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ahqkas · 3 months ago

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♯ CIGARETTES OUT THE WINDOW ; tate langdon

PAIRING! tate langdon x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! a brown eyed boy with messy hair and pretty smile from the neighborhood offers to light up a cigarette for you

WORD COUNT! 2.7k

WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, heavy mention of cigarettes and smoking, mentions of reader struggling mentally, + lmk of more if found

NOTES! i need a pretty brown eyed boy with messy hair to light my cigarette for me . all the credits to the devider below belong to @/v6que !!

IF CIGARETTES WERE SO BAD FOR YOU, WHY WERE YOU CRAVING THEM LIKE YOUR MOTHER'S TOUCH OR YOUR FATHER'S ATTENTION? How something so small, so seemingly insignificant, could wield such power over you? That finely cut paper filled with cured tobacco leaves caused serious damage to your physical health yet it improved the state of your mind.

When you held it against your lips and took the first drag, it felt like the first breath you take after being underwater for too long. A rush of adrenaline along with relief, if only for a moment. The nicotine coursed through your veins, wrapping around your brain like the softest of dreams and you ached to reach for it again and again like a child for a hand that was never there. You knew it was killing you slowly, each inhale wrapping around your lungs as if shadow marred its very own presence and each exhale a reminder of the damage you were doing.

The warnings were there, on every pack.

It wasn't the act alone that hooked you so hard. The feeling of what the cigarette provided was the real deal. You lit up to quiet the voices in your mind, to numb the ache of loneliness, to dull the reminders of your repeating days. The bitterness of the tobacco, the way it scorched your throat and left a lingering taste on your tongue, was a small price to pay for the way it soothed your soul, however briefly.

And it was brief — each cigarette only lasted a few minutes. But those minutes were precious. They were yours, and in a life where so much felt out of control, that small sense of ownership was everything. You were the one who decided when to light up, when to take that first drag, when to exhale and watch the smoke curl into the air, disappearing like the worries you wished would do the same.

The night was cool, the air heavy with the damp scent of earth and the faint aroma of wood smoke coming from your neighbor's chimney. It was one of those nights when you felt like your shoulders were loaded with such a burden that there was no way out. At least the night sky didn't disappoint with its beauty — millions, billions of stars were flickering upon the darkness, shining brighter with each passing minute. You sat on the porch steps of your new house, your knees drawn up to your chest and a cigarette dangling loosely between your fingers.

You felt the coolness of the unlit cigarette against your fingertips, the promise it held lingering in the back of your mind. It was as if time had paused, the night holding its breath alongside you. You toyed with the idea, rolling the cigarette gently between your fingers, feeling the slight bumps of the packed tobacco inside. There was a certain comfort in just holding it — a familiarity, a sense of control over something so small.

The porch light cast a soft, golden glow around your form, but beyond that, the yard was swallowed by shadows.

Should you light it? The thought lingered, heavy and persistent, as you stared at the fragile cylinder in your hand. Your parents disapproved of their children smoking and the thoughts of disappointing them felt too heavy for you. You brought the unlit cigarette to your lips, mind spinning with thoughts you couldn't quite grasp. Everything felt too much — too heavy, too overwhelming. You were suffocating under the weight of it all, and this cigarette, this tiny thing, felt like the only tether to the world you could control. The cool paper pressed against your teeth, offering a strange comfort.

For a moment, you just held it there, as if the act of lighting it would be too final, too irreversible. The familiar scent of tobacco teased your senses, but something held you back. The night's stillness, the way the shadows seemed to reach out toward you, and the deep sense of unease that had settled in your chest all seemed to whisper, not yet.

Then, the creak of the porch door behind you shattered the fragile silence. Your heart skipped a beat, fear spiking through you as you imagined your parents standing there, their disapproving eyes catching you in this vulnerable moment. Panic washed over you, the cigarette trembling slightly between your fingers as you fumbled with it, trying to keep the drug out of sight. You couldn't bear the thought of facing them, of explaining what you couldn't even fully understand yourself.

But when you finally found the courage to turn around, it wasn't your parents. Relief flooded your system immediately as you saw Tate standing there, his figure half-illuminated by the porch light, half-swallowed by the darkness behind him. He always had a way of appearing just when you needed him, like a ghost materializing out of thin air. Without a word, Tate slid down beside you, the movement smooth and quiet. The space between the two of you shrank until your shoulders brushed and his knee knocked into yours softly in greeting.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence between you was thick but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that made you yearn for the person's presence because you liked how they made you feel.

And Tate made you feel good in a way that was hard to put into words. It wasn't just his presence, though that alone was enough to soothe the twisted edges of your thoughts. It was the way he understood you without the need for explanations, the way he could step into your personal space and fill it with a quiet strength that seemed to steady everything around you. Tate made you feel good because with him, you felt whole, like all the broken parts of you could finally be mended.

You kept your gaze ahead on the darkness of the yard, occasionally glancing at your hands, all while feeling the weight of the boy's eyes on you. He was watching you, or perhaps analyzing your actions, but the weight wasn't heavy. With him, everything seemed easy.

He was the one to break the silence with his voice low, sounding like gravel sliding over stone. "You shouldn't smoke, you know. It's bad for you."

Huffing a soft, bitter laugh, the sound escaped your lips as a faint, misty cloud in the cool night air as your eyes flicked toward him, catching his gaze through the veil of your dark eyelashes. There was a hint of pure amusement in your expression. "It's pretty ironic coming from you," you murmured, voice laced with a touch of mockery. You looked down at the unlit cigarette, rolling it once more between your fingers.

"But it's not like it matters, right?" you continued, your tone shifting to something softer, almost wistful. "It's just . . . something to do."

You shrugged, the gesture small and almost unnoticable, as if trying to dismiss the meaning of what you had just said. But the words you wanted to say lingered in the air between you. It wasn't just about the cigarette — it was about the need to fill the void, to occupy the empty spaces that stretched out endlessly in your life. It was about finding something, anything, to hold onto when everything else felt so fragile.

Tate's brown irises flickered with something you couldn't quite place — a glimmer of understanding, maybe. It was as if he saw through your casual words, past the nonchalance you tried to project, and into the deeper, more vulnerable parts of you that you kept hidden from the entire world.

He understood you as if you were two sides of the same coin.

The boy didn't say anything at first, just watched you with that steady, unreadable gaze that seemed to pull at the edges of your carefully constructed facade. Then, with a slow movement, Tate reached into the pocket of his flannel shirt, the faint rustle of fabric the only sound breaking the quietness surrounding you. He withdrew a lighter, its polished metal surface catching the porch light for a split second, casting a brief flash of brightness that contrasted sharply with the darkness around you. The lighter was simple, a worn silver Zippo with a few scratches along its surface — evidence of years of use, of countless times it had been flicked open to ignite a flame.

Tate's movements were smooth and practiced as he flicked the lighter open, the familiar click of the metal lid snapping back echoing softly in the still night air. The sound was almost comforting in its predictability, a stark difference to the unpredictability of your thoughts and emotions. A small flame grew to life, its warm, golden light flickering gently as it cast a soft glow on Tate's face, illuminating the chiseled lines of his jawline and nose, and the softer curve of his lips. His skin, usually pale, seemed to take on a warm hue in the firelight, adding a touch of color to the otherwise cool tones that seemed to follow him wherever he went. And his hair, a tousled mess of blond curls that framed his face, caught the light as well, the strands turning golden where the flame touched them, adding a softness to his otherwise sharp features. The way his hair fell, slightly over his forehead and around his ears, gave him a boyish look that contrasted with the haunted expression in his eyes, which made him seem both young and impossibly old at the same time.

You hesitated, eyes locked on the flame, mesmerized by its hypnotic dance. It was such a small thing, yet it held so much power — the power to transform, to ignite, to bring both comfort and destruction. You could feel the warmth radiating from it. Tate waited, patient and unwavering, for you to make a move. He wasn't pushing you to make a decision, wasn't trying to influence your choice. He was simply there, offering you the possibility.

You brought the cigarette to rest between your lips, your hand steady despite the slight tremor in your stomach. Leaning in closer to the flame, you could feel the heat brushing against your cheeks, a whisper of warmth that contrasted sharply with the cool night air. The flame licked at your face, casting fleeting shadows across your features as you drew in a slow, deliberate breath, all while your eyes remained locked with the boy who seemed like he fell straight out of your dreams.

The tip of the cigarette glowed bright orange, and for that brief moment, it felt as if the entire world had narrowed down to just that one glowing point. The burn of the tobacco was immediate, the familiar taste bitter and grounding, pulling you back from the despair. As you exhaled, a plume of smoke curled from your lips, twisting and swirling into the night air, hitting Tate's face.

"Thanks," you murmured, with your voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

In response, Tate's lips curled into a charming grin, the kind that was disarmingly boyish and just a little crooked at the corners. The smile lit up his features just like the flame did, softening the intensity of his gaze and adding a glint of warmth to his doe eyes. It was the kind of smile that made you feel like, despite the darkness and everything else that loomed over your life, there was still something good in the world — something worth holding onto.

The boy next to you leaned back, resting his elbows on the step behind him, his gaze lifting to the sky where the stars were hidden by a thick layer of dark clouds. "What's on your mind?" he asked the kind of question that didn't need an immediate answer.

He probably already knew what was swirling around in your head — Tate always seemed to know, like he had a sixth sense for the things you tried to keep buried. But still, he asked, giving you the space to say it out loud or let it hang there between the two of you, unspoken.

You sighed, nimble fingers absently rolling the cigarette between them. You tilted your head slightly, catching his profile against the dim light. You never really noticed before but, God, was he pretty. "You ever feel like you're just . . . stuck?" you began, voice soft, as if you were testing the waters. "Like no matter what you do, you're just going through the motions, waiting for something to change but not really believing it ever will?"

Tate's heart skipped a beat. You couldn't possibly know, and yet your question struck so close to the truth of his existence that it took him a moment to respond. He was stuck — stuck in this place, in this time, in this state of being. And you didn't know. You couldn't know. How could you?

For a second, he felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he only felt in your presence. He kept his gaze on the clouds, forcing himself to stay calm, to not let the surprise show in his expression. But his mind was racing, grappling with the irony of your words. You were searching for a way out of your own feeling of being stuck, while he was trapped in a far more literal sense, bound to this house with no escape.

"Yeah," the boy finally said, his voice softer, almost hesitant, as if weighing the truth he couldn't fully share. "More often than I'd like to admit."

You didn't seem to notice the tension in his voice, the subtle shift in his demeanor. You just nodded, your own thoughts wrapped up in your struggles. "It's like the world's moving on without me, and I'm just . . . here. Stuck in the same place, doing the same things, feeling the same way."

Tate's heart ached with the weight of what he couldn't tell you, the truth that he was stuck in ways you couldn't imagine. But he kept his voice steady, warm. "You're not alone in that," he said, choosing his words carefully. "We're all trying to find our way, even when it feels impossible." He glanced at you, the weight of your words still hanging in the air, and before he could think twice, he reached out and took your hand in his. His fingers wrapped around yours, warm and reassuring, and he began to slowly rub his thumb over your knuckles in small, soothing circles. The roughness of his thumb contrasted with the softness of your skin.

His steady voice broke the silence with softness. "You know," he began, his tone imbued with sincerity, "I'd never let anybody or anything hurt you. Not while I'm here."

Your gaze remained fixed on your joined hands for a moment, absorbing the seriousness and sincerity of Tate's words. The promise in his voice, the gentle assurance of his touch, created a sense of warmth that made the rest of the world seem a little less scary.

Feeling a surge of gratitude and comfort, you shifted closer to him, leaning your head against his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt felt warm against your cheek, and the subtle scent of him — something earthy and faintly comforting — surrounded you with a feeling of home. Tate was your safe place in this filthy and helpless world.

His body tensed slightly at the unexpected touch, but he quickly relaxed, his arm instinctively moving to drape over your shoulders in a protective gesture. He could feel the gentle weight of your head resting there, and it brought a sense of closeness he hadn't fully realized he needed. The feeling of having you this close was unreal.

Tate turned his head slightly, his cheek brushing against the top of your head. "You okay?"

You gave him a nod while your warm breath washed against his neck. "Yeah. I just needed this."

The two of you stayed like that for a while as the world outside seemed to fade away. The night wrapped around you like a blanket, and for a brief, perfect moment, the worries and fears that had clouded your mind disappeared, replaced by the simple, profound comfort of being close to someone who wasn't afraid to show you just how deeply he cared.

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kurishiri · 4 days ago

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15.5 . . . “ the memory engraved in my body ”

꒰ ִ ֺ ⊹ @ notice ⊹ ֺ ִ ꒱ this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— 🍷 his side story, chapter 15. this is the one you need to reach alfons bond level 22+ with in order to purchase.

— cw: alcohol consumption.

Alfons: And to see you deceived just like that——I see you don’t really hold that thing called ‘love’ for me.

Kate: ...!!

I chose words that would purposely hurt.

Just like that, her eyes wavered, teary.

Kate: I... I really, truly—!

Alfons: Loved me? ...Or what, did you mean to say love?

I asked, a mocking tone in my voice, and her palms, which had pushed against my chest, gripped tightly at my shirt, causing it to wrinkle.

It would be nice were she to throw away these feelings she had toward me on her own volition, but——

(Reality just isn’t so nice, after all.)

Kate: Just why... would you do such a thing...?

K: Why do you have to reject me so much... just over me saying ‘I love you’?

Tears fell from her cheeks as she spoke from above.

They were very much like stars falling from the night — so pure, and so beautiful.

(——So much so, it’s like the moment I touched her, I would end up getting burned.)

Kate: Not once did I say we had to be official.

K: All I wanted was to like you, and be by your side… and yet…

Alfons: …Because I find it a nuisance.

A: The fact you had fallen for me, and the fact you like me even now... all of it.

I used those sharp words to deeply pierce through her heart.

Such words seemed like such a sin toward her straightforward feelings,

and, compared to her words, which so resembled pure stars, mine were akin to shattered glass sinking down the gutters of a back alley.

Alfons: All this was meant to be was an entertainment that lasts but a month, and then letting it end the same way.

Kate left the room, and when I descended the crumbling staircase,

The friend with a wound on his eye was standing at the entrance to the hidden, dilapidated room.

Man with a wound over his eye: To think you suddenly came in with a memo saying ‘Stay at the pub until I call you. If you come then, your drink’s on me’——

Man with a wound over his eye: I was wondering what in the world was going on.

Alfons: Hehe... thank you for your cooperation on that matter.

Man with a wound over his eye: If getting perfumed and greeting a lady when she woke up was all it took for some free booze, anyone would do it.

Man with a wound over his eye: So it was to get that ‘little robin’ to give up on you?

Man with a wound over his eye: You always up and run away, fading right out, so if she could make you go to this length, well what a lady she must be.

Alfons: Indeed, you can tell me that again.

I could dodge her at every turn, push her away, but she would still put her energy into her love without so much as getting discouraged,

so left with no other choice I threw away what little of a good heart I had left to break her to pieces.

(Unable to deceive herself into thinking this wasn’t love, but instead all a misunderstanding...)

(What a poor, darling little miss robin.)

Man with a wound over his eye: If you wanted me to make love to her for real, though, I would be fine with that too.

Alfons: Now that won’t do. I’ll have you know despite all appearances, I happen to be a gentleman who despises hurting women.

Man with a wound over his eye: ...I doubt that.

Alfons: Do you now?

Man with a wound over his eye: How would I know. Well, I’ll leave the payment to you.

My friend didn’t bother to seek the truth, instead leaving the conversation like that and disappeared into the night city while laughing.

——This pub was open 24 hours, so it was lively regardless of time.

Exchanging greetings with several acquaintances and taking a seat, the bar master lifted his brow, as though exasperated.

Bar master: And here I thought you wouldn’t come back til the morning. You’re back early, aren’t you?

Alfons: I so dearly missed seeing your face, you see.

Bar master: I’m anything but happy being missed by an arsehole. Pay up for that friend of yours.

Alfons: Goodness, so cold.

While making small talk, from the back of my mind, I remembered her, who had been sitting next to me just a few hours before.

—— Flashback ——

Kate: Alfons...

K: ...I won’t put the blame on you or anything else anymore...

K: So please, make love to me.

—— End flashback ——

—— Flashback ——

Kate: Just how bloody cruel can you get...!!

K: I don’t understand, why would you lie to me like this!? Help me understand...

—— End flashback ——

She did not say, ‘Why did you do such a cruel thing’——but rather, ‘Why did you say such a lie?’

From the start, she had seen through my lie that another man had made love to her.

(...Just where did I slip up?)

(I stayed silent... could it be body temperature? Or the shape of my body? The movements? Or smell?)

At the very least——even if she couldn’t see with her eyes, she was able to confirm that it was indeed me.

All that to say, there was no doubt that the memory of me had been engraved in her body.

Bar master: That’s a pretty long face.

Alfons: That it is, could I ask for your consolations?

Bar master: Of course, this is a shop to share such things. For a price, that is. What’ll it be?

Alfons: Quite stingy now, aren’t we... well then, I’ll have a sherry perhaps. Any type is fine.

Bar master: A sherry? Not every day you get that.

Alfons: ...Is that so?

Indeed, I felt that I normally didn’t drink sherry.

That said, I sought out the intoxication from the liquor, so I wasn’t so caught up on the type it was.

Yet the name had slipped so easily out of my mouth, I tilted my head as I took the glass filled with a dark mahogany color liquor.

The moment I took in that mellow, sweet scent though, I remembered.

(Ahh... this was the liquor that she had drunk this afternoon, isn’t it.)

—— Flashback ——

Kate: I... don’t like it... when others touch you...

K: ...Whatever, I know I’m... just like a kid t’you...

—— End flashback ——

(...Considering she was downing this sweet sherry, I would say her taste is like that of a kid’s.)

When my lips met with her, who was still blindfolded, her tongue did indeed have the sweet taste of the sherry.

But, for a reason beyond me, I felt that the kiss I shared with her was far sweeter than the liquor I was drinking now.

Alfons: ...Master, could you see if the carriage at the back of the shop is still there?

Bar master: What? Don’t go ordering the bar master around like that.

Alfons: I’ll get your mooost expensive liquor. In a bottle.

Bar master: ...How many?

Alfons: How does ten sound?

The bar master clicked his tongue and flipped a middle finger at me before leaving the back to the alleyway and coming back the next moment and shaking his head.

Bar master: It’s not here anymore.

Alfons: Is that so, then that’s a relief.

Bar master: Is it the lady who drank with you that went on the carriage?

Alfons: You’re quite in the know, aren’t you?

Bar master: Sending her back alone in the wee hours of evening, some sexyman you are.

Alfons: That’s just how it is.

Bar master: ...If you care about her enough to prepare a carriage, the least you could do is send her off.

Alfons: ‘Care,’ huh... I suppose.

A: I didn’t want to put her in any physical danger,

A: but I did need to instill so much shock in her that she would want to forget it all... so it was all a necessary measure.

Bar master: Not so sure what you’re getting at there, but what I do get is that you’re one hell of a shitty bastard.

Alfons: Ahha! I would expect nothing less from you, master, knowing me to the tee.

It took time for memories to fade.

That went for the memory of me engraved in her body... and the memory of her in mine.

But time seemed to have a knack for passing like it was melting away, unexpectedly so.

If she was going to go back to her uneventful, warm everyday life from long ago, then even more so.

Alfons: ...It would be great if you could find a man who can heal the wounds of a lost love and become happy.

Before I knew it, the glass in my hand was empty.

The sweet flavor of the sherry lingered on my tongue, staying there without fading away for eternity.

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manicrouge · 10 months ago

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Champagne Problems

[ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴍᴀᴄᴛᴀᴠɪꜱʜ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 07/02/24

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: Reminiscing about the past always leaves a bitter taste in Johnny's mouth. Especially when those memories include you.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 5,814

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt and absolutely ZERO COMFORT!!! Mentions/ implications of alcoholism, angst, implied family issues, suggestive content.

[ᴀ/ɴ]: Pain, suffering and agony. You are welcome.

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot). Also I would like to have all my work in one place rather than spread across other blogs to avoid confusion !!

ENJOY !!

Please do not post my work to any other platforms, thank you.

He finds it difficult to stomach as he looks out of the window on a train.

The return from deployment is always bittersweet. In particular, knowing he can return back to his hometown for a short while before having to eventually go back to the base.

But, all of that disappears as he’s sitting on the train, looking out the window as rain bats against it. His eyes can hardly make anything out, it’s far too dark for his eyes to make it much further than the outline of a mountain in the distance. His arms aching and he’s unsure how long he’s been looking out of it. He’s quite sure the sleeve of his jacket is completely soaked from the condensation dripping down the window, pooling on the window sill his elbow is resting on. Still, nothing changes his position, not even the shifts of the cart as it storms along the tracks.

In his chest, he feels his heart murmur at the thought of getting closer to home.

It’s been a while.

The silence on the train is unnerving as he turns his eyes away from the window for a moment. Across the aisle from him, there’s another traveller. His head is pressed firmly against the back of the chair as quiet snores escape his open mouth. As he focuses on him, he notes a glistening trail on his chin and grimaces, turning his eyes away from the man, directing his gaze back to the window.

Trains during the night-time are always strange, he was familiar with them when he first joined the army. Travelling to and from always seemed worse during the day, so, he'd opted to stay at the base for an extra day, leaving in the dead of night to catch the last train available home. There was no reason to leave during the day because at night, he knew he could sleep away all the worries, arriving home well rested.

But then something changed.

After another op, he returned to his schedule of sitting on the train at night, looking down at the sketchbook resting against the table in front of him. Holding a pencil in his hand, he busied himself with a sketch of a familiar face. There were the remains of a mistake engraved into the paper, odd rolls of the rubber sitting on the bend of his notepad as he readied the eraser in his hand in preparation for another.

His tired eyes were heavy as he observed the features of the man on the page, a small grin forming on his face as he thought about the reaction from the man when he saw him again. He’d probably only nod his head at his attempts of drawing him, noting that the details of his mask were a little janky, but that wouldn’t matter; the eyes were perfect. But Johnny knew he would still lie to him because being sincere was not one of his lieutenants specialities.

‘Do you mind if I sit here?’

Setting the pencil down, he raised his head to see you standing in front of him. You smiled at him with a small glass in your hand, holding the seat opposite to him to keep yourself steady. ‘It’s just cause there’s no one else here and my phone died,’ you explained, ‘I won’t make a peep, I promise,’ you added.

With a short nod, he motions towards the chair opposite to him, moving the pencil tin above his notepad so you had some space to place down your belongings. ‘Aye,’ he says, ‘be my guest, bonnie.’

So, you took a seat, placing your backpack on the chair beside you, setting your glass down. He observed the colour of the liquid, the colours faint as the bubbles raise from the bottom of the small glass, dispersing at the top. He recalled how odd he thought it was when he had first seen the funny little drink on the table, only knowing the train-line to serve water and the occasional cup of tea.

‘Champagne,’ you answered, following his eyes to the glass, ‘thought I’d treat myself.'

‘What’s the special occasion?’ he asked with a raised eyebrow, picking his pencil back up, resuming his portrait of the moody lieutenant. The train creaked at the cart turned slightly, and he caught your hand steading the drink. ‘Ye get a promotion?’

Looking at you again, he noted how you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. Your eyes fell to the aisle and your chest rose as you took a deep breath. There was something about your apprehension that troubled him, the way your flushed cheeks paled left him wounded for a short while before he realised that he had no clue why he was thinking in such a manner.

It was her eyes, he reminisces while keeping his eyes trained on the window beyond the cart.

It's a bitter pill to swallow, the memories of you still wrapping around his mind as a kids train set does a families Christmas tree during the holidays. Looping round and round and round until it's put into a box. The season in his mind has lasted longer than the measly length of the month of December, spanning years (it seemed). It's torture, yet, despite it being so cruel, he dreads the arrival of the day where he finally has the courage to box you up and shove you to the back of his mind because that would be when he could begin to forget you.

Even after all the years that have passed, he finds his mouth moves as he recalls your response to his question when you had sat opposite to him on the train.

‘Moving out, actually.'

It was just as well everything happened for you on that day, you moved out the day he got the train home. Had anything been different, neither of you would have crossed paths and while agonising, he looks at the stars in the nights sky with an air of gratitude.

You admitted after a while, your eyes falling back onto him as you heaved a heavy sigh. ‘Been stuck in a shitty situation for a while, been sitting around waiting for a chance to get out of it and tonight just so happens to be the night that everything fell back into place.’

Your words haunted him during the night, appearing like a phantom in his dreams, calling out to him. The glint of gratitude in his eyes wavers.

Your words are soft as you spoke and he likened the look you gave him to one of the valleys he had witnessed when he had taken the day train home after his first deployment. A valley with a river right below it in the midst of shrubbery and trees. The water was blue, he could see it when he looked at her. The reflection of the sun reflecting off of the surface, mirroring the rocky trails of the mountains. The sight of such had left him breathless, just as you did when you took a deep breath, reaching out for her glass, bringing it to you mouth. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling a stranger my problems,’ you mumbled.

‘It’s nae an issue, lass,’ he responded, ‘happy to hear y’ got outta whatever was making ye so miserable,’ he confessed, ‘and Scotland, eh? Pretty place if y’ ask me,’ he said with a short laugh. You laughed with him before taking another sip from your drink.

He watched as you did so, noting the glint in her eyes as you moved your eyes away from him to his notebook. Pulling the glass away from your mouth, you placed it down with a hum, swallowing the last of the drink in your mouth, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. It's a charming sight, clumsy and amusing.

‘You’re good at drawing,’ you noted, pointing at the drawing, ‘is he a character of yours?’ you asked, motioning to the drawing of the man with the skull face. A short chuckle passed his lips as he rubbed the stubble on his chin.

‘Guess ye could call him that,’ he said, 'someone I know, actually ,' he confessed.

Your brows furrowed, wrinkles forming on your forehead as your eyes grew wide. Your hand ghosted the glass, wetting your fingers with the condensation dripping down the outside as you looked at him with glossy eyes. Fingerprints marked the glass as you forced your hand away.

'I'm so so sorry- I didn't mean it as an insult it's just-'

'Keep the heid, lass,' laughed the man.

You stared at him.

'Relax,' he said, noting the confusion on your face. Your tensed muscles softened as your picked up the glass off of the table, taking a big gulp, finishing the last of the contents in it. He frowns when he notices you shaking. You thought you had done so much wrong with a single observation. 'you weren't to know.'

'Does he really wear that mask?' you whispered as though Simon was right behind you, and had he been, Johnny could say with his heart that he wouldn't have been surprised; the damn man appeared out of nowhere all the time.

'Yeah,' he said.

'Is it part of his job?'

Your intrigue was adorable.

'No, he just prefers to hide his face,' he explained, 'suppose it makes work easier,' he said, nodding to himself. Despite his time knowing Simon, he never did know why he covered his face. Of course, it kept the human version of the man from the man who committed countless atrocities in the name of justice, yet, the point you brought up left him thinking for a short moment.

'You work together?' you asked, 'what do you do for work?'

'Part of the military,' he told you frankly, 'he's my lieutenant,' he added, although, he didn't care to tell you much more as he looked at the you with a furrowed brow, not wanting to leave you with enough time to respond to his confession, 'what about you, lass?'

'I write,' you said, 'I got a remote position at a publishing company, that's whats given me the money to move out.'

'I enjoy writin' from time to time,' he responded, 'not that good at it though, prefer drawing,' he uttered.

You were though, he didn't even bothers to think of your response because, truthfully, your humbleness in terms of your own talent was wounding to his own love for writing. As he would with advertisements, inwardly, he skips by all the small talk in his mind. It's cruel the way the mind works; memory was a burden to hold, yet as entertaining as a late night TV show which was to only be watched in secrecy.

'What's your name?' you asked, picking up another cup of champagne. He watched as you did so, lifting his own cup that you had gotten for him when you had excused yourself to the bathroom.

He kept his distaste of the beverage to himself, besides, it was free.

'Johnny,' he answered, ' and y'urself, bonnie?'

You answer accordingly, stating your name with a smile. Repeating your name, he finds it rolls off his tongue well and the longer he observes you, the more a conclusion dawned upon him.

'Suits ye well,' he complimented with a wink.

Rubbing his face with his hand, his breath fogs against the window of the train and he turns his head away, absentmindedly wiping down the window with the sleeve of his puffer jacket. In the meantime, he busies himself looking at the empty seat opposite to him.

In the blink of an eye, you're there, sitting across from him.

'When do you get off?' he asked.

'Last stop,' you answered, 'staying at a hotel for a few days before my place is ready... was eager to leave,' you said. As soon as the words passed your lips, he felt compelled to be a gentleman. That, alongside taking into account the trouble that could have occurred if you did walk to the hotel alone, besides, the least he could have done for you buying him a drink and keeping him company was help you find you way to your hotel.

'We can share a cab if ye want,' he offered, 'put my mind at ease, wanna make sure you get there safe, besides, far too cold for ye to be walkin', bonnie,' he said, biting the inside of his mouth as he awaited your refusal, only, you nodded your head and smiled.

'I'd appreciate that, Johnny.'

His memories blur for a while after that, and his cheeks flushed red as he recalls how you looked at him before you got out of the cab. Glancing at the same hand that paid the fare only far enough to go to your hotel he curses as he watches the memory of him getting out of the taxi to chase after you.

You waited for him at the entrance in hope he'd have a change of heart, and he recalls how delighted you were when he walked through the door and caught you standing there, waiting for him.

Truthfully, he knew he was in deep shit when he felt the way you wrapped around him, the way you called his name, and how pretty you looked underneath him. Even after years, it was difficult to escape the thought of your first night together. Perhaps it was the entire being strangers thing that made the sex much more enthralling than any other one night stand he had had, or maybe it was just you.

Shoulda never let her have me number, he thought to himself.

It was difficult to deny that there were only ever terrible times. Resentment bubbles and it turns the fondest of moments to the worse; there was something there for him to miss when he thinks fondly of you. Fondness makes forgetting a hell of a lot harder, at least it does for him, anyway.

He hardly even thinks about Graves anymore and he resents him.

He resents you too.

But whenever he thinks of you, he thinks of your laughter. And then the guilt seeps in and he curses himself for ever thinking so lowly of you in the first place. How fucking dare he do something so terrible. You deserve it, though, for all the shit you put him through: the bruised heart thats still bandaged up, the sleepless nights as he waited for you to come home, the drunken phone calls he would get while on an op.

All of it.

Then there was everything else: the moments you shared together, the sound of your laughter which would seemingly travel down the halls of your apartment and wake him whenever you spent the night together, the sight of you in his shirt while cooking breakfast in the morning and your excitement when you finally persuaded him to dance with you.

The last one was particularly difficult to forget. His fondness will never let him let it go, he's convinced.

In the depths of the night, you danced together. He acknowledged the look on your face as he held you in your arms, the laughter as he spun you around in a circle, pulling you away just for you to end right back in his arms. He'd never let you wonder too far, scared that if he lost grip of your hand, you would have disappeared forever.

It became a routine and he recalls all the times he had held you in his arms while dancing to a song by Sinatra or Aretha Franklin and all the times he saw you smile. All of those happy moments moulded into one, while only a few stuck out.

During that night in particular, he couldn't look away from your eyes.

Whenever he looked at you, he was started by the glint of colours in your eyes, reflective of the colourful lights you had decorated your Christmas tree with. Rather, instead of decorating the tree, the lights in your eyes worked well in decorating the brambles you called eyelashes as you looked up at him. Every time you blinked, he found the same glossy sheen he had seen that night on the train. Every blink seemed to edge you closer to tears, as though your eyelashes were antagonising your poor eyes constantly.

Then he smelt the liquor on you breath and was reminded of the underlining truth of everything.

You were always emotional whenever you had something to drink. It couldn't have been helped, it was simply who you were, and he was going to resent you for something you couldn't have helped.

'Yer oot yer face,' he mumbled, speaking softly to you as you swayed with one another to the low hum of music from your vinyl player. Neither of you noticed how the song skipped, far too busy with one another to notice such a flaw.

'English, MacTavish,' you answered, your tone gruff as you recalled the story he had told you about the man with the skull mask and the city soaked in blood. He chuckled, pulling you closer, resting his head against your shoulder, looking at you. You turned your head to the side to look at him too.

'You're drunk,' he said quietly.

'I only had a glass,' you answered abruptly. You tensed in his arms when you responded to him and he felt his head sink further down until it sat, burning in the acid of his stomach. 'I had it while I was making dinner; the sauce had some of it in,' you explained, turning in his arms so your chests were pressed against each others. placing your hand against his face. You looked worried in that moment, observing his features. 'You're not mad at me, are you?'

Placing his hand over yours, he sighed, 'nae, bonnie, just don't want ye to hurt y'urself,' he explained, pulling your hand from off of his face, planting a kiss atop of it, moving his other hand from the small of your back to hold your waist. 'Love you too much for ye to do that,' he said, letting go of your hand to place his fingers beneath your chin, forcing your head up so you were looking at him. 'Y'know that.'

'I do,' you weakly answered.

The only bastard 'I do' he ever got from your lips. It was laughable really as he looks back on that night, how the pair of you had been so close in your home, dancing together as though you were an elderly couple celebrating your 40th wedding anniversary together.

Think I'll live that long?

Probably not.

Had anyone from 141 been there to witness how he fell to pieces with you in his arms, they very well would have laughed until they were blue in the face. And the longer he looks out the window out on the Scottish countryside, he concludes he too would laugh at that man dancing with you for being such a smitten fool.

'Good,' he hummed, pressing a kiss against your lips. The were chapped, dry, but he didn't care. Instead, he deepened the kiss as the pair of you stumbled backwards, muffled laughter escaping you as you loosely wrapped your arms around his neck while he kept the pair of you from falling.

Moments of happiness seemed so common in the beginning.

The night trains shifted to day trains again.

He'd hit the ground running after returning from an op, only showering because he didn't want you to smell the remnants of war which stained him and his skin. Nothing kept him from seeing you, not even his distaste for the day train.

All of it meant that he could get home sooner; he recalled the sinking feeling in his chest whenever the trains were delayed by a measly twenty minutes. Love made him a different man, he realised, a man who enjoyed the day train and the man who loathed the night train.

'I thought you weren't going to be home for another couple of days,' you said, opening the door to see Johnny standing there with a bag on his arm. Dropping it, he pulled you into a tight hug, resting his hand against the back of your head as he swayed you from side to side. 'Did you get the day train for me?' you asked.

Pulling away, he caught sight of the smile creeping onto you face as he nodded his head slowly, 'didn't wanna wait longer than I had to,' he answered, 'saw a photo of ye in me wallet an' knew I needed to be here with you sooner,' he added, pressing a kiss onto your lips as your cheeks flushed red.

'You have a picture of me in your wallet?' you quietly asked when he pulled away for you. He smiled.

'Of course I do, bonnie,' he responded as though such was an obvious fact, 'need to see that face of yours every day, ye like medicine to me.'

'Really?'

'Aye, lass.'

Everything moved so quickly and it wasn't long before you were well acquainted with his mam.

Meeting his mother was the confirmation he needed to say that he wanted to marry you. No one else in the world mattered when he saw how you and his sisters bonded, and while sitting alone on the train, he clenched a his fist at the emptiness of the palm of his hand while imagining the light weight of the ring his mother had placed in the palm of his hand while he stood in the kitchen helping her prepare the Christmas dinner. It had been over two years since the pair of you had started dating when she did so, working well to convince him that the timing meant that something else in the universe had willed it to happen.

'Mam?' he asked, looking down at the ring in his hand.

The band was quaint, golden as an green gem stared him in the eyes as he squinted, holding it up to the yellow light of the kitchen. The elderly woman in front of him chuckled, patting his shoulder as she walked past him to open the oven.

'Well, she's the one, ain't she?' she said, speaking into the heat of the oven as she grabbed the tray of duck-fat potatoes with a stained tea towel.

'Ye think?'

'Gonnae no’ dae that!' exclaimed his mother.

'Don't do what?' he scoffed.

'Act surprised,' she scolded, 'it's in ye eyes, son,' she chuckled. 'Yer nana told me to give ye the ring when I thought ye'd found the right one,' she confessed, 'and with your father gone, 'ave got no reason to wear it, but she has,' she uttered, looking from out of the kitchen into the living room.

His eyes followed hers and he watched as you sat with his youngest sister. The pair of you chatted away, though his stomach twisted at the sight of you holding a glass in your hand.

'She's a good girl, Johnny.'

'Aye, mam, I know.'

'So, marry her.'

With his mam's words echoing in his mind, the memories always came to the one that caused all the air in his lungs to escape.

Nothing wants to stay whenever he thinks of that, and he's sure if he was wounded, all his blood would leave him in a second in order to stay out of the cycle in his head that always brings him back to this one thought.

He supposes, in hindsight, it was terribly foolish what he had done. His ignorance to pressing issues was immature and irresponsible, only, they were easy to ignore when he had his mothers ring in his pocket. But he noticed, years down the line, how you had dropped his hand when the pair of you had been dancing, all to go and get another drink because the glass in your hand was running dry.

The party was one you both had planned, only, you had done so to celebrate a win himself and the boys had had during their time away, and he had invited everyone with the intent of proposing to the love of his life.

In the moment, he had been so crushed. He recalls how his mouth was dry, the dull ache in his cut knee as he awkwardly remained kneeled as you stood and stared. The speech he had prepared disappeared when you turned your back on him and rushed away, leaving his ego bleeding as everyone looked at him in horror.

'I just... I don't know why you would do it,' you mumbled when you heard him walk through the door into the kitchen away from the guests.

He was silent as he looked at you, traces of a storm in his eyes as he fought off the urge to cry. His chest hurt as he looked at you with a glass in your hand, and he couldn't do anything but stand there and watch as you drank from it. 'I told you, Johnny, I fucking warned you and-'

'I thought ye would've had a change of heart, love-'

'Well I haven't!' you angrily snapped, slamming your glass down onto the counter, glaring at him. 'What, did you think just because I'd have a ring on my finger all of our fuckin' issues are going to disappear? You're a smart man, Johnny, stop trying to play the role of the fool. It doesn't suit you and it never will.'

You were just as embarrassed as he was. He curses himself while sitting on the train, thinking back to your flushed cheeks and teary eyes. It wasn't only because of the booze that time, it was because of him too.

'I- I'm trying, John, can't you see that?' you croaked, 'I'm trying but I can't be everything you want. I don't wanna get married... at least not yet.'

'Ye don't love me,' he blurted.

You snapped your head up, furrowing your brows as you looked at him with wide eyes. 'Is that serious what you think?' you shakily asked, disbelief etched into your features. 'So what? You think all the fuckin' nights I've spent worried that you're not gonna come home when you're away working were for-'

'All the fuckin' nights you spent with a bottle in your hand too, eh?' he quickly cut you off, retorting in a manner that had left you breathless, draining all the colour out of your face. 'Don't pull that card on me, bonnie, don't you fuckin' dare do it 'cause I worry more about you and your drinkin' habit than I do my own life when I'm out on the field- tell me how you think that's fair!'

You stared at him, your eyes drifting to the empty glass abandoned on the counter. It was unfair for him to pull that card, he was aware enough in the moment to understand it, but he was so utterly devastated that he chose to stand his ground. An apology wouldn't have mean anything even if he had said it.

'If ye loved me... you'd stop goin' to the bottle every time ye have an issue,' he bleakly said, 'but am not even sure if you would pick me over the drink anymore, bonnie.'

'How would me saying yes to you fix any of that?'

He stayed silent.

Reflection allows him to find that he only ever proposed out of love. He was aware of your issues, noting it was never always smooth sailing from either of you, but he supposes he just wanted to have proof that at least once, you would pick him rather than the liquor.

But he was stupid for ever thinking you were more than your champagne problems.

'Getting married would only complicate things between us, John. You know that,' you said after a while of silence, 'and clearly, we don't listen to each other... I'm sorry I embarrassed you today, and I'm sorry I keep causing you to worry- I'm sorry for being such a burden to you but you don't make it easy for me,' you uttered, rubbing your face with your hands, wiping away the tears that fell down your scarlet cheeks.

There was nothing else for him to say to you, and he's ashamed at the very fact that, in the moment you needed him the most, he walked out of that room and left you there crying, alone.

As the train turns on the tracks again, he ponders what would have been different if he had stayed there with you, only, he finds his mind drifting to the words on a page which confirms exactly why he was thinking.

He was only prolonging the inevitable.

As he turns to the final page in his notebook, he finds it difficult to breath as he retrieves the piece of paper he had pushed to the back of it, unfolding it. Pressing his hand against it, he leaves it to sit on top of the page marked with splashes of the drink you had spilled, unable to find the strength as he stares down at the words scrawled on the page.

A crude reminder of what became of his engagement.

'Johnny,

In time, I hope you'll forget about all my problems and find someone who you deserve. I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused and I'm sorry for not being ready for you.

Give your mums ring to someone who deserves it and put the special ladies picture in your wallet instead of mine. For the sake of yourself and me.

I love you, Johnny, nearly too much, and while you will see my absence as cruel, know I see it as necessary and that's the issue; we never have seen eye to eye on a lot of things.

We're not ready for each other, I know you think it but you're too scared to say it, so I'll bite the bullet and say it for you. We're not ready for each other, Johnny.

Love shouldn't be a tug-of-war, and I grow tired for you watching as you always try and pull me to you. Besides, I heard your mother after you left the room, she said I was fucked in the head for not agreeing to your proposal and it leaves me wondering what type of person you've made your family believe I am.

I'm sorry I couldn't be everything you wanted, but know that everything I'm doing: leaving, writing this letter, not saying goodbye to you in person, is for you. You always said you hated goodbyes; they were the hardest part of your career, and I can't promise that I wouldn't run back into your arms the second you'd open your mouth and beg me not to go.

But I'm prolonging the inevitable by staying with you.

I'm making you miserable with my problems and that is not what I want you to do. You have a life, and you had a life before we met on that train.

All I ever did was make you worry and I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want you to worry about me, I just want you to move on and love and be loved. I'm going to work on myself and I'm going to get better because I know that that is what you want, and in truth, it's what I want too.

I love you and I fear I always will, but I can't have you, and I'm punishing you and myself by staying here.'

He turns his head away from the letter, looking back to the window at the small dots through the foggy water as he utters the last part of the letter under his breath. 'One day, we may meet again, perhaps the stars will align and you'll see me on a nighttime train back to your home town. And maybe then, I'll be ready.'

A breathy laugh escapes him, repeating 'And maybe then, I'll be ready.'

How appalling it would be when you realised that you leaving only resulted in the reversal of roles. At least, he likes to think he would have the strength to refuse you if he's to ever see you again.

When he turns away from the window, relieving himself of the pain of remembering all that has gone wrong in his life, he takes the letter from off of his notepad, folding it along the worn edges, pushing it back in a small slip at the back of the notepad.

Shrugging off his jacket, he put it on the seat beside him with a hard sigh, turning his attention back to the notepad in front of him. The nights long and his journey proceeds to drag his feet and he's unsure if he even wants to be back home or if he should have just stayed in the base until Price needed him next. But it's Christmas and he couldn't have left his family because of his own sorrow about something that happened years ago.

He just misses you more in the holidays, but he supposes that's okay as long as he doesn't let the phantom you left him with ruin everything. So, he picks up the pencil and pursues what he was doing the night you two met, only this time, there's a ghost sitting opposite to him, not the living thing that greeted him many moons ago.

His ignorance to the world around him keeps him from hearing the footsteps storming up the aisle after the train stops at a station. Even when the voice of a woman announcing the last stop enters his ears, he doesn't lift his head. All the noise culminates into a twisting storm, similar to how he imagines the billowing smoke exuding from a chimney on a winter night swirls in the wind. It's deplorable and he grunts as he attempts to chase the flurry of emotions away.

His efforts result in even more tension at the front of his mind as he looks into the eyes of the drawing he's sketching, realising just whose eyes he had depicted in the midst of his worry. Even after all the time has passed, he's impressed by the fact that he still remembers your features so well.

Always so difficult to forget, he supposes his contemplation proves such.

Then he hears it.

The very thing that works to break him free.

A quaint shaky breath.

A shadow covers his bulky frame, light peering from either side of the mass standing on the aisle holding onto the seat opposite him. Lifting his head, his lungs rattle in his chest as he realises the eyes he had been sketching in his notepad are right before him in human form, staring right back at him.

'Johnny?'

#cod #call of duty #soap x y/n #soap x you #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #angst #cod x reader #cod x you #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish

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ihatedtoadmit · 6 months ago

Text

Violet-coloured lenses

pairing: Bang Chan x male!reader

genre: angst, fluff(?)

warnings: gore, mention of suicide

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Chan hides his feelings and he couldn't regret that decision any more.

a/n: This is a bit different, you'll see in what ways. Hopefully it doesn't confuse you guys.

A Guide to the AU, in case you are unfamiliar with it (it does spoil the surprise though).

↳ Main Masterlist

It wasn’t supposed to be like this, not at all.

We were supposed to just meet up for a friendly lil café date, all to help him wind down after a long day at work. He’d said he was tired, but needed some advice on some projects and I just couldn’t say no. Our chats where we’d agreed on where to meet were colourful and energetic, full of our usual friendly banter and memes. I was made fun of, of course I was, unable to escape being called old even outside of my lively group. Yet, I didn’t mind it, enjoying the soft tingling nestling inside my chest way too much for me to put a stop to it. Besides, he just looked too happy as he teased me and my heart always ached at the mere thought of being the reason for the disappearance of his smile.

Every little laughter of his caused my skin to tingle, the breath stilling inside my lungs and deciding to take residency in there forever. Each touch and brush of our skin only caused my feelings to bloom, as if that was even possible at that point. That was the effect he had on me, being the sole reason for the colours to appear in this bleak world, for music to sound wonderful and hold meaning.

But I didn’t mind any of those, truly I didn’t. Not his teasing, not how he called me his friend, none of them.

My only regret was staying silent, now forced to watch his once bright face be still and pale, only the constant beeping sound providing me some form of mocking solace.

Why couldn’t I just say those simple words out loud at last?

It had all been planned out, our shared friends having helped me cook up a foolproof plan. But it wasn’t enough, me being the biggest fool of them all, ultimately forcing me to now sit beside his still form in an all too white room.

The moment I’d showed up to the birthday party, looking all sharp and neat -Changbin had made sure of that-, I just simply couldn’t do anything. The breath had stilled in my lungs as my palms had grown sweaty, and a small tremor had run through the entirety of my body as I no doubt looked like a man-turned-stone.

But how could I not?

The one I had grown so fond of over the course of a few months had looked absolutely breathtaking in those casual clothes of his, a soft smile decorating his rosy lips perfectly. There was a twinkle residing in those dark orbs, as if they were hiding something that resided deep inside, but I couldn’t make sense of it. I was much too enamoured as a quiet chuckle had left him, amused by whatever Jisung had said.

The urge to gulp became impossible to ignore much too soon, that itching feeling clawing at the back of my throat fiercely once more.

And as the day had gone by, my eyes glued to that one person only, that itching feeling had only grown into a suffocating urge to cough. It had been getting bad lately, petals only increasing in number. And I’d known if I had continued like this, that hidden affection would have been the cause for my own death.

Those thoughts caused me to let out a broken laugh as I sat beside his unmoving form, the situation much too ironic for me to not do so.

Because all of those words turned out to be true. My drowning love would lead me to my own demise, with me being much too stubborn to give it up even in such a dire situation. And worst of all, I was completely aware of that, much to everyone else’s demise.

Instead of confessing to the one my heart beat for, to the man these rooted feelings had blossomed for, I’d instead spent that night hunched over the toilet in my own residence, much too sick to stay at the party anymore, where he was at. Every single glance I’d stolen of him scorched me, just like how each spoken syllable directed at me caused my chest to constrict painfully, the roots squeezing the walls of my lungs together viciously.

I hadn’t been able to keep pretending to be his friend anymore that night, the action much too painful for me to bear any longer.

How I wish I had held out just a bit longer, until the words spilled out of my mouth in a flurry of violet petals as gentle as he was.

“Hey, Chan. How’re things going?” - Felix’s voice broke me out of my dark thoughts, granting me just a second to stop blaming myself for what had happened. “Stable, I guess. He’s breathing, but there are no signs of him waking up yet. Not a single one…” - the words that had left my mouth sounded utterly broken, a surprise Felix heard them at all.

He silently shuffled next to me after having placed a grocery bag on the nightstand, his hand squeezing my shoulder reassuringly. It was as if he was trying to glue my shattered pieces back together, no matter how bleak it all looked. That was the thing with Felix. He never gave up and stayed by our side, my side, even though I’ve been glued to this uncomfortable plastic chair for the past 8 days relentlessly, refusing to let sleep claim me in case anything were to happen.

Anything at all, just, please.

“It’ll be okay, mate, trust me on this one. He’s never been one to give things up easily, have some trust in him. He’ll come back to us, to you.” - he whispered back after a beat of silence, and something in those words just broke me inside. “...if what you say is true, he wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed, having overdosed on meds just to try and take his own life.” “I know, but–” “Lix, his life was apparently so miserable he’d turned to this desperate ‘solution’! We didn’t notice anything, nothing at all! He smiled the same, he laughed the same, he behaved the same. Like a perfect mask. And we, we weren’t able to notice it was there in the first place. We couldn’t help him… I couldn’t help him.” - with each sentence my lungs burned, the air between us cooling down as I silently wheezed there, hand nearly tearing my remaining hair out. “Hyung…” “Don’t hyung me, Lix. You know I’m right. Maybe if I’d confessed that day he wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t be here now, dying due to my own stupidity.”

The room became completely silent after that, only the constant beeping and my own raspy breaths filled the air. The hold on my shoulder turned tight, desperate, and I could only lower my head in shame. It wasn’t enough that I could have prevented this entire hospital visit, no, now I had to lash out at Felix who was only here to help. Because without his help, his constant and relentless support, I wouldn’t be here anymore. I was sure of it.

What a hyung I am…

That hold on my shoulder suddenly disappeared, only for my collar to be grabbed and tugged at, the chair loudly falling to the ground as I was harshly ripped out of it. Our eyes were on the same level now, his hold on my shirt so strong the fabric nearly tore in half.

There were tears in Felix’s eyes, even though he looked the angriest I had seen him in a good while.

“Listen here Chan hyung and listen well. I don’t care how you spend each day here, how I need to get you food for you to survive and literally shove it down your throat, but you stop blaming yourself for everything that happened right now! No, we don’t know if your confession would have helped, get that through your thick skull finally! It wasn’t your fault, okay? Because if we go by that logic, I’m also to blame, being his best friend and-...”

By the end the younger aussie’s voice had broken, his arms letting go of me as I just crumbled to the ground. I could only watch from below as crystal droplets had started cascading down his frail face, eyebags I had never noticed before only becoming more prominent. And that wasn’t the only thing that had finally registered in my selfish brain, far from it. The boy was merely a ghost of his former self, skin pale and clinging alarmingly close to his bones, as if he himself had refused to do the one thing he came to me every day for. His moves were different too, hesitant, as if he didn’t have enough energy to execute them properly.

How could I have been so blind before?

As Felix merely stood there, quiet sobs escaping his tiny form he had desperately tried to muffle behind his hands, something inside me snapped. Whatever it was, I had no clue, but there was now nothing more to hold me together, nor to stop the dams from breaking.

We both just sobbed there, unable to hold back those loud wails for seemingly eternity, emotions running much too high for any of us to stop.

Minutes must have passed before my breath stuttered, my entire throat feeling as if it was drenched in a sea of fire, its only purpose to drag me down into its dark depths and drown me there. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t get any air into my lungs, the petals inside preventing it from happening. I could feel their soft surface clinging to the bloody walls of my organs, leaving no surface bare, like a roadblock on a busy driveway or a kaleidoscope of butterflies swarming to the sweetest of nectars. The world ceased to exist, only the suffocating urge to survive, to breathe, remained. I couldn’t feel anything, only the bitter taste of iron inside my mouth and the wet feeling as it dripped onto my hands amidst my desperate struggles to finally take a proper breath. It was impossible to tell what was happening anymore and soon my lungs gave up the near impossible fight, my body having lost its strength completely, unable to hold itself up anymore.

The last thing I remembered was the feeling of the small violets resting in my hands, bound together by that awfully deep shade of red.

READ FURTHER FOR HAPPY ENDING

-.-.-

I awoke to a deep pain that resided inside my skull, a groan escaping my dry lips as I was unable to hold it back. Even worse, harsh light assaulted my eyes the moment I’d opened them, causing a scowl to be etched deep into my face. I tried my best to block out the offensive brightness with my hands, but every move felt sluggish, as if I was underwater. It merely succeeded to confuse me, not a clue why I’d be in such a predicament.

Once I opened my eyes I only grew more alarmed, that familiar beeping now finally registering in my brain, its sped-up version heard crystal clear in my head at last.

Why was I in a hospital room?

Looking around didn’t help me at all, as the room was bare, save for a sleeping Minho by my side. His chin was tucked into his chest as he silently slept there, hands crossed and brows deeply furrowed. And as my eyes carefully roamed over his resting form, dread sat heavily into my stomach.

He looked just as bad as Felix did.

Minho might not have been as close to the one my heart blossomed for as Felix or Jisung was, but that didn’t mean this entire situation had no effect on him. Especially with how stubborn I’d been lately, the team’s supposed leader and the one they could turn to for advice.

I remember to this day how he’d stormed into the hospital room, distress clear on his face as he’d looked at me, Felix hot on his heels and out of breath. That was the day Minho’d learnt about my situation, the disease that ran inside my veins and slowly poisoned every inch of my lungs, my throat, in a morbidly beautiful way. The look he’d had in his eyes had nearly killed me, those glistening chocolate orbs wide with fear.

Fear of losing me, his only hyung.

It wasn’t rare for us to argue, especially me and Minho. There was a certain level of trust between us, the two oldest that made it easier to understand the other. But that day, he had raised his voice against me, demanding that I take the surgery and have those deadly flowers cut out.

And what have I done in return?

I argued back, as he’d never be able to understand my feelings. How would I ever be able to live without love in my life, without all those memories of the one I adored? I just couldn’t.

It had taken Felix for us to quiet down, my eyes unable to find Minho’s as his long hair had covered them. And so I had turned away, done with the conversation, when the quietest voice I had ever heard from him reached my ears. I had only believed that it had come from him because I had seen his lips moving, desperation clear in his entire body.

Minho had begged me to have the surgery.

Minho wasn’t a man who begged for anything. He was always strong, determined, ready with a plan to get what he wanted easily. But to see him in that state… I’d considered his request, even if only for a heartbeat or two. That, I couldn’t deny.

Despite all that, how intensely we had argued, he sat there in the corner of the room now, asleep as he no doubt stayed by my side for much too long. I couldn’t help but smile at that, warmth filling up my body.

Although that wasn’t the only thing that I’d felt, a vicious cough ripping itself out of my lungs as I heaved there, barely able to sit up and lean to the side to at least try and get into a more comfortable position. With each cough I could feel something tearing out of the tissue residing deep inside, petals and leaves freeing themselves first and being the messengers of its presence.

I had nearly given up when it had finally freed itself, a handful of violets now laying in my blood-covered hands, looking up at me with their splotches of colours.

“Good job Hyung, let me clean you up.”

I didn’t even notice Minho had been by my side this whole time, his warm hand leaving my back as he took the soiled flowers from my hands without hesitation, depositing them into a nearby bin. He was fast in cleaning his own hands before grabbing some wet wipes, motions gentle as he cleaned my hands silently.

When he turned my head up to clean the vermillion droplets residing on my chin, I could see how utterly defeated he looked. It was as if he had accepted the fate I had chosen, forced to witness my downfall as he could do nothing about it except watch from beside me.

It made my chest constrict painfully, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Just as I was about to reach out towards him, the door to my room bursted open violently, a distraught Felix standing there. He was panting hard, no word able to escape his exhausted form and we could only exchange a worried, yet confused glance with Minho at that.

What could have been so urgent?

Our silent question was answered soon enough, the words I was desperately hoping to hear finally hitting my ears and making me second-guess myself. Was I truly so far gone that I’d hallucinated it? Wouldn’t have been the first time after all, my wishes chasing me into brief nightmares even in my sleepless hours.

“He’s awake.” - Felix repeated himself, eyes solely on me and my frozen form.

It took me that second confirmation to realise I wasn’t hallucinating this time, my body springing into action. Minho wasn’t fast enough to catch me, my hands having already torn out the IV and other, different machines that were attached to my skin. I didn’t care about any of them, or how it stung to remain a few.

All that mattered was that he was awake, alive, and I could talk to him again.

Felix didn’t hesitate to scramble out of my way as I became a force to be reckoned with, unable to be stopped no matter what. Minho tried his best to try and do just that, or at least to slow me down, but I could care less about that at the moment.

It didn’t take long for me to find where he was, the door closed and waiting for me to open. Yet, as much power as I had so far, it all drained out of me at the thought of confronting him, of speaking the truth at last. It was as if my legs had rooted themselves into place, my entire body paralysed in fear.

All it took was Minho and Felix to gently push my back, silently beckoning me to finally take that step forward.

The door opened and there he sat in the bed, silently gazing out the window. He had lost some weight and his skin was now pale, yet he was still captivatingly beautiful in my tearful eyes.

My feet made a sound on the cold floor of the room as I made a few tentative steps. Our eyes met, those dark orbs I loved so much twinkling in delight and looking lively again, their glistening surface drawing me in. Tears carved their seemingly permanent way down my cheeks, my dimples coming out of their hiding places as I just stood there, taking it all in.

He moved before I could fully register it at all, his much taller, yet thinner form nearly knocking me down to the ground, were it not for the others. His hold on me was strong, desperate, as if he was trying to mould me into his own skin and I could only sob as he held me in his arms.

He was alive, his heart beating fast, his body warm and he was holding me tight, so, so tight I could feel my broken pieces being mended together.

As I just stood there, soaking in his warmth and sobbing into his chest, no doubt soaking his hospital gown, a quiet question hit my ears.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Channie?”

The sobs froze into my lungs, wet eyes now staring up at him as he drew me away so he could look at my face directly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you love me? That you were dying because of me?” - he asked once more, his voice so full of hurt I was ashamed of myself. “I-... I wanted to. But it was me who hurt myself, not you, never you! I’am dying due to my own stupidity.” - I replied, unable to meet his eyes.

His hands slid down from my shoulders, gently taking my own hands into their hold. It was as if he was handling something fragile, his touch featherlight and never too harsh. It made my skin tickle and flush, his care only causing my stomach to flip inside and turn on its own head.

“I never thought this would happen. That someone would have feelings towards me, of all people. So I’m sorry, so sorry that I never noticed. But… even if you won’t forgive me, can I hear it from you this time? That you love me?” - his question was equally gentle, his inability to see his own beauty cutting deep into my heart painfully.

I grasped his hands in return, determined to never let him go, even if only as friends. And with a deep breath, I answered his doubts.

“I love you. I love you so fiercely it nearly suffocates me, but I could care less. I’m in love with you, my dear butterfly.”

His eyes twinkled at my words, lips wobbling and glistening tears finally falling to the ground. I’d nearly feared he hated me so much my confession made him cry, but he spoke before I could, his hold on me tighter than ever.

“I love you too Chan. Please never doubt that, never again.”

I didn’t hesitate to hug him close immediately, the reality of his response not hitting me fully yet. Only after a minute did my brain register his words, a wide smile dancing on my lips as we sobbed in each other's holds, unwilling to let the other go.

I didn’t care how the others were now all there to witness us, hugging in tear-soaked hospital gowns. We were both happily in our own little world, inseparable from the other, soaking up each other’s presence and warmth we missed oh so much.

Taglist: @michelle4eve

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officialtayley · 6 months ago

Note

So... Plot twist

Hi everyone, is Emily/em/Sparks9397, make yourselves a snack this one’s long.

I have a lot I'd like to say, but think a good place to start would be that yes, I’m very sorry for how this played out and for what I did, though, the pics were about as far as the lie went, guess doesn’t matter either way but yes, I am a lawyer, yes I live in Australia, yes that’s my dog, yes I have a boyfriend, etc.

Honestly, I'm not mad at the anon in fact I was kinda expecting it? (someone was bound to get that’s not my pic), but you did caught me off guard last night and I panicked cause I thought better disappear and leave no trace behind, they all hate you anyways (you guys have been way too nice and fic gate is kinda funny), but I do like to twist the knife and did go back to it in the morning to check how badly i'd fucked up, is why i'm sending this.

if you want me to explain myself, well I was in a bad bad place last year when I started writing, the writing really help me through lots of stuff and for personal reasons i thought it was better not to add my pic, stupid me thought it was a good idea to share another person’s photo, who kinda looks like me if you want to believe that or not, but seems way happier, more stylish, more fun, etc and well you know how that ended...

Was it necessary to keep posting more pics that weren’t mine, no obv not, yet believe it or not somehow in the past year my life got way better and I made it out of that dark place and was excited to share more of my life, my mistake to not just come clean instead of keep pretending I was someone else.

Anyways, I could keep going with the apology but I don’t think it matters very much now, does it?

So I’ll just use this time to say I'm realy really sorry Meike @paramorewillbelegends and I’m really so so sorry Reese @dnd21, you both were really good friends to me and I'm so grateful to you both for being there for me when I had no one to talk to, sorry I couldn’t reciprocate and be a better friend to you.

Ps. A03 was more leveled headed than myself during this time and though I deleted everything and didn’t have backup they sent me a copy of everything which I can repost if that’s what you want, but yeahh guess that's it for me, and thanks to Ash if you end up posting this (no pressure).

i think your apology matters. you've obviously seen what i've said about what you did so i won't say anything more, but if you mean this then it's something people can forgive you for and move past.

i think it's better to do this than to do something drastic. as you can see, no one hates you, even any of us that may have sounded quite harsh, that's not hatred either. anyway, i appreciate that you sent this and i'm sure everyone else will appreciate it, especially your friends, so i'll post it because i think it's important and you didn't have to send it at all but you did, so again, i think it'll be very appreciated.

also you do whatever you feel is right with the fics. a lot of people may still want them but ultimately it's up to you and if you feel comfortable doing so.

#anon #answered #what a way to end ficgate

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marvelmcumania · 2 months ago

Text

You are my only love - Part 3

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader Summary: This life's fate wasn't meant for both of you but the next did!

Word Count: -

Setting: Modern World and The 80s

NOTE: Updates won't be frequent will be updated at any time English is not my first language Do not repost Feel free to reblog and let me know your thoughts

Warning: Creepy Boss

Navigation | Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist |Steve Rogers Masterlist

"Why does this keep happening with me?" You mumbled on your way back home. How could this happen? Why did that man disappear suddenly whenever you tried to meet him the bad news is you didn't even know his name and the only thing you know is his face.

Searching his account over social media—nope, that was bad since this would be stalking, and you weren't a criminal. Taking a deep breath, you tried to cool your mind and looked up above the dark night sky, the stars shining brightly. You wished you could cross paths with him again properly next time.

You couldn't see him anywhere a few weeks later, as if the man had vanished out of thin air. Your workload has also increased since the day of your upcoming project work meeting. And day by day Rumlow would give you more work saying you know better which was weird cause they were equally talented but his sole focus was on you.

Whereas the nightmares were constant and more scary and more familiar faces it was blurry and that was another drawback Bruce still indulged in his research and Natalie was still trying to tell you about your past life which was a ridiculous theory.

Right now it was nighttime and everyone except you was doing their final check-up of the presentation when you felt someone's presence beside you but didn't turn your head knowing who it was.

"Ms L/N you didn't say where you went yesterday?"

"Had an important work sir"

He gave her a hum "And the work was rather important than this"

"Personal" You felt uncomfortable with these questions and weird of him to ask these questions "But the work is almost done so no worries"

He gave you a creepy smile and gave a pat on your shoulder "Good girl" That was weird Natasha across from you gave a questioning look to which you shook your head signaling not to worry.

It was the day of the meeting, and the office was in full buzz it was weird that the rival company Shield had all made their appearance and you would represent it You and Natasha were in the ladies' washroom pacing back and forth.

"You got this" She looked at you giving a smile.

"Yeah" Vigorously nodding your head "I got this But why did he choose me"You whined glancing at Natasha

"Cause you are his favorite employee"

"Yeah more like a creep" To which Natasha gave a hum.

"Come on the meeting will start at any minute" You both exited the washroom to be joined by all the Shield and Hydra sitting at their seats except for two empty seats and a man giving a worried glance to his boss.

"We are waiting for two of our boys and then we can start it." The man spoke who had an eyepatch on his eye.

"We can't Mr. Fury Y/N start the meeting" Rumlow ordered her and you walked to the front and took place as you started the meeting the front door burst open two men panting heavily.

"Sorry has it stated?" The man with brunette hair spoke and a blonde man appeared behind him Mr Fury shook his head and the two men stepped in taking their sits. You were shocked it was the same man you met in your nightmares and immediately vanished after the first meeting.

Someone cleared their throat it was your boss who had an unreadable expression "Yeah uhm welcome everyone-" you looked at the man who had his eyebrows furrowed and then back to Natasha who was coaxing you to speak suddenly the world around you started getting hotter the noise slowing down Natasha began to talk but you couldn't hear anything even Rumlos's voice unhearable all you could hear was the scream from your nightmare the faces and before you could continue everything went black

The last thing you see is Natasha and the mysterious man running towards you to catch you

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steven grant rogers #marvel fic #fanfiction #angst #captain america #you are my only love #captain america x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans character #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x fem reader #steve rogers x y/n

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medicinal-doll · 2 years ago

Text

Bedtime.

Title: Bedtime.

Daddy!Henry Cavill x little!reader

Words: 800.

Summary: You're throwing a tantrum because you're cranky cause you stayed up too late, but don't worry Henry will take care of you.

Warnings: ddlg dynamic,p in v sex,mention of choking/spanking,brat behavior,Dom/sub dynamic, degrading,daddy kink,pet names

A/N: Practicing getting better at writing smut and I couldn't find a ddlg bedtime for Henry with smut so here's this

*Please don't repost without permission If you use my writing as inspiration please ask first and credit me

.............

"No!" you scream as Henry holds you securely against his burly frame.Taking you from your pink playroom.

"Not a dolly princess.." you sniffle watching your toys and stuffies disappear from your view.

"Don' wanna go night night!"

You kick and scream, though your hits do no effective damage.

Henry sighs at your tantrum and gently pats your butt encouraging you to stop yelling at this time of night.

You always get cranky when you stay up this late, which is why he set a strict bedtime for you.But your little doe eyes got the best of him tonight, His mistake.

"Aaahh!-" you yell obnoxiously.

Okay... now you're just being annoying. Henry rolls his eyes at your antics.

"C'mon honey shhh" he encourages you softly, bouncing you gently in his arms.

"I told you baby" he coos at you. "You need your little girl rest sweetie, but you didn't want to listen to daddy"

His reasoning doesn't quell your sobs and frustration at all.

"Put me down! don't wanna go..." You cry but Henry picks up on your blatant lying.

"We do this everytime princess... you're just a little baby honey" he talks to you in that warm loving tone that makes you shy.

" you need your sleep doll" he whispers softly placing a kiss to the side of your head.

"Or you'll get all cranky and upset and start throwing tantrums at daddy like you are now"

You sniffle, Slightly embarrassed and aware of your unnecessary outburst. But it doesn't stop you from whining.

"Don't wanna go...." you mumble to yourself.

It's your last attempt at fighting him before your littlest sleepy self takes the place of any hostility you have left in you.

"I know baby, I know." He says in a soothing tone.

"just let daddy take care of you princess okay?"

You nod at him, whines still leaving your mouth. those being the last remnants of your fit.Henry rubs your back in slow circles patting your butt lovingly while carrying you up the stairs.

He sets you on the bed gently, and you start to act up again. But then he gives you that stern dominant look that warns you not to test him, and you shut right up and wait patiently like a good girl.

Henry removes his shirt revealing his beefy chest and toned abs, dark chest hair decorating his warm skin.

You lay back on the bed. A new feeling taking control of you, a docile feeling that makes you burn with desire.

You dip your hands between your legs touching yourself sensually.

You aren't allowed to touch.Not without your owners permission, but seeing as you've already pissed him off for the night and the lustful look he's giving you right now. He doesn't seem to mind.

Even if he did you're in such a mood, he'd have to physically restrain you in order for you to stop.

You rub your fingers over your clit, making sure to give your daddy a good look at your cute little princess parts.Eyes glinting in pleasure as wet dews of arousal make your pussy glisten in the warm light of the bedroom.

You whimper softly in that high pitched tone you know drives your daddy fucking insane.

You flick your clit faster, eyefucking your sir.

"Please daddy....fuck me" you whine out.

"I'll be good now, I'll go to bed promise"

You moan arching your back off of the covers winding your hips against the soft sheets.

"Just please give me your cock..."

Henry prides himself on being A good daddy that upholds the rules. But god damn it, you don't know what you do to him. And if it wasn't for the very visible bulge peeking from his boxers, he might've been able to resist the temptation.

He climbs on top of you giving into his carnal desires.

You look at him face flushed, all pouty and submissive.

"Please daddy I can't take it anymore-"

"I need you in me"

"I need my daddy"

At those last words you cling to him, nails slightly digging into the warm flesh of his bicep.

Henry quickly frees his cock from his boxers, it being just as needy and swollen as yours.

He rubs his length up and down your drooling pussy, coating it in your wet heat.

You grip on him tighter.

"Please..."

He looks at you with animalistic eyes.

"Please what..." He says darkly as his cock teases your entrance.

You pout impatiently. "please fuck me da- Ah!"

He sheathes himself in your slick warm pussy fully, groaning at the tightness wrapped around him.

"Fuck baby...mm" he grunts deeply.

Henry pulls out then ruts back in and you yelp.

"Gonna breed you so fucking good..fuck" he says in a low groan.

You whine as he slowly starts moving his hips against yours.Soft sobs spilling from your lips as his fat cockhead rubs against the sensitive ridges in your vagina.

"Please daddy ruin me" you beg.

"Fuck my little girl hole till I scream..."

He plants the gentlest kiss to your lips before slamming his hips into you.Harshly driving his dick in your cunt, exploring it shamelessly.

"Ah! Fuck!-" His cock slaps against your wet walls as lustful sounds fill the room.He's so fucking big, you think you'll break if he goes any deeper.

"Daddy! Fuck-"He smacks your ass in warning and you cry out.

"Ah!"

"The fuck did I tell you about cursing hm?"

"You needy slut, you just don't know when to listen do you"

You cry at his harsh words when in reality they only make you wetter.Your arousal dripping all over him, drenching his cock and balls.

Henry grabs you by the throat choking you against the pillow.

"You fucking like it when I treat you like a slut don't you"

He rams his cock in you making you so fucking sensitive your legs start shaking around him in pleasure as his meaty hips bounce against your thighs.So rough you can't think straight.

"No! Not a slut!" You shake your head at him.

"No?.." He questions in a deep voice.Eyes gaining a sadistic tinge to them, As he grabs you flipping you on your tummy.

"Then I guess you don't like when I fuck you like this then huh"

He takes your little pussy from behind pounding you like the good little cock whore you are,his dick reaching those deep intimate places that drive you crazy.You moan embarrassingly loud as he drives his hips against your weak spot.

"Ah! Daddy please I'm sorry!" you cry out in pleasure.

Henry laughs at how how you're such a shy bunny but you're so fucking loud when he gets his hands on you.

"That's right baby you should be fucking sorry" he grunts, vigorously thrusting into your hot pussy.

"But don't worry hun, daddy's gonna make sure you get to bed on time every. fucking. night."

He fucks into you after every pause your walls fluttering around his dick gripping at every vein sucking his cock back into your soaked cunt.

He grabs your face squishing your cheeks together and whispering in your ear.

"If daddy promises to keep fucking you like this before bedtime, you're gonna be a good little girl for me aren't you baby?"

Your minds fucking gone but you agree to whatever the hell he's saying, too cock drunk to comprehend anything but him pounding your little cunt raw.

"Yes daddy! Ill be good I'll be good fuck fuck fuck fuck-." You scream his cock and balls slapping against your lips at a fast sloppy pace.It all feeling so fucking good and too much for you at the same time.

His hips hit your spot repeatedly and you scream as Henry's white cream explodes into your little womb.your eyes roll to the back of your head, your blush spreading to your entire face.

"Daddy.." you whimper at his hot milk entering you.

His head dips down resting on your back, his soft breath against your ear.

"What did I just say about cursing..." He asks slightly out of breath.

Oops.

"Sorry daddy it felt too good" you plead.

You turn and wrap yourself in his embrace.

"Couldn't help it...."

He sighs pulling you deeper into his big arms.

"That's alright bunny"

"Daddy just has to be better about disciplining you about that, and your bedtime"

You just nod, snuggling against the comfort of his muscular chest in acceptance.

Henry chuckles and smiles at your cuteness, petting your hair softly as you both drift off to sleep.

#little reader smut #x little!reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x little!reader #daddy!henry #daddy!henry cavill x little!reader

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flowerandblood · 2 years ago

Text

My Best Friend (9)

[modern! club owner • Aemond x fem!reader]

[warnings: smut, sex content, kissing, fluff, swearing, mention of stalking]

[description: Aemond has his own club and often does business at the home of one of his business associates. There he often meets his younger sister, with whom he develops a deeper relationship through shared secrets. This is slow burn love story.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Their whole house was in chaos, things had been pulled from shelves and cupboards, scattered all over the floor. Someone hacked into their alarm system and disabled all the security. After going through the entire house, nothing was missing - or so it seemed, until they entered Y/N's room.

"Fucking shit." Klaus said, running his hand over his face. "It's definitely him or his people. He was looking for something."

"And found it." Y/N spoke terrified, looking into one of her drawers. “The disk with all the messages and photos from him disappeared. In all apps, he deleted the messages he sent me. God! He also took my old card from the phone, that had text messages from him!" She said weakly, all pale. Klaus cursed loudly, turning away tensely. He was pissed off beyond measure.

Everyone went down to the living room to think. Aemond was leaning against the wall, Y/N and Marcus were sitting on the couch. Klaus was pacing around.

"And where were you exactly then?" He asked suddenly, turning to face her. Y/N froze, swallowing hard. She didn't have time to say anything, because Aemond was quicker.

“Albert came to see her at the University, Marcus was at the office. She got scared and came to me at the club. I let her stay there and we both spent the night there." There was no hesitation in his voice. Y/N looked at him with wide eyes.

"Both?" Klaus asked, frowning, his expression demanding an explanation.

"I was supposed to leave her alone in an empty club overnight?" He asked rhetorically, not looking away from his gaze. Klaus pursed his lips and looked at his sister, who was looking at him pleadingly. He let go, exhaling loudly. Marcus looked at her with concern.

“You should have called me. If I had known, I would have come for you." He spoke warmly. Y/N looked at him with tears in her eyes.

"I didn't want to disturb you." She said in a broken voice and hid her face in her hands. Marcus put his arm around her, his face showing pain for her condition, and also some remorse.

Aemond's throat tightened at the sight of him touching her. He wanted to grab her and pull her out of his arms. He thought after a moment, that he was thinking of her, as if she were a thing and not a person, and he felt embarrassed at his immaturity.

He saw Klaus watching him from the side and he cleared his throat. He felt like he knew, what he was doing with his sister last night. He wasn't going to deny it, if asked directly, but he wasn't going to explain himself either.

“Marcus, let Y/N stay in your apartment tonight. I'm going to order a cleaning crew and get this done by tomorrow. I don't want her sleeping here, until we fix the alarm." Klaus said, his voice tense. Anonymous denunciation was one thing, but breaking into a house and violating privacy so much was quite another.

Aemond turned his face away at his words, standing with his arms folded, his face all tense. He knew Klaus was doing it on purpose and he was furious.

They talked for a while more, but Aemond had to get back to his business. Y/N looked at him apologetically, sensing he was angry, but they didn't say a word to each other. He didn't even dare give her a goodbye hug in front of Klaus. He nodded and just left.

He spent the day in his apartment in front of his laptop, replying to overdue e-mails and printing out missing documents, but he had a huge problem with concentration. He was embarrassed, that he couldn't contain his frustration. He didn't even know, what caused it.

He didn't think she and Marcus would sleep together. Nevertheless, yesterday he had her all to himself, and today she was to sleep in another man place. His mouth tightened at the thought.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of vibration and the notification of a new message on his phone. He rolled his eye, thinking it was Kate again, but when he unlocked the keyboard, he saw, that Y/N had texted him. In fact, she sent him a photo.

It was a screenshot from an app for listening to music. At the top it said "Your own playlist set for today". Listed below were the songs, that were selected to be played in order. There he saw "Hush" by Deep Purple, "Welcome to the Jungle" by Guns N' Roses, "Never Let Me Down Again" by Depeche Mode and some other songs, that he knew well. He smiled slightly, seeing, that most of these songs were playing during their conversations. Somehow, it made him feel good.

A:"Someone here has good taste."

He wrote and sent it, referring to the words, that she had said to him in the car this morning. He unknowingly smiled at her answer.

Y:“I draw inspiration and learn from outstanding individuals.”

She wrote, and if he didn't know her, he'd think, she was serious. He imagined her saying it in her ironic tone.

A:"It has not escaped my notice, that you learn new things very easily."

He replied with a grimace of satisfaction. She didn't reply for a moment. He found himself staring expectantly at his screen. He unlocked the keyboard again, when he saw a new message.

Y:"I have a good teacher." She wrote back.

He tapped his tongue against his cheek in satisfaction. She picked up on the subtext and teased him. For some reason, he liked it. If any other woman had written it, he would have been embarrassed. It seemed so innocent and harmless from her. He wondered, what to answer.

A:"Only one?"

He wrote, curious to see her answer. He felt tension in the lower part of his stomach. She didn't reply for a long time. He felt an unpleasant pressure in his chest.

Y:"It depends, about what you're asking."

She finally replied. He pursed his lips. She hit the ball, so that now he had to think, about how to answer her.

A:"About more teachers teaching you."

He wrote after a while, feeling, that he had laid his cards on the table in a way. His heart pounded in his chest. He wondered, what was happening to him.

Y:"No. And you, do you have other students?"

She replied and he inhaled. He felt hot and replied quickly.

A:"No."

***

A few days have passed since their texts exchange. He felt better, because he had the impression, that they had more or less explained things to each other. He wanted her to know, that he had no intention of sleeping with anyone else just yet, and he didn't want to humiliate her.

He also knew, that she felt the same way. He guessed, that was the thing, that worried her the most, and he hoped his answer gave her some comfort. He knew, she wouldn't want more from him, than he could give. It was one of her qualities, that he appreciated the most.

Since then, they've texted each other from time to time. Y/N was texting him about the progress of the Albert case. Sometimes she sent him pictures of her college projects and designes, asking for his opinion, which flattered him.

He didn't know much about art, but he shared his insights with her. She thought, that he had a good sense of aesthetics and that his remarks were very accurate.

Their contact didn't bother him. She didn't bombard him with messages 24/7. It happened, that she did not speak to him all day, and he, feeling the sudden need to contact her, sent her a screenshot of the application and a new song, he was listening to.

Criston's birthday was approaching. As a big fan of his club, he wanted to organize it there, which Aemond agreed without thinking much. Y/N and Klaus were also invited by him.

Aemond felt a strange kind of excitement at the thought. He hasn't seen her in a week. He'd relieved himself a few times by thinking about her in bed at night, but that wasn't what he really wanted.

On the day of the party, Aemond arrived at the club early to make sure, that everything was done. As the first guests began to arrive, he retreated to the VIP lounge and surveyed the room, thoughtful. He felt a tension all over his body, like anxious anticipation.

He saw Criston in the crowd. He got up from the couch, Criston smiled at him and held out his hand, which Aemond gratefully shook.

“It all looks great. Thanks, dude." He said and patted him on the shoulder.

They talked about other things for a while, including Albert and the break-in, when Aemond saw over his shoulder that Klaus and Y/N had entered the club, talking about something and laughing. Klaus was dressed in a black, tight sweater, his hair was elegantly combed.

Y/N was wearing a tight "little black dress". Her dress reached to mid-thigh. Her dark hair and the shade of her dress, made her skin look like it was glowing under the club lights. Aemond felt his jaw drop just at the sight of it, and he had no idea, how he was going to put up with her the entire party, without fucking her.

He was already thinking in the back of his mind, whether he could quietly take her to his office unnoticed for a while. Criston's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Are you listening to me?" He asked amused.

"Yes, sorry." He just said, Klaus and Y/N approached them, Y/N was holding a bag in her hand, which was apparently a gift.

"Happy Birthday!" They both said happily, embracing the birthday boy in turn. They talked about something for a while, the four of them standing in a circle.

Y/N was standing next to him. Aemond stood with his hands clasped behind his back, fighting with himself and his thoughts not to touch her.

She looked at him with her big eyes, and he felt her thoughts wander in similar areas. He pursed his lips. Klaus offered to go for drinks, and Criston was taken up by other guests, who also wanted to wish him well. Aemond took the opportunity to lean in close to her ear.

"In 15 minutes at my office." He said flatly, though he knew, his dark eye betrayed him. Y/N shuddered and looked at him, taking in a soft breath. After a while, Klaus returned and Aemond apologized to them, saying, that he had something else to do.

He approached one bodyguard and whispered a few words in his ear. He didn't want anyone to disturb them. He felt, that if he didn't do it, he would literally explode.

He walked towards his office and closed the door behind him. He took off his jacket and laid it on the couch, feeling his heart pounding. He had never been so desperate. Their messages, constant tension and lack of physical contact, made him lose his temper.

After a while the door opened. Y/N rushed inside, closing the door. She looked at him, swallowing softly, her body trembling slightly.

“I told Klaus I was going to the restroom. What happened?" She asked, her eyes showing concern.

He approached her slowly, took her cheek in his hand and pulled her to him. She squealed softly, surprised, when he took her hand in his and touched it to the bulge in his pants. She stared at him with wide eyes, her breath quivering in her mouth.

"This is what happened." He said softly, rubbing her hand slowly.

She moaned softly, feeling it pulsate under her fingers, the space between her thighs tightening. He rested his forehead against hers, running the tip of his nose across her face. He moaned low, as he felt her hand press harder against the fabric of his pants.

He put his tongue in her mouth, parting her lips with it, digging into it with a greedy kiss. He pulled her close to him, and they both moaned at the sudden, close contact. He pushed her dress up and grabbed her ass, rubbing it in his hands.

"Beautiful dress." He grunted contentedly, their bodies rubbing against each other involuntarily.

"I'll fuck you in it, okay?" His question made her whole body tremble and a loud moan escaped her lips. He smiled at the sight. He would have teased her more, but they didn't have time.

He quickly grabbed her by the hips and set her on the desk in front of him, so she was in the perfect position. She took off her shoes and panties, he quickly unbuckled his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. He reached for the condoms, but her hand stopped him, she looked at him embarrassed.

"I started taking pills." She said softly.

He swallowed hard, staring at her in surprise. The thought, that she had started taking pills, so she could fuck him unprotected, turned him on even more. He pressed his lips against hers, their tongues dancing together furiously. Her hand dug into his hair, holding him tight against her.

He suddenly broke the kiss and knelt in front of her, parting her thighs, his face perfectly level with her hips.

"Fuck, so wet for me already." He grunted contentedly and licked her dripping entrance without hesitation.

Y/N arched back and sobbed at the sensation, she was extremely tender for some reason. He thought, she too suffered from their lack of physical contact. He slipped his tongue inside her and began to caress her, her hips following his movements, her hand tightening in his hair.

"Aemond, please, I need you inside me" She panted pleadingly, and he looked at her in shock. He stood up, wiping his mouth quickly.

"Back on the desk." He commanded, pulling her hips towards him. He felt, that if he kept going like this, a few moves inside her would be enough for him to come.

She did as he said, and he parted her thighs with his hands as if he were ripping a fruit apart. He had a perfect view of her pussy, which turned him on even more.

He aimed his cock at her and slided inside her without a word, her body arching back at the sensation. They both panted loudly, feeling each other's bodies for the first time without any barrier. He began to thrust in her deeply, hard and fast, both of them gasping loudly with pleasure.

"You missed that?" He asked low, seeing how close she was to her fulfillment. "Missed my cock inside you?"

She sobbed beneath him, her hips moving greedily to meet his movements.

"Yes, yes, yes..." She moaned, feeling, that she was about to come.

"I’m going to come inside you. Do you understand?" He asked, squeezing his hand tighter around her thighs, thrusting into her so hard, he could barely speak.

She moaned loudly as her orgasm hit her lower abdomen, a wave of pleasure so large that she sobbed.

"Yes, Aemond, please, please!" She sobbed, her face one of pleasure and pain at the same time.

The sight, coupled with her words, made him cum inside her with a guttural, loud moan. She shivered as his hot semen spilled inside her. She couldn't catch her breath, she tried to pull away from him, because of too much stimulation, but his hands held her in a steel grip.

He didn't let go of her for a long moment. He looked at her, lying with her eyes closed, her mouth parted, her thighs spread, now being somewhere in a completely different world.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she looked at him dreamly. She rose on her hands. Aemond gently pulled his cock out of her. She yelped in fear, as something spilled out of her and she clenched her thighs.

"Easy." He said softly, taking a handkerchief from the desk and pressing it against her insides. "It's just me."

She exhaled softly, all red and took another handkerchief, feeling the one completely soaked in their shared fluids.

Aemond zipped up his pants, took handkerchiefs from her, and tossed them into the wastebasket. He walked over to her and stood between her thighs. Y/N put her hands on his chest, they both looked at each other silently. He ran a hand through her hair, the familiar scent, that he liked so much, wafting to his nose.

"I missed you."

___

If you want to be tagged, just leave a comment. ~

@chainsawsangel @yentroucnagol @cardi-bre91 @melsunshine @bellaisasleep @candypurplebutterfly

#aemond x you #aemond x oc #modern!aemond #aemond fluff #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #hotd aemond #prince aemond #ewan mitchell #aemond one eye #aemond fanfic #hotd fanfic #aemond x fem!oc #aemond x fem!reader #aemond fic #aemond targaryen

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angelicglib · 11 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ Champagne Problems ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

[ᴊᴏʜɴ ᴍᴀᴄᴛᴀᴠɪꜱʜ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 27/12/23

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: Reminiscing about the past always leaves a bitter taste in Johnny's mouth. Especially when those memories include you.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 5,814

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt and absolutely ZERO COMFORT!!! Mentions/ implications of alcoholism, angst, implied family issues, suggestive content.

[ᴀ/ɴ]: Pain, suffering and agony. You are welcome.

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot) so, if you would like more stories from me, my new blog is @manicrouge !!

ENJOY !!

Please do not post my work to any other platforms, thank you.

────────── ⋆⋅🚂⋅⋆ ──────────

He finds it difficult to stomach as he looks out of the window on a train.

The return from deployment is always bittersweet. In particular, knowing he can return back to his hometown for a short while before having to eventually go back to the base.

In his chest, he feels his heart murmur at the thought of getting closer to home.

It’s been a while.

But then something changed.

‘Do you mind if I sit here?’

‘Champagne,’ you answered, following his eyes to the glass, ‘thought I’d treat myself.'

It was her eyes, he reminisces while keeping his eyes trained on the window beyond the cart.

Even after all the years that have passed, he finds his mouth moves as he recalls your response to his question when you had sat opposite to him on the train.

‘Moving out, actually.'

Your words haunted him during the night, appearing like a phantom in his dreams, calling out to him. The glint of gratitude in his eyes wavers.

‘Guess ye could call him that,’ he said, 'someone I know, actually ,' he confessed.

'I'm so so sorry- I didn't mean it as an insult it's just-'

'Keep the heid, lass,' laughed the man.

You stared at him.

'Yeah,' he said.

'Is it part of his job?'

Your intrigue was adorable.

'You work together?' you asked, 'what do you do for work?'

'I write,' you said, 'I got a remote position at a publishing company, that's whats given me the money to move out.'

'I enjoy writin' from time to time,' he responded, 'not that good at it though, prefer drawing,' he uttered.

'What's your name?' you asked, picking up another cup of champagne. He watched as you did so, lifting his own cup that you had gotten for him when you had excused yourself to the bathroom.

He kept his distaste of the beverage to himself, besides, it was free.

'Johnny,' he answered, ' and y'urself, bonnie?'

You answer accordingly, stating your name with a smile. Repeating your name, he finds it rolls off his tongue well and the longer he observes you, the more a conclusion dawned upon him.

'Suits ye well,' he complimented with a wink.

In the blink of an eye, you're there, sitting across from him.

'When do you get off?' he asked.

'I'd appreciate that, Johnny.'

You waited for him at the entrance in hope he'd have a change of heart, and he recalls how delighted you were when he walked through the door and caught you standing there, waiting for him.

Shoulda never let her have me number, he thought to himself.

He hardly even thinks about Graves anymore and he resents him.

He resents you too.

All of it.

The last one was particularly difficult to forget. His fondness will never let him let it go, he's convinced.

During that night in particular, he couldn't look away from your eyes.

Then he smelt the liquor on you breath and was reminded of the underlining truth of everything.

You were always emotional whenever you had something to drink. It couldn't have been helped, it was simply who you were, and he was going to resent you for something you couldn't have helped.

'You're drunk,' he said quietly.

'I do,' you weakly answered.

Think I'll live that long?

Probably not.

Moments of happiness seemed so common in the beginning.

The night trains shifted to day trains again.

'You have a picture of me in your wallet?' you quietly asked when he pulled away for you. He smiled.

'Of course I do, bonnie,' he responded as though such was an obvious fact, 'need to see that face of yours every day, ye like medicine to me.'

'Really?'

'Aye, lass.'

Everything moved so quickly and it wasn't long before you were well acquainted with his mam.

'Mam?' he asked, looking down at the ring in his hand.

'Well, she's the one, ain't she?' she said, speaking into the heat of the oven as she grabbed the tray of duck-fat potatoes with a stained tea towel.

'Ye think?'

'Gonnae no’ dae that!' exclaimed his mother.

'Don't do what?' he scoffed.

His eyes followed hers and he watched as you sat with his youngest sister. The pair of you chatted away, though his stomach twisted at the sight of you holding a glass in your hand.

'She's a good girl, Johnny.'

'Aye, mam, I know.'

'So, marry her.'

With his mam's words echoing in his mind, the memories always came to the one that caused all the air in his lungs to escape.

'I just... I don't know why you would do it,' you mumbled when you heard him walk through the door into the kitchen away from the guests.

'I thought ye would've had a change of heart, love-'

'I- I'm trying, John, can't you see that?' you croaked, 'I'm trying but I can't be everything you want. I don't wanna get married... at least not yet.'

'Ye don't love me,' he blurted.

'If ye loved me... you'd stop goin' to the bottle every time ye have an issue,' he bleakly said, 'but am not even sure if you would pick me over the drink anymore, bonnie.'

'How would me saying yes to you fix any of that?'

He stayed silent.

But he was stupid for ever thinking you were more than your champagne problems.

There was nothing else for him to say to you, and he's ashamed at the very fact that, in the moment you needed him the most, he walked out of that room and left you there crying, alone.

He was only prolonging the inevitable.

A crude reminder of what became of his engagement.

'Johnny,

In time, I hope you'll forget about all my problems and find someone who you deserve. I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused and I'm sorry for not being ready for you.

Give your mums ring to someone who deserves it and put the special ladies picture in your wallet instead of mine. For the sake of yourself and me.

I love you, Johnny, nearly too much, and while you will see my absence as cruel, know I see it as necessary and that's the issue; we never have seen eye to eye on a lot of things.

We're not ready for each other, I know you think it but you're too scared to say it, so I'll bite the bullet and say it for you. We're not ready for each other, Johnny.

But I'm prolonging the inevitable by staying with you.

I'm making you miserable with my problems and that is not what I want you to do. You have a life, and you had a life before we met on that train.

I love you and I fear I always will, but I can't have you, and I'm punishing you and myself by staying here.'

A breathy laugh escapes him, repeating 'And maybe then, I'll be ready.'

Always so difficult to forget, he supposes his contemplation proves such.

Then he hears it.

The very thing that works to break him free.

A quaint shaky breath.

'Johnny?'

────────── ⋆⋅🚂⋅⋆ ──────────

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #soap x you #soap call of duty #john soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #x female y/n #soap x y/n #cod x reader #cod modern warfare

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nicoscheer · 1 year ago

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Do you want to discover what bands @mileskane listens to while ironing his shirts? Then listen to this episode of the music podcast @kendedital with the nicest and funniest guy in the music business!

We had a blast! 🫶🏽

"I'm willing to play anywhere. Even now, if I were offered a gig at the pub across the street, l'd take it. I simply love playing. If you asked, I'd play right this moment. I just love playing, I'm not arsed. It's what it's all about." X

Miles when being asked about AM’s new sound:

mk: "you gotta respect it, you know, like, that's me bro, i'm always gonna have his back, you know what i mean? yeah and i respect for a big band to follow their gut. that's what al does and you gotta respect it whether you like it or not. it's kind of what all great artists do."

interviewer: "like it's cool that you kinda... you want to fucking do it so you do

mk: "yeah, man, that's me boy. if he wants to sing french or sing nigerian, i'm gonna have his back, you know what i mean?"

🫶🏽🫶🏽🥹🥹🥺my boys

Like I hate it that he’s always asked bout AM and TLSP cause he’s promotion his solo tour but this is 😘

So you’re telling me they are literally promoting Miles and Liam djing with a Tlsp pic 😭😭🫠🥺

Imagine if Alex were you just casually show up behind that DJ booth

with his bosom friend Alex Turner

At Crammerock we saw him strolling backstage. We decided to put on our naughty shoes and ask him. He turned out to be very amable and he was immediately enthusiastic about our concept,

So, you set out on your own

You shut up shop, you're leavin' home

You feel no need to settle down

In the crippled crook of your earth bound town

And you've been down this road before

Which is not to say you're bored

Or that you shouldn't want for more

It's just your expectations should be lower

There must be somethin' more than this

More than ideal homes or domestic bliss

What is there left for you to do

'Cause you've seen the future and it's nothin' new

And you've been down this road before

Which is not to say you're bored

Or that you shouldn't want for more

It's just your expectations should be lower, should be lower

And you've been down this road before

Which is not to say you're bored

Or that you shouldn't want for more

It's just your expectations should be lower, should be lower

Apparently wasn’t happy with the text placement so had to repost it 🤣🤣🥹

His eyebrow slit and bear looking fucking clean

Also I hate everybody who lives close to Gent or Sheffield

Miles last night with chef Tom brown and Jay Forrester at the opening of Tom’s new oyster bar (pearly queen shoreditch/ where Tom and friends repeatedly posted that the logo outside is the new bat signal 🤨y’know like miles guitarist said that the mirrorball is their bat signal) (also the fact that Tom reposted the pic of them via puppetspaces ig)

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The pictures of Miles with Tom and Jay

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A post shared by Miles Kane (@mileskane)

instagram

So proud of him selling out within less than two hours

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Miles helping Tom with taste testing

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I love that as soon Chef Tom Brown is involved everybody starts using Miles’ music; here a custom knife made for TB using troubled son

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A nice recap of the opening night, the way Miles disappears in that hug with Tom is 🥹🥹🥹

#miles kane #Liam toon #okay I’m in love with that picture how adorable are they pls #also that poster for Japan looks absolute boss #I envy people who live in gent #08/11/2023 #so proud of him #Instagram #also no darling I hate that he’s so self deprecating sometimes like darling believe me you could play Coachella (not sure if they’d let #you after the kiss cause homophobia) but if you ever return to Coachella it’s certainly gonna be as an artist and not as a crew member #who hurt Miles again #why is he always posting fucking sad songs 😭#what is he doing listening to this depressive music in the evening pls can we just all give him a massive hug

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punctatum · 5 months ago

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In The Mountains

This is my fanfic, do not copy or repost on other platforms. You can also read it on ao3 under the username Punctatum.

Arthur Morgan and Charles Smith are not my original characters.

Chapter One: https://www.tumblr.com/punctatum/754763771208253440/in-the-mountains

Two - 912 words

The next morning, Charles could feel that he drank, but Arthur was hungover. Once the man woke up, he was grumbling nonsense about the sun being too bright. “Here, coffee.” Charles offered him a mug of freshly brewed coffee, and Arthur took it gratefully, practically chugging the hot liquid.

“I haven’t seen you this hungover in a while. How much did you drink last night?” Charles chuckled, pouring himself some coffee as beans cooked over a fire. “Too much. I drank too much.” Arthur responded, leaning back against a log. “Make it go away.” He covered his face with his hands.

“Just give it a few hours and you’ll be fine.” Charles reassured his companion. “The beans will help, you need to eat something to absorb the alcohol.” He moved over to the fire and checked on the beans, observing that they were cooked, and took the can to pour the contents into a bowl. “Just rest, Arthur.” He handed the man his bowl.

Arthur sheepishly reached out to take the bowl of beans Charles had handed him. “Thank you.” He mumbled. It wasn’t often that Arthur was told to rest, let alone when he was on a mission as important as a hunting one. Resting was definitely something he wasn’t used to.

Charles got to his feet, and dusted off his pants. “I’m gonna head further into the woods, get some more food supplies. You’ll be safe here.” The last sentence he spoke sounded like a promise, and with that, he disappeared into the trees, his bow and arrows slung across his shoulder. “Rest.” Arthur repeated quietly with a chuckle. “Alright, then.”

Arthur knew what he had asked Charles last night, that memory had stayed with him despite how drunk he was, and that caused a lot of tension within him. Now, he was finally alone. He crawled into the tent, and tugged down his jeans. His cock, already erect, sprung free from his underwear.

Gently, he began rubbing his thumb along the tip, groaning softly as he did so. It had been a while since he got a chance to relieve himself, and it felt good. He squeezed the sides of his cock, bucking his hips into his hand.

“Fuck yes, Charles…” Arthur moaned. “Keep going.” As he said this, he sped up the movement of his hand, rolling his hips to meet the rhythm. “That’s it… goddamn.” He threw his head back against the bedroll, truly letting himself get lost in the moment.

Arthur couldn’t help but imagine Charles above him, his hand in place of his own. He imagined the big, calloused hand around his cock, and the thought made his heart flutter wildly.

“Oh, fuck, Charles.” Arthur was almost whining at this point as he continued to pleasure himself. His cock leaked copious amounts of precum, the liquid dripping onto his hand. “Please.” He whispered, so dazed that he didn’t notice his companion standing in shock outside of the tent.

Charles cleared his throat, and that seemed to clear Arthur of his trance. “Charles.” He chuckled nervously, freezing the movement of his hand. He couldn’t help but feel like a pervert, had Charles heard him calling out his name like that?

“It’s okay.” Charles assured Arthur, stepping closer. “I did say maybe.” He quoted what he said the previous night, unsure if Arthur would remember. “‘s right. You did.” Arthur looked up at Charles, uncharacteristically anxious about this. “Do you want me? Right now?” Charles asked, crouching down to meet Arthur’s level. “Yes.” Arthur replied without hesitation. “I do.”

Charles was then on his knees, desperately moving Arthur’s hands away from his cock. He lowered his mouth onto Arthur’s length, trailing his tongue against the tip, lapping up the precum that continuously leaked from it. “Yes, oh, fuck…” Arthur groaned, grabbing the back of Charles’ neck and pushing him down.

Taking Arthur’s whole cock into his mouth, Charles could almost gag with the thickness of it, but he quickly pulled himself together and continued to move his lips up and down. “That feels so good.” Arthur praised, he was so vocal at times like this, and it was so very attractive to Charles.

Arthur’s hand controlled Charles’ head from the back of his neck, and it made Charles shiver. He loved it when Arthur was in control, a change from him being the dominant one.

“I’m getting close, Charles.” Arthur warned, digging his nails into Charles’ skin. Charles moved his mouth even further down, darting his tongue out to lick at Arthur’s balls. “Yeah, like that.” Arthur encouraged, his back arching. He then began slowly thrusting his cock into Charles’s mouth, and the sounds that the man at his knees made were nothing short of heavenly.

Finally, he was tipped over the edge, and before he could warn Charles, Arthur’s load shot into his mouth. Charles groaned, moving his head away to gain his composure. He looked almost beautiful as Arthur’s cum dripped down his lips, as he swallowed the white liquid.

“C’mere.” Arthur beckoned, wrapping his arms around Charles’ waist and pulling him into a soft kiss. “That was good.” He cupped the other man’s face in his hands. “It was.” Charles’ replied, chuckling slightly as he buried his face into Arthur’s neck.

“Does it really taste good?” Arthur teased, shattering kisses along Charles’ forehead, and down to his shoulders. “It does.” Charles responded with certainty, wrapping his legs around his lover’s hips. “It really does.”

#actually autistic #writing #lgbtq #autism #lgbtwriter #arthur morgan #fanfic #red dead #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 arthur #Charles #Charles smith #rdr2 charles #charthur #rdr2 charthur #gay #smut #rdr2 smut

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sirenjose · 1 year ago

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Analysis of the Prospector, Norton Campbell

This is a repost of my Norton Analysis.

Let’s start with where I think Norton was born.

Looking at his last name, Campbell is a surname that originated from the Scottish Gaelic word “Cam”, which meant “crooked”, and “Beul”, which meant “mouth”. It was used by Scottish people during the Victorian period, which is around the right time that Identity V takes place in. If Norton were from Scotland, that could fit with how the name “Norton” means “North Settlement” (considering Scotland is north of England, which is where Oletus Manor is).

Further adding to this idea, Scotland is a coal-rich area, with Lanarkshire having a heavy concentration of collieries (coal mines) back in those days. Ayrshire, Fifeshire, and Stirlingshire are next in order of the number of collieries. Due to Lanarkshire being Scotland’s most populous county, this could be a good guess as to where Norton’s from.

There is also the theory that Norton is from Mexico, based on his S-Tier Soul Catcher being Day of the Dead themed, his provoke emote, Tune (as Season 18 Essence 2 is designed after a Spanish wedding and Spanish costumes), and potentially his connections to the story “The Transition of Juan Romero” (something I’ll discuss more later).

Norton’s provoke emote is a gesture that means “Come and fight me” (info courtesy of @andrewkreiiss, which I’m going to just copy right here so I don’t mess anything up). First is him pointing at someone, that's just like pointing at the person he is addressing, it's something rude to do. Then the second gesture is Norton touching his cheek, this gesture means "come and punch me here on the cheek", it's just him mocking the other person inviting them to come and fight him, showing that he isn't afraid of them. Then the third one is him like thrusting his upper half with his chin, that's something men do when they wanna pick a fight with someone and they wanna look "intimidating". His whole emote is just him confidently picking a fight with someone and mocking them.

(As for Norton’s dance, it’s apparently actually a Columbian dance called “Mapale”.)

As to “The Transition of Juan Romero”, it’s a story by Lovecraft that involves an explosion at a mine called the “Norton” mine.

In the story, the narrator is a man of English origin, an ex-soldier with a penchant for the occult, wearing a ring he acquired in India. After an unhappy experience in India, he abandons his previous career and becomes a laborer at the Norton Mine. He’s living with a man named Juan Romero, who’s part of a group of Mexicans drawn from the nearby lands (to work in the mine), though likely not Mexican himself as he is apparently light-/fair-skinned.

Romero was born into extreme poverty and is the only surviving child of an epidemic that spread around (where he originally lived). He was found in a cabin with the relatively recent remains of his parents not far away from the hut. There was also an unusual looking crack in the rock near the corpse(s) apparently. After Romero is found, an avalanche buries the hut and cracks in the rock (making any clues on his background disappear). Also, apparently Romero doesn’t remember the names of his family or anything else. He was then picked up by a Mexican cattle thief, given a name, and raised by him.

When Romero sees the ring the narrator wears, he becomes really interested, as it seemingly awoke some memory in Romero’s mind (at this point, Romero becomes really adoring of the narrator, likely because the guy’s ring allowed him to get some clue about his parents).

Human error with dynamite causes a cave near the bottom of the mountain to blow up and cause a cave in. Neither Romero or the narrator were involved in the accident, and there were no casualties, but a deep crack was created. The mine foreman orders a survey, but everyone was too scared, so work stopped for the night because a storm was coming.

On the night of the explosion, Romero is asleep when he hears a drum beating an eerie rhythm. Romero seems to get excited or anticipated something because of it. The 2 head towards the mine, as if drawn against their will due to the rhythm (and the narrator’s ring begins glowing at some point as well). Romero reaches the abyss first, and runs off into the darkness, screaming “Huitzilopochtli” (which relates to the mention of Aztecs earlier with Romero in the story). The narrator peers into the abyss, and sees something (something too horrible for him to tell) before falling unconscious. The narrator wakes up the next morning, back in his bunk, but he also finds Romero’s dead body on the table. Everyone also says neither of the 2 left their cabin that night, and the chasm had vanished as well, along with the narrator’s ring.

So, about the important bits from this. There’s obviously the name of the mine, plus the fact a mine, mine workers, and an explosion caused by misuse of dynamite is involved. There’s how the Mexican and Aztec (Huitzilopochtli is the Aztec sun and war god) bits relate to Norton’s S-tier Soul Catcher, which has a Day of the Dead theme. Regarding the Cthulhu elements, we don’t know what entity was involved, but it’s obvious something was going on. Whatever it was, it may connect to the eye in Golden Cave and the meteorite (both of which I’ll discuss later).

As to my guess regarding when he was born, I assume it was around 1870. First off, we know Norton used dynamite according to his deductions, and dynamite wasn’t invented until 1867. Besides this, I’m in part basing my guess off of when Emma’s game was. We know her game was in 1898 by using when she was born, which we know due to Freddy’s deduction 6 (she was born on December 21st, 1876), and her canon age according to the official artbook, which is 22. Next, based on info from Time of Reunion that implies Norton was apart of the final game, that would mean his game took place at least by 1898 if not later. Since Norton is confirmed to be 28, 1870 is a good guess based on the info I listed, since if Norton was born in 1870, he’d be 28 the year Emma was 22 and had her game in 1898.

If Norton was born in 1870, that would mean he would’ve grown up under the recent Elementary Education Act of 1870 (or if he was born in Scotland, the Education (Scotland) Act 1872 would be the equivalent in this case, which funnily enough helped come about due to someone by the name of George Campbell). This law made education for children between the ages of 5 and 13 mandatory, and ensured each distract had a sufficient number of public schools. It didn’t make education free, but in cases of poverty help was given so they could attend. The education was basic, focusing on teaching children reading, writing, and arithmetic, so some poor children supplemented their education by reading the daily papers and other cheap publications.

The fact Norton is described as “full of curiosity” and “likes learning”, with the list of 13 mines, and how he likes “ore evaluation” (+ how he was able to become a geological prospector with his magnets) shows he did at least get a basic education. The BDuck x IDV quiz describes him this way if you get Norton as your final result, while Norton’s deduction 3 in other versions describes him as “diligent” and “studious”.

Speaking of this, it also describes Norton with “desire to act at MAX” or “highest level of execution. This means he’s the type of person to put all his effort into whatever he does. He never goes halfway with something. This thing also describes Norton with “believes action speaks louder than words”. This fits all his tweets as well as his background (which I discuss later, but it relates to how everyone avoids him, as well as how they mock him from trying to get out of poverty. The only way to prove to them that he’d succeed was with action rather than words), and why he’s so quiet.

I mentioned that poor children did receive help to attend public school. We know he was poor based on Norton’s father, who was a miner. We know this due to Benny (who I’ll get into shortly) stating he was a friend of Norton’s father, and Benny is a miner. Miners were part of the lowest class and social status, and typically lived in poverty.

As we’re talking about Norton’s father, let me talk about his parents a little more.

They’re never brought up except by Benny who calls himself a friend of Norton’s father. As such, the implication is that they died, likely when Norton was relatively young. His parents being dead can be backed up by Norton’s Ronald of Ness skin from Golden Rose Theater and Sparrow from Teahouse Tales. In Golden Rose Theater, Ronald’s father takes the blame for causing Lachesis’ death and dies from a “severe cold illness” shortly after being imprisoned. In Teahouse Tales, Lady 13 is Sparrow’s adopted mother. She’s betrayed and murdered by Flying Guillotine.

An interesting note, in both examples, Norton only has 1 parental figure. We know Norton knew his father to some extent based on Benny’s comment. Therefore, I wonder if that could mean Norton’s mother either died very young (like in childbirth) or she left Norton and his father at some point (like Martha Remington did to Leo and Emma).

Based on Benny having to tell Norton that he was a friend or coworker of his father, this makes me think Norton never worked with his father, otherwise he would’ve already known this. In which case, it’s possible this could imply his parents died before Norton turned 12 years old. I say this due to the Mines Regulation Act of 1860 which prevented children under the age of 12 from working in the mines. Also there’s how when a boy turns 12 and enters a coal pit, he’s attached to his father or some other man until he works long enough to become an actual miner. However, this law wasn’t always well-enforced, and there were provisions that allowed children between the age of 10 and 12 to work in the mines under certain conditions, so it’s still possible.

Considering Norton’s 2nd letter (which I’ll discuss later), he mentions how he’s been working for “20 years”. Since Norton is 28, this could mean he lost his parents and became a miner at 8 years old.

Either way, after losing both his parents, Norton ends up becoming an orphan at a young age and has to work to provide for himself. Due to who his father was and how poor they were, Norton likely became a coal miner, especially as coal was the primary source of energy at this time. As a rule, the sons of miners follow the occupation of their fathers, and begin to work when they reach twelve years of age.

Miners were expected to work at least a daily twelve-hour shift (though hours a miner had to work varied from mine to mine) on weekdays, reduced hours on Saturday and Sunday being the day of rest, with few breaks. They walked miles from their housing to the mines, and further still as they had to go down the mine shafts to where the ore/coal was being mined (mines got really deep in the 2nd half of the 19th century). Underground roadways were usually narrow, uneven, and low as owners didn’t want to increase their costs by making them bigger. All in all, it was incredibly cramped, and such conditions made accidents and injuries a common occurrence.

They also worked in complete darkness except for the candles or lighting they had to buy themselves.

Working in the mines was very dangerous & unhealthy and most miners who survived the physical dangers inherent in the working environment even succumbed to mine-related respiratory diseases such as silicosis in later life. Accidents were common, but compensation after an accident was very low. To make matters worse, mine owners didn’t care about the health and safety of their workers.

Beatings were also common. Sometimes for not being quick enough, sometimes for complaining, or sometimes simply just for making a mistake.

As to a number of hazards and risks miners had to face every time they went into the mines that could cause their death:

falling down a mine shaft on the way down to the coal face

falling out of the ‘bucket’ bringing you up after a shift

being hit by a ball of dug coal falling down a mine shaft as it was lifted up

flooding/drowning in the mine

collapsing roofs, shafts, and equipment/crushed to death

killed by explosions (fire damp)

suffocation by poisonous gas

being run over by a tram carrying dug coal in the mine itself

fires

ropes and chain breakages

trapped after a collapse

Additionally, underground mines were hot and damp. The air was musty and infested with coal which had the potential hazard of being flammable. This gas, also mixed with methane, had serious health effects, including: numbness, violent headaches, partial deafness, risk of choking on the thick dust, and black lung disease.

This would explain why Norton breathes so harshly in game. His lungs have likely been damaged from working so long and hard in the mines.

Regarding some statistics about the percentages of deaths from various methods according to 1 study:

Percentages of deaths caused by explosions from fire damp: 23-57%

Percentages of deaths caused by falls of roofs and sides: 40-77%

Percentages of deaths caused by misc. causes: 35-66%

As to the highest and lowest percentages of deaths for each method in this study:

Deaths by explosions: In 1878, the percentage of deaths was 41.6%. In 1884, it was 6.9%.

Deaths by falls of roof and sides, which was almost always higher than explosions: In 1881, the percentage of deaths was 47%, while in 1878, it was 33%.

Deaths by other causes: In 1878, it was 59%.

Finally, as to statistics regarding how many deaths occurred:

Between 1875-1885: 12.3k deaths, with at least 1k deaths per year.

Number of people employed in 1850, about 200,000 people employed, deaths exceeded 1k a year.

In 1877, when the number of people was employed was double that in 1850 (400,000), the deaths were a little over 1.2k a year

Safety lamps were invented eventually, which helped prevent explosions caused by the presence of methane in the pits. The flames of the lamp also helped notify miners of the invisible presence of flammable gases by burning brighter and with a tinge of blue when these flammable gases were present.

Despite how dangerous and risky it was to work in the mines, the wages were quite low. Mine owners even continued to refuse a wage increase for miners over the years.

Miners were paid by the amount and quality of the coal they produced, rather than simply by the hour. Of course this gave owners and managers plenty of ways to reduce how much they paid miners, such as claiming coal was of poor quality or rigging their scales, or by fining miners if there was too much “slack” (the smaller pieces).

The average wage of coal miners in the 1880s was somewhere between 3s (s = shillings) and 5s per day, with around 4s being closer to the normal, and 5 only if you were lucky. 4 shillings was about $1.20. Generally though wages varied greatly in different districts.

Rent was either free or around 2s a week in a colliery village, which were settlements built by the owners of coal mines to house their workers. These homes were cramped, very basic, lacked adequate sanitation, and had poor drainage. Furniture was sparse and the low wages made it difficult to afford more than the basics. During bad weather, these homes suffered especially in damp weather due to poor construction, and puddles sometimes formed on the floor. Speaking of water, sometimes it was necessary to walk long distances to find water for cooking and cleaning, as not every colliery provided water for its homes. Collieries also provided a company store, which was normally a miners’ only option for buying groceries, mining tools, and other goods. As the only store in town, companies didn’t have to worry about competition, thus they typically charged exorbitant prices compared to what people in cities paid for the same items. In some cases, miners were compelled to use the company store by mine officials. Sometimes, miners were paid instead with something that could only be used at the company store.

As to potential costs of some other expenses:

Food: about 11s a week

Soap, starch, blue, and soda: 6p a week

1 pound of candles for coal pit: about 1s

1 pound of blasting powder: 1s

Fuel (coal and wood): 2s a week

Paraffin oil (for lamp and stove) and other sundries: 1 and a half shillings a week

Clothes, gloves, and shoes: no more than maybe 2s a week

Insurance (medical attendance, weekly doctor fee): between half a shilling and 1s a week

Sharpening work tools: half a shilling

Shovels: 2 shillings

Then there’s how even if a miner wanted to work harder and longer to earn more (up to a point, as there was a limit on hours they could work and how much they could produce), this meant they’d have to pay more for sharpening, oil, powder, and tools.

It was typical for miners to have their cost of living be about the same as their wages. Many ended up in deficit after all their expenses, which isn’t even mentioning how many suffered from malnutrition. If you were one of the lucky to have some left over, it was usually very little. Maybe no more than about 1s, which was all one would have for tools (like picks and shovels) contingencies, savings, or amusements.

This was just 1 estimate. As for another, you can read this link to get another idea regarding how much money a miner had (it’s the story of an American miner around the 1890s and 1900s): https://ehistory.osu.edu/exhibitions/gildedage/content/MinersStory. In other cases, a miner may receive a deceptively high basic wage, but a system of fines could quickly reduce their pay, and then there’s how they had to buy their own materials (like candles and stoppages for dust or gas).

Miners worked not because they wanted to, not because they wanted to be a miner, but because they had to in order to live, even though the wages were so low it was common to be in debt most of the time, especially if you got sick or hurt in an accident. Even after 15 years, a miner wasn’t much better than when they started. For the most part, miners don't want money for luxuries. They just want enough for a clean shirt or enough to keep them at school until they get a reasonable education.

Asking for a raise in wages also didn’t work. There were attempts to form unions and demand a raise from mine owners. Their demands were refused each time, at which point these men went on strike and refused to work until their demands were met. Owners retaliated by dismissing all the men involved, requiring workers to disclaim any association with the unions, recruiting strike-breakers, and eventually dissolved the union. Even when the owners had to dismiss the entire workforce, they were easily able to replace everyone. And when miners were dismissed, this also usually meant evicting the miners from their homes, as most men lived in housing (colliery villages) that the mine owner owned.

To summarize, Norton is very poor. Wages were low, and expenses (rent, food, tools, clothes, etc…) normally ended up using most of what he earned. Conditions were dangerous, with so many hazards that he was at risk of dying nearly every day, and owners treated their miners no better than slaves. Norton wants money to get out of poverty and to change his fate. He wanted to change his situation so he didn’t have to worry if he had enough money for food or if he’d live to see tomorrow.

This is backed up by a Famitsu article on his backstory (I’ll give the entire article later). The beginning of this article says:

“Norton Campbell in the eyes of others was always someone hard to deal with, whose emotions were as changeable as the weather. But all knew that he worked tirelessly to break free of his impoverished fate, and this intimidated them”.

Norton’s 2nd deduction proves that Norton was hardworking. He worked longer and harder than any of the other miners, meaning he probably worked the maximum hours allowed at the mine.

Deduction 2: Diligence

The more effort, the more rewards?

Work Record: Norton Campbell is always the first to go down into the mines and the last to leave it.

Despite his effort, as I mentioned earlier, things didn’t change much from when he had started. His fate still seemed to be to die poor, potentially to one of the hazards he faced every day, or due to some illness like many other miners did. He was getting desperate. So, he decided to try something different. This where Norton’s 1st deduction comes in. Norton decides to try to find gold, but he doesn’t know where to start looking. Therefore, he decides to ask the older miners due to all of their experience (as they’ve worked much longer than him and most other miners). To convince them to talk to him (since many only care about themselves and wouldn’t share knowledge about gold, which they could use themselves), as well as to have an excuse to be at hospice (as he might not be allowed there otherwise), he helps take care of the old miners.

Deduction 1: Kindness

Is that an Olive Branch you just threw, or...

A Good Deed: Norton, a miner, always visited the hospice and cared for the homeless old miners.

His 1st deduction mentions “throwing an olive branch”, which means to make peace or reconcile. In other words, this is a phrase that’s used when 2 people or groups who have fallen out attempt to forgive and get together again. This could potentially connect back to the Famitsu article. Remember how it said people were intimidated by how hard Norton worked to change his fate? What if those people included the old miners? What if they didn’t like him and/or basically have a bad relationship with him? What if that’s why Norton has to “act friendly” and do something nice like taking care of them just to convince them to talk to him and answer his question? Normally, these people wouldn’t want to talk to or help Norton out at all. Therefore, that could be why Norton has to offer an “olive branch”. Maybe Norton didn’t like them either, especially if they were avoiding him for being “intimidated” or did something else bad to him due to their negative feelings of him. That could be why Norton may only be “acting” friendly or why he also has to make peace with them (due to not liking them in return for their negative feelings and treatment of him).

Due to the environment he grew up in, especially after losing his parents and being all alone, he became a loner, quiet, and unsociable. He didn’t have any friends or anyone to care about him, and he didn’t have much time for anything beyond work. The fact he had to grow up and mature quickly worsened matters. From being a miner all his life, constantly seeing the ugly sides of people (especially the mine owners who treated him like a slave) and learning not to trust anyone but himself (so he never gets betrayed), he grew up in a world that taught him survival of the fittest. That’s why he tends to not let anyone get close to him, why he avoids forming relationships, and why he primarily cares about himself over others. It was the only way that let him live. But to change his fate, he has to stay on people’s good sides, especially the mine owners, but also with the people that don’t like him.

It’s because of this, plus how hard Norton works, that he receives so many recommendation letters from his employers in his deduction 3. The reason none of them could “keep him for long” was because Norton sought a wide variety of skills and as much experience as he could get. This was because more skills and experience would make him a more valuable worker, which would hopefully increase his pay and thus work towards his goal of changing his fate, but the other reason is, as I mentioned earlier, Norton is a curious person who enjoys learning.

Deduction 3: Efficiency

We need more trials.

A Stack of Recommendation Letters: It can be seen that every one of Norton’s previous employers appreciated his hard work and expressed their regret at being unable to keep him for long.

(Note: in other versions, it adds that Norton is “diligent” and “studious”)

In any case, what’s important to note from Norton helping the old miners is that this is when he meets Benny. He is another old, homeless miner mentioned in Norton’s 1st letter who claims to be a friend of Norton’s father. Benny is the one who ends up having the knowledge Norton wants and gives him a list of 13 mines.

The 13th mine is crossed out though.

Deduction 4: Persistence

People won’t be unlucky forever, right?

1-Page Note: There are 13 items listed. The first 12 appear to be names of places, and the last one is crossed out.

I think the reason is because Benny planned to betray Norton later because he wanted all the gold for himself. He just needed Norton’s help to actually get to and find the gold. Benny was in hospice, meaning he was weak, old, and dying. He didn’t have the strength to do all this on his own, thus why he needed someone young and strong like Norton. Especially since Norton was the one known to work extremely long and hard and was complimented by a lot of his employers. Of course Benny would want that person to be the one to help him out.

The 13th mine is Golden Cave. We know it has gold based on its backstory (and on the gold that we can see in the Golden Cave map at the bottom of the mine).

Golden Cave Backstory

No one knows who first found the gold.

Believing that there was wealth and riches to be found here, people rushed to this barren mountain.

After one miner after another found gold dust in the mountain stream, the owner of the mountain, Count Barriere, ordered the road to the mountain to be closed.

As soon as possible, a mining site was built in the mountain and a wooden shaft was erected.

Digging into the ground, they proceeded downward.

They were digging hundreds of meters deep until the cave-in accident

Benny had to know about the gold either from hearing the rumors or because he previously worked at Golden Cave. Due to how he says “I'm dreaming of returning to the mines day and night, looking for that sparkling gold ore”, we know he was obsessed with finding gold, backed up by how badly he wants to leave hospice, which he calls a “cesspit” and “waiting to die” in other versions. He attempted to convince Norton to help him and work with him by saying he was a friend of Norton’s father.

Norton’s 1st Birthday Letter (Pascal’s translation)

A letter that was not sent in time

To Norton:

You brat!

Why did you leave without even so much as a goodbye, and stop visiting me?

Staying in this cesspit is just like waiting to die; I can’t take it anymore.

Day and night I dream of returning to that mine and finding that glittering golden motherlode–

You wouldn’t!

You wouldn’t, right?

You wouldn’t go first, alone, right?

If so, then you really are such a, such a…

Don’t abandon me, I beg of you.

Just what kind of heart lies hidden behind that face of yours; sometimes gloomy, at other times glittering with a brilliant smile?

Even an old man… You wouldn’t deceive an old miner who spent half his life toiling in the coal mines, would you?

Norton, my good boy, for your father’s sake.

Don’t abandon his old partner.

No!

No… Norton, damn it, you piece of fool’s gold.

Iron Chisel Benny

Benny also describes Norton as sometimes “gloomy” and other times smiling (which fits with how the Famitsu article describes Norton). As discussed before, Norton was gloomy over his current life and his inability to change it despite how long and hard he worked. He had to act “friendly” as part of getting on his employers’ good sides and attempting to earn more, but also from having to offer an “olive branch” to the old miners. The old miners likely were the ones “intimidated” by how hard Norton worked to change his fate and likely had other negative feelings of him or treated him badly (thus why Norton would need to throw an “olive branch” to get them to talk to him about gold mines).

Further evidence Benny likely planned to betray Norton comes from Norton’s Gold Digger and Ronald of Ness skins. I think Marshall from Season 10 Essence 1’s backstory parallels Benny, while for Ronald Benny should parallel Scrooge. With Marshall, he’s mentioned to be the reason for keeping Gold Digger from finding gold based on Gold Digger’s description in other versions.

Gold Digger

"The golden valley, the golden river, the wind blowing through my ears, the sweet smell of gold ore…this is what I dream of day after day! Seduced by Marshall, the simple gold prospector lost his chance to take advantage of the gold mines, and has been impoverished ever since."

With Scrooge, he was the reason Norton’s father got accused for Lachesis’ death after Scrooge faked Lachesis’ death to cheat her insurance policy due to his greed and desire for money.

Speaking of Benny planning to betray Norton, I think it’s possible Benny may have been involved in the death of Norton’s parents. I already discussed how Benny parallels Scrooge who contributed to the death of Ronald’s father. Besides Scrooge and Golden Rose Theater, there’s also Teahouse Tales and Norton’s Sparrow skin. During Teahouse Tales, Lady Thirteen, Sparrow’s adopted mother, is assassinated by Flying Guillotine. Both Scrooge and Flying Guillotine were the coworkers of Norton’s parental figures and essentially betray this parental figure, causing Norton to be all alone afterwards.

Besides Scrooge and Flying Guillotine, there’s Marshall from Season 10 Essence 1. I already said Marshall kept Norton as Gold Digger from looking for gold, but Marshall in that essence also killed anyone that actually attempted to find the gold. The reason for this was because there was no real gold. It was just fool’s gold, but they wanted people to think there was gold around, as they had built a town and casino which is how they earned most of their money. If people discovered the gold was fake, they’d lose all the money they were earning from the miners that came to the town, attending the casino, or buying the dynamite from Western Baron.

Norton takes the list without bringing Benny with him. As I said before, I believe Benny wanted all the gold for himself and planned to betray Norton in the end (this could be backed up by Benny’s obviously not great personality based on the letter, which depicts Benny as foul-mouthed, emotional, obsessed, petulant, selfish, etc…). It’s possible Norton suspected Benny might betray him and thus why he didn’t bring Benny along. There’s also what I said earlier about the olive branch and how Norton didn’t like all of these people because of how they potentially treated him and their negative feelings of him (due to being “intimidated” by how hard he worked).

Finally, the last reason Norton couldn’t bring Benny along even if he wanted to comes from Benny’s age and current condition. Hospice is care that focuses on comfort and quality of life for people who are terminally ill or dying. Benny was old and didn’t have the strength or health to mine anything anymore. Norton knew it was more effort than it was worth to bring Benny along, especially as once they were at the mine Norton would still have to do all the work himself. Norton likely knew Benny was close to death. It’s even implied by how Norton’s 1st letter is called an “Unsent Letter” or “a letter that was not sent in time”. The reason it never got sent is because Benny died before he could send it.

Anyways, Norton sets out to each of the 13 mines Benny gave him in the hopes of finding gold.

As we know from Norton’s deduction 5, we know he had no luck at any of these 12 mines. There’s a chance Benny only gave him these 12 mines to hide which one actually might have gold in it.

Deduction 5: Patience

Next time…

Diary: Tomorrow, I will go to the last place recorded by the old man. If there’s still nothing, then I hope he...

After going to 12 different mines and finding nothing, Norton’s desperation is growing, so he directs his frustration at Benny. Norton is patient and persistent, but it’s taken him so long to go through each mine. He’s losing hope. Unfortunately, the last mine he has to check is mine number 13, and this number lives up to its unlucky reputation.

The 13th mine is Golden Cave. This mine is different, and not just because of the gold inside. It was struck by a meteorite (the “unidentified object”), resulting in the mine becoming unstable.

Deduction 6: Courage

The more dangers, the more opportunities.

A Geological Report: Part of the tunnel had been blocked by an unidentified object. One small mistake could cause the inner structure of the mine to collapse.

After an amount of time, Norton’s desperation grows. Despite the blockage and instability of the mine, Norton decides to try to use dynamite to be able to search deeper inside the mine. The dynamite was likely to remove the “blockage” preventing them from going deeper into the mine. But it’s illegal to steal dynamite, so he recruits several other miners to help him and accomplish this without being caught. Norton isn’t the only one who wants to find gold and get out of poverty, which is why he managed to get others to help him out.

Deduction 7: Alert

You need to be more cautious.

News: Due to the use of gunpowder and detonators, the era of simple rock drilling is coming to an end.

Deduction 8: Share

You need more helpers.

Mining Precautions: Theft of explosives is illegal and will be reported to the police once discovered.

Unfortunately, as is warned in deduction 6, the mine collapses as a result of the explosion from the dynamite. We know not all of the miners caught in the accident were killed, based on the miner from Hastur’s 2nd letter who states “the nightmare from the mine and the explosion which took my legs and eyes”, but it’s likely a number of the others did die.

Deduction 9: Wisdom

Smart people know when to hold on and when to let go.

An Accident Report: An explosion collapsed a mine on the outskirts of the city. It’s suspected that the miners had mishandled the explosives, and the police expressed that there’s little chance for anyone to survive.

Norton was lucky enough to survive the accident, but the explosion left him severely burned and scarred. He was also left trapped in the mine for some time before he could be rescued. It was probably only for a couple days, if anything because I don’t think the police or other officials would care to keep looking for survivors after too much time. Fortunately, there commonly is water in mines, so he wouldn’t have died of thirst, and he wouldn’t have reached the point where starvation would’ve become an issue (aka, I don’t think he needed to resort to cannibalism. Even if he were that hungry, I think he was in a different section of the mine from the other miners that were trapped after the accident, since if he were with them, there’s a good chance he would’ve died with them. It makes sense considering mines in the latter half of the 19th century were required to have 2 shafts, and were also divided into different section. So even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t have been near any of the other miners to cannibalize).

Deduction 10: Luck

That’s only because the rest are just unlucky.

1-Page Case: Moderate 1burns to the face. Suspected to have been caused by direct exposure to excessive temperatures.

Regarding more specifics about Norton’s potential injuries, let me give a real life example of someone else who was in similar circumstances to Norton (from the link I gave earlier). After one accident led to an explosion and being trapped, the person was horribly burned over their whole body, while his coworkers died. This person, besides his burns, also had several broken limbs and internal injuries. He had to lay in bed for 14 weeks and couldn’t work for 7 more weeks after he got out of bed. He earned no money when he was hurt and had to have his expenses paid by his family to manage.

Going back to the accident, Norton is quite smart and should’ve been aware of the risks. Part of it was likely due to him having gotten used to the risks, as he’s had to deal with them all his life. But I wonder if the other part is if maybe he didn’t know about this report about the mine being unstable after being hit by a meteorite. The owner of this mine is Count Barriere, the same person who owns Moonlit River Park and contributed to/helped cause the Hullabaloo tragedy.

Moonlit River Park

Moonlit River Park was once a popular local attraction. Hosted by Count Barrier, the majestic city walls and roller coaster tracks across the Moon River were built in the Moon River area. The Moon River runs from south to north, passes through the track, flows in and out from under the city walls, which also creates a unique scene of this theme park, with the Moon River as the boundary line, and an approximately symmetrical pattern. In the early days of operation, this roller coaster track brought a steady stream of tourists to the Moon River. With the increase in income, Count Barrier has successively added haunted houses and merry-go-rounds, and signed a contract with the traveling circus called "Hullaballo", introducing malformed shows and circus performances. The bustling tourists made the Moon River Park famous, and the residents of the towns in the distance also came here.

Good revenues made Count Barrier decide to hold a grand event. Moon River Park will be open all night, closing the door. The closed park will allow people to temporarily be free from the uninteresting long night of curfew. The price is too high to stop the enthusiastic guests, and the tickets are sold out quickly. Laughter, fine wine, music, and tangy food aromas come as no surprise, this event will become a topic for the residents throughout the year. But no one expected that a crazy circus employee would turn the joyous carnival night into a nightmare. People cried and screamed, trying to escape the horrible figure wielding a chainsaw, but the locked gates and high walls cut off all the ways out. The only survivor was a young lady who jumped into the Moon River at the beginning of the chaos and escaped from the park under the wall following the current. People no longer talk about Moon River Park, it has become a secret that nearby residents cannot tell. It is said that even if these words are only spoken gently, a miserable cry will sound in the ear.

We know from Golden Cave’s backstory combined with the line for the map from in game and from the Little Girl’s comment about Golden Cave during the Time of Reunion event, that he apparently was desperately looking for something.

Despite that not a single piece of gold was ever found, Count Barriere still got what he wanted with this land.

I’ve also already discussed how bad mine owners typically were back in these days, what with treating miners as slaves, willing to dismiss and replace their entire workforce if they complained or asked for a raise in wages, not caring about health and safety just so they could save money, and so on. Especially with how Barriere is connected to and willing to help cause a massacre, I don’t think he would’ve cared enough to warn his workers about the mine being unstable. Maybe some of the miners that worked there when the meteorite first struck might know, but it’s been some time since then, and Norton, who is rather new to this mine, would definitely not have been told, either by Benny or Barriere. There’s a chance the 13th mine was crossed of due to Benny being aware that mine was dangerous, but I still don’t think it was the only reason, not with how obsessed he was with finding gold.

In which case, if Norton didn’t know about the mine being unstable, that could have contributed to his willingness to risk using dynamite in the mine.

While Norton was trapped in the mine, he never did find the gold. I believe the other miners trapped in a different part of the mine separate from where Norton was were with the gold. This comes from how, when Golden Cave was released, near the gold is where the ghouls could be found. These ghouls were likely the very miners that died in the accident, and are probably the very reason no one can get close to the gold now.

To be more specific, these ghouls are most likely to be “wendigos”. These monsters from folklore are affiliated with cannibalism, as any human who cannibalized to survive were said to turn into a wendigo. These creatures have an endless craving for human flesh, and whenever they ate another person, they supposedly grew in proportion to the meals they ate so they could never be full. They were cursed to wander, eternally seeking to sate their hunger until nothing was left and they starved to death. Wendigos are also associated with murder, greed, and gluttony. Some have even said that people overpowered by their greed could turn into wendigos. Regarding descriptions of wendigos, the most common include glowing eyes, long yellow fangs, long tongues, claws, tall (10-15 feet sometimes), were thin and emaciated (as a result of constantly starving), skin stretched so tight you could see their bones, sunken eyes, and looked skeletal with ashen and decaying skin.

To back up this idea, there’s how the word “starving” actually appears on the map for Golden Cave. This relates to how I was just explaining wendigos are associated with “starvation”.

Norton on the other hand ended up where the meteorite was. While he was trapped, Norton took a chunk of the meteorite with him. This is what he used to make his magnets, which are called “meteorite magnets”, and the rod in his nose.

The Famitsu article even specifically states this is what happened. But that’s not the only thing it says. It also mentions that his magnets, the things made from the meteorite, “disturbed his brain” or that the accident “tangled him up inside”. This is important because it says right before this that “his personality became all the more extreme” after the accident, “at times gloomy and depressed, while at other times explosively hot tempered and avaricious”.

Famitsu Article (Prospector Profile)

Norton Campbell in the eyes of others was always someone hard to deal with, whose emotions were as changeable as the weather. But all knew that he worked tirelessly to break free of his impoverished fate, and this intimidated them. When he fortunately survived a terrible mining accident, nobody came to hear out his experiences during the time. All they did was give him a few token words of comfort, and then they gave him a wide, wide berth. Norton himself never once brought up the terrible experience again, only silently polishing the large chunk of magnetic ore he received in the accident into a tool for prospecting metals.

Eventually he gave up manual labor, and became a prospector. But his personality became all the more extreme, at times gloomy and depressed, while at times explosively hot tempered and avaricious. Rumor has it that the magnets disturbed his brain, or that that terrible mining incident tangled him up inside. But one thing never changed. He always sought out chances to change his fate. When the invitation to the Manor appeared before him, those incredible sums of wealth looked to him like his next stepping stone! Come on, how could a ‘game’ be any darker than that mining incident?

I think part of the reason Norton became “more extreme”, according to both the character relations page and the famitsu article, was because of the meteorite at Golden Cave.

Famitsu Article

But his personality became all the more extreme, at times gloomy and depressed, while at times explosively hot tempered and avaricious.

The meteorite seems to have an effect similar to the one described in the Season 19 Essence 1 design notes. Specifically, it says something is influencing the participants at the manor and drawing out their inner “ugliness and desires”, until it arouses the “evil” hidden in them. Similar to this, there was a fern from the 1st anniversary package that was labeled with “Know Thyself”. Ferns are all throughout the backstory trailers and skins for Season 18 Essence 3 (Source of Evil) and Season 19 Essence 1 (Hollow), which is why I’m saying this fern and its label relates to this same info from the design notes. We also know that Barriere wanted something besides the gold from Golden Cave, and he did get it. It’s possible he was after the meteorite, which might be the thing influencing the people at the manor, based on how Golden Cave is on the same mountain that Oletus Manor is, the mountain Barriere is stated to own in Golden Cave’s backstory.

We know this is the same mountain Oletus Manor is on because, in Golden Cave’s backstory it says, after gold dust was found, Barriere “ordered the road to the mountain to be closed”. This matches up with the “pallets” Bane is stated to have found in his deduction 2 that “blocked the road” (on the mountain to Oletus Manor).

Bane’s Deduction 2: Remove Obstacles

Someone has blocked the road with pallets. What are they trying to do?

This is still a peaceful forest, despite these unsightly pallets. They'll get caught in the antlers.

So, if Barriere managed to get the meteorite, which is possible considering we know after the accident Norton was trapped with it, and if Norton was rescued that means the way to the meteorite was also clear. So if Barriere owned the mountain Oletus Manor was on, and he could’ve occupied the manor after the tragedy that killed the DeRoss couple before Baron DeRoss becomes owner, maybe the meteorite was moved there. It’s also possible that the meteorite simply being in Golden Cave, which isn’t far from the manor, that was still close enough to affect everyone in the manor without being moved.

In any case, the point I’m trying to make is the meteorite may have the very effect described in the Season 19 Essence 1 design notes, which draws out a person’s “inner ugliness and desires” and arouses the “evil” hidden in them. In which case, that would affect and enhance Norton’s desperation and “desire” to change his fate and find gold. As a result, that’s why he was more willing to do something risky like use dynamite.

After he’s rescued from the mine, it takes a long time for him to recover. Based on that 1 example, Norton may have broken several bones after the collapse which, combined with being burned over most of his body, it likely took him several months to fully recover (similar to the man from the example I gave). This would have cost him greatly, probably using up a lot of what savings he had. As he’s recovering, he attempts to talk to people about “his experiences”, but everyone just kept avoiding him. From the Famitsu article, it says they “All they did was give him a few token words of comfort, and then they gave him a wide, wide berth”. As a result, Norton becomes quiet and even more unsociable than he was before, and apparently “never once brought up the terrible experience again”.

Norton was traumatized by the mine accident, and as we see from his biography on the character relations page: “he changed his profession and became a geological surveyor to make a better living and to get away from the darkness of the mines”. The Famitsu article mentions something similar, about him becoming a prospector instead after the accident.

Famitsu Article

Eventually he gave up manual labor, and became a prospector.

His dislikes also prove this, as he is listed as having a dislike of “dark and enclosed environments”.

This means Norton acquired a fear of the dark (nyctophobia) and confined spaces (claustrophobia) after his experience of the mine accident and his time being trapped until he was rescued. Obviously, he doesn’t want to go down into the mines anymore, but he especially doesn’t want to go anywhere near Golden Cave. Part of his trauma also likely comes from knowing and seeing how he hurt and killed people. Besides that, I wonder if more of his trauma comes from encountering any ghouls in Golden Cave or even something to do with either the meteorite or the large eye down in Golden Cave.

Speaking of the eye, there’s 1 theory that the eye belongs to Gla’aki.

He is a “Great Old One” that came to earth with (imprisoned in) a meteorite from space. When the meteor landed, Gla’aki was freed. The depression where the meteorite fell became a lake, and Gla’aki lived at the bottom of the lake. He has countless metal spikes on his body (like a hedgehog) that he uses when he turns a human into one of his followers by piercing them with one of these spikes and injecting them with fluids that allow him control the person and their thoughts. Gradually, this person essentially turns into a living corpse or undead puppet (a process apparently called “The Green Decay”), and after a long enough time, if they are exposed to sunlight, they will turn to dust. Gla’aki’s followers can help this happen by holding down a person if they try to resist. New followers act almost just like a normal person (eating and drinking and working during the day with no problems), and they are independent and intelligent to some extent, but the older they get, the more zombie-like they become. Gla’aki is also apparently a telepathic creature, as he uses radio waves or a “magnetic force” generated by his brain to control a person.

Interesting coincidence, but the author of the story about Gla’aki was a man by the name of Ramsey Campbell.

The meteorite Gla’aki came from was said to have left a depression that became a lake. This can relate to Golden Cave as Golden Cave and Lakeside, which has a lake, are connected.

First, there’s the similar green lights (fireflies most likely) in both locations.

Then there’s how one of the exit gates in Lakeside leads to Golden Cave (it probably even connects with the exit gate on the bottom (3rd) level of Golden Cave).

Also, there’s all the green in Lakeside, including in the sky, connects with all the green in Golden Cave, including the eyeball in the mine and the little green fire things. (All the green makes me think of Gla’aki’s “green decay”).

The fact that there’s a mine near Lakeside Village comes from Fiona’s 1st letter (with the “mountain” it mentions relating to how the Golden Cave is located in a mountain owned by Count Barriere, based on the background for Golden Cave).

I’ve already explained that this “narrow mountain path” is the one that leads to Oletus Manor, the one referenced in Bane’s deduction 2.

This mine is also what the disciples call their “sanctuary”, the one according to Fiona’s 1st letter that the remains of their offerings are thrown into for the “last part of the ceremony”. Yidhra’s 1st letter confirms the sanctuary is the mine.

Considering what I said earlier about the ghouls and them potentially being wendigos, I wonder if all the food thrown into Golden Cave is going to them (and thus what if the remains of their sacrifices and the last part of their ceremony could be for Gla’aki?).

Going back to Norton after the accident, despite everything, Norton hasn’t given up on “changing his fate” and getting out of poverty. Maybe part of the reason is because he didn’t want the deaths of the miners at Golden Cave to go to waste. He couldn’t give up yet.

Famitsu Article

But one thing never changed. He always sought out chances to change his fate. When the invitation to the Manor appeared before him, those incredible sums of wealth looked to him like his next stepping stone!

After the accident, Norton became a geological prospector, which is how he is attempting to earn money rather than returning to being a miner and having to go back down into any mines. A prospector is someone who searches for mineral deposits, while geophysics applies physics to investigate and define objects or materials in the earth’s subsurface without direct contact.

Specifically, with his magnets, Norton is performing magnetic prospection.

The magnetic field of the Earth magnetizes rocks to a variable degree which is determined by their magnetic susceptibility, intensity, and magnetizing force.

A magnetic survey is one of the exploration tools used for measuring localized changes in the Earth’s magnetic field, caused by sedimentary rocks or mineral ore bodies. The magnetic properties of mineral ore bodies and igneous rocks allow them to be easily identified and mapped, via magnetic surveys. This survey involves mapping changes in the magnetic field to determine the shape, size, and location of such ore bodies. In other words, with this method, you examine magnetic anomalies in the field to find various minerals.

Magnetometers is a tool used when performing magnetic surveys to measure the strength and direction of the magnetic field in the vicinity of the instrument. This method can be used, not just to find magnetic deposits, but also to map archaeological structures or find things like iron artifacts (which explains some things like Norton’s small furnace accessory).

To go back to what magnetic susceptibility is, it is a measure of the ability of a substance to be magnetized in the presence of an external magnetic field. In principle, magnetic susceptibility measurement is based on the amount and type of magnetic minerals within the rocks. In cases of positive magnetic susceptibility, the material within the rock can be ferromagnetic, antiferromagnetic, or paramagnetic. The material is said to be diamagnetic if the magnetic susceptibility is negative. Depending on what the magnetic susceptibility is, you can identify what kind of mineral is nearby.

Based on the Famitsu article, Norton’s magnets apparently serve to help him perform this method. With everything involved and required for this, Norton is definitely quite smart and potentially ahead of his time. It fits considering Norton is “full of curiosity” and loves learning. He may not have been able to get or afford much of an education, but obviously he’s gotten to where he is by himself, likely by reading and studying on his own. Not to mention, I think while this is definitely an alternate way for him to earn money, I also think he’s doing it because he enjoys it more than being a miner. From his birthday info, we know he likes “ore evaluation”, “ore excavation”, and “ore collecting”, while the character relations page states he likes “precious metals” and “natural gems”.

Norton Campbell

Birthday: March 19

Occupation: Prospector

Hobbi(es): Ore Collecting

Good at: Ore Appraisal, Ore Excavation

Dislike(s): Dark & Closed Environments

Like(s): Precious Metals, Natural Gems

Moving on, the next thing that happens is Norton’s 2nd birthday letter.

According to the character relations page’s summary, someone has asked Norton to assassinate some woman at Oletus Manor, a woman Norton considers to potentially be “arrogant”. Based on the Time of Reunion event, it’s possible this woman may be Melly (who is shown with him in the animation videos and during the in-game event). This relates to how 1 of Norton’s dislikes is “arrogant rich people” according to the character relations page. Arrogant rich people like the mine owners who served as his employers. The 2nd half of the letter talks a lot about why he dislikes the rich, but especially when he says “The poor find it difficult to lead a comfortable life, while all the rich need to do is wave their banknotes around”.

It’s because of this job that Norton heads to Oletus manor.

But there’s something else about this letter that I want to discuss. In this letter, Norton is talking to himself. This letter really gets into how Norton has 2 sides. We’ve already seen this brought up by the Famtisu article and how he switches between 2 extremes: gloomy and depressed, and then hot-tempered and avaricious. This same article talked about how Norton’s brain is getting screwed up by the meteorite and how it’s influencing him, and I’ve explained earlier that the meteorite’s influence is to draw out a person’s inner “ugliness and desires”, until it arouses the “evil” hidden in them. We’ve already heard from Benny that Norton had a “polarized façade” even before the mine accident, but that was only because he had to act friendly to get the info he needed. He’s always been gloomy based on what Benny says, and the reason for that is because of his current “fate” and life (of hardship and poverty). But it’s not until after the mine accident and meteorite that I think Norton actually developed 2 sides. The “gloomy” side should be Norton’s real personality, while the greedy side is the one being influenced by the meteorite like the Famitsu article says.

The fact the character relations page describes Norton as “thrifty” rather than greedy helps prove Norton’s greedy side is not the real Norton, and is the one influenced by the meteorite.

This greedy side is the one in the letter trying to convince Norton to take the job and kill the woman so he can get all the money being offered. The fact this side of Norton is working so hard to convince Norton shows that Norton doesn’t want to kill the woman.

Norton having 2 sides also fits with how I mentioned the name Campbell means “crooked mouth”. This matches with how in official art and in-game half of Norton’s facial expression is smiling, while the other isn’t (something closer to a frown or unhappy).

From all this, especially the letter, it’s possible that Norton (at least due to the meteorite’s influence) has either dissociative identity disorder (aka split personality disorder) or bipolar disorder. Bipolar disorder is a mental disorder that causes unusual shifts in mood, energy, activity levels, concentration, and a person’s ability to carry out day-to-day tasks. People with this have periods of unusually intense emotions, changes in sleep patterns, activity levels, and uncharacteristic behavior – often without recognizing their likely harmful or undesirable effects (mood episodes). Moods range from very “up”, elated, irritable, or energized behavior (known as manic episodes) to very “down”, sad, indifferent, or hopeless periods (known as depressive episodes).

Besides his personality, this letter also goes a bit into Norton’s life (at least from the perspective of the greedy side):

Over the last 20 years, I lived like a rat in the gutter. I spent days under the ground in the dark just so I could earn a minimal living. Scars from the blasts crawled all over my face like maggots. The constant scorn and ridicule... I endured it every time just so I'd get a chance to climb up the ladder.

It's ridiculous how much effort I put into this—anyway, I've finally managed to crawl out from the rat hole. I no longer have to pick and pull on the disgusting ash. Those who did nothing but laugh at me deserve to stay underground and be stepped on like maggots forever.

It confirms he earned very little and had a “minimal living”, or as the letter puts it “like a rat in the gutter”. Due to being a miner, he spent most of his days “under the ground in the dark”. He also mentions the “constant scorn and ridicule” that he had to “endure” every day just so he’d “get a chance to climb up the ladder”, which refers to Norton’s desire to change his fate and get out of poverty. This plus how he talks about “those who did nothing but laugh at me” is similar to the Famitsu article talking about people being “intimated” by how hard he worked. These things should go with the mention of having to offer an “olive branch” when he was acting friendly by caring for the old miners to get info about gold mines. This should prove that, the reason Norton had to offer an “olive branch” aka make peace or reconcile is because the very people he had to act friendly too, including these old miners, were the same ones Norton is saying gave him “constant scorn and ridicule” and “did nothing but laugh at me”. They laughed at how hard he worked because they didn’t understand why he did it. They laughed at his dream to get out of poverty, likely because they knew it would be essentially impossible for him to do. They thought he was just wasting his time and tiring himself out for nothing. This also explains why Norton didn’t think twice about leaving Benny behind. None of these people had ever treated him nicely or actually cared about him. They’d only ever treated him badly. So he decided not to care about them, to emotionally distance himself from all their insults so he wouldn’t be hurt by them.

Last thing about the letter is the very last part: “Such a simple ‘game’, such a generous employer. Clear an obstacle and you'll get a load of money. Isn't this much simpler than what you used to do?”. This parallels exactly what the Famitsu article said: “When the invitation to the Manor appeared before him, those incredible sums of wealth looked to him like his next stepping stone! Come on, how could a ‘game’ be any darker than that mining incident?”. What I find interesting is how both essentially state how they don’t think this “game” could be any harder than what he used to do or darker than the mine accident. He’s already always risking his life and has already been through a traumatizing experience. Any game, even a game that could include killing other people or potentially dying himself, doesn’t faze him at all. His life is already worse than anything this game could put him through.

I don’t think Norton at this point is even afraid of dying. This is proven by how Norton literally smiles when he gets downed in game. Part of it comes from his guilt from the mine accident. He made a huge mistake that cost some people their lives, and left him with lasting scars, both mental and physical. The other part comes from just how hard his life has been. That and the fact he’s had to face the risk of dying every day he works as a miner. This is nothing new for him.

#idv #identity v #identity v norton #idv norton #idv prospector #identity v prospector #norton campbell #idv norton campbell #identity v norton campbell #sirenjose analyses and theories

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