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hier--soir · 6 months

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a lover's pinch | six

joel miller x f!reader

pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: joel and rachel have dinner. a confession is made. warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, JOEL POV, sexting/nudes, joel has bad restaurant etiquette lmao, descriptions of arousal, references to past smut, the guilt and shame that sometimes go so neatly hand in hand with wanting, miller daughter cameo, mild angst, discussion of a car accident. word count: 4.8k series masterlist | main masterlist a lover's pinch playlist a/n: just a reminder that this is set within ALP5, when joel goes to have dinner w rachel. just a short little peek into my beloved professor’s mind, and some context between j & r. hope you like it x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing this is part six of ALP. you can read the previous parts here: one, two, three, four, five.

Sunday.

“Nina thinks it’ll rain tomorrow. Overcast too, probably.”

There’s a faint hum through the phone as she speaks. A vague buzz that crackles and pops in almost every beat of silence. Not for the first time, Joel wishes she would let him buy her a new phone.

A gust of wind whips against his face and he cringes, turning his back against the draft.

“Okay,” he replies. “That’s okay, right?”

“It’s fine,” she grumbles. “Wanted to take you to this bar, though. They do these tacos we love. Nina says it’s the best Mexican place in New York.”

“Now how many times do I have to tell you there’s no good Mexican food in New York?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Joel can practically hear her rolling her eyes. He chuckles.

“What time are you coming ‘round?” Ellie asks. “I’ll be in the studio for most of the day, but we normally get home around five. Could do dinner around eight?”

Joel hesitates, and then raises his voice to be heard over the rushing wind. “I was actually thinkin’ I’d come see your studio.”

A moment of humming, crackling silence.

“I’d love to see some of your work,” he continues, peering in through the window of the restaurant. He thinks he can see Rachel through the frosted glass – her mess of dark curls vaguely visible, tucked away somewhere in the corner of the space. He hears Ellie breathing through the phone as he looks. “And s’been too long since you showed your old man any of your paintings.”

“Joel,” she huffs, and it’s that smartass, pained tone that has him grinning wider than anything she’s said up until this point.

It’s few and far between lately – hearing that name coming from her mouth. Joel. Something that’s been intermittent for almost a decade, and has been steadily decreasing since she moved to New York five years ago.

Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad, Joel, Dad.

Joel for years, and then one day—Dad.

It was Summer; Ellie was eighteen and he was thirty-nine, and this word that he’d grown so accustomed to hearing suddenly felt like a fist squeezing around his heart. It became something new, something different. Because Joel knew that, for her, family had always meant mistrust. Had always meant loneliness. Knew that sometimes her childhood felt like a knife stuck in her throat, and on those days, she had to decide whether to leave it in and stem the blood flow, or pluck out the blade and watch everything turn red.

And then one day, years on, it seemed that she’d drawn that dagger enough times. The blood stopped, the mistrust fell away, and—Dad.

Dad to Sarah and now, finally, Dad to Ellie.

“Ellie,” he imitates her tone, well-versed in mirroring her attitude after so many years of practice.

A voice rears up directly behind him and Joel stiffens, glancing over his shoulder to watch a couple exit the restaurant. Coat collars dragged up to protect their necks, arms linked as they smile and start down the street. He imagines Rachel sitting inside, alone, and his smile falters. He knows he should go back in soon, but can’t quite bring himself to cut this short.

“Yeah, okay,” Ellie answers finally, and he can feel the weight that rests in those words.

The admission, but also everything that goes unsaid alongside it. A silent acknowledgement of years spent reading between the lines, trying to know each other; years of her locking her bedroom door, hiding her journals, her artbooks, her pencils. Anything to keep someone else from seeing the way she expresses herself – from understanding that she feels anything. And this yeah, okay – well, it’s as close to I love you as the two of them ever get.

Joel says, “I’ve been missin’ you, kiddo.”

And she says, “I know.”

More silence. More contemplation of how to respond, how to keep emotions level when he is not Joel in this moment, but Dad.

Plucking out the blade.

“Ten tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the address,” Ellie says after a while. “Don’t be late or I’m not showing you shit, old man.”

Heat blasts his face when he steps back inside the restaurant. He tugs his jacket off as he wanders his way toward their little corner table inside San Vecchio—old saint. A small Italian place that Rachel likes to visit whenever she’s the city, and has slowly but surely grown on him.

When he gets close enough to see the table his stomach drops, face twisting into something apologetic as he lowers himself into his chair.

“Shit,” Joel mutters, staring at their food. Brought out while he was on the phone, sitting untouched; she didn’t even pick up her fork in his absence. A shameful heat rises in his face. “I’m sorry, Rach.”

“Hon,” she just laughs him off. “It’s okay, it only just came out.”

He nods, grateful, and lets her pour him a generous glass of wine. Red. A bottle of the Carignan, please, he remembers her telling the waiter. Although, when he takes a sip, he can’t tell the difference between this and the twenty-dollar cabernet he buys once a fortnight from the grocer.

They press the lips of their glasses together and murmur soft calls of cheers and another conference done, the words all but swallowed up by the raucous sounds around them.

“How is she then?” she prompts, never able to tame her curiosity.

“Ellie?” Joel’s eyebrows jut up, and he sets his wine glass down. “Good, yeah, good. It was nice to hear her voice, I, uh, I’ve missed too many of that kid’s calls over the past few months.”

Rachel nods, and when she smiles his chest feels a little lighter, because it’s the type of smile that says it’s okay, everything is okay, you’re a good dad, you took the call. And she has always had that kind of soothing effect on him, since the day he met her all those years ago. There’s this compassion to her character; a warmth akin to that of a sister. Smarter than hell and kinder than she’s ever been given credit for.

“Are you seeing her while you’re in town?”

“Mhm, tomorrow.”

“Well, that will be lovely,” she beams and takes a sip of her wine. Carignan stains her mouth. “Is she still with Nina?”

“She is.”

“God, that must be, what, four years they’ve been together now? That’s great, Joel.”

“I’m happy for her,” he smiles, gripping his fork. “They’re renting out this art studio together at the moment – Nina’s an artist too, did I—?”

“Yeah, you told me.”

“Yeah, they’ve been using the space to work on some new stuff. Ellie was tellin’ me ‘bout this gallery downtown, how they’ve offered her some exhibit space. Gonna have a show down there in March.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” Rachel’s eyebrows raise, top lip quirking into a soft smirk as she twirls her fork through a mess of red pasta. “Do you think they’ll get married? Follow in Sarah and Tim’s footsteps?”

Joel can’t help but laugh at the idea. He tries to imagine Ellie and Nina in a chapel, or on a beach, or anywhere, professing their love for one another with friends and family watching on. Tries to imagine Ellie, all tattoos, messy hair, and gangly arms, tucked into a suit or a dress. The image doesn’t come easily.

“I don’t really think they’re the type,” he admits, and Rachel laughs too then.

“No,” she agrees. “I guess not.”

She asks more questions about the girls, the way she always does. Asks about Sarah’s job at the primary school, if teaching is all she thought it would be.

And something like halfway through their meal, around a mouthful of food, Rachel says, “You know I’m glad we’re here, because I need to ask you something.”

Joel’s hands still, face going slack as he meets her eye. There’s something conniving in them. Something sly in the way she smiles, baring her teeth at him. It makes his stomach twist into a tight, burning knot. What does she know?

“Okay,” he says slowly, lowering his knife.

“So,” she hums. “At the conference yesterday…”

“Yeah?” he rasps, blunt nails digging into his thigh beneath the table.

“I couldn’t ask you about it because I didn’t want anyone to overhear us, but… did you see what Professor Neilson was wearing? That blazer?”

“Jesus,” he deflates.

“Oh, come on,” she sputters, and there’s lipstick stained on her front teeth and he finds himself smiling too, relaxing.

“You’re a filthy gossip, you know that?” he raises an eyebrow.

She grins back at him. Winks and says, “Don’t act like you don’t love it, Miller.”

So, for an hour they eat, and talk, and drink. Don’t stop until their cheeks are sore from smiling and their ribs are tight and aching from laughter.

With full bellies and rosy cheeks, they scrape their plates clean. Lips purse and pucker around final sips of wine, and then… and then Rachel reaches across the table and places her hand atop his.

And Joel has never noticed that she has sunspots across her knuckles. Never noticed that she wears a ring on her pinkie finger, one with a dark emerald stone in the middle. Never noticed the thin white scar beside the nail on her index. She squeezes his hand, the pad of a finger skimming his wrist, and he remembers how he held someone else’s wrist only hours before this. Felt her skin beneath his fingers – the frailty of the tendons and veins beneath it, swimming with life as his thumb pressed down.

Joel feels his eye twitch. Works to keep his face relaxed, calm. And when she leaves her hand there, he laughs a little. A choked, wary sound. Turns his hand over so his knuckles are against the table and his palm is against her palm and squeezes once in return. Rachel isn’t smiling anymore.

“You okay, Rach?”

“Do you…” she pauses, mouth twisting into a shy smile as she clears her throat. Joel feels something heavy settle in his stomach. A type of dread that curdles and burns like red sky at morning. “Do you remember when Sarah was in that car accident a few years back?”

Joel swallows. Her hand feels too warm against his, her palm tacky with sweat.

“We were… we were at work, and… and Tim called you and told you she was in the hospital—”

He almost cringes at the memory. Her husband’s name flashing across his phone screen during a lecture. Stomach churning and why is Tim calling me, heart racingand Tim never calls. Remembers hearing those panicky breaths down the line and thinking Texas and Maine had never felt further apart than in that moment.

“You drove me to the airport,” he nods. His knuckles feel tight – he wants to pull his hand back and crack them. Wants to feel the joints pop beneath his skin, let the tension slip away like a sigh.

“You were so distraught,” Rachel sighs. “I’d never seen you like that. So uncomposed, so… chaotic.”

Joel huffs out an awkward laugh and tries to pull his hand back, but she squeezes harder. Keeps it in place beneath her own.

“What’s this all about?” his eyebrows furrow, face pinching into a sort of scowl. He can feel it, he can always feel it when his face does this. So unpleasant, so unwelcoming, and he knows it. Just never figured out how to stop it from happening.

“We were in the car,” she continues, and her eyes are so earnest now. So wide, the whites shining, her lashes darkened and fanned out around them in a way he’s never seen before. She’s wearing makeup. “And you didn’t even have a bag packed, you just wanted to get to your girl. Needed to see her with your own eyes, make sure she was okay.”

His jaw feels tight inside his head; teeth clenched painfully, digging into the gums around his molars as the memory plays in his mind.

Tim’s voice wavering, crying, she was unconscious when they pulled her out.

His hand is numb beneath Rachel’s. She’s fine, he reminds himself. Sarah’s fine, that was years ago.

“I think I knew then,” she says quietly.

“Knew what?” Joel tries to keep his voice level. Ignoring the odd feeling that twists in his chest and has his heart racing faster, so much faster than normal, faster than it has ever raced for Rachel.

“That I loved you.”

It’s almost dreamlike, the way everything seems to blur and fade around them after she says it. Or perhaps nightmarish is the right word. A sharp pain sparks between his ribs and he feels his body stiffen and then loosen all at once. Face, shoulders, hand beneath hers – everything softens. Fuck. His mouth tastes like sandpaper, tongue resting fat and gravelly against the roof of it as she stares at him.

When he doesn’t say a word, she says, “I’d always known you were so kind, so generous to the people around you. But to see the way you love? It’s… shit, Joel, I just knew.”

He’s convinced his throat is tightening.

“And I held it in all of these years, and I’m sorry for that. I was just never sure of how you felt, and you never tried anything with me, never hinted at any feelings. But after the conference yesterday...”

“The conference?” he whispers. He pictures that bench outside NYU. Remembers the nasty wind, an empty champagne flute on the ground, the side of his body going hot where it pressed against hers.

“Walking around that hall together,” Rachel smiles. “You kept holding your arm out for me to hold, and I thought, god, maybe this is it. Maybe you actually feel the same.”

Joel imagines that this must be what people describe as critical velocity. Everything that once was smooth turns turbulent. Every second, every minute, that he’s allowed himself to careen forward, wanton and reckless, on the deliciously destructive course he’s set for himself – all of it just for someone close to him to step directly into his line of fire.

And his silence is so painfully telling. He knows immediately when it’s been too long, too much quiet, too many seconds of nothing said, of no reassurances offered. The muscle in her jaw ticks, and a vertical line appears between pinched eyebrows. Confusion, surprise, hurt. Her hand pulls back, and he tucks his in his lap quickly.

“Oh,” she whispers. “Oh, shit.”

Joel is suddenly certain that he’s going to be sick. His hands shake beneath the table, a violent tap tap tap where they’re clasped against the inside of his thigh.

“Rachel—”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Please, don’t apol—”

“I shouldn’t have said—”

“Rachel,” Joel’s voice raises, just a little, just enough to make her pause, enough for conversation at the table beside them to halt for a second. “If anythin’, I should be the one apologisin’.”

She laughs; a sad, quiet thing. Shakes her head at him.

“I guess I… somewhere in my head, I thought you knew,” Rachel says quietly. “Thought you….” The unspoken words hang in the air between them. Thought you felt the same.

And it hurts. His skin prickles at the sound of her voice; laced with pain, with rejection. Your fault, he thinks. That pain is your fault.

“Is there someone else?” she asks then, and her voice is so feeble. So small, so un-Rachel that it makes his chest feel tight. Your fault.

Joel sighs, cringes, fumbles for the right words. The words to explain something that he himself doesn’t even fully understand. Words that will make her feel better, that will put her at ease. Put him at ease.

“It’s not….” he trails off, half-prepared to lie. But then he meets her gaze. Sees the tears that have settled on her waterline and knows he can’t. Wants to hate her for asking, wants to beg her to take back the question. But in the end he just admits quietly, “I suppose there is.”

She sniffles, and when she speaks again, it almost sounds like a question.

“You never mentioned anyone.”

“I know,” Joel nods. “I’m sorry, I think I just… it’s complicated, and it… it’s new.”

“New,” she repeats softly. “And you never… you never thought of me that way.” This time it isn’t posed like a question. There is nothing open ended about it. Instead it’s resigned; final.

The corners of her mouth are downturned, and her lower lip wobbles, a movement so miniscule that he could have missed it if his eyes weren’t trained on her face. Trying painfully to understand this situation that feels as if it has crept up on him in his sleep.

“I’m sorry,” Joel finds himself saying again, and he thinks his eyes must be wide, unblinking, because they’re dry, and he feels panicked.

In his mind all he can think of is every cup of coffee in her office, every borrowed book, every sly joke in the corridor at work. Comforting smiles offered at conferences, snarky notes passed back and forth during faculty meetings. His friend. One of the truest, longest, most persevering ones in his life. One so dear to his heart. The idea of all of that being no more seems almost too painful to contemplate in the middle of a restaurant, with your fault thundering in his chest.

Rachel waves a hand. Feigns nonchalance and offers a watery smile.

“I’m happy for you, Joel,” she says. He doesn’t miss the waver in her voice, nor the harsh splash of crimson humiliation that stains the skin of her face. “I am. Really.”

Except he doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know what there is to be happy for. Can only watch her face. Can only sit, and stare like a fool at the way the skin beneath her eyes tightens as she draws back tears.

“I’m—” Rachel swallows. Sucks in a huge breath and flattens her palms against the table. Her napkin, stained with soft blots of red and brown, is pressed beneath the fingers of her left hand. The one with the sunspots and the ring and the scar. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me for a minute, I’m going to use the restroom—”

“Rach,” he tries, hand reaching across the table for—for what? Joel isn’t sure. What is there to do? To say? “What can I do?”

“It’s okay,” she stands, holds a hand out to silence him. Steps out from the behind table and squeezes past him. Her fingers brush against his arm as she goes. “It’s fine, I’m fine, I just need a second to freshen up.”

Joel watches her weave through the restaurant, shifting around tables, until her back disappears through a door at the far end of the room.

There’s a minute of painful quiet. A sort of buzzing in his ears that won’t go away. For a moment all he’s aware of is the look of disdain coming from the woman on the table to his left, and the sharp pain in his chest, and then the sounds of the restaurant come rushing back in. Cutlery scraping against plates, conversation, laughter, the sound of a bell ringing. And something buzzing, really truly buzzing this time. Something against his leg.

Joel pulls his phone out of his pocket and tries not to wince when he sees her name on the screen.

Are you enjoying your dinner?

The glance he spares over his shoulder is short, searching, looking to see if she’s coming back yet. Don’t make this worse than it already is.

Yeah, the restaurant is nice.

What are you doing?

Well my bags are packed, and I just tucked myself into bed

Something tightens in his stomach, and he knows what she’s doing, knows this game so well. The way she always manages to creep beneath his skin. Knows exactly what to say, to do, to have him hanging on her every word.

His fingers hover over the screen, contemplating a response.

Is that right? he types out, and then grimaces, backspacing quickly.

Want some company? he types next.

“Christ,” Joel mutters under his breath, erasing that too.

Embarrassment itches across his body. And then guilt, like a tidal wave chaser rushing to cool his inflamed skin, as he notices Rachel walking back toward him. You fucking asshole.

He straightens in his seat, tucking his phone out of sight as she hovers beside the table, eyes darting between him and her empty chair. She doesn’t sit down again.

“I think,” she takes a deep breath. “I think I should probably go. Early flight to catch, you know? I need to get some rest.”

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

He can feel his mouth hanging open, dumbfounded, ridiculous, as his brain scavenges for something to say. Never the right words, never when he needs them. Not for her, and not for Rachel.

Rachel reaches for her purse, and he holds out a hand. “Hey, let me… I’ll cover this.”

She pauses, nods. “Thanks.”

“Course,” he says gruffly. She pulls her coat from the back of her chair, wraps it around herself and does the buttons up slowly. Her mascara is smudged. “Hey, Rach, can we… should we talk about this some more? I don’t want to—”

“Not tonight,” she interrupts sharply. “Please, Joel, I’m sorry, just…. not tonight.”

—lose you.

“Sure, okay.” His throat is tight, your fault lodged heavy against his Adam’s apple. “You need help to get a taxi?”

“I’m fine,” she places a hand lightly on his shoulder, and presses her thumb against the skin beneath his collarbone. “Get home safe, okay? We can talk in Maine.”

“In Maine,” he repeats, and the words split and sour inside his mouth. “Okay.”

He doesn’t watch her leave. Doesn’t want to have to see her retreating from him. Doesn’t want to think about if this will be the last time they get to do this.

The waiter returns and he pays the bill, hastily jotting down a generous tip, and offers the women at the table on his left a tight-lipped smile before standing up.

When he finally makes his way outside, he finds a tax idling by the curb, lights on. The driver notices Joel staring; rolls down the window and raises his eyebrows. Where to?

Joel only shakes his head a little, leans his back against the dank, cold brick wall behind him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before opening his phone, and sends two words.

Show me.

And then, when she doesn’t respond for a moment, he sends another message. Insistent now. Desperate, and even more desperate not to let it show.

I know you want to show me, sweetheart.

And when she does show him, it takes all of his might not to let this guilt consume him. Takes everything not to ruminate on how quickly he can shift from I’m sorry to Show me.

Because her skin.

So much skin.

Soft, smooth; shrouded in a robe that covers more than he’d like, and he knows how it tastes. Knows how it feels. Could press his fingers, his lips, his nose, to every part of it that he’s touched, in the exact same places, from memory alone.

It’s cold outside – windy, the beginnings of tomorrow’s storm twisting through the air. He feels it snake across his neck, curl beneath the lip of his collar, as he takes in the curve of her breast, the stiff point of her nipple, peeking out from behind white fabric. His cock stiffens in his pants.

He gazes at the softest part of her stomach, the thatch of curls that cover her mound, and wants to press his palms against the plush of her thighs. Wants to lay himself atop her, feel that skin against his again, hear her whimper and moan beneath the broad weight of him as he slips inside her. Wants to snatch her finger from her mouth and glide it inside his own. With her slick and her skin against his tongue, he’d sink his teeth in and inhale that warmth, that beating, pulsating force that he’s found himself so intoxicated by.

And to think, only hours ago, he was doing just that. Lowering himself to the ground in a public bathroom and drinking her down. Feeling the muscles in her thighs pull tight and then loose against the sides of his head. Anything to satisfy the craving that only she seems to inspire in him.

Resolute, persistent – a probing, prodding thing that nips at his heels and thrusts him forward at a double time pace.

A hunger that follows him down the nights and down the days.

A hunger that can only ever be sated like the taking of a sacrament – on his knees, devotion in his eyes.

Jesus.

Are you wet?

You know I am.

Are you touching yourself?

Joel’s jaw tightens. He holds his breath and waits. Can’t quite tell what would be worse; knowing that she’s touching herself, alone, thinking about him, or that she isn’t, that she’s waiting for him. He can feel his cock leaking against his thigh.

No.

He exhales heavily, and the faintest hint of a groan slips out with it. Fuck, pull yourself together.

Joel’s fingers float over the keyboard, and for a moment he thinks of Rachel.

Thinks that if he could only bring himself to look up, to look away from her, he might be able to see Rachel still. The back of her coat, the dark scrawl of her hair, disappearing into the night. Joel thinks of the tears in her eyes, taunting him, threatening to spill spill spill, to streak down rosy cheeks and wet the hollow of her throat. Feels something throb and crack in his chest – a painful, resounding ache that hurts so much like fear, like loss.

Your fault, your fault, your fault.

And wouldn’t that be so much easier? If he were to look away, to chase his friend down the street and tell her that he was wrong, that he wants her, that it makes sense for them to be together. Wouldn’t it be easier if that were true?

But he doesn’t stop looking at her. He thinks of Pothos, of Himeros, and stares at the soft curve of her stomach, the indent of her belly button. Looks at the way her lower lip rests below her finger and pictures it swollen, slick with a medley of her spit and his. Even notices a small mark, nestled in the crevice between her hip and the top of her thigh. A fading remnant of where his teeth had once pinched – like a tangible little footprint, whispering that he was there.

Longing and desire flame between the cracks of his ribs; a bright white heat that curls itself around your fault until he manages to shake the thought.

What was it that Kaminsky said? There was no mythology: Odysseus hanged himself. Homer drank to death and stank of mud.

And perhaps he was right; for there is no witness to this. No being over his shoulder, God or mortal, to lay their eyes upon this moment and understand that all he has ever known of love is deprivation. That fondest, blindest, weakest part of his being that has always yearned for, or perhaps grieved over, this love that once seemed so intangible and now, at last, maybe he has been deemed worthy of.

Alone so long, living in a body grown accustomed to such quiet. Familiar with no touch other than that of his own rough palms. And now… the intensity of it shakes within him. The urge to sink his teeth in like a bad dog and hold, hold, hold, to consume and be consumed, and never yield to anyone who wants to take this away from him.

No, there is no looking away from that, from her. Joel feels the noose tighten around his neck the longer he stares – a dog on the leash of its own longing, that need only sharpening with every second that dares to pass.

And Joel knows that nothing has ever been easy. Considers the idea that maybe that’s how it was supposed to be for him. And perhaps he doesn’t want easy, doesn’t want simple. No – Joel was always drawn to the flame.

Good.

Dinner finished early. Where are you?

And that flame welcomes him now in kind. The arms of a lover spread open for embrace; the address of her hotel sent directly to his phone.

Joel looks up and makes eye contact with the taxi driver again. Light still on.

Where to?

**the Kaminsky mentioned in this is Ilya Kaminsky, and the quote is from Dancing in Odessa.

thank you for reading! x

#my writing #fic: a lover's pinch #professor!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction

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ilys00ga · 3 months

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐓.𝟐

➞ pair: yoongi x f reader

➞ synopsis: where you meet him during your best friend's wedding. can a heart beat again after breaking to pieces?

➞ genre: best friend's brother!yoongi, actress!female reader, bookshop owner!yoongi, angst, kind of hurt/comfort, there's also some fluff, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn.

➞ warnings: mentions of cheating, heartbreak, reader is going through some deep shit, failed past relationship, alcohol consumption (drink mindfully and responsibly (not me saying this when I don't even drink lmao)). this is PURE fiction!

➞ A/N: I wanna start by saying thank you to the one or two persons who requested another part of this fic. as I mentioned before, I had no intention or inspiration to write more of it, but I'm glad that yall forced me into coming up with this (jkjk). I don't KNOW how and what , but I WANT to write more parts of this. so, in the meantime, enjoy this and expect something to be posted in some few months lmao. I had to rewrite this a hundred times, I kind of don't wanna proofread it ever again 😭 so pls ignore any mistakes or questionable points (🙏🙏🙏!!!!!!). love <3

➞ tags: @viankiss + @parkjennykim + @acquiescence804

★ MASTERLIST.

Ethereal clouds blanketed the sky above the town, giving a gleam of light every now and then as they played a game of hide and seek with the sun. The crisp wind bit the skin of your face, carrying the scent of freshly wet concrete in every direction it went. the world was vivid in color around you and underneath your feet. As per always, nothing could beat the delight of walking down the street shortly after a round or two of rain.

as you make your way down the sidewalk, you reach a shopwindow displaying a collection of book goodness. The huge sign right at the top of the storefront read 'SNOOZE', and you wondered what kind of significance it carried for it to be the chosen name of the shop before you.

not wasting any more precious time, you decided to pay a visit and see if any book would call out your name as soon as it spots you, and lure you closer to fan its pages and listen to their story.

The first thing that welcomed you as soon as you walked into the place was a radiating warmth. the air was sweet-scented with a mix of wood, paper, new and old books, multiple perfumes and a mouth watering smell of both coffee and tea. It was almost too overwhelming, but the atmosphere soaked your heart with so much comfort almost immediately that it left you speechless.

The shop was on two floors. The first one was largely specious. Every wall was loaded up with books neatly lined up from top to bottom, and planted everywhere were tables presenting neatly organized books. Some people were scattered around, talking in hushed voices or just silently browsing. Others you could see chilling on the second floor, where a coffee bar was. It was not as spacious as the one underneath, but it was commodious enough for some extra small couches and chairs here and there.

you started walking around the lovely aisles, taking your time as you scanned through them. your finger ran down spines, and your nose inhaled the sweet, dearly loved smell of paper books in.

At the heart of your wandering, piano notes rode the air inside the shop, rushing as they slipped between shelves and making their way to your ears. it tugged a smile on your face, the smooth melody that sounded somewhat familiar, and you stalked its source with sheer curiosity.

There, when you finally made it, you found the man you met at your best friend’s wedding a couple of months earlier, seated on the piano bench, focused. Yoongi was his name. Yoongi, Soyoon’s older brother, who walked around with a box of UNO cards in his pocket. such a memorable person.

He looked slightly different than the last (fist and only) time you saw him, though. His hair was shorter, pushed back with a pair of sunglasses resting on his head. He also had sidecuts, and some ear piercings. totally different from the other day.

perhaps the "performance" went on for about two minutes more, u couldn't tell, but soon he had his hands clasped on his lap and smiled, satisfied. Before you could walk away, Yoongi turned and his eyes immediately fell on you. ‘oh’, he whispered as his eyes widened in surprise, and you cracked a faint smile.

"didn't expect to see you again." he spoke first, standing up and approaching you.

"Me neither. I was losing hope in playing another round of UNO with you again."

"Well, about that.." scratching the back of his head, he bit his lip sheepishly and confessed, "I kept a box in my pocket for days but then lost track and didn’t think we’d see each other again.."

"Too bad I can't beat you today.." you scrunched your nose teasingly.

"we can play another time?" he suggested, tucking his hands into the pockets of his dark pants and relaxing his board shoulders.

"Sure, why not." you averted your eyes from his for a moment before meeting them again with a small smile.

Neither of you said anything for a short moment. it wasn't exactly awkward—or at least not from your end—in fact, something deep inside kept eagerly nagging, pushing you to say something and keep pulling strings of conversation from the man before you. so, you decided to comply and chat up with a hint of hesitance hanging from your teeth, "You work here?"

"oh, yeah. with a friend of mine." he answered, "is there anything specific you'd like?"

"no, I’d just discovered the place so I was walking around."

"I see… coffee? or do you prefer tea?"

"Coffee is good."

"Alright, come with me." He led you upstairs, told you to take a seat, and started preparing two cups for the both of you. Truthfully speaking, the cozyness of the store caught you off guard. really. It didn't feel like a shop, no, it felt like a private reading space in the comfort of your own house. For a moment, you felt sad as you wondered whether it was a painfully underrated place or not. It would've been such a shame if a place like that one wasn't appreciated enough, you thought.

a stretched out arm placed a cup in front of you. looking up, you were reminded of his presence once again.

"there you go," he said and sat across from you.

"How's the situation here?" you inquired, fingers hugging the warm mug between your hands.

"pretty good. We started recently, but it's already going well."

"I see." you nodded your head and took a sip, "Associating readers and bookworms all day must be nice."

"It's fun, sometimes." he hummed, "Are you one?"

"a bookworm? not really, no. I mean, I do love reading but I'm almost always busy filming so.."

"filming…?"

"oh, yeah. I'm an actress. a very not well known one, at that." you chuckled.

"That's cool." you could read elements of genuine interest off of his expression. you weren’t sure why, but it made you smile.

"you think so?" you asked.

"Of course I do. acting has always been interesting to me."

The two of you exchanged bits of comments and opinions for a few more minutes. it wasn't until you glanced down at your wrist watch that you realized it was time for you to leave.

"But you haven't picked a book yet," he insisted when you got up and bid your goodbyes.

"there were too many good ones, I really couldn't choose."

"Wait, come with me." you trailed along behind him as he headed downstairs, until he came to a halt and showed you a tall bookcase. written on the very top was a big “BLIND DATE WITH A BOOK”. Each one of the books in it was wrapped in the same gray paperwrap and had words scribbled on it. after a quick glance, you could tell that they were short anonymous letters.

"People drop mystery books here all the time. see if you find something that stirs your interest?" Yoongi proposed.

Doing as he said, you went through the notes, reading each one carefully, until one grabbed your attention.

“for the mourning soul,

harried and frayed at the edges,

this is a hug from me to you.”

It read.

“Good choice.” somewhere to your left, you could hear Yoongi softly muttering.

"baby, please listen to me!" he pleaded, hand tightening around your arm to prevent you from walking away.

"What more do you have to say? I saw everything with my own eyes!" your voice cracked as you held a sob in, trying so hard to hold yourself together and not break down in front of the man that just broke your heart with no care.

"it's not what it looks like! I love you, why'd you think I would lie to you?!"

and all of a sudden, every word known to man vanished from the top of your tongue. your brain went blank, your face frozen. all you could muster was a faint "...you.."

“Cut!” the director’s voice rang out and sliced its way through the scene.

Everyone on set looked at you with knitted brows as he walked up to you, pulling you aside. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, mentally preparing yourself for whatever remark he was intending to deliver your way.

“__, we’ve done intense scenes like this one before. I know you can do better.” he crossed his arms, eyebrows inching closer to each other as he spoke.

“I'm sorry, sir. it's just so ha-"

“How hard can it be to express and demystify being cheated on? have you never been cheated on before? just conjure that picture up, then translate and convey it. it’s not that hard.” he rolled his eyes and instructed with a sharp tone. it made your stomach twist again and you felt sick, almost as though those pair of strict eyes grew an arm and bunched you right in the chest, hence your aching bottom lip as you chewed at it and looked down at your feet.

and with a timid voice, you answered, “I know, I'm sorry, I will try my best.”

“right.” was all he muttered before he walked away, announcing a ten minutes long break to the whole crew.

it took everything within you not to walk up to him and scream at his face until your throat bled and burned with an old rage. you really wanted to do that, but you didn’t. you couldn't. so you just stood there and watched the room move like nothing had been said.

A guy walked in. He hastened to reach the director and whispered something in his ear. another guy came up and handed you a cup of coffee. you thanked him and put your mind to the drink, savoring its bitterness as it washed every corner of your mouth.

some minutes later, your phone beeped with an incoming message:

from Saera <3: There’s something i think you should know. Let's meet up when you’re done.

Planning it all step by step was what the universe had done. the director suddenly called it a wrap, and the room was moving quicker than before.

“Here’s your bottle, miss.” a blond bartender said with a sweet grin on his face. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a necklace sitting comfortably between the partially exposed pecks of his chest—a sight you were sure you didn’t see a few minutes ago since the first few buttons of his shirt were definitely not unbuttoned.

You muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ and opened the bottle of your favorite alcoholic drink, filling the empty glass you were clutching with the other hand and taking a decent sip. it burnt as it washed down the walls of your throat, to your chest and spread all over your system.

“Oof, I really needed that.” hissing, you threw your head backward.

Over the past couple of months, that bar came to be a comfort zone for you. when the emotions you tenderly carried in the palms of your hands overflowed and raced down your arms, reaching your elbows to then drip like heavy raindrops by your feet on the floor, you rushed your way to this pub to pat it dry.

Maybe it was the coziness of its vintage interior decor presented to the visiting eye that pulled you in. or the quiet atmosphere that lured every presence that steps into the place with curious eyes, welcoming it with a warm embrace and a gentle smile. or the hushed voices of customers spending their time in various of ways and feelings, one sitting alone and sipping on a huge glass of beer with a grim face, another sitting lifelessly with barely opened eyes and a bunch of empty glasses stacked up on the table before them, a couple with tinted cheeks sharing whispered love between each other and some elderly people just hanging out here and there.

The cocky bartender was somehow always on shift whenever you showed up. He seemed to love shamelessly hitting on you with that large smile of his, but Instead of paying him any attention, you fix your eyes on the stacked up bottles and glasses behind him, shining with reflections of soft yellow, and politely smile back every single time. That didn't seem to wind him up, though.

A thick steam of thoughts fogged your mind up as you sat on one of the high red stools lined up at the counter, facing the room with your back and consuming one glass after another.

A soft knock on the wooden counter to your right pulled you out of your wandering thoughts. your back stiffened and your head snapped up. Then you saw him, once again, Yoongi smiling down at you, and he ever so softly said, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

He didn't have his sunglasses above his head, you noticed. his fringe fell on his forehead, and he didn't have the piercings on, you noticed that too. Amber light bulbs beamed gold on his pale skin, going perfectly right with the black silk dress shirt he was wearing.

"Are you stalking me?" you said with a thick, slurred voice.

he tilted his head, still smiling, and pointed, "this bar is two blacks away from the bookshop. I like to come here often."

you didn't say anything further—maybe it was just the alcohol, or maybe it was something you couldn't confidently put your finger on, but there was a voice that kept praising his face in the back of your head and you just sat there, listening, observing, red-cheeked, droopy-eyed, motionless.

Yoongi nodded towards the seat right next to yours and muttered, “can i?”

"o-of course!" you spat an answer out, pressing your eyes shut and facing away from him. maybe drinking too much wasn't the best idea that night. or maybe it was that you should've paid more attention and recognized the very familiar street beforehand? either way, you felt too unstable to function in front of another human being at that moment.

"You look troubled." was the first thing he said after the batista had come, served him the drink he ordered and left again.

"ah… just tired."

The man didn't say anything for a while. The frown he immediately noticed on your face when he spotted you just earlier ran a hundred questions in his brain, however, at the very tip of his tongue laid a question he really wanted to voice out ever since the two of you had met at the bookstore, but he just couldn't.

After giving it some thought, he gathered some strength and decided to just ask his concern away.

“that thing you told me about the other day,” he started, carefully picking his words, and you tried to listen as attentively as your fogged up mind could, "does it still hurt?”

At first, you couldn't understand what he was referring to exactly, not until you thought back on the two times you two had met before.

he watched your pointer finger, the one you'd been gliding along the rim of your glass freeze. He didn’t speak, neither did you. it seemed like neither of you was breathing for a few seconds. The air in the room was getting colder, and so were the tips of your fingers as they hung above and barely touched the rim.

Gulping the saliva that gathered on top of your tongue, you contemplated whether you should provide an answer to his question or just ignore it like it was never asked at all. This was a question no one had ever asked you since the entire cheating situation had happened. it was always ‘are you okay?' or ‘Did you move on?’. something of the sort. Not once did anyone wonder whether it still stinged your heart every time the image of your ex popped up before your eyes or not. not once did anyone ask if the scene still haunted you after all these months or not.

But it’s not like you were mad or pointing accusatory fingers at anybody. the pain was yours, and only you shall bask and drown in it. only you shall figure out how the fuck to get the hell out of that dark pit and heal from it.

It was just something that you yourself were too caught up in the hurricane of your grief and bitterness to even ask your own self, ‘does it really still hurt?’, ‘Are you getting any better?’, 'are you still stuck?', 'what if you're stuck there forever?'

It took a long moment before you could manage a proper reply to that stirring query. until you uttered a small ‘he died’ loud enough for him to hear.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see him lifting his head, yet he remained silent. you rawly added, "the asshole died in a car accident like nothing had happened at all... tell me," you paused to lift your tremling hand and rest its palm over your chest, right where you heart was beating fast, " how should I mend what’s been ruptured in here now..? Why is it even still hurting..? Why am I mad..? I don't understand. Do you..? I…”

Yoongi took his time to answer, humming then absent-mindedly nodding his head before speaking again, “it takes some time.”

“how do you know that?” you inquired again, lifting your head to have a look at his side profile.

“I know how it feels to be abandoned by someone so special, at the very least.”

“you got dumped?” you blurted.

He let out a breathy scoff, lightly scratching at the skin under his left eye with flushed cheeks.

“did you really have to say it that way?” he hissed playfully and wet his lower lip, eyes pinned on yours, “but yes, my ex left me to chase after her dreams.”

somewhere deep in those dark orbs, you could catch a glimpse of something sorrowful, but it quickly vanished as he attempted to smile and then looked away.

“I guess we’re both losers, then.” you downed the three quarters full glass in one draft. The room was spinning. you were feeling gradually more light-headed.

“We are not losers just because we got our hearts broken.” Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t sound that buzzed yet. his voice got deeper, and his words stood steady the more he talked.

“Then what are we? If not a loser, then what does being cheated on or abandoned for some worldly goal make you?" tears started welling up from deep inside, but even in your dizzy state, you couldn't let them out. not at that moment, not with Yoongi some inches away from you. you gulped, and with a trembling voice, you muttered, "being stuck in one square while they move on with their lives and build castles for themselves, then have the audacity to die like nothing had happened at all, what does that make you?”

“a lover. being betrayed by a loved one despite all the unconditional love you offered makes you somebody who loves so sincerely. a wretched lover."

you allow his words to set in, analyzing them briefly and pondering before letting a snort out.

“That's even worse.” you said, bitterly.

Yoongi smiled, equally bitter as you, "turns out we're actually more similar than I had thought."

a ‘do you need anything else, dear?’ popped your little bubble up when the bartender showed up again, not once glancing at the man sitting right next to you as he addressed all of his attention towards you.

“no, we’re leaving.” came a sharp answer from Yoongi, and when you glanced at him you saw that his face held a stiff expression, one that was very different from the wide smile and crinkly eyes it was displaying some minutes ago.

The bartender turned his head towards him with a flat smile, then excused himself to serve some new customers.

“we’re leaving?” you tilted your head with furrowed eyes in confusion.

“yeah. you look gone as hell, and it’s getting late.” he started getting up, “i’ll give you a ride.”

“That sounds about right.” absently nodding your head, you stood up as well, and he guided you out of the building.

The door to your flat beeped once automatically unlocked, and just as you stepped in, you were faced with Saera. she stood there with her hands on her hips, eyeing your drunken state, unsatisfied. her shoulders lowered, and her brows rose as soon as she caught sight of Yoongi standing right behind you, then said: “you two..”

Yoongi began explaining the situation briefly to her, scratching the back of his neck as he stuttered on his words and blushed.

“she's not that wasted. All is good. Just put her to bed.” he finished his summary and hummed, satisfied with himself.

Before Saera could say anything, you grumbled an “I can take care of myself just fine.” and walked up to your room with unsteady steps, waving them off.

“and I'll go.” Yoongi mumbled, quickly walking out with a ghost of faint red still remaining on his plump, milky cheeks.

#bts yoongi #yoongi #bts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader #bts scenarios #min yoongi #yoongi angst #suga fluff #suga angst #strangers to friends #friends to lovers #bts fic #suga fic

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majorproblems77 · 2 months

Text

Hello LU fans! I'm back with another LU update analysis! :D

Are you ready cause there's so much to unpack I'm gonna be here a while. Like last time I'm gonna put a timer on lmao, see how long this takes me.

As always grab your popcorn and drink of choice, cause we need hydration in this life.

all art belongs to @linkeduniverse and Jojo, and if I pull panels from any other pages I'll let you know where it's from! :D

Obviously spoilers for Dawn 8 :D

And a note, I've not played TP or WW, you'll see why thats important later.

Let us begin, shall we!

Man, Poor wild, he's probably beating himself up like there's no tomorrow right now. He looks HORIFIED.

Probably because in technicality, he failed.

I love how he's holding his sword here too. Kinda acting as a shield to the conversation.

Same expression as wild. He also looks horrified. Infact the resemblance between these two in uncanny.

Man time really is the dad isnt he. Unimpressed dad look at 12'oclock. Jokes aside he doesn't look angry about it. He looks like he now gathering information from those who finished the fight. As we know once he left with Twilight he was the only other one to not make it back to the fight.

Thats a fair sentence, thinking about it, I think the only other game where Iron Knuckles appear is in one of Hyrule's games? I'm surprised he's not mentioned anything about it.

Most of the others do have armoured enemies though. So while the others dont have direct experience I assume they have the basics.

All but, Sky and Wars None of them fight armoured enemies like that in their games.

I assume because he's defeated this thing like it was a guardian (Stasis and then wailing on it cause that's what i would do lmao) He assumed it was defeated when it exploded into pieces. Like guardians are prone to do. tbh he was probably gonna go back to look for loot at some point.

You tell them Wind. The small hero, underestimated by everyone BUT Time. Was correct thank you.

Justice for the windy boy.

God Wild really is beating himself up about this. I love the fact that we see four's reaction to this statement. As to be honest. Over the last few nights, Four and Wild have had plenty of bonding moments. These guys are gonna become best friends.

And now we get Time.

The way he's looking over these panels. That look. He know's he's the leader of this group but something that Time isn't used to is making Permanent mistakes.

He has the Ocarina of Time, and when he was back in Termina every time something went wrong he could just play the song of Time and restart the three-day cycle with no trouble at all.

Time, as a person. Isnt technically used to failing.

This panel is stunning. It's what I assume is going on inside his head. It's so pretty. It's so detailed it's just oh man easily one of my favourite panels.

now you know i had to talk about panels with my beloved blorbo in.

first off he's so pretty. Jojo has really outdone herself with just how amazing these updates have looked. The lighting the shading its all just so incredible.

The first half of this panel with Sky's face. He, He is beating himself up about the injury. He had nothing to do with it but he cares so much about the rest of the group he feels bad. He kinda looks like he's thinking about it. Like he can see it. Like time did but we dont see inside Sky's head.

Makes me think about what exactly he saw.

And Twilight's face, he looks so sad. His little pout. Poor wolf boy, which we can now call you properly as the rest of them know now.

And to be honest I'm glad he's standing his ground. Mr, My injury isn't that bad before falling over. the stubborn ranch hand strikes again.

The parallels from this frame and the one from later have been mentioned elsewhere but I'm just gonna post the frame here as it's turned up. Run you coward lizard. Run.

Captain link is back. Poor warriors, he's still showing signs of being stressed. He's one of the only one's who hasn't been able to rest over the downtime that they've had. He's been busy being in charge of the group while Time was out.

I can only assume it's only a matter of time before this comes back to get him. Maybe he is next on the chopping block? (Pun kinda intended) Something could happen and he messes up and gets hurt of causes someone to get hurt.

oh and also

THE SCARF

THE SCARF THE SCARF

IT HAS RETURNED ALL HAIL THE BLUE EMOTIONAL SUPPORT BLANKET WARRIORS NEEDED YOU.

None of us did, Hyrule.

The boys ever, I'm glad they are talking about this like this. And that it's legend who's starting to throw ideas out there like this. As the one who's got the most experience in the group, it makes sense that he would be the one to start offering ideas as to Why not just how.

Because you pissed it off Sky. Because half of you pissed it off. In fact I do believe he had a bunch of panels in Shifting Shadows pt2 where you indeed pissed it off.

The entire reason it started running from you and Twilight had to track it was because of FI's reaction to his sword.

Wait... that explains the guilt. It is actually potentially Sky's fault. Or if he's anything like I think he is. He remembers that fight with the shadow and knows.

He knows.

Also, with clenched fist Sky is ready for a fight. Next time the shadow turns up I assume he's gonna go after it when it's inevitablebly goes after Twilight/Wild. Maybe he'll jump in after being told not too because the Master sword appears to be the only thing as of right now that can fight the red stuff that comes off the shadows sword.

did you hear Warriors shiver? I did.

And you'd know all about that wouldn't you Four. :D

Also

Mandatory Sky appreciation picture

Him's my beloved blorbo. He's wonderful. Such a lil guy. Bestest bean. My beloved. /pl

Anyway moving on

Oh yeah, the amount of power that the items list contains We've seen the arsenal that they have between them (in the December art).

We saw what just Time could do.

Now add the rest of them and the enemies dont stand a chance. They've just gotta figure out how to either avoid the weapons of each other or work as a team with the arsenal in hand to fight better.

Like imagine if Twilight used his gale boomerang to send Wild into the air.

(Writer brain go brr, gonna write that down)

It's basically Revalis Gale.

This man is so damn dramatic I love him

And here's the parallel frame

the shadow running towards Warriors vs running away from Twilight.

You know thinking about it... Shadow didn't shapeshift until Twilight did. The push towards Warriors was when shadow thought they were on level footing.

But when Twilight went after Dink, he was the one who had to flee because he lost his advantage.

ANGRY SKY ANGRY SKY ANGRY SKY

The man is pissed that Shadow hurt Twilight. He is so damn mad and I think that he is saying what he would assume Fi would. (With more emotion because well, Fi)

Also that last frame.

TIME AND SKY ANGST ON THE HORIZON?

time is looking towards the master sword. And he looks angry. This will absolutely have gone unnoticed by the others because if they saw he was angry it was probably just because of the conversation topic.

god I love the dynamic here and I'm excited to see if it goes anywhere

Him's I love his simple way of agreeing its wonderful.

I approve to wind let's go blow some stuff up!

Hyrule shows the group why he is called the traveller. The man just wants to go on his adventures let him go!

Sky is so proud of himself

this face says 'Look guys I didn't give it to the weird toilet hand! :D'

I love this man a healthy amount.

One last thing before I go

I love this update as a whole, seeing the group gear up and getting to see the layers of the armour and straps and fastenings being put on while they are having this discussion is amazing.

I'd give you a collection of pictures but Tumblr is being rude and I can't post more than 30. So you can have these as all four panels show what I'm talking about.

Twilight adjusting his gauntlets warriors adjusting his scarf.

Hyrule attaching his shield to his back and putting his sword strap on.

God, I love this update so much. It was amazing and I very much enjoyed it. Let me know what you think! :D

Thank you as ever for reading my rambles i appreciate you :D

Have a wonderful day and dont forget to hydrate! See you next time!

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lowkeyrobin · 2 months

Text

MCYT ; you ride a bike

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, & quackity

warnings ; language

I love passenger princessing my mom on her trike so here's this

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

he's absolutely mortified to get on the back with you at first

you convince him to just ride him around the neighborhood nice and slow and he over time gets used to it because you suggest going short distances on it rather than taking a bus and stuff

he grows on it though

his helmet has some stickers on it, one literally says tommyinnit.store in bold font 💀💀💀

either holds on the sidebars thatre there for him to hold or around your waist

he finds the wind against him therapeutic

the butterflies when you turn around and ask if he's okay, especially when it's dark and cold

constantly snapping jack, freddie & tubbo pictures of him on your bike/riding around with you/where you go

posts a lot of pictures on his Instagram

most of them are you & the scenery

"do you wanna learn how to drive a bike?"

"no???"

he unironically loves shouting at shit drivers who cut you off or try to get you killed

"WATCH IT ASSHOLE! YOU ALMOST GOT US KILLED, USE A BLINKER NEXT TIME!"

loves going over bridges

if he has somewhere to be after a ride, he'll gladly show up with his hair a mess and ass hurting since you need to put a few more pounds of air in his seat LMAO

"okay, so-"

"Tommy, why are you limping?"

TUBBO

idk if that pic of him w the bike & helmet is real or means that he actually knows how to drive a bike but shit

he'd probably be the one to ask you if he could jump on the back before you left to ride with some friends

you obviously said of course bc you had an extra helmet laying around

he loved it lmao

he loved the air against his face and how fresh it felt

even if the backroads you took were 99% trees, they kept him entertained because he'd never been down them/rarely goes down them bc why would he

loves taking pictures of you + the scenery

religiously posts pictures on his Instagram

you went to a sunflower field together and he constantly looks over those pictures because it was just so beautiful

only has a couple stickers on his helmet, he seems like the type to overthink stickers (same)

likes holding out his arms on straight roads like a bird

loves going out at night, the lights are so awesome to him

asks you to go over/find more bridges lmao

RANBOO

he's 50/50 on being scared and wanting to get on with you

they man up and just do it after lots of reassuring

so many pictures lmao

litters his helmet with stickers and white marker doodles

has a sticker of the boober particle + one that just says ranboo.fashion in comic sans

he finds the air against him very therapeutic

loves going down backroads and finding new restaurants

always taking pictures, mostly of you

loves wearing his R800 jacket cause it keeps him warm + free promo

makes "I'll jump off rn" jokes

likes spreading his arms out like an eagle and will yell over the engine LMAO

loves bumps even though they'll hurt immediately after

FREDDIE BADLINU

you ask if he wants to come and he shrugs with a yeah

his first ride was at night so he got to enjoy all the lights and night life

takes a bunch of pictures and videos and sends them to Bill or Tommy

changes his insta bio to "my biker partners passenger prince" + bonus points if that's how he softlaunches your relationship

convinces you to go through a drive thru

eating lunch in the sun was a 10/10, will do it again

takes some cute pictures at stops/lights where he's leaning onto you a bit and he holds the phone in front of you to get both of you

wears dumbass hoodies/jackets w the dumb shit on the back to make ppl look at him weird or smile a bit

he'll show up to Tommy's live show (part of the bit) with messy hair and come on stage and tommy will look at him confused

Freddie asks him what's wrong and tommy just points and circles around his hair and the crowd laughs

"I was with my partner"

cue the laughing

"wait what?" Tommy laughs

"we were riding around the city before we got here, sorry"

NIKI NIHACHU

she thinks it's so cool, trust me

but like Tommy, she's very nervous to get on at first

you take her for a little ride around a parking lot and she's like "Okay I liked that let's actually go now"

her helmet has all sorts of stickers on it, but they're placed to look cool

there's a snake hide looking one down the middle and some cool patterned ones on the sides

she loves the wind in her hair and the feeling of being free

loves taking pictures of the scenery and even using you as a model

loves posting those pictures online for her fans to see

her editor fans always edit the pictures you two take together when you're out and about and whatnot it's so cool

you custom made her a leather jacket that fit her aesthetic

and she's super attached to it

she'll change her insta bio to "that one biker chicks girlfriend" LMAO

she spoils you like you're the one with the large social media platform its adorable

ALEX QUACKITY

"SINCE WHEN THE HELL DID YOU RIDE A BIKE???"

he thinks it's really badass tho

he'll gladly jump on with you

he's honestly scared after getting on but loses the fear pretty quickly

lovesss holding his arms out like a bird it's so fun to him

constantly asking you to tighten his helmet LMFAO

he finds it really entertaining in general

although if he's not wearing a full face covering helmet and wearing one of the head covering ones, you'll have to listen to his wailing later

his hair isn't long enough to completely pull back and the wind obviously tangles it up bad

so you gotta sit him down and try and carefully like de-matte his hair

he loves taking pictures and posting them tho, especially ones of you LMAO

sometimes he'll go the extra mile to give it a corny caption too

you change his insta bio to "passenger prince of the year"

always feels a little special and giggly when you ask if he's okay, especially when it's getting darker and much colder

"I told you to just wear the-"

"I know! please just do it for me! it hurts!"

"either grow your hair out or wear the other, lex"

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #quackity x reader #badlinu x reader #tubbo x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #niki nihachu x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #they/them reader

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jazeswhbhaven · 4 days

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He Never Misses! (Leraye Limited Event React I)

Okay so, here's the damn thing about this event.

I loved the amount of peeking into each noble's dynamic with each other so much and I love the fact that this is pretty much a slice-of-life approach to how a "normal" day in Gehenna was and is.

In an overall sense we get a good dose of Sitri, interesting pop-ins from Astaroth and Paimon, and a little surprise visit that had me squealing later.

This, my lovelies is 6 part reaction because I took that many damn screenshots and I honestly wish there was a better way to upload them all on one or two posts without a photo limit. BUT alas...

Make sure to grab a snacky snack, and let's dive in...to the life of long-haired Leraye~ ┬─┬(◕‿◕♡)

So we enter with Astraoth just minding his business and cruising around the palace and Sitri just comes up and starts getting onto him about not being at the palace lol

Turns out he was gone for a while because he was tending to his hobbies which is corrupting...

You hear that everyone? He corrupts anyone so keep your windows open (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

I'm really crying right now, so basically he's telling why it took particularly long this time around because he was dealing with someone who hated their dead-end job. (sounds fucking familiar right?)

nah now think about it, imagine wildly that someone at pb put that in the event as a joke when in reality somebody either once quit before or secretly a current employee can't stand work and low key just slid that idea in....buttt let's get back to the event lmao

Sitri hit 'em with the "Sorry I'll you finish but-" treatment. Though it's for good reason..

Awhhhh Roro...(yes my nickname for him leave me be) LET HIM FINISH

So basically what happened is that Sitri lost his favorite pen (rly?) it's the color of Solomon's hair and he put some of this man's hair in the ink and now he's lost it and he can't find it.

It's funny because Astaroth said the same thing as me "Why would you do that?" but he understood the sentiment behind it and was willing to give Sitri some insight on who to ask to find something like that.

LERAYE!

So our boy has crazy good eyesight. Like dangerously good to the point where I want to swap my eyes out with his because good lord I'd love a reason to not spend money on glasses with these expensive ass lenses.

So fun side note here that everyone leaves their door open except for Sitri, who most likely just likes his privacy or is used to having his door closed because perhaps the room he stayed in during Hades always had the door closed? Something along those lines I would like to think.

So now here are some nice Leraye and Paimon dynamics <3 our poor fave femboy lost his piercing recently and was asking Leraye to help find it. So it appears that either the piercing is shaped like Ppyong like the barette on his hair, or it's as big as he is, which last time I checked isn't Ppyong technically the largest red lump? (idk everyone else is pretty tiny when compared to him in the red lump family)

Okay nvm my previous thing it's shaped like Ppyong (LMAO) and this sounds cute actually, beside the fact that it becomes a fucking bomb all of the sudden (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

like imagine the TSA having a field day finding one of those...

I love how Paimon is like "Someone might die but most importantly my piercing is going to be destroyed :("

Amazing priorities bby, I support you.

Also, Astaroth is interested in how the piercing works and its explosive properties so he wants to tag along (he's so weird i love him) And Leraye with his cheery self is happy to help. So he goes to the window to start his search with those amazing eyeballs of his and his hair is blowing in the wind (imagine bouncy music in the background, his hair flowing and him humming while trying to find it)

Paimon is over here thirsting over watching him and it really fuels my "Paimon probably flirts with the nobles from time to time but he's never serious about it"

So within moments, he says he has a lead but hasn't really found it yet so the three go out looking around and well, so far not so good. This is pretty much the third time Leraye had moved positions and and updated on the status of finding the piercing and Paimon is getting a bit impatient.

You see that little pouty angry face? This event isn't voiced but I can hear him now getting all upset. But tbh I get upset too when I'm trying to find something and it's always "almost, maybe the next place it will be there"

Thanks Astaroth, really helping out here lmao

So it appears that even though he was circliing around alot he finally appears to have a lock in on the piercing's whereabouts which excites Paimon. Astraoth starts being poetic about Leraye's rooftop running and Paimon is just like-

You heard him! Stfu and get your ass movin' Roro!!! (I love how Paimon is super agitated easily when it comes to something he cares about lol)

I threw this scene in here because I was like "ah yes the devil with the good eyes I wish that were me lmao"

okay so pitt stop...because even though he's not known for his endurance he surely wasn't having a problem during his h-scene so....( ͡° ͜ʖ├┬┴┬┴

So when he's catching his breath Paimon and Astaroth catch up whose pretty much questioning how Leraye can even see this far ahead and it sounds like they traveled pretty damn far. (remember it's a flashback so Astaroth didn't know about his abilities yet)

And then out of fucking nowhere Leraye just goes to this random hole in the alleyway and throws something at Astaroth while Paimon is like omfg watch out???!!!

So we find out that it was Astaroth's snake that was in that hole just hiding out. So i noticed his name is Apophis and the described him as white but he's clearly black .-. ANYWAY.

(don't worry everyone he was just coming back from filming his role in Meg the Stallion's music video /j lol) So apparently Apophis was lost and Roro was looking for him but weren't they looking for Paimon's piercing?

Lol Apophis bites Leraye and possibly others when Astaroth isn't around and that's cute. Ofc he'd only trust his owner.

And ofc we find out that the snake has swallowed Paimon's piercing...and I'm just like. Oh yikes...so how are we getting this out? lol

So for this little scene Leraye explains plainly that he can see the shape of the piercing inside Apophis' stomach and yet the other two can't and that Leraye just assumes they can because he's naive in his thinking just like most devils, a childlike wonder and view.

And while Astaroth is reflecting on that Paimon asks for him to get the earring out which again I'm like how is he even going to do that???

┬┴┬┴┤•ᴥ•ʔ├┬┴┬┴ oh.....

he can make his voice deeper?

Me too Apophis...me too. I'm shaking, crying and throwing up.

Because think about that shit...Astaroth coming into your room to just randomly corrupt and fuck with you and even if you are corrupt he has a thing for making it even worse...and then he pulls this poetic, deep-voiced nsfw audio shit on you and now you're committing crimes you never even knew you could because of it.

BUT that stops for now with part 1, phew...only 5 more to go...! (i'm really sleepy rn so I'm going to get a couple hours of sleep and then get up and start back up again lol)

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb leraye #whb astaroth #whb paimon #whb gehenna bois❤️#whb event #whb spoilers #whb screencaps #let's goooooo noble event!

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anto-pops · 1 year

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Atonement PART 2 - Dark!Sebastian Sallow x Female!Reader

Summary: "Love has within it a redemptive power. And there is a power there that eventually transforms individuals. Just keep being friendly to that person. Just keep loving them, and they can't stand it too long. Oh, they react in many ways in the beginning. They react with guilt feelings, and sometimes they'll hate you a little more at that transition period, but just keep loving them. And by the power of your love they will break down under the load. That's love, you see. It is redemptive."

Word Count: 7.8k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, hurt/comfort, explicit sexual content, rough sex

This ended up being 8 pages of straight sin, I refused to let the make-up sex be short so SORRY if it's a lot of horny word babble LMAO

As always, the full fic can be found here on Ao3! Part 1 of Atonement can also be found here on Tumblr

The Clagmar Coast was brutally cold.

You’d apparated yourself and Sebastian to a secluded cove nestled between the rocky mountains and the shoreline. It was far from the main roads the village folk used to travel this way, giving you a modicum of privacy that you planned to make good on for the night. Trudging through the chilled, wet sand towards a dilapidated cabin, Sebastian shuddered against the piercing breeze.

“That pile of wood won’t do shit– we’ll freeze to death before morning.”

Biting back a snide comment of your own, you rolled your eyes instead. “It’s just an illusionment charm. See?”

Sebastian followed the line of your pointed finger and spotted a shimmering glow emanating a foot away from the door. He had to focus hard to see it, but now that he knew what he was looking for, it was easier to pinpoint the blurred movement of the spell, as though it were swaying in sync with the breeze.

“Exactly how much prep work went into this scheme of yours?” Sebastian asked, amusement coloring his tone as he glanced at you.

You deflected the veiled compliment with a shrug and kept your eyes trained on the cabin, increasing your pace to escape the icy wind and the feeling of his eyes on you. “Enough to get us this far. There’s bags inside already packed with some essentials, and extra clothes you can change into. I’ll need to double check a few things before we leave in the morning but feel free to get some sleep– I’m sure you’re tired after today.”

Sebastian frowned as you strode ahead, fixing his narrowed eyes on the back of your head as you disappeared through the shimmering veil of magic. He quickly followed suit, emerging on the other side to find a wholly intact cabin with warm firelight spilling through the open doorway. You were already inside, rummaging around in a desk for Merlin knows what to occupy yourself in favor of talking.

What the hell was your problem?

“Can I help you with anything? Maybe a fresh set of eyes will–”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off hurriedly as you rose from your crouched spot behind the thick oak table. “I mean– I’ll take care of it, thank you. It’s okay, really. Go get cleaned up, I’m sure you’re itching to ditch the prison uniform.”

He was still rubbed the wrong way by your sudden change in behavior, but he allowed himself a quick look down at the tattered fabric clinging to his scraggly form. You had a point. “Fine. Where are the extra clothes?”

You ignored the bite in his tone, fixing your eyes over his shoulder as you pointed him down the hallway to the bedroom. “In there. The washroom is on the right, and there should be soap in one of the bags. Take whatever you need.”

Without another word in your direction, Sebastian strode down the hallway and disappeared into the room, letting the door dramatically slam shut behind him hard enough to shake the walls. You didn’t have it in you to be bugged by it though. Instead you sighed, deflating against the surface of the desk while your heart hammered away in your chest.

Why was it suddenly so difficult to be near him? After months of planning and a never ending slew of sleepless nights, he was finally with you again, so why were you abruptly shutting yourself down in his presence?

Maybe it was because having him back made the last two years real. Seeing him in the flesh validated every terrible thought that had haunted your mind until now; that he wasn’t the same, that he was a broken man, and that deep down he probably hated you for what you had done to him. Sure, you’d saved him, but anyone would be grateful to make it out of a situation like that alive. The kiss meant nothing. It was simply a ‘thank you’ that you didn’t deserve.

These thoughts were getting you nowhere.

With a resolute sigh, you walked around the desk to collapse in a creaky chair, pinching the bridge of your nose before you started unraveling the map Ominis had given you months ago. It was covered in your messy scrawl, stray blots of ink staining the corners and betraying just how much time you’d actually spent slaving over your desperate plan.

The time passed in silence as you cross referenced the routes you’d charted leading from the coast to your next destination. Since there had been no way to know how rescuing Sebastian would go, the last leg of your journey was relatively unmapped. All you knew for certain was that staying in England was out of the question.

Scotland was far too close for comfort to consider any longer, so you axed it from your mind. France was promising, but also just a stone's throw away from London should the Ministry choose to expand their inevitable search. At the very least you could attempt to travel to one of the ports in the southern region to get farther away on a ship, but that still left the question of where the two of you would go unanswered.

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, your thoughts pulling you in a million different directions while the quill in your grip failed to obey. The fire crackling across the room was all you could hear, but your nerves had you on edge. More Ministry officials could appear at any moment, and while you were fairly certain you hadn’t been followed, your experiences in life thus far had taught you to expect the worst and hope for the best.

The feathered pen hung limp in your fingers as you shoved the heels of your palms into your eyes hard enough to see shapes, and you swore softly under your breath. But then the sudden feeling of a warm, calloused hand ghosting down your neck had you releasing the quill and jumping back in your seat, your wide eyes flying to Sebastian’s as he yanked his arm away. His hair was still wet from his bath, the dripping strands soaking through the fabric of the borrowed, black button down he wore. Your heart hammered in your ears as you took in his appearance. Despite the more slender frame he now bore, the clothes didn’t swallow him up, instead accentuating his long legs and lithely muscled biceps. His long fingers curled into fists at his side, and you observed as his entire upper half tensed up uncomfortably.

“Are you afraid of me?”

The question pulled your attention from Sebastian’s body back to his stormy expression, and your stomach flipped. He looked angry. More than that, he sounded almost… offended.

“Of course not,” you answered quickly and glanced back at the map. “You just startled me– I didn’t hear you leave the bedroom.”

His frown deepened, seemingly darkening the rings under his eyes in a way that conveyed he didn’t believe you in the slightest. “Then can you look at me when you speak to me?”

That commanding tenor in his voice made the hair on your arms stand on end, and you suppressed a shudder. This version of Sebastian was relatively new to you– he had never spoken to you with such a domineering timbre before, and you found yourself heeding his request. When your eyes met his, he seemed to relax a fraction of an inch, moving to perch on the edge of the desk so he wasn’t towering over you like an imposing statue.

“Why is it so hard for you to be near me?” He asked quietly, his eyes jumping between yours as if he could find the answer hidden somewhere in your gaze. “Why does staring at me make you look like you’re going to be sick? Am I really that far gone in your mind?”

It was like a punch to the gut, hearing him imply that you were unnerved by his presence. Your brows drew together, and you instinctively sat forward in your chair to lean closer to him. “No, Sebastian, never. I could never think that of you– I’m sorry…” You trailed off and hung your head sadly, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. “The truth is I look at you and I feel guilty. Nothing I say or do can take away the last two years, and I don’t even know where to begin to make things right.”

“I mean, killing two Aurors was a pretty good place to start,” he chuckled darkly, shaking his head as though in disbelief. “If you feel so terrible about it, why did you turn me in? Surely you’ve done worse, what with your abilities and all that. Me killing Solomon should have been a minuscule blip on your moral compass.”

You scowled, blinking back the fat tears that threatened to spill forth. “I’m not scared now, but I was back then. You were unrecognizable, Sebastian, it was like you were possessed– and when all was said and done you just… disappeared for days. I had to fight Ranrok by myself, Fig died, and then I single handedly uprooted a five hundred year old secret and undid all of the Keepers’ work because despite everything you had done, a part of me still wanted to– I wanted to–”

The tears finally came, a choked sob ripping its way from your throat, and you buried your head in your hands to hide your face in shame. You heard papers shuffling as Sebastian angled himself to face you better, and when he lifted his hand as though to touch your shoulder, he stopped himself at the last second. It curled into a limp fist that fell against the desk.

His voice was much softer when he finally asked, “Wanted what? And what did you do?”

Sebastian was desperate to know what you were thinking. The need to understand your mentality and find out what you meant in regards to the Keepers was overwhelming; he remembered the pensive memory he’d viewed with you before everything fell apart, and how Isidora Morganach had harnessed the ability to remove a person’s pain. Was that what you were talking about?

Lifting your head, you fixed your swollen eyes on his hand in front of you. You decided it was easier to admit what you’d done if you couldn’t see his penetrating gaze boring down on you. “I still wanted to help you. I wanted to help Anne for you. So I took the power from the Repository– the same magic the Keepers made me swear to protect– I stole it and never went back to the Map Chamber. I assume they must know by now what I did, but it was easier to just avoid them after everything.”

Everything was starting to click into place. Your potent aura outside of King’s Cross Station made a lot more sense with the added knowledge that Isidora’s magic was now in fact yours, living and flowing within you. It had felt shockingly volatile, so at odds with the underlying warm, ancient magic you’d wielded since your fifth year. The combined energies had been like a vortex of light and dark, cutting and soothing the air simultaneously as you’d killed William without hesitation.

All for him?

Sebastian’s heartbeat kicked up in his chest as he finally let himself reach for you, and this time you didn’t leap away from his touch, instead letting him cradle your clasped, trembling hands in his own. His firm hold imbued you with the strength to look up at him, and when he saw the tearful glimmer in your eyes, Sebastian knew then that he had already forgiven you for turning him in. Even before seeing how raw your guilt had left you, he’d always known he would return to you. It was what had fueled his attempt at escaping Azkaban in the first place; the chance to see you again, and to apologize for ever taking you for granted.

“I’m so sorry, darling,” he brought your hands to his lips and murmured the apology against your knuckles, his breath ghosting over your skin causing you to shiver. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I should have known better than to keep pushing you and Ominis the way I did– and when I asked you for help with Anne, I never meant for you to do something you didn’t want to do– least of all something that would change who you are.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, turning your palms over so that you could intertwine your fingers with Sebastian’s much longer ones. It didn’t escape your attention how perfectly your hands still fit together. “I wanted to. You didn’t make me do anything, and while the side effects are ever… evolving, I’m still me. Just a bit more prone to violence, I suppose.”

He cocked his head to the side in interest. You hadn’t previously been one to start fights. During his time at school with you, it was often you mediating altercations and trying to break up arguments before things could escalate. At least, where Sebastian was concerned, you did. “Oh? So that marionette move you pulled on Singer earlier was entirely of your own volition?”

A sliver of trepidation coursed through him when your expression changed, morphing into a remorseless sneer that he didn’t recognize. “Yes. He was going to kill you.”

Nodding slowly, Sebastian allowed his next quip to die on his tongue in favor of tracing small circles on the back of your hand. He wasn’t sure what to say. As much as he knew you wanted to believe Azkaban had changed him drastically, the situation seemed to be the exact opposite. It was you who had gone through something of a rebirth, and it piqued Sebastian’s interest to no end.

What else about you had changed?

In a bid to switch topics, you pulled your hands away from Sebastian’s to rifle through the desk drawer. He watched you curiously as you found what you were looking for, and you tentatively pulled out his wand. The familiar checkered handle caught his attention instantaneously, and his bark of laughter was ripe with pleasant surprise. Your heart leapt at the sound, and you smiled in spite of yourself.

His fingers curled around the base slowly, as though he were in disbelief of the thin bit of wood. “You kept it? I thought the Ministry took it for good after I was arrested.”

“Mm, technically they did. Ominis gave it to me a few months ago when I asked him to help me track you down. I was just as surprised when he handed it over, but I think he believed I’d find you in time. He wanted you to get it back.”

Sebastian’s mouth opened and shut a few times as he took in your words, a fondness sweeping over his features. “Ominis helped you break me out?”

You nodded once, then paused as you reconsidered his role in everything. “Well, sort of. He gave me information about your transfer to London a few months ago. I asked him if he wanted to come with us once I found you, but he wanted to stay in case the Ministry started pestering Anne about your escape–”

“Anne is alive?” He cut you off in a hushed whisper, and his next few breaths seemed to shake his entire body. “How?”

You swallowed, “Isidora’s spell. The same one she used on her father— only I altered it. I can take a person’s pain but leave their soul untouched. She’s more comfortable now, at the very least, but her curse is as much a part of her as my ancient magic is a part of me. I can’t completely cure her of it, not without stripping her completely of what makes her whole. She has more time though, and it’s pain free.”

You watched his face with rapt interest, searching his expression for any signs of anger or disappointment, but to your surprise the crease between Sebastian’s brows vanished, and he looked wholly content. When he didn’t immediately say anything, you pressed him, “What are you thinking?”

Sebastian lifted his wandless hand to cradle the back of your neck, pulling your face closer to his until your foreheads were pressed together. He smelled strongly of the lavender soaps you’d packed, but underneath it was his own heady scent of cedar, and something akin to pine needles. You shamelessly sucked in a breath, and you felt his hold on the nape of your neck tighten a fraction.

“Thank you,” his dark eyes were trained solely on you, and the close proximity made your head spin, your eyes darting down to his lips momentarily. “You have no idea what it means to hear you say that. I fully expected her to… not be around, in the event I ever made it out. More time is fine– it’s perfect, even. I only ever wanted for her to be able to live the way she wanted, and it sounds like she can now thanks to you.”

Reaching up to wrap your fingers around his forearms, you flashed him a watery smile. “I really am sorry, Sebastian. For everything. If I could go back and change things I would– I should never have let the Ministry take you away–”

“Stop apologizing,” he implored you, his eyes dropping to your lips. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He couldn’t be more wrong. “I have everything to be sorry for.”

“Hardly. I’m here now, aren’t I?” His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and the sight had your stomach churning expectantly.

“You are.”

“I thought about you all the time while I was there, you know.” Sebastian set his wand down on the desk to lightly grip your chin, tilting your face up to meet his hungry gaze. “Sometimes I would lose myself in my own head for days thinking about you. I missed you… I missed us.”

The minuscule distance between the two of you was driving any coherent thoughts from your mind. Suddenly all you could focus on was Sebastian’s thumb dragging over your bottom lip, and the glimmer of arousal that was growing steadily behind his full, dark lashes. You gave yourself a moment to appreciate it all; his hand on the back of your neck, the pure want reflected in his eyes, and the tantalizing feeling of simply being near him after two long, painstaking years.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Sebastian whispered the promise against your parted lips. “I need to know that you’re alright with whatever happens after, because if I deny myself of you any longer, I can’t say that I’ll be able to hold myself back.”

His husky tone had you clenching your knees together under the desk, the visceral need for your baser urges to be satiated taking root in your gut. This was real– he forgave you, and he still wanted you, even after everything you had inadvertently put him through.

The realization broke down the rest of your barriers, leading you to nod in his firm hold, and before you knew it Sebastian had captured your lips in a deep, sensual kiss. His hand on the back of your neck held you fast to his mouth as he released your chin, sweeping his legs over the desk so the long appendages trapped you between them, and when you heard miscellaneous items get knocked to the ground in the process, you barely reacted.

Sebastian was leaning over you completely, your head angled up in a way that left you entirely at his mercy as he ran his thumbs along your jaw and probed his tongue into your mouth. You sighed against him, bringing your hands up to rest on his thighs for better leverage, and when your nails dug into the fabric of his dark trousers, you felt him jolt with a throaty groan.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me,” Sebastian uttered in between kisses, and you boldly began trailing your palms up towards the growing bulge between his legs. Winding his fingers in the hair at the base of your neck, he tugged you away from his face to fix you with a heated look. “When I wasn’t thinking about you, I was dreaming about you. I imagined this happening in so many different ways– I never stopped fantasizing about the pretty sounds you would make, or how you would look falling apart under me.”

Your hands finally came to rest on his trapped erection, and the generous squeeze you gave him had him pinching his eyes shut in an effort to keep from bucking into your touch. “Show me,” you begged. “Please, Sebastian, show me everything, I missed you.”

Sebastian released you for a mere moment to slide off the desk completely, and then his hands were back on you, swiftly tugging you out of your chair by the scruff of your shirt to slam your back against the wall behind you. Then he was kissing you again, swallowing up your startled gasp as he roughly wedged his knee between your legs to hold you upright. When Sebastian broke away to trail his teeth down your jaw and along the sensitive skin of your throat, he rolled his hips against you, relishing in the wanton moan the friction pulled from your lips.

His hands began slowly and methodically undoing the buttons of your top, taking his time as he lightly nipped at your pulse once, twice, before finally latching his lips around the skin to work a proprietary bruise into your flesh. There was nothing gentle about it– especially once he moved his mouth lower to the hollow of your throat, licking along your collarbone before biting into the tender curve of your shoulder.

“Fuck!” Your raspy cry shot straight to Sebastian’s cock, and you felt it strain against your hip through the restrictive material of his pants. “S-Sebastian, please–”

“You sound damn good, darling,” he mouthed wetly against the bite, pressing a chaste kiss there to soothe the throbbing ache. “I’d be an idiot to not take my time with you. Let a newly freed man enjoy himself, would you?”

While you understood his sentiment, the heat pooling in your gut was a very legitimate threat. Between his breath ghosting over your wet, marked skin, and the incessant movement of his knee pressed against your core, your composure was quickly slipping. It had been a long time since you’d actually been intimate with someone, but beyond that, you hadn’t so much as touched yourself in months.

You melted against the wall under Sebastian’s persistent attention, mewling softly when he undid the last button on your shirt to immediately begin kneading your breasts. The chill of the cabin swept over you for all of a second before you felt him take one of your pert nipples between his fingers to twist it gently, and then a hot flush was creeping down your bare chest. You writhed in his hold at the feeling, your hands flying up to claw at his neck when he shamelessly branded you under your jaw, and your shallow panting made Sebastian’s head spin with barely contained need– he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out his teasing for very long.

“Merlin, you’re so fucking sensitive. How long have you been waiting to have me touch you like this, hm?”

Sebastian let go of your breasts to remove your arms from around him, but before you could voice your displeasure, he had pinned your wrists overhead with one hand against the wall, graciously sweeping his eyes down your exposed front. His free hand came up to cradle your jaw, gently angling your face to the side so he could take in his handy work. The bright, fresh hickeys that now lined the column of your throat catered deeply to the primitive part of him that demanded he stake his claim on you any way he could.

You watched as Sebastian ate you alive with his eyes, his hooded gaze darkening immeasurably further when you shifted so that his knee was nestled right where you wanted it, dragging a soft exhale from your kiss-swollen lips, and fuck– his fantasies couldn’t hold a damn candle to the real thing.

With a rough growl, Sebastian pulled your arms off the wall and hauled you against his chest, and you had the good grace to wrap your trembling legs around his slender waist to aid him in carrying you from the living room. His fingers dug into the small of your back when he kicked the door to the bedroom open, tenderly kissing your temple right before he was tossing you down on the sheets.

“You’re wearing way too much clothing for my liking,” you groused up at him, eyeing at how he palmed himself through the tenting fabric between his legs.

He flashed you a smirk, dragging his hand up to the catch of his pants before he hummed, “Mm, guess it would be a shame to soil my new wardrobe.”

“Wait–” you sat up and scrambled to the edge of the mattress, placing your hands over his to halt him in place. “Let me.”

Sebastian’s vision flashed white when you peered up at him through your lashes, his cock making its interest in that option very apparent. He swallowed and nodded, pulling his hands away to let you undress him. Unlike him, you didn’t waste any time; your nimble fingers slipped under the waistband of both his trousers and briefs, and then you were tugging both sets of attire down his thighs. You let him help by shucking everything away so he could step out of the material freely, and then you were openly taking in the sight of his impressive length.

Sebastian was big– moreover, he was completely hard, the swollen head of his glistening cock already leaking small beads of precum. You hummed pensively, considering the task before you as you took him in your fist and gave him a good, firm stroke, with a fucking perfect twist around the head that drew a moan from him that he had no chance of biting back. The sound imbued you with renewed confidence, watching him with heated eyes as you gently angled the head against your soft, plush lips.

When you began pressing featherlight kisses to the tip, Sebastian couldn’t stop himself from shivering. You smiled at the feeling as you dragged your mouth slowly down the side of his shaft, using your hands to rub and stroke him in the areas you overlooked as you savored the taste of him on your tongue.

It was taking every drop of willpower in Sebastian’s body not to grab your hair and start fucking your face, but he forced himself to keep his hands at his side and enjoy the sensation of you mouthing wetly against him. The sight of you on your knees in front of him, eagerly hunching forward to grasp as much of him as you could in your smaller hands, made the self-restraint worth it.

When your tongue came to flick at his soaked slit, Sebastian twitched, and then your mouth was sealing over the sensitive head and you were sucking, wet and messy and so fucking perfect, and Sebastian’s head tipped back, breathing a series of broken little whimpers into the empty air.

“Fuck,” he managed to grit through clenched teeth, his stomach tensing beneath his shirt. “Fuck, darling, fucking hell–”

You sucked him down further, flattening your tongue to press deliciously to the underside of his length at the same time you hummed, and Sebastian choked out a stuttered moan as his hands finally flew to your hair. The sharp sting made you wince slightly, but you relished in the scrape of his nails along your scalp, and then you were letting him pull you further onto his cock until the head hit the back of your throat.

There was no helping your strangled, choking sound, but you fought through the urge to pull away, instead swallowing around him, and Sebastian swore nothing born of this Earth could possibly be this amazing.

His mind was spinning in fucking circles as you let him thrust into your warm, inviting mouth for as long as you were able to take it. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you felt them run down your cheeks to intermingle with your spit-slick mouth. The growing ache between your legs was bordering on unbearable at this point, and you shamelessly dropped one of your hands to your clothed cunt to press against yourself through the fabric.

Sebastian groaned at the sight of you touching yourself with his cock spearing into your mouth, and when you lifted your eyes to stare up at him from way down below, he nearly came then and there from your appearance.

In a flash, Sebastian was pulling you off of him with a strangled grunt, thick strands of spit and pre-cum sinfully dangling between your lips and his throbbing member. “Fuck– f-feels too damn good– I don’t want to finish yet.”

Your chest heaved as you greedily sucked down gulps of air, gazing up at Sebastian through hooded, fucked-out eyes that brought him to his knees before you to slip your unbuttoned shirt over the bruised curve of your shoulders. It fell away, leaving your upper half completely exposed to him now, and he hungrily traced his hands down the supple rise of your breasts before pushing you back against the covers.

When Sebastian tugged your pants away, he may as well have ripped them off with the intensity he exhibited. You were flushing darkly from your head all the way to your toes– all that separated you from him now was your thin cotton underwear, but not for long. Those long, freckled fingers had looped under the material, coyly dragging it down your goosebump riddled thighs before slipping it over your feet and tossing it over his shoulder.

Sebastian stood to his full height to begin unbuttoning his own shirt, and the dark material contrasted beautifully against his pale complexion. As the buttons fell away, you got your first glimpse of his bare chest since reuniting with him, only to discover there were raised, jagged scars that ran across his pecs and along his ribs. Your brows slammed down and your stomach dropped at the sight, and Sebastian paused as he took in your reaction to the markings.

“What happened?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but the hoarseness to it was apparent.

Following the strained bob of his adam’s apple, you watched as he continued to remove his top with a sureness that, at the very least, told you he wasn’t in any pain. “There’s plenty of other things to watch out for in Azkaban, not just the Dementors,” he replied vaguely with a shockingly unbothered tone.

Despite his casual demeanor and the nonchalant way he continued to strip himself down to nothing, you couldn’t fight the rising wave of guilt that threatened to pull you under. It was another reminder of what you’d done to him–

“Stop it.”

Your eyes jumped from his chest back to his dark gaze, and he was shaking his head at you in a scolding manner. “I can see exactly what you’re thinking, and this isn’t your fault. Don’t even try apologizing again.”

Your mouth opened and closed fitfully, the words you wanted to say dying on your tongue before you could voice them, and you sighed. But then Sebastian was shrugging his shirt off his shoulders, letting the material flutter to the floor unceremoniously before he began to crawl towards you, caging your body beneath his own. With him laying on top of you this way, his long legs draped lazily in between yours, you were able to ground yourself a bit more and shake the negativity from your mind.

Maybe he didn’t want you saying sorry, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t still show him how apologetic you were. Your hands flew to his cheeks, pulling his lips to yours with a tenacity that rivaled the strength of a Graphorn. Sebastian let you, shamelessly enjoying the mixed taste of himself on your sweet lips until the urge to move was overwhelming him, and he shifted in his spot between your sprawled legs to grind his achingly hard shaft between your soaked folds.

You moaned into his mouth, utterly adoring the friction his movements provided your neglected cunt, and you began tracing up his lithely muscled shoulders, ghosting your touch down his back where you felt the angular curve of his shoulder blades and more raised scars beneath your fingertips.

Sebastian kept himself supported on the arm draped beside your head, playing with the unruly strands of your hair until you were mewling and sighing against his lips, and then his other hand was trailing down to your slick heat to swipe through the wetness pooling there.

He chuckled darkly as you rocked your hips into his hand with a needy whine, your nails digging into the skin of his back. “Mm, Sebastian–”

“Want something, darling?”

You were breathless as he probed your entrance with one of his slender digits, then tensing and writhing under him when he pulled his finger away tauntingly. “Fucking– yes, please. T-touch me, please.”

The way he cocked his head to the side with that smug look on his face made your head spin with indignant need. “But I am touching you. I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

As though to punctuate the claim, he trailed his hand higher, pressing down on your bundle of nerves in a way that had you damn near bucking up to chase his touch. A keening sound resonated from your chest, and if looks could kill, Sebastian would have dropped dead on top of you in an instant from your icy glare.

Your voice trembled with barely contained need as you begged, “I want your fingers inside of me. I want your cock inside of me– please, I can’t wait anymore Sebastian, please fuck me–”

Sebastian cut you off with the sudden thrust of a finger breaching your walls, and your head kicked back with a sharp cry of his name as he began steadily working the appendage deeper, willing you to relax for him. He found a steady pace, pumping into you easily as you melted under his attention, your hips writhing back for more after a few heated seconds.

Obliging you with a second finger, Sebastian sealed his mouth over a random patch of skin above your breast, the salt of your skin clinging to his lips as he started to nibble and suck in a bid to gently mark you further. He kept your tight heat spread open as you arched and shuddered beneath him, and as nice as the image was, what was really getting to him were the gorgeous sounds falling from your swollen lips.

After two years without hearing it, Sebastian decidedly had a thing for your voice, but knowing how it sounded when it was hitched and raspy, forming shaky, insistent moans of his name… shit. Sebastian groaned softly, nipping at the blossoming hickey on your chest before he was curling his fingers up and firmly pressing the pad of his thumb against your clit so deliciously, it left you breathless.

The effect his efforts have on you were incredible. Your hips were arching off the bed, head thrown back into the pillows with a choked moan, and Sebastian followed you easily despite all of your brainless writhing.

“F-fuck, fuck, Sebastian,” you whined, your voice loud and spectacular, especially with the way it shook as you seemingly got closer to losing it. All you could do was cling to Sebastian, both hands clutching desperately at his shoulders, his neck, and then your fingers were tangling in his long hair so aggressively, the sting had his cock twitching against your leg.

You were positively wrecked already– gorgeously so– with your eyes glazed and unfocused, your lips parting freely around lyrical moans and mindless praises alike, and your cries of his name came more and more frequently as he curled and pressed his fingers within you. His patience was beginning to run out, though, as his painfully stiff cock continued to rut shamelessly against your thigh.

“What do you think, darling? Are you ready for me?”

Your eyes cracked open slightly, forcing a few deep, rattling breaths into your lungs as Sebastian lessened his ministrations against your core. You’d been so caught up in the building euphoria of your orgasm that you had completely forgotten it wasn’t even his cock making you crumble apart. “Y-Yeah. Been ready since you threw me against the wall…”

Sebastian chuckled at that, rewarding you with a deep, sensual kiss that made your toes curl. He peppered light kisses to the array of bruises he had worked into your skin thus far before sitting back on his heels, withdrawing his fingers from your pulsing heat. You whined softly at the loss, but then you felt Sebastian’s hands curl around your thighs to haul you down the covers so you were flush to his hips, and the luxurious feeling of him rubbing against your slick arousal was enough to have you wriggling back for more.

You were boneless in Sebastian’s hands as he looped his arms under your knees, angling your legs over his shoulders so that he could see all of you as he lined himself up with your entrance. A thrill of excitement sparked through you at the more insistent presses of the brunet’s incredibly solid cock against you. The first firm roll of Sebastian’s hips pulled shaky gasps from both of you as the thick head breached your walls, slick and tight and warm, and Sebastian couldn’t help the breathless moan of your name that fell from his lips then.

“Fuck, you feel amazing, darling– Merlin– you’re so warm, shit.” He leaned forward to plunge himself further into you, taking care to grind slowly after each small, shallow thrust. Your shaky breaths filled the space between the two of you as Sebastian rocked his hips steadily against your ass, everything he had done to prepare you paying off in the form of you taking his cock perfectly, letting him slide deeper with every short plunge of his hips.

Sebastian kept up his patient, easy rhythm, sliding his hands along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs to simultaneously tease you and hold you more firmly in place. You let out a long, whimpering moan, your eyes squeezing shut as Sebastian finally bottomed out, and you savored in the marvelous feeling of being filled by him.

“How’s it feel, love?” Sebastian asked quietly, lowering his head a bit more to nudge his nose against your sweat-slick forehead. The kiss he pressed there soothed you further, and the way you sighed and melted further was proof enough that Sebastian was doing well. “Is it too much?”

“Fuck no,” you groaned, your voice breaking slightly, but you were way too scatter-brained to care. You were completely enveloped by Sebastian in the best possible ways, the initial sting of the thick stretch vanishing entirely with his gentle grinding. “Gods, Sebastian,” you gasped, your lashes fluttering open to make dazed eye contact with your freckled lover. “You’re so big, f-feels so good…”

Sebastian groaned, mouthing wetly against the smooth curve of your knee draped over his shoulder, and when he sank his teeth into the sensitive flesh there, you responded with a keening moan from low in your throat.

He wasn’t pulling out far before he was smoothly rolling his hips back in, setting an achingly slow pace to start with. The way you felt around him was euphoric, your body quaking in time to Sebastian’s steady, languid thrusts. His bruising grip on your thighs had you panting and squirming back against his cock, musing your hair wildly beneath you, and your hands fisted in the covers in a bid to find purchase.

“You’re perfect,” Sebastian moaned his praises into the crook of your leg, increasing the intensity of his thrusts when he felt you arching towards him, the head of his cock brushing deeper and harder. “You’re so fucking perfect– I love you, darling– I never stopped loving you.”

Your denied release from earlier came roaring to life in the pit of your gut as you felt Sebastian’s cock graze over your sweet spot, wanton moans spilling from your lips as you clawed at the sheets and gasped breathlessly. “Sebastian– fuck, I l-love you, I love you so much–” His hips snapped against your ass sharply at your mindless confession, and your lips parted around a pleading cry for more, overwhelmed tears pricking at your clenched eyes as Sebastian obliged you.

With a throaty growl, Sebastian released your legs from his ironclad grip, letting them fall limply against the bed so he could lower himself to snake his arms around your waist and arch you towards him, ramming his cock into you with blinding precision that made you wail his name shamelessly.

“S-Sebastian, please, please– just like that–” you ground your hips back onto your lover, thighs trembling from how good Sebastian fucked you, filling you up deep and rough and just right. The way he dug his fingers into the skin of your waist to slam you back down into his relentless thrusts only served to add fuel to the growing fire in your core, leaving you a sloppy, gasping, pleading mess underneath him.

The two of you were holding on by barely there threads, your looming orgasms building, and you knew Sebastian was close when he buried his head in the crook of your shoulder to pant loudly against your skin. Your arms flew around his neck, clinging to him desperately as you rutted against him, wordlessly urging him to take what he wanted– to finally let go.

Sebastian came with a brutal cry of your name, his rough pumping transforming into sensual, deep grinding, and he hurriedly brought one of his hands to your clit to rub tight, demanding circles against you. The combined feeling of his cock emptying inside of you and the perfect stimulation from his fingers brought you clean over the edge with him, your nails sinking into his skin and leaving angry welts in their wake as you sobbed in ecstasy.

Thoroughly spent, the two of you stayed intertwined for what seemed like hours, but realistically couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes. Sebastian continued to slowly rock his hips into you long after the two of you had come down, until your overstimulated twitches and moans prompted him to gently slide out of your dripping folds, swallowing thickly when he lifted his head to rake over your prone form.

Your half-hooded gaze fixed on Sebastian as he tenderly trailed his hands up over your breasts, ghosting over the trail of love-bites and scratches that now decorated your sternum. His thumb swept up the vulnerable apex of your throat to angle your flushed lips towards his mouth. The kiss held a thousand promises that neither one of you cared to voice in the moment, and you let him nudge you up towards the headboard before he gathered you securely in his arms.

“Thank you.” Sebastian whispered into the top of your head after a few minutes of pleasant silence. You were tucked comfortably against his chest, his arm wrapped around you as he traced tiny shapes and patterns along the curve of your spine. You had been lightly trailing your fingers over the plethora of scars that lined his chest, committing the feeling of each one to memory, but his words made you pause.

“I can’t say I’ve ever been thanked for sex before,” you murmured against his side, and your head jostled when he laughed softly.

“Don’t be stupid– although, yes, definitely thank you for the sex. But I meant ‘thank you’ for everything else.”

Your lips pressed into a hard line, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light hearted when you replied. “Don’t go thanking me too soon. We haven’t even made it out of Ministry territory yet– ow!”

You flinched away from his pinching fingers against your back, the sharp sting throbbing to life– and though it wasn’t a severe pain in the slightest, you craned your head back to glare at him.

His dark eyes sparkled with amusement and an underlying fondness that instantly cooled your temper. “Is it so hard for you to just say ‘you’re welcome, Sebastian’ and kiss me?”

The laugh that bubbled from your throat was like music to Sebastian’s ears, and he realized dimly that it was the first time he had heard it in over two years. He never wanted to stop hearing it, and he vowed to himself then that he would spend every day of the rest of his life trying to make you feel that kind of joy.

“Is that it? If that’s all you wanted, you only needed to ask.”

Sebastian tugged you closer, lazily sweeping his broad hand over the small of your back to press you into him as his lips captured yours in a dizzying kiss. It melted away your lingering tension, and you ran your fingers through his disheveled hair, pushing the overgrown locs out of his face delicately. The fodness in the action had him sighing against your lips, and nothing in this lifetime would ever compare to this moment here with you.

“I love you,” he said, and you cracked your eyes open to see him staring at you with a deeply profound expression. “I meant what I said earlier– I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.”

Warmth blossomed in your chest, and you managed to flash him a watery smile before sappy tears were running down your cheeks despite your best efforts. “Me too. I’ve always loved you, Sebastian, and I always will. For as long as you’ll have me.”

“How’s forever sound? I have no plans to leave your side anytime soon. That should give us plenty of time to figure out what comes next.”

He stole your lips again, never breaking away as he rolled himself over to cage you completely beneath his taller frame. It was an impassioned kiss, full of desire and desperation, and all you could do was kiss him back with equal fervor, mirroring his wants.

Any concerns drifted from your minds as the two of you got lost in the newfound versions of yourselves, taking exceptional care throughout the night to commit every new thing about the other to memory. The moment held promise for the future— for what you now knew you could have with Sebastian, and you swore to yourself then that you would fight with everything in you to protect this second chance. The Ministry would have to pry Sebastian from your cold, dead hands.

No matter what was to come, your heart felt lighter knowing that the two of you would face it together.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x female!reader #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow oneshot #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow #my writing #this shit is so long y'all I'm sorry #if you're gonna read this it's a fucking commitment

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sea-jello · 1 year

Text

train of events + my constant thoughts of lego led to:

ninjago characters in a dodgeball game

of COURSE powers and spinjitzu are allowed. who do you think they are

except for cole. cole is not allowed to use his super strength to throw anything because it will put a hole through something or someone

that being said, tiny tiny earthquakes to throw someone off balance is not off the table

definitely targets jay

you already know kai and jay are competitive as fuck. both in the game and in screaming bloody murder the loudest

i think they would both use some elemental power to charge up the throw, like that short where they’re chopping bricks (i forgot the name lmao)

jay WHIPS the ball like no one else (cause lightning 😎) AND plus the lightning charge up?? bros out for blood

little bit of a sore loser but he forgets about it pretty quickly

kai is such a sore loser let’s be honest now

but if he wins he’s holding it above the others forever

i think he’s got shit aim lmao

in fights he’s so used to making a big ass blast of fire and shooting it in the general direction he doesn’t need to aim

that being said he definitely torches the dodgeballs midair

regardless of if they’re about to hit him or not

zane however has scarily accurate aim, being a nindroid and all

he always hits them on the shoulder

he’s not above freezing the floor and making them slip. you would think he is, but he’s not.

mfs got strategies and scenarios planned out and everything

he is here to WIN

lloyd “it’s just a game guys, lets just have fun” garmadon and lloyd “i will hold a grudge against the person who got me out for the rest of my life” garmadon are ideas that could and absolutely do coexist

i think he’s a bad thrower. like he CAN throw, he’s just not as good as the rest of them

gets people out by catching the ball more than actually hitting them (he’s got practice with catching HANDS)

nya absolutely decimates them

goes easy on jay and is out for kai’s head

jay SAYS he was going easy on her, and in return she nails him in the stomach with a ball

jay is no longer going easy on her

she’s just as much of a sore loser as kai is

wu and garmadon would play something like dodgeball when they were younger

it mostly involved chucking whatever they could find at each other at random times

garmadon called it training. wu called it being childish and petty

catch him throwing cans straight at garmadons head just to hear the hollow “tonk” sound (if they had cans back then lmao)

so there’s really no way to declare a winner

garmadon says he won though

if morro was alive and/or with the ninja he is here to WIN. nothing less.

if he’s still a ghost then he couldn’t really participate

he’s kinda salty about it cause he knows he would absolutely destroy them

at least that’s what he says

if he was alive tho

fucking jukes everyone. breaking ankles left and right

i like to think he’s agile and fast as hell cause wind and everything

contrary to popular belief he doesn’t use the wind to block anything thrown at him

the point of dodgeball is to dodge. if he gets hit, then it’s his failure and incompetence

THROWING with the wind however,, he’s only playing to his strengths, that’s all

he and lloyd definitely target each other. whoever wins, it’s a matter of pride on both sides

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yanderes-galore · 11 months

Note

Oh! How about a platonic/romantic (either is fine) concept for the DBD Entity themselves? Like there's a survivor that the Entity favors over the others and even killers, but nobody knows why? The Entity just really likes this survivor darling for whatever reason lmao

This may not be that long but I am dying to talk about this somehow, lol.

Yandere! The Entity with Survivor! Darling

Short Concept/Idea

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Eldritch entity likes you, Dubious pairing, Violence, Murder.

Honestly I doubt this creature can feel romantic feelings towards a human at all.

At least not in the way humans do.

Although when The Entity likes someone to the point of obsession... your life in the trials is much easier than most.

After all, killers rarely get to touch you without angering The Entity.

For some reason you were picked by The Entity.

Not to suffer... not to kill... you actually have no idea what it wants.

No one does.

Survivors around you get no benefit or boost.

They still suffer the same, meanwhile your pain is either nonexistent or lesser than theirs.

You're confused... if you aren't meant to suffer like the rest, why are you here?

You rarely get to see The Entity except for its claws when it picks up survivors from hooks.

Even if it prefers you it rarely shows you a form.

Although if it did... you could expect The Entity to be spider-like.

It can change its appearance to fit what you prefer but there would probably always be a spider motif.

Its form of affection is not causing you pain.

Most of the time you're not even sent to a trial anymore.

Your world is an endless forest... only the void greets you while The Entity watches on.

It feels like you're in a painless purgatory.

The Entity didn't need to take you.

That's how you felt... after all, it liked to thrive on pain and suffering.

What did it get from forcing you to wander here... endlessly?

The Entity is a hard being to understand.

Its motives are something you'd never be able to grasp.

It's arachnid forms are always disturbing in nature, yet it never seems to hurt you much.

It touches you at times, nothing strange or invasive, it just brushes against you.

It feels like a cold wind against you.

It acts curious... like its testing the waters around you.

The Entity can easily keeps its darling to itself.

It warps the world around you... killers and survivors alike are punished with pain around you...

The Entity knows you can't leave... and you know that too.

Safe to say The Entity is a successful yandere.

There isn't much to say due to this.

It doesn't matter if you hate it, is there anyway to properly reciprocate what it feels towards you?

Do you even know what it feels towards you!?

It doesn't care how you feel towards it.

All it cares about is playing with you and your head by messing with your mind.

It thrives off emotions and experiences.

You can't fight back with it, either.

Even if you were given a weapon, you can't hurt it.

You don't even know if it can be killed.

As with most yandere eldritch beasts, there isn't too much to say.

You'll be held in The Entity's realm against your will.

Sometimes in a trial... sometimes not.

You have more benefits than others, but that doesn't mean you're happy....

You feel so alone in this warping realm at times... you're different than the others...

It truly is just you and The Entity in a world separate from the rest.

#yandere dead by daylight #yandere dbd #yandere the entity #yandere dbd the entity

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

Note

Hi Petri, so I was wondering (cause I know you have many aks) if you could do a Gally x fem! reader where she's with the rebels from death cure, and she's one of the people who find him almost dying in that room after the maze. She's super nice but can put up with his awful attitude, he hates being taken care of cause he feels remorse about what he did to his friends and she helps him overcome his self pity. And then in the end he sees the boys again and Frypan is excited cause Gally is with someone who can actually stand him and make him a "better" person. (Hope this was understandable, luv you)

This is the Gally content I was looking for.

Also, lu, I messaged you a while back when you sent me another request about TMR about a different Maze type. I don't think it was that important to the story but I just wanted to clear it up lmao and I don't think you saw it. So if you could get back to me that'd be great :))

DEAD MAN WALKING PT. 1

MASTERLIST | GALLY MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2

SUMMARY: See above. Movie based fic.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, Gally nearly dying, Chuck's body, the aftermath of the Maze, Lawrence. WICKED being WCKD because movie.

You weren't always one of Lawrence's men.

For anyone that wasn't immune, working for WCKD or lucky enough to find themselves in the Last City- life was a shitshow.

If you were even lucky enough to live, chances are you lost your parents to the Flare before you hit double digits. That's if you didn't catch it yourself. And no one cares about your sob-story either. You're just another poor bastard who has dealt with the same shit as everyone else.

Tough.

You lost your parents when you were about twelve, and got swept into smuggling serum from place to place. Or as it's known on the streets- Bliss.

Which is how you met Lawrence.

He became one of your regular buyers, and by the time you hit fifteen, you'd been swept into his growing group of radicals.

Lawrence likes you. You're kind but capable, and not afraid to draw blood need be. Which is why you're one of his main men- and you get to boss other people around.

Somehow, Lawrence got wind of WCKD facilities out in the Scorch, which, unfortunately for you, means trekking out there to check them out.

Luckily, you'd managed to get ahold of some old ranger trucks that you blatantly stole off of WCKD.

"Let's go, boys!" You hollar as you lean out of the side of the open front vehicle, holding onto the windscreen pole.

It's quite an unpopular opinion, but you actually quite like the Scorch. It's barren and massive, and empty.

Not one really comes out here and it's one of the few places you and your men can actually mess around a bit.

I mean, it's not like you're going to actually find anything in the Scorch, right? You accepted a long time ago that Lawrence is chasing rainbows and they're never going to let him into the Last City.

It's not like you don't have ways into the City. But Lawrence wants the entire population to live there, and he wants to shut down the walls for good. So, for now, you're stuck trying to find ways to do that.

"Uh, Boss?" The driver says as you stare off into the sand. "You seein' this?"

"Huh?" You turn.

Perpendicular to the way you're driving, you can just see the top of a massive stone structure from over the top of some of the dunes. "The hell?"

"Should we check it out?"

"Yeah, let's go." You put your fingers to your lips, sending out a high-pitched whistle. "Let's go!" You signal the other cars behind you, waving in the direction of the structure.

You drive over the sand, bouncing over the soft surface.

"Holy shit," you mumble, the building coming into view properly as you come over the dune.

It's unfathomably big and round. Looming stone walls that covers hundreds of metres of the Scorch. It has to be miles long as you approach.

"There!" You point. "There's an entrance!"

You grind to a halt, sand flickering everywhere as you jump out. Your automatic rifle is pulled up from the strap on your shoulders as you hold it, walking through the doors. Your men aren't far behind you as you enter the the building.

"What the fuck?" Someone behind you mutters.

In front of you is a destroyed laboratory. High tech computers and shattered glass litters the place, along with the corpses of several people dressed in white coats.

"What happened here?" You look around, lowering your gun and freezing when you find a body.

It's a kid. He's chubby and has curly brown hair. Can't be any older than thirteen. Blood stains his chest and his vacant stare is just another line on the list of horrors you've seen.

You crouch next to him. "What happened to you, buddy?"

You touch his face. Cold.

You sigh, moving your hand and closing his eyes. "Poor sod."

"Uh, Boss, we got another," you look up. One of your guys stands over another body. He's fallen on his side, a spear sticking straight through his chest and out the other side.

"Jesus," you stand up again, walking over.

The boy has black spider veins all over his body and his eyes are completely dark. You've never seen anything like it.

Looking around the lab, you spot large syringes full of a strange blue liquid. Walking over to the table where they are, you pick one up.

But you partially jump out of your skin when there's a sharp gasp from behind you, accompanied with a string of swear words from your colleagues.

The boy on the floor is alive and squirming.

"He's alive?" You ask, in some form of shock. "How is that even possible?"

No one responds as the boy starts to thrash, letting out a blood-curdling scream. It's almost like something is moving under his skin as you look at what's in your hand and then back at him.

Storming over, you slam the syringe into his arm.

Almost immediately, he stills again, his eyes and skin quickly returning to normal.

"What the hell? What did you just do?" You ignore the confusion from your men.

Pressing your fingers to the boy's throat, you feel a pulse and he seems to be breathing- somehow. He's unconscious again, though.

"Contact Lawrence," you instruct, "someone else help me get him up."

"What?"

"He needs a doctor."

"So, what? We're taking him with us?"

"If we save him- he might have information on what was going on here. We can always come back. Come on!"

It's a bit of a rush against time to get him back to base and the outskirts of the City. But he's still alive, somehow.

You have one of the best top surgeons on your side. He used to work in the City, but he's infected, so he was thrown out. So, now he's using the little time he has left to help you guys.

"You really think this guy is worth it?" You pace the common area, a couple of your close allies watching.

"Lawrence seems to think so."

"This is dumb. We should've just raided the place and let the bastard rot."

"Oi," you snap, "watch it. We're meant to be for the people, remember? That means everyone."

It's been days since you brought him in, and you're starting to think it's a dead end. But you couldn't just leave him there.

"Miss," one of the surgeon's assistants pops his head around the corner, "he's awake."

You exchange glances with the others before slipping away. Going down the halls, you reach the "medical" room. Which is basically just a bed and some stolen IV drips.

The boy sits on the bed, his head in his hands and a bloodied bandage around his chest.

"You got a name?" You ask. He's noticed your presence, but hasn't said anything, so you decide to speak.

Nothing.

"Hey," you continue, "you alright, man?"

"Where am I?" He asks eventually, his hands flopping into his lap. "Why am I alive?"

"Looks like it wasn't your time," you shrug. "Sorry."

"I should be dead. I hurt... I killed Chuck." His hands come to his head again. "I killed him. I hurt that kid. It should've been Thomas... I would've never... I didn't..."

"You talkin' about that kid in there?" You ask, casually putting your hands in your baggy pant pockets.

He finally looks at you. His eyes are bloodshot and he's pale. "You saw him?"

You pull your lips into a thin line, nodding. "You killed him?"

His jaw tenses, tears welling in his eyes. "I didn't mean to- I really didn't mean to. I-I was stung, I lost control and I shot the wrong person."

"Lost control?"

"The Grievers! I tried to escape the Maze and I got stung and I shot Chuck and Minho speared me. I should be dead! I deserve it."

"If you weren't in control of yourself, then you can't really blame yourself."

Maybe you should be freaking out more. He's just confessed to killing a child. But WCKD is capable of things beyond human possibility, so controlling someone against their will isn't exactly groundbreaking nowadays.

You've seen people do terrible things to survive. You've done terrible things to survive. This is the last place he'll be judged. This place is full of blood and ghosts of corpses- that's just how the world is now.

The guilt never really goes away, so you sympathise.

He stares at you, blankly. He sniffs. "Who are you?"

You walk up to him, holding your arm out for him to shake. "(Y/N). I'll ask you again; you got a name?"

"Gally," he slowly takes your hand, giving you a weak shake.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Gally, I just wish it were under better circumstances. You reckon you're up to answering some of my questions, or do you need some more time to recover?"

"Can you answer my question first?"

You sigh. "You're safe here." You say bluntly. "I dragged your ass out of that WCKD facility. So, if you wanna blame someone for your mortality, you can shout at me for it later. We're a group of rebels outside the City - we try to help people that WCKD doesn't. The Right Arm has been MIA for years, so we're the best you've got, I'm afraid."

Gally has some of his memories back. He remembers the Flare, WCKD and rumors of the Right Arm. He's missing pieces, but has enough to understand what you're talking about.

"So, are you willing to talk? You'd much rather deal with me than my Boss- trust me."

He nods, clearing his throat. "What do you wanna know?"

Gally is surprisingly cooperative, probably because he's on a lot of painkillers and has a lot of fresh trauma. He tells you about the Maze, his memory loss, his friends and the monsters he faced.

Lawrence agreed to let you deal with this, but you know he's going to want to speak to him.

"Experimenting on kids?" Lawrence scoffs, throwing down your notes about what Gally said on the desk in front of him and sighing. "That's a new low, even for WCKD."

"You're telling me."

"What about the boy? You think he'll be useful?"

You shrug. "I don't know. He's well built and has a lot of potential. Used to be leader of the Builders or some shit- could be useful if we need to make this place bigger."

"Can he shoot?"

You hesitate. "Yep."

"Hm."

"We protect people that need it, Lawrence- he needs it more than most. He's also probably immune and we can get Bliss out of him."

Lawrence hesitates. "Okay, he can stay- but don't let your hero complex get the better of you. He's the same as everyone else here."

"You got it, Captain."

And with that word of warning, Gally kind of ends up under your wing. You show him around, give him a cluster of pillows and blankets to use as a bed if he's lucky enough to find an empty space on the floor, and actually teach him how to shoot (properly).

Gally is standoffish and rude- something you come to learn fairly quickly. He looks down on people who are sick or weak, and whilst he seems to care a lot about things, he's bitter and angry.

He also doesn't appreciate being cared for or looked after. He doesn't think he deserves it and he hates being pitied. But, he has little choice and it takes a while for him to accept that he doesn't have much choice.

And he's not used to the way the Flare affects people.

"Gally, stop staring."

"Gally, don't say that."

"Gally, they don't know what shank means- you're gonna get beat up."

"Gally put that down; it's Lawrence's."

He's definitely a problem child.

From the sounds of the Glade; Gally is completely out of his depth. The Glade was serene and peaceful, run under Alby, who was firm but understanding and everyone had a common goal and kept things smooth. Your den isn't like that.

It's bloodthirsty and cutthroat. Anyone with a reputation has it for reasons that you don't want to know, and Lawrence isn't scared to put a bullet in the head of anyone who pisses him off.

So, when Gally has a meeting with Lawrence after a month, your heart is in your throat.

"So, Gally, how are you finding it here?" Lawrence leans on his desk. His skeletal appearance and weak state means he rarely ventures out amongst the crowds, so Gally is visibly uncomfortable.

When he doesn't respond, you nudge him, nodding to answer his question.

"It's been... fine." You inwardly cringe as Lawrence stands up.

"Fine? We house you, let my best mentor you, and all you call our hospitality... fine?"

Gally looks to you for advice. "No, uh, it's good. I really appreciate everything you've done for me."

"That's more like it."

"Why did you want to see him, Bo-"

"I'm not talking to you, am I?" Lawrence cuts your off, immediately making you regress into yourself.

Something about it makes Gally's jaw tense. You're one of the few people that has consistently looked out for him- and you're the only girl he's ever actually befriended. So, that combined has led to him developing a small crush on you.

So, watching him demean you like that makes him furious.

"Why am I here?" Gally asks, and Lawrence snaps to look at him. "What? You wanted to talk to me about something."

Lawrence scoffs, offering a toothy smile. "I want you to join the patrols and search parties with (Y/N)." He tosses him a mask from his desk. It's a gas mask with a screen sheild- something everything one is expected to wear to keep roxins out of the system. Though, you suspect the tinted glass is to hide Gally's identity. He is a WCKD subject, after all. You, however, just tend to wear the bottom half of the mask on jobs.

You need to see more than the others.

"You're muscle and immune; we need both. Does that work for the both of you?"

You exchange glances before speaking in unison. "Yes, Boss."

And just like that, Gally has become an official member of your team.

He struggles with crowd work. Storming through the crowds of infected that often surround the City is dangerous work. More for you than him, since the Flare is an actual threat to you. But it's necessary work.

You have to give out food and Bliss; often using the time to trade information from the locals that reside there.

He can become aggressive and shoves a lot of people out of the way, but he mellows under your gaze. He wants to do what you think is right, and be better because you saved him.

He owes you.

He prefers the trips to the Scorch. He, however, does not like it when you actually find a Maze. He'd normally wait outside.

And had he been put on anyone else's team, he'd be forced to join. But you don't make him. You need him as mentally stable as possible- revisiting trauma is not the way to do that.

For the next five-ish months, that's how it is.

Until things get considerably worse.

They shut down the City. To everyone.

No one, not just the infected, can enter.

The outskirts of the City turned into full-blown riots. You and your men are up to their necks in discourse. More people are joining the edge of the City as the people realise they really are fucked.

Gally, who has become an actual decent soldier and person under your pressure, seems distracted on this particular day.

You're doing your usual rounds as best as you can, sitting armed on the top of trucks as one of Lawrence's men eggs on the rebellion through speakers.

"This is a shit show," you mumble as Gally stares off into the crowd. You can't see his expression, but his body is tense and he pays no mind to what you just said. "Gally?" You nudge him.

"What?"

"I said this is a shit show."

"Yeah," he sounds completely disinterested, "it is."

He's acting weird, but you're too deep into a riot, and there are WCKD drones circling.

"I know them," Gally says.

"What?"

He nods towards a group in the crowd as they're struggling to slip through the people. "I was in the Glade with them."

You blink at him. "What? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's Thomas, Newt and Fry- I'd recognise them anywhere. We have to find them; they'll be dead out here." He turns, signalling some of the guys to follow him before he jumps off of the van.

"Wha- Gally!"

"Boss?" You turn to them, the men waiting your instructions.

You hesitate. "Do as he says- follow Gally's orders. I'll stay here."

They nod, also diving off the vehicle and vanishing into the crowd. You have to keep an eye on things here.

Which probably wasn't your best shout because a metallic groaning noise starts, and before you know it, missiles are being fired left and right at the crowds.

"Go! Go!" You scream, directing civilians, now also on the ground.

"Boss! We gotta go!"

"They're murdering innocent civilians!"

"We can't help them now! Come on!"

Running through the crowd, a sickening thought hits you. "Where's Gally? Hey, where's Gally?!"

"I don't know! We'll find him back at base!"

"Shit."

It's a mad rush back to camp, but you didn't expect to find what you do.

Gally is on the floor as you jump out of the van again, he's pinned to the floor by some dude you don't recognise as a blond boy tries to calm the situation.

"Oi!" You shout, jogging over and letting your mask fall around your face. "What the hell is going on here?!"

You men hold guns pointed at the boy. "Stand down! Now!" You grab the boy's jacket, yanking him up and away from Gally. "The fuck are you playing at? You tryna get shot?"

"It's fine," Gally groans as he sits up. "Kinda had that coming. Anyone else? Fry? Newt?"

"You know this guy?" An older gentleman asks, clearly lost.

"He was an old friend," (you're assuming) Frypan says.

"How?" Newt says. "How is this possible? We watched you die."

"No, you left me to die," Gally corrects. "And if we hadn't found you when we did, you'd be dead right now. What the hell are you doing here?"

"Minho," Newt simply says. "WCKD has him here. We're looking for a way in."

Gally looks at you, tilting his head slightly and pulling his lips into a thin line.

You sigh, knowing this means a lot to him. "We can help with that. Follow me."

"I'm not going anywhere with him," Thomas snaps.

"Suit yourself." Gally says.

"But we can get you through those walls," you add.

They all reluctantly start following as Gally briefly explains how he ended up here along with what your operation is.

He warns them about Lawrence, before taking them to talk to him.

"Hey," you grab his wrist, stopping him and he looks at you. "I'm gonna go check on our wounded, send a patrol car out to help those hurt at the scene."

"You're leaving?" His eyebrows furrow for a second. This'll be the first thing that Gally's done without you. He's never even spoken to Lawrence before without your reassuring presence.

Frypan looks at Newt, smirking slightly. They were close in the Glade, and it's obvious to Frypan that something has definitely changed in Gally. And he thinks that's to do with you.

"You seem to have things under control here; I have other men I need to worry about. I won't be long."

You turn to leave, but Gally stops you again. "Stay alive."

You grin at him. "I'll try my best. No promises, though."

You do what you say and return to the scene, helping everyone you can whilst Gally takes Thomas and Newt through the tunnels.

By the time you get back, you're exhausted and Gally is standing around a table with Brenda, Jorge and Frypan. Thomas and Newt have vanished.

You walk into the room, immediately gaining Gally's attention.

"Still kicking, then?"

"Told you I'd try my best," you put your hand on his shoulder as he looks over some scattered plans. "How've things been here? You got a plan?"

"Kinda. Thomas doesn't seem too happy with it, though."

"Bummer. Any other options?"

"Not really."

"He's gonna have to cope, then."

You slip away, moving into another room but shouting back. "I'm gonna get a drink, anyone want one?"

You get a couple of yes' and go on to provide.

"You never told us your girlfriend's name," Gally looks up at Frypan, who is sitting with his arms crossed, smirking.

Gally scoffs. "She's called (Y/N)- and she's not my girlfriend. She's my Boss."

"Ah, well, you always said you think you'd like powerful women." Gally glares at his friend, but struggles to repress the smile on his lips. "You've changed, shank."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No," Frypan smiles genuinely.

You come back in with a few glasses, immediately making them change the conversation. "Where are your friends?"

"They went outside to talk," Gally answers as you give him a glass. "Thanks."

"So," you casually put your hands in your pockets, "what's the plan then?"

You did not expect the plan to be kidnap.

It's awkward and stressful watching Teresa cut open the boys' necks and pulling out a thin bit of wire.

You're sticking with Lawrence in his attempt to breach the walls and Gally is going with the Gladers. You dislike this plan, but you think Gally is more than capable.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" The group is splitting up and Brenda and Jorge are saying their goodbyes too.

"We need to do this," Gally sighs.

"For a guy that tried to kill you?"

"He had every right to try and kill me."

You sigh, leaning back on a pillar.

"You gonna tell me not to go? Give me the order to stay?"

He sounds almost hopeful. You don't know when you started prioritising Gally over the others. Maybe it was because he became your responsibility but over time your feelings of protection became romantic.

You don't want him to leave. You don't want to split up and let him go into the lion's den, but you need to do this. And so does he.

It's obvious this is a way of him repenting for what he's done.

You shake your head. "No, we gotta do this. You'll be fine, just stay in contact."

He seems almost disappointed. "Yes, Boss."

They group set up to leave, and you anxiously tap your foot, knowing you should be leaving and preparing yourself.

Fuck it.

"Gally! Wait!" You jog over to him as he sorts out his WCKD uniform, just about to leave.

He looks at you as you rush to him, throwing your arms around him. He stumbles backwards, his hand coming to the small of your back.

Pulling away, you look at him and he looks at you. And, impulsively, you kiss him. He freezes momentarily, before pulling you closer and kissing you back.

"Stay alive." You mumble as you part.

He scoffs, smiling. "I'll try my best."

Another Gally piece for you guys. This might be one of those that requires a part 2 because I have too much to get through to be doing too many long pieces and I've just finished a three part story lol.

Let me know if you'd want that.

I hope you enjoyed :))

#🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri writes tmr #🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri tmr gally #tmr fanfiction #tmr imagines #the maze runner #tmr gally #gally tmr #gally imagine

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thieves-in-the-palace · 8 months

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jumps into ur ask box hello. hi. what are ur ng+ time loop thoughtz

god i have. a lot of thoughts about ng+ time loops in general. in relation to this post tho i specifically have Some Thoughts about Akira going through the loops trying to figure out why he's stuck there, how to get out, etc and also having to contend with Akechi dying every time but also like…the inevitable emotional cycles that come with watching the same guy die over and over.

✧ "Who is more unlucky here? The one who will die every time but never remember? Or the one who will live every time and always remember?" –> "Me. I'm the more unlucky one. What's this dude's fucking problem" –> "What's MY fucking problem? Why does this keep happening to me? Why doesn't anyone else remember? Why can't I escape this? Why does Akechi have to die every time??" –> "What's this dude's FUCKING problem–"

✧ does it count as a parasocial relationship if you know the guy irl and also it's based on the weird sense of kinship that comes with being doomed to repeatedly live through the same year over and over while he's doomed to die every time. hand in hand they are BOTH doomed baybee

✧ You know how Akechi is often portrayed as having Death Note-esque internal monologues when interacting with Akira? That but Akira is having his own wildly different internal monologue that sounds a lot like "okay you shit idiot. what's it gonna take to keep you from dying"

✧ The rest of the Thieves are surprised when Akira doesn't seem to react to Akechi's death, but they figure he's trying to keep it together for the sake of the mission. Truly tho Akira is mentally cussing Akechi out and lamenting the fact they're gonna have to fight god again soon. rip lawboy you would've loved fighting ol' yaldy

✧ Futaba hacks Akira's phone (for enrichment) and sees his most recent google search "is it bad to stop feeling bad after the 15th time you watch the same person die or are you allowed to start getting annoyed about it" – maybe he's going through something similar to what she went through w/ her mom? She starts prodding him about his past, but it doesn't really get her anywhere…

(If u want to get even more into Game-Based Reality Nonsense u could even say that Futaba can't find anything on Akira aside from his criminal record. No hospital records, no school info, no nothing. It's like the guy didn't even exist before the day he got arrested. Akira might not have any answers either, which, u know, doesn't help with the mental strain caused by being stuck in a time loop. Does he even exist outside of the loop? If the loop ended, would he disappear with it? etc etc)

✧ At the beginning of each loop, Akira makes a list of things that might break the time loop, updating it as needed. "Akechi survives" is at the top of the list every time bc it's one of the only things that never happens.

✧ Akira just generally having a slightly shorter temper w/ Akechi bc truly. How do u go through this sort of ordeal w/o wanting to rattle him like a maraca after a point. He won't hesitate to call Akechi cringe when the guy leans too heavily on his Pleasant Lawboy™ persona.

They wind up sparring in Mementos more frequently bc this Akira is more willing to entertain Akechi's bloodlust; fighting is a good outlet for Akira's own frustrations. Akechi keeps getting more and more annoyed each time tho bc why tf can this attic trash keep up with him? How is he predicting Akechi's attacks so well? (Akechi's going to start spitting fire if he ever finds out Akira has been holding back during their fights lmao. Akira can easily trounce him in 1v1 since like…3 loops ago?)

✧ Akira spending so much time annoyed and even furious w/ Akechi for not having enough self-preservation to survive even one loop only to ultimately circle right back into The Guilt + Sorrow bc god, all this time and he still can't figure out how to keep this fuckhead alive?

And it IS guilt Akira feels, unfortunately. Makoto and Futaba were both antagonistic towards the Phantom Thieves at first, too. Just spending some time with them was enough to reveal how getting screwed over by adults guided their actions; it doesn't absolve them of threatening the group, but it makes them easier to forgive.

Akira wonders, sometimes, if he's too quick to forgive Akechi. He's killed people, and he claims to be perfectly okay with being a murderer so long as it means he can reach his goals. But Akechi is a liar all the way down, too, because a cold-hearted killer wouldn't sacrifice himself for his enemies. He wouldn't give up his only shot at vengeance so easily after going through years of hell to achieve it. Yet Akechi still dies in that boiler room every time. Akechi never truly hates Akira, and Akira can't quite bring himself to ever truly hate Akechi, either.

But then Akira sees Akechi alive and well and smiling for the camera in the next loop, and he gets the abrupt urge to lay the guy out.

✧ "I want you to live. I also never want to see you again."

✧ And all of this is w/o getting into P5R's third semester hijinks. Akira thinking he's finally escaped the time loop only to realize that something Worse is happening now.

And Akechi is still there, because of fucking course he is–

#sorry for the delay on this btw! (<-cursed w/ tendency to draft asks and forget to post them)#ask #anonymous #persona 5 #p5 #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #goro akechi #Kidd speaking #ng+ time loops are. my beloveds my breads n butters #this isn't intended to be shuake but it can EASILY be read as such jhfgfgjhfg #ng+ time loop v1

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gatorbites-imagines · 2 years

Text

Kinktober day 10

Tyler Durden + Leather

Tyler Durden is like a disease or a very bad virus for me. He won’t go away no matter how hard I try, and I need him wrecked. I will always devour a reader who isn’t starstruck by Tyler and take all his bullshit, so this one is too.

Oh yeah Tyler and the narrator are two different people in this even though we don’t see the narrator, just thought I should add that. Readers also a big guy in this, cuz I like it. I also gave the reader some specific tattoos for plot, lmao.

This became a lot more than just leather stuff, so hope yall enjoy as I fell completely off-track writing this. Enjoy nerds.

Kinktober list

Tyler Durden, a name on the lips of every single member of Fight Club. It was whispered with the same reverence one would when speaking of a god, awe and worship in their voices as they looked around them as if the man himself would materialize out of thin air.

You had joined Fight Club a while ago, from your understanding this wasn’t the original place it had started, it wasn’t even the second or third. It was in the back of a mechanics shop, the garage cleaned of any cars and the tables with tools pushed away to the back of the room. You had become somewhat of a stable here, even surpassing who was meant to be the captain sent by Tyler Durden himself.

To everyone there you were almost untouchable, never buckling under anyone’s fist or kicks, always getting right back up and wailing on them with twice the strength they had tried to deliver onto you. To the captain, the space monkey, it was like looking at another version of Tyler, though you never joked or smirked, you never tried to butter anyone up or spread your ideals to them in sugar coated words.

And even though you had never tried to gain a following, a handful of space monkeys of your own, you got it. This group of fight club seemed to have ripped itself free from project mayhems claws and thrown them to the wind, turning to their new object of worship, you. Where Tyler Durden was only rumors and whispers, you were very real, your punches like revelations and your glare like the light of God shining down upon them.

You didn’t notice or care that they started calling you sir, or asked what their homework was, neglecting the captain apparently sent by Tyler Durden all together. You had always thought of the homework as stupid and useless, so you would always shrug and tell them to have a healthy number of meals, drink enough water, sleep well, things like that. You didn’t care for their attention, as long as you got to fight. And at this point, they would all crawl over each other for a chance to fight you, to feel your fists against them making bruises like psalms or bible verses stamped into their very being.

Your followers, your sheep as you had referred to them as once as a joke, must have started spreading your message, as more and more people joined your Fight Club. Soon there were too many people to fit in the mechanics garage, but one of the sheep there, as they had embraced being called, apparently knew of a place you could go. It was an abandoned storage facility, large enough to fit hundreds of people if needed inside, and at this point you wouldn’t be surprised if there were that many. You could never keep count as the members always seemed to change, like they were taking turns on who would get to be there when you were.

You had never joined fight club because you believed any of the drivel they spewed, you had been half drunk the first time you had stumbled into one, and had won multiple fights that night. It seemed as time passed and more and more sheep appeared, your name was lost in the process. After a while you were referred to as The Angel, The Demon, or even The Demiurge.

You knew where they got all these names from, as you had multiple tattoos that could hint at Christianity or something similar. Biblically accurate angels on your arms, demons down your legs, the leviathan curled over your hip bones and over your stomach, and a being of death on your back. You weren’t religious, you had simply gotten one angel tattoo when you were young because you thought it was cool and just kept up the theme. You were never much of a talker, so you never corrected the other men there when they referred to you as these titles. As long as you got to vent your anger through your fists, they could build you an altar for all you cared.

During all of this, the captain sent by Tyler Durden had disappeared and returned back to the house on paper street. Here he shared the news of the faction that had ripped themselves away and created their own system. How it seemed project mayhem had no control whatsoever, the only thing staying the same being the rules of fight club.

Tyler had not been home at the time the captain had returned, and it took weeks almost a month and a half before he came back. During this time, it seemed your sheep had reached out even further and infiltrated more of fight club’s other hideouts, spreading your message, and converting them to you. The space monkey that shared the information with Tyler did so with a shaky voice, his fists clenched by his side as he sweated, fearing his leader’s reaction to the apparent betrayal.

Instead of blowing up in rage Tyler had become interested, that evening laying in his bathtub thinking of what kind of person this Demiurge must be to pull the rug from right under him and steal what could be hundreds of his people. Not only that but your followers seemed to spread your message even faster than Tyler’s, more and more new people joining up to your branch than there did the original.

That Friday night he decided he needed to see it himself, the bubbling feeling of interest brewing in his chest. He had to see what was so attractive and drawing about this, he needed on an instinctual level to know who this other person was, the need burning deep in his bones and taking over most of his thoughts.

When he arrived at the empty storage facility, he was mildly intrigued at just how many people there were, and how many different people there seemed to be. Anything from the lowest of the low, to what looked like military men and judges lining the edges of the room. No one paid him any mind as he wormed his way through the crowd, making his way along the edges and keeping an eye out for whoever, their leader could be.

You had clocked Tyler the moment he stepped inside, you didn’t care who he was you just knew he was there for trouble, you could tell from the way he carried himself to the way he dressed. Your eyes traveled up and down his body, taking in the sheer almost see-through shirt half covered by a red leather jacket, and the tight leather pants dragged up over his thick thighs, the material stretching and pulling every time he would take a step.

Tyler caught your eye where you were standing against the walls, shadowed slightly by an overhang. You were wearing a baggy hoodie and grey sweatpants, the kind that looked baggy but left little to the imagination. He shot you that cocky smirk he was known for, and quirked his brow in interest when you looked away from him and towards the fight happening in the middle of the room, as if he was an afterthought.

It sent some kind of thrill through him, pushing him to search you out for the very fact that out of everyone here, only you seemed to notice he even existed. Worming his way out of the crowd with ease, he kept you as his target, Tyler’s eyes running over the shapes he could see through the fabric, his eyes lingering on your thighs or upper arms. Tyler was never one for performative muscles, but it seemed you had gotten yours from wailing on others instead of at a gym.

You heard him before he reached you, the fake leather of his pants announcing his presence as he neared you. When you looked over at him again, he smirked again. As he was closer you could see the chipped tooth of his, and the many bruises that seemed to litter his body from head to toe. He purred a greeting before leaning against the wall, turned towards you as he had to crane his neck to look up at you.

You pulled dismissively at your lip as he tried to start conversation, the attention of the men around you laying heavily on the two of you, not that you cared, but Tyler certainly noticed. As the fight in the middle of the room stopped, Tyler grinned at you and said, “Since it’s my first night here, why don’t we fight?”, a giddy excitement burning in his eyes, as if the concept of fighting was something he wanted more than a man wanted sex.

You looked down at him, quirking one of your brows before giving a slight shrug and an “alright”, motioning towards the center of the room with your head as you pushed off the wall and started making your way there. The many men in the room seemed to part as you approached, like the black sea parted for Moses. Tyler was starting to think he had found exactly who he was looking for, and when you pulled off your hoodie, revealing a shirtless torso underneath, he was sure. The tattoos and bruises on your skin told him he had the correct man.

The air grew tense, excitement running like electricity through it as the two of you got into position, both shirtless and shoeless. Where Tyler grinned and seemed giddy, jumping from foot to foot, you stood sure and silent, face completely blank. Your fight lasted longer than any either of you had been in in the past, Tyler growing somewhat frustrated as you never seemed to tire even a little. But it also made heat stir in his body, the leather of his pants doing a piss poor job at hiding how hard he was getting.

Tyler finally patted out as you held him in a choke grip, his vision almost going fully black before he called it quit. He could taste nothing but blood and couldn’t breathe through his nose after having it punched so many times. The men around the room cheered as you picked Tyler up from the floor and carried him out of the center, like one would a doll they found on the side of the road.

You made your way outside and threw Tyler into a chair, cleaning yourself up the best you could with some paper towels before pulling your hoodie on. Tyler made slow work of wiping the blood off himself, the shitty paper towels doing nothing to soothe his raw punched skin. The man couldn’t help but moan softly as he started cleaning himself rougher, the dry drag of the paper towels smearing blood over his sensitive skin.

He let his head flop back to stare at you, watching as you blew your nose to get some of the blood out as you shoved some gauze into your cheek where you must have ripped some stitching or similar during the fight. Glancing down your eyes met, and you huffed to yourself at the almost fucked out expression on Tyler’s face. His pupils were wide, and he was breathing through his mouth, his tongue peeking out to lick at his bottom lip every now and then.

He bit his lip, dropping the bloody paper towel on the ground to grab at his crotch, giving the tightly contained length a squeeze. He moaned out loud, his eyelids fluttering as he started massaging his length, his hips moving against his hand to try and get as much friction as he could through the material. You rolled your eyes as the man seemed to busy trying to fuck his own hand to really care that he was sitting shirtless and shoeless out in the open of some junkyard, his hair a mess and his nose definitely broken.

Tyler moaned when he was suddenly grabbed, lifted out of the chair with ease as you sat down, turning him around and dropping him in your lap. You had one of your thighs between his own, the sudden movement grinding his crotch against you. He groaned, forcing his hips down harder to drag his length against your thigh, the tight leather of his pants only making it more painful for him.

Reaching up, you grabbed his chin and turned his head to you. His eyes were half shut as he chewed at his lip, blood bubbling up and running down his chin as he gave a hard bite at a cut your fist at left earlier. When your thumb ran over his bottom lip, he let go of it to slip his tongue out and drag it against your finger. You stayed silent as you pressed your thumb up and into his mouth, Tyler immediately curling his tongue around it and sucking, hollowing his cheeks and pressing it as far into his mouth as possible.

Tyler let his eyes fall shut as he kept sucking on your thumb, slurping as spit ran out from between his lips and down your wrist. He groaned as you grabbed his hip with your other hand, moving him faster against your thigh, his cock giving a pathetic twitch where it was held tightly in place by the leather. Tyler let out a noise similar to a gurgle as he grew closer, his eyelids fluttering as his hips twitched in uneven motions, his sucking on your finger growing more desperate.

When he finally came he moaned, his mouth falling open and releasing your thumb that you pulled away, a string of spit connecting from his lip to the tip of your finger. He ground his hips down roughly against your thigh, choked noises leaving him as he could feel the cum spreading on the inside of his pants, the leather growing uncomfortable at the motion.

Reaching up you cradled his face in your hand and he leant into it like a touch starved cat, quiet moans leaving him as he rode the afterglow of his release. He let his upper torso grow useless as he flopped forwards, resting his head against your shoulder as he breathed, moving his hips in tiny motions as he muttered gibberish against the fabric of your hoodie. He was starting to see the appeal, Tyler decided. Maybe he would have to come back sometime soon to observe you again.

#male reader #fight club #tyler durden #kinktober 2022 #kinktober #fight club imagine #fight club headcanon #fight club x reader #fight club x male reader #tyler durden imagine #tyler durden headcanon #tyler durden x male reader #tyler durden x reader

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thswrtchdthng · 6 days

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Okay here are some Magshawe prompt questions for your pleasure

1. Could Jonah kill Jonathan? Could Jonathan kill Jonah? I feel like they both have reasons to.

2. Who'd be willing to do cannibalism on the other?

3. Who do you think "died" first, Jonah's official death or Jonathan?

4. How do you think they met up?

5. Did they ever kiss?

6. Are they ever capable of being soft or are they stuck forever in passionate mode?

7. What if Dr.Fanshawe got time travelled to modern times and met Elias, would he fall again?

OH MY GOD THANK YOU SO MUCH

always coming in clutch, love that of you

1. well I've always thought of Jonathan as being quite a lot more physically strong than Jonah, so he definitely could kill him. I imagine it would be in a fit of that mix of rage and passion and fear and general morbidness that characterized the later part of their relationship. probably an accident too, and he'd feel equal parts like a hero for erasing an evil like that from the world and like absolute shit bc, well, he just killed the only person who understood him. he just killed his Jonah.

and as per Jonah, I don't think he could do it himself (even poisoning him or shit like that, it's just not his thing. I reckon he'd feel kinda meh about getting his hands dirty back then and he knows there are better things he could do). what he could do, and what he did in my interpretation of their relationship, is drive him to suicide. like just manipulating him and generally fucking him up emotionally and psicologically that he just kills himself yk. also in my brain it was a very gorey death, I might write something about that. of course, Jonah feels terrible about it too, but a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do yk.

2. cannibalism as a metaphor for love is so them. both. idk what it'd take for Jonah to do something like that but he's definitely not above it. I think a big part of his feelings for Jonathan in their later years together is the desire to metaphorically swallow Jonathan whole, which might translate to something literal. I'm not sure why or how, but he definitely could do it.

and Jonathan- well of course he could. I get the vibe that that desire to metaphorically devour the other was mutual, and along with his general Feelings by that point (the love, the rage, the constant panic, the distrust, the morbid curiosity) who knows what he could have done.

3. Jonathan. definitely. Jonah was not letting Jonathan outlive him, and I always thought the whole bodyhopping ordeal came as a surprise to him. so yeah he would've taken good care of Jonathan before anything.

although now that I think of it, the other option is also fun. Jonathan catching wind of the stuff going on both at the Institute and ar Millbank and being like "wtf are you doing now" but not wanting to give in to curiosity (and the need to see Jonah of course). Jonathan finding out about Jonah's 'death'!!!!!! he wouldn't know how to feel lmao.

4. hmmm I always thought they might have met at some sort of conference (those did happen back then didn't they) or symposium about some really morbid, really understudied branch of medicine (yk those that would piss off the church). Jonah did that thing where he starts asking the weirdest fucking questions like one asks about the weather and Jonathan was immediately like "he's so clever and interesting and curious and unashamed I need to talk to him" and they just hit it off

my second idea for a meetup is back in their university days. Jonah didn't study medicine (I have my own headcanon on that) but I think the general social scene was pretty open. maybe Jonah was out for drinks with some friends and saw Jonathan sulking in a corner and thought "interesting specimen, need to investigate"

a third idea I had was one of Smirke's little gatherings, but I wanted to see if I could come up with something new lol

5. yep. and much, much more. I imagine Jonathan was very reluctant at first, but by the time they first kissed the tension was unbearable and Jonah was already, well, a whore, so they were fine in the end (no they weren't).

6. wonderful question. I believe it's a mix of both. like their deranged passion has a bit of helpless softness mixed in, and back when they could be soft (before their entire relationship went to shit) even that softness held a passion that made it impossible to think straight.

7. oh that's a good one. for starters, it would be so fucking funny. like "what are you doing here" "what are YOU doing ALIVE. and how did you get there"

at first Jonathan would be absolutely outraged and disgusted by everything Jonah's done, but then, of course, he'd get curious. in my brain Jonathan was one of the first Flesh avatars, back when they were discussing whether the Flesh was real or not, so I think he'd have fun with that. and he was always big on the modification of the body from what it's born as to what you want it to be (Dr. Fanshawe said trans rights) so when he found out Jonah'd been straight up switching them around he'd be equal parts enraged and thrilled. can you imagine his reaction at how much medicine has progressed in the last 2 centuries? bby would be fucking elated.

Jonathan reading about modern medicine and being all euphoric while Jonah just watches him with heart eyes the entire time.

and it might get Jonathan far more into the Fears, especially into the Flesh. maybe he ends up like a different version of the Boneturner or something (and then monsterfucker Jonah kicks in and well, the rest is history yk).

this was so much fun tysm!!

#cw suicide mention #magshawe #jonahfanshawe #jonah magnus #jonathan fanshawe #tma #the magnus archives

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soulsty · 7 months

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....dude Fi was designed to look 13-14 according to the devs. it's really creepy that you ship her with anyone tbh, ESPECIALLY Ghirahim. she's literally a child. says a lot about you imo

Alright alright alright, let’s clear this up.

!DISCLAIMER BEFORE I START!

Do not mistake this post as me trying to excuse weird shit. Ew. I hate pro-shipping. Get it away from me.

Now into the nitty gritty-

Quoting DIRECTLY, from Hyrule Historia, it is on my lap as we speak

“• Looks 13 or 14”

Does this concept art look a lot like our finalized Fi design? Yes it does. This is the second closest to the finalized version in the book

So let’s go over more of this, and the several reasons why I think this isn’t canon.

“• metallic texture”

That didn’t stick around. I often joke that everything in Skyward Sword looks like it’s made out of fondant, and while her clothing does, her skin and wings looks much closer to porcelain.

“• a naive cuteness”

uhh, sure? She never seemed naive to me, but she is still cute so… that stuck I guess?

I don’t need to go over the last bullet point, because that is just true lmao

But here’s the kicker! Right?

“Like the Fairy Queen in Wind Waker”

The Fairy Queen is obviously a child. We know this, look at her, she also flirts with 12 year old Link iirc

But what makes this design look like the fairy queen? The hair does, it’s exactly the same, just parted on the opposite side. The grey-blue color is really similar. Her… eyes? But wait… that’s the same eye type as the regular Great Fairies? And Ghirahim?

She didn’t even carry over the circular toon style eyes in her final design

I’m pretty sure I could assume the Great Fairies in WW are meant to be adults right? Other versions always have been, and they very clearly look like an older version of the Fairy Queen… so why does Fi’s finalized design actually look a bit more like them? From the pointed eyes to the strong nose-to-eyebrow ridge, she’s starting to look less like the Queen to me…

But let’s go back to the concept art. What else does it say?

These are the same design as the other one that says she looks 13-14, just a bit less detailed

hmm… huh… that’s interesting. Her gem changes color? Well, that’s not canon

Wait what? “Connected to the arm, which is why it bends.” She has arms under her wings?

THEY TOOK HER GODDAMN ARMS

So yeah, in that same design where she “looks 13 or 14” she had arms. Do with that what you will

How about we dive even deeper into Fi’s concept art, hmm?

It seems pretty clear to me that she wasn’t meant to be a child character from the start, some of these designs appear child-like (the one next to the iron man design in particular), but lots of these are also just women

But okay, okay, let’s take a step back from Fi’s concept art. How about Ghirahim’s, what does his say?

The same age as Link? This mfer is 17?? Jesus Christ, talk about the jock kid in high school

Jokes aside, I don’t believe that, he refers to Link as a child the entire time, all of his concept art pre-finalized, just looks like old men, so I assume that moreso meant they were straying away from that design element.

I would also like to mention that Ghirahim’s concept art states in his sword form “He shows emotion without using his eyes”

While very clearly showing a picture of him expressing with his eyes, something that remains consistent in-game as well. So this could be translation error, or just… idk honestly it just doesn’t really make sense lmao

The tl;dr of all this concept art talk is this:

Don’t take concept art as fact. As an artist, concept art is literally that. A concept. I have made designs with elements that have been changed drastically by the finalized version. It’s all a process.

SO! Now that we’re done with the concept art, let’s actually move to references from the game.

At the beginning of the game, this is said, by Gaepora and Fi

Link is referred to as “a/the youth” multiple times, as opposed to Fi being referred to once as “youthful in likeness yet wise with knowledge immeasurable.”

Youthful in likeness. Not an actual youth, and the youthful in likeness thing could not even necessarily tie back to saying she looks 13-14, just that she looks young. Youthful is a very large age-range after all.

My second point about in-game… Scrapper. This doesn’t really lead too far, because we have no idea how “old” Scrapper is “supposed to be”, he’s a robot, he has less of an age than Ghirahim and Fi, BUT he’s allowed to be an absolute simp, to the point of calling her “Mistress” non-stop, so idk, that just doesn’t read as something a child would go through to me.

UPDATE: more evidence on the front of Scrapper, when he firsts meets Link, he explicitly doesn’t want to help Link because, and I quote “Serving children is very low in my task priority.” Then Fi appears, blah blah blah, you can’t carry the windmill propeller in your pouch, right? Then Scrapper says “Who are you!?” And does what I can only describe as his version of an AWOOGA (what being “zrrt-FWOOOSH”, paraphrased) and continues, “Your name is…Fi? Should I call you Mistress Fi? Are you looking for something Mistress Fi? …I…understand. At your request, I will carry anything, regardless of weight or destination…”

So there you go, serving children is very low in his priority, Hylia was around at the same time the LD units were active, so Hylia would’ve known about the Scrapper units priorities, (assuming they all have the same priority list) so why would she make a child? Just why? And in the same vein, why would Hylia make her servant sword-spirit a child in the first place, that doesn’t make any sense 😭

Looping back around to where this all started, what does “looks 13 or 14” even specifically mean? She looks that age, not she is that age. And I’m not going to go Lolita topic with this, I’m not here to say “she’s like 1,000 years old! So of course she isn’t a child!” I’m here to say, lots of people look older, or younger than they actually are. She’s almost the same height as Link, so if she were meant to be around his age, she’d probably be around 16, and if she’s 16, and Ghirahim is 17 according to his concept art, where did your argument go?

Speaking realistically, Hylia probably designed her to look young and ‘cute’ so she wouldn’t scare Link. Let’s be real, her personality is intimidating, and she was going to be projecting herself into his dreams, so if she had a intimidating appearance (like some of her old concepts), Link would probably be afraid of her.

That’s all. I could go deeper into some of these points, and add on other things, but I think some stuff is self-explanatory.

Now, even if you want to discredit everything I just said, Ghirahim and Fi are both adults in all of my work. Unless explicitly stated or shown otherwise.

I draw and write them how I envision them in my head. In Skyward Sword, I have always read both of them as adults. I have not aged-up Fi for this ship, that’s fucking weird. They are both adults.

#ghirafi #ghirahim #fi skyward sword #I know I shouldn’t have ever given this person this much time of day at all #but honestly it’s nice to get this out of my system #a lot of this is probably over explained but #I’m autistic whaddya do #I am the one who KNACKs

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becauseplot · 4 months

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thinking about archivists again. below the cut: obscene amounts of brainrot in the form of a long-winded relationship study and oddly specific references to canon that may or may not be accurate

im trying to come up with some sort of au for them (writer's block and creative burnout is a BITCH it's okay though we stay silly) and there's just something about how qphil and qcellbit don't (or didn't) really wind up in each other's circles often. sure they were friendly with each other in passing, and they definitely had some nice little interactions earlier on: cellbit briefly interviewing phil on one of his first days on the island over a cup of coffee and solidifying phil's view of cellbit as the Dedicated Investigator; phil asking cellbit to babysit chayanne and tallulah while he's away on a trip and cellbit being more than happy to; phil briefly checking in with cellbit --- who was in the process of tumbling into his regret arc, cutting off ties with loved ones and making himself a martyr --- and asking if he was okay when phil spotted him hanging alone in the back of the group; chatting about the upcoming wedding and phil advising cellbit that he and roier should probably introduce some sort of dress code (lmao); cellbit watching phil and missa meet up for the first time in months on the way to the federation's people-freezers and all of the pieces rapidly falling into place (the name of phil's waystone, phil's skull backpack, phil's elusive "husband," ohhhhhhh...). they've always been in each other's peripheral, but never directly involved in each other's personal lives.

until the happy pills.

see the thing about archivists is that they're not drawn together by a pre-existing friendship; they're more friendly acquaintances at this point, perhaps almost-friends, though they're certainly not close. but then forever's life is under threat, and god, they both love forever immensely. with direct help from bad and indirect help from others (qpac you LEGEND), they're eventually able to formulate a plan that successfully drag forever out from under the haze of drugs, pull him to the surface. they sit next to each other as they sit at the bedside of their mutual friend, watch him breathing, and try to breathe themselves.

and from that moment on it's solidified: they know they can depend on each other, when shit hits the fan. they have their respective strengths, and they balance out each other nicely. i wish i had gotten more of a chance to watch their dynamic during purgatory 1 (unfortunately i have a life sadge) but from what i saw, they turned out to be some pretty good co-leaders, and an interesting dynamic at that: phil acting more as a support role (moral support, resource support, combat support, ALL the support) and stepping up into a leader-like role when needed, but ultimately letting cellbit take the helm a lot of the time since he's a strategist with more practice managing large groups of people (i wont get into it here, and i want to watch more vods so i can more properly analyze them but HOUGHH i have THOUGHTS!! SO MANY!!!)

what im trying to get at is that they were initially in the peripheral in each others lives but were eventually drawn together out of necessity, due to circumstances. the mutual respect followed, which was then followed by trust, and then collaboration, and then friendship. i've also made this post talking about their dynamic, how they both understand each other's need to focus on the here and now and understand that they don't need to know every little thing about each other to still trust each other. and this is so integral to their relationship. it's what makes archivists archivists.

so now all that's left for me to do is try to come up with some sort of au i can chuck them in, incorporating this idea of "friendship of necessity" as a core feature of the plot. i have scattered ideas but none are particularly appealing or solid enough. i will try though!! if u have any suggestions/thoughts/ideas feel free to leave a comment or say in tags (pspsppsps come brainrot with meeee)

#qsmp philza #qsmp cellbit #archivists #dont mind me im just rambling #im specifically trying to come up with an au because i feel like a lot of my creative burnout recently has to do with the fact that ive-#-been stressing about my fics being canon-compliant and up-to-date with and accurate to the Lore as well as my characters being in-characte #-with a deep understanding of each character's lore when that is!! really hard to do!! considering how many characters there are and how-#-many hours of vods there are and the fact i still need to do Life things sometimes.#so writing an au allows me to be more flexible with the characterization (while still incorporating the integral aspects of the characters)#-AND i dont have to worry about being 100% up to date with the lore if the fic literally takes place another world!!#currently the main problem is COMING UP with the au lol #anyway that's enough out of me i love these guys im going CRAZY #also i should mention this post is NOT proofread lol

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jazeswhbhaven · 4 months

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Beel, Are You Srs Brah? WHB Event React Part 2 *Spoiler Warning*

Stop right there you! Dre requires that you check out part 1 first ->

If you've already seen it, then let's proceed!

We left off where our three Avisos bois had to show their proof of having piercings done by Beel! Poor Stolas is all like-

Well bby, no one really thinks they're gonna be flashing folks their nipples lmao it's okay

Oh???? Okay Amon.... But no seriously....his skills? That must mean Beel is really good at painless piercings. And if that's the case, I want him to pierce some parts of me too. And a secret piercing that only he and I will enjoy *wink*

ANYWAYS

Amon...honey. You are preaching to the choir because Beel's hands anywhere on me is possibly a experience.

Nabe always has to be the logical one lol. Such a sweetie though.

(btw someone pointed out that his chest is really generous...and I looked at his sprite again and I'm like you whore...no wonder you cover up your tits.)

He explains once more that Beel gives these piercings to citizens that are of age and that have been accepted into the community of Avisos. It makes me wonder if that's a thing that not all devils know about because... *SPOILER ALERT FOR MAIN*

Leamas told everyone in Gehenna he was from Avisos. But as far as we know...when Gabriel turned him into a demon as a disguise he didn't add any piercings, just horns. So if anyone knew this info about Avisos, they could have caught Leamas in his lie ahead of time. But you know there wouldn't be a story without that.

As we continue, Nabe points out that it's best to sit near the bartender so they can get the info they need right? Well our happy go lucky fanboy found an area where it was marked "Beel sat here" basically so that is where he chose to sit-

Lol Amon is so goofy. If Beel had 0 fans, Amon would be his number one stan still til the very end.

But Stolas is annoyed with him because he wasn't being so secretive. They're mostly afraid of Beel catching wind of them trying to track him down.

While Amon is over here fanboying about Beel sitting in the same seat he's sitting on, Nabe and Stolas are trying to figure out how they can look inconspicuous while asking for info. So they decide to call the waiter over and they order food and drinks.

Here they're called 'sets' so I'm guessing some kind of drink/food combo and there's even one named after Beel visiting there!

Also, Amon straight up just asks the waiter if Beel said where he was gonna go, and while Stolas and Nabe are clearly thrown back by his straightforward way of getting this info. It works.

So, the Gambling House and the Cosplay Cafe??? Hm. That's way more info that they had in the beginning so score 1 for Amon!

I can't help but feel there was more that Beel said, but yeah maybe the waiter was like tldl (too long didn't listen)

Now that they got their info, Nabe suggested that they pay and leave. But Amon wanted to finish his set, and the waiter came back outta nowhere and told him the rules of the pub was you couldn't leave until you finished all of your food. That even Beel followed that same rule.

Now, I get that it's a rule. But both of them grabbed Nabe's hands to keep him from leaving and I was like damn it's like that T^T

But this would be an issue for me though. I have tummy problems so overeating usually means I'm gonna have a bad time. I love having leftovers so I can portion it out so maybe I'd have one of the three eat it for me ;_; lol

Awh look at Stolas, defending his comrade.

may I add that he did it thuggishly

Also, he calls out Amon about how he said earlier that he couldn't eat without Beel and Amon is just over on his side still fanboying about being in the same seat as his Majesty xD

The waiter that got all ballsy comes back with the food and holy fuck is it a lot.

5 plates for the normal set, and 10 plates for the special set that Amon ordered.

Yeap I'm never ordering food from that place only drinks because bitch I cannot eat 5 plates of food even when I haven't eaten all day.

Like I don't care they're technically snacks, imagine eating 5 plates of mozzarella sticks (about 50 sticks per plate) Back to our bois and their big ass snack plates, Amon is happy to get his stuff, and asks the waiter if anything fun happened. The waiter recollects that Beel brought in a huge sack

No really knew what was inside the sack, moreso that Beel asked them to make a meal with it (intensely stares at Beel's chest again in the screencap....)

He's covered in fucking blood and the sack was dripping. I could only guess it was an angel in that sack or something.

But when Stolas asked, now all of these different ideas start poppin' off from the pub workers lmao

Bartender: angel with it's wings ripped off Waiter: the chopped body of his dead comrade Customer sitting next to them: a pile of devil worshipper hearts that he smuggled from the human world (okay this is believable) So Stolas is trying to figure out which statement is right, Nabe is wondering why ppl jumped in the convo to begin with and the waiter swears he's right, but the bartender says his source is the chef who cooked the meal for Beel and the random customer heard it from a friend

Nabe had it with their shit so he tells them to go fight away from them and they do. Amon brings up that the rumors are so wild because Beel is simply just an overwhelming experience to behold.

I mean he wouldn't be wrong about that...I'd probably make up random rumors if I experienced a fucking hot sexy demon in my room.

Also poor Amon, bby is eating over 10 plates of snacks and he's still hungry. Nabe brings up the fact it makes no sense to stay alive after starving for months. (don't be mean)

So while all this mess is going on, Stolas and Nabe both take a bite and realize that the food tastes amazing.

Now everyone is happy and full and ready to go on to the next place. The Gambling House!

But, not before we see our babes getting the 'itis' from eating a bunch of food. (i get this way too sometimes) Basically they just feel really sleepy after having a large meal.

Amon's wide awake now though. And still hungry.

And....here we go. The motherfucking bill

Turns out...Beel left open a tab and since our bois are under him they have to pay the tab off.

Ain't that a bitch lmao

Bael didn't warn them about this, and the waiter was not letting them leave without paying. So poor Nabe had to foot the bill.

I just like how the doorman was like "bye" when they left lmao that's my energy when at work -_-

I feel bad for our Avisos bois because they basically felt like someone pulled one over on them and I don't blame them for feeling some kind of way about this.

Anywhoozle the mission continues and Stolas turns back into a crow and they said he 'walked' ahead hehee

Aye, Las Vegas vibes okay I see the vision...

Here they describe that the devils in this area resembled the maffia like in the human world. Having serious expressions, some carrying guns, some looking like they were on the run, all that good stuff. This also appears to be the main streets instead of the back alleys which is where we were before with our bois.

Damn we out here sellin' drugs just like that? I mean I understand we're in Hell and in Avisos but geez man

Take the red pill or blue pill type of mess

He even said it's not his fault if you get fucked up by taking the red stuff xD alright uh should of took the blue stuff

Our drug dealer devil out here just making bank, and then he sees a pair of feet of a potential customer...but it was our lovely angel hunter boi instead.

Again, another damn angel in disguise. I wonder how many there are in Hell right now?

But clearly, they know of Dre, because he was shaking in fear.

Dre essentially asks the angel to come see him in the back alleys away from the main streets and whelp this angel is getting f u c k e d up.

I mean like Dre ripped off three of four limbs (only one arm left), and his wings were a tattered mess. The angel was barely breathing too. What's even crazy is that Dre was like 'this is my fourth question'

Meaning his body was already mangled by the 2nd question. The angel is crying and asking what he even did when he answered truthfully and Dre bends down to stare at him with all that hatred in his cloudy eyes.

We don't know it yet, but someone Dre loved deeply perished by angels, so he doesn't give a fuck about the fake drug dealer.

At first I was wondering who he was talking about. But it seems...we all find out soon who he was referring to.

Dre decides to tell this barely alive angel that he's following our Avisos bois. And it's no surprise that the angels are tailing them too.

Dre says here that Beel is the only one who can end the war and I've had a couple of discussions about this already with a couple oomfs and it's interesting that a devil from Niflheim is loyal to Beel. Even says that he's the one who can truly stop the war.

And here is when we get our answer to who made Dre blind. Raphael...our little psycho angel did this, and Dre is on a mission to make sure he gets revenge. Only he can do this and he would not want anyone else to.

While he explains his reasons though that creepy grin of his shows up hahaha each time it comes up on the screen it's like an amusing nightmare fuel. Possibly fuel for a classic creepypasta story like 'Smile Dog'

But we're done seeing Dre fucking around with the angel that's pretty much gonna die for being in the way so we're back at the Gambling House with the bois! Only to be met with-

Stolas threatening Amon once again (˃̣̣̥▽˂̣̣̥)

I swear Amon just doesn't leave him alone...Stolas only said it's been a while since he'd been there, and Amon is like "this isn't a place for children"

But yeah after their little banter Nabe starts feeling a bit bad for Bael having to deal with all this mess in the first place and Stolas has like 0 empathy being like "it's his fault for doing all the work and not using his capable subjects" Sigh. Bael proably only wants to bother them when it's needed and feels like as the regent majesty he should be doing most of the foot work.

But, regardless it's brought up again that this Gambling House is a place where many can enter for free, but no one ever leaves this place on their own. Beel was able to leave, so our bois figure they can do the same.

So much, that Amon fucking went in without Stolas or Nabe lol

So it looks like a casino on the inside. Pretty fancy and standard if I say so myself even though I've never been in one. I don't think I ever will because I give up way too easily on things like this win or loose haha.

But the way this place is described, it's huge...big as a mini city almost. It makes me think that maybe people just get lost in here and that's why you never leave. They have everything you could ask for in there. Pubs, souvenir shops, it was quiet, clean, no cigarette butts or empty bottles.

Stolas and Nabe even witnessed a devil drop a piece of paper and a small fist sized devil picked it up for him and whispered to him

Don't worry sir. There's no need to be concerned about trivial things like this. There's no need to care about them.

Focus on paying off your debts, win more money. Focus The devil was basically in a zombie like state too.

Right Nabe, it honestly reminds me of fucking Maromi from Paranoia Agent...

It isn't your fault.

Take a rest...Take a rest...

LOL (this is one of my fave series, but also one of the most mildly disturbing dark content)

Anyways

So Stolas and Nabe are going over how they think the building is a trick of a devil that can make a small area expand. Nabe looks over the area and the devils seem to be...in a hive mind?

That's how I took it anyway, all going in the same direction, all going to the same goal...

Then Amon shows up and calls them hobos lmao

Nabe isn't happy that Amon wandered off again, but he went to the souvenier shop and it turns out he won himself a Beel keychain (how cute) It's even one of those plush keychain things too.

Amon was calling the devils hobos because someone apparently hit the jack pot and they were all clamoring to see if they could borrow money from that said devil.

Nabe gets on to Amon for spending all his money on the keychain when he could have helped at the pub paying the bill. But Amon says it's worth it, I believe him. But the scummy thing about it is to even get the souvenier you have to gamble for it. That's how he lost all his money.

Nabe wanted to know the amount of money wasted and our fanboy ignores him like he didn't hear xD

So he blows it off and leaves him alone about it and Stolas admires that. Nabe simply states it's in the past and he can't do anything about it so why stress over it? (wish I had his mentality for most things like I'm tryingggg)

So Nabe and our other two bois decided to follow the crowd after feeling a bit uneasy about being at the Casino. Truly, it was only because Nabe felt like he had a bunch riding on the fact that he has 0 money...and this place was definitely made to exploit the common consumer.

But I believe in our bois.

So when they reached the front doors, that same little Maromi vibes devil is like :D ah you look so lucky and so are your companions, please good luck to you.

And the three are nervous as fuck lol

So, while they're trying to scope out the place, Amon keeps trying wander off and it's because he's trying to find the highest ranking dealer. Nabe says they'd be in the VIP room and Amon flashes out a golden ticket.

Stolas thought he stole it but he met the requirements after getting the Beel keychain. Nabe asks him once more how much he spent and Amon ignores that question again lmao

The small devils notice that he has the VIP ticket though and now they're riding on 3 red chairs being treated like royalty and now Nabe really wants to know how much he spent. I'm curious too lol

Oh see... Nabe is just jelly that he has the keychain xD I don't blame him it sounds like it's a really cute item.

He even curses himself for wanting it so badly because he's broke, poor thing.

SO here's the fucking VIP room and wow....like Amon you big spenda take me here on a date <3 (i'm joking because honestly it sounds like one could easily lose their money here) It even has like a mini bar, snacks, the works. A fucking chocolate fountain??? Yesss

So how it works in the VIP room for customers is they pick the games, it gets set up there.

Now....we introduce our lovely dealer that Beel handpicked himself.

They even mentioned when he came to visit the VIP room he played a game with her.

Uh huh....a 'game' alright.

So here's a decription of our miss dealer: alluring smile, a small mole next to her lips, clothes so tight they hug her figure

Yes Stolas, thanks for pointing out the obvious that your king is a pervert lmao

But hey he knows what he wants and Miss Dealer is it. She explains that she's going to play a simple game with them, right and then-

Her titties are tittying and it makes me think of how Beel likes it when ppl wear clothes that are too small/tight for them and I'm thinking it's for that effect.

But Miss Dealer does this so you're distracted by the titties. Classic.

But Amon is straight up like "Hey when do you get off work?"

For me I was like AYO WHAT

Nabe apparently was not amused by this, but hey it looks like she's contemplating the idea....

Another stopping point once again!!!

Take a bathroom break, refill on your snick snacks and meet me in the next post!! <3

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb event #whb beelzebub #whb stolas #whb naberius #whb amon #whb avisos bois 💚#game playthrus🖤#whb andrealphus #part two is done...time for three!#amon is cute here #dre is hot

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