#however they slightly changed the ink colors for milk chocolate and white chocolate. what if they do that again

[zaptap]

forgot to post the last splatfest icon so here's both of them (actually i made the post and put it in my drafts and forgot to publish it)

anyway last time around i picked team experiences because ive been rotting for a decade. sure money is nice but this is about what gift youd like the most and the amount of money i'd need to significantly change things is uhhhh way too much to be given as a gift (im talking like. buying a house and being able to afford all future costs associated with it. that sure would be nice. very unrealistic though)

also in terms of splatoon 3 i could use more experiences since im only level 62 (we need to unionize and make mr grizz give us exp from salmon run)

and for this splatfest i picked milk chocolate because thats what i picked last time (i still havent had enough white chocolate to form a solid opinion on it though)

[matchamorphosis]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 1-800-𝓘-𝓛𝓞𝓥𝓔-𝓤

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 || waiting for you and your beau’s dinner reservation later on tonight you and he spend valentines day together through the devotion of your dial rotary telephone

𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮 || fluffy smut

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 || steve rogers × [black//woc]!reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 || 4.6K

𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼 || 18+ nsfw, introduction to phone sex but i don’t go any bit further, body worship, captain kink, one bibical mention, reader gets spoiled to the t!, but still this is not suitable for anyone that isn’t 18+

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽𝓼 ||  move over darling by doris day ♡ all of me by billie holiday ♡ unforgettable by nat king cole ♡ dream a little dream of me by ella fitzgerald & louis armstrong

𝔀. 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮 || this is my gift for the divine @denisemarieangelina! for @chrissquares​ + @drabblewithfrannybarnes + @amythedvdhoarder Hoelentine’s Day Challenge! ♡ i’m very anxious to share this because i did this simpler version of writing then what i’m usually used to but I hope you enjoy this lovely and happy valentines day! muah! ♡ please tell me if you don’t like this because i can always add onto this if you want more! ♡ anyways i hope you cherubs enjoy this to! ♡♡♡

     BABY PINK ENVELOPES FILL THE SPACE IN YOUR HANDS

     humming along to the musing record that spins on the turntable the kitchen is alive with the sentimental lyrics of Nat King Cole and Billie Holiday you sway your leg over your knee as you read the bush colored letters. the quaint apartment complex fills with blissful warmth, for the maiden in the kitchen enjoys her breakfast yearning for her partner to return as quickly as he promised. analyzing the intricate curves and dips of Steven’s handwriting, it pulls you into a hypnotizing trance as your mind fills with nothing but his deep voice as you read along. 

     cordial elements wrapping the visible areas of skin your Valentine’s sweethearts button down doesn’t cover. it is a relaying fact that the crisp expansive piece makes your body seem petite but because of its obscene size the fabric falls past your shoulders in a graceful fashion. clumsily buttoning up the blazer wrongly that early morning, it only adds onto the carefree nature that exhibits and adds onto your soft sways and musical hums. 

     reaching for your steaming pink mug of milk chocolate cappuccino that lays near more open letters and more envelopes free from their wax sealings. you plan on opening all of them throughout the day, holding onto the handle you bring it up to your soft lips. attentive fingertips trace the cursive black ink of Steven’s handwriting in a lovesick gaze. the accidental ink splotches and small charcoal sketches of floral anatomy make the pace of your heart slow in a tender beat. 

     despite your devoted attention being on your beau’s love letters there are other envelopes that aren’t just from your Steven. although to make it easier to recognize the difference between the uninterested letter from past lovers and secret admirers Stevens envelopes are printed in your favorite shade of pink. 

     these darling letters that Steven is now confident to share with you are filled with small poems. being terrified of gifting you in the early phases of your relationship, your holding the multiple pages amongst pages of dazing sketches of your bodies beautiful features. paragraphs that outline his love letters to you which he kept hidden in a journal. reading and daydreaming as you take in each poetic sentence of your beau explain and sharing each love struck moment of his days that he adored spending with you. 

     the timeline of these letters go back from days, to weeks to whole years. it astounds you how you’ve never caught Steven in the act of writing poetry or making a love entrée yet you aren’t at all complaining. however the envelopes were a surprise to come across to when you looked over the mail. they weren’t in your daily sack delivered by the porter but laying in a huge pile on your kitchen island before he left that morning. 

     they went handsomely with his gifted bouquet of your favorite flowers that decorated each room of your apartment. a bud of them you found laying amongst the colorfully cream colored candles is now in your hair tucked behind your ear. Steven’s handwriting displayed on the front- 

     for my darling 

     they were just waiting for you to read and so here you are soaking in each vow hidden in his whimsical sonnets and ballads. 

      smelling both the sweet nectar of the flower and the divine cocoa of your cappuccino you continue reading from his letters. mirthful eyes dashing along each word of the little poem he wrote for you, the gleaming smile that frames your face doesn’t settle down one bit as you read and sing them not louder than a breathy whisper. giggling aloud and kicking your bare feet in the air when you read Steven’s beautifully crafted poetry centered and dedicated to you and only you. 

     the letters seem to distract you from the vast amounts of gifts, arranging from exquisitely wrapped small boxes to large gift bags bearing designer brands. Steven sent each gift along with the blush colored letters but they lie unattentively under your pedicured feet that bounce along with the turntable. singing along Billie Holidays lyrics of April in Paris as you continue to read and sip from your chocolatey cappuccino. the letters themselves are elegantly scattered onto the marble island where you bite into one of the buttery croissants that are bunched in a wooden basket you have prepared since the morning.  

     of course you weren’t supposed to eat alone, by all means this day of domestic and fairytale romance wasn’t suited to be spent alone. it of course isn’t suited for you in the slightest, not like you to bear this inconvenience. 

     in front of you -well behind the sketches your dreamily admiring- rests a large breakfast consisting of baked sweet and savory pastries, sunny yellow omelets and fresh ripe fruit. the early meal was suppose to be a little feast for both you and the public hero but of course your heroic beau had his urgent errands to run. a phone call rudely interrupted the session of your passionate lips and tongues destine to spiral you both on the cloud of desire. 

     the ringtone acting as nothing but an irritating background noise, it cause the blond to pull away to deal with it. walking away from you and out of your private bathroom suite and as obvious as this is going to sound- Steven didn’t decline the call. from your position as you sat on the marble and gold flecked kitchen sink, your hand rests on the golden swan at the faucet. 

     listening as you heard him hum along to whatever the dispatcher had to say before hanging up and heard his footsteps coming closer and there you say your lover. smiling to him as you pulled him towards you, lips gracing his he cut the devastating news to you of his unplanned errands. apologizing to you with a kiss but ending it with a promise for an intimate dinner reservation he did plan beforehand. 

     then with a change of clothes, he was out the door but you willed yourself to not be upset at him. your Steven always kept his promises and you were still swooning over the lovely events that happened last night that still show the results of it all on your skin and a delicious soreness in between your legs. ending passionately in wine soaking your thoughts and actions you both headed to your apartment and tangled in your sheets. you now are wearing his button up he wore to the dinner reservation that night, slightly wrinkled yet smelling of Stevens entrancing cologne.

     it brings you back to that night and you could still feel the searing butterfly traces of his lips along your collarbones, neck and breasts. dainty and vivid as the white sunshine that streams through the high white apertures of your apartment. 

     it’s all beautifully cinematic 

     the music playing on the record as you enjoy your breakfast while reading your lovers letters to you. chocolate spread used to smear over the flaky pastry in your hand smears the corners of your lips and you wish Steven is here to thumb it away. a sorrow filled sigh break through your lips, knowing these letters are all you have of him at the moment as he’s out busy at Stark Tower doing only god knows what and bumping heads with only god knows who. silence only greets those thoughts and you realize that the collection of records playing your favorite romance artists have stopped sounding out their hearty tunes. 

     frowning, you get up and replay the record before returning back to the kitchen and to your seat. hands go back to the letters and your heart warms up in a matter of blissful seconds, cheery contentment dawning your face in delightful charm. although a question still dances along the crowded ballroom of your mind-

     whatever will you do with the time you have alone on Valentine’s Day awaiting for your beau? 

     it is only eight in the morning, Stevens plans are set around nine tonight and you could do so much more than just doll yourself up. finishing your lavish breakfast you begin tidying up once you place another record on the sitting room turntable. the music flowing throughout the large and finely furnished apartment, it creates a heavenly picturesque glow that brightens the golden framed paintings and renaissance clawfoot furniture. 

      you feel like an old Hollywood actress staring in her romantic comedy, it makes you nothing but languorous glee. the beauty of your vivid imagination pulling your typewritten script and setting your scenes to hear the director yell action! manifesting the movie with each pirouetting step, you feel the timeless sensation of Audrey Hepburn and Elizabeth Taylor gracing down on from the heavens. 

     singing along with the records, recited movie lines from Breakfast At Tiffany’s and Rear Window. romantically immortal films consisting of elegant tailored outfits of Chanel and Moschino that the leading actress would flirt with her on screen partner, long and lust filled stares between your lover and the epitome of transatlantic accents that would make an European swoon. 

     the craftsmanship of your fantasy aiding you by hiding away any untouched breakfast foods, biting into a jam filled puff pastry you keep the sweet confectionery in between your teeth as you organize Steven’s letters. filing them from the ones you have read, that you carefully fold back into their envelops- to the ones you plan on reading later. clearing them away safely on an ivory tabletom dancing along with the beat of the record. 

     pulling yourself back into the visionary scene of your beloved vintage films, a baby blue Dior headband frames your heads crown and keeps your untamed bed hair away from your temple as you start a kettle of tea. retrieving your personally cherished china set from your glassy cupboards, soaking your desired teabags, home grown herbs and honey dewdrops into the separate porcelain teapot. turning the nob on the stovetop off once the screeching kettle ready with boiling water becomes louder than the music, it quietly dies down and you hum as you place the boiling water into the small porcelain teapot.

     steam erupting, its soothing when the scorching water drenches in the tea ingredients that begin to linger a sweet smelling scent. peachy cheeks soft and dewy as the sweet sunshine bounces off them, you carefully unfold each divinely wrapped box covered with glossy ribbons and confetti gift bag covered in strawberry scented tissue paper. blowing and sipping from your tea cup, you tenderly bundle Stevens button up around you as you examine his gift. 

     each eye grabbing and more expansive with each one passing you look over the heavy offering of baby pink and cream tulle trimmed Agent Provocateur lingerie. the occasion of lacey babydolls and pink fury teddys holding cupid hearts coming once with every three bags you also discover the silver Tiffany charms in powdered pistachio blue boxes. pastel pink heart-shaped pastel boxes of Chardonnet et Walker pink marc de champagne truffles make your mouth tingle.

     mink coats and cashmere sweaters dedicated to wrap you nice and warm in the snowy weather. a starlight smile shines at the fact of Steven remembering you looking through a few catalogues days after New Years. princess cut Dior earrings that shine like dangling stars and heart-shaped Prada handbags that would make any winged cherub strike their golden arrows into. 

     Steven always went above and beyond with your Valentine gifts and you weren’t even halfway done with opening the boxes and bags but seemed fit to prepare yourself for the day ahead of you.

     curves swaying along with Louis Armstrong's flaunting trumpet and Ella Fitzgerald's sweetly divine vocals once you get from your criss-crossed position on the floor. passing the wrapping paper and ribbon bows scattered in a sprawled lovecore mess, you make your way to your bedroom. bare feet adding against the carpet, passing golden framed body length mirrors and vase upon vase of flowers and burning candles. a silver tray bearing the porcelain petunia painted tea kettle, china tea cup and Stevens letters in your hands. 

     entering your open bedroom filled with crisp sunshine, your eyes dash over to your mess of a bed. white sheets that once held two giggling and kissing lovers is now empty with the exception of your pet laying lazily on the wrinkled plush comforter. blowing a kiss to the sleeping fluffy beauty before opening the molded white door to your private suite. 

     dancing along the white marble of the floor you run your bathtub full of hot water. taking your time preparing your dress and the lingerie you’ll wear tonight, it wasn’t exactly easy. Steven took a great joy in gifting you all the luxuries of jewelery, lingerie and clothing you desired, took great joy in fucking you in them as well. but as you enter the bathroom and exit to go through your wardrobe in your closets you go through boxes upon boxes of lingerie. 

     rummaging the organized baby pink boxes that you took hours organizing, you did realize that some bralettes were missing their panties yet you remember your gentlemen liked keeping a pair or two in his office when he’s away. you settle with not wearing anything Steven bought you but what you ordered on a website that caught your attention, more so intrigued of the fabulous singer and actress who ran the brand. 

     the divine deep red Valentines Day pieces of Fenty Lingerie were expansive but so was your credit card as you ordered the whole collection. hiding the box away from Steven and his too curious grasps you now reveal the box and open it. taking out the desired heart bralettes and Gartier belted thigh highs that went along with the lewd sheer panties you let out a delightful squeal at the thought of Steven ripping off your silk slip dress to reveal this sinful number.

     sipping from your tea, you go through your jewelry boxes settled on seashell chests on your vanity. retrieving your dearest diamond accessories to go along with the slip dress you head back to the bathroom. the water rising to your favorable height you fill the marble crest with rose petals, rose oils, rose water and rose bubble bath. of course, with Steven’s relentless showing of gifts there were enough Italian imported red wines for you to bathe in but you settled for your rose bath set that was tucked in the corners of your towel closet. 

     burning Diptyque candles around the tub, you settle your delicate cup down on the tray. departing from your beaus button down, you sink your feet and body into the floral water glowing in pearly bubbles smelling just the tint of sea salt. dissolving your thoughts and worries in the soft pink-hued mist your hands reach for Steven’s letters. carefully undoing the crimson wax seal your fingers grasp the letter and polaroid photographs it holds. 

     giggling when you read that this specific letter is about you and Stevens first time. reading along the lines of his amusing embarrassment of him not knowing what he was doing exactly it still warms your heart when he stated in his own writing that he was grateful and happy to share that moment with you. 

     the letter going into detail of all the moments that break you into laughter- such as when you and Steven rolled off your bed unaware as you and him were to wrapped in the passion- to your face heating up when he went into erratic detail of his hand placements on your ‘Aphrodite like body encouraging the Aries affair to overturn gracefully, to repent in no favor but yours’. 

     not being ashamed to write down every moment of the midnight passion. from the way you tongues and lips were locked and didn’t dare separate for air, to how his hands ripped your clothes into shreds ‘to praise and worship the skin that sparkled and shone like buried treasures for my hands to caress’. a heavenly burn begins fluttering in between your bubble sud thighs when you look over the polaroid's. some you took and some he took but all in all they showed you and him doing, well- 

     your first time 

     a slow hand that doesn’t hold the scandalous polaroid's flows down to your bubble covered breast. pinching the nipple, the sensation only sends the pleasure down south to your hidden jewel. biting your bottom lip, you crave for Steven’s hands. crave his lips, crave his touch... 

     generally, his attention but you cannot go past your golden rule no matter how good the thought of your fingers stroking your folds sounds. knowing its best to not break the rule of touching yourself without his permission the thought of it sits pleasantly in your head. trying to distract yourself the growing sensation with his other letters and plucking one of the fifty fluffy macaroons that lie on the pretty Laudree packaging. 

     Steven gifted you all the luxuries that would substitute his absence, but all you ever wanted was him

     heart thumping in this truth you again attempt to distract yourself with his blush colored letter. cooing at Stevens cute sketches of you and reading poems dedicated to his first impression when meeting you- but you cannot think of anything or concentrate on anything but the first letter. giving cheating glances back to the polaroid's, your glance is captivated by Steven’s handsome and muscled physique in the contrasted filter. the faintly colored noir-film like pictures emphasizing on his golden skin rippling against the sheets caging you in with his arms. 

     the night replays with the jazz music in the ballroom of your mind, throwing your head back you feel yourself underneath him just as you were then. hands in his hair and his clenching the sheets besides your head when you kiss passionately as he rubbed his hard member against your forbidden fruit.   

    it didn’t help your case at all that you’re embellishing that night into your thoughts. it’s only making you desire your sweetheart more and more, needing him more and more as the minutes passed. 

     wanting- no, craving to hear the sweet music that is his voice    

     yearning to descry the divine tinge of his tongue clicking to his teeth when you says your name so sweetly. to imagine the movement of his tulip petal lips as he speaks his ‘I love you’s’ like a prayer and he’s on his knees for a goddess.

     oh you needed it just as much as his instructions on how to handle your distressing state. realizing the soft pink dial telephone that stood at the opposite side of the tub you bite your lip in thought. 

     should you call Steven?

     it makes you wonder, shifting against the water careful to not spill any over the edge. chewing on a raspberry macaroon at the thought, you pout not knowing exactly what you’d say. you and Steven have been in a relationship for years now, it should be simple to call your lover and talk to him about this yet a sparking idea light up like a shimmering star above your head. 

     you and Steven were both helpless for dirty talk, your words and underlying message would pull him out of whatever he was in to cater to help you with your problem.

     your thundering impatience and searing lust had shameless minds of their own as you pulled the cushioned ottomon closer to you and dialed Steven’s office number through the rotary disc. heart strumming along with the music continuing to play in the distance you do not exhale a breath as you hear the sound of the phone dialing. the powdered pink handset in your hands. chin resting on the rim of the porcelain tub as your lips brush against the mouthpiece in the shape of a heart. 

     when the dial ends with the sounds of him about to speak a gleaming smile radiates off your lips, pulling the handset closer to you to speak.

     “Steven!” your giggle that follows afterwards makes a dimpled smile pull at the blond’s lips and he lightly chuckles. 

     your presence melting away anything else that captured his attention away from you. fortunately you weren’t the only one craving the love and affection of your partner, Steven was in a busy meeting with Tony and the other avengers at the grey and stern table. argued his way through and pursuing a solution to the worldly crisis that was in their hands but with the progress he’s making he’s sure to help the team come to an agreement.

     “how are you doing, my love? did you enjoy your gifts? i’m counting down the hours till I pick you up for our reservation. treat you how you should be treated today,” Steven’s tender words breaks your dreamy state and your wispy babydoll lashes flutter at the sound of his voice. 

     “well right now i’m taking a bath. drinking some tea, reading your letters and i just so happened to cross on this one specific letter…” your teasing voice flowing through the mouthpiece and into Steven’s ears. 

     striking his brain, trying to comprehend what you're saying and trying to decipher whether your giggles are aimed towards him or onto something else. you made it known how much of a tease you were, from your suggestive dresses you’d torture him with when you’d attend gala’s to your shameless yet elegant class as you’d whisper all the dirty things you want him to do you once you two got home.

    indeed it worked like a charm, sometimes it left little self control as he’d take you in that backseat of the sleek vehicle. it’s definitely working now

     “alright what are going on about you little minx?” Steven states, a tint of his dominance in his voice but you continue to drift in your fit of giggles as you bend your knee to your chest in exuberance. 

     pulling Steven’s letters that rest besides the silver tray of macaroons and tea, you hug them to your chest as you reread his paragraphs upon paragraphs of his thunderous thoughts and detailed emotions ravaging you in sinful detail. 

     “oh, nothing Stevie... just couldn’t stop thinking about a little something, do wanna know about it?” 

     “absolutely darling. anything is better then being in that room with those blockheads,” Steven didn’t know he said that thought aloud but you don’t care. 

     you’re panning on relieving the throbbing pleasure pulsing at your slicked core and maybe undo some stress he’s under if he’s a fair distance away from wandering ears.

     “will do Captain, ‘the second our mouths collided was an ambrosial taken place. a supernova in labor between our bodies thriving to find our peak, creating a cosmos of divination as her walls wrapped around my cock. the indescribable pleasure as unforgettable as the dimple at the corner of your fiery lips and enchanting sparkle in her eyes. the moans that flowed from her mouth soft and encouraging-

     “‘-as I wrapped her thighs over my shoulder and thrusted my cock deeper and deeper into her forbidden fruit. her sweet, forbidden fruit so sweet I wouldn’t dare reject if a serpent offered so.’ I was hoping you’d read that special one, you need to understand how lovesick I was for you then. i’m still lovesick about you now but its gotten impossibly stronger now than before.”

     that statement makes you shift in the water, rubbing your thighs together as your fingers rest in between them. imagining its Steven’s large hand that’s pinned at the plushness, however you’re yearning for the warmth, security and skill they hold that your hands don’t nearly possess.

     “lovesick you say?” you purr, the sinful sound rolling off your tongue it makes roses blush on Stevens cheeks.

    an unknown tightness of his trousers making itself known, he grits his teeth at your tactic but he cannot help it. he gives in so easily for you, it impossible to repent and withold

     “yes doll, i’m lovesick. lovesick for you and only you. now answer your Captain, did you enjoy your gifts?” his voice growing and deepening, lust soaking his thoughts and hardening his member at the thoughts of you, you, you.

    holding the phone in between your ear and should as you pluck another macaroon from the assortment. a smirk plays on your lips knowing that your plan is working, you can here his little grits and groans as he locks his office door. 

     “I did enjoy your gifts Captain, and I love the fact that seventy percent of them all are tiny pretty things that barely cover my body. I love giving you a good show when you get home from work,” your voice smooth as the buttercream roses you decorate with your heart-shaped cakes.

     your free hand tweaks at your nipple, the remands of strawberry vanilla from your previous macaroon stick on your tongue but how how you want to taste the pre cum that leaks from Steven’s tip. the filthy thought has you abandoning your breast to give attention to your cunt, a whimper excluding your lips when it burns so good at just the touch.

     “mhm I knew you’d enjoy them doll. you always pull such good performances for me in them. so sweet and pretty, all for me to rip it off you,” you don’t mean to slip past a moan as your fingers rub your pearl but it’s too late to take it back when he hear Stevens stern exhale.

     “are you touching yourself sweetheart?” his voice isn’t smooth and suave no more but raspy and demanding, making your fingers stop their rubbing motion.

     “n-no,” you fib but all you want to do is sink in the bubbly warm water when you hear Steven darkly chuckle.

     “don’t lie to your Captain sweetheart. are you touching yourself? tell the truth,” you gulp at that, mouth shaking as you bring the sound piece of the handset closer to your lips. internally hoping and praying that Steven will give in to you, even when you’re breaking a golden rule. 

     “yes. yes I am Captain,” your breathy whisper holds all the euphoria and lust you're body is swimming in and it doesn’t help that you hear the metal clank of a belt unbuckling.

     “without my permission?” you can’t decipher his voice, whether or not he’s angry or disappointed your fingers stop tracing the bubbly surface of the pink tinted water.

     “y-yes, Captain- but I just couldn’t help it! you left me and my mess alone this morning. i’m so lonely here without you,” you mellow, your fingers once again tracing your lower lips. 

     not daring to plunge them deeper once you hear the light sound of Stevens heavy breath fanning into your ear. shivers sending up and down your spine deliciously, it’s like he’s here with you now even when he’s on the other side of the city.

     “mhm, you just couldn’t help it, sugar can’t you? you need me right now don’t you sweet girl? you need your Captain to help you?” nodding hysterically along with him.  

     coming to a realization that your lover can’t see you nod your head, your pretty lips you’d let him kiss and use any day pull into a pout. knowing you’re going to have to beg him to allow yourself to touch your pussy.

     well, his pussy

     “yes please! I-I need you Ste- Captain! please I need you!” your breathy voice begs and on the other end Steven has a smirk playing on his handsome face. 

     it’s hours until he’ll be done with his meeting and hours until he picks you up for your dinner reservation but he’s in your debt. you never know this but Steven was sprawled in your hand, whatever you desired and needed he’ll give you within the snap of his fingers. if you needed him when he’s away, he’ll make it seem he’s right near the tub. guiding your fingers in and out of your hole and leaving praises and affirmations into your ear.

     “how can I say no to you doll?”

♡♡♡ thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ pretty please like, reblog and/or comment what you think and if you enjoy this follow me to read more of my future works! ♡♡♡

𝓇𝑜𝓈𝒾𝑒'𝓈 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 || @cloudystevie ♡ @steebsbabygirl ♡ @lovelyblxckgirl ♡ @honeychicana ♡ @afriendlyblackhottie ♡ @bearbear0923​ ♡ you may comment down below or throw me an ask if you’d like to join my taglist!

𝓭𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓬𝓻𝓮𝓭𝓲𝓽 || @chrissquares​ ♡ go follow her account and check out her fics! ♡ she also has loads of cute dividers and other related things! ♡♡♡

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ my storybook || aka my masterlist!

[littlemulattokitten]

The Game - Chapter 2

The Game - Chapter 1

Day 2

7:00 AM

Contestants Remaining: 17

He slowly shook his head at the monitors. There were nineteen in all. Yesterday, he’d turned off two, shut down those two safe rooms, and turned them into puzzle rooms for the next challenge. Now there were only seventeen – fifteen rats, the maggot, and the angel with broken wings.

The angel was curious the night before. She’d found the sliding panel to her bathroom, expressed her gratitude, and made a comment under her breath thanking him for the two-ply after musing if the quality of the toilet paper was why he’d given them off brand crayons.

He laughed and bought her —only her—name brand colored pencils for the next activity.

The maggot found his bathroom attempting to find some means of escape. He complained that there wasn’t a mirror.

He was ignored.

Several of the mice found their hidden panels as well, but some had to ask. He put ticks next to their names on his clipboard.

The angel’s name was written in light blue ink. She would never receive ticks.

The maggot’s was written in dark red, separated from the main list, at the bottom of his paper. His ticks were implied.

The mice were in black. The one’s with less ticks would suffer the least. The others he would play with.

He watched them wake up, minded the time, and ended up using his system of modified dumbwaiters to send generic, pre-packaged breakfasts to the mice with no food allergies. The ones with restrictions got altered meals. The maggot got bread, a half glass of milk, a bottle of water, and a string cheese.

While the four automated dumbwaiters sent the correct meals to the designated rooms, he left the monitoring room and boarded the lift in the short hallway.

He made his way into the kitchen once he was upstairs, took note of his stores of food, and started making two omelets. Then two servings of toast with grape jam. He grabbed an energy drink, tried to decide what fruit she might prefer that morning, and settled on two kiwis and a mango. After cleaning and dividing the fruit into two portions, he finished with the omelets, plated them, and grabbed another chocolate chip biscuit.

He put his plate on his desk and held hers while the dumbwaiters finished their rounds. The first one to finish got her plate and he used the digital interface to send it to her. While waited for it to arrive, he sat back at the monitors, and waited to see her reaction.

And he didn’t start eating until she did.

~~~~~

It wasn’t meant to be this way.

You needn’t have changed your tune.

How dare you.

She trusted you.

I should have killed you then…

But I suppose late is better than never.

~~~~~

~*~*~*~*~

Hermione woke up early. She was still in the white room, to her unsurprised disappointment, but she stood and stretched anyway. It wouldn’t do her any good to lose her head, despite how much being trapped in some madman’s twisted underground prison might support the losing of one’s head.

So far, aside from the kidnapping of however many people aside from herself that he was holding captive, he’d only made them solve a riddle. That seemed pretty mild compared to some of the demented serial killer horror stories she’d heard on the news over the past few years.

His crayons might be offbrand trash, but she was being fed well so far. And she had a decent enough bed to sleep on. She had a bathroom. She probably wouldn’t have a job anymore whenever she got out of this place but she also didn’t have her awful coworkers to deal with at the job she loathed.

She was worried about her cat, but Crookshanks had figured out how to get into his food bags before and would probably claw one open if he really got hungry without her. And there were two extra bags in the laundry room she was certain he’d find…

So Hermione stretched and sat on her mattress with a small yawn, deciding to enjoy the solitude, despite how she came to have it, and wait for something to happen.

When the dumbwaiter across the room slid open, she only hesitated for a moment before going to inspect its contents.

She hadn’t been expecting a hot meal.

Still, she accepted the plate of food and sat back down before beginning to eat slowly. An omelet, fresh fruit, toast, and another biscuit. The only thing missing was a pot of tea, but she could live without that.

When she finished and returned the plate to the dumbwaiter, however, it was as if “M” had read her mind, because the next time the panel opened, it held a single mug of tea and two bottles of water.

“M” didn’t address them until the clock on the wall read 9:00 AM and Hermione anxiously sipped her tea as he spoke.

Good morning, everyone. I see some of you slept better than others.

I feel congratulations are in order for the lot of you. I was expecting more failures yesterday than we had. Only two of didn’t complete my little challenge.

Hermione stared at her ceiling in a dissociated sort of horror. He hadn’t explicated stated that those two were dead, but the day before his threats had been quite clear. Passive, perhaps, but clear.

I’m impressed with some of you. Outright shocked with the majority. But there were a few who I expected excellence from, and they were rewarded accordingly when they delivered that excellence.

I believe the Americans have a phrase: ‘smart cookie’. Doesn’t sound quite as pleasant when you change it to biscuit, but the concept stands.

Smart cookies get cookies.

So, if you got a biscuit yesterday, or this morning, well done.

If you didn’t, well… Better luck today, perhaps.

And I do have another challenge for the rest of you today.

In a few moments, a hidden door will open in each of your rooms and will remain open for the remainder of the day. It leads to a small room, in which various tools will become available to you. Each of you will be given a slip of paper with instructions.

But you’ll have to figure out how to read them on your own.

You have until 10 o’clock tonight to complete your tasks.

I suspect a much larger number of you will not be with the rest of us tomorrow.

Silence filled the room for several moments before Hermione remembered to breathe again. She tried in vain to sip her tea and calm her nerves, but her hands still trembled around the mug. The panel in her wall didn’t startle her, but she had goosebumps when she went to receive her instructions: a small sealed envelope and a paper bag wrapped around something thin and rectangular.

At 10:00 AM on the dot, a panel slid open on the wall across from her mattress. Hermione hadn’t even been able to tell there was a door in the main walls, despite finding her bathroom, and entered it cautiously.

The lights in the room were movement activated, blinking on once she crossed the threshold, and she found that it was only slightly bigger than the room she’d been sleeping in. There was a small whiteboard mounted to the wall across from her. There were several solid colored baskets along the wall to her right and several solid colored toys and objects lined up on the wall to her left. There was another speaker in the ceiling.

She was confused.

Sitting in the middle of the floor, she carefully opened her envelope and pulled out the small white card inside.

Chg gur oyhr onyy va gur erq onfxrg.

Oernx gur lryybj ong. Chg gur cvrprf va gur oyhr onfxrg.

Jevgr svefg anzr bs lbhe ybire ba gur punyxobneq.

Hermione took a slow, calming breath. It was just a cipher. Hopefully each line was solved by the same key, but still, it was just a cipher.

Putting the card in front of her, she reached for the plain paper lunch bag and unfolded it so she could remove its contents as well.

She stared at the twelve pack of Crayola colored pencils, feeling a sense of dread crawl down her spine.

Obviously he could hear into her room, but he could hear things she muttered to herself, even phrases that were barely audible to her own ears?

If he’d given her name brand art supplies this time, was is some sort of sadistic nod to her sense of humor? Had she annoyed him or entertained him?

Hermione rubbed the goosebumps from her arms and surveyed the room, filled with a muted sense of dread.

It was going to be a long day, she thought.

~*~*~*~*~

By midafternoon she was tired, had a stress headache building in her temples, and had started to wonder if she would live to see the next day.

Granted, the next day would involve remaining in a maniac’s prison, and she likely would never return to the world outside, but she tried her hardest not to dwell on those things.

It didn’t keep her from acknowledging all the things she would never get to do if she died in the sterile white rooms.

Tears prickled at the edges of her eyes and she rubbed them away bitterly. She’d been through enough in the last few years, lost enough, hurt enough for a lifetime, and now she was being held prisoner by a psychopath who’d watched too many horror movies.

When the threat of tears had been rubbed into submission, she glanced at her cipher again and eyed the sheets of paper “M” had allowed her to ask for, each with several possible cipher keys scratched out in various name brand colors.

A quiet, bitter thought danced in the back of her mind and brought the burning back to her eyes.

Tom would’ve figured this out by now.

She grabbed the dark green pencil, Tom’s favorite color, snapped it in half, and chucked the pieces across the room. They smacked against the white board, but the sound wasn’t satisfying enough to placate her. She brought her knees up and let her forehead fall against them, fully aware that she was pouting, but unable to care.

“Damnit, damnit, damnit,” she muttered. She’d been a coward then and she was a fool now. She should’ve reached out to him. Should’ve tried to salvage a lifetime of friendship when she had the chance, but she’d avoided him instead.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She’d tried every cipher type she knew from Tom, which were few in number, to no avail. She’d tried picking out the most commonly repeated letters and trying to put them together, but she guessed there were too many vowels involved, and to many three letter words, for her to be certain which words were which.

There was something that would lead to the key. She just didn’t know what.

And Hermione was certain she was overthinking the whole thing.

“You’re either not thinking enough or thinking too much,” she said quietly. It was a phrase Tom had said to her more times than she could count, but it was true. She either overlooked the obvious or ignored the simple answer looking for the most complex and sophisticated solution. But solutions weren’t always as difficult as possible. Sometimes they were easy. Sometimes she just needed more patience, he’d said.

She didn’t know where a man with such a temper has accumulated so much patience for such cerebral activities, but he’d loved logic games twice as much as she did.

Would he react as all, she wondered, if news every reached him that she’d disappeared? Probably not. She’d burned that bridge more thoroughly than she’d intended.

Feeling dejected, she picked up another pencil and grabbed a sheet of paper that wasn’t covered in angry scribbling yet.

She’d just have to keep trying.

~*~*~*~*~

She spent three more hours going through Caesarean cipher keys in numeric order. When she finished with the ninth, she had to take a break for another mini pity party, then started trying on the next one.

The longer she tried to solve the puzzles the harder it was not to think about Tom.

She was on mental autopilot while she kept going through ciphers. Ten, eleven, twelve. None of them worked.

She was almost done with thirteen when she realized she was writing recognizable words, and stared at her paper in shock.

Jumping up, she hurried over to the whiteboard across the room and used the single black marker to write out the cipher message, leaving gaps of space between each line so she could write under them. Then she wrote out the entire alphabet beside it, again leaving spaces, and started from A.

Thirteen spaces over started the alphabet at N.

N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M

A B C D E F G H J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Chg gur oyhr onyy va gur erq onfxrg.

Put the blue ball in the red basket.

Oernx gur lryybj ong. Chg gur cvrprf va gur oyhr onfxrg.

Break the yellow bat. Put the pieces in the blue basket.

Jevgr gur anzr bs lbhe ybirq bar gur juvgrobneq.

Write the name of a loved one on the chalkboard.

A few broken huffs of hysterical laughter left Hermione as she put her head in her hands.

She had been overthinking it.

The blue ball found a new home in the red basket. The yellow toy baseball bat was made of thin wood, not plastic, and snapped in half easily. The pieces were thrown into the blue basket.

She erased her solved cipher with the sleeve of her jumper and picked up the marker again.

Plenty of people came to mind, both living and deceased, but one kept coming back to the forefront.

“My last task,” she said quietly, hoping her captor was listening. “How do I know you go after whoever’s name I write?”

He didn’t respond right way.

You don’t. But I will say that it would only benefit me to ‘go after’ very few people in acquaintance with any of my contestants.

“That’s, not exactly comforting,” she sighed. “Is this why you thought more people would fail today? Because we wouldn’t be willing to put someone we care about in danger?”

Again, there was hesitation before M answered, and she was surprised with his seemingly candidness.

There is only one person you could name that is in any sort of danger from me. Someone who would have no qualms about leaving you for dead.

Seeing as he’s done it once before.

Hermione felt the blood leave her face. “How could you possibly know about that?” she asked, hating how shaken she sounded.

Perhaps you would be better served by completing your final task and enjoying your free time than fretting over things that will only stress you further.

I couldn’t help but notice that you’ve had a rather trying day.

Hermione snorted bitterly, but uncapped the dry erase marker anyway and quickly wrote Tom’s name on the board.

“If anything happens to him,” she said as she went back to her ‘living space’, “I’ll personally drag you into the deepest layers of hell. Even if I die here. Lay a hand on him and you’re coming with me.”

M didn’t respond to her that time. At least, not verbally, and she wanted to feel foolish for threatening the man who could absolutely kill her in her sleep, but couldn’t muster up enough sense for shame.

She’d meant every word.

She must’ve fallen asleep on her mattress, because the sound of the panel in her room opening startled her awake.

This time her dinner was a large beef pasty, vegetables, more bottled water, a bottle of apple juice, and another bag of crisps.

And two more chocolate chip biscuits.

~~~~~

It wasn’t meant to be like this.

This needn’t have gone on for so long.

I saw the photographs. He hurt you.

Why did you keep going back to him?

Why didn’t you come home?

~~~~~

@meowmerson