, okay. You weren’t exactly being friendly when you ignored me on the field and tried to shoot an impossible goal instead of just passing.”

Nicasia shrugged. “I was just pissed because I heard Locke talking about you, and I probably shouldn’t have taken it out on the field.”

“Great apology.”

Nicasia rolled her eyes again. “Shut up.”

“So wait… you and Locke dated?” Last she knew, Nicasia and Cardan were together. She really needed to keep up with the school drama.

Nicasia nodded. Something in Jude’s face made her add, “Don’t worry. I ended things with him for a reason. It was great at first, until I realized he was just using me to get at Cardan.”

Jude paused, suddenly reevaluating everything she knew about Locke, and wondering why Locke would want to get at Cardan. Jude was instantly curious if it had worked.

Nicasia sighed and played with a loose strand of hair. “Look, I know this might make me seem like a jealous ex, but Locke… he likes drama. He likes to create drama. I saw him with you in the hallway today, and despite our differences, I don’t want you to get in caught in it.”

Jude didn’t know what to make of this information, but Nicasia seemed to be genuine. Something about her date with Locke had felt… a little too perfect. Then, she hadn’t thought it was a bad thing, but now she felt as though she had been played. “Thanks for the warning, I guess.”

Nicasia opened the door to the gym. “I wish someone had given me one, but I should have known better.” They both silently entered their separate changing rooms to put on their soccer gear.

Jude’s thoughts wandered as she slipped out of her jeans and into her soccer shorts. Even though she did enjoy their date, she realized she didn’t really know Locke. What Nicasia said about Locke could be true, and if it was, Jude absolutely did not want to take things further with him.

Jude found she wasn’t as disappointed as she should be at the thought. Besides flirting with each other, they didn’t really have anything in common that connected them. If she really thought about it, she knew whatever was between them wasn’t going to last, and that it mainly for fun. Yes, the first date went pretty well and she loved the attention, but what about after? She wasn’t very good at relationships in general, and she was bound to do something wrong.

When Jude came out, she silently sat next to Nicasia on the bench next to the lockers. Jude leaned down to slide her foot into her cleats, and her foot came in contact with a warm goeey substance. She yelped, pulling her foot out of her shoe.

“What?” Nicasia asked. She snorted when she saw the green sludge on Jude’s sock. “Oh.”

Jude groaned. “Ugh, Cardan. I knew he was planning something.”

Nicasia gave her a long look, tying her hair back into a ponytail, and then getting up and getting her napkins. “You two are still doing this?”

Jude wondered just how much Nicasia knew about their prank war as she cleaned out the inside of her shoe as much as she could. Despite her best efforts, some of the sludge remained stuck to the bottom. “I mean, if one of us stops, it means the other person wins. And I can’t let him win.”

“You’re both idiots.”

Jude laughed, shrugging. “As long as I beat him, I don’t care.”

Nicasia stood up, flicking her ponytail over her shoulder. “When you two finally get together, I’m going to throw a party.”

Jude sputtered. “What? We’re not- he doesn’t- what?”

“Uh huh, right.” Nicasia smirked as she walked to the door. “See you on the field.”

Jude scowled as Nicasia shut the door of the gym behind her, leaving Jude in silence. Why did Nicasia think her and Cardan would ever… get together? Jude shook her head, and opened her gym bag to find her headband. A piece of paper fluttered out, and Jude picked it up. There was no name on it, but once she read it, she knew exactly who it was from.

Have a “sensational” time at practice. See you on Saturday.

~~~

A/N: Hehehe sorry for getting your hopes up with the last chapter but this is going to be a slowwww burn. We did get to see jealous CardanTM though 😌

Sorry for the long wait! My school just started again this week and my attention span is exactly 0.02 seconds after quarantine lol. I’m so excited for the next chapter! Let me know what you think in the comments :)

Tagging: (Bolded tags didn’t work. I don’t know why, it might be your settings or just tumblr acting up, but I’ll tag you in the comments for now! If I forgot to tag you our messed something up, just send me an ask and I’ll fix it as soon as I can!)

@jurdan7 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @amoosewithflannelforfur @aneuwin @mercrutiodidntdieforthis @hizqueen4life @mi-mavencalories @simonelovesff @b00kworm @nope-has-lied @andromeddea @aesthetics-11 @queen-of-glass @runnybabbit9 @afexiss @the-keen-queen @yesimtheslytherinwitch @fizziefaerie @abigneignenn @storiesandschemes @aelin-queen-of-terrasen@words-of-the-wise @thedazzlingheights @magicalbookwyvern @kittkatandbooboo @queen-of-no1 @iminsanenotobsessed @dorkzrul @snusbandxknifewife @aknymph @clouds-and-peonies @thefolkofthefic @snorting-up-pizza @fandomfanatic987 @fandom-will-be-the-death-of-me @cardanslittletail @curlyredqueen06 @losssssstttttt @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln@omfglucayababies @judiecardan @woodsbeyond1 @yourroyalbooknerd @ireallyshouldsleeprn @st00pid231 @alittledribbledrabble @nomotivation-lads @herladyshipxx @judiecardan

#between the two of us #chapter 6 #wow i actually wrote something #jurdan #jurdan fanfic #jurdan fanfiction #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air #folk of the air #my writing

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do-androids-dream-ao3acc · 4 years ago

Photo

A lovely person prompted me with not much more than the word “cooking”. You know how it is, it can get spicy in the kitchen... (2897 words, rating somewhere between M and E, I guess, see for yourself...)

Read “Take hold of the flame” (yes, BG lyrics, again) under the cut or on AO3.

The bed was significantly smaller than what he was used to. So it was hardly surprising that when Emhyr awoke, he found himself lying half on top of Geralt. A whole bundle of white hair tickled his nose. Oddly enough, it smelled faintly of hay. Horse stable, he thought, amused. Apart from that, it just smelled like Geralt, an indefinable, somehow spicy (irresistible) scent. Not quite tangible, not quite real. Like the whole man, actually, which was exactly why he loved him.

Emhyr noticed that his right leg was resting rather uncomfortably on Geralt's hip, somehow entangled with him. Still, although he had pinned him somewhat down with his body in sleep and he was buried in his pillows, Geralt just slept on peacefully. Amazing, how this man could sleep in the most inconvenient positions. As if it was precisely Emhyrs weight that he needed to be comfortable. That wasn't true; he knew that – Geralt was just used to taking advantage of any sleep he could get, even if he had to do so sitting up. Still, Emhyr liked the thought that his husband would sleep better beside him. He did, that was for sure.

That wasn't why he found himself in this ridiculously narrow bed (which Geralt claimed was a perfectly standard size for two people). At least it wasn't the only reason. The fact that they were now married did not mean that they were free of their obligations, and they both seemed to cling to them with unusual stubbornness. So it happened that they didn't see much of each other, especially when Geralt was away on a contract for almost two weeks, as he had been recently, and eventually stopped off at Corvo Bianco to check up on things. But for this case, they had an agreement, as silly as it was touching at the same time. They called it a kind of hiatus, and there was only one person in the palace who was in on it – the court sorceress, and she was necessary to make it work at all.

In this way, Emhyr occasionally spent a night in Touissaint (without his troublesome cousin knowing). Although they usually didn't stray far from the house (the bed), starry nights under Touissaint's sky were always the closest thing to a honeymoon. Now it was morning, and in a few hours, he would be picked up again just as discreetly as he had come here. Carefully, Emhyr tried to untie their entwined legs. Getting out of the tangled hair was much harder; he liked the smell and how savage Geralt looked when the unkempt mane fell over his shoulders. With that hair and all the scars on his body, he was a unique, wonderful sight that Emhyr could never get enough of. Even when he realized, as he did now, that the only reason he saw so much of it was that he had snatched the entire blanket during the night. However, he had warmed Geralt for it with his body, which was probably somehow a compensation.

The golden eyes opened just as Emhyr lifted his head.

"Fuck," was the first thing Geralt said, his voice still hinting sleep.

If there was a way to show amusement only by lifting the eyebrows, Emhyr had mastered it.

"If that is really the first thing you want to do?"

"Not funny," returned his witcher, growling. "You filled me up with your wine last night. I'm having a hangover. Who brings wine to Touissaint anyway?"

"One fine day, maybe this dead vineyard of yours will bear fruit, and then you can retaliate. Besides, you can't actually get a hangover."

"I can get a headache."

"That's gone in a couple of minutes."

"You're heartless," Geralt muttered from somewhere under his tangle of hair. "What time is it? Are you leaving already?"

"No, we still have some time."

Emhyr bent down, wiped some stubborn hair from Geralt's face, and kissed him gently. He still tasted of wine, and they both had to rinse their mouths, but he couldn't help touching those lips with his first thing in the morning. He always earned a smile, as if the sun rose twice. Geralt just lay there, looking at him, regarding him with that mixture of wonder and admiration that hadn't left him in a long time. The wedding hadn't changed that; perhaps it had only intensified the amazement in particular.

"We could still have breakfast together," he suggested. "Although... I told Marlene not to drop by until around noon."

"I suppose you had a slightly different breakfast in mind?"

Geralt grinned, but his traitorous stomach decided to use that very moment to growl.

"That can wait if you want to satisfy another hunger first," he said at Emhyr's skeptical look, grabbing his neck to get another kiss.

But to his surprise, Emhyr replied, "You know, we could actually have breakfast together. We're usually never alone when we do that. I could cook something. It would be peaceful."

Geralt gave him an incredulous look.

"You want to do what?"

Emhyr's lips curled into one of those little cocky smiles.

"You don't believe it? Well, my dear, until my childhood dissolved so rudely into a curse, I did indeed enjoy an excellent upbringing. Strict, but effective. I can in fact do a few small dishes."

Geralt narrowed his eyes, unsure if this was another of Emhyr's strange jokes.

"You want to cook me something," he repeated, without it sounding like a question – more like a not-quite-serious statement.

He should have known better than to challenge Emhyr, of all people.

There was a flash in the latter's eyes. Not only did he love being right, but he also loved each and every one of his little victories over his spouse – each war of words, each stare that he held out longer. So he got up with grace, dressed in no time, and was already halfway out the door when Geralt untangled his hair with his fingers and said in confusion, "You're serious."

Emhyr turned around, the doorknob already in his hand, and replied without any irony, "I'm basically serious about everything. You should know that by now."

Sometime later, Geralt stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wrapped only in the bedspread, still tousled. It was a rare sight: he was completely relaxed, and not just because he was in his own home. Moreover, it was also quite a stimulating sight, but Emhyr was not easily distracted. He had quickly gained an overview of the kitchen, and now he was slicing apples with extreme precision while heating a pan over the fire.

Geralt watched him skeptically as if he still couldn't believe what he was seeing. In fact, he had never seen him like this before: barefoot in a kitchen, modestly dressed in the same black pants and black shirt he had appeared in yesterday. Yes, the shirt was elaborately embroidered with not very modest gold threads, but by Emhyr's standards, he made a very casual impression. He also hadn't combed his hair yet, which was why some of his little black curls were still visible. Emhyr indeed appeared utterly relaxed as well. And that was even rarer than with Geralt, who stood in the door frame and gave him a look that now trulyindicated a completely different hunger.

However, neither the look nor the sight could distract Emhyr. There was a small bowl in front of him, and he cracked some eggs in it. Then he added flour, grabbed a jug, poured milk into the bowl, and stirred the dough carefully. Checking, he opened a couple of jars on a shelf by the wall, smelled them, stuck his finger in one, and licked it. He gave Geralt a quick glance. He was still standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, and his smile had something moonstruck about it. Finally, Emhyr found what he was looking for and added a pinch of salt to the bowl.

"It looks like you know what you're doing," Geralt said, his voice slightly hoarse.

Emhyr shook his head.

"If I had known how stimulating you would find this, I would have done it sooner," he replied, slightly amused, as he added some lard to the pan.

A slight sizzling sounded, and a pleasant smell filled the room. Something was satisfying about this: an immediate, visible result. An actual change for someone who often had to plan his strategies months in advance. Now he added some apple slices to the pan and sprinkled sugar on top. The smell became sweeter, more intense. Emhyr rummaged in some drawers and sniffed at several small jars until he triumphantly held up one of them.

"Cinnamon," he said, sprinkling a tiny amount into the pan before adding some batter.

Geralt didn't care what he poured into it; he simply liked the sight of his husband, who seemed to be wholly absorbed in his current activity. Who would have ever expected the Emperor of Nilfgaard to be able to make pancakes? There was something satisfyingly meditative about how he baked out one after another and lifted them onto a plate.

"You'll have to eat these quickly; there's no oven here," Emhyr remarked.

Geralt didn't answer; he continued to look at him. The warmth of the fire had reddened Emhyr's cheeks. Eventually, the bowl was empty, the plate filled, and Emhyr said, "Make yourself useful and set the table."

Geralt, who seemed to have been waiting only for this announcement, stepped forward, grabbed Emhyr's hand, and replied roughly, "Oh, I'll set the table," and pulled him along, pushing him against the small sideboard. Almost unexpectedly – for himself – Emhyr did not resist; he allowed himself to be pulled, uttering only a feeble, "I thought you wanted to eat."

"I'll eat, don't worry."

"Obscene."

"Maybe, but you'll still like it."

Emhyr did not doubt that, even more so when Geralt began to capture his mouth with a tempestuous kiss that betrayed his passion almost as clearly as his sight – for now, he dropped the blanket he still had wrapped around him, presenting his hard-on.

Emhyr raised a brow in one of his meaningful, typical gestures.

"This is what you get for watching me cook?"

"You have no idea. But don't worry, no one goes hungry in this kitchen."

"No more kitchen jokes," Emhyr groaned while Geralt was already in the process of relieving him of his clothes.

The room was neatly heated up, and the old house with its few windows was rarely cool anyway. However, the fire's proximity was not the only reason why beads of sweat stood on Emhyr's forehead after a short time.

By now, the whole place was a mess - there lay his shirt and trousers, the blanket, and some stuff Geralt had unintentionally thrown off the sideboard, as he had pushed his husband against it. Emhyr couldn't care less, for now, Geralt had gone to his knees, and he did his utmost to make Emhyr raise his arousal to the same level. This was not difficult – as usual, the sight of the witcher was nearly enough. The golden eyes, half-hidden under all the tangled hair, which he could hardly stop himself from reaching into, sparkled when they looked up at him. And his lips were shiny too, moistened by his tongue, which was now already so close. It was part of the game to hold back a little longer, and he put his hands on Emhyr's hips, also to savor the feeling for another moment. But everything about this made it hard to resist – the warmth of the kitchen, Emhyr's very own smell, now mixed with apparent arousal, that surprisingly soft down of pubic hair for such a large and imposing man, now right before Geralt's eyes. He didn't try any longer.

The heat grew stronger, but now it came from within, rising directly from Emhyr's abdomen, moving upward, spiraling up in lustful waves. The feeling enclosed him, like Geralt's mouth, and his fingers clawed into the wood of the furniture behind him, knuckles almost as white as the hair below. The tongue was a pure provocation, just like the looks. A challenge, the attempt to break through Emhyr's composure prematurely, always in vain. After all, he'd been playing this game much longer than Geralt, at least in this way.

It was time to turn the tables. He leaned forward and placed his hand on the back of Geralt's neck, neither gentle nor firm, his fingers performing a sole impression of possessiveness. It was a power that had nothing at all to do with his status, and it was the only one Geralt had followed – ever since he had first decided that there were situations in which he would deliberately kneel before him. He did not do it for the Emperor; he did it solely for the man Emhyr was besides.

With gentle pressure from his fingertips only, this man now ordered him to stand up. He wrapped his arms around that amazingly slender waist, pulling him closer, while at the same time, his eyes were locked on Geralt's, just as it was the other way around. Both locked onto, both lost in each other. Could it get any warmer in the kitchen? Slowly, very slowly, he bent over, seeking the wet lips, but his own taste on them was nearly too much for him.

Almost roughly, he whirled around, his arms still around Geralt, and with amazing strength (and perhaps some encouragement), he lifted him very briefly until Geralt was sitting on the sideboard. More things fell, kitchen utensils, garlic bulbs, a strangely deformed golden spoon.

"We need some...," Geralt began, a little out of breath from both the kiss and the arousal.

"It's a kitchen," Emhyr interrupted him as his hands roamed over Geralt's body.

He gave his fingers just as much time as his lips, for that was his part of their game, and as expected, his spouse responded with impatient little sounds. But Emhyr had already found what he was looking for. A narrow little clay jug contained oil that smelled very slightly of the olives grown in Touissaint. It was not an unusual tool for what he had in mind, though considerably simpler than anything they usually used.

"Someone's gonna need to clean this place up," Geralt commented as Emhyr yanked a bundle of herbs off a hook on the wall while trying to reach for the jar.

"If you want to make sure your housekeeper doesn't find out what happened in her kitchen, you better do that," he countered.

But then, the time for banter was over. A glance without words, a silent agreement they gave each other over and over again, despite all the passion. They smiled at each other in their inimitable way: a broad expression on one side, a mere sparkle in the eyes on the other. The time had come to stop holding back, and all passion channeled into a powerful first thrust, so hard that the back of Geralt's head hit a wall shelf. His suppressed scream might have expressed pain or pleasure at the same time; it didn't matter.

The kitchen was a furnace now, but most of the heat emanated from their bodies, less from the fire behind them. Emhyr's hands, still slippery from the oil, clawed at Geralt's ass, holding him steady while he kept a ruthless pace. All playfulness had fallen from them, and they pursued their lust with a kind of sacred seriousness.

The sweet whiff of the pancakes had long since been covered by a tangy scent of sweat and passion. Unfamiliar sounds filled the place, usually accustomed only to the hissing of frying food or the clinking of dishes. Now, there was the slapping of skin against skin. Lips, that met each other in the middle of a moan. A word, an invitation, a demand for more. Desire, increasing the more it was indulged, became sounds, became touch, until they indeed became one.

The release was like a fire that never loses its spark. And when it came, it came with a sigh and a groan, with laughter silenced by a kiss. After that, they just held each other until their hearts calmed down. When he had regained his speech - even if his voice still sounded a little flat - Emhyr said, "Your food is cold."

Geralt looked at him, a sheepish expression crossing his features.

"I hate apple pancakes," he blurted out.

A raised eyebrow was the maximum amount of astonishment Emhyr allowed himself.

"You eat them all the time. We have them for breakfast several times a week."

"I eat them because you eat them. You seem to like them; you're the one who keeps ordering them. And you seem to like it when I eat them. That's the only reason I keep doing it."

Emhyr hid a small smile that wanted to steal onto his mouth in Geralt's tangled hair and whispered close to his ear, "That' s idiotic."

"I know," Geralt returned.

"I like it," Emhyr said, and only a very, very careful observer would have noticed that his shoulders moved slightly. As if in a tiny laugh, perhaps.

"I know," Geralt repeated.

He did not hide his smile, and the sun rose for the second time that morning. It was going to be a beautiful day.

#fanfiction #Emhyr x Geralt #Geralt x Emhyr #Emhyr/Geralt #Emralt #domestic bliss #somebody's cooking #but nobody's eating

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mommymooze · 4 years ago

Text

Sleep Doctor

Hubert X Reader. Warning: blood war violence, rudeness, bad dreams

You are often compared to Mercedes, both of you are talented in healing, as well as both of you have doting, motherly personalities. Both of you are nurturing, protective, supportive, bakers of treats, a trusted confidante.

There are differences of course. Her faith is in the goddess, yours is in the human spirit. Your reason magic is powerful as well. You don’t have a creepy brother, just a lazy sister. You cook delicious meals, you love brewing potions and concoctions. While she is laid back and chill, you are assertive and firm. You give advice and then enforce it.

Mercedes suggests that someone get more sleep, rest, take their time to recover. Maybe gently remind them after a few days if she stills sees dark circles under their eyes. You tell them they need more sleep and that you will be waiting for them at their room to make certain they sleep that night and perhaps the next two or three nights.

Linhardt enjoys sharing duties as the healer for the Black Eagles Strike force with you. His favorite taunt is to use your name as a threat. “If you do not rest that leg and let it heal, I will advise (y/n) of the situation.” Everyone is quite aware that Emperor Edelgard fully supports your extremely strict and regimented methods to ensure that the Strike Force is in tip top condition.

One of your pet peeves is finding injuries long after a battle is over. Linhardt will only leave his minor wounds untreated if he is too tired to get to it. Dorothea does very well seeking treatments promptly. Petra has a great understanding of the responsibility of your body being a temple and to keep it in constant repair. Bernadetta only hides injuries if she feels that she has made a mistake and tries to use it as self-punishment. Caspar is highly maintained and checked by Lin, so he’s in great shape. Emperor Edelgard is preened by the healers every time she returns, to make sure not the tiniest scratch is left unattended lest she get an infection. Ferdinand does frequent the healers, however he has been known to often get infections, not understanding the seriousness of the smaller, less important wounds he has received in the germ and disease filled conditions of war.

Then there is Hubert. He stands and gives reports to his Lady, while his own blood is pooling at his feet. His mindset is Duty Before All Else. Immediately upon arrival from a mission, he must report to Emperor Edelgard, then he may stop by the infirmary, but more likely will return to his tent or quarters and write his reports of the mission results.

At first you try reasoning with him. Advising him he is losing enough blood that by the time his report is finished his body is completely exsanguinated. You attempt to physically remove him from the Command tent and he strikes you with magic. Trial and error provides the answer for your most successful method of treating the irritatingly stubborn man. Healing him upon his arrival, during his report to the Emperor upon his return. The moment Hubert warps to her tent you are summoned from the infirmary. Your materials already await you in the command tent.

“Stand over here on these towels.” You order the dark mage.

“I must present my report…” Hubert angrily chastises you.

“I tire of my carpets being stained, do as she says.” Edelgard orders, he complies.

You remove his cape, cravat, and outer coat. You stand behind him as he is advising the Emperor of his latest completed duties in the never-ending effort to win the war for the Empire. You in turn untuck his white and red stained shirt from his pants and pull it up in the back clipping it out of your way. The blood has dried around his undershirt and you cut it loose from the stab wound that is just at the base of his rib cage, thankfully below his heart by a few inches. Had the assassin had a better angle, well, the Spymaster would not be with us right now.

Pressing a cloth that is thoroughly soaked in alcohol onto the wound to remoisten and allow removal of the remaining undershirt material as well as cleanse the wound preventing infection, you apply firm pressure into the hole and begin removing the soiled cloth from the deep stab wound as you hear him exclaim.

“…and then we proceeeeek!..Flames woman! Trying to finish the job!” The dark mage yells, his left arm coming back to smack you away as the burning sensation of the liquid goes deeper into his flesh.

You easily duck his attack as you remove the foreign materials, making certain the wound is absolutely clean. Minor deep healing spells take care of the immediate damage. There will still be bruising to his left kidney. You pull out needle and thread to pull the two sides of the wound back together, making it easier for the healing spells to take hold and lessen the scarring. That particular wound finished, it is not difficult to trace another slice into his flesh, this time blood is soaking into his shirt collar as he sustained a dagger’s blade to the side of his head just behind his ear. Head wounds bleed profusely, if they do not penetrate the skull they cause little problem as long as they are cleaned. A nice curved needle allows you to pick up the skin on each side to bring them back together again. A final healing spell there and the bleeding subsides.

Your hands glow lightly as they run along his body, searching for any additional injuries. The stubborn mule of a man certainly will not reveal any weak points. Two ribs on his left front are heavily bruised, healing spells correct that situation. Finding no other serious injuries, you return the cape and coat to Hubert, pat him on the shoulder, and proceed to the infirmary.

The trouble with being at war is that it is prohibitive to good sleep. There are quite a few members of the Strike Force that have issue with sleeping, some nights it is interrupted by dreams or memories of personally tragic events during the war, others cannot get to sleep in the first place, their minds tormenting them with frightening thoughts. While in Enbarr or at Garreg Mach, you are available to assist your fellow Strike Force members with issues of nightmares, night terrors or simply general insomnia. Your schedule is changed to accommodate the availability for such. You are available from sunset until 5 or 6am to assist with these issues. After that you return to your room to sleep until noon. The guards patrolling the areas are trained take notice if someone is calling out loudly in their sleep. There is also a physical sign, a request for assistance, by placing a red card slightly peeking past the bottom of the door, alerting them to retrieve you to the location for necessary assistance.

Your counsel at night is always kept between you and the patient. Having someone there to talk to is the best medicine for most parties. A trusted ear, a caring heart, letting them know they are not alone, simply being there is at times the answer to the current situation.

Hubert again, is the one most difficult to work with. His living space is highly covered in magic spells and sigils. The layout is such that if he is screaming in his bed it would not be heard through his closed door. He is not one to ask for help unless it is from complete desperation. Only by observing the reticent Spy Master can you tell that sleep has been evading him more than normal. His eyes are sunk further back into his skull, the blackness seems to surround his eyes. He taps his feet to keep his body moving, reminding himself to stay awake. This dedicated, enervated man is your most challenging patient by far. As today’s strategy meeting concludes, you request that he remain behind to discuss a matter with him and Emperor Edelgard.

“Hubert, when was the last time you slept.” You ask, hands on your hips.

“Three days ago. There is no time for sleep when you are running a war.” He answers.

“There is only so long before your body will take what it requires. The next battle is less than a week away. It is critical that you sleep now.” You plead, looking to Edelgard for support. “I agree. Hubert, pass along what duties you can and carve out time for sleep every day until the battle. Provide both of us a schedule of when you will set aside time for rest.”

Hubert stands, bowing to his Emperor and glaring at you sharply before he leaves the room.

You have found, through trial and error, ways of making him sleep. Forcing him into specific routines that subconsciously prepare him for sleep. Once he is in bed and relaxed usually a palm resting on the back of his hand is enough to make him lay still enough to drift off. Sometimes he is more agitated, so you will read to him dissertations regarding the history and foundation of white magic in a monotone voice. The text is very dry, of no interest to him, yet the words distract his thoughts enough, allowing sleep to take him.

Today was no such day. Overtired and restless he shifts in his bed anxiously.

“Tell me a story.” He finally requests.

“I did not think you a fan of fairy tales or knights.” You reply softly.

“You have a large family. Tell me a story of your youth.”

You begin to weave the tales of your younger days. The family going into the woods to pick buckets upon buckets of blueberries, your brothers getting distracted by seeing who could climb the highest in a tree, Mother panicking that they would fall and break their arms and legs. Scrubbing the purple from your siblings before getting them to bed then helping mother preserve the berries in wine bottles to enjoy during the winter. You are softly retelling these events until you realize he has fallen asleep.

It is not dark in the room, the curtains are pulled close to reduce the sunlight. You pull out a novel to read. Hubert is a quiet sleeper. He’s not like Caspar who crawls around and tangles himself in his sheets while he slumbers. You look up from your book as you see Hubert moving his feet, giving a weak kick. He is pulling his arms up to his chest and his face is drawn into a frown. You drop your book. Your hand brushes his cheek softly as you try to gently wake him from his nightmare.

“Hubert, I’m here for you. Everything is all right. Shhhh.” You softly whisper.

The dark mage startles from his sleep, his eyes wide. He looks about the room finally realizing he is within his own bedchambers. He looks very distressed, his hands trembling. You instinctively pull him into a hug, holding him tight against your chest as you lay gently on him.

“Breathe, just breathe.” You urge him, taking long slow loud breaths to have him match yours.

It takes a while before he finally begins to relax again. You know you can’t stand hunched over him much longer, so you walk around the bed to lie next to him on top of the covers. You pull him to face you as you card your fingers through his hair and encourage him to relax. The exhaustion of his body takes over and he falls asleep again.

You awaken after a short nap due to movement under your arm. Opening your eyes you find Hubert looking back at you. Instinctively you slowly pull your arm from across his chest back to yourself.

“Did you rest well?” you whisper.

Hubert rolls onto his back. “Surprisingly, yes. My headache is gone.”

You quietly slide out of the bed, straightening your clothing. Making your way to the other side, you return the chair to its proper place and gather your things.

“Do you often accompany your patients in their beds?” Hubert asks, a slight sneer in his voice.

“Never.” You reply. “You are a…special case.” You reply, closing the door behind you.

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

The next day Hubert is much more coherent at the morning strategy meeting. Once the meeting adjournes, the Emperor requests that the two of you remain behind.

“I notice an improvement today.” Edelgard smiles at the Minister of the Imperial Household.

“Of course, My Lady. I refuse to disappoint you.” He respectfully bows.

“We are scheduled today from 10pm until 3am. Granted, 5 hours is not much for the average person, but to Hubert’s tortured soul it is quite the luxury.” You quip, causing Edelgard to giggle.

The dark mage scowls in your general direction. You both excuse yourselves as the Emperor has another appointment to attend. You join him as he heads toward his office.

“Was it so horrible to rest yesterday? Do you not feel some improvement?” You inquire.

“You were witness to my sleep. It is anything but restful.” He grumbles.

“Which is currently the point of my assisting you.” You respond in a logical manner.

“If there is nothing further you require, I have significantly less time to complete my duties. I bid you good day.” Hubert sniffs as he heads to his office.

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

You are waiting outside of Hubert’s quarters for his arrival. He arrives 15 minutes late. There is no apology for his tardiness. He completes his routine for preparing for bed and finally pulls his covers up to his chin, only to stare at you. You’ve brought knitting to keep you company, a quiet pastime.

“Do you need a diversion?” You ask softly.

“No.” He responds, continuing to stare daggers at you.

A few minutes later he decides to stare at the ceiling.

“Why do you do this?” Hubert wonders aloud.

“For your health of course. Sleep is extremely important. Your body needs the rest, so does your mind. It affects your nervous system, your immune system. All creatures need sleep.” You answer matter of factly patting the back of his hand.

“Why do you care?” he asks.

“I’ve come to know everyone very closely. You are my work family and my friends. I would be devastated should anyone die from something I can possibly prevent. Just as you protect us all from spies, assassinations, poisoning, and the like, I do the same protecting everyone from sickness, injuries, infections etcetera. There is only one Hubert Von Vestra. I would like to see him live past the end of the war. “

“Hmpf.” Is his only response.

Hubert closes his eyes as you quietly knit. His breathing slows as he drifts into the land of Nod. You silently slip from his room to check on the other occupants of the Imperial Palace to find that it is a rather quiet night and there are no disturbances amongst the Strike Force. You return to Hubert’s quarters to see him still resting, which is surprising. You know he is a light sleeper, however even if he woke up, he remained in bed. You count that as a victory. As 3am nears, you head out to retrieve a carafe and water, preparing coffee in his parlor just at the time he should awaken.

“One moment.” Is heard coming from the door to his bedroom. A few minutes later Hubert emerges from his bedroom dressed for work and looking shockingly more alert than you have seen him in the past two weeks.

“Thank you for doing this for yourself as well as for the rest of us. I will see you again this evening.” You articulated as you gather your personal items to leave. You swear you almost hear a soft ‘thank you.’ from Hubert as he locks his door and heads to his office.

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

Hubert is working until midnight tonight, never a regular schedule for himself, his duties rule his sleep schedule. You leave Ferdinand’s quarters in time to head to the kitchen and obtain a cup of coffee before you must meet with the dark mage. Ferdinand sleeps well most of the time, however as the war becomes more brutal and savage, he is plagued with nightmares more frequently. After you were called to his room this night, he finally agreed to take a small sleeping potion. The thought of dark circles under his bright and shining eyes is like having storm clouds blocking the sun. He is the source of the Strike Force’s positive energy. They need him brightly shining in the lead, a beacon of hope.

Your arrival at Hubert’s door is matched with his. His posture is much improved, not hunched over barely able to stand. He greets you with a nod and waves you into his quarters. You pat his shoulder as you walk past him. He prepares for bed and once he is under the covers calls you into his bedroom. He has already placed the chair in its normal spot, close to the head of his bed. Taking your seat you place your hand on top of his. His hand does not move.

“You keep touching me. Why do you do that?” Hubert asks, staring at the ceiling.

“It is another one of the basic needs of humans. Some need it more than others. Certainly you have observed in battle, when the Professor is encouraging Caspar in the middle of a fight, if Caspar receives a simple pat on the head, he can rush forth taking out several squads of enemies at an amazing pace. When Bernadetta is extremely anxious, sitting next to her with a leg or shoulder touching her, she visibly relaxes. Emperor Edelgard relaxes with gentle hugs. Ferdinand prefers a one armed hug when being comforted through a tough time. The professor responds to hand holding and shoulder touching. Dorothea gets herself anxious and worked up sometimes, then only a full squeezing hug can get her to settle enough to speak with her.

“I was not aware of such needs, nor of your detailed observations of our team members.”

“I must admit, you are my most difficult patient in this regard.” You smile softly.

“Explain.” He says flatly.

“Beyond contact with our Emperor, you do not touch others nor does anyone touch you.” You begin. “Even when contact with another is made, it is not skin to skin, always to clothing, always with gloves. Certainly your upbringing, family history, interpersonal relationships, work schedules, work agenda and severe lack of personal time factors into this.

When one is in the infirmary, healers constantly touch the patients. Verbal reassurance is good, physical touch is required, and is extremely reassuring. When a patient is unconscious, the body still reacts to touch. When Petra was heavily injured a few battles ago, Dorothea was there for hours holding her hand, stroking her cheek. The body does react, relaxes. Somewhere in her brain, she knows someone is there for her and she needs to get better in order to rejoin them. Unconscious patients still tense up, faces furrow. Touch causes them to relax, leading the body to focus on healing.

On the battlefield, I am shocked at the condition I have found a fallen person, yet they are still alive, simply because someone else is there with them, touching them, encouraging them to hang on to that precious thread of life for yet a moment longer. That comrade being there has performed a miracle. There is no other way to explain it. Reason magic is cast through verbal incantations, physical movement, mental intentions. Healing magic is through touch, with the exception of physic, because no rule is absolute. “

“Hmmm. Continue.” Hubert watches your face closely, turning his palm to yours, taking your smaller hand into his without thinking.

“Now my observation of you, Hubert. I have heard you say that you are unworthy of anyone being close to you based on your workings below the surface, your bloodstained hands, duties you have carried out in the darkness. I disagree. You are not to judge your own worthiness. Only others can perform that task. They will base it on their own life, experiences, beliefs, circumstances. If they cannot understand you and appreciate you for who you are, all of you, then perhaps they are not worthy of you. The Emperor knows you, knows what you do for her, suspects what is done outside of her vision, yet she is there for you, accepting you for who you are, as you are. Over these years of war, all of the members of our team have learned more about you, perhaps scratching beyond the surface of you, yet they are still here. They still support you, believe in you, rely on you. They find you worthy of their protection, their support. Tell me of one person in the Strike Force that has not helped you in a battle. I certainly can tell you about how many I have had to piece together after they shielded you from certain death. I have lost count of how many holes I have patched up on you are a result of your protecting each and every one of them.”

“Physical Attributes are difficult to overcome…” he argues.

You laugh at the thought. “Have you never heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Beauty is found within? To me, my mother is the most beautiful woman in the world. Having so many children her stomach never went back to being flat and fashionable. She has spots on her face from being in the sun. Wrinkles in her hands from working them hard for many years. Her nose is crooked because she broke it as a child and never had it properly healed. Most people on the street would look at her as the typical matronly old woman, but to me she is more beautiful than any goddess, I would not change a thing. My sister was being courted by Bernard, her now husband. Bernard was awkward, tall and lanky. At first I noticed he was all knees and elbows, his teeth seemed to be too large for his mouth. But my sister loved him, and he loved her. When I last saw him, I saw a tall handsome man that would do anything for my sister, just looking at him you could tell he adores her. When he looks at my sister, his smile shines bright and I consider him beautiful inside and out. Ask Dorothea how far good looks will get you. She is a beautiful woman, however knows that beauty fades. She has found someone who loves her for her. That when she is old and wrinkled and gray, they will be there for her and she for them. “

“I have much to think about. Good night.” Hubert says softly closing his eyes.

You remain holding his hand until it relaxes which is not until he is in a deep sleep. He sleeps quietly and restfully. A very good rest for him indeed.

The next morning Hubert joins you in his parlor, sitting at the table with you as you silently enjoy the first cup of morning coffee together.

As you pour a refill, you finally break the silence. “Today we prepare, early tomorrow we leave for yet another battle. I know you will not sleep tonight, if you wish to try, even for an hour or two, I would be happy to help.”

Hubert briefly scowls then retracts it to a minor frown. “I can sleep on my own. I do not need you as a crutch.”

You place your hand atop his now white gloved hand. “I am not a crutch, I am an enforcer.” You smile.

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

You are too busy the night before leaving to think about Hubert. Ferdinand has a particularly strong night terror. Bernadetta had a major panic attack. Linhardt could not find a comfortable place to sleep, wandering and laying about all over the palace. You would find him in the middle of a pathway, taking him to a more secluded and safer place to sleep only for him to move to a different poor location for slumber. You finished bottling your last batch of healing potions and pots of salves for minor wounds and burns. You begin filling the wagon with as much bandages and bindings as you could stuff into it. You and the other healers riding in the wagon will take turns sleeping, resting now because once battle starts, you would not sleep for perhaps two days or more.

A few more days on the road, scouts have returned stating there is a small army preventing anyone from passing, apparently a mix of kingdom and church soldiers. A brief strategy meeting is held and soon the caravans realign, with the support teams like yours toward the rear. A few more hours at a slow pace as they advance to the enemy location. Now explosions are heard as the mages on both sides attack, the infantry running in behind the Cavalry and the fliers doing their best to snipe from the skies. Your group hurriedly throws together the medical tent, secures a location for water, sets up cots, supplies. Ready for patients, you head out toward the field of battle. Those that are no longer fit to fight are sent your direction. You assess their condition, stop severe bleeding and direct them to the correct tent location. You see a Meteor spell go off in the middle of the battle, sincerely hoping that is Dorothea and not the enemy that is the source. You watch Linhardt in the back lines, healing who he can, keeping them on their feet. You want to go out there and help, but you remain at your post.

The battle continues until sunset. You are surrounded by patients. Fortunately nobody in the Strike Force has serious injuries, or at least they have not yet made it to the medical tent. You finish cleaning the slicing wounds of a very young, perhaps 17 year old, soldier’s arms before sewing the sides of the wounds back together and then casting a healing spell on them to remove the final trace of any visible wound.

“(Y/n)” a deep voice comes from behind you.

“How are you doing Hubert? Is there somewhere I am needed?” You ask, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Do you have any healing spells left in you?” He asks, a frown on his brow.

“No, That was the last one.” You say, cleaning up your surgical tools. Before you look up, he takes hold of your arm and warps you to a tent.

“Now it is your turn. You are in desperate need of sleep. There are buckets and towels to wash up and your bags are there to change clothes.”

“I sleep in the medical tent in case they need me…” you state, confused by this.

“You are out of magic, let those that can heal remain. I will step outside, you will clean up and prepare for bed.” Hubert exits, closing the tent flap behind him.

In spite of the rudeness, it feels nice to wash the blood and grime off and change into clean dry clothing not soaked in someone else’s blood. Sleeping away from the injured is much much quieter, you think as you change into bedclothes and sit on the cot.

“Done.” You call out.

Hubert enters the tent, bringing a tin cup full of water as well as a waterskin. “You must drink this. You have not had a drink since the first patients came in.”

“I’ve been preoccupied.” You gratefully take the cup and drinking the entire contents quickly.

“Now rest. Go to sleep.” His voice is quite assertive.

“Stay with me a bit?” You plead.

“Demanding woman!” He huffs, pulling the chair next to the bed to sit close by.

“Is everyone okay? Have they been checked out?” you ask.

Hubert grumbles. “Of course they are. Many have been asleep for four hours or more. Now hush.”

You suddenly sit up. “Have I stolen your bed? I can’t do that to you.”

He hesitantly touches your shoulder. “You need to rest. Stop fighting me.”

You frown and lie back down. “Could you lie next to me for a bit? Its…chilly.” You begin scooting to one side of the cot, until it threatens to tip over from having the weight all on one side.

“You are relentless.” He frowns.

You nod and lift the cover for him to join you. He lies on his back, you on your side facing him. You lift his arm bringing it around your back as you place your head and arm on his chest. Without opening your eyes you tell him, “Yes this is necessary.” You settle in next to him and quickly relax, falling asleep.

#fe3h x reader #fe3h #hubert von vestra #fe16 #feth #Fire Emblem Three Houses

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