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ninthprime · 3 months ago

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now that hxh is officially coming back here's my attempt to count how many plots are going on at once right now

a plot: the kakin royal family, joined by beyond netero, has chartered an expedition to the forbidden dark continent on a huge whale ship with thousands of civilians. the hunter association signed on to join with the plan of actually sending the ship to a fake “new continent”, dropping off the family and civilians there, and then continuing to the real continent. the problem is the king of kakin is also using this expedition to force his fourteen (legitimate) children into a death match, with the survivor as heir

b plot: kurapika has discovered that kakin’s fourth prince tserriednich is in possession of the remaining scarlet eyes and, in order to get close to him, has signed on as a bodyguard to the fourteenth prince, baby woble, and her mom queen oito. as it turns out all the princes have autonomous nen beasts so this is a more complicated job than it looks. by which i mean at one point he gave up a substantial part of his life to possess a cockroach

c plot: to get more specific, kurapika has been trying to keep the peace by inviting the servants and bodyguards of the other princes to come to nen classes taught by him (read: he and fellow bodyguard bill are just forcibly opening their nen abilities), but a mysterious nen construct called “silent majority” killed most of woble’s other servants and now keeps killing people in the classes. there are apparently multiple people who can use nen in the classes already and who are mostly not telling him.

d plot: the three big mafia families of kakin (the hei-ly, xi-yu and cha-r) have been invited onto the ship mostly because their leaders are all illegitimately related to the king and been told to not cause any trouble…but the king’s illegitimate daughter morena, the new leader of the hei-ly and certified #gamergirl, actively wants to the destroy the world and is breaking the peace by spreading nen to her followers using her ability and letting them gain “levels” by killing people on the ship.

e plot: the phantom troupe has shown up knowing that hisoka will have followed them here and are trying to track him down and kill him. they’ve split into groups and the only group we’ve followed- phinks, feitan and nobunaga- have teamed up with the xi-yu and cha-r to deal with both hisoka and morena. during this we get an extended flashback about how the phantom troupe used to be tween anime dubbers and originally became criminals to track down those who killed their friend.

f plot: unbeknownst to the phantom troupe, the xi-yu’s underboss hinrigh has already met with hisoka (or at least someone who looks a lot like him) and given him a passage to the top level, where the royal family is, because the mafia knows a fight against hisoka will be more trouble than it’s worth while also trying to stop morena. in other words: hisoka is going to where kurapika is

g plot: tserriednich, the previously mentioned guy with the eyes, is also a misogynist serial killer and has gotten interested in nen, so his bodyguard theta has decided to teach him nen herself in order to slow him down and potentially stop him. unfortunately he’s a nen genius and has already developed an ability that lets him see into the future and overwrite reality by reacting accordingly, which he used to get out of theta shooting him. his nen beast has now marked theta for lying to him twice and will make her “no longer human” if she lies a third time.

h plot: melody, hired to be here by kurapika, attempted to sneak the teenage twin tenth and eleven princes off the ship only for the tenth prince (and the other hunter she was working with) to be killed, revealing the princes cannot leave the ship. thankfully the tenth prince kacho’s nen beast is basically her ghost. melody is now likely going to have to deal with an investigation into her actions and has also noticed that eleventh prince fugetsu is rapidly having her nen depleted. kaiser, a member of the justice bureau, claims to have fallen in love with melody after she performed her music for the ship and intends to help her, but melody doesn’t trust him and thinks he’s using manipulation nen on himself. oh and a large amount of the princes have invited her to perform for them, including tserriednich.

i plot: first prince benjamin, a nen user, has control of the military and has used his customary status as firstborn to send one of his guards to each of his younger siblings, which in at least one case led to a successful kill (the eighth prince). he’s in lockdown currently however because second prince camilla, also a nen user with an extremely powerful ability that seems to prevent her from being killed, attempted to kill him herself, and the justice bureau on the ship is trying to figure out who started what.

j plot: camilla has a group of ultra-loyal guards from the lower caste who have developed nen curses to kill her siblings in exchange for their own deaths. their captain, sarahell, has been developing a curse on woble and intends to attend kurapika’s class to deploy it.

k plot: ninth prince halkenburg, a baby marxist who progressive civilians and the younger princes both see as a potential savior, tried to kill his father and then himself after the first death in the succession battle and got stopped by nen beasts both times. he has responded to this by going apeshit and developing an ability that appears to allow him to put the souls of his guards into other people. his testing of this involved having one of his men shoot himself while in the body of one of benjamin’s men, so benjamin has him arrested now too.

l plot: third prince zhang-li’s nen beast is dispensing mysterious coins and zhang-li is dispensing said coins amongst his guards as well as to melody, whose performance he liked. zhang-li also appears to be hiding that he’s actually the son of the king’s illegitimate half-brother onior, the head of the xi-yu, who he’s asked to look into the last succession battle.

m plot: hanzo and bisky, also hired to be here by kurapika, were working as bodyguards for the twelfth and thirteenth princes until the twelfth prince was the first death of the war. the kindergarten-aged thirteenth prince’s stress in response to his sister dying now appears to have led his nen beast to trap their group in some sort of reality bubble. bisky had to reveal her battle form to head servant vergei to explain nen and what was happening, which has mostly just led to vergei getting a mad crush on her.

n plot: izunavi and basho are also here on kurapika’s behest guarding the sixth and seventh princes, who both have not done much yet; sixth prince tyson has a mysterious religious creed that izunavi has convinced her to pass onto her father and seventh prince luzurus mostly likes to smoke weed everyday but seems surprisingly perceptive and, more importantly, apparently funds the cha-r.

o plot: despite being a deranged maniac, tserriednich has a group of childhood friends working fairly standard military guard positions on the lower floors; they’re trying to find out more about nen after picking up that the hei-ly, which tserriednich was allied with before morena took over, are using it.

p plot: fifth prince tubeppa, aware she has few allies and little knowledge of nen, has been trying to meet with kurapika for a while. the literal last thing teased before this hiatus was her bodyguard longhi revealing to kurapika that she knows nen and kurapika agreeing to meet with tubeppa.

q plot: the rest of the phantom troupe has split off: machi and franklin are both on their own (but nobunaga wants to go get franklin), chrollo is making a plan with shizuku and bonolenov that appears to involve a disguise ability bono has, and illumi joined the troupe on hisoka’s request so they could have a yaoi death battle and is with kalluto. speaking of which:

r plot: mizai ran into illumi and kalluto and has them staying in a room in the quarters the zodiacs are using. he’s currently trying to figure out whether he should be telling kurapika the troupe is on the ship or not, knowing it could risk the well-being of both woble and kurapika himself. (he also secretly gave melody clearance to try to save the twins.)

s plot: beyond netero is still in lock up and being watched by members of the zodiacs. he hasn’t done anything yet, but it has been implied he’ll try to escape at the fake “dark continent.”

t plot: ging and pariston have a group allied with beyond who are going to the dark continent themselves; ging joined because he knows pariston must be up to something. it remains ambiguous whether they have their own boat or are on the whale somewhere.

u plot: leorio and cheadle are working at an understaffed clinic near the zodiac headquarters, meaning that once again Leorio Is Just Offscreen

v plot: a random member of the cha-r is trying to get the autographs of the phantom troupe members. this has been used to dispense plot info about how far we are from being out of contact with land. pray for his success

TOTAL PLOTS COUNT: 22

#hxh personal tag #hxh spoilers #mcp spoilers #long post -#idk if people still tag for that but i think the vibe of this post requires a lack of read more.#i drafted this post originally in july lmao #i had to remove the bullet points. tumblr wouldnt let me have them.

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autistic-shaiapouf · 1 year ago

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Snugglebug

7.2k words

It's a pouf × reader (gender neutral) fluff fic because I'm gay for a bug 💖

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It was essentially a date night. He didn't call it such, of course, but there was truly nothing else to call it. He wanted to watch a movie with you, a cheesy romcom you'd heard of in passing but never bothered to see, but upon seeing how his face lit up as he described it to you, you knew you couldn't say no to him.

He'd even dressed for the occasion, a pink sweater two sizes too large slipping over his hands and hanging well down his legs. You hadn't immediately put the pieces together, only thinking adoringly at the time that he'd taken an extra step to try to look cute for you, but realized partway into the film that the clothing had a real utility to it. He'd left the windows open to let in the cool night air - the sweater was meant to keep his cold blooded body warm enough to stay awake, while keeping the windows open to view the stars and let the breeze in to keep you comfortable as well.

He was thoughtful, for certain. He'd laid out a few snacks for the two of you to share; granted, it seemed as though he'd only realized late into his preparation that he wanted to provide some, seeing as he'd only given you an entire plate of fruits, but he'd taken time to finely chop and dice them into neat little squares. Diced apples, strawberries, mangoes, and a few local fruits you couldn't fully identify, all arranged artfully across a wooden serving platter. He'd placed it on a coffee table near the couch, moved almost too close to ensure neither of you would have to reach very far. You took a seat close to one of the ends of the couch, with Pouf picking a spot close nearby, as close as he could get without actively touching you.

He'd held the remote excitedly, fumbling with the buttons to turn the screen on. He'd spoken quickly while he worked, almost rambling as he discussed how glad he was that you wanted to see the movie, that you were sure to love it, that the central couple was absolutely perfect for the plot concept, which was absolutely brilliant, a work of fine cinema. He seemed to be stating anything and everything that came to his mind, and you knew he wasn't talking simply to hear himself speak - he found each thought he had to be worthwhile to share with you, even as they came to him rapid-fire. Sharing meant quite a lot to him - his music, his romcom, his room and food and thoughts, all of it privy to you. Though he was initially quite chatty, he quieted almost immediately as soon as the movie began, his excitement practically tangible as he shook his hands in front of himself, unable to contain his passion.

After some time passed, you estimated you were roughly one third into the movie, using Pouf's various synopses as a guideline. You glanced over at him to find him enraptured, seeming to hang on to every line of dialogue as though he were working to memorize the entire film. You knew you would hear the plot of the movie rehashed tens of times again over the next few weeks, with him asking you about every aspect of it and how it made you feel, reliving his excitement and joy of having shared something so close to his heart with you. That's all there was to it, really. It made him happy and he was hoping to make you happy as well. It was so simplistic, coming from someone who tied his own mind into knots on the daily.

And in the dimmed light of the room, of course you were happy. He loved you above all else, and he'd gone above and beyond to demonstrate. He'd restructured the entire social order of the palace to include you, read into even the smallest of details you'd expressed to him; the greatest difficulty had been breaking down his walls to perform the same for him, and this night marked a massive stride in progress. He was becoming less reserved, wanting to share his life with you after allowing you to become a part of it. It was just an allowance at first, then a welcome that became increasingly warmer, to the point where you weren't certain he could ever let you go. When he'd fallen, he'd fallen hard, beginning to offer his own affections in a flurry of words and gestures, still too nervous to accept your own. His gestures had still been quite shallow - a hand on your shoulder, a general comment on your appearance - but it seemed that, as soon as he'd gotten a positive response, he let the gestures become deeper and flow more freely. Still with an almost unhealthy amount of thought attached, but accomplishing them regardless. It was part of what had brought you to this night, with him hoping above all that you were happy with it.

Of course you were happy. You loved him.

His eyes flickered off the screen for a moment to observe you, likely trying to determine if you were enjoying the film as much as he was (a nearly impossible task), and he froze upon realizing you'd been looking, gazing, admiring him instead. He was already so close to you, but in that moment scooted himself towards you just a bit more, pressing your thighs together, keeping his eyes on your own as he closed the distance. He was smiling so wide you could swear he was about to burst into tears of joy. He balled his hands into fists and placed them in his lap, stiffening his arms and raising his shoulders, shyly glancing away before suddenly leaning into you.

It was as though he'd simply let gravity take over, his head at an odd angle on your shoulder, his entire body stiff in the unfamiliar gesture you could only imagine he was praying he'd performed correctly. He didn't speak or voice any nervousness, but you could practically feel his rapid pulse with the little contact he had established. The gesture was so clumsy, you couldn't suppress a small chuckle, feeling his head shift as he turned to see what could have made you laugh. Uncertainty shown in his eyes, everything had gone so well until he'd made a gesture that may have been too much too soon, and now he'd made a fool of himself in front of you-

You slid your hand onto the small of his back, slipping under his wings and gauging his reaction to your touch. His eyes widened further at your response to his advancement; he gave no indication of wanting you to stop. You moved just a bit further, settling your hand on his waist. He was grinning almost madly, seeming to try to suppress his excitement at the reciprocation of his affections. You inched your hand onto the top of his thigh, fully resting your arm around him. He still felt tense beyond belief, the unfamiliarity of all the sensations making him almost comically awkward in his posturing.

".. Are you okay?" You kept your voice low - in spite of the adrenaline spike, he still seemed to focus on the movie.

"Do you want me to stop-?"

"No-!" His whisper was almost a hiss - he'd tried to get the words out as fast as possible. "No. Please don't." The words tumbled out in an almost frantic exhale as he tried to reassure you.

"Are you sure?"

A beat of silence

"... Yes, I am."

You could feel some of the tension in his back begin to loosen as he confirmed he was comfortable, having sat with the sensations long enough to adjust to them. Beginning to settle down, he hummed in contentment and readjusted his head, fully leaning into you and snuggling closer. You felt his shoulders begin to lower as he finally began to relax, though you could swear you still felt him trembling, the adrenaline from the advancement still fresh in his body.

And so you sat.

You sat with your lover to - no, on - your side, keeping one eye on the screen and the other on the way he kept fidgeting with his hands, still held in his lap. Every few minutes, he seemed to feel the need to readjust his posture, using the motion as an excuse to nuzzle his face back into the crook of your neck, a small satisfied sigh audible each time, without fail. He was definitely cute, that you'd always known - his odd quirks and mannerisms had been part of what had captured your heart. The way his voice was nearly monotone until something caught his attention and he suddenly came to life, the way he spoke with hand (and, on occasion, full body) gestures, the way it was so obvious when his smiles were polite versus the almost over exaggerated grins he displayed when he was really, truly happy; all of it made your heart skip. But to see him here, melting into your touch, was unlike anything you'd seen prior.

To say he struck you as nervous was a frank understatement. Every advancement he'd made towards you, even the smallest of gestures like complimenting an outfit or passing you a wildflower, seemed like it would send him directly into cardiac arrest. The very first gift he'd given you had indeed been a wildflower - something of a weed really, but perfectly formed with all petals intact. He'd stiffly extended his entire arm to offer the flower, anxiety visible in his eyes and in the sweat dotting his brow. You later learned that he'd been considering every possible outcome of his gesture, hammering in on every negative, of every chance for you to say no, to be disgusted, to turn away for good. He'd thought of it every single time, thinking whatever he did would finally be it, that your love was simply too good to be true, that you were merely toying with him, that one day, the curtains would fall unannounced partway through the act, leaving him alone and in the dark.

Frankly, it broke your heart.

Of course you knew risks were incurred with every relationship - continuing to pursue one with a chimera ant royal guard told you that well enough. Seeing him, in all his glory and power, be reduced to having such human fears and anxieties struck a chord in you. At the end of the day, in spite of it all, he was still subject to the same trials you were. You shared even ground on that front, and it was almost calming - no matter how different he seemed, you were still able to intuitively connect with him on a familiar level. At least, that's how it felt for the things you knew how to comfort; him coming to you crying about his king or screaming in rage over board games was something else entirely. Though, it was also a reminder that you never quite knew what to expect from him. Something that still rang true even in this moment as he curled up to you.

What was presumably the climax of the film was playing in front of you - neither of you had been paying it much attention. The main couple was arguing over what appeared to be a miscommunication, seeming to split for good before their assuredly dramatic reunion. In spite of Pouf explaining the plot to you time and time again, you still weren't entirely sure what the fight was about. Not that it mattered, anyways.

"That could never be us."

He'd spoken for the first time since the film started. You humored his quip.

"How so?"

"We're close enough to not need to resort to airing petty grievances; we simply speak."

He wasn't entirely exaggerating. He seemed to have an almost uncanny knack for honing in on what your true emotions were, no matter how much you would try to suppress any upset if it happened to cross your mind. You eventually stopped trying, becoming more open about how you felt with him. You found that you needed to tread carefully as you did so - he was so easy to upset it felt like a hassle to try, but with the right assurances, he could take the information in. You still felt a few minor struggles when it came to truly reading him - there were minor instances where he definitely seemed as though he were trying to hide something, but he also didn't seem to be the best liar. Trying to get him to actually discuss those feelings could feel like pulling teeth with him, but you'd been able to coax it out of him time and time again.

The two of you had put in an exorbitant amount of effort to become as synchronized as you were, with him always monitoring you for signs of distress and you keeping an eye on his rampant anxiety. While it occasionally felt almost overbearing with the way he observed you so closely and so consistently, it made sense in your eyes. He was an ant. He had little idea of how humans functioned and when he'd be crossing a line with his behaviors; his sheer insistence was his way of ensuring he wasn't breaking the boundaries you implicitly had as a human. His fears about upsetting you were palpable; you knew he had a tendency to overthink, to map out the consequences of everything, stilling himself into paralysis. And that was where you came in, pulling him out of the trenches of his worries and reassuring him that yes, you were comfortable, you were happy, you were just as in love. Close indeed.

Your heart leapt at his words, simple as they were. His efforts had been some of the most arduous; watching him cry as he struggled to articulate himself had been painful beyond belief, and being able to see him gradually become better at it with practice had been a reward in and of itself. You beamed, adoration and pride on full display in a gaze you delivered to your partner. Keeping your arm wrapped around him, you moved your hand from his leg to his arm, pulling him closer and turning to kiss the crown of his head, picking up on the faint scent of lavender in his hair. He giggled, turning towards you and shifting to wrap his arms around you, hugging you close and once more nuzzling into your neck. You returned the gesture with enthusiasm, giving him a tight squeeze as you did; he was too nervous to do the same for you - in spite of his spindly frame, his strength far surpassed your own. He instead settled for a loose grasp, just enough for you to feel the warmth from the thick fleece sweater; it almost felt as though he were wrapping you in a blanket.

He began to subtly, gently sway side to side, still holding you. Even in the small moments, his proclivity towards dance and motion still shone through. The motion was relaxing, slow and repetitive. He kept his face buried in your shoulder, his breathing evening out, hinting that his heart may have finally begun to slow to a standard resting rate. He was finally calming down, blissfully relaxing in your arms. You began to loosen your grip, feeling some slight tension in your arms from having held him so tightly for so long.

He also began to loosen what little grip he had on you, leaning back and gazing into your eyes. His own eyes shyly flickered away every few seconds, but the eye contact he briefly maintained was soft and dreamy. Still looking, eyes glinting in the light like gemstones, he moved. It was quite a subtle motion, but he had leaned in just a bit closer. A silent cue, you suspected. You tested the waters, beginning to close the space between the two of you. He smiled a bit wider, anticipation becoming visible in his expression, eyes shining even in the dim shifting lighting. You shifted your hands, moving them up to encircle his face, your fingertips dipping into his hair. His eyes fluttered shut, with your own following soon after. You leaned in and, after some slight hesitance to ensure he was still wanting, you closed the gap, gracing your lips against his own before finally settling into the kiss, the faint taste of strawberries still lingering on him.

His arms, initially wrapped around your waist, slipped away as he trailed his hands up your sides and over your shoulders, sliding them down and across your back as he encircled you by the shoulders. He melted into your touch, sinking into the kiss gradually, fluid as a drop of honey and just as sweet. Even with the thick sweater, his insect nature still shone through - he was still noticeably cold to the touch, as though he'd just been chewing on ice. It was just another draw towards him - part of an odd natural charm, alongside his wings and antennae.

He held you close, near and dear, drawing the act out as long as he could, a certain decadence present in his lips, soft and cool as silk, pressed to your own. He returned for more and more, almost afraid to stop, lest the magic vanish for good. As you began to feel yourself begin to become lightheaded, you felt him finally begin to break away, his chest rising against you with a sudden inhale; he slowly let the air out, his eyes fluttering open, batting his lashes at you as he met your eyes once more. Your lover regarded you with nothing short of adoration. You were responsible for the sun in the sky, for each individual star, radiating the very same warmth to him, the greatest need for his cold blooded body, the very thing waking him from stasis. He leaned back in, nuzzling your face.

"... You are everything I could have ever wished for..."

He delivered affection with no hesitation. That was almost never an issue for him; he definitely put a bit too much thought into how his larger gestures would be received, wanting them to be enacted with perfection and precision, but in the most general sense he loved nothing more than to dote over you. Still fairly early into your relationship, he had held some reservations, but after witnessing your positive reception, he moved without hesitation. Delivering was only a minor issue - it was the reception that always threw him into a tailspin.

The very first time you motioned to hold his hand, he seemed as though he was about to have a heart attack. You of course registered this as a large gesture as well - an open display of PDA between the two of you. He'd found it quite easy to sneak quick kisses to you, to lace your fingers between his own, to pull you into an impromptu waltz, but as soon as you returned the favor, he appeared to be left in shock. Being on the receiving end of love seemed to be something completely foreign to him.

You had made it your personal mission to habituate him.

It had taken time, but he was growing more accepting of it. His initial fluster and discomfort had been because he simply did not feel worth your time or love. It was something he had expressed to you quite explicitly, telling you as you returned kind words or gentle touches that someone like him simply wasn't deserving. You had a suspicion that he still didn't quite believe that he was worth all the time and effort you'd invested with him, but he no longer voiced objections and welcomed your gestures, so you'd felt that that constituted a great deal of progress in and of itself.

It was absolutely invaluable, seeing him become more comfortable not just with you, but with himself as well.

The room suddenly went dark. Both of you turned in unison to see that the movie had ended. Neither of you had actually caught the ending. Pouf seemed almost embarrassed - he'd praised it so highly for weeks on end, and then completely disregarded it in favor of you.

"Did you.. enjoy it?" He paused, knowing full you had also found yourself a little distracted.

".. I think we might have to watch it again." While you didn't find yourself all that drawn to it (from what you did remember seeing), you wanted to genuinely try to watch it for his sake.

Even in the dim light, you could faintly see him blush.

"Yes, we certainly should." He said it with certainty, making it sound more like a promise than a suggestion. At any and all costs, you would view this romcom in its entirety, distractions and all. He spoke again.

"Are you comfortable?" It was a general question - were you hungry? Tired? Cold? You'd gathered over time that it was his shorthand way of covering all questions pertaining to your needs, as to not irritate you by asking one thing after another.

"Maybe I'm a little cold."

In truth, you were quite comfortable - being wrapped in his sweater had staved off the worst of the drafts. You had said it as something of a joke, forgetting his tendency to take such statements seriously; the words had barely left you when he'd begun to shimmy out of the sweater, tucking his wings back in through the collar and slipping it over his head.

"Lift your arms." He looked at you quite seriously, holding the oversized pink sweater. You kept your arms close to yourself, lifting them enough to bring your hands even with your face. He held the bottom of the sweater open and gently pulled it down over you, a soft and warm smile lighting him up, even in the dim light of the rolling movie credits. You slid your hands through the sleeves, feeling your fingertips barely make it out of the sweater. You immediately felt yourself beginning to warm up, the open window and cooling desert air no longer presenting a concern.

"You look adorable."

His voice was drenched in saccharine; when he loved, he loved with his entire being, and it was plain to see that particular force at work. One could have called him a hopeless romantic, but with his relationship fully realized, he was nothing but hopeful, despair having fully become gratitude. For as nervous as being loved could make him feel, it was one of, if not the best thing to have ever happened to him. The security he felt with you was practically unparalleled - he knew he could come to you for comfort, for any solace at all from the obsessive thoughts that plagued him. As much as the feelings were new and nervewracking, they were exhilarating. You loved him, you *lloved him, you loved him. He very thought made him giddy and lightheaded, such simple joy!

Such simple joy in seeing you in his clothes, calm in his presence. You'd kissed him. You'd kissed him and it was the closest he'd come to feeling real magic. This was all known to you - both from his own words and from a somewhat cruel prank his brothers played which had involved you seeing a rather fervent excerpt from his diary, all free space on the page dotted with hearts.

The kisses and holding him close had probably been enough to satisfy him for the night, but you felt just the slightest bit curious as to how he would respond if you gave him just a bit more.

He was still blushing at you, for certain. You couldn't see it now in the low light, but you felt absolutely certain that, if you cupped his face in your hands once more, your hands might actually be colder than him. He hadn't dressed any differently underneath the sweater - still the same high waisted dress pants, the same dress shirt with its collar evocative of a butterfly's wings. Still the same nervous-in-love man you'd fallen for.

He hadn't always been as sweet as he'd been this evening - he'd been quite cold and rude to you in the beginning, later confessing to you how unsure he had felt with his new feelings towards you, a human, of all things. Nerves, disgust, and above all else, domineering fear, had been the primary facets of his emotional landscape, and with you appearing to be responsible for them, he'd wanted you gone. He'd changed his mind just as quickly, confronting the depths of his affections and taking a massive risk - his own king kept a human he was quite fond of, surely this couldn't destroy his status, could it? He found that the only poor outcome of his pursuance was an entire new category of teasing from his siblings, about his increasingly poorly hidden crush, about how "in loooove" he was, the words always drawn out in a singsong voice. He'd deny it to them, of course, he had at least some dignity left to preserve, after all.

He couldn't deny to himself how you charmed him, how the mere mention of your name granted his full attention, oh you? Were you here? Did you want to see him? It was maddening, the way his heart had been tugged and yanked, the way it was threatened to be torn asunder if he never received an answer from you. He knew his pain was largely self inflicted, but had been powerless to stop it until you two began your waltz around one another. He was aware of courtship, idealized it to heaven and back, but the execution was nervewracking; were you enjoying the gifts or merely being polite? He cherished yours. He cherished you, of course fearing you may not feel the same. As the sun's heat lifts fog, his fears dissipated when that waltz had evolved into a slow dance, the warmth seeping into every area of his life.

Oh, how he adored you.

The room suddenly became darker. The credits had finished and the screen had shut off, leaving the two of you silently staring at each other in near darkness, dim silvery starlight trickling in with the breeze from the open window. Pouf suddenly seemed embarrassed.

"I completely lost track of the time..! You must be exhausted-"

"No!" You didn't want him to feel bad about such a good night. You also knew he would probably call you out for lying.

"... I'm just a little tired." You'd also lost track of the time. You fished your phone from your pocket and checked the clock as it flashed up. 1:37AM. Had the movie really been that long? Truthfully, you considered the most likely culprit: the excitement both of you had had for this evening, delaying the meet up for more time to prepare, not noticing the late start until it has brought both of you to this early hour.

"I think I'll stay over here for the night." He would've walked you home, flown you even. He would've viciously fought the desert cold to ensure your safety; you didn't want him to feel he had to. He also would have complained the entire time, his heart wrenching at the thought of having to let you go for a bit. You were finding yourself quite comfortable on the couch, in the sweater, with your partner at your side.

"I'll prepare a bed-" You reached out and took him by the shoulders.

"Actually, I'm comfortable right here."

"Don't be silly, it won't be long-"

"And where will you sleep?" You knew there wasn't an extra bed - the one he'd prepare for you would be his own.

"I don't mind this couch-"

"Well, neither do I."

He fell silent. Were you trying to shrug off his good will? Or was there something deeper being implied in your words that he was simply missing?

You took one of the throw pillows on the couch, something too plush to be a throw, and set it in the corner closest to you before leaning half your weight onto it. You smiled up at him, genuinely becoming quite settled and comfortable on the couch. He still didn't seem so certain; you considered taking a leap, feeling your heart start to pound as you pondered your words.

"I could.. show you how comfortable the couch is."

Nailed it.

He stared blankly back at you. "I've sat here before, I know what it feels like..?" His voice rose at the end of his sentence, genuinely confused by your statement.

"No, uh, let me. show you-" Your response was stilted, awkward pauses scattered throughout. Pouf wasn't dense. He was far from it. He was an incredibly intelligent man, a mind as quick and bright as a flash of lightning. It all fell apart as soon as social dynamics came into play. He struggled with subtext, with tone, with reading emotions without the use of his nen. You would have to be direct with him, stating your intention without hiding it behind your embarrassment of actually asking him for the innocent query that was on your mind.

"... I don't understand what you mean." You begged yourself to just speak up, to tell him what was on your mind. It wasn't even anything excessive - you'd already held him close during the movie. Just ask. Speak up.

"I want to show you that it's comfortable on the couch!" This was not your finest moment. You were stalling.

You took a deep breath.

"I want.. to ask you something." He straightened up immediately. You completely forgot how saying something so vague would set his anxieties alight.

"It's nothing bad," you quickly added. He didn't respond, confused by the barrage of vague words and unreadable signals.

"Are you okay? If you want to leave-"

"I don't!" Oh my god, you couldn't do this. You looked over him. His hands were folded in his lap, even in the low light it was still visible that he was digging his nails into his hands. His expression could be mistaken for vacant if you didn't know him as well as you did. He was in frantic thought, trying to find where he'd gone wrong after such a seemingly successful evening.

The time was passing. You inhaled, gathered resolve, steeled yourself-

"Do you want to cuddle?"

The words didn't even seem to come from you with the way they had slurred together in your nervousness. He was no different - his response was a shrill sound, something almost like a squeak, as both his hands flew to his face, covering his mouth.

A heavy silence settled over you. Having to be so forward felt almost humiliating. Pouf seemed to also be embarrassed for having missed every cue you'd tried to put in front of him. Though, it was admittedly something you very much liked about him. He never made assumptions, always waiting for confirmation instead. It was quite polite, the way he would consistently wait for consent - to make an advancement, to enter an occupied room, to wait until you said you liked something before immediately snatching it up as a future gift. He was moving towards spontaneity - if anything, this evening had been proof of that - but his fear of accidentally making you uncomfortable kept that behavior largely in check. He almost seemed to refuse to read subtext as a result.

Granted, you didn't feel you had been giving off very clear cues.

His gaze fell to his hands. ".. How do you want to do this?"

You scooted to the side of the couch, closer to the edge, then lifted your hands to him, arms fully outstretched. You gave a sheepish smile, offering up the newly opened space to him. He still seemed unsure.

"You're so close to the edge, you'll fall if you lie there." The concern was evident in his voice.

"I think I'll be okay." Your voice was full of warmth as you coaxed him into lying down. He leaned over you, resting himself on his hands as he looked down over you; he was visibly beginning to shrink away as soon as he'd moved closer.

"Are you sure?" His voice had dropped to a whisper.

"Yes." You could see he was smiling as he asked the question, as shaky and tense as he seemed. He was glad you'd asked - you know he almost never would have worked up the courage to ask you himself. Too much to consider, too many variables to account for.

He clumsily lowered himself into the gap between yourself and the back of the couch, moving slowly to disturb you as little as possible. You brought your arms back down as he began to settle, lying on his side with his arms bent close to his chest. He kept his legs straight, trying to not make too much contact between himself and you, a difficult task with how almost comically long his legs were. You turned to your side as well, your head even with his. He was still grinning, almost a little too widely - he was still visibly nervous about being invited into much more intimate quarters with you.

You weren't going to pretend you weren't nervous either. You'd always returned to your own home to sleep, even as Pouf would protest and plead with you to stay; you suspected that he didn't actually know what he would've done if you'd said yes. He would make his bed for you and take the couch, not realizing you may have had a bit more on your mind if you had agreed to stay the night. It was almost odd, he was so close to you, but you couldn't feel any body heat coming from him. He would only cool further with the open window lulling him to sleep.

The two of you stared at one another in silence.

"So.. do you come here often?" You just needed the silence to break in any way possible. He let out a small amused exhale.

"Yes.. I may even live here."

You smiled almost a bit too much at him not missing the joke this time. He would claim that you never made it clear that you were joking, your delivery was too serious and genuine and he simply could never tell.

"I didn't think what I said was that funny.."

You spoke through soft laughter. "No, it's just that..." What were you going to say? It was just what? That he was being cute? That you loved him? That you'd gladly spend every night for the rest of your life with him, just like this?

"You're just... cute, is all."

He immediately shifted, angling his head to look above and away from you, bringing his hands just a bit closer to himself.

"You even moreso." He seemed to say it almost impulsively, as soon as the words had come to him. He'd glanced briefly back at you as he spoke before his eyes immediately darted off in the other direction. God, he was cute.

Your hands were rested next to your face, similar to where his initially had been when he'd first settled. Once he began to relax after his compliment, you could see his eyes shift from empty space, to your face, down to your hands. He stared quite hard, almost as if afraid you might move. He took a deep breath. He played it off, letting it out slowly. He inhaled again.

"...May I.. May I-" His eyes shifted back to your own, "-please.. hold your hand?" The words were awkwardly spaced and almost too quiet for you to hear, but the request was clear enough for you to understand.

"Of course." Your reply was in the same gentle lull he had spoken with. After your affirmation, he reached out, bridging the very short gap between the two of you, laying his fingertips on your hand first. You felt almost shocked at how cold his touch was. His hands were usually cool, but they felt nearly ice cold in that moment. He lowered the rest of his hand, sliding his fingers around the back of your hand, his thumb curling over from the opposite side. You folded your fingers inward, brushing them over his own.

He smiled in bliss. It took very little to make him feel truly happy; anything that demonstrated your love to him was prioritized in his mind above all else. Your affections were one of the few things his anxieties couldn't touch. For certain, he still held fears about the relationship as a whole, but many of them had eased with time. He felt certain you weren't going to leave him, that your affections were genuine, that you saw him, really saw him and loved what you saw. And in that moment, all of that broke upon like a wave breaking onto a shoreline.

You could see tears in his eyes, glistening in the starlight. He smiled just as widely as he had been, looking into your eyes as he loosely held your hand.

"I love you.." He was barely audible as he confessed. He had never said the words to you. It was clear and evident to anyone who saw the two of you that you loved each other deeply, and of course you'd shown each other that love in a variety of ways. Words weren't his strong suit - he struggled greatly with articulation when it came to emotions. To see him able to pull it all together, for even this brief moment, was absolutely priceless. It was a memory you would treasure long after the night was over.

You felt tears begin to sting your own eyes.

"I love you too."

His tears fell, quick streaks of shining silver down the side of his face. He'd summoned everything he'd had in himself to physically say the words to you, and you'd returned them with no hesitation. His vulnerability had been rewarded almost immediately with validation, he couldn't help but begin to cry in joy.

You yawned.

You didn't mean to break up such a deeply tender moment, but sleep had been creeping up to you since the movie had finished. Pouf's demeanor immediately changed.

"I'm sorry, I forgot how late it was-"

"Oh, hush."

The tears were still bright on his face. Of course he was concerned for you, it was what he did best. He didn't need as much sleep, as much food, could withstand heavier hits. He treated you as though you were made of glass, constantly checking in to make sure you've eaten enough, that you've slept enough, that him putting a hand on your shoulder hadn't been too rough. He struggled to understand human needs, but he'd be damned if he didn't do his best to try to meet them. You knew his mood would start to fall again if you let him think he was depriving you of a basic need.

"I am getting a little tired.. goodnight?" You deliberately phrased it as a question, giving him a chance to give his own thoughts.

His eyes softened.

"Goodnight."

You could tell that didn't seem to be all.

He was searching for words again, loosening his grip on your hand.

"I would like to.." He stopped entirely. "May I.." He paused again. He seemed to he struggling with the same embarrassment you had confronted earlier. You knew whatever he wanted was innocuous. You two had already gotten handsy an hour ago, it wasn't as though there was anything more nervewrackingly intimate he could look you in the eyes to ask for.

"... Goodnight kiss?" He said the words to put them on the table, dropping the entire first half of the sentence. You flashed him a dreamy smile.

"Of course."

You moved your hand, with him immediately letting go as you brought it to rest on his cheek, leaning in, lifting your head and resting it closer to him, softly pressing your lips to his, feeling him reciprocate. The moment was wrapped in a haze from your exhaustion, yet it stood out like a vivid dream you didn't want to end. You pulled away, a silly thought forming in the back of your mind.

"Hold on, I don't think I did that right, let me try again." You immediately went back in for a second kiss, hearing him softly laugh before he sank back into your touch.

"Hm.. maybe one more, just to make sure."

You felt his hand slide onto your own cheek, mimicking the position you held your own on his face. Your hand slid up, just enough to tangle your fingers in his hair, feeling the way the soft locks parted with your touch. You could dimly feel him move his legs over and between your own, tangling them together. He broke away for a brief moment, mumbling against your lips a small statement, an almost inaudible, "I want to hold you", to which you happily obliged, moving just enough for him to slip his other hand beneath you, wrapping his arm around your torso. For as intimate as the two of you were in that moment, it wasn't particularly heated - both of you were beginning to succumb to your exhaustions. You felt yourself beginning to drop off as he slowed, pressing a few more lazy kisses to your mouth; you smiled against his lips as he finally broke away, nuzzling your face as a final loving gesture.

You spoke first, "I love you."

He smiled, full of warmth in spite of the cold room.

"I love you too." The way he worded it was almost unlike him. You would've expected to hear "as well" or "also", but he kept the phrasing conventional, exactly as he would have read about it. Exactly as you would've expected to hear. Perfect, just for you.

He removed his hand from your cheek, moving it along your back as he wrapped you in his other arm as well, pulling you closer. You grinned as you had one last thought about making the night unforgettable for him.

You yawned once more, asking, "Hey, do you still want to cuddle?" You took your hand off of his face and gently tapped your own chest. He hummed in confusion, not understanding the gesture. You shifted your posture as he loosened his grip enough to allow you to move, scooting yourself a bit farther up the couch, bringing your head near the top of the pillow. He watched you with a dim, drowsy curiosity. When you settled, you lazily lifted your arms to him.

"Come here."

His eyes widened enough for him to appear fully alert once more.

"Are you certain?"

Always the gentleman.

"Mm-hm."

He let go of the awkward grip he had on you, repositioning his hands as he moved to lay his head on your chest, hesitating for a moment but replaying your reassurance in the back of his mind. He rested his head against you, motioning to hug you again, snuggling into you as you also pulled him close. You bowed your head, picking up that faint lavender scent again, kissing him one final time.

"Goodnight lovebug."

A lovestruck giggle.

"Goodnight... Goodnight." You had been able to immediately seize the low hanging fruit for a pet name; he hadn't gotten quite so far yet.

You could feel his breathing already beginning to level out as he fell asleep in your arms, feeling yourself about to do the same. His heart had beaten so fast when he cuddled up to you, and now it had calmed in his respite. You'd seen his bed and the multitude of pillows and stuffed animals he kept on it (he swore he wasn't attached to the animals - you swore he was a terrible liar). He seemed just as comfortable using you as a pillow. You weren't going to keep awake for much longer, using your last handful of spare minutes to imagine the scene, the way he fully curled into you, arms wrapped and legs tangled, wings trailing behind him down the length of the couch, his head positioned just so that his antennae were kept aloft. An unbelievably powerful insect, fueled by loyalty and devotion, the depths of which you could scarecely even begin to imagine, an absolutely fearsome creature indeed - on a couch, snuggled up with his favorite human, already lapsing into a dream. In spite of it all, you two seemed to make the impossible a reality. It was what you got for dating an artist, a dreamer.

A dream that would carry on long after the morning sun arose.

#putting this on my main blog let's go skdhksk #yes pouf is weird and obsessive but consider. consider the above. consider: he is pretty #hxh #hunter x hunter #shaiapouf #i dont really write on main so i dont have a personal tag for this lmao #anyways. no one look at me ksjdkdkd

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