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kaitsawamura · 4 years ago

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would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮ Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮ Rating: M (for mature) ⎮ WC: 5525 ⎮ Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader ⎮ Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint) ⎮ AO3

NOTES⎮ Thanks to @spacelabrathor for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome for fueling my Kiri fever dreams. Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp. Hope y'all enjoy! (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar. But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it. They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself. Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer. You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet. He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally… and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time. It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it. Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people. You’d have the whole place to yourselves. Like that should mean something. Which it did. It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach. Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago. Neither of you had made a move. Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with. It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on. But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency. The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye. Not for the obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse.

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk. But he was just like that you had quickly discovered. He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch. He knew when to push and when to back off. He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn. The kids flocked to him. Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him. It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts. The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there? You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly. It isn’t big. You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses. Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous. But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time. Clean, straight lines and lots of windows. In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door. Is that a pool ? Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro. The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth. You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out! I mean, that would have been fine, of course. I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.” He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool. “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!” You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym. I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely. You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here. The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves. But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins. You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago. And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs. No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side. Shit. His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. He has to know . Doesn’t he? From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive. Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard. You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping. It’s so green . There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna. Violets, tulips. Huge hosta plants. And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!” He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it? I guess it is pretty nice, huh?” You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile. You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.” You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “What are you thinking for today?” The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat. You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?” You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan. The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips. He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick. You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet. He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display. Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri. I just don’t want to wear you out . You’re a Pro Hero. You’re on the job a lot more than I am. Plus, you’re getting kind of old. Is that a little gray I see coming in?” Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted. Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.” Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip. His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment. You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity. He looks as if he’s going to devour you. You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body. A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up. The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin. The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen. You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat. The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym. You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment. When you could give extra attention with extra time.

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you. You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk. Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit. Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist. It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk. Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk. It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills. The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy. You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well. You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven. His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice. You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out. It surges through you like pure energy.

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook. This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt. Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet. He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?” He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach. You were fast, but still not always fast enough. You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in. Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top. You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard. You good?”

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable. He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late. You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today. Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back. But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core. He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours. You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before… “Fuuu-.” It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open. You’re seeing stars. Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again. You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun. You snort, rolling your eyes. Why does he still look so fucking good? The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl. His hair has curl to it? You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes. You like the curl. “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?” It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms. “I’m thinking not. Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.” You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows. Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.

“Is that any way to treat your student, Red Riot?” You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll. He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space. You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher. I’m not that much older than you. Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?” He’s so fucking close. This is getting dangerous. Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance. Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass. Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.

So you fall back on what you’re here to do. Fight. You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away. His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared. He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay. I see. I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?” You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri. Bring it on.” He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control. “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles. Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more. Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply. And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon. But you’re also both stubborn. And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination. No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration. The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not. You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head. You can be too predictable sometimes.” He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire. You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless. You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc. A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle. He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming. But he doesn’t. And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward. He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand. You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck. Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body. It doesn’t take long for him to tap out. You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off. Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride. You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad. In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good . He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you. His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere. He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes. If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you. He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable. You did good today. Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far. Keep it up.” He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts. He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment. “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--” The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his. His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more. Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment. A suspended second in time. But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side. But it’s warm and gentle. Gentle. Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle? But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations. His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit. You’re so wet .” He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit. He takes his hand away and you mewl. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts. You nod, eyes half-lidded. He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious. Adoration. It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt. You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it. Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm. You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat. He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to. He’s done this before, he’s had to. He’s too good. Too fucking good. Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth. “Shit. Shit. Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--” He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym. It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue. But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock. You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum. Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them. Another time, maybe.

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing . He could snap you like a twig. But he won’t. You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…” You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders. You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled. You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much. His forehead drops to yours as he pants. But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to. It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins. You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss. “Oh fuck, ohfuck.” You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing. “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper. Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity. Let him leave marks. Let him leave them everywhere. He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling. “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.” His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good. S’ tight. Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym. The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip. He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes. Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ” He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct. He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point. “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream. Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic. The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath. “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins. His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt. He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole. Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours. Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before. You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri. Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression. Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed. He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex. But you’re smiling. Lazy and tired, completely at ease. “Wanna take a shower?” When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest. He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra. Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now. When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again. His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss. But it's slow and sweet.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers. He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water. Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now. The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep. But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in. When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel. “You okay?” He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired. I should, uh, probably get going.” Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line. Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail. But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug. A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest. His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice. You bury your face further in as you nod against him. Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed. He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him. Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you. The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket. It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake. You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist. His eyes are open now and he watches you. You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time. I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t… I don’t really hook up .” Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across. He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful. And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along. You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “I just. I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And normally I would have wined and dined you first but... Well. Here we are. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Is something funny?” That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri. I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.” A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection. The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijirou #pro hero kirishima #red riot #kirishima smut #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaitsuki writes #oh my god i had such brain block #writing this one #because i get too in my head writing smut #BUT i hope everyone still enjoys #we stan kiri in this house

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bosspigeon · 4 years ago

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a permanent solution to a temporary insanity

Pairing: Mason/m!Detective, with a side of Adam/Nate (implied)

Words: 5257

Summary: Unit Bravo discover the detective has... a lot more tattoos than they would have guessed. Felix is delighted. Mason is intrigued. Nate and Adam are just worried this is going to cause issues with Rebecca, somehow. Tina and Verda become chaotic disasters when they’ve had some alcohol in them.

Takes place at the beginning of Book 2. Title taken from a quote my granddad likes to use whenever he wants me to know he disapproves of my tattoos.

AO3 Link | Ko-Fi <3

"Get your foot off the table, you fucking barbarian!"

Mason can hear the voice of the detective's coworkers from across the bar, but even if he couldn't, Chase's scent is easy enough to track. The muted bite of coffee, the sharpness of pine tempered with clary sage. The cooled sweat of a long day, and, just barely perceptible, the intoxicating undercurrent of his blood.

Mason's awareness narrows down to that stimulus, and he weaves his way through the meager crowd. He is only vaguely cognizant of his unit following behind him, so focused on finding--

He hears a laugh, low and husky, a bit of a scuffle, and he finds the detective sitting at a table with the pathologist, Verda, and the Bobblehe-- Officer Poname.

Chase's back is to him, and he’s sitting in a chair at the end of a table squished into a corner. Verda and Poname are opposite him in a booth against the wall, laughing, while Poname tries in vain to wrestle Chase's scuffed combat boot off the edge of the table. The smell of alcohol is strong between the three of them, but that is not what makes Mason stop dead.

Chase's leather jacket is draped over the back of his chair, and underneath, what Mason always thought was a full turtleneck sweater is actually completely sleeveless. The detective's arms are bare, save for intricate swirls and clusters of ink, mostly black, but with some pops of color here and there. Some of it is flowers, some words, a few bones and animal skulls. Abstract shapes and lines, a few sharp little designs, from shoulder to knuckles on both arms-- and Mason suddenly realizes Chase always seemed to be wearing supple leather palm gloves that matched his jacket, or, when it was colder, cozy wool fingerless gloves so he could still use his phone without trouble. Not tonight, though. Tonight his hands are bare, his arms are bare, and the ribbed shirt he’s wearing is clinging to him and really showing off the stout strength of his torso.

Mason grunts as Felix runs into his back, and time seems to pick back up to normal speed while his companion loudly complains.

Chase's head turns upon hearing the familiar voice, and Mason gathers his wits and offers a smirk and a carefully relaxed wave, sauntering up alongside the man, who raises a glass full of some dark mixed drink to him.

"There’s nothing we can do until we’ve got more information about our case, so I'm off tomorrow-- ask Rebecca," he informs Adam, who is looking disapprovingly between the detective's lax, sprawled posture and the half-empty glass held loosely in one hand, "so I don't want to hear you bitching about what I'm doing."

Adam's mouth pinches, Nate chuckles and tries to stifle it, and Mason coughs out a ragged laugh. But all that is lost to Felix shoving his way bodily around Mason to grab Chase's wrist (thankfully the one without the drink) and shout, "You've got so many tattoos!"

Chase gives Felix a lazy once-over, his brow quirked. "Yeah? And?" He looks a little bemused, as if he can’t quite figure out how this came as such as a surprise to any of them, much less a busybody like Felix. He obviously can’t say it in front of his coworkers, but Mason remembers Chase’s time with Murphy. The hospital gown and the needles and bandages. But even though they could all see in the dark just fine, there was a bit too much going on to really notice more than some smudges of dark ink on his neck and arms.

He thinks their minds might be going to the same place, for a moment, because Chase’s mouth twists from a lazy smile to a grim frown, dark, serious brows scrunching. It’s a slight gesture, barely noticeable, but he jerks his head once, as if to shake off the memories.

They’re both, thankfully, distracted by Felix whirling around to point accusingly at Mason. "Did you know he had this many?"

"If I did, would I tell you?" he sneers. Felix pouts mightily, but then pauses, and smiles. A slow, creeping smile, his eyes narrowed smugly.

"If you did know, you'd have been telling everyone you saw what the detective's got under his clothes any chance you got," he taunts. "So you must not have!"

Nate can't quite stifle his laugh this time, and Mason shoots him a dirty look.

Chase chuckles, low and smoky, and brings the glass to his lips again. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot of tattoos. Almost more than bare skin by this point, I think?” He looks to Verda and Poname as if to confirm, though with an odd little smirk that makes Poname giggle helplessly and Verda roll his eyes.

“Verda would know best,” Poname teases. “How much of Chase have you seen?”

“Enough to know that, yes, the un-inked real estate is scant at best.” He takes a demure sip of his drink while Poname cackles.

“My boss fucking hates it,” Chase snorts into his glass, gesturing vaguely with the free hand he’s rescued from Felix for Unit Bravo to sit. He finally removes his boot from the edge of the table (which makes Poname throw her hands in the air) and uses it to push the chair next to him out, dark eyes flickering up to meet Mason’s for a fraction of a second, stoking a low sort of heat in his belly. He takes the offered seat before Felix can (to some very vocal complaining) and lounges back, angling the chair so he’s able to watch the detective without making it too obvious.

Nate slides into the booth next to Poname, who immediately turns her gaze almost reverently to him, and Adam sits stiffly alongside him, giving the both of them an unreadable look. Felix posts up alongside Verda, smiling with annoying cheerfulness across the table at Chase and Mason.

“If your boss hates them so much, how’d you get the job?” he chirps, still marvelling at all the inked skin on shameless display. It makes Mason feel a bit twitchy, and he swallows down the urge to bare his teeth at his teammate with two very ignorant human witnesses in front of him. He distracts himself by subtly eyeing a splash of color on Chase’s solid shoulder in the form of a wrought-iron lantern with a single guttering candle inside, wreathed in wilted and dying flowers that trails shed petals and leaves down his bicep to mingle with other patterns.

“Mum’s got connections,” Chase drawls, swirling his glass and impressively feigning nonchalance. The ice cubes inside clink softly. “As you all know.”

The quiet that follows is damning, and Chase breaks it by tossing back another gulp of his drink. This close, with his senses full of the detective’s overwhelming… everything, Mason can tell it’s rum and Coke-- rather heavy on the rum.

Nate is the first to speak, offering a politely neutral, “You told us you were given a choice between the police academy or prison.” His tone lacks any judgement, but his brows are furrowed just a bit. Beside him, Adam’s expression is carefully blank. Good for both of them, because even clearly, comfortably tipsy and oddly candid, Chase’s gaze is sharp and analytical, his shoulders just this side of too tight.

“Yeah, well,” he goes on, staring past Nate more than at him, “Rebecca’s influence goes a long way, I learned. So after I graduated from uni-- top of my fuckin’ class, thank you-- I went off on a bit of a wild tear, you know, acquiring cars under mysterious circumstances,” Poname sputters into her drink and laughs, and Chase just gives her a dry look before she regains herself enough for him to continue, “and selling them for scrap, I miraculously didn’t wind up going to straight to prison, thanks to Rebecca pulling some strings and dragging me back here by my ear.” His lip curls faintly, and there’s a flash of something in his expression that seems to drop the temperature in the bar by a few degrees. Felix meets Mason’s eye and visibly shudders.

“That doesn’t really explain the tattoos,” Mason says, offering an easy segue to something… else.

“Sort of does,” Chase says with a shrug, eyes heavy-lidded. “I had a pretty wild childhood up to that point. Got my first stick-and-poke when I was, what? Thirteen? I think the kid who gave it to me is working at the bank now.” He snorts. “My point is, it was the one thing about my life I ever got to control. I had to be perfect, but so long as I did well in my academic pursuits and set myself on exactly the path my mother wanted for me, in my free time I could do whatever the fuck I wanted.” He rolls his shoulders again and knocks back the last of his drink, setting the glass down just a little too hard on the sticky tabletop.

“I drank, I partied, I fucked around. What else do you do when you’re a kid with no parental influence in your life save for a picture on the mantel of an empty house? You go off the fucking wall is what you fuckin’ do. Anything for even a shred of attention. And I still managed to graduate with honors, right? First in my class in secondary school, and in uni. Didn’t matter, did it?” His face goes hard, brows furrowing. “She didn’t bother to congratulate me in person. I got a card on her office stationery that I doubt she even wrote herself. My graduation from uni she didn’t even respond to the invite I sent, but I still stupidly hoped she’d show. She didn’t care until I snapped and she actually had to step in. Take a break from her job and come collect her errant brat.” He scoffs, and it sounds like a gunshot in the sudden silence that follows.

Nate looks like he wants to say something, mouth opening, but Adam touches his wrist and it snaps closed. Even Felix is stunned silent. Verda and Poname just exchange twin looks of familiar distress, but before anyone can say anything, Chase stands up so suddenly his chair shrieks across the floor. Mason, Nate, Adam, and Felix all wince at the sound.

“I’m going to get another drink,” the detective mutters, stalking off into the crowd. Mason looks over his companions, eyebrows raised, decides he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation, and gets up to follow.

Chase is leaning against the bar, asking the bartender for “something stronger than a rum and Coke, holy fuck,” and doesn’t even look up when Mason moves to stand beside him.

“I get moody when I get drunk,” he says by way of greeting.

“So you’re always drunk, then?" Mason drawls. "Not very professional of you, Detective."

Chase snorts and turns to look at him, but he doesn’t say anything-- just closes his eyes and rubs his hand over the rough fuzz of his shaved head. Mason’s gaze is drawn to his hand, and he spots a ouija planchette inked into one knuckle, a pentacle on the next, then an eye, and a crescent moon. They look old, faded and a bit blown out. When Chase opens his eyes again, the bartender has given him another drink, and from the smell, it’s a highball with a hefty pour of whiskey. He takes his first sip almost gratefully.

“Those the stick-and-pokes you mentioned?” Mason asks.

Chase holds up his hand. “Hm? Oh, yeah, a couple of ‘em. Not the first ones.” He turns his hand palm-up, and gestures with the glass. “There on the wrist.” Along the inside of his forearm is an intricate dagger with thorns twisted along the blade, but a few centimeters below the point, there is a tiny, blurry skull with a black forked tongue. “Toby Doherty, year 8. We put together a tattoo gun in his dad’s garage by pulling apart his little brother’s RC car. Think we got into more trouble for that than the tattoo.” He huffs out a rough little laugh. “I just think his mum was too nervous to actually shout at me, but I was never allowed back to their house afterwards because I was a bad influence.”

Mason reaches out and takes his hand, pulling it a bit closer so he can study the skull more closely. That’s what he tells himself, anyway, though he doesn’t think he’s fooled, and he doesn’t think the detective would be either. Especially when he rubs his thumb over the raised lines. He can feel Chase’s pulse through his thin skin, blood pumping hot and steady. This close, his pine-and-sage scent is stronger, and it fills Mason’s chest. "It's cute," he says, little more than a breath between them. He leans in, pulls the detective's wrist close to his mouth. He can feel the heat of his skin, almost taste the warmth just beneath, and Chase's breath is soft and quick and deafening in his ears.

“Chase!”

He drops the hand as if burned, and looks away from the detective before he can see how he reacts. Poname is toddling up to them, swaying a bit, and she wiggles her way between them to toss her arms around Chase's middle. He raises his highball in the air to keep her from spilling it, and she giggles.

"Chase, come back, you've got to show them!"

He groans. "Show them what?"

She only giggles louder and starts pulling him back towards the group, using the much steadier detective as a bit of a crutch to keep from stumbling through the milling crowd. When they arrive back at the table, things aren't really more comfortable than when they'd left, but they're not less so either, which Mason supposes is more than they could ask for. He takes up his seat again, but when Chase moves to do the same, Poname keeps hold of his arm.

"Wait, wait, you should be standing up for this," she giggles. Verda doesn't say anything, but he does snicker quietly into his tall glass of something that smells cloyingly of fruit syrup and sweetened vodka.

"Tina, what are you on about?" he sighs indulgently.

"You have to show them King Kitty!"

Mason’s interest is immediately piqued. Felix’s is too, clearly. He sits bolt upright and leans forward with that bright-eyed little imp grin he likes to give his teammates whenever he’s teasing them about… well, anything, really. “King Kitty?” he asks with eyes sparkling.

Chase groans, sets his drink on the table, and pushes Poname away, sending her stumbling into the table while she laughs brightly. “Don’t call it that, Tina. Christ.”

“You have to show them! He’s so good!” she insists, swaying towards him again. He dodges, and damn near skitters around the table to press into Verda’s space, which would have given Poname the means to corner him if she could figure out how to move around Chase’s abandoned chair as well as Mason (side-eyeing her cautiously) without getting tangled or falling over entirely. Verda continues to laugh at their antics, pushing Chase’s hip as it crowds into his space and threatens to make him spill his drink.

“Come on, now, what could it hurt?” he chides playfully, slipping his finger into the belt loop of the detective’s cargo pants and tugging playfully.

“Hey!” Chase barks, shifting away. All that manages to accomplish is tugging down his waistband the slightest bit, exposing the edge of his black underwear and a thin sliver of skin-- inked with designs Mason can’t properly parse, though he can’t help but lean forward a bit for a closer look. “I’ll have both of your asses for harassment, don’t test me!”

“Chase, our precinct is tiny,” Verda hiccups, finally making the decision (though it clearly pains him) to set his drink aside, since it seems Chase is perfectly willing to clamber over him to escape Poname’s grabbing hands, “I’m the HR department. You haven’t got a case here.”

“Show theeeeem,” Poname whines, putting one hand on Mason’s shoulder to steady herself. A low growl rumbles in his chest, but one sharp look from Nate (who is trying very hard not to smile at the scene, while Felix is outright giggling, and Adam simply looks confused and uncomfortable) quiets him. She smells strongly like some sort of bubblegum perfume that tickles the back of his tongue and leaves it feeling itchy and thick.

“I still have to work with them,” Chase protests, but his resolve is visibly wavering, especially with the lack of options to escape.

“We won’t tell anyone!” Felix blurts, leaning across the table. “Promise!”

Mason doesn’t chime in, but it’s a near thing. The last few weeks he’s tested the limits of both Adam and Nate’s patience with his innuendos about the detective, and he even thinks Agent Kingston might be one lewd joke from stabbing him with a fountain pen.

But Chase is weakening, he can tell. Mostly because he can’t seem to figure out how to climb over Verda, and Poname’s hands have found his belt. “Fine! Fuck, fine, you menace!” he exclaims, pushing her off with a surprising amount of gentleness, considering his tone. “Just get off me!”

Poname backs off obediently, but she’s still giggling up a storm, flushed with the effort, her hair a bit mussed. Verda looks entirely unbothered, and he takes up his drink again with a smug smile. Chase returns to his chair but doesn’t sit, and Poname returns to cozying up to Nate and being entirely oblivious to Adam trying very hard not to look annoyed.

Chase takes a deep, bolstering breath, snatches up his drink, and downs about half in one swig. “You’ve all got to swear you won’t breathe a word to Rebecca about this,” he says with grave, if faintly slurred, severity.

“Oh, absolutely,” Mason agrees, quickly enough that Felix shoots him another infuriating smirk.

“Scout’s honor!” Felix blurts, nearly bouncing in his seat.

Nate smiles and nods, looking for all the world like he’s simply indulging the shenanigans, but he’s clearly curious himself. Chase isn’t terribly secretive about most things-- he’s actually pretty fucking blunt-- so this has to be… interesting, for him to put up such a fight. Adam looks like he’s bolstering himself to look away as quickly as possible so he can have some plausible deniability should Agent Kingston find out regardless.

Chase’s hands go to his belt, and Mason’s stomach clenches, heat rushing under his skin. The detective unbuckles with practiced ease, flicks the snap open, and tugs the edge of his cargo trousers and briefs (are they briefs? Mason would certainly like to find out) down just a bit. His other hand goes to his fitted shirt, tugging it up.

The hair beneath his navel is thick and dark, and the trail leading down into his trousers is very, very inviting, but Mason’s attention is drawn inexorably to the design inked into the soft, brown skin. He supposes he should have expected the name “King Kitty” to give it away, but he couldn’t have predicted what he was in for.

It’s a snarling black cat, cartoonishly stylized, wearing a jauntily cocked royal crown. Underneath, spanning from hipbone to hipbone, are the words “BOW DOWN” written in bold, jagged script.

“Everyone, meet King Kitty,” Poname proclaims with a sloppy, grand gesture to Chase’s pelvis.

“Yeah, yeah, are you happy now?” Chase groans, hiking his waistband back up and buckling his belt. He tugs his shirt down and flops into the chair, taking another slog of his drink. It’s almost gone already, and he’s sure to be feeling it soon.

“Absolutely tickled,” Verda says primly.

“Oh, completely,” Poname chimes in.

“Wouldn’t mind seeing him again,” Mason rumbles, and Chase’s eyes flick to him for a split second, dark and sparking, brows quirked. Nate sighs audibly.

“Well, are you going to tell the story too?” Verda presses. “Share with the class?”

Chase drops into his chair and kicks his feet up again, and Poname makes a vague sound of protest. This time, at least, a sharp glare shuts her up. “Might as fuckin’ well, right?” he snorts. “So, I had this ex in college--”

Both Verda and Poname make strange noises, and when Mason spares them a glance (still a bit caught up in eyeballing the detective’s lounging about like a lazy cat-- which is oddly appropriate, all things considered) they are both looking somewhere between annoyed and downright angry. Chase actually looks… guilty, for a split second, before he waves it away and continues.

“Anyway. He wasn’t, uh… Very good in bed. But I loved him or some nonsense,” he scoffs and gestures vaguely with his glass, “so I put up with it. Because I couldn’t tell him he hadn’t gotten me off to his face, right? He was a sex god, according to him, always hit the marks,” he takes a sip and snorts a bit into his drink. Verda barks out a sharp, sudden laugh that seems to startle even him.

“He did not say that! Chase, please tell me he didn’t say that to you!” he squeaks out between ragged, uncontrollable laughter.

Poname is collapsing against Nate’s side, consumed by a fit of wheezing giggles.

Chase rubs a hand down his face and huffs out a laugh of his own. “He fucking did and I have to live with the fact that I continued to sleep with him after that, every day for the rest of my life. Point is, after a lot of general university stress, I got tired of faking orgasms to save his ego, and I finally told him he hadn’t gotten me off once since we’d started dating. Crushed him, of course, and we did break up for a bit because of it. And in the interim, I thought it’d be a good idea, to, ah, ensure that the next one wouldn’t be so… lost. I had a bit of liquid courage, lied admirably to my favorite tattoo artist when she asked if I was sober, and King Kitty was born. Then when I inevitably made the bad decision to get back with my ex, the next time we tumbled into bed, I just pointed at the instructions and told him to get to work.”

He finishes off his drink, puts his foot back on the ground with a heavy clunk, and leans his elbows on the table. “Turns out, he worked best when I was a bit mean to him. Apparently it’s a thing he wasn’t aware of. Go figure.”

“Christ, no wonder he only bothers you more when you’re a prick to him,” Verda scoffs with a hearty roll of his eyes. “You’ve trained it into him!”

"That is… quite the tale," Nate offers magnanimously, eyebrows threatening to make a break for his hairline. He looks to Adam, who is looking away and trying very hard to pretend he wasn't listening at all. Mason gets the idea he knows well enough that if he opens his mouth, what comes out is likely to piss off their dear detective.

Felix about falls over cackling, which is a fine distraction for Mason to lean in close, snagging Chase's attention and murmuring, "Wouldn't mind you bossing me around a bit," with a sly little smirk.

The look Chase gives him is dry as a fucking desert, but his eyes are crinkled at the corners. "You have proved on multiple occasions that you absolutely do mind," he fires back.

And that's what delights him about the detective, he thinks. He's sharp-tongued, and he doesn't try to dull it. Prickly, but clever, unafraid to say what's on his mind. And he's never once rebuffed Mason's advances outright, just… Spiked them back with sly smirks and raised eyebrows. Challenging, a sort of unspoken, "Oh, so you think you can handle me?"

Mason would very, very much like to handle him.

"Well, I think I'd be a lot more willing to follow orders if less clothes were involved," he slyly remarks, and Chase's dark eyes brighten just a bit.

“You have to earn that privilege, pretty boy," he murmurs, lips curling on one side.

Mason is a breath away from leaning closer, when Verda's phone goes off and he stands up, startled, and bumps the table. Mason has to snap one hand out to grab Chase's empty glass before it goes careening to the floor. Poname looks a bit astounded by his (far too fast) reflexes, but she's also more than a bit foggy with liquor and likely to forget quickly.

"Shit, sorry," Verda offers sluggishly, blinking a bit behind his smart browline spectacles. "That's Eric," he explains, grabbing his coat. He's steadier than Poname, but not by much, and he leans heavily on Chase's chair when he bends to press a kiss to his bristly scalp. "Come on, you reprobate. Time to get you home." Chase grumbles and halfheartedly swats at him, a bit of red creeping up to his ears from beneath his high collar. “You too, Tina!” Verda calls, “Leave the poor man alone, would you?"

Poname, who was beginning to list against a somewhat bemused Nate's shoulder, sits bolt upright and blinks, then pouts a bit. "Hm? Oh… okay." She pushes unsteadily to her feet, helped in no small part by a few gentle nudges from Nate, and she turns to give him a giggle and a wiggly-fingered wave before Verda’s put-upon sigh spurs her to totter towards him. Adam watches her go, making a face he likely thinks is impassive, but Mason knows well enough the tense pucker between his eyebrows and the grim tightness around his mouth.

“Remember what I said,” Chase offers, heaving to his feet with a low groan that immediately drags Mason’s attention from Adam’s silent simmering, grabbing his jacket from the chair and slinging it over his shoulders. “Not a word to Rebecca about any of this.” He gives Adam a long look in particular. “My options are limited in terms of retaliation, but I can be pretty damned creative. Don’t test me.” His eyes flicker almost instinctively to Mason, and his lips twitch, but he says nothing more before he swaggers with surprising steadiness after his coworkers.

“Bye, Detective!” Felix hollers, waving enthusiastically. Mason winces, but comforts himself with staring unabashedly at the detective’s retreating backside. The second he’s out the door, Felix rounds on Adam with a bright laugh. “Look at you! You managed to be in the same room as the Detective and you didn’t get into a fight!”

“Because he kept his mouth shut the entire time,” Mason snickers. “Looked like it was killing you not to talk shit.”

“I don’t talk shit,” Adam snaps, and Nate helpfully slides out of the booth so he can escape as well. “I just point out when the Detective is being…”

Mason raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to come up with a word that’s not an insult.

“Difficult,” is what Adam settles on, giving Nate a sidelong look.

“Oh, yeah, you wouldn’t know anything about being difficult,” Felix chimes in helpfully. Adam scowls at him and adjusts his jacket. Nate is clearly trying not to laugh and make Adam even more annoyed.

“You’re the one who felt the need to hassle the detective on his off time,” Mason hums not-so-helpfully. “Can’t blame him for being annoyed.”

“And you can’t say anything either,” Felix chirps, “Since you just went right along with it.” He’s grinning, wide and wicked, and he sways into Mason's space and gets shoved for his trouble. He totters dramatically for a second, then pops back up and snickers. "You're not as smooth as you think," he taunts. "I saw your eyes almost pop out of your skull when you saw those tattoos!"

Mason shoves him again, and Nate chuckles. "There were a lot more than I would have guessed."

"And I bet there's a lot more where we couldn't see," Felix adds, sticking his tongue between his teeth and waggling his eyebrows. Mason glances around the bar, the crowd having thinned in the last half hour or so, and decides he can get away with putting the little brat in a headlock.

Nate sighs at them. Adam rolls his eyes skyward, but they let Felix flail and squawk for a bit before Adam barks out, “Enough!” and Mason obediently releases him so he can tug his fancy scarf forcefully back into place and adjust his beanie. “Let’s just go.”

“This was nice, wasn’t it?” Nate offers with a bit of genuine cheer as they file out the door and leave the bar behind. “Getting out? Talking to people?” He nudges Adam when he doesn’t respond, and gets a faint grunt for his trouble. “Seeing the sights?”

Mason lights up the second they’re outside, inhales, and exhales a long plume of smoke, and smirks a bit around the filter. “I enjoyed the sights, at least.”

“I had fun!” Felix chirps, having already moved on from Mason’s rough treatment. “We should spend more time with the detective outside work stuff. He’s cool when he’s not all--” He makes a face, stiff and frowning with a crinkled brow, that looks pretty damned similar to the face he makes when he’s mocking their illustrious leader. Mason almost bites down on the filter of his cigarette to stifle a laugh.

“It was nice to see him unwind a bit,” Nate chuckles. “His friends seem… fun,” his mouth quirks a bit, somewhat uncomfortably, “Friendly.”

Adam makes a disgruntled noise. “Too friendly,” he mutters. Mason is about to lose the fight with himself and start snickering.

Ah, hell, he can’t resist. “I dunno, I think Natey might have a chance with the Bobblehead.” The look Adam gives him could kill a lesser man, but he just gives a lopsided grin in return. Felix, however, loses it to the point he almost falls over in the street.

Nate, ever the diplomat, just chuckles a bit and says, “Officer Poname is lovely, but she’s a bit… young for me, I think.”

Yeah, about eight-hundred-something years too young, Mason thinks, rolling his eyes. But, unlike Felix, he’s made it a point not to get involved in the love lives of people he’s got to work with. He’s already got his hands full trying to figure out the detective. Though, he supposes, he’s got to work with the detective, too. On a more permanent basis, now, it seems. But Chase is a lot of things-- stubborn, headstrong, blunt and honest-- but he’s not the type to let a bit of fun get in the way of his job, and neither is Mason. The second they stop dancing around each other, Mason will lay it out plain for him, and if he’s not on board with a bit of fun between co-workers, then that’s it. No problems.

He takes another puff of his smoke and lets the others get ahead of him, Felix still chattering happily and Nate fielding it with his usual calm enthusiasm while Adam manages to both sulk and stalk admirably alongside them both. Their voices fade into the background, and he allows himself a private little smirk, thinking about those fierce dark eyes, that stout, compactly muscled body with its bold ink, and privately wonders how much more is hidden under the detective’s clothes, and the best way to see them all.

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thebmatt · 3 years ago

Text

FFXIV Write 2021 Prompt #26 - Free Day!

Herein I commit the chronicle of the Traveler. Shepherd to the starts in the dark.

Thought the world be sundered and our souls set adrift, where you walk, my dear friend, fate shall surely follow.

For yours is the Fourteenth Seat – The seat of Azem.

Rheika held the orange crystal before her as the golden light sunburst pattern shimmered and shined on the floor of the Tower’s throne room. Four circles of white light were formed at the edge of the sunburst, two on either side of her, one before, the last behind.

Franks looked around at the spectacle. “Uh…Rheika? How are you doing this?”

“Don’t think it’s her. It’s that crystal she found…the one that mighta belonged to her” Dahkar hadn’t taken his eyes off Elidibus since his transformation into the Warrior of Light. His greatsword was drawn.

“He’s right. If Elidibus is gonna summon people to empower him, I figure it’s only right we bring in a little help of our own!” Rheika said, smirking.

She pressed the crystal to her breast, and columns of light erupted from the circles, empowered version of the very summoning circles G’raha had used to bring aid to her during her battle against Emet-Selch.

The Warrior of Light, Elidibus, stared at her in wonder. “An invocation of eld…thought not of Hydaelyn’s making….what ARE you?”

Rheika started to think of a smartass remark to throw at him, but before she could, he continued. “No-it matters not! You are the enemy, and you will fall! Even should it cost me everything, I will not forsake my duty!”

He lifted his sword to the heavens, and a pillar of light of his own flashed into and out of existence. “For my people-for our world, I will strike you down!

The team drew their weapons as the columns faded, revealing four people. In front of Rheika stood a raven-haired elezen dressed in the gleaming armor of a paladin. “Well, well. Not sure how you all called us here, but it seems like this is a problem we can certainly do something about.” Her voice was refined and smooth, more akin to an Ishgardian than a Gridanian. She turned to look behind her. “So who exactly- What the HELLS?”

The others all recoiled slightly, startled.

The Elezen looked over to the people to their left and right. Rheika naturally followed her gaze. “Holy…shite…”

Standing to her left was….herself…clad in the garb of a Thavnairian dancer, carrying weapons she immediately recognized as the chakrams Fearless made use of as a dancer herself.

To her right was….another Fearless that had the familiar teal undercut hairstyle, but was clad in black robes and wielding a thuamaturge’s staff.

The two of them were staring at their counterparts in open shock. The other Rheika was the first to speak. “Are you…me? Damn, that is awesome. Stuck to the bow, did you? This is trippy. Holy shit, Syhrwyda, check it out, they have a you! Damn, black hair is a good look on you, girl!” Her voice mirrored Rheika’s own, though slightly raspy.

Fearless turned to look at her counterpart. “Did you say….Syhrwyda?”

Her counterpart looked confused. “What…is that not your name?”

“Class 12 aetherial deiform entity present! I suggest we table this discussion and initiate anti-eikon combat procedures first and deal with the cosmological implications of this after! Unless you all would prefer this thing destroy us?”

The new speaker’s voice was clipped and precise, almost…imperial. The four Warriors in the middle turned. A midlander with sandy blonde hair, carrying an Machinist’s weapon and aetherotransformer stood there, holographic screens deployed in front of him as he read the data that scrolled across them. Though he wore goggles, all of them could clearly see no third eye in the center of his forehead.

A conscript? No he’s right, fight now, talk later.

Dahkar strode in front of Rheika to stand next to the Elezen woman. He looked over at her. “Dahkar Darkspear.”

She smiled, shield raised. “Veilette de Liis. That’s a big sword for someone named Darkspear” she said with a slight teasing lilt.

Rheika reached her mind into the Armory, finding her Ninja soul crystal there and quickly re-established her connection to it. With a quick *pop*, she was glad in her shinobi uniform, twin daggers in hand. “Franks, Fearless?”

“We’ve got the healing, Rheika” Franks said from behind her as two more *pops* sounded behind her, followed by Frank’s fae companion winking into existence.

Elidibus raised his sword, and moved to attack.

Rheika thought Hades had been the toughest battle that they had ever fought.

Elidibus put lie to that statement.

He was every fighting discipline they group had ever seen in one massive primal. Swordplay, thaumaturgy, summoning, he threw all of it at them and more. What was worse, he kept bringing more of those spectres into the fight to help him.

Luckily, the allies she’d summoned with Azem’s crystal were every bit her group’s equal. More than once she’d had to remind herself to stop staring at her counterpart whirling and dashing around the battlefield, constantly throwing and catching her chakrams, using the magic of the Kreigstanz to empower them all. She’d seen Fearless do this more than once, but watching herself do it was…amazing.

Didn’t help that she now knew that she looked really hot in the outfit, either.

Fearless’ counterpart was a terror, herself. Elidibus’ magic might have been devastating, but he was an Ascian, or a primal, or…..well, both, she supposed. Other-Fearless was a mortal, and the devastation she struck him with, massive explosions of flame and boulders of ice, even calling an explosion of pure void energy into existence. More than once she spotted her Fearless watching her in wonder….and the Other-Fearless admiring her mastery of Astrology. Dahkar and Veilette worked in perfect synchronicity, back and forth trading the deflection of blows dealt by the Warrior and harrying him from multiple angles.

In the end, he’d fallen. And when he didn’t stay down, G’raha had sprung his trap, wielding the massive energy of the Crystal Tower to contain Elidibus’ soul…and disintegrate it.

She had given back the Convocation’s soul crystals to the echo of the real Elidibus that remained. He deserved to bid farewell to his friends, one last time, before he too was reduced to aetheric dust, leaving behind the soul vessel he’d taken.

Luckily she had picked it up, for the strain of destroying the final Unsundered had proven too much for the Exarch’s body, which was slowly growing more crystalline. But he’d transferred his soul into the vessel , asking her to take it back to his original body. She’d agreed, and he’d become a sentinel, standing atop the tower on the First until…well probably forever, unless something catastrophic happened.

She hugged her friends, her sister and brothers, then turned to the foursome she’d brought here. “Thank you.”

Other-Rheika ran and jumped into her arms. “No sweat! It’s what we do after all!” Rheika hugged her back, adamantly refusing to let her hands wander, but damn, is this what other people felt like when they hugged her. Cause it was nice.

Her counterpart pulled back. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking”

“That I’m suddenly extremely tempted to explore a new and intriguing meaning of the phrase ‘go fuck yourself’? Yeah, more than just a little.”

She giggled. “Oh, it’s very tempting. But if this works like how it did with G’raha did it for us when we fought Emet, I’m guessing we don’t have that long before we go back home. Plus….I don’t think I could do that to Moen and Uri. I mean they’d probably understand, but it feels wrong, you know?”

Rheika looked at her in shock. “Did…did you say Moen? As in Moenbryda? She’s alive in your universe?”

“Yes? Oh fuck, did you lose her? I’m so sorry!”

“She died making sure Nabriales was felled. Used all her aether to make a blade of light strong enough to destroy him. I didn’t even get to know her that well.”

Other-Rheika hugged her again. “Fuck. We all managed to make it to her in time. Between the four of us, we had more than enough spare aether to do it. We’ve become….really close, and through her I got closer to Uri, too. We….we’re really in love. I haven’t felt anything like it with anyone else, really. Wasn’t sure I could for a while. But I guess you know what that’s like, right?”

Rheika shook her head. “I don’t, actually. I’m aromantic. Sounds like you’re demi, I’m guessing?”

“No shit? Huh. Guess we’re not exactly alike.”

“Yeah, I’m not trained in the Kriegstanz either, for another. Now I wanna be though!”

“Really? So what else do you know?”

While the pair of Miqo’te had been talking, Fearless had approached her own counterpart. “So….Syhrwyda? Guessing you had better luck than I did in the parents department?” she asked, sadly.

Syhrwyda shook her head. “By that tone of voice, I’m guessing we both had shite experiences. Mine always demeaned me until they decided I was useless as anything but marriage collateral. I fled, stowed away in a merchant caravan until I ended up in Ul’dah”

Fearless nodded, smiling as she did “Yeah, same here actually, except I ended up in Limsa. Decided I didn’t want any part of them in my life anymore, so I changed my name to just go by the translation. Got father’s name away from me and if they came looking, well, no one would know who ‘Syhrwyda’ was. It worked for a while, at least.”

Syhywyda chuckled. “Smart, that never even occurred to me. I got taken in by a Hellsguard, a captain in the Flames. I think he saw how lost I was and took pity on me. He…treated me like I was his own daughter. Made sure I knew how to make it out there, life lessons my…that they never bothered to teach me. I owe him more than I can ever pay back. So one day, same day I got accepted to the Thaumaturge’s Guild I came home and gave him a copy of my new identification papers….changed my last name to Saztiwilfwyn. Never saw him cry so much, but we were both real happy.”

“Did they ever come lookin’ for you?”

As the duo continued, Dahkar and Franks walked over the Veilette, who was speaking with the hyur. As they approached, she smiled and walked over to greet them. “You boys fought well, not that I expected you wouldn’t. I imagine you have to, tryin to keep up with your own Rheika and Syhrwyda over there.” She nodded in their general direction.

Dahkar laughed. “We do our best.”

Franks likewise chuckled, then extended a hand to her “Aleister Franks. Pleasure.”

She took it, shaking with a firm grip. “Veilette de Liis”

“….why does that name sound familiar…wait, Dahkar, didn’t we fight Hades alongside someone with that name?”

His eyes opened wide. “THAT’S why it sounded so familiar! But…well she didn’t look anything like you. Dark blue skin, purple and red hair, punched like a freaking battering ram, and she was from the Shroud. Your accent…I’m guessing Ishgardian?”

Veilette nodded. “Formerly, at least, my family got exiled and lives in Ul’dah now. Part political maneuvering by the Dzmaels that we didn’t foresee, part discrimination because, well, we might not look it, but we’re Duskwrights and we’ve always faced some semblance of discrimination over it. Not ‘proper’ Ishgardians or some such tripe. Sounds like that other Veilette and I share a love of punching people though. Was she trained in the Rhalgr’s Fist style too?”

Franks shrugged. “No idea, we didn’t get to talk to her that much, and none of us are trained in it ourselves, so we wouldn’t have recognizes it”

Dahkar looked past her to the hyur, who was ignoring the conversation in favor of meticulously inspecting his equipment. “Uh…hey, man. Just wanted to say thank you for the help”

Veilette intervened “Ah, don’t mind him. That’s B. Short for Brorthon, but we all just call him B out of habit at this point. Tripped over his name a few too many times. He’s not rude on purpose, he’s just…been through things and isn’t good with people he doesn’t know well. He’s from Dalmasca, but they conscripted him into their schools when they conquered the place. Discovered he’s a magitek prodigy, so they basically tried to erase his whole past. Got ‘adopted’ by an Imperial family who basically brainwashed him into forgetting a lot of his past. He got out when a couple of other prisoners escaped and came to the Shroud, but the pursuers killed a woman he was close to during the getaway. He’s….been wary of getting close with anyone ever since. Absolute genius with magitek, and fights like hell with a gunblade, but…yeah. “

Franks nodded. “I’m something of a magitek user myself. You think I could try…”

Veilette held up a hand, shaking her head. “I’ve no doubt you could, given time, but I think I feel the spell’s hold on us fading, and I’d rather not agitate him.”

Franks stepped back. “I understand.”

Dahkar threw a salute her way. “Good luck back there.”

She smiled. “You as well!” Then she turned to the others. “Hey, you two! Finish up, I think we’re heading home soon!”

The two Roegadyn women exchanged hugs before Syhrwyda walked over to her friends’ sides. The two Rheikas did likewise.

“You sure you don’t wanna try a kiss before you go?”

The Rheika in the dancer’s costume giggled. “Bye, sweetie. Take care of those guys. I can tell by the way you carry yourself you’re the leader of em. Another difference between us, I don’t think I’ve got that in me.”

Rheik really wanted to offer some encouragement about that, but there wasn’t time, as the four summoned Warriors of Light began glowing. Their Rheika and Syhrwyda reached their companions and each took a hand of the other two (forcibly in B’s case). Pillars of light erupted from the ground, and the group was gone.

Rheika turned to Franks. “Any luck on doing that whole universe jumping thing?”

He laughed. “Not hardly, not sense I got us all here anyway. I think that’s pretty amazing.”

“Yeah yeah. I wanna visit their universe, though.”

Dahkar elbowed her. “You just want to watch yourself with Moenbryda and Urianger.”

She blushed. “You uh…you heard that, huh?”

Fearless put a hand on her shoulder. “You….weren’t exactly quiet, hon. Either of you.”

Rheika covered her face with her hands. “Uuuugh, okay look, maybe you’re right, let’s keep this to ourselves. I can hear the others coming, we’ve got some explaining to do, so let’s leave that part out. Kay? Kay”

The others chuckled, but also added their assent.

They all turned at the sound of the Scions approaching from within the tower.

It turned out they didn’t need to explain much at all. At least not right away. The sight of the Exarch converted and Elidibus gone definitely spoke volumes.

#Final Fantasy XIV #FFXIV 2021 Writing Challenge #Rheika Aliapoh #Dahkar Darkspear #Aleister Franks #oldmanfranks #Fearless Willow #Other Scions from the multiverse

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lifeofclonewars · 4 years ago

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Decko and Lies

Part Seven of Pun Wars. As always, can be read alone. And also as always, AO3 link below.

Summary: Before Fives could shift, a wall of plastoid slammed into him. It could only be one thing: his twin.

His strained knee locked, and down he went. His batchmate rolled past him. “Hey, kih’vod,” the traitor said before racing off again.

He groaned. “‘M older than you,” he mumbled.

The ground wasn’t too uncomfortable. He could just stay down here for the next while. It was a better friend than his brother was being.

Rex leaned over him. “I’d ask if that was normal if I didn’t already know it was.” He didn’t look amused.

Fives shrugged as best he could. “I should’ve seen it coming, in all honesty. That’s another batch thing of ours. We didn’t tackle as much until the two of us became ARCs, though, since we can take it better now.”

The captain sighed, muttering something that sounded awfully like, “This is my own fault for insisting I got them instead of Cody.”

In which Echo decks Fives to the ground in the middle of the mess, Fives decides to just lie there afterward, and some troopers have to change their perceptions of the Legion's ARCs.

----

It was an average day in the 501st Legion. Or, what they considered average and not what a civvie or even some other battalions would call average. Between campaigns and in hyperspace, troopers settled into routines and shifts and enjoyed the free time they found.

Echo and Fives, recently returned from a campaign with the 41st, were more beaten up than the rest of their brothers, who were returning from a short shore leave. Echo himself wasn't too bad. Just some bruising and a few scrapes and plenty of sore muscles, but not at all unmanageable. He felt worse during ARC training, quite frankly, and he survived that.

It had only been two days since they went straight from one battle and a short trip on a cruiser to the Resolute headed back out to the Outer Rim and he already felt antsy. Definitely a side effect of being an ARC now — any downtime longer than a day, much needed as it may be, began to feel too long. He couldn’t imagine what being stationed on Rishi would feel like now, as bored as they had all been before that fateful day.

Rolling a stiff shoulder, Echo stood from finishing up his mission report. He needed to do something about this restlessness that was pestering him. A good spar might help, or maybe an overly complicated brain puzzle someone was struggling with, get either his body or his mind working. Luckily, he knew just where to find both.

Exiting the ARC barracks, he headed for Torrent’s. The trip wasn’t long, officer and ARC barracks being far enough for privacy yet close enough to still feel connected to the men and any emergencies that may arise. Stepping inside got him just what he wanted: a handful of off-duty infantrymen arguing over the rules of sabacc while playing what appeared to be a completely different game.

“Echo!” Hardcase perked up from the middle of the circle, effectively silencing the group. “What can we do for you?”

He gave them a half-wave in greeting. “Have you seen Rex or Fives? I have a question for them.”

The heavy-gunner snapped in recognition with his free hand. “They were just in here, actually. Left for the mess not too long ago.”

“I’m kinda surprised you didn’t run into them in the hallway on the walk over here,” Jesse added. “It really wasn’t that long ago, about twelve-forty.”

Echo stifled a laugh. “Jess, it’s thirteen-fifteen.”

The group blinked back at him. For once, silence resounded in the Torrent barracks.

“Have we really been arguing that long?” Ringo asked, eyebrows near his hairline.

“Either that or Jesse forgot how to read a chrono properly,” Echo responded. Jesse put a hand on his chest, sending him a faux-offended look.

“Eh, well, either way, you might still be able to catch them as they leave,” Ringo said.

The ARC shrugged. “Thanks anyway, guys. See you around.”

A chorus of replies followed him through the doors, arguing picking back up before they fully closed again.

The mess, huh? Great. So long as he had the space and Fives was there, Echo knew exactly what he could do, and it wasn’t asking a question. Or, at least, not at first. Plus, he could go for some food right now. It might be contributing to his need to move more than he initially thought. Two jarts, one stone.

Setting off with a purpose, the walk to the mess didn’t take long. Entering, the room wasn’t too crowded, considering the time of day and how the shifts aligned. Fives and Rex were easy enough to spot among the crowd. The duo stood conversing, the captain in an aisle between two rows of seats, the other ARC in the walkway. Their helmets sat on the table next to them, forgotten like the meals a quick glance told him they hadn’t gotten yet.

Rolling his eyes to himself, Echo walked toward the beginning of the aisle Fives stood in. Now, if he started at this exact point... avoided the trash can... attacked from that angle... rolled tightly, so long as nobody walked past, he was good to go. He could continue on and get his food, and, considering how Fives’ stance seemed to be favoring his left leg since it’d only been two days, nobody would or could stop him.

Perfect.

Reaching the first row of tables, he set his feet, shook his arms out, and sprung forward. Grinning to himself as nearby observers vocalized their confusion over his actions, he ran toward the duo. Trash can avoided, he dove, snagging his twin by the waist with his left arm.

Down they both went. Using his momentum, he did a combat roll as planned, popping to his feet. Fives groaning behind him, he said a quick, “Hey, kih’vod,” and took off toward the line at the opposite end of the mess before either man could follow after him.

Yep, that did the trick. He felt much less restless now. And now that he was thinking about it, he really could go for some food. Another successful plan, and, if Echo was being honest with himself, it was retaliation for Fives waking him up by pushing him off his bunk.

Three jarts, one stone.

----

Fives was glad to be back with the 501st after their campaign with the 41st. He had strained his right knee avoiding some droids early into the campaign and, while he could deal with working through the pain because of ARC training, having a medic threaten him to stay off it for a few days was surprisingly refreshing.

Other than that, all he had was some minor bumps and bruises, though Echo certainly was the better off of the two of them. Nothing that could actually stop him from postponing his mission report for a tad longer and talking to Rex. Really, he would get to the paperwork. He just needed to talk to Rex about this next campaign. And training. And how he and Echo have been since they last saw their ori'vod. And whatever else that may spring to mind while they talked.

So when Rex ran into him on his hunt to find the captain, he took the opportunity to do so. Nevermind the fact that they decided to get lunch together after checking in on Torrent and still hadn't gotten the food yet.

“So, is there a reason you’re talking to me about upgrades you and Echo have been working on instead of writing out your mission report?” Rex abruptly changed the subject.

Fives scoffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.”

Rex gave him a pointed look.

“My brain works too fast for my typing skills to keep up?” Which wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t quite the current reason he was avoiding doing his report. “My whole batch had a problem with that, even as our typing speed increased.”

“If that’s so, then why did I just receive a notification saying Echo just sent me his to forward to Cody?” His older brother crossed his arms.

“Ah, you see, that’s one area he has better self-discipline than I do.” He shifted his weight more onto his left leg. Hopefully, that’d help the ache spreading through his strained knee.

The captain rolled his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “As long as you get it to me by the end of the cycle. Was there anything else you wanted to talk to me about?”

Fives clasped his hands together. “Yes, actually. Echo and I were talking about the upcoming campaign, and we had a few ideas that might work.”

“Great, let’s hear them.”

Launching into the strategies they talked through last night, still adjusting to a different sleep cycle, Fives explained multiple possibilities for the legion. They were going to take the planet back, even if it took all of Fives’, Echo’s, and Rex’s combined plans (and Skywalker’s improvised ones) to do it.

Halfway through Plan Ebla, subpoint Holo point six, one of Echo’s, something rushed toward him. Before he could shift, a wall of plastoid slammed into him. It could only be one thing: his twin.

His strained knee locked, and down he went. His batchmate rolled past him. “Hey, kih’vod,” the traitor said before racing off again.

He groaned. “‘M older than you,” he mumbled.

The ground wasn’t too uncomfortable. He could just stay down here for the next while, rest his knee like he should have been. It was a better friend than his brother was being. Though he had a feeling Echo tackled him because he shoved him off the bunk this morning because Echo had slapped him upside the head the night before. Eh, whatever.

Rex leaned over him. “I’d ask if that was normal if I didn’t already know it was.” He didn’t look amused. To be fair, he didn’t look upset either.

Fives shrugged as best he could. “I should’ve seen it coming, in all honesty. That’s another batch thing of ours, though between Echo and Hevy it tended to be more aggressive-aggressive and not just lovingly-aggressive. We didn’t tackle as much until the two of us became ARCs, though, since we can take it better now.”

The captain sighed, muttering something that sounded awfully like, “This is my own fault for insisting I got them instead of Cody.” He held his hand out for Fives. Louder, he said, “You say stuff like that, and every single time, I have to reevaluate the hour or so I knew Hevy. Makes me wish I could’ve gotten to know the other three like I have with you two.”

Fives gave him a weak smile. “Me too, Cap. Though I think you’d have more grey hair if you did.”

The hand fell back to Rex’s side. “Alright, that’s it. Pick yourself up off the ground, trooper. I’m not that much older than you.”

His smile turned into a smirk. “Whatever you say, ori’vod.”

At that point, Echo reappeared, tray in hand. “Hey, get up,” he said, kicking Fives in the ribs.

Fives groaned again, curling in on himself.

Echo scoffed. “Oh, please, I didn’t tackle you or kick you that hard. I know you’ve survived worse.”

“Yeah, like growing up with you. You should respect your elders better.”

Echo kicked him again. He slapped the foot away. “I’m older than you,” his twin had the gall to say.

“No, you aren’t.” The floor really was looking like the better friend at the moment.

Rex cleared his throat, the two of them turning to him. He had crossed his arms again. “Are you two done?”

They glanced at each other. “For now, sir,” they answered in unison.

“Good. Fives, I’m serious, get up or I’ll let Echo or Hardcase pick you up. We really should go and get our food. We’ve been standing and talking for too long, and we need to finish going over those strategies you were telling me about. Preferably not on the floor in front of all the men.”

“You started to go over them without me?” Echo asked, moving away and placing his tray at the table the helmets sat on. Distantly, Fives realized Echo didn’t have his helmet on or on his belt; he must’ve left it in the barracks.

Sitting up, he stated, “I was going to comm you. Eventually,” he quickly added at his fellow ARC’s look. Standing up, he turned toward their older brother. “Okay, Rex, let’s go get some food before Echo decides to punch me again.”

Rex and Echo shared a look. “Lead the way, then.”

Off they went, Echo’s chuckles following them. Yeah, being back with the 501st was always a comfort, being able to slip back into habits and relax from the stress of missions. No matter how many grey hairs they may have already caused Rex.

----

Etch still couldn’t believe he’d been deployed to the 501st battalion with Captain Rex, General Skywalker, and Commander Tano. The 501st! It was a dream come true. One deployment and his first, albeit rather short, leave on Coruscant later, and they were headed out to his first campaign. But they still had a ways to go, traveling through hyperspace for the next day or so. Nobody ever mentioned that even hyperspace travel could take a long time.

Lock and Key, two of his new squadmates who were batchmates, sat next to him in the mess. Etch’s own batchmate was off doing who-knew-what with the rest of their squad. Probably exploring the ship — the Resolute, he still couldn’t believe it. If he wasn’t so hungry, he’d be with them.

Lock tugged on a bit of exposed blacks between his armor. Looking up from the (still as bland as Kamino) food, he asked, “What?”

Instead of answering, he pointed ahead and to their right.

“Captain Rex and ARC Trooper Fives!” Key exclaimed. “Wow! I didn’t think we’d see Captain Rex again until maybe training or the campaign or something. I haven’t really seen him since he welcomed us on board.”

They weren’t part of Torrent Company, which was apparently the Captain’s personal Company. Not that they expected to be put there right from Kamino. The Captain spent a lot of time with Torrent when he wasn’t running the rest of the Legion or doing something with their Jedi. For now, they’d only seen him supervising their training, which Sergeant Pry ran, and giving orders during their first deployment. Other than that, orders had come from a Lieutenant or Sergeant Pry, and they hadn’t been able to catch a glimpse of the Captain in the downtime they were beginning to suspect he didn’t have much of.

“When did the ARCs get back? I heard they were on a mission with a different battalion and that’s why they weren’t there when we arrived and the officers were introduced to us or on the deployment,” Etch asked.

Lock shrugged.

“I don’t know, but I frankly don’t care,” Key stated. “Did you hear that ARC Fives once ripped a droid’s head off with his bare hands— ”

“I thought that was the Captain that did that.”

“— and another time he took down a Seppie base with nothing but a single detonator, a vibroblade, and his dual pistols while ARC Echo sliced into the base from a safe distance and gathered a bucketload of information that saved us a base or two? Or how one time ARC Echo faced down a whole droid platoon with an injured and unconscious ARC Fives on his back and came out with only a twisted ankle?”

“Wow.”

“I know, right?”

Lock nodded in agreement.

“Actually,” Etch began, “I heard you know ARC Trooper Fives considers you a friend if he punches you. That’s so weird, but, like, now I wanna see it happen, you know?”

Key furrowed his brows. “He does?”

“Yeah! It’s like how Sergeant Pry keeps patting us on the back and nudging us when we do something good, except ARC-levels of roughness or something. Now that there aren’t any kaminiise around, I’ve noticed everyone’s more open about doing that stuff. ‘Parently, the General’s okay with it, hasn’t sent anyone back for it.”

Lock and Key both had wide eyes. “That’s amazing.”

“Yeah, it is. Also, I heard that ARC Trooper Echo punches ARC Trooper Fives back in retaliation. But he doesn’t start it, as far as I’ve heard. I also heard they’re batchmates, that’s why they work so well together. Like, ARC Trooper Echo’s the brains most of the time and ARC Trooper Fives is the brawn, even though they can easily switch roles if they want to since they’re ARCs and all that. They just know what the other’s gonna do.”

“Chip told me that Twos told him that Flopper told him that Zeck told him that he heard they were twins and when he asked them, they said ‘maybe’ in unison and didn’t say anything else on the topic.”

Wait, look, Lock signed. There’s ARC Echo. He pointed at the entrance of the mess.

“Holy kriff, he’s here to talk to the other two, isn’t he? Do ya think if we get closer, we can hear what they’re talking about?”

“You mean eavesdropping on our superiors?” Key looked scandalized. He paused. “Count me in.”

Just then, ARC Trooper Echo broke out into a run. Etch stood to his feet. Why was he running? Was something bad happening or about to happen that he didn’t notice? “What —”

The ARC Troopers collided, flying to the ground. ARC Trooper Echo rolled, stood up, stated, “Hey, kih’vod,” and continued on his way. ARC Trooper Fives stayed on the ground, groaning. “‘M older than you,” he mumbled to the empty air.

As the Captain leaned over his ARC, Etch, Lock, and Key stared at each other. “I think something we heard was wrong,” Etch murmured.

Lock and Key merely nodded at him.

“Maybe we shouldn’t believe everything we hear about them.”

They continued to watch as ARC Trooper Fives stayed on the ground, conversing with the Captain. Soon enough, the other ARC headed over and kicked his brother. Once again, the trio shared shocked looks, unprepared for this development, almost missing the wack back ARC Trooper Echo received. Captain Rex, though sounding exasperated with what they could catch, looked… was that fond?

This was not how Etch thought his meal would go.

As ARC Trooper Fives and Captain Rex went off to get food, Etch’s batchmate, Chip, ran over.

“Where’d you come from? I didn’t see you enter the mess.”

“A cloning vat, thank you very much,” Chip replied. “I have more news!”

The trio leaned in, eager to learn more.

“I heard from Dean, who heard from Flopper, who heard from Feedback, who heard from Oz, who’s in Torrent Company that both ARC Trooper Fives and Echo once saved Captain Rex and Commander Cody from a Seppie base after they’d been captured with only a ten-minute window, a handful of droid poppers, and their normal gear, and against a whole fifteen rollies! They made it back to the rendezvous with four minutes to spare and Captain Rex took down three of them himself while midair and Commander Cody punched one to bits…”

And just like that, the group of barely-not-shinies forgot the lesson they just learned, getting swept up in stories and rumors of their commanding officers. Well, shinies are gonna shiny, after all. They’d have the lesson they learned that day knocked into their heads permanently in a month or so, once the shininess completely wore off. All in good time.

----

Jart: Bird native to Ryloth

Kih’vod: Little brother

Ori’vod: Big brother

Kaminiise: Kaminoans

This was longer than I initially planned lol. Still shorter than my writing tends to get. Anyway, here's the first post of break! Hopefully, I will get to both Beginn and WK within the next two weeks I have of break. If not, Happy Holidays! Also, apparently, I'm incapable of writing any of Domino Squad without mentioning the rest of them now. *shrugs* I'm not sorry.

Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment or send me an ask or message

#b writes #pun wars #arc trooper echo #arc trooper fives #captain rex #clone wars #star wars #star wars clone wars #sw: tcw #sw: cw #echo #fives #domino twins #writing

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mychildrenneedwine · 4 years ago

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I’ve been wanting to read more film-philosophy this summer, especially articles. I want to feel out how this approach gets applied on a smaller and more concrete scale, close conversations with particular films or particular images. I find my ideas get lost in their generality and have a hard time coming back down to specific encounters with film. Reading the latest volume of Film-Philosophy, I seemed to hear an echo of this concern.

There are three featured articles, and the first two are heavy hitters: Jeff Fort’s essay attempts to re-read Bazin’s entire ontology (I’ve only read the abstract on this one, but it sounds very promising), and Jiri Anger develops an elegant account of ‘accidental aesthetics’ within the context of new digital technologies interacting with the materiality of filmstock. Both are grappling with film’s ontology, and both are trying to develop new ideas in relation to old traditions. Then, there’s the third article, by Silvia Angeli and Francesco Sticchi. At first glance, it seems far humbler in scope, simply applying concepts form the good old Deleuze/Guattari toolbox to a couple of European arthouse films. But there’s a germ of an idea nestled in this seemingly simple textual analysis, which might too easily be dismissed as a mere application of philosophical concepts to some films, and this idea interests me.

The idea has to do with how we experience a film, and, while it gets expressed succinctly at a few points within the article, it never seems to move to the foreground and become the point of what we’re reading. Textual analysis always occupies this centrality, and the notion of experience merely hovers around this analysis. Maybe the idea isn’t foregrounded because it’s been developed elsewhere, or maybe its significance is meant to be obvious. Whatever the reason, I want to foreground the idea for myself, if only to get a better grasp on it, to work through what it might mean for the film-philosophy relation.

The article looks at two films with explicitly Christian themes, Moretti’s We Have a Pope and Rohrwacher’s exquisite debut Corpo Celeste. It applies the concept of a ‘line of flight’ to these two films in order to argue that each film ruptures with itself, opening up a line of flight that allows it to produce change and move in new directions. Because of each film’s theological themes, these lines of flight are seen as challenges to established traditions of understanding reality. So far so good. We have films that play with thematic preoccupations, and they seem to be leveling critiques or advancing a worldview. Good for them. But the idea of experience that the article wraps around this account seems to push these films past merely representing a pattern of thought. These films also provide viewers with the experience of these ideas, they “allow the audience to experience a major problematization of the institutions surrounding the two main characters” (4). This emphasis on experience seems to link the lines of flight that exist within each film’s formal construction with the viewer, putting that viewer through the very process of these lines of flight.

This idea might sound trivial, but it strikes me as a fundamental part of the film-philosophy relation. We experience films; they are objects of sensation that carry us through an (often-times) allotted unit of experience. This motivates some of my interest in the connections between viewership and ritual, but here I’m more interested in how this frames film as a specific kind of object, one that does things and takes us places.

At this point, my mind jumps to Sarah Ahmed’s Queer Phenomenology, which I read recently and will doubtlessly misremember here. But what brings me back to this text is her interest in objects that can take us places, specifically ones that can pull us into new directions. She talks about how queer objects can manage such a pull. What makes these objects queer isn’t so much the objects themselves. Rather, it’s about our reaction to an encounter with these objects, which itself has to do with how we’re oriented toward them, and how this can give them a queer quality. Basically, a queer object is one that manages to pull us off the ‘straight line’ at the moment of encounter. In a simple sense, this is a process of estrangement, of suddenly noticing how everything we take for granted is in fact ordered in a specific way, rather than simply being given naturally. When something, an object, is out of place, we tend to rearrange it into place, to pull it in-line. But the out-of-place object also has the ability to reverse this process, pulling us off-line by making us suddenly aware of the strangeness within the order we intuitively maintain. Now, none of this sounds very queer, not yet. But, for Ahmed, these seemingly natural arrangements of objects in space are often constructed around heteronormative assumptions, which subtly reinforce the naturalness of such heteronormativity through arranging our bodies in particular ways around such objects.

As the title of her book evokes, Ahmed gets the notion of a ‘straight line’ from phenomenology, specifically Merleau-Ponty’s Phenomenology of Perception. This line actually starts out as an issue of perception, with Merleau-Ponty’s observations about how we tend to straighten our perception along a vertical axis in order to bring order to that perception. From there, Ahmed develops an entire analysis of how this process of alignment continues throughout other facets of experience. The family unit, with its basis in an assumed heterosexual line of procreation and continuance, structures much of this cultural alignment process. So, we’re in-line when we’re experiencing reality from the starting point of – and moving along the trajectory of – heteronormative reproduction. Anything that takes us off this trajectory, even for a moment, pulls us off-line.

Film can be such a queer object, without a doubt. I still remember noticing Steve McQueen’s ass, in pristine white pants, from The Sand Pebbles. That was a sudden encounter, somewhere in the nebulous mire of middle school, that could be said to have pulled me off-line, if only briefly. The pull of desire is just that, a pull. It opens up new trajectories, sometimes followed and sometimes not. However, this would be an account of film as a kind of brute queer object, something that evokes a sudden response to singular moment of encounter. But the way that films take us through an experience with their structure, as touched upon by Angeli and Sticchi, is more complex than this. It takes into account the formal properties of the film and, more importantly, how they interact to create a more prolonged experience. When I think of films that could be thought of as queer objects in this way, my mind turns to Claire Denis and Beau Travail.

The main conflict is between Galoup, a French Legionnaire of some mid-range stature, and one of his soldiers, Sentain. The nature of the conflict remains ambiguous throughout the entire film, but it’s interesting that Galoup feels this conflict immediately after his first encounter with Sentain. Sentain sticks out to him, and Galoup then talks about a ‘vague and menacing’ feeling that takes hold, which will drive his obsessive resistance to Sentain for the rest of film. But what’s really at the root of this feeling, so suddenly evoked? Given the way Denis films the sensual rhythms of male bodies, a homoerotic tension is clearly foregrounded, but there appears to be something more to it than that.

Ahmed’s notion of being pulled off-line comes with the complementary idea of being maintained on-line. She talks of ‘straightening devices’ that function somewhat in opposition to queer objects. Such devices work to keep us on the straight line by both maintaining our on-line position and erasing off-line alternatives. In Beau Travail, Galoup seems to take on the function of an ever-active straightening device. His role is to train the troops and keep them ready for combat. As such, he is constantly ordering and structuring their bodies according to his regiment. He leads them through single file runs across the deserts, and he makes sure the pleated lines of their uniforms are ironed to perfection. In one particularly intense scene, he leads his men in a push-up routine that repeatedly maintains their bodily alignment to a simple up/down momentum. So, Galoup literally keeps his men in line. While this process seems to serve a merely military function, the film works to infuse this military context with a constant sexual tension. This tension reimagines the military apparatus as a sexual one, and Galoup’s functional straightening begins to be seen in a different light.

Sentain’s arrival seems to pull Galoup off-line, creating the vague and menacing feeling. But instead of becoming a story about a man who can’t handle his homosexual desire, the film’s form makes it more of an investigation into the failure of the straightening process. Ahmed stresses that the process of maintaining straightness comes at a cost, the cost of systematic denial (some big and some small). Here, it’s helpful to remember that the film is told retrospectively, from Galoup’s memory. What’s interesting to me is how the film differs so much from the rigid linearity of Galoup as straightening device. Denis films male bodies from every angle imaginable, constantly adopting new orientations of vision that work to create potentially threatening positions. The film is always looking through new angles to see what might pull things off the straight line, while Galoup is fighting to maintain this very same line. It’s as if we’re seeing Galoup’s work in the state of orientational flux that Sentain’s pull of desire causes, a state that he distinctly remembers. This is the tension of the film, and it constantly works to pull us off-line, while producing a narrative about the failure of the straightening process.

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So, along our initial lines, Beau Travail gives us an experience of being pulled off-line. This isn’t the kind of accidental experience that The Sand Pebbles gave me, but rather an experience designed into the form of the film. The question then becomes: what does this experience amount to? Is Beau Travail just a handy example of ideas articulated by Sarah Ahmed? It seems to me that focusing on experience takes the film in a different direction than this reduction. There’s a difference between reading and understanding the logic of Ahmed’s idea of being pulled off-line, on the one hand, and actually being pulled off-line, on the other hand. Beau Travail gives us the experience of Ahmed’s idea, rather than trying to articulate it. How significant is this observation? I’m not sure yet, but it does highlight one of film’s interesting philosophical capabilities. What I like is that it takes us away from ideas of ‘cinematic thought,’ pulling us instead toward an understanding of the thoughtfulness of cinematic experience.

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leo-interactive-fiction · 5 years ago

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Can you tell us some little facts or give a lil description about the new side characters?

Sure! Let’s see, I’ll start with dorm Card. This dorm is comprised of a varying cast of characters with names that relate them to a deck of cards! Why? I just thought it was cool and fun haha.

Uno: See below.

Juno Winter: A no-nonsense female student with an authoritative air. In her short bill military cap she hides olive colored hair, marking her a member of Frenza. The peacekeeper of her team, she is particularly adept at incapacitating with an extendable baton, the likes of which she sometimes uses to pacify fights between members of her own team. . When she takes off her cap and lets down her hair, her personality shifts and becomes much more erratic and refers to herself as Juno Summer. Her combat style turns altogether more feral in this state, disregarding her weapon to using her hands and nails to press an advantage. She is considered the fourth most powerful member of the team.

“It is not my intention to bring her out. It is best to keep casualties to a minimum.” “Can you not dodge?! Pathetic! Pathetic! So pathetic! Kahaha!”

Rex: A tacitern swordsman, he has never shared his first name; only ever offering the formal title of Rex. Ambitious, Rex has a warrior’s soul with a flame that will never extinguish. Pushing his bodily limits, he will train until his body fractures or incapacitates itself. Unyielding, once he has set himself on a task, he will hyperfocus until it’s accomplished. Utilizing a straight sword, he is considered the most able sword user in the academy, and seeks to challenge and best anyone who uses a similar weapon.

“Injured? Inconsequential. Come from any angle, you will not best me: this I claim, upon my formal title of Rex.”

Acer: The most competent fighter in team Card, and some may say within the academy, Acer was raised by the strict teachings of his parents; members of Vestia’s finest First Division. When the declaration of war was announced, his family returned back to Vestia to prepare. With a spiteful relationship between him and his family, the decision to stay in Triaina only furthered the schism. Despite his history, he has a relatively casual personality, and takes most things lightly except for combat, which he expresses eagerness in. He excels in hand-to-hand combat, and uses every part of his body as a weapon with savage intensity.

“Let’s have a go, shall we? No holding back! I’d like a challenge!”

Joker Card: A lean male with turquoise hair, marking him a Hospian. A member of Hospur’s distinctive Shinobi Clan, Joker trains in infiltration and reconnaissance. A calm and gentle soul, they reason through everything carefully and thoughtfully. Seemingly two steps ahead at any given point, Joker knows what is required of him as a leader and efficiently manages the responsibility. Hospur’s Shinobi Clan holds no political stake and a close relationship with Triaina’s Faction of Beggars, providing Joker the opportunity to further his training at Triaina Academy. Joker adamantly deflects personal questions regarding his actual training, history, and connections, earning him an enigmatic air. His closed-off nature and place of origin keeps him from earning the full trust of his team, but he is able to make do with the independently competent members that make up Card.

“My name is Joker Card, descendant of the Shinobi Clan. I am impressed by the abilities of team Xeno. I look forward to seeing how that translates to their leader.”

Dorm Gold: This dorm has a more ideological bond tying the members. Each student in Gold is in some way aristocratic or regarded with high esteem.

Gaul von Sentinel (Literally ‘of Sentinel’): Gaul is a noble whose family oversees Sentinel, a very modestly sized fishing hamlet on the eastern edge of Triaina. The Sentinel family has overlooked the town since its inception, and Gaul regards the title highly. He has fiery red hair, and takes pride in his fencing abilities. Believing noble families should place the protection and well-being of those they oversee above all else, Gaul holds a deep-seated hatred for the aristocracy of Frenza, who live affluently off the backs of an indentured servant population and tarnish the good name of other nobles. They are considered the least powerful in team Gold.

“I will clean the taint of your materialism with blood. En garde!”

Lewis Gear: Hails from Orden as the heir of Gear Corp., one of the major corporations that run Orden’s infamous Desert Race. Lewis hold particular disdain on the lawless Dens that spot the desert, considering them a blight upon the sands and useful only as a form of entertainment. While not the most physically imposing, Lewis is a particularly conniving dealmaker who’s able to easily gleam the basic interests of anyone he meets. It is never known whether the friendships he makes are genuine or stepping stones in his ultimate goal of developing a worldwide conglomerate. Lewis is considered the fourth most powerful member in the team.

“I have an interesting proposition that might be just up your alley. What do you say? You can’t go wrong, making friends with me.”

Princilia Crown: A self-proclaimed noble with Gothic Victorian fashion, Princilia comes from a poor family and has amassed vast wealth through deceptive diplomacy and illicit deals. Particularly untrusting and uncaring of humans, her only friend is a makeshift doll she can always be found with named Amen. Beyond her seemingly innocent appearance, she justifies inhumane and ignoble actions through the guise that it is Amen’s ideas. Using particularly crafty diversion tactics, she is an underhanded fighter with little moral investment. Her disposition leads to many finding her unnerving, however Vale has developed an admiration for her crafty determination, and wishes to earn her trust.

“How bothersome. Amen, what should I do...? Oh, I see... Let us be rid of them, then. Hmhmhm...”

Treyla Wunderkind: A child prodigy in every sense, Treyla grew up showered in the praise and adoration of everyone around her, earning her a substantial ego and necessity to claim perfection in everything she does. Able to take in information with considerable speed and ease, perhaps more remarkable is her ability to accurately emulate the complicated mechanical actions of anyone she observes. Despite her talents, she spurred her much less talented younger brother into the leadership position in the hopes of supporting him out of the large shadow she casts. Treyla holds a deeply intimated affection for her brother, the likes of which is rarely and awkwardly reciprocated.

“I know Vale will grow into the position with time. He just needs the support of his dear sister!”

Vale Wunderkind: A timid boy with little in the way of self-confidence due to being unable to meet the unrealistic expectations set upon him throughout the course of his life. While he enjoys the company of his endearing sister, the knowledge that he will always be overshadowed when she is near causes him to distance their relationship, much to Treyla’s disappointment. Considered a weakling, and not a particularly high scorer on exams, Vale’s redeeming quality is the ability to bring together unlikely members and have them function with little internal conflict. This may be due to pity for his shortcomings or an innate magnetism he has. As a central mold between the mostly asociable and inconsiderate members of team Gold, Vale is the unlikely best candidate for the leadership position.

“I know I’m not the best but...when I see how bright you shine, it inspires me. Please be patient with me: I’ll try my hardest...”

Thank ya for the ask! Let me know what you think of this new cast of characters! :)

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roll20 · 4 years ago

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Dungeons on a Dime!

DOAD

I founded Dungeons on a Dime (or DOAD) to help folx get into roleplaying games- a mission I have approached from all angles. The adventures, guides and resources DOAD make are inclusively-written and read for sensitivity, and aimed at readers of all experience levels. DOAD works exclusively with marginalized, young and/or entry-level creatives, helping them progress their careers.

AOAD

Adventures on a Dime (or AOAD) is a rules-light system, perfect for new game masters and players alike! Everything you need to play is contained in four pages, and it's written in clear English with examples. My goal when writing AOAD was to make a simple entry-point that introduced a lot of the common concepts and mechanics of larger TTRPGs. I’m proud of its simplicity, and how flexible it is at handling stories of all genres.

In AOAD, you play as an Adventurer. An Adventurer's potential is measured with three abilities: Cunning, Vigour and Willpower. Each ability is represented by a die, which you roll when using that ability to resolve problems and handle dangerous situations. Adventurers can learn the skills for any job you can imagine. Conflicts of any kind (such as arguments or combat) are resolved quickly, allowing your story to flow quickly.

AOAD and Roll20

You can now get an automated character sheet, rollable Ability Checks, and a custom playmat for your games in Roll20. And it's all free!

Beast Fables - Roll20 Spotlight Program

Dive into the Bristley Woods, a giant forest filled with tiny beasts. This delightful and daring show follows the characters of Balthazar (a knighted toad) and Pipistrelle (a messenger bat) as they try to make their way home. Using the AOAD system and playing on Roll20, Beast Fables is a great way to see how the system works, and fall in love with a charismatic host of beastly heroes!

Links Doad.co.uk linktr.ee/doad

Guest blog written by Brian Tyrrell

Roll20 Presents Recap:

Lost Mine of Phandelver is only an episode away from its conclusion Monday @ 1pm PT. They’ll be taking on the Rime of Frostmaiden next.

Indoor Recess took their adventures to the water as they head to kill a god, maybe. Catch them Tuesdays at 8pm PT.

Indie Showcase rescued mabari puppies in the Dragon Age RPG and are checking out the North Sea Epilogues next Tuesday at 3pm PT.

Burning Daylight had their series finale! Go watch the entirety of their Burn Bryte adventure over on YouTube.

Against the Stars proves that failing conflicts can be good! Or at least entertaining. Watch them live Tuesdays at 6pm PT.

Tabletop Tabletalk – did you catch the premiere of our brand new game master talkshow with Gabe James Games? Be sure to join him live Fridays at 10am PT and don’t miss an episode over on YouTube.

Help us support Code2040! As a tech company, we are striving towards a more equitable industry and one of the ways we’re doing that is with matching donations to Code2040, “a nonprofit activating, connecting and mobilizing the largest racial equity community in tech to dismantle the structural barriers that prevent the full participation and leadership of Black and Latinx technologists in the innovation economy.” Learn more and donate through our Tiltify campaign here: http://roll20.io/Tiltify-Code2040.

#roll20

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flopsider · 4 years ago

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What Makes a Paper Mario Game Great?

*This post was turned into a script for a Game Domain video which I’ll post here once it’s out!

The Paper Mario game series has undergone massive changes with its last few installments. Most fans can agree that the first 3 (or, if you’re strictly fond of the formula from Paper Mario 64 and The Thousand Year Door, the first 2) games achieved something brilliant. They cemented Mario’s role in the RPG world, providing players with unforgettable experiences that left many with powerful nostalgia and an urge to revisit the titles as they grew older. However, with the newer titles, the gaming community’s feelings on the franchise have been shaken. Once Nintendo began to develop Paper Mario as an Action-Adventure series, many fans were left feeling like the company stopped listening to its fans and were taking the series in an unwelcome new direction. For some fans, however, particularly younger players who are just now discovering the Paper Mario games through the newer titles, these new changes and formulas offer some very enjoyable experiences. Undoubtedly, nostalgia plays a huge role in how we view video games, but there is more at play here than just sentiment. The question I’d like to pose, then, is “What Makes a Paper Mario Game Great?”

Let’s take a look at the individual games and see which areas they thrive in, and what holds them back. Keep in mind that every opinion listed here is just that: an opinion. I’ve tried to be objective in my analyses here, but like all people, I have biases and nostalgia which affect my opinions of video games, so don’t take what I say as the undisputed truth. This is simply my attempt to answer the question posed as best as I can, so if you disagree, let me know peacefully and respectfully in the comments!

Paper Mario 64

I feel like this game is the perfect entry to the series. It has a charming art style that I feel still holds up, offers fantastic gameplay and controls and a solid battle system, and has memorable characters. The main things that hold it back are the more basic storyline and villain, and the less unique character types compared to the next 2 games. However, both of these things can be forgiven since it was the first entry to the series. The chapters are all joys to explore, the leveling system is satisfying and allows for customization, and the badges are a great way to personalize Mario based on your playstyle. Paper Mario 64 laid the groundwork for the games that would follow, and most of the aspects of its formula would evolve throughout the next two entries.

Paper Mario: TTYD

There’s not much I can say about this that hasn’t been said before, but in summary, this game took everything that made Paper Mario 64 great and evolved it into something phenomenal. It built upon the battle system, offering what is widely considered to be the best battling in any Paper Mario game. The audience feature made battles livelier and more exciting, offering further incentive to pursue optional enemy encounters. It gave players new attacks and new ways to orchestrate them, with less repetitive actions than in the first game. It offered a much deeper, darker story with compelling antagonists, partners and NPCs unique to this game which made the world feel alive, and side quests that allowed you to progress through the game and level up your character in a less linear way. The world was crafted beautifully, with areas that stand out in many players’ memories and are far less formulaic than the typical Mario worlds. There were tons of secrets and areas to explore, as well as the first iteration of the Pit of 100 Trials, a side quest arguably more challenging than the game’s final boss. It’s no wonder this is likely the most acclaimed Paper Mario title to date.

Super Paper Mario

First and foremost, I have tons of nostalgia for SPM. It’s maybe my favorite video game of all time, or at least in the top 3. It’s the first Paper Mario game I ever played (I was 7 or 8 years old and have since replayed it many times), and when I played it I had never heard of Paper Mario. There’s a chance that if I instead played 64 and/or TTYD first, I’d be more partial to those games because of nostalgia. However, I truly believe that, nostalgia aside, SPM provides the best overall game experience. I also think that if SPM had come first, and the creators then shifted into a more straightforward RPG style over time, it would be less polarizing.

The move away from turn based combat and into the more classic Mario platforming/real time combat was bold, but not universally appreciated. I totally get why some people feel it was a bad change. If you were in love with the camera perspective, movement, and combat mechanics of the first two, this may be less fulfilling. However, if you are a huge fan of platformers, then it’s certainly a welcome new angle. And if you’re like me and you grew up enamored with classic 2-D Mario platforming action, but also fell in love with the style, RPG elements, and stories of the first two Paper Mario games, then you’ll likely find the perfect mix of the two in SPM. Plus, I feel like turn based combat was never the basis of the Paper Mario franchise, or at least was not the core concept that made the games great. Some people disagree with that, but I personally believe that all the before listed criteria make up the greatness that is the Paper Mario series, and I think Super Paper Mario lives up to them. Despite its many differences, Super Paper Mario felt like a true successor to TTYD. The graphics were quite similar aside from the camera angles, the dialogue and storytelling were stylistically similar but done even better this time around, and several elements were revisited such as the Pit of 100 Trials. I loved the turn-based combat in 64 and TTYD, but I also adored the platforming and real time combat of SPM. Overall, I just feel SPM has the most to offer and provides the most unique, thrilling, and memorable experience. The New 2-D / 3-D switch feature quite literally adds a whole new dimension to the game. I think this is super interesting and fun to use, and it allows for more interesting level and puzzle design. It offered a nice balance since much of the game is played 2-D style whereas the first two entries were set in a 3-D space. Without the 3-D option it’d still be a great game, but might end up feeling a little basic by comparison. The Pixls, in my opinion, are a fantastic reimagining of the partner system. Since the game ditched turn-based combat in favor of platforming combat, the Pixls affect your movement, attack, and defense abilities in real time and can be swapped quickly. This makes platforming, fighting, and movement in general more fun and varied. In my opinion, they’re a fresh take on partners, and even though I love the old partner system, I see this as a welcome new take on it. Flipside and Flopside serve as effective and memorable hub worlds where you can touch base after exploring other dimensions. They have tons of explorable areas, puzzles, characters, and secrets, all of which contribute to the world development. The NPC’s helped add depth and contribute to the lore, with the Flipside and Flopside bartenders being the best examples. The ability to play as 4 different characters, each with different special abilities and movement characteristics was a huge step forward and made the level design much more interesting. In several areas, you have to utilize all available characters to access certain areas, some secret and some required. The best example of this in my opinion is in Castle Bleck, where in order to effectively maneuver around the platforming challenges and access secret areas you have to take advantage of Mario’s ability to flip into 3-D, Peach’s parasol gliding, and Luigi’s super jump, while Bowser is your key to easily clearing rooms of tough enemies. Maybe the least controversial thing I could say about this game is that it has a phenomenal story, the best of any Paper Mario game to date in my opinion. It’s darker than any other Mario game I’ve played, and despite its cartoony appearance, the stakes were higher than ever. It had incredibly memorable characters, small bits of backstory at the end of each chapter which slowly reveal the connection between the antagonist and Mario’s partner Tippi, excellent dialogue and humor, and a darker plot than any Mario game I’ve played. This is balanced by the game’s colorful visuals and soundtrack which make it a joy to play. The game had an inspired world design with bold style choices. For example, in the space levels of Chapter 4, the game temporarily becomes a Defender type horizontal space shoot ‘em up. It was a perfect blend of the RPG style from the first two games and the side scrolling platforming of older Super Mario games. The music is a fantastic mix of retro and modern, a concept mirrored in the graphics and gameplay. All in all, Super Paper Mario is a perfect blend of old and new.

Okay, clearly, I have a lot of love for this game. But I want to be as objective as possible here, so let’s look at some of its shortcomings. The XP system was more basic than the first two games. It being present was a huge plus, but when you level up, it upgrades a predetermined stat (HP or attack) as opposed to you having stat customization. Along these same lines, the lack of badges meant less customization and attack options. Level design wise, some areas felt somewhat empty in 3-D. I didn’t really feel like this as a kid, but as an adult I feel like they could’ve done more with the 3-D perspective in certain areas. In some places, they totally nailed it though.

That brings us to the more recent, more divisive action-adventure titles. To preface, I have the least experience with these games, and the majority of my familiarity with them is from reading articles and watching videos which analyze them and compare them to the older games. So I’ll try not to be too critical, as I’d like to play them all the way through before completely solidifying my opinion on them. That being said, you can learn a lot about a game by watching gameplay footage and reading analyses of them, so I’ll do what I can to go over their pros and cons.

For all three of the newest titles, it’s worth noting that I didn’t include the world being made of Paper in the list of what makes these games great. I don’t hate the jokes, comments, or visual references to paper and crafts in these games. In fact, sometimes I think they’re quite clever and add to the feel of the game. However, in the first 3 “classic” Paper Mario games, it wasn’t a major point of plot or world development, but rather something casually referenced in some well-timed jokes. In fact, the first game wasn’t even meant to be a paper based world. It had many titles in development, and the one directly preceding Paper Mario was Mario Story. The name Paper Mario, more than anything, is a reference to the art style being reminiscent of a pop-up book, and is not the basis of the gameplay or world creation. At least until the more recent games, that is. Sticker Star, Color Splash, and Origami King all base many core gameplay mechanics, the visuals, much of the humor, and even some of the world development on everything being made of paper. This is a cute idea, and the graphics in the newer games are undeniably vibrant and beautiful, but it ends up holding the newer games back only because they focus more on paper gimmicks than they do the story, unique character design, and gameplay. To be fair, I haven’t played the newer games completely, and from what I’ve seen, Origami King looks like a phenomenal stand-alone game and a much stronger Paper Mario entry than SS or CS. I just think Arlo summed it up perfectly when he said, “We didn’t love Paper Mario because it was paper, we loved it because it was Mario’s story.” That being said, let’s look at each game and see what they have going for them.

Paper Mario: Sticker Star

This is easily the most universally criticized Paper Mario title. Every so often you’ll find someone who will defend it, but for the most part, the fans of the series see this as the point where the games took a turn for the worse. Instead of just adding to the overwhelming pile of hatred for the game, I’m going to try and discuss some specific things that hold it back while giving it credit where credit is deserved. Sticker Star is not irredeemable. It has some of the charm the series is known for, some solid dialogue and humor, and appealing visuals. Unfortunately, there’s not too much more I can give it credit for, at least in the context of the other games in the series. So much of what made the first 3 games great were lost here. One of the most obvious steps backward is the near-total lack of original characters. Instead of a world packed with new NPCs and enemies with distinct personalities, the game almost exclusively utilizes classic Super Mario characters. You’ll see plenty of toads, goombas, and koopas here, and not anything in the realm of demonic shadow queens, members of ancient tribes, or mysterious cape and monocle wearing antagonists threatening the existence of all worlds. The villain here is Bowser, which is not just disappointing because it’s formulaic, but it almost feels like it separates the franchise even further from its roots because of Super Paper Mario’s inclusion of Bowser as a protagonist. The battle system also fails to reward you for entering into enemy encounters, and feels much more basic than the previous games. Overall, my main criticism of this game is that it took several steps backwards and not enough steps forward to justify them.

Paper Mario: Color Splash

This game improved upon the action-adventure formula of Sticker Star in almost every way. In that way, it can be seen as a parallel to TTYD, which improved upon its predecessor’s formula. The difference is, TTYD’s predecessor established a formula that was already phenomenal, whereas the groundwork Sticker Star laid for Color Splash was far weaker. Most of the criticisms I have for Sticker Star could be echoed about this game, just less harshly. Speaking more positively, this game had gorgeous visuals (second only to The Origami King), excellent dialogue and humor, and some creative levels, such as the section where you operate the cannons aboard a sailing battleship.

Paper Mario: The Origami King

Overall, The Origami King looks to be the strongest Paper Mario entry in years. It seems to have developed the action-adventure formula of its two immediate predecessors, while including a handful of RPG elements. The battle system is both new and familiar - it’s turn based, but the ring system adds a puzzle element that, to some players, makes battles much more enjoyable and to some distracts from the battling itself. Utilizing the rings, it seems like there are far more creative ways to reach your opponents, but far fewer creative ways to actually attack them. Once again, the world and characters are more formulaic, relying heavily on classic Super Mario locations and characters. However, this game offers more uniqueness than the previous two, starting with the non-Bowser antagonist. The fact that King Olly has a previous close relationship with Mario’s main partner Olivia is reminiscent of Count Bleck and Tippi from Super Paper Mario. This provides the foundation for a better story than Sticker Star or Color Splash. In addition, the visuals are undeniably beautiful. It has the best graphics of any Paper Mario game, and some areas are truly striking, particularly the desert oasis area. The huge con of this game is that is triples down on Nintendo’s shifting of the Paper Mario series away from its RPG roots and toward a more formulaic action-adventure approach. The major positive is that it seems to be a solid game in its own right, one which makes much better use of the new formula than Sticker Star or Color Splash did. It’s got loads of charm and some solid gameplay, but if you’re looking for an experience comparable to the first 2 or 3 Paper Mario games, you’ll likely be left wanting something different from it.

So let’s return to the original question. Based on what we discussed about each title, what makes a Paper Mario game great? I’ve done my best to narrow down what I consider to be the 10 most important criteria that, when met sufficiently, provide the best possible Paper Mario experience. These are:

A compelling story with unique characters

Partners to assist in combat and movement

Clever dialogue

Visually appealing art style

Exploration

Puzzles and Secrets

Cohesive world design with unique areas

An XP system which rewards combat

World development and lore

And finally, a willingness to go darker than other Mario games

There are plenty of other criteria I could add to the list, but these are the main ones which stood out to me as I analyzed each game for their strengths and weaknesses.

Answering the question of what makes a Paper Mario game great is not a simple task, nor is it an objective one. As I said before, my nostalgia for Super Paper Mario is a huge part of why I discuss it so positively. I truly believe it’s worthy of the praise, and I stand by the opinions I’ve stated for the other games as well, but my thoughts on each game in this series are my own, and many of you will and should have different thoughts on them. So share them in the comments, and keep it respectful!

#paper mario #nintendo #video games #mario #super paper mario #paper mario ttyd #paper mario 64

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hordelord · 5 years ago

Text

A Swiftly Tilting Mirror

---

Lord Hordak would never permit anyone to be in such close proximity to him, especially as he lay prone on a metal work table, head resting on folded arms. No warrior liked leaving his unarmored back exposed in such a vulnerable position -- open to attack. But Entrapta had proven trustworthy on more than one occasion. The technologically talented princess had improved the Horde's combat drones, run numbers on operational efficiency, constructed a superior armored exoskeleton for him, assisted him with the portal experiments, and remained loyal even after Catra's treachery.

The only sound in the dark laboratory was the mechanical whir of the robotic armature adjusting its position at Entrapta's command and her absent humming as she concentrated on installing her latest addition to his exoskeleton ensemble -- a pair of bionic wings which she’d spent a considerable amount of time crafting. She'd insisted that he lay down across the work table for the procedure, something about the bearings within the sockets needing to be in a neutral position relative to gravity. He'd objected initially, but complied to silence her long-winded explanation. To ease his paranoia he watched her work in the reflection of a mirror angled above the work table.

"What if the mistakes in your cloning are because of Horde Prime?" Entrapta's question abruptly interrupted her thoughtful humming as she attended to the bionic ports along his trapezius and shoulders.

"The Emperor of the Known Universe doesn’t make mistakes," a disdainful huff.

He watched her in the mirror as she paused her examination of the wing's connector joint to enter something into her datapad before snapping her visor over her face and stowing the screen under a curled arm of hair.

"But how do you know he doesn’t make mistakes?"

"Because he is perfect."

"But if he’s perfect and doesn’t make mistakes that implies your defect is by design."

"You're suggesting he purposely designed his clones, designed me, to be defective?" His temper started to flare, a spark of irritation igniting him.

"If he’s truly perfect then the defect would be intentional because a perfect clone would be--"

"You don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t have to answer your questions!"

"I know that perfection is rarely found in the universe," she continued, ignoring (as she always did) the building acid in his tone.

"What do you know of the universe, Etheria is stuck in a backwater dimension,"

"Yes! It’s so fascinating —I’ve been comparing the data in my archives with the information from your ship’s computers and our portal tests —it’s incredible! I’ve yet to come up with a working hypothesis as to how it exists in an alternate dimension, but I think I have some leads."

A jolt through his shoulder caused his muscles to spasm and he winced with a snarl against the burning sensation. The installation of the first wing had been painful, a jarring shock through his shoulder blade.

"Are you finished yet?"

"No, I just need to make sure the connection is working correctly --there's extensive degradation of your nerve-endings. This will all be a process of trial and error to find the limits of the cybernetic hardware. Then I have to connect the other wing --unless you prefer half a wingspan?" Entrapta chuckled and imp, hiding somewhere up on the pipes, mimicked her.

"Hurry up," he huffed with a growl, claws scraping the cold metal of the table.

"Good science cannot be rushed. And anyways, it's a little hard to see; if I had a better look at what I'm doing? Maybe the work would go faster. You really need to improve the lighting situation in your lab," emphasising her point, a curl of hair holding a small pen flashlight flicked it on and she leaned closer to check a cable that ran along the metal bone of the wing.

"I can see just fine in the dark. Perhaps your eyes need adjustments."

"Ohh, that's an interesting idea. Maybe I'll upgrade my visor --but for now let me finish this. Maybe I just need to get a better angle--" there was a rustling of movement and the penlight flashed in his peripheral vision.

His warrior instincts taut with anticipation, he turned his head to watch her hoist herself aloft and above the work table. He was about to bark an objection before she settled her knees on the table, astride his waist. Her new position afforded her a more direct line of sight to examine both trapezius ports without the ceiling's robotic armature and wings being in the way of her hair. Never in his life had someone dared be so bold as to perch over him as she just had. He watched in the reflection of the mirror as she resumed her work, and his tension eased. The nature of the physical contact was novel and startling.

"Ah, here we go -- this wing is just about done," she chittered between sparks of her tool and taps on her pad.

While most of the nerves in his remaining flesh and muscles were nearly entirely dulled, the exposed skin of his waist could feel her body heat through her coveralls along with the occasional brush of her prehensile hair. It was relaxing in a way he didn't expect.

"Even if Horde Prime did design his clones to be flawed, it doesn't change anything. I will prove my worth --I will prove him wrong," he muttered bitterly.

She hummed an agreement, "I mean, just think about it logically; if he'd designed you to be a perfect clone you'd have been a possible threat to him."

"How do you mean?" He turned his head to look at her through the corner of his eye but her visor still obscured her face, and so rested his head on his folded arms and watched her work through the mirror.

"If you were a perfect clone you'd be equal to him in all ways, including his nature as conqueror of the known universe. I'm no military strategist but, scientifically speaking, intraspecific competitors in nature create conflict."

"There… there would be no conflict. We'd rule the universe together -- as brothers," but it felt strange to admit such a wish to her. Hearing his own words aloud, he felt a sliver of foolishness lodge itself along the edge of his thoughts.

Because what if, after all the time that had past, his brother cast him aside again?

The sound of her visor snapping up pulled him from his brooding.

"Well, when you become ‘Emperor Brother’, I hope you'll still have time for science," she said as the armature securing his second wing lowered and he felt the palm of her gloved hand press firmly into the center his back. Her gaze met his through the mirror as her hair coiled tightly around his upper arms to hold him fast as his second wing was aggressively locked into the right socket at his shoulder. A scarlet snarl, he grunted against the pain of the radiating heat. The first wing had been painful enough.

The burning sensation dulled into the background as he considered her words. His scientific work had always largely been driven by a survival instinct to sustain his failing biology and his desire to prove himself worthy to his brother. Scientific research was a present means to an end and a tool to maintain power. It certainly wasn't a focus of his duties when he was Prime's top General. Though, he'd be lying if he said he didn't find the research enjoyable. Aside from the frustration of repeated failures. — I hope you'll still have time for science.

He decided that it would be unfortunate if he no longer had time for science. He'd certainly miss his laboratory. He’d miss Entrapta’s assistance. He watched her study her datapad, how her brow creased with concentration as she typed a note or two.

"Once I am reunited with the Horde Empire, I'll ensure our new laboratory will have adequate lighting," at the mention of the word our, her gaze flicked to his through the mirror.

"Ohhh, we'll have a new lab? How exciting! Will it be in space--will it be on a spaceship? Ahh! I'd love a lab in space, that'd be a dream-come-true," her enthusiasm beamed through the reflection as her eyes went wide. A smile twisted the corners of his mouth.

"Perhaps. And with access to the Empire's advanced scientific resources and research, I will finally be able to rid myself of this defective body and create a superior form for myself."

"A new body?" Her smile faltered slightly.

"Yes."

"But… you'll still be you, right?" The note of concern in her voice tugged at his attention.

"Of course I will."

"Wow! Horde scientists can transfer consciousness? That's incredible!"

"Yes. At least, I think so," his own doubt gave him pause. Would he still be himself? How could he really be sure?

"We'll have to run some tests before attempting something like that. But in the meantime, I can help you with your upgrades! I'm making great strides in my understanding of bionics and cybernetics. Maybe, with enough upgrades, you won't even need to transfer to a new body because you can improve your existing body --with First One's tech," he felt her shift her position as she leaned back to examine his new wing and she rested her weight lightly on his tailbone and the pressure felt strangely relaxing. He closed his eyes and almost chuckled, amused by the absurdity of her sitting on him like a perching imp.

"Your… confidence is admirable. You… truly believe enough tech upgrades would be able to compensate for my failing biology?"

"I don't see why not --maybe it'd even give you unique advantages," she said as she tested the new wing's range of motion with help from the armature.

"Advantages?"

"Just imagine the possibilities, especially with further integration of First One's bionics. We could build an improved you, and maybe eventually find a way to repair the defects in your genetic code. You're the first cybernetic being --well I mean, the first one I've met anyways. I think that makes you special."

He opened his eyes to look at her through the mirror and was taken aback by the gentle earnestness of her smile. He’d never known anyone like this princess of science and when she looked at him and spoke with such genuineness he wasn’t sure how to respond. He wondered if she was manipulating him somehow, trying to get something she wanted. You can’t trust a princess.

Then she grinned and patted him between his shoulder blades before lifting herself from his back and lowering to the floor beside the table. Immediately, he missed the proximity of her body and was simultaneously unsettled by the realization.

"Ta-Daa!" She bounced on her toes once before sitting cross legged upon her lavender locks, looking up at him gleefully. "Finished! How does it feel?"

Pushing up from the exam table, he flexed and stretched his new appendages --one swung wildly outward and Entrapta dodged it with a laugh.

"Strange, but surprisingly familiar. Though, they don't seem exactly flight-worthy."

"Well no, I suppose that's the downside of having exoskeleton armor crafted from metal, but I'm working on fixing that. Flight may eventually be possible with the addition of an extra power source. Based on my most recent simulations, they should function well as gliding wings, and as a shield. I know the wing membrane looks like fabric, but the material is actually woven strands of fiber thread I synthesized from recycled from First One's materials tech. Lightweight and incredibly strong."

As Hordak stood, the comfortable weight of his wings pulled his shoulders back and caused him to stand a bit straighter. He extended his new wings, feeling how the cybernetic tech pulled at his muscles.

Entrapa watched him with bright eyes and a pleased grin

---

#entrapdak #hordak #entrapta #drabble #she makes wings for him #i had this idea #and i had to get it out of my head #work in progress #a swiftly tilting mirror #my writing

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winchest09 · 6 years ago

Text

Shatter Me - Chapter Thirteen

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5292

Summary: The Winchesters were your world. After joining their hunter ranks, you quickly became attached to the brothers. After a successful hunt, you insist on going out celebrating with the boys – only for a loose end to catch up with you. You’re trapped in a world without hunger, thirst and the Winchesters. With the brothers beside themselves, they make preparations to say goodbye until Dean starts to connect to you through his dreams. Little do they know that you’re much closer than they think…

Chapter warnings: 18+, fluff, fluffy fluff, smut, fluffy smut, angst, bit a drama. ;)

A/N: O.M.G two chapters left! I can’t believe it’s ending so soon! Thank you to everyone who reads this, who loves this series as much as I do and who reblogs and let me know their thoughts. Even if it’s a gif response, a one word comment or an essay, i bloody love them all!

ALSO

I promised a teaser for my NEW Dean x Reader fiction...click HERE for a look at the summary for my new AU fiction - Life for Rent!

—

If you do read, please, please let me know your thoughts! Reblogs and shares mean the world. Feedback is fuel for writers, it sets a fire under our asses to churn out more for you lovely lot :)

Love all of you guys <3

(Please do not repost my work anywhere however reblogs are fine and welcome :) x)

Shatter Me Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

As Dean opened his eyes, he was greeted with the front of the cabin. The soft silence of the snow fall surrounded him as cold flakes landed upon his skin. He was nervous to see you again, he was afraid that he’d walk through that front door to find you unconscious or worse. Running a hand through his hair, he shook away the small pieces of snow as his large hand landed on the handle of the heavy cabin door. Pushing it open gently, he looked around to see the fire still roaring, just the way he left it.

“Y/N?” he called softly, closing the door behind him as his eyes landed on your figure curled up on the couch, covered in the blanket he had left you in. He offered a sad smile as he walked to where you were laying, lowering himself to his knees next to you, “Y/N?” he husked, his hand running through your hair and down your cheek gently as he started to see your eyes flicker. He couldn’t explain the feeling he had when your eyes connected with his, his smile said it all when it grew wide, “hey there sleeping beauty,” he whispered, planting a lingering kiss against your forehead.

“De?” You replied, your throat hoarse and sore. It was taking a while for you to come round, your eyelids were heavy and Dean noted how they kept fluttering closed for a few seconds before opening again.

“Yeah sweetheart, it’s me,” Dean nodded, his hand still stroking your hair, “how you feeling?”

“Fine,” you replied quickly, coughing slightly before you tried to sit yourself up. But it was of no use, you didn’t have the strength in your arms or your body to help you move. So you slowly lay yourself back down on the sofa, allowing a tear to trickle down your cheek. Dean had to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat, before he moved to sit on the couch next to you.

“Come here,” he almost whispered, gently lifting your head and placing it in his lap, his hands going back to play with your hair as you looked up at him. You’d seen Dean’s soft side a number of times, especially when it came to looking after either you or Sammy after a hunt if either of you were hurt.

“How’s things on the flip side?” you questioned, your voice quiet knowing if you spoke any louder, your throat would hurt more than it already did. Dean chuckled slightly, looking down at you, one eyebrow arching.

“If that’s your way of asking if we’ve found the way to bring you home, we have,” he smiled softly, his gaze now focusing on the few strands of hair that had slipped in front of your face, “Sammy’s just gathering the ingredients we need for the spell.” You smiled hearing that, you still remained hopeful somewhat, even though you were on the edge of falling apart.

“Was I right about the globe?” you asked and Dean’s smile remained, you loved being right and the amount of times you had put Dean in his place with your research were too many to count.

“Yeah baby, you were right,” Dean nodded, tilted his head to the side as he ran his thumb over your forehead, “as always.” You chuckled at that before trying to move out of your blanket confines, you wanted to run your hands along his skin, pull him closer to you.

“I can’t wait to be home,” you sighed, the feeling of being tired all the time starting to weigh you down. You tried to move off of Dean’s lap, using your arms to assist you in a sitting up position. You almost got there but your arms decided to let you down at the last second, causing you to collide with Dean’s chest.

“Hey, take it easy,” Dean all but begged, worry etched in his brow as he looked at you.

“Dean I’m fine,” you fired back, trying not to snap at him as he was helping you to sit up, “i’m sorry just…please don’t treat me like I’m fragile,” you pleaded, looking up into his pine coloured eyes. Dean just smiled slightly, the creases at the sides of his eyes showing as he looked at you. Before Dean could respond, the blanket that you were encased in dropped slightly, revealing to him what you were wearing underneath, the only thing you were wearing underneath.

“You’re still wearing my flannel,” he stated, whilst swallowing hard. He knew the last time he was here you were in just his shirt and it was a sight he would happily see every damn day for the rest of his life. You just smiled bashfully, your head dipping slightly as you caught his scent on the collar.

“It still smells like you,” you admitted quietly, a blush tainting your cheeks as you looked at your fingers. Dean couldn’t help but adore your reaction and knowing that he was a comfort to you, made his heart swell. With one hand, he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze, his thumb running lovingly over your bottom lip before kissing you softly.

“You remember that time you wore my flannel after the vamp hunt in Chicago? You’d been with us about 7 months…”

Dean watched as you stormed around the room, throwing your gun onto the bed in anger before sitting to pull off your combat boots. The too got thrown across the room as you muttered obscenities under your breath. Dean’s seen you get worked up before, after a warm shower you normally calm down but Sam had claimed it first, leaving you all wound up.

“Damn bastard vamps ripping my bastard clothes,” you fumed, pulling off your second boot and throwing it hard to the floor, “and did I pack spares? No of course I didn’t!” you grumbled, looking at yourself in the mirror in the room. Your jeans had a few slashes, your top had near enough been torn off your body but luckily you held no injury. That was all thanks to Dean Winchester and his little brother who stormed in behind you to behead the vamp that decided to use your clothes as his carving project.

“Y/N check my duffel, I packed a few extra, you can wear one of those,” Dean said half amused from your side, his hand putting pressure on the open wound on his chest. You span on the spot, arching an eyebrow at the green eyed Winchester who was sitting on the edge of the double bed.

“Dean Winchester is letting me wear one of his flannels? I thought that honour was only reserved for the special ladies?” you sassed, arms crossed over your chest with a slight smirk pulling at your lips.

“Well looks like I need to make an exception unless you fancy walking around in just your underwear.” He smirked as he raised his eyebrows once in a suggestive manner, “Hell I don’t mind that second option, saves on laundry,” Dean retorted and you just scoffed, rolling your eyes at man in front of you.

“If only you’d be that lucky,” you challenged, walking towards Dean’s duffel, lifting it up and placing it on the bed next to him.

“Hey maybe next time I won’t pack any spares,” Dean suggested, sticking his bottom lip out as he nodded his head, looking like he was actually considering doing that. You playfully slapped his uninjured arm and made your way back to your duffel which was next to the bathroom door. Unfortunately, Sam was already in the shower meaning you had nowhere private to change and you didn’t fancy sitting in vamp juice for any longer than needed.

Looking over at Dean, you gave him a pointed look and he just rolled his eyes as he turned away from you. If you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn’t actually mind if Dean saw you in your underwear, it actually gave you quite a thrill knowing that he could peek on you at any given moment as you peeled your shredded shirt off your skin. Your feelings for the eldest Winchester were only increasing as time went on, no matter how many times you tried to get laid and scratch your itch, you knew it was only going to be Dean that would be able to get rid of it completely.

Across the room, as you changed, Dean angled himself back towards you just a fraction. He was able to watch you from the reflection in the mirror you were just looking in. He knew he shouldn’t be looking, but he couldn’t help himself. You were everything he had ever dreamed of in a woman. If he was to settle down, live an apple pie life, you were the kind of woman he would do it with. He felt his mouth go dry when you peeled off the shredded shirt, your skin was perfect and smooth. His eyes fell on the curve of your back and he was hoping that you would turn around so he could take in everything about you. However, you unknowingly dashed his hopes as you shrugged on his flannel, only turning around when you were doing up the last few buttons.

Even though you were covered, the sight of you in his clothing made Dean’s palms sweat. His breath was hitched in his throat, his tongue tied in his mouth. You looked so beautiful. You had left a few buttons undone, allowing just a glimpse of cleavage to be seen. Dean had slowly been having feelings for you over the past few months but in this particular moment, he knew he was a goner. You’d captured his heart and soul. Dean went to move back to stare at the motel door when a sharp pain erupted across his chest.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean winced, his open wound pulsing, fresh blood oozing from his injury. Within a second, you were at his side, hair tucked behind your ears.

“Here let me look,” you encouraged softly, trying to pry his hand from atop his shirt. Dean’s heart quickened in his chest, he couldn’t sit in front of you topless, and he couldn’t feel your soft fingers on his skin as he was sure he would combust.

“It’s fine,” Dean stated, trying to shrug you off as if the injury was nothing but you weren’t taking his shit today. He was injured and it needed to be dealt with.

“Dean,” your stern voice echoed throughout the room, the stare down between you and Dean was only sound tracked by the water running from the shower.

Dean finally relented, moving his hand off his wound and started to undo his flannel. With a small smile, you moved to grab the first aid kit before turning back around to find a nearly topless Dean on the bed. He was struggling with getting his t shirt over his head due to where his injury was. You placed the first aid kit down at his side before placing your hands on the hem of his shirt, gently helping it to go over his head. However, once Dean was freed from his cotton confines, he was greeted with an eyeful of your flannel clad breasts. His eyes went a little wide and he swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing pink along with tips of his ears before he looked down at his hands.

“You ok there cowboy?” you asked playfully, pulling a chair up and placing it in front of him before opening up the kit.

“Yeah…yeah I’m good.” Dean let out a long breath, frowning and muttering explicit words as you started to clean his wound with what whiskey you had left.

Soon he felt numb, he was captivated by watching you work. You stuck your tongue out slightly over your bottom lip as you gently cleaned away the dried blood that was stuck to his skin. The wound wasn’t as bad as all the blood made out and that was something you were thankful for, you were never a fan of giving stitches but if needs must, you would. Dean had noticed how some strands of hair had fallen in front of your face and it took everything he had in him to not reach up and tuck them behind your ear. Feeling his stare, you smiled slightly, moving to grab the medical dressing from the box.

“Have I got vamp juice on my face or something?” you questioned, looking up at Dean, catching his eye as he stared down at you. However, Dean just cleared his throat and looked down at you undoing the bandage.

“No, no,” he replied, coughing slightly. You just nodded and carried on working on his wound. You gently placed the bandage in place, wrapping it around his chest a few times to keep it in place. Each time you came in close to pass the bandage from one hand to the other, you could faintly smell Deans’ cologne and it made your mouth water. You’d give anything you could to run your hands over his body, to kiss every freckle and to kiss every scar. You tied a knot in the bandage and tucked it into the material, tapping it lightly. You could still feel Dean’s stare, you knew he was watching your hands and his heavy breathing made you quiver slightly. You had to question whether he was feeling what you were.

“Well it’s not gonna need stitches or anything but erm…” you all but whispered, your hand taking on a mind of its own as it trailed over the edge of the bandage, ghosting Dean’s skin. As your hand moved above his heart, you could feel how rapidly it was beating beneath your touch and it made you swallow hard, “you-you’ll need to keep it clean,” you all but stuttered as you left your hand to linger on his skin for a second to long. You closed your eyes and went to move it away when Dean caught your wrist.

“Y/N,” he husked, holding your wrist tightly and encouraging you to look at him. You slowly turned to look at him, the feeling of his hand gripped on you burning into your skin. You caught his eye and you couldn’t work out his expression. His eyes were soft but dark, his breathing was irregular, his skin seemed flushed.

“Dean what-”

“I needed that shower,” Sam declared as he swung open the bathroom door, ruffling his hair in a towel. You felt Dean quickly let go of your wrist and you moved away from him, heading towards the bathroom where Sam had just appeared. Sam noted the weird tension in the room, a frown appearing on his features. “You guys ok?”

“Yeah good,” you replied, a small smile on your lips as you gathered your toiletries and entered the bathroom. Before you closed the door, you caught Dean as he gazed past his brother and at you. You gave him a small smile before you closed the door, one which he returned.

“Peachy,” Dean grumbled, staring at the now closed bathroom door.

“You had my heart racing that night,” Dean smiled fondly at the memory, remembering how he felt, as if it was yesterday, “my palms were clammy, my mouth was dry and to be honest, those feelings towards you have never changed,” he admitted, taking your hands in his as your cheeks reddened at his confession.

“I thought you’d be able to hear my heart it was beating that loud,” you slightly chuckled, looking down at your entwined fingers. Dean took a moment to take in everything about you, he just wished he had the nerve to tell you back then instead of now. Maybe then, you wouldn’t be in the situation you were in.

“If Sammy hadn’t opened the bathroom door…I would’ve-”

“-me too,” you finished his sentence, thinking he was insinuating that he would have leaned in for a kiss but Dean shook his head. An action that you slightly frowned at.

“No you don’t understand Y/N. It was that moment, that exact moment in that motel room that I realised, it…it hit me like a freight train,” he admitted, closing his eyes slightly and holding your hands tighter.

“Realised what?” You questioned, gently squeezing his hands back in a sign of encouragement, your eyebrows creasing together. Dean took a deep breath, opening his eyes to look straight into yours.

“I love you sweetheart,” he confessed, bringing your hands to his lips, “with everything that I have, I love you,” he husked and your eyes grew wide. You never expected those words to leave his lips, especially towards you.

“De…I-” you stumbled over your words as you pulled your hands away from his. Dean looked almost disappointed before you placed your hands either side of his stubble covered cheeks, a smile adorning your lips, “I love you too.”

“Really?” Dean took a breath, smiling at you widely, resting his forehead on yours.

“Yes really,” you half chuckled, rolling your eyes playfully at him for even needing to ask that question. You dropped your gaze from his eyes to his lips and let yours hover above them for a second before taking your bottom lip between your teeth. “I want you De,” you almost whispered, giving Dean a barely there kiss. You felt his breath hot and heavy over your mouth as he rolled his head to the side, his forehead still connected to yours, his eyes closed.

“Baby, as much as I want to and I really want to,” he husked, his tongue running along his bottom lip, “you’re not…it’s not…I don’t want to hurt you,” he confessed, his eyes opening to look into yours once more. You kissed his cheek softly, then his jawline and then you placed one at the edge of his lips before you pulled back away from Dean.

“You could never hurt me,” you stated softly, taking your hands out of Dean’s to your blanket where you pulled it away from you, revealing yourself fully to the green eyed Winchester.

In a single second, Dean captured your lips in his, his hands gently squeezing at the tops of your arms. In that single kiss, you felt everything Dean had to give you, all of his love and all of his emotion. Your hands travelled up to his torso, fisting his shirt as you angled your head to deepen the kiss. Dean’s tongue traced your bottom lip as you let out a breathless moan, his large hands ghosting down your sides to land on your hips. With a gentle squeeze, Dean assisted you into his lap, never breaking contact with your lips as he devoured you.

Hooking one of his arms around your back, he held you firmly to his chest as his free hand held your cheek, his thumb caressing the skin there. His momentum slowed slightly as he drank you in, nose nudging yours, his lips barely connecting with your skin. Dean was appreciating everything you are and were. He slowly stood, you still in his arms as he walked closer to the fire place before softly placing you down in front of it, and he wanted to keep you warm. As he gently placed you down, you slowly laid back and pulled him down on top of you by his collar. He leant over you on one arm, his free hand working on the buttons of his flannel.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, your fingertips playing with the nape of his neck as you brought him in for another searing kiss. Once his lips connected with yours, you made work of his clothes. You tugged on the hem of his top, encouraging him to break contact with you for a moment as you chucked it to the floor behind you. Reaching forward, you placed your palms on his chest, feeling his muscles tense under your tender touch, a reaction which made you smile.

Dean’s kiss swollen lips left your own, making their way down to your jaw to the nape of your neck. You gasped, feeling his stubble grazing your skin, his calloused fingers still working on those final buttons of the flannel. Once the last button was undone, Dean spread the flannel wide before leaning back to admire all of you. He didn’t see the cracks, they may as well had not been there because to Dean, you were still the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. He ran his hands up from your hips to the side of your breasts, ensuring no fabric was restricting his view of you.

With no panties to contend with, Dean traced one finger up around from the side of your breasts, down between the valley of your cleavage to your naval. He stopped momentarily as you bit your lip, squirming slightly underneath his touch before he continued his pleasurable pursuit on your body. His fingers reached your already wet folds and you heard him growl slightly. It only took a brief look to his crotch to see how he was already bulging. You didn’t want to wait for him any longer, you didn’t want to get lost in foreplay, you were ready and you needed him now.

Reaching forward, you slowly pulled yourself up with the assistance of Dean, your hands quickly working on his jeans. You shuffled them down his legs, your hands eagerly freeing his already hardened cock. With a quick manoeuvre, Dean had kicked his pants off to the side and he rested himself between your legs, ensuring you were comfortable as you lay back down beneath him. His nose once again nudged yours as his kiss stained lips ghosted your own. You felt how he was nudging at your entrance teasingly and you mewled beneath him, closing your eyes briefly. As you opened them again, staring into Dean’s striking green orbs, no words needed to be shared before he bottomed out inside you.

You arched your back with pleasure, relishing the burn and fullness you felt of Dean’s cock being inside you. Dean dropped his head to the nape of your neck as he let out a shaky breath, never wanting to forget how perfect you felt wrapped around him, how perfect you felt beneath him. Your hands came out to hold onto Dean’s biceps, your nails gently digging into his skin to encourage him to move. He withdrew to his tip before his hips started to roll into you and you let out a breathless moan. He was hitting your spot over and over again as he’d rested his hands just under your hips, angling them up to meet his thrusts.

Your hands were gripping at the rug beneath you, your fingers running through the fur while Dean was groaning above you. His pace slowing slightly as he came to hover over you, his arms now either side of your head. He kissed the edge of your nose as he slowly bottomed out in you again, his lips capturing yours. He withdrew to the tip once more, allowing himself to lean on one arm as his free hand made its way down your body to between your legs. He found your sensitive bud and began to circle it slowly, his lips never leaving yours. You gripped at his biceps, the feeling that was washing over you was one you wished you could drown in. You felt the coil begin to tighten in your belly as you gasped against Dean’s lips. You couldn’t stand feeling empty anymore, you needed him. You wrapped your legs around his waist as tight as you possibly could, using your heels to stimulate his movement once again.

Dean took the hint, burying himself to the hilt inside you in a quick motion that made you mewl beneath him. You didn’t move your heels, the new angle allowing him to penetrate you deeper than he had been doing before. His name escaped your lips more than once in rapid succession with each thrust Dean gave. The coil in your belly close to snapping, you wrapped your arms around his neck, his chest flush with yours. The friction of his movements made you clench around him which only encouraged Dean to growl in your ear.

With his pubic bone grinding over your clit with each thrust, you were swimming in ecstasy. His lips were kissing down your neck, nipping, sucking at your flesh. It wasn’t long before his hips started to shudder and his breathing became irregular, you knew he was close. You used your hands to guide Dean’s lips back to yours and the moment they connected, you felt the coil snap. You gasped loudly against his swollen lips earning a groan from Dean in return. He helped you ride out your high, kissing you with fervour as he chased his own end. With a shaky breath and a few more thrusts, Dean let go and moaned your name, coating your insides with his seed.

He rested his head in the nape of your neck, trying to catch his breath. You just smiled and held him close, relishing the feeling of his weight on top of you. You wanted to remember every little thing, his scent, the way his hot breath felt upon your skin, the way he kissed you; truth was you were scared. Terrified. You didn’t know how long you’d got left, you didn’t know if the way to bring you home would even work. Each time they tried, the curse advanced some more and you knew your body wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Dean slowly lifted his head from your neck and captured your lips in a soft kiss before rolling gently off you to the side. As you lay there in post orgasmic bliss, appreciating the sounds of the crackling fire beside you, Dean had been to the bathroom and back with a warm towel to help you clean up. He grabbed the discarded blanket from earlier and draped it across you both as he lay back by your side. He opened his arm to you and you eagerly took your place, leaning on his chest.

“Roaring fireplace, log cabin in the woods, having your way with me in front of the open flames. De you’re becoming more and more hallmark by the second,” you mused, tracing patterns on his chest as you bit back a smile, hearing Dean playfully huff beneath you.

“You know wha-” Dean started but couldn’t finish, his eyes shut tight as he winced slightly. Something which you noticed and had you concerned.

“You alright?” you asked, leaning up slightly to get a better view of his face. Dean just looked down on you, his features soft as his large hand stroked at your back.

“I’m pretty sure I just head Cas in my head,” he mentioned softly, knowing what this meant, “everything is ready, they’re waiting on me.”

“Oh,” was your simple response, a little disappointed that Dean had to be leaving so soon. “You best get go-” You couldn’t finish your sentence as it felt like a film had covered your throat. You viciously coughed, being unable to keep it in. Hand over your mouth, your eyes watered with how sore your throat was becoming. You pulled your hand away only to notice it was covered in your blood, crimson staining your skin.

“Y/N!” Dean panicked, sitting himself more upright, encouraging you to do the same.

“It’s fine, I’m good,” you lied, wiping your hand on the towel Dean had previously brought over. However the green eyed Winchester saw through your lies, using his thumb and forefinger to pinch your chin, encouraging you to look at him.

“Sweetheart-”

“-Dean, haven’t you got a spell to cast?” you interrupted gently before looking up at him through your lashes, “go, I’ll be fine. You’re bringing me home right?” you asked, offering him a small smile as your hand wrapped around his. Dean just brought you into him once more, kissing your forehead before capturing your plump lips with his own.

“Right you are baby,” Dean whispered against your lips, hoping with everything that he had that you would be home before the day was out.

Sam woke Dean gently, hating that he had to pull his brother away from you. However knowing that you could be home within the next half an hour made him feel a bit better about it all. As Dean woke slowly, his green eyes adjusted to the darkness before looking up to his little brother. Sam just offered a half smiled and nodded, no words needed to be exchanged, Dean knew it was time to bring you home.

Your room was dim when Dean entered, Sam by his side. The only lighting in the room were the few candles that Rowena had placed around your body and on the surfaces that surrounded you. Dean felt a heavy weight in his chest, he’d just spend what could have been his last ever moments with you and it terrified him. His eyes were trained on your form, motionless on the bed, he didn’t even notice Rowena coming up to his side to place a comforting hand on his arm.

“Everything’s ready,” she spoke softly with sincerity. She offered Dean a small smile before making her way over to where Castiel was standing at the foot of the bed. Sam was still at his brother’s side, his hand firmly on his shoulder as he gave a squeeze of encouragement.

“Are you ready?” Sam asked from the side of Dean, his voice gentle.

“As I’ll ever be,” Dean nodded before taking his place by the make shift altar at the side of your bed. “So…” he let the sentence trail off, looking slightly to his left for Rowena’s instruction. The red haired witch just cleared her throat before explaining.

“All the ingredients are in the bowl. You just need to recite the incantation from that page in front of you and then ignite the ingredients at the end,” she stated, using her hands to help with her explanation.

“Ok,” Dean nodded, rubbing his hands on his jeans, “here goes.” Dean ticked his head to the side as he let out a shaky breath, stretching his arms out in front of him before he placed his palms down either side of the bowl. He took a moment to himself, his eyes closed as he remembered your arms around him. He remembered the feeling of your kisses on his lips, the way you smiled at him, the sound of your voice when you said I love you too.

Dean opened his watered eyes and blinked away the tears, before looking down at the piece of paper in front of him. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, Dean started to read the Latin that was scripted on the paper in front of him. His mind focused on you, he allowed his voice to become more confident with each piece of Latin that rolled off his tongue. The candles in the room started to flicker, the company in the room held their breath as Dean spoke the last final words, igniting the ingredients in the bowl. Half the candles in the room blew out, the ingredients glowing red before the flames fizzled into nothing. The room was silent. Dean’s eyes snapped to your figure, waiting, hoping for some kind of movement.

But there was nothing. The cracks still adorned your skin, your flesh was still pale in colour, and your body was still.

The spell hadn’t worked.

A/N: I’m just gonna hide behind my laptop over here...hope you enjoyed! Also if you haven’t already, check out the summary for my NEW AU Dean x Reader fiction being posted after Shatter Me has ended. Find that HERE

Any feedback would mean the absolute world to me so if you have the time, i’ll love you forever! If you love it - please comment/reblog and let me know!

Also if you want to join us for the rest of the ride let me know - TAG LISTS ARE OPEN!

Just send me an ASK and i’ll happily oblige :)

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rubyscloud9 · 5 years ago

Text

fight the feelings- m.

park jinyoung x reader (requested)

summary: jinyoung finds himself on the wrong side of town, but you, a member of a gang since childhood, help him through, and he begins to feel connected to you. he wants to learn how to fight like you, so you teach him but jinyoung winds up falling for you, and no matter what you say to him, he doesn’t want to escape the danger you come with.

you were leisurely walking through the streets of the city, feet dragging heavily behind you as you as you watched the pastel blue of the sky burn to a deep orange, flecked with yellows and pinks. letting out a sigh, you ran to catch up with your gang.

you’d never known a life outside of your gang. but being the only female, and also the youngest, only 23, you were treated well. you were a respected attribute to the gang. you were kind of born into it really, your mom ended up marrying the leader of the ahgase gang, and once you were old enough to choose your path in life, you chose to join them. and you didn’t regret it. it taught you to be tough, and to rely on yourself, something that made you feel powerful.

“you good?” jaebum asked with a smile.

“yeah, just hella tired man.” you smiled back sleepily, face scrunching up as the reaction to the silent yawn you could no longer hold back. as you walked, everything was peaceful, which was pretty unusual honestly.

until you saw a man, about your age, up against a building, being the vessel for the punches being laid on him. you’d thought maybe he was just some shitty guy, he deserved it, until you saw the green bandanas incorporated in the men’s outfit and realized it was your rival gang who was beating this man up. you practically jumped into an intense roundhouse kick, knocking one of the guys to ground, and sweeping the other to the floor with you foot. you pounced onto one, landing jab after jab to him, blood practically exploding from his face, he visibly laid his fist on the ground and tapped out, scrambling off the floor and running away, an easy win really. but the man who you’d swept to the floor got back up, pressing you to the wall instead, wrapping his hand around your throat and attempting to squeeze the breath out of you. with all the breath you had to spare, you looked over to the man who’d been getting beaten.

“i don’t know who the hell you are, but you need to get the fuck out of here. run!” you beckoned him away and he sprinted off, not looking back. you began to squirm in your rivals grasp, attempting to break free, but he only squeezed your throat tighter, and you felt like your windpipe was being crushed.

you were progressively getting weaker, and you felt like you had no escape, until you used the last ounce of strength in your body, and landed a front kick to his upper stomach. his hand fell away from your throat as he doubled over in pain, and even though you were faint and couldn’t breathe, you went into a series of front kicks, stomp kicks, roundhouse kicks, and somehow you’d gathered up just enough energy to perform your specialty; the flying kick. your foot made contact with his face and you heard a sick crack in the air, your victory song. you looked down and the floor was drenched in blood and even dotted with a few teeth. you couldn’t take the time to admire your handiwork, because the sound of heavy boots running away filled the air. “stay the fuck away from here!” you yelled, still unable to catch your breath. you took a step forward, and suddenly your body gave out from the previous lack of oxygen, but you fell into a pair of strong arms and inhale the familiar scent of your friend.

“jaebum, how much did you see?” you slurred, relaxing against his chest.

“all of it. the rest ran back home, we gotta get you back to hq too, so you can rest.” he explained, lifting your body upright and slinging you over his shoulder as he walked back to the hq, hidden deep in a jumble of buildings.

after a few days you’d gotten your full strength back. the gang was on a mission that they wanted you to sit out of, and even though that disappointed you, you could have a day for yourself. you threw on a leather jacket, white v-neck shirt, grey ripped jeans and your lucky combat boots, not forgetting to tuck your royal blue bandana deep into the pocket of your jacket. you walked out of the hq and decided to take a walk around the city, the weather was perfect. the sun sending comforting beams of heat down to the earth, and the slight wind blowing kept the heat from being overwhelming.

when you were walking, you came across a face that looked oddly familiar to you. you pondered where you saw him, and then it clicked. he was the guy who was getting beat up. he had an almost fully healed bruise under his eye and a few red patches on his face that had almost faded back to his normal skin tone. he was tapping his foot and scrolling through something on his phone, until he looked up and his eyes widened.

“oh my gosh, aren’t you the girl who saved me from those guys? i’ve been looking everywhere for you! i kept coming over here and i didn’t ever find you!” he was borderline ecstatic, while you were beyong confused.

“woah, woah, woah, woah hold on what? you’ve been, trying to find me? i don’t even know your name!” you spoke, exasperated.

“well, first of all, i’m park jinyoung, and you are?” he asked, shoving his hand in your direction.

“i’m (y/n).” you shook his hand. “now what do you mean you were looking for me?”

“exactly what i said! i’ve been looking for you! i’ve been wanting to say thank you first of all, so, thank you for helping me out. i also wanted to ask you something.” jinyoung figeted with his hands.

“okay, you’re welcome, but you have to get out of here, why are you even here anyways?” you really didn’t want him to be here, you knew it wasn’t safe for him.

“my favorite takeout joint is on this side of the city.” he explained, shrugging.

“that’s valid. but still, not safe. now what’s the question?” you asked.

“can you teach me how to fight like you? you’re a badass! i wanna defend myself like that if i’m ever in a situation like that again.” he asked, and you pondered it.

“shit, i mean sure. i’m free pretty much this whole week, my gang is doing a mission without me.” you gave jinyoung a small smile.

“gang?” he questioned.

“yeah.” you replied simply, pulling your bandana out just enough so he could see it, before hastily shoving it back down into your pocket.

“don’t gangs like, um, shoot people?” jinyoung asked, obviously nervous.

“i mean yeah, but don’t worry. i don’t really use weapons. i’m a black belt in karate.” you reassured.

“can you teach me what you know?” jinyoung asked again.

“what’s in it for me?” you popped your hip out, tapping your foot. this guy in front of you was nice, but damn was he naive.

“i’ll get you some takeout, and a free ride back to my house.” jinyoung offered.

“you know what, park jinyoung? we have a deal.” you smiled coyly, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the takeout place, not noticing how his cheeks tinted pink when he felt your slightly rough skin against his smooth skin.

———————————————————————

you had eaten the takeout that he graciously paid for, and now you were back at his house. you were standing in his backyard, preparing to show him how to fight.

“catch!” you yelled, throwing your jacket at him. he caught it without missing a beat and set it on a bench. “okay, so i’m just going to assume you know how to karate chop. you just strike downward or upward at a slight angle.” you spoke.

“yeah.” he said, demonstrating one. you hummed in approval.

“if you want to actually strike with a punch, keep it straight out. you can do an uppercut or something like that, but in karate punches are more traditionally struck straight forward. you’ve ever seen those people break wooden boards and cinderblocks? you have to strike straight on, aim for the middle of your target, and strike with power. you have anything you wanna try on?” you asked, then showed him a proper punch.

“i’ve got a shit ton of broken down cardboard boxes in my shed, lemme grab them.” he ran, over to the shed, and returned with almost a million pieces of cardboard to test on, flashing you a smile that caused a slight pang in your heart.

“alright, i’ll hold it up, don’t worry about hitting me, just give it your all.” you smiled, and he breathed deeply, his eyed shutting for a quick second before striking, but his punch went slightly downward from the slight lack of power in it, and it didn’t even dent the cardboard.

“aw.” he looked dejected.

“hey, don’t worry about it, man.” you clapped a hand over his shoulder awkwardly. “it was only your first try, lemme help you. you’ll get it.” you walked over behind him, softly kicking his feet further apart from each other to put him in the proper stance. then, you trailed one hand down his arm, grasping his forearm. shit, his skin was really soft and smooth wow.

“oh god.” he breathed nervously.

“hey dude, you gotta calm down. you’re only learning.” you reassured him. “now i’m gonna guide you into a punching motion, you should feel how much power should be in the punch. it won’t hit straight on if it’s not sharp and powerful.” you explained, suddenly thrusting his hand foreward quickly, the air whooping slightly.

“wow.” jinyoung’s eyes went wide.

“felt that?” you asked smiling. he nodded, eyes bewildered at the fact that he was capable of moving so powerfully. “wanna try again?”

“yes.” jinyoung responded. you picked up the cardboard again, placing it in front of you.

“remember, aim for the center, put force into it.” you reminded, nodding as a way to tell him that you were ready when he was. he took another breath, then suddenly struck, a hole forming in the center of the cardboard.

“i did it!” he cheered.

“hell yeah you did!” you gave him a high five. you had ended up teaching him a lot of upper body techniques for fighting, and he actually caught on quick, being able to learn a lot. you only stopped when the evening sky started to morph into the beautiful, burning sunset. being chivalrous, jinyoung drove you home, and promised to pick you back up again around the same time for more lessons.

by day 4, you had begun to work on kicks. not only that, but you’d gotten closer. jinyoung was beginning to make your heart flutter, and you were beginning to realize the lingering stares he gave to you. he had a sweet personality and was easy to talk to, and was shockingly good at karate for only having started. he’d mastered the front kick and the stomp kick, but was having trouble with the roundhouse.

“god, how do you even angle your body for this?” jinyoung pinched the bride of his nose in frustration. you chuckled slightly, walking up behind him.

“here let me help.” you said, your hands shaking as you placed them on his slim hips. that’s never happened before, you thought. “okay do your kick, not too high yet.” you instructed. he kicked at about a forty-five degree angle, and you twisted his hips to follow the direction of his leg. “see, it’s not a big twist, just let your body follow where your leg is going, okay?” you explained, still kind of shaky and nervous, the feeling rising as he gave you an appreciative smile.

“okay, i’ll do one now.” he announced, before executing a near perfect roundhouse kick. his leg hadn’t gone as high as yours can, but his form was now perfect.

“good job. hey, lemme show you something cool.” you said, walking over to the other side of the backyard, grabbing wooden boards you’d covertly placed against the wall of the shed. “hold these for me, two at a time, and try to pick them up fast.” you demanded in a soft voice.

“okay.” he said holding up two of them. then, you’d began to chop and kick the boards, one classic punch, a front kick, two roundhouses consecutively, another front kick, another punch, then, you backed up quickly and performed a flying kick at the last board, snapping it in half valiantly.

“there.” you were breathing slightly heavy. “i haven’t tried to break boards in a long time.” you stared down at all the broken pieces of wood, feeling accomplished.

“god, you’re a badass! that was so cool!” jinyoung cooed. “you know what, you’re really pretty too...” he trailed off, blushing.

“ah, jinyoung, don’t be that way. i’m dangerous. i’m too dangerous for you, you know that right?” your eyes met his and he was unresponsive. “ugh, whatever, i’ll see you tomorrow.” you began walking away, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by your emotions and the realization that the constant darkness looming over you could taint such a sweet guy.

“hey don’t you want a ride? that’s like a thirty minute walk.” jinyoung yelled after you.

“it’s a beautiful night. good job today jinyoung, i’ll see you tomorrow.” you trudged out of his yard and back to the hq, feeling constricted by your sudden emotions for jinyoung.

———————————————————————

on the seventh day, the last day of your free week, you’d come over early so you could help him perfect a few techniques. you had planned a fight so jinyoung could test out his skills. he seemed nervous today because of that realization clouded his brain.

“hey, jinyoung, you know we don’t have to fight, right? you could just show me everything i’ve taught you in a sequence or something so i can see what you know.” you suggested, wrapping him into a back hug. you’d both became a little touchier with each other over the past two days. it was refreshing for you but also frustrating all at once because you knew you couldn’t get too close to his heart.

“no, no i want to do this, i want to fight, but it’s like, what if i’m way worse than you?” he spoke with an anxious tone.

“well, jinyoung, of course you’re not going to be at my level, i mean i’ve been a black belt for over half of my life, but i don’t doubt that you’ll put up a good fight. you’ve caught on really fast and most of your techniques are near perfect. the only thing i think you’ll have some trouble with is coming up with combos and sequences that counter what i’m doing. you’re going to be great!” you encouraged him. shockingly, he reached down and petted your head, and silently prayed that he enjoyed the feeling of your locks fleeting through his long fingers.

“thanks, sweetheart. oh shit, didn’t mean to say that!” he blushed. you just grinned at him and fought off the blush that you were about to develop. “um, hey um, can we do the fight now? i think i’m ready.” he spoke, probably trying to change the subject and dispose of his nerves as quickly as possible.

“oh yeah, of course!” you were somewhat shocked at the sudden proposal of the fight, but stood your ground anyway, taking on a fighting stance once you moved to the grass. “you can countdown if you want, i want you to be ready.” you suggested. then, jinyoung took an audible deep breath.

“five... four... three... two... one... go!” jinyoung yelled, running at you, attempting a punch but you ducked under him, knocking him on his behind with a clean foot sweep. he managed to get up pretty fast though, and blocked your roundhouse kick. suddenly, he landed a strong kick to your stomach. a panicked look shot across his face as he thought he might have hurt you, but you just rebutted his worry with a smirk, you were used to this. you’d even fought your friends before. jaebum and you had frequently indulged in fights just to blow off steam, never really hurting each other too much, but not holding back too much either.

you attempted another roundhouse, this time kicking jinyoung in the shoulder, relatively hard. a pained look painted his features, but he kept fighting, so you knew it was all okay. he landed a swift punch to your chest, and swept you to the floor with his foot. you got up and repeated the moves that worked against the other for a while, before jinyoung accidentally punched you right in the face. he gasped, looking fearful at what he’d done, but you ignored it, running at him with your favorite flying kick that sent him tumbling to the ground and causing him to tap out at the sudden sharp burst of pain he felt.

“i win.” you smirked, reaching down to him and helping him up, ignoring the blood that had started gushing out of your nose and onto your shirt, and the throbbing in your cheek that would surely become a dark bruise. “i didn’t hurt you to bad did i?” you asked, after he winced while taking a step.

“no, actually, except for that flying kick of yours.” he laughed, but then the concerned look came over him again. “but oh my god, look at you, i’m so fucking sorry!” he exclaimed.

“hey man, it’s okay. nothing i haven’t been through before.” you patted him on the shoulder. “good fight.”

“good fight.” he repeated. “you wanna come inside so you can stop the bleeding? ill give you a new shirt too.” jinyoung suggested and you nodded following him inside and to the kitchen, immediately pinching your nose to stop the bleeding and grabbed a few paper towels to wipe the dripping blood away. you tended to your nose until it stopped bleeding, and then he handed you a shirt from his closet. it was huge, and it smelled like him and you fought off a smile over it. “the bathroom is down that back hall on the left, you can go change your shirt and i’ll wash yours.”

“okay, thanks, jinyoung.” you replied, wiping the last bit of dried blood off of your nose and walking to the bathroom. as you changed, you didn’t allow your mind to fully submerge itself in how much more the shirt smelled like his usual cologne now that it was warmly enveloping you. ignoring the feelings it gave you, you walked out of the bathroom, and sat down on jinyoung’s couch.

“you sure you’re okay?” jinyoung was now behind you, massaging your shoulders.

“mhmm. why are you doing that?” you reached up to lightly graze his hand.

“you’ve worked so hard this week helping me, and i’ve hurt you. you deserve it.” jinyoung smiled, coming around the couch to sit next to you. “you still look really pretty, even with a bruise forming.” he noted, lightly brushing his thumb over the gradually darkening area, showing affection without hurting you.

“jinyoung, what did i say about all that? do i have to say it again? don’t get attached to me, i’m dangerous.” you sighed, wishing your heart would just give up and let him in.

“do i have to say it again that i don’t care?” he replied cooly, but you could see his composure breaking.

“you never even said that th-“ you were cut off.

“yeah, i did. i whispered it right after you walked out of my yard. because it’s true! i don’t fucking care that you say you’re dangerous! you saved my life, and now you’ve been kind enough to teach me how to defend myself. you make me feel confident when you praise what i do, and my heart absolutely explodes when you smile. don’t you get it (y/n)? i don’t care who you are, i don’t care where you come from, or what lifestyle you have, i just really fucking like y-“ he was the one being cut off now. you decided to be bold and softly press your lips against his. then, all too quickly, you pulled away and basically crashed your foreheads together.

“okay, i get it, and i-i like you too. but don’t get mad when i let you into my heart and you hate it.” you said bluntly. “i’m never gonna be your cute, sweet little babygirl, anyone’s for that matter. i’m tough, and i’m in a gang, and i’m pretty independent, and i strike when i’m provoked. i’m never gonna be a little darling house wife cooking and cleaning and taking care of babies. i want to be out in the world, i just wanna run and explore and adventure til my heart’s content. and i, i’m never gonna leave the gang. they’re my family, my best friends, and i don’t want you to worry about me because of that. i’ll let you into my heart, but you might be disappointed.” at this point you were choking back sobs, and praying the tears that had pooled in your eyes wouldn’t spill over.

“like i said, i don’t care. i like you for you. you don’t have to be a sweet, girly, cookie cutter, house wife (y/n). because you’re the tough, independent, strong, cunning, gang member (y/n) that saved me, and taught me, and is stealing my heart. and i wouldn’t want it any other way.” he spoke, his fingers brushing away the tears that ended up spilling despite your efforts.

“r-really?” you asked.

“yes.” he responded. “now, you went through all that trouble to help me learn something, let me make it up to you.” a dark glint was now in his eyes.

“w-what do you m-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence as he picked you up bridal style and smashing his lips against yours, taking you to his bedroom. he laid you down and reattached your lips together, his hands running down your sides and you shivered. he detached his lips from yours and smirked at your reaction, before dipping his head back down and pressing soft, tender kisses to the area he accidentally punched, and you swore you’d never felt so much love. he also placed a quick peck on the tip of your nose, before his lips dragged down to your neck, almost immediately finding your sweet spot. you gasped and involuntarily brought your hands up to lace through his hair.

“is this okay (y/n)?” jinyoung asked, bringing you back into reality.

“yes, more than okay.” you smiled. he smiled back before bringing his lips back down to your neck, his hands curling themselves in the hem of the shirt you were wearing.

“you look so good in my shirt, but i think you’d look better with it off.” he said, winking cheesily, and causing a laugh to erupt from you. he reached his hands up a little to pull it off, but you beat him to it, removing the shirt and throwing somewhere on the floor. he frowned over not getting to do the honors, but then quickly his eyes went wide as he took in your bra clad chest. “wow, (y/n) you’re so beautiful.” jinyoung awed, his hands moving around your torso and to the clasp of your bra, and gave you a questioning look.

“go ahead.” you smiled, your eyes half lidded and hazy, heat making its way between your legs only from the soft feeling of his lips and the looks he was giving you. the second he pulled it off and added it to the pile of clothes forming, he brought his hands up to brush his fingers over your chest, one finger circling your right nipple and you let out a breath whine, moving your hands around his neck to have him closer.

“aw, you’re so sensitive.” he remarked sweetly, pulling away slightly to remove his shirt and shorts, and you didn’t even have time to admire his body before he pulled you in for another sweet kiss, but the kiss soon grew hot as he swiped his tongue over the seam of your lips, before you parted them and allowed your tongues to clash together. jinyoung placed his hand on the back of your head to pull you in closer, and his other hand began to give your nipples attention again.

you moaned into the kiss and pulled away, needing to breathe, and to admire jinyoung’s body. your breath hitches as you took him in. he wasn’t super muscular but he was toned and fit and he looked absolutely breath taking. you ran a finger down his torso, tracing imaginary lines, and let out a soft chuckle as you looked at him, head thrown back and eyes shut.

“you’re not so bad yourself, jinyoung.” you kissed him, running your hands down his shoulders and over his arms, and back up again. you felt like you were in heaven right now, and you wanted more. suddenly, you stood up, daringly removing every piece of clothing you had left. you were completely bare in front of him, and you blushed a little, but it also ignited a fire in your core. you were one step closer to getting what you wanted, what you needed.

“how are you so perfect, (y/n)?” jinyoung gave you a once over, and smirked. “lay down babe, i still owe you my thanks.” he motioned towards the best and a frisson of excitement dancing down your spine as you laid down on the bed. he parted your thighs with his hands and looked down to your most intimate area. you felt the need to close your legs as a sudden bout of shyness coursed through your veins, but jinyoung had a strong grip on them.

“jinyoung, do something.” you whined as the heat within you blazed hotter.

“anything for you, baby.” he replied and suddenly you felt a finger brushing your folds. you moaned louder than you should’ve, but you couldn’t find it in you to be ashamed. he kept teasing you, brushing the tip of his finger over your folds, and you couldn’t take it. you needed more.

“jinyoung.” your voice was a breathless whine, and your body was trying grind against him to feel even the slightest bit of friction.

“shh, shh, i’ve got you.” he reassured, immediately dipping one finger inside you, and groaning. “you’re so wet already, is this all for me?” his smile was cute and boyish, but his voice was cocky and seductive, and you couldn’t help but moan at the duality he had going on, and the feeling of another finger entering you.

“yes, all for you.” you couldn’t even speak straight, a moan cutting off your words. “jinyoung!” you gasped when you felt his thumb rubbing at your clit in tight circles, changing the pressures he used on your sensitive bud.

“hmm, so pretty, aren’t you?” jinyoung smirked and brought his lips back down to your sweet spot, suckling lightly, but just hard enough so he would leave a small bruise. he began to pump his fingers and rub your clit faster, and you moaned louder, your hips lifting up involuntarily, then crashing back down, your body not knowing how to cope with the waves of pleasure washing through your body.

“jinyoung, i’m gonna-“ you felt like you were on the edge, just about to fall off the precipice, but he removed his fingers from your heat, and rubbing your clit agonizingly slow, before removing the contact there, too. you pouted up at him and he laughed, bemused, but the laughter died in his throat once you palmed him through his boxer briefs. you repeated the motion and a soft groan fell from his lips before he removed the underwear and crawled closer to you. you grabbed him and stroked him, and he was slowly becoming overcome with pleasure.

“i-i don’t have a condom.” he suddenly sighed, disappointed in himself.

“i got that weird implant birth control, it’s okay.” you reassured him, capturing his lips in a quick kiss.

“one more time, you sure you want this?” jinyoung asked, rubbing himself against your wetness, and you both sighed in euphoria.

“i’m sure.” you smiled, and that was all the confirmation he needed before pushing inside you slowly, examining your face for any signs of pain or discomfort. you kissed as he bottomed out, taking a second to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. the full realization of what was happening sent a hot flare through your body, and you then begged him to move. jinyoung started out slow, moaning out about your tightness, and you smirked, kissing his flustered cheeks that were coated with a blush.

“can i go faster?” the veins in his neck were becoming more prominent as he tried to hold himself back.

“yes, please.” you moaned, splaying your hands out across his back in an attempt to somehow feel him deeper. he began to pick up his pace, and your arms tightened around his body, bracing yourself as the speed of his thrusts caused your body to bounce under him.

“god, you’re so beautiful. i swear.” jinyoung practically growled, lowering his head to take one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, sucking softly before pulling off with a pop and giving your other one the same treatment. somehow, when he pulled away from your chest, his thrusts got even faster and deeper and you couldn’t hold back the euphoric sounds escaping you, and neither could he, groaning into your ear.

“jinyoung, i’m gonna cum...” you moaned weakly, minutes later when the coil in your stomach had tightened, and felt ready to snap. jinyoung brought his hand down to your clit and rubbed furiously as his hips clashed against yours messily, signaling he was close too.

“me too.” he moaned. “come for me baby.” he commanded, and that coil unfurled upon his words, and you let out the loudest moan you had all night as your hips lifted and your thighs shook as your orgasm washed over you. he wasn’t far behind you, only needed about three more thrusts before he released, moaning into your neck and thrusting slowly to ride out the high. all too soon, he pulled out and got up, giving your forehead a quick peck before bringing over a washcloth to wipe you clean, and bringing you your clothes. you stood up slowly, putting your clothes back on and immediately falling back into bed. jinyoung did the same.

“you know tonight is my last free night.” you told him, carding your fingers through his messy hair.

“i know. when can i see you again?” he asked.

“anytime you want to. i mean, this makes you my boyfriend right? i wouldn’t want to go a long time without seeing my boyfriend.” you feigned.

“yeah, i’ll be your boyfriend.” he answered quickly, bluntly, to the question you never officially asked. you gave him a bright smile and soft peck to inaudibly voice your approval. “where can we meet up?” he asked.

“you could come to my side of town.” you suggested, smiling at the irony of telling him that now.

“oh, i thought it wasn’t safe for me there.” jinyoung spoke in a mocking voice.

“obviously you can fight.” you motioned to your face and laughed. “you can save yourself this time.” you snuggled into his chest, and he gave you a kiss on the head.

“you mean you’re not going to help me out if i get jumped again?” he asked, feigning shock.

“nah, you’re on your own this time.” you laughed, snuggling deeper into his arms, feeling more secure than you ever had before.

fin.

author’s note: happy new year! i hope you enjoyed this, i was kind of nervous writing this because it was my first request, but i hope it turned out okay. just go to my ask box to request something of your own!

#littleflowerfics #got7 scenarios #got7 jinyoung #got7 smut #park jinyoung smut

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addytheheartbreaker · 5 years ago

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Yandere! Joen x Addy x Overprotective! Nicol part 3

(Warning: this part story is angsty and trigger warning themes for only 16+ contains mild swear words, violence, hurt and comfort and death mentioned of the following story that you are reading. Please advice you to not read it if you are uncomfortable of this topic, thank you.)

(This is gunna hurt me as hell, believed me)

*Joen's POV*

Early morning, a perfect time to wake up since I couldn't sleep properly. I haven't got thoses sleeping irritation since my asylum days. Anyway, waking up early on 6:03 am, I wore my comfortable and simple straightjacket that could fit me if he came to happen on my way, the amusement park is still closed yet I'll be back to open on afternoon once I am done with him. I couldn't help but excited to see her.

Teleporting on my way inside to the Dog mansion, I am outside Doll's door. The halls are quiet then I ever expected, I was expecting his step siblings or one of the dog brothers to patrolling or sensing a presence throughout the hallways or around the mansion to guarding any intruder to their property. Thank the lord for having this gift of power to be able to get inside without going to this place with my own feet. That would be the pain in the ass you know?

I teleported again inside with my sleeping beauty covering with transparent curtains around the mattress. My guardian angel is wearing the same pajama dress and she is surrounded with her stuffed toys as some of her other stuffed toys fallen at her bed alone. Picking up those plushies to return back to the owner of these plush toys, I moved the curtain to get her fresh air to her sleep as I sit beside her sleeping form.

She sprawl up straight with her head tilted on her right slumbering so peacefully. Is she supposed to wake up early this hour? She told me she will sometimes wake up so very early either 2 or 5 o'clock in the morning for no reason on her own head. Maybe insomnia or a sleeping disorder? Her own guts that woke her so early? It is complicated to understand herself with those situations to notices her issue. She looks so very tired. Did she wake up all night again or her work from her gang's status checking if her whole empire is under control with Doll still hiatus.

It doesn't matter to find out myself when I look at her as I started fuzzy again with my own feelings for her. I want to confessed to her. To be honest though, she looks just like Jessica Rabbit but much more different and better then I ever have in my life. Addy, my guardian angel, the Doll who saved me, company me my lonely days at the asylum, listen and understand me. But the only one thing that would complete the list is loving me dearly. The real Jessica Rabbit loves her husband Roger Rabbit, not by the looks but loving him for who he is honestly. She doesn't want to loved a man by their looks like some girls attracting to guys with muscles and charming features. Jessica loves Roger of everything about him, making her laugh and make her life happy.

That is what I thought of. I've been imagining myself as Roger Rabbit since that is what everyone called me before and my favorite childhood cartoon character. A silly, goofy and charming rabbit who makes everyone happy with my humorous tricks and magic to entertained them. But what is missing is my own Jessica Rabbit. That is where Addy came in. I noticed of how much she acted just like the female cartoon that I like. I said it many times in my own head: beautiful, lustrous, elegant, kind and gentle, a strong woman, serious, simple and a true babe she is. Doll is somehow a much more better version of Jessica. I liked a girl who is a bit shorter than me, simpler and unique, a good girl who secretly a bad girl inside and a wonderful personality.

Gazing on her sleeping position and hearing my own heart beat ringing through my ears and sweating a little as I gazed on her. Her long hair, her petite body, the feeling of love replaced it with longing and lust. I don't wanna rush things from her, but I couldn't help but gazed on her face until I stare at her lips.

Those pink lip of hers looks very divine and sweet through her well manner and shy/confident voice. I gulp while I keep staring at her lips as she sleeps very still. My heart and mind is telling me that makes me bite my own lip, I couldn't help myself no more as I leaned onto her carefully not to interrupt her slumber. My heart beats much more faster and my own guts twisted in excitement, I couldn't say no to her lips finally I leaned closely to her face with the help of my hand to cup her cheek to get a better angle as I finally kiss her.

My body twitch like an electricity spreading through my own body and heated up while I kissed her. Just as I thought about her own lips, so sweet and soft like a bunny. I kissed her deeply for more, I wanted more from her yet it so wrong if she woke up witnessing me kissing her without her permission. But I couldn't controlled myself of how much I needed her. God damnit, I could feel something underneath me painfully then my own hand started roaming down to caressed her abdomen and down to her hips.

Is this? Oh fuck it is happening. I wanted to kiss her even further to slip my tongue at her. I need her, no, I WANTED HER SO BADLY! SO BADLY THAT I WANTED HER AS MINE! I MIGHT GO FUCKING INSANE THE MORE I CRAVED THIS DOLL GIRL!

God, why did you make such a precious angel to make me feel this way, make me fallen to her beauty and kindness? She did deserved better then staying with that unstable mutthead, she belong to my wonderland where she can be safe and happy with those horrible people who had broke this masterpiece of a doll. How fucking dare they for destroying her and killing her several times while she is at her own era.

I didn't realized that have been kissing her for like an hour or long. I let go the kiss to stare of her lovely face again with a smile.

I snapped out from my own fantasy to hear someone interrupting the moment that I eagerly prepared for her just until I recognized voice then quickly glared at the person leaning back beside her door.

Oh that fucking asshole.

*Nicol's POV*

I couldn't sleep properly already, it was 6 o'clock in the morning and I can't get back to sleep. I always sleep on 12 o'clock but why didn't I sleep? Maybe I just worried to much? Maybe my problems are coming back? I already go through rehab to stopped drinking alcohol and drugs since 3 years ago. Why can't I sleep already?

I grunt myself angrily as I flop out from my bed as I lazily went my way to the kitchen to drink something to soothes me. Tea would be great to calm my nerves which only takes 15 minutes to prepared it. *sigh* such a nice aroma and taste, a bit bitter if I wish to add suger. Suddenly something feels wrong, very wrong. It felt like someone is inside the mansion unawared and possessive. I quickly finished my tea to investigate who the hell invaded my territory without my permission.

To my horror when I used my dog instinct to track down leading to Dollface's room. Prepared and ready myself in combat from the door and do a sneak attack to protect her. No one is going to hurt or kill my Dollface from me, I'll bite who evers faces to shreds real hard till I could taste copper tingling through my tongue.

The horror to my eyes suddenly changed into anger quickly. I quietly lean back beside the door, cross my arms, wearing my death stare look as I speak in a cold tone.

"What are you doing here, Rabbit?"

*No ones POV*

Joen glared straight into Nicol's eyes. Their eyes connected as sharp as a knife ready to stab to the death. Giving them silence between the two most former dangerous animals since Rivalry era, the two couldn't take their eyes off just until Dog's death stare breaks to analyzed what is going on. The Rabbit stands up from Doll's bed to greet him with his signature friendly greeting to pretend he had came in too early even if it means lying on his face.

Joen: ah, Nicol Mcgilles! I was just came here to check on Doll if she is safe. Well I guess she is still sleeping, I was wondering if yo-

Nicol: Cut the crap and stop lying to me Joen Roger. I know your game we used to played you Trickster.

Joen: *thought* did he just insult me? Wow, what a bastard he is. Well that is rude of you while I explained ya. *chuckles* if you could acted more nicely to me, I could have explained to you, ya crappy dogshit.

Nicol: *thought* grr that son of a- oh I knew he had hide something behind my back. That face that he was wearing. I repeat that again Psycho Bunny. What are you doing in Addy's room? Answer me with no shitty dodges yo got that?

The conversation became intense inside Addy's room, the atmosphere is not safe when the two keep their voices louder inside her room almost waking her up. Joen notices her movement still haven't waking up from their argument as the rabbit man dodges the dog man with a excuse.

Joen: why don't we go somewhere other than having our conversation here. Its very inappropriate for us to have this chitchat of ours while Doll is still asleep.

Both look down to checked Addy moving her head a little due to the noise which almost caught them from their loud voices if it keeps on going here. It is a good idea to go somewhere, but this pissed Nicol since she needed to stop the two from fighting. He hates to unleash his oldself back, but he had no choice however, he couldn't help but wanting to beat up Rabbit a lesson or two.

Nicol: yeah, good idea. Come this way Psycho Bunny, I'll escort you somewhere open to continue our discussion peacefully.

The two left Addy's room carefully not to disturbed her. Nicol escorted Joen through the hallways, guiding him the room much more open and a good choice to echo outside if anything happened, the dance room. That is where Nicol teaching Addy to dance since she haven't dance for a longest time and trained her to be ready for his performance in the Masked Singer. Two men face to face like a tournament ready to a fist fight, the two begin continuing their conversation earlier.

Nicol: okey where are we? Oh yes, What are you doing at Addy's room? Like I said, no shitty dodges for your nonsense of a lie. You are really bad at lying.

Joen: yeah, yeah I heard ya loud and clear Dog. I'm just here to get something what is mine.

Nicol: and that it?

Joen: taking Addy for myself. You actually just neglecting and forgetting Doll for a reason, for a reason of what? Your issues? your old self has coming back to ya? Oh that's right, your are just as horrible of day care as your old fucker doing when he is alive!

Nicol: don't you fucking dare mentioning the old geezer in this conversation, I am not like my ex master like that! I did what I did for her sake alone!

Joen: your sake, my ass! That is why you are getting in my way since you are a selfish, heartless and irresponsible motherfucker to leave her behind almost to her death!

Nicol: I don't understand Joen! What is it have to do with Addy anyway god damnit? Yes, I failed to know her unstable mentality is getting worse and her mental breakdown but I don't get the fact you kissed her. What is it have to do with her after I saw you kissing her?!

Joen: you always getting in my fucking way when you are beside her! I'm jealous for your closeness to Addy just like your own jealous of me and my brother's healing and strong bond together! I wanted her so badly to become as mine yet you happen to keeping her from me!

Nicol: *realization* are you saying you have a crush on Addy? Dude, do you have any fucking idea what you are doing right now with your head? You can't just kiss her while she is asleep. Just don't come near Addy with those creepy-

Joen: *thought* and that is what I am trying to fucking telling ya, yo mindless asshole! Don't you take my girl away from me!!! *grip tighten hands through raged* Fuck this and fuck you Nicolas! I'm taking her myself!!!

To be continue.... Coming up....

Joen's ending

#the masked singer human au #the masked singer #masked au #mask au #fanfiction #yandere! joen x addy x overprotective! nicol

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vgwriter · 6 years ago

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Breath of the Wild: A Review

A Little History

Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild came out in 2017 to universal acclaim and helped to successfully launch the Nintendo Switch. While that is far from a surprise, (the Zelda series is one of the most critically acclaimed and commercially successful franchises of all time) Breath of the Wild does take the series in a much different direction. It's focus is almost completely on exploration and is the most nonlinear of the series. It is the second biggest jump the series has made outside of going 3D. So, does it work? Well, the rest of the world and their mother seem to think so but here's my take on this game.

What I Loved

*SPOILERS*

#1-A Story to Remember

It seems odd to focus on the story when the game doesn't but behind the vast world and great characters is a subtle yet amazingly well executed story. The player finds Link in a DBZ healing pod after he is just awakened from a hundred year slumber of healing. He is told by the disembodied voice of British Zelda to defeat Calamity Ganon but wait, there's more! Turns out Link has amnesia from the fight he had 100 years ago trying to protect Zelda. After obtaining the Sheikah Slate (the games multi-tool), the player discovers there are photos Zelda locked in the Slate to help Link recover his memory. This is how the story is unfolded for the player. The struggles of the Five Champions and Princess Zelda are seen through flashbacks that explain how Hyrule went to sh*t. It is a simple and traditional method but it is effective when coupled with the games minimalist piano soundtrack and isolated atmosphere. It gives a heartbreaking insight into just how lonely and broken this version of Hyrule is and how much Link and the others lost.

#2-The Puzzles

The games dungeons are split up into two catagories: shrine and divine beasts. The shrines are smaller and have a variety of challenges in their 120 locations while the devine beasts are 4 large challenges with several moving parts. Most shrines are designed to be easy to follow but still make the player feel creative. This feeling of creativity stems from the developers themselves that made each level doable in multiple ways. Each dungeon is designed to test the players use of the games mechanics, the player can play it how it was designed or try to tackle it from another angle. One example from my personal playthrough was using a bomb arrow to light fire because I couldn't figure out how to light a torch through a gate. It worked but probably not the way it was designed to. While not every shrine has a variety of ways to solve them (mostly the trial by combat shrines), they are all intriguing challenges designed with fun in mind and feel rewarding when completed. The divine beasts are a similar story with a few minor details. The player must first find the map of the dungeon and then go about reclaiming terminals to free the divine. The map is a 3D rendering of the dungeon with an interactive portion that moves key parts of the beast around. This was a great design choice because it challenges the player to think of the dungeon as a moving puzzle and to consider how moving the pieces will help them advance to the boss.

#3-The World and Character Design

To say the world is stunning is an understatement. The design of the enviroment feels so natural to explore and interact with that finding Koroks is like spoting cognitive distortion in a high school drop outs racist rant on Facebook. I usually find map towers annoying in games like Assassin's Creed but in BOTW they are better integrated into the games exploration. Some towers are actually challenging to climb if Link doesn't have enough stamina or if the player just throws him onto a tower without looking for enemies first. They are like little challenges all their own and it is a great take on something that has been bland and stale since it was first introduced (to me at least) in AC1. Outside of the towers is the vast world that pulls the player into it with rewarding exploration in cute and helpful ways. The shrines are an obvious reason to explore but there are also Koroks, fun and unique side quests, and just cool stuff to find as well. The variety and density of things to do justifies the games gigantic map. It is one of the few games to live up to the idea of an open-world and keep it interesting throughout a 100 hour playthrough.

The art design, oh my cel shaded god, it's amazing. I'm not gonna pretend like I'm some art history major but the regional designs do some pretty interesting things with the enviroment. The five peoples in Hyrule have all appeared in previous titles but have been tweaked in some way for BOTW. The Gorons have a theme of raw strength throughout their entire section of the map, from their weapons to the steel planks on the streets of Goron City. The Rito's design is more centered on their freedom and ability to fly with the entire settlement resembling a nest. Seriously, everything has feathers. The Zora have an elegance in everything they own from the large city built from one large carving to the silver weapons. The Gerudo seem to be a shell of their former selves like the Hylians with ruins surrounding their two settlements. Their quality in construction and bejewelment of everything that shines shows what matters most to them, beauty and effectiveness. The Hylian design is European with a mix of far east in certain pockets. Hyrule castle is a great dungeon that actually lives up to the title of castle. Kakariko village is a weird area that doesn't fit into the Hylian design but c'mon, you can't go wrong with far eastern architecture. Each region has its own design that both fit its surroundings and its people and feels natural, like the people and land are truly living together. It's impressive that Nintendo was able to pull that off because it is not easy to do.

The characters are simply iconic, mostly. The four champions don't get a lot of screen time but they use what they have effectively. Daruk is a stubborn strong man with a great admiration for strength and brotherhood. Mipha is the white mage of the group with a thing for Link (which I prefer to Zelda). Revali is the arrogent prick of the group that comes around eventually. Urbosa is basically the group mom, being the most mature out of everyone. Each of these characters are simple but fill their role effectively and are all quite likeable (even Rivali). Their present day counterparts aren't as memorable though. I mean, outside of Sidon. Sidon makes me feel like I can do anything just by smiling. But everyone else I had to look up for this review. Yunobo is some shy kid that finally lives up to his potential. Teba is a proud warrior but really not that memorable. Riju comes close to being memorable but I still had to look her up. Outside of the champions and their descendents, Kilton made an impression on me. The Bolson company had one of my favorite quests and some of the funnier cutscenes. Each side quest character has that quaint old fashioned rpg vacuum writing. They all live in their own world and interact with Link for one reason.

Overall, the characters and how they interact with the enviroment are what make this game a masterpiece. The mechanics and story are what make it a great game but the world design is that extra step where most great games stumble to me.

#4-The Combat

The combat is simple but has a multitude of uses against the games enemies. Link has three moves: attack, shield, and shoot. Everything beyond this simple moveset depends on how the player equips Link or uses the Slate Ruins. If an enemy is mostly ice, fire weapons are super effective and vice versa. Thunder disarms anyone, including Link. It gets better than simple elemental weapons. If you bring a cucco to a battle and an enemy hits that cucco, a swarm of bird will rain hell on that unassuming bokoblin. Seriously, that alone gives this a 5/5! Also, the enviroment can be used as a weapon if it's set up correctly. If Link fells a tree and lines up the path right, it will attack the enemies. There is just so much to do in this game and it all works off of three simple actions. Perfect.

#5-Misc.

Some other things that stood out enough to mention but not enough to make a paragraph. The crafting is useful and not intrusive. Link can buy a house, which is always fun. The outfits are all great designs and useful in their respective enviroment. There are throwback outfits from previous titles (mostly through amiibos) and that is always cool. Zelda became a scholar and that was a great take, not just on Zelda but on the idea of fictional princesses in general. Link can cut grass. The variety of weapons is astounding. Oh, and uh, all this fits on a small little card no bigger then the last knuckle of my thumb.

What I Didn't Like

#1-The Weapons Fragile Weaponinity

The weapons break way too easy. That's it. That is the only thing I have to complain about this game. That shouldn't be all I have to complain about. I should have two more points to make at least but I don't. Nintendo has made a masterpiece.

The Score

This game shouldn't exsist, it's too good. The gameplay is simple but versatile. The enviroment is peaceful and relaxing while also being desolate and dangerous and this makes it fun to explore. The story and the enviroment fit so well together and compliment each other every time they connect. Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild is a 5/5 and the definitive way to make open-ended games.

#legend of zelda #zelda #botw #nintendo #video games #reviews #spoilers #5/5 #prince sidon #lady mipha #mipha x link #urbosa #daruk

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