#To make a long story short this is the fourth(?) time in a year I've had serious wrist pain. And it's BOTH wrists this time ._.
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Pls give recommendations for Odd books 🙏
Here we go, a list of literary oddity :) This post contains majestic spheres, alien taxonomies, cruel subway polytheism, a fourth-dimensional cat, disturbing earthworms, infinite space football, existential mussel terror, a Parisian absurdist time loop, and a picture of a telegraph-pole-man-cheetah. I'm not exactly recommending these books, in the sense that I won't take any complaints if you find them more odd than good, and some of them transcend the concepts of good and bad anyway.
• The Other City, Michal Ajvaz. It's all like this:
• Contes du demi-sommeil, Marcel Béalu ('Half-asleep tales') —is the book that prompted my post about stories that have no ambition or justification beyond being odd. I'm sad that it hasn't been translated :( One of the tales is about a strange opaline sphere that rolls on the road. It doesn't accelerate when the road becomes a steep slope but continues rolling majestically. At one point it floats away towards the sky. Someone wonders if it was the moon. Someone else says authoritatively "It was an angel's egg." Everyone is reassured by this explanation. The whole thing feels exactly like remembering a dream you had. There is also a man who reads too much and whose body atrophies so only his head is left and his wife puts it in an egg cup for better stability.
• Leonora Carrington— The Skeleton's Holiday, or maybe the Hearing Trumpet. I've read them so long ago but I think the latter is the one with the old ladies and nuns? There's also a guy who was murdered in his bath by a still-life painter because he said there was a carrot in one of his paintings, but it might not have been a carrot? It's hard to remember details from this book without feeling like I might be making them up. Bonus Leonora Carrington painting which kind of feels like a short story:
• The Codex Seraphinianus, of course. I wish there were more bizarre encyclopaedias out there.
Also I love this review:
• Sleep Has His House, Anna Kavan —I really liked the way this book used language; making life feel like a fever dream even more than in Samanta Schweblin's Fever Dream (which I really liked too.)
The eye is checking a record of silence, space; a nightmare, every horror of this world in its frigid and blank neutrality. The actual scope of its orbit depends on the individual concept of desolation, but approximate symbols are suggested in long roving perspectives of ocean, black swelled, in slow undulation, each whaleback swell plated in armour-hard brilliance with the moonlight clanking along it . . .
• The second half of Michael Ende's Neverending Story, where things get stranger! I remember the hand-shaped castle with eyes and the city of amnesiac former emperors and the miserable ugly worms who cry all the time out of shame then create beautiful architecture with their tears...
• The Gray House, Mariam Petrosyan. This is the one I had in mind when I talked about a 'museum of the strange, but one you wouldn't want to be trapped in after closing time'. Another book that made me feel uncomfortable in a similar (good) way was Edward Carey's Observatory Mansions, the protagonist of which is a man who curates an odd private museum and can't stand the sight of his own hands.
• Oh, speaking of uncomfortable, and hands—He Digs A Hole, by Danger Slater. To me this book was in the more-odd-than-good category but I liked its refusal to have a coherent philosophical meaning. It's about a man who can't sleep so he goes to his garden shed and saws off his hands and replaces them with gardening tools. Then he starts digging a hole. And then it gets weird. (Read at your own discretion if you have a worm phobia; there's some body horror featuring sexually aggressive earthworms. And then it gets disturbing.)
• 17776 — Someone sent me an ask a few years back to recommend this online multimedia narrative to me and I really enjoyed it! Here's the summary, borrowed from the wiki page: Set in the distant future in which all humans have become immortal and infertile, the series follows three sapient space probes that watch humanity play an evolved form of American football in which games can be played for millennia over distances of thousands of miles. The work explores themes of consciousness, hope, despair, and why humans play sports.
• Saint-Glinglin, Raymond Queneau —the author admitted that this book presents some "internal discontinuities." I didn't like it much but I respect the talent it takes to write a novel where everything feels like a random digression, including the key suspenseful scene that matters to the plot. The one digression I loved had to do with the way the narrator is existentially horrified by various sea creatures. It's like he dreads them so much he can't help but think about them when he should be telling a story.
The oyster... This gob of phlegm, this brutal way of refusing the outside world, this absolute isolation, and this disease: the pearl... If I conceptualise them even a little, my terror starts anew. The mussel is even more significant than the oyster and even more immediately admissible in the domain of terror. Let us indeed consider that this little sticky mass whose collective stupidity haunts our piers, consider that it is alive in the same way as a cow. Because there are no degrees in life. There is no more or less. The whole of life is present in every animal. To think that the mussel, that the mussel has, not a conscience, but a certain way of transcending itself: here I am once again plunged into abysses of anxiety and insecurity.
Near the beginning he philosophises about what would happen if a man and a lobster were the only two survivors of the apocalypse. The lobster would break the man's toe and the man would say, "We are the only beings that remain on this devastated Earth, lobster! The only living beings in the universe, struggling alone against the universal disaster, don't you want to be allies?" But the lobster would disdainfully walk away towards the ocean, and "the sight of the inflexible and imperturbable lobster pierces the sky of humanity with its unintelligible claws." (I can't overstate how little this has to do with the rest of the book.)
• Autumn in Beijing, Boris Vian —needless to say the story does not take place in autumn nor in Beijing.* To the extent that it can be said to be "about" something, it's about people trying to build a train station in a desert with tracks that lead nowhere. (I just went on goodreads to check the title, and it's actually called Autumn in Peking in English. I also discovered that it was featured in a list of Books I Regret Reading. I liked this book, but I understand.)
(* French writers love doing this—like when Alphonse Allais said about his 1893 book The Squadron's Umbrella "I chose this title because there aren't any umbrellas of any sort in this volume, and the important notion of the squadron, as a unit of the armed forces, is never brought up at all; in these conditions, hesitating would have been pure madness.")
• The Library at Mount Char, Scott Hawkins—I fear this one makes a little too much sense for this list, but you can't say it isn't weird; and I loved it and recommend it any chance I get.
• The Eleven Million Mile High Dancer, Carol Hill —this book was so wacky and made me laugh. I've not yet managed to successfully recommend it to someone; its brand of odd didn't resonate with the people I know who've read it but that's okay. You could say it's about a woman astronaut whose weird cat disappears into the fourth dimension (or the quantum realm?) and she goes to space to save him—but that makes the book sound more straightforward and less messy than it is. Her cat leaves her a note before he disappears:
• The Bald Soprano, Ionesco —fun fact, there's a tiny theatre in the Latin Quarter in Paris where this absurdist play has been staged every night for nearly 70 years, with the exact same set design and costumes and everything, like the actors are stuck in a time loop. They celebrated the 20,000th performance this year! There's an actress who has been playing her character for 40 years and said joining this theatre was like joining a religion. I've been going to see this play as a New Year tradition with my best friend since we were 14, so I love it madly, though I wouldn't say it's good, necessarily—the author said it was about "absolutely nothing, but a superior nothing."
• Statuary Gardens; or Les Mers perdues (apparently not translated) by Jacques Abeille. This man is obsessed with weird statues. Unfortunately I find his writing style rather dull—I feel like he takes strange ideas and makes them feel mundane in a bad way...! But his books still have a nice, quiet, oneiric atmosphere, and images that stayed with me, like a solitary gardener trying to grow stone statues in the depleted soil of a walled garden. Here are some illustrations from the second one:
I'll look into some of the books recommended on my previous post! (and I agree with the people who brought up Cortázar, Borges, and Junji Ito. <3) Some potentially-odd books I have on my to-read list: Clive Barker's Abarat, Goran Petrović's An Atlas Traced by the Sky, Salvador Plascencia's The People of Paper, Jean Ray's Malpertuis; Jan Weiss's The House of a Thousand Floors; Brice Tarvel's Pierre-Fendre.
#ask#book recs#i know i've made some of these sound barely readable but it would be risky to oversell them#it's funny how indignant i felt when i first thought that saint-glinglin didn't exist in english translation even though objectively it#wouldn't have been a huge loss and i don't think english speakers are clamouring for more crustacean existentialism after sartre's lobsters#but they should get to choose not to read this book!
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Apologies AU - Good Ending Drop
Hey, everyone. It was my goal to finish Apologies in tandem with the Tournament, but for health reasons, I won't be able to as I planned. Because I tied the story to the tournament and don't feel like untangling it again and making everyone wait more, I'm going to give you all the ending spoilers, as I promised I would if I became unable to finish the story.
What I'm about to describe is THE Good Ending. The True Ending I had planned out almost from the beginning!
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In the main-verse...
Susie, who sees too much of herself in Adeleine, decides to take matters into her own hands to bring the girl's older brother back.
She takes the vial of Dark Matter Swordsman DNA that was harvested from King Dedede. Meta Knight catches up with her and argues against it. It's foolish, dangerous, and liable to be nothing but painful to all parties involved. But Susie anticipated interference and asked Zan to bodyguard her. When Zan arrives (late) to the lab, the argument has caused the vial to begin to react to all the negativity in the room. Zan recognizes its contents as Dark Matter and insists on calling Lord Hyness, who in his own quirky way, analyzes their problem and suggests that while the contents are too weak to survive on their own, a resurrection could be possible, using Void's powers to mimic a hive queen, supplying whatever creature emerges the power to survive on Popstar without burning up into ash...
-
In the tourney-verse...
White-Haired Noir is at peace with his life and has come to accept the death of his precious little sister many years ago, but...a part of him still wishes to make Adeleine happy.
Using his fairy-born dimension sight, he discovers an Alternate Noir who is 98% percent compatible with main-verse Noir. This is the Purgatory!Noir from the Re_Birthday post. And he drags this unstable, utterly clueless Noir out of this peaceful void without his permission and secretly "volunteers" the massively confused, un-alive but un-dead teen boy for the Kirby OC Tournament.
It is White-Haired Noir that is the "good" voice on phone and in Noir's head, encouraging rationality. His goal? Get Noir some friends. Get him to face up to/open up to people about his past. And get him caring about his life enough that he wants to live...!
White-Haired Noir has seen what the main-verse Star Allies are attempting and knows that the odds of them actually bringing "Noir" back instead of just an emotionless monster are low without a compatible "Noir Soul" (haha) to inhabit the new vessel.
Over the course of many in-tourney events, including Noir learning to have faith in the sibling bonds he built with Gooey despite being Dark Matter at the time, learning to separate himself and Adeleine as individuals instead of clinging to her to his own neglect, privately opening up to King Dedede, who put the pieces together post-possession, about some awful stuff Noir put up with for years in secret from Raquelle's father (who privately loathed Neichel AND her kids and took it out on Noir) to "pay" for Adeleine's good life...
And lastly, using the power of wishes to interrogate if THIS Noir's true wish is to die and be free, to have never been born, to have had a normal "perfect" life, or if he simply wishes for a second chance to be with those he cares about... White-Haired Noir determines that Tourney!Noir is ready and reveals his plan to him. Noir confesses to him that he really does want to live and be with his family again and offers up his stronger soul for Susie and the gang's vessel.
-
Back in the main-verse...
The experiment is a success! They have brought, well, something back. It is not quite like Dark Matter Swordsman in form, nor is it exactly a human boy. It looks a little bit like a spiky haired-Gooey.
After some tense questioning of the emotionless, memoryless, unresponsive goo, it...suddenly seems to awaken. With the voice of a deeply shaken and scared young boy, the violet-eyed blob questions the mad scientist, cultists, and masked man surrounding him... Where the hell is he? And where are his little brother and sister?
Meta Knight welcomes Noir back to the world of the living.
Later, after Noir has time to dress himself in an appropriate scarf, Adeleine and Gooey are brought in and it is a happy and tear-filled reunion all around as Noir confirms that, while this form is strange, it's not dangerous and he's not in pain. He is then re-introduced to King Dedede, whereupon it's revealed that even though Noir likes him, he's still a snarky teen punk at heart, as he sasses the king horribly. (Dedede has gained another kid, but at what cost? XD)
...And that's it.
That's the ending to Apologies I've held onto for nearly a year.
For reading through all that, here is a short comic I drew a while back of the reunited family having a snowball fight in White Wafers.
-
(Not to unnecessarily over-explain the story but because the comic is a little vague, I have to tell you that no, Noir does not ever return to human after his revival. I meant it when I wrote in several places that their parting on Shiver Star was the last time they'd see each other "...in this form." This is merely meant to depict a moment in which Adeleine, seeing her brother alive and smiling and laughing and having real fun for the first time in so long, is able to imagine his old self smiling and is at peace that her brother is finally free from the hurt and misery he bore up with for so long.)
(...And yes, he has a long, silly tongue just like Gooey. Which is why he hides all but his eyes behind the scarf. Gotta keep up that cool older brother look even as a little goo creature! While Noir can't become human - frankly, he doesn't miss having a human body, given the stuff in his adolescence and being over-stressed, underfed, under-slept and just overall sick all the time in his later teens - he does eventually acquire the ability to shift into his old "Swordsman" form for short bursts of time.)
-
(Lastly, you might wonder how I could have had this exact ending in mind from almost the beginning when so much of it is tied up in recent posts like the tourney? ...Well, originally what was going to happen to allow Noir to be properly resurrected into the Dark Matter Goo body is that the Dream Rod from Star Allies was going to appear in response to a grieving Adeleine's wishes to see her brother again, bringing Noir-as-Swordsman back. At least for a LITTLE while, as it would be revealed that with Zero dead, Noir, who was entirely composed of Dark Matter at this point, couldn't survive on Popstar. Every moment he was there, his body was burning.)
(Still, he lasts long enough to have one final talk with Adeleine that helps heal him from the torturous events of DL 3 - in which we learn a highly disappointed Zero drove Noir to the absolute breaking point, shattering his mind and his newly regained soul. Adeleine also tells Noir she has finally realized everything he did for her during their childhood and apologizes to him for not seeing it before. With dawn on the horizon, Noir asks to look over Adeleine's sketchbooks with her before the end... He dies one last time, peacefully, while Adeleine finally gets to properly mourn him.)
(Then, all the "main-verse" sections proceed to happen as stated above!)
-
(...Okay, okay. One last thing. There was also an alternate ending planned where Magolor, taking advantage of the fact that Merry Magoland was built on a nexus point, finds a way to reunite Adeleine and White-Haired Noir - still a teen in this version - using his theme park as a union point, as special birthday gift for Adeleine.)
(I was kinda fond of this one for reuniting the timelines, but it opened up a lot of questions such as, if Magolor made it so that Noir and Adeleine from two different dimensions can see each other as long as they're both in Magoland, could others from the WH Noir-verse see the main-verse this way? It invited too many questions, so that's why I scrapped that one and just let White-Haired Noir grow up instead.)
#Apologies AU#Noir Fontaine#PS: going to be on posting hiatus for a bit#To make a long story short this is the fourth(?) time in a year I've had serious wrist pain. And it's BOTH wrists this time ._.#Possibly carpal or radial tunnel - which I don't want - so I'm cutting out all drawing and non-work writing for a few weeks#But I'm tired of the same ol' song and dance of putting the happy resolution off again and again and again...#...and I'm worried about getting distracted playing catch-up when I come back so ...You get the ending NOW!!#(Want to keep this post clean so all you get about the background stuff in Noir's adolescence is heavy context clues)#(Speaking of background things - after 02's destruction Raquelle's damaged soul is left wandering the void...#...she is salvaged by Drawcia who is herself part Dark Matter and has been 'repainting' discarded Dark Matter shells)#(Mistaking Raquelle's memories of '...girl...painting' (Adeleine before she was attacked) she assumes she is an artist and...#...makes her a brand new body out of the remaining dark matter and adopts her under the name (yes) 'Vividria.')#(Vividria and Ado meet in Star Allies and though Vivi has no memories they immediately become super close once more!)#(Adeleine doesn't know it's her but Noir will eventually put two and two together - though he doesn't press the issue)#(So yeah! Things basically end happily for most everyone!)#(As for Neichel and Rim they probably ARE watching from heaven - sorry Noir!! - and happy to see their kids happy!)
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BRUTAL | step!dad!h
NOTE: Just a reminder that while this is step!dad x step!daughter - Harry has never been a father figure to Y/n in this story. They met when she was already in her 20s and Harry is closer in age to Y/n than he is to her mother. Their relationship is clearly inappropriate but he never knew her as a minor or a child and I would never write that kind of stepdad fic (anyone who's been a fan of this trope since the beginning knows this). < for all the haters who accused me of that not long ago
Summary: You come home for the weekend and Harry just wants you to tell the truth. Based on this ask!
A/n: It's been almost a year since I've given y'all anything for stepdad!H. ENJOY!
Word Count: 2.1k
Warning: cheating, smut, lying, inappropriate relationship, spanking
step!dad!harry masterlist
. .
“Stop,” Harry warned.
You did it again. Reached your socked foot out to his lap and nudged against his crotch. Your mom was just in the other room talking to you about what she should make for dinner since you were planning on staying for the weekend.
“What if we just order pizza?” You answered as you grinned at your stepdad, pressing down at the lump that he was trying to keep at bay.
Your mom walked into the living room just as you quickly pulled your foot away from Harry. You’d both been sitting on opposite sides of the couch and the moment she stepped out of the living room to get ready for her scheduled surgery you started fucking with him.
“Okay. I’ll pick up a couple of pizzas on the way back. There’s this new pizza spot not far from here that I’ve been wanting to try.”
Harry sat up and placed his elbows on his knees to hide the way he was already thickening in his pants, “Sounds good, love.”
She bent down to kiss him and then looked at you, patting your knee, “Glad you’re here for the weekend. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
You smirked to yourself as you turned your attention to the TV and Harry sat quietly in his spot as your mom walked out. You knew you were in for it.
For one, you hadn’t seen Harry in weeks. You’d been too busy and you were enjoying college life. You still texted him frequently but he was jealous because you’d often be out with friends and that included guys. He’d see your Instagram posts where you were dancing with other boys or wearing very little and he’d text you asking who you were with and it’d just make you feel all smug and satisfied to know he was suffering like he was.
For another thing, the moment you walked into the door that morning you’d been nothing but bratty with him. A right pain. But that was because you needed something punishing and rough from him. Something that would stick between your teeth and that you’d feel for a few days after you left.
Well, you just needed Harry to fuck your brains out. You’d tried fucking around with other guys but they didn’t do it for you. No one did it the way Harry did.
And the moment your mom’s car was out of the driveway and down the street you felt his hand gripping your arm and pulling at you, “You know better than to act this way with me.” He pulled your stretchy shorts down, taking your panties with them and tossing them across the room before he had you stuffed, face down on the couch with your bare bottom up in the air.
The first swat to your ass was welcome. It was like a shot of pain relief to your insides. The next one stung but you moaned with a grin on your face. The third and fourth made you wiggle your bottom at him and sigh loudly, “Yes, Daddy…”
And that made him pause, “You know what? I’m too nice to you, aren’t I? Giving you exactly what you wanted. But you’re nothing but a childish brat,” the palm that landed on your ass that time had you hissing in pain. He did it again, harder and you felt like your skin was starting to welt.
He held your wrists together behind your back as he landed blow after blow to your backside, making you howl and attempt to move away from him but you had nowhere to go. Tears and slobber were wetting your face and the couch cushion.
It hurt. It fucking smarted. Every strike was worse than before and you knew you’d started it all but damn was he making you wish you’d just been nice.
There was also the fact that you sent Harry a photo of yourself making out with a college guy as you sat in his lap half-naked. You and Harry had been arguing and he told you he didn’t want you anymore anyway and you were hurt by that so you found yourself someone who did want you. You knew Harry was pissed about that too.
“So did you fuck him?” He growled as he finally let up with the spankings.
“Yes. Big cock too,” you lied. You didn’t have sex with him, but he did finger you and it was awful and the moment he pulled his pants down so you could blow him you realized what a mistake it was. His prick was barely half the size of Harry’s.
“Oh yeah? Then why are you so wet from me just beating your ass like this, hmm?” His palm ran over the achy raised skin on your bum and then down to your pussy where you were drenched, “Feel like if you were being fucked properly you wouldn’t be so desperate right now. Bet you’re lying to me.”
You grunted into the couch, your words muffled, “I’m not lying. He’s so good in bed. Miss him.”
Harry laughed, “No you don’t. You missed Daddy. That’s why you got all excited the moment my hands got on you… Yes, Daddy…” he mocked your voice as he repeated your words before landing another solid thud against your bum cheek. You jolted forward and cried out.
“Just tell me the truth and I’ll give you what you want. Something you can’t get from anyone else.”
“He fucked me with his big cock, bigger than yours, and he made me come so much. I let him have me anally last night.”
Harry’s thumb slid over your ass, “If he did then he has a pencil dick. Either that or you’re still lying to me. All you have to do is fess up. Be a good girl for Daddy and tell the truth. Have you really had sex with him?”
You gulped as you felt his thumb tease around your tight hole. Rearing back to urge him to push it in he pushed you back into place, “I’ll stick my thumb inside and fuck your pretty cunt if you tell me the truth.”
Moaning at just the thought of it you turned your head, “He only fingered me. But I hated it. I promise that’s the truth. Now please, Daddy…”
Harry was still and stiff suddenly. It was like the atmosphere in the room had grown thick and heavy as he pulled away from you completely, your hands falling away when he released your wrists. You turned to look at him.
“Harry… I only did it because I’m trying to move on. You get to–”
“I really don’t want to talk about it. Get your top off.”
You stood from the couch and pressed your lips flat, pulling your t-shirt off over your head before stepping in front of Harry completely naked for him to do with as he pleased.
His eyes were dark, brutal, as he slowly removed his belt and then tugged at his button and zipper.
“On your knees on the couch, turned away, face down. I don’t want to look at you right now.”
You did as he said. You knew he was extra pissed off. That you let someone else touch you. Placing your knees on the couch cushion you bent forward and placed your face back into the cushions, “Daddy, I’m sorry. I only want you. He wasn’t even goo–”
You yelped at another smack to your very tender ass and felt his hand pressing down at the back of your neck, “Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear about him.”
He stood behind you and you felt his hands on your hips after letting go of the back of your neck before he rewarded you with his big cock, impaling himself until he was buried in balls deep. You were already sodden from the way he’d spanked you and the way he spoke to you. You’d needed it. You’d need him.
And when he began jackhammering into you, hips thudding against your ass, hands gripping meat of your hips to pull you against him every time he thrust forward, the sticky heat that formed around his cock from your dripping hole… it was relief.
You knew you were fucked in the head for everything. For what you liked and for doing what you were.
He was pounding into you like he was in a hurry and it was all you could do to hold yourself steady as he bullied his fat cock inside. He hissed as he watched the way he stretched you open, “Always gonna need Daddy, aren’t you?”
You gurgled as drool pooled onto the cushion under your mouth, “Yes!”
Just like what you wanted, it was punishing and unkind. You gasped as you held onto the material that covered the cushions. Involuntary grunts were falling from your chest as Harry punched into you.
“Try to make me jealous by sending photos of little twerps you’re seeing but we both know they can’t give it to you like this. Because you’re dirty, filthy… you like your pussy getting railed deep and hard with a nice big dick just like this…” He was panting his words, gritting his teeth. He was on the edge already. He’d missed your tight your pussy. And you too, but he wouldn’t admit it right then.
Letting go of one side of your hip he slowed his plunges and you felt his thumb drag through the spot against your pussy where he was pushing into you. He wiped your arousal all over his thumb and smeared it around your anus before awarding you with a nice little stretch as he pushed his digit inside and began it thrusting, “Need your ass and your pussy stuffed, need to be spanked… you need a lot of things don’t you, baby?”
His cock was dragging into your guts and against your front wall just right, making your walls flutter. And when Harry felt you squeezing he couldn’t help but to take his fingers over your clit and press circles where you needed it. As mean as he might be, he still wanted you to come. That was partly due to his ego and needing to be the best. At least if you did sleep with someone else one day, Harry could tell himself he always made you feel good when he fucked you.
You were grinding back against him, muffled moans coming from you as slick dripped down your thigh. Every plunge of his cock through your wet pussy was gushing, sloshing and Harry was clenching his jaw. What he was watching was filthy and hotter than anything he’d ever seen. Your ass was all marked up, your swollen pussy was gulping him in, and your ass was pulsing around his thumb.
“Coming already?” Harry inhaled deeply, almost in a whimper when he felt you begin to shake and your pussy began to milk him. “Fuck… So desperate to have someone take care of you. Can’t get what you need from any of those losers… mmm shit baby… always coming back to me for more.”
It was true. You hadn’t had sex with any of the guys you tried dating because they didn’t do it for you. You tried but they weren’t Harry. They didn’t handle you the way he did. They didn’t know your body the way he did and they never would because you didn’t want them anyway.
Harry groaned and cursed as he drove into you deeply and you could feel him throbbing as he pumped his come into your tummy. Illicit and hot… you both got each other off like no one else ever could.
When he pulled himself out he cooed, his thumb gently tracing around your ass, “That’s my favorite. Watching my come drip from your pussy after I just destroyed it. Still shaking too,” he gripped the back of your thighs, “Can you sit up?”
You mumbled affirmatively and pushed yourself up slowly, Harry steadying you with his hands. He helped you off the couch and you noted he’d already tucked himself back into his pants, while you were stark naked still.
“You okay?”
You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips, “So good. That’s just what I needed.”
Harry smiled and splayed his big hand around the front of your neck and drew you in for a kiss that had you melting.
One day it’d come back to bite you, you were sure, all that sneaking around. But in that moment it was a secret you and Harry would keep holding onto to enjoy for as long as possible.
. .
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Half-Lore #3: 66 HL Facts!
Make your 'counting to three' jokes in the tags please. Back with another instalment, this is one I've been looking forward to! 66 random facts spanning the entire Half-Life franchise (bc I couldn't fit 100 in one post due to numbered list character limits...) If you have any suggestions for other instalments of Half-Lore, please let me know.
Have a peep under the cut, and enjoy!
Gordon can speak, as confirmed in a series of letters that were included in HL1's box. They mention that L.M and him had a telephone call prior to Gordon's arrival.
Speaking of L.M, he was the original administrator for Black Mesa. L.M was the G-Man, though his full name is never revealed.
Barney and Breen were both meant to appear in Half-Life: Alyx, but were cut due to a hard reset on the game's development.
Gordon is apparently very clumsy. Eli jokes about it in a series of cut voicelines.
Prior to his appointment at Black Mesa, Gordon was stationed at the University of Innsbruck in Austria.
Russell's complaint about being told to apply a year later after his interview at Black Mesa is a real-life hiring process that Valve uses.
Marc Laidlaw mentioned that the baby photo in Gordon's locker is probably a nephew, making Gordon an uncle!
Bullsquids have a 'hungry' mode. If they find a dead headcrab, and they're in hungry mode, they'll eat it. Otherwise, they'll play a sniffing animation and walk away.
In HL2, you can bonk NPCs on the head during a cutscene to make them teleport. This is because the game thinks that the character is trapped by a physics prop, and will teleport them to the next segment in the cutscene to free them.
On Kleiner's clipboard during his first cutscene, what he's saying about the HEV suit is actually written on the paper word-for-word.
Barney has a girlfriend called Lauren, and a picture of her in his locker. The woman in question was a real-life girlfriend of one of the devs.
In one of the OP4 skyboxes, a dev has written the note "Hack hack hack all day long. Hack hack hack while I sing this song."
The mysterious artefact Alyx brings back to Black Mesa East is the head of a Cremator, which was a cut enemy.
HL2 was originally meant to take place in New York.
Headcrabs don't turn Gordon into a zombie because he apparently never lets them get close to his face.
Colette gets a kick out of violence.
Gordon was employee of the month when the Resonance Cascade happened.
A special rebel outpost along Route Kanal will start playing ambient windchimes if you hang around long enough.
Breen was meant to wear a pair of glasses, but Marc Laidlaw went against it, citing that they made Breen look 'vaguely homosexual'.
Russell was originally meant to be Laszlo, the finest mind of his generation. His computer's password is actually 'Laszlo' too!
There are props clipping through Russell's ceiling intentionally- objects will phase through each other during portal storms, the likes of which ravage City 17.
The Citadel wasn't built on Earth, per se- it was teleported in chunk by chunk like the world's biggest IKEA assembly.
G-Man cannot understand the Vort's language, and the Vorts use by-words when discussing him and the Advisors to avoid detection.
Combine Advisors cannot breathe Earth's atmosphere, hence the breathing apparatus they wear.
There was meant to be a fourth day of HL2's plot, but it was shortened to three. Players would have fought through a museum.
Eli lost his leg to a bullsquid when he was helping Kleiner into City 17.
Kleiner and Barney were meant to die in a bus crash in HL2's opening sequence. Marc Laidlaw wrote a short story discussing their deaths in rather graphic detail.
In Decay, there was a cut sequence where players witnessed Gordon getting killed if they didn't scare away the soldiers in time.
Despite 20 years having passed in reality, only around two weeks have passed for Gordon due to being in stasis.
For HLA, developers scanned in a $10,000 Nordstrom suit to use for G-Man's textures.
Level designer David Casali, who has worked on every single mainline HL game, was too tall for a lot of the levels in HLA's Vault sequence. This lead to a lot of upside-down sections being cut for accessibility.
G-Man was meant to be an unwilling prisoner in the Vault, as revealed in a storyboard in The Final Hours.
The Nihilanth is inspired by Gabe Newell's fears of fatherhood, as he'd just had his son at the time.
Nothing is native to Xen. Every alien animal present on Xen is running away from The Combine's invasion of their homeworlds.
During Opposing Force, players can find a gear and a valve inside of a cardboard box- a very clear nod to Gearbox and Valve!
Barney's model changes subtly from HL2 to Episode 1- he's shown more dishevelled, with his hair unkempt and a series of cuts on his cheeks.
G-Man's face is hidden in the Xenian crystal at Black Mesa East.
Alyx was found by the G-Man, sitting beside her dead mother and clutching her mother's wedding ring.
Child labour was meant to appear, with models and animations of the children working in Cremator factories made. This, understandably, were cut, and the lack of children explained away with the suppression field.
G-Man's crow friend is nicknamed 'Crowley'.
During the tactical map section of Surface Tension, you don't have to use the drone strike to destroy the doors leading to the next level- you can actually break it with a fully-charged Tau Cannon shot.
Typing 'haiku' in the game's console will generate a random haiku for you.
Imprisoning the G-Man in HLA was referred to as putting 'God in a Box' by developers.
HL2 on PC and HL2 on Xbox 360 sound wildly different! Due to advanced sound chips, developers were able to push the audio of HL2 to be more immersive and sound more realistic than on PC.
Grigori's shotgun is called Annabelle.
A model of Eli naked exists. This was meant to be used in the section we see him in the Combine pods.
An illustration of G-Man holding a gun to his head can be found on the back of a sign in HLA.
Similarly, in the Index HLA home environment, his eyes are used as part of an advertisement for 'vision enhancement'.
You can find a minifigure of the Scout in HLA.
The textures for some of HLA's cans actually use a recoloured metal effect from HL1's orange poster.
Grigori has cut crosses into the backs of his hands.
Inside G-Man's briefcase is pencils, ID, paper, and a gun.
The shadowy woman in HLA is called Hahn/The Contractor, and according to Erik Wolpaw, they 'have plans' for her.
A cut enemy called Mr. Friendly was meant to literally SA the player and knock Gordon's glasses off, blurring the screen. Apparently, the idea was to play on a gamer's subconscious (or conscious...) homophobia and make them freak out. This enemy was actually designed by a teenager, and was predictably scrapped.
Early advertisements for HL1 featured babies and children with lambdas replacing their eyes.
HL1 is intended to be an allegory for fighting your own inner hopelessness.
Valve's offices have a wall built to resemble the moving walls of the Citadel.
G-Man has had a total of 11 different models throughout HL's history.
Breaking the army crates in the Dreamcast port of HL1 will reveal copies of Sonic Adventure inside.
Gordon is from Seattle, Washington.
HL2 was delayed a lot during its development. At the time, many swore never to buy from Valve again due to their broken promises.
HL2's E3 demonstrations were staged.
Colette was employed by G-Man, but Gina died.
During a Reddit AMA, a dev responded that we shouldn't keep making Gordon feel bad about his outdated hairstyle choices, when asked about where his ponytail went.
A metrocop's hideaway can be found in the level after the zoo in HLA. Due to the amount of conspiracy theory paraphanelia, the room is theorised to be Barney's.
The act of covering your mouth to stop the fumes of Xenian flora from affecting you in HLA was implemented after playtesters instictively covered their mouths when sprayed.
Thanks for reading to the bottom! Here's some top notch BREENWAVE for you.
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a price i'm willing to pay | part 20 - doughnuts.
MASTERLIST
pairing: ceo!bang chan x entrepreneur!reader
genre: social media!au, arranged marriage, fake relationship, fluff, angst.
warnings: swearing, might have suggestive bits.
summary: following a scandal threatening the survival of your business, you have no choice but to associate yourself with a competitive company.
What happened last night? The events could be told in a short summary or in a thirty pages story.
It started after you had texted Chan to come and when you had just arrived at Wonhee's apartment. You still weren't sure why you asked him in such a desperate way for him to come but something in you wanted him around. Maybe it was because of the way he managed to get your mind off things in those silly dates every week. A part of it might also be how calm you had become to each other with time. As much as you hated to admit it, you were quite grateful to have him in your life. Especially considering the circumstances.
To no surprise, you were the first one to be greeted by the messy living room that had clothes and junk scattered around. Your sister was never one to clean a lot. As long as she found what she needed, it was not a necessity. That always came in contrast with Minho's tidiness of things.
"Long day?" you asked when she yawned loudly.
"Tell me about it... I like my job but my boss is always giving me these documents to send off when he can do it himself. I'm not his assistant, I shouldn't be doing this technically."
The job was temporary supposedly. Nonetheless, she was starting her fourth year as an assistant manager in a quaint clothing store.
"I've been telling you to work for me instead."
"I love you, sweetie, but you can barely provide for yourself if you don't marry Chris Bang."
"Alright, I'll take that," you laughed out.
Nearly twenty minutes passed until Jeongin and Minho arrived. Wonhee being Wonhee, she had already passed out on the couch in the comfort of her warm blankets. You let the men get settled and stayed by your sister's side for a while before Jeongin extended a white plastic bag to you. The two men had brought snacks of all sort to eat for the night. There were ramen bowls, candies, chips, soda bottles, even fruits that Minho had kindly cut beforehand. As you and him began to clear the coffee table to make space for the food, Jeongin looked around the room with a puzzled face.
"Do you really think Changbin went to his childhood home?" he questioned, obviously doubting what his friend said about his whereabouts.
The room became silent as you stared at one another. This was the fourth time Changbin didn't come to one of your hangouts. As much as you didn't want to doubt him, he had been behaving oddly since you announced you were marrying Chan. You knew this had nothing to do with jealousy as there was no way you were remotely interested in him. However, the more time passed, the more you began to believe it.
"His loss," Minho shrugged and then continued with placing the food items in front of him.
"Did he tell you anything, Y/N?"
You shook your head much to his disappointment. Before the ambiance could get any sadder than this, you began to look for a film to put on the screen. A historical drama was Jeongin's choice and he settled comfortably as he opened a bag of pretzel chips. Quite frankly, you paid little to no attention to what was going on between the two characters in the film. Instead, you kept looking at your cellphone every passing second. You swore Chan confirmed he would be there already. Thoughts began to flood your mind and you spiraled into thinking the absolute worse. While Minho was too immersed in the proximity he was sharing with Wonhee, Jeongin noticed immediately your shaking figure.
"Are you cold or something?"
You stared at him, uncertain if you should answer truthfully. You were about to speak when the buzzing sound of the doorbell interrupted you. You put the blanket that laid on your legs aside and were quick to answer.
"Yes?" you spoke in the speaker.
"Y/N?" Chan said.
You didn't need any more information and you pushed the button to let him in. As much as it felt like an action you did on the regular basis, it resulted to a frantic Jeongin rushing to your sides.
"Don't tell me you invited Bang here?"
"What?" Minho whispered to not wake Wonhee up. "Why would you do that? Voluntarily?"
"Yes," you answered sheepishly.
"Since when?" Jeongin asked, his voice much louder to which Minho answered with a glare.
"I don't know, we get along now. Is it that much of a surprise?"
Minho smirked. "No. He's welcomed here anytime."
"Who are you to say this? You don't live here."
"I might soon if Wonhee finally lets me be your brother-in-law."
Just when Jeongin was starting to run to Minho with an annoyed grunt, a soft knock was heard throughout the whole flat. Your two friends looked at you with encouraging smiles while you stood there, frozen. The knock came again. Finally, you opened the door slowly, only peeking your head out at first. When you saw Chan in sweats and a hoodie that was clearly too large for him, you felt your face heat up the slightest. He has never looked so casual in front of you and you honestly loved it.
"Am I late to the party?" his voice broke you away from your staring.
"Not at all, the film only began."
When you let him inside, a frown appeared on his face. "Your sister is sleeping already?"
"Don't question it," Minho said as he rubbed her arm. "She had a long day."
Chan chuckled — which somehow sounded like the most beautiful thing you had heard in your entire life — and went on to put what he brought on the counter. "I didn't think you'd have so many snacks already but I have pastries."
"What kind?"
"Mochi doughnuts."
You quirked an eyebrow. "What the hell is that?'
His eyes widened. "I knew you had no cultural knowledge but to that extent?"
"Alright, I'm sorry I don't know my doughnuts," you huffed.
"You have to give it a go."
"Maybe later. Come, join us."
Jeongin gladly scooched over the edge of the sofa to leave you two enough space. As much as he tried, it was still not enough to let you have room for yourself without having half of your body on top of Chan's. Upon noticing your poor attempt at finding a comfortable position, he sighed heavily in discouragement.
"Just come here," he motioned to himself, opening his arms out as to invite you to cuddle up.
"In your dreams," you scoffed.
"I swear I'm comfortable."
You glanced over at Jeongin and he was no help when he answered with a shrug. He was visibly more focused on the gummy bears he was consuming. With a shy nod, you allowed yourself to fall onto his body as you got wrapped around by his strong but somewhat soft arms. You moved around for a while to find the right way to sit but he sighed again.
"You're stiff, just relax."
"I am relaxed."
"Y/N."
His hands moved from the side of your arm to your cheek. Gently, he made you look at him and you swore you felt your stomach flip upside down. In an instant, your limbs relaxed and you fell perfectly into Chan's embrace. He detached his hand from your face — much to both your relief and your dismay — and laid the blanket on both of your bodies.
"What did I miss?" he asked to Jeongin as if nothing.
You were baffled at how at ease he was conversing with your friend while you couldn't help but wonder if he could feel your heart pound like crazy.
Almost two hours later, you were still as flustered and still in Chan's arms. You didn't dare to move, afraid the slightest movement would bother him. The two other men were deep asleep and, at that point, neither of you were interested in the movie.
"Doughnuts?" he suddenly said as he paused the film.
The credits stayed still on the television but you kept your eyes on it. His face was dangerously close to yours, you were well aware of it. Before you could make a wrong move, you got off him carefully to not bother your sleepy friends. As for him, he stared at you expectedly for an answer. You finally nodded and he cracked a smile before walking up to the white box laying still on the counter. Your gaze followed his actions and accidentally moved down to his forearms and he had just rolled his sleeves up. Again, you had to snap yourself out of it and focus back on the pastries he was now taking out of their package.
"Macha?" he offered and you gladly took the doughnut from him.
"What's yours?" you asked, pointing to the blue-coloured one he had in hands.
"Blueberry."
You said nothing. But your eyes remained on the food. A little too intensely. And Chan saw it.
"We can switch, here."
You grinned successfully and lost no time in biting into the soft baked good. It was sweet and soft, melting perfectly into your mouth. You barely could restrain yourself from letting out a surprised gasp from the taste.
"I really can't believe you never ate one of these," Chan commented while chewing.
"Well, you've created a monster now — this is delicious!"
He chuckled lightly at the sight of you taking more bites, messily wiping the corner of your mouth in the process. The remainder of the box was eaten in silence other than a few more gasps from your part. You offered yourself to get rid of the trash as part of the "thank you" you indirectly wanted to tell him. In the meantime, he pulled more boxes from the plastic bag he had brought originally which made you widen your eyes.
"More doughnuts?"
"Sadly, no," he responded in a disappointed tone. "Do you want bagels, though? I have this sudden craving."
Because of having been over at Wonhee's place so often, it was easy for you to locate the toaster while Chan cut the bagels in two. It was strange how cozy this was. It was almost like it was just one of those days where you'd stay late at night with your partner, doing silly things to get yourselves to sleep. As much as it made you grin, there was an inevitable voice in your mind telling you to not fall for this. Your relationship is based on business. Your upcoming marriage is based on business. There would be a day where Chris would come up to you with the news he has found someone to share his life with.
These thoughts were dangerous.
"How many do you want?"
You hadn't realized you had been spacing out while standing in front of the toaster, looking at nothing in particular. Chan still looked at you expectedly for an answer after a few seconds passed with your body staying still.
"One, I guess," you managed to speak.
Chan nodded lightly but a doubtful frown made its way on his face. He set the bagels in place, turned the toaster on, and then grabbed you gently by the arms.
"There's something bugging you."
Duh, you wanted to say. "No," was what you answered instead.
He exhaled as he gave you a look telling you he wasn't believing you. "I know we are not so close to each other in terms of talking about our problems and all but, believe me, you can trust me."
You scoffed. "I hated you for nearly 10 years."
"Fair point," he hummed. "I am a good listener if you need one, though."
You bit the inside of your cheek. Until then, you still hadn't looked at him in the eye. When your gaze met his, the was a glint in his pupils — one so comforting that it told you he was being sincere. You had missed on noticing how kind his eyes were when he smiled. You had also never quite checked how much taller than you he stood besides the fact you had been close to his body on many instances. And it was the first time you felt somehow aware of your looks in front of him.
"You don't have to say a thing, obviously," he reiterated in fear you might have interpreted it as too insistent.
He let go of your arms but you quickly grabbed his yourself to keep him near you. "Our marriage."
This took him by surprise and he opened his mouth slightly, unsure on what to say at first. He hadn't even thought you would open up to him, even less about whatever you had going in your mind towards your marriage.
"Yes?" he encouraged you to continue.
"Don't sleep around while we're married."
You wouldn't be able to explain why you felt this way or why you had the need to request this from him. It was a miracle you even gathered the strength to let it out — though not a lot of strength was required as it had mostly slipped out of your mouth.
"I wasn't planning on it either," he assured with a small chuckle. "It would be stupid to put ourselves in a situation where cheating allegations can-"
"Not for that," you stopped him which confused him. "I just don't want you to."
His breath hitched. "I won't."
Your body moved on its own and you pulled him closer. His eyes stayed on your lips for a few seconds before he gulped. Both of your breaths suddenly quickened from how close your faces were to one another.
"Can I request the same?" he said lowly.
"Yes."
"If you're my wife, you should know it means you are mine, no?" he almost said in a growl.
Your brain short-circuited for a moment. In all of the things he could have said, this was not on the list. It was almost offending you how he said it, but it also made him all the more attractive. Especially when he spoke with like this.
"You want me to be yours?" you whispered.
"Do you really think I've actually hated you all these years?"
What he insinuated with this was painfully obvious. So much, you denied to believe it. In no existing world was Christopher Bang Chan ever interested in you. If he didn't hate you, it was no liking for sure.
And you were right, he did dislike you as much as you. Maybe not hate, but there was no interest of getting along with you. What changed was the hours on end you spent with each other either working or on fake dates. Hours of watching you in your natural element being the most authentic person he knew. And how you began to let your guards down and let him catch a glimpse of your actual person — not the one who hated his guts — made you seem so much more attractive. For that, he did hate you.
He hated how accustomed he grew of your presence. He hated how your smile became the thing he looked forward to see every Tuesdays. He absolutely despised how jealous of Changbin he was for getting to take care of you as if you were the purest soul on Earth. He hated it so much, he had to call the fake relationship off. And without thinking, the moment he knew he could come to your rescue, he lost no time in doing so. Hence the marriage. Hence why it was taking everything in him to not attack your lips with his.
"Chan," was all you could find to say.
"Believe whatever, I don't care, but I really want to kiss you right now."
The need in his voice was desperate. You found yourself enchanted by the way he had smoothly moved his hands to your hips — suddenly aware of his touch — and mesmerized by how pretty he was besides the fact it was almost pitch black in the apartment. Without answering his request, you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into what was intended to be a gentle kiss. However, this was not enough on his part and he hungrily kissed back, so roughly that you could barely keep up with his pace.
His lips were moving so naturally, you could tell he had experience. It made the whole thing more thrilling which made you yearn for him a lot more. Your grasp around the back of his neck grew firmer while his hands were roaming all over your body. They moved down from your hips to your ass and began to massage them in a way that both hurt and made you gasp. Naturally, you jumped to wrap your legs around him and he held onto your thighs for support. He carefully put you on top of the counter where you heights met.
"I still hate you," you said breathlessly between kisses. "So fucking much."
You bit his lips when you felt the grin form on his mouth. He gasped in his turn and clutched onto your waist so hard, you squirm under his touch.
You would have done something as a payback if it wasn't for the horrid smell of burnt reaching your nostrils. All of the sudden, you remembered of putting bagels in the toaster for far too long.
"Shit," you mumbled, pushing Chan aside to get to the black burnt pieces of food.
You rushed to get one of your sister's perfumed candles and lit it up for them to get rid of the scent. You were lucky it wasn't as bad as it could have been.
"Y/N," Chan finally said once you were done with taking care of the problem.
The realization hit you hard upon noticing the red-ish marks you had left on his neck. The swell on his lips was another proof of the makeout session that occurred only minutes ago. Who knows what would have happened if the bagels didn't burn...
"It's getting late, you can take the last spot on the couch."
Visibly disappointed by your dismissal of the situation, he still nodded in agreement. "Where will you sleep?"
"Wonhee has a guest room."
You stayed in the kitchen for a couple more minutes, not saying a word. Chan was the first to leave while muttering a short "good night".
But you did not have a good night.
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feb + mar + apr reads
norma jean baker of troy by anne carson [★★★★★]
"Sometimes I think language should cover its own eyes when it speaks."
"Is she human? Are you? Is she a beast out of control? There's so much danger. No human can become just a beast, you plunge beyond - beyond what? Remember Jack the Ripper? 'I'm down on whores and I shan't quit ripping them till I get buckled,' Jack wrote in a letter to the newspaper, September 18, 1888. He never did get buckled. Of course insane, his mind blooming with it, who could go down that rabbit-hole or unlock such a puzzle as Jack? - but still, the woman! the thing is! the woman has everything and you smile and you take some."
: ̗̀➛ an exploration of the lives and myths of marilyn monroe and helen of troy.
: ̗̀➛ anne carson is there anything you can't do? please email me back. please.
piglet by lottie hazell [★★★★]
"'I want to make some food,' she said. 'For both of us?' he asked. 'No, just for me.'"
: ̗̀➛ one woman, piglet, and the lead up to her wedding in the face of a big confession from her fiancé.
: ̗̀➛ this one slipped beneath my skin and writhed around the spot inside me where i've tucked away all of my food issues.
merciless gods by christos tsiolkas [★★]
"I'm scared that if I let go, not only the room, not only this city, but the whole world will go cold forever."
"Your false gods cannot save you. There is only one God, my God."
: ̗̀➛ short stories that bash you over the head with how awful things and people and places can be. i did not live for this one... particularly wasn't into the one where a guy jerked his dad who has alzheimers off.
foe by iain reid [★★]
"All day. Time keeps moving. I've always thought that was a good thing. Until recently. I'm not so sure now. Is it good? For time to go by fast?"
: ̗̀➛ they want to send junior to space and replace him with a robot that looks and acts and talks exactly like him so his wife has company in his absence.
: ̗̀➛ marriage and trust and complacency, and a guy called terrence who we get reminded over and over has long gorgeous hair.
: ̗̀➛ a little boring for my taste. i had an idea of where it was going pretty early on, and it took a while for me to be proven right. pretty disconcerting!
acts of desperation by megan nolan [★★★★]
"The need was a true and human part of me, but I could feel nothing else of myself to be true or human, and so the need seemed ungodly, an aberration."
: ̗̀➛ a book full of confession, desire, jealousy, violence, and power. messy messy messy!!!! readers procceed with caution.
: ̗̀➛ shout out to everyone who said i should read this - you were right, it is up my alley.
gone girl by gillian flynn [★★★★]
"My wife was no longer my wife but a razor-wire knot daring me to unloop her, and I was not up to the job with my thick, numb, nervous fingers. Country fingers. Flyover fingers untrained in the intricate, dangerous work of solving Amy. When I'd hold up the bloody stumps, she'd sigh and turn to her secret mental notebook on which she tallied all my deficiencies, forever noting disappointments, frailties, shortcomings."
: ̗̀➛ i have become a gillian flynn STAN this year, it's true. despite having seen the movie multiple times, i enjoyed reading this, and was delighted to find some differences in the texts [for better and for worse].
: ̗̀➛ nick dunne, big fan of the lie of omission, mama's boy whose mama is dead, i'd like to introduce you to couples therapy.
dead beautiful and life eternal by yvonne woon [reread] [★★★]
: ̗̀➛ the first two books in a paranormal romance trilogy. these kinda bang guys, i can't lie. 15-year-old me was onto something when she decided to keep these instead of donating them. however, they DO have some of the worst book covers i've ever seen, sorry yvonne.
fourth wing by rebecca yarros [★★★]
: ̗̀➛ a romantasy book that has dragons, smut, and twists that you'll see coming from a mile away. pretty fun. recced to me by one man in person and a thousand women on tik tok.
: ̗̀➛ no one who has the thought 'double standards for the win' is using 'whomever' in a casual sentence with the guy she's having sex with.
: ̗̀➛ good enemies to lovers should have actual murder attempts. but maybe that's jusT MY OPINION.
my book rating system is as follows:
★ = i felt pure contempt the entire time
★★ = yeah it's a book
★★★ = i liked it!
★★★★ = good fucking book, damn
★★★★★ = blew my dick clean off and i'll throw a tantrum if everyone i know doesn't also read it and love it
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Snowed In - Yeti!M!Leon x GN!Reader (NSFW)
Merry LATE Chrimmy guys!!!! HAPPY NEW YEAR GUYS!!! (yeah... that went well) guys the fic is very long so I MARKED THE SMUT IN BLUE JUST SCROLL FOR IT
I was brainrotting with my best friend EVER and I came up with a terrible terrible thing (You're welcome) so hear me out, you're camping out in the snow, looking for, idk, self torture, and suddenly you catch the eye of a certain Yeti...
Long story short, he rescues you... eventually, and warms you up inside! I wanted to make this GN because although I am an F who LOVES F fics, I thought it'd be nice for y'all not Fs out there! I'll try keep it short so there's more chance of me finishing it! EDIT: IT's VERY LONG, JUST LIKE HIM!!!
THIS IS INSPIRED BY THE BRAINROTTINGLY NSFW GAME CLOUD MEADOW WHICH I HAVENT PLAYED BUT I WANT TO PLAY!! iN THE GAME THERE'S A CUTE YETI GUY AND HE LOOKS LIKE LEON A BIT, NO?!???!??!!?
guys I tried to edit this like 2000 times and every fucking time tumblr deleted my edit I am going insane but I pulled through for YOU! (eventually)
Honestly guys i'm not happy with this one it by far isn't my best work so read at your own peril. What I really want is for people to love the idea, not the fic, you know?? xx Pls do something with it if you like it! <3
Characters: GN!Reader, Yeti! Monster!Leon Kennedy
Warnings: NSFW, mentions of penetration, kissing, licking, cuddling etc, cumming iinside toooo, Reader is GN for inclusivity, and I've described the sex as P-in-Hole lol. He fucks you and you imagine where ig. !! Leon is kinda monstrous and not too human, and also in the start he kinda wrecks ur camp and scares the shit outta u so if it'll trigger pls dont read. Leon isn't monstrous he;s just big, furry and a bit primal. Kinda switchy / sub leon so at the start he lets you push him around n then he rails u v hard sooo uhhgjjj and also u have no condom dont be so naughty!!! NOT PROOF READ THERE WILL BE ISSUES OK BUT i CANNAE BE ASKED SORRY
Stay safe n happy this Winter!
"Just picture it! The fresh air! All that snow!" A naive relative tells you, patting you firmly on the shoulder. You stare down blankly at the brochure in your hands, all about a family getaway to a ski resort in some snowy, far off mountains. You didn't doubt them when they told you it'd be a good family exercise, but all you wanted to bond with was your warm bed and all the other things you had to do.
Only a week later, there you were. The sigh you let out dispersed into a cloud of white vapour before your eyes, leaving you to gaze upon your surroundings. Before you sat the exact sight from the brochure you held only a week ago, and it was beautiful. Crisp snow crunched beneath each trudging step, snow-tipped pines line each iced hill and valley as far as your eye could see. No longer mere inky blotches on thick paper - the wind howled past, whistling through each tree, and sending shivers up your over-clothed spine.
You learn the hard way that you won't even have a warm cabin and hearth to laze by during your chilly nights as you follow your family to pick up the camping gear they would be renting. You supposed it'd save money, but at what cost? Pneumonia?
And as you're all setting up camp, you can't help recall being at home wrapped up in your warm covers and revelling in the endless wonders of your Tumblr "for you" page. You also can't help feeling as though you're being... watched, and not by fellow campers in their tents.
"There's nothing out here but adorable rodents and birds!" your guide would exclaim for the fourth time now, in a screech which rivalled that of any of the feathered friends he'd referred to. He means to reassure you, and whilst you'd love to trust what he says with his years of experience in mind, you can't help but doubt him.
Eventually, night falls, and after a good few hours around a make-shift campfire sipping hot drinks of your choice, you and your family finally resign to bed. It's freezing, and despite your warmest sleeping-bag and thickest pyjamas, your teeth chatter and your body shakes. But you're convinced to fall asleep. The sooner you do, the sooner the cold fades away. So, eventually, amidst the wind battering your tent, and night-time ambience, you drift off.
You wake with a start, surprisingly warm, but quickly realise you're alone. Oh no. That's terrifying. After trying (and failing) for a good while to get signal (ever the priority (maybe this is too self-insert)), you crawl out of your tent. The sun hangs high in the sky. You were out for a while. Your sigh of relief must be audible once you find a scrawled note pinned to the makeshift seating surrounding your lit campfire.
"Good morning Sleepyhead!" It reads, and you can tell by the writing exactly who wrote it.
"We didn't want to wake you up so we've gone to get some food! Be back soon! xxx"
Well, at least you knew they couldn't be far away. You're not at all ready for the cold winds that begin to gnaw at your skin again so, groggily, you crawl back into your tent. You stretch, get back into your cocoon, and try once more to get signal.
He'd been watching you for a while now. He watched all the humans at the ski resort as they went about their festive holidays, completely unaware of his presence and he wouldn't have it any other way. Once like you, Leon was just like any other man, or government agent. That was until he encountered a strange virus on one of his missions. Years ago now, the virus caused him to significantly grow in size. He became taller and slightly buffer, and began to grow white fur on most of his body. His hair also became white.
Amused, Leon referred to it as the Y-virus (Y for Yeti) to anyone who'd listen, but, afraid of any negative side effects and any testing, hid away in some distant mountains. If you'd see his face, anyone who knew him might recognise him, and he dared not admit it to anyone, but he enjoyed being free, living off of wild animals and things. That, and, any snacks he could pilfer from unattended camps. He enjoyed his tranquil life, but grew to hate the years of loneliness he'd subjected himself to. As time went on, however, Leon slowly forgot what it was like to interact with other humans. And then, he forgot how to speak well too.
He watched as humans had their holidays, and spent time with friends and family. He was content in the knowledge that you were all happy, and, once the people cleared off, he'd investigate the area to see how far humans were developing, and whether he was still in the papers.
He'd been watching your camp too, and he was certain you'd all left. This was his chance to investigate.
You've been laying on your makeshift bed for a few minutes now when suddenly, you make out the soft sound of trudging through snow towards your tent. The footsteps are slow, but you chalk that up to any exhaustion a human would experience after facing the monster of a hill your tent was precariously placed upon. At first, you think it could be family, until you realise there's only one set of steps. It was probably someone on their way to wherever they were going. Nothing concerning you.
The sound approaches though, each footfall sounding loud, heavy and far apart. You'd think they were just walking slowly, if not for the speed at which the volume of each step increases. Before you know it, a large shadow almost eclipses your tent. A male figure. A tall one at that, and he seems to be about to walk straight through your camp.
Bit unnecessary...
Except he doesn't. The man just stops outside your tent. He looks around a bit. Maybe he needs some help, you think. Groaning quietly, you crawl out of bed, and peep through the unzipped door of your tent-
Tall. Really, really tall. At least 6ft. And you're staring right at his ass. And he doesn't... have clothes on.
Before you stands, quite proudly, something you can only describe as a yeti. He's covered from head to toe in thick, soft white fur. He's broad, muscular, and his waist forms a sharp V as it reaches his hips. Even through his glossy, well kept coat, the definition of each muscle and delicious shoulder blade catches your eye. You're terrified, hoping it's just some sort of elaborate cosplay to scare people. There's definitely space for someone to be hiding inside that... realistic suit. Ducking into your tent, you continue to observe with only one eye peeking from the tent, hoping you won't be noticed.
The man begins to look around, two catlike ears upon his head are perked as he scans his surroundings and eventually, he looks in your direction. He's far too tall to even register you while his eyes are at their level, but oh boy do you register him. You drink in his form, and, as he turns, his face. He's chiselled, certainly a sight for the sorest of eyes. His face is simply the cutest, softest almost feline looking one, and his jaw juts out as he analyses his surroundings thoughtfully.
You know how Leon looks, so I don't need to go into detail about the way his piercing blue eyes reflect the sun, shining through his silver fringe. I don't need to describe to you how his fluffy bangs sway dramatically as he looks around, or how he playfully blows a soft puff of breath upwards to clear some stray hair from his eyes.
Fortunately for you, I also don't need to tell you that he doesn't see you. He seems almost in a trance, stepping around carefully, analysing the tents and each miscellaneous object littered around. It seems as though he's checking up on things- the quality of them, the materials they're made of. He seems curious.
And then you see it, a small burst of flame at his right ankle. He's stepped too close to the fire pit. The yeti lets out a startled grunt, jumping into the air like a petrified cat. His hair bristles and stands on end as he tries to stand one legged in the snow, trying to bury his leg to put it out.
Then he loses his balance, the gargantuan man stumbling forward before suffering an untimely meeting with the guy line of a nearby tent. He yelps, trips, and with a loud thud and a few pings, lands face first in the snow right outside your tent. His collision with the strings holding up your tent sends them pinging out of the soft snow, and suddenly, your tent collapses around you, trapping you in.
Even in weak flails, he'd managed to tear his claws through another tent. You were terrified. What if he saw you?
In his clumsy efforts, the man had thrown quite a large amount of snow into your tent, and you gradually become colder, damper and more panicked as the freezing wet fabric of the tent pins you down. Scared to move, you only shiver as you completely hide inside now, not wanting the abomination outside to find you. You'd seen enough now to be certain that wasn't a costume. He was too... real.
You hear frantic fumbling and crunches of snow as the man outside extinguishes the last of his afflictions. His breaths are heavy, and gradually slow to a calming rate. And, after a while of sitting there still, perhaps shocked, he works up the courage to gaze around at the tents he's toppled. When his eyes at last land on your entirely ruined one, his heart sinks straight to his gut. His shoulder slump and he just stares in your direction, guilty being an understatement. Maybe if he just stares at the tent for a little longer, everything will undo itself, he seems to think, ogling your direction as his mouth hangs open.
Instead, it draws his attention to your shivering form beneath the soaked fabric. He swallows thickly, eyes widening and pupils narrowing.
"Fuck..." he groans meekly, muscles tensing in anticipation before stumbling to his feet. He kicks snow as he makes a series of small, unsure steps towards the tent. Then, in a flurry of inevitable motion, he crouches and throws what's left of your tent off of you. And just like that, with a yelp, your prison of a disguise is torn from you, exposing your skin to the cool, dry air. You shiver, duck away and curl further into a ball. Some small part of you prays for this to be just a nightmare, but the rest of you knows it's very real.
As soon as you hit hit his eyes, Leon falters. He leans back in surprise and his brows furrow in pity and regret. He could tear you apart so easily, and he'd just proved it. Sniffing the air a little, eventually he moves in, reaching out to you with large, clawed hands. He's almost pouting at you, eyes narrowed in concentration as he moves in. All you can do is hold your breath. You ball yourself up tighter. You have no idea how you'll survive this - you're past the point of playing dead. All you can do is stare up at him, silently pleading for mercy.
His hands are warm where they touch you. They're large too - large enough to almost encompass each of your upper arms in their soft grip. He just stays there for a while, gently holding your arms as they shiver. His gaze is locked on them as he focuses, gently adjusting the force at which he holds you, rhythmically squeezing you a little, just to get a feel. His tongue darts out in his focus, and after a while, his eyes are back on yours.
You wondered when your family would be back. You wondered if they could even save you. And then it hit you. You wondered if they'd never be back.
Gently, Leon pries your arms away from your face where you'd shielded yourself so desperately. When I say gentle, well, to him it was. He barely had to exert any force to bend you to his will. You were like putty to him. He could easily overpower you, and he didn't dwell on whether it was down to sheer strength or your fear.
Emotionless eyes scan you up and down a few times, ultimately resting on your face once more as a slow hand wipes your clinging hair from your forehead. Then, he reaches out again. Large clawed hands find purchase under each of your arms. They slide in easily as you comply, not wishing to enrage him. He hoists you up with ease, save a small grunt. Next thing you know, he's standing and you're held at arm's distance from him like a cat. He peers up at you, smiling for the first time. He chuffs, hot breath landing on your face; he seems proud of his catch.
Terrified and uncomfortable, you continue to shake in his grip. All you can do is stare at him pleadingly, and even if you had the willpower, you doubted you could escape him. Your clothes are soaked through now, and if you had to thank him for anything, it would be for warming your arms and not killing you... yet. His blues stalk you through his silvery fringe, and after sniffing your air a few times, he sighs and pulls you in.
You're terrified. You can't look. You squeeze your eyes shut. What if he eats you?? You couldn't even begin to picture it, but after a few seconds of being pressed against his warm body, a gentle caress of your thigh coerces you to open your legs a little to allow him space between them. He grunts, wrapping your legs around his waist and carrying you more supportively now, like a child.
Buried in his chest, you can't see the small awkward smile he gives you, or the look of relief he sends your way as you seem to warm up to him (literally.) Through small rubs and caresses up your back and where he holds you by your thighs, he slowly rubs his warmth into you. Mind so frazzled by fear, all you can really do is let him hold you. You shiver occasionally, afraid of what he may do to you, but otherwise remain still. You don't want to get on his bad side.
After a while of peace, he gently places a finger below your chin, and guides your face up to meet his. He leans in, nuzzles your cheek a little with his nose, and takes a deep breath in. He lingers on you for a while - eyes closing in either bliss or contemplation, before walking once more. He scowls at the firepit as he passes it, beginning to carry you off in the direction he came in.
Where was he taking you? You go a little rigid, now realising you're being abducted. You panic, and it manifests in small squirms, trying to ball yourself up again and push away, levering yourself away from the yeti. You strain against him, and your small noises of fear and exertion perk his ears. He glances down at you tenderly, ceasing his stride to raise a gentle finger to your teary eyes. He swallows thickly and puffs out another deep breath, thinking for a while. He's not at all sure what to do, and doesn't want to risk failing to speak of his own accord, so instead just bounces you softly like a father cradling a child.
You feel warm and cared for, and become distracted wondering if he can actually understand you. However, your surrender was enough compliance for him to continue walking, and he carries on carting you off to goodness knows where. You wouldn't know this, but in truth, Leon was so confused. He hadn't come face to face with a human in years, nevermind one who was so brittle and terrified of him. Somehow, after all these years, he still imagined himself to be the hero, not the monster.
He hadn't intended to face you. He didn't mean to destroy your tent, or to plunge you into the freezing cold... What he'd meant to do was leave you there, before any of that could happen. He'd felt guilty. He wouldn't let his actions affect you and your sweet holiday so negatively. It was decided for him, he was sure he was helping you. He was going to fix things, and warm you up.
The cold and fear had left you weak. You sit in his arms, limp, knowing you couldn't get away even if you'd tried. The gentle rock of his body against yours as he powers through the snow soothes you. His warmth and strong scent clouds your judgement. Before very long, you find yourself snuggling into him somewhat as you watch your camp grow further and further away through tired eyes. He squeezes you gently as he feels you sink into him. One hand rubs up and down your back soothingly. It was ironic, as your captor, how much reassurance Leon was trying to give you.
"C-can you understand me?" You whisper eventually, raising your head to gaze up at the large man's jaw. His ears twitch a little and then he hums. He peers down at you, thoughtfully.
"Hm.. yeah." His voice is gravelly, rough and deep. It's quiet though, like he doesn't use it much.
"You can?!" Your eyes widen and you pull away a little. Leon was becoming quite nervous now. He feared this moment. He didn't want to talk to you at all. He knew he'd fuck up. In response to your question, Leon smiles sheepishly, revealing his sharp teeth. You get straight to the point. "Where are you taking me?"
He frowns and peers down at you. "My... home?"
"Why??" you feel hopeless again. He seemed human enough to appeal to, but then again, you had no idea what he wanted with you.
"...It's warm here" he eventually mumbles as you notice your surroundings suddenly getting a little darker as he carries you into a cave. You'd been so entranced staring up at him, that you hadn't taken in your surroundings for a while. As you do, you notice several random objects lying around. Some looked natural and from the forest like pinecones, sticks and berries. Others seemed very human. Smartphones, newspapers... clothes.
Oh no. You were going to die here.
At least none of the belongings seemed to belong to you or your family... yet. That was still terrifying though. Where was all this stuff from? Some of it was even torn... That's it, you're getting out of here. With a newfound vigour, you begin to claw at his shoulder and back, climbing out of his arms. For a second, it works, until he catches on and wraps his burly hands around your waist, yanking you back down to where he has a good hold on you. He ducks down to look you in the eyes, almost pleading. "Not gonna hurt you." His voice is a soft hum now, claws prodding you as he holds you still.
Somehow, he comes across as quite trustworthy. You couldn't be scared of him just because he's big, not when he's so clumsy and cute. And certainly not when he holds you and watches you as if you were the most precious, sweet individual he'd encountered. It was hard to ignore him, too, with his smooth voice and handsome face, and the careful way he leans over you as he carries you deeper into his cave to shelter you from droplets of condensation.
"Can you please let me go?" you plead.
"I'll take you" he hums, missing the way your eyes widen in shock and confusion. He jostles you up a little to make sure you stay wrapped around his waist and no lower, before eventually laying you down on some soft-makeshift bedding. You're so far into the cave that most of the light from outside is gone. Nobody would find you now, even if they saw the small gas lamp Leon lit beside you. He's about to lay down right beside you when he realises, perhaps, it's not the right thing to do.
Sheepishly, he motions to a spot on his own bed beside you. "Can I?" You have no idea what to say, so, you nod. You were in his home, if you could even call it that, you weren't gonna anger him. You felt as though you needed to make friends with him if you planned on getting out of this alive. And so, as the large man slowly got onto his knees before laying down on his side beside you, it struck you just how "Beauty and the beast" this situation really was. He groaned a little and his joints creaked somewhat as he slowly got down, propping his head up with one hand as he watches you.
Huge was an understatement, and whilst he did have monstrous features and strength, he seemed like the type to at least give you a kind death should he want to eat you-
No, stop. Why are you thinking like that?
You shiver, replacing his amused hum with another thick swallow. His wide eyes scan you.
"Still cold." his lips tug disapprovingly as he watches you lay there, and when you nod, he wraps a blanket around you that he got from goodness knows where. His voice echoed in the small cave, even if he seemed to be whispering now. Leon didn't like causing you fear, but he also didn't like ruining your shelter and warmth, and so, he sought to provide those for you.
You lay there, facing him. Slow and heavy breaths continue to rush over your face, fanning you as he invades your personal space. Yet for some reason, you can't bring yourself to move away. Turning your head momentarily, you eye your camp in the distance. Maybe if you could just get up and run now, you could escape him. Maybe he'd be kind and let you go. You shake again, the cave only rescuing you from the wind, not the biting cold his body provided you shelter from only moments earlier.
Suddenly, his burly arms are back on you. They wrap around you and pull you close, leaving you no space but to open your legs a little for him to get in between. He blankets you in a weighted embrace, head rested in your neck, pressed intimately close. "You're still shivering" He murmurs, silently noticing how your hairs stand on end at his proximity and gravelly tones. You feel his soft fur against your face, between your fingers. You can almost hear his heartbeat.
It's at this point, reluctantly, that you start to allow your attraction to him to manifest. The signs had all been there before as you admired his figure and strength, and basked in his voice. But now, you had no way of escape. You might as well just give in and enjoy the ride. So, you relax against him, wrapping your leg around him again, and letting him give you all of the closeness he can.
Leon knows this is wrong. He, at heart, is still very human, and knows that he should have abandoned you about 20 minutes ago after he destroyed your tent. Heck, he shouldn't have even gone to investigate. But he couldn't fight how good this felt. He couldn't fight the slow boner he was developing as you snuggled up to him so innocently, and he couldn't help wondering what a relationship with a human would be like, after all these years.
He also cant help the small shocked whimper he makes when you move down a little to snuggle up closer to him, and not-so-accidentally press quite firmly against his little issue. His hands seize your waist, threatening to move you, but when you tense in protest, he groans and goes limp, wrapping them around you again. He falls under the impression that if he keeps still, and if he keeps you still, you won't know what's really going on.
It was difficult to keep your morbid curiosity at bay, about fucking a literal Yeti. It was also difficult to not get too attached to the soothing warmth of his shimmery fur and hot skin. His slow breaths and small smile had you in a sleepy trance. You could fall asleep like this and rest. It would be the warmest night you'd get out here, and in all honesty, this was all starting to feel like a nice, cuddly dream.
Too much so.
"What do you want from me?" You lean back to look into his eyes which shoot open. He seems sleepy too. Your presence comforting him more than you could ever know. He stammers a little.
"W.. N- Nothing." he pleads, leaning in to press his forehead to yours. He thinks for a long while, articulating his words. "Just wanna... keep you warm, n safe." he sighs. You're digesting his response when his eyes shoot open in terror as he feels his cock kick against you once. He loosens his grip. This was terrible. He was being selfish. Maybe he should take you home now.
"Are you gonna let me go back?? I have a family out there, please." You whimper, giving him the eyes. He can't say no, he never wanted to hold you hostage. He just wanted to make sure you were ok and-
"Are you warm now?" he huffs, looking down at you to gauge your expression. In all honesty, you were warm, physically and emotionally. He was cute, too cute, and you could tell that he cared. For the first time since you'd met, you almost felt sure that he would actually let you go. And so, you wanted to test him. You pretend to think for a while.
"mmm, no." you smile up at him.
"No??" He seems shocked, running his hands over you to check, nuzzling his nose against your face. "You feel so... warm" he chokes out, eyeing you worriedly. He presses his finger tips to your forehead "you ill?" he grumbles "Where?" His huge hand works its way up and down your body, pressing everywhere he can whilst still being decent, checking for warmth. Then, when he identifies that your leg is a little cool, he wraps his around it.
You stare up at him. The answer is very simple. "Inside." you hum. He short circuits. Leon stares down at you, a faint blush just becoming visible beneath the fur of his cheeks. Inside? What did that mean? How was he meant to warm you up there???
Oh.
Leon stares at you in shock. He swallows thickly, and you decide he's just not sure what you mean, so, you decide to be a little more genuine about it. "Look... I'm... I'm not even sure if this is real. But I've never seen anything like you before and I'm just curious." There's a stunned silence as he eyes you up and down, thinking to himself.
"If you don't want to- it's fine." He wanted to. Oh boy did he want to. He just wasn't sure if it'd be right. He never imagined this day would come. He never thought he'd be able to fuck someone ever again. Leon hums down at you.
"Really shouldn't." those words pop your balloon instantly. You pout at him, but you're willing to take his answer.
"Why not?"
"No condom..." he sighs "Unless you-"
"No."
You both lay there in silence for a while before he crumbles, head falling to reside in the crook of your neck once more. You can tell he's thinking about it- taking you in, soaking into you. He's not felt more content in years. Cuddling up to you, he croons before placing a chaste kiss to your throat.
...Maybe he does want it...
You cover his cheek with small kisses, and sneakily reposition yourself against his throbbing cock. He whines, bucks into you once, and buries his fanged mouth against your skin where he feverishly kisses, trying to hide his sounds. Leon couldn't even admit to himself, let alone you, how pent up he'd been, and now? He wouldn't at all be able to let this opportunity slide.
One of his hands roams your body, sliding down to grip your waist possessively, tugging you hard against him. Then he retreats, realising his mistake. You grab his hand and return it to where it was, earning a playful chuckle and another shy buck of his hips. He runs that hand up your body twice more, watching entranced by the way it glides over your hips and chest, before using it to cup your face. He makes you look up at him.
"You sure?" He's hesitant, a little shaky. You're both very aware that this could end terribly. He could crush you.
"Uhuh.." Just like that, your fate is sealed. He leans in, and pulls you close for a hungry kiss. Expected from a mythical creature, Leon was a walking antithesis: His physical size and strength made him dominant and scary, and yet each of his actions was soft, caring and calculated... and needy. He whines as your lips meet his searing ones. He was so cute, so pliable. You're sure he'd do anything you wanted at this point, and so, testing your luck, you gently grind against him.
He instantly reciprocates, moaning a little as he clutches you tightly. Leon's ears sit flat to his head as he ruts against you, eyes screwed shut, mouth willingly opening enough for you to use some tongue. You've been making out for what, 2 minutes? And the man is already panting, groaning, rock solid against you as he humps desperately. When you slow down on the tongue, he licks eagerly into your mouth too, and moves to pepper kisses and licks all over your cheeks and neck while you catch your breath.
He's so cute, practically begging for you with his mouth but no words come to his aid. Instead, all the gentle giant can do is stare down at you with pleading giant puppy eyes. You want to go further with him. Guiding his hand down towards your sex, you intrust him to ready you. And oh boy does he. He swallows thickly, eyes locking onto you as if you're some mission or target, and he begins to work on you, slowly at first. He groans, cock kicking against you as he licks his lips. Eyes closed tight, kissing you all over, he doesn't even notice you undressing your bottom half until he hears you shimmy the fabric down your legs.
But that's when you feel it too. His hard cock poking out from his coat, slowly drooling copious pearls of precum, smearing his fur. He ruts it against you, the force of his huge hips shoving you so hard that you wrap yourself around him again just to stay put. Suddenly, Leon picks up his pace on you just where it feels best, rubbing with more force and energy than before. Unbeknownst to you, he had a plan. You let out a moan, mouth open wide enough for him to suddenly jam two huge digits in there. It didn't hurt, he wouldn't hurt you, but for a second, you feared for your life.
Even half way in, his fingers had you gagging, choking and drooling. You got them nice and wet for him, and as thanks, they'd be going inside you. Replacing his fingers with his tongue again, he needily whimpers and whines into your mouth.
"Fuck, you're w.. g-great... You're great" he groans, toying with your entrance, eyes shut once more as he grinds into you. He's slow, he understands his fingers are huge, especially by the reaction he didn't mean to elicit from filling your mouth with them, and so, once he breaches you, one finger at a time, makes sure to go slowly. He tries a bit of everything, thrusting, curling them, scissoring you open, all gently until he thinks you can take more.
He fills you so perfectly, so deliciously with just his fingers alone, and he knows what to do even whilst kissing you all over, but you don't dwell on where he got the experience. Leon nibbles a little at your lobe, trapping it gently between his sharp fangs, and moves towards teasing other parts of your throat and shoulder in this way until you begin grinding against his fingers, chasing something more. You snapped out of it a little when you realised just how large his member was. Easily over 7, maybe 8 inches.
And now, he was lining it up with you, holding his breath as he lets it slip, teasing your entrance a few times. It was thick too. The whole thing was just pretty, and due to his strange skin colour, where it would be red and angry it was tinged with a soft purple.
The last thing you see before he stuffs you is his brows furrowed in concentration as he lines himself up. As soon as he slides in, you groan and buck from the stretch of just the first few inches. He shakes, he twitches a little, and he curls up to you, holding you oh-so-dearly. His hips buck shallowly a few times but ultimately he's patient, waiting for the go ahead until he can continue to slowly fill you up. A few shallow thrusts and he works his way deeper, then he gives you a minute or so before repeating.
As bottomed out as he can be, Leon begins a torturously slow pace. He watches closely for you reaction. He's wondering what you like, what you want from him. Eventually, he's groaning with each slow thrust, apparently more edging for him than you. He quickens his pace, leaning over you, propping himself up as he pounds into you a little roughly now. He barely pulls out, each slow roll against of his hips against your sex making you want to cry out.
It's having an affect on him too. Before long, Leon is groaning and growling with each thrust. He's on his knees, body forcing your legs up against your chest as he pile-drives into you. His head hangs by your ear, occasionally nipping and sucking at you, but for the most part, growling like a feral animal. He slows down a little before driving a series of hard, strong thrusts into you with merciless force. Snarling and snapping his jaws, each smack of his hips shifts your body across the bed until he has to grab your ankle to pull you back to him.
He knows you're close, but he wants this moment to last and he's sure you do too. His breath tickles your ear between breathless chuckles, his voice deep and sultry, "H..heh... you ever... ridden a yeti?" As soon as you shake your head no, he purrs. "You want to?"
You nod. He picks you up with ease, temporarily leaving you empty and collapses onto his back. He's quick to fill you to the brim once more as soon as he's comfortable. He groans and throws his head back as you slide down him. And then, lets you work your magic. He groans under you, arms folded behind his head to cushion himself. His eyes follow you, watching you almost predatorily as you bounce on him, and occasionally, his hips snap up to meet yours.
"Fuck, you know, you're so... gnnn... good at this" he whines, trying to force his eyes to stay open so he can watch you.
He bites his lip, bucking up to meet you as his hands reach out for you. They're huge. One feels your body, supporting you, the other holds your ass, guiding you up and down. He smirks, clearly about to make another comment, when you reach down caress his chest, digging your nails into his pecs as best you can. His head falls back and he lets out an almost roar. "Fucckkk" he hums, staring up at you.
You're close again, but you're getting tired. Luckily for you, he understands. Leon sits up, wrapping his huge arms around you. He snuggles into your neck, littering it with growls and kisses as his hips go wild, pistoning into you with a force somehow he hadn't used yet. You were amazed, for such a large man, how hard and fast he could rabbit into your hole. His breaths deep, laboured and lustful as he lost himself in you.
It wasn't long before you were cumming on his cock, gripping his fat length like a vice. He groans, plugging his mouth with your shoulder, but not biting hard. You know exactly what's coming as he adjusts his legs, thrusting hard, almost throwing you up into the air if it weren't for his arms pinning you down to him. His growls and groans shake your core, rutting up in a similar fashion a few times as he pumps you full of his seed. And then he collapses, falling back against his bed. He pants and blushes furiously.
A small grin litters his face, he looks like he's about to pass out as he lays there, eyes narrow and chest heaving. It takes him a while to come down, cock still throbbing and kicking inside you. With how tight you are around him, there's no chance you'll spill a drop before he pulls out.
"Mmmm, fuck" he hums contentedly, hips jostling you upwards a few more times as he carefully reaches up to hold your face. His hand dwarfs your head easily, and he smiles. He's hesitant as he strokes your face. He knows what he did was probably wrong, but it felt so good. It delights him when, as he gently pulls you towards him, you come readily, leaning down to meet his lips.
This kiss isn't hungry or greedy. It's needy and loving. It's an apology, and a thank you, all at once. And when you pull away, his eyes flutter open to gaze lovingly at you.
He sighs, realising his time is up. "Alright, Take you back now, as promised." You're not having it. Playfully, you roll your hips against his and sigh down at him. His cock is half soft inside you now, and still feels great. He stares up at you, confused, ears perked. "What's wrong? Why not?"
"I'm cold outside again..." you pout. He chuckles, leaning up to grab you in a tight hug before laying down once more, this time with you as his captive.
"Well then, allow me to warm you up again."
And that he did.
Eventually you returned to your camp. With Leon carrying you, that is. If he'd given you anything, it was a severe case of jelly-leg.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
guys I just awnna have a little rant at u rn I'm sorry this fic is late and not christmas and Im sorry but I tried to write n edit this like 3 times and each time tumblr deleted my fucking edit im so fucking mad I had internet and I saved it as a draft the works but tumblr was a penis grrrr also, also, the times I edited it like and wrote some I had such good ideas for jokes and puns and things and good writing and now because iM fed up all my good ideas have left me so sorry that this fic is shitty bye thanks for existing ily.
the fic is so long im sorryy i hope you like him
#resident evil#re leon#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#re4 leon#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy x reader#resident evil leon#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy fanfic#yeti#fanfiction#fanfic#smut#leon kennedy smut#leon s kennedy x reader smut#gn!reader#yonten#cloud_meadow#cloud meadow
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IT'S FINALLY HERE
Thrilled to be putting up this behemoth of a fic I've been working on for two entire months at last! as part of @tsukimefuku's Spookinky event. Yes, I'm aware Halloween was also 2 months ago (sorry Fuku, and thanks so much again for helping beta read it!) Anyway, do check out the other works, they're incredible.
+18, DARK CONTENT AHEAD. You've been warned. See end of story for further author's notes.
abstract. It was a fairy tale, wasn’t it? Or a cautionary one, as most of them turned out to be. wc. 9.4k (strap in with a beverage folks)
tags. Yandere!Nanami Kento x F!Reader | established relationship | smut | dubcon | psychological drama | manipulation |
Jim knew that he was awake and asleep at the same time, dreaming of the war and yet dreamed of by the war…
Your eyelids droop, heavier and heavier with every pass you make at the sentences. You’re fighting against the font even, dripping off the page into the pitch black pit of your mind, those once thick and bold serifs ooze into obfuscation, molten as the afternoon congealing into dusk. Your focus has been wavering for hours in this stifling summer air, the dense miasma of words shimmering into a mirage of meaning.
You sigh, scrubbing a hand over your face as you let Empire of the Sun flop into your lap. You should have known; J.G. Bellard didn’t exactly stake his reputation on breezy prose. You have a suspicion the book’s about a week or two overdue, though Nanami hadn’t said anything. Well, it was his library card getting charged. You hadn’t renewed yours in years.
You rifle through your current slog; 300 pages give or take. Perhaps you should have been less ambitious, started with the short stories. Long ago, you’d read The Garden of Time. You had enjoyed it, you think. Your eyes slip shut, trying to remember how that story ended, but the details are fuzzy.
It was a fairy tale, wasn’t it? Or a cautionary one, as most of them turned out to be.
These days, you were living with your own Count Axel too.
You open your eyes, gaze instinctively flitting towards the clock whirring with its tick-tock mick-mockery, matching the taunting your ears had already gotten accustomed to. The second hand quivers a sliver past the hour, as exacting as an anorexic’s indulgence of a fractional slice of cake; and promising as much sustenance.
Where was Nanami? When would he come back?
Your stomach growls. The shadows have grown, black slats cast by the window grilles lengthening and slithering stark against the bleached gold of the walls. You hate this time of day the most, this inevitable boredom numbing your mind into mulch, too sluggish to tolerate even the most insipid of dating reality show reruns, which was all that was on TV. As for your once carefully curated stash of true crime podcasts, the thought of listening to them now was unbearable.
Something burbles in your belly, a strange gastric shriek acidifying into a yowl. You shut it out, closing your eyes.
Your present circumstances might make for a pretty good biopic, a thriller perhaps. Or a psychodrama. Grim amusement filters through your mind as you imagine actors you’d cast in the lead roles…who was that Danish fellow, who had played a Bond villain? He’d had a similar sort of malevolent charisma as the titular protagonist in that show about eating people…
A little too fixated on trying to recall the actor’s name, you don’t hear the key turn in the first lock. But the second schlick sends a jolt straight to your spine, muscle memory triggering you to leap to your feet. By the time the third and fourth bolts have slotted out of the way, you’ve sprinted to the front step, your exuberant chirrup eclipsing the hinges’ creak.
“Welcome home, Kento!”
He grabs you mid-lunge, as usual, chuckling as you fling your arms around his neck. He’s a little off balance today, with the bags dangling off his thick forearms but they still manage to curl, boa constrictor snug around your waist, the weight of their contents pressing you further against him.
“Hello darling,” he murmurs.
You let him bury his nose against your nape, feeling the burdens of the world slough off him as he inhales your scent, ever familiar, ever constant. Never changing.
Staring past the summit of his shoulders, you see dust motes drifting unencumbered in the scorched-tangerine shaft of the setting sun, the pavement glowing white, the bright brilliance of its incandescence and resistance petering into the imminence of night; all this, a few tantalising inches beyond the door.
You blink, the dark spots perform their pirouette, and the temptation passes. You put on a smile as you feel Nanami’s question rumble low along your throat, peeling you away from his chest as he carefully shuts the door behind him, zipping chains one through four back into place.
“I said, how was your day?”
“Oh, good. Pretty good. You’ll be proud of me.”
“Yes?”
“I got through a whole 4 pages in your absence,” you grin at Nanami, waggling the book at him.
“Am I proving such a distraction?” His tone is bone-dry, but you catch the glimmer in his eye, polished as fragments beneath flesh desiccated by a desert.
“You mean providing?” you hum, smoothing a palm across his pectorals as Nanami shrugs out of his coat.
Nanami tuts, catching your fingers and greeting them with a kiss,“You ought to know by now, your flattery has its consequences.”
“Seems like an acceptable risk.”
Nanami tuts and you feel his lips twitch over your knuckles at the belligerence lilting your tone.
“Well, I’m sorry sweetheart but I was picking up a few extra things for dinner.”
Nanami finally relinquishes your hand to set the bags down on the dining table. You gape as he proceeds to carefully uncover the biggest bundle of blue hydrangeas and pale yellow daffodils you’ve ever laid eyes upon, all exquisitely wrapped with an embroidered silk ribbon. Nanami holds the flowers out to you, savouring your little gasp as the full size of his generosity blossoms into view.
“It was a bit of an impulse buy,” he confesses, to fill your stunned silence.
“You expect me to believe this was a snap decision?”
“Well, no, I was intending to get a bouquet from the start but they’d run out of roses. The florist suggested these instead, plus they seemed particularly fresh.”
“They’re gorgeous, Ken. Thank you, and I think I like their scent much better.” You press your nose to the delicate petals for a moment before you go to fetch a vase, submerging the stems in a few inches of water.
“These make me wish I’d paid more attention to my ikebana classes in elementary school,” you comment, caressing one of the butter bright coronas. “Or maybe I could enrol in one of those community courses now.”
“Leave it to the shops’ experts, they know the optimal aesthetic arrangement.”
“Oh, of course. It’s just, it’d be fun to learn something trivial and new.”
Nanami’s smile at you is soft and relaxed. “I’ll buy you more flowers, you can learn through trial and error, Miss Independent.”
“That seems a little lavish. What if I just consult our neighbours across the road, I’ve seen them growing-“
“You can figure it out on your own I’m sure,” Nanami interjects, patting your cheek and you have to remind yourself not to flinch, letting your face go taut with a perfected smile instead. “Or with a book. It could even be a nice hobby for us both, right?”
“Sure, Kento. Sounds fun.” You sigh, separating out some of the stalks. “So this is why you were delayed by half an hour today?”
“Yes, I’m sorry dear.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
It’s quiet for a few moments as Nanami observes you carefully thumbing through the floral clusters.
“I was...just a little worried. I wish you could tell me in advance. Maybe a text?”
Nanami lifts a brow, barely perceptibly. “And you’d receive it with what phone?”
Swiftly, you recalibrate, your tone shifting into a playful inflection. “Or we can resort to pagers. Like it’s the 1980s.”
It was one of the ironies of this living situation; a tradeoff, Nanami would have termed it. Although you dwelled under the same roof, you communicated less than ever before with him.
Nanami shakes his head ruefully, plaintively remarking, “I didn’t think you missed doomscrolling more than me.”
“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,” you huff, setting aside the vase to place a peck on Nanami’s nose. Apparently random acts of affection usually worked to disrupt his morose musings.
You start to bustle with the groceries. “Don’t get me wrong, Bruckner’s 7th symphony on vinyl is exquisite,” you continue, “And I’ll be eternally grateful to you for making a cultured woman out of me…”
Nanami practically pouts at your exaggeration, indignation pulling the corners of his mouth down. You give a lopsided smile, pushing your luck.
“But…I’m just a little bit curious about the Top 40 stuff. Like what’s Ed Sheeran been up to?”
“That’s what the radio is for, dear. I’m not depriving you of pop hits.”
No, just music videos. And remixes. Plus you’ll never set foot inside another club or karaoke bar. Or attend a live gig. Hell, you’d pay dearly to hear an off-key sidewalk busker. Even a drunkard caterwauling in a subway.
Sounds from a lifetime ago. Better not to dwell on them.
You pull out carrots, a few stalks of celery, some onions. “You’re right. I doubt Square Roots or whatever mathematical function his latest album is titled after is a seminal turning point in his discography. I’m not missing anything.”
You survey the ingredients, feeling Nanami’s mild concern descend upon you as you ramble through your unexpectedly eloquent tirade.
You glance back up at him. “Anyway, dinner tonight involves a mirepoix?”
Nanami nods. You pass a hand hesitantly over the vegetables.
“It’s a lot of prepwork for a…a weekday, right?”
“It’s a Thursday,” Nanami offers to your unarticulated question. “And trust me, it’s worth it.”
This time the kiss he presses to your temple is a shade too tender.
“You’re always worth it.”
Your eyes flutter shut for a moment, letting Nanami’s words lodge deep between your ribs. Then, you carve a smile against his cheek.
“Who’s the one hoping for consequences now, mister?”
Nanami gives a light squeeze around your hips. “The meal will be ready in about 40 minutes.”
“Can I help?”
Nanami considers you for a moment, looking at your open face.
You skate your thumb across his knuckles, your voice becoming demure, saccharine in its wheedling. “I’ll just wash the vegetables? You’re welcome to do all the dicing and slicing.”
Nanami chuckles and you feel the tension ebb from his hands at your suggestion. He fishes out his phone and taps on Spotify. “What are you in the mood to listen to, darling?”
Walking on a dream How can I explain? Talking to myself Will I see again?
The upbeat 80s inspired synths pulse through the kitchen, a backdrop to Nanami’s knife working its hypnotic rhythm against the chopping board. You run the cucumbers under the tap while he slides the last of the cubed carrots into a bowl alongside the onions and celery, also cut into similar sized pieces.
“What are you thinking for the salad?”
“Yuzu-wafu for the dressing?” Nanami checks his blade, noting its dulled edge.
“Maybe some kind of vinaigrette? Would pair well since this variety is a little more tart.”
Nanami hums thoughtfully, setting down the knife. He strolls over to a drawer where the cleaver, scissors and matches are stored and after making discrete adjustments to its built-in number padlock, retrieves a whetstone.
“Good call, there’s some EVOO we need to finish up-” Nanami turns around and goes rigid, seeing the knife clasped in both your hands, poised just under your chin.
Thought I'd never see The love you found in me Now it's changing all the time Living in a rhythm where the minute's working overtime
You’re swaying back and forth to the melody, a distant look in your eyes.
“Dear?”
His voice is gentle, even gentler than usual. Which is plenty gentle already.
Your gaze slides towards Nanami, how he’s tracking the most minute shifts of the gleaming point hovering inches away from your skin. He’s perfectly still, not a tendon twitching, not a nostril flared; the air doesn’t leave his body, you see how it’s gripped between his lungs, as if the oxygen has become cement pooling in his valves. Nanami locks eyes with you, ochre irises shimmering tourmaline, exuding perfect calm. Waiting on you for his next heartbeat.
We are always running for the thrill of it, thrill of it Always pushing up the hill, searching for the thrill of it On and on and on we are calling out, out again Never looking down, I'm just in awe of what's in front of me
You grin at Nanami on the other side of the kitchen island, your captive audience as you belt out the chorus.
Is it real now? Two people become one I can feel it Two people become one
Nanami purses his lips, taking a step towards you. “Dear…why don’t you get the olive oil?”
Your grip tightens on the knife’s handle. You shut your eyes.
Is it real now? Two people become one I can feel it Two people become-
You don’t immediately feel his iron grip manacled around your pulse; instead what first alerts you to his presence back by your side are his lips brushing against your temple. And that’s worse somehow, than his touch molding over your whitened knuckles, and the sinews of your wrist gilded with their jagged deltas of silver.
“I love you,” Nanami states, one hand heavily dwarfing your fists. You release the knife into his grip without another word. He swipes a brisk kiss across your jugular and you feel the maniacal desperation bleed from you, receding into the whirlpool of your subconscious. What had come over you?
“You’re kinda pitchy, but I love you anyway.”
With that cavalier comment, Nanami starts on the cucumbers.
A joke. He's making a joke. Had he seen right through you?
Hasn’t he always? Another voice, almost perfectly resembling your own, whispers within your mind. And he always will. You’re a glass wall to him, utterly transparent, easily shattered.
And Nanami’s the only one who’s been patient enough to put you back together, the only one who can make you whole.
He knows all your fractures, enough to refract and reframe the truth. This was your choice to live as a one-way mirror, to reflect his desires; to orient to the prism without realising it was a prison.
You watch Nanami quickly and quietly julienne the verdant oblongs, the knife’s swift staccato the only sound for a while. You pinch a slender, perfect matchstick from the mound of green, holding it between your fingers.
“Is there a point to such precision?”
“It’s so everything cooks evenly. It’s the standard for mise en place cooking.”
“Miso what?”
“It’s another French technique.” Nanami puts down the knife on the far side of the chopping board before plucking the sliver of cucumber from you and returning it to the pile.
“Literally translated, it means ‘putting in place’.”
“I see, I didn’t know that before.”
You fold your empty palms in your lap, eyes downcast.
One hand still on the blade, Nanami settles the other over your fingers, his heated grip squeezing just tightly enough for you to feel your metacarpals briefly grate against each other.
“Now you do.”
As Nanami turns back to prepping the ingredients, he tells you, “Go set the table, dear. And open up the bottle, so the wine breathes.” At least one thing in this house can, you think, walking away from him.
“Taste familiar?”
The burgundy swirls in your glass, glinting like fluid rubies as you dip your nose over the rim.
“You know I don't have your refined palette, Ken. Just tell me already.”
Nanami shakes his head, nudging the ceramic dish towards you.
“Pair it with the cassoulet, then try again.”
You follow your spoonful of the hearty stew with a sip of the red, and this time notes of Pinot noir and brambleberries are more pronounced, as the tannins press their lingering tingle on your tongue, coaxing forth a vaguely familiar association from the recesses of your mind.
“I’ve had this before?”
“It was a fusion restaurant, Japanese-French. We had our first date there,” Nanami prompts.
“Oh! Jonquilla’s?”
Nanami smiles as his clues finally click together for you.
“I visited them before their evening service started, on one of my days off. Had a chat with their chef to recreate the recipe for the cassoulet, though I don’t know if the proportion of spice blends is identical-“
“Never mind accuracy, it was absolutely delicious, Ken. You’ve really outdone yourself.” You hum in satisfaction and satiation around the last mouthful of his culinary achievement.
“But what’s the occasion?”
Nanami’s brow arches, almost imperceptibly. “Today’s March 7th.”
You blink owlishly at him for an extended second, then abruptly recoil, stiffening with your realisation.
“Oh crap- I mean, sorry! I-I didn’t know.”
Nanami gestures placatingly, sliding his hand over yours. You stare sheepishly as he laces his fingers through yours. “It’s all right, love. I should have left a note in the morning.”
Timidly, you glance up at him. The mortification only churns with more turbulence seeing Nanami’s gaze brimming with affection and mild amusement.
“Umm...well, happy fourth anniversary Kento.”
For the first time this evening his smile falters.
“Fifth,” he corrects you, with the slightest suggestion of a sigh ghosting over the single syllable.
Your gaze plummets back to your hand underneath his. “Right, fifth. Five years.”
Five entire years...everything had changed; now none of your days did. All of them spent waiting, then waiting for him. The past three years had been an eternity, dwelling with a man you’d once been keen to spend forever with. The prospect had been a privilege, a certainty back then. When you’d been free to choose it.
Now, like death, it was nothing more than an inevitability.
The redundancy of your statement lurches heavily into the air; you and Nanami sit in silence for several epochs, its weight creeping into the room like a mastodon carcass emerging from permafrost. He splinters it first.
“You didn’t check the calendar?”
What would have been the point, etching out eternity by the day as if that would stall the lobotomy of this monotony? Every flick of a page would have been another papercut embedded in your epidermis, your spine chipped away ever quicker, just one more reminder of your sinews and synapses and wits atrophying, triggering an avalanche of spiraling, depressive thoughts and an even swifter, simultaneous erosion of your sense of self, your will to survive.
You can no more resist the scalpel than the cudgel, it’s an insidious chiselling of your core, to be remade in someone else’s image. Beatific as Helen of Troy, argumentative as an effigy.
“I forgot today and well, you know the saying, time flies.”
You pull your hand away from Nanami’s to examine the wine bottle, brushing a thumb over the label.
“It really is the exact same isn’t it?” you murmur, looking up at him with a wider smile. The Ice Age passes, and both Nanami’s tone and gaze thaws.
“I figured I’d speak to their sommelier at the same time, since I was there. Not many places import this so it took some convincing for them to part with one from their cellar.”
You raise a brow. “Please don’t tell me you spent more than-“
“It was complimentary in fact. Turns out the sommelier was a rather romantic fellow.”
“Sounds like he was giving someone a run for their money.” You lean forward, topping off Nanami’s glass.
With an appreciative chuckle, he responds, “He said it was the least he could do, bringing Provence to you if you couldn’t go.”
Provence, hah. If he only knew, the furthest place you’d been dreaming of was the konbini that had been a five minutes stroll from your old apartment. It was cramped, and the rent had been exorbitant despite being in a dodgy part of town - sort of a shithole if you were honest, but it’d been your shithole.
What colour had you painted the walls? Turquoise? Cerulean? No, aquamarine maybe,to match the canal you could just about glimpse from your balcony in summer-
“They really do a good job, highlighting the seasonal and regional specialties.”
You snap your attention back to the conversation, before the man opposite you can notice anything amiss. Perfunctory participation and trite observations were necessary to shield your most private thoughts from Nanami.
“Yeah, incredible menu. I loved the ambience of the place too.”
“The ambience?”
“Well, everything. The art, the lighting, that live violinist. It all adds to the dining experience, you know.” You let your gaze drift into the scarlet liquid swishing around in your glass, the garnet sparkles enticing in their reminiscence of sweeter, simpler times, when you and Nanami were just getting to know each other.
“Perhaps. I’ve never really noticed those things. That’s just decor.”
Now of course you know him all too well.
“Oh obviously the food should be the focus. And it definitely stood out. Your tarte tatin really took me back there.”
“Hmm, you know I suspect they used caster not muscovado after all,” Nanami remarks, scrutinizing the remnant fleck of pastry balanced delicately on a single tine.
“Sweetheart, tonight was a success,” you coo, patting his hand. “Trust me.”
Nanami relents, putting the fork down. “Even in the absence of a live violinist?”
You roll your eyes. “Yes, even without that.”
Nanami raises the stem of his glass, trying to hide how pleased he is. You copy him, gaze catching his as the both of you drain your drinking vessels. It is good wine, after all.
You hum, idly letting your fingers skate up Nanami’s forearms.
“Still, there’s lots of French fusion places around Tokyo. Why’d you pick that particular one?”
Nanami shrugs. “I went there with a client once, back when I was a salary man, so I knew it was good. I’d checked the more recent reviews too. Based off those I was convinced the 4.8 average rating it retained was warranted.”
You incline your head to the side, expectant. There were sure to be other factors, with this pinnacle of logic. Nanami pushes his spectacles up the strong bridge of his nose and sighs.
“And it was, well...equidistant from both our houses.”
You let out a mock gasp, voice fruity with an affectation of being scandalised. “Mr Nanami, I did not take you for such a schemer.”
Perhaps it’s the burgundy, but you can’t help but think the pink tinting Nanami’s cheeks is rather endearing.
He clears his throat, sitting up straight. “That’s not what I meant. Quite the opposite in fact. We both had assignments early the next day. I wasn’t...making any assumptions.”
You purse your lips together, withholding a smirk as Nanami stumbles through more of his rationalisations.
“I mean, it could have gone poorly too, you could have wanted to cut the date short. So I considered your cab fare wouldn’t amount to more than-“
“Well, our first date didn’t end early, did it, Kento?” you interject. You don’t know why, but it delights you to see a rush of poppies blossom downwards, beneath his collar.
“I suppose not.”
You relax back into your chair with a chuckle, feeling Nanami’s significantly warmer gaze on you.
“Actually, I do have a gift for you.”
Nanami reaches into his satchel and for a moment you’re worried a velvet box will materialise from it. To your relief, he instead withdraws a simple paper envelope, too slim and understated for any expensive jewellery.
“Here you go,” he says, sliding the envelope over to you.
“Takashimaya vouchers? Oh Kento, how romantic-“ You stop short of delivering the jibe when you see what his gift actually is - a library card.
Your library card, to be exact.
It’s your turn to be baffled now.
“You were racking up too many fines on mine,” Nanami’s expression is strait-laced, but his gaze is affectionate .“So I renewed yours.”
“Is there, um, some kind of new demerit system?”
“No, the length of the penalty period is the same as the overdue one. Basically I was barred from loaning out more books till you were done, Miss four pages per day.”
“It’s not my fault if the plot drags on,” you protest.
“Pick a more compelling read then,” Nanami smirks, “Or know when to give up.”
You examine the laminated rectangle, and the photo of yourself from five years ago stares back at you, her expression bright and clear-eyed, the set of her jaw resolute. Virtually unrecognisable.
“I can...pick up my own books?” you mumble, eyes still locked on your picture.
Nanami’s sigh is heavy and you hear him remove his lenses, setting them down on the table. You look up when he addresses you, and his gaze is tinged with the same slight weariness wrung from your name.
“Your residence needed to be updated, that’s all.” Nanami speaks patiently - no, patronisingly. “You can continue to give me the list of titles you want to check out.”
So, you wouldn’t be able to borrow the books in person, let alone browse the shelves in a public space, without him.
“I should...probably pay my late fees myself though, right?”
Nanami shrugs, “They don’t add up to that much. I usually take care of it with the petty cash.”
Money he wouldn’t miss. Transactions without a bank statement. Untraceable.
You’d never have to pay for anything ever again. And it had only cost you your freedom.
You slip the card carefully back into the envelope, face down.
Some unthinking machine would scan its barcode, would log your details, your preferences in novels and fiction, the imaginations you escaped into. On some arbitrary database, you’d exist.
Somewhere outside these four walls, you’d live.
“Thank you, Ken. It’s a lovely...gesture.”
You don’t think Nanami registers the pause, neutrally watching you empty the wine bottle equally into his glass and yours.
“Shame that’s the last of it,” you sigh, setting the bottle down. Nanami hums contemplatively as you drink up.
“It was... a nice restaurant. Would you want to visit it again?”
You stare at Nanami, not quite believing your ears at the sentimentality that has seeped into his tone, let alone his offer.
“Visit it?”
That would involve going back into the world. Strangers would see you. Might even interact with you. That would be too much, surely?
Nanami takes a long sip of wine before continuing.
“I could get candles and cushions and white linen tablecloths, or put a Poulenc record on...but I know it’s not the same.The environment does make a difference.”
You nod slowly, twisting the stem of your glass between your fingers. He reaches for your hand and you let him hold it.
“You could do your hair, nails, get dolled up and all, just like old times. There’s this dress in a corner boutique I go past every day, that I think you’ll like-“
“That I’ll like or you’ll like?”
He chuckles, “My dear, if you want to wear a burlap sack there you’re welcome to. I’ll insist to the maître d’ I have the most beautiful woman in the world on my arm, regardless.”
A blush unfurls across your face, looking into Nanami’s eyes and seeing the absolute sincerity and conviction there.
“I just want you to feel as special as you are to me, when we go.”
Nanami brings your hand to his mouth, eyes closed, taking his time to plant a kiss on each of your knuckles. Something constricts in your chest, watching the reverence and regret of his lips each time they have to lift a tiny fraction away from your rapidly warming skin.
“It’s where we started to make so many memories.” Nanami says softly, opening his eyes to stare deeply into yours. You sink into the rich russet warmth of those irises, mesmerised by the familiar tawny flecks shining bronze with pure adoration for you.
“If we were going to celebrate, it would be worth commemorating it there, yes?”
He almost whispers the question, with both his hands now clasping yours. Nanami brushes a thumb across your hand and you barely notice how it strokes slow, tender circles on your fourth finger.
Barely.
You know what he is truly asking. What he’s really after.
Would it be a celebration or a sentencing?
Even after all this time, it isn’t clear if there’s just the one answer.
You shut your eyes, taking a breath. You lean forward in the darkness, finding and anchoring your lips to Nanami’s, parting them to reel his soft exhalation into your mouth, feeling the tidal surge of his ache in his tongue tracing the very edges of your mouth, desperation lapping at your own control.
You haven’t permitted him this little in so long. You haven’t permitted yourself this much for even longer.
You break away just as his canines start to graze your trembling lower lip, whispering the truth through your teeth. “I’ve been utterly smitten by you, Nanami Kento. Too often, you know me better than I do myself. But I know you too.”
“And?”
You let the panted word hang in the air, savouring the way his anticipation swells through his button-up shirt, his chest rising and falling with each second that passes, that you hold out on.
You imbibe a heavy gulp of composure, some of the burgundy spilling past your lips.
Your glass chimes against the table with a definitive clink as you reply, “And I know how much of a hassle you find washing cast iron skillets to be. Restaurants would take care of that, right?”
Nanami’s face crumples into confusion, his consternation finding physical manifestations in the crease of his brows and down turned lips.
Maybe you’d gone too far, even if it wasn’t an outright rejection. He might interpret it as a stalling tactic.
“That was a joke, Kento. Of course I’d love to revisit Jonquilla’s with you. Or even a Mcdonalds drive-thru.”
“My dear, you deserve so much better than that sodium saturated crap.”
Your laugh quivers, rippling with the pronounced vehemence with which Nanami had spat the expletive. He pins you with a stern glare, but you will mischief to glaze over your face, like a visor.
“Y’know, I’ve kinda been craving their fries.”
Nanami wrinkles his nose, and you breathe a little easier. “How your standards haven’t improved, after years of living together with home cooked meals, is beyond me.”
“You’re such a snob sometimes,” you dismiss his disdain with a giggle, “You gotta realise there are just some things you can’t exert influence over.”
Nanami’s eyes narrow. “I’m not going to give up.”
“Suit yourself,” you lick the last traces of a sauce off the back of a spoon with deliberation, feeling his gaze track your movements. “I see no downsides for me, if that means more yummy replications.”
Nanami’s exhale through his nose is short and sharp; what passes for a laugh these days. He regards you silently for a minute, exasperation mingling and melting into fondness, ever so gradually.
It seems you’re out of the woods. Still, it doesn't hurt to keep him in a good mood.
You reach out to caress Nanami’s cheek lightly, and his eyes drift close against your touch. “You can take me anywhere you want.”
Everywhere and nowhere.
“How about we start with the shower?”
Nanami stands a few feet away from you as vines of steam coil around his granite cheekbones, wilting his collar, leaching translucence into the whites of his Oxford top. You see the fibres strain with every rise and fall of his chest, the vapours of his mouth melding with the swelling humidity of the bath, amidst fluctuations of hunger and hesitation.
“Are you sure about this?” Nanami murmurs, he braces his arms behind him, pressing his back against the tiles, breath expanding underneath his shirt. You gaze upon Nanami, a centurion sculpted by Rodin, a cornered animal.
You take a step towards him, feeling his heart hammer as you enclose your palm over it.
“It’s nothing we haven’t done before,” you whisper, reaching for his first button.
It wasn’t quite the same of course, as on the other nights. Usually your positions were reversed; Nanami, fully clothed, would strip you and usher you into the shower, only a sponge between you and him as he cleansed every inch of your skin. His own bath would be brisk, but he’d thank you for your patience every evening as you shuddered in the corner, eyes tightly shut. He didn’t seem to care if you stared at him with revulsion or resignation, the way a leopard would disregard a sparrow.
That was all your bodies had been to each other for the longest time, mere objects co-existing in space, empty vessels requiring maintenance.
It’s hard to remember that now, as a more carnal need pumps through your veins, as the fabric peels away from his skin, sleeves rippling slow in their remorse of being parted from his swollen biceps. You replace them with your palms, gliding over arms corded with sinews like steel cables. All this strength he’s never used on you, keeping you in his grasp by some other power.
No, it was exactly this restraint that restrained you; shackled to the myth that it couldn’t get worse, torture earning your tolerance, tolerance reaping your torture.
You thread your fingers through Nanami’s locks, barley sheaves darkening into rye beneath the spray and the circular motion of your hands, massaging shampoo into his silken roots. The cascade of water catches his lashes just right, fronds fluttering like the gold-gilded ruffled edges of ginkgo leaves at the terminus of autumn; yet, as you sink your fingers into the joints where Nanami’s nape connects to the base of his cranium, you doubt it’s the scattered droplets which are responsible for his eyes closing, or the guttural groan dragged from his throat, the octaves dripping much lower than you’ve heard in months, sending simultaneous sensations of heat dribbling down your spine and a lush insistence of warmth tugging through your gut.
Suds slip their foamy trail over the corded tendons in his neck, iridescence slathering over his chest and arms. Your fingers follow them, naturally. Nanami holds himself very still as you scratch your nails lightly over his pectorals and abdominals, tracing a path of your own design and desires, forgotten yet familiar. The terrain prickles beneath your wandering palms, goosebumps sprouting at your touch. But then, you reach a swathe of blue mottling into violet, and your hand hovers over it, a sickle sized smudge wrapped around his upper ribs. You can’t control the flood that suddenly surges to your waterline, blurring your vision.
All the violence, and all the silence. The endless chaos. This was the truth out there, and here was the evidence he kept from you.
The bruise spreads beneath your fingers, wider than your hand.
And what was the truth in here? Where was the danger? Long ago you’d confronted that same savagery, the senseless cruelty, those injustices he used to justify keeping you safe now.
You sink your thumb against the wound, dragging your anguish through it. You feel the breath juddering through Nanami, as he winces. But he doesn’t stop you.
You can hurt him too.
“It’s all right,” he whispers, leaning into your touch.
Monsters creating monsters, curses birthing more curses. Perhaps misery didn’t love company, as much as it feared and loathed enduring its own misanthropy alone.
There were worse things to lose than freedom.
You lift your hand away, to cup Nanami’s face instead.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, pressing the apology over his closed eyes. You feel them flickering beneath your lips.
“I’m sorry for all of this.” His gaze, when it returns to you, wavers wearily between guilt and grief. It’s dimmed and misty, there are no calculations, no charting these choppy waters; he sways towards you, a man (as before, as ever) seeking safe harbour, adrift in your arms.
You coax his calloused hands around your hips, and you’re uncertain for a few moments if the trembling from his fingertips has summoned the same across your skin, or if it’s your own nerves rippling outwards to his touch, all too tentative.
“Do you…not want to-”
You feel the answer in his immediate indentations upon your waist, squeezing your doubts into silence. But his gaze remains obscured behind his fringe, plastered to his forehead. You brace against the silence by sliding your arms over his, thumb circling the taut knot at the crease of his elbow. Gently you lay your cheek against his chest, savouring the solidness that has been so absent, and its underlying thump-thump-thump, far less steady.
You feel the breath rising through his lungs as he tilts your chin up towards him, voice rasping with frayed restraint.
“I want to. Of course I want you.”
Nanami drags his thumb from the corner of your lips to its plush centre, feeling it furl and yield without very much pressure.
“What if I want too much?”
For him to ask this now is a kindness you can’t afford. You don’t owe him this, he has reassured you of that much, tonight and many other nights. Perhaps it’s time that has taken its toll instead, so that with your last shred of autonomy, you choose to give, or at least give in.
“Just let me be selfish, this once.”
You angle your face towards him, lips parted and watch the light in his eyes shrink to pinpricks; firelight flickering out as bipedal silhouettes slink and morph back into the shadows of beasts -
coherence, logic, caution all consumed by more primal instincts.
And so, you anticipate his devouring, his half-snarl, his clash of teeth when he claims your mouth again for the first time in ages but it’s worse, so much worse. And divine.
His kiss is slow but no less forceful, the pressure gradually mounting, lapping at your lips then teasingly receding so you have to push up into him, deepening the kiss so quickly without you realising, only vaguely aware of your shortness of breath, of the most mild discomfort; the same dissonance of someone witnessing a revealed shore and wading further and further onto it, clueless that the waves are pulling back because of the tsunami surging towards them.
It’s too late by then, caught in Nanami’s undertow when your head rolls to the side, hardly far enough before it’s cradled by one of his large hands. The warmth from his palms pools across your nape, dripping down down down your spinal column, an erosion of stalactites as your weight melts against Nanami when he pulls your waist flush to his. He drinks in your whimpered surprise as you feel a smear, thick and wet, between your legs and prodding at your gusset.
Nanami finally lets you part for air but you cling to him, limpet-limbed. Your gaze and hand drifts down to where he’s stiff, scarlet and sobbing from his slit, globs of fat white pearls that remind you of the dryness in your mouth.
“So much…you’ve been holding back this much?”
Nanami had never responded this way when conducting your evening rituals of hygiene, had swept his eyes over your breasts and buttocks as efficiently as he’d inspected your scalp, elbows, knees. His touch had been mechanical, clinical to the point of brusque. You came to the conclusion then, over the years, that he was inoculated against arousal, that the sight of your bare flesh no longer titillated him, that on some level even, he was completely apathetic to your nudity. It’s impossible to argue such a stance now with the copious amount of evidence painting your thighs, the head bobbing heavily as it brushes against your skin.
“Sometimes at work…” Nanami croaks and you finally tear your stare away from his glistening length, to be sucked into the brine-dark whirlpools of lust churning in his eyes. “I’d…I’d take the edge off.”
“How?” you whisper. The crimson rush crests high on his cheeks and you reach out to caress his face, residual heat sweeping from your fingers down your wrist.
“J-just in a cubicle,” he confesses, averting his eyes. “Not often.”
During lunch breaks. In between meetings. Just before commuting. You hadn’t been able to keep your hands off each other, in those early days. So many late nights, and later mornings. Beds were irrelevant. Desks, couches, corridors, stairwells - the two of you didn’t need much to improvise intimacy, the sparse surroundings testimony to the inspiration you found endlessly in each other.
It must have been difficult, to forget and forego all that. It was, for you.
“Made it worse…I tried to stop.”
Nanami Kento, with his crisp collars, perfectly ironed jackets, shiny brogues - in a sterile bathroom hunched over fisting his cock with frantic, feverish tugs, struggling to sputter to a paltry climax, the spit in his palms a poor substitute for what he refused himself every evening,
so close, so easily within reach that he couldn’t take it.
Temporarily vanquishing his visceral ache for you, while heightening his hankering, compounding his cravings, haunted by his half-measures for months and months.
Diminishing returns, returning with a vengeance.
“Why not here, at home?”
You see the anguish flash across his face, feel the tremor in his hands as he clutches at your waist.
“I…didn’t want you to ever - ever - remotely consider that risk, with m-”
You crush your mouth to Nanami’s, pillow-soft lips pummeling his doubts into nothing more than the air that escapes with his choked grunt of surprise, tongue spearing deep past his lips to wrestle with his, an excavation of the remnants of his uncertainty.
“Kento…” And he hears his name panted, twisted through with such longing he has no choice but to look at you.
“You don’t have to stop yourself anymore.”
Coals glow in Nanami’s irises, you witness in an instant the incineration of his final vestiges of control. But even if you hadn’t caught the change, you feel it as your body is engulfed in flames for the remainder of the night.
Nanami grabs you, pins you to the wall as he nips kisses all across your nape, sucks bruises down the column of your throat, carnality swelling carnelian across your clavicle, as you claw ruby rivulets down his spine. He buries his pleasured growls between your breasts, stuffing his mouth with your mounds and moans and the stiffened peaks of your nubs, while his hands waste no time, grasping at every inch of you, your curves, the plush of your thighs, the fat of your bum, years of denial striking the flint of desperation, skin singeing against each other, ragged sighs breathing life into him, coaxing the inferno higher and higher.
And then his knuckles graze the lake of slick between your legs and when did he get on his knees and Nanami hisses your name, whiskey-smoked gaze drilling into yours, demanding not your permission, but your focus when he finally sinks his tongue into you, and the sob rips from your throat at his impatience, his insistence, lapping ravenously at your folds, retracing every crease and crevasse of you, tip curving into spots you forgot you had to chase and catch every drop drooling from your niche, greed driving him deeper to get closer to the mouth of the river, your lust already streaming down his face. He grinds your weight further on his face, disregarding your garbled protests, you cry out as the high bridge of his nose brushes your clit and almost immediately you regret it as he switches his attentions and abuse there, to that tiny bundle of nerves, tongue now stroking ruthlessly fast, alternating between flicking and wrapping tight circles around it.
A particularly vicious suck has your climax shattering over you, your wails of his name bouncing off the tiles and to your fascinated horror, falling on deaf ears. It takes you a few moments, with every synapse scorched beyond function, to realise that your jerking and spasms aren’t from your first orgasm, but an impending second. Because Nanami hasn’t slowed down for a fraction of a moment, your cunt still sealed around the cavern of his mouth, the beast within writhing its way back into its reclaimed burrow; you squeal and whine and squirm, but it’s no use, Nanami slaps a hand against your thigh, angling it to hook high over his broad shoulders to keep you splayed, the iridescence you’re spraying across his cheeks no match for the gleam in his eyes as he feasts and slurps and sucks.
His moans reverberating through your pussy seem to crawl their way up through your own throat, writhing into your garbled pleas for amnesty, for release. You’re convinced your pleasure is mere collateral, not the priority, to Nanami now, that he’s punishing you in some sadistic, delightful way - until you feel the swipes of his tongue soften and his smirk stretching you, in time with the tips of his fingers spreading across your swollen lips.
“One more darling,” he promises, pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh. You brace against the wall, whimpers tapering into relieved little mewls of his name as Nanami’s index glides inside you, pussy readily receiving every ridge and joint, liquid-smooth, as your resistance dribbles down his wrist.
“Gotta prep you, it’s been a while mmh?” he mumbles against your sodden core, starting to pump his digits in and out of you steadily, before he latches back onto your clit like an addict, picking up his pace and pressing into the soft spongy spots that have you erupting into your next climax.
But Nanami’s far from finished.
He withdraws his fingers, luminescent with your essence and sucks them…clean hardly seemed an appropriate word, but it had to suffice in your severely diminished mental state, as the aftershocks scoured every nerve ending south of your tummy, satiation severing any attempt by your neurons to connect.
Brain mushy and muscles gelatinous, you slump forward into Nanami’s solid embrace, his baritone rumbling sweet nothings to reinforce the trembling in your knees. In a single fluid motion, he sweeps you into his arms, bundling you up bridal style out of the bathroom, not bothering with a towel.
“Ken! I’ll get the bed soaked,” you complain, clutching at his biceps.
“That’s the plan, dearest,” he rasps, the menace in his voice somehow simultaneously melodious. Nanami tosses you down on the mattress, lips chasing the blush rushing down your bosom, mouth puckering around the pertness of your buds, alternating between his tongue’s gentle flicks and how he rolls them roughly between his fingers.
But Nanami’s only got one hand occupied by your tits. With the other you distantly hear him rummaging through the nightstand, sounding increasingly agitated. He cusses against your cleavage, and you hear a hollow cardboard box clatter off in the corner as he hurls it across the room.
Of course, neither of you had considered replenishing contraceptives in a long time.
Nanami sits back on his haunches, hands clenched on his knees. His erection juts tantalisingly between them, in a proud upwards sweep of roseate to vermillion, milky droplets already beading again from the heavy head.
Later, you’ll blame the flowers, the wine. Even that damned library card, for the next words that spill from your mouth.
But something possesses you, and you whisper in a voice you barely recognise as your own, “I don’t care, Nanami.” You feel his gaze snap from the offending emptiness of the bedside drawer to your hooded eyes, which are decidedly not directed at his face.
Your statement sinks into the silence taut between your bodies, and you feel the bed dip, as Nanami cautiously (but eagerly) shuffles forward on one knee, the hard silhouette of his length brushing against his belly. Errant pearls drip wastefully into the sheets, and you have to hold back a sob.
“Repeat it.”
“I…I don’t care, I j-just want…” your voice falters as Nanami looms over you, caging you in beneath his arms. His broad mushroom head glides along your slit, rivulets of your slick running from his tip down the rest of his cock. In all your years together, you’ve never felt him this way, with such intimacy, such bristling urgency.
“What do you want, love?”
“You, all of you.” The conviction crackles from your lungs at last and something snaps when Nanami suddenly sinks partially inside you, hips stuttering at your confession, gasps eclipsing each other’s at the sudden surge and squelch of wet and heat and clinging.
It’s too much and not enough all at once and it has your hips jerking up involuntarily, your body remembering there was more, that it was made for much more - but Nanami clamps down on them, shushing your indignant whines even as you try to draw more of him in.
“There’ll be time for you to regret your greed later, my girl,” Nanami chuckles his hoarse assurance, and there’s something about the specific blend of his tone; the sardonicism, the delirium, the absolute warmth under it all that is completely familiar to you. You slip into surrender, relaxing entirely into the kiss you drag him down for.
Nanami is slow to sleeve himself fully within you, savouring how your expressions flicker between frustration and pleasure, a reticence resonant with the way your pussy flutters around his girth, beguiling in its struggle as Nanami feeds you his meat, inch by throbbing inch. You feel him wrestle with the dilemma too in the aberrant twitches of his cockhead, leaking pre-cum, as if your passage weren’t satin-slick enough already and arduous with your ardour.
It’s a surreptitious, viscous cycle; you get more sodden and sensitive with every incremental shimmy Nanami presses into you, the teasingly measured secretion of his slimy trail inside you mingles with your own wet wantonness, the excesses of this elixir dribbling down the remainder of his length and coating your already considerably saturated walls, making it harder and harder for him to resist slamming the rest of his way inside you.
He knows you could take it, that you crave such treatment even, but he wants even more to commit this eternity to memory, not simply the glorious, torturous novel sensation of fucking you raw but the way your face shifts from arousal to adoration, back and forth, again and again, as he seeds a new addiction inside you, gradually stretching you past your former limits; physical, emotional, moral.
Nanami presses a stilted groan into your nape when he bottoms out inside you at last, laving his tongue over the film of perspiration clinging to your collarbones, as if there were some secret adhesive he could absorb to keep himself together, to prevent himself from falling apart with every rippling contraction of your cunt, as your being is molded once more around his pulsing length.
“Ke~nnnhg…” you moan, and he twitches hard inside your gluey, velvet-vice to hear his name so stretched out, like gum, like rubber, like the dearth thereof, of any barrier between your bodies when you squeeze around him, deliberately this time. There’s an abundance of obviousness that it’s your action, not a reaction, by how your voice tremors with the effort.
“Already told ya,” you huff, “You don’t have to stop yourself anymore.”
And perhaps it’s your petulance, how you’re pouting this reminder of your mutual needs to be devastated, that sets Nanami off, that has his hips snapping forward, callous and careless at last, his thrusts initially sharp and shallow building quickly into an erratic rhythm that you can barely keep up with, letting yourself be jostled and pounded and shaken like a ragdoll, like Nanami’s exclusive fucktoy for him to drain his desires into.
“Fuck, angel, so fucking perfect. Gonna fill you up, make you so swollen with me, mmh?”
Your keen peels from your ribs, pitching high into the air, as Nanami continues to whisper filth and praise and promises you can’t quite comprehend, the only sounds, barely intelligible, is his slurring of your name, the syllables stringing stickily together like the messy ropes of cum swaying with every plunge of his cock back into your cunt, relentlessly bruising those spots that make meteors flash across your screwed shut eyes.
“Ken, K-Kento! Ah, ah- missed this so much, m-missed you!”
It’s your last attempt at coherence before your climax crashes over you and you clench around Nanami’s spurting cock, his broken bellows echoing through your bones and veins as he cums shortly after, flooding you, tethering you. You arch into him, receiving each pump, pulses blending with tongues tangling, till there is no distinction between tributaries and alluvium, between river and ravine, only the abundance of silt from his slit, nestled snugly against your cervix.
Nanami shifts to settle you in his arms, some of his spend seeping from the apex of your thighs.Will there be a price to pay? The potential of a gynecologist’s scrutiny, doula appointments, consultations and consolations, complications and consequences, another presence at last in this house…you push these questions far from your mind.
Because the night doesn’t end there of course, you don’t recall if it ends at all. It’s a haze of hormonal hedonism, hours lost in the fog of damp breaths and senses swamped by desire. It is as if you dreamed it all, drifting off with Nanami inside you, waking to find his hunger unabated. Any concerns the morning might bring are cloudy, what is crystalline instead - what you choose to curate - are the sparse intermissions of his syrupy kisses over the words you exchange, that he demands to hear with your will languishing, effervescent as the vow he pulls from you, but will hold you to, lingering in the long shadows of your subconscious: I’m yours and you are mine, I need nothing else.
Seraphim, succubus, sorceress...all these accusations and adorations Kento lays at your feet, worshipping at the altar of your thighs, whether you were astride or under him. Calling you his cornerstone, a becoming like cinder blocks around your ankles.
Drunk off of him, kisses spilling kerosene and casks of Amontillado, your kindness your kindling, immolated by indulgence. You’d yearned for this too, his hunger feeding yours, an Ouroborous of obsession wrapping around your arms, chest, eyes so you couldn’t see how symbiosis ceded to the parasitic, the pleasure paralytic, ambrosia abused into anaesthetic until it cemented your ruin. Your comfort and his catharsis was a drug, yet you do not stop to wonder if this love had never been medicinal, if it had been narcotics lavished against necrosis.
It was too late for either of you to realise he’d never healed, amidst the eternity of nights spent with your lips sealed to Nanami’s like an oath. He never cared or dared to question destiny, yet never been so sure he’s meant to share his with anyone except you. But Fate has always been cruel to the best people he’s known and known too late just how much he needed in his life.
And he couldn’t possibly be crueler than Fate, could he, if it meant protecting you?
Sworn and bound to this, but it unleashed an ancient anguish that had festered for far too long in his heart, aches that should have stayed buried, instincts that should have gone extinct; His salvation now only in the mutation of satiation into starvation. Every love bite and bruise stacking upon each other’s skin like bricks in a citadel for two. You were his fortress, his hearth.
You didn’t know he was building you a pedestal, a pyre, a pyramid.
All to serve a goddess in name, in invention not intervention. Does it matter? Nanami strips you of your mortality, your humanity. You are a being of infinite benevolence and eternal beauty, a deity who deigned to age alongside him. He would grow old with you. Even if it meant dooming you to dwell within a sarcophagus.
Nanami looks upon you, you are enshrined, entombed. He engulfs you in amber; Your life preserved, your love petrified.
thanks for reading!
a/n:also wanted to say I owe a debt of inspiration to @saintshigaraki's fic which has one of the most realistic, seductive portrayals of a Yandere Nanami I've read. Mise En Place would not exist without it.
@houseofsolisoccasum
#nanami kento#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami kento x y/n#nanami kento x you#nanami kento x reader#kento x reader#nanami kento smut#spookinky2024#sandsorghum
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Laurina Globe Awards, sometime during the Fourth Age, Valinor
Melian: And I would like to present this award for her contribution in the War of the Ring to.........Galadriel.
*cue thunderous applause*
Galadriel: I want to thank the late great Professor Tolkien for writing this remarkable saga. I want to thank our remarkable crew of Elves, Men,Hobbits, Ents and Dwarves. They all know who they are. Okay next. We had many producers in the War of the Ring. Elrond. Oh Elrond. Thank you for your lifelong commitment to destroying the rings. Thank you Celebrimbor, for making the rings in the first place so that we could destroy them.
Galadriel:....... okay, I'm going to hurry up now. Two incredible men who are such special people in my world...and Gandalf I'm so happy I can stand here and tell you how much I love you and how much I've loved you for three thousand years. Your performance in the Third Age has been nothing short of spectacular and I love you with all my heart. I really do. And my husband, Celeborn. Thank you for managing Lothlórien, babe. And thank you for killing time in Middle Earth every single day after I sailed West. But I can honestly say with my hand on my heart that I enjoyed every second of working with you and it's made me love you more.
Disembodied spirit Sauron somewhere in Middle Earth: .........wait that was it? No mention of me? The fucking Lord of the Rings?! I am the reason why all this happened in the first place. How can she forget me?
Homeless Spirit Saruman: You have been awake since before the breaking of the first silence. In that time, you have had many names. Perhaps she got confused about which one to pick. And you did commit a lot of bad deeds -
Spirit Sauron: So did you, doofus!! But I am different. Gal and I go way back. Didn't she ever tell you about the raft? The ship? Numenor? Those mind palace sessions?
Saruman: She didn't. You did. A billion times.
Sauron: How could she not say my name? She even mentioned goddammit Olórin's name. Wait a second.........she has loved him for three thousand years?! I thought he was her rebound during that Dol Guldur business. Why didn't you tell me he has been my girl's sidepiece for that long?
Saruman: To be fair, you didn't let me have much of a word when you were busy crying about your flop love story -
Sauron: Whose love story did you call a flop again?
Saruman: He he he.......aren't you missing the rest of the award show?
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As a Matter of Fact [Teaser]
reader x jihoon
masterlist | Chapter 1
summary: when you're caught in a simple lie, the best solution? dig in and stick to your guns until everything inevitably goes wrong and everyone gets hurt
or, a serial dater and a pessimist fake a relationship in the vain hope that nothing will go wrong
genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, lawyer au, coworkers to lovers??? friends to lovers???? fake dating!!!!!
warnings: drinking, food, arguing, refusal to acknowledge feelings, two kisses, whatever is going on with Wonwoo, suggestive jokes (courtesy of Wonwoo)
teaser wc: 1.5k
full wc: 38k (I’m sorry)
a/n: AHHHHHHHH i've been working on this for too long, I'm so happy that i'm finally sharing this with you all!! I'm gonna split the full story into chapters but i'm not entirely sure how many there will - though it's all written (AH), it still needs editing so i will keep y'all updated <3
edit: I’m estimating roughly 10 chapters, hopefully released weekly (first date 2/14!!!)
updates: every tuesday
finally if you would like to know when the first chapter drops, just send an ask <3
If Jihoon was stopped on the street and told to name three facts about you, he could probably do it. He doesn’t know your favorite color, or what you ate for dinner last night, but he knows where you went to school (since it’s been the same school as him since elementary school) and where you work (since it’s the same law firm he works at). He might struggle for a bit for a third fact, but eventually settle for this: you are hopeless when it comes to love.
Unfortunately, Soonyoung isn’t asking three facts about you, he is asking what Jihoon has planned for your anniversary. Jihoon blinks at Soonyoung, standing beside his table.
“My anniversary?”
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “With yn?”
He runs a mental check of any possible thing that Soonyoung could be referring to, then checks his calendar on his phone. Both come up empty.
To be honest, Jihoon would be more surprised if there is something he’s forgetting. Despite knowing you for so long, he’d never call you his friend; at best, you're a coworker.
But the way Soonyoung is looking at him now makes him wonder if he’s forgotten something, and worry that whatever he’s forgotten is important.
“You don’t have anything planned?” Soonyoung says, loud enough for the couple sitting at the table across from Jihoon look up. Soonyoung doesn’t seem to notice. “Dude, it’s been a whole year. I can’t remember the last time yn has had a boyfriend for a full year, you have nothing planned?”
Boyfriend? Jihoon stands up, snapping his laptop shut. “Look, I don’t really know what’s going on, and quite frankly, I don’t have time for it. Tell yn, or whoever is behind this prank that it’s not funny and to grow up.” He leaves Soonyoung standing there frowning, leaving the coffee shop and pulling his satchel over his shoulder.
It’s a short walk from the coffee shop to the firm, and Jihoon uses it to think things through. Here is what he knows: 1) Soonyoung is your best friend since middle school 2) he isn’t the type to lie about this for fun and 3) you have sworn off dating (a fourth fact!). So either A) Soonyoung lied (uncharacteristic) or B) you’ve lied (not out of character for you, you are a divorce lawyer). He figures the second option makes the most sense, though the why still troubles him. He waits for the elevator staring at his distorted reflection that makes face shrink and his ears look comically large.
There’s a small ding and the doors open, a stream of people flowing out that Jihoon politely steps to the side to let through. Thankfully, it’s a much less crowded ride up, only a couple other people, none of whom are going to the firm on the nineteenth floor. Jihoon is able to focus completely on the person he otherwise has spent very little time thinking about: you.
Despite knowing you for so many years, Jihoon really couldn’t say much about you (see above limited list of facts). What he does know is usually filtered by Wonwoo, whose office is next to yours and separated by rather thin walls. Jihoon didn’t expect Wonwoo to be into gossip, especially since he’s known you since law school and actually calls himself your friend, but Jihoon has heard more about your love life than he ever wanted to. That’s why he knows of crucial fact #4: You have sworn off dating.
He knows, from Wonwoo, that after your third boyfriend in as many months, you gave up on ever being able to balance dating and work, tired of having your heart broken over and over again. According to Wonwoo, who allegedly heard this from you on over the phone with your friend (which Jihoon thinks is at the very least an invasion of privacy, but Wonwoo argued you were on a personal call during work hours so it’s free game), you cited your failures in love to your own tendency to “catch feelings too fast” (he isn’t sure if Wonwoo was quoting you or using his own words, but they stuck with him). But, from Wonwoo’s lamenting, he knows that you’ve since sworn off dating, giving up on the pains of failed romance. So why does your best friend think that you’ve been dating him for the past year?
He isn’t thinking when he walks into your office without knocking. You’re on the phone, though you hang up quickly when he walks in. You’re frowning, and he wonders if Soonyoung was on the phone when you hung up. You stand as he pulls the door shut behind him.
“I can explain,” you say, confirming his suspicions. “It’s not what you think.”
“Oh, so you haven’t lied to your friends and told them we’re dating?” Jihoon says, folding his arms.
“It sounds bad when you say it like that,” you mumble.
“It is bad,” he says, shaking his head. “Honestly, you’re lucky I don’t report you to HR. This is borderline harassment, you really should know better.”
“I know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.
“Seriously, did you think you could get away with it? Soonyoung went to middle school and high school with us, surely you knew this wouldn’t last,” he says. “What were you going to do at a reunion?”
“Well, I didn’t go last year,” you mumble. You leave out neither did you, but when you meet his eyes, he can tell that you aren’t totally beat. Not yet.
“I just thought you were smarter than this,” Jihoon says. “I mean, we don’t know each other well, and I know you never scored as high as I did on tests, but I didn’t think you’d be this stupid.”
“I get it, you think I didn’t think this through,” you say. “I really am sorry, but I don’t have the time to listen to you lecture me for a full hour, so can you at least make it quick?”
Jihoon blinks. “Why?” He says, more statement than question. “Why did you lie?”
You sigh, slumping into your chair. “Long story very short, I had a few too many bad relationships and I decided I wasn’t going to date anymore because apparently I have a tendency to fall in love with brick walls.”
Jihoon figures it’s a bad idea to tell you he already knew that, opting to nod so that you continue to explain.
“The problem is, pretty much none of my friends believed that I would actually be able to keep it up,” you say. “They thought that I’d fall for the first person that gave me an ounce of attention. The thing is, it actually did work. I haven’t been on a date in a year, and I think it’s been really, really good for me. But my friends didn’t believe it.
“So I lied. I told them I started dating someone from work, and I did think it through: I said someone from the firm, since they don’t know anyone, and because my mystery boyfriend is a lawyer, they weren’t surprised when he was busy all the time and couldn’t come to anything. Plus, since it was someone from work, I could say that we had to keep everything quiet because I told them dating wasn’t allowed. Everything was perfect, actually.”
Jihoon can almost see your logic. Almost. “Why me?”
You’re quiet for a long moment, staring at your closed laptop. “They wanted a name, and yours was the first I thought of, and then the lie just sort of took on a life of its own.” You have the audacity to smile. “Did you know that you’ve been in love with me since elementary school?”
Jihoon scoffs. “There’s no way they believed that.”
“You’d be surprised,” you say, smiling fondly. It vanishes when you meet his glare.
More than anything, Jihoon is confused, but the one thing he is sure about is that he doesn’t want anyone walking around thinking he’s dating someone that he isn’t, especially not when that someone is you.
He can’t think of anyone more different than him, and your office is testament to that, filled with all sorts of knick knacks and brightly colored pillows, mugs from around the world strategically spread around your bookshelves, which hold a combination of books on law as well as classic novels and collections of stories. He remembers that before you went to law school, you majored in English. Pride and Prejudice sits in between a copy of War and Peace, with a bright red glass ornament keeping them upright.
He thinks about his own office. His only decorations were at the insistence of Seungkwan and Seungcheol: a plant that Jihoon was actively trying to kill (and starting to suspect is fake), a set of colorful highlighters that he would never use that Seungcheol said “lightened the room,” and a framed photograph of all of his friends at Seungkwan’s graduation. The last piece, a gift from Seungcheol, is the only one he will admit he doesn’t mind having in his office, but he could live without everything. He doesn’t know how you manage to work with so much going on in your office.
But the biggest difference between the two of you, Jihoon realizes, comes from a fundamentally different understanding of the world: while you seem to find love in everything (and everyone), Jihoon simply doesn’t believe it exists.
if you would like to know when the first chapter drops, just send an ask <3
#jihoon x reader#woozi x reader#lee jihoon#woozi#svt woozi#svt jihoon#seventeen#svt#seventeen x reader#svt reader#woozi fluff#woozi angst#lee jihoon fluff#lee jihoon angst#seventeen woozi#seventeen Jihoon
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Chapter 38 could have been the beginning of the end of Who Holds the Devil
(Slight spoilers for the chapter below)
The other day, as I was editing the chapter, my wife asked me if I was having another existential crisis (I was apparently making very worrying noises) and while I said no at first, I had to change my answer a split second later.
Yes, I was having an existential crisis.
Because I had just realised that if I deviated from my original plan for chapter 38, I could cut the rest of Who Holds the Devil in half. Or even cut so much as three fourths, if I felt like it. Sure, that would require scrapping the overarching storyline I've been building, throwing out a lot of the character development I've planned, as well as rushing through a lot of the healing/trauma work required for my original storyline, but it was possible.
Basically, if Ga On had opened that door, everything would be different. Or, for that matter, if Yo Han had heard him crying (which he didn't — sorry to those of you who hoped that he did). Because even if they had argued and Yo Han was hurt, he would go to Ga On without hesitation if he heard him crying outside his door. Because he loves him too much not to.
Point being, if they had actually talked there at the end of chapter 38, everything I have built towards would have toppled like one of Yo Han's card houses. Because Ga On would have said just about anything to right the mistakes he'd just made. And while that might sound like a good thing, it's not. Because Yo Han wouldn't take that as Ga On expressing genuine feelings for him, but Ga On panicking due to his abandonment issues. He'd think Ga On was just doing whatever he could think of in order to make Yo Han stay, including lying or gaslighting himself into thinking he's in love with Yo Han.
It wouldn't actually have helped all that much, is what I'm saying, because that's not a good foundation for a relationship.
But I COULD have done it. I could have cut down the amount of time I have left to spend on this fic so drastically that, yes, it gave me an existential crisis xD
Partly because this fic has become a huge part of my life in general — to the point where I'm not quite sure who I would be without it — but also because I realised that I was tempted. A part of me wanted to do it. Because every chapter takes everything between 10 to 30 hours to finish when you count all the writing and editing — though several times I've ended up closer to 40 (which is a lot while juggling a full-time job and long Covid). I've written 38 chapters so far and it has taken over two years. And I can't say how much further I will have to go — how many more chapters or years I'm going to have to dedicate to this fic in order to actually finish it.
So, if only for one evening, the thought of cutting it short was VERY tempting.
But, clearly, I didn't in the end. Partly because I still love this fic so incredibly much and I want to write it as it's meant to be written. Also, it would have felt like such a waste to throw away all those plot threads I've been weaving because of... idk, laziness? And I would have to force Ga On and Yo Han together before either of them are ready for it, which would result in a much more fragile relationship in general.
So, long story short, that's why Ga On didn't open the door. I know it may have seemed cruel of me not to let him while you were reading it but, if I had done it, everything would have changed — and not necessarily for the better. Not to mention that you would have gotten a whole lot less fic in the end xD
So yeah. I made the choice to stick to my original plan but, hopefully, it will be worth it in the end.
Thank you for your patience :)
#Amethystina Writes#Who Holds the Devil#I'm not sure what to tag this as#An explanation?#Me making excuses? xD#Like#I have a reason for everything I write#But I understand if that reason isn't always obvious to you all#And it can't be easy to trust me through all of these twists and turns#I honestly don't envy you#But I am very grateful to those of you who are willing to keep reading#Never doubt that#Your dedication is so humbling#Thank you 💜
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hey! ^^
I'd like to request Servamp + the high school prompt please!
Thank you~
(if someone requested Servamp + the vampire prompt i wonder how you would've done it hahaha)
You make such a good point - if someone had requested that, it really would have been a fun time trying to come up with some vampiric twist! I love high school AU's though so this was a fun one to write and I hope you'll enjoy! I honestly think this is the longest thing I've ended up writing in a while but the idea for the story and the universe really got away from me.
Welcome to Servamp Academy (sue me, dear readers - I suck at naming things so bad)! It's not just a high school, but a boarding school for high school students. And not only is it a boarding school, but one with a very old, storied (and lately a little fearsome) reputation.
It was established far before anyone can remember, and for the past twenty years, it's Headmaster is a man only known to the public world as Sensei. He was very famous, but in recent years, the last five years or so, nobody has seen him in public. Though the school has remained voiceless about its Headmaster, truth be told, he hasn't even been seen by the school's staff for at least that long, with emails being the only way he communicates with his staff anymore, giving them his orders, which they still faithfully follow.
Servamp Academy accepts only the best and the brightest of students. In fact, it's normal class size is at most 15 students per year. These students are prodigies, geniuses, children of elites - in short, the top 1%. But in every first year class, there's one student who gets in via a public lottery. It's a really big deal, as the school is known not only for its high tuition costs but also for churning out the future leaders, artists, celebrities, and movers and shakers. All of its graduates go on to live almost impossibly charmed lives.
However, there's a shadow over Servamp Academy this year as the school opens its door for the school year again. At the last of the year, Servamp Academy had to close its doors for the summer vacation early and under horrible circumstances. One of its students, Ophelia, the daughter of a foreign ambassador and someone who was making a name for herself as a model UN representative and a leading actress in many school plays, went missing near the start of summer break, with her room found ransacked and bloody. The police investigated but could not find any trace of her…until her body was found over summer break, hanging from the Academy's clock tower, while all the students and staff were supposed to be on vacation. There are many rumours regarding her death, with no exact cause of death or any leads being found by the police, and Servamp Academy is opening its door for the new year with those frightening rumours haunting everyone's minds…
So, there is another weird thing about Servamp Academy. All of the incoming first year students have mandatory 'buddies'. So, the way it works is that after graduating the first year, the best of the second years are chosen to mentor and lead the new first years. The remaining second years, if there are any, play back up mentors and also step in to help and guide the first years. According to the school's guidelines, this is to help the students learn leadership skills that are necessary for success in life. These buddies live with their assigned first years, and the remaining second years, if any, live on an additional floor above the first years in their dormitory so that they can be close at hand. Once students have graduated to the third year, they learn the coursework they would have normally learned in the second year, and then graduate on to the fourth year, their final year before they graduate the Academy. The Academy also has an affiliated university for those students wishing to go on to higher learning.
This year's lottery winner for the first year is one that drew a lot of attention. There's a lot of rumours already around this first year, people outraged and crying school favoritism. That's because this year's lottery winner was the child of one of the school staff members. In particular, the school's student counsellor, Tooru Shirota. His nephew, who he's legal guardian of, won the lottery to get into the school. While the school does pay its staff well, their staff can't afford the tuition on their wages, not without being independently wealthy themselves, and it's only ever happened once before, the previous year, and though the school gave all the public assurances, it's widely known among the staff and even the students that that one was definitely school favoritism.
Mahiru was initially really worried about winning the lottery. It seemed simpler to just go on to a normal high school but once chosen, he figured it would be more trouble than it was worth to refuse the lottery win. Besides, his uncle works lots of long hours at the school so he figures it would be nice to have the opportunity to spend more time around his uncle. He's even able to pretty easily shrug aside the nasty rumours and the student death of the previous year. It has nothing to do with him and he's sure the school is perfectly safe.
Mahiru arrives at the school to find even more luck on his side. He'd been best friends with Sakuya Watanuki since the two of them were in the sandbox together. Sakuya had moved away the prior year, after some family tragedy that Mahiru never got the full story on, and it was really hard to lose his best friend. So imagine Mahiru's surprise and joy to find out that Sakuya, a prodigy at reading people's body language and facial expressions to the point that he'd been called a human lie detector by some, had been scouted by Servamp Academy and was also a fellow first year. While the Sakuya Mahiru re-met was more somber, a little different and more withdrawn than the one he'd always known, the bond of friendship was definitely still strong and both boys were just glad to see each other, to be together again.
Mahiru's 'mentor' was supposed to meet him at the gate when Mahiru arrived for orientation. However, his buddy was nowhere to be found and it was actually lucky that he saw Sakuya. Sakuya and his 'buddy' guided Mahiru as to where to go for orientation and it was while waiting for orientation to start that Mahiru first met his buddy…who was being forcibly dragged, complaining all the way, towards Mahiru by another first year and their buddy. Mahiru's buddy? Kuro, whose genius was only surpassed by his complete and utter laziness. This whole mentoring business? Way too much work and way too much trouble in Kuro's opinion but the staff insisted and the two were forced to find ways to live and work alongside each other. They end up bickering a lot but Mahiru soon finds out and continues to find out through the story that, when push comes to shove, Kuro is a surprisingly good buddy, someone who will have his back and help him out.
Sakuya's buddy? It's a second year by the name of Tsubaki, a supposed genius. Mahiru doesn't know a lot about Tsubaki, but truth be told, neither does anyone else, even his fellow second years or the upper classman. Tsubaki is prone to odd, eccentric behaviour and speeches but there's hints given throughout the story that despite his apparent eccentricities (most people avoid him because he seems crazy and kind of gives them the creeps), Tsubaki knows a lot more about the school and about the former year's tragedy than he's letting on…at times in the story, you would almost wonder if Tsubaki and his group didn't have something to do with it.
Mahiru in particular finds it really hard to trust Tsubaki, though he does try to befriend him for Sakuya's behalf at first. It really puts Mahiru off though that Tsubaki is almost possessive of Sakuya, separating Sakuya from the other first years whenever possible and Tsubaki seems almost bound and determined to stop the rekindling of Sakuya and Mahiru's friendship. There seems to be a past between Sakuya and Tsubaki though, something that occurred in the year he and Mahiru were apart and it's got to be something major though because Sakuya tells Mahiru flat out that he's very loyal to Tsubaki and would trust him with his life.
Sakuya and Tsubaki are almost always together…if Tsubaki himself cannot assure that Sakuya is with him, than one of the others in the group of students who surround and almost worship Tsubaki is with Sakuya. This includes fellow second years Berukia and Otogiri, third year Shamrock, or fourth year Higan. There are dark rumours around both Tsubaki and the others in his group and people do their best to steer clear of these students, even school staff at times.
Now, you might be wondering about that first year and their buddy that dragged Kuro to meet Mahiru. That first year was a boy by the name of Misono Alicein, the heir to Alicein Corporation (in this universe, I see it being a company very much like Disney - they seem to own almost everything entertainment related). Though prim, proper, and a little awkward, Misono is a kind boy and him and Mahiru grow a friendship really quickly. Misono's buddy is almost his exact counterpoint. Lily is recognizable right away, a teen model who has already garnered a fair amount of fame and celebrity. The two of them are almost the model first year and mentor pair and when Kuro and Mahiru have a hard time really getting along or getting the hang of the school, it's Misono and Lily who help them out and guide them.
Surprising Misono though, he's not the only Alicein in the first year. Mikuni Alicein also shows up as a first year student, despite being older than the other first years. He held off on attending high school, busy exploring the world, and since age is not a requirement the school holds too strongly to, he was accepted in. The problem is that things between Mikuni and Misono are not great, to say the least. Mikuni himself is a genius and a prodigy but rumours abound as to why, at the age of ten, Mikuni was emancipated and disowned from the Alicein family. The family themselves and the staff in the household are forbidden from ever even mentioning him and Misono has no idea as to why. He knows something happened and there are vicious rumours among the uppercrust society, but what he does know is that he feels he hates his brother…feels abandoned and untrusting towards him. Meanwhile, Mikuni sees this attending school together to reconnect with his brother, only to find himself rebuffed at any second.
Is it only his brother that Mikuni is there for though? It's heavily hinted that there's a lot more to Mikuni than his outgoing, silly personality implies. What all he knows and why and how much of a hand he has in the story's events? Not even Mikuni's 'buddy' knows.
And speaking of Mikuni's buddy, it's a boy named Jeje. Jeje comes from a famed family of artisans known for their skill in making masks. Jeje himself is no exception. The masks he makes are highly sought after, exquisitely beautiful. Jeje, a quiet and imposingly tall boy, wears a different mask, each handmade by him, every day, something that does not lessen the fear and unease his fellow students feel around him and he is normally quite avoided on campus.
The only person routinely seen around Mikuni and Jeje both is a third year student by the name of Johannes Mimir Faustus. Johannes is the creator, leader, and one of only two members of the school's Science Club. Johannes is a famed inventor and scientist already at his young age and there's rumours about just how far the boy would go to learn, grow, and advance the world's scientific knowledge - possibly even all the way to downright murder and experimentation on a human body. However, those are only rumours, though the boy's not really behaving like he's playing with a full deck, if you get what I mean. Johannes himself is very unconcerned with the rumours. Everything he does, he does to learn new things and as such, he's perfectly willing to align himself with whomever will grant him the best opportunities to learn something new and interesting.
Another first year that Mahiru soon gets friendly with is a boy by the name of Tetsu. Mahiru stumbles across him after orientation. Tetsu's trying to look for and refind his 'buddy', something that occurs frequently throughout the story as the two seem to constantly be getting lost or separated from each other. Tetsu is the youngest of the first years, the most unsure of how to navigate the school and its rules and quirks. He's known as the world's strongest boy and made a name for himself as a tweenage wrestler, but honestly, he's a gentle giant who just wants to make friends and have a happy school life.
His buddy is a second year student named Hugh, a perfect match for Tetsu as Hugh is also a child prodigy and much younger than the other students, both the first and second years. A literal child, Hugh hardly acts it. He's prideful and boastful and a little annoying at times, but most of all, he's very secretive…he definitely knows things that he won't tell, that he shouldn't know, and the only one to trust him fully throughout the events of the story is Tetsu himself.
Another first year is a girl by the name of Izuna Nobel. She's a genius inventor and mechanic, known for making waves in the field of robotics. Izuna's a really kind girl but I don't see her making really close friends with most of her fellow first years. To be honest, inventing is her biggest passion, her hobby, and what she spends most of her time doing when she doesn't have to be in class. So she doesn't really spend a lot of time with her fellow first years and she's definitely only really close to her 'buddy' but I still see her really helping out the others and still being kind to them throughout the story's events.
Izuna's buddy is a second year named Freya. Freya is a wealthy heiress, an heiress to a Russian crime family if you believe the rumours. Honestly, most everyone in the school is terrified of her, especially given her 'resting bitch face', with only a few chosen people having gained friendships with her. Her and Izuna are almost always together, together with another second year who is really close to Freya, Gilberto Weasel and a third year who was Gil's buddy the prior year, Rayscent Crazyrabbit.
The first year that gets the least attention though and almost seems to fade into the background a lot is a quiet boy named Niccolo Carpediem. The son and heir of the largest family in the Italian mob, Niccolo is somehow still very much a nonpresence, a very quiet boy who seems almost invisible at points given how little people notice him. It's actually a skill in its own right though and don't mistake his shyness for weakness because Niccolo didn't get accepted into Servamp Academy just due to his wealth - he's more than capable in his own right. Completely the opposite of Niccolo is his 'buddy', Ildio, a loud and brash second year and master chef who won some amount of celebrity for his overwhelming victory on a children's cooking competition show. They appear to be complete opposites, the quintessential odd pair, but surprisingly, Ildio and Niccolo get along really well and have the least amount of quarrels or hesitation working together out of all the first years and their buddies.
But the first year that gets the most attention? That's easy because it's not just the first year everyone is studying, but their second year buddy. The first year is a famous piano prodigy, Licht Jekylland Todoroki, who has already played major concerts throughout the world, though they've temporarily retired to attend school. Honestly, Licht only agreed to attend Servamp Academy because his part-time manager and promoter, the better of the two he has, Rosen Crantz, also chose to attend the school and is in his third year. Licht hates the idea of the buddy system right from the get-go though and is always at odds with his 'buddy'.
And who is his buddy? Oh, his buddy is absolutely famous, both by his own merit and by his very close connection to Ophelia, the dead student at the center of last year's tragedy. Lawless is a famous child actor who took a hiatus from the silver screen and the stage to attend Servamp Academy. While there, he became close to Ophelia and the two of them starred in the many stage productions the school put on. Everyone knew them to be almost inseparable. Rumours are swirling that Lawless had something to do with Ophelia's disappearance and death, that he has to know something. Lawless absolutely refuses to believe any of the official stories being stated about Ophelia, either from the school or the police, who believe one of their former teachers might have had a hand in it, that Ophelia and the teacher had been having an affair and that her death was a crime of passion, given creedance by the fact that the teacher in question disappeared around the same time, assumed to be on the run. He knows Ophelia too well to believe anything like that about her and is bound and determined to get to the truth of her death. He has absolutely no time for this buddy shit and he makes it clear to his buddy from the beginning. He's begged and pleaded and even tried to blackmail his fellow second years into helping him with no success…The only people he can seem to get to listen to him are his best friend, a fourth year called Guildenstern, whose the Acting Club's lighting director. Oh, and Syuhei Tsukimitsu, the son of the disgraced teacher, who accepts a menial job as the janitor of the first year dormitories in order to infiltrate the school and try to clear his father's name.
Other important characters include a gang of second years who aren't buddied with any particular student. They can be helpful or completely apathetic, often bouncing in between the two, seemingly guided by their own desires and wants. However, one of those second years is particularly famous, given that he's the only other student to win the lottery that has a parental figure working in the school. That second year is, of course, Tsurugi Kamiya, the adopted son of the school's assistant headmaster (so, for all extents and purposes, with Sensei not being seen, the one running the day to day and making all the rules), Taishi Toma. Tsurugi is joined by his two friends - a genius by the name of Junichirou Kurumamori and the youngest son of an insanely wealthy family, Yumikage Tsukimitsu.
Also among the staff members are its literature teacher, Iori Tsukimitsu, the heir to the Tsukimitsu family and his sister, Miyako Tsukimitsu, the art history teacher.
Formerly the physical education and survival teacher, Yoshimasa Tsuyuki has been missing since the day Ophelia went missing.
Through the story, I do see the first year's getting sucked into this whole investigation, along with their buddies and the other characters, and they're all trying to solve the mystery, as well as uncovering the many secrets of Servamp Academy, including the one surrounding its very mysterious headmaster.
And to anyone wondering, Koyuki and Ryusei, though they didn't get into Servamp Academy like Sakuya and Mahiru, they still routinely write, email, text, and Snap their two childhood friends and are super proud of their friends for getting into Servamp Academy.
#replies#servamp#high school au#headcanons#mahiru shirota#sleepy ash#sakuya watanuki#tsubaki servamp#misono alicein#snow lily#mikuni alicein#jeje servamp#tetsu sendagaya#hugh the dark algernon iii#izuna nobel#freya servamp#niccolo carpediem#ildio servamp#licht jekylland todoroki#lawless servamp#tsurugi kamiya
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My journey into horror games (And Amnesia)
WAS supposed to be for autism awareness month, BUT I got sidetracked with other stuff!
I've decided to make a whole post talking about my journey into the horror genre, easily one of my favourite genres of game as WELL as how I found the Amnesia franchise, my main special interest!!
This is gonna be a long one so strap in
My earliest memories of experiencing horror games was watching my dad play games such as Silent Hill: homecoming, Left 4 Dead 2, The Evil within, Resident evil, so on and so fourth.
Even though I was too young to really watch these games, I felt comfortable watching my dad play them as he'd always tell me that they're just games and not real. : )
When I was around the age where I was allowed onto the internet, of course my morbidly curious brain would seek out more horror media, obviously regretting it because I was so easily scared.
I remember my first experience with anything Amnesia related was when I stumbled upon the My Little Amnesia videos featuring Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie as the three Suitors from Amnesia Justine. NEEDLESS TO SAY THIS SHIT ME UP, the Fluttershy in particular scared me so bad.... and also left me curious.
THAT'S when I stumbled upon the game Amnesia the dark descent, or, well. The custom stories. I remember every day after school I'd sit down and watch different playthroughs I could find. Either from Pewdiepie or CrazyShootin's (Now known as the Click) trolling the Amnesia monsters videos. Some were funny, some terrifying and yet I couldn't look away.
I would forget about Amnesia for a while, not completely as it would always pop into my mind now and then, but it never lingered.
Years later I would play Resident evil 7, my first step into Resident evil as well as Baby's first horror game (I believe I was only 14-15 when I played it), it remains as one of my favourite horror games (and favourite Resident evil game) to this day.
My curiosity in horror games grew stronger as I started playing the games I remember watching my dad play like Resident evil, Silent Hill and The Evil within!
But it wasn't till 2020 I finally bought the games that started my fascination with horror games in the first place.
The Amnesia games.
I LOVE the Amnesia franchise, it's literally one of if not my main special interest! But when I first played it I was not expecting it to impact my life as much as it has.
I actually didn't even play Dark Decent as my first game because I was too scared, so instead I played A machine for Pigs (which to most, probably isn't the best way to get into Amnesia fgh)
I was instantly hooked despite it being one of the lesser Amnesia titles, but for me it was a good way to ease into what would await me in The Dark Descent.
Now PERSONALLY, I'm actually a fan of A machine for Pigs! I personally love the story, but what it makes up for in story, it heavily lacks in gameplay.
Now. The Dark Descent...
Oh my god. When I played this game, I truly was not ready for the ride it would put me in. Up until that point, I had only experience the game through playthroughs of custom maps and stories, never actually knowing the full story of the game.
And needless to say... yes, I was fucking terrified the first time I played the game. But I loved every second of it!! I loved it so much that I played it again. And again. And again. And again. And- you get the picture.
The collection also came with Amnesia Justine! Which.. still scares me to play to this day. For a short little DLC it still captures the same eerie vibe and intensity of The Dark Descent.
I love the collection so much that I was determined to complete it... which I did. I got every single achievement in the collection including collecting all 151 tinderboxes (Which. I had to do twice.), collecting every note in all three games AND playing Dark Descent on hard mode. I've played The Dark Descent more than I've played any other game so much to the point where I know it better than the back of mind hand and now I play it to find new ways of glitching it and to see how far I can push the AI. It's genuinely one of my favourite games (and franchises) ever made.
It was then in 2020 when Amnesia Rebirth was announced! And I was ecstatic to say the least as it would be the first Amnesia title since 2013. When I finally played the game it was.... bittersweet to say the least. Obviously I had fun playing it the first time! But I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed. And that feeling persisted the more I played it. My opinions on Rebirth have slightly changed recently however. I still believe it is a rather disappointing Amnesia game, BUT I would be lying if I said I didn't think it was also fun and quite scary in places! THIS GAME GAVE ME STOCKHOLM SYNDROME IDK MAN.
Now despite the bad taste Rebirth left in my mouth for quite some time, I was... oddly content with it probably being the last Amnesia game for a good while. It didn't end with the bang I was hoping for, I wasn't upset about it.... WELL- Okay I was at first- but after a while I kinda just didn't care!
....
THEN AMNESIA THE BUNKER HAPPENED.
Where do I even start with this game?? I remember finding out about the game from my friend Delta and I literally freaked out (I was in a VC at the time so my friends heard my yells lol) as I was not expecting a new title, once again I was content with Rebirth being the last game for a good while if not the last title ever.
When it finally released I was NOT expecting the game to play the way it does. And honestly? it's probably the best Amnesia game in term of gameplay in my humble onion, whereas Dark Descent still has the better story! The fact the monster is an omnipresent threat is such an improvement from the AI of the other games. Honestly for a rather short game it leaves such an impact, the Halloween update is also such a fun touch!!
In general the horror game genre and Amnesia games mean the absolute world to me. I don't usually care about game studios but FrictionalGames have become one of my favourites and I'm genuinely excited to see where they go next with their games, because at least to me, Frictional always seem so genuine with their games.. even ones like Rebirth, though disappointing I can tell it still had a lot of care and thought put into it.
Whether their next title is a horror game or not. Whether they decide to continue the Amnesia games or not. I don't care, I'm excited to see what they bring next to the table either way!
#Berry's Blog of Horrors#Spooky talk#amnesia the dark descent#amnesia a machine for pigs#Amnesia justine#Amnesia rebirth#amnesia the bunker#SORRY FOR THE LONG ASS RAMBLE IM JUST REALLY AUTISTIC ABOUT THESE GAMES...#special interest#horror
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Sunday Sermon 2: On Laws
Happy Sunday to all again. I am once again writing to you as Pope Orion Orangutan Omnibenevolence Kosmos Yes or POOKY.
So, the last sermon I delivered might have seemed to offer instruction, advice, or command in regards to chilling and maybe being nice. That was not my intent. It was at most, a suggestion. I am not an Enlightened One. I'm not more in touch with the Divine than anyone else.
While I'm writing these, I do invoke my Discordian Pope title. That does not make me an authority. I took the expensive route to Discordian Papacy: I bought a ten dollar used copy of the Steve Jackson Games printing of the Principia Discordia and then made a fifteen cent photocopy at FedEx Kinkos of the page with the Be Your Own Pope card. That does not elevate me above anyone else. All who decide to join the Golden Apple Corps of Eris are equally in the Discordian Papacy.
I'll own up to a thing: back when I was in late high school or my year of college, I came to identify with the label of anarchism or libertarianism coming to it from left-leaning reasons. For instance, at that time, gay marriage was a controversial issue and not yet legal across the United States of America, and I had a simple stupid solution: marriage is no longer a legal status for anyone straight or gay, the government just doesn't do marriage anymore. Marriage equality achieved.
Anyway, as a budding anarchist, attempting to have a consistent moral philosophy of life, I started thinking about Christianity, particularly the church my parents had been raising me in. If top down authority and distinctions of station are evils when talking about the world of human politics, are they any less so when applied to religion? Long story short, maybe God exists, but he's a tyrant and All Clergy Are Bastards.
Today's reading is from The Gospel of Mary Magdalene I'm drawing my wording from The Essential Gnostic Gospels translated by Alan Jacobs published by Watkins 2009:
Then Jesus greeted them saying, “Peace be with you all.
Take my peace into your Selves; be watchful so nobody leads
you astray claiming “Look there, look here for the son of man.”
I tell you that the son of man is within you all!
Seek him inside; those who search diligently
and earnestly shall surely find him.
Then leave and preach the truth of the Kingdom
to those with ears to hear;
don't invent rules beyond those I've given.
Don't make laws like law-makers do
or else you'll be held back.”
After he had said this he left.
[I'm skipping a bit to get to the next part I want to quote]
Mary answered, “What's concealed from you I'll tell;
I saw him in a vision and I told him.
He said, “Blessed are you that your strength
wasn't shaken by my appearance,
for where the heart is lies buried treasure.”
[another skip still Mary talking]
When my soul had conquered ignorance it rose up
and saw the fourth power, which assumes seven forms.
The first is darkness, the second desire, then ignorance,
fear of death, power of the flesh, foolish reason,
and self-righteous pedantry.
These are the powers of anger and doubt; they ask,
“From where did you come, killer of men;
where are you heading, slayer of space?”
My soul replied, “What bound me is dead,
what enveloped me has been vanquished;
my desires are over and ignorance is no more.
In this life I was freed from the world
and the chains of forgetfulness.
From now on I will rest in the eternal now;
for this age, this aeon, and in stillness.”
So today's lesson from POOKY is: Yeshua and Miriam also say no laws, free yourself from ignorance and pedantry.
Good Day of the Sun unto you all.
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Happy Storyteller Saturday!
When you finish a first draft, how does it look? Is it readable or does it have more holes than a swiss cheese? What are your next steps, and how much changes?
Hey Elli! Happy STS!
First of all - I believe every idea is at least somewhat salvageable. I hope to one day get to the point where I somehow managed to adapt the short stories I "wrote" when I was in kindergarten.
Okay my first drafts are...weird. They differ greatly from most people. Let's talk about a few examples so I can explain.
The Secret Portal
Started as a school project in fourth grade (age 10). It is readable but it's so silly. Mainly because I was ten. I've somehow managed to string it together into what it is now but the first act is the only recognizable thing.
The second version of TSP I wrote over a year later. My first step was to make it longer and have chapters. That was about it.
The third version was about a year after that. I decided I didn't like my story ideas to be stretched out across a whole book, so I combined the first two books into one. I alternated the POV and worked more on the details. My descriptions and characterization was better, though I was constrained by the limitations of following the older drafts.
The fourth version was a year and a half after that. We're nearing the end of eighth grade - I'm 14. I'd done a lot of other writing but I decided to go back to TSP. This time, I had full scenes and character introductions and even a halfway decent (emphasis) prologue. Pacing was getting better, and the story beats made more sense. I alternated POV, but realized the need for it being very deliberate whose perspective I was in.
One hole I figured out was how to differentiate my heroes and villains. Jedi and Carmen originated as villain roles but when I thought about it making them good, or honestly extremely morally gray, made a lot more sense. I soon developed a plot, a world, character arcs...
While I refer to all of it as Draft Four, I kept up with this version for so long there are technically multiple drafts of TSP in this section. I didn't start the document over until 2021.
How did I go on from here? Well, I focused on refining story beats. Characters and their voices. General pacing and descriptions. World building.
So definitely not a traditional process lol.
More detailed behind the scenes is linked in my intro post
School of the Legends
I basically hit the reset button every time. I had the idea of "fairy tale retelling" for years.
For SOTL, I did write a dual first person POV short story with Úrsula and Beau and discover third person worked better. But as SOTL it technically only has five chapters drafted. I'd say that just tossing out everything worked here.
Other
Most of the others I wrote as a kid and as I grew older I modified it to my current maturity level, taking the same plot points and fleshing them out. When I was 13+ I started outlining and planning more details and characters. More plot twists and arcs.
Sooo I don't really have the typical first draft experience. Essentially what I do is this:
Nothing is unsalvageable.
Figure out what is salvageable.
Write down ideas I have during reading old drafts.
Identify the holes.
Figure out how to fill the holes/brainstorm
Figure out everything you still don't know
???
Profit
Hope this was a satisfactory answer lol
TSP intro
TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @fairy-tales-of-yesterday
#the secret portal#tsp#teaspoon#storyteller saturday#school of the legends#writing blog#writers on tumblr#writing community#writers of tumblr#writing on tumblr#writeblr#writeblr community#behind the scenes
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ɪɴᴇᴠɪᴛᴀʙʟʏ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ | ᴘᴊᴍ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ
❝ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ɪᴍᴘʀᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ❞
↣ summary :: Kiara Smith had dreamed of true love for as long as she could remember. from being obsessed with the Disney princesses who found affection in the strangest situations to dressing up as a bride from kindergarten to fourth grade. it was the only thing she ever truly desired, so much so that a pleasant smile and kind eyes could have her smitten in seconds. right when she thought she found the one, a chance encounter with Park Jimin—the city’s famously perfect fuck boy with a smile so warm and a heart of ice—has her feeling quite the opposite. he knocks her off her axis and derails her life as she knows it, yet the universe seems to have another plan for the two.
↣ rating :: 18+
↣ genre :: fluff, angst, smut, e2l, slow burn
↣ pairing :: business owner!jimin x fem!artist!oc ft. taehyung
↣ word count :: 4.1k
↣ chapter warnings :: mature language, public intoxication
↣ notes :: tame chapter with just a glimpse into their friendships. next chapter is when the fun really begins. also, this story takes place in 2022, since that's when I started to write it originally and it just makes the most sense to me
↣ next :: previous :: series m.list ↢
ᴄʀᴏꜱꜱ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ
if you have any questions, comments, or concerns PLEASE don't hesitate to message me or send me an ask! my inbox is always open. 💖
"it seems that they're happier than me. seems like they're where I wanna be. I've got a heart of a hopeless romantic."
-hopeless romantic, sam fischer-
"Taehyung!" Jimin called out as he saw the dark-haired man stepping out of his car. He began to walk towards him as the man offered him a wave before meeting him halfway. The two hugged upon arrival, patting each other on the back as they greeted each other. Taehyung kept his word and has been texting the blonde over the past few weeks. After working through schedule differences, Jimin invited the man to hang out with some friends to get him out there again. Supposedly, Taehyung had become a recluse from those active college days when people who didn't attend the school knew his name.
"It's fucking freezing," Taehyung complained as he walked alongside Jimin. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Wasn't it just 70 degrees the other day?"
Jimin chuckled, feeling the breeze nipping at the exposed skin on his neck. "You've been here for how long, and you're still not used to New York weather?" They expertly weaved through people as the streets grew more crowded. It was a Friday night, not that it made a difference for New York City. As usual, the city was alive. The strip lined with bars, clubs, and your occasional food stop sang a melody Jimin grew to love.
"I can't deal with this place's flip-flop weather." He huffed, slowing with the other as they joined a short queue. "I miss California. At least there, winter was always a nice, consistent 70. Sometimes 60, but never below a damn 50."
The blonde laughed, shaking his head as he covered his mouth. He was glad that he stumbled upon Taehyung at that art show. He missed him and his antics. He thought about his younger often but never had the time to reach out. "You have a point. Cali was like summer year-round. Have you visited recently?"
Taehyung nodded, pulling out his phone from his pocket. "Yeah, I just checked on my parents last month."
Jimin smiled fondly, remembering Mr. and Mrs. Kim. "That's nice; what did your girlfriend think?"
"She didn't go."
Jimin's eyes went wide for a second before his brows furrowed. He kept his thoughts to himself, knowing it wasn't his place to intrude. He found it odd, though, and as hard as he tried, he couldn't help himself. "How long have you been together?"
Taehyung glanced up from his phone, looking to the sky as if the dulled stars could give him the answer. "Um, two? Three years?"
Jimin's brows lowered. "You're not sure?"
"Eh, you stop counting after two anyway." He said with a wave of his hand.
Jimin looked ahead, his jaw clenching ever so slightly. It's not your place, he thought to himself. A girl as beautiful as her, and he couldn't even remember how long they'd been together? He wondered if the man remembered their anniversary or made some half-ass attempt after forgetting. But it wasn't his place. He was sure whatever Taehyung was doing kept his partner happy, even if it seemed the bare minimum. He decided not to pry any further to keep the energy high for tonight. He filled the silence between them with small talk, little nothings that the two didn't care much for.
After entering the establishment, Jimin began to lead Taehyung through the crowd. Intense music and passing conversations filled their eardrums. Some girls had one too many drinks, swaying wildly in their seats, and men whose eyes wandered in the room hoping to find a "friend" to take home. The blonde led him to a table further into the establishment.
"Hey!" A group of men shouted once they reached the table. A few glasses were on the table, letting the newcomers know they started drinking without them.
"Hey guys," Jimin grinned as he took off his coat. "This is my friend Taehyung." He introduced the dark-haired man as they sat in their seats. The blonde then glanced at the faces surrounding them before the corners of his lips pulled down into a frown. "Yoongi couldn't make it?"
A man with midnight locks and round-framed glasses sitting on his nose shook his head, his large hands messing with a shot glass until it fell. He startled himself, dark eyes glancing at the other men at the table to see if they noticed. "Boyfriend problems." The table erupted in a collective sigh.
Jimin raised his hand to grab the attention of a waiter. "I swear, he needs to find someone less toxic."
Another dark-haired man nodded, plush lips formed into a pout as he fidgeted with a napkin between his fingers. "He claims he's his muse, or whatever the fuck that means."
Taehyung then locked eyes with the man sitting next to him. The man furrowed his brunette eyebrows, and his short platinum hair ruffled slightly. The ebony-haired man furrowed his eyebrows until the other gave him a heart-shaped smile. "I knew I recognized you from somewhere!" He exclaimed, reaching out to pat him on the back. The rest of the table glanced at the two, eyebrows raised. "He's my neighbor!" He beamed.
It took a minute to hit Taehyung, but when it did, a smile grew on his lips as well. "Hoseok! Shit, it's been a minute."
"Well, since Jimin has no home training," the other dark-haired man said, prompting a hey from the blonde. "I'm Seokjin."
"And I'm Namjoon." The man with the glasses said.
"I was getting there," Jimin grumbled, finally getting the attention of a waitress. He placed an order for the table.
"Sure you were," Seokjin joked with a smirk. "So what do you do for a living, Taehyung?"
"I'm an architect," he said as he leaned onto the table. "What about you guys?"
”I'm an accountant," Seokjin said.
"I'm an art gallery owner," Namjoon said, earning a nod from Taehyung.
"I work for Jimin," Hoseok snickered while Jimin rolled his eyes. The waitress returned, placing shots and beer in front of the men.
"We work together," Jimin corrected, taking a swig of his beer. He playfully glared at the platinum blonde. "Besides, you were holding it down for the past year."
"Psh, I was only reading off your text messages to the people." He waved off Jimin, causing the man to shake his head.
While the others chuckled, Taehyung's brows furrowed as he looked at Jimin. "What exactly do you do?"
"I own a couple—"
"Four," Hoseok cut him off with a teasing smile.
"Dance studios around Manhattan and Long Island." Despite the interruption, Jimin continued with that playful glare in his eyes. "Hoseok and a couple of people teach the Long Island locations, and I take care of the Manhattan ones."
"Oh wow," Taehyung nodded. He vaguely remembered Jimin mentioning that was his dream. It was unbelievable how he accomplished it already.
"Cheers to that," Seokjin said, raising his shot glass. The other three men followed while Taehyung hesitated. He glanced at Jimin, eyes drowning with uncertainty. The blonde couldn't help but smile softly, offering him a comforting nod. Taehyung grabbed his glass, clinking it with the rest of the group before taking it to the head.
Jimin watched the rest of his groups faint expressions as they swallowed the warm liquid. Taehyung's face visibly twisted — his nose wrinkled as the corners of his mouth pushed downward. His tongue made a brief appearance as he tried to physically shake the taste out of his mouth. He couldn't remember the last time he had a drink. Maybe college? The other men chuckled at his reaction, finding him amusing. Jimin gently traced the rim of his glass with his finger.
"The first one is always bad," Hoseok commented with a noticeable frown on his lips. "It'll start tasting like nothing soon enough." Taehyung nodded as he called the waitress over, ordering himself some water.
"So, how are the wedding preparations?" Seokjin asked, looking at Hoseok.
The sound of Jimin choking on his water didn't take anyone by surprise except for Taehyung. "What?! You're engaged?!" The blonde stared at the other, eyes wide and jaw dropped. Hoseok just nodded, a broad smile forming as he looked down at the table bashfully. "To Momo?" He questioned lightly.
Hoseok nodded again. "Of course, she's the love of my life." He looked at Jimin, causing the table to erupt in an aw. Taehyung glanced around for a moment before shifting in his seat.
"Congratulations!" Jimin beamed, leaning back into his seat. "Damn, you leave for a year and miss everything."
"I got the video of the proposal if you want to see it," Namjoon offered as he pulled out his phone. Jimin leaned over to Namjoon so enthusiastically that he practically knocked over his drink.
"I really thought we weren't going to make it for a second," Hoseok admitted, hearing the memories playing from Namjoon's phone. "Jin honestly saved us."
Taehyung tilted his head as he picked at the fries the group had ordered. "What do you mean?"
Seokjin leaned back in his seat, taking a sip of his beer. "I'm like the relationship guru of the group." He lifted his left hand, a silver band glimmering on his ring finger. "Happily married, 12 years strong." The smile that formed on his lips was genuine, almost prideful.
Now, Taehyung choked on his drink, catching the group's attention. Their conversation slowed as they watched him closely, ready to help. He swallowed hard; the gulp of air water going down his esophagus put an ache in his chest. "12 years?" He repeated, eyes wide as Seokjin nodded. "And you're how old?"
"Thirty."
"Holy shit." He stared down at the table, hand running through his dark hair as he did the math. "So right out of high school…." He chewed on the inside of his cheek as disbelief clouded his mind.
”How's the wife anyway?" Jimin asked with a smile. He was so happy that his friends had found love; healthy love at that. He wanted nothing but the best for them.
"Amazing and pregnant," he grinned.
Jimin and Namjoon shared a gasp. "Congrats!" The blonde said, causing everyone but Taehyung to cheer quietly.
Seokjin raised his hands, silently telling the men to stop. "Thank you. She's almost out of the first trimester."
"Are you having a baby shower or a gender reveal?" Hoseok asked.
Seokjin shrugged, smiling to himself as he thought. "I don't know; I wouldn't mind doing both, though."
"I'm sorry," Taehyung said. Everyone looked at him while his eyes locked with Seokjin. "I know I just met you, but… within 12 years of being committed, you've never stepped out on her once?"
"No." He answered quickly, with no thought to it whatsoever. His brows lowered while looking at the dark-haired man, almost offended by his genuine question. "I never even had the thought to."
"How?"
Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jimin all exchanged the same look with each other before looking to Seokjin for his answer.
"How?" Seokjin repeated as he sat up. "Because I love her. And I will love her until the earth's end. We always choose each other at the end of the day. We choose to love, choose to be faithful." His stare hardened. "Are you in a relationship?"
Taehyung suddenly felt small under Seokjin's gaze. "Yeah…," he said quietly.
"And you're actively choosing her?" He asked with a raised brow. Taehyung looked at him for a moment as if he suddenly froze. His gaze lowered toward the table as he nodded. "Then you have nothing to worry about."
"Shit, and I thought I was just here to get drunk," Namjoon mumbled, causing everyone to laugh off the tension. Jimin looked at his old friend, watching as he fiddled with his fingers. The blonde wondered why he would ask that. Why would that thought cross his mind and leave his lips without hesitation?
"So!" Hoseok looked at Jimin. His energy practically screamed out at him to be saved, and he knew how to cheer him up. "Do you wanna hear from the Jung wedding chronicles?" Jimin's eyes finally met as he nodded, the corners of his lips tugging into a small smile. "We finally found a place after weeks of traveling between three. And now, it's the best part. Colors."
Seokjin laughed wholeheartedly while the other two men looked confused. "Lemme guess, your living room looks like the inside of a Home Depot paint section."
Hoseok groaned loudly, shutting his eyes as he fell back into his seat. "Yes, oh my god. I swear girls have some kind of super eyesight because she showed me three blue swatches and said they were different colors!" The group laughed at his frustration, but Taehyung only let out an uncomfortable chuckle. "I love the woman to death, but I swear I'm gonna lose my mind doing this. She cares so much about every little detail, and I'm just happy to be marrying the love of my life."
"Ew," Jimin chimed in as he sipped his beer. He grinned, scrunching his nose up slightly. "You're so in love; it's gross."
"To gross for you to be a groomsman?" Hoseok asked, quirking a brow while smirking.
Jimin's eyes lit up, though he tried feigning a grimace. "Ugh, of course, I would love to be one. Are you kidding?"
Taehyung suddenly stood up, causing everyone to look at him. "I gotta go."
Jimin furrowed his brows. They've only been here briefly; if he remembered correctly, Taehyung said he could hang out until late. "Where are you going?"
"I just, um…." He stuttered, trying to find a reason besides not wanting to sit at a table full of married people. Happily, married people. He pulled out his phone, seeing a text notification on his Lock Screen. "Kiara needs me to pick her up." He gave Jimin a half smile while Hoseok furrowed his brows and glanced at his phone. Taehyung looked at the rest of the table. "It was nice meeting you all. I hope we can hang out again soon." He nods at them before walking away.
Once Taehyung left, the tension in the air finally dissipated. Everyone's shoulders relaxed as they exchanged the same look of awkwardness. That same heaviness from earlier reappeared in Jimin's chest, prompting him to chug at least half of his beer in hopes of drowning it.
Namjoon cleared his throat. He was quiet most of the night for a reason. "He's a little…, odd." He said slowly, choosing his words lightly.
"Yeah," the rest of them said in unison. Jimin and Hoseok shared a look, speaking silently. Hoseok shook his head as he looked at his phone again.
"Well," Seokjin clapped his hands together before calling for the waitress, "another round!”
A few blocks down, four girls seemed to steal the breath of everyone they passed. They walked down the sidewalk as if it were a runway, and they were models. Out of the whole population of Manhattan, only a few had it. People moved out of the way for them. Men gawked as they passed, earning hits in the arms of their significant others. Girls couldn't help but stare with envious eyes while whispering off with their friends. It took a lot to steal the attention of other New Yorkers, but the group was used to it. They didn't mind it as they were too wrapped up in their own conversations.
When they reached their destination, the girls ducked into a building. It was their go-to karaoke spot, an experience that grew into a weekly tradition in the colder seasons. The four had the intention to sing until their vocal cords were raw. The interior was dim; the bulbs in the ceiling gave off a red light. They stood in a corner, out of the way of traffic, while one of them ran up to the counter.
"I swear to god, he's still in love with you," Kiara told Valerie, causing the woman to huff. She flipped her wavy midnight hair over her shoulder, her onyx eyes rolling as her blush pink lips formed into a smile. Her warm, beige skin turned pink as she thought of the man still wanting her.
"Why did you even break up with him?" Another girl named Samira asked. She popped her gum before blowing a bubble that took away the shine on her two-tone chocolate and raspberry lips. Her button nose wrinkled, folding her arms over her chest as she leaned to the side. She had golden brown skin and long hair the shade of obsidian that fell down her back.
"Because he was too boring," Valerie whined, her full lips sticking out into a childish pout while the girls groaned audibly and rolled their eyes. "He was too stable! He had a job, a car, his own apartment…."
"Oh my god, he had a job?!" Kiara gasped dramatically, sarcasm laced in her silk voice. "And a car!? And a place to live?!" She raised her hand, placing it on her forehead as she leaned on Samira, pretending to faint.
Samira laughed as she held her up, ignoring Valerie's glares at the two. "God forbid you meet a stable man in New York City! The absolute horror!" She joked through giggles.
While Valerie swatted her hands at the girls, the one who ran off returned to the group. Her skin was fair, the red lights tinging her to a soft pink. Her almond eyes, bright despite their dark color, watched as the girls interacted. Her hair, shoulder-length black, was pulled into two low ponytails. "The room is ready!" Her sweet voice cut through the commotion of the girls, offering each of them a smile to match.
Valerie stopped her attack, throwing her arms around the girl to embrace her. "Momo! They're making fun of me!" She whined like a child while Kiara and Samira stuck their tongues at her.
"Aw," Momo cooed as she rubbed Valerie's back. She playfully glared at the girls. "Shame on you two. You know she's not all the way there!"
Valerie gasped while pulling away from her. "Hey!" They all shared a laugh while Momo led them down the hall to one of the reserved rooms.
The women quickly got comfortable in the room, stripping themselves of their winter coats and placing them onto the corner of the couch. They ordered some food and drinks and sang to their heart's content. Everyone felt warm, laughing as they purposely sang songs out of tune. The drinks were strong, and none of the greasy appetizers they ordered had soaked up the alcohol. Needless to say, within the hour, they were already tipsy. They took a break, plopping and spreading themselves on the couch.
"You know, I met the most interesting person a couple of weeks ago," Kiara said as she put her phone down on her lap. She stared up at the ceiling as flashes of plump lips, a sculpted jawline, and a dazzling smile appeared before her eyes.
"Who?" Valerie asked.
"Someone to replace Taehyung?" Samira smirked as she scrolled through her phone.
Kiara glared at the girl. "No!" She leaned her head back again. "Just someone…."
"This someone had to be important for you to keep remembering them," Momo commented, looking at Kiara.
She couldn't stop the small smile that formed on her lips, giggling softly at a joke no one but she knew. "He just had the shittiest pickup line I ever heard."
"What was it?!" Samira asked, suddenly interested. "I love a corny pickup line."
The smile on Kiara's lips grew, "He compared me to one of the pieces in this art gallery I went to, saying something about us having a beauty no one contained." Despite being corny, she couldn't help but find it charming.
The girls burst into laughter, clapping their hands as they fell into the couch cushions.
"Oh my god, was he like fifty?!" Valerie giggled.
Kiara shook her head, covering her mouth as she laughed. As everyone calmed down, she took a deep breath. "But he was such an ass when I rejected him."
"How so?" Momo asked.
Kiara's face scrunched up, her arms folding over her chest. "First, he called me a liar, and then he said it was a red flag for Taehyung to be late."
"I mean, it is," Samira mumbled, prompting a smack in the arm from Kiara.
"The point is he couldn't take rejection! And called me a liar!" Kiara said in defense.
"Maybe he was just having a bad day," Valerie added. Kiara shrugged. Her rejection might have been the icing on the cake for him. Not everyone was an asshole just to be one.
”In other news!" Samira practically shouted to fill the silence that overcame the girls. The other three jumped slightly, but the girl paid no mind as she flung herself over Kiara's lap to meet Momo. "Let's talk, my love. So about these colors…."
Kiara and Valerie let out a loud groan, followed by a roll of their eyes. "No wedding stuff on girls' night!" Valerie whined.
"Yeah, you promised!" Kiara added while poking at the girl's side, making her flinch.
Momo laughed at the two, eyes filled to the brim with fondness. "You did promise. And I'm not paying extra for off-hours talks."
Samira pouted, then sighed when her half attempt of begging failed, being met with no change. "Fine," she whined as she got up. "This is probably my favorite wedding I planned so far, and I may just be a little obsessed."
”A lot obsessed," Kiara said with a smirk.
Samira stared at Kiara for a moment. "You right," she shrugged before plopping down on the couch.
"Alright! Round two!" Momo exclaimed as she grabbed the small tablet that controlled the TV.
Another hour had passed before the group stumbled out of the establishment with a little more alcohol in their system than before. The streets had become crowded with people—some drunk while others seemed to rush to their destination. Samira and Valerie said their goodbyes, disappearing into the sea of people as they left the two Long Island fish in the sea of city dwellers. Kiara stared down at her phone as she leaned against the brick wall. Despite being warm from the alcohol coursing in her veins, the winter wind still nipped at the bare skin between her dress and thigh-high boots. She stared down at her phone before clicking on a specific contact name. She placed it to her ear for the fourth time, hearing it ring before going to voicemail.
"Need a ride?" Momo asked while putting her phone to her ear.
She bit her lip for a second before sighing heavily. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I don't know why Taehyung's not answering. He said he wasn't gonna be out late."
Momo shrugged her shoulders. "When does he ever answer, though?" She commented before speaking to the person on the other end. Kiara huffed, looking away from the girl. She hated it when Momo was right. She hated when any of her friends were right. Sure, Taehyung had some very annoying qualities, but everyone did. No one was perfect. They didn't know the side of Taehyung she fell in love with, and they didn't have to. Though, being left out in the cold was a downside. "Hobi should be here in a few minutes," Momo said, dropping her phone back into her purse.
Kiara nodded, feeling an odd weight in her stomach. Momo and Hoseok were the picture-perfect couple. Their relationship was something comparable to the big screen. Anyone from miles away could take one glance and tell they had immense love for each other. Kiara wondered if people could tell that with her relationship. She hoped so, at least. Love surrounded her from all angles—her parents' relationship, her brother's, her friends'…—that Kiara couldn't help but yearn for the emotion. If she had it on paper, why was she still getting these feelings while watching couples interact?
As she slid into the backseat of the car, she greeted Hoseok. He handed both girls a bottle of water before proceeding to drive off. She tried not to look at the couple, considering that heavy feeling didn't subside yet. She didn't want to see how he lovingly gazed at her friend. Despite how happy she was for them, she couldn't help but compare her relationship to theirs. The fact that they were together only two years before Hoseok popped the question, compared to her four years and counting, made her queasy. She stared out her window to distract herself. The alcohol kept her quiet as she watched the buildings passing by. Bright lights shone like the stars in the sky, reflecting off of the water as they crossed over the bridge. She picked up bits and pieces of the couple's conversation as her thoughts drowned them out.
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