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spiltscribbles · 3 years

Note

Prompt: Pro Athlete Sirius because that my and Remus' kink

~Notes: OMFG VICTOrIA!!!! I FUCKING SCREECHED!!!! lkadfjlaksdgjoiaejfalskdgjioeugisfkldshg Yes tis my kink as well!!! And then I saw this from Nonny and worlds collided and BOOM! I hope you like this my love<3<3 You incredibly talented sugarplum!!! TBH I want to write a thousand more things in this AU XD

FROM THIS LIST | Send Me A Prompt!💜 | A REBLOG MEANS THE GALAXY!!💜

When Remus was young— surrounded by the light breeze of the Welsh coast and the harmony of birds chirping in the distance— he would follow his mother to their small garden behind their cottage at the cusp of twilight as his father cooked their supper, and he’d watch as she laid flat all sorts of newspapers written in French and Arabic and English, watch as she brought her red pen against the ink and marked the articles with underlines and shorthand he wouldn’t understand for years still.

He asked her once, when he was barely eight years old, why she bothered to keep up with so many different publications, why she read the same story penned by countless perspectives when all the facts stayed the same at the end of the day. And he remembers how she had let out a quick, shrill of a laugh, tossing back her golden head while sucking in a puff from the bubbling hookah she had set up besides her— a habit she acquired from her Algerian, refugee parents, and one that became synonymous to those late nights in Remus’s eyes.

“Facts can be wielded to someone’s personal vendettas, Remus John,” she had crooned in that adoring way of hers whenever she spoke to him— honey eyes that were the same color and shape to Remus’s own flashing alight and their matching smiles going crooked in her stunningly beautiful face.

“Oh.” Remus had replied, still confused as all get out but was perfectly fine with just holding his small vigil, watching her beneath moonlight and the soft glow of their outdoors lamps, as he listened to the shuffling of papers while she commenced this odd quirk.

It’s a decade and a half later— as his editor for the Phoenix, a small, but bustling online editorial that plans on dethroning the likes of Politico and Vox in only a matter of years, scans his latest findings on the corrupt boosters linked to MP Avery from Leeds— when Remus thinks he suddenly understands what his mother, with her keen eyes and pixelated air, had meant by facts in how they can be colored differently simply by the words surrounding them. And he wonders if one day soon, one of his bylines will join her little stack of stories, if she’ll be proud of him even if she says as much even now, when he’s a lost twenty-something stumbling through life in the capitol and barely making it as is, between his actual job and the gig he has at the coffee shop nearest his dingy flat he shares with three other blokes.

“Mmm, this is good, Lupin,” Dorcas declares after what feels like an eon, dropping her long, dark legs from where they were lounging leisurely on her desk and scuffs out her cigarette in a pretty, glass ashtray. “Send it over to Flores to look into deeper, maybe it’ll corroborate the info she’s already gotten from her sources.”

Remus feels himself bristle, hopes that it doesn’t show, that his face stays passive as he contends, “I think I should at least help her write the expose, I’m the one who got this bombshell.”

“That’s not how it works, sweets,” Dorcas toots, tossing back her dark head of curls as she rises, perching on the corner of her desk delicately and looking down, straight into his gaze. “I know it’s frustrating, but you’re fresh blood. barely six months here, but Alice has been with us for years. This is her baby, and we’re just here to nurture it.”

“So I’ll have to wait another ten months, at least, to get the same treatment?” He argues in an admittedly petulant way, making Dorcas laugh endearingly, and Remus is suddenly, searingly reminded of his age, and how he’s the youngest staffer that this London based news outlet has on hand.

“C’mon, love, it won’t be that long for someone as sharp as you, just be patient, and don’t try to pull a Zoe Barnes on us, yeah? You’re far too pretty to clean up on the rails of the tube.” Dorcas tousles a hand into his dark tawny curls, and Remus holds back the roll to his eyes that he feels willing up inside of him as he stands fully.

“Thanks Cas.”

She smiles beatifically, and throws him a wink. “You’re joining Emmy for the report tomorrow on those United footballers and their fundraiser for the hospital, yeah?”

“Bright and early,” Remus replies, still feels a bit miffed that he was chosen to write up the charity function, considering he doesn’t know a lick about football and doesn’t really get on with anyone who does. But Caradoc— their typical sports reporter— is out sick with the flew, so it’s on him. “I’ll have it on your desk early enough so it’ll be published by tea time.”

“Good man,” Dorcas says in thanks, picking up her crowing cellphone before waving him off.

Remus isn’t all that surprised when he strides out of the office only to find Benjy Fenwick sitting against the opposite wall, knees pressed to his chest and quickly scrambling up when he catches sight of Remus. Sometimes it’s impossible to believe that the bespectacled man in front of him is one of the top editors for the Phoenix, that he’s a regular corespondent for places like the BBC or CNN— that his rebukes against the piss poor inquiries waged during PMQs have become more anticipated than the sessions themselves. Remus tends to forget all of that when he sees him like this, messy haired and wearing a graphic T-shirt with some marvel superhero embossed on the front. “Wotcher Remus.”

“Hiya Remus says, smiling softly and rocking back on his heels. “You wanted to talk to the sergeant then?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. I didn’t want to talk to Dorcas, I just— Erm, I know you were showing her that stuff you got from that intern, Pettigrew, and i know you were chafed about not getting any opportunity here so—“ He trails off, scratching the back of his head and studying a point over Remus’s shoulder, and it’s all too endearing, and Remus is so beyond thankful he’s made such a good friend here.

“No cigar,” he says in answer to the unspoken question, shrugging noncommittally even if he feels like shit over it.

Benjy nods, face contrite in a way that tells Remus he never thought it would’ve went otherwise. “I’m sorry, that’s bollocks.”

“’S whatever,” Remus shrugs off the apology, begins walking down the hall and straightening his report to hand over to Alice.

“Ah,, erm. We can get a drink, yeah? In commiseration,” Benjy offers, and Remus stilts only for a beat before continuing the twisting trail to where Alice is set up with the more senior members on staff. And he feels only sorta bad about wanting to refuse. He knows that if he says yes, it’ll mean something different to Benjy than it does him, that he’ll probably take it as Remus finally giving into his pestering and deciding to actually go out with him, even if he’s refuted the other four times he’s asked as much. Remus’s simply just too busy trying to get a footing in this city, and trying to figure out where he’s suppose to go from here, and what he’s suppose to do. And yes, Benjy is cute— a complete Seth Cohen archetype. And he’s sweet and smart and funny enough. But Remus is really not in the mood for doing the whole flowers and wine and candle lit dinners shtick, had gotten enough of that while still with his university boyfriend. And yeah, he’s only just turned 24, but he already feels too old and too jaded for that sort of puppy love— even if Benjy’s got a good decade and some change on him.

Probably sensing his hesitation, Benjy is quick to rectify the offer. “I’ll ask Mary, and Fabian too, and a few others. We can make a night of it, just some drinks on a Friday after work.”

Stalling by the last turn to Alice’s desk, Remus looks at him from over his shoulder, and sort of hates himself for being such a soft hearted fuck sometimes. “Yeah Benj, sounds nice. Just let me know on the group chat, yeah?”

Benjy grins, much more genuine than his awkward quirk of the lips from earlier. “Yeah, good call, I’ll let the others know pronto.”

“Aces,” Remus says, tosses him a obligatory thumbs-up before finding an expectant looking Alice who’s tapping her foot impatiently.

Yeah, today is so bloody shit.

Surprisingly, the round of drinks turns to another and then a third and fourth and Remus is currently nursing his fifth mango margarita on Benjy’s tab, and he actually feels lighter than he has since taking the job at Phoenix, feels bright and bubbling and like absolutely nothing could be wrong as long as he’s got this drink in his grasp and he’s sitting with the handful of reporters and photographers from the office that don’t all have sticks up their asses. It’s fun, it’s good. So obviously it couldn’t have lasted.

Mary is currently cackling about her Uber driver from last night who asked her all sorts of well meaning, but incredibly dense questions about her hijab— a freshly poured glass of coke in one hand, while the other is tangled into her girlfriend Emmy’s. And From his left Remus can hear Fabian ribbing Frank on his crush on Alice, while Benjy scoots intermittently closer as they watch Kingsley and Marlene sparring over something to do with a Kardashian or TikTok trend or whatever the fuck else— The guy has resilience, Remus has to give Benjy that.

“Right, who’s buying next?” Marlene asks, abrasive as ever while scrolling through her phone, ostensively finding something to prove her point against the managing editor.

“Reckon it’s my turn,” Benjy crows, standing up smoothly and glancing down at Remus with a nervous sort of half grin.

“Just a water for me, ta. I need to sober up,” Remus tells him, feels proud that he didn’t even slur slightly. Benjy bobs his head understandingly, and Remus turns to ask Marlene about her latest tinder hookup which always is a good laugh, but then he catches on it. On the sound of the pub’s doors flinging open, followed by a raucous crowd of athletic looking guys probably only a bit older than he is, clambering indoors.

They’re all so very sixth-form, broad grins and slapping each other’s shoulders with jeers, topped off with loud, bark like laughter that makes it obvious to Remus that these wankers think that they’re some sort of group of gods amongst men, roaming around like everyone should fall to their feet and offer everything they have. It makes Remus roll his eyes so far back that it feels like he might’ve sprained them. They just give off this exhausting aura that reminds him of a past boyfriend in tenth year who was on the footie team and who’s favorite activity was either making Remus feel lucky enough to go out with someone so popular, or dragging him around like some sort of bloody trophy.

To put it nicely, Remus sorta hates them on sight. So when he sees one of the tossers— regrettably the brightest of the lot who’s all pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste in an objectively infuriating matter— swivels up to the barkeep and jostles Benjy on his way, well Remus doesn’t hesitate to dart forwards to tell him off.

“Oi, watch where you’re going, yeah?”

Benjy and the bloke who looks like he might moonlight as a model for Calvin briefs for when he’s not lounging in a yacht off the Tuscany coast, both turn to him at the same time. Benjy looking abashed, and the aforementioned tosser preening like the cat who’s just caught a canary.

“Sorry, love. Didn’t see you there,” he says in a delightfully deep tenner, giving Remus an appreciative once over, and Remus absolutely despises how the action makes him feel both thrilled and irritated. “Trust and believe, I wouldn’t have looked away if I saw you.”

“Not me, arse.” Remus spits back, refuses to pay any credence to how his cheeks have begun to flush. “You bumped into my mate right there, the one with the tray of loggers.”

The tosser darts his almost molten gray eyes over to Benjy for a sparing second before he laser focusses back onto Remus, the most phony expression of contrition all over his face. “Sorry to your friend,” he says the descriptor like a joke that no one else is in on. “Let me buy you a drink in sorry for the one I made slim here spill.”

Remus is officially unimpressed, hopes that his flat tone gets it across. “You’re an arse.”

“You’re mouthy,” he retorts, looks like it’s something he greatly appreciates— delights over even.

“Ah, ’s fine Remus, really. I’ll just bring these back and get us a new glass.”

“Listen to slim, Remus, he’s got the right idea.” The tosser hurriedly interjects, strutting close enough to him that he makes it so Remus has to tip his head back just slightly so not to drop his gaze. “I’m Black, Sirius Black, just to get the pleasantries out of the way.” His leer tells Remus that the name should probably evoke some response of aw into Remus, but all it does is make him sound so egregiously pretentious that Remus wants to smack his own bloody head against a dry wall and stay in the hole until this ruddy Sirius bloke leaves him the hell alone.

“Good for you,” he says instead of all of that, and spots Sirius’s friends from behind Sirius chuckling and elbowing one another. Evidently this is a line the tosser uses frequently, and Remus is pleased that he might be one of the first who aren’t at all impressed by the grandiose way he introduced himself.

“Hah, you know I’m use to the pretty ones playing hard to get, but I’m really feeling here that you’re not exactly liking my company, love.”

Remus sucks in a frustrated breath through his nose, shouldering past Sirius and taking the tray of drinks from Benjy before storming back to their table where the others have begun openly gawping at the scene— Marlene outright squawking with Fabian just as Remus takes his seat.

“Don’t,” Remus warns them all as he silently says fuck off to the water and instead gargles down one of the loggers. And if he has to steadfastly not turn around for the rest of the night towards where he can feel Sirius’s gaze burning into his back— well then so be it.

The next morning, Remus has to puke twice into the toilet, and gulps down three aspirins just to stave off his bloody hangover from the night before where he decided that getting properly sloshed would prove as a good technique to not end up making out with Sirius in some dark corner— or regrettably the backseat of his car. And if he does still remember flashes of ranting to him about how insufferable preppy, rich boys actually are while Sirius gazed at him endeared— well Remus just decides to purge it out along with the stomach acid. It’s not like he’ll ever see the douche again.

He meets Arthur— one of the accountants who also helps out by taking photos for more low key news stories— outside the hospital where the conference will be taking place with the Manchester United team. There was a scrimmage that they all played with some of the kids in the cancer ward that occurred at around eight in the ruddy morning, but thankfully Remus didn’t have to show up until an hour later when the team presented their big shiny check, to the big, shiny hospital.

However, Arthur has been here for hours, so he’s beyond chirpy and looks like he’s downed three cups of espresso as he chatters on about his son Percy starting secondary school, and his eldest, Bill, getting an award for his reading prowess, and all the strange craving his wife has been having throughout her pregnancy with the twins they’re expecting any week now. And Remus loves Arthur, he does— one of the sweetest folks he’s ever met— but God, his head is still thrumming from those misguided tequila shots and he really just wants to get his three quotes, and write up the story so he can find refuge back in his sheets.

While Arthur has moved to talking about his wife, Molly’s, plans to open up a daycare in their refurnished garage, Remus scans his eyes over the familiar face of reporters from other outlets who look just as bored as him, and then to the stage where a woman in a sharply pressed suit is ushering for the group of football stars to join her, so that the conference can finally fucking begin.

And Remus thinks that their faces are sorta familiar, probably from all the publicity they get on the telly— but then he freezes as he stops at one of them with dark brown skin, and thick rimmed spectacles— and he suddenly can hear him chatting about his redheaded girlfriend and drunkenly declaring that she’ll be the mother of his children some day soon. So he completely expects it when his stomach drops as he moves his glance just a bit to the right, being struck by pearly teeth, and glittering eyes and incredibly impressive shoulders that tape off to a narrow waste, made all the more infuriating by the tight kit he’s got on and the blazing number twelve splayed against his chest.

And fuck.

Remus runs through about a dozen scenarios in which he can make a discrete, or not so discrete exit before he notices him, but in tandem to his spiraling thoughts, the wanker actually looks forwards, and like a creepy metal detector, his quick silver gaze pinpoints onto Remus.

They stare at one another for a beat before his smirk goes wolfish, and he runs a hand through his artfully tousled hair in a way that practically screams, fancy meeting you here. And holy fuck he looks so mouth watteringly attractive with that faint film of sweat running down his neck, and how his smile pulls slightly more to the left, and how he’s looking at Remus like he’s his birthday and Christmas presents all rolled into one.

Remus suddenly hates everything— but most of all hates Sirius, and how bloody fit he is.

“Oh, you’re a fan then?”

Starting, Remus shifts around slightly so that he’s facing Arthur completely. “Pardon?”

“Sirius Black I mean, you’re a fan?” Arthur asks in that abrasively congenial and intensely scrutinizing way that he treats everything. “I mean he’s a great player, but I know you don’t really watch. So I bet it’s all that charity work he does, yeah?”

“Charity work?” Remus echos, feeling like a floundering fish.

“Truly some amazing stuff.” Arthur pontificates, rubbing a hand against his jaw as he tips his head back. “I mean obviously I’m partial to the fundraising for Reporters Without Borders, but of course the things he does with the more impoverished kids is great. And I know Molly likes his very outspoken posts about being anti war and his annual live streams to earn money for refugees in those war torn nations, like the last one he did for Syria?”

“Oh—“ Remus says, feeling like his head is being overrun by a fountain of new information.

“Yes well, you don’t usually see athletes get into the thick of it with political issues, but I reckon he never really minded. I mean the fact he’s the first football star from United to have come out without any fanfare really proved that. Oh, I think they’re starting, I should probably get some photos before Dorcas gives me a tongue lashing.”

And as quick as the flash of his camera’s lends, Arthur is using his considerable height to get to a more advantageous spot towards the front, and leaves Remus in the dust, as if he hasn’t just obliterated his every assumption of Sirius from after that initial meeting.

And unbidden, the words his mother had told him so many years ago, about facts and how they can color a situation just simply based off the person who’s speaking them— flood to the forefront of his mind.

“Fucking hell,” Remus mutters lowly, gets jostled by Greengrass, a hawkish reporter from a rivaling publication who always has on the most wickedly sharp acrylic nails, and perfectly quaffed curls— as she waves around her certification to speak her inquiry.

“My question is for Potter,” she announces when the woman leading the event, McGonagall, points her way. “And I was wondering how early you boys have to rise for training during the season? And how intense the sessions are that Coach Hooch puts you guys through?”

Potter, the one with the redheaded girlfriend that Remus heard so much about last night between his ranting at Sirius, parts his lips, but it’s not his voice that ends up reverberating through the outdoors space. Instead, it’s Sirius, who’s shouldering him with a goading air, obviously expecting his comment to have only ended up in Potter’s ear and not caught by the mike.

“I wonder if Lupin will let me wake up with’m so he can let me get some real training done before practices, eh?”

And just as soon as his words pitter off, the entire crowd drops to a hush— quiet enough so that they could probably hear it if a pen dropped.

Sirius’s handsome face— strong jawline, and broad but sharp cheekbones, and a long, narrow nose— goes suddenly ashen, and he flashes over to Remus as if he’s terrified that he’ll bite his face off.

God, what an idiot.

With a long suffering sigh, Remus plucks out the microphone from a slack faced Greengrass’s hand. “We can discuss the regimen afterwards, Black. Just meet me by the front doors and let your mate answer the bloody question.”

Everyone around them falls into laughter that’s caught between uncomfortable chuckles and amazingly amused cackling, but the only person Remus is paying any mind is Sirius, and how he seems to have gone absolutely incandescent, nodding electrically before miming the zip of his lips and gesturing for Potter to carry on.

Jesus help him, Remus has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

~My Wolfstar FIC Masterlist

~Buy Me A Coffee

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #SIRIUSXREMUS #REMUSXSIRIUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #THE HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #ILU Victoria!!!#also to anyone side eyeing the buy me a coffee plz do not judge me #i am so searing embarrassed about it #rip #just it's there i guess #calls;jalksdgjaeowifjsadlkgh #look away from me #!!!#lmfao #spilt ink

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None for this chap Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Sure, your soulmate may be a vampire (of sorts), but there's nothing that love can't conquer, right?... Maybe it's time you learn a little more about the odd circumstances of your soulmate's existence- and the fear that lies beneath the surface. Notes: If the last chapter was "hurt" followed by comfort, this is "comfort" followed by hurt, also known as the part where the story's central conflict comes into play. Features an appearance from Daniela, who reminds us that Cassandra's not the only one with a sharp tongue around here. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands, 3: Rumbling Thunder

4: That Which Burns

“Of all the stars, the fairest,” Bela murmurs in your ear, keeping her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, before giving you a gentle kiss on the cheek. If you hadn’t already been blushing, you certainly would have now done so. You’re leaning into her touch, face flushed as can be, loving every moment of this. For a while now you’ve been curled up with her, while she reads excerpts from her favorite works. Although both of you would have preferred to do this outside, enjoying the view of the stars, you figured it would be best not to push your health too much. After all, you had lost a huge percentage of your blood. Well, temporarily, but it was still better to be safe than sorry.

“That’s probably my favorite line from Sappho,” you chimed, fondly remembering some of your schooling. “Though the one about being remembered always stands out to me. I’m not sure I remember it correctly, and I’m sure it’s been translated a few different ways over the years… but I think it’s ‘someone, I tell you, will remember us in another time’. Might have gotten that backwards, actually.” Giving an awkward little smile, you sheepishly rub the back of your head with one hand. “Either way it feels so romantic. To think of a love so strong that it echoes throughout time, fondly remembered for generations… it warms the heart.”

“Mhmm, most definitely, my dear. Many aren’t as lucky, however,” Bela laments, an odd expression crawling onto her face. There’s the slightest waver to her lower lip as she speaks. Concerned, you turn in place to get a better look, gently reaching out to caress her cheek. Is there something I’m missing? You think, wondering what you should say. “I’m alright, I promise. Merely distracted by a fleeting thought. Let’s read another, yes?” Before you can protest, she’s already turned to another page, starting to read as if she already knew which one was next (which would not, at all, surprise you).

Love shook my heart, Like the wind on the mountain, Troubling the oak-trees

“Oh, if only I could speak Aeolic Greek, so that I could serenade you with tender prose, all the days of your life… just as it was originally written. Wouldn’t that be lovely?” Bela offers, once again smiling wide, as if nothing in the world was wrong, at least not when you were by her side. Though you are not keen to ignore her earlier stroke of misery, you are equally reluctant to put a damper on her current upswing. Now what were you to do? Little comes to mind, other than the simplicity of human warmth, and so you lean once more into her embrace, head held aloft on the strength of her shoulder.

“Here, as I am now, is more than lovely enough. Your voice is soothing in any language, sweet as sugar, relaxing as can be,” you reassure her in your softest tone. Heart fluttering, she finds herself easing back into the comfort of the moment, forgetting all about her earlier woes. “Shall we read another?” Nodding, Bela again turns the page and begins to read:

He’s equal with the gods, that man Who sits across from you, Face to face, close enough to sip Your voice’s sweetness

And what excites my mind, Your laughter, glittering. So, When I see you, for a moment, My voice goes,

My tongue freezes. Fire, Delicate fire, in the flesh. Blind, stunned, the sound Of thunder, in my ears.

Shivering with sweat, cold Tremors over the skin, I turn the colour of dead grass, And I’m an inch from dying.

“Does that make me equal to the gods, then?” You ask, as soon as the last line is given its moment to shine. A small hum comes from your soulmate, who seems equal parts intrigued and confused. “I look in your eyes and my lungs light on fire, my heart ricochets around my chest, and I hear the chorus of angels singing your holy praises. The fact that I can manage to speak at all is confounding. Maybe the muses have seen fit to lend me their artistry, so that I might make conversation worthy of your existence, my dear.” With that said, you find yourself being squeezed gently, Bela placing another kiss against the top of your head. Now, it seems she is the one without the ability to speak. “The divine witnessing the divine, yes?... Let me read the next one, and we’ll see if my voice could ever compare to your own.”

It’s innocent enough, your choice. A turn of the page, just another poem, selected for nothing more than respect for chronology. Yet something drains from the space around you as you begin to read, so subtly slow that you hardly notice.

Girls, you be ardent for the fragrant-blossomed Muses’ lovely gifts, for the clear melodious lyre: But now old age has seized my tender body, Now my hair is white, and no longer dark

How were you to realize that the great shadow of fear loomed over your soulmate, when she had refused to name it mere minutes ago? How were you to know to halt your reciting, when the aching of her heart rendered her throat dry, and she could not bring herself to call out to you? Words poured like poisoned wine from your lips… your soulmate having no choice but to drink up every last drop.

My heart’s heavy, my legs won’t support me, That once were fleet as fawns, in the dance I grieve often for my state; what can I do? Being human, there’s no way not to grow old

A shaky breath from age-old lungs, exhaled into tense air, forced out past a trembling jaw. Say something, Bela tells herself, any poem but this. For a split second you pause, and she wonders if her thoughts have found new light in your own mind. But you break the momentary silence without much care, simply having been unsure of your pending pronunciation of an old name, perfectly unaware of your partner’s panic.

Rosy-armed Dawn, they say, love-smitten Once carried Tithonus off to the world’s end: Handsome and young he was then, yet at last Grey age caught that spouse of an immortal wife

At last her ordeal was over. The final words hang heavy in the air, weighing down her shoulders, but they are done. Her fears had been dragged out from the pit in her stomach, now waving about like dirty laundry. There was only one way for her to avoid this happening another time: Tell you the truth. By now her silence had earned your attention, with you turning in her lap again, concerned gaze meeting her hollow one. Gently, she gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I… am not one to balk at the nature of things, however painful the truth. Yet I hesitate now, with the very person I am bound to with crimson ties… How cowardly of me,” Bela all but snarls, anger clearly not directed at you. It’s clear in the way that she holds herself that she has more to say. There’s not much you can do other than wait, though you do tuck an arm around her waist, beginning to rub soft circles against her back. “Allow me to drop the pretenses. You are not immortal, but I am. We’ve only been together for a day and a half, and already I’m worrying about your lifespan. It’s safe to say that this particular poem was an unfriendly reminder of our situation.”

Oh. How exactly were you supposed to respond to that?... Your girlfriend- your soulmate- was immortal. Hmph, as if her essentially being a vampire hadn’t already been enough to freak you out. Now this? Well, maybe it wasn’t too much farther of a stretch from the last revelation, even if you were still recovering from that one. Even then, something told you that this was equally hard for Bela- both to say, and to simply feel. As if she needed more stress surrounding her partnership with you…

“Of all the ways for us to mimic legends… I don’t even know what to say, my dear. I… I suppose that I can only reassure you that we will make the most of every moment we have. However much time we are destined to get, we’ll make sure it is filled with bliss,” you reply, slowly, making it up as you go. An ache builds in the center of your chest as you talk, an internal yearning for greater confidence. Although words were your “weapon” of choice, you were not always a master in your use of them, too human to be infallible. “Maybe we should set aside the poetry for now, shift our focus to something, ah, less meaningful?”

“That would be for the best,” Bela agrees, already shifting like she was going to stand up, before you even had a chance to get off of her lap. Something strange had fallen over her expression, an invisible veil, putting an uncomfortable distance between the two of you. Inside your chest, a thundering heart threatens to go still. Had you done something wrong? Did you commit some unspoken sin? Together the two of you rise, in sync yet more separate than before, a thousand questions and anxieties rendering both of you silent...

—————————

Across the room from you, a pair of bright eyes watch your every movement, peering out from over an open book. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought that the “ruse” was intentionally poor. But for all the five hours you had known her, Daniela Dimitrescu had done nothing other than prove herself odd, clumsy, and quite possibly… overconfident. Admittedly, that still made her undeniably more pleasant than Cassandra. If you had to be stuck alongside someone other than your soulmate, well, ‘twas best that it was this strange redheaded gremlin. Even if she had expressed an unfortunate interest in eating you.

Gods, what is wrong with this family? You think, frowning a tad, unable to stop yourself from making eye contact with Daniela. Instantly she’s looking away, pretending to be engrossed within her book. The very same book that had remained open to the same page for half an hour now. I do hope Bela is having more fun right now, with whatever “business” called her away so unexpectedly. She hadn’t seemed happy to have to leave your side, earlier tension notwithstanding. Coming here to the library had been her suggestion, though you doubted she knew that Daniela was there, or at least hadn’t anticipated her sister’s unnerving behavior. Already the redhead was looking back at you, even less subtly than before.

Sighing, you decided that you could only put up with so much of this tomfoolery.

“Are you in need of something? Or is there something on my face?” You ask, setting your own book aside as you do. There’s a few moments of silence, as Daniela glances around the room, as if you might actually be speaking to someone else. When no scapegoats teleport to her rescue, she very awkwardly clears her throat, then moves to sit at your table. Though you are loath to admit it, your heart starts beating faster as she approaches. Not out of attraction, hell no, rather fear. Perhaps getting her attention hadn’t been the wisest choice after all…

“I just think it’s funny,” Daniela chimes, trailing off just long enough to run a finger down the length of your arm, “that Bela abandoned you so quickly. You’re so… fragile. Cassandra told me about the fun little introduction you had to our family- the blood loss, being chained up, the fear you felt when you got caught in our territory.” Suddenly she’s devolving into a fit of giggles, hand resting not-so-gently on your wrist. When you try to pull away, her nails dig in, and her gaze snaps back to your own. “But you don’t remember that part, do you? If you did… oh, we’d have to lock you up, like the little pet you are, to keep you from running away. I’m sure Bela wouldn’t mind seeing you in chains.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You snap, uncharacteristically furious. While it was true that you couldn’t recall exactly how you made it into the castle’s dungeons, you refuse to accept Daniela’s implications about your soulmate, or her assessment of your dedication. A brief second passes where you think she’s about to lunge towards you. Instead, she withdraws her hand, moving it to prop up her chin instead. Then, her lips slowly drag upwards into a wicked grin, wide eyes filled with dangerous amusement.

“So you’re more than a wannabe Shakespeare, after all? A bit more teeth, a touch more vulgarity, maybe a twinge of bloodlust, and you might actually fit in around here. Not enough to get our family’s ‘gift’- our secret to a long, happy life- but enough that Bela won’t grow bored of your sappy poems,” she teases with another string of laughter. Before you can question her about this ‘gift’, she’s all but jumping to her feet, stretching out her arms as she does. “I can’t wait to update Cassandra about you. We’ll be betting on how entertaining you’ll end up being. Try to keep from bailing on my dear sister too soon, alright?”

Just like that she’s disappearing into a swarm of flies, leaving you more confused (and angry) than ever. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on what you need to do next: Find Bela. Talk to her. Get some goddamn answers.

#bela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #got some fluff got some angst #casual reminder that daniela is capable of being just as cruel as cassandra #just normally a different kind

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angellesword · 4 years

Text

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (SPECIAL CHAPTER)

⇒ a glimpse of life with Jeon Jeongguk now that you can see colors.

Pairing: Dad!Jungkook x Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Genre/Warnings: established relationship au, fluff, soulmate au.

Note: This is a special chapter for YOUR EYES TELL so it contains spoiler from said fic.

drabble: your eyes tell - special chapter part 2

The total solar eclipse, a black pearl necklace being auctioned for nine hundred two thousand dollars, and you glaring at Jeon Jeongguk.

These things were rare occurrences, but it looked like the last event you had mentioned would happen more frequently.

"I said no, Jeongguk."

Jeongguk. After being together for half a decade now, your husband still shuddered with fear every time you called him using his given name.

Why couldn't you just call him Gukkie? Did he fuck up so bad that you refused to coo his favorite nickname anymore?

"But—"

Your husband tried to reason out; however, when he saw how your glare became angrier, he stopped for a few moments.

Your cheeks were flushing. This didn't look good. You were making Jeongguk nervous.

"I really wanna move back to Seoul," he tried pouting his lips since he knew you could never resist his cute face.

He knew his plan was working when you suddenly clamped your eyes shut, refusing to look at him.

"I-It's not easy to just go back to the capital, Gukkie. Our life is literally here."

Here as in Busan. You and Jeongguk decided to settle down in his hometown the second you found out that you were pregnant.

You two figured that it would be best to raise your kid in a place where she could interact with nature. Busan was known for its beaches and mountains, unlike in Seoul where you would only be surrounded by tall buildings and hustlers.

Your kid shouldn't be in a stressful city at a very young age. Jeongguk knew this too, this was why you couldn't understand why he wanted to buy a house in Seoul.

"No, it's not." Jeongguk was still pouting while shaking his head. "You're a corporate lawyer and most businesses operate in Seoul. You barely have clients here."

He was right.

"Besides, Red wants to form a partnership with you. You know it's a good offer..."

You stayed quiet for a while, only biting your lower lip because you were aware that he made a point—a good point. But then again, you also knew that he wasn't saying these things for the advancement of your career.

He only wanted to go back to Seoul because "you want Chae-won to be close to Beomgyu, right?"

Chae-won. This was the name of your four year-old daughter. Chae meant color while won meant beginning.

You and Jeongguk thought that the name suited your daughter since Chae-won was made out of love, and love in your world signified the time you began to see the pretty hues.

"W-Well yeah..." Jeongguk was stuttering, trying so hard to find an excuse. "B-But it's also because I miss city life! I miss our friends! Don't you miss Jimin-hyung? Seokjin-hyung? Red?"

Jeongguk mentioned the Kim couple as if he was implying something. Admittedly, he had been trying to include them in literally every conversation you two were having, and the reason behind this was because of Beomgyu, the first born of Seokjin and Red.

Beomgyu and Chae-won were born in the same year. The former being three months older than your daughter. The two of them only met once since the Kims lived in Seoul—which was also the sole reason why Jeongguk wanted to move back to the capital in the first place.

Chae-won and Beomgyu met two weeks ago, meaning it had also been fourteen days since your daughter started seeing colors.

You could never forget that day.

Chae-won came crying to her father, hugging his left leg as if her life depended on it.

"B-Baby...what's wrong?" Jeongguk's face was pale. He could feel the tears pricking at his eyes.

He had always been like this. Jeongguk would cry when he saw his loved ones crying too.

"Appa! My eyes!" Chae-won used her free hand to rub her eye. She was doing it vigorously, as if she wanted to get rid of it.

"What happened to your eyes, my love?" You kneeled beside your daughter, stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her down.

It was obvious that your husband was losing his shit. At least one of you should try to stay calm, right?

"I-It's too bright, Mam..." Beomgyu was the one who answered on behalf of Chae-won.

You switched your gaze at Beomgyu, amazed because of how respectful he was. He was the only kid who called you Mam.

"Oh, my God..." Red suddenly gasped, covering her mouth when she realized something.

"D-Do you think they're..." Seokjin's wife stared at you, eyes widening as she trailed off.

"They're what?" Mr. Kim raised a brow, looking at his son and Chae-won.

"Soulmates?" Jeongguk supplied, unsure.

The four of you remained quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were Chae-won's sobs and Beomgyu's ragged breathing.

The four year-old boy didn't understand why his heart hurt so much just because Chae-won was crying. He wanted to wipe her tears away.

"Jeongguk..." You were the one who broke the silence. You glared at your husband because you felt like he just uttered the most absurd thing ever.

Sure, Jeongguk became a romantic when he finally accepted the idea of soulmates, but...wasn't he being a little too much?

Chae-won and Beomgyu were still young.

"I mean...it's a possibility, right? Chae-won started to cry when I told her to go play with Beomgyu." Jeongguk said, squatting to carry his baby girl.

You stood up, feeling a little uncomfortable with your position.

The six of you were inside the Kims' mansion. Red and Seokjin invited your family for dinner when they learned that you were in Seoul to attend Ji-eun's birthday party.

Actually, you would be staying here in Seoul for three days because Namjoon said he couldn't plan his daughter's birthday on his own. Even after four years, Namjoon was still chaotic as ever.

He refused to date, already happy with his life with Ji-eun.

"So are you saying that the world is so small that the daughter of my ex and my husband's former lawyer is the soulmate of my son?" Red chuckled, amused.

She wasn't sure whether to side with Jeongguk or not. But then again, they just couldn't ignore the mentioned possibility.

Fate always had its way of confusing the shit out of people.

"We can bring them to a doctor, if you want..." Seokjin blurted out, pulling Red closer to him as he patted his son's head.

Beomgyu was still staring at Chae-won, contemplating whether he should embrace her or wipe her tears away.

In the end, the little boy chose the former option, causing Jeonguk's heart to swell with so much happiness.

His happiness turned into joy when later that day, they found out that the kids were really soulmates.

"Of course I miss our friends," you finally answered Jeongguk's question after remembering what happened at the Kims' mansion two weeks ago.

"But I'm happy here, babe. Chae-won's friends are here. Her life is here. You know how much she likes visiting her grandparents whenever she pleases. She's born here, Gukkie."

Jeongguk bit his lower lip. He was the one who couldn't answer now. You made a point too.

"I say we let her decide where she wants to live. Chae-won is smart. She will know what her heart truly desires. Besides..." You went near Jeongguk, wrapping your hands around his neck.

He instantly encircled his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Our daughter is still young. Let her be a kid, babe. We can't force her to seek romantic love just because she found her soulmate,"

Jeongguk looked sad, his lips trembling.

"I-I know that..." He heaved a deep sigh. "I guess I'm just scared. I don't want Chae-won to go through the pain you had experienced because of me. I met you a little late, love. I don't think I can handle seeing our daughter cry because her soulmate is in love with someone else..."

"Oh, Gukkie..." You nuzzled his nose, kissing his cheek.

Jeongguk was left craving for more, and so he placed a kiss on your sweet lips.

"Chae-won and Beomgyu are meant to be together. I'm sure fate will find a way to bring them together..."

"Just like what happened between you and me?" Your husband's eyes were wide and sparkling, like he was seeking your approval.

"Yeah, maybe even better. Maybe Beomgyu will love our precious baby more than we love her..."

"But I am the one who loves Chae-won the most!"

You chuckled because Jeongguk looked so adorable, like he was competing with a four year-old kid.

Typical Jeongguk.

"I know. I love you..."

"I love you too." Jeongguk smiled, kissing you once more. "And I'm so glad you're my soulmate..."

MORE JJK FICS WRITTEN BY ME: EUPHORIA or check MASTERLIST

#jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #jungkook soulmate au #jungkook x reader #jungkook roommate au #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook fantasy au #daddy jungkook #husband jungkook #your eyes tell #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook

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haec-est-fides · 3 years

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God i am so glad to meet someone who also doesnt like the way new rome is portrayed but in a different way than me. Like i never understood why it was two praetors and not consuls? And I think in canon New Rome is only a few hundred strong not even a thousand like? Its not much of a city especially since they have generations of legacies, and youre telling me its basically a hamlet. And there are reinforcements from beyond the camp right like that pilot? And in the attack by Caligula and Tarquin, they had advanced warning from Leo right? And looking at a map of CJ it is a prime defensive position surrounded by running water that repels monsters, one main chokepoint, hills, A LITERAL GOD and we know they are fast engineers so they didnt build fortifications? Like if they know its zombies stand on top of a stone wall or behind a moat and snipe them with arrows. Its the same thing with SoN like there were no actual preparations for a proper defense and siege. Like Julius "built two giant encircling walls for one battle/siege" Caesar is rolling in his grave. And with all of that said even if they had New Rome would have been crushed in one day. The problem with demigods is they can be killed like any mortal and you are telling me Caligula didnt take advantage of modern weapons like bombers? Exploding the mostly empty fleet just leaves a whole army stranded and desperate and hey what do we have to lose right lets just take New Rome with our overwhelming numbers and give it to the only dude left who may award us. And i hate how they have written Octavian's role as augur like that was a super sacred and respected position. He had extreme political power since nothing political like elections could happen without the gods and therefore the augurs permission but everyone treats Octavian like a joke like no everyone should be courting his favor or at least not dissing him to his face. And they usually read bird signs so it feels like Rick just had octavian destroy the pillow pet to set him up as a jerk. And like, I can buy everyone who was loyal to Octavian just shutting up to avoid a civil war in series okay the last time a demigod civil war happened it left the world vulnerable and the gods were not happy and the cause for war was revealed to be a plan by Gaea amyways and CJ on a whole seems much more pious than CHB and they are focusing in bettering relations bw the two camps basically on orders from the gods which you cant do if your own camp in embroiled in a war and it is likely the seven will side with Reyna. But it is not very Roman admittedly to avoid avenging a beloved commanders death especially if in universe he is seen as the savior of rome. Prior to TTT Reyna should be facing significant political pressure at least if they were actually written as /roman/. Also disclaimer its been a while since ive read the books and i have mostly been lurking around for toa spoilers instead of actually reading them mostly because i find the whole premise of unnoticed immortal emperors ridiculous and it raises so many infuriating questions and they are basically noncanonical in my eyes but like Camp Jupiter and New Rome had so much potential Rome was known for its complicated politics and tactics but it was all squandered. And somehow CHB is run worse than this. And Riordans flippant humor towards the death and killing of characters is... questionable from a character pov especially. My attachment to this series is basically stockholm syndrome from childhood and the glimmers of good ideas. Sorry for the word vomit but i just really wanted to talk about my thoughts.

Hey anon? ily <3

Everything you just said is basically something I've thought at one point or another. I mean, a lot of these concerns are handwaved away because it is a book series for a younger audience, and Riordan -- like all authors must -- made certain choices, but I completely get how you feel. A decent handful of fans do, as I've discovered! ToA really brought out the Romans among us, haha.

I agree that the premise of ToA requires a big suspension of disbelief, but so does the premise for all of Riordan's books. I'd definitely recommend reading ToA if you have the time / interest!

#filodox!#asks #my ask box and messages are always open for discussions like these #i mean who hasn't read these books and then rewritten them in their head to feature more complicated and darker plotlines that #respect and explore new rome / camp jupiter more?#i want a civil war dammit!#i want political intrigue!#i want TWO civil wars!#i want the consequences of people's actions to MEAN something!#but yeah #oh hey anon have you ever watched hbo rome? i think you might like hbo rome

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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Long Distance Longing with the Brothers

Want a little angst and sweetness? I love how this turned out and I think it’s a new favorite for me. I honestly should wait to post it... But I have no patience, I love it too much. Weirdly enough, thank Taylor Swift’s new album for giving me this idea. Go figure. 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: Angst, implied starvation

Intro:

The brothers knew it was going to happen eventually. The year can't last forever, and at some point they were going to have to say goodbye to their human for the break… But that didn't make the situation any easier. Nobody likes being so far from the one they love. It was only a matter of time before our boys are reaching a breaking point...

Lucifer

Lucifer has never really had a reason to not to work before… Like, yeah there are those days where things get stressful and he takes a step back, but actually taking an extended period of time to just... not work? A "vacation" if you will? He’s never had the desire. What would he even do with himself?

Well, for the first time in literal God knows how many centuries, he had an answer for that question. He was going to be with MC.

And that's exactly what he told Diavolo when he finally accepted that missing the MC was negatively affecting his work.

He wanted a… "vacation."

Diavolo had never once thought Lucifer would ever ask, and to be fair the man never thought he would either, but he's more than happy to give his friend a few days off to visit his dear human.

Whatever brief hit that his pride took by having to admit that he needed a break was more than made up for by finally seeing the MC again. He knew he missed them, painfully aware of that fact, but just the sight of them waiting to meet him outside the portal was enough to nearly take his breath away…

His first vacation was sure to be paradise.

Mammon

Oh, the distance was killing this poor boy. Any day where he can’t have the MC on his arm feels worse than when he's on a losing streak…

Speaking of a losing streak, he's been stuck in one for a whole month without his beloved partner in crime with him. Did he lose his lucky charm or was he just too down in the dumps to gamble well? Anyone's guess.

Well he got fucking sick of it. He wanted to see the MC, ASAP. But how would he get to the human world…?

It takes a week but he gets an idea. It took another for it to actually trigger.

Like clockwork one of the witches he's regularly in debt to, one that just happens to be a bad gambler herself, summoned him out to give her a little extra luck. Usually, he'd just kick whatever slot machine she’s parked herself at and be done with it but this time he's got to ask… How long does that summon spell last, eh?

He made a new sort of bargain. She gets to take Goldie out for a spin if she gave him some time in exchange… 24 hours to be exact.

He didn't waste a second after striking the deal because he had a lot of flying to do.

The MC probably didn't expect to hear frantic knocking on their door at the break of dawn, nor to find a beat tired and disheveled Mammon leaning outside it….

But he embraced them for all it's worth anyway. If it meant feeling them in his arms again, he'd trade away the whole world if he had to...

Leviathan

He… didn’t do so well with the distance. Like at all. He'd mope around the house, constantly bemoaning how unfair things were. Not even his favorite games can give him any joy because those were the games he used to play with MC…

Sneaking in the occasional video call was pretty much the only thing that could make him smile anymore. Just seeing their face felt like getting a cold drink in the middle of a scorching desert… But he wanted more.

Thankfully, the MC themselves gave him a really, really good idea…

For two weeks straight, Levi seemed to get out of whatever funk he was in to help out around the House… Like, really help out. Suck-up levels of help out. It creeped everybody out...

After a time he finally approached Lucifer and made a simple request. There was an anime convention going on in the human world soon and he'd like to attend…

The ulterior motive for this little visit is practically written on the wall, but he'd been acting so damn unnerving for the past two weeks Lucifer just gave him permission to make him stop.

When the MC agreed to meet him on the opening day, they said they'd be dressed up as someone he'd recognize. Frankly, he was expecting Henry or maybe Ruri-chan but he was completely floored to see them waiting for him dressed in a familiar black hoodie with coral-like horns on their head and a carefully crafted serpent's tail behind them.

To this day he still can't decide what made him happier: seeing the love of his life so adoringly dressed as him or finally feeling their body collide with his after they came running to each other outside the convention hall...

In the end it probably doesn't matter because for that whole day alone, he finally felt like he had everything he could of ever wanted right there with him.

Satan

Satan's not one for idle moping so when he felt that yearning in his chest finally hit a tipping point, he didn't whine. He didn't complain. He got up and did something about it.

Teleportation magic is tricky to master and dangerous to perform even with sufficient skill. One wrong move and you could end up smearing yourself across three different continents…

But like that would stop him.

He pulled out every book he could find on the subject, researched for days, then practiced for weeks. First on books and apples, then on some of Lucifer’s belongings.

He had to keep making new excuses to throw Lucifer off the scent (especially after he started sending some of his shirts away to different parts of the house) but after some time, it finally paid off.

Satan was probably the last person the MC would have expected to see show up in their room randomly one night, sitting casually by a lamp and reading a book like he didn't just master time and space just to come say hi.

But who was going to be all that picky when they could finally shower their nerdy cat-lover in all the love and kisses they've both been missing for months now?

Asmodeus

If you took Asmo at his word, then the sheer depths of longing and despair he was experiencing while the MC was away could far outweigh that of anyone else to ever have existed in the history of all time.

He was the Avatar of Lust, desire was in his nature. Couple that with a burning need to have his lover as close to him as he possibly could and it was safe to say he was losing his mind!

This might have been the reason Solomon finally gave in after his 16th-ish time trying to beg the sorcerer to help him. He really was quite pitiful in this state...

When Solomon told Asmo that he could smuggle him out of the teleportation gate between the Devildom and human world ONLY if he could magically disguised his appearance, he was kind of expecting Asmo to refuse. This was Asmo he was talking about. He honestly thought that he'd rather die than deprive the world of his beauty so selfishly…

The world is full of surprises, ain't it?

No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, the MC was suddenly mowed over by a "stranger" running at them at top speed like an Olympic sprinter. It’d probably have been pretty scary before Solomon lifted the enchantment shortly after to reveal their demon’s gorgeously familiar face.

Solomon wasn't going to let him stay too long, lest he incur the wrath of Lucifer, but Asmo couldn't care less. Be it a thousand hours or a few short seconds, he could always find a way to make his time with the MC last a lifetime...

Beelzebub

Fun fact, Hell freezes over a little every time Beel says "I'm not hungry…" No. Seriously. A freezing wind blasts across the entire Devildom like the realm itself gets a sudden chill...

So imagine the levels of panic that went through pretty much everyone there when his appetite started to fail him.

It's not like the poor baby could help it, food just tasted so much better when the MC was there that eating without them was like trying to digest actual disappointment… He got tired of trying after a while.

A few days of this behavior were worrying, but when he started to get a little thinner the family went into an uproar, starting with Belphie but soon spreading to the rest of the House as well.

Lucifer's soft spot for the twins may have influenced his decision. I mean, it was awfully generous of him to get Diavolo to approve of an fully sanctioned, planned meeting between Beel and the MC. He probably wouldn’t have offered that to anyone else...

Not that Beel cared about all that background favoritism anyway. Hell, on the day that he was finally allowed to see them, he couldn't be bothered by anything other than holding the MC close and hoping they'd never let him go again.

His appetite did return to him eventually, of course, but as long as he had his human with him even the cheapest street taco tasted like a fine five star-meal.

Belphegor

Frankly, Belphegor was sick and tired of missing people.

Ever since the Celestial War he missed Lilith. When he was stuck in the attic, he missed Beel. And now that the MC was away he was supposed to just sit patiently and miss them too? No way. Not happening. Something about that had to change.

It wasn’t the first time he'd gone to Lucifer in an angry huff, but admittedly he had more ammo than usual...

There was a… discussion between the two. It went on for a couple hours… There may have been some words to the effect of, "Don't you think you owe me?" exchanged…

Honestly, it was kind of amazing Belphie didn't end up in another attic "timeout" by the end of it. But he got what he wanted, so what's to complain about?

With a little persuasion on his part, Lucifer managed to get Diavolo to approve of a weekly visit for the two, SO LONG as Belphie stayed on his best behavior in the human world.

There wasn’t really much worry about him acting up, though, since he'd have his nap buddy back. It would be pretty hard to be a threat to humanity when he was too busy staying snuggled up to his favorite person until well past noon...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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hufflepuffhollander · 4 years

Text

shirtgate: tom holland imagine

a/n | i finally did it! i wrote a thing without angst! i have grown so much as a person. anyway this is my third and final (☹️) submission for @hollandsrecs 1k bingo event, crossing off the “accidental relationship reveal” trope square. this has been a super fun challenge and everything i’ve written for it i’ve actually been v proud of so thank you all for the continued support :)

summary | it is pretty obvious — you accidentally tell the whole world about your relationship with your costar Tom Holland.

tom x fem costar!reader | contains language, fluff, heavily suggestive dialogue | word count: 1.8k | enjoy!

“Babe, have you seen my shirt?”

A strong pair of arms snake around your waist.

“Why do you need a shirt?”

You slip around and lace your fingers behind your boyfriend’s neck, blushing at his sly smile.

“As flattered as I am, I don’t think my publicist will be very pleased seeing pictures in the papers tomorrow of me walking around naked.”

He ran his hands up and down your bare back and leaned in to kiss your neck, making you shiver in the best way.

“Ooh, I would buy the hell out of those photos.”

“You’re such a weirdo, Tom.”

“You love it.”

“Maybe. Where is my shirt?!”

“Just borrow one of mine,” he said, going to his closet and pulling one of his favorite spider-man t-shirts from the back. You draped it over you and reveled in being enveloped in his scent while Tom frowned at the loose cotton now hanging over you.

You walked over to him sitting on the edge of his bed and straddled his hips, lazily putting your arms on either one of his shoulders. The smell of your perfume mixed with his laundry detergent blissfully dizzied him, and he couldn’t stop thinking about how the only thing between your bare bodies was a thin piece of fabric- but his pout stayed put.

You noticed the drop in his mood. “What, I don’t look good in gray?”

“You look amazing in it, darling. I just wish you didn’t have to leave,” he exaggerated his expression, toying with the bottom hem of the shirt, exposing a few inches of your bare belly. You kissed his nose and pushed him back on the mattress, leaning over and propping yourself up on your hands. His eyes continued to roll over you, the sunshine filtering in through the slats in his blinds casting a glowing sheen across you that he couldn’t peel his eyes away from.

“I’ll be back later,” you said, dragging one finger slowly down his chest. “And you can take it off again then.” You finished your sentence with a smirk and a boop to the nose, got up, and went to finish getting dressed. Tom stayed there with his jaw slacked, cursing his better judgement for not tackling you and using his charm to convince you to stay.

“Oh, you better believe I’ll be doing a lot more than that,” he huffed, swallowing hard, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do with himself until he could get his hands on you later.

“...and this is the room where it happens!” you pan your camera around your bedroom to show all of the fans who were watching your live story. You had promised them a tour of your new apartment once it was all moved into, and with a fan base as big as you had, you couldn’t disappoint, even if you would’ve much preferred being tangled up with Tom right now than showing millions of strangers your throw pillows. But your relationship was to be kept completely off the books, out of the media and only inside the comfort of your own homes, with the exception of your close friends. You both knew what kind of drama it would spark if you went public this soon after your movie release, and wanted to live in your little private bubble of normalcy as long as you could. When you expose your love to the world, things just get messy- and right now, you were content with everything being divinely simple.

Feedback poured in onto your tiny screen.

“wooowww so jealous!!!”

“your house is beautiful 😍😍”

“hiiii y/n! show us more!”

You scrolled through the comments on your live-stream, laughing and responding to some questions people asked.

“Yes, my dog lives here with me!”

“Ohmygod, no, Chris Evans does not live in my basement! Did he tell you that?!”

You floated from room to room giving the tour, and eventually made your way to your impeccably organized closet, opening the doors and flipping your camera to show the live audience the inside. And right there, sticking out like a sore thumb on top of your white dresser, was one neatly folded gray spider-man shirt- normally spotted on Mr. Tom Holland. It was unmistakeable. The comments started flooding in before you could even turn the closet light off.

“wait a second- is that TOM’S SHIRT?!”

“omgomgomg-“

“yoooo i knew it, y/n and tom 😍😍”

“wtf?!? are they DATING???”

You realized what you’d just done a second too late, immediately came up with an excuse as to why you had to close the tour, and ended the livestream, heart beating out of your chest. Not even a minute later, you got a call from Tom; you almost threw your phone across the room.

“...Hello?”

“Hey, hi, y/n, uh, what did you just do?”

“Tom, I swear I didn’t mean to-“

“Baby, it’s alright. Just…what- what happened?”

“They saw. They saw it. All of them. Your stupid shirt. On my stupid fucking dresser. I’m so sorry, how do they even know what all of your shirts look like, that’s so fucking weird-“

Your mouth couldn’t keep up with your brain you were so flustered, and all you heard on the other end of the line was Tom chuckling softly, which only confused you even more.

“Are you- are you laughing? Because I’m having a heart attack,” you half-muttered, sitting down with your heavy head in your hands. It was pounding with panic and confusion and couldn’t hold itself upright any longer.

“Take a breath, y/n. The world isn’t ending-”

“Yes it is!” you teared up, feeling your phone buzzing out of control in your palm.

“Baby, no it’s not. Stay there and I’ll be over in 5.” Tom hung up the phone and you went to check your texts, every app under the sun pouring in with notifications of screenshots and callouts about what you had just revealed. When Tom finally knocked on your front door, you basically fell apart in his arms before he made it past the threshold.

“Tom, I’m freaking out, everyone is saying we’re-” he cut you off with an unexpectedly sweet kiss, this proving to be the only thing that could get you to stop panic-rambling. Your eyes fluttered shut against your mind’s wishes to keep pumping with adrenaline.

“Yes, darling, most people are speculating all over the internet that we’re an item because they saw your livestream,” he said, walking you to your couch and sitting down, guiding you to sit on his lap. “You have a much bigger following than I thought.” he grinned at you, but all you could do was frown back.

“Oh, god. I ruined everything.”

“No, you didn’t. It was about time people started knowing I was off the market,” Tom said, running a soothing hand through your hair as you continued to pout at him.

“...Really?”

“Yes! I mean, it’s just cruel that I’ve had all this to myself-”—he gave your body a once-over—“and couldn’t show it off, y’know.”

That got you to crack a small smile, and Tom capitalized on that moment and pushed you down onto the couch to hover over you, peppering you with obnoxious kisses. Admittedly, he’d made a valiant effort to distract you, but you playfully swatted at him to get off because you were nowhere near done being dramatic about this.

“Okay, so wait, you’re — Tom, stop that — you’re not upset?” You found your previous spot etched into his lap and settled back down, interlocking your hands and playing with his slender fingers.

“Actually, no, I’m not,” he said, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. “Thought I would be, but, honestly? It feels good, love. I don’t have to hide you anymore. I never wanted to in the first place.”

You gave him an audible awww and snuggled into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and trying your best to squeeze him until he popped. “I’m sorry it couldn’t happen on your own terms, though, it was just a dumb mistake,” you sighed into his shirt.

“Are you kidding? The fans are eating this up. They’re dubbing it ‘shirtgate’,” he laughed and shrugged again, “I don’t even know what that means.”

You giggled into his chest and brought your face back up to his, kissing his forehead, then nose, then lips. You went for a deeper kiss the second time, but he interrupted you.

“Although, I did tell you y’should’ve just stayed shirtless.”

You feigned offense at what he said and instinctively covered your chest by crossing your arms over one another.

“Well good luck getting me shirtless now, Holland.”

“Excuse me?!”

“What a horrible time to prove a point!”

You both laughed as he tried to wrestle your arms apart, but they didn’t budge. You gave an impressive fight, but Tom got the better of you, and ended up throwing you over his shoulder from the couch and carrying you upside-down into your bedroom. You seized your opportunity and pinched two handfuls of his butt, chuckling.

“Hey, I like the view.”

“Did you just grab my ass?!”

He dropped you down onto your bed and walked away, coming back in with his gray shirt and throwing it at you.

“Put it on, babe.”

You obliged all while staring at him puzzled as he twiddled away on his phone. Once you were dressed, he sat down next to you, put his phone up to face you both, and turned on his instagram live.

“Tom! What are you-” you gasped but had to stop speaking as thousands of people were already tuning into his stream.

“Hey, everybody! Me and y/n here. We know there has been some buzz going around about this shirt,“ he pointed to you and you smiled awkwardly. “and wanted to set the record straight.” Tom put his arm around your shoulders and you were suddenly in the foreground of the screen.

“Yes, it is mine. And she does look amazing in gray, doesn’t she?” you started to giggle and blush incessantly as he kissed your cheek, gave a casual wave goodbye, and shut off his phone.

“Uh, what did you just do?”

“Gave ‘em something to talk about.” he flipped his phone onto silent, grinned and came back over to you, fingers already fussing with the oversized shirt, starting to tug it upwards.

“We’re so screwed.” you said eliciting a laugh from him, leaning back so he could take in more of your features that he loved oh-so much.

“So, you know me, I’m on the record as loving you in this shirt,” he said, his voice already sounding lower, softer, huskier.

“Mmhmm,” you played along.

“But I’d like it much better off again.”

#hrficbingo1k #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland imagines #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfics #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfictions #tom holland blurb #tom holland blurbs #tom holland one shot #tom holland one shots #tom holland x reader

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rallamajoop · 3 years

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How (not) to say ‘fuck’ in Etruscan (and other things I cannot believe I spent so much time tracking down for a throwaway joke in a Witcher slash-fic)

Buried in chapter 4 of my fic Something Nice is a joke which, as much as it amused me, no-one else is going to get unless I explain it. So here we go.

For the last few people in this fandom who haven't heard yet: The Witcher 3's vampire-language is Etruscan. To my knowledge, there's never been an official statement from CDPR to confirm this, but the evidence (ie. that basically all the vampire vocab can be found in online Etruscan sources) seems pretty solid. To explain why this made me go oooooh that's so NEAT, we need a little context.

Context!

The Etruscans (in my admittedly far-from-expert understanding) were a people who lived in Italy back before the Romans got around to conquering-slash-assimilating the rest of the peninsula, and the language they spoke is one of the most frustratingly mysterious of the ancient world. Most dead languages are at least related to something modern linguists have a decent handle on, but Etruscan seems to have been related to almost nothing else spoken – it may even have pre-Indo-European roots (a whoooole other tangent I am in no way qualified to cover).

Surprisingly, we do owe our modern Latin alphabet in part to the Etruscans, since the earliest Roman alphabets were adapted from the Etruscan (who got it from the Greeks, who got it from from the Phoneticians, and so on). The Etruscans may even be the reason we're stuck with so many weirdly redundant K-sounds (not only K and C, but X and Q, which are really just 'ks' and 'kw' with an overblown sense of superiority).

But being able to sound out every surplus K-word from an Etruscan inscription isn't much help nowadays when there are no surviving Etruscan dictionaries to tell us what it actually means – not even a decent Etruscan Rosetta stone to give us a push-start. So while modern linguists may rattle off Ancient Greek fluently or puzzle out Egyptian hieroglyphs from thousands of years before the Etruscans even had an alphabet, the Etruscan vocabulary available to us nowadays remains embarrassingly limited. Bits have been figured out from context or thanks to loanword exchanges with their neighbours (plenty of ancient Greeks and Romans certainly spoke Etruscan, even if they failed to write it down), but a lot is still as mysterious to the experts as it would be to you and me.

So why to I love the idea of using Etruscan as the Witcher’s vampire-language so much? Basically, if you want a language that will sound both old and reliably alien to anyone listening to it – be they the mainstream English-speaking market or the original Polish-language audience – Etruscan is a damn good call. You're not going to have much vocabulary to draw from, but it's not like there's a lot of vampire-chatter in the game anyway. It's a cool little easter egg for fans nerdy enough to try and figure out what they're saying.

Translations and Sources

You aren’t going to find a lot of great Etruscan language sources on the web – few of the easily-discovered online sources on Etruscan vocab appear to have been updated within the last ten years, and lord knows how consistent some of these are with current scholarship (let alone how sure linguists can be about anything with a task like this). All the same, have some links you may find useful:

Etruscology – Brief, but more readable than most

Lexicons.ru Etruscan Glossary – Probably one of the best collections of many terms in one place

Maravot.com Etruscan Language pages – Hard to navigate, but gosh there are a lot of vocab here I have not seen elsewhere

Old, Tripod-hosted Etruscan Glossary – I think these are mostly just the same terms from the Lexicons page, but in harder-to-use format

Etruscan word search – Decent, but not the most extensive vocab

Introduction to the Etruscan Language – Looks to be from Maravot.com, but in pdf format

Paleoglot.com’s Etruscan tag – Blog by an actual linguist who regularly discusses Etruscan material, and who even created their own translation applet! – which was, unfortunately, in flash, and is thus no longer usable. (There is a certain irony that even the tools available online to help you understand Etruscan are written in a language that is now no longer supported or understood by any modern browser.)

Not that translating what’s in the game is going to be easy, oh no. Take, for example, the oh-god-please-don't-kill-me ceremonial greeting Geralt has to offer to the Unseen Elder to survive that meeting – "Eclthi, lautni ama".

'Eclthi' is apparently a "demonstrative (locative)" (’here’, ‘there’, etc). "Lautni" is trickier – it means a freed slave, but may also imply a familial relationship or a client of sorts, while the root “lautn” apparently designates simply “possession.” House slaves in the ancient world were often considered part of the family, and freed slaves were an important class in many ancient cultures, who often maintained relationships with their former masters, so you can see the internal logic, but what sense was the Witcher using it in? It’s hard to know.

"Ama" is possibly worse – most translations seem to have taken it as "to be", but sometimes also “to love”, or even "now" or "meanwhile." Then you hit the question of Etruscan grammar, and I have no idea where I’d even start. So, with a little creativity, you could probably translate that phrase as anything from "take this and consider me a friend" to "meanwhile, this is family" to "a demonstration of love from your slave." I mean, you've got the same general theme going there regardless, but there's a lot of ambiguity in the inflection.

For what it's worth, I feel garasham's translation efforts are easily the most convincing I've seen – they have the above line as “Here I am a slave / a friend / kindred” FWIW. (Mind you, given the wiki doesn't even try to do more than offer you one possible meaning for each word, there's not exactly much competition out there).

So, bringing this all back to that fic and how to say ‘fuck’ in Etruscan...

I've already gone to the web's Etruscan dictionaries once while I was writing Forget-Me-Not, seeking inspiration for a 'real' name for "the Queen of the Night" from the first Witcher game. Neither 'queen' or 'night' got me far, but the Etruscans did apparently have a goddess of the moon called 'Aritimi, Artume or Artames', which worked pretty well. If anything it's almost too close to the better-known Greek goddess Artimis, who was obviously a relative (ancient cultures bleed into each other even when they're not bleeding all over each other, nothing new there), but I'm not going to be picky.

However, being a) a giant nerd, who b) writes a lot of smut, and c) is no more mature deep down inside than the rest of us, I couldn't resist seeing if I could find some slightly more obscene vocabulary. Did the Etruscans have a word for, say, 'fuck'?

Alas, if they did (and I mean, they totally did, c'mon), the web wouldn't tell me about it. Nor could I find much else relating to sex or genitalia (male or female), or even a decent word for 'thrust'.

On the flipside, there were a couple of different terms meaning 'plough'. And anyone who's played – well, any of the games, but especially Witcher 2 – would probably realise exactly why that filled me with so much glee.

Speaking of which, here, have a picture which is in no way related:

The fact that the various Etruscan terms meaning ‘plough’ could also apparently be translated as things like “to worship“ or “to act through movement, including ritual acts,” or that an important mythological figure was “a prophetic child who sprang from a freshly plowed furrow” was in no way discouraging.

The word I ultimately picked was 'esari'. Admittedly, variations on the prefix ‘ar-’/‘ara-’/’aras’ were much more consistently attested to throughout the various online Etruscan dictionaries as ‘terms meaning plow’, but figuring out how to convert an Etruscan prefix into a satisfying word is officially where even my enthusiasm for all this nonsense gives out. Esari was, by comparison, already a much more solid-sounding term, so let’s go with that.

Why go to all this trouble anyway? Well, the honest answer is “entirely for my own amusement”, but the nominal excuse comes right back to “so I could give Regis and Geralt this little exchange during a sex scene.”

"Unless you have any particular objection," said Regis, moving to straddle Geralt's body, "I thought we might engage in some esari... hm, what was the equivalent term in your language again?" The vampire leaned in close to Geralt's ear as he made a show of remembering his answer, "Ah, yes—I thought I'd fuck you."

Never let anyone tell you you never learnt anything from porn!

#The Witcher #Etruscan #vampires #Regis #Emiel Regis #fic #history geekery #also contains a snippet of Geralt x Regis fic #so #you know #be warned

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drowningbydegrees · 3 years

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Fanfic Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @lokibus! <3 <3 <3

How many works do you have on Ao3?

54. I've written quite a bit more, but I just can't be bothered to carry over most of the fics from my LJ days. Also, once upon a time I had a super insecure streak and I went on an orphaning spree, so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What’s your total Ao3 word count?

Apparently 457,241! Kinda same as above.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Though I Try Not To (The Witcher)

I'm so weirdly pleased about this. I fell into Witcher fandom totally by accident. I don't usually do fixit fics, but I couldn't help myself. This is, I think, the only fic to date where I've started posting as a WIP and actually followed through and finished.

Where All Roads Lead (MCU)

If there is one plot device I'm just eternally a sucker for, it's time travel shenanigans. This was one of the two time travely fics I wrote for Stucky fandom.

For The Space of a Heartbeat (The Witcher)

I'm honestly really surprised by this? This was totally just a self indulgent spur of the moment kinda thing, and it's only a couple thousand words.

Even in the Dark I Know You (The Witcher)

Okay, I lied. There were two WIPs I actually followed through and finished. This started as a random oneshot for a whump week thing, and then the prompt for the next day fit so well with a follow up chapter that this just turned into a whole story. I really enjoy subverting tropes and with witcher biology I see a lot of sensory overload kinds of fics, so I decided to play with the idea in reverse.

Even if it Hurts (Even if it Makes Me Bleed) (The Witcher)

So, most of the time when I settle into a fandom, there's one fic idea that I feel like I cannot leave without writing. For Witcher fandom, this was that fic. I have a lot of complicated thoughts about soulmates as a romantic concept, even more so when you're involving characters like Geralt, for whom fate is so often a double edged sword. This story was very much an excuse to dig into what soulmates mean for personal agency under the guise of a narrative. XD

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Admittedly, I do this with embarrassing inconsistency. Basically, what happens is: * Something gets a good response. * I respond to a few comments and then find myself overwhelmed (mentally, not as in there are a truly overwhelming number of comments). * I step away for a bit. * A month later I realize I still haven't replied. Cue paralyzing indecision about whether it's too late to reply. * Rinse and repeat.

I do want to! And I'm working on it. I've gotten a little better about it, but my apologies to anyone who I haven't responded to. Please know I'm not intentionally ignoring you. ;_;

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Oh hmm. I had a reputation for a really long time as primarily an angst writer, but pretty much all my stories have a happy ending for some given quantity of happy. I guess it kind of depends on how one qualifies that.

Noonwraiths and Other Woodland Forest Creatures maybe. It's got a got a pretty fluffy ending.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

It's a tossup.

I, The Paradox, which is my other time travel fic from my Stucky fandom days, with a paradox (shocking) that lands Steve with two versions of Bucky. For plot purposes even! It's not a particularly smutty story. It ends sort of ambiguously. There's a sequel outlined that was meant to resolve said ambiguity, but alas, it's still sitting in my WIP folder.

Truth in the Periphery. It's a psychological horror story I wrote for an event. I think it's the only fanfic I've ever written that was really intended as a hurt/no comfort kind of story.

Do you write crossovers?

I haven't, but not because I specifically don't. I've just never had an idea that felt compelling enough to follow through on.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

Maaaaybe once or twice a long, long, long time ago, back when FFN was still the best option for posting outside of LiveJournal. I don't think it was even about the writing. I think it was someone was mad that my much younger self tried to sneak smut onto FFN.

Do you write smut? if so, what kind?

I have such a love/hate relationship with smut in my own work. I used to write it a lot because I felt like I had to. It was until I came to terms with being more or less ace irl that it occurred to me why I didn't enjoy writing it. Weirdly, I like reading it just fine.

The thing is, while I don't really care for the physical aspect of it, I like the emotional touchpoints of it, so I do still write smut sometimes. It just tends to be a little cursory in terms of action details and heavy on character dynamics.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. But I used to RP a lot, and it's always been a lot of fun, so I wouldn't be opposed to the idea!

What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Oh shoot. From a romantic standpoint that varies so much depending on what fandom I'm currently feeling enthusiastic about. It's pretty much always a specific character that draws me to a fandom, so I think the most consistent ship I have is favorite character/unconditional love and support. XD

What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

The sequel to I, The Paradox I mentioned earlier.

What are your writing strengths?

If there's one thing I feel like I have a consistently good handle on, it's emotional impact. I put a lot of thought into why people make the choices they do and how they relate to each other, and I would like to think I'm reasonably adept at leading readers to the emotional response I'm going for.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions. I'm just forever in awe of people who can just write settings/action naturally. It's a constant effort for me, and it's the thing I always feel like I fall short on. I can write navel gazing in my sleep, but an action scene? Pfftttt.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Very situational. Kind of like in movies and television. I don't have any kind of always x or y opinion on it though.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Inuyasha. It was back when I didn't have a computer of my own and would write at the library, so the only record of it was the site I used to draft and post to that is now defunct. No one is happier about this than I am. 😂

What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

I think I'm genuinely pretty proud of everything I've written in the last couple of years, but if I had to pick right now, it'd be It Doesn't Break But it Bends. It's a time loop fic. Someone left "Recommended but you will sob." as their bookmark note for it and I think that might be my crowning achievement in fandom.

Tagging (if you want!): @mikkeneko @goodheavensgwen @writinglizards @plotdesigner And anyone else who wants to <3

#things I'm tagged in #my fic #about me

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danteinthedevildom · 3 years

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A Royal Pajama Party “Analysis” - Part 3 (of 7)

Unlike the previous two posts - which were fairly length - this one is a little less of a formal analysis and more of a “holy shit this man’s so fucking cute” ramble. It’s significantly shorter; I would have actually compiled these together with the previous post if Tumblr wasn’t so awful with its image-per-post limit.

It continues with Diavolo and MC watching a movie together, and once again leads into more Story Key-locked content. So, here is your cursory spoiler warning!

Picking up from the previous post, the movie Diavolo picks to watch with you is a black and white Human World film. A few thoughts come to mind on this.

One: He picked a movie specifically because he wanted to watch it with you. Not just anyone in general, or even just a human in general - specifically you. He spends a lot of time thinking about and noting down things he wants to do with you.

This, to begin with, is just... impossibly sweet. He’s never had a friend before, so he’s never had someone to think about when he’s looking at things he enjoys. Even the closest demons to him don’t generally like humouring him with his more playful whims.

Now, however? He has you. Someone willing to spend time with him. Suddenly, he has someone utterly receptive to the things he loves; someone happy enough to listen, someone who might enjoy them just as much as he does.

We’ve all done it before, after all. As soon as we know someone’s happy to listen to you ramble about something, we take note of things we think they might like so we can share it with them and (potentially) get them into it as well. Make it a bonding experience, because we like the thing and we like them, so why not mix the two? That’s how you deepen a friendship, after all.

It’s such a normal, human thing for Diavolo to do. He’s sincerely just happy to have you there; to finally have someone he can pick out likes to share with. Just a passing thought - “Oh, MC might like that, I’ll have to save it for our sleepover” - that speaks a thousand words to how often (how casually, naturally, easily) he thinks about you.

But it’s also a bit more than that. Because while this is just about the movie, we’ve already seen Diavolo admit he’s quite literally written out a list of activities he wants to do with you.

How long is that list? What sort of things has he got written down? We’ve been given a small glimpse at the list for this Devilgram, but it really is just a small glimpse. How many times has Diavolo seen something that has immediately pinged in his brain as “things I need to do with/show MC”?

(How many things has he never felt comfortable or happy showing anyone else before?

How many times has he tried to share his interests, only for them to be rejected?)

Two: It’s Human World media. Diavolo’s only recently (in the main game) gotten to see the Human World properly, and considering this is black and white, I’d say it’s fairly old. At the latest? Maybe a hundred years old at this point.

That’s (possibly) at least 100 years Diavolo’s been consuming Human World media.

The fact that he’s remembered it this long, too - for you to appear, and him to want to share it with you - either means it’s something he watches frequently, or it’s something that made a big impression on him.

Diavolo’s infatuated with the Human World, that much we already knew; one of his Homescreen interactions is about wanting to see the sunset, and another mentions how he hasn’t been to the Human World (either at all, or often). It’s something he wants to see more - something that excites him in a very boyish, childish way. Like a kid going on holiday to Disney World after seeing it on TV a thousand times.

But this isn’t a recent infatuation. The movie (potentially) proves this. Even before the Exchange Programme - before he met you - he’s held this infatuation with humanity. It’s not just about peace; there’s something about the Human World that draws Diavolo in.

There’s more evidence of this in a later post, so I’ll go over this a bit more then. For now, however...

We can say with certainty that Diavolo wasn’t kidding when he said the Exchange Programme has been a dream of his for some time. It makes me wonder just how far back he wanted to unite the Three Realms, and why; whether he started with interest in the Celestial Realm or the Human World, and whether or not he hoped the Exchange would branch out his social contacts (considering we already know that demons don’t tend to spend time with him, and Diavolo is horrendously lonely).

(As an aside: the fact that he’s seemingly so infatuated with the Human World makes it even more special for him to share this movie with you. This is something he adores, something that’s affected him so much, he’s dedicated his life to improving relations across the Three Realms - and he wants you to experience it, too.)

Three: A bit more of a joking point, admittedly. Boy really said “I’ve been wanting to watch this movie with you that I love that also happens to be related to the Human World” with the same vibe as Ariel seeing the Prince for the first time and realising he could tell her what all the crap she’s been collecting is for.

I just... love the idea that his logic is “well, MC is human. This movie was made in the Human World. Ergo, this is the most appropriate movie to watch with MC for our super special sleepover!”

He’s so determined for everything to be perfect... I wonder if this movie was his immediate choice - something he’s always known from the start he’d do with you first the moment he could - or if he debated over several movies for the longest time, trying to come up with the best possible choice.

Adorable ramble time!

He’s good, in that he won’t make you do anything you don’t want to - you’re always given the choice of how close you want to be to Diavolo, and if you want to nope out of vaguely (or even overtly) romantic situations even at the last minute - but when given the chance? He will get as close to you as possible.

He’ll have you sit right next to him, pressed arm-to-arm, thigh-to-thigh. He’ll thread his fingers through yours, and rest your joined hands on your lap. And he’ll savour every moment, because this isn’t something he gets often, if at all.

That comment - “your hand is so warm...” - has such a sense of awe to it. He’s finally close enough to you to say that you’re warm. He’s finally reached this pinnacle of contact that he’s always wanted - and look at him! He’s so happy! He’s so, genuinely, wonderfully happy to be this close to you.

He’s been wanting to watch the movie with you for at least months, if not a few years (timeline depending), and he finally has the time to show you this thing he’s genuinely excited for you to see - and it is totally blown out of the water by the fact you’re snuggled up to him, holding his hand.

That’s how special you are to him. That’s how special this moment is for him.

There’s something so sweet - and yet so heartbreaking - at seeing the damn Prince of the Devildom get so flustered over asking to hold your hand. I know that the OM demons aren’t always depicted as your typical demons, and a few of them are fairly sex-shy, but there’s just... something about this scene that hits different.

He’s so tentative, so hopeful, to be able to hold your hand. He’s so shy about it, too. And, yes, some of that is absolutely him fretting over ruining the evening by asking - fretting over chasing you off if he’s too touchy, when you’re already doing so much just by staying as long as you have - but some of it has to be him not knowing if that’s an okay thing to ask for. Wanting to get closer, but not knowing if it’s appropriate.

I have a lot of feelings about this scene. It’s just... whether you see it as romantic or not, he’s so happy. He’s so happy just to have you there. He’s so happy you’re humouring him. He’s so happy you’re letting him do these very simple things.

He’s so lonely. And you just make all of that go away.

This is actually more of a silly thing, but I just wanted to note that - the Devildom has fucking Jenga and it’s called The Demonic Tower.

I’m also still not over this for a slightly sadder reason. This is another one of the things that Diavolo wanted to do with you - another activity on his list. And it’s playing fucking Jenga.

He knew/knows so few people and has such little free time, something as simple as Jenga is riveting entertainment for him.

He’s played so few board games in his life, he actually thought it was worthwhile to write down as something he absolutely had to do with you for your special, rare night of shared time spent together.

There are so many normal, plain, boring, everyday life experiences he’s never done, and every new thing he presents just hits harder than the last.

+++

And that concludes our (slightly shorter) part 3! Once again, thank you for making it this far. Hopefully the slightly lighter post was alright-

Next post, we’re going to skip ahead a bit. The game of Jenga itself is mostly just fun, so there’s no need to focus on it specifically. What is important, however, is the next activity - and what Diavolo does based on certain choices.

So, if you’d like, head on over to part 4!

#obey me diavolo #obey me analysis #obey me

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ejzah · 4 years

Text

A/N: I believe this one was also suggested by @wanna-be-bold: One of the other attendees asking Deeks for advice. I’m not playing favorites, this just came to me more quickly than anything else.

I’m struggling with writing more canon FLETC stories because I can’t accept that Deeks struggled so much. So with that in mind, this particular fic has Deeks struggling, but not to such a degree as we saw and he definitely did not fall asleep. Just to clarify, these are not in the same line of stories as the first Deeks at FLETC stories I’ve written.

***

Twenty-Four

“Hey, Marty! Marty Deeks!” Deeks paused on his way to the gym, looking back with a frown as a guy he remembered seeing in about half his courses jogging towards him. “You’re Marty Deeks, right?” he asked, once he’d caught up. He was just slightly shorter than Deeks and had a slim build he associated with swimming.

“Yeah...” Deeks eyed him warily.

“Hey, I’m Alex Buschko, “ he said, holding out his hand. Deeks shook it, still hesitant. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” Holding back a sigh, Deeks gave him a tight smile, anticipating what his next words would be.

“Deeks. And I know, you’re wondering what an old guy like me is doing at FLETC. I mean, I’m practically a senior citizen, right?” Deeks guessed.

In the last few weeks, Deeks had been subjected to a variety of jokes aimed at his age and health, among other things, from students and instructors alike. What made it worse was that most of them weren’t even particularly clever.

Alex looked vaguely bemused and scratched at his short red hair.

“Uh, actually, I wanted to ask for some advice.” Alex shrugged, cracking a smile. “But I can come up with a joke if you really want me to.”

“No, I’m good. I think I’ve got enough age jokes to last for a few years.” He felt like an idiot for jumping to conclusions, especially since Alex seemed friendly. “Sorry about that, I guess I’m a little on edge. Which isn’t really an excuse.” He drew in a short between his teeth, hoping he hadn’t alienated the kid for no reason.

“Don’t worry about it, man,” Alex said with another shrug. “I think we’re all pretty tense right now.”

“So, uh, what did you want to talk to me about?” Deeks asked, getting the conversation back on topic.

“I’ve watched you in the tactical simulations and the practice interrogations,” Alex started, making a face before he continued. “I’m realizing that sounds a lot creepier than I meant it to I swear I’m not stalking you.” Deeks chuckled at that, instantly recognizing another natural born rambler.

“Don’t worry about it.” He started walking again and Alex fell into step beside him. “What did you notice when you were observing me?”

“You’re really good at it,” Alex said simply, a hint of admiration filling his voice. “Like, better than some of the instructors. I mean, it looks like you don’t even have to try.” Deeks felt his skin flush a little at the growing awe in the younger man’s voice.

“I’ve had a lot of experience,” he said dismissively, but Alex shook his head.

“It’s more than that, man. No matter what they did, you barely tripped up. Even Jones was impressed and that guy is never satisfied.”

It was true; Deeks had got mostly perfect scores on most of the tactical and procedural tests so far. It was a relief and, admittedly, a little gratifying after his less than stellar performance the first few days.

“You’re gonna make me blush, Buschko,” Deeks joked, then regarded him more seriously. “Whatever your question is, I’m not going to judge you.”

“I guess just want to know how you learned to do that? Cause even the other guys with law enforcement backgrounds aren’t that good. And I know as hard as they try, the instructors here can’t teach that kind of instinct,” Alex explained and Deeks suddenly understood.

“You’re worried that you won’t know enough when you leave here.” Nodding, Alex let out a long breath.

“Exactly. It’s kind of terrifying. Because when I leave here I’m supposed to know what I’m doing-people could literally die if I don’t.” Making a frustrated sound, he gestured at the nearest building. “And three months doesn’t seem nearly like enough time.”

Deeks smirked a little, remembering feeling the same way when he’d left law school.

“You want to know the truth?” Alex nodded again, suddenly looking a lot younger than he had a few minutes ago. “You won’t be prepared. I know it’s scary, but you just won’t. You’ll get through here and feel like there’s a thousand things no one’s told you because nothing prepares you for real like.”

“That doesn’t exactly make me feel better,” he muttered.

“How old are you, Alex?” Deeks asked, which earned him an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“24. Why?”

“None of us know what we’re doing at 24. I know it’s a terrible answer, but it’s the truth.” Alex started to interrupt, but Deeks held up a hand and continued. “The guy you’re looking at right now has a good 15 years of law enforcement experience. In that time I’ve been a cop, a detective, and a federal liaison. I’ve made a ton of mistakes and I’ve learned even more.”

“So you’re saying...?” Alex said, trailing off.

“When you get out of here, give it time. No one has it figured out right away,” Deeks told him. Seeing that he still looked uncertain, Deeks squeezed his shoulder and nodded towards to the cafeteria. “How about I buy you a coffee and maybe I can give you a few tips.”

Alex sighed in relief and nodded in appreciation.

“That’d be great, man.” They were halfway to the cafeteria when Alex smirked and added, “You know, you’re not so bad for an old guy.”

#ncis la fanfiction #love kills sort of #Deeks at FLETC #mentor Deeks #ejzah fanfiction

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the-incapable-hero · 3 years

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Wistful thinking was a habit by now. He really couldn’t help it. Or maybe he could. He knew that Ranboo said it was possible to let the habit die, but he was young. He hasn’t seen the things Phil had seen. Tommy was adamant as well. Same with Tubbo and Ghostbur and Techno. Fundy even. Almost everyone had been able to tell him some blunt and deceivingly simple answer to his bad habit.

It’s not like he was trying to do it. In fact, he made an active effort most of the time to not go down that rabbit hole. It was like all he could think of were the things he lost over the many years he’s lived and talked and traveled. What did it matter though. So what if his mind was suffocating, and so what if his thoughts would constrict him? What real significance would it even have? Nothing that would affect the whole of reality at least. If anything at all, it would only affect his own, little world.

“Hello?” A voice called out to him and he turned around, unsure exactly who was talking to him. He saw a familiar face, though admittedly it was one he wasn’t very well acquainted with. They'd definitely talked several times, and Phil knew that they'd been introduced several times. If he placed the name correctly…

“Karl?”

“Uh, yeah.” He seemed hesitant, as if he had to think about it for a moment.

“You look kinda down. Are you okay?” Karl asked him. Phil let out a solemn laugh.

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is just a bad habit of mine.”

“You… wanna talk about it?”

“It’s fine. I don’t want to bother you.”

“Well I asked if you wanted to, not if you thought I was willing.” Karl chuckled lightly.

“...Yeah. Sure.” Phil wasn’t actually sure himself, but hey, one more blunt answer of encouragement to add to the collection, right? Karl carefully watched his step so that he wouldn’t trip over any of Phil’s singed feathers or trample on his fingers as the winged man himself was leaning back while his arms supported him against the grass. Karl shifted to a more natural position that was slightly closer to but still a comfortable distance away from Phil. They both just looked into the horizon for a moment, legs dangling from the small cliff they were perched on. Phil took it upon himself to start talking.

“I have a habit. Sometimes I just find myself thinking about all the things I’ve lost. I’ve told a few people this. Do you think I can think any other way, now that I’ve been alive for this long?” He didn’t want the conversation to linger too long. He considered it repetitive at this point and he stopped seeing the point of conversations like that many decades ago. And so, his question saw that the conversation went right to the point. Karl thought for a moment and Phil kept staring at the horizon. After witnessing such a conversation several times over, Phil didn’t think it was worth putting in the effort.

“Yeah. Yeah I do.”

“Why?” Phil wasn’t expecting an answer to the small question other than “well everyone can learn to think differently.” And to them, silently, he’d ask if everyone had lived for centuries and lost more things than the number of years they'd been alive.

“You’re good at adapting to things.” Okay, that was a new one.

“Oh but uh, don’t get me wrong, I don’t think you can just straight up stop thinking like that. I’m pretty sure everyone thinks like that at some point. But I think you can definitely think about it less often. Maybe even start thinking about it differently. Like in a different light? It’s not easy, sure, but I think it’s possible.” Karl sounded like he wasn’t sure if he’d offended Phil in some way. It was strange. Normally, at least from what Phil had heard about Karl, he wasn’t normally like this.

“For everyone?” Phil found himself asking before he could stop himself. He internally sighed, thinking that this conversation would be much longer than he would’ve liked. He'd probably give the generic answer and Phil would pretend like he was satisfied.

“I mean, there’s a few exceptions, but I don’t think you’re one of them.”

“And what makes you think you know anything about how I work?” His own words surprised him. Perhaps it was just because he was growing tired of this same conversation just using different words. He’d never snapped before though. Karl hesitated. But to Phil’s surprise yet again, he spoke after a moment.

“Well, don’t get me wrong, I don’t know for sure. This is just what I think. I think you’re similar to the rest of us.”

“Oh really?” Phil didn’t know why he was angry at that statement. He’d heard it said before, so it was a mystery why it set him off this time. He tensed up ever so slightly and his voice hardened as he spoke.

“So what makes me the same, huh? I’ve lived for thousands of years, Karl. I’ve seen too much to be the same as anyone here. I’m older than everyone else by a long shot. Even Foolish. Even Dream. I’ve seen things you can’t even imagine. Eras and wars. Murders and betrayals. Birth, destruction, bonds, alliances. I’ve seen kingdoms rise and fall. Entire civilizations that age quicker than I do. So tell me, Karl. How could I share any similarities with any of you here?” Phil knew that later he’d apologize, but right now, he found himself too frustrated to contain his emotions. Forlornness had turned into anger at Karl for thinking that his experiences had any merit compared to his own, especially due to the sheer number of things that Phil had seen. It was definitely more than Karl, so how could he possibly even think he had the right to say what he just did? He was practically a child.

“...Okay. I know. You’ve… seen a lot. It’s hard on you. I… know that I haven’t seen nearly as much as you have, and I’m not you. So I don’t know what you’ve been through. Not exactly.” Karl spoke before Phil could finish seething. It was quiet and distant, and each word was said like it had to keep below a certain tempo or risk Phil snapping again. But Karl still continued.

“But… you’ve got to understand. You’re not me either. Just like I can’t know exactly what you’ve experienced, you can’t know exactly what I’ve experienced. It’s… not right to say that one person’s problems have more meaning than another’s. I’m not trying to say that you can’t be sad or angry, but I don’t think it’s right for you to think that your friends don’t know anything whatsoever about you or what you’re going through. Cuz… if you push people away… and hold them at a distance… and you refuse to learn anything from them… then you’re taking their effort for granted. Both their effort… and their stories.” Karl was speaking at a mumble at that point. Phil was speechless. He’d never been told that before. It was a bold thing to say. Very, very bold. Phil turned to face Karl, sitting up and fixing his posture. Karl noticed and tilted his gaze towards Phil but remained slouched and his head stayed tilted down. When Karl turned around to face him, the two locked eyes and for a heartbeat, Phil could have sworn he was looking in a mirror. The two looked nothing alike, but the look on Karl’s face was eerily familiar. Karl knew what he said. He’d meant every word of it in the most earnest way possible.

“Karl.” Phil mumbled. He was just as tense as before, but his tone had lost all of its harshness.

“Yeah?” Karl’s tone still carried the same weight and the look in his eyes were barely focused on Phil himself. As if he was lost in a memory but still in conversation. He looked… tired. Much too tired for someone like himself. He looked so young, but after seeing those same eyes in the mirror for a majority of his life, Phil knew that those eyes had seen a lot more than Karl’s age revealed. Phil was suddenly curious. A question floated in his mind and he wondered if the answer was yes.

“Tell me your story.”

He’d find out the answer. He had to.

“What part of it?”

Could he have been wrong this time?

“The part of it that made you say that to me.”

Maybe. Just maybe, he'd had the wrong impression about those younger than him.

"That's a long one. And probably one that I shouldn't tell you either."

If he was wrong, then what did that mean? Had he really been so condescending all this time? Viewing grown adults like children?

"I won't tell if you don't want me to. But I want to know."

When had he stopped paying attention? All those stories… had he unknowingly written them off as lesser than his own?

"... Okay. But I need you to promise me something."

Had he somehow convinced himself he had nothing more to learn?

"What?"

Then what of the people who loved him? Did they already know this about him?

"Promise me you'll remember it. If I ever disappear, then tell everyone. All the good and all the bad. If I ever come back and can't tell you my name, then tell me my story."

Had he failed them by being stagnant while everyone else was changing?

"I promise."

Was it this thinking that led him to become a self-fulfilling prophecy? One that would say he was to always remain the same while everyone around him aged on?

"Good. I'll be right back. I have to get my books. My mind is… let's say it's getting a bit winded. I'm getting closer and closer to a point where everything but those books will be gone. I can tell."

Had he lost even more than he thought by downplaying the stories of those he loved?

"How can you tell?"

Karl let out a humorless laugh and looked away. There was a sad expression on his face that barely passed for a smile. He suddenly looked older to Phil. Karl got up and brushed himself off before answering.

"I… don't know your name anymore." Phil quietly told Karl his name and he watched as the man thanked him and walked off, soon to return to that spot. But Phil could barely pay attention to that brief exchange of giving Karl his name, because for the first time in a very long time, he thought himself more fortunate than someone close who was still surrounded by a life of new discoveries.

#dream smp #philza #ph1lza #karl jacobs #dream smp fanfiction #yo should i continue this?#i actually had some other ideas for it but I'm tired and i wasn't sure if anyone would want a continuation of this #so if you want more then do let me know

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scribeofred · 3 years

Text

Thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the tag!

1. What fandoms have you written for?

This is embarrassing but I actually had to look at both FFnet and AO3 because I couldn’t remember all of them. TRON: Legacy, Assassin’s Creed, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit, Sherlock, Final Fantasy VII and XV and Kingsglaive, Voltron: Legendary Defender, Merlin, Skyrim, and, of course, Thunderbirds. I have a couple other fandoms that crop up in various wips, including a Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover that I really should finish.

2. How many works do you have on AO3 &/or FFNet?

FFnet has 45, and AO3 has 41. There’s also a couple stories lurking on tumblr, notably a final chapter for Reflection.

3. What are your top 3 fics by kudos on A03 &/or Favs on FFNet?

AO3 dominates in this area, if I can use a word like “dominates” for stories that have less than 125 kudos each haha. Oh well, the numbers don’t matter!

1. 118 kudos on tell the shades apart (my world is black and white)

2. 94 kudos on Reflection

3. 91 kudos on The 43rd Hour

4. Which 3 fics have the least kudos & Favs?

Again on AO3:

1 kudos on I Am You (And You Are Me)

5 kudos on The Dragonborn Chronicles

6 kudos on cynosure

5. Which Fic has the most comments and which has the least?

Reflection has the most at 29 threads, and I Am You (And You Are Me) has the least at zero.

6. Which complete fic do you wish had gotten more attention?

Lodestar, definitely. Sure, it’s for something of a rarepair, but they aren’t that rare, and I just really really like the way the story came together. On the other hand, of course my unfinished Merlin fic has gotten probably the most attention, because that’s just the way it goes, eh?

7. Have you written any crossovers?

None that I’ve published! I have various crossovers lurking in mostly unfinished states, including the aforementioned Tom Swift/Thunderbirds crossover, and an Assassin’s Creed/Thundeerbirds crossover that is very good and I should also finish. There’s an Expanse/Thunderbirds fic lurking in my brain that I may or may not ever commit to paper, who knows. I’ve also very vaguely toyed with a Batman/Thunderbirds crossover, in the sense that “nebulous” is too strong a word for the kind of toying I’ve been doing.

8. What is the craziest fic you’ve written?

I don’t really write crazy or crack or humor in general, so probably the closest thing to “crazy” is On the Lam, which was the result of wanting to throw Scott and Penelope toward an Egyptian stud farm. It ended up being the host for a bad joke about that, courtesy of one @thebaconsandwichofregret, who consistently gives some of the best dialogue advice I’ve ever encountered.

Actually, the true answer is probably a chapter in Glimpses into a Supernova, maybe the one about blood? It seems bonkers when I think back on it now, but I admittedly haven’t read it in many years. Possibly I am misremembering. Glimpses has some weird ones, though.

9. What’s the fic you’ve written with the saddest ending?

It’s a tossup between The Painting and a place where the water touches the sky. The former deals with a prior off-screen death; the latter is (maybe??) an on-screen death. People seemed upset by it, at any rate. I said it was ambiguous!

10. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

“Happy” is probably a matter of perspective? Depends on the overall reading experience and the ending within that context. Either septet or Three Towels and a Tracy, they’re both pretty fluffy overall.

11. What is your smuttiest fic?

protoinstincts, which I completely forgot I wrote and then rediscovered like a year later and realized “hey, this is actually pretty good” and you know what, despite it not being overly spicy, it is pretty good.

12. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate, per se, but someone left a review on Less Than Nothing saying they “didn’t like” that I “wrote the story as a series of drabbles.” Cool, I didn’t write the story for you, random guest reader, and the back button exists, friend 😂 It didn’t bother me on a personal level because I wrote the fic for an audience of one (incidentally, not myself and rather the recipient of a secret santa event), but I was mad because the reviewer had no way of knowing where I was at as a writer, and I know from longtime observation how that kind of comment can crush less experienced or confident writers.

Don’t leave flames, kids, you don’t understand the power your words have. Don’t like, don’t read.

13. What is the nicest comment you’ve received?

The nicest? Goodness. Hmm. I’d have to go hunting to find the nicest, but in recent memory, @ayzrules sent me a couple passages from Spanish texts she’s been studying that reminded her of my writing, and I was honestly so touched by the fact that she even thought to make such comparisons, much less mention them to me. Taking the time to familiarize yourself with someone’s style until you can make comparisons between it and someone else’s work is so much more meaningful to me personally than a basic “Nice story!” or “Loved this!” type of comment ever could be. <3 Ayz <3

14. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of, but I’ve never gone looking on any sort of copycat site or whatever either.

15. How many fics do you have marked as incomplete?

Two. First is The Dragonborn Chronicles, which is a retelling of Skyrim from Lydia’s perspective via her journal, to complement the in-game journal. It’s a slog of a style to write, though, even for someone who loves writing first person and doesn’t really want to write a lot of dialogue, and the outline is huge, and the story will be many times more huge, and just. Some day. Some day.

Second is tell the shades apart (my world is black and white), which has always been unfinished because the outline itself is over seven thousand words and the fully written story would undoubtedly land between 100,000 and 200,000 words, and there’s no way I’m writing that. I’ve always meant to upload the outline, but I got kind of self-conscious about the way I formatted it, and ugh I just haven’t bothered. One day, one day, right?

Moral of the story is I’m intensely a short story writer, and I’ve really found myself settling into that role over the last couple years. Better a clipped, punchy short story than a bloated slog of an epic.

16. Which of the WIPS will most likely be finished first?

Literally no one knows that. I wrote 95% of the observable entropy of a closed system over five years ago, and then I proceeded to pull it out roughly once a year and write and rewrite various endings until last month, which was when I finally figured out how I wanted to end the story. septet, too, languished for about five years before I finally remembered it existed and managed to wrangle an ending. Endings are hard, man. So are those third plot points. Terrible creatures, those, bog me down every time.

17. Which WIP are you looking forward to finishing?

Uh... mm. See. If I were looking forward to finishing any of them, I’d be actively working on them. At this moment, writing fic isn’t exactly high on my list of priorities, but I am also coming off a four-day idle game bender, so I still feel like I haven’t quite reengaged with myself as a living person. Give me another few days and I might have an answer.

(I am always most looking forward to finishing this ridiculous Ignis-drives-the-Audi-R8 fic that’s been languishing in my wips for literal years. As mentioned above, third plot points. Killer, man.)

(oh and also the working-titled the art of murder. Scott and Penny attend a private art auction. Things don’t go to plan. It, too, is stuck at the third plot point. I know, I know I have a problem, shush.)

18. Is there a WIP that you’re considering abandoning?

Any wip has the potential to be revived—this year and the old wips I’ve unearthed, dusted off, finished, and posted have been proof of that. I don’t intentionally permanently abandon anything for that reason, some stories just probably will remain dusty old wips forever because I didn’t actually need or want to write the full story for one reason or another.

19. Which complete fic would you consider rewriting?

Now that’s an interesting question. Hmm! Honestly? None of them. Once I finish a story, I’m not inclined toward rereading it again any time soon, to the point of years in some cases, and I feel like I’ve moved on from the stories I wrote one, two, five, eight years ago in the actual writing sense. They’re finished stories, and on top of that are relics of their time, which doesn’t mean the stories don’t have any ongoing significance on a reading level—I just don’t have any interest in rewriting those particular stories. I’ve gotten them out of my head, to the point of not remembering at least a third of them on demand anymore, and I don’t have any desire to “retell” those exact stories. I do tend to tighten the wording and fix perceived errors/weaknesses whenever I do end up rereading an old story, and I usually silently update the AO3 version if I make any significant changes because AO3 makes it a breeze to update a posted fic. I might do FFnet too if I’m feeling up to it or have the time.

20. Which complete fic is your favourite?

Once upon a time I would’ve said Holding On, but I honestly find it kind of unbearably melodramatic now. the observable entropy of a closed system is equally melodramatic, as it was written in the same era, but at least it has the excuse of being told in second person and via a style that is a half step away from being poetry. Possibly I will reread it in a few years and find it equally obnoxious and overly dramatic, but it received some shockingly positive comments, which I wasn’t expecting at ALL, and I’ve been honestly blown away by the amount of praise it’s received. <3 to everyone who’s said anything about it!

21. What’s your total published word count?

141,000 on AO3, 160,000 on FFnet, but technically the light of my life SS wrote fifty thousand words of each. It’s too late for math.

I tag @velkynkarma, @lurkinglurkerwholurks, @writtenbyrain, @thebaconsandwichofregret, and anyone else who wants to play!

#tag games

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

Summary: As a Jedi, you had to formally accept your new apprentice and your new Master.Obi-Wan, Anakin and Ahsoka from the beginning of their apprenticeships to their ends. AN: It's 1 am but I am here and queer and crying about baby Padawan disaster lineage. Read on AO3!

It was in the aftermath of their disastrous situation that Qui-Gon said the words Obi-Wan had been dreaming of hearing for such a long time. He always thought it would be in the aftermath of a tournament, perhaps after he had shown great courage and self-control, or maybe during a meditation session in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Never, not even in his wildest dreams, had Obi-Wan thought he’d be clinging to his new Master’s robes, bloody and full of dirt, tears running over his cheeks as he tried to get a grip on his emotions and panic. In the moment Obi-Wan had not once thought about his fears. There was only what was and what must be done. He had focused only on his task and now that he was finally allowed to reflect on his actions, it all came crashing down on him.

His shoulders wouldn’t stop shaking and he couldn’t calm his breath and the world wouldn’t stop spinning. Obi-Wan must look like a youngling, helpless and overwhelmed, but no matter what shame befell him, every other emotion was much larger, the size of a sun.

“It’s alright, Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon soothed him, running his hand in circles over his back. “You have done well.”

He had, hadn’t he?

Obi-Wan had finally proved himself. He knew he was meant to be a Knight someday. He saw it in his dreams sometimes, flickering images of calling out to a Padawan or two, never clear enough to see their faces, but Obi-Wan knew they were his.

He had to be there for them.

“Obi-Wan, I want you to listen well,” Qui-Gon said. “Padenji foh keelak chareu leoah foh. Leoah foh keelak Padawanir.”

The words, so kind and full of hope, almost made Obi-Wan cry even more. He bit on his lips and forced himself to take a deep breath.

"Mimayaah foh keelak mipadananal kat fehl. Leoah foh keelak Jaiehir," Obi-Wan replied.

Qui-Gon smiled down at him, happy, and everything was exactly as it was meant to be. The weight of every world finally left Obi-Wan’s shoulders and he knew he was on the right path.

Obi-Wan took in the sight of little Anakin Skywalker. The seamstress of the Royal House of Naboo had put together a proper outfit for him. The boy looked the exact part of a Jedi, even if his robes were admittedly a little fancier than the typical Padawan robes. There was no use to get extra clothes for younglings likely to tear them and outgrow them within a month, but the look suited Anakin and Obi-Wan had almost smiled when the boy had put on the robes, amazed at how soft they were.

“I’m tired,” Anakin said, yawning, and rubbed his eyes.

They had decided to stay on Naboo for another month so they could sort out Anakin’s legal paperwork. As it turned out, freeing a slave wasn’t as easy as just buying them. They had needed to get his chip out and get him the right citizenship. Anakin Skywalker had been granted the Naboo citizenship, gifted to him by the Queen herself. Not in an official ceremony, it couldn’t reach the Senate that Naboo royalty had bought a slave but Obi-Wan was sure that Anakin had appreciated the informal dinner more than he would have anything excessively festive. It all was very overwhelming to him.

Obi-Wan opened up the doors to their quarters and against all expectations, Anakin did not head to bed immediately. Instead, the boy went to their little kitchen to make tea. Obi-Wan had gotten used to Anakin’s habit by now, and yet it struck him how rigorously he stuck to it. Anakin picked out the one tea brand that they had been able to find that was to both their tastes, spicy but sweet, and slowly filled two cups with the tea. He gave one to Obi-Wan and took the other for himself.

The first night they had slept in these rooms, Anakin had only hesitantly offered a cup to Obi-Wan, cheeks hollow and pale, and then, hours later, quietly asked for permission to sleep next to Obi-Wan. They had come far already in such a short time. Anakin had gained some fat and spoke more freely.

His Padawan was doing well.

Obi-Wan let out a low breath.

“Anakin,” he said. “You know you are part of the Jedi Order now, right?”

Anakin nodded quickly as if he were afraid Obi-Wan would take it away if he wasn’t fast enough. This wouldn’t be a problem had Obi-Wan already gone through with it. “Yes.”

“And you are my Padawan. Do you know what that means?”

“You will teach me?” Anakin replied, his statement more a question.

“Exactly. Nobody has told you yet, but we have a tradition.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the taste of the tea. He wondered how Qui-Gon had felt when he’d taken Obi-Wan on. Had it been similar to this? He desperately wished his Master was still here so that he could ask him for advice.

“Padenji foh keelak chareu leoah foh. Leoah foh keelak Padawanir,” Obi-Wan said slowly.

Anakin frowned ever so slightly and tiled his head.

“I said that I will teach you everything I know and I know you as my Padawan,” Obi-Wan repeated in Basic. “It is something a Master swears when they take on a Padawan. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you our language as well.”

“Oh.”

Anakin held his cup in his hands and Obi-Wan supposed that if not for it, he would be fidgeting and pulling at the hems of the sleeves.

“Is there- is there anything the student swears as well?” Anakin asked carefully. He was looking at Obi-Wan’s hands, not daring to meet his eyes,

“Yes, there is,” Obi-Wan said. “Very good, Anakin. Try to repeat this: Mimayaah foh keelak mipadananal kat fehl. Leoah foh keelak Jaiehir.”

Anakin stumbled over the words, his tongue unused to the vowels and soft melodic lift. Half his words were unidentifiable, and yet Obi-Wan felt his heart warm. This journey wouldn’t be easy, but they had taken the first step. Tomorrow would be another day and life would go on.

For the first time since the fight against the Sith Lord, Obi-Wan actually thought of the latter as a positive thing.

Anakin wasn’t sure what to think of the youngling. He hadn’t wanted a Padawan. He was barely twenty, much too young for being responsible for a child, never mind for one stuck in a battlefield. If he didn’t teach her well, she’d die and it would be his fault. The weight of the responsibility on his shoulders was almost too much. And yet, as Anakin looked at Ahsoka Tano with her slumped shoulders, he thought maybe.

The fact that the Council had just assigned him a Padawan, even if he could refuse her, still irked him and he’d be having words with them. This was not the Jedi way, but as his Master had pointed out endlessly over the last few months, none of this was the Jedi way.

“You're reckless, little one,” Anakin told Ahsoka.

She, somehow, managed to look even more saddened by that. They’d definitely need to work on that if she was to be Anakin’s Padawan. He couldn’t have an adorable youngling commanding his men. Not that she’d be in command for a long time.

“You never would have made it as Obi-Wan's Padawan. But you might make it as mine.”

Ahsoka quickly lifted her head, staring up at Anakin with disbelief written all over her face.

Anakin cracked a smile. Maybe this could give birth to something great.

“Padenji foh keelak chareu leoah foh. Leoah foh keelak Padawanir,” Anakin told her seriously.

Ahsoka beamed at him and quickly hurried to her feet to do a proper bow.

“Mimayaah foh keelak mipadananal kat fehl. Leoah foh keelak Jaiehir,” Ahsoka replied, almost stumbling over her words in her hurry to get them out.

Anakin smiled at her and then, remembering the warmth of Naboo, threw an arm around his new Padawan, hugging her from the side as he slowly guided her back into the direction of their company. He was glad this campaign was over. He needed to figure out what he was actually supposed to do with a Padawan and Ahsoka was likely going to crash within the hour from all the excitement.

New beginnings, Anakin thought, were worth it.

Translations:

“Padenji foh keelak chareu leoah foh. Leoah foh keelak Padawanir.” - I will teach you everything I know. I know you as (my) Padawan.

"Mimayaah foh keelak mipadananal kat fehl. Leoah foh keelak Jaiehir." - I entrust you with my education. I know you as (my) Master.

#star wars #Anakin Skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #tcw #fanfic #conlang #dai bendu

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that-sw-writer · 4 years

Note

If you’re taking requests, hear me out...

Kylo x reader

Disney princess Mulan style. Reader is in the knights of Ren but no one knows she’s a girl! Kylo is the first to find out maybe by walking in on her changing or something idk whatever you think would be the best. I thought of this after reading intoxicated which both parts were awesome by the way!!

I’m so sorry that you’ve waited about a century for me to finish this... but I tried to make up for that by including a zesty meme to go with this lmao

Also I’m glad you enjoyed intoxicated, it’s literally one of my favourite things I’ve ever written!! I hope this one shot is what you had in mind!

MASTERLIST

Paring: Female Knight of Ren!Reader/Kylo Ren (Mulan inspired)

Word count: 4582

Warnings: mentions sex and kylo ren is briefly a bit of a dick

(context for the dank meme will be provided when you read)

I’ll Make a Man Out of You

You were struggling today, more than most months. Usually you managed to get through stomach cramps with a few painkillers, but today you were practically keeling over, and it hadn't escaped the notice of the other Knights of Ren.

"Nuren? You okay?" Kuruk had asked you in the midst of sparring, noticing that your movements were sloppy as you tried to ignore the crippling pain in your stomach.

"Yeah, I'm just feeling a bit under the weather." You tried to play it off, your voice coming off modulated due to your helmet. You were the only knight who always wore their helmet, the others took theirs off to socialise but you had to keep your secret safe, so you had told them from day one that you had taken an oath to never allow any sentient being to see your face, something you knew was common amongst the Mandalorian clans.

It was a solitary life, lying every day to the people whom you cared about more than anyone else, but you were in too deep to tell them to truth now. There had never been a woman amongst the Knights of Ren, and that wasn't likely to change - at least, not as far as anyone knew. You would just continue to miss out on drinking and eating with your brothers, being forced to sit in the corner and try your best to join in with their merriment.

Even your leader, Kylo Ren, had no idea of the truth. For years now you had concealed your gender from them, but you had never intended for it to go this far. You had joined the knights when they had come to your homestead seeking your brother, who was Force sensitive. He hid when they had shown up and you sent the knights on a cold trail to look for him, but after they left you had considered things. You were desperate for an escape and for adventure, plus you were also Force sensitive, so you had decided to drop everything and chase after them in place of your brother. You had concealed your identity by donning simple armour, which was soon replaced once they had taken you on board.

You took on the name Nuren, which meant 'woman' in your planet's dialect - hidden in plain sight, and you had never looked back. Sure, nothing about it was easy, but you wouldn't dare quit, you quickly found yourself enjoying the training, missions and most importantly: the brotherhood.

"Perhaps we should call it a day." Kylo raised his hand to stop the sparring, his gaze unsurprisingly fixated on you. "Nuren, go to the med-bay if you need to." Despite being a terrifying Supreme Leader to most, Kylo Ren cared about his knights, although little did he know that you had just gotten your period - there was nothing seriously wrong with you.

Over the years you had learnt a lot about concealing your emotions, particularly those where Master Ren was concerned. There were thousands of people in the galaxy whom you could have fallen for, but you had to choose to fall for Kylo Ren - the one man you could never have, for more reason than one. Most obviously: he thought you were a man who could under no circumstances remove his helmet in front of other people. But aside from that, even if he did know the truth, how could it ever work? You were one of his knights. Although admittedly, you had spent a lot of time alone at night dreaming that it could work.

"That's okay Master Ren, I think I just need to rest." You stood tall as you spoke to him, despite the sharp pain that was still twisting your stomach.

"Very well." He nodded, dismissing you all, but you could see the look of concern still on his face. Curse these cramps for ruining training for you.

You retired alongside your brothers after that, still trying to ignore just how much pain you were in, but they were unsurprisingly teasing you about it.

"One little stomach ache takes Nuren down? This is the same guy I once saw singlehandedly take on a Nightsister right?" Cardo gave you a bolshy nudge and the others all laughed.

"He's right, I knew the food they served up on this base was crap, by I didn't realise it was that crap." Trudgen then jested, and you laughed along with them, knowing that this was just how they behaved.

"You think I eat that shit?" You snorted as you all made your way back to your shared common area.

There was a large communal area where the knights all socialised together and attached were seven bedrooms, each sealed behind private blast doors.

"Since we're done for the day, who fancies a drink?" Ap'lek asked the moment you all stepped foot inside, moving over to produce multiple bottles of beer from the fridge.

The others all mumbled in agreement, moving to take off their helmets and make themselves comfortable. Despite knowing that you would decline, the knights never failed to ask you to join them and they had no idea how much that simple gesture meant to you, let alone how much you wanted to accept it.

"How about it Nuren? Nothing like alcohol to cure sickness." Ushar grinned, but you reluctantly shook your head.

"I think I might just turn in and take a nap." You said, your brothers all bidding you farewell before you disappeared behind the doors that lead to your quarters.

As soon as you were alone, you shed yourself of the heavy helmet, as well as the outer layers of your armour. Carrying around that much weight on your body whilst on your period should have been a crime.

Rather than collapsing onto the bed, you moved to dig through your drawers where you had a stash of painkillers hidden for these exact moments - hopefully they would at least give you a few pain-free hours so you could spend some time with the other knights before they got too drunk.

Swallowing down the pill, you knew it would take some time to kick in so you opted to soak in a warm bath until them, that usually helped. From your refresher you could vaguely hear the others all laughing and having fun together. It pained you more and more every day have to be such an outsider, but you feared that if you revealed the truth to them they would never accept you.

You tried not to let your thoughts dwell on negative things whilst you bathed, but it was hard not to. You had everything you ever wanted - but you didn't have it, as far as anyone else was aware your brother was the one living this dream. Could you really go on like this forever? The answer was: yes. You had no choice, you would die with your secret one day.

You eventually left the refresher, a towel wrapped securely around your body. Thankfully, this time your painkillers were actually working, so with any luck you'd be able to join your brothers and simply watch them drink and wish you could join in - just as you always did.

When you pulled on your undergarments you wrapped tight bandaging around your chest to flatten it. It was beyond painful to wear every day, but definitely easier than explaining why you had breasts...

You tugged on your slightly baggy trousers, and your even baggier undershirt. You found that clothes with less shape worked better. However, before you could sweep your hair back into a clean bun and put your helmet on, you heard the blast doors to your room open.

The knights knew to never walk into each other's private quarters unannounced, and there was surely only one other person who could possibly be in the knights' common area. But why would he be in here?

"I wanted to check that you're okay-" Kylo began, clearly not focusing as he entered. But when his voice trailed off you knew that he had laid eyes on you.

With your heart in your mouth, you slowly turned around to confirm your worst nightmare. Kylo Ren stood staring at you, his mouth slightly agape. Clearly he hadn't known what to expect, but this was far beyond the parameters of his imagination.

"I can explain-" you quietly said, your voice coming out as nothing but a mere whisper. Your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

Clearly just as unsure how to process what he had seen as you were, he simply turned on his heel and fled the room, quickly marching out of the knights' common area altogether.

There was no time for you to panic, you forced yourself to take a deep breath, pulled your helmet on and took off after him, still only wearing your under-layers. As you dashed out, your brothers paid you little mind, they were too caught up in their conversation to notice the commotion.

"Master Ren, wait." You called to him as he was striding ahead of you.

In one sharp motion he turned to you, pushing you against the wall, his gloved hand clasped around your neck where he could see wisps of hair falling out from beneath your helmet.

"I want you to leave this base, and pray that I never see you again." He was cutting off your airwaves, but nevertheless you still attempted to choke out.

"M-Master Ren, please. I-I had to lie." You tried to explain, your voice coming out as a strained croak.

"And now you have to leave." He hissed, the betrayal in his tone was clear. Without another word he released you and went storming off down the corridor again.

You had no idea what to do, or who to turn to. Perhaps it was just best to heed Kylo's warning and leave. You feared that if Kylo's reaction had been nothing short of death threats, you would be met with a very similar reaction from your fellow knights, but part of you also thought that they deserved to know the truth before you abandoned them.

Besides, now you had nothing left to lose.

When you arrived back in the common area, the knights were all lost in their merriment. Clearly a few drinks down, you could tell they were slightly tipsy, although perhaps that would make this easier.

"I need to tell you something." You planted yourself in the middle of the room, and were immediately met by jeering, something you would've normally embraced and enjoyed, but now your reaction was stone cold.

"Hopefully you're telling us that you're ready to have some fun!" Cardo bellowed, "c'mon Nuren, loosen up a bit."

"No." You grumbled, "I wish I could." Before you open yourself up to more teasing, you reached up and unlatched your helmet, silently revealing the truth to the knights. "You came to my planet looking for my brother, but you got me instead." You quietly explained, dreading the reactions that were to come.

It was so silent that you could hear a pin drop, and part of you feared that they would kill you on the spot for lying to them. Slowly, your brothers rose to their feet, seemingly sobering up in that moment.

"So for all these years, you've been pretending to be your brother?" Ushar asked, his voice level, so much so that you couldn't read his emotions.

"Yes." You hung your head in guilt.

The ominous silence fell once more, and you couldn't bear it any longer. However, as you opened your mouth to speak, a stifled laugh broke through the crippling silence.

You whipped around and saw Kuruk with a hand covering his mouth. "Sorry it's just-" before he could finish there were more uncontrollable laughs escaping his lips. Clearly this laughter was contagious, because before you knew it it was spreading throughout the room.

"I-I can't believe you said you had taken an oath t-to not take the helmet off!" Ap'lek struggled to get his words out through the laughter, "a kriffing oath!" He exclaimed, leaning on Vicrul who was beside him, as they tried to regain their composure.

"This... is really not the reaction I was expecting." Entirely unsure of what to do, you just stood and stared at them all as they continued to crease in fits of laughter. But after a few moments you found yourself unable to avoid the contagious laughter, but you of all people really had no clue what you found so funny.

You were all in stitches for another few minutes before it died down, and despite the circumstances the laughter made you feel as though some of the weight had been lifted off your shoulders. Knowing that your fellow knights weren't angry at you was a much needed relief.

"So why not tell us the truth?" Vicrul eventually asked once they could form coherent sentences.

"The Knights of Ren was no place for a woman." You sighed, throwing yourself down on the couch with your head in your hands, "I wish I had told you earlier, but I always thought you'd be angry - I really didn't expect the laughing fit."

"C'mon Nuren, you should have known us better than that. No matter what, we're brothers... well, now you're our first sister." Ushar chuckled, giving you a solid pat on the back.

As the others echoed his sentiment, you appreciated more than anything that they weren't treating you any differently just because of your gender. There was still that sense of familiarity, and the brotherhood... it was just a shame you couldn't stay.

"So why tell us now?" Ap'lek eventually asked.

"Master Ren-" your tone immediately became more downcast as you remembered the gravity of the situation, "he found out the truth, and he told me to leave. I thought before I go I at least owed you all the truth."

Glances were exchanged, before Cardo spoke up, "no, we won't let you leave."

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest at the gesture, but you couldn't allow yourself to fall into that safety blanket. "Master Ren will have my head if I stay. I betrayed him, and you all know how he responds to betrayal."

"But you forget Nuren, you're a Knight of Ren, and we never leave a brother behind." Trudgen said. "...Or a sister." He then hastened to add.

><><><><><><><><><><><

It had only been a week since everyone had found out the truth. Whilst your fellow knights actually gotten on better with you now that you could drink and socialise with them, the same could not be said for Kylo Ren.

Firstly, he was less than happy about being undermined when it came to you leaving the base. Now you were a constant reminder of his own empty threat. But more importantly, what you didn't realise was that he wanted you gone more than ever because he was developing an inexplicable attraction to you. The worst part was, it wasn't just physical. Whilst he would sit moping in the corner he could see the way you were around the other knights - they clearly adored you, and the fact that a female presence was actually having a positive effect on the group made it even harder for Ren to despise you. He saw the way you could light up a room, and he couldn't help but want you. He was angry for allowing himself to feel such a way, and that unfortunately manifested itself as anger towards you.

The other knights, meanwhile, couldn't possibly look at you in such a way. Perhaps had they met you for the first time as strangers, they would have relentlessly flirted with you as they did so many other women. But you had all spent too much time together in too many awkward situations to ever see each other as more than adopted-siblings.

You were so relieved to finally be able to relax around the knights, but there was always that tension whenever you were around Master Ren. You had been desperately trying to prove yourself to him to show him that you were the same knight you had always been, regardless of your gender - although deep down you knew that it had nothing to do with the fact you were a woman, it was the fact that you had lied to him...

Although for Kylo it was none of these. He knew he had overreacted when he'd first found out the truth, and now he was relieved that the other knights had vouched for you and made him change his mind and let you stay.

You were all sat in the common area, your legs casually thrown over Trudgen's lap for comfort. You each had a drink in hand, as was standard practise for you all on evenings when you had nothing else to do.

"I seriously don't think I can go much longer putting up with him constantly glaring at me." You scoffed, discussing Kylo's apparent hatred of you.

"Sure he used to do that, but now I don't think he's glaring... I don't know, I'm just not getting the same angry energy off him that I was last week." Ap'lek pondered, shrugging his shoulders.

"What do you mean?" Your brow furrowed, but Kuruk was quick to catch on.

"No, Ap'lek's right. He's not glaring, he's staring." He playfully smacked his forehead, "I can't believe we didn't spot it sooner."

"Holy shit, you're right." Vicrul was next to chime in.

You all had a low-level bond through the Force, so you knew pretty much what they were thinking, but that didn't mean you agreed with them.

"Oh come on, Master Ren won't even talk to me anymore and you think that means he likes me? He literally had his hand around my throat a week ago." You snorted, rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, well maybe you enjoyed that." Trudgen teased you from the other side of the sofa, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows, but you swiftly threw a cushion at his face to shut him up.

"It makes so much sense the more I think about it." Ap'lek laughed, shaking his head, "he won't talk to you because he doesn't know how to process emotions. Come on Nuren, when have you ever seen him flirt, or even be nice to a woman?"

Before you could reply, Vicrul summarised it, "it's because he doesn't know how!" At that they all hollered and nudged each other in agreement.

"You're all out of your minds," you laughed, "he wants me dead, not-" before you could finish your sentence with a crude joke, the blast doors flew open to reveal the man himself, and you immediately all fell silent.

It wasn't necessarily unusual for him to come and join you all in your living area, but he hadn't done so since he found out the truth about you. Not to mention, he had picked an awful moment to enter.

"What? You all look like someone's died." He huffed, helping himself to a drink before moving to sit down.

You meanwhile did the opposite and removed your legs from Trudgen's lap and stood up, retiring to your quarters without another word. You didn't particularly want to put up with his glaring, or 'staring' as the knights had now deemed it.

There was nothing to do in your quarters, and you immediately realised that you had just stormed off and now were stuck, so you made a point of dressing in some simple training clothes and heading back out to walk through the common area with your helmet in hand. You pulled it over your head before leaving the rest of the knights alone with Kylo and went off to your training area to run some drills alone.

In your absence, and after their apparent revelation, the other knights decided that that it was time to address the elephant in the room with Kylo.

"Master Ren, you know Nuren thinks that you hate her, right?" Ushar said, to which Kylo just tried to play it off with a nonchalant shrug.

"I don't hate her." He said, his tone not wavering. He certainly didn't want any of them finding out the truth behind his cold behaviour.

"Trust me, we know that." He replied, in a very pointed tone which made it clear that they had worked out the truth about Kylo's feelings, "but she doesn't know that." He then added.

He clearly wanted to protest, but it was obvious that the knights could see right through him and his nonchalance.

They simply all stared at him, expectantly, until eventually Kylo exhaled a heavy sigh, taking a long drink before speaking again. "Fine, I get the point." He rose to his feet, "I'll go and talk to her." He reluctantly agreed to do what he had been dreading. He had no idea how to process any emotion that wasn't anger.

As soon as he left, the knights began discussing every possible outcome. Little did you know that they had practically planned your wedding, since they had decided that not only would you be good for Kylo, he would be good for you.

Blissfully unaware of everything that had just happened, you were alone in the training room swinging a blunt training weapon against a dummy, who was taking the brunt of your frustration. You had left your helmet by the door.

When the blast doors opened to reveal a sheepish looking Kylo Ren, you were less than happy - and it was written all over your face. Nevertheless, you stood to attention.

"Master Ren." You nodded, "I thought you were with the others." You desperately wanted to replicate his bad attitude and make a cutting remark, but you knew that simply wouldn't help your case. No matter what, you had to show respect to your leader.

"I came to talk to you." He said, his tone coming out much darker than intended.

"With all due respect Sir, if you want me to leave that badly, it's the other knights you need to talk to - they're the reason why I'm still here." You relaxed your stance and went back to swinging at the dummy as you spoke.

"That's not it." He said, walking around to stand behind the dummy so he was in your eye-line, "I'm glad you're still here." He eventually admitted, practically through gritted teeth. Every muscle in his body had stiffened.

You stepped back from your training, brow furrowed, "you are?" You hated the way your heart rate increased at his words. Through it all, you still couldn't deny your own attraction to Kylo Ren, perhaps that was why his cold attitude had been so hurtful to you.

"Yes." He plainly said, having no inclination of what else he could possibly say.

"Then why are you acting so off with me?" You hesitantly asked, at which point he looked down at his feet. This had been the question he was hoping you wouldn't ask, because he was afraid to answer it.

"I-" he began, before sealing his lips again. Whatever words he wanted to say simply wouldn't form in his mouth. He was truly tongue-tied, but thankfully his body decided that it was ready to move again - actions did tend to speak louder than words.

Boldly, he moved towards you and captured your lips in a heated kiss, pouring all the words he couldn't say into this gesture.

You were stunned to say the least, your training weapon falling to the floor. But it wasn't long before your lips responded and returned the kiss. Kylo's arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him, your hands resting on his chest.

However, it didn't take long for your brain to catch up and you briefly pulled away from his lips for long enough to speak. "So you... like me, like me, and you tried to show me that by being miserable around me?" You asked him, just needing to clarify his odd behaviour.

Suddenly feeling much looser now that he had made a move, he responded with a smirk, "did it work?" He teased.

"Not so much, I think you perhaps need to try being less of an asshole in future Master Ren." You responded with a snarky remark, knowing that you could definitely get away with teasing him now.

"I think from now on, just Kylo is fine." He exhaled a short laugh and leaned back in to kiss you.

It wasn't long before you either had to break away, or have sex right there in the training room and you both silently agreed that the latter wasn't really a practical option.

"Your quarters?" You prompted, still tangled in his arms. Really this whole scenario still felt surreal to you. You had crushed on Kylo Ren for longer than you cared to admit, then when he had found out the truth about your gender he had reacted less than favourably... and now suddenly here you were. Only he could react to developing feels for you by acting as though he hated you.

His face dropped and he grimaced slightly, "we-uh, we can't." He sheepishly explained.

"Why not?" Your brow furrowed, immediately thinking that taking him back to your quarters would be quite an embarrassing affair with all of the other knights being in the common area.

"There are technicians in there repairing Lightsaber damage." He said it casually, but you could read between the lines well enough to know that 'Lightsaber damage' meant that he'd had a tantrum and trashed his own quarters.

"Are you brave enough to come to my quarters?" You smirked up at him with an eyebrow raised.

"I think you're overestimating how much they'll care." He said, and you definitely couldn't fault his optimism, but you knew that the knights most certainly would care.

With the steamy moment beginning to waste away you hastily walked side by side back to the Knights of Ren's common area. You had your helmet on again as you walked, but as soon as you entered you removed it, and it still felt surreal that you now had that freedom.

"Nuren, is that you?" Kuruk's voice was the first to call out, none of them turning around from where they sat, still with drinks in hand.

"Yep, it's me." You quickly said, ushering Kylo into your quarters in the hope that none of them would notice.

"Did you and Master Ren kiss and make up?" Cardo asked, clearly teasing you, but chose to turn around at simply the perfect moment to catch you in the act.

Halfway through the blast doors to your private quarters you and Kylo froze, and a sheepish grin rose up onto your lips.

"Oh so you literally kissed and made up." Ushar then said, the smirks appearing on all of their lips foreshadowing some relentless teasing.

"Well... kinda." You tried to play it off, but before you could make any poor excuses, Kylo simply pulled you through the doors and had his lips on yours as they shut behind you.

As you guided him back towards the bed, you could hear the knights outside loudly wolf-whistling and jeering.

You had only wanted to be able to take your helmet off comfortably around the knights - now you not only had that, you had Kylo Ren too. In exchange for that you could definitely put up with the teasing from your brothers.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo x reader #kylo x you #kylo x y/n

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a-jumped-up-pantry-boy · 4 years

Text

Please excuse this thing, I decided that I should write something while running low on sleep and high on caffeine, and this was the substandard result: Remus and Sirius being Library Boys (because I like books and why not) in a few thousand words. (Also @onlydreamofmysoul kind of inspired this because your dedication with ficmas made me want to write, so I’m blaming you for this disaster) His tea is far too hot, but he gulps down mouthfuls anyway, knowing he’ll need the sugar to have even the smallest chance of actually staying awake during his library shift tonight; the night shifts are his favourite, because he’s usually free to just stack books without being interrupted, but on nights like this, he can barely stay awake. Inputting yet another barcode into the aging computer, a repetitive task that needs no brain power whatsoever, he internally groans when someone walks over to the desk.

“Hi, I’m wondering if you can find me the worst book in here?” Remus doesn’t startle at the request, doesn’t even lift his eyes from the list he’s reading.

“My autobiography might fill that category for you. It’s called “Why My Parents Should Have Left Me By A Motorway”, and it - oh. Fuck.” It’s only then that he remembers that people can hear what he says, and that most of his internal monologue shouldn’t be heard by other people.

“And on what shelf would I find that book?” The guy is smiling, thank God, and Remus is sure he recognises him from a class. Probably a language, he thinks. The man opposite him definitely seems like a language kind of guy. He also seems like a very, very attractive kind of guy, but that’s neither here nor there.

“Actually, it’s still in publication - there’s still more stuff they can add to the book, you know, since my life keeps getting worse - but maybe you’d like a classic instead?”

“I read enough classics as it is, but maybe-” It’s at this moment Lily, who’s at the end of her shift and is putting her mug back in the sink, walks by and decides to get involved.

“Just so you know, children’s abridged versions don’t count as reading classics. Not when you’re in your twenties,” she says, grinning far too energetically for midnight.

“Fuck off, Evans. I just want a really shit book. We’re talking My Immortal kind of shit, but published.” Remus wonders where Lily knows the guy from, and then remembers her once telling him about a strange, yet endearing, man who was obsessed with her and his best friend, and presumes the man opposite him is one of the two.

“I’m not sure books like that generally get published, and if they do we probably don’t have them here.” Remus stares curiously at him, taking in the messy, yet somehow still perfect, hair and the tattoo - because of course he has a tattoo, all hot guys have tattoos, it seems - peeking out from the back of his shirt. “What do you want with the worst written book anyway?”

“I’m glad you asked.” He waves his arm, gesturing to the library, and sinks into one of the chairs. “I’m doing an experiment. Both my brothers are literature nerds, and they’re becoming too poncy for me. So I’m gonna really hype this book up, make it look like everyone loves it, and then give them a shit - really, really shit - book, and see what they say.”

“Too poncy? I can practically smell the wealth coming off you, and yet you’re not poncy?” Remus sometimes thinks that maybe he should consider the things he says, and now is one of the times he regrets not being slightly more sensitive. Or, like, polite. The stranger looks shocked for a second, then smirks and hoists himself off the chair.

“That’s fair. But, they both study Classics, so they’re automatically poncier than me.” Lily walks past again as the man speaks, and stops to glare at him.

“Are you calling me poncy? I had to work day and night to be accepted here, and I didn’t have a family name getting me in, and there was no using money to-”

“Lils,” Remus says, interrupting her before she can go on a well intentioned, but unnecessary, tirade. “He’s talking about his brothers. Don’t worry, nobody’s accusing you of swimming in bribery-money.”

“Bribery money? Is that a thing?” The man goes to take a square of Remus’ chocolate, and he all but slaps his hand away.

“You tell us. You’re the one with all the insider knowledge of ponces and Tories.”

“Okay, I can excuse being called poncy, but a Tory? That’s too far, even for me.” Remus has the decency to pretend to be sorry, even though he’s one step away from crying with laughter; a man who sounds like he wouldn’t be out of place at Buckingham Palace, getting offended at being associated with Tories. Luckily, he doesn’t have to pretend to be remorseful for long, because Lily lets out a burst of laughter before he can apologise.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you came out wearing a blue pin button and cheering on Margaret Thatcher. You might not be a Tory, but don’t try and tell us your family has been voting Labour for years. You can’t blame us for assumptions.”

“Actually, I came out wearing a rainbow pin, not a blue one. But, I guess I get it. The majority of ponces here are Tories.” Remus feels his heart speed up - if he said that to Lily, she’d definitely start making notes to check he wasn’t having a heart attack, the dramatic woman - at the mention of the man’s gayness. He could have a chance. A small chance, admittedly, but a chance. Lily finally decides to leave, and Remus waves her goodbye as he leads the man down a pathway of bookshelves, on the hunt for the worst book ever published.

“So, what’s your name? And what’re you studying, if not Classics?” Remus asks, inspecting the shelves for something, anything that hints at a terrible book.

“Erm, don’t laugh, but my name’s Sirius. And I’m studying Philosophy and Modern Languages.” Remus looks up from the bookshelf, not even trying not to giggle.

“Sirius? But no, you’re not poncy at all. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. So, modern languages? That’s where I recognise you from.”

“Recognise me? Have you been stalking the University buildings, searching for my pretty face?”

“No, you dolt, we take several classes together. I’m doing English and Modern Languages, hence the sharing of classes.”

“Oh, we take basically the same degree then.”

“We definitely don’t. I’d never be caught dead taking philosophy - I hate my life already, and now I’ve got to come up with bullshit theories of why?” Sirius - Remus can’t get over the name, even though his is equally as ridiculous - opens his mouth, about to protest, and then closes it again.

“Actually, that basically is what we do. How come you’re making me evaluate all my life choices in the span of five minutes?”

“I don’t know, maybe you should consult a philosopher to find out why. That’s what they do, right?” Although his tone is meant to be teasing, the same kind of jokes he makes with Lily, instead it comes out as flirting, though he can’t imagine Sirius minds much, because he’s smirking at him and looking like he wants to kiss him.

“Take that back, and say my degree is perfectly valid.” Sirius takes a small step towards him, and he doesn’t step back, instead looking him square in the eye and raising his eyebrows.

“Make me, philosophy boy.” He takes another step towards him, and Remus is certain he could feel Sirius’ heartbeat against his chest, if he tried hard enough to sense it. Instead he winks, and says, “Or don’t, and go ask why you’re searching for validation from some random boy you met in the library fifteen minutes ago.”

“In my defence, the library boy is incredibly hot.” They’re touching all over now, chest to chest, their noses rubbing against each other. Remus’ back hits the bookshelf as their mouths crash together, and he hears the distinct noise of books falling to the floor. Later on, when he’s restacking all the books, he’ll regret snogging someone right up against the bookshelf, but right now he runs his hand through Sirius’ hair and smiles against his mouth. He likes the night shift even more now.

#wolfstar #library #my book obsession is shining through #i'm sorry that this monstrosity had to cross your screens #I'm seeking validation I probably don't deserve lol

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