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[theblogs2024]

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[linnytheseagull]

More classic literature YouTubers because it's so funny to me

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[thevapegiant]

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[lisenberry]

We drift in and out

Chapter 3: Did I find you, or you find me?

E/NSFW/MDNI

CW: Consensual Somno, Light Breeding, Canon-Typical Violence, Angst

6k (I know, I went nuts)

10k COMPLETE!

This whole fic started with one picture of a man with hairy arms holding a baby. Everything that came after was a fever dream.

Ch. 1 , Ch. 2, AO3

You had one last night together.  Eighteen short hours before a black Land Rover would pick him up and take him away.  Off to catch a plane to some forward operating base in a remote, foreign place.

He’d been home with you for four months, by far his longest leave yet.  With each day, you’d gotten more comfortable, wondering if maybe he’d become permanent.  That instead of just playing house, you were living something real.  Building something special together.

That your plans could change, and you could let the fearful part of you rest.  That doubtful voice that kept you always prepared.  Always on.  The survival mode that kept you moving forward but also stopped you from slowing down long enough to breathe.  To enjoy.

It was a skill that benefited you in your work.  The single-minded attention to detail and success.  And when you’d learned you were pregnant, it had kept you from giving into the panic of the unknown.  But once she was born, you didn’t have a choice, but to sit with it all.  The joy, and the exhaustion.  Slow, blissful days had become your routine.    

Now you were facing the plan again.  The one he wasn’t in.  You’d survive, of course, but the bleakness of it cut like a wound.  You should’ve known nothing so perfect could last forever.  Maybe you did know, deep down.  Maybe he did, too, and that’s why you kept each other just a bit out of reach. 

But you still had a little more time.  A few more memories to make before it came to an uncertain end.

You popped out to Marks & Sparks for supplies to make dinner.  It had become a little holiday for you in the last few months.  He’d stay home with the baby, and you’d put on real clothes and do your hair and escape for a few hours to squeeze the fruits and smell the cheeses.  Go aisle by aisle and daydream about new recipes to try.

Not this time.  This time you hurried through as fast as you could.  Wasted not a minute as you snatched up everything on your list and rushed to get back to them.

They weren’t in your apartment when got home, so you crossed the hall and knocked on the door to his. 

“It’s open!”  His voice rang from inside, as you tried the knob and walked in.

He had the baby’s highchair in the kitchen, and the dining room table set with fine china and candles.  Music crooned from some hidden speaker, something classical you’d never heard before.

“What’s all this?”  You asked, as you set down the bags of groceries on his counter. 

“I thought we could eat out tonight.  Something different.”  He stood with his hands at his hips, and a burp cloth strung over his shoulder.  A scheming smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.  They didn’t crinkle at the edges the same way you’d gotten used to.

“You’re okay with me making a mess of your kitchen?”  You teased.  “You know I’ll use every pan and utensil at my disposal.”

Your place was lovely, but his side of the building had twice the space, and a balcony that overlooked Hyde Park.  During the few times you visited, it had felt like stepping into a different world.  Like a fancy hotel suite in a far-off country, in the way that it had visitors but never really felt lived in.  Sanitized into a blank slate, adaptable to anyone who crossed the threshold in search of an escape from their mundane reality.

Or like a museum, it was a place that existed outside of time. 

“You cook, I’ll clean up.”   He leaned his hips back against the granite and opened his arms to it welcomingly. 

It made sense that he’d want to spend his last night in his own home.  His own bed. 

“Suit yourself,” you plopped a smacking kiss on the baby’s downy head as she sat contentedly in her chair, chewing on a colorful toy.

When you turned your attention back to him, he waited patiently for his greeting.   The longing with which he first looked at you and your daughter the day you’d come home was back again.  It had seemed like the start of something then.

This time it felt like the end, as you pulled up on your tip toes and pressed a kiss to his lips.  Short and sweet.  If you hooked your arms around his neck and buried your face in his neck, like every corner of your soul was aching to do, you’d never let go.

The food would rot on the counter and the hard things would never get done. 

So, you settled back down and unpacked the bags in front of you. 

“Will you pick the wine?  I’m making your favorite.” 

In lifetimes past, you would’ve dressed up and gone to The Midland in King’s Cross for dinner.  Fed each other oysters and champagne.  Danced until the early hours of the morning and crashed wildly into bed.  Shared a cigar afterwards, naked but for the shelter of each other’s arms.

This time, you made roast beef with fingerling potatoes, minty peas, and glazed carrots.  Topped with gravy and with a side of Yorkshire pudding to sop it all up.

It’d be some time before the baby could join in on the feast, but she flailed with enthusiasm at the smells and the excitement with which the two of you ate.  Oblivious to how much her lukewarm cereal and the bottle that she could now almost hold on her own paled in comparison.

In place of a West End show, there were airplane spoons and milky sneezes to keep you laughing.  Something to focus on besides the future.  Besides each other. 

The chasm that was too deep and too far to cross, let alone name.

As if on cue, with the last sip of wine, she started to fuss.  Fisted her eyes and arched her back in surrender as John rose to soothe her.  You’d have many more nights to put her to bed, but who knew what awaited him.  You gave him the time alone as you collected the place settings and started the cleaning that he’d promised you.

The little one sighed so heavily against his chest as she curled into him, burying her fingers in his shirt.  You knew the feeling, ached for it as you silently cursed your ability to dirty so many dishes making a meal. 

He was gone long enough for you to handwash the china and fill the dishwasher, and you wondered if she fought sleep, or if he simply lingered a little longer.  Did he tell her a story, or share some secret that was just between them? 

The polished wood floorboards creaked under his weight when he finally returned to the kitchen.  There was a stiffness to his towering form, as if he was flexing under an invisible weight.

“Just in time.  Everything’s already done,” you chided, gently, as you dried your hands on a towel.    

“I set her up in the portable crib with the monitor.  In the bedroom next to mine.”

“Her first sleepover.”  You still couldn’t look at him.  You hadn’t yet, had you?  Not really.  Not since he got the call earlier that day.

Since you’d told him he was never meant to be a part of your life.  That you could live without him.

A lie that he’d surely seen through, but you needed to keep for yourself as you busied your hands and kept your back to him.

But he wouldn’t let you hide, as he stepped behind you and pulled you in. 

“Don’t pull away.  Please.  Not yet.”  He tucked his grizzled chin into the curve of your neck. 

“I’m trying.”  You let your head fall back against him, vaguely aware that the music was still playing.  Something sad and slow as you swayed to the beat of it.

His hands rested on your hips as he spun you around to face him.  If a kiss could fix everything, you gave it to him then.  Did your best as you fisted his hair and pulled him down to you, while his palms roamed lower to cup your ass and lift you onto the counter.

Like meat and wine, you savored his lips and his tongue as he delved even deeper.  Splitting you open and demanding more.  Demanding everything. 

Your shirt was over your head and his roughened fingers scratched along the skin of your back, massaging and kneading the sides of your spine while he unhooked your bra.  The same muscles you’d kept rigid all day he coaxed into pliancy with each stroke as a weak moan slipped past your lips.

“That’s a girl.  Be soft and sweet for me, will you?”  He started off slow at the tip of your ear, trailing light, tickling kisses down the shell and to where the lobe met your neck.    

It sent shivers down your arms, and your naked breasts budded to peaks as they grazed against the cool smoothness of his shirt.  You didn’t want cool, or smooth, just heat and texture as you pulled it off his shoulders and wrapped your legs around his hips.

He groaned at the contact, a fierce and hungry sound as he took one of your hands and slotted it between you.  Pressed your palm against the bulge in his pants and grinded against it, letting you feel the way it grew and hardened at your touch.

“Tell me you’ll miss me.  Fucking lie to me, just say it,” he grated out, against your collarbone.  Miss him?  Lie to him?  It would be a lie to say you wouldn’t.  “I need to hear you to say it.” 

“I miss you already,” you whined, as you slid your hands from his groin to his ass and anchored him closer to the dampening heat at your core.

“I’m right here.” 

“Then take me to bed.  And show me how much you’ll miss me.”  It was your turn to grind against him, rubbing the bud of your arousal greedily along the lip of his fly through your thin linen pants as your tits bobbed wantonly against his furry chest.

“Not going to last long if you keep doing that, love,” he growled, lifting you up again and carrying you down the hallway.  “I’d rather take my time.”

And he did, starting with his fingers, then his mouth.  Drawing out each sensation like he was mapping the stars.   Exploring the far reaches of your body and forging new paths until you were shaking and spent. 

You marked him in return.  Staked a claim on the meat of his pec with a dark red love bite as he came hard and hot inside your pulsating quim.  Filled you up with a contented smile on his face, as if there was no better feeling in the world.  No place he’d rather be.

“Be back before it fades, okay?”  You nuzzled the hair around the spot with your nose as you drifted off beside him, his fingers lazily circling your hole to push the leaky drops of his seed back in. 

Did he have hopes that it would take? 

Did you?

Later, a strangled sound, like a wounded animal woke you from a fitful sleep.  At some point, you must’ve turned to your side and faced away from him because he was behind you.  Pulling at your hips and burying his head between your shoulder blades.

“John?  What is it?”

“Just a dream.  A bad dream.” 

You felt the swell of his cock as he sought out the smooth shelter between your thighs.  Arching against him instinctively, you curved onto your back and parted your legs as he absently rutted around to find your opening.  Still brimming with the sticky spend from your last bout.

He’d always been a giver, but this one was just for him as he worked out his nightmare on your flesh, your insides, your soul.  It felt like a battle.  A whole damn war as he smothered you with his heavy, dead-weight body and took ground, pounding away at your sensitive, stimulated cunt.

You wondered if he was even awake, or if he was still in the dream, as he fucked into you roughly and muttered far away words.  Bit back his own tears as they mixed with the sweat on your skin.

“Mine...Fucking mine...Not letting you go...Not to anyone else...”

Deprived of oxygen from his bulk on your chest, you almost blacked out with the force of your climax, caught by surprise at the way the mound of hair at his base aroused your clit into bloom with each thrust.  A tenderness amidst the brutal onslaught.  A divine mercy. 

If you had air, you’d have screamed at the intensity of it.  Spotty flashes of light broke the darkness as you felt the last of your spurting aftershocks flutter around him, soaking you both and easing the incinerating friction from the stretch of him. 

You could only clench your teeth and your walls as he shuddered with the strength of his own fresh release.  With his face buried in your shoulder, you knew he didn’t smile this time.  The sorrow of it hit you like a blow to your heart as you felt him stiffen with awareness, the fog of sleep clearing from his consciousness.

“I’m yours.  There’s no one else, John,” you panted, begged, as he eased up onto to his elbows to give you enough space to take a breath.  “Only you.”

********

Before you knew it, the black Land Rover was waiting like a harbinger along the street below.

“Here’s the keys to the truck, and to my place.  Just in case.”  He tossed a set into the bowl you kept on the sideboard.  “I know how much you’re dying to go spying in my cupboards.”  He raised a amused eyebrow to match the gentle hitch in his mustache.

“I wouldn’t do that.”  Except you totally would.  At the first opportunity.

“Afraid of what you’ll find?”

“An expired box of Earl Grey in the kitchen, perfectly sorted socks in the bedroom.  Stinky smelling beard oil in the bathroom.”  You flashed a cheeky grin at the last, in an effort to keep the tone light. 

If he could be strong, so could you.  You wouldn’t be the one to break.  No matter what you felt like on the inside.  You’d save it for when he was gone.

“Beard oil?  This is all natural.”  As if you’d insulted his manhood, he smoothed his mustache down with two hands, in a way you’d seen him do a thousand times.  He’d trained any willfulness from his facial hair with nothing but nose grease and perseverance.  Molded by time and patience, like marble cliffs and silt-shined creek beds.

“But I was right about the socks though, wasn’t I?”

“And the tea.”  He hitched his mouth into a smile and turned his focus to the gurgling baby perched on his hip, yapping and cooing like she was in on the conversation.

The way he looked at her gave you hope that he’d call it all off.  He’d sit back down on the couch and turn on the football.  Put his heavy feet up on your table and let his flight leave without him.

“I’m sure we can find some priceless antiques in there she can teeth on.”  They would start coming in soon.  Another change he’d miss.

“Look, you don’t have to wait.”  He paused to clear the words he was looking for from his throat.  “I understand if you—”

“I just got you, John,” you cut him off, saving him from the self-sacrificing speech, and looked down at her chubby fist wrapped in a white-knuckle grip around his finger.  “You’re not getting rid of us yet.”

Don’t let go, sweetheart.  Don’t let him go.  You willed it into her with your own thoughts.

Your world had gotten so small since she was born.  You’d gone from having a job that needed you, coworkers and clients with a network of responsibilities, down to having just one job. 

One person who needed you.

But it would’ve been a lot smaller without him.  How lonely would you have been without someone to share it all with?  How much of him had seeped into your life, and your heart?

“Be nice to your mum,” he whispered against her soft head, as he kissed her cheek and passed her back to you quickly.  Looking everywhere but at you.  “You have Kate’s number?  In case you need anything?”

You pulled him closer with your free hand to his waist, forcing him to see you.  Eyes wide and blue, he looked scared.  For the first time.

Anything more than a kiss to the forehead would have broken you both.  You’d already said your goodbyes the night before, and again that morning.  So, you simply tilted your head up to him, your own eyes kind and trusting, and felt his beard graze your skin one last time.

And then you watched him go.

********

By the third week, nothing in your apartment smelled like him anymore.  Everything had been washed, and the windows had been left open too long to let in the cool fall breeze.  Looking around, you realized that nothing in your home was his.

He’d come through your life with a force and left no trace behind, as if he was never even there.  It wasn’t right.  You wished with renewed clarity that you’d taken more pictures of him.  That you’d recorded every moment. 

Something to show your daughter, someday, if she ever questioned whether or not she was loved.  Something you could show yourself, when your mind tricked you into believing it was just a dream.

It was the need to seek out that connection, that comfort, that had you unlocking the door to his flat and letting yourself inside.  It was dark, and too quiet.  Cold and cavernous, like he was the one who heated it and gave it light. 

With the baby bouncing on your hip, you explored from room to room.  Three bedrooms and four bathrooms.  And still, you couldn’t find a trace of him anywhere there either.

His sheets had been washed since you’d spent the night.  His bathroom scrubbed of any lingering soap by the cleaning company that came once a month to keep it free of dust and spiders while he was away.

Trapped in time until the next visitor passed through.

Your grief and frustration sprung anew as you moved into his office.  Surely it would have something.  The indent of his body in a leather seat, or the half-burnt end of a forgotten cigar.

But his chair was too firm to leave a crease, and his ashtray was clean.   

There were no medals or honors hung along the walls, and the top of his desk was empty, except for one framed photo.  It was exactly what you were looking for, but at the same time, something you never expected.

It was from four years before, when he’d talked you into running a marathon together for a charity for wounded veterans.  You remembered the day clearly but never knew someone had taken a picture.  It must’ve been at the end, because you were both dewy-faced and soaked in sweat, smiling like mad.

His arm was around your shoulder and yours was at his waist.  You looked like a couple.  Like you were in love.  Was that how you always looked when you were together? 

Was this what you’d been missing out on all this time?

Surely, there were others.  You’d open a drawer and find photos of him with other people.  His parents, his friends.  Other women.

But as you pulled them apart one by one, you only found files of old bank statements and tax forms.  Until you got to the bottom.  A lone manila envelope, padded and thick.

With your name written in the wonky, hurried strokes of his hand.

Your own hands shook as you turned it over to find it sealed.  He must’ve wanted you to see what was inside, or else it wouldn’t have your name on it.

Right?

It felt like paper, documents of some kind, but with something else to give it bulk.  You shouldn’t have seen it, shouldn’t have gone digging through his stuff.  But he’d known you were going to snoop.  Had practically dared you to, didn’t he?

You tucked it back in where you’d found it.  Whatever it was, he could give it to you when he came back.  You’d promised him that you’d wait, and you would.

However long it took.

Just as you shut the drawer, your phone began to buzz in your pocket, jolting you guiltily as if you’d been caught.  You took it out, expecting it to be just another spam call, but paused in immediate horror at the name across the screen. 

(John’s) Kate

He’d saved the contact in your phone in case you needed to get in touch with him.  You couldn’t think of a situation where you’d be justified in pulling his attention away from a job, but you could only think of one reason she’d be calling you.

“Hello,” you answered.

*******

Two hours later, your apartment was full.  Well, there were only four guests gathered around your coffee table and perched with varying degrees of curiosity and tension along your couch and side chairs, but it felt overcrowded considering their size.

Three men that you’d never seen before, and then there was Kate.  Somehow, she took up just as much space as they did.  She carried herself with an air of authority that made your spine straighten reflexively. 

“He didn’t tell us he had a family.”  The clean cut one in the ball cap, who’d introduced himself as Kyle, spoke first as you poured him a cup of tea.  “We all wanted to express our support in person.”

“There wasn’t much to tell until recently,” you smiled, slightly, trying to be a good hostess despite the circumstances.

“You’ve been his emergency contact for the last five years,” Kate added as she declined your offer of milk and sugar.

“I didn’t know that.”  That was as long as you’d known each other.  Did he really not have anyone else? 

“He’s a very private man.”  She did you the favor of talking about him as if he wasn’t gone.  As if there was still hope.

“How did you know about it?”  MacTavish, the stocky Scot with the close-cut mohawk intoned back to her, with a bristling hostility you couldn’t miss.

“I’m CIA.  It’s my job to know everyone’s secrets.” 

You thought maybe she was trying to make a joke, but her face was dead serious. 

“We never would have let him—” He looked regretfully from you to your baby as the blond one with the black surgical mask cut him off with a supportive hand to his knee.

“Have any of you ever successfully talked him out of something once he’d put his mind to it?”  You looked around at the faces of the men staring back at you.  The people he spent all his time with when he wasn’t with you.  “I’m sure that’s why he didn’t tell you.  Afraid you’d treat him differently if he was a real person.”

Perhaps for the same reason he’d never told you how he felt.  Afraid to make it something real.  Something it would hurt to lose.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, please,” you continued, bracing for the worst.

“A massive fuck up from the beginning, is what it was—”  Kyle interjected, heatedly, before he was interrupted by a pointed look from Kate.

“It’s mostly classified, of course.  So, we can’t go into details.  But John requested an indefinite leave of absence about four months ago.  In the interim, his team was assigned to assist another task force in a sensitive operation.”  She spoke evenly as if reciting a sequence of events before a committee.

And you listened, all the while searching for the bits she left unsaid.  The parts that she hid behind her narrative. 

Phrases like, ‘severe loss of life’, ‘pinned down in hostile territory’, and ‘unable to ascertain status’, were cold, calculated ways of saying something went horribly wrong.

You weren’t a naïve civilian who devoured sound bites at face value.  You worked with government contracts all the time.  American, British.  They were all the same.  ‘Cover your ass,’ was their collective motto.

When she finished, you had more questions than answers.  But one thing stood out in your mind.  He hadn’t been home for so long by accident.  He’d chosen to stay.  He’d given up his team, indefinitely, to be with you. 

“So, if I understand correctly, it was a massive fuck up.  You him called away, despite his clear wishes to be left alone, to save your ass and theirs.”  You turned your attention from Kate over to the team.  “And he got you out.  And you left him behind?” 

He’d quit for you.  But he’d gone back for them. 

“Not willingly.”  The one in the mask, Lieutenant Riley, spoke up for the first time.  His eerily dark eyes shot daggers at Kate, as if the fault was hers.

“He knew what he was doing.  We needed to reassess the objective and regroup.  And I’m available to discuss it at length with you another time, Lieutenant.”

“We know he’s alive.”  MacTavish reassured you.  “If he was dead, they’d be broadcasting his body and celebrating all over the dark web.” 

Oh, what a relief.  The visual turned up bile your throat.

“And if he’s been taken prisoner or something?”

“He’s an exceptionally valuable hostage.  We’ll have a few weeks at least, while they interrogate him, before he’s ransomed.”

Tortured, she meant.  The bile turned to acid, and you forced yourself not to be sick. 

“So, what now?”  You were in a daze.  Kate’s firm, rational, voice grounded you and kept you present when all you wanted to do was breakdown.  To scream and cry and pound your fists against their chests to get back out there and find him.

Her position demanded it, you imagined.  Judging by the tension flowing between the team, they ached to do just that.  It was as if they were held back by some invisible muzzle.  Reined in by years of service.  One strong woman was all that kept them from charging off to take matters into their own hands.

“We’ll keep you updated as soon as we have news,” Kate answered, softer than before.  Perhaps aware that her words alone held little comfort.  That they were as grim as hollow condolences.  “But here, standard protocol.  We had it stripped of anything sensitive.  There’s only a few pictures and text messages left.  It’s unlocked.” 

She handed you his battered old phone.  The screen was scratched up, and the case was cracked enough to be useless protection.  You didn’t think they even supported this model anymore.  You couldn’t help but smile when you saw it. 

‘It’s busted to bloody hell, but still hanging on’, he’d said about it once with a proud laugh.  You prayed that he was the same, wherever he was.

“Thank you.  It was nice to meet you all,” you replied, politely, suddenly anxious to be alone.  To fall apart in peace.  “I wish it was under better circumstances.  Maybe next time we can have a drink and a proper laugh.  When he’s home.” 

“We’ll get him back, Mrs. Price.”  It was Kyle who pulled you into a hug, as if you were family.  “I promise.”

It was the first time anyone had called you that, and you didn’t correct him.  In the moment, it was a comfort.  A universal truth that you longed to hear from someone else’s lips. 

The others followed suit with their goodbyes, but their warmth and concern were a shallow replacement for the man you were missing.  Kate settled for a stoic handshake before you closed the door on them all and set your back against it for support.

The phone in your hand was heavy as you pulled it up to see his text messages, looking for any possible clue or something to keep hope alive.  There were a few off color jokes between him and his mates.   Notes to you about what was for dinner, and silly photos he’d taken of the baby.

One single text exchange with Kate.  As if he’d deleted them as soon as they came in.  Or perhaps Kate had wiped them as part of her pruning.  It was from four months prior. 

I hope you know what you’re doing.

Never more certain in my life.

Were they talking about you?  Of his choice to leave?  It reminded you of something else he’d left behind.  Something you’d forgotten in the whirlwind of the last few hours.

When you held the envelope again in your hands, you didn’t think twice about ripping through the seal.  Inside was a stack of handwritten letters, all dated and signed with his name.

You focused on the one on top, from the day before he’d left.

Hey love,

If you’re reading this, then something must’ve happened to me.  Or your curious nature got the best of you, and you went snooping around my desk.

I hope it’s the latter because it’s time you knew, and who knows when I’ll get the courage to tell you myself.  But if it’s the former, then I’m sorry.

I can’t say I’m surprised, though.  There’s only so many times I can dare death to find me before it wins.  You just have to know that I did my best, for whatever it’s worth.

I never felt like I could have a family.  I didn’t deserve that sort of peace after the things I’ve done.  I’ve taken too many lives to have any chance at a happy one.  Killed too many sons to be entitled to any of my own.

It’s been my purpose.  What I’m good at.  And I never wanted to bring that burden home to anyone else.

Then I saw you again after I made myself a promise to stay away from you this time.  You were so fearless and calm.  I just wanted to be near you.  Close enough that you might scare away the darkness in me.  

If someone like you, and her, could trust me and see any good in me, then maybe I’m not such a monster after all. 

You made me believe in fate.  In something bigger that was beyond my control.  I just hope that it’s not done with me yet.  That it’s not done with us. 

If this is the end, then I just want to say thank you and leave you with everything.  Everything that I have, and everything that I left unsaid.

These letters are from all the other times I’ve done this.  The other missions that called me away since we met, in the event that I didn’t come back.  You were the only thing worth coming home to, and I’m sorry I didn’t share them sooner. 

If you’re just being nosy, and I’m already warm in our bed with the baby drooling on my chest, I hope I’ve already told you a thousand times how much I love you.  How lucky I am to have known your love in return.

And I hope you’re already wearing one of these rings.  I couldn’t decide which one, so I’ll let you choose.  They’ve been in my family for ages.  All yours now.

All my heart, John.

The pages were flooded with salty tears by the time the jingle at the bottom of the envelope caught your attention.  Five different rings.  Yellow and white gold, glistening diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires.  Old and new.

But not yet.  You didn’t dare to touch them yet.  Didn’t choose.  You believed in fate, too.  He wasn’t gone, and it wasn’t the end. 

*******

The next days passed by in a blur, waiting by the phone.  You were thankful for the baby, as she didn’t let you wallow or crumble the way you wanted to.  There were still diapers to change, and bottles to fill.  Smiles to fake and colic to soothe.

You wondered if she missed him, too.  If she even noticed he was gone.

It was three in the morning when you got the call, and you shot up in bed, sleep quickly forgotten when you answered.  You didn’t even bother to look at the caller ID.

“John!”

“Hiya, darling.”  His voice was a faint groan of relief. 

“Where are you?”  You held the phone away from your face just long enough to see the long, foreign number with a country code you couldn’t place.  “Does Kate know where you are?”

“I don’t have a lot of time.  I’m in the blind.  I just wanted to hear your voice.”

You flung off your covers and rushed to your computer.  He was in trouble.    

“I’m here.  Are you hurt?” 

“Not bad.”  You could hear him smiling, the way the words huffed out through pained lips.  It was definitely bad.

You had to keep him talking, to stay on the line long enough for you to work.  The laptop took forever to start up.  You hadn’t used it since you’d left your employment, and it must’ve needed a hundred updates.  But you didn’t have time as your fingers trembled anxiously over the keys.

This was what you did.  This was your job.  You designed software that could find people.  Find targets.  Needles in the giant haystack that was the world.

You set the phone to speaker mode and plugged it in to your program.

“Whose phone is this, John?”  It would be encrypted, you presumed.  You wouldn’t be lucky enough to have its location turned on. 

“An old friend.  I’d put him on, but he’s not with us anymore, I’m afraid.  Poor fellow took a fall.”  Another gurgled laugh.  “But his name was Makarov.  When you talk to Kate, tell her the mission’s complete.”

“You can tell her yourself.  You’re going to be fine.  Just keep talking to me.”

You buzzed through lines of code, searching for the one you needed. 

“How’s the poppet?  Is she being a good girl?”

“She’s sleeping.  She’s okay.  Misses you.  Can’t wait to see you.”

Got it!  You broke through the encryption and pinned his location using satellite GPS.

“It’s not looking good, love.”

“Do you believe in fate, John?”  You asked, as you used your laptop’s connection to call Kate.

There was a reason you’d met each other.  You were certain now that nothing had been by chance.  You were meant to find him.  You were meant to find each other.

“Ah, went pawing through my drawers, did you?  Which ring did you pick?” 

“I’ll show you when you get home,” you promised as the line finally connected.  “Kate!  I know where John is.  You have to hurry.”

You sent her the coordinates to the exact centimeter.  He was deep underground, in some kind of a bunker.  Or an old mineshaft.  To her credit, Kate didn’t argue or ask where you got your intel.

Two hours later, you were still on the phone with him.  The light began to creep slowly through the curtains, bringing with it a brand new day.  But his breath had slowed, and his words came thicker from his throat.

“Just a little longer, okay?”  You didn’t let him sense your fear as you quietly willed your life into him, to keep him hanging on. 

Where the fuck were they?

The line had gone too quiet when you heard the blast. 

“John!  John, what was that?”  You prayed it was the team, and not a fresh wave of enemy combatants come to finish the job.

“In here!”  John’s voice, with a renewed strength. 

“Bravo-7 to Watcher.  Eyes on Bravo-6.  We’ve got him.”  You heard Lieutenant Riley’s unmistakable accent breakthrough as he got closer to the phone.  “Have med-evac waiting topside.  He’s in rough shape.”  He switched from his comms to John.  “Can you walk, Cap?”

“Well, you aren’t fucking carrying me, Ghost.  That’s for bloody sure.”

“Please don’t leave me.”  The tears that you finally let fall were of release.  Of relief.  You didn’t know if he still held the phone, or if it lay forgotten on the ground as they carried him away.

“Careful what you wish for, darling.”

[addicted-to-dc]

Jekyll/Hyde - Taskforce 141 x Reader

Okay, didn't like the first fic I wrote so here's this one instead lmao. Still figuring out team dynamics... but I can't wait to explore moreeee.

Tags for those who encouraged me to write this. Thank you!!! @greeniegreengreen @aeilani @poetslastdeath (Thanks for the writing prompt!! Imma go crazier with it soon)

Content Warnings: Typical CoD violence, ptsd, reader is going to be unhinged (even more so in the next chapters).

“She’s not a good fit.” You were waiting for the line; another iteration of the same denial you’ve encountered everywhere you go. “It’s all solo work, can she even work with a team?”

Your throat burns at the statement. Despite the stabbing pain with each demeaning sentence, you can’t help but continue eavesdropping. Your file has lies written on nearly every page, all the ‘solo missions’ redacted and sealed so tightly even you couldn’t read them.

“John.”

Laswell is too kind to you, too stubborn, somehow seeing right through your heavily defended psyche. Playing matchmaker with the 141 is a mistake. These men don’t need you. You’re disposable, belonging nowhere yet everywhere. They already have a psychotic on the team, the position has been filled since the damned taskforce was created.

“Ignore the files, look at her.” The fucking PowerPoint. It’s like you’re a mutt she’s trying to adopt off. As if a photo of you would convince them to accept. You’re a liability. It won’t be long until you’re sent off on another suicide mission, doomed to survive and repeat the process over again. Laswell sighs. “She’s never been assigned a solo mission.”

“Lone survivor?” Says a new voice. The Scottish accent tells you it’s one of the sergeants, Mr. Mohawk. “Sounds familiar, eh, Ghost?”

There’s no response, a barely discernable grunt takes the place of an answer. Then this ‘Ghost’ speaks: “Jekyll and Hyde?”

“She’s a completely different person on the field. Jekyll specializes in intelligence, sabotage, and infiltration. A screw loose, yes, but Hyde…” You don’t belong here. They know it. You know it. It seems like Laswell is the only one out of the loop, but you will never doubt her stubbornness. Your stomach drops. “Hyde is unstoppable. She flips that switch… you have a wildcard that will turn the tide.”

Maybe you should just leave. Maybe you should take up Graves’ offer. He’d gladly take you, but you’re not sure what’s holding you back from finally pulling the trigger… you should really work on your wording.

“She’s survived alone for so long; she needs a team that can survive WITH her.”

You eye the window, admiring the view of the forested area that claims most of the land. This building is commercial, an office building repurposed for government use… and it seems they forgot to lock the window. It slides open with ease, and the 2-story drop is nothing. You’ve fallen from deadlier heights.

“JEKYLL!” You don’t bother turning around, Laswell’s voice ushering you to make a break for it into the forest.

Turning around, you salute them, sarcastically of course, and bolt into the forest as the group rips their own window open. Serves them right for talking shit when you can clearly hear everything. Your eyes flick around, spotting a sturdy enough tree to climb up. The forest is old, old enough to be your perfect personal playground. It’s been a while since you’ve been in one. It screams “HOME!” in your brain, but you shove that thought down. That home is across the world, your claim etched into the tops of the trees.

It’s not difficult to climb into a spot, it’s nearly as easy as breathing. The ambience of the forest is enough to take away the pain in your chest, the wind grounding you with its bite. Sighing, you slump against the bark and look upwards. The clouds look extra poofy today. A great contrast against the bright blue sky.

You close your eyes. It’s as if you’re there, survival being the only goal in your mind. Nothing weighing you down…

“Jekyll!”

You look down, disappointed that they found you already. War never changes and peace never lasts, including your own. Captain John Price glowers at you from below. You’re starting to feel a bit better, especially since this perspective is too damn hilarious. What a little, angry dude.

Ignoring the man, you slowly move from branch to branch. Running won’t solve anything, they chased you for a reason. Laswell did this on purpose. The revelation makes you freeze. Scowling, you whip around to face the men. “Look, I don’t appreciate Laswell meddling with my shit either, but mention anything about my teams again and I’ll cut your fucking tongues out.”

“Fair.”

Your eyes flick to Ghost, the darkest thing in the forest. It’s almost as if darkness clings to him. You could easily disappear, this forest is vast, yes, but it would be a walk in the park to a nearby town compared to your previous unsavory experiences. You know this, but it seems Ghost knows too. He’s tense, watching you closely for any tells. It’s funny, you’re doing the same thing. Great minds think alike.

“How’d you like the PowerPoint?” you lean against a branch, scratching a scar on your chin. “Was it the maroon or grey themed one?”

Silence, but then an answer from one of the sergeants, Mr. Mohawk. “Grey.”

You frown, allowing yourself to swing to a lower branch. “Funny, she said she changed it. Liar.”

“Laswell a liar?”

“All of you are liars,” you immediately throw back, sizing up all the men. “To others… to yourselves.”

“And you’re not a liar?” The other sergeant asks. Curious man, a seeker of truth. His determination is difficult to ignore, a sense of justice that could rival yours. Good. There’s not many left in this world. He shall henceforth be Sunshine.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Lies kill in our line of business, even the small ones, Sergeant. Not my weapon of choice. Now, are you rejecting me or not?”

“No.”

Now that’s interesting. You descend a few more branches. “Why?”

“The PowerPoint.”

You scoff, landing softly onto the forest floor. It takes only a few steps to close the distance. Hesitance invades your mind. This group will be different. You’ll just have to place your trust in Laswell and her mysterious ways. “Next mission?”

“Not much to go on, we’re waiting on Laswell for intel.”

Nodding, you glance at the team. “You going to bother introducing yourselves? Don’t bother, big boy, I already know who you are.”

Ghost looks like a challenge, very throwable. Maybe you’ll get a chance in the field. The Sergeants exchange glances. Aren’t they cute.

“Too late, you’re Mr. Mohawk and Sunshine now,” you state, adjusting your vest and walking away. “Give me 24 hours, Price.”

And with that, you leave the men alone to focus on your favorite task… digging for intel.

“Jekyll.”

You halt in your steps, turning around. “Yes, Captain?”

He steps forward. “You’re 141, we work as a team. You haven’t lost us yet.”

The pain returns, the ringing in your ears reaching a crescendo despite the forest’s calming aura. Blood, so much blood, gasps for breath and- Your jaw tightens, any more pressure and you’re sure you’ll shatter them. “Conference room 2.”

-------------------

Thanks for reading! I really want to you (the reader lol) to pitch in and decide where to go! I think a little choose your own adventure would be cool. I'll start it up within the next chapter or two. I'm so exciteddd to write again. I hope my writing muscles aren't too decayed XD

If anyone has suggestions, do not hesitate to comment! I need more unhinged mutuals on here pls

[two-dolla-bills]

Since the first introduction of Frankenstein being a real person in this universe, Jekyll has expressed that she was a great inspiration for his field of study, and I mean, how couldn't she be. She made a whole person from mismatched corpses using nothing but the science at her disposal and being driven by pation, who wouldn't want to be like her? Because of this, once Jekyll finally meets Frankenstein in the flesh, he is very obviously saddened by being called nothing short of a narc as well as being accused of being an "imposter," but at this point we all know that. What I love about this is that despite being insulted to his face and told that he was a last resort, Jekyll AND HYDE both desperately wanted her approval, or at least that she would give them the time of day.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

BUT, because he's seen as a clean and polished version of what true mad science really is, Frankenstein does not give two shits about these two. From her perspective, she has little to no reason to assume anything might be even the slightest bit off about Jekyll... except for the whole green eyes incident. It was only a crack, but other than that Henry just seems like a normal English gentleman but ohhhhh OHHHHHH

Now, with the whole truth being laid out for Frankenstein to see, Jekyll and Hyde have have her undivided attention, but in the absolute worst way possible. Instead of approving of their work like a teacher would a student or even as equals in the same field, she's seeing them as a specimen to poke and prod and find out what makes it tick. Hell, before Jekyll transformed, Frankenstein was kicking him out of her room and even opened the door for him, only to shut it the moment she saw what happened, and even went so far as to call it fascinating.

No, yeah, this is technically what they wanted (having Frankenstein's approval) but it's given to them at such a low point in their lives that it ends up being an entire monkey's paw of a wish come true

[at1ias]

Hi CJ fandom :D yeah so I put all the songs in a list against each other to crate a (kind of) bracket but there was no bracket that supported 104 slots, and I'm not drawing that, so: Here's the matchups for the first round!

1.Does it Sound Familiar vs. Backlit by Moonlight 2.End the Dance vs. Contempt 3.Pit vs. Every ounce of Energy 4.Three Paces Away vs. A Devil's Tricks 5.Wings of Wax vs. The Moss 6.KK. Cruisin' (the one from covered in discontent) vs. Hokem All Ye Faithful 7.Slutteral Gump vs. The Man With The Skeleton Arms 8.Restless Heart vs. Pocket 9. Alone With my Thoughts vs. Scatman's World 10.She Only Loves me When I'm there vs. Spooky Scary Skeletons 11.Hallelujah vs. Charlotte 12.Time Machine Reprise vs. Dream (Outro From Calamity) 13.Mucka Blucka (Intro to Cacophony) vs. Ruler of Everything 14. Spring and a Storm vs. Storm and a Spring 15. Night vs. Light 16.Never Meant to Know vs. Just Apathy 17.Good Day vs. Be Born 18.The Heart Acoustic vs. The Mind Electric 19.The Soul Eclectic vs. The Bidding 20.We're Gonna Win vs. Variations on a Cloud 21.Two Wuv vs. The Whole World and You (Outro From Cacophony)

22.Welcome to Tally Hall (Intro to Concord) vs. Banana Man 23.Haiku vs. Hidden in the Sand 24.Greener vs. Special 25.Intro vs. Interlude 26.The Ballad of Dr. Jekyll vs. The Mr. Hyde Jive 27.Wilhelmina Waltz vs. A Styrian Rhapsody  28.The Monster Lament vs. An Elegy for One Roderick Usher, or ‘The Haunted Palace’ 29.Dead Man's Sea Shanty vs. Ode of the Cog 30.Monster Mash vs. Dear Machine. Hate, the Cog (Ode of the Cog, Non-Fiction Mix) 31. Ain't No Rest For the Wicked vs. Taken For a Ride 32.Cage vs. Art 33.Nerd vs. Grew on Me 34.Not Perfect vs. Shutup You're Stupid 35.Evil ppl vs.Savages 36.A Drink to Death vs. Chonny's Inferno 37.Fine, I'm Fine vs. 20XX

38.Laplace's Angel (Hurt People? Hurt People!) vs Thermodynamic Lawyer Esq, G.F.D. 39.Tomcat Disposables vs. Memento Mori: The Most important thing in the world. 40. …And if I did, you deserved it. vs. Mayday 41.Push vs. Don't Take it Personally 42.Compelled by Hindsight vs. The Lie of Black and White 43.KK. Crushin' vs. KK. Cruisin' (unplugged) 44.You Sound Like Louis Burdett vs. To Toe Dead Lines 45.Count Eleven vs. The Forest for the Trees 46.The Ship of Theseus vs. The Ship of Theseus 47.The Ship of Theseus vs. The Ship of Theseus 48.The Ship of Theseus vs. The Ship of Theseus 49.Clock Town in Dawn vs. Heal 50.Death Will Fall vs. The King, the Fool, and the Poison 51.Hollow Steps vs. Heart of Flame 52.Dad 3 vs. Fly me to the Moon

I'll start tomorrow and ima do 2 polls a day, open for 1 week :)

[angelsworks]

No where to Hyde 5 Dark!Tyler Galpin x reader

Previous Part -> Here

Masterlist -> Here

Summary: Tired of you ignoring him, Tyler decided to pay you a visit at your dorm.

Warnings: 18+, sexual themes, thigh riding, kissing, slight Dub-Con

Fifteen minutes ago he’d decided it wasn’t working. No amount of kissing, or touching or pounding the pussy beneath him was working. It did nothing for him. It was a wonder Tyler had even gotten hard in the first place.

Yet here he was, desperately chasing his release from the girl below him. She’d been a last resort. Some girl that used to be in his class at highschool.

Her every moan was over the top and hurt his ears. Every time she came it only pissed him off further. Every squeeze of his cock had the opposite effect. While she was having the time of her life experiencing orgasm after orgasm, Tyler was close to putting his head through a wall.

Finally he called it quits. Pulling out rather swiftly and tearing off his condom, disposing of it in the nearby bin.

The girl, who’s name Tyler couldn’t remember, lay panting on the bed. Her eyes dazed and head in the clouds, feeling completely euphoric.

“Oh Tyler, that was, well…incredible. Most guys stop when they’ve cum. You - you, you’ve got the stamina of a racehorse.” She laughed in disbelief.

He hid his sneer. Pissed of that she thought he came, but also at the irony that his best performance had made him feel the worst.

Hurriedly, he got dressed. Leaving quickly after. The girl was shocked, but he didn’t care.

He was certain now. You’d ruined him. The bond between the two of you existed for one and made it impossible for him to get a release anywhere else.

After your night together he’d felt better than he’d every felt before. It was such a high it was indescribable. He fell asleep with you in his arms.

When he woke up you were gone. No note, no text, nothing. He was angry. That was his first thought. You were his now. You couldn’t just go running off. Not when he felt so desperate to fuck you again.

Now a week after your night together, he’d still heard nothing. It wasn’t through a lack of trying. He’d text you, phones you a few times, even tried to face time.

To say it upset him would be an understatement. It enraged him. He wanted you, needed you. For sex that was true, but also just to hold you. To be near you and smell your scent. It calmed his Hyde.

In fact his Hyde had been more under control than ever. It was even tolerable. He could change at will now and had no raging bloodlust or desire to kill. It was a fact he was keeping to himself for the time being. Knowing that if Thornhill was aware of his change in savagery, she’d deft have something to say about it.

So he waited. Bided his time until he could see you again. But he was growing incredibly impatient.

Your phone pinged.

You ignored it.

Instead you lay in bed. Trying to sleep. Trying to find some comfort in your baby blue sheets.

You’d cried countless times after your night with Tyler. Part of you couldn’t make sense of the influx of emotion. The other part could.

You felt as if you’d given yourself a taste of freedom, a taste of what could be. Only to rip it away when your mind finally reached a rational state.

Tyler was great. But you couldn’t stay with him. You wouldn’t be able to have a life with him. Instead you’d be subjected to what you could only imagine to be brutal sex every night with the monstrous Hyde.

Your phone pinged again. And again. Then this time it vibrated.

With a groan you picked it up. Half expecting the caller ID to be Tyler. Which had been a common occurrence over the last week. Instead you saw that it was Enid. You pressed accept and put the phone to your ear.

“Hey (Y/N), thought we might have to send a teacher in to check on you. I mean - we just haven’t really heard from you in a while and it’s kinda worrying -“ Enid started to ramble. Someone in the background said something that cut her off, putting her back on track.

“Oh yeah, me, Wednesday, Ajax and Xavier are going to talk about The Hyde at the weathervane -“

Another shuffle could be heard on the end of the line.

“Oh and hand most likely. I thought it’d be good for you to come along, maybe bring your book.”

It was true that you hadn’t heard from the group in a while. After you revealed your own connection to The Hyde you’d almost been blacklisted. Wednesday had definitely been distancing herself, which wasn’t necessarily out of the norm, but still hurt your feelings.

Seeing your friends did sound like fun. However the idea of bumping into Tyler. That did not.

“Thanks Enid. But I’ll have to pass. I’ve been sick since the middle of the week. I think I’m just gonna rest.”

“Oh okay, no problem. See you soo-“ you didn’t let her finish as you ended the call. Needing to submerge yourself back into silence.

You couldn’t decide how to deal with the situation. It felt like the days dragged on but also felt extremely finite. How much longer before you had another call from your parents? How much longer before you bumped into Tyler? Before you have to face The Hyde?

The thoughts had consumed you for the majority of the week. Poisoning every though like a parasite.

You decided a long bath in the adjoining en-suite would lift your spirits. As you went you took the fancy salts you’d been gifted for Christmas and a bath bomb you were sure would be exciting.

Tyler’s eyebrows lifted and his lips spread into a smile as his eyes searched the group of teens entering the weathervane. It had been slow all day. His thoughts more often than not drifting to you. He hadn’t text you today. Finally getting the picture that you were trying to ignore him. Which had really pissed him off.

Now he stood making drinks and serving cakes in the hardly populated coffee shop. Hoping the hours would tick by faster so that he could go home and relief the throbbing in his pants.

“Hey Tyler!” Enid greeted, bouncing up to the counter. Ajax in tow behind her, while Wednesday and Xavier stayed back. Quietly conversing with each other about the case.

“Hey Enid,” The barista tried to be as enthusiastic as the brightly coloured girl, but his heart was elsewhere. “The usual?”

She nodded, then added on the rest of the groups coffee orders. The group moved to a slightly larger booth than usual, chatting about the upcoming school events while waiting for their drinks.

When drinks arrived their conversation quickly shifted to The Hyde. Updating Tyler on some of their new findings.

Without seeming too interested he decided to bring up your absence.

“Oh, (Y/N)? I asked her to come but she said she was sick. Has been for most of the week apparently. Maybe I should bring some soup back to Nevermore.” She said more to herself than the table.

Tyler could feel his heart falls. He had a hunch you weren’t sick. Instead just avoiding him. He had no idea what he’d done. The night you shared had been one of the best of his life. Surely he couldn’t have been the only one enjoying it?

He didn’t let his face betray him as he continued the conversation before going back to work. He wasn’t going to put up with your behaviour anymore. You couldn’t avoid him forever. Not if he came to you.

With a black towel wrapped tightly around your figure you emerged from the en-suite. Steam streamed out from the bathroom. Dissipating into the warmer air around you.

You walked towards your bed, ready to dress in your pre-laid pyjamas, until someone cleared their throat behind you.

Startled, you felt as if you’d jumped from your skin, but you recovered quickly to look for the intruder. What you saw was Tyler, dressed in jeans and a plain T-shirt, sitting idly on the chair in the corner of your room. Almost hidden out of sight, he sat quietly in the shadows of your room.

You spluttered, lost for words, “Tyler? What are you doing in my room? You shouldn’t be up here.”

His eyes gave nothing away. No worry, no anger, no sad puppy dog eyes that you’d seen occasionally. No guilt for sneaking into your room, waiting for you to come out from your bath.

“Come here.” His words were soft. Softer than you’d expect for someone who’d been ignored for the last week.

You could feel your stomach flip as you looked into his eyes. Desperately trying to see if this was some sort of joke.

“I won’t ask again.” He simply patted his left thigh. Both thighs were spread wide, filling the entire seat of the chair.

Gingerly, you walked over to him. Holding your towel tightly in an attempt to calm your anxiety. Reaching a stop between his Jean clad thighs.

His hand reached for your own. Pulling you forward so you were forced to perch on his knee. Sitting sideways to the chair and to him.

One of his arms wraps around your waist. The other lays over your lap. He uses his fingers to draw lazy circles on the top of your thigh, just below the towel.

“Enid says you’re unwell,” his eyes search for yours, despite you trying to avoid them. “I came to see if you were okay.”

You swallow, “I’ll be okay. Thanks anyway Tyler, you should go.” You try to get up, pushing him away. But he doesn’t let you. Instead pushing his hand down firm on your thigh and using his other to wrap tighter around your waist.

His eyes flash, a hidden storm beneath them, “Let me take care of you (Y/N), it’s the least I can do.”

His words sound kind on paper yet the way they fall from his lips are full of malice. He reaches a surprisingly gentle hand up to your forehead. Fingers pressing to your skin, trying to feel for a higher than normal temperature.

“Hmm, you don’t feel warm here.” His lips come to your ear, speaking softly to you.

You can’t control how your thighs clench and a need grows in your belly. A fire almost, begging to be sedated, to be put out. It made you feel hot. More specifically it made your core hot, made it burn.

He hummed once more, leaning away from your ear and back in the chair. His hand slid from your forehead to the side of your face, fingertips tracing down your neck, to the cotton of your towel, then finally to your thighs.

“Tyler, no.” You mutter weakly. The protest is an effort to preserve the little will power you have left. While you do desperately want to be touched by Tyler, fucked by Tyler, you know it’s not a one time deal. Every time you do this with him, the more you put on the line. The more you’ll have to deny when you finally fall in the clutches of The Hyde.

He shushes you, prying your thighs apart with little resistance. Trailing his hand down to cup your pussy.

“It feels warm here. I think your little pussy is trying to tell me something hmm?” He questions. Causing your cheeks to heat and your gaze to fall elsewhere.

“You feeling funny baby? Feeling all hot?” The pad of his thumb trails to your clit. He starts to rub it softly, in slow circles. He enjoys how it makes you moan quietly, how you start to whine in need.

His thumb on your clit does little to calm the burning in your belly or the heat at your core. Instead it ignites it, making you feel needy, desperate.

Then it stops.

Your eyes flick to Tyler’s, a frown apparent on your face.

He scoffs, a smirk falling on his face, “Oh no baby. You don’t get to ignore my calls all week, avoid me and still get me to play with your pretty pussy.”

You whine out a complaint. Rubbing your thighs together from the loss of contact.

“Please Tyler,” the words fall from your lips before you can stop them. “I need you.”

It takes an extreme amount of self control on his part to not fuck you right there and then. But he resists. He needs to set ground rules with you, show you that you aren’t in charge. You can’t ignore him all week and still have him chase you. You need to work for it.

“You don’t deserve it baby.” His lips come to your forehead, pressing a gentle kiss there.

“But you can work for it.”

You look at him, puzzled. Only last week you’d had your first sexual experience. Your lack of knowledge lead to you coming up blank.

Tyler sees your expression, “I want you to straddle my thigh.”

You obey almost immediately. Arranging yourself so you’re sat with a thigh either side of his left one.

“Now sit down.” You lower your weight so your core is pressed directly to his denim.

Your eyes watch his, waiting for his next instruction.

“Now ride my thigh.” Your mind goes blank, cheeks now feeling increasingly hot and your legs feel weak.

“I don’t - I mean…” you start to stutter. Unsure about what he means.

His hands find your hips. Gripping the cotton clad skin. He used his grip on you to guide your hips. Pulling you forward, then down, then grinding back on his thigh, then back up.

The friction going directly to your clit. Feeling good and aiding the want in your belly. Soon his guiding lets up and he leaves you to ride on your own. After a few strokes you build up speed. The friction feels good and brings you closer to your orgasm. Quiet moans spill from your lips. Tyler on the other hand is quiet. Content in watching you get yourself off on his thigh.

His cock was hard well before he got you to grind on his thigh. Now however, it feels like the buttons on his trousers will pop. He wants to help you reach your orgasm sooner, but he knows you need to do this on your own. This is your punishment for ignoring him.

Soon enough you’re shaking as you cum on his thigh. Thighs quivering and pussy contracting. A final moan bubbles from your lips as you sigh.

“Good, now let me fuck you properly.”

[reddtea]

I've revisited some of my old batman art seeing if I can improve both on style and design. I had this idea that Ivy should start off as a politician like Dent and I really liked the idea of her and Harvey being together, with eachother being a big part of the other's spiral into villainy. /// So here's the thought...Pam and Harvey are politicians who both want to see Gotham prosper though have different ideas of what that looks like, Pam thinks that by building more parks and public gardens they could start to pave a better future by making the city nicer for children as well as wanting to put out policies to control pollution. Harvey's approach to improving the city is by funding better education and social services to better empower the poor and put laws in place to protect workers. Both looking to tax the rich to fund these projects which get's the court of owl's attention. Both of them pay dearly for their views as Harvey gets kidnapped and tortured (half of his face is cut off) and he's given an options of either running away with Pam or doing exactly what they say if he doesn't want Pam hurt. Harvey tries to convince Pam to leave Gotham to drop it all and get away when they can. Pamela refuses after everything they've worked for and with Bruce backing them they're going to make Gotham a better place. Harvey tells her what really happened to him and why half his face is gone and why he thinks Gotham is a lost cause, hoping that it might be able to change her mind. Though the owls are watching and they take out Pamela for being too stubborn to leave and for knowing about them. When they take Pamela they murder her and dispose of her body in a swamp. Harvey knows Pam is missing though he's not sure if she dead or held hostage by the owls, all he knows is that it was likely his fault that she's gone. His paranoia of owls gets worse in her absence, without any way of communicating with them he has no way of knowing if he's doing right by them or if Pam can be saved if she's being kept as a bargaining chip. Harvey hates being made a pawn of the owls he wants to quit the political race but Bruce tells him he needs to keep at it, though he's not sure if he could trust Bruce or anyone for the possibility they might be an owl. So he choses to lock up a government building with a bunch of people trapped inside and set it on fire to eliminate any owls that might be there and to maybe see Pam again if she's already dead. When Pam is killed she is resurrected by swamp thing from there she's left confused, months (maybe little more than a year? idk) have passed since she was killed. She returns lost and confused and she goes to Bruce to figure out what happened since she was gone and Bruce turns her away at the door, so she's left to piece it all together herself.

She's heartbroken at the news that Harvey died in a fire and she makes it her goal to wipe out the people who hurt Harvey and killed her. She resents Bruce for being a bad friend and not looking out for Harvey when he needed him, believing that if he'd turn his back on her he must've done the same to Harvey while she was gone. /// I'm a big fan of the idea of villains starting off as normal to good people and then bad circumstances changing them. I don't like redeemable at all but resentful? vengeful? good stuff. I always felt like Harvey is kind of aimless after the transformation like the multipersonality bpd mr hyde takes over and that's it and Ivy just never had a legit evil motive other than "nature's great and men are trash" and her being paired with Quinn doesn't really do much for her character than making her "Harley's cute supportive not abusive lesbian girlfriend" Which no hate on gays but Ivy is really just an accessory to Harley's "men are trash I date girls now".

[is-this-plural]

on the plural chonny songs topic, hes got two original songs with some variation of the line "one will turn to two will turn to five"

"End the Dance." and "Devil's Tricks."

the second one is more especially plural all the way through but i think the first one precontextualizes the line

also Pit. is so so plural to me. you just gotta trust me but it matches the themes of both songs... and Devil's Song. has similar graphics to one major section of pit during the "one will turn to two will turn to five" line

obligatory mention of The Ballad of Dr Jekyll and The Mr Hide Jive for obvious reasons

laplaces angel is DEFINITELY PLURAL "one hundred trillion years all piled up in one brain" and just that whole verse

Not Perfect is so plural to us. on its own lyrically not necessarily but wearing different outfits n singing with voices for each section.

the forest for the trees for similar reasons tbh

tomcat disposables isnt necessarily plural but it feels like its about growing up after a particularly food insecure childhood, in a pretty plural way

honestly theres so many with one solo line that are so so plural in otherwise irrelevant songs

Thermodynamic Lawyer, Push, Mayday,

THE MOSS. i mean "well legend says that one and one is two and that one and two is three" which sort of ends up getting thematically reprised over into mucka blucka

we have even less reason for chonny's inferno i dont think theres a single line thats plural but to me its the. its the plural self acceptance and finding community. "an awfully diverse cast of critters resides down here in hell" you get it.

also also the latest project is based on the Ship of Theseus, and hes making a bunch of variations of the same song and theres nothing particular plural about it yet beyond just. the concept of the Ship of Theseus haha.

ok i think thats it

insert image I Can (imagine anything) Make ANY Chonny Jash Song Plural

It's moments like these that I'm glad I accidentally spoke this blog into existence.

End the Dance: your future self was too late to stop you but god damn it she's still going to try. If there aren't already animatics to this song, you know what to do.

Devil's Tricks: welp, she tried, it didn't work. Honestly, this one hits a little too close to home. I'll have to check out the full album

Pit: Even just the fact this is off the same album as the last two is already promising - why is the youtube upload's description "please do not call headspace"

Jekyll/Hyde Jive: oh come on how can I not?

Laplace's Angel: I almost put the original on the playlist when I first made it, and now I'm annoyed I didn't. Let's redefine reality together

Not Perfect: A flawed whole made of flawed parts? A life that never quite feels like it's entirely yours or always worth doing? Yeah, I see it

Forest for the Trees: This is the girl who's inviting me to run away with her in Laplace's Angel, mental health problems and all. Can't really call it a plural song though

Tomcat Disposables: this song just doesn't sound right to me in a major key, but you're right

Push/Mayday: Don't Die Wondering.

The Moss: Look, there's stretch, and then there's "the concept of math is a CCCC Covered in Discontent reference"

Chonny's Inferno: I see it. Dear anon, I see it

Ship of Theseus: "I did say I was working on one song." Track six wasn't out when you sent this ask, but I'd say it has the right vibes

(Total additions: 4)

[synthshenanigans]

Chonny Jash Lyric Quiz List

Plutos and I have made a bunch of Sporcle quizzes that let you test how well you remember the lyrics to his songs. :}

All songs marked with an " * " are made by @plutos134340 !!

———

Chonny's Charming Chaos Compendium Vol. 1

Time Machine Reprise

Dream *

Mucka Blucka Part 1 *

Mucka Blucka Part 2 *

Never Meant to Know

Spring and a Storm

Night

Ruler of Everything

Good Day/Bad Day

Just Apathy

The Heart Acoustic

Be Born

Storm and a Spring

The Mind Electric

The Soul Eclectic

The Bidding

Light

We're Gonna Win

Two Wuv

Variations on a Cloud

The Whole World and You

Welcome to Tally Hall

Banana Man

Haiku

Hidden in the Sand

Greener

Special

Taken For a Ride

Covered in Discontent

The Moss

K.K Cruisin'

Hokum All Ye Faithful

Slutteral Gump

Man With The Skeleton Arms

Restless Heart

Pocket

Alone With My Thoughts

Scatman's World

She Only Loves Me When I'm There

Spooky, Scary Skeletons

Hallelujah

The Before

does it sound familiar? *

backlit by moonlight. *

end the dance. *

contempt. *

pit. *

every ounce of energy. *

three paces away. *

a devil's tricks. *

wings of wax. *

Gothic Whore/The Novel Lyric Hunt

The Ballad of Dr. Jekyll *

The Mr. Hyde Jive *

Wilhelmina Waltz *

A Styrian Rhapsody *

A Monster's Lament *

An Elegey For One Roderick Usher/The Haunted Palace *

Dead Man's Sea Shanty *

Ode of the Cog *

Monster Mash [Encore] *

BONUS: bargaining/compromise *

BONUS: Dear Machine, Hate the Cog *

The Tim Minchin Power Hour

Cage *

Art *

Nerd *

Grew on Me *

Not Perfect *

The That Handsome Devil Power Hour

Shutup You're Stupid

Evl Ppl

Savages

A Drink to Death

Chonny's Inferno

The Will Wood Power Hour

Laplace's Angel [Hurt People? Hurt People!] *

Tomcat Disposables *

Thermodynamic Lawyer Esq, G.F.D. *

...And If I Did, You Deserved It. *

Memento Mori: the most important thing in the world *

The Chonny Jash Power Hour

Mayday *

Don't Take it Personally

Push *

Compelled by Hindsight *

The Lie of Black and White

Don't Take it Personally 2020 Demo

Push 2020 Demo

Compelled by Hindsight 2020 Demo *

The Ship of Theseus

The Ship of Theseus: Tracks 1, 2 & 3

The Ship of Theseus: Track 4, 5 & 6

Singles

Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

Charlotte

Fine, I'm Fine

20XX *

Heal

Heal Demo*

K.K Crushin'*

K.K. Cruisin' (Unplugged)

You Sound Like Louis Burdett

Count Eleven

To Toe Dead Lines*

The Forest for the Trees*

———

She also has a bunch of other quizzes you should check out too!!!

[houseofhyde]

ii. another man's comfort. ( teaser )

pairing. aemond targaryen x fem!reader

synopsis. a wedding calls you north, your duty calls you to your husband, your heart calls you to aemond.

warnings. stark!reader, infidelity, purity culture, canon misogyny, deviations from canon (set in 132 ac, the greens win the war), smut (nipple play, dirty talk, dry humping… it’s more exciting than it sounds, i swear). just so we’re clear, this is set a few years after part one !!

hyde's input. sorry part two is taking so long to post, i'm currently on holiday and haven't been able to find the time to finish off the fic. there's only two more scenes i need to write, so should be out by tomorrow ! consider this me announcing that i'm making another man's feast into a series.

this fic has now been posted and can be found here!

a chair scrapes the ground.

loud, poignant, silencing. the one eyed prince stands tall, a foreboding figure who's still features only serve to rouse a sense of unease, like the calm before the most brutal of storms. aemond perches forward in a sluggish motion, like he's thriving off the anticipation every serving wench casts for his next act, hands splayed out on the table and gaze fixed on the king. the two stand at opposite heads of the table and, as is the norm in recent years, exchange few words.

"i'm retiring to my chambers."

you watch with baited breath as aemond's eyes meet your own and visibly soften, though only for a moment, like he's apologising for your husband's lack of tact when it comes to choosing which words to speak.

wishing to ask him to stay, you swallow down the plea with a sip of wine.

"you're dismissed." aegon grants him leave, knowing full well the prince was not asking for permission.

it's all been one big powerplay between these two targaryen men- the words they speak, the looks they share, the decisions they make- since they defeated their enemies and lost the vehicle in which to deviate their inner-family conflicts.

"it's no bother, truly, lady alicent." finding the nerve to speak had seemed impossible mer moments ago, yet the voice within your own head tells you it'll garner the attention of a certain prince. the voice is correct. "his grace is true in his words, there's no reason he should accompany me on ship. the journey is that of sixteen sleeps, and that is only if the seas treat us kindly. the ruler of the seven kingdoms should not waste his time with such a silly thing when he has a dragon at his disposal. and, though i don't agree with his choice of words to describe the people of my ancestors' lands, the northern folk would do good to see their king on dragon's back, if only to remind them all of his great power and the protection it brings them."

from the corner of your eye, though you give your best effort to not cast your gaze in his direction, you witness a look of disagreement bleed onto aemond's face, as though the words of flattery you speak in honour of your husband serve as daggers piercing his flesh and bone.

helaena speaks up before the one-eyed prince can.

"are you sure, sister?" your heart melts under the warmth in which the princess addresses you, smile upon her face and care within her voice. growing up with only brothers, you'd never known the true joy of having a sister, till the day you married into the tortured targaryen household and the sweet girl who made friends with slugs approached you with the proposition of tea in her chambers. "mother only thought it best aegon accompany you to help you feel at home on the ship, as my own lord husband shall do for me."

"i thought it best, my good-daughter, after helaena told me of your own discomfort on ships." alicent smiles meekly and, in your defence, you do your very best to meet her halfway but you're certain your face is more wrinkled in displeasure than intended.

you do not enjoy the way everyone's eyes are so focused on you, especially when aegon looks at you with a challenge, daring you to say something to land him on a ship rather than his fearsome mount, and when aemond casts his undivided attention onto you, no emotion in his eye yet the faintest clench of his jaw tells you he cares about what you say next.

for better or for worse, he cares and it's enough to tear you apart.

"ah, i see there's been some misunderstanding." anyone smart enough notices the waver in your voice, no matter how quick you are to mask it beneath an empty chuckle and a dishonest smile. "what helaena said is true, yes, i was once afraid of ships. but this was many years back, when i was a child. i'm far better now. so, truly, i insist the king should travel on dragonsback. perhaps we could even send for daeron to attend, it would be an excellent first sighting of the three targaryen men and their mounts since the end of the war."

"what an excellent idea, your grace." otto hightower bestows a kindhearted smile your way, giving two quick claps of his hand before requesting a serving wench to refill his cup. "your wife truly is a gem to this family, aegon. you have no idea how fortunate you are to stand with such a woman by your side."

you smile gratefully, aegon laughs dishonestly, aemond tenses visibly.

"no, he does not." and, with that, the one-eyed prince retreats to his chambers, paying no mind to the continued festivities of his family nor the way your eyes follow him out of the room.

[peachykoii]

I’ve got to ask…

What do y’all think Jiang Man would really do if she found out that Embla killed Fan Liang, Hyde and Fu Shi have been purposely withholding this information from everybody, and also the Shadow Decree Council has been using the fact that she has amnesia and her unbreakable but “misplaced” vendetta against the Esper Union to their advantage? I mean, genuinely, I’m so curious about what she’d do. She’s driven by emotions that she doesn’t even understand completely. Would being given the proof and reason change anything?

The fact that Embla is right there and they go have their memory checked all the time together and the 3 are becoming decently friendly together. Meanwhile, Fu Shi manipulating Jiang Man into thinking they’re all strangers.

Even worse!!!

Do you think, based on Embla’s bounties, that she ever has movie dreams of the aftermath of the failed Artificial Esper Project? Relearning bits and pieces of the immediate days afterwards and the chasm it made in the Union. How utterly devoted, obsessed, and resilient Fu Shi was to finding a way to bring her back. Seeing him fretting over the sudden disappearance of Fan Liang’s gf when everyone is trying to cover up the project. Eaten by the guilt of the fact that only they knew what happened to Fan Liang. I KNOW Embla had to have seen and/or known in some capacity who Jiang Man was and who Fan Liang was; she was one of the head researchers of the project. There’s no way she wouldn’t want to be a part of the initial trials in all aspects (with respect to the fact that she was losing her grip on reality). But this is all and only for her to wake up each night having forgotten everything once again.

DO YOU THINK THAT THEY EVER HAD THE CHANCE TO GAVE THE RING TO JIANG MAN??? Since they had to study, preserve, or dispose of the bodies in some capacity (edited) and since Fu Shi stabilized and fully transformed, his dead body was still there when it was all said and done. DO YOU THINK THEY COULD’VE GIVEN IT TO FU SHI SINCE HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO GENERALLY WAS ACQUAINTANCES WITH FAN LIANG + (only on Fu Shi’s end) AND KNEW HE MEANT TO PROPOSE???

I’m going insane thinking about this, y’all. 😭😭

Even more worse, do you think Fu Shi is down bad enough and too far gone enough that if he did get the ring, he’s keeping it to himself with hopes to marry Embla someday because it represents how far he’s willing to go, do, and be to be with her???

[danieyells]

The likelihood that Ritsu overlooked them feels slim so. . .I wonder who had the disciplinary action documents checked out before? I feel like this is going to come up eventually. Again, it could be a Hyde thing, disposing of anything for Romeo but. . .it also contains Clash information, so it could be anyone really. Hell they could've been adding to it and that's why it was missing lol.