#he has magic though so if anyone tries to beat him up hell be fine

[blossom-hwa]

Worn-Out Soles [2] | b.c

pairing: Chan x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au warnings: kidnapping, injury, death word count: 12.1k notes: — this is a retelling of the 12 dancing princesses :) inspiration taken from the original fairy tale, the Barbie movie, and the retelling by Jessica Day George, Princess of the Midnight Ball. — mc in this story has multiple sisters as befitting the original fairy tale, but they are not blood-related for inclusivity reasons. In a world where magic lies in the arts, you are a princess of Terpsichani, the kingdom whose power comes from dance. Loved by many, you care for your country deeply, though in truth your heart only belongs to the palace's royal cobbler, Chan, who holds equal affection for you in return. It's a love that could never be, you both know, though it doesn't stop you from pining. But then you go missing on the final night of your kingdom's Moonlight Festival, leaving behind nothing but the memories of a final dance. When your sister brings news of your disappearance to Chan's doorstep, there's only one thing he can do. Follow you into the depths of hell to bring you back—or die trying. Part 1 >> Part 2 >> Part 3

To Spin a Yarn | Stray Kids Masterlist

The day after the Moonlight Festival, Chan finds himself up at the crack of dawn, restless and anxious when he should still be asleep. Last night was long, after all—after you bid him goodbye, he went to find his apprentices, who danced up and down the streets for hours before they tired enough to return home. 

He went home before them, actually. He tried to enjoy himself the way you told him to, so he forced himself to stay out for a few more hours before he decided he was too tired to continue and left. But if he was tired, he would’ve been able to sleep. He barely got a few hours of that before he woke again, and again, and again. 

It’s stupid, he’s certain. The Kereseian king wouldn’t do anything to you, not when he is a guest in your country. You said you would be fine and he should trust you. But for some reason, he keeps replaying that last moment over and over again. 

“I will be all right. Really.”

Your words were so certain, so strong. He almost believed you. But he knows how you feel about the Kereseian delegation, saw the trepidation in your eyes about their arrival that you tried to hide. You did a good job of hiding it, but when you bid him goodnight, all Chan could see was that fear. 

He hopes you’re all right. 

The sun rises. Jisung and Felix awaken a few hours later, bags under their eyes from the long night out, and Chan does his best to hide his worry as he brings them tea and toast. Chan gives them the day off to recover and disappears into his workroom to try and get some things done. He can’t focus, though, so by the time evening has begun to set, he gives up and returns to the main room, where his apprentices are starting dinner. Their banter echoes off the walls as he comes in. It makes him smile a little. 

Then a knock sounds at the door. 

Jisung’s voice peters out from the kitchen. The two of them poke their heads into the main room, where Chan is also staring at the door. “Are we expecting anyone?” Felix asks. 

Chan shakes his head. “Not to my knowledge.”

The knock comes again, louder this time. Faster, too. Frowning, Chan swings the door open and blinks. 

“…Your Highness?”

Princess Yeji stands in front of the door, covered head to toe in a large, brown cloak. Her eyes peek out from beneath the hood and in them Chan sees a desperation reflected in his own. “Chan,” she greets, short and trembling. “May I come in?”

. . .

Chan leads the princess inside. Felix dashes back into the kitchen, mumbling something about tea, and Jisung dithers in the doorway before following his fellow apprentice. Yeji sits down on one of the chairs Chan offers and he takes the other, trying not to show how hard his heart is beating in his chest. 

“My sister is missing,” Yeji begins without preamble. 

Missing. The word echoes off the walls of Chan’s skull, over and over and over again until all he can hear is that one word.

“…What?” 

“She’s missing,” Yeji repeats.

Flames of hell. Chan’s head starts spinning. 

“She didn’t come back last night. They say they don’t know who took her, but I know. It was Kereseia.” Yeji’s lips twist. “I don’t have proof—I  couldn’t give you anything concrete, I’m sorry—but if you saw the way the king was looking at her for the entire festival, how he spoke to her every time they met—” Her voice cracks and all of her composure shatters, leaving her face in her hands. 

Automatically Chan reaches out a hand towards her shoulder before a voice reminds him she’s a princess! and he draws back. She is a princess, and he’s just her cobbler, but when Yeji heaves a dry, angry sob, he throws caution to the wind and places his palm against the cloak, patting her shoulder softly. 

Felix comes puttering in quietly, Jisung not far behind. They place down tea, sugar, and spoons, then quickly disappear once more. As Yeji pulls herself back together, Chan pours the tea and extends her one of the mugs. The thick ceramic looks somewhat out of place between her delicate fingers but she accepts it with grace anyway. 

“It was Kereseia,” she says again, unwavering. “I know it.”

Chan’s memory flashes to the one time he saw the Kereseian king, when he came to take you at the end of the dances Chan shared with you. White clothing patterned with red that reminded him of blood, but not more than the cruel look in the prince’s eyes and the sharp smile on his lips as he led you away, hand clutching yours with far more strength than necessary. 

He nearly curses. He never should have let you go—should’ve fought, should’ve said something—

In the present, Chan forces down those thoughts and clenches his own hand, only letting it go when he meets Yeji’s eyes again. “I believe you,” he says quietly.

Her face crumples with relief. “Thank all the stars,” she breathes. “No one else believes me. Or they do, but they say not to point fingers when there is no proof.”

“I was with her when he came,” Chan admits, heart aching when Yeji’s eyes go wide. “She—I—we had been dancing for a while. I was just about to escort her back to the palace. But he—the Kereseian king—he came, and he said he would take her back, and she kept telling me to go, that she would be fine…” Guilt and anger clog his throat, and he can say no more. 

Yeji takes his hand this time, squeezing it gently. “It wasn’t your fault,” she says, with so much certainty that Chan can’t help but almost believe her. “I know my sister; she wouldn’t have let you come. For your own safety. And I’m sure she wouldn’t have expected…”

Silence falls between the two of them, neither knowing what to say. 

Eventually, Chan speaks. “Who do they think did it, if not for Kereseia?” 

“I don’t know,” Yeji says. “But that’s why I came.” She looks him dead in the eye. “Please, Chan. Find her for us.”

Chan blinks once. Twice. Nearly laughs, but Yeji’s incredibly serious expression tears the potential humor out of his chest. 

“Me?”

“Yes.” She swallows. “And I—I do not ask this lightly. If I wasn’t currently being kept under lock and key with the rest of my sisters all hours of the day, I’d do it myself.” 

She would. Chan doesn’t know Yeji as well as he knows you, but he does know she’s one of the strongest and most stubborn of the sisters. 

Which means she must be truly desperate if she’s come to him for help. 

“I’m only here now because my sisters are distracting the guards. I’ll have to return soon.” Her eyes flicker over to the clock in the corner of the room, then back to him. “But—Chan. You wouldn’t have heard, but my father is to issue a proclamation to our land and others. Our military will continue to search for Y/N, but should anyone find her, they will be rewarded with her hand in marriage.” Yeji’s lip curls just as Chan’s heart twists. “I expect there will eager adventurers showing up at our gates soon, claiming they will try their own hand. None of them care for her. None of them want her back safely. And I don’t trust a single one of them to succeed.”

Chan tamps down a wave of jealousy and anger. “So why do you think I will?” he asks, voice barely steady. 

“Because you care. Because you know who we face. And because you would want her back safely, for her own sake and no one else’s.” Yeji swallows hard. “I know I ask much of you, perhaps for you to risk or even give your own life. But you—my sisters and I, we may not know you as well as Y/N does, but to us, you are…safe. We trust you.” A tiny smile curves her lips. “You should know that when we first found out she was missing, Yuna asked me if you would find Y/N. You were her the first one she trusted.”

He almost smiles, his heart rising for a moment before it drops back into his stomach. “Your Highness, you honor me. But I’m just a cobbler. ”

“Chan.” Yeji puts her mug of tea down before fixing Chan in her gaze once more. “I don’t know who can bring Y/N back. I don’t know if she will ever come back. But you are the one I trust most to try.” She smiles a little, again. “And truth be told, I would prefer you as my brother in law over any of the other young, undeserving adventurers who might try to claim my sister’s hand without her heart.”

Chan’s heart thuds painfully in his chest. Every piece of him that cried with despair at the knowledge you had gone missing craves to listen to Yeji’s words, to throw caution to the wind and make for Kereseia as soon as he can to drag you from the kingdom’s depths. But a saner, perhaps more cowardly part of him advises caution, advises restraint—he could die doing this. And what of Jisung and Felix, then? What will they do in his absence?

But you’re missing. Possibly hurt. Taken by a king who has nothing human in him, who comes from a kingdom described only as having been borne from the depths of hell. 

How could he stand to do nothing in the face of that?

“I will go,” he says quietly. Yeji’s eyes crack in relief, but he holds up a hand. “On one condition. I ask that someone watch over my apprentices when I am gone��keep them fed during a time when our business will be low and I am not around to manage things.”

“Done,” Yeji says immediately. “They will be well cared for.” Her face, pale and tight, shifts to the clock and back to him. “I must go now—the guards will start looking for me soon. My horse is outside. Please take him for your journey.”

“Hurry back, and be safe,” Chan replies, standing up. “And please know…” He swallows hard, his heart thumping with anxious resolve. “Your Highness, I will do all that I can to bring her back.”

This time, a real smile graces Yeji’s face when she looks at him—briefly, only for a moment, but Chan takes that smile and presses it into his mind, a reminder of the unbelievable faith she is bestowing on him to take on this terrible quest. “I know, Chan,” she says quietly. “You have my trust.”

. . . . .

Kereseia is at once exactly what you expected, and nothing you could ever have dreamed of. 

Granted, you haven’t seen anything but the palace in which you’ve been imprisoned. Your door is locked from the outside, only opened when someone appears to bring you a meal, and your repeated requests to leave—if your initial screams can even be called that—are left unheard. But your rooms, and the few sights you saw as you were dragged to it, provide enough of a case study that only cement your conviction that this place is truly a kingdom of hell. 

Black marble lines the floors, lanterns burning in sconces at regular intervals along cold stone walls. There were no windows in the hall they dragged you down and you wonder if there are any at all in the palace—if the inhabitants cannot see the light of day, then what is the point? Your rooms have none—not a single one. The walls are hung with the same lanterns you saw in the halls, orange light flickering and casting strange shadows on the dark marble floors. Crystal glints from the ceiling, hung in chandeliers that glitter coldly in the firelight, and the smooth silk sheets that cover the massive bed give you chills even as you wrap them around you for a semblance of warmth. 

It's cold. So cold. In the back of your mind, you’d always thought of hell as some place blisteringly hot, full of fire and the smell of burning flesh. But here everything is cold, from the sheets to the walls to even the fire that burns in the lanterns—when you stretched a shaking hand to the one hanging above the bed, hoping for even a sliver of warmth, even though a bright orange flame burned in the center, the glass walls were cold as ice. And somehow, it fits together even more than the hot hellfire you’d put together in your imagination—hell as the absence of warmth and light, the things that keep the living alive.

And now it’s going to kill you.

Shivering, you pull the sheets closer around you, shivering as a cold area hits your cheek. You haven’t cried yet, though you half expected to—shock, you think. It’s all still hitting you and you don’t want to believe it. All you’ve done is sit here and shiver for what has probably been hours. Part of you can’t believe you’ve been sitting here for so long. The other part of you feels like you’ve been here forever. 

You’re still staring into oblivion when a click sounds at the door. You almost stop breathing, eyes trained on the dark wood. Logically, you know the king won’t kill you. That he still needs you for his—disgusting master plan or whatever, to have a child who can walk in the sun. Until then, you should be physically safe. But irrational fear closes your throat at the sound and you have to force yourself not to wrap the blankets more tightly around you as the door swings open.

It's not the king, which releases some of the breath from your chest. But one by one, three servants enter the room, heads bowed, each dressed in the same black silk that covers your bed. Like a little funeral procession. 

The door shuts with a click and a thud. You imagine the scene must look at least a little bit comical to an outsider—three servants standing in an unbroken line before the bed where you sit wrapped in sheets, trembling, nothing like the princess you’re supposed to be. 

“Your Highness,” one of them finally says, bowing slightly. “We’ve come to ready you for the evening meal.”

Evening meal. Your stomach churns. You’ve never felt less hungry in your life. “I’m not hungry.”

She bows again. “His Majesty said you were to be there.”

You set your jaw. “And if I refuse?”

She doesn’t respond. None of them do. All they do is bow again, then leave single file, the same little funeral procession.

You blink. You’re not naïve enough to believe you won this battle, but you have no idea what’s coming next. Will there be armed guards? Will they force you to dress? What will the king do to have you with him at his banquet table?

You don’t have to wait long to find out. Only a few minutes later does the door swing open again, your heart leaping into your throat as the king himself steps into your quarters.

“Your Highness,” he says smoothly, no indication of how he’s feeling about your tentative transgression in his voice. “I hear you don’t wish to join me and my court for the evening meal.”

Something tells you he’s waiting for a reply, but you won’t speak. Can’t, really. Your heart still feels like it’s clogging your throat. So you say nothing.

“We prepared so much for you, too.” He comes closer and you fight the urge to shrink back. “So many festivities, to honor the arrival of our soon to be queen. Will you not even grace us for a moment with your presence?”

A chill runs up your spine as his gaze bores into yours. “I am not hungry,” you say quietly. “I am not feeling well.”

“No wonder,” he replies, and suddenly his face is in yours, one cold finger touching the skin beneath your eyes. You jerk away, but not before the chill of his skin ripples across your face. “Why, it looks like you haven’t slept a wink since you arrived. Are your quarters not to your liking?”

“They are fine,” you reply, forcing down the snarl in your throat. 

“Then what could be ailing you, Your Highness?” His eyes glint with amusement and you want to slap him for it. “If you need help sleeping, I could send a physician to help you. They would not dare refuse, as you are to be my wife, and my queen.”

He’s smirking. He kidnapped you from your own homeland, dragged you here, locked you up, and he’s smirking.

Anger gives you the strength to sit up, to look the king straight in the eye. “What makes you so sure I will be your queen, Your Majesty?” you say, rage clouding each word. “If I died before we wed, before we could conceive…now, wouldn’t that be tragic? Even more so if it was by my own hand?”

Silence hangs in the air after your statement. You stare at the king, who remains expressionless. 

And then he laughs. 

“It would be tragic, wouldn’t it?” he agrees. You almost shiver at the tone of his voice. “But it would be even more tragic if a second princess of Terpsichani went missing, no?” Ignoring your sharp gasp, he continues. “After all, I chose you. You should feel honored, Your Highness. But if you were to pass so tragically before our wedded bliss on the next new moon, then I would simply have to choose another.”

Rage blurs your vision. “You have no right!”

“I have every right, on the contrary.” The smile disappears from his lips, leaving behind only the darkness in his eyes. “A bargain made must be fulfilled, one way or another. If you try to cut your end short…do keep in mind that it will not bode well for any other.”

It is—so hard to breathe. So hard to think. Memories of your sisters flash through your mind, blurring your thoughts—lovely, sharp-tongued Yeji, sweet Lia, innocent Ryujin, Chaeryeong, Yuna—you think of them, and then you think of this monster smiling at them, touching them—

All of the fight leaves you at once, leaving you to slump into the cold sheets of your bed, gasping for breath. 

“I remind you again,” he whispers, right by your ear. You can’t even find the strength to pull away. “We are bound by contract, by fate.” The smile in his voice sickens you. “You have no choice.”

The words slap you in the face, one by one. And you can’t even argue.

He stands again. “I will see you for the evening festivities, Your Highness. Please don’t be late.” You hear his footsteps on the cold floor, then the door opening and closing, leaving you all alone in a cold heap on the bed.

. . .

You let the servants dress you, clothe you in dark silk trimmed with gold and silver. You let them brush makeup onto your face, adorn your neck and wrists with cold gems. You watch them take your rough white robes and pure white slippers somewhere you don’t know, and then you let them lead you through the winding halls, armed guards on each side, to the dining room, where the king himself waits. 

You sit at the table among the sneers and cheers of the Kereseian nobility. You eat little, and speak even less. No one bothers to converse with you anyway, only ever congratulating the king on “such a lovely fiancée, even if she doesn’t speak much and comes from the surface.”

When the meal is over, you pray that the night is also over, that you will be allowed to return to your rooms and—you don’t know what, grieve or cry or sit in silence until you’re next called or until you pass out. You just want to be alone. But then the tables are cleared, nobility chattering away as they move into the next room, and the king is looking at you with that awful smile. “It is time for the best part of the night. I think you will enjoy it,” he whispers, guiding you toward the crowd.

Somehow, you doubt it. But your silence only invites him to continue. “We will dance the night away, you and I,” he says, grinning even as your stomach drops in fear. “It is time for the Midnight Ball.”

To your horror, the nobility are already looking at you expectantly as the king leads you into a huge, glittering ballroom. The ceiling must be five times your height at least, inlaid with gold and gems that sparkle coldly in the chilly light of the chandeliers, and as the chatter dies down, you can hear your footsteps clicking ominously on the floor. 

The shoes the servants slipped upon your feet are nothing like the ones Chan makes you. The supple, bright satin you’ve grown used to, stitched with shimmering designs that made you feel almost fairy-like as you danced, has turned into stiff, dark silk that pinches your heels and toes. All your life you’ve loved dancing, loved every style you learned, loved spinning about any floor, weaving emotions in the air no matter where you were, and so it’s a completely new feeling to be walking onto the ballroom floor with nothing but cold dread in your heart. 

In the center of the ballroom, the king lets go of your hand, turning to the crowd. You almost run. But you would be caught in an instant, and besides, you don’t know where to go in this labyrinth of a palace. So you only stay silent and miserable as the king speaks. 

“Be honored,” he says to the eager room, “to witness the first dance of the Kereseian king and his soon to be queen. Two figures bound not only by rings, but by fate itself.”

Fate. You stare at the hand that the king has offered you, that word bouncing endlessly off the walls of your skull. This can’t be fate. This can’t be your fate—you can’t be sentenced to a life under the earth, to bear a child for this king’s hellish plans, to wither away in this kingdom of hell without a hope of seeing the sun. 

But the hand proffered before you says otherwise. 

Fingers shaking, you take the hand. Allow the king to bring you close. Allow his hand to settle on your shoulder blade, skin crawling where his fingers touch, allow his other hand to grasp your own. Only years and years of training keep your own hand steady on his arm, your frame as strong and sturdy as your heart isn’t. 

Perhaps it’s stupid, but all you can think is that he didn’t even ask if you were to follow or lead.

“Come now, why do you tremble so?” he whispers as the music begins, haunting melodies echoing off the walls. “I’m sure you are a fine dancer, princess of Terpsichani.”

Before you can retort, he whisks you into the dance. Your feet follow numbly. And as he whirls you around the ballroom, the eyes of the crowd crawling all over you, you stop thinking. Let your eyes whisper, unseeing, over the decorations on the walls. Let your muscle memory take over for your mind. Force yourself not to feel, not to emote, not to cry, because if you think—if you show a single emotion on your face—he wins. The entire room wins. Your despair will keen so loudly in your movements, desperation rolling off you in waves, and they will all laugh. They will all smile. They will point and whisper and cackle about the weakness of this princess from above the earth, and though you can feel your heart shattering to pieces on the ground, you will not let them have that. These scraps of dignity are all you have left. 

When you return to your room, having danced the night away, you remember nothing. You don’t remember his voice whispering in your ear. You don’t remember the other nobles spinning beside you. You don’t remember how your dance shoes could have been worn out in one night, how you could have gotten these aches and pains in your arms and legs. You don’t remember how you returned to your room. 

You haven’t cried this whole time, not since you arrived. You didn’t cry during the hours you sat in silence on the bed. You didn’t cry during the time you sat at the evening meal. You didn’t cry on the dance floor during a night of dancing you won’t remember. But as you lie in bed between the cold silk sheets, feet aching with the pain of following, following, following a man with whom you never wanted to dance, the first tears slip out. 

And they don’t stop.

. . . . .

Chan rides fast, as fast as he can, but halfway through the woods he has to slow down because it’s getting dark and his horse is getting tired. He’s needed a break for a while but just the thought of stopping for something as trivial as his own rest terrifies him, so he continues on until it’s clear he can’t anymore. 

He’s not afraid of the woods, even in this unfamiliar territory. He used to play in the trees as a child as his mother and father foraged in the grasses, and before he found his calling as a cobbler, the woods near his home were one of the places where he truly felt alive. Even now, with the weight of Yeji’s words and your situation on his back, the darkening woods comfort him, in a way. 

It’s been two days since Yeji came calling—two days of nonstop riding south, to where the legends say an entrance to the Kereseian kingdom lies. The kingdom is underground. Chan isn’t quite sure how he will enter, even where exactly an entrance might lie, but he’s brushed that off for now. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it. 

With a sigh, Chan dismounts his horse and leads it to a nearby stream. While he drinks, Chan unpacks the small bag of things he brought for himself. He doesn’t have much food left, but he should be close—and at that point, food will probably be the least of his worries. Sinking down under the shelter of a large tree, he lets out a breath, feeling fatigue overcome him as he bites into a chunk of bread. 

Then a branch snaps. 

Chan whirls around. It’s not unheard of for people to live in the woods, but he didn’t pass anyone on the path and assumed this area was deserted. An animal, perhaps? Or—

A small, stooped old woman hobbles out from the path. “Hello there, traveler.”

Chan swallows down his surprise along with a bit of bread and nearly chokes on it. “Good evening, my lady.” He cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth—he has no idea who this old woman is or her title, if she has one—but better to be more polite than necessary, he supposes. 

“My, you have manners.” She smiles up at him with surprisingly bright eyes. “I don’t suppose you would have anything for an old woman such as I to eat? I’ve been traveling all day and haven’t had time to try and find a bite.”

A few hunks of bread, a few chunks of cheese, some greens he gathered on the short stops for water he took on the way. He has no water now, but he can refill that in the stream. “I don’t have much,” he says humbly, patting the ground next to him, “but you are welcome to share what I have, my lady.” 

She sits down with a groan that Chan feels in his bones. “You’re a kind young man,” she says as he spreads out the remnants of his pack. “I thank you deeply.”

He bows his head briefly. “The pleasure is mine.”

They don’t speak much as they share their meal, only when Chan refills his flask and offers it to the woman. When they’ve finished their small portions, the woman leans back with a satisfied sigh. “Thank you kindly, young man. You’ve been good to an old woman. If you’ll come with me, my hut isn’t far. I don’t have much, but I’d like to give you something, if you don’t mind. As thanks.”

Chan weighs the old woman’s words. It’s strange that she showed up in the middle of the woods—without him noticing, too, and he’s been on the path the whole day—but she doesn’t seem to be malicious. He broke bread with her and she seemed kindly enough then. It’s true that she could turn on him in an instant now that he has nothing left to offer her, but that would be a lot of effort when she could simply go on her way without offering him anything in return for his food. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it if she did.

Anyway, she reminds him a little of his grandmother from when he was little. So Chan only nods with a smile, then bows his head in thanks. “I would be honored, my lady.”

Together, they trek through the forest, Chan leading his horse by the reins. By the time they reach what seems to be her home, a small hut deep in the forest, the sun has set entirely. The old woman waits patiently for him to tie up the horse, then leads him inside. 

If the hut seemed small from the outside, the inside seems even tinier, cluttered with knickknacks and trinkets and old furniture that, strangely, still looks like it’s in some semblance of order. “Sit, sit,” she says, gesturing to an overstuffed chair that Chan gingerly settles into. It’s so soft, and he’s been so tired after days of traveling and sleeping in the forest, that when he blinks he’s almost tempted to fall asleep right then and there. 

She sits in front of him, eyes gentle. “You look to be on a journey, young man,” she says, not unkindly. “A very important one. Would you tell me what it is?”

It’s a pointed question. Not one that Chan expected to be asked. Looking into the old woman’s eyes, he has the strange suspicion that she already knows the answer, but for some reason wants to hear it from his own lips. 

Well, it’s not as if he expected to travel any more this evening. Before he met her, he was just going to settle right where he was and sleep until dawn. Swallowing hard against the lump rising in his throat, Chan speaks. “A…good friend of mine. She has been kidnapped, and I have reason to believe she was taken by the Kereseian king himself. I’ve come this way to find her and bring her back, if…if I can.” His voice cracks on the last word, and then he falls silent.

The old woman’s expression doesn’t change, though her eyes seem to turn a touch softer. “You’ve traveled far, young man. And you’ve done well.” She leans forward, presses one of his hands between her wrinkled, warm fingers. “You are devoted to your friend, and I have no doubt she is devoted to you in the same way."

There’s no mirror in front of him, but Chan can tell his cheeks are reddening nonetheless. It doesn’t stop the old woman, who only smiles knowingly before she continues. “I am a witch, young man. A practitioner of the magic beyond that of the arts that your people have been blessed with. My powers are not as strong as they once were, but I can help you with your quest. Give me but a moment.” She rises and walks to what looks to be a small closet set into the wall. Chan watches her rummage around some more, then come out with what looks to be a piece of cloth. As she brings it closer, Chan sees that it’s a short black cloak trimmed with pale gold thread. A gold clasp fastens the throat. When she sits back down, she extends it to him.

Chan takes it. Up close, he can see that it’s a bit small, perhaps just large enough to cover his shoulders, but the material is warm and seems sturdy. But it’s also just a cloak, and try as he might, Chan can’t understand what she gave this to him for. 

She seems to anticipate this, though, if the glint in her eye says anything. “Put it on. And take care to do the clasp properly, or it won't work.”

He settles the cloak around his shoulders, surprised to find that it fits quite well. His fingers fumble around the clasp for a moment, but the second it clicks into place—

His arms disappear. So do his legs. And while he can still very much feel his limbs and knows that he must exist based on the indent he’s still leaving in the armchair where he sits, every part of his body is invisible. 

Before him, the old woman smiles broadly. “It’s an invisibility cloak, young man. Take care to use it well.”

Chan unfastens the gold clasp, watching in amazement as he shimmers back into view. The rush of adrenaline that had come with turning invisible hasn’t gone, but he reluctantly tries to hand back the cloak anyway. “I shouldn’t take this from you, my lady,” he says. “Such a magical item should be treasured. I’m sure you could barter or sell it for some food, or whatever else you might need.”

She pushes it back to him. “This cloak is not for sale,” she says firmly. “It should be given to the one who needs it most, and I have decided that it is you. How do you plan to go sneaking around the Kereseian palace without it, hm? If they catch you, you will be dead for sure, and no one will be able to help you then. Not me, and not your dear friend either.”

Unfortunately, she has a point. Try as he might, Chan can’t think of any other way he’d be able to go around the palace unnoticed—this invisibility cloak would be a blessing. So he takes it, folds it neatly, and bows deeply to the old woman. “I thank you deeply, my lady.”

“No need for thanks.” She waves off his words with a grandmotherly smile. “Now, I will give you two more pieces of information to aid you on your journey. Listen closely.” Her eyes turn serious. “The kingdom of Kereseia feeds on dark magic. Dark magic, when caught, is easily destroyed—simply burn it with a clean flame in an iron fireplace.” She points to her own fireplace, one wrinkled eyebrow raised. “Unfortunately, it is not easily caught.” 

Chan lets out a short, despairing laugh. Of course. “I figured as much.”

“Do not be discouraged yet.” She holds up a finger. “The dark magic of the Kereseian king is concentrated in two places—in his crown, and in the ruby he wears around his neck. Destroy these and you destroy him, and his palace to boot. No matter what contract binds your friend to him, it will be null and void if his magic is gone.” Her eyes crinkle in a sly grin. “There isn’t much he can do if his kingdom has collapsed, his source of magic disappeared.” 

A crown, and a necklace. Chan swallows hard. “There is no doubt he keeps these on his person at all times, I assume.”

“You would be correct,” she agrees, and Chan’s heart sinks. It’s not as if he expected anything different, but still. “The rulers of Kereseia have never been fools, evil as they are. But you are intelligent, young man, and you have a good heart.” She smiles, and Chan takes some small comfort in the crinkling of her eyes. “You will find a way.”

Chan isn’t sure why she has so much faith in him, but he tries to take heart in it all the same. “Thank you, my lady.”

“I’m not finished. There is one more piece of information I must impart to you.” A glint comes to her eye, and Chan finds himself leaning in. “I will now tell you how to get into the kingdom of Kereseia itself.”

. . . . .

Day three dawns—metaphorically—as miserably as the past two. When you wake between the cold sheets, only icy fire lighting your room, all you can do is sigh and wish you hadn’t woken up at all. 

It’s bad enough being trapped in an underground world where there’s no light or warmth, far from the home you’ve known your whole life. What makes it worse is that, apparently, there’s just nothing to do except wake up late, dress for the Midnight Ball, and dance with someone you’d normally not go near with a ten foot long spear. 

Ha. When you put it like that, your situation almost seems funny. 

You swallow a bout of hysterical laughter just in time for several servants to enter the room, each with the same countenance of a pallbearer that they all seem to have around here. Not that you can blame them—you think you’d feel pretty grim too, if you had to serve Kereseian nobility all day. They dress you in the same dark colors you’ve been wearing for days, then bow out with a whisper that your lunch will be brought in soon. 

When they leave, you press a hand to your heart. Try to slow your breath. It doesn’t work, not really—your heart has been racing since the first day and it never quite calmed down—but you can trick yourself into thinking you’re not quite hyperventilating. Not just yet. 

Another knock sounds, and you wait in silence as a fourth servant brings in a tray of food that you know you’ll leave mostly untouched. She bows herself out, and you eye the tray with trepidation. It probably all tastes delicious, but you’re about as hungry as you are delighted to be here. 

“Your Highness.”

What.

Your already racing heart spikes and you let out some combination of a yell and a cough, clutching your chest. For a moment, you watch the door in case someone comes inside to investigate the source of the voice. But no one does. 

Heart still beating way too fast, you survey the room with a careful eye. There should be no one in here except you, but you swear you heard a voice—

“Your Highness,” the same voice whispers, and then a familiar face appears out of nowhere, unclasping what looks to be a short black cloak from around his neck. 

You gape. You’re dreaming, you must be. There is no way Chan, your cobbler, is standing in front of you in your quarters in the palace of the Kereseian king. You’re hallucinating. You’ve gone mad. The darkness of this place drove you insane and now you’re seeing things. 

But the hallucination is so real as it steps forward, eyes shimmering with what look like real tears. It keeps coming closer, and you can’t bring yourself to blink the vision away, and then it gently takes the two of your hands in his—

You gasp when warm skin touches yours. Warm, so warm, so gentle and so familiar. 

It must be real. 

Chan barely manages to catch you when you stumble into his arms, desperately trying to muffle your sobs into his shoulder. He’s shaking too, you realize, holding you with at least as much trembling fervor as you hold him, and for what could be seconds, hours, days, you clutch him, sobbing, hearts beating together this time as one. 

“How?” you croak when you finally have the breath to speak, daring to raise your eyes to the apparition-turned-human before you. 

He takes in a shuddering breath, a trembling smile on his lips. “I had some help.”

Attention rapt, you listen as Chan tells you how Yeji came to his home to tell him of your disappearance, how he set out almost immediately after. He tells you of two days of nearly nonstop riding, stopping only for water and to rest at night. He tells you of the strange, kindly witch who gave him the invisibility cloak as thanks for sharing a meal, then told him where and how to find you. 

“There is an opening in the earth that the Kereseian king does not know,” he says, describing a dark cave hidden from the sun, the opening framed by two large rocks with a strange, metallic glow that came from trees of silver down below. “I only had to go down the opening, and then I found myself on one of the streets outside the palace.”

“And you snuck in with just the cloak?” You shake your head in amazement. 

“Well, I can be very quiet when needed.” He smiles almost shyly, and your heart skips a beat. It’s incredible how you’ve calmed with just his presence, your heart no longer racing a thousand miles a minute. “We need to get you out of here, now.”

Your stomach sinks. “I can’t,” you whisper, heart aching when Chan’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I—I don’t know the details. But my father made some sort of…bargain, I suppose, with the Kereseian king’s father. He and my mother had trouble conceiving, apparently. Enough that he sought a contract with the king.” You swallow down the disgust crawling up your throat. “In the end, in return for a child, the Kereseian king asked for one of his daughters. For his son.” Weakly, you spread your arms in some sort of attempt at humor. “And he chose me.”

Chan’s expression speaks of horror. “Your father knew of this?”

“I don’t know how much he knew of the current king's plan, but he certainly failed to warn me.” You laugh bitterly. “But the point is, Chan, I can’t leave. The king would only take one of my sisters instead, and I will not let that happen.”

“That won’t happen.” You open your mouth to argue, but Chan smiles slightly, cutting you off. “We may not be able to get you out tonight, but the witch also told me that if we can destroy the king’s source of power, whatever…contract keeps you here will be void.” He looks at you earnestly. “He wears a dark crown, apparently, and a necklace with a ruby. Have you perhaps seen them?”

A dark crown, and a ruby necklace. You think back to the past three nights of dancing with the king and fight the urge to shiver. “I have seen the crown,” you say slowly, remembering the heavy circlet of black metal and gems that always shimmers upon his head. “The necklace…” You recall a large ruby almost glowing on his chest. “Yes, I have seen it too. I do not see him much throughout the day, but every night…he always wears them.”

“Every night?”

“For the Midnight Ball,” you say quietly. “He…we dance. Together.” You fight to hide the revulsion from your face.

To your surprise, Chan almost looks like he might cry again. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness.”

“Why do you apologize? None of this is of your doing.” You press his hands between yours. “And, Chan, do not call me Your Highness. Call me by my own name, please.” Your voice trembles, but you raise a hand when he tries to speak. “If I had my way I would have asked you sooner, but I know your bounds of propriety. But you came all this way for me. You came to save me.” You swallow hard, tears pricking your eyes again. “We are on equal footing here, and forevermore I will owe you my life.”

“Don’t say such things,” Chan whispers. “You owe me nothing.”

“But I do.” You smile wetly, brushing a tear from his cheek. “So please, at the least—call me by my name, Chan.”

For a moment it looks like he will still argue, but he doesn’t, only replies with a wobbly smile that is more beautiful than any gem you have ever seen. “As you wish…Y/N.”

You can’t help your own smile as you bring him close again, arms wrapping around his chest. “Thank you, Chan,” you whisper, voice unsteady with emotion.

The two of you stay like that for a while, just breathing together, then Chan gently continues. “The witch told me that the crown and necklace are where the king’s dark magic is concentrated,” he says quietly. “If we can take them somehow, all we need to do is burn them in an iron fireplace, which she has in her home.”

“He always seems to be wearing them, though.” You press your lips together, thinking. “You might need to take them while he sleeps. Unless he wears them both even then…”

“It’s worth a try,” Chan replies. He sets his jaw. “If I can try and slip in with this cloak and take them then, I’ll get you out and we can escape.”

“It’ll be a long wait,” you warn. “The Midnight Ball lasts all night, until dawn. Only then will he return to his rooms, if he even does—I do not know his habits. But…” Your narrow your eyes. “At night, the servants will come to dress me for the Midnight Ball. When we leave, you must leave with us. Of course, wear the cloak. Come to the ball invisible, and you will see the crown and the ruby so you know what to take, and when the night ends, follow the king to his chambers. He has to go there at some point. Then, when he falls asleep, you can take them.” 

“You’re a genius,” Chan breathes. “Yes, hopefully this should work.” Suddenly, he frowns. “But how will I get you out? Your door is locked.”

You purse your lips. “He must have a key somewhere,” you conclude quietly. “I expect he keeps it on his person, since he has…he’s come before.” You ignore Chan’s look of concern. “You may find it in his room. But I will also try to see if I can keep the door wedged open slightly, or something.”

Chan doesn’t look entirely happy. You can’t fully fight the worry lodged in your own chest either—this isn’t a completely foolproof plan. But it’s about as good as you can get, and you say as much to Chan, who agrees. 

“Tonight, then,” you say, forcing down a surge of hope that tries to spread through your chest. 

“Tonight,” Chan echoes, squeezing your hand. “We’ll get you out of here.”

. . .

You’re more nervous than you’ve ever been. The servants have dressed and prepared you for the evening festivities, and now you’re out the door. Chan disappeared a while ago, and the last you felt of him was the soft press of his hand against yours before he vanished. The cloak is truly extraordinary. As the guards lead you down to the banquet hall, you send good wishes to the witch who gifted it to him. 

It feels like you’re in a daze, almost, as you run through the motions of the evening. No one speaks to you as per usual at the meal, and when the king takes you to the center of the ballroom for your first dance of the night, you accept his hand blankly and let your muscles take over. All the while your heart is racing like no tomorrow, beating so hard you’re terrified the king will hear it, but he doesn’t say a word about it the whole night, which gives you hope. 

Until the ball ends, and he says he has something he’d like you to see. 

Immediately your throat seizes. He’s caught Chan. You don’t know when, or how—the king hasn’t left your side all night—but he caught Chan and he’s about to show you his mangled body or corpse—

Shut. Up. You force yourself to breathe. “As you wish, Your Majesty.” 

If your voice is a little more stilted than it usually is, he says nothing.

The king leads you in the direction of your rooms. Between the confusion and the terror of Chan possibly having been caught, you can hardly breathe, can barely take in what he’s saying as you pass through the myriad of rooms and halls, but then he leads you down a different path from the one you usually take. Finally, he stops in what looks like it would be an atrium if there was sunlight in this damned place. A fountain stands in the middle of the round floor under a high, vaulted ceiling, clear water running gently into the basin. 

It's rather beautiful, really. If only it weren’t in such a dark place. 

“Your Highness.” The king extends you a hand, that cruel smirk still embedded on his face. “May I have one last dance here, tonight?”

Your chest tightens in a mix of relief, apprehension, and exhaustion. Because if he wanted to show you that he’d caught Chan, he’d hardly do it while dancing, right? But also, why couldn’t he just ask for this dance in the ballroom? And you’re tired, so tired—your feet and legs ache like no tomorrow, and all you really want to do is lie down. You stare at the hand. “My slippers have already worn out, Your Majesty.”

“They’ll hold for one more dance, I’m sure.” He takes your hand even though you never accepted. “Why do you look so put out, hm?”

It wouldn’t do you any good to tell him the real reason—that he repulses you and you want nothing to do with him, ever—so you settle for a half-truth to change the subject. “You never ask me if I am to follow or lead.”

“Oh?” He spins you into frame. “Is that something I was supposed to do?”

You meet his eyes. “It is customary in my country, where all who dance with partners learn both roles.” It is a sign of respect and consent, you don’t add. That the one who asks another to dance must accept the other’s preferred role. 

“Well, I have only learned one role,” the king responds nonchalantly, eyes glinting with malice. “And it is not as if I will ever do anything but lead in this partnership. What would you do, either, but follow?” Then he laughs as though this is the funniest joke in the world when you feel like you’ve just been punched in the gut. “Now, dance with me.”

It takes all of your self-control not to slap him in the face or pull away. You remember that Chan was to follow the king back to his chambers and pray that he isn’t witnessing this, and that if he is, that he doesn’t let his sense of justice push him into doing something rash. “As you wish,” you reply, monotone.

Inlaid on the atrium floor are twelve circles of white marble placed evenly around the fountain. Slowly, you begin to waltz with the king through the circles, shoes sliding ominously over the stone, wondering—why couldn’t he just do this in the ballroom where you were dancing before? But then something shifts beneath your feet and only years of training keep you from stumbling into the king, though a yelp escapes your lips—

“Keep dancing, Your Highness,” the king says, cruel amusement in his voice. 

Embarrassment rises in your cheeks but you continue to follow dutifully, even as it becomes clear that the marble circles are rising, forming something of a winding staircase that rises over the fountain. Your heart leaps in your throat and in a moment of weakness you clutch at the king’s hands because gods and stars above, it feels like you’re going to fall.  

But you don’t fall, and the staircase continues to rise until the vaulted ceiling itself begins to open, as though by magic. A small gasp escapes your throat as you take the last step onto the final circle, the king spinning you once, twice, three times as the ceiling fully opens, letting in—

Light. Very little, for the sky is still mostly dark, but the gray light of dawn has just begun to streak through the sky, filtering through the ceiling’s opening and bathing you in a soft glow. A choked noise escapes your throat and when you raise a hand to your eyes, you find there are tears. 

It’s been too long since you saw sunlight, even as weak as this. 

“This will be my wedding gift to you,” the king says, breaking the spell. Suddenly you remember you’re not on the surface of the earth, where you belong, but underground in a land of hell where an evil king controls your access to the sun. “On nights where I am pleased with you, I will take you to the surface. Of course, the spell will only be activated if you dance with another on these stones, and who else would you dance with but I?” He laughs, malice in his voice, but you’re trying to fight the rise of hope in your chest as you think of another with whom you might dance on these stones—

Chan. If the escape goes wrong, if you’re running out of time—you can escape here. Via this staircase, to the sunlight. 

You force yourself back to the present in time to hear the end of the king’s deluded speech. “I cannot walk in the sun, of course.” His lip curls in a way that is anything but friendly. “That witch on the surface made certain of that. But you, with our child…” Suddenly his face is in yours, his hand cupping your cheek. “Someday, Your Highness, you might walk upon the earth’s surface with our child on your hip. Isn’t that a lovely thought?”

Gods and stars above. You pinch yourself hard to avoid doing something stupid—like throw up. Or scream. “Quite,” you grit out, fighting a wave of revulsion. “How kind you are.”

He laughs again, like you’re the most amusing person he’s ever met. It makes you sick. “Take a good rest then, Your Highness,” he says as he leads you down the staircase, the steps disappearing along the way and the vaulted ceiling closing on itself, leaving you with only the cold flames of the underground once more. “I will see you tomorrow night.”

As he turns away, you’re certain he doesn’t hear you whisper, “Hopefully not.”

. . . . .

Quietly, about ten paces back, Chan follows the king down unfamiliar corridors and through unfamiliar rooms to reach the king’s own quarters, all the time forcing himself to pay attention to the route and not to think about the cavalier way the king treats you, like you’re some sort of…exotic pet, or something, come to entertain him in this palace. 

“On nights where I am pleased with you, I will take you to the surface.” Chan nearly broke out of his cover right then and there to punch this king in the nose. But he didn’t, because if anything you have the first right to do that, not him. And because that would mess everything up. His goal tonight is to get you out of here—not to have the two of you locked up. So he forces himself to stay invisible and silent.

If he’s being honest, Chan doesn’t think he expected himself to get this far. Sneaking into the palace was a nerve-wracking thing on its own, and sneaking around the palace is even worse. He’s quiet, but even his shoes have heels, and he breathes, and generally makes some amount of noise no matter how silent he tries to be. So as he steps quietly behind the king and his little retinue, all he can do is pray, and breathe, and pray some more. 

They stop in front of a massive black door, inlaid with silver and sparkling gems. Chan gapes—this whole palace is full of luxury of the likes he has never seen, and he’s seen many beautiful things, working for your kingdom—but pinches himself to focus when two guards pull it open. The king steps inside, and before the doors close, Chan manages to slip in too. 

The room is built similarly to yours—dark floor, dark walls, no windows at all. Lanterns of the same cold flame that light up the whole palace are arranged along the walls, spilling strange shadows onto the floor. Unlike your room, though, there are treasures hung everywhere—gems, drapes, suits of armor. They look like spoils of war. Chan ducks behind some sort of ceremonial tapestry as the king’s servants undress him, ready him for bed. All the while he’s still wearing the dark crown upon his brow. 

Chan covers his mouth to muffle his breath as the servants leave the room, leaving just the king. Slowly, too slowly, Chan watches as the king lifts the crown off his head, then places it in an elaborate case by the bed. He closes the case and with a quiet snick, like it was locked. Which it very well might have been. Chan panics for a moment—how is he going to get it out of the damn case?—but he forces himself to breathe. He might not need to. If he’s lucky, he’ll be able to burn the whole case with the crown in it. With bated breath, he waits for the king to take off the necklace, too. 

But he doesn’t. 

In horror, Chan watches as the king simply lies down on the bed without taking the necklace off. As the king’s breath evens into sleep, Chan fights the urge to start screaming. So close, but so far—

Breathe. Small steps. He can get the crown, at least. Heart in his throat, Chan tiptoes towards the king’s bed and picks up the case. It’s somewhat bulky, and extremely ornate. The gems and gold encrusted around the rims weigh it down and he can see that there’s no keyhole, only a large dent in the metal. It makes Chan wonder how the king locked the crown inside, because when he tries to open it the lid won’t budge. Still, while it’s a bit large, it’s not so heavy that he can’t carry it. Chan slips the case into his bag and tucks the whole thing back under his cloak, where it all disappears from sight. 

Something catches his eye as he turns back to the king—a glint of silver. Chan leans in closer. It’s a key, hanging around the king’s chest on a thin chain. 

Maybe the key to your rooms. 

It almost seems too good to be true. Chan glances around the room, but nothing similar to a key catches his eye. If the king is keeping a key on his person, then it must be important. There must be a reason. 

He bites his lip. There’s the key, and the ruby necklace. The key he might be able to get—the chain is thin, and looks like it could be snapped with enough force. The ruby, however, is large, and the chain that supports it is far too thick for him to try and break. 

But he has to try.

Blood rushes in Chan’s ears, his heart thumping so loudly he fears the king might hear him. Slowly, slowly, he extends a hand to where the silver key lies, gingerly picking up the key itself. His heart nearly stops when the king rustles in his sleep, but he settles again, and Chan takes a deep breath. Careful. Gathering the key in his fist, he wraps a short piece of the chain around a finger and grabs another section. Praying hard, he jerks the chain. 

Two things happen. One, the chain snaps, leaving Chan with the key in his palm. 

Two, the king’s eyes snap open. 

Chan almost gasps out loud. Just in time he presses a hand over his mouth, muffling any noise he might make. The king looks around, head jerking left, right as Chan backs away as slowly as his trembling legs will allow, hardly daring to breathe. Don’t notice me, he prays. Don’t notice, don’t notice, don’t notice—

The king looks down, at the broken chain on his chest. Then he looks left, to where the crown case has disappeared. 

Shit.

“GUARDS!” 

The doors rush open. Chan doesn’t think twice before sprinting out, clutching the bag beneath his cloak. 

. . .

When you returned to your rooms that night, you didn’t sleep. You couldn’t—out of anxiety, of course, but also because Chan was supposed to return, and you needed to be awake for whatever happened next.

You didn’t expect to hear shouts and screams so soon, though. 

Footsteps storm down the hall as cries of confusion ring off the walls. In your room, you freeze—what do you do? Do you just wait? What else could you do, when only a key can unlock your door from the outside, a key that no one would ever use—

No. You steel yourself. With the confusion now, if anything, this is the perfect chance to escape. 

Mustering three days’ worth of condensed fear and rage, you open your mouth and scream. 

To your surprise, it works almost immediately. Barely have you finished your second cry, throat raw with the effort, then do the doors swing open, Kereseian guards looking inside with confusion. Calling upon all the terror you’ve shoved away over the past few days, you swing an arm out and whirl in front of them in half a semblance of a dance, biting back a smile of satisfaction when the guards’ eyes blow wide with terror. “There is someone in my room,” you half gasp, half scream. “There is someone in my room—I felt them touch me—HELP ME!”

The guards step inside gingerly, eyes still wide with your manifested fear. You slip through the open doors and pull them shut against their cries of confusion.

The corridor isn’t quite empty, though it isn’t full of noise yet either. You stay near your room, back to the doors, praying with some sort of insane hope that you’ll blend in with the dark walls. Then a hand touches yours and a shriek builds in your throat—

But when you turn around, there’s nothing, and your heart melts in relief. 

“How did you get out?” Chan’s voice hisses past your ear. His hand grabs yours, begins pulling you down the hall. 

“I’ll tell you later,” you hiss back, weaving through the growing confusion. “Where are we going?”

“Where I came in from.” Chan gulps audibly. “It’s a bit far—”

“STOP THEM!”

No time to think. Ignoring his noise of confusion, you pull Chan in the direction of the atrium. “Circles,” you gasp, praying he understands. A gasp of recognition comes from his direction as you screech to a stop by the fountain, fumble for his hand, pull him into frame. “Just—follow me!”

You lead Chan into the fastest dance you know, spinning through one circle, two, then three, then four. Between adrenaline and the slowly rising steps and your haphazard spins of the Apollonian waltz—your instructor would have a fit if she saw you—you can barely step without stumbling, thoughts a mess beyond the rush of blood in your ears. Your heart is pounding so fast, sweat in your eyes, and Chan trips over one of the rising stones and you barely catch him in time and all the while the vaulted ceiling is opening, the pink light of dawn slowly beginning to filter into the atrium, filling it with blessed sunlight—

Hope begins to blossom in your chest, just as a hand grabs your ankle and pulls you off balance. 

A shriek rips itself from your throat as you trip on the steps, banging your leg hard against the stone. Sharp pain streaks up from your ankle and you have just enough time to wonder if you broke a bone before your head hits the steps too and the world explodes into dizzying stars and in the moment all you can comprehend is that someone is dragging you down, while another hand is pulling you up. 

You glance down. The movement sends your head spinning. But it doesn’t take much thought to process the grim face of the Kereseian king lunging forward on the steps below you, your ankle clutched in his iron grasp. 

“Don’t let go!” Chan’s voice whips past your ear, clashing with all the fear and adrenaline shooting through your brain. Your hand is in his and you clutch it like a lifeline, trying to drag your leg out of the king’s grip, but it’s too much. Too tight. And all you can do is look at where Chan should be, his invisible grasp tying you down to earth, but you’re slipping, slipping—

And then, to your horror, the face of your cobbler flashes into view, one end of the invisibility cloak dangling off his shoulders. 

A gasping laugh sounds beneath you. You barely register it as coming from the king. “So your lover came to save you?” he cackles, nails digging into your skin. Something wet trickles down your leg and you think it might be blood. “I thought he was just a friend.”

Part of you wants to fire back a witty retort. The other part of you knows that between the adrenaline and the pain, you couldn’t think of one if you tried. 

“Chan, go,” you gasp, voice raw. “You need to go!”

He grips your hand harder but you know it won’t last. Already your hold is slipping, palms slick with sweat, while the king’s grip remains all too steady. “I’m not going to leave you behind,” he says between gritted teeth. 

It’s the wrong moment. Completely the wrong moment. But in this faint pink light of dawn, you can’t help but think that he looks like an angel, sent by the stars and gods above to help you, to save you. Your own guardian. Your own love. 

“I know,” you say, and for a moment a real smile curves your lips. “I trust you.”

Chan realizes what you mean to do a second before you do it. You can see it in his eyes, the way they widen in horror just before you let go. 

The king stumbles, unprepared for the sudden loss of tension. He falls, and then you fall, tumbling down the stairs that are already beginning to vanish as no one dances. “GO!” you scream to the blurry figure of your love still standing above, stock still with horror, and you thank every god above when he whirls around, takes the last few steps, and disappears out of the ceiling just before it closes. 

For a long moment, all you can do is lie where you are on the floor of the atrium, gasping for breath. All of the previous confusion seems to have disappeared, leaving nothing to break the silence except for your gasps of pain. 

A shadow looms over you. Your head aches something awful with every movement you try to make, but you force yourself to lift it, to stare the king in the eye. Triumph briefly runs through your veins when you see that he looks worse for wear, even if not as badly as you feel. His pale face looks burnt—from the rays of dawn, you realize. It must be part of the curse that keeps him underground if even the faintest sunlight can burn him. He winces slightly as he steps forward. Something must have happened to his legs too, perhaps when you let go of Chan and the two of you fell. 

“What an attempt at escape,” he sneers, and any triumph you just felt freezes into cold terror in your veins. You keep yourself rigid as he lowers himself, face entering your vision until it’s all that you can see. “I give you everything you need, even provide you every avenue for dance, and this is how you repay me.”

You swallow hard, tasting blood. You must have bitten your lip in your fall. “You kidnapped me against my will from my own home, and took me beneath the surface where I can no longer even see the sun,” you snarl back. Your head hurts so much you think you might throw up and every so often there are two Kereseian kings instead of just one, but you force yourself to continue. “How else did you believe I would act?”

“You could have made things so easy for yourself if you had just kept silent and gone with it,” he hisses. “Maybe I should just marry you now, hm? It wouldn’t matter if you tried to escape then.”

The thought fills you with terror but one piece of information keeps you sane. “You won’t marry me until the new moon,” you say, each word dragged physically from your throat. “It’s not customary. Not for your royalty.”

“Who’s to say tradition can’t be broken?” The king laughs, high and insane. Your heart nearly stops. “But I suppose we will keep tradition intact for now. In the meantime, though, I suppose I will need a new way to keep you from escaping.” He smiles, the knife blade curve of his lips so cruel. “Any ideas?”

If your mind were sound, you might have tried to throw words into his face. But you can barely keep yourself from passing out in pain, let alone summon something articulate from your lips, so all you do is spit in his face. 

It’s a little easier to think when you focus on the tiny sense of satisfaction you get when he flushes with anger.

“I see your leg is already injured.” His snarl turns into a smile, diabolical and cruel and suddenly your veins feel cold, your mind clear, too clear as he steps around you, wiping his face almost delicately. He stops next to the leg that burst into pain when you fell. The one you think might be broken. 

And stomps hard on it. 

The world explodes into a dim haze of pain, black spots blurring the edge of your vision. You hear someone screaming and vaguely you think it might be you. But it’s too hard to think, too hard to keep the flood of tears back, and you can taste blood on your lips and your tongue—

“Break the other one.”

Briefly, you think, there is no way I can feel more pain than this. 

You're wrong. 

Screams echo in your ears, and you’re not sure if it’s just your mind shrieking or if the raw, animal sounds of your throat are actually bouncing off of the dark, marble walls. It doesn’t really matter. Nothing matters. The pain in your legs is all you can feel, all you can see, taste, and hear—

Your body is a ball of fire and it won’t stop burning. 

“Don’t worry,” the king croons in your ear, one disgusting finger flicking a tear from your eye. “I’ll have you healed before our Midnight Ball—my court wouldn’t want to lose their new favorite form of entertainment. For all your useless body is worth, you do dance beautifully.” He laughs and the sound only makes your head pound more. “Take her back to her rooms,” he says, addressing someone else you can’t see. Vaguely you’re aware of someone picking you up, then more animal sounds of pain from your throat as your broken legs are made to hang loosely in the air. Your vision is coming in and out now, the room flickering in and out of focus. Finally, you close your eyes against the world, barely registering as someone drops you on the floor, and with a final burst of pain, your mind falls shut into blissful unconsciousness.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

[loregoddess]

ask meme for albert legend of dragoon? (i tap my pointer fingers together) :D also hi fellow LoD enjoyer

oho, one of my favorite characters!

How I feel about this character:  Honestly, I love Albert, one of my original favorite characters going back to when I was very young watching my mom play the game. He's just such a pleasant, down-to-earth guy for being, y'know, a king who got stuck with the throne at a young age. Absolutely wonderful character. Also he has my favorite additions of any of the characters.

All the people I ship romantically with this character:  I'll be honest, I don't really ship him with anyone (his age difference with Lavitz is a bit too large for my own comfort, even though they have decent chemistry). I know his relationship with Emille is like, canon and all, and I'm fine with it, but I kinda wish the writers had written it a little bit more...romantically. "Love at first sight" isn't really the best romance trope in my opinion.

My non-romantic OTP for this character:  Lavitz, obviously, but I also love that Albert gets into a few of Meru's shenanigans. Like yeah, Haschel is usually her partner in crime, but Albert was very much a part of the "let's listen in on Dart and Shana" post-St. Louvia, and before that he sought out Meru to "hang out with his friends" on the Queen Fury.

My unpopular opinion about this character:  Not about Albert's characterization per se, but a lot of online guides talk about needing to have Albert or Kongol as part of the permanent party to use as tanks and like, I get it, but it's also not true. You can use literally any combination of characters, and so long as you know how to use them you can not only beat the final boss, but the secret superboss as well (though I will admit, using Rose with either Meru or Shana/Miranda would be one hell of a challenge bc of how much Rose's stat growth drops late-game). Like, don't get me wrong, Albert is fantastic to use in battle, and once you patch his magic defense, he's basically unstoppable, but I have very much beat the game without using either him or Kongol before.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Aside from "please, for the love of love, give him a more believable and well-written romance arc", I really wish we got to see more of Lavitz and Albert's interactions in-game, since most of what we hear about their dynamic is secondhand, after Lavitz's death. Building up their relationship more would've made the scene at Mayfil so much more impactful.

my OTP: Shipping and handling not covered at this station for this character.

my cross over ship: I have exactly one cross-over ship which is also more platonic than romantic, and it involves no characters from LoD. It's also a secret to everyone.

a headcanon fact: Not entirely headcanon, but more a theory that I have about the dragoon spirits and their chosen wielders, but I think an integral driving force of Albert's character is fear. This is partly because all the other wielders of the Jade Dragoon spirit are driven by fear, in some way or another, but the trait isn't as obvious with Albert until later in the game where he actually expresses some deeper anxiety over the world ending (as compared to a few of the other characters). Moreover though, I think a lot of Albert's "fear" actually centers around his kingdom and his own ability to lead it well, as his personal battle on the Moon is with his uncle, the dialogue of which directly addresses Albert's worry over his own weakness as a leader, as well as his realization that his strength comes from his bonds with his companions, and that he will be able to lead his country better than his father or uncle could. (Notably, everyone's personal battle on the Moon has them overcoming whatever integral negative "dragoon trait" is holding them back). I dunno if any of that makes sense, because any time I've tried to sit down and write out my theories for the dragoon spirits and the personalities/characterization of their wielders, I get my thoughts all mixed up, but...yeah.

NOT a headcanon fact, but a canon fact, according to fan translations from the Japanese guidebook, which has extensive notes on all the characters, Albert hates tomatoes. I think this is the funniest piece of trivia the writers could have added, bc it never comes up in the game, it's literally just an obscure fact hidden away in the Japanese guidebook. Absolutely excellent.

[everyotherworm]

Crios is really good at magic, so he relies on it for all of his protection and when he needs to do important things. Because he spends so much time focused on practicing magical strength and not physical strength, I believe that 90% of the academy students could kick his ass easily if they were in a non magical duel.

[pokenimagines]

SFW | Volo | Fic

How would a... reunion of sorts go down with Volo and Reader post-story. Like there was something there before the whole Twist happened at the Temple, but there was never the chance to explore what that something was.

I don't even know what to say. I am so tired that I legit have no idea the what the words I just wrote were. Queenie is gonna have to work some magic. This is also a big angsty, but has a happy ending.

Rules | Discord Server (16+)

SFW Volo: Research Reunions

It had taken far longer than you anticipated to locate Volo after the...incident. He knew the wilds better than anyone else, so he wasn't exactly easy to track down. Thankfully, you managed to find him in a run down cottage hidden in a grotto.

"Volo..." You called attention to yourself as you hopped off Wyrdeer. You could see the blond man's eyes widen for a moment before narrowing. You could see him reaching for one of the balls on his hip, waiting for you to throw the first shot at him. You just put your hands up, showing you meant no harm.

"What are you here for?" Volo said, deciding you weren't about to be a threat to him. He still didn't want to see you, but at least he knew you weren't there to attack him. Not that he didn't deserve it after trying to actually kill you.

"Is it so wrong for me to want to see you again?" You said, getting closer to him. You could now see him clearly. He had bags under his eyes and his clothes were a bit messed up. His hair was back in its normal style, but you noticed it was a bit longer with a few tangles. "You look like shit..."

"Thanks, I appreciate that." Volo said with some bite to his voice, "Now what do you really want?"

"I just...wanted to see you again is all...really. I've missed you, y'know." You said. Volo looked at you like you grew a second head. He had tried to kill you and restart the world. He had sung about how much he hated your very existence. Now you wanted to...see him? You missed him?

"Why?" His voice was a bit softer now.

"Because...before all this, it's not like we hated one another, right?" You asked, hoping that your entire relationship wasn't built on lies. Before all this went down, you two were close. You'd even considered asking him out at some point; once everything happened, he disappeared. It had taken literal months to track him down. It might be naïve of you, but you wanted to cling onto the hope that he didn't hate you this entire time. That there really was something there.

"I've hated you since the moment I learned about who you were." Volo said, but there was something behind his eyes. You could tell it was a lie, he was telling to himself more than you. You took a step closer, taking his cheek in one of your hands, cupping his face gently. He stiffened up under your touch as you looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Is that really what you think, Volo?" You asked, desperation lacing your voice. You swore you heard your own voice crack near the end. When did these tears start falling from your eyes?

"I...I do." Volo said, pushing you off him, "You ruined everything, you know." He spat at you. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the hatred in his voice.

"If that's what saving you is, then I guess I did ruin everything." You said, getting agitated with the man. "At least I won't lie about what I did. Ya, I fought you, then I fought god himself. And I ruined everything you had worked for. Is that what you wanted to hear?" You asked, placing a hand on your chest.

"This world is disgusting, you know." he said, stepping towards you again.

"It holds beauty despite all the ugly of it." You said without missing a beat.

"How can you say that? Do you not remember when you were exiled from the village, over something you had no control over? You forgive things too easy." He said, looking down at you with pity.

"It's better to forgive then to hold onto all that hatred." You said, "It looks tiring...you look exhausted Volo."

"I'm fine." He said, though his fight was slowly leaving him.

"Like hell you are...I don't care if you hate me, Volo. I still love you, just like I did before all this happened." You said, finally admitting to the bottled up feelings in your chest.

"Then you're an idiot." Volo said and you scoffed.

"Says you..." You murmured, "Did you really never feel anything for me? It was a lie this entire time?"

"I..." Volo said before groaning, "I think what I hate most about you is how much I love you. It's disgusting and unneeded; it's distracting. If i hadn't let my feelings get in the way, I would've succeeded."

You were left speechless at the sudden confession before you let out a sigh and small smile, "Well, at least you're being honest now..." You said, walking over to him and grabbing his hand, "Can we start over, Volo? Before this whole thing started?"

Volo didn't move away from your hand, but he did take a moment to stare at it, "We can't go back." He said, his eyes looking pained, "What's done is done. There's no pretending like this never happened. If I ever tried going to one of the villages, they'd attack me on sight."

"Then let's move forward...you know you always did tell me all about the regions you had visited. They wouldn't know anything that happened." You murmured, playing with his hand. It was warm and felt right.

"You want to leave Jubilife and run off with me?" Volo asked, his voice just letting you know how ridiculous he thought the idea was. "That's the worst plan you've ever come up with."

"Then how about I just stay here with you, on the outskirts of the town. I don't really care about what happens. I've done all I can for Jubilife...the pokedex is complete. I've already done what I've set out to do." You said before looking up at him, "You know...we could always discuss things inside over a cup of tea...I brought some stuff with me."

Volo sighed before giving in, "Fine...you win this time. Come on." He said, already heading to his home with his hand in yours. This wasn't some magical, fairytale kind of love you had always hoped for, but it was the start of something special. You just knew it.

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅• Thank you for reading! Did you know we have a discord? It has everything from RPs, General Discussions, and even an 18+ area to go hog wild in! We even do announcements early for when the inbox is opening for requests, as well as other events! Come in and join us!

[our-neighbours-cat-is-a-menace]

Asking the dorm leaders to be your fake boyfriend for I week

It's been almost a month now and it's really starting to get on your nerves, the constant messages at untimely hours, the letters that just screams psycho, and the gifts that just make you feel pressured. Hell you even came to a realization that some of your belongings have magically disappeared.

Your borderline psychotic admirer have done all sort of things proclaiming it as his way of showing how much he likes you. You appreciate the sentiment really but going as far as following you while your out shopping is just what a stalker would do.

how did you know he was following you?

Well for starters he sends you pictures of yourself enjoying your cup of tea or munching on a strawberry tart, hell if that ain't scary what is

He wasn't a student from NRC so he can't see or follow you while inside the campus but there are instances where you have to go off campus. You didn't want to tell anyone of your current problem, it's almost time for the annual sports festival and everyone's busy as hell, it'll only inconvenience the others so you stayed quiet

You were never really a fan of confrontations but this has to stop. To do so, you replied back to his constant messages and asked to meet up and you can count on it that he was ecstatic thinking you're finally returning his love

You're either really brave or really stupid, or both

Agreed to meet at a cafe you frequent, there he was sitting in a chair constantly smiling. You didn't want to prolong this any further, you approached him and seated across

"Hi, I'm ___, though I'm pretty sure you know more than that" you stated trying to sound sarcastic and not totally nervous

The guy said his greetings and how he was pleased to finally have a conversation with you. Without missing a beat you told him the reason why you asked to meet up

"Look i appreciate how you feel about me but what you're doing is just making me feel horrified, we have different love languages i get that, but I'm definitely not a fan of yours, so i ask of you to stop" you said firmly hoping the message got across

"I see, you still don't like me then, that's ok, i can wait" he reasoned

"No, you're missing the point here, I'm asking you to stop, i don't want you doing anything, i want you to leave me be" you tried make it sound as nice as you can

"but you're not dating anyone anyway, so it's fine"

"look whether I'm dating anyone or not is not the point here, i am simply asking you to leave me alone, i don't plan on accepting your advances" you said getting irritated cause you feel like you're just repeating your words

"But you will come to love me, i know that, you'll eventually come to love me and when that time comes, I'll love you with all my heart and i'll protect you forever" he proudly stated

You feel like your about to blow up from frustration, your words fell on deaf ears, it's as if he filters out your words into his own convenience and just morph it into his own

"Look mister, I'm trying to be as nice as i can, just leave me alone, that's all I'm asking from you cause you see I'm already dating someone, i didn't want to tell you but if this is the only way to get you to leave me alone then fine, I'm taken and he's definitely not gonna like it if he knew how you're harassing me" you said standing up but he suddenly gripped your wrist HARD

"that's a lie, you can't lie"

"it is, we're secretly dating due to some circumstances not that i have to explain that to you" you stated firmly making it look like it's not a lie, this made the man slightly waver and you took this chance to slap your hand away from his hold, you didn't wait for anything you just completely turned your back and ran back towards the school

Upon arriving

A/N: ok all that's left is kalim, I'll be doing him thay sweet ball of sunshine soon. Thank you for the requests❤️

Masterlist🌻

[astaroth1357]

How Often They Worry about MC…

For those who don’t know, I have a little dog named Charlie and she is a large portion of my world. There's no need to be alarmed, my dog is fine, but there are days where I hold her and all I can think about is how much I worry about her health down the line… I suppose we often do that for the people we love, particularly the ones who may not last as long as we will. Take that as inspiration if you'd like.

Lucifer 

Near constantly. 

If you tracked his blood pressure on a grid, you'd see it start to continuously rise about when he decided they were worth having in his life.

Lucifer is the eldest sibling to a whole crew of brothers so he's no stranger to worry. He worried about his brothers when they were young, he worried about them after the Fall, and he still worries about them now (even if he's less open about it).

But a part of him knows that his brothers can handle their own, at least to varying degrees. The MC, though? He's far less sure…

They've proven rather resilient, but also headstrong and reckless. Neither of which are good things to be in a place this dangerous...

If Lucifer isn't careful, he can catch himself staring at a wall or window just wondering where they are and if they're doing alright… If he called them every time he had a passing worry, their inbox would be full by the end each week.

He holds himself back because he doesn't have the time to constantly protect them, but that doesn't stop him from sending a text once or twice a day. They better respond or he'll start (secretly) panicking.

Mammon

He forgets their mortality from time to time, but every time he remembers it hits like a ton of bricks…

Mammon is a pretty "in-the-moment" person. He doesn't spend a lot of time dwelling on the future, but whenever he does the thought of losing MC always comes back to him again and again.

Like. It's gotta happen eventually, right? They're human, humans die, hell they don't even live that long to start with!

The MC can always tell when Mammon's getting worried because he'll get uncharacteristically quiet and pace around or hover by them…

Every little injury or strenuous task will suddenly seem like too much to him as well. 

If they need to carry some boxes, he'll carry them all.

If they have to jog to class, he's carrying them. 

If they so much as get a papercut, he'll have a heart attack.

It's not very hard to get Mammon out of these funks - he really does want them to reassure him that they're okay - but he's never going to get fully over it…

Not until he can steal whatever top secret immortality formula Solomon must have used anyway… He'll get it off that bastard eventually.

Leviathan

Thinks about it so often he has to actively try not to just to get any peace…

He dodges his fears for MC like a protagonist dodges lasting consequences. Every time he feels one creeping up, he's always got a distraction waiting…

"Hey where's MC at? I hope they didn't fall into the riv-OH HEY CHECK OUT THIS NEW GAME!!"

"What are they doing over there…? That looks hard, what if they bre-WAIT DIDN'T MY FAVORITE VOICE ACTOR JUST RELEASE A NEW PODCAST???"

"What if the MC dies tomorrow and they leave me all alo-DEVIL FIGHT 200! YOU CAN'T BEAT DEVIL FIGHT 200, LET’S BREAK MY HIGH SCORE!!"

Cut him some slack, his psyche cannot handle the idea of losing them on top of everything else he grapples with every day.

If, on the rare occasion, he does let himself fall down that rabbit hole he becomes extra clingy and practically begs MC not to leave his room… like ever. He'd bubble wrap them if he could.

Anytime they get really hurt or really sick he refuses to leave their side even if it means he has to awkwardly sit on the floor. He just needs to be able to glance at them every so often to be sure they're alive… Still breathing?? Phew…

Satan

He worries, preps, rationalizes, then worries again…

For Satan, knowledge is power and every scrap of information he can learn about MC is more power he can use to keep them safe and healthy.

Yes, he will want their medical history. Yes, he's going to need a list of prescriptions. Family members too. And no, you do not get a choice.

He'll read up on as many things as he can - pawn medical journals off of witches and get magical alternatives from Solomon.

The cycle usually goes: 

1. He's lying awake at night because he just heard about some terrible bacteria that makes human's skin peel off or something.

2. He does all the research he can on this bacteria, its treatment options, best prevention methods, etc.

3. Gets right about to break out the rubber booties for MC to wear around, then realizes they have a very slim chance of catching said bacteria since it's only native to incredibly remote parts of Indonesia.

4. Feels instant relief that MC will probably not catch flesh-eating bacteria and can finally sleep again…

5. Hears of some other human medical horror from Solomon and starts to worry…

It's a vicious cycle indeed… But at least he's getting a lot of medical training. Soon enough he'll be the Devildom's version of a human vet (which I guess is just a doctor, come to think of it. 🤔)

Asmodeus 

Lives so "here-and-now" that he doesn't remember often, but when he does it's always heartbreaking…

Asmo usually tries to worry about things as little as possible. It’s bad for the skin, you know? But when the MC is involved, all of that goes out the window.

Like how a delicate blossom eventually wilts in the snow, the MC is bound to leave them in time… Usually there's supposed to be something beautiful in that kind of tragedy, but perhaps he's just too close to them to find any romance in it.

The thought of their death gives him breakouts and anytime they get hurt or sick he's the first brother to offer them comfort. Every time.

Because he doesn't feel like he's as physically strong as he brothers, he tries to make up for it by minding their health in other ways. Anything to keep his MC strong and beautiful as always!

If Asmo is in a worrying mood, then he may also compensate by trying to take the MC out to a party or some fun event. Why sit around worrying by himself when he could be making memories with them now, right?

Beelzebub

It comes in waves, mostly at night.

When your thoughts throughout the day are mostly, "I wish I wasn't so hungry," it doesn't afford you a lot of time to think about much else.

In a way, it's a good thing since he experiences a lot less stress. But those worries are still there and they mostly plague his dreams…

Beel doesn’t feel hungry when he's sleeping, so a lot of his fears will make themselves known overnight. An injured or dying MC is often in his rotation of nightmares though, of course, he'd rather it not be…

After having one of these dreams, his first instinct is to always make sure the MC is okay. If they're with him, he'll hug them and check their heartbeat. If they're somewhere else, he'll go to them or shoot a text.

He has woken up without realizing his nightmare was all a dream though, and usually it's up to Belphie or MC themselves to console him while he cries… It's so heartbreaking, sweet boy just puts a lot of pressure on himself to be sure they're safe…

When he worries, it's like they're the most beautiful and expensive China set in a room full of bulls and hammers. If he could tape them to his side, he probably would. He gets scared for them that much…

Belphegor 

More scared about it than anyone else in the House.

Despite his calm demeanor, Belphie is truly afraid of losing his loved ones beneath the surface… He's already lost one of his most dear siblings before, going through that again may just break him.

Unfortunately, he's also felt just how fragile the MC is firsthand... He's not even the strongest of his brothers, yet he was able to snuff them out so easily… Who's to say someone else won't try?

Like Beel, MC's death is a recurring nightmare for him but he can usually shake off his dreams fairly well, if not change them mid-sleep. More scary is when something is actually wrong with them or they're not feeling well.

Belphie always sets his inner laziness aside for the MC when he can. If they get sick, he'll usually be right along with his family to take care of them - even if he has to skip school to do so (not that he cares about class anyway).

When he's worrying about them, he tries to play it off at first, but soon enough they'll notice him acting overly concerned and losing sleep… Best to calm him down before he starts getting cranky.

[rebeccccccaaa]

TEᑎᔕIOᑎ

_____________________________

ᗩGEᗪ ᑌᑭ!ᑭETEᖇ ᑭᗩᖇKEᖇ ᙭ ᖇEᗩᗪEᖇ

ᔕᑌᗰᗰᗩᖇY: You and Peter have always been very flirty and touchy with each other. You chalked it up to just how he is, not that you minded. But what happens when Peter gets hit with Hydra’s infamous sex pollen and all he seems to be doing is moaning your name. 

ᗯᗩᖇᑎIᑎGᔕ: smut of course lol 18+ (virgin kink?, first time!reader, experienced!Peter, etc, unprotected sex cuz i forgot to write that lol be safe though, and a digusting amount of fluff) 

ᗩ/ᑎ: (non/dub con as per usual with sex pollen fics) although i tried to make as consensual as possible 

ᗯOᖇᗪ ᑕOᑌᑎT: 4.0k (i’m so sorry this is so long lmao)

_________________________________________

“We’re back!” Tony shouted, his voice echoing in the building. They had gone on a mission to infiltrate yet another Hydra base.

Peter was currently sitting and watching television and you were watching from the kitchen making two drinks for you and Peter. You both looked to the team walking in before scurrying beside Bruce and Tony who walked straight into the lab. 

“What did you get this time?” you asked excitedly. Sometimes the team brings back really cool things back from missions and in particular the Hydra missions have the coolest things. Unusually, Thor too walked in the lab before you all circled around the table and Tony placed a plant. 

He backs away as did Bruce and Thor so after looking at Peter with wide eyes you both also stepped back. 

“What is it?” Peter whispered.

“A plant,” Thor said.

“Not shit, Goldilocks. What does it do? You told us to take home, now what?” Tony said.

“Well, Man of Iron, it’s a sex pollen plant.”

“A what?” you gasped.

“Most planets use this as a sort of breeding plant; some species don’t really have the… stamina that Midgardians and Asgardians have.”

As Thor explained this, Tony and Bruce huddle away from the plant moving towards the computer to write down notes and data about what Thor was telling them. You followed pursuit also being intrigued by it. 

Unfortunately Peter did not follow and instead moved closer to the plant to take a closer look. The flower was beautiful. The petals were a soft shade of periwinkle and the pollen was yellow almost like gold. The same shade of golden yellow dust swirled around the flower itself. It was hypnotizing. He really wanted to smell it.

Suddenly as Peter got closer just to give it a quick sniff, he could smell an almost overbearing amount of your scent. That delicious scent of vanilla and lavender that you smelled so nicely of. That scent that made Peter want to run his hands through your hair and his nose along your neck. 

“One thing you should never do is inhale its pollen, if one does it could heighten their desires into madness.”

Peter looked up with wide eyes knowing he just did something he probably shouldn't have done. 

“What desires exactly?” Bruce asked.

“Well, sex.”

Peter started coughing.

“Pete are you ok?” you asked walking up to him.

He looked you in your eyes and his own dilated insanely. You backed away slightly concerned for your friend only for him to take a step closer to you. The lab coated with silence analyzing his behavior since it was so unlike him. Tony got up from sitting on a stool and Thor puffed his chest anticipating his next move; he was certain the boy breathed in the plant’s pollen. 

“It smelled just like you,” he whispered close to your face; his hands reaching under your shirt slightly.

The minute he put his hands on you, all three men ran you and Peter. Bruce pulled you behind him while Tony and Thor grabbed Peter dragging him away from you. You felt hot after what Peter had just done; in front of people too. He thrashed in Thor’s and Tony’s grasp, groaning and shouting from them to let him go. 

You felt tears brimming your eyes. You did not like Peter like this. He was crying and begging to be with you, which you’ll admit surprised you. 

“What’s happening to him?” you asked from behind Banner.

“The boy seems to have inhaled the pollen as I said not to do.”

“Yeah I get that! Why is he crying? Is he hurt?” you asked.

“Not exactly, the pollen will affect his mind and simulate pain as if he were to die, but his body will be perfectly fine.”

“What?” you all said at the same time.

“How do we fix it?” Tony asked.

“Y/n, baby. Please,” Peter practically moaned making everyone kind of uncomfortable.

“Well, the only way I’m aware of is, well, sex. And it seems like Peter desires the young lady,” you eyes widened and you shifted under everyone’s stares. 

“No, no way,” Tony said; you were like a daughter to Tony and therefore boys were something he wasn’t too keen on the idea of you having. He still thinks you’re too young even though you’re already a consenting adult. 

“Tony, the boy-”

“No, I’m not letting Y/n do that. We’ll find a different cure. Take him to his room and don’t let him out.”

“Tony, are you sure about this?” Bruce asked Tony.

“Yes I’m sure, Banner. There’s no way in hell I’m putting her in that situation. It’s not fair. Now come on, more time talking, less time finding a cure.”

“Technically there’s already a cure,” Thor muttered. 

“Go!” Tony pushed him out. 

“Is he gonna be ok?” you softly asked, hearing his cries and screams for you as Thor took him to is room.

“He’s gonna be alright, bug,” Tony said, hugging you. 

Steve and Nat both walked in the lab after changing out  of their clothes concerned with all the screaming they had been hearing.

“What happened?” Nat asked.

“Thor had us bring this plant home for analysis and turns out this shit makes anyone who smells the pollen horny as hell.”

“Really? Come on Tony, we heard the kid crying and screaming. What’s really going on?” Steve didn’t believe him at first.

“He wants to… have sex,” Bruce said shyly.

“Wait really?” Nat asked.

“With who?” Steve hesitantly asked curiously.

Tony and Bruce simply look at you, which you curled into yourself feeling embarrassed. 

“Oh no, honey are you ok? Did he do anything?” Nat asked, holding your hand.

“I’m fine, I’m just worried about him.”

“Don’t. We’ll fix this I promise,” Tony said getting to work.

Well now it’s been 8 hours and Peter is still crying and moaning your name. You had been in Nat's room with her, Steve, and Bucky. Sam and Thor had been outside ‘patrolling’ Peter’s room making sure he was as ok as he can be, though it’s been proven that he seems to be in excruciating pain. 

Tony and Bruce had been in the lab the entire day, you’d think they made wonderful progress and found a cure by now but no. All they’ve found was normal samples of Peter’s… everything. He was physically perfectly fine. 

You were very quiet as they played video games and watched movies. You couldn’t help but feel burdened because you knew you could fix all of this. All you needed to do was go to Peter’s room and let him have his way with you. It’s not like you wouldn’t mind. You and Peter have always had this sort of tension and extra friendly behavior between you guys ever since you met. 

To say you hadn’t developed feelings for him would be a huge lie. 

“Are you ok?” Nat asked you.

“No, not really.”

“I know you want to help him but it’s for the better. Let Tony and Bruce find a cure.”

“Actually that won’t be happening anytime soon,” Thor said, walking with Sam. 

“What happened?” Steve asked.

“They haven’t found anything and although Peter will be physically fine, mentally he could be extremely traumatized by the time they find something, if anything. The pollen mimics physical pain until sexual ‘needs’ are fulfilled by the person they desire most,” Thor looked to you at the end. 

“I want to help him,” you said.

“Y/n, that’s not fair to you,” Steve said.

“And it’s not fair to Peter if I don’t help! He didn’t mean to smell the flower. I can't just sit here waiting for nothing to happen when I can go in there and help him!” you argued, “If I don’t, he’ll not only hate you for keeping me away from him but me too for not trying.”

“Don’t be silly, he’d never hate you,” Nat said.

“He will if I’m the reason he’s going to be traumatized for the rest of his life.”

“Come with me,” Nat said, holding your hand.

“Nat,” Steve warned.

“Steve, you and I both know this has to happen. They’re adults,” Nat shot back. 

You followed Nat out of the room. 

“Are you absolutely sure about this? Your first time should be special-”

“First time?” your eyes widen.

“Y/n, I know you're a virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin,” you mumbled.

“Really? When was your first?” she poked.

“It was- was in, it was high school,” you stuttered.

“With who?”

“... Tommy?” you said after a long moment of silence, trying to come up with a name.

“Tommy?” Nat smirked.

“Yeah, he was in my history class,” you lied.

“Ok we’ll work on that,” she said.

“On what?”

“Lying.”

“Hey, virginity is merely a social construct made by men who think their tiny dicks have the ability to change a woman’s life. It’s gonna be like a five second pump; I’ll be in and out,” Nat laughed at that.

“Ok, fine. Follow me.”

You followed her to Peter’s room where his moans and groans got louder with each step you got closer. Truthfully you were a bit nervous about the situation. Sure you did imagine your first to be extra special in a dim lit room with flowers and with someone you love. Well, now it looks like it’s going to be a dark room with your best friend who’s in the room driven by magic sex pollen, but at least you love him. 

You got to the door and Peter instantly knew you were on the other side. His senses overwhelmed him with your scent, your racing heart beat. You exchanged a few words with Nat before she hugged you and left you to go into his room alone. 

You slipped inside and immediately met with Peter crawling on the floor to you in nothing but a pair of boxers; a large prominent tent formed where his dick was. 

“Y/n, you’re here,” he rubbed your legs and kissed your thighs softly still on the floor at your feet. 

“Yeah, I am. I’m here to help you,” you said shakily.

“Oh god, you smell so good,” his hand reached up behind your thighs towards your ass and you panicked. 

“Peter wait,” you pulled his hand away. 

“What, baby? What’s wrong?” he too panicked.

“Nothing, I just… I’m kinda scared.”

“Of what? Of me?” he stood up and backed away from you.

“No! Not of you. I’ve never… done this, you know?”

“Y/n, why are doing this then- ugh!” he groaned, a wave of need and sexual frustration rushed over him making his body cramp. 

“I want to help you,” you grabbed his hand; he pulled his hand back very quickly and retracted his body over to the bed. 

“Peter, please let me help you,” you walked over to him.

“No, Y/n. I can’t do that to you.”

You were getting tired of his arguing. You wanted to do this. You rushed to him and took your shirt off hoping that’ll prove a point or something. 

“Look, look. I want to help you, Pete. Let me do that,” you cupped his face making him look at you. 

His eyes were so dilated nearly black as he looked into your eyes. His hands caressed your bare stomach and lower back making goosebumps rise across your body. He leaned forward running his nose along your neck breathing you in. He used every ounce of control he had in his body to not flip you on the bed rail you into the mattress. He had to be gentle. The idea of you never have been touched shouldn't have turned him on as much as it does. 

Your stomach fluttered and you let out a shaky breath. Arousal pooled in your underwear with each move that Peter made. Your hands rested on his shoulders unsure of what to do but thankfully Peter moved your hands in his hair and you gently ran your fingers through his curly brown locks as he kissed and nibbled at your neck. 

He moved your bra strap down your shoulder tracing his lips along your collarbone to your shoulder.

“I'm so sorry, baby,” he whispered against your skin.

“It’s ok Pete, I want to help you. Teach me. Teach me how to make you feel good.” 

He practically growled picking you up and laying you on his bed. He kissed your stomach and left small bites and purple marks littered across your belly. He looked at you to make sure you were ok before pulling your shorts down your legs and off to the side. He continued to kiss up and down your legs growing harder at the small pants and gasps you made above him. 

“I'm gonna give you a little taste, ok darling?” he whispered against your inner thighs.

You nodded and lifted your hips off the bed for Peter to easily take your underwear off. You grew embarrassed at how wet you were. Peter only chuckled before going in a licking along your entrance. You gasped and clenched your thighs together, only to wrap around Peter’s head pulling him closer to you.

This isn’t Peter’s first time eating a girl out so he was obviously quite skilled in bringing you a lot of pleasure from his tongue alone. Now in his twenties, after high school and after his identity was revealed, Peter somewhat tumbled his way into playboy town just like his mentor. 

Girls left and right shot their chance to spend a night in the spider boy’s bed. But when Peter met you, oh boy, the kid fell in love. You were this innocent little thing that Peter just wanted to hold and take care of all the time. He couldn’t take his eyes off you. He stopped seeing other women in hopes that one day you’d be out of your mind enough to give him a shot. 

Now here you were, laying in his bed like an angel, letting him have his way with you because he was shithead and smelled the flower when he wasn’t supposed to. 

Your hips squirmed around, pressure building up in the pit of your stomach. You moaned loudly as you got closer to your oragsm. Your hands went to Peter’s hair making him hum when you tugged on his hair. His vibrations pushed over the edge and you came for the first time that night on Peter’s face.

“God that was hot, baby. Are you ok?” he asked, crawling up your body after discarding his boxers.

“Yeah, that was amazing,” you cupped his face, smiling.

He leaned down and kissed you for the first time ever. His hands roamed your almost naked body except for your bra of which you still had on. Not for long of course. Peter leaned back to sit up pulling you with him so you were now sitting straddling his lap. 

You could feel his dick against you and your body shuddered in arousal. His hands wrapped around you to skillfully remove your bra, the last piece of clothing left on you. When he did so you covered yourself in instinct never having been naked in front of anyone before in your life. 

“Don’t cover up princess. You’re so beautiful. I wanna see you,” he whispered, cupping his hand under your chin so you could look at him.

“Sorry, it’s- It’s a lot,” you whispered back. 

“I know and I’ll try to go slow but if I’m not inside you right now I think I’m gonna pass out,” he moaned. 

You looked down in between your bodies to find Peter’s dick big, swollen, and red. You felt bad because you don’t know if it’ll fit inside you and it looks painful. 

“Please, Yn,” Peter had tears in eyes begging for you to take the pain away.

“Ok, I’m ready.”

Peter grabbed his cock and lined up to your entrance. You got up and slowly sank down feeling him stretching you out. With how aroused and wet you were after Peter’s mouth you were able to slide all the way down without feeling too much pain.

Peter moaned when he bottomed out and grabbed your face you kiss passionately. You moved slowly up and down and soon all the pain you felt subsided into pleasure and you too started moaning above him. 

“You look so fucking good riding me, princess.”

His words made you moan even more embarrassed that everyone can probably hear you and Peter having sex. You bit your lip in hopes to silence the moans as much as possible, but Peter didn’t like that.

“Don’t. I want everyone in this building to know who fucking you this good,” he flipped you over onto you back and started thrusting wildly. 

“Let them know what a good little girl you are for daddy. Let them know who’s name you’re gonna be screaming all night.”

“Peter oh god,” you moaned.

“Huh? You like it when I call you a good girl?”

“Yes!”

“My good girl. My little slut,” Peter groaned in your ear.

You were getting insanely close to your climax and Peter’s words only sped up the approach. 

“Daddy, I think I’m close,” you whispered, pleasure becoming overwhelming.

“Let go baby. Cum all over my cock,” he said.

Your oragsm ripped through you and you practically screamed into his ear. Pleasure came over you in a huge wave. Your eyes screwed shut and your legs wrapped around Peter’s torso pulling him impossibly close. Your body felt limp under Peter’s and when you opened your eyes Peter's face held worrisome and frustration. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I haven’t came,” his voice trembled.

“It’s ok. We can keep going,” you said tiredly.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he buried his face in your neck.

“You won’t hurt me, Peter. I promise.”

He kissed softly before gently flipping you over and thrusted into furiously.

Six hours later Peter finally came after you did so nine times; and that was before you stopped counting. Your body shook and Peter cleaned you up. He had a small fridge where he kept drinks from time to time and grabbed a water bottle for you to drink. 

You breathed heavily after drinking a copious amount of water before laying back down. You turned to check the clock on his bedside and saw that it was around three thirty in the morning. Peter crawled into bed with you, both still naked not caring enough to change. He held you impossibly close, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry. Are you ok?” he mumbled in your skin. 

“I mean it was a lot,” you chuckled.

“I swear if it weren’t for that stupid fucking pollen our first time would have been softer and special,” he said, making you look at him with surprise. 

“What do you mean?”

“Uh, well, look. Y/n, I really like you and I know that timing is horrible but it’s true. I promise.”

“Well, I like you too,” you smiled at him.

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

“Wow. God, you’re amazing. Thank you for today,” he whispered, cuddling you close.

“Of course. I’d do anything for you.” 

You both fell  asleep soundly in each other's arms until you both woke up the next day from loud yet muffled voices downstairs. The sun was shining very bright, lighting the whole room up brightly. You stirred around and peeked over Peter’s sleeping body to find that it was around noon already and you two were still in bed. 

Peter moved a bit slowly waking up. You turned around to face and watched his beautiful face slowly come to life. His eyes met your eyes and you both smiled before bursting into giggles; hiding your face in his chest. 

“We’ll have to get up soon, you know,” he said, making you sigh dramatically.

“Let’s run away, before they make fun of us. They had to have heard, right?” you said, slightly panicked.

Peter just laughed and shook his head. He reached to kiss you, moving your hair off your neck eyes widening. 

“Oh man,” he said, thumb rubbing the dark spots he left on you.

“What?” You pushed the sheets off your body feeling intensely sore. You heard Peter gasped as you trotted to a mirror.

Your body was covered in bruises and hickeys that Peter left for literally everyone to see. When you looked in the mirror you yelled Peter’s name completely shocked at the state of your body. 

“I can’t believe you!”

“Well, in my opinion I think you looking fucking sexy,” he said coming up behind you.

“I like them,” you said shyly, “But everyone’s gonna see them, no?”

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen next time.”

“Next time?”

“Hell yeah. Only if you want of course,” he chuckled, “Let’s take a shower before we grab some food.”

That was filled with giggles and little touches. Kisses were exchanged practically every minute. You both came out of the shower and Peter so generously lent you a pair of clean boxers and one of his shirts fitting way too big on you. He wore these delicious looking grey sweatpants and a tight fitted black shirt. You practically drooled over him.

“No, later,” he winked.

He grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers before heading down stairs preparing for what could be an upcoming disaster. You came down stairs meeting everyone appearing to be arguing probably over what you did. Everyone noticed you two and immediately stopped conversing. 

Tony sat on a stool, arms crossed and an unamused look staring at you both while everyone else looked down or at each other, anywhere at but you guys.

“Before you say anything, everything that happened is my fault,” Peter pulled you behind him. 

Tony simply looked at you and made you feel shy and ashamed somewhat under his gaze. He told you to stay away and you didn’t listen.

“Don’t even look at her. She has nothing to do with this,” he said when Tony shifted his gaze.

“Relax, kid. Look we all talked. Thor told me about the effects the pollen can have mentally and the trauma it can impact when ‘untreated’ for too long. We weren’t going to find a cure anytime soon and I don’t even want to think about the consequences you’d have to pay because I'm a stubborn old man who didn’t like seeing the kids not be kids anymore. You both are adults and I had no right to interfere with that. Besides everyone knows you two are in love.”

“We’re not in love,” Peter mumbled.

“Love is such a strong word,” you mumbled simultaneously. 

“Don’t argue with me,” Tony said. 

“Sorry,” you both whispered.

“I’m sorry,” he admitted.

“We also agreed that starting today we will be installing soundproofing in both of your rooms and Y/n, maybe put some ice on…” he pointed to your neck but then waved around your whole body because you were pretty beaten up. 

“Thanks, guys,” Peter said holding your hand again.

“Congrats on getting the girl finally,” Steve said.

Before you two left you saw Nat wink at you and you smiled running away with Peter most likely to go cuddle and maybe fuck another round if your body feels better. As much as you hate to admit, thank god Peter smelled that fucking plant. 

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E129 (March 16, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are Matt Mercer and Taliesin Jaffe!

Matt, on DMing Luc’s Revivify: “That was weird. It’s one thing when it happens because of player action and circumstances and the choices they make. When it’s entirely on me, unintentional, and just realizing different chess pieces you’ve set up, that’s rough.” It was especially rough since this was a child NPC related to a PC. “I was hoping somebody had a spell slot left.” He kept in mind that there are two clerics in the room and that they could resurrect the next day even if the Revivify went poorly. “A good chance, since it’s his first time. Okay, okay, okay, okay, I think we’ll be okay, we’ll see how this goes. It was really stressful in the moment! I did not set out to have that happen, but when I realized what was going to happen, I tried to see it through.” He wouldn’t have prevented a chance to bring him back. “There may have been an offshoot short-run series of games to find a way to bring him back. I would have found some way to correct the circumstance so the players could feel good about moving forward with the story and there was no undue punishment beyond their control.”

Taliesin on Cad’s response: “This is a big thing if you’re a cleric. It was very much coming in like an EMT. Everything should be fine... hopefully. Just focused in and got it done. The minute things started to go south it was like, okay, that’s the next problem.”

On Yeza’s feelings: “It is a very complicated situation. I think he, much like how Veth is trying to figure out what it is that she wants, I think he’s trying to help her find that while also figuring it out for himself. I think Yeza’s also noticing that because Veth’s the more active of the two of them she also takes the weight of the responsibility and the blame for things when they go wrong, unnecessarily. Especially when he himself acknowledges that he’s partially at fault for even dragging everyone in with the Conclave. As much as he’s appreciative for them coming back for him, there’s a lot of back and forth. He’s filled with a lot of regret, too, but he’s very much trying to convince Veth that it’s a burden that she doesn’t have to keep to herself, that they can share it and work through it together.” Matt mentions that, as an actor, he really loves exploring interactions between characters first and foremost. “Especially when you don’t know where it’s going to go.” He also praises Sam as a scene partner - “I really cherish that.”

How does Caduceus feel about Revivify and Speak with Dead? “Speak with Dead is an interesting middle ground, because he knows that it’s not actually speaking with the dead. It’s really just-- it’s almost medical, really. This is just reactivating a brain at a certain point. It’s practically just a muscle twitch at this point. That doesn’t really prod him in that direction. Revivify is interesting, because it had never really come up. At first I thought of it as bending the rules, but it’s not bending the rules. You knock over a plant, you replant it, you don’t stare at it and go ‘Well, that’s over.’ This is just doing the work. No, we can bring this thing back to health. This is all part of the circle of life, that sometimes we can save something. Especially given the stress that he’s put himself through over the past year of being with these people. He’s started to think of himself a bit as a battlefield medic, and triage is just part of the deal, and it’s completely acceptable.”

Did Trent really just want to talk? “Yeah, that circumstance, as it came together, Trent would never have arrived if there wasn’t an indication that there was some kind of infiltration or attack. Even beyond that, it was Jester breaking the concentration on her charm on that one guard when she created her duplicate.” The guards’ job is to inform a member of the Cerberus Assembly, and Trent lived the closest. “He didn’t know who it was, didn’t have any expectation necessarily. The minute he saw the illusion, he knew a powerful magic user was involved.” Seeing Caleb was an unexpected surprise. “I don’t think he wanted to throw down necessarily. He was more interested in figuring out exactly what the nature of this was.” Matt had multiple battlemaps that didn’t get used. “They managed to cleverly out-maneuver him in his surprise of seeing them.” The Nein rocketed up his priority list after that very quickly. Taliesin: “We’re so fucked.”

On Cad being “Uncle Caduceus” to Luc: “It’s the thing he misses most about home, is being a juvenile shit. It’s nice to be able to express that part of him again, as opposed to the serious, life-threatening, constant intensity. I’m very at home just being a little difficult.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Beau! (_rumor_king, photography by kourtyardproductions on Instagram)

On Marion: “Like a lot of people in this whole narrative from the beginning, getting swept up in things larger than her and trying to adapt. This is a circumstance she’s avoided for a long time. She’s having a rough time in some ways, but simultaneously, she’s enduring. Like a mother would. She’s adapting, she’s making it work. Without much of a choice, you just kind of do the best you can and lean on the people around you to help you where they can. Luckily she has a daughter there. She’s probably surprising herself at how well she’s doing given the circumstances.” Matt talks about how weird it is to feel proud of character he’s created. “Of the many things Marion is incredible at, she’s a studier of the human condition. She’s seen and heard the stories of so many. That gives her a very special perspective. She can see elements of that fractured individual within Caleb, and knowing the good that he’s brought to his friends, and knowing he’s possibly saved her life from bad circumstances, she couldn’t not speak up. She very easily falls into that role of maternal comforter, because it’s one of the many things she’s really good at, she enjoys it, and she can see well when people need it.” He’s been enjoying having Marion along for this (despite the difficult circumstances) because he was always a little sad that they only got to see her for short periods of time.

On the Blooming Grove’s safety: “He’s afraid that it’s a premonition. He’s not pinned it down, but he’s happy to let his imagination wander. He at the very least feels like there’s a reason he’s having these thoughts, and that there’s a reason to go there. He’s a big believer that these things don’t just happen. He’s more likely to think that there’s a good reason to go versus a danger to go. He’s had a couple of ominous warnings lately, and he’s not used to them and not a fan. He’s more likely to read something like that as, there is something there waiting for you that you have to discover. There is something that is going to be helpful to you, even if it hurts.”

On Astrid: “While maybe not as readable in overall personality as Trent is, I still want to be careful to not discuss things that are still being discussed within the game and tossed around as possibilities. Astrid is another complicated character, as anyone would be who’s been through the life she has. I can’t say too much. I can say she’s definitely legitimately happy to see Bren/Caleb after all this time.” His reemergence definitely caught her off guard. “We’ll have to see where it goes from there.”

On Cad’s successful Divine Intervention: “He’s definitely hit the ‘on a mission from god’ stage. He’s been that way for the entire campaign of, this, this is what I’ve been waiting for. Even when it sucks a lot, it’s been nice that those things have popped up to remind him, no, no, you’re doing it right, everything’s good. Probably not going to survive the next week, but you’re doing good! Not quite 1 in a 100 chance, but I forget so often to make that roll, and it’s such a great roleplaying roll. I don’t know how at level 20 you could deal with the fact that you can do that every day.” 

On Zeenoth getting his comeuppance: the kidnapping was a concept Marisha brought up for Beau’s backstory, and Matt went with it even though it was opposed to the Cobalt Soul’s philosophy because he knew rooting it out would make for an interesting story. “I felt it was an important beat to bring to her, because it was something that she was wronged by. And to show that there are still some good people out there who are trying to make things right.” After the tentative peace, dealing with this became Dairon’s next focus. “I was glad we finally got to it. So many people don’t have the opportunity in their lives to get that sort of justice and vindication, so if I can bring elements of that justice into our world, even for our own hope, I’m going to do that. Especially for my wife’s character, especially for a character that deserves that.” Taliesin points out that if it had come too early, Beau wouldn’t have believed it.

Cad’s thoughts on the Tomb Taker betrayal? “He knew it was gonna come at some point. There was no way that was gonna last. He was hoping it was gonna last a little longer. He was really hoping they had a vested interest in getting them all the way to the end. Nope, this is apparently as far as we go, and he was not prepared for that.” He was expecting the potential for de-escalation. “Caduceus is the only character in there that doesn’t have a history with Lucien. I think he sees him a little more clearly than everybody else does. They’re all looking for this person that Clay, at least, is of the opinion that he’s just not there. This is a very manipulative, very dangerous infernal human. Just smarter than all of them. Really aware that there is no calculating what the hell is going to happen. Conversation is the only way you can deal with someone like that.”

Fan Art of the Week: An amazing Caleb closeup! (rynn_birb on Twitter)

Taliesin on Lucien: “I’m excited he’s the one that’s going to kill us all. Poetic that this is how the game ends.” Matt was delighted when Taliesin handed him carte blanche to do what he wanted with Molly’s past. “I was like ‘shit... oh, wait!’ The character of Lucien was always intended to be an antagonist so that it would have been Molly being chased by the person who wanted their body back. But then it happened that he got his body back.” Taliesin: “He’s so much worse than I ever hoped.”

Matt, on the Holy Avenger: “I hadn’t thought to initially even give that sword.” The good roll was the only reason Kima handed that over. “Well, sure, you get the sword. It was very reactionary, it wasn’t my intent originally. I was like, well, I mean, there’s two avenues she can take with this.” Multiclass into Paladin, or lean into the fact that her subclass is essentially a barbarian paladin. “This really works out in a uniquely beautiful way. Let me see if I can lay out a path for her to earn it.”

On Cad’s attempt at lying blowing up in his face: “He was like that kid that had a really bad day in high school and was like, you know what? I’m going to let loose. This is it. I’m gonna dye a streak in my hair. And then tries to give himself a haircut and ends up with half bangs. Well, okay, obviously I’m not that person. I was feeling a little distraught and I didn’t handle it well. Maybe I’m going dark... no, I’m not going dark. Nope.” Matt mentions how much he relates to Caduceus.

Matt, on the Eyes: “What can I tell you? I’m enjoying the hell out of it. The moment they began to really push to read that book, I was like, okay, this is on you. I’m excited for the point in the narrative where the march continues back to Eiselcross. I am almost impatient - not really - because we’re on the cusp of getting to more of the meat. There’s so much to learn, so much to see, so much to explore. I love instilling my players with absolute terror.”

Thoughts on Jester’s Tarot reading? Taliesin cackles. “Molly made the cards, so. Did it to himself, he did, he did.” Matt: “Once again, another example of things working out unexpectedly and too perfectly for an improvised moment. Fuck.” Taliesin: “Bless the wisdom of chaos.” Matt: “I love that even at this point in the campaign, Molly continues to fuck with people. I’m just so proud. That deeply shook Lucien, for reasons.” Taliesin: “It’s the everlasting gobstopper smoke bomb.”

[tth-pdf]

Burning for love; JJK [03]

Contents: Smut, little bit of dirty talk, supernatural themes, romance, fluff, unedited.

Pairing: Werewolf!alpha!jungkook x omega!reader

Summary: A handsome man is hunting you in the dreams world, making every day more difficult to repress the need to come find him in the middle of the night to submit yourself to his every wish.

Requests: ON

A/N: Hello angels, sorry for the LONG wait, was so busy with school and depressing myself, but here it is, I tried to do my best and please also remember that English is not my first language be kind (😩), sorry for any grammar mistake, enjoy it and take care besties! 💖

Jungkook was insatiable, he just couldn’t seem to get enough of you, he has already fuck you senseless on the kitchen counter, the sofa, the living room floor, the restroom sink, simply everywhere, but he seem to want more and more and more, he wanted so much that you could hardly believe it.

Right now you were waking up, feeling incredibly good, feeling like everything was fine, but those emotions were gone as soon as common sense started to come back to you. Yesterday, Jungkook’s hands everywhere, that incredible first orgasm, but the one who made it happen… His scent, his bright eyes, strong arms making you feel like you can do it all, but above all the interest he had in you, what makes you feel on cloud nine it’s the way he seemed to be mesmerized by your expressions and sounds, knowing right where to touch without a doubt. Almost every space in your skin was painted by the ferocity with which he seems to love you, that marks on your skin being the carnal representation of your wonderful night but insecurities started to rise right at this moment, your mother will be mad, she will yell at you that in the pack were more suitable omegas for alpha Jungkook, the nasty glances and the possibility that some of the females in the pack may try to take what is yours, damn, the mere thought of it makes your eyes turn bright red provoked by the sudden rage coursing through your body. Immediately sensing the unpleasant feelings in you Jungkook comes out of the bathroom, wet hair and drops of water running down his body, making your mouth water, so just like magic your body and inner wolf instruct you to crawl to the end of the bed and touch him, to offer yourself to him, second thoughts completely forgotten by now so you follow your instincts and touch and admire from his hard abdomen to caressing his broad shoulders and just show him that look in your eyes, the one he knows like the back of his hand consequence of all the hours spent admiring and getting to know your body.

“Little girl woke up hungry?”

A hand of his goes to your waist and the other caress your cheek and just like fire can light up the darkest place your senses explode inside of you and once again everything feels a hundred times more, all the textures around you, you can hear the sounds of children and women playing in the distance, even the steps of the smallest animal but his deep chuckle brings you to him again and you feel like melting. Even kneeling at the edge of the bed he is much taller than you, (like a shelter for the most difficult moments in life), warm and golden skin beneath your fingertips and the delicious beating of his heart calming all your nerves and insecurities.

You look right back at him with the same intensity, different shades of golden dancing in your eyes while his are different shades of deep purple, the connection between both of you more palpable than never, trying not to break the eye contact you turn your face to his nearest scent gland, which means is his wrist, basking yourself in his delicious aroma.

“I see what you are at puppy, but I’m afraid that I can only deal with you once before I leave”

His last words hit you hard making you feel like drowning and desperate from one moment to another.

“Are you leaving?, I thought that this days… Were for us”

He can see your teary eyes making him wish he had never said that, breaking his heart a little.

“Don’t be like that baby, I will make sure to end that meeting as soon as I can to come back to your arms but you will have to be a good girl and wait here”

You know he is in a hurry but you can not help but want submit to his wonderful hands and simply seduce him to have him eating out of the palm of your hand, have him only for yourself and memorize all his features.

“You promised it, you said you were going to make me a priority always, you lied to me”

You weren’t usually like this, but when he is around your common sense flies out of the window, so while you're throwing a tantrum and moving uncontrollably under his body he grows impatient and his alpha instincts kick in, putting with undeniably force both your wrists above your head and growls, the signal he’s giving you to submit, the air in the bedroom changing its way.

“Pretty girls know how to wait and to obey their alphas, I already told you I was sorry puppy and remember that I don’t fucking owe apologies to anyone, if I knew this wasn’t important I would have told them to fuck up, you should know your place baby, but good news for you, I’m feeling like even though you have been a little bit of a bad girl you deserve to remember me all over this pretty skin while I’m gone, isn’t that what my puppy wanted, huh?”

He manhandles you until you’re comfortably seated en his strong tights, holding his gaze you can see all the things he wants you to know, all that shit that cannot be said, all the things that are not expressed in a good way by putting them into words, so instead you will use your bond and body.

“Sit on my dick slow baby, make it hurt so you have something to remember, get yourself full of my pups”

And you do as you are told, you slip right where you belong to, starting to bounce yourself slow and hard but even though it feels like heaven you feel like you’re going to die because he doesn’t touch you, he is just watching.

“Touch me please or I’m going to hit you hard”

He laughs but you know he's holding back the urge to order you around.

“I love when my little girl turns all bossy”

You wiggle your hips not exactly knowing where to look but what makes you let out a loud moan of his name is the way he thrusts his incredible hips harder than you had planned, tip of his touching the spongy spot that makes you meet god in person.

“If I’m not gonna have you for a while at least show me that fierce side of you one more time baby, gods above, look at you, bouncing tits and pretty face with an even prettier voice filling my ears of pretty sounds, fuck puppy, turn around and see yourself on the mirror”

You tell him to wait a second because you want to remember him like this, beneath your body and that playful smirk but when you do turn a little your face to see the image that bites back at you is incredible, you even smile don’t exactly recognizing you but looking damn hot on top of your man. You can’t with the feelings so the first thing that comes to your mind is to grab a hold of some of his beautiful locks of hair and tug hard, enough for him to gain some more lustful rage and suddenly slam you in the mirror that both of you were looking a moment ago with such excitement, what brings you back to reality of the pleasure that does nothing but increase is the manly hand grabbing at your jaw, making it open slightly, enough for him to spit on it. And you fucking love it.

“That’s a good mate baby, swallow it all and show me”

All this time he hasn’t stopped that sinful hips of his so at this time it’s starting to hurt and you begin to loose all your grips but you now that he will catch you anyways.

All you are feeling is incredible, you fell full, satisfied. Your throat feels hoarse but it doesn’t matter as you held gazes once again, but it’s the whole moment, your own bubble. Watching his pretty eyes you realize that you have won in live, entirely.

“You don’t have a fucking idea of how bad I want to mount you everywhere until I know you are really pregnant, hell baby I love you so fucking much”

He is right in front of your face, both of your moths open but your not kissing, now he’s the one grabbing your hair into a fist but he can do whatever he wants with you right now and all you will say is thank you.

You’re both touching the finish lines and it’s then that you wonder if this is how it will always be, hot, sweaty and just incredible.

He kiss you right at the final, where both of you have reached the peak, smiling at each other like fools but entirely living the dream.

[...]

You know that Jungkook told you to not leave the room until he was back but you were really hungry and needing some fresh air, so knowing that maybe everyone was serving him in that meeting you dared to head for the nearest kitchen to just grab something and come back. You are happy when no one approach you on the way, focusing on the task to make you a quick drink and cut up some fruit.

You feel happy and complete, at ease with the environment despite missing your alpha a bit, but your clothes and body still smell like him so that’s something for now. That’s the same reason why you don’t hear the pretty and stealthy she-wolf approaching the kitchen, watching you closely.

“It stinks in here, you must have had a very good night young lady”

You jump a little because you are not supposed to see anybody in the sensitive state in which you now find yourself.

“Sorry, I wasn’t supposed to be here”

You murmured your words shyly so low that if it were not for the incredible senses of the lycanthrope body, the girl would have miss it.

She chuckles lightly and by her smell you know that she is a rare breed of a female alpha, but right now every smell its simply too much, almost unpleasant.

“No worries baby, no one else is here but me”

She is a little intimidating to be honest and It’s evident that she knows clearly what to do to get what she wants.

“I should… Probably go”

You try to rush towards the exit in order to feel protected inside the four walls where everything smells like Jungkook but just as you are about to walk through the door the pretty girl grabs you a little hard enough to make you let out a whimper. And it’s that exact moment that lets you know that something is awfully wrong, that you should have never left the room.

“Where are you going?, let me talk to you for a moment, I never had the pleasure of knowing you formally”

You know that she can her your heart beating uncontrollably and smell the fear mixed with nerves.

“Don’t be scared pretty thing just wanted to chat with you”

There’s something strange in her, something that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“This shouldn’t be happening, I’m sorry but I really should get back to-”

While interrupting you she is also forcing you to sit on the small benches that are situated in the kitchen only to bring you to a full state of discomfort and nervousness.

“Is Jungkook really into you honey?”

The sudden questions makes you blink twice and hold a breath, this seems like a pointless conversation, she didn’t even try to do some more small talk .

“Pardon…?”

“Oh my, was I too direct?”

You still don’t see the clarity of the conversation because to your eyes she looks like a lunatic, asking questions about of nowhere.

“Honey, it’s just… Have you never heard what is whispered around the pack, about him and the pretty girl of the Kim pack or even worse… The boy with the deadly beauty from the Park family”

You do have heard the rumors, they were too strong when you were younger and more naive.

“I’m afraid that… I can’t help you with anything, I should really go…”

She puts his body in front of yours so that both of her arms are locked on the wall behind you, blocking any way out.

“Damn, just listen to me for a fucking second, I thought that you knew what was best for you”

You sit still because her harsh words came out more like an alpha command and you just couldn’t fight your true nature.

“Good girl”

You would never imagined that such a mundane phrase would disgust you so much.

“I know you don’t like me wolfie but I have been very well aware of the second thoughts that run at full speed in your little head about the bond that you share with that man”

if you had one wish, you would ask to disappear from this awful situation, if only you had listened to your alpha…

“I don’t understand what you want from me, please just let me go, I’m not going to tell Jungkook”

The female alpha just laughs a little, like you have said to her the funniest thing ever.

“He and I are at the same rank honey and of course you will not tell him anything, I have something that might interest you.”

Your posture is defensive but when she says that she backs a little and you take the opportunity to relax only little bit, a new look of curiosity in your angelic and innocent features.

“I don’t want to upset you honey but look at yourself for a second and tell me if you see yourself as the perfect representation of a good mate for someone like him”

She can easily see the insecurity cross your features because if anything has been bothering you since you found out about the bond it is that.

“I have the perfect solution to all of your concerns baby, there’s someone far more suited to take your place. Look at your neck, he hasn’t even marked you, but really, don’t worry and don’t overthink it, he will be in good hands. I know someone who can make the arrangements, all safe and of course you will be having a far more suited alpha”

It’s really stupid, but you actually think about it, as if all the previous moments with him didn't matter. At the end of the day all you're looking for is his well-being and happiness, isn't it?

People are going to talk, that's for sure, but you could assure him better commentaries and a better future, even if it's not by your side, but what will happen with the few moments that both of you have shared?

“In case you were wondering… No, you will not remember, everything will be gone as soon as the bond is broken. Just think about it for a second, remember all your insecurities and the bad feelings while being his mate, that must be annoying, let yourself be happy, both of you”

You are deep in your thoughts so you miss the way her canines grow in size and that dangerous gleam in her eyes.

“I… I’ll do it”

Call yourself a fool, but that tempting offer was enough for you to maybe, just maybe get yourself a better life, but above all a better life and opportunities for him… Or at least that was what your insecure brain thought.

Tag list: @min-nicoleee, @in-a-way-that-i-should-not, @imluckybitches, @teresaisla, @anachikartadze, @jeonwiixard, @seagulljjk

Nexts update: ?

All rights reserved.

[amjustagirl]

Hogwarts AU (Haikyuu!!)

Previously: Miya Atsumu. Miya Osamu. Kita Shinsuke. Kuroo Tetsuro. Tsukkishima Kei.  Bokuto Koutaro

Masterlist link

Wordcount: 2.5k

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff

Genre / Pairings: Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Sakusa / Reader

Summary: You’re invited to Kiyoko’s seventeenth birthday party, which turns out to be a ball for the glittering elite of the magical world, where you meet one very surly, very sulky Sakusa Kiyoomi.

A/N: Comments as always, are much welcomed. Feel free to shout at me anytime!

Requests closed for the time being!

Though if you toss a suggestion my way that I like, I may...reconsider ;)

Requested by Yeon baobei @moondaius​ I hope you like it, darling <3

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

You feel out of place in this party filled with the glittering elite of magical society. Your sleeves do not quite reach down to your wrists, and the ruffles on the neckline of your dress robes are a little limp, but you’ve had to make do with the rejected pile of clothes from your more affluent cousins. It’s not often you get invited to formal dinner parties anyway. Your home is a tiny attic flat on the cross junction between Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, and your mother is just a humble cleaning lady, so this soiree is just an exception - your classmate Kiyoko being exceptionally kind and inviting you to her seventeenth birthday party. 

“Look! Isn’t that Sakusa Kiyoomi? Isn’t he handsome?” You can hear the girls around you sigh dreamily to their friends as said boy enters the ballroom with his cousin Komori in tow. 

The Ravenclaw seeker elicits this sort of reaction even in school - or especially in school, but you’ve never joined his legion of fans, his overall grumpiness acting as a deterrent to you ever speaking to him despite sharing multiple classes together. Still, he is handsome, you admit to yourself. Towering over most of the party guests, Sakusa Kiyoomi has artfully tousled black curls, cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and the most adorable pair of moles above his right eyebrow. 

“Komori!” You wave, grinning with affection as the affable Ravenclaw keeper bounds over towards you like an overgrown puppy. 

“It’s so nice to see you here!” He greets you with his usual cheer. “These parties can be a drag if you don’t know anyone.”

“It is a little overwhelming”, you admit, side-eyeing the chandeliers hanging from the arched ceiling, dripping in crystals and wrought with gold. You’re sure that if you managed to sneak just one chandelier in your pocket, it’d be enough to feed you and your mother for an entire year. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have fun tonight!” Komori promises with a chuckle. Then he snaps his head back, realising he’s left his cousin stranded in a crowd of fawning women - a fate that Sakusa Kiyoomi obviously deems worse than death judging from the way he glowers down at his shoes as if they’ve offended him in some way. 

“You better rescue him”, you add, internally amused as Yuna-san from Slytherin slides her talons up Sakusa’s arms. “Five minutes in, and he already seems like a damsel in distress.”

Komori answers you with a lopsided grin as he swims through the crowd to reach his cousin drowning in his worst nightmare. You snort to yourself, helping yourself to a generous amount of punch, watching as Komori manages to extract Sakusa while charming the ladies into not sulking too much at the loss of their prey. Sakusa promptly disappears once he’s free from the quicksand of social interaction, while Komori himself gets claimed for the first dance of the night. 

You have fun too - well, somewhat. You stand along the sides of the ballroom like an overgrown wallflower, watching as your peers in brightly coloured dresses get asked for dances while you’re passed over with a glance at your ill-fitting dress. But Komori does swing by and dances a foxtrot with you - both of you trip over the other at one point, causing a small commotion in the corner of the ballroom, but it’s all in good fun. Even Kiyoko takes the time to pop by and say hi, even though she’s swamped with well-wishers and familial obligations.  

You don’t regret coming to the party at all. 

“Omi, be social for once.” It’s only because your ears are sharp that you overhear Komori urge his cousin out from his hiding spot behind the dessert table. “You’ve been hiding from everyone the entire night, and you haven’t even danced once!” 

“I don’t like people.” Sakusa grounds out through clenched teeth. “And I don’t dance”. 

“Don’t be a grump. There are perfectly nice people here - look, I have a friend here who’d be perfect for a dance”. 

You look up, meeting his eyes as he grins apologetically at you. You’re about to mouth ‘hell no’ at the irrepressible Komori, but Sakusa beats you to it in his characteristically blunt fashion. 

“She’s tolerable enough I suppose, but I’m not inclined to be a knight in shining armour and dance with someone just because no one else will”. 

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. 

Komori looks like he’s about to push Sakusa into the birthday cake, but thinks the better of it. “Omi”, he hisses in warning. 

Sakusa glances up, guilt flooding his eyes when he meets your gaze, but you don’t give him a chance to redeem himself, flouncing away in a swirl of faded satin. You brazenly seek out dance partners for yourself - Kuroo from Slytherin might seem smarmy, but he smirks at you in recognition and twirls you around in a merry square dance and Akaashi from Ravenclaw looks like he’d much rather bury his nose in a book but he’s gentlemanly enough to let you take his hand for a stately waltz. 

You’re in the middle of another waltz, this time with sunny Bokuto from Hufflepuff when you spot Sakusa squirming from the corner of your eye. Yuna (Slytherin, seventh year, pureblooded of course) has him cornered, back against the wall, and there’s no Komori in sight to save him – nor anyone really, almost everyone else is enjoying themselves on the dance floor. 

You sigh inwardly. Sakusa might be cold and cranky but even he deserves to be rescued from Yuna’s clutches, so you maneuver Bokuto towards in their direction. Bokuto, to his credit, catches on immediately, and with a spark of mischief in his eyes, he grabs a glass of punch and tips it over both Sakusa and Yuna. 

“You idiot!?!” Yuna shrieks, horrified as the bright red liquid stains the front of her robes. “These robes were specially tailored for me in Paris you know?”

You didn’t know that, and frankly – you couldn’t care less about the cost of her fancy robes, and with a murmured – I’ll help Sakusa clean up, you grab said boy by his sleeve and manhandle him out of the ballroom. Thankfully she’s so distracted that she doesn’t pick up on the fact that you’re both seventh years now, so there’s really no need for you to rush to the washroom since it’s completely legal for you to be using magic to clean Sakusa up. You leave Bokuto in your wake to deal with an irate Yuna, but he’s grinning nonetheless, telling her that his cleaning charms are awesome, does she want him to try fixing her dress? Akaashi and Kuroo join the commotion, and in the diversion they cause, no one notices your escape.

You tug him down a deserted hallway, relinquishing your grip on him only when you find an appropriate hiding place – an open air balcony, where no one is likely to stumble on you. ‘Turgeo’, you whisper, whipping out your wand, nodding in satisfaction as the charm siphons punch off Sakusa’s robes. 

“You can catch your breath here for a bit”, you tell him, hopping up to take a precarious seat on the balcony railing. His brows pinch together, and you watch, bemused as he tries to make sense of what just transpired.

“Tha-“ 

Taking pity on him, you interrupt him. “You don’t have to thank me. I came to your rescue cos you’re tolerable, even though you’re always grumpy. Plus, I’m a Gryffindor, so being a knight in shining armour comes naturally to me”. 

Your amusement grows as he splutters at having his ill mannered words quoted back at him, embarrassment burning into his cheeks. It’s fun to throw calm, collected Sakusa Kiyoomi off balance sometimes, you think – and perhaps given his privileged, pureblood background, he probably needs it every once in a while. But then you’re surprised when he gathers himself and inclines his head ever so slightly. 

“That was…inexcusable of me to speak of you that way. I apologise.” 

 “It’s fine”, you reply easily, but he doesn’t allow you to shrug his apology off. 

“It’s not. I was rude and unkind.” 

This is the most you’ve ever heard Sakusa Kiyoomi say, and you want to capitalise on it. 

“I know how you can remedy that”, you interject with a smile. 

He quirks his eyebrows in confusion, watching you warily. You’re tempted to drag out the suspense to watch him squirm, but you don’t want to torture the poor boy any further. 

“You can pay me back by giving me the dance you so cruelly refused me”, you tell him, jumping down onto your feet. Then with the most unladylike laugh, you sweep into an exaggerated bow, holding your hand out to him - 

“My good sir, if you please?” 

He stares down at your proffered hand. “Here? Now?” 

“You have another time in mind?” You ask sarcastically, back still bent in a bow. “Come on, your mother probably brought you up better than this, don’t keep a girl waiting forever.”

“Fine, fine”, he mumbles. So as the string orchestra in the ballroom strikes up another tune yet again, he takes your hand, and wrapping his arm around your waist, he leads you in a waltz. 

Step step twirl. 

One two three. 

Step step twirl. 

He’s the ideal dance partner, expertly steering you through the one-two-three of the melody, never once making a misstep – though he does wince when you tread on his toes once too many times. 

“You’re surprisingly good at dancing, for a misanthrope”, you comment.

“My mother made me learn”, he replies, ignoring the hidden barb in your remark. “It’s a waste of time, but I guess now that I keep getting invites for balls, it’s useful knowledge so I don’t make a fool of myself when I get forced to dance.”

“Like now?” You chuckle self-deprecatingly. 

He doesn’t reply for a few beats and you assume the conversation is over when he replies – 

“Not like now. It - this is nice.” 

It’s summer, and while the cool night still nips at your skin, warmth inexplicably suffuses your cheeks. You thought you were just having a laugh, it’s only now that you realise that the situation you’ve put yourself in with Sakusa is practically lifted out of a fairytale – a boy and a girl, hiding in a balcony, waltzing under the stars? The only thing missing is maybe a shooting star falling from the skies, or a lost glass slipper or two. 

Your train of thought is interrupted when the song ends, and he surprises you yet again when he does not drop your hand. 

“Would my lady wish to dance with me again”, he asks, though there’s a glimmer of playfulness in his eyes that belies his formal tone. 

You ignore every fiber of your being screaming at you that dancing with him again is going to be terrible for your heart, dropping into a low curtsy. 

“Why, I thought you’d never ask”, you simper in a poor imitation of Yuna and her toadies, and he only snorts, sweeping you into his arms, intent on dancing the night away. 

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

“The two of you have been gone the entire night”, Komori comments, a faint accusatory tone colouring his words. “I was about to organise a search party.”

“I was just helping Sakusa clean up after a mishap with a glass of punch”, you reply, though your lie is punctured by the wince you give when your shoes pinch your feet – a sign that you’ve danced far, far too much on this magical night. 

“Is that so?” Komori directs his question to his stoic cousin. 

Sakusa doesn’t even bother to reply, palm warm against the small of your back as he ushers you off to his flying carriage, intent on sending you safely home. 

Your mother’s jaw drops when she wakes up to Sakusa’s carriage thunder down your street, a fleet of winged white horses dragging an enchanted golden carriage. You feel like Cinderella as he escorts you to the front door, pressing a courtly kiss to the back of your hand when he wishes you goodnight. That is, if Cinderella snagged her Prince Charming on the first night they met -  by accident, no less. 

Your jaw drops when you wake up the next morning to a delivery from an imperial looking snow owl, and when you tear open the parcel, your hands shake so much you have to sit down. That ridiculous boy sent you dress robes of pearl white tulle, along with an invitation to his seventeenth birthday party, to be held in two weeks. 

And the most staggering of all – the parcel also includes your dance card, Sakusa’s name neatly written in it to claim ayour dances for the night. 

Every single dance of the night. 

“Impertinent fellow”, you mutter to yourself, though you can’t help but fall back onto your bed, giggling like a loon. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi is an enigma, a boy shielding his true self from the world by cocooning himself in layers of unfriendliness and grumpiness. But in the short amount of time you’ve spent with him, you’ve discovered that he isn’t as cold or unfeeling as he makes himself out to be. You unearthed his sharp sense of humour when he started dropping barbs about preening party guests, telling you the dirty secrets of each pureblooded family gathered here tonight. 

“She did what?” you gasped. “No way.”

‘Believe it”, he smirked. “She later tried marrying her daughter off to me, but my parents refused”. 

And over the course of the night, you start to see shades of his softer side. He surprised you when he apologised over and over again for not dancing with you the first time, saying he hadn’t realised that you were being overlooked because almost everyone in attendance were snobs. 

“It’s the dress”, you told him cheekily, tugging at the cheap fabric. “Otherwise everyone around here would be falling for my sparkling personality”. 

He couldn’t help but snort at that. 

Then he started to tell you about himself. You learn that he wants to go pro not because he has a burning passion for Quidditch, but rather because it’s something he’s put so much effort into that he might as well continue doing it into adulthood. You learn that despite his complaints about the Ravenclaw team - seemingly sweet Suga and the troublesome beaters Makki and Mattsun in particular driving him insane with their relentless ribbing and puns and jokes, he’s grown fond of them. 

He’s funny and witty and sentimental and smart. You truly enjoyed his company last night. 

You can’t wait to see him again. 

Neither can Sakusa, so it seems. He’s on your doorstep before noon, a bouquet of roses and a bashful expression on his face. 

“A gentleman caller”, you pretend to swoon as you open the door. “Happy day!” 

“I hope I’m the only one”, he retorts, all shyness evaporating immediately, a glint of amusement in his dark eyes. 

“So far you are”, you tease, nose buried in rosebuds. “Fair warning before you sweep me off my feet though - I’m not going to be one of your typical, pureblooded heiresses who’ll titter at every word you say, just cos you’re Sakusa Kiyoomi”. 

He actually chuckles at that. “I’m counting on that”, he says, taking your hand. 

You both share a shy smile.  

[saphirered]

I’m in love with your writing and binged your entire page one night lol

Could I request a story with Caleb where the M9 find a wounded reader on the run from people who want to use her for her very powerful magical abilities. She doesn’t trust Caleb at first because he’s a wizard and just as she opens up to him and starts to develop feelings discovers he has been studying her powers - thought with no bad intentions. Some good old angsty enemies to lovers type of beat. Preferably with a good ending but do what you wish ;))

Apparently I'm giving you more stuff to binge as this is looking more and more like a several parter 😅. Prepare for loads of angst and conflict and some good hurt/comfort to come but for now, here comes part 1! 😘

Nobody pays attention to a vagrant dressed in rags, looking about a week past their last proper bath begging on the side of the road for money or standing by a shop, mouth watering at the food. Nobody pays attention to what they don’t want to see in their pristine cities. Not unless they want to chase you away because you’re in their way or you’re tarnishing their image. Speaking about image, sometimes some rich folk will take pity upon you, casting a coin your way to make themselves look good and generous in the eyes of others.

That’s exactly what you became when you needed to disappear. You needed to become unseen, unnoticed and a shadow among a crowd. You succeed casting away all remainders of your previous life because in the end, your life is worth more to you than your earthly possessions. Survival above all. You’ll live this way until you can get somewhere where no one will question you, or where you’ll be under the protection of others, far away where your enemies cannot reach you. Maybe Vasselheim is a good place to go? They’re not fond of the arcane magics. Sure you’ll have to give up using some of your own gifts but it’s worth being able to live your life freely.

You’re still a ways away from Vasselheim and you don’t have the funds to get there yet. Even if you make it to a port, stowing away on a ship is fine but you can’t trust them to not throw you overboard or leave you stranded at the nearest island to save provisions. And that’s if they don’t hand you over to any authorities and risk you getting back to square one. You’ll have to wander around Wildemount until you’re able to book passage or find somewhere to lay low, forever on the move. It’s not the worst and you get used to it pretty quickly.

Weren’t you lucky when you saw the recent champions of the Victory Pit were strolling around town flaunting their winnings. You need food. You need warm clothes. And most of all, you could do with some extra change in your pocket. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to steal all of it of course. Just enough to get by and they wouldn’t notice. So you trail them, sticking to the shadows. They don’t seem to notice you.

Then you struck. You got the coin pouch from the ostentatious one. It was child’s play really. He didn’t even notice you lifting the pouch from his belt when you brushed against his shoulder muttering an apology. You were already amidst the crowd when you heard the tiefling exclaim his coin pouch was gone and he put two and two together quickly, the charlatan he is so before you knew it they were on the lookout for someone fitting your description. You had to move quick, buy your necessities and get out of the market. You know just the place to hide out; the Evening Nip. Nobody asks questions there.

Once you found yourself safely sipping on the shitty ale served at the Evening Nip you didn’t expect the colourful group of strangers to stroll in. It was already too late when you spotted them and you had no where to go. Still your quickly gathered up the coin back into the ornate velvet pouch and put it in your own pocket hidden beneath the layers of your clothes putting your hands behind your back as you tried to make a break for the exit. They did not let you pass, a relatively buff looking woman gripping the handle of her sword stepping in front of you while another one, though shorter blocked your escape by interposing her staff.

“No funny business, friend. You have something that belongs to my companion here, and he wants it back.” The half-orc speaks as you grit your teeth. You’d really hoped to avoid this but you weren’t stupid enough to bring out the big artillery… yet… so you lift your hands in surrender and allow them to lead you over to one of the tables taking a seat of your own accord while you’re flanked by the buff woman on one side, the purple tiefling on the other and the rest of them takes up seating of their own around the table keeping an eye on you.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way…” The half-orc leads as the tiefling next to you holds out his hand brushing his other over your shoulder in a soft push, mimicking what you had done when you pickpocketed him. Are they mocking you? Bastards.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about, friend.” You speak innocently. You know they won’t buy it anyway, their minds already made up, but it gives you just a second more to get a grasp on all of them. You’re already plotting your escape, despite the odds being turned against you. You have to try.

“Oh, I think you do, and we simply want a conversation. You wouldn’t want to tarnish this new friendship now would you?” The tiefling grins as you look at him. You can feel the strings of enchantment pricking into your mind but you know how this works. You’ll just have to play along. You smile, like being faced with an old friend, just as the spell would have you have, letting your defensive mannerism fade.

“You’re quite right. It’s no way to treat new friends. Let’s not get off on the wrong foot.” You glance between all of them and you feel a pair of blue eyes stare into you, right through you. There’s just something about him that doesn’t add up and you’re almost afraid he knows you’re not under the tiefling’s spell after all but you do whatever you can to not show that on your face and play along.

“Should we get some drinks to commemorate new friends?” You suggest about to get up but the woman in blue’s staff moves across the table right onto your shoulder urging you to stay in place. You don’t look fazed and merely amused with this action as if it is a harmless joke and not a threat. The tiefling moves the staff from your shoulder as you turn your attention back to him as he smiles.

“I think that’s an absolutely wonderful idea. Drinks on me.” He stands with you and begins leading you over to the bar. Clive takes the order and begins pouring the ale as requested while the tiefling keeps conversation with you, completely oblivious and detached from his friends. You play along and when you reach to the coin pouch, you pull out the coins owed to the barkeep. The tiefling smiles and you can see from your peripheral the red head notices too. Both confirm you have the coin pouch. So once you pay you reach for your pocket grasping for a short iron rod placing it in your hand, whispering words under your breath as the tiefling talks to the barkeep, your hands begin to move according to the familiar motions and before the redhead can warn his lavender companion, the tiefling is frozen in place unable to move and you’re making a break for the door.

Spells fly left and right and you dodge a few, take the damage from others as the fighters dependant on close range rush for you. A crossbow bolt hits your thigh and a large cat’s claw appears in front of you. You try to dodge it reaching for you but it catches you and holds you in place despite your struggling to get free. They circle you, bind your hands, take back the coin pouch and your own limited belongings from you as you fight back trying to keep them away from you but you’re just alone and they are the many.

You feel helpless and desperate. That’s when you make eye contact with the blue eyed wizard. There’s a look of recognition in his eyes. Not for who you are directly, but the way you’re acting and lashing out, like some caged animal wishing desperately to be free, like a creature on the run, like you’re two sides of the same coin. His eyes reveal to you pain and suffering and pity but you don’t need his pity. You don’t need anyone’s pity.

“Why did you steal that coin?” The wizard asks as you glare at him from your seated position on the ground.

“Why does anybody steal anything? I’m hungry. I’m cold and I’m broke as hell.” You spit none too kindly.

“Then get a job. Make some money. Or at least learn to be a good thief.” The rude woman snorts. You roll your eyes. Typical. You know plenty of people like her, maybe you even used to be like her but not anymore. You grew out of that the hard way. She will too, in time.

“None of you noticed until you went to pay for something.” You grin and the woman is about to lunge for you at your provocation. So easy to piss that one off. Funny, actually.

“I don’t think she can just get a job. Not a regular one anyway.” The wizard observes as he stares into you. “You don’t have anywhere to go, do you?” Your silence, biting your lip says enough. You don’t have anywhere to go. Once you did but that’s gone. Torn away from you.

“How about this? You spent a good deal of my friend’s coin but we’ll give you the opportunity to make it back as a repayment. Stick around for a little bit and go our separate ways when the debt is repaid?” There’s some protests but the half-orc quiets them down when the wizard speaks up in your favour. He doesn’t trust you, not after the stunts you just pulled, especially not when the look on your face mirrors his own so closely but perhaps it’s something within him that calls to him to make right a wrong, or prevent another soul to be lost to the troubles he’s faced.

With these idiots bound to make a scene they’ll call attention to themselves and by default that means away from you. This might work in your favour. They’re adventurers and given that they seem somewhat familiar with the Evening Nip, you can only assume they’re not exactly always on the right side of the law. You’re not judging but that gives you some safety and assurance should things go south or you need a quick way out. And if things really do turn in your favour, they’ll be your cover to places and funds to get you far far away from this hell hole.

“Looks like you got yourselves a new companion then, friends.” You don’t smile, only displaying an expression so neutral that makes the wizard think for a second he might have made a mistake but for now you have mutual interests and if there’s anything he can count on, it’s the reliability of a common goal, and a lot to lose should you get outed.

So next you know, you’re somewhat absorbed into their little group, learning their names and where they’re from, chatting happily but you can’t help but notice that yours and Caleb’s stories are similar in some ways, mostly the lack of detail. You’ve been raised within the Empire, but found yourself on a less fortunate path fending for yourself. The only difference between you and him is that he found Nott on his path while you had remained alone. The group didn’t seem to mind your lack of details, going with the excuse you’re not about to bare your life story to the people you only just met and you’re lucky. You hadn’t told anyone what happened since you’ve been on the run and you don’t plan on doing so anytime soon, especially not to people who haven’t earned your trust yet.

Of course you’ve been roomed with Caleb and Nott, finding yourself in one of the most expensive inns in the city, paid for by the group. Unlike Nott, who goes through your stuff when she thinks you’re not looking, Caleb is the perfect roommate. He doesn’t cross any boundaries, ask too many questions or has any annoying habits. He just reclines on his bed, going through his spellbook, transcribing new spells to add to his own collection. Every time he does you get extremely uneasy and snappy and do whatever you can to not be in the same space as the wizard. It doesn’t do your roommate relationship any good and may leave you at odds at times. Caleb may not understand why but it’s not his place to ask questions, nor does he think you’ll actually answer them. Instead you make up excuses, helping Beau with training, letting Jester braid your hair, keeping Fjord company while Molly claims their room for one of his escapades, getting some booze for Nott, or when Yasha is there, watch the storms with the woman, anything to get you out of that shared room with the wizard.

————

Rain hits the window of your room in the Pillow Trove as the redheaded wizard strolls in throwing his backpack on his bed and sitting down with a deep sigh. You look up over the edge of the book you’re reading seeing the wizard soaked through the bone wringing out his hair best he can. With a wave of your hand and words uttered under your breath you grin as the water evaporates from Caleb’s form, leaving his hair slightly more curly and frizzy, and his clothes warm and comfy. He gives you a look as you continue reading as if you’re completely unaware of anything going on in the room, completely absorbed into your book. Ignoring Caleb.

“I didn’t take you for the type that reads smutty romance novels.” He comments and gestures towards Courting of the Crick. You finally look at Caleb as if he only just gained your attention, as if you’re only just aware of his presence in the room. Both of you know better but this is how it is.

“You wouldn’t. But according to Jester you enjoy them very much.” You grin, having gotten to hear all about their little trip to the Chastity’s Nook. Caleb gives you a disapproving look as he begins to unpack his things, taking out the fresh ink and paper, setting out his spellbook and you mark your page, putting the book on your side table as you quickly get up and go for the door.

“Where are you off to all of the sudden?” Caleb asks as you grit your teeth. Can he not just leave you alone? Does he really trust you so little you’re not allowed to leave of your own accord?

“I’m going to see Jester and Beau in their room. Now I will bid you good day unless you think I need an escort for the room two doors down.” You snap. Okay, that may have been unnecessary. You could have at least been neutral. Too late for that now. Caleb waves his and as if dismissing you. Act like a child, get treated like a child. So you leave the room letting the door fall closed a little harder than you normally would in protest and make your way over towards Beau and Jester’s room.

Jester, happily lets you in and while Beau has definitely warmed up to you, things are still rocky. She wouldn’t go as far as calling you a friend, but more that one neighbourhood kid her parents tried to get her to play with despite the two of you never really having been friends at all. At least you can bond over your slightly criminal tendencies. It’s Jester who’s completely accepted you as one of her own, questioning you about anything and everything, preaching to you about the Traveler, gushing about her romance novels, specifically Oskar, which you’re pretty sure is actually reflecting her major crush on Fjord but let the girl dream. Who knows what will come of it?

[samstree]

The One with the Coastal Customs

Geraskier, 1.8k, Fluff, Crack, Secret Relationship, Kaer Morons at their best, humor, Jaskier takes one for the team

Inspired by Friends. Read on AO3

Breakfast at Kaer Morhen is full of chatter as always. With Ciri and Yennefer joining them a few days ago, loud arguing and laughter always fill those once empty halls.

Jaskier picks at the rye bread on his plate, not paying attention to Lambert’s clearly exaggerated monster story, though Ciri seems completely entranced, prompting him to go on with anticipation.

His mind is still full of last night’s visage of Geralt pressing him against the wooden door and kissing him senseless. The witcher had to come to his bedroom after everyone else turned in so no one noticed. After the whole mountain incident last year and Geralt’s following apology, they thought it wise to keep their blooming relationship in secret for a while.

Let’s not tell everyone in a rush. Geralt was the one who proposed the secrecy. Whatever we have here is ours, Jask. I don’t want them to interfere or mess it up. You are too important to me, He said. Besides, what could go wrong?

Jaskier, at the time, agreed to it whole-heartedly. The witcher was so sincere that day, his golden eyes flowing with adoration and vulnerability that Jaskier could not deny him anything.

Despite some inconveniences, Jaskier has to admit it does make things excitingly hot. He almost feels like a naughty student sneaking out of class to make out with a lover again.

Jaskier’s hand comes up to touch the skin on his neck, the same spot where Geralt nibbed and sucked gently last night and left him a sobbing mess. Next to him, Geralt catches his motion with a look before a faint smile quirks up the corner of his mouth.

“Grape juice?” the witcher passes him the pitcher with the most unaffected tone in the world but his other hand travels up Jaskier’s thigh teasingly.

He has to choke in a gasp.

“…and bam! The third wyvern drops dead.” Lambert ends the story proudly, “And that’s why I’m the best witcher at this table. You have a lot to learn from me, princess.”

Ciri giggles as Geralt and Eskel chime in to call out all the lies in that tale. The room erupts in jabs and loud arguments.

Yennefer is the only one who remains silent throughout the whole meal. Her violet gaze only falls on Jaskier once, piercing with intent, before looking away like nothing happened. Even though their exchanges are a lot more amicable these days, the sorceress tends not to acknowledge Jaskier’s existence very often.

From the corner of his eyes, Jaskier sees Vesemir leave for the library. The older witcher still has work for him to finish today.

“Right, duty calls.” With a screech of chair, Jaskier stands so he can leave too. “I’ll see you later.”

He rests his hand on Geralt’s shoulder and leans in for a kiss. Geralt’s lips taste like the sweetness of grape juice and Jaskier revels in it for a moment before pulling away.

Everyone at the table is staring at him.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Jaskier freezes on the spot, a million thoughts going through his mind. Is it time to announce it to the world? They are ready for everyone to know and get involved, aren’t they?

But with one look at Geralt, he abandons the thought. The witcher has gone pale, and stiff as a statue. Panic starts to creep into those beautiful honey eyes, so subtly anyone else would have missed it.

Geralt is not ready.

Jaskier swallows. Well, there’s nothing to it.

He turns to Eskel, who’s holding a spoon mid-air and studying him with confused surprise.

“Eskel. See you later too.” He cups the older witcher’s jaw and presses their lips together. Eskel, the sweet man, even holds on to his wrist by reflex. He ends it with a pop before going around the table, careful not to trip over a chair.

Lambert can only be described as dumbfounded when Jaskier leans in, and incredulous afterwards.

“Have a nice day, Lamb.”

Yennefer looks at him with the same scrutiny. Wait, why is she looking smug? Fuck, the mage is looking scarier than the day they met. This one he might regret the most later.

“My favorite witch. It’s so good to have you here.” Jaskier opens his arms dramatically before going in, the familiar lilac and gooseberries filling his senses. Oh, her lips are so much softer.

When he stands to straighten his doublet, the whole table is still looking at him in silence. Geralt is tense as a statue while Lambert’s mouth hangs slightly open.

“Right.” He pats Ciri on the back and runs away from the scene, keeping his footsteps as steady as possible.

 *

Ciri is the first one to break the silence.

“What the hell just happened?”

“Language.” Yennefer berates her, seemingly unfazed.

Geralt swallows a lump. If Jaskier is willing to go such length to keep the promise, he can try to look inconspicuous for a moment.

A blush is creeping up on Lambert’s face, but he tries to hide it with biting words. “Geralt, what the fuck is wrong with you bard?”

“Watch your language too.” Eskel’s voice is steady with amusement. “Why do you mind it so much anyway? He’s being friendly. It was nice.”

If Eskel wipes his lips casually with a pleased look, nobody mentions it.

“In what world is that friendly?” Lambert scowls.

“It’s –” Geralt clears his throat, “He went to the coast last year. In the south. Must have picked up some local customs. That’s…um…how they greet each other. In the south.”

Lambert stares at him. “Doesn’t feel southern to me.”

Geralt gulps down all the juice in his cup. When he puts it down, Yennefer is studying him like a predator might a prey.

“Interesting custom.” Her violet eyes sparkle with curiosity.

Geralt has never been more grateful for his witcher trials for allowing him to remain calm under extreme pressure. His heart still beats slowly without revealing anything.

They are fine as long as it doesn’t happen again.

 *

It happens again.

Jaskier sucks at Geralt’s lips with heated passion, drawing a soft moan out of the witcher. Neither of them pays any attention to the flurries of snow falling into the empty courtyard around them.

“I’ve missed you today.” He moves down to Geralt’s jawline, and then his neck. “Where’d you go?”

“Had to repair the wall at the back, or the whole keep crumbles.”

“Hmm. Should have let it.”

Jaskier captures those lips again just when he hears people entering the courtyard, and pushes Geralt away with force.

It’s too late.

Eskel and Lambert stare quizzically at Jaskier, their training swords in hand. Behind him, Ciri is also in full gears, ready for lessons. The way she tilts her head in bewilderment is such a spitting image of her dad.

“Well.” Jaskier pats Geralt on the bicep. “Thanks for helping me clean the stable. That’s…nice of you.”

Roach snorts in the stable behind them.

He walks towards Eskel and kisses him again, and then Lambert. Boy he’s just noticing how tall the younger witcher is. Jaskier has to tiptoe a little bit. “I’ll be off then.”

When he passes Ciri, the girl just moves out of the way like he’s the plague. “See you, uncle Jask!”

Jaskier nods at her, carrying himself as naturally as possible, and enters the building.

 *

The gwent is going great. It seems that Geralt is going to win again.

Jaskier yawns. He’ll never see the appeal of the game, so he just reaches over Lambert to grab the lute. Maybe a little practice will be good–

“Okay, bard. You need to cut it off.” Lambert stops Jaskier’s motion with a hand on his chest.

Jaskier blinks.

“I don’t care whatever–” Lambert gestures around Jaskier’s whole being. “– coastal customs you picked up from the south. It’s not…how we do things around here. We are not in the south and it’s fucking weird. So quit it.”

“Okay?” He blinks again.

“I know you like witchers more than the average man out there,” Eskel adds, “and you want to show us. I appreciate it, Jaskier, but it might not make us the most comfortable.”

“What now?” Jaskier looks around the room. Yennefer and Ciri are sitting by the fire with some magic book spread out between their knees, watching the situation unfold.

“Quit the kissing, bard.” Lambert scowls.

Eskel smiles politely. “Yeah, it’s best if you did.”

Oh.

Jaskier can see the two witchers are clearly not at ease. Lambert’s face is a ripe tomato and Eskel is acting way too formal with all the niceties.

“Okay. Of course.” Jaskier raises his hands in defeat. “I will stop assaulting you with the overly familiar foreign customs. Message received.”

“Thank the gods. It was disgusting.” Geralt deadpans.

Jaskier looks into those golden eyes he loves so much and wonders if he can express ‘I’m gonna put a pillow over your face tonight’ with a neural glare. The bastard only raises an eyebrow in challenge.

“If you do need to let it out somehow, Jaskier, maybe your friends at that fancy academy of yours are open to it.” Yennefer says, chill as the winter sky, “Or some of your lovers.”

Maybe Jaskier’s eyes are deceiving him, but he swears the sorceress glanced in Geralt’s direction when she said ‘lovers’.

The ladies resume their discussion about spells and magic, and the gwent game continues. Geralt does end up winning.

Jaskier plucks his lute, imagining a million ways for his witcher to make it up to him later.

Oh the sacrifices he has to make for this ridiculous man.

 *

“The sacrifices I have to make for you, my dear.” Jaskier rests his head on Geralt’s shoulder, cuddling up to his witcher’s warm body.

“What sacrifice? I thought you were enjoying it.”

“They are quite good kissers though, especially–” He cuts himself off. It’s best not to discuss your lover’s brothers that way, or ex-lover, for that matter.

“Then what are you moaning about?”

“But my reputation!” Jaskier protests, “My name will be tarnished forever. Jaskier – barker and molester of witchers. None of you will ever let me sing your heroism anymore.”

“Hmm. Don’t you forget about Yen.” Geralt’s voice rumbles deep in his chest.

“Oh yeah. I’m surprised she didn’t turn me into a toad on the spot.” He plays with Geralt’s long hair. “By the way – I just have this inking – do you think, perhaps, Yennefer might know? About us?”

“Oh she knows.”

Jaskier bolts upright, looking at Geralt incredulously.

“Since when?”

“The day she arrived?” Geralt guesses, “I’m sure she took one look at us and figured it out. It’s not my fault she’s so smart–”

Jaskier picks up a pillow and throws it at Geralt’s smug face.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Geralt finally breaks out laughing. He catches the bard’s feral attack and pins him into the mattress. Jaskier’s angry little pout is too adorable Geralt has to kiss it away. Uninterrupted this time.

“Is it worth it though? All the sacrifices?” Geralt's breath ghosts over the skin at Jaskier's throat.

The bard only glares at him for a moment, before letting out a sigh long-sufferingly.

“For you, my dear. Always.” He pecks Geralt’s soft lips one more time. “As long as no one turns me into a toad.”

[hangovercurse]

Our Song

At the last show of his tour, Kells invites you on stage for a duet, but it turns into a bit more than that.

Request: “Can you do one where the reader and Colson both are music artist. I know you're doing this with "The Thing We Can't Tell Pete about. But with this one they have been dating for a while and while they are in the middle of the song Colson decides to announce they're dating and gives her a kiss in front of the crowd, and the reader is just in shock. However it ends it up to you. Love ya!!!!!!!!”

Colson Baker x Reader

Warnings: implied smut/ mentions of sex, cursing

A/N: So, I used my own lyrics in here because why not (sue me I guess)

Word Count: 2326

The last two months had been absolute hell on Earth. Yes, you loved your job. Recording your third studio album was exciting but being busy all the time was exhausting. On top of that, your boyfriend being off on tour meant you hadn’t seen him in person in two months, which was driving you even more insane.

It also meant you hadn’t had sex in almost two months.

You’d called each other every night, even if you were both drunk off your asses or faded beyond belief. It had become your routine; get home from the studio, grab something to eat, then hop into the bath and facetime your blond boyfriend.

Tonight, was no exception, but the energy on the call was different. Colson was coming home tomorrow. Granted, he would be going straight to the venue for his concert, but he’d be here.

“You’re still coming tomorrow, right princess?” He asked, a joint hanging from his lips.

You smiled, nodding, “I haven’t seen you in two months. If I’m not there, you should assume I’m dead.”

He chuckled, “good.” He hesitated before continuing, “I was thinking you could perform with me. We haven’t performed White Sea in like a year.”

You bit your lip at the thought of performing with him again. He was right, after you’d finished live performance promo for the song, neither of you had performed it together. “Yeah, I’m down.”

The song was the first one you’d written together; it was actually the whole reason you’d met. “You don’t think people will get suspicious though? I mean, people are already catching on. I feel like performing it out of the blue would add fire to the flames.”

He thought about it, the wheels turning in his head. “I think it’ll be fine. Besides, it’s not exactly a secret.”

You nodded, “I know, we’ve just never really talked about telling people.” The last two words came out softer than you had intended.

Colson and you had been together for a year and still hadn’t officially told anyone outside of your closest circles. You liked the privacy, and getting the media involved always caused problems. So, you kept it to yourself. People saw you out together, but nothing had been confirmed.

Colson left the conversation there, not having a good answer. You had both agreed a long time ago that if people figured it out or someone slipped up and told you would be okay with it, and you would. You just didn’t think it was a big deal if people knew or not.

He started talking about his day on tour, the crowd he’d played to tonight. You told him about the song you were working on. Eventually he got called away by the boys.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, babe.” He smiled at you through your phone.

You smiled, “You better. I-“ You almost slipped up. Almost said those three words so casually. But you’d caught yourself. “I can’t wait.” You covered.

He gave you a small wave before your screen went back, the sound of the line disconnecting ringing through your bathroom. You put your phone on the floor next to the tub, leaning your head back and sighing.

You don’t know why it worried you so much. You knew you loved him, and you were pretty sure he loved you too. There was just something about saying out loud that scared the hell out of you.

 The next day was amazing. As soon as he texted you that he’d gotten to the venue, you were rushing to meet him there. When you stepped into the green room where he was, he ran up to you and grabbed you by your waist. Your arms went around his neck, legs around his as he lifted you up, burying his face into your shoulder.

“I missed you so much.” He mumbled into your skin. Your hands tangled themselves in his hair, holding him closely.

“I missed you too.” You whispered. He lifted his head up and pressed a deep kiss to your lips as your feet came down to touch the floor again. His lips were so familiar, it felt like the world had shifted back into place when you felt them on yours.

He pulled away, forehead and nose still pressed against yours. Your hands travelled from his neck to his shoulders, rubbing the fabric of his t-shirt. “I didn’t think I was gonna survive another night without you.” You said with a slight giggle, making him laugh.

“Well now you don’t have to worry about that.” He said, pressing a peck to your lips.

Before you could pull him back to your lips, your moment was interrupted. “We get it, you guys are cute. Whatever. Can we get hugs from our favorite girl?” Irv joked, pulling your attention to the group of guys near the couches in the room.

One of the things you loved most about being with Colson was how accepting his friends were of you. Slim and you had bonded over your love of music production and mixing, Baze had taught you some more complicated bass riffs, and Rook was your designated adventure buddy (after Colson, of course). You felt lucky that your boyfriend’s family had taken you in as one of their own.

You ran over to them, giving each of the guys a hug. When you hugged Ashleigh, she whispered in your ear, “don’t ever leave me alone with these lunatics again.” You both giggled at that, leaving the boys confused.

After messing around backstage for a while and catching up with your friends (mostly from the comfort of Colson’s lap), it was time for the guys to perform. You set up your spot side-stage with Ash, Irv, and Andre, excited to see the set.

Before he went on, Colson came over to you and pulled you in for a very giddy kiss. Pre-show Colson was your favorite Colson, except for maybe post-show Colson, only because he was so excitable. Every time you sat show side, he demanded you give him a good luck kiss. No matter who was watching.

Watching him was magical, in fact watching all the boys was magical. The way their passion showed through the music and the performance was something that not many other artists could perfect. You felt like you’d never match their level of performing.

When Colson brought out his acoustic guitar and two bar stools, you were a bit taken aback. Normally his shows were so high energy that he never wanted to sit down, even during the slower songs. It wasn’t really his style.

“I wanted to bring out a very special guest today to help slow this down a bit.” He said to the crowd as they screamed. “I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, but I figured today would be the perfect time to do it.”

He looked over at you, a smile on his face. It finally registered in his mind that he was talking about your song. Luckily, you’d had ears put in at the beginning of the show, so that wasn’t an issue. One of the venue’s techs handed you a microphone and signaled you to go on stage.

Once you came in view of the audience they erupted into another round of cheers, making you smile. Colson met you halfway and pulled you in for a sweaty hug. He led you over to the chairs, letting you sit down while he adjusted his mic stand. “For those of you who don’t know, not that there should be anyone who doesn’t know who this is, but just in case, this is Y/S/N. We wrote this song a little over a year ago today.”

You smiled as he started to strum the familiar intro, the lights dimming just a little bit.

Drownin’ in empty space.

You started singing.

Don’t even know my name

Feels like you’re miles away

Close my eyes, see your face

It’s okay

Rook brought the drum beat in as Colson smiled at you, his verse starting

Yeah

I was drownin’ in this darkness

Feeling like I was so heartless

All these drugs makin things harder

They tried to turn me to a martyr

You loved watching him party on stage, but you loved watching this side of him, too. Completely stripped down and raw. Hearing him rap the words you wrote together made your heart flutter, even if you’d written them so long ago.

I can’t handle shit I’m just a man

I tried to tell ‘em, they don’t understand

Riptide’s pulling me away from land

I couldn’t stand till you reached out your hand

And now I can.

The rest of the music came in, the sounds mixing as you began the chorus.

Drownin’ in empty space

Don’t even my name

Feels like you’re miles away

Close my eyes, see your face

The key raised.

Out on the open sea

Feel your eyes watching me

Wanted to fall asleep

Now I believe.

The music kept playing, but Colson’s rap didn’t enter like it was supposed to. Instead, he just looked at you, a fond smile on his face. You tilted your head, questioning him, but he just placed his guitar on the ground and kept looking at you.

“I just want to let everyone here know, that today is my one-year anniversary with this amazing woman right here.” He said into the mic, causing the audience to burst into screams. Your jaw dropped, eyes widening.

He caught your expression and laughed but kept going. “It wasn’t a secret that we’ve been together, but we’ve been quiet about it. But I mean, like, fuck that shit. When you’re in love you should tell everyone, right?”

You smiled at him, your heart picking up speed. “And Y/N I am so fucking in love with you.”

You looked down, trying to hide the heat on your cheeks and the idiotic grin you were sporting. You had never expected this from him. “Like, seriously, this past year has been the best year of my life. Even when we aren’t together you are the one thing that I look forward to the most, every day. You are one of the best things in my life, and I want everyone to know that.”

During his little monologue he had walked over to your chair and pulled you up into his arms. You nuzzled your face into his bare chest, making him laugh. He pulled the microphone away from you both so it wouldn’t pick up your conversation.

“Hey, look at me.” He said softly and you complied. “I love you.”

You had tears in your eyes as you studied his perfect features, “I love you, too.” You whispered. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a while I just…”

“I know, princess.” He smiled, leaning down and pressing your lips together in a sweet, passionate kiss. The audience erupted in applause, cheers, and awes. “Are you gonna say anything?” He asked once you’d pulled away, motioning to the audience with a smile on his face. You shook your head, burying it back in his chest and laughing. He spoke into the microphone, “she got all shy now.”

The crowd laughed with him, shouting supportive comments at you both. “But she said she loves me too so that’s all that matters.” He continued, earning even more cheers.

 After the show, Colson came backstage and immediately attached his lips to yours, hands holding you close. You pulled him into one of the unused dressing rooms, mouths never leaving each other. He hoisted you onto the counter, standing in between your legs, and leaned your back against the mirror.

Finally, he released your lips from his, making you whine. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about all this, but after last night I couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. And you just looked so pretty out there that I-“ You cut him off with a kiss, lips moving together slowly.

He chuckled as you pulled away. “Colson, I loved it. I was hella embarrassed because the first time you told me you loved me was in front of thousands of people, but I loved it. And I love you.”

He smiled, pressing a peck to your lips. “How much do you love me?” He asked, slyly.

You raised an eyebrow at him, knowing something was up. “Depends on your next statement.”

A laugh fell from his mouth as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small rectangular box. “Because I really hope it’s a lot.”

“What are you doing?” You asked him, giggling.

He lifted the lid off of the box to reveal a key with your first initial painted on one side and a C on the other. “You don’t have to, but if you wanted to maybe think about moving in with me, now you have a key.” He smiled as you took the metal in your hands.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, lips open in shock. “So, you’re asking me to move in with you?” You confirmed.

“Only if you want to. But yes.”

You smiled, looking back down to the key and then up to his face before pressing a passionate kiss to his lips. Your arms went around his neck and his hands went to your waist. “Of course, I want to, dummy.” You giggled and reconnected your lips.

“We’re supposed to go out and celebrate the last night of tour tonight, you’re gonna come, right?” He asked and you rolled your eyes.

“You act like I don’t wanna be around you.” You pushed his chest playfully. “But we might be a couple minutes late.” You smirk.

Colson raised an eyebrow, “oh yeah? And why is that?”

Instead of responding you just giggled and pulled him back into a kiss.

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Ares

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon, Ares

Lucifer

He cannot overstate what kind of damage this mortal was able to do in their first few seconds in the Devildom...

The instant they got to their feet, they had managed to incapacitate Satan and knock down Beel. Lucifer himself tried to get between them and Diavolo but…

If he hadn’t moved his head, if he was standing just ONE INCH to the left… he wouldn’t have a head anymore. Barbatos was there to intervene, but had he not they could have probably taken out the Avatar of Pride and done critical damage to the Demon Prince himself in one strike...

Frankly, Lucifer prefers not to dwell on that moment... He's sure Ares must be proud of this one...

He pretty much treats the mortal like a live bomb afterward, if he can get away with not interacting with them at all, that’s what he’ll do.

He’s NOT scared of them... much... It’s just that they have a bullish and uncooperative attitude at best and since they know they can take any of them, they don't even consider him - Lucifer, the eldest demon brother - a threat...

But you know what the most frustrating thing is? They won't give him an inch of respect, but they'll always listen to Levi! Levi!!

Look, Lucifer knows he may not hold a rank among the Hell's army and he might not have been a major player in the Celestial/Demonic wars of the day, but he's still the strongest demons here, dammit!! 😡

Lucifer finds nothing is more embarrassing than having to ask Levi of all people to keep the mortal in line because he can't... Oh, the humiliation… He hopes they leave soon...

Mammon

At first, he thought they were scary. But in time he thought they were scary… and also pretty damn awkward.

Mammon wasn’t there when they more or less wiped out the majority of his brothers in the Conference Hall but when he finally showed up he'd never seen Lucifer look so pale… If THAT doesn't make you shit your pants, he doesn't know what will.

Naturally, he kind of toned it down on the "stupid human" stuff real quick after seeing that…

But here's the thing. After the two made a pact together, Mammon started to notice that the MC wasn't all that mean, they were just… violent?

He legitimately thought that they couldn’t stand him for a while until one day a guy on the street called him a dirtbag. The MC threw a punch right there! No questions asked, they just decked that guy!!

It was kind of touching… and messy. Very messy. Did he mention that they’re terrifying yet? 😥

As it turns out, the MC has apparently spent a lot of their life just fighting things and being asked to fight things so they're not very used to showing non-violent affection… 

It took him awhile, but he realized that their way of saying, "I like you," is, "I will attack your enemies." So now all he does when his brothers tease him is say, "I'm telling MC!'' and they'll stop immediately. It's great!! 😁

Considers them to be his bodyguard when he goes out to gamble in some… shadier places. Most of the time not even the bouncers want to take on the MC, ain't nobody getting paid enough to lose that many teeth…

Leviathan

Okay, so. It's not very obvious anymore, but he USED to be on the front lines of the war against demons in the Celestial Realm. He was in charge of battle strategies, he led armies, and even now he still holds the highest rank of the royal navy!

So leave it to the kid of a war god to sniff all that out about him, huh…? They appeared to know all about his record the instant they saw him and they actually seemed to respect him for it!

For context, this mortal tells pretty much everybody to shove off but any time he’s around they call him “Admiral” or “sir” and actually pay attention to what he says! He can tell it drives Lucifer insane, but honestly? It’s a bit of an ego boost. 😌

It’s sort of cute when they come to him asking for tactical advice… They get just as into it as he does with his anime and any time he points out something that they haven't seen before they get so excited it's like they're a kid watching a magic trick. HUGE ego boost. 😏

Speaking of anime, it’s hit or miss whether or not they can watch any of it. Anything with good fight scenes (and let’s be honest, not that much talking) they’re on board for. But if the hero and the villain talk to each other for like an episode before throwing punches then the MC will just rant...

MC: “The enemy is distracted... Why aren’t they attacking yet??”

Levi: “Because the villain killed the hero’s best friend and they’re-”

MC: “They could avenge their friend right now if they ended things right here!”

Levi: “MC, we’ve been over this... That’s not how plot works.”

MC: “And now he got away!! See?? They should have killed him when they had the chance!”

Levi: “*sigh*... Let’s just play some CoD.”

Satan 

The last thing he remembered when the “human” hopped out of the portal was a sharp pain to the side of the temple and Asmo wailing as he fell unconscious…

Yeeeeah, not great. And unfortunately for the mortal the Avatar of Wrath tends to hold a grudge… 

For a comparatively brief moment in time, all of Satan’s considerable ire had shifted away from Lucifer and to their new housemate. They found their bed, clothes, pillows, food, and even their toothbrush cursed!

… But Ares kids must be built from some strong stuff, because half of what he employed didn’t even faze them! He even put an explosive spell on their backpack and not only did they tank the blast, it didn’t hurt them at all!! It was like they’re damn near immortal!

Annnnd they kind of are. Apparently the MC had taken a dip in the River Styx at some point before and became nigh invulnerable…

Was it maybe a little terrifying to know that they had kidnapped a nearly invincible demigod on the level of Achilles? Yes. Did that also mean that they must have had a weakness too? In theory....

Satan honestly devoted a depressing amount of time trying to uncover the “Achilles’ Heel” of his new sworn enemy… until…

The MC was walking with him and Asmo to RAD one morning when they passed by a group of lesser demons harassing a small puppy. Now Satan may be more of a cat man, but NO ONE fucks with animals while he’s around.

He was right about to go over and rip those demons a new one but the MC actually beat him to it! Apparently, the second that they realized what was happening, they launched themselves forward and started bashing the abusers' heads into a wall!

… Live by violence, forgive by violence because in that very moment Satan decided they weren’t so bad after all. He even joined in!

Oh, Asmo gave them both shit all day for the bloodstains on their uniforms and the scratches on their… everywhere, but it’s not like either of them cared. Righteous justice had been served and it was glorious!!

100% would team up with the MC in some kind of vigilante “punish-all-animal-abusers” gig. They have but to ask. 😌

Asmodeus

Oh they TERRIFIED Asmo when they first showed up! How else was he supposed to react?? They brought down his brothers like they were made of cardboard!!

Though he had to admit that the confident, battle-ready look they had about them was sexy as hell, he knew better than to go bear poking! 😣 He avoided them like plague until they finally asked him for a pact.

And then he discovered something… something very unexpected….

They're actually adorable!!!

Okay, like, not in appearance (they look like they could pile drive Cerberus for Pete’s sake!) but he discovered that they have NO CLUE how to handle physical affection. Like zero!!

The first time Asmo actually got the courage to try and hug them he expected them to toss him off, but instead they just stood there like a malfunctioning doll, all flustered and confused… It was so cute!!! 🥰

From that point on, Asmo would take every chance he could to wrap his arms around them or kiss their cheeks just to watch them try and fail to handle it. It's more fun than picking on Levi!!

It took two months for them to finally attempt any kind of reciprocation and even that was adorable! They pecked him on the forehead without thinking about it then nearly passed out from the realization. Apparently, they had never felt like kissing anyone before so he was quite honored!

The brothers know that if the MC's looking too mad to listen to Levi, they just need to call Asmo. A nigh invincible warrior becomes a LOT less scary after you’ve cuddled them into submission! 🤭

Beelzebub

Beel didn't like them one bit, at least not at the beginning. They had managed to get past him and actually attack Lucifer which was NOT a great first impression on their part...

He honestly saw them as a threat for a while, but unlike the rest of his brothers he didn’t avoid them. He just kept an eye on them.... constantly….

Look. Beel is a big guy. Stealth is not his strong suit… If he's tailing you, you're probably going to know about it because there's a six-foot something behemoth in orange following you around while pounding down bags of chips. He's not very subtle…

That being said, after following them around for a while the two finally got to talking and he realized that they didn’t want to hurt anybody or anything. They were just acting on instinct before.

After making the MC promise not to hurt any of his family, they got on much better terms. Hell, he actually got them into fangol!

Beel's sport of choice is pretty much just ultra-violent American football so the MC took a liking to it instantly! After enough begging, the coach let them try out and they got onto his team immediately.

He likes having them as a teammate! They're very good at the game, uh... even if they take it a little too seriously…

They once tried to convince his teammates to decorate the team bus with "the helmets of their fallen foes." They're REALLY into the sport… But hey, they haven't lost a game since they’ve joined. It’ll be fine!... Probably.

Belphegor

Hahaha… He’s in danger… 😥

It took one look at this mortal to make him rethink the whole, “Trick the Human” plan… Since when have humans looked like that?? They could crush his skull under their heel!!

It took all he had in him to play it cool when they first met because his internal monologue was nothing but screaming… THIS was the "human" he had to use to get him out of there?? How in the WORLD was he going to kill them?!

Admittedly, he had to think about it for a while. Belphie's a clever guy… and a demon. So who needs an honorable fight, anyway? If he can’t win one-on-one, then he’ll cheat!

He waited until the MC got the door open and didn't attempt a frontal assault… No laughter, no gloating. He just waited for them to turn their back, claws ready to dig out their heart, and then-!

MC: "Do you really want to try that?"

The MC must have had some kind of danger sense, because they didn't even have to turn around to know what Belphie was doing…

MC: "Look. I like Beel and you're his twin brother… So I'm willing to let this slide. But if you really want to try me…"

MC: *looks over their shoulder with the glare of a bona fide killer* "I won't hold back."

That was... very persuasive.

The MC brought Belphie down to the others peacefully with his tail between his legs and honestly Lucifer was more relieved that he wasn’t a bloodstain on the floor than he was mad… They could have killed him sooo easily… 

They did, indeed, forgive and forget about the whole “attempted murder” thing, though Belphie was never quite able to shake off how frightening they were in that moment… He had nightmares for a while.

Thankfully, Asmo clued him in that the MC would melt into a harmless puddle of fluff if they got even the slightest bit of physical affection... Oh, the sweet payback he could dish out... It’s cuddle time. 😏

[bthump]

Headcanons for an au where NeoGriff regains his emotions and seeks Guts out?

Man, yk the thought of NGriff suddenly regaining his emotions is hard to wrap my brain around. Like if he is emotionless, or nearly so, right now and then suddenly gets them back all at once?

tbh idk if he’d seek Guts out. honestly my number one thought is that he’d want to die. And not even like, out of guilt, like because he thinks he deserves it or anything, but more just because he wouldn’t be able to handle having feelings again. Like he’d definitely feel guilty but he wouldn’t want to kill himself to assuage that guilt, but rather to escape it. In these circumstances, from his point of view, continuing on to fulfill his dream would be a self-sacrificial attempt to assuage that guilt, while dying would be a selfish escape.

Imo having feelings again suddenly would make his dream feel even more important, because he’s done even more horrible shit on the road to achieving it now (including breaking the world so that his utopia needs to exist for anyone who doesn’t want to get eaten by a dragon lol). So I think what he’d be most likely to do is exactly what he has been doing, but now barely managing to keep his shit together.

Also consider: suddenly having a heap of trauma from being tortured for a year dumped back on him, just as raw as it was when his feelings were frozen away.

And of course there’s his feelings for Guts. Who definitely thinks he’s cruel now lol. Honestly if he did seek Guts out I think it would be to kill him, or be killed. As nearly-emotionless NGriff he was fine existing in the same world as Guts and pretending not to care, but now I don’t think he’d be able to stand the thought of like, Guts hating him, basically. And probably the result would be “be killed” because if even Femto couldn’t kill Guts NGriff suddenly dealing with all his feelings again definitely couldn’t lol.

Now I’m wondering what would happen if like, when Griffith got his feelings back, Guts was right there. Like say he had a magic plan to bring Griffith’s ~soul~ back and was waiting for it to take effect. OOOOOH. How about Griffith, about two seconds away from a breakdown, blaming Guts for his weakness and impossible to handle emotional turmoil, screaming “You should have died!” Kinda like how Guts fixing Casca had all that ominous foreshadowing, “what will she do if she does get her sanity back?” etc, fixing Griffith would also not be a good time for anyone. I think things would be really dark honestly.

Like if Guts brought his soul back or whatever Griff might understand that Guts doesn’t hate human him. But by now he’s a few steps beyond the love is all you need happy ending we could’ve got in a Golden Age AU imo. I think basically his 2 options are to die or bottle it up as hard as humanly possible and keep pursuing the dream. Idk if I can imagine a happy ending out of this lol. Even if Guts was willing to do or say anything to get one, which is pretty unlikely bc he has a ton of painful feelings rn too, I can’t really think of anything that would work. Mmmaybe Guts offering to join him again in Falconia, helping achieve his dream? But I don’t really think he would, and even then I think Griff would still be light years away from being capable of dealing with being in love with Guts on top of everything. Might be an interesting starting point though.

Ooh, or maybe Guts destroying Falconia with no hope of restoring it, leaving Griffith with nothing else to turn to but him. Maybe Guts defies fate with magic brand powers by restoring Griff’s feelings and this shoves the world off-track and cuts Griff off from his magic fate powers. Or maybe getting his soul back completely nerfs him. Or maybe his immunity to and calming influence on apostles is taken away and they destroy Falconia and now he’s got an army of apostles obsessed with him and able to do something about it. Whatever works to ruin Griff’s life again. Though this would be griffgutsy, but not exactly a happy ending lmao.

It’s like, Guts makes Griff fall in love with him, destroys him, destroys his dream, refuses to die, then just when Griff thinks he’s in the clear on account of being an unfeeling demon with no weaknesses Guts shoves all his weaknesses back into him but ten times worse now and destroys him and his dream again. Like at that point Griffith would just give up lol.

The way I’m envisioning this it would be pretty damn dark, rather than romantic and hopeful. I’d emphasize the hell out of the emotional nightmare this is for Griff lol. Guts finally gets Griffith’s undivided attention because he razed every safeguard Griffith put in place to protect himself from that love to the ground. Fuck enemies to lovers style love/hate, you can’t beat I hate you because I love you style love/hate. And I mean as much as Guts loves Griff he’s still pretty dark in canon and his feelings would still be mixed in this situation imo, he might get a lil thrill out of destroying the idyllic paradise Griffith chose over Guts, and making him feel everything he’s done, and finally getting him to look at him and only him after he’s spent years in pursuit of him and tried and failed to get over him. This could totally be fucked up on both sides. Hand in unloveable hand.

ANYWAY thanks for the ask, and sorry this isn’t really a fun positive answer lol, I’m too caught up in Griffith’s self-destructive feelings and convoluted ways to make griffguts fucked up.

I think I could actually more easily imagine Guts and NeoGriffith living happily ever after than Guts and a fully emotional again Griffith who remembers making the sacrifice and being Femto lol.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 151

This chapter has been one that I have been dying to write for a while. I was worried that @baelpenrose would resist the idea, but he very much thought it was hilarious. As always, his input and riffing on this chapter has very much made it better and better.

However, it also made the chapter longer, lol. But there is just no way to trim it down without losing something that makes it all work, so this week is nearly double my normal length... break everyone’s heart, right? ;)

“I don’t like these numbers,” Parvati grumbled - as much as she was capable of grumbling - as she scrolled through the final counts of approval ratings on her and Hannah’s inaugural Food Festival.

The statistics had been dropped into our inboxes that morning, in the static of about a thousand other notifications now that Derek had finished the stress-test. Also included were the results of the last three invasion-prep drills, which I was in the process of scanning over.

“How bad are they?” I asked, half listening for a number. The drills were trending better, which was a good sign that the moves were effective.

Dismissing her display with a gesture of disgust, she sighed. “Seventy-four percent approval rating.”

I arched a brow and glanced over. “Did you adjust for those who did not attend?”

The glare she sent me wasn’t seen so much as felt. “Of course I did. First thing I ran…”

“Are you filtering by the day the comments came in?”

“I -” Bingo. She huffed. “No! These are intended to be ratings for the entirety of the event!”

I started scrolling through my own statistics. “Chart them out by the date the ratings came in, filtering out everyone who didn’t actually attend.”

A pause. “Oh… Oh! It’s showing ninety-three-point-four now!”

“Et voila,” I murmured. Louder, I clarified, “People like to weigh in early, and those who object in general tend to speak first.”

“I see that… how’s it going over there?” she asked, smoothing her braid over her shoulder as she turned to look at me directly.

“We are improving with every drill, marked upticks since the relocations. Arthur should be here in about - “ I glanced at a clock, “Seven minutes to go over next steps.”

Alistair breezed over to swap my empty bulb of cold coffee for a fresh one of water. “The appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

Parvati beat me to the punch.  “He is also compulsively early, meaning…. Six minutes now.”

He rolled his eyes hard enough that I wanted to giggle. “He doesn’t even have the decency to be fashionably late. Appalling.”

Surely enough, Arthur paged at the entrance - out of some sort of manners I accidentally instilled in him - exactly five minutes prior to our scheduled appointment. As he breezed into my office, he managed a half-assed glare at Alistair for abruptly turning away and focusing on my schedule rather than his usual tendency to get a beverage for any newcomers. “Okay, updated data on drills isn’t what I want it to be.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right? Your team and Michael’s haven’t gotten past deck four by more than three percent in the last seven exercises.”

“Any percent above zero is unacceptable,” he grumbled. I chalked it up to the indignity of being forced to get his own tea from the console.

Almost as though to spite Arthur, Alistair made a point to set a refreshed water bulb in front of everyone except the professor. “There are guards on the other levels for a reason,” he suggested drily.

“And I would rather those guards be idle, thank you,” Arthur threw back in a near-venomous tone.

“Us guards would rather be prepared for any eventuality, which you may do well to plan for in your petty drills.”

I didn’t even try to intervene. Clearly there was some blatantly disagreement between my  admin and my friend, and I was exhausted from trying to make them cooperate.

“If I’m doing my job, you should be so grateful as to be idle,” Arthur drawled.

Alistair scoffed. “As if being left to rest and get fatter than a Christmas goose is a blessing…”

“You’ll live longer!”

“And get lax in my duties, which I will not stand for!”

“Get fat! Get lazy! LIVE! I don’t care! I’m not going to be lax in my duties to allow you the opportunity of getting practice at fighting.” Standing, Arthur buried both hands in his hair, but it looked less like he was running his fingers through it than pulling on it. “Are we really discussing this when we are training to fight in living body condoms?”

“I need to defend the Archives!”

“And Michael and I need to defend everyone! Us doing our job means you don’t need to do yours.”

My neck snapped back at the vehemence in his tone. This wasn’t their normal sparring… they may have never truly gotten along, but even in the beginning it was never so vicious.

To my further alarm, Alistair took a long stride forward and stared down his nose at Arthur. “We both know that she - “ his hand flung out to point at me “is either the luckiest or unluckiest person in existence. You can’t really believe that, in an actual assault on this ship, that she won’t be in danger. Which will place Tyche, the Archives, Derek Okafor, and Samuel Richardson in equal danger. You aren’t an idiot, you know this.” The hand pointing toward me turned, and time seemed to slow down as he stabbed Arthur in the sternum with it, punctuating each of his next words. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“Poke me again, and the finger comes off.”

“I would dearly love to see you try.”

Hannah and Parvati had jumped to their feet when Alistair approached Arthur, but were now slowly moving around to my position, safely behind my desk. Hannah hissed at me through clenched teeth, “You had to tell them to fight it out.”

“I thought they would use a gym, not the damned office,” I hissed back.

Before she could respond, Alistair spoke again. “You aren’t the only one on the Ark who wants to protect everyone. You need to trust us to do our bloody jobs.”

“The last time I trusted anyone else to protect people, I lost fourteen students,” came the ground out response. “I’m not backing down on this.”

“You will, or I will sedate you and strap you to a medical berth for the next four months.” Alistair stepped back and crossed his arms with finality.

A trickle of nerves ran down my spine as I watched Arthur clench his fists and release them. “You think the solution to everything is to tie it up, I swear.”

“Stop changing the topic. I am deadly serious, Farro.”

Arthur turned away from him, waving him off. “Try something else, you would never just sedate me for months on end.” Before we could stop anything, Alistair leapt forward and put Arthur in a headlock, only to be immediately flipped over the other man’s shoulder and onto the table. “Tch. Sloppy. I know you can do better.”

“I thought you wanted me to get fat and lazy,” Alistair grunted as he sucker-punched Arthur in the stomach and rolled for the other side.  Once on his feet, he eyed Arthur carefully as he circled the table. “You stubborn ass, you know I am right.  You are putting everyone in the lower levels at risk by not running preparedness drills with them, because you don’t want to factor in the fact that one of the offensive teams could fail.”

“We don’t have the luxury of failing, so no. If we do our jobs correctly, everyone who matters will be safe at the other end of the Ark.”

They didn’t seem to be at each other’s throats anymore, but the arguing wasn’t getting anywhere. “Guys - “ I tried.

Both men turned and practically screamed at me with their glares to stop talking.  Oookay. I held up my hands in surrender and decided to let them sort it out their way.

Damned if the console wasn’t on the other side of them, though. I couldn’t even get popcorn and a drink.

Alistair blew a harsh breath through his nose. “If you won’t include the lower decks in your drills, I will start sparring with Jokul.”

“He would kill you,” Arthur barked in the most miserable laugh I’ve ever heard.

“God forbid,” Alistair mocked. “If I were gone, who would make your tea in the morning.”

“The same person who picks up the socks that magically appear all over my quarters every day, obviously. Worthington, I’m serious, he could really hurt you. He has really hurt me. And Charly.”

That last part was dismissed with a wave. “Madam Charles the First put the fear of herself into him.”

“And you haven’t. He could kill you by accident, and he’d never forgive himself.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if you would let me train more!”

Arthur groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You are an adult, we’ve talked about this. Train all you want, with whoever you want - Charly, Sophia, Tyche… hell, train with Evan or Michael, I don’t care. Just, not Jokul.”

When did they talk about this? I wondered. It had to be during a sparring session or something, because it definitely wasn’t in my office during one of our meetings. A glance at Hannah showed she was watching everything unfold like it was the most riveting show she had ever seen, and Parvati’s squint of consideration wasn’t much better.

“As you said, I’m an adult. Perhaps I should take your advice, and train with Charly - “

“See - “

“- and Jokul. She will make sure I don’t get hurt.”

Arthur flung his hands up in frustration. “You are so stubborn, I swear!” Growling, he paced in a circle. “Fine! Train with Charly and Jokul. IN the bivouac suit, though! And I don’t want to hear a word when you end up confined in a med bay yourself.”

Alistair’s smug grin showed just how much he seemed to care. “At least I would be spared of picking up the trail of dishes that seem to follow you around.”

“For the love of - they are my quarters! Mine! And I don’t want to hear about it when your bloody socks are constantly getting lost behind my sofa!”

Oh. Oh no. Nonononononono.

“My socks can go wherever they fucking want to, when I am constantly cleaning your disgusting whiskers out of the sink!”

“You know what would fix you having to clean whiskers out of the sink? I could just stop shaving altogether. How about...that…” Arthur trailed off and very slowly turned toward the three of us behind my desk with a look of dawning horror.

And I tried. I really, really tried not to laugh.  I could feel my face reddening, my chest aching with the effort of holding it in.  

Hannah’s snort was my undoing. As soon as that tiny noise escaped her, all three of us erupted into hysterical, stomach-cramping, tearful laughter.  I felt stabbing in my arm as Parvati dug her nails in, trying desperately not to fall.  Unfortunately for her, Hannah grabbed me at the same time and all three of us toppled to the floor. The sight of Arthur rolling his eyes and crossing his arms only made me escalate from laughing to shrieking in hysterics and relief.

I couldn’t speak for the other two ladies, but I thought the two men were going to end up killing each other… At no point did I think they took the other option when I told them to either fight it out or….

I gasped for breath, trying to get myself under control. Wobbling to my feet with the help of my trusty desk and a couple yanks to free my shirt from Parvati’s desperate clutching, I pointed between them. “This… how long? Can’t believe… didn’t figure it out.”

“Not everyone is as… public… as you, Conor, and Maverick are,” Arthur snarked at me. “You know, private lives should be private and all that?”

“Must be for you,” I confided in Alistair’s direction, where he had turned his back to our fit.  “He’s never not told me when he was dating someone. Or thinking of dating someone. Or potentially interested in seeing if he was interested in dating someone… Best friend privileges and all that.”  While I waited for Alistair to respond, my mind whirled through all the things I had brushed off before but were very obvious in retrospect.

Glancing at Arthur for a hint yielded nothing but a flat stare that all but declared in flashing lights You Aren’t Stupid.

I tilted my head at that, and kept thinking. There had been genuine animosity on Alistair’s side in the beginning, and not a small amount of needling on Arthur’s.  So I knew it wasn’t something that had always been going on. My mind came to a screeching halt, however, when I remembered something - the day Alistair, Tyche, and I decided that, when I vacated my position on the Council, they would vacate roles as well to leave behind a ‘clean slate’. “Four years, holy shit,” I gasped. “Four years!?”

Finally, Alistair moved. His back was still to us, but his arms went limp by his sides, and his head dropped down toward the floor. “It would be unseemly to have the new Councilor of Education in a relationship with the attache to the Councilor for Resources and Engagement. Or formerly in a relationship, should things not end well.”

“And since he won’t be taking his position until we are on Von,” I put together, “You are okay to serve out the rest of my term, just not Hannah’s or Parvati’s.”

“Correct.”

“Huh. That makes sense,” I admitted before hopping up to sit on my desk, the chair being a lost cause on the other side of two women who were still sniffling and giggling on the floor. “I learned a lot today.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur confirmed drily. “And it had better stay in this office.”

“What?” I managed a pretty convincing confused face before pretending to realize what he meant. “Oh! The relationship thing. Yeah, cool, whatever. That’s not what I was talking about, but you’re good.”

“Dare I even ask what you meant?” Alistair ventured, finally turning around so that he could give me a warning look.

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” I asked, shaking my head and spreading my hands, palms up. When they both just stared at me, I finally broke and grinned. “Dude. You two are freaking slobs.”

The squeaking noises coming from the vicinity of my feet told me that no further work would be getting done for the rest of the day.

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