Cain × gn!reader : one in which you two are in a holy place but all you keep thinking about is kissing him again heh
Cw : None
I had no patience with this bc i wanna write about genesis and lottie so....take this unfinished drabble BYE
🦇
You lean over his shoulder from behind to take a better look. While a few months ago Cain would have stiffened and recoiled, muttering something about his “personal space,” this Cain does the slightest movement with his head, leaning it to the side for better access. It was small, almost unrecognizable, something you couldn't pinpoint without Cain's hackles rising and you just sounding utterly insane.
So instead you said nothing.
Your eyes focused on the cracked frame, the blank eyes of a saint staring back at you. But you paid no attention, your gaze slightly unfocusing as you steadily inhaled, disguising it as a breath. A mix of warm wood and sweet spices– myrrh. It filled your nose, coating the roof of your tongue down to the back of your throat in its heaviness. You fought every impulsive thought to not turn your head and bury your face in Cain's exposed throat. Instead you refocused your gaze back to the cracked frame- but only for a moment, before your gaze moved back to Cain. A moth to a flame.
“What are we looking at?” You murmur quietly glancing at Cain's profile. From this angle, you could take a closer look at his scar on his lower jaw and the rough jagged line marking his lip. You tried to shift your eyes higher up.
Cain didn't answer for several beats, eyes glued to the cracked frame, lips pursued. An unscarred corner lifted up as his hand found the cross resting against his chest, his thumb playing with the smooth metal; a grounding habit you came to find too endearing, especially after that night when you two were sprawled over your bedroom floor, reading, when one thing had led to another. Cain basically admitted to chains being too overstimulating so he had added his cross to his favourite jacket. You had kissed him that night and had personally felt that jagged line under your own lips. Felt the scar, his lips becoming still, the hands that had grabbed your shoulders and then had hastily pushed you away–
“Are you even listening?” Cain's irritated voice cut through the haze of your thoughts. You lifted your gaze to find his dark gaze focused on you, eyes narrowed in irritation.
“Why waste your breath asking me what I am looking at if you will zone out a second later?” He huffed slowly before moving away from you suddenly, making you feel much colder. You don't see his grip on his cross tightening.
“I am listening.” You murmured as you followed closely behind him. You wanted to be close to him again.
“I highly doubt that.”
“Hm.” A soft hum left your lips as you watched Cain move to the next frame. His eyes studied the next framed painting of a Saint that you genuinely had no idea of who the hell it could be. Most likely just some old man who did some nice things and suddenly the people decided he was worth praying too.
A flicker of irritation licked at your expression for a beat before your eyes focused on Cain again. He didn't even glance at you, but you knew that he knew that you were actively staring–
“I was thinking you know,” you start off.
“Dont hurt yourself.” Cain responded, his voice smug. He was still not looking at you.
“Ha ha” You murmured dryly, rolling your eyes before you came to stand beside him, this time as opposed behind him. That made him finally glance your way in irritation yet again and that flicker of irritation you felt earlier turned into something warmer.
His dark eyes, usually restless, usually darting away before anyone could catch them lingering, remained fixed on you this time. They were somehow darker in the dim light, slightly softened by the glow filtering through the broken windows. Long lashes cast faint shadows beneath tired eyes that always seemed as though sleep had only ever brushed past him. The thin scar crossing his cheek pulled ever so slightly when he spoke.
This time his expression gave almost nothing away but his voice did. “You are even weirder than usual and that's saying a lot.”
Your eyes stayed glued with his and finally you relented giving a soft private smile as you walked past him, giving him a slight bump when you passed his shoulder.
A beat passed when Cain spoke again this time softer as he glanced at your back now "So what were you thinking?"
"I suddenly forgot..." You hummed softly turning to glance at him, your eyes dipped to his lips once and lifted back up to his eyes. You saw him freeze but paid no attention, this time it was your turn to turn to some framed old man and stare at him in silence. From the corner of your eye you saw Cain shuffle on his feet unsure for beat and too and slowly make his way to you.
"Tell me who this is," You lean closer "I will pay attention this time promise."
calm!reader and her loud and dramatic boyfriend, tengen uzui ˚.✦
“I am NOT going,” Tengen comes back from his wardrobe still in just boxers and half painted eyeliner. He sits on the edge of the bed, arms crossed over his chest and a pout.
“Mm?” you lift your head from your book, you finish getting ready for this party about twenty minutes ago, full make up, hair and outfit, everything ready. “What happened, my love?”
He looks at you from over his shoulder, the pout growing bigger (definitely not to pity him). “I can’t find a good outfit. Nothing worthy of standing beside you tonight. Nothing!”
You tilt your head, pressing your lips in a kind smile and scooting over behind him. You rub his chest, your nails raking through it and him melting into it. “Go search a little more, c’mon. You have a lot of clothes.”
“Hm…” He pretends to think about it, although he’s just trying to keep himself in your arms, when you pat his chest, he gets up instantly. “Okay, I’ll go!”
A few moments later he finds the perfect purple shirt for his outfit and asks you to help him finish his make up only to have you in his lap, as close as possible.
You and him always arrive to parties late (his fault) and leave parties early (your fault). He’s the center of attention every goddamn time, telling stories to people he just met, his arms slash through the air, people crowd around him, laughing, gasping at every exaggerated detail.
But when he sees you sitting on a couch not too far away from him (for him it feels like miles away), sipping on your drink while you stare at his ass, he shushes all the people, announcing that he has to go back to his partner because he can’t function well without you.
“Oh my god, Tengen,” you say, with a flustered laugh because you could hear him perfectly. He’s already sat by your side, arm around your waist and pulling you closer. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“But I want to,” he says, close to your ear as he leaves kisses on your cheek. “I love the look on your face when I talk about you.”
“You scream about me,” you remind him, squeezing his arm and laying your cheek on his shoulder.
He notices your little sigh and how your body relaxes when he’s pressed to you. He draws little patterns on your arm, letting you a few moments of physical contact before saying: “Do you wanna go home? These people are boring.”
You lift your gaze, blinking slowly. “You were laughing a few moments ago, Tengen.”
“I was laughing at my own jokes, let’s get out of here.” He grabs your hand, lifting you easily and pulling you across the dancefloor.
He always knows when you’re done for the night, and when you’re done, he is too.
Tengen has this burst of love and intensity where he lays on top of you, purposefully trapping you below his body because he’s way taller and stronger that you and makes you look straight into his eyes while he tells you:
“I would die for you,” he declares. “I would burn down entire cities, shatter the heavens themselves if it meant keeping you safe. You are my goddess, my everything. Without you, I am nothing but noise in an empty world.”
You lie there beneath him, used to these sudden storms of his affection. Your hands rest calmly on his back, fingers tracing slow circles over his muscles as he keeps talking, eyes never leaving yours.
“Every breath I take is for you,” he continues, voice rising with passion. “I worship the ground you walk on. You calm the chaos inside me. I would kneel for you, fight for you, live every second like it is my last just to see you smile. My love, my partner, my only peace. Tell me you know how deeply I adore you. Say it.”
A warm flush creeps up your neck and across your cheeks, he is so intense, so extra, turning a simple moment on the couch into something epic and overwhelming. Yet you cannot help but adore him for it.
You meet his eyes without looking away, your voice soft and even. “I know, Tengen. You tell me every day.”
He groans dramatically, burying his face in your neck for a second before pulling back to trap you with his stare again. “Not enough! Words are never enough for what I feel. I want to shout it from the rooftops until the whole city knows you own me completely. You are the silence I crave after every battle. I would lay down my swords, my pride, my life for one more moment like this with you.”
You smile quietly, sliding your fingers up into his silver hair and tugging gently to settle him. Even pinned under his massive frame, you feel safe, loved in the loud, all-consuming way only he can give. “I love you too, by the way,” you whisper into his hair. “Even when you’re loud as fuck.”
He lifts his head fast, gasping and leaning to fill your face with kisses. You burst out laughing because it tickles, “Tengen!”
“Mm, I love you tooooo,” he sings, now licking your cheeks between kisses.
“Ew! Tengen, you’re gross!” You try to push his face away except you’re not really applying any force, you’re just giggling as he hugs you tighter and kisses you slower, now trapping your lips in a soft and wet kiss.
Warnings: A lot of talk about childbirth, labor, and possibly inaccurate medical terms. Mentions of storing and freezing the placenta. Segments using swear words and being involved with the delivery (except 8, he's a minor). Segment 35 (Omega), being a little possessive and self-centered as always. No smut, but mentioned and implied nsfw.
Sitting in the labor room, you held the red scarlet-eyed baby in your arms, stroking the infant's tuft of blue hair every now and then. Segment 8, or "Little Doctor" as you like to call him, leaned over the side to look at the newborn, an innocent sort of curiosity brimming in his very own pair of red eyes.
Your baby was born healthy, looking just like a mix of both you and Zandik. He'd helped deliver it himself, muttering about how he trusted no one but him to take the task upon himself.
Well, technically, it was just Segment 25 who helped with the main task; the others volunteered themselves with other stuff, such as weighing the baby, stitching your tears up, cleaning the blood, storing your placenta and umbilical cord for research purposes, etc.
All the segments insisted on helping out, even Little Doctor, who unfortunately had to sit outside for most of the labor but was eventually allowed in to see the baby and check on you. Everyone's main goal was to ensure the mother and newborn were both safe and healthy.
Now that everything was successfully executed, you and the newborn were both taking a small, well-earned nap. All the adult segments turned to look at one another with suspicion.
Who the fuck was the baby's real father?
They all had slept with you, came inside of you, so the possibility that one of them was the father was 20%.
Except they were all Zandiks.
They all had the same DNA, the same blood. They might as well all be identical twins, if identical twins were all the segment of a man who died a century ago.
"Well? What were we all even expecting? That the baby would be born, and we could take a DNA test to verify the paternity? We all share the same blood dipshits. Ever thought of that?" Segment 18 spat out, looking at the other older segments after they'd all stepped out.
Segment 25 merely took off his mask and gloves, opting to let the other Segments deal with the guy instead.
"We were hoping to keep the peace until the baby was born to keep our Lady's pregnancy smooth. You know she gets troubled when we all get into unnecessary fights." Segment 65 explained, stepping closer to your door to make sure it was locked in case their argument woke you up. "A miscarriage would've been tragic. Besides, we all had our own goals to accomplish during this period. I doubt Omega is going to let you have a share of the placenta."
Omega, or Segment 35, who snuck off to the side to keep your placenta in a freezer, shot them all a dirty look. "How rude! Preserving the placenta has it's benefits-"
"We never said it didn't. But must you be so greedy as to keep it for yourself?" Segment 45 cuts off.
"-because I am the most research-oriented out of all of us, one who shall produce the most fulfilling results. In case of a genetic disease or a tumor, it will prove to be very useful." He preened
"You talk as if you're the real father." scoffs Segment 18.
"Well, of course I am. Who else but I could produce such brilliant progeny."
The comment riled up Segment 18, who walked up to Omega's face, his sharp teeth bare, "So sure of yourself, aren't you, old man? You sure your sperm can even swim that far? Your cock get that hard? Well, getting erect would be no problem for such a beauty; however, I bet her fallopian tubes shriveled the moment you got in you son of a-"
"Alright, alright. There's no need to stir up a ruckus right here," said Segment 25, wiping his hands dry on a towel, clearly the most tired of them all.
Unlike the other Segments, he had to be on-call and close to you that day, and hence had stayed by you till the moment you had pushed the baby out. "She's still inside, sleeping, taking a well-earned nap before one of us has to wake her from her blissful slumber in two hours to take her vitals again. Not to mention, we will need to attend to my newborn as well. For now, we could all take a moment, Segment 8 will alert us should anything happen-"
"What do you mean, 'my newborn'?" Segment 45 butts in, "You didn't even try to debate whether the child is yours or not."
"Well, of course, because it is mine. Only fools fight over what's not theirs-"
"Get a load of this asshole-"
"Can we all take this somewhere else, the baby might wake up-"
"Dottore!" a voice booms from down the hall, along with the sound of multiple footsteps.
All Segments turned around to see The Regrator, Pantalone, along with a few Fatui agents carrying many boxes and bags with them.
"I believe congratulations are in order? How is the missus and the baby?" asked Pantalone.
"Who let this guy know about her labor? I thought we were to keep this information from the other Harbingers," sneered Segment 25.
"And you certainly did, I assure you. No one other than me knows about this little joy of yours. I only happened to find out about this because the 8-year-old segment seemed quite anxious about not being let into the operating room. Seeing as you did not hesitate to let him watch the dissection of the original Zandik, my only conclusion about not allowing him in the operating room was that your wife was giving birth. That, and the fact I hadn't seen her for quite some time. Seemed easy to deduce." The Regrator stated, shrugging and rustling his fur coat.
"And what if it was a surgery like, say, an appendectomy? What use are the gifts then?" Segment 18 pointed out.
"Then I believe that you must get started on producing a progeny, no? Anyway, I've brought a few tokens of goodwill. I hope you'll accept them from a friend."
"Leave them out here. She's sleeping, and we'd rather not disturb her or the baby." Segment 65 said, pointing towards a table for the gifts to be kept. "We'll let her know of them as soon as she's able to concern herself with things other than herself and the baby. I hope you understand she's not in the condition to receive guests at the moment."
"That's alright." The Regrator signed his agents to keep the presents on the table and take their leave.
"Speaking of not disturbing the baby, though, what were all of you arguing about? Well, it's not rare to see each of you in disagreement with the other. Rather, it happens pretty often to be rare. But an opportunity that brings all of you together to have such a conflict......."
"We were discussing who the real father of the baby is," said Segment 18.
Pantalone nodded in understanding.
"I'd hardly call that a discussion. But does it truly matter? All of you are the same person, and hence, similar at your core. I'm sure the child would benefit from having multiple parental figures. I wouldn't call it a major issue."
"It is." Said all the Zandiks there in unison.
"Dear Feofan, it seems you still don't understand us all, even when you are a dear friend of ours. We all may be derived of the same Zandik, but as Dottore, we're all different," Omega explained, "Our values, our approach to research, our research, and our view of this world, they all differ due to the number of memories we carry. Determining the true father is determining whose legacy will be carried on. It isn't as simple as 'raising a child'."
".......so it has to do with your ego," Pantalone cheeked.
"How rude, I have genuine affection towards my wife and my child," said Omega.
"There he goes again," Segment 45 groaned, rolling his eyes.
"Oh my god, it's MY baby you twat," argued Segment 18.
"Well, you're certainly not raising my child with that mouth of yours," said Segment 65 calmly.
"Gents, gents," Pantalone raised his hands, trying to mitigate and calm down all the Dottores before it would escalate, lest they end up dissecting another one of them again.
"I have a solution. How about you solve this the way you know best? You're all intelligent and highly educated individuals; surely you can come to a conclusion amongst yourselves."
All the Zandiks looked at each other, as if they had never considered that idea.
"Determining the father of the baby through research. We can't do a DNA test, but....." mused Segment 45.
"Surely, only DNA can't be the only factor to determine the paternity," suggested Segment 18.
"If we can't find a way to find a match with blood, tissue, or DNA, we could always narrow down the possibility of one of us being the father by calculating the fertility factor of our sperm, the time between conception and delivery, and the general condition of the mother and the baby during pregnancy," Segment 35 muttered.
Pantalone sighed, seemingly relieved that he had managed to prevent another Zandik from being dissected today.
"I must, however, object to executing this plan right now," said Segment 25, "her postpartum period is to last for at the very least 2 months, and we have a newborn to care for as well."
"Naturally," all Segments agreed and nodded.
"Then," smirked Omega, "we shall have a time limit of 2 months to conduct our research. Whosoever manages to bring concrete proof along with the timeline and convinces everyone that the baby is theirs shall get to claim the progeny and raise them. Do we all agree?"
"Yes," said all the Segments.
"Then shall I volunteer as a referee? You know, as a neutral party, to keep things nice and fair?" asked Pantalone.
"Of course, friend. You're more than welcome to invite yourself to my research discussions. You are, after all, the one funding all of our experiments," said Omega gleefully.
Pantalone watched with interest as all of the Segments dismissed themselves, some going to rest after what he assumed was a long day of being in the delivery room, others sprinting to their assigned labs to get a head start on their research, while the rest stayed to be available for you.
'Ah,' Pantalone thought to himself, stepping outside and pulling out a cigarette, 'this whole ordeal shall be quite entertaining.'
Part 2??? (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
a/n: hello hello everynyan |˶˙ᵕ˙ )ﾉﾞ I wrote this at 3 am in a fever dream lol. Fun fact: kids of identical twins are genetic half-siblings. SO if you have an identical twin and have a baby, the baby is also half of your twin lol. It gave me the idea about what if multiple people shared the same DNA and boom that's how I wrote this fic in 2 hours when I have like 12 other drafts that have been collecting dust ehe (ᵕ—ᗜ—) I might make a few edits here and there so pls excuse any grammatical errors lol I don't know english well ≽^•⩊•^≼ anyway enjoy ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
@luminarylorecat Do not repost, translate, adapt, feed into AI, or claim this work. Reblogs and links are appreciated; copying and reuploading are not.
Okay, I just deleted the post and reposted it again. I mistakenly wrote "bigbaddogs" as "bigbaddog", but Alice said the version without the "s" works perfectly too—it feels like a direct reference to Lane the "dog". So I’m keeping the typo; this genius little twist just won me over… (Truth is, I’m just too tired from drawing to fix it.)
P.S. The R18 version will be posted on X (@BombSanchez).
Summary: You are in pain. A good chunk of the week passes before you decide to do something about it. Unfortunely, there is no medicine that usually helps. Then an idea hits: you can mix up something yourself
Warnings; I don't know what being high is like, so yeah!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
A/N: I wrote it while having a very bad flare up and my period, please enjoy! The reader has chronic pain, and is part of the medical staff in the mansion.
Check out doctor pain in the ass reporting for duty post!
Requests are open!
The bathroom smells like wet clothing and that horrible shower gel Jeff likes to use sometimes.
You are laying in the bathtub, feet dangling above the edges. It’s uncomfortable, but the chilly feeling feels somewhat worth it.
Your head is fuzzy, the world blurs and, spins and heart twists in ways that make you smirk, even if the situation you are in is far from being funny.
You are high, in pain, or both. Honestly, after a good cocktail of drugs you managed to find it hard to tell. There is this small thought that pops in, you shouldn’t have done that.
With hopes and maybe prayers, you breathe in and out, hoping everything will pass by soon and you can return to work without being scolded. Now, being scolded isn’t that bad, but it’s still annoying. Avoiding unnecessary lectures from Ann and Cody became not only a habit but something close to a hobby. Of course, this was countered by both of them actively seeking you out.
Boring.
The faint ache in your muscles echoes through your body. You laugh breathlessly. It’s hard, but you have to admit you suck at improvising when it comes to your medication.
The door creaks open slowly, a huge shadow blocking out the warm light from the corridor. You only manage to mutter out a small curse before your head lulls back.
The figure sighs.
“I knew I would find you here.” Jack says, calm. His tone hinted at being slightly disappointed.
Your head feels too heavy, but you still manage to give Jack a peace sign. “Technically I am on, uhh, duty downstairs.”
“You could have asked. I would send Toby for your medication. You know it’s really not a problem.”
To the best of your efforts you tilt your head to the side and try to meet his gaze. Try is a good word, Jack looks like sad shapes smushed together in a desperate attempt to create something. You barely feel his hands grazing your cheeks.
“Shit..” the demon mutters, and you snort. It's always funny when someone like Jack swears. “How much did you take?”
You try to think about it- how much and which pills you decided to mix together. It’s too blurry and fast, and the pain makes sure to let itself be known.
Weakly, because your body is suddenly betraying you, you try to grasp Jack's arm. The words die, and instead you mutter something that you think resembles a sentence.
“You are so..stubborn.” The man huffs before trying and lifting you up. You grumble, mind protesting, but body nuzzles into the coolness of his skin. “This is nice, don’t get me wrong. You do have a big mouth.”
You try to bury yourself deeper, basking in the rare display of affection, not really noticing Jack is carrying you to his room.
You like Jack, even if you don’t want to admit it. You think he likes you too. Even if the feeling blossomed due to curiosity and familiarity of the situation you found yourself not long ago.
He is so chilly. You breathe him in, fingers sneaking to touch his neck. You fail to notice how he shudders, his cheeks dust slightly blue. You find comfort in how cold he seems, even if he lays you in his bed gently. Treating you as if you were made from finest porcelain. “You are so smart, dove.” He purrs. “But at the same time, so stupid. I should lock you up because you keep getting yourself in trouble.”
You only murmur something, fingers looking for something to grab. Your body feels warm, feverish almost. Still, you feel comfortable even if you are unsure why. You breathe a sigh of relief, basking in the smell, and the newfound relaxing atmosphere. While you do that Jack talks, much more than you have ever heard him speak. The subject varies, you think so at least.
In a way the whole ordeal makes you feel safe, and you can’t help but close your eyes. Jack notices, of course he does. Small things matter a lot to him. His touch is light, claws grazing your skin. Careful.
You yawn, feeling warm and content. Mind drifting to sleep, even if you wish you could stay awake just a little longer. It’s not like you will remember, right?
Overview: Around the campfire, the boys finally get a chance to get to know you better...although there's still a thin line they must walk, at least until they can secure your trust.
A continuation of this
Series Masterlist ⚔️ Legend of Zelda Masterlist
CHAPTER SIX: Campfire Questions
'They're scheming,' what should sound like an accusation falls more along the lines of consternation while you watch the group from afar.
Yards away, they huddle around the campfire in a tight circle, murmuring amongst themselves while stealing glances your way with a complete lack of subtlety.
You're probably equally as subtle in the way you suddenly adjust, bending your knees to sit straighter with the handle of Link's sword now held in a whitened grip upon your lap. Your other hand grasps the scabbard, each finger twitching impatiently.
In your head, you run imagery drills mostly involving you leaping to your feet and drawing the blade with skilled precision...a wishful outcome that doesn't take into account your lack of actual experience, which is why you're also sure to consider more realistic scenarios where you flee instead, stumbling over roots and rocks with a desperate scream no one else would be around to answer.
...What could they be planning for you over there? Certainly it's to cause you harm one way or another! There's too many of them for you to fight off as if you'd be able to fight even just one and running would likely be fruitless, too, especially considering your current exhaustion.
Oh, why did you let yourself get into this situation?! You wish you could go back in time and change your answer - to have never agreed to travel together in the first place with concern for your own safety!
'I wish Link were here,' the pitiful thought crosses your mind before you can stop it - before you can remind yourself how impossible and utterly hopeless that is. Sure, if he were here, you'd have nothing to fear. He'd set these boys straight, not letting so much as a finger befall you...but Link's dead. What good does wishing for him do now?
...And yet, even after so many years without him, you still find yourself desperately seeking your husband's protection...because against the odds, some foolish part of your mind still believes he could somehow keep you safe even from beyond his own grave.
Suddenly one of the boys - the Skyloftian who can't seem to ever leave you alone for long - abandons his companions in favor of your direction. His pace can't be any more than a slow jog, yet your heart still leaps into your throat before plummeting into your stomach, your entire body tense as you prepare yourself for his approach.
There's a brief second where you consider standing, however your body remains glued to its spot on the ground, your hidden terror interfering with your ability to make a quick choice before the boy's already towering over you.
"Hey! Would you like to maybe join us by the fire?" The teen shows you a toothy grin - one you can't help feeling is forced given the slight, nervous twitch at each corner.
You must look truly silly being so skittish around someone who behaves so kindly...but isn't that the trick? For all anyone knows, it could all be an outward performance meant to shadow his true intentions! No way you're trusting that!
Fortunately, you must be doing a much better job than you realize keeping your fears hidden - that or he's plain oblivious, because he does nothing to call out your internal panic, simply throwing a thumb back towards the others, "It's, um, pretty cold over here."
"I'm fine," You lie, readjusting yourself against the stiff bark currently digging into your back. The movement has you firmly planting your boots flat against the ground, prepared to run should the situation call for it.
Sky nods slowly, almost as if your words go in one ear then right out the other while his concerned eyes briefly dart to your face. Although Skyloftian clothing is designed to keep the wearer's body warm against regularly low temperatures, he knows from personal experience how cruel the air's bite must be to your exposed cheeks and nose...but calling your bluff probably won't help him get the results he's hoping for.
"...Well, um, dinner's almost done. I'm sure you're hungry at least?"
You open your mouth, planning another stubborn reply before hopefully shooing the boy away, yet your stomach decides to speak in your honor instead, rumbling rather loudly in protest to that consideration.
Your face immediately grows warm in embarrassment which is further fueled by Sky's amused laughter. It might not be polite, but he can't help himself! The sound releases a certain tension from the air (at least on his side of things).
Turning, he gestures to the fire through a nod of his head, "Come on! The Champion makes really good food, I promise! A lot of the ingredients he uses can't be found on Skyloft, so I consider it a special treat for us Skyloftians."
Despite already having his back to you, he waits, not taking a single step more as his eyes remain locked on you from over his shoulder. There's a certain softness to them - one patient and inviting, with a bit of something else you don't care enough to decipher at the moment.
Opposed to his offer, you remain stuck to the ground like a heavy rock while staring at him so intensely, a lesser man might've combusted on the spot. You search for any sign of dishonesty - even the slightest hint of ill or inappropriate intention...yet all you see is a boy. His smile is pure although tired, his eyes almost sad as if seeing something about this world that you can't, forced to bear a weight no others could know...You recognize those eyes...
"You should really eat. It's been a long day for us all."
"I -..." Your mouth clasps shut before any more sound can escape. The breath you breathe feels heavier than usual, tasting bitter although there's a chance you might've just bitten your lip too hard this time...Then, as if beckoned by some invisible force, your body finally moves without any real opposition. Slowly and carefully, you rise to your feet much to the Skyloftian's joy.
Almost timidly, you trail him over to the fire, reluctantly sitting in the one open spot the boys make for you by wordlessly shuffling apart. Sky makes no grand show of it when he sits beside you, his proud smile only remaining focused on you for a second longer before his attention turns to the fire.
...Already, it feels as if you've crossed into forbidden territory. Contrary to how it had been before you invaded their circle, the group is dead silent now - almost unbearably so. All that can be heard now against the quiet forest's whisper are the songs of crickets, pops of the campfire, and uncomfortable shifting as if no one quite knows what to say or do.
Had they even agreed to invite you over or did their Skyloftian take that upon himself? It seems most of them refuse to so much as glance your way, whether out of distrust or mere awkwardness is left to your imagination.
Perhaps the only ones unbothered by this situation (aside from the Skyloftian himself, who's in high spirits) are the Old Man, who you've accepted must just always appear tense, and their cook, who at least has something else to occupy himself with as he tastes his product before tossing in some more spices.
For a moment, you consider retreating. Catching illness would certainly be better than being stuck shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers like this...although the warmth of the fire is much more welcoming than the wind's lick, and whatever's being dished out of that pot sure does smell delicious although anything could probably be considered a delectable feast compared to the bland trail food you packed for yourself.
"Here ya' go," the first words finally spoken come from the boy sitting to your right. He flashes a polite smile while passing a bowl your way, however you hesitate to accept it, spending a shameful amount of time staring at his face in pure confusion.
You're almost positive you haven't seen him amongst their group before. There were eight when you first met them - You should know because you've been careful to study and assess each! ...But then, when would he have had a chance to sneak in without notice or announcement?
...Now that you recall, they did mention something about another trailing back from their party for whatever reason. Given all the other information they dropped on you then, you just hadn't thought to question it. He must be their mysterious ninth member. Yet another stranger to keep track of...
Around you, the boys begin hastily digging in, not wasting a second for prayers or even proper manners for many of them. Honestly, they act half starved, sloshing their spoons into the soup before eagerly slurping it with little regard to how the remnants end up dripping down their chins. At least some of the older boys try to be more dignified, however even their bites are rushed as if worried someone or something might get in the way of their supper.
Staring down at the creamy liquid, you're hesitant to take the spoon between your fingers and even more so to actually bring it to your lips. It smells fine - more than fine, really, with a deep, earthy scent and a hint of sweet spice. You had also watched as it had been dished right out of the main pot then passed over to you without anything else being noticeably added...so it should be safe to eat, shouldn't it? Everyone else is already halfway done with their first bowls by the looks of it.
Your stomach doesn't really care to take guesses. Poisoned or not, you can feel a faint bubbling of your insides which threaten to announce your hunger aloud any second now. Not wanting that embarrassment again, you finally trust a bite.
"It's good, right?" Sky seems to turn to you immediately afterwards, as if that singular bite had been his cue to finally begin conversation.
"...Mhm..." You look away and nod, not wanting to show how much you actually enjoy it. Carrot stew, with a hint of butter and cream - something you haven't had since your days on the Surface.
Many foods had been lost since moving to Skyloft, yet dairy had been completely taken off the menu without access to livestock like cows or goats. Whether a fan of those foods or not, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you haven't missed at least having the option for variety in your meals. Now you'll just have to hope its sudden reintroduction doesn't make you sick.
"...Sooo, why don't you tell us a bit about yourself?" Sky starts, trying to make the random question sound natural. He lifts his own spoon as if ready to take another bite, yet it never actually makes it up to his lips, his focus staying primarily on you and whatever answer you might give.
"There's nothing to tell," Unfortunately, all he receives is a grumble while you stir away the creamy swirls inside your bowl, "You already know my name and that I derive from Skyloft. What more would you need to know?"
This causes him to falter slightly, however it's only for a second before he recovers, deciding to try a more direct approach, "R-Right...I guess the question I meant to ask is what ledyou to begin this journey in the first place? I don't mean to pry, but it's just that...Well -"
"- You don't seem exactly fit for this kinda thing," While Sky's idea of a 'direct' approach still involves beating around the bush, Legend has no issue pointing out what he'd argue is 'obvious', barely looking up from his meal even after the disapproving way some of the others hiss his name, "...What? I'm not wrong! She clearly hasn't spent much time traveling before all of this! I've met a lot of people throughout my adventures. I can tell when someone's new to the road."
He...isn't wrong. Not that anyone else would've wanted to point it out much less that bluntly, but it's been made painfully apparent to them that you have little to no experience with life on the road like this...although admittedly, they tend to be a bit overqualified themselves.
"Are you a knight?" Warriors inquires, looking to your outfit which he recalls Sky saying is the official uniform for Skyloft's knights. There are slight differences, with yours notably having less fancy stitch-work along the seams yet brighter colors overall as if richer dyes had been used in its creation.
Unfortunately for him, you take the direction of his eyes the wrong way, sinking further behind Sky with a slight glare.
"A merchant?" Wild guesses, silently hoping that's the case since their group could really use some new supplies and goods. He has plenty of gems and old guardian parts he'd be willing to trade in exchange.
"She could just be an inspiring traveler," Hyrule offers, shrugging off Legend's huff, "What? We all gotta start somewhere."
"My profession is no business of yours."
The boys frown at your mulish insistence yet you pay them no mind, stuffing another spoonful of soup into your mouth while praying to the goddesses they drop the topic...but the divine have rarely ever been on your side.
"Baker, merchant, housewife - What difference does it make to us?" The Vet scoffs while ripping off a bite of his bread, however the way he rolls his eyes afterwards is more sarcastic than truly annoyed, "Kind of a weird thing to be so secretive about, don't ya think?"
You deflate with cheeks slightly warmed. With all their eyes still burning into your soul, you look away while mumbling against your spoon, "...I'm a blacksmith."
This catches the attention of a certain blond sitting across the campfire, who's head snaps up with an eager glow to his eyes, "Really?"
"Yes," You sigh heavily, misinterpreting his interest as the wrong kind of surprise, "I know most don't expect it based on appearances, but it's a family trade taught to me by my father who was once one of the most renowned smiths across Hylia's People...although not many share the craft anymore."
"I bet you're very talented," Sky makes it sound like a compliment over a guess, eyes glittering as if he knows that statement to be factual, but how could he possibly?
"It's easy to be talented when you have no real competition."
Someone snorts, accepting your comment as humorous despite that not being your intention.
"I'm a blacksmith myself. 'learned everything I know from my grandfather," Four explains with a pinch of pride. He's busy fishing chunks of carrot from his bowl before finally turning his attention to you, "How long have you worked the trade?"
Now that's an answer you must actually think about, "Hmm, professionally...I suppose ten years...I had always helped out with the smaller tasks - managing the forge's heat, crafting simple farm tools, and the such - however my father - Well, he fell ill when I was about twenty. 'couldn't manage the business on his own any longer, so I stepped in. I've been handling the reins ever since."
"Wow, that's a long time!" Wind awes before counting on each of his fingers, "So that means you must be thirty now, right?"
The innocent question earns him a sharp elbow to the side and a hissed scolding from Warriors, "Don't ask a lady that! It's impolite!"
"Why?! It's just a question!"
Despite being reticent towards previous questions and the way you internally chide yourself for having shared too much just then, you show more patience towards the younger boy's prying than you had with the others. A gentle smile feels almost natural as you look to the youth, "Nearly thirty two, but you'd be correct."
"Then you're still younger than the Old Man!" The teen beams, almost like that's truly an accomplishment to be proud of. He then leans in with a loud whisper, hand held up to shield the side of his face as if that will magically prevent the man in question who happens to be sitting directly to his left from hearing, "He won't tell us exactly how old he is, but we're guessing sixty."
Your eyebrow shoots up as you glance at the alleged 'Old Man'. Sure, he looks much older than the others here, but sixty? You would've guessed he'd only have a few years on you if anything. He doesn't even appear to have wrinkles!
"That's...certainly a guess."
"Trust us, he's a lot older than he looks!" Warriors assures, that be it in a teasing tone while throwing a hand on the grumbling man's shoulder.
"Mentally speaking," Time clarifies, shrugging the Captain away, "Which isn't difficult to accomplish amongst this group."
...Well, that certainly leaves you with more questions than answers.
Not caring to ask nor acknowledge the lighter air between you all, you opt to continue with your meal. There seems to be a tension removed from the group - as if your short answers had already been enough to smooth their minds and convince them you're no threat...which could either be a good or bad thing for yourself.
You're nearly done with your bowl - save for a few scraping spoonfulls left on the bottom - when Sky dares to break the silence again, "So is it just you and your father?"
There's a brief second where your movements stall, your entire body freezing as if overcome by a chilled winter breeze. At first, you don't intend on responding, certain that particular question crosses a line...however your eyes drift down to the torn scarf around your neck, a heavy weight soon pulling you down with it, "...And my son."
There's a solemn silence across the circle which you hadn't expected, almost like they can sense your exact pain with those three words alone. Just like that, you can once again hear the chirping of crickets in the distance and the snapping of logs collapsing in the fire pit. Then...
"It must be difficult being so far from him," Time's voice is gentle - understanding even.
Your grip on your spoon tightens. You've surely felt it already, although hearing someone else point it out makes the weight all the more crushing. With a sharp intake of air, you fight against the stinging in your eyes, "...It is...but I'll be home soon enough."
It might sound like pure determination - and to a certain extent, it is - however there's also a hint of denial in there somewhere, refusing to linger on the thought for too long all for the sake of your own survival and mentality.
Being so far from your child feels like being away from a piece of your heart. Despite knowing deep down that he's safe under the watchful eyes of the entire community, you could still worry yourself sick for his wellbeing. In your stubborn mind, he could only truly be protected by your own hand - by the iron will of a mother who could stare death right in the eye without falter for the sake of her baby. You imagine that's how any mother would feel, although you doubt your anxiety is made any better given everything you've gone through...
There's a gauche cough as their cook raises his spoon, "Anyone up for seconds?"
Apparently that's all it takes to shift the mood, even if just slightly. A couple of hands (most of them really) go up before bowls are passed back around, however you no longer feel as hungry as you once had. Instead, you settle for finishing what's in front of you and listen without participation to the conversations that soon start to flow around you.
From your left, Sky also refuses a refill of his soup, too busy dwelling on your previous answer to worry about his own stomach.
He had hoped for something more - something that could directly confirm his suspicions. You're a blacksmith which is good. You said it yourself: it's a rare trade on Skyloft and even rarer for women. You also have a child - a boy - which is better, because the hero's son had famously founded the Knight's Academy, becoming its first headmaster; all the more evidence that Sky's correct in your identity.
...Still, he wants to know more, in part to convince everyone else, but to also cure his own burning curiosity. The answer lies with your husband - if he really was Hylia's Chosen Hero and, quite possibly, the first Hero of Courage. Exactly how much do you know about his destiny and eventual legacy? Did Hylia tell you anything about his reincarnation? Do you know about yours?
He could ask - continue to pry and hint until you either begrudgingly confess or bite - yet his internal turmoil must've been worn too clearly upon his face because Warriors kicks his boot, wordlessly shaking his head with a sharp look shot through the corner of his eyes. Both dip their heads to each other in unspoken agreement: this isn't the time to bother you with any more questions.
.
.
.
The rest of the evening goes better than you had imagined although you admittedly had very low expectations to begin with. There's no aggression or danger that you sense, nor is there much awkwardness despite how your last conversation had faded. Best of all, there were no further interrogation attempts, not even the Skyloftian who stayed oddly silent throughout the rest of the night.
Some random chattering came to life soon after dinner had been finished, although you would only quietly listen in, preferring to use the opportunity to learn more about them through the stories they'd dramatically retell, each based on their alleged travels.
Even if you wanted to, there wasn't anything you could really add for yourself outside of maybe secondhand accounts of Link's own battles, although you doubt you'd be able to hold an audience as well as the young Sailor could through his colorful excitement.
Tales of skin-crawling spiders, vicious lynels, and colossal 'Octos' (whatever those are). It was all a bit much and quite unbelievable some of it, so you would certainly deny there ever being even the slightest resemblance to a smile hidden behind the hand you leaned against throughout.
Eventually, it was agreed by several yawns and sluggish blinks that it was in everyone's best interest to get some rest before setting out again in the morning - a point met with no objections until the eldest mentioned something about 'keeping watch'.
There were some groans as he lazily recited a list of names which you assume would be their shift order, yet your own name wouldn't be a part of it. He could have many reasons for excluding you, ranging from distrust to an act of politeness, but you didn't care. You fully planned on staying up to keep watch over yourself anyway.
Without any more discussion, you all quietly rose from your places around a dimming fire with some aching bones crackling under the movement. As the boys wandered off to their bedrolls, you stretched your stiff limbs before turning towards the same tree you had been resting against earlier.
"Ya' can use my bedroll if ya' want," You startle when Twilight comes up behind you, his presence innocent enough as he holds out a rolled blanket in his arms, "I don't mind sleepin' under the stars."
"Neither do I -"
"- Your bedroll's covered in dog hair. She doesn't want to sleep on that!" Warriors scoffs, approaching the two of you with a sway of confidence as he had been personally invited to interrupt your conversation.
You look away while Twilight's tanned cheeks take on a more pink color, "I - Wolfie must'a been layin' on it when I wasn't lookin'! It'll dust off just fine!"
A hand props itself against Warriors' jutted hip, the other gesturing to a much more pristine bedroll already laid out mere feet away, "She can take mine. Unlike yours, it doesn't smell and the bedding has been freshly washed."
"Mine doesn't smell!" Twilight exclaims, although there's a concerned waiver behind his voice as he raises the covers to his nose just to make sure.
"Cause you've gone nose blind -"
"- I'll take his," already too exhausted to be dealing with this and thus leaving no more question to it, you practically snatch the roll of covers from Twilight's arms before swiftly turning on your heel and ducking away from them both, "Thank you."
They frown at your retreating form before Twilight soon puffs out his chest with an all too prideful look sent Warriors' way, much to the other man's annoyance.
A comfortable distance away from the others, you lay out the borrowed bedroll and spend minimal time patting it flat. Simply refusing to forgo any of your clothes - even the heavier chainmail underneath your tunic - you drop your sword and shield down within arms reach before shuffling under the covers which really do carry the slight smell of dog and hay.
It would likely be more comfortable without so many layers of clothing, however it still beats that hole you had slept in the previous night, closer akin to an actual bed you're used to. From your place, you can see across most of the camp, including the small flicker of the fire and the shadowy silhouette of the Old Man still sitting beside it.
Pulling your sword close, you curl against the scabbard, forcing yourself not to close your eyes for more than a few seconds...which is, of course, easier said than done.
There's a bit of movement from nearby caused by the Skyloftian collapsing upon his own bedroll with a drained exhale. He's halfway through removing his boots before his attention jerks to you, only then seeming to notice your presence.
"...Goodnight," He tries to smile even if it does look a bit nervous still, yet you only make a short sound before rolling to your other side.
do note that these playlists are a mix of vibe, what reminds me of them, their (possible) dynamic with mc, etc. i tend to take off songs/substitute them so it's not all Set in Stone.
"Tinker Bell !" your voice cracked, clinging to your doll with one arm as your body twisted mid-air.
"P-Peter! Please, I'm-"
Your back struck the soft ground of the empty Mermaid Lagoon, the air knocked out of your lungs as you curled around your doll.
The third fall today. Or was it the fourth? Time didn't make sense here.
A shadow cast over you as Peter hovered above, barefoot, cocky grin tugging at his lips.
"Oh, come on! You said you liked flying."
"I didn't say I liked being thrown…" You hiccupped, choking back another sob.
Your doll was pressed so tight to your chest that its button eye was imprinting a red ring on your skin.
Peter twirled mid-air, arms out as if showing off.
"I'm just playing with you! I play rough, that's what we do in Neverland!”
You looked up, hair tangled, face sticky with tears.
"Father never treats me like this, he said I was his treasure"
Peter's eyes narrowed, his grin faltering. Something behind them flickered. Cold.
"Yeah," he muttered, descending and crouching beside you, his shadow stretching long and sharp behind him.
"Your Father, not me."
Your lips quivered, you had begged for weeks.
Pleaded in the treehouse he had built which felt like a cage.
You wanted to go home, you wanted your father’s warm coats and honey-sweet words, and the toys he gave you just because you pouted.
But Peter gave you nothing.
Except bruises, dizzy spells, and lies.
Unfortunately, you fall for his lies, as Peter promised he will fly you around for a little bit and then return you to the ship.
And you being a naive shaltred twelve year old, believed him.
“My princess,” he mocked in a sing-song tone, poking your doll, before snatching it away.
"Bet he made you feel so special."
"He loves me," you whispered, voice cracking.
"He's looking for me. I know it."
Peter tilted his head, eyes narrowing, and then he said it.
"No, he gave you to me."
Peter knew the truth, James Hook suffered from his family's neglect for years
The pirate would never abandon you or even dare to make you feel unwanted like how he felt in his childhood.
"You are lying."
He grinned wider, leaning in close, breath tickling your cheek.
"We made a deal, a long time ago, he broke his promise to me, he said he would never grow up, but he did, he ran away with some of my boys, and made himself a pirate king." Peter's voice hardened.
"So I took you."
"SHUT UP!!" you screamed, the sound ripping your throat raw.
Peter blinked, startled, then frowned.
"You are being ungrateful," he stated coldly.
"I feed you. I keep you young. I let you fly. You get me, that's better than being a pirate, isn't it?"
You turned away, after taking back your doll.
"Take me home…"
He leaned closer, lips brushing your ear.
"This is home."
Suddenly, he bent down and scooped you up into his arms, bridal style.
Your legs dangled limply, fever burning under your skin, but he cared less.
"There we go!" he chirped, all singsong and sunshine. "No more tears, little wife."
You blinked, stunned, dizzy as your cheek pressed against his shoulder.
"W-What…?"
Peter spun around with you in his arms, the treehouse nursery blurring past.
"I know what will cheer you up! Let's play your favorite game!"
You stiffened.
"House!" he declared, grinning wide.
"You remember, right? I will be the husband…"
He nuzzled his nose against your cheek with childlike glee.
"And you are the wife. Of course."
You shook your head weakly, tears slipping down your cheeks.
"Peter, I don't want to."
The rejection was ignored as he continued.
"And the Lost Boys are our adorable little children!"
"Tinker Bell !" your voice cracked, clinging to your doll with one arm as your body twisted mid-air.
"P-Peter! Please, I'm-"
Your back struck the soft ground of the empty Mermaid Lagoon, the air knocked out of your lungs as you curled around your doll.
The third fall today. Or was it the fourth? Time didn't make sense here.
A shadow cast over you as Peter hovered above, barefoot, cocky grin tugging at his lips.
"Oh, come on! You said you liked flying."
"I didn't say I liked being thrown…" You hiccupped, choking back another sob.
Your doll was pressed so tight to your chest that its button eye was imprinting a red ring on your skin.
Peter twirled mid-air, arms out as if showing off.
"I'm just playing with you! I play rough, that's what we do in Neverland!”
You looked up, hair tangled, face sticky with tears.
"Father never treats me like this, he said I was his treasure"
Peter's eyes narrowed, his grin faltering. Something behind them flickered. Cold.
"Yeah," he muttered, descending and crouching beside you, his shadow stretching long and sharp behind him.
"Your Father, not me."
Your lips quivered, you had begged for weeks.
Pleaded in the treehouse he had built which felt like a cage.
You wanted to go home, you wanted your father’s warm coats and honey-sweet words, and the toys he gave you just because you pouted.
But Peter gave you nothing.
Except bruises, dizzy spells, and lies.
Unfortunately, you fall for his lies, as Peter promised he will fly you around for a little bit and then return you to the ship.
And you being a naive shaltred twelve year old, believed him.
“My princess,” he mocked in a sing-song tone, poking your doll, before snatching it away.
"Bet he made you feel so special."
"He loves me," you whispered, voice cracking.
"He's looking for me. I know it."
Peter tilted his head, eyes narrowing, and then he said it.
"No, he gave you to me."
Peter knew the truth, James Hook suffered from his family's neglect for years
The pirate would never abandon you or even dare to make you feel unwanted like how he felt in his childhood.
"You are lying."
He grinned wider, leaning in close, breath tickling your cheek.
"We made a deal, a long time ago, he broke his promise to me, he said he would never grow up, but he did, he ran away with some of my boys, and made himself a pirate king." Peter's voice hardened.
"So I took you."
"SHUT UP!!" you screamed, the sound ripping your throat raw.
Peter blinked, startled, then frowned.
"You are being ungrateful," he stated coldly.
"I feed you. I keep you young. I let you fly. You get me, that's better than being a pirate, isn't it?"
You turned away, after taking back your doll.
"Take me home…"
He leaned closer, lips brushing your ear.
"This is home."
Suddenly, he bent down and scooped you up into his arms, bridal style.
Your legs dangled limply, fever burning under your skin, but he cared less.
"There we go!" he chirped, all singsong and sunshine. "No more tears, little wife."
You blinked, stunned, dizzy as your cheek pressed against his shoulder.
"W-What…?"
Peter spun around with you in his arms, the treehouse nursery blurring past.
"I know what will cheer you up! Let's play your favorite game!"
You stiffened.
"House!" he declared, grinning wide.
"You remember, right? I will be the husband…"
He nuzzled his nose against your cheek with childlike glee.
"And you are the wife. Of course."
You shook your head weakly, tears slipping down your cheeks.
"Peter, I don't want to."
The rejection was ignored as he continued.
"And the Lost Boys are our adorable little children!"
Hii can you do part 2 of "back off I have a girlfriend" pleasee🙏
Thank you beforehand <33
BACK OFF! I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND!
By an unfortunate twist of fate—and your boyfriend’s carelessness—he ended up mixing ingredients that definitely shouldn’t have been used together. The result? A slightly over-the-top explosion, a very angry Professor Crewel, and of course, your boyfriend affected by the smoke, which, to add to his suffering, left him unable to recognize you.
# A/N: Some people asked for more characters so here they are!! :) Sorry for taking so long, work is devouring me pls send help
RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS
Riddle’s eyes slowly opened, his vision still somewhat blurry. The colors were bright, but the faces were indistinct, and he could feel his head pounding.
He allowed himself to close his eyes again to rest for a little longer, but the moment he felt someone adjusting his blanket, he immediately sat upright.
“Riddle? Thank goodness you’re awake!” you exclaimed, smiling as you tilted your head to the side. “But don’t move so suddenly, you might get dizzy again—”
You thought the redness climbing from your boyfriend’s neck to his face was because he was embarrassed about being bedridden, or because he had messed up a relatively simple potion. Apparently not.
You lifted your hand to check his temperature, but in the blink of an eye, you had been shoved away from him—and a collar was now around your neck.
“Rule 807 of the Queen of Hearts states, in very clear terms, that physical contact this intimate is strictly prohibited with someone whom you do not share a mutual emotional bond with!”
The two of you stared at each other in silence for the longest sixty seconds of your life.
Trey knocked on the bedroom door before entering without waiting for permission, since he still expected his friend to be still in dreamland.
His eyes widened when his gaze landed on the collar adorning your neck. “What…?”
“Trey!” Riddle practically pleaded his name. “Remove this…this person from here! Immediately!” He yanked the blanket up, covering himself from head to toe.
The two of you could hear his muffled muttering and lamenting from beneath the covers. “How inappropriate, how inappropriate…! What will the prefect think of me!?”
FLOYD LEECH
Floyd’s expression was impossible to read, the corners of his lips curled downward as his eyes shifted between you and his brother.
“Jade.” Floyd stared at his face, his nose wrinkling in disgust.
“Yes?” he replied, not looking up from the alchemy coat he was currently trying to clean.
“Why is it touching me?”
Jade looked over at his brother, who was staring at his own girlfriend—who was trying to change his bandages—as though she were some kind of strange fish living in the depths of a swamp.
“It!?” you asked incredulously.
“How curious,” the twin blinked in genuine surprise. “Normally, you’re the one who enjoys physical affection—”
“With my shrimpy,” Floyd turned his face away so you wouldn’t touch his cheeks. “The human is courting me!”
You and Jade exchanged glances, both silently agreeing that the unlabeled sedative hidden in the infirmary cabinet could be very useful until the potion’s effects wore off.
“I’m gonna squeeze life out of it—“
“Please, don’t. You will cry later.”
JADE LEECH
You sighed, brushing the hair away from his face. “Jade, why did you add that mushroom when it wasn’t even in the recipe?”
To your surprise, he gently removed your hand from his face, his expression calm despite how firmly he was holding your wrist. “My, what bold behavior. Are you attempting to court me?”
You raised an eyebrow, thinking he had gotten offended by your scolding. “If you’d prefer, I can just leave Floyd to take care of you instead.”
He smiled politely. “That would be excellent.”
Your lips parted in surprise, unsure of what to say for a full minute, while your boyfriend’s twin let out a grunt.
“No,” Floyd muttered, resting his chin on his hand, still irritated from being forced by you to help carry his brother to the infirmary. “That’s your shrimpy’s job.”
“Precisely,” Jade said. “I do not feel comfortable being touched by a stranger while in such a vulnerable state as the one I currently find myself in… Where is my sweet beloved?”
Your eyes nearly rolled into your skull at his syrupy tone. “Right here, Jade.”
“Floyd,” your boyfriend called again, ignoring the way his brother slumped back in the chair with a dramatic sigh.
“What!?”
“This human believes we are in a relationship.”
“…Aren’t you?!”
“…No?” You placed a hand on your hip, but he didn’t seem to care about your irritation. “Please remove her from the room. My legs are numb, and I would hate for my beloved to see this human’s hands on me.”
MALLEUS DRACONIA
You never, ever imagined in all your time knowing Malleus that there would come a day when a small explosion involving a basic potion would actually knock him unconscious.
Your arms were tired after struggling so much to stop Grim from eating the ice cream you had bought to comfort your boyfriend. Though, as you passed through the gates of Diasomnia, you could hear Sebek crying—and not the actual victim of the accident.
Lilia smiled as he opened the door for you, stepping aside so you could enter. “He has already asked seven times if you were coming to visit him.”
“Silver, is she really coming? Why is she taking so long?”
“And that makes eight,” Lilia added with a laugh.
Malleus looked far more presentable than someone who had caused an explosion should. His hair was slightly messy, there was still a faint tiredness in his eyes, but he seemed fine enough.
And then he looked at you. The silence that fell over the room was strange. His green eyes slowly followed your every movement, almost cautiously, as you approached the bed.
“…Malleus?” you called carefully. “I brought ice cream.”
He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze slowly lowered to the container in your hands.
For a moment, his tail shifted briefly beneath the blankets, and he swallowed hard. “…Ice cream?” Malleus repeated slowly, almost hypnotized.
“You brought food without a security inspection—”
Silver placed a hand over Sebek’s mouth to silence him.
“It’s vanilla,” you explained. “Trey said sugar might help with the dizziness.”
Malleus turned his face away, avoiding eye contact with the dessert. “Ahem! How disrespectful.”
Everyone in the room turned to look at him, confusion written all over their faces at the comment.
“It is kind of you to visit me in such a delicate condition,” in truth, he had already been feeling better five minutes after the incident, “however, I do not believe it proper to attempt courting someone who is already committed.”
“Committed?” You frowned. “You have someone else?” Your confusion was genuine.
“Quite the contrary. I have only one lover,” Malleus said seriously, clearly distressed. “My beloved would be devastated if she discovered that I allowed such intimacy.”
Lilia was the first to understand the misunderstanding, bursting into loud laughter even after receiving a mildly irritated look from Malleus.
You crossed your arms, staring at him.
“Sebek,” Malleus called, “remove this young lady from my room.”
Sebek was speechless for a moment, an expression of horror appearing on his face. “Wh—” He looked at you.
Honestly, he had waited months for the chance to finally make you behave around Malleus and keep your hands to yourself, but this was the first time his master had not only failed to scold him for complaining about you, but had directly asked him to remove you from the room!
gummygunk
blakekathryn
germansingergirl
