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delirious-donna · 9 months ago

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Museum Mishaps [Part Six]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: It's been two days since that night at the bar, and Kento is the one to suggest a trip to the museum. Leaving you to wonder... is it a date?

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: SFW except for one small mention of masturbation, humour, forced proximity, two oblivious idiots, misunderstandings, a little bickering, Kento is a museum nerd

Part Five | Series Masterlist | Part Seven

The weekend came and went without further incident between yourself and Kento. That wasn’t to say that things were perfect, but it no longer felt awkward when the two of you occupied the same room. It was much like living with a roommate, which you supposed it was, and you had dealt with that in your first year of college without maiming or killing anyone. Although, you couldn’t recall wanting to fuck your roommate either, so perhaps the comparison wasn’t accurate after all.

Whilst the memory of almost blurting out your late-night wandering hands still burnt freshly in your mind, the rest of the evening had been saved by it. The heat of Kento’s rejection didn’t sting too badly once he turned those hazel eyes on you, suspicion pinning you in place. Anything was better than the look he had given you in the bar.

Thankfully, the banter and easy conversation returned. It was easier to tease him about the incident than dwell on it. Heaven knows you weren’t going to make another move like that. You’d play it off as some silly joke rather than see your feelings hurt. Kento wasn’t interested, and that was okay. You weren’t everyone’s cup of tea, you understood that. Knowing where you stood now, it was a lot easier to build those bonds with your best friend’s brother—for that was all he could ever be.

Kento, on the other hand, felt like an opportunity had slipped through his fingers. It was gone before he could react or try to claw it back. Whilst he was glad that your good humour returned, he couldn’t help but fixate on those unspoken words. It was hard to look past the idea that something was staring him right in the face, and he simply couldn’t bring the image into focus to understand it.

So many times, his mouth had opened, words on the tip of his tongue, only to shut it again. His lack of courage irritated him. Handfuls of his neatly parted hair pushed back to hide how badly he wanted to scrub a palm down his face.

He was no coward.

Except he was.

The dreams were worse than ever. There were never full scenes but enough lingering fragments that tormented him each morning upon waking. Bright sunshine smiles, the warmth of a touch he wasn’t accustomed to and the sound of his name. Such torture, and perhaps, if he weren’t wearing his obliviousness as armour to protect his heart, he would realise that his brain was trying to tell him something.

He was ashamed to admit that he had masturbated more in these three days than he had in almost an entire year. He was more ashamed that he felt more relaxed than he had in an even longer time than that. Whilst he still followed a lot of his daily routine, being able to deviate or change things around was rather freeing, and of course, he wouldn’t put any of it down to the relief he was giving to his body. Preposterous.

Kento missed your presence when you skipped out the door on an adventure he wasn’t invited to. Raising a hand half-heartedly when you waved your goodbyes and clock-watching until you returned. Your stories were fast becoming the best part of his day. Listening raptly to you rave about this quaint little second-hand bookstore you discovered and expressing so emphatically how much you were sure he would love the place, he looked forward to it. It felt like he was rediscovering the city he had lived in for years through fresh eyes and he enjoyed your unique take on the world.

His smile was genuine, if not tinged bittersweet. It was warming that you thought of him when he wasn’t around, but it would be so much better if he could be there with you, and that was quite the realisation to swallow.

In the end, it was that sense of missing out that caused him to blurt out an invitation this morning. The two of you sat side by side at the kitchen island savouring the coffee he had brewed for you both, whilst you thought out loud about where today might take you.

“There’s a wildlife photography exhibition at the National Museum. Kento paused, pretending not to be eyeing you over the corner of his newspaper. “I was thinking of going… would you like to join me?”

He waited with bated breath, silently cursing how nervous he felt and already working on how he would cover his disappointment when you inevitably declined his offer.

“Yes, please! That sounds like fun. I’ve never been to the National Museum before, could we look around as well?”

Kento blinked. In his head, he was ready to say not to worry and that he’d go by himself, but your enthusiasm bowled him over. Shutting his paper, he turned to you and bowed his head in a nod. “Of course. We could leave in around an hour and have most of the day to explore. I’ll just go change out of these sweatpants.”

You watched as he practically scuttled out of the kitchen and down the hallway. It was very unlike him to move so swiftly, and you stifled a laugh before preparing for the outing yourself, dancing along to the soft music playing over the apartment speakers in your excitement for the day ahead.

It was hard to look in every direction as you traversed the wide-open atrium that served as the central hub of the museum, but you gave it a damn good go. More than once you bumped into Kento when a new curiosity stole your attention, apologising almost half-heartedly, and not because you weren’t sorry for nudging him so often, it was more that your brain was too busy processing everything it could see.

A large bronze statue of Buddha caught your eye, and you skittered across the polished floor to stand in front of the information plate, eagerly absorbing all it had to tell.

Kento couldn’t help but smile. Your enthusiasm was proving infectious, and he strolled with newfound intrigue towards you tapping photo after photo of the statue on your phone. “I didn’t take you for a museum connoisseur. Every time I’ve come here with Karin, she has whined and pleaded to leave almost as soon as we got here.”

“Oh, tell me about it. I tried to get her to go to this really cool space exhibition that our college was hosting and she flat-out refused.” You harrumphed at the memory of her expression filled with disgust. “I’m not your sister, Kento.”

You moved away to grab up one of the folded paper guides with a map of the place, and Kento was glad of the second’s reprieve after that last comment. No, you weren’t his sister. He swallowed and raised a hand to loosen the knot of his tie only to remember, at the last moment, he wasn’t in a shirt and tie. Another stark reminder of how little downtime he ever afforded himself. Perhaps, it was time for a change.

“If you enjoy space, follow me,” he said with a subtle wiggle of his eyebrows when he walked towards you for the second time. Waving towards the open entranceway to the left, you turned and glanced up into the skeletal remains of what you guessed to be a T-Rex. It made you giggle, and Nanami followed you closely, shaking his head in good humour at the renewed spring in your step.

He led you through a gallery filled with animals of all shapes and sizes, from the long-extinct to the endangered to the thriving. Creatures of the sea, land and air hung suspended from invisible supports, and even a baby blue whale graced the visitors with the enormity of its skeletal shadow. You would have stopped at every sign and interactive spot if not for wishing to keep pace with your guide. Whilst he wasn’t storming ahead, his pace wasn’t meant for the careful reading of every fact you could digest.

It was worth it when you reached an area darker than the previous section, with minerals and twinkling geodes shown behind glass cases. The remnants of a lunar capsule marked one corner with children standing around an employee giving an enthusiastic talk about the moon landings. Models of the solar system in varying sizes caught your attention, but what really stood out was the black dome in the centre.

Stopping short of the hidden entrance you spied when a woman and little boy slipped inside, you tapped Kento’s shoulder. “What’s inside there?”

“Now, why would I spoil the surprise, hm?”

Without another word, he marched inside to leave you standing there, blinking in amused confusion. This playful side was interesting, fun even, and you hoped it would last throughout the visit.

Never in a million years did you think you’d find yourself lying on your back staring up at the celestial bodies that made up the Universe with Nanami Kento by your side. He was seated on the floor along the wall when you found him, grateful for the small pillow he’d managed to secure for the both of you given how crowded it was inside. The noise of families, friends in little groups and the odd couple or two died down when the low lighting completely extinguished to bathe you in darkness. You found that you had to lie closer to Kento than you would have chosen, but he didn’t seem perturbed by your nearness, in fact, he turned his head to give you a smile that made your stomach flutter with rambunctuous butterflies.

Denying your attraction to him was growing harder once more, and you did your best to focus on the story above you rather than trying to identify the notes of his cologne that wafted into your nose. The heat of his body licked at your own, warming you thoroughly though you were far from cold. This felt… intimate, or it would, if it were a date.

Was this a date? No.

A mighty boom echoed through the sound system to symbolise the moment of the big bang, and you audibly shrieked in surprise. There were titters of laughter from every side, heat filled your face instantly, and you lifted your hands to cover your eyes in embarrassment.

“Are you alright?” Kento’s concerned voice whispered in hushed tones only loud enough so you would hear. His breath fanned your ear from the action of shuffling closer, and you had to fight the urge to shudder in appreciation.

“Fine, I’m… fine.”

He wasn’t buying it, and honestly, he didn’t feel too hot himself. If he spread out his fingers he would brush your hand, that’s how close you were. The near blackness illuminated by the twinkle of projected stars overhead intensified the already far too intimate setting, and despite how crowded it was, everyone faded from his mind as he thought of only you. Kento imagined the two of you spread out like this on a warm picnic blanket, the real heavenly bodies above you and how nice it might be to kiss you beneath their ethereal watch.

The lights came back to life without warning, although had he been paying attention to the experience, it wouldn’t have been such a surprise. Blinking and slightly dazed, Kento sat up and quickly got to his feet, dusting down his trousers and smoothing away any wrinkles. He reached out to help you stand before thinking twice, your hand slid into his with perfect ease, and for a moment, he simply stared at you in longing.

His hand was warm, the texture rougher than expected, and when he finally pulled it back, you wanted to tighten your fingers and refuse to let go. The hustle surrounding you both wasn’t enough to sway your attention nor was it enough to calm your racing heart. Your gaze caught the attention of a young couple, hand in hand and laughing about something unknowable, and you coveted what they had, and you didn’t—couldn’t. He didn’t want you like that, and no matter how much you wished this could be a date, it wasn’t.

“Come on, let’s get moving or we’ll never see everything else.”

Kento heard your words. He saw your smile and the wave of your hand to beckon him onwards, but he didn’t believe them. For that brief moment, when your hand was in his, he felt your fingers twitch almost imperceptibly. More wishful thinking on his part? He wasn’t sure, but he was determined not to spoil the day by moping in his uncertainty.

The hours melted away much like the sun rising and dipping in the sky outside. An air of fragility lingered despite both your efforts to dispel the effects of earlier. The exhibitions and various collections were intriguing, but none more so than the man trailing a few paces behind you. An enigma that you were sure you’d started to unravel, but now… you weren’t so sure anymore.

He offered tidbits of information that only a history buff would be able to, the tips of his ears blushing beet red whenever you pointed that fact out. So many times you wanted to sneak up real close when he was engrossed in reading something, the desire to run your fingertips over his ribs and find out if he was ticklish or not, but you knew that wasn’t a good idea.

The wildlife photography exhibition was far quieter than you suspected it would be, and you were grateful to be wrong. After a good few hours of trailing around the massive building, fatigue was setting in and finding a soft seat to rest your tired feet was a pleasant result. Leaning back on your elbows on the overstuffed leather rectangle that sat in the middle of the gallery, you could watch the comings and goings from every angle.

Kento stalked between the various shots that lined the walls, pausing and tilting his head in keen fascination. He was your sole focus, the unexpecting prey with a jaw cut from pure marble. Your lips quirked involuntarily each time he rocked on the balls of his feet—a habit you had not long noticed. If you weren’t much mistaken, Kento seemed to favour long shots where the subject was captured in action; a tiger swimming through a moss topped lake, hyenas circling the kill of a lioness and a vibrant green frog leaping majestically towards a tree branch.

“Do you dabble?” You asked quietly, having approached after your short rest. “In photography, I mean.”

“Hm? Oh. No, nothing like that.”

Kento shuffled awkwardly towards the next picture, a flock of wild birds taking flight from the long grass of a savannah. “How come? You sure seem interested,” you pressed further, eyebrows knitting at the discomfort you sensed in him.

“It wouldn’t be an effective use of my time. I don’t have the hours to sink into a hobby that would see me gain nothing in return,” he explained to your utter aghast.

“What about happiness? Indulgence? There doesn’t always have to be a measurable outcome for something to be fun and worthwhile.”

He scoffed, and you scowled. “You’re still young…”

“Well, I’d rather stay young than become a jaded corporate slave like someone I could mention.” You stalked away to the other side of the room, perturbed by just how little stock he seemed to put into his own mental and emotional well-being. “And I’m not that young, Kento.”

He couldn’t understand your sudden ire. What did it matter to you what he did with his free time? More like what he didn’t do, he supposed. Sure, there had been a time in his adolescence when he carried a Polaroid camera around with him, the bulky piece of equipment tucked into his backpack and brought out to capture those moments that weren’t posed for, finding a special kind of beauty in the raw exposure of life.

It had been nothing but a phase. One left behind when he entered college and started to work towards the life he wished to live. Only now, he wasn’t so sure he was living the life he dreamed of. He achieved the successes he set out to, but was he happy? That was a hard question to stomach, let alone try to answer honestly.

“Why do you look like you want to yell at me?”

Glancing sideways, you frowned up at his towering frame and felt the heat of his anger wash over you to meld with your own. “Because you make it sound like any interest outside of endlessly working or working out is redundant. Irresponsible. Stupid!” Your voice rose higher, the words punched out with a flap of your hands.

“Do you care so little for what makes you happy? It makes me… mad,” you continued with a slight pause. The familiar tight, itchy feeling invaded your throat whilst the prickle of tears stung your eyes. Goddammit! You hated that you wanted to cry when you were angry, and the last person you wanted to see those tears wouldn’t understand. He couldn’t.

“Oh, Howard, look there. Doesn’t that bring back memories?” The amused voice of a woman who appeared in her early sixties caught your attention. Quickly wiping at the stray tears at your lashline, both you and Kento turned to the couple who were staring right at you.

The man chuckled indulgently at his wife, patting her hand that was secured through his arm and whispered something that couldn’t be heard. His wife nudged him playfully, and you could only look on in complete bemusement. They walked closer, the woman offering a kindly smile as she reached out to pat Kento’s arm, then yours.

“They say that couples shouldn’t bicker, especially in public,” she said with a slight laugh. “But don’t listen to such rubbish. Howard and I used to snipe at each other regularly, and we’ve been married thirty-five years.”

“Oh, no! You misunderstand, we’re not…”

She held up a hand to silence your stammered protests, shaking her head with a chuckle. “My dear, when you’ve been around as long as we have, you start to trust what your gut tells you. I won’t say anything else except to offer this one piece of advice. Don’t go to bed angry, and don’t wait to go after what you truly want.”

“That was two, dear. Come on, let’s not bother them any longer.” With wisdom imparted, the older couple bustled away, leaving you to blink in bewilderment.

You could feel Kento by your side, his body rigid and unmoving. So badly you wanted to glance up and find out what his expression was, but honestly, you weren’t sure if it was a good idea or not. What could the couple have seen in you? Was it so obvious that you were interested? Even if that was true, surely his disinterest was just as plain to see?

“Well… that was unexpected. I’m sorry for yelling. It’s your life, after all, you should do whatever you believe is best. Can we go get a bite to eat and head home–I mean, back to your apartment?”

Kento could only nod. He couldn’t help but feel as if everything he had come to believe as true was crumbling around his ears. The ideals and principles he set for himself all those long years ago no longer seemed important. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d taken time off work, albeit enforced this time, and he had never felt so unsure of himself.

It was you. Your presence was the catalyst, and he didn’t know whether to thank or curse you. How could one person cause so much inner turmoil without trying? He watched as you wandered towards the archway that would take you back to the main atrium, the light from the skylight caught across your face and your simple smile blinded him.

Don’t wait to go after what you truly want… would he take the advice that continued to ring in his head?

#delirious writes #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami smut #nanami fluff #nanami kento smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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imfinereallyy · 1 year ago

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#38 "i was eavesdropping and i heard something i can’t scrub from my memory" sounds like it could be very funny, especially from a kid's perspective!

you read my mind, it 100% needs be a kid POV, sorry this one is a bit shorter than my usual but it was fun to write. *it actually ended up being longer than I thought cause I have a problem with not knowing when enough is enough lol* ♡

find the request game here

Lucas was going to throw up. He liked to think he had a strong stomach, he really truly did, but this was too much even for him.

“What the hell is your problem?” Max asked him as he came back to Steve’s living room.

“Yea you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Will pipes up, head leaning on his knee.

Lucas swallowed dryly, he had to phrase this carefully. “Well I was eavesdropping…”

Max snorted from her seat on the couch. “You Lucas Sinclair was eavesdropping? Didn’t think I’d ever see the day. What about the whole ‘respect people’s boundaries’ thing you rave about?”

“And I still stand by that! It’s just I didn’t want to interrupt and…” Lucas thought back to a few minutes ago. He had gone into the kitchen to grab Max an ice pack; she was having a bad hip day. When he had reached the door, he had heard Steve and Eddie talking, and it had sounded serious. Lucas felt bad about interrupting, but he also couldn’t go back to Max without the ice pack. They had been good for months now, and he didn’t want to risk it. (He knew this was ridiculous considering they weren’t really that dysfunctional, and she loved him, a reluctant secret smile confession on her end. But there was this deep part of Lucas who was terrified of disappointing her). So he was content with waiting outside the door until they were done.

Lucas really should have turned around and left.

“What if they don’t…want to be around us Stevie?” Eddie whispered.

“Baby they are just kids. They are good kids. They are our friends. They won’t be upset.” Steve murmured back.

This was the point Lucas should have turned around, but he was confused and wanted to understand.

“You aren’t even the slightest bit worried, that maybe they won’t be accepting? I don’t think any of them have been exposed to gay culture, let alone two men dating?”

Oh. Oh no. This was really private. Lucas should have really turned around but at that point, his feet were glued to the ground.

“I mean yea a little bit…they are shitheads. Especially Mike—“ Lucas had to hold back a snort, “—but they are good. It’s why we are friends with them. As much as it pains me to admit we are friends with children.”

Lucas wished he could see their faces.

“What if…what if they are more than shitheads this time?” Lucas had never heard Eddie’s voice sound so small.

“…do you want to wait a little longer?” Steve’s voice asked gently, with no anger.

“If that’s okay. I just…want to live in our bubble a little longer. Well our bubble plus Robin.” Lucas imagined Eddie biting his hair in that moment.

“Yea baby. We take this at the pace you need. And Robin already knows, which is pretty much the only person I can’t keep a secret from. And I like our little bubble too.” Lucas heard shuffling around, like fabric reaching around itself.

“Yea?”

“Yea. I think I can go a little longer without the twerps making gagging noises every time we kiss. We can wait to tell them we’re together.”

“Hmmmm should we do a practice show right now, to prepare for when we need to freak them out?” Eddie’s voice turned suddenly flirty.

“I like the way you think.” This was the last words Lucas heard before the sounds of the two of them clearly heavily making out came through the doorway. It was at the first moan that Lucas ran away.

Lucas was brought back to reality when Max snapped her fingers in his face. “Want to share with the class loser?”

Oh god, Lucas was gonna throw up at the memory.

It wasn’t the fact that they were men and that they were dating. Lucas was, in fact, really happy for them. He had never thought about it, but in a weird way, it made sense. He wanted them to be happy. And if he was really being honest with himself, he was hoping maybe this would get Max to stop staring at Steve when he doesn’t have a shirt on (a few months later, Lucas would be horribly proven wrong of this theory).

It wasn’t this kissing that made him want to vomit either. Sure, the idea of his older brother figure making out with his dungeon master wasn’t a pleasant thought, but he had witness Mike make out with El, so he was pretty immune to grossness.

No, the problem was Lucas realized with great certainty he was going to have to keep a secret.

He gagged at the thought.

Sure, he could keep a whole other dimension and government conspiracy theory a secret from his parents (and, ya know, the world), but he caved relatively quickly when it came to Max. And Max could tell whenever he was lying. But Lucas wasn’t stupid; he knew you couldn’t just tell other people that someone you know is gay. He didn't know the word for it, maybe there wasn’t one, but Lucas knew what it was like to be different. He didn’t want to make Steve and Eddie feel bad, or cause others to be mean to them. He didn’t think the rest of the party would care about the gay? Bisexual? Queer?—wait, that’s a bad word, Lucas thought—it didn’t matter what specifically, but he didn’t think they would care about the gay stuff—more like Lucas knew his friends. El and Max would have a million, invasive questions. Mike would be a dick, but not for serious reasons. More like “I have weird insecurities” reasons. It would probably be good for Will (again, Lucas isn’t stupid). And Dustin, holy shit, he would most definitely either be pissed he didn’t know sooner, or would rub it in everyone’s face that he made it happen. Both of which Lucas knew would be horrible reactions.

God, he was going to throw up. He was going to lie to his friends. His girlfriend. He couldn’t just share this secret. It would go horrible if he told, it’s not his secret! His stupid, stupid friends (not El and Max) would blow up if it came from him first. And then Eddie and Steve would be upset, he told, and they would think that the party hated them for something out of their control, even though they love them no matter what! And oh god, he’s gonna have to lie so much—

He was spiraling, he needed to calm down.

“Lucas?” Max’s face suddenly softened, like she knew he was having a hard time getting the words together. Lucas looked at her face, and took a couple of seconds to count her freckles but lost track quickly. He didn’t mind; he would to start again later. He followed the laugh lines around her eyes that weren’t there last year, and thought about trying to make her laugh.

Max said nothing as he stared, even as the guys pressed him to answer. It was strange, he was terrified of lying to Max, but he knew deep down she would understand. That she would know he was lying but wouldn’t call him out on it.

“I was eavesdropping and I heard something I can’t erase from my memory. I almost walked in on Steve giving sex advice to Eddie, so I walked away before it got gross. I forgot your ice pack; I’m sorry.” Lucas apologized; he did genuinely feel bad he didn’t succeed on his mission.

The guys started chattering behind him, asking questions and yelling out in disgust, but Max stayed quiet for a second, then said, “It’s okay, stalker. Didn’t have high hopes for you anyway. You always get distracted.”

Lucas sent her a grateful smile, and pretended to be offended. “Are you saying I don’t finish what I’ve started? You should know better, Max.”

Max threw her head back, and full body laughed. She scooped Lucas’ hand and wove her pale fingers between his. “That’s me being nice, Lucas. Don’t go around telling people that. Or I’ll have to up the ante.”

Lucas kissed the back of her hand and whispered, “Maybe I like it when you’re a little mean.”

Max blushed and looked to check if the guys were paying attention (they weren’t; they were still arguing over sex they weren’t having), and leaned over to give him a soft kiss on the cheek. Max didn’t ask any questions even though Lucas knew she knew he was lying.

Lucas didn’t let go of her hand, and quietly hoped that Eddie made Steve feel the way Max made him feel.

He deserved something special like that.

I need you guys to know that I had to keep backtracking to correct boys into guys, cause I’m so used to writing from an older persons perspective. But I wanted some steddie and lumax mixed together. And Lucas! Deserves! More! Attention!!!

thank you so much for the ask I had so much fun with this one.

#steddie #lumax #Lucas Sinclair being the amazing friend that he is #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #the party stranger things #stranger things #platonic stobin #(mentioned)#soft #robin buckley #my writing #ficlet

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cod-thoughts · 28 days ago

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How far must i go to prove that i love you?

Word count: 6k

Relationships: GhostPrice, PriceGhost

Tags: PricGhostweek2024, love confession, Blow job, hand job, Ghost has dick piercings hehe, they're so in love, truly whipped its great.

This is for Day 1 of GhostPrice week: confession + Kneel and the title is what i was listening to while editing: "Mx Sinister - I dont know how but they found me"

Ghost swallowed; his throat suddenly tight. He’d never seen Price so relaxed, so at ease, and yet he looked right, like he belonged here. Against a kitchen counter as Ghost made him tea, warm from a fresh shower and relaxed. A kind of longing Ghost couldn’t name settled heavy in his chest, an ache that made him want to close the space between them, to pull Price close and tell him he didn’t want this to be temporary. Price noticed his gaze, eyebrows raising as he let out a soft laugh. “What’s with you then? Never seen a man out of a shower?” OR Ghost is so enamoured by a domestic and relaxed Price he blurts out his feelings and has to convince Price he does want this This is my first time writing actual smut please be kind oop 0_0 Keep reading under the cut or on AO3

The mission went without a hitch, for once, no bad intel, no secret mercenaries waiting for them and most importantly. No injuries. Ghost couldn't be happier with how it turned out because this meant they had an extra three days in the safe house. Technically they weren’t on leave, but they might as well have been.

The safe house was a modest, worn place—a dusty sort of charm that only Price would’ve found this endearing, raving on about how cozy and homey it felt. It reminded him of his cabin in the country-side apparently. Even Ghost found himself oddly settled by the familiarity of it. Today was their last full day in the safe-house and they already managed to slip into a comfortable rhythm, both of them falling into a rare, quiet routine that felt almost… normal, domestic in a way.

Price was in the shower, water pattering softly against the old tiles, and the faint warmth of steam drifted out into the narrow hallway. Ghost could hear the occasional clink as Price moved about, no doubt scrubbing his face and muttering about the “bloody water pressure.” A hint of a smile tugged at Ghost’s mouth, something barely there, but the comfort of the moment made him less guarded, even if it was just him in the kitchen.

It was strange, the ease with which they’d fallen into this—how simple it felt to share the silence, to just be here. Price’s footsteps, his quiet huff of laughter, the way he leaned against the counter with that small smirk Ghost had memorised. These were details Ghost never let himself hold onto, and yet here they were, filling him with a warmth that was as terrifying as it was grounding.

God, what he wouldn’t give to have Price with him like this all the time, soft and comfortable, the lines in his face smoothing over in his relaxed state, his laughter more prominent and not marred by the world they live in.

He’d finished heating up a tin of beans, stirring it absently before putting the lid on it to keep it warm, and set the kettle on for tea, knowing Price would be done soon. The small tasks felt grounding, almost domestic—there’s that word again, strange but, maybe, it was what had been playing at the edges of his mind for a while now. This rare ease, this strange new rhythm. Ghost found himself watching the steam rising from the kettle, a bit lost in the warmth that filled the air.

He wasn’t quite sure when it happened—when the lines between Price as a superior, a mentor, had blurred into something… more. It was a disquieting thought, one he’d been trying to keep at bay, though not with much success. And here he was, cooking up beans and making tea, so utterly settled in Price’s presence that the prospect of leaving, of returning to the job, made him feel something uncomfortably close to hollow.

He never imagined this was even possible for him. To be alive and wanting something so fiercely. To want a life outside of being a soldier. It was all he ever knew but as the kettle clicked and he made them a cup each, exactly how Price liked it, it hit him like a blow: this was it. This was what he wanted, more than he’d ever wanted anything.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Price emerged, towelling his hair. He’d discarded his usual gear in favour of an old grey t-shirt, soft and worn, that clung to his still-damp skin. He looked… ordinary. Beautifully ordinary. Ordinary was the wrong word entirely for that man, Ghost realised, because there was something extraordinary in the way Price took up space, in how naturally he filled the room.

There was something about Price that Simon couldn’t look away from, something that drew him in every time. It wasn’t just the way his shirt clung to the strong lines of his shoulders or the way his damp hair curled slightly at the ends—it was him. The way Price moved with such unassuming ease, filling the space without even trying. The quiet strength in the way he stood, the subtle command he carried even when he wasn’t speaking.

And his face. God, Simon could stare at it forever. The crinkle at the corners of his eyes that deepened when he smiled, the way his beard softened his jawline but couldn’t hide the sharp angles beneath. The ruggedness of him—like he’d been carved out of something weathered but enduring—made Simon’s chest ache with something fierce. And then there was that scent, familiar and grounding: the faint trace of cigars, soap, and something woodsy, something unmistakably Price.

It wasn’t just the physical, though that certainly left Simon weak. It was the way Price’s presence seemed to settle the air, how his quiet confidence made even a dusty, cramped kitchen feel like the safest place in the world. How he could glance at Simon with those piercing blue eyes and, without saying a word, make him feel seen in a way no one else ever had.

Simon realised, as he stood there, that he didn’t just want Price. He adored him. Every detail, every quiet moment, every laugh that felt like it was meant just for Simon. He wanted to keep this, to keep him—the man who somehow made even the most ordinary moments feel like home.

Simon didn’t realise he’d been staring until Price’s movement snapped him back to the present. He blinked, catching himself, but Price had already noticed, his gaze flicking toward him with a faintly amused tilt of his brow.

Price spotted the tea, grunted approvingly, and leaned back against the counter. “Bit of a treat, this. Thought we’d be stuck with the stale packs from camp.” He nodded toward the kettle, that subtle glint of humour in his eyes, as if a decent brew was the most luxurious indulgence he could imagine.

A kind of longing Ghost couldn’t name settled heavy in his chest, an ache that made him want to close the space between them, to pull Price close and tell him he didn’t want this to be temporary.

Price noticed his gaze, eyebrows raising as he let out a soft laugh. “What’s with you then? Never seen a man out of a shower?” His tone was light, teasing, but Ghost could see the slight furrow in his brow, as if he were trying to decipher what he was seeing in Ghost’s eyes.

Ghost’s mouth opened, then closed. He could feel the words pressing up against his chest, aching to escape, but he didn’t know if he had the right to say them. What if this ruined everything? What if he’d read all of this wrong? What if Price didn’t want this with Simon?

But looking at Price, standing there, comfortably out of uniform, looking so impossibly good and real, Ghost felt something snap. He couldn’t keep holding this back—not when every moment with Price felt like a promise he wanted to keep.

“I’m in love with you.”

The silence that followed felt both endless and instant. He watched Price freeze, shock flickering over his face as if he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard. For a second, Ghost’s stomach twisted, instinct screaming at him to retreat, to act like it had been a mistake, a momentary lapse he hadn’t meant. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t take it back.

Instead, he stood there, unwavering, rooted to the spot by something stronger than fear. There was a sense of calm clarity in him, as if finally saying it—finally letting it go—was exactly what he needed to feel at peace. For the first time, he wasn’t hiding from what he felt, and it was terrifying, but also… grounding. This was his truth, as clear as any mission he’d ever undertaken. It was too much a part of him to deny, and he knew now, with a certainty he couldn’t ignore, that he wouldn’t take it back even if he could.

Price’s mouth opened, closed, the faintest line of vulnerability shadowing his face. “Simon… no. You don’t—” He stopped, eyes flicking away. “Why… why would you even say that?”

A part of Ghost had expected this. He’d seen how Price held people at arm’s length, always careful, always cautious with his own heart. But Ghost had spent enough time by his side to know that Price’s doubt was more than scepticism—it was insecurity. And knowing that broke something in Ghost, making him want to close the space between them, to make Price see himself the way he did.

Without thinking, he took a step closer, each movement slow, deliberate. He needed Price to understand. There was no question, no hesitation in his heart, and he wouldn’t let his own fear stand in the way of this. “Because it’s true, John,” he said softly, his voice filled with an intensity that surprised even him. “Because I mean it.”

Price shook his head, trying to look away, a faint, pained laugh escaping him. Ghost could see it, see the struggle on his face, the disbelief that anyone could love him like this, let alone him.

Ghost’s chest ached seeing Price struggle, watching the disbelief play across his face, the doubt that someone could love him, truly love him. He reached up, taking his mask off, wanting Price to see his whole expression. He cupped Price’s face in both hands, guiding him to look back, to look him in the eye.

“John,” he said, his voice low, steady, the words carrying a weight he’d never let himself show. “You’re not just my Captain. You’re the one person who’s… who makes sense to me. Every time I think about us, about this—it feels right.” He paused, his thumb brushing over Price’s cheek, the warmth of the touch grounding them both. “I’ve thought about it more times than I can count. Tried to fight it. But I can’t, not anymore.”

Price’s eyes searched his face, looking for any flicker of doubt, anything to convince himself that this was just a passing feeling. But Ghost didn’t let him turn away; he needed Price to understand how long he’d kept this inside; how much he wanted this to be real.

Every inch of him was screaming to make Price see that this wasn’t some twisted sense of duty or loyalty or a skewed understanding of the bond of brothers-in-arms. It was something that went beyond all of that, something he’d felt in every quiet moment, every time he found himself leaning closer, craving Price’s presence even when words went unspoken. And now, with Price standing here, with that soft shirt and his damp hair, looking so human and so his, Ghost knew he’d never be able to go back to pretending this was just camaraderie.

Price’s lips parted, a faint tremor in his voice as he asked, almost pleadingly, “Why me, Simon? Why would you…”

Ghost let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing over Price’s cheek. “Because I want this with you, all of it,” He gestured around the cabin frantically, trying to convey what he means. “I want this to be our normal.”

“Why… why now?”

Ghost swallowed, the rawness of Price’s voice piercing through him, and in that moment, any doubt he’d had about telling him vanished. “Because I want this. With you. I want the quiet moments, the domestic nights on a couch. I want to wake up to you next to me-” He paused suddenly, his thumb tracing along Price’s cheek. “I didn’t know how much until I got a taste of a life with you outside of the 141 these past few days. I thought I could live without you knowing but I can’t. I want you, John.” He took a breath, his own voice rough but steady. “And if you don’t feel the same, I understand. But I needed you to know.”

The look in Price’s eyes was one Ghost had rarely seen before—unguarded, vulnerable, and full of a quiet yearning that had been hidden for far too long. And at that moment, he knew he’d made the right choice, that he’d do it all over again if it meant being here, standing close, telling Price everything he’d kept buried.

When Price’s hands moved up to Ghost’s face, mirroring his touch, Ghost could feel it—the release of years of restraint, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted. “You… you really mean that?”

Ghost nodded, the relief and quiet happiness flooding through him. “More than anything.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Price’s hands tightened on his face, grounding them both. “Alright,” he whispered, voice thick. “Alright… Simon.”

Ghost leaned in, their foreheads touching, each of them grounding the other. In the quiet, Ghost could feel it—all the years of restraint, the walls they’d kept up, finally crumbling as they found each other, both feeling, for the first time, what it meant to be truly together.

They stayed close, heads tilted together, letting the newness of it settle, feeling the gentle thud of their heartbeats in tandem. Then, almost as if on impulse, Ghost—Simon, now—leaned in, pressing a light kiss to Price’s forehead, then his cheek, and then another, barely brushing the bridge of his nose. Each kiss was soft, almost giddy, like he couldn’t contain the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Price let out a soft laugh, an amused huff as he tried to dodge Simon’s unrelenting affections, but he didn’t quite succeed, and it only seemed to encourage Simon further.

“Bloody hell, Simon, give a man a moment to breathe,” Price grumbled, though his voice was edged with laughter, his own smile finally breaking free as he watched Simon beam with a kind of unabashed joy he’d never seen from him before.

Simon chuckled, his lips still grazing Price’s face as he planted another playful kiss just above his eyebrow, and then another on his jawline, lingering a moment longer as his grin grew even wider. He was thoroughly enjoying the way Price looked slightly flustered, a bit pink around the edges.

“You’re a menace, you know that?” Price muttered, shaking his head even as his hands settled comfortably on Simon’s waist, holding him close.

“Oh, I’m a menace?” Simon quirked an eyebrow, his tone teasing as he brushed his lips against Price’s nose, a sly smile lighting up his face. “This coming from the bloke who said he doesn’t need shit like this. Look at you now. Practically melting,” he teased, his laughter warm, delighted, bubbling up from a place so deep it surprised even him.

Price chuckled, shaking his head. “S’pose I am, at that,” he admitted, his voice softening, a hand coming up to cup the back of Simon’s neck. He looked at him, taking in the joy in Simon’s eyes, the warmth in his expression, and for the first time, he allowed himself to relax fully, to let the happiness settle.

Then, with a steadying breath and a smile that was soft and sure, Price looked into Simon’s eyes, holding him close. “I love you too, Simon,” he murmured, voice quiet but unmistakably certain.

Simon’s face lit up with an almost boyish grin, and he pressed another series of kisses to Price’s face, each one full of relief, of warmth, of a happiness he could barely contain. He laughed, the sound bright, full of life, as he finally allowed himself to believe in this moment, in the closeness he’d longed for.

“You’re a bloody nightmare,” Price teased, laughing softly as Simon practically smothered him with affection.

“Think you’ll survive it?” Simon whispered, his tone playful but the sincerity in his eyes clear.

“Aye,” Price replied, his own smile unguarded, hands still resting firmly on Simon. “I reckon I will.”

They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, laughter mingling with quiet promises.

As their laughter faded, Simon’s hand lingered on Price’s cheek, the warmth of his touch grounding them both. They stood there, close and quiet, the moment stretching between them, soft and unhurried. Simon’s gaze moved over Price’s face, taking in the lines he’d memorised a hundred times over in the field, but here, now, he allowed himself the luxury of just looking, of feeling.

Without a word, Simon leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Price’s mouth this time, his hand slipping up to cradle the back of his neck. Price returned it just as slowly, the firmness in his grip telling Simon all he needed to know. There was an intensity in the way their mouths moved together—deliberate, deep, each kiss pulling them closer, as if the space between them was something they couldn’t bear.

Simon’s thumb brushed along Price’s jaw, and his other hand found Price’s waist, holding him steady as they leaned into each other. Price’s hand slipped up, fingers threading through the short hair at the back of Simon’s head, grounding them both, drawing him closer.

A low hum of contentment escaped Simon, their breaths mingling as he let himself get lost in the feeling of it—of them—no longer holding back. There was no rush, just the slow burn of realisation and a shared understanding, the unspoken promise that they were finally here, together.

When Simon finally pulled back, he stayed just a breath apart, his gaze fixed intently on Price, the weight of his affection clear in his eyes. His thumb brushed slowly along Price’s jaw, his touch confident, knowing, as he leaned in again, lips ghosting over Price’s in a way that was both teasing and familiar.

There was an unmistakable warmth in his gaze, a playful glint that Price recognised, but he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it in this situation. He felt his pulse quicken, as if somehow Simon had shifted the entire mood with just that one look.

“Y’know,” Simon murmured, voice low and steady, each word lingering in the space between them, “I could show you… just how much I mean it.”

Price’s eyebrows lifted, his mouth parting slightly as he tried to process the words, that quiet intensity in Simon’s voice leaving little room for doubt. Simon’s hands slipped down to rest at Price’s hips, steady and sure, anchoring him, but there was a spark of mischief in his expression, a challenge that was somehow both serious and playful.

Price opened his mouth to respond, to say something, but the words didn’t come, leaving him standing there, a bit off-kilter, entirely captivated by Simon’s quiet, unwavering confidence. He could barely believe that this was happening, that this was real, but the heat in Simon’s gaze left no room for uncertainty.

Simon chuckled and brought his lips firmly back onto Price’s, making him release a small gasp at how forceful Simon was being. God, that noise. It went straight to Simon’s cock, fuelling his arousal. He had to hear more, had to hear Price fall apart.

He shifted his hand on Price’s hip, moving under the thin shirt Price had on. Simon grabbed at the soft layer of fat around Price’s abdomen, groaning into the kiss. Fuck, he wanted to bite at the softness.

Using his hold on Price, he pushed Price against the counter, connecting their whole bodies together in a sinful grind. Their chests brushed against each other, and Simon could feel their hard nipples poking through their shirts, could feel Price’s arousal against the thigh he’d shoved between his legs, effectively pinning Price down.

He moved a hand into Price’s slightly damp hair and tugged on it, drawing another soft noise out of the man underneath him. It only added fuel to the fire being stoked within Simon. He shifted his hand to cup the back of Price’s neck, pushing his thumb into the junction of Price’s jaw, making Price gasp in response.

Simon licked deeper into Price’s mouth, claiming him. Pressing him harder against the counter, grinding into him and running his tongue over Price’s. The man keened, thrown slightly off balance, using his hold on Simon’s waist to hold himself upright.

Simon scraped his teeth against Price’s bottom lip, gasping before pulling away abruptly. He felt Price chase after his lips, but Simon placed his hand on his captain’s chest to slow him down. He brought their foreheads together, just breathing in each other’s air.

“Fuck, Simon. Been wanting this for so long, didn’t think it was allowed,” Price choked out, chuckling as if trying to hide his sincerity.

Simon moved his attention to Price’s jaw, laying kisses across his beard, letting the surprisingly soft hair tickle his lips. Moving to Price’s neck, he had to restrain himself from outright biting at the smooth skin in front of him. Instead, he nipped it teasingly, running the tip of his tongue over the tendon, feeling Price shiver against him.

Resigning himself to not actually marking Price, not yet at least, he started tugging at his shirt, trying to get it off. Simon knew he should separate from Price even a little bit to get the shirt off, but it was a monumental task when Price smelled so good.

He finally relented when he felt Price shaking slightly with laughter against him. Simon did not pout as he was forced to move away, and if he did, Price couldn’t see it, his vision shrouded by the shirt for a few seconds.

They’d seen each other in various stages of undress; this shouldn’t be as world-shattering as it was, but God was Simon savouring every single second he got to ogle shamelessly at a shirtless Captain John Price.

His hands roamed over Price’s chest, feeling the hair that was just as soft as he thought it would be, squeezing his chest, feeling Price jolt at the sensation.

“Didn’t think you’d be so sensitive when I pictured this.” Simon smirked as he pinched Price’s hard nipples with purpose this time.

“Ah!” Price hissed, pulling his chest away from Simon’s harsh treatment. “Didn’t know I was either, to be honest.”

“Are you really telling me no one’s paid attention to these before?” Simon breathed out against Price’s lips. “Because I can’t help myself, love. Not when I get a reaction like that.” He added with a nip to Price’s lips and another tug of his nipples.

“Fuck, Simon. That feels good,” Price muttered. “Never thought you’d touch me like this, never let myself picture it. Ah!”

“Well, that’s a shame. I’ve thought about this for years, Captain. Thought about you under me, on top of me, thought about you inside me, about tasting you.” Simon said as he pressed fervent kisses and small bites over Price’s chest before finally actually biting him and sucking right above his left nipple, fulfilling that desire to mark him.

“Ah, shit! You menace, should’ve known you’d be a biter. Can’t say I’m complaining, though.” Price threaded his fingers in Simon’s curls, pulling him away from his chest and bringing their mouths together again, like he couldn’t resist it, before pulling back, murmuring, “Please tell me this isn’t a one-time thing. Please, Simon, you have to—I can’t do this once and forget about it.”

Simon’s gaze softened, his hand coming up to brush along Price’s cheek. “This isn’t a one-time thing, Price,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. “I’m here because I want to and because I love you. One day, you’ll truly believe me.” He held Price’s gaze, letting the words settle, feeling the faint tension ease from Price’s grip.

Price swallowed, still searching Simon’s face, the lingering doubt flickering in his eyes. But Simon only smiled, slow and sure.

He leaned in close, his lips ghosting over Price’s in a barely-there kiss. “Let me show you, yeah?” he whispered, his voice warm and earnest. “Prove to you how much I want this. How much I need this.”

Simon slowly lowered himself to his knees, trailing his hands down Price’s chest to his thighs. Settling into a comfortable stance, Simon just sat there, on his knees in front of his Captain.

Price was speechless; he didn’t think Simon had it in him to be so bold, but he couldn’t complain—not when those doe eyes were looking up at him like he held all the answers to everything Simon could ever want.

Finally on his knees, Simon pressed his face into the bulge of Price’s jeans, savouring the feel of him. He had to get his mouth on him properly, and soon.

Simon pressed his mouth to the bulge in front of him. “Fuck, John,” he muttered to himself. “Can I? Please?” he asked, looking up at Price again.

How was Price supposed to say no to that?

“Yes, fuck, yes, Simon, whatever you want, darling.”

Simon began unbuckling Price’s belt, then his jeans, he started pressing open-mouthed kisses through Price’s underwear, he wanted to tease Price; to really rile him up but his own desperation won over and he tugged them down and pulled out Price’s cock.

Simon resisted the urge to get his mouth around it instantly, wanting to get a proper look at the picture Price made. God, but he looked good

Leaning against the counter, face and chest flushed, Simon’s bite from earlier was darker too. Simons eyes traced the flush all the way to Price’s trim waist before going further. His belt and jeans were hanging open, held up by strong, thick thighs that Simon couldn’t wait to get in between of. His underwear was pushed down revealing, in Simon’s opinion, the prettiest cock he’s ever seen. He never thought he’d ever describe a cock as pretty, but John Price never ceases to surprise him.

The head was flushed and slightly wet from pre-cum and Simon’s spit, the shaft thick with prominent veins running along it with a neat bush at the base. His balls resting against the waistband of his underwear and Simon had to stop himself from actively drooling.

Pulling himself out of his reverie and silently promising to himself that he’d take his time and worship Price properly another time, he shuffles closer so he’s really at eye-level with Price’s cock.

Slowly, his tongue poked out and dragged up the underside of Price’s cock, swiping across the head with extra care. Simon wanted to make sure he tasted every centimetre. Price threw his head back and clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the, frankly, whorish sound that feeling and visual managed to drag out of him.

Simon sat back on his heels. The position caused his trousers to stretch across his aching arousal, showing Price just how much this was affecting him.

“I want to hear you, don’t hide from me, love. There’s no one here, it’s just us.” Simon pleaded.

Price relented and removed his hand from his mouth and instead he brought it down to rub his thumb along Simon’s bottom lip, almost reverent in his touch. Simon gave his thumb a teasing nip before pulling away and repositioning himself. Too desperate to tease Price further.

He chose to wrap a hand around Price this time and squeezed gently, just feeling his arousal in his hand. He hummed at the responding groan he got before stroking up as much as he could and back down. The dry pull only heightened Price’s sensitivity, and he bucked into the unforgiving drag.

Simon brought his face down towards Price’s cock but bypassed it and instead started licking at the base before moving his tongue further down and licking around Price’s sack.

When Price looked down Simon’s eyes were glassy and looking up at him with so much adoration his cock pulsed against Simon’s cheek at the sight below him.

Simon couldn’t help himself; he gasped at the feeling of it against his face, twitching and beading with pre-cum from some light teasing.

Finally, he pulled himself together and he guided his face to the tip of Price’s cock and brought it into his mouth. Humming at the taste of his Captain on his tongue.

Price above him moaned loudly and was rewarded instantly for his efforts. Simon’s pupils widened and he started bobbing his head slowly bringing more of Price’s cock into his mouth. He made it nearly halfway to the base before softly gagging and pulling away a bit to go back to laving his tongue around the head.

Simon hadn’t done this nearly as much as he wanted to and he regrets not being able to take Price all the way down his throat the way he wants to, to savour the stretch, knowing all his senses would be surrounded by Price. Maybe he could convince Price to let him practice? Judging from the noises above him, he doesn’t think there will be much protest.

Pulling off he let a string of saliva connect his lips to the head of Price’s cock for a few seconds before it broke off, not missing how Price twitched at the sight. He brought his lips back to the base of Price’s cock, licking around it and pressing kisses to it. Simon couldn’t help how the musky smell that lingered even after Price had showered affected him. He’d always loved how Price smelt, cigars, sweat and aftershave, but here? It was a completely different experience.

“Simon, you feel so good, love. Not gonna last long with you down there.” Price warned.

Simon hummed before wrapping his lips back around the head of Price’s cock, eliciting a choked-out moan from the man above him. He tongued at his slit, wanting to get more of Price’s taste in his mouth.

He spent a few minutes just using his mouth to pleasure Price before he brought his hand to the base to jerk off the rest of what he regrettably couldn't get in his mouth. His other hand was rubbing and squeezing anywhere he could reach from this position. He slowly trailed his hand up towards Price’s chest, pinching at his nipples and squeezing his chest, thanking his towering frame for being able to reach.

He felt Price twitch in his mouth every time he scratched, pulled, pinched or squeezed his body.

He’s so lost in the sensations that when Price gasps and says, “Simon,” all ragged and breathy he realises that Price is about to come in his mouth and is trying to warn him off.

That just won’t do. He just moans and pushes as far down as he can without gagging and sucks harder, suddenly desperate to have his mouth full of what Price really tastes like.

“Simon,” Price gasps again from above him. “I can’t—fuck! Shit! Stop, love, I’m gonna—”

Then Simon feels Price’s hips twitch, can feel him pulsing in his mouth before its filled with the salty-bitter taste of Price’s orgasm. He moans and swallows as much as he can, but some still escapes around the sides of his lips. He keeps sucking and bobbing his head until Price is pulling him away by his curls, panting above him.

Price pushes off the counter and drops to the floor in front of Simon startling him slightly before using the grip he has in Simon’s hair to tug him forward and kiss him. Simon’s lungs burn as Price steals his breath away, groaning as he tastes himself on Simon, licking the stray drops from his mouth.

He pulls back resting his forehead against Simon’s. “So, fucking good,” he pants out. “Gonna take care of you now, love, gonna make you feel good too. That what you want?”

Simon nods his head furiously, knocking their foreheads together. He moves to bring Price into a deep kiss again, his hands running over every inch of his body.

Not having touched himself at all yet he felt Price reach down towards his trousers, unbuckle them and snake his hand into his underwear. He didn’t think to warn Price, but he felt him gasp against his lips, pulling away, a look of shock across his face.

“Are you fucking pierced?”

Simon couldn't help but let out a laugh at that, “Yeah, I got them a couple years after Roba, wanted my body to feel like my own again,” Simon paused to gauge Price’s reaction who was looking at him in disbelief. “They a problem? I can take them out?” he added timidly.

“You’re kidding right? Fuck, as if you could get any more perfect. Can I touch them? Do they feel good?” Simon blushed at Price’s words.

“Yeah, feels really good.”

“Hmmm can’t wait to find out how good they’re gonna feel inside me.” He whispered into Simon’s ear making him gasp and moan at the thought of Price on his back, legs around his waist, or straddling him, or bent over. Fuck, anyway he could have him, really.

Price tightened his hand back around Simon’s cock, stroking upwards before pulling his hand away, spitting on it and bringing it back around Simon, twisting his hand when he reaches the tip.

Price moves to pay attention to the five piercings across the underside of Simon’s cock. Twisting the barbell that was threaded through each one, from his frenulum to the Jacobs ladder leading all the way down. Price kept going from stroking his entire length to paying special attention to the piercings and oh, fuck, that feels really fucking good.

“Faster, please!” Simon cries out, he didn’t realise how close he already was just from sucking Price off.

Price pulls Simons cock out of his pants and spits on it directly making the man under him keen.

“God look at you. Need to feel you inside me, Simon.” He pants into Simon’s mouth.

They’re not quiet kissing anymore, just breathing into each other’s mouths, making each other dizzy from the lack of oxygen. Price pulls back to lick and nip at Simons neck, knowing that his balaclava will cover up any marks he puts there, he doesn’t have to hesitate. Biting and sucking wherever he pleases, relishing in each broken sound it draws out of the man.

Simon’s hips stuttered and he fucks his cock into Prices fist. Moaning unabashedly at how good it feels. He’s never this vocal but Price’s fist and his presence is enough to make him feel like he’s on cloud nine, he always felt like he could let go around the man with no negative consequences.

Simon kept fucking his cock into the tight and slick fist around him, running his hands all over Price’s body, feeling the hair on his chest, the solid weight of his muscle beneath. He couldn’t believe he was able to touch him so freely. The thought made him even more frantic.

“Price, fuck! John, please, please, don’t stop. I’m so close John, please. God!” He gasped out.

“You gonna make a mess all over me, Simon? Yeah? Go on, love. Let go. Let me feel you.”

Simon, like the loyal soldier he is, couldn’t deny his captain anything and with a thrust of his hips and a twist from Price’s wrist he’s gone.

Crying out John’s name, curses and “Please, don’t stop! Feels so good!” He rides the wave of his pleasure for what feels like hours before he shivers and slumps forward onto Price’s shoulder. Panting and sweating like he ran a marathon before he looked down and groaned at the sight.

Price’s fist was covered, still pumping him gently making Simon jolt with overstimulation. He grabs Price’s wrist to stop him, gently coaxing him off. Price smirked at him and brought his hand up to lick at his fingers, holding Simons shocked expression as he did so.

Price barely got a taste before he was being shoved backwards and kissed within an inch of his life. Simon pulled back and loomed over him, his dark gaze hungry despite just finishing.

“Wanna take this to an actual bed?” he murmured into Price’s neck.

“Oh? I thought you’d get it out of your system, and you’d be done.” Price smirked knowing now how much Simon meant those words he said to him earlier.

“We’re just getting started.” Price shivered at that, eagerly anticipating what comes next.

“Well then, lead the way.”

#cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john price #q writes #Captain john price #captain price #ghostprice #priceghost #priceghostwek2024 #ghostpriceweek2024 #nerves waaaa

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vodika-vibes · 9 months ago

Text

Tomorrow Will Be Better

Summary: When his cyare has a bad day, Fives does everything in his power to make her evening better.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x F!Reader

Word Count: 760

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wrote this in about 30 minutes, so I'm sorry if it's really bad. But I needed to write, so ta-dah.

Fives knows his cyare. He knows her moods and her quirks and her habits. She has a routine, and she follows it without thinking about it.

Honestly, his presence throws off her routine more than anything else in the galaxy. Not that he minds. He takes pride in being the one thing that can encourage his cyare to divert from her normal schedule.

But he also knows that he has to give her fair warning in advance.

So, when he sent an excited series of comms to his cyare, telling her about a new restaurant that his brothers told him about and how they were raving about it, and how he was definitely bringing her there tonight, he expected an enthusiastic reply.

Instead, he gets a half-hearted response. Half-hearted even by texting standards.

And he’s immediately concerned.

Fives toys with the idea of texting her again, of asking her what’s wrong and what he can do to help, but he has a feeling that his prodding isn’t going to help at all.

So, instead, he decides to scrap all of his plans.

Honestly, the restaurant can wait, his cyare can’t.

So instead of relaxing, like he normally does when he’s home for the first time in ages, instead he darts around the apartment. He can’t make it spotless, and he’s sure that his cyare wouldn’t want him to make the house spotless, but he does give the kitchen and bathroom a quick scrub, and he very quickly starts the laundry and vacuums the living room, before he sets about preparing everything she might need for a relaxing evening.

Her favorite pajamas are laid out on the bed. Her favorite dinner from her favorite restaurant is quickly ordered and paid for. He lights her favorite candles, the soft scented ones that don’t trigger her migraines.

Fives considers drawing her a bath, but decides to wait to see what her mood is like before he does that.

He would hate to make her feel pressured, after all.

And when the door opens, Fives is quick to greet her in the hallway, with a broad smile and a gentle kiss to her forehead.

She looks tired, his poor cyare. Dark circles under her eyes, and her hair pulled in a messy tail rather than the neater tail she usually wore to work. There’s an air of, almost, defeat around her.

“Oh, cyare,” Fives brushes the back of his fingers against her cheek, “You had a bad day.” It’s not a question.

She laughs, and his heart clenches when it comes out as more of a sob, “It’s been a hard week.” She admits, “And…oh, I said we could go to-...just let me change and we can head out.”

Fives lightly cups her face and kisses her cheek and then the other cheek, before ghosting his lips against hers, “Food has already been taken care of. I ordered your favorite.”

“You…you did? But you wanted to go to this new place-”

“The restaurant will still be there the next time you feel like going out. It’s not going to vanish into smoke,” His voice is light and teasing, “But I’m worried that you might vanish into smoke if I don’t help you get some rest.”

She sighs, soft and so very heavy, and then leans against his chest, “What did I do to deserve someone as amazing as you?”

“Hm…well, you tripped over my brother, and I caught you. So I suppose you could say that you literally fell for me.” Fives replies with a grin.

“...that’s awful.”

“You love me for my bad jokes.” Fives reminds her with a smothered laugh, “Come on, angelfish.” He kisses the top of her head, “I put your pajamas out and I lit your favorite candles.”

“You’re wonderful,” She says through a sigh.

“I am pretty amazing.” Fives agrees, “Now, come on. Let’s get you settled, and you can tell me all about your rotten week while I cuddle you. And then we can watch some trash tv together while you fall asleep.”

“I love you, Fives,” The words seem to slip from her lips without her permission, and Fives can’t help but grin. He already knew, of course, she’s told him that before, but it’s still new enough that it sends thrills through his entire body.

“I love you too, cyare.” He presses one more light kiss to her lips, and then pulls away to guide her to the bedroom.

He’ll take care of her until she’s ready to take care of herself…and even after.

#star wars #tcw #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic

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helpmeimblorboing · 4 months ago

Text

The world passes by, and it’s cold. The gravestone is warm. In the depths of Achilles’ fevered mind, he thinks it still smells like Patroclus, the warmth of his skin, the cypress smell of his clothes

He kneels in the frozen dirt, and twigs dig into his skin like the claws of the Furies his mother used to tell him about, screaming, raving spirits of vengeance, risen from the other world to punish him - how dare you let him die !! How dare you let him hurt !!

He thinks he’s been kneeling here for years, but that can’t be right. The Sunday chill is still in the air, and the wind carries the smell of his corpse, limp and dead

The stone is simple, just a slab of rock, words carved into its face - PATROCLUS MENOITIADES 1995-2024

He thinks there should be an “Achilles” scrawled beside it. He thinks he might be dead, too

He remembers how he looked, in those final days, eyes sunken, face shriveled. Skinny as a twig. So unlike the Patroclus he loved that he was half-convinced it was a prank

They said it was pneumonia. Achilles thinks it was Fate herself, playing a cruel joke on him

The weather was calm, almost irritatingly so. Briseis came by to leave out some coffee and donuts for him, lest he ended up starving himself to death, but that was hours ago. And Achilles’ stomach felt like a black hole. He hungered for only one thing, and that was now forever beyond his reach

By now, the cup contained only black-brown sludge, and critters had devoured whatever remained of the donuts. As he watched, one of them nibbled on a crumb

He derived some vicious satisfaction in squishing it, leaving behind a smear of black blood on the rim of the plate. If he had to suffer, so would everyone around him

Maybe, if he sits out here long enough, he’ll catch pneumonia, too. Maybe then he’ll finally be able to follow Patroclus over to the other world. Maybe then he would finally get to be happy

A hoarse voice cleared its throat right behind him. The man was wearing doctor’s scrubs, having just gotten off work. Achilles flinched. It seemed unfazed, “I’m sorry for your loss”

Achilles didn’t respond

Hector continued, “We did everything we could, but it was too late for him. All we could do was-“

“Shut up”, his voice was sharper then he remembered, hoarse and rusty from screaming, like shattered glass, “Shut up before I gouge out your eyes”

“I understand you’re upset”, Hector’s voice was placating. Achilles wanted to kill him, “but it’s not OUR fault”

“I thought I told you something”, his voice was dead, lifeless as his love, right under him, like all the nights they had spent together, “Let me repeat it - shut up”

“Right…”, Hector paused, before clearing his throat, “Briseis wants to know if you’re okay”

Achilles was silent. After a long moment, the tell-tale sounds of a man shuffling away reached him. He didn’t move

After a long moment, he rose to his feet. At the gates of the cemetery, Automedon, clearly worried, perked up slightly at the sight

“Boss”, he called, “The car’s waiting”

“Is…”, Achilles cleared his throat, “Is Mom…”

“She’s at the house”, he swallowed. Hard, “She wants to see you”

“I…”, the breath he drew in was ragged and torn, as he turned back towards the grave, feeling oddly like he was chopping off a limb by leaving this place, “I…”

His mother had never liked Patroclus. But these last few weeks… she had changed. For some reason, the thought of her son losing his heart seemed to get her to finally show the young - so young, too young - man some compassion.

Who knows ? Maybe she had a change of heart.

“Boss ?”, Automedon sounded a bit nervous. He idly scratched the back of his head, “Lady Thetis said she wants you inside by sundown, lest you…”, he swallowed, “…end up like him”

Achilles resisted the urge to bark out a pained laugh. Isn’t that what she always told him would. come of associating with the likes of his beloved ? A bastard, a disgrace, someone disowned by his own family ?

How odd that, now that he was dead, those words were repeated, and with such a different meaning

“Boss ?”

“Yeah”, Achilles turned towards his friend, and was a bit disappointed to not be faced with a funeral hearse, “M’coming”

It seemed improper, for a corpse to be carried around in his mother’s gleaming black Chevrolet Cameron, but he supposed after it had carried his mother around for years, it was used to carting around wounded souls

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altocat · 2 months ago

Note

Ain't no party like a Shinra party

WOO! PARTY ON THE SOLDIER FLOOR LET'S GOOOOOOOO

Angeal: Is trying to clean up while the entire room explodes around him. He furiously scrubbing dishes, sweeping up confetti, and fretting over expensive office items being tossed around. Poor guy. He's an absolute wreck right now. And would probably continue to be if not for Genesis scooting over to pass him some much-needed alcohol. Angeal then proceeds to take a little snooze on the carpet, completely worn out.

Genesis: Speaking of Gen, he's busy getting shitfaced. The guy is just so happy to be here, so happy to be alive. Cranking up the music, just blasting that shit to the point where it can be heard seven blocks away. He's gone completely out of his mind, yelling and jumping around like it's a rave. All Loveless recitals are now a string of slurred words that have little to no actual meaning. He spins around with Sephiroth, coaxing the other out of his shell until they're both flushed and laughing as they fall onto the couch together.

Sephiroth: At first, he didn't really like the loud music and the pressing cluster of people. He kept trying to scoot away when no one was looking. But Genesis won't have it, yanking him over to dance, guiding him step by step into the heartbeat of the night, letting him experience all the joys that living has to offer. Sephiroth decides that while this still really isn't his thing at all, he's glad to be here with his friends. And gladder still that he met them.

Zack: Was actually REALLY hyped about this party and was planning to get into all sorts of mischief. Unfortunately...he ALSO managed to lock himself in the bathroom and has been yowling and scratching at the door for nearly four hours now. No one can hear him since the music is so loud. Zack misses the entire night and spends it sprawled on the cold tile, staring up at the ceiling while the rest of the world parties on without him. Life isn't fair at all.

Cloud: Meekly showed up bringing a casserole he made following his mom's special recipe. He worked really hard on it. Too bad it's snatched up and utterly decimated within seconds of him placing it on the table. Cloud mostly spends the night being jostled around from corner to corner like a pinball because the crowd is too dense and too crazy. He wanted to go bed nearly six hours ago. And yet here he is still on his feet at three AM, having a crisis because the party DOESN'T STOP.

#ff7 #asks #final fantasy 7 #ffvii #sephcanons #crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #sephiroth #angeal hewley #cloud strife #zack fair #final fantasy vii

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zaynes-nieve · 3 months ago

Text

Spoilers for all of Thorns Under the Moon

Back into Aether core lore. Let's go!!!

We got some new hunter models

Bruhhhh, even Carter's model looks slimey 😭

Zayne did not want me to take those flowers lmfao. Not that I would. Who tries to poach people's patients wtf

Yeahh we already know Carter is batshit insane.

This entire scenario is a little too much like Finding Tobias 😭

Greyson showing us the videos of the hospital and this dimensional Wanderer is making so obvious we about to isekaied into DawnBreaker world bruh.

I'm tried of people playing god with these protocores especially cause Astra is an asshole 😭

Yooo Zayne and Greyson in scrubs???? My man is great with his hands lmfaoo. No but fr really good surgeon ten out of ten, no one is better than my boy Zayne.

God damn these metafluxes wtffff. Where tf is this Wanderer.

Not the Wanderer taking out a sandwich. What do you mean he woke up???? Ain't no way he is awake already. Wtf is Xander Sciences doing???

This man is raving mad. Wtf is the dawn breaker world. Is it an alternative universe? A spliting timeline? In the future? In the past? Now yall telling me it's a protocore dream?

Oh shit we finally fighting this Wanderer? Or we getting....yup we got isekaied now the question is...

Dude is that Zayne or Zayne.

Cause he is wearing the Dawnbreaker fit. I think he is straight up lying to my face rn. He is trying to pretend that he is our Zayne. Or is it our Zayne stuck in Dawn Breaker. Or are we not even in Dawn Breaker world just Zaynes dream.

Bruh this dreamception is too big brain for me at 8 am in the morning.

This is definitely Dawn Breakers house. It's got those weird energy drinks. But Our Zayne could have easily seen this just like Dawn Breaker could see our Zaynes life. Idk anymore.

Lying about the chocolate is crazy work. Not carrot flavored 🥕🍫

I'm like 85% certain this is Dawn Breaker. He is just slightly enough different to be not our Zayne at least fully. But the dark ice and light ice is confusing me again. Are they merged in this one? Cause William is our Zayne, but George and his mother is Dawn Breaker

Also this resonance isn't it. To me it doesn't look like it's working very well. Especially when It looks like we got knocked out cause of it. Also he is taking the ice from us. So is it like an Astra thing or when we do that resonance to take the ice from Zayne we end up taking it for ourselves?

Also, I haven't fought with a non-exclusive companion in so long. Seeing the Dawnbreaker fighting set is crazy again XD. Just make him an exclusive set, too, with the myth story I beg 🙏🏾

It's implied that we know that that wasn't our Zayne. So I guess that was Dawn Breaker. It isn't the first time that they've made reference to the fact that we can recognize Dawn Breaker as separate from our Dr.Zayne either. But Zayne was also sucked into the protofield, too.

Zayne needs his rest. I hope he won't have anymore nightmares 😔

Ain't no way that Wanderer was summoned by that fucking tool, are you kidding me??? Bruh when I get my hands on Carter, Xander Scicnes and fuckign Ever. I swear I'm pulling up with a demolition squad.

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reblogs-and-writings · 8 months ago

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Inspired by @chaifootsteps

Everyone's sending in their Hazbin character rewrites, and that looked fun so I want to toss my own hat into the ring. Sorry for the long post. What really bothers me most about Hazin Hotel is that it claims to be a show about redemption, but it seems to be a show about lack of consequence. The reasons why the characters are in hell are never really explained. There are things you can infer about certain people: Alastor's murder, Husk's gambling, Angel's drug use, etc. However, the show never explains why those behaviors are wrong and how they can improve. More often than not, those behaviors are used as jokes. It's funny to have a cannibal town. Angel Dust's name is a pun on the drug that killed him. It's just tonally very wierd to purport that anyone can be redeemed, ANYONE, even people in HELL, can be redeemed and then not continue that very messy and difficult ethical conversation.

Nifty is boy-crazy. Taken to its extreme, what can that mean? What causes attraction so vile it sends you to hell? Was she was one of those "Boy Moms" who excuses his son's horrid actions at the expense of women's safety? Did she cover up a rape her child committed, because Mother's special little boy couldn't possible do something so vile! Or maybe she didn't love her children enough. Maybe her obsession with "bad boys" comes from being forced into an extremely suffocating and unhappy marriage. Maybe she ran off with some 50s biker. Maybe she abandoned her children because she was too obsessed with being loved herself that she couldn't love her children if it meant not having a man's attention. Maybe her boy craziness evolved into a raving jealousy if she didn't get her feelings reciprocated. She's a maid, right? She wants things clean and tidy. Did she murder a man? Did she spend hours scrubbing the floor so none of his blood would remain? Then maybe her arc could be about loving herself and not needing a man to define her identity. Maybe it could be unpacking internalized misogyny and coming to terms with the real pain she caused other women.

Mimzy is opportunistic. She only comes around when she needs a favor. She has no loyalty and only uses Alastor to get her out of problems. Why is she like that? Who taught her that relationships were transactional instead of committal? Maybe she was once a naive young girl who got 'used' for something, and it soured her opinion on other people. I mean, she's plus-sized during the FLAPPER era, where thin was like 1990s level of in. But there's a lot of plus-sized women who talk about being some guy's sneaky link, because he wants to prey on her insecurity and get her into bed, but then never be seen with her, because she's not a socially acceptable dating option. Did Mimzy get her heart broken, and now she doesn't trust anyone? Now she just uses people for what they're good for, because hurt people hurt people, and she's continuing a cycle she herself was a victim to? Maybe Mimzy's redemption could be about letting people in, about not letting trauma turn her into a bad person.

Husk is an alcoholic and a gambling addict. Most people don't just pick up those hobbies for the fun of it. Husk is a miserable little man, and he was probably driven to drink because of his own unhappiness. He was pansexual in the 1970s, right? Maybe he couldn't accept himself or he was forced to not accept himself. Maybe he was forced into a loveless marriage, and he started to go out to the casino to get away from the wife and family he never wanted. But more and more and more he spends time over there, because he doesn't want to go home. And soon he becomes dependent on booze and gambling because it gives him a little joy in his miserable life. But addiction doesn't hurt just the addicted person. It hurts everyone around him. He starts skipping work to gamble. He loses his job. He steals money from his wife. He bets the car. Then the house. He leaves his family destitute, and he's convinced he's the victim because he never wanted to be a husband and father in the first place. When he dies of alcohol poisoning, his family doesn't even claim his body. His redemption could be about how when your own life sucks, it's not an excuse to hurt others. You have to find better ways to cope with a bad hand.

Angel Dust is too many things. He's a prostitute and a porn star and a gay man in the 30s and a gangster and a drug-addict. But if we were gonna try and make all of that make sense, Angel Dust is very family-oriented. He grew up in a mob family. Loyalty is EVERYTHING. So in his mind, killing people was a lesser sin than "betraying" his family by not getting rid of their enemies. His family is everything to him. So he can't be gay. He can't. He can't. He's SO repressed. He refuses to acknowledge it. He spends his entire, short life, trying to fit the mold of a perfect, loyal son. But… he did kill a LOT of people… So when he dies in some shoot out, he goes to hell, and he snaps. He did EVERYTHING he thought was right. He did everything his family told him to do. He was the perfect son, and when he dies he gets sent to hell. He immediately loses all inhibition. He's still a sex/drug addict, but only after he winds up in hell. He's going to spend eternity giving into every single base desire he denied himself while alive. It's destroying him. He's selling himself to men, but deep down he's still ashamed and wondering what his family would think. He drowns out those thoughts with more sex and drugs. Angel's redemption arc is about balance. Yes, he should have been able to be true to himself while alive, but complete indulgence is just as hurtful to him as complete denial.

Sir Pentious… why is he even in hell? I mean, he's a little annoying, and in the pilot he was involved in a gang war, but what did he do in life to justify being sent to hell? Well, he was a Victorian Englishman, so I'm gonna say racism! Horrible racism and colonialsim. He was raised in a time where those were the dominant thought patterns, and he did not analyze them one bit. Conflict can come when black-coded characters like Alastor and Husk expect to be treated like human beings. And Charlie has to face the difficulty of believing a person can change, but how to deal with the current harm they're causing the people she cares about. Maybe Sir Pentious isn't a recorring cast member. Maybe he came to the hotel because he thinks he should be in Heaven. He brought glory to the British empire. He was a kind gentleman. He donated to charities. But he leaves the hotel because he doesn't think "those people" are good enough for Heaven. He refuses to acknowledge his behavior as needing to be changed, but Charlie tells him there is a spot at the hotel when he's ready to change. His character is about how you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. He can be offered all the chances in the world to be better, but until he can come to terms with his own capacity for evil, he can't be redeemed.

Cherry Bomb doesn't exist, because she's a superfluous character that doesn't fit in my rewrite. Sir Pentious doesn't get a love interest, and Angel Dust's friend is now Vaggie.

No fallen angel crud. Vaggie was a prostitute that got murdered like Viv originally planned for her to be like 10 years ago. I think Vaggie shows some really codependent traits in the show. Charlie seems to be her entire world. She sings about being her armor. She's willing to put herself in harm's way to defend her, even die for her. She doesn't seem to care much about the other patron's of the hotel apart from them being facet's of Charlie's dream. Maybe Vaggie was one of those poor women who gets trafficked by their boyfriend (or maybe girlfriend in her case). A single person becomes her whole entire world, and she's willing to do ANYTHING for them. Even put herself in dangerous situations that lead to her death… But she did it for love! <3 She hurts herself for love.. for approval. And maybe the show can get into a conversation about what sin really is. So many people define sin as harmed caused to others, but what about harm caused to yourself? Viv originally stated that Vaggie's feelings for Charlie were one-sided, and I think that detail would be even more poignant in this interpretation of her character. She's trying so hard to be noticed and to be loved, and Charlie's become a goddess in her eyes. She puts her on such a pedastal she has no room for her own worth. Her arc is maybe a bit too similiar to Nifty's depending on how we choose to interpret her character, but it's also about finding identity outside of others and being able to set boundaries. Because loving someone and wanting to help them and wanting to protect them are not bad impulses, but like anything else, when taken to extremes it becomes something bad. Dependency can twist love into obession.

Lucifer is the Devil! He's evil! No sad-man, Dad-trying-his-best nonsense! He's evil! The big twist of Hazbin Hotel is that they're not in Hell! They're in Purgatory. There are no sins that cannot be forgiven, but sin can also not enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Purgatory is a place where your sins are burned away so that eventually you can join God in heaven. In Purgatorio, Dante depicts Purgatory as a place of effort. People are in constantly motion striving to get closer to heaven. Purgatory in Hazbin could be a place where people get a second chance to work on their vices. If they couldn't be a good person in life, then they have all of eternity to try again. But Lucifer, the prince of LIES, has convinced everyone they're in Hell. There is no redemption. There is no getting better. He causes the sinners to fall into a great despair. Why try getting better if there is no hope? So when people learn they're in hell, they dig in their heels. They lean even further into vice. They cannot experience love or laughter or joy again. So they settle for booze and sex and violence, anything to numb the pain of knowing they're trapped forever. But is a hell of their own making, little do they know. By tricking generations of sinners, not a single soul has redeemed itself and gotten to heaven in centuries. That's why no one believes it's possible. That's why when Charlie suggests it, he's furiously disapproving of her. He doesn't want people to get better. He doesn't want to improve. He wants everyone to be as miserable as he is, because misery loves company. But he can't tip his hat too much or the older souls might get suspicious. He is the Prince of Lies. His power comes not from strength but from manipulation. The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist. In Hazin, the greatest trick he ever pulled was convincing people there's no hope for themselves. I was once told that Judas's great sin was not betraying Jesus, but his own suicide after falling into despair. How glorious it would have been to go to a church named after Judas the Repentent. But alas, it is not so. The greatest sin you can commit against yourself is thinking you're too far gone.

And that's why I think Alastor is the central sinner to the narrative. Because he shares Lucifer's viewpoint. People can't get better. Nothing ever gets better. People are bad or people are good, and you can't be both. And who could blame him for having that idea? Let's just pretend that Alastor's lack of visual black-coding is because he is a VERY white-passing creole man. And because of that, he was treated so differently than his mother. And he was treated differently when people found out about his heritage. He became a big radio host. He was popular. He was famous. But he wasn't seen as an equal human being. He was a performer to be enjoyed, but never a person to be respected. He was "one of the good ones" at BEST. And he believed in the good of people. His mother was such a kind soul. She instilled in him that everyone has good inside of them. So he waited to see it. He waited and he waited, and he only saw increasing racism and violence towards his people. One day he just snaps and kills someone, and he considers it a justice. People like that are never going to change. The world is better without them. So he just keeps murdering racists until he gets shot in the head. And when he finds himself in hell, he believes even LESS in the good of people or God or heaven or whatever. If killing racists sent him to hell, then God is evil, and the idea of objective morality in and of itself is perposterous. Positioning Alastor as a vigilante killer would also make some of his comic depictions make more sense. Like he's a really nice guy to Rosie and other women, but he's also a violent murderous man. It's because he thinks people are good or bad, and if you're bad it justifies whatever he does to you. The cannibalism might also be like a power thing. Alastor's arc is about believing in Charlie's mission, genuinely. Eventually, it's not about watching people stumble and fall, because there's a cosmic humor to the cruelty of the universe. He starts to genuinely see people improve, but he fights against the idea, because his life was defined by static, perpetual, instituional evil. Maybe a soul gets redeemed before his very eyes, and he still doesn't believe it. Because to admit a human's capacity for moral growth is to completely restructure his entire understanding of the world, and that's scary.

Finally, Charlie. Princess of Hell. I've always been rather fond of Tolkien's sentiment that evil cannot create, only corrupt. So I don't think Lucifer is her real father. I think Charlie was like… a baby angel. And when Lucifer was leading his rebellion he stole children and forced them to fall to hell with him. It was just another way to bring misery, forcing the innocent to share the burden of his punishment. I think he got a sick pleasure from raising her. He "loved" her, or at least she thought he did. He was very, very good as playing Father. Prince of Lies and all that. He gets a chuckle knowing she's so happy here rotting in hell and has no idea what she's missing from her true destiny in Heaven. But that goodness inside of her can't be extinguished. She's an angel. She has a natural instinct to help human souls and fight evil. But because she was raised in Hell, she doesn't understand the complexities of sin that the elder angels would have informed her about. She's naive, and she certainly has to learn how to help guide people towards a brighter path, but she doesn't change her stance. So many times characters who believe in the good of people end stories with some pessimistic maturity where they realize that some people can't be helped. But Charlie doesn't change. Charlie stands firm at the end of the series believing that EVERYONE can be redeemed. It won't be easy, and you could argue it's not even fair, but she believes it. Lucifer chastises her, saying it'll take an eternity to change a sinner's mind, but she just smiles. Because an eternity is what she has, and she'll spend it helping people.

Also Chalastor is canon.

#hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel critique #hazin hotel rewrite #adam and lute don't exist because heaven is actually good in this rewrite #also the vees might exist but definitely not in the form they do now #the extermination is done by lucifer and the other demons #they get their kicks watching sinners scream and run and beg for their afterlives #it also causes a false sense of scarcity which makes them act even worse to each other

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