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dawn-moths · 2 years ago

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“The Final Nail in the Coffin” (PART 2)

CHAPTER 7

Undertaker x Female Reader / Ron x Female Reader

word count: 13,000+

part 1 * part 2 * part 3 * part 4 * part 5 * part 6 * part 7

(Ron returns from hiding out in the Irish countryside and prepares to face the Black Reaper for the final time. You take matters into your own hands for once. With only a bullet to decide who loves you more, Ron and Undertaker settle things once and for all. In the end, a new deal is made. The only question you can ask yourself now is, was what you had to trade worth the final outcome?)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors DNI! a little bit of smut (overall this chapter is also pretty plot heavy), descriptions of violence, abusive/controlling behavior, daddy kink, jealousy, cheating, welcome to the big finale everyone.

*ao3 mirror*

***

Ireland’s rolling green hills had turned white with snow, dark cracks forming in the fields where some of it had melted to reveal the dark earth beneath.

Even in the winter, Ron’s home country was beautiful, the land looking like one endless expanse of black and white marble, the only indicator that it was finite being where the clear sky met the edge of the horizon.

He’d found his way back home on a local fishing boat, the kind Scotsman who’d agreed to take him the short distance to the Emerald Isle turning down Ron’s attempt to pay him for his trouble by having the young man help with some menial tasks while aboard instead.

A few hours later, when those mammoth cliffs cast shadows over the crashing waves and both men had to crane their necks to view the sky, Ron was stepping foot back in a place that he never thought he’d ever return to. As he waved goodbye to the generous fisherman and began on his way through the slush covered land in his scuffed up oxfords, a strange thought occurred to him…

Who was I before leaving this place?

What made me so desperate to go?

Ron had spent a long time wandering, only remembering he had to actually survive out here for a while once his stomach began to growl.

He fished out what little funds remained from the inside of his blazer pocket, (his suit looking less than professional at this point, but what did he care?) counted the coins and the crumpled bills, and then headed into the nearest pub.

For the duration of his first pint, Ron simply observed. He listened in on the grumbling conversations of the older, much more rugged patrons, choosing a target to rob by the time his second round was halfway down. But then, as he tipped the glass back and swallowed the final drops of his watered down beer, the outlook of Ron’s risky fortunes seemed to shift.

“… Need to hire some help ever since the last farmhand had to head back to Edinburgh. S’shame. H’was a good lad… Hard worker too,” One of the men muttered to the friend beside him, both of their steins only a few more gulps away from matching Ron’s.

“This time ‘o year, chances are few to none,” his companion remarked with a hint of a scoff. “Kids these days’re too delicate. They don’ want to work hard. I mean, why would they when they can get some comfy desk job for the same pay? Hell. Double what you can afford, I bet.”

Ron perked up, glancing over his shoulder to try and get a better look at the faces the conversation belonged to. They were older men, perhaps in their mid sixties, and despite the thinning hair and deep wrinkles etched into their rough, liver spotted skin, they were in decent shape, all things considered.

“I can barely afford my own wages,” groaned the man, who Ron was beginning to assume was the owner of the farm, the more he surveyed his attire— dirt smudged overalls and worn work boots, a tattered denim jacket fraying at the seams sagging over his slightly hunched back. “Just barely keepin’ the boat afloat after last year’s medical expenses. If I get pneumonia again I’ll probably be done for. My wife’d never forgive me for makin’ her a widow…”

The farmer’s friend clapped him on the shoulder, casting a look of sympathetic encouragement upon him. He was just about to open his mouth to speak, when a younger, much more chipper voice chimed in.

“Sorry to interrupt…” Ron began, putting on his most charming smile as he slid into the empty wooden stool across from the two older gentlemen. “But I couldn’t help but overhear you’re looking for a farmhand?”

The two men exchanged skeptical glances before looking back to Ron. Then the farmer admitted, “I am. But I won’t be able to pay very much.”

“You got lodgings at this farm of yours?” Ron asked next, one eyebrow quirking up as he shifted into a slightly more comfortable and relaxed position.

“Out in the barn,” the farmer half shrugged. “Though, this time ‘o year I’m afraid it’s not too cozy.”

“Is it livable?” Ron inquired, leaning in a little closer to them. “I mean, would I technically freeze to death if I slept out there or…?”

The farmer explained there were a couple of quilts and a small fire pit that could be lit, so yes, it was technically livable, even if it was by a low standard. Ron asked if there would be meals and the farmer gave him a similar answer. Yes, but don’t expect anything fancy.

“Well then,” Ron concluded, flashing one of those boyish, bright smiles he was so good at making look authentic. Though, the kind he liked to host around you actually were real. This time, it was merely a mask, a way to put his targets at ease to ensure he ended up with what he wanted. Just a simple skill of a once-retired-but-now-due-to-unfortunate-circumstances-presently-active con. “If that’s the case, consider me your new farmhand!”

The three of them sat huddled at that bar table for a little while longer, the buzzing warmth of the alcohol coursing through their systems beginning to dull a bit and then seeming to fizzle out entirely the moment they set foot back into the cold winter air, before Ron and the farmer— who’d introduced himself as Shamus— parted ways from the third member of the trio and headed towards the farm.

Ron was available to start work immediately, conveniently for the both of them.

So, as the first night back in his home country blanketed itself over the land, having everything in order to begin “work” early the next morning, Ron found himself wrapped up in the hand stitched quilts on the upper level of Shamus’s barn, the embers of the dying fire glowing from the iron coal stove a few feet away.

He lay there, curled into a ball, and wondered how long he’d have to play this part until he’d formed a good enough plan to return and face what he’d run from.

There was a brief moment where Ron figured he could just stay here, start a new life, and perhaps live long enough to die an old man like Shamus seemed so convinced was going to happen to him someday in the not so distant future.

He could lay down his gun, wipe the blood from the lenses of his glasses, and burn that stuffy suit he’d had to wear while working for Undertaker over the coals currently keeping him warm.

He could start a new life, if only he could let go of you.

And it was you— your sweet smile and angelic laughter and naive innocence to the true horrors that writhed below a shallow grave, clawing to get free and poison your fairy tale world— that pulled him back to reality.

Ron spent a majority of the night tossing and turning, cursing himself for casting his phone into the sea. Although it had been an extremely necessary precaution, he’d give almost anything right now to be able to hear your sweet little voice, even if it were through the trembling, anxious voicemails he’d never had the heart to delete.

He wanted to be able to reread your texts, at least, his heart fluttering every time you punctuated one of your messages with cute heart emojis or sparkles or stars.

He wanted to feel the warmth of your body on his again— under his again.

He wanted you to be his— only his— and for him to be yours.

He wanted Undertaker to pay for what he’d done, to suffer, to perish.

And he would make it so, whether with the echoing shot fired from a silver pistol or with his own two fists closed around the scar that the Black Reaper wore with pride like a piece of priceless jewelry around his pale neck.

Whatever the means, Ron was going to fight.

He wasn’t ever going to start a new life, not until you had the chance to start over with him.

Then, and only then, could you both wake up from this day-dream-turned-nightmare.

And after three weeks, six days, and nine hours since Ron had made up his mind curled up under those quilts— three weeks, six days, and nine hours shivering out in the cold and breaking his back with the workload of practically running Shamus’s entire farm on his own— he changed out of the oversized overalls and denim jacket that had been lent to him and back into the blazer and slacks that he’d arrived in.

He checked the ammo left in the gun he’d kept hidden under his pillow every night, never putting it past Undertaker to have him tracked down even out in the middle of nowhere, and reloaded the silver pistol.

Ron left in the night, disappearing like a ghost, the only trace left to prove he’d ever been there at all being a few strands of ginger hair still stuck to the lumpy pillow up on the second level of the barn, and by the following afternoon, he’d landed back in London.

***

The mattress dipped to cradle your spine, Undertaker’s looming shadow casting over from where you lay beneath him.

Things had been tense since Othello’s funeral.

Different.

Unfamiliar.

Not just in Undertaker, but also within you.

Undertaker had sensed this. He’d sniffed out your dissatisfaction with him like a prized hunting hound and sought to eradicate it, tear through the flesh and the bones, devour it down to its very soul.

And you, ever the obedient little prey, had bared your neck to him and smiled as he’d sunk his fangs into your trembling pulse.

The only difference between now and before was, when he told you he loved you afterwards, you didn’t believe him.

And when you told him you loved him back, it was a lie.

Still, you both had needs you couldn’t quite deny. Needs that, when tended to, at least helped you forget, even if only for as long as the act lasted.

“You’re still my princess, aren’t you?” Undertaker would ask in a whisper, his hands caressing the soft curves of your body, his lips leaving gentle kisses down the line of your throat. “You’re still my good girl?”

“Yes…” you’d gasp when his fingertips ghosted over your ribs, cold touch trailing down to your hips, your thighs. “Yes, Daddy…” You’d lace your manicured little fingers through his long, silvery hair and close your eyes as he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of your expensive lace panties, slowly pulling them down. “Always… Always…”

The winter’s chill seeped in through the latticed windows this time of year, giving the house even more of a draft than usual, the frigid air causing fresh waves of gooseflesh to raise all over your body, your sensitive nipples furling tight until Undertaker took them into his warm mouth— just about the only thing warm about him most days.

You’d keen, arching your back to push further into the heat of his mouth, the feel of his wet tongue leaving sloppy, languid kisses to your breast almost making you wish these physical acts still held any semblance of real romantic intimacy.

Even when he’d lower his head between your thighs, hitching your legs over his broad shoulders and spreading you wider for him, marveling in the taste of you like you were made of the sweetest nectar, sugar-ripe fruit so tender it was ready to burst, you still felt you were merely going through the motions.

Sure, the way you’d throw your head back and one of those delectable little moans would pitch high in your throat was real. The ecstasy your lover granted you again and again until you were sore and spent and defiled to his satisfaction, even that was real, in the moment.

But in the moments that came after, once you’d been cleaned up and cuddled into his side, the fantasy that you’d once lived had faded to a pulsing ache of uncertainty and regret.

How long had it been since you’d felt like things were perfect? Like things were too good to be true?

How long had it been since an “I love you” was said and received as sincerely as a vow?

How long were you going to pretend?

How long had you been pretending before you’d noticed?

When you realized it had probably been forever, as far as Undertaker was concerned, that was when that hairline fracture that had nearly healed in your heart split itself all the way back open, cracking down to its core, shattering, the pieces bleeding out all the love and adoration you had left until all that remained was an empty, withered husk in your chest.

But, if there was one thing Undertaker knew how to do— even better than buying back your affections with lavish gifts and extravagant vacations— it was how to revive what had once decayed, breathe it back to life with any means necessary.

With every drag of his hips that hit that sweet spot deep inside of you. With every sharp line that your nails carved into his back. With every single utterance of “Daddy” and “angel” or “princess”, you two were slowly but surely stitching yourselves back to each other like a patchwork of love and lies and longing for something you might never really make whole again because, you’d come to realize, it had been made of shattered fragments from the start.

Undertaker had scars on the outside, sure. But just because yours weren’t as deep or as visible as his didn’t mean you were without.

If he ever found you a corpse laid out on one of those cold, metal tables, a razor sharp scalpel in his hand to cut you open with, he’d peel back your layers and retract in horror, your insides embedded in a careful quilting of scar tissue, every insecurity and lie and bit of spiteful resentment criss-crossing your cadavernous state like the intricate embroidery of the imported curtains of the master bedroom, marbled into your marrow and impossible to be carved out.

But Undertaker would never allow your corpse to become cold, much less cut open.

He hadn’t worked this hard for this long to just give everything up now.

Othello or no Othello, the Black Reaper wasn’t going to quit.

It was something he and a certain loose end had in common.

***

Grell stood at the docks that night, hugging his red trench coat tighter around his body as an icy breeze blew by, and stared out at the blackened sea sloshing against the harbor in a tired, dazed state.

Whether Grell was pacing the streets or speeding down the empty back roads or hacking up some poor bastard in the basement of headquarters, there hadn’t been a day that had gone by since the incident without Othello popping into his mind.

The skittery little scientist had been more of an influence among the Aurora Society’s ranks than any of them had realized, and that wasn’t even coming from a standpoint of professional contribution.

Othello had been a friend to each and every one of them, in his own strange and twisted way.

He’d been a friend, and now he was just a corpse.

Not even.

There hadn’t even been enough left to consider him a corpse.

Now, he was just some charred fragments placed into a coffin and buried six feet deep out of respect.

And Grell knew Ron had done it— had something to do with it at the very least— but still…

Even after spinning the story every which way over these past few weeks, Grell still couldn’t find it in himself to truly hate Ron.

And that, perhaps, was the most disturbing part about what had happened.

Grell tipped his head back to the sky, the moon nearly full and looking big enough to swallow up the few flickering stars that poked through the fog. He sighed, hung his head, and then turned on his heel to stroll back down the docks and head home.

Not two strides later, he stopped dead in his tracks.

At the opposite end of the salt-rotted planks was none other than the traitor, the escapee, the murderer.

Ron gave a timid wave, a hesitant smile, and simply greeted his old colleague with a weary, “Hey…”

For a moment, Grell felt relieved, his next exhale catching halfway in his throat when he remembered what his former friend had done, and a deep, frightening scowl etched itself onto his face. He marched towards Ron, each step gaining more speed, more ferocity, and just when he was on him, he drew his ruby dagger and went to drive the blade down.

Ron caught his wrist, the two of them putting up a brief struggle, but Ron knew that there wasn’t any real fight behind Grell’s action. Tears began to mist in Grell’s green eyes, and slowly but surely, his attack began to lose its strength.

“Why…?” Grell hissed through tightly clenched teeth, blinking away his emotions the best he could, giving one last try and thrusting the knife down before going limp in Ron’s grasp. Ron simply shook his head, and then Grell was lowering the knife and sliding it back into its home on the back of his belt.

Neither of them said anything for what felt like an eternity, just stared each other down, one emerald gaze trying to apologize while the other was hoping to intimidate.

“Undertaker is gonna kill you, y’know,” Grell then stated with only a hint of malice, trying to hide a sniffle in his sleeve before adjusting his coat and smoothing down his windswept hair. “You’ll die before you see her again.” Ron’s stare didn’t relent, merely shifted from sympathy into steel, wishing that Grell would just make this easy for him. Not that he deserved it. “I figure that’s why you even bothered coming back,” Grell went on in the prolonged silence, looking Ron up and down with a distasteful scrunch of his nose. “Either that, or you really do have a death wish.”

“Maybe,” shrugged Ron, his voice sharp. Resentful. “But before he can kill me, he’ll have to find me.”

Grell scowled at Ron, incredulous, mouth hanging open with several sentences on the tip of his tongue— pleads to beg him to just forget this and disappear, warnings that he’d never be able to outrun the Black Reaper forever, words to challenge him to see what would happen if he dared try whatever it was he was planning— but he couldn’t seem to pick a place to start.

The redhead then straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and spoke with an air of superiority as he responded, “This was never going to be a hunt, Ron. It’s a delivery. You’re going to walk right into Undertaker’s trap and make it easy for him.”

Ron paced past Grell, stopped at the very edge of the docks, and said with his back facing the man who’d just tried to kill him a few minutes ago, “We’ll see about that…”

Grell let out an exasperated sigh, trying to act like he didn’t care one way or the other if Ron threw his life away like this, but deep down, a small piece of him was on his side.

They’d been friends at one point in the not so distant past too, after all. And, for Grell, losing one friend to a sudden, violent end was enough.

“So, I’m assuming you don’t want me to mention that I even thought I saw you around here then?” Grell asked, holding back not even an ounce of attitude.

Ron hesitated, taking in the salty scent of the sea, savoring the way the air felt a little thicker down by the docks. Then he turned, faced Grell, and replied with an almost chipper tone, “Actually, if he asks, tell him I’ll be waiting where our first deal was made.” He nodded to himself, as if only realizing that was a good idea the moment it left his mouth. “Yeah…” he pondered, turning back towards the rolling waves. “I think that’ll work just fine.”

Grell shifted his stance, one hand on his hip as he used the other to swish a curtain of his crimson hair over his shoulder from where the wind had blown it forward. He clicked his tongue and gave a curt response of, “Anything else, your majesty?”

Ron took in another deep breath of the ocean air, wishing he could’ve seen the water during the daylight one last time, preferably at sunset when the waves looked like liquid gold as they touched the peach tinted sky on the horizon and rocked against the cargo ships, his entire world a pale shade of serenity for just those few fleeting moments.

“No,” he told Grell. “That’ll be all.” And when Ron glanced over his shoulder to meet his friend’s gaze that time, he looked an awful lot like he was saying goodbye.

***

“And then what did he say?” Undertaker pressed, an uncharacteristic sense of urgency in his tone.

Panic.

Rage.

Vengeance.

“Nothing,” Grell replied from the other end of the call, sounding a little worried himself upon hearing the boss so uneasy. “He just said he’d be waiting where you two did your first deal. Said that was all.”

Undertaker absentmindedly chewed on his lip as he rolled that information over in his mind a few times. The place where him and Ron had made their first “deal” had been Undertaker’s section of the supply docks— the very place Grell had just run into him. What angle was he pulling?

Unless…

Normally, that wouldn’t have posed such an issue. But tonight, obviously unbeknownst to Ron, Undertaker wasn’t at the estate with you or sitting in his private office at headquarters, staring out at the city he was soon to control, soon to own. Or so he thought.

No, tonight, Undertaker and you were enjoying some winter holiday festivities in a quaint little tourist town a couple of hours away. He’d promised to take you shopping and treat you to whatever you wanted, allowing you to pick out an extra dessert at the renowned bakery located in the central square to bring home with you if you acted on your best behavior.

You two had been out all day, only planning on heading back home once the shops closed around nine. And, seeing as it was only currently six, you were pretty disappointed when Undertaker informed you after his tense phone call that you two would have to end your outing early.

“I’m going to be dropping you off at headquarters, sweetheart,” he explained, opening the car’s passenger side door for you, trying to keep a lightness to his tone even as you pouted and whined. “It’ll just be for a little while. Daddy just has some business to attend to and then he’ll take you home and let you pick out a movie for us to watch, alright?”

It wasn’t a question or a suggestion, no matter how hard he tried to trick you into thinking it was.

But that was alright. You wouldn’t mind seeing Grell, if he was there. Plus, you just might be able to guilt Undertaker into letting you have an extra treat during the movie.

And Undertaker didn’t think this would take long. He just planned on walking right up to Ron, shooting him in the head, dropping his body into the harbor, and then heading back to his baby.

About halfway to headquarters, the car ride especially silent, you muttered out a timid, “So… what’s going on? Is everything ok?”

You saw Undertaker’s jaw clench, heard the slight squeak of his black leather gloves gripping the steering wheel harder. “It’s nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, princess,” he replied, the forced pleasantry in his tone a little strained, like a glass on the verge of shattering from a high-pitched vibration.

After another extended beat of quiet between you two, you asked, “Is this about Ron?”

The silence that haunted the car the rest of the way to headquarters was answer enough.

***

It only took about five minutes after being dropped off at headquarters for your anxiety to build.

It began like a slow drip of ice in your veins, the familiar inkling that something wasn’t right repeating in your mind with every increasingly frantic beat of your stuttering heart.

After ten minutes had gone by, you were starting to spiral into a bottomless pit of worry, all the what if’s clawing at your insides and beginning to draw blood.

Twenty minutes later, having found that pacing the upper halls where it was mostly quiet wasn’t doing much to help, you returned to the meeting room where Will was working on completing some paperwork— Undertaker had hand delivered you to his supervision before leaving in a hurry— the stoic man barely looking up as you reentered, fidgeting and clearly upset.

“When will Grell be back?” you asked, voice breaking a little as you felt the panic swell, breaths growing shallow and beginning to make you lightheaded.

William sighed, the scratching of his pen making your skin crawl as he signed over another dotted line and placed the sheet on top of the pile of completed assignments. Then he replied in that bored, somewhat irked drone of his, “I don’t know.”

You swallowed, shuffled on your feet, then opted to pull out one of the chairs at the far end of the long boardroom table and sit down. The ticking of the wall clock suddenly sounded too loud, a constant, even click without a beginning or an end. How long had it been now, you wondered, since Undertaker had dropped you here and sped off? How long would it be until he returned, possibly covered in blood— Ron’s blood, presumably— with his green eyes dark with the cruelty of a fresh kill?

“Do you— Can you tell me what’s going on?” you blurted out next, wringing your hands together under the table and bouncing your leg, staring urgently at Will, who now shifted his downcast gaze to meet yours, his action of signing the next line frozen as he answered, “No, I cannot.” He held your stare for only a moment more, then resumed his work.

“Well—” you persisted, Will letting out an agitated sigh and slumping slightly in his chair, very clearly frustrated with your constant interruptions. “Is Un— Is Daddy gonna be ok? He seemed really worried about whatever it was and I just—”

“Alright! I’m back—” Grell spoke as he entered the room, stopping short once he saw you, the look of exhaustion on his face quickly replaced with a comforting kind of fondness as he changed his tone and said, “Ah! There you are! Why don’t you and I leave Will alone and go take a walk down to the breakroom?” He winked at you, lowering his voice as if trying to keep a secret from his colleague who was only a few feet away, and bribed, “I’ll even split the red velvet cupcake I’ve been saving with you, if you want?”

Under any other circumstances, you would’ve giggled and gone without any hesitation, Grell playfully reminding you that it would be our little secret. But now, all of that adorable defiance was gone. All that was left in its wake was the pinched brow and slight frown that painted your worry.

“Before you go,” William addressed Grell, standing from his chair and carefully adjusting his pen so it lay perfectly parallel to the remaining papers, “I need a word.”

There was a pause then, and when you looked back to Will and saw him giving you that silently patronizing glare that said that this conversation wasn’t for your ears, your shoulders slumped.

“We’ll only be a minute, darling,” Grell assured you, placing a hand on your back and beginning to guide you out of the room with a sharp toothed grin. Right before he closed the doors, Grell said, “I’ll give you the bigger half if you’re patient, m’kay?” and then they were both gone from your view, the confidential discussion probably holding the answers to all your questions yet locked away behind the heavy, elegantly carved mahogany.

For a minute, you’d shifted back into compliance, leaning against the opposite wall and waiting for them to conclude like a good girl. But then, your curiosity always getting the better of you, you crept up to the doors and pressed your ear to the crack, hoping that maybe, if you stayed as still as you could and focused, you’d be able to make out some of what they were saying.

“… Said something… their deal,” you could just barely make out Grell speaking in a hushed tone, catching the confusion that was woven into his annoyance. “… Offered him backup… didn’t want it.”

There was a long pause, and you slowly put a little distance between yourself and the doorway. If they’d seen your shadow moving from under the door, you didn’t want to be caught with your ear pressed to it when they swung it open to double check they weren’t being overheard. After a little while with no sign of their suspicion, you continued to listen.

“… Settle it alone?” Will murmured, his low voice a little easier to make out.

“Something like…” Grell responded slightly louder. “But he should… Guy’s got a death wish.”

All you could think about was Ron, the memory of his carefree, boyish smile and soft, strawberry blonde hair flashing through your mind one second, then the image of his glasses smeared with blood, his charming emerald eyes drained of their sparkling light as his corpse lay crumpled at the bottom of a shallow grave the next.

You winced at the thought, praying to a god you probably didn’t even believe in for him to be spared, whether by retreat or nonlethal retribution.

“… Meeting him?” You cued back into Will’s voice, closing your eyes and holding your breath as you desperately tried to gain as much detail in their whispered words as you could.

“As far as I know… Told me a long time ago…” Grell replied, his attempt at secrecy loosening as his voice lost some of its hush. “First place they met were the docks.”

The docks.

Ever so carefully, you backed away from the door, tip-toeing down to the end of the hall before taking off running.

You had all the information you needed to know how to stop this.

And you would stop this, somehow, someway, so long as you weren’t already too late.

***

The clouds moved fast overhead, thick and dark and swallowing the glowing moon.

Ron had been waiting here— at the abandoned yard just off the edge of the supply docks— for what felt like an eternity, every single sound that wasn’t the sloshing of the waves or the whistling of the chilly breeze setting him on edge.

But he had to remain calm, reclaim his composure, and be ready when the time came.

Because Undertaker would show up eventually.

Ron knew he wouldn’t be able to resist, so long as Grell had passed on the message like he’d told him to.

So he waited.

He waited and he thought of you.

“Well, I’ll admit…” Ron whirled around as he heard the familiar rasp of Undertaker’s low, dangerous voice, drawing his gun immediately and taking a defensive stance. “When Grell first told me the news, I didn’t believe it.” Undertaker strolled closer with an eerie amount of nonchalance, though not with his guard completely down. “I thought, ‘well, I just have to see this for myself.’” He felt the weight of his gun in his coat pocket, casually slipped his hand over it and rested his gloved finger on the trigger.

A gust of strong, frigid wind howled through the docks, sending the silver ribbons of Undertaker’s hair flaring out wildly around him, the rumbling that drummed in the distance warning of the downpour that was on its way.

Undertaker’s smirk dropped, only a dark, vicious malice shining in his narrowed eyes. “But here you are… Ever the persistent little rat, aren’t you, Knox?”

Ron steadied his aim, swallowing hard and lining up the barrel with the Black Reaper’s forehead. “Better a rat than a snake,” he spit, applying a little more pressure to the trigger. He wished there was more daylight left to see how beautiful it would look once all that silver and black was stained with bright, deadly red. “Or a fucking psycho trying to play his hand at being God. Tell me, did you always plan on killing her or was that a more recent development?”

Undertaker’s smile returned as he pulled the pistol from his pocket, the weapon recently polished and craving fresh blood.

He let out a cold, cruel chuckle in response to Ron’s question.

“I bet you even know exactly how you’re gonna do it, too,” Ron went on, growing more enraged and impatient by the second, thunder growling louder as it echoed across the waves. “I know you’re not gonna cut ‘er up. No, that would be too gruesome… So which is it?” He took a lurching half step forward, the gun shaking in his hand. “Poison? Pills? Or maybe you’ll just wrap your hands around her throat and squeeze till she stops movin’, is that it?”

Still, Undertaker offered no clarity on the matter, merely continued to stare self-righteous and unblinking at his adversary across the graveyard of the docks.

“Yeah… Bet you wouldn’t mind leavin’ those kinds of marks on ‘er. Ones that’ll never let anyone forget who she belongs to! You sick—!”

“Are you done?” Undertaker called over, the baritone of his voice cutting through the shrill desperation of Ron’s.

Ron gripped the gun in both hands again, letting out a shuddering exhale as he prepared himself to do it— prepared himself to kill an unkillable man, to kill a god.

“Yeah,” he answered, barely loud enough for anyone besides himself to hear. “I’m done.”

Undertaker raised his arm, taking aim.

“Finally,” he scoffed, a sinister smirk carving itself across his scarred face. “Something we can agree on.”

***

Having faith in yourself had never been an easy thing for you.

It was always, “No, don’t do that, do this instead,” or “Aw, you look like you’re having a hard time. Here, why don’t you let me do it for you?” or “Are you really sure that’s what you want?” and any other number of condescending coos that carefully concealed the attempts to make you feel like you needed to rely on others, whether for decision making or taking care of yourself or any other matter of things you’d long lost track of keeping count of.

But as the Uber you’d hastily ordered on your phone sped down the twisting highways, each turn lending a narrower road than the last the closer you got to the coast, you clutched your determination with a death grip, knowing it wasn’t just your future at stake if you let it slip from your grasp.

Undertaker had demanded you delete all of your ride-sharing apps once he, along with any of his most trusted men, became your personal chauffeur, saying he didn’t trust complete strangers with his precious baby. But, lucky for you, you’d redownloaded them out of spite one day and your mom’s credit card was still connected to the account you’d long lost use for.

Until tonight.

Right now.

When it was just the stroke of luck you needed to escape.

“We’re getting close,” you informed the driver, constantly glancing from out your window to where the little pulsing blue dot that marked your current location inched closer to the sea.

It had just begun to rain, little drizzle drops misting the windshield, the stuttering rubber sound on one of the broken wipers only making you more anxious.

“There!” you pointed towards the shoulder of the road right up ahead, the driver upping the speed of his wipers as the rain began to hit the windshield a little harder. He gave you a skeptical glance from the rearview mirror, passing the spot you’d just directed him towards. You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes, scoffing out an agitated, “Here, just stop here.”

“But…” the driver— some guy in his early thirties by the looks of him— began hesitantly, only starting to slow to a stop once he caught the scowl forming on your face from the back seat. “It’s the middle of the road. There’s nothing even out here. And it’s—”

You exited the car and slammed the door, taking off down the steep slope of the hill that ran down the other side of the highway barrier, hearing the tires squeal as they momentarily hydroplaned over the slick pavement.

You could see the docks from here, just past a makeshift lot littered with abandoned or broken supply crates— the big, steel kind that get packed onto freight ships— even through the darkness and the fog and the rain that was slowly but surely morphing into a downpour, the harsh winds whipping up your skirt in a jittery frenzy and raising painful goosebumps over the skin of your bare legs.

You could see the docks, but no Undertaker or Ron.

Panic struck you like an arrow, sudden and razor sharp, your breath quickening faster than you could keep up with.

Because maybe you’d been too late after all.

Maybe Ron was already dead.

Maybe you were next.

As tears welled in your eyes, mixing with the rain that soaked your hair and streaked down your face in fast drops, you felt your chest heaving. Felt the tightness that twisted in your heart like a knife being turned in an already open wound. You clutched your fists to your stomach and doubled over, opened your mouth, and let out a sound that you’d never heard yourself make before.

The echo of your scream may have been drowned out by the thrumming of the storm, but you’d heard it loud and clear— the sound of your heart breaking. The sound of not being enough. Never being enough, no matter how hard you tried.

But still, you hadn’t come this far not to see it with your own eyes.

So you took off running down the hill, nearly stumbling with every step over the soggy earth, your shoes and socks drenched and stained with dark mud, and you didn’t stop until the hill tapered off onto flat land again, the old, rusted shipment containers that probably held any number of nefarious and ghastly goods at one point or another haunting the graveyard of the docks like eerie, rectangular guardians.

So close, you thought as you slowly staggered to a stop, feet sinking further into the mud. So close, but always too far.

But that’s when you heard it.

A single gunshot, ringing out through the hissing of the rain.

You froze, a gasp caught halfway in your throat.

And then, as if possessed by the past self you’d nearly lost— given up willingly, all for the sake of this life— you took off sprinting.

You wouldn’t be too late this time.

You’d make it or die trying.

***

Blood seeped through Ron’s fingers as he clutched his shoulder, his breath fogging before him as he panted out short, stuttering exhales, the rain washing away the tiny clouds along with the red that it dragged further down his sleeve, dripping off the end of his shivering fingertips.

He’d tried to fire off a few shots after he threw himself behind the cover of one of the shipment containers but Undertaker had been too fast, too swift as he sought refuge behind an adjacent crate. His triumphant chuckle bounced off the confines of the metal husk, the faint echoes taunting Ron out of his hiding place and back into action.

“Undertaker!” he bellowed, sharp and growling like the warning bark of a dog on the end of its chain. He tried to take aim from around the corner of his cover but saw no clear pathway for a successful shot. “Fuck it!” Ron spitefully snarled to himself, counting his ammunition before sliding the clip back into the pistol.

He had two shots left.

The next words he spit under his breath were, “Better to die fighting than a fucking coward.”

And Undertaker could sense Ron drawing closer, could picture him moving ever so cautiously until he figured he’d have nothing left to lose and then waste his last two bullets firing in blind rage. So, as this dance with death they’d both been partners in for so long was nearing its end, the Black Reaper figured he’d give his underling some parting words.

“I just find it all amusing,” Undertaker began, “that you ever gained any sense that you could win. The very notion of you even standing a single chance to begin with makes me laugh.” The end of his taunt was peppered with a forced snicker, which gained the exact result Undertaker was hoping for.

It stirred Ron’s rage.

Much more, and he would become reckless. That was all Undertaker needed to make himself more deadly. And so he went on, “I know this makes no difference to someone like you, but I love her. I loved her long before you and I’ll love her long after. And she knows it.” Then, just to himself he muttered, “Despite it all, she knows it…”

“You’re going to get her killed!” When Ron’s voice called back, he was closer now, putting Undertaker on higher alert as he readied his gun. “And, whatever your fucked up definition of love is, it’s sick and twisted and she deserves something better! Something without all your conditions and punishments and lies!”

Ron was coming up on the corner of the crate then, keeping quiet to better focus and trying to steady his breathing and shaking hands, biting back a wince as his shoulder throbbed in pain. When he rounded to face the opening of the hollow metal tunnel, gun raised and ready to fire off his last two shots the moment his vision caught silver, he froze.

“Shit—” he swore through clenched teeth, quickly taking cover in the now empty space and trying to apply a little pressure on his weeping wound. It was hard not to visualize his own death when he pulled his hand away and saw it completely stained with red.

Undertaker had slinked away at the last second, so now Ron had no idea where he could be. Every crate would be like pulling the trigger in a game of Russian roulette, each time he turned to aim down another tunnel possibly being the last step he took before being forced to his knees by a bullet or blood loss.

Undertaker moved about the abandoned yard like a specter, gracefully waltzing from one cover to the next despite all the soggy earth beneath his feet, the rain only picking up its incessant drumming, tapping out an anxious beat that reverberated through the metal tunnels every time he slipped into another one of the crates.

A shiver wracked through him, bones and all, as the cold rain trickled down the back of his neck, his pale silver hair now turned a sleek shade of steel as it stuck to his forehead and the back of his long black coat, also soaked through.

This place was an obstacle course, even on the best of days. But now, with the relentless storm drenching everything in sight and dulling the most vital of senses, each step held potential danger, every decision, no matter how simple, became a grave one.

But even so, this did not deter Undertaker from exposing his location.

“Everything I do is because I love her!” he shouted, having a vague idea of Ron’s current whereabouts. “Can’t you see? It’s because I love her that I’m willing to go so far, to do every single thing I’ve done that you’ve deemed wrong or evil!”

Ron tried to pick out his voice through the rain, trying to focus on the rough edges that frayed from Undertaker’s silken baritone. Was there perhaps a tremble of trepidation woven within his words? Perhaps if this were anyone other than the Black Reaper. Ron knew it was most likely the cold that was causing his tone to shiver, but tried to convince himself otherwise for his own sake.

“We’ll be together forever, her and I,” Undertaker continued, speaking lower this time, not necessarily caring if Ron heard him but wanting to recite his fantasy out loud nonetheless. “I’ll fulfill Othello’s dying wish to see the reanimation technology brought to fruition and with that her and I will be preserved for the rest of time.”

He’d release it to the world too, eventually. At least, to anyone able and willing to pay the outrageous price for eternity.

“I burned it all down, remember!?” Ron called out. Undertaker stiffened from his hiding spot. How had Ron managed to close in so fast? As Ron crept closer to the next shipment crate, he spit under his breath, “Good luck swallowing all that ash for immortality.”

Ron turned and took aim down the tunnel, the one he was sure his enemy would be standing in the center of, but flinched when once again the area rendered itself empty. Then, from behind him, that low, sinister confidence spoke.

“Not everything,” Undertaker said, that cruel smirk curved up on one side of his face. Ron whirled to face him, his finger on the trigger.

And so two more gunshots mingled with the hiss of the pouring rain.

***

Even when your chest began to burn, lungs constricting as you sucked down gulp after gulp of the frigid air…

Even as your legs ached, running as fast and as hard as you could, the rain pelting your skin as wave after wave of the freezing drops hit your body like hundreds of tiny needles…

Even as the mud drenched and ruined your expensive, designer clothes— as mascara ran down your cheeks in splattered black streaks— as you kicked off your shoes entirely because, although they were one of your favorite pairs, they were only slowing you down and your feet went numb as the drowned ground soaked through your socks…

Even then, you wouldn’t slow down.

The gunshots rang out through the graveyard of the docks, splicing through the downpour and making you gasp, your next step staggering, before you took off in yet another painful sprint. But it wasn’t long before the hazy silhouette of two familiar figures came into sight through the darkness.

You stopped short, tried to call out in between your panting breaths, but no one heard you over the storm.

If they couldn’t hear you, they’d have to see you.

So you kept running.

Sure enough, it was Undertaker and Ron. You knew it all along— knew it months and months ago when you’d first started to mess around, long before the flirtatious texts and the secret sex and all the other interactions that had betrayed and challenged Undertaker— that things might end up this way. With Ron lying on the ground with a bullet through his shoulder and a gash across his temple, blood pouring from both wounds as Undertaker stood over him, aiming his gun down at the boy you might’ve been able to love in a different life.

They were still a ways away, but close enough to recognize your sopping wet shape the same as you did theirs if only they looked over. You tried shouting again, shrieking for them to stop, your throat going raw as new claws of desperation raked their hooked talons through your vocal chords.

But still no one heard you. And, if they did, they deemed you unimportant. An issue to be dealt with once the matter at hand was settled.

You were tired of being a side character in your own god forsaken life. So, as absolutely terrified as you were, you marched forward, each step nearly sending you slipping or sliding or sinking, yet each step was more sure and strong than the last.

You locked your gaze on Undertaker, praying to some invisible force to spare you just a few more seconds before the reaper claimed Ron’s life, and saw Undertaker’s mouth move. Only then did you freeze for a brief moment, trying to read his lips but to no avail.

The look on his face told he was saying something vital— something about the deep pinch of his sparse, silvery brow, his emerald eyes squinting and nose scrunched as a bitter snarl pulled up one corner of his mouth, teeth bared and glinting like he was ready to sink them into the nearest jugular and tear with all his might— something meant only for the ears of a dying man and his executioner.

When Undertaker put both hands around his gun, raising it to fire the final shot, you snapped out of it, kicked back into action and not stopping until the Black Reaper— the love of your life, the worst man you knew, the warden who’d clipped your wings only to keep you locked away in a pretty cage— finally noticed your presence and dared to look your way.

“Stop! Stop—! Wait!” You came stumbling forward, Undertaker’s formerly vicious and terrifying gaze melting to something cold and stoic before softening to an emotion caught between concern and rage upon landing his sight on your severely disheveled state.

You practically skid to a halt, standing before the barrel of Undertaker’s gun and holding out your hands as if that had the power to stop a bullet from exiting the chamber the moment his finger pulled the trigger. You didn’t even know if Ron was still alive or if you’d been too late, but still, you had to try.

“Please— Please! Please don’t! Please don’t kill him!” You begged, your eyes flicking back and forth between Undertaker and the gun, part of you wondering if this might be how you met your end after all. Because Undertaker wasn’t lowering his weapon. He was hearing you, yes. But was he really listening?

“Sweetheart, please,” Undertaker growled, low and menacing, his stare narrowing at you like he was trying to decipher whether you were an ally or an adversary. “Step out of the way.”

“You can’t!” you continued desperately, your heart hammering in your throat and making every syllable quiver with fear and adrenaline. “You can’t kill him! Please! I’m begging you!”

Undertaker clicked his tongue, stepped forward and swatted you out of the way as if you were nothing more than a pesky little fly, but you grabbed his arm with every ounce of strength you had left. It wasn’t much. Even on a day you hadn’t just sprinted through the freezing, pouring rain you could’ve never hoped to have faced him and won. But Undertaker must’ve felt your desperation, because again he hesitated.

He hesitated and heard you out.

Besides, it wasn’t like Ron was going anywhere.

“Remember—!” You began, already choking on your words, a powerful sob wracking through your chest, hollowing you out, perhaps never to be whole again. “Remember the first time we met! Do you remember who you were then? How you were?” You were searching his eyes for any hint of understanding, any shred of hope that he would heed your words, that he’d remember any sliver of himself that wasn’t this— that wasn’t vengeful and vicious and violent.

“You were so kind…” Your voice cracked, shoulders beginning to shudder as tears filled your eyes, unable to hold them back as the rain pulled them down your face. “You were so gentle… You— You were the first person in a long time to show me any kind of consideration!” Undertaker lowered the gun, though still kept his finger loosely on the trigger. “And I thought it was all too good to be true!” You sniffled, the end of your sentence garbled from all the tears and rain running into your mouth. “Sometimes I still think it is, but—” You took a chance, let go of his arm, and slowly reached for his pale face. As you touched his chilled skin, the downpour turning him clammy, you looked deep into his eyes— the same eyes you’d seen gaze upon you with all the love in the world one minute only to glower at a man he was soon to execute the next— and said, “I love you. God, I love you…”

You closed your eyes for a moment, wanting nothing more than to touch your forehead to his. To be in some place warm and familiar and safe in his arms. To go back to a time before all of this, before you’d known you loved a monster and would still choose to love a monster even after you learned its darkest, most ugly parts…

But all you had was now. And, now, you had to save not just Ron, but yourself and Undertaker as well.

Because you would lose more than just Ron if Undertaker pulled that trigger.

You’d lose everything— your mind, your home, the man you really did love, despite it all…

“But if you do this—” You began again as your eyes snapped open, and while they were still bloodshot with tears, your stare cut deeper than daggers, deadly. “If you do this I will never love you again. Do you hear me?” You curled your grip around his jaw a little tighter. Sort of like how he did to you when you were being an insolent little brat in bed, warning you that, if you didn’t listen to Daddy and behave, an ample punishment would be soon on its way.

Undertaker didn’t respond, but by the way his throat bobbed with a nervous swallow, you knew the message was sinking in, no matter how reluctantly.

“But if you let him live…” You softened, slowly removing your trembling little hands from his face to hug around his waist, pressing your cheek to his soaked coat, pretending you could hear a human heart beating underneath and not the eerie humming of a hollow corpse. “If you let him live, I’ll love you forever and ever… For the rest of my life and whatever comes after…” You looked up at him, the rain finally beginning to die down a bit as you blinked drops from your eyes, and held your breath as you hoped even a fraction of what you’d said was being taken seriously by him.

When Undertaker placed his non-lethal hand on the small of your back, pressing you a little closer to his chest, you gulped, the breath you’d been holding in forced to exhale shakily through your nose.

“You don’t have to be a bad man,” you told him, a small, soft smile quivering up on your lips, all the color drained from them on account of how cold you were. “I’ll forgive you for everything you’ve ever done, to me or anyone else… Every last thing…” You returned to his embrace, cold as it was, and tried to trick yourself into believing the words leaving your mouth. “I’ll forget all of it… Just spare him, please.”

And then, just as quickly as the storm had rolled in and wreaked its havoc, it was reduced to a misty drizzle, a ghostly fog forming in its wake across the land, floating over the surface of the waves in swirling tendrils rimmed with silver by the moon.

Headlights cut through the gloom, Grell’s cherry red Lamborghini speeding towards the three of you and stopping with a skid, him and Will jumping out and rushing towards all the commotion, both looking dire, though neither had their guns drawn.

Everything after that was mostly a blur.

Undertaker told you to go with Grell, and when you refused, he told you that if you went with Grell he’d spare Ron. You knew he was lying, so you stubbornly insisted on staying right where you were.

Undertaker then ordered his men to take you by force, and even as you kicked and screamed and fought with everything you had, you were no match.

You were afraid all of it had been for nothing.

But as you sat in the car, Grell in charge of keeping you from escaping and running right back towards the scene, you watched the rest unfold, the world beyond the car silent and uncertain.

Undertaker and Will talked back and forth in a rapidfire fashion, though you could only really see Undertaker’s face. He looked more than furious. He looked wrathful. But a gasp hitched in your chest when you saw William kneel down and help Ron up, who, though bloody and battered, seemed to still be breathing.

With Ron half slung over Will’s shoulder, the two of them began to stagger away, disappearing further into the mist. Meanwhile, Undertaker stood in the center of it all, as still as a statue, the gun clutched loosely in his hand as it hung by his side and he watched them go. He could still shoot. He could still win. But he must’ve believed you, for all he did was wait until they were completely out of sight. Then he came back to retrieve you from Grell’s car.

“Come, my love,” he beckoned, extending a hand to you, which you took more out of fearful necessity than trusting relief. “Let’s go home.”

***

By the time Ron came to, he was sitting with his hands bound in the backseat of a car in the middle of a runway, a small jet parked and ready for takeoff just across the way.

His head was pounding, his shoulder was bandaged, his heart was broken, but he was still alive.

He was still alive…

“So he was really serious…?” Ron asked, his voice gravelly and defeated, as he met Will’s steely gaze in the rearview mirror. “He’s really gonna let me go, after all that…?”

Will remained silent, just continued to stare, his expression unreadable.

Ron let his head loll back against the headrest, a sickened smirk lifting one side of his lips. “Or is he just flying me somewhere far away to do the deed…? Y’know, so I can’t haunt his territory…” He breathed out a weak chuckle. If he were talking about anyone else, he probably would’ve been joking. But with Undertaker… who knew what someone like that man really believed.

Will turned the key in the ignition, the car humming back to life. “This is a kindness, you know,” he finally spoke, not even bothering to glance over his shoulder into the backseat. Not that he had to. Ron had no strength or weapons to fight him with, let alone the intention. Still though… They had worked together all this time. By some people’s standards, that might’ve made them friends, to some degree. Though, in this line of work, Ron supposed, loyalty only lied with oneself.

Will let out a troubled sigh, quietly cleared his throat, and said, “Undertaker wasn’t sure how coherent you were during the initial discussion and asked me to repeat the stipulations of this deal to you before sending you on your way.” Only then did William turn halfway to gaze into the backseat, though the look he gave Ron wasn’t a comforting one. It was almost pleading, as if to say, don’t waste this chance you’ve been given.

Don’t waste this gift.

“Yeah, whatever, go ahead…” Ron droned, as if he were merely bored during a long drawn out meeting and not about to have his entire life unwillingly changed forever.

William faced forward again and began to recite the terms and conditions Ron, like most deals made with the Black Reaper, had no choice but to follow or face certain death. And so the rules of Ron’s newfound freedom were as such…

If he ever showed his face in England ever again—

If he ever tried to contact you in any way, shape, or form—

If Ron tried to exist anywhere near the sphere of you and Undertaker’s world—

Then Undertaker would— with God and the Devil and every other holy or haunting higher power in between as his witness— finish what he’d started that night between the abandoned shipment crates that lined the graveyard of the docks.

“I get it…” Ron scoffed. “So I’m banished…” He slumped forward and rolled his neck, a few popping sounds filling the bleak silence of the car along with his stifled groan. “Well…” he sighed, forcing one of those charming grins despite it all. “Where ya takin’ me, Captain? New York? L.A.?” His playful attitude took a hit as a new realization occurred to him. “Or is he droppin’ me in the middle of the sticks somewhere I don’t even speak the language?” He leaned back in his seat, scoffed a little as he mumbled, “Though, if it were somewhere in the tropics, I don’t think I’d mind…”

“First of all,” William corrected, placing one hand on the wheel while the other adjusted his glasses, “I’m not taking you anywhere. You’ll be going with some of the others. Up and comers who have something to prove about loyalty and responsibility…” He almost rolled his eyes just then, the closest thing to sarcasm he might’ve even shown in someone else’s presence. “But they will not harm you, rest assured. And second…” he paused, trying not to grin as he confirmed with a hint of satisfaction, “You’re being sent to New York.”

Ron perked up, unable not to feel a little relief that at least, as much as he hated every facet of his current situation, he’d have more than one kind of entertainment to distract him from the misery that was sure to settle over him like dust over a forgotten antique the longer he had to be away from you.

He asked, eyes wide and shining, “As in, New York, the city, New York?”

Will nodded, turned up his radio a few notches just to drown out the silence. “New York, as in, the city, New York,” he repeated.

Ron had to stifle a chuckle when he recognized the song quietly playing was, “Moving to New York” by the Wombats. How long had it been since he’d listened to music? I mean, really listened to music? Like nodding along to his favorite songs and letting himself get lost in the beat, clumsily singing to the melody of which all the words he did not know?

“So… what?” Ron quirked up an eyebrow, skeptical. “He’s flyin’ me to New York City free of charge and then…?” He let what remained of his vague question linger in the air, the final chorus playing out as Ron imagined all kinds of horrors and hardships— like being dropped off and left to figure the rest out on his own with no money or contacts or phone and a bloody suit and cracked glasses to wander the streets and commit who knew what kinds of crimes just to survive.

He’d done it before, he supposed, and back then he hadn’t even had a suit. So, perhaps, by those standards, things wouldn’t be too bad after all.

“And then,” Will explained, “it’s up to you. So long as you abide by the terms and conditions—”

“Then I’m really free…” Ron sighed out in reverence, unable to fully accept it as truth, though the way his hands shook and he couldn’t wipe the wide, borderline maniacal smile from his face spoke to just how much he wanted to believe it. His voice nearly cracked when he hung his head and repeated in a whisper, “I’m free…”

“Oh, and I suppose I should also mention,” added William, “that there is a rather modest apartment waiting for you.” Ron’s head shot up, meeting his colleague’s— former colleague’s— gaze with an unamused expression.

“Very funny,” Ron said, monotone.

But Will wasn’t joking.

Ron wondered what the catch was, then remembered that his freedom and the housing that came with it were all being paid for with the ultimate price— never being able to see or hear from you again.

So Ron got on that plane.

He sat with his hands bound for the entire eight hour flight and stared out the tiny oval window at the ocean below until land finally returned to view.

He let four unknown, bespectacled faces escort him into an unmarked car and drive him through all the glittering lights and blinking signs that decorated Times Square.

He gazed upon the streets he would learn to call home with a childlike wonder, taking in all the whimsey and mystery and debauchery the foreign city could offer at merely a glance.

And, the moment he was delivered downtown to his small, albeit nicer than he’d expected, apartment complex, the bindings on his wrists were cut, and his door clicked shut and locked behind him…

Ron began to scheme.

Because he still wanted to kill Undertaker. And he would. But he could only do that if he was alive. So, for now, Ron would respect this so-called deal that Undertaker had conjured up. He’d respect it just until he had a working plan in order and could retaliate accordingly.

Ron walked further into the apartment— his apartment— and stood in the middle of the living room. It was sparsely furnished, but at least there was a couch, so he plopped down on it and let out a sigh as he sunk into the cushion, flinching when he leaned too far onto his injured shoulder.

He remembered all the afternoons and evenings spent next to you on the couch in Undertaker’s mansion, how sometimes you’d let your thigh rest against his, allow your body heat to bleed through the fabric of his trousers while you read your book or scrolled on your phone or watched a movie. How, sometimes, when you got tired waiting for Undertaker to return if he was working later than expected, you’d rest your head on his shoulder, curl into him for warmth and comfort.

Ron closed his eyes, let his head lean back, his hand lightly brushing against the vacant spot next to him. The spot he imagined you’d one day be sitting by his side after he’d won this battle once and for all.

Ron smirked. It was but a tired twitch of an ill-intentioned smile, but it held all the disdain he needed at the moment.

In the empty, quiet apartment, thousands of miles away from the man he so wished could hear this decree, Ron muttered, “You should’ve killed me when you’d had the chance…”

He saw your smiling face flash through his mind, no longer even having a photo on his phone to remember it by.

But, amidst his sorrow, his mourning, Ron found it in himself to laugh.

He then understood why Undertaker always cackled after a kill. How the low, menacing chuckle soon grew into an uncontrollable chorus of insatiable laughter.

He didn’t know how long he went on like that— head thrown back and mouth stretched impossibly wide as a stitch formed in his side— but once his crazed hilarity died down to sporadic giggling, everything soon returned to silence.

“Yeah…” Ron said, going into the kitchen with the intention to retrieve a glass of water, but instead found an unopened bottle of Undertaker’s favorite, expensive whiskey, a black satin bow tied perfectly around the neck under the guise of being a gift, but what Ron really knew was a reminder, a warning, a threat.

He twisted the top and poured himself a generous glass, some of it sloshing out onto the counter before he threw the whole thing back and swallowed it all in one go. He slammed the glass— one of three that he’d found in the otherwise empty cabinets— on the countertop and let out a long, hissing sigh as the alcohol burned through his system.

He dug his fingers tighter around the crystal glass.

“You really, really should’ve killed me.”

***

You and Undertaker sat inside the black 1953 Rolls-Royce Dawn Drophead for a long time after he’d retrieved you from Grell’s car, the silence that hung between you two heavy enough to sink you to the bottom of the sea.

You were still trembling, still in shock from the whole ordeal, but half of your shaking was probably due to how cold you were, Undertaker’s thick black coat draped over your shoulders but doing nothing to quell your violent shivering.

“Look at you…” he finally cooed, seeming to snap out of his own shock, gently reaching over to brush some soggy strands of hair away from your forehead and trying not to feel too guilty when you first flinched away from him. “You’re a fright. You must be freezing…” He started the car, the heat kicking on at full force now that Undertaker had decided to grant you that small mercy.

As he began to pull away from the docks, he said in that same sweet, caring tone, as if he hadn’t just traumatized you beyond belief, “I’ll draw us a bath as soon as we get home. And you haven’t even eaten yet, you must be starving. Just say the word and I’ll make you whatever you want.”

You remained silent, your jaw locked as your teeth clattered, though even if it were easy for you to speak right now, you still don’t think you could’ve.

What more was there to say?

You’d signed your life away, agreed to become the perfect, pretty little prisoner that Undertaker had always wanted you to be so Ron could have his own life spared and gain his freedom.

What higher form of love was there than such a sacrifice?

As the fog that floated near the water gave way to a dark stretch of road, you wished that you could’ve looked into Ron’s green eyes one last time, felt his calloused thumb stroking gently along the top of your hand, heard his boyish laugh, seen that charming smile, been able to express to him even a fraction of what he’d meant to you.

But now he was gone from your world forever, so all you could do was hope he knew— across lands and oceans and time— that what you’d felt for him was the real thing. No matter how brief the love you’d shared was, no matter how reluctant, every last bit of it had all been real.

And so you’d send a silent prayer in your mind every night to him, a wish that maybe one day you’d see him again, whether from far off in the distance or passing on the street. A part of you even hoped you’d see him with his arm slung around another girl, that he’d be smiling and gazing at her the same way he used to smile and gaze at you. At least then you’d know he was happy, that he’d found a way to love someone he could actually have.

That’s what you hoped for him. You hoped he got to have what you never would get to. And that was a love as pure and as free as what you’d spend the rest of your days skillfully pretending you and Undertaker shared.

As you pulled up to the gates of the estate grounds— the iron wrought bars surrounding your beautiful cage— you said to Undertaker, no sweetness or innocence or any of those other disgustingly fabricated sugar-coated tones you’d adapted to take around him present in your voice, “If you don’t honor the promise you made to me and let Ron live, wherever you’re taking him…” Undertaker stopped the car halfway up the driveway, caught completely off guard by your own low, dangerous tone. “I can promise you that you will lose me.”

You looked over at him with a menacing gaze, one you’d learned to imitate directly from him, and felt a sick satisfaction when you caught just a flicker of fear behind his otherwise blank stare, concluding with, “So you better not think you can just kill him when I’m not looking. I will find out.”

You held each other’s stares for what felt like an eternity and an instant all at the same time. Then Undertaker looked back out the windshield, continued to creep up the horseshoe driveway to the front steps, and put the car in park.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” he smirked, turning the key in the ignition and killing the lights on the dash. “I can assure you, if Ron were to be killed, it would be by my hand and my hand alone.”

He stepped out of the car and came around to open your door for you, offering said hand to help you out which, for possibly the first time in your life, you didn’t take. You stood there and watched as he closed your door behind you, pulling his damp coat further around your shoulders as a new chill began to slither up your spine.

“Now, I do believe a bath and a hot meal is in order.” Undertaker extended his hand to you once more and, that time, you gave him the courtesy of taking it, allowing him to guide you back inside.

From then on, that night was never spoken of again. Slowly but surely, things returned to normal and you fell back into your role as Daddy’s perfect little princess. But, unlike how things were in the past, you were no longer a pawn. You’d become the queen opposite Undertaker’s king, always making the right moves and ready to put him in checkmate if he ever betrayed his word.

And, yes, sometimes the act ceased to be false and slipped back into something more natural. But every night, as your heart sang its silent prayer from the other side of the world, you reminded yourself of the life, and love, that you could’ve had.

I hope that you’re happy, you’d wish for Ron. I hope that you’re free.

And, sometimes, if you got lucky, you’d be able to meet with him in your dreams.

***

Snow blanketed the gardens beyond the mansion windows, all the wilted flowers and bare hedges made beautiful by the fresh layer of shimmering white as more fluffy tufts of gossamer flurries swirled around the winter wonderland.

It was almost Christmas. Just a few more days before Undertaker showered you with diamonds and Chanel and maybe, if you were really lucky, the kitten you’d seen in a petshop window in passing a few weeks ago that you’d practically begged him for.

It had been an entire year since the downpour by the docks changed all your lives forever. An entire year since Othello’s funeral. An entire year since the basement of headquarters had been burned to a demolished char, and since rebuilt, the tragedy paved over with shiny new linoleum.

The mansion was adorned with all kinds of special, sparkling decorations per your usual request since you’d started living with Undertaker a few years back, and tonight Grell and Will had been invited over for dinner.

Still though, the grand dining table was so much emptier without Ron and Othello. So much lonelier.

Even though you hadn’t known Othello that well, you could tell what he’d meant to Undertaker, could hear the sadness and the loss that laced its way into the toast he made that night about how, despite their differences, the scientist had been the closest friend he’d ever had. They’d known each other since their university days, after all. They’d shared the same impossible dream, nevermind the diverging intentions.

The hardest part for you though was, of course, Ron’s absence. But as you stared out the window at the snow falling like magic, enjoying the rare, merry and peaceful atmosphere that had filled the house over these past few weeks in preparation for the holidays, you couldn’t help but smile and hope that, wherever he was, it was snowing there too.

You hoped that he’d taken care of himself, that he’d found a path that brought him happiness. You hoped that he’d found love and been able to be loved in return. But even if he hadn’t, you still hadn’t given up on loving him from afar.

It was during occasions like this, where everyone— everyone who was left, anyway— came together that were the hardest for you. The urge to send him a text or leave a voicemail was always resurfacing, but there was no way for you to do something even as simple as that anymore. Undertaker had replaced your phone with the latest model soon after the whole ordeal, and while all of your other contacts had remained, it was like a gaping hole in the list of alphabetical names where Ron’s used to be with a cute little ice cream emoji next to it.

For a long time, you thought maybe Ron would try and contact you somewhere down the line, perhaps using the sneakier method of reaching out to you through social media or somewhere untraceable by Undertaker that wouldn’t show up on phone records, but so far you’d heard nothing. Though, the naively optimistic piece of you that was left, no matter how small, still held out hope.

For now, perhaps the silence was for the best. It didn’t help with how much you missed him, but it did make it easier for you to maintain your persona. So when Undertaker noticed you staring off into space, a melancholy look on your face as you lounged on the couch after dinner, taking some alone time while the other men talked, and he asked you, “What’s wrong, darling? Is everything alright?” it was easy for you to snap out of it and give an adorable smile, crafting the honey-glazed excuse of, “Sorry! I just felt like I forgot something but I think I remember it now,” as you reached up to him, motioning for him to either lift you into his arms or join you on the couch where you could better cuddle up to him.

He chose the second option, feeling a sense of relief when you migrated closer to him, snuggling into his chest and seeking comfort in his familiar scent, his expensive but subtle cologne lulling you. “What did you remember?” he asked you, gently combing his long fingers through your hair like he tended to do.

You smiled— a precious, vicious little grin— and climbed into his lap, intertwining your fingers behind his neck and humming out a lilting note before giving him a peck on the cheek. “I just remembered to tell you I love you, is all!” you lied.

Though, today, it wasn’t so much a lie as it was a cover up. Because, today, you did love him. You’d started loving him again a few months back. You’d made him work hard enough for it what with all his lavish gifts and luxury vacations and the fact that he’d become far more lenient when it came to punishing you for any bad behavior or rule breaking.

You were probably going to love him for many months to come, too— many years. That, you realized, was much more complicated to control than your cute little persona. Your head could be fickle as often as it wanted, but your heart…

Your heart could never lie.

And while your mask would crack one day and completely fall away, perhaps never to be worn again, that day wasn’t today. And whenever Undertaker spoke of this love lasting forever, in life and death and anything that came after, you wondered if that were true.

If there really was a way to make it last forever, would you even want it?

You were broken from your conflicting thoughts when Undertaker invited you to join him and the boys downstairs where you’d been denied so many times before. You knew all they did down there was play pool and drink and talk business more often than not— things that would bore you, no doubt— but you were just happy to be included rather than sent away, so you eagerly agreed as Undertaker stood and guided you by the hand to your least visited part of the house you’d come to call home.

And that night, as you watched all of them joke and laugh and drink like they were merely old friends and not killers or cons or conniving criminals, you thought that, at least for moments like these, the act you had to put up was worth it.

For this— to feel like you belonged somewhere, belonged to and with someone who loved you more than life itself— you could play your part. You could live this life and maybe even enjoy it without having to pretend. And, whatever was to follow, be it next week or next year or decades from now, even after death came to claim you, you could deal with that when it arrived.

Because you were happy.

However fleeting, right now, you were happy.

***

The snow in New York was less serene than how he remembered it in London, but no less picturesque. The way the colorful lights glowed through the frost and made the hustle and bustle of the city a little quieter, a little slower paced as the usually packed streets thinned out the more white that covered the ground…

Ron wished that you could have seen it.

As he gazed out his apartment window, delicate ice lining the edges of the pane like elegant froths of lace, he fantasized that one day you would.

He’d found a bartending job not long after his abrupt arrival last year. He’d been a fast learner, put his free time, of which then he’d had an abundance of, into honing his new craft. It had helped take his mind off of you when the regret started gnawing on his heart. That, and it ensured he’d get better tips at the end of the night to continue paying for the apartment he’d learned hadn’t come completely free past the first month.

But on nights like tonight, when he had off from the usual face-paced, high energy and social setting of his job, Ron liked to be alone. He liked to sit near the dim lamplight, a quiet playlist filling the space from the small speaker on the kitchen counter, and think about you. He liked to imagine what kind of dress you’d be wearing, thought of you giving a graceful twirl and letting out one of those adorable, angelic giggles as you did so. He also sometimes thought of undressing you, devouring the sight of your matching lingerie that, one day, would be for his eyes only.

He imagined just holding you, letting you fall asleep safe and sound in his arms, of himself dozing off as his head rested atop yours.

He imagined going through mundane, daily life with you— of cooking dinner together and folding laundry, making the bed and going for walks down your favorite market streets on sunny days, of people watching in Central Park while you pointed out all the dogs you thought were cute.

But, as he’d become accustomed to during his daydreams and fantasies, the good images and memories would soon become replaced by betrayal and bloodshed. Because, just like Undertaker, Ron intended to finish what he’d started.

There had scarcely been a day when Undertaker’s final words to him hadn’t rung out though his mind, the promise of a man who was so sure he’d been victorious only to have that promise rescinded into a threat.

“You have given me more than one cause to start a vendetta,” Undertaker had scorned. “So I’ll make sure to repay you for all the trouble in your afterlife tenfold.”

At the time, it had all sounded like a bunch of jumbled nonsense to Ron’s hazy brain, between the bleeding and the rain he wasn’t even sure he’d heard him right. But now Ron recognized those words for what they were, or rather, what he’d reforged them to be.

They were the driving force for his own revenge, the teeth gnashing at his heels and reminded him to run, run, run.

But not away from the danger. Oh no, not away.

Ron would throw himself to the wolves he’d once hunted with and reemerge as the hunter carrying their pelts. He would make them wonder if they’d ever had teeth at all the next time he flashed them a smile. And he’d make sure that you— lovely, lonely, lost little lamb that you were in their world— would never have to bow down to their tyranny again.

Because Ron had a vendetta of his own to settle. But for now, he allowed himself to watch the snow fall and imagine you already safe by his side.

***

(Wow. So that’s the end everybody. I don’t know what else to say besides I really hope you enjoyed it and are at least somewhat satisfied with the way things ended up.

Back when I was writing the first chapters over a year ago, I asked for some feedback on who people thought the reader should end up with— Undertaker or Ron?

I got sort of mixed reviews, but honestly back then even I wasn’t quite sure how this all would end. I guess you could call this ending “ambiguous”, but I’m satisfied with not strictly choosing one side or the other.

I do have one last prologue chapter that I’m going to be releasing sometime in the future of how Undertaker and Reader met, but after that, I’d say this series is probably done. Though maybe I’ll release short little tidbits of additional scenes/ideas if I get the inspiration.

Anyway, I just wanted to give one last big thank you for reading this series! It’s been quite the roller coaster for me in many ways, as well as oddly therapeutic in others. I already have my next Undertaker x Reader project in order too, so don’t worry, I’ll be writing for him again very soon.

Thank you so much again <3 See you next time!)

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aran-ryan-herigate-posts · 1 year ago

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Aran Ryan fanbase headcanons 2 -RESULTS-

And finally we have the results!

I was surprised to see some shared headcanons from the past!!!

Let's begin!!!

Can Aran speak Irish (Gaelic)?

44,4 % : Yes and he is very fluent

Is Aran liked/supported by his in-universe fans of the WVBA?

55,6% : Both of them are douchbags and true supporters

OPEN QUESTION of: Is Aran liked/supported by his in-universe fans of the WVBA?

He is genuinely adored by some, who go out of their way to defend his actions and paint him as a better person than he his, but others like him as a villain and others still think of him as a joke and only like him because of that.

yes and they want to see what other ideas he comes up with, maybe he gets mail from them where they share their ideas

It's a mixed bag- You have those the genuinely support him, others who started supporting him as joke & now can't stop, those who support him as a joke only, & unfortunately some who only support him as a justification for being an asshat.

he has fans on either side some fans are douchebags and some are like us on tumblr calling him a silly goose

I can see some if his fans being douchebags by saying, you ruined boxing, cheater or you're fecking crazy,

They’re either bloodthirsty, Irish or just want to watch matches.

Most of them love his crazy behavior and generally think of him as some maniac that escaped Dublin prison and got in by his unorthodox fighting style (which didn’t happen at all, Aran did a bit of fighting before WVBA but he got in clean imo.) Aran tries to distance himself from his troublesome fans, simply because he dislikes rumors made by him. Some of his fans are genuinely supportive and like seeing him and his antics, and think he could genuinely become champion if he stopped cheating.

Probably

It’s a 50/50 chance, but it’s likely no since the people don’t like masochists in the ring

I'm not sure but there's a probably a minority that actually likes and they're a true fan

I’ve got a feeling he doesn’t have a lot of fans who would actually come up to him since they’ve seen what he’s like in the ring, so they usually just watch him from afar if they see him in public

I think there are both fans that adore his cheating, but the vast majority thinks he takes it too far in some ways (i.e attacking the ref and aggressive taunting during intermissions), even by WVBA standards bc lets be real, almost EVERYONE cheats.

Yes but in the way of "this guy is a car crash in motion I want to see it get even wilder"

i put my amswer under his fans imitate him but more so because they want to grab his attention. thus they end up being more crazy the guy himself

Who do you ship with Aran? And why? WARNING: ships with minors are NOT allowed as Aran is a 23 years old (before someone made me noticed, I accidentally wrote 25 yrs)

don flamenco i just see them as having a rivals-to-lovers kind of thing tbh

I mainly ship Joe/Aran, but I also like him with Narcis Prince. Other ships with him I don't exactly mind, but aren't my thing.

narcis, i just ended up thinking the idea is funny, both are assholes, narcis would find it funny to see who arans pulls pranks to, i want a man for aran who is just as mean as he is (almost)

I ship Aran Ryan with Glass Joe & will not apologize for it. I'm an absolute sucker for opposites attract type ships.

Hondo

Soda Popinski: seeing him as a giant, bubbly, gentle (outside the ring) Russian man who hasn't dated anyone, with Aran as a feral and insane Irish man who's dated many in the past is a good relationship. Headcannon that Soda had a crush on him before making a move

Narcis.

Aran Ryan/Glass Joe and Aran Ryan/Don Flamenco or even Aran/Joe/Don

Yes, I ship him Narciss. (Also isn't Aran 23?)

Don Flamenco. IDC if they don’t talk to each other in the game, these two are cute with each and it’s pretty much why I like shipping this.

Wait he's 25?? I thought he was 23??

Personally I don’t ship him with anyone ✋

im not big on shipping but narcis x aran is pretty funny in concept !! just the idea of two (id imagine) rivals who are eventually shocked to find out they like eachother is also Good. bonus points if neither of them know how to go about expressing love.

Aradon. Aradon all the way. Because I'm very normal about Don and Aran's dynamic.

Piston Hondo. I feel like they've got an opposites attract kinda deal that mutually benefits them. Hondo benefits Aran by keeping his violent behavior at bay and helping him explore healthier ways of getting out his frustration. Aran benefits Hondo by getting him to loosen up when he's not actively working and making sure he's not overexerting himself in his rigorous training.

Don bc the dynamic is interesting and Joe bc the dynamic is funny to me💀

Don Flamenco

don! (unrelated but i cant believe that guy is balding at 23)

LGBTQ+ headcanons

pansexual cis man (he/him)

Trans man and bisexual, my mans is NOT cis

he doesnt use labels, he just shrugs if anyone asks or says "im aran"

Either Bisexual or Pansexual with no real leanings & Cis, but couldn't really give a shit what pronouns you call him.

bisexual and SOMETIMES uses they/them pronouns. but only when he feels like sludge (in a good way)

Pansexual

Bi as hell

Aran is Bisexual/Pansexual, and doesn’t really mind any pronouns used as long as they are respectful. Open to poly relationships.

Pansexual and genderqueer AF

Guy’s an angry bisexual who may or may not show his bi feelings to others (usually the ones he adores)

None

Probably straight or questioning aroace

nonbinary in a ''a boy but not really'' way

He's bi, he told me himself.

I like the idea of him being pan.

Pan, any hole's a goal for Aran

he's trans & somewhere in the bi/pan spectrum

hes pan and transmasc to me <3

What kind of pet does he have (if any)?

a black cat named lucky! she’s his pride and joy.

A border collie/Australian Shepard mix named cu chulainn

i havent thought about that yet, but in my ship narcis might gets a cat and aran has slap fights with it

He's got a scruffy old orange cat who he loves dearly- Baby is like 12 years old & he absolutely cherishes them.

dog

None

23 rats

Aran loves ferrets, and could break his entire bank just carrying for them. He spends four hours each day playing with them and making sure they get exercise. He once screamed at a woman who watched them while he was away in the USA who fed them nothing but pellets to one of them, they were fine after. (Aran owns four, two boys two girls. He keeps them in separate cages to prevent a surprise business popping up.) He would die for them.

Yes, a puppy named "Empanada"

He’d probably have a German Shepherd and a Kerry Blue Terrier

I don't know, I don't think he's a type of guy to have a pet for a long time

He’d definitely have a pet rat, probably named it something like poison or something to make it seem dangerous

i can see him as a dog person, especially very active dogs that need a ton of long walks. it helps him unwind. Also hed want a smart dog as well that he can teach to annoy people with. why? bc hes aran ryan.

So first off, I have no proofs but no doubts that Aran is a dog person. I love someone's headcanon of him having an Irish Wolfhound? I think? way too much. These puppers are huge, straight up Aran's alley imo. But I also adore the idea of him having a little pet rat, that only the closest of people and relatives know about.

RATS! He has 3 and he takes very good care of them.

He's got an old ass dog he's had since childhood that just lays around like a lazy sack of flour, but not because of age, the dog was just always like that. Its also probably a medium or smaller breed

no actual pets, but he has a soft spot for any strays he passes by

a black cat! (ironic, considering his whole luck schtick)

Why is Aran associated with luck symbolism?

i honestly don’t know, it’s just kind of a thing ig

Partially because of Irish stereotypes but mostly because he genuinely surrounds himself with such symbols out of paranoia. He cannot leave his home without wearing at least one object he considers 'lucky' to some degree.

ireland LMAO

Irony. He honesty considers himself extremely unlucky, but what's better for recognition than an Irish Man with a shamrock?

he's an overall lucky person. he steps out into the rain and either doesn't get wet or looks good afterwards

Idk, cause he's irish.

Irish

Aran keeps luck close to help himself motivate. He loves using both good and bad luck charms to his favor. (He’ll keep clovers in his locker and try to give the other boxers bad luck by breaking mirrors, placing ladders, etc. Not black cats though, as he knows that’s a myth.)

Cause it's a miracle he hasn't been banned from they WVBA yet

Guy thinks it’s a good idea to have luck on his side so that he could win many boxing fights

Somebody or some mythical creature decided to put a both curse and a blessing on him

Uhh I don’t rlly know I think it’s about since he’s Irish and they have 4 leaf clovers and the lucky number seven????

luck of irish, of course! also the fact its a miracle he hasnt been suspended yet from boxing

I like to think it's because he's always been this lucky bastard- he's a huge bastard, but he also always had this immense luck on his side for as long as he lived for some weird reason.

He's bad luck if you piss him off, but good luck if you befriend him :)

Teehee four leaf clover!! Haha irish!!!

i'd say just because he's irish. wish it could be deeper but idk

irish stereotype.....

Why did Aran decide to join the WVBA?

tbh i haven’t figured that part out for him yet-

Because they pay well and he finds the work interesting compared to other boxing leagues.

he needs to let that energy out somewhere, he can actually box and does exercise but ended up wanting more and has no patience ya know

It was a childhood dream of his to become a boxer.

"Yer' meanin to tell me, i can get paid for beatin' guys in alleyways? 'Ell yeah, where can i sign up!?"

Wanted to leave his country, away from his baf past and parents. Wanted to prove to everyone and his old folks.

Honestly? So he could have the thrill of the fight without getting into trouble.

Aran wanted to distance himself from Dublin and shoot his shot in the boxing world after developing both a skill and dependence on it to fight his bullies.

To beat the crap out of people

Mostly his skills in boxing and his persuasion to the WVBA, also he wants in because of the money

He joined as a clean and sane fighter, but as a years goes on he goes crazy and began to cheat just like the other fighters.

To just beat the shit out of everyone ig

i imagine he doesnt consider himself particularly fit for smth like an office job (despite his wide vocabulary) so he took up boxing to unwind but ended up having a real knack for it. mix that with his prankster, combative personality and youve got aran ryan. i also imagine hed join a boxing association that was more lenient towards the rules

See, I'm pretty sure it's all written in his SPO poster. Dude got so fed up with all the endless teasing that he just snapped at some point, this point being a mention of his mother.

He probably got into a fight somewhere in Dublin, won by a landslide, and a random WVBA rep approached him to offer the job.

Bc the WVBA PAYS him to fight! Aran Ryan LOVE a good brawl!

work, perhaps? I'd imagine he was scrappy & caused fights in the streets, i have a feeling he saw a flyer for the WBVA one day and just thought "yeah, why not"

fatherless behavior /j (he had always been interested in boxing! then super punch out happened so now hes the biggest cheater in the ring just for the adrenaline rush)

silly momentum: Did Aran punch an Italian DJ???

50%: What

it's a reference about an infamous Irish boxer (like Aran) who punched an Italian dj (I won't tell who is he bc I am scared to see him jumping in my house and hit me lol)

How is Aran's relationship with his family?

pretty good! though his father’s no longer around so uh that’s something.

Very, very good. He loves just about everyone in his family with his entire heart (Except his mother's mother and older sister) and hates being away from them for too long. He's close with his parents, grandma, and younger siblings and would hate to be without them in his life.

imo pretty good! but in my canon, his parents are divorced but he loves his mom very much, same for his sis

VERY CLOSE- He's got his mother & baby sister, & god help anyone who decides to fuck with either.

mostly good, he has a sister and a mother but his father ran off when he was a kid and is entirely ready to BEAT HIS ASS

He has a terrible relationship with his dad, an alcoholic and abuser. He was very tough and strict as well. Aran got his drinking, cheating and shoplifting from his dad, he started at 15. He was able to provide for the family and living. He's a but sour with his mom because she stayed with his father; but only for the money and being able to live in a house. If they divorced, she loses everything and won't be able to find a job. But she still loves her family. Aran loves his sister, Daisy, he would do anything for her not to be like himself or their dad. Would protect her. He couldn't bring Daisy along because she was in custody with the parents, and he couldn't win. The reason he snuck out with his old Irish friends and went to box in the WVBA was to get away from his parents. He really doesn't want to come back, and ESPECIALLY doesn't want to talk about them.

His sister and pa are close, but his mam is so distant that his sister filled in the maternal role for him.

Strained, but due to forces that were out of their control. He keeps close with them but things can be hard for them to get along.

Good...I guess..

Has an estranged relationship with his mother, in somewhat neutral terms with his father, and in genuine, loving terms and a healthy relationship with his sister

He loves them I think, despite the fact the games mentioned them being a bad example to his life

Has a close connection with his mammy and da and has a really good brother-sister bond with his sister

aran's has a mom and dad, and a lot of siblings. theyre VERY close but also very lenient, hence why aran's so out of control. aran could cause the end of the world and his parents would still say ''thats our boy!''. they also rib eachother constantly (its how they show affection), and aran does this to everyone around him, stranger or not. not necessarily very close to all his siblings, but would still take a bullet for them. in short: mess with his family, and youre DEAD.

Aran's a huge mama's boy; he *loves* his ma. I mean, if you think about it she is a part of his fame, she's one of the few people he's got left of his family. He also got a sis... with which they still fight about absolutely silly and not-worth-fighting-over things.

He loves his family! Except his dad that walked out, but he had an uncle who filled the spot instead.

Parents #suck or otherwise not in the picture so he's taking care of the sister on his own (barely🙄)

good with his mom & sister, but is pretty distant from his dad. feel like he had another father figure pre-WBVA but that's my own lil thing for him.

hes on good terms with his sister, doesnt talk to his mother and his dad is dead

Who are Aran's friends?

tiger, hondo (to some degree), soda, maybe a couple others that i’m forgetting tbh

The rest of the world circuit, without a doubt, alongside Glass Joe, and Disco Kid.

probably disco, SMM, heike, some bitches he met at a pub, he is part of a biker gang in my version btw, also narcis is not only his bf but also his BFF

Joe, Lil Mac, Bear Hugger, Soda, & Bull. Sometimes Doc & Sandman. (Sandman doesn't always wanna put up with him & Doc is only really friends by proxy as he wants to ensure Mac's safety.)

everyone in the wvba is his friend, despite him being pretty much a constant annoyance

He has some old 4 Irish folks back in the day, In WVBA: Great Tiger, Bald bull, SMM, Mr Sandman (sometimes if Aran doesn't get on his nerves)

The Minor circuit, Heike and Mac

I definitely feel he can be friends with Soda Pop, and has a bit of a friendship with Bear Hugger. Don and him have a big of a friendship, but it’s been strained due to Aran fighting to keep his place in the World Circuit. Glass Joe talks to him sometimes, but has a small fear of him.

Soda Popinski and Disco Kid

Bear Hugger, Soda Popinski, Dragon Chan, Heike Kagero, Disco Kid, Rick Bruiser (don’t ask), and Piston Hurricane

I'm not sure how his friends, but he's acquainted with Great Tiger, because they both hate Narcis Prince.

I think that he’s not close with a lot of people but maybe soda popinski and don? Aran and Dons relationship is definitely being frenimies with the whole finding out his hair is a toupee. And soda popinski and Aran just drink together all the time and just spill secrets to eachother

soda popinski, bc he can handle his... quirky personality. Plus, they go to clubs to dance together, along w/ disco kid. speaking of which, he surprisingly gets along pretty well with disco kid, they bond over their music tastes, even if theyre radically different. they also collab on music together sometimes, with aran writing the lyrics and disco doing the instrumentals. they have a lot of creative differences however, but despite that, they remain friends.

The only person I can think of that may have been more-or-less of a friend to Aran ever is Soda. They've been great drinking buddies since the dawn of time, and can be real with each other only when they're drunk as all hell. They don't want anything to do with each other when they're sober tho.

He, Glass Joe, and Don Flamenco are besties. They annoy the ever-living daylights out of each other, but they're hilarious when they hang out together.

Little Mac bc I read a fic where they became best buddies and it changed my brain chemistry, and Disco Kid bc I read a fic where the they were friends but it wasn't the main focus which also altered my brain chemistry

soda, per techicality as I said in the last pole but close enough. he also sometimes crashes with the rest of minor / major on occasions but "friends" would be a strong word

hondo, bear, disco, bull (maybe), don, tiger

Who are Aran's rivals?

macho (pure hatred tbh), don (former rival, now his lover LMAO)

Narcis prince and Don are semi-rivals, their relationships with him at least starting out as hostile. Snes Aran and him also don't get along and neither do him and Von Kaiser for a long time.

joe LMAO, he just bullies him, maybe kaiser, both are chickenshits, he also teases don sometimes but he just thinks its funny, he doesnt hate him

Hondo, Tiger (They mostly just tolerate eachother), Don, Macho Man, Bald Bull on occasion, Von Kaiser & Disco Kid (Only because they're both terrified of Aran & worry for Joe's safety.)

mostly Mac, (still sort of salty about the fight) and Joe (knows he can't fight back)

Don Flamico and Narcis Prince (his ex)

Don, Narcis and Macho (last one is one-sided on Macho’s part)

Narcis Prince is the biggest member of the “BOO ARAN” club. He didn’t like him much when Aran first got in, but he genuinely thinks he’s insane now. Don Flamenco’s there too, but wishes they could go back to being friends. Piston Hondo, Von Kaiser, Super Macho Man, Sandman. The lad has made a lot of enemies.

Literally everybody else

Little Mac (obviously), Von Kaiser, Great Tiger, Narcis Prince, Super Macho Man, Bald Bull, Piston Hondo, and Mr. Sandman

As stated above Narcis Prince, and probably the world Circuit and Don Flamenco

Definitely Joe. They’d definitely throw mean comments at eachother or snobby remarks (mostly from joe) there would be a bunch of back and forth (aran usually the one screaming at him) I just think it’s a funny dynamic of them always having something to fight about

super macho man, aran loves messing w/ the guy while seeing him as an equal competitor. great tiger and piston hondo specifically are his prankster rivals and on friendlier terms w/ him that the rest of the WVBA. a combative personality WILL lend you some enemies, surprisingly.

The entirety of WVBA, of course.

Everyone in the world circuit. Being way younger and not being around as long as they have, he's definitely not as close with them as they are with each other. They're not purposely trying to exclude him by any means, they just have trouble relating to him most of the time.

Narcis prince because hating the British is something that runs deep in Aran's blood. also him and Hondo HAVE to have beef their alignments clash so hard

i'd imagine he'd have some beef with super macho man, considering they've mostly been together in the world circuit i like to think aran likes to get under macho's nerves. i'd even say its a similar case with narcis prince, but thats a bit more.. playful? ik smm takes it personally

super macho man

Most iconic Aran made by a fan?

umm idk?

Not sure if you mean fanart or charatrization, but I do like the Aran by 'ask-the-ryans' on tumblr

any commissions people made for me, any art that contains my ship is super iconic

The interactive choose your own adventure Aran where he was just his head on two stick figure legs. Best post, glad I was apart of that & got to witness it in real time. Tumblr be wildin'

all of them are neat !!!!!!!

They give him nicknames, irish man, lucky rabbit, lucky lad, insane irish boxer, and from douchebags and hater, rat.

The one in Sportsmanship (read it on AO3)

I genuinely think that almost every user on Tumblr has a based Aran.

Idk?

IDK

Ask-the-ryans blog by pulpa-de-gorila!!

Definitely the ask.the.Ryan’s blog . Their actually so talented and the way they draw Aran is amazing 😮‼️❣️

that one drawing made by pulporilla of macho man jealously announcing that aran is on the sexypedia, w/ aran being bare ass naked saying ''the what''

PulpaGorilla's Aran. Definitely.

That rabies pride art. I don't know how those two things managed to cross paths, but someone put them together and it is GLORIOUS.

Idk

pulpa-de-gorila / ask-the-ryans on tumblr!!! i sometimes study their art when i draw aran cuz i swear their stuff could be official art its that good. & also shoutout for mossea on tumblr aswell for being so shaped

i genuinely forgot their name but there was this one aran fanart with vibrant colors and it was Very Shaped and i think about it frequently

Best video ever made about Aran Ryan?

literally all of them

I cannot choose one so you get 3 https://youtu.be/RZTRpgjrMqc https://youtu.be/QgErxUeAeAU https://youtu.be/LPeq5_WSaas

i dont know tbh

i don't really watch videos on aran but i remember the deepfried aran fight and thought that was funny

Throwing the ref and knocking him the fuck out.

The infractions one

youtube

Fully Baked video talking about why is his fave

The one where the guy lists his 20+ infractions

"Why Aran Ryan is my Favorite Punch-Out Fighter" by Fully Baked

The old YTP’s‼️🔛🔝

That one, by kazooyah: https://www.tumblr.com/kazooyah/185687150065/so-this-is-what-i-do-in-my-spare-time. I've stumbled upon this vid way back im 2021, and I still think about this video daily.

The bus video gets me every time.

youtube

bumble mcfumbles's punch-out cheaters video, it's iconic at this point

"whos the biggest cheater in the wvba?"

Put here your thoughts about Aran

my favourite rat bastard tbh, i stole his name and it’s now my third/fourth online name hehe

Aran is a horrible gremlin man who is also my baby boy who I'd die for.

he is very hot and cute and the only character that got me here

I picture Aran as this outwardly abrasive guy- He let's as many people in as he let's those who wrong him go unpunished, which is to say little to none. He's got his reasons for cheating & while he won't share those reasons, it's a hill he's more than willing to die on. If you ever managed to get past the massive amount of walls he's put up, you'd find he's actually a very caring, creative, & intelligent person.

the spoinky woinky!!!!!!

Feral rat man.

silly :3 also what is that hairstyle bro

cheeseburgers. cheeseburgers everywhere. All jokes aside, one of the most interesting boxers in Punch Out. Him or Sandman should be in Smash Bros.

The half-rat half-irish cheating bastard that I love

Guy has so much personality to him. If a new Punch Out games come, please have Aran back, I’d die if he isn’t.

I like him as a character, but if he was a person, I wouldn't go near him as he is bad example

Funny as fuck dude Aran Ryan is 🔛🔝‼️

definitely one of the most iconic characters in the game, and for a good reason. hes funny, his fight is very unique in regards to timing your punches, his voice acting is great, hes got a solid, sharp design, and i love seeing the insane capers he comes up with. a HUGE step up from the SNES version. also hes hot.

dude's so mecore fr

He's a riot, that's for sure.

I like that dude I want to watch him be beaten to a pulp i need to see him sobbing shaking begging for his life

they can't just put an almost normal person / insane cheater among magic users, the most yoked guys i've ever seen, and king hippo and expect me to NOT be my favorite. c'mon now

RAAAGFHGHGHRGGFGRRGRGHHGHARGHGEGRGRGRGERGRGGEGHHGGEHEGRGGRHRHRGRHRHHFFFFHGGRH (i need to grind him with a mortar and pestle)

Other headcanons

His flail is named Macha, named after an Irish goddess of war, death, and horses

he makes shit doodles of himself or his friends and his bf

Here's my headcanon for why Aran cheats- Aran immigrated to the US as a child & his father passed away shortly after his sister was born- He becomes the breadwinner when his mother gets sick & now in order to support his family & cover their medical bills, he cheats & places illegal bets on his own fights. He keeps this fact increadibly close to his chest & absolutely hates asking for help.

he likes to knit :)

He graffitis everywhere in the WVBA, either paint brush or marker. Ref, janitors and some boxers are tired of this shit. He also pranks most of the boxers in the WVBA.

He can whistle and sing beautifuly.

Guy gets drunk after sipping like 5 shots of Guinness, He’s a dog person, Good Enough Cook, and Rage Quit when he losses at video games.

He can complete Pizza Tower if it was real in his universe (not as a game, but a real tower)

Definitely stole a shopping cart from somewhere once or twice while he was drunk

hes great a rhyming and uses it to annoy people. he is also disco kid's and soda's dancing buddy, they always KILL it on the dance floor. has made sea shanty diss tracks with disco kid. does everything to embarrass macho man in front of ladies and the press. loves drum and base music, as well as sea shanties. has begged every non-english boxer at some point to PLEAAASE teach him some new curse words.

Now, I don't have any miscellaneous headcanons, I just wanted to say thanks to the Mod and anons for an awesome survey here, hope that's okay-

I've been thinking about him actively seeking therapy. Not for his insanity (God forbid we fix that part) but for things he keeps better under wraps (anxiety, depression, self-image, etc.

Second he gets home the pants come off, you can SEE every time he left the house the past week bc he didn't pick up them drawers after he dropped them. Dude HAS to have something to watch while he eats, food ritual is he's always sat on the couch, paper plate of food he has to hold otherwise his old ass dog tries to steal a bite, his own ground gripper dawgs out on the narsty carpet, TV playing trash reality shows way too loud, either shirtless or pantless, usually drinking pop with whatever he's eating. OH WAIT YEAH ALSO Aran's the type of guy to watch trash reality TV bc watching any dumb confrontations either verbal or physical is very fun and funny for him🤪

miiight of said this in the last survey but i fully believe that aran, although born in ireland, currently resides somewhere in new jersey

one time his friends in the wvba held a suprise birthday party for him and he tried SO hard not to cry (and failed lol)

#aran ryan #punch out #survey #the second part will be published stay tunedddd

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wandaluvstacos · 2 years ago

Text

THE ONLY SECONDS THAT MATTER

CHAPTER NINE IS UP!

Genre: Contemporary Romance Rating: 18+

Includes: Extensive horse nerdery + cowboys, mxm romance (1 trans + 1 cis), some discussion child abuse, some instances of trans/homophobia (it is rural Oklahoma, y'all), depression, occasional sex scene (but it’s a slow burn for sure)

Victor Ortiz-Bennett had some reservations about moving to Oklahoma, but his late aunt willed him a 70-acre horse farm, and he decides to fulfill his dream of running and operating his own training facility. Victor’s been around the reining horse show circuit for a while, and he’s ready to settle down, travel less, and spend more time with the horses he loves and away from the people he can do without. That is, until he picks up a horse at an auction with a bucking problem he can’t fix, and he has to take her to the one guy who can ride anything– Johnny Stearns, a retired professional rodeo rider.

Johnny Stearns is loud, chatty, eccentric, and fears nothing, exactly Victor’s opposite. However, Victor finds himself sinking into an odd friendship with this new foul-mouthed cowboy without a filter, diving deeper into the mess that is Johnny’s life until there’s no way to extract himself from it. Johnny may talk a tough game, but there’s more to him than he’ll let most people see. Victor knows getting in too deep will mean a rough ride, but if there’s anything Johnny’s taught him, it’s how to stay in the saddle.

Excerpt:

“I ain’t no stranger to heartbreak,” Johnny said, sipping at his beer. “Lord in heaven, the wringer Daisy put me through… ain’t no one in the world deserve that kind of hurt.”

“You ever think of marrying her?” Victor asked.

“Daisy? I thought about it. I was a wild child for a while, and I’ll admit I sampled as many ladies as I could handle when I was in my prime. But life will kick the piss outtaya, and when you’re broken and bleeding in the dirt—after some damn big horse puts you there—you start to question things. I was thinkin’ of askin’ her, but then I found out she cheated on me so then that idea fizzled out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“That woman turned me into the world’s biggest got-damn fuckin’ idiot. I’d have rather gotten kicked in the head again than go through what she put me through. That’s how women are, right? You give ‘em your heart and they’ll play with it like a fuckin’ football.”

“I’d say men can do that, too.”

“I ain’t ever put a woman through what Daisy put me through.”

“Plenty of men have.”

“Well, shit, I know that. Gone through my whole life worried I’d be like my daddy. My mama was a real angel; ain’t no one else who coulda stayed with him as long as she did.” Johnny paused to take a giant swig from the beer he’d been given. “Listen. I ain’t any good at fixin’ what a woman broke, but I don’t think you’ll have any problem with the ladies around here. The horse business is filled with women. Ain’t nothin’ a country woman loves more than a cowboy, and that’s speakin’ from experience. I ain’t no George Clooney but strap me on the back of a crazy horse and suddenly I’m Don fuckin’ Juan.”

None of this talk was comforting to Victor, but he felt like he should reward Johnny for trying, especially since most men were emotionally constipated and wouldn’t have even bothered. “Thanks, man. I’ll keep that in mind.”

#The Only Seconds that Matter #update #patreon #excerpt #original fiction #contemporary romance #my writing

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duskamethyst · 4 years ago

Text

broken reverie.

a/n: he’s not wearing glasses in this one.

word count: 3.9k

genre: smut, nsfw, college AU

warnings: taboo rs, slapping, spanking, choking, face fucking, brat taming (kind of), slight degradation, creampie, age gap (nanami reaching 40)

pairing: professor!nanami x f!reader

summary: professor nanami calls you to his office to ‘talk’ about your terrible performance in his class.

maybe you went too far.

or else you wouldn’t have ended up in his office.

but is this the outcome you coveted? yes.

the door creaks behind you before it closes again as you sit and wait in front of the big wooden desk. you were kind of excited when he told you to come and see him at his office earlier but now you’re having a whirlwind of emotions making your stomach churn and you don’t dare to look around to face him– even though he’s going to be sitting in front of you in a moment.

his shoes clack against the floor as he strides and sits on his chair. the air in the room feels dense when the male doesn’t say anything; as if you’re not in his presence to begin with.

he looks exasperated. a long, deep breath is emitted through his nostrils as he loosens up his tie from the collar. you only gawk at him in awe as he does so, but quickly snap out when he finally shifts his gaze at you.

“so, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he finally breaks the silence. the deep, husky tone of his voice fills your ear and you hope he doesn’t notice your thighs press against each other almost immediately.

“tell you.. what?” you mentally slap yourself. you’re clearly aware of what he’s insinuating but you’re suddenly lost for words. there’s a huge difference between seeing him in class and being alone together with him. it’s even more nerve wrecking than you imagined and oh god, is his ac broken? because it suddenly feels hot.

nanami raises a brow, evidently unamused. “i had the courtesy to make time for you when i should be having brunch now so i don’t appreciate you playing coy.”

you gulp audibly, “i’m sorry, sir.”

“if it’s not clear to you yet, i’m talking about your grades.” he opens the drawer under his desk and pulls out a pile of paper before slamming it in front of you. you blink in surprise and flip through the pages, though you know you don’t need to see it when you already know what lies on them. there are a lot of red circles on the papers, namely yours, with huge unpleasant numbers on the corner ranging from 12% to 25%.

then he takes out another file which you realize as your student record throughout your semester and the subjects you currently take.

“i find it odd that you scored well for your other courses.” he skims through the pages. “you certainly didn’t cheat, i can tell.”

“no, of course not.”

“then, what’s the problem here?” his tired eyes bore into you as he waits for you to answer or come up with whatever excuse.

“well, i–”

“you’re doing it on purpose.” he snaps.

it’s as if time comes to a stop. your cheeks heat up with humiliation and you can’t bring yourself to continue to look at him in the eyes. although you’re aware that your silence means compliance, you’re still jumbling up words in your head to deny his assumption.

“are you going to tell me i’m wrong?”

“yes– i-i mean–” you stammer.

“then enlighten me.” he glances at the branded watch donned on his left wrist. “we have time.”

you shake your head, “i have another class soon.”

“skip it.” he quickly retorts. “i’m sure you have no problems with that. your grades are doing well for that one, but certainly not mine.”

sweat starts to form on your palms as you look down on your thighs, purposely avoiding his eyes that hold nothing but so much intensity. you’re weighing between two options; to keep on bluffing or come clean. you don’t think that nanami would let you get off the hook if you keep on lying and you’d definitely be bombarded with more questions, yet the outcome of the latter would be so embarrassing and you don’t know if you can live it down for the rest of the semester.

you’ve fantasized about being alone with him but.. not particularly this way.

gathering courage and taking a deep breath, you decide it’s best to just tell him the truth.

“you’re right,” you feel your ears burning, hands clammy. “i purposely failed your class.”

lifting up your head, you see the male grinning lopsidedly in his seat. maybe he’s pleased that you’re not wasting his time anymore, you’re not sure, he’s not easy to read.

“wasn’t that easy?” he folds his arms in front of his chest. “i have my own speculation but i wanna hear why you did it.”

“um,” you look down to your hands again, also half wondering what kind of bold assumption he has in mind. “i was dared by my friend.”

“wrong,” he scoffs. “and look at me while you’re talking.”

you sigh defeatedly and nervously fix your gaze. if you’ve learned one thing now, it’s that your professor doesn’t have tolerance for bullshit and he knows one when he hears one.

“i-i did it for.. attention.”

“my attention?” he emphasizes, maintaining his stoic persona to mask his amusement of finding out that his speculation turns out to be indeed true.

you purse your lips in a thin line, nodding your head quietly. nanami remains to stare at you as he ponders in silence. you can hear your heart beating rapidly in your ears and you want to break eye contact so badly but you’re certain it wouldn’t be wise.

“all that, just for a crumb of my attention?” he spits with a hint of venom in his voice. “are you happy with what you did?”

well, you’ve imagined him punishing you on his desk, fuck you raw or spank you with his belt until your ass turns red– not some serious interrogation.

“no, sir.”

nanami props his elbows on the table, hands clasped under his chin to keep his head up. the air around him becomes even more threatening but it somehow manages you to feel even more aroused, making your toes curl in your shoes. you definitely need to get out soon.

“you know, if i have even one student failing my class, i could get into trouble and be questioned for my performance.” he starts. “to have you doing that for your own selfish incentive is unacceptable, don’t you think?”

“i’m sorry.” you mumble with meek.

“besides that, you might have to retake this course again for your next semester and it’ll waste your time– or..?”

you stay silent to let him continue.

“or you were intending to be in my class again so you can see me?”

“y-yes.” you bashfully admit after one silent moment, knowing that lying will take you nowhere. “i’m sorry, sir.”

nanami chuckles, finding your naivety to be rather entertaining. never has he ever met a student like you, outwardly expressing their interest in him by failing their paper. he’s not too sure what you’re trying to get out of him but maybe he can put one and one together. it’s pretty common that younger women have an attraction to older men like him and your classmates are.. well, not exactly the best looking either.

“are you?” he smirks cynically. “do you have any idea how many students i have to monitor? how tiring my job can be?”

“yes. it was inconsiderate of me. i’m sor–”

“show me.” nanami cuts you off and leans back on his chair. maybe he can push you a little bit, he thinks. you owe him this anyway.

you blink, perplexed. “what?”

“you kept saying sorry.” he undoes two of the buttons on his blue dress shirt and spreads his legs apart. “talk is cheap. show me.”

you do a double take as he taps his thigh and waits for you to come over. you have the faintest idea of what he’s implying but your body freezes and your brain short-circuits as if paralyzed.

“you chose to lie again? you’re not really sorry, are you?”

“no, no! that’s not it. i just..”

an ongoing battle takes place in your mind– sure that this is a part of your deepest, darkest fantasy yet you’re just baffled over how quick nanami catches on to it. now that your debaucherous dream has become a vivid reality, you don’t know which is the right step to take.

“but if not now, when?” a soft voice in your head whispers. if desire could embody a voice, you think this is it. gentle, yet seductive as if it attempts to give you a push to pluck and have a taste of the forbidden fruit.

“how much longer do you have to touch yourself to the thoughts of your professor before you go to bed?”

“although this could be a one time thing, at least you’d know how it feels like.”

you slowly get up from your seat and make your way towards him. nanami’s eyes trail up at you, down to the floor then back up at you; gesturing you to get on your knees.

you settle between his thick thighs and look up at him timidly through your lashes before you bring your hands to undo his belt.

“no hands.” he quickly demands.

you lick your lips as you figure the structure of the belt and how you’re going to take it off without the aid of your hands. the taste of cold metal and leather instantly invades your palate as you feebly use your teeth to tug the front loop of his belt. your head shifts awkwardly side to side until you finally get to catch the buckle between your teeth, pulling it hard before the belt soon unfastens.

nanami only observes you indifferently from above, yet the large tent in front of you doesn’t conceal the excitement he currently possesses.

you take a deep breath before you continue on succeeding your quest. you twist your neck as you find and tug on the fabric loop that holds the button.

“i know you’re a smart girl.” he praises as he rests his hand on top of your head while you struggle to lift up the zipper with your tongue and grasp it between your teeth. the simple praise inflates your confidence and you become more eager to complete your task so you can claim your awaiting prize.

with valiantness, you finally lock eyes with him as you pull down his zipper completely to reveal the huge bulge pressing against the fabric of his briefs and the tip slightly poking out from the top.

“hm? you still have to take it out, no?” he smirks as he notices you gape at the outline of his cock.

you quickly pull yourself together and lean back up to the stretchy band on his waist. he hisses when he feels your tongue purposely graze against the flushed tip before you pull down the briefs by force to reveal the one thing you’ve been desiring for so long.

you press your thighs together as a dull ache forms in your core from the sight of his thick cock standing proudly in front of you. it’s nothing like you’ve ever imagined– it’s better and you’ve finally found it worth going through all that trouble of failing his class (and using your mouth to take off his pants).

“this is what you want, isn’t it?” he sneers, titling up your chin with his fingers, brushing your lips with his thumb and pulling the bottom lip apart so he can see a row of teeth.

“y-yes, sir.” you gulp and breathe as you wait for his next command.

nanami’s lips tug into a conceited smirk, “suck.”

leaning down your head to the base, you flatten your tongue underneath the shaft and slowly drag upwards in favor of reveling the veins on his hard cock. nanami lets out a sigh of content when he feels your tongue licking his tip and his hand tugs on your locks by reflex. you look at him as you wrap your lips around the tip, slobbering the tip with your saliva and his precum.

“fuck.” he curses under his breath and his head falls back when the warmth of your mouth finally engulfs his throbbing cock as you take most of the length inside your mouth.

you hollow your cheeks together, head bobbing up and down as you struggle to take more of his cock that you nearly choke whenever the tip hits the back of your throat, but the hand on top of your head grabs a fistful of your hair and he pushes your head down to sink all his length inside your mouth deeper. when you want to pull away, he only holds you in place and remains his cock down your throat.

“through your nose.” he mutters. tears start to well in your eyes while your saliva just trickles down to his balls as he screws his eyes shut and relishes in the pleasure that washes throughout his body. “i needed this so bad, you know?”

your whines only give him more stimulation and his hips jerk in response, “just wouldn’t think that a student– fuck– out of all people would choke on my dick.” he lets out a sardonic chuckle as if something just crossed his mind. “it’s wrong, but that’s what makes it feel so good, isn’t it?”

nanami keeps you in the position as he ruts his hips slowly into your throat. his eyes are closed in concentration and his lips part slightly in fast and short pants. you work on your gag reflex as you let him fuck your mouth, enduring the sharp sting on your scalp when he tugs your hair harder– at least you know you’re making him feel good.

“if i cum in your mouth, you’d gladly swallow, won’t you?”

you can feel his cock twitching when you let out a choke of assent from your throat but you splutter as soon as nanami abruptly pulls away his cock because of a sudden knock on the door that startles the both of you.

“get under the desk.” he urges and you quickly crawl to hide while he coughs and inches closer to his desk. “come in.”

you hear the door open followed by echoes of footsteps before it comes to a halt in front of his desk.

“didn’t i tell you to contact me before seeing me?” his voice is laced with irritation yet collected as he speaks. you can imagine the agitated look on his face, thinking it would be only natural for anyone to assume that he’s already having a bad day. and to them, interrupting the peak of his orgasm is most definitely not it.

without a second thought, you take back his dick inside your mouth. a spur of triumph swells in your chest when you feel his body jolts in surprise. you think it’s only fair since he has choked you with his cock and what perfect timing to carry out your petty vengeance when the man is busy advising his student.

however, nanami shifts on his seat to give you more access to take more length of his cock. he tries to stay composed as he feels your tongue gliding up and down his shaft but once the wet muscle prods against the slit, he emits an oddly sharp exhale. you can hear him almost stammering as he speaks and the way his tone changes to conceal the squelching sounds you elicit from underneath the table as you please his cock with zeal.

“so, i want you to fix the mistake and hmm..,” his hands ball into fists on the table as he takes a deep breath. “show me in class tomorrow.”

“sure. uh, are you okay, sir?” you hear the voice say. “you don’t look well.”

his eye twitches when your tongue wraps around his balls, taking one inside your mouth to suck harshly.

“yeah, fine.” he clears his throat. “thanks for asking.”

nanami only watches as his student turns to walk towards the door until the door closes behind him. once he’s sure that the student has left the door, he finally leans back on his chair in relief.

“fuck.” he groans, glancing down at you as you look up at him innocently with doe eyes and your swollen lips wrapped prettily around his balls. yet, he looks dissatisfied more than anything.

nanami grabs your arm and drags you out from under his desk until you’re on your feet, “i never took you as a fucking brat.” he lifts up your skirt and bites back a groan once he sees the damp patch on your panties. “did you touch yourself?”

you hum a ‘mhm’, feigning guiltlessness as he grazes his fingers on your inner thighs.

“you’re just asking for me to touch you here, hm?” shivers run up your spine when his thumb ghosts over your wet slit and up to your clit.

“y-yes.” your breath hitches.

“begging for me to push your head on the table and ram my cock inside you?” he muses, pressing on your clit as he watches you squirm. “is that what you want?”

“please–” you roll your hips slightly to soothe the ache on his thumb but a hand comes down harshly on your ass, gesturing for you to stop in a fierce manner.

nanami chuckles mockingly, “well, that’s what exactly you’re not going to get.”

a whine elicits from your lips when he draws back his hands to his thighs and you glance at his dick; still throbbing and leaking precum from the florid tip. well, at least he hasn’t put it back inside his pants, so you still have a chance.

“come on. you haven’t shown me how much you’re sorry.”

with your inhibitions already flew out of the window, you stand in between his thighs, hoist the skirt to your waist and tug your panties to the side before squatting down to smear your slick on his dick. sparks of arousal swim through you as you grind your clit on the tip before you sink down, gasping as his thick cock stretches your cunt and down until you’re filled to the brim.

you glance at the male expectantly, waiting for him to move but he raises a questioning brow at you, “if you want something, work for it.”

not exactly what you sought for, but it should suffice. you begin to gyrate your hips slowly, adjusting to his size before you can pick up the pace. you fight the urge to hold onto him for leverage, in fear he wouldn’t appreciate the crumple on his expensive dress shirt later.

as you become more delirious, you start to hump his cock vigorously, whining like a bitch in heat as you feel every vein and ridges on his cock brushing deliciously against your walls. nanami lifts the hem of your shirt and brings it up to your mouth and you quickly catch it between your teeth.

“the door isn’t locked, you know.” he muses, staring at your bouncing tits with half lidded eyes; mesmerized and thick with lust. “what’s going to happen if someone comes in and sees you bouncing on her professor’s cock like a little whore?”

a low, guttural sound rips from his throat when he feels your walls clenching around him in response.

“you’d like that, don’t you?” he smirks, tugging your bra down slightly and brushes his thumb against the erected nipple, making you mewl through the fabric in your mouth.

“you know you’re not supposed to do this but,” he brings up his thumb to caress your cheek. “you’re just so eager to please me, aren’t you?”

you sniffle in response, hands clutching on his solid thighs as you melt into his soft gaze before it’s gone in an instant.

“but i don’t like brats.” he sneers, drawing his hand away to slap your breast. “i don’t like people making my job harder. are you a brat?”

you shake your head, he slaps again.

“you act like one. stop lying.”

nanami tugs down the shirt from your mouth, a part of the fabric already drenched with your drool. his large hand circles around your throat while the other grips your hip firmly to roll your hip even faster on his dick.

“oh– feels good–!” you moan wantonly, eyes rolling back as you let him control your body and assert his dominance over you.

“fuck it does.” he presses your throat tighter on the sides, restricting air from entering your lungs but your walls squeeze harder in retaliation.

“bratty little bitch. clamping down on me like that.” he grits out and slaps across your face. what seems to be a rather harsh form of treatment, the pleasure filled sting and the lack of oxygen only fuel your arousal that you don’t even notice the way you hump on his cock has become more rapturous.

“getting off to this?” nanami slaps your other cheek before he lets go of his grip around your neck and you’re finally able to breathe air again. yet, he doesn’t spare you time to gather yourself before he promptly lifts up your hips and starts to pound inside your cunt relentlessly.

the position causes you to tip to the front and you immediately hold on to him; face burying on the crook of his neck while his cologne fills your senses and sends you into a state of frenzy.

“you like me using your tight cunt like that?” nanami grabs your ass for leverage, the angle allows him to fuck you so deep that you’re able to feel his cockhead kissing your cervix with each thrust.

“y-yes–!” you cry, the pressure in your stomach building up as you inch closer to an orgasm.

“like it when i use you to take out my frustrations?” he spanks the meaty flesh; walls clenching tighter on his fat cock and more slick dripping down his balls. “you just want to be my little cocksleeve, don’t you?”

“yesyesyes– please–!” your body starts to tremble above him. “w-wanna cum–”

“then fucking cum.” nanami rams into your cunny faster, abusing the spongy walls until the pressure snaps and tips you over the edge. you moan breathlessly into his neck, while your pussy gushes and creams around his cock.

“that’s a good girl,” he fucks you through your high, grunting and panting as he pushes through the pulsing walls in order to chase his high. “and good girls get rewarded, right?”

you hum in agreement, still dazed and swimming in ecstasy as you gawk at him with heavy lidded eyes; the sweat glistening his forehead and sharp eyes focusing on where your bodies join.

“then you’re gonna get some huge load in this pretty pussy.” his pace begins to stutter, nails digging deeper into your skin before his cock twitches and his hips freeze as he paints your insides white with cum.

both exhausted bodies rest against each other, chests heaving as you and nanami take time to regain composure and come down from your highs. he lifts you up slightly to take out his spent cock and he tugs back your panties in place, not minding the cum that dribbles from your quivering hole.

your legs tremble once you get off of him that you have to force yourself to find your footing as you fix your skirt while the older male pulls back his pants in place.

“do your best for your next papers, no more of that bullshit.” he fastens his buttons and straightens his tie before raising his hands to brush against his sleek, light brown hair that’s mixed with a few strands of grey. “but if you have any problems, just come and see me in my office.”

nanami falls quiet for a brief second to contemplate and you straighten your back when you once again meet his icy gaze, “after hours.”

enjoyed this piece? wanna buy me coffee? :)

#nanami kento #kento nanami #nanami #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #nanami fanfic #jjk fanfic #r; writes #tw; age gap

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duckieland7 · 3 years ago

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Rant number one

Albus Dumbledore is a manipulative, cheating bastard. He not only left harry to be abused by his relatives (which he could have handled better, for fucks sake) but he managed to create an army of soldiers with 17 year olds, sometimes 16 and even 15. In the marauders era I´m certain that he chose the marauders as his to be part of the order at some point between their 5th year to their 7th year. We know Sirius ran away in 1975 to the Potters and honestly, I think as a fandom we decided that the Blacks were way more abusive than they were portraited as, even if mentioned at all. Am I the only one curious as fuck to know if Bellatrix was as insane before Azkaban, if it rooted in what her family could have done to her to indoctrinate her? Nobody can discuss that Bellatrix was one hell of a dueler, there´s a reason besides her blood lust of why she was Voldemort´s second on command. She was insane, yes but she was also smart as fuck, there was no reason for her to live as long as she did without getting arrested before 1981 if she wasn’t clever.

A lot of people think Bellatrix should be in hufflepuff and it´s not that I exactly disagree, it´s just that I think being a hufflepuff is so much more than the loyalty mentioned in the books.

One of the things I´m ranting about here and why tf not, is the sorting. How does that damn hat works?? It just looks inside your soul and then is like “well, you are a ravenclaw” like honestly wtf. Every time a do a test it appears either Ravenclaw or SLytherin, depending on the questions so how does it exactly works? There is a lot more to each house than the stereotypes given by Rowling (who, I must say, can very much go and fuck herself, thank you) but the point is that, beyond the ships that may be the base of a fanfic, the resorting trope makes a lot of sense if you think about it.

I mean, you spend 7 years in a house that may become very well your friends for the rest of your life if you know how to work those friendships into becoming that, friendships. I don´t know if I´m the only one who thinks that a basic example of personalities and how a house may influence them are the Black brothers. Sirius was sorted in Gryffindor when he was eleven and I genuinely don´t think the hat was mistaken with him, I just think that he took his rebellious straw to a next level namely to get a reaction out of his parents while Regulus, who canonically is described by Sirius as “soft enough to believe them” was the perfect son, the preferred one. Also Said by Sirius.

Please tell me what you think but I really think Sirius wasn´t loud and brash since he was a kid. He wasn´t a “slytherin” and really, how could you know what house is a six year old gonna sort? Childhoods can and will change people. But anyway, I think being in Gryffindor didn´t necessarily meant he stopped talking with Regulus or left him behind that exact moment or changed his whole personality from night to day but I do think it changed how he view behaved. I don´t think he was the perfect heir but I think he was responsible enough to know that rebellion would just get him punishment (and please share what you think about the blacks being physically abusive to him, I don´t think they were extreme at the point of Crucios but they were more towards emotional and psychological abuse, in the Order of the Phoenix it is clear that although Sirius hated his parents when he ran away he also kind of found solace on Walburga´s bedroom and why Is that if she was such a bitch?) so, once sorted a lion, I think Sirius needed an outlet and he found It bullying slytherins, Severus Snape, to be specific (who in the marauders era could be redeemable enough but in the golden trio era was just plain abusive, and I´d like to get into that too in another post, maybe) Snape wasn´t a known name, he was a penniless halfblood with no status and Sirius, eventhough never became a death eater, was cruel but smart. A parallel to Bellatrix, if you will.

Sirius became rebellious and his outlet to his fear of rejection and the constant disappointment he was made by his parents (and that Is what I´m talking about when I say psychologically abusive) was Snape, he was portrayed as a bully who messed with the slytherins and while I do not think it was a lie, I don´t think he messed with other, more important slytherins. The pureblooded ones, the ones who came from an old family and had resources. Again, Sirius could be cruel, as proved by the prank (and that is a whole another matter) but he was smart. Gryffindor influenced him to look for freedom because it became a synonym to him of rebelliousness and therefore, of being different to the rest of his family, the death eathers and blood purists.

Now Regulus, I´ve read a lot of fanfiction so I´m biased, I totally accept it but I don´t think it really was easy for him when Sirius became loud, brash and started acting impulsive, specially if they grew up together and him knowing Sirius before Hogwarts and Gryffindor. He was a slytherin and please don´t come at me I don´t say it as something bad or anything but reading Harry Potter as a raverin was so fucking stressing. They were kids, yes and that makes it worse but there was so much more that could have been explored regarding Harry´s personality beyond trying to frame him into the reincarnation one James Potter.

Anyway, Regulus was a slytherin and one thing to notice throughout the series is that in war, a fight is a noble way to die. Which is pretty and all but really, not all react to it the same way. I think he didn´t want to die by being tortured or kidnapped by neither side so he died in his own way, which as a fellow snake, I can understand and respect but also see through. He indeed was the unspoken hero of slytherin but he also went to the cave knowing he was gonna die and nobody can convince me otherwise. He wasn´t and didn´t want to fight anymore if he even fought at all, he was just 18 when he died and that hits hard. Do I think he should have been a ravenclaw? Nah, absolutely no. I think it was a possibility for him but not his choice; Hence, slytherin. Being smart isn´t a synonym of ravenclaw, that´s a stereotype and if you look at it, Regulus retrieved the locket in a most slytherin way. I think ravenclaws and slytherins can be confused because of principles and morals in each one. Is the way of living what decided each one, not a sorting being an eleven year old kid.

I think Slytherin trained more profusely in matters of learning how to survive and cope at the same time, it trained in a way that even if you noticed it became useful to him later in life to learn and be quiet and honestly? Understandable. If I had a brother who liked to argue thinking if they didn´t they weren´t enough of a lion I would like to present myself as soft enough to believe in bulllshit and still keep my image with whoever necessary. Let´s debate this, the guy found out about horocruxes when he was probably 17 if a timeline is to be followed, with what I believe were nor enough meetings with one dark lord. Just Bellatrix fancy on him and random clues from Voldemort´s boasting. He was clever in a quiet way, I do not think he was the blood purist Sirius believed him to be but I am not saying he wasn´t prejudiced. He was indoctrinated at home and school, that is basically 24/7 and even then, he turned without anyone knowing. I believe he wanted to protect his family, Sirius included, when he went alone for the horcrux and it actually worked, which, woah.

IF you disccover a horcrux based on casual boasting and Bellatrix fan case, I refuse to believe he was stupid enough to believe in blood purism any more than he believed his parents were a justified case of parental love. Like, come on.

Back to my first point tho, I think sorting and leaving everyone 7 years in a house is really, really unhealthy for kids in development. Nobody is the same when they were eleven to when they are 14-15 which is why I think a resorting would have made sense in either the marauder or the golden trio era (tell me which house do you think they would be. Hermione is hufflepuff for me, Harry slytherin and Ron would have stayed in Gryffindor. Sirius would have sorted Gryffindor or hufflepuff, James canon Gryffindor, james fanon too but with the chance of hufflepuff, Remus Lupin I have a conflict of emotions regarding him but I´d say Ravenclaw, didn´t see Gryffindor anywhere tbh and Peter was a goddamn Gryffindor too, I´ll explain if you want me to?)

Just imagine the world of possibilities, please imagine the quality content.

Thank you for coming to my ted Talk :D

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erodasfishtacos · 4 years ago

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Three Minutes

Prompt: Harry slips up and it’s only right his wife serves him a little punishment.

Word Count: 3.2 k +

Warnings: Language, Sexual Content (sexting, dirty talk, public, subby!h)

AN: I’m excited to share this!! I’m pretty sure I’m going to do a part 2. Let me know if you’d like to see this! I’m dedicating this to @harrywritingsbyme because she’s an amazing writer and you need to read everything of hers! Requests open ☺️

Reblog if you can!

Harry was dreading his interview with Howard Stern. The guy was an obnoxious prick who had no filter and liked to put people on the spot - it’s what he’s doing right now.

You were off to the side, watching the interview next to Jeff. It was matter of time before Howard brought you up to pick and prod at your husband.

“So Harry, you’re married, yes?” Howard asks, typical sunglasses on and curly permed hair donned. His mouth a little to close to the microphone.

“Yeah, I am,” Harry smiles tightly, hands rubbing on this upper thighs. He spares a quick glance over to you.

“She’s here, right?” Howard looks over at you and winks, “Fucking gorgeous babe, huh?”

You roll your eyes at the interviewers remark and Harry’s isn’t pleased but nicely responds, “She’s amazing, way out of my league.”

Howard laughs, “Now I have to ask you, does she tour with you?”

Harry replies, “Yeah. For the most part, sometimes she’ll go off to visit family or friends for a bit.”

The interview smirks, “Does she get worried you’re going to fuck other people while she’s not there? I mean you have girls falling at your feet. It must be hard to avoid temptation.”

You blink owlishly, attempting to contain the offended scoff bubbling in your throat. Jeff snickers and you send him a elbow.

Your husbands face can’t hide his annoyance at the question, “Are you asking me if it’s hard not to cheat on my wife?”

“I mean you could have a line up of girls after every show willing to blow you. I couldn’t be satisfied going home to the same thing every night.”

The band is looking back and forth at each other - clearly uncomfortable. Mitch’s face completely blank - of course.

“Well, I mean - I think that kind of stuff like...people going crazy over you was exciting when I was a bit younger. But no, I mean I’m very much in love and also consider myself a monogamous person.”

“Man, I mean - some of the songs you write about her? Watermelon Sugar, that’s clearly about eating her out,” Howard laughs, the tune playing softly in the background.

Jeff nearly chokes on the water he’s drinking and you pat him hard on the back - as payback for making Harry do this interview.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had pussy so good I’d write about it,” the interview jokes crudely. The women interviewer tittering in the background at his antics.

Harry fumbles, “Uh-uhm, it’s not uh- necessarily about anything or any act like...in particular. Just about having a good time with the person you love.”

The female interviewer who stays mostly quite chirps in to break the tension, “Is it hard to be long-distance when she’s not on the road with you?”

“Not at all. Most of the time she’s with me but we’re lucky we have technology that helps us not feel so far away from each other.”

Howard smiles, “How do you not go crazy being without sex for long amounts of time?”

It’s odd how obsessed this guy is with sex. As well as painting Harry as some sex-crazed rockstar who can’t go a day without.

Harry then goes on to put his entire, big ass foot in his mouth. “Y‘know that’s uh-that’s what good about FaceTime and Snapchat.”

The interviewer grins like a predator at Harry’s admission. You’re face is bright fucking pink. You’re gonna murder him.

“Well you heard it here first, folks. The key to how Harry Styles - one of the greatest artist of his time- keeps a happy relationship with his wife while he’s on the road. Dick pics and FaceTime sex.”

Harry glances over at you, his face apologetic as he already knows he in trouble.

You’re not that embarrassed - it not like it’s a weird thing to do but you didn’t want him talking about it with a trashy talk show host.

The interview is almost over which is good because Harry’s about to lose his temper after he’s asked about his step-father’s passing and the stalker who was harassing you two.

During the interview however, you get a wonderful fucking idea as easy payback for Harry’s little slip up.

After Harry’s tossed his headset and microphone pack off with a little too much force to be unnoticeable - he’s sliding up beside you.

“Baby love,” He murmurs sheepishly into your cheek, nuzzling there for a moment, and breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“You did good, H,” You reply softly, landing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling back to brush his hair off his forehead.

“Y’not mad?” Harry asks warily, knowing he got nervous and gave a little too much information.

“No baby, not mad at all,” Your voice steady and believable. It was true - you weren’t mad, just a little annoyed.

He seems confused. He knows you like the back of his hand and usually, you get peeved when he says something in interviews you’d rather the word not know.

Like the one time he let it slip you had an affinity for hooking up in hotel pools after dark. Prat.

Harry multiple appearances that day and it ends in a dinner at a fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills with big wigs.

You were invited but declined, despite Harry’s pouting and whines for you to go. You were the only thing that made these work obligations go faster.

However, you had other plans and a little bit of revenge to play on your unsuspecting husband.

All in good fun - of course.

Harry sits down with a group of people from his label. They’re all dressed in tight suits and rolex watches.

Harry on the other hand is in a flowy button-up only halfway done and a tight pair is skinny jeans. Jeff is dressed pretty casually too.

They were talking about tour dates and had just received their appetizers when he gets the text from you. Your name in his phone as baby love.

Harry nearly chokes on his water when he opens the message to reveal an image of you nearly naked in your shared bed. You skin tone standing out against the baby blue comforter.

You have one of his vintage tees on as well as some creme boyshort panties. The shirt is lifted though, rumpled up by your collarbones to reveal your breasts.

Harry wants to drool over the picture but doesn’t want to risk anyone else seeing his wife in any state of undress. So he quickly responds.

Baby, I’m at dinner.

You reply with another picture. A hand tucked down your underwear, cupping your heat. He can see the outline of your fingers underneath the thin fabric.

Already have something you could eat.

Harry can already feel himself twitch in his jeans. Cut it the fuck out now

Another. Fucking. Picture. Comes through.

This time you’re completely stripped, tits visible with soft pink peaks, and a hand strategically covering your cunt.

Make me, H.

It clicks what game you’re playing. You rarely sent anything risqué when you where together because you had each other physically.

Harry curses under his breathe, locking his phone and pushing back his chair a little too fast - excusing himself to the loo.

As soon as he clicks the lock on the single-person restroom, he’s pressing on your contact information and you pick up on the very first ring.

“You bloody brat, I’m out at dinner,” Harry hisses at you, giving himself a rough squeeze through his tighten trousers.

All he hears back is a breathy moan. He’d know that sound anywhere - you’re touching yourself.

“What the fuck are you playin’ at?” Your husband demands, but the clipped edge in his tone tells you how much it’s affecting him.

“Just a little payback, babe...for spilling our dirty secrets,” you hum innocently, deciding to send him another picture.

It’s a simple photo without context some might not even understand. It’s just your hand but your fingers glistening with your arousal.

Harry’s hand is about to crush is phone into bits as his eyes roam the picture. He was nearly panting, already able to imagine the taste and smell.

He takes a deep breath before he threatens you, “if you don’t pull your desperate little self together right now- I’m not going anywhere near that needy cunt and I’ll make you spend all night choking on me.”

Instead of the typical, sad whimpers he expects to hear - he receives a patronizing, high-pitched giggle.

“That’s not how it’s going to work tonight, H,” you inform him in a matter-of-fact manner before continuing, “we’re playing by my rules.”

Your husband laughs in disbelief, echoing against the bleak bathroom walls, “and what those rules, sweetheart?”

“You’re going to go sit through your nice little dinner, rockstar. And I’m going to send you pictures, maybe some videos to watch to keep you entertained. If you don’t open them within three minutes each time and reply - you’re not coming tonight. The couch will have a blanket and pillow ready for you.”

If he was in charge, he’d laugh and remind you that you two have three lovely guest rooms he could choose from. But he doesn’t want to push it.

“Fuck,” Harry spits, having to cram his hand into his jeans to adjust himself so he doesn’t look like a pervert when he goes back out.

But he was so fucking game.

He’d do anything you wanted from him - no matter if he could embarrass himself in front of business partners or fans. He was besotted, whipped, whatever you wanted to call him.

“Are you going to be good for me, baby?” You coo tauntingly, from the other end of the line. Basking in his little huffs of air and the agitated lift in his voice.

“Yeah, m’gonna be good,” he murmurs gruffly, his demeanor had changed now that he wasn’t in charge any longer - always willing to let you be dominant when you wanted to be.

It wasn’t often - but when you did, Harry would fall into a nice, fuzzy headspace of compliance and submission. He always wanted to please and this amplified all of his desires.

“Best husband I could ask for, you know?” You reward, knowing that the games are just getting started and you wanted to make this last.

“I love you s’much,” Harry automatically returns, with deep devotion and honesty. His voice as sweet as maple syrup.

“Are you hard, H?”

He grips himself, like he’d just remember, “m’really fucking hard for you.”

“Snap an picture for me, pull yourself together, and then go back to your table - don’t forget the rules.”

“Yes ba-“

Then you end the call while he’s talking.

Harry’s a little shaky as he swipes onto his camera. He grips the thick outline of his cock, rings glinting in the dull lights, and takes a picture.

He hopes it’s good enough and quickly sends it before splashes some cold water on his face and thinking of anything but his naked wife laying at home in their bed - wet and horny.

Jeff gives him a side-eye when he sits back down, casually throwing a napkin over his lap because he can’t help the semi that refuses to go down all together.

“You alright?” His manager asks him, the others still in the throws of tour venues and vendors discussions.

Harry nods, lying easily “the missus couldn’t find her phone charger - thought I nipped it.”

“You do love to steal those,” his friends agrees before cutting off one of them men to suggest three days at Madison Square Garden instead of two.

Harry’s clutching his phone like a lifeline, anticipating the indicative text vibrations that let him know you’ve sent something.

However, despite how many times he checks, fifteen minutes pass and still nothing has sent from you. He almost starts to worry if you’re okay.

But just like the sneaky little thing you are, you wanted to give him enough time to calm down and relax before rilining him up again.

When it finally alerts him, he’s unlocking his phone and opening the message thread as fast as possible.

The picture makes his jaw almost drop on the fucking carpeted floor. You’re in one the large closets in your home- the one that holds all of his Gucci suits in particular.

There is a massive floor to ceiling mirror in this room that you’re standing in front of. You’ve slid on one of his custom silk Gucci button-ups that has styles embroidered on the breast pocket without doing doing up any of the buttons.

He’s an absolutely goner for you in anything that makes you look like his property - the large engagement ring and wedding band on your left ring-finger satiates that feeling quite well.

It takes he a moment before he realizes what else you’re wearing. Your fucking collar. It sat tight around your neck, the expensive leather biting into your skin.

Your one hand was holding the phone and the other had a hand teasing at one of your hardened nipples through the silk fabric of the shirt.

He keeps his phone in his lap with a dim light setting so nobody can risk a chance at seeing such explicits pictures of what’s his.

You look so good with my name on you, baby. Please, want to see you in just the collar, take off the shirt.

Harry fumbles along with the conversation, that’s revolving all around him, “Yeah, I loved Argentina. Definitely want to got there again.”

Buzz.

How’d you already forget I’m in charge? Maybe I’ll just go to bed if you’re not going to follow instructions.

As punishment - if you can really call it that - in the next image you don’t have the collar on any longer and you’ve done up a few buttons on the silk shirt.

Harry feels panicked at the thought of you stopping. He was in a nice, soft headspace clinging onto anything you were willing to give him - desperate to make you happy.

I’m sorry, baby. I’ll be good for you. You’re so fucking sexy. I can basically taste you on my tongue.

“Harry?” Jeff draws him out of his haze. He’s looking at him expectantly, eyebrow quirked, and a martini in his hand.

“What did you say?” Harry asks, eyes itching to dart back down to the screen of his mobile.

“Would you want Kacey to open for you again in North America?” Jeff repeats with annoyance.

“Oh, uh-yeah, that’d be great,” he tells them without really think about it.

He should be paying attention to this pretty important meeting but he can’t when he gets another alert.

The video is back in the bedroom, your delicate fingers sliding down your torso with the button-up pooled around your ribs.

Your hand slowly, at a near crawl- traces down with the camera until the manicured tips of your fingers are at your mound.

Harry’s stomach is tensing in excitement as he watches your fingers dip into the part in your slick, swollen folds.

He has to bite back a groan when the video cuts off and he reads the text below the attachment.

Was this the pussy you enjoyed eating so much you won a Grammy writing about? Was Howard right in his interview?

If Harry was in charge, he would have delivered a few resounding smacks to your arse for how cocky you were being - despite it being the absolute truth.

Did he write and win a Grammy based on a song about how much he loved eating his wife out? Sure fucking did.

Baby love. Yeah, wrote it about you. Write all my songs about how much I love you and your body. Everything is yours.

Harry is so good when he’s subby - is the thing.

Harry was a sappy sod anyways, always ready to tell you how much he loved you and thousand of other sweet things. This just amplified all of his warm, fuzzy emotions.

Send me a picture of your left hand

He hesitates for a moment, still nodding along to the ebb and flow of the business talk but having no actual idea what they’re talking about.

Harry places his large, wide hand flat on the table in front of him. He knew why you wanted his left hand - you were just as possessive as him.

You want to see his long, slim fingers that feel so good inside of you. You want to see the glimmer of his wedding band as well as the tattoo of your name on the outer curve of his hand.

He doesn’t think to turn off his flash. It ends up going off in the dimly lit restaurant and blinding the table, reflecting off the silver flatware.

He looks like a complete knob - taking a picture of his hand but also something weird Harry may do anyways and upload to his Instagram.

The men blink a few times and look at him with a confused expression. Jeff jabs him roughly in the side.

“Uh, snapchat streak,” he mumbles, tucking his phone back into his lap and sending it.

You were cutting it close, babe. 2 minutes, I don’t like waiting. But fuck, who’s name is that on your hand, who’s that ring for?

You, you baby. All of its for you, promise. I belong to you, only you for the rest of my life.

The response is quick.

But...you have girls falling at your feet, lining up to blow you.

A direct quote for the interview today. Brat - she knew how he hated when people assumed or talked like he had no self control or morals.

Only want your mouth, your cunt, your tits. So bloody gone for you, baby. Please send me another video.

He really shouldn’t be egging you on.

Your being greedy but you’ve been following the rules so I’ll allow it.

The video does not disappoint. You’re hand is nestled down between your thighs, pinching at your puffy, stimulated bud. Just the amount of pain you like. It’s a short clip but it has him wriggling in his seat.

He watches it again but before he can finish it - Jeff is snatching his phone out of his shaky hands and tucking it into his own pants pocket.

The manager’s obviously sick of the lack of focus and honestly, how disrespectful Harry’s being which is something he usual never is.

“Pay attention,” he whispers with a sharp, irritated tone before clapping Harry on the back to play off the scolding to the group.

Harry feels a knot form in his stomach as his phone sits stagnant in his friends pocket. His wife sitting, impatiently waiting for his response that she’s not going to get.

He watches his vintage wristwatch as fifteen minutes pass, he hears a few buzzes from his phone that go unattended.

Harry’s not fuzzy anymore - well not in a good way. He has anxiety bubbling in his tummy and his semi had finally disappeared from nerves of disappointing you.

He decides to engage in the conversation to keep his mind off of what is waiting for him at home. He craved to look at those images and videos again. To have it in real life.

It had been three hours since he responded. The people at the table insisting on dessert and alcoholic coffees despite Harry saying he was exhausted from a long day of promo.

At the end of dinner, Harry would love to lie and say he’s recovered from his shakiness but he hadn’t.

After shaking the hands of the record label men, he walks to his car with Jeff. He gets a nice talking to before his phone is being placed back into his hand and he’s sliding into his obnoxious vintage Ferrari.

He takes a deep breathe before he unlocks his phone. The buzzes he heard where not all from you. A few from Twitter, his mum, Niall. There was only one from you.

Game Over. You lose.

—

Thank you for reading💕🥺

#harry styles #harry styles fic rec #harry styles masterlist #harry styles writing #harrystylesfanfic #fanpic harry #fic rec #husband harry styles #Harry styles shut #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles prompt

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simpz-art-stash · 3 years ago

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Late beginnings

Summary: Mac goes out for a drink, and happens upon some advice he takes into consideration about his skewered relationship with Wukong. Before finally taking some action to mend the long burnt bridge. (Author’s note: I barely did any beta reading for this so if it’s worded strangely that’s just how I write without the normal filter on. I’m country so HOWDY) Next Page ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- The night was late, but he didn’t care, he might as well have been nocturnal with the way his whole life revolved around the whole stereotype of shadows and shit. He’d walked into a bar he’d passed through a few times before, donning his human disguise of course beforehand, and walked in without sparing anyone else a glance. Before planting his rear in one of the stools seated at the front bar, ordering a drink to get the night started. “I’m really looking forward to seeing that new Monkey King movie with the trailer they just released. You saw it too right?? The whole style of the film is on par with their most recent game- OH, you think they’re gonna make a game of it?? I bet you they wiiiill!~” Ugh, great, just what he’d come here to avoid.

Mac’s eyes glanced to the blabbermouth boasting about whatever new movie was being made about his ex, to see two girls residing a ways down near the other end of the bar a few seats away from him. Both looking to have had a fair night themselves already if any of the cups and plates hanging around their spot was anything to go by. “Probably. I hope it’s better than last game that came out on the Brick 360, the bugs in that thing were gross to deal with.” Their friend commented back. Before looking down at their phone and claiming that it was getting late and that they had to go. “Yeah I’ll see ya Monday!” The chick waved their friend off a lazy farewell after they’d paid their bill before going back to their drink, now taking less tedious sips as the mood seemed to smooth out from their conversation prior. “I see someone’s a pretty big fan of that ol’ man.” Macaque piped up from where he sat, earning the attention of the stranger he’d directed his comment towards. “The Monkey King yeah?” Sparks danced in the chick’s eyes at the recognition of the name, before the stranger perked up and beamed a smile back at him, “You betcha! I’m a total nerd for that legend.” ‘A legend, hah.’ “S’the whole reason I moved to China in the first place.” She jabbed a thumb at her chest, “All the way from America!” Mac whistled, “That’s a pretty far leap to take, even for a legend. What, you hopin’ you’ll get the chance to see em’ or somethin’?” He sneered, taking his glass and lazily swirling it in his hand. “I wish!” She laughed, “Nah I mostly just moved here for work. If anything though it’s cuz a them for where I am now. I’d never even heard of him till about five years ago!” Mac blinked, lowering his drink from his lips, “You’re joking…”

“Not at all! No one hardly knows the story back home. Only reason I found out was cuz I just started gettin’ into anything monkey-related as a hobby.” She pointed at him, “Don’t laugh either, it’s a wildly popular standpoint to have these days online.” Mac quirked a brow at that, he’d hardly touched the internet these days save for whenever he needed some quick info on something he couldn’t find elsewhere. He held his hands up, “Hey I ain’t judging…” He smirked a little to betray the look that he totally was though. It was kinda funny how ironic it was him being there right then. She squinted at him, “Anyways...Yeah, I’d seen stuff of him online, but I’d never paid much attention to it up until recently.” “What made you change your mind?” Mac boredly probed, taking a sip. She simply shrugged, “I was in a dark headspace, guy made me laugh.” He paused, “Wait, seriously??” “I mean have you HEARD half the crazy shit he’s done??” ‘Babe I’ve LIVED through half the shit he’s done.’ “Like, literally, the guy is HILARIOUS. My favorite story out of them all being one where he literally tricked THREE taoist immortals into drinking his own piss!!” She burst out laughing while Mac choked on his drink a little, not having expected to hear that of all things. Sure he’d heard a few of the shenanigan’s his peaches had gotten up to throughout his journey to the west but he’d never heard that one before. Nor had he the patience to read through all that mess of context that had been published either. “Ahhh man, it still gets me…” The chick sighed with a few leftover laughs as she wiped a tear from her eye. “What about you? What’s your favorite story?” She asked. And suddenly Mac felt like he’d been put on the spot as he stared back at her. “Come ooon, surely there’s one that’s gotten your gut rolling.” She pried. ‘Plenty, but there ain’t no way in hell I’d tell a soul.’ “Bahh...there ain’t the first one that comes to mind that I’d like. Honestly I’m not even much of a fan.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Whaaat?? Aw come on! There’s tons of cool n’ funny stories!” “Heh..can’t imagine what you find so charming about a guy who’s too good for his own friends.” Mac spitefully twacked himself mentally for spewing something so personal like that out. Ugh, and he hadn’t even finished half his drink yet… The chick sitting to his left seemed to tilt her head a little before she squinted at him. Her silence being what brought his attention from his drink to her as he blinked back with a quirked brow. “What?” “Your eyes, they’re like raging storm clouds.” She pointed out. He blinked, not really sure how to feel about that. The only one who’d ever really pointed that out to him before was… “...So?” “Nothing!...” She shrugged, turning back away towards her own drink as if no conversation at all had happened between them. Whatever...he had his fill of shit to drink to either way. The night might’ve been late but he was just getting started. “He makes me laugh though.” She pointed out, earning her a glance. “All his stories n’ stuff. If there was ever a man I’d want, it’d be one who could always make me laugh.” “Hmph, not one for strength?” He took a long sip. Ignoring the bitterness of others fawning over someone he’d come to love before he’d gotten so popular. “Strength is fine n’ all, but it can only take a relationship so far..you gotta have more pieces to put in that crockpot of a relationship if you wanna make it taste good. Stuff like patience, honesty, a little bit of everything to help it all come together to make it juuuuust right.” “Hm…” “It can’t be all just you putting the stuff in there either, it’s gotta be a contribution from both gardens. Otherwise you’ll just barren your lands and be left with nothing to spare yourself or others in your life with.” She glanced at Mac, “Relationships are tricky like that, but they should always be a 50/50 split~” She winked. That...actually sounded like pretty sound advice. Something he’d heard a little here and there before but never so simply laid out. Though it made sense from his standpoint, fairness n’ all that. But he’d been that way with Wukong before and it had never worked out, all the bickering and such, so what had gone wrong? “Can I...ask you something?” Mac inquired. “Shoot.” “What’re your thoughts on..a relationship that seemed fine, but then the other changed so much that everything about it fell apart?” “Mmm...care to sprinkle in a lil more context?” The chick eyed him. Mac’s face scrunched up a little, no idea why he was asking some random mortal for relationship advice of all things. “Hey man. We’re both probably never gonna meet again after tonight, so if you’ve got skeletons in your closet, your best place to let em’ out is here. Bartenders are known for being the most well kept secret keepers in all the world after all~” She winked at the bartender in question who simply looked the other way with a look that might’ve suggested such a fact as truth. “Hm…” Ah screw it, “Alright alright…” He sighed and put his drink down, “There’s..someone. We used to be real close, we were strong together but then uh..shit got real and he had to go deal with it. But when he came back he uh, wasn’t the same as before, an I might’ve sorta assumed he was cheating on me so…so we kinda fell out.” The chick nodded, “Ahh..the classic misunderstanding of change and cheating, a tale as old as time.” She seemed to hum a moment before she turned from where she was seated, if not to hop down off her stool and plop down on the one right up next to him. “Uh-” “Shhh, lemme see those eyes.” She squinted, leaning in and staring deep into his. It’d would’ve been really unnerving if she hadn’t said anything about them before, now he was a lil put off that he might’ve been asking a witch of all things for advice… “Right. Well, at least you feel bad about it. So there’s that.” He blinked and his brows furrowed, “Wh- of course I feel bad about it, it was his fault-” He suddenly had a finger pressed to his lips. “Nope! Nooononono, you do not get to throw all the blame elsewhere like that sweetheart. There ain’t no way in hell you’re gettin’ a second chance with them if you keep that up.” She pulled her hands back. His face scrunched up and he found himself crossing his arms, if he had his tail out it would’ve been irritably swaying behind him right then at just how annoyed he was getting at this weird lady and her words. “Oh yeah? An what do you think’s best then huh?” “I dunno if you’d be up for that kinda challenge…” She idly fiddled with an imaginative piece of lint off her sleeve, which only seemed to irritate Mac further at the thought of him not being able to handle Wukong of all people. Like sure he’d gotten his ass handed to him before but he could still hold his own! “Try me.” The chick glanced back at him with a smirk, which caught him off guard for a second before he shot her a glare back. “Alright, but it’s definitely not gonna be as quick or easygoing of a recovery as you might hope it’ll be. Nor is there even a chance of you recovering it in the first place. But, you at least got that spark enough to try so who am I to deny?” ‘Hmpt, dam right I got a spark.’

“First of all, no more blaming, if you’re gonna tackle this properly, you gotta do yourselves a favor an quit it with the blame placing. Sure it’s easy, but it ain’t gonna get you nowhere but back to square one. It’s all in the past, the now is now. So push forward to fix it and put it behind you two so you can focus on the more important things.” “Easier said than done…” “Hey man, even if they don’t follow the same ruleset at first you could always work things out to make it one later on. I’m just tellin’ ya right now so you won’t just go diggin’ yourself a deeper hole.” Honestly at this point he was pretty much six feet down under, death to him would’ve been a mercy right then. “Fine…” He rolled his eyes. “Next up, apologizing…” -----------~----------- “I thought I told you to stay off my island.” Mac didn’t really glance back from where he stood high up on one of the breathtaking ledges that which Flower Fruit Mountain bolstered. His arms crossed, eyes sternly held against the leftover warmth of the late afternoon sun as it shifted the skies hues from blue to blood red. Hopefully that would be the only tinge of red the Mountain would see after today. “I know.” “What, no witty remark? Give me one good reason-” “I just wanted to talk.” Mac stated plainly. “Why the hell should I give you the chance?” “...” Mac wasn’t sure if he could come up with a good enough reason after the shitshow he’d caused him the last few centuries, most recent being his spat with him between MK. “I’m sorry.” That seemed to catch the king off guard, as he paused in his vicious glare to stare at the other. “Excuse me??” “I’m.Sorry.” Mac turned finally to Wukong, that look of fiery malice having softened immensely upon meeting their eyes. “I was wrong for what I did and I’m sorry.” Wukong’s face looked like it had had a stroke with how frozen in place it was, almost like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Hurting everyone around you just to get back at you, I was wrong for doing that. And I just wanted to apologize.” Mac’s face twisted a little, the words coming out a little rougher than he’d liked, but he’d managed to get three steps in so far… “If you think a few sorry’s are gonna be enough to make up for all that crap then you gotta nother’ thing comin Mac.” Wukong finally shook off the surprise and crossed his arms with a steely gaze. “Nah I know they ain’t worth shit with as long as it's been...which it’s been..a really, really long time come to think of it..nearly 3000 years…” Fucking yikes. “What’s your point?...” Wukong raised a brow at him. “My point is...my point..” What was his point? To make amends and hope they’d get back together? To go back to the way things were? That couldn’t be done with the way things were now. Wukong had a successor, a moral compass, a lotta shit that Mac didn’t. A lotta shit that he wanted but never could figure out how to get his own. His face scrunched up a little and he sighed, “I..just wanted to make things right.” “Oh-hoh? After so long you finally decided to admit you were at fault? Sorry Mac, but it’s waaaay too late for that.” Wukong huffed, “Honestly, this is probably just another one of your stupid tricks if anything. The old Macaque would never throw himself down like that.” “Well maybe I’ve changed!” Mac exclaimed suddenly, his temper flaring a bit as his eyes flashed lightning. “3000 years later? As if…” Wukong rolled his eyes and turned away, “You’ve still got that same look in your eyes you always do whenever we fight. Do me a favor and just keep away from the hot springs this time yeah? The last time you were here you sent a whole dam boulder over there and smashed half the pools.” He waved his hand dismissively. “And I happen to take my once a month bath’s very seriously.” Mac’s nostrils flared a little at just how flamboyant Wukong was acting towards him and his attempt to make amends. How he just saw his attempt as a joke and nothing more, it pissed him off. Wukong had changed and everyone had accepted him, well not everyone, but still, why couldn’t the same be for him? Had he really fooled himself into believing that there was a chance he and Wukong could be together again? His shoulders slumped a little. Of course, who was he kidding. A 3000 year old pit of grudges wasn’t about to just up and disappear at the wave of a white flag. This was Wukong, the same guy who still playfully pestered the gods and demons around him for past conflicts that had happened between them. -----------~----------- “But you can’t just go, ‘ooo I’m so sorry for what I did.’ Nah, you gotta follow the five steps.” The chick claimed. “Yeesh, this a learning course now?” Mac tilted his head to the side. “It is if you wanna make things right.” She claimed matter a factly. “The five steps have never failed me before and have worked wonders for any an all my relationships. Might not quite have the same range of effect you’re going for but it’ll at least be a good start.” “Heh, you got the guts to back up that case?” Mac sneered. “I will if you don’t manage to screw it up.” The chick pointed out. “The five steps go as follows.” - express sorrow (I’m sorry) - own guilt (I was wrong) - name specific wrongs (I did X) - name impact (I hurt you) “And finally...” -----------~----------- “What can I do to prove myself to you?” Macaque asked finally. “What can I do to at least make it to where we can..not fight anymore..and just talk?...” Wukong stood there for a long moment, his features unreadable as their silence was muffled by the wind bellowing between them both from being so high up. “You really are serious about this aren’t you?...” Wukong’s head shifted ever so slightly, but not enough to where Mac could get a reading on his emotions. “I’m tired of fighting and waiting and thinking that if enough time passes things’ll go back to the way they were...when they never will. Trying to hurt you isn’t gonna make the old you come back, no matter how many times you beat me down...It’ll never be the same.” Mac admitted finally. A quiet gust settled down between them, before Wukong seemed to let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. “Can’t believe it took me 3000 years to beat the sense into you.” He turned and looked back at the other, where he no longer held a look of seething hate, but more akin to that of the same tired look just as the one Mac wore. Mac felt a sliver of guilt wriggle its way into one of the cracks of his heart and he glanced away, pulling a hand back and scratching his head. “Yeah well...your kid hit me pretty hard last time, enough to knock it in place.” A small smile crept a little onto his face. “Hm~ He’s gettin’ pretty good at hittin’ stuff with that old stick.” Wukong’s eyes glinted a little at the appeal of how proud he was for MK having taken Mac out the way he did. A little over the top and flashy, just like him.” “He’s got a pretty strong master to thank for that…” Mac found himself yearning a little for that same glint to be reflected on his memory the same way as MK’s. Not that he couldn’t see himself holding the same appeal for MK the way Wukong did, kid was strong, just a lil desperate in some of the cracks that shaped his outline. Something Macaque found that was easy enough to take advantage of, and something Wukong held a blind eye to. “Hm.” Wukong’s reply pushed him out of those thoughts for the moment as they shared a brief look between one another. A glimmer of reconsideration flashing between the two before Wukong finally turned his head away to drink in the sunset before them. “One chance.” Mac felt his heart nearly stop at that answer. “I’ll give you one chance, but if you screw this up, don’t even think about showing your face to me again.” Wukong replied, “I mean it this time…” Mac swallowed a little and nodded. Anything, he’d be willing to do anything to gain back what little trust he could from Wukong. “Good...you can start making up for it by apologizing to MK.” Mac blinked and sputtered a little as Wukong turned away and began to make his way back down the mountain. A smile playing on his lips while Macaque groaned to the heavens about his next trial.

#shadowpeaches #LMK #lego monkie kid #my fics #Sun Wukong #Macaque #AND MEEEEE #BECAUSE I SAID SO #>:3c

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alexplayssimsnstuff · 5 years ago

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Bella Goth Disappearance FINALLY Solved!

Back in the day, I had originally subscribed to the theory that Bella was abducted by aliens that were set on her by the Caliente’s who then murdered her when she returned, and so I went in the game to do a walkthrough as to how I came to that theory. That’s when I found that I WAS WAYYYY OFF, there is a whole ass rabbit-hole here, and like a total Alice, I fell in it.

And, after 16 years of wondering and imagining different scenarios, I finally found out the truth. Turns out, we were ALL wrong, and the truth has been staring at us in the face the whole time.

Just as a warning, this is VERY dark and bleak and depressing. Bella wasn’t dealt a good hand, guys. What happened to her was all sorts of MESSED up.

Just for clarity, I do base this off of events that happen in the official sims storyline, because while the game is ultimately up to us to live life as we like, go ahead and do whatever with your game, there IS a story being told here, but in a way that doesn’t conflict with our own free will. It’s ingenious, really. This goes with the main Sims games released for PC and Mac. However, the console versions do provide a lot of insight to further details and situations. Specifically the Sims 2 for PSP, and the Sims 3 for the Nintendo DS.

So, first off, it has been verified what happened to her: In 2014, Twitter held an AMA for the SimGurus just before the release of the Sims 4. Someone asked the following question, and SimGuru Sarah responded.

It was later confirmed that Bella Goth of Lunar Lakes IS the Bella Goth of Pleasantview. She does look like the rest of the ghosts there with pale skin and yellow hair and eyes, and with that in mind, you can see for yourself…

That’s her, alright.

Okay, if she died on Lunar Lakes, there are still questions that need answers:

1. Did she ever go home?

2. Does her family know what happened to her?

3. How did she die on Lunar Lakes?

Well, she died of old age, that can be found out easily enough, but I found the answers to the other two: Kinda and no.

So, just to recap, I’m gonna review Bella’s life as we know it canonically.

Bella was born to Simis and Jocasta Bachelor of Sunset Valley. She grew up the road from her childhood best friend, and later, husband, Mortimer Goth, with her older brother Michael. She always had a sense of the macabre and dark and was known as “the best dressed girl in town.” Even then she wore a red dress. A more child appropriate red dress, but a red dress. She just came from an average suburban family who had a fascination for the not average. She’s still a child, and not a Goth yet. She still goes by the surname Bachelor.

Twenty-five years later, she shows up in the Sims 1 with her childhood best friend and now husband, Mortimer Goth, and they have moved into their own home, and have a daughter, Cassandra. Her in-laws moved out of their home in Sunset Valley and moved into what would later become the Goth House of the Sims 2 in the beginnings of what would be known as Pleasantview. Unless you got her a job, she was a housewife, and she was known to be athletic, elegant, and friendly towards her neighbors. I remember her often being the first to come and say hello to any new Sims I’d move into the neighborhood. Her brother, Michael, is also in town, however, there is no acknowledgement of them being siblings. A family tree system didn’t really exist in the Sims 1, and I’m sure they didn’t even think to make them siblings back then, but the fact remains that they have no relationship at this point in time. The only reason why it’s known that Cornelia and Gunther Goth are Mortimer’s parents is because it straight up says so in the bio. That and their names are the same, but anyway.

So far, things are simple.

That’s because in the 25 years between the Sims 1 and 2, a series of events occurs that really makes things interesting.

Michael joins the science career track. One can assume the reason why he settled into domestic living years after Bella had done so was because he was at grad school. Because he was graduated from grad school, he gets a jumpstart in the career and climbs the latter a lot faster than Mortimer does.

1. Scientist Sims contribute an invention into the Sims world. Michael’s invention was cloning technology. He cloned himself, and a test subject: Skip Broke.

a. Even though he died before it happened, arrangements were made so Brandi could be the next test subject and the first female subject, and when you start Pleasantview for the first time, she is pregnant with her own clone. The baby is always born a boy.

b. Michael’s clones have a 100% rate of being male, genetic identicals to those they were cloned from (Brandi’s just being a boy rather than a girl) and so far, a 100% rate of dying at the same time as the original. They are genetically identical, but wear different clothes.

2. Michael and Bella don’t really have a relationship in their adult lives because Michael leaves Pleasantview early on while Cassandra is still a child and moves to the city.

3. Mortimer follows after Michael, and invents the age reversal serum. Bella is the first test subject, and, the day of her abduction, she takes the serum until she reverts back to being a brand-new adult. Probably to allow herself to fit in her red dress as strikingly as she does, I don’t think an elderly woman could pull that off.

4. Cassandra enters private school.

5. Around this time, Gunther Goth dies. Bella, Mortimer, and Cassandra move out of their home and in with Cornelia to be with her in her last stages of life.

6. Michael marries Dina Caliente. It is speculated that, because of the age gap, they only marry for Michael’s money. But it is worth noting that Michael was Dina’s first serious relationship and she didn’t begin to cheat on Michael with Don until years later just before Michael died.

7. Alexander is born.

8. Shortly after Alexander’s birth, Cornelia dies at the same time Michael does.

9. Dina inherits Michael’s estate and moves in with Nina. They then move to Pleasantview.

10. Don follows them and moves the next day.

11. Bella goes to introduce herself to her new neighbor, Don. They get along, and Don gets the wrong idea and puts the move on Bella. Bella rejects him. He then runs off to go be with Kaylynn and is not there when Bella is abducted by aliens.

12. Bella is never seen again, but shortly after her abduction, a UFO crashlands in Strangetown, and reports that Bella is in Strangetown start rolling in. But, spoiler alert, that’s not the real Bella.

Then, after Bella’s abduction and before you start Pleasantview for the first time, the following happens:

1. Mortimer and Dina hit it off rather fast, and marriage is definitely in the picture when the game first starts.

2. Cassandra, Mortimer, and Alexander all age up on the same day 2 days after Bella disappears.

3. Cassandra goes to Don’s house to find out what he knows about what happened to Bella (jack squat since he wasn’t there) and that’s where they meet for the first time. Don tries to seduce her, probably not knowing who she is, and Cassandra, as much as you gotta love the girl, is naïve as all hell and thinks she won the jackpot and falls for Don quickly.

4. Alexander goes to private school

5. Mortimer retires

6. Cassandra gets engaged the VERY day the game starts.

That is an important thing to note because people like to speculate that Don had something to do with Bella’s disappearance because he made the moves on her mother and they were engaged and he didn’t want to jeopardize that by Bella opening her yap. This is NOT the case because Cassandra was still a teenager when Bella vanished. Don may be a hoe, but he isn’t a pedo. Chris Hansen doesn’t need to be called for this one.

Another important thing to point out is that it’s not known if Dina and Nina knew Bella. At least, not well, since it can’t be established if Michael and Bella had a relationship at all. Despite the fact that they were friends when they were younger, Mortimer has no memories of Michael, and neither do Cassandra or Alexander. They never met their uncle.

ALSO, yes Dina and Nina do have alien ancestry. Their father was a result of an alien abduction pregnancy. But he was born human, so they’re not part alien. Which means they didn’t order ANY aliens to go and kidnap anybody. Why would they? They don’t know her. Not even normal alien sims do that, y’all are just racist.

It’s also worth noting that Mortimer is COMPLETELY fine with Bella being gone. He’s not heartbroken and he isn’t desperately trying to find her like the game tries to suggest. He’s strangely cool about it.

Why is Mortimer fine with Bella being gone?

Because they are no longer married and haven’t been since around the time Alexander was born.

And THAT, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals, is the BIGGEST part that y’all need to just remember. If you can only take one thing away from this part, take away the fact that they’re divorced. It’s S U P E R important.

Now, it is possible to bring Bella back with the Tombstone of Life and Death. She’ll only stick around for a short while because she has a death token that activates when you save the lot, go into Pleasantview, and reload the Goth House. She’ll disappear. Interesting to note that if she’s in the middle of doing something, like talking with a sim or cooking food, she doesn’t disappear completely until she’s done. She does turn see-through and it kinda glitches out…it’s really creepy. Give it a try, you’ll see what I mean. But when she’s done, she’ll disappear, and you’ll get a notification saying she died somewhere else and her spirit has returned to where she was buried.

However, if she dies this way, you cannot resurrect her with the resurrect-o-nomitron. It doesn’t matter who tries it, where they are, or anything. Grim acts like he doesn’t know anything about Bella being dead and even if the Sim COULD resurrect a sim, Bella is not listed.

Since we know Bella is buried in Lunar Lakes, this means she died sometime between the week of her abduction and Cassandra’s wedding where the game starts.

However, while you have Bella in your household, you’ll find she’s brought back with no personality points. She has no memories besides what happened to her children after the first load of Pleasantview. So let’s say that between loading the game and bringing back Bella with the Tombstone, Cassandra gives birth to twin boys. Bella will come back with memories that Cassandra had twins, and she will even know who her grandchildren are. (I use this example because in my most recent Pleasantview playthrough, Cassandra had twin boys named Hendrick and Caspian with Don Lothario.)

Bella will have NO relationship at all whatsoever with Mortimer. You can see before you bring her back on the Goth family tree that they are not married at that point, and Mortimer and Bella start their relationship over as acquaintances. If you let them progress their relationship naturally with no cheats, they actually fight a lot and do not get along at all.

Now, any townie and NPC created before Nightlife will have their turn-on and turn-offs randomized. But it seems to constantly make it so that Bella is never attracted to Mortimer and Mortimer is RARELY attracted to Bella. This is a consistent thing. Interesting to take into consideration.

It’s clear to me, at least, that there were some problems boiling up for some time before Bella vanished.

--they get divorced at around the same time Alexander is born

--they do not get along at all

--Mortimer is completely fine after Bella’s disappearance and isn’t the frantic husband he’s marketed to be at this point in time.

--Mortimer gets into a relationship with Dina Caliente extremely soon after Bella vanishes.

--If Bella does come back and Mortimer is still alive, they naturally do not get along at all.

Which is weird, right? They were always shown to be this desperately in love couple who couldn’t live without eachother. I remember them having a good relationship in the Sims 1.

Also worth noting, Bella is a romance aspiration sim. In the Sims 2, they tend to hoe around a lot. There are a few other adult sims in Pleasantview who are also romance aspiration sims.

1. Don Lothario (the epitome of the romance aspiration)

2. Nina Caliente

3. Daniel Pleasant

4. Skip Broke was also a romance aspiration sim when he was alive.

What is interesting is that while for the most part, romance aspiration sims like to hoe around, there is one exception to this rule so far: Nina Caliente. Nina Caliente’s only romantically involved with Don Lothario. Unless you have another sim start putting the moves on her, then it’s a whole other story. If it were a thing back then, Nina would have been a soulmate romance aspiration while the others would have been serial romantic aspirations.

Bella COULD have been the same way, but that wouldn’t make any sense with the myriad of problems with her relationship with Mortimer.

So, in conclusion, Bella had an affair. Mortimer found out about it, which caused them to, at the least, separate for a while. Then, Bella became pregnant with Alexander, which would have brought up an important question—who is Alexander’s father? Once Alexander was born, and as he got a little older, it becomes clear that he resembles Cornelia, therefore verifying that Mortimer is indeed his father. This would have caused them to try their relationship again, and Bella would have turned down Don in good faith to Mortimer.

Who did Bella have an affair with?

Don wasn’t in town yet, and they hadn’t met. Neither did she meet the Caliente’s yet. Which leaves two possible contenders for Bella’s secret lover: Daniel Pleasant and Skip Broke.

On one hand, Daniel was Bella’s neighbor. She knew the Pleasants, and was friends with Mary-Sue. Daniel had an affair with Kaylynn going on, so he definitely could have some action on the side with Bella, too. My only reservation on that would be that I couldn’t imagine her doing that to her best friend. But then again, she did have an affair on her husband, so who’s to say what her morals are.

Then, there’s Skip Broke. This one makes the most sense to me, personally. While she wasn’t close with Michael, that doesn’t mean she completely avoided him altogether. She would have heard about Michael’s cloning experiments and could have met Skip that way, or she came to say hello and that was how they met. There is a theory going around that Brandi found out Skip was cheating on her, and that’s why she killed him and took his insurance money.

Maybe I’ll do another thing on that because the Skip Broke incident happens to be another rabbit hole altogether.

So, we know that Bella had an affair with Mortimer and things weren’t going so well between them at the time of her disappearance. We know that the Calientes and Don are completely innocent, at least as far as her disappearance goes. (And Nina is innocent altogether, she just loves Don and is completely oblivious to the fact that he’s doing her sister and two other women. She is ALSO a victim here, you guys. Give some love to Nina Caliente, she needs it.)

She dies sometime in the week between her abduction and the first time the Goth household is booted up from old age on Lunar Lakes despite the fact that she was a brand new adult again thanks to Mortimer’s reverse age serum.

Then a UFO crashlands in Strangetown and shortly thereafter reports of Bella Goth being in Strangetown start swarming around.

And yes, this Bella is a clone—there are subtle facial similarities, she is not in the family tree at all for the Goth house, but other than that, she’s structured exactly like the Real Bella goes as far as her outfit, her personality, and her aspiration.

(The Wiki says it’s her despite the fact that it’s been verified she’s not, and it also has MANY discrepencies, saying she’s related to the Curious Family and they appear on her family tree, which is incorrect because Strangetown Bella’s family tree is COMPLETELY EMPTY.)

So, clearly, when Bella was abducted, something went wrong. But what?

Well, why would the aliens even abduct her in the first place?

They tend to go after sims who are wealthy, high-skilled, good-looking, popular, anything like that. Bella was ALL of those things. She was the epitome of the perfect sim to the aliens. They practically worshipped her and their queen took her name and appearance. (This is referenced several times, specifically in the Sims 3.)

So, if something were to go wrong, why would the aliens worship her unless she had been being watched for some time before her abduction?

And what went wrong that caused her to lose her memories, her skills, her personality, her youth, everything?

Aliens also do not abduct children, the elderly, and pregnant sims because their experimentation could go drastically wrong.

She wasn’t a child, and reversed her age so she wouldn’t be an elder for quite some time—

So the only thing that’s left is that she was pregnant when she was abducted and that was why things went wrong.

She wouldn’t have known this, and neither would the aliens—it’s possible that the baby was conceived that day, which helped Bella in the case where Don was hitting on her—she wouldn’t go cheating on Mortimer if she were trying to rekindle their relationship and they had made it to woo-hoo that day.

Also worth noting is that there IS another Goth on Lunar Lakes who happens to look exactly like Bella.

Anyone recognize her?

This is Mathilde Goth.

She is the long-lost third child of Mortimer and Bella Goth.

No, they don’t appear on eachother’s family tree, but they wouldn’t if Bella died shortly after giving birth to her and Mathilde was put in the orphanage.

Mathilde looks almost identical to Bella with the exception of her blue eyes. She also has a preference for blue where Bella preferred red.

Mathilde has no idea where her mother came from and the fact that she has a family on Earth who is just as oblivious to her existence as she is to theirs.

What happens to Cassandra and Alexander after they find out about Bella’s death?

Remember how I said scientist sims end up inventing something?

Cassandra’s invention is time travel. She makes a time machine and the first use is to send Don to the future after her, Dina, Nina, and Kaylynn find out that he was playing all of them. She then goes on to live her life. We don’t know how that looks yet, but she never finds out what happened to her mother and that she has a younger sister.

Alexander is greatly affected by his mother’s death. He has no memories of her being abducted by aliens. Normally toddlers remember things like that so it’s odd that he doesn’t when the rest of his family does. What he does remember is her disappearing, Mortimer being okay with it and getting together with Dina really fast after she vanished, and then finding out that his mother was dead.

Alexander is a child prodigee. He’s a smart kid. So, he would go with any other conclusion someone would go with that limited information: he believed Mortimer killed her.

Well, Cassandra still has her time machine after she uses it to get rid of Don. And as we all know, Alexander’s name shows up in the Sims 3 a few times despite the fact that he doesn’t exist yet. And, according to the Goth family tree, it’s not a family name of an ancestor of his, he is the only Alexander Goth.

Once again, we’re going to reference a console game. This time is the Sims 3 for the Nintendo DS. Alexander actually makes an appearance, and this time, he’s not alone: he’s married to a woman named Cecelia. The family bio says that their gloominess is BECAUSE of Mortimer. Alexander dyed his hair orange. Probably he was trying to bleach it and didn’t know what toner was. He doesn’t have that great of a relationship with Cecelia, as a matter of fact, she has a better relationship with Don Alto than she does her own husband.

Back in the realm of the PC games, Alexander wrote two books when he went back in time to the continuity of the Sims 3:

Baron Graff Van Gold, which comes with Supernatural,

And then there’s the one that appears in the base game.

Murder in Pleasantview.

To string it altogether, Alexander remembers her being gone, then learning she died. He suspects Mortimer was the one to do it but he never actually talks to his father about it. He doesn’t know anything about the abduction, if anything thinking it a ridiculous rumor. He grows up, gets married, and decides at some point in time to go back in time to try and prevent his mother’s death. So he and his wife go into the time machine and try to go back to when it happened, but instead get sent back wayyyy too far to when his parents are still children. What happens to the time machine? It breaks. He’s stuck in a period of time where Time travel wasn’t a thing and no one really knows how to help him and he sure as hell doesn’t know himself. Effectively, he’s stuck there.

So, he writes A Murder in Pleasantview to tell the story of what he thinks happens to his mother. He doesn’t know it’s really all for nothing, but at the same time, it is because of what ends up happening as a result. A result he probably didn’t even know would happen.

See, A Murder in Pleasantview is a best-seller. It blows up the world of 50 years before his time. Every bookshelf has a copy of this book, standard-load. Sims would have read this, and would be influenced accordingly. They would have made better decisions, not wanting this tragic thing to happen to them.

And yes, it does literally take the world by storm. Better decisions in the past truly make for a better future.

This is where the Sims 4 comes in. It is a different continuity, but it is different because they are aware of what Alexander believes to have happened to Bella. This would be why their personalities are so completely different, why the age gap between Cassandra and Alexander aren’t so extreme, why the Goths are so much more reclusive.

Alexander did something that inadvertently changed the future, eliminating himself and his circumstances entirely. He vanished suddenly, probably in a series of events identical to Back to the Future, where he is then allowed to live his life as a child with his mother in the picture, having no idea what he believed happened to her, nor knowing the truth. He erases his little sister altogether, but he can’t be blamed for that since he didn’t know she even existed.

What happened to his wife? Did she get erased like Alexander did?

No, actually she died. She tried repairing the time machine, failed, and was electrocuted to death as a result. She died young and is buried in the Goth mansion’s graveyard, confusing future generations because no one knows where she comes from because she has the surname Goth but they can’t find her on their family tree.

Lolita Goth was the wife of Alexander Goth.

Yes, it says she’s single, which means one of two things happened:

Either she tried repairing the time machine one last time after Alexander vanished and died,

Like Alexander’s marriage to Cecelia, they didn’t have the best relationship and they ended up getting a divorce, then, possibly with Alexander still around, did the same and died.

She clearly wanted to go back home to her time and wasn’t happy with Alexander for being stuck there.

And it makes sense that she would have been electrocuted with the time machine because there are no other objects in the Goth Mansion that would result in her electrocution.

Which would ALSO explain why the Goths of the Sims 3 can’t figure out who she is. You can’t list a descendent and their wife on your family tree if they don’t exist yet, can you?

Tragedy is just par for the course in the Goth Family, it matches their dark and dreary macabre air. But Bella’s story is just really extra sad. Imagine trying to repair your failed marriage, going to meet a new neighbor only for him to put the moves on you without invitation, then get abducted by aliens where their experiments go wrong, causing you to lose your memories, your personality, your youth, and then you find out that it went wrong because you’re pregnant, which you didn’t know about that either, and your kidnappers take a tissue sample from you, and then drop you on a strange planet far from home where you have no way to communicate to them that you’re there, but you don’t remember anyone but your children anyway, leaving you to have a baby you didn’t even know existed when you were abducted and live just long enough to name her?

The truth has been staring at us in the face since 2014, but we all missed it. Me included for the longest time. It’s been 16 years since Bella went missing, and we all had theories and ideas, but THIS is the truth, and it’s really. Messed up. Yeah, I found out what happened to Bella, but do I like it? No, not at all. Bella deserved better, and so do her children. Mathilde especially. She grew up in an orphanage never knowing she had a family who would have loved her so very much, only to become a mailcarrier on her home planet. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a mailcarrier, don’t get me wrong.

Dina Caliente is innocent, but seriously? Bye.

Nina Caliente is innocent, and really deserves better.

Don Lothario is innocent, but yet he sucks.

Mortimer Goth used to be my favorite out of the Goth family, yes, even over Bella. But after learning everything about him I have mixed feelings about the guy. I don’t blame him for not trusting Bella, and I don’t blame him for wanting to move on, but jeez, at least show a little genuine emotion, Morty, she was your childhood best friend, and, if nothing else, the mother of your children.

There was no plot to get rid of her and swipe the Goth fortune.

It was just poor timing on the alien’s end, and bad luck altogether.

So, yeah.

That’s what happened to Bella Goth.

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awake-dearheart · 4 years ago

Text

it took me a couple days but here’s a rundown of things sebastian said during the zoom call with his trainer don saladino and the march challenge group. he was on for an hour and three minutes total. keep in mind this challenge was fitness oriented so most of the questions revolve around that. this will also be LONG.

first of all he had trouble unmuting himself which was hilarious

he had a carboard cutout of the falcon with him which made everyone laugh

he loved being able to support ronald mcdonald house and he was sad they couldn’t go this year. sweet baby

when he was asked what he struggles with in his fitness he immediately said body dysmorphia. like no hesitation. he said he felt like he could stand to be less hard on himself.

he prefers cardio over other kinds of workouts.

he mentioned a role he’s getting ready for that’s “a lot different” but he laughed it off and said he couldn’t talk about it. i’m thinking it might have been tommy lee?

he tries to workout even just a little before he goes to set even when his schedule is crazy.

when he started training he had NO idea what he was doing. it took him a while to get into a routine and figure it out. he credited don with working a lot with him and finding a routine that works for him.

he feels better when he can do something physical every day. he said it really helps him mentally because the two go hand in hand for him.

someone said they were learning romanian and asked him for phrases to learn in romanian he said (in romanian) “oh my GOD why would you do that?” he also said he thinks people learning romanian because of him is “one of the sweetest things.”

he was asked how he balances training to look good vs training to feel good and he said if he’s training to look good he’s never 100% satisfied. training to feel good and setting short term goals has been better for him.

don praised him for working hard to pivot his focus on the overall vs the day to day. seb said it was a lot harder when he started than it is now.

someone asked him if the workouts or the nutrition was harder and he immediately started talking about pizza and how much he loves a good cheat meal. the chat blew up talking about his cheat day video for men’s health.

seb asked don his favorite cheat meal and they went on a tangent about burgers and fries and vodka that had us cracking up. seb said he went through a period where he was eating some kind of chocolate every day.

someone asked if he found it mentally difficult to go from one body type to another for roles and he said absolutely. he said if he has a shirtless scene to do then a month before he cuts out ALL sugar. fruits, carbs, everything and he turns into a very irritable person for about two weeks.

he was asked how the pandemic has changed his training and he said of course it has. him and don worked together to create a program for him to do from home with dumbbells and they had to get inventive. he’s been running a lot too.

someone asked the strangest item he’s used for weights and he said he’d go to the grocery store by himself without uber or anything. he tried to do one big shopping trip to last him for a week and half and he’d be laden with bags and it took him an hour and a half to walk home.

he told a story about using a towel and a bar in his house and he said “you probably know it because some “super fans” love to leak my address. so kind. lovely people.” the chat became v enraged.

he’s never had to get in shape on super short notice. marvel usually gives him about a 2 month heads up before he has to shoot things.

someone asked if he was a dog person. he said he loves dogs and he’d love to have one but he travels too much to give one the right kind of attention. he said if he could have a dog he’d have a bulldog or a husky.

he was asked his favorite nyc cheat meal and his first answer was “seeing all of you there” and we all cracked up. his real answer was a pizza place called rubirosa. he specifically likes their white pizza. (who wants to go to new york and get pizza with me?)

who would win in an iso squat challenge? him or don? (iso squats are when you drop into a squat and you hold it. it’s been the most hated exercise throughout the challenge). his face was HORRIFIED when he remembered what they are and he said don would definitely win. “don you have thighs of glory” the group is contemplating making shirts.

he played some sports in school but he wasn’t a super athletic kid. he struggled in school a bit because he had an accent and people were picking on him. it took a long time for his confidence to build.

celebrate victories where you can. he talked about when he posted that shirtless picture from the gym as an example. he said it’s more for motivation and pride in his achievements than about showing off.

he mentioned the documentary “the weight of gold” as something he watched recently. he said it’s a good example of people who are gold medal olympians struggling with the same things as everyone else when it comes to fitness. he comes back several times to not being too hard on yourself.

he hasn’t lifted any weights in about a month and a half but he’s been running. he’s surprised at the amount of muscle he still has because he thought he’d lose a lot of it.

taking breaks when you’re working on fitness is so important. he says taking a week off sometimes is ok if that’s what you need.

they have talked about pizza at least 5 times at this point (32 minutes in) and it’s HILAROUS honestly.

he hates leg day. he knows how important it is because you need strong legs but he prefers doing arms and chest. “the squats can be so annoying UGH.”

someone asked him his advice for people who are starting an acting career and he laughed and said “quit all social media.” he walked it back and said you have to find a way to quiet the noise.

this mfer went to theatre camp when he was 15 and he did MUSICALS. we tired to get him to sing. it didn’t work.

“you gotta do you. you cannot lose you as you’re going. and you cannot care what people think.”

he talked about imposter syndrome in terms of getting reviews and stuff. he said when he gets bad reviews it hurts but sometimes when he gets good reviews he can think “oh my god they made a mistake” or “oh my god i have to deliver like this every time.” he said if you’re starting out ask yourself why you want to do this and make sure this is what you want to do day in a day out. make sure when you face rejection and obstacles you have the energy to push you to get back up and say “fuck you i’m doing me.”

recommended the book “the subtle art of not giving a fuck” as something he loves.

“there’s creativity in everything. you don’t have to be a pianist or an actor or a writer. there’s creativity in all functions. as people we’re all creative.”

he went back to instagram for a minute and said to use it for the right things and follow the things that you like or are inspired by. he loves that social media can be used to reach people but you have to filter through the negative stuff.

someone asked the meanest thing don’t ever said during training and he said don’s never been mean but he’s always been inspiring and motivating for him. cute lil bromance moment.

he was asked if it’s harder to get into shape physically for the winter soldier or mentally. he said now it’s more of a head thing than it was in the beginning. the physically part was challenging for him in the beginning because he wanted to feel strong to build his confidence. he felt he couldn’t be bucky without being strong.

civil war was his real hair but when they started filming it wasn’t long enough so he had extensions. by the end of the shoot it was long enough to cut the extensions out.

the line between overtraining and not being motivated to train enough is hard for him sometimes. things tend to come all at once or not at all and it can be a struggle.

he meditates and does some kind of physical activity every day at the start of his day. it makes him able to do the things he needs to do for the rest of the day better.

he thanked everyone for their support of tfaws and “making us look pretty good.” he’s very grateful for the turnout.

don says falcon weird. that’s not important but i wanted to mention it.

running is his go to thing. he feels like it’s a good meditative thing for him. his go to pandemic workout was 100 pull ups, 100 push ups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats and alternating with running. we all panicked and were like “100 PULL UPS AT ONCE??” and he was like no no no no no no no no space that shit out during the day.

he loves breakfast but he doesn’t eat it at breakfast time. he joked he was going to eat breakfast after the call (which ended at 7PM). he likes anything with eggs and avocado.

there are still directors he wants to work with that he can’t get to see him for parts. he did three audition tapes, two in person auditions, and a screen test to get bucky.

he just recently learned what “thirst pics” are (he figured out from the chat it’s thirst traps). when someone told him that picture from the gym was a thirst trap he was like “oh great well that sounds terrible.” men’s health didn’t call him until after that pic. he had reached out to them before that but that was the thing that made them call.

“make fun of yourself. you have to not take yourself too seriously.”

they both talked about how being able to do things like this is a privilege. there are always days when seb or don or anyone walks into a gym and doesn’t want to be there.

this is the part that made me emotional as FUCK. he’s had days where he’s gone to set and been like “what the fuck am i doing?” he says every time that happens he thinks “this is the time they’re gonna realize i can’t do this. this is when they’re all gonna know i’ve never been good at this.” he said in those moments you can’t just say “no no no i’m the best.” he said sometimes affirmations work and they can be as simple as “i’m gonna try to have a good day today” and it doesn’t have to be “i have to be the best version of myself.” it can just be “i wanna have a good day today” but on the days when you don’t feel good about things and don’t know what you’re doing he said you have to go there and say “ok i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. fuck everything.” be in the thing that’s happening to you and give yourself permission to be down for a minute. find a compromise with yourself. if you can’t run the same three miles you’ve run all week and you just don’t want to, maybe you go for a walk instead. (his example not mine i DO NOT run). when he’s been in those moments of defeat accepting it had lead him to things he didn’t plan for and he finds those moments to be gifts in a way. accepting it and saying “today is that day” your body and your mind can start moving into finding other little things to do.

he came back to pizza one more time. i love him.

he recognizes how lucky he is to have the life he has. he says it’s important to pay attention to give a fuck about things and to give a fuck about things that will help other people.

watching him talk the whole time he seemed so happy and relaxed. he seems like such a light hearted and fun person and he laughed SO much

that’s the end y’all. thanks for sticking around and reading all my hastily typed notes

#Sebastian Stan #don saladino

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dying-suffering-french-stalkers · 3 years ago

Note

For the ship game: prime numbers for Lupin x Jigen!

HERE YOU GO GHOST, THIS WAS FIVE PAGES IN A GOOGLE DOC AND TOOK ME SEVERAL HOURS

Under a cut, allegedly, though mobile has been known to just IGNORE THAT. Sorry in advance if this gets goofed for anyone.

2) Who is always horny and will have sex at any time, in any place?

Lupin, obviously (and canonically). Just the horniest man you ever did see. Jigen knows what he wants and when he wants it, but he has difficulty keeping up with Don Juan Triumphant over there. Lupin is also far less picky about locations and times than Jigen is. Jigen still has a FEW standards, thank you, and also a stronger sense of self-preservation. Lupin sometimes tries to start shit in public or during a heist and Jigen is like “I REALLY, REALLY APPRECIATE THE SENTIMENT BUT CAN WE NOT.” The closest to public anything Jigen will put up with is bar bathroom/back-alley hookups, and he doesn’t really tend to do that with Lupin or Goemon since they have secondary locations far more suited to such activity (or at least the damn Fiat, if nothing else). That said, Jigen is a spiteful bastard and gets a huge kick out of riling Lupin up over the walkie-talkie during jobs. He is more than happy to get jumped by his boss after they make it out and secure the loot.

3) Who is more into taking showers/baths together? Who tries to make it relaxing and who tries to make it sexy time?

Honestly, while I can totally see Lupin and Jigen doing this with their other partners, I have a harder time imagining the two of them doing this together and I’m not sure why. I feel like these two on their own both like the privacy bathing gives them, whether it’s to clean wounds or decompress from a job.

On the occasions when they do bathe together, I feel like it’s an unspoken kind of thing, where the other person quietly slips in the tub/shower with them and they just don’t bother protesting. I think Lupin is more likely to join Jigen in his bathing, but if Jigen is sleepy enough or lonely enough he might do the same. There is a lot of mutual appreciation of scars. They’ve definitely smoked in the tub before (Intricate Rituals™). Lupin is probably more likely to get handsy, because Lupin, but two can play that game if Jigen is feeling it, and also Jigen gives Lupin a run for his money in the staring department. No hat to hide behind now.

Lupin has also 100% done the whole “Hey Jigen, do you know if—stop screaming, it’s me—do you know if we have any more instant dashi? Goemon’s gonna slice up the sofa if I ruin soba night again.”

5) Who sleeps on the couch when they get into a fight?

Jigen, but to be fair, he canonically sleeps on the couch most nights (possibly to keep an eye on the door, possibly because he knows that place, at least, is always “acceptable” for him to occupy). It’s an odd night if you don’t see Jigen out there with a glass and a bottle of scotch and an old movie on TV. The main difference is that if he and Lupin have been fighting, he won’t bother with the formality of a glass and the TV will be playing far louder or not at all.

7) [A] Who said “I love you” first? And [B] who ends their arguments in a fight with “Because I love you”?

I hate to take the coward’s way out here, but I think the answers are A) either one - depends on the headcanon/fic/version of the characters I’m feeling that day, and B) both.

For A, they’re both the sort of people to show their love—true love/affection, not just flirtation/infatuation, LUPIN—in action, not words. Lupin is a man of many words to a fault, generous with his verbal and physical affection, so Lupin has to find a way to make sure Jigen knows he means it and how he means it. He may rightly fear that Jigen won’t believe him (or else believe him but take it platonically) if he says “I love you” to his face, so first he’ll show him through every little action he can. Jigen is a man of few words to a fault, so saying personal stuff like that out loud is both a last resort and the point of no return. Getting him to say it at all, unambiguously, and while sober is like pulling teeth. Once one of them finally spits it out, though, I think the other is quick to reciprocate (again, if they manage to say it clearly and under good circumstances and not ambiguously/while drunk or wounded/etc. They’re both idiots and selective cowards so this is a big if). The mutual relief is palpable and immediately followed by sex, because they’re both (horny) idiots and selective cowards who do not want to talk about Emotions and Personal Things any more than strictly necessary.

For B, ohhhh man, if it isn’t that same emotional avoidance coming to bite them in the asses! Looks like talking about deep emotions is strictly necessary after all! You know it’s a Big Important Argument for them if this is what it comes to. This is going to tie in somewhat to the answers for 11, 17, and 23, so stay tuned. “Because I love you” coming from either of them should give the other pause, but if they are angry enough, they’re both quite likely to storm off after that declaration anyway. They’ll come back and have a real discussion later, but the shock or frustration of that arresting declaration dropped in the middle of an argument is something neither of them are great at dealing with. Hearing that from Jigen might be enough to stop Lupin in his tracks, but Lupin might also be so dead-set on something that he’ll steamroll right over it even if he knows he’ll regret it later. Hearing that from Lupin probably only makes Jigen angrier because of his awful self-esteem (see answers 11 and 23), and even if he’s been working on that, his instinct will be to snarl “Yeah, right” and storm out the door. I like to think that one day they are able to get to the heart of the argument sooner (because this is almost always it) and work on the behaviors that worry the other so much, but alas, they are a mess.

11) Who makes fun of the other for having a crush on them, and who has to remind them that they are in a relationship?

Once again, either of them depending on the day.

As you mentioned in your JiGoe post, Jigen says it partly because he thinks it’s funny (“You have a crush on me, Boss? Fuckin’ embarrassing”) but also because he’s fishing for validation. His self-esteem/confidence in anything outside his shooting skills is shit and he still can’t quite believe that Lupin isn’t lying/he hasn’t conned Lupin into something. This is rather overestimating his conning skills and underestimating his many good qualities, but, well, genuine, lasting affection is kinda new for him. Much to Jigen’s annoyance, Lupin figures out exactly what Jigen’s up to after the first few times and answers him seriously (and positively) instead of continuing the “joke”. Lupin loses patience for this particular tactic over time but I like to think that Jigen finally begins believing in the affection, too, so it comes up less and less and one day Jigen might actually play the quip straight without the self-deprecation. Ideally he would just take the damn compliment, but it’s LupJig and banter is one of their love languages.

When Lupin says it, he typically is playing the quip straight and fondly giving Jigen shit for showing an Emotion and motherFUCKER I just realized Jigen could probably be considered a tsundere. I hate this. ANYWAY. Jigen then immediately snarks back that yes, Lupin, considering we’ve been travelling the world together and actively fucking for X years, it’d be damn awkward if I didn’t by now.

13) Who initiates duets? and who is the better singer?

Lupin absolutely initiates duets, or rather, he tries to; whether or not Jigen actually chimes in is another matter entirely. Lupin is also the better singer by far (when he’s sober). He loves singing along to pop and rock in the car (“This is the reason God invented America!”).

Much as it would please me personally to give Jigen a smooth operatic baritone, there’s no way in hell he sounds good after smoking a pack a day for twenty-something years. I think Jigen can carry a tune and he’s a decent hummer and whistler, but his singing voice isn’t spectacular.

Lupin occasionally succeeds in getting Jigen to join him in car karaoke, though as in all things, Lupin is much louder and more impassioned. Jigen frequently hums along under his breath, though, and Lupin loves hearing Jigen’s a cappella renditions of classical music (complete with hand motions).

When Queen starts becoming popular, car singalongs become much more involved because it’s MY silly headcanon and You Are Not Immune To Queen. Jigen cried the first time he heard “Bohemian Rhapsody” and he will kill Lupin if he ever tells Goemon or, God forbid, Fujiko. When the four of them are in the car it’s a full-on Wayne’s World headbanging party. (Pops is the drunk guy they pick up along the way. Also, seeing Payless Shoe Source in this clip dealt me psychic damage.)

Lupin and Jigen (and Goemon) are the living embodiment of the drunk friends singing “Sweet Caroline” post, and Jigen is specifically this version of “Sweet Caroline”.

17) Who is more protective?

THAT IS THE QUESTION, HUH, GHOST? Jigen’s job and, to a certain degree, raison d’être is protecting Lupin, but (to cheat slightly and quote your own DM to me), if you think Lupin won’t raze everything to the ground to keep Jigen (and the others) safe, you don’t know him at all. They are this meme to the deepest of faults. They are both so desperately afraid of losing what they have (and in Lupin’s case, this is tinged with a bonus, even more concerning “what is his”) that they will go full self-sacrificing, scorched-earth policy. This is, in fact, my favorite reason for Lupin to do the worst thing he does: fake his own death to protect his partners. Lupin never stops to think that maybe, JUST MAYBE, he should trust his partners to fake grief and keep the secret long enough for whoever’s on their tail to give up or let their guard slip. Lupin is willing to hurt them in an effort to protect them, so in that way, I suppose Lupin is the “most” “protective”. Jigen’s self-abasement to the point of unhesitating and perhaps even hasty sacrifice is painful, too, but Jigen would never dare go to the same level of deception (except in Goodbye, Partner, apparently? But 1) I haven’t watched it yet and 2) while awful, I still feel like fake betrayal pales in comparison to very convincingly (AND MAYBE REPEATEDLY) faked death).

19) Who drives and who has the window seat?

They split driving duties, but Lupin genuinely loves driving and Jigen is more than happy to prop his feet on the Fiat’s dashboard and smoke or sleep the hours away.

23) Who thinks they are not good enough for the other’s love? and who’s more afraid of losing the other? Who thinks they keep messing up, only for the other to tell them they don’t need to worry?

HERE WE GO AGAIN!!! I think the answer to all of these is ultimately Jigen, but that’s not to say Lupin doesn’t share the exact same worries.

Jigen has a very difficult time believing that his partners’ love is genuine, and since Lupin is the one he knew first, that’s where it first manifests. Jigen has had very, very few good romantic connections in his life (if any). He doesn’t know what Lupin could possibly see in an older, prickly hired killer with a drinking problem and a head full of demons. He’s willing to believe that Lupin keeps him around for his skills, for protection, and for sex, sure, but anything past that? Doubtful. This ties into the other two parts of the question: Jigen is afraid that if he fails in his sharpshooting or his protection, he will be cut out of the gang, or worse, Lupin will end up dead because Jigen slipped up. As mentioned in question 17, Jigen cannot bear to lose Lupin and he would never forgive himself if he believed it was somehow his fault. Accordingly, Jigen takes “failure” that exceeds his usual margin of error very seriously in the early days. Later, he is better about this, but the worst-case scenario still stands.

Lupin, on the other hand, has had plenty of romantic connections, some good, some bad, though it is perhaps telling that Fujiko is his longest romantic relationship other than Jigen. He is afraid that if he doesn’t put on the world’s greatest show at all times, no one will give a rat’s ass about some scrawny grandson of an old French thief (or the perhaps unwanted/disliked son of a ruthless crime lord, because I love that fanon for Lupin the Second). He must live up to and indeed surpass the previous Lupins, he must shower his partners in money and adventure, he must always, always come out on top no matter how south the plan goes, or else what is the point of him? It takes time for him to turn his persona off for more than a few seconds, to let the quieter, sometimes contemplative side that slips through the cracks come to rest out in the open. Years down the road, Jigen finally gets up the courage and the words to tell Lupin that he would love him no matter what he did or where he went, even if that was nothing and nowhere. And again, see question 17 re: losing Jigen.

29) Who does some crazy stunt to try and impress the other and who ends up driving them to the emergency room after it backfires?

Lupin is by far the most guilty of this. He’s constantly pulling dumb shit, whether that be for World-Renowned Gentleman Thief reasons or just He May Be Stupid reasons. Case in point: the tunnel scene in The First, after which Jigen was duly impressed. Fortunately for Lupin, Lady Luck must be head over heels for him because the bastard keeps surviving, but sometimes even she can’t save him from medical consequences. Jigen bulk-ordered “Stupid Hurts” band-aids specifically for Lupin. Jigen’s bad choices are more likely to literally backfire on him, but Goemon more than makes up for Jigen’s slack in the Crazy Stunt department.

#I CARE THEY #hope this is comprehensible bc i honestly cannot tell #i have many thoughts on these two human disasters #lupin iii #jigen #asks #the-golden-ghost #long post #meta #I GUESS #can you believe i wrote five pages of meta about 1970s comedy anime characters? fucking hell. i love this fandom.#ship meme

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lfcology · 4 years ago

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you’ll float too | fred weasley

summary: another part of the phobia series. FRED LIVES AU! two years after the war, victoire weasley is turning 1 year old! hermione plans the party with muggle surprises including a clown -- something you’ve had a crippling fear of since you were a child. fred is a bit insecure.

pairing: Fem!Reader x Fred.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: None besides the fear of the clowns.

When the war was over, and all the rubble was gone, everyone in the Wizarding World did their best to return to any sense of normality they could. For Hermione and Ron that meant finally exploring a relationship together. For Fred and George, it meant opening up the shop again. Bill and Fleur however had arguably the most exciting change of all.

A year after so many lives were lost, little Victoire Weasley was brought into the world. Molly and Arthur made it their goal to spoil the first Weasley grandchild like no other and all of the siblings were enamoured by the tiny angel. Her hair was a gorgeous blonde that matched her mother’s, but her eyes held the Weasley mischief inherited from her father.

Charlie made it a point to move closer after the war and being away for so long and Percy made sure to stop by every Sunday after he made amends (Molly welcomed her boy back with open arms). Fred was one of the only constants in your life over the years so when he asked for you to move into the flat above the shop with him and George, it was a no brainer. Family time was at an all-time high for the Weasleys so with Victoire's first birthday approaching it was going to be a monumental celebration.

Hermione suggested she plan the party so Bill and Fleur could finally have some much-needed rest (for once). As expected, she was an excellent party planner. Everything was mapped out but the most exciting part for her was her plan to incorporate some muggle traditions into the party. With the Weasleys having never experienced muggle treats like blowing out candles, pinãtas, or (your least favourite) clowns. You were over the moon to be part of this special day, however, when she mentioned bringing a clown you knew you couldn't go. Without thinking, you made up a quick apology as to why you couldn't attend – something about needing to work, covering a shift for someone on short notice.

Being muggle-born meant you were exposed to clowns at a fairly young age through carnivals, parades and parties. You were never overly fond of them, always finding them quite strange but when a friend of yours suggested you read Stephen Kings It, you despised them. They scared you in a way you could barely put into words. From their laughs to their makeup and wigs, it made your skin crawl. As much as you hated them, however, you knew how excited everyone else was to have this muggle experience: Fred and George specifically.

Once Hermione had explained to them that the whole purpose was to tell jokes and make people laugh, the twins were hooked. Much to your dismay, this meant they didn't stop talking about it around the flat and both had quite the pouts when you said you couldn't go (they were almost convincing enough to make you change your mind).

"You've never worked a Saturday until now," Fred said as he crossed his arms. "Can't someone else cover? Why does it have to be you?"

You sighed from your spot in the bath. You'd set up a lovely spa evening for yourself as Fred was supposed to be working late like he did every Friday. However, 10 minutes into your bubble bath and champagne time, he was home and questioning you. You two had been dating for 2 years and friends for even longer so it wasn't hard for him to tell you were hiding something.

"It's a scheduling mistake I made." You shrugged. "It's too late to get someone to cover."

His only reply was a not so intimidating scowl. Which made you sigh and sit up from the tub a bit more (the bubbles hiding all the important stuff). "Everyone else will be there Freddie, it'll be okay." Fred sat on the closed toilet seat and undid his tie from around his neck. He was tired from a busy work week and didn't feel like arguing with you but he wanted answers.

"Georgie and I are closing the shop for it.... 'Mione is getting time off from the Ministry too. Even Harry ended an Auror mission early!" You rubbed your temples and sighed: if there was one thing about Fred Weasley, it was that he was stubborn as hell. What you didn't expect however, was what he said next.

"Listen, George thinks it's something else but you're hiding something and avoiding me and-" He sighed looking away from you as his shoulders sagged. "Are you cheating on me?"

You stared at him with your mouth agape. Did he have so little faith in you? You needed to make sure he knew the truth ASAP – you never meant your white lie to lead to this. "I never meant to-" You began.

"Who is it?" He asked, jaw clenching.

"Fred-" You said getting up and wrapping yourself in a towel. "I would-" He tried to cut you off again but you'd had enough of him pointing fingers. "I'm scared of clowns!" You all but shouted at him.

He was confused, to say the least.

"What?"

"I'm scared of clowns." You repeated more firmly as you walked closer to him. He was still quite speechless, to be honest, he'd prepared himself for the worst after all. Fred, despite many thinking he was incredibly carefree, overthought absolutely everything. George tried to be a voice of reason and calm him down but once the idea of you hiding something from him entered his mind – it spiralled.

"Freddie, I would never ever cheat on you. You're the only one I'll ever want." You reassured as you stroked his shoulders. He sat up straight and looked up at you from where you stood between his legs. "I knew you and Georgie were excited about the clown coming so I didn't want to ruin the mood and mention that they scared me." You said softly.

His hands found their way to your hips and he ducked his head in embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry... I didn't mean to assume the worst but you know how I can be sometimes." He chuckled sheepishly. "You wouldn't have ruined the fun love, I'm sure if we mention it to Hermione she can cancel the clown."

"No!" You interjected. "Victoire will probably love it and I don't plan on ruining even more peoples fun..."

"Victoire also loves you," Fred reassured and squeezed your hips gently. "And she may not remember her first birthday but I'm sure she'd rather see you in the photos than a grown man dressed up in a silly costume."

You leaned down and kissed his softly feeling relieved for the first time in a while – he always had a way with words. "Why don't we change into some PJs then talk about why you're scared of them?"

Fred, having so many siblings, was extremely good when it came to being open and communicating one's fears and dreams. The pair of you got into comfier clothes (you donned in one of his old quidditch sweaters for an extra sense of comfort when discussing such a daunting subject). Once you two were settled on the double bed you shared, you reached under and pulled out a worn down box. Inside you found a few knickknacks that never found a place when you moved in with Fred and a tattered copy of It. Despite being the bane of your existence it looked well-loved from being lent out to friends, cried on and thrown around over the years.

"This is It." You said laying the book in your lap. Fred quirked his eyebrow in confusion and took the book as you explained more. "When I was younger, my friend suggested I read this. It's about an evil killer clown named Pennywise."

Fred nodded along and read the description on the back of the book. His brows furrowed in concentration as he looked through the worn-out pages.

"This does seem rather frightening." He said after you looked at him expectantly. "Especially if you read this as a kid!" You nodded and felt relief wash over you when he didn't laugh or make fun. You'd always thought it was a stupid fear to have – something that was meant to bring joy to people ended up terrifying you.

"What really got me was the film." You began. "There's a muggle adaptation and seeing the clown made it so much more real." You shivered as you explained.

"I reckon I could take him." He said puffing his chest out proudly. It wasn't what you expected him to say but when has Fred Weasley ever been one that someone can easily read? Your hand came up to your mouth and you stifled a giggle.

"In what way?" You teased.

"Well, in terms of comedy I've got him beat hands down! Eating kids isn't funny so I reckon he's a terrible clown." He replied not quite understanding that you were egging him on. He was more focused on proving his superiority over Pennywise. "And phyically! I'm 6'4" and even though I don't play Quidditch as regularly anymore I don't doubt I'm still more fit than some old cannibal git."

You couldn't hold back your booming chuckles anymore and leaned back in bed laughing as he stood up. "I'll give him the one-two Weasley special!" He continued as he adjusted his PJs more comfortably. The contagious smile on your face was enough to tell him that his plan was working.

"He'd try to-" He took a bite of the air as if Pennywise was biting at him. "And I'd-" He followed up with a swing of his arm and a kick of his leg.

"My hero..." You said climbing off the bed and hugging him around his middle. He gave you a dimply smile and pressed his lips to yours quickly. "'M the only clown allowed in your life. I promise to fight off all the others."

"You have got the red hair and pale skin after all." You chuckled poking him in the side.

"Don't act like you wouldn't let me bite you." He replied cheekily.

By the time the next day came you felt much more at ease with Fred knowing how you felt. The icing on the cake was that the clown wasn't funny at all. Fred and George stepped in to do their own show after the comedy flop and the finale was Fred challenging the other clown to a brawl before sending a wink your way. Victoire had the time of her life and unanimously everyone agreed that the twins were a much more fitting form of entertainment.

Maybe clowns aren’t so bad after all.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley oneshot #harry potter #weasley family x reader #phobia series

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sainz-zayn · 4 years ago

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Constant love (Up to you)

He always asks for your consent and leaves everything up to you.

Warnings: Insecurities, suggestive themes, virginity loss, a little pyhsical violence.

Word count: 3k+

Disclaimer: All characters and event in this story even those based on real people are entirely fictional.

This Story is Inspired by the song: Up to you

By: Prettymuch ft. Nct Dream

But in a little more mature way.

Jungwoo is your boyfriend for almost three years and you couldn`t ask for more than his love and affection. You`re always happy when you`re with him you love the way his eyes lit up whenever he sees you.

Your favorite thing to do with him is cuddling or either cooking. Jungwoo loves skinship so much like holding your hands every time or back hugging you. You always love it when he`s clingy but sometimes you feel like you`re being unfair to him because he always asks for your consent when he wants to do something that can make you uncomfortable even though he`s been dating you for years now.

You feel sad or sometimes guilty when you can`t give him what he needs as a man. Which leaves him sexually frustrated but that doesn`t stop him from loving you dearly. Jungwoo knows that you`re still not ready and he respects that. He`s ready to wait until you`re ready.

"Y/n, are you okay?" You look at your side to see Joy talking to you.

"Yeah, why?" You asked her before grabbing a glass full of water.

"You Kinda look down today, to be honest." Joy looks at you with worried eyes, She looks at what you`re staring and now she knows why.

You don`t know why but your anxiety is attacking you again. Yes, when it comes to your relationship with Jungwoo you`re always insecure. Your eyes wander to Jungwoo and Seohyun, you wonder if Jungwoo is enjoying his time with her. Your biggest fear is losing him or someday he`ll leave you.

"You`re fidgeting your fingers again Y/n. There`s no need to be jealous, you know that Jungwoo loves you and only you." Joy said reassuringly.

"We both know how much I don`t like Seohyun right? like she`s always getting on my nerves. Also, don`t forget what she did to us in High School." Yeah, you and a few of the boys know that Seohyun is a bully back in High school and Jungwoo doesn`t know that.

"I know, I know now calm down we should leave and go somewhere else before anything happens" You and the other girls leave Taeyong's house before going to the mall.

You enjoy the time that you have with them. Y`all eat anything that you want to taste and wandering around the mall to buy new clothes and dressing the girls to the point that you didn`t realize what time it is.

-*-

It`s currently 11:00 pm when you open your phone. Because you forgot that you turned it off before leaving Jungwoo at Taeyong`s house.

"Oh shit!" You whisper to yourself so the other girls won`t worry about you.

30 missed calls!? 50 unread messages!? from Jungwoo. You`re surely dead when you get home.

"Guys I have to go or else you know what will gonna happen" You just hug them before leaving first. You`re kinda nervous to go home because you`re sure that Jungwoo is waiting for you to come home.

-*-

Jungwoo is so worried that he called you 30 times but still no answer nor text, and what makes him even madder is that you leave without telling him or texting him. That's how he ended up drinking, he doesn`t know why but he just wants to.

"Where have you been!?" You`re startled at your boyfriend's loud voice.

"I-I just go out with the g-" He cut off your words without letting you explain.

"Without telling me!? Do you know how worried I was!? It`s fucking late at night and there you are enjoying your time with your best friends. Completely forgetting that you have a boyfriend that is waiting for you!" You just look down because you know that he`s right.

"Baby I`m sorry I forgot to turn on my phone. Trust me I don`t have any intention to purposely ignore your calls and text.” You plead.

"Even though I`m jealous that your spending more time with Seohyun than me" You whispered the last part so he won't hear it but he did.

"What?" His eyes soften realizing what you feel and why you leave.

"What`s, what?" You asked him while your eyes are wandering around to avoid his gaze.

"N-nothing" He stuttered and you wonder what`s with the sudden change in his attitude.

"I`m sorry for raising my voice at you" He said.

"Did you drink?" You asked him softly before putting the bag on the couch.

"Yeah, a little I just need something to accompany me while waiting for you" He said and he peppered you with his kisses starting from your forehead, cheeks, lips, and neck.

Jungwoo doesn`t know what has gotten into him. He let his body talk, he caresses your back softly and the two of you stayed in the same position for at least a minute.

"I`m sorry I don`t know what has gotten into me. I`m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable" He said and clear his throat. You turn around to face him. You`re sad that you can`t give it to him but sooner or later you have to.

"No, don`t worry baby it`s okay." You tell him and you can see the disappointment that he tried to hide but you can see it in his eyes.

" I`ll leave it up to you if you wanna spend the night when the time is right." You`re happy that he`s trying to comfort you even though he didn`t get what he wants from you. That is why you`re insecure about yourself, what if he`s not happy anymore because he`s always waiting for you. You hate that you still take your time even though you`re ready.

"Just remember that whenever you`re comfortable we can make that move" Jungwoo sigh before giving you a peck on the lips.

"Let`s go to sleep now baby, you must be tired."

The two of you enter your share bedroom and after a minute of laying on the bed Jungwoo falls into a deep sleep.

-*-

You wakeup without Jungwoo on your side and you feel sadder at what happened last night. He leaves early today I thought he said, he doesn`t have any schedule for the whole week but why is he gone?

Does he already eat breakfast or he leaves without eating breakfast? Jungwoo knows that you hate it when he`s not eating breakfast you'll always say.

"It`s okay to skip lunch or dinner, breakfast is the most important but it doesn't mean that you should skip dinner and lunch just because I say it`s okay to skip it." and he will just stay quiet because he loves it when you`re showing your motherly side.

You`re cellphone vibrates and you saw a Dm notification from an unknown person. You quickly check it and you're surprised at what you saw. You don`t know if you should cry or you should be mad, you should be... You don`t know anymore.

You look at the picture again to make sure you didn`t saw the wrong person but it`s real, it`s Jungwoo with Seohyun they look happy together.

"Nothing is going on, right? hanging out with a girl is normal. Calm down Y/n, you know is Jungwoo is not capable of what you`re thinking." You said to yourself to make you calm down.

"Here we go again! Y/n stop being insecure about yourself" You whisper at yourself and after long thinking, you just let them maybe Jungwoo have something important to do with her and that`s not bad.

-*-

"Hey, I know right he`s super handsome and I`ve been watching his dramas and movies. Don`t tell this to win-win but they have similarities" Joy is fangirling through the phone and saying how much he loves this one actor name Im Siwan.

"I know right plus he`s attractive no doubt he`s your type" You stifled your laugh because you`re teasing her about her liking him.

"Yeah, yeah whatever" Joy said.

"I know that you`re rolling your eyes at me now even though I can`t see you Joy" You replied.

"Oh my god, how did you know? are you a psychic now Y/n, or are you stalking me? cause the last time I remember you`re a surgeon" She said changing her tone into a playful one.

"Oh, c`mon shut up!" The two of you laugh in unison when the door suddenly burst open.

"Joy I gotta go, bye love you." you end the call without letting joy bid her goodbye.

"I`m home" Jungwoo walks to the sofa to kiss you but you turn your head to the side making his soft lips land on your cheek.

"Hey, you okay?" He asked with disappointment in his eyes.

"Yes, I`m fine" You replied dryly.

"Uhm... Whom are you with earlier?" You asked with hesitation in your voice.

"I`m with the boys" He said while rubbing his temples softly.

So you`re lying now? How could you?

"Yeah right with the boys" and you smiled at him and he can see that something is off with you today.

"Can`t you just tell me what is wrong? I`m really tired right now I don`t want any problem to add up." He said making you offended.

"Okay, then I`m sorry if I`m causing you a problem just by asking you a simple question that you didn`t answer honestly. Now, Kim Jungwoo I`ll ask you the same question again I swear if you still answer the same thing I`ll leave!" He`s taken aback at your sudden outburst making him gulp. Yes, he lied it`s because he thinks that it will be better if you won`t know anything that happened earlier.

"Okay, I swear I`m with the boys but if you`re talking about this morning. I`m with Seohyun" You're trying so hard to control your jealousy right now because you want an explanation from him.

"W-why?" you stuttered.

"It`s because, because..." Jungwoo doesn`t know how to explain it but you need to know.

"It`s because of what Kim Jungwoo? are you fucking cheating on me!?" Your patience can`t wait anymore but you didn`t mean what you have just said to him.

"W-what!? of course not. Why would I do that when I`m completely contented just by having you." He exclaimed.

"Now let me explain and hear me out." He explained everything that happened this morning and you feel guilty for thinking that he`s cheating on you.

He said that he meets Seohyun this morning because he wants to personally talk to her. To make her stay away from him because Seohyun is hitting on him despite knowing that he has a girlfriend.

-*-

"I`m sorry" You whispered while caressing Jungwoo`s hand. You gave him a short kiss on his forehead before standing up.

"You don`t need to be sorry, baby." You`re startled at his voice. Oh, you know how much you like hearing Jungwoo`s morning voice.

"You know that I can wait until you are ready right? because that is not the reason why we are in this relationship." Jungwoo taps the other side of the bed signaling you to lay on it again.

"I know baby but I can`t let you be like this you always leave everything up to me even though we`re dating for years now." You scoot closer to his embrace.

"You don`t need to rush yourself we can do it albeit slowly" Jungwoo said making you more comfortable in his embrace.

"I love you, Jungwoo" You said.

"I love you too. By the way, get ready I`ll be picking you up at 8:00 pm" He said.

He`s waiting for you to greet him but nothing. He wonders if you forget what day it is. But no, you didn`t forget it, it`s is a special occasion for the two of you.

"Okay baby" you smile sheepishly at him.

Tomorrow is your 3rd anniversary and you`re more than happy to celebrate it with him.

-*-

You wear your favorite black dress, Which goes above your knee and perfectly hugging your curves.

"Tonight is the night Y/n, no need to be nervous" You said to yourself at the exact time you heard a car honk outside your house. You hurriedly go downstairs and you see Jungwoo leaning on his car with a bright smile.

"You look gorgeous as ever, babe." He said before opening the car door for you.

"Where are we going tonight?" You asked him still acting like you forget what day it is today.

"At the club, they are waiting for us today are you sure you didn`t forget anything?" he tried to point out and he`s so obvious that he`s looking for an answer.

"No why?" you asked.

"Nothing" he smiled and you wonder how long you can keep up with this thing.

"Baby we`re here" Jungwoo said and he gets out of the car to open the door for you.

"Thank you" you kiss him and the two of you go inside the club.

"What's up dude!" you heard mark greeting Jungwoo with a fist bomb.

"Y/n! Y/n" You heard Joy and Irene calling you by whispering your name.

"Tonight is the night there`s no more turning back since today is a special occasion for you and Jungwoo." Irene said and she gives you a teasing wink.

"I know that`s why I`m all dolled up today" You said and you met Jungwoo`s intense gaze. To the point that you can`t help but blush, you approach Jungwoo and he opens his arms for you to hug him.

"Happy anniversary baby I love you so much" And he pulls you into a more tight hug you can`t help but smile while inhaling his manly scent.

"I thought you forgot about it" He leaves a kiss on your forehead and you look up at him.

"I would never forget this day Jungwoo, this is a very important day for us" You smiled and he let go of you to grab a drink.

"C`mon guys let`s have a toast for the two love birds here!" Jaehyun said making Mayjun stifle her smile because of Jaehyun`s cuteness.

You raised your glass too for everyone to follow when the guy that is with Seohyun said something disrespectful that makes Jungwoo`s blood boil in anger.

"Who is that sexy girl?" The guy said at Seohyun.

"Oh, that? she`s Y/n. Now, can we stop talking about her it`s annoying

"She looks sexy I wonder how good she is in bed" The guy said.

Jungwoo heard it and that is his breaking point he grabs the collar of the guy making everyone shocked.

"What did you just fucking say!?" Jungwoo asked and he can`t control his emotion and everything happened so fast. The guy punches him and the guy got punch by Jungwoo and he fell to the ground.

Doyoung and Jaehyun quickly hold Jungwoos Shoulder to stop him from fighting the guy.

"Babe, Calm down" You look at him worriedly and the little cut on his lips is bleeding.

"Watch your man!" The guy said with a perverted gaze on you.

"You should watch your mouth!" Jungwoo fights back and he tried to remove Jaehyun and Doyoung's hands on him. And he did it, he punch the guy for one last time before grabbing your wrist to run away from the crowd.

Your friends look confused but they managed to block the guy that is ready to chase the both of you.

"Kim Jungwoo!" You warn him but his giggles echo through the halls and you laugh with him while happily running.

"How can you laugh right now when you`re completely hurt?" and the two of you stop in front of the elevator and you go inside it. He looks at you as if you`re his whole world.

"Because I`m always happy when I`m with you" He drags you into a room and you`re heavy breathing right now.

"I checked us in, in this hotel we can rest here for the night and also that door." he point to a white door. “It is connected to Jaehyun`s and Mayjun`s room so it`s easy for us to communicate and their room is connected to Johnny and Yoona`s room.” He said and kisses you on the lips. You`re not even shocked at why he knows the hotel so well, it`s because cause he owns it.

"C`mon I`ll treat your cut on the lips" and you drag him in the bathroom to clean it.

You lean more closer to him, even though the two of you is dating now for three years he's always fluttered when ever you`re being affectionate. Just in time he quickly pulled you into a passionate kiss making you shocked.

"Nobody`s watching I got you all alone no Interruptions, it`s hard for me to hold my own and hold back" He said and his forehead is leaning to mine.

"Tonight I don`t want you to hold back baby" You whispered in his ears seductively.

"Before we hit the road if you ain`t ready to go, just tell me that you`re sure." He said with sincerity in his voice.

"Tonight you can do whatever you want" You said back.

"Just wanna make sure, you`re sure" He smiled and he's now touching your legs slowly.

"Remember when you said to me that "If you wanna spend the night when the time is right". That night is tonight baby" You hold his hands slowly guiding them to your waist.

"The distance between you and me, is it okay this close?" He asked you while slowly taking his time to understand what`s happening right now.

"I will keep up with your step, so nothing to worry about" He added.

With that, he kisses you passionately everything about the kiss says it all. Love, lust, and needs.. Jungwoo carries you to the bed and he loosens the tie of his suit.

"Ain`t no pressure but we can keep this right here if you want me to stop baby" He said again. Oh gosh, why does he always ask for your consent.

"Tonight I`m so tired of making you stop and denying you baby so there`s no turning back" The softness and neediness in your voice are so obvious.

"If you`re down and you`re ready to rock, I`m not gonna make you stop." He replied seductively making you bite your lips in anticipation.

"I can`t hold back now baby" He said.

"Then don`t hold back" you said.

"That`s it, enough talking, and let`s do this"

He covers the two of you with the blanket and he makes sure that his name is the only thing that will come out of your beautiful lips.

Meanwhile, in the other room, someone is complaining.

"What the fuck!? I know that my two best friend is enjoying their time but I need to sleep too" Mayjun said covering herself with a pillow making Jaehyun laugh at her.

"Shut up Jung Jaehyun!" And he did stay quiet.

"Okay, now I have an idea mayjun to make you sleep" Jaehyun peppered Mayjun with kisses.

"Oh, shut up your horny ass jaehyun!" and mayjun throws the pillow at him.

"C`mon Kim Jungwoo! I swear shut the fuck up!" Jaehyun yelled so that you and Jungwoo can hear them.

-*-

You and Jungwoo laugh at them and you clean yourself and change with new clothes.

"I`m sorry! you can now sleep peacefully!" You yelled back at them making Jungwoo laugh and nod his head a little.

"Thank you, babe, or else my boyfriend won`t stop bothering me" Mayjun yelled making the four of you laugh.

"Let`s sleep now baby you must be tired because of daddy" Jungwoo said with a smirk.

"Stop with the dirty jokes Kim Jungwoo" you slap his arms playfully.

"Okay, okay good night I love you" He said with sweetness in his voice.

"I love you too baby only you" and you kiss him on the lips.

Consent is one of the most important things in a relationship and you`re lucky that you have Kim Jungwoo the one and only man of your life and will always be. And that`s how your constant or endless love relationship with Jungwoo last more than you could Imagine.

#kim jungwoo #jungwoo #nct 127 smut #nct 127 #nct dream #nctu #jungwoo smut #jungwoo angst #jungwoo fluff #wayv

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