#I have known him for less then 24 hours!! why am I so attached?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aerodaltonimperial · 1 year ago

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bestie prompt: One bestie plays matchmaker for the other bestie, gritting their teeth the entire time. (I'd love to see this from either perspective, but go with whatever clicks for you first!)

((((and I am so sorry for all the feelings today i didn't mean to break us pls forgive me ))))

(SO FIRST OF ALL she did mean to break us SECOND OF ALL I was trying to find the family feud episode on youtube and youtube instead asked me if I wanted to watch Hook first saving Jack in December and SO I WATCHED IT and then I was crying like what the fuck I miss them so much ESSENTIALLY I HAVE BEEN ATTACKED TONIGHT so here is some bestie fic because i am too emotionally attached at this point to be pried loose)

Jack doesn't really get it at first. One minute, he was getting his ass kicked by Moriarty and Big Bill, and the next, Hook has shoved his hand out in front of Jack's face for a handshake. Jack doesn't know what it means. Jack doesn't know why Hook is here, when Hook is...never anywhere, really. But he takes Hook's hand, because that's just what you do when someone saves you from broken bones and severe internal bruising.

He doesn't get it when Hook shows up at his hotel room door a few hours later, either; he's holding a bucket of ice in one hand, still got that perpetual scowl on his face. Jack's already been checked by medical, already iced the worst of things. But this is the second gesture Hook has made in less than 24 hours, and Jack was raised to be polite.

"Do you want to come in and watch a movie?" he asks, and honestly, he doesn't know if it's an offer that won't be immediately laughed down the hallway.

Hook's expression goes softer. One corner of his mouth quirks up. He nods, and Jack lets him in.

Hook doesn't even end up using the ice. They let it melt until the wooden desk it's sitting on is wet with all the condensation while they sit up against the headboard and watch the second Die Hard.

Towards the end, Hook pulls his phone out, opens up his contact list, and creates a new one. It's labeled simply Jack. Then he holds the phone out sideways, waiting.

Jack takes it and types his number in. Finally, he gets it. Hook is absolutely, painfully, desperately in need of a friend.

And you know what? Jack feels the same god damn way.

He hands the phone back. Smiles. "See you next week?"

Hook smiles back.

The Firm targets them together now. They throw Jack in a dumpster just to piss Hook off. Hook digs Jack out with his face wrinkled in disgust, and Jack wants to punch Stokely right in his fat mouth. But Hook came after him. That's more than Jack would have believed two weeks ago.

Jack peels something sticky and nauseating off his arm, and shakes his head. "How do you feel about the old, original Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movies?"

Hook looks confused, but he answers, "Favorably."

"Alright." Jack nods. "They're On Demand in the hotel streaming system. I'm gonna go back and take a really hot shower, and then what do you think about marathoning them with pizza?"

Hook smiles. "Cool."

They actually don't make it through them all—they actually both fall asleep halfway through Secret of the Ooze, heads tilted back at uncomfortable angles against the pillows. Jack wakes up when the credits start to roll unsure of what year he's in. When he looks over at Hook, the man is...vulnerable. Curled back against the headboard with his mouth slightly open.

Jack turns the TV off, and then the lights. He shifts his pillow down into a normal position and waits. It takes about ten minutes for Hook to do the same, but he doesn't leave. They sleep like the dead until Jack's phone alarm blares bright and early the next morning.

Turns out, they're a really good tag team. It's easy to fight with Hook, probably just because Jack feels so comfortable around him. Hook has slipped into his life with a strange familiarity that should be weird and somehow isn't, like Jack has known him forever, the sort of old friend that's always got his back.

They make their way through whatever the hotels have available on the Smart TVs in their rooms, and night by night, movie by movie, Hook opens up. Starts talking more. Instead of single syllables, Jack gets sentences of things he notices in the filming. How the angles were shot. The bits that they get wrong about various things: athletic training, New York City, photography.

When they aren't in the same place, they text. And most nights they are, they end up sleeping in the same bed, just because it's easier than returning back. Jack takes to packing an extra toothbrush every time, for Hook to use. It's not romantic, this thing between them; he thinks it probably could be, if they were in different places, different head spaces, but it doesn't really matter. Jack's not lonely anymore.

It's been quite a while since he could say that.

He starts figuring out Hook's little tells, all the signs that he's had a rough day. Jack's good enough at it to be able to always have the right sort of movie queued up. Hook is mercurial like that: he bottles everything up, and Jack thinks what he ends up seeing is all the implosions when it fails to be enough, the tendrils of emotional turmoil Hook tries so hard to swallow down. On the hard days, Hook will end up curled up against Jack's side as they sit on the bed, and Jack will loop his arm around Hook's shoulders. They don't talk about it, but Hook will smash his face into Jack's collarbone and exhale so deep his whole body shudders with the force.

They don't talk about it, until one day, abruptly, they do.

"I really miss him," Hook whispers, as the clock ticks over to 2 AM and they're laying side by side in the too-starched sheets of the king sized bed.

Jack freezes for a second, only because he's afraid he'll say the wrong thing and scare Hook into clamming up all over again. "Miss who?"

"Danhausen."

"Oh," Jack says, tone light: still a whisper. It feels safer. "Have you said that to him?"

"He doesn't talk to me anymore," Hook replies.

"Maybe he's just waiting for you to reach out first."

"Or," Hook mumbles, bitter and thin, "he's happier without me. With them. And he doesn't care anymore."

Jack winces in the darkness of the room. "I don't think that's true. You guys were...really close."

There's a long stretch of nothing, but Jack knows Hook hasn't fallen asleep. Finally, Hook sucks in a ragged-sounding breath. "Jack."

"Yeah?"

"I think I was in love with him."

"Yeah," Jack agrees, because that's probably correct. They lay in quiet for a very long time, though Hook's breathing never evens out, so Jack knows he isn't asleep. Eventually, Jack rolls over. Presses his hands against Hook's shoulder—light enough to be a suggestion he can ignore if he wants.

Hook, it seems, doesn't want to. He rolls to the same side and lets Jack curve behind him. Jack loops his arm over Hook's waist. And then he settles in, his cheek against Hook's shoulder blade, and waits while Hook shakes, shakes, shakes against the mattress.

A week later, he's on a website full of black and red. Bright colors, weird graphics. He clicks around, trying to figure out what would work. His phone dings with a text from Hook. It's completely unrelated, superbly casual; a reply to Jack's earlier message complaining about gas prices in California.

Jack stares at it, and thinks You're my best friend. I'm going to fix this for you.

It takes another few weeks for the dates to line up, but Jack finds himself in Wisconsin at a convention. He's got his hair thrown back under a cap so he won't be recognized, but ends up taking it off at the back door so the volunteer will let him in. She even gives him one of those staff lanyards.

It doesn't take him long to find the person he's looking for. Danhausen appears very surprised when Jack grabs his elbow and hauls him over to the wall. "What are—"

"I need to talk to you," Jack says. "What did he do?"

Danhausen blinks. "What?"

"What did he do that was so bad? What was it?"

"You...you're talking about Hook," Danhausen says, slowly. He's got the face paint on, so his tongue looks very pink when it darts out to wet his lip.

"Of course I'm talking about Hook. Why are you still mad at him?"

Danhausen frowns. "Danhausen doesn't know what you're talking about. Hook is the one who is mad at Danhausen."

"What..." Jack stares at him, boggled. "He's miserable. What are you talking about? He thinks you hate him."

"Hook told Danhausen that he didn't need him."

That one takes awhile for Jack to place. He searches back in his memories; that was a weird time. He wasn't in the best place, mentally. But he's pretty sure he remembers that interview. "He...no. He was only talking about that match."

"He..." Danhausen's expression has twisted. His eyes dart to the side. "But Danhausen thought Hook was pushing him away."

"Dude," Jack says. "He wasn't. It was just about that one thing. And you just disappeared afterwards."

From Danhausen's expression, Jack has just handed him very new information. And then Jack laughs, because he can't help it; it sucks, of course it sucks, and Hook's been in this twisted agony circle for months, but of all things? This?

"Are you telling me," he starts, "that this entire thing was a misunderstanding?" He waits, watching; Danhausen looks upset. "Do you miss him, too?"

When Danhausen nods, Jack gives him an awkward pat on the shoulder. "Right, so. I'm being very serious right now. You need to call him. Like, immediately. Because he really, really misses you."

"And Hook is not angry at Danhausen? He might be, when Danhausen calls. It's been a very long time, and...well."

"I can confidently tell you that he will not be mad at you," Jack tells him. "Call him. Please."

He turns to leave, but Danhausen's voice stops him. "Danhausen misjudged Ju—Jack."

Jack stops, swivels back. Danhausen's hands are clasped in front of him, fingers tangled. He's managing a lopsided black smile. "Sorry for that. But Danhausen will find a way to thank you."

"Just call him," Jack says. "That's all I need."

Danhausen has his phone out, tapping something, when Jack glances back near the exit. It looks more like a chat thread than a phone call, but he's pretty sure he won't have to wait long.

He's right: Hook texts him that night.

You went to find him? In Wisconsin? You flew to Wisconsin?

Jack grimaces, replies: Don't be mad. I'm sorry I did it behind your back. Did he call?

Yeah, comes the reply. And then, You know I'm gonna fucking love you forever for this, right?

Jack smiles at his phone. Sap.

Seriously, though, Hook's message says. Thank you.

I'm glad I could help.

#tag so you don't lose this shit #IT'S MISSING MY BESTIES HOUR UP IN THIS HOOOOUUUUSSSEEEEEE #i will never let go of them #when i die put them on my tombstone

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myrulia · 4 years ago

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An Oiran's Sacrifice - Kokushibou x Oiran!Reader

CHAPTER 2

Oiran

Oiran (花魁) was a specific category of high ranking courtesan in Japanese history. Divided into a number of ranks within this category, oiran were considered – both in social terms and in the entertainment they provided – to be above common prostitutes, known as yūjo (遊女, lit. 'woman of pleasure')

Warning: Prostitution, strong language, gore (slightly)

Word count: 4037

Previous chapter ☆ Next chapter

`` Silence, Douma, `` was all the male had said before sheathing his sword once more into his saya. Kokushibou was not particularly pleased with being assigned with Douma to scout the village for a human that had crossed Lord Kibutsuji the wrong way. In fact the only way Kokushibou can really tolerate the Upper Moon Two is by showing his distaste towards him. Being the number one Upper Moon meant he had lots of responsibilities to carry, along with pleasing his Lord, yet those responsibilities felt merely meaningless the moment his 3 pairs of eyes landed on your human form.

Truth be told, Kokushibou cursed himself for letting the demon even see you in the first place. It was barely moon-rise when they arrived to locate the one they were after, and Douma being Douma was not giving the Upper Moon One an easy time with constantly asking questions relating to why he is usually the first Moon gone as soon as the moon is out. Of course, that wasn’t any of Douma’s business so Kokushibou ignored him per usual. `` Come On Kokushibou-dono!~ You always bully me one way or another and I will not stand it! ``

Before Kokushibou knew it, Douma had already left with his head in his hands. Letting out a soft sigh, the demon who was now alone watched as you finally went inside, seeing as how demons could harm you one way or another since you were previously sitting on the engawa that wrapped around the large minka. The 6 eyed demon watched your retreating form return inside the estate, so he could rest easy knowing you were somewhat safe, but that was not all that Kokushibou came for.

The demon then jumped from the branch he was hiding on, to a nearby roof in the span of a few seconds. Due to no living soul being out in the wake of the night knowing of the dangers, he could move about from rooftop to rooftop without drawing attention to himself. He traveled around the small village known as your home for quite some time, until he was on the roof of your very own minka. He disregarded the warm candle luminosity emitting from the small window, for that was what he had hoped. Kokushibou was no stranger to humans, he was once one himself. He understands the different emotions one goes through, or the sacrifices that must be made in order to live another day.

Jumping from the top of the roof down onto the dirt pathway in front of your door, he holds one hand on the tsuka of his katana, while the other pushes open your surprisingly unlocked door. He steps inside the empty room and looks around for the man he was searching for, yet Kokushibou did not expect for your foolish father to try and attack him.

With one swift movement, your father's wrist is grabbed by a calloused and strong hand. The man felt shivers emit from his spine and move throughout his entire body, fear striking his heart. `` Who are you..! `` Your father hollered out in utter dread for his life.

`` Who I am is not of importance, `` Kokushibou stated, shoving the man backwards which made your father land on his bottom, hitting the tatami mat painfully. Taking slow strides to his cowering form beneath him, the Upper Moon unsheathed his katana, pointing the end at your father's neck. `` You, have sinned time and time again, thinking it is to save you and your daughter, but in the end, you are just as selfish as those who have riches. You will listen to what I have to say and answer any question asked. ``

The man before him merely nodded, since there was not much he could do in the situation, a demon, one that looked terrifying, approached him. Kokushibou took note of how easy your father gave in, which satisfied him so now sitting down, the Upper Moon sheaths his sword, yet keeping a firm grip on the tsuka. `` Why do you steal, Fujisaki? ``

Swallowing hard, Astuhashi answers as best as he can without feeling the urge to wet his hakama. `` I steal so I can provide for my daughter. To make sure she has clothes on her back, a roof over her hea- ``

`` Are those the only reasons that come to your mind? `` Kokushibou inquired in his usual stoic tone. It made your father scoot back slightly to regain himself, as well as to not scream in fear. `` There is no ot-other reason, I simply wish for her to have a better life than I did. ``

`` If you want that so desperately, then why do you get caught so frequently? By doing so, you put the two of you at risk of being beheaded publicly. One, because she is your offspring, and two, directly related to you. And if she somehow escapes being hanged beside you, she will live her life shamed by your neighbors. You have done nothing but dishonor your wife and daughter. ``

For once, Astuhashi had nothing to say. The demon who can easily kill and devour your father was indeed correct with his accusations. Kokushibou noted his silence and simply lowered his head, unsheathing his sword slowly. Your father heard the sound of a sharp blade brushing against the holder of the demon's katana and quickly began stammering for words. `` How can I continue to dishonor my wife if she has already passed on? M-My daughter knows very well that we will soon no longer have to live in such wa- ``

`` Your daughter will no longer have faith in you, `` Kokushibou growled out, his temper running short as the pitiful man before him was giving him no results of change, even after losing his daughter to a powerful man no less. `` You are just as pitiful as everyone makes you out to be. You are nothing but a selfish human who has no regard for how many times your daughter has humiliated herself just so you can live to see another day. Not once have you said thanks, instead you allow her to willingly give up her body for someone who sees her as a sex slave. ``

Just like before, Astuhashi had nothing else to say, but the bulging of his eyes once Kokushibou finally withdrew his sword completely, standing up from his sitting form and glaring down at your father who was cowering in fear at the thought of being killed. `` You do not deserve the amazing daughter you were blessed with. She works day in and day out for you, yet you continue to doom her future. ``

Kokushibou took slow strides towards the man beneath him, and all the while he moved closer, your father only pushed himself with his feet until his back hit the wall behind him. Now that Astuhashi had absolutely no where to run, the Upper Moon before him raised his sword, and in one swift swing, blood was splattered on the walls and tatami flooring. A shriek of pain rang through the ears of the demon who did so, yet he held no remorse, for it was his fate that was long overdue.

Stepping away slowly, Kokushibou finally sheaths his sword once more, all the while glaring down at the vision-less man before him. The smell of blood did indeed overflood his senses, but Kokushibou knew that taking his life would affect you deeply, and that is not what he wanted for you since you already gave up your body to be nothing more than a yūjo. It was irritating that you allow yourself to be so quick to give up everything, just so your bitch of a father could live. The demon knew all too well of the emotional attachment you have, since Astuhashi was indeed your father and the only family left alive that you knew of.

Backing up even more, Kokushibou was about to open the wooden door to your singular room minka, but on the other side commotion was heard, unfortunately trying to figure out where the scream of combined pain and agony originated from. It was only a matter of time until they located the cause, so in natural reaction, Kokushibou fled from the apparent backdoor of the small household, climbing up the one story building onto the rooftop, making sure he was not seen.

Doing what he did previously before the somewhat conversation he had with Astuhashi Fujisaki, the Upper Moon One jumped around in the wake of the night from roof to roof, until he found himself in the foliage of the forest next to the Suzuki estate where he and Douma were standing together just an hour ago. His original mission was to eliminate a certain someone that Lord Kibutsuji was not pleased about, but that could wait. Kokushibou found a mission more seemingly important than that for it can be done later.

Now going back to his original stance on the branch that he had an annoying small talk with Douma, he watches a few other oirans walk along the hallways of the large minka that he had his eyes on for once reason and once reason only.

You.

But, Kokushibou could not stay for long. The sun is a natural enemy to demons and even thought it is hardly an hour and a half past sundown, he still is loyal to Lord Kibutsuji and does not want to suffer torture from the latter. `` You are quite the distraction.. `` the male said to no breathing soul in particular.

Sighing out rather dramatically, he rubs his temples in deep concentration. On one part, he so dearly wishes to make sure you are safe and sound, and not doing anything you do not wish, but on the other, he has duties to fulfill as the Upper Moon One and not disappoint the demon lord who he owes his demon life to. Standing there, not knowing what to do, he mentally cursed himself for his next choice of actions, because he simply jumps atop of the Suzuki estate, the one he was sent to kill being inside.

Kokushibou knew that you were inside as well, which is why he dreaded the thought of you hearing the scream of bloody murder coming from a room not to far from the one you were most likely assigned. He knew just how much you have gone through in the span of 24 hours and adding on to that made the demon feel a sense of guilt. Something he has not felt in centuries.

Jumping down from the rooftop and onto a generally flat area, he steps onto the wrap around engawa and slowly pushes open a sliding door that revealed a sleeping man who he was after the entire time. Unsheathing his sword for what seemed like the millionth time that night, Kokushibou lifts his arm with the blade in hand, and as he does so, Kenta finally wakes up to his change of surroundings in utter shock. `` Who the hell are you and why are you in my house?! ``

The demon's eyes seemed to widen slightly. He did not expect such a casualty to present itself to him, but the Upper Moon simply shrugged. `` Ah, you are awake. I guess your scream will alert the others of your "unfortunate" death. ``

Kenta looked as if he was about to defy his upcoming death, but nothing could stop the strong arm that brought down an even stronger blade with it, beheading Kenta in the process. Another loud shriek rang through the ears of both Kokushibou, and anyone else nearby that was awake or not. Blood was splattered on the wall behind the lifeless body that dropped on the bloodied sheets that most likely had so many different unfortunate women in them. There was another tinge of pain in Kokushibou's undead heart as his mind wandered to your naked body sleeping with someone you did not want to. A sex hungry man no less.

That small pain lingering in his head would not go away as his mind drifted to you being forced to sleep with nothing but a boy who can not keep his dick in his hakama. It was infuriating to know that you had a high probability of already having sex with someone you did not wish to do so with. His face only scrunched up even more in disgust at the entire family and their way of living, his teeth gritting at how this was considered a "normal" life for them. Swinging his katana again, and again, and again, the demon only creates more of a bloody mess in the bedroom he already ruined by decapitation in the first place.

By the end of it, there was nothing left but ruined silk sheets, soaked in red blood which came from the now mutilated and cut-to-pieces man in front of him. There was nothing left that looked remotely human, just brutally severed limbs and a head that rolled onto the tatami mat flooring beside the bed. Huffing out, Kokushibou takes a step back to get a clear view at what he had done, with little to no regret. His resentment towards the entire way the household runs was made apparent in the bloodied mess of a bedroom. Although, the male could not stay for long, for commotion was heard from a few rooms down from the one he was standing in. He simply assumed that the scream of death was heard, therefore he swiftly exited from the door he entered in, closing the wooden paneled door behind him and swiftly dashing away from the minka that he mercilessly killed in.

Now that the Upper Moon's mission was fully complete in the village, he had absolutely no reason to ever return unless it was specifically assigned to him.

Then why did he want to desire so badly?

It was as if something was beckoning out to him, calling him back to the distraught village, but, Kokushibou had a strong will, and he did not want to lose his life to the sun. So, without falter, the demon continues to sprint away from the mountain-side village, his mind set on getting as far away as possible so that he can clear his mind of the small voice in the back of his head that keeps telling him to return.

Just as the undead being was about to let out his anger through violently swinging his katana at the trees around him, he is suddenly transported back to the only place that really seemed recognizable. The Infinity Fortress.

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Your peaceful slumber was suddenly disturbed when a masculine shout echoed throughout the entire minka. Your body jolted from the futon given to you, your head trying to adjust to your dark surroundings until a warm luminescent light was seen from the door crack that led to the hallway. Hurriedly, you got out from the futon and slid on the house slippers provided by the tayū and immediately pushed open the door, only to see multiple other bodies rush to the other side of the estate. `` What is the matter? `` You asked to a fellow oiran who stopped upon seeing your confused and still drowsy state.

`` The headmaster was mutilated, that is all that has been told, `` she replied rather gently in the hopes of calming your nerves, but you felt like your heart plummeted upon hearing the terrible news. Of course you knew Kenta was the cause of you becoming a yūjo, but the fact that he was killed in such a brutal way really hurt in a sense. Following behind the small crowd of people who wanted to truly see what was happening, you only became more curious as to what was happening. Although you did not know you were going to regret such things.

Pushing past a few people who were frozen in shock, you manage to make your way to the front of the crowd, part of it standing inside the private sleeping quarters of the former owner of the Suzuki estate. You looked around at the walls that had blood splattered all over them, the horrible sight looking even more worse than what you perceived, but nothing could have truly shocked you than the sight before you that caused a hand to practically fly towards your mouth.

Disembodied limbs.

Limbs that belonged to brutally murdered Kenta Suzuki. Your eyes wandered to one arm split in half on the bed, to the other that was not cut in half but instead handing off the bed. His legs were still somehow on the bed as well, yet still separated from each other and bare, covered in blood along with every other body part you spotted. Yet, the most gut wrenching sight before you presented itself on the floor, being Kenta's decapitated head. His eyes were left wide open from the pure shock of the event that happened. His mouth set agape with blood still dripping out which stained the floor.

`` Oh my God… `` you uttered out in pure shock of the mess before you. It was sickening to see just how much one's hatred can turn into a blood bath. Before you could get another good look at the entire scene you backed away quickly and darted out past the crowd who could not pull their own eyes away. Your chest never faltered from rising and falling at its rapid rate, trying to process what happened in so little time. Just a few minutes ago you were sleeping somewhat peacefully, but now you felt as though you could not even close your eyes without your mind wandering to the unfortunate death of Kenta.

`` Okay everyone, we will try to figure everything out in the morning, but for now, please try to get your rest. I understand that might not be possible since the murder of my father was indeed shocking. Please, try to sleep, `` spoke the son who you still resented, Hiroto Suzuki. It was surprising how he took some charge of the situation when he was most likely in the middle of getting his dick wet. At least he tried, is what you thought to yourself once you finally made it back to your own small quarters of a bedroom.

Not even bothering to turn on the light, you kicked off your house slippers and practically flopped onto the futon, yawning in a desperate act to get some sleep, but you knew if you closed your eyes, you would only see a head on tatami mat flooring.

Even though you tried so desperately to fight the urge to sleep, you found yourself already drifting off back into your slumber whether you liked it or not. Your body craved rest, and so, you finally gave in.

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Just as quickly as you closed your eyes, you felt them opening once more to the warm lighting of the sunrise shining through the much bigger window in comparison to the one from your old living space. Sitting up slowly, you let out a dramatic yawn and stretched out your limbs, adjusting your vision to the sunlight shining through. Even though the sun was beaming, the events last night were dreadful as your mind flashed over the gore filled memory.

Shaking it off, you got up and opened your wardrobe that you could proudly say held your own clothes, pulling out the things required in order to fully dress yourself for what you perceived to be a long day. The process still was not engraved into your memory entirely, so you still struggled with getting the entire kimono set up in general, but got it done anyways. Moving onto your hair, you decorated your bun-styled hair with the multiple ornaments provided, making yourself look presentable.

The make-up though, you still struggled with profusely. It took a much longer process to hide your eyebags in view of the fact that they have been forming over the years that your father has committed acts of thievery during the night, and you having to stay up in order to make sure he returns alive.

Although, those were things of the past and no longer apart of your everyday life. You had to admit, being able to escape from such things felt like a heavy weight that was no longer on your back. You finally had breathing space despite being no more than a common prostitute, and even though that was your new reality, it made you feel pretty in a sense with how you were given such beautiful jewelry that was given for free.

`` Lotus, it is time for your first sleeping experience with Young Master Hiroto! ``

And just like that, your peace was ruined.

Your first time having sex with someone you never would have imagined you would do it with. You originally thought you would lose your virginity to the man you love, a perfect husband in the hopes of even having a child with him. But that little childish fantasy of yours was about to be ruined the second you actually undress yourself before the eyes of Hiroto Suzuki.

Exiting your bedroom and closing the door gently, you follow Sakura who told you about your fate. She had a proud smile on her face as she began explaining the situation. `` Go in there and make me proud. I just know you will, after all, you have a beautiful body that was practically made for this. Therefore, enjoy yourself. Hiroto does have a rather enjoyable cock..~ ``

It seemed as though Sakura was trying to make you feel better with the playful tone she used, but telling by your tired and more serious face she could tell that you were obviously not too pleased about the whole thing, so she clears her throat and stops in front of large double doors. `` Well this is it, Goodluck and at least try to enjoy yourself. I know this is not what you imagined your first time would be like, but, this is how it must be. So please, try not to upset him. ``

You only nodded your head since you did not have much so say about your fate. It was saddening really to know that this is out of your control, but you chose this path yourself. Opening the double doors, you step inside to see a fully bare man laying on his futon who looked as if he was waiting on you. You perceived that to be true with the way he leaned back on his shoulders and looked you up and down without shame. `` Well hello Lotus. ``

`` Hello, `` was all you said. You did not have much to say to Hiroto, because deep down you were still upset and you being you, decided to make that apparent. `` Aww come on..~ Not excited to help me get rid of that memory from last night? My dear old dad dying? ``

`` If you are going to use that as an excuse to have sex with me and make me enjoy it, you are certainly wrong. `` Even though Hiroto could quickly have you killed. You still wanted a shred of your dignity left because you at least know your self worth. `` I am here for the sake of my father, and if I have to have sex with someone who only thinks of sex, then so be it. ``

Hiroto had nothing to say, and so since he did not, the male pulls you into his futon directly on top of his naked body. You could feel his shaft press against your stomach so you shuddered at the thought. Getting up slowly, you simply roll your eyes and begin to undress yourself until a pale hand came to grab your wrist. `` Let me undress you instead~ ``

And so, that is what you let him do. His hands did not know where to start until you guided him to the proper area where he could strip you with ease. In the middle of him beginning to untie the large bow on your lower abdomen, the wooden doors are pushed open abruptly.

`` Young Master Hiroto, I apologize for interrupting your private time with Lotus, but she is needed at the moment. Something terrible has happened. ``

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#kny kokushibou #kokushibou #kny kokushibou x reader #kny Kokushibou fanfic #kokushibo x reader #kokushibou smut #An Oiran's Sacrifice #demon slayer kokushibou #demon slayer fanfic

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carminite-wyrm · 3 years ago

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Running Onwards, To the Hope of a New Day (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

(Thank you to everyone who's been reading this fic of mine so far! I've really appreciated all your comments! Also, this will eventually be up on AO3, just not yet because I haven't been able to get an account just yet.)

In which Nyx tries his best, realises a few things, learns a new skill, and commits a minor case of arson.

All in all, Nyx was feeling pretty good about his chances, on his ninth run. He’d learnt from his eighth run that, no, setting the black-market dealer’s place on fire, stealing both the explosives and the phoenix down, and quietly dumping the explosives into one of the rivers that ran through Insomnia wasn’t enough to stop the rebels from bombing the signing ceremony. Considering there was more than one cell, he was sadly unsurprised by this. He’d also figured out that whatever was attracting the daemons was attached to the tracker in the hairpin in a way that he couldn’t just remove, which was a shame.

He learned that he needed to give Crowe a phone in some sort of blast-proof container or casing, because while he’d managed to give Crowe the means to contact him and Libertus sooner, the phone would be severely damaged without one. And, because the phone would be broken, Crowe wouldn’t be able to get in contact with them soon enough to stop Libertus from joining the rebels and giving them the vital information that they needed to launch their attack on the Citadel.

He had also found out that if he told King Regis about the traitorous Glaives he knew would survive the Princess’ extraction, that the King would be able to sever their connection to his magic before they encountered them on either the bridge or the overpass.

Unfortunately, its effectiveness was limited by the fact that there were still Glaives that he hadn’t known were traitors, and so they still had ended up rocketing off the overpass when another Glaive, who Nyx belated recognised as Isra Solis (and Crowe had cursed her out even more viciously than Nyx had, because Isra was as talented with frost magic as Crowe was with fire, and the two had been close, before everything went down).

At this point, Nyx was pretty sure that as soon as they got to that first attempt to escape the city, it was almost guaranteed that they’d be crashing the car sooner or later.

At the very least, Nyx thought to himself, as he finally found an old camera case which he hoped would be enough to hide the phone, this should help with stopping Libertus from leaving. Hopefully.

A day later, he awkwardly held the box of Crowe’s things, waiting for Drautos to move out of earshot. As Libertus raged at Crowe’s apparent death, Nyx took a deep breath, and quickly grabbed Libertus, warping them into one of the nearby alcoves (why there were so many alcoves by the morgue, Nyx had no idea, but he’d take it).

“Nyx, what the hell?!” Libertus gasped, nearly losing his balance at the sudden movement if not for Nyx’s steady grip on his arm.

“Lib…I don’t think Crowe is dead,” Nyx said, mustering the most serious voice he could, which was actually pretty serious considering how much potentially hinged on him getting Libertus to listen. “Look, you know how I gave her some of my curatives, right? Well, I also gave her a phoenix down and an extra phone.”

“…Why? What has that got to do with any of this?”

Nyx rummaged through the box in his hands, searching through for any of the items in question. Thankfully (for the point he was making, at any rate), he could not find any of the things that he had given Crowe.

“They said they recovered everything, right?”

Libertus nodded slowly.

“The phone isn’t here. Not even parts of it.”

Nyx was gratified to see the dawning realisation on Libertus’ face, and silently congratulated himself for finally convincing him of Crowe’s continued survival. And hopefully now, Libertus wouldn’t have too many reasons to leave, or at the very least, no reason to give information to that rebel cell.

“So, what you’re saying,” Libertus said, slowly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “Is that Crowe could still be alive.”

“Yes, exactly!” Nyx internally was jumping up and down with joy, this was exactly the reaction he wanted.

“We need to go find her.”

Wait, shit. Celebrated too early.

Nyx wasn’t even certain that Libertus would be able to find Crowe, if he went haring off now. And if he lost track of Libertus, then he wouldn’t to be able to assure himself of Libertus or Crowe’s safety. And if Libertus went running off, then that would alert the traitors that their plan hadn’t gone exactly to plan, and Nyx…couldn’t risk them changing the script that drastically.

“With what resources, Lib?” Nyx hissed, holding back Libertus with a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t even know where she is! She still has the phone, presumedly. We should wait for her call.”

“But what if she can’t call? What if she’s been captured by the Niffs, or- or.”

“…Give it a day, Lib. 24 hours, and if we don’t hear anything, we’ll go find her. But don’t you dare leave without me.” Nyx scowled, hoping that his mild concession wouldn’t be necessary. He didn’t exactly want to show off the fact that he knew the approximate area that Crowe would end up in, two days from this point, but 24 hours would give him time to come up with a reasonable excuse. He hoped, at any rate.

“Fine,” Libertus nodded. “24 hours’ll give us time to prepare, either way.”

“And don’t you dare try and resign, we’re going to need the King’s magic for this. Probably.”

“Alright, alright, hero.” Libertus shook his head, patting Nyx on the shoulder. “Worry about Crowe, not me.”

“I am not going to risk losing you as well, Lib.” Nyx scowled.

Libertus’ expression softened, then, and he drew Nyx into a hug.

“You won’t, Nyx.”

But I have. So many times, Nyx didn’t say, basking in the warmth of his best friend’s embrace. So many times, Libertus. I wish I could tell you.

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When Nyx’s phone rang early the next day, showing the contact for the phone that he had given Crowe, Nyx was unashamed to admit that he broke down sobbing. Frantically hitting the answer button, he listened to Crowe tell him that Luche had nearly killed her, that she’d been rescued in the nick of time by the combined efforts of the phoenix down and a pair of hunters, and that (this time), for some reason, she was actually all the way at Hammerhead.

Why she was all the way there, Nyx wasn’t quite certain, but Crowe had explained that the phone had actually been slightly damaged after the fight with Luche, but when Crowe had been trying to get it to actually make a call, one of the hunters had said that there was a mechanic over at Hammerhead, who could repair it.

Nyx wondered why Crowe hadn’t gone to the outpost last time, surely an outpost as well-established as Hammerhead would have been the ideal place to take an injured Glaive to contact her allies. Then he realised that in the last run, the phone had been completely toasted, and perhaps the hunters had not realised that Crowe was a member of the Kingsglaive, until they had spotted the Imperial dropships and Crowe had gone racing off after them.

Still, he did have some other questions to ask her.

“Wait, hold up, why couldn’t the hunters call us for you? Don’t they have phones of their own?”

“Batteries died.”

Are you fucking kidding me?! Nyx thought. What were the bloody chances of that happening?!

“What.” He said instead.

“Yeah, apparently they were going to head to one of the smaller, nearer outposts because there’s some spares there, but when I told them I needed to get in touch with a member of the Kingsglaive fast, I think they broke like four or five road rules to get me here as fast as they could.”

Nyx couldn’t help but laugh at the image, before slowly managing to calm himself down.

“Can you hold for a moment? I need to get Libertus here before he does something stupid and tries to rush after you.”

“Sure, Nyx. Get him in here, I bet the big guy’s worrying his ass off about me. I sure won’t be going anywhere, the hunters said it was risky enough bringing me all the way over here in the first place.”

Nyx sped down the hallway, and raced for the stairs, almost knocking Luche down the stairs (if only) in his haste to reach Libertus. He slammed open the door, having only wasted a few seconds fumbling with his own set of keys beforehand.

“LIB!” He yelled, as he shut the door behind him.

“What?!” Libertus yelled back, from inside the bathroom, where Nyx could hear the sounds of the shower running. “It better be important, I only just got the hot water running!”

Oh, whoops.

Three minutes later, Nyx was awkwardly sitting on Libertus’ couch whilst Libertus talked with Crowe, the other man significantly less irritated at Nyx’s interruption when Nyx had told him he had Crowe on the other end of his phone. He didn’t mention to Libertus later, when the man had finally re-entered the main area of his flat and put the phone on speaker, that he had definitely heard the sound of Libertus sobbing even with the continued sound of running water. Nyx was honestly just happy that Libertus was still here, still with him, and that Crowe was still alive.

“Shit, Nyx.” Libertus finally said, after Crowe had fully retold her story. “Luche’s a fucking traitor. We should…we should tell the Captain.”

Nyx froze, from where he was preparing to head off to be part of the Princess’ escort into Insomnia.

“I…I’m not sure we should.” Nyx admitted, trying not to make it apparent that he absolutely distrusted anything and everything Drautos said or did. “The details of Crowe’s mission should have been confidential, as soon as she left the city. But despite the precautions that were taken, Luche was still able to find her, and nearly kill her. If Luche’s a traitor, what’s to say there aren’t any other traitors in the Kingsglaive? What’s to say that the Captain’s office hasn’t already been compromised?”

“Shit, is there anywhere else we can take this?”

“What about the Crownsguard Marshal? The Crownsguard deal with internal affairs, right?” Crowe chipped in.

“We could…but I’m due in for Citadel duty in ten minutes, and we can’t afford any possible traitors knowing something’s up just yet.” Nyx scowled, frustrated at how things had lined up. “Lib, can you see if you can talk to the Marshal?”

“Nyx, you know how I feel about the Crownsguard,” Libertus shook his head. “With my luck, I’d end up just pissing them off, and that’s the opposite of getting them to listen. Chances are, I’m not even going to make it anywhere close to the Marshal’s office.”

“Damn it.” Nyx sighed. “I’ll see if I can find him, when it gets to my lunch break.”

“I’ll see if I can think of any way to get Crowe back here soon, I’m certain Crowe showing up alive will lend support to our whole ‘Luche is a filthy traitor’ argument.” Libertus nodded. “Best of luck, hero.”

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If one were to inquire as to why Nyx Ulric of the Kingsglaive was currently sitting with his head in his hands, barely an hour after his shift had ended, on the steps just outside the Kingsglaive barracks, he would tell them to politely ‘fuck off’.

It was, perhaps, not the most diplomatic of responses, but Nyx felt it easily summed up how he was presently feeling, after the utter shitshow that was his attempt to find the Marshal of the Crownsguard.

The actual searching and inquiry itself was quite fast. He’d only had to step into the Crownsguard building asking to see the Marshal, only to find out one little thing. One key thing he honestly wished he’d known far sooner, because it explained so many things.

The Marshal was not in the damn city.

Apparently, the man was off on some sort of confidential mission, due to return the bloody day before the signing ceremony for some Astrals-damned reason.

That was too late for any of Nyx’s current (and possibly future) plans.

And there was no way he, a single Kingsglaive, could even get the Marshal to return sooner, it simply wasn’t within the bounds of his current abilities.

So that avenue was closed to him, for the time being. Perhaps there were other people in the Marshal’s office he could approach, but Nyx simply did not know who would be a trustworthy, reliable person he could talk to in that branch of the military.

He briefly considered Fortis, before shaking his head. That man could be relied upon in a crisis, he had to admit, but…to most people, the only crisis happening at the moment was the political nightmare of the ceasefire. To most, it was a matter for diplomats and Kings, not foot soldiers and guardsmen.

Scowling off into the distance, he wondered whether it might have just been best to get Crowe back into the city, so that he could at least go to the King with direct evidence of Luche’s treachery. With any luck, Luche would have spilled everything, and then they could have killed Glauca when he inevitably fought back.

It seemed a bit late to try that this time around, though. Tomorrow, Insomnia would be invaded, after all.

Nyx sighed, before readying himself for his night shift guard duty, and the Princess’ inevitable kidnapping. Time to see if he could, at the very least, keep all his friends alive for longer this time around.

The next morning, he let himself back into Libertus’ room, to kick his plan of ‘Keep The King and My Friends Alive At Least’ into motion.

“Lib, I’m…I’m going to go talk to the King,” He said, and had a moment of amusement at Libertus nearly dropping his bowl of oatmeal in shock. “Crowe’s still at Hammerhead, yeah? Presumably heavily injured, but not injured enough to be unable to hold a call, right?”

“I would assume so,” Libertus nodded, after regaining his composure. “You sure you can get the King himself to listen? He’s a Lucian, and a noble to boot. You know how the combination of the two tend to treat folks like us.”

“…I think he’d listen. We have proof, now, and the next highest-ranked person isn’t even going to be here yet.”

“I still think we should tell the Captain-“

“No!”

Nyx winced as Libertus levelled a critical eye at him, the force of his disagreement clearly a bit…too much.

“Nyx.”

“Yes, Libertus?” Please don’t ask what I think you’re about to.

“Why are you so adamant about not telling the Captain?” Libertus put down his bowl, and crossed his arms, a pose familiar enough to Nyx that he knew Libertus wouldn’t take a vague answer. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I- I think the Captain is also a traitor.” There. He said it.

Nyx waited, as the seconds ticked by, as Libertus seemed to turn the thought over in his head. He waited, for the inevitable doubt, the claims of paranoia gone too far in the wake of Luche’s betrayal.

“I’m guessing you don’t have any evidence, do you.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow. That wasn’t a complete expression of doubt, even if Libertus did still seem highly sceptical of his not-theory.

“No. It’s just,” Nyx fished around for the right word that wouldn’t cause more suspicion, considering he still wasn’t sure he could just outright say ‘yeah I’ve watched Drautos murder King Regis like three times by now’. “A gut feeling. An instinct.”

“Well, your gut instinct hasn’t led us astray much at all, has it,” Libertus sighed, his stance loosening dramatically as he sat down heavily. “Astrals damn it. And considering Drautos is actually respected by the Lucians, they won’t be likely to take your word without actual evidence to back it up.”

“And obviously, I couldn’t exactly break into his house or office to look for evidence.”

“Well, you could, it’d just be difficult.”

“What.”

Libertus shrugged, before gesturing at himself and Nyx.

“We’ve both got magic, idiot.”

“Yes, and? It’s not exactly conducive to breaking and entering, you know. Security cameras exist, and I can’t exactly fireball my way into his office.”

Libertus blinked up at Nyx, before vanishing in the slightest glow of crystal-blue.

“Oh.”

Nyx sat down, on the floor of Libertus’ shoebox of a flat, and laughed into the palm of his hand. He laughed, until he registered Libertus (now visible again), shaking his shoulder.

“You good?”

“I. Yeah,” Nyx wiped away a tear from the corner of his eye. “I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me. Six, it was so obvious all along!”

He looked up at Libertus, and grinned. “Can you teach me?”

“What, now?!” Libertus looked around, before sighing once again. “You want to go searching whilst the Signing Ceremony happens, don’t you? Fuck, of course you are, you reckless piece of shit.”

“Well-“ Actually, I was more thinking it’d be good for a future loop.

“Fine. You’ve got forty minutes before your next citadel guard shift, you better be listening closely, hero. The others in my squad took at minimum three days to hold this for longer than a few seconds. You might be a warp-spammer, but this shit takes more focus than a shield, for all that it drains your magic slower.”

“I’m listening, Lib.”

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By the time Nyx had to leave for the citadel, he could hold the invisibility for all of two seconds, a feat that Libertus had briefly praised, before going right back to fondly complaining about Nyx’s aptitude with all things magical. It wasn’t enough to be truly practical, but Nyx figured he’d have time to practice it more, next loop.

“You’ll call me, yeah, if anything goes south?” Libertus had asked, grabbing hold of Nyx before he could leave.

“Yeah,” Nyx nodded. “I will.”

An hour later, he was hastily calling Crowe with the coordinates he had by now memorised, as he made his way to the rest of the Kingsglaive with their orders to mobilise. As for Libertus, he’d updated him as to the situation, tasking Libertus with keeping an eye on the situation within the city, and calling him if anything happened.

Obviously, Nyx knew that things were definitely going to happen, but the point was that he wanted Libertus to not run off and potentially get himself killed. Nyx had a plan, this time around, or at least the makings of one, and he was fairly certain he’d be able to keep his friends, the Princess, and the King alive this time around.

First off though, he had to survive the Princess’ extraction.

With a deep breath, he launched himself up onto the Niflheim ship, experience allowing him to stick the landing instead of the awkward crash his first time around. With expert motions, he directed the Glaives through the ship, right up to the point where Pelna found the Princess.

“Pelna, get out of there, now. Don’t go down that corridor, I spotted a really nasty daemon that way.” Nyx said, hurriedly, as he sprinted down the hallway to meet them. He easily ducked under a traitor’s attack, ripping off their mask just before he slit their throat.

He’d forgotten to check their identities the first few times around, too busy with trying to survive and keeping his friends alive, and while he knew he wouldn’t be able to get all of them in one run, he sure could at least find out who a few of them were.

Distantly, as he expertly tripped another traitor and killed them before they could even try and attack Pelna from behind, he wondered how much he had changed, already, with how many times he’d already replayed the past five days. Before this hell week, before the ceasefire, before the time loops, these Glaives had been his fellow comrades-in-arms. He’d saved them, and been saved in turn, on countless missions, in countless fights. And yet here he was, barely batting an eye as sisters and brothers turned on them all, as he cut them down within seconds of them raising their blades and spells against their former friends and allies. Their movements were so familiar, so scripted, he knew exactly how to move to counter their attacks, how to slip under their guard and slice them apart. The only true dangers, it seemed, would be the daemons, Luche and his posse, and General Glauca.

He shoved Pelna back with one hand as they rounded the corner, tanking a fireball from Tredd with his own shield, before retaliating with his own rapid blasts of lightning. He could hear Tredd curse, ducking around his own corner just as a tentacle from the octopus daemon began to tear the ship they were on in two.

He quickly directed Pelna and Lunafreya onto the ship they would escape in, nodding to himself as Crowe suddenly warped onto the open deck with a gasp, mirroring the events of Loop 7. He quickly shoved a couple of hi-elixirs into her hand, before turning around and seeing if he could spot Luche’s escape ship. Sadly, he couldn’t, and resigned himself to seeing those assholes again later, during the overpass chase.

“Shit, Crowe!” Pelna called out. “You’re alive?!”

“Yeah, no thanks to fucking Luche.” Crowe spat, and Nyx mentally noted down that two hi-elixirs were so much better than just one single elixir. “Nyx, you need to call Libertus, let him know what a shitshow this has all turned out to be.”

“And it’s gotten worse.” Pelna agreed, pointing out the falling Wall.

“We need to return to the Citadel-“

“Yeah, I know. The King and the Ring, right?” Nyx sighed, already calling Libertus.

“Yes, exactly- Wait, how did you know that?” Lunafreya suddenly appeared in Nyx’s field of view, eyes bright with concern, just as Nyx had finished talking to Libertus.

“You’re talking to the Glaive who’s pulled the most Citadel duty out of everyone, I picked up a few things,” Nyx said, suddenly aware of the fact that the importance of the Ring was…probably not the most common of information around. He hastily changed the subject. “I let Lib know we were coming back, he’s going to be waiting for us in the Citadel garage.”

“You sure he’ll be alright? What with that leg of his?” Pelna inquired.

“He might not look like it, but Lib is a very good driver.” Nyx thought back to the past loops. In every single one where he’d actually made it to that plaza, Libertus had, without fail, successfully crashed a car into Glauca. And on top of that, he’d also successfully navigated his way through a city in the midst of getting razed, whilst Nyx and the Old Wall had been tearing up the city in their respective fights. Libertus was the best damn driver Nyx knew, broken leg or not.

The four of them made it to the Citadel in what felt like record time, running into the signing room just in time to once again see Ravus’ arm on fire. Pelna and Lunafreya quickly hustled the King out of the room, whilst Crowe and Nyx did their best to harry Glauca with alternating blasts of fire and lightning. As they ran out of the secret tunnel and into the garage, Nyx grinned as he Libertus waved at them all. As Crowe rushed to give Libertus a one-armed hug, Nyx quietly relayed the identities of the rest of the traitorous Glaives he could be certain of, as well as his suspicions about Captain Drautos, to the King, who nodded even as he paled considerably at Nyx’s revelations.

“Astrals, but am I glad to see you, Crowe!” Libertus called out.

“You too, Libertus! Better not have done anything stupid whilst I was out.”

“Cool catch-up, but we’ve got General Glauca right on our heels,” Nyx said, slamming down another shield over the tunnel that they had just left. “We’ll take two cars. Pelna, you’re driving that car over there. Crowe, you and King Regis can get into Lib’s car. Me and the Princess will be with Pelna. We’ll exit together, and Pelna will take the lead. Lib, I want you to stay as close as possible to us, me and Crowe will be taking charge of killing anything that gets in our way, but there’s no guarantee we’ll be able to clear a path, so stay vigilant. Make sure your comms stay open.”

“Got it.” They all nodded, Crowe even giving him a thumbs up as she slid into Libertus’ car.

The drive out of the Citadel went exactly as Nyx had expected, and he quietly cackled to himself even as he leaned out of the window to throw a handful of lightning at one of the MT Armours chasing them. As he spotted the ship carrying Luche, Tredd, and the rest of their group slowly coming into view, he threw a fireball at them, before ducking back down into the car. Hastily, he grabbed the Princess’ hairpin from her, the woman too shocked by the suddenness of his action to protest.

“Pelna, hand me the wheel.”

“Nyx what-“

“You’re still good at warping, yeah? I need you to warp the Princess to Lib’s car,” Nyx sighed as Lib predictably began to also protest. “Lib, get someone to hold that door open.”

“Nyx, you fucking-“

“Pelna, now!”

To his credit, the man didn’t hesitate even with his protests, throwing his dagger in a shower of blue as he tugged the Princess along, leaving Nyx alone in his car.

Not for much longer, of course, because just as Luche and Tredd leaned out of their ship to try and shoot at them all, and just as Petra Fortis in his armoured van appeared in Nyx’s rearview mirror, Nyx turned his car to face Luche and Tredd.

The look on their faces as he drove the car straight at them would be one Nyx would savour for a long, long time. Luche’s string of curses as Nyx warped out of the car just before impact, would also be on the list of things that gave Nyx so much joy.

He landed on the side of Fortis’ van with a quiet oomph, clinging onto the kukri now lodged into the metal. A few moments later, he’d managed to swing himself into the front seat, after Fortis had rolled down the window for him.

“You’re insane, Ulric. Actually insane.” Fortis said, staring at him with wide eyes even as they caught up with Libertus and the others.

“Best warper in the Kingsglaive.” Nyx replied smugly, and winced as the yelling over his comm reached an even louder level.

After that, they somehow made it all the way to within view of the West Gate, even with the occasional daemon or magitek soldier that they ran into. It seemed Nyx’s gambit with the crashed car and the hairpin had paid off, for now, and he quietly let himself relax a little, though he kept an eye out for anything else that might stop their escape.

It was that caution that had him spotting the glimmer of silver and purple before it hit the ground in front of Libertus’ car, his yell of alarm all that they needed to grind to a halt just in time to avoid General Glauca slicing their car in two.

“Shit, Fortis, you and Lib are gonna have to guard the King and Princess, we’ll try and hold him off. If you see an opening, get out of here.” Nyx said, as he chucked a kukri out of the window, and began doing his level best to once again kill Glauca.

As Crowe covered the King and Princess’ retreat to Fortis’ van, followed by a very worried Libertus, Nyx threw himself headlong into the fight, Pelna darting in and out where he could, the two of them trying to keep Glauca’s attention long enough for Crowe to be able to join in.

“Why do you fight, for a King who would abandon us all to save his throne and his son?” Glauca roared, as Nyx warped out of the way of his sword, flinging a blast of flame to hide Pelna’s approach. “Walk away, Glaives, and you will see another day in peace, the Empire has promised it!”

“The way I see it, whatever Niflheim promised you isn’t enough to justify the utter destruction laid in its wake, Drautos.”

Glauca actually froze, momentarily, as Nyx called him by his actual name. And then cursed, because Crowe had apparently figured out how to properly stash the King and the Princess away, and had now joined the fight as well with a blast of flame that Nyx could see had melted part of his helmet.

“So, you know, then.”

“Yeah, I do, you traitorous bastard.”

The three Glaives did their best to fight Glauca, a blast of lightning from Nyx actually causing the armoured man to stumble backwards a little. This…wasn’t going terribly, Nyx thought, warping past Glauca’s shoulder and swinging back down, Pelna trying to go for Glauca’s knees at the same time. They were both flung backwards for their efforts, but Crowe had used that opportunity to slam another two fireballs at Glauca, only one of which the man was able to deflect.

In the corner of his eye, he saw a daemon making its way to them, ambling towards Fortis’ van. Nyx cursed, and launched himself at Glauca, trying to herd him out of the way so that Fortis could make a break for it, before the daemon got to them.

“Crowe, Pelna, we need to get Glauca out of the way!”

Pelna nodded, grunting as he parried a punch, before warping away from Crowe’s attack. Nyx dove forward immediately after, hissing as Glauca’s sword drew a sharp cut across his cheek, but it was worth it as he managed to get close enough to unleash a pulse of lightning strong enough to send Glauca back a few vital steps. He warped out of the way of his retaliation, letting Pelna take over briefly as he cracked an elixir onto himself.

They just needed to get Glauca a little further away, and then Fortis could, hopefully, get out of the city.

But Pelna was tiring, and so was Nyx, the fighting from earlier having already taken its toll even though they had come out of that mess mostly unharmed.

Glauca, on the other hand, seemed to be fuelled by whatever cursed shit made up that armour of his, and probably a few other things as well.

At this rate, Nyx had the feeling he’d be needing to put that damn Ring back on his finger. Again.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Pelna yelled as he dodged several swings of the sword, managing to avoid getting skewered only for Glauca to catch him around the waist and fling him across the road.

“Pelna!” Nyx yelled, unable to check on his friend as Glauca was now attacking him, and thank the Astrals that Nyx had already seen some of these moves and knew how to counter them, because it should be illegal how fast Glauca could move, in armour like that.

Nyx managed to blast Glauca in the way of one of Crowe’s fire blasts, just as he heard the screeching of tires. He grinned, even as Glauca doubled his attacks at him, Nyx holding up a shield just as he felt the van fly past him, the vehicle close enough to almost him.

“You do realise that you will die here, that nothing will stop me from killing that coward King.” Glauca growled, as he batted Nyx away.

“Your armour’s looking real bad, you know that?” Nyx quipped back, nodding to Pelna as the two of the charged at Glauca, Nyx aiming a blast of frost at Glauca’s feet whilst Pelna tried for a headshot.

They both missed, Glauca almost managing to get a kick out at Nyx, but they both managed to distract him enough to take yet another gout of fire to the head.

“You. I knew I should’ve had you killed when I had the chance!” Glauca roared, charging suddenly at Crowe, a sliver of skin visible along his collarbone.

“No!” Nyx yelled, warping after him, only to get a fist straight to his chest, winding him as he crumpled to the ground.

He could see Crowe warping out of the way, but she’d never fought Glauca in melee combat before, and melee wasn’t even her specialty-

The axe that lodged itself in Glauca’s collarbone surprised them all.

Glauca’s yell of surprise and pain was nearly drowned out by Libertus’ warcry, as the man suddenly appeared, his axe in both hands as he braced himself and completed his swing, turning that sliver of collarbone into a bloody gash, although Nyx could see the silver of the armour already trying to repair itself.

“That’s my sister you nearly killed, you bastard.” Libertus spat, and ducked as Crowe tossed fireball after fireball at Glauca, before she turned and set the approaching daemon alight as well.

“How-“

Nyx didn’t give him time to finish, letting Pelna use him as a springboard to launch right at Glauca, the man plunging a dagger right into that open wound before he landed in front of Libertus and Crowe, ready to help defend them.

“Damn, he’s still going?” Pelna shook his head, flinging up a shield to briefly deflect Glauca’s next attack. “That should’ve at least slowed him down significantly.”

Nyx warped back into the fight, giving the three time to reposition themselves as he tried his best to carve out more of Glauca. This fight was just as frustrating as it had been all the times before, as even though he had his friends with him, it was balanced out by the fact he didn’t have the extra power from the Ring. For all of his experience, Glauca was the worst enemy he had to fight, and it showed.

Drautos had been their commander, their beloved Captain. He knewall of their moves, or at least most of them, their fighting styles, their habits and their weaknesses. And that meant that he could counteract them with more ease than he should have.

Which meant that Nyx had to do something unpredictable, something so utterly insane not even Drautos could predict it.

His gaze skittered over the road, looking for something he could maybe use to his advantage. He couldn’t see anything, just broken concrete and asphalt, Libertus’ by-now trashed car, the corpse of a daemon smouldering behind them-

He looked back at the car, where there was a puddle of fuel slowly leaking from its side.

His first thought was that it was a wonder it hadn’t caught alight, what with Crowe’s flames. His second thought was that surely Glauca wasn’t completely explosion-proof, even with that armour of his.

“Guys!” He yelled, sprinting back into the fight. “I’m going to try something, I need you to herd him backwards, to the car!”

“What are you going to do, trip me?” Glauca actually sounded a bit amused, even though he was, in fact, getting slowly pushed backwards by their combined assault.

“No, even better,” Nyx watched as Glauca was finally backed up to the car, and probably as far as he’d get before he’d clue into the petrol leaking from Libertus’ car. “Everyone, get back!”

Pelna’s eyes widened in understanding, as he warped away and grabbed Libertus with him, and Nyx tossed as large a fireball as he could at Glauca and the car.

The resulting inferno wasn’t quite as impressive as the explosion Nyx had been hoping for, but the screaming from within was.

“Do you…think that’d kill him?” Pelna asked, as they all stared at the flaming wreck, from a safe distance away.

“I’m…not actually sure,” Nyx admitted. “Actually, are cars supposed to catch on fire like that?”

“If they’re a good quality car, no.” Libertus growled. “Cheap piece of shit.”

“Eh, better safe than sorry.”

The three men looked at Crowe as she began to hurl more fireballs at the car (and presumably Glauca), her barrage only pausing when she had to crack an elixir, before continuing on. Nyx shrugged, and joined in, except with lightning bolts. Her logic was sound, in his opinion, even if Pelna and Libertus were staring at them with increasing amounts of fear.

There was one slightly harrowing moment as they watched Glauca actually stumble forwards a few moments later, but Nyx and Crowe’s panicked blasts of lightning and fire respectively quickly had him crumpling to the ground. They stayed where they were, for a few moments longer, to see if he would get back up, before Nyx sprayed the flaming wreck with a light blizzard, and they moved closer to see whether Glauca truly was dead.

“Oh, yikes.” Crowe muttered, staring at the body on the road.

“That’s a lot of- I don’t think a burned body is supposed to smell like that.” Pelna commented, holding a hand up to his nose.

“Must be the armour, that shit was magitek. Must’ve had a bad reaction to all that fire we were hurling at him at the end.” Libertus reasoned.

Nyx simply marched up to the body, and stabbed what he assumed was the head. Twice.

“Alright, he’s definitely dead.” Nyx concluded. “If he wasn’t before, by some miracle, he is now.”

Crowe cackled, a little hysterically.

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

A little later, Nyx trudged behind his three friends as they headed for the nearest haven, presumably to rest and recover before they tried to meet up with any other survivors of the Invasion.

Dawn was breaking on the horizon, and he was simultaneously relieved by the sight, and dreading its arrival.

On one hand, as far as he was aware, he’d managed to keep all of his friends, and the King and the Princess, alive. Even Fortis was alive, and that was something Nyx hadn’t expected. But on the other hand, Insomnia was still a smouldering ruin, the Empire had gotten away with that Crystal, and Nyx was pretty certain the fatality count was up in the hundreds of thousands.

Up until now, he hadn’t managed to live past the dawn, had always died as soon as the sun had fully risen above the horizon. What if his survival now meant that the loops were finished? The thought scared him, somehow. He’d gotten used to slowly inching his way to figuring out the multitude of things that had led up to the city’s fall, and the destruction that came with it. What if he could’ve had more chances to try and stop everything from happening in the first place, if only he figured out a way to die before the dawn? What if there were parts to this puzzle he didn’t yet know about, vital pieces that could ensure everyone’s survival without the destruction of the city?

But, if he looped back now, then wouldn’t all the fighting he had just done be for naught? He looked at his friends, at their tired, but cheerful, expressions. To them, they’d just survived one of the greatest tragedies since the Fall of Galahd, and had even managed to kill the legendary General Glauca, the man responsible for the destruction of not only Galahd, but also Tenebrae, and now Insomnia.

He couldn’t- He couldn’t take that away from them.

And so, Nyx Ulric watched as the sun rose above the horizon, Pelna cheering as one of the imps that had been about to approach them almost instantly melted away into daemonic miasma.

And stopped.

He shuddered, clutching his head as a sudden spell of dizziness overtook him. He vaguely heard Libertus’ cry of alarm, as he stumbled backwards, something tugging on his chest even as the world around him seemed to flicker in and out like a bad television signal. Nyx had the abrupt sensation of the ground beneath him giving way, before his vision fragmented, like a broken mosaic almost, and he fell, dragged along by an unseen force. The swirl of colours that his vision had devolved into was nauseating, and Nyx shut his eyes, the sensation of freefalling continuing until-

He sat upright with a shout, as the world snapped back into place, and he was greeted by the familiar sight of his dimly lit apartment, sunlight streaming through the cheap curtains.

#ffxv #ff15 #final fantasy 15 #final fantasy xv #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv kingsglaive #nyx ulric #libertus ostium #crowe altius #pelna khara #carminite writes #Running Onwards (A Timelooping Nyx AU)#Loop 9 or as I like to call it #the one where Nyx finds out what it feels like to get yeeted back in time

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falcqns · 4 years ago

Text

Free Fall

Pairing: Henry Cavill x reader (first person pov)

Chapter Summary: You and Henry have a good talk about your future, and Henry propositions you.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of mental illness (ppd, insomnia, anxiety), mention of stepparent, mention of deadbeat father.

A/N: this one is very personal to me. i understand that not everyone’s father has left, and that not everyone has an amazing stepdad like i do, but i thought i’d worked with the plot. i hope you enjoyed! I also apologize for these chapters being so short, i’m battling PPD, and trying to kill time before my daughter wakes up lol

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four |

chapter four

It was 4:30 am and you were awoken by the sound of your daughter crying out for you. But, as you moved to get up, Henry placed his hand on your shoulder to keep her in place.

“I’ll get her, you stay,” He whispered, and pressed a kiss to your temple. You sat up just in time to see Henry lifting your daughter out of her bassinet. You looked over at Henry and noticed he was only wearing underpants, which made you blush. You had never seen him this bare before. You had seen him without a shirt on, but not without pants.

“Good morning!” He cooed at her, and placed her against his chest. “Did you have a good sleep?”

Lavender smiled and waved her arms around on Henry’s chest. He smiled and brought her over to you so you could feed her. You pulled your daughter into your arms, and got her attached to your breast, before settling back against the headboard.

Henry got back into bed, and placed a hand on your leg under the covers, his thumb rubbing back and forth.

You noticed that every once in a while he would glance down at Lavender and then back up at you with a smile on his face, the biggest one you had ever seen on him.

“What?” You questioned him with a giggle.

He shrugged. “You’re beautiful like this. With her in your arms. She’s beautiful. And it’s hard to believe that you went through your pregnancy all alone, and gave birth alone-,” He said, but you interjected before he could finish.

“I didn’t go through labour alone. I had my mom and cousin in the room with me,”

Henry tilted his head to the side, with a knowing look on his face. “You know what I mean,” He said, and lifted his hand from your thigh to the hairs on Lavenders head. “You didn’t have her dad, or someone like that there for you. And you’re still so happy about being a mom, and in general.”

You scoffed. “I am definitely not happy all the time.”

Henry narrowed his eyes at you, his hand not moving from Lavenders hair.

“What do you mean?” He asked, slightly afraid of the answer.

“I have post partum depression. It’s not fun in any way. It means I get intense mood swings, I cry over nothing, I have intense anxiety and anxiety attacks, and I can barely sleep at night. I barely have enough energy after filming on top of it too.” You whispered, and Henry immediately sat up.

“Y/N, baby, I hate that you have to go through that, especially alone. I want to help you. Help take some of the stress of off you.” He said, as he wrapped an arm around you, and slid his thumb that still sat on Lavenders head, down her nose, like he had done yesterday. She unlatched momentarily to smile at Henry, before returning to her meal.

“Are - are you sure? I don’t want to force you into something you’re not ready for,” You whispered, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “We’re a lot of work.” You joked. He chuckled, and leant down to press a kiss to Lavenders head.

“I’d want nothing more. I know she’s biologically not my child, and I literally have only known her less than 24 hours, but I want to get to know her, and raise her with you.” He said, his gaze not leaving Lavender.

You sniffles, but nodded, and pressed a kiss to Henry’s soft lips. “We’re all yours. But, can you promise me something?” You asked apprehensively.

“Of course,” He said, pressing another kiss to your head, and Lav’s.

“C-can we not tell her that she’s not yours? Atleast until she’s a grown up?” You asked. Immediately Henry smiled.

“Of course, angel. Can I ask why?” He questioned, and you nodded.

“I just- my father left before I was born, much like hers did. I have an amazing stepdad, who you’d know as my dad.” Henry nodded, remembering when he met him. “He always assures me I’m his daughter and nothing will change that, but growing up and knowing that I wasn’t truly his always bothered me. Especially when my siblings were born. It didn’t bother me majorly, just once in a while. I don’t want her to go through that.”

You heard Henry left out a breath. “I would do anything for you and her. I’ll adopt her. I’ll raise her like my own. Because we may not be family by blood, but we’re family by heart, and both you and I know that that’s all that matters. The people that you love, that’s your family, baby.”

You were full out crying now, and Henry pulled you closer. “Thank you,” You whispered.

“You’re welcome my love.” Henry answered, as Lavender finished her meal, and moved away from your nipple.

“Do you wanna hold your daughter again?” You whispered with a smile on your face. Henry nodded, tears brimming in his eyes.

He took her from your arms, bent his knees, and laid her little body against it.

“Hi, baby girl, I’m your daddy,” He whispered.

The three of you spent the rest of the morning in bed together before venturing to the kitchen. Henry hadn’t let go of Lavender since he took her out of your arms earlier that morning. He also kept pressing kisses to her head, which melted your heart.

You finally managed to convince him to put her in the high chair so he could make his coffee. He laid her down, and gave her lots of kisses before venturing away.

Neither of your felt like cooking, so you settled on cereal for breakfast. Lavenders eyes drifted over to you two every once in a while.

“Do you have to go and take care of Kal?” You mentioned.

He looked at his watch. “Oh shit yeah. Why don’t you two come with me? It pretty warm, we could take her swimming in my pool. We won’t be able to do that in a few weeks when we leave to go film in Europe.” He suggested.

You smiled. “I agree.”

The two of you finished your meals, and you packed the diaper bag while Henry distracted the baby.

Once everything was ready, Henry strapped the baby into her car seat. He put the pack and play, along with the diaper bag into his car. While you were digging around for the spare base you had for her car seat, he was making her smile with her stuffed Winnie The Pooh.

Finally, you found it, and showed Henry how to install it in his car, and how the car seat worked with it, then you guys were off to his house.

You had been there before many times, but you always forgot how big it was. He pulled into his garage, and immediately went to the back door to get his daughter out.

‘his daughter.’

That thought blew your mind. Just a few days ago, you were a single mom, struggling with post partum depression, with a baby only a handful of people knew about. Today, you had amazing co stars who immediately accepted your daughter and you even though you hid her from them, and most importantly, you had Henry. He was your boyfriend, the father of your child, your best friend, and your support system. It blew your mind how everything was falling together.

#pregnancy #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #august walker #mission impossible #i love this man

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dameronology · 4 years ago

Text

the one where he catches feelings (mando x reader)

summary: after months of trying to hide his feelings, the thought of you with someone else is another to push the mandalorian over the edge

warnings: swearing, jealousy, implied smut

enjoy!

- val xx

p.s this has barely been proof read because i am the worst

The Mandalorian didn’t quite understand the concept of feelings.

How could he? Before you, the nearest thing he’d ever got to a relationship was sleeping with the same person twice. He had long surpassed that number with you but that wasn’t the complicated part. He hadn’t even worried about catching feelings when you’d agreed on the casual arrangements - he was the Mandalorian. And the Mandalorian didn’t catch feelings.

But contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t a droid. He wasn’t an emotionless void with a beer in one hand and a blaster in the other. Din Djarin - the human being behind the mysterious metal mask - was very, very capable of catching feelings. What had started as a casual arrangement between two touch starved friends had booted him up the arse and sent him into a death spiral.

Not that he’d ever tell you . Absolutely not. Never, not even if you paid him a million credits. In fact, it was probably a good thing that he had to keep that tin can on his head 24/7 for fear of you being able to read his expressions of adoration. If the idea of you seeing his facial expressions was that terrifying, the possibility of you finding out about his actual feelings was enough to send him into a state of catatonia.

That is exactly what brought him into his current dilemma. You’d docked up on a planet for a few weeks so that the kid could stretch his little green cankles and catch a few frogs - and on your first night, you and Din had crossed paths with a former flame of yours in a cantina. You’d agreed to go out for a drink with him and now all he could was watch in horror as you made yourself look beautiful for another man. He didn’t like that one bit.

‘Mando!’ Your voice echoed throughout the cockpit as you kicked open the door, the smell of your perfume immediately overwhelming his senses. ‘Have you seen my boots?’

‘Y-your boots?’ He blinked in surprise, trying to act as though your appearance hadn’t just knocked the air out of his lungs.

‘The things that go on my feet?’ You thinned your eyes at him. ‘Tauntaun got your tongue?’

‘No...I just…’ he cleared his throat, standing up. ‘You look nice.’

‘Oh, thank you.’ Now it was your turn to blink in surprise. His compliments were usually only the balls-deep kind (make of that what you will).

Din knew that he had no place to be upset about the fact you were going out for a drink with another guy. You weren’t exclusive - far from it, in fact. You weren’t his partner; you could only be described as his partner-in-crime-and-occasional-babysitter-who-he-sometimes-shagged.

Good luck finding a Valentine’s Day card for that title.

‘This guy.’ Din cleared his throat. ‘Were you and him...serious?’

‘Are you asking if he was more serious than us?’

Us. Us. Us.

He replayed the word over and over in his head. It sounded so right - us. You, him and the Child. A small, ragtag family of two parents and their weird, wrinkly child. It felt so perfect, the sort of thing that could finally give him a sense of security after years on his own. Din had never considered himself the kind of guy who wanted any of that; but then again, he’d considered himself a lot of things before he met you.

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘I was just curious. If tonight goes well, you might end up staying with him and I need to consider how that would affect the kid-’

‘- you’re full of shit.’ You cut him off.

You knew that he liked you - and you liked him. Why else would you stay holed up in this absolute garbage can of a ship with him? You sure as hell weren’t doing it out of common courtesy. But you also weren’t going to wait around for Din to get off his ass and tell you that he liked you. The difference between him and the man you were seeing tonight is that the latter had asked you out.

‘But you can’t tell me it’s not a possibility.’ Din’s voice was cold.

‘You’re right.’ You shot back. ‘Maybe me and this guy will fall in love, get married and adopt ten frog-ass looking babies.’

‘Y/N.’

‘Be realistic, you tinhead.’ You lightly thwacked his helmet, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of it. ‘Remember that our frog-ass looking baby needs to be fed at 11 and asleep by midnight.’

‘He’s been in my care longer than yours, I know what I’m doing-’

‘- and if he goes toilet in his robes again, there’s some clean ones hanging up by your bed.’ You gave his shoulder a light squeeze. ‘See you later.’

‘Stay safe.’ And don’t fall in love with him

Din was silently kicking himself. He wanted you to be dressing up for him, getting ready to go out on dates with him - not whoever this...this nerfherder was. If only he could pull his head out of his shiny, beskar ass and just tell you. But he couldn’t. That’s where he fell short.

And so he watched you walk off the Crest, a trail of perfume in your wake and the Child peeping out from his crib to wave his stubby arms at you. By all intents and purposes, you were his second parent; he was even more attached to you than he was to Din. He would babble and cry whenever you were absent, something that proved to drive the Mandalorian insane for the rest of the night.

The Child wouldn’t shut up - he was crying one minute, giggling the next. If he wasn’t bawling and staring aimlessly at your empty seat, he was practically climbing the walls, performing surprisingly impressive acrobatics as he leapt from the switchboard and onto Din’s lap.

‘I know, kid.’ Mando reached out to him, placing him gently in his lap. ‘I miss her too.’

It was approaching 2AM by the time you got back.

You entered the jet as quietly as possible, holding your shoes in one hand as you clambered up the ramp. The night had gone fine - the guy you met was clearly into you. He’d had his hand on your thigh the whole time, his intentions staring right back at you the same way your reflection did in Mando’s helmet. After final call, you’d covered your half of the bill and left.

You’d spent the whole night wanting to be back here - laying with Din and the kid, watching some ridiculous cartoon on the old holovid player in an attempt to entertain him. It was the never life you thought you’d want but things had a funny way of working out. They’d both fallen into your lap by chance and you were wondering how you’d even considered going out with someone else.

Mando was sitting on the edge of his bed, the Child snoozing quietly in his arms. Most of his beskar was scattered on the floor; he was only wearing the helmet and the shirt and pants that went underneath. That was usually a sign that he was relaxed, at ease for once in his damned life.

He would argue otherwise but you knew he’d probably been there hours, not having the heart to move and wake him. Below the armour, he had a huge fucking heart (and it belonged to you, obviously).

‘Hey, can man.’ You quietly greeted him. You took a seat beside him, softly taking the Child from his arms. ‘How you doing?’

‘I’m tired. He wouldn’t settle all night.’ Din replied. ‘How was your date?’

‘It wasn’t a date.’ You lightly elbowed him. ‘I just...it was just drinks.’

You slowly stood up, placing the Child in his crib. You closed up the lid and turned back to face Mando; the room was dim bar one small lamp, the light of which bounced right off his helmet and into your eyes. You wanted to rip the damn thing off and just look at him - read his face, his expressions. Then you might have known what the fuck was going through that mind of his.

Sometimes you could read him like a book - but a book where every other page was missing. He had some tells; little actions and noises that you understand. Other times, he was completely off with you. He’d make love to you in the night and treat you like an old childhood friend the next day.

‘Why does it even matter to you?’ You continued. ‘Why do you care so much that I went out with another guy?’

‘I told you. If you stayed here, on this planet-’

‘- you know I wouldn’t do that!’ You cut him off. ‘This planet is much less of a shithole than this damned ship but you know I would never leave you or the kid.’

‘I can’t be sure of that.’ He bluntly replied.

‘You are so stupid, Din Djarin.’

The Mandalorian knew that shit was about to get real when you pulled out his real name. You usually called him Mando, or some variant of affectionate, armour-related nickname. The last time you’d used his real title was when he’d almost died, months ago. Other than that, it was reserved only for the most dire of situations.

‘Why?’ He stood up. You took a step back when he did, momentarily forgetting that he was a six-foot-man in a suit of steel.

‘You know why.’ You jabbed your finger into his chest. ‘And if you weren’t so scared to say it, I wouldn’t have even thought about looking at another man, much less let him take me out for a drink and kiss me and touch my leg the whole damn night.’

(Most of that hadn’t actually happened but it was simply for argument’s sake. Go big or go home, after all).

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Great. So you won’t mind that I’m meeting him again tomorrow.’

(Another lie).

‘I’m fine with that.’

(Also a whopper).

‘Maybe I will stay here.’ You said. ‘See where my relationship with him goes, because at least he has the balls to tell me how he’s feeling.’

(Stop with the damn lying).

You turned on your heel, boots clattering to the floor as you marched towards the refresher. Before you could reach the ladder, Din had hit the switch on the only light in the room. Darkness suddenly overcame the hull, causing you to stop in your tracks. A moment later, there was a clunking sound, the sound of beskar echoing off the walls of the ship.

His helmet hitting the floor.

He suddenly grabbed you, pulling you towards him with such force that your chest hit his with a thump. You were going to complain, to tell him that you wanted to sleep, dammit -

- Then he kissed you.

Din had kissed you multiple times before but not like this. It was hungry, bordering on desperate, as if to say you’re not fucking going anywhere. And you weren’t. You had no intention of ever straying from him or the Child or the ship but you needed him to be honest with you.

And this? This felt pretty damn honest.

‘I’m not good with words.’ He murmured against your lips. ‘I never have been with you.’

‘Just say it.’ You whispered. ‘I’m right there with you.’

‘You promise?’

‘I prom-’

‘- I love you.’ He cut you off before you could finish. ‘You’re everything to me.’

‘I love you too.’ You softly smiled, hands roaming around his shoulders in an attempt to work around the darkness. ‘There’s no-one else.’

I know.’ Din pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. ‘Except that little womprat.’

‘Our little womprat.’

tags: @obirain @lizzyolanda1966 @thisisaredflag @aty-cgca7

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #din imagine #din djarin imagine #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mando x reader #mando imagine #star wars imagine #star wars fanfic #star wars x reader #star wars imagines

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mermaidssonshipss · 4 years ago

Text

handcuffs

warning: smut, cursing, unprotected sex (DON’T RISK IT LADIES)

pairing(s): jj maybank x Reader

word count: 3,861 (she’s a long one strap in babies)

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you seethed, your eyes narrowing at John B as you watched him cower in the corner, a smirk playing along his lips.

“Dude this isn’t funny,” JJ’s voice piped up from next to you, his hands gesturing wildly at the handcuffs that currently had you attached to JJ.

“I think it’s pretty damn funny,” his smirk only widened and you went to lunge at him, tugging JJ along who quickly wrapped his free hand around your waist and yanked you back.

“Hurt him and he’ll never let us go.”

“Get off me,” you snapped, pushing his arm away from your waist as he rolled his eyes at your attitude.

“Look, I’m tired of you guys constantly fighting,” John B began, his smirk fading as he spoke, “Everyone is tired of you guys constantly fighting, so we all thought it would be a good idea to like... stick you guys together for 24 hours and hopefully end the fighting.”

“24 HOURS?” You yelled, your hand tugging at JJ’s and yanking him forward with you as you once again lunged at John B, but JJ’s large body stood his ground causing you to fall back into him, “John B, we can’t even be in the same room for an hour without wanting to kill each other, let alone 24 hours in handcuffs. How am I even supposed to pee?”

“You guys will figure it out,” he shrugged and you shook your head, turning to JJ who was oddly quiet. He was already looking at you, a smirk matching John B’s on his face.

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled, knowing he was getting a kick out of your anger towards his best friend, considering that anger was usually directed at him.

“Any other girl would be begging to be in this position babe,” he snorted, causing John B to roll his eyes and shake his head.

“Anyways, I’m leaving for the day. You two can figure your shit out on your own without me here.”

“JOHN B! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME HERE,” you called after him, watching as he walked out the front door with a wave.

***

You had been sitting on the couch of the chateau for an hour, fighting over what to watch on TV. JJ didn’t really care what you watched, he just liked watching you get frustrated, realizing you couldn’t just walk away from him, and you would let out a loud huff before sinking back into the couch.

The Pogues had been reluctant to welcome you into their group when you first moved onto the island a year ago. You were technically considered a kook, but you had made it clear your first week on the island you didn’t give a shit about how much money someone had. Sarah loved you the second she met you; your family had been invited over to her house for a welcome dinner, and Rafe had made a comment about getting you in his bed under his breath so only you could hear it, and you had proceeded to grab your mothers glass of wine that was across from you, flinging the red liquid all over Rafe. Sarah immediately texted the other Pogues about what had happened, and they agreed to meet you the next day.

While the others warmed up to you and you melted into the group smoothly, for some reason, JJ was an absolute dick from day one. JJ didn’t like change, and he especially didn’t like bringing new people into the Pogues. With Sarah, he had at least known the girl since they were kids, making it slightly easier to accept her into the group. She also made John B happy, which was all JJ cared about.

JJ didn’t hate you, but he loved making you angry, so he acted like he did. Truth be told, JJ thought you were perfect in every way, you were too good for him, so he decided it was easier to make you hate him than silently pine after you.

You didn’t hate JJ, he just got on your god damn nerves so often. Sometimes the things he said and the way he acted towards you hurt your feelings, and for a while you had considered excusing your friendship from the Pogues, but when you brought it up to Sarah, she assured you the others loved you, and JJ was just... well.. JJ. You also couldn’t stand the kooks, and if you left the Pogues, you’d be left with no friends.

A puff of smoke whirled around the two of you, the scent of bubblegum invading your senses. You inhaled quietly, enjoying the smell mixed with JJ’s cologne, though you’d never admit it to him. It was quiet for a moment, but eventually the vape pen he had in his hand came into your line of sight. His eyes locked on yours, an eyebrow raising as you hesitated for a moment before wrapping your lips around the small black device and inhaling deeply, the smoke filling your lungs. You let your eyes close as you leaned your head against the couch, tossing the remote into JJ’s lap.

“Watch whatever,” you muttered, the heat from outside taking away your ability to continue arguing.

JJ’s eyes were locked on the way your chest was rising and falling, sweat beads dripping down the exposed skin. You were wearing a sleeveless floral sundress, the top dipping into your cleavage, and JJ could tell you weren’t wearing a bra. The sundress you were wearing was JJ’s favorite on you, but of course he’d never admit that to you.

Unfortunately for him, you could feel his gaze on you and you shot an eye open, scrunching your nose at the blue-eyed boy.

“Take a picture, Maybank,” you chuckled, watching his eyes widen as he realized he’d been caught, but it was quickly replaced with a smirk.

“Ya know what, I think I will,” his hand reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and opening the camera, tilting it towards your chest as he snapped a picture before you could react.

“Pervert,” you muttered, knocking your shoulder into his, but your cheeks heated up at the thought of JJ having a photo like that of you in his phone. JJ let out a loud laugh, shaking his head before turning his attention back to the remote.

Another hour had passed, and somewhere in there JJ had rolled a joint, you quickly plucking it from his fingers and taking a long drag. Now, you were both feeling the affects of the drugs in your system, your eyes hazy and your breathing deep. You were uncomfortable, the heat becoming unbearable, and you let out a quiet whine as the sweat dripped down your thighs.

“It’s so hot,” you huffed, yanking your hands up to tie your hair back in a messy bun, JJ’s hand weighing your own down slightly as you finished.

“Welcome to the Outer Banks,” JJ snapped, rolling his eyes at you as he unsuccessfully tried to wiggle his hand out of the handcuff.

In your current state of mind, the tone he had taken with you caused you to pout. You had managed to go the past few hours without saying much, and when you had spoken, it had been civil. You thought, maybe, he had finally decided to stop hating you.

“If you don’t like the heat, why don’t you leave? Would make all our lives much better,” JJ didn’t know why he was being so mean, truly. When he was high, his mind usually wandered to places that involved you and him, with much less clothing, so he always forced himself to be mean to you to make the thoughts go away.

You were silent for a moment, his words ringing through your head. Maybe he was right, maybe things would be easier if you just left them alone.

“Fuck you, JJ,” your body raised from the couch, yanking him up with you as you pulled him into the kitchen, ignoring his protests and complaints about his wrist hurting. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes as you searched the kitchen, looking for the heavy duty knife you had seen once as you searched the kitchen for food.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting the fuck away from you,” your voice shook slightly as you spoke, your fingers wrapping around the knife causing JJ’s eyes to widen.

“Wow wow, you’re not gonna like chop your hand off? Or mine?” You ignored his words, raising the knife and slamming it down on the chain that connected the handcuffs. In all honesty, you hadn’t expected it to work, but the cuffs were cheap and the knife sliced through the material easily, freeing you.

Without sending a second glance to JJ, you stormed out of the kitchen, grabbing your bag from the floor and storming out the front door, just as the other Pogues had arrived to check on you two.

“Hey! How’d you get free?” John B yelled, watching as you stormed to your car, but Kie put a hand on his bicep, nodding towards the tears that were falling down your cheeks.

“Shit,” Sarah mumbled, her feet rushing towards you, but it was too late. You had slammed your car door shut and taken off, the sounds of your tires screeching as you drove away.

“What the fuck did you say?” Kie was livid as she stormed through the chateau, Sarah hot on her heels, finding JJ back on the couch. He looked up at the two girls, confusion written all over his face.

“Nothing new, who cares? She’s a big girl, she’ll be fine,” he rolled his eyes, but Pope threw his backpack at JJ, knocking him in the face.

“She was crying. You’ve never made her cry before,” Pope was just as angry as the others, and as JJ heard you had left crying, his stomach twisted in knots.

“I didn’t...” he tried to speak, but Sarah cut him off.

“God just a few months ago she came to me crying about how she was going to leave us, to make YOUR life easier, and I had to convince her to not push us away, JJ. I don’t know what the fuck your problem is with her, she didn’t do anything,” John B was silent as he watched his girlfriend yell at JJ, his eyes watching him closely. He knew why JJ was the way he was. He knew JJ better than anyone.

“It’s because he’s in love with her,” his voice was calm as he spoke, and JJ sent him a death glare as he stood up from the couch.

“Shut up, John B,” he was seething now, angry at the brunette for knowing him so well.

“He’s scared of loving her, too,” John B didn’t listen, continuing as JJ was now stood chest to chest with him, “His mom left him, and he doesn’t think he deserves someone like Y/N, so he figured it’s easier to push her away.” JJ’s hands slammed into John B’s chest, pushing the boy back into the wall.

“You don’t know shit, John B,” JJ spat, his eyes reddening. The other Pogues were silent, watching the two, realization washing over them: everything John B had said made sense.

“You need to go tell her your sorry, JJ,” Kie’s voice was calm as she spoke, her hand resting on JJ’s shoulder, “I’m not saying confess your love or anything, but you need to apologize. She isn’t as strong as you think.”

***

Your parents weren’t home. A half-assed note had been left on the kitchen counter, informing you they would be gone for the week on a business trip. A dry laugh passed your lips as you wiped away the newly formed tears that dripped down your cheeks.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to yourself before storming up the stairs and into your room.

Normally, the things JJ had said to you would be brushed off and forgotten by now, but you were so tired of the blonde haired boys hatred for you. You were used to your parents not giving a shit about you and wishing you were gone, but when you had met the Pogues you finally felt like you had a purpose. You were happy. And despite JJ being so mean, you found it fun, until today. Until he said he wanted you gone. You were in the shower now, scrubbing off the scent of JJ that rubbed off on you, rubbing your skin raw until it hurt to scrub any longer. The shower lasted 30 minutes before you had had enough of the warm water burning your skin and the scent of JJ was long gone. A towel was wrapped tightly around your small stature, your wet hair dangling down your back as you made your way into your bedroom. Immediately you could smell him, the scent of his bubblegum vape, weed, and his cologne slapping you in the face, and then you saw him. He was sat on your bed, his eyes watching you intently.

“What the fuck!” You yelped, your fingers gripping the towel tightly as you stared at the boy that was sat on your bed, “How the fuck did you get in here?” Your voice was shaky as you spoke, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You left the door unlocked,” he responded simply.

“So you’re coming to my house to make me feel like shit now?”

“No, that’s not why I’m here,” JJ sighed, his eyes falling to the floor in front of him. He ripped his hat off, running his fingers through his hair before resting his hand on the back of his neck, rubbing it deeply, “I came here to apologize.”

“I don’t need a bullshit apology because the others made you,” you snapped, stepping closer to him.

“I’m not here because they made me,” his voice raised as he stood from your bed, stepping closer to you now, “I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do, and if I didn’t want to apologize, I wouldn’t be here.” You were looking into his blue-eyes as he spoke, trying to read his emotions, but you couldn’t, “I don’t hate you, and I never did,” you rolled your eyes, your arms crossing over your chest causing JJ’s eyes to wander down before quickly snapping back up to your eyes, “I’m serious. I just...” he trailed off, letting out a long sigh as he threw his head back, “You make me feel... weird.”

“Just what every girl wants to hear,” you snorted, causing JJ to smile slightly as he looked back down at you.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way. I don’t know how I mean it, but I know when I see you... my heart starts to race, and I get... hot. Everywhere. And then you laugh or you scrunch your nose when you get irritated with me and I just want to pull you in and kiss you and never stop and honestly... I’m terrified. I don’t date. I don’t do relationships, but then you came along and suddenly I wanted all of that. With you. But you... you deserve so much better than me,” his words were coming out rushed, but you caught every one, your cheeks reddening at every admission.

“Why would you think that? That I deserve better?” your voice was gentle as you stepped even closer to JJ, your hand reaching up and resting on his cheek, “Because I’m a kook? And you’re a Pogue? I thought I’ve made it clear I don’t care about that, about money.”

“It’s not that,” he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing slowly, “I don’t know how to love someone, Y/N. Not in the way you deserve to be loved.”

“JJ Maybank, you of all people know how to love more than anyone else in my life. You don’t see it, but I do. The way you love John B, Kiara, and Pope. Even Sarah. It’s in the subtle things you do, the way you’re willing to protect them, even if that means pulling a gun out on someone or taking the fall for something Pope did. The way you watch out for both Kie and Pope at every party, making sure they don’t drink too much, or too little. You show your love when you think I’m asleep, passed out because I’ve had too much to drink and you carry me into the guest bedroom, letting me sleep in your bed, and then in the morning you claim I stumbled there myself,” Your lips were hovering over his now, getting closer with every word you spoke, and JJ couldn’t focus. His head was spinning, his stomach was in knots, and quite frankly he couldn’t stop thinking about how he was confessing his love to you and you were standing in front of him in nothing but a towel.

Instead of responding, he pressed his lips to yours, his arms winding around your waist and pulling you into him. The kiss was heavy from the beginning, a year of unspoken and repressed emotions clawing their way out in the form of a kiss. You were spinning, your hands making their way into his hair and tugging on the blonde locks, a sigh leaving your lips as he let out a moan into your mouth at the gentle tug.

His grip on you tightened, his fingers latching onto the soft fabric of your towel as he tugged on it, causing it to fall to the floor. He pulled his lips away from yours, stepping back and taking in your figure.

“Fuck,” he muttered at the sight in front of him, his pupils blown so wide his eyes were almost black. You didn’t respond, simply stepped into him again, your own fingers tugging his shirt off and throwing it on the floor beside you two before you pushed him back onto your bed, crawling into his lap.

Just hours ago, you had been crying and storming out of the chateau, swearing you would never talk to JJ again, and now you were naked, in his lap, about to let him fuck the shit out of you. You didn’t regret a thing.

“I need you, JJ,” you whispered, your hands going to work on the shorts he currently had on, tugging them down quickly.

“Are you sure you want this?” he rushed out, pushing your body back onto the bed so he was hovering over you now, his fingers trailing down your bare skin.

“JJ, I’ve wanted you since I first met you... oh...” you gasped as his fingers slipped between your folds, his thumb rubbing against your clit, his finger hovering above your hole before slowly pushing two in. Your back arched at the feeling of his fingers stretching you out, quiet moans slipping between your sinful lips.

“So wet for me, pretty girl,” he breathed against your neck, his lips sucking the skin until a mark was blossoming. You were a moaning mess beneath the boy, whines of need begging him for more echoing throughout the room.

“Wanna...” you tried to speak, your eyes rolling back as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting just the right spot, “Wanna cum around your cock,” you rushed out, JJ grinding against your thigh and letting out a groan at the words.

“Don’t have a condom,” he cursed at the realization, his fingers continuing to pump, and you quickly shook your head at the words.

“I’m on birth control, please,” your words were fast, but he had heard you loud and clear, his fingers stilling inside of you.

“I’ve never... I’ve never done it without a condom before,” he confessed, his blue-eyes meeting yours. You smiled at the admission. He was reckless, but it was nice to know he wasn’t that reckless.

“Neither have I,” you whispered, leaning your head up to capture his lips in a soft kiss, “But I’ve been told it’s an unforgettable feeling,” his fingers had abandoned your hole by now, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing as he hastily pushed his boxers down his legs and kicked them off the bed.

“Are you 100% sure about this?” His hand wrapped around his member, sliding the pre-cum soaked tip between your folds, a guttural moan ripping through his lips at the feeling. You nodded, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him closer to you.

JJ slowly slipped into you, his eyes shutting as he whimpered a string of curse words at the feeling of your wet cunt wrapping around him.

“Fuck you’re tight,” he moaned, his fingers digging into your hips, sure to leave marks tomorrow, “Always this wet and warm? God damn,” he chuckled softly, absolutely blissed out at the new sensation. He had had sex many times before, but absolutely nothing compared to the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his raw cock.

“Just shut up and fuck me,” your fingernails dug into the skin of his shoulders as he began to move his hips, his name leaving your lips sinfully as you felt every ridge and vein of his cock gliding against your walls.

You were both sweating, your names being chanted between one another like a forbidden song, the feeling of him pounding into your heat almost too overwhelming. Your legs had wrapped around his waist as you ground your hips up into his with every thrust, toes curling at the sensation.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, JJ’s lips assaulting the skin of your chest and breast, leaving marks on every inch he could possibly reach. His hand slipped between the two of you, rubbing at the sensitive bud he knew would send you over the edge.

And it did.

You screamed his name as the pleasure took over, your walls clenching around him as he continued to piston himself into you, riding your high and chasing his. Moments later, he was releasing himself inside of you, his warm essence painting your walls and claiming you as his.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his body collapsing on top of yours gently as you echoed his words. JJ took a moment to collect himself before slowly sliding out of you, his eyes trailing down your figure and landing on the vice between your legs, watching as a mixture of your cum and his leaked out of the fucked out hole. He collected some of the leaking substance in two of his fingers, softly pushing it back inside of you as his jaw clenched at the sight, and you let out a quiet whimper at the feeling.

“We’ll clean up soon,” you muttered, watching him through hooded eyes as you fought off sleep, “Don’t think I can walk right now,” your cheeks were red as you spoke, and JJ took notice of the way both of your legs were slightly shaking. He smirked up at you.

“Maybe I should’ve confessed my love for you a long time ago.”

“Maybe,” you laughed, reaching forward and grabbing his arms, pulling him back down to you.

#JJ Maybank x reader #JJ Maybank imagine #Outer Banks imagines #JJ Maybank Smut

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baoshan-sanren · 4 years ago

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Chapter 26

of the wwx emperor au I’m thinking of calling Lan QiRen’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week oh god it’s only gonna get worse

Wei Ying, courtesy name Wei WuXian, the direct descendent of the Immortal Empress, the Divine Ruler of the Shan Dynasty, the rightful Guardian of the Immortal Mountain, has been standing at the Peach Blossom Pavilion gate for entirely too long.

Arranging the short trip from the Jade Sword Palace to the Peach Blossom Pavilion had taken nearly an hour. Wei WuXian could have flown across the rooftops in a tenth of that time, and already accomplished his task five times over. But the Emperor requires an escort. The Emperor requires five layers of black and gold cloth, which is already proving unbearable in the midday heat. The Emperor requires a heavy gold hair piece, and a fan, and a parasol to protect him from the sun’s glare, servants who will carry the parasol and the excess material of his robe, ten Imperial Guards at the minimum, and four more servants to stand at attention, in the event that the Emperor finds himself in need of them.

Lan Zhan had asked him to use the door. Wei Ying is going to use the door. He is the Divine Ruler of the Shan Dynasty, not some rogue cultivator without a copper in his pocket, begging for favor. He has never been intimidated by Sect Leader Lan, and he is not intimidated today.

He should not care if Lan QiRen hates him. Wei Ying is very much aware that he is already hated by Jin GuangShan, Wen RuoHan, and another half dozen sect leaders. Between the memories of YanLing DaoRen’s tyranny, and his mother’s forbearance so often mistaken for weakness, the hatred of their direct descendent was always an inevitability. Years of unsuccessful assassination attempts have made the animosity pretty difficult to ignore.

But Lan Zhan loves his uncle. And Wei Ying cannot bear the idea of being hated by someone Lan Zhan loves.

“Your Majesty,” Nie MingJue says, “would you prefer to stay out here?”

“No,” Wei Ying says, “I just-- need a moment.”

Nie MingJue nods, and goes back to standing at attention.

There are times that Wei Ying hates being the Emperor.

The Lan Sect Leader has never shown the Emperor an ounce more deference than what is absolutely necessary. In the past six years, he had arrived at the Immortal Mountain City each time he was summoned. He never asked for a single favor, never spoke unless he was addressed, never attended a single outing, event, or a banquet, unless his presence was specifically required. Wei Ying was accustomed to the world in which sect leaders flattered him endlessly to his face, then tried to stab him the moment his back was turned.

He is not accustomed to men like Lan QiRen.

“Make the announcement,” he says.

His palms are sweaty and cold. How stupid, that his hands are freezing, while the rest of him is boiling under the bright, midday sun.

A-Sang’s plan is already in motion. The rumors of the Emperor’s agenda for the day have been carefully spreading through the Immortal Mountain City for the past two hours. They are false rumors, intentionally whispered into the wrong ear by one of A-Sang’s servants. Jiang Cheng will be taking Wei Ying’s place in the Imperial Gardens, pretending to participate in a clandestine meeting. Shijie has already extended a gracious invitation to the Jin Sect leader, Madam Jin, and Jin ZiXuan, an invitation that cannot be declined. Twenty trustworthy members of the Nie Sect have departed for YiLing on the pretense of participating in a night hunt.

All the pieces are falling in their place. All Wei Ying needs to do is speak to Lan QiRen.

The three Lan Sect members are in the courtyard to welcome him, their postures identical.

Wei Ying motions that they should rise. Lan Zhan is wearing a simple set of robes, utterly unadorned, the cloth light and appropriate for the heat of the day. His hair is free of ornaments; it is restrained by a plain, white piece of cloth, matching his robes. In the sunlight, the layers of his hair shift from black to amber, his eyes from brown to liquid gold. His face is soft and open. He looks as if he may smile.

The escort is ordered to remain in the courtyard. A-Sang had decided that their circle of trust cannot extend to the Imperial servants or the Imperial Guards. Even so, Wei Ying had forgotten how small the Peach Blossom Pavilion actually is; even five people in its receiving hall appears to be two too many.

In the past, Lan QiRen had never made use of the Imperial servants placed at his disposal. He is not the only Sect Leader to be wary of unfamiliar help, and Wei Ying had never given the man’s preferences much thought. However, he had assumed that this visit, requiring the presence of both Young Masters, would have incited the man to bring his own. Instead, Lan Zhan and Lan XiChen excuse themselves to perform the task of preparing tea, and any other refreshments that need to be served.

“This is an unexpected pleasure,” Lan QiRen says after all the courtesies have been observed, his voice unfailingly polite, “To what do we owe the honor of Your Majesty’s visit?”

“There is to be a small outing to YiLing this afternoon. I had hoped that the Young Masters would grant me the pleasure of their company.”

“I was not aware that the Emperor was planning on an Imperial Procession through YiLing during the festival,” Lan QiRen says.

“The Emperor is not planing to hold an Imperial Procession,” Wei Ying says, “in fact, the details of this outing must be kept secret. Our intention is to draw out the person responsible for the assassination attempts. Rumors intended to misdirect the assassin and their accomplices have already been spread throughout the court. A trap has been set in the Imperial Gardens. In the view of this, removing the targets of the assassination attempts from the Immortal Mountain seems the preferable course of action.”

Lan QiRen is silent for long moments, his face unreadable.

For the first time, it strikes Wei Ying that the Lan Sect Leader is not a young man. He had been born during YanLing DaoRen’s reign, into a world already rife with chaos. Lan QiRen’s grandfather, Lan XuYun, had been one of the first Sect Leaders to pledge his loyalty to the Immortal Empress.

Lan QiRen is not stupid. The man had understood how the Emperor’s attachment to the Wen in the Immortal City was adversely affecting the Lan Sect long before Wei Ying himself had come to the same conclusion. Lan QiRen had known, and he had said nothing. All these years of suffering resentment and humiliation, he had resolutely refused all assistance offered, without ever showing an ounce of bitterness or ill will towards the Wen Sect, or the Emperor. Instead, he had shouldered the ever-increasing burden with dignity, and then taught both of his nephews to do the same.

Wei Ying does not need this man to like him, but being hated by him no longer feels like an acceptable outcome.

“Sect Leader Nie,” Wei Ying says, “I would like to speak to Sect Leader Lan in private for a moment. Please see if the Young Masters require any assistance with their task.”

Wei Ying will need to make Nie MingJue’s title particularly grand, in order to compensate for sending him to the kitchens to watch tea being brewed. But he must speak to Lan QiRen of sensitive matters, and he must do so now, while he still feels brave enough to do so.

The moment he can be certain that they will not be overheard, Wei Ying takes a deep breath, and dives under, “Sect Leader, I understand that you do not like me, do not trust me, and disapprove of of my continued association with your nephew. I cannot be someone you approve of, and any attempt to meet your expectations will doubtlessly prove to be unproductive and frustrating for both of us. Let us simply acknowledge that you will never see me as being worthy of your nephew, and that in this, at least, we may find a common ground.”

Lan QiRen leans back slightly, his expression registering a hint of surprise.

“Regardless of your disapproval,” Wei Ying says firmly, “I intend to ask Lan WangJi to take his place by my side as the Emperor Consort. I will not list all the reasons why I personally prefer him to every person I have ever met, as I am sure that this conversation would become unbearably uncomfortable for both of us. However, I am very well aware that destiny saw fit to place me into a position of power regardless of my qualifications, and that I have often failed to meet the challenges this position presents. Therefore, you cannot begrudge me the wish to share that seat of power with someone who is infinitely superior in every way.”

“Your Majesty,” Lan QiRen says, his surprise shifting to cool politeness once again, “the Lan Sect is honored by your attention. We serve at the pleasure of the Emperor.”

Wei Ying cannot stand the man’s politeness right now. He would rather have Lan QiRen pull out his sword, and attempt to skewer him to the floor. At least in that, there would be some honesty.

“Sect Leader, we have a small window of time in which we may converse openly. If I must, I will order that you speak plainly, and without hesitation. But I believe no such order is necessary.”

Lan QiRen’s expression hardens, and Wei Ying braces himself for an attack.

“WangJi will never compete for Your Majesty’s attention,” he says coldly, “He is ill-suited to a life of frivolity and stagnation. He will surpass Your Majesty in cultivation, if he has not already done so, and he will never make himself less for Your Majesty’s sake. The petty rivalries and empty flattery of the court will make him wretched. And he is certainly incapable of providing an heir to the throne, which will serve as a continuous reminder that he can be easily replaced. In short, Your Majesty, I am finding it hard to believe that you have thought your decision through with care that it deserves.”

“Lan Zhan will never have to compete for my attention,” Wei Ying says, “It is more likely that the Empire will need to compete with him, and may often find itself on the losing side. I am certain that he has already surpassed me in cultivation; a fact that has only inspired admiration, not resentment. The petty rivalries and empty flattery of the court are inevitable, but he will have the power to deal with them in any way he sees fit. And the throne already has an heir.”

The last bit seems to take Lan QiRen off guard, and he is studies Wei Ying carefully for a few moments, as if unsure what to make of him.

“In the interest of full disclosure, I am not unwilling to share the name of the heir to the throne with the Lan Sect,” Wei Ying says, “However, I do believe that this information should be shared with Lan Zhan first, if he chooses to accept my proposal.”

“If he refuses?” Lan QiRen says.

Wei Ying meets Lan QiRen’s gaze with all the composure he possesses, “Lan Zhan is the best judge of his own happiness. If he refuses, I will respect his decision.”

The silence that follows is not long, but it is the most intolerable silence of Wei Ying’s life.

Just when he thinks he cannot bear it any longer, Lan QiRen nods.

His expression seems to reflect resignation rather than outright approval, but this is an acceptable outcome. Wei Ying wonders if he should offer to let the man stab him once. He is sure this would make Sect Leader Lan much more amenable. It is not an ideal solution, but Wei Ying has been stabbed before, by men a lot less worthy of his respect.

Luckily, the tea is finally ready, so that decision, at least, can be postponed until later.

#the untamed #cql #mdzs #wangxian #ficlet #m #wwx emperor au #poor lan qiren #i think we're finally closer to the end of this fic than the beginning #i would say another 10 chapters at most #ily guys #thanks for putting up with me

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wherethingscomebackx · 5 years ago

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Top 25 Larry fics of 2019

It’s that time again!

You may be familiar with these lists:

Top 25 Larry fics of 2016

Top 25 Larry fics of 2017

Top 25 Larry fics of 2018

As always, I read a lot of fic and the majority of it is Larry. I like making lists and I like Larry so I thought I’d do some minimal research of the top 25 larry fics published/completed in 2019 in order of least to most kudos (with links). All of these fics are top notch so you should all check them out!

25.) Foolishy Laying Our Hearts on the Table by @runaway-train-works (11k)

“You think Harry wants that?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Wanna make him happy.” Harry takes advantage of the red light he’s pulled up to turn and look properly at Louis’ face. He’s not even looking in Harry’s direction though, focused instead on something out of his side window, head drooped, mindlessly playing with the string of his hoodie between his fingers, lost in his own world somewhere. For some reason, it makes Harry’s spine straighten.

“Because he’s your best mate?” Harry questions carefully.

“He’s my boyfriend.”

He couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

Louis releases a deep breath, still not turning around. Harry wonders who he thinks he’s talking to right now. “He’s so pretty. Want to kiss him all day long. And buy him a big house and give him presents and marry him.”

The one where Harry is in love with his best friend Louis but doesn't think he stands a chance until some wisdom teeth and a rather unusual confession might just change his mind.

24.) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices by @toomanydreamers (126k)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

23.) all we can do is keep breathing by @avocadolouie (310k)

“Harry, I-I’m so sorry…” Louis stutters out, trying to keep his voice level and even, to portray a depiction of strength, but with the way Harry is looking at him, staring at him like he has a personal passage way straight to Louis’ soul, it’s so hard, nearly impossible.

That simple opening phrase, that short introductory acknowledgement that is often rushed out so easily, painlessly, at a safe distance. Giving a doctor the ability to portray empathy without true emotion, without feeling the full brunt and sheer force of the underlying pain itself.

But Louis feels it, he feels the crushing agony laced behind the phrase, he feels the weight of the painful words slipping from his lips, the cause and effect that the three-word expression holds. The distantly empty “I’m so sorry” that doctors throw out in self-preservation, isn’t at all empty for him. Louis recognizes it, he understands it, he feels it.

a fated story of two broken and battered boys who barely survived the unimaginable and how the love of one little brave girl defies all the odds and somehow puts them back together.

22.) Raise a Glass to the Four of Us by @2tiedships2 (25k)

Louis stared at his luggage.

Well. Apparently not his luggage, because the clothing he was looking at currently was a: worth more than everything he currently possessed, b: not his size at all, and c: more suited for a fancy ass lawyer than a holiday in NYC with his best mates.

“Ooh, nice loafers,” Niall said as he pulled one out of the suitcase. “I love the rainbows.”

“Okay,” Liam began. “What do you want to do first? Eat, shop for new clothes, or spend hours on the phone with the airline?”

Louis continued to stare at the luggage.

21.) You Have to Retreat to Advance by @2tiedships2 (18k)

“What am I going to do, Perrie? I can’t go on this retreat by myself. My boss literally said he wants to meet my omega.” Harry paused. “Okay, not literally but he definitely expects me to be bringing him.”

“Don’t people go on these things by themselves?” Perrie asked.

Harry shrugged. “Of course but that’s not the point.”

“What’s the point?”

“My boss is expecting to meet my omega! I don’t have an omega!”

“Is this a paying gig?” Perrie asked.

“You mean paying an omega to spend the weekend with me? I’m sure the resort has nice amenities. Does that count?”

“I take that as a no,” Perrie said with an eye roll. “It’s okay, Louis might be willing to do it for free.”

“Who’s Louis?”

Or the one where Harry is expected to bring his longterm omega to the company's mountain retreat. Since he hadn't told anyone that they'd broken up months ago, he now has to find someone willing to play the part.

20.) A Darker Shade of Love by LittleSpoonStyles94 (750k)

Louis is a 30 year old multi-billionaire with a very dark past. He is violent and is a sadist with a taste for pain. Harry Styles is a 19 year old student who sets out to London after being kicked out by his homophobic father to follow his dreams. He wants to go to the best University to study but he needs a lot of money so he starts to work as a part time stripper at a gay club to support his studies and his life. The club he works at, Garland's, is part owned by Louis Tomlinson. When they meet, its life changing for the both of them.

19.) You Still Make Sense to Me by @amories (37k)

Harry, Louis, and their family navigate life together through the years.

18.) Like Water Over Fire (Like Water On Fire) by @mcssymon (119k)

“I’m sorry your highness, I think I misheard you, did you really say that you are hoping to meet your husband?” Oh god, Louis panicked. Was Prince Harry gay? Was he even allowed to be gay? Surely he wouldn’t be allowed to have a selection from a group of men, right?

Prince Harry looked partly like he wanted to laugh, but also very, very nervous about what he had just admitted, “Yes, sir, you heard correctly”

Or Prince Harry has 46 men and 13 weeks to find the husband of his dreams, Louis has a limited amount to time to live out a royal fantasy. They might just be exactly what the other needs.

17.) waiting for the tides to meet by @nauticalleeds (59k)

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

16.) Call Answered by @vondrostes (249k)

The day after his 27th birthday, Harry Styles attempts suicide. Louis is flown to his bedside to unravel the mystery of why he did it after a flash drive is found with a note attached, addressed to Louis. On it are a collection of 78 songs, all written for different dates from their past.

15.) Counterbalance by @louandhazaf (44k)

Harry Styles loves two things: teaching ballet and racing motorcycles. Those two worlds collide when his greatest rival on the track, Louis “Tommo” Tomlinson brings his tiny siblings to Harry’s class.

14.) Everywhere and Nowhere by @2tiedships2 (16k)

Niall took a seat and said, "Apparently Louis' downstairs neighbor is a fan of giving Louis creepy gifts. Maybe I should go introduce myself and tell him that Louis actually prefers food."

"What has he given you?" Liam asked.

Louis shrugged as it were no big deal. "There was a rabbit's foot keychain on the door a little after he left from introducing himself and there was a small teddy bear sitting by my door tonight. Obviously I can't prove it's from him, but they seem to have his scent. I could be wrong though."

"Wow," Liam said, looking deep in thought. "That's old school."

"What's old school?" Niall asked. "Giving creepy gifts?"

"I've never known an alpha to do it, to be honest, but he's courting you."

Louis couldn't contain his look of disbelief directed at Liam. "He's courting me. Like some sort of romantic shit they'd do in the 1800s or something?"

13.) Swallow The Knife by whoknows (76k)

“You came,” Louis says, still breathless, clinging to Harry, uncaring that his sweat is getting all over Harry’s presumably clean dad shirt, or that he’s making Harry hold up all of his weight.

“Of course I came,” Harry says. He shifts, one arm curled underneath Louis’ arse, the other spreading wide in the middle of Louis’ back. “If I ignored you every time you pissed me off we would have stopped being friends a long time ago.”

Louis already knows that, of course. It doesn’t do anything to stop the pleased squirm in his belly every time Harry proves it, though. They fight like nobody’s business, both of them too stubborn to pull their punches when they’re arguing, and it used to get them in trouble, but they always make up.

Adrenaline makes Louis loose-lipped, and they both know it. He tightens his arms around Harry’s neck, buries his face in his hair. “I missed you,” he confesses, quiet. “Doesn’t feel the same up there by myself.”

12.) and oh, all of your saturdays could end up in woe by ihavetoomuchfreetime (70k)

a fic in which louis' in a long-term relationship with an abusive asshole, niall, zayn and liam are so far but not really, and harry is that all too friendly guy who works in sainsbury's.

11.) thinking about the t-shirt you slept in by @absoloutenonsense (52k)

Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

10.) Consequences by @allwaswell16 (78k)

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

An amnesia au

9.) Strawberries & Cigarettes by @dimpled-halo (76k)

Harry looks up and immediately freezes. Next to Ms. Archie stands the boy from just the other day. The boy with the leather jacket and chipped black nails, that might or might not be sketched in the very book Harry has just placed on the table in front of him. The leather jacket is missing today, probably because they aren’t allowed as part of their required uniform attire, but Harry can still see the fading black nail polish on his nails, and eyeliner around his eyes. Harry’s mouth goes a little dry. This boy is so intriguing to him.

“Ye-yes, Ms. Archie?” Harry tries to play it cool, but he’s almost positive that his cheeks are burning red, and he’s relieved neither of them can tell how fast his heart is beating in his chest.

The boy seems to also recognize Harry, because his lips curve into a knowing smirk.

“Harry is at the top of his class. He’s your best bet at getting familiar with things around here.” She explains.

Louis nods, his smirk still very prominent on his face. “Thank you Ms. Archie. I’ll be sure to take advantage of young Harold here.”

Summary: Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

8.) Pain makes people change by Deidei (113k)

An organization called Canis Lupus existed solely for changing humans imprisoned in their wolf form back to their human form. Some people after experiencing some traumatic event can only ‘’protect’’ themselves from the pain by forgetting everything. To do that, to feel safe, they shift into their wolf form.

Which they'll be stuck in forever should no one intervene.

Louis Tomlison went through a traumatic experience at the age of twelve in which he lost his mother, to make the pain go away he shifted into a wolf and fled. He survived in the wild as a wolf for five years until Canis Lupis caught him... Though he wasn't alone, he had a pup at his side.

7.) Pretty Please (With Sugar On Top) by @angelichl (113k)

Harry is a sugar baby omega who cons rich alphas for a living. Louis is a rich alpha with too much self-control.

6.) Enemies with benefits by ssii8 (267k)

Where Harry is captain of basketball team and Louis is captain of football team and they hate each other. But somehow this doesn't stop them from having sex.

And everything is perfect until they start to feel something more.

5.) Ready To Fall by whoknows (21k)

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

4.) Close to Nowhere by @angelichl (34k)

“I will kill you in your sleep,” Louis threatened as he quickly stepped out of his jeans.

“I don’t think that would work very well baby, seeing as you talk to dead people all the time.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep and ignore your ghost. And don’t call me that.”

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

3.) Play Pretend, Find a Friend? by @angelichl (40k)

They had to pull back for air. Louis surveyed the guy’s face, in awe of his blown pupils and sharp jawline, the way their shared spit glistened on his lips.

“Hi,” he breathed. He blinked, and came back to himself a little bit, blushing at his own boldness. “Sorry. Is this okay?”

The stranger removed his right hand from the curve of Louis’ waist in order to cup his jaw, tilting it up to the angle he desired. He pressed their lips together, murmuring, “Definitely.” And then he kissed harder.

When Louis sees his ex-boyfriend kissing a random girl at a party, he acts out of blind jealousy. He kisses the first guy he can find. It turns into a thing.

INSPIRED BY CLOUDS.

2.) Let Me Feel Your Heartbeat by @angelichl (34k)

Harry is 98% sure Louis hates him. So he feels like his bewilderment is justified when the omega offers to help him through his rut.

1.) All My Colours by IceQueenRia (267k)

Green… yellow… red. Red! RED!!!

Some people were born Dominant and others submissive. Sixteen year old Louis Tomlinson was a submissive and was proud to be so… until he was forced to his knees for the first time. The man before him was every subs nightmare, an abusive Dom, the kind who didn’t believe in the colour ‘red’ unless it was in the form of blood.

There were others, but Louis was the ‘favourite’ and he was the one the Dom liked to ‘play with’ the most. In fact, when the rescue team arrived, Louis was the one currently providing ‘service’ to the Dom.

Louis, Zayn and Niall are abused subs. Liam Payne is their devoted new Guidance Counsellor who just wants to make Niall smile and hear Zayn speak. As for Louis, he knows his guidance won’t be enough to help the boy heal. No, Louis Tomlinson needs something very special and very specific. He needs Harry Styles.

#larry #larry stylinson #harry styles #louis tomlinson #fic rec #larry fic rec #one direction #1d #one direction fan fiction #larry fan fiction #larry is real #larry fic #dom/sub fic #alpha/beta/omega verse #1d fan fiction

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etherrealoblivion · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter Nine: Wanna Bet?

Table of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,713

Content Warnings: Risque content. Alcohol. ;;))

MASTERLIST

The man’s name was Benicio “Benny” Sallow. He worked at a seven-eleven near the restaurant. He had seen you and Spencer leave the restaurant, clocked out, and followed you for a few blocks with the intent to steal your purse and his wallet. Apparently, he wasn’t even planning on injuring you, just using the knife as leverage.

So the killer was still out there, presumably keeping very close by, according to Spencer. It took you a while to explain why that didn’t make you feel any better.

The day after the incident, you’d had to go back to Quantico to be briefed. It was getting tiring having to go back and forth all the time. But you supposed it was good to be kept in the loop.

Now, you were confined to your apartment 24/7. Groceries now had to be delivered, Spencer answering the door each time, gun in hand, exchanging a verbal password with the delivery person.

Sure, it was safer, but the danger felt even more real now. Luckily, your protector was taking extreme measures to keep you distracted.

“Now throw it!” he shouted, prompting you to chuck the pillow towards the empty trash can, now on the third round of a game Spencer had dubbed “pillowball”.

It landed just shy of the basket and you groaned as Spencer laughed.

“Oh, I’d like to see you do better, glasses,” you teased, shoving him another pillow.

“I don’t even wear glasses anymore!”

“Just throw the pillow, dork.”

He reared back, squinting, looking all around. You had to stifle a laugh as you pictured little mathematical equations floating through the air around his head.

And he threw the pillow, soaring through the air towards the basket and . . .

. . . landed on a shelf just above the basket, knocking over a broom.

“Ha!” you jumped on the couch, jostling the broom. “Might wanna get your eyes checked again.”

“Sure about that?” he said, a little too cocky.

Your face fell, looking at the pillow. As you had sat on the couch, you’d made the broom hit the wall, making the shelf move, tipping over a large book that bumped the pillow. It fell forward and landed perfectly in the basket.

Awestruck, you looked at Spencer and he bowed low, shooting you a mischievous look.

“Lucky shot,” you said, forcefully switching your facial expression to an unimpressed one.

“Oh come on!” he whined, sitting across from you on the couch. “That was cool, don’t deny it.”

“There was no way you could’ve known I was gonna sit and knock the broom!”

“Couldn’t I have?”

“No!”

“You know,” he took the pillow from the basket and turned it over in his hands, “jealousy usually manifests itself in denial.”

“Hey! I am not jealous!”

“I mean even though you’re not capable of a shot like that, there’s no reason to be jealous,” he gave you a sidelong glance, slight smile on his lips.

“Not capable?”

“Well, you aren’t!”

“Wanna bet?”

Having to prove him wrong, you snatched up your pillow and went back to the doorway.

“Bet? Y/N, I’m from Vegas. I never lose a bet. You might want to think twice about that challenge.”

“If I don’t make this shot, I’ll watch that five-hour long movie that you won’t stop talking about.”

All of the cockiness was wiped from Spencer’s face.

“You’ll watch Solaris with me?”

“If I fail this shot, I will,” you said, smiling at the fact that he’d added ‘with me’ to the odds.

“What if you make it?”

A wicked smile spread across your face.

“If I make it, we pop open the 20 year Jim Beam I've got in the cabinet.”

Spencer unconsciously glanced at the kitchen cupboard, then shook his head.

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N. Becoming intoxicated could lower inhibitions, making us less aware of—“

“—so you admit it’s a possibility I make the shot?”

He opened his mouth, hesitated, then closed it, shooting you a frustrated look.

You held out your hand for him to shake, knowing he despised handshakes.

“C’mon, Mister Vegas. I thought you never lose a bet?”

His eyebrows twitched but the hint of a smile ghosted over his face.

“Deal,” he said, shaking your hand, only slightly twitching at the contact.

Sparing a quick glance at the ceiling, then the clock, you threw the pillow towards the basket, but it missed, landing just to the right on the arm of the couch.

Spencer beamed.

“Oh, well. I hope your study for that linguistics doctorate involves Russian. Great try, but like I said, I never lose.”

You cocked your head.

“Sure about that?”

A whirring noise caught his attention, turning towards the air vent right over the bedroom door. The gust caught the pillow and pushed it forward, making it land right in the basket. Spencer’s jaw dropped.

“Landlord always clicks on the A.C. at 8:25 on the dot.”

As you bragged, you walked over to the kitchen cabinet, standing on your toes to reach the bottle of bourbon and bringing it back to the couch where Spencer sat.

“How . . .”

“Face it, Vegas, you lost. Now, drink up!”

You took a swig from the bottle and handed it to him.

“We really shouldn’t—“

“Spencer.” All joking gone from your tone, you stared at him, silently begging. “Please. I need to feel . . . something else.”

Waiting a moment to speak, presumably going through possible outcomes and scenarios in his head, he finally sighed and took the bottle from you, pressing it to his lips and drinking.

As expected though, he proceeded to cough heavily, handing the bottle back to you.

“Jeez! You made it look so easy.”

You laughed, taking another drink.

“Years of practice.”

“Years?”

Shit. He definitely knew you weren’t that far from drinking age, making the word years rather compromising.

“Not years per se.”

“Uh-huh,” he said sarcastically, taking the bottle from you and downing the smallest sip so as not to cough. “You know, alcohol might actually help you get through Solaris. If we’re going to be living together for a while I will make you watch it.”

You paused, trying to clock what he meant by ‘living together’.

“I am not watching that movie willingly. How ‘bout double or nothing?”

Intrigued, he watched you carefully, moving to sit on his legs.

“Go on. . . .”

You smiled, getting more comfortable on the couch.

“I’m gonna make an assumption, and if it’s true, you drink. If it’s not, I drink.”

“Is that a Game of Thrones reference?”

Shocked, you nodded.

“Doctor Reid, I’m surprised.” Then, thinking about his love for Doctor Who, Doyle, and strange sci-fi films like Solaris, you figured you should have seen this coming. “Actually, not all that surprised. So yes! It is a Game of Thrones reference and I’m gonna wipe the floor with you.”

“I think you’re forgetting, I’m an FBI profiler. It’s my job to read people.”

“So you accept my challenge?” You jumped up, grabbed two glasses, and sat back down, pouring the bourbon into each glass evenly, handing one to Spencer.

After thinking a moment, he took the glass and said, “I do. Provided I get to go first.”

You nodded, gesturing for him to go.

“You . . . have a complicated relationship with your parents.”

Scoffing, you said, “Seriously? Everyone has a complicated relationship with their parents! Thought you were a big shot profiler.” And you took a small sip.

“I’m starting off easy,” he said, reclining a bit more and stretching out his legs towards you. “Your go.”

“You . . . you were bullied in high school.”

He shrugged and took a drink.

“You don’t join the FBI without some childhood trauma,” he said it so casually but there was something more in his tone that he couldn’t hide. That no one could.

“My turn,” he said, pulling you away from your thoughts. Right. That was the goal of all this. Distraction.

“Go,” you said, sitting up and moving a bit closer.

“So,” he said, gazing around your apartment and swirling the liquid in his glass, “there’s no photographs in your apartment, at least none that I’ve seen. But you’re not unsentimental judging by your attachment to the locket that was stolen from you. So you just don’t have any photographs to hang up.”

“I’m not hearing an assumption, Doctor.”

“You don’t have a lot of friends. Probably only a few close ones that you rarely get to see.”

Normally, if someone commented on your lack of friends, you’d lash out and walk away, probably calling them various unkind names. But when Spencer said it, there wasn’t any judgment. Only sympathy. Like he knew exactly what not having a lot of friends felt like.

It was true, you didn’t have a lot of friends. The only person you really considered to be a friend was Steve, and you hadn’t spoken to him in weeks. You wondered if he was worried about you suddenly cutting off contact, staying home from school and work. You wondered if he even noticed.

So you took a sip, smiling sadly at Spencer. And he smiled back. Neither of you had to say anything else about it.

“Alright, get ready to get drunk.”

He snorted at you, alcohol starting to affect him.

“Guess away, I’m an open book.”

“You, Spencer Reid,” he laughed a little when you said his name, dropping his head to the back of the couch. “You . . . cannot handle your alcohol.”

He giggled, raising his glass to his lips but you stopped him.

“Ah! That wasn’t my assumption. I was just making an astute observation. Now, as I was saying. My assumption is . . . you are a virgin.”

He was struck, clearly not expecting such a personal guess. You waited for him to drink, but instead he just stared at you. Then, he blushed, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck, still not making any move to drink.

Aw. Maybe you’d crossed a line. Maybe he was embarrassed by the fact that—

Wait.

He still wasn’t drinking, just looking at you sheepishly, like he was waiting for something.

Waiting for you to drink.

So you did, keeping eye-contact with him the whole time, watching as he fidgeted nervously.

Your assumption had been wrong. Interesting.

A/N: ;)

@aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13 @yourmisosoup @queenofthebees003 @pinkdiamond1016 @eu-solidao

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #spencer reid x reader #reader insert

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beholdme · 4 years ago

Text

All the Many Shades of Gerry - Chapter 3

Chapters: 3/19

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist

Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gerard Keay, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Gertrude Robinson, Elias Bouchard

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Library AU, Librarian Jon, Artist Gerry, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Canon Asexual Character, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Ace Subtype - Sex Positive, Polyamory, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Romantic Fluff, Falling In Love, Boys in Skirts, Kissing, Demisexual Gerard Keay, Minor Character Death, Past Character Death, Canon-Typical Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Flirting, Minor Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Adventures in Hair Dying, Happy Ending, Banter, Gerry has a lot of sass, Gerard Keay is Morticia Adams, Jon is a very grumpy Librarian, Martin adores them anyway.

Summary: In which Gerry is a kaleidoscope and Jon and Martin can't help falling in love with him.

He happens to love them back.

Find it on Ao3

[1] [2]

In the following weeks, as he sees Jon a few more times, Gerry's hair fades out and he looks rather more 'forest nymph' than 'American Gothic'.

So it's not much of a shock when the next time Jon catches sight of Gerry striding through the library stacks, his hair has been re-coloured. This time it's a smooth buttery yellow and Jon is struck by how young the warm, bright colour makes him look.

Gerry doesn't feel young though, he feels tired and bored and wrung out, and he wishes he had never agreed to take art commissions.

"It's only the one time!" Gertrude had insisted to a very put upon Gerry, very early in the morning. "And if he puts in a good word for you in his circles, your name will really be on the map in the art world."

Gerry wasn't particularly interested in being put on any maps, or being picked apart by rich, stuck up strangers, but he had agreed to try, mostly because Gertrude had put a lot of effort into making his passion for art an actual career and he felt like he owed her.

(He forgets, frequently, just how much of a commission she takes on the sales of his paintings).

So there he was, striding around the library at 7 am and desperately looking for exactly the right reference book. Unfortunately, it has been out of print for years, and Gerry can't seem to find a copy anywhere that won't cost him half a liver. He has the money now, but he refuses to pay half a month's rent to a second-hand retailer on principle.

Jon watches him skulk around for so long, (apparently forgetting that he is, in fact, a librarian) that Sasha comes out from her desk to ask Gerry if he's looking for something specific. She's wearing her big round glasses today and even indulged herself in her favorite waistcoat to beat the Monday blues.

"Why, yes." At this, Gerry looks directly up at Jon, where he is standing and watching him from the upper balcony level. Jon's face burns, and he ducks out of sight, but not earshot. "I do actually come here to borrow books, not boys." And he smartly feeds her the name of the reference book he has been hunting for almost an hour.

Sasha giggles at his antics, "We do have a copy of that, actually, but it's very popular. There's a waitlist; also it's checked out right now."

Gerry's whole demeanor sags and he sighs in defeat. "Guess I really will just have to order it off the internet, then." He eyes the stacks of books, old and new, looking vaguely betrayed.

"No!" Sasha's exclamation takes everyone a bit aback, being that they are in a library and all. "You know, my mate has this sweet little bookstore, and he loves hunting down rare copies of older books, he might have a copy?" She wrings her hands, eyebrows raised in question.

Gerry beams down at her, causing even stoic Sasha to blush and scurry off to get a piece of paper for the address.

They're already most of the way to the front desk by the time Jon realizes just which bookstore Sasha is busy recommending to the man he is dating , and just who owns that particular establishment.

By the time he manages to get downstairs to try to deflect the situation, Gerry is out the door, nothing left but the faint scent of oil paints and leather from his jacket.

***

Tim Stoker leaves Gerry feeling faintly dazed. By the time he stumbles out of the bookstore and into the tea room, elusive book in hand, he's forgotten everything he has ever known in the face of such intense flirting. And Gerry thought he was bad.

Throughout the whole episode at the library, the walk through Chelsea, and the exchange with Tim, Gerry had never once taken a moment to consider that Sasha's friend with a bookstore and Jon's Martin with a bookstore might be the same person.

He chooses to blame the lack of sleep and general disarray that is his life for the oversight.

Which is how, 9:30 in the morning, having been awake for almost 24 hours and completely finished, Gerry walks up to Martin in his tea room and says, "I'll have whatever is pink and in that jug, please. The biggest you've got."

Martin, of course, recognized him immediately. He would have recognized Jon's gothic childhood boyfriend from his social media stalking alone, but Jon's frantic texting was also a pretty big giveaway.

Martin: Relax, I don't bite clients this early in the morning. He's in safe hands with me.

Jon: HE KNOWS THINGS ABOUT ME. Besides, who's gonna stop him from biting you?

Martin: Whatever he has to tell me can’t possibly be worse than the office gossip I heard about you before we even meet.

Jon: W H A T

Now, here Gerry is before him, and he’s quite pleased with what he sees. Even tired and vaguely dazed, his presence in the little room carries a certain energy that Martin enjoys.

"Right away. Take a seat and I'll call you with it." Martin's voice is sweet, but gentle and firm, in a comforting sort of way. Through Gerry's sleepy haze, the instruction makes perfect sense, although he has neither paid nor offered a call name.

Gerry considers taking a seat on the plush bench that occupies one wall, before deciding that he desperately needs a cigarette, and wandering outside.

Technically he is only supposed to smoke at night when he's painting and needs just the right kind of boost, but he decides to call this one since he's on a painting-based errand when he's supposed to be sleeping.

"Gerry?" He turns toward the sound of his name, to find the barista offering him a large to-go cup of what he assumes is fruit ice tea. He frowns at having his name known (his new, much-preferred name, no less) and then frowns at a blonde, bespectacled man in a tea room attached to a bookstore.

His brain finally takes a moment to function, and he puts all the pieces together in an avalanche.

"Martin?" Far from his usual self-confident tone, the single word comes out in a squeak that would make even a toddler wince.

"Yes?" Martin returns the single word in the same solidly reassuring way, and even offers a happy smile.

"I didn't... I didn't recognize you."

"Would be pretty hard for you, considering this is the first we've ever met." Martin's voice is calming in a way that eases Gerry a bit, teasing and all.

"Thank you. For the tea, I mean." Gerry closes his eyes and desperately begs his shit to pull together for him, just this one time. "It's nice to finally meet you."

His hands are fully occupied with a book, a cup of tea, and a cigarette, but Martin doesn't seem particularly bothered by the lack of a hand to shake. "It's nice to meet you too. We're giving Jon a heart attack by doing it without him."

"That is the lawful good," Gerry says, after a long drag of his smoke. "A panicked Jon is a happy Jon, after all. Whatever would he do with himself without a situation to unnecessarily complicate?"

"Yes, the man does seem to thrive on anxiety, doesn't he?" Martin asks warmly, eyes crinkling around a fond smile. "Speaking of, you seem pretty wrecked yourself. Good party, I hope."

Gerry's answering laugh has a razor edge, "Not hardly. This fucking painting I'm working on will be the death of me." Gerry lifts the reference book as proof of trauma and stabs out his cigarette viciously.

"Hmm, sounds like a pain. I hope you typically find art a more enjoyable career?" Martin asks, tilting his head inquisitively. His curly hair moves fetchingly and Gerry catches himself tracking the movement.

"Mostly, yes. Although I keep the bartending gig for variety. You'd be amazed at the sort of inspiration someone can find in the right drunk crowd." Gerry grins, thinking of all the ridiculous things he’d seen walk in and out of the bar in his run there.

"I'd be very interested to see what kind of art you can turn that into. Maybe you'd like to show me sometime?" Martin's words are open and friendly.

Gerry eyes him for a minute, hiding behind a long taste of his drink. He's trying to suss out Martin's motivations, for his kindness and general geniality. The drink is good and it tips Gerry's mood far enough back into cheerfulness that he shrugs off his considerations for the time being.

"You know what," Gerry quips back. "I think I would like to show you sometime. How 'bout tonight."

It's not a question really, with Gerry's typical force of personality behind it, and he leaves the shop with Martin holding an address in his hand and a time to drag Jon over for dinner that evening.

***

Gerry does not make a big deal of Martin coming over. He acts as if any other friend is coming over for dinner.

He tidies, a little. Lights a few candles. Wears pants. The bare minimum really.

He isn't trying to impress anyone, he tells himself sternly.

Except he is, obviously. He doesn't know Martin very well yet, but he does want to keep Jon around, and they are a packaged deal these days. Which he was happy with, truly.

In their limited interaction, Martin had been sweet and put Gerry instantly at ease. He knows, from many years of working a bar, how to spot a dipshit, and feels confident in his assessment of Martin's character.

But, it's his own character that concerns him. People don't always like Gerry past surface interactions. He can be tempestuous and moody, and catching him tired is a pretty bad idea. The combination of artist and mommy issues can be jarring.

He desperately wants those things to not bother Martin though. He wants Martin to like him, and he's not interested in putting on a show to make it happen.

It occurs to Gerry an hour before they're due that he doesn't even remotely know what takeout to order for dinner.

(He knows what Jon will eat, and he obviously knows what he likes, but what about Martin? Why didn't he ask this morning? Why didn't he ask Jon earlier?)

Gerry is just starting to really panic about all the life choices leading up to this moment, when he gets a text from an unknown number, instantly filling him with relief.

Martin: Since you're hosting this time, I'll grab the take-out. Jon says you like Thai, I'll bring that. You got the drinks covered?

Gerry: As long as you drink either coffee, vodka, or water, yes.

Martin: I'm sorry, I subsist only on the blood of virgins.

Gerry: Oh dear. I couldn't tempt you to settle for Earl Grey?

Martin: Hmmm, yes, I'll accept your offerings this time.

***

The first knock comes right on time. Gerry, dressed in his best paint-stained jeans and cherry blossom kimono, opens the door with a flourish.

Martin allows himself to be welcomed in and hands the food off to the dramatic artist, who deposits it on the table where he has already set the tea tray.

"No Jon? Not that I mind quality ‘us’ time, of course."

Martin is busy taking in the rambling studio space and barely spares the attention to respond, although he manages a blush at the flirty tone. "He's, uh, running late. Work stuff. You know Jon."

Gerry smirks at that. "I do indeed. Is it a 'stumble in at 3am' late, or 'we could probably wait to eat' late?"

"Hmmm? Oh, let's wait a bit? If you don't mind." Martin seems equally taken with his painting wall and his book wall and keeps trading his attention between the two. The paintings, being the larger attraction, eventually win, and he meanders over to study them closer.

"Do you keep all the completed paintings around?" His voice is soft and reverent, and Gerry feels a rush of pride for his work.

"For a while. I like to make sure they're in their final forms before I release them into the wild." Martin blinks big brown eyes at him, before grinning and giggling slightly.

"You're very talented. Jon said as much, showed me the pictures, but words and photos are nothing compared to seeing the real thing." Martin really regards his paintings as if they're special, and rather than the prickly feeling of appraisal he feels during gallery nights, it fills Gerry with warmth.

He turns to examine the wall himself. It's filled with an eclectic group at the moment. Large abstracts made by pouring paint and then layering designs over, three-dimensional pieces painted and then embroidered or quilled over in select places, including a particularly wild eye design. Surreal faces and scenes that seem realistic except for the wild subject matter of planets in meadows and chimeras going to battle.

"Is this what comes from your adventures in bartending?" Martin asks Gerry, turning from the wall and towards the slightly taller man.

"That, and my traumatic childhood." Gerry makes sure to laugh at the last, taking the edge off the small confession.

"Obviously." Martin offers.

"Obviously." Gerry accepts.

***

Gerry and Martin drink tea on the floor while they wait for Jon. Gerry gently prods Martin through the story of how he came to open the bookstore. The blonde man even softly confessing that he had to lie on his CV to get the librarian gig at Magnus.

"How old are you? How did you convince them you had a Master's degree?" Gerry is incredulous. Not that he doesn't think Martin could have an advanced degree. But in paranormal research? Gerry hadn't even known that was an option.

"That's the thing! I'm only 29 now . I worked there for five years!" Martin's voice pitches up in disbelief. "I'm still in shock that anyone ever brought it. Desperate times, desperate measures, you know?"

"I do, actually." Gerry shifts slightly, adjusting his balance with the long remembered urge to flee from those desperate times. He fiddles with his teacup to distract himself. He brought this particular set from a pawn shop because the filigree and florals appealed to his love of colour theory. Soft pinks and corals warm against the cool aqua background.

"Jon says you wanted to go to art school when you two were younger."

It's not a question, but merely Martin offering the same space for openness that Gerry had given him.

"I never went. After my A-levels, I had to get away, and I never really stopped moving for long enough to go to uni when I was younger. Now I'm settled and it's not important to me anymore. Besides, no one asks for a copy of my phantom degree when I sell a painting. So I'm happy with how things turned out for the most part." He stops to consider the outline of a possible past for a moment, one where he didn't have to skip college and go ten years without seeing Jon. "Besides, can you imagine a 27-year-old in art school? The young ones would sacrifice me for more creative talent."

Their eyes meet for a moment, and then they laugh easily and move on to different topics, sliding through the easy stages of getting to know each other.

***

Jon does eventually arrive, looking panicked and harried. He de-ages 10 years when he finds them laughing and relaxed instead of tense and awkward.

So, the three of them eat cold Thai take out on the floor of Gerry's loft, leaning against the perfectly good couch. They share the odd intimacy of people who have known each other for very disjointed amounts of time but like each other just the same.

#the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gerry keay #jongerrymartin #tma #fic #also on ao3

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ldrmas · 4 years ago

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OctoLolli Full Story

~~ This is based on https://www.instagram.com/p/CB_9reanS0H/ & https://www.instagram.com/p/CDC_IH5nLpg/ by Ordinary__Art , please go check out her art!! All her art! SHES NOW ON TWITTER TOO AH I’M SO EXCITED!!

This is the full story from the part 1 post. The part 1 was just a tease but this is the full story!

Btw OctoLolli is Remus and Logan, aka Intrulogical just so you all know!

This will also mention Patton, Janus, etc. Remember I’m really bad at writing Remus so if he is a little oc I’m very sorry! I have no beta as well so if there are mistakes I apologize for those as well.

Also Tagglist: @decadentscissorsapricotdeputy Warnings for Swearing from Remus and Presmut attraction and activities!

Logan could admit that he was becoming a hypocrite. He was getting on Thomas’s case anytime he had a chance to about sleeping in a perfect sleep schedule. And it had been that he would follow the same schedule, but lately that was not the case. After Janus had took his seat at the table, Thomas had been slightly more selfish. He had even admitted to his followers that he was finally taking a break.

Logan would never tell anyone, but he had been the one side who had been there to witness Janus’s break down dance in victory after Thomas made the announcement. It had made Logan begin to think. If Thomas could take a break for himself then Logan could be a little less strict. As long as Thomas was getting 7 hours of sleep like a grown adult should, then that was all that mattered. If seven hours were achieved then Logan was alright. He wouldn’t bother Thomas unless he deeply needed to step in and remind Thomas to sleep. That wasn’t the same for Logan. It didn’t just happen one night. It happened gradually.

He stayed up later and later and then it became that he would stay up for 24 hrs at a time. Being just a side, an imagined figment, he did not actually need to sleep. The sides slept so to perform at the best of their abilities. Not sleeping hadn’t hindered Logan yet so for now he would continue to perform his tasks until all the work was completed. But he didn’t always work in his room. It wasn’t his rooms fault. He couldn’t exactly blame his room which had been programmed by him. His room would in a way shut down at 8 every night. When he had been on a sleep schedule in the past, he had wanted it that way. But now not so much. He started working in the Mind Palace Common area, specifically at the table that was just outside the kitchen. He would only have a few lights on so he could see his screen but not bring notice that he was working in the room. The other sides usually were asleep when he was out there working, so he was never concerned about being found out. Then one night an interaction occurred that Logan didn’t quite suspect would happen. The light sides and dark sides rooms were in two different parts of the MindScape. The Mind Palace usually looked Thomas’s apartment since it was the space they all basically knew by heart and could recreate without any trouble. Up the staircase was where one would find the “light” sides bedrooms. Janus’s room had just been recently added after the events of their latest video and though the others had been surprised, Logan hadn’t really been. Janus and Patton needed to start working together so that if Thomas came against another mature problem then they could confront it as a team instead of sending Thomas into another mental health breakdown. They couldn’t exactly learn to work together and start to get along better if Janus was still living and staying in the “dark” side. Logan didn’t like labeling them like they always had. Not one of the sides could be put in either category of light or dark. They were all just a part of Thomas and were doing the jobs given to them. No more no less. There was a “hidden” door attached to the stairs that led down to the “dark” side common space. The only thing about the dark sides space was that they didn’t have a kitchen. The only kitchen was in the light space. So both sides had to share the kitchen. Logan shouldn’t have been surprised that eventually he would meet one of the dark sides during his nightly escapades. Logan had taken a second to stretch and rub at his neck. The room was so quiet without his loud typing. It was in that moment that Remus slammed open the dark side door and stormed into the kitchen. In the second Remus had opened the fridge, the light of the appliance shined upon him and Logan was able to catch a glimpse of his outfit. His mouth immediately went dry and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Remus was in a simple suite jacket and pants. The jacket was nightshade of black with mother of pearl lapels. The undershirt was Remus’s signature green color but instead of looking bad with the other parts of the suit it just added the perfect amount of color the creativity side needed to make the outfit look drop dead perfect. Logan was also able to see just a quick look at Remus’s face. He had on what appeared to be a very light shade of blush on the high of his cheeks and his hair was slightly curled as well. If Logan had to guess he would dare even say that it looked like Remus’s mustache had been groomed as well.

The dark side slammed the kitchen fridge door shut and started chugging the bottle of water he had grabbed. He must have been somewhat pissed to have grabbed a normal substance instead of the usual stuff Remus consumed. He still had yet to notice Logan was watching his every move. Usually Logan would have wanted to keep it that way. Remus would eventually go back down the stairs and Logan could resume his work. It appeared though that wasn’t something Logan had wanted. He was curious of why Remus was dressed this way and he wanted-no needed to know more about what was going on. So as Remus left the kitchen to go back downstairs, he was just about to grab the door, Logan spoke up.

“Remus?” “MO----ER F----KER, J----US SH-T ON A M---THER F—KING CRACKER!” Remus screamed and Logan held back a chuckle as the light side common place had took the liberty to bleep out Remus’s curse words. That was no doubt Patton’s doing. Remus turned on the lights and faced Logan, looking at him in complete disbelief. “What the f---king h-ll, Logic! You are g-d da-n lucky I didn’t have my mother f--king morningstar or I would have clobbered you to death! Je—s, why am I’m getting bleeped! What I’m saying isn’t as strong because of it!” Remus growled as he looked to the ceiling, as if that was the whole reason he was getting bleeped. “Why the h-ll are you sitting there in the dark?” “I’m working.” Logan answered simply as he gestured to his laptop. He closed it knowing that now he had Remus’s attention he wouldn’t be doing work for a while. Remus moved to the table and sat across from him chugging the water once more. Once he was done with that, he struck the water down upon the table, he leveled Logan with a glare. He wasn’t happy about Logic scaring him. He was usually the one to terrify the other sides. “You’re working out here why exactly?” “Do I get to ask a question if I answer yours?” “Like what we play 20 questions or something?” Remus chuckled as he swirled around the water in the bottle as if it was a fine wine. “I just don’t believe it would be justifiable if I answer and then you just leave me hanging.” Logan replied with a slight shrug. It was reasonable. Janus and Remus were known for not giving answers if they didn’t want to. “Fair enough. I’ll answer all your questions as long as you answer mine.” “You know me, Remus, I could never leave a question unanswered.” Logan answered as an agreement which brought a chuckle from the dark creativity side. “Yeah Yeah, Pocket Protector, now I believe you haven’t answered my question yet?” Remus commented as he waved his hand over his water bottle which magically refilled it. He took another sip from it never losing eyesight with Logan. “Oh yes, of course, I’m working out here because my room basically shuts down at 8 o’ clock every night.” “Shut down?” “Yes, the lights turn off and my power outlets don’t work. You know what I say no electronics 30 minutes before bed, so my room does that. But there is work to be done so I work out here now.” “Okaaaaaaaaaayy….” Remus drew out the word as he took a second to think about what exactly the Logical side was saying to him.

“So you work out here and let me see it’s…” Remus used a tentacle that appeared from his back to move his suit sleeve back. He looked down to a watch that probably just materialized on his wrist to make his point. “…It’s 5 am and how many days have you been out here working all night long?” “I’ve been doing this since the wedding video.” Logan replied truthfully, though he looked away for he realized how bad that sounded. “That’s what I thought. Yoink!” Remus had actually said the word “yoink” out loud and it was then that Logan realized that one of Remus’s tentacles had wrapped around his laptop, sliding it toward the mustached man. Logan was too late to stop it from happening. One moment the laptop was wrapped in octopus tentacles and the next it disappeared in thin air. “Hey! Remus!” Logan shouted, nearly shooting up from his chair. “Remus, give that back right this moment!” “Nope.” Remus smacked his lips to emphasize the ‘p’. Logan glared deadly at him and held out his hand in demand for his laptop back. Remus only smirked. “Relax, nerdy wolverine. It’s in a safe place in my room. In the next 24 hrs if you sleep for a full 7 hours then you’ll get it back.” Remus explained as he admired one of his several tentacles as if it was a hand of nails. “And how exactly will you know that I have slept for that time?” “I have my ways.” The dark creativity side chuckled ominously as his eyes meet the Logical’s side. Logan shuddered either in fear or in curiosity, he couldn’t exactly tell in the moment. Did he really want to know how Remus would know that he slept? Most likely not. “Alright. I’m not happy about this but there is nothing I can do at this point to change it. Now I believe since you have gotten to ask your questions it is my turn. Why are you dressed as such?” “Heh. Well it’s story-time…” Remus paused with a smirk to let the joke linger. Logan suppressed his own small smile. He had always wanted to hear what “story-time” would sound like from the intrusive thoughts being. “…Anyway so you remember that post Thommy-salamony posted on Instagram the other day?” “The Spotify one with the flower crown, yes.” Logan recalled with an agreeing nod.

“Yep, that’s the one. Anyway, Janus and I were talking about it today. Annnnd long story short you would think with how long I’ve been in creation I would have learned by now that I can’t beat Janus in any bet. Since I haven’t learned it yet, I lost the bet and now I gotta wear this monkey suit for another six hours.” Remus explained once he glanced at the watch on his human wrist once again. “I have been in this for so long that Janus has taken one million and one pictures of me on his phone and if I had to deal with him for one more second I would have done several unpleasant things to him. I came up here to get a f—cking break.” “I understand if this may be rude to say but may I too take a picture of you?” Logan took a chance to ask but wasn’t surprised when Remus growled at him.

“No, you may f—king not! I’ll tell Janus that you want some of his pics, I’m sure our snake-boi will share them.” Logan nodded knowing that was reasonable. Remus was probably on his last straw and the logical side didn’t wish to further anger the manifestation being of dark creativity. Remus laid out on the table with a deep sigh.

Logan could now see just how weary the green colored side seemed and he felt sorry for him.

“Well, despite you hating your attire, I am grateful that you came up here and I have gotten this chance to see you. You say your clothes are a monkey suit, but I must say you wear this suit quite beautifully. It compliments you very well.” Logic went on to say as he leaned back in his seat but didn’t look away from Remus. One could even say he was gazing at Remus as if he was in a trance of sorts. It was almost as if he was trying to take several mental snap shots of Remus to save for himself. It also could have been that he was trying to take in as much detail of Remus’s outfit as quickly as he could in fear that he would never see it again. Remus too was gazing at the navy colored side but for different reasons. “Back up there, Teach, did you…did you just call me …beautiful?” Remus asked nervously as if he was fearful that he had misheard Logan to begin with. Logan coughed into his fist, and since the intrusive thoughts had turned on the lights, they were both able to see the red start to spread across his cheeks. “I did, though I believe I said you are wearing the suit beautifully, which yes means you are beautiful in the suit.” “What the f—ck is that suppose to mean?” Remus asked wanting Logan to explain further on what he was saying. “Well…what I mean is…” Logan started as the blush now was fully engulfing his face. He also looked away from Remus so that he may gather his thoughts.

“…Your regular outfit suits you quite favorably as well, but your current outfit is, I must admit, quite surprising. In a superb way, I mean. I must say that you look so elegant in a way that I frankly never considered that you could….” Logan paused as he too came to the same realization of Remus. He now understood how what he was saying sounded. His blush deepened.

“Ap-Apologizes, Remus. I-I don’t quite understand where that came from… I think…Please, excuse me.” Logan tried to get up from his seat to escape but Remus was faster. His tentacles had swiftly wrapped around the logical side securing him to the chair. Remus wouldn’t allow him to leave that easily. Though it wasn’t as if Logan struggled against the octopi appendages. Logic knew he would not be able to get away from Remus’s hold.

He only gulped audibly as Remus came around the table and sat upon it right in front of the teacher like side. The intrusive thoughts being perched upon the table yet leaned forward cupping Logan’s jaw affectionately in his palm.

“Remus…”

“Oh, Lolo, I finally understand. You, Mr. Logic, are Thomas’s suit kink.” “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, come on Lollipop,” Remus laughed as he leaned back on the table. “You of all sides understand what my job as “Dark Creativity” is composed of. Intrusive Thoughts, nightmares, blasphemous thinking, etc etc. And we can’t forgot the juiciest of all?” “Sexual Desires.”

“Very good, Smart Heart Bear! Anyhow, sexual desires includes sexy kinks, fetishes, and or fantasies. I know all of Thomas’s kinks from A to Z. I mean let’s be honest my brother is a f—king deer in the headlights once romance gets to the R-rated scenes. I mean sure RowRow can sweep any partner off their feet but once we to the bedroom, then it’s me time!” “Now so back what to I was saying, kinks! There have always been one or two I couldn’t for the life of me figure out, but I had found where most of them had come from. Oh, do you want to know what Patton’s is?” “Not particularly.”

“Sure you do! Patton’s is baking sex. Or sex in the kitchen. Or whatever he wants to call it. Your Happy Pappy has some pretty nasty thoughts when it comes to cooking twine, let me tell ya.” Remus snickered while Logan suppressed a shudder as he even considered what scenarios that thought could lead to.

“But anyway, like I said, I could see where most of them had come from, but I never had yours. I’m so stupid, I should have seen it. You are turned on by men in full suits. This outfit is turning you on. How did I not see that the man that is always in a tie was my connection to Thomas’s suit fetish? It’s so boringly oblivious now that I see how flushed you are in front of me.” Remus observed while reaching with one of his tentacles to start undoing his cuff links. Logan watched like a man possessed as the cuff links came off and the sleeves wrists unbuttoned. His mouth dried as the sleeves were slowly rolled up by Remus’s elegant fingers. Once both sleeves were comfortably up on Remus’s arms, he also took a second to run his right hand through his curled locks. The simple act turned the tips of Logan’s ears red.

The Intrusive Thoughts side never looked as hawt as he did just then, and Logan would have probably given anything in that moment to freeze time, so that he may enjoy the sight for as long as he wished.

“Holy sh-t, you really are turned on! Heh, must suck to be attracted to the bad guy, huh Logic?” And just like that Logan was snapped out of his distressed state and sat up straight in the chair. The lust that he had once felt was gone and now he wished he had just one arm free. He wanted to reach out to Remus desperately. “Remus…I know this won’t sound as if I’m being sincere because you will think I’m just saying this because of your clothes but I’m still going to say it.”

“Remus, I never once thought of you as the villain.” Logan took the moment to make sure the green colored side was seriously looking at him.

“You are not a bad guy, Remus. You did your job as a side nothing more nothing less. You can’t help that you were dealt the dreadful cards but just because you were, it does not in any way make you evil. Or the villain or the antihero.” “Or even a dark sid-“ Logan gasped loudly as the tentacle suddenly released him and he was roughly pulled forward. A hand had wrapped around his tie and jerked him towards the table, nearly causing him to fall off his chair.

More than that, his gasp was silenced as lips fell upon his in a deep bruising kiss. It was a surprise and just for a moment something within Logan yelled at him to pull away, yet he quickly dismissed such a thought. Instead he leaned into the action and once he got his bearings returned the passion that Remus was sharing with him. It was only when he placed his hand on Remus’s cheek that he realized the other was crying. “Shut up.” Remus wept once the two finally separated but Remus didn’t let go of the tie. He held onto it in a death grip. “You gotta shut up! You-you can’t say things like that when your looking so f--kable, Lo.”

“No.” Logan replied once he was able to catch his breath.

“I won’t stop saying it. You need to know what I think! You need to know that even without the suit, I have always thought you were beautiful. That I secretly have had a small crush on you.” Logan admitted as he tried to turn his head away. Remus stopped him by grabbing his jaw once again. “F—k, Logan.” Remus whispered then brought their lips together again for another kiss. This one just as passionate as the first but was shorter. Remus smirked at the whimper Logan let out once he had pulled away. “Me too. I was mad crushing on you for so long, Apple Watch.” Logic chuckled at the nickname, knowing there was no meanness behind the words. They sat there in silence just holding onto one another. If there was certainly a moment that Logan wanted to last for eternity, then it would have been this one. The two of them in each other’s embrace letting their feelings be shared by touch alone. “This sucks.” Remus finally groaned as he nuzzled his forehead against the blue colored side’s. “What do you mean?” “I want to f—k you so bad right now. I want to make love to you for so long that you wouldn’t even be able to get up if Thomas called for you.” Remus pressed his lips to Logan’s once more and though he made sure to make it last longer than the second time, he still pulled away too soon for Logic’s liking. “But I won’t. You need sleep. I may be intrusive thoughts, but I won’t take advantage of you when your practically dead on your feet. I hate to say it, but we waited this long, what’s seven more hours, am I right?” Logan grasped onto the hand that was still secure around his tie. “You promise me that we will pursue this after I sleep? I won’t just wake up and have to go back to believing that I never even cross your mind?”

Logan’s fears were answered with another kiss, a gentle reassuring one this time. “Seven hours, then you’ll never be rid of me again, Glasses.” Logic chuckled at the answer, though it seemed forced. He didn’t want to continue these next few hours alone. Not when they had at last admitted out loud and to each other about what they felt for one another. Remus was right though, Logan was dead on his feet. These last few moments without his laptop had given his body the chance to let the months of backed up exhaustion wash over him. He was convinced he wouldn’t even had been able to stay awake through foreplay let alone other sexual activities. He had Remus’s word. Once he awoke, they would explore this relationship further, or at least he hoped this thing between them would turn into a relationship.

Logan jumped as Remus deeply chuckled. “Go, Logan. Go to bed. I can practically hear your thoughts from over here. We’ll talk when you’re up.” Logan rose from the chair but before sinking out he was the one who initiated a kiss this time. He even made sure to run his tongue along Remus’s lips causing the neon green side to groan loudly in need.

Logan pulled away with a victorious smirk. “Until then, Octo.” Remus smirked as the Logical side sank down through the floor. He ran his fingertips along his lips still faintly feeling Logan’s own lips against them. “I’ll see you soon, Lollipop.” ~ Bonus ~ Remus did his best to stay away. He really had but as the hours dragged on and on, he was getting more and more impatient. It was finally just one hour left. Remus wouldn’t dare wake the side but that didn’t mean he couldn’t go to his room. Right? Remus sank out in front of Logan’s door quietly. It was now the middle of the afternoon. The other sides were up and about doing their daily endeavors. He was thankful that Thomas hadn’t called for them all. He probably would have tried, and of course fail since he was imaginary, to punch Thomas in the face if he had even tried to call for Logan while the side finally slept.

Remus didn’t think on that any further and instead tried Logan’s door. If he stood out here any longer one of the others might see him. It was a shock that the door opened for him. He didn’t wait too long to think about it and quickly shuffled into the room, silently closing the door behind him. He hadn’t awakened Logan by entering the room. That was a good start. He crossed the room with ease since there was a soft glowing night light on the far side of the room. Once he made it to the edge of Logan’s bed it was there that he paused. Would it be too bold of him to join Logan? He wouldn’t touch the sleeping Logical side but would it still be too much if he got into the blue side’s bed? Before his thoughts to tumble into the mess of what ifs, he took the chance. He let his shirt disappear but left on a pair of comfy sleep pants. He eased into the open space in Logan’s bed and happily sighed as he sank into the perfect pillows and mattress. He let himself drift between awake and sleep, but his eyes opened as he felt Logan turn towards him as the hour came to an end. Logan didn’t react once he felt another being in his bed, he just rolled towards it in curiosity. Once he saw the wisps of white bangs and the constellation of freckles upon ivory skin, a smile shaped upon his face. “Good morning, Octo.” “Morin’, Lollipop.”

~The End!!~~

#intrulogical #ts intrulogical #ts remus x logan #ts remus #ts logan #remus x logan #octololli #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #ordinary art #remus fanart #logan fanart #intrulogical fanart #sanders sides fanart

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dajaregambler · 4 years ago

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HeliosR - Mission of CASINO Event story - Chapter 5

Translation of chapter 5 of the event ‘Mission of CASINO’ from ‘Helios Rising Heroes’.

Junior: (This place wasn’t kidding about not having enough staff. I’m a trainee dealer but I’ve been only dealing with chores…)

Junior: (Well, we can't afford to waste any second here, I’m glad I can walk around freely in here while cleaning and whatever else.)

Junior: (Doesn’t look like there’s anything that could serve as a clue about Eclipse, I have to properly pay attention-)

Junior: Hm?

Keith: ……….Haaaah~~

Junior: (How dare he sit there smoking, not giving a flying fuck!)

Junior: Oi, Keith. Weren’t you on break just a moment ago. Quit resting for so long after playing for a lil’ bit.

Keith: Lemme smoke as much as I want~ Keeps me going since I can’t have a drop of alcohol

Junior: What kinda reason is that! Keep your eyes peeled if you’re lazing around that much, or literally do anything. All you do is take breaks anyway...

Keith: Break’s a break. No point in having one if ya can’t rest

Keith: And yanno, being a dealer is nerve-wracking. You’d get it if you saw it for yerself. You’d wanna rest as soon as possible

Junior: ... I do actually want to try being a dealer. When I heard we’re going to infiltrate a casino, I told myself I’d definitely be one.

Junior: When I was getting hired I did some kind of test more or less but it was not good at all… Eventually I got to be a trainee dealer.

Junior: Hm? Thinking about it, if you’re working as a dealer, does it mean that you took the test?

Keith: Now you realize it...

Junior: Eh, you got dealer experience!?

Keith: Ain’t that big of a deal. Long time ago some customer during my part-time job taught me about it, and somehow remembered it

Keith: Got a decent tip for accompanying ‘em, was a nice job with pretty good rates y’know

Junior: Was that before you became a hero? Even then, didn’t you become rusty at it?

Keith: Every now and then I still play with someone at one of my usual spots. Without betting anything obviously, just an imitation what it’d be like at casino’s

Keith: If you wanna become a dealer like that, I’ll teach ya when we get back at the Tower

Junior: You will!?

Junior: Will not! I was going on about how you take too many breaks

Keith: Aaaw. You remembered huh…

Keith: We’re at a casino that’s operating 24 hours and both doing completely unreasonable shifts. Atleast lemme have the freedom to take a breather~

Junior: I’m telling you ‘cuz the only thing you do is relax! You shitty mentor!

Staff A: Ooh, did you two become close buds that soon already?

Junior: !?

Staff A: And, Leonard. Did you call Keith a ‘mentor’ just now?

Keith: Aah, yesterday while showing him around he somehow got attached to me

Junior: R-right! How do I say it, yesterday he looked like a mentor...

Staff A: Keith, a mentor? This guy has it in him to be one? I’ve also known him for just a few days, though it felt like he only thought about skipping work

Staff A: Think I get the reason why you ended up drifting ashore here, hahah

Junior: ….Told you so, oi

Keith: …...

Staff A: All things considered… I don’t believe you two got hired here because of the same circumstances

Staff A: Leonard in particular, he’s earnest if I had to call it that, makes it seem like he does have work experience...

Junior: !?

Junior: N-no, I mean I am told I come over as serious, but I didn’t have any work, or family, or money!

Staff A: I-is that so? Just feels that you come off as the exact opposite

Staff A: Anyway, Keith. It’s time to finish up your break. The number of guests are increasing, go entertain them at some table

Keith: Yeah yeah. I’ll go after one more smoke

Staff A: Good grief…

Keith: Haah… Doesn’t look like we got found out.

Keith: Got it, Junior. Someone like you being in this kind of place is not-

Junior: Ah, doesn’t look like there’s enough staff over there so I’m going!

Keith: Oi, Ju...Leonard!

Keith: Haah… Yer way too eager, lil’ Trainee dealer

#heliosR #helios rising heroes #keith max #leonard wright jr.#missionofcasino

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bave-de-crapaud · 5 years ago

Text

The Darkness within...

CHAPTER FOUR

(Soiltary by @thelamecat)

Request by: The lovely @belladonnarey.

A/N: So sorry for the delay, here ‘tis - the morning after the curse and Y/N is feeling less than perky. Enjoy and stay safe out there my lovelies.

Sirius x reader Older Sirius Sirius lives/Post Azkaban Slow burn and eventual smut

Word count: 2500+ Disclaimer: All characters are assumed 18+ Warnings: swearing, dirty minds

--- It was cold, sitting on concrete. Even though he had a coat of fur, Sirius was cold.

How does she stand living this far up North? He thought to himself, shivering slightly.

It didn’t help that he was surrounded by wet bush either. Sirius shook his coat and contemplated for the 50th time what he was doing here.

She’s fine. He told himself.

Both Dumbledore and Madeye have said she is fine. Still, he needed to see for himself. It had been nagging him over the past 24 hours.

Hangover gone, loose end obviously at, Sirius soon found himself sitting, shielded by shrubbery in front of your place.

For four hours he had been sat in his chilly, damp hidey-hole watching. Sensing no movement.

Just ten more minutes, then I’ll go. Sirius told himself for the umpteenth time.

---

“Come on Y/N. Get a fucking move on!” You growled at yourself through gritted teeth.

One foot in front of the other, you tackled the stairs.

Sirius had been right, a delayed curse was agony. It took you the best part of a day to get yourself out of bed, and as soon as you had managed to walk to the bathroom and back, you decided to tackle the stairs.

One step at a time, holding onto the banister for dear life you made it halfway. Stopping to rest and congratulate yourself you couldn’t help but feel smug that you were up and about, in the loosest sense of the word, in only one day. They had told you it would take at least three before you could get out of bed. Smirking smugly you straightened your shoulders and began to descend the remaining flight.

The smug security would soon wear off as your muscles, feeling like they were made of molasses and slipping further down inside you with every step, gave way and you fell the remaining steps, to land unceremoniously in a pile at the bottom of the stairs.

Your scream of surprise ending in a hollow ‘umpf’ as you landed, rang throughout the house followed by a loud: “Ow, FUCK!”.

That was painful. Well, at least I’m downstairs now. You thought to yourself. Trying and failing to lift yourself up you contemplated calling it a day and just staying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. It was certainly easier than trying to recover.

You would have laid there for eternity had it not been for a scramble at the front door. Crawling across the hallway you sat up enough to turn the handle and pull the door open. There stood a shaggy black dog with the most incredible grey eyes.

It whined and looked at you obviously concerned. It looked like your old dog but bigger, and hairier. The memory of her loving face swam in front of your face caused tears to fill your eyes and sobs to break free of your chest. From your seated position on the floor, you held your arms open and slurred “Come ‘ere.”

The dog instantly ran into your arms and you gripped it firmly. Pressing your face into its fur and breathing deep.

Fairly certain this was a side effect of the pain you grasped at the dog's fur, pulling it closer and whispering, “Where did you come from? Tell me are you real?”

It whined again as though trying to answer your question.

Feeling the fur you gripped for dear life dissolve, and knowing that this must have been a mirage of the mind but not wanting to let it go you pressed your face further into the beast. The soft black fur disappeared to make way for a firm warm substance. You blink looking at it opening your eyes further to see that you are clinging on to a white t-shirt connected to two muscled arms encircling you and rubbing your back.

A scent of vetiver and musk filled your nostrils and stirred a memory inside you. What the? You look up to see Sirius staring back at you, the surprise palpable on your face.

He seemed surprised himself. “Y/N! Hi, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you...I heard you yell.” “You heard me yell?” He nodded rubbing the back of his neck a faint blush forming on his cheeks, one hand still holding you.

“Yes I didn’t mean to reveal myself though - I thought you would be more comfortable with Padfoot...my dog form.” He added looking at your confused face.

“You heard me yell?” you repeated.

He nodded again.

“Were you outside?”

“I was.” He looked nervous again. “I wanted to check on you.” He appraised your tear stricken face and rumpled appearance. “You look...well.”

This managed to draw a “hrmph” from you as the corner of your mouth curled up a bit.

“Well, okaaay.” You said still looking at Sirius as if he was an illusion your addled mind had made up.

“I’m sorry Y/N, I really didn’t mean to frighten you by transforming mid-hug, I don’t know what happened?”

You closed your eyes and sighed. “It’s me, remember I told you I can sort of command animals? Well, that works for Animagi as well in their animal forms.”

“You’re kidding?!” You shook your head. “I asked you if you were real, and you answered me by showing me how you are.”

“Well, fuck me!” Sirius gazed into the distance. I’ll be careful never to be Padfoot around you when you’re pissed off with me then.

You smiled. Internally shoving the immediate thought that someone was referring to future contact with you. They all leave in the end.

“Can you help me up Sirius, I was coming downstairs to make tea.”

“Yes! Yes of course!” Sirius wrapped his arms around your waist and stood you up with him.

“Lean on me, love. Ok which way?”

You directed Sirius to the kitchen, leaning on his, admittedly, well-formed shoulder. As you slowly moved forward he couldn’t help notice the feel of your waist in his hands triggering a memory of his sex dream with you and causing him to loudly clear his throat.

“Are you ok Sirius? You are wincing?” You had noticed that he was taking careful effort to walk forward with you.

“I’m not too heavy am I?”

“Not at all Y/N.” He gave you a side smile.

“Just had a bit of a rough night the other night is all.”

You nodded wondering what he meant.

“Ok, here we go.” he gently placed you on the stool in front of your kitchen table then walked to the other side looking for cups, the kettle, and tea.

You directed him where these items were located and you realised that this is the first time you had anyone enter your house for anything other than Order or Death Eater business. No one ever came to check on you before.

“Y/N, I wanted to talk to you about your ‘powers.’” Sirius had looked up from placing tea bags in two mugs and was staring at you with a concerned look on his face.

Smile suddenly fading at the realisation that he was here just on business, you hardened your mind.

“Yes. What about them?” Your curt response was not lost on him but he pressed on.

“Why did you not know what the runes meant?”

“Why does anyone know what they mean?” You responded narrowing your eyes at him. “The only known runes are useless to me. I took that class at Hogwarts trying to seek out the meaning to my tattoos only to find them not to be there at all.”

“There’s more extensive research than Ancient Runes at Hogwarts, Y/N” Sirius replied incredulously.

“Yes, I do realise that.” You spat. “I have looked beyond Professor Laurenzoo’s class, but they aren’t anywhere. I can’t find anything that looks like my tattoos until I saw yours the other night.”

You huffed. Breathing was not coming easy and the pain in your body was starting to ache again with your anger making your insides hot. You closed your eyes, holding your ribs and sigh. You were too weak to retaliate.

Noticing your shortness of breath Sirius stepped around the table over to you and placed a hand on your arm.

“Y/N, are you ok, you shouldn’t be up - I’ll take you back to bed.”

“No, I’m fine.” You grunt.

“You are clearly not fine, love.” Sirius gently cupped your jaw, encouraging you to look at him.

As your eyes locked with his they flashed purple. You knew this because the caring concerned look he was giving you a second ago was replaced by one of confusion, surprise, and was that intrigue?

Your hackles stood on end as you realised you were getting close to losing your temper at him and despite your belief that you didn’t need help, some part of you wanted to keep your cool with him. Why?

They all leave sooner or later. An inner voice shook inside you.

“I’m fine, Sirius.”

Sirius didn’t move away. He was not afraid of you but for you. He could tell when someone was bottling up anger, hurt, and pain. He saw himself mirrored in your face and he desperately wanted to help you.

“You can’t keep doing this Y/N, you’ll burn out.” his thumb softly rubbed your cheek.

It felt so nice and you instantly became terrified. He needed to stop. You could not attach yourself to anyone, or anything anymore - if they don’t end up leaving you they will just meet their demise.

Poised to move away from him you stopped as Sirius’ other hand found yours and squeezed it gently. He moved infinitesimally closer to you and you could feel the faint cool brush of his breath on your forehead.

It felt good. More than good. You found yourself squeezing his hand back and leaning into the palm that held your cheek.

The white t-shirt he wore expanded and contracted in front of you with his rapidly increasing breath. You could see an outline of a taut stomach. Thinking of him topless in his kitchen while he interrogated you, you remembered the lines of his pectorals and the thin layer of sweat that hung to his skin, rogue droplets forming on the ridges of his abs and falling tantalizingly slowly to settle on the waistband of his trousers.

You looked up at him to see your lust mirrored in his face. A slow smirk formed on his face. Far from making you smile however, that look hardened your resolve and you recalled that this wasn’t the first time you had been propositioned for sex from someone who found your powers intriguing.

The second emotion to flash across your mind is embarrassment followed by disappointment.

You had heard stories of this man. He was not the type to stick around. Even if he did he would be a hard dog to keep on the porch. Think Y/N! Think. This is Sirius Black. He was threatening to curse you less than 48 hours ago, he can’t possibly like you more than just a one night stand.

Well, what’s wrong with that? Another voice in the back of your mind quietly uttered. There is nothing wrong with two consenting adults falling into bed together.

I bet he knows what he is doing. The same voice piped up - louder this time.

Oh god, he probably would have you screaming his name until sunset, you thought to yourself causing a plucking sensation in your core. Images of his naked body covering yours, touching you, feeling you, pressing against you entered your mind and made you visibly shudder.

Sirius noticed this and raised an eyebrow questioningly at you.

As quickly as this thought train occurred, the gravity of your situation fell down upon you. He doesn’t want you, Y/N. Another, more frequent, voice said.

And even if he did, you are a curse yourself, you cannot and will not allow anyone else to fall victim to your circumstance.

Frowning at him, you dropped his hand and sat up as straight as you could without falling over.

“What do you want Sirius, did you come here for sex? Because it’s not the first time a proposition has been carefully covered in a duvet of supposed caring words.”

Sirius stepped back from you and removed his hands so fast.

“No Y/N, no I was worried about you! I wouldn’t...ah..I’m not…” He paused and looked at you sheepishly. “If you are offering though...?” he smiled jokingly then immediately forced a somber expression on his face. “No, I wanted to see if you were ok, after the curse...the...what I did.” Flashes of you on his bed begging him to touch you swam around his brain causing him to screw his eyes shut and shake his head.

He was obviously uncomfortable. This softened you. You looked at him for a moment longer and noticed something. Is Sirius Black blushing?

He cleared his throat again and pressed on. “Anyway Y/N, you might not have found what you are looking for at Hogwarts or Flourish and Blotts but I happen to know of a book that is filled with Ancient runes, runes beyond Merlin and Mordred, that I’m sure could enlighten you on some of your tattoos. Are you interested?”

The desperation in your eyes at this information left him reeling. If you could, you would have jumped toward him. “Yes! Yes, Sirius, I am! Where... how do you know about this?”

“Well, I own it.” He shrugged at your raised eyebrows and answered your silent question.

“Old wizarding families, Y/N. You said you didn’t have a family? Well, then how could you have any family heirlooms? Most ancient magic is owned by collectors or passed down through inheritance, that’s why you have never found anything you can buy or learn in class.”

You held your fingertips up to your mouth in amazement looking around the room. Is this it? Could you finally be finding clues to your past?

Sirius smiled again. It is a warm smile full of compassion. “Come on Y/N. I’ll help you back to bed then leave you to rest.”

He ever so gently picked you up and carried you towards the stairs. As you placed your arm over his shoulders a thought occurred to you.

“Why are you helping me, Sirius?”

He shrugged, squeezing you closer to his chest in doing so, “Why not Y/N? You helped us, it’s the least I can do.”

That is not quite true. You thought looking up at him as he climbed the stairs.

Sirius placed you on your bed, your tea on the bedside table and watched you close your eyes. As you fell into a slumber, the smile slipped off his face and turned to a tight line of determination. He didn’t know why but he desperately wanted to help you.

You are afraid of yourself. You think you are a bad person and push everyone away. The one time you let a little light into your life it was snuffed out reinforcing that anything you touch burns.

Sirius knew this feeling. He knew it too well and he was adamant that it was not going to take you as it had once taken him.

Tag list: @belladonnarey @sirius-lysad @riddikuluslypotter @emmamass24 @evyiione @mylovelykelsifer @sly-vixen-up2nogood @ashkuuuu @virgilwrites-archive @virgilwrites @songforhema @wangmangagavroche @borbole-teias @legalyred @qwertyokok

#Sirius Black #sirius black x reader #sirius #sirius black fanfiction #sirius fanfic #sirius black imagine #HP #sirius imagine #Harry Potter universe #post azkaban #sirius lives #eventual smut #Smut #slowburn #OLDER SIRIUS #imagine #fanfic #writing #request

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neobonezone-blog · 5 years ago

Text

on friendship, boatraces, and beer pong | 01. in which jisung learns the consequences of being a sloppy drunk

masterlist.

D-5 to the first day of class: 9:45PM

It had technically been less than three days since Jisung first set foot on Canadian soil. Only 72 hours since he’d waved one last good-bye to his teary-eyed parents and boarded a plane bound for North America. Since then, he had moved into his student dorm, bought toiletries from the nearest pharmacy, briefly introduced himself to the other students living in his dorm hall, and signed up for various student orientation activities.

A mixture of jet lag and nerves made it so that he hadn’t slept for more than 4 hours at a time in the past few days. Jisung had decided to take it easy, slowly acclimate himself to the new Canadian climate, and maybe make a few transient friends throughout student orientation.

So then, why was he holding a solo cup of beer? And why was he watching someone down the remnants of a forty of Jack Daniel’s with reckless abandon?

“-And that’s how it’s done. This is why Johnny’s gonna recruit me for his Winter Games team and he’s gonna shaft the rest of you losers.”

A second-year with tanned skin and tousled caramel-colored hair slammed the empty bottle down onto a granite countertop with much more force than necessary. A disgruntled figure with bleached hair shouted from across the room,

“Fuck off, Donghyuck. You think that just because you’re friends with the guys at Campus Bar that you’re automatically better than us.”

“That’s because I am better than you,” Donghyuck countered, before fishing a ping poll ball out of his fanny pack. “Alright, so who wants to be on my team for beer pong?”

After signing up for the student Welcome Week, Jisung had received a bracelet and an email telling him that he belonged to Welcome Week Team #12 and that he was to report to campus grounds bright and early at 11AM the following morning to meet his team and his leaders. The proceeding events were not what he had expected when he signed up for Welcome Week only 24 hours prior: in one afternoon he had been ushered into over half a dozen bars, learned about 10 different ways to make a game out of a ball and a plastic cup, and discovered that day-drinking “isn’t an activity, it’s a lifestyle”. He was also informed at the end of the tour that a pregame party was taking place in two hours and that the whole team better be there.

Fast-forward to now, where Jisung was currently watching two of his team leaders face off in a game of beer pong. A game that Donghyuck was severely winning.

“Oh, come on!”

Another well-aimed throw sent Donghyuck’s ball perfectly into the center of the solo cup formation. His opponent, a leader who had introduced himself as Chenle, swore as he furiously gulped down the sunken cup before throwing it to the floor.

“Okay Lele, this one’s all you. You better make this next ball in or I’m gonna lose it.” Jisung recognized the sharp voice to come from Renjun, the shortest of the five leaders, whose brown hair was coiffed a few inches to match the other leaders in height.

“At least put the cups in the recycling bin,” a student with well-styled dark hair scurried across the room to pick up Chenle’s discarded cup. He tossed it into the recycling bin with an annoyed scowl. “My apartment isn’t a garbage bin, thanks.”

That was Jeno. The leader whose apartment had been the designated location for all the pregame parties. He was roommates with Jaemin, the last orientation leader, who was seated on the couch with a can of PBR in hand. A few first year girls sat next to him on the couch, eagerly asking him questions about the Economics program, though the look in their eyes suggested that they wanted to ask much more. Well, Jisung had to admit that the guy was good-looking. He struggled to think of anyone who could pull off that shade of ash blonde nearly as well.

“So Chenle’s the loser, just like he always is.” Donghyuck’s voice rang out the loudest from the constant hum of voices that filled Jaemin and Jeno’s apartment. Chenle’s furious protests were a close second, however, as the Chinese student swore for the thousandth time and immediately demanded a rematch with a different partner.

“Good luck without me buddy, you can’t aim for shit!”

Jisung turned in surprise to find Renjun next to him by the beer cooler, propping the lid open with his foot. He turned to Jisung with a mocking smile.

“I’ve never seen that guy win a game of beer pong once. He keeps trying, but at this point I think he should just give up.”

Jisung laughed half-heartedly, though his head was still ringing from all of the yelling and the music that was pounding tirelessly from Donghyuck’s speaker.

“Uh so anyway, you want some more beer?”

* * * * * *

12:07AM

After a full day with his orientation group, Jisung began to wonder just how seriously he’d misinterpreted the phrase “welcome week”. He had expected freshman orientation to be a simple walk around campus and a casual introduction to the city. Maybe a few pointers here and there on which cafes had the best coffee and which bars had the best deals, all finished with a friendly exchange of phone numbers and Facebook pages. But after three metro stops and another can of cheap beer, Jisung found himself in the middle of a concert floor packed with intoxicated first years and their equally as intoxicated orientation leaders. He had lost sight of Donghyuck as soon as he’d entered the venue, while Renjun and Chenle seemed to have disappeared just as quickly. He couldn’t remember if he’d even seen Jaemin or Jeno once they’d left the pre. Even if they were here now, he definitely wouldn’t be able to distinguish them among the mass of dancing bodies and pulsating strobe lights.

As EDM pounded in his eardrums, Jisung found himself caught up in the whiplash of events. Despite trying his best to fit in with the crowd, he felt himself being bumped into at all angles. A disorienting experience for what was supposed to be part of student orientation. Though, if there was anything that Jisung knew for sure, it was that he was way too sober for this event and that needed to change.

After weaving his way through the crowd and stepping on a few toes and crushed beer cans, Jisung made it to the bar. Just like the concert floor, it was packed, with dozens of students waving their credit cards in attempt to catch the attention of any one of the three bartenders, who were already juggling multiple orders at once. Jisung fumbled around helplessly as he looked for a bartender who was available to take his order.

Finally, a young woman with a high ponytail met him at the counter. She flashed him a strained smile and leaned in for his order.

“HOW MUCH?” Jisung screamed, doing his best to point at the cooler of beers behind the counter.

Her brow furrowed, as she leaned in closer.

“HOW MUCH?” Jisung repeated fruitlessly. He couldn’t even hear his own voice above all the noise.

Before he could repeat himself a third time, something light bounced off of his back and onto the floor. Cool moisture seeped into his t-shirt and dripped all the way down to the back of his shoes.

Jisung immediately whipped around to catch the culprit, but could only see the same indistinguishable crowd of dancing silhouettes in the darkness. When he turned back around, the bartender had already left and was taking the order of another university student a couple meters away. It was past midnight and he was stone cold sober. The only alcohol he had on him was whatever was soaked into his shirt. Maybe this was a sign that it was just time to give up.

He made a dejected beeline straight for the exit and found himself sitting on the curb by the venue’s entrance, rapidly checking his Google Maps for directions. His eyelids drooped. The night air was making him sleepy.

It was then that he heard a shrill yell followed by the heavy thud of bodies on concrete.

A familiar mop of bleached hair lay next to him on the pavement accompanied by a furious Renjun, who was saying every curse word known to man in one continuous intoxicated slur.

Chenle was face down on the sidewalk, the ruffled state of his clothing evidence of a hard fall.

“Is he okay?” Jisung asked, concerned that it had been a good ten seconds and Chenle still hadn’t moved.

Renjun ignored him. In an obvious state of distress, he attempted to sling Chenle over his shoulders, but being fairly drunk himself, only succeeded in dropping the poor kid onto the pavement another two or three times.

The scene before him was so pathetic that Jisung felt compelled to intervene, if only for his own conscience. He was practically sweating from the second-hand embarrassment and he prayed that everyone nearby was too wrapped in their own drunken stupor to notice what was going on. Wordlessly, he draped one of Chenle’s arms across his shoulders, before forcing himself (and the attached body) to his feet.

“We’re sooo fucked,” Renjun groaned, his eyes wide with panic. “If Committee sees us right now, we’re fucked.”

“Mmm… Where’s Jeno?” Chenle mumbled.

“Let’s drag him to an alley somewhere and leave him.”

That sounded like a horrible idea, but Jisung followed Renjun’s lead, as the smaller male attempted to drag Chenle’s body across the street. With every step, Jisung felt his knees shake. Was Chenle really that heavy or was he just really weak? It felt like he was holding a bag of rocks.

“Oh shi-“

With an accidental slip of the arm, Chenle was once again sprawled out onto the curb. His legs stuck out onto the street.

“Fuuuck,” Chenle moaned, loud enough to earn a few concerned glances from those passing by.

“This isn’t going to work,” Jisung panted, as he helped Renjun pull the second half of Chenle’s body onto the sidewalk.

“What am I gonna do?” Renjun turned to Jisung, hysteria edged in his voice, “I can’t take him back to our place. If the doorman sees Chenle like this he’s gonna report us to the landlord for sure- and our landlord already threatened to kick us out twice.”

Renjun’s eyes were pleading.

“You guys can stay at my place, I guess.”

Jisung hadn’t even meant for that to come out, but Renjun looked so miserable that he hadn’t been able to stop himself. Before he even had the chance to back up on his offer, Renjun grabbed his hand.

“Really? You’d do that for me? You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met.”

“Ah, er, I mean… I only have one bed- and I live in a dorm, but-“

“Jisung, you’re the best! Which dorm do you live in?”

“Briar Hill…”

“Great, I’ll call the Uber. Jisung, you’ve just saved my life.”

* * * * * *

2:50AM

“These fries are pretty good.”

Jisung could only nod in agreement as he tucked into a fried chicken sandwich with difficulty. It was hard to fit in a sandwich when his mouth was already crammed full of fries. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. The banquet spread of takeout fast food in front of him was the only thing that had stopped Jisung from deciding to kick Renjun and Chenle out. The day’s events left him exhausted, and for the first time since he’d left Korea, he actually wanted to sleep. Unfortunately, Chenle didn’t look like he was getting up anytime soon.

“So… Where are you from?” Renjun asked, casually throwing a fry into his mouth, as if his roommate wasn’t practically on death’s doorstep right behind him.

“Korea,” Jisung answered shortly, stuffing some more fries in between the bun of his sandwich.

“Seriously? I should introduce you to the others, then. They’re Korean too! You think this school is racist or something? Like, putting all of the Asians on the same teams? I dunno, that’s kinda weird right? Anyway, I’m from China, but I’m Korean too… ethnically. I think my mom told me that we have distant relatives in North Korea, isn’t that crazy?”

“Mm-hmm,” Jisung mumbled. He wanted to be interested, but his eyelids felt like they were made of lead.

“So like, back in China, I went to an international school and all that, but I was so sick of spending my whole life in one place. I really wanted to go to university somewhere else, somewhere foreign, you know? I had to beg my parents to let me even apply here, had to promise them I’d graduate with straight-A’s and everything, intern at the company they wanted me to intern at for the summer, y’know? But as soon as I got here, I was free. It’s been great. Now I play games for as long as I want and my parents can’t even come here to stop me. They don’t have a clue what I’m doing here and even if they did, what are they gonna do? Well, I guess they could stop sending my tuition…”

Jisung hadn’t kept track of how long Renjun had been talking, but it was sometime between 3 and 4AM when Renjun had managed to convince a friend to come pick him and Chenle up. Jisung waved them good-bye, but was much too tired to bother walking them out to the street. He stayed in his room and breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he shut the door behind him.

Just like that, they were gone.

Jisung flopped onto his bed without even bothering to lift up the covers. Thanks to Chenle, his sheets were infused with the faint smell of tequila. His eyes wandered to the crumpled paper bags and fast food wrappers that littered his floor, as well as to the soiled t-shirt that he tossed into his laundry bin as soon as he’d stepped foot into his room. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his jeans, but at the moment he was too exhausted to care.

His first day of student orientation and all he’d gotten was tequila on his clothes, a free meal, and bedsheets that smelled like the back of a bar. He’d barely drank, but his ears were still pounding from the music they had been playing at the venue. As he began to feel himself dozing off, he could hear his cellphone vibrating next to the discarded pile of wrappers on his floor.

It was a message from Renjun:

Hey Jisung

Thanks for letting us crash at your place for a few hours

I owe you big time :p

- Your handsome orientation leader, Renjun

* * * * * *

a/n: and that’s the first chapter, i hope you like it!

a disclaimer moving forward- sorry if i get some of their personalities wrong, as there are some NCT members whose personalities i am less familiar with than others (but i’m working on learning more!). wayv members and nct127 members will also feature in the story in the coming chapters, but i don’t want to introduce everyone all at once.

#on friendship boat races and beer pong masterlist #nct #nct dream #nct jaemin #nct jeno #nct chenle #nct renjun #nct jisung #nct haechan #nct college au #nct university au

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badlydrawndrawnings · 5 years ago

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Semi-formal critique/rant about a lack of P1/P5 comparisons

When the first Persona 5 PV came out, there was a general agreed consensus that Persona 5 was going to be the Persona 2 duology (with Innocent Sin being the most compared Persona 2 game) of the modern games. This consensus grew more and more as more playable characters were introduced, character info was released, and certain gameplay elements were introduced, like demon negotiation and GUNS as a secondary ranged weapon.

That last one is more of a Persona 1/SMT gameplay element but whatever.

By the time of the game’s release, and with more people playing the game/watching let’s play and walkthroughs (and the anime, and the seemingly slow release of the official manga I can only occasionally find ~not Mementos Missions btw~), this consensus was and is still around. It’s not as strong as before, but it’s there. There are also some people that like to say the two games were handle the same way (with Innocent Sin once again being the most compared Persona 2 game) via characters and certain plot points. I actually made an old post about it, right here.

With the Japanese Release of Persona 5 Royal, these claims exponentially rose again to strong levels to where I literally wanted to go into Tim Barry’s Royal Stream chat and type ‘please stop talking about persona 2 and nyary please stop talking about persona 2 and nyary.’ Why? Because after watching much of Royal to the best of my ability, I come to the realize that, Persona 5 Royal at least, is trying to be the Persona 1 of the modern games. And fair warning, I will go into major spoilers for Royal in depths, based off what is known.

We have Reiji Kido and Goro Akechi, bastard children who revenge over their father is their main goal. Yet due to one factor being present (or absent), they show the different outcomes of their fates, one being able to move on after his revenge for thirst and live a normal life with his own family, while the other who fate is unknown (in Original Persona 5; Royal will be touch upon under the read more) as his revenge possibly costed his life.

We have Masao ‘Mark’ Inaba and Ryuji Sakamoto, two good teenagers who are momma’s boys and delinquents at their school. Yet the title of delinquent is either truthfully earn because of actual delinquent-like behavior that will lead to a future career, or a title gradually earned after an accident that costed a possible future career had it never happened at all.

We have Eriko ‘Elly’ Kirishima and Ann(e) Takamaki, both who are in fact one-fourth American models. Yet given how they appear so differently, it must have factor into how are treated by other student, with one looking more of the typical Japanese person she is deem odd mostly due to her ‘eccentricities’, the other appearing more foreign with blonde hair and blue eyes due to a chance of genetics she is treated unfairly due to rumors and enforcing negative stereotypes.

Once you get into the Royal Third Semester, the comparisons grow into new levels that took me by surprise.

For one, we have Kasumi Yoshizawa. Kasumi can be best describe as the love child/clone of Maki (with that red ribbon and some parts of her personality) and Naoya (P1′s Manga Protag’s background of sorts). For you see, Kasumi is not Kasumi. She is Sumire Yoshizawa, twin of Kasumi Yoshizawa. Sumire loves the real Kasumi, but the poor girl is envious of her older and much more talented sister. It grew and grew until Sumire is full with such negativity and hate with her life as how it is and how she is, Sumire couldn’t handle it anymore and decides to go into traffic to possibility kill herself.

And the real Kasumi dies trying to save her younger. Needing counselling for her depression and guilt of what happened, Sumire’s cognitive of herself change into her believing (with someone’s help, who I will discuss) she is Kasumi and lives her life as Kasumi. It’s only until the Third Semester does Sumire remembers the truth. It took awhile, but Sumire was able to overcome everything and awaken fully, with what appears to be Kasumi herself -that’s right a dead person- becoming Cendrillon.

So one is wondering who the heck made Sumire believe she is Kasumi? It’s none other than Takuto Maruki! Everyone figured this man shouldn’t be trust, but oh boy. We weren’t expecting any of this sorts! For one, Takuto is a Persona User. Now, adult Persona Users are canon since the first game with Takahisa Kandori, but it’s Kandori we ought to focus on (and only Kandori in Persona 1).

Kandori is nothing like Takuto. Kandori is a business man through and through, being the head president of the Sebec Branch in Mikage-Cho. Both men believe it or not, have the same goal of sorts of imposing their ideal version of the world over reality with their own means, Takuto with his Persona Powers that sort became supercharge after Yabadadoo’s defeat by the PT, Kandori with the Deva System Sebec build.

Takuto honestly has good intentions, wanting a world where people can be happy without heartache and pain, which started when his former girlfriend had to go to the hospital after her parents died (in what I think was a burglary gone wrong). In fact, Takuto’s status as an antagonist is interesting. He knows the PT and has a Co-op/Confidant with Joker. While exploiting them for his research, he does so in his belief he is going to help them and everyone else because his way is the best. In fact, Takuto believes himself so much, he wants to make sure his ideal world will happen by trying stop Joker from sending a calling call by using Goro as one weird last resort.

Because according to Takuto, the real Goro is dead. The real Goro was taken hostage on Shido’s ship, but the destruction of the Palace pretty much doom Goro to a watery grave. Because of Joker’s unknowing wish to see Goro again (if you pick the right option), Takuto was able to use his powers to start the Third Semester on 12/24, the day where Joker canonically has to turn himself in. The Goro here is in effect, Dream!Goro who is eerily just like the real Goro. When Joker decides to listen to Dream!Goro of not accept the dream world and to accept reality as it is, that’s when Takuto takes out the big guns (aka, use his Persona). After losing to the PT via Personas, Takuto makes another go at it by almost became GOD by fusing with his Persona. When he goes back to his human self, Takuto fucking fights Joker in a fist fight and you pretty much ask yourself: how many times do we have to teach you this lesson old man? But at the end, Takuto accepts it, and is given a second chance at life.

Kandori is just a selfish prick who only cares for himself. How much of a selfish prick? When the Deva System got attached to Maki’s subconscious and her Ideal World, Kandori decides to exploits Maki’s powers (via Aki, aka, Girl in Black) as a mean to his own end of becoming GOD. He also couldn’t give a shit about the P1 crew, hating them all and likes taunting them. Kandori couldn’t care less about his half bastard brother’s revenge goal, but comments Reiji does have that Kandori blood lol.

And believe or not, Kandori is one of the few Persona villains to win. He actually achieves his dream of being God of a new world...and feels unfilled by it. By the time the Persona 1 crew confronts him, the man is particularly wishing for death because he has nothing else to live for since who knows how long his world can last. Kandori would have probably at surrender to them if Nanjo didn’t push Kandori into one last fight. Like Takuto, Kandori fuses with his Persona (though it’s not like he planned it), but he dies in this battle, pretty much as a empty man and as a possible warning of a wrong future.

Though Kandori gets the last word by revealing to the P1 crew that he isn’t the real person they should be focusing on. That goes to the real Maki, who is still sick in her bed (as it turns out, the Maki everyone is with is the Ideal Maki of real Maki’s dream, who is nothing like her).

(I forgot to mention it, but there’s also a brief moment on 12/31 when Joker dreams of an empty and dark Shujin Academy. It’s really similar to St. Hermelin during the parts the P1 crew have get lost travel through the school.)

With that being said about Royal, one can see what Persona 1 elements show up, how it works in both the original based game and Royal re-released, and the understand how Royal is trying to be the Persona 1 of modern Persona games. Yet people are still only taking about Persona 5 and how it’s like the Persona 2 duology (mainly Persona 2 Innocent Sin; I seen way too many people discuss in the Tim Barry chat how getting posses by your Persona came from IS but it was there since the first game).

And so I finally has to ask the question I thought I would never ask: Why do Persona fans tend to not make P1/P5 comparisons?

Is there something about Persona 1 that makes it easy to not make these comparisons? Like, I know the earlier games aren’t easy to play (especially one; I actually can’t play in First Person games in general because I get headaches from the format after half an hour or so of gameplay). That’s why the option to watch a let play walkthrough, reading the manga, listening to the audio drama, or do a combination of all the above exist.

But is there’s something in Persona 1 in all of its materials, that makes it unworthy of talk like Persona 2 to be worthy of a comparison to Persona 5? I am in no means bashing the Persona 2 duology at all but I genuine want to know, without the need to cause discourse.We already have enough as it is.

#persona 1 #persona 5 #reiji kido #goro akechi #ryuji sakamoto #masao inaba #eriko kirishima #ann takamaki #anne takamaki #persona 5 royal spoilers #persona 5 the royal spoilers #p5r spoilers #this is a text post #lol fix a few word mistakes

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