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hyunnie04 · 6 months

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cat and mouse

summary: your co-worker has been on your case ever since you've started your time at the company. a strange turn of events and circumstance changes all that.

pairing: coworker! lee know x reader

trope: enemies to lovers <3, office au

genre: slight angst, smut, and fluff

warnings: fem-bodied reader, oral, creampie, overstim, unprotected sex, bulge kink, spitting, etc. 18+ mdni

word count: 9.8k

a/n: a little practice piece for you guys, i hope i did well;; so sorry this took me so long to write :( i also hope it's cohesive enough, i keep writing this fic on and off sleep deprived lol

tick…

tock…

tick…

to-

“the clock isn’t going to speed up just because you keep staring at it.” the cubicle beside you chirps in, momentarily shaking you out of your thoughts. by now, you’ve trained to pay him no mind as you keep your focus on the clock that reads 4:56 pm, almost taunting you in a way.

a few more minutes and you’ll be home free for the weekend. maybe you can finally relax and get away from your dreaded paperwork. perhaps look through your shopping apps since you had nothing else better to do for the weekend, or better yet- you could run a well deserved bath with that bath bomb you always wanted to use but never got a chance to. all the possibilities sounded heavenly although all that would have to actually wait until you get home.

one other thing that you had been anticipating all day was having that dinner after work with jeongin- your close friend and coworker from a different department. he had been begging you for ages to finally try that one soba place that opened up nearby with him. you being a good friend, agreed.

“you might actually melt the clock if you keep doing that y’know.” your cubicle neighbor- lee minho smirks, now standing and leaning over your workspace.

"what do you want?" pointedly asking him.

"oh, nothing. nothing."

“you just don’t ever shut up, do you?” you deadpan and tilt your chin up to stare at him, minho just offers a sly smirk in return. he always liked to bother and butt into your business for some odd reason.

minho shrugs, “it’s fun teasing you. you do that thing where you scrunch your nose when you get riled up.” a vain visibly pops up from your forehead, but turn to your computer, hoping to drown him out with your typing.

you knew better than to give him a reaction. if you had a penny for how many times that particular vein popped from your forehead because of minho, you’d probably be a millionaire by now.

“oh, one more thing-” the brown haired man saunters back to his desk, and comes back to yours with a huge stack of papers. he unceremoniously plops it down, the annoying feline-like grin on his face.

“what’s…this?” raising an eyebrow at him, you hope it's not what you think he's planning. you have plans. he crosses his arms and pushes his framed glasses back.

“paperwork, of course.” you wanted to strangle him. “yes, i’m well aware that this is paperwork. why is it now on my desk?”

before you could protest any further, “they want this finished by next week.” he leans to practically whisper in your ear. minho grins mischievously after he sees your pink flustered face take a step back.

the humongous stack was already on his desk, so your boss most likely assigned it to him in the first place. you furrow your eyebrows and turn to him, worst fear coming true.

"ohh no. not in a million years." you get up from your seat, avoiding the offending pile. he starts going back to his desk, neatly placing his things in it's organizers.

“why can’t you finish it? you- what are you doing?” but minho was already grabbing his bag and blazer and looking at his wrist watch.

“would you look at the time- thanks for covering for me!” aaaand he's gone.

plopping down on your chair, you bury your face in your hands, stopping yourself from pulling out hair. frustration creases on your forehead. well, you could kiss that dinner with jeongin goodbye. now you definitely want to strangle him.

lee minho. if you were to find a personification of the word annoying, the brunette would certainly be it. that man has done nothing but annoy the hell out of you ever since you started your time in the company. other people in your department often regarded him as one of the most reliable and polite employees here.

you would inwardly scoff at the frequent mention of minho and his apparent “reliable-ness and politeness” since all he was, was just the opposite. to you at least. it was hard to believe at first.

but then you actually saw the way he carried himself with effortlessness and composure, handled business affairs, and how he mingled so seamlessly with fellow colleagues. it was nothing short of professional.

so you had a theory that he was only like that towards you. a complete dick only to you. you although weren’t quite sure why.

the girls in your department would often talk about him as well, mostly for his appearance. you really weren’t one for gossiping but you would listen in sometimes, curious about what they see in him. it was hard not to when they would gush about their workplace crushes and love lives so openly, a tinge of envy seeps through your bones every time it would be mentioned. you have got to get laid one day.

“he’s totally my type, you think i should ask him out?” your other cubicle neighbor says quite loudly during her break. her friend beside her shakes their head, “no, no you can’t.”

“why not? isn't he hot and available?” she asks absentmindedly. you start to zone out for a minute, only catching bits and pieces of their conversation. but you contemplate about what she said for a second, you would be lying if you said that lee minho was unattractive.

far from that actually. distinctly remembering catching a few glimpses of him from your first day, intrigued and interest piqued. his sharp nose and cheek bones, features were like sculpted by michaelangelo himself, his toned and lean figure accentuated by the perfectly well fit suit that he always seem to wear.

you definitely found him attractive at first.

that was until he started annoying you, so all of that was quickly out the window.

but you would probably end yourself before admitting that to anyone. you let out a disgruntled sigh, appearance wouldn’t really matter if he wasn’t such a knob to begin with.

as you approached your dimly lit street, all you could think about was that feline faced jerk. what was he thinking, dumping all that work on you last minute? you felt really bad about cancelling on jeongin, texting him earlier about the sudden change of schedule. the dark haired man you've come to know just replies with a little;

'we'll just try again next week lol'

you breathe out a relieved sigh, thankful that he wasn't mad. kicking the pebbles on the side of the road, you imagined that the little rocks were minho's face. you could not wait until you get home.

“stupid paperwork, stupid minho, stupid…”

your muttering fades and you suddenly stop in your tracks as your elderly neighbor waves you over from her front door, grandma lee or just grandma- as she insists you call her instead.

you bowed and greeted her, “hi grandma, did you need something?” you were quite close with the sweet old lady, her gray hair swaying lightly in the wind.

the elder would often check up on you after hearing that you traveled all the way from your hometown to the city, almost taking you in as her own. you were grateful for the company since homesickness would often creep up. she would also often bring you comically large jars of kimchi which you appreciated greatly.

she smiles as she gestures to the multiple bags she was holding, "i just need a little help getting these inside the house, dear." you take the heavy bags from her hands. what were in these, rocks? grandma claps her hands together in remembrance.

“have you had dinner yet? i made extra.”

grandma sets a bowl in front of you, the sight of seaweed soup instantly brings you comfort. your stomach grumbles as you dig in. she watches you intently as you practically inhale the soup, starved from the long and terrible day you had.

you sent her a polite questioning look. “i want to ask you for a favor.” she finally starts, flicking through the channels of her tv. the weather was on, the forecaster droning on about rain happening this week in the same monotone voice for the past 10 minutes. you look at her and nod immediately, she had done so much for you, doing a few favors aren't going to hurt.

“do you have a car, dear?”

blowing on the steaming hot seaweed soup, you nod again at her question, wondering where this conversation is heading.

“i need someone to drive me to my son’s house tomorrow, i'm staying over there for the weekend and my bags are a little heavy. would that be alright with you, dear?” you’ve heard about her family from her stories when she would have you over like now, little bits and pieces. you smile and agree.

a cheshire grin graces your features after a moment. “what’s in it for me?” it was a joke of course, grandma knew it too. having spent a large amount of time with her, your humor must’ve rubbed off at some point.

you didn’t expect her to actually answer but she replies, “actually, i’d like you to meet my grandson as well. i think you two would get along. he's the same age as you too.”

the aforementioned grandson was someone you’ve seen in a bunch of grandma lee’s hallway pictures. you remember that he was an only child, often the only kid and the lone subject in the photos. your favorite was the kid in red with a toothy grin. he must’ve been 5 when it was taken.

"it was a joke, grandma. i'm sure your grandson wouldn't want a stranger suddenly coming to meet him." she shakes her head,

"nonsense. that boy doesn't know what he wants." you laugh at her persistence. getting another bowl of rice, you ponder her offer for a second. maybe this could finally cure your dull and dry love life, it couldn't hurt to try. if worse comes to worst, you could just pretend it never happened.

“but of course, i’ll drive you there. i have nothing to do anyways.” you say with a mouthful of rice. grandma pats you on the back and continues to flick through the channels once more.

“thank you dear.”

the sunset blears through your windshield, sun rays momentarily blinding you. it was clear as day. the ride to her family’s house was relatively quiet, the elderly lady in your passenger seat preferred to sleep the whole ride through after handing you the address, giving you a moment to leave you in your thoughts.

pulling up to the neighborhood, you let out a low whistle. the house was at the end of the street, steep and uphill. it was surely going to be a struggle to get the car way up there.

you get to the curb, reverse and try to park your car as best as you can. the house was really pretty, you thought. it looked pretty lived in too, but in a cozy way. vines was sprawled all over the brick exterior and flowers had bloomed all over the property.

you wake up grandma and start to haul her luggage up and out the car.

"you go up, grandma. i'll catch up."

after struggling to get the multiple bags of luggage up hill, you finally waddle to the front door. the door was left slightly ajar, probably for your convenience. you took a quick peek around, hoping for someone to let you in.

calling out before entering, you were met with silence. you figured they were too busy catching up so you eventually let yourself in.

the furniture adorning the hallway and rooms were made out of wood, the handiwork and craftsmanship was evident, intricate carvings on each and every one of them. it must’ve been made by grandma lee’s son as you’ve heard from her many stories.

a ginger cat with white stripes greets you as you enter the front door, it strides over to you in intrigue. leaning down and dropping grandma's bags gently, you let the feline sniff your hand before allowing itself to be pet. soon enough it starts rubbing its body on your legs and purring loudly. adorable cat, you thought.

silence fills the house, aside from the soft chatter coming from the other side of the wall. the cat leaves it's spot, not wanting to be pet anymore. you sit up and observe the house again, noticing a myriad of family photos adorning the walls and some of the tables.

coming closer to one of the pictures, again, you encounter the same young boy in red but this time he was wearing a cap sideways and a puffer jacket that seemed to be way too big for him.

"hello! you must be y/n!" a feminine voice suddenly calls out from the living room. you straighten your back from the mention of your name, hoping she didn't catch you closely staring at their personal and probably private photos. grandma lee comes out from the living room as well and walks towards you with a younger and kind looking woman in tow. she had another cat in her arms, this time it's coat was gray with dark streaks.

you smile and greet her politely, exchanging pleasantries. you quietly pick up the neglected bags and place them near the guest room. they continue their conversation with each other from before, you now awkwardly standing in the middle. looking at your wrist watch, you figured you should probably head on home.

"i suppose i'll get going now, it was really nice meeting you." mrs. lee looked startled at your sudden announcement.

"why don't you stay for a while? it must've been a long drive here, you're probably hungry." these two women weren't related by blood but they practically were, having the same idea when it came to hospitality.

"well, i don't want to overstay my welcome. i'm just here to give grandma a ride." smoothening out your non-existent clothes wrinkles in apprehension.

she waves her hand in dismissal, "but you must stay, you're already here anyways." she grins and pats your back. mrs. lee didn't seem to budge at your refusal.

you relented, finally accepting her offer. "my son is in the kitchen whipping something up. he's a great cook." you totally forgot about her son being actually here. the joke offer from yesterday completely forgotten and flew out of your mind. slight embarrassment runs through you, realizing that the offer was somewhat serious. you would surely need to mentally prep yourself for more socialization than you've anticipated.

but you instantly believe her claim that her son was a great cook, the amazing and aromatic smell of what seems to be steak and multiple herbs and spices from the kitchen wafts through out the entire house.

"okay- while we're waiting," mrs. lee gestures for you to take a seat, "you should go sit on the couch, y/n. i've been dying to meet you."

she hands you a mug of hot tea and sits down next to you. "mom here talks about you all the time, thank you for keeping her company."

"it's no problem at all, i like her company too." and with that, the three of you fall into a smooth and comfortable rhythm of conversation. the younger of the two women across from you continues to poke and prod into life, not that you minded. she would ask you about your life, where were you from, where you went to school, and where you went to work and among other things.

she offers you stories of her son gleefully in return, laughing about a particularly embarrassing story when he was younger. you learned that he was quite fond and talented in dancing, loves cats, and loves to cook. oddly enough mrs. lee never mentioned his name at all, you didn't want to pry. now that you've thought about it, grandma hadn't mentioned his name at all either. all you had for a lead was initials you remember seeing etched on one of grandma's photos. you figured you'd meet this person soon enough anyways.

after a while, grandma lee retreats to the guest room they've set up, assuming that she'd want to fix her belongings. mrs. lee starts to drag you around the house, urging you to help her set the plates up and talk more while doing so. midway through placing the chopsticks on the table, the sound of pots and pans clanging from the other room shakes you out of your thoughts.

"mom?" a voice calls out from their kitchen. it must be her son. you slightly raise your eyebrows, he sounds oddly familiar but you can't place your finger who he might've sounded like. you quickly brush it off.

"yes?"

"have you seen the slow cooker?" the man finally reveals himself and pokes his head through the entryway to the kitchen.

you lift your head and lock eyes with the said person. shock freezes your movements, dropping the utensils that you were holding. blinking owlishly in surprise, you weren't sure if what you were seeing was real.

you feel the wind knock out of your lungs. this was not happening. the brown eyes, brown hair, and cat like face from work that you've come to dislike stared back. you must be hallucinating.

standing across from you was lee minho, the lee minho. grandma lee’s grandson. the same one that's been tormenting you all year round. you just couldn't believe it, wondering what kind of luck you had to end up here.

you think back to when you looking (--more like snooping) at grandma lee's framed hallway photos, the kid- that was him all along? you're really bad at recognizing faces, you thought to yourself. well, she certainly made him seem like a complete angel from the stories.

"oh! this is y/n. your grandmother invited her to eat dinner with us." mrs. lee pulls your figure closer into a side hug and beams at her son.

he furrows his eyebrows at you, glancing back and forth at you and his mother. he must be as confused and shocked as you are. "hi." minho says, nodding at your direction. you purse your lips and shuffle uncomfortably in place.

minho again asks where the slow cooker was since the first time he asked was ignored. he was wearing a loose fitting shirt, his broad shoulders looking more prominent. you realize you've never seen him outside of his work attire before. he looked comfortable, domestic even.

his mom says to check the cupboards, paying him no mind and continuing to set the table up. minho nods slowly, eyes not leaving yours and heads back to the kitchen. a little shell shocked about your little encounter, you clear your throat and go back to the task at hand. you'd just have to deal with this for the evening and then you could go home.

when the table was done, mrs. lee turns to you, "y/n? would you mind helping minho over there with bringing the side dishes to the table?" you freeze at the realization that you would have to interact with him alone.

"sure." you say meekly. she thanks you and goes to the guest room to presumably get the older lady for dinner. psyching your self up before entering the kitchen, his broad back facing you. he senses your presence and chuckles.

you were sure he was going to make this whole night unbearable.

"well, this is a nice surprise."

"what are you doing here?" stupid question from you seeing as this was his own house. mentally face palming your head, he hums smugly and starts dividing the side dishes onto smaller plates. you notice his very toned arms flexing as he puts the tubs away.

"i should be asking you that. i didn't expect you to be here." he says nonchalantly, but you could feel a sly smile forming on his face as he speaks.

"neither did i." you grumble and lightly shove him aside, wanting to get the side dishes out to the table already. you ignore the way he looks so domestic right now.

you stare at him from directly across the table, hoping he would keep his mouth shut. he smirks while he eats, purposefully riling you up and glancing at you with a knowing grin.

do not lose your cool, y/n.

silence rings out the dining room aside from the quiet clattering of utensils on plates.

"y/n?"

"i'm sorry?" you snap out of your little less than friendly staring contest with him.

"do... you know each other?" his mother finally breaks the silence and here eyes flickers back and forth between both of you.

"yes-"

"no-"

a full on headache is surely forming now, it's going to be hard to hide your annoyance. quick, think of a lie.

"we're coworkers. same company." you grimace as he answers for the both of you. no use in hiding it now. "oh! that's wonderful." the older lady to your right clasps her hands in delight.

"you didn't tell me you worked together." grandma turns to you grinning brightly. you avoid eye contact with her, nodding and forcing out a smile. you wanted nothing more than want the ground to swallow you up right then and there.

"you two must be close." his mother says, sipping at her drink. you were about to open your mouth to say that you really aren't actually, but minho beats you to the punch.

"we kind of are." minho rests his elbows on the table and turns to you. he's enjoying this. the bastard was enjoying this. resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you turn back to finish your meal.

hatred for the man aside, he really was a great cook as mentioned countless of times. you actually find yourself enjoying the meal he had prepared.

"tell me what you two get up to at work, i want to hear all of it."

you shift uncomfortably in your seat, being honest wouldn't be the best idea. you didn't want these two lovely women to know how much of an unpleasant man their son and grandson is. and it was his house after all, the best decision might be to at least be civil with him.

so you play along with his facade, not wanting to disappoint them even if it was probably going to bite you in the ass later.

minho starts cutting the meat up into bite sized pieces while the conversation between the two ladies continue. he places it on your plate without saying anything. this takes you by surprise, looking at his face for an answer.

the two audience members among the dining table seems to have noticed your little exchange. a wrinkly hand touches over yours catches your attention.

"oh, so are you two..." she trails off, implication heavy on her tone.

"no- no, grandma. i told you i wasn't seeing anyone." you shoot a discrete glare towards minho.

"ah, i see..."

you shrink down your seat for the remainder of the hour, embarrassment flooding your being. why did he have to do that? you were already practically fighting for your life not to get too involved with all this, and he pulls that?

after that very eventful dinner, it was already nearing 8 pm. you figured that you should probably get out of their hair, not wanting to disturb them than you already had. that bubble bath and movie marathon you had planned in your head sounded amazing right about now. maybe that would help you forget about this crazy night.

"grandma," she turns in response, "i think i better get going." you smile at her, digging through your pockets for the car keys. a different cat from the other two that you've met takes long strides, stopping by your feet. you greet it by petting it's head gently. you wondered how many cats they have.

"now? look at the weather dear," you look briefly at the window nearest you, surely enough it was heavily pouring. you deflate at the sight.

"i don't think it's a great idea to drive out in a storm." she looks at you in concern. crap. the conversation at dinner must've carried you away, not even noticing the angry rumble of thunder that came from the sky. she was right, you don't think you could drive out there immediately.

the last time you drove into hard pelting rain, you couldn’t see through the windshield and almost crashed your car in the process. you could still remember how your car swerved and screeched when you couldn't control the way the tires' direction.

reluctantly dropping your hands to your side in defeat, "i guess i can wait it out for a bit." you finally say.

"yes, please do stay. we made extra dessert!" mrs. lee chuckles, seemingly enjoying your presence. glancing at minho, he was leaning on the side of the couch watching the exchange between you three, uncharacteristically silent and expression unreadable.

you reckon he wasn't all that thrilled about the whole thing either.

"the storm isn't letting up." minho sighs next to you, observing the dark and heavy rain pelting the window. it continues to pour down, filing in the silence.

"great." you mumble lowly, crossing your arms. a loud cackle of thunder makes you jump from your spot. he just laughs in response. you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, anxiety quietly eating at you. damn weather man. you should've paid more attention to the forecast.

the smart watch on your wrist flashes with a notification. it was 11 pm now. "you should stay until tomorrow, dear."

you feel a comforting hand on your back, it was mrs. lee. it was only her staying with you two right now since grandma had already retired back to her room.

"tomorrow? oh, i- uh... i don't want to intrude." you stutter and look down, unsure how to accept her offer. but as much as you wanted to turn her down, you knew deep down you don't really have a choice in the matter.

another strike of thunder confirms your pitiful situation.

"i know what you're thinking, you can take minho's room." her words take you aback, that really wasn't what you were thinking. but she wasn't serious, was she?

at the mention of his name and apparent lending of his own bed, he whips his head towards his mother. he points to himself silently and gawks in disbelief.

you try to stifle a laugh at his ridiculous face. it wasn't often that you see minho all flustered.

realizing that mrs. lee might actually kick minho out of his room if you don't say anything, you decide to spare him. "that's okay, i'll take the couch."

"are you sure? the couch isn't the most comfortable..."

you reassure her that the couch is fine and not to worry. mrs. lee takes this as a confirmation that you'll stay for the night. she beams and grabs her son's shoulder,

"minho, do you have clothes that you can lend to y/n?" she catches you about to protest at the unnecessary offer, "don't worry about that, you're going to end up uncomfortable if you sleep in your clothes right now."

she leaves not long after with a quick good night to you both, also not leaving any room for any counter arguments. minho nods after registering what she said, hesitantly gesturing you to follow him towards the room at the end of the corridor.

he was quiet these past few hours, you observed. the annoying minho that you have gotten used to was no where to be found. putting yourself in his shoes, you understood. having a person that you dislike come into your home and spend the night would irk you as well.

the unexpected warm lighting and a subtle citrus scent with notes of jasmine and sandalwood welcomed you upon entering. it instantly brings comfort. not really expecting anything coming into his room, it was truly a pleasant surprise.

you stand awkwardly in the middle of his room, not wanting to touch or disrupt any of his space or belongings. he heads straight to his closet near his bed.

"it's alright, uh..."

minho ignores your attempt to refuse and starts digging deep for clothes that he could lend.

okay, nevermind.

you quietly glance at the homey decor that adorns the wall of his bedroom. multiple pictures of what you assume to be his friends were strewn all across the room. some of them seemed to be taken when he was in high school and some more recent. there were doing various funny and serious poses, minho seems to be really well liked.

"alright,"

he starts handing you a pair of black jogging pants and a plain white t-shirt. you reluctantly take the pile of clothes from him, your fingers momentarily brushing. you were certain you could hear your pulse thump in your ears. it confuses you greatly.

"this is the smallest one i have, sorry."

he coughs and rubs his neck, "the bathroom is over there, if you wanna change."

awkwardly shuffling on the way to the bathroom, a sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you lock the door behind. why were you so affected by a simple touch of his fingers? this was minho. you quickly shove the odd feeling down.

you hold the white shirt up to your torso, it was definitely too big. the hem of the shirt reaching your thighs and sleeves reaching your elbows as well.

peeling out of your clothes, and hold up minho's large shirt to finally wear. as you put it on, you could faintly smell the cleanness of detergent and a faint musky patchouli scent. your cheeks burn with the realization that you were really going to spend the night here.

when you return to the empty main corridor, the leather couch was already set up with a cozy looking blanket and multiple plush pillows. you struggle to hide a smile.

tossing and turning, you struggle to find a comfortable position on the couch. the blanket proving to be too hot right now, you push it off. you check your phone out of boredom and the led screen lights up.

1:19 am. it was in the middle of the night and the rain continues to pour outside. the occasional rumble of thunder once again evoking anxiety in you. sighing, you don't think you will be getting any sleep tonight. it's just you and your thoughts for now.

thinking back to this afternoon, the whole situation seems so absurd and surreal. who would've thought that you and minho would pretend being friends even if it was just for one night. it was a strange chance of circumstance.

the door from the end of hallway opens, a scruffy and disheveled minho rubs his eyes to get rid of his sleepiness. you sit up in curiosity to observe his sleepy state. he pads over the wooden floors to the kitchen looking for water, not sparing you a second glance.

when he was out of sight, you start thinking of ways to distract yourself, wanting to already succumb to slumber.

“oh, it’s you.” he says after coming back, finally noticing your slumped figure. "didn't sleep yet?" minho ruffles his hair haphazardly, trying to smoothen it down. you shake your head,

"insomnia. it's the thunder."

"ah."

"the couch is making your neck hurt isn't it?"

"yeah, that too."

he opens his mouth to hopefully offer another solution, but shuts it immediately. he wasn't sure if it would make you comfortable so he just stands there quietly.

"i'll go get you more pillows." he places his cup down on the coffee table before going to his room. minho stops in his tracks when he feels your fingers tug on his shirt. another strike of thunder flashes outside making you flinch.

"stay." you catch yourself saying before even realizing. it's selfish to ask but you don't think you could stand the thunder alone. watching him stare into your eyes, as if looking for an explanation- you offer him no words.

minho takes a seat at the end of the couch silently joining you, sipping at his mug. to fill the awkward silence, you clear your throat and fiddle with the ends of the cotton blanket.

you start thinking of ways to justify your selfish request of making him stay.

"i finished that damn paperwork you dumped on me. dick move by the way." you chortled to try to lighten the mood. he seems to notice your attempts to distract yourself and indulge your sudden desire to chat.

he folds his hands on his stomach, grinning. his bunny like teeth poking out. you always thought it was endearing. "it's fun seeing you all grumpy."

"sadist." you simper, the anger you felt from a yesterday dwindling at the surprisingly pleasant banter.

quietness takes over again. he stares into the celling, pondering. "i didn't know you were close with my grandmother." he says after a while. he avoids your gaze and places his mug back on the table.

"neither did i. it wasn't deliberate," you reply. he turns to you, curious about the story. so you explain to him how you met, for how long and that you didn't even recognize him despite seeing the photos.

he chuckles, "i bet it was this pose, wasn't it?" minho imitates the very same pose that he did in the photo, eliciting another laugh from you. it was exactly the same.

minho shuffles a little bit closer to you, now propping his arm on the back of the couch. you straighten up, now being hyperaware of his presence and proximity. he looks really different without his glasses.

a furry tail suddenly brushes against your exposed leg. you lean forward to check what had just rubbed past you, it was one of the cats. it meows for attention, pawing at the base of the couch.

"your cats are really cute." you watch him pick the orange haired feline and place it on his lap. one by one, two of the other cats that you've seen this afternoon start padding over to where you and minho were seated, jumping on the couch.

"that's dori," he points to the gray furred kitty. "doongie," an orange cat with a predominately white underbelly, "and soonie." the last one who's also orange but more so than the other. minho raises soonie's paw, waving it at you. cute.

"this one looks like you."

you scratch soonie's chin, the low purring getting louder the longer you do it. minho stares longingly at your eyes with an unreadable expression at the comment. you're not paying any attention to him.

after a while, the cats start to get tired of the two of you. they walk of to the end of the couch, now ignoring you and minho. you fold your arms and relaxing into the back of the couch, falling into a deep and comfortable silence that would be sorely missed.

"why do you hate me?" you say abruptly. the curiosity finally won, anxiety gnawing at your every fiber of your being. it was finally starting to be peaceful between you two and actually talking like normal people, your sudden comment might've affected it's chances of becoming true.

his head whips towards your direction in what you assume to be disbelief, furrowing his eyebrows. "since when did i hate you?"

you struggle to not scoff at his blatant charade, "minho, you have it out for me." this was strange and ridiculous. was he really being serious? how could he not be aware of the months of months of his incessant attitude towards you, and only you.

you remind yourself to be calm, to be civil. but he continues to feign ignorance. it was starting to get difficult.

"you don't treat me like the others, you constantly make my life harder by teasing me, and you dump your own paperwork on me. only me. the only time you talked to me normally was just a few minutes ago." your voice rising with exasperation.

"what did i do?" voice ultimately faltering, tired.

"i-..." minho refuses to meet your eyes, offering no solace.

instantly feeling vulnerable by your little outburst and by the lack of response on his end, you hug and bury the plush pillow for comfort. you wanted to go home. you wanted to go home and pretend this conversation did not happen. confrontation wasn't your strong suit.

after a long while of silence, he at last utters a low, "i'm so sorry."

"that was very, very stupid of me." minho's eyes are now trained on the hardwood floor, unable to even glance at you.

"what? the paperwork?" you scoff, "no, not just that. all of it."

you furrow your brows at him, "i just find you really really cute when you're mad." he continues. you stare at him, incredulousness and anger painting your features. before you could give him a piece of your mind, he speaks.

"and i realized i didn't know how to actually approach you normally without the teasing." he purses his lips, the cup on the table long forgotten. minho is staring up the celling now, still refusing to look to your direction.

"would you also believe me if i said i was jealous?"

you don't know what to say in return, heavily processing what he just said. what was happening? your mouth runs dry, confusion knocking the wind out of you.

"of your friend." he says, emphasizing the last part. you try to rack your brain of who he was referring to.

"jeongin?" you tilt your head. he says nothing, confirming the assumption. "i overheard him talking to his friends, bragging about how he was gonna take you out to this restaurant that he wants to drag you to." you couldn't possibly think of a reason why he would be jealous, you and jeongin are just friends. and why was he jealous in the first place?

"why are you so worked up about it? he's just a friend, minho."

"i'm not even sure myself," minho shakes his head in exasperation and turns to you. "but i like you, y/n."

standing there, paralyzed at his unexpected confession. minho likes you? he was giving you crap all year round, and yet he likes you? you shoot him a perplexed look, "wait, what?"

"let me get this straight," you hug your legs, trying to decipher what he was saying. "so your plan was to annoy the hell out of me, dump your paperwork seeing that you don't want me hanging out with jeongin because...you like me?"

"well, now it sounds stupid when you put it like that." he huffs, crossing his arms and pouting cutely.

deafening silence falls between you two, unable to say anything meaningful without stuttering and fumbling through your words. you just sat there, not really saying anything and staring at the floor. realizing that you probably don't feel the same, he sighs. its about time he went back to bed too.

"it's late. you should probably get some-"

before you knew it you felt your pulse roaring in your ears, grabbing his wrist and stopping him from standing up. you were going to regret it if you let him go.

"i like you too."

a magnetic pull causes you both to inch closer together, wordlessly gazing into each others eyes. you make the first move to lean into him, slowly placing an experimental peck on the side of his lips. you unsurely place your hands on his chest, "is this okay?"

his eyes flickering down to your lips and then back to your eyes. he licks his lips, still staring intensely- lovingly at you. he softly grins, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears and returns the kiss on your lips.

eyelids fluttering shut, you feel him press against you with much enthusiasm, deepening the kiss. you cup his cheeks as a reply, roughly pulling him towards you.

you already forgot about the rain outside.

he hoists you up his lap, a hand on your waist as he trails desperate kisses on your neck. minho pays his attention back to your lips, sloppy and open mouthed, saliva stringing from your mouths. urgency and eagerness was reflected in the way you both tangle your arms around each other, touching and caressing every part that you could reach.

all of the unresolved tension was slowly slipping away, replaced by desire.

a sudden meow breaks the two of you out of your trance. the green eyes of soonie stares up at the two of you, sitting quietly and their tail swishing side to side.

you loosen your arms around his neck, you two bursting out in laughter at the interruption.

"do you want to maybe take this to my room?" minho asks, placing a thumb on your lips. you didn't need to think twice.

your head hit his plush pillow, the cold and crisp linen feeling heavenly against your hot and flushed skin. shuffling up to the headboard, you watch minho with hazy eyes as he inches towards your form and props his knee on the edge of the bed.

he smirks as he sinks down on the mattress, hovering over your feverish body. minho sneaks a hand behind your back, grabbing you by the hips and flipping you over so effortlessly to the top as if you weighed nothing.

"now, where were we?" he murmurs into the column of your neck, his hot breath sending tingling and electrifying shivers down your spine. you respond by trailing your hands all over his clothed chest, wanting to get the offending article of clothing off.

he chuckles and grabs your wrists, halting you from doing so. minho kisses the inside of your wrist, a teasing smile dawns on his face. you look at him with desperate, pleading eyes, wanting to have him already.

minho adjusts his tight hold on you, biting his plush lips in anticipation. with you now towering over his figure, you lean down to capture the lips that you had been fantasizing about all evening and bury your hands into his hair. the kiss was wet and messy, your tongues sloppily and desperately swallowing each other's moans. a trail of saliva strings from both of your lips.

it was starting to get too hot for your liking. you cease your movements for a second to remove minho’s borrowed shirt from your body. minho’s eyes shamelessly rake over your chest, his finger leisurely trailing the middle of your breasts. you let out a low chuckle, finally unclasping the hook of your bra. you release a breathy shudder upon feeling something hard poking you from where you sat. grabbing both of his wrists, you eagerly put them up to your tits, you could feel your sensitive nipples harden because of his cold touch. minho starts pinching at the sensitive buds, prolonging his eye contact with you, clearly enjoying your erratic squirming.

you suck in a sharp breath and almost topple over him in pleasure as he takes a nipple into his mouth, hot, warm, and wet. it was overwhelming, having no one touch you like this before. he continues to lap at your hardening bud. minho groans, closing his eyes and further burying his head in your chest. your tits were covered in spit, glistening under the subtle light of his night lamp.

minho, while smothering himself in your chest, takes a moment to hook his arm over you. his skillful hands trail over to the waistband of your jogging pants and pulls it down. you oblige, leaning closer to him and lifting your hips so he wouldn’t have to leave your tits. you jump in surprise once you feel a light teasing smack on your now semi exposed ass, only covered by thin panties. it elicits a small moan from you, pulling his head closer. you lightly pet his head and thread your hands in his hair affectionately as he continues his sucking, feeling a coiling sensation from your core.

but before you could cum, he detaches from your breasts, leaving his lips glistening with his own spit and his breath raggedy. a sly grin that you have come to love and hate graces his face upon seeing you whimper. the lack of stimulation makes you deflate, heaving frustratedly at his relentless teasing.

the familiar throbbing heat from your pussy suddenly gives you an idea. his hungry gaze watches you in curiosity. the bulge you were currently sitting on now immediately taking all of your attention. you do an experimental hump on it, hoping to relieve the aching heat from your cunt. minho's hands fly to your hips, groaning at the sensation.

"all this time, you made me think that you hated me-" you moan out, the fabric of his pants providing just the right amount of resistance. "when really you liked me?"

he stifles his moans by biting his bottom lip, his pants surely soaked through now.

"i did say i liked seeing you mad." minho manages to grunt out, licking his lips. you almost reel in disbelief but you keep your composure.

"you're confusing." another thrust.

"and i'm still mad at you." you huff out. hips now wildly humping against every ridge and curve of his cock. the sight of him makes you delirious, even more so that you’re humping against him.

"i-i'll make it up to you," he murmurs lowly, hissing the more times you buck up against him. "fu-fuck..."

despite the way that you were using him, it does nothing to quell the horniness you were feeling, in fact, it even spurs you on further. the wet patch from your panties soak and slowly transfer on to the front of his pants, your own wetness spreading messily every time you grind on his delicious dick, the ridges providing the needed friction that you've been so desperately craving. minho watches you, your tits bouncing up and down- he feels like drooling. "i love it when you use me." he finally breathes out, hands still on your hips, his nails making crescents on your skin. and finally, you cum, his words sending you over the edge.

it tremors through your body, white hot cum leaks out from your panties and you can’t seem to hold yourself up any longer, collapsing on his broad chest. you clench your eyes shut in shyness, suddenly embarrassed from using minho so blatantly. he coos and pats your head in comfort, almost like how he pets his cats.

planning to make it up to him and eat his words, you sit up and shuffle down his hips. you admire the wet patch that stains his front, mouth watering. this surprises him, watching you with tantalizing eyes. you make a move to grab at his waistband, pulling it down slowly. he hisses out in pleasure as the waistband runs over his still clothed dick. minho’s boxers were thoroughly wet, you could see a dark patch on the front where you sat on him and where precum leaked out. you lift up a hand to experimentally give his bulge a tight little squeeze, him letting out a little shudder response.

it hardens even more under your touch- so you decide to tease him to test the waters even further, running your fingers over and over his tent causing him to hiss out, sending you a warning look. taking this as a sign, you lift the waistband of his boxers and stare at his eyes while doing so. it springs up immediately after freeing it from its confines. his long and fat cock stands tall, the tip a deep red, and the veins prominently running along the sides. the sight makes your mouth water in anticipation. you place a thumb on his cockhead, running slow circles on his slit causing it to drool heavily on your hand.

his cat like mouth parts in ecstasy once you start teasing the underside of his length with your hand and licking the oozing liquid up. minho’s hips start thrusting at the sensation, forcing you to hold him down. it was admittedly hard to do so, his thick thighs almost the size of your head but you still managed to restrain him from rutting wildly. the groan that leaves his lips sound is absolutely nothing short of sinful when you finally put your mouth on him. every desperate huff from him leaves you light headed, wishing you could record and replay it over and over again. when couldn’t fit all of him, you resorted to pumping the remaining of the shaft were you couldn’t reach. you egg him on even further by running a hand over his abs, seeing how his thighs and abdomen tense up.

you look up through your lashes to watch minho unravel. his eyes were screwed shut, focusing on the stimulation. while it bobs messily in your mouth, you try to pay special attention to his hot and heavy balls, rubbing it back and forth in the palm of your hand, hoping to get him to cum. minho closes his eyes shut again and tenses his thighs, finally cumming. his hands travel down to grasp at his length, taking it over yours, spurting his essence everywhere. minho finishes with a loud relieved groan, slapping his dick lazily against your cheek which you greedily lapped at.

“that might be the best head i’ve ever had, bunny.” he bites his lips, his voice light and airy. you quickly sit up from your position and gawked at him, suddenly feeling bashful at his apparent pet name for you.

minho gives you a mischievous cat like grin in return, feeling absolutely delighted at your expression. he begins to lightly graze your leg, leaving tentative touches and gentle pecks along the stretch of your lower limb. lifting your right leg up, you stop minho from inching any closer towards you by putting your foot on his chest.

"y/n..."

you pretend to think for a moment, stretching this out for as long as possible. he would just have to wait since he had yet to make up for being so mean to you. a little fun also wouldn’t hurt, right? no, you were quite wrong.

minho again grabs your ankle albeit more roughly this time and continues to place chaste kisses with more passion this time, clearly adamant about giving your legs and thighs hickeys. at long last, minho slides the wet and abused fabric off you, the panty is thoroughly soaked and it’s material sticking and clinging to your core.

he hooks ur leg over his shoulder, urging to part your legs apart and spreading them obscenely open. staring intensely into your eyes, minho starts teasing your core with feather light touches. “you like this?” he says his mischievous grin, continuing his ministrations. you offer him no response as he traces figures and shapes on your wet pussy that has you seeing stars. his fingers now erratically sliding up and down your folds. you almost sob at his nonchalant teasing, eyes clenching shut and begging him to put something in.

something about observing his veiny hand treading lightly just the outside of your lower lips leads you to tuck your face into your hands, the sight was like straight out of porn. “no, no. hands up bunny.” minho takes a hold of your wrists, putting them effortlessly above your head.

“you have to look.”

his free hand drags along your legs to pull them apart and starts lowering his chiseled face down to your core. his nose just close enough to feel the small exhaling puffs of hot air on your pussy, causing it to twitch in suspense. the brunette sneaks a peak at your trembling figure before diving right in, the first contact of his tongue on your cunt was searing hot, instantly making jolt out in shock and cry out. minho takes this as a sign to hold down your hips, pressing, flattening, and letting his tongue rampant against you all while avoiding your clit. he hums at the taste, huffing and delving further into your pussy, eating you out with such intensity, placing open mouthed sloppy kisses. he spits to make your pussy wetter so he could languidly and erratically make out with your cunt.

you throw your head back into the heaps of pillows behind you as he starts to pay attention to your clit, softly biting the bundle of nerves. minho then moves to swipe his index up at the large amount of cum and spit trickling from your core, using it as lube for his fingers. he gently prods his index in your entrance all while still licking you up. his long fingers, deliciously stretching your hole, deeper than all those nights you've tried to do so yourself. the bliss you were feeling was overwhelming. minho croaks out a little ‘hah, hah, hah…” every time he would come up for breath, completely drunk off your musky and intoxicating scent. you also don’t miss how he subtly humps the bed sheets he was lying under either. you began to arch your back upon hearing his desperate sounds, your arousal spurting on his face.

minho looks like a cat who got the cream, his pupils blown wide open and wetness trickling down the side of his mouth. he lets go of your hands after you were finished, the numb arm falling on your forehead as you catch your breath. he stands up to re-adjust your form on the bed, pulling you closer to his pelvis.

minho stares at your eyes, asking silently for permission. you look up at him with a toothy- fucked out grin.

the feelings that you couldn't place earlier was now clear, you wanted him.

minho reaches a hand over your face, caressing your flushed cheeks. he wordlessly leans to tenderly place a kiss onto your forehead and on your lips. you reciprocate lovingly, capturing his lips once again. minho without warning, pushes his long and girthy dick into you, the abrupt intrusion making you sob out. the bulbous head of his cock rubs deliciously against your gummy walls, you swore you could feel it in your throat.

“there we go. there we go…”

minho sets a rough pace, his hips thrusting against your pelvic bone. “ah-ah!”

toned and skillful arms cage you in, forcing you to look deep into his dark pools. "you better keep quiet, or else the whole house will hear you." that for some reason makes your cunt even wetter, weeping more than you thought was possible. the sole idea of getting caught with their precious son doing such lewd acts, it seems sacrilegious and absolutely sinful.

he once again reaches for your hardened nipple, tweaking and pinching the bud between his thumb and index. the bed was now creaking with how fast minho was going, you silently prayed that no one in the house suspects anything. the thought mortifies you.

minho leans against your figure and nuzzles up on your chest, looking up at you with an oh so innocent grin while he continues to pound your cunt. his movements start to stutter once he feels your walls clench around him. your mind begins to feel like mush but you still try to make an effort to suppress your groans of pleasure. a strangled sound between a moan and a whine leaves your throat once he hits that one particular spot in you.

“keep quiet, little kitty.”

you start squirming uncontrollably at the huskiness of his voice, not having experienced an intense orgasm like this before. “cum, you can do it.” your rutting hips stop to convulse for a moment, feeling your orgasm rip through the ends of your nerves. leaning back on his chest, you struggle to catch your breath, heaving from the aftermath of your orgasm.

fogginess still clouding your vision, you caught a small glimpse of minho to notice that he still hadn’t pulled out, his hands circling your waist gently. you unintentionally clench on his cock, yep he was still hard, very hard. minho sets his eyes on you, and gives you that look. oh no, you knew that look. the same one that he uses around the office to persuade a higher up to heed to his request. you nibble on your lower lip in excitement.

“one more, you can do one more right?” he coos, lifting your legs and his hips starting his monstrous once pace again. you double over in overstimulation, crying out in pleasure. his breath hitches after a particularly hard thrust, choosing to muffle his own cries by shoving his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your exhilarating scent. you respond by coyly playing with the hair on his nape, hoping that it would ground you to reality.

minho then sneaks a hand from below you and hugs your figure, pulling you impossibly closer. he swallows your moans, kissing you feverishly and running his hands wildly all throughout. it was so urgent, so intense, like he’s finding a way to meld your bodies together, his erratic and messy thrusts reflecting that.

your fingers clutch his thick bed sheets, euphoria piercing your body every time he drives another rough thrust into you. the lewd noises coming from the two of you echos and bounces off the walls, the conversation tomorrow morning was going to be so humiliating and awkward at the dining table.

you can’t hold it in any longer, and by the looks of it, neither can he. minho cums with a loud groan, spurting inside you. "goooood kitty." minho rasps out. you gape at the warmness, causing you to finish as well. minho reaches his hand downwards to spread your combined release, spreading it messily. it drips out of you obscenely as he pulls out.

you were positively flushed. he was too, sweat still glistening on the wide expanse of his chest and forehead. minho brushes your hair back affectionately before plopping down tiredly next to you. you turn to him, wanting to admire his fucked out features but he looks occupied and staring into space.

“what's the matter?”

"i really am sorry about the misunderstanding. i feel terrible that i made you feel like that. and i do really like you. wasn't lying about that." minho sighs out, closing his eyes for a moment and then faces you. “i want to start over, properly this time.”

"apology accepted. and yeah of course." you say, quite happy with how this whole misunderstanding turned out. "i really like you too." he kisses the top of your head, making you wrap an arm around him to cuddle.

"now you'll just have to figure out how to reject the girl beside your desk. she wants to ask you out."

"maybe we can start by just making out in front of her."

#stray kids smut #skz smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz scenarios #stray kids hard thoughts #lee know #lee know x reader #lee know smut #lee minho x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #skz fluff #skz angst

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revasserium · 8 months

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Can i request OPLA zoro where he doesn't get along with reader but calls her my girl in front of a baratie waiter who was flirting with her.

my girl

zoro; 2,438 words; fluff, kinda enemies to lovers, fem!reader, straw hat!reader, lots of banter, slow...burn?

summary: just cause you don't see eye to eye doesn't mean zoro's down to watch you get hit on while he's in the same bar, either.

a/n: again. i've got no excuse. pls continue to send more requests feed my opla!zoro obsession u__u

it is perhaps what therapists and psychiatrists would call an incompatibility of character. or maybe something about you and him that simply acted like two jigsaw pieces from completely different puzzles. or maybe luffy had just jinxed it when he’d said the first time that he sensed some “tension amongst the crew”, but it’s no secret that you and zoro don’t exact see eye to eye.

in fact, sanji thinks, it might only be a matter of time before you each try to take the other’s eyes out permanently.

“you’re really not worried?” he asked luffy as they’d watched zoro and you bicker all the way down the wobbling boardwalk leading up to the baratie, you sniping at zoro for getting in your way and zoro biting back something equally acerbic and childish about you being too clumsy to be a good pirate.

“huh? why would i be worried? they get along just fine!” luffy had laughed, eyes bright and round as he’d readjusted his hat and bounded off towards the entrance, whooping about being hungry enough to take down an entire sea cow.

“wh —”

“bit rich, since you and zoro are always at each other’s throats, no?”

nami bumps sanji’s arm as she strolls by him with a stack of empty crates. sanji squawks, readjusting his own bags before jogging after her.

“c’mon, you know that’s different!”

nami smirks but doesn’t grace that with an answer, instead, she lets her eyes flicker back to where you and zoro are still snarking at each other even as the bewildered looking fishman at the front leads you all around back to the kitchen entrance.

“— wouldn’t have been in that situation if you’d just —”

“yeah? and if i’d just stayed put like you said, the entire going merry would’ve gone up in smoke cause last i checked, wood is very flammable!”

“the merry’s not that fragile.”

“you wanna bet?”

“yeah, maybe i do —”

“what’s goin’ on here? didn’t i tell you lot to get lost?” zeff’s gruff voice interrupts your bickering as the peg-legged chef looks from zoro to you and then the rest of the crew, “gotta new one, didya? don’t remember you from the last time these idiots were here.”

“she’s barely an upgrade from the clown head —”

you slam your heel into the toe of zoro’s boot and he hisses, nearly dropping his armful of crates.

“what he means is that i’m the brains of the operation —”

“we don’t need brains —”

“oh, so you’re admitting that you didn’t have any before i got here?”

zoro glares, dropping the crates as luffy pushes past you both to clap zeff on the shoulder and offer him a huge stack of berry.

“we came to pay you back for the meal last time! and to buy a new one! and… maybe some extra food stuff if you’ve got it.”

zeff opens his mouth to answer but it’s drowned out by the sound of your voice as you jab a finger into zoro’s chest.

“— just because you can’t hold more than one cohesive thought in your head at once doesn’t mean that —”

“— what’s that even supposed to mean? like you can think about two things at once?”

“enough! you two — outta the kitchen, now! i won’t have your lovesick teenage yappin’ distractin’ my line chefs!”

you both jump at zeff’s voice, and an unpleasant heat creeps into your cheeks as you realize that the entire kitchen had indeed gone very quiet, most of the white-clad workers staring at you and zoro.

“i need a drink,” zoro says, rolling his shoulders as he sidesteps you and pushes his way out of the kitchen.

“look, sir, i didn’t mean —” you take half a step forward but zeff jabs a finger at the doors still swinging in zoro’s wake.

“i said out!”

you glance between zeff and the rest of your crew for a split second before turning and scrambling from the kitchen, looking abashed.

“oh no, c’mon zeff, you didn’t need to yell at her like that —” sanji sighs as he tries to go after you, but nami nails him in the stomach with one of her arms.

“nope. this is something they need to work out on their own. and you’re on grocery shopping duty with me, remember?” she flashes him a smile even as he deflates slightly and turns back to the work of haggling rations out of the baratie’s storerooms.

you find zoro already posted up at the bar, even though the hour is still early enough that there’s only a few other patrons, mainly keeping to themselves. you fight the urge to march up to him and give him an earful about embarrassing you in front of sanji’s old master like that but zeff’s words about making a scene keeps your lips clamped shut.

instead, you seat yourself as far from zoro as humanly possible and wait for the bartender to sidle over. he flashes you a winning smile, making no attempt to conceal the way his eyes drag from your hair to your face and then down to your cleavage, where his gaze rests for a beat too long before he clears his throat.

“what can i get you, gorgeous? something sweet and bubbly, perhaps? or maybe something a bit more dark and… seductive? i can have a custom drink whipped up for you in a few if you’d like… on the house, of course.”

he shoots you a wink that has your eyebrows hiking up your forehead.

“laying it on thick, are we?”

the bartender shrugs, seemingly unbothered by your lack of enthusiasm.

“place like this doesn’t exactly breed subtlety.”

you make a noncommittal noise before sighing, “i’ll have a dirty martini, shaken not stirred, straight, with a twist, please.”

to his credit, the bartender doesn’t miss a single beat, “ah, a woman of taste, though i’ll admit that i prefer my martini’s naked instead of shaken, hm?”

he waggles his eyebrows and if it weren’t for the loud cough from down the bar drawing the bartender’s attention, you would’ve rolled your eyes.

at the opposite end of the bar, zoro taps his empty drink glass against the waxy hardwood, a vein ticking in his jaw. he’d listened to the entire exchange with a growing annoyance festering in the depths of his stomach. and here he was, hoping for a moment of quiet without the sound of your voice yammering in his ear. he shoots the bartender a glowering look as the man refills his drink and tries to make his way back down the bar to you.

zoro tosses the entire drink back in one and sets the empty glass down with a loud clack, clearing his throat as the bartender turns to stare at him. he holds the man’s gaze for a full three seconds before looking pointedly down at his glass and the bartender’s face visibly reddens.

“here you are, sir — the last three are on the house.”

the bartender lines up five identical drinks in front of zoro before marching away and zoro has to give it to the guy. he does make a good, stiff drink.

still, as he tries his hardest not to glance down towards where you’re sitting, sipping slowly at your martini, he can’t help overhearing the stilted stabs at conversation floating down the length of the empty bar. the bartender lavishes you with questions, asking about your travels, who you came with, where you’re from. you, for your part, never give him an answer more than three words long — travels were good, my crew, an autumn island.

zoro briefly wonders why you don’t tell the guy off like you so often did him. then, he briefly wonders if the fact that you’re always so easily set off by him means something. then, he not-so-briefly wonders why, if he’s always been so bothered by you, that he’s still thinking about you in the precious few hours he has to himself.

he clicks his tongue and downs another drink just as you finish your first.

“c’mon darlin’ — just a hint — what about the first letter? shall i try to guess?”

you sigh into your now empty glass as the bartender asks your name for the third time in a row, though to no avail. suddenly, a warm, solid presence appears next to you and the next thing you know, zoro’s arm is brushing up against yours as he leans over the bar to bear down at the bartender.

“right, now if you’re done trying t’pick up my girl, i think i’d like the check.”

the bartender blinks up at zoro, uncomprehending for a second before a blotchy redness seeps into his cheeks.

“y-your — you haven’t said a word to each other since either of you got here!”

you swallow passed a bewildered laugh as you glance up at zoro to find a challenge clear in his eyes. you slowly swivel back to the bartender with a light smile.

“ever heard of a lover’s quarrel?”

the bartender sputters as he stares between the pair of you for another long second before scurrying off to fetch the check. zoro chuckles under his breath, his earrings clinking softly in the dim light.

“damn — i really wanted another drink,” you say, staring at your empty glass.

wordlessly, zoro plops one of his in front of you. it’s the second to last.

you bring it up to your nose for a sniff before making a face.

“god that smells awful!”

“fine then, more for me.”

“i didn’t say i wouldn’t drink it!”

you bring the glass to your lips for a small sip. it’s tastier than you’d imagined but it still burns a line down your throat as you shiver.

“h-holy shit —” you cough, wiping at your mouth, “how many of these have you had?”

zoro shrugs, sipping on his own glass with a careless ease, “dunno. don’t really keep count.”

“ugh… this could knock out a war elephant…” you make another face before you take a second sip.

“figures you can’t hold your liquor, drinkin’ whatever girly shit you ordered.”

you round on him, “martinis are not girly!”

“tch. whatever.”

you settle into a huffy silence. zoro’s arm is still pressed against yours and neither of you makes to pull away. for a while, the only sounds in the bar are the soft clink of ice on glass and the light, liquid splashing of the ocean waves.

“why didn’t you tell him off?” zoro’s voice is quiet and when you turn to look at him, it’s to find him staring. you hold his gaze steady and don’t look away.

“why should i? he’s no one to me.”

“you don’t seem to have a problem yellin’ at me.”

you shrug, your eyes flickering back to the too-strong drink in your hand.

“i don’t tend to waste my breath on people i don’t really care about,” you say, your voice soft and careful and honest. zoro sucks in a slow breath, his mildly alcohol addled brain trying to process what you’d just said but his thoughts are interrupted by a peel of loud, raucous laughter echoing in from the dining room beyond.

“c’mon, sounds like dinner is served,” you say, grinning as you push off the bar, jerking your head towards the dining room door.

zoro lets out the breath before downing the rest of his drink and leaving the empty glass on the bar to follow you.

at dinner, you bicker less than usual and zoro is even more quiet than he normally is. though he wastes no time ordering another round for the table. no one really comments till zeff comes round at the end with the check.

“dinner’s already paid for but i was told that this is for the ‘lovebirds from the bar’,” he says, as he drops the drinks bill in front of zoro with a deadpan sort of look.

for a full ten seconds, no one moves. and then, usopp’s jaws hit the floor as sanji’s eyebrows jerk towards the ceiling. nami sits back with a satisfied smirk as luffy nods happily at the two of you before turning to grin at sanji.

“see? told you they get along fine!”

sanji has the decency to sputter just as usopp leans forward to point between you and zoro.

“wait… whaattt?”

you make to tug out your wallet but zoro slaps a stack of berry on top of the bill.

“give our compliments to the bartender,” he says with a slight smirk as zeff takes the money, glancing up at the two of you.

“yeah? what’d he make that’s got you so impressed?”

you purse your lips as you make a show of shrugging, waving a nonchalant hand through the air.

“oh, just a mean dirty martini.”

zeff lets out a loud bark of laughter as he takes the berry and clomps back towards the kitchens, shaking his head. zoro chuckles beside you as he stretches an arm over his head and lets it settle casually on the booth back behind you.

later, as everyone is making their way back towards the going merry, nami catches up to you on the docks, looping an arm through yours and pinning you with a meaningful look just as sanji sidles up to zoro and bumps him with a shoulder.

“so…” nami says, grinning as she tugs you forward a few steps.

“so.” sanji clears his throat, casting zoro a sidelong glance.

“wanna tell me what that was about?” nami asks.

“care to elaborate on that back there?” sanji questions.

you and zoro both take a deep, long breath. zoro glances up to see the way you toss a lock of hair over your shoulder, your bright laughter carrying back on the breeze. you allow yourself a smile, and you don’t have to turn to feel zoro’s eyes on you as both of you turn to your respective companions and say —

“i’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

opla!zoro reqs are (as always) open!!

#one piece #one piece live action #opla zoro #opla roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x you #x reader #opla #one piece netflix #opla zoro x reader #one piece live action x you #one piece live action x reader #roronoa zoro fluff #one piece fluff #opla fluff #roronoa zoro imagines #roronoa zoro scenarios #floofy floof floof

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after-witch · 8 months

Text

Seeker [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Seeker [Yandere Mahito x reader]

Synopsis: Mahito wants to play a game. Just a lil thing I had to write after Mahito's line about wanting to hunt down humans in the woods from the most recent JJK ep.

Word count: 2000ish

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of malnourishment, reader isn't having a good ol' time, mahito is his own warning

If you were prone to long bouts of deep thought in your current state of existence, you might ask yourself: How did it come to this? How did you go from an ordinary life of going to work, coming home, running errands, going to bed, going to work, coming home, running errands, going to bed, going to work--

To this?

To being held captive by some unknowable cursed creature with a patchwork face and a penchant for wild, impulsive violence?

To being pinched and held and kissed at his whims, to being kept inside a crude cage at night with a nest of blankets as your only comfort?

He had offered to let you sleep with him inside the hammock the first time you quietly asked if you could have a mattress, perhaps three weeks into your captivity, although your sense of time was no longer cohesive. But you thought about it (pressed so close to him, vulnerable, awkward, fumbling--) and shook your head, so he shrugged, grinning, and shut the door on your cage instead.)

You had only brought up the issue once more, pointing out that people slept on beds or mattresses, and if he was going to keep you then could you at least get something more comfortable than a few blankets on top of a metal cage bottom?

And he’d simply tilted his head and said, in a tone that might be called innocent if the phrase wouldn’t have immediately evaporated in his vicinity--

“Huh?” He looked genuinely perplexed, and you remember the twisting feeling it created in your stomach to see such a human-like expression on him. “But humans keep their pets in kennels, don’t they?” He had gestured towards the water bottle and bag of expired Family Size chips he’d thrown in your cage a few days prior, brows furrowed, voice petulant. “I even keep your food inside so you can eat when I’m gone! Most of them don’t do that!”

You shut up, then, and you certainly didn’t ask him to elaborate on his referral to you as his pet.

You don’t ask for elaboration on much nowadays, because you’ve decided it’s often better not to know. It’s better not to know how he chooses the victims that he transforms into monsters. It’s better not to know how conscious they are, when their mouths form pleas and screams. It’s better not to know if you’ll ever end up like them, writhing and deformed.

Except now, you are being hurled into a completely new situation that has every nerve in your body frayed and burning, and that need to know what the hell is happening grows stronger with every step.

He’s taken you out. Out of the drain and into the light--the brightness and softness of the outside world hurts as much as it provides a twisting sort of relief, competing furiously with the fear growing in your belly.

And, more specifically, he’s dragged you into the forest. Off the marked paths, pulling you here and there like a ragdoll while you trip and stumble to keep up with him, all the while he intermingles assurances of how fun this will be (“You’ll love it, I promise~!”) with giggles that make your stomach lurch.

Until finally he stops, in the middle of the woods. It’s both familiar and unfamiliar; the droning chirps of insects looking for mates, the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. Gnats buzz by your face but you’re too frightened to swat them away with your free hand, as Mahito has yet to release his grip on your wrist. He has yet to even turn around, instead looking around him--up and about, grinning, almost closing his eyes as if he’s forgotten that you’re there at all.

Finally, you can’t take it anymore. You have to know.

“Mahito?” Your voice cracks, dry from what little water you had today and the trek into the forest.

His eyes widen--like he’s just recalled your existence--and slowly, he turns his head towards you, a wide grin on his face.

“Ye-ee-es?”

You grit your teeth. You try not to sound frustrated or heaven--not that you think it exists, anymore--forbid, look frustrated, because that usually doesn’t end well.

“I was just…” You swallow, thick, and smile a little. “Wondering why we’re out here. Not--not that I’m complaining. It’s… really nice.”

He giggles. Which can be good or bad, and you’re not sure which of those two his current mood falls under yet.

And then he yanks your wrist, and pulls you close to him. You stumble against his chest, but he catches you, and keeps you still.

“We’re going to play a game.”

Oh. It was a bad giggle. At least for you.

“A… game?” You shouldn’t ask, you don’t want to know. But this isn’t the type of thing Mahito will let you close your eyes about, is it?

There’s an awful giddiness in his voice as he continues.

“Yes! I read about it in a book. Oh!” He grins. “And I’ve seen kids playing it at playgrounds. It’s called tag.” He pauses, and then continues, as if explaining something remarkably patiently to a child. “One person is the seeker, and they seek the other person until they find them and tag them! And then that person is the seeker.”

He’s going to chase you. He’s going to chase you. He’s going to--

You wonder if the feeling of your nerves trying to leave your body through your feet can show on your soul. Probably, because Mahito reaches up and squishes your lips together with his fingers.

“Don’t worry! I’ll be the seeker first, so you don’t have to worry about not catching me.” He stretches his neck to one side and smiles, giving a satisfied sigh. “I’m so generous, right?”

“Mahito,” you say, and you say his name again because he likes it when you do, “Mahito, I’m… not good at games like this. Wouldn’t you rather just have a picnic today? Or we could…” You look around, fumbling for something that doesn’t involve you running through the woods being chased by a monster.

He pouts. Honest-to-goodness pouts, puffing up his cheek, looking hurt and frustrated.

And then he whirls you around and presses himself up against your back, and the silly pout has drained from his body and his voice as he whispers low in your ear, dark and tinged with something distinctly inhuman.

“I’ll give you 60 seconds. That’s enough time, isn’t it, for a human like you?” You can feel goosebumps dotting the back of your neck, and you jolt when one of his fingers traces them on your skin. “Let’s see… how about we play for 5 minutes? And if I catch you, I get to play a different game with you! One you haven’t been letting me play…”

Fear constricts your throat. You don’t ask what this ‘different’ game is because the thought of knowing might just make you vomit.

You already feel like you might, bile and fear sticky in your stomach. This is happening. It’s going to happen. You can’t stop it.

He blows a puff of air in your ear, and the dark thread of tension has dissolved as he gives you a playful shove. You can hear the grin back in his voice.

He claps once, twice, three times.

“And… ready… set… go!”

You propel yourself forward on shaky legs and malnourished muscles. How long has it been since you’ve run anywhere? Much less in the woods, wearing worn out shoes, with a curse who could do worse than kill you with a single touch just yards behind you.

“Oh!” You hear his voice from behind you, distinct but growing fainter. “I’ll start counting, okay?”

You don’t answer--you couldn’t even if you wanted to, chest heaving and breath panting from exertion already--but keep putting your feet to the ground, desperate to put as much distance between you and Mahito in 60 seconds as you can.

“One… two…”

Should you run in a straight line for much longer?

“Three… four…”

Maybe you should turn another way, and make it harder for him to reach you.

“Five… six…”

You might even be able to find somewhere to hide, right? The woods could have tree hollows or caves or something, anything, that could give you some cover. You could wait out the 5 minutes in hiding, rather than trying to run.

“Seven… eight… nine…”

Your brain makes your decision for you, and you veer off to the left, keeping your legs pumping as fast as you can. His voice is getting fainter with every second counted, which must mean you’re making the right choice.

“Ten.”

Your body jerks itself back just as Mahito appears in front of you, hands on his hips, a sly grin on his face.

“Found you!”

Your legs stumble back, a weak attempt to turn and run, but he grabs your wrists and keeps you from getting anywhere. It’s not fair. It’s not--

You shake your head and feel the anger coming despite your fear and heaving chest and his firm grip on your wrists.

“You… you said you’d give me sixty seconds! That was only ten!”

Mahito shakes his own head, soft hair falling over his shoulders. “Mm… I said I’d give you sixty seconds, and I am! You’ve got mmm…” He considers, tilting his head. “40 seconds left or so.”

What is he talking about? You furrow your eyebrows. “But you… you said you’d give me a 60 second head start.”

He blinks at you, and you hate how he can look so innocent, despite everything. You hate even more that you’re never entirely sure when he’s being genuinely naive or pretending. “Nuh-uh. I didn’t say I wouldn’t run in those 60 seconds, too, just that you had 60 seconds. You really ought to pay attention when someone’s explaining the rules of a game!”

He grins foolishly at you and all you can do is tug at your wrists, hoping he’ll either make a mistake and let go or get bored of holding you and let you try to run for it again. But he does neither, simply keeping a firm grip on you while you pull and pull, feet digging into the ground.

Useless. Stupid. Weak.

The tears come, then. Ugly and hot, making your face squish and your lips curl even as you continue to uselessly pull against his grip. You were never going to get away and he knew it and you knew it, too, but did he have to make it so cruel?

“Th-th…this isn’t fair,” you choke out, your tears thickening your voice.

Mahito does release one wrist, then, but only so he can wipe at your tears roughly with his thumb and lick it afterwards.

“D-D-Don’t be a spoilsport,” he coos. Then he sighs, happy and content, like a cat who has gotten all the cream and more. “60 seconds is up, and I’ve still got you so… I win!”

He pulls on your wrist then, bringing you close to his chest.

“That means you have to play what I want to play now, okay?”

You look into his mismatched eyes and you’re terrified of what you find.

He leans forward and rubs his nose against your cheek, humming happily.

“You’ll like this one, I think.” You can feel his smile against your cheek, the upward tug of his muscles. “Although I can’t make any promises!”

You don’t ask what game he wants to play now.

Sometimes, it’s better not to know.

#yandere mahito #mahito x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #afterwitch writes #I am perfectly normal for mahito

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utilitycaster · 3 months

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Do you think part of the D20 journalistic bias comes from D20 being edited? It gives the appearance of much more effortless play and lets them control the pacing in a way unedited play like CR simply can't do. They get to (potentially) hide a lot of stuff people would jump on as flaws while CR has no choice but to let it all play out. I greatly prefer CR's approach, despite it biting them in the ass a bit through no fault of their own.

Answering these both together to group cause and my opinions, and I do want to note this is specifically about journalism/press coverage, not their respective fandoms even though there's obviously some overlap.

I think there's a couple things, but I do want to note this was actually prompted by Daggerheart, not Critical Role. The response from several prominent voices in the Actual Play journalism community, whom I will not name here but whom I do not respect intellectually, really was, within hours of the open beta (which as far as I know they didn't have early access to - more on that later) "um it could be better, I don't like xyz and also it's sooooooo important to have criticism" and again, it is important to have criticism, but also you act like D20 has never had a mediocre moment and that Kollok is brilliant, so.

This...got away from me a bit. I'd say I'm sorry but actually I adore writing thousands of words about actual play and it will happen again but I'm putting the detailed answer below a cut. The short answer is I think a lot of Actual Play journalists actually sort of fell into their jobs through being vaguely involved in nerd spaces and aren't actually equipped to talk intelligently about TTRPGs and actual play as a medium that should, at its best, be a perfect fusion of narrative and mechanics. So instead they're distracted by flashy edits and bright lights and cool noises and some abstract concept of "novelty" and write only about that. Also Critical Role is the 700 lb gorilla in the AP space (though not, actually, the TTRPG space) and doesn't give them early access and that's meaaaaaan. Indeed, for all I think a lot of their coverage of D20 and Worlds Beyond Number is obsessively fawning, I also think it's extremely surface level, frequently factually wrong, and fails to get at what's truly excellent about those shows either.

I think, honestly, the biggest one is that I don't actually think a lot of Actual Play journalists watch series in full. I was looking for Polygon coverage of Fantasy High Junior Year and they have one glowing article but it's more about Fantasy High as setting and institution and D20 "changing the game" (also more on this later) to the point of outright contradicting the pull quotes they used from interviewing Brennan Lee Mulligan (also more on this later). So I started looking through their coverage and actually, quite a number of their write-ups are based on only one episode, or half a season. Clearly, they haven't read the full open beta (nor have I, but I think their complaints about the character build process belie a profound misunderstanding of what TTRPGs are, also more on this later). So editing is certainly part of it because it's really easy to see cool special effects and sound design within one episode and shit out a hacky article about it, whereas actually getting to the substance - character relationships, cohesive narrative, storytelling - requires work that I do not think they're doing. And on the one hand I do kind of get it, because yeah, if journalism is your livelihood then you perhaps do not have the time to watch 4 hours of D&D a week for 2-3 years if you're only going to get one article every six months out of it. But I don't think the answer is "focus intently on Microsoft Powerpoint-esque scene transition tricks while ignoring that nothing occurring at the table is actually fun to watch." For more on this, see this post.

The second, which is very relevant to Daggerheart but also is actually a big gap in D20 and WBN coverage in my opinion, and which I put in the tags, is that I actually don't think a lot of journalists have a solid understanding of TTRPGs nor of most genres. And I think Critical Role has a particularly good understanding of both these things, actually, if one skewed towards collaborative storytelling that is not rules-light. I think one really big example is that one person within the space is mad at the Daggerheart questions for the character archetypes because what if your character doesn't fit these. I think this is dumb as shit. I actually think that a common criticism of D&D - that you can't play ABSOLUTELY ANYTHING - is not valid, or rather, it's a valid opinion to hold but if you want to play a character who doesn't fit into the available archetypes perhaps you need to find another game. We all inherently understand that Blades in the Dark characters will be members of a criminal organization in a relatively low-magic setting, correct? That you can't show up to BitD and play a lawful good wizard prince because that's not the story being told? Or like, how in Honey Heist, you are a bear and you are trying to get honey, and you cannot play a human child investigating the old abandoned house at the edge of town, but there's a cool game called Kids on Bikes that will let you do that? Great! Why is this suddenly so hard to understand in the realm of heroic fantasy, that you will fit into specific archetypes? Why do people's brains, if they have them to begin with, vanish suddenly? I know I just did a big old rant that included this within it but genuinely I think a lot of people are deeply ignorant of heroic fantasy, or don't like it, and either is fine, but then they get mad at the heroic fantasy game for having heroic fantasy archetypes when the answer is "maybe this will never make you happy because it's not for you." (Frankly, I think this is also why they love D20, because it doesn't really do straight-up heroic fantasy, and that's fine, but they do keep acting like doing a Game of Thrones pastiche is equivalent to the invention of the wheel.) Like...I remember in the Midst Q&A that Xen said they tend to not like playing typical D&D classes, but their solution was to, you know, create Midst instead of sitting around going "actually, because D&D doesn't support cyberpunk narrative and the character archetypes within very well it is an utter failure." (I could go on forever about how actually TTRPGs are not a showcase for your already extant OCs to prance around but that's a totally separate post).

Mechanics and story are inherently intertwined, is what I'm trying to get at (sorry I'm really tired and have a lot to do but I'm passionate about this answer, it will be rambly, she says like 3 pages in) and I really don't think most actual play journalists get this. At all. And I do think that CR, and Daggerheart, and the people working for it, and especially Spenser Starke, Rowan Hall, Matt Mercer, and Travis Willingham, get this more than almost anyone else in the field. I also think Brennan Lee Mulligan and Aabria Iyengar get this, and the thing is, for all the praise showered upon them, much of which I think is deserved and most of what I think is undeserved is not because they are lacking but because the person writing about them is an idiot crediting them for things they (Brennan and Aabria) would never claim to have invented, their mechanical prowess is rarely if ever written about well. Fantasy High Junior Year's downtime mechanics actually fill in a famous gap in D&D, namely, downtime, and provide an excellent marriage of story and mechanics in my opinion, and I haven't really seen any discussion, because that would require watching the part of the TTRPG show where they play the TTRPG, and knowing the vague word on the street about D&D criticism that isn't just "*nods sagely* capitalism is the BBEG."

And finally: related a bit to the edit but Critical Role used to not be able to provide any early access to press, because it was literally a live show, and I suspect they never broke the habit, and I think that is for the best. As discussed a lot of D20 coverage actually feels like they watched the press screener and then never returned to the show. And I do not know the politics about them, but given that several of these publications (notably Polygon, but some others) have been shitting on Critical Role for several years, and just generally given the way CR's leadership vs. how D20's leadership respond to fandom pressure, I suspect Critical Role does not give these journalists a ton of early or increased, if any. Honestly, why should you, if you're getting interviewed in Variety? And I think the journalists are mad, because they think they're special and should get treated as such.

I do want to wrap something up, and I want to thank @captainofthetidesbreath for talking a little about this in game design/ttrpgs and giving me the idea, but in story, you should be challenging your audience, expanding their horizons, and being new and interesting. In the actual playing of TTRPGs, especially a new one, it is vital to be inclusive and easy to understand and patient and provide points of reference. I really feel like many Actual Play journalists and some TTRPG ones as well have this equation flipped and are looking for challenging concepts that most people will never be able to get a group to be willing to play, and bells and whistles in production, but leave story as an afterthought. Critical Role designs games to actually be played and to be used specifically to tell good stories, and puts story before production, and I think that undercuts those journalists' whole deal.

#answered #Anonymous #long post #cr tag #anyway though i am going to go lie down and try to take a nap bc the daylight savings got me but good.

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ganondoodle · 6 months

Text

seeing all the crazy stuff people build in totk kinda ... it feels like that is also a factor in why it turned out like this, like the insane things people did in botw and the (i keep saying devs when i actually mean the directors .. producers?) directors saw it and build totk just around letting people do it all 100 times more

to be clear, i think its impressive as hell what some people build (i just saw like .. a movie scene with a functioning mech gozilla and tanks made with totks building stuff ... what the fuck) and those things go pretty viral (understandibly so) but i also gotta question

as creative, free, and impressive as it is ... should that have been the focus in a zelda game? like .. is building mechas and tanks like that something that should be in a zelda game? can it be in there without inevitably sacrificing so much else? theres building games just for that? and if you want to make it zelda themed you can make it a spin off?

like i get it, people did crazy things in botw, they saw what people had fun with and dialed it up to a 1000 in totk, which in itself is not bad, even pretty good if you consider gamedevs and feeback and all that bc in general you should embrace what people had fun with in your game even if it wasnt the intent, given that nintendy listens to feedback (perhaps even a bit too much at times) and creative solutions was a central point to botw design philosophy but

i feel like totk kinda .. missed the balance?

if its really a reason why totk is build around enabling that in a purely player centered toy box kind of way without it actually mattering in the story .. or even themes ... was it worth it? not to sound like an oldschool boomer tm but in a franchise that iconic, lore and story focused, should you really abandon nigh all lore/story cohesion just to give the player a big box of toys in a world where i feel that doesnt ,, really belong? in a direct sequel in the same world with the same characters no less? that point is perhaps the biggest issue with it, bc again lots of games even if somwhat a sequel, had strange new tech or things in the world but in all of those cases it was some alternative universe, millenia after the other game, or on an entire different continent; while totk is supposedly just a few years after botw in the very same hyrule

(still doesnt explain the erasing of all shiekah things and replacing it with sonau- tho suddendly revealing the shiekah had actual rockets, wheels with suspension and grenade-launchers, might have been confusing too- you could have enabled the player creativity with shiekah too imo, and personally i would have found it way more fun ... lil guardian leg crawlies ..)

having thought about it feels rather logical why they did it in alot of ways, but also ... totk is build around it, while its also not build around it at all- its build around the PLAYER, not the world, not the story, not the theme, not the character, but YOU (especialyl those that dont realyl care about anythign story or lore stuff and just want to have fun with the gameplay loop, which isnt wrong, but i question whether thats the right kind if player to center in a zelda game .... also not saying all of those that build these crazy things are like that but- ... i hope you know what i mean)

(i know games are always build around the player, or should be, but .. do you get what i mean????? playing in a world that doesnt make sense anymore bc its all a box of toys yeeted into my face isnt fun to me, bc im here not only for gameplay fun but for the world .. theme .. characters, its something that has to be harmonical as a whole for me and totk just .. isnt)

i say it alot but i do really mean it, its very difficult to get my thoughts and feelings written out and to have them come across correctly

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #totk #ganondoodles rants #maybe i need to stop doing these rants #even about the little stuff #at this point it probably seems like im just finding another detail JUST to rant about it #its a struggle between being so .. SO frustrated with this game and trying to understand WHY it is like this #be assured tho my ranting days are pretty much over at this point #i have gone about pretty much all my points #tho i guess sometimes there will be more little things #...........or more interviews that get released....

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arc-misadventures · 7 months

Note

Emerald: Hey Cinder? MFK Me, Watts, and Jaune?

Cinder: MFK II

Emerald: H-Hey, Cinder?

Cinder: Yes, Emerald?

Emerald: MFK between, Jaune, Watts, and me~?

Cinder: Excuse me?

Jaune: Watts? The devil is that?

Cinder: I’d kill, Watts! Brutally, painfully, and slowly! I would absolutely remove his presence from this plain of existence, and the next! I would burn every fragmented memory of him so that their was nothing left of the fucker! I would DESTROY HIM!!!

Jaune: …

Emerald: …

Jaune: Y-You know what… N-Never mind!

Emerald: So… W-Who are you going to fuck, and marry then…?

Cinder: Well, for starters, you’re gonna fuck, Jaune…

Jaune: WHAT?!

Emerald: Excuse me?

Jaune: That’s not how the game is pla…! No, that’s not important; Why do you want me to sleep with, Emerald?!

Emerald: Yeah, why do you want me to do that?! A-Are you into that…?

Cinder: No, I’m not… But, well… Watching, Jaune turning you into his personal toy does sound oh so tantalizing~! Mmmm~! Perhaps we should try that later~!

Jaune: What?!

Emerald: Okay, what’s going on here, I’m so confused.

Jaune: Same here, what’s going on, Cindy?

Emerald: Cindy?!

Jaune: Uhhh…?!

Emerald: Since when did, Cinder have a nickname?!

Cinder: Since we became a couple.

Emerald: You’re dating?!

Jaune: Yes…

Emerald: The fuck did that happen?!

Jaune: Well… remember that time we were sent on that survival mission, j-just the two of us for team cohesion training?

Emerald: Yes?

Jaune: Well, Cinder was butting heads with me trying to be a leader, and all that.

Emerald: Yeah, she’s always been upset that you were chosen for team leader than her. But, that training mission sorted that out. It did sort it out?

Jaune: I-It did… just not in the way they intended…

Emerald: What happened?

Jaune: Well, you see… uhh… W-We kinda…

Cinder: Fucked.

Jaune: Yeah… That…

Emerald: WHAT?! The fuck happened?

Cinder: Oh, the usual: Me gloating on how great our team would be if I was in team leader. Jaune stating my arrogance would get us all killed if I was team leader. Then we both started arguing even more, and since none of you were their to stop us we really went at it. I was going to slap him for…? For something he said, It doesn’t matter anyway. He caught, my hand, and then we started wrestling, we fell down, and rolled across the dirt for a bit until, Jaune pinned to the floor, and the next thing I know I’m shoving my tongue down his throat, and learning how much of a bottom truly am.

Emerald: S-Seriously?

Jaune: P-Pretty much…

Emerald: So the whole reason you two started getting along together, and stopped fighting one another, is because you had sex?!

Jaune: Yes…?

Cinder: And, the disciplinary spankings. You mustn’t forget about the spankings~!

Emerald: Okay… Fine? You’re dating, I take it you’re ’married’ then?

Cinder: Oh absolutely. I genuinely hope to become, Cinder Fall Arc one day.

Jaune: Best not tell mom that, she could at least wait until after I ask you to marry me before demanding grandkids…

Cinder: Wait…?! You’re actually going to ask me to marry you?!

Jaune: Uhhh…?! S-S-So why do I have to fuck, Emerald?!

Cinder: Oh well, since I’ll be the bread earner, and you the house husband…

Jaune: What?! Why do I have to be the house husband?!

Cinder: Cause you can cook, clean, entertain guests, buy the necessary groceries for a meal. And, you know I can’t do that regardless of how hard we try, I mean to remember what happened the last time I tried to cook?

Emerald: They’re still repairing the kitchen…

Jaune: Shit… I am the house husband. But still, where does fucking, Emerald come into all of this?

Cinder: Oh she’ll be the sexy maid who helps you clean up around the house that you also bend over the table, and spank her because she did a ‘bad’ job cleaning everything.

Jaune: So she’s my mistress?

Cinder: Yes.

Emerald: So you want me to fuck your boyfriend to see if I’m good for him?

Cinder: Yes. I will be testing you on your ability to pleasure him, ability to take his massive member…

Emerald: How massive?

Cinder: Your endurance, and your…

Jaune: Endurance? Oh, I get it, you want help so you don’t tap out again.

Cinder: Can you blame me?! You can last twice as long as I can! And, I’m always walking with a limp every time we do it! I NEED HELP!

Jaune: Hence, Emerald?

Cinder: Hence, Emerald. So, you up for it, Emerald?

Emerald: …

Emerald: If I do this… D-Does that also mean I can sleep with you too…?

Cinder: That’s a definite probability.

Emerald: W-Will I get spankings from you if I misbehave…?

Cinder: Most likely.

Emerald: I’ll do it!

Cinder: Wonderful! Okay, let the test begin! Emerald, lets see how long you can last, and if you need help, or are about to tap out, we’ll have, Neo rake your place.

Jaune: Neo?! Neo doesn’t like me like that!

Cinder: Yes she does. She’s asked me on multiple occasions for a threesome with you.

Jaune: Bullsh-Aaaahhhh?!! Neo?!

Neo: 😈

Jaune: Neo?! Get your hands out of my pants?!

Neo: 😙🎵

Jaune: Get your hand off my dick!

Cinder: Neo, wait your turn.

Neo: 😠

Cinder: Emerald, what are you waiting for, get to it.

Emerald: …

Emerald: Okay… Let’s do this!

~~~

Emerald: …

Neo: …

Emerald: I can’t feel my legs…

Neo: 🤕

Emerald: Worth it~!

Neo: 🥰

#rwby #jaune arc #cinder fall #emerald sustrai #rwby neo #jaune x cinder #cinder x jaune #jaune x emerald #emerald x jaune #neo x jaune #jaune x neo #rwby knightfall #rwby topaz #rwby silentknight #arthur watts

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agustdiv1ne · 9 months

Note

congratulations on 3k!!! can i request beomgyu + the devil wears prada + smut please

NOW SHOWING...

pairing: choi beomgyu x fem!reader

genre: smսt

wc: 2.2k

details + warnings: mdni!!!, assistant!beomgyu, boss!mc (girlboss moment), mc is Mean, power imbalance, dom!mc, sub!gyu, oral (f receiving), hair pulling (m receiving), mc calls gyu: good boy, baby (once), gyu experiences slight subdrop but it's ok in the end !

note: thank uuuu ^^ enjoy!!

beomgyu knows next to nothing about fashion. in fact, he has no interest in the subject — that’s more his friend, yeonjun’s, speed — and he’s quite critical of the industry itself, so he’s genuinely unsure why he decided to accept the position of junior assistant to you, the devil herself.

he initially found it hard to believe that you, someone a mere few years older than him, had climbed all the way up to the top of the corporate ladder to become the editor-in-chief of a major fashion magazine. nepotism was his working suspicion, but he quickly realized that you were just that good at your job. fashion is what you live and breathe, it’s what runs through your veins, and while he doesn’t have a particularly keen eye for cohesive style, he can tell that your outfits are intentionally put together. he gets an eyeful of your wardrobe (and, if he’s being truthful, your ass) each day when you come into the office, throwing your designer coat and bag onto his desk without a single glance in his direction. recently, he’s found himself trying harder to curate his own sense of style, though he is not entirely sure why — perhaps he’s seeking approval from you, even if the words you direct towards him are consistently scathing in nature. he kind of likes it, though.

(what can he say, he’s a bit of a masochist.)

he’s well aware that your chronically stoic, unimpressed expression and sharp tongue help you keep everyone pinned under your perfectly manicured thumb. you may not have authority in age, but you sure as hell do in attitude. the whirlwind that the office becomes right before you enter is enough to indicate the sheer amount of influence you hold over his fellow coworkers — and evidently, him as well. it’s fear-based admiration, he thinks. fear, yes, but there is that tiny little part of him that experiences this overwhelming attraction to you as well.

on the bright side, even though his lack of fashion knowledge has gotten him in trouble more often than he’d like to admit, he’s eventually gotten in your good graces, albeit with quite an unorthodox method — one which also satisfies his odd fascination with you.

“tell him that i will not be accepting the girl he sent for that layout. i asked for clean, athletic, and smiley. i received dirty, tired, and drabby— no, i will not be changing my mind. if he does not fix his mistake by tomorrow morning, i will not be working with him in the future,” you sigh on the phone, voice monotone and unaffected despite him kneeling beneath your desk between your legs. this is his master plan: if beomgyu can’t get you to approve of him through his (to be fair, subpar) work as your junior assistant, he’ll just have to prove himself worthy in other ways. please you in other ways.

“so, what i’m hearing is that you want to whore yourself out to me in order to keep your job. what an…interesting proposition,” you had said to him when he’d first come to you with the idea, while he quaked like a leaf in the wind as he sat across from you. your stone-cold face allowed little of your internal state to slip, your eyes scanning over his pressed suit jacket and fashion-forward button up shirt (that he had, admittedly, stolen from yeonjun’s closet that morning). he didn’t expect you to savagely twist his words and throw them back in his face. though once you put it that way, he realized how naïve, how utterly idiotic, it all sounded. his ass was going to be fired and out your office door in t-minus three, two, one—

but then you beckoned him around the desk with a stiletto-shaped, red-painted fingernail, urged him down onto his knees, and spread your legs to reveal thin, lacy black panties beneath your tight, mouth-watering skirt. your expression still hadn’t changed, though your words caused his mouth to water.

“you have five minutes to prove your worth.”

several months have passed since then, and he’s officially demonstrated himself useful to you in ways other than what he was originally hired for. beomgyu finds this type of work far more gratifying than taking calls, cleaning out files, and organizing potential magazine spreads for you to review. he’s sure the his co-workers wonder why someone in such a lowly position spends a significant amount of time in your office with the door shut — but he couldn’t care less about their stares. maybe it’s the sick, perverted crush he’s formed on you that’s talking, but the thought of being used for his body isn’t appalling. rather, it actually really, really turns him on. whenever you call him into his office, he has to suppress a pathetic hard-on and ignore the twitching of his cock while he wonders if you need him for something practical or for…relief.

relief is what you require today, it seems. the slight furrow of your brow is enough to indicate that you’re stressed. being an editor-in-chief at your age is no joke. the job demands all of your time and energy, every waking hour of your day — and he’s grateful that you’ve given him the chance to be your reprieve from the pressure, even if it’s only for a small percentage of your time. sometimes, he wishes he could take up more of your day, bask in your attention for longer, sit beneath your desk for hours and allow you to use him like a stupid sex toy — but at the same time, he thinks this is enough for now.

his teeth dig into his bottom lip as your hands curl into the locks of hair at the crown of his head, pointed nails pressing into his scalp, nipping at the sensitive skin. the gel that slicks back his hair crunches beneath your unrelenting grip, his head stinging as you jerk it back. his eyes nearly roll back into his head at the sensation, a pitiful whine falling from his lips as he feels his trousers grow the slightest bit tighter. narrowed eyes meeting his, you press your mouth into a thin, straight line. the phone is no longer curled between your fingers, attention now fully on him. scrutinizing.

“twenty minutes,” is all you say, and he takes that as his cue to get to work. gently, he slips your skirt off of your legs and lays it out next to him, knowing how much you’d hate for it to wrinkle — it’s unfashionable, trashy. you scolded him the first time he attempted to bunch it up at your hips in haste. now, he knows better, has learned the vast majority of your quirks and preferences, as strict as they can be — he’s your good boy, even if you don’t give him the satisfaction of hearing it that often. he’ll do anything to hear that come from your painted lips.

thumbing your panties to the side reveals your glistening folds to his hungry eyes. he swipes his tongue over the seam of his lips before kissing up your right thigh, avoiding using his teeth because you don’t like marks. he hums as he tongues your folds, the muscle dipping down to your entrance and he nearly moans at the taste that hits his tongue. fuck, why do you always taste so good? it’s like an addiction at this point, the way he needs his tongue buried beneath your thighs every day to feel sated.

above him, you sigh out, stiff shoulders relaxing into your chair. he takes this as a positive sign. fingers curl into his hair as soon as his lips find your clit, enclosing around the tiny pearl, tongue laving across it with practiced motions. typically, you don’t moan, but today, you allow a soft, breathy curse to slip — oh, fuck, he’s done for. he’s on the verge of losing it and cumming in his pants right now. whining against your folds, his incoherent words vibrate against your clit. fingers curl into his hair and tug just hard enough to sting, but he doesn’t stop, insatiable as he drags his tongue from your clit back down to your entrance. his nose bumps against your clit now as he takes laps up the juices flowing from your hole, feeling your walls clench when he dares to dip the muscle into you. dizzy, dizzy is how he feels. dizzy with the warmth of your thighs muffling his ears, with the scent of your musky perfume that you seem to dab on your inner thighs, on your taste, on everything about you. you’re more reactive today, less mean, and he has a half a mind to wonder why.

“fuck, good boy,” you sigh, nails scratching at his sensitive scalp, making him moan. his trousers feel painfully tight, and he can’t help the hand that comes down to stroke over the hardness straining against the fabric. his eyes roll back into his head, eyelids fluttering shut as he switches his attention back to your clit, basking in the sensation of your legs tightening around his head, your hips grinding up into his lips. your breathy pants spur him on further, and when he finally looks back up at your face, he finds your lips bitten to hell, your eyes dark and hooded as you stare right back at him. the eye contact is enough for you to warn him of your impending high, your squirming growing worse until you freeze, legs quaking and hips jumping as he continues to ravage your folds, his hand squeezing himself harder. he could burst at any moment now, but he can’t do that. he has to hold it in, he has to prove that he can listen.

“get up, go handle your problem,” you’d usually say afterwards, leaving him to fend for himself in a bathroom stall, fist pumping his red, aching cock until he spills all over his fingers. today, however, it’s different. instead, he watches as you pick up your phone, dial some number, and say, “yes, tell everyone not to disturb me for another hour. if anyone does, they’ll be fired.”

oh. you’re not…making him leave. what’s going on? is this some sort of cruel way to fire him? he just did so well for you though, you can’t. no, no, no — you can’t get rid of him. he needs you. you need him. dewy tears line his eyes, the amber hue of his pupils shining beneath your warm office lights. as you set the phone back down and look back down at him, your brows pull down into a frown, though there’s little concern and more confusion.

“up,” you urge with another tug to his hair, and he swallows down the squeak that hitches in his throat, blinking back the tears. as he stands, head tucked into his chest, you question, “what is wrong with you?”

“i–i just,” he whimpers. “i—”

your eyes trail down to the tent in his pants, a nail coming up to trace along his covered erection. he visibly shivers. humming, you grope it softly, and he emits a tearful whine. “look at me.”

one, two seconds pass before he follows your command, red-rimmed eyes somehow making him prettier. while he’s a tall man, he’s shrunken into himself, hair mussed, lips still slick with your arousal — you think that he must be deep in some vulnerable headspace, so you decide to say, “you’re not in trouble. you did well.”

the words come out flat, monotone, but it’s enough to cause the panic swelling within his chest to recede. he nods, still unable to look you in the eye. he feels you stand in front of him, reaching for his chin so he has no choice but to face you. your expression remains neutral while you slide a finger back and forth against his jaw. soothing, in a way, lacking the typical sharp edge that your actions have. gently, you push him to the side, and he watches with bated breath as you sit atop your desk, legs dangling off the dark wood. with a single wave of your finger, you guide him between your legs, hands on his hips as you start to help him grind against your panty-covered core.

“do you want to be even better for me?” you ask, and he nods silently. “words, beomgyu.”

“y-yes, i do,” he whispers, watching as your tongue swipes over your lips. a ghost of a smile plays on your lips, barely there — but he notices. he notices everything about you, really, even in this hazy state of his.

“good,” you sigh, reaching down to stroke him once more. he sighs, eyes squeezing shut and vision blurring as they open again. he mouth falls open before he can stop it, a shuddering moan falling from his lips. tilting your head, a single quirk of your brow has his heart pounding harder.

“then go ahead and fuck me, baby.”

3k event masterlist | masterlist

#txt smut #beomgyu smut #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu hard hours #beomgyu hard thoughts #txt imagines #beomgyu imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu drabbles #txt drabbles #3k milestone celebration #💌 — gyu #agust.nsfw

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honkytonk-hangman · 1 year

Text

Checkmate

Jake Seresin x Aviator!Reader

Summary: You've been transferred to Dagger Squad, which is both good and bad. Good, because it meant the brass felt you belonged with the best. Bad, because the best already had a tight friendship group, and you were not yet apart of that. And you may never be, if you keep making fun of a certain someone's callsign.

Notes: This is basically me deciding that Jake is the biggest fan of 'Dallas' there ever was or ever has been. no I wont be taking suggestions. Thank you for coming to my TedTalk. This will probably have another part to it, but wanted to share as is for now.

Masterlist

You step into the squad ready room, glad to find it busy enough that your arrival goes more or less unnoticed. You weren’t normally the wallflower type, but you’d been deployed enough times by now that you’d developed a system for assimilating, one that mostly involved keeping your head down and performing so well that they would have no choice but to gladly welcome you. That way you never had to experience the mortification of being snubbed by an already established friend group who you would have no choice but to continue working with and seeing every single day.

Perhaps you were a little bit of a wallflower type, but this current transfer was going to be the greatest challenge to your usual ploy of sneakily befriending them all the while proving your worth. Not only was Dagger Squad made up of the top percent of Top Gun graduates in the past few years, but they had all been chosen for a classified mission just over a year ago, meaning that their pre-established friendship was probably going to be harder to sneak into than the Pope’s private snack pantry.

Thus, why were you moving at an even more subdued pace than usual. You were still in the observation stage.

To their credit, Dagger had been more genuinely welcoming than some of the group’s you’d subbed in for, but as nice as they all seemed, they still had a natural cohesion and flow, both in the sky and on the ground, which you were not a part of.

Yet, you remind yourself. You weren’t a part of it yet, but you would be. There was no alternative, because at last you had been assigned to a detachment permanently, which meant Dagger was it for you. You needed this to go smoothly, you needed to avoid any possibility of ostracization, embarrassment, or long-term derision. Just keep your head down and grow on them slowly, they’ll barely even realise you’re worming your way into their hearts until it’s already too late–

“Hey, Bishop!”

You manage to at least not look like a startled deer at the sudden call of your name. Across the room, you see most of the usual group gathered, Rooster and Phoenix taking up one couch, Coyote, Hangman and Payback spread over the other, with Fanboy lounging on the arm, balancing rather impressively. Paypack leans around Fanboy to check if he had your attention.

“Bishop,” he grins brightly when he sees you looking back at him, and you force yourself to calm down and relax as you approach, which is a little easier given his friendly aura.

“What’s up?” you ask, adjusting your go-bag on your shoulder, doing your best to sound casual but not uninterested.

“Your callsign, what’s it mean?” Payback doesn’t beat around the bush, and although you experience an amount of horror over the question, it isn't the first time you've been asked, or you’ve needed to explain. The chagrin you feel about your less-than-stellar identifier passes a little faster than it usually does though, as Payback waits for your answer with nothing but genuine curiosity and interest.

“Oh–”

“–‘Who shot J. R.?’, Right?” Hangman cuts in suddenly, and you think he sounds strangely excited. Your lips twitch, wanting desperately to grin, but you don’t want anybody to think you’re laughing at him, so you just quickly nod, and gesture that he’d got it.

“What?” Payback and Fanboy speak at the same time, turning to look at their friend in equal amounts of confusion, amusement and disbelief. Hangman stares back, either refusing to be embarrassed, or being physically incapable of feeling it in the first place.

Apparently, even in regards to Dallas.

“The greatest cliffhanger in T.V. history? Oh, come on!” Hangman throws his hands up, shaking his head. You can’t be sure of exactly how much of his incredulity is real, though the accusatory look that each person in the room receives in turn tells you that perhaps you should keep your own thoughts about the classic to yourself.

“Unbelievable! Nobody here is too good for Dallas!” Hangman huffs resentfully, pointing specifically at Coyote, who is the only one not bothering to hide his snickering.

You blink away from Hangman, leaving him to what looked like his surely impending conniption, at the hands of Dallas. Live by the oil tycoon, die by your mistress, your grandma would say.

You look at Payback, and shrug.

“The guy’s I trained with thought I sounded like the character, so…” you say with a shrug. Usually this was as far as the questions about your callsign would go, your explanation reasonable enough to those who asked.

“What? You don’t sound anything like him.” Hangman cuts in again, sounding as though the idea was personally offensive to him, aided by his disgusted expression.

Instead of taking offence, you startle and clap your hands, throwing them wildly out as though you were a character on a 90’s sitcom.

“Right?!” You exclaim, perhaps a little louder than you intend, and certainly louder than any of the squad expect of you either. You drop your Seinfeld-arms, and quietly clear your throat.

“I–I’m not even from Dallas.” you’d been wanting to say those words for the past eight years.

Hangman rolls his eyes, as if to say ‘clearly’, but he sits up slightly and gestures vaguely at you instead.

“Your last name is literally ‘Bishop’– Every ready room I’ve been in for the past fourteen years has had about sixteen copies of the official chess rulebook– It’s just lazy,” he waves the hand he’d flung your way, and shakes his head again with a derisive sniff, followed by a deep grunt.

“Not that J.R. is bad, or anything,” he adds, and it takes you a moment to realise his grunt had not been a part of his displeasure, and was in fact a result of Coyote’s elbow spiking him hard in the ribs.

“It’s certainly unique,” you shrug, you mind flooding with possible responses, but they were the kind you’d give to a friend, a fellow aviator you’d known and flown with for years, not a virtual stranger.

Then again, you were trying to assimilate, and in Seresin’s case at least, verbal sparring seemed to be something he actively sought out. You’d noticed it the past week. He wasn’t ever exactly mean but he toed the line, just enough to bait out a response, however, he was let down by the fact these people knew and cared about him, and were willing to simply ignore his attempts to roll around the proverbial mat (which, to his credit, he still seemed to gain some satisfaction from. The man was a master of mind games).

You aren’t completely certain you’re right in your observations, but you figure it couldn’t hurt to try, seeing as with very little effort, he’d helped you get over eight years of nitpicking about your callsign off your chest by simply pointing it out.

“Well, it’s not too unique. It could have been something really embarrassing, like yours.”

You realise then, that actually, it could hurt quite a bit to try after all.

Everyone stares either at you, including Hangman who blinks slowly, his face completely devoid of any give away as to whether or not you’ve just made your next few weeks here a whole lot worse for yourself. You think Rooster lets out a quiet chortle disguised poorly as a cough, at the same time Fanboy whistles slowly, like a school student signalling the start of a fight. You feel your face begin to heat up, and you clumsily shuffle your slipping back further up your shoulder, not helped by the way Hangman has not stopped staring at you, his eyes following your jerky, nervous movements.

That’s when you see it, and strangely despite the utter mortification and minor panic you’d almost been sent into, an amount of joy that is definitely too much fills your chest and head. Hangman clicks his tongue against his teeth and you can see clearly now, that although not a reaction you had seen him give his friends, he was performing this solely because he could see it was getting a rise from you, compounding your uncertainty.

You aren’t sure if being correct about the man living for drama is really a good thing at all in the long run, but for now, you’ll take the amused smirk that grows across his features, and the likely subconscious acceptance in his unrelenting gaze.

Phoenix snorts then and kicks out at Hangman’s shoe. She isn't looking at him though, instead she’s got you fixed in her gaze, grinning widely and brightly in a manner that suggests you might have just gotten a two for one deal tonight.

“We’re all heading out to the Hard Deck later, you should come,” she tells you, eyes sparkling in a way that makes you glad for the effective trick shot you’ve managed, as you’d had Phoenix pegged from the start as the hardest nut to crack. “Especially if you’re gonna keep tone on Jake.” she adds with a snort, and jerks her head in Hangman’s direction

You briefly glance toward the blond man, who has surprisingly little add, considering his downfall was being planned right in front of him, but he simply seems to be listening good-naturedly, as if he didn’t spend every conversation he had playing a verbal game of cat and mouse his opponent usually had very little chance of winning.

Now, he sits quietly, half listening to what Phoenix had been saying, and half tuned in to Payback and Fanboy’s lively chatter about pool trick shots. Hangman cuts in, declaring the trick shot described as ‘simple’, and you wonder if Phoenix considers beating him at pool to be keeping tone.

From the way he clearly puffs his chest out now, fully invested in the trick-shot chatter, you think it just might.

You look back to her, and find that she too has picked up on the boy's plans for later, her face now pulled into a near-machiavellian grin. She dips her chin in question to you, and then towards Hangman, the meaning clear as crystal, and you give her a completely unrestrained smile in response, which only makes her own smile turn positively villainous.

All of sudden you feel as though you’ve arrived on the first day of summer camp. Before you even know it, you feel a friendship begin to form, one far stronger than any mere pinky promise, the kind of loyalty that can only be adequately expressed through the sacred exchanging of friendship bracelets.

Camp is ended when the up until now quiet presence of Rooster lets out an amused snort. He looks as though he wants to say something, to Phoenix, at least, but holds off, either because it would give the game away to your unsuspecting victim, or perhaps because he didn’t really know you well. The man wasn’t shy, per se, what you’d picked up over the last week was that of a man happy to let others do the talking, but would gladly take part if he had something to offer or add. The kind of quiet confidence that comes from knowing you were actually extremely cool, you suspect.

It was nice, and one of the reasons you were so eager to make a good impression and naturally ingratiate yourself here. Unless something majorly disruptive were to happen, this was your squad now, very likely until you left. There was nowhere to go up-wise, Dagger was the best of the best.

You and Phoenix reign in your expressions and she shrugs more casually, leaning back into the cushions.

“We’ll see you later, then. Bob lives on base, so I can ask him to wait for you if you want?” To her credit, her voice has fallen back into a smooth casualty that only further cements your desire to be her friend. You nod and give your own shoulders a bit of a roll.

“I’d appreciate that a lot, if it's not too much trouble for him?” You aren’t sure you’d go if it meant going on your own. You might be a great Naval Aviator, but you disliked driving, especially at night, and would go some ways to avoid it if you could. Phoenix’s eyes briefly flash with mischief and trouble, but she waves off your concern.

“Nah, he’s always taking this lot home. I’ll let him know.” her eyes again, twinkle, and you get the feeling that soon your numbers in the conspiracy to knock Hangman down a peg or two would rise. Well, it already had, if Rooster counted, but you weren’t sure about him yet.

Instead of letting yourself start to try and unravel and unpick the mystery that was Rooster, you call it a night with two sort-of-wins under your belt.

It does briefly occur to you, that once you get a pool stick in hand, Hangman may not be in the ‘win’ pile for very long.

#jake 'hangman' seresin fanfic #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake seresin #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin

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historianthesecond · 11 months

Note

hi!!!!! i was wondering if you could do a nikolai/reader fic that is similar to the rain scene (or, frankly, i'd be good with any scene) from the notebook:

the reader and nikolai had young summer love, then were separated for a long time, but both kept writing letters for years that were intercepted and never recieved. it all leads up to the angry/yearning argument in the rain where they say it still "isn't over" and some not-so safe for work activities follow.

again, just using the scene as a general guide but it doesn't have to be super similar. (hope that was at least somewhat cohesive and you know what I'm talking about. sorry for the rambling, i've just had this idea for so long and am super excited about it lol) tysm!!! <3

Hi! AAAAAAAA I'm so sorry I'm just answering this ask 😭😭 adult life sucks but anyway. I rewatched the movie now that you reminded me of that scene and yeah 1000% worthy it. I hope you like it! :D

I cut this fic in two parts, because the next one is going to be NSFW, so y'all can read the fluffly part without the filth 🥺👉👈 also because my smut scenes are so long for some reason, and it gets hard to edit 🤡

For All Those Memories We Tuck Away;

Nikolai Lantsov x Fem!Reader-----3K-----SFW

It had always been strange; like a thread that tugged down his heart every time he sensed your presence; familiar footsteps echoing in the hallways, chirping voices flowing through an open window as you walked toward the palace’s entrance.

Nikolai swept his gaze around the ballroom, catching a flash of your hair moving between a myriad of swirling bodies, your figure walking away from where he was talking with one Kerch merchant and his insisting wife that was trying to drag him toward one of their daughters, who was eagerly waiting for a dancing partner.

When he was younger, a childish part of him imagined that perhaps it was that both your hearts were linked by a thread, like the folktales about soulmates.

Now it would have been more of a coincidence.

He raised his empty glass of wine, playing with the delicate stem between his fingers. “If you’d excuse me,” Nikolai said once the merchant stopped talking to take a breath. “I’m afraid my feet are sore today; I wouldn’t wish to give a bad impression to your lovely daughter.” His hands gestured away toward the table filled with pastries and desserts. “I’ll go fetch another drink. In the meantime, please enjoy.”

Nikolai slipped between the crowd before someone could grab him back by the arm, his neck tilted upwards to scan the room, wishing to see another glimpse of you, or else, he’d thought it was a fantasy.

It wouldn’t have been the first time he imagined you, hoping to see you walking in the courtyard again, lounging in the garden, near the fountain, hands busy as you braid a flower crown. Bumping into you in a corner of the hallway, with your eyes lost in the flicking details of the sunlight reflecting in the decorations of the palace’s walls.

Just a painted reverie, hidden, ruined beneath layers of regrets and missteps overlayed over the decade that set you both apart. Grey and brown with the marks of ash and mud from the battlefield, streams of black ink dripping from crumbled paper’s edges, messy calligraphy from writing down on his knees. Streaks of green and blue of the open sea and the bright sky, the white of the paper replaced by maps and sails.

Nikolai forgot you, or so he pretended. Another distant memory of the past, from those fleeting moments when he felt happier, lighter as he bathed in the soft sound of your laugh.

He trailed down the path he saw you slipping into before, the longing sound of your giggle reverberating in a corner of the ballroom, frozen in all those occasions Nikolai had cracked a silly joke. Only that this time, he wasn’t the one amusing you.

His steps halted, jaw stiffened at the thought of him peeking out into the exit staircase only to see you chatting with another nobleman to which you'd surely be already engaged, if not married.

Curiosity will always take the best of him because he couldn't just walk away. For the first time in years, you were so close—only a door away, almost—but to him felt as if an unsurmountable abyss had opened in the marble floor.

His hand took the handle, turning it slightly. Cold wind blew in the hallway from the open entrance gates. He saw the rosewood hues of your skirt over the steps, your back mid-turned toward him as you waved goodbye to the Count’s only daughter.

Like a spring, your eyes settled on him before he could even conceal his staring.

Not like he could, of course, his eyes hoping to take you in every detail, as if that way Nikolai could engrave you, this new you, with your adult features, into his mind forever.

You looked away; the moment so fleeting that the Count’s daughter didn’t even notice. “Promise you’ll come to my tea party on Thursday?” she was saying, already crossing the entrance threshold.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” you replied with a chuckle, steps elegantly descending the stairs when your friend left, your body disappearing from his view as you tried to put as much distance as possible.

Nikolai opened his mouth, but for the first time in so long, words just wouldn’t come out. He darted down the stairs as he did when he was a boy—good thing nobody was looking at this unroyal attitude—, his boots muffled by the carpet.

Saying your name brought a strange sensation in his mouth, like a prayer gone awry. It echoed in the stillness of the foyer; and he repeated it, louder this time. "Wait!"

From the direction toward the former Queen’s gardens, your silhouette flicked between the shadows and glinting gold from the dusk reflected in the canopy, your back still turned toward him, shoulders slightly hunched.

Nikolai breathed your name, voice so low he thought he imagined it, his hand hovering on empty air as if trying to reach you, to gather the courage and jump the evident rift that set you apart.

You looked from above your shoulder. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

He stood there, mid-hallway, hands clenched in a futile attempt to appear calm. "You came."

From the myriad of invitations sent, he didn’t even waste energy in imagining you would assist at the ball, not when you had missed his coronation ceremony months ago.

“Elena told me I can’t hide from the King of Rakva forever," you said, settling on the corner against the wall, the wind carrying away the essence of summer flowers in Plein bloom. "It brings a bad reputation upon our house."

Elena, your sister-in-law. Nikolai had heard of your mother's passing during times of the civil war, but up until that moment, he never remembered before to at least send his condolences, even if your mother was never a fan of his despite his endless charm.

Nikolai doubted his mother the Queen would have confessed to yours the real nature of his real relationship to the Lantsov bloodline, no matter how close the two seemed to be, but your mother had given you your sharp wit. It wouldn't be so far-fetched for her to have to guess it on her own.

He walked toward you, eyes gazing at your hands, bare fingers. You noticed, hiding them behind your back in a swift movement.

“Would you like to come with me on a walk through the garden?” Nikolai said, his arm extended toward you. “I would be honored to have your company.” After so long, he wished to say, but couldn’t. It could have sounded like a reproach, and he didn’t wish to bare laid that hurtful part of him that was convinced of your oblivion.

You met his gaze, observing his smile that tried to be charming only to notice the slight tremor on his lips.

“I can’t deny a request from Your Majesty,” you replied, stomach fluttering as if you hadn’t matured at all when you grazed your hand on his arm.

“Then I should have sent to your residence a marriage proposal instead of the invitation for a ball,” Nikolai found himself saying, the words escaping before he could think of the consequences. A result of the old times, he supposed.

You feigned a chuckle. “Your Majesty is very funny.” Like always, hung on the charged air between you two.

“I’m flattered. Though it has its downsides, as you can observe. People usually assume I’m joking.” He observed the way your footsteps guided you down the path, barely an afterthought as your graze hand poked the flowers in bloom, your brows slightly pinched in focus as if you were arranging flower decorations in your head. “When I’m not.”

You looked at him from the corner of your eye, lips in a neutral line. “Unless you’re still engaged to that gentleman... Mr. Komary?”

You gazed away, cheeks hot from embarrassment. It wasn’t a secret that the only reason you weren’t engaged ever since you were children was because of your mother and her terrible way with lies.

Instead of telling the former Queen that she wasn’t interested in marrying her only daughter to a possible bastard, she had told her that you were already promised to a kid in the Wandering Isle. Family so discreetly that nobody could get a hold of his existence.

“I’m just here because it would be good to make acquaintance with the future queen,” you replied, your tone very monotone, eyes drawn in a far part of the garden, on white walls covered with vines, violet flowers like trumpets contrasting vividly against the marble. “I would like to honor my mother’s place as lady-in-waiting.”

It shouldn't have hurt this much, thinking that Nikolai had assumed the same ever since years ago. But it did, like the ghost of his first shooting wound, right in the chest. Seemingly mortal, though not really.

The sky was getting darker, clouds hiding the last rays of sunlight as the cold wind blew between the bushes, whispering a clatter of remembrances of two happy children laying on the grass and of giggling teenagers running away from the guards, heading toward the lake with the tail of your dress half-smoked thanks to one of Nikolai’s new inventions.

“And what about us?” Nikolai said because he had learned to play all his cards, to seize every opportunity. “Have you considered it’s better not to keep our promise?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you cut in, your lips curved in a sour smile. “We were just kids back then. You can move on.”

“Have you move on?” he couldn’t stop himself from saying.

You didn’t answered, so he stopped in the middle of the cobblestone path despite the drizzle starting to soak into his jacket, your hand falling limp at your side. “I’ve always thought that kids’ love is the most unconditional kind.” His eyes warmed you from the cold rain starting to embed on your skin. “Don’t you think so?”

You felt a familiar knot in your throat, hoping that he couldn't see the red on the whites of your eyes.

“You forgot about me,” you said in a whisper, scared that if you talked too loud, your voice would break. “You never wrote to me—you can’t say that. You have no right!” you shouted, embarrassed for your outburst when in your mind everything was already settled.

Nikolai furrowed, his hair starting to stick to his forehead. “I wrote you for months—so much I got a bump on my finger.”

You huffed, arms crossed over your chest. “You’d always have that bump,” you replied. “You write too forcefully, that’s why you can’t draw.”

He copied your stance. “I draw my inventions’ blueprints quite masterfully, in case you don’t remember.”

You scrunched your nose like a bunny, and despite his irritation, Nikolai had the urge to lean in and kiss you, knowing that your pout would disappear. “I mean artistically. You could never draw me.”

Nikolai couldn’t stop the smile from escaping his lips. "Perhaps we should give it another try," he said, his hand touching your chin, his eyes drawn to yours. “Sitting in that big red velvet chair with uncomfortable rest, chin up to stop the crown from slipping out your pretty head.”

“My hands would get too clammy from holding the orb and the scepter," you said from memory. “The orb would fall from my hands, and I would get indebted to the royal family forever.”

“The King wouldn’t mind,” he assured you. “He has a soft spot for you, I’ve heard. Always have,” Nikolai muttered, crooning his neck down toward you.

He could feel the warmth of your skin, the sweet essence of your hair that had become more citric than floral, and the way your eyes traveled from his eyes to his lips.

“I wrote you about each dusk I could see without buildings covering the view, hoping that it wouldn’t be the last,” he said in a mutter despite the rain surrounding you. “About how I dreamt of you, imagining that you lulled me with that little song you liked to hum when you were bored—to keep the nightmares away. How the fields covered in dandelions and sunflowers remembered me of you." He chuckled a strained sound. "How can you believe I never write you? You've sieged my mind ever since I have memory of our first encounter. Everything calls back to you.”

He rummaged inside the inner pocket of his jacket, getting out a tiny, disheveled pony figure between his fingers. It had been once white with black hair, a blue saddle decorated with painted daisies. But time had worn it out, brown spots of the wood peeking between the paint.

The silly but sincere gift of a young girl. Your favorite miniature horse toy to accompany him on the battlefield, just as his gift would stay with you on those slow nights of study in the emptiness of your bedroom.

"How could I ever forget you when you're always near my heart?" Nikolai muttered, passing a thumb around your cheek, feeling the warmth of your tears against the pad of his finger. “How could I let you go when this isn’t over for me?”

You smiled, your trembling finger passing through the figurine. “That’s Pearl.” From between the pocket hidden in your skirts, you produced a wooden soldier with its broken rifle—from that time Nikolai toppled it off from his balcony.

“You still have my little friend,” he said in a whisper that was meant to be a chuckle, but now strained.

“I couldn’t throw him away,” you muttered, barely holding back a sob. “He would feel very lonely.”

A lonely soldier that had become a lonely king.

Nikolai enveloped you into his arms, pushing you against a wall to alleviate the force of the raindrops all over your soaked hair; lips hungrily seeking yours to try and make up for the time he had spent imagining how a kiss from you would feel if it would taste like wine and chocolate pastries you had been eaten at the party. You gasped into his mouth, and for a second, he thought you'd push him away.

But instead, your arms hung around his neck, and he started swaying you from side to side as you cried against his chest. “Saints… I missed you so much.”

“I’m sorry, Kolya,” you said, voice muffled against his soaked coat. “I should’ve tried harder. I shouldn’t have believed Mother about your lack of letters. I’m sorry.”

His laughter rumbled on his chest down your cheeks, which made you smile despite your teary eyes.

“We were both very foolish and young to know any better,” Nikolai drew circles on your back. “A clear sign that we’re a perfect match, don’t you agree?”

"I thought a King ought to be wise," you couldn't stop teasing him.

He nudged you closer. “That’s why I need a Queen like you at my side, my lovely.” Nikolai kissed you again, convinced he wouldn’t get tired of it. Because how could he? It was one of his dreams coming true. “What do you say? Should I duel Mr. Komary? I’m an outstanding swordsman. An excellent shot.”

You smiled, hands brushing away the locks that had started to cover his eyes. “Good to know you’re as humble as ever.”

Nikolai winked. “Just another one of my long list of qualities.”

“I don’t think my brother would say no to you if you propose,” you said between the rumble of thunder in the distance, refuged between his warm arms. “Hypothetically, Ally would love to have an excuse to visit your workshop.”

“Only hypothetically, of course. I would be delighted to show him around.” He smiled. “Is he still interested in terrestrial transportation? I'm sure I can convince you to look elsewhere, like up, maybe.”

“You’re more excited to see my brother,” you feigned an offended pout. “Perhaps you should marry him instead?”

Nikolai shook his head, stealing a kiss from your lips as he chuckled. “I couldn’t win a duel against Lady Elena. She’s a scary one.”

“And I’m not?” you said, trying to push him away when the cold of the wall stuck to the wet bodice of the dress.

“I’m sorry, my flower, but no.” He took one of your legs up, so you could tangle them around his waist, allowing him to dip his head lower and kiss you even more. “You’re like a bunny. My adorable bunny.”

“Bunnies bite,” you replied after your round of kisses was over, tiptoeing to nibble at his lower lip just for a moment.

He looked at you, eyes filled with both love and desire in the way they got framed by his lashes. “By all means, do it again,” he said, which made you laugh. One of his hands slipped on your bottom, and you yelped. “But not here. Hold still.”

Nikolai walked back to the rain, both hands holding you closer to his chest as your legs hugged his waist.

“What are you doing?!” you whispered against his ear, arms around his neck as you bounced up and down with each one of his strides, trying to ignore the heat pooling down your stomach at feeling his warmth body through the wet layers of fabric.

"I'm carrying my beautiful fiancé to my chambers to dry her off, of course." The rain echoed on the roof of the private wing of the Grand Palace, and you couldn't stop from burying your head in the crook of his neck at seeing the guards flanking every other entrance. “I wouldn’t like her to end with a cough that could delay our wedding.”

You felt your cheeks hot despite the sudden trembles traveling down your body. “To your chambers? That’s very inappropriate.”

Nikolai kissed your cheek. “I don’t hear you complaining,” he said with a clear note of amusement in his voice. “Don’t worry. We’re almost there.” Another kiss, this one falling behind your ear. “I’ll make sure to warm you up whole, my lovely.”

#nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #nikolai lanstov x you #nikolai lantsov imagine #shadow and bone x you

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thelampisaflashlight · 4 months

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Headcanons surrounding the abbey, the siblings, and the ghouls. Let's go.

-The abbey is a mix of new and old architecture, with an emphasis on cohesively blending the newer wings with the older parts of the building, at least from an aesthetic standpoint.

However, there are some parts of the abbey that have been intentionally cut off by modern additions, in other words; There are parts of the abbey that are visible form the outside, but completely inaccessible from within.

These parts of the abbey are either structurally unsound, thus dangerous for anyone to venture into, or have been sealed for reasons unknown.

As a result of this decision to conceal rather than demolish these areas, the abbey has a very mazelike layout akin to the Winchester Mansion, and new and old siblings of sin are often seen consulting maps to find their way around.

-The basement where the ghouls reside/where their dorms are housed is NOT the abbey's "real" basement; The abbey's actual basement, where the electrical panels and pipes feed down to, is only accessible through two points on the property.

The first entrance is located through a door labeled, "Custodial Services Only", and is pretty obvious, given that the door itself is painted bright red and has a keypad beside it, whereas the other one is located... somewhere.

Yeah, no one actually knows where the second entrance is, but it's somewhere outside.

The ghouls also have another way of getting into the actual basement, but that's because ghouls really love to dig.

-Speaking of weird shit underground, if it wasn't bad enough that the abbey is a maze, there's plenty of places where one could accidentally wind up in the catacombs, because, yeah, not only do they have two basements, they have a tunnel of bones, too!

Mountain says it used to be used for burials back in the olden days, but that it eventually took on a more sinister history that he prefers not to delve into.

Dew sometimes hangs out down there with "the nuns", and he won't elaborate more on what he means by that, and everyone is lowkey a little concerned.

-On the topic of the nuns though... Yeah, there's a bunch of dead nuns floating around the place, which may or may not be the reason why the library is so fucking haunting, but we digress.

Many of the siblings report seeing apparitions of nuns -not sisters of sin in their habits, straight up nuns- traveling through some of the more secluded hallways, and on occasion one of the old chapels seems to be filled with the sounds of prayers spoken in Latin despite the room itself being condemned and empty.

This is another place where Dew can be found from time to time, seemingly having conversations with the air.

-The infirmary is one of the newer additions to the abbey, as the older wing dedicated to medical services was bricked shut during renovations decades ago and has been left to rot ever since.

There's a challenge among the medical staff, ghouls included, in which they have to travel from the infirmary to the old wing, touch the wall where the door used to be, and come back, and there are marks from where they've placed their hands there.

Aether undertook this mission solo after his retirement, needing to feel some kind of connection to the abbey and leave his mark, and truth be told he's never quite been the same since.

According to him, once you see the wall, it's impossible not to feel different.

"You'll always know someone is looking out for you... whether you like it or not."

And lastly;

-There's a rumor among the siblings that there's a secret cemetery in the woods surrounding the abbey, but no one has been able to find it... at least no one who's lived to tell the tale.

Many more scientifically minded folks think these individuals may have fell victim to sinkholes or one of the edgeless, cavernous wells -such as Ol' Dens' Pond- that have cropped up over the years, but no one can say for certain.

In a way, perhaps, it is a self made graveyard, born of aimless wandering and a lack of caution.

Though the worn crosses turned to naught moss covered stones beg to differ.

#lamp rambles #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band headcanons #nameless ghoul headcanons #sibling of sin #sister of sin #sibling of sin headcanons #sister of sin headcanons

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geekywritings · 1 year

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“Home stopped being a place when you entered my life.”

(Quick info: I’m also taking writing prompts and suggestions for this handsome Jedi! ;) )

_______

How long have the two of you been traveling together? It must have been months. So many weeks of planning, fighting and surviving. Every day, Cal gave you new hope that all of this wasn’t in vain, that you stood at least some chance against the mighty Empire, that any of your actions actually mattered.

But as the war continued, you began to grow tired. No matter how big your victories, the Empire just seemed to grow stronger by the day. You had lost so many comrades and friends on the way already…

Looking up from the holo table, you stared at Cal, as he explained the next mission to your little group. Merrin was listening with a passive expression on her face, while Greeze looked openly skeptical. This was dangerous, but the red-haired Jedi seemed convinced that you were on the path to uncovering something grand. Something to help the rebellion in a new way.

“I don’t know, kid…”, Greeze started after Cal had finished. “It could be chasing nothing more than a legend…”

“Or it could be a real chance.”, the Jedi argued back and once again you found yourself admiring his optimism. Or perhaps it was desperation cloaked in hope. “We just have to try…”

“I agree.”, Merrin jumped to his aid. “It could be a safe haven for all of us. For Cere and her project. And for thousands of others.”

Suddenly all eyes were on you, as they awaited your opinion on the matter.

“It might be nothing more than a legend…”, you began. “But I trust you, Cal. So let’s see what we can find.”

What he promised was nothing less than a new home for those trying to escape the ruthless reign of the Empire. A place to start anew and build something untainted by war. If this mystical place was more than a rumor, of course.

Honestly, it sounded too good to be true to you. There had been only one home you had ever known: The Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Everything that came after that was just a hiding place, a temporary shelter, a location where you constantly had to watch your back or tongue.

The Mantis felt different, but it wasn’t home either. Not really.

The crew split up, each returning to their tasks. Greeze busied himself with dinner, while Merrin went to study some artifact she had recovered from her latest trip. You wandered back into your room, hoping to meditate a little, but couldn’t get into the right state of mind. Thoughts of this possible hidden haven kept spinning in your head, making you almost restless.

The whizz of the door opening had you looking up, surprised to find Cal entering.

“Hey… thanks for your support back there.”, he spoke, hand nervously going through his hair.

“I mean what I said, Cal. I trust you. Or I wouldn’t be here.”, you began. “Besides, at least half of your crazy ideas worked well enough so far, right?” A little humor to lighten the mood, and it worked, as both of your lips drew upward a little.

“But you also looked hesitant.”, the Jedi became serious again, moving to sit on your bed, while you stayed on the floor, eyes locked on his form. Curious green eyes stared back at you, waiting for you to speak.

“It’s not about the mission itself.”, you began, trying to sort your thoughts into cohesive sentences. “I.. I just find it hard to consider any place home again, after…” You left the rest unsaid, knowing full well that Cal would understand.

He nodded solemnly, reaching out a hand to place on your shoulder. “I know what you mean.”, he began slowly, as you tried your best to concentrate. His mere touch had your heart beating so damn loud, heat rushing through you. It had started weeks ago, and you still struggled to get these feelings under control.

You couldn’t be falling in love. Especially not with Cal Kestis. A fellow Jedi survivor. And a man dead-set on whatever mission he chose for himself. He would never love you back, you were certain, and you wanted to avoid the heartache.

Yet every time he reached for you, sought your company in private, you found yourself falling for him all over again.

“But even if it’s not a home for us, it could be for others.”

You nodded quietly. He was right. This wasn’t just about you. It was about so many others that deserved a better life. You were thinking about what to say, when Cal continued, voice low, but steady.

“Besides, home stopped being a place when you entered my life.”

Eyes widening, you stared at him with lips parting in surprise. What? What did he mean by that? You were sure your heartbeat could be heard all across the galaxy at this point, as you tried to wrangle your feelings into place.

The hand on your shoulder wandered higher, pushing some of your hair behind your ear, before coming to rest on your cheek. He was smiling now, his eyes full of gentleness and… was that affection? Longing? Love?

“Cal…”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He was about to retreat his hand, but you were quick to place yours on top, holding him against your cheek.

“Do you mean this only as a friend, Cal? As a comrade on the battlefield?”

You had to know. Had to be certain before you laid your heart open to him. Seconds ticked by like small eternities before you heard him breathe one simple word: “No.”

He couldn’t prepare for what you did next. Heck, you yourself weren’t prepared for it. You just closed the distance between the two of you, pressing your lips to his.

Cal froze for a second, but before you could think he might not enjoy it, he was kissing you back, hand moving from your cheek to the back of your head, making sure to keep you close. Your own arms had sneaked around his neck, keeping him equally tight against you, as you gave in to the longing you had felt for so long.

“I love you…”, you breathed between kisses.

“And I love you, starlight.”, he said, slowly pulling away to look at you. “And for as long as we are together, it doesn’t matter where we are.”

It was true. He was your home as much as you were his. But that wouldn’t stop you from trying to find a shelter for others. You simply had to try.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x yn #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #jedi survivor

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douglysium · 4 days

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In Defense of Smirke's 14

This is an exerbt from a larger article discussing episode 13 of TMAGP. So if you want to understand the full context you can do so here- https://docs.google.com/document/d/12_bKOpD_Ffic1yTDNEJGb2UlN2oUnSQn5lLKKnDCtMU/edit#heading=h.uwedvf2nuk5c

Why Smirke’s 14?

I’ve seen more and more people asking why people such as myself have been deferring to, or even adamant about, Smirke’s 14 still being applicable, and to be honest I don’t think I’ve done the best job actually sitting down and explaining all the logic in a cohesive way. Considering Lena mentioned balance and opposing forces in episode 13, and how that rings similar to Smirke’s original philosophy of balance among the Entities, I figured now was a good time to mention it.

A mistake that I think a lot of fans make is that they assume the Entities sort of invented fear or are the reason fear exists when this doesn’t seem to be the case. For example, The Extinction and The Flesh are not the reason the fear of global warming / advancing technology and being butchered / consumed / disfigured exist. They merely feed on, and sometimes exacerbate in specific target people, already existing fears and concerns. In MAG 200 we get “Then came minds that knew it differently. They grew slowly, over the millennia; inch by inch they found new things to dread. The fear of their own end, of the things that lived in the darkness, became a fear of the darkness itself. And as they grew to know what it is that they saw, to give it names, and struggle at learning, so too did they learn to fear that their eyes might deceive them, or show them too much. And as they learned to know their friends and kin, so too did they learn to fear the unknown figure, the coming of the stranger, and the silence when they were alone. And when they found fire, that bright ignition of home and hope and progress, the thing that was fear gorged itself on a newfound terror once again.” This fits in line with what we know about the Entities. Generally speaking, what usually happens is once a fear of something becomes great or common enough on a mass scale an Entity will emerge to feed on it. As I’ve mentioned before, these Entities are all parts of a bigger whole but it helps to think of them as specialists. Each Entity specializes in tracking down and consuming specific types of fear, sort of like how different parts of our body have different purposes and can be made out of different tissues and materials for different reasons. Saying the Entities are the only reason various fears exist would be like saying the only reason animals have meat is for carnivores to eat them. In reality, animals started developing various tissues and meats before certain creatures evolved to take advantage of the resource.

The closest we get to the idea that one or more Entities created a fear from scratch is “Once upon a time there was fear. Old fear. Primal fear. A fear of blood and pounding feet, a fear of that sudden burst of pain and then nothing. And that fear was nothing. Went nowhere. Knew not what it was. Then it became. Or perhaps it always was and simply entered. But fear was here and true and was itself, and it hungered. It wished to know more. It wished to feel more. It wished to be more. And to those things that hurried through the grass, that shivered through the night in their burrows and their caves, because they knew the dark held flashing talons and shining eyes, they fed the fear. It was blunt and it was simple, but still it was solid enough to satisfy. And the thing that was fear was sated and content.” However, while some parts of this are ambiguous, such as whether or not the fears were born attached to the TMA universe, the way it’s phrased makes it sound like what most likely happened is the fear of being hunted caused the first ever Entity (The Hunt) to come into existence. This line says that the primal fear “went nowhere.” It would have gone nowhere because nothing was feeding on it but “Then it became. Or perhaps it always was and simply entered. But fear was here and true and was itself, and it hungered.” Suddenly an Entity manifests from or because of that fear and begins to hunger it. Once again, even in the beginning, the cause and effects are existing fears birthing new Entities.

It’s also important to mention that the Entities couldn’t always manifest in the physical world. It is stated “And as the things that were fear hovered at the edge of the world, the flowing horror of these minds nourished them, swelling some and withering others, pushing and pulling the shattered, swirling mass of terror into ever newer and undiscovered forms. And something else began to happen. Some minds did not simply recoil from them and feed them. Some seemed almost to call them, to court them, to hunger for them in return. Minds that saw the faces of the things that were fear, and were compelled as much as they were repulsed. Whether or not they knew what it was they did, they called out. And they were answered. Time is different for fear, and it cannot be said exactly who was the first to open themselves and be filled with the power of terror. A hermit, huddled in a pitch black cave through winter, who emerged and brought the depth of night with him wherever he trod. A pestilent chieftain who found her breath sloughed from her body and rotted whatever it touched. A warrior driven from their village, who found their face as smooth and shifting as the sands of their home. Which came first does not matter, the unseen gap was bridged, and the thin veil between the world that was and the things that were fear had been torn, ever so slightly. And with this tear, they grew stronger, bolder, pouring themselves into the world and creating monsters. Long things that wore you like a suit, smiling things that stripped you from your bones, unseen things that watched and watched and watched and never left you. And with each new creation, each new servant, the Fears reached further and fed the things that made them. And with this newfound power came greed. The hunger for more, the unformed, unfocused, but impossibly huge desire to exist. To join the minds that gave them shape and purpose, and finally drink their fill ‘til they were one and the same. They had no concept of how, or when, or even why, but they needed it. They needed it.”

The Protocol universe seems quite similar to the TMA universe in that it closely parallels ours in many ways. Many of the cultures that exist in our universe exist there, such as the UK and various countries to name a few, and many of the common fears seem like our own. Even if the Entities are recent additions to the Protocol universe a lot of the fears that gave birth to, and sustained, them would presumably still exist. The fear of being butchered for The Flesh, knowledge and being watched for The Eye, the unknown for The Stranger, violence for the Slaughter. etc.. These aren’t completely alien and distinct cultures or worlds here but places that closely mirror or resemble our own. So a lot of the fears would be the same which would mean basically all of the sustenance for the existing Entities would still be there.

While this does address the various categories this does not address Smirke’s 14 specifically, so let’s talk about that. I’ve seen a lot of people under the impression that Smirke somehow caused the Entities to organize themselves into the various categories we see characters throughout the series using but I think this gets the cause and effect of the Entities backwards once again. Smirke is only one guy and not only is he just one person but a majority of the people didn’t know the Entities existed, much less anything about Smirke’s categories. There weren’t a lot of statements were a victim got jumped by say a creeping figure in the dark and surmised “ah this must be related to the ghost that attacked Jan last week as a manifestation of The Dark.” To most people most supernatural events would be brushed off as delusions and the ones that weren’t wouldn’t usually be immediately assumed to be related without due cause. Even in the Post-Change world there were plenty of victims who seemed unaware of the full scope of the Entities and Smirke’s categories. At best Smirke’s categories would affect the manifestations directed at people who were aware of them but most people are not fully aware of these categories. So overall Smirke’s categories would have been but a drop in the metaphorical ocean that is collective fear.

Smirke made the categories based on patterns and behaviors he had noticed in the Entities and their manifestations. Some manifestations seem attracted to the same kind of emotions, or others clash because sometimes they are fighting in an attempt to bring out two often contradictory emotions. The weird spider people are more likely to work together with other weird spider people but they are more likely to fight the weird destructive burning people. So on and so forth.

For a clearer example of what I mean I would point to the various artifact books. The so-called leitners. The leitners didn’t just start popping into existence so that Jurgen Leitner could collect them. Rather, they already existed which prompted Jurgen to look for them and store them in his library before it was subsequently attacked and destroyed. The Entities did not change their entire general behavior on a global scale because one person found a book, Leitner just wrote his name in existing books. Likewise, what Smirke was at least trying to do was note already existing behaviors and manifestations and find commonalities between them. It wouldn’t be super different in concept than any other of the numerous pattern based categories humans make. For example, we divide animals into things like fish, mammals, birds, reptiles, etc.. These categories are usually based on shared traits between these animals but even they are not perfect categories or little boxes. Every mammal gives live birth… until it’s a platypus. How we divide up animals are just made up human concepts to note various patterns and differences. You could also use colors as an example like Gerard does, we assign names and categories to various colors, we even have things like primary, secondary, and complimentary colors, but in reality all colors are just all pieces of a wider spectrum of electromagnetic waves.

Smirke also mentions weird dreams in MAG 138 (The Architecture of Fear) when he says “Did I ever tell you about the dreams? I’m sure I must have. I would dream about them, you see, as a young man, long before I devised my taxonomy. I would find myself in nightmares of strange, far-off places: a field of graves, a grasping tunnel, an abattoir knee-deep in pig’s blood. I believed then, as I still believe now, that these places I saw were the Powers themselves, expressed in their truest form, far more entirely than any “secret” book can claim. And if, as I came to believe, the Dread Powers were themselves places of some sort, then surely with the right space, the right architecture, they could be contained. Channeled. Harnessed. So yes, hubris. Not simply in that, I suppose, but in believing that those I brought into my confidence shared my lofty goals.” Which might imply one or more Powers were trying to communicate with him directly.

Jon does make a point that Smirke’s system is not flawless and it is often subjective as he notes in MAG 183 (Monument) in response to Martin saying he shouldn’t have a domain because he’s not an Avatar “It’s just a word. A word used by… fools like Smirke to try and sort everything into neat little boxes, to reduce the messy spray of human fear into a checklist: Human, avatar, monster, victim. Only now, now there’s a binary. There’s finally a clear dividing line and, well, I’m sorry you’re not happy with which side you’ve ended up on.” Jon also mentions that the domain that appears in the episode is “Dead? Yes. Very much so. This place is… an homage, shall we say. A monument. To him and those like him, who tried to… categorise the world with themselves at the centre. In so doing, constructed the architecture of its suffering.”

However in the next episode, MAG 184 (Like Ants) Jon says “The whole place would collapse and then, without The Corruption’s influence, I think The Buried would flow in to fill the gap.” to which Martin retorts “I thought you said Smirke’s Fourteen was a load of bull?” before Jon explains “I said it was limited, and draws artificial borders, but it does have its use when it comes to conceptualising these things. Regardless, I’m pretty sure we’d be left somewhat… entombed.” This fits in with what Gerard says about the Entities in MAG 111 (Family Business) “And like colours, some of these powers, they feed into or balance each other. Some really clash, and you just can’t put them together. I mean, you could see them all as just one thing, I guess, but it would be pretty much meaningless, y’know, like… like trying to describe a… shirt by talking about the concept of colour.” Using the color example again, technically all colors we see are just varying wavelengths of light but responding to someone asking “does this look red to you?” with “red, blue, purple… what’s the difference? They’re all the same” isn’t that helpful. If I were to put it another way, imagine trying to go through your life without using any units of measurement. Someone asks how far away a country is and you have to explain it to them without any standardized unit of measurement. It’s certainly possible for some but most people would find it even more obtuse, arbitrary, and unwieldy than even the equally made up standardized units of measurement like kilometers and miles.

However, these categories are not clean, they can be nebulous, and people may organize them differently. In MAG 167 (Curiosity) it is noted that a previous Archivist, Angus Stacey, tried to come up with his own categories: “Angus had been too keen to learn, too ambitious in his academic legacy. He had had grand plans to revise Smirke’s Fourteen, and, in doing so, burned through his resources, his luck, and ultimately all but one of his assistants.”

At the end of the day I think what Jon and TMA are saying is that yes the Entities are kind of incomprehensible and that very incomprehensibility means that the only way many people can process what they are and why they act in certain ways is by dividing them into categories. Jon also points out to Gerard that fears can vary depending on the culture and person and Gerard responds with “A lot of them, yeah, but others are deeper than that. And when our fears change, so do these things. But it’s not quick. Gertrude reckons they’ve basically been the same since the Industrial Revolution. She and my mum both liked to follow Smirke’s list of fourteen.” Which makes sense, most people don’t want to die or be stabbed. Gerard’s comment also makes it sound like other people might categorize the Entities differently but he also says “I always think it helps to imagine them like colours. The edges bleed together, and you can talk about little differences: “oh, that’s indigo, that’s more lilac”, but they’re both purple. I mean, I guess there are technically infinite colours, but you group them together into a few big ones. A lot of it’s kind of arbitrary. I mean, why are navy blue and sky blue both called blue, when pink’s an entirely different colour from red? Y’know? I don’t know, that’s just how it works.” The Smirke’s 14 aren’t as specific as some people make them out to be and can actually be quite broad and sweeping categories.

So with that in mind, I think Smirke’s fears are a lot more helpful and generally applicable than people give them credit for. And I mean, Smirke was onto something since he does seem to be one of the people that came up with the Entities’ rituals in the first place. Upon hearing about an attempted ritual for The Dark he realized every Entity probably has a similar ritual. As he says in the statement of MAG 138 “So many have abandoned us, casting about for rituals that I helped design. In my excited discussions with Mr. Rayner, I perhaps extrapolated too much from his talk of a grand ritual of darkness. The Dark, I thought, was simply one of the powers, so it stands to reason that each of them should have its own ritual. Perhaps they already did, even before I put pen to paper.” Once again implying that ideas about The Dark and rituals for the Entities to react to possibly existed before Smirke and he was simply collecting / noting various patterns and similarities. He may simply have been the most recent or well known person to put these thoughts together but not necessarily the first. Even then, Smirke wasn’t completely right because while his theory about balance was technically right in the sense that you need a ritual to summon every Entity into the universe for one to work he seems to have tied each ritual too closely to a single Entity (which luckily caused them to fail until Jonah worked out the issue).

Smirke does ponder if he brought the Entities into existence when he says “Fourteen powers, with their opposites and their allies, each with an aim no more or less than manifestation. Apocalypse. Apotheosis. I wonder, did my work bring about these dreadful things, or – did I simply develop the means by which they can be known?” But I don’t think he’s the sole reason they exist and I’m more inclined to say that he developed “the means by which they can be known”. His categories allowed others to try to understand the Entities and what they want in a manner that was more digestible. In MAG 200 we see Jon walk through the birth of each of the Entities and interestingly The Web seems to have identified itself as being at least somewhat distinct from the other Entities even if it does identify the other Entities as parts of itself: “But there was one, the part that some would call the Spider, that had been given a gift beyond all its brethren. The minds that feared grew suspicious of their own schemes, of connections and consequences, and over time these suspicions became threads, then webs, then nerves that granted the Spider, the Mother-of-Puppets, the Hidden Machination, a mind of its own; to plot and plan and draw its own connections, its own conclusions. Wheels, within wheels within wheels… It would not, could not tell its other parts, for were they even able to understand such things, which they could not, to trust, to share in such a way ran counter to its very essence.”

We also know that the Entities used to be more harmonious but then began to clash and warp as more fears came into existence: “And as these tiny, strange minds grew and learned, they did something new. They began to take their thoughts, their instincts and their horrors, and they crystallised them. They gave them sound and form and shape to share them. And as they did the thing that was fear felt itself began to tear, to crack and fracture along a thousand unseen fault lines. It bled and warped and multiplied, and could no longer see itself as once it did. It could never be whole again.” Funnily enough, this implies that language probably has a big part to play in the manifestation of the Entities but it seems like a general thing as opposed to Smirke singlehandedly fracturing a nigh primordial being with a checklist of vague categories. The invention of language created new ways to transmit and think about fear. Languages that we know probably also exist in the Protocol universe (such as English).

So how does one reconcile The Web distinguishing itself from other parts? Well, I would use Leitner’s example of a large body. In MAG 80 (The Librarian) Leitner says “Imagine, you are an ant, and you have never before seen a human. Then one day, into your colony, a huge fingernail is thrust, scraping and digging. You flee to another entrance, only to be confronted by a staring eye gazing at you. You climb to the top, trying to find escape and, above you, can see the vast dark shadow of a boot falling upon you. Would that ant be able to construct these things into the form of a single human being? Or would it believe itself to be under attack by three different, equally terrible, but very distinct assailants?” Well, the thing about a body is you don’t have complete control over all parts of it. Your iris will automatically contract or relax when exposed to light, your body may have an allergic reaction to something that won’t harm it, your nails and hair will continue to grow so you must cut them, etc.. So The Web is still kind of an amorphous blob and a part of a greater whole but it’s a sentient blob? At least sentient in a way conventional humans can more easily understand.

This is all to say that I think Smirke’s categories are kind of less impactful on the Entities than people give credit for while also being more useful than people give them credit for. I’ve seen people wonder if the Entities blended together when they went through the gap in reality and while that’s possible, if we use Gerard’s color example, the Entities might be closer to wavelengths of light. So it might just be like shining a light through a hole. Sure the light might look like white light sometimes but at the end of the day all the colors of the rainbow are still in there somewhere. I think people get too hung up on Jon saying the categories are bogus while ignoring the times where he admits their merit or finds them convenient to use.

There’s always the chance that I could be wrong, I admit, but I don’t think people give Smirke’s categories enough credit. It’s possible that the people in this new universe use different categories or divide the Entities up differently but that wouldn’t necessarily mean that say The Desolation just no longer exists. Just like me switching from meters to feet as a unit of measurement doesn’t literally change distance. All I’ve done by doing that is just change my point of reference for what’s happening, and the distance is still the same.

Also, from a narrative perspective, while the categories CAN be obtuse and limit one’s understanding (while this might seem reductive to say) the fear categories are a major part of TMA’s identity and what help make it unique from a lot of horror. I’ve seen people who don’t like the Fears and wish the categories didn’t exist (and arguably they missed Jon’s point about arbitrary lines) but at the same time most horror I’ve come across doesn’t really have the various Entities like TMA does. I would go as far as saying that it helps set TMA apart from a lot of other stuff at the end of the day. But, like I said, who's to say that the people in the Protocol universe don’t have their own categories and dividing lines or things didn’t get shaken up at least a little.

However, I think some people are also getting too caught up on previously established manifestations of the Fears. It feels like some people have a long checklist of things like “fire, dirt, ocean, cameras, etc.” and just go through that list looking for things to checkmark. If something isn’t on that list they assume that it must be a new Fear or breaking all the known rules. But remember what Leitner says in MAG 80 when Jon asks “What about bones? Does one of them manifest with, with bones?” “You’re thinking too literally. Examining the physical categorisation, but ignoring the meaning of the thing. What are the bones? In the Distortion, your “Michael”, the structure of a skeleton, an established reality in your mind, is twisted and warped into an impossible form. But in other cases? Are they a symbol of slaughter and butchery? Are they the familiar made wrong? Or are they simply part of the messy, physicality of flesh?” It’s not so much as what the Entities manifest as but why. The Entities can manifest as seemingly just about anything as long as it generates their respective fear. The Vast often manifests as the sky and storms but The Spiral manifested as a storm to torment Michael Crew. Almost any Entity could manifest as needles or what have you in the right circumstances depending on what the focus is. It’s important to focus more on what the fears embody generally and not just tunnel vision on the physical manifestations. The Stranger is the fear of the unknown and mystery for example, not simply just the fear of clowns or circuses. In this way, reducing The Stranger to “the circus one” can be inaccurate despite the relation. The Desolation is the fear of loss and destruction, so while it can be fire it can just as easily hypothetically be a natural disaster like a tornado, earthquake, or even a swarm of locusts destroying your crops. It could even be a bank draining all your assets.

That being said, the reason why I think Smirke’s 14 is still at least somewhat applicable is because none of the cases we have gotten have really been anything that Entities haven’t done or couldn’t do before. This is already long enough so I’m sorry that I can’t go through each of these in extreme detail but RedCanary seems Eye related, Arthur sounds like the Anglerfish, the case in episode 2 is one of the most Flesh statements I’ve ever heard, the case in episode 3 reeks of The Corruption, the case in episode 4 is music that can make people fight each other (probably The Slaughter), the case in “Personal Screening” seems like The Eye again, Needles is a bit unclear to me but considering someone tried to stab them The Slaughter wouldn’t be unlikely (but Enttiies like The Flesh are possible), the case in “Give and Take” sounds like a manifestation of The Stranger, episode 8’s case resembles The Lonely, Episode 9’s case sounds like either The Web or The Desolation, Mr. Bonzo sounds pretty in line for what we’ve seen in regards to The Stranger, whatever “deep” is calling out to Gordon in episode 11 sounds the most like The Buried (The Buried is even referred to as the “Forever Deep Below” in TMA which would relate it to “The Deep” Gordon is talking about. There’s an argument for The Vast too but considering all the graves and the desire to bury things in them I’m more inclined to assume Buried), and episode 12 is just Mr. Bonzo showing up. If you want my full thoughts or have any specific questions you can check out the respective articles here (TMP Quick Thoughts Archive).

There’s one Entity I haven’t mentioned though. That’s The Extinction. The Extinction is sort of confirmed to exist but it’s a bit unclear. In MAG 175 (Epoch) Jon says “Of course it was real – A-At least in the sense that – it was a thing people feared. Whether it was strong enough in its own right to be considered at a level with Smirke’s Fourteen, or – whether it was on its way to getting there, I – maybe. This sort of thing is always muddy.” Whether or not The Change allowed the Extinction to gain enough fear to fully emerge is still unclear. There’s an argument that The Extinction was possibly sent back to square one since it seemed like Jonah didn’t need to involve it in his ritual so it’s possible it didn’t emerge in time. But, like I said previously, a lot of the fears that started giving birth to The Extinction in the first place within the world of TMA probably still exist in Protocol.

Then you have to consider the possibility that other characters or monsters may have been dragged with the Entities to the Protocol universe. If something like the Anglerfish or any number of other beings tied to the Entities got sucked into the Protocol universe it would not be impossible for them to introduce the already existing categories to new people. Likewise, they might still have many similar alliances and biases, a being that identified itself as being a part of The Stranger might still tend to dislike The Eye.

As mundane and unsatisfying as my answer might seem, my reasoning basically boils down to “I have yet to see any conclusive evidence that would prove to me this isn’t Smirke’s 14 and The Extinction” and “All of the stuff we are seeing is stuff Smirke’s 14 did or could do to begin with.”

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #the magnus archives #tma #smirkes 14

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taylortruther · 3 months

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I want the entire cardigan demo explained. I still don’t think she had the characters of james, august, and betty in mind when she wrote the song, especially since it’s the first one she worked on with aaron. I’ve always believed that story came later when she and joe wrote betty together, and she changed certain parts of cardigan and august to create a cohesive narrative. ‘Peter leaving Wendy’ and ‘Peter losing Wendy’ are two very different lines, and it makes me think she changed the lyric to the latter to make it fit into the love triangle where betty is more mature than james. ‘I knew I’d wish you would’ve changed your mind?’ ‘I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs?’ the original lyrics make it sound like he didn’t want to be with her/changed the ending where they stay together or perhaps where wendy outgrows him by cheating and leaving. saying she knew all of this makes it sound like she’s already experienced all of those emotions upon reflection, and they got back together. she’s imagining what she might think about this situation years down the road as she looks back on how they ultimately couldn’t stay away from each other. ‘I knew you’d miss me once the moment died’ seems to imply he left to be with someone else but realized he’d actually lost ‘the one.’ all of these lyrics add context to ‘your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in’ and ‘what you did was just as dark.’ granted, I’m not even necessarily saying all of this happened in 2019-20. maybe she was looking back on when they first fell in love. but idk, I feel like we’re missing some information about something major that she felt the need to write about but couldn’t address directly without creating some sort of narrative around it. I guess the main thing that gives me pause is that we SAW them so often in 2018-19, but that logic is so flawed? you don’t actually know what’s going on in their lives even if you make educated guesses. they were insanely private after all. idk idk. thonking

i would really love a deep dive from her for these reasons too! the perspective from which betty is writing is REALLY interesting. like, yeah, why is she reflecting on a teenage moment as an adult? did it happen again? her grieving sounds so PRESENT, not just reflective.

also thank you for thonking as usual.

#cardigan #maria big brain

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remimibanana · 5 months

Text

A bit about Paradox

So, I wrote a massive story with Furina and Neuvillette, which you can find here!

I didn’t want to make the notes section too long with all my thoughts regarding the story, and so I decided to write all here in this one post!

If you’d like to learn a bit about my thought process behind writing the story, then you’ve come to the right place.

All below the cut!

First of all, this story wasn’t meant to be as long as it is.

I originally wanted to beat my record of 17k for a story, so I aimed for about 20k. Maybe 22k? Like…25k at the most?

That sounded feasible, right?

And then it became longer. And longer. And longer the more I wrote…

I thought I’d never reach the end. It just kept going, aha.

I kept writing until it felt all complete to me. I wanted to tell a cohesive story, which requires a lot of words!

This is why this story took so long to write! Apparently, it took me over a month to write this….

I made the document on the same day 4.2 came out. But I think I started writing a few days later.

I was meant to write one more fic before the end of the year, but I think this might be final one for the year!

It took longer than I expected to write it. But I’m very proud of what I’ve written!

But let’s start from the beginning. What made me write this story in the first place?

I started writing this story after I finished playing Act V and Furina’s Story Quest.

I knew I wanted to write something as soon as I finished the quests, because that’s what I do lol

For example, that’s what I did when I played Neuvillette’s Story Quest. I get really inspired after playing!

I love Genshin's Archon Quests and Story Quests so much.

I always want to play everything first to learn more about the characters before jumping right into writing.

I don’t want to butcher their characterizations. I always try my best to stay as close to canon as possible, but add my own headcanons as well about things like powers because well…I can!

I knew this time around, I wanted to write in Furina’s POV!

Since I wrote in Neuvillette’s POV for Resolution of Water’s Complexity. I thought it would be cool.

And after the events of Act V and Furina’s Story Quest, I knew that I wanted this story to be sad. I surprised myself at how sad this story can get.

Sorry. I break hearts aha.

But it also has its funny moments too! I love humor, and I try to add into my stories in the hopes I can make you all laugh.

This is why I set it after Furina’s Story Quest in particular. I wanted Furina to have her vision since it does play a part in the story!

When I started writing this, I had a very, very basic idea. You know the summary for Paradox?

That’s all I had.

Along with this one thought of Furina dancing on the stage.

Nothing else was planned. I just wrote and it became what it is now!

It’s how I usually write.

I wanted dreams to be a major aspect of the story. I love the concept of dreams, and how they can feel so real.

It's like what they said in Thelxie's Fantastic Adventures.

Perhaps fantasy is not just fantasy after all.

A decent of the fairytale world into the real world. It temporarily became reality, and influenced real things in our world.

I think that's how I'd describe my story, although it was a total coincidence that the event sort of has the same ideas as my story lol

Let's talk about the dream Furina has at the beginning of the story.

As you can tell, it plays an important part throughout it all. It’s referenced explicitly multiple times.

It was the first thing I wrote, which basically set the trajectory for the rest of the story.

I wanted to catch your attention from the very start, which I hope I managed to do!

The dream goes deeply into Furina’s thoughts while she is dancing for her people, which are rather dark as you can see.

On the outside, she's being what her people want her to be. On the inside is another story.

I based this off the things we see in Act V, and what I thought Furina would think about her role.

She mainly didn’t want to fail Fontaine. She received an important role from Mirror-Me, as we know as Focalors to play as the Hydro Archon.

It’s why she worked so hard to keep up her act. Even if she suffers, she would suffer for all of Fontaine.

Everything and anything to protect them from the prophecy. But in the dream, she fails. They realise she’s not the Archon.

Even though she didn’t fail in reality.

It’s what she keeps dreaming about, even if she doesn’t want to keep dreaming of such scenarios.

It’s hard to let go of the past, especially after 500 years.

You feel really bad for Furina in the dream, right? I felt bad writing it aha

As you may have noticed, it’s sort of a parallel with what happened in Furina’s trial!

Particularly the end where everyone looks away from Furina. There are a lot of parallels within this story, which I hope you were all able to get!

It sounds like I planned all this extensively beforehand but I really didn’t lol

Let’s talk about Fillian!

Just like in Resolution of Water's Complexity, we have a character I made up for the story. I hope you liked Fillian!

They/Them pronouns because yes. We support our non-binary friends here.

Honestly, I started writing with those pronouns and it sort of stuck so I kept it that way. I hope I didn’t mess up the pronouns anywhere!

They are a producer and a pretty good actor that plays a huge part in the story.

Pretty much, I wanted a character that was genuinely nice to Furina.

Furina deserves to have at least one person she could truly consider as a friend.

They weren't initially going to have such a huge part, but just like I did in Resolution of Water's Complexity, I wanted to make everything connect.

The name Fillian just came to me while I was trying to work out what name to give them. It's a bit strange, but I feel like it's something you would see in game.

Fillian was the one who danced with Furina at the Fountain of Lucine at the beginning of the story.

Even from the beginning, they were so kind to her. That’s just how they are.

It looks like that they like her, but not in a romantic sense! Although people seem to take it the wrong way, as seen lol

They truly care for Furina. The kindness of them is something Furina can’t truly understand at times.

The interaction when they meet again near her house was so fun to write. It sounds bad what Fillian tells her, and just kept getting worse and worse for her…

It made me laugh. I hope it made you laugh too!

My favourite part is when Fillian gave her the dress she wore in the second act.

I saw that so vividly in my head. The way they would hand it to her, and the way Furina took it...

The fact that they said the same words they did back at the Fountain of Lucine…they truly are something.

Fillian was so fun to write!

Let’s talk about the play next!

This idea came about when I was writing Fillian and Furina's first interaction after the Fountain.

I needed a reason as to why Fillian came up to her. It was the only thing I could think of, so I made them a producer who was also an actor who wanted Furina to act in it.

As you can obviously tell, Filia is Furina and Neuron is Neuvillette. I wanted it to be obvious lol

The initial plot of the play took over 1000 words to explain as I tried to make the plot.

I wanted the plot to loosely resemble Furina’s life. Only if you knew Furina, you would notice.

Particularly, the fact that Filia was playing a role as her older sister who was named Flora.

The name Filia came about because I wanted it to sound like Furina somehow. I couldn’t think of a better name that wasn't too obvious.

Flora was a name I chose because it starts with F and it alludes to Focalors in a way. Even though we already have an NPC named Flora in game lol

Even though Furina played as Filia, I still wrote Furina as you may have noticed. It might be a weird choice, but I felt like it made more sense since Furina was pretty much playing as herself.

I mentioned how Furina has different hairstyles and outfits for the play. This all came about from the concept designs for her!

When I saw these, I fell in love with them. They’re all so good! I had to add them into the story somehow.

Luckily for me, I had the whole play idea!

So Furina can change her appearance drastically because of her vision. I mean, it’s not that far-fetched since she can change between her Ousia and Pneuma forms.

This was the only way I could think of justifying how Furina changed her hairstyle.

For Act 1 and 2, Furina has this hairstyle and this is the outfit that I described!

For Act 3, Furina has this hairstyle and outfit.

That's what I hoped I conveyed!

At the beginning of the play, Furina freaks out because it reminds her of her dream. See what I meant by parallels? There's another one right there!

It affects her so much so, that she breaks down in the middle of the second act.

That was painful to write, the fact that she thought she ruined the whole play too?

Fillian was the true MVP here. The way they comforted her, and didn't belittle her for anything. They even wanted to shut down everything in the middle of it!

But Furina couldn't do that. She wouldn't. Even if she was all hurt, she would finish waht she started.

And then it only makes things harder for her at the end of it all when she sees Neuvillette up there.

He was truly up there, by the way. He only left because he couldn’t handle the intense emotions he was feeling at the sight of Furina crying.

Unfortunately, Furina didn’t know that. And that was the final straw for her.

Furina running out of the Opera Epiclese was something that I wanted to make as emotional as I could.

I used a lot of mirror imagery and ideas in this story, and it is quite evident with when she goes to see herself in the Fountain of Lucine's waters.

Hands drag Furina into the Fountain. I chose hands because I feel like hands are pretty scary?

Let’s talk about what the hell happened at the Fountain of Lucine. I’m sure you are all wondering.

I’m going to refer it as a crazy dream here.

Neuvillette explained it as an overflow of the Hydro energies within the Fountain of Lucine. It reacted to Furina’s emotions, and caused manifestations within the waters based upon past memories, and Furina’s own ones.

I hope that made sense! I literally just made up the explanation because uh…I had to justify why that all happened!

Pretty much, Neuvillette’s emotions were in such turmoil that it affected the Fountain of Lucine, since it was in close proximity to him.

He can control the whole Hydro Element now, after all.

If it was just the skies before, why not something as powerful as the Fountain?

It was shown before in Neuvillette’s Story Quest that he could look through the memories there.

Since it’s where all the waters converge, the Hydro energies within it became unstable.

Furina’s deep emotional pain resonated with the unstable energies when she was next to it, which caused this crazy dream to occur.

Yet this dream truly could hurt her.

It was so unstable that it made her memories come into reality with the past.

It’s like how Vacher saw the people he killed with the Primordial Seawater.

This part was heavily inspired by two things:

Sailor Moon by Naoko Takeuchi and ENA by Joel G!

A bit of a strange combination, but let me explain.

I got really into ENA around the time the video Power of Potluck released. I love how strange but interesting it is. It’s really good, I recommend all the videos!

That’s where this whole part came to be after I watched said video.

I stole the whole act idea from it, and wanted to make it as weird and crazy as I could.

It’s so strange but interesting at the same time, right? Just like ENA. Or it’s just weird and you question why I wrote it at all aha

The acts were named after each of the Archon Quest names.

Prelude of Blancheur and Noirceur

As Light Rain Falls Without Reason

To the Stars Shining in the Depths

Cataclysm’s Quickening

Masquerade of the Guilty

I suppose it would be best if I went through each of the acts one by one and explained a bit about them!

1. Prelude

This one is practically a parallel to the first act in Power of Potluck, it was my major inspiration.

ENA is sort of floating through this place full of pipes. And in my story, Furina is floating within water.

Neuvillette appears as a voice! I wanted to bring Neuvillette in somehow, and I thought that would work the best.

A voice Furina can listen to and follow, even if she didn’t recognize it was him in the first place.

The reason his voice was cutting off was because his own powers going out of control in his haste to save Furina.

As Neuvillette explained at the end of the story, the light was a memory he accessed for Furina to go into, although it was rather random.

2. Rain

Since this act is called Rain, I wanted to relate it somehow to the idea of it.

And that’s when I thought Furina could go back in time to when Neuvillette’s predecessor, the Hydro Dragon was alive.

I made her assume Egeria’s form, because that’s what the memory was.

Egeria meeting the Hydro Dragon in Fontaine somewhere.

I made up everything here by the way, who knows if Egeria was even close to the Hydro Dragon back then?

The reason the Hydro Dragon's form became Neuvillette was when he entered the memory, he took over the Hydro Dragon in the memory.

When did he take over it? Around the time Furina reached out her hand towards the Hydro Dragon, probably.

So Neuvillette heard all her thoughts and feelings. I assume he has full control of the memory, but even so...those hands never stop do they?

I hope it was interesting to read!

3. Stars

This one was heavily inspired by Sailor Moon. I stole the whole hooded figure and River of Forgetfulness idea from it.

I was trying to think of what I could do for this part, and I was reading Volume 12 when it came to me.

In this volume, Sailor Moon and her companions go to a river of sand in order to reach their destination. They meet a hooded figure in a boat.

Sailor Moon and her companions go on the boat, and the sand turns into water and drowns them all in the River of Forgetfulness, doomed to forget everything about themselves.

I made the hooded figure Focalors, since I did say that she could be seen within Furina’s reflection.

I also foreshadowed it when Furina thought “You’re here, aren’t you?” before those hands took her into the Fountain.

Her role was to be cruel and crush Furina down until she was all broken.

I had a lot of fun writing the conversation between Focalors and Furina.

Once Furina sinks down to the bottom of the river, Neuvillette comes to rescue her. Furina has forgotten herself pretty much, but comments in her head about what she hears.

I used this as a chance to hear Neuvillette's side of the story. All this time, I made you think that Neuvillette wasn't truly there any of the times before.

But he was! And we find out his true feelings about everything, including his love for Furina.

He tells her his true name, and it makes her remember! She wakes up, and then Focalors appears again.

Neuvillette here finds out that he did hurt Furina. We don't get to see his reaction to it until later on, but it was the catalyst.

Surprise, surprise! Focalors is actually an Oceanid! And every single fragment of Furina you've been hearing about.

Uh, I'm not sure how much sense it makes, but I was trying to make it sound like each of these fragments were one of the people lost in the Poisson incident.

Or uh...I don't really know lol

The ending of this was abrupt because Furina was forced into another memory.

Even though Neuvillette tried to protect her, everything is still too unstable.

4. Cataclysm

This one, uh...I don't really know why I wrote what I wrote lol

I wanted to reference the first dream again, but decided to bring in Filia and Flora? And the Guillotine that ended Focalors?

It's probably the strangest one out of all the acts, but I like it!

The Personified Fear and Fearful Harmony Filia and Flora talk about are references to the PS1 errors. I love console errors, and these two are some of the coolest ones.

youtube

The ending was also pretty much cut (get it) short by the Guillotine shooting down.

Who knows what really happened at the end?

5. Masquerade

This one was just an excuse for Furina and Neuvillette to dance. I really like dancing!

I was imagining something like this for Furina's look for this act, but I couldn't be bothered describing it all lol

Furina dreamt about this whole scenario before. I thought it would be something she would dream of lol

It also sells the fact that this was all real and that it was based on memories, as Neuvillette explains later on.

It also foreshadows the future kiss if you know what I mean 👀

Here, Neuvillette asks the same question regarding love.

Was it love that made him hurt her?

Of course, it all ends before Furina could actually give her the answer. I like to make things painful.

And that's the end of all the acts! I hope they were cool to you!

I really like them.

Let’s talk about what happened when Furina “woke up” from the crazy dream.

This is the most emotional part of the entire story, it hurt to write it.

I made Furina think it was all a dream. And this was the final straw for her. She breaks down completely.

She goes to the mirror once again, and tries her absolute hardest to smile. She thinks that smiling would help, but she couldn't do it.

I had the idea of Furina pounding against the glass very vividly, and had the idea of making it actually shatter but I thought that would be too much.

Still hurt to write it.

I did have a bit of trouble working out how to bring Neuvillette in. So, I made him a wall.

Furina did say he was like a stone wall, right?

The reason Neuvillette hugged Furina right away is because he was basing off what he saw in the play.

When Furina was crying there, she hugged Fillian tightly. So it was the same idea here!

When he says to lie down, it made me laugh for some reason. It just sounds out of place, so much that it was perfect.

I feel like the rest is pretty self-explanatory! I hope it was a fitting end to it all. It hurt me to write the part where Furina basically tells him to go away.

THE KISS. TWO KISSES ACTUALLY. THE WAY HE GOES BACK IN FOR ANOTHER KISS YEAHHHHHHHHHHH

Ahem.

I made them kiss because yes I needed kissing.

When Neuvillette mentioned how it looked like Furina would disappear, and the whole star in his chest comment and Furina;s explanation...that I stole from Sailor Moon too lol

The disappear part was from Volume 4, when Usagi is with Mamoru in his place after Chibi-Usa wanted to stay there. Mamoru hugs her from behind, thinking how it looked like Usagi was about to disappear.

And the star in his chest was from the very end of Volume 10, where Mamoru put a hand to his heart and wondered why his chest was so warm, as if there was a star inside of it. And Usagi explains how everyone has a star in their heart.

That was sort of the end to this saga!

Let’s talk about the very end.

I wanted to write something a bit more lighthearted as an epilogue.

Here, Furina is finally getting that cake Fillian said they would save a few slices for her.

She's wearing the dress she wore in Act 2 of the play, with her vision attached as well!

But of course, we have Neuvillette appear, who looks like he's a scary dog from afar lol

I wanted them to dance again. I like dancing, and I feel like it's a good parallel to what they did in Act 5 of the crazy dream, and what she did with Fillian.

I keep doing the whole "Neuvillette is a wall" thing, sorry. I just really like the idea.

I wanted Furina to know that it was him who gave her vision to her. I mention the vision multiple times, so I thought it was a good way to end it all off.

My favourite part of all this is when she says 'I love you" to him, and the waters shoot up. It's so darn adorable!

And with that...the story is complete. Basically 43k words later.

After all this time, I managed to finish this story. It took me forever!

Thank you for reading all of this, I hope you enjoyed learning about my thought process behind it all!

I love these two to bits.

#focallette #neuvifuri #genshin fic #just me explaining my thought process #Youtube

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m1d-45 · 1 year

Text

…was birthed chalk

summary: any smith that discards a perfectly good blade holds no amount of power over the craft. perhaps it’s better, then, that the sword is passed onto one who knows better.

word count: 6.1k (good lord-)

-> warnings: spoilers for albedo lore, rhinedottir is Awful and albedo has a small crisis over it.. a metaphor that may or may not make sense only bc i was the one that wrote it

-> gn reader (they/them)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yum1x || @esthelily || @dedef7890

<< part 1 || < masterlist >

when albedo wakes up, the sun has long since risen.

it’s not a surprise, as he stayed up rather late simply thinking, but it was inconvenient.

he sighed and reached for his nightstand, tying up his hair just enough to go through the motions of the morning. it was a fast, familiar, memorized pattern, quickly waking him up and getting him ready for the day. he rushed a little bit, knowing he’d woken later and rhine was expecting an explanation, but he still exited his room with hardly a yawn, moving for the kitchen. maybe he could indulge a bit, have something sweet- to wake him up, of course, and drain the remnants of sleep from him.

he barely had the chance to step over the threshold before rhine’s door opened and she walked out, bag over one shoulder and a folder in the other. she looked over at him, eyes sweeping over his clothes.

“what are you dressed like that for?”

he glanced down at himself. he wasn’t wearing anything stained or torn, and was practically identical to what he’d worn yesterday. a white shirt and pants, thick enough nothing spilled would quickly reach his skin but thin enough that it wasn’t a hassle if they needed to be disposed of. the same things he always wore.

“what’s the issue, master? is there a fault in my clothing?”

her face twisted like he’d said the sky had turned red. “didn’t i say you were coming with me today? that’s not exactly fit for snow.”

the room suddenly turned into a vacuum, all of the air leaving albedo’s chest even as he took a breath. go with her? where? when had she said so? he would have certainly used the time from yesterday to prepare if she had told him.

“stop staring and change. quickly.”

her words snapped him out of his haze and he nodded, a mumble of ‘right away, master’ clumsily pushed out of his mouth as he rushed by.

what did he wear? he rarely went on trips outside of the lab, and when he did it was never far enough to warrant much more than a simple coat. and where were they going? was it going to be cold? hot? dangerous? would he need to be able to move quickly?

albedo felt like his body was moving on its own, stripping off his shirt and pulling on another before he could make the conscious decision to do so. the flimsy band he used to tie up his hair fell to the floor but he hardly noticed, simply grabbing the more secure one for lab work and wrapping it around his wrist as he continued to change.

he wasn’t sure how, but he eventually made it out of his room in a cohesive outfit, a jacket thrown over his arm. when rhine looked him over again, she couldn’t find a fault, nodding and turning for the door.

albedo fought off a smile.

there was a cold wind outside so he ended up putting on the jacket as they walked, feeling odd about it. it was thick to keep out the chill, but… it was strange to have so much more weight to his movements. similarly, walking in boots instead of simpler shoes felt strange, out of place. he supposed it was simply because he’d never really worn them before, rarely ever venturing out like rhine did…

he followed her through a forest, trying to take in as many details as he could without stopping to sketch. brilliant blue butterflies fluttered on top of yellow flowers, large petals dipping and swaying under the weight. sun streamed through the gaps in the leaves, shifting as the winds rippled through the boughs of oak and pine. it bordered on overwhelming, the sounds of birds he’d never heard distracting him long enough that he nearly tripped over a large root.

rhinedottir huffed, an odd mix of amusement and irritation. “what, you never heard a bird before?”

he tracked a large red one as it hopped across branches, searching for something unseen. “nothing this vibrant… i’ve never been this far from the lab before, master.”

she gave him an odd look. “really? i expected you’d be out and about pretty often.”

he tore his gaze away from the bird to look at her in confusion, but.. she seemed serious. “you told me to practice alchemy, so… i did. i run experiments and rarely leave, only if i’m searching for a substance we’re out of. the farthest i’ve been was only around a five minute walk, to… miss alice called it starsnatch cliff.”

her face twisted at the mention of alice’s name, and she picked up the pace slightly. “don’t talk about her.”

“why? has she done something to upset-“

“just listen to me, alright? don’t.”

the conversation died in an instant, leaving albedo confused once more.

the forest soon broke, the trees dispersing out into a plain, and he looked around, trying to get his bearings. there was a map in the lab but he rarely used it, only ever looking to see if rhine could pick him up a material or another that he needed without going too far out of her way. still, he had a vague memory of it, enough to know the name of the mountain they were approaching.

“is the domain near vindagnyr?”

rhinedottir tensed, her grip on her bag tightening. “it’s called dragonspine.”

the edge to her words shuts down any further questions he had, and he bites his tongue with a nod.

another thing to learn.

they thankfully don’t go deep into the mountain, stopping only on the outskirts. he recognizes the domain they stopped at from the diagram she showed him, the diamond sigils faintly glowing yellow.

he inspected the domain, double checking both the inscription on the bottom and the idea he had to solve it. it seemed like it was feasible, but-

“here.” rhine held out a hand, holding a long sheath. a leather handle stuck out from it, the silver of a guard glittering dangerously, and albedo hesitated before taking it.

“why do i need a sword, master?”

she waved a hand as if it was obvious. “it’s dangerous. now stay here, i’m gonna go find a geo slime.”

“i don’t know how to wield it, are you certain-?”

“if you don’t want it then just leave it behind. it’s useless anyway.”

without any other words, she left, leaving him with a sword he didn’t know how to use.

carefully, he undid the latch and pulled off the sheath, revealing a smooth silver blade. it was simple, with a basic cross guard and a neat edge, but he still felt intimidated by the razor-sharp edge. his specialty was with alchemy, not with blade-work… surely rhine knew that?

albedo flipped the sword over and blinked at the engraving along the center of the blade. wouldn’t it make sense to have it on both sides?

he brought it closer to his face, squinting a bit to make out the words. it was an old sword, evidently, and it showed in the faded marks.

‘as the creator forged, so too do i serve.’

albedo stared.

though the words were blurry and indistinct, he was certain that was what it said. but what did it mean? there it was again, the mention of this ‘creator’, this time on a blade? was it a title, referencing the blacksmith? surely that was what ‘forged’ was there for…

at the sound of footsteps he quickly put the sword back in its sheath, deciding to shelve the thought for later.

rhinedottir came up besides him, chest heaving with effort. one of her hands was carefully cupped, a yellowish slime in her hands. “alright, i’ve got the condensate. whats your idea?”

“the inscription says to take the shortest path and to repeatedly-“

“albedo, the elemental energy in this thing isn’t gonna last.”

ah…. “top right, middle left, bottom left, middle right, bottom right, top left.”

she nodded, walking towards the domain. carefully, she smeared the slime over the sigils in the order he told, each glowing brighter as she went. as every sigil lit up, the path connecting it to the center sigil seeped with energy, flowing down to the middle. when the last of the condensate was pushed into the final sigil, the center one glowed as well, pulsing brightly. with a loud and heavy crack, he domain doors split open, falling inward.

rhinedottir was crouched, wiping the remainder of the slime onto the grass, and she stared at the doors

“you did it.”

warm pride bloomed in albedo’s chest. he had.

he helped her up and she picked up her bag of supplies, but turned to him instead of the door, a stern expression on her face.

“now, albedo, you need to stay close to me, alright? don’t stray off or wander, and if you get lost stay put and shout. domains are dangerous things, and frequently filled with monsters. this one should be empty, but in the case that it isn’t… just don’t go poking around where you shouldn’t.”

he nodded, clutching his sheathed sword a little tighter. a satisfied flicker of a smile crossed rhinedottir’s face before she turned, delving into the domain.

he followed dutifully, making sure to stick to her side. it was hard not to ask to stop and look at a carving on a wall, or an inset of gold upon a door, but the idea of her irritation kept his curiosity at bay. they made their way over mossy and cracked stones, occasionally pushing through creaky, rotten doors or climbing over fallen stone. the air itself felt ancient, important, and he wondered why rhinedottir was searching this one. she want one for history, but surely there wasn’t anything of value here…

they stopped in front of a large door, remarkably intact for the state of the rest of the domain. it was simple, blank, and the only visible mechanism of opening it were the four levers, two on each side.

rhinedottir put her hands on her hips, huffing. “there’s only two of us.”

albedo looked around the room, spotting a large pile of debris and not much else. a plan began to form in his head, a rough draft of possibility, and he wrapped the strap of the sheath around his waist to free his hands. the sword was odd and uncomfortable, but it stayed.

rhine spoke before he could, “any ideas?”

oh.

he cleared his throat, carefully stepping forward to see if she would stop him.

she didn’t.

he approached the lever closest to him, noting the large ball on the end for grip. carefully, he pushed down, surprised to see it gave with little effort. the mechanics were likely rusted and tired, unable to provide the resistance it used to, or maybe the weights had snapped off due to their ropes rotting… whatever the case, it made his job easier.

he let it go, watching it ease back into position, and turned around.

“how heavy is your bag?”

at first, her eyes lit up, but they quickly dimmed. “the angle of the levers is too sharp, it’ll just slide down.”

he shook his head. “no. the levers don’t exert enough force rising up to counter your bag, provided it’s heavy enough. as long as we push it down first, it’ll stay.”

she hesitated, holding the bag tighter, but eventually caved. as she walked over, albedo pushed down the lever again, moving to the other side of it so she could hook her bag on it. her hands hovered around it as he removed his hand, but it held.

a smile spread across her face, and she looked up eagerly. “we need one more.”

albedo turned to the pile of debris and took off his jacket, laying it out on the ground. carefully, he fills it with stone, tying the sleeves together into a handle and carefully hoisting it up. a few rocks slip, but he can tell just by holding it that it’ll work fine.

rhine gets his plan and lowers the lever for him, letting him hang the jacket on it. together, they move to the other side of the door, taking their own levers. creator and creation, in sync, pushing down the levers to a domain.

when the door creaks open, albedo turns to her in joy, delighted at the show of cooperation-

rhinedottir brushes past him, pulling her bag off the lever as she walks past.

the doors begin to slide close and albedo rushes to slip between them, leaving his jacket hanging in his haste, and shivers at the cold in the new room.

it’s dark, more so when the doors shut with a bang. the only light is a pale blue in front of him, the shadow of rhinedottir outlined within it. she’s peering down at something, her bag dropped at her side.

the floor is covered in something dark, something that floats when he kicks at it. he crouched, careful not to touch it, and sees they’re… feathers. thousands and thousands of feathers, littering the floor and walls. they’re large, smooth, as if all the feathers on an impossibly large bird had simply… fallen off.

the sound of a zipper draws his attention, and he looks over, standing. the source of the blue light is gone, the light now white and coming from a headlamp on rhinedottir’s head. she’s zipping up her bag, a self-satisfied smile on her face. “i should have brought you sooner, your skills are a pretty good tool.”

the air went cold.

ice quickly crawled through albedo’s veins, faster than it would naturally just from the chill. an unnatural, frozen mass settled in his stomach, fed the more he turned over rhinedottir’s words in his mind.

she didn’t seem to notice, busying herself with brushing off feathers from a door in the corner, but albedo couldn’t shake it off as easily as she did.

why did it bother him so much?

the walk back to the lab was cold, both because he had left his jacket and because it was nearing nighttime. the lamp on rhine’s head was the only source of light, forcing him to walk behind her and keep his eyes trained on the floor to watch where she stepped. now that it was dark, he could see that something in her bag was glowing, blue light barely edging through the gaps in her zippers. she’s taken something from the domain, but what?

he didn’t notice when they arrived, too lost in his thoughts, only pulled out by the sudden warmth around him. he shut and locked the door and watched as rhine goes through her normal routine. boots off, coat off, bag in hand, and it’s only when she pushes open her door that he takes a step and realizes a problem.

“master?”

she pauses, slight annoyance flashing for a brief moment across her face. “what?”

albedo undoes the loop of the sheath, holding up the sword, but she shakes her head.

“keep it. you’ll need it later.”

without another word, her door closes, the silent click of the lock solidifying the barrier between them.

the next day is wrong.

it’s the only way he can describe it. there’s a tension in the air he can’t quite understand.

he’s cold even under his blanket, and he thinks about putting on his jacket only to remember he doesn’t have it. the floor is cold, and he shivers as he walks to his door.

the fire is out, which explains why the room is so cold, but it still feels empty beyond that. everything is in its place, nothing is overtly missing, but…

albedo grabs a lighter and some tinder, crouching besides the fireplace and relighting it. sparks fly and flame catches, and he stays for a moment to warm up, looking around the room. snow has swept in besides the door, which makes him frown. why would rhine leave again so soon after a discovery?

the fire crackles and pops to life, and he stands, backing away a bit so he doesn’t get burned.

what’s wrong?

why does the room feel so empty?

he turns, intending to check the small table by her door where she sometimes leaves him notes, but his attention catches on his desk.

it’s mostly as it was when they left the day before, with one vital exception: a large and thick book, weighing down two envelopes.

if he had a heart, he had a feeling it cracked.

he feels… a word comes to mind, dread, but he doesn’t understand it, not fully. his breath picks up as he approaches the book, as his shaking hand brushes over the print of his name in his master’s handwriting and he feels cold.

‘albedo,’ it reads. nothing more. nothing less.

his chest feels tight, his mind running rampant as it tries desperately to catalogue, define, and diagnose whatever makes him feel so nervous.

carefully, cautiously, albedo pulls the envelope from beneath the leather bound book, feeling afraid.

he pulls out his stool and sits, mostly so he doesn’t feel as nauseous, and rips open the letter, pulling out the twin sheets of paper inside. its… small. the ‘paragraphs’ are barely a line or two long, yet the handful of sentences feel like they’re being forced into his mind by chisel.

Kreideprinz,

I have found what I have been looking for. Locked within the domain we searched was the Heart of Naberius, and I have no further matters to attend to here.

Go to Mondstadt. Find my old friend, Alice, and give her the recommendation letter. Then, complete your final assignment. Any other projects you were working on prior are now void; consider this to be the only one that matters.

Your final assignment: show me the truth and the meaning of this world.

— Gold

he reads and rereads the words over and over again, but they don’t stick. his hands are shaking, worse now, and something in his chest begins to hurt. he checks the other page but only finds a map, the backs of both papers empty. nothing more. nothing less.

albedo drops the papers, if only to read them without the words shaking, but finds that his sight has begun to blur. he wipes the water from his eyes and tries again, and again, and again to understand what’s written in the letter.

rhinedottir always said that if he didn’t perform well she would simply leave; was this the end result of that? had he failed to keep up with the pace she had silently set? was there some silent cue he was meant to follow, something to direct him to the answers she wanted quicker than he would organically find them? was he meant to be quicker, more efficient, was he meant to find things at such an inhuman pace because he was never truly human to begin with?

‘kreideprinz,’ she says (nothing more, nothing less), pretending as if the title from his ‘childhood’ wasn’t something he had clearly failed to earn if she had left, if he had somehow failed. ‘recommendation letter,’ for an ‘old friend,’ as if she hadn’t stopped talking about her after the incident with klee, never inviting them back no matter how many times albedo subtly hinted alice might be able to help her.

even as he stands, as his mind registers the command of his final assignment, a large portion of his mental space is taken up by the instincts she drilled into him, desperately attempting to make sense of at least something.

maybe it’s hunger, his thoughts nudge, but he’s never had the largest appetite to begin with, and accidentally skipping days of meals while he was focused on a project never made his stomach hurt like it did now. he feels- he doesn’t know how he feels, he could stop and sit and think for a year but never know. the words he’s searching for are out of his reach, blurry, unknown to him even as he feels them all the same. he knows that it’s likely some sort of panic response, the ever-analytical sector of his mind forever chugging away and collecting data on his own feelings, but he doesn’t know why.

why?

he pulled a bag from his closet, blankly running through a checklist his brain pulled from thin air. the book rhinedottir left him was tucked into a pocket, the letter put away while the map stayed out. ‘mondstat,’ she said. he’d heard about it from alice—made sense, he was supposed to go there to see her—but while the name was familiar, he still didn’t know where it was.

he’d packed. nearly all of his belongings were tucked within the bag, save for maybe a few of the early textbooks he studied from simply due to space and weight. still, even as he set it on his desk and stared at the map, reading the names yet not registering the information, he didn’t feel ready.

feel. the word was beginning to lose meaning.

he felt things he didn’t understand and didn’t feel what he thought he should. he wasn’t angry that she left without warning, nor sad at the lack of assignments or the vagueness of the one he did receive. he wasn’t resentful—a word that hardly applied to him anyway—because she had left before she reviewed something he’d submitted to her. he wasn’t anything he knew, and everything he didn’t.

he was just… hollow.

albedo wiped the tears from his eyes and made an effort to read the map, understanding only the location of the lab, the marker designating north, and the city labeled mondstat. he folded the map and put it in his pocket, pulling a lab coat over his shoulders and hefting the bag. the door was cold, the wind outside even colder, and as he stared at the key in his palm, he wondered if it was even worth it to lock the door.

metal twisted within metal.

the chalk prince crumbled.

the first thing albedo noticed about mondstat was that it was tall.

buildings stretched higher than he’d ever seen, walls so tall he had to look up to see the guards patrolling along the top, bows in hand.

the second was that it was an island.

he checked the map rhine left him—and blocked out the part of his mind still documenting the bitterness in the back of his throat, wondering if it was emotion or illness—and upon further inspection, if he squinted.. the blurry lines revealed there was in fact water around the city.

he folded it away. at least he knows he has the right place?

he steps from the treeline where he’d been resting, pulling the familiar weight of his bag i’ve this shoulders and-

“albedo?”

he freezes, barely a foot from the shade of the whispering woods.

he turns, slowly, and sees red within one of the bushes. bright, a hat on top of a red coat, blonde twin tails broken up by specks of grass caught within them. the clover charm on klee’s hat caught the light, shining, and a warm pressure built up in his throat.

familiarity.

“klee.”

he can’t stop the way his voice almost cracks, strained with his journey (he’s alone) and the realization he’s been avoiding (maybe he was meant to be)

she lights up upon recognizing his voice, quickly rushing from the bush to latch herself onto his side. her arms wrap around him, and he tentatively sets one of his on her hat, unsure where to put it.

(her hair reminds him of rhinedottir’s, of the time she spent meticulously washing dust and debris from it after a long journey, of the blades of grass she flicked into the fire as she braided it away, tying it with a bright red ribbon alice had gifted her)

“klee’s so happy to see you! what are you doing here? where’s your mom? are you here to stay? oh, can i show you my new dodoco?”

albedo picked through her questions in his mind, deciding which would be safe ones to answer. “i’m here for your mother, alice. i’m… to deliver a letter to her.”

klee backed away, fitting her thumbs under her backpack straps. “klee can take you to her! i was going back to the city anyways.”

he glanced at the forest. “what were you doing there?”

her face suddenly flushed a bright pink, eyes flashing with what he assumed was embarrassment before she rushed forward, taking him by the hand and walking at a shockingly fast pace for somebody so young. “don’t worry about it!”

albedo had a feeling he should.

nonetheless, he followed, letting her lead up up to and across the bridge. it was empty, an eerie feeling settling over it as he walked. he wasn’t sure why; maybe it was the imposing height of the walls? maybe it was the guards in front of the gate, swords at their sides?

(suddenly, he was aware of the blade hanging at his side that rhinedottir had given him. had she known that would be the last time they met? or had she intended to teach him how to wield it?)

(he’s not sure which is more unbelievable)

the guard on the left brought his hand up in what albedo could only assume was some form of salute, in the process slightly blocking their path. “klee. who is with you?”

“this is albedo! he’s the son of a friend of mama’s, and klee’s friend too!”

the knight scanned him up and down, lingering slightly on his sword.

(would he have the heart to hand it over? would he feel better without a reminder of her, or worse that he’d give it up so easily?)

the guard eventually settled with a second salute, dipping slightly in a half-bow. “mondstat welcomes you, strange yet respectable traveler. please state your identity and purpose; the knight of favonius are here to ensure your safety.”

‘knights of favonius’… the name sounded familiar, but he couldn’t tell why. maybe from one of alice’s tales?

still, he dipped his own head in greeting, partially to stall. ‘identity’…

“i am albedo… disciple of rhinedottir in the study of alchemy. i am here to deliver a letter to alice, klee’s mother.”

klee looked up at him with a pout. “you’re not staying longer? what happened to all the things we were going to do?”

he didn’t remember ever committing to anything prior. “that isn’t my choice, klee. even if i wished to stay, i have nowhere to.”

the knight cleared his throat before the conversation could continue. “according to the knights of favonius handbook, we are to accompany travelers through the city as needed…”

“it’s okay mr. knight! klee knows her way around the city! i can take albedo to mama and then show him around.”

the knights were clearly uneasy about the prospect, likely because of klee’s age, but eventually nodded, moving back to their posts.

“mondstat welcomes you.”

klee quickly pulled him forward again, into the city, a quick ‘thank you!’ thrown over her shoulder that was likely lost in the sea of noise.

mondstat was loud. and full. more people than he’d ever seen in his entire life were gathered in just the simple courtyard she pulled him through, the calls of venders and the orders of customers melding together into an indecipherable mess. he was thankful she took him to the side, up a staircase, if only to get away from the massive crowds.

“mama is at a meeting with the knights right now, which is good! you can bring her your letter and get help from the knights at the same time,” klee explained, slowing down slightly from all the stairs. no wonder the walls were giant: so was the rest of the city.

he tugged her back, slowing to a stop. “klee, i don’t think i’ll need the help of the knights. if alice is in a meeting, then we shouldn’t bother her.”

“who said i was in a meeting?”

klee moved faster than he did, turning towards her mothers voice and running towards her, attaching to her side much in the same way she did to him. the thought pulled the corners of his lips into a smile.

“mama!”

alice laughed, catching her daughter easily. “hello, little clover.” she looked up, shock and recognition pooling in her eyes. “albedo? what are you doing here? is rhinedottir with you?”

his muscles tensed at the mention of her name, the memories of the past week of travel threatening to bubble up. he swallowed them down and hoped his voice wasn’t shaky, “no, but i’m to bring you a letter from her.”

alice’s eyes moved to his shoulders, to the large bag he’d been carrying. “are you staying here?”

“…i don’t know.”

her face twisted with something, and she turned her attention to klee before he could ask.

“clover, could you do me a favor?”

klee stepped back, “of course! what is it?”

“i need to read over albedo’s letter and sort some other things out, okay? while i do that, could you show him around the city? he’s never been here, and i’m sure he’d love for you to help him get his bearings.”

klee nodded, clearly excited, and alice walked around her to him. he pulled the letter from his pocket, but she reached for his bag instead. “let me take this.”

“that’s not necessary, i-“

“-have nowhere to go, albedo. i’ll hold your things while you walk with klee.”

something earnest and soft cradled her words, a care to the way she smiled at him when he caved and handed over his bag. he felt lighter without it.

before he could think about it further, alice was gone and klee had taken his hand in hers again, tugging on it.

“albedo? are you okay? you look upset.”

ah….

he tried for a smile. “i was just thinking about something. where do you want to go first?”

she studied him for a moment, squinting slightly, before apparently coming to a decision.

“we’ll go to the cathedral first. mama always says that if you ask the creator really nicely you’ll sometimes get help with whatever your problem is, and you look like you have a lot of problems!”

there it was again, that title…

she began to walk before he could say anything, taking him up let another flight of stairs. this one was longer, curving, and gave him time to figure out how to phrase what he wanted.

“klee?”

she turned, but didn’t so much as slow, “hm?”

“who’s the creator? you left before you could say last time.”

klee did stop this time, so abruptly he nearly ran into her.

“how do you not know? everybody knows.”

she spoke with a mix of confusion and… something akin to indignation, so strange coming from somebody so young that by the time he registered her words, she had pulled him along again, faster.

“everybody knows,” she mumbled to herself. “everybody. the grand master asks for guidance and captain kaeya for wisdom, mama prays for knowledge and klee asks for inspiration. how do you not know?”

he felt bad, somehow, even though it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t know. he knew that, he wasn’t a fool, it wasn’t his fault, it was…

(flashes of blonde hair flicker in his mind, the sharp command to ‘try again, and get it right this time’ echoing in his mind. already, it felt like a year ago he last saw her)

(could be truly blame her when his mistakes were his fault?)

klee leads him up to a large building—‘cathedral,’ he remembers—but takes him past the large doors, to the back. at the end, behind it all, was a small park-like space, large stones spaces equally across the space. the stones are carved with words, but she doesn’t let him get closer to read it.

she pointed, and he followed, jumping slightly at what he saw. against the back wall of the cathedral, seeming oddly at rest for being carved of stone, was a large statue. the pedestal it sat on was simple, but littered with offerings, the flowers looking fresh. if he had to guess, it was likely a shrine of sorts, probably to-

“that’s the creator.”

ah. he’d thought as much.

klee sat him down in front of the shrine, beginning to tell a story. it’s simple, one told to children, but it’s gets the message across to him.

the creator was to teyvat what rhinedottir was to him. divine hands shaped the mountains and plains, breathing life into the soil. the very purest form of creation, forming something- forming everything from nothing, the smallest of flowers and largest of trees planted with barely a thought. rivers cut through the earth at will, every blade of grass placed by the hand of the one that made it.

klee told a story of the birth of the universe, of the colors on an invisible pallet that painted the planets and dotted the sky with stars. she sat on stone and fiddled with her dodoco, her voice never wavering as she repeated everything she was told, graciously filling albedo in.

in return, albedo untied the sword at his side, laying it down in front of the shrine. the blade felt uncharacteristically heavy, his hands cold, but he still set it down gently.

it was a lot of information, but he managed, carefully filing everything away as the way he viewed the world slowly changed. it made sense; everything had to come from somewhere, after all.

he looked not at the sheath, but through it, at the inscription along the center. ‘as the creator forged, so too do i serve.’

perhaps he and the blade were more similar than he thought.

no bladesmith made a weapon without a purpose. no alchemist dedicated years to a project only to stop when they reached the final product. nothing was made without being tested, nothing was alive without being taught, no sword was made without an edge.

and yet, somebody had to teach the smith. somebody had to guide their hammer to the stool, their hands along a sharpening stone, trained them in the skills of polishing and oiling. no god created an art without a an artist, and no teacher let their pupil loose without granting them the skills to continue the craft.

no tool existed without intention. no smith existed without their mentor prior, nor without their own student to teach.

rhinedottir may have abandoned him, but his creator never would. they would not let him be set loose without purpose, nor discarded without reason. he could tell, simply by sitting in front of the marble statue, that this was the case.

he could feel it in the wind. in the gentle breeze they guided, sweeping his worth from his shoulders. in the ground beneath him, that never grew uncomfortable. he could sense the subtle presence of the creator, the way the grass seemed to point towards the pedestal of the statue or how the sun seemed a little less harsh back here making it evident. albedo could feel the creator’s intentions as his eyes moved back to the sword, to the reminder of rhine that bore a carved reminder of them, feel the reassurance in the etched words. amidst the sea of confusion surrounding rhinedottir’s disappearance, they had appeared, stretching a hand to pull him out and back ashore, to the banks of stability.

albedo reached back.

they felt warm.

#philosophical rambles + explanations in the tags btw #genshin #genshin impact #sagau #self aware genshin #genshin sagau #sagau impostor au #genshin self aware au #sagau albedo #albedo #genshin albedo #klee #sagau klee #this piece totals a bit over 10k. what does albedo do to me.#oh and to summarize the admittedly kinda shit metaphor: rhine saw albedo as a tool to be used; one she discarded after he served his purpose #sorry fellas :/ i know i tend to be vague but this…. is a whole other level #oh vindagnyr was the name of dragonspine before durin’s body fell on it btw. she’s bitter abt the name bc she saw durin as a failed project #OH and the feathers are bc naberius was described as a raven. sorry for all the explaining i’m doing—#(described as in the genshin wiki referenced wikipedias page on naberius that said raven)#the title is from albedos character story abt a lesson rhine taught him and represents how he understands the creator created him not rhine #< technically. but oh well i hate rhine anyway. at least in this specific fic #also in this rhines final assignment is never meant to be completed. she probably doesn’t think synthetic beings are capable of shit like #feelings or rational thought. her mind: chance of albedo finding meaning in life is <0. too bad for her because IM writing this. not her #PLOT TWIST RHINEDOTTIR I GET TO WRITE THE RULES AND I SAY ALBEDO IS AS HUMAN AS I AM #EAT ASS #I FUCKED UP THE TITLE FUCK

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