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fastandcarlos · 4 months ago

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Dangerous Game : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: losing your independence whilst pregnant was tough, but when you try and be a little bit dangerous, oscar is far from impressed to see you do so

Panic struck you as soon as you heard the front door open, dropping the paintbrush down onto the floor as your feet scrambled to get you down the ladder that you were up. As Oscar called out through the house you shouted back, placing the lid back on the paint pot and hiding the brush underneath one of the cardboard boxes in the room.

As your eyes darted around you kept finding things to hide, moving bits around the room as the sound of Oscar’s footsteps got louder and louder towards the room.

Just as the door handle was pushed down, you sat yourself down on the rocking chair that was in the corner of the room, leaning back with a smile on your face as Oscar walked in with his suitcase just behind him.

“I didn’t think I’d find you in here,” he remarked, glancing around the room.

It had been a couple of weeks since Oscar had been home but straight away his eyes narrowed as he looked around the room. Something wasn’t quite sitting right with him, taking a good look around the room as he remembered how things were when he left a short time ago.

“It looks different in here,” Oscar commented, noticing your eyes looking a little more nervously at him then they usually did. “Have you made a few changes?”

Your head nodded as you forced a smile onto your face, “I’ve just been doing the odd little bit here and there, trying to make life easier for you so there was less to do when you got back.”

Oscar nodded too as you spoke, walking further into the room. Your heart began to race as his eyes narrowed on something, walking over and picking up the paintbrush that you had tried your best to hide, quickly noticing that it was still covered in paint, as was the ladder where droplets had fallen.

“Please tell me you’ve not been up a ladder painting this nursery,” Oscar asked you, although he already knew the answer, unable to quite believe what you had been up to.

Oscar had left you under the promise that you would do everything possible to keep yourself as safe as you could without him there. He was reluctant to go, but he trusted you. The worried part of you couldn’t keep that promise though, conscious of how much you had left to do and how little time you had before your baby arrived.

“What if you’d have fallen from the ladder Y/N? Are you actually out of your mind?”

Your body tensed up at the harsh tone in Oscar’s voice. “No, I’m not. I’m fed up of being treated like I’m unable to do anything though, I was only a couple of steps up and I was completely in control of what I was doing Oscar.”

“Anything could have happened Y/N.”

It didn’t exactly seem like the most dangerous job in the world to you, but to Oscar, it was almost as if you were tempting fate. He was happy for you to do a few jobs around the nursery, but the hardworking jobs, like painting and building, he wanted to do to make sure that you didn’t run the risk of injuring yourself.

Oscar dropped the paintbrush back down, brushing his hands through his hair as he tried his best to stay calm. There was an anger in him that you hadn’t seen for a long time, taking you by complete surprise.

“I’m not joking when I tell you not to do these things,” Oscar spoke, turning back to face you again. “It’s hard enough leaving you at the best of times, but especially so when you’re pregnant, and even more so when I know you’re not being safe.”

“Surely I’m the one who decides when I’m being safe and not safe,” you argued. “Every time you say you’ll do something, something else comes along, we can’t keep doing that forever Oscar.”

Painting the nursery was one of those things that Oscar had insisted that he would do for quite some time, but nothing ever materialised. It was either work, or family, or the time when he came home and fell asleep instead because he was so tired, but Oscar seemed unbothered that time was running out.

“We’re supposed to do these things together, as parents,” Oscar calmly reminded you.

“We can, but you’re never here.”

“I’m here right now,” he huffed, throwing his arms down by his sides. “I know that I’m busy, and trust me, I wish that I wasn’t, but the thought of something happening to you absolutely terrifies me love.”

A soft sigh came from you, “I didn’t realise that you were this worried about me.”

Oscar took a step towards you, taking a hold of both of your hands. “Every second I’m worrying about you, nervous when the phone goes that it’ll be someone to tell me that something has happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered as Oscar gave your hands a squeeze. “I guess I’m quite calm right now, I just assumed that you would be feeling the same.”

To Oscar, you were far too calm for his liking, he couldn’t believe how you just took pregnancy in your stride like it was nothing huge. He watched you carry on as if nothing was changing, with your big smile constantly still on your face.

He was well aware that you wanted very little to change, you still wanted to be you, to be independent, and to be organised, even if he didn’t want you to be. Oscar wanted to step up though, your pregnancy was a chance for him to take control and take care of you, despite your protests.

“The only person going up that ladder for the next three months is me,” Oscar told you, “but I still want you to be involved and doing things as well.”

You nodded at Oscar’s suggestion, although you knew the ladder was pretty harmless, before you drove Oscar insane, you knew not going up it anymore was the best decision.

“We’ll get this done, together,” Oscar assured you.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

“How about we make a start tonight?” He proposed. “Let’s order some food and plan out the jobs that we need to get done. I’ll get up the ladder and we can bring one of the chairs in from the dining room so that you can sit down and paint the lower parts of the walls. Does that sound like a plan?”

Your smile turned up as soon as Oscar started speaking. “That sounds like the perfect way to spend tonight. You don’t have to do all of this though Oscar, the baby isn’t going to be arriving tomorrow.”

“I’ve not done enough so far, I’ve got plenty of making up to do for all the jobs I’ve neglected,” he assured you.

Your hands slipped out of his and wrapped around Oscar’s neck. “I’m sorry for breaking your trust whilst you were away, I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Don’t be sorry, I get it. We’ve just got very different definitions of what safe activities are for pregnant women to do,” he couldn’t help but joke.

“I only did it because I was bored without you around.”

Oscar questionably glanced back at you, “I know for a fact you’d have been up that ladder anyway, but I’ll pretend to believe you. I love you, just promise you’ll take care of you, of both of you, for me.”

“I promise that we’re both safe, and healthy, and we will continue to be too,” you smiled, pressing a kiss against Oscar’s lips. “Welcome home by the way.”

“It seems like I got home just in time.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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crescenthistory · 2 months ago

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Still Just Totally the Fifth and Sixth Wheel, You Guys

Pairing: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: The two couples, and one pair of best friends who are not dating thank you very much, finally go on their not-date to Hogsmeade.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader (she/her pronouns), use of y/n, lots of bickering and banter, mentions of black brothers drama and angst, healing brother bond, hella pining, intimate moments, talk of kissing, brief mention of hooking up, featuring rosekiller and wolfstar

Note: this is part two to this fic. part three can be found here.

“Wait, but if it’s not a date now, can’t I join?” James called from where you were all about to leave him behind in the Entrance Hall.

You almost felt bad for him, but couldn’t fight the small laughter as you were the last of the six of you to turn around to look at him.

“Sorry, Prongsy, but it is still strictly for couples,” Sirius said, and upon seeing Regulus turn to him, about to argue, he added, “or those who are best friends enough to be mistaken for a couple.”

“So unless you finally win Evans over, or get much closer to Wormy…” Remus’ voice trailed off, the apology in his tone weakened by his sight smile.

You could barely make out James murmuring “totally unfair” under his breath, before he gave a tight-lipped smile and waved. “Will go work on that, then!”

“Good luck!” you and Barty called at the same time, though in completely different tones, before your little group turned back around to continue towards Hogsmeade and this dreaded not a triple date you were somehow sort of looking forward to.

As the six of you walked, the chilly autumn air wrapped itself around you, nipping at your nose and cheeks. You were trailing slightly behind the others, arms linked with Regulus, the both of you sinking into the easy silence that had always come naturally. His long, lithe frame was stiff beside you, and though he never said anything, you could sense his reluctance. His hesitation clung to him like the cold mist swirling around your ankles.

"Still time to run," you whispered with a teasing lilt, tilting your head towards the forbidden forest that loomed dark and mysterious off to the side. “We can ditch the whole thing. Just you, me, and a pack of hungry werewolves – sounds fun, right?”

Regulus glanced sideways at you, the ghost of a smile flickering across his face. "Tempting," he murmured, his voice soft and low, the kind of sound you had to lean in to catch. “But... it might be nice to spend some time with Sirius.” He sounded less sure about that part.

You squeezed his arm gently, offering a reassuring smile, and felt him lean further into you in response. You both knew that his relationship with Sirius had been strained, fractured by years of tension, secrets, and choices neither of them were ever fully ready to confront. That made the faint glimmer of hope in Regulus' eyes all the more important, both to you and him. An unspoken desire to bridge the gap both brothers had been toying with – you knew you would support him through it, no matter how long it took to fully heal.

"Well, if you’re sure," you replied, letting your playful tone linger, as if to lighten the weight between his words. “But the offer still stands. Any time, really.”

Regulus chuckled under his breath, his body easing a little as the two of you continued your slow pace. The rest of the group – Sirius, Remus, Barty, and Evan – were ahead, animated in their own conversations. Barty was half-draped over Evan, practically buzzing with energy, while Evan walked beside him with a brooding air, casting occasional amused glances at his boyfriend. They were a chaotic contrast, loud and quiet, impulsive and restrained, but there was an undeniable balance between them that was hard to miss.

Barty's eyes glinted with mischief as he stole a look back at you and Regulus. "Oi, lovebirds!" he called out, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "You're falling behind. Regulus, not getting cold feet, are you?"

Regulus rolled his eyes, but before he could reply, Sirius cut in with a bark of laughter. "He was born with cold feet, look at the state of him. But let him be Junior."

Contrasting statements you heard Regulus murmur beside you.

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch up,” you interjected smoothly, though not altering your pace as you gave Regulus a light tug on his arm, as if to shield him.

Finally reaching Hogsmeade, you passed through its cobbled streets, bustling with students eager to escape the confines of the castle. The Three Broomsticks was already crowded when you arrived, warmth spilling out into the chilly air from its open door. You were greeted by the comforting scent of butterbeer and the hum of conversation, the perfect haven from the cold outside.

Inside, you all squeezed around one of the larger tables near the fireplace. The seating arrangements happened naturally – couples with couples, as Barty heartily proclaimed – with Barty predictably claiming a spot beside Evan, his arm thrown lazily around his back as he chattered away. Sirius plopped himself down next to Remus, already in the middle of a bickering debate over who had a better strategy in last night’s chess game.

You and Regulus, as usual, gravitated towards each other, sitting opposite Sirius and Remus and beside Evan and Barty. You moved your chair closer to Regulus', so that your thighs were practically smushed against each other and you could hook your ankle around his. A faint smile played across his lips as he settled in. The heat from the nearby fire was welcome, but the slight tension of being roped into all of this was still palpable.

"So," Sirius started, stretching the word as if he were setting up for something, eyes flicking between you and Regulus, "what’s new with you two? Anything you'd like to share?"

You shot him a pointed look but didn’t bite. Regulus seemed content to let you take the lead on this one, his focus elsewhere, probably already imagining an escape route.

“Same as always,” you said casually, though your words were lightly laced with sarcasm. "Being unfairly dragged into your romantic schemes. Couldn’t ask for more, really."

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but Barty cut him off. "Speaking of romantic schemes," he drawled, "Evan and I are officially a thing now, right? Isn’t that right, darling?" He nudged Evan, who simply raised a brow in his direction.

"That’s what you’ve told me," Evan said dryly, though his eyes softened as he looked at Barty.

"Exactly," Barty continued, undeterred. "But Dorcas doesn't believe us! She thinks we're playing some prank on her. Now, how do we prove it to her?"

"Why doesn't she believe you?" Remus asked, a sly smile playing over his lips.

"Barty and Dorcas have quite the history of pranks none of us understand," you explain, looking half-exasperated half-amused at your best friend. "They try to convince the other of something untrue, only to laugh at them for weeks. Last year, Dorcas made Barty believe–"

"No one needs to hear that story, Treasure." Barty cutting you off made you and Regulus giggle, both knowing why he didn't want anyone to know, while Sirius looked highly offended of being left out.

"Well, I'd like to know," he tries his luck.

"Too bad I don't care for what you want then, hm? Anyway, how do we prove it to Dorc, because Evan here thinks it's taking it too far to shag in her bed."

"I would have to second Rosier on that," Regulus drawls, mirth still in his eyes from laughing at Barty's expense.

"Me too."

"No, no," Sirius gleams. "I think you should totally do it, I have DADA with her and reckon she could kill you in just about fifty ways."

"That would be a welcome sight," Evan says. Barty slaps his arm without turning to look at him, while waving his other hand in everyone's faces.

"Yeah, yeah, funny, funny – now let's talk strategies, you tossers."

As the babbling continues, Sirius and Barty turning out to be a perfect duo who makes each other so much worse, you lean into Regulus' side, looking up at him through your lashes. He is already looking at you, having turned his attention when he felt you shift.

You mouth a you good? at him, to which he smiles and nod. Your lips mirror his when you realise it's genuine, reaching down to grab his hand under the table and squeeze it. He squeezes back, before looking up when he senses his brother trying to get his attention.

"Where did you get these freaky friends of yours?" Sirius questions, gesturing vaguely to Barty and Evan, the latter of whom's hand was currently being gnawed on by the former. Evan's face remained impassive.

"First year." Regulus provided no further invitation, blinking owlishly at his brother.

"Yeah, that's really the only way, isn't it? Merlin, they're a match for sure though."

You cock a teasing brow at Barty as he lets Evan's hand go from his teeth, only to hold it in a death grip. "You that bored already, Junior?"

"Yes, Treasure, thank you for noticing. It needs to be addressed." Barty's voice is overtly dramatic, as he digs into his jacket pocket.

He conjured up a deck of magical cards, all but slinging the container onto the table, just barely missing the candles, as he began to shuffle them with a flourish. "Let's make things more interesting. Care for a game?"

"Doesn't seem like we're given much of a choice," Sirius murmured at the same time as Remus said sure! and elbowed his boyfriend in the side.

Regulus groaned. “We all know you always cheat Barty, I catch you almost every time."

“That’s because you don't know how to have fun,” Barty replied, flipping a card over and eyeing it dramatically before sliding it back into the deck. “And obviously delusional, as I would do no such thing."

He gives you a wink and you roll your eyes, albeit with a smile.

A small fight ensues between Barty and Sirius as they try and decide on what game to play, before Remus makes a decision for all of you, taking the cards from Barty to stock them properly.

"It's everyone for themselves right?" he asked as he looked down at the cards.

"No, Treasure and Regulus always play together." Barty's comment is off-handed, going off of instinct.

"Always?" Sirius' smirk is teasing as his gaze flickers between the two of you.

"Yeah, she doesn't care much for most card games, so we usually just pair off," Regulus explains matter-of-factly, though his voice is a bit quieter than normal and his hand unconsciously tightens around yours. It's only now you realise you're still holding hands, unsure if you should use it to ground yourself or panic over.

"Yeah, they're inseparable yada yada." Evan rolled his eyes, as if you two were just horribly exhausting.

"Just like us," Barty teased in an overly-happy voice, kissing Evan square on the lips with an overdramatised smooching sound.

"Disgusting," Evan winced, wiping his mouth before wrapping an arm around Barty and squeezing him tight.

Sirius looked thoroughly confused at the boys' expressions of affection, but seemed to let it go.

You exchanged an amused glance with Regulus. "You wanna look at our cards?" you asked, nudging him gently while eyeing the cards Remus had placed in front of you. He seemed to take a moment to rip his eyes away from you before picking up the cards, moving even closer to you.

Soon, the table was abuzz with laughter, shuffling cards, and accusations of cheating flying in every direction. It didn’t take long for you and Regulus to settle into a comfortable rhythm, working together to strategise while everyone else tried to undermine each other. Even Evan, typically more reserved, joined in on the playful taunts, a small smirk on his face as Barty egged him on.

“Barty, you’ve been ‘shuffling’ those cards for three minutes straight,” Remus commented dryly, watching Barty’s theatrical motions as he tossed the cards between his hands. “At this point, you’ve either enchanted them or lost the ability to count.”

Evan, smirking beside him, shook his head. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Oi!” Barty exclaimed, feigning offence, before tossing an arm over Evan’s shoulder with a mischievous grin. “Don't you lot dare forget how naturally brilliant I am. I know numbers and I don't cheat.”

"Yeah, you sounded really smart just now, mate."

“Brilliantly annoying,” you quipped, grinning as you drew a card from the deck and slid it over to Regulus. “That counts for something, I suppose.”

“Thank you, Treasure,” Barty shot back, tilting his head as if he’d just received a compliment. “You always know how to flatter me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the laughter bubbling up. Regulus, sitting next to you, leaned in slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips as he observed the scene unfolding in front of him.

“They can’t help it, Junior,” Sirius chimed in with a grin that was borderline feral, leaning back in his chair as he tossed his cards onto the table. “They have to deflect. It’s either that or admit they’ve got no idea what they’re doing.”

“Excuse you, we’re doing perfectly fine,” you replied, your competitive streak flashing as you glanced at Regulus. “Reg and I are winning, aren’t we?”

Regulus gave a barely perceptible nod, lips twitching at the corners. “As usual,” he murmured under his breath, flipping over a card with precise ease. “But you don’t have to tell them that.”

Your quiet, shared moment of confidence made your stomach flip, though you kept your expression calm and collected. There was something so steady about Regulus, something that made it easy to forget about the noise around you, the teasing jabs from the others, and just sink into the comfort of his presence.

“Winning by sheer luck, more like,” Sirius teased, drumming his fingers on the table. “What’s next, Reg? Gonna let her do all the work while you sit there looking pretty?”

Before Regulus could respond, Barty leaned forward with a wicked grin. “Oh, he’s definitely good at looking pretty. Right, Y/N?”

You rolled your eyes again, though your cheeks warmed at the implication. “I don’t need to answer that. Though shouldn't you focus on calling your boyfriend that, instead?”

"Yeah, I'll call mine pretty if you do the same to yours."

You stuck your tongue out at him at that, retreating back into Regulus to look at your cards.

He had stayed quiet, but you could feel the amusement radiating off him. He gave a subtle shrug, like the teasing was something he was long accustomed to. His knee bumped yours beneath the table, a silent gesture that said let them talk, it doesn't matter.

“Doesn't matter,” you added, taking another sip of your butterbeer with a smirk. “We’re still winning.”

“You two are disgustingly good together,” Barty agreed, leaning back in his chair and lazily drawing a card from the deck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were the ones cheating.”

Evan snorted. “Shut it, Junior.”

“You adore me,” Barty shot back without missing a beat, pressing a kiss to Evan’s cheek, much to the other boy’s quiet amusement.

The group fell into a rhythm, exchanging playful insults and light bickering as the game progressed. You were deep in conversation with Regulus about your next move when you took another sip of your butterbeer, not realising a bit of foam had clung to your upper lip.

Regulus, ever observant, caught it immediately. You, completely unaware, kept talking, pointing at one of the cards in front of him and suggesting a play. He wasn’t paying attention to the cards anymore, though. Instead, his focus had shifted entirely to the butterbeer foam, and without thinking – without hesitation – he reached up.

His thumb brushed against your upper lip, so soft and natural that you almost didn’t register what was happening until it was done. His touch was tender, deliberate, like it was something he did every day. The action made you pause, your words catching in your throat as his thumb lingered for just a second longer, other knuckles brushing against your cheek, his skin warm against yours.

Your eyes lifted to meet his, and suddenly, everything else seemed to fade away. The loud chatter of the group, the clatter of cards, the clinking of glasses – it all dulled in the background as the two of you became the centre of a much quieter, more intimate world.

Regulus’ gaze was steady, softer than usual, like he was studying you, reading into something deeper. His hand hovered near your face, frozen in place as the moment between you stretched longer than either of you had intended.

You felt your breath hitch slightly, the warmth from his thumb still lingering on your skin, and the look in his eyes made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the game. There was something unsaid in the way he looked at you, something that hummed beneath the surface.

Neither of you spoke. The moment hung between you, fragile and delicate, like a thread waiting to be pulled.

For a second, you thought he might say something, or do something more. His thumb lingered, hovering just above your skin, and his eyes flicked to your lips, just for a heartbeat, before darting back to meet your gaze. Your pulse quickened as the silence deepened, the air between you charged with something new, something you weren’t sure either of you were ready to acknowledge.

But before anything could happen, Barty’s loud laugh from across the table shattered the bubble around you. Right. There were other people around.

You blinked, the spell broken, and Regulus pulled his hand back with a soft clearing of his throat. His expression didn’t change much – he was as composed as ever – but there was a subtle pink tinge to his cheeks that told you the moment had affected him just as much as it had you.

“Everything alright there, Reg?” Barty asked, his voice full of smug amusement as he leaned back in his chair, looking between the two of you with a knowing smirk. You felt the heat rise in your face again, but you didn’t let it show, instead giving Regulus a playful nudge under the table with your knee.

Regulus, ever calm, only narrowed his eyes at Barty in return. “Just fine,” he said coolly, though you noticed the faint curve of a smile tugging at his lips. He was used to Barty’s antics by now, and though he could’ve easily snapped back, he chose instead to let the moment pass, his arm brushing lightly against your shoulder as he shifted in his seat.

Barty, however, wasn’t done. “I don’t know, mate. You looked a bit… distracted.”

“Oh, he was,” Sirius chimed in, grinning as he kept his eyes trained on the two of you. “Completely gone. He’s mastered the art of selective hearing.”

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “I’m sure it’s just his natural state from growing up with you. Completely unbothered by all of your nonsense by now.” Deflecting, deflecting.

“I don’t know,” Remus added with a thoughtful look. “He seemed pretty focused on something else entirely.”

You were saved from responding by the loud call of Madam Rosmerta that all Hogwarts students had to leave for curfew. Groans sounded around the room, and around your very own table, but no one dared argue with her – they knew it was no use. Everyone began gathering their things, the light atmosphere continuing with playful jabs and comments flying between the group as they readied to head back out into the cold.

You and Regulus were the first ones out the door, regretfully, as you had to wait for the others. As you stood, tugging your coat tighter around you, the bitter wind immediately stung your fingers. You rubbed them together, trying to chase the chill from your skin, but the cold had already settled in deep.

Without a word, Regulus took your hands gently in his own, his long fingers wrapping around yours with a kind of care that felt second nature to him. Before you could react, he brought your hands to his lips and blew warm air onto them while rubbing with his hands, breath hot against your cold skin.

You blinked in surprise, but the gesture felt so natural, so easy, that it didn’t seem out of place. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness – just Regulus being Regulus, quietly looking after you in the way only he knew how. His hands lingered over yours for a moment longer before he slipped off his gloves and slid them onto your hands with the same gentle touch.

"Better?" he asked, his voice low and fond, almost like he was speaking only to you despite the many students bustling around you.

You nodded, feeling the warmth of the gloves and the lingering heat from his touch. “Much better. Thanks.”

His eyes met yours again, softer this time, and there was that unspoken connection again – only now it felt less like something that needed to be questioned, and more like something that just was.

“Won’t you get cold, though?”

“Nah, you know I run warmer than you.” There was an endearingly teasing tone in Regulus’ voice as he looked past you. “Plus, I’ve got you beside me to keep me warm, right?”

You bit back the always sitting prettily on your tongue, instead just nodding and pressing your nose into his shoulder as you stood close. For warmth, of course.

Sirius and Remus finally make their way outside, Barty and Evan not too far behind them. The first of the bunch give you and Regulus a once over when he sees you huddled together.

“Well, I’m glad to see tonight didn’t change my mind whatsoever that you two are a thing, whether you know it yourselves or not,” he says in a neutral tone, though his creeping smirk betrays him.

“I didn’t know that was still on the table,” you say dryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Of course it was!” Sirius scoffs lightheartedly. “You two, sitting there together, basically telepathically in sync. No wonder you always team up for cards – it’s frankly disturbing.”

“Oh, come off it, Siri.” Regulus wasn’t looking at Sirius when the comment slipped off his tongue, so he couldn’t catch the slight hitch at the sound of his childhood nickname. You smile softly at him, but he keeps his eyes on Regulus, seemingly trying to keep steady.

“As your big brother, I don’t think I can. It’s my duty to meddle”

“Leave the kids alone, sweetheart,” Remus says, coming up beside Sirius with a knowing smile. “You’re just jealous you’ve never been able to sit quietly for more than five minutes, let alone work together with someone without bickering the whole time.”

Sirius gasped in mock offence. “That’s because I have passion,” Sirius declared, flipping his hair back with a grin. “It’s not bickering if it’s done with flair.”

Barty finally stepped out to hear that, and, always ready to cause more chaos, chimed in. “Oh, please. You lot wouldn’t know passion if it hit you in the face. Now, we”—he pointed between himself and Evan—“are the real deal. You should’ve seen us strategising earlier. Absolute power couple material.”

“You weren’t even playing together, Barty,” you commented, but he gave you a look that said please.

“My life doesn’t revolve around you lot, we have other things to strategise about. Like Dorcas.”

That received a few “right”s from around the group, to which you lovingly rolled your eyes. Barty blabbered on about something, stalling the group from beginning to move back towards the castle, and you took the opportunity to turn back towards Regulus.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, and trying to school your expression as you studied what you found there. The soft crinkle around his eyes, the quiet warmth swirling around his otherwise cool irises. You took his bare hands between your gloved ones, rubbing lightly at them to keep him warm, as promised.

For another beautiful moment, the two of you stood still, lost in your own world. The noise of the others faded into the background as Regulus’ eyes flicked to your lips, just for a split second, before meeting your gaze again. His hands move to hold each of yours independently, fingers intertwining with yours, despite that exposing his skin back to the cold air again.

You felt the flutter in your chest again, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were – that maybe, just maybe, there was more between you than friendship. Before either of you could say anything, you pulled your gaze away from his, focusing it back to your group of friends, who seemed increasingly eager to walk home.

“Alright, lovebirds, you done being all cute, or do we need to give you more time?” Barty said, looking at you with a smug look on his face.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but you quickly brushed it off, shaking your head. “You never quit, do you, Barty?”

“Never,” he replied, flashing you an exaggerated wink. “You know me too well.”

Regulus shot Barty a sharp look, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Maybe you should find a new hobby,” he suggested dryly. “One that doesn’t involve sticking your nose in other people’s business.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Barty grinned. “Besides, I’d be out of material if you two would just finally–”

“Barty,” Evan interrupted, giving him a pointed look as he slid an arm around his waist. “Let them be.”

Barty pouted dramatically, but he relented, leaning into Evan as they started walking. “Fine, fine. But I’m just saying – it’s only a matter of time.”

Sirius looked baffled at how easily Evan made Barty shut up, mumbling something about we should always bring him with to Remus.

Regulus shook his head, his arm brushing against yours as you fell in step beside each other, trailing behind the rest of the group. Your hands were still warm inside his gloves, and every now and then, your shoulders would brush as you walked, the quiet connection between you speaking louder than words ever could.

Regulus glanced down at you, his expression thoughtful. The quiet between you felt comfortable, but there was an intensity in the way he looked at you, something that made your breath catch again.

All that was running through Regulus' head was how beautiful you looked in the nighttime, surrounded by cold air that came out in white puffs when you breathed. How beautiful you had looked inside by the fire, laughing beside him, butterbeer foam on your lips – or better yet, his thumb on your lips. He realised as he walked that you were always on his mind like this, and you were always so unbelievably beautiful.

And finally, he realised that when he had looked at your lips, he wanted to kiss them.

Regulus knew that if he ever got the bollocks to do so, Barty would never let him live it down.

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ladyshrike · 5 months ago

Text

The Four Times You Say His Full Name

Am I any good at writing? Not really. It's all over the place in my opinion, but I had to get this thought out one way or another.

The four times you called him by his full name.

This first time you called him "Kenji" instead of a nickname, was back in LA. You were working a wedding up in Griffith Park, a beautiful little affair under the strawberry moon. It's all the witchy vibes you adore, a little wedding mixed with a baby shower, good vibes, blessings and tides. They'd offered you some food, which you wouldn't turn down as a known foodie, and that was when you got the call.

Ken had been riding home from the party in the hills and crashed his bike. He wasn't too far from Griffith, that had been the good part of taking this job, and he's been taken to Silver lake, a quick drive from the park. The couple is understanding, eventually becoming good friends with her later on, but that's a story for another time. She's racing through the streets, down the hills and to the hospital. They hadn't given you much information, just that he'd crashed and where he was. And when you get there, you ask the charge nurse for him, only to feel his arms throw themselves around your shoulders, a slightly pointed chin resting atop your head. You immediately smell the alcohol, and it's almost instant that a rage fills your chest.

"Babe! Baby! Sweetcakes~"

It takes everything, and you mean everything, not to implode then and there. You look at the nurse in front of you and take small controlled breaths.

"Is he free to go home?"

He was, having been checked over and kept under observation for two hours before they called her. According to her it's just some bad scrapes and bruises, no contusions or anything super bad, he had actually been wearing his helmet at least, just not his jacket. His bike is totaled, helmet cracked, it really is surprising that he didn't have a concussion at the very least, but through even your anger and worry, you're glad he's ok.

You drive him home, and the way there is silent. He'd sensed something was up the way you were being so cold with him, pushing his hand off your thigh, turning your head when he tried to kiss your lips, avoiding eye contact with you. And when you guys get to your shared home, and you help him in, is it the only time since the hospital that you look him in the eyes.

He sees it immediately. That rage that's practically sobering for him. The hurt. Disappointment.

It's not the only time he's ever done this, and he's not particularly tempted to tell you those two words he just knows would just set you off even if it were true.

"Mina, emergency vital check."

The floating AI robot scans him as she stands there for a moment, looking over him herself. The tension so palpable, if she chose to raise a hand at him in her frustration, she could very well slap him with it. But that wasn't her. She was the sweetest thing, practically a Disney princess, so the anger in her eyes is surprising, and new.

"He has two deep road rash injuries, and a large scrape down his side that isn't as bad as the other two. No fractures and no concussion. I suggest monitoring for any latent signs."

"Get him hooked up to a banana bag, then look up flights to Japan."

He shouldn't try to joke, or anything, but the soft scoff leaves his lips before he could stop it.

"Japan? We goin-"

"We, are not going anywhere. I'm going home to see my dad. Maybe we'll talk. Maybe we won't."

His small smile falls, a slight wince given when the IV is put in.

"Is something...is he ok?"

You shoot him a look because you know he's smart enough to understand what you were saying. You didn't want to say it, but you were done. With the empty promises, the lies, the hospital visits. You were done with it.

"Sabine-"

"Kenji, I'm done, ok? I've had it."

And there it is. He thought his parents splitting up was the worst pain, but seeing you stand at the doorway, teary eyed in anger and barely breathing steady, it shatters his heart because he can see it. You are done.

"I only ever asked you for two things. Two. And I am grateful you can at least follow one. I'll give you that, you have never cheated on me and I thank you for that. But if you constantly break this one? Constantly do this shit? How do I know that'll last?"

"H-hey, hold on-"

"No, I am done. I love you. I love your mom. You two are...the only people I consider myself close to here, but I cannot deal with this anymore. I can't deal with thinking one day I'm gonna get a call and have to identify your corpse instead of picking you up from an ER."

"It's just a couple scratches, I'm fine-"

He's done it now. He's said it.

"Forget it."

She grabs her wallet, and just her wallet. It's the only thing in her bag that she's bought herself as her bag had been a gift from him. She heads out and he tries to follow her, not able to get to her before she's speeding out of the driveway. She feels like a hypocrite, because while she isn't drunk, she is speeding like she's a NASCAR driver, and in a residential no less. She doesn't care to look at the time when she arrives at the airport, hoping to find at least one flight outbound to Japan soon. The car can stay in the parking structure for all she cares at this point, he would get a call to pick it up at the end of the month, if she decides not to come back. Her phone vibrates incessantly in her pocket for a bit, even as she's paying for the ticket she's managed to snag so last minute. Her passport is always in her wallet, so she doesn't particularly worry about how she'd get there without it. She turns her phone off, and soon enough, she's on the plane, watching LAX turn into a massive black splotch with dozens of tiny lights speckled across it in almost neat lines, as the plane departs. She's glad for the little privacy her seat offers her in first class. It's a long flight, the seats recline into a bed and everyone has their headphones on, so she isn't particularly worried that they'll hear her already quiet broken sobs.

By the end of the month, your mind is made up. You'd started accepting his calls sometime in the middle of his season. You know you shouldn't have been watching the games, it would only make the hurt worse, but it was better than ignoring him completely. And that wasn't really possible when you get notifications about him on all your social media, all which say he's in a slump and you are nowhere to be seen at his games. Everyday since you'd left, there had been a voicemail. Apologies, checking in messages, more apologies, declarations of love, and to your utmost surprise, a recording of his introduction at an AA meeting. That one particularly stuck with her. Everyday, roughly at 8 pm, a call and a voicemail with his introduction.

Maybe that was why you started taking his calls. Maybe that was why his game was getting better, back to what he usually is at. His averages get better and you, for the most part, find your anger having dissipated. By the end of the month, you're hesitantly standing in his living room as he tries to clean up the bit of clutter he had around. His shirt rides up a little and you see it. The slight scarring from the massive scrape down his side. Your lips quivers and he stops completely, dead in his tracks. He's startled by the sight of those huge wet tears that build in your eyes and his arms are around you instantly, tightly wound to prove he was ok. That he was still there. He was safe.

You cry again that night, held in his arms. He misses the game the next day. He has his thirty day chip to show you after all, and he doesn't want to leave your side to make up for lost time. He swears a promise not to do it ever again. Drink and ride he means. He isn't an alcoholic, and the AA meetings were necessary to get his license back, but he wanted her to see he regretted his decisions wholeheartedly.

The second time you said his full name was at your wedding. A year from the date he proposed to you, rather clichely you'd admit, at your monthly trip to Disneyland. The team had won a game, they were given a PR trip to Disneyland and she was an annual pass holder. She met them there, and during the cavalcade with them, he stepped off as they got to the castle, where she stood watching, and he popped the question, on one knee with a simple little ring she had spotted in a jewelry store. The team, having been in on it, cheering them on when she tearfully said yes.

Now she stands at the alter, in a gorgeous dress that fits her like a glove, his mother as her maid of Honor, and her dad as his best man because let's be honest, he thought of him as a son at this point, the way his mom thought of her as her own daughter in the time they'd all known each other, and the ceremony is relatively small, less than fifty guests, very intimate.

It's during her vows, her promises to him and vice versa that she says it. Beautifully charming smile on those lovely glossy lips of hers.

"I, Sabine Baji, take you, Kenji Sato, as my husband. Through sickness and in health, through the good times and the bad, till death do us part."

It's the sweet and short of her vows, tearfully said as her emotions run rampant. The rest of the night spent energetically celebrating.

The third time is a little more...non PG.

It's off season, he's been training here and there, enjoying some time off in their big house up in the hills. She's spending the weekend babysitting between gigs and she's been...quiet. Maybe it was the fact that she was around them so often. Maybe, it was the fact that her friends just had a little one she was watching currently, that clung to her so jealously when Kenji came around for a cuddle too. Maybe she was ovulating. The exact cause of this scenario was a blur to her really. She just recalled, well, he recalled and told her it was how it went down. Swears by it that she, as the family was driving away with the baby, fast asleep curled up in a hoodie it wouldn't let go or give back, that she looked up at him and said it.

"Kenji." It's the first time in a long time that she says his name, so he worries maybe he did something wrong again without noticing, but the look in your eyes in determined, is heated...pleading. "I want a baby."

The night didn't end for you two there. You both lost count somewhere after three, overstimulated and yet continuing like bunnies in heat. You blame the baby fever, and maybe the wine during lunch, but the venture is fruitful two months later, when four pink lines, two on each stick, and the word 'Pregnant' in bold on the digital test are laid before you two on the bathroom counter.

The same counter he would quickly have you laying against as he spread your thighs open wider, held you closer, got a little rougher with his thrusts, aiming to make the baby in you twins, according to him. Something not fruitful, unfortunately for him, but enjoyable at least.

And that takes us to the fourth and perhaps not final time you ever say his name.

Seven months later, you feel like a ship. The little peanut, you two so kindly nicknamed the baby while looking for a name, kicking around, shifting about, giving you some of the most ravenous cravings you'd ever had. Braxton Hicks, you came to be brutally informed of when waking in the middle of the night in a labor scare, had finally died off.

Or so you had thought.

When the first stab of pain shot through your side, you'd simply grimaced and sighed, shifting on the couch during the somewhat humid autumn day. You had decided to stay the Halloween weekend in, instead of going to a party while you felt like a boat. Kenji immediately notes the discomfort and tries to help.

"You want your little heart ice pack?"

You shake your head, yawning softly because yeah, it hurt, but you were too tired. You just wanted to go to sleep already.

"Ngh...no...just wanna go sleep already...come with me?"

How could he say no? He takes your hand when you ask for help getting up, and you both feel it. The sudden rush of water on your legs, his slippers. Your face is beet red and he's confused for all of two seconds before he's scrambling for the "go" bag. A Dodger duffle bag that the team's wives/significant others had decorated for them. He'd filled it with extra clothes for them, babies first outfits, washed in baby detergent, and a picture of his mom and her dad, both who couldn't be there today. You groan in annoyance because that was your favorite rug now covered in amniotic fluid, and now you would probably stain the carseats because you were not about to try and change your pants in active labor.

(Kenji had that covered, gingerly pulling your panties and pants off and helping you out new ones on, after cleaning you up with a damp towel after all. Kiss to your belly and all.)

You say it, however, sixteen hours into active labor. Minutes before midnight, almost Halloween day, like your baby wanted to share a birthday with you, which you would never mind as long as you get to hold her. It's when a particularly sharp labor pain hits that you yell it, gripping his hand so tightly you swear you hear his hand crack.

It's angry, and pained, and you swear, just after saying his full government name, that you would make him feel how this felt. No amount of epidural helped this pain, no amount of Lamaze Breathing or doulas helped prepare her or take this pain any better. She'd find a way for him to carry and birth the next one even if she'd have to become a mad scientist. She isn't good with pain already and this isn't helping.

"Kenji Sato! You are having the next one, got I-ngh!!!GOT IT?!"

He just about passed out when they announce you're crowning, because for some gods forsaken reason, he decides to look beyond the blue sheet. It's a horror he will never forget, and he swears he won't put you through another round of whatever your anatomy was doing to push yours and his little princess out of you.

And then she's there.

She's in your arms first, he's busy gathering his emotions as they cut the umbilical cord for him, and you need the first few minutes of skin to skin with her before she has to get cleaned up and given her first dose of vaccines. He holds her after, eyes bleary with tears as he does so so gingerly. He doesn't want to hurt her, doesn't want to accidentally harm her tiny little fragile body. She's a perfect amalgamation of you two. His eyes, a grayish blue, but the rest, he will happily and readily proudly admit, is all your looks. Tousled full head of soft pinky fuschia hair, eyebrows to match, rosy cheeks and little pouty lips. He swears, on everything he loves, she smiles when he is told to do skin to skin with her as well. When she curls into his warmth while you are cleaned up by the nurses. And when you two are able to take her home, when you are given the all clear and she passes her car seat test, and you three are finally back in your house, settling her down in her side sleeper by your bed, it's clear that the few times you use his full name can be bad, but most of them?

They're worth it.

#kenji sato #kenji x reader #ken sato #ultraman rising #ultraman #kenji sato x reader #kenji sato smut #technically

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

can i request some poly!marauders where reader tells them they love them for the first time… but like sooo passionate and sappy, maybe some tears of relief.. ugh i love your writing sm 😭😭

Of course you can sweetheart, sorry it took me a bit to get to it!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Lately it’s like you can hardly stop yourself. You’ll get off the phone with James, or Remus will let you run your fingers over his scars, or Sirius will braid your hair for you, and you’ll want to say Ugh, I love you.

In some ways, you feel a bit silly for agonizing over it. You know the boys have been saying it to each other for years, platonically before romantically, so sometimes it feels like you’re a bit behind the curve. Sirius flings it about like he has love in endless supply (and from what you can tell, he does). Evans, you know I love you, but that hat is a crime and You have a great personality, Prongs, but I love those big shoulders most of all and Is that drink for me, Marls? I knew I loved you for a reason. And it’s such a small thing, objectively, just three words in their natural order, but it also feels like sort of a big deal.

You do love them. So much it sometimes feels like your heart swells until it crowds out your lungs and steals your breath, but telling them is no simple matter. Do you tell them together? That feels like making a big deal out of things, like calling a family meeting or something. But if you tell them separately, you’d have to pick an order, and that could only go poorly, too. You don’t want it to be an announcement, though you don’t just want to blurt it out like it’s nothing, either. Maybe it is to some people, maybe even to them (although you don’t think so), but it’s not to you. You’ve never loved anyone like this before, let alone three people. The severity of it had hit you like a truck, all at once, vaulting you into love faster than you could catch your breath.

It's a new feeling to you, this romantic sort of love, but you have enough acumen to recognize magic when you feel it. No matter how much you hate being at the center of attention, you aren't going to trivialize that.

The confession tempts your tongue now, sitting on the bathroom counter with Sirius between your legs and James sitting on the floor beside him.

“I just think you would look cute with a couple little braids.” Sirius’ breath fans your face as he speaks, one hand on your cheek to keep you still as he does your eyeliner.

“I don’t want to look cute,” James argues. “And everyone else thinks my hair looks great as it is, thank you.”

“Cute isn’t the right word. Rakish. Kind of like a pirate.”

“You can’t change the terminology to fool me. I look rakish every day, don’t I Moony?”

“You do.” Remus comes to lean in the open doorway, pulling on his socks. “Though I do think a braid would be fun to try, sometime.”

Sirius takes only a moment to relish in this small triumph before he's frowning. “You are not wearing that to the party.”

Remus looks down at his faded green sweater. “It looks like I am. I don’t intend to shiver during the walk there.”

Sirius scoffs, and James, spotting a pot to stir, says, “I like you in that sweater, actually.”

Remus knows exactly what his boyfriend is doing, but he smirks anyway. “Thank you, Prongs. It’s like we’re his little projects, aren’t we? At least someone doesn’t want to change me.”

Everyone’s eyes find you, waiting to see what side you’ll pick. You burn under the spotlight. “I think you look great either way.” You shrug, but stop when Sirius hisses sharply, his grip tightening on your face.

Remus eyes you, something searching in his gaze that you don’t like. You can never hide a thought for long before he susses you out. But to your surprise, it’s Sirius who says, “You okay, sweet thing? You’re being even quieter than usual. You still want to go, yeah?”

“Yeah, I wanna go,” you say quickly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, finishing up with your eyeliner and stepping back to look at you. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You squirm, pinned like a butterfly beneath his gaze. “It’s nothing, it’s silly.”

A poor choice. Now you have everyone’s full attention.

“I’m sure it’s not silly.” James smiles at you encouragingly. “What is it?”

You start to pick at your nails, but Sirius' eyes narrow at them, and you stop. “I just…I’ve been thinking lately.”

A beat passes before Remus fills the silence. “That’s always a good thing,” he says slowly, amusedly. “C’mon, dove, out with it.”

This isn’t how you wanted this to go. You’re on the spot. It’s going to feel like a forced confession. They’re expecting something silly and light—I just don’t feel like my outfit is going to work for tonight—and you feel like you’re about to drop a bomb on them in comparison.

In the end, you give yourself away before you say the words. “Okay, I’m gonna tell you something, and I just need you to know I mean it, but I don’t need it to be…reciprocated.”

Sirius cocks his head at you, and you decide to burst the bubble of tension before it can expand any further.

“Just, I love you.”

And maybe you wanted it to be like when Sirius says it, like he’s thrown confetti and everyone seems brighter and happier for it, but each word falls heavily from your lips, landing at the feet of your boyfriends for them to decide what to do with. Why did you add in a “just”? There’s nothing just about this. It’s a humiliating attempt at downplaying the phrase, and painfully ineffective too. You feel like you could light yourself on fire with the intensity of your embarrassment.

"Argh, sweetheart,” James says after an impossibly long beat, “I wanted to say it first.”

“No fucking way.” Sirius whirls on him. “You were gonna say it and you didn’t tell me? I was waiting for one of you to do it first.”

“Dove,” Remus says, relaxing against the doorframe, “I think we’ve all been feeling the same way for some time. Thank you for having the confidence to say it first.”

You beam so hard your cheeks start to hurt almost instantly. “Yeah?”

“Color me impressed,” Sirius says. “This whole time you've played coy, but you’ve got more balls than any of the rest of us, haven’t you?” He pauses. “Wait, are you crying?”

“Oh, um, I guess so,” you reply when you touch a fingertip to your lower lashes and it comes away wet. “I’m just relieved, I guess. I was pretty nervous.”

Sirius grabs some toilet paper, pressing a wad under each of your eyes. “Well shit, don’t fuck up your eyeliner, baby. It was never that dire, not like anyone wasn’t going to say it back.”

“Well, I wasn’t going in with any expectations,” you mumble, holding your makeshift tissues.

“Sweetheart,” James whines, his bottom lip beginning to tremble sympathetically. “How could you think we wouldn't? I love you so much.”

“I love you so much,” you counter, laughing even as the paper under your eyes grows damp. “I’ve been wanting to say it forever. I feel so lucky to have you guys, you know?”

Remus crosses the room, forcing you to discard your toilet paper clumps as he takes your face in his hands, kissing your salty cheeks. “We’re lucky to have found you,” he says, and the words are even, sure. “I don’t say it often enough, but I love you all too. You’re everything to me.”

“Oh, fuck all of you,” Sirius says, blinking rapidly to save his own sparkly eyeliner. “Obviously you’re the best things that’ve ever happened to me. Pricks.”

Your laugh is wet, and you wonder if you’re peaking right now or if you’ll be this happy forever. With the three of them around you, you’re betting on the latter. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Think you could fix my makeup before we go, Siri? Please?”

He huffs, but the kiss he presses to your lips is syrupy sweet. “We are going to be well past fashionably late.”

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amjustagirl · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter 3

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f! reader

genre: romance, angst

wc: 3.6k

summary: you've loved soshiro since you were seven. he will always place his duty above you.

chapt 1 / chapt 2 / chapt 3 / chapt 4 / chapt 5

The fight with Number 12 is exhausting, but Hoshina Soshiro emerges victorious.

Not that he had any doubt (lies, what a fuckin’ lie, cos there was a point where he thought he’d drop dead from exhaustion, because Number 12 really was the new improved Number 10, who’d damn near run him into the ground), but other than the fact that he’d very much like to curl up in his bunk and sleep for the next week, he is pleased with himself.

He wonders a little about the choice of location of Number 12’s appearance. Chofu airport is outside of central Tokyo, mostly suburban other than the circle of industrial Izumo Tech buildings a few streets down which he’s too familiar with (you come to mind, but he dismisses that thought immediately), but evacuation efforts seemed relatively complete, so he doesn’t pay any of this a second thought.

Because, of course, Number 9 tries to get its dirty paws on Captain Mina Ashiro. And, as everyone knows, if Captain Mina Ashiro is absorbed by Number 9, so too with her would be the rest of Japan’s hopes of withstanding the kaiju threat.

Hoshina Soshiro therefore has no space in his mind to deal with anything but that.

By the end of the entire ordeal with Number 9, he can barely prop his eyelids up. He has reports to make, the casualties in his division to account for, troops to rally because the kaiju threat is never over, they’ll hit exactly when his back is turned. The Captain deserves a break with all that she’s gone through today, so it’s his time to step up and support her wherever he can.

Still, he sneaks a look at his phone.

He’s tempted to respond, but tells himself that he has no time to. It’s not that he’s avoiding you deliberately. Things have been hectic, and you wanted distance, hadn’t you, to give your friendship breathing space, let it recover from any awkwardness that lingers. It feels strange, being bereft of you these past few months. His fingers draft texts to you before his brain catches up to remind him that he needs to stay away from you. He wanders about the base on his days off, tracing an aimless circuit between his room, the gym and his desk, burying himself in paperwork and relentless training.

He tells himself this is how it should be. Duty never stops its call.

“Okonogi san, report on any casualties in the area.”

“Mostly clear”, she reports. “Most civilians managed to clear out with the help of the Japan Ground Self Defense Force.”

He closes his eyes in relief, though there’s still a prickling feeling of unease. “What about the Izumo Tech buildings?”

He recalls blowing right through some of the buildings in the compound, blasting through concrete, leaving nothing but rubble behind. Surely no one remained in those buildings.

“Mm”, Okonogi hesitates. “We can’t say for certain but rescue workers said they may have had some people trapped in the wreckage.’

It’s not his purview to concern himself with rescue efforts when his speciality is to fight and exterminate monsters. So he returns to base, doles out back slaps and hi fives to his officers, especially his baby ducklings, as he teasingly names his latest batch of recruits, swallows perfectly marbled beef courtesy of Izumo-kun, which reminds him -

“I may have knocked down some of your family’s buildings in a fight”, he jokes. “Send the bill to Number 12 instead of me though, a vice captain’s paycheck won’t cut it.”

Instead of laughing at his joke, Haruichi remains pensieve. “Last I heard, a couple of our employees were being dug out of those buildings”, he says somberly.

Soshiro forgets how to breathe.

“There were people in those buildings?” he demands.

“Not everyone left when the evacuation signal went off”, Haruichi replies. “Apparently some people got trapped in the weapon forge -”

His body reacts before Haruichi has a chance to finish. He doesn’t bother if he makes a scene by shooting to his feet, racing outside the mess hall to punch your number into his phone. “Pick up, damnit”, he snarls, pacing outside, pinching his nose bridge because his calls go unanswered, your phone isn’t even connected to the network -

Perhaps you just dropped your phone in the chaos. There’s no way you’re still stuck there. You should’ve been smart enough to run at the first sign of trouble -

“Vice Captain, do you want me to check -”

He blurts out your name. Bless Izumo Haruichi who springs into action without asking questions.

“Hey, nii-san - yeah, look, could you help me look into something?”

He’s probably overreacting. For all he knows, you’re warm and snug in your bed in your cramped apartment, not buried beneath tons of burnt concrete and twisted pillars. Now, in the valley of despair, he admits what he’s always known - he misses you dearly, has felt the loss of your easy friendship over the last few months, mourned the absence of your laughter and smiles.

It hurts enough to miss you. It’s unbearable to even consider he might never see you again.

“Yeah”, Haruichi says, face dropping. “Thanks for letting me know.”

His blood goes cold.

“They pulled her out of the wreckage a while ago. She’s undergoing surgery right now.”

For the first time in his life, he rails against his duty. He can’t leave his post, but the Captain orders him to go when she catches him harassing the hospital staff with endless calls throughout the night, asking only that he return before sunrise. It’s three quarters of an hour, maybe less if he floors the car he borrowed, weaving through kaiju decimated streets.

He’s listed as one of your emergency contacts, probably because the rest of your family’s hours away in Osaka, so the doctors fill him in on your condition, even though he’s not family.

Bones broken, by concrete crushing your body. Right side covered in burns, from a fire spread through the wreckage. Internal bleeding, probably a severe concussion, and they’re not sure your body will withstand the combined damage from all your injuries.

“Too soon to tell”, the doctors shake their heads. “We’ll keep you updated.”

Soshiro wants to punch the walls. Instead, he clenches his teeth. “Please do”, he replies tightly.

There is nothing he can do but go back to base and wait.

The hospital probably would put him on a blacklist if it weren’t the aftermath of a national emergency considering the way he bombards them every morning and night with calls to check on your status. You go through skin grafts for your burns, and he promptly loses his mind with worry when they tell him you’re on severe antibiotics to fight off the infections. Two nights ago, the doctors called him to say that they’re wheeling you back into surgery, having detected the source of bleeding in your stomach, and after another long sleepless night, all they can tell him is that they hope your condition should stabilise eventually.

He’s on the verge of raising his voice to tell them to shove their half baked updates up their ass, when he remembers it’s not their fault you’re lying unmoving and broken in a narrow hospital bed.

(it’s his)

(he did this to you)

When they finally give him the okay to visit, he rushes to your side late at night with leave from the Captain, who merely reminds him not to break the speed limit. It’s past visiting hours but the nurses know better than to get in his way as he throws open the door to your room.

You’re hooked up to machines which pump your lungs full of air, bruised and puffy and wholly unrecognisable under bone white bandages that wrap around most of your right side. You’re so still and unmoving that - if not for the beep of the machine registering your heart beat -

He’s not going to finish that train of thought. He’s not.

“Hey”, he breathes. He doesn’t dare touch you, lest you shatter.

He stays by your bedside the entire night, slouched in one of those uncomfortable hospital chairs. “My week’s been awful”, he tells her. “It’s been hell trying to cobble together reports about what happened in the fight with Number 12. Plus, we have to rebuild our division and our base, so everyone’s running on fumes.”

He talks and talks until the sun rises, and he gets up to go.

“Don’t sleep for too long”, he says, and adds softly. “Stay safe, please.”

The next day off he has, he returns, a large bouquet of flowers in tow. Your parents are there, finally able to make the trek from Osaka, almost impossible after the shinkansen schedules were disrupted and the highways unpassable. But they’re here, and though they look at him in askance, they quietly thank him for looking after you.

He wonders what they’ll say if they find out it was him who buried you deep in the ground. He’s too much of a coward to confess this to them when you might not wake up to see them again.

He can’t quite put his finger on why, but he’s always been sure your mother dislikes him. Her smile, when directed at him, is too tight. She insists on you addressing him as the “young master” instead of his given name, which he prefers, and now, she laments the fact that it’s him who’s come to visit you instead of ‘that lovely Yamamoto-kun who sent those nice flowers’, when the door closes behind him.

It’s a little petty, but he sends an even bigger bouquet of blooms a few days later, making sure to sign his name on an exceptionally large gift card.

More information comes in on his fight with Number 12. He flips immediately to the section on civilian casualties, of which there are thankfully fewer than expected, though there’s a brief section on employees trapped in the Izumo Tech compound, of particular note because of its national security significance, though it states that several weapons technicians managed to retrieve a substantial amount of tech (specifically, blades) before the building came down on them.

His stomach turns. He has to dash to the toilet, the taste of vomit burning acid in his mouth.

The recruits all mutter why Vice Captain Hoshina’s in such a foul mood, forcing them to run laps for the most minor of infractions during training. He’s rude to the doctors when he calls them at night, claiming they still can’t be certain if you’re going to pull through, and even if you do, they also can’t say for sure that you’ll ever open your eyes again.

Unable to sleep, he takes his frustration out on the training room.

“Vice Captain.”

He snaps into a salute. “At ease, it’s after hours”, Mina Ashiro takes a seat beside him. “Staying up late to train?”

“Yes, ma’am”, he replies. It’s the only thing that keeps his mind clear from worries. His sleep is marred by nightmares, his body unable to relax, anticipating the call from the hospital that he fears will inevitably come.

“You were just doing your job”, she tells him.

Despite the dark cloud he’s found himself trapped in this past week, his lips can’t help but quirk up at his Captain knowing exactly what’s on his mind. “I know”, he replies simply. “Still.”

“Strictly off the record”, Mina says. “I’d behave exactly like you if it were Kafka in that hospital bed.”

“Pretty sure it’ll take a nuclear bomb to take out Hibino-san but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Hmm”, Mina hums. She’s a woman of few words, so it’s rare that she seeks him out for a conversation on anything that isn’t work related. “Do you ever wonder if we’re too focused on our jobs?”

“With due respect, Captain”, he replies. “That’s probably how we’ve managed to stay alive.”

“Yes”, she says, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “But sometimes I think we forget what we do this all for.”

“And if I may be so bold”, he ventures. “What do you do this all for?”

“When I was eight, a kaiju attacked my hometown. It wasn’t very large, now in hindsight, but it was large enough to destroy my childhood home, horrible enough to kill my cat.”

“So you resolved to grow up and be the best sniper the Defense Force had ever seen.”

Mina chuckles. “I don’t think my eight year old self even knew how to be so ambitious.” Her expression sobers. “No, I just never wanted to see my parents cry again.”

“It seems you’ve achieved your goal.”

“Have I?” she asks, pulling at her hair absentmindedly. “I haven’t been back to visit my parents in years. I didn’t even keep in touch with Kafka despite us being close friends who grew up together. Yes, maybe in the grand scheme of things, I’ve kept the wider public safe - but that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve lost years of friendship, I’ve lost time I could’ve spent with the people I love.”

“And you’re saying I’m the same?”

Mina’s smile is serene. “It’s for you to decide that.”

She lets him ponder on her words in solitude, closing the door to the training room behind her.

He still remembers the day he met you.

You’re hiding behind a pillar, dressed in your kimono the same shade of blue as the hydrangeas that bloom in June. The presence of someone his age watching him spar spurs him on, makes him want to show off everything he’s got and give Sochiro a good fight. He’s convinced that the fight pushed Sochiro hard enough to grab you as a distraction from the fact that he’s actually being challenged by his younger brother.

He doesn’t care if Sochiro’s bullying ways are directed at him. But when he makes you cry, he intervenes without thinking, even though it results in being beaten black and blue.

But you look at him with stars in your eyes. “You’re amazing”, you tell him. For the first time in his life, Soshiro Hoshina believes that he is strong.

It’s a cliche, but it’s easier to bear his older brother’s bullying and teasing if you’re there to spur him on with your cheerful words. You’ve always been in his corner, always happy to make a fuss over him, ooh and aah over every new move he learns, making him feel seen when everyone else’s attention is always focused on Sochiro, his more brilliant, gifted older brother

(to be seen is to be loved)

You’ve supported him through every rainy day, every snowy day, every day of his life since his childhood, making it your life goal to craft the swords he wields. “I’ll make the sharpest blade so you can go be the best swordsman in the world!” you promised him, and so you have. You took up your family’s craft despite being but a slip of a girl, spending hours in the choking heat to learn a dying craft. You worked with an unerring focus in school, first to get into the country’s top engineering course, then graduating with flying colours to land a job at Izumo Tech, spending years subsisting on cup noodles and energy drinks.

He’s never once even considered the toll it must’ve taken on you, the sacrifice of any semblance of a social life, the sacrifice of leaving Osaka, the comfortable cocoon of your family and friends to follow him to Tokyo. He’s ashamed to admit that he never gave any of this any thought, never really considered what it was like for you, only taking what you were too happy to give, your attention, your time. Every choice you’ve made, you’ve only made for him.

And how has he repaid you?

By running away when you admitted to feeling more than friendship for him. He convinced himself at the time with the excuse that he’s too busy, he really has no space in his life for anything but work and the art of the sword. It is all he’s lived and breathed for his entire life.

But now -

Now that he’s on the cusp of losing you, he thinks about the sun in your smile, the steel in your spine. He thinks about how much he admires your work ethic, your talent, your warmth and kindness. He remembers how much your friendship chased away the shadows of his self doubts, how you helped shoulder the burdens of chasing his dreams.

Every rest day he gets to spend off-base, he chooses to spend it with you. Either at a cafe, which you always let him pick, allowing him to satisfy the cravings of his sweet tooth, or in the cramped apartment you call home, indulging in a fizzy can of beer as he talks your ear off about everything and nothing at once. With you, he can be Soshiro Hoshina without pretence, because there’s nothing about him that you haven’t seen.

He’d ignored that twinge in his chest when you asked about getting yourself a boyfriend, fighting the urge to blurt out that he doesn’t think there’s a guy out there good enough to deserve you. So much so that he buries his relief when you admit that you’re not actually dating anyone by flippantly downplaying how much you mean to him, giving you instead the impression that you’re only worth as much as your usefulness to him.

No wonder you’d been avoiding him. He didn’t even give you a chance to lick your wounds in private, cornering you, pressing you until you reveal your feelings for him. He’s so thrown by your confession that he reacts by running and hiding, doesn’t spend the time to unpack how he truly feels, doesn’t spare a thought for how you might feel, having your feelings thrown in your face so cruelly.

How had he been this stupid?

Worse yet, it’s his fault you’re fighting for your life in a narrow hospital bed. Collateral damage is unfortunately part and parcel of kaiju extermination, he knows that, but he was having fun swinging his sword, never thinking that he might be the cause of you never opening your eyes again.

Fuck.

He doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t deserve the chance to look you in the eye, never mind stand by your side.

Your mother makes that clear the next time their paths cross that she’s of the same view. She’s stiffly polite, as if too painfully reminded that she has to be cordial to the second son of her husband’s longtime business associate, but after she pointedly asks him to shift his flowers to the side to make room for Yamamoto-san’s potted monstrosity, he goes in with a direct attack.

“You don’t seem to like me very much.”

To her credit, she doesn’t try to lie. “I care for my daughter”, she replies.

“So do I”, he retorts without pause. Because he does, even if he’s stupid enough to realise it a decade too late.

“Hm”, she grunts, her doubt clear.

“Since I was eight and she was seven”, he says, the words awkward in his mouth because it’s strange to admit how he feels about you to your mother who clearly disapproves of him, but it’s also a relief to put it to words. “I think I’ve always cared.”

“I don’t think she knows that”, your mother says, the gentlest he’s ever heard her.

“If she wakes up - ”, he corrects himself immediately, “when she wakes up -”, but even then his voice falters, because it’s been so long that you’ve been still and unmoving in this bed, swaddled in hospital sheets that too closely resemble a shroud.

By the gods, what if it’s too late -

“When she wakes up”, your mother says without a tremble of uncertainty in her voice, “you should tell her that yourself.”

He wishes he had an ounce of your mother’s unwavering faith in fate, because weeks later, your room remains colourless, white and sterile. He places yet another bouquet by your bedside, an array of blue and purple hydrangeas, the last of this year’s summer.

“Wake up”, he tells you. “Last chance for us to catch the fireworks festivals and eat shaved ice. I won’t have to steal your ice cream if we go.”

You don’t move.

“Your brother’s wedding’s been postponed because everyone’s waiting for you. Better get up soon, cos’ no one wants to get married in the winter.”

The room remains silent.

The linoleum of the floor is so beige it makes him want to stomp a hole right through it, make it a little less bland and unappealing. He can’t bring himself to nod at the terrified nurse who squeaks at him to leave the room when it’s time to change your dressing. He’s not known to be emotional, but grief claws up his sternum, longing has his throat in a chokehold.

“When you wake up, I’ve got a question to ask you. Don’t you wanna wake up to find out what it is?”

He doesn’t know why he expects a response.

“Stay safe.” A quiet sigh. Seeya soon.”

It’s almost dawn by the time he pulls into the base.

Rain drums on the roof of the car, the morning a greyish, cloudy blue. He pulls on his combat jacket, the skin at the back of his neck prickling into goosebumps. His phone rings just as he gets out of the seat, thumb swipes right promptly when he sees the hospital’s number light up the screen.

“Vice Captain Hoshina speaking.”

“S-sir”, it must be that nervous nurse from earlier in the night. “You asked us to call if there’s any change in the patient’s condition -”

The beat of his heart grows thunderous in his ears.

“Yes?”

a/n: *dum dum dummmmm* another cliffhanger!!!

#hoshina soshiro x reader #hoshina x reader #kaiju 8 #hoshina soshiro #hoshina soushirou

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tears0fsatan · 6 months ago

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☆ 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... mentions m!reader a few times but can be read as gn for the most part lol, implied romantic/queerplatonic relationship but interpret it as you like, its pretty soft man idk what to say

:¨·.·¨ ♥︎ a.n... need more dateables content on my blog sigh>.<)) i began this all the way last year in april.... (∩﹏∩) i am slowly clearing out my drafts and reqs okay!!!! (i hope the halloween special final will be out before this years halloween...)

DIAVOLO !

now, we all know he's a bit ... behind on things outside of ruling an entire realm so he most definitely had to ask barbatos and lucifer for suggestions.

he was taking you all these fancy, bougie places with a clear itinerary in mind (thanks to the influence of a certain avatar of pride) that at the end of the day felt more like a tour of devildom than a date.

on the last of his planned out date, it ended up raining and the two of you somehow spent the last couple of hours talking to each other underneath the shade of a tree where you found out that all the dates were thanks to diavolo's right hand men.

after that talk you finally convinced him to take you places that were dear to him and to allow you to plan future dates as well.

he insists on paying, regardless of how much you protest and tell him that you also have pride as a man (it's just something you have to deal with sorry).

take him on a date in the human realm and watch as this scary ruler of all demons turns into a big baby, fascinated with everything (now its your turn to play tour guide).

if you get him one of those cheap, silly little keychains you find in gift stores, he'd treasure it for as long as he lives.

if you get anything matching (be it a shirt, keychains, plushies, you name it), he'll have the biggest sparkling eyes you've ever seen on a living being and beg you to wear it for the rest of your time in the human realm.

his favourite dates are the ones where you and him simply enjoy a cup of tea and snacks barbatos prepared in the castles garden glass gazebo (its domestic and he likes seeing you in his 'domain' so to say).

BARBATOS !

picnics. with your favourite snacks he's prepared from as early as the night before.

appreciates every moment alone with you especially since it's rare for the two of you to be together without the others around.

he always goes for something he knows you'll like, and if you don't enjoy a particular part of the date he'll keep it in mind.

the most important part of the date to him is seeing you happy and being in your company.

thought there would never come a time where he would be peeved by diavolo calling for him until one day the demon lord forgot about his date with you and wondered where he went.

after that diavolo encouraged barbatos to go out with you more often (would not take no for an answer no matter how much barbatos tried to turn him down).

he'd be a bit hesitant to go to the human realm since he'd be so far away from diavolo but the thought of being alone with you is just so tempting (he's a demon after all) he can't decline.

if you bought him a little plush keychain TRUST it would be posed carefully in the kitchen where he can see it every day while he prepares the de facto demon kings meals.

he would take you to the most unknown and hidden spots in devildom that even diavolo wouldn't know of their existence and turn it into a frequent rendezvous spot (and perhaps it excites a small part of you, perhaps because it's more or less a secret that only you and barbatos share).

SIMEON !

simple minded. likes going anywhere with you.

gotta say though, he especially likes the way your eyes crinkle when you smile after tasting a homemade sweet treat.

doesn't have an ideal date with you but dates where you two bake together are his favourite.

also note. he will tear up if you turn the tables on him and prepare him some treats of your own specialty (his only smiles wider when he hears you grumble about being as much of a househusband as he is).

even if you make something that could rival solomon's cooking, he'd still eat it with a smile (because you made it all for him and he would be a fool to pass it up).

if you guys go out for a stroll in any of the three realms, he'd always have his hand on you (fingers intertwined with yours, arm coiled around your waist and such).

he'll find some small treasure from the date and keep it tucked away somewhere.

loves taking pictures with a polaroid so he can treasure the memories (he especially loves taking candid pictures of you, especially while eating one of his sweets of course).

be prepared to gain weight if he takes you up to the celestial realm, he will make sure you eat every single angelic dish until you couldn't do so much as waddle around.

likes taking you around the celestial realm and telling you all the stories of his past and some passed down stories from other older angels.

while passing through the many gardens of the celestial realm, he'll sneakily pluck a flower or two for you until you end up with nothing less than a small bouquet (and more often than not getting a rather lengthy scolding from michael).

SOLOMON !

you know that UR card of him where he takes you on a magic carpet ride??? yeah expect that sort of shit constantly.

he is so fond of you and your reactions and that just makes him wanna toy around with you all the more.

he's not ashamed to cause a ruckus in all three realms as long as he can see you either laugh until tears gather in the corner of your eyes or cling onto him while half heartedly yelling at him, he's willing to pull out all his little tricks up his sleeve.

he is such a menace but you can tell he puts a lot of thought and care into his surprises, you can't find it in yourself to be upset with him (and truth be told you do enjoy the rise he brings out of you).

during a rare moment of vulnerability, he'd take you around his hometown and reminisce his youth, telling tales of ancient memories that only he would remember (noting the way his eyes shone with an emotion you couldn't quite pinpoint).

never one to dwell in his nostalgia for long, he would take you to another spot and spin some hauntingly believable ghost story just to scare you (whether you believe it or not, solomon will most definitely try to sneak in a few spooks here and there especially with magic).

after he would torment you and every other living being in his vicinity, he'd like to end the day by doing something comparatively calmer and laid back, perhaps something as simple as cuddles, reading together (or maybe even him reading to you), or watching a movie.

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scarletwinterxx · 1 year ago

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got me confused, got me satisfied - jaehyun imagine

hellooooo. currently on my jaehyun brain rot era😶😶‍🌫️ this is the bit different from what i usually write... hope you like it😅

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

: a bit suggestive, fluff, whipped jaehyun

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"What do you give a man who has everything?"

"For Jaehyun? Damn girl, i don't know. What about a good dicking down" Joy says nonchanlantly like you're not having brunch at the moment.

"Sounds tempting" you mumble

"Your presence is a present enough, if he don't want that then I know a list of guys ready to take his place"

You chuckle at your friends words, "I like him though, I like his face, I like his hugs, I like that he likes me"

"You like all of him, it's not so bad too that his secret dream is to be a sugardaddy. Specifically yours"

"That doesn't make me a sugarbaby... does it?" you look over at her

"Girl, you are the definition of a sugarbaby, the lavish dates, the expensive gifts, out of town trips on his private yatch? what would you call that then?" Joy asks back

That got you quiet. Thinking about what you would call your relationship with Jaehyun.

You don't like being confused, it frustrates you. He frustrates you but there's no other man you would run to but him. No man can make you think like him. Here you are slowly losing your mind over finding a simple gift for him.

Smirking as an idea pop in your mind, "I think I got it" you mumble. Getting your bag to go the the mall and get what you need

"Where are you going?!" Joy shouts

"I'm going to make a man cry tonight, see you at the party" you shout back as you walk across the street, Joy just chuckles after you. Whatever it was you had planned, Jaehyun is definitely in for a surprise.

A few swipes of your card, and a couple of hours getting ready you finally make your way to the party. It was already packed by the time you got there, some faces you recognize but more you've never met before. Probably just here to have a good time.

You easily spot Joy amongst the crowd, happily belting out the song with a very drunk looking Jungwoo.

"You're hereeeee" she squeals when she spots you, pulling you by the arm and making you do a quick spin. Your little black dress and the cute matching black ribbon on your hair,

"You look hot babe! Is this Jaehyun's gift tonight?" she teases you, pulling playfully on the ribbon. She's not far off if you're being honest. Shrugging at her question teasingly, you excuse yourself to find the man of the hour.

He wasn't on the dance floor, in the main room or outside. You do find Yuta while you trying to find Jaehyun.

"Here for the birthday boy?" he asks, a beer in hand

"Yep, have you seen him?"

"He's been sulking all night, Joy and Jungwoo kept saying you weren't coming cause you were out on a date" he laughs

"They're evil, it's his birthday" you joke, laughing along with him.

"Go find your boyfriend before he finds you here, don't forget to use protection this house isn't baby proofed!" he shouts, earning a few glances but you pay no attention to them. Making your way back inside the house, you finally see the familiar tuff of dark hair, fair skin and those arms you loved having wrapped around you.

Confidently making your way over to him, he's still looking at the other side of the room where the door was. Like he was waiting for someone to walk through at any moment,

"Waiting for someone?" you ask, catching his attention

He turns his head so fast, you let out a giggle. At that moment Jaehyun didn't care if he looked like he cared too much. He didn't care if his friends were teasing him all night saying shit like you went out on a date and found someone better.

Who the fuck is better. He thought to himself earlier.

This arrangement he has with you is definitely a confusing one, but for you he'd ignore all the warning signs. Heck you could've been the biggest red flag and he'd still happily chase after you like a mad bull.

It's not like you're leading him on, he knows you like him. And he likes you. The two of you like the way you are right now, not exactly boyfriend and girlfriend but you do all the things that comes with being in a relationship. From the cute nicknames, to him driving you anywhere and everywhere, even having weekly movie nights in his room or yours (depends if all the guys are home). No man knows your body the way he does. And if he's completely honest, he would like to keep it that way.

In a way the two of you are lowkey, but nothing about the way you scream his name some nights says lowkey AT ALL.

You catch the way his face lights up, fighting the smile instead showing you a smirk. But you know him enough, he's happy you're here. You're happy you're here.

His eyes rakes over your body, head to toe. He tucks a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, "You look cute" he tells you, noting your wearing that damn ribbon he loves seeing on you. It makes you look innocent but he knows you well enough.

"Happy birthday" you tell him, throwing your arms around his neck to intertwine them. Dragging your nose along his jaw, kissing the shell of his ear knowing exactly what it'll do to him.

You smile when you pull back and see his ears turning red. A rather unimpressed look on his face, you want nothing but to kiss him but you hold back. For now.

"Thought you weren't going to make it" He tries to act nonchalant but his body was on autopilot. His arms are already around your waist, pulling you so close leaving no space between your bodies. If it was up to him, there's still too many places he's not close enough.

For example he wanted to just bury his face on your neck and mark you up for the world to see, let them wonder just who did that to you. He wanted to have your legs wrapped around him, like vice grips every time he pleases you.

"And you look like you're thinking about something else" you tease him, "I got you something" you add

"Told you, you didn't have to get me anything" he mumbles but you just shake your head at him

"Shhh, just this once let me buy you something. Tomorrow you can go back to living your dream of being my sugardaddy"

"Call me that again, I'm carrying you out of this kitchen and go upstairs" he tells you, leaning closer to you until your lips were centimeters away.

"Okay, daddy" you smirk, feeling his arms tighten around you before he lets you go. Confusion written across your face before you see him crouching down, feeling his hands behind your knees he throws you over his shoulder as gently as he could. One hand on your legs holding you while the other hand rest right were your dress stops.

"Hey! You guys! Come back here, we're doing shots" you hear Jungwoo scream but Jaehyun paid him no mind. It's like he's a man on a mission. Mission to ruin you.

He walks down the familiar hallway until he reaches the last door, punching in the code before walking inside. He doesn't let you down, again gently throwing you on his bed.

You laugh, like literally laugh out loud. Jaehyun watches you carefully, waiting for you to say something. He knows you know exactly how to rile him up.

"Now that I got you here, time for your present" you tell him, standing up to get a small paper bag on his table. You probably put it there before finding him downstairs earlier.

"Was this your masterplan?" he asks you

"Kinda, I have a few more lines to use but either way they will all end up with us locked here in your room" you giggle, how can you sound so angelic yet so devilish he will never understand.

"Here, even if you don't like it just pretend you do. For me" you tell him jokingly, taking the bag from you he opens it up to see a box. Inside it was a simple chain necklace. Anything from you is a prized possession to him.

That mug you made him on your second date? his favorite to have his coffee in the morning.

That tshirt you bought him because it had peaches all over it? his favorite shirt to wear at home.

That candle you bought for him to use in his room? still sitting on his bedside table, lighting it whenever you're over or when he misses you.

"Your style right?"

"You saw me looking at this when we went to the mall, was that why you told me not to buy it?" he asks, taking it out of the box to put it on. You watch happily as he finishes putting it on.

And god damn you were right, he looked good wearing it.

If taking gifts makes you this happy maybe, just maybe, he'll let you shop for him more. But in this relationship, he likes spending more on you. From dinners to quick coffee runs to shopping sprees, he's always the one to swipe his black card. He's so damn hot while doing it, you thought.

"Just imagined that hanging over my face, I had to buy it" He chuckles at your reasoning. You saying that so casually as if it was a very normal scenario.

"Is this a gift for me or for you?" he raises a brow at you, he does love the gift. He loves it even more now knowing why you bought it. He already know how this night will end up, making mental note to make that imagination of yours into reality.

"Well that's first part of your gift, close your eyes"

You wait for him to do so, guiding him to sit on his bed. He hears some rustling, tempted to take a peak but he knows you'll scold him.

After a few moment he feels your hands holding his arms, guiding him to stand again. "Keep them closed until I tell you to open okay, I'm serious Jae"

He chuckles when he hears the nickname, it always sounds so cute when it comes from you.

"Okay now open" you tell him.

And when he did, his jaw nearly dropped on the floor. Cute is not the word to describe you right now. Divine, heavenly maybe because he's about to take all his time to worship you.

He should've known there was a reason you wore that damn ribbon. He loved seeing you with it, he knows you know he loves it.

And now here you are, on his bed with nothing but that black silk ribbon in your hair. He will never look at it the same again, he might just end up with a boner everytime he sees you with it.

"You don't like your gift?" tilting your head to the side, hooking your foot around his leg to pull him closer.

"Goddamit, woman. Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?" he breathes out, leaning down so he's face to face with you. Your arms automatically going around him, he can feel you warmth against him.

Is it because he's still all dressed up that why the room just got hotter or because the girl of his dream and reality is lying naked underneath him?

The latter. Definitely the latter.

"Satisfied with your second gift?" you ask him, leaving a trail of kisses from him jaw down his neck then back up until your noses were touching.

"If you wanted this damn necklace hanging over you that much, all you had to do was ask" he teases you, you can feel his hand on your body. It feels like he's leaving a trail of fire with the way your body is burning.

"This is a bad idea, now every time I see you with that necklace I'm afraid I'm going to jump you" he chuckles, finally leaning further down to capture your lips with his. Getting lost in each others kisses, at first you tried to fight for some control but Jaehyun is never one to back down. Not when it comes to you.

That got you giving up, like you always do, letting him explore all there is to explore. It wasn't new to you or him, but his kisses still felt like a man chasing after air.

When the two of you broke apart, you can see already how swollen his lips are. And the two of you haven't even started yet.

"You know what's a worse idea? that ribbon. Now everytime I see you wearing that, this is exactly where you'll end up"

You chuckle, pulling him down for another heated kiss, "Then plan succeeded"

#nct #story #tags #fic #nct fic #nct fluff #nct smut #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct au #nct jaehyun #jaehyun au #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun smut #jaehyun oneshot #jaehyun imagine

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maoam · 1 month ago

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Just a reminder but the infamous "kishi is japanese so he can't know or write about homosexuality" sasuke stan we all know isn't white, so it's pointless to blame white people (I have seen this in the tags) about the mentality that homosexuality is some capitalist post-modern western disease or whatever some people call it. I think it's also avoiding responsibility.

This notion is actually pretty common in some places, I have seen couple documentaries where muslim men say the west is degenerate because of feminism and homosexuality lol. When that Netflix Alexander the Great flick came out and it had *gasp* gayness in it, I saw black and arab men on twitter commenting stuff like "lol white men have always been f*ggots". When two male lions were spotted having gay sex in Kenya, a Kenyan official insisted they needed to be separated and insisted that they must had been seeing western gay men having sex and "learned" from them. 💀

I know it's tempting to consider one's own race to be clean from bigotry but it's not the reality at all lol. Homosexuality has always been a controversial topic everywhere, sometimes illegal and even during times when it was legal it was very much preferred that they also get married and have kids, and often times it was only okay when one was young, or in very specific circumstances. A lot of these "x place was super gay friendly back then" articles are also misinformed, and naturally they only focus on male homosexuality because no one cared about lesbians, women were expected to give birth and take care of kids even in those supposedly super gay friendly places, period.

I'd say it's pretty obvious the main reasons homosexuality has been seen as a threat are (there are probably more):

Gay sex can't be used for breeding

Men see sex as something degrading they do to women, and thus the idea of a man doing this to another man is repulsive (or funny, even a lot of openminded men find gay "funny" and you can think to yourself why)

Women who don't have sex with, date or marry men are threat to patriarchy

#personal ramblings

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the-dixon-effect · 1 year ago

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Just a Girl

requested by: @dixonsgirl93 which you can find here -> masterlist

A/N: thank you so much for the request my love!! i love this concept so much that it had me up at 4am writing it after recovering from a long-haul flight, so so sorry that this took so long for a little drabble xx

It was too tempting.

Not after years of stumbling around in dirty rags and a single pair of worn combat boots. Not after fighting for your life every single day, were you going to pass this up. Today, you were safe. And right in front of you, in this completely empty mall, were a pair of pristine black stilettos.

You held one in each hand as you admired them, a treasure of a world lost in time. You felt like a different person just clutching them.

"Hey, Maggie!" you are unable to control the wide smile cast across your lips. "Look what I found!" the girl glanced in your direction from the entrance of the store, scoffing at your excitement.

"Whatcha gonna do with those?" she asked, chuckling, as she jogged up to the display table coated in a thick layer of dust.

"I don't know. Walk around. Dance. Put 'em on a table and forbid anyone from touching them," you said quietly, smiling as you palmed at the crisp black leather. "They could be a symbol. Y'know, Lord of the Flies style," you joked, meeting the farmgirl's eyes. Strangely enough, the ghost of a boutique was relatively empty apart from these shoes, a few scraps of useless clothes scattered around and many plastic hangers adorning the white-tiled floor.

"Alright, fine. But ya' have to bring that little black dress back, too," she teased, in that familiar Southern drawl. Pointing to a rack of clothes on the other side of the store, you spotted a lone black dress threatening to fall off the flimsy hanger. It was no surprise that when the remaining survivors came through these parts, rummaging through stores and kitchens and bunkers, a pair of high heels and a mini dress didn't make the cut for the survivalist supply list. It had been a couple years by now, and indeed no one back at the prison would care if you indulged in a bit of fun. Besides, you're just a girl. And a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do to get by.

Most evenings were spent in the foyer swapping stories and enjoying the ever-expanding group's company, now that everyone was feeling more comfortable in the prison. Daryl was perched on the second step of the cool, steel staircase fletching some bolts for his crossbow, after the fairly uneventful run earlier. One thought did linger in his mind, however - as he tuned out to the rest of the conversations engaging in his midst. You had briefly shown him what you managed to pick up back at the abandoned mall, some scraps of food, some comics for Carl, and... what could only be described as an image from one of his wildest dreams. Or worst nightmares. What the hell would he do with himself if you suddenly appeared in that dress? And those heels? Probably run, and hide someplace where nobody would notice his reaction. And just when he was imagining what you would look like in that outfit from earlier, he heard a voice call out from upstairs.

"Hershel! You better believe these things are harder to walk in than a peg leg!"

The foyer erupted in chuckles as conversations ceased while everybody looked up at you on the balcony, held up firmly by Maggie who couldn't control her laughter either.

"Come on down, Y/N. Betcha can't do it!" the grey-haired man exclaimed as the rest of the group watched you stumble to the top of the staircase.

Oh God. She's so popular. And beautiful - were the thoughts swirling around in Daryl's head as he turned a swift 180 and looked up at your perfect figure. You looked so pretty when you laughed like that; a face that lit up the room - lit up this rotten world - when the sweet sound that even a siren couldn't mimic echoed over the walls of the dismal building. And that outfit; the smooth black dress that clung to your thighs so perfectly with a neckline that revealed just enough to make him go insane. Those heels. Daryl always had a thing for girls with nice legs, but he was always too embarrassed to mention it. It may have slipped out in front of his older brother once upon a time, and for the years to come he never shut up about it. Humiliating Daryl whenever a gorgeous girl like you walked past. Daryl never denied it, though, that you and that perfect body of yours were gonna be the death of him someday. And that felt like right now.

"Maggie, don't you dare let that girl fall!" Michonne shouted, laughing as she kicked her feet up on the cafeteria table and leaned back.

"Daryl, I swear to God, if you don't catch me I'll kill you," you began, addressing the archer that was gawking up at you, the one slightly obstructing your wobbly path down the staircase. Everybody in that cell block watched the poor man snap out of his daydreams as he shot up and grabbed your hand as your knees threatened to buckle beneath you. Maggie let go of her tight grip on your shoulders and erupted into giggles, as though she were playing Cupid.

"Thank you, Daryl," you said sweetly, not realising that Daryl is physically suffocating as you clutched Daryl's calloused palm. You took the opportunity to steady yourself on both feet and do a little twirl, lifting Daryl's arm up over your head as you spun around as gracefully as you could manage. A couple of cheers escaped from your audience, making you smile deeply. You hadn't felt this pretty in a long time.

"Whatcha doin' playin' dress-up anyway?" Daryl drawled, quietly.

"Well, I'm just a girl."

taglist: @alldevilsarehere90 @poisonmenegan @radcollectivesoul @emilykolchivans @pinchoftheoutsiders guys the taglist is looking a little lonely!!

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dullgecko · 1 month ago

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Ok, since you said this is how we play I'll try It, how does Riz react when he learns he's Friends are alive? I guess he feels relive, that means he hasn't got them kill but at the same time why haven't they revivem him?

Yeah baby! Play the game get a prize (the prize is more words)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

There was something to be said about being dead, Riz certainly didn’t feel himself getting tired anymore beyond the general brain fatigue of reading through records for hours on end. Bytopia almost rivalled the nine hells when it came to bureaucracy but the rogue considered himself an expert after helping Fig claim ownership of the bottomless pit. A little angelic paperwork wasn’t going to stop him even if he felt like he was going a cross-eyed from reading through rulebooks and forms.

Once Pok had shown him to the record room, a vast almost endless plain of bookshelves that stretched to the horizon hidden behind an unassuming door in the fields of Elysium, he’d been called away to deal with a problem for the LPRTF. Riz getting left behind to find the information he needed with only what little guidance his father could give him in the few seconds he had spare before sprinting out of the room.

This was fine. Riz was his party’s research guy. If there was something here to find he would find it that was guaranteed. First and foremost? Making sure his party was okay. It took him a couple of hours to track down everyone’s files, the goblin feeling relieved when he checked and found that each of them was still okay and alive in turn. Each of their records was a detailed account of their entire lives, the pages in the ‘future’ were written but even looking at them made his head spin and he couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He absently wondered if maybe Adaine would be able to see what was written there given she was the oracle, but the better question would be whether she wanted to read it.

He didn’t want to violate his friend’s privacy too badly though, even though he was very tempted to take a quick peek at their childhoods, only quickly checking their status was listed as ‘alive’ on their files before placing them back where he found them. Checking his own records should be fine though right?

Finding his own records was a lot harder, mostly because they were stored separately from those still on the Prime Material, and when he found it it was almost triple the size of his friends. Reams of paperwork regarding his employment with the LPRTF enclosed between the covers of the folder making it much thicker. He carefully started pulling out and reading through the bundles of paperwork, mostly just curious if there was any information that could be gleaned there but his brows ended up knitting together in confusion. The goblin tucking the folder under his arm as he went to find a reference book to double check everything was filed correctly because he had a niggling feeling still that something was off about his current life-status.

-0-0-0-0-0-

Time, when you’re dead, can get a little bit weird. You don’t need to sleep or eat (even though you can if you really want to) so the normal methods Riz tended to use to track the progression of time were completely absent. Because of this it had been nearly five days after entering that he finally stumbled back out of the records room, clutching his own file and a reference book in one hand and a slightly crumpled wad of paperwork in the other, and at least three files with his tail. The goblin looking a mix between completely and totally manic and gleeful as he stumbled over to the nearest agents desk and slammed the paperwork down in front of them.

“I should NOT be dead. Where’s Agent Gukgak?”

“He is, um, out? Some trouble in the Nine Hells.” The gnoll who’s desk he’d slammed the paperwork onto looked surprised, hyena ears flicking as they glanced between the face of the slightly unhinged looking goblin and the paperwork pinned under his hand.

“Oh okay, cool, never mind I’ll just talk to you then. I shouldn’t be dead.”

“You said… but I’m going to assume you’re going to explain why?”

They knew this was Pok’s kid, everyone in the LPRTF knew who he was and when word came in that he’d ascended at only seventeen they’d felt awful for him. Their wonderfully talented part time lower planar consultant suddenly promoted to full-time agent before he was even legally an adult? Incredibly sad, but there was little they could do about it other than help him through the first few stages of realising your ticket had been punched permanently. He looked WELL and truly into the denial phase right now.

“Yes. Okay, look. I found my file and all my employment paperwork and stuff.” Riz juggled his armful of papers, dumping them onto a clear spot on the gnoll agents desk and flipping open the reference book to the pages he’d marked. “You guys had permission to fast track me to ascended soul when I died and lock in my employment. This form.”

“Sure did honey, didn’t want you having to spend weeks in limbo while we processed everything so it was pre-filled for you.”

“Cool, alright, you know what I’m talking about then.” He shuffled through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. “It’s filled in WRONG. You’ve got it listed as ‘on the event of my death’.”

“Yes dear.”

“No you don’t get it. It’s been filed as ‘on the event of my next death’ not ‘permanent death’. They filled in this bit of paperwork wrong. I’m an adventurer we die all the time but our cleric usually brings us back.” He jabbed at the page, juggling another file onto her desk from the stack he was holding with his tail. “This is my friend Kristens file, she’s my party cleric, she tried to resurrect me within fifteen seconds of my dying but you guys had already locked me in to becoming an ascended soul working here. You stopped me from being resurrected with the protections that stop agents being summonable to other planes without prior approval. She totally could have brought me back.”

“That’s not-“ The gnoll agent blinked, pulling the page Riz was jabbing at closer and reaching over to grab the reference book as well. The agent flipping through a few pages before smoothing out the slightly crumpled page Riz had been clutching, their eyes going wide with realisation. “-oh… oh dear. Well… you’re not wrong.”

“So we need to fix it.” Riz reached behind himself to grab the other files he’d been holding in his tail and stack them neatly on the desk, wings relaxing out of their outstretched position to fold comfortably behind his back as he calmed down.

“Well, we can fix it but you’re still dead kiddo. This is a huge fuck up on our part but we can’t just… zap you back into your old body. Literally all it will do is change the wording on this form to be ‘permanent death’… and it’s been nearly seven days since you died.” They dug a pen out of their desk drawer, waving it over the piece of paper and instantly fixing the wording in front of Riz before placing it back in his file still sitting on their desk.

“Yeah but they could still bring me back. Kristen could try Raise Dead that’s got a ten day time limit.” Riz flicked his tail, drumming his fingers on the edge of the desk.

“Not really? You’re already an ascended soul and like you said, they can’t summon you to a lower plane without permission.”

“So? Just get me to a lower plane? Fig is the mistress of the Bottomless Pit they can just resurrect me there.”

The gnoll agent winced, having to look away when the rogue dropped his ears back and gave them the saddest look they’d ever seen. Holding their hand up to block their view of his face when he purposefully dilated his eyes to make them look bigger. “No, stop that. We could try but the process for approving getting an agent to the lower planes can take days.”

There was a blinding flash of light off to their left that made Riz drop the ‘sad goblin’ expression and stand back up straight, ears flicking into an expression of mild confusion as Pok was left behind in the wake of the beam of light. The older goblins hair smoking slightly and smelling heavily of sulphur as he glanced around the field and zero’d in on his son.

“Hey sport. Feeling better? Find what you needed to find?”

“Yeah. Paperwork was wrong. I shouldn’t be dead.”

Pok blinked, glancing at the gnoll agent who just nodded and shrugged in answer to his silent question. “Oh. Alright then. Glad to hear it. You might want to come with me then.”

Riz ruffled his wings and trot over to take Poks hand when it was offered, his father leading him away from the field full of desks until they were barely visible in the distance. The rogue just making a confused noise before reaching out to dust some of the soot off his dads back while they walked.

“Where have you been?”

“Just a few problems on the lower planes, I had them teleport me back here when I realised where the problem was headed.” He laughed, leading Riz up and over a hill that looked down into a different field of Elysium below them. A jagged tear splitting the landscape like someone had ripped a hole in a piece of paper, the bow of an unfamiliar ship jammed through the crack and allowing several demons to spill into Bytopia unimpeded.

All Riz could really do was stand there in shock as several figures clambered their way out of the ship to the ground, one of them stabbing one of the demons that launched themselves off the ship after them and putting them down in one attack. The figure turning to point their sword at the nearest celestial trying to fight back the incursion in order to ask them a question.

“YOU! Where the FUCK is Riz Gukgak?” Fabian slashed at another of the demons as they tumbled off the ship, giving it a swift kick to knock it back through the rift.

“Oh. Wait are my party the problem or are they helping you with a different one?”

“Bit of both.” Pok laughed, ruffling Riz’s hair after letting go of his hand. “The demons were trying to invade anyway they just hitched a ride on their ship to help fight them back… and probably come to fetch you.”

“Well… saves me a trip to the lower planes for a resurrection since I got my paperwork sorted.”

“I was a bit worried we’d have to fight your friends off too if they tried to take you but it looks like you sorted out the nitty gritty on your own… Good job.” Pok held his arms out, grunting a little when Riz threw himself at him for a hug before glancing back down at his friends fighting below.

“I’m going to go help… and hopefully get revived. Thanks dad.”

“No problem Riz. Just… make sure you don’t come visit again for a long while?... at least outside of normal consultant stuff at least.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Fighting back the incursion had been tough without his weapons but at least he still had claws and teeth that he could fight back with. When the last demon fled back through the rift Riz was left exhausted, covered in gore and with a newfound appreciation for his wings which gave him a bit of an edge when it came to getting into a good position to rip out taller creatures throats.

He was only able to bask in the satisfaction of a fight well fought for all of six seconds though, Fabian dropping Fandrangor to the ground as he scooped the goblin up in a hug that could crush ribs. Riz happily throwing his arms around his neck and hugging back with just as much enthusiasm.

“What the fuck Riz, I take a nap for three hours and you go and get yourself killed? Ridiculous.” The half elf huffed, smoothing his hands along Riz’s back and tucking him more securely against his front as he turned to convene with the rest of their party.

“Sorry. It was an accident. Would have been fine if someone hadn’t fucked up my paperwork up here.” Riz purred happily, not caring that he was getting Fabian covered in demon ichor as he was hauled over to Kristen. Their cleric elbow deep in his briefcase as she pulled out a blanket wrapped bundle and placed it gently on the floor. Unwrapping it just enough that it wasn’t so tightly bound but keeping the sheet draped over the top so he wasn’t visible underneath.

“Oh… that’s my corpse. That is… deeply unsettling.” Riz winced, glad that he couldn’t really see past the sheet that had been left draped over his body. Seeing his own seven-day rotting remains would not be good for his psyche.

“NOT going to be a corpse in a minute.” Kristen reached over to pat his head when Fabian sat down next to her, their cleric reaching into her pocket with her other hand to withdraw a massive purse full of diamonds and slam it on the ground next to the head of the body before her.

“I am going to do this until it FUCKING STICKS this time. OKAY. Riz Gukgak. You are currently available and willing to be resurrected yes?”

“Yeah?”

“Good. Fair warning, this is going to take a while and you are going to feel like shit afterwards. Raise dead is going to leave you exhausted for a while afterwards.”

Kristen reached into the bag for a diamond with one hand, holding it up as she touched Riz’s body with her staff and started the spell. As soon as the staff touched his chest Riz felt something tug at the core of his being. He didn’t resist, letting his consciousness blank out and following the pull as everything went black for what felt like a few seconds.

Riz had to admit, when he next opened his eyes, that Kristen was not lying about how awful he would feel upon being resurrected. The goblin groaning and throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the light because everything hurt. He assumed it had worked though, not just because of the sheer exhaustion he was feeling right now but also because of the delighted exclamations of his teammates around him. The goblin huffing tiredly flicking his tail when Fabian picked him up again and held him against his front, Riz dropping his head onto his shoulder and making an unhappy hissing noise at the movement.

“Uuuuugh fuck. Ow? You weren’t kidding. How long will this take to go away?”

“Four long rests. Sorry.” Kristen pat his back soothingly, Riz absently noting that he didn’t have wings there any more and feeling a little sad for their loss. Oh well.

“Gods. Okay that’s going to suck.” He yawned, squinting his eyes open to blink at the ship still lodged in the dimensional tear behind them. “Speaking of sucking… did any of you tell my mom that I died or is that something I’m going to have to do when we get home?”

“Oh fuck… sorry dude we totally forgot.”

#fantasy high #riz gukgak #fabian seacaster #bad kids #fig faeth #gorgug thistlespring #adaine abernant #kristen applebees

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neuroprincess · 10 months ago

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His Favorite Person - Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Summary: The moms are going through a difficult time with LuLu's first teeth and a hero comes to the rescue.

Classification: Fluff

Warnings: Well, some realistic motherhood, it's not all flowers. Also, FRIENDSHIP GOALS

Word count: +2100

Unrevised

Six months went by in the blink of an eye and with it many challenges of first-time motherhood, the moms could barely breathe properly until the month mark, Luca is very smart and, despite his strong personality, didn't give as much trouble as expected. The redhead is in love with those squeezable cheeks and chubby little doll hands, the loud giggles are the highlight of her days, as well as Y/N's. But the relief and sense of stability has gone as quickly as it arrived, one day the baby is all smiles trying pasta, the next so fussy that getting him to eat becomes a mission impossible. So a week goes by that they would describe as hellish, not only because of the problems with feeding and the understandable irritability due to teething, but also because of the suffering shared with all the pain the boy is going through with the new phase, gums tearing and keeping him awake all night mumbling and feverish, causing general concern. On Friday, they're not sure whether or not to host the weekly couples' dinner; before it can be cancelled, Barb and her husband appear at the door with a pan in hand, worried looks on their faces followed by muffled laughter. At work, Melissa had already been seen with bite marks and obvious signs of not sleeping, the woman just didn't imagine it would be chaotic to the point of leaving her, literally, dishevelled.

"Where's my handsome little boy?" she greets LuLu excitedly and reaches out to take him from the younger's tired arms "What happened to make you cry, my dear?" and wipes the tears drying on his rosy little face, immediately noticing the high temperature "Poor thing..."

"Sorry about our condition, I was going to call you to cancel, but we were trying to get the fever down and completely forgot." the teacher whispers, staring at the scene in amazement, the moment her son clings to the friend he stops crying immediately, doesn't seem to be the same little monster who defeated her in exhaustion minutes before "What a sly one! Do you see that?!" she points out indignantly.

"Well, it's not my fault I'm the favorite." Barbara jokes and walks past them into the house, unsurprised to see a dozen toys scattered around the living room, the kitchen a complete mess, dirty dishes in the sink, open packets and cubes of frozen fruit on the counter, a doctor's recommendation for relief "Kid, was that all you?!"

"He's a Schemmenti." Gerald jokes, following along, leaving the pie on the nearest surface "How many hours did you sleep today?"

"Maybe three... or four." the timetables jumble in Y/N's head, she can't remember what time they went to sleep or how many times she woke up in the middle of the night.

"And it's been the longest night's sleep so far," adds the other, rubbing her eyes.

"You're clearly not well, why don't you try having a decent bath and getting some sleep while we take care of everything?" he offers, starting to gather up teddy bears and small cars on the carpet.

Surprised and grateful, the couple exchange glances at this generous offer; the idea of being able to take a bath for more than five minutes, plus a little rest, is tempting, but they are reluctant to let them deal with it instead.

"Go on, get some rest!" the man insists, shooing them away with a hand wave "We'll take care of everything."

"Are you sure?" Melissa asks with concern, it seems like a lot to do or maybe she's mentally overloaded to the point where doesn't want someone else to do something she considers an exclusive responsibility "I mean..."

"Don't be stubborn." Barb interrupts her and goes into the kitchen, putting Luca in the highchair, he doesn't even grumble about not being on lap "Take advantage of our presence until he gets sick of us, this phase is terrible."

The redhead raises her hands in surrender and Y/N exhales satisfied, tired to the bone, nursing a baby full time takes a lot of time, energy and attention, she can hardly imagine the state of her wife who works all day at school and still tries to give the same support as best she can.

Looking at Luca, who is calmly sitting down and taking the previously rejected piece of fruit into mouth, Melissa finally gives in.

"All right, but please call us if anything happens."

Everything goes very quickly and on autopilot. Before they realise it, the pair find themselves under the shower's hot water, washing each other's hair and sharing non-sexual cuddles, satisfying their longing for quality time together. Motherhood is deep, rewarding and valuable for both, a priority that has guided the small family's decisions and routine, little by little intimacy has been put aside amid the daily demands. They don't blame anyone or anything but the circumstances, they've read that it could happen at a certain point, all the nuances it would bring and they haven't forgotten their promise to stay together, to say "I love you", all the possible clichés to get through the storm without shaking marriage.

The teacher couldn't hold back a moan on entering the room, every muscle relaxed and the tension drained away, there was a calming sensation, she felt refreshed from the tip of the toe to the last strand of hair. Y/N can say the same, she never thought that a simple shower could feel like a full SPA, even with a massage, she barely lays down on the bed properly and already feels soft hands rubbing damp skin. There are soft smiles, some mischievous, strong fingers squeezing sensitive spots that manage to elicit the happiest sighs, occasionally there are teasing touches and loving bites.

"Years of relationship and still doves in love." they are surprised by Barbara's sudden appearance, they didn't hear her push the door slightly open "I've brought dinner and some tea."

She lifts the tray with caprese chicken sandwiches, pieces of pie, red fruit and camomile tea, would offer whisky if it wasn't for breastfeeding, she knows they deserve it when they go through the chaotic teething process, the girls were relatively calm and yet almost destroyed the house when they got their first set of tiny sharp teeth.

"Get fed and try to rest for a few hours." she put it between the couple "Let's do the same with the little one, he's already struggling to keep eyes open. You deserve a decent night's sleep."

"So true, I look like a different person now, imagine when I finally get some sleep." the redhead jokes before taking a generous bite of bread, her last meal having been lunch "Delicious!"

"Did LuLu give you and Gerald much trouble?" the younger smiles fearfully and sips the hot liquid "No crying, no grumbling, no breaking things, maybe we're in a dream."

"No, he was a little angel... except with Gerard when he tried to give him a piece of cut mango, I'm pretty sure he was trying not to bite him." she confesses the last part in a whisper, they laugh well aware of the implication "He's jealousy incarnate."

Melissa tosses her hair to side, her expression proud, needless to say he inherited it from her and everyone knows it.

"Mel once threatened to bite someone." she adds, explaining her friend.

"And I did." she says even more proudly, the person deserved it.

"Unbelievable!"

After all, Y/N still finds herself amazed by her adventures and oddities, she knows half of the stories from others, as the woman hardly ever brags about her achievements. Conversation doesn't last long, minutes later Gerald appears too, Luca agitated in his arms and ready to attack anyone who annoys him, just push at the edge a little. The youngest mother mentions getting up to intervene, only to be stopped by a sign from Barb, who picks him up without a second thought.

"No, you need a bit of time to yourselves." she reinforces and sets the boy on his feet, kissing the cheeks, leaving a lot of lipstick marks "Today we're going to give them a break, aren't we, cutie?!"

As if he knew what the topic was, he tries to answer in babbles, all the adults smile at such cuteness. Within seconds he is no longer irritated, an effect that only the one and only Barbara Howard has. She strokes the coppery hair, making him close the eyes immediately, an adorable giggle as he snuggles into her chest, little legs wiggling with joy.

"I'm starting to be offended by this more than obvious preference."

"I never tire of saying it, it's not my fault that I'm his favorite person." she shrugs and stands up, stroking the baby's back over the newly laid pyjamas, she inhales the sweet smell, delighting at the contact, her daughters are grown up now and the times when she could lovingly hold them all the time without protest are gone "LuLu and I will see you tomorrow."

She bends him over so that the mums can kiss him goodbye, but by this point Luca is already unconscious, losing the long and stubborn battle against sleep.

"Sorry, I'm going to have to say it, I LOVE YOU BARB!" Y/N sighs in pleasure and gives a grateful kiss, then throws herself against the mattress, clinging to the soft blankets "Nothing can convince me that it's not a dream."

"She needed it too, badly." Melissa reflects and moves closer to the friend, stroking her son's face affectionately "I really appreciate and am very grateful for what you're doing for us, being a mother has been intense and unexpected, we're lucky to have a support like you and Gerald, it's something I never expected in my life. The only reason I'm probably not crying right now is because tiredness overcomes even the tears." she jokes, wrapping her in a tight hug between loving smiles.

"There's nothing to be thankful for, I love our little prince and that's what friends do."

The door closes, Howard takes him to the nursery and they wait for a cry or any negative reaction, but the only noises to be heard are footsteps echoing down the corridor and the man humming while doing the housework. They smirk, silence has never been more appreciated than at this moment. The teacher lies down next to her wife, hands running along her robe-covered waist, fingertips brushing exposed skin, mouth meeting the back of neck, leaving a lingering kiss, the younger laughs, turning so that they are face to face, then leans in to bring their lips together.

"I think we should kidnap Barb." Y/N proposes with a grain of truth.

"We need to do that, cara mia! I'll take her down and you tie her up, deal?"

"Deal! But what about Gerald?" she jokes.

"He can survive without her, we can't."

"I can't believe we're going to sleep properly, I'm so excited that sleep has fled." she confesses eventually, feeling a new wave of energy coming from nowhere "It's so strange not having anything to do."

"That's because you're overwhelmed, principessa." Melissa props herself up on elbows so that she's partially seated, the hand that rests on the waist wanders down her curvaceous body and stops at the face she loves so much to see when waking up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear "But we have this evening to ourselves. God, they're being real heroes today."

"Yes! I swear that when she took LuLu in the arms I saw her in costume and cape for a millisecond."

"And he simply stopped crying, it's like she has superpowers."

"Or she's just his favorite person... in the whole world." Y/N leans over and kisses her, a consolation prize for what she's going to say next "I'm sorry, darling, but that's the truth. You've lost your place to Barb."

"At least I'm still your favorite?" the redhead makes those abandoned puppy dog eyes, feigning sadness.

"Always, hottest biter in the world."

The lights are switched off, they move closer in the soothing darkness and cuddle affectionately, wrapped in the comfort of being in the arms of the one they love. Sleep gradually comes, accompanied by the previous worries about Luca, if he's managed to eat properly, if he's hydrated enough, or if he's lain down in the right position.

"I can hear your thoughts, Mel."

"I'm sorry, amore mio." she whispers, a little thoughtfully. Despite her religious upbringing, she's not a fan of most traditions, so baptism hasn't crossed her mind until now, as she watches her best friend and confidant win over her son with her mere presence, creating a beautiful bond "What do you think about inviting Barb to be LuLu's godmother?"

"Perfect! We couldn't find anyone better than her."

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#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #female reader #abbot elementary #fluff #schemmenti family

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lilchibi-chan · 2 years ago

Text

cuddles w channie

With work and school, life was becoming overwhelming. Too much to bare in some moments.

Some days, you felt like you were just floating above your own body and watching the world as it moved around you. Bodies just merging and moving together.

You felt yourself burning out and not knowing how to fix it or make it better.

You tried distracting yourself by hanging out with friends or doing your favorite hobbies, but your focus for even doing those things became less and less.

Tonight, you’re working on some homework when you get a FaceTime call from Chan.

You pick up and he’s smiling his beautiful smile

“Hi,” he says, his big smile flashing at you

“Hey,” you say, sending a smile back his way

“Whatcha dooooin,” he asks causing a small giggle to escape you

“Just trying to get some work done..and sadly failing,” you say, then look down at the keyboard of your computer

“You okay,” he asks while adjusting his posture

“Yeah, it’s just been a bit of an overwhelming time,” you say, your voice getting shaky

“It’s been so hard to focus and I really don’t wanna fail my classes. I don’t want to let my parents down. I don’t want to let myself down, but I’ve been trying so hard to balance everything and fix it and nothing is working. I just…I just don’t know what to do anymore,” you say, tears slowly fall from your eyes

“Hey, it’s okay to feel this way. To feel overwhelmed. To start to feel burnt out. It’s just your body’s way of telling you to take a step back. We all have deadlines and work and all these other things that can take over our lives and ya know even I can feel overwhelmed and I still try and push through it but it can also effect your health really badly. Your health should come first,” he says

“I know…it’s just hard,” you say, wiping tears from your face

“Ya know what, I’m coming over,” he said

“Wh-Chan you really don’t have to, it’s fine…I’ll be okay,” you say, knowing he’s probably tired

“Y/N, I’m fine. I’m coming over and you’re gonna take a break,” he says and hangs up

You look at the computer screen for a moment and let out a small laugh. You go back to doing homework and research until he arrives.

About half an hour later, your door bell rings, removing you from your trance the computer screen has you in.

You unlock the door and Chan has bags of snacks, food and drinks.

“What’s all this,” you ask surprised

“I told you when I got here that you would be taking a break, so I bought all your favorite things,” he says walking into your house and taking off his shoes

You smile and thank him for the stuff. You take everything into the kitchen and put some things away and keep some stuff out.

“So what’s the plan, Chan”

He laughs a little at the rhyming you did with his name.

“Well,” he says placing his hands on the kitchen counter,“we are gonna watch your favorite movies and you have all your favorite snacks here to help you relax.”

You smile and grab the bag of snacks.

“Woah woah woah, where are you taking that,” he says, stopping you in your tracks

“My…room,” you say, slightly confused

“No no, no more bedroom. You have too much going on in there and I don’t want you to be tempted to go back to work,” he says walking closer to you, eventually closing the space

Your breath quickens a bit with him being so close to you.

He takes the bag from your hand and takes it to the living room.

He then takes you by the shoulders and guides you to sit on the couch.

“Don’t move,” he says

“Okay,” you laugh out

A couple minutes later, he returns with blankets and pillows and a huge, warm smile.

You get up to help him set up everything on the couch, the he sets up the table and tv. He pulls out your favorite movies from the tv stand and you decide which one to watch first. He pops the dvd in and joins you on the couch.

He gets comfortable and then holds his arms out.

You look at him and scoot closer to cuddle with him. He closes his arms around you and it feels like what you’ve been needing all along. You felt safe. You felt seen.

He rubbed your arm, up and down, then eventually moved to rubbing small circles on your temple and the side of your head.

The combination of this, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his chest rise and fall was starting to make you feel sleepy.

You snuggle deeper into him and he holds you a bit tighter, further comforting as you adjust. You close your eyes and drift off to sleep without realizing.

Chan kisses the top of your head and rubs small circles where his lips previously were. He waits for you to be fully asleep before turning of the tv, trying not to disturb you too much and joins you in sleeping, still holding you close.

Hope you all enjoyed this and I hope it lifts your spirits if you’ve been feeling a bit down.

CHANNIE IF YOU SEE THIS, NO YOU DIDN’T!!! I KNOW YOU SEE EVERYTHING BUT YOU DID NOT SEE THIS!!! (this is a joke btw, I don’t think he’ll see this ever)

#stray kids #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #skz #skz headcanons #skz fluff #skz imagines #bang chan #bang chan headcanons #bang chan fluff #bang chan imagines #channie #christopher bang #christopher bahng #stray kids stay #skz stay

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thesiltverses · 1 year ago

Note

I don’t know who types up the ask answers on this blog but to whoever’s reading this: how do you all feel about being alive and sentient? What keeps you going, what purpose propels you through this chaotic void? What do you think (or hope) waits for you after your inevitable end? What do you think constitutes a life well lived?

I'm going to answer this in the most wayward and stupidly overlong manner possible, because the previous ask had me thinking about puppets, and I was already mid-way through writing up a book recommendation that's semi-relevant to your questions.

Everyone (but especially people who've enjoyed The Silt Verses and all the folks on Tumblr who loved Piranesi by Susanna Clarke) ought to seek out Riddley Walker by Russell Hoban.

Riddley Walker is a wild and woolly story set in post-apocalyptic Kent, where human society has (d)evolved into a Bronze Age collective of hunter-gatherer settlements. Dogs, apparently blaming us for our crimes against the world, have become our predators, hunting us through the trees. Labourers kill themselves unearthing ancient machinery that they cannot possibly understand.

A travelling crowd of thugs led by a Pry Mincer collect taxes and attempt to impose themselves upon those around them with a puppet-show - the closest possible approximation of a TV show - that tells a mangled story of the world's destruction, featuring a Prometheus-esque hero called Eusa who is tempted by the Clevver One into creating the atomic bomb.

Riddley himself, a twelve-year-old folk hero in-the-making surrounded by strange portents, ends up sowing the seeds of rebellion and change by becoming a conduit for the anti-tutelary anarchic madness (one apparently buried in our collective unconscious) of Punch 'n' Judy.

It's a book in love with twisted reinterpretation, the subjectivity of interpretation, buried or forbidden truths coming back to light (the opening quote is a curious allegory about reinvention and cyclical change from the extra-canonical Gospel of Thomas, which is a good joke and mission statement on a couple levels at once) and human beings somehow stumbling into forms of wisdom or insight through clumsy and nonsensical attempts to make sense of a world that is simply beyond them.

It rocks.

The book starts like this:

On my naming day when I come 12 I gone front spear and kilt a wyld boar he parbly the las wyld pig on the Bundel Downs any how there hadnt ben none for a long time befor him nor I aint looking to see none agen. He dint make the groun shake nor nothing like that when he come on to my spear he wernt all that big plus he lookit poorly. He done the reqwyrt he ternt and stood and clattert his teef and made his rush and there we wer then. Him on 1 end of the spear kicking his life out and me on the other end watching him dy. I said, 'Your tern now my tern later.'

Riddley's devolved language - a trick which has been nicked/homaged by many other works, most notably Cloud Atlas and Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome - is a masterwork choice which may seem offputting or overwhelming at first, but which has its own brutal poetry and cadence to it, and ultimately which makes us slow down as readers and unpick the wit, puns, double-meanings and playful themes buried in line after line.

(Even those first five sentences get us thinking about cyclical change, ritual and myth in opposition to the dissatisfactions of reality, and 'tern' to paradoxically indicate a rebellious change in direction but also an obedient acceptance of inevitable death.)

In one of my favourite passages in literature and a statement of thought that means a lot to me, Riddley has been smoking post-coital weed with Lorna, a 'tel-woman', who unexpectedly declares her belief in a kind of irrational, monstrous Logos that lives in us, wears us like clothes, and drives us onwards for its own purpose:

'You know Riddley theres some thing in us it dont have no name.' I said, 'What thing is that?' She said, 'Its some kynd of thing it aint us but yet its in us. Its lookin out thru our eye hoals...it aint you nor it dont even know your name. Its in us lorn and loan and shelterin how it can.' 'Tremmering it is and feart. It puts us on like we put on our cloes. Some times we dont fit. Some times it cant fynd the arm hoals and it tears us a part. I dont think I took all that much noatis of it when I ben yung. Now Im old I noatise it mor. It dont realy like to put me on no mor. Every morning I can feal how its tiret of me and readying to throw me a way. Iwl tel you some thing Riddley and keap this in memberment. What ever it is we dont come naturel to it.' I said, 'Lorna I dont know what you mean.' She said, 'We aint a naturel part of it. We dint begin when it begun we dint begin where it begun. It ben here befor us nor I dont know what we are to it. May be weare jus only sickness and a feaver to it or boyls on the arse of it I dont know. Now lissen what Im going to tel you Riddley. It thinks us but it dont think like us. It dont think the way we think. Plus like I said befor its afeart.' I said, 'Whats it afeart of?' She said, 'Its afeart of being beartht.'

While Hoban is, I think, deeply humanistic to his bones and even something of a wayward optimist, the notion of human beings as helpless and ignorant vessels, individual carriers - puppets, if you like - for an unknowable and awful inhuman power-in-potentia and life-drive that lacks a true shape or intent beyond its own continued survival (even when that means destroying us or visiting us with agonising atrophy in the process) conjures up the pessimism of Thomas Ligotti, another big influence on our work and a dude who was really into his marionettes-as-metaphor.

Let's go to him now for his opinion on the thing that lives beneath our skin. Thomas?

Through the prophylactic of self-deception, we keep hidden what we do not want to let into our heads, as if we will betray to ourselves a secret too terrible to know… …(that the universe is) a play with no plot and no players that were anything more than portions of a master drive of purposeless self-mutilation. Everything tears away at everything else forever. Nothing knows of its embroilment in a festival of massacres… Nothing can know what is going on.

Curiously, both Ligotti and Riddley Walker have appeared in the music of dark folk band Current 93, whose track In The Heart Of The Wood And What I Found There directly homages the novel and ends with the repeated words,

"All shall be well," she said But not for me

These words, in turn, hearken back to Kafka's* famous reported conversation with Max Brod:

'We are,' he said, 'nihilistic thoughts, suicidal thoughts that rise in God's head.' This reminded me of the worldview of the gnostic: God as an evil demiurge, the world as his original sin. 'Oh no', he said, 'our world is only a bad, fretful whim of God, a bad day.' 'So was there - outside of this world that we know - hope?' He smiled: 'Oh, hope - there is plenty. Infinite hope, just not for us."

So, we walk on.

We carry this thing that's riding on our backs, endlessly bonded to it, feeling its weight more and more with every passing day, unable to turn to look at it. Buried truths come briefly to life, and are hidden from us again. Perhaps they weren't truths at all. We couldn't stand to look the truth directly in the eyes in any case.

If there is hope, it's for the thing that looks out from our eyeholes, which thinks us but cannot think like us. We'll never get to where we're going, and the thing will never be born. There's no hope for it. Perhaps we don't want it to win anyway. It's nothing, and the key to everything.

The Jesus from the Gospel of Thomas says:

'When you see your own likeness, you rejoice. But when you see the visions that formed you and existed before you, which do not perish and which do not become visible - how much then will you be able to bear?'

Kafka, writing to his father, begins by expressing the inexpressibility of his own divine terror:

You asked me why I am afraid of you. I did not know how to answer - partly because of my fear, partly because an explanation would require more than I could make coherent in speech…even in writing, the magnitude of the causes exceeds my memory and my understanding.

Kafka concludes that while he cannot ever truly explain himself, and that the accusations in his letter are neat subjectivities that fail to account for the messiness of reality, perhaps 'something that in my opinion so closely resembles the truth…might comfort us both a little and make it easier for us to live and die.'**

It doesn't bring comfort to Kafka, whose diarised remarks both before and after the 1919 letter make it clear that he views his relationship with the things (people) that birthed him as an endless entrapment that prevents him from attaining any kind of self-actualisation or even comfort, since he cannot escape their influence or remember a time before them:

I was defeated by Father as a small boy and have been prevented since by pride from leaving the battleground, despite enduring defeat over and over again.

It's as if I wasn't fully born yet...as if I was dissolubly bound to these repulsive things (my parents).*** The bond is still attached to my feet, preventing them from walking, from escaping the original formless mush. That's how it is sometimes.

Samuel Beckett returns again and again (aptly) to this pursuit of a state of true humanity and final understanding that is at once fled and unrecoverable, yet to be born, never to be born, never-existed, endlessly to be pursued, pointless to pursue. From the astonishing end sequence of The Unnameable:

alone alone, the others are gone, they have been stilled, their voices stilled, their listening stilled, one by one, at each new-com- ing, another will come, I won’t be the last. I’ll be with the others. I’ll be as gone, in the silence, it won’t be I, it’s not I, I’m not there yet. I’ll go there now. I’ll try and go there now, no use trying, I wait for my turn, my turn to go there, my turn to talk there, my turn to listen there, my turn to wait there for my turn to go, to be as gone, it’s unending, it will be unending, gone where,where do you go from there, you must go somewhere else, wait somewhere else, for your turn to go again

I’m not the first, I won’t be the first, it will best me in the end, it has bested better than me, it will tell me what to do, in order to rise, move, act like a body endowed with despair, that’s how I reason, that’s how I hear myself reasoning, all lies, it’s not me they’re calling, not me they’re talking about, it’s not yet my turn, it’s someone else’s turn, that’s why I can’t stir, that’s why I don’t feel a body on me, I’m not suffering enough yet, it’s not yet my turn, not suffering enough to be able to stir, to have a body, complete with head, to be able to understand, to have eyes to light the way

From Thomas' Jesus:

When you make the two one, and you make the inside as the outside and the outside as the inside and the above as the below, and if male and female become a single unity which lacks 'masculine' and 'feminine' action, when you grow eyes where eyes should be and hands where hands should be and feet where feet should stand and the true image in its proper place, then shall you enter heaven.

Tom's Jesus makes a particularly Gnostic habit of both insisting that the hidden will be revealed and demonstrating the impossibility of attaining a state where the hidden ever can be revealed. Contrary to C.S. Lewis, we will never have faces with which to gaze upon the lost divine and the mysteries that shaped us, and crucially, as Christ puts it, we would not be able to bear the sight of ourselves if we did.

We will never become the thing that's riding on our backs.

Jesus again:

The disciples ask Jesus, 'Tell us how our end shall be.' Jesus says, 'Have you found the beginning yet, you who ask after the end? For at the place where the beginning is, there shall be the end.'

The Unnameable:

I’ll recognise it, in the end I’ll recognise it, the story of the silence that he never left, that I should never have left, that I may never find again, that I may find again, then it will be he, it will be I, it will be the place, the silence, the end, the beginning, the beginning again, how can I say it, that’s all words, they’re all I have, and not many of them, the words fail, the voice fails, so be it

The final passage of The Unnameable, which often is hilariously shorn and misinterpreted as an inspirational quote about how if you don't succeed, try again:

all words, there’s nothing else, you must go on, that’s all I know, they’re going to stop, I know that well, I can feel it, they’re going to abandon me, it will be the silence, for a moment, a good few moments, or it will be mine, the lasting one, that didn’t last, that still lasts, it will be I, you must go on, I can't go on, you must go on. I’ll go on, you must say words, as long as there are any, until they find me, until they say me, strange pain, strange sin, you must go on, perhaps it’s done already, perhaps they have said me already, perhaps they have carried me to the threshold of my story, before the door that opens on my story, that would surprise me, if it opens, it will be I, it will be the silence, where I am, I don’t know. I’ll never know, in the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on. I’ll go on. †

We bear this thing that's riding on our backs. We'll never get to where we're going, and the thing will never be born. If it was born, it'd be too terrible for us to bear. There's nothing riding on our backs.

It will never speak us into being.

We keep on calling out into the silence, we keep trying to explain or understand the thing that's riding on our backs, searching for a way to birth it before we die. Our words about the thing are crucial, and they're meaningless, and they're all we have, and they're nothing at all. We cannot name it and we cannot express it, but we cannot stop trying, and we will keep turning back to our words about the thing, obsessing over them, tearing them to pieces, putting them back together.

I'm fumbling at something I can't think or say, but fumbling is all we're capable of. There could be beauty and meaning and comfort in the fumbling, but it's also vain, and foolish, and pointless, and we're lying to ourselves about the beauty and the meaning and the comfort, and we're indulging ourselves pointlessly by going on and on about the pointlessness of it. Nothing can know what's going on. We will never get close enough to understand without being destroyed.

Thomas' Jesus again, warning those who seek to reveal what's hidden:

He who is near me is near the fire.

Riddley Walker, reflecting on the Punch puppet's inexplicable desire to cook and eat his own child:

Whyis Punch crookit? Why wil he al ways kill the baby if he can? Parbly I wont ever know its jus on me to think on it.

If you got to the end of this, congratulations: but the above is honestly the most appropriate patchwork of what I believe, what propels me, what I feel.

As for what comes after life, I think it's fairly straightforwardly a nothingness we are tragically incapable of fully knowing or accepting - it's Beckett's unimaginable and unattainable silence, a silence that his characters' voices keep on shattering even as they cry out for it.

-Jon‡

*I can't remember if Kafka makes prominent reference to Czech puppets in his work, which is interesting in its own right given the thematic relevance (the protagonist in The Hunger Artist is perhaps a kind of self-directing puppet show?).

However, Gustav Meyrink - who some unsourced Google quotes suggest was pals with Czech puppeteer Richard Teschner - did write a strange little story, The Man On The Bottle, about an audience watching a 'marionette show' who are too wrapped up in performances and masks to interpret the reality that they're actually watching a human being suffocate to death.

**Thomas Ligotti: "Something had happened. They did not know what it was, but they did know it as that which should not be.

Something would have to be done if they were to live with that which should not be.

This would not (be enough); it would only be the best they could do."

***Beckett's Malone Dies actually kicks off with a related sentiment:" I am in my mother’s room. It’s I who live there now. I don’t know how I got there...In any case I have her room. I sleep in her bed. I piss and shit in her pot. I have taken her place. I must resemble her more and more."

† I don't necessarily align myself in humour with Ligotti on a lot of this stuff but I imagine he would recognise both Beckett's writing and Kafka's frustrations re explaining the causes of his hatred for his father as sublimation: finding artistic and philosophical ways of sketching the inexpressible horror and uncertainty of our existence in order to reckon with it at a remove without destroying ourselves. A higher form of self-deception, but self-deception nevertheless.

‡Muna's more of an anarcho-nihilist, I think.

#long fucking post just to say 'i don't know'

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months ago

Note

WIBTA if I asked a friend to not talk about his show during a future movie marathon.

This is a simple thing I think- some backstory for this ask is that my friends and I have known each other for years now and are all in a discord server together. Which the server is how we met, and after so long we’re all super close.

About a year ago I decided to host a marathon. It’s a franchise I grew up with, and come to love as a child as it’s something I bonded with my brother and dad over. My brother grew out of it, and my dad lives too far for me to watch it with him. So! I thought I’d just host a marathon with friends.

We all thought it would be fun, including friend who I will call B. He was most ecstatic for a couple movies. And yeah! Fun times! And eventually it got time for the marathon which would last all month. At least half the films in the franchise we’d watch.

The first couple days were fun, but it eventually got to the point where B would pop in, then go “Oh it’s a nothing movie” and then leave. Which alright that’s fine! He didn’t have to watch every single film.

It kind of annoyed me a bit cause he would poke fun at us watching this one and not the ones he was excited for. But I was going chronological order, we got to the good stuff when we got to it.

And then B discovered a franchise, and got into it. He told me a bit about it and tbh it wasn’t my cup of tea. But I would listen to him about it.

Which is when he decided it would be fun to only watch this show whenever I was hosting the movie. Now I was annoyed, but I wasn’t really comfortable saying anything cause he was excited. But it would annoy me that he would wait specifically for me to start the movie to start watching the show and then commentating about all the cool stuff that was happening in it. And we wouldn’t stream it either, so we couldn’t even see what he was commentating on.

And it was almost every day save for four of them. As those four were the only “good” films of the franchise. Tbh I was tempted to try and host the movies in another server without him. But it would’ve been cruel to outright exclude him at the time.

We finished the marathon with half the movie franchise done, and B did talk to me about hosting his own marathon for his franchise. Which sure! Go ahead. I don’t think I would’ve joined at all at that point because tbh I was a bit peeved about it all. I did give him advise about times, and which channel to host it in.

He didn’t end up doing a marathon for some reason. Idk what the exact reason was anymore.

But to the point- we only finished half the movie franchise because it has been a long long franchise. And I decided to bring forward the idea of hosting the last half of it, sometime in June when everyone would be home for the summer. A lot of the friends are already excited about the idea.

Which is when B chimes in that he can finish the rest of his series. And I had to take a moment to myself. I am happy he’s found a franchise he likes. I am. But why wait to watch/share it while the group is watching/enjoying something completely different?

And it’s not an all day event either, it’s just an hour-to-two hours. As it’s just one movie a day. Surely he could find time to watch and commentate it a different time?? Or even host it a different month, it doesn’t have to be the same exact time.

Idk I feel like a complete dick even thinking of asking him, cause I’ve been there where I desperately wanted to talk about a franchise, but during another movie?? One that isn’t even remotely similar?

So WIBTA if I asked B to watch his series another time? When there isn’t a movie currently being hosted.

tldr: Hosted a movie marathon month, everyday playing one movie from the franchise. Friend decides to watch a completely different franchise during most of the marathon. While planning for another marathon, he has already declared he will be doing the same again. WIBTA for asking him to just watch the other one a different time.

🐊🐋🐲⚡️ just so I can find it later

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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blueicequeen19 · 2 years ago

Note

Can you do a JJ one where they use like whipped cream or chocolate syrup or something? Because ohhh mah lawwdd that would be hot. 🥵

Kiss The Cook

Warnings: none, just fluffy smut

It was your three year anniversary with your boyfriend. You dreaded the day because it came with a lot of unspoken expectations. You both still had to work so you agreed to celebrate that night. Most likely with dinner and lots of sex. JJ Maybank was a romantic at heart but he was still a man. He did most of his thinking with only one head.

Regardless of what day it was, you were still excited to get home and see your man. You wished you'd had the opportunity to shower and doll yourself up but he'd beat you home. Plus you knew he didn't care about those types of things. He wanted you no matter what you wore. Half your time at home was spent in comfy clothes with a messy bun. Tonight would be no different.

You enter your apartment, smelling the delicious scent of a seafood boil. Your favorite food. Your mouth practically watered as you slip your shoes off and set your purse down.

"Babe?" JJ calls from the kitchen.

"Yea! It's me!" You take a few steps towards the kitchen when he rounds the corner, making you laugh out loud at the sight of him in an apron that says kiss the cook.

"You're cooking?" You tease as he wraps his bare arms around you. Your hands find his bare back and you quickly release his nude aside from some black boxers that are covered in pink hearts.

"Hell yea, I'm cooking for my girl. You deserve it after three years of putting up with me. Now give me a kiss." JJ brings you in for a passionate kiss while you let your hands slide down his muscular back and squeeze both ass cheeks.

"Watch it," He warns, his erection starting to tent through the apron, "You don't get that part of your present yet."

"I get more than one present?" You giggle like a schoolgirl before he kisses you again, his own smile peaking through.

"You get lots of presents tonight. Most of them start with an O and end with my name but I know you won't complain." JJ nuzzles your neck, sending chills and fire through your body. You were on the verge of saying forget dinner when he pulled away, leading you to the kitchen. You gasp at the sight before you, glancing from the kitchen to the rest of your open floor planned apartment.

"You cleaned too?" Like you could be anymore turned on. The man was notorious for leaving clothes everywhere but the entire place was spotless. Even the kitchen despite the stock pot full of yummy food you could smell. The small two person table was covered with saran wrap with a couple of forks laid out like you'd seen done at the local seafood boil place you both loved to go to. They didn't give you plates or anything. They just dumped the contents of the boil on your table and you dug in like savages. Lit candles also decorated the various countertops around the kitchen and a dozen red roses were perched in a vase.

"I know, I know. I tend to overdo it." JJ kisses your cheek before moving to the stove. You didn't know whether to look at the romantic set up or his tight ass. Both were tempting.

"JJ Maybank, I think I want to have all your babies." You tease, sitting down at the table as you watch him. He sends you a flirty look before pulling a bottle of wine from the fridge and pouring you both a glass. JJ brings it over, clinking your glasses before you both take a drink.

"I want you to have all my babies." JJ winks at you before the night continues into a peaceful setting of your usual banter and good food. By the time you're done, your eyes are almost heavy from your food coma and you're both buzzed. JJ's face is beat red from laughing and the alcohol, your feet propped up on his knee as he massages your soles after cleaning up the table.

"I could go for something sweet." JJ murmurs, sitting your feet down and going to the fridge. He pulls out chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and a tub of ice cream.

You look away from him, the emotions making your eyes water as you take a second to appreciate what a good man you have. Sure, he's sometimes childish and he can't load a dishwasher and he leaves his clothes scattered through the apartment but he's good and he loves you.

"This is the real gift." JJ announces. You look up just as he sits a hefty bowl of ice cream in the middle of the table. It's piled high with scoops of ice cream and perfectly topped with chocolate and whipped cream. But something sparkly catches your eyes on top and you're almost convinced you're seeing things before it slowly comes into focus. You suck in a breath, your eyes widening as you look to him for confirmation.

"Okay, so maybe I should've thought that through a little better but," JJ plucks the object from the top of the dessert and licks the ice cream off it before dropping to one knee, holding it out to you.

"Y/F/N, you are the love of my life and I'm so thankful to have spent the last three years with you. You've been my best friend for over half my life and I'd like to spend the rest of it with you by my side, as my wife. I know I can't offer you much and I'll piss you off more often than not but you have my heart and I promise to always treasure yours. Please, marry me?" So much emotion washes over you that for a moment you can't do or say anything but stare at him. He cocks his head at you, slightly smirking before you snap out of it.

"Yes! Oh my god, yes!" You cry happily. JJ beams, sliding the ring onto your finger before you throw yourself into his arms. You don't realize you're crying until you pull away from his neck and he looks down at you with so much love and admiration, gently wiping your tears.

"I love you." JJ whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I love you, too." You breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a hard kiss. JJ immediately scoops you up, turning to sit you on the counter as your kisses grow feverish. He shoves your thighs apart, rubbing his hard length against your crotch as he takes your hair down and fists the nape of it. You moan into his mouth, letting his tongue dominate your own as you grind back against him. You wanted him now more than ever. You were engaged. JJ Maybank was your fiance.

Your clothes end up on the floor along with the few articles of clothing he has on. You reach between your bodies, stroking him before guiding him to your entrance when he stops you, pulling away and shoving you down on your back. JJ snatches up the chocolate off the counter and immediately begins to pour it over your breasts and down your stomach to your mound.

"JJ!" You gasp, just as he picks up the whipped cream next and covers your pussy with the cold substance. Your body breaks out in goosebumps as you laugh, feeling his tongue find the trail he left on your stomach.

"I'm going to get sticky!" You giggle, laughing as he climbs on top of the counter and expertly licks the chocolate off your nipples. You moan, tugging at his hair as he licks and sucks you clean until your entire body is a trembling mess.

"That's the idea." JJ smirks, working his way back down your body and sliding to his feet after leaving you a panting mess. Your clit was throbbing, begging for the relief of his mouth.

"You're so goddamn sweet." JJ's voice is deeper now, the lust engulfing him as he licks a stripe up your slit, locking eyes with you as he coats his tongue in more whipped cream.

"JJ." You moan as he continues to lick and lick until you're squirming, your clit throbbing painfully. Suddenly, he buries his face in your pussy, eagerly consuming you as your back arches off the counter.

It was going to be a long, sticky night.

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