#i will always remember you as the superior part of the love square that got paid dust | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ohhdaarling-blog · 3 years ago

Text

Pairing: Erwin Smith x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit / NSFW - 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Word Count: 6,402

Warnings: Established Relationship, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting fluff, Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Unprotected Sex, Modern AU, Florist AU, Love, Romance, Oral Sex, Male and Female receiving, Vaginal Fingering, Kissing, Happy Ending, Marriage, Soft Dom Erwin, Cum licking, female-bodied reader

A/N: First Tumblr post and who better than our wonderful, handsome blond Commander? 😊

“Father, but why do you still do it?” a young Erwin inquired, staring up at his father with adoration and bewilderment.

Mr. Smith placed lunch down in front of his son and sat adjacent to him. There’s a small smile etching on his lips, and he tipped his head towards the food. Testing the young boy’s patience for which he knows is limited. And Erwin knows his father won’t utter a word unless he obliged. So, as he munched on his sandwich, Erwin’s impossibly blue eyes widen larger. At the ready to listen intently as he always does when his father spoke.

“Well, I don’t do it every day, Erwin. But I was a boy, not much older than you are—”

Erwin chewed and swallowed quickly. “You mean you were young once?”

Mr. Smith ruffled his son’s hair. “Yes, son. Even I was young once,” he teased before pressing on.

A soft, subtly sweet scent encompassed the older Smith. He could still remember the days of soft petals and vibrant colors. Walking around with his own father, a mélange of flowers in his hands; not one the same in size or composition. He made sure of it. Just how no person was alike; they deserved a flower to match.

For the most part, everyone accepted one. Shocked smiles turned into appreciation and even those with blatant superiority complexes pacified the then young Mr. Smith, bringing a bud to their noses before turning to do a double take. The simple and kind act generally made strangers happy. Colored some humanity into the greying world.

Erwin looked thoughtful but reserved some skepticism. The kids at school weren’t as genteel. Not like how his father detailed in his story. But he’s tenacious to try and find any truth to his father’s message—

Do these simple acts of kindness genuinely make a difference?

In grade school, Erwin was dubbed ‘Eyebrow’ and ‘Flower Boy’. They got ignored of course for lack of creativity. Nonetheless, Erwin followed in his father’s stead, even after he tragically passed away, knowing the shoes he stepped into were incredibly hard to fill. He thought this as he’s stared at that single bouquet laid upon the freshly unearthed dirt before a gravestone.

For all the smiling faces he saw his father cause, upon death only a boy mourned him.

Those nicknames hitched a ride on Erwin’s back like a pest until high school. They slowly chipped off once Erwin grew more into his looks and body, met his best friends. Soon, the gifting of flowers shifted to being asked for them. For a flower from Erwin Smith was a symbol to flaunt.

Rancor clung to Erwin’s skin for most of his young adult life after that. He traded kindness for stoicism. Abandoned any notion of flowers. It was stupid. Scorned Valentine’s Day and purposefully avoided the floral sections of stores like they were a disease. The grey had him in its clutches, filtering his vision. For a long time, he didn’t care. What did it matter anyways?

That was until a pretty woman proved his father’s truth. And it smacked him square in the face.

Erwin had opted for a different route on his jog back to his downtown apartment near his college campus. It was there on that sidewalk where he was insistently handed the most vivid, abundant sunflower with golden petals so large, they stretch bigger than his head. Bringing it closer, he let the floral scent take him to his father.

“Wait,” he does a double take, calling over his shoulder and screaming at his legs to move even if they feel like mush.

It’s been a busy week from hell. To make matters worse, you haven’t seen your boyfriend in a few days, not that you’re counting. It isn’t rare considering his profession, but your body is thrumming and tingling with anticipation as to why he’s been distant. Having known Erwin for a while now, he never seems to beat around the bush. Since the beginning of your relationship, he’s made it a point to have and value open and honest communication.

For he knows he’ll regret letting you get lost in the crowd without so much as a thank-you.

So, why does this absence tug at your chest?

By closing time, you receive a short message that he’ll meet you at your shop. You sigh heavily and dust your hands off on your apron before you water some plants. Peeking outside, the suns glow is faint as twilight settles in. A few sparsely scattered stars sparkle in the sky. Still no sign of him.

Aimlessly, you scroll on your phone waiting and fidgeting bent over the back counter. The little bell above your shop door alerts you. Snapping your head up with keenness, there stands Erwin, clad in a three-piece suit. A jacket drapes over one of his forearms and there’s a hot disposable cup in the other with a familiar logo.

“Erwin,” you murmur fondly, lobbing your phone to the side, eyes lighting up as you take him in.

Though his shoulders slump and there’s a heavier drag to his gait, it doesn’t deter the dashing smile that stretches along his mouth. Just when you don’t think his eyes could shine any brighter, they look you up and down before he wets his lower lip. You completely miss a sneaky hand lock the door.

“Excuse me miss; I know you’re closing but I must get flowers,” Erwin says coyly, advancing more into the shop.

“Oh, you must?”

He nods diligently, a single strand of hair leaving his usual left part. “Yes. You see, there’s a beautiful woman waiting for me, and I hear this is the best place to get them.”

Erwin stops at the table in the middle of the shop. He observes a vase brimming with red roses and takes a petal in between his accessible fingers. He’s so gentle in his touching of the flower. Your eyes are captivated by his large hand to the small bud. A demure laugh escapes you as you scurry around the counter and approach the tall man.

“Well, I can personally attest that I am the best florist in town.”

“Humble, too.” Erwin peeks over at you again, the beginnings of a smirk tugging the corner of his lips. “So, will you help me?”

After hemming and hawing, trying to make him squirm— a futile effort—you place a hand on your hip and tilt your head to the side. You’re unsure of what Erwin has up his sleeves, but this charade of his piques your curiosity enough to appease.

“On one condition.”

“Pray tell,” he intrigues.

You smile. “You have to return and tell me how much she loves them.”

Erwin holds up three fingers; even his back straightens. “Scouts honor.”

“Before we get started,” you dally, now watching your own fingers absentmindedly rub a rose petal, “what kind of bouquet would you like? Or are you going on my recommendation?”

Erwin slowly, meticulously glances around the shop like he hasn’t been there countless times. It’s plentiful, home to various types and colors. A familiar scent wafts around him from the fusion of freshly watered flora. But even as he ganders, Erwin comes to the conscientious he wants this to be unlike any other bouquet. It’ll have significance and thus no one single flower shall do.

“I want it to be like looking at a dream.”

Your throat goes dry, and you could weep from how sweetly he says the words. “Like looking at a dream,” you manage to repeat back in a meek whisper.

You don’t want to break this façade, so you feebly suck in a breath to steel your composure while he nods. But you know your eyes are giving away your thoughts the longer they stare at the handsome man before you. Your heart ticks a beat. Erwin’s words are too surreal, even as they repeat in your mind.

As Erwin briefly glances to the paper cup in his hand, his smile becomes richer, surer. “I got this for you.”

“Oh, from Levi's tea shop? Popular spot lately.” You take the warm cup and sniff at the soothing aroma emitting from the small hole. It’s your favorite and you know he asked Levi to make it extraordinarily. “How'd you know what I'd like?”

“Took a risk.” Erwin flirts back adding a wink to his smile.

You’re riveted. Flustered, the fingers of your free hand fumble with your shirt collar, cooling your hot décolletage.

After a delicious sip of your beverage and clearing your throat, diligence fills your body as you occupy yourself with meeting his demands. There’s a reason he’s going about it in this manner. But anyone who knows you knows patience is a virtue you sorely lack.

Erwin hurries to point to the first flower, one that’s closest to you both. The air between you is palpable and raw. One of you is going to cave at any moment, he feels it, but Erwin quickly swallows before he resumes being a paragon of poise.

Stooping to an aluminum tin you pluck some peach-colored roses, shaking the droplets of water that you swear evaporate when they splash onto your hands. Once standing upright, Erwin hands you some little white daisies he grabs from a few pots away. Fleetingly, his fingers brush against yours. Now it’s his turn to yank on his collar, loosening his tie while some of his resolve slips.

When you both mull over chrysanthemums, he’s appreciative the light-purple ones are blossoming vigorously. Erwin follows behind you to the left wall where the creamy pink peonies are, admiring the way your apron strings sway also matches your hips. You beam when he leans forward to tell you what they symbolize. Love, romance, prosperity. And something else that’s been weighing heavily on his mind that’ll come later.

His breath raises the hair on the back of your neck, and shivers ripple down your body.

“Someone’s been doing their research. I might be out of a job at this rate.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Erwin lolls his head to the side, bright eyes gleaming with amusement, “was growing quite fond of our partnership.”

You give him a light nudge, momentarily breaking character while asking him what else he’d like to add as you pluck bad leaves off stems. The bulk of the bouquet is perfected with the addition of baby blue hyacinths.

Erwin is pleased at the bundle of flowers that now lay beside him. He’s resting his rear on the ledge of the back counter, ankles crossed. Smitten eyes watch you flounce about your shop to fill a vase and locate shears. His chest swells with affection. Though he quirks a thick brow when you return with more plants.

“Baby’s breath,” you wave a bundle of small clustered white flowers by the side of his face followed by, “eucalyptus leaves. Trust me.”

“I trust you.”

You chew over his words. It’s only three, but they hold such reverence. And the sincerity of his sentimentality doesn’t go unnoticed while you expertly preen and arrange the flowers. With Erwin’s assistance of course and now that he’s taken off his suit jacket, you marvel at the way his taut muscles move.

“You’d make a fine assistant.”

“Assistant?” he pivots to face you, offering a short laugh before his visage goes soft, relaxed. Beatific. A look only you’re benefitted. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“Erwin,” his name comes out breathily as you cease your actions to devote your attention to him, “what’s going on? I’ve missed you and—”

“Nosy, aren’t you? You’ll find out soon. Promise.”

If only you were paying more attention, you’d have caught his fragile timbre. All you can concentrate on is the prickling sensation from no contact that Erwin seems to currently foist upon you.

You purse your lips together in a sheepish smile, admiring your handy work. “You know I own this flower shop, right? I can acquire flowers whenever I want.”

“True.” Erwin lifts himself off the edge of the counter and spins to face you entirely, dropping the act. “But isn’t it special having flowers picked by someone who is in love with you? Knows you? Wants to spend their life with you?”

He places his hands at his sides and meanders around the small breadth of the worktop separating you two. The sound of his shoes is sharp on the concrete floor, tensing your body with every clack that draws near.

Your eyes widen, grateful you have something to lean on, but you don’t stop fussing with the arrangement. Even as Erwin looms over you, heavily breathing down your side. The clippers in your hands feel so heavy in your grasp you might plunge to the floor.

“Of course, it is. Flowers do a good job of expressing many things.”

One thing you quickly learned about Erwin is that he has a peculiar way of speaking. It’s like poetry; thoughtful and articulate but complex with a dash of double meaning. Tenderly, he takes your chin between his thumb and index finger. He wants the view of how much he’s affecting you because he can feel the rising heat that’s now permeating off your skin.

“Exactly and when met with all the flaws of thorns or wilting the person picking them is able to still see beauty and life. The vitality if someone would only tend to them, shed the bad petals, and leaves so they can flourish.”

Just as you’re about to speak, Erwin endures, “every flower should be given the chance to bloom.”

He’s made you wait long enough. You’ve been so acquiescent. And experiencing how you are reacting from mere words sets off something feral within him.

“Are we…” You trail off, heart fluttering in your chest.

Your eyes are swimming in Erwin’s rapacious blues, completely starstruck and unable to tear away. “Are we still talking about flowers?”

“Are we?” he asks lasciviously and raises up an eyebrow as he releases his hold, empties your hands, and discards everything to the countertop.

By the time Erwin has you up against the back wall under some dripping hanging plants, your inhibitions are long gone. The plants create an adequate curtain for the large window in the front of your shop.

Your lips press together. The exhale through your nose to steady your vivacious heart only makes things worse.

“Erwin,” you chastise, but you can only manage to mutter, “my back is getting wet.”

He lowers his mouth to the side of your neck and hums mockingly. “Only your back, huh?” His voice is smooth like honey, ricocheting off your skin into the quiet shop.

His cologne is piquant today. It mixes superbly with his woodsy soap and his own scent you’ve come to covet. So much so that you dip your head back and close your eyes, immersing yourself in an Erwin-filled fog.

He shuffles closer, squeezing a leg in between yours. When he leans in you push against his thick thigh, gently rubbing against the muscles. The friction is luring. Cupping the back of your head he brings it upright again while the other wraps around you.

“I want us to enjoy every second of this. Of each other.” Erwin’s words are adamant as he studies your face, ultimately keeping glued to your lips that you gnaw.

It only takes you a split second to think of your encouraged response.

“Kiss me.”

Erwin’s pupils enlarge. He lets out a low groan, deep from within this throat, before crashing his lips to yours. Forcing your shaking lips to part, he slides his desperate tongue inside of your mouth. The hand around you delicately comes to touch every inch of your sides and your back. Eventually, Erwin sneaks a hand under your shirt.

Your hands splay on each of his cheeks. Both of you are pushing hard against one another, practically melding into one. He starts kissing you harder with such a fervent need for intimacy it makes your head even more cloudy. Your body goes limp in his hold.

You need him closer, because close just isn’t close enough. You want the weight of his body smothering yours. Every vein in your body is throbbing. The taste of him lingers on your tongue, and its addicting. You want to taste more as Erwin drinks you for all you’re worth.

After Erwin relinquishes his hold of your head and pulls away, he takes that thumb and swipes the moistness from your swollen lips. Both of you are breathing arduously, chests heaving in succession.

“The back chair… chair room…” you stumble. “Shit.”

Erwin chuckles weakly for he too is overwhelmed, and you’ve barely started. “Take your time.”

“Chair. Back room. Now.” You motion with your chin in the direction ready to steer the tall man.

It’d be all too easy to scamper up the stairs to your attached loft, but your viscous daze has you by the throat and you need him.

He lightly strokes your back as he soothes you. “Sounds to me like you’re short on breath,” he coos in jest. Honestly, he’s been loving every second of this torture.

“And patience. Take me, Erwin.” You whine out a plea.

“Marry me.”

If there’s one thing Erwin does flawlessly, its render you dumbstruck—jaw slacking, eyes bulging dumb. All noise vanishes. The room spins. Flowers, pots, shelves are an opaque blur. Your tongue feels numb, saliva like glue, and you’re only able to huff out air, racking your brain for any coherent words.

“Wha—”

“I said,” Erwin dips his pelvis to dig deeper into yours and a moan suffocates your airways, “marry me. If I don't ask you, I'll regret it for the rest of my life.”

“Are you…” You spare a quick glance to the window and gulp. “You know? One knee? Or something?”

It’s so traditional—God, you know it is and times have changed as far as proposals go—but damn it, it’s all you can manage to spill out.

The degree to which Erwin is enjoying your reaction is immeasurable. Your sass he likes but experiencing you about to turn into a puddle he loves. He complies with your non-request and kneels in front of you, eyes never leaving your face. His large hands lace with yours and lightly squeeze when he places a chaste kiss to them.

“Better?” he quips before his expression and tone become serious. “I never imagined getting married. Said for a long time I’d leave it for better men. But you’ve been a welcomed warmth I realize I can’t endure without, be better without. So, I ask… will you marry me?”

Always one for speeches.

You don’t miss a beat and sink to the floor with him, fists full of the sky-blue dress shirt collar that you bought him. “Yes, Erwin Smith. I’ll marry you.”

Foreheads gently resting against together, sitting on a cold concrete floor, Erwin pulls you into his arms. His hugs are like the sun exerting rays and embers of warm effervescence; the world completely stops as the feeling swathes you in a homey safe haven only Erwin can create. You inhale and feel even more alive.

His lips connect with the closest patch of your skin. Tongue agonizingly laving up your neck. He feels your erratic pulse beat against the muscle and a cheeky smile is unavoidable. Nor is the confident chuckle that resounds. Along your jaw, Erwin scatters hot kisses, smudging a trail with his wet lips to your slightly parted mouth where he waits.

Just the sound of two hearts beating loudly in the space. Enough to feel and strong enough to drown out the world but Erwin’s eyes. They’re so solid, a lustrous glacial blue that you swim in. The simmering heat in the bottom of your stomach soars to your chest and spreads faster than wildfire to your face, your legs, and aching cunt. Frantic eyes dance together before Erwin stands you both up, guiding you to the stairs.

“Wait, the front door, its—”

“Locked,” he affirms, ushering you up to your loft.

Both of you are tearing off your clothes in a frenzy once inside. Apron flung near the front door, shoes hidden underneath pools of pants, and Erwin hurls both your shirts somewhere. Quick to rekindle the flame between your now exposed skin.

When you enter your bedroom, and whoosh all your clean, needing to be folded laundry to the floor, Erwin’s on the prowl barely giving you enough time to turn on a string of lights above your bed.

His body exudes heat as he pulls your back flush against his chest and that causes you to tremble. Burrowing his nose in your hair, lightly touching your neck, deft fingers unhook your bra for his large hands to grasp your breasts. To rub them beneath his massive, strong hands, to feel and squeeze. Rolling your nipples between his fingers, he rocks both your bodies side to side.

“Tell me," Erwin ponders. "Tell me you want me.”

“I want you. God, I want you, Erwin.” A whimper chokes out of you.

You feel his hard cock twitch and your mouth salivates. Only boxer-briefs separate you from eliciting the sweetest grunts and moans from him. It doesn’t take much to struggle free and turn towards him. Your hands roam his chest, ghost over his muscular stomach appreciatively, until you’ve knelt in front of him, and scoot so your face is level with his protuberance.

Taunting the rim of the waistband, you slowly drag his underwear down until you’re graced with the sight of Erwin’s thick cock. It weeps at the slit, already greedy for you. Your fingers curl around it and he sucks in a ragged breath when you gently kiss the tip.

“Don’t tease me, sweetheart. It’s not ni—”

Wanting him to feel how desperate he’s made you this evening, you hasten your pumping back and forth while casing your hot mouth around the first couple inches. It’s enough that Erwin can classify it as fucking your mouth while he suppresses a groan by gritting his teeth. Your drool gets sloppy all over your lips, his cock. It dribbles down your chin, but your tongue is too busy lapping ardently to worry about licking yourself clean.

Erwin’s head lolls back traitorously and he fists a clump of his hair, mussing it up. “Oh. Fuck—”

Flames of desire ignite his skin. Any hotter and his flesh might sear off. The lewd sounds of your mouth popping on and off of him are divine. When you remove your hand and guzzle as much of his cock as your throat will allow—sputtering and gagging—Erwin reels back not ready to cum just yet.

“That’s for always giving orders,” you mumble, batting your lashes up at him.

“Heh,” he tuts wryly before going serious, “up.”

Stepping out of his underwear, Erwin kicks them to the side and moves to the foot of the bed. A salacious grin etches on his face when you bounce on your bed, on all fours shaking your ass and glancing back at him. As if you’re the one in control. Adorable.

The broad blond reaches for your ankles and drags you to him. There’s a soft yelp that goes ignored as he flips you on your back. Only when your ass is half-way dangling off the edge of the bed, does Erwin get on his knees. Delicately and sensually, he caresses above your panties with his thumbs. Then he shimmies them down, taking one leg out at a time to place on each of his shoulders.

“Erwin...”

He stays silent, simply admiring your glistening cunt while positioning himself in between your legs, pushing your thighs apart. It’s fucking hot seeing him like this, ready to ravage you. The first thing you feel is that hallmark of a nose burying into your soaking wet folds, but when his tongue starts to lap up your mess, your pelvis erratically and involuntarily bucks.

He clicks his tongue and nips your inner thigh as a playful warning. There’s a smugness in his tone when your breath hitches from the sting.

“Ah, ah, ah. Down.”

Lightly, he presses on your lower belly, holding firm so you’re left to writhe flat on the bed.

You just can’t seem to catch a solitary win tonight.

Pulling your folds apart, Erwin plunges his tongue into your hole at the same time he moves a finger to circle your clit. Ecstasy sparks along your sensitive skin and pleasure shoots through your cunt as you shamelessly and loudly chant, “there, oh yeah, there. Don’t… stop.”

You hear him snicker darkly, currents vibrating inside of you. And your legs push on his back wanting him buried inside as far as he can go. To hell if he can breathe. That tongue is miraculously working you over. There’s no remorse for you, that much is evident in his thoroughness.

"’S what you get for teasing me.”

Erwin leans back on his haunches before you can have any sort of release. The cool air hits between your legs and you splice them, catching your breath. A few more minutes of that and you’d be an unmovable heap. But Erwin has other plans for you. He wants to feel you cream on his cock, wants the satisfaction that he riled you up and pleased you.

After crawling back into the middle of the bed, you draw Erwin to you with your lusty eyes, observing the sheen on his face that he wipes away with the back of his hand. Carefully, he joins you on the bed, massaging your limbs until his hands are on either side of your face. Inclining his face towards yours, he lays his mouth on you first. The tips of your fingers graze along the column of his spine, coaxing him to press his body to yours.

This kissing feels different than others before. Evoking emotions and sensations you never knew you were capable of while your tongues merge and flick. Erwin feels the same because he’s being methodical and presents a gradual gradation of intensity. One that makes you both cling for life to each other in this dizzying moment.

“Are you ready?” he pants, words melting onto your lips.

“Yes, I want you inside me. Want to feel it all.”

Slowly, he hauls himself up, kissing down your throat, and sternum. You bend your legs, separating them for Erwin to settle in between again. With languid movements, he strokes his cock, eyes soaking up your spread naked body. Every dip, curve, mark. They’re beautiful. And he takes his time ogling the malleable skin of your breasts that he quickly reaches down to grope.

Erwin inhales deeply when his tip brushes along your slickness. Coating him too deliciously that he bows his head down to watch himself plunge inside. He hisses once your scorching hot walls surround him entirely.

“Mm,” He feverishly licks his lips, where your taste lingers, and he praises drawing out each word, “you take me so well, my gorgeous, gorgeous girl.”

You part your legs more, toes curling into the sheet beneath you from his healthy, well-endowed cock. And your hands are everywhere. Grasping the bed, in your hair, reaching out for Erwin all while you’re jutting your hips up to get him deeper and moving.

“Fuck me, Erwin. Please. For the love of God.”

“Hush, baby. We’ve a lifetime for fucking. Let us love.”

“Not long enough.” You pout.

His skin crackles with arousal when you clench, but he wants you both to enjoy this, so he tempers his hip movements to a gentle roll. With each drag out of your cunt, he shoves back inside just as slow. The sticky squelching sounds drive him frenetic. He’s disgustingly drunk on it.

“Je…sus Christ.”

All piety is forsaken when Erwin shakes his head and finally acquiesces to your demands. Rough hands yank you closer to him ready to rip you apart as he lets the beast within him take over. Ramming into you with ferocity, pounding as hard as he can without loosing control of himself.

But after the last few hard thrusts, he pulls out of you, emitting an aching groan from how sensitive he is. Afraid, he quickly glances down to make sure he hasn’t cum prematurely. After all these years and countless romps, you unequivocally still affect him. To the point he wants to cum almost immediately somedays.

Hot tears teem your eyes. From desperation. Or from the warm tension building within you again you’re unsure because he feels too good inside you. Stretching you so tight like a rubber band begging to snap. You yearn for him to fill you so you can both release together. Solidify your agreement to the man you are so madly in love with.

Erwin shakes his head and slips his cock back into you, momentum at half-speed, but not lacking. Hands gripping the bedding at your sides, he lists forward. You seize the opportunity to wrap your legs around his waist while your hands tug his head nearer.

An alleviated sigh escapes him. This new pace is manageable, and your needy little sounds justify the change. For a bit.

“What’s wrong?”

His brow furrows, catching your face underneath the faint light above you both. Shifting his weight to one hand, he cradles your cheek, ceasing his motions but remaining inside of you. There’s a bead of sweat that drops to your chest, and you decipher it’s time for you to put in some work. Perhaps the new position will create the sweet friction you so distraughtly need.

Propping up on your elbows, you purse your lips, facing away as you mull it over. Tonight is special and the last thing you want Erwin thinking is he isn’t loving you properly.

“Look at me.”

Tenderly, he redirects your gaze to his. Concern paints his features, as he tries to calm his breathing so his rapidly beating heart isn’t deafening.

“Can we…” you falter, eyes searching his face for any hint of annoyance or irritation. When you find no such thing, only patient worry, your unease melts away. “Let’s try something else.”

“Of course.”

Erwin doesn’t dare argue, knowing whatever you have in mind will be a treat. He kisses your forehead before the quick exchange where Erwin’s the one sprawled on the bed, half leaning against the headboard and long legs stretching out.

Waggling a finger, he beckons you to come to him. You let him guide you onto his lap where his cock is stiff and potent. Gliding it between your fingers you line it up to your cunt and slide down.

Your hands come to grip his shoulders, nails digging into his muscles while you rake your teeth over your lower lip. Erwin fills you deeper this way and being the gracious, giving lover he truly is, waits for you to get comfortable. With legs bent, you push snugly against Erwin’s outer thighs. Letting him know he’s trapped in your confines with a mischievous grin.

“I’m going to take you now, Erwin Smith.”

His eyes widen, brows ticking up. Eliciting a whine from his lips. Sure, you’re both in a new position but when did the fucking roles reverse? And why is he even more aroused?

“That so? Show me how it’s done, pretty girl.”

The little flicker of submission warms your belly. Pawing at him to sit up more, Erwin’s arms embrace you, flush and firm against your back with his hands tangling into your hair. Gaining a steady balance between rocking, bouncing, and Erwin fucking up into your cunt, he lowers his mouth to your collarbone. Teeth a menace across your skin.

“It’s too good… ‘s too good."

You try to breathe, moans and whimpers continuing as you bring a breast to his mouth for his tongue to swirl around your nipple. He sucks, releases, and pushes with his tongue, before taking it again gently between his teeth until your breast pops from his mouth. He waits to shower the other one, but you softly collide your forehead against his and lock eyes.

Erwin’s hands release your hair and completely wrap around you, pressing you hard against him. Hip movements cajoling your body to give into the pleasure so you can cum together. Your clenching is more frequent, and it doesn’t take his astuteness to know you’re close to that sweet surrender.

“Erwin—” you cry out. The coils twisting, winding; orgasm brewing. Too tight and it hurts.

His nose tips against yours, eyes unwavering. His balls feel tight as his own release is teetering on the precipice.

“Where d'you want me? Tell me where—”

“Inside, inside." You urge, knowing you're on your birth control. "Please. Still on it.”

Erwin catches on quickly to your meaning. “Well, since you asked so sweetly.”

Those lips of his meet yours again and your body snaps, world exploding into fragments of glowing light behind your tightly clamped eyes. His grip tightens across your back, holding you into him, and pressing himself into you. The tip of Erwin’s tongue brushes your lips, insists entrance despite your haze, and you open enough to let him in, welcoming the urgent thrusting that sends a blaze of sweltering flames racing throughout your body.

You melt into a pool of wetness and love.

Your fingertips graze the nape of his neck, coming to play with the ends of his hair. Peppering kisses along his neck and tender underside of Erwin’s jaw that’s salty to the taste. He fucks up harder into you, if that’s possible, and the sound of his skin smacking against yours turns to a drumming in his ears as his orgasm rips through him. Spilling his load into you, Erwin groans as he does so.

Rolling both of you back onto the bed, and hiking one of your legs up, Erwin shoves his pointer and middle finger inside of you. Deliberate, forceful. Every bit of his cum will stay inside, despite the large load.

“Lick,” Erwin says, reaching his fingers to your mouth. “Taste the mess we made.”

Through your heavily lidded gaze you stare at his long, thick fingers that glimmer with both of your fluids. Taking them in your mouth, you rift them apart with your tongue making sure to lap up the mess in-between, too. With what little strength he has left, Erwin pushes his blonde hair damp with sweat out of his face before sucking your saliva off his fingers.

After he’s caught his breath, your dashingly handsome boyfriend—or is it fiancé now—stumbles to fetch a warm washcloth and water. Smirking, you tilt in your bed to watch him cross your living room to the bathroom. Damn he’s got a nice ass, you think while you wait.

Erwin helps you clean up, shutting down your protests to that you can do it yourself. Taking great care to gently wipe, for aftercare he takes seriously. Only when he feels done sufficiently enough does he insist on a shower where he pays extra attention to getting you both clean, massages your scalp, and lightly scolds you for dipping your sneaky fingers down his back to squeeze that ass of his.

“Don’t tempt me.” He thinly warns, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. Peeking down at you with one eye open, he catches your sleepy grin, fluttering eyes, and a calmness settles in his gut.

The hot water soothes your aches, while he relaxes with you in his arms, letting steam fog up the small bathroom for longer than you both ought to.

After a quick dinner and freshly replaced sheets, you both tangle into one another; a heap of limbs. He doesn’t mind your damp hair on his chest as he twirls a strand before skimming his fingers down your arm dotingly. His eyelids grow heavy, but he has enough energy to kiss the top of your head.

“I love you,” he mumbles.

The next morning, the soft sunlight peeks into your room through your curtains and warms your face. There’s also a heater behind you, one hand draping over you and cupping your breast. You rock giddily, encompassed in a feathery, frothy coziness.

“I love you, too.” It’s a quiet response as you snuggle closer into Erwin’s side where a velvety slumber lulls you.

The events of last night unfold in your mind and you reach up to lay your hand on top of Erwin’s who stirs, lips seeking out your shoulder, brushing back and forth. That light touch sends shivers to your nerves.

“What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?”

How fitting. You laugh and turn to face him, eyes basking his awaken form. “Please don’t quote Shakespeare this early.”

“That’s fair,” he rejoices in your laughter by joining. “But I’ll have you know—"

You reach up and gently pull him down to you. The rest of his words being lost against your lips. You should brush your teeth first, wash your face, but when Erwin groans low in his throat circling you in his arms, gathering you into his chest, you can forgo freshening up for the day for a little while longer.

After spending the morning revering one another, Erwin fills you in on an idea he has.

“How about on our way to pick you out a ring, we pass out flowers?”

Bumping your nose to his, you slowly blink. Heart filling with even more affection for him.

“I’d love that.”

Clothed and tidied, you both head down to your shop and accumulate a bouquet. Erwin is the first to exit, flowers in hand, but you tell him you’ll be out in one second. Sitting prettily on the back counter is your dreamy bouquet. And as your face softens you get an idea, heading to a particular flower that’s so happy it literally calls out to you.

Leaning on the building, Erwin’s eyes flit over to you before the yellow petals of the flower you possess.

“First one should be yours.”

He takes it courteously, leaning to firmly kiss your temple while you lock up shop.

“Who knew you were such a sap?” He jokes as you walk down the sidewalk, disappearing into the Saturday morning crowds.

Deep down Erwin knows he’ll always be thankful for that very first sunflower.

#erwin smith #erwin smut #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin smith fanfiction #erwin smith fluff #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction

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frozenfries · 3 years ago

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Hi! I kind of fell in love with the way you write Cypher and was wondering if you could like maybe a very angst/hurt heavy Cypher x Reader. Like reader has radiant powers but they’re slowly deteriorating the host. Sorry if it’s a bit weird of a request. I love your work.

Hey! It’s definitely not a weird request and you’re so very kind in your words. I’m more than happy to practice writing for Cypher once again. Thank you for your patience and I hope I did him justice!

Square One (Cypher x Reader)

Prompt: Cypher was always prepared to lose you, but he didn’t realize how much it would hurt.

Word Count: 871

• After losing Nora and his little one, Cypher hadn’t bothered fantasizing about being in another relationship. He’d already been down that road, and nothing good had come of it.

• So it was just his luck when he realized he was falling for you, the one with a ticking clock on their life. Your unique sense of humour, your sharp wit, your superior chess playing skills… he always knew you were too good to be true.

• “A real mystery…”

• You were a rare case of Radiant - you were able to turn back time, which saved the lives of your team several instances over on missions. But every time you used your ability, your lifespan got shorter.

• Despite your impending death sentence, you had a deep desire to help others and dedicated the rest of your days to fighting those from Earth-2. Even more so, you did it with pride, determination and confidence.

• Cypher vowed to cherish the time you had left. But being no stranger to pain and loss didn’t make your last moments with him any easier to handle.

• Your death day arrives when you rewind time to prevent your team from dying after a spike detonates.

Cypher should have known better than to fall for someone living on borrowed time.

Foolish.

He felt his stomach drop as he saw you laying on the ground beside the spike, trying desperately to regain your breath. Your chest rose and fell, your face covered in soot, your armour tarnished. He knew what this was, but it looked so much worse this time around.

“We were too late, weren’t we?” He spoke quietly, a familiar ominous beeping sounding in the background behind him.

You nodded, a dry cough escaping your parched lips. “Yeah, but thank goodness I saved you in time. I prefer you alive.”

He shook his head incredulously. Even in a grim situation like this, you cracked a joke to make him feel better. But nothing made him feel good about being saved in exchange for you dying in his place.

Well, at the very least he wouldn’t let your sacrifice go to waste. Quickly defusing the charge, his shoulders sagged in relief once the action had been successfully carried out. He made a motion to radio for Sage next, but your hand shot out and gripped his wrist with surprising strength. In this line of work, you never thought you’d be in the position to ask someone to-

“Stay.” The single word was commanded in a hush, but Cypher heard it loud and clear. “She can’t heal me.” Swallowing, he gave a slow nod, though remained unsure of what to do next.

You stared at him for a few beats, looking almost peaceful where you lay. “Do you remember what you said to me the first time I beat you at chess?” You chuckled at the memory, recalling how a first date had been hanging in the balance: if you won, you got to take him out. “When it came to the prospect of a second chance at happiness, you said you’d never see it - not after losing your family. I told you that one day, I’d open your eyes and prove you wrong.”

He looked down, squeezing your hand tightly. He could feel a sharp prick in the back of his eyes. He could tell where this was going. “And then the first time you took me to the spot that you visit every year to remember them, you said to me-”

“I want you to know… that I see it now.” Cypher let out a strange sound as he finished your sentence. You couldn’t tell whether he was laughing or crying, though maybe it was a little bit of both. A small part of him wished he never even met you, let alone fallen in love with you - not when he knew it would end like this. But a bigger, more naïve part of him knew he was only lying to himself thinking that. At the end of the day, he was a human being who yearned for a happy ending, to find someone who wouldn’t leave him like he’d been left already.

But that was wishful thinking.

“Do you regret it? Being with me.” You looked away, almost scared to know the answer.

His head snapped toward you and he quickly cupped your face. “Not for a second,” he admitted firmly, the pad of his thumb running soothingly over your cheek.

“Hey, Amir El Amari,” your lips twisted up into a ghost of a smile as you’d heard what you’d needed to hear. “Be good…”

The man shut his eyes, tears seeping freely down his cheeks as you spoke for the last time, the liquid pooling at the bottom of his mask where it met his chin - hot, sticky, muddled with helplessness.

Though it wasn’t like anyone could see it.

Suddenly, he felt much older. Pitch black grief rose to the surface, coating his insides like poison. Wordlessly, he draped himself over your body in a never ending hug, resting his head on your chest, feeling numb as the last few heartbeats faded out of earshot.

#valorant #valorant x reader #cypher x reader #valorant cypher #cypher valorant

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op-imaginesandmore · 3 years ago

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How would Issho/Fujitora, Doflamingo, Smoker, Arlong, and Gin react to their s/o dying in their arms? (human s/o for all of them including Arlong) Sorry there are so many the posts you've made so far I've enjoyed immensely. I love your style of writing! (:

I know it’s been *checks notes* actual years since I have touched this blog, but I kinda wanted to try my hand at a few of the asks I have in my inbox. I’m going to do just Smoker, and with each of the asks with multiple characters I will pick the one I am most comfortable with writing and go from there. I hope you like it! And also, to anyone who reads this and likes it, thank you! But my ask box will remain closed until…idk, probably a long time. I don’t want to get any one’s hopes about about anything.

Pairing: Smoker x GN!reader

Warnings: Angst, character death (you asked for it), mild descriptions of injury, mentions of blood, implied smut (mildest of spice), unbeta’d if that is a warning

***

The OP was supposed to be a simple one. Get in, do reconnaissance, stay under the radar, come back with what info they needed on the pirate crew, get out.

No one thought Big Mom herself was going to recognize Y/N, because you were good at your job. You had been spying for the government for years, you’d worked with Smoker as one of his subordinates, had infiltrated countless pirate crews, revolutionary bases, treasonous scum that thought they could get away with anything, and had always succeeded in your job.

Lay low, go unnoticed, get the info, come back to him. It was a perfectly organized system that was like clock work, each gear turning for the purpose of civilian protection, and justice.

Until now.

Blood soaked the beach he was kneeling on, who’s it was, he had no idea. Could be his, was probably the pirates’ that were scattered around the Vice-Admiral like debris after a storm, but what infuriated him most was it was most definitely yours.

Wheezes, broken and wet, escaped from your lips, swollen eyes looking up into stoic grey that was like looking into twin hurricanes. Anger, righteous and intense, swirled around with frustration, concern, grief, and an emotion you knew from your quiet moments between soft sheets and the hard planes of his body.

So gentle you barely felt it, he lifted you from the sand like something precious, your blood dripping down his arms and pooling beneath your broken body. Your eyes, swollen and bruised, squinted up at him and a soft smile cracked painfully across your lips.

“Hey handsome” you rasped, a cough that was soaked with blood spurting out. Smoker put a large hand through your matted hair, jaw clenching as he tightened his hold on you.

“I’m gonna get you to the ship’s infirmary” he seethed through his teeth, the usual multiple cigars he kept there like pacifiers long gone. He made to get up, but the cry that came from your lips was shrill and heartbreaking. He immediately stopped, holding you to his chest in a hold soft enough for a newborn.

“I know it hurts, but you need-“

“Do you remember Alabasta?”

Smoker stopped, looking down at your broken body that had the audacity to be giving him the smile that always managed to make his heart flutter in his chest like a crushing school girl’s. He swallowed thickly, not trusting his voice and opting for a nod.

“You were such a baby about Strawhat, I thought you were going to implode when he had his crew mate save your life.” You reached a trembling hand to his face, stroking the rough stubble of his jaw. Almost involuntarily, Smoker leaned into the soft touch, turning his head to kiss your palm as memories of their time on the desert island came to mind.

It had been the first time you had ever yelled at him, calling him reckless and blind. Telling him you were thankful for Strawhat, grateful he had saved his “stupid, sorry, ass” so you had the chance to give him a piece of your mind. He had retaliated with a practiced speech about being your superior, about how you should worry more about your job than what he was doing, how you shouldn’t talk to him like that.

Then you had the nerve to yell at him that you didn’t have a choice but to worry about him. When he yelled at you back about the why, instead of answering him you kissed him square on the mouth.

Their first kiss was in the moment, it was all teeth clacking and sudden and Smoker had been blindsided, but also hadn’t been. The two of you had been flirting with the line between officer and government agent for months at that point, subtle glances and bold, shameless flirting on your part had morphed into soft and subtle touches and hours of listening to you talk about everything and anything.

When the shock of it had worn off a second after you started kissing him, he hadn’t expected for himself to kiss you back. He had adjusted your chin, softened the kiss, and wrapped his arms possessively around your waist and lifted you, your legs wrapping around his own waist in a way that sent chills down his spine as he carried you to his desk. He set you down upon it, gentle as can be, but your legs stayed around his waist, his hips grinding into yours in a way that had him growling. Your lips had been like soft, plush, velvet on his own chapped ones, tongue sinful in its exploration, running against his to beg for entrance.

The two of you broke apart, you were panting, your face flush as you put your head on his chest and listened to the quick thumping of his heart. He smelled like a cigar, a hint of sweet fruit in a haze of earth and smoke that always managed to make your head spin. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you licked the taste of him from them.

“I worry about you because I care about you Smoker” you looked up at him, your eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the sunlight coming in through the porthole of his cabin “probably more than what’s appropriate for a working relationship, but I don’t want to hide it anymore.” You put your hand on his face, stroking the apple of his cheek in a way no one had ever dared touch him before “if you don’t want this though, we can stop right now and never talk about it a-“

Smoker was kissing you again, softer but with a passion that turned your whole body into jelly that molded into his. It was brief, too brief for your liking but he was looking at you with a smoldering gaze that promised more.

“We do this, we tell no one.” He said with conviction “I can’t have my subordinates thinking I have favorites, and fraternizing could get me and you in a lot of trouble.”

You nodded, understanding alighted in your eyes as you coyly bit your kiss swollen bottom lip.

“If that means I get to see your smoke powers at work in the bedroom, I’ll take an oath of silence”

He felt his body react, his hardened length against your thigh making you squeeze your legs together, bringing him impossibly closer.

Smoker’s chest tightened at the memory.

“I’m glad” you said, swollen gaze growing distant “that it all happened the way it did. The last year and a half has been the best of my life” another cough, violent and cracking in its intensity that it had you whimpering into Smokers chest, and his eyes were burning with the tears that were inevitable now.

“Y/N-“ Smoker started, the deep rumble of his voice cracking “baby, you’re gonna be fine, let’s just-“ he took a breath, steeling himself to try and lift you up again, but your head falling limp against his chest stopped him, made the breath leave his lungs and, for the first time in a very long time, Smoker felt true terror grip his careful self control.

“Y/N?” His voice, so unlike the commanding bass it usually was, soft and broken as the body he held “Y/N? Sweetheart c’mon, wake up” he shook you, your head lolling to one side and then the next awkwardly, before it rested back on his chest and Smoker realized your uneven breathing had stopped, the rasping, painful breaths gone quiet and the only sounds to be heard on the bloodied beach were Smoker’s own uneven hyperventilating “Y/N please! You-you can’t do this! Baby, c’mon-open those pretty eyes, please! Y/N? Y/N!”

He held on tight to your body as he slowly broke down, the tears running rivers down his face that had smudges of your blood on it from holding your body up to it, his face buried into your hair as if he could revive you if he held on a little tighter, begged a little harder to whatever god or devil would listen. His cries broke through the silence, their only companion the lapping of water against the sand and gore. He rocked back and forth, clinging to your lifeless body like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

That was how Tashigi found her Vice-Admiral, sobbing into your hair as he begged you to wake up. Her heart shattered into a million pieces, but she had to keep him moving, had to remind him of the duty he still held.

“Vice-Admiral Smoker?” She breathed, caution in her tone, heartbreak threatening to pull her under when his breath caught. He looked up at Tashigi with a tsunami of emotions that she had never seen him display. Heartbreak and grief worked in tandem to make the ever stoic and statuesque officer crumble to his knees.

“I’ve gathered the survivors of our platoon, we’re awaiting your orders, sir”

There was a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch for an eternity, Smoker looking down at his dead lover, the emotions that had been raging across his face draining from his being, and was replaced once again with the careful stoicism that his position required of him.

He got up slowly, you still cradled against his chest as he looked out at the horizon. It was another long moment before he spoke.

“We bury our dead, then we take the fight to the one who started this.” There was a fury in his words that struck fear into Tashigi, a fear for how reckless her Vice-Admiral was about to be against a Yonko.

“But Smo-“

“Did I fucking stutter?” He whipped his head around, the grey of his eyes burning with an unbridled rage that seemed barely contained “I’m not gonna rest until every last piece of filth that carries the name of Charlotte are wiped from every ocean from the East Blue to Raftel.” He glanced down at the body in his arms, a soft, broken look before the rage hit again.

“They’re gonna pay for what they’ve taken, I’ll make sure of it personally.”

#smoker #one piece #Smoker x reader #Smoker One Piece #angst #crying #character death #tashigi

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awanderingdeal · 3 years ago

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I vote leo meeting the harvard team! 💕

So this fic has been a bit of a mare to write, but we are here!

You can read the first part of this here

Rating: T

CW: Alcohol, academic superiority complex and coming out.

Logan, Finn, Leo, Percy, Will and the general Sweater Weather universe belongs to @lumosinlove. The other team members were made up by me for this fic.

“Okay, tell me their names again,” Leo said, tugging at the rolled neck of his sweater as he shut the car door.

“Nutty,” Finn laughed. “There’s not going to be a pop quiz. We’ll introduce you when we meet people.”

Leo scowled, letting Logan thread their fingers together. It was weird being able to do this in public still and Leo couldn’t help but glance around. “I just don’t want to make a fool of myself.” Logan squeezed his hand reassuringly, meeting Leo’s gaze with a soft smile.

“Nobody expects you to know anything. And everybody’s great.” Logan wrinkled his nose like he’d just smelt something bad. “Except Wesley, he’s an ass, but I’ll point him out.”

Like many of the others in Harvard square, the building was all exposed brick and white accents, blending in seamlessly with those around it. Inside was different, more modern. Leo didn’t get to see much of the first floor, the one dedicated to the restaurant Finn, Logan and the rest of the team had dined at previous evening, before he was ushered up a grand staircase, but he’d seen the photographs. The cherry blossom ceilings and walls of glass provided the perfect backdrop for the instagram feeds of the hoards of celebrities and influencers that flocked there. Hence his surprise when, after checking their invitations again, an employee pushed open a set of double doors to reveal a room that more resembled a 1920’s speakeasy than anything 21st century. A loud cheer went up as they crossed the threshold.

“Is this a team thing?” Leo mouthed at Logan.

He got his answer from Percy Marshall. Leo had met him a few times before when they’d played the Rangers. “You’re the last to arrive,” Percy chuckled. “I’d say I was surprised, but that would be a lie.” He slapped a hand playfully against Finn’s bicep. Is this outfit change number 52, Finn? Don’t worry, you didn’t disappoint. You look wonderful.”

“Fuck you, Marshy,” Finn laughed. “Tremz was on a call to his sisters actually.”

“Oh, I do apologise,” Percy clasped his hand to his chest. “We wouldn’t dare break up a Tremblay soiree.”

“You’re an ass,” Logan scoffed, plucking at Finn’s slacks. “I was only talking to them because Finn was taking so long. Did you know there are several shades of mustard and only one of them goes with this shirt?”

“Oh look, they argue like an old married couple too,” William Morgan, another of those Leo knew, and Percy’s teammate on the Rangers, teased. “Marshy, these hands are looking too empty. Get these men a drink.”

“Aye, aye, capt’n.” Leo set to follow as Percy led the way to the bar, stumbling slightly as he found Will’s firm grasp on his shoulder stopping his movement. Logan turned as his fingers slipped from his hand.

“Go ahead, Tremzy. I’m going to introduce Leo to some of the team. We want all the gossip without you two around to censor him.”

Logan frowned. “I’m not sure -”

“Relax, Logan. This isn’t a hazing. We’ll be right over there,” Will pointed towards a group perched on stools around two of the tables in the centre of the room, a mix of the old team and what Leo assumed were their partners. “Knut’s a big boy. He can object for himself if he really doesn’t want to come.”

“I’m sure I can hold my own,” Leo cocked his head slightly and smiled. “You better not leave Harzy with Percy for too long. They’ll be three shots down by now.”

The next few hours passed in a whirlwind of introductions. Leo had lost count of the number of hands he'd shaken and the new names he'd learned. It reminded him of those first few days in Gryffindor, being shuffled around from place to place and everybody telling him he'd get used to it.

The quiet of the bathroom was a welcome reprieve to the chaos. “Sweetheart,” Leo laughed, listening to Finn sing to himself in the stall. “Are you okay? You’ve been in there a while.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” A concerningly loud crash preceded the door being pushed open. “I’m here.”

“You’re drunk,” Leo chuckled.

Finn pulled his hands from under the stream of water, shaking droplets everywhere as he squeezed the tips of his thumb and forefinger together. “Maybe just the tiniest bit.”

Leo shook his head fondly. “Let’s go and find Lo.” Glancing back to check Finn was following him proved to be a mistake. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he apologised, rubbing at his forehead and stepping back from the wall of muscle he’d just crashed into. Of course, the tall man with his hair pulled back into a loose ponytail was the one person Leo hadn’t yet met.

“Leo, this is James. Call him Hunter,” Finn grinned with his hand resting in the small of Leo’s back. "Hunter, this is -"

"Leo Knut. I know. Everybody knows," Hunter said and Leo noted the familiar notes of his own accent in the words. He faltered with his hand thrust halfway in Leo's direction, letting it fall back by his side. "Oh fuck, sorry man. Did you want to introduce him as your boyfriend? Go ahead."

"It's cool, no worries." Finn shrugged, the rounds of his cheeks tinged with the slightest of blushes. "Aww, what the heck!" He squared his shoulders, standing a little taller, the corners of his mouth splitting with pride. "Hunter, this is Leo, my boyfriend."

Hunter extended his hand again for Leo to shake. “Nice to meet you. Please excuse me, I have to use the bathroom now, but we’ll talk later.”

***

"Boys." The call had come from behind them and Logan groaned low in his chest as they turned to acknowledge it.

"Wes! You made it," Finn smiled, the corners of his mouth tight. "We weren't sure you'd be able to. With all those big meetings you have to attend and such. Is your wife, Renee, wasn’t it, here? I'd love to meet her."

Something flickered in Wes' smug expression. "They stayed in California. Nate has a very busy schedule. Harvard is very important to me, as you know, so I came alone."

“Isn’t Nate three?” Logan blinked.

“You have to give them a good start if you want them to get them to get into a good college these days, I’m sure you understand. Where was it you went, Leo?"

Leo pursed his lips, letting the same calm wash over him that he channelled for interviews. “I didn’t go. I got drafted straight out of high school.”

“Oh, well, that’s a shame,” Wes said. “College isn’t for everybody though, is it?”

Logan bristled beside him, and Leo placed a placating hand on his shoulder. “Indeed,” he blinked. “I didn’t need my intelligence validated by a degree then, and I still don’t now. And I was hardly about to turn down an offer from The Gryffindor Lions now, was I?”

Wes grumbled something that sounded vaguely like an agreement before turning on his heel and walking off in a manner that Leo could only describe as petulant.

“You’re so hot,” Finn took Leo’s face between his hands and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want another?”

“Please,” Leo nodded. Logan raised his still mostly full glass as a rejection of the offer.

“You should have let me punch him,” Logan huffed. “He would have deserved it.”

"And get blood on your shirt? Let’s leave that on the ice, shall we?” Leo tugged at the lapels of Logan’s jacket.

***

"So," Logan started as they claimed one of the low tables in the corner, a little tucked away from the rest of the room. "What do you think?"

"It's always nice seeing where you two started," Leo hummed, threading his fingers through the thin curls on the nape of Logan's neck. "I just don't know how you used to do this everyday. Live amongst all this energy. The guys all seem great, but it's a lot even now and I'm assuming you've all mellowed somewhat with age."

"I am not old," Logan scoffed. "Mais non, I agree. Wasn't always like this though. There's more than one graduating class here and we've been apart a long time. A lot of excitement."

"Sorry, sorry, I got caught up with Biscuit. He has triplets now, isn't that crazy?" Finn said, pressing a glass into Logan’s hand and setting Leo’s in front of him before flopping onto the couch opposite. "One Margarita for the fine sir."

"Thanks, Harzy," Leo laughed lightly.

"I can't believe him and Vanessa are still together," Logan hummed, taking a long sip of his drink. He leaned back, crossing his left leg over his right thigh and snaked his arm across the dark leather, brushing his fingers against Leo's shoulder. "I only introduced them because she was flirting with you at that party, the one just after we got back from winter break my junior year, and I wanted to distract her."

"Oh, so that's why you got all moody," Finn said. "She wasn't flirting, she needed help with an essay, idiot."

"The fact you remember Logan's mood on a night seven years ago says more about you than him," Leo snorted.

"First of all, Tremzy being grumpy? That's just a good guess. Second, some of us were still stupid at 20, Knutty." Finn sighed wistfully. "Hey, at least it doesn't feel like I'm being stabbed in the chest these days when I think about it. Progress, right?"

Logan tipped his glass in Finn's direction, nodding his head briefly. "I'll cheers to that."

"To -" Leo started, letting the toast die off as another of Finn and Logan's old team mates approached. He hoped the disappointment he felt wasn't written across his face; whilst he hadn't really expected to be left alone for too long, he had hoped for the brief respite to have lasted longer.

"Hey." The newcomer had his hand shoved into his pockets and his shoulders stooped, almost as if he was trying to hide himself. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Ken!" Finn patted the empty seat next to him. "Of course not. Come, sit."

Leo extended his arm, offering his hand. "Nice to meet you. Ken was it? I'm Leo."

"Ken's what the team always called me. Don't really hear it much these days." Leo thought he saw something sad in the smile sent his way. "My real name is Obi."

"That's because you went off the radar," Logan gave a pointed look.

"About that -" Obi swiped Finn's drink, ignoring his disgruntled protest. He drained what was left of it, pulling at an non-existent loose thread on his sweater. "I wanted to say thank you, you know. For having the guts to come out. I know Black and Lupin were first, but that was forced wasn’t it. You made a choice. I know that must have been hard. It was one hell of a ballsy move."

Leo looked between Finn and Logan, expecting them to answer, but neither of them spoke. "We didn't have much of a choice, not if we didn't want to be watching our back every second of every day."

"It was still brave," Obi muttered. "I couldn't have done it."

"Ken, what are you saying?" Logan never did have much patience for others taking their time to get to the point, even though he was a fan of the scenic route himself.

"They gave you a whole Harvard degree and you need to ask that question?" Obi huffed a laugh. "I'm gay. I met Marco, my now husband at the end of senior year, and freaked out. I didn't know how to make these two worlds work, so I didn't. I moved to DC with him, and started a new life. I'm an accountant, he works in marketing. We have four rats, and a Vizsla called Poppy. It's all very domestic. I love it, but I was a coward.”

"You're not a coward. You don't owe that information to anybody, Ken. Not the others, not the media, not the NHL and not us. Not now, not then, not ever.” Finn took a breath, holding up his finger to signal he wasn’t finished. “Besides, it's not as if Lo and I planned this. We went into this with every intention of stuffing this deep, deep into the depths of denial, never for anybody to find out. Including ourselves. And then Nutty came along.”

Obi smiled at Leo, turning his attention back to Finn. "When did you become Gay Yoda?"

"I spend way too much time in our psych's office. Just spreading the wisdom. Heather would be proud."

"Do the others know?" Logan asked.

"Not yet, I think I'd like them to though."

Logan shifted, leaning forward in his seat. "There's no rush, Ken. We've got your back, whatever you decide."

"So, do you have photos?" Leo cocked his head. "We got to show off. Now it's your turn. Even if it's only for us."

"Of Marco?"

"I'm sure he's wonderful, but I was actually talking about Poppy. And the rats," Leo teased.

There were moments when Leo wondered whether they had made the right decision. When he was playing in front of hostile crowds, or fending off stupid media questions, or blocking bigots on twitter. And then there were moments when he knew the decision they had made was 100% perfect. Right now, that was one of those moments.

#leo knut #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #rating:t #cw:alcohol #cw: academic superiority complex #cw: coming out #sweater weather #lumosinlove

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botherkupo · 2 years ago

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fic ask thing!! Kinda wanna do all of them. Hmmmmm. Well okay then you’ve forced my hand

1. My fav fic of yours is Lie for a Lie! It’s a classic and one of the first things I read of yours so it’s what made me a Boogum fan and led to us being friends :) so it will always have a special place in my heart

2. Fav chapter in fav fic—oooh hmm I love the fashion shoot chapter 👀 also the chapter where they go on a date and without thinking he wipes the ice cream off her face and eats it DHSJJSKS

3. Best character you’ve written—I will say adrien bc he’s my favorite and you write him spectacularly. But also Louis and floria!!!!!!! You turned silly background characters into such real and lovable people<3

4. Best ship you’ve written—gonna be basic and say love square bc your LS is always Superior:) but also I really enjoy the lukloe you’ve done!! and shoutout to rednana😌

5. Fic I haven’t read yet but want to—anything you have written that I haven’t read yet!!! HMC AU comes to mind 😅 also your atla stuff

6. Something I remember vividly from one of your fics—there’s the part in heroes and lullabies where adrien goes by master fu’s old house and it’s empty now and you have this whole metaphor about an empty seashell and it was just so beautifully written and expressed the ache of Adrien’s loss so well!! that has always stuck with me.

7. What made me the most emotional after reading—the ending of written in the stars was SO beautiful and full and emotional. The entirety of heroes and lullabies omg 😭😭 Another one that really got me was the roses still bloom 🥺🥺🥺 but if “emotional” can mean just like happy then little kitty on the roof in his ladybug boxers made me smile SO much, it’s so freaking cute dhdndm also the chapter of two idiots with the underwear….omg I laughed SO hard

8. What I like most abt your writing—I’ve told you this a bunch of times lol but i deeply admire the Balance you achieve with your writing. You have such a masterful simplicity that makes it so easily readable (and RE-readable) and you always know when keep it straightforward and when to lean more into poetic description (which you do so exquisitely and it’s always the perfect amount and hits so hard emotionally without being overwrought). Your sense of pacing is always spot on and also so is your characterization!!!! And your sense of humor aaaaaa I feel like there are few people who are brave enough to be truly Silly and Stupid and you have had me rolling so many times. But then you can also break my heart into a million pieces. and you can also perfectly walk the line between two sides like platonic and romantic or angst and fluff or simple and complicated. Idk it’s just a very expert blend. And also in terms of just technical skill you are the best!!! Clean and easily digestible writing with good spelling, well-structured sentences, reader-friendly paragraph lengths, syntax variety, good overall flow, etc. and all of this combined skill and heart makes your work what I consider some of the best writing out there and makes you one of the writers I enjoy and look up to the most!

Ok I’m losing steam I’m not gonna do all of the rest of them lmaO but I’ll do 2 more

12. Fic I’ve reread—lie for a lie I’ve read at least 2 or 3 times. I reread random stuff from the course of love every so often and the ones that I’ve definitely read at least 3 times are the angsty marichat kiss one where he says “you can’t kiss me like that unless you mean it” and the one where she gets jealous that he’s making out with a chocolate-covered strawberry instead of her DHJSKS. I think I’ve probably reread wingman before(?) and roses still bloom and kitty on a roof. definitely boiled potatoes bc it’s short and makes me laugh so much

13. If I’ve ever shared/talked about your fics—this will probably shock you to find out but yes I have. In fact I’m not sure I’ve ever made a rec list that you weren’t on at least once 😂 can’t help it, everything you write is so good and I can always count on you for enjoyable quality content!!!! And we have similar tastes in a lot of ways so it works out very well for you to be a reliable fic dealer for me 😌 thanks Kim botherkupo boogum, I really owe you

🥺🥺😭😭 too many nice things, I’m feeling emotional hfhfhfhfg. This is what I love about fic writing though. I remember when you first started reading my fics and I got all these comments and was like wow this person is so nice, and then i checked out your fics (or was it the other way around? Lmao j don’t even know now), and I was so happy because I’d found a new author to follow. And I had no idea then we’d become such good friends, but that’s the beauty of fandom is you can find lifetime friendships and quality content 😌

(Also I’m Hfhfhfh because I totally forgot about written in the stars)

Anyway, you’ve made me very emotional. Like this is my actual face right now 🥺 . I even got a little teary. I hope you’re happy hfhfhg

#love you Maryssa #💜💜

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zedecksiew · 3 years ago

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Kriegsmesser

When I received Kriegsmesser in the mail I finally googled "kriegsmesser", and found out it meant "war knife". Which makes sense; Gregor Vuga's ZineQuest 2021 project is a tribute to "roleplaying games named after medieval weapons".

I love Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay's piss-renaissance Old World setting. I tend to pick up WFRP-a-likes sight unseen:

Warlock (quality);

Small But Vicious Dog (yesss);

Zweihander (which I have come to hate); etc.

Anyway: I backed Kriegsmesser without really knowing anything about it. So Kriegsmesser surprised me.

Kriegsmesser grew out of a Troika! cutting. Its 36 backgrounds are compatible with that system: each come with a couple of lines of description; a list of skills and possessions; an a visual cameo cropped from actual 16th-Century woodcut art.

Cohesive and competently flavourful. My favourite is the Labourer, who always starts with "an empty pine box":

"You've spent your life breaking your back, working hard for other people's profit. You have nothing to show for it but a spectre of the future."

(The obligatory ratcatcher-analogue , called the Vermin Snatcher, is here -- check that box!)

Kriegsmesser also comes with its own ruleset. Hits all the notes it needs to, with lots of orientation and advice for how to run a game -- but ultimately super-simple, mechanically:

Roll d6s equal to the value in a relevant skill, look at the highest result. 6 means you get what you want; 5 or 4 means you get what you want, at a cost.

It's not quite a dice pool, since only the highest result matters. No opposed tests.

Kriegsmesser intends to have this base mechanic handle fights, too. The combat rules - with armour, toughness and weapon values -- are nested in an optional section.

For a WFRP-a-like, this feels like a purposeful departure.

Many of WFRP's most celebrated adventures are celebrated for bits that their underlying ruleset does little to support: the investigative structure of "Shadows Over Bogenhafen"; the complicated timetable of "Rough Night At Three Feathers".

Ludwig von Wittgenstein never needed a statblock to be memorable.

Not to say that lethal, hyper-detailed fights isn't super Warhammer-y. (Kriegsmesser includes an injury table, broken down by body-part -- check that box!)

But here it feels like Gregor is saying: "I'm not Games Workshop and Roleplay isn't an ancillary of Warhammer Fantasy Battle; we can evoke grim-and-perilous-ness even if we fork away from heavy combat rules."

It has become ritual for me to read my partner Sharon to sleep.

Sometimes I read her RPG things. The other night, after I read her Kriegsmesser's introduction --

" The Empire wages an eternal war against Chaos. Its priests preach of Chaos as an intrusion, something unnatural ... These men see Chaos in anything that does not buttress their rule. They call it disorder, anarchy, corruption. They say that to rebel against their order is to rebel against god and nature. That the current arrangement is natural, rather than artificial.

" Meanwhile, the common people look to the Empire to deliver the justice that they were promised and they find none. They look to the Empire and do not see themselves reflected in it. They look around at what they were taught was right and good and see only misery.

" Their world begins to unravel. Chaos comes to reside in every heart and mind sound enough to look at the world and conclude it is broken. "

-- Sharon remarked: "Nice one."

The RPG things I read her generally leave Sharon lukewarm. She has enjoyed a couple -- but, yeah: for many of these books, text isn't their strong point.

Kriegsmesser is the only time I can recall Sharon praising the writing of an RPG book without my prompting.

Nice one.

That introduction surprised me. It underlines Kriegsmesser's biggest departure from its WFRP-a-like pedigree: how it characterises Chaos.

Corruption, a mainstay of most grim-dark-y games, is made an optional rule, like combat. Explaining this, Gregor writes:

" Kriegsmesser partially subverts or deconstructs the traditional conceit of Warhammer where the characters are threatened by the forces of Chaos. In this game it is the player characters who are the agents of 'Chaos': they are likely to become the 'rats' under the streets, and the wild 'beast-men' in the woods bringing civilisation down. It's the Empire and its nobles and priests that are corrupt ... "

Describing the Empire, Gregor writes:

" The Empire encompasses the world yet is terrified of the without. It enforces itself with steel and fire yet considers itself benevolent. It consumes the labour of others with bottomless hunger yet calls its subalterns lazy, or wasteful, or greedy. "

Holy shit this is the first time I've seen the word "subaltern" in an RPG thing, I think?

I love this.

Rant incoming:

With every passing decade Warhammer abridges its Moorcockian roots more and more; nowadays it is "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", pretty much.

Gone are the days when chaos berserkers are implied to grant safe passage to the helpless (because Khorne is as much a god of martial honour as he is a god of bloodletting); Or that the succor of Papa Nurgle is a genuine comfort to the downtrodden; Or that Tzeentch could unironically embody the principle of hope, of change for the better.

As Chaos is distilled into unequivocal villainy, Order goons get painted as Good Guys by default --

Giving rise to Warhammer's contemporary problem, wherein fans are no longer able to recognise satire.

When I was introduced to 40K, it seemed pretty clear that the Imperium was a Brazil-esque absurdist-fascist bureaucratic state: planets are exterminatus-ed due to clerical error; the way it stamps out rebellions is the reason why rebellions begin in the first place.

Tragi-comic grimdarkness. That was the point.

Nowadays that tone has shifted -- and you're more likely than not going to encounter a 40K fan who argues that the Imperium's evils are a justified necessity, to prevent worse wrongs.

We went from:

"Space Nazis because insane dumbass fuckery, also chainswords vroom vroom rule of badass!"

To:

"Space Nazis because it makes sense actually, and also chainswords make sense because [insert convoluted rationalisation here]."

Even Fantasy Flight's Black Crusade line, which ostensibly offers a look at 40K from the perspective of Chaos, never truly commits to its conceit.

With prep you could play a heroic band of mutant freedom fighters, resisting the tyranny of the Evil Imperium --

But I don't remember Black Crusade giving that kind of campaign any actual support. Its supplements service the relatively more conventional "You can play villains!" angle; the Screaming Vortex is a squarely Daemons-vs-Daemons setting.

This tonal drift culminates, in my mind, with Age of Sigmar, Games Workshop's heroic-fantasy replacement of the old WFRP / WHFB setting.

Here's the framing narrative for AoS's recently-launched Third Edition. Let's see whether I've got things right:

A highly professionalised, technologically-superior tip-of-the-spear fighting force (the Stormcast Eternals);

Backed by an imperialist military-industrial complex (Azyrheim);

"Liberating" rich new territories (Ghur) for exploitation by a civilised settler culture (Settlers of Sig-- I mean, Free Cities);

Justified because the locals are irredeemable heathens (Chaos and Kruleboyz).

I mean, that's a sweet-ass Warhammer setting. It's contemporary, laser-guided lampoon. Except it is played totally straight.

In AoS, a literal crusade is justified as the moral good.

I think Kriegsmesser surprised me because its framing of Chaos -- as a promise, as the light of hope shining through cracks of a broken world --

It feels so fucking right.

Yes: its a subaltern deconstruction of the conventional moral universe of Warhammer -- but it is a take that is also already implied / all but supported in the various depictions of the setting: from WFRP to the modified title-crawl of Black Crusade.

I'm annoyed I didn't think of it, myself. Damn you, Gregor!

And I'm annoyed that more Warhammer fans aren't thinking it, also.

lmagine if Kriegsmesser's perspective stood on equal standing as the GW orthodoxy. Imagine if, instead of simplifying stuff into "Order = Good" and "Chaos = Evulz", GW did a Gregor Vuga.

You'd have a Rashomon-ed Warhammer, where villainy depends on perspective:

You are fearful villagers, huddled around your priest, muttering prayers against the wild braying coming from the trees beyond your gates.

You are Aqshyian tribeswomen, defying the thunder warrior towering over you, the foreigner demanding you bow to his foreign god.

You are a Tzeentchian revolutionary cell, desperately trying to disrupt a Inquisitor's transmissions so your home planet isn't destroyed by fascist orbital fire.

Get Kriegsmesser HERE.

+++

( Image sources: https://theenemywithinremixed.wordpress.com/2021/05/21/thoughts-on-the-4e-death-on-the-reik/ https://www.criterion.com/current/posts/59-brazil https://www.deviantart.com/faroldjo/art/Warhammer-40k-Black-Crusade-273596035 https://www.warhammer-community.com/2021/06/09/fancy-a-new-life-bringing-order-to-the-mortal-realms-join-a-dawnbringer-crusade-today/ https://www.nme.com/blogs/the-movies-blog/team-america-15-anniversary-south-park-2558750 https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Palestinian_children_and_Israeli_wall.jpg )

#reviews #kriegsmesser #gregor vuga #warhammer #writing #rants #overthinking #rpgs #wfrp

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gojos-sidepiece-69 · 4 years ago

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Tokyo Tech Training- Chapter 2

Your eyes snapped open and you met eyes with your lover from last night. Fuck. Did that actually happen? It shouldn’t have. Damn it. No, god, no. I got drunk and had an insane fever dream, that’s it. Your brain worked in overdrive trying to rationalize your decisions from last night. Intense waves of shame and guilt washed over you when you realized that you were, indeed, practically sober.

You woke up with no headache. Your hips, however, were a different story altogether. “Morning, sunshine,” your dimpled teacher said intoxicatingly. It was too early for his bullshit. “Please, Gojo. Not now. I’m going to go home and pretend this didn’t happen, okay? Great.” His grin widened as he pointed out, “Oh, so we’re on name-to-name basis now? I thought I was still your Sensei.”

You ignored him and firmly got up only to catch a glance of yourself in a full body mirror. You saw purple peeking out at you from under Gojo’s shirt. You pulled it down slightly and felt at your raw, sore love bites. “Sorry about those, I always like it a bit rough,” Gojo explained, still shamelessly man-spreading in his bed. “I could tell,” you deadpanned. You lifted up the hem of your shirt to inspect the degree of damage he had done to your hips, and it was bad. You could barely even walk straight. You were planning on a pleasant walk-of-shame home, but seeing the state of your condition, that was now out of question. As if he read your mind, he said “I’ll give you a ride back.”

You got a sneak peak into the Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer’s morning routine, which included putting on his dumb blindfold and dark navy uniform. He handed you your clothes from the previous night, taking extra care to comment about how he was upset he didn’t get to see you in your “cute little lacy bra.” Everyone had left earlier that morning, knowing from previous experience not to wake Gojo in the morning. In addition, they didn’t want to take their chances while their airhead of a teacher took the steering wheel, blasting trap music way too damn early. You, however, had the treat of experiencing this first-hand. “All aboard!” He said childishly as you stepped into his black BMW. He immediately turned the volume of his music all the way up, humming to Pick it Up by Famous Dex.

You closed your eyes, and muttered a silent prayer that you wouldn’t die in a freak accident on the way home. With your luck, Gojo would crash straight through a KFC Drive-Thru and laugh about it.

You were shaken out of this scary afterthought when you realized that Gojo was driving 65 MPH in a 35 zone. “What the hell? Slow down!” You yelled, but your driver only looked at you and laughed. “You didn’t have a problem with me going fast last night.” You gritted your teeth. Of course he was going to make your drive home as sarcastic and filled with as many horrible sex jokes as possible. The worst part was that you, at the back of your mind, were fighting back a small laugh. But you weren’t about to confirm that he was funny. So you slowly exhaled through your nose, until your breath hitched at the back of your throat.

Gojo’s hand had snuck past the gear and onto your knee. Keeping his (inexplicably blindfolded) eyes on the road, it slowly snaked up to your thigh and rested there. He could feel you tense up and smiled to himself. He loved the effect that even just his hands had on women. The sensation gave you flashbacks of the night before. He touched a bruise on your inner thigh that he had licked and sucked so tenderly last night, and you shuddered. He drew small circles, but didn’t go any further.

The tires screeched to a halt right outside Tokyo Tech, and you clambered out of his car as fast as you could. You left in such a rush that you dropped your “cute, lacy bra” on the passenger-side floor. You didn’t even notice. Luckily it was Sunday, and you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing your teacher until tomorrow. “Have a great day!” He yelled after you, and you flipped him off classily without so much as a backwards glance for your superior. As soon as you got to your dorm, you dramatically collapsed onto the mattress.

You were so tired from fooling around the entire day yesterday that you slept through Sunday in its entirety. You arose early Monday morning and groaned when you remembered that it was going to be your first Field Training day. And you were absolutely correct in thinking that you were most definitely not ready.

“Each of you will be assigned a Jujutsu Sorcerer to shadow for your field practice today. Watch how they exorcise curses, take mental notes, and follow each of their directions carefully. Megumi and Nobara, you’ll be going with Nanami. Yuji and Y/n, you’re stuck with me,” Gojo said, keeping eye contact with you for an uncomfortably long amount of time. You thought to yourself, I might as well just start calling it blindfold-contact, if I can’t see his gorgeous eyes. I mean, eyes. Gojo whistled and led you and Yuji back to his black car. Yuji ran like the track-star he was, yelling “SHOTGUN!” so loudly that you didn’t care to argue.

He threw the door open and leaped into the passenger seat, while Gojo took the wheel and you occupied the backseat. Yuji took the liberty of connecting to the aux, this time blasting Tetris by Derek King. Once again, it was way too early in the morning to be listening to songs about ass. But this issue did not seem to exist for the Tokyo Tech’s favorite resident ass men, Yuji and Gojo. Or as you liked to call them, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dumb-ass.

Not even a comfortable minute into the drive, Yuji energetically bent over and picked up your forgotten bra. “Ooh, looks like Gojo Sensei is getting some! Who’s the unlucky girl?” Yuji joked around. “Oh, Gojo. GOJO,” the pink-haired puppy-boy fake moaned like an animal in pain while poking fun at his teacher. Your sensei, ever the enabler of horrible jokes, chuckled along. He glanced up into the rear view mirror and made eye contact with you, breaking it as soon as he swerved into the wrong lane. “At least tell me what she looked like!” Yuji practically bursted at the seams. Gojo sighed and offered a single comment to his student that was enough to temporarily stave off his curiosity and shut him up. “She had a great ass.”

You heard a genuinely amazed “Wow!” from your fellow first-year as blush once again danced onto your cheeks. You broke the car’s mounting tension by piping up and asking, “So where are we actually going?” Gojo explained that their Field Practice entailed an actual mission to retrieve one of Sukuna’s fingers. What the hell? You thought to yourself. You had barely one day of instruction and you were being thrown into the deep end already? Jesus Christ. But somewhere deep inside your mind, you knew that Gojo cared for his students and would never let any of them get hurt.

Rudely interrupting your thoughts for the millionth time, Gojo interjected, “But we’re stopping by the bakery first. I need my morning fix.” Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food just as you remembered you hadn’t eaten yet today. With one shitty parallel-parking job, you had arrived right outside the Ichiban Pan bakery. The three of you filed into the bakery, the bell on the door ringing as the sweet aromas supplied you with some much-needed serotonin. You walked up to the counter, and immediately noticed how beautiful the cashier was. She had long, dark hair and a figure that anyone would drool over.

To your surprise, she said, “Gojo...back here already? I knew you hadn’t had enough of me yet,” as she eyed him lustfully. “Of course I had to come back for seconds. Your goods were just so...soft and sweet,” he smiled coyly as he leaned onto the counter and shamelessly flirted back. The woman reached over and toyed with Gojo’s blindfold as his smile grew. She said, “So, when are we going to have some more fun?” He answered, “Always so eager, huh? Don’t worry, you’ll get your turn soon.” You couldn’t tell if your face was heating up with annoyance at the thought of Gojo delaying the mission to flirt with one of his girls, or at the fact that you felt...jealous. Jealous that you weren’t the only one he had eyes for, and envious that this girl was older and maybe even more attractive than you. She made you feel plain in more ways than one, and your mind started to wander.

Did Gojo touch her like how he touched me? How many girls has he had before? How many is he with right now? Damn it. You shook off the bothersome thought. Maybe it was your innate competitiveness as a Jujutsu Sorcerer, but you knew you had to get him back. Fair and square. You told yourself it wasn’t because you wanted more from him, but it was because you wanted to make him feel jealous in the exact same way. Whatever it was, whenever the time would come, you were going to leave him frustrated.

Three delicious dangos and thirty minutes later, you found yourself at the site of the curse: a closed off mall. While you were now right outside of the car, you could feel the cursed energy radiating out from its epicenter. “There’s one unregistered first-grade curse that you need to extract Sukuna’s finger from. And I’m going to osbserve,” Gojo said while he sat on the hood of his car. “You’re going to what? I’ve barely had ANY training,” you sputtered angrily, but Yuji was already pulling your arm and dragging you towards the curse. Well, you thought to yourself. Might as well prove yourself a worthy comrade to Yuji and a promising student for...he didn’t matter right now. The two of you sprinted forward as Gojo lowered a dark veil over the area, blackening the sky.

Yuji shoved the front doors open and leapt inside, and you jumped in after him. The lights were broken and flickering, casting an eerie glow over the abandoned mall. The escalators were still running, but you could hear distant crashing sounds. “This way!” Yuji yelled, as the two of you sprinted up the escalator to the second floor. The crashing increased in volume, and it was clearly coming from a destroyed souvenir shop ahead.

You laid eyes on the grotesque curse, which resembled a deformed, melting, red plastic mannequin that was at least twice your height. Its arms immediately extended and shot out at you, but you dodged out of the way. You hadn’t learned any techniques yet, so it seemed like you and Yuji would be teaming up and harnessing your raw cursed energy to deliver blows to the mannequin. The curse opened its mouth to reveal jagged teeth that caged in one of Sukuna’s fingers. “There it is!” you shouted. But in an instant, both you and Yuji were caught off guard and knocked to your feet by the mannequin’s extended arms.

They grew spikes that jutted out and beat into your sides. You yelped and coughed in pain, starting to see blood pool out from under your uniform. You gritted your teeth and tried your best to deliver blows to sever the curse’s arms, but it was useless. Yuji, too, seemed trapped in between the sharp spikes. After ten minutes of intense stabbing pains and useless struggle against this first-grade curse, Yuji piped up. “I think I’m going to have to let Sukuna take over and destroy this curse.” Your eyes widened. You had only heard stories of the demon king, and they were all horrific. But it was between that and death, and you both made the split-second decision. “Do it,” you nodded.

You watched from your position as Yuji let Sukuna take over his body. Black tattoos etched their way across his toned body, which was exposed to you after he carelessly tore his tightening shirt off. His smile grew wide and you heard a malicious laugh. “Fool,” Sukuna said directly to the curse, before ripping its right arm off with brute force. “You think you’re any match for me?” Before its arm could regenerate, Sukuna tore off its other one and freed you before tossing you aside like a corpse while informing you that you were “in his way.” You hit your head against the front window of the store and groaned. You watched the mannequin open it’s mouth and shoot out it’s razor-sharp dagger teeth at Sukuna, but he just grabbed onto the curse’s head and tore it right off with ease.

He reached two fingers into the curse’s mouth and extracted the finger, examining it with a slight grin before swallowing it. “Feels so good,” he murmured while throwing his head back and laughing loudly. A wave of confusion washed over you. If the job was done, why hadn’t Yuji switched back yet? What was going on? You shivered and backed up slightly as Sukuna turned his head to look down at you.

“You know,” he drew out a breath as he kneeled down and picked up a scrap of cloth from Yuji’s torn shirt. “I haven’t taken over a vessel in ages. And that means I haven’t had a woman in a very,” he stepped closer to you, “Very long time.” You looked up at him from the ground, taking in his mouthwatering physique. This curse made you forget about logic for a minute and revert to primal instinct. The first thought that ran through your brain was running your tongue over his abs. However, a second later, you had an even better idea. Why not let Sukuna have his way with me? That would show Gojo. I want him to hear me moaning while he’s still sitting in his stupid BMW, blood rushing to his dick as he thinks about me getting fucked stupid by the undisputed king of curses. That thought alone was enough to push you to answer, “And what do you want me to do about that?”

“You’re going to do as I say. Let me fuck you until you can’t remember your own first name.” Your heat throbbed at that, and Sukuna wasted no time binding your hands together tightly with the scrap of cloth. This was really happening. You were about to get destroyed by the legendary Sukuna in the shattered storefront of a souvenir shop. In the dark. Without any semblance of a warning, Sukuna ripped your uniform top right off of your body, leaving behind only scraps of fabric. You shivered at the sensation of being exposed to the cold. You looked up at him wearing only your plain black bra and uniform skirt, and his eyelids lowered. “Fucking slut,” he said, as he ripped off your bra with the same fervor. He smiled hungrily as your nipples perked from the chills, and groped at your breasts with both hands.

He admired how they fit perfectly within his calloused hands, and how he could feel your heartbeat rapidly soar. With fear. Humans really are useless creatures, aren’t they? He thought before he demanded, “Open your mouth.” You complied, and he slid two long digits all the way inside. You felt one hit the back of your throat and you moaned onto his fingers as they slid back out. He rubbed his fingers back onto your breasts, coating them with the wetness of your own saliva. You moaned loudly with pleasure, positive that your pathetic Sensei could hear you from outside.

“That’s good.” Sukuna approved of your moaning. The thought of him making you arch your back, screaming and crying for him pushed him on further. His hands aggressively found your skirt, tearing it easier than paper. He looked down at your soaked panties and felt the urge to make you feel small and embarrassed. “You’ve gone and made a mess of yourself. I’ll just have to get rid of them,” you saw Sukuna’s tongue move around in his mouth as he forcefully tugged off your panties. His hunger got the best of him, and he bent down to let his tongue take one long lap along your dripping cunt. “Fuck,” he breathed as you threw your head back, hitting against the wall. “I haven’t tasted a woman in so long,” he said, before bending back down and slipping his tongue into your slit.

His strong arms kept your shaking legs pried wide open for him, sharp nails tightly gripping into your thighs, and you could only groan louder. He continued to drink at your slippery juices until you screamed and came into his mouth. He licked his lips as he pushed your thighs back together and lifted himself up. “I’m not even close to finished with you yet,” he growled, sensing you getting slightly tired.

He lifted you up and threw you onto your stomach. You propped yourself up shakily using your elbows while he pushed your head down with one of his hands. You arched your back for him, granting him an easier entrance. Kneeling behind you, he teased his dripping tip at your folds while squeezing at your ass. The buildup was almost too much for you to take, so you began to whine “Suku-,” but before you could finish, he entered you roughly. Sukuna mercilessly railed into your pussy from behind, one hand simultaneously gripping your hair and pushing your head down, while the other dug crescent-shaped nail marks into your hips.

His pace was so fast that you could only scream and curse and whine his name, but he only laughed and threw his head back. “Sl-slower,” you begged, tears spilling down your face, but Sukuna maintained his speed. Your useless request only prompted him to move his hand from your hair to your throat, gripping you tightly. “Don’t ask me that again,” he growled, still thrusting.

You could feel his thrusts become more loose and sporadic, and finally he pulled out and groaned deeply while spilling his cum all over your thighs. You panted and stood up slowly, but you held back a shocked scream. You watched in horror as Gojo Satoru stood before you, blindfolded eyes trailing over the white, creamy liquid dripping down your thighs. You instinctively covered your breasts and cunt, managing a weak, “how long were you watching?” Gojo took a step forward. “Well, I decide to assess the situation for myself when I heard you screaming for mercy, so I came in at about the time...” he mimed checking a fake watch, “a 1000-year-old curse started pounding you from behind.”

You blushed, heart racing from the exposure and accidental voyeurism. You hadn’t expected him to actually come see you for himself. However, your eyes took a quick trip to see a growing bulge in your Sensei’s pants. You smiled to yourself as you thought, mission accomplished.

🌹

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo sensei #jujutsu kaisen #jjk anime #jjk smut #anime #chapter 2 #long fic #fanfic #writing #fanfiction #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna

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bagadew · 3 years ago

Text

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Great Departure (Part 3)

Last Time: We finally found Miss Brett, the English woman who’s present had been erased from the scene of the crime, and dragged her ass to court only to discover that she was a Massively Racist Bitch in a swan hat. After a lot of back and forth it became clear that Dr Watson Wilson actually died of poisoning, and that Miss Brett took advantage of the fact Japan currently doesn’t do autopsy reports to shoot his corpse in the chest and frame me (Ryunosuke) for the murder. Fortunately for us Hosonaga took the bottle from the crime scene, and after needlessly translating Miss Brett for the last hour (and presumably filtering out a lot of questionable content) was only to happy to produce it for the court. Unfortunately for us the poison wasn’t in the bottle, so it’s up to a lady in pink to save the day!

I’m going to roundhouse kick Auchi

I’m liking how everyone else in this room is just as done with Auchi as I am

Our saviour Ryunosuke, that’s who

Oh, that’s not a glass

Is it about poisons?

It is!

Ok so I’m pretty sure that Curare is incredibly powerful and fast acting poison (which lines up with what we know). Unfortunately I think it needs to be injected but I might be mixing it up with something else.

Susato’s actually given me the report now, which is probably a much more sensible way of getting information (rather than me trying to remember what I’ve picked up from Agatha Christie novels), and unfortunately it looks like I remembered correctly about it needing to be injected.

(Side note: how alarming is it that I’ve retained this much knowledge on poisons? I feel the need to explain that I’ve been reading and listening to audio dramatisation of Agatha Christie novels since I was about three, but I feel like that makes it worse)

What is curious though is it’s potential use as an anaesthetic. Given that Dr Wilson had just had a tooth removed with anaesthetic I wonder if there’s a connection there?

I’m not sure what it could be though, unless it turns out Miss Brett Weekend at Berniesed his corpse all the over way from the clinic.

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

Actually wait...

GET HER ASS JUDGE!!!

Auchi if we were to run this courtroom on things you know about we’d be running a kindergarten.

Auchi, you’d never even heard of Curare until I told you about it, be quiet while the grownups are talking.

Yeah, Curare is not a nice poison.

I’m not going to post the full explanation here, but wow, Kazuma’s really going all out with his description!

Also it looks like I misunderstood about it needing to be injected. Everyone’s saying that it can just be swallowed, which I guess that makes sense given how deadly it is.

Miss Brett’s being a bitch again (but what else is new) and Kazuma’s taking none of your shit and telling her that the feeling’s mutual. (Something I would have screenshot, but I was too busy calling Kazuma a legend to press the little square button.)

I knew it, it was only in the glass.

Yeah, now try it again from the glass you took.

Don’t worry Ryunosuke, I got this!

It’s ok Kazuma! Believe in me (Ryunosuke) and our beautiful friendship!

It astounds me too Kazuma, but for once I’m on to something!

Kazuma, please stop saying foreboding things, I need you to survive the next case and you’re already not being helped by the fact that you’re so much better than me. You’re so good you kind of render me, the protagonist, a little bit obsolete in fact.

PENALISED!

I guess I was wrong then! That bottle does somehow contain poison.

Yes Kuzuma, because I’m going to be penalised otherwise!

OH FUCK I’VE GOT IT!!!

I UNDERSTOOD CORRECTLY THE FIRST TIME!!!

IT DOES NEED TO BE PUT INTO THE BLOODSTREAM!!!

AND THE DOCTOR HAD A GAPING WOUND IN HIS MOUTH!!!

WHICH MISS JEZAILLE BRETT ADMITTED SHE KNEW ABOUT!!!

It’s finally time!

Let’s get her!

He’s got it!

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

She’s cracking!

Is it hatred Ryunosuke?

Ah no, my mistake - it’s lawyer rage conviction!

I know I’ve said this a lot but...

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!!!!!!!!

HE DID THE THING!!!!!!!!

WE’RE USING HER OWN WORDS AGAINST HER

AND IT FEELS SO GOOD!

Oh good... she’s started laughing

Oh no. We’ve set things into motion haven’t we.

Kazuma, I can’t stress enough how important it is for you to take care of yourself in the case to come.

SHE’S DESTROYING THE EVIDENCE!

You can’t do that!

Oh who am I kidding, this lady’s been dancing on privilege since she walked in.

Oh Ryunosuke I think she might have done...

I knew she felt like an end of game villain!

Auchi’s about to catch these hands!

Kazuma’s telling us to step into our mind palace.

‘Is Kazuma right’, he thinks, as he remembers the blood on the plate.

I don’t know Ryunosuke? Is water wet?

You got it Kazuma!

I mean to be fair it did only just happen.

DID HE STEAL THE PLATE?!?

YES HOSONAGA!!!

YOU BEAUTIFUL GENIUS!!!

I do genuinely love these moments in Ace Attorney though. When everyone works as one to get some untouchable big fry. There’s something very rewarding about the whole thing.

Shit... she swapped it out...

Fortunately my man Hosonaga has everyone’s plates though!

Cheer up Ryunosuke, look, we have steak blood at least. And I’m sure Hosonaga’ll bring us the rest of the plates if we ask nicely. Especially after Miss Brett broke his bottle.

Miss Brett’s now making racist statements again.

But at least I’ve been given the steak to examine!

Bless you Kazuma

Ryunosuke what short of cats have you been looking at!

Get his ass (affectionately) Kazuma!

THE STOLEN COIN!!!

I KNEW SHE SWAPPED THEM!!!

(Also it looks like I was right about it being stolen by Nosa)

Didn’t know that was there, did you Miss Brett?

Now, dig your own grave with your words!

Now it’s time to dob Nosa in it. Sorry Nosa but you were kind of a jerk. Look on the bright side though, now’s your chance to redeem yourself in my eyes, like Hosonaga has!

Old man Korekuna’s armed and pissed!

Nosa I’m sorry. It’s best to throw yourself on his mercy now before I rile him up more. Use your baby to calm him if you must.

NICE CATCH NOSA!

I take everything back, Nosa your complete safe, old man Korekuna has no idea how to use that thing.

Ah, I forgot he was proficient in vase!

(Which I forgot to screenshot)

Never mind Nosa, you’re still screwed!

That is the right face to pull (Nosa not Hosonaga):

Look at him in the corner there. I feel bad now.

It was theft wasn’t it?

...oh Nosa what have you done?

(Kept food on his kids plate probably, given how he can’t afford childcare)

Nosa’s now accusing his infant son of being the mastermind... Sure Nosa, everyone’s bying that.

Either accusing a baby is a panic response, or I don’t need to feel so bad anymore.

Hosonaga how did you not immediately catch this guy?

HE SLIPPED THE COIN UNDER THE STEAK SO IT WOULDN’T BE FOUND WHEN HE WAS SEARCHED!

MISS BRETT’S TRYING TO WEASLE HER WAY OUT TO LUNCH AGAIN!

Oh thank god!

I thought for one terrible second we were letting her go.

(I’ve say it before and I’ll probably say it again, this is an intense first case)

Yes! ‘Her’ steak had a big bite mark in it!

But I thought and English Lady like yourself wouldn’t eat steak that way Miss Brett?

Of course, there’s a difference between the two photos.

I knew I could see the glass in the first one, which means it was taken before Miss Brett rearranged the table!

Oh, now Nosa’s saying that he switched the plates.

I must admit I didn’t expect that, I thought it was something Miss Brett did to remove the bloody evidence.

She’s cracking!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

YEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!

IT WAS ALIVE!!!

BABIES!!!

BABIES EVERYWHERE!

Oh god... what’s she planning.

Your honour, she’s already poisoned one person, do you want to be next?

Kiss my ass Miss Brett

Get used to it Auchi.

HAHA!

DAMN KAZUMA

(Editor Note: I am very upset by how poorly my screenshots conveyed Kazuma destroying Auchi’s hairdo with his sword)

Also, were you always hot Kazuma?

Wait no - I can’t be thinking that. The bar for fictional men I like is the floor and if I want Kazuma to continue to live a long, happy, non morally ambiguous life, I need him to not fall into the category of ‘fictional men I find hot’.

For some reason, I picture it being blue and spiky your honour

Wait what’s this about Kazuma having a mission?

Oh fucking hell, I’ve doomed you to moral ambiguity haven’t I Kazuma?

Thank you for the backhanded compliment your honour!

Ooh, petals rather than confetti, that’s a nice touch!

We did it!!!

And most importantly of all, we’re being praised by Kazuma!

Susato! Our saviour! Has turned up, along with her father: the innocent Professor Mikotoba, who I would like to thank and to reiterate that he could never kill anyone!

Seriously though, what was the relationship between him an Dr Wilson?

Ah ok, I simply just had to click on to find out.

So apparently the two of them worked together in the same hospital in London for a while.

OH MY GOD KAZUMA’S TAKING THE SWORD WITH HIM TO GREAT BRITAIN!!!

YES KAZUMA! F THEM UP!!!

(Also if your journey tragically ends in the customs office there’s a non-dead-Kazuma reason for me to go in your place.)

Oh fuck, she got off didn’t she...

I knew it

Of fucking course...

So basically she’s going to get off with a slap on the wrist. That’s what I’m getting from all of this.

Yep

Ah, but what you’ve failed to understand Kazuma is that the British Government and 99% of those people in power, are hypocritical dirtbags who will change the rules to suit them.

OK TEAM LETS GO GET HER ASS!!!

FINAL BOSS! FINAL BOSS!

Now on to the party with Kazuma!

And also Hosonaga apparently. Who is clinging onto his waiter job even though the case he was investigating is solved. Look like Ryunosuke was right about money being tight.

Hosonaga, do you not have a job anymore?

Were your superiors upset when you said ‘fuck the government’ and bought Miss Brett to us? Or was it your one man forensics team shtick that upsets them?

Oh yeah, we never did find that out did we?

Kazuma Asogi I forbid you from charging me with looking after your sister, of for that matter anything, incase something happens to you!

Fortunatly for us Hosonaga is here! Diving in-front of that Kazuma shaped plot bullet with promises of food!

Ryunosuke over here, taking the cases final moments to roast Hosonaga.

I think we’re even now Satoru, my second favorite character.

I don’t want to click to the next text box.

OH FUCK!

Oh wait, false alarm everyone!

I genuinely thought that the case was going to end with something like: but little did I realize that he never would.

Anyway that’s enough worrying about Kazuma! For now let’s enjoy the fact we’ve finished this bastard hard first case!

We’re moving on to Episode 2: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band next!

#tgaa spoilers #tgaa #the great ace attorney #the adventure of the great departure #ryunosuke naruhodo #kazuma asougi #satoru hosonaga #jezaille brett #susato mikotoba #yuujin mikotoba

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marinerainbow · 3 years ago

Note

Idk if you're still doing nights requests, but Reala x one of your ocs?

...

Anon...

I have no clue who you are, or why you took an interest in seeing my OC shipped with a Canon character...

But I have one thing to say...

Thank you so so so much for asking about my OC! And about wanting to see her paired with a canon character! That is honestly a huge compliment, it tells me you think she's interesting enough and legit enough to be with a canon character!

Ok. The only NiGHTS OC that I have that could be shipped with him, is my nightopian OC Prism (her bio should be under the 'my own OC's' tag or 'Prism' tag, please check her out if your interested ^^) but... If I'm honest, I had thought of them together in a relationship before.

I know that there's nothing wrong with OC x Canon ships, but I always get nervous at the thought of posting anything like that, especially if no one asks about my characters (the last thing I want is to embarras myself if someone is like 'nobody asked to see this why are you posting it'... Even though the internet is a free platform and we can post whatever we want and don't have to worry about anybody putting us down.

ANYWAYS! I've rambled too much. Time to give you what you asked for. My thoughts on Prism x Reala (or Realism in this case XD). I'll go for my general thoughts/story for it, but this got pretty long so I won't add headcannons to it (maybe I'll make a separate post for headcannons)

Reala x Prism (Realism)

Peony: Regarded as one of the most popular and culturally significant flowers in many parts of the world, the peony is closely associated with peace, stability and prosperous domestic life

(I hope that's a peony gif. Gif courtesy of Google)

Anyone who knows Prism's story knows that if she was canon, Reala would be her #1 enemy for a multitude of reasons.

For starters, when he and NiGHTS were created, they both made her job as a guardian a whole lot harder. At first she was able to deal with third and second levels just fine, although the second levels she would need a few tries to learn their strategies so she could properly fight back. But NiGHTS and Reala, by far the known strongest creations of Wizeman. They made her eat dirt with their superior magic and strength alone everytime she tried to fight them for the ideya they stole. The most she could do was use herself as a distraction while the visitors and nightopians in the area get to safety.

Then, when NiGHTS rebelled and she and them bonded and befriended each other, Reala gave her another reason to hate him. He was constantly hurting her friend and trying to drag them back to a place that would practically kill them without physically harming them. Anyone who knows Prism knows that she is not the type to stand back and let her loved ones get hurt, she would sacrifice herself in a heartbeat and think about the consequences later. There were many times she had to break NiGHTS out of trouble and square up to Reala to try to protect them. Fortunately NiGHTS was on her side this time, so her fights with the nightnaren weren't so unevenly matched anymore.

But of course, the hatred she felt for him was mutual. Remember, no story is one sided, and we have to see this through Reala's eyes too. Prism has caused him and the other 'maren so much trouble with how she fights them and takes back any ideya they steal, and has made Wizeman very temperamental and progress to stagnate. Not to mention the fact that she is the only thing- alongside the visitors- keeping him from bringing his friend back home and was also the reason why NiGHTS left in the first place (in his eyes at least). So when he sees Prism, all Reala sees is a pest that is far too much trouble and needs to be taken care of so not only he but the rest of Nightnare can achieve their goal without further hinderence.

So the main reason for their rivalry is simple. They both have conflicting goals. Prism wants to protect the night dimension and ensure the visitors and her loved ones are safe. Reala wants to keep Wizeman satisfied so no one else will die and bring back his comrade. And the one thing that even made things this way for them was Wizeman. As long as he exists and forces the nightmaren to bring him ideya, they will continue to clash heads.

So what happens when you remove Wizeman from the picture? When Wizeman is finally gone for good and the nightmaren have no reason to hunt visitors anymore?

Complications.

After NiGHTS rebelled and showed Prism that the nightmaren weren't inherently evil, she wanted to protect the nightmaren too. Being a guardian of the night dimension includes Nightmare too, not to mention all the stories NiGHTS told her about the day to day lives the 'maren lead. She wanted to help them, but when Wizeman was in power she had to keep fighting them to help the visitors. She couldn't just stop protecting the humans, the night dimension exist because of the visitors, so they were the top priority. So even though she sympathized with the 'maren, she couldn't stop what she began.

But now that Wizeman is gone, she tries to make amends. She goes out of her way to try to help Nightmare heal along with Nightopia. Of course, since she caused so much suffering for the 'maren, none of them want to trust her. Especially Reala, the new leader of Nightmare.

NiGHTS would definitely have to be a mediator between them both. Because even though Prism is trying to be trusting and calm and helpful, centuries of agony and the cold truth that he couldn't trust anyone, not even his closest friend, makes Reala lash out. Now that she's just standing there, doing nothing but putting a target on her back, his fury and hurt over the years bubble up and splash onto her.

But at the same time, he caused her suffering too. Every visitor she couldn't save, every paradise and nightopian that was torn apart by the nightmaren and all the beat downs she took in all of the fights she had, Reala was a big part of all that. At least after he was created. They both have hurt each other in different ways, they both had caused the others day to worsen intentionally or not.

And, in a way, that's how they both come to an understanding. Eventually, they both recognize what they've done to the other and that neither of them are intirely innocent. When they both see that, they both can take two steps back and realize they are more alike then they thought. They both want peace in their communities, they both care for their loved ones and want them around, they both carry similar responsibilities and are seen as authority figures or protectors in their homes and they both want the conflict to just stop.

So with time, they both can come to an agreement to help each other. They both can help the night dimension heal and help bring back the unity that Nightmare and Nightopia used to have. It's with this clarity and understanding for the other that allows them to work together. And later, when they both have a chance to actually get to know each other and bond- all thanks to NiGHTS I assure you- They find love with each other.

That's why I love Realism so much. It's not only a enemies to lovers story, but it also has them show each other a side neither of them saw before. Prism gets to see Reala's more caring and softer side, and Reala gets to see her more sympathetic and understanding side. And it's only when they see the other half of each other is when they can unite and become one with each other.

What do you guys think? Any questions or criticism are always welcome!

#Reala #Prism #fantopian #NiD #JoD #NiGHTS into Dreams #NiGHTS Journey of Dreams #my own OC's #my own characters #my own headcannons #ships #OC x Canon #Reala x Prism #Realism #i apologize for yhe long post i have no idea how to do that 'read more' thing that long posts do #if anyone can tell me id be forever grateful #and to anyone who read the entire post thank you for sticking with me through my rambles #my own post

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a-vintage-snake · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Make Me Be The Bad Guy

Pairing(s): Pre-romantic Moceit

Warnings: Dystopian future, implied torture

Characters: Janus Sanders, Patton Sanders, Roman Sanders, Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders, Virgil Sanders

Summary: After seven years of fighting, Patton and his superhero team finally capture the super villain known as Deceit. But when Patton discovers evidence that sheds a new light on their nemesis he starts to wonder... Did he do the right thing?

Word Count: 9411

Author’s Note: For @dramaticsnakes, who’s a wonderful reader and writer. And special thanks to @rainbowbutterfrosting who helped me finish this when I almost wanted to give up. (Also, as always I upload and edit the mistakes out after, so bear with me)

Read on AO3

In the end, it had been Patton who had struck the final blow.

It had been mostly a matter of luck, really. One moment where Patton managed to break through the henchmen’s defences. One moment where he saw that their nemesis’ back was turned to him. One moment where he made a split decision.

One moment. And that moment had made all the difference.

He didn’t quite realize he had thrown one of his famous lightning bolts until it hit square between his enemy’s shoulder blades. He stood there, paralyzed, as Janus Lyre (alias Doctor Deceit) crumbled to the floor. The battle around them grounded to a halt as well, as the henchmen saw their leader unconscious at the feet of their enemies. His teammates froze as well, looking up at Patton in gaping disbelief.

When time finally seemed to start again, everything went by in a blur. The henchmen managed to escape, unfortunately with the super weapon Patton and his team had come to destroy. But it didn’t even seem to matter.

“By Odin’s beard, Padre!” Roman lifts him up in a hug. “You did it!!”

“I… I did?” Patton confusedly asks, still feeling a little dizzy.

“You got him! You actually got him!” Roman puts him back on his feet with a giant grin on his face. “We can finally put him away!” “But the weapon-!”

“Forget the weapon! We’ve got the bastard, Heart!” Virgil grins. “After seven years we finally got him! It’s over!”

“Well, not exactly,” Logan pipes in, although he can’t seem to stop grinning too. “There’s still the matter of rounding up the rest of his organization-”

“Technical details, my friend!” Roman dramatically waves Logan’s objections away. “We got their leader! Not a henchman, not some lackey, their actual leader! How long do you think until their little League of Losers falls apart?”

“Even so,” Logan says. “Better not celebrate until Doctor Deceit is safely behind bars. You three search the building. Who knows, maybe some of his henchmen are still hiding somewhere,” Logan throws a scornful look down at the unconscious Janus at their feet. “I will stay here and stand guard.”

“Ah yes, I was just about to suggest that!” Roman says as he flips his hair proudly. “Great intuition, Nerdy and the Brain!”

“Yes, sounds like a good plan!” Patton quickly squeaks as Logan gains a look that says he’s about a minute away from using his telekinesis to throw Roman across the room. “How about you call in our superiors, Logan? We need to put this villain behind bars!”

“Excellent idea, Heart Shock.” Logan says gratefully, while ignoring Roman’s protesting noises. Roman loved making the calls on jobs well done (which to be fair hadn’t occurred often lately).

“Great!” Patton grabs the hand of the still protesting Roman and pulls him along. “Come on Prince!”

Roman pouts and grumbles, but allows Patton to pull him further into the dark lair. He catches a glimpse of Virgil’s grin before he turns a corner.

“Bet you I can find something cool before you do!” Patton smiles up at Roman. His teammate’s grumpy face instantly brightens.

“Oh, you’re on Padre!”

Dissolving into giggles Patton and Roman run down the halls. Roman could easily outfly him, yet he chooses to run alongside Patton for now. Giddily Patton runs towards a promising looking door at the end of the hallway.

Throwing it open he however sags in disappointment as the room they found only holds a couple cardboard boxes.

“Bah, nothing of importance,” Roman says as he kicks over the boxes and nothing but rusty spare mechanical parts fall out. “I suppose even villains need a trash cupboard. Come Heart!” Roman levitates from the ground. “Let us find something more dastardly!”

Before Patton can say anything Roman flies out of the room. Judging from the clanging sounds he’s already searching in a room further ahead. Patton casts one last glance around the room before he shrugs and turns to follow.

He pauses.

Uncertainly he turns around again. Something about the room doesn’t feel… Right. He knows it, yet he can’t put his finger on it why exactly. His powers crackle in his veins, sensing the off-ness in the air.

Cautiously Patton walks around the room, circling the walls slowly with one hand trailing amongst the bricks. The sense of wrongness only increases until…

In front of a seemingly bare wall he stops. There it is. He feels an unusual amount of electricity clustering behind the stone, yet the wall shows no outer signs of being anything else than… Well, a wall. Curiously Patton puts both his hands on the bricks and closes his eyes.

The world behind his eyelids lights up in bursts of electricity. His power hums in tune with the wires inside the walls, stringing all over the building and mapping out the lair in his mind’s eye in perfect detail. Patton only takes short notice of it before he calls his powers back and focuses it all on the wall before him. Yes, there it was. His powers outline a door in the wall, carefully hidden behind a buzzing security system.

Well, no match for him! Patton only needs to concentrate for a few seconds to have the electricity revert and change directions. Flexing his fingers and furrowing his brow he wills the electricity to move into the opposite direction, to change their route, until finally he hears a click. Patton opens his eyes. He pulls his hands back as the wall shifts and a door opens, so seamlessly hidden in the brick it was invisible to the bare eye. Patton allows himself a proud grin. Oh, he was on a roll today! Patton steps into the room, his footsteps echoing in the darkness. He searches for a light switch, but he can’t find one nearby. No matter! With a soft snap small lightning bolts dance on his fingers, revealing rich red walls which somehow complimented the flickering lightning in his hands.

The room is mostly bare, apart from a table in the centre of the room. It’s covered with various maps, some showing population size while others showing outlines of cities, roads and shops. There were some pencils and pens in the middle of the table, most sharp and pointed while a few were so dull that they couldn't be used anymore.

Patton noticed only one chair at the table. He only looked at it, remembering the times were Logan lectured him about not touching the crime scene unless absolutely necessary. Still, the chair seemed comfortable, the black leather clearly in great condition.

His eyes drift slightly downwards towards the cabinets under the table. They all looked the same to him, a spruce colour with a silver handle that could be pulled out. He crouches as he tries to pull open the drawer without ruining the possibility of getting fingerprints. What kind of horrors would he find in there? Knowing Janus it was probably something awful, like torture devices, or puppets of them with their eyes crossed out, or… Or…

Not able to take it any longer, Patton pulls open the drawer. He draws back, covering his face with his arms and waiting for poisonous darts or something to strike out and hit him. After a few seconds of nothing happening, Patton carefully peeks over his arms.

Inside the drawer... is just files. No cyanide, no razor-sharp knives, just... files. Patton lowers his arms and opens the one next to it, with more haste than the last one, only to find more files. Huh… That’s… Not what he was expecting? He honestly didn't know what he expected to find. It's not like the files were bad to find, it just didn't give him the rush of putting in the last piece to a puzzle. Capturing Janus almost felt like that. He knew he should have been more proud of himself, but this wasn't even close to the end of it. There still were all of Janus' accomplices and the propaganda he spread throughout several cities to take care of after all. Maybe the files had the names of his accomplices in them?

Forgetting Logan’s warning about contaminating the crime scene Patton grabs one of the files from the drawer and absentmindedly flips it open.

A scream echoes across the halls. Patton jerks up, forgetting the papers in his hand as the sound of struggle trail toward him. He jumps up, stuffs the files in his jacket before he runs back to where they left their enemy tied up.

It appears that backup had arrived, and in that same time their enemy had woken up. Several soldiers struggle with restraining a livid Janus, who trashes in their grip as they try to drag him into an awaiting prison van. They had managed to gag him before he woke, a muzzle strapped to his face to protect the soldiers from the venom of both his words and his fangs. He fights wildly, but in the end he is still one man against too many. As they finally wrestle him to the ground to clap him in handcuffs, he and Patton make eye contact.

Despite that he just knocked the man unconscious, despite that Janus is currently lying on the ground restrained by ten men, Patton instinctively takes a step back from the pure fury in those mismatched eyes.

Janus looks at him like he singlehandedly doomed the world.

One soldier pushes a taser onto his neck. Janus’ eyes roll back in his head as he convulses on the ground, muffled cries coming from behind the muzzle. When the taser withdraws Janus slumps to the ground, unconscious once more. Finally the soldiers can drag him into the prison van.

“Haha, yes!!” Roman yells. “You shall taste justice now, villain!”

Roman laughs, but it is only when the doors of the van close and they drive off that Patton feels like he can breathe again.

The press conferences were always Patton’s least favourite part. To stand next to their CEO, listening to a briefing of yet another failed mission while the people in the crowd shook their head in disapproval had always been torture. The longer the years went on the worse the pressure to actually defeat their villain became. To come back to the cameras every time Janus escaped became worse and worse as the years went on. The disappointment of not only the AEP, but of the people… That alone felt worse than any punch he had ever gotten in battle.

Now however Patton felt like he could just burst from all the excitement. He could barely stand still enough for his stylists to brush his hair into a tamer shape. He peeked behind the curtains to the gilded ballroom beyond. The AEP had chosen this specific ballroom to announce the big news on purpose. Just two years ago Janus and his horrid crew had crashed a fundraiser being held here and had stolen all the people’s so graciously donated funds for a new hotel. They hadn’t been able to capture him. It had been an awful night!

To be here again was to show that villain they were not afraid. That they could claim back the spaces he so rudely invaded. Seeing all the people in their beautiful evening gowns and best jewellery now made Patton want to burst out from behind the curtain to yell at them that they were safe!! He wanted to shout it from the rooftops, wanted to yell at the entire world!

You are safe! We rescued you! I defeated the villain, I did, I did-!!

“Here are our heroes of the day!”

Distracted Patton looks back to see their CEO has come backstage. Bentley Ceund is a man in his late fifties, with a bleach blond hair dye job that does not quite hide away his grey roots, as always dressed in a stylishly expensive suit. He was the one who had founded the AEP, or An Endless Peace organization, all those years ago. Yet outside of press conferences they did not see him often. And even when they did, it were often meetings filled with harsh words and bitter disappointment.

“Have I wasted all my money on THIS?!” Their CEO had bellowed at them the last time they had seen him, when Janus had destroyed several important construction sites. “On FAILURES who can’t even capture ONE MEASLY MAN?!” Angry spit had hit Patton in the face as he struggled to hold back tears when Bentley had moved in close and screamed in their faces. “You’re a fucking EMBARRESEMENT to ME and the company who RAISED YOU FROM BIRTH!! UNGRATEFUL, WORTHLESS WASTES OF TIME!!”

Their TV and leisure time privileges had been taken away from them for quite some time back then.

That screaming man from last time was a far cry from the smiling one that approaches them now however. No, he in fact gives the others a joyful hug and praise. Roman and Logan beam, and even Virgil smiles hesitantly. When he turns to him Patton nervously fidgets for a moment, but Bentley gives him the possibly the grandest smile out of all of them.

“Heart Shock!” Bentley laughs as he draws Patton into a hug. He never uses their real names, even though he knew them by those well before their superhero names. “Well done, my boy!”

“T-Thank you sir!” Patton says excitedly, almost melting into the hug despite the overwhelming smell of body spray. He can’t help it. It wasn’t often he was the one who got most of the praise. That was usually either Logan or Roman. “I couldn’t have done it without the others though-!”

“No need to be so modest,” Bentley draws back from the hug, put keeps his hands on Patton’s shoulder. “I’ve read the report. You are the one shot down that son of a bitch!

“Oh, well,” Patton flusters. “Anyone could have done it-!”

But in the end it was you.” Their CEO chuckles, almost fondly. “Be proud of yourself, son. Thanks to you…” Bentley pats him on the shoulder. “The company is safe again.” “And the innocent civilians, sir!” Patton helpfully says.

“Hmm? Oh yes, those too I suppose.”

Patton frowns lightly, but before he can say anything Bentley’s PA interrupts.

“Mister Ceund? The program is about to begin.”

“Ah, yes! It’s time boys!” Bentley grins towards his superheroes. “Let’s tell the world what we have achieved today!” He gives Patton a pat on his cheek before he turns and walks to the curtains, waiting for the moment to make his grand entrance. Patton frowns, but he doesn’t have the time to think for long. Their CEO walks onto the stage where thunderous applause greets him. Eventually Patton just shrugs and stands with his teammates, dismissing the uncomfortable thoughts.

As the applause slowly grows to a halt, Bentley takes centre stage. “Today is a momentous occasion,” He says into the microphone. “After seven years of making our streets unsafe, the villain known as Doctor Deceit has finally been put behind bars!”

The crowd erupts into applause, filling the gilded ballroom with cheers and cameras flashing. Beside him Virgil flinches from the sudden noise. Patton discretely slips his hand into Virgil’s and squeezes. Virgil gives a grateful squeeze back.

“Today, history has been made. Today this organization has finally achieved that which we have promised you, all those years ago…” Their CEO pauses for a second, before proudly continuing. “An Endless Peace.”

The crowd applauds again, laughing politely at the reference of the company name.

“But of course, we did not do it alone!”

Patton and the others took a deep breath. Right. Time for the show!

“Please welcome your heroes! Here is Prince Charming!”

On that cue Roman flies up from behind the curtains and the crowd erupts into cheers. Roman flies his usual round over the crowd, occasionally sharing a high-five with an audience member and flashing his fans a million-dollar smile. Several men and women giggle and blush behind their hands as he flips his hair and blows kisses to the crowd.

“Show-off…” Virgil silently scoffs beside him.

“Come now, Virge,” Patton whispers back. “You know Roman loves the cameras! Let him have his fun.”

Virgil rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but still a fond smile curls up his lips.

“Next, give it up for Brain Teaser!”

Logan purses his lips and sighs, but makes his entrance from behind the curtains anyway. Virgil and Patton exchange a knowing look. They’d listened to plenty of Logan’s rants about how ‘utterly illogical’ the serious man thought his superhero name was. Unfortunately the public was by now too familiar with the name to even suggest renaming him.

“Let me hear you for Stormcloud!”

Virgil supresses a shudder yet he still reluctantly dematerializes, only to rematerialize on stage in a cloud of shadows. While the crowd only grows in volume Patton winces in sympathy. The EAP knows how much Virgil can’t stand loud sounds, but for the audience he has to bear it with a smile. It was a weakness their enemies had exploited frequently. Janus would often blast high-pitched noises at such a volume Virgil would crumble where he stood, allowing him to escape over and over.

Well, Patton thinks with a tinge of pride, he won’t harm his friends ever again now.

“And of course, last but certainly not least… The man of the hour! The hero who struck the deciding blow! Put your hands together for HEART SHOCK!”

The curtains are drawn and Patton is momentarily blinded from the hundreds of cameras flashing and deafened by the crowd cheering. Squinting Patton stands in the spotlight, dizzily smiling at the onslaught of praise that is directed his way. He walks forward- Although it feels like stumbling is a better word- to the front of the stage to where the CEO waits for him with a smile. Journalists crowd the stage as they shout questions.

“Heart Shock!! Heart Shock, over here-!”

“Heart Shock, how do you feel-?”

“What was going through your head?”

“How did you take the villain down? We want all the juicy details-!”

“Everyone, everyone! Please!” Bentley laughs. “One question at a time, please!”

Patton yelps as Bentley puts an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into a side hug like he’s a proud father. The cameras around them go nuts as their CEO smiles and poses with Patton.

“How are you feeling, Heart Shock?” One journalist manages to yell over the cacophony of questions.

“W-Well…” Patton stammers into the microphone. “I-I feel quite proud-!”

“A well deserved pride, my boy!” Bentley says jovially as he squeezes his shoulder.

“Yeah… I suppose it is-!” Patton smiles.

“Heart Shock! How do you think the villain will react to his status as prisoner?” One journalist yells, a question that is met with gaudy giggles.

“I guess…” Patton says with hesitant excitement. “He’ll find it…” He snaps his fingers, lightning dancing over his hands as he finger guns at the audience. “Quite shocking?”

To Patton’s bewildered delight the entire audience erupts into laughs. Even Bentley next to him laughs, while he had always disapprovingly glared before when Patton made a pun. Patton can’t stop the grin that spreads on his face even if he had wanted to.

The rest of the evening goes by in a haze. As the press conference part of the evening ends and the superheroes must mingle with the guests, the praise just keeps on coming. Patton gets patted on the back, hugged and complimented. The sheer amount of attention is dizzying. Patton can’t stop smiling throughout all of it. It might just be the best evening in his life.

It isn’t until he’s in bed, still glowing with pride and from all the praise, that Patton remembers the files in his jacket.

His superhero jacket lays thrown into a corner, cast aside earlier as he quickly got into a clean, more sleek version of his hero outfit for the press conference. Giving it a glance from where he sits on his bed he’s almost tempted to leave it until next morning. His handlers had actually given him hot chocolate and two cookies before bed! Two!! That was a treat he didn’t often get! He just wants to enjoy them in peace.

Still… Perhaps he could hand them over tomorrow, announcing all the wicked plans that are undoubtedly in the files that he had also stopped when he captured Janus. Grinning at that mental image Patton gets up from and retreats back into his comfy bed with the files, munching on a cookie as he lazily starts skimming through the papers.

An hour later his hot chocolate has long run cold and the second cookie lies forgotten on its tray. Patton sits straight up in his bed, the files open on his knees and his gaze firmly locked on the wall in front of him. His first cookie feels like lead in his stomach.

It couldn’t be the truth… It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be!!

Abruptly coming back into motion Patton stuffs the files under his mattress and turns off the light to sleep, determined not to even consider or think about what is in them anymore. Yet it takes him until the first rays of dawn to finally fall asleep, and even when he does sleep his dreams are filled with mismatched eyes that look at him with a gaze that burns, burns, burns…

During the days of the week that follows he’s fine. He can smile and take the praise that he’s still showered with daily, with the files only a distant memory.

During the nights, however… Patton can’t seem to shake the image of those eyes. Furious, loathing mismatched eyes, looking at him like he singlehandedly doomed the world. The files underneath his mattress seem to burn a hole in his soft bedding, demanding his attention.

It is only a week later when he awakens from yet another nightmare plagued by those accusing eyes that Patton realizes this can’t go on. He has to know what it all means, or he might go mad with the questions that swarm his mind.

The next night Patton foregoes his bed in favour of slipping out of his room into the quiet halls of the facility, the files tucked away in his jacket. Sweat beads down his forehead, the familiar thrum of electricity inside the walls only a faint comfort. Although he only needs to make the barest effort to make the security cameras divert from him, the action still makes his hands shake. As he sneaks into the elevator at the end of the hall he inspects the buttons. You need a special pass to go to the very lowest level. But Patton only needs to send a pulse of electricity into the elevator to make the security system think he’s been granted access. As the doors close Patton swallows. No going back now.

The elevator ride feels both too long and too short. When finally the doors glide open to reveal a long hall Patton fastens his pace. He passes other closed cells, some of which he hears murmurs from behind their closed doors, but he does not slow down until he reaches the door at the very end of the hall. Door 409… Holding the highest level of security prison cell they have.

He glances backwards for a second, before he takes a deep breath and places his hands on the door. He feels the electricity answering as he redirects the flow. It’s hard. Harder than the vault in the lair, harder than tricking the elevator had been. Sweat starts to bead on his forehead, as he carefully has to divert his powers through layer upon layer of security, careful in case he triggers an alarm somewhere.

He isn’t quite sure how much time passes, but at long last the door finally, finally opens. Patton enters, and quickly slides the door closed again. His heart hammers in his throat as he presses his hands to the door and listens for the sound of the alarm going off.

It doesn’t come. He had done it. Exhaling a shaky breath Patton leans his forehead against the metal door, cooling his flushed skin.

“Well, well, well,” A smooth voice drawls behind him. “Look what the cat dragged in…”

Patton’s shoulders tense. He had hoped to never hear that voice again. A part of him is tempted to leave, but the files pressed against his chest still burn. So he gathers all his courage and slowly turns around.

The cell in the middle of the room is a monstrosity of glass and metal, bare apart from a simple bed. The security system surrounding it buzzes with the sheer amount of electricity it needs, making it dizzying even to Patton. It is only a small distraction however from the person all that electricity is holding prison, standing in the middle of that glass cell with his arms crossed at his back. Like he had been expecting him.

“My sincerest apologies for the mess. I wasn’t expecting such important company,” Janus grins. “Should I feel honoured that the famed Heart Shock is visiting little old me in my cell?”

Patton swallows. He had hoped that the villain would have been less frightening now, pulled away from his usual shadows and dragged into the light for once. He wasn’t. If anything the simple white prison grubs he wore instead of his usual black suits and the bright LED lightning only enhances how alien, how otherworldly he really is. The green scales trailing down his sharp face, the fangs glistening in that all too familiar mocking grin, the tall willowy frame that nonetheless packs a surprising amount of strength… The man in front of him is more monster than human. Patton wonders for a second if he ever was human to begin with.

“Oh, look at you,” Janus chuckles softly as the silence between them stretches on. “Like a frightened little mouse in the snake’s den… Whatever will he do now?”

Patton puffs out his chest indignantly. “I’m not afraid of you!” He says, ignoring how Janus raises an eyebrow with an amused smile. “I’m not! You have no power here! You’re our prisoner!”

“Really?” Janus mockingly drawls. “Well, pardon me for not believing you whilst you look like that.”

Patton belatedly realizes what kind of picture he paints. Pressed up against the door, as far away from the glass as he possibly can. Not exactly the fearless superhero everyone expected him to be.

Closing his eyes for a second, Patton takes a deep breath and steps forward. Cautiously he approaches the cell, his footsteps in sync with Janus’ until they both halt at the glass, right in front of each other. Patton stares up at his nemesis, more confident than he feels. Right into the mismatched eyes who have haunted his nightmares for almost a week now. He swallows, clenching his fist to hide that they’re shaking.

“While I’m definitely thrilled to have you here,” Janus smirks down at him. “I’m afraid I’m a very busy man, and don’t have time to have a staring contest with you. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Patton opens his mouth to ask what the heck he would be busy with, he’s a prisoner, but stops himself. That’s a discussion that would lead him nowhere, and he came here with a purpose.

“I’m here to talk with you.” He says instead.

“Congratulations, you just did,” Janus yawns, a forked tongue lazily flicking out from between sharp fangs. “If that was all, darling-”

“No! I mean-” Patton zips open his jacket and pulls out the files. “I’m here to talk about these.”

Janus’ eyes narrow when he spots the files, the only outward reaction he shows. Yet the temperature between them seems to drop to freezing level.

“I’ve never seen those before in my life.” Janus says airily.

“I found them in your lair!” Patton counters. “In a hidden compartment in the wall!”

“Did you now? How interesting.” Janus lazily inspects his fingernails. Patton frowns as he spots Janus’ left arm is completely wrapped up in white bandages. He can’t recall that they gave him an arm injury. He opens his mouth to ask, but shakes his head. He had to focus on this.

“These are your plans!”

“No they’re not.”

“Oh yeah?” Patton flips open the files. “Then how do you explain your name on top of these papers?”

“Can I help it that ‘Janus’ is such a popular name?”

“These are all written in your handwriting!”

“Preposterous. My handwriting is much neater.”

“All your old plans are in this, and some future ones!” Patton shouts exasperatedly.

“Pure coincidence.”

“Stop,” Patton grits out through clenched teeth. “Stop denying! I know these are yours!”

“If you’re so sure, why ask me at all?” Janus disinterestedly brushes away some invisible dust from his shoulder. “Why haven’t you immediately shown them to your superiors, like the good obedient lackey that you are?”

“Who says that I haven’t?” Patton responds heatedly.

With a growl Janus suddenly throws a fist against the glass, his eyes flashing dangerously. Patton jumps backwards, his throat squeezing shut before a startled scream can escape him.

“Don’t. Lie. To me.” Janus spits. “If you had shown them, you wouldn’t be here chatting with me in the middle of the night. Admit it.”

“I… No.” Patton finally shakes his head, gripping the files tightly between his hands. “No, I didn’t…”

“There we go…” Janus draws his hand back and crosses his arms again behind his back, his easy smile back. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Heart Shock. Have your masters never told you it’s bad to lie?”

Patton bites his lip. It was true that he’d be in so much trouble if his superiors ever found out that he lied. But surely they would understand him lying to their enemy, wouldn’t they?

“You’re one to talk!” Patton says instead. “You lie all the time!”

“Says who?” Janus drawls with a mocking smile.

“Says me! You lied every time we fought, you just lied multiple times to my face-!”

“No I didn’t.”

“-And you lie in these files!!” Patton shrieks, waving the files in front of the villain’s nose. Janus’ smile falls and his face darkens.

“Oh? Pray tell, Patton.” Janus sneers, and Patton snaps back in shock at hearing his actual name coming from the villain’s mouth.

“H-How did you-?”

“Why exactly would you think I lied in these files?” Janus tilts his head. “If I wrote them, that is.”

“Because... Because-!” Patton flips angrily through the files. “Because these files say you used the money you stole from the hotel fundraiser two years ago to finance black market medication research!”

The hero looks up triumphantly, expecting Janus to laugh and simper about how gullible he is for believing such an obvious decoy. Janus however doesn’t laugh. He shows not even a hint of his mockery as he silently listens. Patton’s triumph falters, and he flips once more through the files to avoid that calm gaze.

“A-And here!” Patton pulls another paper from the file. “In here you claim that you kidnapped the scientist Emile Picani because the AEP made him design weapons, not new mental health robots!”

Still no response. Patton scowls as he holds up another paper. “This says you destroyed a construction site for a new factory because the output would pollute the town’s only water resource!”

“They were also exploiting the builders,” Janus finally interrupts. “Forced them to work under horridly unsafe conditions for barely a quarter of the salary they needed to support their families.”

“Yes!!” Patton throws the files down with frustrated force, making the papers fly everywhere. “You… You… You keep lying in these files, making us appear like the bad guys! Is this what you tell the people? To brainwash them into joining your stupid little gang?”

“Me? Brainwashing? HA!” Janus shakes his head. “That’s a laugh and a half…”

“I’m onto you, Deceit!” Patton proudly puffs out his chest. “I see right through your tricks!”

“Oh, of course you do,” Janus smiles down at him like he’s a child who just badly solved a puzzle game. “Nothing gets past you. Truly, I’m so impressed.”

Patton’s certainty wanes. Villains who just got their plans exposed should look angry, not like they’re secretly laughing at you.

“Well, if you’re done spouting wild accusations, would you mind closing the door behind you?” Janus stretches his arms above him. “I want to get my eight hours of sleep in before I get thrown into the next torture session tomorrow, thank you very much.”

“Torture-? Oh, haha, very funny!”

“Not joking, unfortunately-”

“Why do you do this??” Patton has to resist to stomp his feet in frustration. “Why do you keep on lying?”

Janus lowers his arms, his smile falling away. “I don’t.” He says. The seriousness of his voice throws Patton off, but even so he scoffs.

“Yes, you do!”

“I really don’t. There’s not a single word in those files that isn’t the honest truth.”

“Yeah, right,” Patton crosses his arms. “Tell that to the people outside! Or to my superiors!”

“Oh, by all means, bring them in,” Janus says seriously. “Bring them all in! Your precious masters, all my supposed victims… I think you’ll find that they’ll all agree with my side of the story.”

Patton opens and closes his mouth a few times, uncertainly. The rigid seriousness of the other makes him more nervous than he hopes he lets on. He was so used to the dangerously charming smooth talking Janus that he had no idea what to do with this calm, somber Janus. Oh, why hadn’t he taken Logan with him? He would have known what to say!

“Oh really?” Patton eventually says, sounding more sure of himself than he actually was. “What exactly is ‘your side of the story’? Go ahead, I could use a laugh!”

“You want to know, little mouse?” Janus says, and just like that the dangerous smile was back. “You really want to know?”

Patton swallows, but tilts his chin up defiantly. “Yes.”

“Well, you asked for it…” Janus hums thoughtfully, gathering his thoughts for a second. “My side of the story is about how years ago a small company gained interest. Funded by the richest of the rich of the world this company created unwilling abominations. Children reared only to use as weapons to hold the world hostage. So that those richest of the rich could create a planet where the lowest of the low were forced to work for them. Leeching of the world’s natural resources like parasites, while the rest of us peasants suffer as a result. Of course, that was the system even before these children became their shiny new atom bombs, but now… Now they had safeguard. A safety net that ensured no one would ever dare to rebel against them. Well…” Janus smiles. “Almost no one…” Janus inspects his fingernails casually again. “Of course, to make sure they wouldn’t be bothered by such things as icky morals, they justify their actions by saying it was for the greater good! By saying this system created…” Janus raises an eyebrow at Patton. “An Endless Peace?”

A silence falls between them. Then Patton lets out a disbelieving laugh.

“Really? You think I’m going to believe that? I’m not dumb, you know!”

“Dumb, maybe not,” Janus shrugs. “Naïve, however…”

“I don’t believe you!” Patton says proudly.

“You were born and raised at AEP, weren’t you?” Janus asks. “Told from a young age you were born to be a superhero? To help people? Tell me Patton, have you ever been away from this building for anything else than superhero business? Or talked to anyone who isn’t approved by EAP first? Anyone at all?”

Patton tries to think of an answer, but comes up empty. “The people in this building protect me,” He answers instead. “Protect me from people like you, who would exploit my powers for evil!”

“Trust me honey, you’re not the one who needs protection out there…” Janus mutters.

“I don’t believe you.” Patton repeats, a bit more uncertain this time.

“Fine. Don’t then.” Janus shrugs. “I don’t need you to believe me for it to still be true.”

The absolute confidence in Janus’ voice infuriates Patton, anger bubbling up in his chest.

“EAP is a good company! We actually help people, unlike you!” Patton yells, now actually stomping his foot. “You stand there trying to tell me you’re so noble, when you have NO PROOF for anything you claim!!”

“Proof?” Janus growly lowly. “You want proof? Fine!” Angrily he grabs the edge of his bandages and starts unwrapping his arm. “I’ll give you proof!

Patton inhales a sharp breath as Janus unwraps the last bandages. His arm is completely raw and swollen, oozing with barely healed wounds. His stomach turns at the sight of angry deep black burns strewn over any flesh that got spared.

“They tore the scales off my arm,” His cool façade finally shows cracks as Janus’ voice shakes. “One by one they ripped them off my skin. Even when I finally talked they didn’t stop. They continued on until my arm was bare, and the iron they placed in the fire was white hot. That’s how I got these…” Hovering his fingers over one of the burns he swallows. “Obviously I told them old hiding places, long since abandoned. It will keep them busy for a while, but when they realize I’ve given them old information…” He rubs his jaw absentmindedly. “They said they would take my teeth next. Too bad... I’ve grown quite fond of my fangs.”

“They…” Patton shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away from Janus’ tortured arm. “They wouldn’t do this…”

Janus’ eyes turn cold, his collected mask back on. “Obviously, they did. Or do you think I would do this to myself to gain sympathy points with delusional so called ‘good guys’?”

“B-But-!! We are the good guys!! The people, they love us-!”

“Oh, please,” Janus rolls his eyes. “The only reason the ‘common’ folk sing your praises is because they’re too afraid that their ‘beloved rulers’ send you to destroy their homes next.”

“T-That-! That’s NOT true-!!”

“Do you know what they call your little ‘hero’ group outside of the little circle of rich assholes you protect?” Janus says with a nasty smile. “They call you ‘The Executioners’. Because the minute someone refuses to obey, to fall in line… They send you. To make sure the people know who’s in charge. To destroy any ounce of happiness they scraped up and make an example out of the corpses you and your friends leave behind in their wake!”

“Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!!!” Patton shakes his head, covering his ears in a vain attempt to block out that damned smooth voice.

“Face it, kid. You’re no hero. No… You want to know what you are?” Janus continues on mercilessly. “You’re a tool. A sharpened axe the elite of the world hold over the necks of the common people, so they continue working as proper frightened little drones. Nothing like a good threat to keep their servants from revolting against them.”

“YOU’RE LYING!!” Patton screams as he throws his fists against the glass, the lights above them flickering in sync with his outcry. His powers bursts out of him with a force he hasn’t experienced since he was a kid. Electricity climbs over the glass cell in living lightning, framing the villain like a cursed portrait. But Janus barely blinks as the electricity crackles around him.

“If you are so sure that I’m lying… Why are you still here?” He asks thoughtfully. “Why come here at all if you truly think I lied in these files? Unless…” Janus says slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “Unless you’ve already seen the cracks in their pretty façade. Is that it?”

Just as quick as his power had acted up it retreats. “I… I… I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Patton stammers as he pulls his hands away from the glass, the bright glow of the electricity dying in his fingers. He steps back but Janus follows, like a shark that smells blood in the water.

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” Janus breaths out a disbelieving laugh as he shakes his head. “When did you start to notice the holes in their logic? Started to taste the bitterness in their pretty lies? How long have the doubts been eating at you, Patton?”

“That’s not…” Patton starts weakly, but any other rebuttals wither and die before they can leave his mouth.

“You’ve seen glances of their true faces,” Janus continues. “And you hoped that I would what? Comfort you? Deny everything and let you wallow in your own self-denial? Be the so-called ‘villain’ you think I am so you can continue feeling good about yourself?” Janus chuckles, lowly, the sound wrapping around Patton’s throat like a noose. “Come now darling… Did you really think I was that kind of person?”

It distinctly feels like something inside him breaks. The pretty wall of his superhero persona crumbles and crashes down, leaving Patton with only the ugly truth that wall had kept hidden from him. The pride and praise of the past week now suddenly tastes like bitter ash in his mouth.

He hurt people. He hurt the world. He did he did he did he did he DID-!!

He can’t take any more. Patton’s legs give away beneath him as he crumbles in front of the glass, his chest heaving with sobs. Pulling his hands through his hair he buries his face in his knees, tears dripping down his cheeks. Janus says nothing while Patton’s sobs echo in the room. He only stares down at the shattered hero at his feet with a distant kind of satisfaction.

"What do I do...?" Patton eventually whispers when the tears finally slow. "What can I do to make this right…?"

Janus grins, kneeling down to look the hero straight in the eye.

"You could start," He purrs. "By getting me out of here."

Patton walks through the halls he’s walked through a thousand times. His heart hammers a mile a minute in his ears, almost deafening him. Yet it can’t keep him distracted from the person currently running after him, sticking out amongst the grey walls like a sore thumb in his bright white prison grubs. They halt at an intersection, pushing their backs against the wall and holding their breath as soldiers run past in the next hallway.

“I’m going to need your phone.” Janus suddenly whispers, making Patton bite back a yelp.

“I-I don’t have one-!” He stammers. Janus gives him a long-suffering look.

“I’m not surprised, yet somehow still disappointed.” Janus sighs as he impatiently moves past him. Just as Patton wants to ask what he’s planning, Janus darts out of the dark corridor, as quick and ruthless as the snake he is and grabs the last soldier in the platoon that passes them. He gives her no time to alert the others in front of her as Janus covers the soldier’s mouth, drags her back into their corridor and sinks his teeth into her neck.

“What are you doing?!” Patton hisses.

“Making sure we can get out of here!” Janus hisses back as he pulls his teeth from the soldier’s neck. The woman’s eyes are already drooping, despite her effort to raise her voice in alarm. By the time Janus lowers to the ground she has fully lost consciousness.

“You can’t do that!! She’s just doing her job!” Patton furiously whispers as Janus searches her pockets.

“Yeah, well, currently her job would be to shoot me on sight, so excuse me if I would rather not die!” Janus finally victoriously pulls a phone from the soldier’s pocket. Grabbing the soldier’s hand for a second to make her unlock the screen, he then furiously starts texting.

“What are you doing??” Patton repeats, just as frantic.

“Arranging our getaway ride, if all goes well,” Janus says as he finishes the text and hits send. “Now we just need to get out of here and keep hidden until they can come for us!”

“Right… Right!” Patton nods. Oh, why did he do this again?? “I know how we can get out of here! We’ll have to follow-!”

“Patton?”

Patton freezes at that familiar voice. Turning he comes face to face with Virgil, wrapped in his favourite hoodie and sleepily rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand. How could he have forgotten his teammate’s insomnia? Or his habit to wander around until he got sleepy??

“What are you doing here in the middle of the night?” Virgil yawns. “Do you want a lecture from Logan about proper sleep schedules? Because trust me, they’re not very-”

Virgil freezes as Janus rises to his feet behind Patton. His eyes dart between him and Janus, gasping as he finally spots the unconscious soldier on the ground.

“You…” Virgil’s voice turns dark, the shadows behind him moving on his unspoken command. “I don’t know how the FUCK you got out, but you will step away from my teammate RIGHT NOW and get back to your cell, or you’ll regret it!”

“No thank you,” Janus smirks. “While I thoroughly enjoyed your hospitality, the room service here is positivelyabominable. Not to mention the horrid excuse you call cuisine. I don’t think I’ll return here soon.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that!” Virgil growls, gathering his famous shadows in his hands.

“Virgil, NO!!” Patton screams and steps between the two before Virgil can throw his attack.

“Patton, get out of the way!”

Patton shakes his head. “No! You have to let us pass, Virge!”

“What do you mean-?” Virgil stops, furious disbelief etching across his face. “…It was you… You helped him escape-!”

“I…” Patton swallows and nods. “Yes, yes I did… But Virgil-! It’s not what you think! We’ve been lied to, Virge!”

“Yes, by HIM!!” Virgil points at Janus, who wiggles his fingers in a mocking wave. “You know, the enemy that we’ve tried to capture for literal years??”

“No, not him! The AEP! They’re the ones who lied to us! They’ve been using us, Virge! They used us to… To attack innocent people! We’ve hurt the world instead of saving it! We have to set this right!!”

“What the hell are you talking about-??”

“Virgil, please,” Grabbing Virgil’s hands in his Patton gives his teammate- No, his best friend- a pleading look. “Come with us! Help me take down the organization! They’re the bad guys, Virge! It was never him!” Patton gestures to Janus.

“Oh that’s fine, just talk about me like I’m not here.” Janus mutters.

“We can fix this, Virgil. You and I!” Patton says, fragile hope growing in his voice. “Please, trust me on this! Let’s run away together from this place and actually help!”

Virgil stares at him, the tense silence stretching on in the hallway like a wire slowly growing taut. Virgil’s eyes flicker between him and Janus indecisively. Patton hopes for a brief second that maybe, just maybe-

His stomach drops when Virgil’s gaze remains on Janus, and just like that the wire snaps.

“You…” Virgil snarls. “I don’t know what lies you fed him-”

“Virgil, please no-!!” Patton pleads, but Virgil shoves him aside.

“But I will not let you get away with it!” The shadows behind him move again, answering their master’s call as they gather around him. “I will take you down for this!!”

“Must we?” Janus sighs exaggeratedly before he straightens himself and grins his lengthening fangs bare. “I suppose I have time in my busy schedule to teach you some manners, Stormcloud.”

Virgil growls and aims his hands towards Janus, the shadows behind him brewing and moving in dark colours without hesitation. Patton doesn't think. Later on he wishes he had. He doesn’t remember moving, yet he sees his hand grab onto the back of Virgil's neck. He doesn't want to see the sparks fly out of his hand, making the Virgil’s body go rigid before promptly becoming weak in his grasp. But it doesn’t matter what Patton wants, as Virgil's body hits the floor with a thud quieter than it should've been.

Paralyzed Patton makes eye contact with Janus over Virgil’s unmoving form. The other man stares at him dumbfounded, uncertainty and shock fighting for the same place on his eyes. Patton looks down, trembling.

Oh god what had he done.

For the second time that evening Patton felt his knees give way beneath him as he fell next to his friend.

“Virge…” Patton whispers, pained regret shaking in his voice.

“Patton-!” Janus walks up to him, putting his hands on his shoulders but Patton barely feels it.

“I’m s-so sorry-!!” Patton sobs over his friend’s unconscious body.

“Patton.” Janus says, his voice so calm that Patton’s muddled mind readily clings to it. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

“I-I c-can’t j-just leave him h-here-!!”

“You must. The commotion must have alerted someone. This place might be crawling with guards soon. We have to go.”

Patton looks up in Janus’ eyes, their mismatched colours strangely grounding him and he nods. Janus helps him to his feet, and after one last look towards Virgil, Patton turns and they run.

Much later Patton would look back on this night and barely remember their escape. He leads Janus through the facility on automatic pilot, only managing to avoid capture because of Janus’ vigilance and sharp hearing. In the end Janus has to take out only one additional guard, who had been watching the emergency exit that Patton had lead them too. This soldier went down much easier than the first one. Patton supposed he hadn’t expected anyone to come to the quiet, halfway forgotten exit. But how could Patton forget it? He and Virgil had used this door as kids to escape from training once in a while.

Virgil…

Janus hastily runs through the emergency exit with Patton closely following behind. The cold night air finally shakes Patton's mind awake, away from the phantom feeling of Virgil's neck and how his hand tingles slightly. He almost wishes the tingle hurt.

They run loudly on the pavement, aiming for speed over secrecy. Patton’s breath comes in heavy pants and his lungs prickle, yet he dares not to stop or to look back. When they reach the high fence it takes Patton’s every bit of concentration to stop the electricity singing in the fence, guiding it away from Janus as they climb over it.

The sirens start as they safely land on the other side of the fence.

With the alarms blaring behind them Patton follows Janus to where the concrete leads into worn-in dirt, and where that leads to sticks, leaves, and not many traces of society. Patton's breath hurt in his chest, but knows he can't stop for a moment. He doesn't bother looking behind him either.

After what feels like hours but were more likely minutes, Janus skids to a halt, his breath forming clouds in the cold air as he leans heavily against a tree. Patton leans his hands on his knees, catching his breath. In the distance the alarms continue blaring.

“D-Do…” Patton gulps, exhales. “Do you think we’re safe…?”

Janus looks at him. “I don’t know…” He says, and Patton hates the raw honesty he hears in his voice. He suddenly much prefers the smooth lies his former enemy could spin at a drop of a hat. If they’re caught, he'll suffer Janus' previous fate or worse. Patton doesn't want to think about how it could get worse.

Just as he’s about to sit down, resigned to his new fate, a bright spotlight illuminates their spot in the forest. Patton can’t stop the startled scream as spots dance in his vision at the sudden brightness, the rumbling of an aircraft above them finally overpowering the sound of his wildly beating heart. They had found them already??? Or…

“Ahoy down there!” A nasally voice shouts down over the intercom as a rope is lowered from the aircraft. “Did some clown order a clown car??”

Patton puzzlingly frowns, but besides him Janus grins.

“Hold on, Heart Shock!” Janus grabs the rope with one hand and throws his other arm around Patton’s waist to hoist him up close. “Our ride is here!”

Before Patton can form some kind of protest the rope is hoisted up. A high-pitched shriek tears from his throat as the ground falls away beneath them. Patton never liked flying or heights in general. No matter how many times Roman took him for a flight he never got used to it. So he throws his arms and legs around Janus koala style and buries his face into the other man’s scaled neck. He dares not to peek as they dangle above the ground until he feels hands grab him and Janus. Excited voices ring in his ears as the hands drag them both into the aircraft. As they land on the metal floor with a heavy thud a blush creeps in on Patton’s cheeks when he untangles his arms and legs from Janus’ frame.

“Snake Daddy is in the nest!!” The same nasally voice shrieks over the roaring engines. “HIT THE GAS!! GO GO GO!!!”

The door behind them slams closed, and the aircraft flies off with a speed that throws Patton backwards, making an inelegant roll on the hard metal floor. Janus on the other hand sits up his knees, giving the man that runs up to them an exasperated look.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?” Janus sighs. The man gives him a grin that makes his moustache curl up mischievously. Either Patton’s eyes are deceiving him, or the man resembles Roman to an uncanny degree.

“And I told you to get used to your new codename, Double-D!” The man joyfully says. “Deal with it!”

Janus rolls his eyes, but nonetheless grabs the hand stretched out to him. As he’s pulled to his feet Janus throws his arms around the other.

“Remus, you absolute insane wonderful man you,” Janus breathes shakily. “How the fuck did you get here so fast?”

“Are you kidding me??” Remus eagerly returns the embrace. “We’ve been hiding around here for five days now!”

“You what-” Janus reels back, grasping Remus by the shoulders “Why??”

“To rescue you, of course!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake- You promised that if I ever got captured you would continue where I left off! Not risk everything by trying to rescue me!”

“Yeah, well,” Remus shrugs. “You promised me that I would get to watch you use the president’s head as a football some day! And god fucking dammit, you are not getting out of that promise, no matter how hard you try!”

Patton flinches at the gruesome fantasy, but Janus only wetly laughs and draws Remus back into a hug. Over the whole aircraft relieved and excited voices ring, welcoming Janus back.

Amidst the excitement Remus halts as he finally spots Patton, who still sits quietly amongst the excited rebels.

“No fucking way…” Remus breathes. “You actually got us a hostage?”

Patton freezes. As all eyes turn to him, he suddenly remembers again that he’s surrounded by people he previously thought as his enemies. And to them, he still was the enemy.

"Double-D, you should've warned me you would bring a hostage! I would've brought the rougher rope with us!" Remus pulls away from the hug and quickly moves towards a container, which once opened Patton could see was full to the brim with rope of various colours, each appearing thick and rough enough as they were.

Janus dramatically sighed. "He’s not a hostage."

Remus stops rummaging through the container and quirks an eyebrow. "But Heart Attack or whatever is one of those stupid guys! Wait.” Remus squints suspiciously at Janus. “Don't tell me you're breaking up with me and joining his side."

“Not quite,” Janus says as he extends a hand to help Patton to his feet. As he stands Janus lightly places his arm over Patton's shoulders. A shield against the suspicious glares from the rebels around him. "You see, my darlings… He's joining ours."

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #moceit #janus sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #superhero AU #eat the rich if this fic doesn't make that clear enough

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