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wisteria-blooms · 2 years

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long hair & tattoos (bill weasley & reader) (15/15) *complete*

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

CHAPTER 15: The day before Bill is set to depart for Egypt, you are torn between two thoughts: to convince him to stay or to let him go. Luckily, help and love come from the unlikeliest of places. (8.5k words) TAG LIST MOVED TO THE BOTTOM!

A/N: Thank you guys for following along on this ride! It's certainly been a fun one. I'm grateful for all your comments and feedback; it really inspires me to write more. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the ending! Of course, feel free to leave any thoughts. (:

CHAPTER 15: THAT'S ALRIGHT WITH ME

Being back at Malfoy Manor wasn’t favourable either. You’d have rather hopped on a train somewhere and disappeared into the forest to be left alone with your thoughts. However, this was better than being confined with Fred and George and being teased relentlessly about Bill. Every question they had pushed you to the precipice of admitting the truth and you didn’t want them to hear it. If anything, you wanted Bill to hear first.

“(Y/N)!” Narcissa exclaimed when you walked in the doors just before lunch. She was dressed like she was going out to town later this afternoon. “What are you doing here?”

“I can tell you’re absolutely delighted by my presence.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course I am,” Narcissa corrected, her left hand gliding on the stair railing as she descended the steps. “I just wasn’t expecting you back so soon.”

“I’d like to spend a night or two here before,” you stammered, “the big move.”

“Well, it is your home.” Narcissa pursed her lips. “And speaking of the move, your father wants to see if you need an extension on that lease on the penthouse. We can’t imagine Shell Cottage is very comfortable in the winter.”

“Yeah,” you responded non-committedly.

“Are you joining us for lunch?” she inquired on the last step down.

“I already ate,” you lied. That was enough to satisfy your mother’s question.

“Then we’ll see you at dinner,” she said, passing you and turning the corner. “I’ll have Dobby prepare another seat.”

You nodded. “Sure.”

When your mother was out of sight, you ran up the stairs and turned the corner to your room. You flung the door open to your room and the weight of the past week hit you like an avalanche. You scrunched your face, trying to alleviate the tingle in your nose that you knew all too well—there were tears behind your eyes.

Your mind reeled back to the pleasant memories you shared with Bill, trying to look for little hints and clues. There had to be a flicker of love in those eyes, even if they were just for a split second. Maybe you were a fool for convincing yourself of it because it was clear that Bill didn’t care; he was moving back to Egypt and didn’t consult you or offer the courtesy of letting you know. You. Didn’t. Matter. The weight of that thought was cruel and punishing on your heart.

What was holding him back? Why shouldn’t he fall in love with you?

Then you realized.

Most people started off a new relationship revealing just bits of themselves—little fragments—and kept their skeletons tucked in the closet. You, however, sped full force ahead, running all the lights because the thought of falling in love with Bill never crossed your mind. You dove headfirst and put the bad and ugly on full display like it was a theatre show. You picked apart your family at every given chance, only to realize too late, when you’d irreversibly fallen for him, that he was searching for someone kind and familial. While he was cherishing time with his siblings, you were picking fights with Draco and your cousins. You felt sick.

Bill was probably ready to settle down, probably ready to have children of his own. You were still a child, directionless and going about your days with no goal in end. How could he like someone who bar-hopped with his younger brothers every summer? You were also barely four years in the working world, Bill was teetering on thirteen. Age, especially the gap between you and Bill, was never an issue for you and you’d never even thought about it. Now combing through all the reasons Bill wouldn’t like you back, it was blaring red.

You laughed blithely. It was your fault. You had fucked it up. You felt the first tears pooling in your eyes. Just a little, you promised. Then you’d stop crying.

You scooted over to look for the tissues in the drawer, but instead, your fingers found Bill’s letter he’d sent the morning after the first dinner. That fated dinner felt like yesterday and ages ago all at once. You were never going to get that back, the first meeting, the comfortable friendship you’d built with Bill. If he mentioned he was trotting off to Egypt back then, you wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. Now, things were complicated beyond repair.

Against better judgement, you began to read.

‘My love….’

Instantaneously, you came to a devastating realization that you’d never hear those words out of his mouth. And the thought of that burst the damn. There were hot tears running down your face now. You tried to keep quiet, but your heart amplified what you felt: sheer pain.

The one thing abating the pain was you letting yourself go and dissolving into a cathartic mess. Bill Weasley had reduced you to a lovesick fool and you’d sworn you’d let no man do it.

Feeling uncomfortable after sitting on the ground for so long, you moved up from the carpeted floor to the bed. You reached from the tissues on the nightstand and just laid there, twitching as sporadic sobs racked your body. You remained immobile otherwise, the net result of two opposing forces acting on you: one, telling you to go to Bill, and the other advising you to let it go.

Let him go.

It was probably hours that you’d cycled through napping and crying. You fancied daydreams where you pretended your bed was the same bed you slept in Nice, and that you’d never left the comfort of being by Bill’s side, of being close to him and the water. When you woke up to a different room than you envisioned, you grimaced and cried. In between, you had dreams of someone calling your name repeatedly.

The sun was low when you’d woken up for the umpteenth time. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you knew they were probably red and swollen. You still heard calls for your name, and you quickly realized you weren’t dreaming.

“What are you doing in there?” a sharp voice called from outside the door. “Didn’t you hear the call for dinner?”

You sat paralyzed. It was Draco.

“I’ll come later!” you yelled. The last person you wanted to reveal your weakened state to was your menace of a brother.

“We’ve been calling you for the last half hour!” he stated impatiently. “What’s wrong with you? Come down for supper.”

You panicked. You really didn’t want to be questioned or seen by anyone right now. “I’m fine! Go on, eat without me!”

Draco knocked again. “I don’t believe you one bit. Let me in!”

“I’m fine!” you repeated. “Mind your own business!”

“I gave you a fair enough warning. I’m opening the door.”

“I swear I will kill you if you do,” you threatened.

He jangled the doorknob with more force. “Then open it yourself! You’re acting like a petulant child, (Y/N)!”

The will to fight with him was leaving your body. You were tired, beaten down, and parched for water and even someone to confide in. You didn’t imagine it’d be Draco, but at some point, you needed to let someone in and offer you guidance. You pushed yourself off the bed, your head feeling heavier than the rest of your body. You trundled the steps to the door and opened it slowly.

As if it were a joke, you looked at Draco with your tear-stained face, bloodshot eyes, mussed hair, and forced a wide smile. “Happy?” You knew he’d mock you endlessly, and this front was the best way to shield yourself against it.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but you didn’t expect Draco to take a step back. The snarl on his face quickly dissolved into a soft expression of surprise.

He had swallowed whatever he had wanted to say and instead asked, “What’s wrong?”

Your tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine, obviously.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I haven’t seen you cry for ages. Not since you broke your leg at Hogwarts after that stunt you tried pulling with your friends.”

“I was fine,” you murmured. “Same difference.”

He asked, without missing a beat, “Does it have to do with Weasley?”

You feebly shook your head.

Draco peered at you in disbelief.

A sob in your throat threatened to rise and manifest into a cry. You urged Draco into the room. “Shut the door,” you demanded.

Draco closed the door behind him and walked in. “You’re lying. I always know when you’re lying,” he immediately fired. “Much like I always know when you’re upset about something, or who it’s about—”

He stopped when your nose scrunched up again. Flustered, and probably not used to dealing with a crying sister or crying women in general, he grabbed a tissue from your nightstand and handed it over to you.

“So, it is Weasley,” he concluded.

You said nothing. You found it hard to honest with him; there was little trust with how often you went behind each other’s backs. But at some point, both of you needed to let your walls down and get to root of it all—you were siblings, after all.

“I take that as a yes,” he finished for you. “What happened? Has he not been treating you well?”

“No,” you blew into the tissue, “he’s moving.”

“Where? The cottage?”

“Egypt.”

“Egypt?” Draco repeated incredulously, then whispered under his breath, “What the fuck?” He looked back at you. ��Is this a joke? I’m trying to be serious here with you, (Y/N). So, quit joking around.”

You looked at him with bleary eyes and shook your head. “I’m serious. I wish I wasn’t.”

“Have you discussed this together?” Draco continued. “That’s a rather large decision to make without your input.”

“He doesn’t need my input,” you said as you squeezed your eyes shut, wringing out more tears. “I officially do not matter to him.”

Draco looked at you, puzzled. “What do you mean? Have you broken up?”

You shook your head and paused for a while. You were fighting with yourself to tell Draco the truth, but there was still a chance that he’d be a righteous ass about it. Your resolve to rekindle your relationship could easily backfire on you. But the genuine look on his face swayed your decision.

“It means you were right. It was all a farce because I didn’t want to date Crabbe and I wanted to get mother and father off my back at the same,” you admitted with a grimace, cracking one eye open to gauge his expression. When he remained quiet, you continued.

“So, yeah,” you finished with a hiccup. “We’re not actually together.”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes and pushed his arm. “Don’t tell them please,” you pleaded weakly. “Mother and father.”

Draco shook his head and stared at you. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know.” You fell back on the bed. “I think we did too good of a job, didn’t we? I’ve even persuaded myself to be in love with him.”

“No,” Draco corrected. “Truthfully, I thought I was mistaken near the end, in France. The beginning was a different story. I saw you kicking him under the table and his arm fly up.” He smiled when he saw you laugh through your clogged nose—at least his commentary was taking your mind off things. “You’re also an awful liar.”

“That’s because we’re family,” you explained. You motioned from your eyes to his with two fingers. “I’ve been your sister forever. I also know when you lie. I’ve been observing you for twenty-one years. I know you wet your bed when you were six, when we shared a bed in Switzerland, so don’t try blaming it on me again.”

A rare smile snaked its way on his face, then fell again. “I,” he looked away, embarrassed. “I know we haven’t had the best relationship the past couple of years.”

“And whose fault was that?”

Draco paused, not used to taking the blame for anything. So, you took the chance to speak to him, sibling to sibling. “I’ve never stopped caring for you, you know. You’re my little brother.” Your voice caught. “I could never imagine being cruel to you, but at times, it was the only way to talk to you.”

“I… somewhere along the lines, I was….” He paused, a glitch in this new sentimental and human Draco. “Too uptight and thought you were smearing the family name with who you associated with.” He shuffled a little. “But you’re my sister, you’ve always been there for me, whether it was sticking up for me in front of our parents or getting Pansy off my back. So, I’m….”

“You’re?” you egged, the corner of your lips lifting.

“I’m sorry.”

He obviously wasn’t used to these foreign words rolling off his tongue, but you accepted his apology regardless. You knew he meant it.

You peered up at him. “Truce?”

He nodded. “Truce.”

Then he added, “And I wasn’t serious about Crabbe. Even I find him revolting. Truthfully, I haven’t talked to him in years. I was mortified to have that goof as a friend.”

“You don’t want Crabbe as your brother-in-law?” you pressed.

Draco made a face. “I would actually hope you’d get disowned if that ever happened. You’re miles above him in any sort of league.”

“I don’t know,” you said, fiddling with your hair. “Father seems to approve of him.”

Draco’s face contorted in disgust at the thought of Crabbe as family. “Whatever happens with Weasley, just know you’re too good for him, too. If he fucks up, then it’s his loss.”

“You’re serious?”

“Have I ever said anything so nice to you?”

“Never!”

You propelled yourself off the bed. “Can I have a—?” you asked, reaching your arms out.

Before you could finish, Draco rolled his eyes and pulled you into a hug. He was a little stiff and robotic, but it felt just like the old days.

“Don’t expect this all the time,” he scoffed, one of his hands giving you a pat on the back of your head. He looked up at the ceiling in embarrassment. “It’s only because you’re upset.”

“I will expect one every day from now on,” you mumbled, heart bursting with love for your baby brother. It felt good to have him back just like things were. “Three every day if Bill moves to Egypt.”

“He’s not moving,” Draco reiterated, his voice holding firm. “Not if you have anything to do with it.”

You reached up to ruffle his perfect blonde hair. You were so glad you’d come home first. At home, you’d realized, there was always someone’s arms to cry into. Most of the times, it was your mother’s, but you welcomed change.

You sprinted in record time to the penthouse entrance after arriving at the gardens outside of it. Draco’s words renewed your confidence and pointed you in the right direction. There was no way you’d let Bill leave without him knowing how you felt. And Draco had affirmed that it was his loss if you he let you go. Bill’s loss. He was losing you, not vice versa.

You were hoping to catch Bill at home before he departed to the Burrow. You might’ve still gone there, but to have to confess your feelings to him within earshot of his family would be something you’d never live down.

You rushed past the concierge in hot pursuit for the speaker. You pressed one palm flush against the cool metal, the other finger shaking as you hammered down the numbers to connect to his suite. A voice responded after you hit the call button: “Hello?”

“Hello, Bill?” you called out frantically.

“(Y/N)?” he responded, voice fuzzy through the speaker. “What are you doing here?”

“I think,” you lied through deep pants, “I might’ve left something in your suitcase.”

“Okay,” he responded without question. “Come on up.”

Your heart was beating a thousand miles a minute on the lift. You did a final one-over of your appearance and it looked like the enchantment did a swell job at fixing your puffy and red eyes. You repeated everything you were going to say in your mind, a jumble of words sewn together into a somewhat coherent speech on your way here.

You mulled over the conversation like it was a looping film reel in your head, black-and-white and chock full of static. You were going to sit on the couch with Bill, your tone calm like you were an actual adult. If he craved maturity, then that’s what you were going to give him. You were going to listen to him. You were going to be rational. You were going to say, “Bill, I have to admit, I’m disappointed that you hadn’t talked to me about moving to Egypt first. Because, over the months, I’ve developed feelings for you,” and let the conversation carry on.

When the lift doors opened, a bubble of anxiety swelled in your chest. The penthouse was almost bare. Was it like this the first time you arrived? No, there was a French press on the counter and pans and tasteful Percy-picked paintings adorning the walls. There definitely weren’t full cardboard boxes tucked to the side.

“Hey.” Bill ran down the steps with a roll of tape in one hand and a flat box in the other. “What can I help you look for?”

Bill’s weight—rhythmic thuds—on the stairs reassured you he was real, still here beside you and not three thousand miles away. This time tomorrow though, he might not be. The thought triggered a stinging behind your eyes. The sorrow quickly turned into frustration as you realized in the past week, he hadn’t even bother to initiate conversation. He was acting like France was nothing more than a dream, that he didn’t spend most of his time beside you, sharing tender laughs and honest conversations. Why was it you who had to do all the legwork?

‘Compose yourself, (Y/N),’ you scolded. ‘Be mature, be rational.’ You were going— no, there was no chance of that as soon as the thought of Bill never being by your side again infiltrated your head again. Despite thinking you were wrung dry from the morning, you felt tears streaming down your cheeks.

It was Bill’s turn to panic. “Hey,” he said, setting up the folded-up cardboard box against the wall and running over, “what’s wrong?”

“Why?” was all you could choke out. The rest of your rehearsed speech washed out of your mind immediately when you saw his face.

“Why what?” Bill repeated.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me?!” you exclaimed, voice pitching up as more tears leaked out of your eyes. There was a patch of hoarseness quilted in your voice but you continued, strained, “Why would you move and not tell me?”

“What?” Bill said. His face contorted in confusion. “I thought you knew, (Y/N).”

“The thing is, I didn’t know!” You gasped for breath. “You don’t need my permission to do anything, but you could’ve at least told me!”

“I think,” Bill’s hands cupped your cheeks, his thumb stroking a tear away, “we need to sit down and talk because I don’t think we’re on the same page.”

You just nodded, Bill’s calm tone abating your anger and your desire to ask whose fault it was that you weren’t eye-to-eye. You sat down on the couch facing the window on his left. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, its red hues seeping into the room, and you knew dinner at the Burrow was about to start soon.

“Firstly,” Bill said, reaching for a box of tissues on the coffee table and offering you to draw one. You reached for one but kept your face turned the other way towards the kitchen, unwilling to let Bill see you like this. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You bit your lip, mind flittering between whether or not to tell him the truth.

Eventually, after a few seconds of silence, you relented. “If I tell you, will you promise not to say anything until I’m finished?”

From the corner of your eye, Bill nodded.

“Okay.”

“You,” you mumbled quietly at first. You had decided: fuck it. If Bill was moving to Egypt, then you should just say everything that was on your mind. It wouldn’t matter if he rejected you since he was going to be miles away.

His face was pensive, eyebrows knitting and eyes squinted, like he was combing over everything that’s ever left his mouth. He laid his right arm motionless on the armrest.

“Was it… something I—?” He quickly stopped himself when you gave him an irksome glance, and he realized he’d broken your first rule of the conversation: don’t speak.

Your voice gained traction and you took advantage of the momentum to admit, “It wasn’t what you said, it was everything you didn’t say.”

“Bill,” you continued, turning your head to look at him. Everything you wanted to say, every feeling and secret you kept locked up in gold chains for the past few weeks, snapped and was spilling out like a torrent. “I know I can’t change the year I was born. And trust me, I’ve been in a right state because I can’t be older or more mature like you. I can’t change who my parents are or who I am or how we get along. I can’t be what you want. And I’ve never even considered any of this to be important or ever thought about it, but in the past week, it’s all I ever thought about, and—”

You squeezed your eyes shut and blotted your tears onto the tissue in your hand.

“When I think about why, it always loops back around to you. Because you’re all I can think about now. It pains me to be something you don’t want, like I’m a puzzle piece that doesn’t belong. And it pains me that I matter so little to you that you can’t even share what goes on in your life with me. And it’s alright if you don’t feel the same way, but it’s taken such a toll on me, knowing you don’t care about me the way I care about you.”

Bill remained silent, his lips pressed tightly together. His hands were unmoving.

“Okay, I’m done,” you added quietly after taking a deep breath. You still couldn’t muster the courage to face him.

At the same time, Bill exhaled. “I don’t know what to respond to first,” he admitted. “But let’s go one by one, okay?”

Your body tensed. You liked talking a mile a minute, hoping that Bill would forget the barrage of words you hurled at him; Bill wanted to break everything down gently. Now, everything was in his hands and he could steer the conversation either way. You were dying for some semblance of your feelings being returned, but you were mainly preparing to be let down. At best, you would get closure before he left.

You sniffed, lips curving downwards, and nodded.

“Firstly, there’s no need to change yourself,” Bill reminded. “You are lovely the way you are.”

“That’s not true,” you said with a shake of your head. “I’ve only shown you the worst parts of me, well, the real parts which are also the worst parts. For example, you’ve always talked so lovingly about your family. I’ve only talked mine down.”

“On the contrary,” Bill stated. “I think you have an excellent relationship with your family.” Bill shuffled slightly closer to you, trying to get you to look at him. “But tell me, (Y/N), what is this sudden fixation on our families?”

“I—you,” you stuttered, both at Bill’s inching closer towards you and the unabashed words that you were going to say, “you think it’s important, so it’s important to me.”

Bill chuckled. “People can be close to their family in different ways.”

“Can they?”

He nodded. “Have Fred and George told you? Mum was more upset than I’d ever seen her when they dropped out of school just months shy of finishing. She scolded them that entire week, then turned around to tell the neighbours how brilliant her boys were, the unconventional route they took and their success and all.”

He added, “She tells me women are turned off by my hair and earrings, then the same afternoon, tells her friends at her sewing club that I’m England’s most eligible bachelor. Doesn’t make any sense, really.”

You let out a nasally laugh that was more akin to a snort. “Really?”

“Really!” Bill affirmed with a smile. “You never know what your parents are saying behind your back.” He tilted his head, trying to see more of your face. “In France, your dad wouldn’t stop talking about you during the golf course. I thought he was boasting to your uncle Theodore as a game strategy, but he’d say the same to me in between holes.”

Bill continued on. “Draco told me you always stood up for him in front of your parents, and to his estranged lover.”

“Estranged—?”

“Pansy, I think her name was?” Bill filled in. “He was really mumbling the words out. Reckon he didn’t want to admit it.”

“Oh, right,” you said with a laugh. “She was a lot. Still a lot. Still in love with him.”

“You’ve had it harder than me, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love your family,” Bill stated. Then his tone bordered on teasing. “And (Y/N), there are other qualities I like in a woman, not just their relationship with family. I hope I’m not that one-dimensional.”

“I can imagine!” you sputtered, spinning around. “It was the only thing you told me and the only thing I had to go off of. I tried extrapolating the rest, but…”

You stopped talking when you realized Bill had your gaze in a headlock. That look in his eyes had you weak, some form of genuine curiosity and tenderness sparking in them. It was dangerous. It beckoned you to answer any question he asked.

“And what did you come up with?” he asked.

You grinded your teeth behind your sealed mouth. It was best to just say it, having already gone far past the point of no return. Still, you couldn’t help but feel mortified.

“I’d imagined you with a more mature woman. Someone who holds their liquor and doesn’t need assistance down the steps after a wedding. I’m the same age as Fred and George. They’re your younger brothers. Surely, you think of me the same.”

“I mean, yes, you are the same age, but I don’t think of you as a younger sister,” Bill explained. He scoffed before saying, “I mean, that would be unsettling if I did because—”

“Because?”

Bill’s lips suddenly quirked up into a sheepish grin. It was now his turn to be reluctant and quiet. His blue eyes shifted to a random corner of the room.

“Because what?” you fished, your palm flat on the couch in anticipation. Inside, your heart was erratic, pounding against your chest. You just needed to hear the right words to push you over the edge.

“I do fancy you.”

You jaw lowered slightly. Did you hear that right? He did fancy you. Suddenly, you were floating. Your ears were ringing, blood was rushing through your brain, euphoria cycling through your veins, and you felt almost delightfully faint. He didn’t just say that, did he? You were definitely imagining it. But you couldn’t have been, given how Bill’s face, and the flush of red by his ears, slowly dappling his cheeks over his freckles, was so clear.

“Can you say that again?”

Bill burst into laughter at your reaction. “It was hard enough the first time.” He remarked the pleading expression on your face before obliging. “(Y/N), I do fancy you quite a bit. I hope it was more obvious than not.”

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up,” you whispered. “Because it would kill me if you didn’t feel the same.”

“Do you remember what we said when we were at the shop, planning out,” he used air quotes, “our future?”

“What part of it?”

“When I said familiarity was uneasy.”

“Yes.” You could recall that perfectly. It was when he asked you why you didn’t choose his brothers to play out your schemes with.

“I’m glad we met under the pretenses we did,” Bill recalled. “We were able to show each other everything, no secrets or lies. And like I thought, there was nothing bad about you to uncover anyway.”

“I’m glad,” you sighed, feeling the last bit of stress dissipating from your body. “Because I thought I’d lost you for the same reason.”

Bill cleared his throat. “So, your age matters little to me. What matters to me is that you are intelligent, kind, and delightfully mischievous with your schemes,” the corner of his lip crooked up into a smile, “not to mention, you are really quite beautiful.”

Your eyes softened and your heart was beating erratically against your chest; you were just elated that Bill loved parts of you that you didn’t think he did.

Well, that was before he added, “And how could I forget? I do love your tendency to enjoy debauchery in the form of books.”

“Will you,” you grabbed a pillow beside you, “stop bringing,” and chucked it at Bill, “that up?!”

“There’s nothing wrong with that! It just means you are well-read,” Bill reasoned, evading the cushion flung his way. “If anything, learning to iron robes and how to best polish oxfords can be very useful.”

You gave him a pointed look.

“Not that I expect you to know,” he clarified quickly, horrified at how you could’ve interpreted it. He pointed to his chest. “I was keeping it in mind for myself.”

“You better not!” you chided, though a wide grin was breaking out across your face. You didn’t look intimidating in the slightest.

With Bill’s joke dispelling the tension, the air cleared enough to ask him another question, another itch only his words could scratch. “If it wasn’t my age, or my family, or even me, then what was, or is, stopping you from...?”

“I…” Bill trailed off. “You know, it’s never a good idea to get into one relationship too quickly after another. You could be using someone to satisfy a void.”

“Right,” you agreed without thinking. But what did you know? Bill had been previously committed, and you’d never been attached to anyone past three dates.

“I’m human, I’ve made mistakes, I try to learn from them.” His fingers ghosted over your temple before brushing a renegade hair from your face. “It would be unfair to drag you into something because I was selfish and unsure.”

“But it’s been almost a year now, surely?” you said. “I thought most people did this rebounding thing right after. I’m not saying it means you should be ready, I’ve just heard—”

“I know, I know,” he agreed. “But you’re just,” he stopped, looking down at you with a gentle and lopsided smile that made your legs wobbly, “something I wanted to take my time with. I don't know if I could live with myself if I hurt you in the slightest.”

You pressed, “Has your opinion changed at all? Since then?”

Bill grinned. “Of course it has.”

You felt more at ease now. “What’s changed it?”

“I missed you in the days we were apart. I really did, (Y/N).” His face showed calm but there was something frantic in his pulse, his words, his entire being. “All summer, Gringrotts wrote to me and wanted me to stay in Egypt as I was doing a fairly good job over there. The European branches sent Fleur to convince me to move to Belgium instead. But when I came home, I realized I missed being with my family.”

You listened wordlessly, wonderstruck at the fact that someone like Bill Weasley existed.

“With mum and dad getting older, I knew I needed to stay home and take care of them if anything happened. They’ve already lost Charlie to Romania and Percy to the Ministry.” He ended the statement with a chuckle.

“Bill, that is so very considerate of you,” you spoke through shallow breaths, “but after all this, you’re still moving?”

“Yes, but it’s not very far away.”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Egypt is over three-thousand miles from here.”

“Egypt?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Where did you hear I was moving to Egypt?”

“From George, I—”

“I mean, I was considering it, but I’ve ultimately decided to stay here.” He pointed down with his index finger. “Shell Cottage is a very easy floo away from home.” Then, with an impish smile, he added, “But you know, my family wasn’t the only thing anchoring me.”

“It wasn't?”

A serious expression eclipsed Bill’s face. “I thought of you.”

He thought of you.

“You seem to have an influence over my decisions.” Bill leaned over and in a near whisper, continued. “I thought that if there was any chance that if we,” he looked right at you, “worked out in any sense, me being in Egypt would not make anything easier.”

“Why would we not work out?” you said, apprehension creeping in your voice. If Bill expressed any doubt this far in the conversation, you weren’t sure how you’d take it. He couldn’t take back a confession, he just couldn’t.

“(Y/N), you have to admit,” Bill began, catching your gaze again. You felt your heart stutter at his intense look and those mesmerizing baby blues. “It’s been confusing for me, too. You chose me as your fake lover based on things you were opposed to: my hair, tattoos, my age. Especially my age, I’ve heard. How was I supposed to ask you about it?”

“What?” you blurted out. “Bill, I adore the first two things and I’ve stopped thinking about how old you were. It never even crosses my mind anymore unless someone is bringing it up.”

You took one of his larger hands, heart swelling at how natural it felt, and urged him to look at you. You were trying to convey your thoughts earnestly through touch, like your hands were intertwined with his heart.

“The goal was to make my parents upset, and I thought it worked but it turns out they really like you, especially the golf abilities you’ve kept hidden for thirty years,” you admitted. You reached out to gingerly stroke Bill’s hair, the short locks softly sliding past your fingers. “I truthfully adore all these things: your long hair, tattoos, piercings. And if it were up to me, you’d never cut your hair again.”

“Shame,” he said. “I was starting to like the length. It’s rather airy in the summer.”

“Just the summer, then. I’m willing to negotiate.” You pointed to the fang earring. “But this,” you gently touched it with your free hand, “is non-negotiable. In fact, you could use another piercing or two.”

“Noted,” Bill responded.

“And please, keep these rings,” you mumbled, your fingers falling to admire the bands of silver taut on his fingers. Your voice was now barely audible as you whispered to yourself, “This is quite literally the most attractive thing I’ve seen on a man.”

“What was that?” Bill asked, leaning in unbearably close now. You felt a spark on your lips where was looking.

“Nothing, I, er,” you fumbled, trying to redirect his attention. When you looked up, you saw it: the last object of your adoration. It was his eyes – those blue lifelines to his heart. You leaned in, just inches away from him and the closest you’d ever been, and placed a hand softly on his face, unknowingly flittering over a scar. “Your eyes are beautiful, I… there are no words to describe them.”

He brushed a loose strand of your back and tucked it behind your ear. “Then don’t.”

That was all he said before he closed the short distance between you. Your heart soared when you felt the rougher texture of his lips on your soft ones. You knew at the very least, you had to close your eyes like he had, but you wanted to see him for just another second. You wanted to soak in Bill like he was the sea, let him wash over every sense—sight, touch, taste—you had.

Bill was gentle, gradually easing you into the kiss, giving you air when he felt you needed it. The thing was that you didn’t need air, you just needed more of him. He chuckled when he felt you nudging him closer.

Half of you knew he was physically here, while the half was wondering if you were in some daydream. So, you treaded along precariously, trying not to disturb this lucid dream you found yourself in. Merlin knew how much you would’ve given to kiss Bill Weasley just a month ago.

You drifted from the kiss slowly to confirm something. “So, does this mean…?”

“I’d like to have you as my girlfriend, if you’d have it.” He stated it like there was any chance of hesitation on your end, which there wasn’t.

“Bill,” you exhaled with elation, letting out a relieved breath. “That’s not even a question.”

He moved both his hands to caress the back of your head, fingers tangling with your soft locks. His grip was firmer when he pulled you back towards him. Your lips met again, but this time, he deepened the kiss, was a touch more dominant than he was just seconds ago. You obliged immediately, waltzing with him in the intimate dance. Surely, you weren’t as experienced as Bill was, but he guided you perfectly, urging you to part your lips with a gentle prod of his tongue. He tilted his head to gain better access just as his hands slithered down your body. He gripped your waist firmly, and then did something that sent a shiver down your spine.

He let out a low, guttural groan.

“You are worth the wait,” he breathed huskily. “You’ve been driving me insane for months, (Y/N).”

Before you could flush even deeper at his words, he quickly pulled you over his lap so your legs were splayed out on each side of him. Your pulse grew frantic as both you and Bill shed any sense of slow and steady and replaced it with fast and vigorous. If you weren’t already overheated, you sure were now, feeling the harder parts of him against parts of you that were aching, hearing his desire for you aloud. You unknowingly grinded into him, trying to dissipate the want building. You were a mess of heat and occasionally, the clashing of teeth, which even if imperfect, spoke to the feverish pitch things were reaching.

His hands travelled past the hem of your skirt, doting the back of your thighs until they were positioned on your rear. He kneaded the soft skin and it was your turn to groan.

Bill’s eyes darkened slightly as you straddled his lap. His fingers tightened on your skin until you were sure they’d leave red marks. “I’m a man, (Y/N). I have my own urges to act upon, but.”

“But?” you asked, feeling whiplashed at Bill’s sudden stop.

“But, I do think I should take you somewhere nice first.” He slicked his hair back and tilted his head up to look at you. “That’s only proper, isn’t it?”

“I suppose?” you responded with an inflection, your heart fluttering in hummingbird beats, much too fast to speak coherently. You still felt like you’d ascended to the heavens, your mind in a state so blissful and delirious that you were half-responding to Bill. “I don’t mind either way, really, I…”

“Alright,” Bill agreed. “Then we’ll sort out how you’d like to proceed after the dinner I promised mum to go to.”

“The dinner,” you repeated. You’d forgotten all about it in the heat of things. You were just overjoyed it wasn’t a farewell dinner for Bill. “I can wait until you’re back.”

“What are you talking about?” he questioned with a laugh. He pushed himself off the couch with you in tow and your legs wrapped around his waist. “We’re going to the dinner.” Then he leaned in again, his breath fanning your face. “Together.”

“Are you sure?” you asked shyly, nervous at the prospect of facing the entire Weasley family and more. “I mean, a family dinner. It seems like a big thing, doesn’t it?”

With Bill hoisting you up, you were finally taller than him. You were privy to things you didn’t normally get to see, like how his long lashes framed his eyes, how sturdy the bridge of his nose was, and how tempting his lips looked pulled into a smirk. If you had a say, you’d forego the dinner and kiss him all night instead.

“You took me to one,” he countered.

“Under false pretenses,” you said, scrunching your face up.

“Okay, consider this a family dinner that is actually entirely truthful. This is a second chance to do things right and not lie about anything.”

“Who said I was lying about anything?” you snickered. “Maybe I do want seven children and to never retire and to fly around in the Ford Anglia everywhere.”

Bill shook his head. “I don’t think anyone would be happy with oil leaking from the sky. Kingsley would tax you for environmental damages under the new green law.” He tossed a wink your way, knowing exactly how to counteract your sarcasm, and said, “But I would be happy to oblige your other requests.”

“No!” you yelped, clasping your hands over your mouth. The thought of the rest of your life inundated by seven kids and little Freds and Georges clinging to your sides was a nightmare. How did Molly do it? Bill was forcing himself not to laugh. You knew he was only joking, but you couldn’t help but give him a little slap on the arm.

You looked directly at him. “In all seriousness, should we tell them one-by-one?” you asked.

“What about?”

“About us,” you responded. “We shouldn’t give your mother a heart attack.”

“(Y/N),” Bill assured with a breath-taking smile, spinning you around in his arms. The look on his face was luminous. He really was the sun that broke the storm. “We’re going to tell the whole world tonight.”

Epilogue

Standing on the hilly and grassy entrance of the Burrow, Bill was appraising you with concern. He could sense the rigidity in your body as he held your hand.

“How are you feeling, love?”

“Relieved and nervous,” you explained. “Relieved because this isn’t your farewell party. Nervous because it’s your family.”

“You know my family,” Bill reminded. “There is nothing to worry about.”

“Are you completely certain this is a good idea?” you asked. “I don’t want to overwhelm them.”

“I’ve never had a bad idea,” he boasted with a toothy smile.

Bill pushed the creaky wooden door open for you, his hand still clasped on yours, unwilling to let go of your fingers in case you wanted to escape. He ducked under the doorframe as he entered. You followed him into the Burrow—Bill’s childhood home. You’ve been here before but this just felt different, like you were now a part of the family and not just an extension of it. You shied away, thinking Molly would be right there. She wasn’t. You saw Percy in the living room, turned away and nose in a book. Charlie, who you were surprised to see had returned from Romania, was pouring himself beer from the pitcher. Molly was snipping herbs from her potted plant by the windowsill, oblivious to your arrival.

Charlie was the first to look up, being the closest to you, at you and your hands intertwined. A slow, devious, and somewhat knowing smile creeped up on his face. Bill shushed him and Charlie covered his mouth with his free hand. Of course, Charlie remained silent, tempted to see how his mother would react.

“Hi, mum,” Bill called from across the room.

“Bill, darling,” she responded offhandedly, preoccupied by the finishing touches she was putting on her vegetable roast. She was slow to turn around, more focused on carrying a heavy dish with her oven mitts. And when she did, her eyes landed on your faces first.

“(Y/N)!” she called. “How nice of you to bring her, Bill.”

Her eyes were still locked on your face and hadn’t made the connection. Your breath caught when Molly’s eyes began trailing downwards in what felt like an eternity.

You didn’t know what to expect, but you didn’t expect to cause such a scene. Molly literally dropped her dish on the floor at the sight of your hand in Bill’s. The ceramic dish shattered and the vegetable roast flew in all directions. Percy jolted from his position on the couch, his cry overshadowed by the stew boiling over and the kettle wailing beside it.

“I knew it!” she exclaimed. She seemed so flustered she didn’t know which way to go—to embrace you or to clean up the mess on the floor or to turn off the stove with the overflowing stew. “I had my suspicions, oh, I—”

In desperation, she called out for her husband to help with one of those tasks. “Arthur!”

He quickly ran in, cheeks rosy, and out of breath.

“What’s the danger?” he panted, looking left and right.

“Oh, Arthur!” Molly exclaimed with a roll of her eyes, her hand on her hip. “There’s no danger.” She pointed to where you stood. Arthur, still unaware, looked over. Bill raised your hand and gave it a little shake. Molly couldn’t control her excitement, so she ran over. You imagined she was tumbling towards Bill, but she chose you instead. You let go of Bill’s hands to hug her.

“My future daughter-in-law!” she exclaimed, patting your cheeks. “Oh, I knew it! I just knew it. You are just so perfect for my Bill.”

“I think that’s an approval from mum,” Bill said to Charlie who was standing offside.

“She’s already making Christmas sweaters for your children,” Charlie teased with a snicker.

“Bill! Come and help me with the vegetables,” Molly commanded, sending over an apron from the closet that was likely too small for him.

Bill looked at the flimsy piece of fabric in his hands. He only had a couple inches of string to work with. “Mum, I think this is Ginny’s—”

Then, Molly pointed to her spilt dish. “Arthur, sweetie, clean this up. And (Y/N),” she guided you by the shoulders and towards the couch where Percy was, “you just sit here and Percy will bring you a beverage.”

“I told you, mum’s a modern feminist,” Bill said to you with a wink. He managed to get a tiny knot from the apron. “How do I look?”

“You look fit,” you complimented. The tiny apron was accentuating all the right muscles. “And in regards to your mother, rightfully so. Millicent be damned.”

“I’m not opposed to her tips in the later chapters,” Bill added with a smirk, causing your face to flush.

“I’ve read it so many times, I have it memorized,” you assured. “You’ll have to find out later.” Bill’s mouth rounded in surprise first, not used to this side of you, before morphing into a more smouldering expression.

“Hey!” Charlie interjected from across the room. “Just because you’re together doesn't mean we all have to be subject to this.”

“You’ve read this book, Charlie?” Bill asked, steering his brother away. “Let me tell you all about (Y/N)’s favourite author…”

“Watch it,” you whispered in the most intimidating tone you could muster.

Bill quickly spring into action with his mother who was appraising his domestic skills. You admired his tall figure, his fingers lithely paring a potato with a peeler.

Bill’s tall figure was quickly replaced by Percy, who looked abashed as he brought a beer over to you.

“I….”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. “I know. I’m a selfish person, I’m working on it.”

“You’re not selfish. I shouldn’t have jumped to assumptions,” he conceded. “It’s a bad habit of mine.”

“It’s not,” you reassured.

Percy nodded and let a moment of silence linger over you before asking, “Say, how did you arrange that meeting with Rookwood?”

“Would you like to know?” you said with a smile. “I can set you up.”

At dinner, Bill sat beside you. You didn’t need much integrating or any introductions; you’d been here already and there was already a seat for you. Occasionally and to your pleasure, he’d take your hand under the dinner table, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“So,” Molly started as she sat down. She looked directly at you two. “I’d like to know this happened.”

Neither you or Bill could contain your laughter, given the wild story you were about to tell. You were the first to recover, and slowly, you began, “It started, around a table just like this…”

After dinner and dessert was had, you and Bill departed for the backyard. You were swinging with him on a hammock, away from the commotion inside, and watching the stars. They were exceptionally clear tonight, or maybe it was that being with Bill made the world slightly brighter.

“Bill?” you asked, snuggling in closer to him to shield yourself from the cold.

He turned to you. “Hm?”

“You’re coming to Nice next year, too?”

“Of course,” he responded, like there wasn’t even a flicker of doubt.

“And the next?”

“And the next,” he affirmed. “I wouldn’t even question it.”

“Good,” you said with a blissful sigh.

Under the starry night, you counted your blessings and thanked the heavens as you soaked Bill in. After days and weeks of fluxing emotions, he’d made it clear tonight: he was yours, yours for the rest of your life if you made sure of it.

Unbeknownst to you, the twins sat on the couch inside murmuring amongst themselves.

“You cheated,” Fred accused. “He wasn’t going to Egypt anyway.”

“That wasn’t one of the rules, Freddie. It’s not like I made them kiss or anything,” George said with a shrug. “I only accelerated what was going to eventually happen.”

Fred cursed under his breath as he gave George galleons he lost. That was a good whole month of pay, all gone!

“I thought she’d be a little more resilient than that.”

“Hm, shows you don’t know her that well,” George said with a smirk, depositing the money in his pockets.

“I hate to say that it was well-played, but poor (Y/N). You did a number to her heart there.” Fred said with a pout. “I think she really thought he was moving to Egypt.”

“Now our poor sweet (Y/N), stolen by the treacherous grasp of our eldest brother,” George lamented.

“Not like she would’ve chosen you anyway.”

Fred placed his hand over his heart, offended. “Nor would she you.” Then he leaned back on the couch, watching you from outside the window, swaying on the hammock with Bill. You’d been out there for almost an hour.

George spun the gleaming gallon on the table.

“Now, next on the list of affairs to bet on: when’s the wedding?”

<<CHAPTER DIRECTORY (READ IT AGAIN!)

TAGLIST: @inpraizeof @milkiane @lovesanimals0000 @alisslahey @milfodyssey @itscheybaby @lookingthroughmirrors @stiles-argent24@aki-ham @my-current-fandom-is @salvatoremuse @nimue-lady-of-the-lake @agathne @benbarnesismybaby@bangbaang @venus-d-vinyl @lexxxtacyyy @pink-hufflepuff @unicornicopia1@itsrhyann@awesomeowlbook @bamboozledflamplant @howpeculier @jaix-8102 @vilentia @sophneedsfandoms @dontbesuspiciousss @sugarrush-blush@actuallyade @thatgoodolswitcharoo @kakorrhaphiphobia @cigaretttes-aftersex @pandoraneverland @theluvcafe@eternally-ineffable@winterishfallinknowledge @tygecjjd @southernraven @roroswitherose

#bill weasley x you #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley imagine #bill weasley x y/n

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doctorcorby · 23 days

Text

In Justice We Trust (72401 words) by thesavagesabretooth

catch up here

With Simon Blackquill and Athena Cykes assigned as their psychologists, the Phantom and Fulbright must grapple with their identity, their deeds, their future, and their love for the twisted samurai whom they betrayed.

All the while, Edgeworth and Wright find their relationship tested as they walk the narrow path between pursuing real justice, and the dark age of the law.

December 24th, 8:00 pm

14 hours of travel time, and jet lag, and a day that was swiftly moving toward its 24th hour of wakefulness clouded Simon's mind and made the whole proceedings feel like some kind of waking dream.

He was glad that Athena was going to stay the night– he couldn't bear to have been in the room alone with Halblicht– with Bobby. Not now. Not with all of the confused things going through his mind. He was deeply torn, part of him wanting to embrace and accept the return of the man he'd spent his year with– the other part now even more deeply wounded and skeptical that things could ever be alright again.

Just because Bobby was real– in some strange and twisted way, as a part of the Phantom's mind– didn't mean that Simon had it in him to forgive him. Did it?

He took deep breaths, in and out, trying both to calm himself and to focus on what was important as he listened to Athena get into the weeds with Halblicht.

Athena was looking bad, despite her ever present smile. The dark circles under her eyes spoke to her exhaustion as she tapped away at the screen.

“I’d like to loop back to your…training, if that’s okay.”

Bobby ran his fingers through his hair, and nodded. "I'm not surprised. I'll try to help Robert answer where I can."

“Thanks Bobby. I know it can’t be easy…unpacking trauma never is…you saw how messy it was for me during the trial, yeah? I understand.” She was quiet for a moment before she snapped out enough to ask her first question. “He wasn’t given a name, and in court he spoke about how he’d ‘discarded’ his identity…that he was an abyss. I want you to elaborate on that…”

"Left them behind," Bobby murmured, rubbing his arm thoughtfully. "He said that he left them behind. It wasn't really something he had a choice in, whether he wants me to tell you that or not. He's not even sure if he ever had an identity to begin with."

“The people who ran the organization…correct me if I’m wrong, but…given they didn’t give him a name it’s safe to assume they were trying to tell him since as long as he could remember that he didn’t have a personality? Emotions…any of that?”

"Yes," Bobby nodded, twisting his hands in his lap. "They punished him for expressing any kind of emotion aside from blind obedience. They… miss Athena… they beat those children for giving one another nicknames."

Athena’s mouth drew a hard line, and Simon could see a flicker of something behind her tired eyes.

Maybe it was rage. Or maybe he was projecting his own feelings on her. The idea that anyone could be so monstrous made him sick.

“I see,” she said softly, “they did the same for any other attempt at individuality, however minor?”

"Yes, ma'm," he nodded again, his hands tight together. It was clear he was having trouble speaking about it, even with 'Bobby' as whatever buffer he existed for. "No possessions. No voluntary alterations of appearance. No expressing preferences, even for simple things. Food, or clothes. The punishments were… severe."

Athena’s fingers tightened on the sheets, palpable only by the way they shifted against his leg as she drew more of them into her palm.

“Horrible,” she said a moment later. “absolutely sickening…ritual abuse to turn children into tools of war and espionage. By…stamping down individuality, they wanted to create someone who could become anyone, c-correct?”

Simon watched with disgust and curiosity as Halblicht's posture changed and his expression smoothed. He looked off into the middle distance. "That was the goal. To create weapons, and tools. That's what we were told. That we were not people, we were tools. 'You're no one'."

“You’re no one.” Athena echoed hollowly as her fist closed tight around the handful of sheets. “Do you remember anything before them? Before they tried…tried to turn you into a tool?”

"I do not," he said, impassively, shaking his head. "The earliest memory I can recall is being in the back of a truck with several other children, and then marched into a building through a concrete hallway."

"How old?" Simon asked, eyes narrowing on him. It was evil. It was impossibly evil. No wonder it resulted in creating evil… Treating children like they were tools as if they were nothing more than a robot who could hold a gun.

Robert shook his head again. "I have no idea how to judge that. We were small. Maybe four? Maybe six? I suppose I could have been as old as eight at that point."

Athena made an involuntary noise…horror, a quiet intake of breath before she managed to ask another question.

“It’s no wonder. It’s no wonder you called yourself the abyss. Taking children and beating the very identity out of them, in the formative years of your lives.They saw you as nothing but a tool, something to point and shoot, or sent to retrieve. It’s no wonder you felt you were no one.”

Her breath hissed audibly between her teeth “put through so much, so young, by the real evil. True, genuine evil.”

Robert shrugged. "People do whatever they think will facilitate their goals. Evil or good are abstract. These people wanted weapons, so they created them. Children were only the raw materials. Some children are raised to be people. I was raised to be a tool, that's all."

Athena’s eyes flicked down to the screen.

“Do you really believe that, Robert?” she asked in an even tone, “or is that what they told you?” WIth a soft sigh, she continued “I’ll dispense with good or evil. I’ll say what I really mean. These people are cruel. The psychological damage they inflict by their actions is immense.”

"It's only damage if you're trying to create a person, isn't it?" he murmured. "If it's a weapon you're trying to create, it's structure. It's like saying you damaged a stone by chipping it to make a statue."

Simon felt himself bristle. and he moved involuntarily forward on the bed, closer toward Halbricht.

"That's rubbish! Complete rot! A child isn't a stone to be shaped as seen fit!"

Halblicht winced, and looked up with a watery, apologetic expression. "I think it's how he copes with what happened… by telling himself that it doesn't matter. That he doesn't matter. I think it's easy since it's always what he's been told…"

“It’s a coping mechanism,” Athena suddenly said. Despite the watery look in her eyes, her outward expression was soft and quiet as her voice “but it’s not a good one. Not in the long term. It’ll only reinforce what they’ve done to him.”

She raised her hand to her chest.

“Robert…we all come into this world as people. Some of us are stranger than others, some of us are ‘chipped’ or molded by others or circumstance…or in the case of your handlers…abject cruelty. But they cannot turn a person into a tool, not completely.”

Slowly she reached her hand through the screen, disrupting the mood matrix as she gestured towards him. “There’s always going to be something lingering, trying to break back through. Think logically…don’t respond with their words…have you felt something like that since you’ve gained a little autonomy from them and theirs? Anything? Emotions, desires, tastes…anything?”

Halblicht's face returned to the impassive, distant expression. But Simon watched him put his fingers gently on the buttons of his shirt and toy with them.

"Four nights ago you exposed my fear for everyone to see, Ms. Cykes. Why do you think someone like me would even be afraid to die?"

Simon felt like he had been stabbed in the chest by the sheer weight of hearing the Phantom's admission.

Was this why he held on so hard to being Bobby Fulbright? Because he'd actually been able to enjoy himself?

“Because you have,” Athena’s hand lowered to her knee. “The only reason to fear death is when you have something to hold on to…and it’s clear you’re more than what they created. People aren’t tools, no matter how hard they try to make it so.”

Her brow furrowed as she continued. “You’ll need to face that if you want to heal. You can’t heal from damage you pretend isn’t there. You matter. You’re a person, with feelings that we could register even during the trial, feelings that make you fear death and lead you to your own choices no matter how much they tried to stop you.”

Simon couldn't breathe. Suddenly the murder of Metis Cykes was no longer the deliberate and wicked choice of an evil man. At least– not the one sitting in front of him. Suddenly it was the action of a man who had no choice at all. Who had never had a choice.

If someone had used Ponco to commit a murder– would that murder be Ponco's fault? Where does blame lie when you've raised a child as an obedient killer?

Had this man truly never experienced a moment of affection in his life before– before Simon himself? Was it not, as he'd believed when they started their relationship, one love-starved prisoner seeking out someone he could touch, but two prisoners instead?

If it was a lie, it was a good one. It was the only one that could possibly have tugged at Simon's heart.

Then Phantom was hanging his head down, staring at the floor.

"I don't understand, Ms. Cykes. Why would you want to help me? Why would you want me to be a person?"

The mood matrix flickered off before her with a wave of her hand, removing the obscuring wall of holographic imagery and leaving just Athena Cykes and himself sitting there on the bed opposite ‘the Phantom’.

“Robert.” Her voice rose above its soft spoken tone to emphasize the name…pointedly. Simon saw her hands shaking. “Why wouldn’t I want you to be a person? Nobody deserves to be a tool. I don’t want that…my mother wouldn’t have wanted it either. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re not a person…to think of yourself as a machine. Maybe it’s that. Maybe I want to prove your creators wrong. Or maybe it’s just…the kind thing to do for someone starved for kindness…no matter what they’ve done to me personally. I don’t know, exactly…but I know I’ll keep helping.”

Athena's words hung in the air in silence for a moment.

"You'll help me," he said again, incredulously. His chest spasmed in what might have been a silent laugh, or a shudder of disbelief. "I killed your mother, and you want to help me. That's insane. And I guess Bobby's right– I guess I'm insane too. Because I actually believe you."

Insane. The phantom was right. It was completely insane that either one of them could move past the evil he had done them– the life he had so carelessly snuffed out and thrown their lives into chao– it was unthinkable that they could want to help him.

So damn it, why did Simon want to help him, too? Why did he want to pull the man who had ended Metis Cykes life– who had snuffed out another young life less than a week ago– into a hug and never let him go?

Simon started to laugh too, and he slapped the bed unable to catch his breath. "What a joke on all of us. What a wretched jest we're party to. You'd better understand this, Half Bright— Athena isn't the only one who wants to help you. Justitia help me."

Maybe it was infectious, because Athena’s shoulder shook in a quiet and desperate laugh of her own.

“A joke…maybe.” She pressed her hand to her face, before she pushed her hair away and smiled in Simon’s direction. He could see there was pride there, and some kind of hope in her expression.

The phantom's shoulders shook, his hand still clutching the buttons of his shirt like he was clutching at his heart. Was he laughing, or crying? Simon heard nothing but a wheezing breath from him, and he saw no tears. But it could have been either, or both.

Halblicht steadied after a moment too, and looked up at Simon. "You really want to help me as well, Simon?"

"So it would seem. No one is more surprised than me." Simon caught his own breath, and he smiled helplessly over at Athena. "I guess we had that breakthrough that I called you in for, Ms. Cykes."

Athena seemed to sigh with relief, before wiping at her eyes with a laugh. “All the best breakthroughs happen when everyone’s overly exhausted, Simon. That’s just a fact.”

It was also, probably, a lie.

"Oh yes, that's just obvious," Simon nodded along, sarcastically. "Insanity and nonsense suddenly make the most sense when you're completely wiped out."

Now Simon heard the familiar sound of the absurd sniffling that always came before Bobby started to sob. Halblicht pushed up his glasses, and tears ran down his face.

"Ms. Cykes, Prosecutor Blackquill– I– I don't know what to say," Bobby– it was obviously Bobby again now– whimpered. "We don't deserve such overwhelming kindness from you. It would be justice just to throw us away but… but thank you so much just for listening."

Athena turned her attention back to him with a little sniff. “C-come on. I’ll start crying too!” She sniffed again “thank you both for being open with us…for being willing to accept help, y-yeah?”

Bobby nodded, still crying against his arm.

"S-sorry! I don't want to make you cry but… but it's just so much. I-I can hardly believe it, you know? And y-you even made Robert believe it too, and he doesn't t-trust anybody…"

"I can't imagine why he wouldn't," Simon drawled, blinking back his own tears. "but you'd both better believe it. Mad as it is, this is apparently the reality that we have to deal with."

He stood up suddenly, and marched over to the desk where he grabbed the box of tissues. He pulled several out of the box, and handed them to Athena, then he shoved the whole box in Halblicht's face.

"Here, Half Bright. Clean yourself up. You're a mess."

Bobby looked up at him with big, wet eyes, and it was all that Simon could do to stop himself from pulling the man into a hug.

He'd killed Metis Cykes. But now it wasn't some cold, emotionless killer who'd held the knife. It was poor, stupid Bobby Fulbright, waiting somewhere to be woken up from the nightmare he'd been born into.

Who would hurt a child like that? Who could turn someone who had a man like this in his heart into a killer? Simon found himself shaking with rage.

Athena wiped her eyes beside them, hiccuping softly as she attended to the spilling tears. He didn’t need her hearing to hear the sorrow in her voice.

“The world can be mad, you know? Cruel, too. But…but. It doesn’t have to be. I want you both to believe that we’re going to help Mr. Edgeworth put a stop to this too. I’ll defend whoever I gotta defend to make sure the truth…that justice is reached.”

"Indeed," Simon said firmly. "If you have been used as a weapon, then justice will be only be done when we apprehend the monster who dared to use you in such a way."

Bobby sniffled and pulled handfuls of tissues out of the box, wiping at his teary eyes.

"Thank you… thank you both. I'm glad… I'm glad to have your help. I've been saying this whole time to Robert that it wasn't fair what they did to him… that it wasn't just…it's awful to see what happened. I want to bring those people to justice with you. We want to."

Athena reached out a hand towards them, her smile tentative and kind. “And we will. You will. That’s a promise, alright?”

"Thank you…" He wiped his eyes with one arm, and shaking, reached out and put his hand on hers. "It's a promise."

"A promise." Simon put his hand on top of both of theirs, and squeezed. "Some sort of dark pact, even."

He huffed a laugh, but, mad as it was, it seemed like some kind of new beginning. Of what, he didn't know.

December 24th, 9:40 pm

They talked for a while longer, in murmured, exhausted voices, going over the things they'd already said, without breaking much new ground. Robert was quiet, while Bobby continually thanked them, and apologized. Simon's emotions were so omnipresent and confused that Athena could barely hear herself think.

Finally, Simon had insisted that they had to at least try to get some sleep for the investigation in the morning, and that had caused another discussion. Not quite an argument. Each of them volunteered to sleep on the floor. And none of them would allow the others to do so.

Finally, exhausted and clearly manic, Simon had laughed, and suggested they just all sleep on the bed in their clothes 'like an anime convention.' He had promised to get Bobby an iron for his 'poor, wrinkled shirt' in the morning.

Which was exactly how Athena found herself laying there on the right side of Simon Blackquill, staring at the darkened ceiling with her thoughts ticking away like the seconds and the sound of the two men’s breathing played at the edge of her hearing as all else tuned out.

Thoughts of the therapy session played in her mind…the stories of the facility he grew up in, the other children…the deliberate suppression of individualization and emotion. A person they tried to turn into a machine. The very thought made her sick, the horror twisting inside her before spilling into the darkness of her internal matrix.

She remembered the little conversation outside the restaurant after dinner. The moment they met eyes and he whispered understanding to her. What was it like for him? What did it say about her that he could recognize her like that.

Their circumstances were so different…he was forged, raised by that horrible and abusive ‘organization’. Trained to suppress emotion until he became the man who killed her mother over a rock…the man who felt, but knew he wasn’t allowed to so he forced them down as his handlers demanded…to the point where he had no idea how to process them.

If not for Bobby Fulbright. The smiling, emotional, kind hearted goofball who’d endeared himself to everyone around him. A man who was still, somehow, around despite everything. A part of Robert through psychology or fate, she supposed.

But it wasn’t Bobby who recognized something behind her eyes…it was Robert, the phantom. He was the one who quietly understood her in the cold street outside the restaurant, who shared that moment of comforting silence despite the din of words.

Where he was created by cruel and horrible hands, she was born…different. Her emotions had always felt hard to reach, quiet and subtle to the point of becoming drowned out by any outside stimulus. Her miraculous hearing backfired into a curse, distancing her from the ability to feel her own emotions while othering herself from anyone outside Cosmos save for Junie.

At times, she’d thought of herself as another robot like her ‘brother and sister’ Ponco and Clonco…at times she wondered if any of her feelings were real at all.

Maybe that’s what Robert had recognized in her. The use of masks, and the use of exaggeration to show the world the same quiet, muted pulse in your own heart in a way that they could understand. Even if it wore you down. Even if it sometimes felt like too much, at least they’d understand.

Maybe she did relate to her mother’s killer…and maybe that’s why Aura had hated her for so long.

As she shifted to look over at the two men while they slept, she smiled faintly in the dark. Maybe that was why she wanted to help him so badly…outside the sympathy and the fury at those who’d made him and who’d truly taken her mother’s life. Maybe he was a kindred spirit.

December 24, 9:40 pm

Simon lay awake, still and quiet with his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. He felt the warmth radiating from each of the bodies beside him– the lithe form of Athena on his one side, and the solidly built body belonging to Bobby Fulbright– and whoever else– on his other. He lay stiffly, unable to fully avoid touching the other man, but unwilling to give in to his impulse to wrap his arms around him from behind.

So, Simon had never known the real man Bobby Fulbright. He had thought, when that revelation came to light, that it meant that everything he had known for a year had been an elaborate lie, a falsehood, an act and a put-on without any true feeling or meaning behind it. Simply a manipulation of his own feelings.

But now it seemed that wasn't exactly the case. He had no reason to doubt Athena's skill and her judgment. If she believed what they were hearing from Halblicht, then it must be true.

The man he had known as 'Bobby Fulbright' existed– as a mental construct separated from the broken mind of a tormented victim of horrific abuse. The same victim of horrific abuse who had killed his mentor. Who had murdered Athena's mother Metis in the coldest of blood.

So where did that leave Simon? What did that mean for him? If there was even a part of this man who had felt something for him, who had held him in the darkness when Simon was at his lowest point, how could he reject that? He kept imagining Bobby as a child, huddled and afraid in a cement room, beaten and starved for daring to show a smile out of turn.

Treatment like that would break the spirit– destroy the very soul– of a grown and strong man. What would it do to a small child?

Turn them into something like the Phantom, who could barely register an emotion. Who could only safely show emotion by projecting it on someone else, on 'Bobby'.

Even if it wasn't exactly Bobby huddled in that horrible room, suffering that terrible torment as a child– even if Bobby was new, and the one who had suffered was 'Robert', was the Phantom, was Metis Cykes killer– the rage and pity and compassion for that child that stirred in his heart was the same.

If that experience was true– and Athena believed it, which meant Simon believed it– how could he carry on the hate in his heart for Metis' killer? How could it be anything more than a tragic and disgusting accident perpetrated by a man who had no choice? Could Simon actually move past the fact that this man had killed Metis, had traumatized Athena and forced her to grow up an orphan, had sent Simon himself to death row for so many long years, had driven his sister to the brink?

Could he forgive him?

Would Metis want him to forgive him?

If Ponco had killed her, would Metis want Ponco held responsible? Would Simon have hated the robot just doing what it was told?

The conflict roiled and rolled in Simon's heart. His fury and disgust raged within him, but rather than being pointed at the Phantom, now they were aimed squarely at the ones who had done such a thing to a child. Had stripped him bare and broken him of his humanity. It made Simon want to cry. It made him want to pull Bobby into his arms and hold him– hold him until maybe even Robert– the man who had killed Metis Cykes and felt nothing– could cry. If such a thing were even possible.

If Bobby cared about him, it must mean that somewhere at his core Robert– the Phantom– cared too didn't he? Or were they completely separate? Had Robert watched passionlessly as Simon and Bobby had spent time together?

Simon wondered. Simon wondered about it all, as he lay in the dark, and he started to tug at the frayed edges of what might be clues, or what might be shadows.

Bobby Fulbright had been the one who presented the lighter as evidence. The lighter that– while it implicated Athena– would have freed Simon. Would have saved him from death row. And it put the Phantom himself in danger.

Bobby had kept promising to reform Simon. To rehabilitate him and return him to society. To save him. Had the implication of Athena, twisted and vile as it had been, been to that end? Had the Phantom decided that Simon's life was worth the risk?

Had something in Simon awakened the feelings of a man deadened inside by years of torment? Had he awakened some true feelings of care from the very man who had ripped his life to pieces?

The idea was as sickening as it was romantic.

Halblicht's chest rose and fell in the dark, and he heard him make a noise that might have been a murmur.

Simon broke, and he put his arm around him.

His thoughts chased each other like dogs through the street for a long time after, before he finally fell asleep.

#simon blackquill #bobby fulbright #athena cykes #blackbright #phantomquill #ace attorney #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #archive of our own #ao3 #darkfic #dark fic #dead dove

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inkstained-pages · 1 year

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tripping on stage and in hotel hallways

~ day 8 of daily txt drabbles ~

summary: after beomgyu's mistake on stage in their usa tour, kai is worried about him and visits him in his hotel room that night

wc: 826

tags: fluff, mild hurt/comfort, cuddling

relationship: hueningkai and beomgyu

+x+

Kai’s socked feet pad quietly across the carpeted floor of the hotel hallway. He takes his time as he walks, his mind still flip flopping between continuing his path or going back. Going back seems the easier option, the less daunting one, but even as he makes to turn around, something stops him.

The memory of Beomgyu’s wide, teary eyes shining in the stage light, the fans chants of uljima, uljima, the initial concern that bled into fear when they all learned exactly why Beomgyu started crying. Not an influx of emotions, but a real injury, their first serious mistake on stage during their first tour in the USA.

Kai grimaces as he remembers and carries on towards his hyung’s room, plushie crushed to his chest in a grounding embrace. They’ve known each other for years now, but vulnerability is never easy, even with people you’re close with. Kai doesn’t even know if Beomgyu wants to see him; it’s past midnight after all, and Beomgyu’s probably cried enough today.

Still, something in Kai is restless. It caused him to toss and turn in his bed until Soobin grumbled in his sleep, which made Kai make up his mind to leave in search of Beomgyu lest he wake their leader with all his shuffling.

The door to Beomgyu’s solo room creaks open without a fuss. Kai frowns; it should be locked. A bolt of fear flashes through him as the image of a sasaeng breaking into the room and making off with Beomgyu crosses his mind, but he pushes it away. That’s unreasonable and just his anxiety speaking.

He’s proven correct when he makes his way into the room, softly closing and locking the door behind him, and he sees Beomgyu sleeping soundly, tangled haphazardly in his sheets.

Kai bites his lip, worrying it between his teeth. He wants to climb in with his hyung, but shame prickles at the edge of his mind and he doesn’t want to seem like a clingy kid. He stands there awkwardly for half a minute, listening to the sound of Beomgyu’s steady breathing, torn once more between continuing or turning back.

In the end, it’s Beomgyu who chooses for Kai. He snuffles a little, turns onto his side, then opens his eyes and almost falls off the bed when he registers Kai standing at the foot of it. Kai races forwards to catch him before he does, and they stare at each other awkwardly for a few moments in the darkness.

“Hyuka what the fu- what are you doing in my room?” Beomgyu asks, voice slurring because he’s a bit out of it from his sudden awakening.

Kai blushes, glad for the darkness that hides his reddening face. “I uh- well I don’t really know, it was sort of spontaneous? And I couldn’t sleep, and I almost woke Soobin-hyung up! Which- bad, obviously, so I went outside and then I thought about you all by yourself and what happened today and-” he cuts himself off, looking down and wringing his hands together. He didn’t mean to bring up today’s accident, but his rambling habits have always been bad.

He curses himself, then starts when Beomgyu places a gentle hand on his head and pats him lightly.

“Ah, Huening-ah, you were worried about you hyung, huh?” He smiles, or at least Kai thinks he smiles; it’s hard to tell with all the lights off. “I’m alright, don’t worry! The medical staff took care of me, you saw them.”

“I know, I know,” Kai mutters. “Still. You’re upset about it. And you always spiral when someone leaves you alone, so I decided I shouldn’t leave you alone.”

Beomgyu’s silent for a moment, before he lets out a fond chuckle. “You’re too cute, you know that? Alright, come on then.”

“Huh?”

“Get in the bed, silly! If you’re going to be in here we might as well be sleeping. You woke me up from such a nice dream too…”

Kai scrambles up from where he’d been kneeling beside Beomgyu and climbs over his hyung into the bed. Beomgyu helps him lift up the sheets and slide under them, and then he slides an arm around Kai and pulls him flush against him. Kai wiggles around a bit until he’s comfortable, then rests his head on Beomgyu’s chest.

“Better?” Beomgyu whispers when they’re both settled.

Kai hums in affirmation and nods. “Are you really okay, hyung?”

More silence, and Kai is almost scared he made Beomgyu pull away from him, until he feels a light kiss on the top of his head.

“I am Huening-ah, I promise. I’m disappointed and upset, and my ankle is still a little sore, but I know that it was just a mistake. I’ll do better next time.”

“Yeah,” Kai mumbles sleepily, his mind finally caving in to his body’s exhaustion now that he knows Beomgyu is okay. “You always do great, Beomgyu-hyung.”

“Thanks, Kai-yah.”

And they fall asleep.

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bylertruther · 2 years

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sitting here wondering what they're gonna do with the mind flayer next season considering we were told that vecna was his top general and how that plays into everything and so far here's what's bouncing around my head:

overall:

everything has been vecna's doing thus far, because it was his job to give the mind flayer entry into our world and form a bridge between them (see: the rifts). this would explain why he wasn't panicked or fussed at all over being attacked, claimed that they hadn't won/there's no stopping this, and that this was only the beginning. everything that we've seen so far has been act one of vecna and the mind flayer's master plan.

the mind flayer is going to materialize as the thessalhydra that nancy saw in vecna's vision and THAT'S when shit is ACTUALLY going to get real. we thought that we'd seen the mind flayer's might before, but we haven't seen anything like it yet. monsters as crazed and aggressive as the ones from the prison and the flesh monster from season three will start to breach the rifts and that's when "the beginning of the end" starts. it'll be an all out war man vs monsters style. the details are muddy, but it likely won't be enough to just close the gates anymore. it's either too late for that or they can't get anywhere near it without being torn to shreds.

this is at first of course, because the duffers have said that we pick up in season five right where we left off and i have a feeling that things will start to breach the gate either immediately or really, really early into the season.

still, they will have to close the gates somehow eventually. aside from the one opened by the russian machine, all of the gates (to my knowledge) have been opened due to darkness (trauma, pain, guilt, and fear): eleven and vecna's first fight, eleven being forced to make contact with the demogorgon, vecna kidnapping will, and the four curses that created the rifts.

naturally, the only way to close these gates will be with light (love, acceptance, hope, and solidarity). we've seen this before when eleven thought of her mother while closing the gate in season two with hopper by her side to protect and support her, so the evidence is right there. it's going to be a group effort as it always is, but will is the light and he always has been, and he's also vecna's narrative foil + the only one still cursed ("every ending has a beginning" "it was always you") + the missing tool to vecna's plan to remaking the world (the upside down turned into hawkins when will arrived and is stuck on that same day), so he's probably going to be what closes them or severs the connection.

mike is obviously going to be in trouble, too. his proximity to will, his history of always foiling their plans and finding their weaknesses and how to exploit them, and his previous close calls with death lead to a perfect "third time's the charm" situation. mike is also one of the only other people to have been in direct contact with vecna/the mind flayer (the hospital, the shed, and the battle of starcourt). i don't know if they'll play into the whole "true sight renders you immune to illusions" thing, and feel free to correct me if i'm wrong on that as always, but regardless mike has always been able to pull will back to earth, so they're definitely going to do something with that and him as that obviously won't be a good thing for our bad guys. also, it plays into the "without heart, we all fall apart" thing. i think him injuring his leg would be a cool callback to the tunnel scene in season two, but who knows... maybe he'll injure his arm as a callback to the season three campaign? we'll see. he's definitely getting a sword or some other melee weapon, though, as that seems to be his go-to and what he's always given.

as for the mind flayer:

i'm unsure as to whether they'll give it a moral compass or make it a neutral entity, but i lean towards the latter. vecna tells eleven that the upside down was unspoiled by mankind and that he saw the mind flayer as "a means to realize [his] potential; to transcend [his] human form; to become the predator [he] was always born to be." i could be wrong in two years, but this, paired with the fact that we saw docile demogorgons in the upside down with him before he manipulated it and at the lab when they weren't possessed by the mind flayer, makes me think that it's vecna that makes the mind flayer evil.

the mind flayer is an inconceivably powerful entity that is capable of behaving as a superorganism of sorts by spreading and infecting other organisms to add to the hivemind. like every living thing, it wants to grow and reproduce to increase its fitness. this in and of itself is not an inherently evil thing. the upside was unspoiled by mankind aka unspoiled before vecna came and manipulated it. he turned the mind flayer into that spider-like image he was obsessed with as a child and, considering he's been behind everything on stranger things so far, we know that he used it as a tool to achieve his plans.

i think it's likely that they formed a "deal" of sorts. the mind flayer wants to expand and vecna wants to control the rightside up. it makes sense then that the mind flayer would allow him "to transcend [his] human form" (see: he's no longer human, leeches off of others and the environment to survive, and seemingly regenerates when hurt + god-like powers when wielding the mind flayer) if vecna gave it entryway into the rightside up and formed a bridge between their worlds. everyone gets what they want: the mind flayer can grow its superorganism and vecna can continue to leech off of its power the way he has with literally every other being (the vampire reference was not just a joke) to "remake [the world] into something beautiful" (which is where will comes in).

they most definitely and undoubtedly are going to kill vecna. that much is obvious, i feel. the mind flayer, though... it can be hurt, sure, but can it be killed? or will it be a rehash of seasons two and four: different teams fighting together to weaken it enough that they can force it through the gates? something... like that? i don't know. how do you kill a storm? how do you kill a god? we saw already that you can't fight back infection/possession. so, what can they do?

the more that i think about it, the more likely i think that'll be. they'll be severely weakened and hindered by the monster apocalypse and we know that there will be teams in the upside down, too, so they'll all be fighting for their lives—not just eleven.

The Power Of (Gay) Love will close the gates permanently, because will is eventually going to accept himself and feel so loved that there won't be enough darkness for vecna to draw strength from, effectively starving him out and severing their psychic connection, and also i'm sure some cool freaky shit is gonna go down (which of course includes will pulverizing vecna as he should).

the mind flayer won't just pack its bags and go home afterward, but if will, the shaper of worlds, won't join him then it probably won't survive here because "it likes it cold" and... the world isn't... always cold everywhere? cue will's super cool fireballs shooting it back through the gate into the upside down or something while everyone is fighting with 1 hp and a dream. i don't know the details and i won't pretend that i do. i just know that this is stranger things which means that love is literally what always saves the day, so. 1 + 1 = vecna will perish and the mind flayer will be forced to go through the gates to survive and The Power Of Love will sever the connection between worlds so that they can live in peace. or at least as much peace as you can have after Alla Dat.

#mine #girl help i cannot stop thinking about that gay monster show!!!!!!!!!!!#not rereading this fucking gargantuan post btw if i repeat a sentence or stopped short then oh well. Read My Brain Dump Boy

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stagwhisker · 2 years

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Actually off the top of my head here’s some small stuff I’d keep or change in no paticular order. Most of it is first arc since I recently reread that and its fresh in my mind.

Graystripe stays in Riverclan until PoT. He’d return to Thunderclan when he returns to the Lake Territory due to both of his kits no longer residing in Riverclan. Also just make him a better father in general as well as have his loyalties run around his family. I also wanthim to be a positive force in Briarlight’s life later. I do want to keep Millie behaving the way she does but have it clear that you know that isn’t a good way to react and have her develop past it.

Also the Spottedleaf romance plot simply won’t exist I have had it nope not doing it again. In fact I have a better role in mind for her in TNP anyway so I may have someone else take her place though I don’t think there IS anyone to hmm. I just know I want to change Spottedleaf REALLY badly.

I think I’d still “canonize” Longtail being Robinwing’s son with Frostfur and Brindleface as his older sisters. PERHAPS have Cherrypaw and Chestnutkit come from the same litter as him. Ravenpaw would also still be Robinwing’s son.

Speaking of Brindleface, I know for a fact I don’t want her to be Sandstorm’s mother. I want to try to limit relationships that are incestuous which honestly is a tall order but god Ashfur and Squirrelflight is bad enough as is they don’t need to be related. On that note, Runningwind would be her father instead of Redtail. I don’t know who her mother would be and honestly it doesn’t matter I don’t think she ever appears as a kit in the series.

I’m so torn on Cinderpelt because on one hand I let her become a Warrior because she is completely capable of doing so but then I’d have to pick a new med cat and I can’t think of anybody off the top of my head around the time Yellowfang dies who could take her place. Maybe Cinderpelt takes it temporarily before returning to her Warrior duties but that doesn’t feel correct either idk I know I want to change something about it.

I’d like the Warrior Code to begin being challenged in the first arc starting with A Dangerous Path. I want it to lead to the events of The Broken Code to be a massive world changing culmination of every flaw present in the code as well as the resolution to the years of questioning. I would also change Dawn of the Clans to come out AFTER AVoS so we can see the formation of the code and it’s deconstruction back to back.

I want to make Leopardstar and Blackstar's motivations surrounding Tigerstar more clear to the reader. Everything we hear is ideas from Firestar which normally is fine but the way these characters are forgiven so easily when all we see is compliance from them it's.... strange. I'm not going to make them any more sympathetic/unsympathetic but I want the reader to have a better understanding of these two leaders. Furthermore I want there to be resistance from their own cats and cats from other clans because of their past allegiance to Tigerstar (and Brokenstar for Blackstar).

Piggybacking off the previous point I want the rancid undertones of the way these cats view each other and outsiders to continue through all the arcs. The first arc feels so separated from everythibg else and Tigerstar's reign is treated a s afreak eventeven though he was just taking advantage of the mindset of clan cats that have existed for decades and continues to exist long after his death. There will be cats who pin the blame solely on Tigerstar while others can see Tigerstar was a PART of the problems that continue to exist. Maybe have that cause conflict between these two groups over the years.

I have no idea how to word this but I want Cloudtail's aetheism to challenge the idea that cats NEED beleif in Starclan to have morals like the books imply later in the series. And I want that to be expanded upon by Mothwing who beleives in an existance of Starclan but doesn't beleive they hold power over the lives of cats and could be untrustworthy. Just the idea that faith does not equate to morality or blind faith can be a detriment to those looking to abuse that power.

Making a more religiously complex series overall. I want the Tribe, The Guardians, and The Sisters to be treated with FAR more dignity and respect by the Clans and the Narrative. I want to have the clans reconized as flawed by the narrative and not as the "Correct" way to live in the series.

Uhh I want more buildup to Bloodclan. I want Bloodclan's existance to be known before The Darkest Hour and have there be foreshadowing to the pain train of death that Scourge would turn out to be. First mention would most likey come from Barley.

That's what I have off the top of my head I have more in mind but I have been fighting with this for 2 hours I need a break if yall want me to elaborate further (to the best of my ability) on anything specific then yall can shoot me an ask but for now that's all

#rewrite stuff

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docholligay · 2 years

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Sir, I am the queen of keep it moving, and I just want to say that there is a massive and ridiculous difference between “Don’t get stuck in a bad event or happening, don’t dwell on shit you can’t change” and “hold a massive and expensive party after four young women have gone missing and everyone is imagining them torn to shreds by dingoes.” There’s a lot of space between those two.

This is, I would say, massively inappropriate given the circumstances. There are times that it is correct to cancel a big event and this would be right at the top of the list for that. Are people really going to even enjoy themselves given the circumstances? OR is it going to come off as weird and awkward? Once again, there are levels here. If you’re having a dinner party that is mostly based around quiet conversation that is a far cry from anything I would call a soiree. Anything big enough to be called a soiree generally has an entire festive mood around it that I feel like will be somewhat crushed by the whole “Four girls missing presumed dead” atmosphere.

#Doc watches Picnic at Hanging Rock #Picnic Ep 2

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skypied · 2 years

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two tidbits based on two stupid ideas for bad flirty compliments that would actually charm the awkward teenage boys an embarrassing amount

Luca giggles and scoops a dollop of pesto onto his fork, holding it up between them. “You know what I just realized?”

Alberto glances up at him, mid-chew, and swallows the way too large piece of bread with a grimace. “What?”

“Your eyes are the exact same color as pesto.”

Alberto blinks at him, non-plussed for a couple of seconds before a sheepish smile flashes across his face. “Oh! I- I guess so!” he says with a half-hearted laugh before staring back down at the bread in his hand.

“I- I mean- it’s a compliment!” Luca quickly backtracks, hands waving in an attempted explanation. “I love pesto! And youuuuu…r eyes are really pretty!”

“I. Uh. Thanks,” Alberto mumbles, glancing back up at him for just a moment - just long enough for Luca’s heart to skip a beat noticing the redness in his cheeks making his shy eyes glow even brighter in the flickering candlelight.

“You’re welcome!” Luca chirps, confidence simultaneously bolstered and knocked off-kilter by the reaction, but when Alberto keeps picking at his food and not saying anything, he quickly stumbles and runs his mouth off another cliff. “Super welcome. I mean- that makes it sound like it’s a gift or- or like it’s hard, like, an effort, but it’s just true! Anyone can see it! You just… have pesto eyes! Or- or- like basil, I guess, or oregano. Any herb, really. Not lavender, though, that’s purple, but- oh! They’re kinda like your scales, if you think about it-”

“Shut up,” Alberto snorts. His foot jerks out in an attempted kick, aiming for Luca’s shin, only succeeding in upsetting his plate of pasta.

“Alberto!” he shrieks, horrified as he scoops the noodles back onto the plate. “It’s everywhere-”

Howling with laughter, Alberto hands him some torn pieces of kitchen towel. Luca grabs it with a scowl and starts wiping the sauce off the wooden floor. “There’s some on your shirt, too.”

“On my favorite shirt,” Luca corrects, pouting as he pats oil off the worn cotton. Well - what could suit a hand-me-down better than even more stains from its original owner?

“Here,” Alberto says, one hand darting out to grab his jaw and swipe a thumb over his cheek, before retreating, quickly licking the pesto off his fingertip, and staring back at him with a satisfied grin. “Now you’re all good!”

“Yes! Very good!” Luca exclaims in a high-pitched voice that cracks and effectively crumbles any dignity he might have possessed.

(...)

“These flowers are kinda like- like your paddles. Not the right color but- they- they reminded me of you.”

Luca’s mouth draws into a smile so wide it hurts, corners turning down in a failed attempt to hide some of the sheer, heart-soaring joy warming his cheeks. “You think so?”

“Yep!” Alberto says, voice suddenly so loud it’s startling, before shoving another forkful of pasta into his mouth. “‘S’like you said, ‘s j’st truth,” he continues, mouth wide open mid-chew. Luca cringes a little seeing the worm-like pasta almost falling from his lips, but can’t help his stomach going weak and fluttery either way imagining Alberto sneaking into one of the lush gardens adorning the hillsides around Portorosso, picking flowers for him.

#the flowers r hydrangeas btw #skypieposts #skypiefics

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that-was-anticlimactic · 2 years

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So I just came up with this idea: Imagine if you were the Avatar!

Top 5 (or 3) ATLA characters you would want as an elemental master + characters you would not want as an elemental master, and why?

🌊⛰️

🔥🌪️

omg sorry it took me forever to answer this lol

okay hmmm imm do one for each element <3

WOULD WANT

mako - i want mako for fire lol i just feel like i'd vibe with him and tbh we are both high stress people so that might be bad but like. imma say him anyways lol

katara - i just. i love katara. so much. and she's sweet and caring but like she isn't afraid to be honest with me about what i need to work on

jinora - i was really torn between jinora and ikki tbh but i ended up going with jinora because i feel like she'd be a better teacher and also i love them

haru - idk why but i just feel like haru is the Correct answer and also i trust him ojihuygtfxcgyuijokpo

NOT WANT

azula - i love her so much but she would make me cry. so would zuko but i feel like zuko would feel bad afterwards and azula wouldn't iuhygtfrdghjh

pakku - the way that i Hate this man... crusty old man...

meelo - do i even need to explain this one?

bolin - idk why but my gut is saying that bolin and i would Not vibe as teacher / student oiuhgfcgvhjhg love him but imma go with my gut here lol

#bumblingbee1 #this was hard!#because like there is my bias and then i have to factor in like how i work the best and what would help me and what wouldn't haha #this was fun tho!#what about you?#corey rambles:)

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james-stark-the-writer · 6 months

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thoughts on The Last of Us S01

it fails as both an adaptation and as a show. it's a mediocre show adaptation of great source material and an even more mediocre show in isolation. i am deeply worried for S02 bc of how much Part II literally only works as a game, i need them to get a proper writer's room more than i need Euphoria to get one.

it's crazy how 2 of the best episodes (outside of 5 and the flashback parts of 3) were co-written by Neil. i also noticed Craig Mazin is the only writer on all the episodes besides 1, and 9 which he co-wrote with Neil, and 7 was written all by Neil so, actually, maybe my takes about there not being writers actually talking about all the decisions the show makes were correct then, it was just Craig doing all the writing except for those 3 episodes, that's crazy. it really shows tbh. the season as a whole is a MESS. the show is a fundamentally broken and bad adaptation of The Last of Us and misrepresents the whole appeal of the property but then the stories of the games are fundamentally meant to be game stories and narratives and you can't just copy-paste them into a show. a better writer could've made it work by reassessing and rewriting every tiny bit to work as a TV show instead of feeling like a game narrative cut up into bits and supplanted as a TV narrative but Craig clearly isn't that writer.

honestly i'm sure other people besides me have already said everything there is to say about it, i keep getting enough video essays recommended about the show, and i've said most of what i wanted to say anyway. to me, as an adaptation, the show as a whole is a 6.75/10. it's not a full 7 but there are some really interesting adaptational choices here that at least make it worth a watch, however frustrating that watch might be bc of how much every other part sucks besides the new stuff and Bella's acting. as its own show, it's actually even lower for me, it's a 6/10, it feels like a disjointed fucking mess, like it's being held back (as i elaborated on here) and it really just doesn't really know what it wants to be. it constantly feels torn between wanting to tell its own story and wanting to be an adaptation and the show really suffers for it. the acting and characterization is all over the place and deeply shallow, Craig doesn't know what subtlety or subtext means, all the writing is just so much exposition about what the characters feel and think and basically none of it (again, i'm never talking about Bella here. they're perfect casting and there's only one moment in the entire show where i didn't absolutely love what they were doing) feels like the characters have actually lived in this world and have gone through the shit the dialogue says they have, it just feels so lifeless and empty and it's honestly exhausting trudging through most of it, watching them hit similar plot beats as the game with all the enthusiasm of running at the crack of dawn when you're not a morning person (idk, my brain's too exhausted to come up with a better example rn). it's like they knew the beginning and ending and forgot to actually do the legwork in the middle to make it make sense and like it has momentum and any real sense of narrative progression.

idk. i love the games, i knew this could never be the games, but i didn't expect it to be this bad. this season was just a bitter disappointment. if you wanna read all about my precise thoughts while watching the show, go read them here, and you can follow it back to my thoughts on all the episodes from 1-9.

#james talks #james reviews things #james reviews stuff #the last of us #tlou #tlou spoilers #tlou s01 #the last of us s01 #tlou hbo #see y'all when S02 releases ig

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themovieblogonline · 1 year

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One True Loves Review

One True Loves features Simu Liu (Shang-Chi And The Legend Of The Ten Rings), Phillipa Soo (Hamilton), and Luke Bracey (Point Break) star in this modern twist on a classic love story from NY Times bestselling author Taylor Jenkins Reid. Emma and Jesse are living the perfect life together until Jesse disappears in a tragic helicopter crash on their first wedding anniversary. Four years later, Emma has found happiness again and is about to marry her best friend when Jesse resurfaces, turning her world upside down and leaving her torn between two great loves. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87EeZG2n2po Can I take a moment to just acknowledge everyone who's ever been trapped in the friend zone? This movie is for you. The Good The premise itself is just downright mesmerizing. I instantly relate to a situation I've never been in just on the concept. What would you do if you were married, that person died, and you met someone else just to find out your dead spouse isn't dead and wants you back??? That's an instant problem I think that everyone can empathize with even if we can't directly relate. I love this story concept a lot. I had a good time seeing how Emma handles this situation and the emotional conflict within her heart. There's so much to consider especially with time. Her husband is missing for years so what is the correct way to react to his sudden re-appearance? One True Loves starts off really strong. I tip my hat to the production team for some strong direction and great performances here. The movie starts off very strong giving us a good view of the lives of Emma and Jesse's perfect life. Now, this is the type of life people dream of when young of an endless vacation with a loved one. I had a lot of fun watching Emma's love triangle develop with Jesse and Sam. One True Loves quickly brings us up to speed on Emma and Jesse's high school romance. It grows organically and continues into adulthood and results in marriage. I really feel great about their romance and I understand their attraction in a relatable way. One True Loves excels at being a romantic comedy with extra emphasis on comedy. This is no surprise as director Andy Fickman has a history of directing comedic films and the cast in this movie is very adaptable. Sam (Simu Liu) is incredibly funny in this movie and delivers some of the best jokes and visual gags in the entire movie. You could carve out his moments in the movie and have a believably funny sitcom but we get a sitcom in a movie. Michaela Conlin plays Emma's sister Marie and makes for a great one-two combo of comedy with Sam. She brings some well-timed dry humor and injects them into some otherwise emotionally heavy moments. There's a scene in the movie where she apologizes to Emma for convincing her to give up on her dead husband that had me in tears. The Bad The editing was rough. There are moments in the movie where scenes only last for a few seconds before transitioning to another scene. Unfortunately, the actors are giving some really good performances that are cut short. A few moments are really touching on some deep emotions that could be explored further but aren't. What undercuts this transition is that these scenes of deeply sad emotion get cut away to scenes that tell a quick gag and then switch back to the heavy emotion. the movie could have used some more time to let Phillipa do her thing. Some of the jokes don't land as well as intended. It's a combination of bad editing and some poorly delivered humor. There's a moment where we see Sam walk into the teachers' lounge at his job in a predictable joke. The main issue is that the scene undercuts one of the more emotional moments in the movie with Emma and her husband. Overall One True Loves is an adorably funny movie that had me laughing throughout the movie. Phillipa Soo is outstanding in this movie and flexes a lot of emotional range in her performance. I would have loved to see more of her scenes extended a bit longer. There are too many moments where Phillipa is acting her ass off but these scenes get cut short. Simu Liu is a highlight and delivers some of the funniest moments in the movie. I would have liked to understand this music teacher could just hijack his students for any given reason! One moment he's using them to impress Emma on a date and another moment he's unloading his emotional dilemma's on them during the school day. I also can't help but wonder why didn't Sam have any adult friends he could talk to? Read the full article

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ghostbustersreborn · 1 year

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chapter 8

december 9th, 1984.

the next day rolled around and the boys were still trying to find ways to get in contact with this amanda.

as if on cue, they hear an unfamiliar female voice.

"your tara's friend?" they hear janine ask.

that's when they all shot up out of their chairs and ran right over to janine's desk.

janine was startled by the boys' sudden appearances.

"jesus christ! don't ever do that again." she snapped.

"sorry." egon quickly said, before turning his attention on the young girl before them. "you're amanda right?"

"yeah, why?" she replied.

"we need to talk to you."

"something very bad happened to tara at your party the other night." egon began.

"what-what do you mean? is she okay?" amanda asked, worry laced in her voice.

"no." ray chimed in. "she was uh, she was uh.. raped."

amanda was speechless. of course she would be, how else would you react to such news?

"d-do you know who did it?" was what she managed to utter out.

"we think it's somebody you know." peter began, he took out the picture that egon found in his office which wasn't torn to pieces over to her.

it was the one of the boy straddling tara.

once looking over the photo, amanda's eyes glossed over with tears.

"i can't believe this." she said. "tate's one of my best friends, i never thought he would be capable of doing something like this."

"well, some people tend to hide who they truly are until the very last moment." winston stated.

amanda looked at the boys. "where is she?" she asked.

"upstairs." peter answered.

"i want to see her."

taking amanda upstairs to tara's room. ray lightly knocked on the door. after getting no response, he opened it up revealing tara inside staring mindlessly out the window.

"hey, tara." ray greeted softly, not wanting to spook her.

him and the boys slowly made their way inside, peter held out his hand not wanting amanda to follow.

tara turned herself over to them. she spotted amanda out in the hallway.

"amanda?" she said, standing up.

"she came over asking for you." ray informed her.

amanda took it upon herself, to enter tara's bedroom.

"hey, tara." she scratched the back of her neck. "i heard about-" peter shook his head, he didn't want her to bring it up just in case it triggered her. "i wanted to see you." she corrected herself.

tara nodded. "the party was great." she said, putting up a facade.

"i'm sure you two would like some alone time." winston said, making his way out of the room.

ray, egon and peter just stood there, looking like statues. too worried and too overly protective to leave tara alone.

"come on, she's fine." winston ordered.

as if on cue, the alarm for work sounded.

winston sighed of relief, he left the room going down stairs.

the three boys exchanged worried looks to one another.

the last time they went out for work, tara was a total wreck.

amanda stepped in between them, making her way over to the blonde.

the brunette turned over to them.

"i won't bring it up, i promise." she whispered.

feeling some sense of relief, the boys exited the room and went to go get ready for work leaving the two teens to chat amongst themselves.

"how are you feeling?" amanda asked.

tara shrugged. not sure how to respond. her mind had been in a haze since it happened.

she heaved out a sigh, before slumping down in her seat.

"i really don't know how i feel." she admitted.

amanda nodded.

"i-i" tara stammered, having trouble finding the words. "it's..complicated." she left it at that.

the rest of the time spent was amanda and tara talking about various topics that came to their heads. soon, the boys were back and it was time for amanda to leave.

"here's my number, if you ever want to chat." she said handing the tiny piece of paper over to her.

tara nodded, slipping it into her pocket.

"bye." she waved.

and she was gone.

tara sat there in silence. processing the day over. this was the most she's talked in the last few days. she's mostly stayed mute unless it was to say yes or no to something when the boys asked. she had been pretty non-verbal, something very out of character of tara.

peter came into her room a short while after amanda left. he was still in his flight suit.

"it hurts." tara started.

"huh?" peter said, voice laced with confusion.

"lying. lying to someone you just met." she clarified.

peter nodded. not sure, he could relate.

he took a seat next to her.

she swallowed thickly. "i'm scared."

"we're going to figure this out, okay?" peter assured her.

she made eye contact with him. "promise?"

he held her hand. "promise." he said back.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ghostbusters #ghostbusters fanfiction #ghostbusters reborn #egon spengler #peter venkman #ray stantz #winston zeddemore

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footballandshit · 1 year

Note

thoughts on the final?

sorry this is like almost a week late 😩

keeping my ramblings below the cut!

pre-match: okay ngl i wanted an 'underdog' team in the finals. (morocco 😭) fra and arg are like big teams when it comes to football so i was kinda demotivated to watch it tbh haha. and i was torn between like not wanting fra to win twice in a row and also not wanting arg to like glorify messi further (note: i have nothing against messi btw, i think he's a great player and deserves all the success he has, but i didn't want it to be like oh he's god now because he has the wc too, like he doesn't need to win the wc to be the best player or sth right? he's good already!) + us gunners don't like emi for reasons haha. but then again i have blorbos in fra... so your girl was in a dilemma!! 😵‍💫

during the match: okay the match itself. first half was kinda dead ngl. idk what happened to fra but let's just pretend the first half didn't exist. 🫣 it was almost like fra was gonna serve arg the win on a golden platter. arg played well tho, so good for them! then france stepped up in the second half, and only then the match started to become spicy!! we gotta admit kyky served cunt!!! like c'mon he was working his ass off in the second half and it paid off. varane's thicc ass putting arg onside was not on my bingo card but hey, that's the world cup for ya. loved the memes. i hate extra time, i hate penalties. i hate when the result of a match depends on penalties plsss it's like the 90 mins of game before was a waste hshs. felt really bad for the players who missed btw.

post-match: in the end, i'm kinda cool with arg winning i guess, i mean they played quite consistently throughout the match. look idk how they decide the golden ball winner, but i think there were other players that performed better in the wc? (correct me if i misunderstood how this award works haha). i didn't mind emi doing his dance during the penalty shootout because like wtv it's a celebration right? but i think the 'fucking the glove' thing in front of the Emir and like the entire world was kinda inappropriate?? idk haha my parents and younger brothers were like wtf?? okay that all aside, not surprised by the racism that came after, but like i'm tired of it tbh, can ppl stop taking football so seriously like you really wanna attack young coloured players for representing the country in the biggest global football tournament whilst you're screaming shit behind the screen?? also ppl were saying that ky called south american teams inferior or sth, and turns out, from the original video source and translations, it wasn't?? bruhh ppl really making up shit to attack a kid. look, if y'all find him arrogant or sth or just simply don't like him, that's cool y'know. you don't need to come up with some reason to hate him lol.

welp, at least we saved morocco from the heartbreak, and i hope to see them do better in the next wc!!

okay i think i should stop here, hope i covered everything, anon! HAHA

#ice talks #ask #answered #wc22 #world cup 2022 #world cup #footballandshit

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jesse-eisenberg-interview · 14 years

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Press Conference: The Social Network

Given the sheer brilliance of The Social Network, it was imperative that we interviewed someone about the film, or at least the phenomenon that is Facebook. But with Mark Zuckerberg still ignoring my friend requests, we went for the next best thing: the guy pretending to be Mark Zuckerberg on screen. And his co-stars. And the guy who wrote the whole thing.

And so we sat down to witness the combined talent of Jesse Eisenberg, Andrew Garfield, Justin Timberlake and West Wing creator/Studio 60 legend Aaron Sorkin. Here's what they had to say about Facebook, Faust and summing up an entire generation of young people.\

Aaron, is it surprising people don't need to know a lot about Facebook to enjoy the movie?

AS I don't know anything about social networking, so the audience not needing to either isn't that surprising. As for it being a Faustian drama, that's one of the many things it is. You can say "what profits man, if he gains the world and loses his soul", with Justin Timberlake as Mephistopheles...

JT I'd just like to clarify that I'm playing the role of Sean Parker, not Mephistopheles. (Laughter)

AS We're pleased with the reaction - we've screened it across America to students and professors and people are taking away a variety of themes. We encourage that. It's not about one thing, it's about several. We like that arguments are happening in the foyer and in the car park.

Justin, how did you get involved in playing the part of the Napster inventor?

JT Enough cannot be said about how dazzling the script was. There was a lot there to Sean's character - to all of them - and you just never come across such a well constructed character or story like this. It never happens. The 162 pages went by in 5 minutes, like watching the film. And then you feel you need to watch it all over again! I think all the characters are complex, brilliant people, and I didn't so much as throw my hat in the ring as kick the door down!

Andrew, do you agree that your character of Eduardo is arguably the moral hero of the piece?

AG I agree! He's the hero. The only righteous man! (Laughs) It's completely valid to come away with that viewpoint, it's heart-warming for me that you did, and I believe he behaved well and was correct. But if you asked Jesse or Justin, they'd say the same about their characters. It's a multi-perspective look at the inception of this incredible device. I feel like certain people may think Eduardo had a lack of imagination to keep up with the others. Some might think he's too trusting and naive. But we needed that multi-perspective and it's a real testament to the story. It's not often we get to be torn between characters; there are usually just good guys and bad guys. This asks us to use our brains, which can't be a bad thing.

How hard was it preparing to play Mark Zuckerberg, who we know so much and yet so little about?

JE Mark is both publicly enigmatic and arguably the most accessible person in the world, so he's a very interesting character. The more you find out about him, the more mysterious he may become. But Aaron Sorkin is fully credited with creating this character based on a real person - I found out what I could about the real person to help with my preparation and research, but I'm really just playing Aaron's version of Mark.

Do you use Facebook at all? Perhaps under an alias?

JT I don't use an alias to go on Facebook. If I did, I think I'd feel like I was missing out on something going on outside! I think it's irresponsible to answer the question, but I assume it affords you the opportunity to connect with as many people as possible. I just stated the obvious about Facebook! It might be comparable to constantly being on a first date. It affords the chance to always present the best version of yourself.

AG I used to use it, but I'm four months clean now! I'm starting a support group for people in the same situation! (Laughs) It's a wonderful thing, the last time I used it was at a charity event and we raised four times the amount thanks to it. But as Aaron said, your relationship to social media doesn't have any impairment on your enjoyment of the film. It's a story about talented, hungry, ambitious young men and it's about the bigger things they attempt to deal with. Power, greed, loyalty, betrayal. The is film is more about that.

JE Facebook truly is a phenomenon. I don't have a Facebook page, but I did set one up under an alias as Andrew Garfield for a week. And made no friends at all. Except for Andrew's alias, who wanted to be best friends with his own fan page... (Laughter)

AS All my education and experience is in playwriting, not sociology, and I know nothing about Facebook 2010. My knowledge is all from 2004. That said, it does a lot of wonderful things. It's been responsible for a lot of good social activism, like the protests against the Iranian elections. My worry is that a device that brings us all closer together may be doing the opposite. Replacing humanity with technology makes it seem to me a insincere form of communication. We have a way to not show our flaws, in the privacy and solitude of our rooms. I can identify with that because I would like people to think I'm as quick and clever as the people I write. In a way, I do professionally what people do for free on Facebook.

How challenging were the legal issues when dealing with such a disputed subject?

AS When you're doing non-fiction about people who are still alive, young people, a Hollywood movie is like a loud cannon shot. For most, this will be their only impression of these events. So you have two things in your hands: history and someone's life. First there's a legal obligation and the script is vetted by countless lawyers. I'm simply not allowed to say something that is untrue and defamatory. Even greater is the moral obligation not to mess around with someone's life. Both David and I took the truth as seriously as can be. Rather than pick one of the three conflicting versions, I liked that we used all three versions - apologies to Kurosawa! There's a lot of available research out there, such as Mark's blog post which we hear at the beginning of the film. The girl's name was changed there, it's not Erica Albright, and are there are another two names changed.

So did the threat of legal action make the studio bosses sweat even more?

AS I can’t speak to how much they ordinarily sweat! But I can tell you that there was nothing left to chance. If there was the slightest doubt, I couldn’t say it. I had to supply the studio with an annotated script saying where I got any information. Every time a fact was in dispute, I had to make that clear to the audience.

Have any of you encountered your real-life counterparts? What do they think of the film?

JE Well last Friday, Mark Zuckerberg rented a movie theatre for himself and all his employees to watch the movie. My cousin, who is actually an employee of facebook, was there. And he sent me a message saying that Mark really liked the parts of the movie that he thought we got right. Which was probably the nicest reaction that I could have hoped for.

AG Aaron wrote an incredibly detailed and meticulously researched script. So I went in with total confidence. From reading the first scene, I could see that this was authentic and genuine. For any actor to have that amount of detailed humanity as a starting point is a true gift, and a rare gift.

Can you explain how this movie has done so well?

AS We don't know! But we couldn't be more thrilled. I don't do the business bits - they break down figures into something a fifth grader can understand. It's actually broken even in every demographic. Sony have done well to make a film without any of the bells and whistles that we're used to seeing from Hollywood. The only bit of special effects, which you're not meant to notice, is the fact that Armie Hammer plays two people. There are a million ways to go wrong with this film. If you can spot half of them, you're a genius. But David Fincher didn't step in any of the holes. And he's the one who made it brilliant. He won the bull fight with cliché and he made a very special film.

SOURCE

#jesse eisenberg #2010 #the social network

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sinner-as-saint · 3 years

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when no one is around.

Butler!Steve x Reader AU

Run-through: You have had a shameless crush on your butler, Steve, ever since your parents hired him. And you’re even more shameless when it comes to showing it. Poor Steve always has to put up with you no matter what. He didn’t have much of a choice; mainly because he was in charge of your household, consequently, in charge of you but also because he likes you, even though he shouldn’t. Yet he always resists you and your charms, for multiple reasons. However, the man finally breaks and gives in to you, following some unholy circumstances…

Themes: age gap, smut, masturbation, slight voyeurism, slight daddy kink, bratty!reader, dom!Steve, daddy!steve, fluff, Butler!Steve, angst

You woke up to the sound of Steve’s voice, like you did every morning.

“Miss, it’s past eight thirty. If you don’t wake up now, you’re going to be very late for work and your father will not be thrilled.”

You groaned and tried to hide under your blanket knowing that that would buy you at least another minute or two. And it did. A couple of minutes later you heard Steve sigh.

“Miss, will you please just wake up?”

You peaked from under your blanket and stared at the eye candy standing right beside your bed in a white shirt, black tux with a bow tie and white gloves. You couldn’t understand how he was a butler when he belonged on the front cover of a magazine. Tall, handsome and older. Just your type.

“Can’t you be a little more loving, Steve? I don’t know, wake me up with a kiss or flowers or something romantic like that.” You teased, sitting up in the middle of your bed and stretching your arms and ignoring the way your thighs clenched together at the sight of him.

He stood there watching you, trying his hardest not to stare while fighting back a smirk. “That would be highly inappropriate, Miss.”

You sighed, reluctantly getting out of bed and stood right in front of him. “What’s highly inappropriate is you having the nerve to look like that all the time.” You took the liberty of leaning in and pressing yourself against him. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Do you have any idea what it does to me? Do you know how bad I wanna just-”

He gently pushed you away. “No.” He shut you up softly. “Now be quick, you have little time. Breakfast and your car will be waiting downstairs in thirty minutes.”

You rolled your eyes at him and rushed into your bathroom. As you got ready, you thought of the past almost six years. Steve has played a huge part in your life.

You still remembered the day your parents announced that they had hired a butler who would handle the household better since they were always away. It was important to have someone to look after you too, given you were the only one who lived in the big, empty house most of the time.

And in walked Steve, straight into your home and your heart. Upon hearing the name ‘Steve Rogers’ you had expected an older gentleman, much older. But then upon seeing Steve for the first time, you were swooned. Totally whipped at the sight of the muscular, suave and drop dead gorgeous man. Brownish blond hair, blue eyes, dashing. He carried himself with elegance. Just his gait was enough to make your heart go all crazy.

You remember thinking to yourself, how the hell would you be able to stay sane with a man that gorgeous around you all the time? Obviously you knew you had a crush on him since the very start. But as the days went by, that meaningless crush morphed into something a little more solid without you even knowing.

You liked Steve, more than you intended to perhaps. Unfortunately, for him you were just his masters’ daughter. He dodged every attempt you made at flirting with him. He always let you down gently though; always with a smile or a smirk or a soft look in his eyes.

And the more he pushed you away, the bolder you got. And you began hearing these phrases more frequently;

“Miss, this is highly inappropriate.” - Whenever you shamelessly flirted with him.

“Miss, I am too old for you.” - Which wasn’t that big of an issue for you personally. He wasn’t old, old. He was in his early forties and you were in your twenties. You knew people with age gaps bigger than that who were happy together.

“Miss, for the love of God, behave.” - your personal favorite.

You never crossed the line though. You sure did tease him a lot, day and night. But he always kept his calm and composure, never breaking. Although there were times when he almost did.

Like the time you were getting ready for a party and you needed some help with your dress. You called out for him and he appeared in your bedroom instantly. He couldn’t help but let his eyes roam your half exposed body.

“Can you zip me up?” You stood in front of your mirror, your back exposed, waiting. That was the first time he seemed really nervous around you. He walked up to you and zipped up your dress, slowly, taking his time. His soft, white gloves lazily grazed your skin while he pulled the zipper up, leaving goosebumps behind on your skin. He stood behind you for a moment or two, just staring at your reflection with his lips parted after he was done. “How do I look?” you asked, mischief in your eyes.

He swallowed audibly. “Beautiful.”

Then there was the time when you felt really bold and wore a see-through white, oversized t-shirt over some bright red underwear while parading around the house casually going about your day. Steve saw you and almost dropped the tray he was carrying.

“Oh hi Steve.” You smirked when you caught his gawking for a moment or two.

He recovered and peeled his eyes off you, looking down at his shoes before looking back up at you with a defeated look in his eyes. “Where are the rest of your clothes might I ask?”

“In the laundry bin.”

He sighed. “I had fresh laundry sent to your room just this morning.”

“They’re all dirty.”

“All of them?” he sounded frustrated. Not necessarily because of the topic of discussion but because of your rather scandalous appearance; sprawled on the couch carelessly while dressed like that. You knew just how to make a man lose his mind.

“Yes.”

“How?”

You pretended to think for a moment. “I soiled them while painting this morning.”

“You don’t paint.” He knew you were lying, being a brat as usual.

“I started this morning.”

He sighed, allowing his shameless eyes to take you in one last time before he walked away shaking his head mumbling under his breath about how you were incorrigible. You made it hard for him to go about his day in peace with your little antics, in more ways than one.

Then there was the very famous: “What would you like for breakfast today?” he’d ask almost every morning.

To which you replied, “You.” on a daily basis and it earned the same reaction out of him each time. He’d roll his eyes at you, resisting the urge to have indecent thoughts as best as he could.

Steve was torn between wanting to be strictly professional and wanting to give in to your relentless attempts of seduction. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t into you, or had never had an immoral thought when it came to you.

He thought of you all the time, mainly because his job required him to but also out of genuine concern for your well-being. You were a kind, smart, courageous and beautiful young woman - or rather you could be all this when you weren’t being a brat. Steve had seen the kind of dedication you put towards your work; while handling a huge chunk of the family business. He always admired you for how well you managed the burden your parents placed on your young shoulders.

He sometimes caught you letting out tears of frustration when the stress got too much. Or when you missed your parents because they barely ever came home. You basically lived alone here, in this big, empty house your parents owned. Steve often wondered what would happen to you if he wasn’t here to take care of you. He liked you, a lot. But there were factors which didn’t let him reciprocate what you felt for him.

First being his job, then his age, then the fear of your parents finding out and what they would do to him if they did. Besides, he thought, you were young. Young people feel things for people left and right without ever truly meaning it, correct?

Though that never stopped him from feeling the tension that exists between the two of you. Fiery, hot, burning; it was always there. Even when there were other people around, or when your eyes met for a brief moment. Even on days when you weren’t being a little brat, when you weren’t seeking his attention all the time, even then he couldn’t ignore it. It was there, present loudly.

This flirty, tension filled bond between the two of you remained constant for years. But it wasn’t always just inappropriate and sexual. Steve had been a friend, a confidant, a good listener to you more times than you could count.

With your parents always gone, and you having to bear some of the burden of your parents’ companies, it left you with little to no time with friends and family at all. Some you unfortunately drifted away from due to work, others just stopped reaching out or simply refused to understand your busy lifestyle.

But the one person who was always there for you, always fiercely loyal and constant; no matter how much of a brat you were, no matter how much you annoyed him all the time, no matter how dirty your jokes were, was Steve. Naturally, you unknowingly fell for him at some point - despite knowing that this would go nowhere.

Or would it?

Your daily routines barely changed. It always started and ended the same way. Steve would wake you up, you would annoy him a little, get dressed and ready for work, get to work, go to lunch with your assistant almost every day, get back home, annoy Steve a little more until he leaves. Only for him to come back the next day and repeat.

The days you hated the most were Steve’s off days. Fridays.

With him not around, your days weren’t as animated and fun. No one to tease, no one to be a brat to, no one to annoy. Your other staff members were great, but none quite like Steve.

So Friday, you turned in early for the night. Your housemaids and everyone else had already left so it was just you in an empty house. You tried reading, then got bored. TV wasn’t really helping either.

You tossed and turned in bed until you realized what was wrong; you were feeling frisky. You groaned, if only you had someone to take care of those needs of yours. More precisely someone with bronde hair, blue eyes, and a taut, muscular body which was always found under a crisp black tux, white shirt, black bow tie and white gloves… and a voice which made you feel things you hadn’t felt before.

As you thought of your sexy butler, your hand found its way in between your legs. Your other hand toyed with your breasts; fingers pinched your erected nipples as your back arched off the bed slightly. You sighed in pleasure.

Your flushed, naked body writhed on the silky, cool satin sheets as your fingers toyed with your wet folds. You moaned as your two fingers slipped inside your entrance with ease given that you were dripping already.

You moaned at the thought of a certain pair of blue eyes, and soft lips as your back arched off the bed again, the cold air mercilessly hit your bare chest and caused your nipples to erect even further. Your fingers effortlessly slipped in and out of you; your fingers ever so gently stroking your walls making every nerve of yours tingle. The palm of your hand rubbed against your sensitive clit over and over again as your moans got louder and louder.

What you didn’t know, was that hidden in the shadows just outside your partially open bedroom door, stood Steve. Lips parted, short breaths, heart racing, his blood rushing downwards as he watched you. He was too aware of everything; his body and yours, his immoral thoughts and your own, how your lust and hunger ignited him. Aware of your soft moans, and the fire in his loins.

He felt guilty, and very ashamed of himself as he took in your bare body. But he couldn’t stop looking. He was entranced; hungry just to have a taste. He begged his body to move away from your doorway, but he didn’t budge. It wasn’t like he was purposely peeping or being a creep.

It was his day off, and yet he dropped by for a casual check, like he had the habit of doing even on days when he wasn’t working because he still had to make sure you were alright. But normally when he dropped by, your bedroom door was always shut so he knew that you were fast asleep.

But today, he found soft, golden light coming through your bedroom. He had to make sure you’re okay but then he saw that the door was almost halfway open, and he investigated further and saw something he wasn’t supposed to. You. Naked on your bed. Touching yourself. And now, he couldn’t look away.

His cock was throbbing at this point and it was difficult to ignore it. He shamelessly drank in the sight of your naked body against the silky sheets. The way your back arched off the bed, the way you bit your lip to hold back your sinful moans, the way he could just tell that your shorts breaths would feel so warm against his skin… fuck, he had goosebumps and a shiver danced down his spine.

He begged himself to slowly walk away, and he almost did. But then he heard you moan his name. And he lost his mind.

“Steve… daddy, please…” you mewled, whimpering under your breath as you took yourself higher and higher.

Steve froze in place, he had never known his name could sound so gentle and vulgar at the same time. He was almost panting as he let his sinful eyes roam your naked body, and he wasn’t even being stimulated in any way, just the sight of you and the sound of your voice was bringing him on the edge.

He was a mess.

He could just walk into that room and give you all that you’ve been practically begging him for all this time, but that would mean risking all that he has now. Or he could simply leave, and pretend this never happened. Self-abuse under a cold shower once he gets back to his apartment would work best. However, he’d have to come back here tomorrow, now with the recollection of what he was currently seeing.

How will he be able to resist you from now on when he could barely take his eyes off you now?

That’s enough, Steve. He managed to slowly back away from your doorway and into the corridor which would lead him to the staircase. As he walked away, he heard your slightly louder moans as you came. Fuck. He stood at the landing, in the dark and groaned internally. Oh how pretty you must have looked, coming undone all over your pretty fingers. It drove him crazy just knowing that he’s the one you think of when you touch yourself.

As discreetly as he could, Steve walked out of your home, rushed into his car and drove past the gates as fast as he could. Needless to say, he had quite some trouble falling asleep that night.

---

You noticed some changes in Steve’s behaviour the next day when he showed up. He was avoiding you, you noticed that the minute you saw him. He wouldn’t look you in the eyes. He would barely be able to hold a conversation for too long. He seemed… shy and timid, definitely not his usual confident self around you.

You tried to start up a conversation but his replies were just dry. You thought that perhaps he was having a bed day, or he woke up feeling grumpy. So you let him be. You didn’t annoy him all day. But at the same time, having him around but not having his attention was driving you crazy. You hated it.

“Steve, what’s wrong?” you asked him at some point during the day. You were in the kitchen at the time and he walked in.

He wasn’t expecting to find you there so he seemed visibly nervous. “I… uh, nothing. Everything is fine.” He cleared his throat and straightened his back a little more. “Did you need anything, Miss?”

You could tell he was avoiding the topic, whatever it was. “No,” you answered, “nothing.” You walked out of the kitchen feeling a little troubled by his behaviour. You frowned as you walked upstairs into your study room. Since you were feeling gloomy, you decided to do some boring work until you figured out what to do with yourself.

Checking the security camera footage was something your father insisted on. You had people for that, but your dad said that it was important you did it yourself just to make sure everything around the house is in order. So you sat back in your seat, rewinding all the footage of the week and sped through it, bored out of your mind.

Surely you wouldn’t find anything because your staff members were all-

You almost fell out of your chair when you saw the footage of last night. 5th indoor camera which surveilled the spacious corridor which led to your bedroom. You checked the time on the frame, it was around 11 p.m and you saw Steve walking up to your partly open bedroom door. 11 p.m ish, around that time pretty sure you were… oh…

You were very well aware that Steve has the habit of coming by to check up on everything even on his days off, you just never knew at what time he came by. Apparently last night he came at the wrong time. Or not...?

You watched the footage of him standing there frozen in place. He took a step back from your door, then inched forward again. Then backed away, then leaned forward again, and you could tell he must have debated turning back around and leaving multiple times but he didn’t. Oh?

Your lips lifted up in a smirk as you pieced it all together. So this is why he’s been acting weird all day? Your devious mind came up with a plan.

Steve left that evening, after ignoring you for the entire day and you decided to be a little bit more of a pain in his lovely ass. So you waited for an hour after he left, and then drove all the way to his apartment. Nothing but mischief on your mind.

When you showed up at his doorstep, he was surprised but still maintained his calm and composure. You shamelessly checked him out; he looked like a god even in his sweatpants and white sweater. His damp, messy hair gave away that he must have just stepped out of the shower. Hot.

“Hello Steve.” Your smirk gave away that you were up to no good and he caught on pretty quickly. He gave you a faint smile.

“How come you’re h-,” You cut him off by opening his front door wider and taking the liberty of stepping into his home like an insolent little brat. He sighed as he shut the door behind him and followed you in. “Do you know that it’s considered quite rude to just barge into someone’s home?”

You stopped right before entering his living room. You turned around to face him with a sly smirk. “And do you know that it’s considered rude to come into someone’s home at night and openly spy on them while they’re naked and touching themselves? Hmm?” You had no shame. Also nothing to hide given he had seen it all.

The look on Steve’s face was priceless. He was less bothered about how you figured and more worried about what would follow now. His job could be at risk yes, but what must you be thinking? He couldn’t figure you out.

“That’s not what… I was-,” He looked frustrated and nervous, but also guilty. “I wasn’t spying, I didn’t…” He sighed, trying not to stutter. “Listen, that’s not what-”

You cut him off again by walking up to him. “It’s alright. I don’t mind.” You said with a flirty smile. “In fact, it would’ve been better if you just walked into the room.” You heard him gasp as you leaned in closer to him, whispering in his ear, “Because I was thinking about you while I was pleasuring myself,” you giggled, “but I think you know that already.” You pulled away to look at him. He was flushed. Troubled. Dare you say, aroused.

The memories of last night filled his mind. He remained silent, still processing your words and wondering how he should handle this situation. You spoke again, “If I had known you were there watching me, I would’ve put up a better show.” His handsome face was void of any emotion. He was confused, but also burning.

He was feeling too much at the same time, he didn’t know how to act. Not to mention that your words sent chills all over his body. He was barely able to maintain his calm demeanor any longer.

Silence.

You spoke up again. “If you want, I can do it right now.” You noticed how his hands flexed at his sides. He was struggling. You smirked. “What, you shamelessly watch me get off and now you’re acting all calm and collected?” You reached out and gently trailed a finger down his forearm. You watched him shiver for a moment. “Come on Steve,” your hand moved right to the bulge in his sweatpants, “admit it, you want me.” You teased him by gently feeling his erection. It excited you just as much as it did him.

He finally spoke up. “Y/N… we shouldn’t.” Fuck but he wanted to. He was dying to just reach out and touch you. He kept thinking about how you looked last night; bare, lying in your bed and touching yourself so gently. Your moans… they had tormented him all night even after he got home. His accelerated heartbeats echoed in his ears as he stood unmoving under your wild stare. He swallowed audibly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist you for long. His primal, feral desires surfaced more and more as you spoke and he was hungry. Like a wild animal in heat.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh?” You walked around him, circling like he was a prey. When you stood right behind him, you stood on your tiptoes and leaned in to whisper again, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “But what you did was highly inappropriate Mr. Rogers. Can you imagine what that would do to your reputation, should people find out?” You kissed down along his neck, from his ear to the side of his lower jaw where you could feel his pulse. You scoffed, “Your heart is racing, Steve. Give in. I’ll let you do whatever you want with me.” You whispered softly.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath while trying to ignore the pressure in between his legs. His cock was throbbing. His hands were almost shaking as he held back from touching you. He could so easily just pin you to the wall and have his way. He so desperately wanted to. But… he shouldn’t. You were his bosses’ daughter.

Despite knowing it was futile because you had the reputation of getting whatever you wanted, be it in your personal or professional life, he still tried to act responsibly rather than just giving in to his burning desire and instincts.

“I’m not one of your business deals, Y/N. You can come in here and talk terms with me in my own home.” He sounded frustrated and… hot.

You walked back around and stood right in front of him. Judging by the look in your eyes, he knew what was coming and he silently accepted defeat. “Why? What’s so special about your home?”

He stepped closer, stopping at just inches away from you. “Careful, Y/N.” His tone caused you to stop smirking. “My home, so I make the rules. When I tell you to stop being a little brat, you stop being a little brat.” The way he looked down at you only made you want to misbehave even more.

“Else what?”

And that was it. There went all the self-control he had. His eyes, dangerous and mean stared into yours as he stepped closer, grabbed you by the throat gently and pulled your face closer to his. Your lips parted as you struggled to breath right - not because of his grip around your throat, but because of the proximity. You could feel his body heat and it made you whimper.

“Else you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences. I’m gonna have to teach your bratty self how to behave.” He chuckled darkly. “But something tells me you’d like that, wouldn’t you babygirl?” He could tell by you whimpered that you would most definitely love that.

“Steve,” you were at a loss of words. But you were so ready. “Please…”

He smirked. “You’ve been a bad, bad girl for so long. Teasing me, tormenting me,” He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “touching yourself while thinking of me. Who said you could do that? Hmm? Did you ask for permission?”

“No…” you felt your arousal drip out of you at the sound of his lewd words.

“From now on, you will come to me when your greedy, little cunt needs to be taken care of. Or you will touch yourself only when I give you permission to. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” Your voice sounded shaky already.

“Yes what?”

Your walls clenched around nothing down there as you uttered the words, “Yes daddy.”

He smiled. “Good girl.” He whispered and as he looked behind you, you saw how his deep blue eyes lit up once he saw something. “But since you’ve been such a brat lately, you still need to be taught a lesson. Don’t you think?”

You nodded. He let go of your throat. “Anytime you want me to stop, just say so. Okay?” You nodded again as he slowly walked the two of you back until your legs hit the couch. He caught you by the arm before you fell backwards. “Bend over the armrest.”

You did what he asked, supporting yourself up with your elbows. And let out a soft moan when you felt his warm hands slipping under your little dress and kneading your butt

“Daddy’s gonna spank you until your pretty little cunt is dripping, is that okay babygirl?” His voice got you all flustered and whiny.

“Yes daddy.”

“Good.” He dragged your underwear down till your ankles, waited for you to step out of them and lifted your dress up. He lifted his hand up in the air and brought it down to spank your ass. You whimpered in pleasure as the tingles died down eventually. “That’s for being a bratty little girl all the time.”

Spank! “That’s for torturing daddy, and teasing him all day when he’s just trying to get work done.”

You let out a little moan as he spanked you again. “That’s for always doing the exact opposite of what I ask you to, causing you to then ask for help for every little thing.” Spank! You moaned louder as his fingers trailed down to your wet folds, teasing you. “Daddy has to help you out with every little thing, isn’t it?” He chuckled, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck, “That’s okay. Daddy loves it.”

Your skin burned under his lips. You were breathless, desperately wanting more.

Spank! His hand lingered on your skin a little longer this time, caressing where it felt sore. “That’s for being a whiny little brat when you don’t always get what you want, when you want it.” Spank! “Such a spoilt brat, aren’t you babygirl?”

You let out a breathless moan. You wanted more. He could tell by the way you pushed your butt out more and more each time after each spank. “Please…”

He smirked and slid his hand further down, stroking your wet folds. “You’re so wet.” He cooed and lifted his hand and spanked you again. And again. And again. You whimpered in pleasure and slight pain.

Spank! He smacked your dripping core instead of your butt. Your whole body tingled as he pulled you up against him again, your sore ass pressing into his erected cock, making both of you groaned under your breaths. “You did so good, babygirl.” His hand traveled to your front and under your dress and he touched your wet core. “You’re so wet for daddy,” He mumbled in your ear, “but you can’t cum yet.” You whined again. He chuckled. “Now you know how it feels when you tease daddy all the time. It’s not fun, is it babygirl?”

“No.” You answered as he gave you space to turn around and face him. “It’s not. I’m sorry.” You stared at his lips and he noticed.

“You know what would make daddy really happy though?” That made you look up into his irresistible eyes. “If you got down on your knees like a good girl, and sucked daddy’s cock and made him feel good.” He leaned in to brush his lips against yours. “Won’t you do that? Won’t you be a good girl for daddy?”

You nodded frantically. Excited. But also needy.

He plopped down onto the couch, manspreading and making you whimper just looking at him. “Come here,” he pointed in between his legs. “Kneel.”

You did as he asked. He took your hand and placed it right on his erection. You bit your lower lip as you felt him; big and hard. Your hands hurried to lower the waistband of his sweats to free his erected cock. The sight of his perfect cock had you whining with need again.

“Go on babygirl. Suck.” His voice was deeper than usual and it sent a shiver along your spine.

You wrapped your fingers around his cock and placed your mouth on his tip; your tongue slowly circling his tip. Steve held your head gently and slowly pushed himself deeper into your mouth. You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in slowly until he hit the back of your throat.

He gripped your hair gently, moaning as he told you how much of a good girl you were. The sounds of his moans and grunts only made you whimper with his cock in your mouth. Your ass was sore, but that was the last thing on your mind. Right now, you needed to be Steve’s good girl.

He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum which signified that he wasn’t going to last very long. His taste was all you could focus on; his raw taste and the feeling of his smooth skin against your tongue and the top of your mouth.

He looked down at you and moaned again, he loved the sight of your spit coating his cock. You looked perfect on your knees, taking him so well just like he wanted you to.

You looked up and met his wild, blue eyes. Just to mess with him, you took his cock out of your mouth and teased him a little bit more; licking his length from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. He swore under his breath as you dragged your warm tongue over the slit of his tip lazily.

He looked down at you with a smirk and a warning in his eyes and that was all it took for you to take him back into your mouth and suck on his cock until he came undone all over your tongue.

He gripped your hair, moaning loudly as he came. “Fuck.” He threw his head back to catch his breath. “Such a good girl.” he mumbled, looking down at you as you licked him clean; pulling his sweats back up before you climbed onto his lap, wiggling on purpose.

He pulled you closer, making you grind against his semi-erected cock. You whined in need. “Aww, what is it babygirl? You want daddy?” he cooed, mocking you. He loved the effect his voice had on you.

You nodded, pleading with your eyes as best you could. You needed him so bad, it hurt. “Please daddy.”

He cupped your face and leaned in for a kiss. You felt his tongue stroke the top of your mouth, and his hands touched you wherever he could. A gentle, deep kiss; the kind that made your heart flutter and made your knees weak. He undressed you slowly, and you him.

Once done, neither one of you could keep your hands off each other.

“Steve… please,” you mumbled against his lips. He could feel your hunger, which then fueled his. Skin on skin, the desire burning between you two could no longer be ignored.

He smirked. “I know baby, I know...” He whispered against your lips before flipping the two of you around and asking you to turn around and grip the back of the couch.

He got up and stood behind you. You knelt on the couch in front of him, legs spread apart, hands gripping the back of the couch with your back to him. You could feel him right there behind you.

He gripped your hair gently into a makeshift ponytail, and pulled your head back just enough to take your breath away. His soft, warm lips hovered over the side of your throat, kissing along your neck as his other hand reached around and toyed with your folds; his fingers furiously toying with your clit and making you moan.

“This is all you wanted, huh? To be fucked, and owned. You wanted my cock so badly, didn’t you?” His voice was deep and raspy when he spoke, his tongue licking along your neck while he abruptly stopped toying with your folds. “All this time, you’ve been practically begging me to fuck you. Well now’s the time baby. Go on, beg for me.”

You whimpered. Your body was on fire. You couldn’t take it any longer. You begged; wantonly, shamelessly. He chuckled and tugged harder on your hair, making you whimper and moan even more. “That’s a good girl.”

He gripped each side of your hips, tightly; spreading your legs apart a little more as he aligned his cock to your entrance. You shivered in anticipation as you waited. You couldn’t see him, and in front of you, through the large glass floor-to-ceiling window, you had a lovely view of the city lights but that didn’t matter anymore.

He hand reached around and gently grabbed you by the throat again. “Are we good, babygirl? You okay?”

You nodded quickly, heart racing, your body heated. “Yes, yes please...” You mumbled.

He gave you a gentle kiss on your cheek, his stubble pressing into your skin. You closed your eyes and bit your lower lip as his soft lips kissed along your lower jaw. “I’m gonna fuck your sweet little cunt until you’re shaking…” he murmured, more so to himself.

With a slow, steady push, he inserted his length into you. He groaned and grunted as he filled you up entirely. You heard his ragged breaths right by your ear as he removed himself out and pushed himself back into you again; your ass cheek pressing into his pelvic bone as he pounded into you.

You shuddered as you felt all of him, while he mumbled about how good you were. He panted in your ear, kissing the side of your face as his hand left your throat and roamed around your body, touching you wherever he could, memorizing the shape of you until he finally cupped your core and played with your swollen clit. Your moans were incessant, you could already feel a sore throat coming.

“You feel so good, baby…” he mumbled, slamming into you relentlessly, stretching you out and pounding into you like his life depended on it; the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the room.

“Fuck…” his voice cracked as he moaned under his breath.

You could feel your walls clench around him, and tighten around his thick member; making him swear out loud. Your body moved along with his, your legs felt numb as he relentlessly slammed into you.

Your moans got louder and he bent down to kiss along your shoulder blades and the back of your neck. “Take me, babygirl. Take all of me like you’ve dreamt of so many times…” he whispered against your skin as he rocked into you, faster and faster. He could barely hold it together himself but he had to give you what you’ve been wanting this whole time.

You were a teary mess, he couldn’t see but he could tell by the sound of your voice. The view of the city in front of you was now getting blurrier with each passing second. Yet, you still wanted more.

You cried out loud in pleasure as his hands gripped your hips, pushing you into him more and more each time he filled you up. You felt a sweet pressure forming in between your legs, intensifying each time the tip of his cock brushed against your sensitive spot.

“Steve…” you cried, unable to handle the pleasure. It was overwhelming.

He slowed down for just a second. “I’m right here, baby.” He kissed the side of your face. “I’m here, it’s okay. Are you gonna cum for me? You’re gonna be a good girl and cum for daddy? Hmm?”

You nodded, now a whimpering, tear-stained mess. He took you higher… and higher…

“Cum for me.” his voice was all it took for you to come undone. You came hard without any warning.

He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, he kept pounding into you as your eyes rolled back; kept slamming into you, chasing his own orgasm as your walls clenched around him, squeezing him like he had dreamt of last night.

He gripped your hair in his fist and tugged on it again, moaning right in your ear as he felt his orgasm forming. Your walls tightened around him, and he groaned as he came undone right after you; buried deep within you. His warm cum shoot at your walls and trickled out of you when he carefully removed his length from your entrance.

You were struggling to hold yourself up, your legs shaking and your body trembling. But Steve held you against him as he threw himself on the couch, pulling you into his lap. His body was damp and warm, and you loved the feeling of his strong arms around you. You buried your face into the crook of his neck.

He rubbed along your sides as he whispered comforting words in your ear. His hands rubbing your body everywhere he could. “You did so good, baby.”

---

You don’t remember getting to Steve’s bed the previous night, but that’s where you woke up; under his warm sheets, a pair of lips kissing your face gently.

“Wake up, Miss.”

You groaned. “Don’t call me that.” You mumbled from under the sheets. You tried sitting up and you felt sore in places you didn’t know one could feel sore. Steve caught the frown on your face and when you looked up and to send him a death glare, he just chuckled.

You noticed that he was dressed already.

“Come on now. We have to go.”

You hid under the blankets again. “No.”

He sighed. Of course, he should’ve known he’d have to deal with all your antics again. “You need to get home, and I need to get to work. Now come on, we have to go.”

You peaked from under the blankets. “Give me a kiss first.” You bargained.

He rolled his eyes and walked up to his bed, leaning over you. “You’re just gonna pull me back into bed with you and then we’re both not going to want to leave at all.”

You held both your hands out, “Just one kiss, I promise.”

He gave in, he leaned in and cupped your face with one hand and pressed his lips to yours. It started out all gentle and slow but then you pulled him closer by the back of his neck and he accidentally let out a moan. You tried pulling him back under the covers but he pulled away right before he gave in completely.

“No.” He pulled away. “Home, now.” He used the same tone as he did when waking you up for work each day.

You groaned and eventually, reluctantly, got out of his bed.

---

Everything was going great after that night.

Your days just got a whole lot better with Steve around. Sure, you kept being the brat that you are, just so he could drag you all the way to your bedroom and ‘teach you how to behave’ at any time during the day.

It was safe to say that you began catching feelings for each other. You brightened up Steve’s days and him yours. Bathroom quickies, morning sex, and spending nights together quickly became more frequent than you expected.

You teased him just the same, and it almost always resulted in him fucking you just how you wanted him to.

All was well.

Until your parents came home for a weekend out of nowhere. And they left just as quickly as they came but their arrival made Steve feel terrible. Steve couldn’t help but feel guilty when your father asked him if he was taking good care of you. Obviously, he guarded your little secret well. But he felt terrible, like he was betraying your parents.

He wasn’t supposed to do this. Above all, he shouldn’t have even thought that he could be with you. Really, what was he thinking? This was wrong. He worked for your parents, and you. This was unprofessional. Inappropriate.

You noticed that his stand-offish manner remained even after your parents were gone. So you confronted him about it one morning.

“Is everything okay between us?”

He looked up at you, and nodded. Truth is, he didn’t know how to let you down.

“Steve, seriously.”

He sighed. He walked over to where you stood and faced you with a look which gave away what he might have been thinking all this time. “This has to stop.”

Your heart raced. “What does?”

He pointed between you and him. “This.”

You were sure you could fix whatever was wrong. “If you’re worried about mom and dad finding out then-,”

He cut you off. “No. Listen to me. I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing here, like I’m leading you on because… let’s face it, we can never be together.” He could visibly see how he was breaking your heart. He took a deep breath. “I should have tried to make you see sense. I shouldn’t have… used you. I can’t help but feel like I’m using you, I-,”

You cut him off this time. “Steve, you’re not.” He stepped forward to cup his face but he caught your hands before you could, pulling away from you.

“You don’t understand. This… this can’t happen. It probably isn’t real. What you feel for me could be something else and you’re mistaken and-,”

You couldn’t believe him. “How dare you?” You got defensive really quickly, trying to hide how it hurt.

He got quiet. Maybe this was the wrong way of dealing with this situation?

You straightened your back and took a step away from him. “Look, if you don’t want me anymore then just say so. Don’t make silly excuses, we’re not children.”

He spoke up quickly. “All I’m saying is that you’re young. Perhaps you’re not thinking straight. Look, I’ve mistaken lust for love too in the past, when I was younger. It’s not-,”

You stopped him before he hurt you even more. You were hurt, but mostly angry at this point. “Just because I’m younger than you doesn’t mean that my feelings aren’t real or valid, or that I don’t know what I want. Also you have no right to water down my feelings like that. Who are you to tell me what I feel? How fucking dare you?”

He realized he must have dealt with this differently. But it was too late now, he hurt you. The sight of your watery eyes was unbearable, knowing that he’s the one who caused it. I’m sorry, babygirl. “Y/N, I’m just-,”

You raised your voice. “Enough!” You didn’t let your tears fall in front of him. “Screw you, Steve.” You grabbed your bag and made your way out of your house, got in the car and drove to work in anger and your heart aching.

You cried in the car before you got out. What happened? Everything was so perfect. Why did he feel this way all of a sudden? To a point where he made himself believe that what you felt for him wasn’t real? Where did that even come from? Did he think that you were just a confused young girl, seeking attention?

That bit really hurt. It hurt more because you fell for him, hard and it wasn’t something you could control.

You started your day rough, and it seemed it was only going to get worse because you’d be replaying the scene from the kitchen this morning all day long.

As for Steve, he was equally a mess as you were. He kept cursing himself as he tried his hardest to go about his day but the thought of your teary face this morning was haunting him in broad daylight.

He could’ve been less mean, more understanding. You were human after all. How could he have hurt you like that when all he ever cared for this whole time was your well-being?

He was upstairs doing something when your bedroom door caught his eye. He stepped in and immediately regretted all that he did this morning. It was unfair towards you and now he felt even more guilty.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, standing in the middle of your room. It smelt like you; floral, fierce and enticing. His favorite girl, how could have hurt you so much? He felt guilty, but perhaps he failed to see how happy he actually made you.

His eyes fell on your freshly made bed. In the past month following that night at his apartment, he had spent quite some nights here. Memories of all times spent with you, not just for the past month, but the past years as well flashed in his mind.

Oh he had fucked up.

He walked out of your bedroom, already taking his gloves off. He needed to change and go find you and apologize before it gets worse.

You were in the middle of yet another business call when you heard a knock on your door. You quickly wrapped up the call and called out in annoyance, “Come in.” You had been quite moody since this morning.

Steve was the last person you expected to enter your office this afternoon. You stood up immediately; not having the heart to tell him to get out. All your anger vanished the minute you saw him standing there, all that was left was the hurt. And fuck did it hurt.

He closed the door behind him and lingered around the door itself, still wondering how he should start his apology. Also the broken look in your eyes felt like a thousand daggers piercing him all at the same time.

“Came to tell me some more about how much of a stupid, young and confused girl I am?” You sassed. Your go-to method of dealing with emotions was to be as sassy and as ruthless as humanly possible, Steve was aware of that.

He sighed. “I came to apologize. I shouldn’t have said all that.” He took a deep breath and kept going. “I felt terrible when I spoke to your parents.” He finally confessed. “They trust me to take good care of you, like a guardian. But I have been…” he couldn’t find the right words. “I felt guilty. And it’s not your fault, but I couldn’t figure out how to deal with all this. I thought maybe if I push you away it would… I don’t know. I don’t know, Y/N. I’m sorry I hurt you.”

You listened, trying to grasp the reasons why he said what he said this morning.

“Then what made you think that I might be confused about what I feel?” You questioned.

He took a step forward, feeling terrible now that he was voicing out everything. “I don’t know, I thought that you- that maybe you… I-,’

You cut him off, repeating your question because you could tell he had an answer but didn’t want to tell you. “What made you think so, Steve? The truth, please.”

He stared into your eyes for a few seconds. “I thought that perhaps you weren’t sure about your feelings… for me. Why would you fall for someone like me, I mean, I work for your parents.” He let out a dry chuckle. “I thought that maybe you were mistaking everything that’s been happening since that night at my apartment to be… something it’s not.”

You scoffed. You simplified and rephrased what he had just said, “So you think that I’ve been going on about how much you mean to me just because you fuck me good?”

That felt like a slap across his face. “That’s not-,”

“Do you even like me? Or is it just… I don’t know, convenient sex to you?”

He had the same look of hurt on his face which you had this morning. “Don’t you dare say that. You know how I feel about you.” He had told you many times how he feels and he meant it. The fact that you even questioned him hurt.

You scoffed and nodded. You walked around your desk, stopping at the side of it. “Take a seat.”

He looked confused for a moment. “What?”

“Take a seat, Steve.” You pointed to one of the chairs and he walked right over without any question.

Your heart burned as you looked at him, wanting to just shower him with tender love and affection but you had to clear some things up first.

He looked up at you with his deep blue eyes, wondering if he had lost you for good. It would kill him if that were the case. He could no longer imagine his days without you.

“Do you remember the night of my 20th birthday, Steve?” You asked.

He looked down at his lap and cracked a little smile. “That was 6 years ago, Y/N. It’s a little blurry.”

You smiled at the memory. “Mom and dad were away, as usual. But they promised they would make it back before the night ends, for my birthday dinner. But then, they both forgot about it and later blamed it on the workload. I went to bed crying that night, like I had all day.” As you narrated that day, it helped him remember a little bit. You continued, “But then someone knocked on my door. It was you, standing there with a little cupcake and a candle. It was your day off but you were the only one who didn’t forget that it was my birthday.”

He remembered it now. He remembered how he found your little teary face when you opened your bedroom door and how you jumped in his arms.

He remained quiet.

You kept going. “The year after that, I begged mom and dad to be home for Christmas because I was dying to have some family time with them. But they called and said they couldn’t make it. Do you know who put with my shit and helped me decorate the entire house with obnoxious Christmas music on? You.”

He smiled a little bigger at the memory. He remembered how you pouted and followed him around the entire day, asking him to help you with decoration. He remembers the way his heart fluttered when he saw the biggest, most genuine smile on your face after he agreed to do so. He would do anything just to see that same smile on your face right now.

You stepped a little closer.

“Do you remember the times when I used to go clubbing almost every weekend? And you would have to track me down and bring me home safe at like three in the morning every time?” You chuckled at the memory. “And then you sat me down one day and asked me to get my shit together.”

He remembered that as well. That was one of the only times he had been so strict with you. He simply could not watch you waste your life away like that and put yourself in danger. He was glad you listened.

“And all those times when I missed mom and dad but I couldn’t call them because I knew they were always busy, so I called you. At odd hours and you would always show up. And you’d stay for as long as I needed you to. And I’d drag you along to go get ice-cream with me in the middle of the night. You remember that?”

He looked up at you and his smile vanished. You had tears streaming down your face. “Y/N…”

“It was you, Steve. It’s always been you.” You fought the need to cry. “I didn’t fall for you because of that night at your apartment. All these years, all those mundane things added up to now, when I can finally tell you how I feel and how important you are to me. And when you try to reduce it to nothing but lust and confusion, it really hurts.”

He got up from his seat. “Baby… I’m so, so sorry.”

You wiped your tears away. “It’s okay if you want nothing to do with me. None of this will affect your job, and my parents will never find out. You can walk out of this, I’ll understand. But don’t tell me what I feel for you isn’t real. Because it is. I love you, and that’s real.”

He closed the distance between the two of you, grabbing your face and to pull you closer gently. “Shh…” he whispered, one of his arms circling your waist and pulling you closer, “I’m not gonna walk out. I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed his lips to yours, gently. He kissed you passionately; arms wrapping around your body, tongue stroking the inside of your mouth while he occasionally bit down on your lip. Your hands found their way into his soft hair, you tugged on it gently while moaning softly into the kiss.

He gave you a second to catch your breath. “I adore you, babygirl. And that’s real too.” He mumbled against your lips before kissing you again while gently pushing you against the edge of your desk until you got on top of it. He stepped in between your legs and deepened the kiss. You gripped his hair and tugged a little more and he let out a quiet, breathy moan.

His warm hand caressed your thigh, given your dress had bunched up higher than before. His other hand gently held your lower jaw as he kissed and nibbled on your skin, down your neck; making you squirm and forget all about the world outside. Here, with him now, was all that mattered.

You felt his fingers lazily making their way across your inner thighs. His knuckles gently stroked your clothed core and you leaned your head back at the sudden wave of pleasure; letting out a soft moan.

Steve gently toyed with your still clothed, now wet, core. Your hand tugged on his sweater and you pulled him closer, placing your lips on his again. Your other hand dipped in between your bodies and you unbuckled his pants as quickly as you could. You felt him bite down on your skin when you palmed him through his underwear.

“Steve… I want you…” You whispered in his ear.

You moaned as he kissed his way up to your neck. “I know, baby. I know…” he pulled away to look at you with hooded eyes.

You lowered his underwear and pulled out his cock. He rapidly dragged your underwear down your legs and threw them somewhere behind him. He spread your legs open and aligned his cock to your core.

You could feel his tip, leaking with precum, slightly pressing against your clit. Slowly, he slipped inside of you, groaning at how tight you were. You felt his length stretching you out entirely. He started rocking in and out of you slowly, then eventually, he sped up.

“Steve…”You moaned out loud, feeling all of him; stretching you, filling you up, moving rapidly in and out of you to the point where the only thing you could focus on was his body.

“I’m right here, baby…” he whispered, pounding into you relentlessly, as he bent down to kiss your open mouth, swallowing all your moans and mewls in the process.

You whined upon hearing the wet, slapping sounds your bodies made when they came in contact with one another. Mixed with his scent and the growls leaving his mouth, it was all too sinful, too good.

“You’re all mine.” He stared down at you, his ocean blue eyes showing you all the love he had for you. You could only nod, unable to form coherent sentences while he pounded into you like he owned you. He leaned in again, kissing you softly. “Say it, babygirl. Tell me you’re mine.” he whispered against your lips.

Something about how he sounded so calm even while he was fucking you hard made you tremble under him. “I’m yours…” you whispered, shuddering under him. He smirked and sped up into you again, relishing the feeling of you wrapped around him like you were made for it.

Hearing you moan and squirm under him only encouraged him to thrust deeper into you, he wanted to feel all of you and he wanted you to feel all of him. He wanted you to know that he was here, and was not planning on going anywhere. He was relentless. He moaned right in your ear as his body moved perfectly against yours. “I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you so, so much...”

You whined; feeling a thin layer of sweat covering both your bodies as your walls milked him perfectly. A tear fell from your eye, out of pleasure. He was quick to wipe it away. He bent down and kissed your lips, pounding into you rapidly like his life depended on it.

“I love you more…”

He felt you clench and tighten around him, “Cum for me, baby...” He whispered, his voice strained and raspy. Your mind was foggy by now, and it took your brain a few seconds to even process his words.

Not even a few moments later, you felt him twitch inside of you; his cock throbbing against your walls. He came with a growl, gripping your hips. You whined as you came around him as well, hard and fast.

He didn’t pull his cock out of you as he engulfed you in his arms, tucking your head under his chin as he held you against his warm body. You could hear his frantic heartbeats, and he could feel yours.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered again.

You pulled away from his hug just a little so you could look at him. “Hey,” you reached out to touch his face. “Stop apologizing. We’re gonna be okay.”

He smiled down at you. “I’m gonna have to love you in secret.” He leaned down and rubbed the tip of his nose to yours. You giggled.

“Not for long. We’ll figure something out.” You grabbed him by his face and pulled him closer, and whispered dramatically, “Or maybe we could run away.” Your words made his smile. You pulled him in for a kiss, and whispered, “Till then, I’ll love you when no one is around.”

#butler!steve #steve rogers #steve rogers smut #stever rogers x reader #steve rogers au #marvel

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