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littlebluebird2000 · 11 hours ago

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Where the Lotus Grows

PART 8 : Where the Lotus Dies

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, historical setting, slow burn, smut

warnings: smut, family conflict, power imbalance, death, su*cide, bullying, social pressure, trauma, violence

summary: within the walls of the royal palace, nothing is ever as it seems. as subtle glances turn into quiet conversations, and duty begins to blur with longing, you must learn to survive the delicate game of court life without losing yourself.

author's note: sorry everyone for that late posting. my mom is still at the hospital so it was been a rough couple of days. my writing is a bit meh because of it, but I still hope it brings you joy. please like share and comment to let me know your thoughts <3

word count: 9k

part 1. part 2. part 3. part 4. part 5. part 6.

part 7.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The lotus blooms in the mud

untouched by the dirt that surrounds

it. It is a symbol of resilience,

of quiet beauty born from chaos.

And yet, even the lotus must wither

to bloom again, for only in its dying

is it reborn."

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

The grand hall of the court was silent.

Every seat was filled. Ministers lined both sides of the great hall, backs straight, eyes flicking from one royal to the other. Tension clung to the air like smoke, thick and stifling. At the center, the King sat unmoving on his throne, his expression unreadable beneath the weight of the crown.

You and Sieun knelt together in the middle of the hall, facing him. His posture was composed, hands resting calmly on his thighs. You sat just beside him in your formal court attire from the morning’s ritual, your hands folded tightly in your lap. Every rustle of silk and whisper of movement around you felt magnified. All eyes were fixed on the two of you.

The Crown Prince slowly stepped forward.

He bowed low to the King before straightening, his face composed with forced humility. “Your Majesty.” He began. “Forgive the weight of what I am about to present. I bring it not out of pride, nor ambition, but duty.”

The King said nothing. He gave a slow nod for him to continue.

The Crown Prince turned, addressing the room.

“There is no joy in revealing what I have learned. No satisfaction in uncovering betrayal. But the truth, no matter how painful, must be spoken. If we allow deceit to live within these walls, then what are we protecting?”

The council stirred. The Minister of Finance glanced at the Minister of Records, both frowning.

“I speak,” The Crown Prince said, voice shaking slightly. “Not as your heir today, but as a son. As a brother. As someone who trusted.”

He looked directly at Sieun.

“My brother has been careful in concealing it, but hidden things rot eventually. I have gathered what remains…What he tried to bury.”

Sieun did not react.

The Crown Prince stepped closer, pulling a folded paper from inside his sleeve. “These past weeks, I have received troubling reports. Discreet letters. Movements in the night. Strange orders sent without record through lesser couriers. At first, I thought it could not be true. I doubted it. I hoped it was a mistake.”

A murmur passed through the ministers.

“These letters,” He continued, “Bear the seal of Prince Sieun. They contain vague but deliberate orders. A plan to intercept royal messengers near the western post. One of them has gone missing. Another was found, dead..

A low intake of breath sounded from the far end of the hall. Minister Kwon leaned in, watching the reaction of colleagues.

For a moment, you forgot to breathe.

The words hung in the air, too heavy, too absurd.

Sieun would never do this.

You turned your head slightly towards him. His posture was still, gaze fixed forward. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t even flinched. Not a flicker of panic. Not even surprise.

And somehow, that steadiness grounded you.

Because you knew him. Knew the man beside you better than anyone else ever could. The calm in his eyes now was not guilt. It was resolve. Whatever this was—whatever accusation was being placed on him, he would not crumble under it.

The Crown Prince turned to the King. “I read all the words from the letters, weighed their meaning. It is subtle, but the intention is there. To remove those loyal to you, the King. To erode the foundation of the court. To set the stage for something greater.” He lowered his gaze, voice softening as if the words weighed heavy on him. “Father… I fear Prince Sieun is preparing to claim the throne. Slowly. Quietly. But the steps are already laid. These letters are the beginning.”

At that, the King raised an eyebrow, the faintest flicker of interest sharpening his expression. A shift passed through the court like wind through tall grass. From your place beside Sieun, you caught your father’s eyes glance sideways toward the him. You cringed at his stare.

“These are serious allegations,” The King said finally, gazing first at the Crown Prince, then at Sieun. “Is there more?”

The Crown Prince hesitated. Just for a breath. Then he lowered his eyes, as if wrestling with something deeply personal.

“There is, Father.” He looked up again, his voice softer now. More confessional.

“There are some matters I had not intended to speak of. Private matters. But the court deserves the full truth.”

A beat passed.

“There have been rumors. Whispers in the capital. I ignored them at first. I thought… perhaps it was just jealousy or idle gossip.”

He turned and made eye contact with you, and you sensed Sieun shift ever so slightly, his stillness sharpening.

“But the rumors are true… about me and Princess Y/N.”

Your chest tightened.

Gasps rose from a few corners of the court. Even your father, standing stiffly at the end of the chamber, went completely still.

The Crown Prince continued.

“I know I should not have let it happen. I am not proud of it. But before she ever became Princess—before she was bound to my brother—Lady Y/N and I shared something… personal.”

He closed his eyes briefly, the performance sharpened to perfection.

“We shared a bed.”

The world seemed to blur.

You looked back to your father.

Minister Han’s face gave nothing away. But his hands were clenched behind his back. You had never felt further from understanding his thoughts.

Was he believing the words of The Crown Prince?

You wanted to rise, to shout, to cut through the lies like a blade. But just as you shifted, just as your lips parted, Sieun raised a hand, stopping you without looking.

“I never forced her.” The Crown Prince continued. “It was not like that. I… I cared for her. That is why I asked that she become my concubine. I thought I could protect her. Keep her by my side. But Prince Sieun—he stepped in. He saw what was forming between us and asked for her hand before I could speak again.”

He looked toward Sieun now, no longer feigning hurt, but now painting himself as betrayed.

“Is that not the truth, brother? You always wanted what I had. And once again, you took it.”

A low murmur spread across the chamber.

Sieun said nothing.

Not yet.

But his eyes had gone cold.

The Crown Prince gestured towards you.

“She played both of us. Perhaps she was swayed by power or his lies... Either way, her presence here has brought nothing but division between your sons.”

Your chest was tight with fury. With helplessness.

Another voice entered the fray.

Minister Kwon.

“If what the Crown Prince says is true.” He said, just loud enough to be heard, “Then perhaps this match should never have been allowed to begin with.”

The room seemed to draw in a collective breath. Your fingers curled tightly around the folds of your robe.

The Crown Prince pressed further, turning once more to the King.

“I kept it to myself. Out of shame. Out of love, even. But the court deserves honesty. If Prince Sieun is capable of stealing a woman’s affections with lies, how can we know his intentions toward the throne are pure?”

You barely heard the rest. You were watching Sieun.

He was still.

Then, slowly, he stood.

His voice, when it came, was quiet—but it carried across the entire hall.

“Are you quite finished?”

The question hung in the chamber like smoke.

The Crown Prince didn’t respond right away. His eyes darted between the King and the watching ministers, measuring the effect of his speech. Finally, he nodded once.

Sieun inclined his head. “Then I would like to see the letters you claim are in my name.”

The Crown Prince hesitated. Not long, but long enough. Then, with deliberate care, he reached into the folds of his sleeve and produced a bundle neatly tied, marked with a faint red seal.

He stepped forward, handing them over to a waiting attendant, who brought them to Sieun.

Sieun accepted them calmly. You watched as his fingers moved across the surface, his eyes narrowing.

He unfolded the first letter and held it to the light.

“It true. It looks real.”

The Crown Prince’s shoulders shifted. A flicker of something passed across his face, perhaps satisfaction, though it was gone as quickly as it came.

Sieun looked up. “But on closer inspection… it doesn’t hold.”

He held the letter steady, so the court could see. “The seal looks authentic at first glance. It even mimics the slight feathering of the ink that comes from our stamp press. But the ink is wrong. It’s too dark. Almost a blackened red. Mine uses vermilion—made fresh weekly.”

Another pause.

“And here.” He said, tapping the edge of the stamped mark, “The impression is too sharp. Too clean. My press is slightly worn. It leaves a shallower mark around the edges.”

He turned toward the King. “Would Your Majesty permit a comparison?”

The King gave a subtle nod.

Sieun gestured. “Suho.”

From the edge of the chamber, Suho stepped forward, silent and composed. He approached with a sealed letter in hand—an authentic dispatch prepared by Sieun himself.

Sieun held both up, side by side.

“Compare the color. The depth. The edge of the print. One is mine. The other is not.”

There was no mistaking it now. Even from where you sat, the difference in the ink was clear. One bright and faded with time. The other almost freshly dyed.

Murmurs stirred among the ministers, a low rustling of unease sweeping through the hall. Minister Kwon sat rigid in his seat, his expression tight with displeasure as his eyes darted toward the Crown Prince.

Sieun finally lowered the letters and looked directly at his brother. “How did you come into possession of this forgery?”

The Crown Prince stiffened. “Are you accusing me of creating it?”

“I’m asking who gave it to you.”

“I received it from a loyal informant within the northern courier line. You may have ordered it to be intercepted and removed, but clearly, you had prepared for that. A separate seal. A different ink. You were careful.”

Sieun gave the faintest shrug. “Perhaps. That would be clever of me…But there’s one small problem.”

He stepped closer to the table in the center of the room and laid the forged letter on it.

“This letter slants slightly to the left.”

He waited, letting that settle.

“That would not be unusual—except that it indicates the writer was left-handed.”

He turned again, calm, composed. “And I am not.”

Silence.

Sieun looked to the King. “If necessary, we can bring in a scribe trained in handwriting analysis. A neutral party. They’ll confirm what I just said.”

The Crown Prince opened his mouth. Closed it.

Sieun bowed his head slightly. “It is a forgery. A well-made one, but a forgery all the same. If it had not come through my own informants weeks ago, I might not have caught it in time. But the seal used here… matches the others we intercepted in the city.”

Another silence. Heavier now. The chamber seemed to hold its breath.

The Crown Prince stood frozen, his confidence slowly unraveling beneath the cold pressure of evidence.

And Sieun, still steady, still calm, looked back at his father.

“I have never once moved against the throne. I have no need to. My loyalty has not wavered, even when others hoped it would.”

He let that hang in the air, then turned toward you. His gaze found yours, steady and unwavering. In that moment you saw the promise in his eyes, quiet but fierce. He was not finished speaking, not while your name was still being dragged through the mud.

Sieun turned back to the Crown Prince. His voice was quiet, but every word carried.

“There’s another accusation I will not let stand.”

His eyes were on his brother. Unblinking.

“You claim treason. That is serious. But now you bring my wife into this, wrapped in falsehoods and whispered shame. I will not allow her to be your next target.” He lifted his chin. “She has no voice in this chamber, so I will speak in her place.”

You could feel the heat rising to your face. But you kept still. Eyes forward. You refused to look away.

“If she were after power,” Sieun continued, “Then there would have been no reason to split her affections. You are the Crown Prince. You are the one who stands next in line! Any woman seeking only advantage would have given her attention to you alone.” His tone never changed, but the air in the hall shifted. Minister Kwon shifted uneasily. “She never sought your favor. And she did not share your bed.”

The Crown Prince started to protest, but Sieun didn’t let him continue.

“As for your claim that she gave herself to you before your proposal was brought to the King, that is easily answered. On the morning after our wedding, the sheets were inspected and documented, as tradition requires. They were delivered by palace officials and confirmed by court ladies. You may speak of guilt and shame, but there is no shame on her. Only on those who would spread lies.”

The Crown Prince’s jaw shifted. His expression hardened as he glared at his brother.

Sieun looked at the King. “Your Majesty, If the council wishes to verify this, the documentation can be brought here. I have no fear of the truth.“

Across the hall, the ministers stood still, their expressions tightening. A few exchanged glances, others kept their eyes fixed ahead. Unease moved through them in subtle waves. No one spoke. The way Sieun had delivered his words left little room for doubt. No one dared question him, not when he stood with such certainty.

Sieun’s gaze returned to the Crown Prince. “Do not use my wife to fight your battles, brother.” He paused, his jaw tight. “You thought slandering her name would corner me. But all you’ve done is show how far you’re willing to fall.”

The Crown Prince’s expression flickered. His certainty faltered, and the smug confidence he carried earlier began to slip. “I’m not lying.” He said finally, but the words lacked the force they once held.

He glared at Sieun, then briefly glanced toward his father, then the court, as if searching for support that was no longer certain.

You looked toward your father then, just briefly. His expression had changed. His lips were pressed in a firm line, his brow low. He was no longer uncertain. He knew now where he stood.

You felt something rise quietly in your chest. Not the bitter ache of shame or fear. It was warmth. Steady and certain. Pride.

The way Sieun stood. The way he defended you. It reached a place in you that words could not. He had spoken with precision and just enough force to shatter the Crown Prince’s illusion.

He was brilliant. Composed. Commanding.

In that moment, you loved him more fiercely than ever.

He stepped towards The King, the hem of his white mourning robe brushing the polished floor, and bowed low, his black hair falling slightly over his brow. When he straightened, his face was composed, but there was something sharp in his eyes, something that sparkled not with anger, but with clarity and resolve.

“In truth, I came prepared today.” He said. “I have remained quiet until now, but since we are bringing forth accusations, I believe it is time I speak as well.”

The Crown Prince had played his cards.

And now, Sieun was going to turn the board.

“I ask that the Queen be summoned to court.”

A murmur rose among the councilmen. Across the room, the Crown Prince scoffed in disbelief. He forced a tight smile as he turned toward the king. “Father, there is no need to bring Mother here—“

“You will be silent now.” The King said, his voice quiet but firm.

The Crown Prince’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He lowered his gaze, trying to appear unbothered, but his fingers curled tightly at his sides.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The command was given. Moments later, footsteps echoed down the corridor.

She entered with practiced grace, dressed in muted silk. Her steps were unhurried, her expression composed. Her smile was slight, polished, as if painted on.

“What an honor.” She said smoothly. “It is not every day that I am welcomed into such a lively gathering.”

You watched The Queen closely. Her eyes lingered on the Crown Prince just long enough for something unsaid to pass between them. Then she turned her attention to Sieun, her gaze sharpened but her smile never fading.

“May I ask.” She said, her voice calm and laced with disinterest. “What matter required my presence this morning?” She sighed lightly, a faint edge of irritation in the sound. “I was in the middle of a most difficult decision. Whether to select the pale celadon tea set, or the one with golden trim.”

The words fell into the still air like stones in water.

You saw several council members shift in discomfort, your father included. One or two glanced at The King to gauge his reaction, but The King showed nothing.

Sieun, however, did not even blink. He met her gaze with quiet resolve and let out a small chuckle, more in disbelief than amusement.

“Then forgive us for the interruption, Your Majesty,” He said evenly. “But I believe what is being discussed here today is of far greater consequence than porcelain.”

The Queen’s lips parted slightly, her eyes narrowing just enough to reveal the smallest crack in her carefully painted indifference. For a breath, she looked caught off guard. But then, just as swiftly, she smoothed her expression back into placid elegance. Her gaze drifted over Sieun, slow and assessing, then slid to you, pausing briefly on the white mourning robes you still wore.

“Oh,” She said lightly, as if just realizing something. “That explains the attire.” Her brows lifted faintly. “Of course. Today marks the passing of Lady Yeon.” She gave a soft hum, almost thoughtful. “How could I forget.”

She folded her hands before her, posture graceful, practiced. “May the spirits grant her peace and your household tranquility.”

Her tone was courteous, but lacked true reverence. The words carried the shape of formality, not of sentiment.

Sieun stayed quiet.

There was a pause. Just enough to make the moment linger. Then, with a thin smile, she added, “You and your wife should come to see me more often. The last time she visited, she seemed to appreciate the tea I gave her.”

Around the room, a few of the council members nodded politely, taking it as a simple social invitation. Nothing more.

But not Sieun.

His expression had not changed, but his eyes… his eyes looked wild beneath the stillness. Not loud, not violent. Just terrifyingly steady, as though a tide was rising behind his gaze and only barely being held back.

Your pulse quickened. You felt it.

And so did Suho.

He stood a little straighter, muscles tensing just enough to be ready. Not to fight, only to hold Sieun back if the moment called for it.

Then, slowly, Sieun drew in a breath. His gaze dropped to the floor briefly, as if grounding himself.

“Your Majesty,” He said smoothly, voice deceptively neutral. “May I ask something of you?”

The Queen blinked, still lounging with idle grace in her chair. “You may.”

“These past few years,” Sieun began, “you have overseen much of the palace’s domestic operations, have you not? The seasonal inventories, the guest arrangements, the management of the royal staff.”

She gave a slight smile, tilting her head. “Of course. It is a queen’s duty.”

“And access to certain storage halls,” He continued, “those used to house ceremonial items. Things of value. The archives and the royal workshop.”

The Queen gave a faint, almost amused sigh. “Yes, Prince Sieun. I hold keys to many such places. It is hardly a secret.”

“And,” Sieun said, still keeping his voice polite, “To the chamber where royal seals are stored. Including… older stamps? Prototypes that are no longer in use but still preserved.”

There was a small pause. Not long enough to be noticed by most, but long enough for you to catch it.

The Queen gave a cool smile. “Yes. The King and I are the only ones permitted to access that room. For security.”

“I see.” Sieun inclined his head slightly, as if satisfied. He then stepped forward, reaching for one of the documents laid on the table. Without a word, he held it out to the Queen.

“These were presented to the court today,” He said. “They bear my seal. Would you take a look, Your Majesty?”

The Queen accepted the parchment with graceful indifference, unfolding it with the air of someone examining something faintly beneath her.

Sieun’s voice remained even, though something colder now threaded through it.

“They’re fakes, of course. But they look terribly convincing. I was almost fooled myself for a second. To make these, someone would have needed a reference. A precise one.”

His gaze lingered on her, unwavering.

“My seal, however, has never left my estate. It is kept locked under watch. The only people with access to it are myself and no one else.” He exhaled slowly. “Well,” He murmured, “The only other possibility is that someone accessed the prototype. The casting mold.”

The Queen glanced down at the papers. Her expression remained composed, but a faint furrow appeared between her brows.

“And if I understood your earlier words correctly.” Sieun continued. “There are only two people in the palace with access to that room. His Majesty. And you.”

His voice quieted, almost gentle now.

“Is that correct?”

The Queen’s lips curled slightly, though something in her expression had hardened. “If you are implying that I forged those documents, boy—”

“No, of course not.” Sieun cut in, his voice sharp but composed. “You couldn’t do that by yourself now, could you?”

The shift in tone was subtle but deliberate. He turned smoothly toward the council, his gaze now landing on a different target.

“Minister Kwon,” He said, voice almost casual, “How fares your latest venture? I heard the grain stores in the western provinces are flourishing under your watch. Quite the improvement.”

Minister Kwon blinked, caught off guard. “Yes, Your Highness. The harvest was generous this season. We were fortunate.”

“Fortune does play a part.” Sieun agreed. “Though I find your profits outpace even the most generous harvests.”

A murmur rippled faintly through the council chamber.

“I’ve reviewed the reports. Your personal earnings seem to multiply in ways even the court accountants cannot explain.”

Kwon’s posture stiffened. “I conduct all my work in service of the Crown.”

“Of course,” Sieun said pleasantly. “And yet some of your dealings are… difficult to trace. No ledgers. No receipts. Just clean pockets. An efficient system.”

He stepped slowly along the inner circle of the assembly, letting his presence weigh on the room.

“Tell me, Minister,” Sieun said, almost idly, “have you taken up a new craft?”

Kwon blinked again. “A craft?”

Sieun stopped walking. His voice was soft, but carried clearly.

“Forgery, perhaps.”

Kwon stiffened. “Your Highness, I am no forger.”

Sieun offered a polite smile that held no warmth. “No? That is surprising. Several quiet forgeries have been traced back to your name. Small things. Land deeds. Birth records. Tax claims. Small matters, tucked away in quiet villages where the nobles never look. Easily dismissed. Easily overlooked.”

Kwon said nothing.

Sieun lifted the forged document. “This, however, is different. This is royal correspondence. With my seal.” He stepped closer, eyes cold and sharp. “To make something this precise, you would need a reference. A mold. But who could have given this to you, I wonder….”

The Queen’s voice rang out, sharper than before. “Enough of this.” She said coldly. “If Minister Kwon has involved himself in illegal dealings, then let him answer for it. But I will not stand here and be dragged into his disgrace.”

She looked directly at Sieun now, her gaze hard. “You speak with clever turns of phrase, Prince, but you have no proof. You build accusations from shadows and glances. Whatever crimes were committed, I had no part in them.”

Her eyes flicked briefly toward The King, her tone cooling further. “Your Majesty, I suggest we bring this spectacle to an end. It has gone far beyond reason.”

The King, who had remained quiet through the rising storm, finally stirred. His voice was calm, but it carried a weight that silenced even the Queen.

“Do you have proof, Sieun?” He asked. “You name a minister, and now you turn your gaze to the Queen herself. This is no small claim. What evidence do you bring?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Sieun’s lips. “I’ll show you.” He said confidently.

Without realizing, your eyes drifted towards the Crown Prince. He was trying to appear calm. Chin raised, shoulders square, fingers loosely interlaced before him. But the stillness was a lie. You noticed the tight clench of his jaw, the way his thumb pressed hard into the back of his hand. His knee shifted, then stilled again as though he caught himself.

“Suho.” Sieun called.

Suho stepped forward, already waiting. “Yes, Your Highness?”

“Bring her in.”

You sat up straighter.

Her?

A ripple of confusion passed through the chamber. All around you, councilors shifted in their seats. Councilors exchanged glances.

Your eyes turned slowly to Sieun, your breath caught in your chest.

He did not look at you.

The doors opened.

And then you saw her.

Seorin.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

It was like the floor had shifted beneath you. You stared, but for a moment your mind refused to believe it.

She looked small standing there. Eyes wide, face pale, hands folded tightly in front of her.

Seorin?

Your heart pounded. You couldn’t hear anything else. Just the rush of blood in your ears.

Why was she here?

You turned toward Sieun, still kneeling, your fingers curled tightly against your skirt. “What is the meaning of this?” You whispered, your voice unsteady.

He met your eyes. He said nothing, but something in his expression shifted. Not coldness. Not distance. Just a quiet sorrow, as if he already knew the pain this would bring you. There was no anger there. Only pity. And guilt.

His gaze lingered for a breath longer before he looked away, folding his hands behind his back, shoulders drawn a little tighter than before.

The Queen scoffed.

“That,” She said, her tone sharp and clipped, “Is your grand revelation? A servant girl?” She tried to sound amused, unconcerned. But something in her expression faltered. “Surely you do not expect the court to take the word of a maid as evidence.”

Her gaze slid toward Seorin again.

Quick. Tight. Uneasy.

You saw it.

The Queen was nervous. Not shaken, not unraveling, but watching. Calculating.

She hadn’t expected this.

You hadn’t either.

Seorin took one hesitant step forward, then dropped to her knees.

The sound of her palms striking the floor echoed through the room, startling in the quiet. Her forehead touched the ground as she bowed low before the throne, her voice trembling.

“Your Majesty,” She said, her words nearly breaking. “I humbly beg your forgiveness. I have erred and caused great distress. Please, grant me your mercy and guidance.”

Every eye was fixed on her, waiting for what would come next. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken truths and fears.

The King leaned forward on his seat, his voice steady but not unkind. “Speak freely, child. What have you done?”

Before Seorin could answer, the Queen stepped forward, her tone sharp with disdain. “Your Majesty, surely we are not entertaining the words of a servant. She’s clearly confused. Let us not waste—”

“Enough,” The King snapped, his voice suddenly cold. “Do not interrupt again.”

The Queen stiffened, her mouth still parted as if to speak, but no words followed. She stepped back slowly, her expression unreadable.

The King turned his gaze back to Seorin, softer now. “Go on.”

Seorin’s hands trembled where they rested on the floor. Her voice, when it came, was soft and unsteady.

“I… I never meant for any of this to happen,” She said softly. “Please understand. I never wished to betray anyone.”

Betray?

Seorin took another breath and lifted her head slightly, not daring to meet your eyes. “It began weeks ago. Someone came to me with information about my family. About their safety.”

Seorin’s voice trembled, but she kept her head bowed low, her hands clenched in her lap.

“They took my brother.” She said, barely louder than a whisper. “There was no warning. He disappeared one night, and the next day, I was approached. I was told he would be released if I did as they said.”

Your breath caught. You felt your heart thud painfully in your chest. Seorin didn’t look at you yet.

“The person told me I didn’t need to do anything dangerous. Just pass along information. I just needed to write notes and leave them near the back gate. He would come and collect it. I never saw his face. But I knew it was a man by his voice.”

She hesitated, as if each word weighed more than the last.

“At first, I only gave small things….Which servants were on night duty….When Lady Y/N would visit the inner gardens…. Which guards were posted….When the Prince would be gone for court…. I thought if I stayed vague, I could protect everyone.”

Her voice cracked. “But then he asked for more.”

You stared, cold sinking in your limbs.

“He told me to bring a document. Just one. He said it was only for comparison. To study how it was sealed. He didn’t explain more than that…” Her next words came slower, more hesitant. “But one night… I followed him.”

You turned your head, searching for Sieun.

He had not moved. His face was unreadable, lips pressed in a tight line. But when your eyes met his, there was something steady in them. Reassurance. He knew. He had known for some time.

“I wanted to see who it was.” Seorin continued. “He was tall, cloaked, moved like he knew the palace better than any servant. I thought he might vanish into the woods, but he didn’t.”

She finally looked up, her voice steadier now. “He entered through the back path and went directly into the Queen’s pavilion.”

The chamber burst into noise, louder now, startled voices rising from both sides of the hall. Ministers exchanged stunned glances, a few leaning toward each other to confirm what they’d just heard. The accusation had weight, and no one seemed ready for it.

The King’s head turned sharply toward the Queen.

Across the room, the Crown Prince sat motionless. His eyes fixed blankly ahead, jaw clenched so tightly it trembled. One hand gripped the edge of his robe, knuckles pale.

Seorin’s voice wavered now, quieter but still clear.

“I never meant to betray you, Your Highness ,” She said, turning her head slightly in your direction. Her eyes were teary. “I didn’t wanted to trouble you with my personal problems. You already had so much to carry. I thought… if I kept my answers vague, if I told only small things, it wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Her shoulders drew in, as if the weight of her words were folding her in half.

“I told myself it was harmless information at first. But then they wanted more and more…. And I realized I was part of something I could no longer ignore. I felt so guilty…” She wiped her tears from her eyes. “You showed me more kindness than anyone ever has. I only wanted to protect my family, but I should have trusted you. I should have come to you sooner. I’m sorry.”

Your throat felt tight. Words sat heavy in your mouth, but none would come. You understood why she did it. Her brother’s life was at stake, but still. It hurt.

Seorin returned her gaze to the King. “I will accept whatever punishment is decided, Your Majesty.“

You sat frozen, still processing everything Seorin had said.

The Queen shifted forward. “I must say,” She began, her voice calm, too calm, “This is quite the performance.”

All eyes turned to her.

She offered The King a mild smile, one that did not reach her eyes. “A servant, trembling on the floor, reciting half-confessions in front of a full assembly. It borders on theatre.”

The Queen’s gaze slid to you, then to Sieun. “And we are to take this as truth?” She asked lightly. “On the word of a maid who admits she has lied and misled those closest to her?”

Her tone held no emotion. Not disdain, not anger. Just ice. But you saw the way her hand gripped the end of her wide sleeve, fingers tightening for just a second too long.

“Perhaps she was coerced by someone else,” The Queen continued, “Or mistaken in what she saw. The minds of commoners are easily swayed. And the poor girl is clearly overwhelmed.”

You stared at her in disbelief, unable to understand how she could dismiss the accusation with such ease.

Sieun’s voice cut through the quiet. “It would be easier for you to say that. But sadly, we have another witness.”

The Queen’s expression stiffened, her jaw tightening as she held back a response.

All eyes turned to Suho as he stepped forward, his face unreadable but his tone steady.

“Your Majesty.” He bowed. “ I followed the man who threatened Seorin. I watched him enter the Queen’s residence. He came more than once. I had no idea who was at the time.”

The chamber remained silent for a moment before The King finally spoke, his voice calm but carrying weight.

“And who is this man? Minister Kwon, perhaps?”

Suho shook his head. “No, Your Majesty. Not Minister Kwon. But this man works with him. Closely.”

He turned slightly toward The King. “Are you familiar with the name Oh Jinwon?”

The name fell into the room like a stone dropped into still water.

The King’s brow furrowed. He leaned back slightly, as if turning the name over in his mind. “Oh Jinwon…” He repeated under his breath, as if trying to summon a distant memory. “That name…”

He was just about to speak when the Crown Prince suddenly stood up, his chair scraping sharply behind him.

“Enough!” He barked, his finger raised and pointing towards you, Sieun, Suho, and Seorin. “Do not listen to them! This is a farce. It is all orchestrated—planned from the start. They’re turning the court into a stage for their lies!”

The Queen flinched, ever so slightly. A few ministers shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting between the Crown Prince and the King.

Sieun blinked at the outburst, then gave a small, surprised laugh.

“Well,” He said, voice quiet but cutting, “That name clearly strikes a nerve.”

He tilted his head, watching the Crown Prince now with unreadable calm.

“I wasn’t certain before. I wondered if you even knew. But now,” Sieun said, his tone sharpening, “It’s clear that you do.”

The Crown Prince’s eyes shone with anger. He opened his mouth again, face flushed with fury. “You have no right to—”

The King cut in, his tone cold and final. “Sit down, Beomseok.”

The name landed heavy in the air.

The Crown Prince froze, caught off guard by the use of his name.

“This is your final warning.” The King said, not raising his voice, but making each word deliberate. “If you interrupt again, I will have you removed from this court.”

The Crown Prince’s mouth hung open for a breath too long before he slowly closed it, jaw clenched, eyes burning. His fists curled at his sides as he sat back down, stiff and trembling with restrained anger.

The King turned back to Suho and nodded once. “Go on.”

Suho inclined his head. “Oh Jinwon, Your Majesty.”

The King’s gaze narrowed slightly. “The name is strangely familiar,” He said, his voice low. “But I cannot quite place it.”

Suho stepped forward, careful with his words. “He served in the palace seventeen ten years ago. A royal guard. The records show he left after sustaining an injury. Quiet resignation, no investigation.”

The King’s eyes flickered, the name stirring deeper now. “Part of my personal guard?”

Suho nodded once. “Yes, Your Majesty. He was tasked with protecting both you and the Queen during court hours.”

The King’s brows drew together. His voice was quieter now, but edged with thought. “That was many years ago…”

Sieun inclined his head slightly and stepped forward in front of his Father. “Indeed,” He said, voice steady. “And it has been seventeen years since my mother died. Today, in fact.”

The King narrowed his eyes. “And what exactly are you trying to say, Sieun?”

Sieun turned his head just slightly, gaze shifting to Suho.

“Tell him what you heard.”

Suho hesitated. For a moment, he looked uneasy, as though weighing the weight of what he was about to say.

You could feel the tension in the room building. Ministers leaned forward. Even the Crown Prince stilled.

“Your Majesty… when I followed the man Seorin described—Oh Jinwon—I stopped keeping my distance. The Queen had begun sending her attendants away earlier than usual. I thought it was strange.”

Suho glanced once toward Sieun, as if asking permission to continue. When Sieun gave a small nod, he took in a breath.

“One night, I got closer. Close enough to hear them speaking. I couldn’t make out everything, but what I did hear…” His voice lowered, tinged with unease. “It was not the way any man should speak to his Queen. It was… personal. Intimate.” His jaw tightened. “And then… I heard more. What came after left no doubt in my mind.”

A hush rippled through the chamber.

The Queen said nothing. Her spine was still upright, but tension now sat visibly across her shoulders. She no longer met anyone’s gaze.

Then The King rose slowly from his seat.

He did not shout. He didn’t need to. The weight of his voice, when it came, was heavier than fury.

“Explain yourself.”

His gaze was fixed on the Queen, sharp and cold. “What is the meaning of this? Who is Oh Jinwon to you?”

The Queen didn’t answer right away.

For a moment, she blinked as if gathering her thoughts, then gave a soft, dismissive laugh. “I can’t believe we are treating a servant’s tale and a soldier’s assumptions as royal truth,” She said, voice as smooth as silk.

“I asked you a question.” The King said again, more firmly now. “Answer it.”

Her shoulders lifted slightly, and she gave a slow breath, as if weighing her answer. “He was a palace guard. Years ago. I have no connections to him now.”

Your eyes shifted to the Crown Prince. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his gaze stayed fixed forward. Not at his mother. Not at the King. Almost like he was trying to disappear.

The King’s eyes narrowed. “You expect me to believe that is all? A man seen entering your residence in secret. A man no one has spoken of in years. A man who threatened a servant loyal to this household.”

“I did not invite him,” The Queen replied. “Nor did I forge letters or issue threats. If this Oh Jinwon has threatened one of our servants, then he must answer for it. But I had no part in it.”

Sieun’s gaze remained fixed on the Queen, his voice calm but unmistakably pointed.

“Are you sure,” He asked, “That you have no connection to Jinwon?”

The Queen’s expression remained unchanged. “I am.” She said coolly.

Sieun’s eyes did not leave her. “Strange,” He murmured. “Because I’ve been wondering what could possibly drive a man like him to return after so many years. Why would a former royal guard, long dismissed from duty, involve himself with Minister Kwon? Why forge letters that frame me for treason?” He paused. “Unless he had something to gain.”

The Queen shifted, ever so slightly. Her clasped hands tightened.

“You say you have no connection to him,” Sieun said again, facing her now. “But what if that connection never ended?”

Councilors stared, some in disbelief, others already beginning to understand.

Sieun looked back at The King, and this time his voice softened. “You asked what I was trying to say. And I will not speak carelessly in your court. But I will ask this, Your Majesty.”

He turned once more to the Queen.

“What would Oh Jinwon gain… unless he was protecting someone he helped create?”

You heard the quiet gasp of someone across the chamber.

The Queen’s expression cracked, her mask of indifference slipping just enough to reveal something colder underneath.

“This is absurd,” The Crown Prince snapped, breaking the heavy silence with forced indignation. “You have no proof. You’re grasping at shadows.

The Queen’s voice followed, quieter now, stripped of her usual sharpness. “How could you… speculate something like this?” Her eyes darted between Sieun and the King. “How could you treat your own brother this way?”

The King said nothing. His gaze had dropped to the floor, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned slightly, looking away from the confrontation.

Sieun let out a soft, humorless scoff.

“Brother?” He repeated, eyes narrowing. “He was never a brother to me.” His voice was steady, but the pain underneath gave it weight. “He tormented me. Humiliated me. Wounded me. From the beginning, I was nothing more than a rival in his eyes. Not a sibling. Just someone to compete with. Someone to beat.”

His gaze stayed on the Queen, sharper now. “You ask how I could treat him this way, but he plotted my downfall. Lied to our father. Dragged my wife into his schemes. If anything, I have been far too kind."

A heavy silence stretched through the chamber, thick with revelation.

The Queen’s face remained composed, but too carefully. A few councilors shifted, eyes darting between The King and Queen with dawning unease.

You felt your chest tighten as your gaze turned to The King.

His expression was hard to read—caught somewhere between disbelief and realization.

Then, his voice came low, hoarse, almost to himself.

“Is this why she was killed all those years ago?” He turned back, facing the assembly. “Lady Yeon…”

The Queen’s lips parted, as if to respond, but no words came.

Not denial.

Not outrage.

Only the silence of someone who realized too late that something had slipped.

The King stood still, but something in him was cracking. You saw it in his eyes first. A shift. Like a man watching the foundations of his world begin to tremble beneath him.

“I recall now,” He said slowly, his voice roughened with memory. “She had seemed… distracted. Tired. But I thought it was the season. Or the court.”

His hand closed at his side.

“She came to me that afternoon. Said she needed a private word later. Something important. Her eyes were… sad.” He paused. “I said I would come after the assembly. I never got the chance.”

The words hung heavy, bitter.

“She was found dead before the sun had even set.”

No one spoke.

The King marched forward, each step echoing through the chamber until he stood before the Queen.

She no longer bothered to feign poise. Her stillness was tight and brittle, like ice stretched thin beneath silk.

“Could it be,” The King murmured. “That she found out what you were hiding? That you were sleeping with a member of my guard? That Beomseok…”

His eyes slid toward the Crown Prince.

The Prince didn’t meet them.

“…was never mine?”

The minister seemed to hold its breath.

He looked at his son—no, at Beomseok—with a grimace pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“I always knew,” The King said softly. “I tried to shake it off, tried to quiet the thought. But I always knew. Something was always off with you.”

Beomseok’s face had gone rigid. His hands trembled at his sides, but he made no sound. No denial. No attempt to speak.

The King turned away from the Crown Prince and slowly returned to his seat. He took a long breath, his jaw tightening as he steadied himself in front of the watching court.

“For the matter of Prince Sieun,” He said at last, voice solemn and heavy, “The evidence you have put forward is more than sufficient. You are cleared of all suspicion regarding any conspiracy against the throne.”

He shifted his gaze to you. “As for Princess Y/N, her name shall be cleared of all slander. Any person heard spreading falsehoods about her character or suggesting illicit involvement with the Crown Prince will face swift and severe punishment.”

There was a murmur through the court, some heads bowed in shame, others in silent understanding.

The King’s eyes flicked to Seorin, still kneeling, her head bowed low. “Your maid,” He continued, “Will fall under your judgment. You may decide how she is to be punished. As for her brother, I will see to it that the royal guard is sent to release him at once.”

Then, finally, his gaze settled on the Queen and the Crown Prince. They looked stunned, hollowed out by disbelief. The Queen’s painted face was pale. The Crown Prince looked shattered, fury and fear battling behind his eyes.

The King’s voice turned cold. “As for you,” He said, looking directly at the Queen, “I know what we were. Forced into a marriage neither of us chose. I know your nature. Stubborn, prideful, always grasping for what you believe is owed to you. When you want something, nothing stands in your way. I cannot pretend to be shocked by this outcome.”

He exhaled sharply. “Perhaps I spent too long turning my eyes from what was plain. But no longer. This ends today.”

He stood again.

“You will be taken to the palace prison,” He declared. “You will remain there until the time of your execution.”

A gasp broke through the room.

The Queen let out a choked cry. She stumbled forward, collapsing to her knees. “No. No, please,” She sobbed, her voice cracking. “You cannot do this. Please, Your Majesty, I beg you.”

The King did not respond. He looked at her as if she were nothing more than a insect.

And then she turned to you.

Still on her knees, she crawled across the floor, tears streaking down her face, makeup smudged into ruin. “Please,” She said, reaching for your hand. “Please help me. I welcomed you here. I— I only ever wanted what was best.”

You froze in place, too stunned to move.

Sieun was already beside you. He reached down and pulled you to your feet, his hand protective around you. Then he stepped in front of you, shielding you from the Queen’s grasp.

She clung to the hem of his robe.

“Please,” She sobbed. “You must understand. I only did what I had to. I was protecting everything I built. Everything I endured. Have mercy!”

Sieun looked down at her, his face unreadable. “You will receive the same mercy you gave my mother,” He said quietly. “None.”

The Queen let out a scream, but Sieun ripped his robe away from her grasp.

With a slight gesture of his head, The King signaled the guards. Two palace men stepped forward without hesitation and seized the Queen by each arm. She shrieked in protest, her voice ragged and trembling with disbelief. Her feet dragged against the stone floor as she was pulled away from the center of the court.

The King muttered under his breath, not even looking up. “Him as well.”

All eyes turned to Minister Kwon.

The man paled and bolted towards the door, pushing other ministers away. He made it only two steps before Suho moved. Quick as a snap of wind, he grabbed the older man by the collar and slammed him down against the polished floor.

There was a collective flinch in the room.

“I’m innocent!” Minister Kwon cried, his voice high and broken. “I swear it! I did nothing!”

The King did not even spare him a glance. “Take him away.”

Palace guards rushed forward to relieve Suho, who stepped back calmly. Minister Kwon was dragged out of the room screaming and swearing vengeance, his protests growing fainter the farther they pulled him down the hall.

The King then turned to Sieun.

“And the cloaked man?” He asked, his voice heavy with the weight of everything that had just unfolded. “Where is he now?”

Sieun answered, his tone even. “We’ve been tracking him. At this hour, he should be at Minister Kwon’s establishment in the city. He has been working there under a false name.”

The King nodded once, and raised his voice. “Bring him.”

At his command, more guards filed swiftly from the room, their footsteps echoing through the silence that followed.

You looked across the court, heart still pounding. The room that once seemed so grand now felt smaller somehow. Thicker with truth. And consequences.

The Crown Prince had not moved.

He stood perfectly still, shoulders stiff, his gaze fixed somewhere near the floor. As if by sheer will, he believed that if he did not speak, if he did not breathe, they might forget he was still there. But no one had forgotten.

The King, now seated once more, looked down at Beomseok as if seeing him clearly for the first time.

“You have brought disgrace upon the crown. Upon this court. Upon me.”

Beomseok’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His face had gone pale, his posture stiff, as if he still thought that if he stood still long enough, none of this would reach him.

“You are not worthy of the title you once held,” The King continued. His voice rang out, heavy and final. “As of this moment, Beomseok, you are no longer Crown Prince. You will be stripped of your title, your privileges, and your name in the royal registry.”

A collective silence followed. Not even the rustle of silk or breath from the court dared break it.

“You will be exiled,” The King went on, each word deliberate. “To a remote province far from the capital. You will live as a common man, under guard, and you will speak your name to no one. You will never again set foot within these palace walls. You wanted power, Beomseok. And now you will learn the weight of losing it.”

Beomseok’s legs gave out. He dropped to his knees before the throne, staring up in stunned disbelief.

“Father,” He whispered, voice shaking. “Please… I am still your son.”

The King didn’t answer. His face was as cold as stone.

Sieun, standing just a few paces away, didn’t smile. He only watched in silence as the former Crown Prince trembled before them all.

Your hand found Sieun’s without thinking, and he gripped it back—quietly, without looking away.

The guards approached Beomseok. He did not resist, only stared with hollow eyes as if the throne room had already disappeared around him.

But then, a figure stepped into his path.

Sieun.

Beomseok blinked, confusion flickering across his face as he raised his head.

Sieun looked down at him. There was no triumph in his gaze. No pride. Only something softer beneath the steel—sadness, perhaps, or understanding.

“You were never my brother,” He said quietly. “But I see now… you were never given the chance to be anything else.”

Beomseok flinched.

“You were raised in a palace of lies,” Sieun went on, voice lower now. “Fed by ambition and hate, told to win a crown at any cost. I was taught to survive. You were taught to conquer by The Queen. Maybe that’s why we ended up here.”

Beomseok’s lips trembled, but he said nothing.

Sieun stepped closer. “I won’t forget what you did. And I won’t forgive it. But I won’t hate you either.” He paused. “What your mother made of you… that was her crime too.”

The silence between them was heavy.

Then, Sieun turned away and walked back to you. He didn’t look back as the guards lifted Beomseok to his feet.

But as they began to lead him out, Beomseok looked over his shoulder—one last time—at the only person in the room who had spoken to him without hatred.

His gaze lingered on Sieun, almost searching, as if trying to hold on to the last shred of something human in the wreckage of what he had become.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The King gave a quiet instruction to an official nearby. The man bowed and left at once.

Word would be sent to the Crown Prince’s wife and concubine. They would be removed from the palace.

If they chose to follow Beomseok into disgrace, it would be their decision. But if they wished to part ways with him, a residence would be arranged for them—quiet, respectable, and well-appointed. The King would see to it personally that they were provided for, away from the scandal and the shame. He would not punish them for the sins of the man they had once served.

No more poison would be allowed to linger in the royal walls.

And as the chamber slowly began to clear, the weight of everything that had transpired settled like dust in the silence.

Sieun still stood close beside you, his hand wrapped around yours. His thumb moved slowly across your skin, a silent comfort he hadn’t offered anyone else all day. You felt his gaze on you before he spoke.

“Are you alright?”

You turned toward him and gave a small nod. The truth was, your heart was still pounding, your mind still catching up—but his presence steadied you.

He studied your face for a moment, then gave a faint smile. “Today was a lot. I know that,” He said gently. “But you stood with me. You trusted me. I’m proud of you.”

The words hit somewhere deep, unexpected.

“I’m proud of you too.” You whispered. “I love you.”

His eyes met yours, shining quietly, full of something tender and steady.

Just then, the King cleared his throat softly, drawing your attention. You and Sieun both turned to face him.

He looked at Sieun, his voice lower than before, but heavy with meaning. “My son. Your mother would be proud of the man standing before me.”

Sieun bowed his head. “Her justice has been answered at last.”

The King gave a slow nod, the faintest trace of a smile pulling at his lips. “Then I pray you are ready for what follows, Crown Prince.”

And then—one by one—the ministers began to bow.

Not out of obligation, but acknowledgment. Respect. Every man in the chamber lowered his head to Sieun, the weight of their gestures marking the moment.

Sieun inclined his head, his face composed, though his grip on your hand had tightened. You stood beside him, heart full, gaze steady.

He was ready.

And so were you.

Where the lotus had once withered, something had taken root again. Maybe this was how things began again. With truth. With trust. With love

Some part of you knew it already. What had broken didn’t stay broken forever. It grew back. Different. Stronger. And this time, you were not alone.

tagg list: @niyzu @hemmosfear @stxr-lilac @sieunah @miraluvsyou @tokkitel @kaykay0315 @emswirls @kamiliora @poeticias @lili-of-the-dream @moodyhuesworld

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kelsunnie · 3 days ago

Text

What Isn't Said (Deltarune Kris X Reader)

HI GUYS LONG TIME NO SEE I'M VERY SORRY FOR THE DELAY BUTBUT FINALLY ITS HERE AND DONT WORRY CHAPTER 4 IS IN THE WORKS IM LITERALLY WRITING IT RIGHT NOW AS WE SPEAK FOR NOW ENJOY THIS ONE LOVE U ALL

Chapter 3: A CYBER'S WORLD?

Kris and Susie instinctively pull out their weapons, with Kris�� being a sharp sword and Susie’s, as you’ve seen before, is an axe. You thought that their weapons fit their personalities, but it made you wonder about the grappling hook. You didn’t even know when and how to use it properly, and you’d hate to use it to hurt anyone.

“Wait! Why are we fighting them? Shouldn’t we, like, maybe… help them?” You tried to reason with the two.

“Well, yeah, dingus. We’re gonna do that,” Susie shot back, gripping her axe, “We just have to figure out how first.”

You swallowed hard, glancing between the sparking creature and your friends. “Okay… okay. Think,” you stared at the scenario around you, trying to piece together something that could help ease both sides.

And then—

“… Susie, throw me.” Kris’ voice cut through the tension, low and flat. Their eyes didn’t meet you or Susie, but their voice sounded determined and rushed, like they were trying to finish things up quickly, which you don’t really blame them for.

“WHAT?!”

Susie hesitated for half a second, then let out a low chuckle. “Man, you’re weird. But hey—whatever gets it done.”

“No, wait! What??? Obviously, don’t! They’re gonna get hurt!”

“Okay, suuure, but do you have any ideas? Maybe throwing Kris at the enemy will help,”

“Well…”

“… The wire. Throw me near the wires.”

“No no no wait. Wait a second. Okay,” you gestured for them to wait, hand on your head, “Okay, I get what you’re trying to do now.” You ran a hand through your hair, trying to calm the panic in your chest.

For the briefest second, you thought you saw it — the faintest curl at the corner of Kris’s mouth. A smile. But it was gone too fast to be sure.

“I have an idea.”

You raised the grappling hook, gripping it tighter, “Let me try something. I can maybe hook the wires—pull them loose, cut the power. We won’t have to hurt Kris at all.”

Susie stared at you, then gave you a smirk, shrugging, “Huh. Alright, nerd. Let’s see what you got.”

You took a deep breath, and with all your strength, swung the grappling hook towards the Werewires in a curved manner.

“Please, don’t hit them…!” you whispered to yourself, anxiety creeping up on your back, scared of your hook hitting the Werewires. The hook sails in the air as it gets smaller in your point of view, until you can see it reach near the Werewires, quickly pulling it slightly to help make the rope wrap around the wires. The grappling hook obeyed, catching hold, but only snaring one of the cords. Once the rope of the hook clung hard enough, you yanked it. The wire trembled, then snapped loose from the Werewires’ body, falling harmlessly to the ground.

“Damn, I only got one,” you cursed through your breath, frustration bubbling in your chest, “Think you guys can handle the other one?”

“On it!” Susie smirked, glancing at Kris for a plan.

Kris stepped up behind her, cool and focused, resting their arms on either side of them as if bracing for takeoff.

“Alright, then, you weirdo,” Susie grabs Kris by the waist, holding their blue-skinned friend from above while waiting for Kris’ signal.

“Go,” Kris steadily commanded Susie.

“Kris!” You cried, panic rising in your voice.

With barely a heartbeat to spare, Kris drew their blade mid air, slashing cleanly at the wire. Sparks flew as the wire snapped loose, unraveling from the Werewire’s body before dropping to the ground with a thud.

“Are you both crazy?!” You barked, breathless from the sight.

Neither of them answered at first—Kris adjusting their stance calmly and Susei brushing off her hands like it was nothing.

“Throwing Kris aside,” Susie came up to you, face looking smug, “We make a pretty good team.”

“… I can’t deny that,” you exhaled, shoulders still tense, “But that was reckless. What if Kris got hurt?”

Susie shrugged, “Well, they’re not, aren’t they?”

“I’m not.” Kris answered, their voice steady.

“… That’s good to hear,” you muttered, relief finally washing over your body.

“Well, it was nice fighting after so long!” Susie faced Kris, eyes glinting with excitement, “Now let’s go catch up to Queen!”

Suddenly, a couple wires dropped from above, hitting the previous pink creatures, transforming them into the Werewires you recently fought.

“… Or not!” All of you quickly readied yourselves,

Until the two Werewires dropped on the ground, as if they fell asleep, the power cords no longer attached and fell on the empty space.

“Huh? They calmed down?”

“I just used my PACIFY spell to put them into “Sleep Mode”!” came a cheerful voice from behind.

“Ralsei! You’re here!”

Ralsei? you thought to yourself. You turned to the unfamiliar but kind sounding voice and your eyes widened. The Ralsei they spoke of looked a lot like Asriel, except way shorter and softer, wrapped in green with a pink scarf. Your heart twisted a little. It shouldn’t have surprised you. After all, this world had already broken every rule of logic the moment you woke up alone in a strange outfit with a grappling hook in your hand. But still, seeing that face—the one you used to look up to like a big brother—made your chest ache in a way you weren’t prepared for.

You’re not him, you wanted to say. But you remind me of everything I’ve lost.

You quickly tried to compose yourself, shaking your head in an attempt to get rid of your thoughts about the new arrival’s physical appearance.

“I felt a dark presence and hurried over!” Ralsei ran towards all of you, a cheerful smile plastered on his face, “I’m so glad you’re all okay.”

His gaze shifted to you, soft and warm and he spoke your name, “I’ve been hoping to meet you.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait… how do you know my name?”

Ralsei beamed, the adorable goat looking extremely adorable in your eyes, “You’re the star that will mend the bonds!”

“Whaaaaaat?” You blurted out in disbelief, voice raising up to an octave, “This isn’t some game or something, right? I’m probably dreaming all of this, yeah. And what does that even mean?”

“Well, I can help you understand by telling you our history and prophecy!”

“Okay, I think that’ll—”

“BORING!” Susie suddenly groaned, cutting you off, “No more of your fairytale speeches, Fluffyboy. We’ve heard it all before.”

Ralsei flinched, his ears twitching, “But.. But they haven’t…”

“And if we stand around yappin’, Noelle’s gonna end up having her face be turned into a robot or whatever Queen’s got planned,” Susie added, crossing her arms with a loud huff.

You blinked between the two of them, still stunned, “Wait. What prophecy? What ‘star’ thing? What does this have to do with me?”

Ralsei looked apologetically toward you, his hands nervously wringing together, “I… I’ll explain everything soon. I promise.”

“So this isn’t some kind of dream?”

“We’ll talk about it after we save Noelle,” Susie turned around, walking ahead of you, “C’mon, she’s waiting. If we don't do something, she might be..."

You stood there for a second, reeling, glancing at Ralsei, whose worried but hopeful eyes stayed on you before forcing your feet to move. His eyes were gentle, but seemed to be clouded with something unspoken. Whatever he meant earlier still echoed in your head like a riddle half-whispered. The questions in your mind piled higher than ever, but for now, you had no choice but to follow and listen to their conversations.

One of them will slip eventually. What is this place anyway? You thought with a quiet huff, scanning your surroundings.

“You’re pretty worried for someone you barely talk to,” you eyed your purple classmate, “No offense, but you’re kind of mean to everyone.”

“Well–!” Susie faltered, quickly crossing her arms and looking away, “No! I mean… she’s… nice… I guess. That’s all!”

Then, more defensively, she added, “Aren’t you supposed to be her friend? You’re just messing around in OUR Dark World!”

You blinked, stunned for a second. That stung more than you expected.

“... I didn’t ask to be dragged into this,” you muttered, your voice quieter but sharp, “but I’m not about to stand by and do nothing if Noelle’s in danger.”

The group fell silent for a beat. You glanced at Kris, hoping for something—anything—but their face was unreadable, eyes distant like they were watching the scene from a step outside themselves. You felt a pang in your heart, thoughts rushing in your head like a dam that broke open—does Kris care about Noelle? Do they care about you? Do they care about your friendship? Their expression unsettled you more than you admitted.

You turned your gaze back to Susie, softening just a little, “I just want her safe, too. That’s all.”

Ralsei quickly stepped in, “Worry not, everyone! All we have to do is seal the Fountain!”

“… Yeah. Yeah! Can’t be mad about another adventure, right?!”

Dark World... Fountain... You echoed in your mind. Right. I’ll remember that.

“C’mon, Kris!” Susie called out, already cracking her knuckles with anticipation.

Then suddenly, they all turned at once, striking familiar poses—Ralsei smiling with his arms raised playfully, Susie’s hand on her hip while the other is curled into a loose fist near her chin, a smirk plastered on her face, and Kris…

You stared for a beat too long. Kris had their arms crossed, their back facing you—silent, unmoving, like they were trying really hard to be mysterious.

“... Are you guys always this theatrical?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

No one answered. You blinked, the three of them still holding their respective poses.

“... Seriously?”

Ralsei giggled softly, “It’s tradition!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, sigh, or start walking away. Instead, you just muttered, “Okay… Sure. Pose break. Got it,” and reluctantly struck your own awkward stance, hoping no one was watching.

Susie smirked, “Not bad, nerd.”

Kris didn’t comment on your pose, but you thought—just maybe—you caught the tiniest twitch of a smile. Your cheeks burn from embarrassment, swearing to yourself over and over that you were never going to do that again.

“… Let’s go,” Kris said quietly, their voice echoing just enough to pull you all forward again.

Your group pressed on, footsteps rhythmically echoing around the unfamiliar space. Questions still lingered in your mind—about what Ralsei knew about you and the prophecy he was supposed to tell you. Susie seemed to know something about the prophecy, did Kris know about it, too? Did they know anything about you and your involvement? You glanced at the trio walking just ahead. Ralsei was humming a soft tune, his cape swaying with each bounce in his step. Susie was grumbling about “another detour” and “just wanting to hit something already.” And Kris—Kris remained unreadable, walking just slightly behind the others, silent as ever. Why didn’t they say anything back there? Why was it that you, of all people, were "the star that will mend the bonds"?

You sighed, scratching your head in frustration. There were too many questions, but too few answers.

I guess I’ll wait for Ralsei’s explanation later.

The four of you head to a cliff with yellow arrows—something you were familiar with in this world. Without thinking, you moved first, stepping ahead to scout it, until a sudden tug at your shirt pulled you back. You turned in surprise.

Kris stood behind you, hand still gripping your clothes, “Long way down.”

You turned back to the cliff and almost immediately fear washed your entire body. One step closer and you would’ve been down there, laying flat.

“… Thanks,” you whispered to your childhood friend, your pulse still hasn’t slowed.

“I’m going ahead, nerds,” Susie called, already sliding down the slope with a confident huff, “try not to fall off the cliff or whatever!”

Ralsei hesitated for a moment, glancing between the two of you, “I’ll make sure Susie doesn’t accidentally break anything… or anyone.” He offered a small, warm smile before following after her.

Their voices and footsteps faded. You and Kris were left in silence, a long pause. And then—

“... Hand,” Kris spoke up, their voice quiet but firm.

You blinked. They had extended their hand to you—calm, yet a little hesitant. Not demanding, but… waiting. You look up, meeting their crimson eyes. Something about the gesture made your chest ache a little. Their gaze felt familiar, unlike the ones observed from them just moments ago. You weren’t sure if it was the same person you’d been watching just minutes ago—the one who felt distant, cold, almost mechanical. Kris didn’t say anything else but continued on staring at your eyes, gaze unreadable but grounded.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and reached for their hand. Their grip was steady and surprisingly warm, making your heart beat a little faster than you’d like to admit.

Hand in hand together, you both took the first step down. Sliding on a dangerously long slope while holding hands with your childhood friend in an unfamiliar place with robots and moving wires was certainly not your kind of supposed study session. Still, the warmth radiating on Kris’ hand and the comfort you’ve longed for all this time made the chaos feel… bearable. You tried not to think too hard about how tightly you were holding on—or how tightly they held back.

As you and Kris slid further down the slope, a blur of grey, gold, and booming bass erupted from above, matching you and Kris’ pace while sliding down. A short, square-headed figure zipped into view, its body shaped like a living speaker, with wobbly wires as limbs and their speaker-looking head bobbing rhythmically. An 8-bit music groovy enough for you to bob your head mid-air was playing from its head… speaker.

“Wait, Kris, who’s tha—” Before you could finish your sentence, something hit Kris. Not physically—but rhythmically. A glowing beat-shaped projectile slammed into their chest, knocking their balance off. Their grip on your hand tightened as they stumbled, pulling you slightly forward. You gasped, nearly toppling over yourself as you both continue falling.

“You okay?” you yelled over the wind, hoping Kris could hear you, “Whoever that is, they better not be the one doing that!”

“... Yeah,” Kris gritted out, hand still gripping yours tight. Then softer, almost out of breath—“You’ll be okay.”

“Wha—?” You whipped your head toward them, heart racing, “What do you mean me? You’re the one who just got hit!”

But Kris didn’t answer. Their eyes were locked ahead—focused, sharp. Another rhythm-laced projectile lit up the air, pulsing toward you both.

“… Duck!” they barked, and instinctively, you dropped low just as the beat whizzed past your head. Your body slid faster from the shift in weight, and Kris tugged you closer, using the momentum to steady you both. The air roared past your ears as you kept sliding, dodging glowing notes and gripping Kris’ hand like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Then finally, after a gruelling session of dodging and intense hand holding out of pure survival, your feet hit solid ground. You staggered forward, nearly collapsing, but Kris held on, pulling you upright.

You gasped for breath, hair windswept, adrenaline still spiking in your veins. “Okay… that was not in the library’s afterschool plans.”

Ahead, the square-headed figure skidded into a pose, striking a confident pose as it flies, or hovers away.

You looked at Kris, still catching your breath, “Okay. What is happening right now?”

Kris, still unusually calm, gave you a look that said: Welcome to the Dark World.

“Took you nerds long enough,” Susie shouted from the end of the slope, a toothy grin spread across her face, “C’mon, let’s go!”

You were about to speak out about what just happened when your eyes landed on the scenery in front of you. The sky was painted dark blue with a green web enclosing the whole space. Countless tall buildings emerged from below, a few of its lights shining bright enough for you to squint your eyes even if they were miles away. Everywhere you looked, it was all neons, metals, and technology, making for what you surmised was some kind of cybernetic city. A huge sign hovers near the pathway, the words ‘CYBER WORLD’ glowing in neon green.

You took a step forward, feeling the cool metal beneath your footwear reverberate softly. “… This is where we are now?” you muttered, more to yourself than anyone.

“Welp. Cool, I guess?”

#deltarune #kris dreemurr #deltarune x reader #gender neutral reader #kris deltarune #noelle deltarune #reader insert #susie deltarune #ralsei

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remyfire · 15 hours ago

Note

Ooh subtle smut prompts! "I like being close to you, you're warm" for rabbot, if the spirit moves you?

This was so fun to write!! Thank you, anon :D I hope you enjoy!! Subtle Smut Starters [AO3 Crosspost]

Part of Robby accepting that he is middle-aged has been recognizing how his body is changing. He needs to stretch his legs thoroughly after a shift so they don't get too knotted up and fuck with his knees. He's begun to consider a multi-vitamin geared toward men in their fifties. And, whether he likes it or not, he can't tolerate the cold as casually as he used to. It's not that he isn't familiar with frigid winters—he's lived in Pennsylvania for the majority of his life, before the rising temperatures from climate change began to make themselves known—but he needs to wear more layers for longer. People will have to pry his hoodies and jackets from his dead hands.

He doesn't think on this very often—has instead altered his lifestyle and closet to make more room for extra layers that aren't constrictive—but it comes to him while he's at the movies with Jack, catching a late-night showing of what was supposed to be a decent action flick. He's not sure he should trust critics ever again. The movie isn't engaging. It's not even keeping his mind off of the fact that the theater has him chilled through to the bone, hoodie or not. So while a buxom brunette hangs off the arm of a gung-ho, muscular man at the very tippy top of a building while explosions go off all around them, Robby does everything in his power to blow up the HVAC system with his mind. It does not work.

If he and Jack were at one of their apartments, then Robby would know what to do. Clearly he'd start by messing with the thermostat, if Jack's desire to keep everything just so allowed such a thing. But if that wasn't an option or if he was already cozy right where he was, he'd simply lean into Jack and give him a few good snuggles. Then they'd stay wrapped up together for the rest of the movie. But it's very different when they're in a public theater. It doesn't matter how late it is, there are still people in the room, and whether he'd like to admit it or not, he's afraid of what their response might be to the sight of two grown men cuddled up close. Frankly, he's also concerned how Jack would react if somebody was an asshole. All he needs is his knife-carrying veteran lover to get his dander up.

His nerves do not change the fact that he's shivering, however. He should've worn a sweater under his hoodie, but how could he have known that the theater would be colder than a witch's teat?

When Robby wriggles in his seat for the tenth time in so many minutes, Jack shoots him a look, lips curved in a barely there smirk. "You can go hit the head," Jack drawls under his breath. "Pretty sure I can summarize whatever happens while you're gone."

"There's something to summarize?"

"Sure. And if there isn't, I'll make it up."

"Whatever it is will be a hell of a lot more interesting than this."

Jack huffs a chuckle. "It's brain-rotting entertainment. What more could a guy want?"

In all honesty, Robby...likes being out with Jack like this. It's one of the first times they've gone out together on what is very clearly an official date, not just a prelude to a hook-up. They had dinner before this, and Jack had toyed with Robby's fingers on top of the table, lacing them, not pulling away when the waiter had come to take their order. Call him a fool, but he's in no hurry to leave and break the spell that's settled over him tonight, no matter how shitty this movie is.

He is still cold, though. And if this is a date, then maybe...maybe they could... Maybe it would be all right if they...

Christ, you're a grown man. A doctor. You make major decisions on the fly for a living. Will you just do something?

Robby tries to make it subtle, how he nudges the armrest between them so it lifts up. Though Jack's not touching it, he still turns his head the moment that Robby takes the chance, because of course he does. War vet. He's probably aware of a couple dozen more things than Robby is at any present time. His reflexes are sharper than Robby's and always will be. Just the tiniest change in anything from a patient to apparently an armrest is instantly noticed by his eagle eyes. For his part, Robby keeps staring at the screen, though he knows his cheeks are turning pink the longer that Jack stares at him.

Without a word, Robby finally tilts toward him and rests his cheek on Jack's shoulder. Jack snorts. "What's this about?" he asks softly.

"I like being close to you, okay? You're warm. So sue me."

"Why the hell would I do anything to make you stop?"

Robby blinks. The flush is now traveling down his throat. If nothing stops it, it'll flood into his chest where it'll really embarrass him. Yes, he's a grown man, and yes, he's chronically afflicted by perpetual blushing. He'll consider himself fortunate that Jack just thinks it's cute, even though it means Robby has to suffer so much teasing about it while Jack's spreading him out in his bed (okay, so maybe it doesn't make him feel that bad).

Before Robby can fashion a reply, Jack murmurs, "Here," then unzips his own hoodie. He's only wearing a thin white t-shirt beneath it. How he survives, Robby has no idea. The miracle of genetics and all that. Robby lifts his head long enough for Jack to shrug the garment off, but when Jack offers it to him, Robby doesn't reach for it. "C'mon, just put it on," Jack murmurs.

"It's not gonna fit," Robby insists. Jack's arms are thicker than Robby's, but Robby is overall stockier than his lover.

"Not if you don't try it, that's for sure."

Robby rolls his eyes. The heat's trickled into his chest. Never once has he had someone remove something they're wearing and offer it to him. That's always been his job. He can still name the exact scent of half a dozen women who he's dated, how he'd lend them his jackets, then bury his face in the sweet-smelling fabric once they were returned and he was alone. Jack dangling it in front of his face is enough to turn him into a flustered mess.

Jack scoffs. "Fine." Then he drapes it over Robby's lap. He throws an arm around Robby's shoulders next and pulls him back in with a chuckle. "What, are we gonna have to start bringing a blanket everywhere we go, old man?"

"Old—" Robby lifts his head and shoots him a look, trying and failing not to be stirred by that smug expression he's wearing. "Oh, fuck you very much. Y'know, your chances of getting laid tonight are decreasing by the second."

Jack does not look the least bit intimidated. Whatever power Robby might've had to bring him to heel disappeared years ago. "Mm, that's a shame," he murmurs. "What if I get you laid instead, how 'bout that?"

"I just told you—"

"No, no, I won't get anything out of it. Only you will." He rests his hand high on Robby's thigh; lava bubbles up on that very same spot.

They both know that the minute Jack makes Robby come, all playful reluctance to let Jack do the same will be thrown to the wind. It's maybe kind of pathetic, actually, how quickly Robby will spread his legs or open his mouth nice and wide for Jack while his orgasm is still rolling through his veins. But what's he supposed to do? Act like he doesn't want the guy inside of him every second of every day? The one he's pretty sure he's in love with? Robby's done the whole island-unto-himself thing. He's sick of it.

Robby shivers—he feels disgustingly fond of Jack when his response is to hold Robby closer—and takes a shaky breath. "Wanna cut our losses and head out?" he asks, already prepared to grab Jack's bag and get the hell out of dodge.

Jack's lips twitch, eyes sparkling. "What's your hurry? We paid to see a movie, didn't we? We've still got at least a half hour left."

"No way. Are you honestly enjoying this shit?" Robby's brows shoot up.

Jack shrugs. "Maybe it'll redeem itself in the end."

"Yeah, by killing the guy off so we don't have to listen to him screaming every time he lays into somebody."

Jack's hand slides a little higher, bringing all of Robby's thoughts to a stop. "We don't have to go anywhere for me to keep you warm, that's all I'm saying."

Robby's heart skips a beat, then thunders onward. "You're not serious."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Even higher still. Another inch and he'd be able to feel Robby's dick through his cargoes. As Jack tips his head with playfulness radiating from his intense gaze, he takes his hand on a detour, moving to the side so that he can slip under the hoodie in Robby's lap. Then he gives his pocket a little tug.

He is, in fact, very serious. Fuck. Robby turns around, craning his neck, wide-eyed, making a note of the location of the other three people in the theater. Two of them are making out so feverishly in the back that Robby'd be surprised if they hadn't beaten them to getting their hands in each other's pants. There's a woman with a massive tub of popcorn who seems more than happy to have an entire row to herself, sprawled out like she owns the place. They're nowhere near Jack and Robby. Not even close.

When Robby looks back at Jack, he's biting his lip, and he knows that gets Robby going, the way it makes him look a little bit like a dirtbag, like a guy who just took Robby out so he could get his dick wet. Jack leans in until his exhales tickle Robby's lips. "What do you say, babe? You want me to play with you, don't you?"

Robby nods quickly enough to make his neck ache. Of course he wants it. Of course he wants to feel like a teenager again, messing around in a movie theater with somebody for the first time—only it's a man, not a girl who everybody told Robby was fast but who was just as happy to come home and lie around with him in the afterglow, reading together without a stitch of clothing on. He hadn't realized how many firsts he still would experience once he started dating another man, nor how addictive it would be to check them all off, one by one.

Jack doesn't wait for any verbal confirmation. Just gropes his thigh again with a bruising grip, making Robby hiss and wriggle in his seat. "Shh." Jack grins like a kid in a candy store. "C'mere, baby. You just sit back and let me make you feel good."

Robby doesn't miss the fact that he was anxious as all hell to cuddle up to Robby, but that now he's seriously considering letting him get him off in public. It's different, his brain bleats. It's under a hoodie.

One that'll make it pretty damn clear something's moving under it? Robby's more sensible inner voice retorts.

But then Jack's hand slides higher still, cupping Robby through his pants, and said sensible voice is promptly shoved inside of a pillowcase, a knot tying it closed before it's chucked over a waterfall. Jack makes Robby into this eager creature too easily. He'll tease Robby sometimes about Langdon following him around like a puppy, wanting nothing more than to be liked by him, but for better or for worse, Robby knows how it feels to enjoy someone's company so damn much that he'll do anything to get a smile of approval out of them. Jack Abbot just so happens to be at the top of that list.

Jack nips at the shell of Robby's ear with a hum, sending electric sparks scattering through his system, running through every inch of his veins before they all meet in his pelvis. In seconds, he's hard enough to ache, and the pressure through two layers of fabric isn't enough to grant him relief. Robby bites his bottom lip as he bucks against Jack's palm, but then his hand disappears, and Robby uses every ounce of self-control not to whine at the loss.

"What'd I say?" Jack whispers. Then he sucks Robby's lobe into his mouth, laving it with his tongue, his quiet moan vibrating the sensitive flesh. "Don't do a thing. Let me take care of it."

"You're a tease," Robby accuses under his breath.

He can feel Jack's shit-eating grin, one of the rare ones that stretches across his entire face. He follows it with a kiss on the cheek. "No teasing tonight? Okay. Heard." And then he goes for Robby's belt. He has an unfair amount of dexterity in his left hand. It works his buckle open in less than ten seconds.

Fuck. It's happening. It's really, really happening. Robby squeezes his eyes shut as his breath catches.

"Mm-mm. Watch the movie, Robby."

"Fuck you," he hisses. But when Jack lifts his palm away again, Robby's taken by surprise by the rush of despair, and there's no holding back his whisper-thin whimper this time. "Okay, okay, okay." He'll stare at the bright screen, but that's all that he can manage.

He never meant to need Jack this badly. Robby had all but set himself up for a long future alone, believing himself to be too set in his ways, too confident in his inability to be wrong, that there wasn't anybody who could handle him at his worst, that his best wasn't nearly good enough to make the bad worth it. And then here's fucking Jack Abbot. Calm. Slow to anger. Patient. In therapy, for fuck's sake, and not in a sanctimonious way either. He's made it perfectly clear that the resources are there for Robby whenever he's ready for them. He isn't pushy. He snuck through Robby's defenses under darkness in a stealth mission before Robby even realized that he was anywhere close by. And now Jack's unzipping him, then tugging Robby's belt loop until he lifts his hips enough for Jack to ease his pants and boxers down. And Robby's letting him. And Robby's going to let him do anything he fucking wants, anything at all, just so long as Jack comes home with him tonight and holds him when the inevitable nightmares peck at his brain.

He thinks sometimes that he really would do anything for Jack too, if given the opportunity. And every day, he is realizing more and more that he may very well receive it sooner than he thinks.

"There we go," Jack breathes when Robby's cock bounces free from its restraints.

Robby licks his dry lips and swallows past the nervous knot in his throat. "I'm gonna ruin your hoodie."

"You sure are, big guy." He doesn't sound the least bit perturbed. "It's not the first time you've marked up my clothes, is it?"

The rush of heat through him is so sudden and overwhelming that Robby buries his face against Jack's neck. When Jack takes him in hand, he's grateful for his instinct to hide because it means his low moan is muffled further by his skin. The guy plays with Robby like it's a science that he's perfected, knowing to gather his slickness in his palm before he goes anywhere near his shaft. Knowing that Robby loves a twist of the wrist whenever Jack reaches his tip. His other arm is still around Robby's shoulder, and he traces his fingertips up and down his throat, tingles and shivers that only accentuate the pleasure with pinpricks of overstimulation.

It's ridiculous how good it is. He shouldn't get to have this kind of attention or bliss. Lightning should strike him right here where he sits for daring to take a chance on love again after everything he put women like Heather through. And yet the movie keeps playing. They are undisturbed. Whatever cosmic vengeance that Robby keeps anticipating decides to wait for another day. And something about the brush of Jack's kisses on his cheek feels like absolution for sins that Robby has been unable to name.

God, he's too fucking perfect at this. Robby pants against him as Jack picks up his pace, his grip so tight. His forearm must be bulging. Fuck, fuck, his arms, his body, covered in freckles from top to bottom, dusted with dark hair that hasn't yet gone silver, so strong, every inch begging for Robby to get on his knees and worship him, marking him from head to toe. His mind catapults him back to the last time that Robby was inside of him, how effusive praise dripped from Jack's lips like the sweat beads falling from his brow, and without another thought, Robby sinks his teeth into Jack's neck and sucks and sucks and sucks because there isn't any other fathomable way to keep himself from mewling so the whole world knows what a lucky son of a bitch he is to have caught this man in a trap that he hadn't even known he was setting. Jack's wedding band is palpable, rubbing against Robby's cock as he tugs him, a symbol of eternal devotion, a constant and crystal clear reminder of what kind of tough act Robby is following. For the first time in a very long time, Robby has been waking up every day with the impulse to recite Modeh Ani.

Just like Jack, Robby's orgasm sneaks up on him, and he bites down hard as he whimpers and shakes through the ecstasy bleeding out of his very marrow. Jack grunts, then groans, long and rough, as he slows his fist before he can overwhelm Robby. He fondles his softening cock for a few moments more—he's always been amused by how he can make Robby twitch and gasp with so little effort once Robby's actually relaxed into the sheets, helpless but to surrender all of his tension to the pleasure.

Once Jack releases him, it takes Robby a few seconds more to realize that he should do the same. His jaw actually stings when he opens his mouth. He's stunned he didn't draw blood. In fact, he's...he's...

He's marked Jack. Right there on his neck. Where everyone will be able to see. Robby's eyes widen; his heart picks up the pace all over again. It's dark. Massive. And it's only going to get more noticeable before they both work tomorrow. "Oh, my God," Robby whispers.

Jack's smirking like the cat who ate the canary. With absolutely no regard for his hoodie, he uses the fabric to rub Robby dry, then cleans off his own hand. "Y'know," he breathes back, "if you wanted to make it official, public, all that, you could've just asked."

"I'm so sorry. I'll, uh, fuck, I'll buy some...what the hell do they use?"

"Concealer?" Jack asks, chuckling.

"Yeah. There's a drug store on the corner, right?"

"Robby." Jack cups the back of his head and turns him to look him dead in the eye. "Listen to me." Then he rests his other palm on his cheek. "I'm not saying no. You understand?"

Robby blinks.

With an amused and fond shake of his head, Jack sighs. Then he rests their forehead against Robby's, and for a long moment, they simply breathe in tandem. Then he whispers, "I'm not gonna walk into work tomorrow and run my mouth about who gave me this. Unless you want me to. And then I'll do it happily."

Robby tries his hardest to understand what he's saying, really, but his entire brain is bluescreening. Him. Them. Together. Public. And then it hits him with the force of a runaway train, and before he can think, Robby grabs his face in both hands and slams their mouths together hard enough to hurt. He just gave them both bruises and he's sitting here with his dick out while his cum dries on Jack's hoodie and he could give less of a shit about any of it.

Jack's grinning when he pulls back. "That a yes?"

"That's a let's go home and talk," Robby murmurs back, as though he's not beaming with every muscle in his face.

"Home, huh?" Jack rubs the tips of their noses together.

The words catch on Robby's tongue. He can't say it. Not yet. Can't even begin to dream of having a home with him. And Jack seems to understand this. He steals one more gentle kiss without a word, then reaches under the hoodie to begin putting Robby's clothes back to rights. He's wearing a secret smile, the kind that only makes the edges of his lips quirk, but that lights his eyes up brighter than the sun itself.

Something is changing tonight. Something that makes Robby stand and stick his hand out the moment that he's decent again. And Jack lets out a deep, pleased sigh as he takes it and lets Robby tug them away from the movie and out of the theater and onto the road that's possibly leading them toward the rest of their lives. And for the first time in a very, very long time, Robby feels fledgling hope burning in his chest.

#rabbot #robbyabbot #abbotrobby #robby x abbot #abbot x robby #the pitt #pitt fic #my writing #ask meme replies

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hero-of-the-wolf · 3 days ago

Text

Deep Shadows Analysis

all pictures belong to @/linkeduniverse

“I grew up in these woods.” The first sentence ever spoken in LU and a very strong opening. Time is in the lead here. It makes sense; not only is he their de facto leader, but he knows this terrain best. Warriors speaks next, continuing where Time left off. He says that they’re lost. This sets up the dynamic these two have and their role in the chain of command, for lack of a better word, very nicely. The last panel of the first page has Time reacting to something the audience can’t see yet, enticing them to continue reading.

He then gets absolutely bodied by this moblin. These guys are a HUGE pain to fight in Ocarina of Time, they really do come out of nowhere to hit you like a heckin freight train and that power and alarm is captured wonderfully here.

The monster gets snagged by Twilight’s clawshot and we get this really lovely reveal of all the other Links standing ready to fight, emphasizing how none of them are alone anymore. They’re a team! This is also the first time we see all of them together in the comic (minus Time, who is still on the ground rip)

Legend’s got his bow drawn, and he's the first one to attack. His arrows embed into the moblin’s forearm while Hyrule sneaks around to slash at its thigh. It manages to increase the slack on the chain, freeing up its movement enough to counterattack, but the traveler leans back out of the way. By this point Wild and Warriors have circled around to flank the monster.

But Sky? He rushes to the old man’s side, who concerningly still hasn’t gotten up, to check on him. Sky is consistently one of the first to react whenever someone gets hurt or needs help during battle and I love that this trait of his (probably from his training as a knight on Skyloft) is already established within the very first few pages of the comic!

Time waves him off, and together they watch as Warriors stabs the moblin in the back… only for it to turn around, wretching the captain’s sword out of his hands, and smack the side of his face (right on the eye it looks like!) so hard he goes down for the rest of the fight. Ouch. This is definitely not the normal difficulty level for a monster like this.

Legend, power gloves equipped, works with Twilight to tighten the clawshot’s chain and limit the moblin’s movement again. Wind takes the opportunity to CUT THE MOBLIN’S HAND OFF. Which is. INSANE. But to be expected from the Hero of Winds. Also Four’s got his bow drawn here, but afaik he never actually uses it in this battle.

Then Wild, in a quintessential showcase of Breath of the Wild’s combat, scales the moblin’s back (using Warriors’ still embedded sword as a foothold!!) and pulls out his own sword to attack. But the moblin is faster here and grabs him by the arm and tosses him away. His arm might be broken, given the way the champion clutches it for the rest of the battle. Four is at his side, unused bow still in hand. It is of note that Sky is nearby as well.

Then Hyrule!!! Using the iconic Down Thrust move from his second adventure (Adventure of Link) and probably also his jump spell, falls out of the heavens like a stooping falcon and stabs the moblin right in the back of the neck, finally felling it. Teamwork!

Hyrule stumbles back and Wind is quick to wrap an arm around the traveler and cheer. Hyrule is bashful here, but not uncomfortable. My favorite underrated duo <3 (also they’re nearly the same height here????? what????)

Warriors finally wakes up. (His poor eye, man 😭) I love all of their smiles as the adrenaline from the fight starts to come down, the relief in this panel is palpable.

Then Twilight, as worried about Time’s wellfare as he ever is, is shaken from the moment as he turns his attention to the old man. He’s finally back on his feet, though based on his posture here it doesn’t seem like it’s been for long. Legend has a hand outstretched, it looks like he wants to help steady the other hero or otherwise check on him, but Time waves him off.

Time worries about the strength of the moblin. He did not participate in this fight, but he just had a front row seat to just how hard it was to bring this monster down and how injured they all got in the process: Warriors’ eye, Wild’s arm, his own side… that’s a good third of their team significantly wounded enough that none of them were able to rejoin the fight. Against a moblin that Time had been able to take down all on his own previously. He’s right to worry. Twilight is still quietly worried too, in the background.

Legend cracks a joke to relieve the tension, prompting Time to praise their efforts. Then he continues his previous train of thought, musing about how Not Normal the entire encounter was, and we get a really cool visual representation of a voice over as we see Warriors retrieve his weapon and clean off the blood, subtly hinting at its later significance.

We get a name drop of our antagonist (side note: I think it’s interesting that it’s Four who calls it by name, “the Shadow”, when he’s also the one who’s previously had experience with a Shadow in his own adventure) and the significance of the blood is explicitly pointed out. Twilight then calls attention to their wounded, setting up his role in the group as the heart <3

With the threat gone the fairies of the forest return and heal both Wars’ and Wild’s injuries and attempt to heal Time as well, but he waves off their concern (after they’ve assumably already healed his side), establishing a lovely little rule of thirds and emphasizing his reluctance of having others worry and fret over him (“Don’t fuss over me”), which is very ironic considering what happens later on….

It seems that he shooes them away from his face specifically, seeming to imply to me that the fairies were interested in the old wound that claimed his eye. Obviously there's not much that can be done about that now, but it’s still interesting to note 🤔

Warriors finishes Legend’s sentence next (which Legend notably doesn’t seem to mind), we get some more emphasis on the blood, and the boys are off!

We end on the second ever shot of all of the heroes together, Time included this time (ha), and the words “seems we are on the right path to understand the cause of our meeting,” which is assumably still Warriors talking. I’m not sure if there’s significance or not in how they’re all standing here, but it’s incredibly epic all the same.

This first little arc is such an excellent and clever way to set up the basic premise of the entire story and to introduce all of our main players here, and I continue to be ceaselessly amazed by Jojo’s keen attention to detail. All within 20 pages of gorgeous art!

#I didn't mean to make this analysis tbh I just thought I'd write down some Observations while rereading LU and then I had over 1k words 💀#I love how much we can learn about the characters just from this arc #like how insane both Hyrule and Wind are—#wonder if this fight is foreshadowing the final battle hmmmm #it'd be cool if Jojo called back to it 👀#lu chain #lu analysis #linked universe analysis #linked universe #lu #long post

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thewitchblue · 2 days ago

Text

"Please, we need you."

Dick was not above begging. He desperately needed your help. You don't bother looking away from cooking your breakfast. He broke into your apartment to plead for your help. Why are they bothering you this time? You retired years ago. You said flatly,

"No."

Of course they would come to you. Your power is biokinesis, and you hate using it. The ability to control the processes within every living thing felt unfair. You could control their blood cells, the photosynthesis of plants, you could use their stomach acid to attack their organs, and there are so many body horrors you can do. You could ruin people. Permanently, if you aren't extremely careful.

You can control vital organs, snap or fuse bones by controlling the calcium, and knit muscle together by manipulating the protein and blood controlling the muscles. It was overpowered, and you felt no joy in your abilities. It's beneficial, yes, but you became their crutch when someone goes rogue, and now that you are retired, you have become their last resort panic button. What's even happening? Did the Justice League become evil again? Doesn't Bruce have plans to neutralise them?

Younger you were in love with being a hero and being the best. Older you now realised how robotic and fruitless the fighting always has been. You gave up your suit. You gave up that life.

"Hate to break it to you, cupcake, but you're needed. Get in your suit."

Jason said as he, too, crawled in your window. He paused to look at Dick. They appeared to have the same idea to recruit you without discussing it among themselves. You sighed. You don't even have your suit anymore. You got rid of it to stop the temptation to return. You retired. You're done. Why can't they respect that?

"Even if I wanted to, I destroyed my suit. I'm not going out there."

The eldest brothers looked at each other as Tim also crawled in. What is this? A clown car? Where did he come from? Tim admitted sheepishly,

"We made a spare suit for you. Y'know... just in case you came back?"

He was rudely shoved out of the way by Damian. The two glared at each other for a moment before both of them gave up on their combined annoyance. Dick said,

"This is an emergency. Every other hero has been taken over except us."

You shut off your stovetop and plated your pancakes with a scowl. They deal with something like this monthly. What is the big issue now? You grabbed your fork and maple syrup.

"This happens all the time. Why do you need me now?"

Silence followed your question. None of them wanted to admit why they came to you. After a long moment of silence, Dick, ever the leader, decided to tell you since nobody else was saying anything,

"Bruce has been taken over as well."

You nodded. That makes sense then. Bruce is their beacon. Who they all turned to for any plan when there is little hope left. Still, you didn't want to come back.

"Constantine?"

"Out of commission."

"Plastic man?"

"Taken over."

"Wally?"

"Outrunning it, but unable to help."

You groaned. Obviously, they would take the League first and foremost, but the backup heroes are also taken over? What about the all of the other solo heroes?

"Am I really your last option?"

You were perplexed. Why are you among the last to be mind controlled? Was it something in the food? Tim shrugged. He explained,

"You were a missing hero. They don't expect you to come out of retirement."

You took a bite out of your pancake as you contemplated what to do. They obviously need your help, but the fight would be taxing. You're out of practice, too, so you'll be more tired than previously.

Nobody can fight someone who could fry their brain or fuse their muscles together to prevent movement, but it would take a lot out of you to fight so many heroes at once. You finally said,

"Let me finish my breakfast first."

And so they all awkwardly lounged around your apartment as you ate, to your amusement and their stress. They all felt a timer going off, but you felt like dragging your feet until you could feel your responsibility to the world suffocate you.

"When did you take this picture?"

Jason cried in outrage, holding one of your various framed photographs. You snickered. That's the photo of Jason cuddling with Artemis, clearly asleep but Jason was smiling so serenely and she was clearly trying to struggle away from Jason's iron grasp without waking him up like a trapped bunny struggling against the inevitable.

"And when did you take this?!"

Dick said as he held up his favourite plushie that you stole. He had to buy a new one after months of searching. In your defence, he never came to you and never asked for it. You said defensively,

"It was a souvenir! I took something from everybody. I stole Tim's old Superboy shirt that's honestly kind of embarrassing. Why is Kon shirtless, Tim?"

Tim decided it's best not to answer that question. Kon gave it to him. He found it in a store in Thailand and decided it was funny enough to give to Tim. Neither of them talk about it now, and it turned into a pyjama shirt for when everybody else is out of the house. It was so poorly photoshopped that it would be a shame to throw away. It's better to hide it. They laughed about it every time they looked at it now. Even Bernard found it funny when Tim showed him the shirt.

Damian stared at you with raised eyebrows. What did you take from him? He didn't notice anything missing. You gave him a sharp smile before getting up to do the dishes. You innocently said,

"Jon actually willingly gave me a goodbye picture. Does that cheek kiss mean anything?"

Damian froze as all eyes turned to him. He looked disgusted in the photo, but you could tell there was something there. What's with the Bats pining painfully for the Supes? Bruce isn't any better. They actually kissed (while undercover, but you snapped a photo and blackmailed him for weeks).

"Are me and Dick really the only normal ones?"

Jason was in disbelief. Did they break the Super curse? You scoffed,

"Dick is the only normal one, and even he dated an alien. I know about your past situation with Kara, Jason."

Jason, Jason, Jason. Always the "I'm too tough for love," but he thrives on it.

What is up with all the Bats pining aliens anyway? Tim let his crush go when he aged and met Bernard (who he never shut up about to his friends), Bruce let go of his Clark crush the day after their kiss, but Damian is still hesitant to admit he may be gay and kind of annoyed he is so similar to his father. Even their taste in men are the same, gross.

"Is there a point to your useless questioning, or are you ready to fight?"

Damian asked with crossed arms. You chuckled. He's just mad Jon gave you that photo. You have a lot of photos all over your home. Some petty, some wholesome, some purposely ugly. You had a little bit of everything.

Dick found the photo of Bruce very comfortably kissing a startled Clark. It looked like they were going to make out judging by the way Bruce was holding him and the robbers in the background. Bruce was undoubtedly thinking of a plan, but you managed to snap the picture after locking the tugs into place by fusing their knees together and their wrists to their hips.

Dick decided to question you about this after the fight. Your feet cracked as you walked to the window, drawing their attention back to you. You locked your window and opened it again.

"Fine. I'll fight."

You said before you crawled out of the window. The others quickly followed until everybody realised you had no idea where you were going, so Dick took the lead. You asked,

"What's the plan then? Am I fighting alone?"

Jason looked at you as if you were crazy. Alone? No. They are too antsy to sit around and do nothing. If they can be useful, they will be useful.

"Never alone, cupcake."

Jason said. You didn't know how to feel about that. They are incredibly useful, yes, but you weren't sure if they would get in your way or not.

You put on the suit in the Batcave with a sigh. Back to this chaotic storm. You said after a pause,

"You'll be the guards then. I'll work on frying the control."

The others nodded. That works for them. They need to be doing something, or they would feel useless.

You all arrive to where Bruce was last tracked to be and found a massive base. You scowled as you eyed the ranks. Most of the sidekicks would be easy to take care of, but the big members were more challenging. The control would be more established.

You decided to target Batman first in the meantime. Batman has everything possible in his utility belt, no matter how unlikely something will happen with the wits to back up his fighting prowess, so he's one of the biggest threats to your crew and you. He's dangerous.

"This is going to hurt."

You warned just before shutting down various parts of his brain. You grimaced as you forced the mind control out of him. It was a battle of wits that Bruce eventually was able to join in helping the more you pushed out.

You closed your eyes and winced. Even with the help, whatever is in control was digging their way through you as well. Bruce was the easiest one with his mental fortitude. What will happen with the others? What will you have to do for Clark? Or Wally with his speedy thoughts? Could you even keep up with his thoughts? The idea made you nauseous already. They are going to be the hardest. Wonder Woman might be the next best target. She'll be the next easiest because of her godly genetics, and she can help in the fight against Superman.

You succeeded in releasing Batman's mind control and immediately moved onto Wonder Woman. She's a massive threat already to the Bats. Batman can join the fight, but even he will struggle with Wonder Woman. He'll have to rely on the others for help while he figured out a way to take her out.

You scowled when you entered her mind. The mind control is becoming smart. It moves locations now. You have to chase it through the brain and even through the nerves and veins in the brain.

It's sentient, you realised. You thought maybe it was just a device or someone else, but no. They are a hive mind of living beings. It's a parasite that you have to chase through their brain to "cut" out. You have to cut their feeding ground.

You hissed in pain as you moved through the heroes. You have no idea how you will deal with the aliens like Starfire and especially the Supes. You had to double-check that you didn't transfer the parasite to yourself multiple times.

There are so many heroes and so many devastating combinations that you had to break up. Everybody was in chaos, but the Bats worked as smoothly as a well-oiled machine. It would be admirable if you weren't so preoccupied with both fighting heroes and killing the parasites.

The League was getting overwhelmed. They were struggling to fight off the horde of sidekicks that they trained, and the solo heroes weren't easy to take down either. You were working as quickly as you could, but these parasites are so quick in their squirming and don't give up. You were trying to fry them out and starve them without causing any lasting damage on anyone. You were so, so, so careful in protecting them that it was slowing you down substantially.

You were also being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers. Would it kill the League to stop picking up sidekicks? You managed to share with the telepaths to look out for a parasite and to distract it until you can get to the hero, but they were also struggling by the numbers.

You shuddered. You needed more help. Could you get Constantine to help at all? What about the other magicians? You weren't sure there was any more help to have. The parasites are smart and learn from each other. When one goes down, they all learn. Soon, you'll run out of tricks, and who's to say a similar parasite won't come back again? There could be more out there.

You almost collapsed when you finished the last hero, shivering. There are at least 30 sidekicks turned into newly made heroes, not even counting the League and the solo heroes, but you managed.

Before anybody could hug you or even thank you, you were gone. You slipped away silently, but everybody knew that you saved the world. You were the main and only reason they won.

The earth isn't conquered, and the heroes don't have to be killed by the Bats. You left a note to Batman about everything you learned about the parasite, but you left the clean-up to the telepaths. They can assess any damage done to the heroes better than you ever could.

You did your best to heal the damage done when you had to shut off parts of the brain in your mission, but you know the telepaths will be much better suited than yourself with assessing mental damage. Everybody was perfectly normal and functional, at least, so that had to count for something, right?

You undid all the fused bones and locked muscles as you left the building. The sound of seemingly hundreds of bones cracking back into place again is a sound you wished you weren't familiar with.

The following screams haunted your memory as you watched everybody fall to their knees in agony. You fixed their muscles and bones, so it's to be expected to be agony.

You had to decommission everybody at some point in order to work out the parasite without fuss, so everybody was in severe pain. Nothing but agony follows you, but they are all healthy, and that's all that matters in the end.

You went home after dropping off the suit into the BatCave and collapsed on your couch. Now, you can relax and retire once more. You sighed in relief at the thought. You don't know how many heroes you helped, but it felt like far too many.

You really hated being a hero.

#gn reader #platonic batfam #vigilante reader #x reader

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soundop-central · 2 days ago

Note

RE: your post about rebranding to megasound-central. I've always thought the best flavour of megop has soundwave squeezed in the middle, and the best flavour of wavewave has megatron off to the side only half in frame. Which is to say megasound too also is only improved by optimus being in there somewhere. I understand you.

AJDBWIXBWIZWH

megasoundop is the only brand of megop that i can tolerate, not even going to lie.

i just think that both of them need a sort of buffer there. soundwave fundamentally understands megatron (imo), and has a knack for coming to deep and accurate conclusions about others. meaning that if he spent enough time with optimus, he'd probably end up liking him.

ive always shipped megasound, like how ive always shipped wavewave and optiratch. there is so many of my favourite dynamic tropes wrapped up in this ship (i.e.: knight/lord, guard dog/leash holder, devotee/idol, etc.). i've always liked ships that have subtle power dynamics wrapped up in a morally grey (or straight up evil) bow. megasound has always been "universe's worst enabler/universe's worst warlord" to me.

i havent always shipped soundop. i actually pavlov'd myself into shipping it just because i came up with a really funny crack au that accidentally sent soundop careening from "silly nonsense" to "oh god, they're actually really good". soundop isn't as cut and dry to me as megasound- there arent a lot of dynamic tropes that actually fit them, so it's hard to quantify in simple terms what their relationship would be like. but its based on agreements, a mutual acknowledgment of the past and the future, respect and understanding. it's a lot of work, but it's rewarding.

i love both megatron and optimus as characters, and i totally recognize why the fandom ships them (ESP the idw and tfo side) (though, side note, i do actually like dpax; my opinion on megop is very nuanced and continuity dependent.) either way, i just dont see it working after literal millions of years of war without someone to act as a sort of mediator. whether that be in a romantic or platonic position, its up to whoever is doing the interpreting; but here's my take.

so we've got this guy (soundwave) who's basically sworn to this other guy (megatron), and the depth of his oath has become pretty muddy to both of them, even teetering on blasphemous if one looks hard enough. their (now ex-) enemy is an all around pretty Okay dude (optimus). while he's definitely tried to destroy everything they've done, they have also tried to do the exact same thing to him. and now that it's all done and over with...

well hey, why not? optimus seems amicable. he's definitely still sympathetic to them; remembering their time together before the degeneration that the war had become. maybe it would be worth it to try and test the waters.

i see it as an enemies to friends to lovers deal on all sides. everyone has to want it, has to work towards it, has to put in that effort.

soundwave is very suspicious of optimus at first, and frustrated that megatron would simply welcome him in so easily. optimus has to earn soundwave's trust. soundwave is protective of megatron- it's hard to undo 4 million years of protecting him from the very person he's now let in their home.

optimus is, understandably, a bit intimidated by how... intense... the vibe is. he feels like he's constantly in hostile territory. but he also knows that he's the odd man out. he resents having to earn his place, but also understands that if they want to have any hope at success, he needs to have soundwave's trust.

megatron is... both delighted and cautious. he's probably the one who's walking the thinnest line. it was his idea, he's the one who kept touch with optimus, he's the one who wanted to at least try. he convinced soundwave, no easy feat, and optimus, only slightly easier. he has the trust of two people that he cares very much about on the line.

it's definitely stressful.

both optimus and megatron are stubborn mechs. megatron has a temper and optimus has a no nonsense attitude. both of them can bicker back and fourth for hours, and to anyone on the outside, it would look like a normal conversation. yet, it is bickering, and despite how much both of them try to deny their own internal feelings, it does leave them a bit more hollow each time.

megatron never wants to apologize; he can only admit fault if he's given irrefutable proof of wrong doing. it's like pulling teeth.

meanwhile optimus is trying so hard to be reasonable, but also firm in his stances. he wishes to help both soundwave and megatron adjust to a life without war- while he can barely do that himself.

but soundwave, at first, would be doing this for megatron. as always, he's the self-sacrificer, the one who will do whatever is asked in order to further their goals. that much hasn't changed, even if the rhetoric has. yet, as time goes on, he slowly begins to enjoy this arrangement. which is something he never expected.

soundwave is adaptable and level headed; able to parse out fact and fiction within a blink of an eye. as he slowly grows more confident in his identity beyond just being megatron's most trusted, he finds himself growing more and more satisfied by finding another ship in the sea that is loving megatron.

anyway, tl;dr - they're gay. painfully so. theyre also traumatized and like not having a good time usually. but they're trying to fix that and make it work. and if that isn't real love idk what is.

#asked and answered #megasoundop #megop #megasound #soundop #i kind of went off the rails here but alas #i am a yapper at heart #transformers #maccadam #maccadams

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alexa-yukiyu · 1 day ago

Note

I guess the same thing i mentioned before but a different scenario

Anticlimatic Secrets ft Crossguild

A/N Ahhh Here we go!! Almost thought I woulden’t make it for today but here we are! We got some actually Uncle buggy time in this one! Finally got an idea on how to include him \0/. Hopefully this one is what you were looking for!

Reader here is replaced by Dokucha which stabds for reader in japanese for the enjoyment of both reader and oc character reader both!

Consider buying me a coffee!

Dokucha let out a sigh. They had once again successfully avoided their father. He was powerful beyond belief, but if he was the strongest, then his child was the sneakiest, something they juiced every time, especially during hard times like these.

It had been a week of narrowly avoiding and escaping their father. He was a busy man so it wasen't hard to play it off as the reason why they sudenly din't have much time together but their father was many things and naive was not one of them. Regardless of how busy Mihawk was, he had now begun to notice the quick exits the child would make, the excuses that would leave their mouth as soon as the two would have a moment together, the convenient chores that popped up when the man had found free time to spend with them.

When he began noticing the behavior, he let it go on, with nothing more than glances and raised brows, but they knew more than anyone that his father had no patience for such things, which meant that now their father had realized that they would not talk unless confronted. Dokucha had the upper hand when it came to avoiding the man, what with their small size, a fruit built for agility, a presence easy to hide, and an overall talent for sneaking in and out without being seen.

However, Dokucha had not considered his influence over those around him, whom he could easily convince to aid him with a minor inconvenience, such as a runaway child.

"Hello, Uncle Daz!" Dokucha cheered, gleefully approaching the man, who responded by simply giving them a court nod.

"I brought Cruncle the papers he was looking for!" they exclaimed, lifting the stack up for the man to see. The man, hearing this, couldn't help the small quirk of his mouth at the sound of the nickname the boss highly frowned upon.

"He should be right inside Little Tempest," he replied, gesturing to the office

"Thank you, Dazzy!" they called, making their way inside of the office and skipping to the brooding man inside,

"Hi, Cruncle!"

"Don't call me that," he responded promptly, lifting his gaze slightly to glare at the small child. He rolled his eyes as they just threw him a grin, allowing their fruit to activate and lifting themselves off the floor as they placed the paper on his desk.

“Why not!”

“Because I said so,” he deadpanned, pulling out one of his cigars and placing it in his mouth

“Puff,” he added after he had ignited the cigar

“I‘m not a puff!!” They protested

“My winds are way stronger than a little puff; I’m a hurricane! I bet they can blow your… your… your stupid sand away!”

“I can find much worse if you keep calling me that name.”

“Fine!”

“Glad we could come to an understanding.”

“Did you need something else?” they snapped, examining the different objects on display, from the highly valuable to the questioningly macabre.

“I don’t, but he does,” he mused, putting his full attention on the child as he willed his sands to blast full force into the doorway, effectively blocking it.

At the action, Dokucha flinched, looking around in alarm, spotting the one person they were hoping to avoid as Mihawk leisurely walked from who knows where and closer to the floating child.

“D-Dad!” They greeted with forced enthusiasm.

“You have been avoiding me.” He stated, not one, to beat around the bush

“I don’t know what you mean,” they laughed off, backing away slightly, getting closer and closer to the blocked-off door, their only hope of escape.

“Is that so? If memory serves correctly, you missed your usual sword lessons yesterday, not to mention that you always have collected daily tasks from me.”

“Ahaha! Well, I was just feeling a tad tired, and I figured I would bond some more with Crun—Uncle Crocodile!” They pushed out, ignoring the unamused look the man gave them.

“Is that so? Then I’m sure the target practice you were doing with the clown earlier occurred before your sudden fatigue.”

“Ah! I actually have to go do something for Uncle Crocodile-

“No, you don’t,” Crocodile cut in

“So I have to go,” they rambled, turning around and easily making their body whisp like enough so they could easily slip by the barrier of sand and make a getaway.

The two men stood there for a few minutes until the swordsman let out a sigh, turning to the devil-fruit user. He knew that their child had many abilities granted by their devil fruit, including the usual logia transformation. However, even this form would not allow them to simply go by a fellow devil-fruit user, especially when the latter was skilled enough to have been named a warlord.

“Is there a particular reason why you allowed them to leave?”

“I do find your struggles quite entertaining; who would have thought, the mighty Hawkeye bested by a six-year-old?” Crocodile chuckled, watching as Mihawk turned away, annoyed, and simply walked away.

“That was close,” Dokucha muttered, attempting to catch their breath, looking around where they ended up, and recognizing the tent to be that of the clown.

“Oh, it’s you windwhelp,” Buggy huffed

“Uncle Buggy-Sensei!” they cheered. Despite their father’s obvious disdain for the man, Dokucha had grown quite attached to the eccentric emperor.

“Hah?! What do you mean, sensei!” He exclaimed, confused, his body coming apart in shock. As much as he played it off, much like his ‘coworkers’, he had grown a soft spot for the child, especially when said child was smart enough to understand his circumstances.

“Well, you’re teaching me how to aim better, right?

“I ‘m no-you know what it doesn’t matter!” he screamed, taking hold of the child and taking off, ignoring their attempts to escape.

“Don’t bother; the outside of the gloves have seastone in them,” Buggy explained as he noticed Dokucha attempting to enter their logia form.

“W-where are we going?” They grumbled, giving up and going dead-weight; if they were getting kidnapped, they would make it as annoying as they could, especially if their suspicions were true.

“Don’t be a brat,” he yelped as he adjusted his grip to manage the slumping child better.

“You’re going back to Hawkeye.”

“But you don’t like Dad Buggy-sensei, so why? " they whined, dread filling them the closer they grew to the main tent.

“'Cause we made a deal,” he admitted.

He was shocked when the former warlord had approached him with an odd order: retrieve Dokucha. He had wildly protested at first (that got him a beating), but eventually the man had offered a deal; find the child and he would give him an IOU, able to be used to get out of one of his usual beatings or to acquire a favor from the man. Buggy would have had to be a fool to say no to such a deal; all he had to do was get a child. He liked the child, and if the circumstances were better, he would have given mercy, but right now, he was basically a prisoner to the two men, and he needed all the leverage he could get.

“I don’t like you anymore, Uncle Buggy,” they said sadly, coming to terms with their situation.

“Yeah, yeah, join the club,” Buggy sighed as he pushed them into the small makeshift office Mihawk currently resided in.

“Well?” Mihawk prompted, raising a brow at the unusually quiet kid as they kneeled next to him, hands in their lap and eyes glued down. It had been a few minutes since the clown had left, but Dokucha was still refusing to address the issue, choosing to remain silent instead.

“Do you believe I will grow infuriated at your news?” He questioned, letting a slight hum at the stiff nod they gave.

“Did you skip your chores?” He questioned, amused.

“I-I don’t want to be a swordsman,” they finally confessed

“That’s it?” He replied without missing a beat, almost letting out a chuckle at the gaping reaction he received

“W-wh- I thought you wanted me to be a swordsman!” They yelled shellshocked

“I could not care less about that,” he mused

“But every morning you begin by giving me sword lessons!”

“That you requested”

“No, I didn’t!”

“You did. Three years ago, you woke up and demanded I give you daily sword lessons,” he reminded them

“Are you serious?!” They boomed standing up on the sofa, throwing themselves on his lap, and facing him face to face, ignoring the rare and amused smile on the swordsman.

“Are you for real, Dad?!”

“I do believe that's what I said, yes.”

“So, you don’t care if I ‘m not a swordsman?”

“I do not. I would prefer if you grew a battle skill, but if you are against it, I will not force you to,” he confirmed

“I do! I want to use a bow!” They confessed a hopeful glint in their eye at the sudden turn of events.

“Very well, I believe we have a woodworker on the island, we can acquire a bow for you to practice.”

“Thank you, Dad!” They gushed, wrapping their arms around his neck and squeezing tightly

“I would have liked for you to have told me before I had to make a deal with the clown.”

“It’s okay! Buggy-Sensei deserves a break!” She cheered

“What did you call him?”

I was gonna start the baby asl piece today since i am so exited about it but I am tired and I want to give it the effort it deserves

Taglist:

@Imaginarydreams

@amethystviolin

@h0n3y-l3m0n05

@hannahbarberra162

@epochal-oracle

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magicalqueennightmare · 2 days ago

Text

Got You- Pt 3/3

John Walker x Reader (nicknamed Talon with black canary style powers)

When a mission goes sideways and you get hurt you and John both admit how you feel

Mention of violence, getting stabbed, surgery

You were sitting on the counter in the kitchen next to Yelena. Bob was making pancakes, Bucky and John were down in the gym and you weren’t sure where the other two residents of the watchtower currently were. No one knew what happened between you and John yet. You were hesitant to act any differently in front of the team. Mainly because you really didn’t want to push a title on whatever was between the two of you.

You were falling in love with him. You knew it, no matter how much you tried to deny it, tried to tell yourself not. Every time he would crawl into your bed, wrapping himself around you or every time he would pull you into his bed, wanting you as close as possible. You knew that man had taken your heart. The thing was, he’d gone from Olivia who was his high school sweetheart, the mother of his child and the only serious relationship he’d ever had to this.

How could you ask him to be in love with you? What if you told him and this whole thing was a transitional relationship to him? You were a friend, someone who saw past his mistakes and misdoings. You were easy to access due to living together and even if you broke whatever this was off you would still have to be civil because of the rest of the team.

You sighed a little bit louder than you meant, causing Yelena and Bob to share a look before Bob bumped your leg “Blueberries or chocolate chips?” you smiled “Um whichever you wanna tackle” he nodded “I’m on it” he turned back to the pan as Yelena pushed a mug of coffee into your hands “You’re being quiet” you shrugged “Little tired I guess, also am I the only one waiting for Valentina to pop around the corner? We haven’t had a mission in almost two weeks. That woman is like the plague in designer clothes”

“Bite your tongue!” Yelena laughed. You shrugged “Sorry!” and Bob shook his head “Leave her alone Yelena. She’s going a little stir crazy. She’s used to being out” you winked at him “Thank you!”

Bob moved your pancakes onto a plate and held them out. The moment the plate got into your hand your phone buzzed with a text from Bucky. “Meeting in ten” Yelena looked up from her phone, glaring at you. You slid off the counter, grabbing the syrup and your coffee “Sorry?”

John was already sitting in the debrief room with Bucky and Alexei when you, Ava and Yelena walked in. “Nice of you all to join us” Bucky teased and you glared at him “Easy Barnes” you took the seat between John and Bucky.

John cut his eyes at you with a small smile. You smiled then turned your eyes to Bucky “So, what’s the mission?” “Clear an old facility. No big deal” Bucky replied which in turn caused everyone to audibly groan “That’s like a nurse or a firefighter saying it’s a quiet night! Curse of death Bucky!” you scolded and John laughed “It’ll be ok Talon”

You turned to look at him “Says you. You overwork your muscles, you’re sore. I overwork my scream, I pass out” “And I’ll catch you” he replied with no hesitation. Your eyes widened slightly and he realized he’d said that in front of the entire team.

Yelena chuckled low and Bucky cleared his throat “Anyways. Let’s gear up, I’ll go over basics in the air”

John’s eyes tracked your figure as the two of you cleared hall after hall of your assigned part of the facility. So far you’d found some old research of where they’d been trying to replicate the serum. You’d of course "accidentally" destroyed the equipment with the research on it. Valentina nor the government needed to get their hands on the formula to make more super soldiers. John and Bucky both agreed on that.

The way you handled yourself, the need to protect you despite knowing you could take care of yourself. He was so damn in love with you and it was so damn confusing trying to face it. How was he supposed to tell you that? You were the one that wanted it to be slow, that wanted to keep it behind closed doors. Now here he was head over heels, thinking about a future with you front and center. Christ have mercy.

_______________________

You could feel John’s eyes. He’d been watching you like he was afraid you would disappear. Was he kicking his own ass for that comment he made during the debrief that really didn’t sound like a friend talking to a friend? Was he hoping you didn’t read too deep into it?

You shook your head, getting your attention on the task at hand. You’d already destroyed all the equipment you’d found with serum research on it. No one needed that. You looked over at John and his eyes met yours just as a panel in the wall clicked open and guards streamed into the hall. “Fuck” you muttered. You and him were effectively surrounded with at least a four to one ratio and you couldn’t use your scream or risk hurting him.

“Looks like we’re having fun after all” you scoffed, pulling a gun in your right hand and a knife in your left. You nodded to the nearest guard “Come on then, let’s do it”

______________________

The hallway was a whirlwind of motion. John was trying to fight and keep an eye on you. More guards streamed into the small space, both of you had already hit your coms for back up. He was separated from you by half a dozen men. He slammed his shield into one’s neck, shooting another and was almost to you when his world stopped. You were fighting two men, holding your own and winning when a third clicked out of a wall panel. “TALON” he screamed but his voice was lost to the sounds of fighting.

He could see the flash of pain through your face as the knife found its mark in your side.

______________________

Yelena and Ava ran to back up you and John. When they got to the northeast corner of the building they both froze. It was a bloodbath. Bodies of guards strewn everywhere, John was on his knees next to your still frame. “Hold on baby, just hold on”

They both rushed over and saw that somehow a knife had made its way through your suit. John was holding pressure but from the looks of it you were still losing blood fairly fast. “We need evac NOW” Yelena called over the com. “I couldn’t get to her” John muttered as Ava dug her first aid kit out, slipping her hands under his to pack gauze into your wound. You screamed out in pain and that seemed to break John out of the shock he was in.

“Ava!” he scolded and she glared at him “If she’s in pain, she’s alive!” Ava tightly wrapped your side and nodded to him “Pick her up. She needs you now” he nodded, scooping you up into his arms, you whimpered in pain as your body curled into itself “It’s ok baby, I got you” he whispered and saw you had tears working out of your eyes. “Fucking hurts” you whispered, trying to keep your eyes open. He nodded “I know baby. You just gotta stay awake. Ok?”

You nodded weakly “Stay awake. Talk to me?” he saw Yelena and Ava eye the gauze that was soaking through even as they ran. “Um.. Olivia wants to give me visitation” your head rolled over onto his chest and for one terrifying moment he worried you passed out or worse until your voice hit his ears, small and broken but there “Really? You get to see him?”

He nodded, swallowing back tears “Yeah baby” by then they were to the jet and Bucky was reaching for your body to help Yelena and Ava try to triage your injuries while the team back at the watch tower got the med bay prepped. He laid you down on the stretcher, kneeling next to it so he wasn’t in their way. Your head turned to the side so you could see him. You looked so damn weak and a thin sheen of sweat covered your face.

He cut his eyes up at Bucky. “It hit her spleen, she’s bleeding bad” you winced under Bucky’s hands and it took everything in John to not scream at Bucky that he was hurting you. “I’m ok” you assured everyone, hand reaching out for John’s. “I’m ok” you whispered, eyes fluttering. They were trying and failing to get the bleeding to stop. Every blink of your eyes was getting slower. “Talon, open your eyes” Bucky ordered and you forced your eyes open to say “Don’t boss me around”

“Whatever works” Bucky told you, metal hand wrapping around your side over the gauze, using the strength in it as an attempt to keep enough pressure. Your head lulled slightly, a small whine leaving you “I’m tired” “Do not close your eyes!” John urged and your head turned towards him “I love you. Just in case” he froze, eyes wide. You loved him? “No just in case. You’re gonna be fine” he whispered and more tears slid down your face “It’s ok that you don’t” you whispered and your eyes fluttered shut as Ava cursed “Her pulse is dropping. We need a med team. NOW”

John held onto your hand, “Wake up baby, please. I do, I love you. Just wake up” you didn’t move, didn’t shift. Even as Bucky started CPR.

John was sitting just outside the surgery wing. He hadn’t bothered with a chair. He was sitting on the floor, staring at his hands that were still stained with your blood. He heard boots before Yelena slid down the wall to sit next to him. “So that’s why she’s been quiet”

He cut his eyes at her “Huh?” she sniffled and he could tell she’d been crying and was trying to distract herself from the fact that she could lose you too. “We’ve been together since right after Paris” he replied and she nodded “I’m not surprised. You always look at her like you’re seeing her for the first time. She looks at you like she’s safe”

He laughed humorlessly, swallowing hard “Safe? Like I kept her today?” “Safe like she doesn’t have to hide any part of herself” she whispered and he leaned his head back “I let yet another person down Belova and if something happens to her…”

“It won’t!” she bit at him and he nodded, knowing she wasn’t even angry at him. She was scared. “I do love her. I’m in love with her. I was just so afraid of hurting her and she wanted to keep it out of public. I understood if she was ashamed of me”

The next moment shocked him more than just about anything. Yelena leaned her head over on his shoulder “Talon understands forgiveness more than any of us. She understands doing things you wish you could change. She doesn’t judge for mistakes” he nodded, “She deserves more than me” Yelena laughed “She does, but she loves you” the two of them sat in silence after that, just waiting for news. Eventually Bob, Bucky, Ava and Alexei joined them.

___________________

After what felt like hours the head surgeon walked out. “We had to remove her spleen. She lost a lot of blood but she’s going to make a full recovery” John hit his knees then and there. He didn’t give a damn who was watching. “Can we see her?” Bucky asked and the surgeon looked around “One of you. She needs rest. She’s here in the tower so you can see her more in the morning”

Bucky looked at him “Get up and go” he nodded, scrambling up to follow the surgeon down the hall.

You felt like your head had gotten stuffed inside of a giant cotton ball or that you were being shoved underwater repeatedly… or both. “Fuck” you groaned when the overhead lights blinded you when you finally managed to open your eyes. “I’ve got you” an achingly familiar voice crooned before the lights dimmed.

You worked your eyes open again and John was next to the bed, still in his suit. All the memories of what happened hit you at once. You told him you loved him. “Hey” you managed and he smiled “Hey. You scared us” “I scared me” you laughed.

He reached for your hand “Can we talk?” you shook your head “If it’s a let me down easy, please don’t” his face fell, “Sweetheart, no” you raised your eyes to his and god those baby blues “What then John?” you whispered and he smiled softly “I was just going to tell you that I love you too”

“You do?” you asked, a little dumbfounded and he nodded “I do” “What about not going public?” you asked and he laughed “That was you darlin. We could’ve gone public the next morning and I would’ve been happy” you groaned, holding your side “What happened to me after all? What’s the verdict?”

He grimaced “They had to remove your spleen. You’ll be out of missions for a couple weeks and Yelena is overseeing everyone’s suits getting redone” you nodded slowly “Last thing I remember is you taking out a hall full of guards to get to me” he shrugged one shoulder “They needed more men if they wanted to keep me from you”

You held out a hand and he let you pull him to you. “So, you gonna play nurse?” you teased and he laughed “Gladly honey. I’ll even get the outfit for ya if you’re a good girl” you felt your face warm “You’re an asshole” he grinned “But I’m your asshole”

“That you are. I love you” you told him and he grinned “I love you too” before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

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