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rishiguro · 7 months

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HONOURABLE MAN - N. KENTO

warnings: set during jjk0. major character death. weapons. heavily implied past lovers. no happy ending (but are we even surprised). swearing. reader is on getou's side and believes in his cause. 4k words.

a/n: happy halloween! and thank you for sticking with me all though angstober, i hope you enjoy this last fic <3

angstober event

you clenched your jaw, fingers tightening around the weapon in your hands as you stared at the blonde man in front of you. “get out of my way,” the words came out pressed through your teeth.

nanami however didn’t move, instead lifting his chin as he stared right back at you, shaking his head slightly, just enough for you to notice. “no”

you pressed your lips together to a thin line, quickly looking over his shoulder before looking over yours, realizing that there was no one around you. “please,” you whispered, more to yourself than actually addressing him.

please get out of my way. i don’t want to hurt you.

“i can’t,“ he replied.

you however couldn’t concentrate on him, instead focusing on your surroundings, quickly scanning the surrounding alleyways, streets and even rooftops for sorcerers and curses, friends and foes alike.

was there somebody, anybody near you? somebody that could hear you, observe you, rat you out?

rat you out for talking to your enemy, for even just as much as hesitating to confront him, fight him and ultimately kill him.

rat you out for acting like a traitor.

lucky for you, you couldn’t detect anybody, barely managing to suppress a relieved sigh. yet when your eyes found nanami again, you analyzed his posture, taking in how his jaw was still clenched, his fingers right around his cleaver, staring you down with determined eyes behind his glasses.

yet he looked different from how he usually looked when facing curses, his breathing was deeper and you noticed how he swallowed repeatedly, like he had a lump in his throat.

for a moment you bit your lip, glancing at your weapon before restoring eye contact with the man in the suit. “i don’t want to do this,” you stated calmly, gripping your fingers tighter shortly, “please, just go”

he shut his eyes defeated. “i’m afraid you have to,” nanami retorted, raising his cleaver, shifting his stance. “i can’t let you go”

you let me go just fine the last time. you didn’t even attempt to follow me, make me stay.

‘you have to’, you wanted to whisper, ‘it wasn’t hard to let me go before, so why should it be any different now?’

but it seemed like you didn’t even have to say anything, as nanami immediately replied to you thoughts. “you’re dangerous, a threat,” he claimed, his free hand reaching up to loosen his tie a little, pulling at the knot.

you wanted to laugh at his claim.

a threat? you? why would you be? you hadn’t changed, your abilities hadn’t changed. and you weren’t ‘dangerous’ before. not to him. or to anybody else.

“now i am?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows, thinking back to your time at jujutsu high.

“your friends didn’t even look at me back at jujutsu high” “saying that i was weak. useless”

“you always had potential,” he stated, reminiscing the time when the two of you would brawl together at school, familiarizing yourselves with each other’s techniques and fighting patterns.

and while nanami might have never thought of you as weak, that didn’t stop him from dismissing your seniors and sometimes even your juniors poking fun at you, claiming that your place at jujutsu high was wasted, that there were more people around that deserved your place, effectively poisoning your mind with insecurities and doubts, until you grew to hate being around them.

“and they didn’t even have the guts to tell me directly what they thought,” you remembered, a part of you still hurting as you recounted the subtle jabs thrown your way. you scoffed, smiling. “can you imagine their faces now?”

“you always had it in you,” nanami repeated in a matter-of-factly tone.

“shut up,” you spat, shaking your head, trying to get his words out of your head.

potential.

“i wish you could’ve seen that sooner”

“i said shut the fuck up!” you demanded loudly, groaning in frustration. as if he had any idea how it has been for you. as if he knew how you had to live with the constant feeling of not being enough, of being a waste of space at jujutsu high, of always living in fear of failing and proving everybody right. “stop with this pseudo-motivational coach shit. you have no idea what you’re talking about”

“i do,” he stated. how could he still be so calm and collected? did he even understand you? did he even try to understand how this had gnawed at you during your entire time you were at jujutsu high, even after you graduated and went on missions, dutifully carrying out the orders you were given, no matter what? does he even understand how it had only stopped when you decided to leave?

when you decided to look out for yourself?

nanami took a step towards you, to which you immediately took one back. “i tried to tell you”

you clenched your jaw.

you knew he was right. he did try to make you feel at least reassured and confident in your abilities, instead of weak and helpless.

instead of what you were convinced you should feel like. instead of what you felt like every time you failed to save somebody, every time you lost a friend.

he however was unable to rescue you from this darkness, instead letting you be dragged deeper and deeper down into it, his hand never quite reaching yours to pull you out.

and you stayed there, surrounded by darkness until you found somebody else in the same pit. a familiar face that took your hand and found a way out, saving you.

and in this moment you decided to forever be grateful for it.

“you could have stayed, you know?” nanami proposed, again taking a step towards you. this time hoever, you didn’t move, only looking at him, carefully analyzing every move, fingers itching around the hilt of your weapon. he gave you a small, almost hopeful smile. “you could come back”

hopeful, like everything would be okay again. like everything that had happened would be forgotten.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

why would you come back? “don’t be ridiculous”

he took another step towards you. “i’m not”

you shook your head, turning your face away from him. “i don’t want to,” you pressed though clenched teeth. how could he even suggest this? “i despise your jujutsu society, the elders, the school,” you listed before looking back at him, clenching your jaw, before continuing. “i despise you”

the blonde man smiled sadly, shaking his head softly. “you don’t”

“you stand for everything i hate,” you reasoned, trying to sound as objective and emotionless as possible, “you’re a slave, kento” you took a step closer to him, the tip of your blade slightly touching his chest. nanami immediately pushed it to the side to which you drew it back to yourself. “a slave, protecting people that won’t even take a glance at you” you looked around, noticing that every building around you was practically empty, the streets abandoned. “people that are too ignorant to even care that you risk your life for them. they’re weak. pathetic,” you spat out, not being able to stop your face from contorting in disgust. you pointed at him. “and you know that”

“they’re worth being protected,” nanami claimed simply, “they need to be. it’s our job, our calling. protect the ones that can’t protect themselves. you used to believe in that too” he smiled sadly at you.

he was right. you used to believe it. but things had changed.

you changed.

you breathed out, almost wanting to start laughing hysterically. “why should i? why should we risk our lives every day and not even get a fucking thank you?” you ranted loudly, vividly gesturing around you.

this wasn’t fair.

“why should we give our lives for them when they never learn, never change? why do we have to see our friends, our comrades die every day and still protect the ones that kill them?” you continued, feeling your heart ache as you thought all the friends you had to bury.

even your best friend.

your opponent grew agitated and visibly shaky, clenching his jaw. “because it’s the right thing to do,” he spat out loudly.

“how honourable of you, kento” you scoffed, shaking your head as you brought your free arm out, like you inviting people to join in and look at him, listen to him, just to mock him. “look at you, the righteous man, protecting the helpless”

“it’s what i do. that’s what we do,” he pressed out, a lonely vein protruding on his neck. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy this, questioning his world view, poking fun at him and his beliefs.

even if he would never be by your side again.

“we die, that’s what we do! every day more and more of us die because of some scum that’s way too arrogant to control themselves and their emotions,” you yelled out in frustration, feeling your own throat get dry in the process. “how can you still fight for them when they take away everyone we care about?”

tears welled up in your eyes and at the moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care, your hand instead grabbing your top, fisting the fabric in front of your chest. “how can you stand in front of me, telling me what’s right when they killed yu?” your voice broke, tears falling down your cheeks in little rivers. “they killed him and you act like it’s normal!”

“don’t you dare bring him up” nanami sounded appalled, angry even, like he was convinced that you had no right to even mention his former best friend’s name.

did he really forget that he used to be your best friend too?

“open your eyes, kento!” you demanded loudly.

his words were stuck in his throat as he remembered the day his friend left him – dying right in front of him. “yu died because i couldn’t protect him!”

how could he still be so blind? how could he shoulder all the blame of him dying when the only reason he did were human-made curses?

and how could he just spit on his memory, still fighting for non-sorcerers?

“yu died because of them! he was so bright. always so fucking cheerful and i never understood that. and now he’s gone” you forced yourself to take a breath, trying to calm your racing heart and tremblings hands. “we will never see him again because of them! how dare you protect the ones that took him away from us?”

“we knew what we were getting ourselves into, so why are you acting so surprised? sorcerers die daily. but so do regular people. and countless more would die if we weren’t here to protect them”

was he serious?

how dare he? how could he?

“it’s about doing what’s right, not about what we want,” nanami finished, his teary voice from just a moment ago nowhere to be found, instead sounding disconnected and apathetic.

like he never even cared in the first place.

you scoffed before letting out a shocked laugh, throwing your hands up, slightly pulling at your hair with your free hand. “how can letting your friends die be right? do you even hear yourself?”

he raised his voice again, shaking his head in disappointment. “how can you stand against your friends? against the people you claimed you loved?” nanami’s voice broke as he said that, pressing the words out between his teeth.

love.you loved him. so how could you turn your back on him?

he swallowed thickly, his voice still cracking as he spoke. “how is that any better? how are you not betraying yourself? or everybody else? how can you only think about yourself?”

“who else will think about me?” you yelled, your hand pointing at your own chest.

“i did!” nanami screamed back, his voice cracking slightly. in heat he raised his cleaver again, pointing it at you as he yelled. shortly after he sighed, shaking his own head before speaking again, this time noticeably quieter, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “i always did”

you vaguely pointed at him and the weapons in his hand, shrugging. “and yet you stand here now” your voice got quieter, softer. “don’t act so high and mighty”

“you left! i haven’t turned my back on the jujutsu society ever since i realized what it meant to be a sorcerer. you did” he pointed at you, fingers trembling as he spoke, practically spitting the words at you. “you’re selfish”

“and you’re an idiot,” you shot back harshly, spitting right back at him. “they will never care about you. you’re nothing more than an asset to them. it doesn’t matter how much of a loyal dog you are to them, they don’t care about you licking their boots, they will kick you, kill you, just like they always do” you stopped for a moment, sighing to yourself.

why was he so blind? why didn’t he even care enough to see?

“you’re nothing special. to them, you’re nothing” you clenched your jaw, hesitating for a second before continuing, voice cold and almost sounding apathetic. “you will die as nothing”

nanami paused for a few moments, eyes darting down to the cleaver, following it’s direction back to your chest. “when i die, i will die for what i believe in,” he spoke calmly and confidently, his eyes wandering up to face yours again. “i will die peacefully, knowing that i did what i could to protect others” he scanned your form, nodding at you. “not for my own selfish reasons”

you raised your eyebrows. “are you calling me selfish?” nanami simply shrugged. “you’re only looking after yourself, not caring about others. that’s the definition of being selfish,” he pointed out.

so now you were selfish?

because what– because you didn’t want to die for people that would never appreciate you? because you weren’t willing to be just another body in an unmarked grave?

you scoffed. “i look out for myself because no one else would!”

“i always looked out for you”

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh, your gaze pointing to his cleaver still pointed at you. “i didn’t know that threatening me with your weapon counts as looking out for me” his fingers gripped it tighter, his knuckles turning white. a small smile appeared on your face as you noticed it, feeling affirmed in your suspicion. “you gave me no other choice”

“you always have a choice! and you chose to stand here and you chose to fight me” you swallowed, hoping to get rid of the lump in your throat and blinked a couple of times, hoping to calm yourself down.

why were you getting so emotional?

“you chose to betray me”

nanami scoffed, a small but mocking smile appeared on his lips. he leaned back, staring up at the sly before turning his attention back to you. “i never betrayed anyone. you left. you turned your back on us”

so you betrayed him?

you betrayed him when everything you were doing was for a better world for all of you, even for him?

you betrayed him when you were fighting for a world where he didn’t have to die? for a world where his death wouldn’t be meaningless?

you betrayed him when you were fighting for all of you to be more than just mindless soldiers?

“because i see how unfair this is. because i see how we all die for nothing! yu died for nothing!”

“he died for us!” nanami yelled out, his voice sounding strained.

“he died for a world that would never change! that’s why we have to force it to change!” you shouted back immediately, pointing your blade at him.

nanami sighed before flexing and relaxing the fingers on his free hand. “mass murder isn’t change” a sad smile appeared on your face. “it’s better than not doing anything,” you claimed.

better than just stand on the sidelines as everybody you cared about died for a lost cause.

“now get out of my way,” you demanded, head pointing in a random direction.

go away. live your life. do what yu wanted you to do. do what we always wanted to do.

much to your dismay, he shook his head, speaking with a firm voice. “no”

“kento, leave,” you begged him one last time, raising your weapon and preparing yourself to charge at him, willing to attack him since it seemed like you truly had no other choice. “you can’t stop us”

“maybe not all of you” he took a deep breath, assuming a fighting stance as he sharpened his eyes, carefully examining every move you made. “but i can stop you”

what followed was a brutal match between the two of you, ruthlessly attacking each other with your weapons and cursed energy alike, desperate to knock the other one down.

you barely had any time to breath as you returned the blonde man’s slashes, pushing him back a few meters only to be forced back by him immediately after. during the entire fight the two of you were silent, too occupied to defend yourselves against the other to even try to taunt your opponent.

from an outside perspective it almost looked like you were dancing with each other, deeply familiar with the other’s movements and strategies. no matter which one of you decided to attack, most of the time the efforts were fruitless, either being blocked by a weapon like it was only waiting to clash with the other one or simply slashing through the air, like you hadn’t been there in the first place.

you were too familiar with each other, so you knew that your fight was nothing more than a stamina match – whoever slowed down first would lose. whoever would lose focus for the smallest fraction of a second would lose.

a few years back this match could’ve ended either way. nanami and you typically teamed up, your strengths and weaknesses balancing each other out and your skill level being about the same.

but things have changed.

when you left, you lost your strongest training partner, you lost the person that pointed out your mistakes when you lost a brawl, you lost the one person that always strived you to be better. you would think that the same thing applied to him too.

yet it didn’t. you could tell that he became stronger, more agile, more durable when you noticed how he didn’t even flinch at the injuries he retained, instead retaliating with twice the force behind his strikes, almost taunting you with how he seemed to disappear from your field of vision, only to appear behind you to injure you even further, until it was clear that he would emerge victorious as he managed to bring you down with one final strike, your weak body falling onto the hard concrete, knocking the air out of your lungs.

“go ahead,” you breathed out, staring up at nanami as he towered over you. he looked down, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly while he tried to catch his breath. “finish it,” you demanded weakly.

“do you have any last words?” he asked stoically, clenching his cleaver.

you couldn’t help but laugh out, only to cough immediately after, face constricting in pain.

last words? you didn’t need such thing.

not from him.

“i die for my cause,” you claimed weakly, forcing your eyes to keep focused on the blonde man, “i don’t need any pity from a traitor”

he shook his head slightly. “i don’t pity you. you chose this path,” he stated coldly, pausing for a moment. nanami seemed to think about something, furrowing his eyebrows slightly, just like he always did whenever something was bothering him. he sighed, mumbling something to himself before he crouched down beside you. a faint, pained smile appeared on his face. “i’m not asking as a sorcerer, i’m asking as a friend. as someone who loved you”

“love? would you really kill someone you loved?” you huffed, feeling your own heart crack at his words.

love.

nanami swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly, like he was trying to get rid of tears welling up in his eyes. his voice cracked. “if i had to”

it was over.

you lost. you failed.

you clenched your eyes shut in pain, groaning weakly. you couldn’t escape from this anymore. you couldn’t escape from the pain in your entire body, you couldn’t escape from your imminent death and probably the worst of all, you couldn’t escape from him.

but a part of you didn’t want to, instead finding comfort in the fact that he’s right here at your side as you were drawing your last few breaths.

who else would be more comforting than the person that you loved?

yet your heart broke when you realized how this wouldn’t change anything for him. he would move on, live his life, be sent on one deadly mission after the next before he would die during one of them.

you didn’t want him to die.

you had dreamed of a long life with nanami by your side, where the two of you would leave the jujutsu world just like he had done before, grow old together and simply be happy together.

but you couldn’t anymore.

and while you knew that it was too late, that nothing you would say could ever convince him, you still had to try.

because wherever you’d be going after this, if there even was anything, you didn’t want him to join you soon.

“you will never be free,” you breathed out, “you will always be bound by jujutsu society”

you knew your efforts would be fruitless.

he defeated you. he won. he wouldn’t listen to you, he had no reason to.

and yet you couldn’t deny how your heart ached when you thought about him returning, living the same life he did before, the same life you chose to leave behind, the life he left behind before.

your heart ached because you knew his path could only end in death. and nobody would bat an eye, he would be one fallen sorcerer among all the others, his name soon to be forgotten by everybody else.

and you didn’t want that for him.

“nothing more than a soldier carrying out orders. never your own person”

nanami sighed, like you had this conversation a million times before, like you weren’t currently laying on the floor, clinging on to the rest of your life force and almost pathetically trying to make him see your side, trying to get him to change his mind.

like it would change anything now.

and while you knew it wouldn’t change anything for you anymore, while it was too late to change your fate, you knew he could still change his.

you hoped he would change his.

he could still live a long and happy life, free of curses and sorcerers alike. he could just be a normal person, like so many others, living his life and not worry about anything else.

“i chose this life”

you shook your head. “other people chose for you,” you whispered, turning your head, trying to stop him from seeing the few stray tears in your eyes. “and apparently it makes us villains for choosing for ourselves”

you felt a warm hand engulf yours, giving it a comforting squeeze.

nanami knew just as well as you did that you didn’t have for much longer, that soon you’d leave.

he won and you lost.

you failed.

and yet you didn’t want to leave him. you wanted to stay with him, live with him.

but you failed.

“you know, we could’ve run away together. leave everything behind,” you smiled weakly at him, squeezing his hand with the last strength you had left in your body. “no sorcerers, no school, no elders”

he nodded, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand, lips lingering on your skin. “we could have. but it’s too late”

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georgeweasleyslostearhq · 8 months

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BUTTERFLIES

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!reader Summary: George gets flashbacks of your relationship as he watches you walk down the aisle to marry him Warnings: mention of tears, i think that's it

George's eyes met yours as he stood at the end of the aisle, waiting there for you to reach him as you walked to the music

the butterflies made their appearance in his stomach as he stared at you with pure love and longing

he had waited years for this, and it was finally happening

George couldn't help but remember all the times the butterflies invaded him stomach throughout knowing you before this moment

"Fred! George! hurry up, we're late!" Molly yelled at the twins

"we're right behind you mum, and the train doesn't leave for another 3 minutes!" Fred spoke in defense, trailing after Molly.

Molly rushed all of her kids through the wall of the train station.

Fred and George ran through it for the first time with their trolleys, which held their luggage for their first year at Hogwarts

George went through the wall and came out on the other side, slightly losing control of his trolley and bumping into somebody, making them fall

George panicked as he heard them wince in pain

he let go of his trolley and looked down at you on the ground

"I'm really sorry" he apologised, holding his hand out to help you

"it's fine" you huffed, taking the boys hand

"I'm Y/n" you introduced yourself

George felt a flutter inside his heart when you smiled at him sweetly

"George, are you alright?" he asked after telling you his name

"I'll be just fine"

"we're so going to make the team, Georgie" Fred smiled as a large group of Gryffindors huddled up for tryouts for Quidditch

"we'll be the best beaters on the team" Fred smirked

Oliver wood started talking about the rules and taking down what positions people wanted to play

"Y/L/N, what are you trying out for?" Wood called, seeing you in amongst the people

"Chaser" you replied

George turned around to see you with the newest broomstick in your hands, standing with Angelina Johnson

"you play quidditch?" George questioned as you caught his stare

"yeah, i do. is that a problem?" you frowned, teasing him

"n- no" he stuttered, feeling the nervous butterflies rise up in his stomach as you glared at him

"i'm just surprised, you didn't strike me as a quidditch type of girl" he went on

"I bet I'm better than you" you laughed, looking him up and down

George only blinked nervously

Fred and George rushed through hogsmeade to finally get to the store they've heard all about from their brothers

the twins excitedly walked through the door of Zonko's to look at all the things they dream they could have

George explored the shop, going in a completely different direction from his older twin to find you looking hiccough sweets

"never thought i'd see you in here" George spoke up with a smile

you turned to him and rolled your eyes with a grin

"what can I say, i like the common sweet prank" you grabbed a few and walked closer to him

"although i know you and Fred are the kings of pranks here so, any suggestions on what's good? I need teach a douchebag a lesson for burning my homework" you smirked

George raised his eyebrows "Tristen?" he asked

you nodded your head in reply

"I've always been interesting in tricking somebody but never really acted upon it, this just gives me a reason" you shrugged mischievously

George's 13 year old heart pumped faster in his chest as the butterflies swarmed in his stomach

you couldn't've gotten any better

"well...you could always try some dungbombs, they always do the trick or..."

he went on to have a ramble for about 10 minutes that day, telling you the best way to get Tristen back, and even offered to do it with you

George sat on the couch, head in his hands as he thought about Ginny, worrying about her

you had walked in after a long study session for potions when you found him in the common room, looking stressed

"you ok there, George?" you wondered, not knowing what to do

"I'm fine, don't worry" he sighed

Fred had gone to bed, also worrying while George decided to stay up a bit longer

you had heard about what happened to his sister, so you knew he wasn't entirely 'fine'

so you stayed with him, you slowly walked up to the couch and sat next to him

"I'm really sorry about your sister...it'll be ok though, I'm sure she can handle whatever's happening" you started, hoping it would help, even it was a lie. you didn't know it would be ok

George sat frozen, if it were anyone else next to him, he probably wouldn't yelled at them, saying that they had no idea. but he knew you were trying to help

"she'll be ok, George" you placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a sad smile even though he wasn't looking at you

"she's lucky to have a brother like you...caring as much as you are" you sighed

that made George finally look up at you

you moved your hand from his shoulder to around his torso, giving him a comforting hug

the way your hands wrapped around him made the butterflies make another appearance, George had been used to them by now, he welcomed them in with a smile as he hugged you back

George had grown closer to you, becoming good- if not best friends

you would help with his school work and with his and Fred's pranks

the one problem was that you had a boyfriend that year, but not for long

you came rushing through the common room, tears in your eyes as you ran for the dorms

"hey, Y/n, what's wrong!?" George came to your aid as soon as he saw you

he got up from the couch and pulled you into his arms before you got to the stairs

you cried in his arms "he cheated on me" you murmured

your words made George's blood boil, He never liked that guy, and deep down he knew he would do something to hurt you

he brought you over to the couch and made you tell him what fully happened

"why do the nice ones always turn out to be the assholes?" you wept

"well if they're assholes then they were never the good ones, the good ones are the good ones and the assholes are the assholes" George shrugged, he didn't know what to say

he had never been in a relationship before, mostly because of the way you had always made him feel

"well why can't they all be like you? you're good, great" you sobbed

George cleared his throat, caught off guard by your statement

he let the butterflies fill his stomach as you cried into his chest, telling him how he would be a good boyfriend

George stood beside you as the professor told the class about the potion

you, along with many other girls took a step closer, entranced by the smell of the potion.

Amortentia.

George laughed at you when you smiled lazily, your eyes almost almost having pink hearts in them as you breathed the scnet in

what George hadn't expected was to get the very strong scent of you as he finally breathed through his nose

George took a step beck and cleared his throat, looking at you in the corner of his eye as he let the smell fill his nose

the butterflies rose to his stomach and made him feel faint, feeling overwhelmed

you had noticed his faint figure beside you and leaned closer to him

"you alright Georgie?" you whispered

"I'll be just fine, Love"

George wandered the halls, trying to find you, to ask you to the Yule Ball, after smelling you in the Amortentia last week, he realised that he needs to ask you out

the feeling he gets when he's around you is too good to lose

he heard your voice behind him and turned around

"george! there you are!" you beamed

"hey! I've been looking for you" he asked, meeting you in the middle of the hallway

"me too, I need to ask you something" you said

"oh, you go first" George spoke quickly, really wanting to ask you, or he'll start to overthink and chicken out

"do you have something to tell me too?" she wondered

"yeah but you go first" George smiled

"well I was just thinking...Justin Thornhill asked me to the ball at breakfast this morning, I don't know why I told you that- right, um. well I said no, obviously. b- because I want to go with you. do you want to go to the ball with me?" you rambled, getting to the question that has been on your tongue for a week

George's eyes went wide and the butterflies piled into his stomach as soon as the question came from your mouth.

you had said what he'd been dying to say

George's heart pumped inside his chest rapidly, he almost thought you could hear it

"yes, t- that's what I was going to ask you!" George grinned happily

it was safe to say the butterflies never left after that, every time he'd see you after that, they would pop in and say hello

the whole night of the ball they stayed there

George fiddled with his fingers as he told you his plan on leaving with Fred early to start the shop

you had been dating since the day after the yule ball and he was nervous you wouldn't support it, just like his mum

"that's..great! I'm really proud of you, I know you'll do great" you said, kissing his cheek

"really?" he raised his eyebrows

"of course...the shop will be amazing, I just know it" you nodded, full heartedly supporting him

you had no idea how much that meant for him to hear, that you thought he'd do good, that you supported him

it made the butterflies flutter in his stomach, knowing that you approved of what he's doing

George felt the tears coming when you finally reached him, taking his hand and smiling up at him, happy that you would be marrying him

and all these years, he still gets butterflies when you look at him

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#george weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x fem #oliver phelps #x fem!reader #oneshot #fluff #cute #imagines #harry potter universe

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liyuee-qixing · 6 months

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"In fact; I'm fucking terrified."

Scenarios: Characters with GN! MC freezing as a trauma response.

Characters:Satan, Leviathan

C.W/T.W: Trauma, implied abuse, implied abandonment issues. might be ooc

DISCLAIMER!!:i DO NOT romanticize depression,trauma,or any mental health in any ways,as I suffer from it too for the past year. This fic was made with no intentions to insult any person or community.

Author Note:my head is so dizzy I'm might pass out

Satan

Gehenna,a country with more violence tendencies than the other,a cruel country with it's people fist made of iron. Not to mention the nation streets were filled with Angels and bodies decay,the smell of old blood fill in your lungs in just any seconds you step in the alleys and streets.

You should've used to it by now,you better be used to it. But you didn't,when Satan or Sitri killed an angel right Infront of you, usually you shut your eyes tight,but this time.. it was different.

The angel blood splattered right Infront your eyes,the gory scene you were forced to see is enough to make you feel like puking,just enough for the past experiences to play back in your mind.

You cannot hear Satan or Sitri words,hells,or shout,you freeze there,the now broken,gory description of the angel body were right Infront of you,the smell hit your nostrils,inhaling,exhaling,your eyes started watering.

"maybe if I was a better child.."your trains of thought were quickly read by Satan,he immediately know that your actions was a trauma response.

He jumped Infront of you,taking your hand in his,as he wipe your tears away,not with panic.

"look, we're in this together, it's all will be alright"

He made sure from the day on, you'll never feel something such as bad to yourself,to never remember the shady blood tainted past of your,to forgot an old scars.

"how are you?" "I believe you" "take it slow" sweet affirmation pouring from his mouth just ensure your comfort,his hand finding your hair to stroke in a meanwhile.

Leviathan

You've heard worse; useless,ugly, undeserving,was nothing new to you, it's a daily things you receive everyday on your plate,you always gulp them down without fighting back, without any words, without telling anybody; because you have no one. Your body slowly reduced into a jar of unstable emotions with passing days.

Why are you surprised when Leviathan words were stabbed into you at right that moment,you thought you were used to it by now? Did you seriously thought Leviathan is going to protect you,just as he said? How dumb,in the end you'll have no one,again,nobody,your breath hitched as more of his insult fell down from his serpent tongue

You? The descendants of Solomon? The oh so great king of kings? Crying because you thought somebody is truly your friend and now insult are seeping through his mouth? How immature,you reflect no great ruler of all kings,your eyes twitching trying to suppress your tears

Say something,but your lips quiver and tongue back away, desperation is eating you alive,the results of not having any friends and being bullied come rushing stabbing at your heart,that sure to bleeds, without realizing, you're already crying Infront of the great leviathan,silently, without any sounds,you just stood there,in middle of the room,hands reaching out for him,but not moving.

You wanted to scream,yell,beg for him to not leave you,the look of concerning did not fit his handsome face,his insults stopped for a seconds,as he stare at you blankly,you wanted nothing more than to scratch your skin,tear it apart and disappear,you want nothing more than to not feel the way you feel right now.

"I need to do better for you"

Levi might not know how to immediately deal with you suddenly freezing,he'll let one of the nobles deal with it having to put his envy down for a moment just for your own sake

Though it seem dumb and childish for him,he tries to ensure that he is your friend from your point of view,he tries to not insults or say things that he doesn't mean or know wouldn't end good,doesn't mean you can have another friend though

"ermmememrmrm this is ooc as shit" how do you feel if I shove 60 tennis balls down your throat>_<

#whb #whb fanfiction #whb fanfic #whb headcanons #whb angst #whb comfort #liyuee qixing is suck at writing #arashinen-works

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hollowed-theory-hall · 3 months

Text

The Riddle of Tom Riddle: Part 4/7

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, part 5, part 6, Part 7)

Home Sweet Hogwarts

Continuing with Tom's life at Hogwarts. He learns magic, makes Horcruxes, and is still as lonely as in the orphanage but probably isn't yet as evil as Dumbledore likes to make him out to be.

This is the post where I finally explain why Tom would ask Slughorn how to make a Horcrux after he already made 2 of them.

This turned out a little longer than I was expecting, but... 🤷‍♀️

Slytherin's Legacy and the Chamber of Secrets

We know Tom opened the Chamber of Secrets and we know Myrtle Warren died. But I want to ask why he opened the chamber? I mean, if he really wanted to kill muggleborns, I'd expect someone competent and intelligent like him to kill more than one.

“To ask you how you died,” said Harry. Myrtle’s whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question. “Ooooh, it was dreadful,” she said with relish. “It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then —” Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. “I died.” “How?” said Harry. “No idea,” said Myrtle in hushed tones. “I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away. . . .”

(Chamber of Secrets, pages 276-277)

Myrtle graciously describes her death for us. And all in all, this doesn't sound planned. Far from it. She was crying in a locked stall and went out becouse she heard a boy and wanted to tell him to leave. She saw the eyes of the basilisk the moment she left the stall.

I'd hardly call this well planned or intended. And the fact Tom doesn't kill anyone else supports this even more.

“Sit down,” said Dippet. “I’ve just been reading the letter you sent me.” “Oh,” said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly. “My dear boy,” said Dippet kindly, “I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?” “No,” said Riddle at once. “I’d much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that — to that —” “You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?” said Dippet curiously. “Yes, sir,” said Riddle, reddening slightly. “You are Muggle-born?” “Half-blood, sir,” said Riddle. “Muggle father, witch mother.” “And are both your parents — ?” “My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me — Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather.” Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically. “The thing is, Tom,” he sighed, “special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances. . . .” “You mean all these attacks, sir?” said Riddle, and Harry’s heart leapt, and he moved closer, scared of missing anything. “Precisely,” said the headmaster. “My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy . . . the death of that poor little girl. . . . You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the — er — source of all this unpleasantness. . . .”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 227)

This isn't exactly regarding Slytherin's legacy, but I found it important nonetheless for Tom's character. Tom really hates the orphanage. And for good reason, not just what I mentioned in the previous post, but WW2 started by this point.

For context, Tom opened the chamber in his fifth year, which was in 1942. 1942 was at the height of World War II. In the past two summers (1940 and 1941) Tom was in London during the Blitz. He was there in the rubble and the bomb shelters and he is quite rightfully pissed that Dippet calls that being "safe".

It's not exactly related but Dippet even asked if he was muggleborn, to tell if the monster of the chamber would go after him. Which I find curious. It is relevant for something I mention later in this post, but it generally means most of everyone assumed him to be muggleborn during his school years and treated him as such.

The point is, Tom is unsafe in the orphanage, we're now it not only ridicule and loneliness that awaited him, but starvation, death, and air raids. This helplessness against death he faced in the two years leading up to his first Horcrux was probably the final push for him to try and search for a way to be immortal.

Becouse all his magic does no good against the bombs.

“It was my word against Hagrid’s, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student . . . on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls . . . but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn’t possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance . . . as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power! “Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed. . . . Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did. . . .”

(Chamber of Secrets, page 288)

Here I mostly want to note 2 main things.

The first, Tom mentions how the teachers saw him. Remember the act of politeness I mentioned in my previous post, this is it. Tom became so comfortable in his mask thanks to Dumbledore's lack of empathy. Brilliant, perfect, and polite.

The second is that he mentioned he searched for the Chamber for five years. As this is his fifth year, it means he searched for it during all his Hogwarts years. It means that eleven-year-old, young Tom Riddle discovered his parseltongue is related to Salazar Slytherin and he became obsessed with finding more of its legacy.

And, it's easy to see why. He knew nothing about his family besides his own name, he, like any orphan, was curious. And when he realizes how important his family, and by extension he, is he becomes obsessed with learning more.

He searched for the Chamber of Secrets not just to gain power or to kill muggleborns, he just wanted to know about his family. To feel part of a legacy. He also wanted power, he likes being powerful and being able to defend himself from those who scorn him. But even when he had the power — he didn't use it to kill anyone. Only by accident. And once the accident happened, he made use of it.

We'll keep seeing this crop up in Tom's life. He wants to be special and important. He wants to be treated like he's better, becouse that's what he always told himself. Him being special validates all the hate he got growing up and his beliefs that jealousy motivated it.

The other thing we're seeing crop up here and later is Tom's sentimentality. Dumbledore may say Tom lacks the capacity for love, but I think Dumbledore is bullshit. Tom is an incredibly sentimental person (he even calls himself out on it in GOF). There's a reason he chose the Founders Artifacts as his Horcruxrs, there's a reason he hid them all in Britain even when they could have been safer abroad — he's incredibly sentimental.

He loves Hogwarts. He loved that first place that ever felt like a home to him so much that he placed pieces of his soul in artifacts related to it, even if simpler items like a coin would've been safer and easier to hide.

Now, to further proof, it's never been about muggleborns for Tom:

“Haven’t I already told you,” said Riddle quietly, “that killing Mudbloods doesn’t matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been — you.” Harry stared at him

(Chamber of Secrets, page 289)

The final note from this section is about the diary Horcrux less than about Tom. But this is important because we see Tom follow that same behavior pattern later in during the second Wizarding War.

Harry tells Tom he failed to kill any muggleborns and Tom agrees with him. During the second book, the diary didn't care about muggleborns, the same as the real Voldemort, he only cared about killing Harry.

Throughout the series Voldemort is obsessed with killing Harry Potter. Less becouse of who he is and more what he represents.

Becouse young Tom searched for validation and found it in academics at Hogwarts. The teachers loved brilliant prefect Tom Riddle, so he put all his effort into that. Into being the perfect model student.

This perfectionism is seen in his obsession with Harry, too. Diary Tom is interested in Harry because he failed to kill him. Harry is his one failure on his perfect record — and that is why he must die. To rectify his failing.

I'll expand on this more in the future, but the fact this obsession with correcting his failiur named Harry Potter is true for both Voldemort and Diary Tom just strengthens this point.

Horcruxes and Immortality

Moving ahead in Tom's life, I want to talk about Horcruxes again. Honestly, I'll probably keep coming back to this becouse it's a big part of Tom's character. Specifically, I want to talk about Slughorn's conversation with Tom about them.

Half a dozen boys were sitting around Slughorn, all on harder or lower seats than his, and all in their mid-teens. Harry recognized Voldemort at once. His was the most handsome face and he looked the most relaxed of all the boys. His right hand lay negligently upon the arm of his chair; with a jolt, Harry saw that he was wearing Marvolo’s goldand-black ring; he had already killed his father. “Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?” he asked. “Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn’t tell you,” said Slughorn, wagging a reproving, sugar-covered finger at Riddle, though ruining the effect slightly by winking. “I must say, I’d like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are.” Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

(Half-Blood Prince, page 369)

You know what's weird about this conversation? That a lot of fans speak of it as if that's when Tom learned how to make Horcruxes when in fact, Harry notices the Gaunt family ring and comes to the currect conclusion — Tom already killed his father.

It means this talk with Slughorn happened after Tom already made 2 Horcruxes. It means he knows how to make one and knows it's possible to make more than one. So why ask?

Why potentially implement himself in dangerous illegal magic? Why hint he might be a murderer? Why risk it all for something he already knows?

Well, let's look at that conversation:

“Sir, I wondered what you know about . . . about Horcruxes?” Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers absentmindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass. “Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?” But Harry could tell that Slughorn knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork. “Not exactly, sir,” said Riddle. “I came across the term while reading and I didn’t fully understand it.” “No . . . well . . . you’d be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that’ll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that’s very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed,” said Slughorn. “But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can’t tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could — so I just thought I’d ask —” It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. He, Harry, had had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognize a master at work. He could tell that Riddle wanted the information very, very much; perhaps had been working toward this moment for weeks. “Well,” said Slughorn, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystalized pineapple, “well, it can’t hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul.” “I don’t quite understand how that works, though, sir,” said Riddle. His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his excitement.

...

“. . . few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable.” But Riddle’s hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing. “How do you split your soul?” “Well,” said Slughorn uncomfortably, “you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature.” “But how do you do it?” “By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion —” “Encase? But how — ?” “There is a spell, do not ask me, I don’t know!” said Slughorn, shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. “Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?” “No, sir, of course not,” said Riddle quickly. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to offend . . .”

...

“Yes, sir,” said Riddle. “What I don’t understand, though — just out of curiosity — I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn’t it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn’t seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn’t seven — ?” “Merlin’s beard, Tom!” yelped Slughorn. “Seven! Isn’t it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case . . . bad enough to divide the soul . . . but to rip it into seven pieces . . .” Slughorn looked deeply troubled now: He was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all. “Of course,” he muttered, “this is all hypothetical, what we’re discussing, isn’t it? All academic . . .” “Yes, sir, of course,” said Riddle quickly.

(Half-Blood Prince, pages 496-499)

So, let's recap this conversation:

Tom asks about Horcruxes and gets excited when Slughorn seems to know about them, the moment Slughorn starts speaking of how vile and evil Horcruxes are though, Tom changes his demeanor, more apologetic, hesitant, and polite. The mask is back. Tom continued and prodded a bit further, but not with the same hunger and excitement as before.

So, what does that tell us? Why is Tom having this conversation? What does he stand to gain? Not new information obviously...

In my former post, I mentioned Tom is looking for connections as he never really had any.

He's excited at the possibility of talking about magic he is interested in with someone, specifically — a teacher. Tom, who was scorned all his life in the Orphanage gets to Hogwarts and the teachers love him because he's polite and brilliant. And he loves all that positive attention. He boasts about it to Harry in the Chamber in an earlier quote I mentioned.

This is him seeking that attention and validation again, from Slughin, a person who praised his magical academic accomplishments often before. Tom is trying to open up and connect with Slughorn over another magical accomplishment.

But Slughorn shuts him down, and so he retreats from the conversation. Making it seem like he doesn't know how Horcruxes are made so as to not raise suspicions after he saw Slughorn didn't really know much about Horcruxes.

This scene isn't a future Dark Lord trying to learn how to become immortal — this is a sixteen-year-old boy, who was only ever recognized for academic magical accomplishment trying to gain praise for figuring out the impossible — how to become immortal. That's what he built up to, he mentioned the number so he could tell Slughorn how he figured out you could make more, how he went farther in magic than anyone else.

On the same note...

Tom doesn't really mention friends often, and I want to talk about that a bit about why he is so desperate for connection.

Think about it, he came poor, an orphan, and seemingly a muggleborn into Slytherin, the house of blood purism, during the height of Grindelwald's blood purity war against muggles. I can imagine the first few years until he proved he was the heir of Slytherin and incredibly magically powerful were not pleasant to him, and that's an understatement.

So afterward, when he does interact positively with his housemates, yes, he calls them friends, but it isn't friendship.

It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course

(Chamber of Secrets, page 290)

“Listen to me, reliving family history . . .” he said quietly, “why, I am growing quite sentimental. . . . But look, Harry! My true family returns. . . .”

(Goblet of Fire, page 646)

“My friends,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “will carry on without me, I am sure.” “I am glad to hear that you consider them friends,” said Dumbledore. “I was under the impression that they are more in the order of servants.”

(Half-Blood Prince, page 444)

He refers to his followers as friends and family repeatedly, even after graduating from Hogwarts. Now, I don't think Tom actually considers them real friends or family, but he never really had either, not in any deep sense.

I'll delve more in a later post about how he does feel affection and does have some bounds he cares more for (like Bellatrix, whom he does care for), but none of them is an example of a healthy meaningful relationship. So no wonder a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle is so desperate for connection that he almost implicates himself in murder — because he never had any real meaningful connection.

#harry potter #harry potter thoughts #harry potter theory #hollowedtheory #hp theory #wizarding world #overthinking #lord voldemort #voldemort #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort analysis #hogwarts #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #albus dumbledore #hp #hp thoughts #horace slughorn #slytherin

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footballandfics · 1 year

Text

Beautiful moment

you are pregnant, on your last month but you weren't due until two weeks from now.

you and your husband yassine are so excited, you have been married for three years and last year you finally decided to take this step in your life.

today he has a match, very important one, it decided if his team could advance to the champion league next season or not.

you wanted to be there and support him however, neither you or yassine wanted to take any risks with your pregnancy so you are just going to support him from home.

you have been on your own since the morning feeling uncomfortable as always since your belly grown but today it was way too much.

you called your mom to tell her to come to your house feeling afraid that you'll be due on your own and then not knowing what to do since this is your first born.

while you're waiting for her to arrive, still in the morning and your husband traveling to the next city for his game, you don't want for your boy to arrive to the world without his day being close and present.

when your mother get to the house it felt impossible to move , walking became harder and harder, you open the door and she helps you immediately to sit down and relax.

"i'm feeling like today is the day" you tell her and holding her hand, she looks at you worried and feeling your stress.

"it's okay it might be a moment and it'll pass" you shake your head, "it's been two hour i don't think it's just a passing moment, mom can you bring the back right next to my bed just in case".

"what about yassine? do you want me to call him?" she asks you and caresses you forehead.

"no it might be just a false alarm like you said and he has a important game i don't want him to miss it" you think about it, you might not be in labor so you don't want him to be stressed or miss the game.

your mother comes after putting the bag in her car and helps you to get up and you feel everything ten times worse and stronger.

after half an hour you do get to the hospital, they rush to the room doing what they're suppose to do and it looks like you are in labor, getting you ready, you don't know how much time has passed but you feel getting closer and closer to meet your little child.

your family are here waiting outside the room, only your mom next to you holding your hand trying to ease you pain a little bit while reminding you to take a breath every now and then.

"that's it, few pushes and the baby is out" the doctor tells you and five minutes later you do hear his cries and feel a bit of relief that this is over, you wished yassine was with you but it's okay it turned that way, you were two weeks earlier than expected.

holding your baby for a bit before the nurse takes him away, he was so beautiful like an angel, so tiny and with tears in your eyes you kiss him and give him back to the nurse.

moving you to a different room so you could relax and sleep after long hours in pain, you do sleep for a bit but you get woken up when you feel someone kissing your forehead and cheeks.

"hey beautiful" you open your eyes to see yassine looking at you smiling a bit, you hug him "hey handsome".

"how are you feeling?" he's caressing your face and kisses you softly.

"better, did you see him?" you ask him about your son.

"no i wanted to see you first, why didn't call me?" he sits next to you on the bed after you moved a bit for him .

"you have a big game and i wasn't sure today is the day, how the game went?" you remembered the game .

"we won" you hug him again, he deserve only the best and playing in the champion league is something every player dream.

your mother enters and the nurse follows behind with your baby, "somebody wants to say hi" she hands him to you, both of you and his father fall in love with him.

"he's so beautiful" yassine says while looking at him unbelieving that he finally meeting his son.

"do you want to hold him?"

"absolutely" you hand him to yassine carefully and look at them both, falling in love for your husband over again, seeing him kiss your child as softly as possible and he can't move his eyes away.

"i'm sorry i wasn't here at time, i can't believe i messed this and he looks just like you" yassine says to both of you.

"it's okay there's a life of time ahead of us to see" you reassure your husband, kissing his arm that holds your son and he kisses your forehead.

"thank you for the best moment of my life".

#yassine bounou imagine #yassine bounou x reader #yassine bounou #yassine bounou imagines #yassine bounou oneshot #yassine bono x reader #yassine bono #football imagines #football fanfic #football x reader #football imagine

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heliads · 2 years

Note

can i request for minho (again lol) where reader is touch repulssd (she hates physical touch) but someone comments on it and she tries to change, she cuddles minho more and holds his hand even tho it makes her uncomfortable, minho realises and angst(if you can figure out where to put it) and fluff with happy ending

if possible , set in the glade please and can reader be british again thank youu!! x

reader is always british. all of them are british. tmr british au

masterlist

It is impossibly difficult to date Minho. That is not to say that it’s hard to love the boy, far from it; loving Minho is the easiest thing you’ve ever done, faster than falling asleep and comes more naturally than breathing. The Creators could wipe your memory and send you up in the Box a thousand new days, and you’d choose Minho every single time. That’s what love is to you, it’s that feeling of safety, of belonging with somebody like you do to no other place.

No, loving Minho has never been the problem. It’s what came after those startled realizations that perhaps your feelings for each other weren’t totally one sided that is causing you grief. Being in a relationship with Minho should feel good, the natural next step in the way the two of you feel about each other. It’s a shame, then, that it doesn’t.

This could all stem back to insecurity, plain and simple. Minho has always been excessively popular even outside of the fact that he’s a Runner. The other Gladers all but hang off of him for news of the Maze or his easy jokes that could lighten even the most desolate of moods.

Minho is crucial to the Glade, but in all honesty, you’re not sure that you are. You work hard at your job, of course, and have your own set of friends that would rather risk their lives than see you hurt, but it’s not the same and it never will be.

On the other hand, there’s the touch thing. Ever since you opened your eyes for the first time in your shattered memory and found yourself rattling upwards in the grim metal contraption known deadly as the Box, you knew that you didn’t like the thought of human touch.

It just makes you uncomfortable, that’s all. You don’t know if there was some terrible trauma buried deep within the memories you no longer have that would explain all of this, but regardless of the reason, the outcome is clear. You don’t like it when someone lays their hands on you, even if it’s so much as a high five from your closest friends. Even when it’s your boyfriend just trying to show his love for you.

Recently, you’ve been trying to do better. You thought you were hiding the whole thing sufficiently well until one of the Gladers commented on how you practically avoided Minho like the plague. It wasn’t true, of course, the two of you always find time to talk to each other and sit next to each other at every meal, but you suppose that everyone else expects you to be holding hands all the time and making out in every corner.

Usually, you wouldn’t let the comments of the other boys faze you, but you remember the look that flashed across Minho’s face when the other Glader called you out. For one brief, flickering moment, his constant confidence had dropped, leaving a boy that for once in his life was terrified, pure and simple. You could see straight through his eyes to discover that he was afraid more than anything that the other Glader was telling the truth and you were avoiding him. Maybe you didn’t even like him at all and were just pretending.

That’s not true, obviously, but the only person who knows that is you. This is only made worse because Minho doesn’t know about your repulsion to touch. You’ve spilled out your heart to him on many different occasions, but you’ve never been able to cross this particular barrier.

Maybe it’s because you know that the second you say something to Minho, he’ll change. Minho is perfect like that, he has always been perfect. You don’t think half the Glade knows how many sacrifices he’s made for them, how many days in the Maze with no answers he’s turned into seeming like the Runners are on the brink of finding the way out. He makes everyone laugh when he’s feeling desolate, he’d choose their success over them about a thousand times.

That’s why you know that if you were to tell Minho that you can’t stand the feeling of anyone touching you, he’d do everything he could to stop. The worst part of all is that Minho would feel every hand you weren’t holding, every time he wants to kiss you or hold you but can’t. It would hurt him, death by a thousand cuts, but he would never say a word to you, because what Minho is best at is pretending that he’s fine to make sure that everyone else is fine.

Still, you can’t pretend that trying to work around your touch phobia is really working at all. It makes you deathly uncomfortable every time, but it’s not like you have any options. The second you slip up and slide away from Minho, one of the Gladers always notices and calls you out on it. There’s nothing you can do except try and act otherwise, but that doesn’t work out all that well either.

Your best and only choice is to try and conjure up a strong enough poker face that nobody can see through it. This works better at times and worse at others, depending on who’s around you and who’s studying your face for some sign that you might be tempted to leave Minho for one of them. That’s another reason Minho is alarmed about your hesitancy to touch him, he’s fearful that it means you’d be more willing to touch someone else.

It’s not true, of course, but Minho doesn’t know that. You wish he didn’t have to doubt you at all, that he could look at you and see only faithfulness, but when you’re already lying to him about this, you’re certain that he can picture other lies wrapping around your tongue whenever you so much as say a single word.

Tonight will be a testament to how strong a shield your web of lies can produce. It’s a Greenie Day, which means that the arrival of the latest terrified boy will be followed by a night more glorious than any other. Bonfire Nights may only happen once a month, but everyone ensures that they have enough fun and make enough mistakes to last over until the next one.

The nice thing is that, once people get enough of Gally’s brew in them, they tend to stop noticing irrelevant details such as the fact that you’ve been cautiously leaning away from Minho’s outstretched arm as the night progresses. Their eyes are blinded by the sheer dumb luck of not being dead and having enough friends surrounding them that they feel powerful.

You consider the scene sprawling before you from your vantage point a little ways back from the central bonfire. You, Minho, and a few other friends have chosen to set up camp for tonight on the outskirts of the festivities so you can watch everything that’s happening and laugh at the other Gladers making fools of themselves.

Someone dragged a couple of logs here a few hours ago, and you’re all leaning against them now, seated on the ground with your legs stretched out in front of you. The night is dark, and inky blackness pools around all of you, lingering in the conspicuous absence of contact between you and Minho. You’re sure that you must be the only one to see it, yet it feels glaringly obvious all the same.

You swear you can sense everyone’s eyes slowly shifting to you. They must all see how far apart you are, right? You can practically hear their minds whirring as they come up with ways to comment on it. You can’t bear to trouble Minho with it on one of the only good nights of the month, so you force yourself to lean back to him.

Your head settles on his shoulder with the weight of two glaciers colliding, and although there may be no blood spilled at the moment you can still feel every inch of your skin begging for you to move back away. It’s like you’re being suspended by iron manacles, how desperately you want to get down, get away, get out of your own flesh before it’s too late to stop it crawling.

Minho’s arm shudders down around your shoulder a second later, locking you in place. Now there’s no way for you to get out. If you slowly tilt your head up, you can see a soft smile on your face. That more than anything cements the idea that this is what you should be doing. It’s making your boyfriend happy, isn’t it? This is what you should have forced yourself to do a long time ago.

Even as the supposedly simple movement brightens Minho’s day, you can feel it dragging down your own. Your skin prickles as Minho so much as draws a breath, and the weight of his arm even casually draped across your shoulders feels like Atlas’ worldly burden to bear. You don’t know how much longer you can keep this up, but you have to. Pulling away from Minho now would give up the whole charade of liking this.

You’re just bracing yourself to keep this up when Minho extends his hand to take yours. The unexpected additional contact makes you lose control for just a second, and you shiver involuntarily. It was a small enough movement that you don’t think any of the other Gladers surrounding you noticed, but Minho did, and that is enough to make him realize that something’s off with you.

He glances at you quickly, and before you can do anything about it, he looks at you, really looks at you. You can feel his stare pressing in at your ragged seams, taking in the silent suffering that you thought you could hide. Instantly, he’s pulling his arm away, disguising it as a casual cough, but he doesn’t put it back.

A second later, Minho announces that he’s going to get a refill of Gally’s special brew, despite the half empty glass at his feet, and asks you to walk with him. You know exactly where this is going, but you still follow him, the two of you deadly silent until Minho has led you a sufficient distance away from everyone else so as to not encourage any eavesdropping.

At last, he turns around, and instead of seeming angry or frustrated that you’re not acting as a supposedly traditional girlfriend should, Minho just looks hurt.

“Were you going to tell me that you were uncomfortable or should I have just guessed that myself?” He asks, voice quiet.

You sigh. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice at all.”

Minho rubs a tired hand over his face. “Why’s that? I thought we trusted each other, Y/N. That includes you trusting that I wouldn’t do anything to upset you if I knew you were unhappy.”

You look away. “I trust you, Minho. More than anything. It’s just, well, I want you to be happy too. In those minutes before you realized I was uncomfortable and you had your arm around my shoulders, you looked so carefree. I know I’m the only girl here so you don’t have a lot of options with that sort of thing, but I just want you to feel like I’m worth it, you know?”

Your voice trails off, but the words seem to strike Minho like a blow anyway.

“You thought that you had to force yourself to like me touching you because that’s what I wanted?” He asks, almost incredulous. “Y/N, I want you. Nothing else. I like you for you, not just because I can hold your hand. I didn’t know before, but I know now, and I don’t want to do a single thing to make you uncomfortable.”

He seems to believe every word he says, and you allow yourself to smile cautiously. “Really?”

Minho smiles back at you. “Really. Besides,” he adds matter-of-factly, “if I’m desperate to hold someone’s hand I’ll track down Newt. I’m sure he’d be delighted with the whole idea.”

That makes you laugh, and Minho looks pleased that his joke had the intended effect.

“Honestly,” he says, drawing closer, “I’m fine with whatever, Y/N. I just want you.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, one that makes you smile even brighter than before. You were worried that Minho wouldn’t understand, but you know for sure that he does. What’s more, it doesn’t upset him in the slightest. All the two of you need is each other, and you’ll have that for the infinities to come.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria

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avelnfear · 1 year

Text

Chapter Ten

Masterlist

Damian wondered if it would be okay to give into the urge to tackle Danny for cuddles now. He’d held back during the entire plane trip back, and he had snuggled with his mother rather than Danny when he’d found where they’d been fighting. He’d spent way too long pretending that he didn’t know such an important person in his life, and it was getting hard, he could practically feel himself vibrating in place. Damian was staring at Danny as he tried to figure it out, even though he knew that he could be considered rude for doing so.

Nellie was curled into one side, so the other was open for snuggling and there was enough room on the couch. Finally after twelve centuries, it was only five minutes according to his internal clock, Danny noticed him staring and smiled an okay. Still, Damian waited until Nellie gave her consent too before diving at Danny.

There were gasps around the room, and Damian heard at least one person yell his most common nickname in the tone that said they thought he was about to hurt somebody. He ignored all of them in favor of finally, finally, curling up into Danny’s side, one arm reaching behind them to tangle his fingers with Nellie’s. Damian’s eyes slipped closed as he let out a noise of contentment, but he knew that there were shocked looks directed at him from almost every member of his family. It wasn’t his fault that acting like the well adjusted person he used to be would have doomed the world to ending, so he didn’t feel like the gazes were quite warranted.

“So. How about I start out with a brief backstory and then we can get into your questions?” Danny’s voice sent soft rumbles through Damian with how close he was to them. It made Damian let out another sound filled with how content he was to be right where he wanted to be.

“That would be acceptable.” Father’s voice was tense enough that Damian knew him being so close to someone Father considered an unknown probable threat wasn’t giving everyone else the same comfort it was giving him. Oh well.

Danny took in a deep breath, telling Damian which story they were going to tell before they even started. “This is not the first life we’ve lived together. At first, we didn’t really know each other. Tim and I were online friends who discussed superheroes, but we didn’t know each other irl, we didn’t want to. In those days Amity Park, my hometown, was a neighboring city to Gotham, only about an hour or so away. I was adopted at around the age of ten by the Fenton family, in that life at least. I met Jason about eight years later when a government agency picked up signs of contamination on both of us. They called us ghost scum even though the actual term coined by the species we were technically a part of is Existences. Jason and I had both died at least once, brought back at different times and in different ways, but it meant we showed up on their scanners.”

“They’re called the GIW and they’re nearly nonexistent.” Nellie sounded sleepy, but Damian refused to open his eyes to double check.

“Yes, I was getting to that, but thank you.” Danny was surely smiling at Elle, but Damian knew it would drop as soon as the story continued, this was a hard time to relive for all of them who were there and remember. “The GIW did horrible experiments on us with a secondary purpose of killing us eventually. One of the worst things they did was make us believe we were being rescued utilizing some sort of hallucinogen that would make us see and hear whatever we wanted to see and hear then pretending to break us out only to punish us for attempting to escape. It took too long for us to be found, so by the time a real breakout was actually happening-”

“Jason flinched at his own guns.” Damian interrupted, finally opening his eyes to stare at Jason as the memory of that day played in his head. “He only realized it was a real gun when he used it to save us from an agent who was sneaking up on us. The hope and fear that lit up his face at that moment will always stay with me. No one got mad at me when I started to use excessive force, mainly because they were too busy doing the same. By the time we realized Da and Pops were gone, we’d basically destroyed the entire base, leaving the crippled remnants of their agents behind.” Damian saw the horror in Jason’s eyes, and all it did was remind him of that fateful day.

Danny ran their fingers through his hair, and he let it relax him enough for his eye to drift closed, leaning into the point of contact. “We didn’t fully trust that it was actually real, so Jason and I ran to Clockwork and Frostbite, two Existences who live in the dimension all Existences can call home, the Infinite Realms. We stayed there for a couple months to a couple years, time is hard to judge around Clockwork. When we got back, we couldn’t be separated from each other for too long because that typically meant the next experiment would be absolutely awful. Jason and I lived that life to an end that was a long time coming, dying side by side in the same way we’d always lived. It was a good life. Jack and Maddie were good in that one, we managed to rescue Talia from the mind control and brainwashing she was under, and we lived a full life that was full of love and joy.”

“If only it could have lasted into the next.” Elle’s voice was so miserable that Damian scooted closer to Danny to tangle the fingers of their spare hands together, giving his precious ghoul as much comfort as he could.

“Elle is right, the next life was absolutely awful. Damian was never born because Talia died early, Tim died as a tiny child, almost everyone we knew and loved were dying left and right. A combination of having to personally see most of those deaths, Fear Toxin, Joker Venom, and being constantly dipped into the Lazarus Pit drove the Dick of that life to such insanity he eventually blew up the entire universe, forcefully making everyone in that universe move on. Jason and I remembered our first life for the entirety of our second, but I didn’t remember either life we’d lived until I reached what I think is eighteen years of mortal life and full maturity as an Existence. Existences don’t age or count maturity in the same way that mortals do, so Elle is technically my adult child even though she’s only about sixteen-ish in mortal years.”

Elle hummed. “Jack’s a piece of shit in this life though.”

Danny groaned playfully. “You’re so lucky that you can swear because you weren’t there when most of the town got soul cursed because of that stupid wish.”

“What, you gonna tell me I’m strawberry crepe grounded because you’re jealous I can say fuck?” Elle was probably smirking, if the teasing frame of voice was anything to go by. Damian just stayed floating in the void of black behind his eyes, letting the voices of his loved ones wash over him as the sense of peace rocked him to sleep so suddenly that he barely registered when it happened.

~`~`~

“I’ve never seen Demon Brat go to sleep like that before.” Jason’s voice was quiet and full of shock, managing to express himself while still making sure he didn’t wake his brother up.

“You mean you don’t remember him sleeping like this before, just like you don’t remember him ever calling you Pops before.” There was a slight smirk on Danny’s face that Jason saw in the corner of his eye as he kept staring at Damian, half expecting him to wake up because Danny hadn’t lowered their voice at all. “Don’t worry he won’t wake up.”

Dick shifted, drawing Jason’s attention to the stiff way he was sitting. “Why did he call you Da and Jason Pops?”

“Because that’s what I call them!” Nellie chirped.

Danny chuckled. “He married Nellie here in our first life, so we were his in-laws. Talia is his mother, Bruce is his father, Jason is his pops, I’m his da, and you, Dick, are his dad. He just didn’t have a chance to address you as such before falling asleep.”

“How does he remember? Is there a way that we could remember?” Tim sounded like he wanted to ask more, but Jason respected his ability to cut his questions off, staying silent because he didn’t think he could do the same.

“I think he made a deal with Clockwork to prevent the chaos of our second life, taking upon himself the burden of remembering for us. I don’t think he remembers the second, because I don’t know if he ever existed in the second. As for a way that you could remember… Jason will remember eventually, as soon as the Pit’s Influence finally leaves him behind. As for the rest of you… only if you become an Existence, of which there are many types. If you’re asking to see if you managed to solve your case before, you didn’t.” Danny looked so sad at the end there that Jason couldn’t help what blurted out of his mouth next.

“What happened to Tim with the twin case?”

Danny looked even closer to tears, and Jason felt like kicking himself at seeing that expression on their face. “He died.” Shock kept the room completely still and silent. “He didn’t share it, adding another massive project on top of his work in his civilian life and his vigilante life. The rest of you, not knowing what was bothering him and not wanting to push him too hard just tried to pick up the slack in a desperate attempt at giving him a break. It didn’t work. The more time he had off from his other obligations, the more he sunk into the twin case, but he never found anything.” The words poured out of Danny like a waterfall of agony, paralyzing everyone else in the room with the sheer depth and intensity of the feeling. “It.. It got to the point that we all tried to bench him, but he grabbed a spare suit and snuck out. On route to the Twin Case Safehouse, which is where I live now, he ran into the Joker, who killed him. We.” Danny paused, taking in a deep, fortifying breath that had Jason stiffening in fear for what would be said next. “We managed to keep Tim alive and back to the Cave. He was the right kind of personality and in the right kind of space to become an Existence after death, but he-” Tears started leaking from Danny’s eyes, as he broke off to do some calming breathing techniques. A minute of silence later, he picked the thread of the story back up again. “He said that he didn’t want to continue existing, that he didn’t deserve to, because he’d never finished his case. He said that the only solution he could come to is that his target was already dead and he refused to continue living in any way when they’d already passed into Limbo. He was the first to die.”

“Who else died to the Joker?” Bruce’s voice was quiet and fearful, yet steady, like he was horrified of the potential answers but needed to know regardless. Jason needed to know too, Danny had come home exhausted every time he’d been assigned to guard the clown. Jason needed to know how bad it was.

“Jason and I in our second life, Bruce, Tim, Dick, Duke, and Steph in our first life. He ordered the bomb set that killed Jazz, Tuck, Sam, and Jack in that first life as well. He was at least involved in the situations that killed most of you in the second life as well. He blinded Dick only a month before he killed him, so there’s that. He baited Scarecrow into the attack that killed Alfred. He tortured Jon into silence and a near coma, and he was at least part of a lot of the hero deaths that occurred in that first life, although most of those weren’t the most well known of heroes. Every time I see him, I refuse to give him any satisfaction, locking my emotions and feelings deep inside to present a blank mask to him all the while fighting back my natural instincts to kill him,” Danny’s face and voice were as dark as the topic, “To torture him and show him just what he put my family through in a life he no longer remembers, to show him what true fear really is, to make him the focus of every joke he once pulled, to-” Danny cut off when Damian stirred in his sleep, automatically brightening as he turned a little more towards Damian to pass their fingers through his hair again, muttering things that Jason couldn’t hear that caused Damian to sigh and relax back into sleep.

“We’re movin on from this topic. You guys can go discuss whatever ya want to in another room, but I’m gonna set this couch up inta the bed it can become and Ma, Damian, n I will be takin a nap. Don’t disturb us for your own safety, now shoo.” Nellie glared at them while flapping her hands until everyone had left and closed the door.

Jason was worried for Danny, that was a heavy topic and a heavy burden to carry. He was worried for Damian too, carrying the same weight for so long must have been exhausting. Talia was waiting for them in the sitting room that everyone settled into for the post questioning discussion. She took one look at their faces and gave them all an understanding smile.

“I remember everything too. Jason and Danny both needed a stand in to take the burden of remembering everything in order for this whole thing to work. Ask all your remaining questions to me, I’ll answer what I can.” At the disbelieving looks she received, she let out a short bark of laughter. “I swear on my loyalty to High King Phantom that I will not lie to any of you for this discussion.” The words sent a feeling of power through the room. “Believe me now?”

Taglist: @blacksea21090 @chrysanthemum9484 @samgirl98 @may-rbi @justwannaseesomebrozawa @serasvictoria02 @treepainting @fluffykster @enderglace @sigdexae @persephoneblackrose @angelofsongsoteira @lazy-bouqet @littlefeather345 @icedbluesoul @autumnwulf @thefearfullone @alixanterm @skulld3mort-1fan @dulceringo @vidimirrayne @betinaplayingwriter @the-legal-shipper @currant-owo @crystalqueertea @fisticuffsatapplebees @bugaboo25 @dannyphantomphan @botwadtict @kyrianclawraith @mnemovoid @lyra689 @demiourgias @d4ydr34min9 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @emeraldcorpral @bobred18 @emergentpanda-blog @apointlessbox @pastalavistamf @v-inari @shadow-otaku20 @hellomygay

#ttac(wygiaf)#Damian Wayne #Jason Todd #danny fenton #danielle fenton #Talia al Ghul #bruce wayne #Tim Drake #dick grayson #we finally got some backstory in #DeadOnMain #dcxdp #dpxdc #jason todd x danny fenton #i've been wanting to do a chapter or segment from damian's perspective for a while #it finally felt like it fit #Reincarnation AU #we get some insight into why danny hates the joker so much #i don't blame him #danny definitely glossed over a lot of important details #he didn't really want to answer questions about it #i mean #who tells your family that doesn't remember you like you remember them that you aren't fully alive and that you are a king of the afterlife #that isn't quite the casual news he was trying to make his life out to be #poor damian had to be touch starved of his own choice this life #because clockwork told him it would kill the world if done at incorrect times

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jorvikpov · 7 months

Text

You wake up tired.

It no longer surprises you. You cannot remember the last time you were allowed a full night’s rest. Sleep comes to you in fragments these days; too many times each night to count, you are startled awake so violently that it is difficult to fall asleep again. Your dreams come in fragments, too, and it is becoming harder and harder to tell whether they are the same dream flashing back and forth between a thousand scenes or a thousand different dreams. You may glimpse a deep, wild ocean, or a cold, beautiful winter morning, or a raging scream that comes from you and yet from something entirely different—the list goes on. The moments are incohesive, and yet you feel like something you can’t quite place connects them. Like you only have to fill in the gaps. You cannot, of course, fill in the gaps.

You used to wake up feeling disappointed at it all. The fragmented visions, the gaps where something should connect them, and the uneasy sleep were frustrating at best. Now, it is only to be expected. Each day your time for evenings at home grows shorter and shorter as your training gets more and more intense, and yet each night you manage to put off going to sleep for longer and longer. You know that you will wake a thousand times with only the night sky, the rustling trees, and the knots in your ceiling to keep you company. You know that you will wake exhausted in the morning. You know that there is hardly any point to sleeping.

Oftentimes, your unease brings you to the stables. To your horse. It is still warm there. It will not be that way for much longer, though. Winter grows nearer with each dawn; the grass is already cold and crisp with frost when you wake each morning, and on colder days, your breath fogs even when the sun is highest. Soon enough, the stables will be too cold for anything but animals equipped with thick, warm coats made to let them live through the Jorvegian midwinter.

Sleeping in the stables is becoming more and more difficult, either way. Though you are never directly questioned, you know that people have begun to notice. When you leave for training far too early in the morning and far too undone to have woken up anywhere but your horse’s stall, people are already around. They begin whispering as soon as you have passed them on the village paths. How are you to save the world? How are you to lead the way? How are you to learn to control yourself if you cannot even sleep properly anywhere but the stables?

You do not actually hear them, of course—Valedale’s residents are too tactful and too used to speaking in hushed tones to let you catch their conversations—but you can only assume that these are their words.

When faced with you directly, on the other hand, they are all too nice and appreciative. Should you run even the simplest errand for one of them, they will thank you so profusely that one might think you were the goddess herself and that being graced with your presence was the greatest blessing they could have been given. Should you happen to look anything other than incredibly busy, it is impossible for you to ride through Valedale at midday without somebody stopping you to give their thanks for your constant, diligent and dutiful efforts towards keeping the island safe and to wish you well in the name of Aideen. Stood in the shadow of a house or half-hidden behind a building, others will be silently watching. Whispering. Sometimes, there is awe in their eyes. Other times, they look at you with an expression indecipherable to you. They must think that you cannot see them. Either that, or they don’t care that you can. You aren’t sure which is the better option.

The villagers doubt you, and yet you are their last and only hope. The only one on this island who can supposedly set things right once and for all. With each day that passes, even you find yourself having more and more trouble believing that you will succeed. Though you do not have the visions to prove it, a deep dread within you tells you that the Soul Riders are not the only faction to be gaining power. You have tried to find proof of it, but in your mind there is a blank, foggy space where you know you should be able to find something of use, almost like somebody is concealing something from your view. This only makes the feeling grow stronger; you can think of few people who would be that interested, much less capable, of hiding from your mind’s eye.

You do not speak of it. You cannot. It is not what you are to focus on. The most important thing—the only important thing—is your training. It is the only way you know to give yourself hope. It is the only way you know to keep going. And so, you rise with the sun every morning, painstakingly making your way through the village and up the frost-lined path to the mountainside paddock, and you do your best to hold onto whatever strength you have left.

#sso #star stable #star stable online #ssoblr #ssofic #sso fic #jorvikpov #like this one? well then you have manda to thank for keeping me going even when I was in my fever woozies #not that she told me to do anything but the mere Having of a beta reader/brainstorm friend helps a lot with motivation & keeping me going #really prevents the ''augh I'm feeling not up to it this week. I'll just skip'' and then a month later ''WAIT FUCK''

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months

Text

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, cannibalism, kidnapping, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, dub-con

Summary: Just when he's given up on ever finding Mr. Right, Steve meets the - seemingly - perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen"--or something like that

3. Hors D'oeuvre

Wait! I haven't read the previous chapter(s)

James winds up apologizing profusely for the insanely bad bite.

Steve’s a little disturbed that the guy would do something that rough on their first time together, but he chalks it up to the heat of the moment and forgives him,` telling James that: it's okay, he’s always been a freaky-fast healer anyway.

“S’my superpower,” he quips, making light of it when it's obvious James feels terrible.

“I’m still sorry,” he insists, thumbing carefully over the mostly-healed skin two days later. He stares at it like he stares at everything else—intensely. “I got carried away. Won’t do it again.”

Steve believes him.

Within a week, it’s pretty obvious that they’re dating. Steve kind of feels like the other shoe has got to drop at any moment, but that just keeps not happening. James is like, the perfect guy.

“He’s a doctor?” Clint says, on the third day after Bite Night. It’s movie night and he and Steve are rewatching Midsommar, because Clint’s a movie nerd and is convinced there are still hidden themes he can pick apart in the freaky-ass film. Right now the screen is paused at the exact second where they hammer the old guy’s head into paste. Clint really is a savant with a remote control.

Steve looks the gore over critically and stuffs more chips in his mouth, crunching. “Um, yeah,” he says distractedly.

He wonders how movie people make it look so real. How would they even know what to make it look like? Did one of the movie people see somebody’s head collapse in real life?”

“Earth to STEVE,” Clint waves a hand in front of his face and Steve blinks.

“What?”

“I said: what kind of doctor is he?”

“A surgeon,” Steve says, feeling warm and tingly even as he remembers it. He’s not only met a smart, sexy and funny older guy— he’s met a surgeon. Which automatically means he’s rich, too. Nobody is that fucking lucky in love, certainly not Steve.

“Of what?” Clint prods. “Like, hearts and brains? or boob jobs?”

Steve pauses with another handful of chips. Hm. That’s a good question. “I don’t know,” he says. “What’s it matter?”

“It matters because it’ll determine how much I esteem the guy,” Clint insists.

Steve snorts. “What? If he's a plastic surgeon he doesn’t deserve your respect?”

“Are you kidding? I’d respect him more if that’s what he was.” Clint grimaces. “I respect the hell out of anybody who can pull people’s skin off and rearrange it and unnatural shit like that. S’way more horrible than operating on a regular old heart or whatever.”

Steve makes a face as he considers that. “Yeah, I guess so. I heard once that when they do a nose job they literally like, pull the nose up off the face first.”

Clint gags. “Dude! No. My brain can’t unknow this now!”

“And yet you can watch shit like this.”

Clint presses play and the film resumes, the frame shifting from pasted-guy's head, to Florence Pugh's horrified face. “That's different," he says. "It’s movie magic, dumbass.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You’re a dumbass.”

James tasks Steve with picking an actual date activity for them to do next. “No pressure,” he teases him over the phone, “but I hate stereotypes.”

Well. So much for mini golfing or the movies.

The place is called Bad Axes, their logo is a butt with an ax lodged in it, and the only two things to do there are drink beer and throw axes. Steve doesn’t reveal what they’re headed for when they meet at the subway, so James doesn’t know what's in store until they’re standing right outside the business' doors with the logo on them.

He stares for a long, long moment, and then busts out with the loudest, most sudden laugh. He looks over at Steve with a pained, almost hysterical expression.

Steve laughs. “What?”

“Nothing!” James squeaks. “This’ll be fun!”

Steve spends the rest of the date preening over the fact that he’s impressed his boyfriend.

(He only calls him that in his head, so far. He knows they’re not ‘boyfriends’ yet. They’re still feeling each other out, trying on the idea of being boyfriends. It’s just hard for Steve to remember that, when everything feels so natural between them.)

They grab drinks and get the safety and throwing tutorial from the unimpressed girl whose job it is to supervise drunk businessmen throwing sharp objects after work. It’s an over-the-head kind of deal, and Steve is prepared to nurture his manly pride and leave feeling a little bit like a Viking.

“Want to bet on who wins?” James asks, where he stands beside Steve in their little throwing area, a devilish gleam in his eye.

Steve considers it. The Axe Girl had told them it’s not so much a strength thing as a technique thing, so he’s not worried about being at a disadvantage. “Sure," he decides. "What are we betting on?”

“Hmm, how about … loser has to tell a secret about themselves,” James says. “First to stick the target twenty times wins.”

Steve’s stomach jumps at the look in James' eye. He grins. “You’re on.” Steve doesn’t have any good secrets anyway, so losing won't be a big deal (even though he fully intends to win).

They throw.

There’s a certain amount of body memory to it, Steve discovers after about fifteen minutes of fruitless throwing, his axe cracking off the plywood and thunking pathetically to the ground each time. He winds up getting the hang of it, but not in time to win the bet. James’ axe sticks on the first throw, and the second, and most of the times after.

Steve sulks about it as they take a break at one of the high-top tables, drinking their second round. “You’ve done this before,” he pouts, accusing. “Admit it.. You're a secret lumberjack.”

James looks at him fondly, like he thinks Steve’s reaction is cute. “Not exactly. But I've chopped enough to know my way around an axe.”

Steve grumps playfully at him. “Fine, cheater. I’ll think of a secret to tell you.” Bucky chuckles while Steve sips his beer and tries to come up with something juicy enough to be a ‘secret’ but not so juicy that it reflects badly on him. “I used to get in fights a lot."

James rolls his eyes. “Like as a kid? That doesn’t count.” He shoots him a sly look. “Adult secrets, Steven.”

Steve flushes at the use of his given name. There’s something oddly domineering about it that he likes. “Um, well … I've been arrested?”

James’ eyes light up. “Oh, do tell.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Of course not.”

“It wasn’t!” Steve laughs, shoving James’ shoulder. “It was a bar fight, basically. Some asshole bothering this woman he didn’t know, not taking no for an answer.”

James’ smile softens to something fond. “Aw, Steve. I should'a known. That's you then? Always trying to be a white knight?”

Steve scowls at the term but doesn’t try to deny it. “Well somebody had to do something,” he mutters. “I wasn’t the one who threw the first punch.”

“Why the arrest, then?”

“The charges were dropped. But I guess the jerk had some friends backing him up when the cops came, so I got rounded up too.”

James hums in understanding. “Well, I suppose that’s sort of a secret. But I have to say, I was really hoping for something a little more intriguing from you, Steve. A little more naughty.”

Steve snorts. “Why? You planning to blackmail me?”

“No.”

“You just like bad boys, then,” he jokes. He’s about the farthest thing there is from a bad boy. “Sorry. You’re outta luck with that one.”

“I’m not,” James says quietly, looking him in the eyes. “I actually like the sweet ones.”

Steve colors, he knows he does. “Oh.” He’s a sweet one. He chuckles and looks down at his beer bottle, turning it in little circles. “Thanks. I guess.”

James hums. “Hey, why don’t I apologize for my non-disclosure of my axing abilities, huh? I’ll tell you one of my secrets, too.”

“I’m all ears. What’s your secret?” In his head, Steve sarcastically imagines James saying something like, “I’m actually married and have two point five kids,” or, “I’m addicted to piss and shit porn.”

That’s not what he says.

“I’ve eaten human flesh.”

Steve blinks. “What.” He waits for the punchline, the second part of that confession that’ll make it funny, but there isn’t one. James just sits there and nods somberly. Steve laughs. “No, you haven’t. You have not.”

“I was just out of med school and interning at a center for pediatric reconstructive surgery in Shanghai.”

The smile drops right off Steve’s face. So he is a plastic surgeon, he thinks. He'll have to tell Clint. "The fuck?" he breathes.

James' mouth twists. “Yeah. That's what I said, when I realized."

"You're making this up," Steve says weakly, even though he can tell he's not, because James is sitting there looking completely serious and nodding grimly.

"We'd gone out to a rural village, to assess a few kids for cleft palate correction. There was a mud slide on the only road out of the valley, and we wound up stuck there for a few days."

“What—” Steve realizes he’s nearly whispering. He firms up his voice. “What happened?”

“I was served a meal from a local family, already cooked.”

“Oh." Steve exhales in relief. "So then, you didn’t actually see—”

“No.” James cants his head. “But it wasn’t any meat I’d ever had before. It was …” He trails off, eyes going distant as he thinks about it. “It was so different.”

Steve stares at him, shocked. “But … but that's a big leap. I mean it could’ve been anything. Dog or ... or tiger. Don’t they have tigers in China?”

“Not in that part of the country.” James watches Steve closely for a moment, gauging his reaction. Eventually he looks away, frowning. “And you could tell there was something going on. There was ... At the time, I didn't understand, but it was the way the villagers acted. There was something off about them, something about the way they skulked around, the way they looked at us. How gaunt they all were ..." He shakes his head, deep in thought. "I did some research once I got back. There are some recorded accounts; those soccer players that crashed in the Andes, the Donner party. An anthropologist in the thirties who ate with a tribe in Africa. He wrote a very detailed account of how the different cuts of the meat tasted, what it looked like, what it smelled like.” He inhales deeply, as though pulling himself out of the memory. When his gaze lands back on Steve, it's dead serious and shockingly nonchalant. “It all matched up to what I’d eaten.”

Steve gapes, horrified. He can’t believe that it was a … a human that James had been served. It was too awful. People wouldn’t do that. ... Would they? “It wasn’t,” he says, as if he can make it so by saying it. “They wouldn’t have.”

James still doesn’t seem bothered, though he has pity in his eyes for Steve, apparently able to see how shaken he is by it. “You gotta understand, it was a bad situation. A dead, closed off valley where nothing ever grew. The Chinese government had banished these people out there for some slight, blocked off their access to food. It was like a gulag. These people were living in extreme poverty: cold, sick, and halfway starving. Animals'll do anything when they’re starving."

"Animals ..."

He shrugs and sits back in his chair. "At the end of the day, that’s all we really are. Some very big, overly-clever animals.”

Steve swallows thickly, his throat suddenly dry. He reaches for his beer and takes a hasty swig. “How do you, um, how do you deal with it, then?” he asks. “If you really think that’s what it was?” He’s a little bit stunned by how calm James has remained through telling the whole story.

“It doesn’t bother me,” James says easily. “There’s no way I can know for sure that’s what I ate that day, and I didn’t do it on purpose.” He shrugs and waves it off. “It was so long ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Wow,” Steve says, stunned. “I mean, just … no. And wow.”

“Pretty big secret, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve mutters, trying to lighten up. James isn’t dwelling on it and he probably doesn’t want Steve to, either. “Yeah, you have, um. Much juicier secrets than me.”

James tips his bottle back for the last dregs of his beer, then clacks it firmly down onto the table. “So,” he says, eyes regaining their challenging, sly glint. “Now that you know my deepest, darkest secret; want to throw another round?”

A few days later, at precisely 11:30 am, Steve receives a text:

Weird Meat Guy: Hey you. I’m starving. Want to grab lunch with me?”

Steve looks down at his dirty work clothes. Yikes. Knowing himself, he figures there's a good chance he also has paint in his hair or on his face, or both.

Steve: yeah sounds good. In 30 or so? Gotta wash up.

Weird Meat Guy: see you soon, handsome.

James texts him an address that's in Park Slope, followed by a cartoon ‘nom-nom’ eating GIF. Steve holds his phone with gesso-crusted fingers and beams at the screen. James must like Steve just as much as Steve likes him, because he’s thinking about him during the week. He’s texting him and sending stupid GIFs and asking him out on lunch dates.

This is going incredibly well.

It's nothing fancy, which Steve appreciates. They meet inside a Panera by Prospect Park. They order drinks and find chairs to sit in by the windows while their sandwiches are made. “Don't you work in Midtown though?” Steve asks, confused. “This is a bit of a hike for a lunch break.”

James stares at him for a long few seconds, blinking repeatedly. “... Oh! Well … I had a big gap between clients today.” He smiles winningly and covers Steve’s hand with his own on the tabletop, giving it a squeeze. “There’s nobody I’d rather make the hike for.”

Steve tries not to let his smile overtake his face, but it’s hard.

Their food arrives, and they eat while trading stories about themselves. Steve tells James how he lives and works alone, but doesn’t mind it one bit. He tells him about his family, or at least, what family he used to have.

“So, nobody?” James asks. “You’re all alone?”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, thinking that James might be feeling pity for him. “I miss my mom, but it’s been a long time. And I’ve made a couple friends. They help.”

“Oh yeah? Who're your friends?”

“Oh. Well there's Clint. We met back in college. And Natalie. She’s the one I told you about.”

“Your patron.” James nods. “I remember.” He leans forward. “So do they know about me?”

“Yeah.”

“What did you tell them about me?”

Steve smirks. “Oh I dunno. Just that I met a really good looking weirdo at the grocery store. Haven’t called the police on him yet.”

James laughs. “That’s all?”

“Pretty much.” Steve shrugs and takes another bite of his sandwich, unconcerned with it. “Clint says he respects you for being able to—and I quote—‘pull people’s skin off and rearrange their outsides’.”

James’ lips quirk. “Well, it is a skill.”

Steve shivers theatrically. “Uck. Power to you. I guess somebody’s gotta do it."

"Alas, yes. The meat market. Demand is only ever growing."

Steve snorts. "Well hey, at least it means you’re, ah … intimately familiar with anatomy.” He winces before he's even finished saying it. Ew, what a lame joke.

But James’s eyes crinkle in amusement anyway. “Yes," he says, reaching for his sandwich again. "I certainly am.”

Steve has James over to Netflix and Chill. He’s not sure if this counts as their sixth date or seventh, but they’ve been seeing each other steadily for the past three weeks, calling and texting daily, so it’s definitely not too soon to start thinking about the “R” word. That’s where it feels like this is headed, but Steve is too chickenshit to speak up and ask if they’re officially in a relationship.

He researches how to make eggplant parmesan and mostly doesn’t screw it up, and James seems touched that he went through the trouble of cooking something vegetarian for him.

“It’s delicious,” he reassures Steve. “I even like the crusty black bits.”

He asks Steve what he does for fun, and Steve is once again left feeling like a boring dolt when he can only answer, “I mean, I really just paint or draw, or watch tv. Clint tries to drag me out for bowling or karaoke once in a while.” He fights not to wince at himself. Jesus god is he boring. He thinks again about joining a gym, maybe getting into boxing or Krav Maga or something. “What about you?” he asks. “What do you do when you’re not carving people up?”

“Hardy har.” James thinks about it. “Well, I do love to do stuff outdoors. I work out ...”

“Yeah you do,” Steve teases, leering a little. James laughs him off.

“I read some, usually have two books going concurrently.”

Steve imagines James having a big, expensive library, complete with those nifty rolling ladders.

“And I’m a pretty good cook,” he adds. “I enjoy it. Working on being an amateur cuisinier, as I said.”

Steve pointedly looks at both of their plates of semi-burnt eggplant slop. “Then why am I the one making us dinner?”

James chuckles, leans across the table to kiss him on the cheek, and promises he’ll cook for Steve sometime soon.

After dinner, Steve pulls up his Netflix queue and scrolls through for something that looks good but not too good, since they’ll probably start fooling around partway through and miss half of it.

They watch a documentary about Richard Ramirez, which Steve apologizes for. (“I know, I know. Me and every other basic white girl likes the true crime stuff.”)

Halfway into Ramirez’s fucked up childhood, Steve says, “Man, what would you do if your kid turned out like that, huh?”

“Question my parenting choices, that’s for sure.”

“I know, right?" Steve shudders. "I feel so bad for Jeffry Dahmer’s mom.”

“Why? She’s alive and kicking. Feel bad for Ed Gein’s mom: pretty sure she’s a lampshade now.”

“Christ.”

James looks over at Steve. “Do you want kids?”

Steve freezes, the unexpected change in topic throwing him for a loop. “Um …” Not ones that'll turn me into a lampshade, he doesn't say.

This is something they haven’t done yet; asked each other what they want for their lives long-term. Because such questions naturally infer that they might be considering each other for a starring role in said life.

Steve swallows heavily and works up the courage to softly admit, “Yeah, one day I do.” He dares to meet James’ eyes, and is relieved when he doesn’t see any rejection there. “I want what most people do, I guess. Get married, have kids.” He shrugs. “The American dream, right?”

“What? No white picket fence and a dog named Fido?”

Steve deflates a little. “Don’t make fun.”

“I wasn’t.” James scoots closer and puts his arm around him. “Hey. No, Honey. I wasn’t making fun of you. I want that stuff too.”

“You do?”

“Mmhm.” He kisses Steve's cheek. “I’m glad you told me,” he says. “Makes you even more of the perfect catch.”

Steve snorts. "Yeah. Sure."

James is the perfect catch, Steve is just incredibly lucky.

James has to go on a sudden work trip, and it's a solid week that they're apart.

The next time he comes over to Steve's place, he’s barely in the door before Steve is slamming it shut and pushing him up against the wall. He sinks to his knees and looks up at James, whose eyes have gone from widened to heavy-lidded in seconds. "Hey."

James smiles lazily and cups his cheek. “Hey there.”

Steve touches him over his jeans, starts rubbing slow and purposeful. After a moment or two, James gets hard enough that he can feel it through the denim. He knees in closer, pushes his face into his groin and rubs his cheek along the bulge of his dick.

James’ hands migrate to his head, running through his hair, over his scalp. “Mm,” he hums, amused. “Did you miss me, Sweetheart?”

It’s been little more than a week apart, but Steve has missed him embarrassingly much. He makes a plaintive noise against James’ crotch and nods. “Yeah.” He’s barely heard from the other man. He doesn’t want to complain though, because it’s still early for them and he doesn’t want to seem too needy.

James had warned him he’d be very busy working and mostly unreachable. He'd had to take a flight out for a surgery consult somewhere—Steve can’t remember where. It doesn’t matter. He’s just glad James is back. He looks up from his spot on the floor, batting his eyelashes and reaching for the front of James’ pants. “Can I?”

James grins and relaxes back against the wall. “All yours,” he says, watching Steve like he’s ready for a show. Steve flushes in a heady mix of arousal and shyness. He tucks his lips in as his fingers find the button at James’ fly, pop it open and pull down the zipper. He curls his fingers over the waistband at James’ hips and pulls, until the jeans are halfway down his thighs. He stops.

James is wearing briefs today—white, and with a waistband that has black lettering: Calvin Klein. Steve grins as arousal hits him harder, his own dick stirring in his sweats. “Tighty-whities, huh?” he teases, and when he looks up, he sees James looking down at him, amused.

“What? You don’t approve?”

“Oh, I approve.” He presses his face against the front, against the hardening line of James’ dick beneath the fabric. What he really likes is to see it get hard from the very start, and he's already making a plan to have James naked for this from the get-go, next time. He palms the soft weight of James’ balls through the fabric while placing kisses along the length of his stirring dick. “Been wanting to do this since that first night,” he murmurs. He rubs his other hand over him, circling the wet spot just by the head. “You've got such a nice cock.”

James makes a pleased noise. “Why don’t you get it out, then?” he says softly, one hand cupping Steve’s chin. His thumb pulls down on Steve’s bottom lip. “I want to see your pretty mouth stretchin' around it.”

Steve moans quietly and nods, fingers hurrying to pull his underwear down. James’ cock bobs obscenely in the air once it’s released, still angled downward from the weight of it and from only being half hard. Steve licks his lips, excited at finally getting to really appreciate it up close. He hasn’t had much chance yet, but he’s seen it, knows that it's beautiful.

James is big—as big a top can get before it becomes counterproductive, in Steve's opinion. A respectable length, with a truly mouth watering girth. His balls are soft and warm in Steve’s palm where he holds them. James is shaved there, while everything else is trimmed down short. "Sir," Steve teases, fondling the smooth weight of his balls. "I may just have to wind up sucking on these."

Above him, James chuckles lowly. "Gotta do what you gotta do, Steven. I won't hold it against ya."

Fuck. What is it about James saying his given name like that? It's so hot, feels almost dirty. Steve can't hold back anymore. He takes his cock in hand and explores it with the gentlest of touches, tracing a prominent vein that runs underneath and up along the side, circling his finger on the wet head that’s peeking out, just barely pressing the tip of his thumb into the slit. He bites his lip as it twitches and jerks. Fuck. It’s fucking beautiful.

Above, James makes a sound in his throat, and when Steve looks up he sees him looking darkly amused. “You sure are taking your sweet time with that, Princess.”

Ooh, Princess. That’s a new one. Steve smirks. “I can take all the time I want.”

He says that, but in the next few seconds he’s already lost his patience, too eager for more. He wants to feel it on his tongue, wants to taste it. He sucks the head into his mouth and is rewarded by James’ quiet groan.

“That’s it,” he praises. “Mm.”

Steve sucks him, swirling his tongue over the head and pulling gently with his hand, jerking him off a little while he sucks. He keeps it up, feeling James twitch and grow in his mouth, until he’s fully erect, and Steve just has to pop off to see. His own hand looks tiny and pale on James' dick. He jerks him softly and groans at the sight of the foreskin sliding over the weeping, fat tip. God, Steve loves uncut guys.

James is watching him with heavy eyes, his lips slightly parted, enthralled at the sight of Steve exploring down between his legs. Steve smirks up at him and looks him in the eye as he kisses along his thigh, hipbone, pelvis; all the way up to his stomach and belly button and back down. He rubs his cheek on the hot juncture of his groin and returns to stroking his cock at a languorous pace. “You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. “Could do this all day.”

“Oh yeah?” James cards a hand through Steve’s hair—a hand that Steve is very smug to note is trembling the tiniest bit—and leaves it there, caressing his scalp. “Can you go deeper?” he asks quietly, offering it up rather than demanding it.

Steve appreciates the concern, but he’s eager to show off. “‘Can I go deeper’,” he mutters, scoffing. “Hold onto your dick, Honey. This is gonna feel really good.” He sucks James’ cock back into his mouth, only this time he keeps going, taking it all the way until it's in his throat and his nose is buried in the short hair at the base.

Above him, James finally loses his composure, his breath stuttering out in a stifled, “Oh, fuck.”

Steve hums eagerly. He grabs onto the back of James’ thighs and squeezes, uses the grip to yank him even closer. He slides his hands up and grabs at his ass, able to feel the muscles tensing and relaxing as James tries so hard not to thrust into his mouth. Steve pulls off and meets his eyes. “You want to fuck my face?” he asks, eager to give James whatever he wants. “You can.”

James looks utterly smitten. He hooks his thumb in at the corner of Steve’s mouth and pulls gently. “Sweet boy,” he murmurs. Steve’s about to take that as a ‘yes’, but then James tells him otherwise. “Another time,” he says. “Right now I just want to watch you work for it.”

Steve’s belly flips in arousal. Fucking hell. He reaches down to squeeze his own dick, which is painfully constricted in his sweatpants by now. He mostly ignores it though, wanting to put all his focus into pleasing James and pulling more wrecked sounds of pleasure from him. This is a relationship Steve really wants to go the distance in, okay? So he shoots James his best sultry look while wettings his lips, and then sinks right back down with eye contact, prepared to give this man the best head of his life.

They shower together, after coming from each other’s hands and mouths. It’s an intimate experience, standing naked and sated together under the spray of the water, touching each other’s bodies without intent. It’s almost more intimate than the sex they’ve just had.

Steve shivers and luxuriates in it as James stands behind him and runs water-slicked hands over his body, not speaking, just enjoying what he’s touching. He kneads the meat of Steve’s ass, his thighs, draws soapy-slick circles down his ribs and across his belly. He kisses and mouths at his neck as he touches him all over. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, and that’s the only word uttered between them for the entirety of the shower.

Later, when they’re sitting together on the couch, drinking wine and talking lazily with nothing but towels wrapped around their waists, James describes his apartment in Manhattan. It’s centrally located but small, because “real estate in the city is sickening.”

“Tell me about it,” Steve murmurs, giving his own shoebox of an apartment a onceover.

James insists that he spends as little time in the city as possible. His preferred residence (because of course he has multiple) is “in the wilderness.”

“Jersey?” Steve asks, lip curled in a sneer.

“Oh no! A little more wild than that,” James laughs, pouring more wine into the glass Steve’s holding out. “It’s out in the Catskills," he confides. "My secret cabin."

"The Catskills?" Steve frowns, trying to think of how long of a drive that must be. “I’ve never been."

“Oh you’d love it,” James insists. “It’s gorgeous out there. Miles and miles of trees. Peace and quiet, no neighbors to bother you.” He smiles wistfully. “It’s the one place I can really let go and relax, be myself. It’s my retreat.”

“It sounds wonderful,” Steve says. James looks so happy when he talks about it, it makes Steve want to go there with him. “Will you take me there someday?” he asks. He’s very aware that the question implies that they’ll still be together down the line. That this thing they have, whatever it is, will continue.

James considers him thoughtfully, though, eyes soft and mysterious, not seeming to mind that Steve is envisioning them in the future. He peers at him in that intense, evaluating way that he has. “Well,” he says. "I mean why not? That'd be fun. Let’s do it.”

“Wait, what? Do it?” Steve repeats, surprised. “You mean like a trip? Like, now?"

“Yeah!" James laughs. “We can go for a few days. I’ll drive us out there and we can just relax together. Cook, watch movies. There’s hiking around the area. And I have a hot tub.”

Steve gasps. “I love hot tubs!”

James laughs and holds out his arms for Steve to climb into his lap. He wraps his arms around him and kisses him. “Okay then, it’s settled. When do you want to go?”

Steve tries to remember his work schedule for that next week, but his thoughts are a little slowed by the warm and gooey feelings he’s got filling him up. James wants to spend a weekend with him. He wants to take him away, show him his favorite place. Steve squirms happily in the other man's lap and tucks his face into his neck, inhaling the rich, clean scent of him and pleased as punch, because this means that James really likes him, and maybe even wants to make him a part of his life.

Jesus Christ, maybe Steve's actually, finally done it. Maybe he really has managed to scoop up the last remaining, non-married, high-value homosexual who actually wants to be in a serious relationship.

It's too good to be true!

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ha-18t · 2 days

Text

Oguro Kafka - Thanatophobia

Novel

Chapter 1

💬 Translation under the cut!

...

That day, I woke up in the same hospital room.

The seven year old me sighed. The bright white room was in the children’s ward of Daikoku Hospital. For as long as I could remember, I had been in and out of the hospital, but recently I had not been able to go back home at all. That house on the wharf was only faintly visible in my memory.

“I wonder if my father will visit today… or maybe my mother…”

I might have been physically sick, but that didn’t mean I was unhappy.

My family would always take time off of work to visit me. My father, who was the tourism director, and my mother, who was a scientist, would always visit my room.

The times when my mother would visit were always interesting - she was extremely well-informed and would always have a story to tell me.

My father was… Well, he would just tell me it was lonely without me in the house. But he would always do his best to express his feelings to me. That was how I received his love.

“But… I’m going to die someday, right?”

Looking out the window and into the clear sky above, I whispered that to myself.

I couldn’t go outside, I couldn’t go to school. I had no friends. I wasn’t the only one in the children’s ward, but it felt like everybody kept me at arm’s length. Well, it could have been because I didn’t act my age, or maybe because my family was a household name in HAMA.

“You’re a bit special.” My mother would tell me,

“But being special is a blessing, Kafka. If everybody was the same as you, what would make you stand out?”

But was that my mother’s belief? Or my own?

Either way, if my life ends early, what sort of blessing would my special-ness have given me? If I were to die right now, what would I even have been born for?

Neither of my parents showed up that day, so I asked for permission to go up to the rooftop garden.

Although the garden was simple, it had a bench for me to read and think on. That day, there was a small bird laying dead on the concrete. It must have hit something and fell. The little bird’s eyes were closed and it was completely limp.

‘Poor thing’, I thought for a moment. I thought it would be a good idea to bury it. But, I wasn’t sure if somebody as frail as I was should have been handling a dead, wild bird. I asked my nurse, who gave me a mask and gloves, and I buried it in the courtyard of the hospital.

Despite its sudden death, I didn’t think we were that different from each other. Just like the bird, I could have had a sudden heart attack, fell over, and died on the rooftop garden. And I would have just wanted the person who found me to be kind to me.

The nurse left, and I just stood there in front of the little bird’s grave. Suddenly, a shadow cast over me. I looked up and saw my mother, clad in her white uniform. She must have left work early.

“You buried a little bird?”

My mother definitely heard it from the nurse.

“Yes, it was dead.”

I was sure the bird was dead, but even through the gloves I could feel its body, heavier and warmer than I was expecting. It made me wonder if it was still alive.

“One day, will I also be like that bird?”

“….”

My mother suddenly fell silent, then asked me…

“What do you think it means to be ‘dead’?”

“Isn’t it when your heart stops beating?”

“Or, maybe when your thoughts stop?”

My mother took my hand and pulled me towards a bench in the courtyard so we could talk.

“Some people even believe that a person only truly dies when all memories of them are gone.”

With that said, my mother continued with the subject.

“The current Japanese medical definition for death is cardiac arrest, cessation of respiration, loss of the light reflex, and dilation of the pupils. Legally, you can define death as the cessation of respiration and a general inability to resuscitate.”

“Is animal death the same?”

“If we are only talking about physical death, then death can simply be defined as the irreversible departure from life.”

My mother led me to the bench and then sat down beside me.

The wind blew gently through the courtyard, and I could faintly smell chemicals from my mother’s work uniform. The scent was sterile, tranquil, and cold. I didn’t dislike it.

“So, yes. All life on Earth is dependent on carbon polymers. When you look at it that way, the process of dying isn’t that different between humans and other things on Earth. Either way, the body stops, decomposes, becomes microbial fertilizer, and leaves behind everything that isn’t usable.”

My mother talked about death so bluntly.

She stroked my head and asked me, “What do you think about death, Kafka?”

I thought for a moment, and decided to tell her what had been going through my mind.

“No matter what, all living things die… So I shouldn’t be afraid… but really, I’m not sure. Sometimes I feel as if I’m going to die, but I’m still alive.”

My mother kept stroking my head, and lapsed back into silence.

At some point, her hand stopped.

“I am… a thanatophobe. Death has always been… a huge fear of mine. When I was giving birth to you, I was terrified.”

The usually intense voice of my mother suddenly seemed so small. I looked up to meet her face, and she was staring far into space as if lost in thought.

But in a split second, my mother’s face turned to a smile.

She pulled me close to her chest and hugged me wistfully, squeezing my arms.

“Of course, I’m so happy that I gave birth to you.” She added.

“…But, I wish it had been a healthier birth. There are some things you only learn when you’re close to death. I know that from experience.”

It’s very rare for my mother to make such a negative statement. Rarely, and really only rarely, would my mother say something so gloomy. Only when she would talk about my body, or my death.

My mother and I look so much alike. My father would always say that. He’s so proud that I inherited my mother’s beautiful face and smarts. He wishes I wasn’t so sick though. He doesn’t say it, but I know he thinks it.

“Kafka, unlike me, there’s a major surgery you can have when you’re an adult. It’s possible to make a full recovery. If you live until 20, you will likely have a healthy future.”

“Unlike you…?”

“I…”

After saying that, my mother couldn’t get a clear word out. I didn’t know what to do. My mother had a job, but just like me, she was always bedridden and in and out of the hospital a lot.

“Kafka, let’s make a bet. If you live until 20, I’ll give you a surprise.”

“Huh?”

I wanted to ask her if she would be alive then, but I couldn’t get the words out.

These little bets that my mother and I would make were so much fun - like our own secret game.

It was always how she would try to lighten the mood.

Every single day felt the same. I would wake up in the same hospital room, and I would sleep in the same hospital room. In the midst of instability, I counted on these bets with my mother to get me at least a little excited about the future.

That’s why… I didn’t want to bet against my mother.

“I think it would be more fun to bet on what’s for dinner tonight.”

“Is that so?”

We bet that the hospital would have Jell-O. On the way to the cafeteria, my mother unexpectedly put her head to mine and whispered to me.

“Until your surgery at 20 years old… no, even after that… we can’t be afraid of death, Kafka. Death is simply a cessation of the physical being. The mind is much more complex than that.”

“Isn’t being so close to death and so terrified of it exhausting?”

“Having justifiable fears can add purpose to your life.”

My mother looked directly into my eyes and murmured, as if she was revealing the secret to life.

“If you live your life to the fullest, you’ll eventually be privy to the secrets of the world.”

“The secrets of the world…?”

When I repeated her, my mother let out a painful, wistful laugh.

“Whether knowing them is a blessing or a curse… That’s up to you to decide.”

My mother was trying to tell me something, but I didn’t understand.

The secrets of the world, huh. Are they that important? More important than unsolved mathematical formulas, undiscovered ideas, and the story of everything beyond our universe?

My mother, who has lived her whole life afraid of death… does she already know all the secrets of this world?

“Think it over, maybe while you’re fishing.”

My mother let go of my body and stood up quickly. I was caught up on her bringing up fishing so suddenly, but my mother just laughed and stroked my arm.

“There’s a fishing spot by the hospital, just through the courtyard. If you want to learn, your father can teach you.”

“Ehhh… I’m happy just playing on the computer.” I grumble.

“Let’s make a bet, then.” My mother says.

“Fishing is surprisingly heavy on the brain. You have to think about the tides, the wind, the temperature, the season, the bait. I bet you can’t catch more fish than your father. You wouldn’t think about that kind of stuff.”

When my mother wanted me to act upon something, she would always say ‘Alright, then I guess Kafka has thrown in the towel and I won the bet!’

“Alright! I’ll learn from my father, and I’ll make you proud!”

My mother just laughed out loud at my defiance.

The sunlight reflected off of her in the courtyard, making her hair and eyes sparkle.

Back then, she looked like the surface of the ocean on a sunny day, reflecting the light onto the pier.

...

#18trip #oguro kafka

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maikissed · 1 year

Text

the way you come to me at night III

Richarlison x reader

part I part II

I've litteraly made this into a messy multi-chapter story because I have like a thousand ideas and they're better than finishing it lol.

+18

- One year ago -

“Yeah, I can easily beat you at this” he frowned mockingly at Emerson before catching the basketball ball “Won’t give you a head start just because it’s your birthday”

His friend laughed at his comment, getting ready for their little bet, before a small group of people surrounded them out of nowhere. Richarlison staggered as somebody thrown his hand around his shoulders in a harsh manner.

“Yo, y/n is clearly enjoying the party” Marc laughed amused, pointing with his head in the direction of the grand salon.

He needed a moment to spot his friend and his eyes widened slightly when he realised she’s been the one dancing on the big table in the middle of the room. A large group of people around the table was clapping, chanting and whistling, apparently delighted with the little show she’s been putting on. He wondered if she had more than just a couple drinks, seeing as she was rather a timid person, not the one to be the centre of that kind of attention.

“Didn’t know she could move like that” Marc patted his shoulder blade with his hand and he send him a sharp disapproving look before heading in the direction of the enthusiastic gathering, pushing a few people out of the way to get closer.

Even he didn’t know that she could move like that as he watched her swaying her hips to the sides with her hands loosely up, completely absorbed by the heavy tunes of the rap song playing loudly. Good thing she wasn’t wearing a skirt.

“Hey, pretty girl!” he shouted to get her attention and she stopped, sending him a big smile as she finally spotted who called out to her “How about you get down now, huh?”

“Rich! I’ve been looking for you!” she gushed excitedly, reaching out to place her hands on his shoulders.

He grabbed her hips then firmly, helping her getting down. She giggled sweetly and huffed out of breath as he carefully placed her on the floor.

“I can see you’re having fun” he said sneaking his hand around her waist to keep her steady and she hugged him tightly, standing on her tiptoes.

She looked exhausted in fact, so he noted that she haven’t taken anything more than just a few way too strong drinks.

“Yes, but I’m tired” she muttered “Can you take me home?”

He nodded taking her hand in his.

As soon as they entered the cab she rested her head on his shoulder and started telling him a quite long and messy story about someone spilling a drink on somebody three times in only ten minutes, quickly switching the subject to how she won 20 pounds on arm wrestling bet with some guy. He just left for her 40 minutes and she managed to involve herself in some hazardous initiatives and danced on the table in front of everyone. He shook his head with an amused smirk on, listening to her unexpected stories very attentively. He wondered how much of all this will she remember in the morning and how long will she be whining about how ashamed of herself she was.

She jumped out of the cab as soon as they arrived at the residential and he quickly grabbed her stuff, trying to persuade the driver to wait for him so he can drive back to his place.

“Could you please wait here for a few minutes? I’ll be back shortly, I’ll pay extra for your time” he closed the door before the man could even differ with him.

“You wanna tuck me in in my bed?” she snickered when they entered the lift.

“I’m making sure that you end up in your bed” he countered laughing slightly at her dazed state.

Her eyes glinted with the alcohol haze, pupils dilated widely almost covering the whole iris as she bit her lip trying to hold back a smile. His eyes followed down her neck, wandering around her bare shoulders and chest, her skin glowed admirably and he scolded himself in his thoughts for looking at her like that. He turned his head rapidly when the doors of the lift opened.

“Thank you” she smiled lazily at him when he used her keys to let them in to her flat and he snorted lightly, still amused with her carefree exploits of this night.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed” he sighed entering the kitchen to take a bottle of water, following her into her bedroom shortly after.

“Do you think Emerson liked the gift?” she called from the bathroom as he sat on the small sofa placed opposite the bed.

“Yeah, he likes his shiny things”

He threw away the man’s jacket that hanged loosely over the armrest of the seat to the other side and exhaled heavily, taking a longer look at the garment. He wiped his face with his hand trying not to give it too much thought right now.

“Good, I hope he does”

He raised his head in the direction her soft voice came from, spotting her standing in the doorframe, wiping her face with a small towel, dressed in a little, sheer nightdress. She never felt too intimidated or discomfited with him owing that they quickly became truly comfortable with each other but the sight in front of his eyes in this moment stupefied him as he took in her whole appearance. Her attire was definitely intended for her boyfriend’s attention only and he shuddered thinking back to that damn jacket hanging from the couch on his left. His hand clenched into a fist on reflex after she disappeared in the bathroom again. He wondered if his uber left already.

“God my head is still spinning” he heard her complain before she turned off the light in the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

He fought to look directly at her face.

“Why don’t you stay the night?” she asked softly out of nowhere, clasping her hands behind her back.

His heart beat faster and he stood up quickly, heading into the bed, grabbing the bedding to pull it back for her to lay down so he didn’t have to look at her so unveiled in front of him. She sent him a playful smirk and sat down, letting him cover her.

“Your couch is very uncomfortable”

“You can sleep with me” she offered quietly, sending him another coy smile.

“I don’t think your boyfriend would like that” he sat down on the edge, placing the water on the nightstand.

“He’s in a different country” she shrugged watching him intensively.

“That’s still wrong” he concluded “He hates me already”

“I hate sleeping alone” she pouted rising up, moving closer to where he sat, placing her chin on his shoulder “Please?” she whispered leaning back, the cover slipped from her body and he gave in to temptation to take a quick glance down.

His head was spinning, the dress was almost see-through and he brought his eyes back up the moment he found himself staring at her protruding nipples.

She was drunk and all of this was utterly wrong. He should leave and let her sleep to sober up. He didn’t like the direction his thoughts were going.

But she appeared closer when he looked back at her face. She placed her hand very gently on top of his knee, as if to not scare him, and exhaled shakily. Her warm breath fanned over his face and he looked down at her beautiful, full lips, feeling himself growing weaker due to her closeness. She smelled sweet, like vanilla and candy and he closed his eyes, letting her get over all of his senses. He furrowed his brows and swallowed hard craving to touch her, claim her, make her all hot and bothered until she couldn’t even think straight. And he wouldn’t even fuck her properly yet. There were so many things he wanted do to her. But it was primal and wicked.

All of a sudden she closed the last distance between them and their lips touched delicately. He tensed, not really knowing what to do. She placed a soft kiss on his mouth and just like that he decided to let her take all control over him. She sensed him giving up and tilted her head to kiss him more firmly and he could feel himself growing more aroused. He was unbelievably hard already. She kept kissing him, not too ferociously but slowly and gently, very tantalizingly and he was loosing himself in her. Her hand still placed on his knee twitched slightly and he sighed at the pleasantly tingling feeling of her palm mildly roaming his thigh. But the moment she palmed him through his pants, moving her hand down and then up along his clothed shaft he went rigid and it awoken him, making him break the kiss and grasp her hand to stop her from going further.

She chased after him when he leaned back, looking at him almost pleadingly with her misty eyes, her mouth slightly ajar and lips red and swollen. Her chest was falling and rising unevenly, one strap of her nightie slipped off her shoulder and she looked so dreamy, so tempting to devour. But he would be taking advantage of her if he let it continue. So he stood up abruptly and she vaguely winced abashed and slightly disappointed.

“Sleep well, y/n” he muttered, his voice hoarse “I’ll see you tomorrow”

He didn’t want to leave her feeling rejected and regretful but it was the right thing to do. She had a boyfriend and they both weren’t in the right state of mind right now. He didn’t want them to act on something that will turn them uncomfortable or even distant the other day.

She proposed to meet for a lunch out the next day. He’s been preparing himself most of the morning for the conversation about what happened between them just a few hours ago but in fact, she didn’t even mention it at all. She acted extremely normal, like nothing happened actually, showing no real signs that it affected her the way it did him. He was trying to fathom if she didn’t really remember anything from last night, but that would be impossible since she wasn’t in a blackout state in the slightest. He should be glad, honestly, but it only made him feel more dejected.

Few days after that unforgettable night she came to him in his dreams for the first time. These tormenting visions seemed so real every single time, it made him bothered and breathless when he woke up overstimulated. He dreamed of kissing her on that bed, letting her touch him however she pleased as she whispered softly into his ear how badly she wanted him to take her. And he answered to her pleas without hesitation, undressing her from her lovely little nightdress she wore just for him, laying her down carefully on the sheets, proceeding to worship her body in the gentlest and sweetest of ways. His mind played tricks on him and he couldn’t escape it.

Two weeks later he found out during a simple conversation that she broke up with her boyfriend and it was confusing at first, since she didn’t mention it right away and most of the times she used to tell him everything. She didn’t really give him a straight answer about the reasoning behind her sudden decision. He worried that he must be the reason of the guilt she might have felt that led her to take such step. He was positive that she regretted what had happened between them, that’s why she never brought this subject up and tried to play it cool. So he tried to forget as well to make sure that their friendship won’t crack because of a momentary lapse. But it was difficult, especially since he started to see her so vivid in his dreams. At first it only happened once in a while but after she moved in with him as he proposed, the dreams intensified. The more time he spent around her, the more he fell in love with her.

#richarlison x reader #richarlison #richarlison one shot #richarlison imagine #richarlison imagines #richarlison smut #richarlison x you #richarlison x y/n #richarlison fluff #football imagine

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asherlockstudy · 9 months

Text

HEY FRIENDS

Literally one year ago I made a vague post and a few people asked me what I meant, but I felt a little drained at the time and never explained but as GME3 is fast approaching, I am re-emerging with the questionable decision to write my thoughts on GME2.

Bear in mind that some of the points might be negative as I have explained my conflicted feelings about this show before however don't let that discourage you from reading it because there's more to it than the negative points, trust me. Also, the post is GIF heavy so I put the rest of it under the cut.

GME2 thoughts:

Rhett and Link can’t tell the difference between an evening show and a soft Only Fans account. I didn’t mind anything in the show (except for that sex doll with the fucked up eyes that creep me out), I just...don’t understand completely: who came up with this project, how genuinely RandL like it and how it relates to their occasional irritation against shippers.

In other words, for people who proclaim they don’t understand why people ship them, acting out explicit fanfics is a bold decision to say the least.

Like, the whole concept of the show is for them to drink so their boundaries go down and then when somebody goes a bit off the rails, everyone is like “oh no” and facepalming. What’s up with that? Either embrace the concept of your show or don’t do it at all. I mean, nothing was truly much except for the fanfic enactment which was a bit much, if you ask me, perhaps mostly because I can’t tell how comfortable they are with it. Sometimes, especially Rhett just doesn’t look totally okay with it. So why do it? For the extra fee? Really? Wow. As an example, neither Rhett nor Link felt okay with sucking Chase’s toes and, guess what, Chase didn’t want it either. Who’s the mastermind behind all that... And has Chase gotten his raise yet?

Let’s go to Rhett. I might be wrong but I have noticed that for his size, Rhett is kinda a lightweight. One beer and his eyes are glassy, his cheeks round and red. In the last GME, he had refrained from drinking because he wanted to handle the situation in case Link lost it. This time, 7 shots and a few more drinks during the show weren’t enough to make him drunk, or as drunk as Link, or make him lose himself into the moment and have fun. Conclusion: Rhett is not very comfortable with this project. Rhett is afraid of Link being unhinged. Why is he afraid of an unhinged Link? What can Link say or do that Stevie wouldn’t be able to handle and he would have to step in? It’s plain throughout the show that Rhett is constantly concerned about what Link might say next. What on earth can a Southern ex-hardcore Evangelist married at 20 say that is giving Rhett nightmares?

Rhett confirming that Link does the fibonacci when he shaves his face lol Do they often talk about fibonacci shaving? Does he remember it from 20 years ago? How often does Link shave in the creative house? Questions, questions, questions...

Rhett fully knowing that Link had a story about hurting his dick. Link clarifying he meant one when he was alone. Rhett warning him “I am just looking out for you”. Thus, Rhett knowing Link hurt his dick when he was with somebody else and considered it a story that Link would regret revealing. So, is Rhett having nightmares because Link hurt his dick when he was with Christy and if so, why? No??? Notice Rhett getting lowkey tortured until Link finally wraps up his silly harmless story. He lost five years of life there.

Link saying he wishes his Christy buttcheek tattoo faded away... because “this would symbolise the long time they have been together”. Okay... all right.

Rhett confirmed as an ass man besides a vagina man. Like, just as he was saying he was always so fascinated by vaginas he almost gave them supernatural qualities, he now pretty much said the asshole is divine design! Link bumped Rhett’s shoulder at the mention of anal preference, pointing at him, once more giving Rhett a scare. (BTW the truth is Rhett is an #anything_goes man let’s be real XD)

Link non-verbally proclaimed them both “team ass” but not with Rhett’s consent.

Link said at two points in the aftershow that Rhett made him uncomfortable but I can’t for the life of me understand what he was talking about and it seems Rhett did neither. There was probably something that flew over my head entirely...

That’s just funny but Link in the end saying “After fucking all these years, we’re still surprising your ass”. This is not even a Freudian slip, this is a Freudian syntax! Next level shit XD Meanwhile Rhett:

#When ten drinks are not enough to save you from Link's syntax

And now let’s go to the sequence I was referring to in the previous (one year old) vague post:

The Bean daddy fic enactment was initially a thing of cuteness, indeed, but I have the suspicion there was more going on. Let’s see it step by step.

The cute thing started because Link somehow played the role of tentative Link shyly revealing his deeper feelings with exceptional skill. It was also cute when Rhett, while still impersonating fic!Rhett basically implored Link to not drop chocolate syrup on his clothes, hair and beard. He was having fun with it and he was being flirtatious and affectionate towards Link, though, again he was still supposedly imitating his fic version.

Link received passively Rhett’s flirty show, with moderate amusement. However, it is very important to note that he was nodding affirmatively throughout Rhett’s flirty request. He had a face saying “okay, I understand, I am not gonna drop the chocolate all over you”. That's important to keep in mind.

Notice how Rhett asks Link to take care how he'll pour the syrup in character while Link is amused but also nods affirmatively that he does not intent to screw Rhett's outfit.

As soon as Rhett trusts Link won’t screw him like that, he drops his head back and opens his mouth waiting for the chocolate syrup. Then Link tells him seriously to hold on, he immediately changes to a sexy imitation of Rhett’s open mouth, saying something like “I just want to acknowledge…” Rhett raises his head, “Yess???”, still in the flirty silly mood, probably believing Link is improvising within the fic’s context. But Link says: “Don’t assume the position just yet, because I would like to respond to that”. At this point, clearly Link doesn't follow the script. Rhett waits but he is still in the flirty amused mode. Link does this characteristic hand motion which means something very clear “All jokes aside, I want to talk about something serious now”. Rhett takes note of Link’s hand gesture but he still doesn’t drop his flirty persona. Link announces to Rhett: “This is a test.” Rhett is clearly too far gone enjoying the fic enactment. He nods without clearly understanding. “This is a test…”, he agrees, nodding, until finally his brain catches up. “………of whaaaaat?”, he asks half-fic like, half-suspicious.

Notice Link's serious gesture and Rhett becoming suspicious literally mid-sentence after Link says "this is a test".

Link starts to mouth something but immediately changes it and says slowly and cautiously: “Of my ability to be your true friend”. Rhett’s amusement is gone. He dismisses Link hastily, mumbling “I believe it” and assumes the position again. Link insists though, inching closer. “Because…”, he starts. Rhett immediately closes his mouth and turns to face Link alarmed. It seemed to me he felt vulnerable to wait there with an open mouth and Link so close.

Notice Rhett dismissing Link and how quickly he closes his mouth once Link gets closer.

Link continued slowly, trying to fill the lack of words with facial expressions translatable only to Rhett and not us. “Because… the most entertaining thing to do… would be…”. “No, no it actually wouldn’t be”, Rhett countered quickly and still somewhat softly but there was fear and panic in his eyes in that moment. My assumption is that he was still being soft in order to not rile up the mildly inebriated Link too much. Rhett continued: "It would be the opposite of what you're actually thinking".

Link tries to communicate with faces (including puckered lips) instead of fully formed sentences but Rhett understands. He's neither flirty nor amused anymore. He asserts what Link thought to do - the test, "the abilty of being his true friend", would have the exact opposite result from entertainement.

Link doesn't drop it just yet. He asks Rhett if he really knows what Link is thinking about. Rhett hums affirmatively. But Link says: "Cause I was thinking about being the hero by just putting it in your mouth and not getting it all over you. But now you are just telling me to get it all over you." Of course this is a lie. Rhett spent so much time making it clear he does not want syrup all over himself. Link nodded so many times, making it clear he understood and agreed. He made the gesture meaning "I am gonna talk about something different and more important". So, the test that he wanted to acknowledge that this whole skit was about was something different. But in the end he saw how negative Rhett was to the idea and quickly twisted his statements, now saying it was all about whether he would drop the chocolate on his...true friend or not, which makes no sense whatsoever as statements go and it is redundant, since it was established and agreed upon literally seconds before that he would not do it.. Rhett says something I can't catch, like "no, I know what you were thinking" or "no, you won't do what you're thinking" or something similar. Link then repeats in his twist of words that Rhett essentially urges him to drop the chocolate all over him and he has that rabid look he sometimes has near Rhett. Rhett then, again with his mouth open, says: "Okay, it's time. We've milked this moment enough". Rhett clearly tries to bring Link to his senses and avoid this moment lingering too much in people's memory.

Link is bummed at Rhett's refusal however not "wounded type" of bummed. I guess it was more like, tipsy Link threw an idea out there, Rhett reacted poorly to it and Link was done like "okay it's on you that this test won't happen" but then got on with everything without more drama.

What was that test?

Well, repeating Link's words:

I would just like to acknowledge... This is a test. Of my ability to be your true friend. The most entertaining thing to do... would be...

Does anyone know whether there was more in this fic? Perhaps something more in it that Link wanted to acknowledge but Rhett didn't want enacted?

Maybe what Link wanted to test as "potentially the most entertaining thng to do" was his initiative alone? And it would be proof of Link being Rhett's true... friend. And Rhett knew what Link had in mind but he was adamant that it would have the exact opposite effect on the audience than what Link expected.

Hmm. I leave you to your thoughts and your mental preparation for GME3.

#rhink #rhett and link #randl #r&l #gme #gme2 #good mythical evening #mythical

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dialovers-translations · 11 months

Text

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Kino Ecstasy [Epilogue]

ー The scene starts with the night sky

Yuuri: ...Fufu. What’s the matter, Kino...?

You’ve been running away the whole time...That’s nothing like you.

Why not use those powers you’re so pride of, huhーー!?

*Woosh*

Kino: ...Fufu. You fool...If I were to do that, I could send you flying the blink of an eye.

That wouldn’t be fun now, would it?

Yuuri: ...! Haah!

*Woosh*

*TIMESKIP*

*Woosh*

Kino: ...Kuh.

Yuuri: ...For someone as great as you, you seem to be struggling quite a bit against a ‘mere Ghoul’?

Why not get serious already?

Kino: ...I don’t want to. I hate it when people tell me what to do.

Yui: ...

( He isn’t just not using his powers. It’s that he can’t use them. )

( Because he knows that Yuuri-san will die if he does. )

( I’m sure that Kino-kun doesn’t want for that to happen. That’s why... )

Yuuri: ...I see. You leave me no other choice then. ーー !

*Woosh*

*Stab*

Kino: Kuh...!

ー Kino falls to his knees

*Thud*

Yui: Kino-kun!!

Yuuri: ...Fufu. You let your guard down, Kino...

Kino: ...Heh. Don’t get ahead of yourself because you managed to get a small scratch on me...?

Yuuri: This wouldn’t have happened if you had just used your powers right away.

You’ve always been like that...At the very end...You just can’t help but let the kind heart inside of you show.

That’s why...!

*Woosh*

Kino: Ugh...

Yui: Stopーー!!

Monologue

Yuuri lowered the blade in his hand towards me,

as I sat there knelt down in front of him.

I close my eyes.

For some reason, at that moment,

I suddenly remembered the day,

when I was taken to Yuuri’s home as a child.

I was so terribly afraid of everything and everyone...

but it was Yuuri,

who reached out his hand to me,

as I sat there shivering in the corner of the room.

Even though back then,

his hand was much smaller,

and way less reassuring than it is now.

But back then,

it was most definitely the hand which saved me.

In the end,

I don’t think I have the heart to kill Yuuri.

In which case...

...Even though I thought that way,

in the end, Yuuri’s blade never came down.

After allーー

*Cling*

Yuuri: ...

What do you think you’re doing...?

Kino: ( ...What? )

Richter?: I am sorry, but I am afraid your little game ends here. This man shall come with us, alive.

Yuuri: ...Excuse me? That’s not what you promised...!

Richter?: The bishop’s words are law. Those who stand in our way...ーー shall be erased.

*Woosh*

Yuuri: ...! Uwaaaahーー!!

Kino: ...!

Male Ghoul A: Yuuri!

Male Ghoul B: That was a low move...! How could you!

Richter?: You pesky Ghouls...Know your place.

*Woosh*

Male Ghoul A: !

Male Ghoul B: Uwaaaah!

Richter?: Can somebody else get Ayato from the dungeon? Also get rid of all remaining Ghouls.

I shall take care of Kino.

Male Clergyman A: Roger.

ー The men run off

Richter?: ...

ー Kino walks up to Yuuri

Kino: ...Yuuri?

Yuuri: ...

Kino: Hey, Yuuri. Talk to me...

Yuuri: ...

Kino: ...I thought you were going to kill me? You were talking big about it! How it’s your duty and all...

Answer me!

Yuuri: ...

Kino: ...Why...?

*Thud*

Richter: ...Well then, Kino. You shall be coming with me.

Kino: Yuuri...ーー!!

Monologue

Yuuri-san is dead.

Richter-san is the one who killed him.

ーー No, scratch that.

It’s that guy who we met in the Demon World before.

Someone who looks just like Richter-san, but is an entirely different person.

The large group accompanying him,

are the same people from before,

which I can only assume are associated with the Church.

At the hands of those men,

the remaining Ghouls dropped like flies.

I was unable to do anything,

simply witnessing the scene dumbfounded.

After a while,

once things had gone quiet once again,

I realized that Kino-kun,

was nowhere to be seen.

Yui: ( No way...Where is Kino-kun...? )

( I have to go after him...But what should I do...? )

Kou: Ah! M-neko-chan, found you~!

Yui: ...!

ー Kou and Laito run up to her

Kou: Fufu. Sorry for the delay! We’re here to come pick you up~

Yui: Kou-kun...Everyone...

Laito: Honestly, knowing that you are safe at the very least is what matters most~

Yui: ...But Kino-kun was taken away...

Shuu: Kino...? They took him with them as well and not just Ayato?

Yui: Exactly...I have to go after them right away, or I’m sure it won’t end well...

Kou: I’m pretty sure those guys are the same ones who hurt Ruki-kun before. In other words...

Shuu: ...The Church, huh...?

Yui: ...

I don’t know why, but it seems like the Church has been trying to get their hands on Ayato-kun for a while...

I have a bad feeling about it. Kino-kun might be in trouble as well...

Laito: Nfu~ Geez, Bitch-chan. Kino-kun this, Kino-kun that. Seems like you have quite the soft spot for that guy...

Yui: Eh!?

Laito: I love that slutty side of yours but...I’m pretty sure Ayato-kun will be disappointed in you.

Yui: ...That’s not true. Ayato-kun is long aware.

Laito: Eeh!? Hold on, time out~! What do you mean by that!? What on earth happened!?

Shuu: Haah...Shut up. Who cares about that. Right now we have to focus on Ayato instead.

Anyway, now that Ayato is in their hands, we have to act as well.

I don’t want this whole situation to get even more sticky.

Laito: In other words, we’ll go pick a fight with the Church?

Shuu: Yeah, that’s what it boils down to...

Kou: In that case, let’s go kick their butt real quick~!

Laito: In that case, I’ll be in charge of bringing Bitch-chan to safety. Well then, shall we go?

Yui: W-Wait...! Can’t I come along as well...?

Shuu: You’ll go to the Church...?

Yui: I realize that I might only get in the way...but I’m worried about the two of them...

Shuu: ...

...Do as you please?

Laito: ...Shuu!?

Yui: ...! Thanks, Shuu-san!

Shuu: ...However, prepare yourself.

Yui: Eh...?

( What does he mean by that...? )

Shuu: Haah...Let’s go.

Kou: Roger~! Come on, off we go, M-neko-chan!

Yui: Y-Yeah...!

ー The scene shifts to the dungeon at the Church

*Cling*

Male Clergyman A: Come on, get in.

*Rustle*

Kino: ...!

*Thud*

Kino: ...Ow...

*Rattle*

Monologue

After being taken away from the scene,

I was thrown into the Church’ dungeon,

together with Ayato.

The cell had been induced,

with an anti-magic seal,

which those guys happen to be such experts at,

so my powers were completely blocked.

However,

I no longer gave a damn.

I couldn’t even bring myself,

to put those guys from the Church through hell,

in an attempt to avenge Yuuri’s death.

I mean, even if I were to do that,

Yuuri won’t come back to life.

It’d only make me feel even more empty inside.

Revenge is pointless.

That’s what Yui told me before.

However...

I didn’t think,

this would be how I finally,

come to realize the truth in those words.

Kino: ...

( It’s my fault. I should have never gotten involved with the Church... )

( ...But I guess it’s too late for regrets now... )

*Rustle rustle*

Kino: ( ...It’s too late. For everything... )

Ugh...

Ayato: ...Oi, Kino. Are you awake?

Kino: ...I am. You really think I can sleep on this hard of a bed?

Ayato: Hah. What’s that? I thought you were feelin’ down but you seem to be doin’ just fine.

Kino: ...Not really. I’m not feeling down or anything.

Ayato: Say. What do you think the Church will do with us?

Kino: Good question. Beats me. They’ll probably execute us to show off their own power?

I mean, I don’t care about what they’ll do.

Ayato: Haah? You don’t care...? It’s your problem as well though, isn’t it!?

Kino: ...

Ayato: Che, cat got your tongue, huh? God, my big bro really doesn’t know what he wants, huh?

Kino: ...Eh?

( Did he just...refer to me as his big bro...? )

Ayato: Ah? I’m not wrong, am I? I mean, you’re the one who introduced yourself as such.

Kino: ...I did, but...

Ayato: I mean, I did think it smelt fishy at first. For that shitty Old Man to have a secret lovechild...

But you know, I don’t know why, but right now, I’m pretty sure that you’re speaking the truth.

I mean, you’re just like my other brothers. Like how you’re a huge pain in the ass.

Kino: ...Excuse me...?

( Brothers... )

( Exactly. This guy, as well as the other Sakamaki’s, we all share the same blood... )

( We’re all sons of Karlheinz... )

ー Somebody approaches the cell

Ayato: ...! Richter...!?

Richter?: Kino. The Bishop is waiting. You shall be coming with me.

*Clatter*

Richter?: ...Come here.

Kino: ...What if I say no?

Richter?: The Bishop’s word is law. ーー Come.

*Thud*

Kino: Guh...!

Ayato: ...! Lay it off!

Richter?: ...Ayato. You shall stay there and behave.

That is what the Bishop wants...

Kino: ...That hurts! Let me go!

ー Kino is taken away

Ayato: ...The fuck was that just now...?

That guy...isn’t Richter...

ー The scene shifts to the Church

*Creaaak*

Kino: For the millionth time, let me go!

Richter: ...

*Thud*

Kino: Uwah...!

ー Kino drops to the floor

???: Fufu, so you are here...

Richter?: My sincere apologies for the wait, Bishop...

Kino: ...You’re the Bishop...?

Bishop: Yes, exactly. Well then, Kino. Let us get started right away.

Kino: Start what... ーー !?

Male Clergyman A: Hold him down!

Male Clergyman B: We’ll hang him from that cross!

After being crucified,

I was surrounded by a strange group of men clad in white.

Judging from their appearance which reminded me of scientists,

I could only assume,

that they were not actually part of the Church

Kino: What’s going on here, huh?

Bishop: Fufu. We would like to show a certain technique we have developed to you...

Kino: Haah? Excuse me?

Do you guys have to do that sort of stuff now as well? What happened to worshipping God, huh?

Bishop: Oh, not at all. It’s just that we realized...

Why is it that we had no other choice but to submit to Demons? Because we do not have any magic ourselves, that is...

Even with modern science at our disposal, it was difficult to create magic.

After many experiments, the most we could do was seal away someone else’s powers...

Kino: Heh, well duh...Magic isn’t something which can be ‘crafted’.

Bishop: Exactly. You are absolutely right.

That’s why we decided to take a different route.

Kino: A different route...?

( What does he mean by that...? )

Bishop: If we cannot create magic.

Why not make those with magic submit to us and have them use their powers for our own benefit?

In other words...All we need is create Demons who will act as our loyal servants. Take Richter over there, for example.

Kino: ...!

Richter: ...

Kino: ( Then, this guy is actually Richter...who should have died back then...? )

...So that’s why you went to retrieve his corpse, huh...?

Bishop: Aah, yes. We revived him using the power of modern science. As our watchdog...

The era in which us humans get to take revenge on Demons has come at last...

But to achieve that, we need a couple of more slaves...

Kino...Ones which have strong powers like you, do you understand...?

Kino: ...!

( These guys...So that’s why they...! )

Male Clergyman A: ...Bishop, excuse us. The Vampires in question are standing in front of the Church...

Kino: ...Vampires...?

Bishop: ...Excuse me? Fufu...I see.

If they want to willingly sacrifice themselves, fine by me. Let them in.

Male Clergyman A: Roger!

Bishop: Seems like your brothers and Vampire comrades have come to visit us.

I can only assume that the ‘Chosen Eve’ is with them as well.

Kino: ...!

( Yui... )

Monologue

Standing in front of the open door,

I instinctively came to a halt.

Surrounded by a bunch of men dressed in white,

Kino-kun seemed to have been attached,

to some kind of weird cross statue.

Furthermore,

standing right next to him...was a man,

I did not expect to see in the slightest.

Kino: ...! Why did you come here!?

Yui: Kino-kun...

( What on earth...is going on...? )

Shuu: Hah...You freak...

Bishop: Fufu, run your mouth all you want...

Yui: ( ...I’m sure of it...That man is... )

Male Clergyman B: Bishop, everything is ready.

Bishop: ...I see. I suppose this is a good opportunity for you guys to witness the show.

Of how Kino is turned into our loyal dog...through this wonderful technique created by us humans...

Monologue

That man who goes by the title of Bishop,

is Komori Seiji.

ーー My Father, who had supposedly gone missing.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #kino #lost eden #diabolik lovers translation #lekinoecstasyepilog

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the-cult-of-riley · 3 months

Text

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Seventeen)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N: Simon is secretly a big sap, confessions are made and Charlotte has some… fun with Simon >:)

Nine Inch Nails - I Would For You

What a pathetic string of words

Just leave them lying on the floor

The warning posted on the door

Not over here, not anymore

There was a place that could have been

Step over all that used to be

Since you have let yourself come in

Some things I'd rather you not see

See, I keep lying to myself

Don't know what else there is to do

If I could be somebody else

Well, I think I would for you

Didn't it seem like something more?

So long, I can't remember when

All this has happened all before

And this will happen all again

And I only have myself to blame

See, I keep lying to myself

Don't know what else there is to do

If I could be somebody else

Well, I think I would for you

See, I keep lying to myself

Don't know what else there is to do

If I could be somebody else

Well, I think I would for you

There’s a blissful moment just before you wake up where you aren't quite asleep but you're not awake either. It's this quiet space, a liminal space in your mind where you just linger for a while before you fully wake up. Simon felt like he was suspended in time and space, enjoying the feeling of the best kind of blankness. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware it was later than he usually got up, yet he felt no urgency to force himself to wake fully. Had he booked the day off? Was it weekend? He couldn't tell you, couldn't fucking remember.

A warm tingle started in his toes and swept up his entire body, making him hum softly in delight. He was unsure what the feeling was, yet he found himself wanting more of it. It happened again but it felt more intense, his stomach tightening as it ripped through his entire being and his eyes flew open with a ragged moan. He was dazed and confused, eyes frantic and wide as they darted around the room, only to find his girl between his legs, sucking on his very hard cock. Another needy moan left him as he watched her, feeling vulnerable in his half asleep state. She let his cock slip from her mouth with a pop, those blue eyes scanning his face carefully.

“Good morning, handsome,” she smiled, not giving him a chance to reply before she dove right back in and took him all the way in until he hit the back of her throat.

A choked gasp tore from him, his hand flying to her head and holding her there for a moment as she spasmed around him. He released her and she went back to bobbing her head up and down, her soft, warm, velvety mouth massaging his cock for all it was worth and he couldn't hang on to save his life, not when she’d cornered him in the dazed state he was in.

“That's it, just like that,” he moaned roughly, back arching as the pleasure increased at a rapid rate. She looked beautiful with her hair all mussed from sleep, her hazy blue eyes on him as she sucked on his cock like she was hungry for it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck,” he groaned, eyes rolling back into his head as he exploded, spilling himself right down her eager throat.

The room was spinning and he couldn't get his bearings, he felt like he’d been washed out to sea and his body was shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. He started to come back down to earth when she lay beside him, a bright smile on her face as she tentatively touched his cheek, turning his head to her. He leaned into the touch, seeking her out, needing her. She seemed to sense his neediness and hooked her leg over him, pulling him closer as their bodies entwined.

“Happy birthday, Si,” she beamed and his heart softened, the world finally righting itself as he looked at her. It was his birthday, that was why he was off. Didn't feel much different now being 24.

“Thanks, love,” he replied with a lazy smile, reaching out and smoothing her hair away from her face.

“What d’you want for breakfast?” she asked, allowing her hand to trail over his face as he’d once done to her, tracing over every feature with a featherlight touch.

“Not fussed,” he shrugged, not really wanting her to get out of bed.

He hadn't really planned anything for his birthday, he never really bothered with it much to the chagrin of Tommy and his mum. Lottie hadn't had any of it though, telling him that even if they just stayed home, she fully planned to celebrate him. It touched him enough that he'd allowed her to plan what she wanted but he wasn't sure if he'd given her too much power. She informed him the night before that they'd be going to a club later on but she was being all hush hush about most of it and he was unsure why. For the most part though, the day would be spent at home with her as per his request and she seemed content with that.

“Come on, babe, pick,” she pouted and his heart jumped erratically at her words. Babe, that was a new one. He'd never been called babe before, didn't think he'd like it much and yet here he was, butterflies making his stomach feel like it might fall out of his arse.

“Wouldn't say no to some bacon and eggs,” he murmured softly, eyes affectionately soft as he looked at her little proud smile that she'd got him to answer her question.

She sat up and he watched, feeling forlorn that she wouldn't be laying with him anymore, placated for a moment as she leaned down and placed a sweet kiss to his lips. She hopped off the bed and he went to grab her, just missing her by a millimetre.

“I didn't get to return the favour,” he frowned as it suddenly dawned on him.

“You don't need to. It's your birthday and I wanna take care of you,” she replied, smiling at him as she pulled his shirt off the floor over her head.

“Lottie…” he started, fully intent on having to give her the lecture once again about how him ‘taking care’ of her wasn't a burden to him. In fact, he very much enjoyed it.

“Simon,” she replied, using the same tone with a mock stern impression of him that made his eyes narrow. “I'm fine, you can touch me all you want after breakfast but I'm feeding you, so get over it,” she cocked a brow at him and he found himself slightly speechless by her sass, watching as she left the room and left him there alone. He had half a mind to put her over his knee and show her just what that attitude got her.

Having no use in laying in bed alone, he heaved himself up, moving to get into some boxers and sweatpants. He left himself shirtless, knowing his girl liked it and wanting to give her something to look at. He caught his reflection on the mirror on the wall and he ran a hand through his hair. It was getting a bit longer and he knew he'd need to cut it again soon. Didn't half love it when she tugged on it though when he was devouring her sweet cunt. He moved out of the room, seeing her in the kitchen area humming to herself as she cooked. He allowed himself to stand in the doorway and just admire her for a moment. He was sure she was humming a Placebo song but he wasn't sure which one and she danced to her own humming, turning the bacon in the pan. He loved watching her like this, unguarded and utterly beautiful, when she didn't know he was watching. He crept up behind her, sneaking his arms around her and making her yelp.

“Jesus fucking… you need a bell!” She chided, sagging against him as a hand went over her chest like she was about ready to have a heart attack. He chuckled, nuzzling her neck and inhaling her scent deeply.

“Sorry, love,” he mumbled against her skin before kissing it, making her squirm against him.

“You don't sound too sorry,” she pouted, a whine leaving her lips when he kept planting slow and wet kisses to the side of her neck. He laved at the skin with his tongue, a growl rumbling in his chest at something primal in him, something tugging at him to fuck her raw, make her his over and over.

“Simon,” she whined again, trying to wriggle from his grasp but he held her still.

“Thought it was my birthday,” he knew he was playing dirty with his words but he was fucking hard again already and he wanted her. She scoffed, turning her head to send him a glare and he flashed her a grin.

“I know what you're up to, Sergeant Riley and it won't work. I've got plans for you later so I suggest saving yourself,’ she muttered. He really wanted her but now he was well and truly intrigued.

“Plans?” He asked, roguish smile tugging at his lips as a myriad of thoughts ran through his head at a rapid rate.

“Yep,” she smirked, popping the p loudly. “I wanna try something… new. But it's a surprise, so behave yourself and sit down,” she pointed with the spatula to the dining table and he sighed, nodding like the obedient little dog he was. Damn his curiosity.

Breakfast was delicious and he devoured it with gusto, taking note of her little smile as she kept glancing at him. She only had bacon, not as hungry as him it seemed and she hopped out of her seat when she finished before him. He watched her go into the bedroom curiously as he finished his food and then she came bounding back in. She plonked into the seat beside him, a bright smile firmly in place as she put a wrapped present on the dining table. He blinked at it for a moment as if he'd never seen such a thing, he hadn't really considered she'd get him something.

“You didn't have to, love,” he murmured, glancing from the present to her. She tilted her head with such a condescending look on her face. He figured she felt smug at what she was about to say given the fact he was the one always saying it to her.

“I wanted to. Now shut up and open it,” she snorted, pushing it closer to him. She was clearly excited but there was a nervous energy about her that he picked up on, noticing how she was nibbling her lower lip.

He tore open the plain blue wrapping paper, brows rising and eyes widening a little at the box he found underneath it. He didn't need to open it to know what item lay inside, the name Cold Steel written on the box. Some kind of knife. He opened the box and his breathing felt like it ceased altogether. It was the AK-47 field knife and it was one he'd had his eye on for a bit. He got it out of the box, weighing it into his hand before twirling it expertly. Fuck, it felt good and he knew it would make a good addition to his collection.

“Is it… is it okay? I wasn't quite sure what knife to get you but I figured a tactical one would be good,” she rambled anxiously and he tore his eyes away from the knife, landing on the pretty girl in front of him. Truth be told, she was the best gift he could ever ask for and he never needed another thing in his life. He did love the knife though and it warmed his heart that she knew him so well that her choice had been one from his own personal wish list.

“It's perfect, sweetheart… You're perfect,” he breathed, raw honesty in his voice as he reached out and stroked her cheek. She flushed furiously, ducking her head with a shy smile.

“No one's perfect, Simon,” she muttered shyly and he gripped her chin, making her look back up at him.

“I beg to differ,” he smirked, raising a brow at her. She huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes playfully.

“If anyone’s perfect here, it’s certainly not me,” she murmured, giving him an obvious once over that had his ears burning.

She got up to grab the dishes but he stopped her, arms around her as he pulled her onto his lap sideways. She laughed lightly as her arm went around his neck to steady herself and he just smiled up at her. He pulled her in for a kiss, taking his time as his tongue languidly toyed with hers. She smoothed a hand over his chest and he moaned softly, a hand digging into her thigh greedily. She pulled away with an amused grin.

“Stop trying to seduce me, I told you to wait,” she smirked, tapping him on the nose before she jumped up and scooped up the plates.

The day seemed to fly by despite doing nothing but snuggling on the couch together like he wanted. It had been the most relaxed and calming birthday he’d ever had and it had been nice to just take a step back and do nothing for once. He’d mentioned he fancied a curry so they wound up getting Indian for tea, a new place that was now his new favourite and his dupiaza was fucking delicious. When 7 pm rolled around, Charlotte glanced at the clock before peeling herself away from him.

“I’m gonna start getting ready. It's a nice place by the looks of it, found it on the internet,” she started, glancing him over and looking deep in thought. He wondered why she'd picked somewhere other than the usual pub they went to. He wasn't typically a club person if he was honest but she obviously picked it for a reason.

“Your black jeans should be good… maybe a nice shirt or something,” she mused and he realised it must be a nice place if he needed to wear a shirt.

“Alright, you get ready first, it won’t take me long,” he murmured, curious as to what she planned to wear and where the fuck they were going. She nodded, pecking him on the lips before prancing off to the bedroom.

He lounged for a little longer, watching TV as he waited for her to come back. He didn't need to do his hair and he certainly didn't plan on wearing make up, so he only really needed to get his clothes on. He’d be ready in like 5 minutes. The bedroom door opened and he glanced at her, doing a double take as his eyes almost bugged out of his head. If he was in a cartoon, his jaw might have been on the floor. There wasn't an inch of her the black dress wasn't hugging tightly and it was so short that he almost marched her back to the bedroom and demanded she put pants on. He didn't though, he wasn't about to be a possessive arsehole who told her what she could and couldn't wear. Besides, he very much liked the view. He just hoped no one else fucking did.

“What do you think?” she asked, twirling with a pretty smile on her face. She’d done her make up all pretty, smokey eyes making them stand out more and brown lipstick on her pouty lips. Her wavy hair was half up in some kind of braid, the rest flowing past her shoulders. Combined with the tiniest black dress in the world and some black wedges, she was certainly a sight.

“Look divine, sweetheart,” he hummed, moving to stand and walk over to where she stood blushing.

He still towered over her even with the heels and she blinked those long, dark lashes up at him, making his stomach feel all funny. He took a moment, his dark eyes really taking her in and he couldn't believe he’d landed a girl like her, couldn't quite understand what she saw in him. He wanted to kiss her but didn't want to ruin her makeup so he settled on kissing her cheek, making her beam a smile at him.

“I’ll go get ready, won’t be long,” he said before slipping off into the bedroom.

He kept to his word, being ready in 4 minutes, black shirt, black jeans and his boots on. He’d splashed a bit of his cologne on for good measure and that was the extent of his grooming. His curiosity over where they were going was burning in him as he went back into the living area and he got a wolf whistle for the first time ever in his life. He hated how he blushed like a little girl when he snorted at her.

“Fuck off,” he muttered, making her laugh as she walked over to him. He had no idea how she could walk in the heels she was in. He'd never actually seen her in heels before when he thought about it, always those Docs she seemed to live in.

“Ready?” she asked eagerly, now in her leather jacket too. Fuckin’ hell, he wanted to bend her over and fuck her into next week, but he remembered her promise of plans later on.

“Ready,” he nodded, not bothering with a jacket of his own. It wasn't too cold despite it being the start of November and he always ran a bit hot. She took his hand, lacing their fingers together before they both left and got into the elevator.

She told the taxi driver where to go and he wound up in a part of town he’d never been before. They got out and she led him down the street, other people milling about and enjoying the night. The clubs looked a little more upscale, certainly not a place a man like him would go to. He kept quiet, trying to figure out just why they were coming here and when she stopped outside a sleek looking club, he saw the purple neon sign over the door reading ‘Pleasure Paradox’.

His brows raised and he allowed her to guide him to the door, two massive bouncers giving them a once over before nodding and allowing them entry. He wasn't sure what he’d expected when she said she was taking him to a club but it sure as shit wasn't this. The first thing he noticed were the naked dancers on stage, dancing a pole and somehow making it look elegant and not cheap like the place he’d been to for Tommy's bachelor party. Everything was black, purple and silver, looking high end and a lot of the men in full blown suits.

He felt a little out of place even in his nice jeans and shirt. It didn't escape him how some people were blatantly getting it on in the booths and he glanced at Lottie to see if she noticed, but she seemed dead set on finding the bar. He got dragged along by his hand until she stopped, waiting patiently to be served as the bartender went around tending to people.

“Lottie…” he murmured carefully, drawing her attention and making her nod. “A sex club?” he asked quietly, not wanting to offend anyone that wanted to be here.

He knew they got up to all sorts of kinky shit but this felt a bit weird, like something they should have discussed beforehand and she’d always been good at that sort of shit. She never sprang shit on him, always wanted the green light to go ahead, especially after learning of his inexperience. This whole thing just rubbed him the wrong way and he wasn't sure why. She laughed, the sound slightly nervous as a blush crept up her cheeks. She opened her mouth to say something when this swanky wanker in a black and red suit sidled up to her, far too close for Simon’s comfort, especially when he was still holding her fucking hand, making it obvious she was with him.

“What are you two having to drink?” he asked and when he settled a hand on Lottie’s shoulder, Simon’s vision almost went black. He clenched his jaw so tight that his teeth started to ache, his eyes zeroed in on the hand on his girl.

“Oh… uh…” Charlotte turned to him, her eyes pleading like she was unsure what to say and he hated, no, fucking loathed the fact he was so soft for her that he went along with whatever bullshit she was pulling on him.

“Bourbon,” he grit out and the man nodded, waving over the bartender as he looked at Lottie questioningly. The man must be someone important since the bartender ignored all the others who had been waiting longer and went straight for Mr Prick.

“I don't know what to have, maybe one of the cocktails?” she sounded so unsure of herself and he was left once again baffled why she was even here.

“You seem like a Cosmopolitan kind of girl,” the man smirked, giving the bartender the order. It took less than a minute and a glass was being shoved in his hand by the man who was far too touchy for his own good.

“Benedict,” he grinned with a tip of his head and of fucking course the twat was called Benedict. The fuckers full name was probably something pretentious like Benedict Montgomery the fucking third.

“I’m Charlotte, this is Simon,” Lottie flashed the man a smile that had Simon’s blood suddenly feel like lava running through his veins. His hand was still holding hers in a death grip, drink in the other and he took a large gulp of it, tugging her a little closer possessively. The man seemed to notice the move, eyeing Simon’s hand around Lottie’s and then he looked back at Simon with a patronising smile.

“First time swingers then?” he asked wryly and Simon blinked dumbly at him.

Swingers. This was a fucking swingers club. There was something that felt akin to betrayal that shot through him violently as his eyes darted to Charlotte but she’d looked over at the booths across the room and he couldn't see her face. Was she avoiding him?

“I wouldn't mind sharing her with you,” the man smirked smoothly and Simon heard ringing in his ears.

He clutched his glass so hard he thought it might shatter in his hands and when Charlotte laughed it only made it worse. He felt like he couldn't breathe. He wanted to deck the fucker, punch all of his perfectly straight teeth right out of his mouth. He didn't though. This club was clearly different, the man was just going along with it. He was the odd one out here and for a moment, he wondered why the hell Charlotte had brought him here.

He felt sick as he slammed his glass down, letting go of her hand and storming away from them as he weaved through the sea of bodies. He sucked in a greedy lung full of air when he got outside but his feet didn't stop. The urge to get as far away as possible burrowed deep into his skin. He wasn't used to this feeling, this weird burning in his chest that scorched him from the inside out.

“Simon! Simon, wait!” She called after him. He stopped, unable to keep going at her plea, but he didn't turn around. His whole body was held taut like a string about to snap, his hands clenched to fists by his side as he took in a shaky breath.

“The fuck was this then? Am I not enough for you now?” He growled harshly as he turned around. He really couldn't help the burning insecurity and betrayal he was feeling at the idea she wasn't happy with him anymore, that she needed to bring in someone else. Hurt flashed across her face making her look as though he'd just struck her.

“What? No! I-I didn't even…” she tripped over her words and something stabbed him deep in the chest when her lower lip trembled, her eyes glazing over with tears.

“I didn't know the club was like that. I just… I wanted to bring you ‘cause of the dancers, I thought you'd like it. I never meant for that to happen, that wasn't what I wanted,” she blurted, her voice wobbling as she wiped her eyes furiously. It made the makeup smudge around her eyes and guilt shot through him like a 7.62mm bullet. What a right bastard he was to make her cry like this, to hurt her fragile feelings. He believed her too, believed she hadn't brought him here to try and bring someone else into their bedroom because he could see the sincerity all over her face. But then her words replayed in his brain and he frowned.

“Why would you think I'd wanna see the dancers?” He asked her, watching how her cheeks flushed as she looked away. She wrapped her arms around herself in the way she did when she was trying to distance herself. His frown deepened as he took a few steps towards her.

“I… I don't know. They're… different… New and exciting, I guess. I thought you'd like it, they're pretty,” she murmured quietly. He blinked at her, his chest feeling heavier by the second as he took in her demeanour. He’d seen her look self conscious a fair few times, no doubt a result of her upbringing and then her twat of an ex, but this was different. She looked like a wilting flower and it physically hurt him.

“New and excitin’? You think that's what I want?” he asked carefully, his voice thick as his throat constricted. She opened her mouth before snapping it shut again, a distraught look crossing her face.

“I don’t want you to get bored of me,” she admitted quietly, her eyes full of pain and her cheeks pink. It felt like his chest caved in and he tilted his head as he gave her an incredulous look.

“Why the fuck would I get bored of you, love?” he asked with a shake of his head.

He tried to keep his voice soft because the poor girl looked ready to shatter at a moment's notice. He watched it happen right before his eyes as she looked down, a small sob ripping from her lips that broke his black heart in two. He wasted no time in stepping into her space, cupping those pretty cheeks that were stained with her tears and makeup. He tilted her face to look at him and she scrunched her face up as more tears fell, looking like she’d just been shivved.

“Everyone gets bored of me, Simon. Ethan, Jessica, even my mum and dad. Everyone reaches a point where they just… don’t care anymore. And I don’t… I don’t want that to happen with you,” she cried softly and he wrapped his arms around her, caging her against his chest as he stroked the back of her head.

His poor sweet girl had been through far too much bullshit for the sweet little thing she was. Hearing the venom that was poisoning her mind made him feel physically sick, not knowing how long those thoughts had been burrowing in her mind like a fucking parasite. He tried to figure out an appropriate response in his head, not wanting to come out with something that would make the situation worse. She was fragile right now, that much was clear and it was his job to glue her back together. Words were hard for a man like him, always had been, so he decided to show her something instead.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go back home, need to show you somethin’,” he murmured. She blinked her tearful eyes at him looking confused but she nodded. Maybe she was grateful to get away from prying eyes in the street or away from the damn club that started all this bullshit, but he was glad she didn't ask questions.

Getting the taxi back, Simon felt nerves bloom in his belly at what he was about to do. He’d do it for her. Do it because she needed reassurance, do it because she needed him and there wasn't a world where he wouldn’t do whatever she needed of him. He led her inside their place, shutting the door behind her. She kicked off her heels, a morose look on her face that reminded him of the day they met.

This wasn't exactly how he thought his relaxing birthday would go but something in him told him this was a long time coming and what he was about to do really needed to happen. He moved behind her, gently taking her jacket off and hanging it on the hook by the door.

“Sit down, yeah,” he gestured with his head to the sofa and she complied, padding over and slumping down. He looked at her for a moment before wandering into their room, crouching beside the bed before pulling out a shoe box. He got back up and wandered out to the living area, moving to sit next to her. Even with makeup smeared around her red rimmed eyes she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid his eyes on. Her blue hues darted to the box in his hands and he set it on her knee, making her confusion grow.

“Open it,” he urged, trying to ignore the huge spike of fear that shot through him at his own words. He was about to make himself the most vulnerable he’d ever been and it fucking terrified him.

She looked at him warily for a second before prying the lid open and setting it on her other side on the couch. She blinked at the contents before starting to pull some things out to look at. The first thing was a receipt for the stuffed dinosaur he’d gotten her from the museum. The next was the movie tickets from when they went to see Final Destination 3. Every receipt from Cafe Metro where she’d scribbled a little note on them for him, every letter she’d written him when he was deployed, a picture of the pair of them with Tommy and Beth from Beth’s birthday, a picture of her and his mum in his mum’s garden as they both planted some flowers. She pulled out the strip of pictures they’d had done in a photo booth, one of which he’d cut off and put in his wallet, wanting to carry it with him wherever he went. The last thing she pulled out from the very bottom was the bus tickets dated from the night they met. Her eyes snapped to him, glassy and shining in the light.

“You kept all this?” she asked incredulously, her eyes searching his face before she shoved everything back in the box. He felt the blush dusting his cheeks but he tried to ignore it.

“I did… Kept it ‘cause… ‘cause I love you, Lottie,” he admitted, his voice wavering as he uttered those words he’d held in for so long.

He thought he’d broken her for a long moment as she stared at him without blinking. Started to worry him, started to think he’d fucked it all up by telling her, but then a blinding smile overtook her face and he didn't think he’d ever seen her so radiant. Gone was all the earlier sadness, all the self doubt, in its place was pure happiness that made him feel like a grenade had gone off in his chest and left nothing in its wake.

“You love me?” she asked hopefully, wide eyes sparkling at him.

“I do. Have for a long time,” he breathed, feeling terrified and relieved all at once now it was out in the open. “And I’m not expectin’ you to say it back, that's not why I said it. I just… you got no need to worry about me gettin’ bored of you, Charlotte. You're… everythin’ to me. You’re my reason to exist, my fuckin’ oxygen. I’d never get bored of you for as long as I’m still walkin’ the earth,” he implored, baring his bloody and beating heart for her, on his knees begging her not to crush it.

The box got plonked on the floor and then she was on him, on his lap as her lips claimed his with such desperation it made his head spin. He kissed her back hungrily, hands gripping her hips as she pressed herself impossibly close to him. When she pulled away, she was still smiling and he knew that this was all he wanted in life. He didn't care about anything else, all he wanted was her.

“I love you too,” she smiled and it was his turn to stare unblinking for a moment. He thought maybe he’d heard wrong, but then she gripped his cheeks, radiant smile still painted on her perfect lips. “I’ve loved you for ages but I was scared of saying it. Thought you’d run off,” she snorted with a blush and his whole body sagged in relief.

“Guess we’re both fuckin’ idiots then,” he replied and she laughed, moving to press her face in his neck, nuzzling him.

He sighed in content, a blazing warmth starting in his chest and warming up every crevice of his being. She loved him back, had done for a while. He couldn't even place the emotion he was feeling right now, a happiness he’d never quite experienced before. He held her tightly, hand splayed on her back to keep her close as he pressed his nose to her hair.

He felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders now. He’d said it and she’d said it back. He didn't have to bottle it up and keep it to himself anymore, he could tell her every time he got the fucking urge, which was all the fucking time, and it wouldn’t be a problem. She loved him. For some reason unknown to man, Charlotte loved the mess that was Simon Riley and he couldn’t be fucking happier about it.

“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday,” she murmured against his neck and his fingers rubbed her scalp.

“Didn’t ruin anythin’, love,” he replied, using the grip on her hair to move her face, making her look at him. “But… someone did say they had plans for me,” he raised a brow with a smirk, watching the way her eyes lit up with excitement and he suddenly wondered just what he was getting himself into.

“I did. Come on,” she grinned, far too eager for his liking but he allowed her to get up and take his hand.

He followed her to the bedroom, watching as she tugged her tiny dress off and then her underwear. He took his own clothes off, figuring he might as well save her a job and waited to see what she wanted him to do,

“Will you lay down for me?” she asked sweetly, fluttering her lashes and he was powerless to resist her. He lay on his back, relaxing, his eyes lazily watching as she crouched beside the bed and rummaged in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. She stood back up with a triumphant smile, handcuffs in her hands. He’d enjoyed using them last time and he smirked to himself, about to move so she could lay down instead and he could cuff her. Imagine his surprise when she shoved him back down, kneeling between his legs and giving him a wicked grin. It clicked then and he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

“You wanna cuff me?” he asked slowly, the dominant animal he had inside of him snarling at the prospect. Yet the cheeky and hopeful look on her face made him curious to try it, to see what it would be like to have her in control for once.

“Only if you're okay with it,” she murmured and he nodded, making her smile.

“I’m up to try it,” he shrugged and she leaned over him with the cuffs, encircling one of his wrists with them. Her delectable tits were right in his face and his free hand came to grab one, his mouth wrapping around her nipple and suckling on it greedily and making her gasp.

“Simon!” she chided with a giggle, squirming against him in a way that felt divine. God, it wouldn't take much to take the power back, would it? She was always so pliable for him.

He let her go with a dark smirk, allowing her to take his other hand and cuff him to the headboard. She jerked on them a little and then hummed, seemingly satisfied with his restraints. She moved back to kneel between his legs, tilting her head as she observed him. Made his cock twitch the way her eyes devoured the sight of him all trussed up for her, a predatory gleam in her blue eyes. His breathing hitched when her soft hands smoothed up the inside of his thighs and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

“Are you gonna be a good boy for me?” she purred and maybe those words should have embarrassed him but he moaned instead, cock jumping against his stomach as something dark flashed behind his eyes. He nodded and she tutted at him, moving to hover over him as she bit her lip with a grin.

“Use your words,” she ordered and why did that make his dick ache so badly?

“Yes,” he breathed softly and her grin turned into something almost sinister.

“You can do better than that, Simon,” she raised a brow.

“I’ll be a good boy,” he murmured and she looked like she might just purr in delight at his words. Her lips claimed his demandingly and he surrendered to her, enjoying having her take the reins.

When she pulled away, her teeth nipped at his lower lip and he groaned, fire spreading over him as she tugged it before letting it go. She started kissing down his jaw and then his neck and he titled his head, soft moans leaving his lips as he revelled in her attention. His hands instinctively went to grab her as he always did but instead he couldn't move them, the metal clinking against the headboard as he tried and a growl rumbled in his chest at the spark of frustration. He really wanted to touch her.

She chuckled against his neck before sucking on it harshly and he knew it would leave a mark. A long drawn out moan left him and he arched up, wanting to feel her cunt that he knew would be dripping for him but she moved away every time he tried, denying him of the friction he was badly craving. Her kisses moved down to his chest, giving him a cheeky bite every now and then and by the time she got to his stomach, he was a writhing mess. He’d never been teased before, this whole thing was new but he was on the brink of insanity with how much he ached for her. She hadn't touched his cock once.

“Charlotte…” his brows furrowed, hips bucking and finding nothing but air to greet him.

“You need something?” she asked mischievously, sucking a hickey just above his hip bone and drawing another ragged moan from him.

“I need you,” he bit out, starting to get agitated with being kept away from her touch. She looked up at him through her lashes, kissing his stomach just next to his cock, so close he felt her breath against it and he whimpered, something he’d deny until the day he died.

“Is that how you ask for something like a good boy?” she asked roughly and he felt so frustrated that he was sure he was about to cry. Is this how she felt when he teased her? Fuckin’ hell, it was torture yet he didn't want it to end.

“Please. Please fuckin’ touch me,” he begged, too far gone to feel ashamed at the notion. The grin she gave him was something he’d never seen on her face but he didn't have time to think about how his angel had turned into a villain because then she was grasping his cock in her hand. Even the small contact made a raw moan leave his lips and he felt ready to go off at a moment's notice.

“Don’t cum, not until I tell you to,” she demanded, eyes narrowed as if she could read his mind and he nodded, lungs unable to get air properly.

His eyes were glued to her, watching as she leaned down and licked a thick stripe up his cock and fuck did it feel good. The strangled noise he made told her as much too. She took him into her mouth and his head fell back, moaning wantonly as he started thrusting up into her mouth. She didn't like that, moving off him and giving him a firm look.

“Do you want me to touch you or not?” she asked him as if she was scolding a child. His cheeks flushed and he made a pained noise, his hands tugging on his cuffs. She made no move to touch him, still giving him that stony glare and his cock was throbbing.

“Yes… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please,” he whispered in a raw voice and she smirked, moving to crawl over him and he could almost taste the impending relief. He half expected her to tease him more, to withhold her precious pussy from him, so he was more than pleasantly surprised when she lined him up and sunk down onto him without preamble. The noise he made was embarrassing and the cuffs strained against the headboard as he desperately tried to reach out and touch her.

She rested her hands on his firm chest as she started to move up and down. He was so worked up that he knew he wouldn't last long yet worried what she’d do if he came without her permission. That and he didn't like to cum before her but he could do little about it when he was restrained like this. She didn't waste time, didn't take it slow, didn't tease him. She started bouncing on his cock with such force, her tits were jumping up and down and he was helpless to lay there and make noises like an animal in mating season.

Her own moans were needy and he knew she’d probably teased herself with what she’d done to him, getting off on bossing him about. He knew because that's exactly how he felt when he was in control. He took a chance by rutting up into her but she seemed too into her own pleasure to chide him for it and he took the tiny slither of control she was allowing him, using it to fuck her harder, deeper.

Her face was a picture and he was enraptured. Her mouth open as she moaned, eyes screwed shut as she chased her own pleasure, used his body to get off. It didn't take much longer before she was gasping, squirming on his cock as she came hard. He could barely breathe, his moans raw and painful as he tried his best not to spill his load into her when her cunt milked him so well.

“Lottie, please. I can’t- I need-” he gasped desperately and she nodded, fighting through her own pleasure that had temporarily blinded her as she picked up her pace bouncing on his cock.

“You can cum. Want you to fill me up,” her sinful words pushed him right over the edge and he came with a roar, vision going white for a moment as he gave her every drop he had.

He felt weightless, like his body was gone and he was nothing but a puddle. Felt like there was nothing left of him at all. He couldn't open his eyes, his high wrapping around him like a snake. He felt the cuffs release, the sensation of his arms finally coming back to him as she gently put them by his sides. He opened his eyes, lazily looking at her through his hazy mind. She was radiant as she looked him over, concern shining behind those pretty blue eyes and when he smiled at her, she relaxed infinitely. He grabbed her, glad to finally be able to and stopped her from getting off him, wanting to keep his cock inside her a bit longer. She lay right on top of him and she giggled, splaying herself over him with her face in his neck.

“Was that okay?” she asked softly, her hand rubbing his chest. His own hands were wandering her body greedily, soaking up the silky feel of her skin.

“Perfect. Wouldn't get used to it though, we all know who’s really in charge here,” he murmured tiredly and she snorted, kissing his neck sweetly.

He could feel her breathing start to even out, tiredness taking hold of the pair of them and he knew this wasn't the most comfortable sleeping position but he wasn't ready to let her go just yet. His hand smoothed up her back, holding her close as he pressed his face into the top of her head.

“I love you,” he whispered, glad he could just say it now. He felt her smile against his neck and she snuggled even closer to him.

“I love you too,” she replied, rubbing her nose against the sensitive skin she’d previously marked. “Happy birthday, Simon,” she added and he pressed a kiss to her head. Despite the hiccup with the club, he could say this was his best birthday ever. She loved him back and he still couldn't quite wrap his head around how he got to be so lucky. Loving a mess like him was the best gift she could ever give him and he wouldn't take it for granted.

#simon riley x oc #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x oc #ghost x oc

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