#anyways more skeleton content should be on its way soon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sw124 · 4 years ago

Text

BonelyHearts Reader Insert4

{Female!ReaderXSkeleton household}

Camping! Pt.3

[Warning: I’m gonna be descriptive with the food so please eat something before you read this. No theirs nothing graphic, its just I’m describing the process of cooking some food, sorry if it makes you hungry]

You could’ve sworn that the trip wouldn’t be that long, guess you were wrong. Well never the less it was time to start dinner, before the trip even started you had volunteered to do ‘dinner’ on the camping trip while the others did ‘breakfast’. It was only four in the afternoon but dinner prep was gonna take a little bit plus you had to set up dessert too. If you started now you’d have it done in less then forty minutes, well no time to waist...especially with these boys.

You got out a few pots, two larger ones an one smaller one, one for boiling water, another to make the sauce and lastly the third was to collect the water. It was expensive but you bought two small propane burners, after the camping trip you can gift one out to a friend and keep the other for when you’d make Hotpot dishes for winter.

You filled the first pot with water, bottled water to be exact. Then put that on the first burner, you turned it on and set it to high, you added a touch some olive oil into the water and let it sit. Now on to the sauce, you reached into the cooler and pulled out a two large cartons of heavy whipping cream, a container of grated Parmesan cheese, a stick of butter, garlic paste in a squeeze tube, chopped parsley in a small ziplock and lastly the bag of mixed veggies. Zucchini, asparagus, onions, mushrooms, yellow squash and lastly carrots.

In the pot you threw in the stick of butter and a dollop of garlic paste, you put the pot on the other burner and melted the butter with the garlic, you threw in the veggies when the butter had just melted. You waited till the veggies were cooked throughly, mostly caramelizing the onions and mushrooms. Once that was done you added in the heavy whipping cream an Parmesan an started stirring. After you let that set you checked on the water, it was at a full boil now-

.....

“Boss I thought I told you I was handling dinner, either you go sit by the fire and wait or go for a walk.” You growled.

The one thing you hated was Boss leaning over you while you cooked, he knew you were preparing a pasta dish an by the law that is Boss he has to supervise you...not this time.

“I need to make sure your not going to add anything...unessesary to the dish.” He countered.

You groaned under your breath, you wanted this to be a bit of a surprise but of course that was wishful thinking....you shook your head and continued. Grabbing two boxes of spaghetti you poured them into the pot.

......

You looked up to find that Boss wasn’t alone, all of the skeletons were now crowding around the kitchen tent, intently watching you cook. You wondered if they were hungry and was planning to offer something to tide them over, that thought passed when you saw the remnants of chip crumbs on some of their clothing.

“Can I help you boys?” Your voice going mono.

“We’re just watching, gotta do something to ‘pasta’ time way, ya know?” Said Sans, earning a glare from half of the group.

Ash and Poplar strategical placed themselves near you, Poplar blocking Boss and his...needling gaze. Everyone else was just watching quietly, well Nox made a comment or two about the sauce bubbling but that was ok, he even reminded you about the parsley. It was also nice to have Russ help you strain out the water when the noodles were done.

“Ok, everything is just about ready. You boys get your bowls an I’ll start plating ok?”

The boys did as told, it was kinda cute seeing them all shuffle to get their bowls together. You had your bowl there along with your fork, Red got back first and you first filled his bowl partly with the noodles before ladling on the sauce...well it’s as more of a soup but you called it sauce. You make sure the noodles were half submerged. You repeated this until all ten skeletons had their portion, you filled your bowl next before joining them at the picnic table.

“Ok boys, lets dig in!” You announced.

You didn’t hesitate, you instantly twisted a bundle of spaghetti on to your fork along with some asparagus. It tasted heavenly, the creamy, buttery sauce mixed with the Parmesan was just delightful. You were happy that it turned out so well, you looked up. To your surprise and delight everyone seemed to be enjoying the food, Boss even gave you an approving nod.

“Wowie! I’ve got to tell Undyne about this, she an Alphys would love to try this dish!” Papyrus was beaming as he examined his food, his smile was just so cute.

Nox seemed better off eating in silence, but you couldn’t fake a smile of content like his. Blue was engulfing his noodles, you had to suppress a chuckle when he stared fanning his mouth, of course the food would still be hot. You poked at the carrots you had in your bowl, you were hoping they were cooked right and not too hard. After one bite you were delighted to find it had a little crunch but it was cooked properly.

“Whatcha call this anyway?” Asked Stretch, twirling his fork.

“It’s kinda like Alfredo but with a few stuff added in, it doesn’t really have a name. I just made this dish up one night when I was super hungry and didn’t want to go out in the pouring rain to get food, the only difference is the veggies.” You were slightly embarrassed in telling the story, despite it being true.

“Its still good though, you should invent dishes more often!” Said Blue, shoveling another bite into his mouth.

You smiled, thankful the food was cooked well. Ash and Poplar really seemed to like this dish, you wondered if it was because of the vegetables or the sauce. Either way it was cute seeing him try to get at least one of each veggie on his fork along with the noodles.

Soon everyone had finished eating and cleanup was underway, you noticed how quickly the sun had begun to set. Yep winter was fast approaching, cleanup didn’t take long at all with everyone helping out. Once everything was washed and put away for the evening it was time to bust out dessert. You hurry back to the van where you kept it, pulling out three large bags of marshmallows and a bag of frosted gram-cracker cookies. The top halves were frosted in chocolate, it’d make things a lot simpler.

“Ok boys time for dessert, we’re making s’mores!”

You handed each skeleton a long stick too use, they all were sharing a bewildered expression...had these boys not heard of s’mores?

“Do you guys know what s’mores are?”

“I’m afraid we don’t.” Said Papyrus.

“Oh well its a fun, interactive snack and common camping treat. I’ll show you how its done.”

You began by skewering your marshmallow, you got the large flat ones so it’d be easier for the skeletons to handle. You held your marshmallow over the fire, you loved this part so much, watching your marshmallow turn golden brown or even catch on fire and burn just a tiny bit. Once the marshmallow was done you showed them how to sandwich it between the gram cracker cookie, you told them that normally they’d have a plain gram cracker and a bit of chocolate to do it but you wanted to make it easier and quicker. You even mentioned that to them while you were making your s’more.

“An there you have it, your very own s’more!”

You held it up and showed them, you then took a big bite and just like you expected the marshmallow stretched out...and it tasted amazing. Gooey, sweet and crunchy, the chocolate was melting and it wasn’t dripping on to your fingers.

You watched everyone follow your lead, you also said they can just eat the roasted marshmallow if they wanted or the gram cracker cookie instead. Which was what some of them did, Russ was having fun making the s’mores. Awe he looked like a little kid when he took that first bite, Nox though didn’t seem that impressed and settled for just the cookie. Stretch was pouring some honey on his s’more, Blue was scolding him about it, Poplar and Ash were throughly enjoying making s’mores together.

Papyrus was yelling at Sans again, Sans marshmallow now turned into a comet, Red and Boss settled for the gram cracker and roasted marshmallows. It was cute watching them all experience a traditional treat of camping, you made another s’more and switched to just making roasted marshmallows. Nox was kind enough to get some drinks but just for you and Russ, when questioned by Blue he countered saying he wasn’t everyone’s servant and they all had legs that weren’t broken. An besides he got one for you cause you were a lady and you had prepared dinner, it was only proper.

After having your fill of marshmallows you were about to get up and start the process of cleaning up the dishes. Well that was the plan until you felt Poplar’s hand rest on your shoulder.

“No, no don’t get up. We’ll take care of clean the dishes and everything, you just relax.”

You blinked, surprised. “Are you sure, there’s a lot to clean up-“

Sans stood up. “Rule is if you make dinner then you don’t have to clean up the kitchen.”

“A rule that you don’t seem to follow brother.” Growled Papyrus but smiled. “But he is right human, you shouldn’t shoulder the burden of clean up. The ten of us will have it done in no time!”

“If your sure then alright, the communal wash station is just up the way there; Sans I’m sure you can show them.”

Sans nodded, everyone else got up and started cleaning up the kitchen tent area. Nox was sure that Russ didn’t slack off, Red wasn’t happy about being forced to get up and work but he couldn’t say much with Boss standing over him. You watched all ten skeletons shuffle off over the hill, it was nice of them to do the clean up but at the same time you felt kinda bad since you made a little mess while doing it. Well you knew how to remedy that!

You stood up, walked to the kitchen tent and started preparing mugs of your special coco for them. Coffee was going to be rationed so you felt slightly bad for Nox but it was too late for coffee anyway, you filled each mug carefully and smiled. You took some of the left over marshmallows and put them in the mugs, you had just put the last marshmallow in when the boys came back.

“Hey guys, the coco is ready if you want some.”

You didn’t have to say it twice, the boys were all over that coco. Though Nox wasn’t happy about not getting his coffee but he digressed, he put his marshmallow into Russ’s cup. You smiled an enjoyed your own cup, the rest of the night was spent chatting and playing word games with them. Word games like ‘Going to the picnic’ which was your favorite game cause you could be as sarcastic as you wanted to be.

After finishing the fourth game of ‘going to the picnic’ you checked your watch. It was fifteen minutes to ten, that meant bed time. You wanted to get up early to start the second day of camping.

“Ok boys its getting close to ten lets start getting ready for bed.”

Unlike with most people no one groaned, they all simply agreed that it was getting late and it was time to sleep. First thing you were going to do is take a shower in the communal showers nearby.

“H-Human are you going to take a shower?” Asked Russ.

“Yes, why you gonna get one too?”

You noted a lot of the skeletons looked...concerned, was something wrong with the showers?

“Actually we’re in need of showers as well, let us accompany you if you don’t mind.” Said Boss.

“Oh, well grab your things and follow me ok?”

That wasn’t a problem, you grabbed a bag with your toiletries inside along with your sleeping attire you picked for camping. You were about to leave when you noticed...only Russ and Boss had got their things. Everyone else was busy trying to find their things.

“Shall we go human?” Asked Boss.

“Don’t you want to wait for everyone?”

“They said to go on ahead, they’ll catch up with us.” Said Russ.

You shrugged and headed for the showers with Boss and Russ, you noticed they were walking very close to you...despite you were leading the way with one of the flashlights you brought with. You tried not to think about it, what you wanted was a shower. The hikes today had been sweat inducing and you wanted to freshen up, you walked into the women’s side and found you weren’t alone. Other women were in there from the other campsites.

It was fun chatting with them as you all showered together, one of them was a elderly woman in her mid-sixties enjoying her forty-fifth anniversary with her husband. You gawked at the number, wow forty five years. The other woman with you was a younger lady camping with her fiancée, you had a laugh with the two women comparing them together. The young lady getting married turning into the older married lady with many years of happiness.

You enjoyed chatting with them, once you dried off you walked outside. Boss and Russ were there having showered and changed, you hoped they didn’t wait long. You were escorted back, was it you or were the two of them very vigilant on the way back. You felt like one of the s’mores when they were walking so close to you, your arms were even touching them. Once back another group went to shower, it was weird but...you chalked it up to them being concerned with you walking in the dark. Though you were sure there were no wild animals.

You gave a small yawn and crawled into your tent, you took off your shoes and slipped on some thick socks. Your feet got cold quickly, your pajamas for this camping trip were sweatpants and a light sweater. It was gonna get kinda cold since it was autumn, you turned on your camping lamp before going back outside. You made sure everything was put away and the fire was properly put out with, once that was done you crawled back into your tent. You zipped up the flap in your tent but unzipped the other two sides, most of the skeletons had come back already.

You dimmed your light and took out a book, you weren’t quite sleepy yet so decided a book was nice for a while. You said goodnight to your boys before zipping up the flaps on both sides.

It was only ten minutes later you felt your eyelids getting heavy, you put a bookmark in the book, turned the lamp off and tucked yourself into your sleeping bag.

Lulled to sleep by the sound of nature....and some skeletons snoring.

To be continued..

[For context, I’ve gotten questions on why I had the reader start dinner at four. Where I’m from in the upper Midwest it gets dark very quickly in both Fall and Winter so for that reason why dinner started early, that and in my family we start cooking around 4-4:30 so that everyone can get something done before supper. Examples are making a call, doing a chore, going to deliver something etc. This is dedicated to the @bonelyheartsclub I hope you enjoy this I’m having a lot of fun writing these.]

#undertale #fanfic #bonely hearts club

126 notes · View notes

kayr0ss · 3 years ago

Text

Hands that Remember [AO3 Link]

[Horizon Zero Dawn, Elisabet Sobeck Lives, Found Family, Mother-Daughter Feelings, GAIA is recovering, Ereloy]

Summary: Aloy saw the recordings, felt their grief over the death of their culture - the loss of their identity. Ted Faro had blown away the light meant to guide humanity through darkness - but she was willing to risk it all to take it back. To bring APOLLO back. It wasn't the first time that the world asked her for a miracle, but it bargained with a miracle of its own: This time - she didn't have to do it alone.

[Wherein Elisabet Sobeck returns, GAIA is recovering, Erend is done waiting around, and Aloy discovers a family she's never had before to help lift the weight of the world off her shoulders.]

---

Chapter 1: Resurfacing

It was endless.

The dust and sand reminded him of the canyons north of Meridian—but it seemed harsher. Endless, expansive. Flat. He’d lost sight of All-Mother Mountain days ago and soon even the icy northern peaks of the Cut had fallen behind the horizon. All that was around him were rocks and packed earth.

Clouds of dust rose from under his footsteps, caught in a wind swooping over from further west. He wondered if they would reach the end of the world before the end of this desert. Did it just… stop? Was there an edge where everything ceased to be, a void down below ready to consume anything unfortunate enough to travel just a bit too far?

He grunted at his thoughts. Way too poetic. Been hanging around too many Carja these days—and not enough ale to drown out all the needless chatter.

What was Aloy doing out here anyway?

Still, he pressed on with gritted teeth, pulling up the fabric of his scarf above his nose. There was shelter up ahead. The faint purple glow he was following led him straight down its path: a ruin of the Old Ones full of rusting metal and crumbling rock. There were a few trees in the vicinity, tall and shooting straight up from the ground as though they were arrows.

“Must’ve taken shelter here,” he grumbled to himself.

It was a short trek to reach the threshold of the ruins. There was an archway holding a dilapidated sign, looking as if a strong kick to the base would be enough to knock it over. For a minute he entertained the thought, but what for?

A pile of metal junk lies near the perimeter of the building—one of those rectangular containers, similar to those dumped by the Old Ones in the scrapyard near Free Heap. The building itself was covered in vines and… flowers? That’s when he noticed the grass by his feet. It was lush and green, much like in the Embrace, and where plant life thrives it means—

“Water.”

He picked up his pace, falling into a jog. The journey had taken a toll on him. He was glad to have kept some empty water skins on hand—a fresh refill and his store of dried meats would be more than enough to last him the walk back. It was a small comfort against the mounting restlessness that clawed at the back of his mind, the feeling that he was never going to catch up with her at the rate he was going. He wondered if he’d tracked Aloy down this far west only to have her meet him on the road—already on the way back.

At least he hoped she was. Coming back, that is. He shook his head. Not the best time to think about that.

Further inspection revealed no machines in sight. Odd. Did Aloy clear the way already? Or was there something else, something that kept them away? The thought was unnerving, but he kept his hammer stowed away at his back. Couldn’t pick up any threats, anyway. No mines either, he nodded to himself. Stalkers could be ruled out.

He looked up towards the building. It was worn down, only the haunting twisted metal of its skeleton left standing, rubble littered at the base. “Probably fed a whole thunderjaw into a forge to build this one.” He chortled. “Great. Now I’m talking to myself. Right. Water.”

He followed the way to a patch where the growth was thicker. “Huh.” He paused, frowning. There were purple flowers arranged in a triangle too perfect to be natural. Some sort of stone seating structure was in the center and—

“Fire and spit!” he sputtered out, war-hammer pulled at the ready while he awkwardly regained his footing after nearly tripping. For some reason, even in the heat of battle he decided he didn’t want to step on the violet blooms that seemed so dainty and beautiful.

Was that… a person?

His frown deepened, brows knitting together as he looked over some sort of machine suit. It reminded him of the material Aloy had crafted over standard Nora leathers. He gently prodded at the suit with the end of his hammer’s grip. No movement. The overgrowth consuming it was an indication that it’d been sitting there for, well, a while.

He stepped in a little closer, laying a hand along the suit’s shoulder to dust it away. Cold. He recoiled.

Cold as death.

For a second or two he considered scavenging the strange machine-suit for parts, but quickly dismissed the thought when he realized there might be someone… inside. He stepped back, putting down his hammer. Oseram were delvers, not grave robbers.

I should probably go. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling intrusive and out of place, but one last look over the suit made him shake his head. Was this their home? He tried to imagine what the ruins might have looked before. Like Meridian, perhaps?

The person looked peaceful. Content. But it looked like a lonely way to go.

“You, uh…” he set a heavy gloved hand on the suit’s shoulder. “Have a good rest.”

The stillness didn’t last for very long. As he lifted his hand a cloud of cold, frigid gas began to leak from the small slits along the suit’s shoulders and joints.

The focus Aloy gifted him began to buzz, in sync with the deep onset of frantic panic at the pit of his stomach. By the forge did he break something? He stumbled backwards, hand coming up to tap his focus. Purple lights sprung to life—a spattering of odd blinking symbols and words that were enough to disorient him. Circles of light hovered highlighted portions of the suit, bringing up numbers and flashing words—counting down with urgency.

[WARNING: Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Atmospheric Seal Compromised]

"Seal?" What was that supposed to mean? He frowned. Too sober for this.

A disembodied voice buzzed into his ear—eerie and inhuman, like how the Shadow Carja’s god HADES sounded, except not quite as threatening. A woman’s voice.

[Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Oxygen Supply—Depleted. Ultraweave Terrestrial Suit Potable Liquid Tank—Depleted]

There was a chilling pause.

[External Personnel Detected. Assessment: User of FAS Standard-Issue FOCUS Unit Number ZERO-ONE-ONE-THREE - Assistance Required. Please attend to personnel within UTS Unit Zero-Alpha-Psi.]

“What am I—?!” He looked around in a panic, feeling out of his element. Was it talking to him? This was the sort of thing Aloy was good at! “What am I supposed to do?!”

[Please attend to personnel within UTS Unit Zero-Alpha-Psi.]

“You already said that.” He grumbled back, frustrated. Does that mean this thing—this…Old One—was still alive? Upon closer inspection he could see it: frost crawling out of the vents. Cold. Still as cold as death.

He couldn’t believe it. Frozen in time.

[Stand-by for assisted reanimation.]

He reached out towards the blinking lights across the rectangular badge on the suit’s odd chest plate. It responded to his touch with purple lights blinking into living words floating across his fingertips. He gasped.

He recognized that name.

[Disengaging Cryostasis Protocol. Stand-by for assisted reanimation. Projection: ninety-three minutes to thermal homeostasis.]

“Captain, what happened?”

Voices. Too far away. Or were they nearby? Damn. She couldn’t tell. Couldn’t even open her eyes. It was cold. So fucking cold—colder than Nevada had any right to be.

“Get blankets! Anything! Beladga, got any shirts you can spare?”

Why was everyone in a panic? Had she fallen asleep in the control center? Huh. She didn’t recall Travis sounding nearly as gruff as that.

Travis? The others—

She… she had a job to do. A mission. What was it? Everything felt distant—disconnected. She vaguely realized she that she was shivering but why? She tried to call out but realized that she was physically unable to speak, her throat feeling dry as sandpaper. Coughing erratically, she noticed that she was partially intubated with a sort of breathing apparatus.

[Seventeen minutes to thermal homeostasis. Please prepare for disengagement of auxiliary respirator.]

An automated voice was buzzing into her ear through her focus. She could feel her senses turning, along with the slight mobility of her limbs. It seems she was being carried—or rather, being laid down onto something soft. There were footsteps. Movements. The voices were hushed, secretive and confused. There was a soft yellow light through the ambiguous blur of color that swam around her vision.

[Auxiliary respirator disengaging.]

The machinery abruptly detached the mask from her nose and mouth. The sudden brightness made her recoil, her face feeling exposed. She fell into a fit of violent coughing—as if she had forgotten how to breathe. It was painful. God, it fucking sucked.

“Take it easy now,” said the voice from earlier. It was a man. He—He was speaking with her through his own voice. How is that possible? No one could survive out here without a suit. The atmosphere was too—

A sudden wave of nausea overcame her.

Memories of her last excursion came flooding back: the bunker door failing to seal. Her last transmission to the Alphas. Project Zero Dawn. GAIA—the Swarm!

Coming home.

Dying.

I’m supposed to be dead.

“I—” she rasped out, voice hoarse and jagged. Panicked.

“Whoa there,” there was a steady hand on her shoulder, helping her turn to her side. She felt something press against her mouth almost forcefully. “Drink this.”

“We got to get her out of that suit, captain.” There was another voice, female this time.

“I think—” the captain, she assumed, replied “—I think we need to wait a few more minutes. The device is telling me that—”

Everything was fading into black again.

“—else to go follow her trail, or just hope she comes back. She has to… she needsto see this. I just… Oh. She’s awake, I think.”

There was some shuffling. Once again, she was offered water. It was sweet this time. Did they mix in sugar? She tried to ask but she was so, so tired and…

Sobeck Journal, 1-27-66

I wasn’t going to see any of it anyway.

Best I can do is hope, I guess. The landscape is barren now – I’m kind of glad the other Alphas don’t have to see it this close up. Stings. I’m half-expecting to hear Patrick patch me in via holo, asking why I haven’t dragged my feet to the conference hall for the scheduled status briefing. He’ll take good care of the younger kids, him and Charles both. ZD and the Swarm seem so small and faraway now that I’m walking away from it all. Quite literally. Hauled my ass all the way to Nevada.

Glad mom isn’t around to see the ranch like this. When I close my eyes I can almost imagine it: the tall pine trees, the grass. Maybe I’ll get to see things the way they were before on the other side… wherever that might be.

I’m tired.

Time to rest.

She woke up with a jolt.

“Hey.

He was still there, sitting on the ground across from her and looking just as confused as she was. Her vision was clearer now—and every detail she managed to catalogue drove a spike of panic and confusion deeper into the hollow of her chest. They were in a leather tent lit by a small gasoline lamp in the corner. They seemed to be in the outskirts of an encampment, faraway enough to not be disturbed.

“I’m guessing this is freaking you out a little.” He scratched at the back of his head, unable to meet her eyes. He pointed to a waterskin laid down beside her bedroll. “Maybe get some more water in before you speak? I’ve got some dried meats too. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten in… a while.”

On the matter of guesses, she had a vague idea what might be going on. It was equal parts terrifying and exciting and a hundred percent something she did notask for.

She had an unfortunately stellar track record for hypothesizing, though. Chances of her guess being wrong were dreadfully slim. The cold. The scenery. Even the clinical tone and instructions of her Ultraweave Suit’s reanimation module—a system she helped develop herself, back when the prospect of sleeping through the disaster was considered an option.

It wasn’t. Not consistent enough to use en masse—not enough foresight to secure species continuity.

She took a drink of water, willing to steel her nerves before panic caught up with her executive faculties. She needed to orient herself with wherever it was she woke up in. Hell, forget where, the real question is—

“When… is it?”

He blinked. “Uh, today?”

“What year is it?”

The man’s expression softened—a look that didn’t quite fit with the rest of his character. He was big. Towering—even while seated on the floor—with broad shoulders and a figure strong enough to walk around with enough steel to build a car door, apparently. “You sound so much like her.”

“I don’t follow.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming along. She needed to eat.

“Sorry I—” he scratched at his beard. “It’s the reign of the 14th Sun-King, Avad the Liberator.”

Kings? Again?

“I’m Erend, captain of the King’s vanguard.”

He paused.

“You’re Aloy’s mother, aren’t you?”

fin

A/N: I'd like to acknowledge Tototops for doing an amazing job beta-reading this! It's always a pleasure, and my writing is always pushed to grow better with every suggestion and correction you help me with. x) And to my friends Sleepy, @theguardiandragon1, @saltypyrotato, @tanuki-pyon and Fridge for listening to my HZD manic fever ramblings and helping me make sense of the plot I had in mind.

Just finished the game about two weeks ago and read a bunch of fanfic. I consumed Writerly's Second Dawn (which is absolutely amazing!!!!), which is my foremost inspiration for even attempting to write fanfic of this wonderful franchise. I base a lot of my characterizations and format of story telling in this fic from their work, and hope to do so in a way which is still true to the unique plot I've set for it. I am very excited to be trying something new and to learn and get better along the way. Hope you all enjoy. :)

#Horizon Zero Dawn #HZD #Ereloy #Aloy #resident evil #HZD GAIA #Fanfic #Found Family #Elisabet is Mom #Elisabet Sobeck #Erend #Erend Vanguardsman #Adventure #Erend x Aloy

52 notes · View notes

totallynormalfanficauthor · 3 years ago

Text

The sound of the skeletal rooster crowing at the top of it’s nonexistent lungs was nothing new to Jack Skellington. It was the same sound he heard every morning- not that he cared. It woke him up just fine, so who was he to complain?

Jack turned over in his bed. He yawned and opened his sockets a tiny bit, waiting for his vision to adjust to the golden light of the pumpkin sun that was beginning to stream in from a nearby window. The first thing he laid eyes on was the beautiful river of red hair lying next to him. Sally was still asleep, resting on her side with her arms folded neatly in front of her. Her back was facing Jack, but he could hear her snoring softly. A warm smile came across his skull, and he sighed contently.

It had only been a month or so since the two of them were married, and Jack still found himself getting used to waking up with someone else in his bed. But he loved Sally with every ounce of his phantom heart; and wouldn’t have it any other way. Carefully, without disturbing her, Jack scooted closer and moved a piece of hair away from her cheek. He leaned down and kissed her gently, pressing his lips to the stitches that fell neatly under her eye. She stirred, but didn’t wake.

He sat up, stretched his back, and decided now would be the best time to get up. Jack crawled out from under the blanket and finally to his feet. Yawning one last time, he headed straight for the closet, ready to get dressed and start his day.

Jack cracked the egg into the pan, listening as it sizzled. After getting dressed and coming downstairs, he decided to make breakfast awhile. He wasn’t sure if Sally would be up before he had to leave, but, he always made enough for two just in case. At the very least, she could reheat it later. Or not- rotten eggs and toast were just as good cold.

As he prepared their plates, his mind wandered around as it always does. He thought about Sally.. how beautiful, and sweet she was. Jack could still hardly believe they were finally.. well, together together. He glanced down at his wedding ring, smiling to himself.

A slight creek of the floorboards caught his attention. He glanced up, half expecting to see nothing, but to his delight was instead greeted by the image of Sally standing in the doorway. She was still wearing her nightgown, which was white in color and very light. It was made out of a smooth, silky material and fell just a little ways past her hips. She smiled at him.

“..I thought I heard you get up.”

“Sally.” Jack smiled back. “Horrible morning, my love. Did you sleep well?”

“Just terribly, thank you. And you as well I trust?”

“As always.” Jack tilted his skull, keeping his gaze on his wife as he sliced their bread. “I apologize if I woke you..”

“Oh, no.” Sally shook her head, and finally made her way over to him. “I was already awake, I just heard the door close.”

“Oh, right. Well..” Jack leaned over and gave her a small peck on the cheek before motioning towards the stove. “I’m glad you’re awake, the eggs are almost ready. I hope that’s alright for this morning?”

Sally inhaled deeply. “They smell divine, Jack, thank you. It’ll do just fine but...you didn’t have to, really, I could’ve made something for myself”

“Nonsense, I’m happy to cook for you. Unless.. of course, you really wanted to? If that’s the case, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Jack” Sally reached up to cup his face. He fell silent at the gesture. “It’s okay, dearest. It's not a big deal who cooks for who. I appreciate you thinking of me” she patted the side of his face gently. “How about, if I cook dinner, then we’ll call it even?”

The skeleton chucked, “Deal.” And kissed her once more before reaching over and sliding the rotten eggs onto their plates one by one.

After the couple finished up their breakfast, Jack washed the dishes and decided it was probably a good time to get ready to head into town soon. He was about to go back towards his bedroom to get his shoes when Sally called him into their living room. She spoke to him as he entered.

“Jack, Could I make something…” she pointed downward to the little ghost sleeping at her feet. “…for Zero?”

He smiled at the thought. “Like what?”

“I’m thinking…” she tapped her chin. “A scarf?”

Jack walked over and sat down on the couch next to her. He reached for her hand, squeezing it. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Sal.”

“Do you? Good.” She squeezed his hand back and leaned close, so their noses were almost touching. “I hoped you’d think so..”

Her sudden closeness caught him a little off guard, but Jack took the hint. “Of course..” he leaned forward and closed the gap between them, a bit relieved to have access to her lips this time. Sally kissed back and wrapped her arms around his neck, practically melting into him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist in response, enjoying this moment immensely. They probably would have continued, had a jarring noise not suddenly cut through the air.

Brrriiiing

The phone. It rang loudly, and startled both of them. Jack pulled away and looked in its direction.

“Probably the mayor…” his tone sounded slightly annoyed. He turned to Sally. “- I should get that.”

“Of course, go ahead.”

The king stood up and walked to the opposite side of the room where the phone was hanging on the wall. He hesitated, cleared his throat, then picked it up.

“Skellington residence. Jack speaki-”

“Jack!!” the mayor's voice rang from the other side. “Thank HALLOWEEN you answered! Where are you?”

“Ah, horrible morning, Mayor. Still at home of course-“

“There are things that need to be done, Jack!! Halloween is only 96 days away! Why aren’t you here yet, it’s not like you to be late!”

If Jack had eyes, he’d be rolling them. “I’d hardly call it late..”

“It’s late by YOUR standards! You’re usually in town by now, what’s holding you?”

“Er…” Jack glanced over at Sally, who was still sitting on the couch petting zero. “…I don’t know, nothing I suppose. We just finished eating, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Huff… alright. Terrible morning Jack, I’ll see you soon.”

The skeleton hung up the phone and sighed. Typical mayor, never letting him get an ounce of alone time.

Sally stood off the couch and walked over. “I take it you’re leaving now?”

“I’m afraid I must. I apologize.”

“It’s quite alright love, you have important things to take care of. I still need to get dressed, anyways” she brushed off her nightgown and stood on her tiptoes to give him one last kiss on the cheek. “…I’ll try to come visit you in town later, how about it?”

Jack nodded. “I would love that, thank you.” He glanced at the clock. “-I must be off. I’ll see you soon, Sal” he opened his arms and Sally came forward into his embrace. Her voice was muffled.

“See you soon, Jack. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It seemed to be a fairly average day in town. As Jack walked the streets he greeted people on the side like he always does, everyone happy to see him as usual. He was able to get to the town square in a reasonable amount of time, which was good, because the mayor was already there waiting for him. A small stack of papers were piled in his tiny hands.

“Jack!! There you are!” He called out to him as he approached. “Horrible to see you, you almost scared me half to life when you weren’t here!”

Jack sighed. The Mayor can be so dramatic sometimes. “Horrible to see you as well, Mr. Mayor. Shall we get started for the day?”

“Ah, yes! Of course”, the shorter man cleared his throat and lifted the papers up to his face. “Firstly, we need to check in with all those who agreed to carve the pumpkins this year, to see how that’s progressing. You have a meeting with the vampires around 9:30… oh! And there are some documents in your office you’re going to need to have signed by tomorrow”

Jack nodded as he listened. “Very well, that all sounds… manageable. I suppose we should get started.”

“Yes! Let's not waste any more time” The mayor tucked the papers under his arm and scurried off in another direction. Jack folded his hands behind his back, and reluctantly followed.

Jack Skellington found himself to be more tired than he thought he was. Or, maybe he was just bored. Or perhaps, a bit distracted. Maybe a little of all three.

Most of his morning consisted of meeting with people. Checking in on the pumpkin carving, the training of the bats, etc etc. He was almost relieved when it came time to finally head back to his office to sign those documents the mayor spoke of. Typically the same ones each year, so Jack didn’t mind.

The skeleton was sat at his desk, writing away with his quill. He tapped his foot lightly and hummed to himself. He was almost through all the papers, when there was a knock at the door. He looked up.

“Come in.”

The doorknob turned slowly and the door opened. Jack sat up straight and smiled upon seeing who his visitor was.

“Hello there, Sally.”

“Hello, Jack.” Sally walked over to him happily, hands placed behind her back. “...I came to see you, just like I said.”

“So you have” the skeleton chuckled and stood from his seat, coming around to meet her on the other side of the desk.

“How was your morning?” She asked him.

“Relatively normal, the meetings ran smoothly. The vampires seem happy with their new role. How about you?”

“Very good, thank you. I’ve already designed out a plan for Zero’s scarf- I think I’m going to head across town to buy some fabric for it after lunch.” She moved her head forward and leaned against her husband, taking his hand. “...I missed you, you know..”

“Awe, it’s only been a couple hours” he squeezed her hand back, “..I missed you as well. I felt bad leaving you so suddenly this morning.”

“It’s nothing to feel bad about, dearest. You have important… kingly duties that need attending too.”

“Yes, but” Jack straightened his back to face her, brushing a piece of her hair to the side and cupping her cheek lovingly. “...Nothing is more important to me than you are.”

Sally blushed a bit. “Well… I’m here now.”

He chuckled again, “True. And in that case..” Jack brushed his thumb along the side of her lip, and wrapped his free hand around her waist. “May I?”

“Of course..”

With both their eyes closed, they leaned in. Their lips barely brushed together when a loud bang was heard and the door suddenly swung open.

“Jack!” the Mayor shouted as he strutted into the room, “Some of the ghosts have requested a meeting with you for this afternoon! Did you finish signing the-” he halted suddenly, noticing the image of the king and queen in front of him. “-papers….”

Jack and Sally jolted away from each other, embarrassed. It would be one thing if they were in a private area, but technically Jack was supposed to be working right now. He let go of Sally and stared blankly at the mayor. It was quiet for a second, before the short politician spoke again.

“Is this… a bad time..?”

“No..” snapping out of it, the skeleton cleared his throat and shook his head. “-No! No, no, it’s alright. What is it that you need, Mayor?”

“Well… ahem.” he adjusted his papers, “-I was just coming to check if you were finished! Like I said, the ghosts have a matter in which they wish to speak with you about, they were hoping for this afternoon.”

“I see..” Jack glanced at Sally- who was staring at the ground- before walking back around the desk to check his meeting schedule. “...I should have enough time to fit something in. Let them know I’ll come find them as soon as I can.”

“Will do! How are the documents coming along?”

“Just fine, I’m almost finished.”

“Right, well… try to get done as quickly as possible! Remember there’s a lot to do today. I’ll check back in soon!” As he turned to leave again, he realized he hadn’t even acknowledged Sally. Not wanting to be rude, he tipped his hat to her awkwardly. “-horrible morning, Mrs. Skellington.”

She forced a smile and waved. “Morning..”

With one last nod, the Mayor turned and walked out the door. It shut with a very satisfying click.

“Call me crazy, but...” Jack sat down in his chair. “...I don’t think we seem to be having very good luck today.”

“Well, that was certainly.. something.” She laughed nervously. “Doesn’t seem that way, does it? I should probably get going.”

“Awe, so soon?” He teased. Sally rolled her eyes.

“Nice try, Mr. Skellington. You’ve got documents to finish.” She thought for a moment. “How about.. If we meet up for lunch instead?”

“Horrific idea! I’ll come find you in… an hour maybe? How about it?”

Sally smiled, heading towards the door. “Sounds good, my love. I’ll see you soon.”

“You as well…” She blew Jack a kiss before finally departing.

The skeleton sighed, slightly frustrated about being interrupted again, and annoyed that he’s back to work when he knows he’d much rather be spending time with his wife. Just one day… that's all he’d ask for. But.. he’ll get to see her again soon. Just knowing that she’ll be waiting to have lunch with him was enough to brighten his mood back up a bit. Picking up his quill, he dipped it in ink, and continued right where he left off.

“This was a great idea, Sal.” Jack smiled at her as they walked along the side of the street, hand in hand. The restaurant they were going to eat at was just a few buildings away. “It feels like it's been ages since we’ve eaten out like this.”

“Oh, I agree” The ragdoll fluttered her eyelashes. “-And the nicest part is, we can spend more time together. I know we usually eat lunch just the two of us, but, It does feel like you’ve been rather busy as of late..”

“Ah, yes. Once we hit less than 100 days until Halloween.. My schedule can get pretty crowded.” He squeezed her hand, “-but you know I’ll always make time for you, just say the word, day or night.” Sally giggled.

“I know… but I do hate to bother you when you’re busy.”

“I’ll never be too busy for you, Sally” The couple exchanged a heartfelt glance as they approached the doors to the restaurant. Jack held it open for her, bowed, and winked.

“-After you, my Queen.”

The two chose to sit in the back, in a small secluded booth where they could finally be alone. They placed their drinks, which came rather quickly, and then their orders. Sally finally relaxed her shoulders and sighed.

“I forgot how nice this place is..” She admitted, “How long has it been since we were here?”

“Hmm…” Jack thought for a moment. “...I don’t think we’ve been here since before our wedding.”

“Oh, my. Well then, I’m very glad you could make it here with me.”

“As am I..” he hesitated, before adding. “..The mayor seems determined on keeping us apart today, doesn’t he?”

She laughed. “It does seem that way. I think he just wants you to stay focused on Halloween.”

“Ohh, come on now. I’m plenty focused.”

“Really? You weren’t thinking of me at all, earlier?” She teased him.

“Well…”

“That’s what I thought.” Sally laughed, grabbing the top of her straw and moving it to sip her Drink. Jack tried not to smile but couldn’t help himself.

“Alright, you got me. Maybe I was a little distracted…” he reached across the table and placed his hand on top of hers. “But how could I not be, when you’re so…” He searched his head for the right word, “...alluring.”

She blushed a bit and intertwined her fingers into his. “You aren’t bad yourself, you know..”

The skeleton chucked, and opened his mouth to reply before being instantaneously cut off by a loud voice echoing through the restaurant.

“JACK!! There you are!!”

For the love of the Pumpkin Patch you have GOT to be kidding me.

Jack turned around and sure enough, the mayor was rushing towards them with his unhappy face flipped. As he ran up to them he showed absolutely zero regard to the fact that he was OBVIOUSLY barging right into their date.

“Mayor-”

“JACK!! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!! We have a problem, we need you to come quick!”

He glanced at Sally, then back to the mayor. “Surely, this can wait? I haven’t even-”

“NO!! There’s been an accident with the pumpkins!! We need you right NOW!!”

The king sighed. Never a moment's peace. He looked at Sally, who had an expression of pity on her face. He felt absolutely horrible that their moment was being ruined yet again. And for a reason that was probably unnecessary, knowing how the mayor tends to overreact. But, it was clear he wasn’t going to leave without Jack.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be right there..” He turned to his wife. “Sally-”

“No, Jack. It’s okay. I understand, this seems important.” She took his hand and they both stood out of their seats. “I’ll just take our food to go, okay? See you at home, dearest.” Jack nodded solemnly, kissed her once on the cheek and took his leave, following closely behind the mayor. Annoyance burned in the back of his throat, but he tried to swallow it and decided to just deal with the situation as quickly as possible. The sooner he could get home to Sally, the better.

Truth be told, Sally expected this sort of thing to happen. The mayor… he was always like this. Could never seem to take a hint. But it was alright, it couldn’t be helped. She understood that perfectly.

The ragdoll was back at Skellington manor now, sitting on the second floor in her sewing room. She was currently working on that scarf she wanted to make Zero. As disappointed as she was that her date with Jack a few hours ago was cut short, she was at least somewhat glad to get started on this. After leaving the restaurant she spent some time around town, chatted with the witches a bit, purchased the fabric she needed and even was able to call and have a short conversation with Jewel over the phone.

For Zero’s scarf she picked the color combination of black, white, and orange, thinking it would go well for the ghostly pup. At the moment, he was sleeping soundly at her feet, seeming unaware of the gift his mistress was making him.

Sally glanced at the clock, wondering how long it would be before Jack would return home. Almost on cue, she heard the front door open.

Jack was exhausted after today. Sure, he got lots of work done, but it seemed to be that the one thing he wanted to do was the one thing he couldn’t - spend time with his beloved. While yes, they have all the time they could want together during most of the evening and the night, but it doesn’t feel much the same. He wanted to be able to do more with her, spend time around town, without getting interrupted constantly. He knows that he usually gets busy around this time- but- this would be the first time experiencing a busy rush while being a married man.

Jack shook his head to clear it. He reminded himself that this won’t be his only opportunity- that didn’t stop him from being annoyed, however. But he was home now. So it no longer mattered.

He slipped off his shoes, and then his suit jacket, hanging it up by the door. “Dearest?” he called, “I’m h-!”

Jack’s sentence was cut off as Sally came at him suddenly, jumping and wrapping her arms around him. He made an ��oof’ sound as her weight was thrusted onto his chest, rather unexpectedly.

“Sal..”

“Welcome home, my love!” she cooed.

“Ah...haha..thank you. I’m glad to finally be here.”

“So am I..”

“What have you been up to..?”

“Oh, nothing much. But I have been waiting for you. What do you say we relax a bit? Before making dinner?”

“After today? I’d love nothing more.” The skeleton chucked and let go of her. They walked across the room to the lunge area, sitting back on the couch where they were that morning so they could be more comfortable. A bit of cuddling would really hit the spot right now.

Jack sat down and opened his arms to her, to which Sally took the invitation right away. She fell into his lap with no hesitation, then onto her back to the side which pulled him down next to her. They wrapped their arms around each other and Sally nuzzled herself into his collar. She sighed blissfully through her nose.

“I needed this… I love you, Jack..”

“I love you too” Jack smiled, he tilted his head down and left soft kisses across her cheek that trailed down the stitches by her lips. She giggled at this, about to turn her head to kiss him back when,

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

The doorbell screamed loudly, once again startling the both of them. Jack, fed up, expressed his annoyance out loud this time.

“Are you serious right now..”

Sally couldn’t help but laugh. “You were right, it’s just not our day, is it?”

“I don’t feel like getting up…”

“Jack, go answer the door please.”

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

It rang again. Jack grumbled.

“This is getting kind of ridiculous..”

“Sweetheart, the sooner you answer the door, the sooner you come back here.”

As ticked off as he was, Jack knew she was right. Reluctantly, both of them sat up and let go of eachother. The king got off the couch and began making his way towards the door.

SCCRRRREEEEEEEECCCHHHHHH!

“JAAACK?? ARE YOU HOME?”

The third screech was accompanied by the mayor's voice. Go figure. Whatever he wanted, it better be important. He was ecstatic when Jack opened the door.

“Ah!! There you are!! I thought I'd seen you come back here.” Trying to stay patient with him, Jack just nodded.

“Yes, do you need something, Mr. Mayor?”

“Right, of course! I just wanted to bring you these.” He held out a stack of papers in his hand. He explained, “..These are the things I’ve gathered that need to be done in the next two days!! There’s quite a bit on there… I figured you might want to get a head start!”

He took the stack from him and examined it. He was right… There was a lot. But Jack really wasn’t in the mood for this right now.

“..I see. Thank you, Mayor, I’ll be sure to get started as soon as possible.”

“Horrible to hear!! Well, I have to get going. I’ve got a few more things to organize myself- have a terrible night, Jack!”

“You as well.” He bid him goodbye, and shut the door behind him.

Finally back inside, Jack dropped the papers onto the counter. He paged through them briefly… It could take a while to get through this. It would probably be wise to start that night.

But no.

Right now, all he really wanted to do was be by Sally’s side. Just to hold her, and not have to worry about anything for a little while.

He brushed the papers off to the side, deciding right then that he would deal with it tomorrow morning. Because right now, he finally, FINALLY had the one thing he wanted all day.

Just him, Sally, and their love for eachother.

He could never ask for anything better.

46 notes · View notes

monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

Text

Non-binary lich x reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

This has been up on Patreon for a week now on early release. New stories for Tumblr go up on Wednesdays at the moment and are available there for a whole week before they hit Tumblr, so if you want to have access to the next one (it just went up), make sure you’re on the $5 tier. I’d love to have you as the newest member of the Patreon supporters!

Anyway, contents: It's 7688 words long, features a non-binary, skeletal lich, is set in a fantasy setting, and I don't think it comes with any warnings. Looking forward to your reaction!!

“So, you’re the new librarian…”

The softly rasping voice behind you startled the life out of you, and you dropped the three-volume stack onto the thick, oak table with an undignified squawk. The boom rang out through the castle library and one or two scholars shot glares at you over the top of their research. Turning, you found yourself face to face with a moving skeleton and your eyes widened even further.

Wearing a long, unadorned, shapeless, black robe with the hood pulled right up over the bare ivory of the skull, the figure had a glowing green light in their eye sockets and one of their teeth had been replaced at some point by a silver prosthetic. More than that, you couldn’t say, but it was apparent that their entire body was just a humanoid skeleton beneath the billowing robes.

And then the penny dropped. “Oh!” you gasped, straightening a little. “You’re… You’re Avery… the court mage…” How many liches could one royal castle have after all?

They dipped their head in a curt bow. “Indeed.”

“I’m sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting…”

Another little bow. “It’s quite alright. I realise that meeting a someone like me for the first time can be somewhat… unnerving.”

You opened your mouth to counter them, but realised it was actually true, and just nodded. “How can I help you anyway?” you asked instead.

They seemed to appreciate the segue into safer waters, and told you the name of the tome they were looking for. “It’s essentially a compendium of plants and fungi that grow only on the fringes of Silver Perch Lake in Aragantia,” they added. “A somewhat… specialised catalogue, I’m aware.”

With a nod, you headed to the vast catalogue system and in almost no time at all, especially given how new you were to the post, you and the court mage were walking silently through the shelves of the royal library in search of the book’s location. Avery made no attempt to talk to you, and you assumed they preferred it that way. After all, you supposed, what could a humble librarian have to say to a necromancer and a mage as powerful as them anyway? In your relatively limited experience of mages, they tended to look down on anyone not powerful or supposedly intelligent enough to wield magic.

As you proceeded further and further into the dark stacks, the light dwindled to almost nothing, and in that moment you cursed the innate flammability of paper and parchment, longing for a lamp of sorts.

Slowing, and trying not to fumble, you squinted and ran your fingertips along the shelves to keep a straight course. During your interview for the position, you’d been told about the glowing crystals that the team of three librarians had access to, but apparently you were still too junior to warrant their secrets yet. It had not been expected, it seemed, that someone as important as Avery would require your assistance. Re-shelving returns in the main library was all you’d done so far in your short tenure after all.

“Here,” the lich said from behind you, the word spoken aloud making you jump all over again, and a moment later, a flickering ball of blue light wafted past you to float a pace or two in front of you. It moved when you did, bobbing slowly.

“Handy,” you grinned back at them over your shoulder. “Thanks.”

In the eerie pulsing light, the dark sockets of their skull and the smooth bone looked almost frightening, but you reminded yourself that this was not an old haunted castle from a horror story, and was in fact the hub of a great trading network whose machinations were aided by the work of the court mage, who also just happened to be a lich and, by extension, a necromancer.

With no expression at all to offer you comfort or reassurance, Avery just lowered their gaze and waited for you to move on again.

The book was right where it should have been - thank all the library gods - and once their skeletal hands had taken it reverently from you, little bones clicking softly as they shifted, Avery turned and left you in the stacks with a short ‘thank you’, the light light for company, and a thousand questions buzzing around your head.

Naturally, the first place you went after that was the section on liches and phylacteries, and there you lost yourself for well over an hour.

After that, the court mage found their way back to the library almost every time you were on duty. To your surprise, they were actually quite chatty, answering your tentative questions about their research with long and interesting answers, leafing through the book they’d just taken out to show you a diagram or ritual, constellation, or phase of the moon, and relaying its relevance to their work at the time without reserve.

“I’d always thought mages were secretive about their work,” you ventured one afternoon as sunlight flooded into the open study room at the back of the library where Avery had set up camp for the afternoon.

At your words, they looked up, an oddly tense and intrigued set to their head and you got the impression that, had they had the body to go with the bones, they might have been smiling curiously. “Why do you say that?”

“Well,” you began, feeling a little warm under the collar. Their close scrutiny made you shuffle and turn a little away from them to lessen it. “At the university, your lot always kept to themselves, you know? And no one else was allowed in their section of the library without a mage escort and a note of recommendation from about fifteen different tutors… I got it eventually, of course —”

“— of course,” they interrupted with a wry smile in their voice.

Their tone may have been light and joking, but it carried the weight of enormous respect too, and you choked for a moment before babbling on again. “I’m not suggesting that anyone should just go in and help themselves to dangerous magical texts, don’t get me wrong… It was just… frustrating to be treated like that, that’s all.”

You turned to find them still regarding you with that birdlike curiosity and for a moment you forgot that they were little more than an immense reserve of magic holding together a stack of humanoid bones and wearing a dark robe. It might have been comical to see them that way, but honestly, in that moment, their blazing intelligence and slightly off-the-wall humour endeared you towards them even more. It wouldn’t have been a secret to suggest you had the beginnings of an almighty crush forming. If you didn’t beat it back soon, it would become unwieldy and unmanageable, and it wouldn’t end well for either of you. A member of the castle staff you might have been, but the court mage was one of the most powerful figures in the entire kingdom, and not meant for the likes of you.

And anyway, who was to say that there was anything about you to interest them anyway? The whole point of becoming a lich was to strip away all earthly connections save for the absolute fundamentals - the skeleton - and become an entity largely made of magic, the better to channel it. There were, you had to admit, one or two cases of liches binding themselves to living lovers, and accounts detailing the fierceness and loyalty of those rare unions had left you breathless as you’d scoured the volumes on liches all those weeks ago, but you couldn’t assume that Avery would be such a person after all.

If they had given a reply, you didn’t hear it behind the buzzing, rushing disappointment in your ears at that thought. Closing yourself off a little, you excused yourself politely and returned to your duties in the library beyond, leaving them alone in the study room. After all, Avery still had to figure out a way to harness the power of the sea itself in order to reduce the risk to life of those currently engaged in preparations to dredge and deepen the large trading harbour along the coast. Such complex calculations were hardly in the realm of a librarian.

About a week later, as you sat in the servant’s parlour one afternoon, where most of the castle staff gathered during their time off, a bookish young satyr, with curly, ash blond hair and contrastingly dark brown skin and horns, the stoop of a scholar, and a pair of round, gold-rimmed glasses sliding down his nose, approached and asked for you by name in a warm, stutter-laced tenor.

“Yeah, that’s me…” you said, turning from your conversation with one of the naga guards. “What’s up?”

“Y-Y-You’re the llll… the lllll…” the words just died on his tongue or stuck there like treacle, refusing to leave one syllable and move onto the next, but he took a breath and on the exhale said, “Librarian…?”

“I am,” you said. “If you need something from the stacks though, I think Timothy is on duty today.”

He nodded. “I… I know. Avery… sss-sssent me to… to llll… to lllllook for you. They’d llllike you to… to… to…” At the repetition, his cheeks flushed a bit, but you waited him out and he rallied. “To attend them in their t-t-t-tower to c-c-consult on something.”

“Oh. Really? What… now?” you asked and the satyr nodded. He had a flighty, twitchy energy to him, but his features were kind and open and you decided immediately that you liked him. You turned back to the naga with whom you’d been sharing tea and easy conversation, and shrugged. “Guess I’ve been summoned. See you later.”

She nodded and hissed, “Good luck…” at you and you followed the young scholar out of the parlour. His large hooves clopped conspicuously on the stone of the passageways and he set quite the pace for you to keep up with.

“Are you… like… Avery’s… assistant or something? I’m sorry, I don’t know the technical names…”

He nodded. “Name’s D-Devon,” he said as he ducked left through a doorway and held it open for you to follow. “Apprentice m-mmage and runec-c-caster.”

“Sweet,” you said, impressed. “I studied some very basic runes for another project a long time ago, but I’m not really magical in any way, so… I didn’t pursue it. Is it as complicated as I remember?”

He smiled sweetly and shrugged. “Varies…”

You smirked and said, “That sounds like you’re being modest and generous, but I’ll let it slide. What does Avery need from me anyway?”

With a soft chuckle, Devon pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and shrugged, beginning to climb a tight, spiral staircase. “Nnnot sure. They’ve been di-di-distracted all morning.”

“Guess I’ll just have to find out. I’ve never been up to the mage’s tower.”

The staircase went on and on forever and you actually had to stop for breath twice, rather embarrassingly. Devon was fitter than his scholar’s physique suggested, but he didn’t comment. You supposed doing this every day would build up anyone’s cardiovascular system in no time. “The view had better be worth it,” you grunted as you started up the last stretch of spiral staircase, and Devon nodded.

“Oh, it is.”

“Thank all the gods,” you hissed.

The door to Avery’s study was open, letting light flood in from the room beyond. For some reason, you’d imagined it would be dark and intimidating, and possibly full of bats and spiderwebs and creepy cursed objects in display cabinets, but theirs was a chamber full of bright light and warm colours. Taking half a moment to catch your breath again, you paused on the threshold while Devon headed on inside with evident and easy familiarity to inform Avery that he’d found you.

“Ah wonderful,” came that papery voice from inside. As you heard it, you wondered how a skeleton - with no vocal cords - could produce sound, deciding to chalk it up to magic and move on. “Thank you, Devon. Would you mind running over the plans for the layline ritual one more time while we have a quick chat?”

“Nnnnot at all,” Devon smiled, and disappeared into another room out of sight.

The delicate tread of footsteps on the bare floorboards announced Avery’s approach, and you stepped inside, not wanting to be seen to be lurking nervously. “Hi,” you breathed, still a tiny bit winded, as they moved into view around the huge trestle table that occupied the centre of the room. It was littered with books and pieces of velum, scrolls, and ancient clay tablets, all stacked at frankly alarming and precarious angles.

“Hello,” Avery said with a real warmth in their voice. You could hear the smile, even if they had no lips to form the gesture. “I apologise for making you come all the way up here. I realise it’s a long way from your usual quarters and duties.”

It was true - the library was in an entirely different wing of the rambling old citadel, and your sleeping quarters were again on the far side of that from the tower.

You shrugged. “It’s nice to see a new bit of the castle, I suppose.”

They tilted their head, the movement almost birdlike. “You haven’t seen all of it?” they asked.

You shook your head. “Only the bits I need to. Besides, I’ve only been here a couple of months now.” And in that time, you’d seen Avery almost every day at your library desk. “What did you need me for?” you asked with no small degree of incredulity in your voice.

With a little chuckle that honestly sounded a little nervous, Avery turned to a small writing desk that was tucked up against the stone wall beside a window with a spectacular view. They picked up a scroll and undid the ribbon that held it together, and you found your eyes fascinated by the tiny finger bones of their hands. You wondered what they’d feel like against your skin and flushed hot again, unable to look Avery in the face.

“This is a copy of an inscription that was found in a tomb just north west of here, and while I am familiar with the writing system used, I cannot crack the meaning of it. I’m sure it’s right there, but… I wondered, since you mentioned you’d studied the Early Peoples, if you might take a look at it for me?”

You blinked. “You can’t read it?”

“I can read it,” they said, “But I don’t understand the words. I know the symbols upon which the language is based, but not the language itself.”

“I thought there was nothing you didn’t know,” you murmured fondly as you stepped over and took the parchment from their extraordinarily delicate looking hand. The urge to touch grew once more almost overwhelming.

A soft snort of laughter almost in your ear sent shivers down your whole right side, the skin prickling into goosebumps. “Please,” they scoffed good-naturedly. “Besides, if I knew everything already, I wouldn’t need to make such frequent trips to the library, would I?”

“And here I thought you were coming all the way down there just to visit me,” you quipped self-effacingly, turning your attention to the inscription and missing they way they went completely still before shaking their head ever so slightly.

It took longer than your pride might have liked for you to figure it all out, and you sent Avery scuttling about their office for three different dictionaries and half a dozen grammar tables before you were happy that you’d got it right. Devon had long ago excused himself for the evening, but you’d barely even noticed him leaving, though the murmur of their soft conversation had drifted around you for quite some time while you teased out a bit of odd grammar.

When you looked up at last, you found Avery standing alone by the window, bathed in the rosy light of sunset. The rich, warm rays made the black of their robes seem dull and almost drab - humble beyond what you’d have expected of a court mage with the coffers of the castle at their fingertips - and the angle of the light blazing into their face almost eclipsed the green, misty glow in their eye sockets. For just a moment, they almost looked like nothing more than an ordinary skeleton in an anatomy lab. When they felt your gaze on them, however, they turned - every bone animated and shifting fluidly, bone scraping with a soft, familiar whisper over bone.

They cocked their head again and you smiled. “All done, I think,” you said, standing from where you’d been hunched over the small, cluttered writing desk, and cracking the tension out of your neck with a grunt.

“Thank you,” they murmured. “I am indebted to you yet again, it would seem.”

You shrugged. “What’s it for anyway?” you asked. “I mean… I don’t really see how knowing that the sun will hit the back of the tomb on the winter solstice is of much use to anyone…”

They gave another little movement of their head that seemed like a pout to you, though you had only the bare skull to go from. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure. The tomb contained artefacts that thrummed with energy, so it would indicate that the Early Peoples had access to - and some degree of control over - magic too. Perhaps that date was of significance to them too. I will have to return to the site on the solstice to find out. Then we’ll know if it was of any ‘use’ as you say, or if it’s just interesting.”

“I see,” you said and your stomach chose that moment to growl at you like a spoiled house cat.

“Would… Would you like to stay here for some supper? I can have food brought up here to my chambers if you’ve missed out…” they said awkwardly, turning away from the window and back towards the central trestle table. As they moved the line of gilded sunlight slid from their delicate brow bones and plunged their skull into shadow again behind the hood. You’d never seen them without it raised. “It’s… later than I realised…”

“I’d have thought you could just magic some food up for me,” you grinned, honestly hoping it would disguise the fluttering nerves you felt at the thought of sharing a meal up here. Plus, their tone had gone inexplicably sad somehow.

They looked down at the table and said, “I could do that, of course, but transmuted food tastes awful, or… so I’ve been told. I don’t eat any more for… obvious reasons.”

“Do you miss it?” you blurted.

They stilled and trailed a bony fingertip across the wood. “Yes and no. I miss the pleasure that eating my favourite things brought me.”

“You still remember the taste…?”

Fixing you with a steady, if sidelong, look, they said, “I’m not that old, you know?”

“I…” you said and then stopped when they started laughing. “What?”

“I have to admit that I find it immensely entertaining any time someone assumes I’m a thousand years old. I’m not. I’m only thirty.”

“Thirty?” you gawped. “That’s… That’s so young to —” again, you cut yourself off before you said something truly insensitive, but Avery didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m used to it. And it is indeed young to have your physical form completely stripped bare in exchange for unfathomable magical power. It’s not a choice made lightly, and it’s not a choice that everyone would be prepared to make. It’s rare these days for someone to undergo it willingly.”

Horrified, you blinked at them. “Willingly? You mean it’s inflicted on people?”

They shrugged. “Rarely. It’s hard to control a person’s soul like that, but with the right runes on the phylactery, it can be done. Mercifully, that wasn’t the case with me though, and if you’re caught, the punishment is severe.”

“So… how does someone so young get the position of court mage?”

With another rasping laugh like dry autumn leaves, Avery said, “As opposed to someone so old and experienced, you mean?”

You shrugged, still kind of mute with surprise at the new revelation, and they laughed again. “Sorry.”

“I went to university with the princess. We became friends, and she saw what I could do. I was still an elf then though.”

“You’re… You’re an elf?”

“I’m a lich,” they corrected, “But yes, I was an elf when I was officially alive. Did my short stature and particularly fine wrist bones not give it away?” they joked self-deprecatingly, proffering their pale wrist towards you to examine.

When you actually reached out and touched them, however, a spark like static jumped between you and you both gasped.

“Excuse me,” they gasped, withdrawing their hand immediately. “I… That hasn’t happened in a long time.”

“What was it?” you asked, rubbing your fingertips and thumb together where the skin tingled. It hadn’t hurt, and it left your entire body tingling all over beneath the skin, and heat was rapidly pooling between your legs.

“My magic,” they said. “It’s usually not as forward and ill-mannered as that. I apologise if it startled you.”

“Forward? Ill-mannered?” you asked, amused and intrigued. “You say that like magic has a personality…”

“It does,” the lich sighed, the bones of their ribs creaking softly.

While, academically speaking, you knew what any elven skeleton looked like, you still ached to know the exact shape of Avery beneath the black robes that draped shapelessly over them; the exact way their bones fitted together; the exact colour; any breaks they’d sustained, leaving the evidence in their skeleton… “Alright, but why… ‘forward’?”

“And here I thought I was being terribly obvious,” they muttered.

“Obvious?”

A tilt of their head in your direction served perfectly as a rueful glance, the ardour behind it striking you in the chest with an alarmingly painful pang, and exactly as it occurred to you that you’d learned to read Avery pretty well by now, you also realised precisely what they’d been insinuating. “Oh…” you said, imbuing the sound with significance.

“Oh indeed,” they said bitterly. “Never mind. I quite understand that the attentions of a lich are not… not what everyone would aspire to after all… I apologise if… if I made you uncomfortable. I will not persist.”

“Wait, slow down,” you said, stepping forward suddenly and trying to catch their gaze with your eyes. It was hard to tell where they were really looking, given that all you had to go on was the rough direction of their head and the soft glow in their otherwise empty eye sockets, but when you got the impression that they were looking directly at you, you spoke up. “I’m sorry,” you began.

“Don’t be sorry,” they hissed, trying to turn away.

“No, wait, that’s not… that’s not what I meant!” Finding you had no choice, you reached out and latched onto their wrist. The bones beneath the long fabric of the sleeves felt so achingly fragile that you almost recoiled for fear of hurting them, but you made your fingers loosen just a fraction and stayed put. You needn’t have worried anyway; Avery was tethered and still at your touch in a heartbeat. “I mean, I am sorry, but I’m sorry for being dense, not that you… you know…”

“That I’ve been so poorly attempting to flirt with you for the last month?” they finished dryly.

“Now that I know, why don’t we start over…?” you said, releasing them and smiling hopefully.

Adopting a truly sarcastic pose and tone, they held out their skeletal hand and said nastily, “I’m Avery, I’m a lich, and I’m apparently an appallingly poor flirt.” The ugliness in their voice was not directed at you, however. Avery had turned it back on themselves and it galled you to hear someone so brilliant sound so defeated.

Unflinchingly, you took their hand and stared fiercely back at the lich who had become your friend in these first months at the castle, and perhaps something more. “I didn’t mean to start over that far back, but I’ll play your game.” You added your own name and profession, that you were human, and finished by saying, “And I’m very much open to being flirted with by you, however poorly you think you do it.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Avery said, their thumb playing back and forth over your skin before promptly changing the subject. “You never did answer me about dinner though. Would you like to stay here and eat? Or would my not partaking make you uncomfortable?”

Sensing that they needed a moment’s diversion, you allowed them to skirt around the issue of being interested in you, and shook your head. “Dinner here with you sounds lovely. Plus the view is spectacular.”

“I knew it. You want me for my advantageous chambers,” they moaned, still deflecting defensively.

“I meant that there’s something to keep you occupied while you wait for me to finish, that’s all,” you huffed in response to their teasing. “But if the view bores you by now, I’m sure you could always read to me from some dusty old volume you’ve nicked from the library and neglected to return…”

“You wound me!” they said, placing both hands over their heart, or at least, where their heart would have been if they weren’t just a skeleton anymore. “Is there anything you don’t eat? Would you like wine?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m good with most things, as far as I know, and…” you bit your lip and then reluctantly admitted that actually a glass of wine might be really nice. Your salary was not so meagre that you couldn’t afford a drink or two in the local taverns, but you suspected a wine from the castle cellars might be a little more special.

Instead of ringing for a servant, Avery picked up a quill and a small piece of paper, and dictated their message aloud after a quick flick of their wrist had brought the quill to life. It skimmed across the page like a breeze-blown willow branch trailing through a pond, and as you watched, you wondered if that was what Avery’s handwriting looked like, or whether the script was a result of magic, or the quill itself. Either way, it was beautiful, and you suddenly thought of the rather romantic notion of having love letters penned to you in that hand…

Their voice turned more confident as they dictated the note to the quill. “I am entertaining a guest in my tower tonight. Please have a fine supper for one brought up to the mage’s tower at your earliest convenience, with a bottle of Aktissian red too, if you please.”

“Avery!” you gasped, recognising the quality of the wine purely from it’s location.

They shrugged and finished off the note with another brief gesture, and you watched as it disappeared with a little pop. “I like to dictate my messages in case the person on the other end cannot read. Not all of the castle staff have been blessed with our educations, after all. In such a case, it will read itself aloud.”

“That’s thoughtful of you,” you commented.

They shrugged. “It saves me sending Devon, or going myself and terrifying the wits out of the kitchen staff, or ringing for someone to trudge all the way up here, only to have to go back and return later…” It seemed odd to you now that Avery could be frightening to anyone, but you recalled your own unease at your first encounter, and merely smiled at them again.

Wherever the note had gone, it must have reached the right ears, because twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at Avery’s door and a castle servant entered with a large tray.

“Thank you so much,” Avery said as the half-orc set the meal down on the table.

“Anything else you need, mage?”

“No, that’s all, thank you.”

You chimed in with your own thanks and the servant left.

Avery waved a hand at the table where they’d cleared a space amid the chaos of stationary and books, and you sat yourself down. They lifted the lid of the silver cloche and revealed a beautiful supper that looked fit for the princess’ high table. Eyeing Avery, you caught a little glint in their glowing eye sockets, and you assumed that they were pleased too.

In fact, Avery did not read to you while you ate, but they did watch you rather intently. “You’re going to make me all self-conscious,” you muttered. “This is delicious though.”

“Would you rather I not watch you?”

“No,” you said honestly. “I’m just not used to such… intense attention…”

“You’re gorgeous,” they murmured awkwardly, voice rich and husky, as though their magic was crackling uncontrollably beneath the surface.

After a pause, during which you encouraged your heart to beat normally, and the poor organ took absolutely no heed of your pleas whatsoever, you said, “So are you…”

If Avery could have rolled their eyes, you were sure they would have. Instead, they just pressed their hands to the table and leaned back in their chair. “I’m just a pile of bones and magic now… I’m honestly surprised you permitted me the indulgence of courting you.”

“It’s not an indulgence, Avery. Well, maybe it is, but it’s an indulgence for me. Each visit you’ve paid to the library has left me in quite a state, I’ll have you know.”

The lich went still at that and then very slowly tilted their head to one side. “Oh?” they asked, voice dipping lower with obvious intrigue. “Care to explain that?”

With a half smile, you set down your cutlery on your empty plate and pushed back a little way from the table to make yourself more comfortable. Crossing your legs, you said archly, “Any time you come close to me, you leave me tingling all over. I don’t know if it’s your magic, or you, or what, but… When you were leaning over my shoulder back there —” you nodded over at the writing desk, memories of their right hand pressed to the wood as they peered over your shoulder at your progress, the heady scent of incense and ozone swirling around their robes, the particular timbre of their voice as they hummed in thoughtful understanding at your translation…

“Yes?” they prompted, voice cracking.

Heat coiled between your legs and in your lower body, slowly filling you with a warm, glowing sensation that shot up your spine and made your head spin. “I could hardly think,” you whispered. “It’s a miracle I finished the translation.”

The light in their eyes guttered and flickered before returning with a new, brighter intensity. Where before it had been a pale, pastel green, it now burned with a searingly hot blue.

“Avery?”

The lich sat there and stared at you before twitching their head and shoulders a little. “Forgive me. We… We probably shouldn’t move that quickly…”

You raised your eyebrows. “How quickly?”

“Quickly,” they said. “You deserve to be courted properly.”

“And what if I’m as impatient as you are?” you asked, heart pounding. Gods, you wanted whatever they had to give you and you wanted it now. You ached, inside and out. “It wouldn’t stop you from still ‘courting’ me if you wanted…”

Avery stood and then stalled. “I…” They growled softly in frustration and started again. “I am… I haven’t… not since…”

“Avery… I know what you are. I know what you must look like under that robe, and I still want you,” you said fiercely.

“Gods,” they hissed, turning to face you, eyes blazing blue.

“Your eyes?” you asked. “They’ve changed colour. Is that your magic?”

They nodded. “What… What would you like from me?”

“Touch me,” you said honestly.

“I can conjure… uh… a variety of physical… um… shapes…” they faltered awkwardly and your brain supplied the rest, but they raised one hand and you found that where the bones had been before, they now supported a ghostly hand. They turned it over to show you their palm and then flipped it over again. You could still see the bones through the spectral hand that moved like translucent, living glass.

You shook your head, “Come here,” you said, and they did.

You stood up and ignored their new spectral hand in favour of running one fingertip around the orbital bones of their skull. Avery shuddered, joints rattling audibly beneath the robes as it shivered down their whole skeleton.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked. “Could you create… a tongue for me?”

With a mute nod, looking stunned, Avery opened their jaw and you saw a glowing, green tongue inside, translucent and glistening.

Pressing your lips to their teeth felt odd at first, especially when the cool of that single silver tooth caught your lips, but when the tongue immediately lapped at your lips, begging entry, you forgot the strangeness of it. You came alive again beneath that kiss as Avery’s hands found their way to your waist and then up to the back of your head where they let their bony fingers snake through your hair before gripping you tightly and tugging until you pulled back with a gasp. Panting and dizzy you let Avery nip at your exposed neck, tongue occasionally laving at your skin, shockingly cool and leaving it tingling.

One of Avery’s hands palmed your groin questioningly and your knees nearly went out from beneath you. “Yes,” you gasped. “Oh gods, please… I want… touch me… please…”

Your chest heaved and you let them steer you back into your chair behind you. When you landed, they tenderly began to undo your waistband, and you lifted your hips to slide a little way free of your clothes. Avery’s eyes blazed as they stared at you, your arousal evident with your clothes around your ankles. “May I use this…?” they asked, opening their mouth to reveal that long, thick, prehensile tongue.

“Gods yes,” you blurted, lifting your hips weakly again. “Please… Avery… I need you…”

The lich knelt before you and hesitantly placed their skeletal hands on your thighs. Looking down at them, nestled between your legs, you felt like you could come just from that sight alone.

“I’m not going to last long,” you warned them, practically shivering with arousal. “Gods… Avery, you’re…” Whatever Avery was to you in that moment, you never got the chance to tell them.

The instant their tongue touched you, lapping teasingly at you to start with, magic and sensation roared through you, ripping along your nerves and wiping your mind blank of all but intense pleasure. The slickness of their conjured tongue, supple and almost like a tentacle as it pleasured you, and the coolness of the mouth behind, set against the firm, unyielding pressure of their bare bones digging into the muscle of your thighs hard enough that it would bruise, drove you to the quivering edge in minutes.

Your hands scrabbled helplessly at the arms of the chair, your hips bucked unbidden up into the sensations Avery was offering you, fire danced along your nerves, and your blood sang in your ears. “Avery!” you screamed in warning, and then, with one final flick and press of their tongue against your most sensitive spot, you shattered.

With your mind blank, vision dark, Avery tore your release from you and prolonged it, either with their magic or just by their presence, until you whimpered and slumped in the chair, limp and spent and ironically boneless.

Finally, after lingering just a little longer, Avery sat back on their heels and stared up at you, one hand still on your quivering thigh. “Beautiful,” they rasped. “Gods above and below, but you come so beautifully.”

“I’ve never… come like that,” you croaked, throat raw. Had you come so hard you’d made yourself hoarse?

Avery summoned a goblet of water from the table to their hand and stood. “Here,” they said.

You drank, and as you set the goblet shakily back on the table, you glanced at them and saw a glistening droplet slide down their exposed ankle bone and drip onto the floor. Seeing where your gaze had gone, they chuckled. “Am I expected to remain unaffected by what you just gave me?” they said archly as you did your own clothes up again, just enough not to be completely exposed any more.

“How…? What…?” You began, but then shook your head and leaned forwards. Tentatively, you reached out a hand for the front of their cross-over robes and unbuttoned them at the waist. Drawing the fabric slowly aside, you felt them tense, but you kept going and they permitted it.

As the final fitting came loose, the robes hung open like a coat and revealed their skeleton beneath. To your surprise, they were not merely an empty ribcage and spine, hollow pelvis and slender leg bones. Constantly swirling inside them like a mixture of phosphorescence and ink, was a kind of magical core. Like an entity all of its own, it pulsed and coiled, writhing with tendrils of light and darkness that played along their ribs and teased up their spine like ivy. “Gods, Avery, you’re stunning,” you murmured and looked up to find their face tilted downwards, regarding you carefully.

Your eyes roved down their body to their pelvis, where the phosphorescent light seemed to have coalesced, spiralling around their hip bone like swirling liquid in a glass and… dripping tangibly down their leg.

“Can I… touch it?” you asked and they nodded. There was a long drip of it running down their femur almost to the knee, so you brought your fingertip up and trailed it cautiously through the strange, glowing wetness. “Is it magic?” you asked as your finger went numb and then began to tingle rather enticingly. Gods, what would that feel like against your body… even… inside you? Now there was an unexpected thought.

“It’s… akin to… oh gods,” they hissed suddenly, their hand flying to your shoulder as you traced a circle through it on the very edge of their curving hipbone.

“Mmm?” you asked, not relenting but not moving anywhere else.

Struggling to form words, Avery tried again. “Akin to when a ghost becomes corporeal.”

“Your magic is coalescing like ectoplasm?”

“In a way, oh… oh… ohhhh,” they moaned, staggering as you moved further up the wide scoop of their hip bone towards their spine and back again. “I can’t… I can’t keep upright… if you do that again… I’ll fall… I…”

“You want to move somewhere else?” you asked and they nodded.

Turning and leading you unsteadily without a word towards a closed door that led off from the study, Avery showed you to their bedroom and then hesitated, as though unsure as to quite what you wanted with them now that you had then naked.

“Bed?” you asked and they nodded, encouraged.

The fact that they seemed to be waiting for you to balk and run stung, but it made you more determined than ever to show them pleasure. Especially since they’d apparently not been with anyone since becoming a lich.

“Tell me what you like best,” you said.

“Your touch,” they blurted immediately.

“Alright,” you said with a tiny laugh. That was a start. “Lie back then.”

They lay down on the dark green blankets of the neatly made bed, their robes pooling behind them like ink, and stared up at you as you followed and sank down beside them.

Watching that swirling magical core for a moment, you reached out and traced their wrist first, working up to their shoulder, and then to that ever-present smile on their bare skull. The light in their eyes now burned a softer blue, occasionally flaring to the intense cobalt you’d seen before when you skimmed a particularly sensitive spot, and their jaw worked as if they were panting and gasping but couldn’t summon the magic to make the sounds.

The storm of essence in their ribcage swirled and crackled, tiny forks of lightning dancing through the clouds where their heart would have been, and you watched their spine flex and arch. The bones of their hands clenched the sheets into balls and as you moved lower and lower down their enchanted body, you watched the phosphorescent light begin to condense again as it hit their bones, running down in thick, slow rivulets to pool in the fabric of their robes, leaving only glittering, darker patches behind.

“Where’s most intense?” you asked, assuming you knew already. The point where the two halves of their pelvis met at the centre proved to be extremely sensitive, and as you ran your finger around it, they lurched wildly, the magic in their chest flaring and sparking again. “There?”

“Yes,” they gasped.

The magic began to grow, solidify, and as you circled the cool bone of their lower pelvis, a long, thick tentacle of magic coiled out of it and wrapped around your hand. It was real and tangible, corporeal, and slick as sin. “Avery,” you moaned as it clenched tightly around your wrist like an octopus’ limb.

“Want you,” they said. In the next moment, the tentacle released you and coiled back on itself, creating a soft passage inside them. Taking advantage of this, you slid two fingers into the channel and crooked them against the solid wall of pulsing magic.

Avery yelled with pleasure, spine arching again like a bow at full draw, magic expanding out through their ribs like a storm cloud, unable to be contained. Pressing hard against their walls, you rubbed intense and tiny circles while the magic flared and reached for your hand in return.

Flowing back and forth like waves of the ocean, Avery’s pleasure enveloped you and you felt it in your own mind as suddenly and as keenly as if it were your own. Their magic was reaching out for you and you allowed the connection without hesitation.

“I’m so close,” Avery whimpered, body taut and thrumming.

“I can feel it,” you whispered.

At that, Avery chanted, “I’m… Oh gods, there, like that… I’m… I’m going to… I can’t hold back any more… I…”

“Come for me, Avery,” you begged, and they broke.

Tendrils of black shadow shot out from their body like vines, filling the corner of the room and staying there like webs, while the core of their magic pulsed and throbbed, blazing with blue light. Liquid magic rolled over your hand as they came and came, body undulating and heaving, jaw open wide in a rictus of pleasure. The sight of it was almost enough to make you come too, but instead you simply stared at the magic you’d brought out and the pleasure you’d wrought in them.

Eventually, the black tendrils evaporated into a fine mist and vanished altogether, and the cloud of roiling magic settled down again and retreated back within Avery’s ribcage. The phosphorescent magic lingered on your skin, however, and as you moved to lie down beside them, you slid your hand down the waistband of your clothes and touched yourself with it still on your skin.

Avery was barely able to turn their head to watch as you brought yourself to another blinding orgasm, but their fingertips brushed against your free wrist just as you neared your second peak and you tumbled over the edge with a grunt and their name on your lips.

In the aftermath, you both lay there for a long time before either of you moved. Swallowing, you turned to look at them and found that the light in their eyes had gone back to green again, though this time it was dark and almost imperceptible. “Avery? You alright?” you asked.

They hummed softly in response. “Tired,” they admitted. “That… That was a lot of magic. I didn’t expect…” they huffed a laugh.

“Did I hurt you?” you asked, horrified.

“No,” they smiled, gripping your fingers in theirs for a moment before they lost the strength and went limp. “Quite the contrary. But I’m spent, in more ways than one.”

“Sorry…?” you ventured and they laughed. “Can I stay?” you added.

“Of course,” they replied. “I’m right in the middle of the bed, aren’t I? Do you have enough room?”

“I could use a little more, but if I lie on my side, I can manage alright.”

“I can’t even lift a finger at the moment,” they admitted. “I’m sorry. If you need me to move, you’ll have to lift me yourself.”

The vulnerability they were offering you struck you deeply. “Alright,” you said. “You sure you don’t mind?”

The tiniest shake of their head was all they could muster.

Sliding your arm beneath their neck and your other behind their knees, you tentatively raised them and nearly gasped at how light they were.

As if sensing your surprise, Avery managed a dry chuckle. “Elf, remember? Bones of a bird…”

You set them back down on the further pillow and nestled in beside them. “Can I put my head on your shoulder?” you asked.

“It won’t be comfortable. Bring a cushion over…” they whispered, nodding at the other side of the room where a modest chaise longue, upholstered in what looked like silk, sat against the wall, adorned with a couple of dainty pillows. The sight made you smile for some reason, and you took the opportunity to clean up a little at a washstand in the corner of the room. When you returned with a cushion, you found that the light was completely extinguished from their skull.

The magic still swirled away inside their chest, and as you laid the pillow down on their shoulder and watched their core shifting lazily - contentedly - you found yourself following them into a blank and blissful sleep.

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

For all early releases, character art and bios, upcoming story info, and much, much more, join me over on Patreon!

You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier!

Currently I’m also running a CYOA for all tiers, with episodes releasing every Friday.

#lich #exophilia #lich x reader #non binary monster #gender neutral reader #reader x monster #monster x reader

710 notes · View notes

obirains-archive · 3 years ago

Text

The Sun and the Moon and the Sea (Part I)

Series Preview

Summary: After a series of failed missions to the refugee moon Veneskar, Captain Andrew Kaaza and Lieutenant Cassian Andor are the Rebellion's last hope. But their mission begins to sour from Day One. It's salvageable, maybe, by the stern but idealistic Point Runner—if and only if Cassian can convince her to set aside her principles.

Pairing: Cassian Andor x Mirian (OFC)

Tags: Slow burn, enemies to lovers, character backstory, worldbuilding, undercover missions, angst and drama

Series warnings: canon-typical violence, angst, major character death, swearing, some sexual (though not graphic) content

Series rating: M

Despite his hunger, Cassian paused to examine the dish: the same dull beige, long-grained rice she’d made at the Yarems’. Mirian’s chair scraped against the sandy ground; he snuck a glance at her; she had begun to eat. Poison wasn’t completely out of the question but at least the odds were low enough for hunger to win out. He shovelled rice into his mouth like he’d never eat again. It was seasoned with nothing but a few grains of salt; despite its general wetness it soon dried out his tongue. A whole minute passed before he remembered his thirst and turned to the mug. It was tea, he thought. Charcoalish leaves he’d never seen before floated on the water like dead insects.

Cassian took the cup in hand, swirling the liquid inside. The leaves sank and floated again and his stomach sank with them. He took a sip. If Cassian were more familiar with tea in general, he might have described it as fragrant, a little bitter, almost floral if not for its acidity. But as it was he could only equate it to licking a power generator. Just those few drops burned holes through his lips and through his skeleton—how the hell was Mirian drinking this?

While Cassian tried to control his puckering face, Mirian put her spoon down, staring at him.

“I’m sorry that this happened today, Skova.”

Cassian froze, chewing slowly, and stared back at her. He’d have to get used to this gaze of hers: wide, gaunt brown eyes swallowing up his, trained on him, rarely blinking. Eyes it might prove difficult to pull the wool over—and her tongue seemed sharp enough to slice through it, anyway. Cassian tried to match their fixedness with little success, so he went back to his food.

“I’m not the one who needs an apology,” he said after swallowing another mouthful of slimy rice.

“Let me amend it, then.” Mirian folded her hands on her desk. They rested dangerously close to his.

“I dislike,” she said after a deep breath, “the circumstances surrounding your arrival and subsequent assignment, for reasons we’ve already discussed. I say ‘dislike’ for two reasons. Firstly, because their uniqueness sets me on edge. Secondly, because they’ve made your life here—for the immediate present, at least—much harder. No one’s supposed to jump into this with no training whatsoever. Especially since, I admit, I’m not actually accustomed to provide you with it. And whatever the root of the peculiarity—” here her eyes flashed, “—you’ve been dealt a cruel hand. And I do say ‘cruel’—it’s cruel that you should witness some of the worst this planet has to offer within your first twelve hours.

“So, no, then,” she sighed, “I won’t apologize to you. But I think it’s beneficial, for honesty’s sake, to acknowledge the unique ways in which today has been cruel to you. And it would be cruel of me, too, to pretend that all is well when I’m seated just a foot away from you. That’s why I’m sorry.”

If Cassian had felt awkward before he was now at a total loss for words. This afternoon, this evening, preoccupied with finding Kaaza, his mind had been made up: this was unjust and Mirian was a participant. But now with some of that laid bare—even admitted—he itched to change the subject.

Better yet, shut up altogether.

“If it’s cruel, it’s common.” He shrugged. “Commonplace. It’s the same everywhere.”

She was staring at him again. “You mean to say—none of today’s events have particularly bothered you?”

“I say it doesn’t matter,” said Cassian decisively. “Doesn’t matter whether I’m bothered or not.”

And her stare was broken. She looked down into her tea. Something deflated inside Cassian’s chest, as if a string that’d pulled taut between them had been snapped.

“I think...” The words were clear but her voice was quiet, pensive. “I think you’re lying, in some way or another. In fact, I hope that’s the case.”

“Life has enough worries already,” Cassian echoed her words from earlier—with some bitterness. Her eyes flickered back up, dark beneath her brows.

“That’s right. It does.”

But something about that didn’t seem quite as genuine as before. Cassian thought she was lying, too.

Chapter One coming Saturday, June 26th, 8 pm CST!

If you'd like to be tagged in story updates, you can let me know here!

(Reminder that if you were on my taglist prior to June 19, 2021 and would like to stay, please fill out my new form linked above)

Tag List:

@princessxkenobi @captainrexstan @the-studious-porg @thespareoom @agent-catfish-kenobi @unlockyourmind-wp @blondekel77

#this has been living in my mind rent free since january so i'm really excited to get it out to you all! hope everyone enjoys <333 #obirainwrites #cassian andor #cassian andor fanfiction #cassian fic #cassian andor x ofc #cassian x oc #cassian x ofc #cassian andor x oc #rogue one fanfiction #rogue one fic #cassian andor x mirian #the sun and the moon and the sea #tsatmats #porgs studies

24 notes · View notes

shortjeb-probs · 3 years ago

Text

Fic Revival

After being dead for nearly five years, my fic Payback is making a comeback!

Important to note: Chapters 1- 68 were written by a 15-16 year old and chapters 69+ are being written by a 21-22 year old. Stylistically, the writing will be different, but I’ve tried to make sure that it’s enjoyable regardless.

Check out chapter 1 below!

Chapter 1: Then

It would have been fitting if the dirt beneath your short fingernails was oozing mud. It would have been fitting if the dust caked in the seams of your clothing dripped off the fabric into puddles. Anything would have suited this moment better than the cherry pink rays that mingled with fantastic gold, last vestiges of the beautiful day that had taken place, showering into a brilliant sunset. Anything dark or dreary or gross would have been better than what was.

It would have matched Sans' expression if it was as disgusting outside as you felt inside. Your teeth chattered lightly, and despite knowing that you should have maintained a calm face as you looked up at the storm that was Sans, you couldn't help it. Your brows were furrowed and your lips were tightly twisted in a vicious scowl, your fists were grabbing at the ground and tearing up clumps, and you were poised to spring at the skeleton.

Your belongings lay littered against the dead grass. At least that was fitting, you thought angrily. And maybe you were, too. You were an angry lightning bolt, threatening to pierce back up to the heavens and charge at the storm that had thrust your anger into you. The front of your shoes dug into the ground slightly, grass parting at your force as your toes fought to find a better hold.

He said nothing. For once, that lazy stupid grin you had stupidly fallen for because you were stupid--! You breathed heavily, calm, you told yourself, stay calm. For once, that stupid smile was wiped clean off of his visage, finally. Your heart twanged as you thought that it had taken much too long, you knew it wasn't true. You loved his smile, you loved him.

You couldn't convince yourself otherwise even if you tried. And oh, were you trying.

Scarlet paint smeared on the sky from invisible brush bristles, and your calves began to burn from the position you still held. You lifted your hands from the defensive hold they had taken by your sides, undoing the fists your fists quickly, not stopping to cringe as warmed earth fell from your fingers. Your teeth flashed briefly as a snarl a dog would be proud of curled onto your lips, and you sucked chilly air through the small gap in between the top and bottom sets of teeth. A shiver worked its way to your spine as the cold froze your teeth, but you bit it back.

He stared at you from his place in the doorway, right hand just itching to slam the door it held. You could see his fingers twitching from the desire to shut you out one final time. You wondered how Papyrus, who was away at Napstablook's, would react to see the two of you this way. You, in your near beastly pose, and Sans who stood with his left eye whipping through green, yellow, and blue rapidly. Had he ever seen such a sight, the one that was currently your, now, ex boyfriend? You sure hadn't.

Sans leaned forward suddenly, daring you to so much as move, and you did. You rose to a standing position, towering over the various bags and boxes easily. An army of stuff that you could use at your disposal, should you feel like getting violent. You did, but you held both your tongue and your fury. Your key chain sat heavily in your left pocket, and you dug them out when you remembered they were there.

Sans did not watch curiously, instead his arm, the left, reaching towards you. He presented his hand, palm skywards, and you continued to shuffle through the variety of keys until you slid your home key out of the loop. You didn't even look at him as you tossed it, hearing it clang against his bones as he caught it, and then against the wall after he threw it. You shoved your keys back in your pocket, fingers lingering for a second too long before you threw your hand back down to your side.

You lowered yourself and began to pile box onto box, a makeshift wall to block him from your sights that doubled as a means of carrying your items. You tested the weight, it was light enough that you could carry it to your car with ease, and so you began to do just that. The height of the boxes stopped so that the top one could rest against your forehead, and you maneuvered the familiar grasses like the expert you were. This was your home, you'd be damned if you didn't know it well.

A slur of curses sullied your mouth, waiting eagerly to pour out. You had denied them for so long, but you figured it wouldn't hurt now. You cursed the skies that would not mirror neither your anger nor your sorrow, you cursed fate for having teased you with a happy eternity only to cut it short, you cursed everything from ocean to ocean, and finally, you cursed Sans. "Fucking skeleton," You exhaled, face growing haggard as you refused to let his name slip from your lips again. Never again. "Stupid fucking skeleton. Dumb shit." You'd like to think you were better than this, but if the weather would not cooperate, your growls would have to make do with creating the thunderous atmosphere he had created.

Balancing the stack on one of your arms, you plucked out your keys again and shuffled through them, jamming the correct one into the slot without missing a beat. You swung the door open, narrowly missing the metal as it scraped by, and your fingers thunked harshly against the button that unlocked all of the doors but the trunk. You sidestepped to the right until you were directly in front of the door to the back seats. You swung that open, too, pressure screeching against the door as it shook from your power. You felt the glower of that damned skeleton on your back.

You began to pile the boxes into the car, cursing again when you saw that not all of your belongings would fit. Like hell you were coming back here again. You shoved them in haphazardly, fitting boxes in where boxes would fit before turning on your heels and marching back to the front yard. You had at least two more trips worth of stuff to grab, it would have been one if someone would help, he wanted to see you out as fast as he could anyway, but that damned lazy skeleton--! False malice that masked a deep hurt shadowed over your gaze, not that you trained it on Sans.

You were shaking now, but not with cold, exhaustion, or anger. Though it didn't show in anything but the slight tremors, the cutting sadness was searing through you like a wicked flame that you so heartily wished to douse. You picked up the latest stack, this one heavier than the first by a great deal, but not enough to cause you to falter in your movements as you guided back to your car. You threw the boxes in once more. It took a few tries, but you finally pushed the car door shut, and it stayed that way when you moved away from it. You pressed the still open driver's side door, fingers fumbling for the button that would unlock the trunk. You still had a few boxes from this last trip that would not fit in the back seats, no matter how hard you tried.

You walked quickly back over, picking the objects left by the side of your car up swiftly and traveled to the back of your car, eyes scanning over it as it went. It was a dusty old van you had snagged from the side of the road for a few hundred dollars, a good deal for a decent car, a few years back. You sneered at the color, an enthralling cobalt that mirrored the magic currently flowing from Sans' eye. You'd wanted to get it repainted, anyway.

You shoved the remaining boxes in the trunk and went back for the last of your belongings. As you padded across the grass, you couldn't help but ask yourself why Sans was still waiting on the front porch, his figure present in your peripherals. It would be easier for the both of you if he would just shut that door, you didn't care if it was closed to you forever. Your heart twinged, alright, maybe you did care.

You forced anger into your heart like air into your lungs, gulping it down in slow steady breaths. It simmered in your stomach, boiling enough to threaten the contents of your dinner, but would go no further than that. The tendrils of what you wanted to be hatred snaked up and around towards your heart, but stopped well before they could reach their destination. You cursed your inability to dislike Sans, too.

You slid the few bags over your shoulders and gathered up the last few boxes, a monumentally lighter load than your last, even lighter than the first, and stood. You made no hesitation to meet eyes with your former lover, willing there to be some flicker of doubt, some hesitation that you pretended to lack. Not even the slightest flicker crossed into his burning eye. With that, you turned away from him, exiting the yard for what would likely be the last time for a long time.

You crossed the distance to your car with ease, your shaking having stopped when you looked into his heated gaze that final time. A chilling breeze brushed against your cheek, stinging your skin harshly. That was fitting, you thought almost merrily. The wind only continued to pick up, swirling around you and tickling your fuzz-covered scalp. You dropped the boxes in and slid the bags beside them, huffing slightly as you reached up, grabbed onto cold metal, and slammed your arms down. You ran cold fingers through what little hair you had, promising yourself a hair cut as soon as you could get one, and began to walk towards the only open door.

Your cracked lips began to leak crimson fluids as your teeth tore at the skin carelessly. The inside of your cheeks had been snagged raw, suffering a similar treatment that your bottom lip was currently facing, and you inhaled deeply. The door shut firmly after you had seated yourself, your seat belt going ignored for now. You would get to it later, the very next stoplight or stop sign, you promised, but for right now, you were getting out of here.

The hood of your car was towards the street, so you didn't need to adjust the rear view mirror or look behind you. You started the ignition, turning the heat on once the car was started, and began to drive. You peeled out of the driveway quick enough to rattle your bones, but not so much so that you appeared desperate in your want to leave. You blinked away a sudden wetness as you swerved onto the streets, the distance between your former home and you increasing with every second. You noticed that Sans still had not backed away from the door, its openness likely inviting the harrowing winds that had previously tugged at your clothes.

The sun dipped further beneath the horizon, wisps of dark blue graying the edges furthest away from its fleeting light. You didn't know where to go now. You hadn't woken up and expected to have all of your stuff packed and placed on your lawn, solely their lawn now, you hadn't been expecting anything like what had happened! Your shoulders slumped as you rounded the corner, the bone brothers' home disappearing from view with a sense of finality. When you came home from work earlier, that was what was waiting for you. Brown boxes and soured moods.

The angry flame that had coursed through your veins, bubbled your stomach, and stopped before reaching your heart died out as you continued driving. You wondered if it would ever return again, likely when you saw Sans next, which at the moment, you hoped would be never. The road jostled your car slightly with every odd bump, and after a few minutes, you arrived to a stoplight. You turned your body quickly, buckling yourself in before dwelling on your current situation.

You wouldn't be able to turn to Papyrus, who had quickly become one of your best friends, aside from maybe Toriel. Sans had surpassed the 'Best Friend' status that so little people had just been able to make it to. He had become the wall you would lean against when you needed it, the clock that would offer as much time as you needed, the source of childish joy and wild laughter, the cause of playfully disappointed groans whenever he would utter those awful jokes, the most comfortable person you had ever been with, the being that presented more light than the sun, of which had drooped beyond the horizon and left an inky blue tone in the sky, for the two and a half years you two had been together. The..

You stopped yourself, wounds already clawing deeper within you. The soft trembles had returned, but they were no longer quiet. You shook violently, now, pitiful sniffles you could not push back any longer pairing alongside those awful shakes. You glared into the road, willing holes to burn through the asphalt. That didn't happen, but the light did turn green, giving you something else to focus on.

You juggled your thoughts, staying focused on the road the whole while, before settling. If you could turn to neither Papyrus, for he was busy and would likely side with his brother anyway regardless of what you could say or do, nor Toriel, who had likely heard of Sans' temper and would favor with the friend she had made long before you ever stepped into her life, you would turn to the next person. You idly wondered if Toriel knew what you did not, the source of Sans' immense rage. You pushed the thought back.

You pulled over near an empty street vendor cart, digging in your right pocket for your phone. Like most of your belongings, it was old and outdated, but again similar to your items, it worked, and it worked well. You dialed the familiar number without a thought, pressing the phone to your ear as the fingers of your left hand tapped on the steering wheel lightly. A few seconds later, and a dull click sounded through your speakers. Your voice, rough with disuse and grief, surprised you with the confidence warped within the sound, "Hey, Mettaton,"

Link to Ch2: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5700913/chapters/13135003#workskin

#dead fic #dead fic revival #sans x reader #reader is trans male #reader is trans #reader has not started hormone therapy #reader insert #undertale x reader #undertale fanfiction #angst #fluff #bara sans #reader identifies as male

48 notes · View notes

tossawary · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 25: “Home Sweet Home” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary.

Anyway, Shang Qinghua makes himself so fucking sincerely annoying that the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators can’t figure out how to politely tell him to fuck off fast enough. Shang Qinghua makes outlandish assumptions about how many thieves there are (at least a dozen, he’s sure, probably twice that) and what methods they might be using (special invisibility talismans, he suspects); Shang Qinghua repeatedly apologizes for being too busy with important things for Cultivator O.B.B. at the last Immortal Alliance Conference, then tries to commiserate with the man about having to get important things done without getting any respect for it; Shang Qinghua also anxiously wonders if they should all go to Zhao Hua Temple Sect to report what happened here, since there’s a troublesome demon and also some sneaky rogue cultivator thieves on the loose out here! He gets turned down immediately, but assures everyone that he’ll at least let Yue Qingyuan know everything that happened here right away!

Liu Qingge pretty much just stands there scowling silently the entire time - he’s no Shen Qingqiu for sheer menacing "I can and I will ruin your entire life" glares, but he’s still pretty intimidating. He does a great job! No notes!

Shang Qinghua nearly pats himself on the back as he and Liu Qingge leave less than an hour after he arrives. “Holy shit, I’m good,” he thinks, a little giddy with the successful extraction. “That’s a skill that good ol’ Liu-Shidi will never have!”

AN: Of course this has a high chance of backfiring. Is Shang Qinghua going to weave webs of lies anyway? Of course.

Love the fact that Shang Qinghua can shamelessly act like a total pushover, while actually manipulating someone so that he gets the results he wanted. Some snobby sect leader walks into a negotiation room, prepared to use SQH as a doormat, and Shang Qinghua is probably internally like, “Bro, me and my jelly spine welcome you to hell.”

He gives them the rundown on what happened, but, to his complete lack of surprise, that doesn’t seem to satisfy interrogators like his little sister-in-law and his fellow transmigrator. They have so many questions! And Shang Qinghua doesn’t have enough answers for them!

No, he doesn’t know what Huan Hua Palace Sect knows or thinks they know. No, he doesn’t know how they knew about that place. No, he doesn’t know whether the monster was just a local opportunist preying on distracted cultivators or something more sinister. No, he’s not experimenting with the creepy special item or discussing it at length here. No, Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber are not allowed to poke at the creepy special item!

Why the fuck would he ever let them do that?!

All Shang Qinghua knows is that Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber should eat their vegetables and then go to bed! Because they all have a long journey back to the sect in the morning! And also that words cannot describe how painfully old he feels as soon as he says this.

AN: I’ve been thinking about a Demon Trio fanfic in which Mobei-Jun finds himself in a similar position with Luo Binghe and Sha Hualing.

Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua are, like, bare minimum twice the age of Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan. Like, yes, neither Mobei-Jun nor Shang Qinghua are old old by the standard of the PIDW world. Yes, MBJ and SQH are stunted as all get out. But the fact that they have bare minimum 2x the life experience as Bingqiu is, in my opinion, funny as hell and severely underused in fanfiction.

Like, imagine Mobei-Jun unintentionally dadding new demon LBH in SVSSS. Mobei-Jun being like, “Don’t eat the meat from this monster. It makes you hallucinate.” Or being like, “These people aren’t politically important enough to be shown this kind of respect. Look down on them properly and go sleep, or no one will ever respect you again in demon politics.”

MBJ looking at SVSSS LBH and SHL like, “Damn, who raised you?”

Because, like, I love to joke about Mobei-Jun being an oblivious fool, but that’s in regards to human culture. Mobei-Jun operating on demonic culture + his level of arrogance in regards to how he’s handling SQH suggests that MBJ can be politically savvy among demons when he wants to be. Also, the mental picture of MBJ being like, “Eat your weird demon vegetables, there’s nothing wrong with them, you picky half-breed brat,” is extremely funny.

I’ll probably turn this into a separate post.

Shang Qinghua does not miss the man’s unconcealed “oh, great, some of my favorite problem people are back, probably with bad news” expression when they arrive. The man is not at all impressed to hear about the drugged-up Shadow Cave Wolf Spiders or the evil, murderous, madness-inducing plant they fought on their mission, but the Qian Cao Peak Lord is reluctantly, partially placated by the jar of three-eyed skeleton tears Shang Qinghua super thoughtfully brought back for his inspection. Mu Qingfang really likes his research projects!

Shang Qinghua lets himself feel kind of good about this gift - he’s the man who gets things and gets things done - and ignores the Weeper’s Eye whispering in his head, “He has resigned himself to the untimely deaths of everyone he knows.”

(Wow. Oh, Shang Qinghua knows that feeling!)

AN: Mu Qingfang doesn’t think that everyone around him is inevitably going to die, he’s just extremely aware of how dangerous the world is and how reckless cultivators can be. Also, for many years, he was fairly certain that Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu were headed for bad ends.

This felt like a good place to insert some optimism back into the sect in general. Luo Fanli has been cured and is willingly going to visit her sister, Liu Qingge has got a hold on his self-destructive tendencies, Mu Qingfang thinks things are getting better, Shen Qingqiu’s health problems have been essentially fixed, Qijiu might actually work their shit out, Shen Yuan shares his real name with Shang Qinghua, and so on and so forth.

It felt like a good contrast with and buildup towards Luo Binghe’s Skinner mistake (not everything is rosy yet, there are still growing problems), the secret basement, and the encounter with Bing-Ge.

Only to flip that around and then bring some surprise Moshang into things!

“I have now been informed that, after learning that you had returned and, at the very least, completing the duties that were intended to have him reflect on his actions, he has disappeared yet again,” Shen Qingqiu continues. “This second disappearance has set some of the other junior disciples into a renewed panic, which has concerned some of the senior disciples, which was, apparently, cause to alert me.”

“Ah,” Shang Qinghua says.

AN: Shen Jiu should not be in charge of a bunch of children, but it is funny to imagine him going through the same “be a less shit person” adoption process as Shang Qinghua. Like, oh, it would be so easy for him to be cruel about this situation, but fuck you if he’s going to be outdone in the recovery and redemption process by Shang Qinghua of all people.

Shang Qinghua: *grows into a kind of decent person*

Shen Jiu: “Fuck you. That’s not allowed.”

Shen Jiu: “...”

Shen Jiu: “Well, if THAT FUCKER of all people can do it...”

Shang Qinghua doesn’t have to look long or far to find his nephew. He finds the young protagonist sitting despondently on the doorstep of his own Leisure House, sniffling into his sleeve. Peerless Cucumber of all people is sitting beside him and keeping him company.

“Focusing on other people’s lives is easier than looking at his own.”

“-think a drowning man first has to save himself… or else he’s only going to bring down the people he’s trying to save,” Peerless Cucumber is saying.

Binghe nods.

AN: Going by, like, the everything of SVSSS, Shen Yuan really is the asshole going, “I’ll die before I look inwards to recognize and deal with my own emotions.” Also, going, “Yes, I’m a hypocrite who won’t take my own advice. And what about it?” What a repressed nerd.

Shang Qinghua clears his throat to get their attention. Both kids (well, teenager and young adult, but still... kids) look up and then stand up quickly. Luo Binghe takes a forgetful step forward, before he wobbles into an appropriate respectful bow instead.

“Shang-Shishu!”

“How dearly this boy is loved!” the Weeper’s Eye declares, in its soft way inside Shang Qinghua’s head. “More than life itself! More than death itself!”

“Ah, never mind all that,” Shang Qinghua says, and steps forward to wrap his nephew in a quick hug instead, keeping the creepy talking eye oriented away from his nephew. “You’re a little too late to talk to me about your mission before your shizun did.”

Binghe, who was just relaxing into the unexpected hug, freezes.

Shang Qinghua knowingly pats the poor young protagonist on the back.

“Oh, shit” is right!

AN: Uncle Shang really is adorable. Still kind of knocks me for a loop writing it, though, given that the SVSSS SQH and LBH relationship is... nothing like this whatsoever. Look upon the field of SQH and LBH content and see that it is relatively barren except for the stubborn motherfuckers with excellent taste in character exploration.

“Ahhh, well, I’ll be there too for this potential family reunion, bro,” Shang Qinghua assures him. “Maybe we can finally get to the bottom of where this ‘Shen Yuan’ name came from.”

Peerless Cucumber makes a strange expression.

“What?”

“...It’s my name.”

“What?” Shang Qinghua repeats.

“It’s my name,” Peerless Cucumber says again, quietly. “It’s my real name.”

“Oh.”

“Huh,” Shang Qinghua thinks, having been operating on the assumption that the System made the name up for its mysterious backstory. Well, that gives new dimensions to Peerless Cucumber’s criticism of the scum villain!

“You can use it,” Peerless Cucumber says, with an air of determined nonchalance. “Everyone else is doing it.”

“Ah, alright. Thanks.”

AN: This is probably the part where I would have made Shang Qinghua reveal his original name in turn... IF HE HAD ONE. It drives me... kind of wild that we get the Airplane Extras and we STILL don’t get 1) Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky’s original name, and 2) MOBEI-JUN’s name.

Which actually makes things a little more interesting here, in my opinion, even though not having those names gets a little frustrating in terms of fanfiction writing. With Mobei-Jun, you get to explore the fucked up possibilities of him not having a name outside of his identity as the future Northern King. With Shang Qinghua, you get to explore him being a squirrelly little fuck who refuses to let anyone into his life.

So, because we don’t have Airplane’s name, we actually get this mildly interesting dynamic in which Shang Qinghua doesn’t even really think to reveal it to Shen Yuan. We don’t see this part, but Shen Yuan is actually a little miffed by this degree of secrecy, which is going to come up later. (Shen Yuan doesn’t like the fact that Shang Qinghua has as much power over him as he does.)

I personally do not hold the headcanon that Airplane’s name was “Shang Qinghua”. It’s a little too on the nose for me. At that point, the only reaction to transmigrating into SQH kind of has to be, “Ah, well, I was asking for that!” Maybe Airplane projected his worst qualities onto Shang Qinghua, but I don’t think he went so far as to give the character his own name.

Airplane’s main identity when he died appears to have been Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky, and we know that he wasn’t particularly close to his divorced parents and any step- or half-siblings. So, the only names that are really relevant post-transmigration are “Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky” and “Shang Qinghua”. By the time that SY gets here, he’s firmly entrenched in those identities, and his original name is completely irrelevant. I could honestly believe that Airplane just doesn’t think it matters anymore.

Shang Qinghua’s nephew, in the way of a true young protagonist or fucking cannon fodder, got the bright fucking idea to slip away to speak with the concubine called Butterfly privately.

“I thought: what if she didn’t want to speak in front of that lecherous old man? What if she wanted to get away from him?” Binghe confesses.

“She was the demon,” Shang Qinghua guesses.

Binghe nods, voice breaking. “It was… I was really, really stupid, Uncle.”

“Well, at least you know that,” Shang Qinghua sighs, and pats his sniffly nephew on the back again.

Oh, he can see why Shen Qingqiu was pissed the fuck off now. Shang Qinghua kind of wants to start yelling! Or maybe just screaming, coherently or otherwise!

Except yelling isn’t going to help much right now.

Shang Qinghua listens as Luo Binghe recounts being captured by the demon and then waking up bound by Immortal Binding Cables - of being so terrified that he could barely breathe with it. His only hope was Ning Yingying and Ming Fan tattling on his disappearance and a senior disciple tracking him down on time. The skinner demon apparently nearly killed Binghe, crooning over his young and beautiful skin, except a flash of warm light intervened and dropped an unstable part of the ceiling in on them before they could hurt the captured protagonist.

“Fu-Shijie and Shizun arrived after that and k-killed it,” Binghe says. “Uncle, it was all stupid luck! Shizun said I should have been dead and that, between my efforts and the demon’s, he had no idea how I wasn't! And he was right! It was so close! If the ceiling hadn’t fallen in like that-! Fu-Shijie suggested the ropes might be faulty and it could have been an unconscious use of spiritual energy, but I didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me!”

It sounds like the System to Shang Qinghua, intervening again at a crucial moment to prevent the premature death of the protagonist. Just thinking about how close his nephew came to dying without him knowing is nearly enough to inspire a cold sweat! Shang Qinghua can’t speak about the System, so all he can really do is keep hugging! Keep holding on for dear life and saying soothing nothings to his crying nephew!

AN: I wanted to include the Skinner mission, but I didn’t want to redo it onscreen because that’s been done in many fanfictions before and I felt that there was really no good reason for Shang Qinghua to be a part of it. The reason I wanted to include it is to show how the plot is off the track of the SVSSS (and PIDW) stories, with the changed LBH and the changed Original SQQ.

LBH wants to be a hero, but he’s not there yet.

“...Don’t put yourself above him… or below him. Tell him what you want and listen to what he wants, and don’t be surprised if things don’t change all at once,” Shang Qinghua advises and, at Yue Qingyuan’s look, quickly raises his hands. “Ahhh, not my business, I know! Not my business! I just… I hope it works out! I hope you two get something better out of this mess! Aha, make the sect meetings a little less awkward and… things.”

“He has never known what better looks like. He will always be Yue Qi, the slave boy. No matter what he does.”

“...Thank you,” Yue Qingyuan says finally, thoughtfully. “I appreciate your… restraint in this matter… in recent months.”

Aha, yikes.

AN: I know that some people wanted more stomping on Yue Qingyuan, but... like... this man is as or nearly as traumatized as Shen Qingqiu. His childhood fucking sucked. He broke his own soul trying to save Shen Jiu and failed. He made some shit decisions where Shen Qingqiu was concerned, but the logic and trauma he’s operating on are pretty obvious. He was trying.

Part of the theme around the Qijiu and Moshang arcs has also been “an eye for an eye”. Like, are you guys really going to keep on not communicating with each other and then fucking up and then taking chunks out of each other? How many misunderstandings and upset over misunderstandings are you going to throw at each other? Where do you put your foot down and say, “I don’t want to live like this forever. We can be better than this. I want better than this.”

Like, it can’t just be hurting each other back and forth (this applies to Qijiu more than Moshang, in which MBJ definitely carries the weight of this fuck-up). It can’t just be privately nursing hurt feelings forever. The options here are “fix it” or “live like this forever”. Fixing it won’t happen immediately, but the other option fucking sucks, so every little step helps.

So Shang Qinghua here is just like, “Bro, I’m tired. My anger has cooled a lot. I just want all our lives to suck less. I hope things work out for you.”

#tossawary svsss #tossawary commentary #pride is not the word

52 notes · View notes

jamestrmtx · 4 years ago

Text

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Six | Dogbass (Part 1 of 2)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Updates might be delayed/advanced occasionally due to the holidays from here on, meaning the usual schedule should go back to normal by mid January!

• • •

"Here ya go."

"Thank you."

The consistent tremble of your hand complicates your ability to so much as open the can he's handed out to you. Regardless, you stay quiet and struggle with each attempt you make in opening it, though he offers to do that for you not long after your third try. You hand it over and take it back after it's open and after you've managed to calm yourself a little more through deep and silent breaths.

"We really shouldn't go today with the state you're in," Sans says, sitting next to you on the bench, although leaving enough space for a third person to sit right between you. Whether he's trying to keep distance due to your condition or the fact that you're still just acquaintances -- or both -- is unknown to you, but you're grateful for it. The space helps with your dizziness and the persistent feeling of having every little thing overwhelm you, from the heat of the sun to the loudness of the park and its crowds. "The tour's mostly walkin' for hours, so it's not the best idea if you're all dizzy and stuff." His irises fall on your drink as soon as you finish drinking it. "Need another one? There's also ice cream and donuts if you're up for it."

"I'm fine." You smile and stand up to go throw the can away. Walking still feels like balancing yourself on an ever-thinning thread, but you have a little more coordination now, sufficient for you not to appear drunk, nor for you to cling onto a complete stranger like you had just a few moments ago when getting down from the bus. It's pathetic to think you had to use the monster for support while going down a few steps, when Frisk managed to travel all over the Underground all on their own and without your guidance. Still, you set those thoughts aside with the reminder that you're still weak and that your health's taken a toll large enough to last for a few more weeks before your full recovery.

You sit back down with Sans and observe the dogs running around the park, some in groups with others of their kind, some playing fetch and tug-of-war with their owners, and some asking for belly rubs from strangers.

"About the envelope…" you say, trailing off mid-sentence.

"What about it?" Sans asks, looking at you again.

Reluctance causes a noticeable delay in what you want to say and an increase in the intensity of your symptoms, these dulled temporarily by the juice's high fructose and vitamin content. "What's… What's the money for, if it's not for fixing my phone?"

"For your health." His face nearly softens up as he says that, though it goes back to its usual, stoic self when he adds, "You must've taken a few days off just to deal with Frisk's situation, and you've hadda use your own sick days, too, so we all pitched in to help you with that."

"We?" You quirk a brow and frown as you think back on the envelope and all the notes you'd read. None of them hinted at the money being from any other person besides him, and it was the only item inside the envelope that didn't have an individual note attached to it. "Wasn't it all from you?"

The flicker of his irises already gives you the answer, surprise revealing itself with how his gaze widens. "Wasn't there a note stuck to it? It's supposed to be from Tori, Paps, and me."

Though knowing it's much more likely they all pitched in with one hundred each rather than it all being from him alone, you have no memory of any other notes, and even less one related to the money. Curiosity strikes, but you try not to jump to conclusions yet. "There wasn't any. Maybe... Maybe it got mixed up with the other notes?"

"The money was in a different envelope though. Did Paps give you just one letter only?"

"Yeah, but it had the notebook, permit, tickets, and all that."

"Then he must've done somethin' with it."

You both stay quiet as you contemplate the situation.

So, long story short, his brother had taken both envelopes and smushed them into one. It makes sense thinking back on how the letter looked like it was about to burst, but the reason for him to do that and the missing note are two whole other anomalies you've left to find any answers for. It's possible the note could've simply fallen off while Papyrus passed all the items into one letter, but why would he even do that in the first place?

Those questions make rounds about your mind, until you remember the conversation you had with him on the train. Sans seems to realize something, too, and you both act in coordination to your epiphanies by looking away from each other in a subtle manner and scooting back to your side of the bench until reaching the edge, leaving even more space between you. The likelihood of his brother attempting to set you up is apparent, but neither of you acknowledge it to each other. If that hadn't been an innocent and honest mistake, then Papyrus really was trying to push his brother into dating by making him appear a lot more well-off and giving than he seemed.

"Uh, I-

"Maybe-"

Whatever forced and awkward conversation you're both about to initiate is interrupted by a large Samoyed, big, fluffy, and full of energy. He throws himself on the bench space left between you and leaves his stomach out in display, likely waiting for attention like all the other dogs running after unsuspecting strangers without any pets of their own. His tail wags faster than lightning, and he barks until you give him what he requests, even more when the monster next to you gives him head scratches to go with your belly rubs. The dog's face is pure bliss throughout, and the tense atmosphere fades the longer you pet him.

When you both stop, the dogs stays in that position for a while, body left limp from all the pets. The tense atmosphere returns in an instant, and even more so when you both attempt to boop his snout. That only results in you brushing your hand with the monster's while the dog left underneath licks at both of them, once more helping end the awkwardness of the situation.

"Should we go back now?" you ask, finally capable of pushing through the tension. The ice breaks further as Sans nods, and you both stand up, leaving the dog at the bench, owner left unknown. It's strange to think you're so close yet so far away from the Underground. If it weren't for the state of your physical health, you would've only needed to walk a few more steps, past the dog park and through the gates.

A high-pitched woof from behind makes you turn around and expect a Chihuahua to come running at you full speed, though it turns out to be the same dog from before. He's back to his energetic state, complete with his tail wagging faster than before and his tongue now stuck out. He follows even as you walk backwards and stares with a tilted head and confused expression when you stop moving. Sans notices you've fallen behind by the time he's a few feet away and turns back around to assess the situation, first with confusion and then with a chuckle.

"Think this one's a stray?" Sans asks. He then approaches the dog and gets down on one knee to pat him on the head, gaining a few satisfied barks from him. His irises focus on the dog's neck when he adds, "There's no collar on him." He looks up at you next. "Maybe we could do somethin' about it next time we come back 'ere?"

"Sure," you reply, smiling. "Looks like he's already interested in us, anyway."

"That, or he just wants more pets." The skeleton stands up and signals for the dog to keep himself firm in place, complementing his actions by talking to him directly. "Stay." He takes a few steps back to test the dog, who responds by taking a few forward, following the monster now. "Stay," he repeats, to no avail. "(Y/N) needs to go back home and rest." Sans points with his irises towards you when he says your name, breaking formalities to communicate with the dog. "Alright?"

As if leaving the job of dog whisperer unnamed in the information he'd given you, Sans's words seem to have an immediate effect on the Samoyed, who gives one sharp bark once and nods. He then turns around and walks off, leaving you be. Even the monster looks caught off guard by the results, though he laughs it off while you smile. Your gaze and his own draw themselves to the dog continuing to make his way back to the park, until he reaches the bench you'd both sat on. "Didn't think that'd work."

He slips his hands in his pockets and resumes the walk with you towards the bus stop, mood thankfully much lighter between you even as you both reach your destination and wait with no other people around besides him nearby. His irises narrow as he looks up at you, focusing on your face. "You allergic to dogs?" he asks, grinning. "Your face's all puffy."

Checking yourself through your phone's camera is more than necessary to know what he means by that, and when you do, you bite down on your lip to keep yourself from bursting out a laugh. "...Y- Yeah," you mutter, words followed by a sheepish smile. "I forgot."

"You forgot you're allergic to dogs?"

"They're too cute for me to worry about that." Your defense is quick and unfaltering as you grin down at him. "And it's only a mild allergy anyway. It's cats I'm more allergic to, but even then I can't help myself when it comes to being around animals -- specially big and fluffy ones!"

"Can't argue with that," he says, chuckling. "You bring a compelling statement." He looks towards the bus when it arrives and continues with, "Wanna stop by a pharmacy before we go?"

"It's alright," you reply, shaking your head. "I think I have some medicine with me."

"In that satchel you're always carryin' around?"

"It's in case anything happens while I'm out with Frisk."

"Even when they're not around?"

"Yes. What if someone else needs it?"

He grins and walks with you to the bus. "You really are a first-time (mom/dad), huh?"

You settle down with him on the seats nearest to the door and place your bag over your lap to prevent occupying another seat. "...What makes you think that?"

"Tori and I go way back. Though we only saw each other in person just recently, we got to know each other long before that, and she told me all about how it was like, both with her biological son and her adoptive kid. She was just like you when she took care of the first fallen human. And even though she'd already had a son before that, she went back to first-time mom mode with the one she adopted, since she didn't really know how humans worked back then."

Though you're curious to know how they knew each other without seeing each other's faces, you imagine something similar to online friendships and pass it off as that for now. It'd be far too much to ask for any details on that, based on how wistful and melancholic his tone alone sounds. "So you're saying I'm worrying too much?" you ask, grounding your curiosity for the moment.

He nods. "But there's no problem with that so long as it ain't taken to extremes."

"Like overprotective and all that?"

"Yeah." He stands up when the bus fills itself to the brim, leaving a few people to stand and one person to sit down where he's just gotten up from. "I'd say you're fine, though."

"Oh, yeah?" you challenge, smile turning to a grin. "And what makes you say that?"

"You've been willing to listen to me so far, and you're still wanting to understand us despite everythin' you know about us already. That's not really somethin' someone overprotective would do."

"Move over," a man says, interrupting your conversation with the monster. He stands right in the middle of Sans and you, and he directs a glare at you only, fueled by exasperation. Compared to the man Sans had given up his seat for, who'd been limping all the way with a bad leg to the hand-bars, he seems fine; tired, but able to stand firm even as the bus keeps moving on. "Being sick in the head's not a valid reason for you to take up a seat all for yourself."

"Excuse me?" you ask, narrowing your gaze at him. "Care to elaborate on that, sir?"

"You're (L/N) aren't you?" he asks back, scoffing. "Gotta be real screwed up to talk with a guy like him when your kid went missing and ended up in that same place he lived in." His anger's unforgiving, and he hardly cares to register how much attention he's drawing to himself and you. "Why couldn't they tell you about it? Ever question yourself that? If monsters are so advanced enough to build a whole damn robot more human than any android I've seen up here, they could've given you a call or somethin' to tell you your kid's alive and well. Ever stopped to think about it? Or do you care that little over your kid's well-being? Stop for a moment and think about why they didn't try to help your kid outta the Underground." He stops only to catch his breath and increase the intensity of his tone and words. "So what if there was a magic spell keeping them trapped? And so what if they couldn't do nothin' about it? I'd be damn happy if they'd at least try to tell me my kid was okay!"

You keep quiet as you contemplate his words. Even Sans seems struck by them, and simply one quick glance exchanged between you lets you know he's waiting for you to give your judgment on the situation. He doesn't intervene, though he keeps himself close enough to help out, most likely in case the situation were to escalate any further.

"I'm trying to listen to their side of the story before I make any accusations."

"And what does that help you with?" His grimace worsens and he takes a few steps closer, almost cornering you between him and your seat. "Are you dense, or do you not notice how they're tryin' to soften you up by being nice? Bet you a guy like him wouldn't give a damn over a limping human if he knew they were the key to getting outta the Underground." He glares at the skeleton when he says that and turns back to you afterwards. "Don't you see how he looks at you? He's-"

The man's argument drowns out with the rest of the bus's noises, now filled with loud murmurs from the crowd and their unrelenting stares, all of them directed at you. You want to say something, but panic overwhelms all other feelings and any possible, rational thoughts. Your breaths turn ragged and scarce, and the world around you begins to spin. All other words you can decipher from your mind are thoughts on how you're failing as a person and as a parent, more specifically -- on how each and every step you take's one huge mistake and a piece of evidence to prove you're not good enough.

If your best isn't good enough, then what's there left to do?

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to it!)

@the-simp-express

#sans x reader #undertale x reader #lgbt #lgbt themes #gender neutral reader #male reader #female reader #mother reader #father reader #parent reader #chubby reader #long fic #romcom #adventure #mystery #platonic relationships #slow burn

64 notes · View notes

tumblebee-the-smol-bean · 4 years ago

Note

For the classification verse what about little V who gets classified one year later than everyone else cause he's the youngest and during that year he tries to be as caregiver like as possible and the others are like "he's either neutral or a caregiver" cause he is like baby whisperer, cares for them. He gets his results back and he's like 0-2 age range regressor and he cries because he wanted to be the emo parent despite knowing deep down he was a regressor

Aight. Here we go. Since you didnt specify a caregiver I decided on Janus because I'm a sucker for Momceit and baby virge. Hope you enjoy!

Virgil gnawed at his fingers from the passenger seat of Janus's car. They were all packed into his minivan to go to Virgil's house so he could receive his classification. Being almost a full year younger than the rest of his friend group he was the last to be classified, but he had been there for the others when they were so he knew what to expect mostly. That didn't help quell the knotting in his stomach though, nor the bouncing of his knee.

A chuckle came from the seat behind him. "Calm down chemically imbalanced romance! It's rather obvious you're going to be a neutral anyways. We can be neutral buddies!" Roman smiled.

"No way!" Remus scoffed "he's definitely a caregiver! I mean he can calm me down. Me! That's some super caregiver powers right there." Virgil smiled fondly. It was true, when the others regressed he did the best he could to take care of them and make them happy. To be as much of a caregiver as he possibly could be. The others had taken to calling him 'the baby whisperer' because he was so good with them. To be honest that was the classification he was hoping for and he had been trying so hard to make it so that it was the one he received, despite the little inkling in the back of his mind.

"Now now." Janus tutted "we dont know what Virgil is going to be, let's not assume."

"Yeah!" Patton piped up "whatever you get we'll be super duper happy for you kiddo!"

"Indeed" logan nodded "although based on behaviors and subconscious tics I would say that-"

"Logan, stop. Hes going to get it in a few minutes anyways." Jan says smoothly. He of course was a caregiver. He often looked after Remus when Logan wasn't available and sometimes Patton as well. He sort of shared babysitting duties with Virgil. They made an odd duo being the oldest and youngest respectively. But they always took good care of the smol beans. Sometimes though...Virgil would find himself wishing Janus would show him the same affection he showed to the others when they were small. Wrap him up in a blanket and cuddle him till he fell asleep. Safe and happy.

He shook his head to clear the thought as they approached his house and all hopped out next to his mailbox. The letter was plain and official looking. No indication of what the contents might contain.

"Well?!" Remus was practically bouncing on his feet and Patton, despite looking excited himself took on his caregiver persona, much diffrent than his regressed persona and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Calm Remus, I bet Virge would like to open it inside on his sofa instead of out here."

Remus nodded and they all shuffled inside. Virgil Janus and Logan sat on the couch and Patton remus and Roman lose on the floor.

Virgil took a deep breath and his heartbeat sped up as he picked up the letter and carefully broke the seal and pulled it out with trembling fingers. His eyes scanned the letter and...he dropped it with a small sniffle. He had wanted so badly to be the emo parent but it didnt look like that was in the card. Most of his friends looked confused and concerned but Janus just nodded to himself as if this was something he had expected and picked up the letter from the floor, not looking at it and tucking it into his pocket.

"I think Virgil needs a bit of space. Logan, take my keys?" The glasses clad one nodded in understanding and took them, ushering the rest out the door after they gave Virgil hugs and told him that even if they didnt know his classification whatever it was they were proud of him.

Then only he and Janus were left.

They sat for a few minutes in silence before Janus broke it. "I apologize for staying but I did not want to leave you alone, although it seemed you needed some space." An explanation for why the others had left. And honestly? Virgil was glad. He didnt think he could do this with everyone else here...and having Janus here was...nice. so he just nodded quietly.

"May I look at your letter?" He asked softly as he pulled it back out of his pocket.

Virgil hesitated...but...regressors often regressed right after receiving their classifications and someone needed to know so he nodded.

Janus carefully unfolded it, read through the contents and nodded. "0-2 is a little on the young end but I think we can manage."

Virgil sniffled again and felt himself start to slip as Janus mentioned his age range. Of course he couldn't have even been a kiddo like Patton at 8 or 9. No he had to be the absolute youngest of the group.

Janus placed a hand on his shoulder. "Its alright to be small Stormcloud."

He shook his head and felt a tear fall. He didnt want to be small...well he did but he also didn't. It was confusing.

"Yes it is." Janus wiped away the tear and paused. "May I cuddle you?" Virgil didnt even have to think about it. He nodded quickly and Janus pulled him close, wrapping his arms around him and carding a hand through his hair.

"Shhhh, shhhh, it's okay baby, everything's okay, just relax."

The soothing tone and grounding touch soon had Virgil slipping into what he could only assume is his small space. He calmed down a bit and nuzzled into Janus with a soft coo.

"There you are little one." Janus smiled. "Its alright, you're safe. Do you know how old you are?"

Virgil only cocked his head in response. He didnt feel like using words right now.

"Ah, currently nonverbal I see." He hummed "perhaps I'll teach you some sign language later, but for now," he hummed again and picks up his backpack. "I have a few goodies for you. I always buy some things for classification reveals just in case." He explained and Virgil stared at it curiously from where he's pressed up against Jan.

"Its not much but should be enough for now. We can get you some more things later."

The first item he pulls out is a stuffed raccoon that makes Virgil gasps

and his eyes go starry. He starts to resch for it but then draws back and looks questioningly at Janus.

He nodded with a small smile. "Its yours love, go ahead."

Virgil gingerly takes it and rubs it against his face, squeaking in delight when he realizes it doubled as a rattle.

Jan wore a soft smile as he retrieved the next items. A dark purple pacifier that he held out to Virgil who immediately accepted it and then a sippy cup and bottle of similar skeleton designs.

"It looks as if this one is more suited to you at least right now." He picks up the bottle and sets the sippy cup aside to put in the cabinet later.

"Last things, are you ready?"

Virgil nodded and clutched his raccoon tight to his chest as he sucked on his new Paci.

He pulled out a pair of soft gothic kiddie pajamas and a black blanket with purple bats on it. Virgil started babbling and reaching out to touch the soft fabrics. Janus chuckled.

"Would you like to wear them?"

He nodded.

"Do you need help?"

He hesitated but slowly nodded again before hiding his face behind his racoon. Janus smiled. "No need to worry little bat. I dont mind."

He quickly helped him into the Pjs and wrapped him into the blanket like a mini taco.

Virgil cuddled up and yawned softly.

"Naptime for the little baby bat I think."

Virgil whined.

"Shhh, you're tired, and I'll be here when you wake up."

"Pwomse?" Its very soft and the first thing hes said since regressing. Janus practically beamed.

"I pinky promise."

And so they locked pinkies and Virgil fell asleep, wrapped tightly in his blanket and cuddling both Janus and his racoon.

#agere #sfwagere #sanders sides #deceit sanders #sanders sides agere #virgil sanders #fanfic #sympathetic deceit #caregiver Janus #cg janus #janus sanders #virgil agere #agere virgil

241 notes · View notes

k-writer1998 · 3 years ago

Text

Who Said Love Was Easy? (6/12)

There are many different kinds of people who come and go from your life. Some will stay constant and sturdy like a river, growing alongside you, others will come like a whirlwind who wreaks havoc and leaves just as quickly, then there is everything in between. In this twisted maze of connections, that is where our story begins. A steadfast boy, a girl with a past, a little bit of alcohol, mistakes, and some love. Where can you go wrong with that?

angsty fluff

w.c: 1.7k

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

The first words I heard from the call were “I’m sorry,” followed by an explanation and an “I got you.” I didn’t trust those words as the only other person he could ask in this situation is the one person I didn’t want involved. I tried to argue but Jaehyung had already sent the boy my way so with a defeated sigh I went to finish getting ready. By the time I finished my makeup I had come to terms with the fact that he sent Jeongin and once the doorbell rang I put on a smile before opening up. Lo and behold there he was, fitted in some black dress pants with a matching blazer with a white tee underneath.

“Hey… Is this okay? I wasn’t sure what to wear,” he started awkwardly.

“Yeah that’s perfect, thanks for coming with me,” I lightly smile.

“Oh before I forget. Here. It’s a birthday gift and an apology for being so harsh yesterday...”

“If you’re talking about Gahyeon, I deserved it but if you mean the rooftop then I accept,” I laughed as I took the box from his hands, “all jokes aside though, you didn’t have to.”

In the adorably wrapped box were a cute little pair of cherry blossom earrings. Seeing how tense he seemed it was the perfect opportunity to pick on him, it’s not my fault he was just so full of openings. Controlling my face to hold my smile, I looked at him and carefully spoke.

“My ears aren’t pierced… ” His face flushed and he stuttered as he tried to take it back but I pulled it away with a giggle, “I’m kidding. Thank you, I love it.”

“They were just something I picked up on the way,” he mumbled, pout still resting on his lips.

“But they’re still a gift that you chose with me in mind and that alone makes me happy.”

Color made its way back to his cheeks and although I did say it for that exact reaction, I genuinely meant it. I turned over to my doorway mirror and eagerly put them on with a content smile, then we were off. That little interaction at the door knocked off a few of the nerves twisting in my stomach but not by much.

“So what’s up with your family?” Jeongin asked, his voice cutting the silence of the cab ride.

God is so cruel to me. I’ve had to watch Jeongin chase after the girl he likes while I have feelings for him and now I’m not even allowed to keep my skeletons in the closet. It’s only fair for me to tell him, since he is about to enter the wolves’ den with me. I guess we can call this an equivalent exchange for all the shit he told me when he was drunk. I leaned back in my seat and looked at him square on, here we go.

“Okay so the abridged version is that I’m my father’s illegitimate child. Due to circumstances my father took me in and his wife despised me while I was treated as a ghost by the rest of the extended family. My dad passed away a few years ago and his wife jumped at the chance to throw me out. Although I loved the thought of getting away from her hellish treatment, I was also forced to cut ties.”

“I- That’s a lot. Okay, so let me get this straight, after all that we’re now going to…”

“My dad’s wife’s house.”

“Why? Didn’t you just say she hates you?”

“Yup, you aren’t the only chaebol here. My family’s company has been having a successor battle, which my half-brother is a part of. My role tonight is to garner favor from my paternal grandmother who’s taken a liking to me.”

“Why are we even going there if they’re just using you? It’s obvious you don’t want to either.”

“I would rather not find out what would happen if I didn’t. You saw how my brother was, let’s just say that wasn’t the worst that could be done… to me or my life,” I pointed at him before adding, “Don’t even ask about this part though, this is something I’m not unpacking anytime soon.”

He raised his hand in surrender before sighing, “Isn’t that a bit much? Is this a drama or something?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” I sigh.

“And I thought my family was bad,” Jeongin mumbled but my ear perked up at this.

“Tell me about them.”

“Huh?”

“Your family, tell me about them… it’s only fair right?” I tried to coax.

I remember Gahyeon talking about his dad’s company and although I asked him about joining it, I wasn’t even sure what that meant. Now that I think about it he’s never spoken about his family from what I’m aware of… Look at that we actually have something in common, albeit family problems but that still uhm… counts?

“I don’t know…”

“I mean you’ve already told me your love issues when we first met, but I won’t force you. How about instead, one sentence with no context.”

“You keep telling me about how we first met but I really can’t remember, can’t you just tell me?”

“I mean I can… but not yet, the ambiance has to be right,” I joked.

“Fine. I’m the estranged son of a CEO from his first marriage.”

“I- Okay maybe I overestimated my curiosity control but a deal is a deal. I won’t ask anything.”

Not like I had a chance to anyways, the taxi driver pulled up to the house and I readied my mind for the uphill battle ahead. False pleasantries were exchanged before dinner was served and everyone started chatting while I silently played with my food. From across the table I felt a menacing aura and dared not look up from my plate. I knew who and what she wanted me to do but it’s hard to put on an act when it’s hard to breathe, unhappy memories resurfacing and unhelpfully flashing through my mind. It wasn’t until I felt a knee bump against my own did I realize that although my brain was going through the past, the present was still moving on. Looking up at the culprit, Jeongin was answering one of grandma’s questions with a smile. I’m not alone this time. I smiled and started to participate in the conversation with grandma and Jeongin when suddenly step-mother cleared her throat and her kids seemed to take the hint.

“So y/n how is the freelance work going for you? You’re taking care of yourself and not over working right?”

“Yes… mother… work’s been steady and I’m caring for myself properly.”

“That’s good, I wish I could say the same for Youngho, he works too hard but it is for his father’s legacy after,” she cooed and cautiously glanced at grandma.

“But y/n you look thinner than the last time I saw you, make sure you eat up,” grandma added but the nerves had long destroyed any appetite I had going into this so I just smiled and nodded.

“Unnie, who is this again? Is there a reason he came? Not that I’m complaining,” Younghee said as she gave a flirty smile to Jeongin who awkwardly looked anywhere but her.

“He’s a friend from college. We had plans and it would’ve been rude to cancel,” I lied.

“Really? He seemed like more when I saw you two the other day.”

“I think anyone would have a similar reaction running into a situation like that,” Jeongin added, his motions pausing and his facade faltering at Youngho’s nonchalant tone.

"Exactly so just drop it, it's none of your business anyways."

“You’re such a secretive one, y/n. Sometimes I wish you were like how you were when we were kids, cutely following me around and doing what I asked.”

“Well Youngho-oppa we all had to grow up and see the reality behind the fairy tales.”

“But everyone should know their place in the story, don't you think? How embarrassing would it be to think you're the damsel when really you're just a side character?" Younghee bit back.

"Everyone is the main character in their own story so why would it be embarrassing?" Jeongin countered.

"What a beautiful sentiment, so encouraging yet naive. When you get older you'll learn that everything is all part of a bigger picture."

I glared at Youngho who was smirking happily. That obnoxious prick, why the hell is he provoking me when he wants my help? Even the golden customer service boy over here is having a hard time keeping up his face. What's he so worked up for, because he isn’t the type to bicker back like this and I'd be stupid to think that it's one hundred percent for my sake. Regardless, I could feel the irritation rolling off my step-mother so it was my turn to calm Jeongin as I tugged at his blazer from under the table.

"Well in the end everyone gets what they deserve because that’s life," I stated.

“You kids have such a roundabout way of talking nowadays this old lady can’t keep up,” grandma laughed and so did everyone else.

“Speaking of life, yours’ seems to be busy right Youngho-oppa?”

I forced a smile and felt a tinge of relief wash over me as he eagerly took the bait to talk about his work at the company. The rest of dinner was Jeongin saving me from even more trouble than I already was, for the earlier banter, as I danced between wanting to blow up and getting lost in the past. They tried to convince grandma to stay later to chat, she was tired and excused herself for the night. As we saw her to the door she pulled me into a hug before whispering into my ear.

“You’ve grown up well and I’m happy you have good people around you.” She pulled away and held something in my hand with both of hers before saying, “Happy Birthday dear.”

As she said that her eyes darted to Jeongin and I was glad my back was toward him. I made a face at grandma who only smiled knowingly at me before my family jumped at the chance to talk highly of themselves to her till the very end. I placed the gift, which was most likely money, into my purse and steeled my nerves for what will come after grandma walks out that door.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #skz #skz imagines #skz au #yang jeongin #jeongin imagines #jeongin au #server! jeongin x regular! y/n #my writing #wslwe?

10 notes · View notes

blaiddydbrokeit · 4 years ago

Text

Family (Garm and Lloyd centric, domestic fluff drabble)

“My son… Look at you…so grown up, and yet so painfully thin...”

Lloyd couldn’t stop himself from a weak chuckle. Of course he would say that. He shrugged like it was no big deal.

Wrong move.

Garmadon gripped his shoulders, letting out a shuddering sigh before his lips tug up into a rather scheming smile. “I’m going to make you your favorite dumplings and fill you up until you’re no longer a skeleton.”

No one had heard such a line spoken so threateningly before. And yet the atmosphere was so light and humorous. The battle was won. They could rest a little now. Garmadon picks up his exhausted son, and the wacky little group heads back indoors. Repairs to the monastery would come later.

Lloyd didn’t remember much of what happened next though. One moment, he had been reveling in his father’s arms, finally alive and good-hearted, and the next he was waking up from murky darkness in his own bed, covered in layers of fleecy blankets.

His heart begins to skip a beat as sweat forms on his skin. Was all of it a dream? Were the Oni even defeated, or ever came to Ninjago to begin with? Is his father- Is he even-

A warm scent breaks him out of his questioning thoughts, and his heart reflexively settles at its familiarity. Noodles in shrimp broth. The wafting fragrance was spreading from the kitchen in the monastery. Lloyd couldn't help but follow the familiar scent all the way to its source, slow on his shaking legs (seriously how long has he been out)?

As he enters the kitchen, Garmadon notices him, and Lloyd froze like a child caught doing something naughty. However he gives off carefree laughs at his reaction. "Hungry, aren't you?"

A deep growl from Lloyd’s stomach was the only response he could give.

Garmadon laughs as he begins to serve up the meal. He sits the blonde boy at the table, and gently places down an enormous bowl, steaming hot and full of delicious looking noodles, topped with a generous pile of dumplings and shrimps. As if Garmadon hadn't already gone over the top with the portions, he slides another plate full of pan-fried potstickers.

Lloyd grimaced at the spread of food before him. Did his father really think he could stomach this much food? He doubted even Cole could.

Garmadon placed his still warm hand on Lloyd's shoulder and asked, in concern: "Lloyd? Why aren't you eating? You need some nourishment."

Lloyd relaxed slightly at the warmth, picking up his cutlery, his hands trembling ever so slightly. He stirs the noodles hesitantly with the chopsticks and begins to eat.

Almost like a trance he'd suddenly been lapsed into, the nostalgic and authentic taste of his father's absolutely divine cooking overwhelmed his senses. Overcome with emotions; Lloyd did not realize he had picked up the bowl, scarfing down the contents as though he hadn't eaten in weeks. When he finally lowers the bowl in a bid for breath, he comes to the realization he had unknowingly emptied the entire bowl.

"Oh…" he groaned, stifling a little burp.

"My, you really are starved. Here, the potstickers should help fill you a little more" Garmadon warmly remarked as he shifted the dishes so that the plate of potstickers were in full view and reach of Lloyd. Lloyd was already so full, and yet somehow, something was compelling him to practically inhale the entire plate worth of potstickers anyway. One bite was all it took to make his decision for him, the irresistable taste urging for more. Slowly but surely, the plate was emptied.

He'd finished all the food prepared for him! Lloyd leaned back in the chair, completely and utterly stuffed. He felt so bloated, his stomach full, warm and heavy with food. Resting a hand on his slightly bloated belly, he sighed in relief and contentment. His father only looks on in mild amusement and surprise. "Goodness, what an appetite! I suppose I'll have to make your next meals just as hearty then!"

Lloyd couldn’t help it. He teared up, a wave of emotion coursing through his soul. “I missed you…” he whispered.

Garmadon reached over, placing a hand gently on his son’s own. “I’m here now…”

The pair had returned to Lloyd's room, the elderly man bundling the youthful blonde back into blankets in bed with a firm insistence on rest. Lloyd, for once, felt sleepy as he drifted off to sleep, warm both inside and out, the last thing he knew before his eyes shut was his father's dry calloused hand gently patting his back.

The next few days felt like an absurd flurry of events. The gate was being repaired, the debris had to be cleared and the lamps replaced. A mural was being plotted upon the yard's walls, a depiction of the legacy of the big found family. And yet, even with so much to be done, Garmadon had somehow found the time to cook up a storm, feasts fit for gods in enourmously generous portions that found its way into Lloyd's stomach. The young boy quickly found himself much hungrier - the anticipation of food made so lovingly by his own father. He ate with vigor and voracity unrivaled, an appetite of inhuman proportions.

Garmadon could not be a prouder father. Lloyd had saved him time and again, and to be able to express his love for the teenager through his cooking that seemed to trigger such eagerness in his son, only steeled his resolve to nurse his dearest only child back to the pink of health. Lloyd was still awfully thin, undeniably, but it was clear to all who passed by that the adolescent was beginning to regain a healthier complexion. He just needed more rest, and a bigger abundance of rich heavy meals - plenty of meat and proteins. The oni and dragon blood in Lloyd would hopefully respond readily to the avalanche of nutrients that was to flood his body.

Three meals a day with everyone else quickly grew to include several extra private meals - just Lloyd and Garmadon, the former packing delicious food away most impressively, and the latter cooking just as impressively and accompanying the conversations. It had been a little over a month since the battle, the mural well under way. But the walls were not the only things that began to flush with vibrance. Lloyd had visibly begun to fill out, thriving under the ample love of Garmadon. The fair-haired young man no longer looked sickly pale, a dusting of rose over his cheeks bringing life and color into his face. It was a most precious sight.

The days of peace since the victory against the Oni still felt foreign and strange to everyone in the monastery - for once, there was no one to be fighting, no plans to be rushing. It was all a time of quiet serenity well-deserved. And it was just exactly what Lloyd needed. Having his needs met - a loving parent, a surplus of delicious meals to nourish him, and a lack of constant stress had certainly helped his rest. What had been nights of tossing and turning within nightmares he had to face alone had become long bouts of untroubled slumber. It wasn't long before everyone was pleasantly surprised - for the first time, Lloyd looked relaxed, laughing cheerfully, carefree and genuine. He was running about with the energy he had seemed to lack more and more over the years, his eyes shining with cheeky excitement and vitality. Almost like the child he never got to be.

The liveliness within the Monastery only seemed to grow with his recovery. More time was spent as a family, whether it was in the kitchen learning to cook with his father and Zane, or standing out in the yard eagerly chattering the night away while Kai manned the grill, serving up helpings of perfectly grilled meat with fiery flair that never failed to make eyes roll at his dramatic ways. The family was whole and together again, it was all they could have asked for.

It was almost in a blink of an eye when the Winter solstice came and went, as a new year drew ever nearer. One who saw Lloyd now would've hardly recognized him. No longer was the green ninja scrawny and sickly - no, he had a flourishing glow of health about him that could light up any room with his cheeriness, his now slightly podgy build showing the bounteous love that he received from his family. Garmadon had never dropped his hobby of cooking, and with the help of the ninja, found his new calling. He opened a restaurant that soon became well known for its homely atmosphere and its heartwarming dishes, a direct competitor to the major chain of Mister Chen Noodle House restaurants throughout Ninjago. Wu too, had found his peace in retirement, spending many a day in the monastery carefully calligraphing the chronicles of Ninjago's history.

After all this time... it seemed that the First Spinjitzu Master had finally given its protectors the happily ever after they deserved. Or has he?

#lloyd ninjago #lego ninjago #ninjago garmadon #ninjago au #ninjago fic #sen writes?

78 notes · View notes

star-birthmark · 4 years ago

Text

Better: Formaggio x Reader x Mista (18+)

To that one anon that asked, “Uwu if you could throw us some more of that juicy formaggio and mista being in love with the same s/o it would be muy greato” It’s finally done, the NSFW part 2 to my Formaggio x Reader x Mista fic . It took me a while, but it is finally done. This is my first not sfw post on this blog, so go easy on me everyone!

CWs: drinking, dirty talk, slight degradation, threesome, slight cucking (lmk If I should add any other tags)

Without further ado: Better (NSFW) (6k words)

You had a strange relationship going within Passione, two men at once. One of them, Mista, a teammate of yours in Bruno’s gang. The other, Formaggio, a supposed “rival” of yours from La Squadra. Though you figured things were going smoothly enough, both men had certain complaints about the arrangement. Formaggio, not content to be your little secret, wanted to claim you for himself and himself alone. Mista, younger than both you and the older mafioso, still felt inadequate against his male companion. One fateful night, the three of you were spending time together, and things soon escalate. Catching you and Formaggio together, Mista embarrassingly asks the older soldato for advice on how to please you... Together, the two of them give you the rough, degrading night that you had long hoped for.

- - -

Formaggio leaned back in his chair, staring up at the night sky. He reached over for the bottle resting on the table nearby, taking a sip of the drink and stared out to his view of Naples. It was his week off, the week Risotto gives all his men, so the assassins can clear their heads from the mafia, and this week happened to be his. He was spending his evening alone sitting on his apartment’s balcony. Trying to forget about work, the young man lounged in a warm red crew neck and sweatpants. It was a perfect night to relax, spend some time unwinding, and mess around with something. Formaggio wiped his mouth after taking a sip and frowned. A perfect night, except that you weren’t there with him. And he missed you, but you were out with Mista that night.

His phone rang from inside the house, and he rushed to pick it up. Prosciutto was on the other end of the line, quick to start speaking, as usual.

“Hey man. I know it’s your week off but the group’s having a poker night. Melone got a little extra from a recent hit and he’s feeling lucky enough to bet it. You in?”

Formaggio shook his head. “Nah… I’m watching the game with (y/n) tonight.”

“Is that Guido guy gonna be there?”

Little Feet’s stand user huffed, not wanting to be reminded of that. “Yeah… he will.”

When Formaggio had initially agreed with Guido Mista that the two of them would “share” you, he didn’t quite realize that agreement’s implications. He hadn’t realized that “sharing” meant you would still be dating Mista, meanwhile he’d be regulated to your secret “side piece”. It was frustrating, especially given the fact that you dated him first, and the fact that he was forced to agree with this arrangement because you’d hate for your precious Capo, Bruno Buccellati, to find out you were in bed with a member of La Squadra. It wasn’t fair. Formaggio had you first, and how he was regulated to the sidelines as your little skeleton in the closet.

The whole situation would be so much easier if he actually hated Mista, then he could just kill him, but he didn’t. Ever since meeting him, the two mafiosos had become incredibly close friends, even going so far as to spend time together without you even being there. They both knew that if it came down to it, they’d be willing to kill each other, but for now, they enjoyed each other’s company. Formaggio wanted to hate Mista so badly, but he couldn’t ignore the smile that came to your face whenever you looked at him while the three of you were hanging out. He supposed he should take it as a compliment, in a sick kind of way. He and Mista were very similar in personality. And since Mista was two years younger than you and Formaggio, the younger soldato often asked the older for advice on how to better survive in the mafia. So perhaps, in that way, Formaggio should feel complimented that you’re so taken by someone so similar to him. But it wasn’t him specifically, though, and that ate him up inside. Formaggio stood up from his chair and got ready to drive over to your place.

He missed you. He missed calling you his. He didn’t like that the only reason he was allowed to sleep with you was that Mista was a chill guy that happened to be cool with it. He was the superior mafioso and he wanted to claim you for himself.

Good thing he’d soon get his chance.

- - - -

The three of you had been planning a night together for a few weeks now. Just a chill night spent together, watching a soccer match, a couple of drinks between you all and nothing intense. Formaggio was finally on his week off from La Squadra, Mista was open for the night and you were just happy to see them both in the same room. You knew perfectly well how odd your situation was, to simultaneously be with two mafia men, one a teammate of yours and the other a supposed “rival”.

But you’ve fallen in love with Mista and fallen back in love with Formaggio, and you were incredibly grateful that the two of them liked each other. The only issue that arose was with the mafia itself. Bruno knew how dangerous La Squadra di Esecuzioni could be, and both you and Mista knew that Bruno shouldn’t find out about your little outings with Formaggio.

Thus, even if the assassin didn’t love the idea, you decided it would be best to continue dating Mista, and Formaggio would be your little secret. Though, you couldn’t help but want it to more than that. The Formaggio you used to date back in the day, paled in comparison to the man that you spent time with now. He was stronger, more confident and assertive, and well… hotter. You could tell how much he hated being your side piece while Mista was your main, but you didn’t want to lose either’s company.

You heard a car horn blast near your building and looked out the window at the sound, seeing Formaggio’s car parked near your front door. Rushing out, you entered the car. Formaggio gave you an up and down and smirked.

“You’re looking good, baby.” You turned over to him with a smile.

“You think so?”

Formaggio grinned, placing a hand on your upper leg and giving you a teasing squeeze there.

“I know so, babe.”

You gave him your own flirtatious giggle. You knew it was odd to have two “boy toys” as Mista called it, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Are you excited about tonight?” You asked your driving companion, and his hand went further up your leg.

“Yeah… should be fun. Napoli’s playing Roma. Should be an exciting game.”

“Too bad Mista’s rooting for Napoli though… only the smart ones root for Roma.”

“Well you and I grew up together in Roma, dolcezza, don’t forget.”

Formaggio grinned, giving your inner thigh a teasing pinch, before he suavely took your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it romantically. You rolled your eyes at him, slapping him on the arm.

“Nothing funny tonight alright? I just want it to be chill, the three of us.”

You watched as Formaggio’s mood visually soured as he nodded and made a sharp turn onto a new street.

“Yeah yeah, the three of us… Why? Did Mista say he wanted that?”

You look at him confused. “No… I want that.”

Formaggio gave you a quick glance and you soon realized what he meant. You shook your head, giving him an annoyed huff. Why did he have to act like such a baby?

“Oh dio mio, are you still on about this whole thing?”

Formaggio gripped on tighter to the steering wheel. “Yeah… I am. I had you first.”

You gritted your teeth, angry with him. “Oh, you had me first huh? So? Mista was around when you weren’t. Moron, I’m not some object. I’m a human being you know?”

However, your face softened away its annoyance when you saw how genuinely upset Formaggio was, even if he wasn’t showing it outright. You knew he didn’t like being hidden away like this. You sighed, a sad smile on your face.

“Oh… Formi… caro, cuore mio…”

Formaggio gave you a stabbing glance. “Stop it with the pet names (y/n).”

You saw right through that toughness. “You know you still have a special place in my heart amore… No one can change that. This whole thing is just to save face alright? I joined Passione to find you, and Mista was there for me… I thought you were dead. But I still love you too. I love you both…”

Formaggio gulped. “Why can’t you transfer to La Squadra? Your stand would be better used there anyway.”

“Formaggio, you know that’s not how that works. And besides, Mista won’t give me up that easily.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a playful smile on your face. Formaggio shook his head, a low chuckle taking over him. He couldn’t stay mad at you, his own emotional Achilles heel. You were just too important to him.

“If I were Mista, I wouldn’t give you up either. I’m not giving up on this though.”

Finally, the car pulled up in front of Mista’s place, the chosen location for the three of you for that night. You often rotated the three apartments for your hangouts, and this night fell on Mista to host. You and Formaggio stopped right before Mista’s front door, the assassin hesitating to knock. Your hands were full from holding things for the night, so you couldn’t knock either. Formaggio looked over his shoulder back at you and you shrugged.

“Formi, knock already will you? My hands are starting to hur-”

Formaggio cut you off by turning to you and planting a deep, passionate kiss on you. You let out a surprised whimper as the young man took your face in his hands. You had expected a normal, quick, loving kiss from him, just a show of affection before keeping it more platonic for the evening. But this was far from sweet and loving, it was needier, more desperate. Formaggio moved his hand down to the small of your back and pulled you flush against him. It was almost as if he only wanted you to think of him for that moment. He finally broke the kiss briefly, letting you breathe. You looked up at him, eyes hazy.

“Umm… uh... Dante I-”

Formaggio cut you off again with another kiss, smirking to himself. You only addressed him by his real name when you were super infatuated by his actions. When it felt like you two were back in Rome together, just normal people. He must be doing a real number on you with this kiss. But before you could drop your things and kiss back more forcefully, Formaggio let you go and quickly knocked on Mista’s door, leaving you bright red in the face as you straighten yourself out.

Mista opened the door, incredibly excited to see you two. You’d been gone on a mission for the past week and he hadn’t gotten a chance to spend time with you, and he was antsy about it. Being younger than both you and Formaggio, he felt that he needed to prove himself to you both, given that he was a sort of addition to your already existing relationship, but you kept assuring him that you valued him just as much as anyone else.

Formaggio was the first to walk in, giving Mista a small hug before collapsing onto the couch in front of the TV. The pregame programming was starting and Mista and him were already wearing their jerseys. Mista took your supplies from you, putting them in the fridge before returning to your side, taking your coat from you, and hanging it up. You could tell what was going on, from his jittery movements and him nervously wiping his clammy hands off on his jeans. When he finally went to speak to you, you instead pulled him in, giving the younger member of Bruno’s team a quick peck on the lips.

“Calm down alright?” You said to him sweetly, and he nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been a while since anything’s happened between us.”

“I’ve been busy… why? Did you think anything’s going to happen tonight?”

Mista blinked at your overly direct flirt, suddenly getting even more excited. “Do... d-do you want something to happen?”

“Hmm… nope. No funny stuff tonight. I already told Formaggio.”

Mista thought for a moment, relieved. “Thanks… You know I get self-conscious when he’s around with us...”

“And you shouldn’t be. You’re perfectly capable on your own.”

“Yeah but… he’s better than me at um… you know. You know he’s better.”

“Well you’ll get better. I-”

“Can you two stop talking in the doorway and come sit? I can hear you…”

“Yeah, we’re coming Formi! One sec!”

Mista turned away from you at the sound of the other man’s voice while you shouted to him. Mista was always more nervous whenever he was around both you and Formaggio. He felt he had at least some form of superiority over you, given that he’d been part of Bruno’s gang longer, even if you were older than him. But he always felt inferior to Formaggio in one way or another. Mista had had a few nights alone with you, but when he asked you straightforwardly if he was as good at pleasing you as Formaggio was, you couldn’t help but say that Formaggio was still better, not wanting to lie to your teammate. Such honesty definitely bruised his ego, but Mista was still going to try to hold his ground in this odd relationship. He owed that to himself.

“Alright… let’s go other there.” You instructed Mista before giving him a longer kiss. You chuckled as the other’s face became bright red.

“I uh… umm... I… okay, (y/n).”

“Aww… you’re so cute, caro.” You teasingly ruffled Mista’s hair and he followed you to the couch happily.

The three of you sat together on the couch, getting ready for the game to start. Mista was quick to open three beers, one for each of you, and the drinks were soon knocked back. You rested your head on Mista’s shoulder to make him feel less nervous, running your hand up and down the other’s chest. Formaggio felt a bit annoyed at the display but decided not to do anything about it.

The soccer match soon began, the three of you too preoccupied with the excitement of the game to notice just how many of the beers you had already emptied. All three of you were starting to get rather buzzed by the time the second half of the game was coming to a close. Roma was beating Napoli three goals to two, and Formaggio was having the time of his life drunkenly making fun of Mista for his soccer team preferences. You were enjoying your time with them both, going from resting your head on Mista’s shoulder, to laying against Formaggio’s chest, to having Mista’s head resting in your lap, to snuggling back into Formaggio’s arms.

By the end of the game, you had already lost your inhibitions enough to be sitting in Formaggio’s lap, giggling to yourself while playing with Mista’s hair as he sat nearby. Formaggio kept his hands on your hips while still watching the last remaining minutes of the game, though whenever your attention would stray from him, he would grip onto your hips tightly, leading you to gasp just a bit. Mista felt emboldened enough by his drunken state to kiss you while you were still in the other’s lap, and you were more than willing to indulge him, both of you lightheaded as you kissed him back roughly. Formaggio looked up at the two of you, his face flushed red. The act of seeing you make out with someone else, especially Mista, was strangely hotter than he’d like to admit, though that could have very well been the alcohol talking.

None of you were watching the game anymore. None of you were thinking normally, you were all getting far too comfortable with each other, and the night was still young. It was a recipe for disaster.

When the game finally ended, Roma beating Napoli, you and Formaggio celebrated, meanwhile Mista went off to his room to change out of his jersey, wanting to forget the game ever existed. Formaggio watched Mista walk down the hallway out of sight, before turning to you. You turned around to make eye contact with him, still in his lap, both of you lightheaded from cheering and drinking.

Ceasing this opportunity for alone time, Formaggio eyed you up and down, enjoying what he was seeing. “Hey there bambina… Come here.”

With that, the mafioso leaned into you and began placing slow but meaningful kisses all over your neck and jaw, his hands still gripping onto your hips tightly. You looked down at him, knowing he should stop, but also not really wanting him to. You bit your lip, looking around the living room for any signs that Mista had come back from his room. There were none.

“Wait what if Mista comes back?”

“Let him. Who cares? He’s probably thinking the same thing I am.”

Your attention was soon commanded by a telephone ringing, the sound coming from Mista’s room. You heard the other male go to pick it up, greeting Bruno who was at the other end. It seemed that Mista would be gone for a bit.

You let out a small hum as Formaggio’s hands moved up and down your back. Looking down at him, Formaggio glanced back up at you, his green eyes squinting in his own unique form of mischief, even if his lips didn’t leave from your neck until he was sure he had just left a deep, blood-red mark there. Formaggio gently ran his thumb over the hickey, a toothy grin coming over his face.

“I wonder where else I can put one of these...”

Your face flushed red at such a comment, assisted by all the alcohol in your system. You felt your desire for him begin to grow larger in the pit of your stomach. You promised both him and Mista that there wouldn’t be anything that night, but you were quickly throwing that promise out the window. Turning around so your chest faced his, you leaned down and took matters into your own hands by kissing the assassin before he could tease you about your broken vow for the night. Formaggio chuckled against you, kissing you back with fervor while his hands went back down to your hips to gently work your body back and forth over his lap. You let out a small whimper into his ear and Formaggio couldn’t help but groan at the erotic sound. He turned to you, no longer smiling. Instead, a look of quiet awe swept over him, the same way it did every time you two slept together. Like he couldn’t believe you were real. That you were his. At least partially.

“Are you okay with this?”

He asked, his hands still gripping onto you. You answered him by kissing his neck the same way he did to you and at the same time, moving your hips over him without him needing to guide you. Your lips left him for a second and you muttered a shy, “yes.”

The sound of your voice, combined with you moving over the growing tent in his pants got Formaggio going faster than he’d realized, muttering huskily to himself, “Now that’s the spirit…”

Knowing you wanted it, his hands began to roam, one moving underneath your shirt to feel you up through your bra, and the other moving to roughly pinch your ass. You flinched forward with a high pitched squeal, subconsciously jolting your hips forward with one harsh movement over his pants, and causing you to moan, and for Formaggio to let out a growl deep in his throat.

He looked up at you, his lip swollen from your kissing and from biting on it.

He smiled. “You wanna do that again tesoro?” You remained silent for a moment before shyly nodding.

His hand went to your ass again, this time giving it a teasing smack, causing you to jolt forward again, much to the pleasure of both of you. Seeing that your partner was encouraging you, you kept your hips moving at the same rough pace, meanwhile, your lips returned to his, both of you getting lost in each other. You couldn’t stay mad at him, no matter how much he provoked you. Your bodily desires began to dominate your thoughts and before long, both of your shirts and your bra had been thrown to the other end of the couch and you were still grinding on him. Formaggio regained his focus when the two of you broke your kiss, eyes blown out in pleasure.

You leaned back to give him a full view of your chest, prompting the man to gasp out a desperate, “Oh my god…”

Enjoying his view, Formaggio took it one step further, now latching his hot mouth onto one of your nipples, sucking and biting at the tender bud. Your mouth hung open as soft moans poured out, your hands gently running through the other’s red hair.

The two of you were becoming impatient. With one last peck on the lips, you got off of your lover’s lap and both of you hurriedly slipped off your respective pants.

Formaggio chuckled, bringing his experienced hands up to your hips to pull you back to him. “Who gave you the right to be this sexy?”

You giggled a bit at his flirting. “I’d ask you the same.”

“Are you ready? I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“Why don’t you find out?”

You chuckled as you climbed back into his lap, resting your knees at either side of his legs to raise yourself so his face was at eye level with your chest. Getting the hint, Formaggio snaked his hand down in between your legs and placed a confident hand over your clothed pussy. You let out a small gasp, and your knees almost gave out from how sensitive you had become. Formaggio ran his thumb over your covered clit, and you gripped onto the back of the couch in order to not fall forward. Your own hand came down to stroke along your partner’s cock through his boxers, squeezing a bit just where you’d remembered he was most sensitive.

Formaggio let out a loud groan at that and bit his lip to silence himself. “You alright babe?” He asked softly, placing more pressure on the swollen bud.

You smiled. “I should be asking you.”

“Are you alright though?” He asked again, rubbing your clit a little harder.

You nodded after letting out a moan. “Y-yeah… just really wet…”

Formaggio tugged the last remaining cloth off of you, your sensitive heat now exposed to the cold air. Formaggio marveled at how wet you were, bringing a hand up to rub little circles around your clit once more.

“Yeah… you’re ready.”

It wasn’t long until you both gave in. With a quick motion, Formaggio tugged off his boxers, releasing his hardened cock. Leaning in to give him a deep kiss, your hands came down and gave the length a few tentative strokes before you leaned forward, lining up his head with your entrance. Formaggio groaned feeling your wet warmth seep over him, taking his cock in hand and rubbing its tip with your sensitive slit. You shook desperately at the teasing, your hands coming to Formaggio’s shoulders and gripping tightly. Taking the hint to finally give in, Formaggio aligns himself with your hole. You let out a loud gasp as he sunk your hips down to meet with his until he was finally bottomed out inside of you. You hissed at the brief feeling of discomfort before your hips began to instinctively move up and down to provide sweet friction between you two. You rested your head on Formaggio’s shoulder as your hips worked his cock up and down, your walls squeezing at the head for extra intensity.

“Mmm… yeah… keep going just like that dear. Oh fuck you’re so tight. You’re so good for me baby.”

Formaggio kept his hands tightly gripping onto your hips as he helped you moved along his shaft, the young man getting more and more turned on by the lustful moans leaving you for him to hear.

You could stay there forever, being this close to him, in complete bliss. It felt so good. So right. But your drunken mind had forgotten one important thing. Or well… person.

Without either of you noticing, the door to Mista’s bedroom opened, the younger man walking out, starting to talk to you.

“Hey (y/n), sorry I was in my room for so long. Fugo had called to talk about a mission next week and it took a long time cause I’m drunk and I can’t really think straight you… know…”

Mista looked up to see you and Formaggio together on his couch, the other man’s back facing him, both of you lost in pleasure and enjoying each other’s company. Hearing the sounds escaping your lips, Mista got the idea of what the two of you were doing, but he didn’t have any idea what he should do about it. He didn’t have to think long however when you glanced up and saw him in standing there, watching you and Formaggio fuck. You stiffened, stopping your hips movements and covering up your chest with your arms.

Formaggio charmingly asked, “what’s wrong sweetie? Was is feeling too good-wait what?” He snickered before turning around to where you were looking to see Mista as well, muttering an understanding “oh.”

Quickly sobering up, you tried to leave Formaggio’s lap, only to find his strong grip was holding you down onto his cock. You looked over at Mista, unable to meet his gaze, embarrassed that you were still moaning slightly at the pleasurable contact.

“Mista I’m so sorry I um… I know I promised you I wouldn’t do anything with Formi tonight but um… I’m sorry. And I’ll make it up to you I-”

“Can I join you?”

Both you and Formaggio were understandably surprised at such words, both turning to the younger stand user curiously. The thought caused you to grow in arousal even further. “Join us?” You asked.

He walked over to you two, still joined together, and sat nearby on the couch. You glanced down to see that the other man had already become hard in mere moments. Mista glanced up at you, his hand slowly going to stroke his own length through the fabric of his pants.

“Yeah… I figure I could get better at fucking you if I learn from him, (y/n). Plus… it’s kinda hot.”

Reaching over, Mista placed a tentative hand on one of your bare tits, the other hand more roughly stroking himself. You watched as Mista’s face grew bright red in embarrassment and desperation. You got the sense that he’s had the idea of joining you and Formaggio for a while now. Speaking of which, Formaggio soon took you out of your drunken thoughts by cackling loudly at what Mista was proposing. All three of you lacked common sense after a night of drinks, and it had already begun to show.

“So you think I’m better than you huh? Alright, fine.”

Formaggio looked Mista up and down, the assassin’s confidence boring a hole into the young man’s embarrassment. Mista sighed, slowly nodding.

“Yeah. I do.” He muttered shyly.

You sighed. “Or… you two could share me.”

The two men looked at each other, a smile on each of their faces. A smile came to you, leaning down to grasp Mista’s face in one hand, meeting your lips with his. The other hand brought Formaggio’s mouth to your tits. He soon figured what you wanted and resumed his ministrations there, biting and sucking at your sensitive skin.

Mista hungrily leaned into your touch, bringing the kiss deeper as his tongue intertwined with yours. The noises leaving him signaled that he was already hard enough to take you, but Formaggio was having none of that.

He placed a strong hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Sit down Mista. I’ll teach you a few pointers, but I’m going first.” He growled before grabbing your chin in one hand to pry you two apart, taking your lips for his own. Mista sat back and watched the two lovers return to their previous passions before he so rudely interrupted them. Too desperate to remain in his clothes, Mista stripped down and sat next to you on the couch, his hand going down his body to start stroking his already sensitive cock.

It didn’t take much to get Guido Mista going. The fact that he wasn’t the most experienced sexually didn’t help his case either. Just one sight of you getting fucked by someone obviously more adept than him, had his cock twitching and beginning to leak precum.

Formaggio, amidst his rough pounding of your body, eyed the other’s member, seeing how turned on he was. It gave him quite the ego boost to have the younger soldato realize that you belonged to him, the man fucking you in that moment instead of the boy pathetically watching.

Mista wanted to learn from him on how to please you.

Formaggio’s hips sped up further, the pressure in his lower half building ever closer to his release. He watched your face twist in euphoria, until an idea came to him. His hand came behind you, and in a swift motion, he slapped down hard on your ass in a loud spanking. You moaned loudly at the slap before Formaggio took your cheeks in his hand again and turned you to face Mista, who was still jacking off at the sight of you two.

“Go on dolcezza, tell Guido how good it feels for me to fuck you.”

Mista groaned at such words. He didn’t know why getting cucked like this by Formaggio did so much to him. All three of you were into it, but no one knew why.

Formaggio spanked you again, harder this time. “Go on sweetie, tell him. Tell him how much you also like it when I spank you.”

You whimpered as Formaggio lifted you up higher to bounce you up and down his shaft. “Oh god. It feels so good, he fills me so well ugh…”

Formaggio spanked you again. “Is he better than me?”

You bit down hard on your lip, too embarrassed to say. One last strike on your ass caused you to blurt out, “no… you’re better Formi!”

Mista hissed after hearing you say that, reaching his first climax, his cum running down his hand, yet his member remained hard all the same. You grabbed his hand away from his length, leaving him trembling. Making eye contact with him, you brought his hand to your mouth, sucking and licking the cum off his fingers, an act that had both men groaning in needy desire for you. Formaggio bit onto his lip hard. His cock was reaching its peak. Hurriedly, he let go of his tight grip on your hips.

“Get off (y/n). I wanna cum in your mouth.”

You quickly get off of his lap, kneeling in front of him on the floor. You were about to suck him off before he spoke again.

“Aww come on dear. Don’t you think you should help Mista too? Don’t be selfish, baby, he should find out how much you love being taken from behind…”

He grinned and Mista let out a moan, his hand already working up to his second orgasm. You smiled, sharing a knowing look with the assassin before you climbed onto the couch on all fours and began to blow him. Mista brought his hand up to your dripping heat, and ran a nervous finger over your aching clit, causing you to moan around the other man’s cock. You focused on your attention on the blow job, bobbing your head up and down the long shaft. Mista hesitated to move forward into you, wondering if he should ask for what to do.

Formaggio rolled his eyes at the other’s nerves. “Just take her already, man. She’s a big girl, she can take it.”

He teased, prompting Mista to get on his knees, lining his rod with your gaping hole. You were feeling too empty after Formaggio had pulled out, a problem Mista was about to fix.

In one quick motion, Mista plunged into you and you gasped, stopping your blow job for a moment. Mista wasn’t as long as Formaggio, but oh god was he thicker. It felt so good to have him inside you. He started off with slow, shallow thrusts, nervous that he might hurt you or that you didn’t like what he was doing. Of course, he was wrong. One harder thrust already had you losing your mind on his cock.

“Oh god… Mista.”

You whimpered before Formaggio grabbed a fistful of your hair and brought you down on his cock, its tip reaching the back of your throat.

“Pay attention to me baby, keep blowing me. I’ll teach Mista how to fuck you right.”

Humming in pleasure as you continued using your mouth on him, Formaggio leaned back, his body slick with sweat from your efforts. Both men were lost in pleasure over how incredible you made them feel. Still, the two of them were nothing if not troublemakers.

“Hey Mista, enough of this pathetic ‘love-making’ shit. You gotta do better than that. Hasn’t (y/n) told you how much she likes it rough?”

He grinned, keeping your head down as he rammed his length in and out of your mouth, gagging you slightly. It wasn’t long until, with one final thrust, the assassin reached his limit and came down your throat. You choked a bit, but managed to swallow it all down. Formaggio let go of your hair, brushing it out of your pretty, blushing face. He didn’t realize how much he’d fallen back in love with you. You were so good for him.

Formaggio smiled, still panting. “Oh god… I love you baby. Come here.”

He pulled you forward, giving you a brief kiss before you broke the contact with a moan at one of Mista’s particularly hard movements. Mista, having seen how rough the other man was handling you, threw his hesitation out the window and began to pound you even faster. Formaggio reveled in your elated expression at the quickened pace and decided to kick it up a notch.

“Hey Mista, has (y/n) ever told you how much she loved having her hair pulled?”

Formaggio joked breathlessly, still recovering slightly from his huge orgasm. Mista looked down at your moaning form as you bounced desperately on his cock, an overconfidence smirk coming to him at his new found arrogance.

“No ‘Formi’, I don’t think she has!”

He teased back, grabbing your hair in one hand and pulling it back to fuck you even harder than before. Your head came back and Mista leaned forward to make eye contact with you as he ground his hips against yours. Both of you felt your orgasms approaching.

Formaggio a little embarrassed at Mista using his pet name, nonetheless, turned to you in confidence. “Does it feel good baby? Do you like his dick?”

“Y-yeah… it feels so good.” You managed to moan out.

“Are you gonna cum from him fucking you, baby?”

“Y-yeah…”

Formaggio reached down, a practiced finger moving to rub directly on your clit. The action brought you over the edge, and soon you let out a loud gasp as your climax washed over you, causing your whole form to tremble in jubilation. Feeling your walls clench down on his length, Mista reached his end soon after, pulling out and cumming all over your back.

Formaggio set you down gently on the couch while Mista came to his senses, the three of you all panting in the thick, musky air of the apartment. You were the first to speak.

“Oh my god… that was incredible you two.”

You giggled. You tried standing up to get dressed, your legs failing you after your intense climax. Formaggio caught your fall, and you shyly thanked him.

“Umm… we should do that again sometime…”

The prospect caused the two light headed men to look at each other in shock. “Really? You wanna?!”

You grinned mischievously and each of them remembered why they fell in love with you. You were just as nuts as they were.

“Yeah, are you kidding? A girl can’t just pass up another night with her two boyfriends.”

Formaggio raised an eyebrow at the last part. “Two boyfriends huh? I thought I was just the side piece.”

You chuckled, finally finding enough strength to stand up over them.

“I’ll keep you around for more caro. I love you too much not to. Both of you. Now... I feel gross. Which one of you boys wants to join me in the shower?”

Both Mista and Formaggio looked at you in shock at your crude words, watching you head down the hall. Mista turned to Formaggio.

“How’d we get so lucky?”

“You mean how’d I get so lucky? I had her first…”

Mista rolled his eyes. “Alright stronzo, how’d you get so lucky?”

Formaggio thought for a moment, realizing how incredible you really were. “I don’t even know…”

With that, the two of them shared a grin and rushed down the hall as well to head to where you were. The fun was only beginning for that night.

#jjba #not sfw #jjba writing #formaggio #guido mista #part 5 #Vento Aureo #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #la squadra #bruno's gang #long fic #fem reader #cw drinking #cw dirty talk #cw degradation #cw cucking

116 notes · View notes

aurorawest · 4 years ago

Note

⭐️ ooooh! can you please give a "director's commentary" on chapter 2 from "Foundations" where Loki and Thor are in a pub and get confronted by these two awful guys??

Yeah! Gosh it feels like a long time ago that I wrote Foundations!

Some general commentary about this fic - one of my struggles with writing Loki was how to get into his head and make sense of the fact that in Thor 1, we have that deleted scene where he tells Thor that he loves him, and to never doubt it. Obviously that scene was cut, but Loki’s entire arc really does bear out that he loves Thor, so I really needed to find a way to reconcile, “Never doubt that I love you,” with Loki’s douchebaggery in Thor 1. So that really was the impetus for this fic - what are some things that have happened between them that could lead to Loki’s love for Thor never wavering, but would also convince him that keeping Thor from the throne was a good thing, so good that he should resort to fairly extreme measures to achieve it? I wrote this fic a bit out of order—chapter 3 came first, then 1, 2, and I wrote 4 and 5 more or less simultaneously.

The men watching him didn’t seem like a concern anymore, either. They were the princes of Asgard. Who would dare attack them?

“Drinking by yourselves, princelings?” a voice said from above them suddenly.

So in chapter 2, I wanted to show Thor’s hot-headedness, and I wanted it to involve Loki, because I wanted to show a conflict between Loki loving Thor for looking out for him...but also hating Thor for looking out for him.

Spoken too soon. Loki’s head snapped around much faster than Thor’s did. It was the two men who had been watching him. Surprise.

With a smile that he hoped was charming, rather than sloppy, Loki said, “Well, I wouldn’t say we’re alone.” Wait, was that supposed to be clever? The drink was getting to him. The drink had gotten to him.

Thor scooted his chair over and slung an arm around Loki’s shoulders. “Only because we haven’t found company yet!” he thundered. Loki tried to slither out from under his arm but Thor’s fingers clamped around his shoulder, so he resigned himself to his brother’s drunken clutches. “Join us, friends. And well met on this beautiful evening!”

I tried to mimic the dialogue patterns of Thor 1 and TDW for this fic much more than I typically do. Since most of my fic takes place post-Ragnarok, and I really love the tone of Ragnarok, I draw a lot of my style and tone from that. But I wanted to give this fic a feeling of being set in the past, long before Loki and Thor encounter 21st century humans.

[...] The men looked at each other and Loki felt another twist of uneasiness. One of them, his hair a fiery ginger that Loki couldn’t help letting his eyes linger on,

This is a very subtle (like so subtle that I’m sure literally everyone missed it) reference to Theo Bell in the novel Loki: Where Mischief Lies, who’s a redhead. I have a head canon that Loki has a thing for redheads.

elbowed the other, who was brawnier and uglier, with a nose that looked like it had been flattened by someone else’s fists on more than one occasion.

Could I have just said his nose had been broken? Probably. I still kind of like the way I worded this.

“Perhaps if it was just you here, Your Highness,” the uglier one said. Loki stiffened, but Thor didn’t react. Either he didn’t get it or didn’t care. But Loki wasn’t so far gone in drink that he didn’t understand, nor did he miss the way the redhead’s eyes narrowed at him. It sparked a flash of irritation in him—he was the prince, they had no right to look at him that way. But he looked down at the table, a habit honed in court, where it was easier to bow his head and dig his nails into his palms rather than argue with Father.

Loki digging his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood has become one of his tics, the more I’ve written of him. This...may have been the first time I referenced it?

With a chuckle, Thor said, “It is just us here.”

The man laughed too. It was much less nice than Thor’s dumb, likable laugh. “Aye, Prince. You and your greasy brother.”

Head canon: Loki’s hair looks greasy because he hates its natural curl and he dumps product on it. He would rather it looked bad in any other way than be curly.

The smile fell off Thor’s face and he removed his arm from Loki’s shoulders. “What?” he said, suddenly sounding far less drunk.

“It’s not the grease we mind,” the redhead piped up.

Loki raised his head, sensing danger. It was best not to be looking at your lap when you knew it was coming. His daggers were a comforting weight on his forearms, but Thor hadn’t brought a weapon tonight. Why would he? Loki went out into the city by himself all the time, and he never had any trouble. And if one of them was going to have trouble, it would certainly be Loki—less trusted, less loved. Too pale, too quiet. Unnatural.

Loki is definitely an unreliable narrator here. He sees hatred and distrust everywhere he looks. There’s obviously an element of truth to that (as we’re about to see), but on the other hand, he’s been drinking at this pub for ages with no trouble. He knows the bartender. Loki’s mind really prioritizes negative experiences (I guess most people do but Loki, anxiety and depression ridden Loki, really does).

“No, not at all,” the man said. “Who hasn’t skipped a bath now and then? No, the thing is, we don’t drink with faggots.”

I remember after I posted this fic, I went back a few days later and added the tag ‘period typical homophobia’ because of this line.

The room didn’t actually fall silent, but it might as well have. There was a loud ringing, and it took Loki a second to realize it was in his own ears. His chest felt like something heavy, like the hammer Mjølnir that was kept in the weapons vault, was compressing it to nothing, and he was fairly sure that his heart had stopped beating.

Thor hasn’t been given Mjolnir yet.

The man’s grin was practically ghoulish. “Probably thinks no one sees him going into that whorehouse, the one where they keep the lads—”

I purposefully left it vague whether this is true. But since this is the director’s commentary, I can tell you - it’s true! Loki does frequent a brothel with male employees. He actually has sort of a long term relationship with one. The guy is in love with Loki. Loki is...not. There comes a point where the guy confesses his feelings to Loki. Loki never comes back after that. Later, on The Statesman after Ragnarok, Loki finds out the guy was killed in Hela’s purge. He feels pretty awful.

The scrape of Thor’s chair on the wood floor was deafening. [...] “That,” he said in a dangerous voice, “was not a very nice thing to say.”

Kind of an understatement, Thor.

The redhead took a step back. The ugly one, who’d just aired Loki’s—dirty laundry? Skeletons?—didn’t. He was mixing metaphors. This was something he’d preferred to think of as simply a thing that he just didn’t talk about, but now that it had been announced to a roomful of people, it seemed like something he should have been much more ashamed of. Surely people didn’t stare like that otherwise.

Loki is...not exactly uncomfortable with the fact that he’s attracted to men. He knows, or thinks, that it’s outside the norm, but he doesn’t think that he’s doing something wrong. I have a reference in some fic...somewhere...I can’t remember which one, about how Asgardians live such a long time that most of them will try having sex with someone of the same-sex, even if they don’t really think they’re attracted to people of the same sex. It might be in one of my fics for the Loki Rarepair Bang? Anyway, later, Loki will come to understand that. At this point, he’s still kind of like...I don’t know anyone else who likes this. I was really trying to walk a line between him being ashamed and him knowing, deep down, there was nothing wrong with him.

Then again, they may have been staring because of the look on Thor’s face. “Apologize to my brother,” Thor said.

The man looked at Loki and grinned. Loki folded his wrists inwards and fingered the hilts of his daggers, but he said in a low tone, “Thor, it’s fine.”

[...] “Best listen to your brother,” the man said with a leer. “Or maybe I should say ‘sister.’”

Personally, Loki didn’t find this insulting,

Probably because it’s a terrible insult.

but Thor clearly did.

Loki isn’t entirely comfortable with this fact. Thor sends mixed signals. He doesn’t have a problem with anything about Loki, and yet, he still gets mad about an insult like this. Obviously, it’s meant as an insult, which is why Thor gets angry - it’s not the content so much as the fact that these assholes are attacking Loki.

[...] Loki knew that a normal Asgardian should be offended by all of this. The disrespect, if not the accusation itself. [...]

But all Loki could see were repercussions spidering out from this moment, repercussions from getting angry, from standing up for himself, for fighting back. An Asgardian was supposed to fight back. But Loki knew that he couldn’t win either way. If he fought back, his father would say he should have calmed the situation. If he didn’t, everyone would think he was weak. And in any case, the fact that there’d been a confrontation in the first place would be blamed on him.

At the heart of a lot of Loki’s issues is this idea that he can’t do anything right. He knows what he would naturally do, but knows it’s not acceptable. He knows what he “should” do, but he also doesn’t think that’s acceptable. He feels caught in this impossible place where it’s literally impossible to win the approval of his father...which is the one thing he wants.

[...] In a blur, Thor’s fist swung out, connecting with the man’s face with a wet crack of bone and cartilage. The man dropped like a stone, but when he hit the ground he tried to roll away. His red-headed friend stepped forward, bringing a fist up.

I remember really, really not wanting to write a fight scene here, haha.

In a second, Loki was on his feet, holding out a hand that was suddenly grasping a dagger. The redhead jolted to a stop as Loki extended it so the point rested inches from the tip of the other man’s nose. With an icy smile, Loki said, “I wouldn’t.”

I very much love writing Loki wielding his knives.

The redhead’s face twisted in a snarl, but he lowered his hands to his sides. There was that taken care of, at least.

Thor kicked the other man out from the table he was trying to crawl underneath, grabbing him by one of the pauldrons on his shoulders and hauling him to his feet. The man took a wild swing at Thor and missed. In return, Thor head-butted him, smashing his already ruined nose to an unrecognizable, bloody pulp. Then he slammed the man down on the table, one hand around his neck. The tabletop splintered and bowed with the force of the blow. Their ales splattered everywhere.

“Thor,” Loki said warningly. “That’s enough. He’s an idiot—let him go.” But Thor was too far gone. The rage of battle, he liked to call it. Loki preferred to think of it as dumb, animal bloodlust. The man’s face was turning red while he wheezed, and his attempts to hit Thor were growing weaker.

“Thor.” Loki took a chance, lowered his dagger, and stepped forward. He wrapped a hand around his brother’s shoulder and pulled him back, though of course his strength was no match for Thor’s. If Thor wanted to kill this man, he could, and Loki would be powerless to stop him with mere strength. Sorcery, yes. But that was what had gotten them into this in the first place. And besides, Loki didn’t think Thor would thank him for magicking him. “Stop. It’s not worth it.” Thor bared his teeth and squeezed his fist tighter around the man’s neck. The man’s eyes popped and his wheezing became a thin whistle, then the absence of anything in his gaping mouth as Thor cut off his air supply.

For a moment, Loki studied the man. He’d thought—he’d assumed—that he would feel a bolt of horror, of a desperate need to stop this so a life could be spared. But as he looked down and searched for that feeling, he just found a cold emptiness. What did he care if this man died?

I believe that Loki is a deeply sensitive person, who cares and loves with absolute abandon...if you make it to the very inner reaches of his heart. Otherwise, he probably doesn’t give a shit about you. I want to show that here, that Loki has this very cold-blooded side. It’s not that he likes killing people or inflicting pain, but it doesn’t bother him.

What he cared about was not causing more trouble than had already been caused. About making sure Thor didn’t do something rash and stupid. And about not getting the blame himself for something that he hadn’t started, because for his whole life, people had been ready to believe the worst of him.

Here’s some set-up for Loki’s eventual scheme to prevent Thor from taking the throne. Loki knows Thor acts without thinking. Here, he wants to stop it. Later, he’ll use it against Thor. Here, Loki is very much fighting against people’s perception of him. He wants to be loved. This flips for him later, where he embraces what (he thinks) people think of him and really tries to become the villain. It’s not a natural fit on him.

“Brother, please,” Loki hissed. “Stop. Think.”

This is an intentional echo of Loki’s dialogue to Thor on Jotunheim in Thor 1.

And why should this work now, when it rarely did? But Loki felt the tenseness go out of Thor’s shoulder, and after a second, he released his hold on the man, pushing him away. The force of the push slid the man across the table and headfirst onto the floor, but he was moaning, so clearly he wasn’t dead.

For the first time, Loki glanced around the alehouse. If there hadn’t been silence before, there certainly was now. Everyone in the place was staring, and not in a friendly way. The look in Birger’s eyes was unmistakable.

I used the name Birger for the bartender because I figured I wouldn’t want to use it for a more important character.

[...] He [...] smiled as though nothing was wrong, met Thor’s eyes, and walked to the door. Spine straight, shoulders back, the half-smile on his face that he wore when he didn’t want anyone to know how much he was breaking inside.

Loki is a practiced actor. There’s far more going on inside his head than he’ll ever let on.

He didn’t even know why this, of all things, should crack one more piece of him. Certainly, it wasn’t the idea of gossip about him. There was already gossip about the fact that he liked men as well as women. Mother already knew, anyway. She’d sat him down one day, several months after she’d noticed his eyes following not just some of the attractive serving girls, but also boys, and had the excruciatingly awful Talk with him that he was sure Thor had gotten from their father, not from her. “You know to take precautions to prevent disease, not just pregnancy?” she’d asked, and he’d managed to stammer, his face bright red and burning, “Yes, Mother, of course.” Honestly he hadn’t thought much about it, but the only thing that could have made that moment worse was admitting ignorance.

“Will you be my fester-man?” has Loki remembering talking about his attraction to men with Odin, and how absolutely mortifying it was. Odin’s side of this talk is telling Loki that whoever he wants to sleep with is fine, but he needs to marry a woman and produce an heir.

But Thor was here to witness this, and maybe that was what made it seem so awful. Thor, who meant the world to him, but whom he worried saw him as lesser. Lesser than his friends, the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif, lesser than every other Asgardian. Lesser than Thor himself. Why wouldn’t he see Loki as lesser, when Thor was going to be king? When despite this display tonight, he’d receive no more punishment than a stern talking-to from Father?

Loki had kept his cool, Loki had defused the situation—they were walking away from this with everyone alive because of him. And yet he was the one who everyone would see as the one who hadn’t done things quite right, while Thor, who’d nearly killed a man out of anger, would have his actions waved away. Loki’s circumspection was a flaw, while Thor’s hot-headedness was a virtue. Loki would never hold the throne because he wasn’t Asgardian enough, and Thor was too Asgardian for his own good.

Really the core of this section and Loki’s bitterness—Loki can do nothing right, and Thor can do no wrong. Loki sees his outsider status as both a flaw, but also as an advantage. He does feel he did the right thing in this situation, but he knows no one else will feel that way. Thor’s reaction was maybe not good, but it’s what everyone would expect.

It wasn’t that Loki didn’t appreciate that his brother had almost killed a man to protect him. It was just, he didn’t need to be protected, and he could see the outcome of this writ large as though it was scrawled across the front of the palace. It made him want to scream. It made him hate Thor with such a scalding fierceness that it scared him. He couldn’t hate Thor. But nothing was fair, and Thor never did anything about it.

He hates Thor. He loves Thor. One thing this fic really taught me about Loki was how he lives with cognitive dissonance every moment of every day. He holds these massive contradictory feelings inside him and they just sit next to each other, totally irreconcilable.

The two of them walked the dark streets of Asgard in silence, Thor’s heavy breathing quieting the farther they got from the alehouse. [...] “I suppose you want to know if what they said is true,” he said, staring straight ahead into the dark. His eyes found the palace, shining golden in the distance.

Thor made a noise. In his periphery, Loki saw his brother look towards him. “I know it’s true,” Thor said. “I mean, maybe not the part about the…um, establishment, but you liking men, I already knew that.”

Swallowing, Loki said, “And?”

“And what?”

Loki stopped walking and it took Thor a couple steps to realize it. As Thor turned back to him, Loki asked, “And… [...] Do you care?”

[...] “Why would I care?” Thor asked. And then, “Did you think I would care?”

“I…” Loki hugged his arms over his chest until he realized it looked childish, like he had something to hide, something to be ashamed of. Dropping his arms to his side, he said, “They cared in there.”

Thor snorted and shook his head. “They were fools. I’ve never known you to put any stock in the opinions of fools, brother.”

“So you don’t,” Loki pressed. It seemed of the utmost importance that Thor actually say these words. Loki needed him to prove it, not with his fists, but on Loki’s territory, by saying it. Out loud. Unequivocally. Plainly.

Loki needs to be told things verbally. He needs people to tell him, straight up, ‘I love you.’ ‘You’re worthy.’ Etc. Which I think is why Odin’s ‘No, Loki,’ is so devastating to Loki. Loki places so much important on words and doesn’t really look at people’s actions (Thor, incidentally, is the opposite).

Shaking his head, still looking befuddled, Thor said, “No. There’s nothing to care about.” Then he paused and took a step closer. Reaching out to put a hand to the back of Loki’s neck, he said, “Loki. Even if there was, you’re my brother. And I still wouldn’t care.”

I remember really wanting to get this right. I think when I first wrote this line, I had Thor say, “You’re my brother; of course I don’t care.” But I wanted Thor to just...not care. It doesn’t really have anything to do with Loki, Thor just isn’t a bigot. But I also wanted the sense of like, even if he did care, the fact that it’s Loki would make him rethink this.

Loki wanted to hug him. But that vein of resentment was still there and it stopped him. Instead, he swallowed hard and just stood there for a moment, Thor’s hand cupping the back of his head while he felt something inside him splintering.

And for the first time, he identified it. It was the feeling of his jealousy and love butting up against each other, two immovable forces that wouldn’t yield to the other. With a flash of insight that felt more like seeing into the future, like a faint hint of his mother’s witchcraft (none of which had been passed down to him), he realized this battle was going to shape his life.

He’s right.

And right then, he wasn’t sure love would win.

Nooooo Loki, it will!

“Loki?” Thor said, sounding unsure.

He forced himself to smile, and as he met Thor’s eyes, the resentment receded. Reaching up, he wrapped a hand around Thor’s forearm and said, “Thank you.” There was more to say, but it was beyond him. It was too much.

“Nothing to thank me for,” Thor said, sounding relieved. Then, he ruffled Loki’s hair, which he knew Loki hated. But this old, familiar argument was safe, and they retreated to it as they continued their walk back to the palace. Loki smoothed his hair down and wished he could do the same with the cracks in his life. Something felt changed, and it was frightening, and he felt in his bones that there was no going back to safety, no matter how much he might try.

Safety is an incredibly important feeling to Loki. I return again and again to it in my fics. There are certain people that make him feel safe, and these are the people he loves above all others. You can count them on one hand: Thor. Frigga. Stephen Strange. There’s an element of physical safety to this, but mostly it’s emotional safety. There are people who will let him be who he is, and he’ll do anything for them because of it.

Thank you so much for asking!! It was really fun to return to this fic.

Fanfic Writers: Director’s Cut

#Anonymous #loki #thor #brodinsons

7 notes · View notes